It was déjà vu, the journey there. Over and over again I saw the night approach from over the blackened mountains still peaked with snow. Over and over again I asked Bern, sometimes sleepily, sometimes nervously, "Do you see anything?" to which he would reply, "No, my lady. I will keep an eye out."

I knew that somewhere, somehow, in the miles past with trees, rocks, and barren plains, there were scouts hidden, waiting for any conflict. Faewyn was one of them; Legolas as well. Somewhat selfishly, I wished they were worse at their job, so I might see a flash of their tunic or a flicker of their faces in the landscape, but it was to no avail.

I tried to just focus on Bren's voice from behind be as we rode slowly onwards; when I turned to look at him I was struck by how different he looked through his disguise, how tortured and hideous. The Remnants were so far beyond hope that they were controlled by the evil within them, not prey to the realization of their vanity like normal and noble men. Of course, Falcon was an exception. Interestingly, as I had learned when I was previously held captive there, he was not officially the leader of the Remnants; there was another, another he called "Master"-- and yet? He was a mastermind of his own reality, he controlled what he pleased.

The thought of him again was unnerving.

I looked over Eärlin's head and tried not to scratch the scab on my arm that had begun to heal over. The horse turned his head to look at me briefly and snorted, as if saying, Hold on, friend, this will be over soon.

I wasn't sure why I was so tired. At this point, I had gotten plenty of sleep, though we slept in the saddle for the most part, at least until Bern was too tired to continue. I leaned over and mumbled something, probably a variation on "I hate Falcon", which was consuming most of my thoughts lately.

I nodded off.

I thought I woke up right after, as if jolted awake, but I sensed that this was not the same reality--I vaguely came to realise I was surrounded by whitish mist again, although I felt grass underneath my bare feet. Comforted, I simply stood still and waited for what I knew would come.

"Gianna, you are so close," came a soft female voice.

This was new; I had not ever encountered any presence similar to hers.

"Forgive me, my Lady, but close to what?" I couldn't help but ask.

"The last spark of true darkness put out by your hand." she replied, her voice echoing. I wasn't sure if she spoke in my mind or through the mist.

I recognized the presence of Lórien near me; I turned towards where I thought he was, though I could see nothing.

"Gianna, it is time for you to know that this will be much harder than you know," he said, a warning note in his voice. "You do not yet know how the fractured spirits flee."

"What do you mean, my Lord?" I asked, hesitantly.

"I know you witnessed how Falcon killed some of his men in an effort to gain more power. But he can do the same without being involved in their deaths. You will be attacked by the Remnants once Falcon discovers the ruse. As you try to reach him, you will slay some of his followers with the Sword of Light. This you cannot avoid, or you will be felled yourself. But remember this--" he paused, and I felt an eerie sense of foreboding when he continued. "--remember that each time one of his men falls who has ensconced inside him a fraction of the soul of the Sauron, the fragment will flee to the next available host. This darkness is ancient; it came from the depths of Morgoth himself. The final man you fell will relinquish his tainted soul to Falcon, if he is not already felled. In any foreseeable future, there will be one Remnant standing. By the end, he will be much stronger than he ever has been. Even now Falcon waits, relying on the hope that as his men die, he will rise victorious. You must fight this with all your skill and courage."

I shuffled my feet on the grass, anxious now. "How are you certain I will not fail?"

"We are more certain than ever before. Recall that it is we who summoned you here." Lórien continued gravely. "Do not forget that we watch over you."

"And still you have our blessing," the female voice reminded me. She spoke, and I felt relief wash through me, somehow.

It must have been Estë, the wife of Lórien, who stood by her husband to comfort me in my fear. I was thankful for that, at least. Feeling the tug of my consciousness anew, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, as if preparing to blow a dandelion-head away into thin air, scattering the seeds.

When I opened my eyes, I saw first the dark sands we were crossing. Eärlin plodded along impatiently; I knew he ached to run but could not in this sand, and not with so much weight.

It would still be significant time until we neared the black mountains, but with the knowledge I now carried I could wait all eternity to approach the shell of Mordor.

Eärlin reared up his head and almost knocked me out, his forehead nearly crashing into my skull. Jolted past any thoughts in my mind, I sharply drew back. "Eärlin, you almost broke my face."

He didn't seem to hear, instead twitching his ears nervously and stopping.

Bern tugged on the reins. "Onwards, gently now," he coaxed. Eärlin irritably flattened his ears but continued walking.

"Bern, were you instructed on the full plan?" I asked, after a long while.

"Yes, I was well informed. The hope is to be intercepted by one of their scouts or else come upon them directly to raise the least suspicion. They would have already gotten the letter intercepted, ideally."

"If they don't?"

"'Surprise!'" Bern laughed.

I smiled too, despite everything. "Eärlin, listen to me, mellon nin." The horse turned one of his pale ears backward. "Pay no heed if you are maltreated somewhat; the hope is that they will leave you there for dead and you can easily escape."

I couldn't fathom a horse being pleased with the situation, but he did not do anything to the contrary, so I hoped that he would at least be safe if we were approached.

A few more hours of walking and the landscape nearly bored me to tears. Seeing even the slightest clump of sedge cheered me, strangely.

Eärlin huffed irritably and laid his ears flat again, tossing his head nervously.

"Something--"

I started but did not finish.

From behind the midmorning sun came two riders, mounted on Wargs. They had swords drawn, they came with purpose, with no fear, no inhibition. This was the time I would not run from them.

I had expected it, but it still sent a surge of adrenaline rushing through me. "Bern--"

"I see them," he replied, his voice now hard and determined. "Recall you have been captured and beaten."

Without another word, I slumped forward in the saddle, my head hanging loosely forward. Bern rode towards the two riders assuredly.

I couldn't see what was happening in my current position, but I heard their voices from afar, talking and laughing gutturally.

We approached steadily. The talking ceased; they had seen us.

"I have the girl!" crowed Bern suddenly.

The two riders quickened their pace, I heard the tempo of the footfalls of their steeds increase.

"Manon, we thought you dead," snarled one of them.

"Not dead," grinned Bern, showing his falsely blackened teeth. "Caught her trying to escape on this blasted horse."

"Falcon will be pleased," commented the other. "She did not come willingly, certainly."

"After a while, she did," Bern laughed. He grabbed my arm and I weakly pretended to swat him away, but he pushed me from the saddle and I landed in a heap on the ground.

One of the riders dismounted and walked towards me. "Falcon said not to touch her," he spat. "Manon, you will be dead when Falcon sees this."

"She was difficult to subdue," Manon/Bern shrugged. "It is only a few cuts, nothing else."

"Hmph, well, the sooner we take her the better. Tie her on her pretty little horse and let us go."

"The horse won't last for long," Bern said, scornfully. "These fragile Elf horses never do. He's half dead already."

As Bern spoke, I could barely see Eärlin's legs from where I lay on the ground, and he snorted wearily and fell on his side, the ground shaking. Bern walked by the fallen horse and nudged him scornfully with his foot. Eärlin didn't even move; he instead let out a choked-sounding whine.

I almost had to suppress a laugh, which would have been bad. My horse obviously knew how to act.

"Leave him, then." one of them spat. "Get on with it. You get on with Reik and I'll take the girl."

One of the riders-- they must both be men, as they did not have the grimacing accent of the Orkish language-- roughly picked me up by an arm.

I protested, kicking out, but whimpered and did not continue to fight.

"That's right, Starmarked, stop fighting," he hissed, shaking me. I ignored him, bothered by the name they knew me by colloquially. "Get up!" he snarled, hoisting me up. I shook on my feet and did not look up until he slapped me, hard, across my face. Reeling from the impact, I fell to the ground again, my fall somewhat broken by the sand that was under me.

I was furious, and yearned to shove my fist at him, but apart from being extremely stupid, it would also be entirely futile. Instead, I put a hand to my cheek and felt the stinging red spot there.

"What happened to 'You'll be dead?'" asked the other man, Reik, from next to my abuser.

"I suppose Falcon just wants to save her for himself," the other replied. "She is insolent, spiteful-- and would be fun to subdue."

The two laughed, while Bern stood impatiently nearby. "Let us go," he insisted.

I knew they scowled, and the man picked me up again, and without any preamble, slung me on the top of his mount like one might place a sack of grain. The square saddle-horn hit me in the sternum; it was not an act to cry out in pain as the wind left my chest and the cut there throbbed uncomfortably.

The rider spurred on his mount and we galloped at full speed over the desolate outskirts of the Black Lands, every footfall bouncing me up and down on the hard, metal saddle-horn.

I couldn't see anything but a blurred version of the ground. My head throbbed from all the blood that had rushed into my face, and each time I landed, hard, on the metal knob, I wheezed and whimpered, seeing stars.

There was nothing I could do but wait.

At length, I began to slip out of my position on the saddle, so my rider crossly pulled me forward by pulling my arm backwards. This time, my ribs surrendered the assault to my abdomen, where the painful punches of the saddle-horn thrust into my stomach. I would have vomited had I eaten more, and in fact I felt nauseous after just a few seconds of riding.

We must have arrived at our destination after an hour or so because finally I felt our pace slow, and suddenly, I was unceremoniously tossed from the saddle again, where I lay on the sharp stones, dizzy and sick to my stomach, all while trying to remember:

The plan. Stick to the plan.

"What is this?" snarled a voice, a new voice.

"We have the girl," Bern said, stepping forward. "It is her, you can check if you would like."

The former grunted and kicked me over with a booted foot, whereupon I lifelessly exhaled shakily.

"It's her," he affirmed. "And you, Manon, how did you manage this? We took you for dead."

"It was simple, once the brat tried to escape the elf-hole; she ran straight into me. She was hard to subdue but you'll find she is now very submissive."

"That is not for me to verify," snapped the other man. "Bring her in, but tie her first. We do not need any reason to tell Falcon she escaped."

Quickly, I was bound in stiff leather straps, my hands behind my back, and my legs folded behind me. They took another rope and bound my legs and arms together, in such an uncomfortable position I cried out. Naturally, they ignored me.

When they were finished, one of them picked me up, like one might hoist a tote bag, and I was dragged to the next confrontation, the one I was least looking forward to.

I was so disoriented by the time they set me down that I had barely time to react until I heard the voice I most despised on any earth.

"Well," Falcon said silkily. His voice echoed around me in the room like that of a snake in a tunnel. "Caught at last?"

I groaned and tried to roll over, unsuccessfully.

"I caught her trying to escape from our small soirée in Lothlorien," Bern said confidently, stepping forward. "I hope I will be afforded the same--"

Falcon cut him off. "Yes, yes, now all four of you, get out. I have business to attend to."

I wished more than anything they would stay. I knew Bern would try to shield me from Falcon's abuses.

But I knew he couldn't. Now he had to leave as soon as possible, or risk being found out.

I heard the grating of metal as a sword was drawn, and with hardly a second thought, Falcon flicked the blade at the leather strap connecting my limbs and it fell free. Though bound still, I was at least able to crawl and I did, faster than I could breathe.
I slumped against the wall and felt, again, utter, total defeat. I breathed deeply and slowly, trying to calm my racing heart.

"You couldn't run forever; is that what you thought?" Falcon said, grinning widely. He roughly lifted my chin so I was forced to look him in the eye. "Look at me." He didn't seem concerned to see the injuries I had "sustained", and instead did not move his hand.

"Stop-- touching-- me," I said, with difficulty, turning away.

I have to stick to the plan, I silently repeated to myself.

The plan, the plan.

With dawning horror, I realised something I had neglected to account for.

Falcon can read my thoughts.

"Of course I can, Gianna, how do you think I ever get anything done?" he said, crossly. "Now, speaking of getting things done, what plan?"

I shuddered. Eru, no, this isn't happening.

"Well, it is," Falcon smugly said.

"The plan is secret, and you shan't ever know," I said stoically, thinking about dogs in an effort to clear my mind.

"I'm sure I will," he said. "There are a few things I just need to know."

He lazily sidled over to me and held me down, and I was too exhausted to move.

"Let's try to help you remember the plan, hmm?"