Disclaimer:  Not mine.  It's Tolkien's.

A/N:  Sorry this took so long to post.  I haven't gotten very many reviews lately and I'm not sure if its because you're getting bored with this story or if its because I'm taking so long to post and you all have given up on me.  In any case, I'm sorry and I'd still like to hear your input and I intend to write more whether I get reviews on this or not, because I'm having fun writing it.  Hope you enjoy.

BTW:  I do intend for Frodo to get involved again.  Do you think I should continue from Apryl and/or Pippin's POV as I have been or switch over to Frodo or Morgainne's (or someone else currently in the Fellowship) POV.  Let me know?

Chapter 34

ELVES, THREATS, AND PROMISES ANEW

            Apryl started awake with a jerk. 

            Beside her, Merry shifted and mumbled, then settled back into faraway dreams, his quiet snores coming easily, and they were a comfort to Apryl's ears.  She glanced at him, eyes bleary with sleep, but he rested easily and made not a sound.

            What--?

            Then she looked to Pippin, and spied that he too slept sounded . . . and she herself had just awoke.

            Dear God, she looked around and found that night had descended.  She could barely see ought around her.  What time is it?  She struggled to her feet, realizing in a panic that she had fallen asleep on watch.

            "Merry," she shook him and he groaned, cracked his lids and peered at her sleepily.  "Merry, wake up." 

            "What is it, Apryl?" he mumbled. 

            "I fell asleep, Merry," she replied miserably.  "I'm so sorry."

            At first, Merry couldn't see the problem.  So what if she had fallen asleep?  It was night after all.  But then the past days events slammed into him and the drowsiness fled him in an instant. 

            "What time is it?" he asked, shoving the covers from him. 

            "Well past night fall," she said softly.  Apryl looked to east and saw the sky was a shade lighter there than in the west.  "Near dawn."

            Merry cursed beneath his breath, shook Pippin who, oddly enough, started awake almost instantly.  "I'm sorry--" he burst out in panic, "I didn't mean to--please!" 

            "Calm down, Pip," Merry said easily, "Calm down.  It's only a dream, nothing else."

            The haze left the younger hobbit's eyes and he suddenly seemed to see Merry.  "Merry?" he said, hesitantly.  "I thought . . . where is--?"  But then his gaze fell to Apryl's and the worry and sorrow faded from his features.

            "Come on, Pip," Merry said, turning to gather their meager supplies.  "We've overslept."

            Pippin looked at Apryl and spied her reddened cheeks.  He might have suspected the cold but as she would not catch his gaze he knew otherwise.  Wearily, he stumbled to his feet.

            Much the following night preceded as the first, though talk grew fewer, for minds became weary and less energy spent was always the better.  They continued on well into morning and only rested at noon of that day.

            Apryl spoke very little to either hobbit but spent much of her time looking over maps or reading passages from The Lord of the Rings for hints as to the way they might take.  Merry was rather curious about the book and asked her once where she had gotten it.  She told him from Lord Elrond and her tone was so clipped that Merry spoke no more of it.  Pippin said nothing of the book, for they interested him not at all.  He thought them a waste of time and when he mentioned this to Merry, Apryl laughed until tears came to her eyes.  She shook her head.

            "If you only knew, Pippin," she giggled.  "If you only knew."  Either hobbit could only look at the other and shrug helplessly.  Apryl smiled at them and went back to her book, wondering curiously way the novel still intrigued her when the real thing stood right before her.  She could only surmise that it was out of need.  She needed this book to help her locate the Fellowship and without it her and her companions were as good as doomed.              It had not been that long since leaving the House of Elrond and yet the days and nights were already blurring together.  Apryl often found herself flipping to the timeline in the back of the book to determine where they should be. 

            She knew that it had taken the Fellowship near a fortnight to reach the borders of Hollin--but that information did Apryl little good if neither she nor the hobbits knew what this place looked like.  The land was so different from her own Earth.  When you entered a town or city in her own world you knew it to be such by the signs on the road.  As for the hobbits, they knew no lands beyond the Shire. 

            Apryl sighed in frustration.  If her calculations were correct (which she wasn't too confident they were) her and the hobbits were only two days behind the Fellowship (perhaps two-and-a-half thanks to her falling asleep on watch).  In any case, she could only hope that too much time hadn't fled their grasp and the Fellowship was not now beyond reach. 

*     *     *     *     *

            It was sometime in the early hours of the fourth or fifth day, when the sun had long dispelled the mountains' shadows, that a scream shattered the serene dawn and caused Pippin and Apryl to jerk awake from a restless sleep and Merry to rise with sword drawn. 

            The three had settled down early that day, before even the sky had paled, for the path they had taken that night dropped them, literally, right into a swamp.  By the time they had managed from the diseased waters, not a cloth on their skin was dry and not one of them escaped unscathed.  It had been a miserable night and all any of them had wanted was to sleep and let their dreams take them away.  Only Pippin and Apryl got their wish, however, as Merry sat huddled upon the ground.  It was a short-lived relief though, for they had barely rested their eyes when death itself woke them.

            It was an unholy scream that rent the air, indeed it did not seem to be a noise made possible by any living creature.  But there was pain in the cry, and fear, and the undead do not feel such things.

            "What was that?" Pippin hissed, reaching across his pack and drawing his own sword.  None of the others made a noise, but instead sought the answer upon the rolling land about them.  They could see nothing, for all about them hung a dreary haze. 

            "Orcs?" Apryl whispered finally, when several moments had passed and no other sounds followed.  Slowly, Merry lowered his sword.

            "I know not," he said, finally.  "It certainly was unlike anything I--"

            Again, the scream climbed to the heavens, cutting off all other sounds, including those issuing from Merry's throat.

            "Where is it coming from?" Pippin demanded desperately, holding his blade in a white-knuckled grip, and looking about wildly.  "I see nothing!"

            "Over there," Merry pointed with his own sword.  "Beyond that crest.  It could come from no other place."

            Even as he spoke, voices lifted beyond the rise where Merry's blade was aimed, but they were unlike the earlier scream, for words could be discerned, though they were not of the Common Tongue.  Merry looked at his companions. 

            "Elves?" Pippin voiced his cousin's thoughts.  As soon as he spoke, another scream carried to the three as of before, though this time it gurgled down into a speech the hobbits and girl could understand.

            "Don't touch!" something wailed.  "Don't hurt!  Not bad, not bad!"  And over the crest something hobbit-sized ran, flying across the uneven ground at seemingly an impossible pace, heading straight for the small company.  Close behind, two elves followed, one stopping short at the last, an arrow notched in his bow, and the other falling wide to give his companion a clear shot.

            "Hullo?!" Pip cried out, nearly dropping his own weapon.  "Is that a hobbit?  Hoy!" he called to the elves, "Stop right there!" and ran out beyond the three's small circle.

            "Pip, wait!"  Merry made a grab for his cousin but missed by a good inch or more.  Pippin heeded him not.  "Foolish Took!" Merry cursed and ran after Pip, and Apryl followed close, wondering at Pippin's actions.

            The elf with the bow hesitated, called out something to his companion which in turn caused his fellow to stop and peer curiously at the approaching hobbits and girl.  The small hobbit-like creature paid the elves no mind but, spying Pippin drawing near, gave a shriek of terror and threw itself to the ground, where it lay there shivering.

            Pippin slowed his pace, came upon the small thing so as not to frighten it and Merry and Apryl came up behind him, but held back hesitantly.  He peered back at his companions and Apryl looked down at the small huddled form.  It reminded her of someone . . . .

            Pippin turned back to it.  "Hullo, there," he began hesitantly, "Are you alright?"  He took a step closer.

            "Hobbits!" one of the elves called out.  "Are you those of the House of Elrond in Rivendell.  Those who left four days ago with the Lady Atira?"

            Merry glanced up sharply, stared hard at the elves, which were now walking over and realized suddenly that he recognized them.  "Apryl, isn't that--?"

            But Apryl was paying the elves very little mind.  It was the creature that fascinated her.  It looked almost like a hobbit but of a very wretched sort.  Or perhaps it was an orc.  Apryl had never seen one of the nightmarish creatures and didn't know what to make of it.  Then, she recalled someone whom she hadn't given a thought to since her arrival and the very idea that that creature could have slipped her mind was inexcusable.

            "Pippin!" Apryl suddenly cried, for to her horror the young hobbit was reaching out to the huddled, shaking form.  "Don't!  It's--!" and she made a lunge for him, grabbed him by the arm to pull him back.

            Pippin turned on her, both surprised and angered, for all he cared to do was see how this poor wretch faired and Apryl was clutching at him.  He opened his mouth to demand what she was about but the words were not forthcoming, for instead they dissolving into a pain-filled scream. 

            Horrified, the hobbit turned to find that the creature had latched onto and then bit down upon his arm.  Its eyes were alive with a dangerous and gleeful light.

            Merry cried out and raised up his sword, as if to cut it down and indeed he would have had not the creature released it's hold on Pippin and bounded out of the way. 

            "--Sméagol!" Apryl gasped, her eye's wide.

            The creature stopped then, looked at Apryl curiously and cocked its head to the side causing stringy, black hair to brush against thin, hunched shoulders.  It's dark eyes flicked toward the elves and, seeing them run over, it hissed and scurried toward Apryl, who gave a yelp and unintentionally took a more secure position behind Pippin and Merry.

            "Stay back," Merry cried, seeing the creature's decent upon his friend and slashing his sword at it.  It pulled back, hissed threateningly at the hobbit, and turned to flee but was hindered in its escape as the elves came then.  Seeing this, it immediately fell to the ground.

            "Not orc, not bad!" the creature whined, miserably.  Its words came out in hardly an intelligible rasp, as though from lack of use.  "Not bad, not bad!  Mite good.  Not hurt Mite!" it pleaded, pushing backwards along the ground, away from the tall fair folk. 

            One of the elves shook his head and looked at the moaning creature in disgust.  Still, Merry held his sword before him whereas Pippin, having dropped his, held his bleeding arm to his chest and watched the creature in a mixture fear and, perhaps one could have said, pity. 

            Apryl, on the other hand, was horrified.  Not so much at the creature itself, but at the way it groveled before the elves and how much it seemed to fear them.

            One of the elves drew a thin, well-crafted sword and lowered it just above the creature's head.  Apryl looked up at him.  "You're not going to kill him?"  She did not think he would but still . . . . 

            The elf shook his head.  "No," he said, though it looked to Apryl as if he wanted to.  "Elrohir," he spoke to his fellow.  "Fetch me some rope so that we may bind it."

            "I thought so," Merry said, as Elrohir turned to do his companion's biding.  He disappeared beyond the crest.

            The elf looked down at the halfling.  "Thought what, wee one?"

            "You are Elladan, son of Elrond," Merry said, "And that is your brother, Elrohir."

            The elf nodded.  "Indeed it is."

            Apryl sidled away from the tall elf, moved behind Merry who had once again uplifted his sword.  Pippin bent to retrieve his own blade but held it awkwardly with his injured arm.

            "What is this?" the elf wondered, his eyes widening in surprise.

            "You've been following us," Pippin accused.

            The elf nodded.  "Yes, but only because--"

            "We won't go back," Apryl said, her clear, high voice cutting through the morning chill. 

            "I am afraid my father, Master Elrond, sent my brother and I to fetch you."

            "We are not going back," Pippin repeated.  Merry eyed them defiantly, daring either one to try and force them.  "We may be small, but we can hold are own," Pippin said, saying aloud what Merry held within his gaze to be true.

            "We did not come for you," Elrohir said, coming up from behind his brother, leading two horses, either burdened with a pack.  "Only the Lady."

            Merry and Pippin glanced at each other, then at Apryl.  "Me?" she asked, incredulous, and before she could stop herself, "Why?"

            "Because Mithrandir advised it," Elrohir put in.  He looked uncomfortable, as though he felt he had no right speaking to this very small child as he was.

            "Gandalf?" Apryl said, both surprised and angered to hear the wizard was making this more complicated than it ought.  That old coot, she thought in frustration, he can jump off a bridge for all I care.  I'm not leaving Merry and Pippin.  Not now.

            "And what?" she demanded.  "Leave my friends?" she gestured at the hobbits.  She shook her head.  "I'll not do it."

            Elladan took the rope from his brother.  "They may do as they please," he said, binding the creature's hands and then feet together.  It made no protests, other than to moan and wail occasionally.  "They did come this far after all."

            "Yes," Pippin said, angered at being talked about as though he was not there.  "And with Apryl's help at that.  She's not going anywhere but south, with us."

            "I'm afraid not, little one," Elladan said, and he truly looked sorry.  "Lady Atira must return to Rivendell, that our father has made clear.  I would advice you and your friend to do the same.  However, I will not force you.  You may go where you please, though by following the Fellowship you may in fact only hinder, not help as you intend."  He looked over at Apryl, who was now behind either hobbit, and gazed at her almost pleadingly. 

            "Come, my lady.  We elves are not keen on violence but this matter I deem is of more importance than I understand and I will not fail in my father's trust.  Will you come with us willingly?  Or," he touched his sword hilt, "Must we resort to a more human way?"

            Apryl knew that there was no way Merry and Pippin could better these elves with swords, for though the halflings talked big she knew steel was mightier than the tongue.  She would not have them hurt Merry or Pippin and though it went against all she felt was right; perhaps this was for the greater good.  Perhaps Master Elrond was right in not letting her come and now that she had gotten the hobbits going in the right direction, maybe they could correct the error she had made. 

            At least, Apryl hoped.  Oh, how she hoped.

            "Very well," she said, raising her chin and looking at the elf lord defiantly.  "I will go with you."

            Pippin fairly dropped his sword again.  "W-what?  But--No!"

            "Apryl," Merry began, and Apryl was grieved to see that his eyes were saddened.  "You cannot go.  I thought we . . . What about Cousin Frodo?"

            Apryl shook her head.  "Frodo does not need me.  He needs you and Pippin.  Besides, it looks like I have little choice in the matter."  She glanced sideways at the elves.

            "You most certainly have a choice," Pippin said angrily.  "This is a free land after all.  I thought only Sauron wished otherwise," and here he glared at the elves.  Elrohir avoided the halfling's gaze and instead busied himself with his pack.  Elladan, however, merely looked down at the hobbit.

            "I can understand your misgivings, Master Hobbit," he told them, though there was an edge to his voice.  What Pippin said hit too close to home, for he indeed felt this was against all his father had ever taught him.  People had the right of freedom.  All people, whether they were burdened with darkness or knew the light of day.  "But Lady Atira must return to Rivendell with us.  It is for the best."

            Pippin snorted.  "Indeed?"

            Apryl laid a hand on the hobbit's shoulder.  "Do not worry for me, Peregrin Took," she said.  "All you need worry about is finding your Cousin Frodo and sticking to his side."

            Pippin frowned.  "You agree to this?"

            Apryl smiled fondly at him.  "Not entirely," she said truthfully, "but I have already given my word.  I will go with them."

            Pippin bit his lower lip and after a moment's thought, spoke quietly.  "I, too, have given my word," he whispered.

            Apryl's smile faded, as she realized what he meant.  "Silly hobbit," she sighed.  "It was only a silly promise.  I do not take it to heart."

            Pippin shook his head.  "No," he said firmly, "It wasn't.  I mean to keep it.  Even if I failed once in your trust I will not do so again."

            Apryl looked hard at him.  "You did not fail me, Pip," she told him firmly, "and I no longer hold you to your promise."  He made as if to protest, but she hugged him and his words became lost.  "All must walk alone sometimes," she whispered in his ear.  "Perhaps I am destined to do so longer than most."  She pulled back, looked him in the eyes.  "I do not mind it," she assured him, and smiled.

            Pippin would not be lightened by her words.  "I know you speak false," he told her, "but I can see you will not change your mind.  And . . . and," he looked at Merry, as though his cousin would understand his meaning.  Merry did.

            The elder hobbit stepped forward and smiled at Apryl, though it was weak and held little humor.  "And though Pippin would go with you," he finished for his cousin, "he does not want to leave our dear Frodo in the hands of some blundering Big Folk."

            Apryl shook her head firmly, caught their gaze and looked at them hard.  "I released you from one promise, Peregrin Took, but I now hold you to another.  Promise me," she said, "both of you promise me that when you find the Fellowship you will not let Frodo from your sight no matter the cause."  She hesitated, then, but said finally:  "Except when Eru wills it . . . when naught will keep you together." 

            Apryl's jaw clenched and her gaze became almost lost and either hobbit could tell that she thought long and hard upon something.  "For the time will come," she said finally, reluctantly, "That you will not be able to help Frodo."

*****

And so things continue to go ill for Apryl and worse yet for the Fellowship.