A/N: Sorry for the long wait and short chapter. I hate writing about Lizzie; therefore, I only wrote like two paragraphs about her. Enjoy. Oh, and does anyone want to hazard a guess who the Silver Stag is? Cookie to whoever guesses correctly!
One foot at a time.
That's all that she concentrated on. One foot in front of the other.
They had been running for two days and two nights. Amy had point-blank collapsed twice, her headache swallowing her exhaustion, and Sam had to stop marching, go back, and soothe Amy's fever-savaged body. Everything ached, a dull, steady throb like the beat of her heart. Blisters had melded together on the bottoms of her feet, gathering into one huge infected heel that was cutting through her like a bear trap. Several times she had been tempted to just throw herself on the ground and refuse to move any farther. Her lungs were filled with liquid fire, scalding the interior of her throat. Her brown hair, usually messy and shaggy, was a briar's nest with tangles the size of her fist matted at her scalp. Sweat slicked her body, and her mind was functioning at the speed of a dead hamster on a hamster wheel. She stopped again, dropping her hands to her knees as she struggled for breath. Amy was behind her, slowed to practically a crawl as she dragged herself up the hill. The country was filled with rippling little swells that were too small to be mountains but too large to be hills. Everything had swollen together into one big hill in Amy's mind. The two girls exchanged glances, Amy's feverish eyes almost closed, red face blotchy with exhaustion. Sam summoned up the last remains of her saliva and called out. "Hey!" she shouted hoarsely, her voice rasping like the tongue of a cat. "Hey, Aragorn!"
The ranger halted, swinging around, and loped easily back to the girls. He looked just as tired, but more put together than the shredded girls. He looked at Amy with concern. "Is there something wrong, Lady Samantha?" he asked, panting. Legolas, hearing him, came darting back over the plains with the grace of a young deer. He pounced over a boulder and landed by Aragorn, blue eyes cerulean with concern. Gimli plodded along, determined to catch up to the group.
Sam gestured angrily at Amy. "She can't go on. I can't go on. We're bushed, Aragorn. You guys might have all the energy in the world, but we can't keep running like this. Where are we, anyway?" Sam asked hoarsely, struggling to keep Amy upright. The redhead pressed her knuckles to her eyes, fighting gamely to stay awake. Her bloodied head was pounding, and her vision was foggy. Distantly, she heard Sam and Aragorn carrying on a conversation, but thought nothing of it.
"We are abutting the plains of Rohan, Lady Samantha. We will stop for a brief moment. Legolas, do we have any rations left?" he asked. The blonde elf rummaged in his pack for a moment and withdrew a leaf-wrapped piece of lembas bread. Aragorn snapped it into five pieces. "'Twill not help your hunger much, but it will keep you alive," Aragorn said. Amy took her piece of lembas with a sluggish, underwater kind of quality. Her numb fingers didn't feel the bread in her hands. Sam bolted hers down in a single chew, then helped Amy swallow her dry, sweet bread. The girls leaned on each other, still panting. A waterskin, only half full of water, was passed around. Amy felt the cool water soothe her ragged throat, and she licked her lips dryly, catching the last bit of moisture.
They paused, saying nothing for a good five minutes, and then wordlessly, Aragorn began to run. Legolas was right behind him, and Gimli got to his feet with a groan. The girls limped for a few yards, and then began to jog slowly. They still had a long ways to go.
Lizzie felt her teeth clicking together unpleasantly as the Uruk marched behind his comrades. Her hands had been bound around his neck with a piece of thick, ragged rope. She strained uncomfortably against the ropes. Being tied up had not been part of the plan, and being piggybacked on a big, sweaty, smelly monster hadn't either. She shifted, trying to fix her blonde hair without choking the Uruk. The Uruks communicated in a fashion of guttural grunts, with a few English words mixed in. They were positively enormous, big black bodies loping with inhuman, primal elegance. She locked her jaw, scowling. Her tongue had been bitten too many times, and her wrists were chafing too harshly. But anything beat walking. None of the Uruks had stopped or slowed in the slightest; if anything, their speed had increased. For food, rotten bread had been circulated as the Uruk-hai ran. Not a crumb had been given to Lizzie or the Hobbits, but Lizzie wouldn't have accepted it anyway. The bread was alive with maggots and weevils; the last thing Lizzie wanted to eat was something that disgusting.
But there is one good thing about being tied atop a huge, sweaty, slimy monster: it gives excellent time to think. Lizzie was not a dumb girl. Yes, perhaps she cared a little too much about the state of her dress, makeup, and other various accessories, but she had managed a four-point-oh in school. Considering she was taking courses such as "The History Of Fashion" and "Movie Critique", those aren't such splendid credentials, but Lizzie was crafty. Contrary to what Amy believed, they were not doomed. Lizzie had watched the movie a good deal more carefully than she had let on, seeing as practically every scene there had been a hot guy. The scenes between Saruman and Gandalf were a little fuzzy, but she had practically memorized every scene with Legolas, Aragorn, Eomer, or Haldir in it. So now Lizzie settled herself against the sweaty Uruk and began to think. To rule Middle Earth, she would need the Ring. And to get the Ring, she needed a plan. Amy and Sam were always getting in the way...A sly smile curled one side of her mouth, and she chuckled slightly. Had another person been listening, they would have said it was the evil laugh of every super villain.
Sam fell to her knees, plunging up two furrows of earth as her legs buckled beneath her. She couldn't move. Not another step. Her mind, soul, and body was entirely on fire. Her eyes were slitted with exhaustion, and there was a gauzy film of gray over everything. Then again, it could have been the approaching darkness, but she doubted it. Her vision was clouding because she needed to sleep, eat, and bathe. Never in her life had she run so far and so fast; everything was shutting down. Both chocolate brown eyes fluttered closed, and she slumped on all fours, swallowing deep, cooling breaths in her savaged lungs. There was a gentle mist falling lightly from the sky, dampening her cheeks and lashes, running chilly blankets of moisture against her burning skin. She looked up, seeing Amy flat on her back a few paces ahead of her.
And as she watched, something happened.
The beautiful, majestic silver stag was bounding behind them, tail flicking daintily in the rain. The huge glassy eyes pierced Sam to the bone, driving away the sizzling heat of her head and the raw chill of the rain. The stag slowed to a steady trot, leaping delicately from one dry tuft of grass to the next. It gave the appearance of a lady lifting her skirts to avoid getting wet. The buck drew up alongside Amy, lowering its white muzzle to huff a little warm breath on the unconscious redhead. Sam was so close to it she could see the little clouds of white air pluming from its nose. The stag nuzzled Amy's freckled cheeks a little, nibbling lightly on her fiery hair and small ears, and then trotted away. Amy's eyes didn't open, but Sam saw her chest rise and fall. Slowly, she pushed herself to her knees and got up. Her green eyes were open and alert, lashes wide as she began running again. Sam could see the new spring in her step, the new life in her pose as she ran after Legolas and Aragorn. Amy bore no signs of seeing the deer; but the stag looked after her with something akin to affection in those sharp dark eyes. And then those beautiful eyes, rimmed thickly with long black lashes, turned to Sam, who was still on all fours.
It picked its way over lazily, swishing its tufted tail as it skirted puddles. When it was no more than a foot away, it stopped. Chocolate eyes met deep black, the two of them melding and bonding as they looked at each other. There was a weightlessness, where not time or space existed in those eyes. Sam could have looked at them forever. And then, something like warm water trickled down her back, flowing softly into her arms and legs, soothing the weary muscles and tender feet. The blisters - which had been throbbing like hot coals - now cooled and became a long forgotten memory. A warm breath curved along her sweaty face, like a memory of a kiss.
Courage, little one.
Wordlessly, Sam began to run.