EXCHANGED

A/N: My sincerest apologies on the late release of this fic. I know I promised to have it out by the 15 of April but it took longer than I anticipated to proofread and work all the kinks out. Hopefully you find it worth the wait. The beginning is what I had the most difficulties. I tried three different scenarios to set the scene, and finally this morning came up with this one. This fic will follow book cannon for the most part, although there will probably be times when movie cannon is used, just for continuity's sake. The movie similarities are probably most noticeable in this chapter. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the story. On with the show! (Too much theatre of late......)

Quote of the day: "Racism, sexism, homophobia, and ignorance: those things irritate me alot. That and having no beer in the fridge or losing a girl's number who you really like."-Dominic Monoghan (Merry) on what gets on his nerves. Gave me my smile for the hour. ^_^

CHAPTER ONE

The Accident

The river swirled, a great singular mass of dark coldness, rushing and gurgling, sucking and tossing, swaying and rocking, swaying and rocking, swaying and....

Sam groaned and slunk down into the boat as far as he was able. Still, the quiziness in his stomach did not subside and he moaned again, burying his face in his hands. Behind him, Frodo laid a kind hand on Sam's shoulder and tried to give his friend a reassuring smile.

"Are you holding up all right, Sam?" the dark haired halfling quirked.

Sam swallowed heavily and threw a glance over his broad shoulders. He forced a nod. "Well enough, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo could tell that plainly Sam was not doing well at all. The younger hobbit had turned a pale shade of green and the sudden roughness of the Rauros was not helping at all. Frodo frowned but did not call Sam's bluff.

"We shall be stopping soon, Master Gamgee." From the back of the boat a gruff and weather worn voice resounded. The speaker, a coarse dark haired Man, paused in his paddling for a brief moment to wipe his sweating brow. "The falls are near."

"Will we be moving on tonight, Aragorn?" Frodo asked, looking back at the ranger. Aragorn took up the paddle again and shook his head grimly.

"We will sleep on the choice of which path to take. There are orcs nearby, but only on the eastern shore. I do not think they will trouble us."

At the head of the boat Sam suppressed another groan. "Just what we need is to be caught between a ruddy bunch of orcs and this river....alls I ask is we get on dry land."

Frodo turned back to his companion and gave Sam's shoulder a squeeze before releasing him and settling back against the boat wall. Another harsh wave jostled the lithe elven boat, and Sam tired not to yelp and held tight to the side. "Hobbits ain't made for water, and that's the truth." He muttered.

The roar of the falls grew nearer still and at last Aragorn gave the order to turn to shore. The three boats laden with the eight companions glided onto the nearby shore. Sam scrambled out onto the beach quickly then made sure Frodo got out safely before trotting off to find a dry patch of land. Legolas hopped gracefully out of his boat, leaving no foot prints in the mud with his light, elvish feet. Gimli grumbled as he stumbled out behind the elf. Like Sam he had not much enjoyed the boating trip.

Boromir landed last, with young Merry and Pippin dozing in front of him. The man of Gondor laid his paddle down into the bottom of the ship and gently shook Merry's small shoulder. "Wake up, little one. We are halting for the night," the man called fondly.

Merry pried one eye open and looked steadily at the man. "I would be happy to get out of this boat, comfortable though it is, but I'm afraid Pip is heavier than he looks."

Boromir turned his gaze to the younger halfling, curled up against his cousin's side sleeping contently. The man smiled fondly and chuckled.

"We should not wake him, lest we want to be pestered for the rest of the night about when dinner is." With that he picked up the small halfling like a child and stepped out of the boat. Merry stretched his arms high over his head before standing up and following.

As Boromir passed Aragorn, Aragorn stopped him. "Keep watch over them. Do not let them out of your sight."

Boromir nodded and brought Pippin over to the clearing where Sam and Frodo were setting up camp. The tall captain laid the hobbit down onto a bed of leaves, then walked to a rock a few feet away and sat down. He took out his knife and made like he was cleaning it, though his eyes searched protectively around the surrounding area. Merry plopped himself down beside his cousin and began to speak quietly with Frodo and Sam.

Legolas, who had been taking out the rest of the company's luggage out of the boats and had over heard what Aragorn said to Boromir, presently went over to his friend and asked quietly "Have you an uneasy feeling?"

"A small one, my friend. Something does not seem right in the air," the ranger replied, taking care not to look at the immortal beside him.

"A shadow of a threat has been growing in my mind," the elf said somberly. "I fear that it is not the eastern shore we should be concerned about. I do not forget Lord Celeborn's words."

"Nor do I," Aragorn said, turning to meet Legolas' eyes at last. "Orcs that run under the sun...I have no doubt of their purpose. I do not think that they could over take us with the lead we have, but I am not certain. We must guard Frodo."

"And the others at well," said Legolas reasonably.

Aragorn nodded and finished pulling the boats in. "Keep your bow loose in your hand, my friend."

The Company waited out the night. Frodo slept little. He had a horrible feeling in his stomach and the ring called loudly to him. Sam slept uneasily beside him. Frodo fought the call of the ring and tried to focus on his faithful friend instead, but doing so only made the feeling of dread grow bigger. Still, he spoke no word to anyone, deciding that he was just anxious about the morning, when the choice of which path to take would almost certainly be made upon him. Frodo knew what he must do. He was simply terrified to do it. He looked down at Sam's sleeping form.

"My dear Sam......you would come with me, I know. You would come with me to the fires of Mordor," Frodo whispered. A chill coursed through his spine, making him shudder. Something was about to go dreadfully wrong.

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The next morning.......

Sam's small fire crackled merrily, but the three hobbits surrounding it found little cheer in its warmth. Merry prodded the flames with a stick.

"I do wish Frodo would come back," he said moodily. "How long has he been gone now?"

"Near an hour, I'd reckon." Sam was miserable. It seemed that a frown was permanently etched on his features. Frodo had gone off alone to decide what he must do. Not that Sam did not know what his master's choice would be. It was just taking a very long time for him to return, and that put Sam on edge.

"Sam, you shouldn't scowl like that. Your face might freeze that way." Pippin was trying to lighten up the situation but Sam was in no mood to be cheered up. He crossed his arms and glared at the ground under his feet.

"There ain't nothin' to be smilin' about. Frodo's takin' too long. And where's that Boromir got to?" Sam looked around. Boromir had gone off as well, to collect fire wood as he said. That had been nearly a half an hour ago. Sam did not trust Boromir. He saw the way the man's eyes trained on Frodo's throat, following the silver chain the hung round his neck. Now they were both missing. Sam's unease grew.

Several feet away, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were discussing essentially the same thing. Aragorn was laden with guilt. He hated forcing Frodo into making such an important decision, but he could think of nothing else to do. He missed the council of Gandalf. Truly in this hour they needed him.

A rustle behind the three hobbits caused Legolas to whip around, bow drawn. But it was no orc. Boromir came out from the trees and walked towards the remaining company without speaking. His face looked grim and sad.

~He paused as if counting those that were present, and then sat down aloof, with his eyes on the ground.

"Where have you been, Boromir?" asked Aragorn. "Have you seen Frodo?"

Boromir hesitated for a second. "Yes, and no." He answered slowly. "I urged him to come to Minas Tirith and not to go east. I grew angry and he left me. He vanished. He must have put the Ring on. I could not find him again. I thought he would return to you. That was half an hour ago; or it might have been an hour. I have wandered for some time since. I do not know! I do not know!" He put his head in his hands and sat as if bowed with grief.

"An hour since he vanished!" shouted Sam. "We must try and find him at once. Come on!"

"Wait a moment!" cried Aragorn. "We must divide up into pairs, and arrange-here, hold on! Wait!"

It was no good. They took no notice of him. Sam had dashed off first. Merry and Pippin had followed, and were already disappearing westward into the trees by the shore, shouting: Frodo! Frodo! in their clear, high, hobbit voices. Legolas and Gimli were running. A sudden panic or madness seemed to have fallen on the Company. (The Fellowship of the Ring: The Breaking of the Fellowship.)~

Sam ran as fast as his legs would carry him. His sword banged against his side where it hung at his hip, but he paid no notice to it. All he could think about was Frodo, that Frodo was missing. Too soon it seemed Sam had to stop, unable to keep up the pace any longer and desperately needing to catch his breath.

"Frodo!" He cried, leaning against a tree heavily, gasping for air. "Frodo, where are you!! Frodo! Please, answer!" Sam swallowed thickly then called again. His voice ran in the air, but no one answered. No one answered, but his cry did not go unnoticed. Someone had heard. The someone narrowed its yellow slit like eyes and its gnarled lips curled back in a sadistic grin, revealing a mouth full of crowded sharp teeth. This was no voice of a Man or an Elf. A guttural grow emitted from its throat. "Halfling......"

The orc turned to the rest of his group and with a loud yell gestured in the direction of the cry with a notched, blood darkened blade. "THIS WAY!"

The company of Uruk Hai gave a battle scream that echoed through the woods and broke into a run. Their prey had been located. Where there was one, there would be others. The forest trembled.

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Merry and Pippin froze in their tracks upon hearing the terrible inhuman cry. Pippin clutched at his cousin's arm. "Orcs, Merry! Its orcs! They're near!"

Merry stared, listening. The yells sounded again. Merry paled and grabbed Pippin by the hand. "We have to get back to Aragorn and the others. We cannot be out here alone. Loose your sword Pip, we may have to fight!"

Pippin used his free hand to pull the little blade from its scabbard. He held it clumsily, and Merry pulled out his own, gripping the hilt so tightly his knuckles turned white. The orc cry sounded again.

"Run! Run, this way!" Merry cried, running back towards the camp, pulling Pippin behind him.

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Frodo tripped and slid down the hill a little ways, scraping his back. Cursing he pushed himself up and continued to run back towards the boats. He heard the orc cries, but they only made him run faster. He had made his decision to go to Mordor alone and unaided. He could only pray that his friends would escape the orcs unharmed. "Oh Sam....Merry, Pip, I'm so sorry......I am so sorry." Frodo wept as he ran away from the roars of an oncoming battle.

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"Yrch!" cried Legolas as he strung his bow swiftly. Beside him Gimli raised his axe, ready for the swarm of demons that were coming.

"Let them come! They did not get the dwarf in Moria, and they will not get the dwarf in the woods! Let them come, I say!" Gimli challenged. His challenged was answered as a wave of Uruk Hai came crashing at them through the trees. Legolas let his arrow fly.

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Aragorn thrust his sword forward, burying it halfway through the orc's chest. With a pitiful cry it died and fell to the ground. Aragorn turned and lobbed the arm of another who tried to stab him from behind. It did no good. No matter how many the ranger felled more just kept coming. There were too many.

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Sam trembled as the sound of swords and battle grew nearer. He did not feel that he himself was in any danger; his still thought only of Frodo. Where would Frodo go? If Boromir could not find him, and he had put on the ring, he must have made up his mind. Made up his mind......Frodo was going to try to leave.

The boats! He'd be going back to the boats! Seizing this thought Sam spun around, ready to go running back to the boats to stop his master from whatever he was planning to do. Suddenly something whipped past his face, mere inches away. Sam cried out and toppled backwards, looking up at the black feathered orc arrow that had imbedded itself in the tree behind him. Another flew towards him, landing point down into the ground right beside Sam's hand. He yelped and scuttled backwards, trying to stand up and free his sword at the same time. He only succeeded in tripping himself up even further. The guttural yell sounded again, but this time it was very close and Sam could see the owner of the voice. The vile thing tore through the grove, leaving no tree undamaged, its yellow eyes flashing with malicious glee. Other orcs, just as foul, ran in every direction, crying things in their Black Speech and swinging their swords. Some had cross bows, some had great iron hatchets, some had steel hammers and twisted swords. There were more than Sam could count. They were everywhere.

"FIND THE HALFLINGS!" Cried the one with the yellow eyes. As of yet it had not seen Sam, crouched on the ground by the trees, his elven cloak camouflaging him. Sam's first instinct was to get up and run, run as fast and as far as he could away from these creatures but he knew that he could not; he would never get far enough away and there was always the chance that he would inadvertently lead these monsters to Frodo, something that Sam was not willing to risk. So, shaking from head to foot but trying to put on a brave face, Sam tore his sword from the Barrow Downs out of its scabbard and leapt to his feet.

"Here you devils!" He cried, trying to hold the blade the way Aragorn had taught him. Several orcs, including the yellow-eyed demon, immediately turned their attention to the hobbit, pale and obviously terrified, but trying to stare them down anyway.

Shrieking, they came at him, brandishing their weapons. The yellow-eyed Uruk shouted at his band in orc speech, reminding them not to kill the little halfling, only to render it helpless.

All training forgotten, Sam counter attacked wildly. He ducked and parried, swung and stabbed. Several orcs lost a hand or an arm, but none struck the hobbit with blade or arrow. Instead they closed tight around him. Sam backed up as the orcs pressed on. Panic began to seize Sam as they grew closer. He was outnumbered twenty to one, and he knew that it would not be long before they overtook him completely.

"Strider!!" He cried, swinging his sword at another, smaller orc. "Strider! Legolas!" Sam's back struck a tree behind him. The orcs surrounded him on all sides. "Strider! ARAGORN!" Sam's cries reached a frantic pitch. No one could hear him; they were all either busy with enemies of their own or too far away. Sam was utterly alone.

The orcs were not at all pleased with this little rat who had dared set blade to their flesh. He had fought viciously, too viciously for their liking. He had to be subdued.

The yellow eyed orc pushed its way through the crowd of its kin. Sam looked up at it with fire in his eyes. He ceased shouting for his companions and tightened his grip on the barrows-sword until his finger nails bit into his skin.

"Stay back!" Sam cried, pressing his back against the tree and raising the blade in front of him. Yellow-eyes growled, smelling the halfling's fear and feeding from it. Mustering up all his courage, Sam thrust forward, aiming for Yellow-eyes' chest. The orc caught Sam by the arm and raised its fist. The young hobbit pulled but could not get free. The fist swung down.

Sam's sword fell to the ground.

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Merry gasped and dove to the ground beneath some thorny bushes, dragging Pippin along with him.

"Ow!" exclaimed Pippin. He had scratched his knees in the fall. "Merry, what-"

"Hush! Its one of those orcs....." Merry whispered. No sooner had the words been spoken that a huge, twisted Uruk crashed through the trees a few feet from their hiding place. It looked around, its oddly tiny eyes darting this way and that, trying to locate the hidden hobbits. Pippin held his breath and buried his face in his elder cousin's shirt jacket. Merry put his arm protectively around the youngster and kept his eyes on their predator. His eyes widened in fear as another orc joined the one already in the clearing. The two Uruks shouted at one another in Black Speech.

Pippin whimpered and Merry tightened his grip around the lad. His heart pounded loudly in his ears. In another moment they would be caught. Merry hardened his will and quickly formulated a plan. He could not allow the foul things to get his cousin. He refused to let them both get discovered.

"Stay here, Pip. Don't move for anything. Promise me you won't move for anything!" Merry whispered very softly, hardly daring to breathe.

"But Merry-"

"Promise me!"

Pippin stared at his cousin in fear. He mouthed a few soundless words before managing "I promise....I promise, Merry."

Merry managed a grim smile. "Good lad." He moved to get out from beneath the shrubs. Pippin grabbed at his cousin's sleeve in horror.

"You're not! You're not!"

"I'm going to lead them away, Pip! Stay there! You promised!"

Merry readied himself to run out there and lead the two Uruk's away from Pippin. Without warning a long, hairy arm reached into the bushes and grabbed Pip by the collar, hauling him up and causing him to be scratched by the thorns.

"Hoy!" Merry shouted as he jumped to his feet, sword in hand. The orc that had grabbed Pippin laughed, a wheezy, scratchy sound. "Halflings!" It cried in triumph. Merry swung at its hand, lobbing it off at the wrist. Pippin fell back into the bushes. The orc howled and held its bleeding hand. The other two orcs snatched at Merry but he ducked away from them, and grabbed Pippin again, running out from the bushes and tearing both their beloved elven cloaks in the process.

"Run! Run!" He cried.

"I am running!" Pippin shouted back, his voice wavery with frightened tears. The two uninjured Uruk's sped after the hobbits, leaving their comrade bleeding and wailing by the bushes.

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Frodo reached the boats. He stood on the shore, tears streaming from his eyes, hating himself and hating the Ring even more. "Please........Elbereth protect them," he sighed, choking back more tears. He had to be brave. The boats awaited.

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With a final cry Aragorn pulled his sword from his fallen foe. Enemies lay dead all around, but there were more still, coming for them. Nearby, Legolas helped Gimli to his feet. Suddenly the elf's fair head jerked upward, catching sound of something his two companions could not. In his shock, Legolas released Gimli's hand and the dwarf crashed back to the ground.

"What!" hollered Gimli, irritated. He rose to his feet on his own, ready for a biting retort on the elf's strength, but the look on Legolas' face stopped any words from coming.

"What is it, Legolas?" Aragorn asked, seeing the horror struck look on his friend's face.

"Its the little ones," Legolas cried. "I heard one of them.....he was screaming." A horn screamed through the forest, three short bursts. It was no orc horn. It was the white horn of Gondor.

"Boromir!" cried Aragorn.

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Pippin suppressed a second wail as he looked over the edge of the cliff he and Merry had come to. Below the dark water of the river swirled. The drop was not very high, ten feet perhaps, but Pippin could not swim. The two orcs started up the hill. Merry stood in front of his younger cousin. They were trapped, he knew, but hope had come out of the forest in the form of Boromir, captain of Gondor. Even as the orcs closed in, the human was running after them, sword drawn and ready, his horn to his lips, calling for help. Perhaps it would be alright after all.

Seeing the man coming to attack, the first Uruk cursed and said to the other, "Take care of that one. I'll get the squeakers." The second Uruk nodded and turned with a yell and a raise of its ax. Boromir jumped to meet the attack. Weapons met and clanged together.

"Go!" Boromir cried to the dumbstruck hobbits. "Go, now!"

Merry gritted his teeth. They could not go, not with the other Uruk Hai in their way. They were within arm's reach of it now; it would have them in another few steps. Pippin looked down at the sword in his hand. Was it to be useless? Were he and Merry just to stand there like stones, like mindless prey before the predator? Gulping, Pippin looked back to the orc. Its red eyes gleamed like fire, and Pippin could see Merry and himself reflected in the orcs harsh stare. He felt Merry tense, ready for the inevitable onslaught. Down at the bottom of the hill, Boromir's sword struck true. The big Uruk Hai fell with a shriek, the blade buried up to the hilt in its vitals. Boromir pulled his sword free and blew again three short bursts on the horn of Gondor. Then he charged up the hill.

The red eyed goblin turned, sensing the man's approach. Merry leapt into action, small sword flying. Pippin hesitated a moment longer before his eyes hardened and with the cry of "for the Shire!" he followed Merry. The orc halted, caught between an angry full sized warrior and two pint sized attackers. Merry and Pippin aimed for the beast's legs, hoping to knock it off guard while it defended against Boromir. The creature howled in anger, but otherwise showed no sign of pain. Boromir struck again and again, but his foe was too swift and strong; every blow was countered.

Pippin darted around to Boromir's side; hoping to use his small stature to hit a vital target. Merry could not get around; every attempt he made to get in front of the creature was blocked by the orc itself or the danger of being hit by Boromir's swinging blade. And, unbeknownst to Boromir, every hit that he made was driving the orc further and further up the cliff. Merry was getting dangerously close to the edge.

Arrows began flying out of the shadowy woods. More orcs were coming, but there was no sign of Aragorn or any other of the Company. Boromir did not relent; he had failed in his struggle against the Ring, he would not allow himself to fail at defending Frodo's kin. Guilt and determination drove him on. The orc gained no ground against the angered captain.

Merry stepped backwards as the orc backed up further. This time, however, there was no ground behind him. With a cry he sprung forward away from the cliff's edge. His arms flailed wildly, and the sword he had carried over such long distances slipped from his grasp and fell into the river below. Pippin saw and cried, "Boromir, Boromir, stop! Stop, you are driving Merry over the side!"

Boromir halted in surprise at Pippin's cry. He was distracted only for a moment, but that was all the Uruk Hai needed. With an enraged grunt it swung its sword. The flat side struck Boromir in the arm with such force that he was thrown back, tumbling down the hill side.

With a shout Pippin turned, praying that his human friend was not dead. Great relief washed over the youngster as Boromir stood, albeit unsteadily.

"Pip, run away!" Merry's cry was almost deafening. The red eyed monstrosity snatched at the youngest member of the Fellowship. Merry latched onto the scarred arm and bit as hard as he could. With a curse the orc yanked its arm away, setting Merry off balance. He stumbled backwards, and again was met with nothing beneath his feet. His face contorted in a look of panic and his arms groped frantically for something to latch onto.

The red eyed Uruk Hai realized its mistake too late, and snatched at its prey, only to be met with air as Merry's cloak eluded the grabbing hands. With a cry Merry tumbled over the edge of the cliff.

Pippin abandoned all rational thought as he watched his cousin disappear over the edge. A heart broken yell burst from his lips. Tears burned in his eyes, but he did not heed them. Foolishly he attacked the orc from the front, not even coherently planning his movements, just stabbing and slashing wildly. Boromir had risen to his feet and flew to the hobbit's aide. More arrows flew, all aiming for the large warrior. One struck him in the shoulder; he winced but otherwise ignored it. Now the orcs themselves emerged from the trees. They came from all sides; it was as if all of Mordor was upon them. Most went for Boromir. More arrows pierced him: chest, stomach, shoulder. Pain wracked the warrior's body, but still he did not give up. Through the mess of fangs and claws he caught side of Pippin. Tears flew from the halfling's eyes as he attacked the red eyed demon with all that he had.

Guilt and despair overwhelmed Boromir as another arrow pierced him, splitting the white horn into two pieces. This arrow hit too deep, and Boromir fell two his knees, unable to stand any longer. Through eyes already blurring he saw the orc with the fire red eyes grab Pippin by the wrist and wrench the sword away, tossing it aside like so much garbage. Ignoring the hobbit's kicking and screaming, the demon picked him up and ran to join his brethren. The rest of the orcs ran off with a cry of triumph. Boromir was left bleeding on the ground of Amon Hen. The world around him sounded muffled, as if heard from deep under water. Vaguely Boromir could hear Pippin crying his name. Boromir lowered his head in shame. The dirt beneath his torn body was speckled with blood and tears. The proud warrior of Gondor had utterly failed.

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Merry hit the water on his back with loud splash. Cold black water closed in over his head. The swift current quickly dragged him deeper, and he kicked hard and fast to get to the surface. Thanking the higher powers for being a Brandybuck and knowing how to swim, Merry broke the surface and struggled to stay above water. The land sped past him. The sounds of battle grew fainter and fainter. Three times the lad was tugged back underwater by the unrelenting undertow, and each time he surfaced he grew more tired and weak. He could not reach the shore. He could only allow himself to be taken closer and closer to the falls.

The water gave another sharp tug, and Merry went under again. This time he could not force his way back up to the surface. Water poured into his mouth and he choked. He arms flailed wildly. Above him, the sun sparkled like crystal through the water. Merry wondered absently if it would be painful to die.

Suddenly his waving hand was grabbed from above and he was hauled above the water, choking and sputtering. Bewildered and confused, he willed his oxygen deprived eyes to focus. Someone was still holding onto his hand. An orc? No, definitely not an orc. An orc would not save him. Then who........

Merry's eyes focus at last and he looked up into the blue eyes of his rescuer.

"Frodo?!"

TBC

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A/N: Well, that was certainly a new experience. I apologize if the action sequences are not up to par. I will gladly take any suggestions! Next chapter: Frodo and Merry set off on the long path to Mordor. Aragorn says goodbye to a comrade in arms. Legolas mulls over the strangeness of human mortality once again. Gimli sets out to look for Sam, unsure of where the gardener had gone to. Pippin meets Yellow-eyes. Fun for everyone!