I know, I should be dropped into the Cracks of Doom for the lack of updating. I've been studying and sitting my major exams, and have been busy, as you can imagine. However, now I have time. So I sat down and wrote this chapter. I think it may be a little shorter, though, sorry, and I was wrong: This chapter does not have the turning point, I comes next chapter, hopefully.

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The morning was bright and clear, yet there was a strange feeling over the camp. It was a thought more than a fact – all the companions knew the day was important without knowing the actual date. There was a feeling that something had happened, but after taking the time to think about it, not much was said about it. It was understanding glances rather than words.

Frodo, especially, was strangely peaceful. He was thoughtful, as was normal, but there was a serene, almost quiet look in his eyes, as if he was hardly watching the world around him.

The day passed slowly, the companions busy around their camp and doing whatever took their fancy – archery, swordplay, conversation, or, in the case of the former Ringbearer, simply lost in thought.

Frodo was not the only one who realised the significance of the day. Hundreds of leagues away, Aragorn woke at dawn to the sun slowly rising. They had been riding almost a week, and would be at Edoras in a few days. The gap of Rohan was near.

Shaking off the feeling of sleep, Aragorn stood and started to put his armour back on, picking up the pieces from where he had put them last night, before he went to sleep. As he was finishing buckling on his sword belt, there was a waking groan in the direction of the King of Rohan.

Eomer gave a nodded greeting to Aragorn, before trying to properly wake up and make sense of the day. Gandalf was awake by now, and was readying Shadowfax for another day of riding. Imrahil was still lightly asleep, but woke to the sound of Eomer sliding his sword into its sheath.

The four were not very talkative, but after a light meal and the clearing of their camp, they saddled their horses and began to ride before the sun had properly risen.

After getting the horses into their stride, the riders began to relax, keeping their eyes on the land ahead. Aragorn was lost in thought. As his mind wandered, it visited the memories from a year ago, the Battle of the Pelannor Fields, the Battle of the Morannon, the Army of the Dead, the original Council of Elrond…

Aragorn smiled as he realised the day. It was the Gondorian New Year. And it was the New Year because of…

Aragorn's smile slowly faded as he remembered his friends, the Hobbits who had become more than anyone could have guessed. The Periannath who had been drawn into the fate of Middle-Earth, and who had come out changed. After all, everyone had some resulting change from the War of the Ring. And now, they were drawn in once again, or, at least Frodo was, but his loyal friends would not let him go alone.

When the four riders stopped at midday to rest their horses, Aragorn sat with Gandalf on a small hill, out of earshot of Imrahil and Eomer, who were talking about their respective armies.

"So, Sire, you have realised the day?"

"I have, Mithrandir. I cannot help thinking – where are they?"

"Safe, I pray. Faramir said he was not entirely sure of their route."

Aragorn nodded. "I wonder how they are faring today, I wonder if they have realised the day, realised the date…"

"I am sure they have. Frodo, I think, will have most definitely realised."

"Yes, he will have. He can never forget. Gandalf, why do we go to face the armies of Mordor again? Why must we repeat history?"

"You know I cannot answer that. History has chosen to repeat itself, and we cannot stop it. We must take whatever comes."

"But not fully repeat itself – we are now fighting Melkor, not Sauron, as the Dark Lord. A worse opponent. Victory was difficult last time, and now could be almost unreachable, Gandalf."

"There is still hope, that we can crush Melkor while he is weak, or weaker than he will be. And we are stronger. We have not already fought a battle, and have more armies. There is still hope."

Aragorn nodded, rising from where he was sitting. "We better keep going if we want to make Edoras the day after tomorrow."

Calling to Imrahil and Eomer, the four mounted their horses and continued their journey to Edoras, Aragorn and Gandalf's thoughts dwelling on the memories of the previous year, and of their friends.

The sun was sinking as the companions came together for an evening meal. Afterwards, they sat around the fire, the firelight flickering over their faces, illuminating their expressions and movements.

There had been less than usual communication during the day, and now they were all together it seemed the perfect opportunity for conversation.

"Faramir – I wish you all the best for the year ahead." It was one of the first things Frodo had said in the day. "It is, after all, Gondorian New Year."

There were nods. Then Faramir lifted his head and looked straight into Frodo's eyes. "But we in Gondor do not forget the reason for the New Year."

Frodo broke the eye contact, moving his eyes down to stare into the fire. "A year today…" he whispered, his voice becoming lost into the flames. Those flames…reminders of the Mountain of Fire…of the Cracks of Doom…The Ring…

Frodo started to speak, to the surprise of those in his company. "No one will ever understand. Understand the feeling of the Ring, the feeling of powers of Darkness. Everyday was a nightmare. Every night was a fitful sleep, filled with more nightmares and then waking up and feeling like I've not slept at all. It broke my hope long before it broke my soul. I thought I would get to Mount Doom or die trying. Then I thought I would get to Mount Doom and die, never come back. Every step made it heavier, until it began to physically cut into my neck. I could not tell right from wrong. My world has changed for the worst. It was my curse. It still is."

Silence greeted his words. Frodo's companions knew a little of what he had been through, but they had never heard Frodo speak of it. It was surprising for him to share it.

Frodo held up his maimed left hand. "The major constant reminder. Although, one could say I was fortunate. I only lost a finger. I kept my life."

There seemed to be nothing that anyone could say. Silence reigned once again around the fire.

"I watched you. Mordor became terrible for me too, but not as much nor in the same way as you. I had to watch as the Ring affected you. As Gollum spun lies to you. Every day you became further away, became less like my best friend. And I could do nothing but watch."

Frodo reached out a hand to Sam, for it was, of course, he who had spoken. Sam reached out a hand in return and the two hands clasped. Frodo smiled slightly.

"You did everything. I would have been dead without you, Sam. You kept Gollum in check when my judgement was unclear; you kept hope when mine was lost. If you had not been with me, I would be dead and either Sauron or Gollum would have the Ring, or I would have succumbed to the darkness…you do not realise what you did, do you Samwise Gamgee? You helped me remember who I was."

The two friends let their hands fall. The other four sitting around the fire watched this interaction with fascination. Frodo and Sam were brothers in all but blood, the two people in Middle-Earth who had gone through so much that would break friendships. But their friendship had strengthened.

"Faramir, what do you remember of the Siege of Gondor? I have always wanted to ask, but have never wanted to offend you." Pippin looked to the Captain of Gondor.

Faramir's brow furrowed in thought. "I was brought in wounded just before it started, and was in a fever for most of it. But I do remember flames. And the Tomb of Kings." His voice quietened. "And I remember my father's death. I could hardly make out what was going on. I could only see him covered in flames as he ran from the Tomb. I was trying to work out if it was a hallucination or not, which it wasn't. His face will haunt me forever."

Pippin nodded. "That was the worst part of the War of the Ring for me. When Denethor tried to burn you alive…I had this feeling of panic, so I found Gandalf. I could not believe Denethor would go to such lengths. The only other part that might have been worse was searching for Merry on the Pelannor fields. It was the feeling of not knowing what had happened; were you alive or dead, or maybe dying, waiting for death; having given up on the thought that someone might find you. I found your Lothlorien cloak and searched into the night. I was lucky I found you."

Merry and Pippin clasped hands in the same was Frodo and Sam had. Merry nodded.

"It was strange, I was in and out of consciousness, wondering if anyone would find me. I could hear you calling, but I couldn't answer. But you did find me, and I couldn't be more grateful. Another vivid memory, for me, was the Witch King. I was looking for Eowyn, and saw her facing the Witch King. She had been kind to me, we were both meant to be in Rohan…he filled me with such fear as I have never felt. So I stabbed."

"And saved me." Eowyn smiled at Merry. "I would probably not be here if not for you. But aside from the actual fight, the reason I was there scared me the most. My uncle died in front of me, crushed beneath his horse because of the Witch King. I will never forget his last words to me, nor how content he seemed with dying. For some reason, he did not mind it; it was his time. I felt like I had failed to save him."

Faramir put a comforting arm around Eowyn's shoulders. "You did not fail."

Pippin was staring into the fire again. "I have said my worst moment of the War, but I think the worst feeling I have had was my ill-fated Palantir looking. The feeling of entrapment, as well as Sauron himself, was unbearable."

"And I watched helpless. That had to have been the worst feeling. There was nothing I could do, no way I could help you."

Frodo, who had been listening closely to his cousins, nodded. "If it's feelings were are talking about, mine must have been in the Tower of Cirith Ungol, when I thought the orcs had taken the Ring. It was an immediate feeling of failure and regret. I thought I had condemned Middle-Earth to darkness."

"I think I felt worst when I thought you were dead, after Shelob. I thought we had come so far, only for you to be slain. Then, I found out you were actually alive, and in the company of the orcs, and that made me feel worse, knowing what they might do to you, and feeling guilty for not having more faith." Sam smiled apologetically.

Eowyn and Faramir watched this conversation, interested in how the four Hobbits interacted with one another.

"They really are amazing, aren't they?"

"Yes, Faramir, they are."

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Lame ending, I know, but my creative streak for this chapter ran out. It could have been something to do with the fact it was about ten to one in the morning…Anyway, I will get to writing the next chapter. Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year to all!

((Reviewers will get Xmas decorations etc if they review (– Ahhh! I'm stooping to bribery!)))

WARNING: All rewards are metaphorical and may cause blindness, headaches and the torment of your soul. Sorry, they come from Mordor!