Author's Notes: Nope, I don't own anything. The story is completely AU and starts out movie-verse (solely due to the fact that I'm too lazy to look everything up in the books). Please submit a review. I'm open to plot suggestions and criticism.

Thank you for taking the time to check out my work. Without further ado, I present...

Mortal Treachery

Chapter One

Fire and Ice

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"Fly, you fools!" Gandalf's sharp hiss pierced the heavy silence. His piercing eyes were still locked on the remaining Companions. Eight horrified pairs of eyes watched as one by one, the Grey Wizard's fingers let go of the rock façade that he clung onto.

In a blink of an eye, Gandalf disappeared off the edge of the bridge, his body plunging into darkness.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Frodo cried, his voice unusually powerful for such a small body. The hobbit lunged forward. Impulsively, Boromir reached out and grabbed him around the waist before he could follow Gandalf into the fire.

"Gandalf!" Frodo's wrenching cries echoed off the Moria cave walls, growing dimmer and dimmer as he was carried out, followed by the three other hobbits, Gimli and Legolas.

Aragorn was not aware that he was the only person left. He was still physically rooted to the ground; his metallic eyes fixed on the spot where Gandalf had been hanging onto just a few seconds ago...

For the Ranger, time ceased to exist altogether. His thoughts were lost, his body frozen, his mind a whirlpool of confused feelings. As if in a trance, he could not think, speak or move.

A full minute passed...then another...

"Aragorn!" Boromir's distant shout snapped him back to reality. His mind still blank, he instinctively turned and ran, ducking as darting arrows shot by dangerously close over his head.

He's gone...Gandalf is gone...

Aragorn bit his lip hard, forcing himself to concentrate on sprinting up the stairs that would lead him out of Moria's gloom. He tongue tasted the copper tang of blood.

When he stepped outside, Aragorn had to allow his eyes to adjust to the light. He had not seen the sun in four days, and the harsh brightness stung his sensitive vision. Ignoring the tightness in his throat, he quickly scanned the area. They had crossed the Cahadras chain and were situated at the base of an enormous white-tipped mountain. Lorien was to the East. Checking the terrain they would cross, Aragorn grew slightly apprehensive. The land was flat and open. They could easily be seen from the mountains by any watchful foe.

But worse yet was the state of his remaining companions.

Merry, Pippin and Sam were all sobbing vehemently, tears staining their scruffy faces. Gimli was on a furious rant, Boromir trying in vain to calm the Dwarf down. Far away from the group, Legolas was looking out across the rocks, a slight breeze tossing his fine blonde hair in the air. Aragorn knew that he was uttering an Elvish prayer for Gandalf.

The Ranger himself felt numb. He did not experience any sadness or anger. Not yet. He took out his sword and began to wipe the grime off the blade.

"We should get going," he announced quietly after a few minutes. Nobody moved.

"Legolas, get them up," Aragorn said. The command came out harsher than he'd intended, but he needed to be obeyed under any circumstance, else the Fellowship would crumble like brittle leaves in autumn. He now carried the responsibility of everyone's safety, and being out in the open was not a wise place to rest.

Legolas turned slowly, his dark blue eyes awash with grief, and walked toward Merry and Pippin.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir protested angrily, glaring up at Aragorn.

"By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with Orcs," Aragorn insisted, returning Boromir's steely gaze evenly. "We must reach the woods of Lothlorien."

Boromir turned away, his eyes lowered.

"Come, Boromir. Legolas. Gimli, get them up." Aragorn said firmly. They began to gather their packs.

Aragorn went over to where Sam was quietly crying and gently lifted the tear-stained hobbit.

"On your feet, Sam," he said encouragingly. The hobbit looked up at the dark Ranger, his innocent eyes rimmed red. Aragorn could not bring himself to meet the hobbit's gaze back.

Suddenly, he realized that he had not seen the Ringbearer since Boromir had carried him out of Moria.

"Frodo?" he called, his head suddenly hot with panic. To his relief, Frodo was in sight. The hobbit stood fifty yards away, back to the Fellowship. His slight figure looked fragile and worn.

Aragorn grimaced. This hobbit did not belong here. He should never have left his home.

"Frodo!" Aragorn called again, hating to interrupt Frodo's lamenting. He could not even begin to imagine what the Halfling was feeling, but lingering with the enemy in their footsteps would do no good either. Frodo would have to accept Gandalf's leave, sooner or later.

Slowly, Frodo turned around. The hobbit's wide blue eyes were brimmed with tears. One slid slowly down his cheek.

Aragorn sighed, suddenly exhausted. Traveling on broken hearts would be no easy feat for the Fellowship tonight.

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The journey from Moria to Lothlorien was, indeed, a morose one. The Fellowship walked in single file, following Aragorn. He pushed them hard. They often went for five or six hours without a break. Aragorn knew the hobbits were exhausted, but they did not complain and he decided they would get their rest in the house of Galadriel. He just wanted to reach the forest as soon as possible. Being out in the open made him increasingly uneasy every day.

Everybody's spirits rose when they saw the vast outline of a great forest ahead one evening.

"I do not want to sleep again under an empty sky. We can reach the forest before dusk. There we will make camp and rest," Aragorn told the group. He saw Sam sigh in relief and give an encouraging smile to Frodo.

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"I'm going to scout this area," Boromir announced after they stopped and chose a clearing for camp that night. Aragorn was almost certain there was no immediate danger - they were well nestled in the forest. But he did not protest to Boromir leaving.

"What would my ol' Gaffer give to see trees this big!" Sam said to Merry in awe as they set down their packs and admired the surrounding woods. Indeed, the great elms and oaks stretched their leafy fingers high into the night sky.

"What's for dinner?" Gimli asked, patting his growing stomach.

"I'm afraid we haven't got much," Sam said regretfully, looking disdainfully into his pack. "Just the usual. Beans and some old strips of meat." The hobbits began to bring out and set the food on blankets. Gimli grimaced.

"You can help out, Master Dwarf," Aragorn said pointedly. "Please go and find firewood. But do not use your axe on any of these trees. There are plenty of branches on the ground."

Grumbling good-naturedly, the stout dwarf disappeared into the forest. Aragorn commenced to do the same.

"Where are you headed to?" Legolas asked, seeing him. His lilting Elven voice stopped Aragorn on his tracks. He turned around. The Elf was studying him, a bemused expression on his face.

"I was going to try to find some fresh meat," Aragorn said quietly so that only the two of them could hear. "I thought it would be a welcome surprise for the hobbits."

A flicker of a smile settled on Legolas' lips.

"I will come with you, then," he said.

The Man and Elf treaded through the grassy understudy of Lorien in silence. At one point, Aragorn spotted a lone stag grazing, but decided against killing such a large creature for one night of meat. Legolas noticed this.

"Most would not have hesitated to bring down such an easy target," he remarked coolly as they rounded a bend on a dirt path.

Aragorn shrugged slightly. "Life is too precious to be wasted."

Ten minutes later, they spotted a family of grey hares nestled under a thick bush.

The Elf and Man crouched down behind a nearby hedge. Legolas silently removed an arrow from his quiver and motioned for Aragorn to do the same. The Ranger immediately understood. As soon as one arrow was released, the rest of the quarry would flee. It would be better to shoot simultaneously and bring two down.

The plan went through smoothly. As the arrows sailed, half a dozen grey blurs disappeared in every direction. Two shapeless grey mounds remained, unmoving. Legolas went and collected them. Both hares had been hit in the hide, dying instantly. Perfect marksmanship. He pulled the blood-tipped arrows out of the soft silver fur. Returning to Aragorn, he handed the hares to the Ranger with an embarrassed smile.

"Would you prepare them? I have never felt comfortable doing it," he admitted.

Aragorn looked up, surprised, but seeing how Legolas' eyes avoided the dead rabbits, he nodded. Though Elves were ferocious fighters and skilled hunters, they generally despised death. It was understandable, as they themselves did not suffer from it.

They found a small gurgling stream nearby. The two friends knelt side by side. As Aragorn skinned and cleaned the rabbits, Legolas filled their canteens with cool clean water and rinsed the arrowheads clean.

"How are you faring?" the Man asked nonchalantly, skillfully using his dagger to scrape off the first hare's skin.

"Considerably well," Legolas replied. "Under these circumstances, at least. I am much relieved to not be resting under an open sky this evening."

"As am I," Aragorn agreed. A comfortable silence settled between the two friends for a few seconds. Then Legolas spoke again.

"I have been curious, Estel. You have been acting strange. Why does your face show so little grief? Why do you not openly mourn for Mithrandir? I know you had a great friendship with him."

Aragorn paused before replying, thinking hard. But he found no answer to Legolas' question and truthfully told him.

"Yes, he was my mentor for many years. As for your other question, I honestly do not know, Legolas. I have not yet accepted his passing. My heart is stubborn. I keep thinking that he will somehow return. It is folly, I know." He shook his head and returned to his work.

"It is never folly to hope," Legolas replied quietly.

"We saw him fall, Legolas. There is no hope left." Aragorn closed his eyes, grief suddenly choking his throat.

"You can never be certain with a Wizard, Estel. They always have a few more surprises in store for us. I, too, believe we may see Gandalf again before the end of days," he heard the Elf say.

Aragorn said nothing, but prayed silently that Legolas was right.

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On their way back, Aragorn found a small wild boar snuffling around some wildflowers. After skewering the beast quickly, they returned to camp. Everybody's mood increased at the sight of fresh meat. Sam was especially excited.

"Look, look what Strider and Legolas has brought back! Bless their hearts, now all these pots and pans I lugged won't go to waste. Pippin, help me start a fire, quick," Sam eagerly began to bustle around, rummaging in his pack for herbs.

Aragorn took the time to sit down and rest his weary body. Leaning against a mossy tree trunk, he closed his eyes and inhaled the cool fresh air, savoring the moment.

"You must feel right at home in this forest," Frodo's voice said quietly. Aragorn opened his eyes. The hobbit had moved next to him and was looking up at him with an expression of admiration in his dazzlingly blue eyes.

"Yes, I suppose I do," Aragorn answered. Frodo thought hard, his brow furrowed.

"But don't you wish you had a real home? Under a safe roof, with friends and family whom you love? Don't you get lonely?"

Aragorn smiled. "I do have a real home, little one. I grew up in Rivendell with Elrond."

"But you are not their kind. You are friends with Bilbo and Gandalf, but they are not humans either. Where are your mother and your father?" Frodo asked curiously. "Why do you not live with them?"

"Because I am like you, Frodo. My father was killed when I was two years of age. My mother brought me to Rivendell, yet she lived in grief ever after and passed away alone. I have no other kin."

Frodo was silent. He thought of his Uncle Bilbo, whom he loved and adored dearly. He thought of his numerous cousins, of Merry and Pippin. He thought of Bag End and the green rolling hills of the Shire. He thought of blueberry cake and quiet nights in bed reading with Bilbo. The hobbit realized that Aragorn had none of it.

"But there must be somebody you love!" Frodo insisted. "Have you have a lover, then?"

Frodo saw a flicker of sorrow pass in Aragorn's eyes and immediately regretted his question.

"Yes, but I fear she will go away to the Havens," Aragorn replied, his eyes downcast.

"She is an Elf, then," Frodo said.

"Yes. The very Elf who brought you from Weathertop to Rivendell. Lady Arwen is her name. She is a daughter of Elrond."

"Oh!" Frodo exclaimed. "I cannot remember much about her, save her voice. She spoke in Elvish, and I heard the sound of soft chimes in a summer breeze. Is she as lovely as her voice?"

Aragorn nodded. "She is as beautiful as the brightest star in the night."

"Did she give you that jewel as a gift?" the hobbit questioned, admiring the cool silver of the Evenstar pendant. "It is very beautiful. She must love you dearly. I think she will make a fine Queen."

Aragorn blinked, disbelieving his ears.

"A fine what?"

"Queen. When the Ring is destroyed and you become King of Gondor and take her as your wife," Frodo explained. "In the future. All that will come to pass, won't it, Strider?"

The Man exhaled and closed his eyes, searching deep inside himself for an answer.

All the fate of the world rests upon your frail shoulders, little one.

"Yes," Aragorn finally said. "It will."

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