A cheery note from the authoresses:

Hi all. Here's the next chapter of "Brothers in Arms" for your enjoyment. Standard disclaimers apply, Tolkien owns all, we own nothing, blah blah blah...don't sue. Also, after much confusion, swearing, and blowing up of computers, we've still not figured out how to use italics in HTML. Grr... So we've reverted to the tried-and-true method for the computer-illiterate: Flashbacks are between slashes ( /.../).

A truckload of thanks goes out to all our reviewers, whom we love most dearly. A couple of answers to review questions:

Europa: The prologue is one of the shortest chapters, so yes, the song is probably going to last longer. You could always write a longer review, raving about how much you love this story, until the song ends...gives best Pippin cheeky smile.

Emryn: Felix Baker and Frodo Baggins, the same person? Gasp, a conspiracy is afoot here (isn't afoot a great word?). Just wait and see...

Samus: Legolas tends to live anywhere and everywhere. He is the wanderer, after all. Besides, random black cars aside, there isn't much around that can hurt him. Too badly, at least (all three Nightrunners grin evilly). He spends more of his time concerned with other people, such as Mrs. Briggs.

Oh, and kudos to those of you who picked up on the Galadriel and Elizabeth I reference. Cate Blanchett played an award-winning Queen Elizabeth. Who knows? Maybe she was there...

And, without further ado, we bring you...Chapter Five.

Enjoy,

The Nightrunners

A Light from the Shadows

Felix unlocked the door to the apartment with shaking hands. That was insane, what he had witnessed tonight, but he had seen it so clearly. He wished Sam had been there as well, but his best friend was presently three blocks down at the hole-in-the-wall diner where he worked part-time.

If he couldn't have Sam, he would have settled for Mark or Peter, not so practical and down to earth, but at least he wouldn't presently be entertaining thoughts of insanity. "Why is it always me?" he whispered as he finally got the door open.

The room was dark and stuffy, as neither Felix nor Sam had been there all day. He found himself longing for Sam, wishing he were waiting in the dark kitchen with hot coffee. Then Felix could have sat and confided the startling events of the night, and the frightening emotions that had gripped him.

But hadn't it always been this way? Even when they were children, Sam had been the one who would sit and listen patiently, never judging, but always managing to make things better. A ten-year-old Felix had found the young Sam, perhaps eight, wandering around Necropolis, with apparently no idea of how he had come to be there. If he remembered a life before Felix, he had never shared his memories of that time.

Felix had decided he couldn't turn this teary eyed child to the streets once more, so he had kept the younger boy beside him and had taught him to survive in Necropolis. /...Don't talk to anybody, Sam. There's nobody we can trust here except each other. And whatever you do, don't go out after dark. When the sun goes down, we find a safe hiding place and stay there til morning. Don't go outside, Sam, or the magic will get you../

They had later moved past their childish fear of the dark, though if you weren't vigilant, the prowling nighttime magical creatures of Necropolis would get you. That is, if the street gangs didn't get you first.

Then, as a teenager, the nightmares had started. Terrifying images that flew through Felix's mind whenever he went to sleep: running, running so fast he thought his lungs would burst. Screaming shadows that followed him wherever he went. And always, black tendrils of poison crept into his mind, invading his every thought...

He would wake up drenched in sweat, clutching the thin blankets he shared with Sam, but he could never remember what had frightened him so.

He tried to hide the nightmares from Sam (who thankfully slept like a log), thinking them to be a sign of weakness, unforgivable to street kids like them. He refused to speak of them, even as the dark circles under his eyes became more pronounced, and he was left with jabbering voices in the back of his mind, which became intangible as smoke whenever he tried to hear them clearly.

Then, one night, he had woken up yet again, mind clouded with dread, and had seen Sam watching him. His friend had lain awake all night to find out what was wrong. And Felix, touched by this act of friendship, had shamefully revealed the secret. He had another fear now, that Sam would disdain him and leave him alone once more. This was as bad to Felix, if not worse, than the nightmare-induced panic.

But Sam had surprised him. Wordlessly, he had wrapped his arms around Felix, possibly the first hug he had ever received. And abandoning all thoughts of weakness, Felix had hugged him back tightly.

Together, they had survived and even triumphed over the streets. They had close friends, a place to live, and their music. Neither the gangs, the thieves, nor the cold had killed them.

And so, he wished desperately for his best friend and lover. Sam would have understood the feelings, so similar to those of his nightmares, when he had seen the blond man get hit by the car.

Almost without thinking, he headed for the one item of value in the cramped dwellings, apart from their instruments. His music player sat unobtrusively in one corner, but the entire room was wired for sound, and it was the one indulgence Felix allowed himself. His extensive album collection was stacked neatly beside it, and he automatically reached for one particular chip.

It had nearly been impossible to download the ancient song onto the chip. Felix had searched forever for a digital pattern that was compatible with his music system. Nobody listened to the old "classic" rock anymore.

He slid the chip into the player, and leaned back on the battered couch and closed his eyes as the first simple guitar melody began. He imagined Sam sitting in the corner, plucking out the song. But even if Sam could play the song, nobody would listen to it. No one cared about Led Zepplin these days. He was a big hit eighty years ago, for God's sake.

"There's a lady who's sure

All that glitters is gold

And she's buying the stairway to heaven.

When she gets there she knows

If the stores are all closed

With a word she can get what she came for..."

Felix had stumbled across the song, quite by accident, a number of years ago on a truly ancient CD player. Something about the song evoked in him a feeling of longing, and inexplicable loss.

"There's a feeling I get

When I look to the west

And my spirit is crying for leaving..."

In a way, it was similar to his nightmare, which lately had seemed to come with greater frequency. When he heard this song, with its frantic melody, the jabbering voices of his dream almost spoke clearly enough for him to hear.

The singer's voice rose to a shriek, and Felix heard the pounding drums and wailing guitar screaming their own truths.

"And as we wind on down the road

Our shadows taller than our soul.

There walks a lady we all know

Who shines white light and wants to show

How everything still turns to gold.

And if you listen very hard

The tune will come to you at last..."

Felix shot up abruptly. The song continued, but he didn't hear another word of it. Perhaps it was the combination of twisted events of the night, and the words of the singer, but for a second, he heard one of the voices quite plainly. 'All that is gold does not glitter. Not all those who wander are lost.'

His blue eyes widened, the words were familiar, but clouded, as if he had heard them as a child and long since forgotten. He strained to hear the rest. "The old that is strong..." he whispered, trailing off helplessly, as the voice descended back into the constant babble.

"No!" he whispered fiercely, fighting to remember to words. "NO!" he shouted.

He gave a scream of pure fury, collapsed back to the couch, and didn't move. The song continue on its endless loop, but there was nobody listening.

And that was how Sam found him when he entered the apartment, six hours later.