Continued from Chapter 2

The remaining Fellowship drew their boats into the shoreline at the green lawn known as Parth Galen. "We should rest here for a time," Aragorn said, laying down his oar. "Once we cross the lake, it will be hard going: the Emyn Muil lies before us, and then the passage between the marshes, before we come to the gates of the Enemy's land."

Frodo half-drew his sword and looked at the faintly glowing blade. "Orcs," he said. "Not close, but not so far either."

Aragorn nodded. "Likely they roam the woods on the far shore, and the near slopes of the Emyn Muil. We must be cautious."

"It will go easier if we wait until dawn," Legolas observed. "Even in the shade of the trees, the orcs will fear the daylight."

Aragorn glanced at the four hobbits. "I think we should have to stop for the night regardless," he said quietly. "Look at them, Legolas - they need rest before the final stage of the journey begins."

"And when we have passed the hills and the marshes?" Pippin piped up. "I still haven't heard how we plan to get into Mordor at all, let alone reach the Fiery Mountain."

"Now, don't be bothering Strider about that!" Sam exclaimed. "He's brought us this far, hasn't he? He led us safely through Midgewater - fought off those Black Riders - saved Master Frodo's life! If anyone can get us into Mordor, it's him."

Aragorn smiled. "I certainly hope so, Sam," he said, nodding to the hobbit. "At any rate I mean to try. Our only hope is that we can slip in unseen - and I fear it will be a greater challenge than any I have yet faced..."

Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to Tolkien.

Author's Note: This chapter is the one I very nearly had to rewrite. As I originally envisaged it, it would be the story of how, with Éomer and Gimli gone, it would be Legolas who died defending Merry and Pippin - thus leaving Aragorn to head into Rohan alone, not incidentally swearing vengeance on the two faithless companions.

Only... without Boromir, Frodo would never have been scared off. And further: without Boromir, there would never have been any reason to consider going to Minas Tirith. The Company would have headed directly for Mordor.

In fact, even this story may be wrong: the only reason the Fellowship picked up boats in Lórien was to put off the decision of which way to go. Without Boromir, they could well have struck out directly east from the Golden Wood. But I've allowed myself a little artistic licence for this one.

This chapter, though, emphasises a key point of Tenth Walker stories: any change you make will have knock-on effects. You cannot simply assume the book/movie plot will continue until you decide otherwise. The plot will be derailed.