Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. I am not JRR Tolkien. Too bad.

"A determined soul will do more with a rusty monkey wrench than a loafer will do with all the tools in a machine shop."
–Robert Hughes

Chapter Thirteen
Courage Lives, and so does Hope

"Friends of the Woodland Wanderers," Tova whispered high in the trees.

"How can you tell?" asked Nora, a fellow nurse and scout for the elves.

"You, of all people, should know. Your brother's one of them!"

"Don't remind me."

"The tall one, at least, isn't from around here. She looks like Angelica."

"She's not. I can hear her voice. Strange accent, though. I'll go see what they're doing here." Before Tova could stop her, Nora dropped to the ground in front of Eowyn and Bergil.

The two humans were shocked, to say the least, but Bergil managed a "Who are you?"

"My name's Nora," the elf replied. "Who are you?"

"Bergil and Eowyn," the boy said. "Are you an elf?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Nora replied. "Can I assume that means you have a message, perhaps from my brother and a few friends of his, or did you get here on your own?"

"We were not alone," Eowyn admitted.

"That means you split up?"

"Yes," Eowyn said, "and we do have a message. The gleems, whatever they are, are going to attack."

"I was afraid of that," Tova called from the trees. Come on. We'll take you to the village."

Meanwhile, at the other village, Aragorn was little more impressed with the elves that Legolas had been with the dwarves. They had only short bows, a foot tall at most, and, though their aim was good, the arrows didn't get much momentum from so short a bow. They were clearly designed for close-range shooting.

Also, their numbers were few: two dozen at the most, including Latano, Aragorn, and Gimli. Latano explained that most of the elves lived in the other village, and that there was absolutely no time for help to come. Aragorn had been about to argue when Latano said that, at most, they had five minutes before the gleems attacked.

Aragorn was devastated. Five minutes?!? How could they get everything ready in five minutes?!? It was impossible! Wasn't it?

But then his own words came to his ears. "There is always hope." They'd survived at Helm's Deep and at the Pelennor fields. They'd survived the War of the Ring. They could survive this.

"Do you elves have a leader?" the ranger asked Latano.

"Not exactly," the elf explained. "Mostly all the leader does is do whatever elven law tells him to do. Also, we have a different leader every two weeks or so. So, no, not really."

"Wonderful."

"Well, you're the kind here," Gimli reminded him.

"Oh, no. I'm the King of Gondor. I know next to nothing about this place, and nothing about gleems. If I took charge now, we'd all be in trouble."

"Can't get much worse," Latano pointed out.

Aragorn paused a minute. The elf was right. In fact, it couldn't get any worse. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "Warriors!" he called to the elves, with a forcefulness and dignity in his voice that made them all turn. "Get in pairs. We're easy targets separately. Guard each others' backs and work together! Don't split up!"

Latano grinned as he joined a young elf and carefully showed him a better way to hold his bow. No one objected to a word Aragorn had said, the plan was so simple. The ranger drew Anduril. Gimli handled his axe impatiently. The two exchanged a knowing glance. Sometimes waiting was the worst part of the battle.

"Ready?" Tandro asked.

"Ready," Ronosa confirmed. The army of kytes stood ready outside the caves.

"I hope the others are okay," Balo said, but she sounded worried, not hopeful.

"That's a lot of people," Noka smiled. "Better pick one or two people to hope are okay."

"Funny, Noka, you're real funny," Rona groaned.

"Thank you," the elven comedian laughed.

Balo smiled. She especially hoped her uncle was okay. He was the only real family she had left. Also, she'd managed to forge a bond of sorts with Morgan, maybe because of their age, maybe because they both thought of the Woodland Wanderers as a second family now, a family that actually understood them, backed them up, and made them really feel at home.

"What Elf used to live here?" Elrond asked in amazement. The cabin certainly looked Elvish. It had an open window, an open door, and a roof that could open. It was made completely out of wood.

"From what I've heard," Gandalf said, "his name was Aramis, and he was no Elf. He was Athos' brother."

"Was?"

"He's dead."

"Who lives here now?"

"Besides his ghost?" Gandalf laughed. "No one."

"Funny, Mithrandir."

Elf and Wizard cautiously entered the cabin. There was nothing unusual. A large box was in one corner, a pile of books in another. "In there," Gandalf said, motioning to the box.

Elrond opened it. Another book was on top, titled The Bible. Gandalf looked at it curiously and then set it down gently on the wooden floor. Underneath a Crucifix, a Rosary, and a toothbrush was a small picture in a hand-carved wooden frame.

It was a hand-drawn portrait of two young boys. The one on the left had the most piercing light brown eyes Elrond had ever seen. Though they belonged to a child, wisdom as in them, and sadness, and sight that could see beyond what the eye could perceive. Brown and black hair rain past the boy's shoulders. The other, most likely his brother, had long hair of every color ever seen. His eyes were a strange mixture of green, brown, blue, and grey. His skin, too, was all different colors, unlike his brother's, which was light.

Gandalf turned the picture over. On the back was written,

"Courage lives, and so does hope,
On the Sea in our small boat.

We know the joy, we know the pain,
We know the sun, the wind, the rain.

The stars a path will brightly show,
As thru' the wind and waves we go.

Courage lives, and so does hope,
On the Sea in our small boat."

Underneath the poem was a picture of a small sailboat about to be engulfed by a huge wave. The Big Dipper shone overhead, the North star the only guide the ship had. Underneath this, in smaller letters, was written, "In memory of what might have been and hopes of what yet may be. –Father Aramis Oak Brown."

"Amazing," Gandalf commented, then gently laid the picture with the other items. Underneath this was a book called The Three Musketeers, a model ship, a sword, a pair of sunglasses, a strange-looking candle, a box of matches, and a blanket.

Gandalf nodded to Elrond, and the Elf lifted the blanket.

"Avanwë?"

"Yeah, Legolas?"

"Total honesty, please. Is it even possible for us to win this?"

"Total honesty? We've never won, but neither have they. They've withdrawn, but only because they want us alive."

"Then . . . why do you keep fighting?"

"In the hope that someday we will win, maybe. Possibly to show that we haven't given up yet, and that we won't. We might be defeated some day, but we won't surrender."

"I hate to break up the party, you two," Radagast interrupted, "but . . . the gleems are here! Overhead!"

"You'll have to really watch your back this time, Balo," Noka warned.

"I've fought gleems before."

"Not in open territory. There's almost no cover here, no trees we can use as shields. If push comes to shove, we can use the caves for safety. The kytes have tunnels there the gleems know nothing of. It's dark, but it's safe."

"You know I hate the dark."

Noka nodded. "So did I. Latano'll tell you I couldn't stand it. Wouldn't listen to anyone with words of encouragement, even him."

"You tell her," Rona said.

"It took Peter's example to show me I could get along fine without my sight. I was amazed at how easy he made it seem, and how easy it was when I tried."

"Hold it . . . Peter's not blind," Balo said.

"He was at the time. Balo, look. I know you don't particularly care for Peter. I know you blame him for our getting thrown out of the village, but it's the choice we all made." Then, he heard a soft voice in his head and nodded, adding, "It is the risk we all took."

"Yeah, well, here comes another risk to take," Tandro said, pointing at the sky. Noka didn't need anyone to tell him. A sharp pain at the back of his head and the beating of wings told him plenty. The gleems had arrived.

"Small army," Eowyn commented.

"Well, what'd you expect?" Nora demanded.

"A big one," Bergil said matter-of-factly.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you."

"Quite all right," Eowyn said. "The number doesn't matter as long as they're good."

"They are," Nora said, "and here's their chance to prove it! Here come the gleems!"

"Pacing, mellon nin, will not get the gleems here faster."

"You catch onto languages fast, Latano," Aragorn commented.

"I try."

"Well, try this one, then," Gimli suggested, pointing his axe at the creatures appearing in the sky. "Baruk khazad! Khazad ai-menu!"

"Where now, Eric?" the youngest Hobbit asked.

"Wherever we can get to," their guide answered.

"That seems a little vague," Eomer called from the back.

"Very observant," Eric noted. "I know, my friends, it is a little vague, but it has to be. We really have nowhere to go."

"I thought you said there were Elves here," Frodo said. "That should be safe."

"You're right, it should be, but it's not. They're not the elves you're familiar with, Frodo. They're less friendly to . . . people like me."

"Oh, great," Eomer commented.

"Well, would you three rather go on alone?"

"No, but I would like some explanation as to why they don't like you."

"Story for another time."

No sooner had he finished saying that, however, than there was a shriek overhead. "Drop!" Eric called to the two in back as he pulled Pippin to the ground.

"Where were they goin'?" Pippin asked once they'd all passed.

"I don't think you want the answer to that."

"We can't just stay here and do nothing," Eomer insisted.

Eric nodded. "You're right. We'll head for the closest elf-village, but don't expect a warm welcome."

The words were flowing. The voice was gentle, singing softly in a language Morgan could scarcely understand. In fact, the little she could make out above the pounding in her own head didn't make much sense at all. She caught something about stars and something about birds, but that was it. She didn't care. The tune was soft and low, and little sad, just the way she liked it.

Opening her eyes, the teenager was surprised. The song hadn't been a part of her dream, like she'd thought. It was Faramir, trying in his own way to wake her up. She nodded. Faramir finished the chorus and then stopped. "Are you okay?" the steward asked.

"More or less. You guys?"

"Good enough. Still haven't found a way out."

Morgan smiled. "I think I may have one."

Hmmm . . . a plan. Muahahahahaha.

Cry Baby – huh?