I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters

This is the start of my version of the fourth book of The Lord of the Rings. Although this story may not follow the Appendixes in the back of Return of the King, I tried to keep as close to the story as I could. Please let me know what you think, ideas and constructive critisism are always appreciated.

Chapter 3

Frodo Baggins felt his exhausted limbs collapse underneath him as his weary body decided that it could take no more. He felt himself falling, tumbling down into some unknown doom, and then everything was still.

After what seemed an incredibly long time his breathing began to come in more even breaths instead of gasps that shook his entire body and left him dizzy and nauseous. He managed to open his eyes and immediately shut them again as the bright sunlight poured into his vision.

When he felt that he could sit up, Frodo used his hand to shield his eyes from the beaming light and peered around. He saw that he had fallen into a muddy ditch at the roadside and was lying on a heap of mouldy leaves. Listening to his racing heart, Frodo allowed himself to lay back down to regain his strength and try to straighten out his thoughts.

The previous days had been unlike any that Frodo had ever experienced. The night he had awoken on the ship had been the start of a journey he had never for a moment expected the day he left for the Grey Havens.

After his vivid nightmare, Frodo had fled the ship in fear. The ocean had been freezing, like blades stabbing him all over, but somehow he had managed to swim to shore where he succeeded in stealing a horse. The horse had been swift and he had covered a great distance in a short amount of time, but he had become so tired that he could no longer keep upright on his steed, so the horse soon unsaddled him and took off back into the wilderness. Frodo had then been forced to stumbled on alone, with no clear notion of where he was heading. He had the faint idea in his head that his destination was the Shire, simply because of one memory that kept tugging at his mind. He remembered being in Mordor with Sam on the last day of their quest when his hope had long departed and his body was drained of strength and will to go on. He remembered when the desire to put on the Ring had become so strong that he could not withstand it and Sam had put his hands palm to palm and held them between his own, determined not the give up on his master. Frodo knew that he must get to Sam.

He found it difficult to explain, even to himself, what was happening. Ever since his dream he had felt something pulling him, dragging him by some unseen force to the place where he dreaded to go. It was as if icy fingers were tearing at his skin and forcing him against his will, and to fight their incessant grip was almost too much for him to bear. But that was what he had been doing, and quite plainly it was leaving him weak and helpless.

The thoughts in Frodo's head were still muddled so he spoke aloud to try and work the puzzle out,

"Gollum has the ring. The ring is making me feel like I have to go back to Mordor."

As the word Mordor escaped his lips, Frodo shuddered and felt more defenceless than before. He needed someone to help him. He needed a friend.

"Sam..." He mumbled, but his eyes would not stay open a minute longer, and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

***

After the three hobbits had bathed and eaten, Elrond escorted them to a large, cavernous hall that was lit by dozens upon dozens of candles. The ceiling rose high above their heads and disappeared into a vast, black void above them. The candles threw shadows off the walls and made the hall look perhaps more impressive than anything the hobbits had ever seen.

At the far end of the hall there stood several chairs and amidst the chairs sat a large and regal throne. Sitting in the throne was Aragorn, looking older than the hobbits had ever seen him but with an expression of kindly wisdom upon his lined and knowing face. Beside Aragorn's throne stood another figure, adorned in pure white robes and leaning on a staff.

"Strider! Gandalf!" Sam cried, his voice echoing from the walls. He ran to meet his old friends with a happy smile, but when he reached them, so splendid did they look that he didn't rush to embrace them but fell to one knee and bowed his head. Merry and Pippin did the same, kneeling a little further behind Sam.

"Samwise," Gandalf said, his face grave but a slight and familiar twinkle in his eye, "You should not feel that you must kneel for us, if anything myself and Aragorn should be bowing for you."

"I beg your pardon sir," Sam mumbled, raising his eyes to the old wizard that towered over him. Gently Gandalf reached out and pulled Sam to his feet,

"Samwise, it is good to see you again."

Sam smiled, suddenly relaxing the prescience of his old friends. Aragorn rose from the throne and embraced each of the hobbits in turn.

"This should be a joyous occasion," He told them, indicating for them to sit, "But you know why we are here, and I cannot seem to even raise so much as a smile because of it."

"Indeed," Gandalf nodded, sitting down himself beside Merry, "I myself have been incredibly worried since Frodo's distressing disappearance, and Aragorn and I felt it might be easier to find him with the help of his friends."

"Forgive me Gandalf, but how did you come to be here?" Pippin suddenly asked curiously and Gandalf smiled,

"When I learnt that Frodo was missing, I knew that I must seek help from friends before I went searching for him. I headed for Rivendell, riding on the back of the same creature that saved Sam and Frodo's lives in Mordor."

"Of course, Gwaihir," Sam said and Gandalf nodded.

"So has there been any news of Frodo?" Merry asked the two men and they exchanged a knowing glance.

"No, not yet," Aragorn eventually said, "But there has been news of Gollum."

The hobbits stared worriedly and Gandalf continued,

"Smeágol has been sighted not too far from Rivendell. An elf caught a fleeting glimpse of a thin, lank haired creature creeping along the roadside a few miles from here, but before he could do anything the creature vanished, as if into mid-air. We believe that Gollum is heading for the Shire, where he believes that Frodo is."

"But Gollum was killed!" Sam protested, "He fell into Mount Doom with the ring..."

He trailed off his sentence and his eyes widened,

"You're not suggesting, you don't think that the ring is...?"

Aragorn's face became even more sombre,

"I found a piece of old parchment in records going back thousands upon thousands of years to when the ring was forged," He explained, "It said that in the unlikely event that the ring was destroyed, the powers would be banished but the ring would still be whole. The parchment said that if the last creature to bear the ring found it after its powers had gone, the ring would be given one final power. It would give the bearer an oppurtunity to seek revenge on an enemy."

"So Gollum is out to kill Frodo?" Pippin asked, looking perplexed.

The silence that followed answered his question.

"What can we do?" Sam asked after a while, breaking everyone's thoughts.

"We have hatched a plan," Aragorn replied, "But I do not know if it will work. We do not believe that Smeágol will have reached the Ford yet, so if we can identify his where-abouts we can trap him from either side of the Ford and kill him. Then we will go about locating Frodo. It is not destined to suceed, but we will do what we can."

"Then we will help," Merry told him boldly, "We will do all that we can to ensure that this terrible creature is put to rights."

The other hobbits nodded agreeably and the trace of a smile played across Aragorns lips,

"Hobbits, you have not lost your loyalty or bravery and I will be more than grateful if you were to aid us in this plan. I'm sorry to have dragged you from your homes like this."

"We would do anything to help Mr.Frodo," Sam replied, "And I wouldn't have said no to a few nights at Rivendell anyway!"

***

Next chapter up soon