Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction, and written only for entertainment purposes. The characters belong to their respective creators: J.R.R. Tolkien, his estate, and possibly New Line Cinema; and Paramount Pictures and their writers.

Author's notes: First of all, thank you, dear reviewers, for all of the encouraging comments!

Chapter 4: The Council

Captain Jonathan Archer picked up one of the small swords that lay on the table in the conference room, where he awaited the arrival of the stowaways. He held the sword up in the bright light of the cabin; the hilt, decorated with serpentine figures, glittered with golden fire and the small red jewels set into the sword gleamed like rubies.

"It's a real piece of work," commented Trip, standing next to him. "And sharp, too." At Archer's questioning glance, he grinned at his best friend and captain. "I had to check them to be sure. These are authentic, not toys."

"So do you still think they're children?" asked Archer, carefully placing the sword back in its black sheath.

"No, not really. What kind of parents give their kids weapons like these?" Trip reached out a hand to run along the fine workmanship of the other sword. "Then again, they could be from a warlike people, I suppose, like the Klingons. I can't help but think they have something to do with the Xindi. I know T'Pol disagrees, but their appearance so soon after we went through the subspace corridor just can't be some kind of coincidence. Maybe they'll be more cooperative today, and we can get some answers. "

"Well, they've already tried to escape once today," said Archer, seating himself at one of the six chairs surrounding the table, "So I don't know if I'd bet on that." Scattered on the table were the items carried by the strange stowaways: The swords, two small staves, well-worn leather backpacks, and a strangely shaped bottle filled with a clear liquid. It was this item that concerned Archer most, for he had no idea if it was some type of dangerous chemical or drug, or perhaps some kind of weapon. It was set carefully on the table in front of him, cushioned by the folds of a small piece of clothing taken from one of the nearby backpacks. No one had been so careless yet as to touch it with bare hands, not knowing its purpose.

The door swished open and T'Pol entered, moving briskly to the chair to his left. Behind her came Hoshi, followed by two MACOs guiding the small humanoid creatures. The soldiers assisted the aliens into chairs opposite the captain and T'Pol, taking a few moments to adjust the seats to their smaller size, while Hoshi sat on their far left, next to the lighter-haired alien. Trip took the seat on Archer's right, quickly moving a backpack to block the swords from the creatures' view.

Archer first turned to Hoshi. "Can the translator handle their language?"

"Well, sir," she said, placing a PADD on the table in front of her. "It's far from perfect, and we don't have enough of a vocabulary of their language in the translator's database for any of us to be eloquent, but I think we'll be able to convey basic concepts to each other."

Archer nodded and settled himself in his chair, resting his hands in front of him, and regarded the two aliens sternly. "I am Captain Jonathan Archer, and my officers have told me that you've been stowing away on D Deck. Normally we welcome guests, but things have been a little tense around here lately. We'd like to know more about you, especially who you are and why you're here." No answer came, and he began to feel annoyed. From what he had been told so far, these two had already caused enough mischief on his ship. "I'm waiting."

Finally, the dark-haired one spoke, bowing slightly in his chair. "I am Frodo of Drogo, and this is Samwise of Hamfast. We came here mistake, and happy going, let you us, Captain Jonathan."

Well, it was not the best translation, but at least the alien seemed to be polite. Perhaps this could be settled faster than he had imagined, and they could soon be returned to their planet. There were still important questions that needed to be asked, however. "Are you working for the Xindi?"

"Who?" asked Frodo. He shook his head. "No time have I heard this word."

"It's not a word, they're a people," said Trip fiercely, leaning forward. "And you'd better be telling us the truth. Who knows how long you've been here? If you can disappear, you could've been hiding for weeks! How do we know you're not lying to us?"

"Hey! What saying are you to sir Frodo!" responded Samwise, clearly offended by Trip's tone. "What do we that is bad?"

"Well, you were sneaking around on D Deck, for starters," began Trip.

"Sneaking? D Deck?" repeated Samwise with a frown. "This I don't understand."

"I give you my saying," said Frodo to Archer seriously. "We have only now here come, now before us you found. And no time have I this Xindi before known."

"And how did you get here?" asked Archer calmly, laying a hand on Trip's arm and giving him an irritated glance. Getting angry now wouldn't give them any answers. It was difficult enough to make themselves understood with the rough translations.

"Oh, we-" the small creature paused, licking his lips nervously, every movement depicting uncertainty. "We went much. We – " At this point, the translation finally broke down into incomprehensible sounds, the translator unable to process what Frodo was saying. As the alien finished speaking he looked at Archer with pleading eyes, and the rough translation resumed. "I saying you, here will we not come, and will like too much to go, if you us let go, sir."

Abruptly Hoshi, who had been studying her PADD intently as Frodo spoke, looked up from it and tentatively asked him a question in the strange tongue. As far as Archer could tell, she seemed able to pronounce the words as easily as if she had already been studying them for hours. For all he knew, she probably had.

Frodo answered the linguist, nodding his head and repeating her words. "Mistake," he insisted again. "Mistake. If you us go let, will you us no time again see. We go."

"Hoshi?" asked Archer, uncertain of exactly what the alien was trying to convey, other than that he and his companion wanted off of Enterprise.

"Well sir, he says they found a magic door, that's how they got here."

"A magic door?"

"Well it might also be miraculous, or wondrous," she explained, finally looking up at the other officers in the room instead of her padd or the aliens. "Whenever they seem to encounter something with our technology, like the sink or when I tried to tell Samwise about the translator, they use this word. I think magic is an accurate translation."

"What do you suppose they mean by a magic door," asked Trip. "A transporter?"

"It would explain how they arrived here," stated T'Pol. "But a pre-industrial world should not possess such technology."

Archer leaned forward, his attention once more on the aliens in front of him. "What is the mistake he mentions? A mistake to come on board Enterprise?"

"I think he means they used the 'magic door' by mistake," said Hoshi. "But I could be wrong."

"A mistake?" Archer finally asked, willing to go along with the story, not really having any alternative. "And what planet are you from? What do you call yourselves?"

"Planet?" asked Samwise, as if the word made no sense to him, or had not been translated. "Sorry, Captain Jonathan, sir, what is planet?"

"Your world. What do you call where you come from? Your home?" Surely one of these words must have translated.

"Ah, home," said Frodo, finally understanding. "We –ah – we much went," he explained carefully, fiddling with a button on his jacket. It was clear to Archer that Frodo was not telling the truth about something; his very nervousness stated it was not something he was accustomed to doing. But without better communication it would be impossible to find out what.

"Frodo," said Archer, as gently as he could, not knowing why the creature was so nervous, and not wishing to alarm him further. "We know you didn't mean to come here, that it was a mistake. If you can tell us where your home is, we will bring you there." He wondered if his words had translated as both of the aliens frowned, so he clarified his words, using simple words. "We can go with you to your home."

"No!" cried Sam, clearly upset. "You can to Sûzat not go!"

"Sam, no!" said Frodo at the same time, looking at his friend with a fearful expression. Apparently, they must have agreed beforehand not to mention the name of their homeworld. He looked up, his eyes glancing apprehensively around the table at all of the individuals seated there. "You know this name, do you not?"

"No, I've never heard it before," answered Archer.

"No time?" The dark-haired alien seemed confused. "But, we know where we are."

Archer leaned back in his chair, regarding the frightened aliens in front of him. Frodo had his left hand on the table, clenched tightly into a fist. His other continued to fidget with the button on his jacket. Sam leaned away from Hoshi on the armrest of his chair, as close to Frodo as he could be while still sitting in a separate chair.

"And where do you think you are?"

Frodo glanced down at the table, either hesitant to answer the question, or giving it careful consideration. His right hand was clasped so tightly to the button he held that Archer was surprised it had not fallen off yet. Finally he looked up at Archer. "We are at Mordor," he said simply, yet with a look in his eyes betraying tension or even fear at admitting the name. Archer was temporarily at a loss for words. He felt, perhaps because the creature was of such small stature, a wish to protect him and reassure that there was nothing to fear here. But why did Frodo fear a place called Mordor?

"No, you're not," blurted Trip from beside Archer. "This is Enterprise," he explained, gesturing to indicate the whole ship. "She's a starship. A ship."

The aliens looked at him blankly, but Archer had not missed the look of shock on the aliens' faces when Trip dismissed Frodo's assumption that they were now in Mordor.

"What is ship?" asked Samwise.

"Um…it goes on water," began Trip uncertainly.

Hoshi came to his rescue. "Yes, a ship goes on water," she repeated. "When people go from this place to that place on water, they go with a ship." Her hands moved quickly above the table, accompanying her words, making motions depicting the movement of a boat on a water.

"A…ship," said Frodo, repeating the untranslated word. "Sam, like we had at Anduin. From Lothlórien." The other alien nodded in agreement at his explanation.

"You understand? Good," Hoshi encouraged. "But this ship, Enterprise, does not go on water. Enterprise goes through the stars."

The aliens stared at her. "Stars?" asked Sam, dumbfounded.

She nodded.

"Yes, that's right," added Archer, backing up his Ensign.

Trip turned to indicate the window behind him with a hand. "We're not lying. Those are the stars we're passing now."

At his statement, Frodo sat up in his seat with a jerk, as if he had all of a sudden remembered something, and stared up at Archer in amazement. "Eärendil can you not be," he said emphatically, looking at Archer almost in challenge. "You look not as Elrond."

"Who?" asked Archer in confusion. "No, I told you my name is Jonathan Archer. I've never heard of anyone named Eärendil or Elrond."

"So, this is ship, and you know not Mordor," began Sam slowly. "Then, know you not," he paused, frowning, as if he did not want to finish his sentence.

"Yes," inquired Hoshi with a smile. "Do we not know what?"

"Sauron?" Sam whispered, his expression worried.

"No, I've never heard of it," said Archer emphatically. He started to get the impression that these two really might be refugees, as Trip had suggested. They certainly sounded as if they were running from something or someone. Hopefully they were not some kind of criminals on their world. For the moment, there was no way to know and he still had other questions he needed to ask them, if the translator would cooperate. He reached out to take the mysterious glass bottle found among their possessions. His bare fingers brushed it accidentally and without pausing to consider his actions, he gripped it tight in his hand. The instant his hand enclosed the phial, he gasped, feeling an intense feeling of peace flood into him. For a moment, he wished he were a more religious man, for the sensation evoked such a burst of positive energy that it deserved nothing less than words of praise and reverence. How could he have possibly thought this a weapon? A great feeling of hope for the survival of his own people against the Xindi grew in his heart, and he felt the tension that had been building in him over the disappointments of the last week begin to ebb away. Archer realized that he had closed his eyes, and opened them to see a white light emanating from the phial, spreading out between his fingers. Hoshi and Trip were staring at it, enraptured, along with the two aliens, while T'Pol seemed to be struggling with herself, her own eyes shut. Tears slipped unheeded down Hoshi's face. "What is this thing?" he asked, placing it gently back on the table.

Frodo answered. "It is – " the fluid yet unrecognizable sounds of his own language interrupted his speech, too many unfamiliar words at once disrupting the translation. It commenced a moment later. "- a light if lights dark are. It was to me said, that it light from star Eärendil has." He paused to glance back at his companion, then regarded the Starfleet officers once more, smiling. "You have good to me said," he said, relief evident in his voice. "You cannot of Sauron be."

"Hoi," agreed Samwise. "This not for them." He turned to Hoshi. "I am sorry for you before." He indicated her head, where she had received a bruise from their escape intent, now gone after Doctor Phlox's ministrations. "You are – " the translation broke off abruptly once more, broken sporadically as the translator recognized a word here and there.

"Yes, we had fear," stated Frodo, apparently referring to something Samwise had said. "As Sam has said, we thought you and your people for Sauron were, and we had much fear and not good were we." He bowed in his seat, and Samwise did the same. "Captain Jonathon, sorry does it me – " the translation turned garbled once more.

Archer leaned back in his seat, relieved that finally they had seemed to reach some kind of understanding at last. "Apology accepted. But did you really come here through a magic door?"

"Yes," answered Frodo, and began explaining. The description, however, once more went beyond the translator's capacities, lost on the humans and Vulcan in the room, with the possible exception of Hoshi.

The translation difficulties were becoming worse as they attempted to discuss more complex topics. Archer decided that it was unlikely they could progress much more in this conversation without more words in Hoshi's database. At least the two aliens now knew that they were not allied with this Sauron, whoever or whatever the name represented, and would not fear them, or at least no more then they might fear anyone twice their height.

"Look, this isn't working. We don't seem to be getting much further," he stated. "Hoshi, you need to spend some more time with the translator, get it to recognize more of their language."

"I will, sir," she said automatically. "This conversation has already been very helpful. But if I could work with them I'm sure I could have it functioning better by tomorrow. The syntax of their language seems similar to those of other languages I'm familiar with."

"All right," conceded Archer. "You're relieved of Bridge duty for today, unless we need you, of course. But I also want you to find out as much about our guests' planet as possible. We need to know about moons, continents, constellations, what other types of life are on the planet, that sort of thing." He turned to Trip. ""Is there some way to find out where they transported in from? Somehow I don't think they'll recognize this Sûzat on a star chart."

"Maybe. We could scan the ship, check for any strange energy levels in the past day, see if there's something to trace back to where they came from. But Captain," Trip paused, looking concerned. "I've got my hands full with the repairs, and that kind of detailed scanning will take a while."

"I will do it," volunteered T'Pol quietly. "It would seem that the further we travel, the less likely we will be to locate Frodo and Samwise's planet. The item which transported them must have a transportation range beyond which it will not function. Therefore, Enterprise must have already passed their planet at some point."

"Are you saying that they transported onto Enterprise while we were traveling at warp speed?" asked Trip. "How is that even possible? We can't even do that now."

"We have not orbited any planets recently, Commander," she pointed out. "How else could they have transported onto this ship in the past few days? And the most perplexing question yet remains: how did their primitive culture manage to build a transporter?"

"Those are the questions we're going to have to start thinking about," stated Archer. "But I see your point, T'Pol. Why don't you conduct a scan for the closest uninhabited planet? We could remain in orbit there while the rest of the repairs are made. On second thought, also do a scan for the closest uninhabited M-class planet; the crew could use some downtime, and we may as well kill two birds with one stone."

"I fail to see what the death of birds has to do with scanning for planets, " said T'Pol with a frown.

Archer gave a sigh of exasperation. "It's just an expression, T'Pol." He placed his hands flat on the table, preparing to rise. "I think we're done here."

"Captain?" asked Hoshi. She indicated the aliens' possessions spread across the table. "Can they have their belongings back?" The two aliens, obviously understanding either her words or their meaning, looked up at him hopefully.

Archer nodded. Now that these two knew they were not in a dangerous place, there seemed little harm in giving them back what was theirs. Except for the weapons. They could do some real damage with those. "Of course. Everything except the swords. Those should go in the Armory until we're sure they understand exactly where they are."

"We understand where we are," said Frodo quietly. "Ship Enterprise, not Mordor. We like our swords back to have. My sword was from my uncle, and is to me dear. I give to you my saying, we will not bad do."

Archer hesitated. Could he trust them? Looking down at the earnest faces, he decided he could. "All right. But they aren't to leave your quarters. Do you understand?"

"They must stay in your room," added Hoshi.

The aliens nodded.

Well, that was one problem solved. His only remaining concern was their ability to become invisible and perhaps go somewhere they should not. "Can you control your ability to disappear?"

"To what?" asked Samwise.

"When you cannot be seen," clarified Hoshi. At her words, Samwise gave Frodo a strange look, and Archer reminded himself to ask Hoshi to talk to them about this talent of theirs. "We do not like this," continued Hoshi, using simple words that might translate better. "Do not make it so we cannot see you again."

"So will I not do," answered Frodo tersely. His use of the singular attracted Archer's interest, and he almost asked about it, then decided against it, noting Frodo's apparent hesitancy to discuss the topic. Later, then. It would take some work to find their planet; the conversation could wait, no matter how intriguing it might be.

Archer dragged his thoughts from the topic of invisibility and returned to the conversation at hand. "All right, then. Hoshi, why don't you also give them a tour of the safer areas of the ship? I don't want them wandering around alone just yet, not when we can't understand each other very well, but it might put them more at ease."

She nodded, and Archer stood up, satisfied with the progress they had made. He looked at his officers, who were following his lead and also rising from their chairs. "Is there anything else?"

"Not from me," responded Trip. "And I've got to be getting back to Engineering before anything else breaks or goes offline."

T'Pol shook her head, and Hoshi was already assisting her charges as they hopped down from their tall seats. Archer led the way out of the room, glancing back once at the strange
new itinerants the Enterprise had acquired.

He heard the whisper first. It slipped into his thoughts as a low murmur before the words became clear, bringing to mind a memory that haunted him still. "Cold be hand and heart and bone, and cold be sleep under stone."

He caught his breath in horror. He had to get away! Opening his eyes, he saw all around him only blackness.

"In the black wind the stars shall die…"

The darkness before him dissolved into mist, and he found he could see again. In front of him was a horrible, twisted face staring at him with dead eyes, black blood staining its nose and mouth. Gasping, he scrambled backward, bumping into another cold, gray corpse, and leapt to his feet, retreating in revulsion.

Slowly, Frodo looked around himself. He stood on what appeared to be a battlefield. Bodies of Men and orcs and horses littered the plain, as well as those of monstrously large animals with snake-like noses. Oliphaunts, he recalled. Far away he could see a battle with the dreadful creatures. From the corner of his eye he noticed what seemed to be a large city some distance away and turned to see it better.

And froze for a moment in terror, choking, his right hand flying instantly to his chest, hoping to cover what must remain hidden with the meager protection of his own flesh. Desperately he threw himself to the ground to hide behind the dead orc corpse, its stench ignored.

He needed no ache in the wound of his shoulder to tell him who this was. In front of him was a nightmare creature he would never forget: the pale King, lord of the Nazgûl. The wraith's back was to Frodo as he faced a lone warrior.

"We know the Ring is no laughing matter," said a familiar voice, sounding as clear to him as if the words had just been spoken. Merry! "But we are going to do our best to help you against the Enemy." They had done their best, of course, his cousins, left behind at Parth Galen. He hoped they lived still and wished desperately to see their dear faces again.

As if in answer to his thoughts, the voice drifted once more to his ears. "It will be a punishment for any of us to be left behind…"

At that moment the sound of laughter broke through his memories and he looked up to see the warrior before the Nazgûl speak words Frodo could not hear. The warrior let fall his helmet to reveal long golden hair and the proud visage of a maiden, fearful yet undaunted by the wraith in front of her.

The great beast upon which the Witch-King sat leapt up and Frodo cowered under the orc corpse, holding his breath out of fear he would be noticed. As the warrior maid's sword cleaved the neck of the terrible steed, Frodo recognized a small, crawling figure just behind the wraith. Clad in an unknown livery and moving slowly toward the King as he stood was his little Brandybuck cousin.

"No, Merry!" he screamed, fear of his own discovery lost for a moment as he realized what Merry was about to do. He'll see you! "What are you doing? Hide!" he whispered, unable now to tear his gaze away. The Nazgûl cried out in anger and hatred, and Merry stood up and stabbed him in the leg, then called a strange name that Frodo knew not. The maid drove her own sword into the creature as he fell forward, and Frodo saw his cousin's blade shatter. Merry held his right arm close and stood still as if dazed.

His attention drifted from the scene before him, drawn to a reddish light in the far distance that Frodo recognized immediately. Although it flashed over the field, it seemed not to see him. Relieved, he stood up and turned back once more, even as a dark fog began to slowly envelop the field.

His cousin's voice resounded once more in his ears. "Are you going to bury me?"

Frodo gasped in fear for Merry and ran forward unseeing, reaching out to him…

And woke, sitting up quickly, his heart pounding. He was in his bed on the ship Enterprise, Sam snoring beside him. Something warm and heavy was clutched tightly in his hand, and he opened it in the darkness to see the Ring, chain and all, lying there.

Author's Notes: Obviously the events of Frodo's dream come from LotR. Excerpts and descriptions are from pgs. 137 (A Conspiracy Unmasked"); 179 ("Fog on the Barrow-Downs"); & 326 ("The Ring Goes South") in my edition of FotR, and pgs. 114-116 ("The Battle of the Pelennor Fields") in RotK.