Disclaimer: AU Story. My third large LOTR fic. I can't stop! None of the characters or settings are mine. They all belong to Tolkien. I wish I were related to Tolkien, don't you? It would be so cool! Oh, and the plot here is derived from my own imagination. Hope you enjoy.

Mistoffelees: Hillbillies from Bree? I've gotta read about that! Bombadil was never a major character for me but he wasn't too bad here. Oh thank you for putting me in your favourites *blushes*

TrueFan: *teacher whirls round and whips off disguise* And HERE children is LONG *children gasp and scream and run around in circles calling for their mum* I see, you could no longer resist the call of food...D'aw, I like Ematen too, he's fun to write about. Aw! Wierdness! Now, I can read your reviews and pretend they're in your voice! Your accent is so cool!

Shirebound: Glad you liked those lines! I was piecing that last chapter together in one liners. Hehe. *blushes crimson* Thank you! It's just so nice to be able to write and then have others tell you what they think. It's just lovely that so many people are enjoying it. Oh yes, I always get that spelling wrong. Thanks!

MagicalRachel: Ah, you found me out. The "inner angst" you might say. Don't worry, I'll attempt not to attack any hobbitses for a time. Am I quite renown, then, for having torturous stories?

Crazytook: Sam is playing a bigger part in this than Frodo now! But am really happy that you're enjoying it. More Mez and Pipz to come for you!

Koko Kung: Yay- I tried hard for you! And yes, I will update a lot more for when you return. And more piccies from you!

BIGGEST FRODO/ELIJAH WOOD FAN: Aaaah! No, your name! It's big and scary and- did you take your brother and sister off? Aw, it's sibling love. But I reckon you'll have a lot of angry fangirls (and even boys) chasing after you in no time at all

Radia: Pleased you're liking this! I know, I had to let Bombadil go because I really cannot write him properly. Ah- that's a brilliant observation. I never thought about that *slaps own hand* I suppose, though, when we have shoes on, our feet still get cold and they're not even wearing socks, poor lambs! But yes, thank you for pointing that out. And I do appreciate it. It's not stupid- a good question.

My word, 123 reviews? That is just amazing! I never fail to be astounded at how lovely you all are!

~ Chapter Nineteen ~

Legolas was drifting between sleep and waking. He focused on one and drew himself up out of the night around him. It was light. Pale morning drifted down like snowflakes around him. The elf blinked. It was snow. And rain. It pattered down into his upturned face, seeping down his cheeks, making him wince. His back was throbbing painfully and he could feel every bone in his body creak as he got up into a sitting position. His head reeled and he reached out to steady himself. His hand came down on a helmet jutting up out of the snow. Legolas recoiled in terror. Everything came racing back to his confused mind. The fall and their desperate attempt to escape. And the scream.

"Gimli!" he called. He pulled the helmet out of the snow and clutched to him. "Gimli!" he shouted again, his voice echoing over the mountains. He got shakily to his feet and looked round. The gully was almost completely filled with snow, dark heads of boulders erupting at various points all round it. The cave was utterly destroyed. Legolas, in a panic, ran down into the deeper slush, digging with his shaking hands. Elves barely feel the change in temperature but he knew hat dwarves did. This could kill him. If he was not dead already. Legolas felt the first terrible pang of grief bite at his heart. There was a quiet groan beside his feet. The elf fell to his knees in the snow and gazed round. The night part swallowed the landscape but with the pale light of the moon, he was able to make out a shape against the white backdrop.

He half-crawled, half-stumbled over to the body stretched out limply on the ground. Gimli was almost entirely covered with stone and shale and he was dusted with snow so thickly, Legolas was amazed that he had found him at all.

"Gimli," he croaked, struggling to focus on his companion, "Gimli, wake up! Please...wake up! Gimli! Gimli!"

The dwarf twitched and a spasm went through his body. He groaned again and Legolas felt relief flood through him.

"Gimli, are you hurt?" he breathed, "Come, wake up! Can you see me? Can you hear me?"

Gimli made to reply but cried out in pain. His hands flew under the snow to grasp at his legs. Legolas tried to lift him but it was impossible. The stones were holding him down. One by one, the elf lifted each rock gently off his friend who moaned in protest. But Legolas had no other choice. They had to get away from this dangerous spot and find proper shelter. The night was chill and filled him with dread. What was out in that darkness? At last, he was able to pull the last of the rocks away and Gimli let out a long sigh. Legolas examined his friend quickly. He was breathing heavily, gasping and wincing with each breath. It was agony just to see.

"Come, my friend, let us get you out of here," Legolas soothed, cradling the dwarf in his arms. He ran blearily up out of the gully and back onto the plain. An eerie wind was howling round the mountains. It swept past so swiftly that it nearly took both companions down. But the elf struggled vainly on, in the direction he hoped was still south. His mind still quavered and his wounds were making themselves known with excruciating pain. His face felt as though it were burning with all the cuts that raked down it and his perspiration made it sting all the worse. He grimaced but forced his way on, ever searching the horizon for a tree or bush that might serve as a refuge. But none came. It was as though the only world that existed now was that of the Misty Mountains and the wide plain here.

"Let us put our hope in a miracle, Gimli," Legolas said, "Or just a horse. I wonder where he has got to."

Another howling of wind echoed nearby. But it was mingling with more sounds. More noises. A different howl went up, piercing the night's canopy. Wargs.

--

"Will we have to cross over all that?" Sam asked, gazing out across the snowy wilderness. A new voice answered him.

"Aye. Sorry, lads, but there was a storm yesterday that didn't let up for hours! Covered the whole road, it did. Here, don't I know you?"

"No," all three replied in unison. The Shirriff raised his hands in mock defence.

"Alright, alright. Just curious. On you go then but I'm warning you, the road ain't easy to follow- buried under near twelve inches!"

He left them, walking back up the road they had come down which was now almost completely frozen over. The companions and their horse stepped gingerly into the cold and immediately out again.

"We will wait until morning," Frodo said adamantly, "Otherwise we'll freeze in that. Come on, let's rest in that field over the wall and hope for better weather tomorrow."

Emáten and Sam obeyed gratefully, clambering over the stonework and dropping down onto the grass beyond. Under the wall's shadow, they laid out their rolls and retrieved some food from their satchels. After a meagre supper, they laid down under the stars and fell asleep almost immediately.

Frodo felt himself lose his grip on the world and spiral away down into the pit of dreams. Darkness enclosed him on all sides. There were strange, foul creatures surrounding him, hemming him in. He felt so heavy and there was an unbearable pain at the back of his neck. His throat was dry and when tried to cry out, all that emerged from his chapped lips was a hoarse squeak. The creatures laughed and bent down to him. They forced his head back and poured a burning liquid down his throat. He struggled but was only turned round onto his belly. There was a crack and a searing pain ran across his back and to his shoulder. "Pipe down, slug." Another lash and Frodo screamed so loudly and convulsed so violently that he woke himself.

He had rolled metres away from Sam and Emáten. Sam was beginning to wake and mumbled his name sleepily. Frodo ran back to the camp and quickly reassured him.

"It's alright, Sam. Just me."

"Mister Frodo?" Sam blinked and their eyes met. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Sam, it was nothing."

Sam rubbed his eyes and sat up, shaking his head.

"You had another dream, didn't you? Frodo, I can see you're lying, you're all pale!"

Frodo sat back on his feet and let out a small whimper, turning his gaze to the ground.

"I don't understand, Sam. They are so vivid and...it's just so frightening that I-"

For once, Frodo needed to be consoled. He wrapped his arms round his friend and buried his face into his shoulder, trying to block out the tears. He felt Sam's grip tighten on his back and his friend let out a sigh.

"Mister Frodo, forgive me... I know I'll do it wrong. I know that whatever I do will be wrong but I can't bear it anymore. Seein' you like this. I can't let it go on."

The hobbit drew back hesitantly.

"Sam, you do not have to tell me. They are just dreams."

"But they're not!" his friend protested, "What you dream about is memories. Dark memories from when you carried It. Your nightmares are real, Mister Frodo! Rosie was right, I will have to tell you..."

Frodo raised a hand.

"Sam, no. No, if it brings you so much pain to see me hurt then give me one more night. If there is another nightmare, another...memory then, well, we'll see. Sam, please, I don't want anything to hurt you or pain you and I am so afraid of this thing you speak of, if it does truly hold the key to all these nightmares. One more night."