Back again, and rather frazzled as I am preparing for the release of The Return of the King (only two more days!!! J ), and was quite surprised to learn (while frantically searching through boxes in the attic), that my dad owns several cloaks. I know the last chapter left a lot to be desired, and I am working on moving away from the fluff (although, if you did like it, speak up). Many of you have e-mailed me expressing confusion as to exactly what is going on, so I will try to clear up a few things this time round. I cannot believe how much time has passed since I started this fic. I am afraid this will be my first and last fanfiction, as I am working on something on fictionpress right now. You guys are so great, and I hope you keep reading as well as tell other people about this!

Disclaimer: BLAH. As I have said countless times before, Tolkien is smart, and I am stupid, so therefore, none of this belongs to me *shakes head dejectedly.

Forest of Sorrow

The four travelers awoke the next morning stiff and tired from their dramatic escape. Pippin built a small fire and put a pot of water on to boil. There were no streams in this wasteland, but they had plenty of food and water in their packs.

"Get up, sleepyhead." She didn't need telling twice. The smells of breakfast had already awoken her, and she had lain with her eyes closed for a time, on that border between the world of dreams and reality. Eowyn got up as soon as Pippin had poked her, and was now eating her small amount of rations. At least, she thought to herself, this is better than the slave camp. She looked around, and her gaze rested on Gandalf. He was an old man, and his face was warped and wrinkled, but not in an unkindly manner. He seemed gentle, and yet a power seemed to radiate from his very being.

Once they had finished their meal, they shouldered their packs and set off again. After walking for a while in silence, Eowyn voiced one of the many questions she had been burning to ask.

"Where are we heading?" There was a long silence. Gandalf spoke in a weary and patient voice.

"We are headed for Rivendel, the former kingdom of the elves. We are going there to seek refuge, get our plans together and supplies in order, and possibly, to find some old friends." The look Ewoyn gave the old man was vacant, but no one explained further.

"Gandalf, I know you are hoping that some of the elves escaped Sauron by hiding in Rivendel, but the power of the city is not such a strong defense against such evil. We will most likely only find ruins of what was once the greatest city in all of Middle Earth."

"Nonsense. I may have lost my power, but I have not lost my mind. The magic within that forest is in the very earth itself. A force such as Sauron's could not set foot in a place so full of love for nature and elf magic. There will be survivors." He said these last words with such confidence, that Eowyn's heart leapt. But a look at Aragorn told her that he believed the wizard to be living off false hope. Pippin piped in suddenly.

"So you really have then, I mean, lost your magic?"

"I am afraid so," the old wizard said as he stared across the blank plateau. The sun was already directyl above them, and nothing except a tiny green speck in the distance could be sen on the horizon. Eowyn wonderd how they even knew the direction they traveled in. Her thougth were interrupted by Gandalf's voice again.

"Much happened when Sauron came into power," he explained to Pippin, who was hanging on his every word. "The race of men turned on eachother, all powerful beings lost their strength, and magic seeped out of the wise ones and into the Dark Lord. We can speak using our minds now. That was a side effect he did not count on. When Frodo's will was broken, it brought us all closer together in the quest for justice. If another death from our force was to occur, we would feel it.." He stopped suddenly, clutching at his chest, and collapsed before them. The other three could feel a pin in their hearts too, as if they were being ripped out of their bodies. They fell to the ground, crying out in pain and remorse. For just as Gandalf had uttered those words, another one of their own had died.

Eventually, they all got up again, but even when they had the strength to stand, it felt as though a part of them was missing. Eowyn caught her breath, as she spotted Aragorn. He was lying on the ground, his fingers digging into the earth until the flesh aroung his knuckles turned white. If he was a man to cry, he would be doing so now. But his expression said enough. The utmost sorrow clutched him to a point where he did not even have the will to stands again. When they finally pulled him up to standing, his face was pale and he was shaking.

"It was Arwen," he said softly, then turned, and started to move towards the small dot on the horizon once more. His walk was frail, like that of a man who has lost everything, and has nothing left to do but live out the rest of his meaningless days. Seeing the pain he was in, Eowyn stepped forward and walked alongside of him. They struggled on in silence, Eowyn and Aragorn in front with Gandalf and Pippin close behind. And that was how they were when they reached the edge of the great forest.

I know it's short, but I don't have much time. I promise to write an extra-long one next Sunday to make up for it. In the meanime, enjoy Trilogy Tuesday and holiday break! : )