Author's Note: I really wanted this to be longer, but I have to get something out or I'm not going to be continuing (I have an idea of where I'm going though, so you don't have to worry about that). I just know that's the way I work. So I apologize for the extremely short length. If there are any aspiring betas (is that the right word?)out there looking for practice, I could use your help,but I'm also willing to take any sort of help from anybody. Sounds dangerous doesn't it? But I'll even accept flames because I probably deserve them, and at least they're a form of response.

P.S. If you want to know about my unlikelyhood ofconsistantly updating without many consistant reviews, read my author's profile.

Disclaimer: Even if I did own the Lord of the Rings, I think I'd have to say I didn't. And I don't really.I do however, own the rules of the universe I'm creating. If anyone thinks from the way the story is going that it can be fit into Tolkien's universe, I would be happy to hear from you, but it will not be anything that a purist would want to read. I think. I'm not one so I don't actually know, but I seriously doubt it. Anyway...

His breath came in great heaving sobs, so hard they hurt his chest and throat, but he none of it. He felt nothing beyond the burning of the hole where his heart used to be. The storm had long since started and through the darkness and the wind, he could no longer see his friend's body. The rain soaked his skin, his clothes, his hair, but it did not wash away the blood that stained the ground. Dark blood that still shone over the dark of the mud, distinguished by its sliver shimmer from the little light that made it through the storm. It was the only thing he could see, and he had not looked anywhere else since he had first seen it stain the ground. He was free, but he could not move.

Hundreds of years later, he found his breath had calmed. He was breathing normally, excepting the slight hitches that came less and less often.

And after another century, he pulled himself to his knees, but that merely reawakened his mind and he almost collapsed again. This time he caught himself on the trunk of the oak nearby. The taste of blood was strong, but now it was because he bit his tongue to keep his strength. He couldn't loose his focus again. He had to get his friend home. A goal. A goal to focus on, something to distract him from the truth of what he would do. He would take his friend home.

Using the tree as a lever, he propelled himself to his feet. Taking a deep breath, he took one step. And then another. And then he found himself at his friend's side and fell to his knees, unable to keep his feet. But he didn't allow himself to feel this time and managed to pull his friend's body into his arms without falling apart. Struggling to his feet under the weight of the body didn't register as difficult. He merely began his journey. One foot in front of the other, again and again.

Just for the record, I apologize to all those previous reviewers, and the ones who put this story on their favorites and story alerts. I'm so sorry.

But please review anyway. Com'on at the very least you can complain...Please?

I had many more clever things to say in the author's note, but I forgot them all. I apologize for that, too. Very careless of me.