Chapter 2

I came out of the darkness in my mind, elated to find I could feel my body somewhat, though the pain was overwhelming, which was a relief in itself! My head throbbed, my chest and ribs felt like they were on fire, and one of my legs felt like it had been through the end of the world.

I tried to open my eyes, only succeeding a crack, enough to take in my surroundings.

To my surprise, I was in a lush, green forest, full of life. Birds chirping, water bubbling, bushes rustling…
Bushes rustling?

I snapped to reality. A black-robed figure with an odd mask and a longsword stepped out of the shadows, raising the sword to my neck.

“Who are you?” he asked in a deep, gravelly voice.
I struggled to swallow, the cold edge of the blade pricking my throat.

“My name is S-Syndra,” I murmured, my pain the least of my troubles now.

“Where are you from?” he questioned, the edge pressing deeper and drawing beads of red.

“I-I’m not from here-” I was cut off as the man kneeled, taking my chin in his hands.

“Saruman knew you would be here. He wants to see you,” he growled somewhat threateningly.

Grabbing my hand, he tried to yank me to my feet. In response, I shrieked; the kind that would give a person goosebumps. I was not only calling for help, but my injured leg was killing me!

“So, you won’t move?” he hissed, putting away his sword and replacing it with rope. “Then I will bind you.”

The figure then proceeded to tie my hands and feet and had just pulled a cloth over my mouth when a voice spoke out from beyond my eyesight.

“Let her go.”

A man stepped into view, wielding a sword. He had brown hair and eyes, and a short, clean-shaven beard to match.

The figure binding me drew his longsword along with a dagger from his belt.

“Come closer, I dare you! You will not have been my first victim,” it said, pointing the dagger at the man and keeping the sword by me for good measure.

Not realizing I was conscious, let alone awake, my rescuer’s gaze flickered to me before saying “What business does Sauron have with a girl such as this? He does not hope she has the Ring, does he? Or does he feel he needs a woman to hide behind, to send out to deal with his problems for him?” he taunted, all the while shuffling forward, sword at the ready.

Finally, he threw the sword into the masked man’s hood and watched his body fold in on itself until there was nothing left but the black cloak.

Walking over, he kneeled, brushing a wisp of hair out of my squinting eyes before sliding his hands under me in an attempt to pick me up.

I let out an anguished moan, my pain worse than before. The man gasped, seeing the wounds I could not see.

“Sam! Sam, come here!” he yelled urgently, looking around the thicket wildly for whom he had called.

“Yes? Wha-!”

A small boy walked over to us from a patch of trampled bushes. He had reddish, curly hair and kind looking eyes. Seeing my form, he glanced uneasily at the sword hilt and longsword.

“Did…did you do this?” he asked softly.

The man shook his head soberly.

“No,” he responded, beginning to cut away the gag on my mouth. “It was a Ringwraith.”

“But what would they want with her?” Sam questioned incredulously.

“It appears they thought she had the Ring. Would you please fetch everyone else?” the man asked, resulting in a quick nod from Sam before he ran off, back the way he came.

The man stood up, seemingly angry while he waited for Sam to bring ‘the others.’

Closing my eyes completely, I tried desperately not to slip back into the darkness that tempted me so, with its calming escape from the pain of my inflictions.

I coughed, realizing my throat was hot, dry, and raspy. Whimpering, I shook as my leg sent another wracking pain up my body.

I heard more voices coming from my right, but I struggled to breathe without pain, let alone open my eyes. I lay there in the darkness, listening to the sounds of other people filing quietly into the clearing.

“What’s this lass doing here? What happened, Strider?” a deep but gentle voice asked.

“A long story for other times, friend,” the man responded.

A fairer, quieter voice spoke up.

“Who is she? Why have you not done anything to help her? If those Morgul-wounds were indeed given by a Wraith, she may not live much longer.”

“I could not move her for fear of her being hurt more, but we must take her back.”

Back? Back where? I thought, as strong arms lifted me gently. I flinched but gradually became comfortable enough to drift into a dreamless sleep.