"I would love some ale right about now..."

"Oh, don't torture yourself so!"

"No, scratch that. Two pints of ale...no three. Or maybe four. And fresh strawberries covered with cream..."

"Pippin, seriously seal your lips," Merry laughed, half amused, half agitated because his own weary stomach was craving the same things also and speaking about them aloud seemed to push his hunger to its peak.

"I can't help it, Merry," the youngest hobbit whined, lagging on behind the others. "I'm just so hungry."

"We can't stop to eat now," Sam said firmly. "Besides, you've already had breakfast...and don't mention second breakfast!" he swiftly added as he heard Pippin inhale, ready to speak. The young Took closed his mouth, glowering at the gardener.

The sky was still gloomy, a shadow that draped the rest of the world in a dim light. The four hobbits had tried to get a head start, still concerned that the uruk-hai would still be hot on their heels, and had been walking for over three hours now, even though the sun had not yet fully risen in the sky. They struggled to pick their way across the terrain, for it was rough and sloped awkwardly. Already that morning, Sam had slipped and fallen on his back, Merry had a nasty gash on the side of his foot from a jagged edge of stone and Pippin had fell straight onto his face, receiving a nasty graze on his chin. Frodo was the only one who had not yet had any accidents, and Merry and Pippin were distracting themselves by betting how much longer he could remain on his feet.

"We'll walk one more hour," Frodo rasped, his lungs feeling swollen in his chest as he panted, the air seeming sharp, stinging like salt against his inflamed organs. "No more, no less."

"Fair enough," Merry muttered to his young cousin. "Just long enough to see if I shall win the bet."

"No way, Merry," Pippin grinned, wiping away a humid layer of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "Frodo has the balance of a...erm...tell me, Sam, what is well balanced?"

"A hobbit diet," Sam replied shortly, blatant to the conversation between the two younger hobbits.

Pippin nodded at Merry. "Frodo has the balance of a hobbit diet," he finished. "I'll wager he won't fall once today."

"Okay, Pip. Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"You won't cry when you have to hand me your rations tonight."

The final hour of their morning's walk was unbearable for the four halflings of the Shire. Whilst travelling with the Fellowship, they had no real sense of fear. Of course they were wary of things that lurked in the shadows and of course they were always sure to be alert and prepared in case a fight took place but they always had the protection of much stronger companions. Legolas, the elf, with his swift bow. Gimli, the dwarf, with his heavy, mighty axe. Boromir, the man of Gondor, with his trusted shield that took the brunt of the enemy's attacks. Aragorn, heir of Isildur, with his noble blade. And Gandalf with his silent but powerful presence and wise. There, in their company, the four hobbits had felt safe, protected. But now they felt as if a veil had been torn off of them and they were now bare and naked to the enemy. At any given moment they would have to draw their blades and fight; none of them were truly skilled in using a sword...

When the final hour had passed, they finally sank down to the ground, their muscles pulsing under their skin, hearts sprinting without rest in their chests. Frodo's weariness was worse than any of the others, the burden around his neck growing increasingly heavier as if someone was hanging from the chain that bound the ring, dragging him down into a deep abyss. He gratefully accepted some water from Sam, draining it quickly but carefully, being considerate to the fact that they had to try to save as much as they could.

They were finally upon Emyn Muil, and the terrain was tough upon their hobbit feet that was raised upon much softer, tender ground that felt like walking on butter compared to the cold, tough stone. Their shins and toes were grazed and blackened with dirt; hands grimy and in much need of a cool wash. Sam kept one eye upon his master and the other on Pippin whom seemed too generous with the amount of lembas he was giving himself.

"Careful, Mr. Pippin," Sam warned firmly, watching as the youngest hobbit pressed his index finger and thumb against the piece, ready to tear off a rather large share. "Take a little less, there's a good fellow. Shan't hurt to have just a tiny bit less than that."

Pippin looked stung as he gazed at his piece. "But, Sam that will barely soothe my hunger! It won't even quiet it for another hour. Wouldn't even satisfy one of the geese back at the Shire."

Sam cocked his eyebrows up, in a mute firm manner that told Pippin that this wasn't a request; that he had to be satisfied with what was allowed. Pippin was reluctant but agreed; tearing off a much smaller share than Sam had suggested and shoved it into his mouth, handing the lembas to Merry. Smiling, Sam took a small bite of his own, glancing around at their surroundings.

"I wonder how long it shall take before we can actually see Mordor," he wondered aloud. "Or if we're even going in the right direction."

"Don't speak so darkly, Sam, it doesn't suit you," Merry said.

"I know...but I can't help it!" Sam looked truly uneasy now, as if he had been locking all of these worries in his head for a very long time, itching to get it all off of his chest. "What if...what if we're going the wrong way? What if we're not in the right place? What if we're found? Oh my...what if we're taken to...to..." his voice faltered and the others knew precisely whom he was talking about. Sauron himself. Frodo grasped the ring tightly in his hand.

"Now, stop it Samwise!" Merry raised his voice, noticing Pippin starting to tremble violently beside him. "That is enough negative thinking for one day. In fact, until this...thing is done, there will be no more negative thoughts. Understood? Now, we know what we came here to do and we knew what kind of peril would face us. But we all came here, the reason we are all here now, is because there is no one else. And we swore to see Frodo through this...see each other through this. I don't know about you but I don't intend to sit here fretting about the road ahead. If we do that, we won't get anywhere. Now, if you're finished, let's have one more draught of water and get going."

Sam blushed alarmingly red; a mixture of shame and embarrassment crossing over his round features. Merry felt all eyes upon him, even Frodo who had turned to listen to what the Brandybuck had to say, but not once did he meet their gazes. He continued to eat at his lembas bread and then held his last shred out to Pippin.

"We all know you'd be kicking yourself later over giving yourself such a tiny ration," Merry said softly.

Pippin gave a weak half smile and accepted the piece without saying a word, eating it slowly so to ease his hunger a little more. Then, brushing off his hands, Merry rose to his feet, collecting his pack and walked over to Sam, who was still staring into space, moisture shimmering in his eyes. Merry held out his hand to the gardener, grasping his attention. Sam looked up to meet the warm eyes of his companion. No words had to be shared. He took Merry's hand, rising to his feet, and smiled gratefully at him.

"Come on then, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, his voice warm and encouraging as ever before, even more so. "Let's get moving."

Their first spat forgotten, the four of them started moving again. It was another few hours before they decided to admit they were hopelessly lost. Even Merry looked concerned, despite what he had said earlier that day.

"Let's face it...we're lost," Frodo said, the first he'd spoken that day and his voice was cracked and hoarse.

"Perhaps your right, Frodo," Merry said thoughtfully. "But more often than not, the lost find a way out, even if they have to retrace their steps a thousand times over."

"But we don't have the time to retrace our steps a thousand times over," Frodo groaned, running a hand over his sore, tired eyes.

The four of them started when the sound of disturbed stones filled the still air. They all spun around at the same time, seeing a fine dust rising and a few small rocks tumbling down a slope. Pippin inhaled deeply, grimacing at the stench that had replaced the clean air he was so used to and fond of.

"That...smell..." he groaned, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve, breathing in deeply the familiar scent of home that felt like a comforting embrace.

"Oh dear, Pippin, I truly regret giving you the last of my lembas," Merry teased, pinching his nose.

"That revolting stink is not me, Merry!" Pippin stole a glare at his cousin.

"No...for once, I don't think it is Mr. Pippin," Sam murmured, also receiving a cold look from Pippin. "It's been following us around for days now. I just thought it was the smell of the place but now...I'm starting to believe that is not so."

"I don't think it's the place," Frodo agreed gently. "I think I know who it is..."

"Did you just say who, Mr. Frodo?" Sam said, startled.

"Yes," Frodo's voice was getting quieter by the moment, the others having to strain to understand what he was saying. "It is of great treachery but it means us no harm...for now. Let us keep walking and ponder over this when we settle for the night. Then I fear that is when this creature will show itself."

Sam, Merry and Pippin all exchanged anxious glances at one another, their eyes each reflecting the other's confusion and worry over Frodo's sanity as well as the words. Frodo started to walk once more, turning his back upon the slope in question, which acted as a veil for whatever it was that Frodo was referring. The other three continued to stare at it, even after Frodo had started to pick up speed. Sam was the first to turn to follow; Merry had to grasp Pippin's shoulder to get his attention, pulling him gently to turn him around to walk away.

Pippin felt a fear rouse in him that he hadn't felt for a while, a fear that had seemed to dim and was laid to rest for a while, and now it gripped him harder than ever. Even as he turned his back, he felt eyes upon him although he didn't dare turn back, terrified to imagine what kind of eyes would return his gaze. Instead, he trotted at Merry's side, refusing to be left at the back in case whatever creature was hiding there behind them decided to pounce.

"I still reckon you had some involvement in that smell, Pip," Merry whispered, in an attempt to ease his cousin's blatant nerves. Pippin smiled weakly and made haste.

Please review and let me know what you think. More action will be in the later chapters, I promise! They just have to get through the Emyn Muil first. I want to create a lighter air at first and then it becomes much more serious. Review, favourite and alert if you enjoyed ~ Doodle.

Throughout writing this I listened to this song on a loop. It's called 'Crawl' or 'Carry Me Through' by a band called Superchick. It inspired the title for the story. A video with the song along with a LOTR music video. Enjoy.

.com/watch?v=g5davV9IAGQ