Oz raised his head, sniffing the air. Not only did he know the smell, he recognized the familiar sound of the horses' hooves. "Buffy, Xander," he quietly greeted them as he transformed and joined them in the clearing.
"Well?" Buffy demanded, reigns tightly clasped in her hands.
He didn't eve pretend ignorance about what she was asking. "I lost her among brambles and thorns up north. We must seek a map to find our way around it. The land is treacherous for I believe that it is Angmar's own land - full of the spirits of hungry dead and those of the living who dwell in evil."
"I am not going back to that place until I have Willow with me." There was no doubt what place she was talking about.
Oz only shook his head, "I would never suggest such a thing. There is a town in the area we could visit. If there is no welcome, I know that Gimli's people would accept us. Dwarves' memories are long and they would know us as Gimli's friends."
"You speak of Dale and the Lonely Mountain," Xander nodded, recalling one of the tales he'd heard back in Lothlórien. "Good idea."
"I've been known to have them occasionally," he shrugged, though there was a slight smile on his face.
"Let's go." The order was rather hard and ignored the way her friends were trying to liven up the mood. Buffy wasn't in the mood. She couldn't take her mind off her task. And so, she didn't even wait to see if they would follow her. She rode off.
The choice - the decision - had been made the moment she had word and there was no more time for delays. They had delayed to long as it was. She knew the danger that Willow was in. In her dreams, Sauron's eye and power haunted her, stalked her. The very malevolent feel of his evil twitched her nose with its aroma. She didn't sleep much any more.
If they hesitated, debated - her friend would be lost to him.
Exchanging concerned looks, Xander and Oz followed her. Oz transformed once more, knowing that the horses would be all right with him, they had become used to him over the course of their journeys. In the back of their minds, though they tried not to think of it, worry over Buffy's current mindset taking the slightest precedence over Willow's condition. While it was never far from their minds, they were more worried about what the Slayer would do.
777
Aragorn sat, quietly contemplating the path before him through the smoke of his pipe. Earlier in the day, Gandalf and Pippin had left for Gondor. They had had to because of the hobbit's rather foolish, though well meant, intentions. Sauron's eye had turned towards them with vengeance and nothing short of total war was going to help any of them now.
"Starring will not change the path you must walk," Legolas said.
"I know. But there are times that I wish it would. Do you ever feel unable to rise to the task placed before you?" he asked, looking at the elf. "Or are you immune to such feelings?"
Legolas met his eyes evenly, "Only around the Ring have I ever felt so. Why?"
The Ranger nodded, as if he had expected that answer, "I thought as much. As for why, it matters not. There is no advice you can give that will help me do what I must do."
"If it is any consolation, Gimli and I will be by your side." Legolas smiled wryly - well, as wryly as an elf could. "I know. Gimli is dear to me - more dear than I believed possible."
"Because he is a dwarf?" he asked, curious to hear his reply.
Legolas' head shook, amusement coloring his eyes, "No, of course not. I just did not think it possible to form a friendship as deep, as enduring as ours will be, in such a short amount of time. Yes, we have endured great hardships on our journey but I believe - no, I know that we would have become friends regardless."
They sat in silence for a time, watching the smoke curl in the deepening sky. The sun crossed the horizon, covering the world in darkness as it traveled along its course. "What do you think will be the result of Willow's disappearance?"
"She will become Sauron's Ring," Aragorn answered, no doubt in his voice. He'd had a lot of time to think about this and, though he did not like where his thoughts lead, he knew with unflinching honesty that he was right. The Ring Frodo carried was no longer Sauron's focus - Willow was. "There have already been some signs of the change in her but I ignored it, not knowing what it foretold. Or rather, not wanting to believe what it foretold. In the end, she is the one we will have to fight."
"Are you sure?" Legolas asked, shivering at the thought. He was not a coward but this was completely different from fighting an orc army. Having spent much of his life fighting them, he knew what to expect. But fighting someone with Willow's powers was…daunting to say the least. There was a frightening amount of innocence to her understanding that made her more powerful because she did not know about moderation.
In Sauron's hands, that innocence would be gone. He would know how to access and use those powers to the fullest.
"I only know what I have surmised from what Giles and Boromir said. Darkness never rests easy when it has found a weakness to exploit. Willow has power, a whole well of it, and she does not know what to do with it. No one knows what to do with it - with the exception of Sauron. He will exploit and corrupt that power and her lack of viable tutor."
"But how does one kill a friend?" Legolas asked into the uneasy silence that had fallen between them. "Even one who has become…evil's handmaid?"
"I do not know."
Boromir slid back into the shadows, relieved that Aragorn was talking to someone about his thoughts and troubles. His stomach twisted up, making him uncomfortably aware that he had not fed. Shuddering away from the thought of feeding, he almost missed Giles' arrival, though the demon recognized the scent of a meal. "Hello," he greeted the watcher, uneasily aware of his drawn fangs.
"Boromir," Giles returned the greeting calmly. Taking a closer look at him, he nodded, as though he'd been expecting something like this to happen, "You are hungry."
"I can control it."
"Not this early in your transformation," he contradicted. "I do not wish to discomfort you but these are early days yet. You were very lucky not to feel hunger on your journey here. But you must take control of your demon now before it does. You must learn to hunt and fed now or the bloodlust will become too intense. The outcome of which I am sure I do not need to tell you about. You cannot risk the backlash and what it may do to you and those around you."
"And how do I do that?" Boromir snapped. "I thirst for blood - not food. The only blood about is from my allies - whose blood I cannot take without destroying all that my Captain and king has worked so hard to accomplish. I will not eat their horses which would have a far worse outcome. Not to mention that I do not know how to hunt, I was thrust into this with neither choice nor sire to guide me. I have no one to teach me what I need in order to survive. I am without family for I am a new breed of vampire and do not belong solely to the night nor to the day. Therefore, I cannot seek help among the living. I no longer fit into any world."
Giles was silent, listening to his rant. Though startled by the ferocity of his words, he was deeply relieved to hear him say anything about it. The Gondorian's unnatural calm about his new life had worried him and he had wondered - feared - what would happen when he finally broke. He'd had a few restless nights fearing that it would happen on the field of battle when none would be able to stop him.
"So tell me, Giles, how am I supposed to handle this. How am I supposed to live with this?" he finished, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at him.
"I cannot tell you for I do not know how you would do so. I have no experience dealing with what you are dealing with. All I can say is that you deal with it the same way any of us do, one day at a time."
It would be easy to mock his words, so very easy. After all, he was not the one whose body and soul were constantly at war. His world had not suddenly been torn to shreds. Giles was not caught between two worlds, two identities.
And he could not for the simple fact that, trite though his words seemed, the care behind them was very real. The friendship and esteem of the man was still with him, changed though he now was. "I cannot do this."
"You can," he contradicted, "You already are."
"So do I do?"
"I would love to say trust your instincts, but I am afraid that the hunter in you is the dominant at the moment. It is only your will that stops it from taking complete control over you. But you must feed. Go to the woods, find your meal there. If you start out with animal blood, I do not believe human blood will have that much of an appeal to you."
Boromir appreciated the words - and the sentiment-behind them, but he truly doubted that it would be that easy to control. Hunger silenced any words he may have uttered. Instinct guiding him, he bolted off into the night - a full fledged, brown wolf.
"That is not good," Giles observed, chilled to the core.
All of these similarities to Dracula made him very uncomfortable. For the first time in a long time, Giles felt totally and completely inadequate and unable to handle the job. Turning to go back inside, he decided it was time to question Lindsey McDonald in more detail about the legendary vampire that, until now, he'd never really believed in.
But there were just too many strange connections between the two for him to continue to put it off. He needed to know more if he was to help the young man survive - especially since Angel was not here to deal with his error. And he wondered about Angel, what would Willow's disappearance do to the souled vampire?
He shuddered, thinking about Angelus uniting in any way with Sauron. Really, the idea was just to chilling for him to contemplate and yet, he knew that he must because it was a distinct possibility.
777
Faith sat down heavily, exhausted in body and spirit. The grim and gore of orcs clung to her skin, filling her with a sense of their pervasive evil. This did not bother her much for she ached more in her heart. The sense of betrayal twisted deep inside.
In the background, she vaguely heard Angel and Spike talking. Tired in spirit, she didn't bother to listen to them argue anymore. It was all they did now. All she could think about was that Boromir - her big brother, her comrade - was a vampire.
Souled or not, she didn't think that was what Willow wanted when she asked Aragorn to keep him safe on their journey. She couldn't believe that Angel had agreed to do it. How could he?
Dawn sat stiffly down beside her.
As much as she wished to be rid of the girl so that she could wallow in her own misery, she did nothing to drive her away.
She couldn't. They were companions in grief and loss. Yet, it was more to her than the loss of a beloved friend. Everything within her screamed for Boromir's blood - as much as it wanted to rid the world of Spike and Angel.
But, as with them, she couldn't kill him, couldn't dismiss who he was to her.
And as a Slayer, that inability to destroy the vampires hurt. It burned through her with the taste of utmost failure. She felt the failure to do her duty eat away at her, even if denying them death was the right thing to do. The worst battle, she mused, is the one within.
Dawn wrapped her arms around herself, desperately wishing Buffy was there. She did not understand what was going on - or why no one would tell her anything. All she heard was whispers and vague statements about it. It hurt to be in the dark as much here as it had at home, though at home she had the ability to research. They were fighting creatures she'd never even heard of, who frightened her in a way that living on the Hellmouth had not.
And it made her angry to be found in this place.
"I suppose you want to know what's going on, kid," Faith finally said, looking at her.
Though she bristled at the slight, Dawn nodded, adding, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble."
"Oh, no trouble at all - considering that you're to blame for all of this," she retorted.
"What? I'm to blame? Are you cracked? I'm not magic," she protested instantly.
"Well, I grant that you aren't to blame for the fight between the orcs. But you are the one that caused Glory to sink to new lows. After all, if you didn't exist, she wouldn't have sent any of us here. Let's just say that she thought Buffy would be glad to sacrifice the Key - that would be you in case you've forgotten - for our safe release. Your sister said no rather bluntly."
As outraged as she was by this, Dawn was also proud of her sister for what had to be a most difficult choice. There was no doubt in her mind that they had grown closer in the wake of their mother's death - but she had always felt that if push came to shove, Buffy would give her up to keep her friends safe. "And Glory's response to that?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"Was to send Cordy and Gunn to us," Faith replied, reluctantly proud of the way her reaction to the news. Perhaps the kid was growing up and becoming a decent human being - though she wouldn't hold her breath.
"Who all is here?"
"Everyone - and get this, Willow's a half-goddess."
Dawn's eyes bugged at that, "You have got to be kidding."
"Wish I was, kiddo," Faith said, smirking at her. "Yeah, that was her reaction as well, only it was more babbly. Giles called her a sidhe, which means she's some kind of half goddess. And he and Oz are something called daemons."
By this point, Dawn's eyes had glazed over.
"Let me also throw in one viciously arrogant and powerful spirit whose desire is for his Ring - which apparently has some wicked mojo in it, though I've yet to see any evidence of it. If he can't have that, he'll take Willow - which he's already done once and we have defeated him, so he can't be much of a threat. Add in Cordy's taken the throne of Boro's home town because the rightful heir is a bit of a coward."
Dawn stopped trying to process anything at that point, "Cordy's a queen?" she squeaked, eyes going even wider if such a thing was possible. She wasn't even going to attempt to contemplate the idea that Giles, Oz, and Willow weren't quite human. "Wasn't one world enough for her?" The unspoken question she wanted to add was, what of Boromir?
"The Queen isn't technically herself, niblet," Spike drawled from behind them. "She's possessed by an older warrior spirit of this place, seems he's got something invested in all of this. Slayer, Aragorn isn't really a coward."
Faith snorted, "Blondie, if I say Squirrel boy's a coward, he's a coward."
"Anyway, the Great Poofed One wishes to get going before we lose the trail. There's a blood trail - and it smells of hobbit."
"That's disgusting."
"No," he retorted with a fanged grin, "That's natural."
Faith rose to her feet, energized and worried. Hobbit blood…that meant either Frodo or Sam and she didn't want either of her friends to be harmed. "Let's go, kid, that path ain't getting any shorter with us sitting here."
Dawn groaned but followed them. What choice did she really have? She did not know where they were and she really had no intention of trying to find her way about on her own. "Spike, did Glory really send us here?"
"Yes - save Buffy, Fred, Wesley, Connor, and McDonald," he sneered on the name, having heard they were there from Oz. "They came after us on their own."
"The guy with the farm is here? What does he have to do with us?"
"Try firm - and he told Buffy where you were," he said.
"I know," she rolled her eyes. "Just trying to lighten things up a bit Jeeze, would it kill you to crack a smile?"
"I'm already dead, pet."
"It's just an expression, blondie bear."
Spike pulled up short and glared at the back of her head. "Niblet, if you ever call me that again, I'll…"
"What?" she challenged, looking back at him. "Come on, you'll what?"
A chilling smile crossed his face, "I'm a child of the Scourge of Europe himself. I'll think of something that has no backlash."
"Yeah, right," she scoffed, running to catch up to the others.
777
Boromir found himself staring at the walls of Gondor longingly. Everything he had ever loved was inside - and he could not enter in just yet. It was not a matter of invitation. He, unlike other vampires, did not seem to need one.
Yet, contrarily, he could not enter because he was a vampire, he was different now than he was before. Changed from the person he was before.
A light flashed in one of the rooms and he focused on it, recognizing Cordelia even from this distance. His eyes sharpened, studying her intently. Somehow, she seemed…worn down and ill. Though her color was good and she was as radiant as ever, it did not change the fact that something seemed to be very wrong with her health.
The possession was killing her. Even if the spirit was kind and generous, it was taking its toll on her.
"Yes, it is. Miss. Chase needs help - the true king must return and reclaim his throne soon." A laugh entered her voice, "Hello, Boromir, son of Gondor. I know you and have looked forward to this meeting for quite some time."
The wolf stared at her, awed for a moment by the elven beauty he had once seen before, on a mural, in one of the chambers of the royal house. Lúthien, immortal elven wife to Beren, a woman who had truly sacrificed her eternal life for mortal love. Transforming, he bowed, "It is I who am so honored, my Lady."
"Oh, you are a charmer," she laughed again before the merriness left her eyes. "Do you know why you have changed? Why it was allowed to happen when it could so easily have been stopped?"
"I had never considered that the change could have been halted through any means but death. Are you saying that this is…needless? That I should not be this way?"
"You hear well but you do not understand what you are hearing," she commented, coming closer. "This was not meant to happen but once it did, it set in motion a solution to a problem created when Beren took possession of Miss. Chase. There is a task appointed before you. She needs what you are now to survive, not only this possession - but the visions for they are becoming far stronger and more deadly. If you are not able to help her, she will die from them."
"Cordelia is one of the strongest women I know," Boromir protested. "I have benefited from her strength and courage of conviction, how can I then help her?"
"Strength comes in many forms, Boromir. She needs a different kind of strength, one more from the spirit. In your new form, you can share your strength, share your own peace of mind. What you have must be shared for only then will your own burden be lessened. Your new vitality will become her own. But if you truly do not wish to be with her, you must turn aside now. Once united, your souls will be forever intertwined. There will be no extrication from this union," she warned.
Boromir stared at her, pensively before his gaze went to her room. He could only stare numbly at it, thinking about this choice and what it would do to the both of them. But was there really any choice?
When he thought about his life outside the perpetual war he was involved in, he could see no other woman beside him but Cordelia. He knew that she wished for a ring from him - though they had never gone farther than a few kisses. There was no reason to actually demand a ring from him. He had never shown any interest in another woman - or man if it came down to it. Laugh at him though she had, he knew she was touched by his old fashioned behavior towards courting her. Not being a fool, he could admit that he had been courting her from the get go.
So, there was no real doubt in his mind anymore about where he wanted Cordy to be. Where he planned to spend the rest of his life if he was granted that privilege and right.
The question was, did she really feel the same about him? Or was this demand for a ring a joke, much as Buffy's threat to kill him had been? Thinking of Buffy, he winced. He was not neutered like Angel and Spike. She would have to kill him for he was a danger. There was no escaping that - he was a vampire and it was her duty to kill him.
"Taste no human blood and a danger you shall not become," Lúthien said. "For it is only in truly waking the demon's taste for human flesh that the change will solidify. In killing and tasting the blood of your first victim, a true vampire you will become."
He rubbed his neck, tired of trying to figure this out. "I need to see her before I make a decision. This is only partly my choice, she must have a say as well for it is her life. I cannot and I will not take that choice away from her."
"But you could," she pointed out. "No one would blame you if you did."
"I would," he said, looking her in the eye. "I would more than anyone else."
"A man of honor indeed," Lúthien murmured.
Boromir sighed, "I must return. For though Cordelia's need is great, my place is at the side of my king, Aragorn. I swore to him my allegiance and my loyalty."
"Good journey to you," she wished him, watching as he cast one last, longing look at the window before departing.
654321
Buffy, Oz, and Xander entered Dale, leaving their horses inside the gates. The town looked as though a long siege had ended with neither side a definite victor. Houses were partially burned and clothes littered the ground, along with bodies in various states of decay. Peering out at them from the shadows, hungry and scared eyes warily watched them walk by, neither approaching or fleeing from them.
Stopping in front of a monument, Oz read the plaque. "This is to commemorate the fall of the dragon, Smaug, who was defeated by the arrow of King Bain, the first."
"Another king?" Buffy groaned. "Hasn't anyone here ever heard of democracy?"
"They have greater need of a king," Oz replied, straightening up. Stiffening, his eyes focused on the far gate, "Orcs approaching."
Buffy looked at Xander, noting his already drawn sword. "Can you use that?" she asked, remembering how his sword arm had been damaged in the last fight. As far as she knew, he had not practiced since then.
"Well, we'll see," Xander replied, though his grip was uncertain.
"Follow my lead," she said, adding, "Or his-though I would not get to close to him when he's like that." They watched as Oz disappeared beyond the wall.
With a shrug, he followed her into the fray. Fear tore though him, momentarily freezing him, remembrance of his captivity raced through him. Fear could only be conquered if he was willing to meet it head on. Taking a deep breath, he released those feelings into his fighting and slammed into his first orc.
"Ouch, that's gotta hurt," he joked, moving onto the next one as quickly as he could under the circumstances. It was not easy, fighting orcs was not the same as fighting the demons of Sunnydale or sparing in practice. Yet, he would not turn away from the battle for he knew that he had to do this.
As for Buffy, her simmering frustrations were exorcised. Her sorrow over Boromir, her confusion over how to forgive and deal with his change, and her sheer anger came out, focusing her with deadly intent. Like the sharpest blade, tried in a forge, she faced her foes and yielded not an inch.
The weary men and women, tired of the long battles and the never ending carnage that rocked their little town, watched them. Stunned, shamed, and finally, taking courage from these strangers and their willingness to fight a hopeless battle. Taking heart from them, taking hope and strength, they entered the battle with sharp cries of their own.
Oz was careful even as he invested fully in what was going on. Upon the air, he could feel the exact moment the tide turned in their favor. And it was in that moment that he melted away for he could not allow their possible allies to see him as the wolf. They would not understand.
When he rejoined them, he noticed the men gathering around Buffy and Xander, talking. "We do not have much but you are welcome to join us in a meal."
Buffy opened her mouth to decline but Xander's hand on her arm warmed her. "It would be an honor," he accepted. "Perhaps during this meal, you can show us a map of the area, tell us of your history. We are travelers from the West and know little of this land we have found ourselves moving through. We are interested to learn more for we…were sent out to write of this land. And we need to learn more of the dangers and wonders we will find as we continue on."
"Ah, then you need to see Bain, grandson of Granuil, our storyteller. He will tell you all that you wish to know. In exchange, you must share your own stories of travel."
"A fair bargain," Oz quietly agreed. The trio followed the men to where the others waited inside a ruined hall, staring uncertainly at the half walls around them. The meal placed before them was, indeed, meager and they felt as thought they were stealing food from the mouths of babes.
Yet, to refuse this meal would offend their hosts.
Bain entered and looked at them, curiosity in his tired, dirty face. His hair was prematurely gray for the weight of the years rested heavily upon him. Following the example of those there, Buffy, Xander, and Oz rose when he approached, bowing respectfully to him. "Thank you for your timely aid. In these troubled days, it is appreciated far more than you can imagine. I am humbled by your courageous deeds. Whatever I can do for you, please ask. If it is within my power, I shall arrange it for you."
Oz carefully and with much deliberation, for he realized that he could not just outright ask for what they needed, said, "We wish to know about these lands and what people we shall find in our journeys. It is on the behalf of the one prophesized to bring peace to these troubled lands that we travel like this. He has sent us forth, not to compel you to his side, but to ask what you wish of him."
"Of prophesized Kings, we have no need," Bain replied, almost world wearily. There had been too much promised over time and nothing had ever come from it. "But one who will fight the darkness, this we need. Yet, I do not think this alone is your purpose. Tell me, truthfully, what is it you need of me?"
"Information about the lands to the North of the Misty Mountains," Oz said, looking him in the eye. In this, he would not evade the truth. The man deserved to know the full extent of their situation. "A friend of ours, a very dear one, has been taken there by the Witch King."
Dead silence met his words, "I know that it is a lot to ask and I would not have done so if the need was not so great. If you cannot speak of this, would you direct us to someone who can?"
"I will do better than that. I shall take you there myself for you will need a guide through those troublesome lands," Bain decided, nodding his head. "When you speak of being from the West, you mean far more than the lands of the Shire, do you not?"
"Yes," Xander slowly told him. "But there is not much we can tell you."
"It is enough that you trust me this far," he nodded. "There is not much time for us to set out today. If not for the urgency I see in your eyes, I would say that we should wait. But I can see that you do not have the time to spare. Let us get some rest this night for the journey is long and we may not have many chances for resting and eating on the road. There is precious little food to be found in times of siege and warfare."
654321
Gandalf and Pippin rode swiftly over the land, little was said between them. Holding the hobbit in his arms, he could feel the shivering but was not entirely sure if it was caused by fear or longing for the palantir. Though grateful that Saruman had yielded it to them without a fight, without causing to much trouble with it as he could so easily have done, he was angry at him for letting them have such a poisonous thing.
If he had not, Gandalf would not have to worry over the youth's mind. The affect of the palantir upon a ready mind was uncertain at best but to an open, innocent mind, the results could be catastrophic. For the first time since his return, he had no way of knowing how to proceed - he did not take the actions of the outsiders to be any of his real concern.
All of his knowledge was nothing in the face of this.
Guilt swamped him, an utterly foreign feeling for him in this new form. One he was not sure how to handle. If he had not insisted upon having Merry and Pippin journey with them, this would not have happened. He had known from personal experience how curious, how inquisitive this particular hobbit was.
"Gandalf, I am sorry," Pippin's quiet and contrite voice broke into his thoughts. "I was just so worried about Boromir. I thought that ball would tell me what was wrong with him. I did not mean to turn Sauron's eye upon me like that."
The Istari sighed, "I know you meant no harm, young Pippin. But you must learn to think before you do something."
Pippin was silent. He knew Gandalf was right but Boromir was a friend, a big brother to him, and he was hurt far more than anyone knew - or would admit to.
Shadowfax suddenly pulled up, shocking them out of their thoughts. Running towards them was a large wolf - larger than any Pippin had ever seen. He pressed further back into Gandalf's comforting warmth and waited tensely, unsure of the wizard's next act.
Both were unprepared when the wolf stopped and inclined his head as though greeting them.
They watched it pass, heading for Rohan. "Gandalf, should you not stop it?" Pippin hesitantly broke the silence.
Pulling thoughtfully on his chin, he shook his head. "This is something Aragorn must deal with for it is a result of his decision."
Pippin asked, "What do you mean?"
For the longest time, Pippin did not think he would not receive an answer. A long, resigned sigh escaped Gandalf, recognizing that Pippin had the right of an answer from him, "That, Pippin, was none other than Boromir."
"What?" Pippin's voice squeaked on the question he could not finish.
"Boromir was mortally wounded trying to protect you and Merry. Aragorn foolishly let his fear of losing his friend and Steward over rule his conscience. In a moment of blind panic, he blackmailed Angel into turning him into a vampire. Our world seems to have influenced the very nature of his vampire for he is not like Spike or Angel."
"But he acts like Boromir," he whispered, trying to make sense of what Gandalf was telling him.
Gandalf urged Shadowfax forward, "He still has his soul. There is a slight loophole because of the curse on Angel and Aragorn took advantage of it."
"He did not have that right," he angrily said, swiping away the tears on his face.
"No, he did not," a sweet, low voice spoke to them. Gandalf pulled them to a stop once more. "But you do not have the right to judge Aragorn for his actions - nor do you, Gandalf, mighty though you are. There are things behind this that the Valar have a hand in. The man of Gondor's task is not yet done."
"Lady Lúthien," Gandalf breathed. "What is this you speak of?"
"It is none of your concern unless Boromir chooses to ask for your help. Your task is the one that awaits you in Gondor, not continual worry over things that are not in your hands. Boromir is under my guidance and protection. I will direct his path as far as he will let me. But in the end, the decision is his to make, without pressure from us and those he loves," her voice was firm. "Go your way, Gandalf, and take the young hobbit to safety and to his task."
Shadowfax leaped into action, for once ignoring any commands Gandalf may have uttered, if he had been so inclined. But the Istari was lost in thought. Pippin clung desperately to the arm holding him steady, mind awhirl with all the revelations of the day. Who was that beautiful and fair woman? And of what position did she have that she could order Gandalf about?
What was really going on with Boromir?
But these thoughts disappeared as he recalled the words she had directed towards him. What was this task she spoke of him that he was to do? He was no knight or mighty warrior, what could he do when he messed everything up? Not only was he small in stature, he was clumsy and too curious by far, he could get in trouble in an empty room.
Dourly he wondered if he would be asked to join the enemy army. If anyone could mess them up, it would be him. In all likelihood, he would destroy Sauron's entire forces that way.
654321
Sam, Frodo, and Gollum paused, awed by the sight of the blaze shadowed by darkness that dominated the landscape. Nervously fingering the Ring, Frodo expelled a breath. Looking away, he focused on the path before him, the weight about his neck strangling him. "Help me, Sam," he whispered, unable to move.
"Master?" he asked, confused.
"Help me remember why," he replied, voice still quiet in amidst the roaring sound of the fires of Mount Doom. "Tell me why I am dong this. Why are we here? Remind me what is at stake if I falter. Because I can no longer see my task."
Sam did not know what to say for he did not understand what Frodo was asking him for. "You are doing this because only you can, Master Frodo," he tried. "Because you love Master Bilbo and he cannot."
"But why?" he pleaded, stumbling on the rocky path before him. "Why are you with me even now as we journey into this dark and foreboding land? Why do you stay with me after all I have said, all I have done to you?"
"Where else would I be but at your side, Master Frodo?" he asked simply. "You are my friend and I love you. I would never leave you to face this task alone."
Frodo stared at him, weighing his honesty and his sincerity. "Does the Ring not tempt you?"
Sam's head shook, "I would be an unfaithful friend if I lied and said that I am immune to It. But It does not tempt me enough to surpass my love of green, growing things. I want to see these," he pulled out one of the white seeds the Lady had given him, "Planted so that our friends back home may enjoy their beauty. The Ring cannot give me that."
Frodo reached out and touched it reverently before sighing, "I do not have anything like this."
"You have me, Master Frodo. I will carry you if that is what you need of me," Sam offered freely. "But if you need a reason that you can see and feel, look at Gollum - at Sméagol. Do it for him, to free him from the curse of the Ring. Do it for yourself, to live with out fear of this place and the evil that lives in the Ring."
The two started up the mountain, following the rapidly disappearing Gollum. They steadily climbed, finding their own path. "Thanks, Sam," he finally said. He still did not feel comfortable with his task as it continued to grow heavier upon him but somehow, knowing that his friend was there, his task became easier to bear.
"For what?" he asked, puzzled.
"Being here," was the sincere reply.