Silent as a shadow, it stole down the corridor, yellow eyes darting left and right to ensure secrecy. Occasionally, when its head turned just enough for its eyes to catch the light of the bracketed torches along the wall, a hint of green glinted in their depths, but so faint it might have been only a trick of the flames.

A door loomed ahead. Fumbling with a strip of scrap metal made into a rude imitation of a key, the creature wetted the lock and hinges with a few drops of crude oil and carefully—ever so carefully—eased the portal open without a sound. On the floor opposite the door lay a huddle of rags, snippets of bruised flesh visible here and there where the rags had fallen away. The surrounding stone was stained brown with dried blood.

Kneeling, Shadrach the Uruk-Hai rinsed the worst of Elf's wounds with what clean water she had been able to find and tucked a leaf-wrapped package under the archer's palm. Then she stood, closed the door, and scurried away.

ειδαсαг

Merry and Pippin stared at the Man, eyes wide open in astonishment, looking ridiculous with coney juices dribbling down their chins.

"Pray understand, Masters Hobbit," Aragorn pleaded, misunderstanding the source of their shock. "Legolas is a brother to me, and I cannot leave him there in Saruman's stinking hellhole. You will not sway me. Now, once you have had your fill of coney, you must start on your journey. Trek east of here until you round the edge of the Misty Mountains, and then follow the edge of Fangorn Forest northward to the River Limlight. From there—"

"I beg your pardon, Strider!" Merry interrupted indignantly.

"We shall of course be coming with you," Pippin explained to the Ranger's puzzled face.

"You cannot. The Uruks would be upon you in moments, if either of you even managed to get past the outer guard! Perhaps traveling without me is not as safe as traveling with me, but it is a good deal less dangerous than attempting to steal within the dwelling-place of a wizard!"

"That is exactly what you propose to do, Strider, and you'll be needing our help if you expect to come out of it alive," Pippin insisted.

"He's right," Merry agreed. "Hobbits are some of the best sneaksters in Middle Earth, you know, especially Pip and I—how do you think we've managed to get in the cellars so many times without being caught?"

"And we are friends of Legolas too. We are coming with you!"

"Besides—"

Aragorn held up his hands placatingly. "Please, no more!" he begged, laughing in spite of himself. "If you attack Saruman's forces in the same manner, we shall be in and out of Orthanc in no time!

"However," he added sternly, "there will be no opportunity for you to do so, as you are not coming with me and are instead going to journey to Lothlórien to meet the others."

"But—"

"You must. They will continue on the Quest without us if you do not apprise them of my plans and progress. Remember, the rest of our Fellowship believes that you are both most likely dead. Frodo and Sam are greatly worried for you; and Frodo will need your friendship and support in the times ahead. You have no choice, Hobbits. I cannot take you with me, and you cannot stay here. A patrol would soon find you—indeed, one should have already. I will provide you with supplies. You must go."

"Absolutely no—"

"Do as I say, Meriadoc!"

Cowed, Merry bent his head. "Yes, Strider," he and Pippin said sadly.

ειδαсαг

Frodo looked out from the mouth of the cave, staring back down his road of recent days without really seeing what lay there. Rings of smoke drifted into the twilight as he puffed steadily away, thinking, nibbling on the end of his pipe as he did so. He was wondering, wondering about Merry and Pippin and Strider and Legolas. Were they, any of them, alive? Were they hurt? What if they were struggling through the mountains at this very moment, wounded? Frodo had done everything he could to delay his company's progress; but Boromir, though convalescing, still needed care, care he would not get anywhere but in the Golden Wood. And the Ring…

Frodo's brow furrowed, and in that moment, he looked much older that his fifty years. The Ring. The true source of all his worries. Sometimes at night, he could hear it whispering in his head in tongues he did not understand. He was afraid of it, deathly afraid, and without Gandalf, Frodo was no longer sure it could be controlled.

Behind him, Boromir sighed and rolled over in his sleep.

For that matter, Frodo was no longer sure he could control himself.

ειδαсαг

Legolas awoke with a sinking sense of disappointment, frustrated that he was still within the same stone square of walls, frustrated that the torch outside still illuminated the dismal surroundings, frustrated that his body had not obeyed his mind and simply died. Nermanï umta'ánt?he wondered bitterly.

There was something under his palm. With an effort, the Elf forced himself into a sitting position, disregarding the streaks of pain that flashed through him. They were routine by now. Lifting his hand, he discovered a small leaf-wrapped package lying on the dirty floor. Not only that, but his wounds were—relatively speaking—clean. How in Arda…

Eagerly the archer unwrapped the package, stiff hands fumbling through the movements. Though one eye was bruised shut and sitting up had made him dizzy, Legolas could still make out what the leaves contained: lembas bread! He wolfed down half without pause, and then stopped to savor the woodland sweetness on his swollen lips and tongue. Finished, Legolas slumped back against the wall, eyes closed. Eating had exhausted him, but he was content. The lembas bread had given him much more than simple sustenance; it had given him back his hope.

Casting his eyes up to the dank ceiling, the Elf called an image of the night sky into his mind, the ghost of a smile lighting up his too-pale face. Diollë, Elbereth. Diollë sai'ikotanë.

ειδαсαг

Quick as a hunting wolf, quiet as a shadow, Aragorn ghosted behind the second of the Uruk-hai sentry lines. It had not been easy. Indeed, he had nearly been caught in three separate instances. The guards were wary; more so, now that intruders had both entered Orthanc and escaped in almost the same breath. None wished to displease their master, so they all trained their yellow eyes against the glare of the sun and strained to make out even the smallest hint of a fresh invasion.

Aragorn paused at a hollow in the ground to rest a moment. He had chosen the day to travel, because although the Uruks had better day-vision than their pureblooded Orc counterparts, they were still not up to the task of tracking a Ranger's movements. Carefully, he eased himself forward, and waited until a patrolling guard had passed him by—no more than a few feet away. Then the Man was up and gone without a trace, and anything the Uruk saw could have been nothing more than the wavering of light, or the passing of a cloud.

ειδαсαг

phew. Well. Vacation was great. Kauai is gorgeous. But of course it's back to school as of tomorrow, with a three hour time difference…(sigh). I really must be a masochist or something. By the bye, THANK YOU SO MUCH to those of you who wrote reviews. Makes my day. Anyways, I apologize ahead of time for any bizarre review-responses I write. I was up by 10 am yesterday, and then went to the beach/snorkeled/traveled on and in various airplanes and cars, and it is now past 3 pm the following day. Love it.

Translations: "What more does it need?"

"Thank you, Elbereth. Thank you so much."

Reviews! (woot!)

Werewolf's One—glad you like the story. Yeah, my chappies are agonizingly short, I know, but it's either that or get hounded by bloodthirsty reviewers 24/7. This way I can just keep stringing you all along on these nice little tidbits…like leaving a bread trail for squirrels or something. (Excuse the lame analogy; I've been up since 7 a.m. Kauai time, which means 10 am normal time, and it is now…3:15 pm the following day. It's rough.)

Lunasariel—at the risk of being a copycat, Hmmm…Hmmm…HMMMM!

Starsmiles—yeah, aren't hobbits cute? Gotta love em.

Kelsey Estel—true. But I tried to fix it this time around, so take two…

Gwenneth—ha! Reeled in another one! Sorry, I just get excited whenever new reviewers come in. welcome to the fold!

Gods-girl2004—well, why wouldn't there be Uruks in Moria? Or rather, why couldn't there be. It's a plausible starting point. And as for Strider hunting rabbits, let's pretend that all the big game has been scared off by the Uruks, but they're too stupid to catch rabbits, which are therefore abundant. Our heroes have to eat something, after all.

Arithon—poor Legolas. Ah well. Maybe he'll be rescued soon—then again, maybe not. HA! YOU'LL NEVER KNOW! Until it gets written and posted, I suppose, but whatever.

Moonyasha—you know, on tv, they always kick whatever's broken to fix it…sadly, sometimes that actually works.

NightShadow131—yeah, the hobbits just can't come along. They'd be Orc food, or warg food, or something like that, which would really be just too sad. So they get to stay behind. But maybe I'll make them follow Aragorn in, or maybe they'll just hang out in the woods somewhere. I dunno. Decisions, decisions…