"Illeandir! Wake! We are hunted!" Ithilwen shouted bursting into his room. Illeandir dropped his book and sprang to his feet. It was just hours after dark, a small candle lit the corner of the room with a low chair he had been reclining in mulling over his conversation with Nara earlier that day. Ithilwen hurried over clutching a sack in her small her small hands and blew out the candle.

"Who hunts us?" Illeandir asked throwing his cloak over his shoulders. Ithilwen stuffed his spare clothes in the sack as he strapped his weapons to his body within easy reach.

"The council has sent guards after to you to bring you before the court on charge of murder. They mean to convict you. You will not escape unless we leave now. Mounts wait on the lowest level. Should we become separated ride hard and fast to Osgiliath. Do not wait for me. Fresh mounts will be there for us. Take one and ride to Ithilien. Stay on the west side of the Anduin. Hide there and show yourself to no one. I will find you."

Their eyes met and Ithilwen smiled bravely but her lower lip quivered slightly.

"So begins the final journey." She reached up and kissed Illeandir's cheek, she could reach no higher. She took his hand in hers. "Let us flee like spirits in the night."

"Spirits have no place among the living," was all Illeandir said before he allowed her to lead him by the hand through the Houses of Healing and into the moonlit streets of Minas Tirith. Their sensitive ears picked up shouting coming from before them and they dove into a dark alley as dozens of soldiers ran by toward the Healing Houses. Illeandir let out a slow sigh. Their chances of escaping were becoming slimmer by the minute.

Ithilwen took his hand again and they took to the shadows, careful not to step into the light or make any noise that would alert their pursuers to their location. An inn, noisy with activity, sheltered them while a patrol passed by. Just as they stepped out onto the street again the door opened. Warm yellow light spilled onto the cobblestone streets. A short squat figure was tossed out and the door slammed shut.

Illeandir grunted as the figure, reeling with drunkenness, headbutted him in the leg. They staggered back shaking a callused fist in rage.

"Oi! I'll teach ya to toss a dwarf! Nobody tosses a dwarf!" the dwarf shouted and staggered forward a step before falling over. He looked up and noticed the elves. "Well, shave my beard! Elves!"

"Shh!" Ithilwen exclaimed. The dwarf ignored her.

"I ain't seen one since I was a wee 'lil lady," he said.

"Illeandir, we must go," Ithilwen said tugging on his arm.

"We can't leave him here," Illeandir said. Ithilwen huffed.

"Of course we can! He's a dwarf!"

"I'm not leaving him here. He'll give us away if they find him," Illeandir said pointing to the dwarf who was singing happily with his legs crossed.

"Very well," Ithilwen sighed. "But we leave him as soon as possible."

"Agreed," Illeandir said. He did not entirely agree with Ithilwen. A little less than a century ago he had spent fifteen years living with dwarves in the Iron Hills and had grown fond of the hairy, brusque mannered, short folk. The only thing he did not particularly like about them was their fondness for drink as this one before him proved.

"Come, Master Dwarf," Illeandir said, heaving the dwarf to his feet.

"Aye, some respect at last. Filthy humans don't know a respectable dwarf when they see one!" He thumped his chest with a fist and promptly fell over. Illeandir heard Ithilwen strangle a groan and he threw the dwarf bodily over his shoulder and began walking.

"Oi! Put me down, ya maggoty elf! Lemme go!" Illeandir clamped a strong hand over the dwarf's mouth.

"If you don't shut up I'll leave you for the guards to pick up."

"Them pansies couldna have got me if they was a hundred foot tall!" the dwarf said, his voice muffled.

"They'll throw you in a cell with no drink," Illeandir said. The dwarf stilled as his drink sodden mind sluggishly processed what Illeandir had said. He nodded.

"I'll be quiet," he whispered loudly in Illeandir's ear. "Name's Thrilo."

"Elstan," Illeandir said. The dwarf stiffened.

"Where'd ya ge' a name like that?"

"A long time ago and a tale for another time." Illeandir shifted the heavy dwarf on his shoulders.

"All right, but I be wantin' ta hear it."

"And you shall. As soon as we get away," Illeandir said. He had gone not five more paces when bells began clanging throughout the citadel.

"Illeandir!" Ithilwen shouted abandoning all secrecy and silence.

"I hear them!" Illeandir shouted back. They ran down the street, feet slapping the cobblestone as they raced against time to escape. Sleepy residents poked their heads out their doors as the bells woke them only to shut them as shadowy spirits fled by. They descended into the lowest tier where two light colored horses stood tossing their heads. Thrilo took one look at them and immediately tried to get away.

"Nuh uh! I ain't getting on them creatures!" he exclaimed. Illeandir tossed him up anyway, the dwarf groaned as he was jostled unnecessarily. "Gently! I be hurtin'!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't have drunk so much!" Illeandir hissed as he mounted his horse. Ithilwen leaped lightly up on hers and was just beginning to push forward when someone ran to her side.

"Nara!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"You didn't think you could leave without saying goodbye, did you?" Nara accused. Illeandir suddenly found something interesting in his horse's mane.

"They are after us. We can not stay."

"I know. Be careful out there and come back to me." There was no mistaking the pleading in Nara's voice. Ithilwen bent down and kissed her forehead.

"Always," she whispered. Illeandir's horse danced underneath him, sensing his anxiety. Thrilo grumbled under his breath in dwarvish,

"Aye," Illeandir said in response. "Nor are elves accustomed to the holes you call a mighty fortress."

Thrilo spluttered an oath. "By Durin's Beard! How do you know the tongue of the dwarves?"

"Another time, Master Dwarf."

"You have many questions to answer, Master Elf," Thrilo said.

"Illeandir, I bid you farewell," Nara said.

"There are no goodbyes, Nara, merely a span of time deprived of each other's company. I will see you again," Illeandir said.

"Then I shall await your arrival again." There was a note of frustration in her voice. Ignoring it, Illeandir crossed his arm over his chest and bowed.

"Tenna' ento lye omenta," Illeandir said and urged his horse into a gallop. Nara fled the scene not a moment too soon for the moment they had fled through the gates, opened by a trusted soldier, dozens of soldiers raced after them.

Illeandir and Ithilwen rode side by side, hair streaming behind them like curtains. Illeandir's cloak flapped and snapped behind him. He felt arrows whiz overhead more than heard them. They urged their horses faster and faster across the plain toward Osgiliath. An arrow streaked past Illeandir's face, tearing a deep cut from his ear to his cheekbone. He ducked down and his horse shied to the right and began to veer away.

Using its silvery mane, Illeandir yanked the horse back. His horse faltered a step and Illeandir's stomach twisted. He looked up and saw that Ithilwen had pulled ahead, looking back he could see the Gondorian soldiers gaining ground over him. The steed had slowed considerably and limped slightly. It was then that Illeandir noticed how hold the horse was. He could feel it in the way it's bones grated against each other. He could see it in the loose lower lip that flapped with every hoof-beat.

Ithilwen had pulled further away and now looked back at Illeandir and Thrilo with worry in her eyes. The soldiers, seeing his decreased speed, pushed their mounts even harder to close the gap. Illeandir could push the grey horse no faster with the combined weight of him and Thrilo, neither of which was lightweight. He could feel the horse's breath rattling in its lungs as much as he heard it.

He sensed movement to his right and glanced over. A soldier had pulled close to him until they rode side by side. Another pressed in to his left. He was trapped with no escape, they would have him in seconds. A hand grabbed onto his hair and he retaliated by backhanding the man across the face. The man spat blood and cursed loudly but did not falter. Holding on with both hands Illeandir brought his leg up and kicked him off his horse. Screaming, both man and horse fell. Illeandir shook his head viciously as his hair was freed.

Thrilo moaned and vomited over the side of the horse and began slipping to the right. Illeandir grabbed his shoulder to hold him upright. Another soldier took the place of the first, this time crushing Illeandir's leg between his metal plated one and the horse. Sharp edges dug into Illeandir's drawing blood. The soldier to his right did the same. Illeandir couldn't fight them off for fear of loosing the now unconscious Thrilo.

The moon rose from behind the clouds to light the land before them. It was too late. They had veered off the road and into the field still striped with deep trenches dug by the forces of Sauron hundreds of years ago. To late they saw one open up before them and plunged into it.

*****************************

I think this is a good place to leave off.

Not sure where the dwarf came from... I had planned on adding him later but he was like "Nah! Imma come in now."

Threw grammar out the window writing him too.