Whispers of the Dragon 
shirebound 
j.stein@elsevier.com 

G - Angst/Action/Adventure  

NOTE: This story is the sequel to "Unlikely Comfort" (Moria to Lórien) and 
"Leaving Lórien"; my slightly AU imagining of the Fellowship's journey down the 
Anduin. Chapters 1 and 2 set the stage......

Reviews (as always) eagerly pounced upon! Several reviews for "Unlikely Comfort" 
played a major role in shaping the story.

DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think 
about them day and night.
_________________________________

WHISPERS OF THE DRAGON


Chapter 1 --- Transition

"Sam, you're going to wear that cloak out before you've had it a day."

Sam sighed with pure wonder. "It's just the most amazing cloth, Mr. Frodo. I 
can't figure what they made it out of." He fingered an edge of the Elven cloak 
once again, then touched the green and silver leaf brooch lightly, reverently. 
"Me, Sam Gamgee, dressed in such a thing as this. And carrying a gift from the 
Lady herself. Who'd a thought it?" His eyes grew misty once again, gazing past 
Aragorn back up the river, back toward Lórien.

Frodo nodded, shifting his weight a bit as his back was beginning to pain him. 
He was sitting with Sam in the bow of the little boat, finding the wooden seats 
most uncomfortable. For most of the afternoon Aragorn had sat alone in the 
middle seat, paddling when there was need. The middle seat would not have 
allowed two Men to sit together, but one Man and a hobbit had room to sit side 
by side if they chose. Each boat contained the packs and traveling gear of the 
Company, coils of the soft Elven rope, boat covers, waterskins, and a supply of 
lembas and other foods packed by the Elves, some of it stowed under the small 
seat in the stern, some laying between the middle and rear seats. The Elves had 
outfitted each boat with two leaf-bladed paddles, one shortened for a hobbit's 
use. Or a dwarf's.

Legolas and Boromir kept their boats just behind Aragorn, the current carrying 
them all swiftly southwards.

Aragorn smiled when Sam let go of the cloak and reached his right hand out, once 
again, to grasp the side of the little craft. The Ranger had never seen anyone 
less at ease on the water, and the calm hours that had passed since leaving 
Lórien had done nothing to calm Sam's suspicions about this mode of travel. Sam 
and Gimli were the only members of the Company who could not swim at all, and 
neither planned to start anytime soon.

Frodo moved carefully to sit down next to Aragorn. Now that the sun was starting 
to set he felt he could look south once again, as he suspected it had been the 
sun sparkling all day on the water that had been making his head ache. He pulled 
his cloak tightly about him in the chill air and yawned.

"Frodo, did you get any sleep last night at all?"

"Very little," Frodo sighed. "We talked so long and so late, afterwards I just 
couldn't stop thinking about.........things." He pulled his legs up, trying to 
find a comfortable position.

"Tomorrow, pad a seat with one of the bedrolls until you get accustomed to it. 
Remember when we left Rivendell and hardly any of you could walk more than a few 
hours at a time up in those mountains?" Frodo nodded. "You'll get used to this, 
too." Aragorn looked up. "Even Sam may get used to it!"

"Strider, there's just nothing natural about boats and that's all there is to 
it," Sam said vehemently. "Even Elf boats."

Aragorn looked down as Frodo tried to stifle another yawn. He motioned behind 
them. "Lay down as best you can on the packs. Maybe you can fall asleep."

Frodo was about to protest when he realized he wasn't going to be able to keep 
his eyes open much longer. The sleepless night, the long hike that morning, and 
the quiet, motionless hours on the boat were lulling him to sleep against his 
will. Maybe a bit of sleep would ease his headache and clear away the odd 
disorientation he had been feeling for most of the afternoon. He climbed back to 
where the packs and gear were kept, burrowed between them, curled up with his 
cloak wrapped about him and was asleep in minutes.

After sunset Aragorn saw a good spot ahead on the western shore to camp, and he 
motioned to the other boats to follow him. They paddled hard and came to a 
level, gravelled beach surrounded by trees. Legolas and Boromir leaped out of 
their boats and pulled them up on shore. Gimli, Pippin, and Merry started 
unloading gear.

Frodo was only dimly aware that they had stopped, of someone lifting him, being 
carried. "Aragorn," he murmured, too groggy to fully awaken.

"You can sleep, Frodo, it's all right." Aragorn laid him gently down on the 
bedroll Sam had shaken out under a tree and covered him warmly. 
"Head....hurts...." Frodo whispered, before sinking back into the strangely deep 
sleep. The Ranger frowned and felt his forehead for fever, but found none. It 
seemed best to just let him sleep.

A short distance away, the Company sat in the growing darkness on some blankets 
and fallen logs, munching bread and the dried fruit and meats the Elves had 
packed for them. Aragorn joined them and decided the time was ripe to set a few 
rules for the journey, especially for the hobbits.

"We've done well today, but we have a long journey yet ahead. A fortnight, 
perhaps less." Aragorn unpinned the emerald and silver brooch from his tunic, 
looked at it for a moment, then pushed it into a pocket in his pack. "We must 
put away anything that might reflect the sun and attract attention." He nodded 
approvingly as, without a word, Merry and Pippin immediately took off the silver 
belts given to them by Galadriel and put them away. Boromir had removed his 
golden belt earlier in the day, not entirely at ease with wearing it. "Everyone 
must learn to use the paddles, to steer and turn at need. Anyone who doesn't 
know how should ask, and practice." Sam sighed, but nodded.

"Remember," Aragorn said, trying not to look at Pippin. "The lembas is a 
valuable gift, given to sustain those of us who accompany Frodo to Mount Doom. 
We must use it sparingly until then."

"We are no longer within protected borders. We must be vigilant, and not only at 
night. Sound carries far over the water. No singing, or shouting, and only quiet 
talking in the boats. We've tarried in Lórien longer than you may think, and the 
Enemy has not been idle. No fires at night unless there is great need. We must 
stay alert. Anyone in need of rest," and here he nodded toward Frodo's sleeping 
form, "Should say so. A tired sentry is a bad sentry." He looked around, 
gratified to see the hobbits gazing at him so seriously. They had come a long 
way.

Legolas and Gimli volunteered to take the first watch, and the rest rolled up in 
their cloaks and blankets, Sam and Merry on either side of Frodo, Pippin on the 
other side of Merry.

"Merry," Pippin whispered, "I'm cold."

"Come on then," Merry said, making room between him and Frodo. Pippin nestled 
between them and burrowed down into his blankets. Before falling asleep, Merry 
reached a hand across Pippin and let it rest lightly on Frodo's shoulder; he 
noticed that Sam had done the same. Neither had forgotten the encounter with 
Gollum outside Lórien. They were taking no chances.

 
 
 Chapter 2 --- The Dragon

Frodo awoke to a chill morning, roused by Sam gently calling his name. He was 
startled to learn that he had somehow slept through dinner and would likely have 
slept through breakfast as well. He rose, grateful that his head had stopped 
pounding. He ate ravenously of the bread, cheese, and dried fruits, and noticed 
that the strange feeling of disorientation from the day before had disappeared 
as well.

"How are you doing, Frodo?" asked Aragorn, coming to sit by him. He had been 
talking quietly with Legolas, who joined them as well.

"I feel fine. I felt so strange yesterday I thought I might be getting sick, but 
it seems to have passed."

"That's interesting," Legolas mused.

"What do you mean?"

The Elf looked thoughtful. "Aragorn and I were just talking about how you were 
feeling last night. There is a transition of sorts between Lothlórien and the 
rest of Middle-earth. Time flows a bit differently there than here. You seem to 
have been affected by it, although I would not have thought a mortal would sense 
such a subtle thing. Perhaps the presence of the Ring has given you a sharper 
perception of what is for the most part unseen and unfelt by others." He smiled 
at Frodo and rose to help Gimli pack the remainder of their gear.

The Ring. During their last days in Lórien Frodo had been able to all but forget 
that it hung about his neck, but as soon as they left the borders he had felt 
its presence strongly once again. He sighed, thinking about what Legolas had 
said. If the Ring was altering his perceptions, what else might it be doing to 
him?

**********************

Sam tried, he really did. After about half an hour, though, Aragorn gently 
uncurled Sam's rigid fingers from the paddle and conceded that maybe the hobbit 
could better serve as lookout than boatsman.

"It's all right Sam," Frodo sat in the forward seat (now well padded), and 
reached to pat his friend on the knee. "You do everything else so well I suppose 
we had to discover *one* skill lacking!"

"Thank you, Mr. Frodo," Sam said ruefully. "It's just when I lean out and push 
the paddle in the water, I just know I'm either going to drop it or tumble right 
over the side or......" He sighed. "It's just not natural, a Gamgee and water, 
and that's that."

Frodo saw that in the boat just behind Boromir was giving Pippin a few pointers. 
Merry, it turned out, had needed no instruction at all.

"I wonder whose boat Gandalf would have been in," Frodo mused quietly. "He might 
have wanted to keep an eye on Pippin and keep him from falling overboard, but I 
think Pip's grown up so much he wouldn't recognize him." Frodo's heart still 
ached for Gandalf, but the stay in Lórien had been a very healing time and at 
least now he could talk about him.

"I suspect the Elves would have given us a fourth boat if there were still nine 
of us," said Aragorn. "It's amusing to picture Gandalf paddling down the river 
with us in that outlandish hat." He was glad to see Frodo smile. "If we *would* 
have been using boats, that is. What plans Gandalf had past Lórien I suppose we 
will never know."

"I suppose not," Frodo said. He looked around. "Bilbo would have loved this. He 
always wanted to go everywhere and see everything. He'd be traveling still if he 
hadn't grown old and frail so quickly. It was hard to see him.........that 
way........." Frodo suddenly turned pale. "Old and frail........." he whispered 
to himself, aghast at a sudden thought. He looked up at Sam, wide-eyed.

"Mr. Frodo, there's no point in thinking such things," Sam declared.

Aragorn was looking from one hobbit to the other, completely confused. "What in 
the world are you two talking about?"

Frodo looked at him, obviously shaken. "Aragorn, how old do you think I am?"

"How old? What difference does........"

"Please. I know you've been helping guard the Shire for years, you must know 
more about hobbits than anyone except for Gandalf. How old do I look?"

Aragorn saw that Frodo was deadly serious about something, even a bit 
frightened. "Well, I know you're of age, Frodo. Sam and Merry seem about the 
same age. You look a bit younger. Pippin's much younger, no doubt about that. 
What is this all about?"

When Frodo didn't answer, Sam said, "That's a good guess, Strider. I'm 38 and 
Merry is 36. Pippin is 28, he'll be a tweenager for a few years yet."

"I'm 50, Aragorn," said Frodo.

"You are? Frodo, you don't look any older than........."

"I know," Frodo said. "It's the Ring. I've had it since I was 33, and haven't 
aged a day since." He sighed. "I'd gotten used to it, you know. Always looking 
the same. The way Bilbo always looked the same. Until he got rid of........got 
rid of it."

"I see," Aragorn said quietly. "He didn't start to age again until he got rid of 
the Ring. And when you get rid of it......"

"Yes," said Frodo. He looked out at the shoreline going by and said nothing 
more.

"Fifty is hardly old and frail, Frodo," said Aragorn after a few minutes. "I 
passed 50 quite a few years ago, and I can still stagger about and feed myself 
on occasion."

Frodo laughed, then grew serious again. "I just never thought of it before. I 
think the Ring is filling my head with all the reasons why I shouldn't destroy 
it. Why I should......" he absently fingered the chain about his neck.

"It's like the dragon, isn't it?" asked Sam.

Frodo was startled out of his reverie. "What do you mean?"

"It's like that dragon from Mr. Bilbo's adventure. That Smaug. He said dragons 
tell you just enough truth to make you believe everything they say. You stop 
listening to yourself and start listening to them. You can't listen to dragons, 
that's all. You can't look them in the eye." He looked at Frodo intently. "You 
can't listen, Mr. Frodo. You just can't."

"Sam," Frodo whispered. He bowed his head, his hand dropping into his lap. He 
took a deep breath. "Thank you."

Aragorn put his arm around Sam's shoulders. "Forget about the paddling, Sam. 
Frodo is right --- you do everything else very well indeed."


  
 Chapter 3 --- Smoke and Mirrors

The second day passed uneventfully, as did the third. By the time the fourth 
afternoon arrived Pippin was so restless he thought he would burst, but he made 
a great effort not to. He was sitting next to Boromir, and Merry was lying down 
between the front and middle seats thinking about nothing in particular.

Pippin kicked him lightly on the leg. "How can you be comfortable down there, 
Merry? It's all damp."

"If this is the wettest I get by the time we get to the end of this river, I'll 
be lucky." Merry frowned a little. "Strange sky today. Don't you think so, 
Boromir?"

"It is a peculiar color, I'll grant you that. A storm coming up most likely."

Pippin sighed, thoroughly bored. As he had no idea where they were, it felt like 
every day was the same and they weren't getting anywhere. "Where are we? Have we 
come very far yet?"

Boromir started to talk when he realized that Merry was already answering 
Pippin's question.

"To the east are the Brown Lands," he said lazily. "Not much to speak of there. 
To the west are some hills and Downs and then that Fangorn Forest we're supposed 
to stay away from."

Boromir was staring at him, amazed at the hobbit's knowledge of lands he had 
never seen.

Merry continued, "Really, Pip what *did* you do all that time in Rivendell? 
There were maps all over the place."

"I didn't think they'd let me come with you, you know," said Pippin quietly. 
"Even if they let *you* go, I figured they'd bundle me up right quick and ship 
me home. Just didn't seem to be any need to study maps and things."

Merry sat up, taken by Pippin's serious tone. "Are you still glad Elrond let you 
come?"

"Yes," said Pippin firmly. He looked up at the darkening sky and desolate lands 
about them. "Well, most of the time."

At the next likely spot Aragorn called a halt. A breeze coming from the east 
made it easy to bring the boats to the western side of the river. "We should 
cover the boats and make camp. I don't like the look of that sky." Everyone 
complied, piling some food and bedding near a scraggly tree under some extra 
waterproof covers the elves had provided. Frodo had just dropped his pack on the 
pile when he looked up the grassy slope and froze. His mouth moved soundlessly 
in one word, "Gandalf?" He took off at a dead run up the slope and past the 
trees before anyone knew what was happening.

"Frodo!" Aragorn shouted, but the hobbit didn't stop. "Boromir, keep everyone 
here. Don't let them scatter. Sam, stay here!"

Frodo had run through the scattered trees and out onto a grassy meadow before 
Aragorn caught up to him, grabbing him and forcing him down to the ground They 
lay, gasping for breath. "Frodo, where are you going? Why didn't you stop?" 
Aragorn shook him a little as the hobbit seemed not to hear him.

"Aragorn?" Frodo looked around with a puzzled look on his face. "Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Gandalf! I saw him, Aragorn, he was waving to me. He was.." Frodo pointed at 
the empty meadow, starting to get scared. "He was right..."

"I don't know what you saw, but we have to get back. Gandalf isn't here, Frodo. 
He can't be." The Ranger rose, lifting Frodo to his feet. "Come on, we'll----"

At that moment there was a blinding light and thunderous crash, then another. 
Frodo gasped and pressed his hands over his ears. Twin lightning strikes had 
ignited the dry winter grass between them and the trees they had run through. 
Before they could react, the eastern breeze had whipped into a strong wind, 
helping the fire spread and blowing thick smoke directly at them. The two 
companions retreated helplessly before the spreading blaze. The meadow was 
burning in a long line in front of them, making it impossible to go around the 
fire.

Aragorn looked around, then behind them. He kneeled down in front of the 
terrified hobbit. "Frodo, listen to me. I think something lured you out here. 
There's no safety on this side of the fire, we have to get back to camp." Frodo 
nodded, close to tears. Of course it couldn't have been Gandalf. What was he 
thinking? The smoke was already reaching them. It had all happened so fast 
neither could quite believe it.

"Get on my back and hang on. I'm going to run through this as fast as I can. 
Frodo.." Aragorn paused. "If I fall or can't run for any reason, get up and go. 
Understand? Run back to the river."

"Leave you? But.." Frodo was staring at him, his eyes wide.

"Promise me, Frodo. Something strange is going on. If anything happens to me, 
keep going. Promise."

Frodo swallowed hard. "Aragorn," he whispered, "Nothing will happen to you."

The Ranger sighed and gave Frodo a quick hug. He pulled Frodo's hood up and 
around his face to protect him, then pulled his own hood up. "Hop on." Frodo got 
on his back, his arms around Aragorn's neck. Aragorn stood up. "When I say so, 
take a deep breath and hold it as long as you can. Ready?"

"Yes."

"Take a deep breath, now!" Aragorn plunged into the thick smoke.

  
 ----------------------------------------------------------
 NOTE: Thanks to Talking Hawk for giving me some valuable suggestions for this 
chapter.


Chapter 4 --- Siren Song

Aragorn had planned to run as quickly as he could, but within a few feet 
realized he couldn't see where he was going. With his left hand he pressed an 
edge of his cloak up to his face to help keep out the smoke, and he groped in 
front of him with his right hand, unable to see more than a few feet ahead. This 
was no ordinary fire, but he couldn't afford to think about it yet. He heard 
Frodo starting to cough, and he tried to go faster. It was almost as if 
something was slowing him down, keeping him from getting Frodo to safety. He 
fought his way forward with all his strength.

Frodo felt heat all around him, and he kept his eyes tightly shut. When he 
couldn't hold his breath any longer he took a deep gasp of smoke-filled air and 
started coughing. He tried to focus on holding on, holding on tight. He felt 
Aragorn stumble and almost fall, but he righted himself and kept going.

Suddenly, to his horror, Frodo saw the firey letters from the Ring blazing in 
front of his closed eyes. He hadn't seen the ancient lettering since that 
morning in the Shire when Gandalf had thrown the Ring into his small fire in Bag 
End. He felt an urge to run back to the meadow, to take the Ring and run. It was 
almost overwhelming. No, he thought desperately, leave me alone. He shook his 
head and moaned, everything starting to spin around him.

Aragorn felt Frodo start to lose his grip on his tunic, and just in time he 
grabbed the small hands and held them tightly against him. They had to be almost 
there...suddenly he felt hands reach out from in front of him and grab his 
cloak. He was pulled forward. The air grew cool and clear once again, and he 
stumbled to his knees into Legolas' arms at the top of the same slope Frodo had 
first dashed up. Somebody pulled Frodo off him and he felt the cold wind in his 
face. A water bottle was held to his mouth, and he gulped down as much water as 
he could handle.

With his eyes still tightly closed, Frodo felt the cool air surround him as 
Aragorn sank to the ground. Someone grabbed him. Confused by the vision of the 
Ring still before him, he fought to get away. "You can't have it!" he yelled. 
"Hold him, Gimli. Frodo, it's Legolas. You're safe." Frodo felt cool hands 
pressed to his face and tried to focus on the soft voice. "You're safe, Frodo. 
Don't fight. Open your eyes, little one." The vision of the Ring slowly faded 
and disappeared. Frodo opened his eyes and looked around, coughing. He was on 
the ground, in Gimli's arms. Legolas pressed a water bottle to his mouth and he 
drank thirstily, the icy water soothing his throat before a fresh bout of 
coughing shook his small body.

"Easy, Frodo." Aragorn knelt next to him. "Drink more, that's it. Don't try to 
talk." Frodo suddenly felt panic welling up again. "I won't listen! You can't 
have it!" He looked around wildly, then sagged against Gimli. "So tired," he 
whispered, his eyelids fluttering closed. Aragorn turned to Legolas. "We have to 
get him away from here." At that moment the first cold, wet drops of rain began 
to fall. The Elf pulled Frodo out of Gimli's lap and carried him down the slope, 
while Aragorn followed slowly with his hand on Gimli's shoulder for support. He 
felt exhausted, drained.

When Sam saw Legolas returning with Frodo in his arms, he broke away from 
Boromir and raced to meet him. "Over here, Legolas." Sam led him to a blanket 
spread out under a tree. Legolas put Frodo down and sat down next to him, giving 
him more water and speaking in a soft, soothing voice. Sam joined them and 
pulled a waterproof cover around them to keep out the rain. Aragorn sank down a 
few feet away, and Pippin and Merry sat down next to him and huddled under 
covers of their own. The rest of the company did the same nearby.

Merry looked up at Aragorn's soot-streaked face. "What happened up there, 
Strider? We heard a frightful noise and saw smoke."

Frodo had stopped coughing, but he was leaning against Sam feeling weak and 
confused. Sam's hand, holding his, felt so wonderfully solid, so real. It helped 
him to focus. Frodo looked into his friend's worried eyes. "I'm all right," he 
whispered.

Before Aragorn could answer Merry's question, Pippin looked up at him. Aragorn 
was rubbing his eyes, which were irritated from the smoke and heat. "Strider, 
can I get something out of your pack?" Aragorn immediately thought of a dozen 
reasons why this was a bad idea, but the question was so odd he found himself 
nodding. Pippin raced over to the pile of packs, unlacing Aragorn's and pulling 
out a length of cloth. He grabbed a full water bottle and was back underneath 
the cover before he got too wet. Pippin folded the cloth a few times, soaked it 
in the water, and held it up to Aragorn. "Here. Hold this over your eyes, it'll 
make them feel better."

"Thank you, Pippin." Aragorn smiled at him, pressing the cold, wet cloth to his 
eyes with relief. "That feels better. Legolas, how is Frodo?" he asked.

"He's coming out of it, whatever *it* is," the Elf said. "I don't think he quite 
knew where he was for a minute. By the looks of the two of you, you were 
fighting more than smoke up there."

It had rained hard for only 15 minutes or so when the drops suddenly stopped 
altogether. Boromir frowned. "That was a very strange storm. At least it 
probably put the fire out."

"You have no idea how strange it was, Boromir," said Aragorn. "Frodo, can you 
tell us what happened to you?"

"I saw Gandalf," said Frodo with a sigh. His throat hurt, and his voice was 
barely above a whisper. Everyone strained to hear him. "Everything else 
disappeared. Aragorn says he was calling for me, but I didn't hear him. I didn't 
hear anything. The next thing I knew I was on the ground and Aragorn was shaking 
me. Gandalf was gone. Then the lightning set the meadow on fire. It was 
terrifying." Frodo paused to drink more water. "Aragorn knew we had to get out 
of there, he picked me up and ran. That's when I felt...it was like...." He 
tried hard to remember. "It was like something was calling me back, to run back 
through the fire. Someone wanted the Ring, wanted me to bring it to them. It was 
so strong I could hardly bear it."

"There *was* something strong at work there," agreed Aragorn. "Every step I took 
seemed like I was stumbling through thick mud, fighting against some obstacle. I 
wasn't sure we would get out of that smoke."

"It seemed like hours." said Frodo. "I fought so hard, got so tired. Then I 
heard... I thought I heard Sam's voice. Talking about the dragons." Sam looked 
at him, startled, as Frodo squeezed his hand tighter. "Sam said not to listen to 
dragons. Something..something happened then. It was like waking slowly from a 
nightmare." He looked at Aragorn gratefully. "I don't know what would have 
happened if you hadn't come after me. I'm not even sure what *did* happen." He 
leaned his head against Sam's shoulder, suddenly feeling very sleepy.

"I have a guess," said Aragorn quietly. "It's odd, though..Boromir, how far are 
we from Isengard?"

Boromir started to answer, then grinned. "Ask Merry," he said.

"What? Why?" Aragorn looked at Boromir, then at Merry, who was groaning with 
embarrassment. "Merry?"

"Boromir," Merry sighed. "Very well. Gosh it's a long way, Strider. Maybe 300 
miles.." he pointed precisely southwest. "That way. Past the Entwash and..." 
Merry stopped, confused by the amazed faces around him. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Aragorn said with a smile. He looked down at Pippin, who was pouring 
more cold water on the cloth for his eyes. "Hobbits just never cease to amaze, 
that's all."

"Aragorn," said Gimli with a frown, "Are you saying that Saruman is behind 
this?"

"It seems the most likely explanation." said the Ranger. "Phantom wizards and 
freak storms --- like that blizzard at the Redhorn Pass --- and it's almost as 
if someone was trying to ensnare Frodo in some type of spell. He didn't feel an 
urge to put on the Ring, but to bring it to someone. None of us know what 
Saruman looks like, we just know what he *is* like. And he wants the Ring." He 
looked at Sam with a smile. "Wizard or no, he is likely just learning of the 
resilience and strength of hobbits. Frodo and Sam together are an enemy the 
likes of which he has no doubt never encountered." Sam blushed.

Aragorn got up, feeling rested. "Sam, try to keep Frodo awake, I want to check 
his throat for any swelling. Gimli, can you find some dry wood for a fire? I'd 
like to make something for Frodo's sore throat and we need to dry out. If that 
fire on the meadow didn't draw any unwelcome attention, a small one down here 
certainly won't make things any worse. We'll put it out before it gets fully 
dark."

"I'll go with you!" Pippin leaped up and followed after Gimli.

Boromir sighed. "That youngster has so much energy he makes me dizzy."

"It's hard for him to sit still all day in the boat," Merry said. He grinned. 
"He's never endured a worse torture!" He got up to dig out some food.

"I hope he never has to," Boromir whispered to himself.

*****************

Boromir lay sleepless long after the camp was quiet, unable to get Merry's 
offhand jest about torture out of his mind. He realized how fond he had become 
of these little ones, how unthinkable it was that anything should... Surely 
there were better ways to protect them than this hopeless journey south to 
destroy the one thing that could...

Frodo lay nearby in an exhausted sleep, nearly buried in a pile of hobbits. All 
three had decided that if anything came after Frodo in the night it would have 
to go through all of them.

It seemed to Boromir that there was very little in Middle-earth not stalking 
their tiny Ringbearer. Even the weather itself. Frodo should not have to bear 
this alone, such a fragile, innocent creature. Sauron was after the Ring. 
Saruman as well. That creature Gollum. They mustn't get it. Why was everyone so 
afraid to wield it?

Boromir had seen the look Frodo gave Aragorn, that grateful, almost worshipful 
look. If Aragorn chose not to come to Minas Tirith, Boromir now knew beyond 
doubt that Frodo would not come either. He and the rest would follow Aragorn to 
almost certain capture, or death in the firey chasms of Mount Doom. And now 
Frodo would be more closely watched than ever. Aragorn would not let him out of 
his sight again.

Yet I need to speak to Frodo alone, somehow. Surely he must grow weary of this 
burden. Surely I can make him understand that there are other paths open to him. 
It is he who puts the others in danger. How can I protect them when he makes 
such a choice? This cannot be permitted to continue.



Chapter 5 --- Shadows and Light

Pippin awoke with an odd feeling. He looked around and discovered a bright 
morning. It seemed a lot later than when someone usually woke him up, and no one 
was making any preparations to leave. Sam, Merry, and Frodo were still asleep, 
and the others were sitting around a small fire, talking quietly. Aragorn 
noticed him and came over.

"It's all right, Pippin," he whispered. "You can sleep late if you want to."

"Why?"

"We're going to travel at night for awhile, make ourselves a little less 
visible. It may be safer thus. The more rest everyone gets today the better." He 
smiled. "When everyone's hungry enough, they'll wake up!"

"Sounds kind of dangerous, Strider," Pippin said with a yawn. "We'll be really 
*really* hungry by then." Aragorn smiled and walked away. Pippin was asleep 
again within minutes.

*********************

After a late (and larger than usual) breakfast, the hobbits took the opportunity 
to bathe as best they could at the river's edge despite the icy water. Frodo 
especially needed to scrub all the soot and grime off him from the day before as 
he had fallen asleep so fast the previous night. Legolas and Aragorn went to see 
what damage the fire had caused, and to try to find evidence of anyone else who 
might have been up there. When they returned, Aragorn spotted Frodo sitting 
under a tree.

"Do you want to be alone, Frodo?"

Frodo smiled at him. "I doubt you'll ever let me be alone again, after 
yesterday. Here, sit down." The Ranger sat beside him, noting the waterskin 
lying in the grass.

"I'm glad you're drinking a lot of water. Your voice sounds better, how does 
your throat feel?"

"Better. Yesterday seems like a dream, somehow. It was so strange..." He looked 
up, frowning. "Why do you think the lightning hit the grass and not us?"

"I was thinking about that too. That was one of the reasons I didn't think it 
was an ordinary storm. Under normal circumstances lightning hits the tallest 
thing around, which would have been me, I suppose. With our swords and your 
mithril we certainly were a target. I don't suppose we'll ever really know."

"Did you find anything?"

"No. No footprints or anything else. There was no sign that anyone had been out 
there for quite some time ---- physically, anyway. Of course the rain could have 
washed away any signs."

"I doubt anyone was there ---- physically, anyway," said Frodo with a sigh. 
"It's quite wearying, always being a target. And that means all of you are 
targets as well.." His voice trailed off.

"It's not you who put anyone in danger. It's the Ring and those who would use it 
to enslave and destroy. You're not responsible for us, Frodo. We're here of our 
own free will."

"I know. Yet it gets more and more difficult, knowing all of you are in peril 
just being near me. I fear something may happen. Are you ever afraid, Aragorn? 
You don't seem to be."

Aragorn looked out over the water. "Of course I am. Mostly when things happen 
when I'm not sure that what I can give you is enough. Like yesterday. It's hard 
to fight shadows." He looked down at the hobbit. "It eases me to think that you 
don't always have to rely on a sword or a bow for defense, but that there are 
other powers, other strengths. I meant what I said about you and Sam, you know. 
Something surely binds you two, I've never seen anything like it. Gandalf knew 
that, such foresight he had. I wish you really had seen him yesterday, Frodo. It 
would be so wonderful to see him again, to talk with him."

"It certainly would. But Aragorn," Frodo rose, now eye to eye with the seated 
Ranger. "I'd have been dead long ago if not for you, and the Ring in the hands 
of the Enemy. Perhaps you're better at fighting shadows than you think."

"Perhaps." Aragorn looked up at the sun, nearly overhead. "Do you think you can 
sleep a bit? We have to set watches during the day now, and proceed at night as 
quietly as we can." He smiled. "It will hard for Merry to travel at night, I 
think. In the dark he won't be able to tell every second where we are!"

"He is amazing, isn't he? Such a head for plans and strategies and maps. I never 
knew that before we left the Shire. His family is very proud of him, he's to be 
Master of Buckland someday you know." Frodo thought about it. "Odd how we all 
seem be heir to something. Merry, Pippin, Legolas, Boromir, you..me..I wonder if 
Gimli.."

"Not Sam, I suppose," said Aragorn quietly.

"No, not Sam," Frodo sighed. "But he'll never want for anything, so long as I 
draw breath. He deserves so much, he's so much more than he believes himself to 
be. What he's done for me..." He turned to the Ranger with an intense look. 
"When we've finished this, Aragorn, and you're king, you must see to it that 
Samwise Gamgee's name is known and honored throughout the lands. I very much 
want to see that happen. Promise me."

When we've finished this and you're king. Aragorn caught his breath at such a 
statement. Such a long road yet, such a long, dark road. Made brighter by this 
small person in front of him. So much brighter. He put his right hand to his 
breast. "I will, Frodo. You have my word." He tried to lighten the mood. "And 
you must tell me what Pippin is heir to. Not all of Tookland, is it? I'll try to 
be more respectful around him!" They laughed together, but Frodo was not quite 
finished.

"Aragorn," he said softly, "Thank you for taking such good care of me. Sam tends 
me as he would one of his beloved gardens, needing water and food and rest and 
care. And you.." Frodo swallowed hard. "Thank you," he whispered. He turned and 
walked over to his bedroll, leaving Aragorn sitting on the grass, sitting 
motionless for quite a long time.



 
Chapter 6 --- Conversations on the River

"Boromir, are you listening to me?"

Boromir was brought back to the present with a jolt. The fifth night of their 
journey found their boat drifting some distance behind Aragorn's, sliding down 
the Anduin under a thin crescent moon and brilliant stars. Merry was seated next 
to him, paddling at need, while Pippin lay half asleep among the packs and 
baggage behind them.

"Forgive me, Merry. What were you saying?"

Merry spoke just above a whisper, as they had all grown used to doing. "You've 
been so still, with such an odd look on your face. You've done nothing but stare 
at.... Boromir, are you staring at Frodo? Are you angry with him about 
something?"

"No," the Man flushed and thought quickly. "No, not angry. I'm just still 
learning about hobbits, you know. Frodo has always seemed different, quite 
unlike the rest of you. He even *looks* quite unlike the rest of you."

He was unprepared for the response. "I know," Merry sighed solemnly. "It's a 
problem."

"A problem? Is Frodo considered so ill-favored then among the Shirefolk? It's 
difficult to believe."

"No, of course not. He's amazing looking, anyone can see that. Still..." Merry 
sighed again. Boromir was completely confused, but relieved the subject had been 
changed so quickly.

"Frodo's felt different all his life, you know," Merry continued. "Just being an 
orphan would have been enough. Then he was a Baggins among Brandybucks, then a 
Brandybuck among Bagginses... Bilbo saw to it that he was the best educated, 
best dressed, best everything. He stood out, lots of folks were jealous and 
mean. And of course he grew up to look like, well, *that*. Different, different, 
different. And all he ever wanted was to be a part of things just like anyone 
else."

"Then he got the Ring," piped up Pippin, who had been listening. "And now 
everything's hunting him and chasing him, it's like he's all lit up in the dark. 
More different than ever. Poor Frodo." Both hobbits fell silent for a moment, 
contemplating the cruel destiny that had been their gentle cousin's life.

"I was 11 when it started, remember Merry? At the Party? I felt so grown up 
being allowed to stay up that late.." Boromir stopped listening long before 
Pippin tired of recounting some extravagant party Bilbo had apparently thrown 
for himself.

"Here, Merry, I'll paddle for a bit," Boromir said softly, bringing their boat 
closer to Aragorn's and sinking back into his thoughts.

********************

Legolas could finally stand it no longer. "Dwarves are capable of the most 
peculiar sounds. What are you thinking and muttering about, Gimli?"

"Wizards."

"What about them?"

"How do we know it is only Saruman whom we must fear? What of the rest of the 
Istari, as you call them? Do they seek the Ring as well? If not, why do they not 
assist the Ringbearer in Gandalf's stead?"

Legolas stared at him, his paddle dipping automatically down and back, down and 
back. "Worthy questions, my friend, quite beyond my ability to answer. I suspect 
if any of the Istari could assist us they would have been called to the Council. 
We may meet them yet, although in what guise I cannot say."

********************

"I know what I heard, Mr. Frodo. And I know what I saw."

"I believe you, Sam." Frodo and Sam lay together in the rear of their boat, 
gazing back past the other boats, looking and listening.

"What's so fascinating back there, Frodo?"

Frodo got up and sat next to Aragorn. "We're being followed. Gollum."

"Ah yes," the Ranger said. "He's been on our trail since we left Lórien. I had 
hoped that with swift paddling and this icy water we could outdistance him, but 
apparently not. Did Sam hear him?"

"Yes," said Frodo. "And I've seen him. Several times, always at night."

Aragorn looked at him. "Frodo, I tracked that creature for months and know how 
difficult he is to see, even in daylight. Has he come that close to you then?"

Frodo looked down at his feet. "No, not close." He sighed. "Ever since the 
Morgul wounding I've been able to see quite well in the dark. I don't know why." 
He grew thoughtful. "The Ring doesn't want to be found by him again, but he's 
drawn to it. The Nazgűl could smell it, I think, and Gollum just..just knows 
where it is."

"And you?" Aragorn asked quietly.

Frodo glanced at Sam, who was watching him. "Except for a few moments here and 
there, it's not been out of my possession for 17 years. If it was, was taken.." 
Frodo could hardly bear the thought. "Yes, I would know where it is. I would 
pursue it as well."

"Don't worry, Mr. Frodo," Sam said encouragingly. "No one's getting at that 
thing until you're good and ready to get rid of it. That's what we're all here 
for, after all."

*******************

The hours passed slowly as dawn approached, and Pippin found it nearly 
impossible to sit still. He traded places with Merry and sat next to Boromir, 
casting about for some topic of conversation.

"Boromir, doesn't anyone *use* this river? There's no bridges, no boats, no 
people..where is everybody?"

Boromir put his arm around him. "You have seen battle, little one, but you have 
not yet seen war. The South is at war, Pippin. The eastern shore is either 
uninhabitable or held by the Enemy, and it has grown unsafe to dwell or farm too 
near the western shoreline. Perhaps someday the Anduin will be safe once again 
for bridges, boats, and people. Not yet. Not yet."

"Not until the Ring is destroyed, I understand. We just have to get Frodo to 
that mountain."

Boromir was about to speak when Aragorn began to paddle strongly toward the 
shore, to a small inlet beneath looming cliffs.

"Wake up, Merry," Pippin whispered. "It's time to make camp and get some sleep."

*******************

Frodo sat up suddenly, gasping for breath. Late morning. The familiar sound of 
sleeping friends breathing quietly around and near him. Stillness. He sighed. 
Only a nightmare.

"Frodo, are you well?" Legolas had walked quickly over to him from where he 
stood nearby. Frodo looked at him, still breathing heavily. "A bad dream, that's 
all," he whispered.

Legolas nodded and turned to go, but something in Frodo's look stopped him. He 
returned to the hobbit's side and knelt down. "Do you wish to talk?"

Frodo rarely shared any doubts or fears, and the Elf was somewhat surprised when 
Frodo nodded and slowly rose, walking toward the boats. Legolas followed, and 
they sat together on one of the wooden seats.

"I don't suppose Elves have bad dreams, do they?"

Legolas chuckled quietly. "Elves seem to dwell in two worlds, Frodo. Perhaps 
they are both real, perhaps both a dream. But no, nightmares such as mortals 
experience do not come to us." He waited. "Tell me."

"There was fire," Frodo whispered. "So hot. Not like Moria, it was...different. 
We were all there, yet I was alone. It was time, I had to, to destroy the Ring. 
It was time. We had made it to the fire." He was breathing hard, remembering. 
"I, I couldn't do it. I couldn't destroy it. I wanted to, I didn't want to, I.." 
He took a deep breath. "Gimli grabbed me, held me down. I was screaming, 
fighting. Somebody took the Ring from me and, and threw it in. Then there was 
just.. everyone looking at me with such disappointment, such anger. I felt only 
shame and grief and emptiness. I had failed." Tears were streaming down Frodo's 
face. "I failed everyone," he whispered, burying his face in his hands.

"Frodo," said Legolas softly, "Do you recall what you pledged to do, at the 
Council?"

"I, I said-----"

"You said you would take the Ring. Perhaps when we get to the fire, Frodo, it 
will not be your task to destroy it. Only to take it there."

Frodo said nothing, but Legolas knew he was listening.

"It was just a dream, perhaps another of Samwise's dragons trying to deceive 
you." He smiled. "We have traveled with you a long way, my friend. There is not 
a person here who does not honor what you are doing and marvel at your strength. 
If you turned back this moment, Frodo, we would not be ashamed of you or hold 
you in lesser esteem. We could never be disappointed in you."

"Thank you," whispered Frodo. He wiped his eyes. "Don't tell Sam. About the 
nightmare, I mean. He worries enough about me as it is."

"I will not. But Samwise knows and senses more than you may think, Frodo. You do 
not wish to weigh him down with added worry or care, but I suspect he would not 
be burdened by such things. To lend you strength brings him great joy and 
purpose. I do not believe you truly know the gifts that surround you." He 
grasped Frodo's chin and gently brought the hobbit's eyes up to meet his. "Do 
not let the shadow blind you to light, Frodo. It is all around you. It is within 
you. I think it will be enough to help you when you most need it."

Legolas stood up. "Try to sleep a bit more, your watch does not begin for many 
hours yet."

"I will."

The Elf watched Frodo walk slowly back to his bedroll and lie down. He didn't 
tell Frodo, but he was thinking that perhaps the nightmare had something of a 
future portent about it. Ring-bearer, Legolas thought, but perhaps not 
Ring-destroyer. Will that task fall to one of us?



Chapter 7 --- No Safety

Later that day Frodo and Boromir took watch together, sitting on a large, flat 
rock where they could keep one eye on the towering cliffs ringing their campsite 
and one eye on the eastern shore.

"It's good to see Aragorn get some sleep," Frodo said quietly. "I don't know how 
he does it."

"Aye, he reminds me of my brother in that. He can also go long days and nights 
without sleep or rest." Boromir motioned toward Pippin, walking around a short 
distance away looking at interesting rocks on the pebbly beach. "Even young 
Pippin has learned to need less sleep!"

"Boromir, it is good of you to keep an eye on Pippin and Merry, but you must 
tell us if you grow weary of it! We do not always need to keep to the same 
boats."

The Man smiled. "I have grown quite fond of them, Frodo. It is anything but 
wearying to be around them." His smile faded. "They love you very much. They are 
worried about you."

"I know," Frodo said. "I am worried about them as well. I have been thinking. If 
I choose....." he motioned to the eastern shore. "...perhaps you and Aragorn 
should take them with you to Minas Tirith when you leave us."

Boromir chuckled. "Frodo, I doubt very much Aragorn will leave you, whichever 
path you choose."

Frodo turned to face him, frowning. "At the Council he pledged to accompany you 
to Minas Tirith. I have just assumed..do you say he might not go?"

"I do not know his thoughts, but the leadership of this Company must weigh 
heavily upon him since Gandalf's fall. If you choose to leave the River and 
attempt Mordor from the north, I believe Aragorn will accompany you. But it 
would be more practical to come first to my city, Frodo. For news, for counsel, 
for supplies...." He paused. "I cannot imagine that this Elvish bread alone will 
keep anyone alive for long in the wasteland that lies to the east."

Frodo was about to answer when a sudden flight of birds from the cliffs directly 
above startled him. Spies of the Enemy? Something up there? Or nothing more than 
it seemed.. He sighed. "I no longer know what to think, what to trust. 
Everything you say sounds reasonable, Boromir, it's just..Boromir!"

He and Boromir both saw it at the same time --- a boulder had somehow become 
dislodged from high above, and was tumbling and bouncing down the cliff-face 
directly at them. Boromir yelled out to the others as he grabbed Frodo and ran 
the few yards to the bottom of the cliff, pressing them both against the rock 
face and shielding the hobbit with his body. Frodo heard a tremendous crash, and 
felt everything shake. Small rocks spattered the cliff wall around them. Then 
silence.

Boromir knelt down and turned an ashen-faced Frodo to face him. "Are you all 
right?"

Frodo nodded, stunned. "Are you?" He flung him arms around the Man. "Thank you," 
he gasped. "What about---" He looked over Boromir's shoulder and caught his 
breath, his eyes taking in the scene in an instant. The boulder had smashed down 
directly where he and Boromir had been sitting, sending large and small missiles 
of rock flying through the campsite. Luckily almost everyone had already been 
lying down, if not asleep. What remained of the boulder lay some distance away, 
and the flat rock-seat was cracked and splintered. Gimli had risen to his feet 
and was staring grimly upward.... Aragorn was running.... Sam and Merry were 
running... running to...

Boromir let go of Frodo and raced toward the small crumpled figure lying 
motionless near the boats. "No," Frodo whispered, stumbling forward. No.

Frodo dropped to his knees beside Sam, staring in disbelief at Pippin lying 
unconscious on the ground. Broken bits of rock were scattered everywhere. Merry 
was holding Pippin's hand and Aragorn was gently examining a swelling on his 
left temple. To Aragorn's relief his probing fingers elicited a faint groan from 
Pippin. "That's a good sign, Merry. Boromir, would you get my pack?" The Ranger 
lifted Pippin carefully and carried him over to the young hobbit's bedroll. Sam 
started to rise when he realized Frodo was beside him, pale and shaking.

"Mr. Frodo! Are you hurt?" Frodo turned tear-filled eyes to Sam and shook his 
head. "Oh Sam, not Pippin."

Sam put his arms around his friend. "I know. Merry, Pippin, and I have seen you 
bad hurt, sir, more than once. But you've not seen anything much happen to one 
of us. It's a shock, I know. But he'll be all right, Strider will heal him right 
up. You know Pippin, by dinnertime he'll be...."

Frodo buried his face in Sam's shoulder, scarcely hearing the soothing words. 
What if Pippin had been killed? First Gandalf..what if someone else..? Because 
of him. They were all in danger because of him.



Chapter 8 --- Son of Gondor

Aragorn cleaned the bruise, and to keep Merry occupied with more than fretting 
he gave him the task of keeping a compress wrung out in icy river water bound 
gently to Pippin's temple. He then checked as thoroughly as he could for any 
other injuries and was somewhat amazed to find that there didn't seem to be any. 
He sat back on his heels. "This could have been a lot worse, Merry, he might 
wake with nothing worse than a bad headache. We have to keep him lying still, if 
such a thing is possible." He smiled. "I don't suppose he's old enough to have 
ever had a hangover?"

"Actually he has," Merry said, wetting the cloth again. "Pip's always had a 
taste for ale, and last spring at the Ivy Bush there was this contest---- "

"I see. Well, his head may feel just like that. Keep that compress on him, and 
keep it cold. Sam, it might be a good idea to bring over one of your basins, 
Pippin may feel a bit sick when he wakes up. Frodo, could you rig something to 
keep the sun out of his eyes?" Aragorn covered Pippin with a blanket and knew 
there was nothing left to do but wait. He looked around. "Was anyone else hurt? 
Frodo, did you or Boromir see what happened?"

Frodo folded several of the boat covers and propped them up over Pippin in a 
tent-like shape to keep out the sun. Keeping busy was helping him to feel 
calmer. "We saw a flock of birds take off from the cliff up there, like they 
were startled by something," he said. "A few seconds later that big boulder came 
bouncing down from the top. Boromir...Boromir saved both our lives. I've never 
seen anyone move so fast."

Boromir looked a bit embarrassed by the praise and changed the subject. "Unless 
we climb up there, Aragorn, I doubt we'll ever know if this was an an accident 
or deliberately caused. I think it must have been an accident; who could have 
known we would be here? Gimli, have you seen anything moving up there?"

"Nothing, Boromir. If there were more rocks to throw down, or even arrows, I 
assume someone would have done so by now. This beach is littered with stone from 
many past rockfalls and this may have just been one more of them. Legolas, do 
you see anything?"

Legolas, who had been scanning the eastern shore for any movement, holding his 
bow at ready, shook his head and came over. "I do not see or hear anything 
unusual. It was probably an unfortunate accident, although the landing place and 
timing of that boulder is certainly suspicious. But I agree with Boromir, we may 
never know for certain."

Aragorn shook his head. "Every time we stop something seems to happen, but 
traveling at night still seems the wisest course, especially now. Whatever 
headache Pippin will have won't get any better if he doesn't stay out of the sun 
for a few days. We will leave tonight as soon as I know it is safe for him, and 
we'll have to take turns sleeping on the boats while the others paddle and keep 
watch. It may not be easy to relax here, but we still need to get what rest we 
can before we leave again." Frodo noticed that he looked a bit discouraged, or 
perhaps it was simply weariness. He caught Sam's eye.

"Aragorn," he said, "Take some rest. We'll let you know when Pip wakes."

The Ranger started to refuse, but Sam and Frodo took his hands and pulled him 
over to his bedroll. Amused, Aragorn sat down. "Let me know as soon as---"

"We will," Frodo and Sam spoke as one.

*****************

Aragorn had slept for about an hour when Sam's soft voice woke him. "Strider, 
Pip's waking up." He walked over to the makeshift tent and sat down beside 
Merry. Frodo lay sound asleep next to Pippin, and Gimli and Legolas were still 
keeping watch. Boromir had made a small fire and was sitting nearby. Pippin 
hadn't opened his eyes, but he had raised his right hand up to his head with a 
wince.

"Pippin, lie still." Aragorn took Pippin's left hand from Merry and held it. 
"Don't try to move or get up. Don't raise your head. Just lie still. Press my 
hand if you understand me." He felt a small squeeze. "Don't open your eyes until 
you're ready, Pippin. Can you move all your fingers and toes?"

"Yes," a faint whisper.

"Do you know where you are?"

"River..."

"That's right. I know your head hurts, does anything else hurt? Do you feel pain 
anywhere?"

"Don't think so..Mer.." Merry placed his hand gently on Pippin's shoulder. 
"Right here, Pip," he said softly. Pippin slowly opened his eyes and looked 
around. "What..oh," he whimpered, closing his eyes again. "Dizzy.."

"I know," Aragorn said soothingly. "Merry, lift that compress and let me 
see..yes, the swelling is already less. Pippin, you were hit by a piece of rock, 
but you'll be just fine. Do you feel sick to your stomach?"

"N..No. Just headache and..sleepy.."

Aragorn laid his left hand on Pippin's brow, his touch feather light. "You can 
sleep, Pippin. I'll make you some willow bark tea later for your headache."

"Oh Strider," Pippin murmured. "That stuff is awful. Try..something else.." 
Aragorn felt the small hand in his slowly relax as Pippin fell back to sleep. He 
gently tousled the curly hair and smiled. "You scamp," he said softly. "That 
rock didn't stand a chance against you."

*****************

Frodo noticed Boromir flexing and rubbing his shoulder, and sat by him.

"You *were* hurt, weren't you? Why didn't you say something?"

"It's a small thing, just a bruise. Pippin is the one who needs the attention 
and care."

Frodo's eyes drifted back to Pippin. "I can't stop thinking about what might 
have happened, that he might have been... I can't bear to see him hurt."

"Nor I," said Boromir quietly. "Yet none of us is indestructible. Pippin chose 
to come with you and share whatever peril came. We all did."

"I never thought.." Frodo's voice was scarcely above a whisper. "I never truly 
thought about Pippin and Merry..in Mordor."

"You know they will not leave you willingly. Bring them to the safety of Minas 
Tirith and decide from there what to do."

Frodo rose and laid his hand on the Man's sore shoulder, gently soothing the 
hurt. Boromir smiled. "That feels good, thank you." He grew aware that Frodo's 
hand was shaking a little, and he reached back and drew the hobbit close to him. 
"It was a close call, Frodo, but don't dwell on what might have happened. It 
serves no purpose."

Frodo tore his eyes away from the flat stone, now broken, where he and Boromir 
had been sitting just hours before. His thoughts flew backwards --- - to the 
Redhorn Pass..the wargs...Moria ---- to everything Boromir had done for them. 
For him. "I wish you would stay."

Boromir sighed. "Some days ahead are the lake of Nen Hithoel and the Falls of 
Rauros. I will perhaps go that far with you, but if you choose the eastern 
way.." He shook his head. "I've been gone half a year now, perhaps more. My duty 
calls me home. I would have liked to bring something more to my father than the 
answer to a rhyme and the rumor of a king, but if you will not return with me 
that is all I will have to bring."

"I have not decided what to do, Boromir."

"I know. But think on it, Frodo. The borders of the Black Land cannot be 
breached; not even with an army could you do so. There is no food, no water, 
little concealment. The land is watched and orcs are everywhere. The very air is 
poison. I do not know what Gandalf had planned for you, but the thought of 
hobbits in such a place chills my blood." His gaze fell on the shattered 
remnants of the boulder.. the shattered remnants of the tower of Ecthelion. 
Minas Tirith in ruins. The Shadow spreading, devouring.. Boromir closed his 
eyes, but it was still before him. Death. Ruin.

"Do not take the Ring back to Sauron, Frodo. All will be lost." His arm 
tightened convulsively around the hobbit and his voice sank to an anguished, 
almost inaudible whisper. "All will be lost!"



Chapter 9 --- Stout Hearts

"It's unnatural," grumbled Gimli. "I don't like it."

"What's unnatural?"

Gimli gestured to where Pippin lay, Frodo and Merry curled up on either side of 
him. Sam had taken Merry's place and was keeping the compress on Pippin's 
forehead cold. "It's too quiet."

"I see," Legolas smiled. They were checking the boats for any damage. "No 
hobbits talking, pestering, eating, stirring things up, running about."

"That's what I said. Unnatural."

"Gimli, how will you ever be able to stand your quiet caves after this? Perhaps 
you had better take a few hobbits home with you." Legolas sat down on one of the 
boat seats. "Pippin can entertain you with endless tales and songs, Merry can 
map out the caverns, and Sam can make you even rounder with his cooking."

Gimli looked at him. "What of Frodo?"

The Elf said nothing for a few moments. "I have never seen or heard of anyone 
enduring so much. The evil of the Ruling Ring must tear at his very soul, yet he 
refuses to listen. I would not even jest about the destiny of such a one." He 
looked toward Frodo, lying asleep as close to Pippin as he could get. "He 
shines, sometimes, Gimli. Sometimes there is a clear light that.." He shook his 
head, unable to explain it. "I have seen the way Samwise looks at him, I believe 
he sees it as well. We have been greatly honored to be in this Company."

Gimli nodded. "Yes, I agree. A rare honor indeed."

Legolas looked at him. "Have you thought much, my friend, about what lies ahead? 
Neither of us pledged to enter Mordor, yet I suspect that is the choice Frodo 
will make. Even Elrond could not see the end of our road, perhaps even 
Mithrandir could not. The darkest part of this journey doubtless still lies 
ahead."

"Aye, the Lady herself said as much, 'on the one hand lies darkness, on the 
other only hope.'" He and Legolas looked steadily at each other, each knowing 
that they would never abandon the Ringbearer. Then Gimli's eyes twinkled. 
"Perhaps the Black Lands will seem less dark when hobbits have invaded it!"

Legolas laughed and clapped Gimli on the back. "Indeed, that would be a sight 
worth all our troubles."

**************

Pippin opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying, wrapped in blankets, 
under some sort of shaded cover. He felt the afternoon sun warming his feet, but 
the cover made everything seem cool and dark. Frodo lay sound asleep to his 
right, his right hand curled tightly in Pippin's blankets. Merry lay asleep to 
his left, his arm wrapped around Pippin's chest. He felt so comfortable, so 
protected. If his head would just stop pounding... He wondered if it was still 
today, or was it tomorrow? He reached up and felt the cloth on his forehead, and 
wriggled around a bit to see if anything else hurt.

"Pip?" Merry was instantly awake. "How do you feel?" Frodo sat up and smiled at 
Pippin in relief.

"Like Sam hit me on the head with one of his pans," Pippin groaned. "What's----" 
he started to get up but Merry pushed him back down.

"You're not supposed to get up yet. Frodo, I'm going to get Strider. Don't let 
him get up, okay? Sit on him if you have to." Merry raced away. Pippin looked at 
Frodo, who was trying unsuccessfully to look stern and threatening. They both 
started to laugh.

"Peregrin Took, I believe that entire boulder could have fallen on you and we 
would still not be rid of you!" Aragorn sat down and grinned at the young hobbit 
so Pippin would know he was joking. "Lie still, you scamp." This time it was 
Aragorn who had to push Pippin back down.

"I'm starving, Strider!"

"What a surprise. First tell me how you feel. Any nausea?"

"No."

"Really?" Aragorn was surprised. "Dizziness?"

"A little."

"How's your head?"

Pippin sighed. "It hurts." He closed his eyes for a second. "A lot."

Pippin was being brave, but Aragorn noted how pale he was. "You're recovering 
very fast. I thought Frodo was the only hobbit who could do that." Pippin 
smiled. "I'm going to bring you some willow bark tea.." Pippin grimaced. "...and 
if you drink it all I have a treat in mind for you. Something very special." He 
turned to Merry. "You can get him something to eat, Merry. Not too much right 
away, though. Frodo, help me with this." Frodo pulled a couple of the packs over 
while Aragorn slowly and gently lifted Pippin into a sitting position and then 
leaned him against the packs. "All right?" Pippin nodded. "Keep an eye on him. 
I'll be back." The Ranger walked over to the small fire to brew some of the tea.

When Aragorn returned, Pippin was just finishing the dried fruit and cheese 
Merry had brought him. He eyed the steaming mug mournfully, then saw what 
Aragorn had in his other hand. A wafer of lembas.

Pippin looked at him, wide eyed. He knew about the lembas, it was special and 
not to be touched. Aragorn doled pieces of it out very sparingly, and Pippin had 
decided it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. A few months ago nothing that 
tasted that good, however special or forbidden, would have been safe from him. 
But he had not taken any in secret, not even when there had been opportunities 
to do so. Now here was a whole wafer of it being offered to him. Just for him. 
He reached out his hand, then drew it back. It just didn't seem right. He looked 
up at Aragorn.

"Can everyone else have some too?"

Surprised, the Ranger looked into Pippin's eyes and smiled. "You are a wonder, 
Peregrin Took." He took the small hand and closed it around the waybread, then 
stood up. "Yes, everyone else can have some too. Provided you finish that tea." 
He looked at Frodo, who nodded. "He'll drink it, Aragorn."

Aragorn walked over to the boat Gimli and Legolas shared, and took out some of 
the leaf-wrapped packages of lembas. Merry came and stood by him. Aragorn looked 
over at Pippin, who had broken off a corner of the waybread and was insisting 
that Frodo have some. "He's growing up, Merry."

"I know. I don't know if his family will even recognize him. It might be 
difficult for Pip, when we get back..get back to.." Merry stopped, his smile 
fading. "Strider," he said quietly, "Do you think we'll ever get back home? Is 
there any hope?"

Aragorn put the packets down and folded Merry in his arms. "There is always 
hope," he said just as quietly. "Even though we're trying to do something that's 
very difficult. I don't know how, but Gandalf seems to have chosen the four 
finest hobbits in the Shire for this quest." He knelt down and looked into 
Merry's eyes. "You've been very brave, you never let Pippin know that you have 
any doubts or fears. I'm sure it hasn't been easy for you."

Merry gazed at him solemnly. "It's what you're doing for Frodo."

"Yes it is," the Ranger agreed. "Let's keep being brave for awhile longer, all 
right?"

"All right." Merry eyed the packets on the ground. "Is one of those for me?"

Aragorn laughed and got to his feet. "Half of one of those is for you, you 
scoundrel. I haven't seen *you* missing any meals."

"I suspect you've never feasted on what a hobbit would consider a true 'meal,' 
Strider," said Merry. "We'll have to remedy that.." He paused and looked at 
Aragorn with a smile. "..when we get home."


  
 Chapter 10 --- Choices

Sam, the best at packing and arranging things, busied himself setting up a place 
in Boromir's boat for Pippin to lie down comfortably during the night as they 
traveled. He redistributed gear to the other boats and made sure Pippin would 
have enough blankets under and over him.

Pippin grumbled a bit when Aragorn not only wouldn't let him stand up yet, but 
also insisted that he lie down in the boat all night and try not to sit up 
unless absolutely necessary. He was still protesting when, just before the 
Company was due to leave, he realized his head was beginning to throb again. He 
closed his eyes, and after awhile thought he heard his name and felt a hand on 
his shoulder. "Go 'way," he murmured. Boromir's soft chuckle, strong arms 
lifting him. He heard voices, someone's fingers at his wrist...more 
voices..movement... He was wondering if he could stand to swallow more of 
Strider's tea when sleep claimed him once more.

Boromir carried Pippin to their boat and he and Merry settled him in amongst the 
nest Sam had made for him. Aragorn noticed Merry's worried look. "It's all 
right, Merry, he'll probably sleep on and off for a few days. Any head injury, 
even a small one, tends to have that effect. He really is recovering fast." He 
looked at everyone else. "Let's make as much distance as we can. Stay quiet, and 
stay alert."

Frodo came over to Boromir, concerned. "Does your shoulder still ache?" he asked 
quietly, "I know you didn't tell anyone you were injured."

The Man smiled at him. "You have a good heart, Frodo, but 'twas a small thing. 
It would take more than a bit of rock to fell a Man of Gondor!" Frodo smiled at 
him and they went to their boats.

It was an uneventful night. They paddled for long stretches, gliding past a 
countryside increasingly barren to the east, high and rocky to the west. At 
dawn, the weary travelers glided into a tiny beach and took turns sleeping and 
keeping watch.

Aragorn and Merry shared the watch in the late afternoon of that seventh day, 
and as they sat together in one of the boats Aragorn thought the time had come 
to discuss a difficult subject.

"Merry," he began, "You and Pippin have a decision to make soon."

"We do?"

Aragorn looked at him. "Very soon Boromir will be returning home. You know 
that." Merry nodded. "Minas Tirith is a fortified city, as safe a place as now 
stands in Middle-earth. Frodo may decide that we should accompany Boromir and 
attempt Mordor from the west, or he may choose to cross the River soon and 
approach Mordor from the north. Regretfully, this decision will be his alone. If 
Frodo chooses the eastern way, you and Pippin will have to decide whether to 
continue on with him, a very difficult journey even before the border is 
reached, or to go with Boromir to Minas Tirith."

Merry's mouth dropped open in astonishment, and as he started to speak Aragorn 
stopped him. "I know you never planned to leave Frodo. It probably never even 
occurred to you. I just wanted you to know that you have a choice. I wanted you 
to think about it." He smiled at the hobbit. "Go on, now. Wake Frodo and Sam for 
their watch and try to get some sleep." Merry just sat for a few minutes, then 
got up and walked away.

Aragorn wondered what Legolas and Gimli had decided to do, but realized he 
already knew. Like him, in their hearts they were pledged to Frodo's side. Sam.. 
he smiled to himself. That went without saying. He looked over at Merry, sitting 
quietly next to Pippin under the improvised shade cover. As much as Merry wanted 
to keep Pippin safe, Aragorn didn't really think they would ever abandon Frodo. 
There was probably no decision to make.

With all his heart, Aragorn wanted Boromir to take these two back with him, keep 
them safe and protected. If something should happen to one or both of them in 
Mordor he wasn't sure Frodo would be able to go on. On the other hand...he 
sighed. Who was he to say what Frodo Baggins could or could not endure? Or where 
Merry and Pippin's destinies were leading them. They were free to choose. They 
all were. But the hardest choice lay with Frodo, and it could not much longer be 
put off.

******************

Merry knew he should be sleeping, but Pippin was trying to stay awake and there 
was no time like the present. He deserved to make his own decisions.

"Pip?"

"Mmmm?"

"Have you thought about what it will be like when Boromir leaves?"

"Of course I have."

Merry turned over and stared at his cousin. "You have?"

"Sure." Pippin frowned. "What about it?"

"You know Frodo might not want to go with him."

"I know."

"We could go with him, you know. It would be safer and all."

"Leave Frodo?" Pippin sat up even though he knew he wasn't supposed to. His look 
showed that he truly thought his cousin had lost his mind. Slowly, comprehension 
dawned.

"Are you scared something will happen to me in...in..?" He pointed across the 
River. Merry just looked at him and said nothing. "Silly," Pippin smiled and 
touched his still-tender bruise. "Something can happen anywhere."

Merry sighed. "You're growing up so fast, Pip, it's hard to keep up."

Pippin lay down again, a bit sorry he had sat up so fast. "I'm scared for you 
too, you know." He was quiet for a moment. "But I'm mostly scared for Frodo. 
Let's help him get rid of that awful Ring and go home. All right?"

"All right," Merry said softly, pressing his cousin's hand.

"Mer, do you think... do you think we *are* helping Frodo at all?"

"I don't know." Merry was quiet for a moment. "But this is what friends do for 
each other. Gandalf thought we should come, and so did we. Do you remember 
Frodo's face when Elrond said we could go? I don't think he much liked the 
thought of being sent off on this journey with so many Big Folk and only one 
hobbit for company. He was glad, Pip. He still is. Maybe that's enough help for 
now. We have a long way to go still, you know."

"I know." Pippin started to sit up again, then thought better of it and lay back 
down.

"Your head still hurts, doesn't it?"

"Not like before. Not enough to drink more of that bitter stuff." He yawned.

"Try to sleep some more, Strider says it's the best thing you can do."

"I will..if you...will.." Pippin's voice trailed off.

Merry lay on his back and stared up at the clouds. He knew Pippin would miss 
Boromir a lot, and so would he. As best he could figure, they had been traveling 
together for two months. He remembered Caradhras..Moria.. and Frodo would have 
been killed by that rock if not for him. Still.. He didn't like the way Boromir 
had been looking at Frodo recently. It was as if he wasn't even looking at him 
as a person, more as --- the word came unbidden to his mind --- Ringbearer. 
Something wasn't right, they would just have to watch out for Frodo even more 
than before. Merry doubted his cousin had any idea how much he and Sam and 
Pippin worried about him, how closely they watched. He smiled to himself. It was 
just like their conspiracy back in the Shire.

As Merry gazed at the sky, he saw a large, soaring shape pass high overhead. 
Enormous bird, he thought sleepily, is that an eagle? He had never seen one, but 
Bilbo's stories were full of eagles. He noticed Legolas watching it carefully, 
but he didn't seem alarmed. Merry sighed and closed his eyes. If only one of the 
eagles could fly Frodo to the mountain, he mused, and he could just toss the 
Ring overboard.. then just a short flight home.. if only.. finally he fell 
asleep.



Chapter 11 --- Nazgűl

"Young hobbit, I may have to sit on you."

Pippin and Gimli were sharing the afternoon watch on the eighth day, sitting 
together in one of the moored boats. Pippin had insisted he was feeling fine, 
but Aragorn had quietly told Gimli not to let him exert himself too much. The 
Dwarf was beginning to think he had been given a task as impossible as finding 
mithril on the moon. He hauled the hobbit back just as Pippin was about to dash 
off for the third time.

"Gimli, I feel like I've slept through everything! It's hard to sit still for so 
long. I want to...." Suddenly Pippin's voice trailed off. Gimli looked at him, 
and noticed Pippin looking at his axe and frowning.

"Strider's sword has a name, and so does Frodo's. I suppose Boromir's does too. 
Maybe I'll name mine if I ever get to do anything important with it, " said 
Pippin. "Does your axe have a name?"

Gimli fingered his axe almost lovingly. "It does not, Peregrin. Perhaps we can 
think of something."

"Well," Pippin said seriously, "You're certainly skilled with it. And you hate 
orcs, that's plain. Orc-Bane might be good."

"That is a good name. I will consider it." He noticed Pippin shifting slightly, 
facing away from the sun. "Come, sit on this side of me. The air is chill, but 
the sun is bright. You do not want your headache returning."

Pippin was going to say no, but he did feel a slight ache starting. He moved 
around to the other side of the Dwarf and let Gimli shield him from the sun. 
After a few minutes Gimli felt Pippin lean against him, just a little.

When Legolas and Merry came to relieve them, they found Pippin fast asleep, his 
head pillowed in the Dwarf's luxuriant beard. Gimli motioned for them to leave 
them be. "Let him sleep," he said softly. He sat for awhile longer, his arm 
wrapped around Pippin, thinking. Thinking about Orcs...Khazad-Dűm....what lay 
ahead for them in Mordor. Orc-Bane, he was thinking. Indeed.

*******************

That evening Aragorn gathered everyone together. "I think we can dare one more 
trip by night. If I am correct in my reckoning we should reach the rapids of 
Sarn Gebir tomorrow morning. Just above the rapids is a small beach, at which 
point we will have to leave the River and find the ancient portage-way. The 
boats and gear must be carried until we have passed the rapids and can take to 
the River once more."

They set out in darkness, Sam in the lead boat keeping his attention straight 
ahead. If anything was going to make the boat rock or become unsteady, he wanted 
to know about it. Indeed it was good that he was so attentive, as some hours 
later he suddenly cried out as the River before them suddenly resolved into 
white-capped swirls and became turbulent. At the same time, a strong current 
started to draw the boats steadily toward the eastern shore.

"The rapids are upon us sooner than I feared," shouted Aragorn to the boats 
behind. "Paddle strongly back toward the center of the River or we will be 
driven onto the shore!" He and Frodo drove their paddles forcefully into the 
water, attempting to turn the boat.

Without warning, something sharp and hard hit Frodo from behind, the force of 
the blow driving him off the seat onto his knees, his paddle flying from his 
grasp. Sam gasped as Frodo fell at his feet.

"Sam! Get Frodo's paddle. Now, Sam!" Aragorn was driving his paddle deeply into 
the water, urgently trying to turn the boat away from the eastern shore. Sam was 
reaching for Frodo, who was trying unsuccessfully to get up. "Keep down, Frodo. 
Sam, you have to help me, NOW!" At the last possible second Sam grabbed Frodo's 
paddle as it swirled by and then leaped into the middle seat next to Aragorn. 
Mere seconds had passed, and only now he realized that there were harsh cries 
and yells coming from the eastern shore and arrows whizzing past them. "At least 
there's no moon," Aragorn muttered. "Paddle, Sam. As hard as you can."

Sam heard a yell from Pippin, but the other boats were behind them and he 
couldn't turn to see what was happening. "Paddle hard!" yelled Aragorn to the 
others, "Fight the currents and make for the shore!"

Sam didn't know how long they fought to turn the boats in the swift current, but 
his arms were aching by the time he realized they were making headway. The 
western shore loomed near, and for some reason the arrows had ceased to pursue 
them.

Aragorn was equally exhausted. Apparently the dark night combined with the 
subtle colors of the Elvish cloaks and the boats had camouflaged them 
sufficiently to confuse the Enemy. His eyes kept straying to Frodo, but there 
was nothing to be done until they reached the shore. In his thoughts he gave 
thanks for the mithril coat that had probably saved Frodo from death. Again.

Finally the three boats scraped up on land, and Legolas instantly leaped ashore, 
an arrow nocked to his bow. "Stay in the boats," he urged. "Stay down." Everyone 
but Gimli obeyed as the Elf scanned the eastern shore, the dark skies, and the 
River itself. Gimli stood next to Legolas, his axe in hand. "Orcs," he muttered, 
"Let them come!"

Sam could stand it no longer. He dropped his paddle and kneeled next to Frodo, 
trying to protect him with his body. He could feel Frodo breathing heavily, in 
obvious pain.

"I don't see anything," Legolas said. "Wait, what is that?"

Frodo suddenly felt an icy, piercing dart shoot through his left shoulder, a 
spreading, numbing cold he had not felt since.. "No," he gasped, bowing his head 
in terror. As this new pain joined with the blow from the arrow, Frodo started 
to find it difficult to breathe. He started to shake, and Sam wrapped his arms 
about him, holding him tightly. Sam was saying something to him, but louder 
still was a hollow voice, whispers coming closer. No, leave me alone I won't 
listen no...

Aragorn saw Frodo's distress, then followed Legolas' intense gaze and saw a 
shadow in the sky blotting out the stars. Something was approaching from the 
southeast, coming directly at them. Something large...winged..a feeling of dread 
fell on the Company. Aragorn was reaching for his bow when Legolas let fly an 
arrow. There was a scream, a chilling cry familiar to the hobbits, then the 
winged creature fell from the sky and landed somewhere on the eastern shore. 
There were faint yells, then silence.

Sam felt Frodo go limp in his arms. Frodo sighed as the icy pain faded somewhat, 
leaving a throbbing ache where the arrow had hit him and been deflected by the 
mithril coat. He sat up slowly, supported by Sam. He felt drained, weak. There 
was no doubt in his mind what had been approaching. But Elrond had cured 
him..hadn't he? How could the presence of a wraith affect him so? He shook his 
head, confused and frightened.

"Merry," Pippin whispered, "That awful screech sounded like one of those Black 
Riders. What was it riding on?"

"A Black Rider?" Boromir looked grim. "Aragorn, if the Nine now ride the skies 
there is nothing to prevent them from crossing the River anywhere, at anytime. 
We cannot delay in carrying a warning to Rohan, to Gondor." He grew insistent. 
"Aragorn, we cannot delay! There can be no further thought of crossing to the 
eastern shore. It was unwise before, now even less so."

"That choice is still Frodo's, Boromir."

"Frodo, we must stay on the western shore, we must! How can you even 
consider-----" Boromir stopped. "Are you injured?"

Aragorn suddenly realized Frodo was still leaning against Sam, sitting weakly in 
the bottom of the boat. "Frodo, let me see where that arrow hit you. Mithril or 
no, I'm sure that hurt quite a bit."

"I am all right."

Sam looked confused. "Mr. Frodo, Strider just wants to----"

"No, Sam." Frodo's lips were set in a hard line, and he looked grimly out over 
the water.

Aragorn glanced at Sam, then back at Frodo. "I thought I knew you pretty well, 
Frodo, but I think this is the first time I've seen you angry." He waited, not 
pressing the hobbit further.

Frodo just looked at him, then sighed. "Gandalf said Elrond cured me."

Aragorn looked puzzled. "Go on."

"It was in Rivendell after, after I woke up. I believed him." Frodo looked away 
again, but now his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"Frodo," Aragorn said softly, "I have never seen anyone come closer to death and 
live. I hope never to see such a thing again. If you do not know, ask Sam 
sometime what those days in Rivendell were like for him, for all of us." Frodo 
heard Sam catch his breath and felt his arms tighten about him. He swallowed 
hard and took Sam's hand. "Do not ever doubt that Elrond cured you, Frodo," 
Aragorn continued. "No one else could have."

"But----" Frodo started to speak but Aragorn interrupted.

"Elrond cured you, or you would even now walk in the shadow world forever lost 
to us. But once touched by a weapon of the Enemy.." He sighed. "Frodo, you are 
the first mortal ever to come through that and live. No one, not even Gandalf, 
could know everything that might happen. Gandalf used to say that even the wise 
could not see all ends. He did not intentionally deceive you, Frodo, there was 
just no precedent."

Aragorn reached out his hand and gently touched Frodo's right shoulder. "Your 
body responds to the presence of the Nazgűl. Perhaps you can look on it as 
another sense, like sight or sound. If you can bear it, you may find it useful. 
You are one of the strongest people I've ever known, Frodo. You'll find the 
strength to handle this." He smiled at Sam. "Strength is all around you." He 
looked up. "Son of Gloín, perhaps you would be kind enough to share some of that 
waybread you are consuming?"

Gimli grinned and handed out some of the lembas. As Aragorn had hoped, it helped 
distract the hobbits somewhat from the horror of the Orcs and the presence of a 
wraith so near. From the way Frodo kept glancing back across the River, the 
Ranger knew the wraith was still there, now lacking the means to reach them. 
They should be safe until morning at least, as safe as it was possible to be in 
such a situation.

The Company paddled slowly and quietly back upriver, soon finding a shallow bay 
where they stopped. They spent the night huddled in the boats, concealed by a 
thickening fog, for a long time too tense to even relax to any extent. Sam saw a 
black arrow embedded in Boromir's boat, and discovered that Pippin's yell had 
come when he saw the arrow miss Merry's hand by less than an inch. Merry still 
seemed a bit shaken.

Frodo finally felt the icy, numbing sense of the Nazgűl fade entirely. "I'm 
sorry, Aragorn, I didn't mean to be cross," he whispered.

"Frodo, if anyone deserves to be 'cross', it's you. Let me see if you're hurt. 
We have a long night ahead of us." Frodo nodded, and the Ranger took Sam's place 
beside him, sliding his hand up Frodo's back beneath the soft leather shirt next 
to the hobbit's skin. He would not permit Frodo to remove the mithril coat; the 
Enemy was too near. It was difficult to determine in such darkness, but it 
appeared to Aragorn that Frodo's shoulder was bruised and tender, but no worse. 
He asked Sam to keep a cold, wrung-out cloth pressed gently to the sore area, 
which helped ease the pain. As a damp fog closed in about them, they settled 
down to wait out the night.



Chapter 12 --- Cousins and Friends

Morning dawned thinly through the fog, which still drifted about the boats and 
obscured the eastern shore. Almost all had slept fitfully, in short spurts, 
huddling in the boats. Gimli and Legolas had insisted on keeping watch 
throughout the long night. Frodo had been unable to sleep at all.

"Legolas and I will seek out the ancient portage-way. Once we bring the boats 
and gear to it, it is a mile south, perhaps a bit more, until we may take to the 
River once more." Aragorn shot a concerned glance at Frodo, who still seemed to 
be in some pain and was looking weary from his sleepless night. The Ranger 
doubted Frodo would be able to carry anything, and he still wished Pippin would 
take it easy, but first the path needed to be found. They would decide later how 
everything could be accomplished.

"I do not wish us to split up," Aragorn continued, "But there is no choice. If 
we have not returned by tomorrow morning you must choose your course and leave 
here as best you can. Do not attempt the rapids, even in daylight. I assume our 
friend Gollum led the Orcs to us, so at least one person should stay on watch at 
all times. Hopefully this side of the River is still safe." He caught Frodo's 
eye and they looked at each other for a long moment, then Aragorn and Legolas 
walked away and disappeared into the fog.

Frodo stood up and stepped slowly onto the shore. He tried to hide the fact that 
his shoulder still felt somewhat stiff, but Sam and Merry were at his side in an 
instant.

"Frodo, you haven't had any sleep," said Merry, guiding him over to a dry patch 
of soft grass. "Rest while you can. You don't have to be so brave all the time 
you know, it's all right to say 'ouch' once in a while!"

Frodo laughed and let himself be lowered to the ground. Pippin promptly came 
over and sat next to him --- practically on top of him, actually.

"Your bruise is almost gone, Pip," Frodo said. "How are you feeling? You don't 
have to be so brave all the time either, you know."

"I don't feel brave at all, Frodo. I wish I was."

"Pippin," Frodo said softly, "You, Merry, and Sam are about the bravest hobbits 
who ever lived. Just think back to everything we've been through." He looked at 
Pippin closely, who seemed to be amazed by what he was saying. "Have I forgotten 
to tell you I'm so proud of you I could just burst? Oh Pip," he murmured, 
putting his arms around his cousin.

Pippin sighed and nestled into Frodo's arms. Merry thought he was growing up, 
and Frodo was proud of him.

"Mr. Frodo," Sam said, "What will we do if Strider and Legolas, well, don't come 
back?"

"I hope we don't have to find out," said Frodo with a frown. "We can't cross to 
the eastern shore, not yet anyway. We can't take the boats through the rapids, 
and we can't go back. But none of that matters. We couldn't abandon them, Sam. 
We'd have to follow them and try to find out what happened. Just leave the boats 
here, carry what we can, and find them."

"Frodo," said Merry, "We're a lot closer to Isengard now than we were before."

"We'd just have to be -----" Frodo suddenly smiled and looked down at Pippin, 
who had fallen asleep in his lap. "I wish I could do that," he said with a yawn. 
"I think Pip could sleep hanging upside down from a tree."

"He didn't answer your question, you know," said Merry. "About how he was 
feeling. He still has a little recovering to do." He looked at Frodo. "And so do 
you. Lie down and try to sleep. We may have a lot to do later."

"Yes sir," Frodo smiled. He lay down in the grass, taking Pippin with him, and 
managed to find a comfortable position. In a few minutes Merry and Sam were 
gratified to see that he had fallen fast asleep, Pippin still curled in his 
arms. Sam tucked a blanket around them both.

*****************

Pippin woke from a sweet dream to find himself under a blanket in Frodo's arms. 
He looked up.

"You had a good sleep," Frodo said with a smile. "You must have been dreaming of 
something nice."

"I was," Pippin yawned. "Something about a birthday party..."

Frodo laughed. "Are you trying to remind me that you turn 29 soon? I don't know 
where we'll be, Pip, but we'll figure out some way to celebrate. I liked being 
29," he mused, "Such fun, not a care in the world.."

"Frodo, do you think much about home?"

"I certainly do," Frodo said. "The thought of our beautiful Shire safe and 
sound.... sometimes that's *all* I think about."

"I wonder where they all think we've got to?"

"Well," Frodo thought about it. "Gandalf said at the Council that he found the 
Crickhollow house broken into and empty, so Fatty most likely escaped the 
wraiths. Word may have gotten back from Bree that we left there with a Ranger, 
but that's probably the last anyone heard of us. Elrond certainly wouldn't have 
risked sending a message back to the Shire about us." He sighed. "They all might 
think we're dead, Pip, killed by a Ranger or lost in the Wild. No one is likely 
to miss *me* I suppose, but your family, and Sam's, and Merry's must have sent 
out search parties and such." He pulled Pippin closer. "We'll just have to get 
back home safely and astound them all, won't we?"

"We will, I know we will."

Frodo sat up. "Of course, with Bag End sold and Crickhollow ransacked, I might 
have to come live with you. Think your sisters would mind?"

Pippin smiled. "I can't think of anything they'd like better, Frodo. You'll have 
to fight them off with Sting." He sat up also and looked around. It appeared to 
be around noon. Merry and Gimli were keeping watch and Boromir was stretched out 
nearby, asleep. Sam was standing near one of the boats, apparently having just 
filled Frodo's pack with something fairly bulky. He heard what they were talking 
about and came over to them.

"It's hardly the place for a Baggins, sir, but you'd be welcome at Number 3 
Bagshot Row." He grinned. "Of course you'd have to fight my sisters off with 
Sting as well!"

Frodo laughed delightedly. "I suspect I'm a bit old for any of them, but it's 
nice to know I won't be out in the cold!"

"Now that Frodo's living arrangements are taken care of, we shouldn't have any 
more worries on this journey!" Legolas appeared out of the fog behind them, 
chuckling as he walked past.

Frodo turned red, aiming a kick at Pippin who scuttled out of the way with ease. 
"You started it, Frodo!"

Aragorn came past, pleased to see that Pippin seemed back to his old self. He 
noted that Frodo slightly favored his left arm as he rose to his feet.

Waking Boromir, Aragorn spoke to the group. "We found the portage-way, it lies 
somewhat back from the River at this point. The terrain is rather rough before 
we can reach it and may make for a wearying day. It is then somewhat more than a 
mile south to where the rapids end and we can take to the boats once again."

As one, the Company unloaded the boats. Sam brought Frodo over to the pack he 
had filled for him. "Here, sir."

Frodo frowned at the bulky pack. "Sam, I don't think------" He lifted it and was 
surprised at how light it was. "Sam?"

"It's the lembas. Someone has to carry it after all, and I don't think you 
should manage anything heavy just yet." Sam looked around at the piles of gear. 
"We will need several trips, I would think.... You can carry the coils of that 
Elven rope next, if you like. They're wonderfully light." He looked at Frodo 
sternly, a half-dozen arguments ready on his tongue should there be any protest. 
To his surprise, Frodo just shook his head and smiled.

"Thank you, dear Sam," he said softly. "What would I ever do without you?"

Aragorn nodded approvingly at Sam, then turned to Frodo. "At least there won't 
be any danger of Pippin getting lost in the fog, I doubt he'll let that lembas 
out of his sight!"

******************

While everyone was busy sorting out the gear, Sam drew Merry apart from the 
others. They stood side by side at the River's edge, peering into the gloom.

"He'll need to decide soon. What do you think?"

"Boromir says it's impossible," said Merry quietly, "But Gandalf thought we 
could do it. I cannot imagine he would have sent Frodo off with the Ring if 
there was no hope at all. I don't know, Sam." He closed his eyes, remembering. 
"The maps with Mordor in them were pretty sparse. Maybe whoever made them didn't 
go too far in. I doubt anyone really knows exactly what's over there."

"There's wraiths over there," said Sam. "And that Gollum, and Orcs, and who 
knows what else. But he's likely to make a run for it anyway, try to go alone."

"I know. But he can't jump over the River. As long as he doesn't get his hands 
on one of the boats I don't think he can get away from us."

"The Ring, though.... He could put it on and disappear."

"He wouldn't do that."

"He's scared. Scared to go alone and scared to take any of us with him. He was 
so shaken up when Pippin was hurt, he can't bear to think of anything else 
happening to one of us. He'll want to go alone, just like back in the Shire." 
Sam sighed. "I'm scared too."

"So am I."

"We can't let him see it," Sam said. He turned to look at Frodo.

"He won't," said Merry, his eyes resting on Pippin.


-----------------------------------------------------------
NOTE: There is no slash implied in this chapter.


Chapter 13 --- Isildur's Heir

It was an exhausting day for all save the sturdy Dwarf. The hobbits, toiling 
through brush and around and over rocks with their arms full of gear, marveled 
at the ease with which Gimli carried his boat the entire way with no assistance 
while burdened with quite a heavy pack. Legolas remarked to Pippin that he had 
never seen the Dwarf look so pleased with himself.

The terrain proved to be even rougher and more uneven than Aragorn had 
described. Finally after many hours and many trips, the boats and gear were 
carried to the southern landing where everyone collapsed with fatigue. Or almost 
eveyone.

Frodo sat down next to Gimli and noticed that the Dwarf was not even breathing 
hard. "That was an amazing display of strength, Gimli. Truly remarkable!"

Gimli's eyes gleamed. "Indeed, I have not had much opportunity to show my 
usefulness to you or this Company 'ere now. It was a small thing, but a 
satisfying one!"

"Not much opportunity.." Frodo frowned. "Gimli, do you truly believe that? You 
have been a tireless defender and a loyal friend. I cannot imagine this Company 
without you. But more than that... I suppose I never told you..."

The Dwarf looked at him, puzzled.

Frodo looked down at the ground, embarrassed. "This journey has been so long, so 
difficult and frightening. Not at all like I imagined it would be. I grew up 
listening to Bilbo's stories, you know. About the dragon and the Dwarves.... and 
coming back safe and sound.... He sighed. "After we left Rivendell, at night 
sometimes, when I needed to, I could close my eyes and pretend I was having an 
adventure just like Bilbo's. I even had two companions he had --- a wizard and a 
Dwarf. And when Gandalf fell.." Frodo looked at him. "I still had you."

Gimli was very moved. "Master Baggins, I too spent years hearing stories of the 
Grand Adventure from my father and every conceivable cousin!" He chuckled. "They 
never tired of the tale. We are in the same tale yet, you and I. I did not 
realize that my presence helped you to-------" He stopped, suddenly aware that 
everyone was listening to them. "In any event," he said gruffly, patting Frodo 
on the shoulder, "It is good that we have met thus." He abruptly rose and busied 
himself with sorting out some of the gear.

Frodo's eyes followed Gimli as he bustled about, then took in his companions, 
some sitting down, some standing and talking quietly. How dear they all were to 
him.

"We will stay here tonight, we all need rest," said Aragorn. "Tomorrow we should 
pass the Argonath and reach the falls of Rauros at last, where we will.. decide 
our further course." Frodo raised his eyes to meet his, then looked away. He 
didn't notice Boromir gazing at him, as if trying to read his heart and 
thoughts.

*****************

"What's the Argonath, Strider?" That evening Pippin sat comfortably against 
Gimli, who seemed not to mind in the least.

"They are the 'stones of the king,' Pippin, statues on each side of the River 
which denote the northern border of Gondor. Beyond them are a vast lake, then 
the mighty falls of Rauros. The statues are of my ancestors, Isildur and 
Anárion, carved more than a thousand years ago. Our noble Dwarf may find the 
ancient stonemasonry to his liking!"

"We shall see," Gimli smiled.

"Isildur and his brother Anárion were the founders of Gondor and gained great 
renown," Aragorn continued. "I have never seen the carvings, have you, Boromir?"

The Man shook his head. "I have not, I have heard of them only in tales. Like 
you, I will welcome the sight."

"Isildur," murmured Frodo. He suddenly shivered as if with chill.

"Yes, Frodo, the same," said Aragorn.

A bit later Aragorn said he would take the first watch, and Frodo quickly 
volunteered to join him. The camp slowly quieted as the Company tried to sleep.

"Aragorn," said Frodo quietly.

"Yes?"

"At the Council, when Gandalf told us about Isildur and the Ring...." he 
hesitated.

"What's troubling you, Frodo?"

"Why...." Frodo took a deep breath. "Why didn't you take it? You seem to have no 
interest in the Ring. It is yours by right, you could have taken it from me more 
times than I can count, yet you have not."

Startled, Aragorn was silent for a long time. "I do not truly know why the One 
Ring does not tempt me, Frodo. If I were its bearer it is possible that my 
strength and will would not be equal to what yours have been." The Ranger's 
voice grew quiet as he thought of many things. "You carry a heavy burden, and 
have embarked on a nearly impossible quest. I, too, have learned over many years 
to endure great burdens, to attempt the impossible. We are much alike, and our 
destinies seem joined." He shook his head. "It does not belong to me; it does 
not belong to anyone. You are the Bearer, and I pledged my life and death to you 
that night in Bree. That is all I know."

"I understand," Frodo whispered. He leaned against the Ranger and looked out 
over the water. The sound of the rapids, now upstream, seemed loud in his ears.

"It was a tiring day, Frodo. Why don't you try to get some sleep? I'm sure 
Legolas wouldn't mind trading watches with you."

"I will stay with you," Frodo said quietly.

Aragorn put his arm around him. "And I with you."

*****************

Despite the previous sleepless night, Frodo lay awake well after his watch 
ended, unable to stop his spinning thoughts. Aragorn advised leaving the River 
above Rauros, striking out either east and then south, through nearly impassible 
country until they reached the Black Gate; or west and then south, to Minas 
Tirith. The Nazgűl knew they were on the River, obviously they had to leave it 
soon.

Boromir is right, Frodo thought, remembering their conversation from days ago. 
We need supplies, we need rest. But Minas Tirith.. a city of Men, so many Men. 
Gandalf said Men were always corrupted by the Ring, I fear if we go there we may 
never leave. Yet the Men I have met have been so kind. Butterbur... Aragorn.. 
perhaps not Bill Ferny, Frodo thought with a smile. Aragorn seems to have no 
desire for the Ring. Boromir has not tried to take it. Perhaps I worry 
needlessly?

If I choose the eastern way will Gimli and Legolas go with us? I've never even 
asked them, yet I have no doubt they will see it though. I am honored to have 
such companions. Aragorn will come, although he longs to go to Minas Tirith with 
Boromir. I know it.

Merry, Pippin. Sam. I cannot bear to take them into further danger. I should go 
alone. No, that is folly. Surely I cannot do this alone. I do not know the way. 
I do not have the courage.

Oh Gandalf, how am I to decide this? You never told me, perhaps you didn't know. 
I always thought you knew everything.

What am I to do?

  
 
Chapter 14 --- Riddles in the Dark

Sam opened his eyes to a grey sky and chill in the air. The morning smelled of 
rain to come. He rolled over and automatically checked to see that Frodo, 
sleeping next to him, was all right, then got to his feet. Gimli had a fire 
going, and by the time everyone was awake Sam had breakfast ready.

Aragorn noticed Pippin scanning the skies uneasily, and he addressed the 
Company. "Pippin has the right idea, we need to stay alert. Most likely there 
was only one wraith about, or Frodo would have continued to sense them. I 
suspect we can risk one more day on the River."

Pippin looked at Frodo. "Can you really feel the wraiths when they're near?"

Frodo sighed. "Apparently so."

Pippin thought about that. "You're like Sting, then, aren't you? You can sense 
the wraiths and it can sense the Orcs." He grinned. "You're very useful, cousin 
Frodo!"

Frodo laughed and gave Pippin a hug. "The things you think about, Pip! But if 
you don't mind, I think I'd prefer being a little less useful in that way!"

The boats were loaded quickly then they set out. The current was swift, and the 
morning was uneventful save for a few hours of cold, uncomfortable rain. In the 
afternoon the sun broke though the clouds and the air warmed a bit.

Legolas had been looking for some time far ahead, and he gazed in wonder as two 
massive statues came into view. "Aragorn," Frodo whispered in awe. As the River 
narrowed to pass between the giant carvings, the current became swifter and the 
boats less easy to steer.

"Keep to the center!" Aragorn shouted, then, "Sam, this is one place you should 
definitely hold on." Sam needed no urging as the boats seemed to be fairly 
flying down the River.

"Which one is..... is......" Frodo could hardly speak.

"Isildur is to the right," Aragorn said quietly. "This is a sight I have long 
wished to see." He turned to look at Boromir sitting with his head bowed as the 
boats passed under the giant forms.

We must stop!" Gimli bellowed fiercely. "Aragorn, I would see this more closely! 
The number of craftsmen it must have taken to accomplish this....... to endure 
for more than a thousand years...... Aragorn!" But even as he spoke the current 
drove them even faster. There was no way to even slow down.

Pippin turned to look behind as they passed the Gates. Never had he imagined 
anything so massively high; not even Caradhras, which had seemed as high as the 
clouds, had evoked in him such awe, such utter amazement. He felt Merry's arm 
pull him close as they sat together and watched the sentinals of Gondor slowly 
diminish behind them.

I have returned at last, Boromir thought, this is the land over which my family 
is guardian. Gondor at last. So close now, so close. Yet to return home 
empty-handed after all these many months, with nothing...... nothing. Boromir 
grew increasingly grim, and without warning he was assailed with an idea so 
alien to him, so repugnant, that he felt fairly ill. Black thoughts...... if 
Frodo chooses not to come to Minas Tirith...... might he not be persuaded to 
exchange the Ring for something he values more? No, these thoughts cannot be 
mine. Yet how can Frodo not willingly trade something which has brought him such 
anguish in return for something he loves. Someone he loves. He looked down at 
the little one at his feet. Pippin perhaps......no, do not think it.....or 
Sam...... no, no......

Boromir closed his eyes and shook his head. What has come upon me? I do not 
recognize myself. He took a deep breath, then another.

The boats shot through the narrow pass into what appeared to be a huge, calm 
lake. Frodo sighed. "That was amazing. I------" The words died on his lips as he 
looked at Aragorn, who appeared to have undergone a transformation. So kingly he 
appeared, so confident and sparkling with life and nobility, it took Frodo's 
breath away. It was as if a disguise had fallen from the Ranger and revealed a 
hidden majesty.

"What's that?" Sam asked, pointing ahead. Far in the distance could be seen 
three peaks, one seemingly in the very center of the River itself.

"That is where we're going, Sam," said Aragorn. "Tol Brandir, with Amon Lhaw and 
Amon Hen on each side. By nightfall we should reach them; it is said that there 
is, or was, a fair place to camp on the western shore."

They let the current, still swift, carry them down the center of the lake as 
they ate and rested a little. After some hours the current slowed, and they took 
to their paddles, keeping as close to the western side of the River as possible.

Boromir pulled himself away from his darkening thoughts. "Pippin, is your 
headache returning?" he asked.

Pippin frowned. "No, why do you ask?"

"You have not uttered a word in so long, I could only assume you were feeling 
unwell!"

"It was that Argonath, those statues," said Pippin. "I've never felt so, 
well...... small."

"Ah yes. I too felt the eyes of the ancient ones upon me." He smiled at the 
hobbit. "Much craft remains in Gondor from ages past. I think you will find a 
great many things in Minas Tirith of interest."

"Perhaps when we return we can visit you, Boromir," said Merry. "I suppose Frodo 
will want to get on with things and get rid of the Ring, but once it's destroyed 
maybe we can come to Gondor and........."

Boromir was no longer listening, no longer smiling. "...get on with things and 
get rid of the Ring......" He shook his head as Merry's words rang in his ears 
and his thoughts spiraled downward once more. To get rid of it made no sense. To 
walk into Mordor with it made even less sense. Why had he even come? To what 
purpose, then, the voice in his dream, the long search for Imladris? Why had he 
been directed to search for the Sword That Was Broken, Isildur's Bane, the 
Halfling, if not to bring them to Minas Tirith? What use had any of it been?

****************

Just as the sun began to set Aragorn led them to a landing place along a wide, 
green lawn sheltered by trees. They could see trails leading off into the trees 
in many directions, one of them winding gently up a long, high slope. They made 
camp at the foot of the slope, the hobbits sighing with relief at the feel of 
cool, soft grass under their feet.

After the evening meal the Company sat about, talking quietly. Merry began to 
grow increasingly concerned about Frodo, who had sunk into a brooding silence. 
Something had to be done. He walked over to Aragorn and held a brief, whispered 
conversation with him. With a smile, the Ranger nodded to Merry and walked away 
from the group. After a few minutes he returned and sat back down.

"Say there, Pippin," Merry said, sitting down next to his cousin. "I have a 
riddle for you."

Pippin perked up immediately, a competitive gleam in his eye.

"And you two," said Merry sternly, pointing to Frodo and Sam, "Have to keep 
quiet. This is for Pip."

Frodo seemed suddenly more aware of where he was and what was going on. He and 
Sam exchanged an amused look, then nodded.

"How long do I get to solve it?" Pippin asked.

"I don't know," said Merry thoughtfully. "Frodo, how long did Gollum give Bilbo 
to solve all those riddles he asked him?"

Frodo laughed. "I haven't a clue. A couple of minutes maybe? Any longer than 
that and Gollum would have gotten impatient and eaten him."

Pippin looked a bit nervous at the thought, and couldn't help looking behind 
them into the darkness. Gollum wasn't just something out of a story anymore. He 
could be anywhere.

"Don't worry, Pip." Frodo patted his knee encouragingly. "He's not after *you*!"

"Ready?"

Pippin nodded.

"Okay." Merry took a deep breath.

Born among trees, cradled in leaves
Sheltered by unlikely pair
Smooth to touch, color fair
Travels far, staying still,
Strengthens limbs, strengthens will

Pippin stared at him, then closed his eyes to concentrate. Frodo had opened his 
mouth to say something when Merry wagged a finger at him. "Not a word out of 
you, Frodo Baggins."

Aragorn was grateful beyond words to Merry. Frodo had a decision to make in the 
morning that could affect the fate of Middle-earth itself. Even a few minutes of 
distraction from such a heavy burden was a true gift.

They all waited.

"Pip, if you're going to take this long, I don't think------"

"Lembas!" Pippin suddenly shoved Merry onto his back and sat on him in delight. 
"Lembas, Merry!"

All the hobbits were laughing when Aragorn walked over to Pippin with a smile 
and knelt down. "Very good, Pippin. You deserve a reward for that." With that, 
he handed him a wafer of lembas. Pippin gasped in amazement.

"And one for you, Merry," Aragorn said with an approving smile, handing Merry a 
leaf-wrapped wafer also. "Well done."

"Thank you," whispered Merry.

Legolas and Gimli had been exchanging puzzled looks. "Do you have any idea 
what's going on?" the Elf asked.

"As Master Baggins has said, 'not a clue'," Gimli replied, shaking his head, 
"Although Bilbo spoke of these 'riddles' at the Council. I suppose we are the 
'unlikely pair'?"

Legolas smiled, nodding his head in Frodo's direction. "It is good to hear 
laughter again, is it not?"

Gimli looked thoughtful. "Indeed, my friend, I had begun to hunger for the 
sound." He looked fondly at Sam and Frodo, deeply immersed in a lively 
conversation about riddles, then realized that Merry was sitting a bit apart, 
smiling at Frodo, not participating in the conversation. "He arranged this on 
purpose," Gimli said admiringly.

Legolas followed his gaze and nodded slowly. "I believe he did."

Pippin was beginning to nibble at a corner of the waybread, in preparation for 
devouring it fully, when he noticed that Merry hadn't touched his. "Aren't you 
going to eat it, Mer? You can give it to me, you know!"

Merry pulled him aside a little and looked at him seriously. "I've been thinking 
about tomorrow, Pip. We may be starting off east, you know."

Pippin nodded.

"Boromir says there's very little over there. Hardly any trees or water or 
animals. There may not be much of anything to hunt...... except for us." He 
managed a small smile. "Food may be awfully hard to come by after awhile. It was 
wonderful of Strider to give us these, but I think maybe........ maybe we should 
save them? Maybe we should really start thinking about what's ahead, and........ 
well........." He stopped, not wanting to scare Pippin too much. It was all 
becoming too real.

Pippin sat quietly for a few minutes, then slowly wrapped the wafer back in its 
mallorn leaf and slipped it into his pocket.

Merry did the same. "I know this is hard, Pip. Frodo's not the only one who's 
proud of you."

Pippin sighed. "Maybe we can eat them tomorrow?"

Merry gave him a hug. "Tomorrow, then."

  

Chapter 15 --- Not Alone

Frodo wasn't in his bedroll, and Sam sat up quickly, his heart in his throat. 
Had he left? Was he gone? Sam sighed with relief to see his friend standing 
alone at the River's edge, gazing into the early-morning mist. Everyone else was 
still asleep. Sam got up and walked to Frodo's side.

"Good morning, Mr. Frodo," he said quietly. He frowned at the sight of Frodo 
holding Sting in his right hand. "Is everything all right?"

"Morning, Sam. Everything's all right.. well, *now*, that is."

"What do you mean?"

Sting was glowing a bit a few hours ago. Orcs about, presumably."

Sam gasped and looked across the River, then behind them into the trees. "Which 
side?"

"I don't know. Aragorn thought it might be a few of them roaming on the eastern 
shore." Frodo fell silent again.

This was the morning Frodo had to choose, east or west. Sam wished he could take 
the burden off his friend, but no one could. He had to know.

"Frodo," he said softly. Frodo turned to face him. "Which side?"

Frodo closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered.

*****************

The Ring-bearer is setting out on the quest of Mount Doom. On him alone is any 
charge laid.. Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the 
nightfall.... Elrond's voice, so clear. What did Gandalf say about.....?

"Frodo?"

With a start, Frodo realized everyone was looking at him expectantly. Seated in 
a circle after their morning meal, the time had finally come.

Frodo looked at every face. His Fellowship. Had anyone ever had such friends, 
such protectors? He shook his head.

"I cannot choose yet. Let me be alone for an hour." He sighed. "I cannot 
remember the last time I was truly alone."

Sam and Merry exchanged worried glances, but Sam remembered what Merry had said 
the day before. As long as Frodo didn't get his hands on one of the boats, he 
couldn't take off east alone. And to head toward Minas Tirith made no sense at 
all, as far as Sam could see.

"Very well," Aragorn said. "Don't go far." He said nothing else, although he 
longed to beg, to plead. Please don't go far. Stay safe.

Sam noted that Frodo chose the path that climbed up the slope, and he saw that 
Boromir was also following Frodo's departure with his eyes. Everyone else looked 
down, or away, respectful of Frodo's need to be alone. Even Pippin suddenly 
found a corner of his cloak suddenly fascinating to examine.

After some time, Pippin sighed, still looking down. "Boromir, is Mordor truly as 
awful as you say?"

"I trust the tales I have heard, little one."

"Oh."

No one said anything else for a long time, each person heavy with his own 
thoughts.

*******************

Sam was getting uneasy. "Strider," he said, "With respect, sir, Mr. Frodo's been 
gone a bit longer than an hour, I would say."

"I agree, Sam. We must call for him." Everyone sprang to their feet, eager to be 
the one to find Frodo. "Wait-----!"

With no further thought, Sam immediately dashed up the slope in the direction 
Frodo had gone. Boromir ran after him, then overtook the hobbit and raced on, 
his thoughts confused and spinning. After a long climb he reached a level spot 
quite high up on the hill, and spotted Frodo across a clearing walking aimlessly 
among broken statuary. Frodo looked up, startled, as the Man came into view. 
Boromir stopped, looking at him. Looking past him. The hill commanded a clear 
view toward the southwest, the wooded, broken landscape between this place and 
home. Home, Boromir thought. The Ring, I have to----

Just then Sam came to the top of the hill, panting for breath. The thoughts of 
the previous night descended upon Boromir's mind like a black cloud. Surely 
Frodo will trade the Ring for something.... for someone... With no clear thought 
of what he was doing, or why, Boromir grabbed the hobbit as he raced past, 
pulling him tightly against him. Before either Sam or Frodo knew what was 
happening, Boromir had pulled Sam's sword from its sheath and was holding it 
against Sam's throat.

"Put your sword on the ground, Frodo," Boromir rasped in a strange, tight voice. 
"Do it NOW." His left arm was wrapped tightly around Sam's chest and arms, and 
he could feel Sam's wildly beating heart. He held the small sword steady at the 
hobbit's throat.

In shock at the sight before him, Frodo reached down with shaking hands and 
pulled Sting from its sheath. Slowly he bent down, placed it on the grass, and 
stood up again.

Boromir nodded his head at the broken stump of a pillar several yards away. 
"Take out the Ring. Put it on that stone and back away." He felt Sam catch his 
breath in shock.

"Mr. Frodo, no!" Sam cried. "Run sir!" Frodo stood still, unable to move. How 
could this be happening?

Finally he stirred. "Boromir," he whispered, "What are you doing?" He took a 
step forward. "You know this is wrong. Let Sam go." He took another step. "Don't 
listen to the Ring, Boromir, you know this is wrong. You *know* this is wrong! 
Boromir, don't listen!"

"Don't make me hurt him, Frodo," Boromir said grimly. Frodo halted, his thoughts 
spinning.

"Frodo," Sam whispered, "Please run!"

This wasn't Boromir. It couldn't be. In all his nightmares about the Ring and 
its fate, Frodo had never imagined anything like this. He was neither warrior 
nor wizard, but a sheltered, weary hobbit trying to do what the Wise believed he 
alone could do. How could he make such a choice as this? He only knew that if 
Boromir harmed Sam, his Sam, two good people would be lost. Not Sam, no, please 
no. If he handed over the One Ring to a Man crazed with greed and desperation, 
all of Middle-earth could be lost. He couldn't give Boromir the Ring. He 
couldn't lose Sam. He couldn't choose.

Against his will his hand inched up toward the Ring, Boromir watching him, 
breathing heavily. The Ring wanted to go with Boromir, Frodo could feel it. It 
would destroy the Man and the Dark Lord would enslave him. The Shadow spreading, 
devouring.. Sobbing, his eyes never leaving Sam's, Frodo forced his hand away 
from the Ring, into a deep pocket, fingers curling around the Phial of 
Galadriel. "A light to you in dark places," She had said. This is darkness, 
Frodo thought desperately. Help me.

Suddenly Boromir looked past him and gasped. Sam, too, went rigid, his eyes 
wide. Frodo turned around and saw Sting glowing faintly blue. Even as they 
looked, the sword grew a bit brighter. Frodo looked around them wildly, and with 
a cry Boromir released Sam, thrust the small sword into Sam's hand, and pulled 
out his own.

Boromir stared aghast at Frodo, then at Sam. "What have I done?" he whispered. 
He felt to be waking from a nightmare. "Sam, I would never... I could never 
have..." Whirling about and looking back down the hill they had climbed, he 
could just make out Merry and Pippin barely visible through the trees, still 
searching for Frodo, unaware of any danger. He turned for one last, desperate 
look at Frodo and Sam. Sting grew brighter. "Run," he urged hoarsely. With that, 
he raced down the hill, all thought of the Ring forgotten in his need to warn 
his little ones.

Frodo raced to where Sam had fallen shakily to the ground. Frodo sank to his 
knees and flung his arms about his friend for a long moment, both clinging 
tightly to the other.

"Sam, oh Sam," Frodo whispered, tears still streaming down his face.

"I'm all right," Sam said shakily.

The Ring, Frodo thought wildly, it was the Ring. Who would it seize next? There 
was no other choice. He threw himself to his feet, breathing heavily, as all 
indecision left him. "I have to go!" he said.

Sam looked at him and stood up. "Not alone, sir," he said steadily. "Not without 
your Sam."

Frodo shook his head, backing away. "You don't understand. I have to go alone. 
It's certain death, you can't come. You can't!"

To his horror, Sam saw Frodo reaching for the Ring. With a cry, he flung himself 
forward, toppling Frodo to the ground. Sam grasped both his friend's hands and 
held them tightly between his own, Frodo staring up at him in shock.

"Mr. Frodo, I'm coming with you. You'll not go alone and that's that. Now let's 
get away from this place before we're found here." Slowly he released Frodo's 
hands and rose to his feet, then held his hand out. In a daze, Frodo grasped his 
friend's hand and stood up.

"Sam," Frodo whispered. Slowly he took a deep breath and nodded, suddenly 
relieved beyond measure. "All right, it's plain we were meant to go together." 
The shadow of a smile touched his lips. "Come, then."

Stopping only to retrieve Sting, with one last look about them they raced down 
the hill choosing a different direction than Boromir had gone, flitting as 
silently as only hobbits could through the trees toward the River. Toward 
Mordor.

** END **