Explanations/Author’s Note: My version of life after Sauron’s downfall. You may want to read this before starting. I am not fortunate to have an intelligent enough librarian in my school/public library to buy many books by Tolkien, so I have not yet even finished The Silmarillion, therefore, my story may not fit with Tolkien’s works perfectly.

I believe that Aragorn had a few unnamed daughters, right? Anyway, Baniel is his daughter, and a werewolf. In The Silmarillion, Sauron had werewolves, and was the master of the greatest one, correct? Well, in this story, some of them left the service of Morgoth, and spread their curse to a few unlucky humans and Elves. Now, also, in my story, Sauron had an apprentice, and trained her secretly. No one knew of this, not even the Witch King. Well, now, about 25 years after Sauron’s downfall, the apprentice is beginning to make her subtle moves towards the total destruction of the World of Men.

Okay, and just a disclaimer thing, I do not own anything in this fanfiction. I am not trying to gain anything, except the experience of posting a story, and getting real people to review it. Please be kind, as it is my first story ever. And if I get any names, dates, or places wrong, or even events/ideas, please forgive me. Thank you, and I love everyone!! -Naera

Baniel, princess of Gondor gazed out her window, looking intently at her brother, Eldarion, practicing swordplay with her father, Estel. She sighed. Something wasn’t right. She couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but she could feel it. Sharp, quick footsteps echoed down the corridor outside her room. Her sharper-than-normal hearing picked out her uncle, Elrohir, as the source of the noise. Baniel smiled. Whenever Uncle was near, she always had fun. Except for the full moons. With that thought, she finally remembered what was wrong. The moon was full tonight! And it was rising over Minas Tirith!

Elrohir burst into the room, all normal cheerfulness was gone from his face. Instead, it was lined with pain. His pupils were huge. It was obvious that he had been walking through moonlight, jumpstarting the change. Baniel felt her chest tighten, as panic filled her. Elrohir groaned, and grabbed his head. “Run! We have to get out of the city!” he growled. Baniel took his hand, and the dashed to the gate of the city, just barely making it outside the city before the transformation hit her full force.

Elrohir gave a sharp cry of pain, and fell to his knees, screaming. He writhed in agony as his bones popped, changing to fit his new form, a wolf. An awful tearing sound filled the air as thick gray fur sprouted, spreading along his body. Baniel screamed, as her change began as well. Her screams of pain joined her uncle’s as she fell to the ground, and felt her bones beginning to change. She prayed to the Valar for mercy, that unconciousness would come swiftly, and that prayer was denied. Her veins filled with fire, driving all thought from her mind, leaving only a bloody hatred boiling in her thoughts. Eventually, she left her body, her mind slipping into blessed relief, into darkness.

Every now and then, a new, bloody image flashed in her vision. She soon forgot most instantly, like strange dreams in a fever, but one image haunted her throughout her night-hunt. A boy, halfway through his change, eyes glaring, in pain, screaming. She wondered vaguely if she had killed him. But this thought slipped away, fleeting as the dreams, as her mind slipped into a dark, frightening coma.

Tirnion winced. He felt the change coming quickly. He stepped into the moonlight, making it quick, and less painful. He gave a soft cry of pain as his bones began to change, and then clenched his fists, fighting the pain. He gasped, as two huge wolves ran past him. One was white. A female. His mistress said something about a white girl werewolf. The female stopped, looking at him, strangely green eyes curious, not viscious, like the other wolf. He glared. She must be the source of his pain! He had only been made a werewolf to hunt this creature. But now, he was still in his Elf-form. He would not stand a chance if it came to a fight. He screamed, as his unfocused thoughts allowed the change to rip through him mercilessly. He held his breath, waiting to slip into the merciful blackness of sleep. The young Half-Elf slipped easily into the coma that held all the wolves, until morning light released him.