A/N: Smeagol- Author is sorry, sorry, sorry for loooong delayses. Poor Smeagol apologizessss for late updateses.

Gollum- We isss not sssorry! Author should not have come back! Nasssty, Tricksssy sslimy Author! Sscourge on the preciousssss Lord of the Ringsessss!

Smeagol- No! kind readerssss not listensesss to mean Gollum. We isss sorry, we swearssss it on the preciousssss! Author had writerssss blocksesss!

Disclaimer: *sigh* Honestly, must we go through this every time? I don't own anything to do with LOTR.

Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.

-Oscar Wild

Home is Behind

Sam's Journal, Entry Seven

And so that was it.

We were going.

It was kind of surreal actually. Here I was on the brink of a quest to save the world from an evil maniac, just like in all the stories. It was something I had always dreamed of, picturing myself as the heroine of a great adventure.

I could say that I was excited about our departure; I could say that I couldn't wait to go and have a couple more fights with those black clad guys; I could say that nothing thrilled me more than the prospect of more shootings, and car chases and blood, but I would be lying. The truth was, I was terrified, terrified for myself, terrified for Fred, terrified for Merry, and for Pete, and Stride, and Faldang, and every one of the other people who were either brave or insane enough to agree to come.

At the same time though, it felt inevitable in a way. It was as though I had been expecting this all along, and just didn't realize it. Unfortunately, this didn't make me any less scared.

It was a week before we left, a week of packing and preparing, planning, and most of all, arguing. Tensions ran high, caused by a mixture of anxiety, stress, and uneasy anticipation. I had the constant sensation of being poised on the edge of a cliff, unable to run, knowing I was about to be pushed over the edge at any moment, incapable of saving myself, and just waiting for the fall, so terrified that, when the fall came, in the form of our departure, it was almost a relief in a twisted sort of way.

We left early in the morning, while fog still drifted in greasy wisps through the grey streets, stirring and parting around the feet and legs of the tired eyed, monotone suited men and women on their hurried way to work, as though the misty tendrils were alive, or perhaps, undead.

Stride and Faldang led the way, Leonard a step behind them, pointedly avoiding coming near the German man named Gerald, against whom he seemed to hold a grudge of some sort, and, if the deadly looks Gerald kept shooting his were any indication, the feeling was mutual. Next to Gerald, was Bear, a huge, blonde, Nordic looking man with eyes that were both quick to laugh, and quick to anger.

Merry and Pete walked with them, talking animatedly and asking the two men questions about who knew what at about a thousand words a minute. Fred and I brought up the rear, not talking much, but simply walking in companionable silence.

We were headed to JFK airport, planning on taking a plane from there, up to Quebec, and then another flight out of Canada and over to Europe, heading east toward Japan by whatever means were possible after that.

Bear had been against the plan, saying that we should take the Ring to D.C., where he worked as a liaison between the center of the government, and several of its outer branches, such as the CIA. His argument had been that he could arrange safe passage east from there, by calling in a few favors from fellow government officials. Stride had quickly shut this idea down, apparently mistrusting either Bear, or the government in general, it was impossible to tell which.

Faldang had sided with Stride, and it was decided, we would go by way of Quebec. There had been some argument about our means of travel as well. Gerald, who apparently had connections with several underground organizations, had suggested that we turn to one of these groups, and have them smuggle us into Canada. However, not many of us were partial to this idea, and so it was finally agreed upon that we would fly.

I clutched the American Airways one-way ticket in my pocket, and glanced nervously at the rooftops again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of black. Then another over to my left. And another, and…

"Faldang!"

I tried not to shout to loudly, but the early morning emptiness of the air carried my voice well. Every head in our group turned to me.

"Faldang!" I ran up to him pointing at the rooftop to our left. "A bit of black, up there! I think it might have been one of those guys from the way here."

His head whipped around and he stared piercingly in the direction indicated.

There was another flicker of a dark figure in one of the windows of the building, and Faldang started visibly. "All of you, into the subway, quickly!" He almost shoved me in the direction of the entrance stairs. I grabbed Fred's arm for balance, as I stumbled, and then hurried him towards the steps. The nine of us clattered our way down the metal stairs and into the relatively safe eeriness of the tunnels. Or, rather, seven of us clattered, Merry and Pete hopped onto the railings and slid down the way we used to slide down the banisters at Baggs Manor when we were little.

My heart was pounding, a frantic, erratic patter that I was sure everyone for a mile around us could hear.

"What was that?" Fred asked, eyes wide.

"A few of Sebastian's spies." Faldang said darkly. "Let's hope they didn't see us."

Sebastian Kyler, that was the man who had taken Faldang prisoner and kept him from meeting with us sooner. Faldang had told us the story briefly when Fred had demanded an explanation for his absence.

"We have to move quickly." There was a calm quality about Leonard's voice that managed to work its way through my fear and allow me to think a bit more clearly.

"This way." Faldang swiped his pass and walked swiftly through the gate onto the platform. The eight of us followed suit, and no sooner were we through, then we were hurrying to one of the train cars and piling in. The sight of the fluorescent lights and orange plastic seats brought back the memories of Weather Street that I had managed to quell with relative success for the past few days. I swallowed the bile in my throat, and found a seat, trying to concentrate on calming my still pounding heart.

The subway ride was agony. At each stop I grew tense, expecting an enemy of some sort or other to enter the car, and every time the doors slid closed again, it only gave me another couple of minutes to worry about what might be waiting for us the next time they opened, or else to be concerned about Fred, whose hand periodically flew to his shoulder, covering the bullet wound, while he tried to hide the pain that burned in his eyes.

After an eternity of this, Faldang finally spoke for the first time since we had entered the train. "We'll get off at the next stop." He lowered his voice, although the only other people in the car were a couple of colorless, stone-faced men in neutral toned suits who were far to engrossed in papers or laptops to be paying any attention. "I want the four of you," he nodded at Fred, Merry, Pete, and me, "to stay close. We don't know who or what may be waiting for us when we get out of here.

I nodded mechanically, once again bracing myself for an attack as the doors slid open. When none came, I relaxed the tiniest bit, and followed the others out of the car, and into the terminal. A blast of cool, recycled air fluttered my hair into my eyes as I stepped onto the tiled floor of the airport. I clawed the strands out of my eyes, and looked anxiously about. A sign opposite us read:

Welcome to Caradris Terminal JFK

Please report unattended luggage.

All passengers may be subject to random searches.

Lines of people waiting to check their bags wound through the mazes of dark grey barriers, talking loudly enough to nearly drown out the clatter of wheeled suitcases and roaring plane engines. The stale, processed smells of airport food and filtered air swirled around us in the drafts of the ever-moving rotating doors.

I felt someone tug my sleeve, and I lashed out at the person, only to find my wrist caught in Gerald's firm grasp. "No daydreaming." He whispered, "Ve almost left you behind." I looked over to see that the rest of our group was already several yards away, heading steadily right.

"Thanks" I whispered back, smiling a bit sheepishly.

"Not a problem."

We caught up with the others, and I once again situated myself close enough to Fred to keep an eye on him. His lips were tight, and I could see he was trying not to show how much pain his shoulder was causing him. I was glad we had a plane ride ahead of us when he could rest and recover a bit. If he didn't heal soon, it would be hell getting him to Japan.

We approached the officer in charge of passport checking, and Faldang held out his papers carelessly to her. She took the passport, glanced at it, her hand already automatically moving to hand it back to him, when suddenly, she stopped, eyes narrowing as she stared at the picture, and the name under it.

In that moment, we all knew something was wrong. Bear had already grabbed onto Fred and me, pushing us behind him, and slowly backing up. He hardly even needed Faldang's hiss of "Go!" before he was running, practically carrying us toward the nearest exit. I could see Stride dragging Pete and Merry along just behind us. Leonard was somehow already at the door, holding it open as we barreled through.

We had jut reached the sidewalk when the alarms began to blare. Gerald flung open the door of a limo idling by the curb, and dragged the driver out. I only had time to see the befuddled looking man land heavily on the cement before Bear shoved me into the limo alongside Fred and helped the others pile in after us. No sooner had the last of our group flung themselves inside, then Gerald hit the gas, and we screeched away, the sirens and alarm bells blaring behind us.

"What… was… that?" Pete panted in between gasps.

"Sebastian's spies must have seen us." Faldang growled. "He has people everywhere. It would have been small work for him to have a couple of agents in the airport on the lookout for us once he knew where we were headed. No doubt that woman was told to have me taken into custody along with anyone traveling with me."

"So where now?" I asked.

"D.C." Bear said firmly. "It's the only way left to us."

Gerald took a sharp corner and we all flew left. "No." He shook his head, gritting his teeth as he swerved to miss a bus barreling down on us. "Ve can still go through more… unconventional routes. It vill take no more than fifteen minutes for a few of my Mafia friends to get here. They can get us safely into Canada."

"I dislike the idea of asking for help from criminals." Faldang shook his head.

Stride frowned. "I will not have the Ring come close to the Capital. We should take Gerald's suggestion.

"And trust murderers and thugs?" Leonard shook his head and looked at Gerald with distaste.

"I've know murderers more honorable that you intelligence agency people." Gerald growled, grasping the wheel tight enough to put dents in it.

"Enough you two." Faldang barked. "Perhaps Fred can decide, as the Ring is his burden." He turned to look at Fred, eyes sharp, but questioning.

We all stared at Fred for a long moment. All except Gerald that is, who was busy trying to lose a cop close on our tail.

"Gerald," Fred said finally, "Call you're friends."

Faldang's face darkened, and Bear swore under his breath. Gerald however, merely took another hairpin bend, pulling close enough to the building next to us to skim the paint off the car door, grabbed a phone out of his pocket with a cheerful "Very vell!" and hit a number on speed dial.

Behind us, the cop proved to be far less skilled than Gerald, clipping the front of the car against a wall. The back wheels of the blue and white vehicle spun out, and the police officer lost control of the wheel. The car swerved into the side of the building, and the front half crumpled in on itself. Gerald glanced back at the smoking wreck, nodded, and said into the phone, "Hey Gamer, have Bailey send someone over to the pick up zone vould you? I need tickets for nine up to Canada…Yes, I did say nine… Good. I vill be there."

He looked back at us, and put the pedal down again, heading off in another direction. "Ve're in." he grinned.

Smeagol-reviewsesss? Pleasssse? Nice reviewses to make update come quicker?

Gollum- No precioussss no updatesssssesss! No reviewses! We hatesss them, precioussss! Hatessssss!

Smeagol- Gollum isss bad! Gollum doesss not like Author! Nice, kind readerssessss pay no attention to nasssty Gollum!

Shoutouts:

Sorry, sorry, sorry, but I have a class I have to get to, and I want to post this as soon as possible, so no shoutouts this time. Forgive me? Pleeeaaasse?