Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

A/N: IMPORTANT! READ THIS! Just so you are aware, I will no longer be putting character death warnings at the top of chapters. Okay?

...I'm not just saying that here because someone dies this chapter.

Really, I'm not.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

Chapter Seven: With a Whimper

"Captain? Captain? Captain Faramir!"

The younger brother of Boromir jerked awake with a start, head meeting the wall he had been slumbering against with a solid thud. Wincing, Faramir reached up to rub the spot, bleary eyes focusing on his lieutenant, Madril.

"Has there been another attack?" he immediately asked, stumbling to his feet.

Madril shook his head, quick to chase away the stressful urgency that had taken hold of the man. "No. You fell asleep where you stood, and I assumed you would rather not be seen slumbering in the hall by... certain people." He politely ignored Faramir's grimace. "How long has it been since you last slept in your chambers?"

Faramir rubbed a hand over his face, as if doing so would wipe away his lingering exhaustion. "Only a few days. There's no time to rest now."

Attacks throughout Gondor had been relentless and random, the enemy appearing out of nowhere to slaughter villages before vanishing into the shadows. There was no way to predict where the armies of orcs and Shadowed Elves were going to strike next, and by the time Faramir, the Rangers, or Gondorian soldiers made it to a town, it was far too late for anyone.

Usually there would be time to evacuate villages, stock up supplies, and prepare defenses, but the enemy could appear anywhere. Faramir and his men were the Rangers of the South, with the stealth of elves and the skills of the greatest warriors, but now they were unable to put those skills to use. The awareness that were helpless to stop their foes had been slow in coming, but as more and more towns fell, as more and more innocents died, hopelessness was gripping the hearts of even the strongest men.

Faramir took a breath, shoving away the haunting images from the last village he had gone to from his mind. He did not sleep because he needed to be ready to move out if needed, but also because he could not bear to dream about the horrors he had seen in the last few months.

So many deaths. So much destruction. All because a demon would rather play with us than kill us all outright. Are my father's claims true? Faramir thought, doubt creeping back into his mind with the familiarity of a despised friend. Is there no hope left, no chance of us winning? No. I refuse to believe that. Boromir is out there right now, finding a way to defeat the Void. I know he will find those Black Weapons he wrote about. Won't he?

A hand landed on his shoulder, making him start, and Madril gave him a stern look. "You're going to dig yourself into an early grave if you keep worrying about all this. Just take a few hours and rest. You'll be no good to anyone if you fall asleep when we need you."

Faramir hummed vaguely ready to disagree, but relented. "All right. Wake me if there is word of another attack."

"Excellent." Madril said, satisfied. He glanced at the cloudy sky. "I believe that it is early in the afternoon. If you needed to finish something before tonight, I will gladly…" Just as quickly, his lieutenant's smile vanished. "Captain..."

The ginger-haired man glanced outside the window and held back a curse. Soldiers were rushing about outside, some pointing at the sky while others urgently put arrows to their bows. Hardly visible in the midst of the shadows cast by the dreary sky, a large, bold shadow swooped briefly above the scurrying men like an omen of death.

Nazgûl! Was Faramir's first thought, as he ran to join his men with Madril at his side.

He too, looked skyward, spotting a dark shape flying swiftly back towards Minas Tirith. It was in range of the city now, bypassing the outer walls with no sign of resistance. What were the guards on the outer wall doing? Why weren't they shooting the thing down? A cry sounded, making several soldiers jump, but the tension in Faramir's body faded away, replaced by relief.

Madril shared his sentiment, letting loose a startled laugh. "That's no fell beast!"

Some of the men realized this as well, lowering their weapons, but others remained firm, sighting along their arrows as they prepared to take a shot. New urgency swept through Faramir as quickly as the old had gone.

"Stop! STOP!" Faramir shouted, racing into the courtyard. "Lower your weapons! Can you not see that is an Eagle?"

"There's elves on its back, sir!" one of the archers said tensely. "I can see them."

Faramir did not even hesitate in his response. "An Eagle would never carry a Shadowed Elf on his back." He said firmly. "Lower your weapons..." He hesitated, grimaced, then said, "...But keep your swords at the ready."

The men approved of his words, some placing arrows back in their quivers and exchanging them for swords or spears, while others held strung bows loose at their sides. The Eagle circled a few times above the city, bursts of sparse sunlight making his feathers glow, before it landed directly in front of Faramir, nearly bowling him and the other soldiers over with a gust of wind.

"Faramir!" the Eagle chirped, and the man's awe quickly turned into surprise as he recognized the majestic— but young— creature.

"Thiad?" the Steward's son questioned, recognizing the Eagle that had carried his brother off after his argument with their father.

"Its nice to see you, Faramir." Thiad greeted happily, though his feathers were fluffed and his wings were held oddly behind his back, as if he were trying to shield something. Faramir could just spot a part of one of the elves behind the appendage. The Eagle peered at the tense Gondorians cautiously. "Um..."

"Lower your weapons." Faramir ordered the soldiers once more. "Thiad is a friend."

The soldiers reluctantly did as he said, and Thiad relaxed, turning his head to look at his passengers. "Sorry about that. I'll let you off now."

"Your protection was appreciated, I assure you." the words were formal, but said in a shaky, strained voice.

Faramir was momentarily startled, having never heard an elf speak with such weakness before. As one he and Madril stepped forward as Thiad moved his wings, revealing the three elves on his back. The two males were obviously supporting the female elf, and all three were a little worse for wear. Crimson blood stained the tunics and armor of all of them, the most covering the she-elf, and Faramir felt an uncomfortable tension in his throat at the sight.

Unlike the graceful, calm image he had always seen elves portray, these elves had the look of defeated soldiers heading back from a battle they had just lost. The silver-gold haired elf's eyes met Faramir's, the pain and fear in his gaze so potent that the man had to force himself not to look away. The elf straightened, an aura of majesty and serenity covering the humanity he had just shown, and opened his mouth to speak. A choking sound escaped him and he swallowed visibly, the illusion of calm vanishing as quickly as it came.

"Please," the silver-gold haired elf said, cradling the she-elf in his arms. "Please help our sister. She's dying."

"Tell the healers to prepare a bed." Faramir ordered one of the soldiers. "You two, carry her to the Houses of Healing."

The first man ran off, while the other two approached the sitting elf, who tensed. The silver-haired elf, who had remained silent and unresponsive until now, gave a loud gasp and intercepted the men's advance, snapping a warning in Sindarin.

"(Stay away from them!)"

The men jumped, weapons back in their hands.

"Sheathe your blades!" Faramir said harshly. "We are not enemies."

"Tell that to him." one of the men muttered, and Faramir made a mental note to find out the man's name later.

"(Calm down, brother.)" the silver-gold haired elf soothed. "(They are trying to help our sister.)"

"(No! I won't let them near you.)" the silver-haired elf panted, a sheen of sweat on his brow. "(They're a threat. Look at them. They're ready to attack us!)"

Indeed, the men's hands were mere inches from their sword hilts, fingers twitching as they just restrained from releasing their blades from their sheathes. Neither they nor the elf were at their most rational state of mind at the moment, and the situation could easily devolve into a bitter fight between allies.

Faramir cleared his throat, and was promptly the target of a sharp, emerald stare. The elf's eyes were unfocused, his breathing rapid, and the man could tell he was still not completely in his right mind after whatever battle they had taken part in. Faramir was glad he could not say he also knew what it was like to see a sibling be injured in front of him, but the mere thought of such a thing happening to anyone let Faramir's innate sympathy win over his caution.

"(It is all right.)" he said in careful Sindarin, making the two elves look at him in surprise. "(We are not your enemies. You are safe here. Let us help your sister.)"

"(You speak Sindarin?)" the silver-haired elf questioned, seemingly shocked out of his panic.

"(Indeed.)" Faramir replied, the words falling almost naturally from his lips. "(I know my fellow men seem hostile, but please know that we are not a threat to you or your kin. We only wish to help your sister, if you would let us. Our healers are very skilled.)"

The words for the other assurances and pledges of safety he wished to convey to the elf fled the man's mind and he grew silent, nervously waiting for the other's response. He was not a skilled healer, but he could tell that the female elf needed medical care as soon as possible. Intense green eyes— Were they glowing?— continued to bore into Faramir's own, staring deep into his heart and judging him as if trying to detect any signs of deception.

Those eyes were far too old for that youthful face, and Faramir had to repel the wave of nerves that threatened to overwhelm him as he stared down the ancient being that was far more knowledgeable and venerable than he was. For a brief second Faramir feared that he might have angered the elf by revealing that an outsider, a man, knew the language of his people, but then the other bowed his head.

"(Very few men take the time to learn our language. I'll trust you then. For now.)"

He took a shuddering breath and stepped aside. Faramir waved the soldiers forward and stayed close as the men put the she-elf on a stretcher. The silver-haired elf walked next to the men as they hurried to the Houses of Healing, not close enough to get in the way, but near enough to interfere if the men tried something.

The other elf pulled him away a little, speaking again in Sindarin. "(Fael, they are trying to help. Give them room to breathe.)"

"(I can't trust them.)" the silver-haired elf said flatly, well aware that Faramir could understand him. "(I won't trust them. She got near Bere and stabbed her when we weren't looking. Then she almost killed you. I won't be caught off guard again.)"

The look he gave Faramir after that was almost defiant. The man decided it was best not to respond. As the she-elf— Elleth, he reminded himself— was carried into the Houses, her silver-haired brother attempted to follow the men inside, only to be stopped by his other sibling's hand on his arm.

"(Let the healers do their work. You would only get in their way.)" he said. When his sibling opened his mouth to protest, the elf continued. "(They will not harm her.)"

The elf— Faramir really needed to learn their names— eyed his brother suspiciously before sitting heavily in a chair on the opposite side of the hall. The other elf sat as well, eyes never leaving the now-closed door. Before Faramir could debate whether to stay with them or leave them under the watch of someone else, Madril spoke in his ear.

"Since sleep is most likely impossible for you now, you might as well wait with them. I will go tell the men not to speak of what happened, or tell anyone about our new guests."

Faramir nodded his thanks and sat across from the elves, exhaustion tugging at his limbs. He was surprised to see that the silver-haired brother was leaning on his sibling, eyes closed and breathing soft. Worry gnawed at the Gondorian's mind, but the awake elf quickly banished his fears.

"He is alright, merely exhausted." the silver-gold haired elf murmured. "I'm sorry about my brother. He was calm on the ride here, but when he saw the soldiers with their weapons, he panicked. He had to kill a... tough enemy in order to save my sister and I, and the experience has shaken him. Although I do not understand how killing Na—" His breathe hitched. "... that enemy created a sudden wariness of men."

Something flickered in his ancient eyes, and Faramir deduced that now was not the best time to press him for details. "Do not worry about it. I understand." Deciding it was best to skip useless formalities, he simply introduced himself. "I am Faramir, son of Denethor."

The silver-gold haired elf glanced at him in genuine surprise. "Oh. Right. We never told you our names. Megilag, son of Thranduil. That is Fael, my brother. Bereneth, my sister, is..." He trailed off, looking at the closed doors with open fear and— self?— loathing before looking back. "I apologize for not following proper manners and protocols when we entered your city."

"Greeting others properly in accordance to custom would not be high on my list of priorities either if I were in your situation," Faramir said gently, mind reeling. Out of all the elves to come here, it just had to be three of the Elvenking's children. The man distinctly remembered that the Sanctuary could— or was it 'would'?— fail if even one of the Royals of Mirkwood perished. Why would they be out of their realm, and in Gondor no less? "No offense has been taken, so do not worry about that."

Megilag relaxed slightly. "Thank you. I will admit that I have not been to Gondor in many centuries. Some people are more sensitive to perceived slights than others, and I was slightly concerned about not following the normal procedures when we arrived here." The Prince looked at his sleeping brother, he grimaced. "I suppose we should meet whoever is in power here, since they will be giving us refuge."

"Once your sister is stable we will handle all of that." Faramir said easily. "I'm afraid I will have to formally introduce you to the Steward among other formalities." The man internally sighed, already predicting how well his father was going to react to the elves. Especially since they technically entered the city and were here without the Steward's permission or consent.

That is going to be a lovely conversation, Faramir thought morosely.

"Thank you." Megilag said again, too tired to say anything more eloquent.

Seeing his sidelong glance at his brother, Faramir politely excused himself to give the elves some room. Madril stood next to the window, arms crossed and a deep frown on his face. The brother of Boromir recognized the look on his lieutenant's face and sighed.

"I see you disapprove of something I have done. What is it?"

"You probably should tell the Steward that there are elves in his healing halls." the Ranger began cautiously.

"I will, once they can present themselves better to my father." Faramir responded. "You know that he will see it as arrogance if they go before him looking travel-weary."

"He will see it as arrogance if they delay in seeing him and do not ask permission to stay in his city," Madril did not need to remind him. "You know that this is not going to be… simple. Your father is no longer a man that will allow it to be so."

Long ago, Faramir may have been shocked by the way that the lieutenant spoke about the Steward, but Denethor's pride and constant rejection of outside help was making many Gondorians question the man, which of course only made him more paranoid. Faramir was secretly of the opinion that only himself and Boromir were what was keeping people from abandoning Minas Tirith in droves... but a small part of him also thought people were either too foolish or too scared to leave, even if they wanted to.

And so the mighty realm of Gondor sinks even deeper into despair, the man thought tiredly. "I will try to lessen my father's wrath against the elves." Hopefully he will not do something that will cause Thranduil to block all of Gondor from seeking refuge in the Sanctuary when we are finally forced to flee or die.

"Your father is not the only one I worry about. Shadowed Elves have been killing a lot of people." Madril said lowly. "Do you honestly think everyone will be happy to have elves here, even if they are not Dark?"

When did elves stop being described as allies and start being described as 'not Dark'? Faramir silently mused. "I want you to keep trustworthy men with the elves at all times." he ordered Madril. "These are the Elvenking's children. The last thing we need is for something to happen to them."

Madril nodded in assent, but glanced out the window at the men in the courtyard, expression unreadable. "I will do my best, sir... but if people are angry enough, I doubt a couple soldiers will keep them from getting 'revenge'."

LOTRLOTRLOTR

"A large group of Dark presences just appeared at the edge of my range."

The words were said so calmly, in the blandest, most flat monotone, that for a moment Aragorn did not comprehend what Legolas had just said. He stopped, the rest of the Fellowship following his example, and all turned to the elf with various levels of confusion.

"There are around eighty enemies. I sense fifty-two Shadowed Elves among their ranks. They are approximately one and a half leagues to the west of us." the assassin continued to report without prompting, though his voice remained unconcerned.

One of the hobbits made an odd, hysterical noise from behind Aragorn, portraying nothing but fear, and like a wildfire it seemed to rip through the Fellowship, alarm on every face. The Ranger's normal reaction of readiness, his instinctive preparedness to take leadership and take action, was quickly overrun by panic and despair.

Not again, the man thought. Can we not have a single day of peace?

"Can we outrun them?" Eomer asked tersely, blue eyes settling on Aragorn. "Or should we try to ambush them?"

The Ranger choked for a moment, indecisive— What if my actions cause another death?— but his pushed his reservations aside with a great effort. "We should outrun them. There are too many to fight, especially if most of them are Shadowed Elves." Orcs and even men could be handled in larger groups by their party, but a large number of Shadowed Elves?

A single Shadowed Elf killed Erestor.

"I doubt that running will help us." Gandalf said, face shadowed by his hat. "It can no longer be denied. They're tracking us somehow, even with my shield hiding us." He paused. "Or perhaps my shield is how they're following us..."

"Is that possible?" Fili asked.

"Perhaps. When there is so much Darkness in the world, Light Magic may become more noticeable." the Istar gave a heavy sigh. "Especially when you consider that there are very few Light Magic users to begin with."

"So you're saying that your magic may be drawing the enemy to us rather than keeping them away?" Gimli groaned. "Wonderful. I always knew magic was just a pretty beacon."

The Wizard shot the dwarf a sharp look. "Now is not the time for sarcasm, Master Dwarf. If the enemy truly is able to track us, I believe our best chance is to split into two groups."

The responses to his words were complete silence. Everyone— except Legolas— stared at the Istar in bewilderment.

"Having two trails may confuse them, or make the enemy divide their forces." Gandalf continued calmly.

"W-What?" Boromir spluttered. "That's your plan after hearing about an army coming after us? That's mad! We would never find each other again."

"Actually, Esgal and I could track each group if we stayed within a league of each other." Elrohir said with the air of someone who had blurted the first thing that came to their mind. The elf balked slightly but did not take back his words. "I mean…"

"But why do you think should we split up at all?" Eomer interrupted, eyes narrowed. "Please explain, Gandalf."

"We cannot risk having the entire Fellowship being captured." The Wizard said forcefully. "Not all of us—" he paused, then changed what he was going to say. "With the enemy so close, we need a new plan other than fighting and running as a whole unit. We would also move faster in smaller groups."

Aragorn could not shake the feeling that Gandalf was holding something back in his explanation. He did not confront the Istar, however. Gandalf knew what he was doing.

"But if we're together, we have a larger force to fight against our pursuers." Fili argued.

Being together didn't help save Erestor, Aragorn's mind mocked him.

Eomer snorted. "Do you truly think that fourteen of us can defeat almost a hundred orcs and Shadowed Elves?"

"We did pretty well against forty." Gimli muttered.

"And yet it took only one to—" Eomer began but Gandalf cut him off.

"We're wasting time. It seems our informal agreement about leadership has expired." Gandalf said coolly. "We'll vote. Stay together or split into two. You already know my vote and reasoning."

"We should stay together." Fili said immediately.

"I think we have a better chance in two groups." Eomer countered. "Split."

"I don't want to be separated." Pippin piped up nervously. "I think we should stay together."

"Together." Merry agreed shortly.

"With the risk of capture, having us all in one place seems like a bad plan." Kili spoke next. "Also, with two groups, we can keep some people apart."

Aragorn expected the dwarf's eyes to be twinkling with mischief, and was stunned to see nothing but seriousness in those brown orbs. Those who did not notice the brunette's expression scoffed or shook their heads, thinking he was being cheeky. But the Ranger saw how his eyes flicked between Legolas and Eomer, his brow furrowed.

"That's three for splitting up, three for staying together." Gandalf counted calmly. His eyes focused on Frodo. "What do you think, Frodo?"

The hobbit hesitated, but before he could speak, Elladan did. "I also think we should break apart."

He did not elaborate, even when his brother cast him a questioning glance. "Well I think staying together is our best option." Elrohir said quickly before turning his attention back to his again-silent twin.

"…We should travel in two groups." Frodo said quietly, revealing none of his thoughts.

"Split." Sam voted immediately.

Gimli gave a loud huff, eyes narrowed. "You're all mad, lads. Dividing ourselves is only going to cause us bigger trouble. Stay together."

"I agree. Together." Boromir voted.

"That's six for, six against." Gandalf counted. He glanced around their huddle, frowning. "Where is Esgal?"

"I think he's busy." Sam offered hesitantly.

Sure enough, Legolas was up above them, scanning the area around them with attentive dark eyes. Aragorn realized he was still tracking the enemy while they were standing around arguing. His guilt was quickly squashed by tension as black eyes met silver. The assassin's eyes narrowed to slits.

The Ranger looked away uneasily. "I don't think Esgal will care either way."

Sharp blue eyes peered at him and the Istar asked. "That just leaves you, Aragorn. What do you think is best for the Company?"

The Ranger hesitated. There seemed to be pros and cons to each decision, but his mind was too caught in doubt to clearly think about them all. Neither decision seemed wrong, but neither seemed right as well. Was it Gandalf's spell that attracted the enemy or was it something else? Did they have a better chance of reaching the Temple as one group or as two, with one away from the Light Magic and the other hidden or seen within it? Did a bigger group make them easier to track or ensure they had more protection?

All of us together were not enough to save Erestor.

Aragorn closed his eyes. "We should split up and leave two trails. It would mean the end of our mission if all of us were found and captured all at once."

"It is decided then." Gandalf said heavily. "Let's waste no more time on this. We'll have two groups of seven. Elrohir and Esgal must be in different groups in order for us to keep track of each other. I will be with Elrohir, since Esgal can sense our presences even with my spell. Master Took, Master Brandybuck, you will be with me so I may keep an eye on you."

"I'll go with Esgal's group." Elladan said abruptly. "Elrohir and I can keep contact with each other if we're close enough as well."

Elrohir twitched, casting his brother a confused look before flinching harshly. Aragorn identified the look on the twin's face and winced internally. It would only be obvious to those that knew the twins well that Elladan had just snapped at his brother telepathically at best, forcebly closed off their mental link at worst.

"Boromir and Eomer will go with Esgal as well." Gandalf continued.

"Well, that didn't work." Kili muttered under his breathe. Only Aragorn seemed to hear him.

"As will Fili, Frodo, and Sam." The Wizard continued, seemingly at random.

He must have been thinking about this while we were arguing, Aragorn thought sheepishly. But we really should get moving. We've already wasted time.

Fili looked like the only one who was ready to argue. The dwarf had a noticeable angry look on his face, glaring at Gandalf like the Wizard had just kicked his dog. "I don't think—"

"The Enemy is not less than a league away." Esgal reported, sprinting back to the group. "We need to depart."

Gandalf's jaw clenched. "No more arguing. Say goodbye, and let's go with haste! Boromir's group, go on ahead. We are on a mission, and we already have spent too long being distracted from it."

As Aragorn watched the others— the dwarves and hobbits in particular— bid their goodbyes, he felt less like he was breaking away from his comrades as they went their separate ways, and more like he was hurriedly saying farewell as they were each being shoved into an enemy's prison cell. Despite Gandalf's proclamations, everything was happening too fast. One minute they were together as one, the next half of them were going to leave?

There's no time to put more consideration into this, the Ranger told himself. The enemy is almost upon us, is tracking us down. His eyes trailed over the members of the other group, lingering on Legolas. We need to focus, and find a way to increase our chances of finishing our mission…

He did not believe himself.

With a feeling of distant bewilderment, Aragorn watched the other group depart, feeling that they all had just made a huge mistake.

So this is how the Fellowship breaks, he thought. Not with a bang, but with a whimper.

LOTRLOTRLOTR

It was only a few hours into their separate journey, and Frodo could already feel the glaring absence of the other seven members of the Fellowship. Merry and Pippin were no longer there to ask when supper was. Gandalf was probably reprimanding them right now. Aragorn was not leading this part of the Fellowship through the woods with the confidence only a Ranger like him could possess. Elrohir was missing from his brother's side, making it seem like half of something beautiful and whole was gone. Gimli was not around to banter with Legolas.

And Kili was not present to joke with his brother, who was in a mood so surly that it made Thorin's legendary brooding episodes seem like happy times filled with smiles and giggles. Glancing sidelong at the Dwarf Prince, Frodo could not help but feel slightly intimidated by the dark glare that Fili directed straight ahead, partnered with a scowl so severe that the hobbit wondered how the trees ahead did not burst into flames.

Frodo hoped Fili would not be angry at Gandalf for long. The hobbit did not have a sibling, so he could not fully understand why the dwarf was so upset he had been separated from his brother. Surely they had been places without the other before, right? They were Princes, they could not go everywhere together.

Fili saw one of the hobbit's not-so subtle glances and beckoned him over. "Something you need, Frodo?"

He slowed down to walk next to the dwarf, leaving Sam beside Boromir, and kept pace with the Prince. "I just… I can see that you're still upset. I know that you want to stay with your brother, but..." Frodo began awkwardly, but Fili cut him off.

"That's not it." The Dwarf Prince's expression grew pinched, a crease appearing on his forehead as his teeth clenched in worry. His blue eyes flicked around the group, and his voice lowered. "I trust Gandalf. I do. But sometimes... I do not know if he can see the small picture."

Frodo did not understand what he meant in the slightest. The dwarf's tone... it was if he were speaking about a dignitary from a foreign land he did not like, rather than the friendly Wizard that showed off Fireworks in the Shire. The hobbit followed Fili's wandering gaze, looking from person to person in their small group. Just a group of seven out of what had once been fifteen, consisting of himself, Sam, Elladan, Fili, Eomer, Boromir, and Legolas...

Frodo was a hobbit. He had grown up in the Shire, but after its destruction he had traveled, seeing many things. Love and war, life and death, truth and deceit. Learning not to instantly trust what was on the surface had saved Frodo more times than he wanted to admit. He was not a battle-hardened warrior, or a great mastermind, but he had learned how to spot things, to see underneath the underneath. And what he saw now... what his mind instantly jumped to when he really thought about it...

"Gandalf would not do that." the hobbit responded on instinct.

"Wouldn't he?" Fili questioned him. "The Weapons are essential to stopping Iãgaw, as are the Wielders."

Legolas is a Wielder. Boromir is the only one who knows where the Temple is. Frodo's thoughts told him what he already knew. "Yes, but we have a greater chance of retrieving the Weapons with a larger group."

"Do we?" Fili asked in a rather strained and sarcastic voice. "Smaller groups go unnoticed more easily."

Fili is the Crown Prince of a nation that Iãgaw has ignored, a realm that is more likely to survive the war and need an heir to the throne. Aragorn is a strong fighter, and is the heir to a realm that will most likely be decimated due to the foolishness of its current leader. He is also the one central to a prophecy that was overtaken by another, and what are the chances of the same man being in two prophecies?

"But we have no one shielding us." Frodo argued. "We're out in the open."

The Dwarf Prince rose an eyebrow. "If you were the enemy, do you think the people with information you want would be with the Wizard, or just some warriors that are walking along their merry way, completely out in the open?"

When Frodo did not respond, Fili continued in that same, barely restrained tone. "Along with the Wizard are not one, but two Princes, and an elf, all exceptional fighters in their own right. Meanwhile, the exposed group has two elves that are currently not at their best. Almost like that group is meant to be a decoy." The corners of his bearded mouth twitched upward in a cold, pained smile. "Which group would you go after? Who would you hunt?"

Eomer is one of the strongest warriors, Frodo's mind continued to inform him coldly. He would be able to protect Legolas or Boromir if necessary, and would, even with his caution about the former. The same with Elladan, although he intentionally chose the group that did not have his brother. Gimli is also a great fighter, and would only fight more fiercely because Merry and Pippin— people that need protecting in his mind— are there. Kili is a strong archer who would be able to help greatly if a small group were under assault. But he is second in line... and not as important in the large scale? That cannot be it.

"But what about..." Frodo began faintly.

Sam and I... we aren't the strongest fighters, nor are we essential. Could it be sentimentality, or because I know Legolas's true identity and Sam is merely close to me? But Merry and Pippin... surely Gandalf would not...

Fili's expression grew harsh, and Frodo was a little surprised they had not drawn the attention of the others yet. "Who. Would. You. Hunt."

The hobbit did not flinch, even as his expression clouded. "Gandalf would never sacrifice half the Fellowship to draw away the enemy." Frodo whispered the conclusion that had haunted him since he realized just why Legolas and Boromir may have been placed in the same group.

"Of course he would not." Fili agreed steadily. "But he just may be willing to use them as bait."

LOTRLOTRLOTR

A/N: Just so you know, parts of what Gandalf and company discussed during the splitting up scene is true, but a lot of it isn't. Again, I'm using unreliable narrators (Thanks to "readmered" for telling me what it was called in a review!) They don't know that Iãgaw was tracking the blanks in his vision (unintentionally caused by Legolas), but it is true that he will see powerful Light Magic when it is used. I won't say anything more on that. I hope I didn't end up spoon feeding you what Gandalf's plan and reasoning is... if it even is what Fili fears. I hope I was able to portray that Gandalf was pushing for them to split though, without giving the others much time to ask why….

PLEASE READ THIS!: To Explain what is actually happening with the aura-shielding (without character misconceptions):

1) Gandalf's Light spell hides the Fellowship's auras preventing Iãgaw from sensing them, and was supposed to hide them from Iagaw's Sight. However, Iãgaw can still See the powerful Light magic being used. (Pardon the pun, but it's like seeing a light in the dark).

2) Legolas's unintentional shield hides the Fellowship from Iagaw's Sight (he cannot see them through his shadows. Remember Galadriel?) It does not hide any auras except Legolas's.

3) In other words, when they were together, Legolas and Gandalf prevented Iãgaw from pinpointing the Fellowship. Gandalf hid their auras while Legolas accidentally "blinded/blocked" Iãgaw, preventing him from sensing the Light Magic that was being used to "hide" the Fellowship.

Together, they had a near-perfect system, one they did not realize they were implementing. But now that they are apart...

1) Legolas's group cannot be seen by Iãgaw through shadows, but he can sense their auras if he is close enough (except Legolas's).

2) Gandalf's group all has hidden auras, but Iãgaw can See the Light Magic they are using and track them through it.

Thanks for all of the amazing reviews! They keep me writing and make me excited to see how you're going to react to each upcoming chapter. Seriously, even though I don't respond to as many as I used to (no time), know that I love and appreciate all reviews. :D

Please review!