She gave chase, following him across the mountains, always a step behind his dark machinations but never so far as to lose sight. Days afoot became weeks; weeks became months, until the very end of the world across seemed nigh. Through county and bog and beneath the earth did they quarrel, her ardor finally coming to blows with his malice at the edge of the Mirkwood. His sights lay upon the plains and people of Rohan as a prize to be taken before his descent upon Gondor, but he was weary and wounded from battle, and he sought to rid himself of her assault.
He chose the wooded staging ground for a final confrontation between Old Foes, for this was where he tasted her blade long ago, and he knew what love she bore for the Rohirrim and that she would not flee here, leaving the Eorlingas of the Riddermark to sate his hunger.
"Foolish, she-elf," he growled, his teeth shining. "You have followed me only to your doom, and after I have devoured your flesh, I will return to my Masters who yet remain in Mordor." His bestial voice cracked with an insidious laughter.
Her response was the whistling of a silver-tipped arrow which pierced his eye, but it did not abate his anger. Like the bellows of a great forge, the howling of his agony enflamed his rage and into the night they fought, amidst the gnarled boughs of the fearful forest.
After a time, he relented. Bleeding and half blind, the great warg melted into the shadowy places of the forest and he called upon what evil things he could to hide him away. Unawares of his intent, Annuviel continued her pursuit of him through the darkness. Only after she realized that he had led her to the height of a cliff did her mistake weigh true. There was little time to react when she finally glimpsed the crimson of his eyes bearing down upon her and in his most desperate attempt, he leapt, and both she and her quarry tumbled into the black river below.
