Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is not mine. Neither are the weird little quotes at the beginning of the chapters.

"Courage is fear that has said its prayers."

–Karl Barth

"I think a servant of the Enemy would look fairer and feel fouler."

–Frodo Baggins, The Fellowship of the Ring

Chapter Eleven

Fear That Has Said Its Prayers

"Roads go ever ever on

Over rock and under tree

By caves where never sun has shone,

By streams that never find the Sea . . ."

"The only person I know who would sing at a time like this," Elrond laughed.

"Yours truly," Gandalf said, bowing. "I don't think it's too much farther."

"I feel it, too, but some strange presence is between us and our goal."

"I guess that depends on what you mean by 'strange presence.' Certainly nothing found in Middle-Earth. Nothing you would be familiar with, my friend."

"Then what?"

"Something I've only been told of. Nightwatchers."

"Nightwatchers? What are they?"

"Daëlin wasn't really able to give me a good description, but they're nothing to be afraid of unless you mean harm to the forest."

"Are you sure? The name doesn't sound very . . . . welcoming."

"It's not supposed to. They're normally not very acceptive to strangers. Trouble is, we'll have to get past them."

"There's no way around?"

"No quick way, and I'm not sure there even is one. Come. It's no more dangerous than the Mines of Moria."

"Oh, yes. For a second I forgot your last-resort paths tend to have, shall we say, not-so-good results. Very well. You're the one who knows this place."

"Hardly. If you wanted a guide, you should've brought Aragorn."

"He's been here, too?"

"No, but it's his kind of place, his kind of unknown danger we're rushing into."

"Oh, great. That kind."

Gandalf laughed, and they started off towards the west side of the Unknown Forest.

"They sure get together quickly," Legolas noticed. In the barely two minutes since they had informed Novi and Naroma of the gleems' plans, the whole village had gathered, the warriors had been told of the situation, and the others dismissed. Despite Legolas' gift for languages, Avanwë had been forced to translate most of what they were saying.

"That they do," Radagast laughed. The entire army (actually not more than maybe twelve dozen) was ready.

To Legolas, however, they looked totally unprepared. Though they were armed with swords and, a few of them, bows, none of them wore any kind of armor or even carried a shield, Radagast, Legolas, and Avanwë included. Actually, of their group, only Gimli, Aragorn, Eowyn, Elrond, and Bergil had worn armor. Legolas and Avanwë were quick enough to be able to fight without any, and Gandalf needed none. Radagast, well, he'd sort of . . . forgotten . . . . on purpose. He hadn't ever seen any use for it, and had figured on being left with Peter somewhere in the forest. They hadn't planned on Athos accepting anything, though Radagast had known Peter would volunteer if he did.

"This is worse than at Helm's Deep," Legolas complained. "The only thing that makes it better is these people have experience. At least the Humans had sense enough to wear armor."

"You should talk," Radagast laughed.

"I'd wear some if they had any and I thought it would fit me and I thought it would be any good!" the Elf explained in a rather angry tone of voice.

"In any case, Legolas, you're right," Avanwë said. "At least, you would be, if gleems were Uruk-hai. They're not. Confusion, or Athos, or whatever, doesn't want us dead."

"Well, that's something of a relief. Wait. I know where this is going. We don't want them dead, either, do we?"

"That's right," Radagast nodded.

"I'm fine with that," Legolas agreed, "but I don't think Gimli will be."

Gimli, of course, hadn't yet found out. He was back in the forest with Aragorn and Latano.

"Lower your guard," Latano said. "It's them."

Gimli reluctantly did as the elf directed, and even Aragorn let his guard down.

"Se emav ravo otan Ranarulo Nesapo!" called a voice.

"Battle cry?" Gimli guessed.

"Sounded more like a greeting to me," Aragorn suggested.

"Mixture of the two," Latano laughed. "Depends on who you're talking to." Aragorn noticed that the elf had changed his accent a little, as well as the tone of his voice. It was to fool the elves, of course, and it worked. They took him to be a messenger from the other village, his companions strange but definitely friends.

As for the news that they didn't want to kill the gleems, Aragorn took it better than Gimli, but even Gimli took it better than Legolas had thought he would. Latano, of course, was used to it, but Gimli wondered whether that could be the reason the gleems kept attacking, why their numbers were so many, why the elves kept losing.

Faramir struggled to open his eyes. He couldn't move, and his head ached terribly, but he was alive.

They had fought hard, but defeat was inevitable, even for them. With one of them already wounded badly and another using a sword far too big for him, they hadn't had much of a chance.

'Boromir would've said there was a chance,' Faramir thought, trying to make sense of the dark shapes and the even darker background that were all he could see. It was as if some dark cloth had been draped between him and reality.

Then the young steward realized why. He was blindfolded. He had been trying to see through thick black cloth, and had all but succeeded. 'You see. Victory is always possible, brother,' said the voice in his mind. He'd grown used to hearing it faintly, but this time, it was loud and clear, and he could almost see his brother's face. For all the effort it took him to smile, it was worth it.

However, it also tipped off Angelica, who was sitting nearby, that he had at last regained consciousness.

"It's about time," Faramir heard a voice say. He let out his breath slowly, trying to keep his control. It was no wonder his brother's voice had been so clear. Angelica sounded like she was shouting ten times louder than even a normal shouting voice.

He had no time to recover. Almost instantly, he felt a sharp pain in his left let, right below the knee and a little to the right. He tensed his leg, but that only made it worse, so he tried his best to relax it again.

"You catch on fast," Angelica observed. "Gleems, he's all yours. You know Confusion's orders." There were times, though, when Angelica despised those orders,–to keep the prisoners alive–though she knew why they were given. She left, making sure to close the door behind her.

The pain only got worse, and spread until Faramir wasn't even sure where it was coming from anymore. He shut his eyes, and saw what he had hoped to see. It was his dream from the night before: the light with the small island. He focused on the small patch of darkness, concentrated on making it bigger in his mind. It grew and grew, enveloping the steward in cool shadow. The pain was still there, but not the blind confusion. This was bearable, endurable, not because it had to be, but because it could be.

"Ronosa!" Tandro called into the cave. "Ronosa, are you there?"

"Yeah, be there in a moment," the kyte called back. Presently, a bear-like creature appeared at eh entrance to the cave. He was short, as are all kytes, not more than two feet tall. Nonetheless, one of the constant realities of the Undiscovered Island is that you can't judge anyone by their height. Kytes are warriors when they have to be, and Tandro knew this, traveler that he was.

"What is it, my friends?" Ronosa asked. "Where are the others–Latano, Eric, Peter, and Morgan?"

"That's why we're here," Noka said. He then proceeded to explain everything the best he could in the shortest amount of time, which basically meant saying, "We split up. The gleems are going to attack, and we need your help."

"Morgan, I don't want to have to do this."

"I know you don't, Athos," the teenager answered as calmly as she could. Like her companion from Gondor, she had awoken blindfolded and tied to a chair. Unlike Faramir, however, she had been expecting just that.

"You're not making this easy," the gleems' leader sighed.

"What would make it easy?" Morgan asked, trying to move her arms a little. The ropes tying her wrists to the chair's armrests were a little too tight. The gleems had made sure of that.

"Why won't you listen to reason?"

"Maybe because your idea of 'reason' is far too nutty."

"Are you calling me insane?"

"No. I'm only saying you're confused. I believe there is always a way, other than violence, to accomplish your goals, to achieve your dreams."

"You're starting to sound like Xavier."

"And you sound like Magneto. What's your point?"

Athos' only reply was a pair of rolled eyes, which he'd conveniently forgotten Morgan couldn't see. There was no point, of course. Morgan had been trying to sound like Xavier, so she could say he sounded like Magneto. Taking advantage of the silence her question provided, she asked another question. "What have you done with the others–Merry, Sam, Faramir, and Peter."

"So concerned for others, are we?"

"I learned it from Peter. Well, where are they?"

"I left your Hobbit friends from Weirdoland in the dungeon. Peter and Faramir are close by."

Morgan fought hard to control her temper. She'd been right, unfortunately. The gleems wouldn't go easy on Peter. She was just glad he'd decided to leave the Hobbits alone, though only Athos would call the Shire 'Weirdo land.' Then again, if there was ever someone Athos had been able to have a relaxed, almost normal conversation with, it was Morgan. She relaxed a little. This would be easier knowing Merry and Sam were, at least for the moment, relatively safe.

At that moment, however, Merry and Sam would've said they were anything but safe. Still searching for a way out of the dungeon, they had still found nothing.

"Want an apple, Merry?" Sam offered, trying to cheer his friend up.

"No, thanks."

"It's not like you to pass up a meal."

"I'm worried about the others."

"The 'others' being Frodo, Pippin, and Eomer, or the 'others' being our 'guests,' Faramir, Peter, and Morgan?"

"Both, I guess. What's goin' on, anyway. Why did they leave us here and take the others? Why not all of us?"

"I don't know, Merry, but starving yourself won't help anything."

"Fine. Throw me an apple. I'm going to try the door again."

"How can we trust this man?" Eomer asked Frodo in a whisper.

Frodo sighed. The last time he'd heard that, it had ben Sam complaining about Aragorn. Eric was different, though. He didn't have the ranger's wild appearance, but seemed colder in a different way. Could this be what he'd meant by 'seem fairer and feel fouler? Frodo wasn't sure they could trust him, but what other choice did they have?

"He could be working for Confusion," Eomer continued. "He could be leading us into a trap."

"What do you suggest?"

"Ask him to explain more. He said he'd explain what he could, but all he's said is that those monsters are trying to take over the world and that we're trying to stop them."

A few paces in front of them, Eric sighed. There wasn't much more he could've said. Anything else would've meant getting bombarded with questions, and he wasn't in the mood for answering what he knew they would be. He turned, motioned to the others to hurry, and continued on into the forest, picking up his pace a little to get further ahead.

"Eric?" Pippin asked. The youngest Hobbit had caught up.

"Yeah."

"I have a few questions."

"I probably don't have answers that make sense."

"Can I ask them anyway?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Did you used to work for Confusion?"

Eric stopped short. "How on Earth did you know that?" he demanded.

"Boromir. I can't explain it. I keep hearing his voice."

"Then yes, yes I did," Eric said, nodding and starting to walk again. "No one's ever guessed it that quickly before."

"Guessed what?" Eomer asked. Eric had been louder than he'd thought.

"Nothing," Eric said immediately.

Pippin looked up questioningly. "Why didn't you tell him?" the Hobbit asked.

"He already doesn't trust me. You think it'll help if I tell him I used to work with our enemies?"

"Well, no, I guess not."

"What were your other questions? You said you had a few."

"Oh, yes. Where're we going?"

Frodo had been listening well enough to hear that, and couldn't help smiling. When Pippin had last asked that, it had been back in Rivendell, and Elrond had been almost ready to kill him. Gandalf, though, had insisted that they wanted nine live members of the Fellowship.

"I'm not quite sure myself," Eric admitted.

"Confusion said there were elves here."

"Well, that's one thing he told you that's true. What else did he say?"

"That the elves were trying to take over the world."

"That's Athos, all right. Always reversing the roles."

"Athos?"

"It's his real name."

"Oh. Where, exactly, is this island?"

"You see, that, I'm not sure how to explain to you because I don't know exactly where Middle-Earth is."

"What do you mean?"

"Strange, I'm not quite sure what I mean. I like you, Pippin. You can sure give a guy amnesia. You ever heard of a place called the United States?" he asked before the Hobbit asked what amnesia was.

"No. You ever heard of the Shire?"

"Not until today."

"That's more than I can say about the . . . 'United States,' was it?"

"That's right. Well, when we get everything else figured out, I'll see if I can't so something about that, too."

"Great!"

"You may not think so once you see the place, my peace-loving companion," Eric laughed. "Boy, if you think this island is a mess . . . ."

"Glorfindel, what's wrong?" Erestor asked.

"Nothing, mellon nin. Just thinking."

"You wanted to go with them."

Glorfindel nodded. "Elrond and I couldn't both go, though, and he deserves it. It's been so long since he left Imladris, save for his recent trip to Gondor."

"Why couldn't you both go?"

"Someone had to stay here."

"What about me?" Erestor asked, pretending to be hurt.

"I didn't think of that. In any case, it's too late."

"Possibly not."

"What're you saying?"

"There might be a way to get you where you want to go."

"You can do that?"

"I? No, but there is someone who can, someone who is at this time very close to Rivendell."

"Who?"

"Tom Bombadil."

Muahahaha. Everyone's getting mixed up in this, aren't they. :)

See? Lack of reviews will not stop me from writing.