A/N: Begging your pardons for the long wait, had a serious case of writer's block, and life caught up with me.. so I've kept the baton with me for some time. We will greatly appreciate reviews. Hannon lle.

Chapter 7

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Pippin asked. His legs were aching terribly and beginning to feel rather wobbly.

"There's nothing but grass and trees for leagues around," Merry said miserably as he turned a full round, standing on his toes and trying to see as far as he could.

Frodo looked uncertain. "I'm not sure what lies in which direction any more," he admitted.

"We're lost?" Pippin all but screamed.

"Strider oughtn't to have left us alone like this," Sam groused. "Let's face it, we're lost!"

Pippin stumbled over a root in the ground and fell sprawling to the ground. "Merry, I'm- "

"Hungry I suppose," Merry finished for him with his eyes narrowed in a glare. " With you, we'll never have enough to last us."

"I'm thirsty!" Pippin said, as though defending himself. "My water-skin is empty."

Frodo silently passed him his own, and all four hobbits sat down for a much-needed rest.

"Why didn't we look more closely at the maps in Elrond's house?" Sam berated himself.

"Now, let's try to think." Frodo finally spoke up. He produced a compass from his pack, and all four watched as the thin, spidery needle quivered and then settled to a stop. "We know the Shire lies to the northeast."

"What's the use of that?" Merry asked. "We'll never find our way past the Misty Mountains."

Silence fell.

"We could go northwards," Frodo suggested at last. "We might come across somebody who could help us. Perhaps the Woodmen, Beorn, or even Legolas's people!" he said more optimistically, more for his companions' sake then anything. "What do you say?"

"What else could we do?" Sam answered for all the hobbits.

His head was aching, aching so very badly. The pain coursed through his skull, meandering and twisting its way like the Anduin into every single part of his head.

He tried to move his left leg, which did not feel as though it belonged to him. Aches pricked him relentlessly as though thousands of needles were jabbed into him all at once.

Aragorn raised his head slightly and blinked, his grey eyes discerning naught but darkness, and silence.

His sluggish mind tried to process what had transpired.

"Aragorn?"

He heard someone moving, but he could not quite link the voice to anyone he knew. That voice was so tantalizingly familiar…

"Boromir?"

"Yes."

"'Thank the Valar," Aragorn breathed.

"Not so fast," Boromir answered. "You can thank them when—or if—we ever get out of this place."

Aragorn sighed. The pain drummed throughout his skull in a staccato beat.

"Will you not speak plainly? I am in no condition to fathom any beating about the bush…"

" That was just to allow you a taste of your own medicine," Boromir answered, and Aragorn could almost picture the scowl on his face. "I believe falling through the hole saved us from that boulder, but we are no better off now, for we are buried under a fallen roof."

"We fell through the ground?" Aragorn questioned, his usually quick mind sorting things out much more slowly now.

"Exactly. Now, all we need is some help removing this debris off us…"

"You come armed as if for battle." Haldir said after a deliberate pause.

"As do you," Elrond commented calmly. "I would like to see the Lady Galadriel, if you please."

Haldir stepped closer, his sword hand raised. The blade in his hand danced playfully.

It swung almost lazily until the tip rested upon Elrond's throat. Elrond remained still as a statue, knowing better than to move.

"We received a better welcome and greater hospitality in times past," Elrohir said coldly, anger marring his face. "Tis is no polite way to greet the Lady's kin."

"In times past, as you said," Haldir's voice was cool. "The Lady sees her guests when she wishes." His lips curved into a mocking half-smile.

The sharp point jabbed Elrond a little more forcefully.

"She wishes to welcome all of you to the Halls of Mandos." His voice was even colder than Elrohir's, if possible.

"Adar!" Both Elladan and Elrohir cried in unison as they rushed to their father's side.

The ground gave way beneath them as they leapt, and father and sons stumbled as the forest floor fell away beneath them.

Tumbling, tumbling away beneath the inky depths of the ground…