Aragorn…

Beaten, bleeding, but still alive…

Boromir…

Struck, but not fallen, crushed, but not defeated…

Gandalf…

His powers strained, but his resolve all that much stronger…

Legolas…

Eyes bright, body whole, and still fighting with a soul fervor.

Frodo…

His smile happy and laughing, his face light with hope…

Samwise…

Both hands full, a sword and a skillet, both wielded with deadly accuracy…

Merry…

His pipe lit, his eyes shining, and a song in his mouth…

Pippin…

Twirling his sword, proud of his Gondorian armor…

Gimli…

Stout, ready, and eyes flared, solidly prepared for a battle to the death…

"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

Instead of looking abashed, Pippin looked astonished. He looked down at his hands and clothes, stunned and bewildered. He looked at Gimli, who seemed equally surprised, "Gimli! Is this…?"

"Yes! Let us make it count!" The dwarf jumped towards the doors in a fiery rage, his eyes roaring with a fire that stunned the others. He slammed the doors shut, with Boromir's help.

"What has come over you, Gimli?" Gandalf demanded, "Your hair and face…"

"We run! Now!" The dwarf commanded them, "Hurry! Pippin! Get them moving! We cannot stay longer than possible, else the future come true!"

"The future? What are you ranting about?" Aragorn demanded.

But it was Legolas that made the first move, "Then let us run! This place is made by the dwarves, and if Gimli so advises it, then we shall follow his commands! Guide us, dwarf, and be quick!"

Gimli let out a loud 'ha HA!' and turned towards a huge gaping hole that opened in the back wall of the room. One by one, they all scrambled through, just as the sounds of orcish drums shook the doors to Balin's Tomb.

The door splintered slightly just as Boromir made it out of the room. From there, Gimli ran, followed closely by Pippin, who knew these memories well.

The Bridge of Khazhad Dum stood before them, still complete in this time. Gimli insisted on being the last one over, just as an enraged Balrog uttered its first heart-stopping roar.

"What—what was that!" Merry cried from the stairs that led up and out of the hellhole.

"Never you mind!" Gimli snapped, "Go! Just get out of Moria! This is no place for us anymore!"

Arrows shot through the air, black devilish shafts that showered down around them. One skimmed Frodo's leg, and Legolas had to dive to catch him, preventing him from falling into the ever-gaping wound in the earth.

Sunlight had never felt so good…

"We made it!" Pippin cried, leaping onto Gimli's back and wrapping his arms around his neck. He felt so young, though his hair was still the pure white of the future, "We did it, Gimli! We lived through that!"

"Ha, HA!"  Gimli exulted, spinning with the hobbit still on his back. His grin threatened to chase away the dreariest of days, and his eyes shone with a light so happy, "Could it be that we have changed history?"

"What are you two babbling about?" Aragorn looked at Gandalf, who was smirking, "Gandalf, what—"

"The orcs! They're coming into the light!" Legolas' voice cried in warning, and his bowstring sang as he cut down the approaching attackers. Aragorn's bow was soon put to use as well.

The orcs could not pass into the light, but their arrows reached far into the daylight. The Fellowship was soon pushed back, into the foothills of the Misty Mountains, but they escaped…

"We're alive, Gimli," Pippin said in astonishment, "Gandalf…he's alive…"

"Yes, young hobbit, perhaps the future we know will never come," The dwarf smiled in the purest happiness.

"Does this mean that we have to go through the Quest again?" The hobbit's face turned white and he had to sit down, "But—Fangorn Forest? The Ents? Minas Tirith? Do we have to do that all over again?"

"What are you two babbling about?" Merry interrupted.

"I missed you, Merry!" Pippin jumped onto his cousin and bear-hugged him.

"Whoa, Pippin! Calm down and tell us what happened to you two in there," Frodo looked at them with a bemused smile, "You—look differently, Pippin, your hair is white! Your face is all wrinkled…what happened?"

"You have no idea," The Took laughed, "At least we're all still alive!"

"I sense something terribly different about the two of you," Gandalf said quietly, as they kept walking, "Something has happened in your lives that would make you so desperate to change the course of history."

"You have no idea what we went through, Gandalf," Gimli grumbled, "And what we had to go through in order to receive a second chance."

"What's going on?" Samwise demanded, utterly and irrevocably lost and confused.

"There is great magic surrounding Gimli and Pippin, so much that, it makes me wonder if they somehow created such a spell that they returned from the future to this time," The old wizard leaned on his staff. He held a very disturbed expression on his face, "Something is coming…"

"What is that?" Merry cried as the ground began to quake, as if with footsteps.

"Balrog!" Pippin cried, grabbing Merry and Frodo's wrists, "Run!"

"Is it possible!" Gandalf ran with them, moving quickly and quietly through the forests that would eventually lead to a wide-open field. Lothlórien was so close…but if they could make it would depend on their fleetness…

"Run!" The old wizard stopped and turned, facing the approaching demon.

"No! Gandalf!" Gimli roared, "NOT THIS TIME!"

He ran back and grabbed the wizard's sleeve. Then he turned and ran, dragging Gandalf with him. The older man was strong, but the dwarf had determination on his side, and he managed to drag the wizard all the way to the borders of Lothlórien.

Pippin was laughing hysterically as the Balrog's footsteps faded into the distance, heading back to the Pit of Moria. Gimli could not help but grin at the wizard's flustered appearance.

"I could not let you fight him, Gandalf, for that is how you died long, long ago," Gimli tried to explain.

"Well, next time, tell me this before you decide to lead me through the forest like a disobedient child, hmm?" Gandalf dusted off his clothing.

"Where's Legolas?" Boromir spoke up suddenly, coming to the forefront of the conversation at hand. The entire Fellowship looked around in surprise and wonder, searching for the one missing member of their group.

Then everything began to shift and morph…

Gimli and Pippin stared at each other in horror as all that stood before their eyes disappeared, fading into a world of pure black terrors…the night of sadness, when Helm's Deep had nearly fallen to the Uruk-Hai invaders…

"What happened?" Pippin whispered.

"The three sacs of blood…" Gimli's eyes widened, "We are being taken to three different stages of the Old Quest. We were not to give the blood to the Crack of Doom. We are being sent back into time to collect it!"

"You mean…Legolas…?" Pippin sank to his knees behind the thick wall of stone, surrounded on each side by elven archers and warriors ready for battle, "When you saved Gandalf…the Powers of Doom took Legolas?"

"It is that which I fear," The dwarf crouched to one knee, and caught the hobbit's attention, "Now, shall we collect the evil blood?"

Pippin touched his sword, his face still pale and blank, "How will we know if we have succeeded? Did we not begin this Journey in order to save lives? Not to trade them? Why did anyone have to die?"

"At least he will not be forced to live two hundred twenty years in the depths of Mordor's dungeons…" Gimli's attempt at light-heartedness had failed miserably, "Tis a better death…"

"How do we know that?" Pippin whispered, his heart wrenched in pain.

"We would not have been sent back if not to do some good," The dwarf stood suddenly, his axe clenched tightly in his hands. He yelled to the orcs that stood so far below, "Ha! Your mothers wore burlap underwear and your nannies put a bag over your heads so the dog would play with you!"

Aragorn looked down at him, "Gimli, I do not think that they can respond—" He saw Pippin, white-haired and grinning, standing to the dwarf's side, "Pippin! How is it that you are here?"

"Aragorn, what is the problem? The orcs will attack very soon—" Boromir saw Pippin as well, "What in the world…where is Merry?"

"Oh, I think he's with Treebeard," Pippin said off-handedly, pulling himself up and onto the thick stone that separated him from a deadly drop. He hung there, his feet off the ground, "They'll be attacking Isengard about now."

"How many orcs do you think that we will have to kill in order to collect that special one?" Gimli grumbled as Pippin dropped down.

"I don't know," The hobbit shook his white head.

"I remember when we escaped from Moria, you spoke like this as well, then you both disappeared into thin air," Aragorn said quietly, "We find you again, here, at the worst of times."

"We know what happened to Legolas, we think," Pippin interjected, holding his hands up so he could continue, but he was interrupted anyway.

"Yes, we know as well!" Boromir snapped, "The Lórien elves found his blood on the ground. He had been killed by the blasted—"

The orcs attacked.

Pippin grimaced at the streams of profanities that poured from the dwarf's mouth. Long ago had Gimli himself taught him these battle-curses, and now that there were elves around to hear them and cringe…

He did not think it a good idea if he so followed the dwarf's example.