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Twice the sun had come and fallen on the six companions as they traveled upon the Plains. They moved as quickly as they could, Aragorn taking the lead. The ranger was lost in his tracking skill as he read the ground beneath him for Legolas's trail, never breaking his focus or his silence.

The company had only stopped upon Gimli's insistence that the hobbits needed food and rest. Even then it had been a short rest, barely enough for all to eat quickly and sleep but for an hour. The food and rest had done little to refresh the fellowship, even Pippin seemed to be lacking in appetite. The full weight of events was finally taking their tolls upon each member of the company, sucking the life from them and leaving them in an uncomfortable silence. Aragorn seemed to shut himself down to everyone else, working only on his tracking. Gimli continued to grumble about the 'grand idiocy of the elf' and how a dwarf would have had the sense the run when he was told to, but it was evident that his heart wasn't into it. Like Aragorn, the dwarf turned to his old habits to keep his mind off of the horrible turn of events. Merry and Pippin tried halfheartedly to keep up a glib conversation but lapsed into dismal silence when each attempt failed. Sam's normal cheer was dulled and faded as he tended to Frodo, trying to give the young hobbit hope that things would still be alright, but if Frodo heard him he made no mention of it. The young hobbit had been silent for two days straight.

Frodo knew there was no hope. He had seen how fast the Nazgul's steeds could ride. The elf could very well be at the gates of Mordor by the time they caught up to him. The blood in the young hobbit's veins suddenly ran ice cold as a shiver ran down his spine. Even if they managed to catch up to Legolas, what then? Aragorn had seemed so hopeful that once they removed the ring from the elf's finger that all would be well. Frodo was sure that that single hope was what pushed the ranger on his quest without food and sleep. He wanted to believe in Aragorn's words, wanted to so desperately. The elven prince had pledged his life to helping Frodo. While they hadn't talked much during the trip, Frodo had grown to like Legolas. The elf kept to himself but always had a warm smile whenever their eyes met. He had also saved his life from the Watcher at the gates of Moria. To lose him to the ring...

It plagued the young hobbit to think of what would be left of the noble elf when they found him . . . if they found him. The rest of the fellowship could not know of the ring's terrible power, not like he knew it. They couldn't hear its voice. They didn't know how much effort it took to shut it out. No one in the fellowship knew how much Frodo felt himself slip away with each day that he bore the ring. It clenched at his lungs to think of what the ring must be doing to Legolas now. More than ever Frodo wanted to believe that Legolas could be saved from the ring's evil. He needed to believe it, for then he could start to believe that he himself could be saved.

Lost in his reverie Frodo didn't see the large rock in his path until it tripped him. A strong, meaty hand caught him in his fall and stood him upon his feet again. "Careful there, lad!" Gimli's gruff voice sounded in his ear as the dwarf steadied the young hobbit, "You should heed where your feet step. If we continue in this direction we should be near the cliffs in a few days and it wouldn't do to have you walking over the ledge of one!"

Right now, the thought didn't sound too terrible to the young hobbit. "I'm sorry, Gimli," he sighed.

The dwarf gave a huff and a smile. "No need to be sorry, Master Baggins," he replied. The smile left his face as a look of concern replaced it. His voice dropped as to escape the ears of the others. "You've barely slept since we left Lothlorien, much less eaten. It is no wonder that you are distracted."

"I am alright," Frodo lied. "It is worry that keeps me distracted."

"Ah," Gimli sighed. The young hobbit studied the dwarf's face for a reaction. Since the journey had begun Gimli had nothing but words of disdain for the elf, and the elf for him. Even now as they tracked Legolas's trail the dwarf had continued his grumblings although with less zeal. Did Gimli worry for the elf as well? It was hard to tell in such a stoic face but an unease in his eyes belied his fear. Frodo's eyes widened. The dwarf was actually worried about Legolas! "No need to worry, lad. That elf's neck is much too stiff to be turned by the ring." The dwarf grunted. "Ring of evil it may be, but that wooly-headed elf is the most stubborn, most troublesome creature on the face of Middle Earth. It wouldn't surprise me, Master Baggins, if that ring isn't trying to run from him as we speak to save its own sanity!"

Frodo gave a half-hearted chuckle at Gimli's words. He tried to picture it in his mind and it made him laugh a little more.

The smile returned to the dwarf's face. "Ah, lad, it's good to hear you laugh again."

The young hobbit returned Gimli's smile. "Thank you, Gimli."

The dwarf nodded and the two continued to follow Aragorn. "Do not worry, lad. He'll be alright, even if I have to cut that damned ring off of his finger."

"Why Gimli," Frodo replied in mock reproach, "if I didn't know you better I would think that you like that idea!"

"Would serve him right," Gimli grumbled, "Maybe missing a finger will serve as a reminder that the next time a dwarf tells him to run to heed his words!"

The young hobbit chuckled and soon the two fell into a comfortable silence as they followed Aragorn. But at night started to blot out the day the hope in Frodo's heart began to fall to despair. In the light of the rising moon the young hobbit pulled out the fading white lily from his pocket. The petals were growing even more shriveled and blacker.

They had to hurry.