Disclaimer: If I could write like Tolkien, I'd be rich. But I can't (though I try), and I'm not rich, so please don't sue me.
A/N: I hope everyone liked the last chapter! This one will be a little slower, but I think after this it gets very interesting, so I'm posting Chapter 2 with it. By the way, this is a completed work, so the more reviews and interest I get, the faster I will update. Please review if you read, even if you don't like it. I'd like to know what I may be doing wrong.
Chapter 1: Riders From the West
So it was that I came into the service of Lord Faramir, though it was not for the first time. I knew that it was a sore trial that was set before me – one does not walk into the shadow of Mordor for leisure – but nothing anyone could have said would have prepared me for what I was to face. Undoubtedly, it was for the better that no one said more of my mission beforehand; otherwise I would have been very loth to go, and if it had not been completed completed, all of Middle-earth would have been forever covered in utter shadow.
As it was, I set out ignorantly as I led the two Hobbits to a back gate on the Eastern side of the City; for Lord Faramir had made it clear that this was a secret mission. "Greetings young Hobbits. I am Tallah Underhill."
"Underhill!" I heard one of them exclaim. I could not tell which one; I was leading and could not turn about. "Why, that's what—" he stopped abruptly, as if he realized he was about to say something he aught not to say. I turned, but the other interjected before I could question.
"Do not question us concerning surnames. Let it suffice to say that I am Frodo of the Shire, and this is my companion, Samwise."
"The Shire!" I marveled. "It surprised me enough to learn that two Hobbits had reached the distant White City. Now I wonder more that they should be from the Shire rather than Bree. Not that Bree-Hobbits are much given to travels either, but they are more inclined to wander a little away form their homeland than Shire Hobbits."
"Now it is my turn to wonder," Frodo said, "that you should even know what a Hobbit is. Even some of the wise and most learned in lore do not know. More than that, you know also the ways of our people. Perchance have you ever ventured to the Shire?"
"Nay. But it makes for a long tale to tell how I know of Hobbits and their ways. I have not half the time now that I need to tell it." I drew a deep breath, for a moment lost in memory. "Come! The Gate of the City is near. Once we exit, our path leads us East and a little North. We will journey through the wooded region between here and Osgiliath, whose ruins we will avoid by coming to their Northern edge. Then we shall come to the crossroads and the edge of Gondor. Afterwards, we will reach the dreadful Minas Morgul, and from there, we will come to the Nameless Land." My eyes darkened and I squinted into the distance where the frowning wall of the Mountains of Shadow awaited us. Then I turned my mind to the road directly before me; I did not dread the simple journey to Osgiliath.
We went on in silence. Sam and Frodo spoke in hushed whispers behind me, successfully trying not to let me hear a word they said. I found it eerily quiet, and it seemed ominous, worse than any din. But after a few hours, Frodo approached me. "Do you hear that?"
I cocked my head to the side, listening. "No. But I have not the ears of a Hobbit. What is it?"
"I hear at least two riders approaching. I fear they might be some of the Nine. We ought to conceal ourselves, and if it turns out that they are not foes, then we will call to them."
"The Nine!" I exclaimed in a hushed whisper. I had never encountered any, but I had heard tales how they could merely scream and drive a stout-willed man mad.
We all scrambled to hide behind a group of shrubs that concealed us perfectly. Soon, we saw through the gaps that we dared to peek through not black steeds but two brown ones, and instead of ghostly riders, two mortal men. I breathed a sigh of relief. Soon, they rode up next to each other and started to consult.
"What do you see? I know they came this way, but I believe that they are some way ahead of us still. I have lost sight of them."
"I see nothing," answered the other. "I believe they are heading East and a little North. We had best keep looking, even if it leads to our death out here in the wilderness. For I know not what this mighty weapon it is of which the Lord Denethor speaks, but I know that he strongly fancies it. We have seen what he is capable of doing; and if we fail to bring it back, no doubt he will do all that he can with us."
I did not listen to much more. I did not care much to subject myself to the will of Denethor, be he Steward or no. But with that authority, the second rider was right in saying that he could grant both death and misery to those who did not obey his will. Obviously, one of these Hobbits carried something he greatly desired. What would he do if he learned that I was leading them on? I did not wish to be held accountable for going against his will once more; I had tried his will one too many times.
I tried to rise in order to talk to the riders, but I was held down by a Hobbit on either side. When I tried to call out, a firm hand clasped over my mouth. I watched the riders move off, East and slightly North. Once they were well out of sight and earshot, I was released, and the hand was removed from my mouth. I rose swiftly, indignant.
"Why did you not allow me to confer with them? It could be that Lord Faramir has repealed his decision for me to lead you to this vain journey to the East. Even if he has not, it is clear that it is the wish of Lord Denethor for us to turn back with this weapon that you carry, and he has say over his son Faramir."
"It is obvious that these riders are messengers sent to tell us to turn back," Frodo replied. "But if that is indeed the case, the one who sent them has erred. You are to know nothing of our Mission. Let it be enough to say that it is no weapon that I carry; it is not to be treated lightly. I must reach Orodruin which is called Mt. Doom or die trying. If I do not, all of Middle-earth will fall into an undying shadow, and not even the wise and foresighted will be able to see a ray of hope at the end."
"I am impressed with your level of courage, young Hobbit, and also with your skill of putting words into tales. But have you not been told that the borders of that Land are all but impassable? Do you not know that the Land itself is swarming with the Enemy's troops who hardly close an eye? Then there is The Eye, which is ever watchful. It sees all and never shuts."
"All of this I know. Yet, this task has been set before none other than me. If I do not find a way, I will not find a safe haven in any kingdom of Men or Elves or Halflings, and neither will there be a refuge for anyone. If I do succeed, the flames of that Lidless Eye will be quenched forever."
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo," Sam interjected. "But shouldn't we be moving off now? It's starting to get mighty dark, and that's not due to the hour of day, I fear. It can't be an hour before midday."
Frodo turned to me. "I am in haste. Already this land is darkening in the Enemy's shadow. Will you not lead on? For you cannot turn back. Your City shall be under siege shortly if it is not already. The sooner we turn East, the greater are the chances of the Sun shining upon Minas Tirith again."
His words had a great impact on me. I stepped back as if he had dealt a physical blow, and then I inhaled deeply. "I am sure that we are all going to our deaths. Yet what hope is there if I turn back to the West? Alas for Minas Tirith that I love – my City and the closest thing I ever had to a home." I thought about its white stones tall and proud, and its tiers fair to look upon, the white tree in the courtyard of stone, and the magnificent Tower of the Guard, all in all a splendid sight, the epitome of Gondor's glory. "Let us depart!" I cried at last, not wishing to think of the siege any longer.
We trekked on East and North, as we had been going before. This time, we saw no sign of Denethor's riders; the trail of Halflings is beyond all but the most skilled huntsmen to find, and far more difficult to follow.
