Disclaimer- I own nothing.

A big shout out to Lyn, at whose behest I reposted and fixed a great many things; I thank her very much.

Oh, and please people, if you don't like it, please keep it civil and tell me nicely. I had a very rude reviewer who insulted me so much I took their reviews off.

Pirates, ye be warned.

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Aragorn looked at Gabrielin, and held the necklace to his chest. At a faint groan from Boromir, the Dunadan turned to his wounded friend.

"Can you hear me, Boromir? Boromir?" The big man nodded slowly, each slight movement an arduous task.

"They took the little ones."

"Be still."

"Frodo! Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go."

"Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him."

"The Ring is beyond our reach now."

"Forgive me. I did not see it. I have failed you all." He seemed close to tears at his moment of weakness.

"No, Boromir, you fought bravely! You have kept your honor. And it is not your fault that the ring tempted you-far better men have fallen to it. I will draw out the arrow now." The Gondorian smiled weakly.

"I have had...worse. Go on with your work." The warrior's eyes slid shut, steeling them selves for pain beyond measure and Aragorn unsheathed the knife at his waist.

There was a chilling silence in the grove of dead as the shaft came clean.

Hefting the larger man up, an arm around his shoulder, the two walked staggeringly back to the camp, where Gimli was cleaning his axe. He jumped up to report.

"Sam and Frodo left, Aragorn...Aule help us, what happened to him?" Gimli looked at the bloodied Boromir, a fear in his eyes as yet unseen.

"And where is Gabrielin?"

"Gabrielin is dead, Merry and Pippin taken by orcs. I have bound his wound, but we must make haste to Rohan for proper medicine. The Uruks at taking the hobbits to Isengard- Saruman knows one halfling, at least, has the Ring." Gimli looked at Boromir, and helped the larger man sit down with his back against the walled ruins, and set off with Aragorn to retrieve Gabrielin's body.

The Dunedin laid his sister-friend in the white Lórien boat, murderously close to tears, arraying her hair over the folded pillow of her cloak and brushing the leaves from her corpse. Aragorn looked about for a sprout of flowers to lay in her hands as her bow would have lain, but this forest had no such friendly sprays. He turned back from gazing into the forest to see Boromir unsteadily clasping her hands around his horn. The Gondorian stood back, shaking.

"Why do you do this? Your father will despair to see your horn in hands not your own."

"If the king is to return, than the office of the stewards will meet what death should have been mine. The tokens of the heir ship of the house of Húrin will come to naught. Let her take the horn which the first sons of Gondor's Stewards have bourn for long ages past, so that whomever comes upon this boat will know that by whatever great deed she met death she held favor with the son of Denethor, by whatever deed she died she won Boromir's respect and this is what ill placed gift he has to repay her greatest sacrifice" Aragorn smiled gravely, and together they two pushed the boat into the river, setting it adrift over the falls. Aragorn briefly whisper sang to the passing wind, and turned back, running his fingers over the medallion in his hands in thought. Some minute sound broke his reveries, and he pocketed the necklace.

"We must make haste if we are to follow Merry and Pippin. Not all bounds of fellowship will break at this parting of ways. Take only what we need." Gimli smiled, and Boromir, half sleeping on his feet, wearily smiled too.

"Let us hunt some orc." Injured though he was, Boromir's warlike nature still reigned in his mindset.

The plains stretched before the three hunters, the grass waving like a banner in the breeze. Suddenly, Boromir dropped to the ground, gasping for breath. Aragorn looked at his face.

"The poison-it is setting in. Let us hope-" he looked across looked across the hillocks, listening intently. He pulled the Lórien cloak over Boromir's now still body at the sound of hoof beats. An eored of Riders thundered by, green flags waving, unnoticing of the three in Lórien green, blending in with the grassy carpets. Aragorn cried out.

"Riders of Rohan! What news from the mark?" The head rider turned with a gesture of his spear, and the tide of horse and man flesh turned as one fluid wave, until the triadic company was surrounded with the spears of the Rohirrim. The head rider broke into the circle, his tall white horse tailed helm showing his high of rank.

"What business do a dwarf and a man have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly." Gimli smiled, brash and haughty.

"Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine."

The captain scowled.

"I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground." Aragorn glowered at the dwarf in question before he could say more.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Glóin. We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king." The rider jumped lightly off his horse, his voice grim.

"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe. Not even his own kin." At this, he drew his helmet off. "And since you were honest enough to tell me your names, I shall tell you mine-Éomer, son of Éomund. Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished." His frown told the company of three that things were dourer than they seemed. Éomer went on. "The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets." He turned a mistrustful and condemning face at the threesome.

"We are not spies." Aragorn assured him in his serious way.

"Then why is it you travel with a package you have hidden from our sight, and you have not yet told us what it is?" At this, Aragorn motioned for the man to kneel beside the still form, drawing the cloak back to reveal the sleeping Boromir, turning a ghastly pale. Éomer drew back.

"The son of the Steward? How came him by those wounds, that he lies so near the halls of his fathers? When the horse we lent him turned back rider- less, minds were not at peace."

"We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain, the same who gave him the wound that frails him. They've taken two of our friends captive."

"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."

"But there were two hobbits. Did you see two hobbits with them?" Gimli's hope was wearing ragged round the edges.

"They would be small – only children to your eyes."

"We left none alive. If any escaped our attack, then it was by magic or great luck of fate. We piled the carcasses and burned them."

"Dead?"

"I am sorry." He paused, thinking of something. "During the battle I saw what appeared to be boys go into Fangorn... perhaps your friends are there. I thought none of it last night ...the heat of battle does strange things to men's minds and it is of ill fortune to trust to visions and portents." He ignored the fearful look on Gimli's awestruck face, and whistled two horses forward.

"Hasufel! Arod! May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. Farewell." He mounted up, his face still in it's grim line. "Look for your friends. The golden hall is near, and there are healers there who will care for the Captain Heir. But do not trust to hope; it has forsaken these lands. The chances of your friends with life remaining still are slim." He beckoned to his riders, swinging his lance up so the flag at it's tip caught the breeze. "We ride north!"

"Fangorn," said Gimli, awestruck, "What madness drove them in there?" Boromir stirred on the ground, and Aragorn looked at his comrade in arms. The bigger man rose, steadied himself, and started off after Gimli, who was wandering towards the smoking pile with a wide eyed look, still stupefied. Aragorn marveled inwardly at Boromir's strength for a minute, and then ran to catch up.

The dark depths of Fangorn loomed like a promise of death, moss swinging from branches like a noose, the air still and stretched calm throughout. Gimli put a finger to a stain on a leaf, tasting the blackish substance, and promptly spitting it back out.

"Orc blood."

Aragorn looked at the impressions in the ground. Something very big had walked here.

"These are strange tracks."

Boromir was still marvelling.

"The air is so close in here. This forest is old, very old. " What seemed to be a groan reverberated through the forest, and Gimli raised his axe, wary should anything try to attack.

"Gimli!" Aragorn whispered to the dwarf, signalling with his hand to lower the weapon.

"Huh?"

"Lower your axe." The dwarf realized what the trees had seen as a threat, and lowered the weapon.

"Oh." Boromir's well-trained warrior eyes narrowed, and he beckoned Aragorn closer.

"Something is out there." Aragorn looked at him, bewildered, and out of the corner of his eye, saw a white flicker of a cloak.

"What do you see?"

"The White Wizard approaches."

"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us." Aragorn's grip on his sword tightened, as did Boromir's, and Gimli held his axe tighter. "We must be quick." With a dart of his eyes, Aragorn swung around, a wild yell escaping his mouth, the others doing likewise.

They were met with a bright light, shining straight in their eyes, blinding them. Aragorn and Boromir dropped their swords, where they lay, still smoking from the heat of the wizard's spell, in the half decaying leaves. Gimli's axe, which he had thrown, also lay at the wizard's feet. When he spoke, his voice was distant, cold, and imperious.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits."

"Where are they?" Aragorn was worried, for after Éomer's warning, things would be dire for their friends if this wizard were who they thought he was.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?" It did not.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" The light dimmed, and from it stepped forth Gandalf, clad in white, a polished ivory staff in his aged fingers. Boromir and Gimli kissed their faces to the ground, but Aragorn still stood, amazed, and confused. When at last someone spoke, the Dunadan was clearly more confused than he let on.

"It cannot be. You fell." The Gandalf smiled.

"Through fire and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me. And I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and everyday was as long as a life-age of the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back until my task is done." Aragorn marvelled, and finally, smiled.

"Gandalf!" The being was confused.

"Gandalf? Yes... That's what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name." He smiled at the thought. Gimli's voice was most beatific.

"Gandalf!" Gandalf's eyes twinkled with the merriment they had always had when good food and good company, not to mention good pipeweed, were to be had.

"I am Gandalf the White. And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide." He looked about, and his eyes fell on Boromir, who bowed his head. " So she is gone?" Aragorn nodded sadly. Gandalf thought about this, and smiled slightly. "The path is changed for this...but for good or for evil, my heart cannot tell."

As the foursome walked through the forest, Gandalf began to speak, his voice a bit sharper than it had been, a little bit more edged.

"One stage of your journey is over, another begins. War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras with all speed." They had reached the edge of the forest, and Gandalf whistled piercingly, the sound echoing in the vale. Over the hills came a spark of white mane, tossing in the wind. Boromir looked on in fascination, his eyes wide.

"That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell." The white creature came to a halt in front of Gandalf, his liquid eyes calm and understanding, as horses are wont to be. Gandalf stroked his nose affectionately.

"Shadowfax. He's the lord of all horses and he's been my friend through many dangers. Come, my friends...the Golden Hall is but a little ways off. If we ride hard, we may yet be there by day's end."

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Author's notes. In case you have not noticed yet, I reposted this to appease the gods (and my tetchy reviewers.... I still love you all though!)

-evil overlord- to speak candidly and with my anger and wish to pummel you in check, please stay away from the rest of my work, ye of little imagination and large mental confine. And how do you know he has no sister? Tolkien gives him A VERY VERY VERY SMALL PART, so small, in fact, that Legolas is one character I have no qualms about giving siblings, as the only family of his ever mentioned is his father, Thranduil. Thank you. * seethes, breathes in very deeply to calm herself before going on.*

-LOTR nutcase- I STILL LOVE YOU!

And from the depths of my heart, I apologize! I mean for this to follow the three hunters, and Rhos to follow Gondor...I am truly sorry! Really, I am! * Begs for forgiveness on bended knees* There will be more Faramir there soon, I assure you! And well...when I wrote this, I didn't feel that any of my own dialogue was needed...the next chapter has much more, I assure you.

I was telling my buddy Katie about all your loverly reviews and how you are my absolute favourite online persona right now, and all she could say was "Aren't my pearl snap buttons just the bomb?" Sure, chuck my Pulitzer dreams out the window. And I had to include the book canon thing or else it wouldn't be fair to the man who wrote the books. (ALL HAIL TOLKIEN!) It was one of my moments of genius, I must say.

-magicgirl810- after reading this, I think I answered you question. (And took your suggestion! Thanks muchly!)

-mystery science seed 3000 – I was thinking of doing a repost with some new dialogue at the end of amon hen, but decided to stick said discussion somewhere else. I assure you, things will play out.

-Ahthesigner- we talked in math. And it's all right...I just have this gift from god. And lots of time on my hands.