Note: yer so I don't own any of these characters except for Kelek'(Kelekheru, ice lord in Quenya-not my own language but that of Tolkien who also created the characters I have borrowed)

Many years ago a strange tale began with a hobbit finding a magic ring, later this simple golden ring turned out to be more trouble than it was worth and many lives were changed for ever. I will tell you some of that tale my friend, though there will never be time for it all. I pick up the tale once the hobbits have already left their homes in an attempt to take the ring to one who will know what to do with it.

The bar was filled with murmured chatter, secrets passing from man to man, or hobbit to hobbit as the case may have been, the door opened briefly to admit four small people of this race, often called Halflings because of their size, a pause in the conversation greeted their entrance as their fearful eyes searched the dark, smoky room. The talk soon returned though, who cared about a couple of hobbits in a place like this? Many of the pub's inhabitants might have been more interested by the short conversation that followed with the bar man, Barliman Butterbur, it appeared that the hobbits were supposed to be meeting the wizard Gandalf-Mithrandir to some, Olórin to others, but Gandalf the Grey to most-but the wizard had not been seen for much time, at least not in this area.

But the drinkers did not hear these words and so knew none of what passed before the hobbits moved to a small table ordering four half pints of ale and a hobbit sized room for the night. Their interests were raised again though as a shadowy figure entered the room, there was already one ranger, a sinister man the Breelanders had named Strider, but to have two such people in this land at once was very rare. The newcomer was unknown to the pubs occupants, though they assumed he was just another of the wandering rangers or Dunadain. He stood framed in the open doorway for a moment until his eyes-hidden beneath a dark travelling cloak-fell upon the hobbits. Then he entered the room moving quickly to a shadowy corner and ordering a drink.

The next few minutes passed without note so that the room had almost forgotten the strange travellers and the normal chatter filled the room again. But the calm normality of the tavern did not last long.

"I know a Baggins, Frodo Baggins..." Pippin, the youngest of the four hobbits, was suddenly heard over the sound of the crowd. He had moved to the bar to buy another drink when some strange southerners had started talking with him, more intuitive people would have found it hard to trust those people, but Pippin was young and naïve and so easily fooled.

Frodo, possibly the most important of the hobbits as it was he who carried the One Ring, suddenly jumped up, trying to reach his friend and shut him up before he said anything else. Baggins was no longer a safe name as the dark Lord had many spies who knew it and knew of what he carried.

What happened next happened so fast that many of the drinkers are still unsure of what actually came to pass. The elder hobbit rushed across the crowded room in the hopes of silencing his friend, tripping as he ran the hobbit should have been sent sprawling on the floor, but instead he disappeared!

Cries and shouts went up from those who saw the disappearing act and the commotion quickly spread throughout the room as the confused drinkers tried to work out what had happened. By the end of the night the whole incident had been blamed on the drink.

In a dark corner of the room the hooded figure, who had been forgotten by the drinkers minutes before, watched the general confusion within the room with a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Not that they could be seen by the rest of the room though as they, along with his whole face, were still hidden beneath his cowl. While the rest of the drinkers had no way of finding the invisible hobbit, this man had other senses to help him, he could hear and smell that the hobbit was still exactly where he had been, he just couldn't see him. He sensed as the Halfling crawled between the legs of the crowd to find a quiet place, and watched in amassment as Frodo reappeared. The rest of the room was beginning to calm as the ranger, Strider, who had been sat silently through the whole affair, grabbed the hobbit from behind and dragged him off out of the room.

The other hobbits had somehow found their friend in the crowded room, and watched as the ranger dragged him away before following quickly in an act of stupid heroism in an attempt to save him by the use of a collection of candle sticks and walking sticks to fight of a fully trained ranger with a sword. The shadowy figure shook his head as they too disappeared up the stairs before following himself.

The dark stairs were ascended to a dark corridor with rooms to either side, the hobbits and ranger had disappeared but it was not hard for the cloaked man to follow them, he stopped at a door and rested his ear against it, listening.

The ranger was explaining his abduction of the ringbearer, the ringbearer! Exactly what he had been looking for.

Talk had turned to the black riders now, "Who are they?" Frodo asked, his voice small and scared, the hobbits still didn't know if they could trust this ranger.

"They are the Nazgûl, the ring-wraiths, Úlairi to the elves and black-riders to men." The hobbits looked up, surprised to find that the answer came not from Strider, but from a shadowy stranger by the door. "They were men once, kings of men, but the temptation of power was too great for them and they accepted the stolen elven rings from the Lord of Werewolves, the dark Lord; Sauron who stole their souls and took control of them. Now they are no more than wraiths, totally possessed and slaves to their master. They need your ring master hobbit, and will do all in their power to gain it."

"Who are you who knows so much of these dark things?" Aragorn (AKA Strider, the ranger) asked as the hobbits reached for their makeshift weapons and he drew his sword.

"I am one who comes to you in peace in the hopes of thwarting these dark creatures of their goal." He answered, though they still could not see his face.

"Again I am forced to ask who you are." The ranger said, his voice level and his sword raised.

"And again I must answer that I come to you in peace so you may lower your..." He paused as his hidden eyes passed over the hobbits and their assembled 'weapons', "weapons." If they can be called such he added silently.

"But have we no reason to trust to what you say? For you speak in riddles and tell us nothing, will you not even show your face?" This came from Sam who had only just been persuaded to trust Strider, and was not too happy with that even, so why should he trust this new stranger?

The man smiled, though his smile was barely visible, "Alright, master hobbit, I will remove my weapons so that you have no need to fear attack, and I will tell you that my name is Kelek', if there is more you wish to know you must ask it quickly for you are in grave danger as the ranger has said." He then drew a curved and clearly foreign sword from its sheath at his back and placed it on the floor between them. A pair of strange 'knives' followed this from a pair of sheaths across the mans back that had left their hilts barely visible to either side of his back just above his hips. The hobbits stared at the strange weapons, the jewel encrusted hilt of the sword appeared to be worth more than the whole of Bree and the Shire put together, and the knives were like nothing the Halflings had seen before, they were too long for their width and appeared to be forged from gold, a metal too soft for the manufacture of weaponry, held point up their hand guards formed shapes below the blade. Although the hobbits did not know it at the time, all the strange weapons came from the Southrons in the South where the strange knives were named Sai.

"How are you so knowledgeable of the darkness that surrounds us, and how come you to own such weapons?" Frodo asked in a small voice.

"My knowledge comes from time spent in the dark realm though I have forsaken it now, as to these weapons they were given to me in my time in the southern lands before I returned to the north."

Strider still held his sword raised though the hobbits had again lowered their assortment of weapons, more out of curiosity than trust. "Is your face so dark that you will not show it? What are you hiding Kelek'? How come you to be named in the tongue of the Eldar?"

The smile vanished from the hidden face, though this could only be felt by the subtle change of tone in the voice that came from there as the face itself could not be seen, "My name is my name and how I come to have it I do not know, you could ask my mother who named me at my birth, but she has now left this world. As to my face, I mean not to hide it from you, I merely feel safer if I see who I speak with but they see not me."

"Then lower your hood."

Kelek' did so reluctantly knowing that there was no way he could gain any trust until he did so, but equally knowing that the chance of any trust once the process was performed, was unlikely. As the heavy fabric slipped away from his face the hobbits and ranger could finally see the man they had been speaking with. His hair hung loose about him, long and golden-brown. The face itself would have been hansom were it not marred by a thin scar stretching from below his right eye to just below his chin, crossing his nose on the way.

"I see not why you hide away!" Pippin-the youngest of the hobbit-cried out suddenly breaking the silence, but at that moment the man opened his eyes and the hobbit recoiled.

Aragorn raised his sword ready to attack, the eyes before him could in no way said to be earthly; they shone with amber fire like those of a cat or a wolf, "Gaurwraith, Werewolf!" he hissed.

"This is why I 'hide away' as the hobbit says, I cannot help what I am, but I ask your trust all the same."

"How can a werewolf ask for trust, I thought your race to be banished from Arda for the foul deeds you accomplished for your dark master, how can you ask for trust after what you and your people have done?"

"I have forsaken my master, I have betrayed my own people, and yet you ask me how I can be trusted? I give up my weapons without question and all I ask is that I may accompany you to the realm of the elf lord, Elrond, of Rivendell for surely you will not reach that place alone."

"You give up your weapons only because you have darker magicks at your disposal, there is no way we can know that you have forsaken your master and by choosing to accompany us you are only finding a way to get close to the ring of your master so that you may return it to him!" Strider countered watching the werewolves bright eyes closely.

Kelek' thought this over before answering, "I cannot make any of you believe any words I say can I? So let actions speak louder, do have silver in your possession ranger?"

"Silver?" For the first time the rangers suspicions wavered, silver was the only thing that could harm a werewolf.

Sam, having listened carefully to this conversation and finally decided that perhaps this ranger could be trusted, though he was still not sure of the werewolf, reached into his tunic and drew out a thick silver chain on which hung a small luck charm of sorts. "I 'ave this though I no not why you might need it." He said.

Kelek' reached out to take the chain the hobbit was offering but dropped at as soon as it touched his skin letting out a small curse as the skin it had made contact with burned with red pain. Clasping his hand to him the werewolf turned to the hobbits, "If that chain is placed about my neck I will not be able to transform, you can take my weapons and I will be defenceless. If you will allow me to accompany you thus to the home of the elves then there the lord Elrond will be able to inform you that I am as I say I am."

"And you will suffer the pain of the silver just to be allowed to travel with us?" Merry asked, speaking up for the first time.

"I would suffer any pain to see that that thing never falls into the hands of my old master."

And so the chain was placed around his neck and though the pain was great Kelek' wore it none the less as the ranger lead them towards the halls of the elven lord.

Days passed and the hobbits passed through marsh and wood following the direction of the great Eastern Road whilst staying off the path itself so that the Nazgûl would not be able to follow them too easily, but still their foes' cries sounded in the night.

After many days travel the watch tower of Amunsun was reached, this place, now named Weathertop, had been built long ago by the great kings of the west who had escaped the destruction of Numenor. Now the watchtower stood in ruins but the sloped of the hill on which it stood gave the group a place to rest for the night.

Strider disappeared off as he often did to find fresh food for the hobbits, or to search for danger, in his absence the hobbits began to prepare breakfast, "Tomatoes, bacon, eggs, mushroom...hmmm!" Pippin commented as the smell of frying food filled the air.

Kelek' and Frodo were already asleep, the hobbits were not surprised at the werewolf's fatigue, he often slept the moment they stopped and they assumed it had something to do with the silver about his neck which now looked quite red and painful.

Frodo awoke suddenly with fear in his heart and noticed, to his dismay, that the hobbit's camp fire would act as a beacon to the dark rider's pursuing them, even as he stomped out the flames (With Pippin moaning of the ash ruining his food) he heard the dreadful sound of the Nazgûl's scream. Grabbing swords and moving quickly the hobbits left the sleeping werewolf and ruined fire in an attempt to escape the riders.

Stood within the circle of stone that had once been the great watchtower, the hobbits awaited their doom. There was no chance of escape from this place as the ring-wraiths were already scaling the dark hillside. As they stood in terror, swords drawn, the fell creatures bore down on them.

The first to arrive within the ruined wall was charged by Sam who was thrown aside almost instantaneously, a second removed both Pippin and Merry from its path with equal ease before all five advanced on the remaining Halfling, the one they had come for, Baggins, the one with the ring.

Frodo backed away in fear, trembling so much that his sword fell from his fingers; it would have been of little use anyway. Backing away still further he found his back against the remains of a stone wall, there was nowhere else for him to go.

His fingers moved, as they so often did in such times of fear, to the ring held on a fine chain at his neck. The Nazgûl drew closer and his finger slipped through the ring, its magic took hold and the hobbit became invisible to all watching, all that is except the ring-wraiths.

The wraiths now shone with ethereal light, their faces bearded and old beyond age. They were the kings of men, long held within the power of the Dark Lord, before them lay the thing they wanted.

The eldest of the kings reached forward with a ghostly hand and Frodo felt the ring drawn away from him, pulling his hand up towards the waiting fiend. "No!" The hobbit cried pulling his hand away.

The Úlairi raised a fine black sword and thrust it at the hobbit who barely had time to move, the blade caught the Halfling's arm, piercing his shoulder and cutting deep into his soul. Frodo screamed in pain as a great coldness filled him, but before the creature could attack again a great shout filled the air and the ranger Aragorn flew down as if straight out of the air. With sword in one hand and blazing torch in the other, he fought the creatures keeping them away from the hobbits, though there was no way he could defeat them alone.

Halfway down the hill Kelek' awoke with a cold dread in his heart, seeing that the hobbits had gone he searched the campsite and found his weapons lying where they had been left, the Halflings had left in a hurry, not thinking of removing the strange weaponry. Grabbing the 'golden' sai he quickly removed the silver from his neck, wincing at the pain this caused, before running up the hill following the sent of the hobbits.

By the time he arrived, the watchtower was filled with Nazgûl, five in all, and the ranger, Strider was fighting a losing battle to keep them away from the ring. The werewolf watched his plight for a moment before joining the battle himself, taking on some of the wraiths himself left the ranger with an easier job, but Kelek' knew fighting Úlairi could never be easy.

"Betrayer!" One of them hissed and suddenly three were almost battling each other in an attempt to be the one to kill him, the werewolf slipped around their blades with a skill honed in fighting men, orc and elves for nearly three thousand years, but the wraiths were far older than even he and just as skilled.

The ranger, blazing torch in hand, soon fought off the two wraiths he had been left to face and turned in time to see the werewolf take a cut to his leg, Kelek' stumbled but regained his balance in time to see off his enemies' subsequent attacks, but he could not hold out much longer.

Strider shook his head at the thought of helping a werewolf, but Kelek' had probably just helped save the lives of both him and the hobbits. Raising sword and torch again he ran into the battle setting one wraith on fire and blocking the attack of another, this left Kelek' with only one to face.

The battle was fast and furious, but finally the Nazgûl fled, leaving Strider to check on Halfling's wounds. Sam, Merry and Pippin had nothing more to show from the battle than a small collection of bruises, Frodo on the other hand was screaming in pain, the blade that had been dropped by the wraith that had attacked him turned to dust the moment the ranger held it. "This is a dark thing, a Morgal blade, they cut not only flesh but deep into the soul. He will need elvish healing which I cannot give or he will become no more than a wraith like those you have just faced." When he met the hobbits' fearful eyes he comforted them quickly saying; "But do not fear for he can receive the healing he needs at Rivendell."

Still not feeling much comforted the hobbits wrapped their friend in his cloak and set him upon the pony they had rescued from Bree; a stout chestnut stallion Sam had named Bill. Their belongings were gathered and they made ready to leave again quickly before the wraiths could return.

Strider turned to Kelek' who stood silently at some distance from the hobbits, "You fought well and have proven your worth to us, my heart is lightened to know that you are no traitor of the dark lord."

The werewolf nodded, his clearly pale even in the dull light of the early dawn.

"Are you alright, I thought I saw one of the wraiths hit you?"

Kelek' stood for a moment silently watching the hobbits, "I am fine." He answered his voice quiet with a slight shake in it, then suddenly the golden blades fell from his loose fingers and he fell to the ground.

The ranger rushed forward finding the werewolf's face to be stone cold, and yet he was still breathing weakly. His leg was slick with blood and a deep cut could be seen there, deep enough to reach down to the bone. Strider quickly bandaged the wound to prevent blood loss, but he could not tell if this had caused Kelek' to faint or if he too had been struck by a Morgal blade.

Kelek' knew nothing of the rest of the journey to Rivendell, he knew not that the hobbits and Strider had met an elf lord, Glorfindel, whilst still some distance from their goal, nor that this lord had tried to heal both him and the hobbit, but was not powerful enough. He remained unconscious while Frodo was allowed to ride upon the elf lord's horse and when the Úlairi again attacked he slept on. Only by the magicks of Lord Elrond were they saved and the creatures cast into the waters of the river.

The werewolf finally regained consciousness within the elven halls; he lay in a white linen bed within a sizable room furnished as all the rooms of these halls were with white and silver that gave the house a magical air. His head was spinning from days of unconsciousness, though his leg was fully healed, partly through the magic of the elves lord and partly through the quickened healing of all his race.

"I am glad to see you have regained consciousness," A powerful, voice spoke, "Now maybe you can tell me what you are doing within my halls again." This was undoubtedly Lord Elrond who had no need to raise his voice when it spoke so clearly through any dim, even the dim of the werewolf's head.

Kelek' grinned, "I thought you would be happy to see me," He commented, "it has been such a long time."

"Do not joke with me gaurwraith, why do you come again to my halls?"

"I come because the ring has come, I do not wish for it to fall into the wrong hands."

"Aragorn has told me such, he also said that you helped fight off the Úlairi and so I am forced to believe you, but why is it of such importance to you?"

"Aragorn? That ranger was Isildur's heir? "The elf lord merely nodded silently, "He will do well." The werewolf commented with a smile, "As for me, I do not wish my old master returned to power do I? I betrayed him and all his army, and all my people." He sat in silence for a moment, "No, but now the ring is safe is it not? You will see that it is destroyed?"

Elrond stood, "There will be a council in a week, by then the Halfling should be fully healed, it will be decided then what will happen to the weapon of the enemy, but yes I will try to ensure that it is destroyed, rest now, though you must leave my realm soon."

Kelek' grinned, "Do you hate me so much for beating your daughter at our contest?"

The elf lord said nothing, leaving the room in silence, Kelek' laughed, yes he would return to the south and the ring would be destroyed, if not all Middle-Earth would fall.

Ok so you know the rest of the story, fellowship of the ring is chosen big battles take place and the ring is cast to its fiery doom. But I have continued an alternative version with a friend of mine that can be found

Check it out if ya get a chance:D