Heyyyyy ! I'm back !!! So sorry for the delay... I hope you'll like this !

Frodo was gently woken up by a soft touch on his shoulder. Normally, this wouldn't have been enough to awake the young Hobbit, but well... This journey had made him able to get up at the slightest touch or noise (which wasn't very convenient to get some proper rest)

"My apologies for waking you, Master Hobbit, but it is time to go." spoke the now familiar voice of Deveron.

"Already ?" whispered Frodo in a still sleepy voice.

"I am afraid so. The night has fallen. We cannot waste any more time." said the man in a pitiful voice. Surely he had noticed the huge bags under the young Hobbit's sleepy eyes.

"Of course." answered Frodo, slowly turning around to push himself up. But he must have done so slightly carelessly, for the Ring slowly slid out of his shirt to be left hanging on Frodo's neck, right in front of Deveron's eyes.

Immediately, the man's eyes locked on the shiny object and the young Hobbit easily recognised the shadow of great envy in his gaze, so he hastily put the Ring back into his shirt.

Yet, before he could realise what was happening, Frodo felt a pair of strong hands closing around his neck, not allowing any air to enter his lungs. The Hobbit's eyes opened wide when he realised the hands belonged to the Second in Command of the Rangers.

"DEVERON !" a blurry voice shouted as Frodo's vision clouded itself.

Then suddenly a sharp cry cut through the air, and the hands immediately released the poor Hobbit, who fell limply on the stone floor of the cave they were staying in.

Fighting against lightheadedness and desperately attempting to catch a proper breath, Frodo slowly lifted his head up from the floor. His eyes were immediately caught by the blurry form of Sméagol, who had jumped onto Deveron's back, and was now kicking and bitting the poor Ranger.

"Nasty man can't touch the Hobbit !" the blurred voice of the creature reached Frodo's ears before the young Hobbit finally succumbed to darkness.

He did not woke up before the group reached Minas Morgul...

Sméagol did not know if it was supposed to be happy or angered...

It had been hit hard by the Wizard and the other men in that cold cave, but it had been worth it... The nasty man had tried to steal the Precious and hurt the nice Hobbit !

Sméagol liked the nice Hobbit, and hated the man for choking him. But above all, it despised him for only having desired to take the Precious !

And so, as Sméagol had seen the man fall on his knees and cry in front of the body of the nice Hobbit... It couldn't help the grin that illuminated its face for a moment. How delightful this had been... Men were so weak...

Sméagol turned around. The man was walking behind him, carrying the nice Hobbit in his arms. The man's eyes were all red and wet. He had insisted on carrying the small being since it was all his fault. And it definitely was his fault. Yes it was. No matter what the Wizard had said. It was his fault. All his fault.

And now, Sméagol was very worried that the Hobbit would not wake before the group reached Her... That would ruin all of Sméagol's plan...

It needed the Hobbit awake and aware... Otherwise, the men would stay around him...

And there they were... Finally... This had not been a moment Gandalf had been particularly looking forward to...

Cirith Ungol... "The Pass of the Spider"...

Minas Morgul... The corrupted tower, ruled now by the some of the only beings capable of surpassing the Wizard : The Nazgûls.

Surely they were aware that their enemy wasn't in his best shape...

For indeed, Gandalf was weary, exhausted, weak... And no matter how hard he tried to hide it, he could see in his companions's eyes that they knew...

And now they also had an unconscious Frodo to care about... The Wizard wasn't even powerful enough to heal him properly... This was the price to pay if he wanted to continue this journey until the end.

Gandalf hadn't yelled at Deveron for what he had done. He couldn't. He did not have the strengths. And that look on the young man's face...

Oh how could have someone created such an evil ? Capable of corrupting even the purest souls ? How was it possible ?

Gandalf was suddenly brought out of his thoughts by a soft moan coming from the small being resting in Deveron's arms...

The Ring knew He was close... It was trying to wake Frodo up...

Lying on his bed, in his tent, Aragorn simply couldn't find sleep. He was ruminating... For the past few days had been days we could call... Eventful. Eventful, yes. That was the word.

First, there had been Legolas, grabbing the Palantír... This was a sight one could not easily forget... An Elf, a proud, tall and seemingly unbreakable being, suddenly destroyed by desire, fear, and an unmeasurable pain... Alas, Aragorn knew very well why the Elf's soul was torn this way... Truth to be told, he himself had also, sometimes, let his hand drift slowly toward the sphere. Yet he had not touched it, for he knew Arwen, his loved one, was safe.

Legolas, on the other hand, did not...

At least, this incident had provided the small army valuable informations on Mordor's army whereabouts. They knew now that they would have to reach Gondor as soon as possible (Boromir had made this quite clear), and also that they probably needed much more soldiers than they had now, or even the great Army of Dead wouldn't be enough...

They could only hope that Rohan fighters would answer the call of their King.

Unconsciously, as if to ease his worries, Aragorn began to gently rub the area where his leg had been injured before, wincing slightly at the still very present pain.

But the lack of soldiers was not the most pressing matter at the moment... The most important thing was that Aragorn was supposed to convince the Army of Dead to rally Rohan's cause... Alas, he did not know the way to do this... He had absolutely no proof that he was, indeed, the Heir of Isildur...

"My Lord," a Rohirrim suddenly appeared in his tent, getting the Ranger out of his thoughts and doubts, "King Théoden needs to speak with you about a matter of the highest importance."

As soon as he saw his foster brother enter the tent, Elladan got up. The two stared at each other for some time. Aragorn's face was filled with surprise and maybe a hint of fear... But that quickly was replaced by a bright smile as the two brothers gave each other a fond embrace, not even paying attention to Théoden, standing a few feets away from them.

"What are you doing here ?" asked Aragorn, backing slightly from his foster brother to face him plainly.

At those words, the Elf directed a quick nod to Théoden, who immediately nodded back before leaving the tent.

"I am here on the behalf of Ada. We have something for you..."

Aragorn quirked an eyebrow at his foster brother as the Elf brought a hand under his dark cloak.

"The Sword of Elendil was forged anew by Elvish smiths..." said he as he unsheathed a long sword. Very bright, it was, as the cold light of the moon shone onto it.

"Narsíl is no more," continued Elladan as he handed the reforged blade to the Ranger, "This is Andúril, Flame of the West. Take it, and become the Man you were born to be !"

Aragorn's eyes flew from the elven crafted sword to the Elf's eyes... He had never looked so serious and solemn than at this precise moment...

Slowly, eyes locked with Elladan's, Aragorn brought his hands closer to the base, and, as he closed his fingers around it, some kind of bizarre feeling filled his body... As if something inside himself had been suddenly set free...

Immediately after, Elladan put one of his knees on the ground, and declared :

"Long live the King..."

"Has Arwen sailed ?"

"Are you truly asking me ? Of course she hasn't, what did you expect ?"

"I simply hoped-..."

"Hoped ? Hoped what ? Your mind hoped she would sail, but not your heart, and hers neither."

A long silence settled between the two brothers.

"She is not doing well, Estel..."

"What do you mean ?"

"This evil is draining her strengths, slowly but ineluctably..."

"Will she be alright ?"

"I do not know, brother, I do not know... Her fate is bound to the one of Middle-Earth..."

Aragorn lowered his head, and a sparkling tear slowly rolled down his cheek. Elladan grabbed his shoulder to comfort his foster brother, vainly attempting to hide his own tears...

"It was her wish to have this sword reforged..." said the Elf.

Nothing else needed to be said, so the King suddenly got up, a look of determination on his face.

"Where are you going ?" asked Elladan in surprise.

"To find an Army."

"And I'm coming with you."

Standing on the edge of the cliff they had settled camp on, Éowyn was staring at the horizon. She was worried. Oh yes she was... She had so many things to be worried about...

First, the army. She knew all too well that they weren't enough, and no matter how many times had her uncle repeated that more would come, she was starting to doubt...

Secondly, staying hidden and unnoticed was getting harder and harder... She had to wear her helmet all day long and hide herself every night... Éomer had nearly caught her once, but she had managed to escape. Barely, but she had.

The third thing that was worrying her was the fact that Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had disappeared into the night with that other person that had just joined them. Half of the soldiers believed they had fled, and the other half believed there was a good reason for this... But it had been so sudden... And now, the sun was already high in the sky, and they weren't back... They should've been by now...

Just as she thought that, almost as if the sky had hear her, the sound of horses echoed in the horizon. The Lady turned around, to find the familiar faces of four riders, followed closely by some kind of green mist that slowly turned into the forms of skeletons.

"They're back !" cried the soldiers, "TO VICTORY !!!"