My body moves at the light pace of a hunter's tread, taking its time in the light of the waning moon. Every single step I take forward I fight against, resisting the overwhelming urge to just give up.

A voice in my head whispers softly, coaxing me to give in, to stop fighting. It would be so much easier, so much more comfortable...

I acknowledge that it is the Witch King's voice, and concentrate my thoughts on this simple idea: this is not me and none of these ideas are mine. I mustn't listen to them.

"You will not win. You will not win." I begin to chant, coaching myself to think so.

My own voice replies from my mouth, sounding oddly devoid of normal emotion. "You will not: how can you? I am you, and you are me. We are now the same person. You can't win."

I just continue to chant to myself. "You will not win. You will not win."

The Witch King laughs darkly. "No. No you shan't. I will kill everyone that you love, and you will be powerless to stop it."

The idea immediately brings Legolas to mind, making me fight for control anew. I manage to cause my body to stumble before losing control once again.

Swearing colorfully, I mope in the back of my mind. How in the world am I going to get out of this? There's no one to help me but myself.

So we continue on our long journey to Mirkwood through the thick woods, never stopping for rest. Although I am not in control of myself, I am still able to feel the weariness of my body from moving for more than a week on end without rest. My heart beats erratically, and my breath comes in irregular, quick gasps. Past the point of pain, my feet feel completely numb to me, and the rest of both my legs are little different.


It is with great relief as well as in trepidation that I realize we have finally arrived at the border of Mirkwood. I still hold to the slim hope the Witch King will not be able to control me once I step inside its borders. That hope quickly vanishes when my body crosses the line with ease, not even stopping for a pause.

My face twitches up into a smirk from the Witch King. "See?" he whispers through my lips.

I soon sense that there are guards approaching our location, and take note that the Witch King notices too.

"Let the show begin, Spirit Healer." the Witch King whispers to me, seemingly talking to no one.

The first of the guards appear through the woods, bows notched with arrows aiming directly at my heart and throat.

"Who are you?" one of them demands, stepping out slightly from the shadow of the trees.

I start screaming, even though I realize it will do me no good. None of the noise makes it out anyways.

"I am Arra," the Witch King says, imitating the soft lilt of my voice. "I am the Princess and Spirit Healer of the North. I healed your King, Thranduil, and was captured by the deceptive Witch King. I managed to escape, and now I ask for refuge from danger while I recover from my injuries." my voice says calmly.

"What injuries?" I wonder. I mentally check myself over, realizing from walking so far my feet have begun to bleed, and I must have cut my side on something, because a thin stream of blood runs from it, staining my top with red. I must not have noticed it with the numbness of everything else.

The elf guard repeats my own question to myself. "What injuries?"

The Witch King speaks again. "I am barely able to walk, and my side will not cease its bleeding." he inflects pain into his tone.

"Very well. We shall take you to the King to see if you are truthful. Then we shall tend to your wounds." The guard proclaims, and leads us onward.

"No! Just kill me! Please! I'm a danger to you all, just kill me!" I scream, shoving at the Witch Kings presence in my mind.

My body stops moving, the Witch King using all his energy to shove my back to the recesses of my mind once again.

"Stop!" the Witch King shouts at me, forgetting that it would travel through my lips.

"Is something wrong?" one of the guard asks.

"No. I just need a rest is all. I can't feel my feet." he covers weakly, making my voice weak and tired-sounding.


By the time we arrive in the heart of Mirkwood, I have all but exhausted my efforts at removing the Witch King from my body. They took me to a room in the palace, and my sensitive ears pick up the sound of two guards standing outside my door.

"You see my dear, you will not win." the Witch King whispers in my mind.

I feel so tired from fighting against him, I can barely remember why I'm doing this in the first place. I have pushed myself past the point of exhaustion, and sleep threatens to claim me.

Eventually I let the darkness take me, giving in to the exhaustion. And then all there is, is the dark.

The next chapter is going to be tense, can you feel the pressure building up?

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