She rode hard through the darkness and the light, not caring when it was or how long it took. Only the destination mattered. She stopped to rest only when her horse could take no more, but even as her mount slept off his weariness, she found that rest did not come so easily. The thoughts crept in unbidden at all times, never giving her a moment of peace.
Why did you leave us, mommy? she heard the sweet voice of her young daughter, her little freckled face appearing in her minds eye, her bright blue eyes wide with sadness and glistening with tears.
We miss you, mommy, her son joined in with an expression to match that of his sister perfectly.
You always said you left to save us, the apparition of Flowlen chimed in, his imagined voice accusing. You failed.
It did not matter how far or how long she ran, how exhausted she was or how she tried to push them away. The voices and visions were always with her, driving her ever onwards.
We miss you, mommy.
You failed us, Blaecwyn.
Come home, mommy.
Yes, mommy, come home to us.
Make this right, Blaecwyn. You know what you have to do.
She knew. Oh, she knew exactly what she had to do, but it had to be done the right way. She could not just lie down as an elf did, nor throw herself from a height as others had. That wasn't in her. She would die the way she had lived: fighting with everything she had.
It was as she was tearing through the countryside, coming up on Ram Duath, that she heard the shouting behind her.
"Blaecwyn!"
She ignored it.
"Blaecwyn, stop!"
Blaecwyn shook her head and nudged her horse to go faster. She knew who followed, she knew why he had come, but no-one, not even he, was going to stop her.
The shouting continued, mixing in with the imagined voices of her dead family, swirling around and rebounding off the inside of her skull with all the force of her steeds beating hooves. Onwards, onwards they drove her, between the canyon walls, thuds turning to hard clatters on the stony floor. The Rauta Lehma watched her speed by, but she paid no mind to them as she tore through their camp.
Nearly there. Nearly there. She spared a single look to the skies above. The pleasant deep blues of late afternoon changed swiftly to the swirling blood red that told her she was appraoching Angmar. It spurred her on to even greater heights, but her horse did not agree. Beneath her, he faltered and slowed his pace, exhaustion creeping up on him once more, but still he charged onwards for the sake of his rider.
Her pursuer, however, was quickly gaining ground. His steed, it seemed, was far more fresh then hers. She thought she was still far enough ahead to get away. He couldn't stop her. She wouldn't let him.
"Blaecwyn!" she heard him shout and twisted in her saddle just in time to see him rise to stand atop his mounts back. His long, strong legs propelled him across the small distance with ease and suddenly she was flying through the air with his arms wrapped around her waist.
They crashed to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs and rolled to the side. Winded though she was, she nevertheless drew back her arm and aimed a punch for his jaw. Having expected it, he rolled his head to the side to avoid being caught by the full force of her somewhat weakened blow and only tightened his grip about her armoured body.
"You can't do this, Blaecwyn!" he shouted at her. "I won't let you!"
"You can't stop me," she growled back, pummeling her fists against his head and shoulders in an effort to make him break his grip.
He rolled her onto her back, catching her wrists in a vice-like grip. Against her struggles, he pinned her down, his deep blonde hair seeming to float about his head in the wind to lend him a wild look as his icy blue eyes locked onto her single orb.
"You've never given up," he told her forcefuly through teeth gritted with the strain of holding this brute of a woman in place. "You never do, but that's what this is. If you do this, you'll have given up!"
Blaecwyn braced her feet against the stone floor and viciously bucked her hips. Unbalanced already from her struggles, he flew over her head and let go his grip on her wrists. Without word, she scrambled to her feet and ran for her horse. Behind her, he rose also and tore after her. A flying tackle brought her to the floor again, this time with his arms wrapped tightly about her legs.
"You don't run away," he growled as she struggled to free herself. "Never give up, never back down. Isn't that what you always say? Stop running away, Blaecwyn!"
"I'm not running away," she growled nastily as she managed to free one leg and draw it up. "I'm running to join them!" As the last word was uttered she kicked out with force, catching him directly on the temple. He fell limp, unconscious and she pulled her trapped leg out from under him.
Pausing just long enough to stare down at the prone form of her most beloved friend, she felt a slight tinge of regret that she had hurt him so and that she had to leave him. He would understand. One day, he would understand. Eovad always understood.
The need to go came upon her again, washing away her concern, her regret. With no further delay, she took back to her saddle and left Eovad behind.
***
The days passed, blurring once more. Several times she had been forced to stop to rest her horse or fight off the wargs, hillmen or orcs that infested the area like maggots on rotten meat and always, always, the will to join her family spurred her on.
At last, though, she had reached her destination and now, here on the ridges of Nan Gurth, she saw what she needed. Three Gorothryg stood around a campfire below, their bellows and grunts echoing across the barren landscape.
She grinned grimly and tightened the straps holding her shield to her arm. Surely they would be enough. Surely three at once could best her, but she would not go down without a fight.
Certain that she was ready, Blaecwyn took a tight grip of her spear, whispered to her family that she would be with them soon, and leapt down into what would soon become a fray.
