A/N: Hey everyone! How are you all doing? It's my birthday this Thursday! And I want gifts! It doesn't have to be big or expensive—I just want reviews, especially from those of you who don't normally review. That'd be really nice, and it would put an awfully big smile on my face. Also, my spring break is starting, so I'm thinking of typing up a few chapters during my holiday and maybe updating more. I know I've said that before, but I'm actually going to try this time. No, really. I am. I'd also like to welcome a new Al fan, "Prophet-Song", who made it through all of Part I and the eleven chapters of Part II. And to answer your question about Al's final fate...well, I can't give anything away, but trust me on this: you'll like it.

Disclaimers: I don't own "Lord of the Rings". Obviously. (Please, please, PLEASE tell me that not one of you is surprised. Please. I have to believe that mankind still possesses some facet of mental ability, however small.)

Chapter 12: Wargs and Faramir . . .

No, honestly, you have to let us go! This is a matter of national security! People are going to be literally eaten! Is that what you want? To have people EATEN?

The one who seemed to be the leader of the group turned around and narrowed his eyes. "Be quiet," he ordered. And then he told one of the men to gag Frodo and Sam.

Frodo muttered dark death threats, all directed towards me, but they were too muffled to be understood. We were heaved onto the shoulders of some of the Merry Men, and they trudged along. After a while, I decided that I didn't really need to be there. It didn't seem to be too huge of an emergency. I mean, until they decided to kill us. But until then, I could easily concentrate a large part of my intelligence on something else.

I quickly found the posse of peasants led by our heroes.

Hey, Aragorn! I've got some really, really important news. You guys better head for the nearest cover, and get ready to fight, because Saruman is sending some serious firepower your way.

"Such as?" Aragorn asked, already salivating at the thought of a good fight.

Have you heard of Wargs? They're like hyenas, only they're bigger and more demented and they have armed Orcs on their backs. And they're coming for you. Like, right now.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli exchanged a few looks, but before anything could be done, King Theoden interrupted.

"How do we know we can trust the word of this Ring? How do we know it is not simply giving a false report, in order to slow us down? Perhaps our attackers are behind us, and are having trouble catching up, so the Ring is attempting to delay us in order to give them time to reach us."

Um, yeah. Okay. You go ahead and think that, your Majesty. Legolas? You totally need to go check it out.

Legolas agreed, and rode ahead in a flurry of billowing blonde locks.

"I do not see any—" he paused and frowned. He bit his soft pink lip with his perfectly white teeth. He squinted. "There seems to be something coming at us from across the plains. I cannot quite make out what—" he paused again. "The Ring is right!" he gasped.

Ha! I told you!

He quickly rode back to the others. "The Warg-riders are coming. We must prepare ourselves!"

Theoden got in one look of incredulity before he was swept up in the tide of armed guards rushing forward. Just in time, too. The Wargs got there just as everyone got their swords out of their scabbards. Here we go.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were in the thick of it in no time. There was a lot of hacking, stabbing, and manly grunting. A lot of Orcs went down, but the Wargs were a bit trickier.

Say, there's an idea—horses with teeth and rabies. That way, they can keep fighting even without a rider. Wow, and they're good at fighting, too! That vicious bugger just completely totalled that guy!

"Whose side are you on?" Gimli snarled while swinging his axe.

Yours, most unfortunately.

"Then why don't ya keep yer mouth shut and stop admiring the enemy's steeds?"

Hey, just 'cause they're on the other side doesn't mean I can't like their Wargs. I mean, your horses are all magnificent and whatnot, but they're kinda boring, don't you think? They pretty much just all stand around with the same placid, "look at me I'm so pretty" look that Legolas always has. They need some fangs and claws. We should teach them how to roar, at least.

Gimli tried to glare at me, but I wasn't actually there, so he just ended up getting really distracted, and one of the Wargs that I was admiring snuck up on him. Legolas helped him out with it, and I zoomed out to survey the rest of the fight.

The men seemed to be winning, with no small thanks to my early warning. The fight seemed to be drawing to a close, with the majority of the Orcs either retreating or dying. I looked around for Aragorn. I couldn't find him.

I looked some more. Still no Aragorn.

I looked around for Legolas and Gimli.

Uh, guys? Dude, where are you?

I found Legolas, Gimli, and King Theoden, standing at the edge of a cliff, looking grim.

Guys? There's a small problem. Aragorn's missing.

"We know," Legolas said. He looked like he was about to burst into tears. "Some motherfucking Warg dragged him off this stupid fucking cliff, and now he's gone!"

Hey, I completely forgot that Legolas has quite the potty mouth when he's feeling emotionally unstable.

"No fucking shit!" With that, he actually did burst into tears. He sobbed a string of obscenities all directed to Orcs and their mothers.

Theoden stood there awkwardly. His men were all starting to pack up, so he clasped Legolas's shoulder and said, "Leave the dead," before walking away.

Legolas started crying anew, and looked like he was contemplating flinging himself off the cliff. And you thought I was insensitive? What the hell was that! Come on, Legolas, don't cry. I'm pretty sure he's alive. If he had died, I would've felt him blinking out.

Legolas produced a perfumed lace handkerchief from thin air, shook it out, and delicately blew his nose. "Still alive? You mean he could be lying somewhere out there, injured and in pain? We must look for him! Ring, you must help me find him!"

At that exact moment, the Merry Men halted and dumped us onto the floor of a cave.

Sorry, stud-muffin, but I can't. I've got problems of my own right now. But I promise, he's definitely not dead. Don't worry about it, okay? He can take care of himself.

With that, I had to leave the scene of carnage and return to my current situation.

"Who are you?" a tall man, the leader, questioned.

"My name is Frodo Baggins, and I am a hobbit of the Shire," Frodo replied.

The man, who apparently didn't know what real bodyguards were supposed to look like, gestured at Sam and asked, "And he is your bodyguard?"

His stalker, I told him, an instant before Sam said "His gardener."

There was a pause. "I am Samwise Gamgee, his gardener," Sam reiterated.

Oh, is that what they're calling them now, I muttered.

The man frowned and glared at us for a little while. Finally, he asked, "What is that third voice I hear?"

"Um, it's kind of a long story," Frodo said.

"I shall hear it."

Frodo sighed. "Alright. Well, it all started way back when Sauron first took over the world. He wore a Ring, so for years everybody assumed that all his power came from that Ring. As the legend goes, whoever gets the Ring gets infinite power, but will succumb to evil. So, a few months ago, Gandalf the wizard told me that Sauron was getting ready to take over the world again, and we had to destroy the Ring before he could get it back. A party of nine set out from Rivendell on a mission to destroy it, but along the way, we found out that the Ring is in actuality not evil—"

"Well, we don't know that. I still think it's evil," Sam interrupted.

"The Ring is in actuality not evil," Frodo, bless his little heart, said firmly, "which put us in an interesting position. Destroying the Ring will obviously not stop Sauron's power, because it doesn't come from the Ring in the first place. However, not destroying the Ring will have adverse effects on the peoples' morale, because everyone thinks it must be destroyed. That is why you found us on the way to Mount Doom. If we cannot think of a solution before we reach it, I am afraid that we shall have no choice but to destroy the Ring. And that third voice you keep hearing? That is the voice ot the Ring itself."

Hi. Call me Al.

The man looked horrified. "The Ring is a living being? And you plan to destroy it even though it is not evil?"

"Only it I can't think of a plan," Frodo said helpfully.

"But surely your morals cannot allow an innocent to die for something that is not his fault!"

FINALLY! Thank god, there is finally a voice of reason here, someone with a sense of justice, someone with a little logic! I love you, man! What's your name?

"I am Faramir of Gondor, son of the Steward of Gondor and brother of Boromir."

We all gave a little start at that, and Faramir homed in on it.

"You know Boromir? You are friends of his?" Faramir asked, his voice strangely intense.

Uh, noooooo—

"Yes," Frodo said quickly, eyeing the way Faramir was starting to pace around and play with his sword handle.

Faramir whirled around and fixed us with slightly wild eyes. "Good! Then perhaps you can tell me why my brother is DEAD!"

Yeah, I know, isn't it great? He was kinda annoying, and—shit. I mean…uh…I'm really sorry for your loss, Faramir, brother of Boromir. Boromir died defending our friends from Orcs. It was a valiant death. He was a true hero. Really.

Faramir nodded and began to leave the room. His eyes looked a little wet. "Go put them in some room or something. I whatever. I need to get some air," he said to the nearest Merry Man before hurrying out.

The Man nodded, and shoved us roughly into some other cavern. Frodo and Sam sat down, unsure what to do.

Hey, let me down, will you? I'm gonna go talk to Faramir; maybe we can come up with a plan.

"No way," Frodo said. "He is grieving for his brother right now. We must let him be."

"Yeah, and how do we know you won't run away?" Sam chimed in.

Yeah, we're in the middle of nowhere, in a cave full of armed burly men, and outside said cave are a gazillion more armed burly men. Even if I were stupid enough to run, I'm about the size of a large coin, and I'll undoubtedly be stepped on before I could get anywhere. Just let me down, okay? I'll keep Faramir company; I'll make sure he doesn't do anything drastic, like off himself or something. Ew, can you imagine killing yourself over Boromir?

"Ring!"

Sorry. I mean, I'll be way more respectful, and say nice things to comfort him and whatnot. Let me go, okay? Lemmegolemmegolemmegolemmegolemmegolemmegolemmegolemmego!

Frodo sighed and slipped me off of his chain. He set me on the ground and said, "I'm doing this against my better judgement, Ring. Do not make me regret it."

Bullshit. You're doing it because you feel guilty about what you said earlier, and you're hoping this will make up for it. It won't, of course, but feel free to keep trying.

And with that, I rolled off into the night, looking for Faramir.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .TBC