Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR. Drat. The Woodland Wanderers are my friends. Scary.

"Keep true, never be ashamed of doing right; decide what you think is right and stick to it."

–George Eliot

Chapter Nine

The Right Choice

"Your friends should be back any minute, Athos told the Hobbits and Eomer. "You have a decision to make. I've agreed to let three of you go; I need two volunteers to stay, quickly."

"Give us a moment," Frodo said firmly.

"Very well." Athos left the room.

"We're in a strange place and we know no one," Frodo reminded the rest of the group. "The people who go free must be those most able to find a way to get the others out. Also, the ones who stay must be the least likely to give into whatever Confusion may offer. I suggest myself and Sam."

"With all due respect, Frodo," Merry said, "I don't like your decision at all. I, for one, will not leave this place while anyone else is here. I'll stay in Sam's place, if you're determined not to go."

"Oh, no you don't," Sam interrupted. "I'll not leave Mister Frodo here: I'm staying."

"Look at you," Eomer laughed. "One moment, we can't wait to get out of here and the next, we're arguing about who gets to stay!"

"Eomer's right. We can't all stay," Pippin agreed.

"Well, look who said something smart for once," Merry laughed. "You're right, though, Pip. Sam and I will stay." Sam nodded his agreement.

"You done yet?" Athos asked, opening the door.

"Yes," Frodo said, standing up. "Sam, Merry, take care of yourselves. We'll be back when we figure out where we are and what we're doing."

Athos led Eomer, Frodo, and Pippin out of the dungeon and to the door of the tower. On the other side stood their three replacements.

"Faramir!" Pippin exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to save the rest of you," the steward answered calmly.

"Morgan?" Athos asked, as surprised as Pippin."

"The one and only," Morgan laughed, bowing slightly.

"Morgan, I can't. You're . . . . ."

"Your friend? I don't deny it. Yet I am also a Woodland Wanderer. What was it Aragorn said: 'The company shall all fare alike?' Same here, Athos."

"You know this man?" Eomer asked.

"Yes," Athos sighed. "Peter I expected, and Faramir I'd guessed, but I'd expected Legolas or some other Elf."

"He tried," Morgan smiled. "He tried, but this was a good excuse to practice my patience. I've been needing it."

"I shouldn't be surprised."

"No, you shouldn't," Peter smiled. "We've told you before."

"Yes, I know."

"Good."

"Dwarves, Avanwë?"

"Yes, Legolas, but don't worry. They're nothing like the ones in Middle-Earth. No beards." Both Elves laughed.

"This doesn't feel right," Legolas admitted. "I don't trust this Athos."

"Neither do I, but there's nothing we can do. They've made their choice."

"You'd think Peter, at least, would have more sense."

"What do you mean."

"I'm not about to believe they'll be gentler on him just because he's already hurt. And Morgan! She's just a child!"

"She can handle it. Besides, she's Athos' friend."

"That makes her a fool."

"Agree, but she sees something in him."

"Like what?"

"I'm not quite sure. I don't know him as well as they do. They've been on his tail trying to get him to stop ever since they succeeded with Eric."

"Eric used to work for him?"

"You catch on fast. Yes, he was his second-in-command for quite some time."

"Athos reminds me of Saruman."

"Oh, is that why you don't like him?"

"I'm not sure, though I can see why they think he might change. Saruman, even, came close."

"I know he did."

"Then what's to say Athos won't, too?"

"Saruman only almost did, but that'll have to do for now. 'Almost's seem to be all we ever have on this island."

"Gleems," Athos ordered, regaining his normal tone. "Take these three to the dungeon. See that they don't escape, but do nothing to harm them until I give the word."

Almost immediately, Faramir felt a violent blow strike his back. The force almost knocked him over, but Morgan broke his fall. "Watch out for that," she warned. "Let them catch you off-guard again, and you'll see the gleems' version of 'playtime' firsthand."

"Great," Faramir grumbled under his breath. "What was it he said about not hurting us?"

"Exactly that, my good fellow," Athos interrupted. "I merely gave you a warning not to try to resist."

"If you think I'm going to take it . . . ."

"I don't really care whether you take it or not, Faramir, son of Denethor. You'll end up in the same place either way." With that, he stormed off down the hall.

"Moody today," Peter commented with what was probably an attempt at laughter.

"Move, prisoners," one of the gleems ordered.

"Which way?" Morgan asked casually. Faramir had to try hard to hold back laughter. The situation couldn't easily get much worse, and Morgan was trying to be funny!

"You know the way," the gleem responded without laughter.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, pretending to be curious. A gleem stuck her leg roughly with his sword, and the teenager stumbled backwards, right into Peter. The pair fell to the ground.

"Everyone all right?" Faramir asked, helping the others to their feet.

"I've seen worse," Peter nodded. "Believe me, Faramir, they're going easy on us now, but only because Athos told them to. You'll see what I mean later."

"So what can we do?" the steward asked.

"Pray," Morgan said calmly. "Then do everything possible. If that won't work, try the impossible. If nothing works, leave it alone and put it back where it belonged in the first place–in God's hands. Illuvatar, I think the Elves call him, Father of All. I don't know how he's called in Gondor, but just hope and pray for the best."

Faramir smiled. If nothing else, he was in good company. He'd stumbled upon a young Believer.

"Those Elves are tall," Balo said, whistling to the trees. A horse flew down out of the sky. Balo mounted.

"Very observant," Noka laughed, jumping up easily behind her. "If I can tell anything by voice, yeah, they're a lot taller."

"Yeah, well, if that's their advantage, ours is knowledge of the territory," Tandro reminded them, mounting behind the others. "They have almost know idea what they're up against. Avanwë, yes. She's been here, and Radagast as well, but the others, save perhaps Elrond and Gandalf, don't know a squirrel's tail about this place."

"Well, there's not much we can do about that, is there?" Rona asked, jumping up in front. "We haven't the time to explain half of what we'd need to. Maybe after we've fought this battle and rescued their friends, we can figure out why they were captured in the first place."

"Agreed," Noka said. "Rainbow, let's go."

"How much farther?" Gimli complained.

"Not far," Latano assured him. "The village is very close, though I fear you two will be more welcome there than me. We're not considered friends there anymore, us Woodland Wanderers."

"Why?" Aragorn asked.

"Long story," the elf sighed. "To make it short, we helped Athos escape once."

"Why?"

"Even longer story, and I'm not the right person to tell it. Remind me after all this is over, and I'll show you."

"Why can't you . . . ?" Aragorn started to ask, but then noticed that the elf had stopped. They were close to the village. "Here," the ranger offered, taking a spare cloak out of his pack. "Put this on. Maybe they won't recognize you."

"They'll recognize my voice when I shout at you because I tripped over this long thing," the elf laughed, putting it on and casting the hood over his face.

Gimli almost collapsed from laughter. The elf looked like a young Aragorn, except for the grey eyes.

He was old, though, Aragorn knew. If there's one constant among Elves of all kinds, it's their immortality. More and more, Aragorn found himself trying to come up with the right word for the elf. A mirror? No, that wasn't it. He was in no way a reflection of Aragorn. Kindred? Yes, that was it. They were alike not only in looks but in spirit. Aragorn looked at Gimli, who nodded. "Yes, laddie, that's it," the look the Dwarf gave him was plain enough to say.

"Now what're we supposed to do?" Pippin asked. They were outside the tower, alone and confused.

"There's a forest to the north: that way," Frodo suggested, pointing away from the mountains and the tower. "Maybe someone lives there."

"Who's to say they're friendly?" Eomer asked.

"It's better than nothing."

"Actually, in this case, 'nothing' might be better," said a voice.

Pippin, Frodo, and Eomer turned around. Pippin drew his sword. "Who are you?" Eomer asked suspiciously.

"My name's Eric," the man said. "You can put that sword down . . . ."

"Pippin," the Hobbit finished. "This is my second cousin, Frodo, and our friend, Eomer." Pippin lowered his sword. "You're a little late. Your friends are already inside."

"I know," Eric said. "That was their choice, as it was Faramir's."

"What is this strange place?" Eomer asked.

"No time for questions. You were right about the forest, Frodo. People live there, and they're about to be attacked. Here. Elrond told me these are yours."

"My mithril coat! And Sting! Wait! Elrond is with you?"

"He's in the forest," Eric said. "Come with me. I'll explain what I can."

"I still don't feel right leaving Faramir to who-knows-what fate," Eowyn called after Gandalf.

"Eowyn, he wouldn't have put himself forward if he felt he couldn't handle it," Gandalf called back. "Now keep up."

"I know he can 'handle it,'" Eowyn admitted. "I just wish I was with him."

"We know how good a fighter you are, Eowyn," Elrond said, slowing down to match his pace with hers. "You're where you should be. He's where he should be."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Which way, Gandalf?" Bergil asked. The path had ended.

"Keep going straight," the Wizard answered, pulling his beard free from a branch.

"If you say so," Bergil replied.

"I don't remember the path stopping," Gandalf said to himself. "This will take us somewhere, but is it where we want to go?"

Muahahahahahahaha. And where will it lead them? Muahahahahahahahaha.