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. (Apart from Ematen) 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.

AARRGG! I am so angry at Fanfiction! Most review names have been cancelled out and replaced with xing@fanfiction.net. I do apologise that I cannot actually reply to about three reviews because of this stupid fault but thanks to TrueFan, we have discovered that it does not appear to last and is just a minor setback. I wish the Fanfiction staff would stop screwing around with their site and making it worse rather than improving it. I'm sorry, I've finished ranting now...

Shirebound: Ah! The plot thickens...Hehe, of course you can sleep at Bag End! Why not? I'm sure Rosie wouldn't mind. Oh, and I'd really like to see little Frodo-lad and Elanor. *sigh*

ViNguyen: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please forgive me but it was just a little kind of joining chapter to lead swiftly onto the next. One of my "pensive" moments, as they have been described

MagicalRachel: I will rescue Sam...eventually, I promise! I know, Ch. 27 was my sort of normality falling back into place. No hobbit torture make Ailsa get cranky...Oh, but yay for the best Sam fic ever!

Koko Kung: Bad FF.net! Bad Fido! I promise I will let you know about Sam. He will appear in ensuing chapters. Glad you liked the letters part. It was sort of one of my daydreams at school and I thought it fitted well

Radia: Yes *cringe* I am a terrible one for the Frodo torture. I have to admit though, I've seen worse and far more alarming ones. I have never killed him yet! As for Sam, no way! You need not threaten me (although being hit with that book really does frighten me) I will never kill a hobbit as long as I live. I'm really pleased you liked the letters too. I don't think Sam would show Frodo those letters- might be a little odd. But maybe one day I could chronicle them... But I digress. Ah yes, Ematen is my character. He never appears in Lord of the Rings. But during my more boring school lessons, I have come up with his whole ancestry! Yay! Go blue-eyed Frodo!

Alatariel: Hehe, I am honoured! I am delighted that this story is making you so happy! It is wonderful to know that my writing has made a difference for you. Yes! The Fellowship will meet! It's a shame that Middle-Earth residents hadn't mastered resurrection or we could even get Boromir back...Frankenstein style...

Crazytook: What a lovely review! It is so lovely that you notice all the little details. It means a lot to me. The Nazgul part - only one has come back. I didn't think it could be possible for all of them so maybe just the one survived the Ring's destruction. No, Sam has been pushed off the Black Rider's dragon and is currently lying in some trees

TrueFan: Randomness, yes indeed. Yay for Woot! Yes, I think you have a great accent. Very American. As for me, like you said, major English on my part. Sorry the chapter was short but glad you liked it anyway!

Skye: Poor old Frodo. He's just such a sweetheart! I'm sorry, I know, I'm an evil torturess. I will try and mend my ways...it's just that this is a lot more fun

~ Chapter Twenty-Eight ~

Frodo woke in the dead of night. When all the world seemed to be asleep and only the wind swept the barren land around him. Darkness. The shadows that coiled about the trees that groped like gnarled hands at the sky. The hobbit pulled his blanket close to him, trying to block out the terrible black of the night. No moon swung in the sky and only a few stars pricked the horizon...like bright yellow eyes. Frodo sat bolt upright, breathing hard, the hairs rising on the back of his neck. No, Gollum was dead. Forever. Nothing could bring him back. But then, what had brought back the dragons of the Black Riders? If they returned, maybe Gollum would as well. Frodo curled up under his mantle and whimpered to himself.

"Sam..."

--

A white frost laced the grassy hilltop. And beyond it stretched miles and miles of swaying corn and wheat. Bilbo clutched his side as he mounted the hill summit and stood gasping beside his friend.

"How much further is Bag End from here?"

"Do you not know?" Gandalf asked, raising one bushy eyebrow.

"You seem to know a lot more about the world suddenly than I do. This all appears to be a lot less familiar. Do you think I have forgotten, Gandalf?" the hobbit cried and fear tugged at his heart. The wizard shook his head.

"Of course not, you silly hobbit," he scolded, "You are doubting my ability to have cast this spell. But you said yourself at the path that you remembered absolutely everything. Do not be foolish, Bilbo. And stop jumping up and down, for goodness sake, calm down."

They descended the bank to lower ground and proceeded to travel into the deep night. Wading through the fields and stumbling over fences, they managed to reach a crossroads and there sat down to catch their breath.

"This is one thing I got used to while I was immortal," Bilbo gasped, "Not having all the bother of getting out of breath."

"Oh, I think this will be good exercise for the both of us. Besides, we are almost at Michel Delving, I believe. We will press on from there and reach Hobbiton by the mid-morning. But I am sure that we will need to eat by that time."

"Yes, of course," the hobbit replied, "I had quite forgotten about eating. How lovely! Now there is one virtue of mortality I had missed."

"Yes," Gandalf said in a knowing tone.

--

...Far above the Shire, the dragon spiralled round and about, enfolding itself in shadows until quite invisible. The great scaly head made not a sound as it cut through the air like a blade. Upon its back, the Nazgûl rider watched and searched. Waiting...

It was alone. No other of its companions had survived the storm of Mordor. Struck by their desire for the Ring, they were cast from the sky by flame and lightning and lost in the vast crevices that now welled up in the black lands. But this king had not fallen. Still stronger and more cunning than any other. And yet now it had nothing to achieve. It was the Nazgûl that had called for the Ringbearer.

Sam had been a mistake.

All hobbits looked the same to the rider. All it saw was weakness and frailty. But the Ringbearer, Baggins, was its key. A key into the Undying Lands. For once it reached Valinor, then it would be immortal. There, in Valinor, it would rule again. Sauron's spirit would not die yet. It lived in many things. In every orc, there was a flickering light of Sauron. In Moria, there stalked Sauron's shadow. Across the bleak wasteland of Mordor crept the broken figures of Sauron's creation. But it had died in all those things. All the orcs were gone. Moria was gone. Mordor now no more than a ruin. But the wraith lived on. The last remnant, the last shadow of Sauron.

Only in Valinor would it finally be able to rebuild the Eye's kingdom. The commands rung in its head and the Nazgûl knew nothing else. And the only way into the Undying Lands was to get Baggins. The Ringbearer would finally be cast down. As Sauron determined an age ago.

And now the dragon flew. Wild in the skies. A spirit caught among the clouds, tossing and turning. Death in flight. And from in the folds of black cloth, the Nazgûl issued a piercing scream that would wake the dead...

--

A grey dawn was flaming on the horizon. Emáten rose early to prepare breakfast for the hobbits. He was pleased to see Frodo asleep and came across to him. There was a strange beauty about him. An odd light. Though Emáten had heard many tales of such a thing, it was almost surreal for him to see. As if morning light was shining from Frodo himself and all the sun was within him.

The man shook his head and smiled, pulling the blanket gently round the little hobbit's shoulders. He got to his feet and turned back to his small gathering of tinder. As he looked round for some flint or stone he could use to strike a spark, he found Pippin's eyes on him.

"I trust you, Emáten," he said in a small voice, "Because you see it too."

"What, Master Peregrin?"

The hobbit shook his head with a smile and crawled up to sit next to him.

"You see Frodo's light. That's what you're saving. I thought that maybe...you wouldn't really understand. Too wrapped up in the stories and grand tales of our adventure. But you've been wonderful. And now I understand myself that you will save us. Strider could not have chosen a better hero."

He put his arms round Emáten and gave him a hug. Then Pippin turned back round and crawled under his blanket. Emáten sat alone on the windswept riverbank, feeling a smile creeping over his face. He had never felt so wanted, so special in all his life. And under the fading stars, he vowed to every member of the Fellowship, whispering the names under his breath one by one, that he would bring the hobbits to safety. Even if it took his life, Emáten would guide them to the South.