A/N: Ok, this chapter gave me a really big headache as the story evolved and I came across more plot holes than I could possibly imagine. I really need a Beta Reader, I don't get many reviews for this and it restricts my ability to give myself a critical analysis to my own work. Though I must say thankyou to Taraeldaiel and all faithful Anita, even if you both didn't really enjoy the 'Bill' part in the last chapter. On the 'ears' thing, I had read somewhere that an elf's ear is a particularly erogenous zone and it got me thinking, what if Mel was simply curious…poor Legolas. I suppose by now you can pick out my favourite character WITHOUT looking at my bio, I'm also susceptible to Pippin and Boromir (that's why he isn't such a villain in this story like many others, I always saw him as brave and considerate, the Ring just warped it and screwed him up).

Disclaimer: Same as every other chapter, am really going to stop doing this as I will NEVER own them and disclaimers are just toooooooooooo repetitive.

Summery: They are still in the mines, Ken comes into play and Avon discovers things about himself…too late. Gandalf…well, ye shall see. Not for Sam and Avon lovers.

Warning: Battle, so this means death and fighting. Slight swearing again and small drug use (smoking, this is only PG-13 after all). Definitely not for Sam lovers.

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CHAP 10

Day four, he thought. Maybe day five but he couldn't be stuffed keeping time anymore, his foot was screaming blue murder, and that was enough for him to say they had been in the mountain WAY too long. They had been climbing all day, just endless amounts of steps and passages that simply didn't stop, no way could a mountain be this big but every time they turned a corner and he thought they were home free, it would just be another hall or passage. At one point they had to bend double and the walls enclosed them on either side and Avon had his first open panic attack, Mel soon followed and the rest of the group had to almost carry them out the rest of the way. The elf had come up behind and when they finally emerged into another spacious area, he looked as pale as a starched sheet; they were going to be in trouble if this kept up.

Back to the present, they had stopped for what Gandalf said would be the last night until they got out, and Avon had to have another smoke or his nerves were going to collapse. He slumped down against a wall, a fair way from the rest of the group and took out his pipe and rather diminished packet of tobacco, or pipe-weed like the hobbits called it and proceeded to try and light it with his worn down flint. He was almost in tears when he couldn't even get a spark to come and he chucked the rock off in the distance, not knowing where it went until a tall shadow loomed over him and dropped it back at his feet.

"I think this is yours." Aragorn stared down at the pouting young man before sighing and sitting in front of him, pulling off his sheathed sword and placing it next to him before staring at Avon again with those stormy grey eyes. He was very unnerving.

"What is troubling you my friend?" he asked, picking up the discarded pipe and sweeping the fallen bits of leaf up with his other hand while he waited for an answer.

Avon just stared at the floor, the depression weighing on him like it had once, many years ago. He had almost forgotten what it felt like, that dead feeling you got deep inside that seemed to snuff everything else out until you just couldn't care less about anything around you. The only thing that had kept him moving after the tunnel was the feeling he would be letting everyone down, showing his weakness so to speak. But now that freedom was near, that they would only be spending one more night in this enclosed nightmare, he was feeling even less like caring then before. The last straw was his flint not working.

"Nothing, I'm bored." He mumbled, not noticing that the ranger had fixed his pipe up again and was now lighting it with his own, fully workable flint that was as dry as a bone, Avon's must have been damp from his water skin that had split a bit earlier on.

"Here, it's lit. Do you still want it?" He puffed on the pipe to get it going before handing it to Avon. He took it slowly and put it to his own mouth, dragging even slower to get the full effect and holding his breath before letting it go again. His muscles relaxed almost instantaneously and he sighed, wishing Mel could give him a massage right about now.

"Your hands are shaking, Avon, pray tell me what is the matter? A hand does not shake on it's own accord without proper reason." Aragorn added, as Avon hurriedly tucked the offending extremity into his jacket and fell into a rhythm of inhaling and breathing out continuously so he wouldn't have to answer.

He knew his hands shook; he had put it down to nerves and pure anxiety. He may have forgotten basically everything about the book, but from the way things had been going on and the way Mel was starting to act all strange without telling him why, he knew there was some kind of climax coming up, and it was coming soon. From experience, the climaxes were not always the best thing; in fact so far they had all resulted in getting him injured in some way. He was in deep shit.

"It's nothing, just cold." He tucked his cloak around himself tighter and pulled his legs up, leaning his chin on his knees as he held the wooden pipe between his teeth. There was no more talk, the other man simply lit up one himself and started smoking. Then Mel joined them, then the hobbits followed closely by Gimli and Gandalf and soon a cloud of smoke hung over the small group while Boromir and Legolas looked on in disgust.

"Galenas." Legolas shook his head.

"Westmansweed." Boromir looked at the elf and they caught eyes.

"How can they stand it?" They both said simultaneously and smiled. If their companions wanted to smell like rotten eggs, so be it, it didn't mean they had to be near them all the time though.

The next "day", Avon woke up to a pleasant surprise. There was light around him that was for once not from Gandalf, instead it came from a long ray of sunlight streaming through some high window a fair way away, but since they had been in pitch black for nearly 5 days it looked brighter than it really was. This extra large coffin actually had windows.

Ken had been keeping his mind fully occupied now, even when Boromir would crack a really lame joke or Mel would punch him to grab his attention, all he would do is smile politely at them instead of complaining and walk on, or limp as it should be put.

He grumbled as he got up, his completely useless foot now dangling and he flopped it around experimentally; maybe he should take off his boot and check it out.

'No need, we already know it is infected. Why see to the obvious?'

"Coz I just want to check it out is all." Avon spoke openly to his permanent parasite; he had given up trying to speak to him in his mind only shortly after Ken had come into existence as his thoughts got too jumbled to form a proper sentence. It got weird looks from the others, especially Gandalf and Aragorn, Mel just put it down to the length of time down here and Boromir simply stayed silent on the matter, like it didn't really bother him.

'But you must make haste to keep up with the group, they will leave you behind for the betterment of the Ringbearer. You know this.' Ken sounded convincing but Avon wasn't going to fall for it.

"Look, I'm just going to sit for a minute and see what it looks like. They're having breakfast so there's plenty of time." Avon whistled softly as he untied the laces that had been made tight to support the numb foot before pulling off the boot, waiting for a bit until he did the same with the bandage. Before he finished though a small voice piped by his ear and he jumped.

"What are you whistling?" Sam asked, coming around to the front and waiting while Avon got his nerves back from the shredding room.

"Um, 'Men in Tights."

"Men in Tights? Who would make a song like that?"

"Mel Brooks, that's who."

"Who is Mel Brooks? Another "friend"?

"Well he…I…you're quite the curious one aren't you." Avon ruffled Sam's curly mess of hair and the hobbit smiled shyly, ducking his head and pulling his legs underneath him.

"Mister Frodo says it is what got me here in the first place, sticking my nose where it didn't belong."

'He's hiding something.'

"Are you sure he said that? I didn't think Frodo was so…forward." Avon continued unwrapping the bandage and ignored Ken completely.

"Well, he didn't say it right out, but I got that impression. If I hadn't been listening in to their conversation, his and Gandalf's so to speak, I wouldn't be stuck under a mountain somewhere, miles and miles from my own nice warm hole and garden. I'd hate to think what those wretched Sackville Baggins's are doing to poor mister Frodo's flowers, probably left them to freeze instead of trimming them like they should, even though me old Gaffer would take care of them. I don't think he'd come within ten feet of Lobelia though; she is far too scary for what's good for a hobbit.

Then again, I'm glad we're having an adventure, like Mister Bilbo had with the dragon and eagles, but he didn't have the whole of…er, the black country coming after him. It just isn't right Mister Frodo should be caught up in this, with the Ring and all, and not enough food is simply wrong for a hobbit his size. He's getting awfully thin. And then there are those two rapscallions, especially Pippin. What a silly thing to do, throwing a rock down a well, who knows what could have been down there." Sam took a breath and Avon put a hand on his shoulder, calming the over hyped hobbit down a bit so he could get a word in edgewise, the little guy was like a full blown engine when he wanted to be.

"I think your curiosity was the best thing that's happened to us, I haven't been this entertained by a singular person for ages." Avon smiled and Sam grinned in reply.

He was glad that the hobbit had forgiven him for the incident back at the lake with the pony, Sam had been overly attached to the animal and he wondered if the little guy would ever talk to him again. That had been resloved only shortly after, when they stopped for their first meal in the dark and Sam had made quite a feast with their meagre food items. Avon's compliment had made amends and the hobbit had become a little closer to him than before, like his curiosity would never be quenched.

'He is still hiding something, it is about me, it is about what you are doing still tagging along with them. He's come to give you a message from Gandalf; ~stay and rot~ he says, they don't want you to come anymore. You have slowed them down too much, they can't afford to have you around anymore.'

"Shut up." Avon growled startling Sam into an almost teary look.

"Not you. My head's just going nuts on me." Avon used his most convincing 'forgive me' look and Sam smiled again, shaking his head.

"I thought you were different, the first time I met you that is. Even Samson doesn't seem the same, even though you are both brethren, you seemed to be the one that was more likely to pick a fight or something. But I like you anyway, even if you are a bit strange, I think the strangeness makes you, you."

Avon grinned slightly, but then the grin turned to a grimace as he peeled away the damp bandage and revealed what was underneath.

"Oh Avon, how could you let it get like this. We must fetch Strider, he will heal it for you." Sam made like he was about to run off and grab the ranger in seconds, when Avon held him down and whispered hoarsely to him.

"No. I can't let him know; no one else must know either. If they do they'll slow down so I can catch up, and if we must run, we'll all be screwed. It's better if they don't know so only I will be left behind, not all of us." He looked braver then he felt, for sure.

Sam looked a bit torn for a minute, letting his mind tick over some things before he nodded slowly, and very reluctantly.

'You want to die?'

No, thought Avon as Sam slowly made his way back to Frodo and they listened as Gandalf gave them a run in to what was happening. I want them to live.

They marched now, Avon gripping his staff in a death like strangle to keep upright and seemingly looking ok. He was in pure agony now, the ache had worked its way up to his knee and even though his foot was numb, the rest of his leg sure wasn't. Infection, just short of gangrene; his foot looked swollen with all sorts of disgusting fluids and stuff, but the place where his two toes had once been scared the hell out of him. The area had been black, just simply stone black and the area that was covered by this blackness was spreading, he was terrified of what it could mean.

But when they came to a big square room that was almost blinding to the eyes with the light streaming into it, his terror for his feet turned to terror for his life.

The whole area was littered with old armour, swords, scimitars and shields, but worst of all was the amounts of bones mixed in with them, some were still rotting away like there was no rats to come and eat them. The thought made him want to throw up, really bad.

"Here is written in the tongues of Men and Dwarves. Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." Avon looked quietly over at Gandalf who was softly brushing the dust off the high stone tomb. He thought he'd seen the dwarf in all his splendour of emotional coldness since knowing him. But when the guy knelt down and wouldn't let anyone see his face, Avon realized that he was as human as the rest of them, even the elf.

"Look, a book." The strained and scared voice of Mel started them all out of their own private sorrow by bringing a very old and falling to pieces book to Gandalf, placing it carefully into the wizard's hands as he looked at her strangely, before he started to read. It wasn't very encouraging, hearing about the deaths of tons of dwarves, and then of the squid thing at the entrance they called the Watcher in the Water. It went on until…

"We cannot get out…drums, drums in the deep. They are coming." Gandalf looked up at them and Avon stared back, their climax was coming…now.

BOOM.

The sound made everyone jump out of their skins nearly and all eyes turned to Frodo. He looked very pale as he held his sword out, the tell tale blue glow telling Avon he would never see the sky again.

"Shit!" he swore as he stood next to Mel, both watching and listening in horror as the nightmarish booms came closer and closer, until they literally crashed against the barricaded door and made Avon's heart lodged in his throat. He couldn't fight properly; he needed to find some way of preserving himself for as long as possible and he tore his pack off his back, rummaging around in panic for what seemed like forever.

"Ah hah." He whipped out the phial of poison and dipped the corner of his cloak into it, soaking it before wiping the stuff over every sharp thing he had. "Here Mel, use this but not all of it." He shoved the small bottle into Mel's hands and she did the same as him before returning the still relatively full bottle of poison.

Then it started.

Ok, I need to kill them. Avon stood with his feet braced as the first onslaught came at him, but was startled and incredibly worried when his body didn't respond. Feet…move! He looked down at his frozen body before looking up at a creature coming towards him, it's huge underground formed eyes glinting evilly. Why wasn't he trying to protect himself?

He quickly spared a glance at Mel right next to him and realized that she had never really fought before, never had killed anything and she was also frozen with this realization in terror, her eyes wide and teeth biting into her bottom lip so it was bleeding. Suddenly something pushed Avon into Mel and they both toppled over, hitting the ground hard with Avon on top of the smaller body in a painful embrace.

"Get up and fight! You need to fight!" Boromir grabbed Avon's arm and wrenched him up, pulling his sword simultaneously from the Orc that had been charging them seconds before. "Please Avon! You need to live." The man's despairing stare caught Avon off guard as he helped Mel to her feet, paralysis wearing off as the reality of the situation hit him like a slap in the face. No…wait, it WAS a slap. Boromir had just slapped him!

"Boro?" Avon felt his cheek and stared in shock at the pleading expression on his friends face, he hardly noticed Mel running off as he questioned Boromir's motives in his mind.

"Just…just survive. Live." The man gave him another pleading look before he had to turn around, decapitating an Orc that was about to skewer him.

Avon felt that bloodlust seep into his blood again, throbbing through his veins and pushing all reasonable thought aside before he really deciphered what Boromir was trying to tell him. That he knew what the future held for the younger man, the one who shared his voices, even though Boromir didn't know that fact for himself. But Avon had been so caught up with his lack of faith in his own mortality that it was hard to deter the need for death, to the need for life. He only survived to buy time.

He was wondering if this was what the inside of a sword filled tornado felt like, him spinning in every direction to kill another creature, just to have another one come at him from the other side. There was no rescue party this time, not even sky to welcome him when he would take his last breath. He was so certain he was going to feel something sharp impale him and then it would be all over that the rest of the Fellowship almost stopped, and stared at his near insane barrage of attacks and kills. An orc was swinging at Merry and Pippin and the thing dropped at their feet without a head, Avon smiling down at them with a cold glint in his eye before going off to meet his death yet again. His foot sliced with pain every step he took but he gritted his teeth and ignored it, focusing on holding his sword with his right hand, and his staff with his left. But Lady Luck was on his side, the guardian angle kept him alive if not completely unscathed and unthreatened.

Of course the troll came right behind him, fate couldn't have planned it better and he turned, staring up at it with a fully working mind, but a totally paralysed body. His 'fight or flee' sensors raging in a full blown battle of their own. The troll swung its club and hit something, it cracked and smashed around Avon's ears and he realized a pillar almost crushed him. That got him going and he hobbled out of the way, leaping as the club smashed down where he had been only microseconds before. There were voices around him and he squinted through the dust, trying to pinpoint where Frodo was, he had to protect Frodo, the guy was the most important thing right now, he had to protect the hobbit…hobbits plural. They had all had to be protected. Mel?

"MEL!" He screamed through the haze and she turned just in time to stab an orc through the stomach with her spear, her long knife still sheathed as she couldn't swap weapons in mid fight as easily as the battle hardened warriors here. It was too close range to use her arrows with the limited skill she owned and she had been staying close to Legolas, her quiver always facing him in case he ran out. Aragorn, Gimli and Boromir had been killing everything and were now zeroing in on the troll, this gave Avon time to search for the hobbits that were being cornered by some huge creature that looked like an orc, but was way too big. He ran screaming at it, holding his sword up and aiming for a certain spot on the creature's back, but he wasn't prepared for what happened next.

"What the…" How had the thing turned round so quick? And how did it get his staff into its hands? He dumbly computed this for a second before jumping back, the spear head missing his face and chest but catching him on his wrist, just nicking him slightly before the stick was pulled back into his own hands and rammed into the creature, killing it instantly.

"Go!" He yelled at the hobbits as they ran out, all regrouping near Gandalf. He counted them, one…two…three…fou… "Frodo!" He screamed as he saw the little guy being cornered again, this time by the troll that had got away from Aragorn and the others. He ran as fast as he could towards it, slicing the tough skin behind the knees with his sword only very slightly, but enough to divert its attention back to him as Mel came up next to him.

They simply looked at each other, terror was mixed with tears and blood all over Mel's face, red as well as black and he could see why. Her jerkin was torn on her upper arm where an arrow had skimmed past and given her a pretty deep flesh wound; the area was tightly and hastily bound with a strip or something from her cloak. They looked at each other, searching the other's face for something to grab hold of in their last moments, something to tell them exactly why they were here, living out a life that Avon had only dreamed of in nightmares, always waking up in his own home, his own bed, in his own life.

He felt wretchedly ill, his stomach was doing summersaults now and he looked back to the troll, the instant of reveries passing as quickly as it came as he hurled his spear at the thing's head, keeping his hand on the end even when it snapped in two and fell useless to his feet. It was a shock, the staff had been the last thing of his previous life and he picked up the pieces, numbly tucking them into his belt while good old Legolas got a clear shot and killed the beast where it stood, him and Mel hopping out of the way as it crashed to the ground and revealed a dead body.

Silence. A sob from Sam.

Silence. He did not move.

"No." Mel whispered and turned Frodo over, his face calm and pale while his eyes stayed closed. Avon let her pick him up and hand the limp figure to Aragorn, the man taking him sadly before they rushed out the other door, trying to get away from the next load of orcs coming up behind.

Sam looked like he'd been hit, he was staring continuously at Aragorn's back as they hurried through the halls and out into some open area, Merry and Pippin were further ahead but Avon couldn't see them, his head was turning around and around and he grabbed Mel's shoulder, pulling out her own staff from it's holder and using it for his new support. She gave him a worried glance and he smiled.

"Go help the two little ones, I'll help Sam." He rasped, his chest was hurting and his head throbbed. He felt like being violently sick but he had to keep on running, to get away from something new, something huge and very very hot. He saw her face becoming red in the light of the flames behind him and her eyes reflecting the thing he didn't want to see, like a demon…or the king of all demons, the source of pure evil. She looked terrified for an instant, gripping his arm and pulling him with her, forcing him to keep the pace high as his blood pounded in his ears and the most beautiful bridge in the world came into his vision. He shoved her forward.

"Merry and Pip, they need you." He pleaded again and this time she complied, using an extra burst of energy to catch up with the hobbits and grab their hands in reassurance, making Merry go in front with Pippin behind so they could cross the narrow bridge single file, fear of heights not an option.

"Goodbye Mel." He whispered, falling way back until he was alongside the wizard, both running at an equal pace of deteriorating speed. Gandalf gave him a good long hard look before shaking his head and whispering into his ear.

"You must try to the end, young one. Even if you feel you cannot." The wizard gripped his shoulder and a new burst of energy passed through him, forcing him to go ahead of the wizard, if only slightly and make it to the bridge before him. Then it was gone and he had to stop, realizing he was a good way over and that the rest were looking back in his general direction on the other side, they were looking at Gandalf.

The idiot, what did he think he was doing? He was facing the damned demon, waving his staff around like he couldn't care less and the thing was…dear God it just hit him with the fiery sword and it shattered, but Gandalf looked hurt, he had to help.

Avon was almost on the other side, almost to freedom and he saw a lone figure running down towards him as the world tipped and swayed. The bridge gave a huge shudder and he was flung off his feet, landing hard on his stomach as he squinted through the building haze in front of his eyes, seeing the flames disappear. Seeing a figure turn around slowly walk back before flame came round his feet and pulled him down, dragging him over the edge as he shouted before disappearing too. What was happening to him? He felt so…sick. Avon basically had lost all comprehension of what was happening now and he scrunched his face up in confusion as the world tipped once more and he started to fall, literally going over the edge of the bridge and ready to meet the darkness below.

But then something grabbed his arms and he looked up through the haze, his comprehension returning with the shock that he was dangling over nothing with only a small figure half his size holding him up.

"Sam?"

"Couldn't leave you behind Mister Avon." The guy was in pain from holding so much weight and he gritted his teeth as Avon kicked and struggled to get up, not even thinking why the hobbit would chose him over Frodo. Then he heard a scream as Sam lost his footing and they fell together, more screams echoing in his ears from those above who'd seen them fall into the darkness of the abyss.

And they fell, and this time he couldn't be more certain of death than he was now.

'You failed them' Ken sneered before only black and silence were his companions and the Ring was no longer a threat, drifting away, passing into a seemingly endless unconsciousness.

It was death at it's utmost.

TBC

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YES! A cliff-hanger, in the most literal sense possible! I decided to give some dastardly cliff-hanger genius's a taste of their own medicine, though I'm not a genius. PLEASE review. I'm starving here!!!! And flames shall be used to light a nice warm fire in these -8°C temperatures.

Ta ta