Notes: Hola my readers! I sadly did not have time to put my beautiful artwork as my Avatar, but I promise I'll have it out ASAP! Remember: PLEASE COMMENT!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Lord of the Rings. Everything belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien, excluding Calathiel and the plot twist.

Warnings: At the end, (you'll know it when you see it) slight grown up concepts. Also first character death.

Happy reading!

Aragorn

I kept my eyes on the situation, waiting without a sound. The opportune moment will appear… repeated in my mind, looking over to Boromir who hid next to me, behind a thick tree. Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Gimli lay behind a mangled brush, while Gandalf hid behind the shelter of a neighboring tree. Legolas waited in the branches of my tree, bow drawn, ready to kill.

About five hours ago, we had been quite oblivious to the fact that four of our comrades had disappeared from the tavern, two of them being the most important. After Gandalf had returned from purchasing the boats, Sam pointed out the fact that Frodo had left, and hadn't returned for "some time, now". It was then when we were suddenly aware that the Eomer, Eowyn, Frodo, and Calathiel were nowhere inside the tavern.

Luckily the bartender said that he had noticed a couple strange looking fellows leave the tavern. Then much to the displeasure of Merry and Pippin (who were half under the influences of the large amount of ale they drank) we sprang up and tracked Grima Wormtongue and his men for the past four hours- Which was not an easy task.

We had only arrived just as the two men were moving Calathiel towards the shore. It appeared as if they were attempting to drown her, but something seemed too had changed their minds. Everyone now waited for the right second to burst in, for the element of surprise would be helpful.

The only good thing I had learned from being a ranger was that I simply knew the ways of criminals and scum of the sort. They were not brainless orcs; they were quite smart, in a horrible way. Especially on the topics of killing, stealing, and fighting. Meaning that this rescue would show to prove quite difficult.

Calathiel was kicked to kneel down in front of Grima Wormtongue, the rope around her neck tied to the large rock trapping her. As he took out a jagged short sword, I looked up to Legolas and whispered, "No diriel." He nodded, though his face was still turned to the situation.

How do they manage to constantly put their lives in jeopardy? I wondered, pulling out my sword and eyeing Calathiel. I sighed looking downwards. Yet you still put it upon yourself to save them… How could I not, though? I wasn't about to let either one of them die. For that would be letting all who walk Middle Earth die.

Wormtongue raised his weapon above his head, pure hatred growing in his eyes. He looked down upon Calathiel as if she were an animal; below him, unworthy of even his slightest attention. His knuckles began to grown pale white. He's actually going to do it—

Before I could let out a word of protest, Legolas let fly an arrow. It cut through the air, making a loud noise, piercing the silence, and letting them know of our presence. Wormtongue saw it immediately, and threw down his short sword, hurling himself to the ground. "No…" I couldn't help but mutter as his eyes grew wider with the realization that we were here.

Then suddenly he began to laugh; a twisted, strange laugh. Boromir began to move forward, but I put a hand out to stop him. "Y—you're too late!" He called, still laughing. The men helping him looked in our direction. "You can't help them! You're…you're fools to b-believe you can!"

"Stay down," Gandalf whispered sharply to everyone, when I suddenly heard a wail of, "NO!" from Frodo. Everyone spun back around. The rock Calathiel was tied to, was now racing down the slope towards the water, pulling Calathiel backwards, by her neck, with it. With a splash, both landed in the water. That was all I needed.

Before even realizing what I was doing, I began to run hard, my eyes focused on the remains of the splash. I threw my belt with my weapons and things along with my cloak, behind me. Sidestepping the men that tried to block my way, as fighting began to break out between the fellowship, and Wormtongue's men. Then without a second thought, I dove into the freezing water.

In the water, time seemed to slow down. Every motion was pressured against the water, causing you to move quite slowly. Everything was silent, except the faint popping of bubbles. I turned my head looking for her, slightly jumping when I saw her. Lying upon the floor of the lake, there she was; lifeless and pale, a faint glow coming from the inside of her shirt. Her hair floated around her face, waving in the current. Her eyes were closed peacefully, her face free of tension. I would've guessed she was dead, until I saw her shake slightly, and when her feet (which were robbed of her boots) twitched. I swam downwards, hacking at the rope with the knife I had given her, which still remained tucked in her belt. As the last fibers of the rope snapped, I gathered her into my arms. Beginning to lose breath myself, I swam upwards to the faint glow of the moon.

As my head broke above the water, the silence was broken. Shouts and clangs of metal rang out through the plains that surrounded us, as the fighting carried on.

I crawled onto the wet shore, setting Calathiel on her back. As soon as she made contact with the ground, she began to cough up water mixed with blood. She inhaled in loud gasps, and exhaled with fast wheezes. "Deep breaths…" I tried to ease. She opened her eyes groggily, her lips quivering from the cold.

"It lies near…the fish needed by the ravens…the decision draws hither…" She murmured faintly, I watched her intently, not knowing what to do, or how to react. "One shall die…a company of eleven shall turn to-to ten…" Her eyes rolled up into her head. I turned my head around to look for Gandalf, but her hand suddenly grabbed my wrist. "The mighty empire will…fall…none can be trusted…" "What mighty empire?" I asked leaning closer.

She suddenly cried out in an octave higher, bolting upright looking scared. "Ara—" She tried to say before a booted foot kicked her onto her front. I turned around quickly, pushing myself onto my knees.

"Sorry, dearie…" A tall man sneered, looking down at Calathiel's limp form, aiming another kick at her. Though I beat him to it by landing a hard punch into his stomach. The man staggered back a step, looking winded, and then began to charge forwards. Calathiel shifted her legs, throwing off his weight slightly, giving me enough time to gather my bearings. I thrust the knife at his chest, clashing against his sword. With all my strength I pushed against it. Without the proper weapons, this battle wouldn't last long at all. "Calathiel!" I yelled, dodging a blow to my right. She propped herself up on her elbow, and looked up, leaning forwards to avoid being run over by a member of the fellowship. "My—my sword, please! Anything!" I motioned over to the tree I stood behind earlier before having to roll onto the ground.

Calathiel got up shakily, though quickly, and disappeared into the blur of the fight.

Calathiel crouched down behind the tree Aragorn had indicated. She breathed heavy, twisting her drenched hair to rid it of the excess water. It landed on the ground in quiet drops, timed perfectly. Her emerald eyes blinked slowly, remembering and understanding the previous events. She murmured something in a silent voice, her lips the only sign that she was speaking.

Her slender and long hand lingered in the air for a several seconds, then she pulled it back when a loud cry from somewhere amidst the small battle they had created rung out through the area. Pray it is not anyone of the fellowship, She thought, reaching for Aragon's sword attached to the belt left on the ground.

"Calathiel!" Exclaimed Pippin from behind the bush he was positioned behind, standing up. His voice was, as normal, quite cheery, clearly not matching their situation. She pulled the sword and belt into her chest and looked up at him in surprise. Pippin clambered to his feet too, almost pulling Merry down in his attempt to steady himself. "Gave us quite a fright there," He said sincerely, "We thought you were gone forever!" "Pippin!" Sam hissed, giving him a shove of warning as he left the spot he was told to stay in. "Truly," Calathiel confessed, "I thought so too." She smiled at them starting to turn around.

"Please don't go!" Merry called after her. "It's horrid—you know: staying here, without being able to doing anything," Pippin kicked a rock to the side. Calathiel sighed, and looked back to them, "I know it's—"

Another wail echoed through the battle. Sam's face suddenly paled. "Mr. Frodo!" he yelled frantically, making a run, though not knowing where to go. Calathiel tried to get a proper glance at his location, but was blocked by the mass of people. She craned her neck as far as possible, standing on the balls of her feet, her heels lifted up from the ground. In a swift movement, she turned and shoved Aragorn's sword and belt into the hands of Pippin. "I give you permission to go out there and give these to Aragorn," "Aragorn?" He questioned. Merry nudged him, "Strider! And I'm comin' too." Pippins mouth formed the shape of an O, and then he nodded, running behind Merry who had taken the lead. Both held the daggers Calathiel had given them.

Sam crossed his arms and muttered, looking downwards, "Fools…the both of 'em…gonna get themselves hurt—probably worse..." He looked up suddenly and gave a slight smile to Calathiel. "Go on now; don't let 'im—or you, for the matter, get killed." She nodded in response and took off at a jog. Was that a smart idea to give them his things? She contemplated as she neared the source of Frodo's yell.

Sam stood where he was left, accepting the fact that he would be better off hidden and not fighting. Though he wouldn't say it aloud, he was somewhat frightened. If it was not for Calathiel, he would've run off to save his own master. But thankfully for him, someone else rose to the challenge, and he knew she would do alright for now.

Frodo

A medium sized, ginger man edged towards me, a wicked smile etched on his bearded face. He held in his left hand, a dull, but spiked, sword. I cowered back further, feeling my pulse beat through my body, its sound drumming through my ears. Almost as if someone was taking loud, booming steps down stairs, getting quicker as he drew nearer.

Frodo, love…it's your precious…your precious…I'll save you…all you have to do is put me on…

"Go away!" I whispered, shaking the thought from my mind. But the ring wouldn't go without a fight, as usual.

A flash of Pippin, lying completely limp upon the bloodstained ground, ran through my mind. His face was scrunched as in great pain, mouth open as if to scream. Red blood covered his figure, arrows protruding from his chest. A yell filled my ears. You can save him from this…all you have to do…is simply put me…on...

"No!" I cried, realizing I was shaking. It's only in your mind, Pippin's fine…I hope. "Such horrible things one's mind can do to them," I remember someone saying, though I couldn't recall who. Though the one doing things to my mind wasn't me, it was the ring; that wretched thing that had chosen me to torture. The thing that had made my life completely halt, in order to do away with it. It was the cause of not only my troubles, but the fellowship's as well. And it would become Middle-Earth's if I was to fail. And it seemed as I would for the moment.

"S-Sam!" I cried, as Wormtongue's man stepped yet another couple steps towards me. I kicked out my feet at him, trying to push myself farther into the tree, but it was a fool's hope. "There's no use in tryin' halflin'…" he laughed menacingly again at my fear, which only made it worse.

Listen to your…precious…Frodo…Frodo…

Suddenly, someone leapt out of nowhere, onto the man, sending both of them onto the ground with a soft sliding noise. My eyes widened as they began to roll on the ground in mass chaos of wrestling and fighting for control of their weapons. I then recognized that the man who tackled Wormtongue's man, was Strider—er Aragon. He seemed to struggle to keep the man's sword away from him; desperately holding onto the wrist of the man's hand that held the sword, pushing it away. His other hand taking swift swipes at his face. Wormtongue's man was keenly intent of stabbing Strider.

Then I felt a slight loosening of the binds around my wrists. The humming of a knife cutting through thick strands of fiber sounded faintly in the background. I turned my head as far as I could behind me. Calathiel returned my stare, feverishly running a dull pocket knife back and forth the rope.

"You're…you're alright?" I managed to whisper. She nodded, looking back down upon her work, water dripping from her hair to the ground. She's completely soaked! "You're going to catch hypothermia!" I exclaimed quietly, as Aragorn grunted loudly in struggle. She looked down at herself, and then continued hacking at the rope. "I'm hardly the greatest issue at the moment…" she hissed still in a whisper. But then her voice lightened, "But… well, I'll be fine. It's you we're worried about. We being—what are their names? Oh! Merry and Pippin." The rope slid off and landed on the ground. I brought my hands back around to my front and rubbed my wrists. A red circle was all that was left. I looked up, "Sam too?" "Of course."

She grabbed my hand, and forcefully pulled me behind the tree to her side. Strider let out a yell out of view; a yell unmistakably of pain. I made a movement to go and help him, but Calathiel pulled me down again, drawing out the dull knife. "You just escaped from drowning!" I reminded her in a hushed voice, "I don't think it's safe to—" "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, Frodo." She hissed, clearly angered by my statement. I drew back respectfully, not knowing what else to do. It was wrong of me to question her capability. She's an elf, she'll be fine. "Sorry My Lady." She got up off her knees, looked back down at me again, then sighed closing her eyes. "No I'm sorry," she spoke quietly; "I didn't mean to get aggravated. Its just that...oh never mind." And with that, she walked off at a brisk pace. I tried to keep myself from wanting know the end of her sentence. As she disappeared, I brought my head around the tree to watch.

But there was nothing to watch. The man, Strider, and Calathiel just stood there, looking off somewhere I could not see from the side of the tree I hid behind. Everything went silent unnaturally in a couple seconds. Then, with a slightly aggravated expression, Aragorn dropped his sword to the ground. As it settled with loud clangs, Calathiel dropped her blunt knife. But without weapons they're powerless! I thought as I swung to look to the other side of the tree, my curiosity rising at a steady pace. But in less than a moment, it turned to utter terror, mixed with disbelief.

Gimli lay on his stomach, still gripping his ax in one hand, his face was covered by shadow. The hilt of a knife sticking out from his back. The unmistakable red color of blood splattered his shirt and chain mail. I covered my mouth wanting to cry out, though I was still in shock. Then I turned my gaze upwards. Wormtongue stood straddled over Eowyn's legs, with one hand on the ground next to her shoulder, the other holding his jagged dagger to her throat. She breathed heavily looking up to her brother with a dreading expression, powerless.

"And if you don't surrender…now..." Wormtongue seethed, quite pleased with himself, "She's dead…or worse..."

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