///Just so everyone knows, Morenore is not made up by me, I have found maps that contain the Eastern Darklands!!///

Ch. 36

Pippin felt as if he'd been hit hard in the stomach. All air left his lungs and he became overly dizzy. He tried to take a deep breath to steady himself, but tottered uneasily on his feet, which had gone numb. He'd known what the wound had meant, but to hear it spoken aloud was more than he could handle- and apparently more than Gimli could handle.

"What?" he sputtered. "I thought they were lost in the fires of Mount Doom! How can they be here?"

Gandalf had no answer. Elrond stepped forward to respond in his stead. "They have not returned. This is not the work of Ring-Wraiths. They merely provided the entrance area for an easy blow. Morgul blades came into no contact with Frodo this age. This is the work of a far greater foe." He reached down and pulled apart Frodo's shirt, exposing the wound- not that you could see it.

What appeared to be a dark green sort of goo was forcing itself out of the hole and spreading over Frodo's smooth torso. Elrond grabbed one of the cloths used to heal Aragorn and wiped it through the ooze, clearing the area for everyone to see the opening.

An icy blue coating surrounded the wound. The green had no visible source. Frodo's blood was still visible. The green just seemed to form itself from nowhere into droplets the size of nuts before either dripping down or popping to release a foul smelling liquid.

"What is that?" asked Merry.

"It is what happens when an evil wound, even a healed one, is hit by a Morenore blade," Elrond said, his eyes darting back and forth around the room.

"I have never heard of that place," said Aragorn, breaking his silence.

Arwen opened her mouth and began. "Morenore is across the Inner Sea, to the Southeast of Middle Earth. Only one person that I know has ever been there." At this point, she and Tarien shared a glance. "Tarien escaped from there. Her family was kidnapped when she was a small child. She was the only survivor. It is an evil wasteland. Orcs, Uruk-hai, and Wraiths are nothing compared to the evil that dwells there. A horror that cannot be described in mere words controls all shores in that festering place. From the looks of this wound that mars the small body of Frodo, they have lost contentment in their own evil filth and are trying to control- another place. The creatures that live there do not share land. They will destroy everything and everyone that rests where they wish to dominate."

"Sounds like orcs to me," muttered Gimli. "And what are orcs doing here if this Morenore is the mastermind behind this apocalypse?"

"Do you not understand?"

Everyone turned at the sound of the voice, shocked.

Frodo looked around at everyone and said, "Orcs are mere puppets to these things. I have seen what awaits us if we do not act."

"What is it, Frodo?" asked Gandalf.

"It's. . . us."

"What do you mean?" asked Legolas, nonplussed.

"I saw. . . Gandalf. . . coming towards me. I walked over. By the time I reached him, Pippin stood before me instead. And then. . . it became me. I can't explain how. Slowly, so slowly I didn't realize what was happening until the transformation was nearly complete. Then. . . I stabbed me. I mean, whatever it was stabbed me."

Tarien looked horrified. "Kromagul," she whispered.