[Taralphiel]

The troop marched through day and night. Indeed night and day seemed to meld the closer they got to Dol Goldur, and the more persistent nightmares of the living dead Queen became.

The last time she had slept, the woman was reaching out to her, calling her to come to her and help her, but she always fled, unsure if they were illusions of her own mind probing to find her. She would wake in a cold sweat, trying to stop the shaking of her thin limbs.

Eventually the break between legs of the journey would get smaler, and Taralphiel had gotten used to the steady pace. Striding along to the wolf pup, she was slowly getting used to conversing with him in the mind. Just as she was about to attempt again, he stiffened. She looked about, and a heavy, probing, and cold malice filled her. She glanced at her party who were allready heading for the trees, and she scrambled to cover, waiting to face what would come...