1Disclaimer: It is a new year, but I still own nothing except, hopefully the ability to make those who read this fic very happy, though you will probably want to strangle me at the end of this chapter. There is a monster at the end of it, just to warn you, so consider yourself warned.

In response to spiritstallionofthecimarro's review, Legolas is allergic to the smoke from that particular plant, but it's an Elven thing. Don't try looking it up in the book, I just kind of made it up. I figured the Elves had to have some weakness.

Chapter Twelve

Grave happenings

"Get up!" Aragorn yelled and yanked his friend to his feet. He realized what he had done, but was too angry to apologize. Legolas walked, trying not to let Aragorn hear the labor of his breath. "Weakling," he heard Aragorn say from behind him. The desire to throw himself into a fit of rage and fight his friend consumed the Elf as he had never felt it before, but anger blocked his breath and he knew it was a useless waste of his breath asking Aragorn to extinguish the pipe. Legolas held to the edge of the cliff and descended. His limbs were shaking and he was trying to keep his breath steady. He was to the cave and let go, but landed on the very edge, lost his footing (exceptionally rare in the Elven world). His hand caught onto a small branch, little more than a twig, but his grip was soon loosening and he could feel unconsciousness growing on him. Eomer firmly grasped his hand and helped him up into the cave.

"It's so cold," the half-conscious Elf groaned.

"Aragorn, get down here quickly," Eomer hollered, echoing through the cave. Legolas was about to protest, saying that Aragorn could take his precious time, but his throat felt too heavy. He was coughing hard.

"Swallow this. I found it while I was waiting." Aragorn commanded, lightly landing a few feet away from the Elf. Legolas obeyed, removing a bloodied hand from his mouth. "Don't speak," Aragorn instructed. He removed the Elf's shirt, knowing that, though it kept him warm, its heaviness would weigh down his lungs. He shivered from the sudden chill and the two men moved him closer to the warmth of the fire.

"Mithrandir, thach. Trin Moria, gurth." (Gandalf, no. Through Moria, death.) The Elf murmured while catching his breath. Aragorn reached for his pipe, hoping to keep the Elf awake.

"Wait! Sleep may be best for him. It may bring down his fever," Eomer suggested, humbly remembering that this man was far more experienced in these matters than he.

"Not enough, though. Do you know how serious this is? Feel his skin. It's a fire. He won't last must longer if it remains uncountered. If he falls asleep he cannot fight as well and it may take over."

"I won't let it," Legolas vowed, his voice stronger than it had been in hours. "I won't be mastered, awake or asleep. Go ahead and smoke, Aragorn." Legolas sat up and Aragorn saw for the first time how swollen the Elf's throat was. He softened from his bad mood.

"You realize I don't enjoy this at all, mellon nin."

"This just makes up for all the illnesses you got when you were a child just because you were human," Legolas whispered, almost laughing. "I'd take the bees over this anytime." Aragorn smiled at the memory. When they were both much younger, they had brought a supposedly abandoned bee's nest from Mirkwood to frighten Erestor, but Legolas had discovered that Estel had a strange definition of abandoned. The bees had been in hibernation for the winter and had begun to wake up as they entered the warmer climate of Imladris. They weren't exactly pleased with their captors, to say the least. Both the Elf and the human had been in considerable pain for quite a while afterwards. The prank had worked, though, for old Erestor had been scared beyond compare. Save perhaps the fear of Frodo at the sight of a Nazgul, Aragorn thought. Oh, Frodo! Would he ever see him again? Would the quest be completed or would Middle Earth fall into darkness? Whatever the outcome, it had been thrust out of his hands.

"That smoke is getting awfully thick, Aragorn," Legolas interrupted the memory. The ranger had thought for an instant that the Elf's sneezing was just part of the memory. He had been so engrossed in his nostalgic thoughts that his puffing on the pipe had become quite vigorous, as had Legolas' reaction. His skin was burning, red, and irritated.

"Do you hear that?" the Elf asked.

"You are hallucinating, my friend. There is nothing to hear besides the wind," Eomer replied. Legolas stood, shakily, and, much to the dismay of his friends, started down the rest of the cliff toward what he heard.

"We should follow him." Eomer said. "He will be needing the pipe if he overdoes it. Where is he going?" he asked as he followed the Elf, who had already disappeared into the night.

"I don't know," answered his colleague. They reached the ground and Aragorn led in the direction he supposed Legolas had gone. They found the Elf sitting beside a young girl of about five years. As soon as the scent of the medical smoke reached him, he keeled over, gasping for breath. The girl, supposing they were there to harm her newfound friend, took action immediately.

"Get away from him!" she cried, thrusting a large branch at them.

"These are my friends," Legolas yelled over the girl's screams. He rushed over to remove the fiend from Aragorn, but the smoke was too much and he collapsed to the ground.

"Let's get him to the village," Eomer suggested, gesturing toward yonder lights.

"No, bad men in the village," the girl protested. Eomer understood immediately. The men of Dunland had overtaken it. Silently cursing them, he lifted Legolas into his arms, surprised at how light the Elf was.

"I can get horses," the girl volunteered. Aragorn nodded and she was off.

"Legolas, hear me. You must stay conscious," Aragorn called. "Do you remember the winter that blizzard came to Mirkwood? Your father was furious when I came visiting and we got lost in the middle of it. That night was so cold. You got the lecture, but I got sick." The Elf didn't seem to hear him. "I'll smoke as hard as I have to, but you are not going to go unconscious."

"He needs rest, Aragorn. His reaction is too strong; He is barely breathing. Let him sleep." Eomer argued. Aragorn stormed off behind a tree. He couldn't let Eomer see how truly afraid he was to lose his best friend, so he disguised his fear in anger. When Legolas was unconscious, the Ranger felt so useless, for there was nothing he could do to aid him. Aragorn returned to his friends' side just as the girl returned with three horses. Eomer helped Legolas up and mounted behind him. Aragorn lifted the child onto her own steed.

"Will I ride alone?" she asked worriedly.

"We are right beside you," Aragorn replied. They set off to return to the camp. When the reached the rock face, Aragorn carried Legolas, for he was accustomed to this sort of terrain. They entered the camp, the fire still burning and the girl looked around in awe.

"Do you live here?" she asked in wonder.

"No, we're just stopping here on our way to Edoras," Eomer told her.

Aragorn busied himself mixing some herbs with athelas and a few apples he had remaining in his pack. Legolas flinched when Aragorn applied it to his irritated skin, though he remained unconscious.

"It's so cold. The snow . . . covering," he muttered.

"I wish I had something dry to cover you with. You would be warmer," the Ranger said, more to himself than the Elf. The girl had fallen asleep and Eomer came and sat beside Aragorn.

"What news?" Faramir asked a scout who had just returned from duty.

"Orcs have camped across the River, Captain Faramir. They should not be able to cross in this darkness." Faramir prevented himself from rolling his eyes at the final statement, for Orcs were perfectly at home in the darkness.

"If our luck holds to its course, the night will soon be over," Boromir said from behind his brother.

"Are the . . . ?" Faramir broke off, unsure what to call the rest of the company when others were present.

"They are asleep in the best beds they have had since we left Lothlorien."

"You entered the Golden Realm!" Faramir whispered in awe. The soldiers about them left for other duties, leaving the brothers alone. "Tell me of it."

"You know I am not a poet, little brother, but it was a beautiful place, though at first I liked it not. It is one of the few realms in this world that still has peace." Just as Boromir said this, a loud shriek pierced the clouds and fell upon Osgiliath like a hurricane. Frodo woke with a start, clutching his shoulder. Sam was fast asleep a few rooms away and the others were sleeping elsewhere. The Ringbearer was all alone, alone with his thoughts. He knew what the Nazgul wanted, what he had and couldn't give them, and what they were willing to do to possess it. Unconsciously, Frodo secured his hand around the ring and went to the window. He stared into the sleek blackness, but try as he might, saw nothing. He heard only the sounds of the Gondorians preparing tor Sauron's servants. Frodo started. A slight sound behind him had reached his ears. Then he felt something upon his shoulder. He turned around in horror to face . . . (A/N This was where I was originally going to end the chapter. Aren't you glad I'm not?)

"Boromir!"Frodo cried out in surprise and relief. He hadn't realized how terrified he really had been. If he hadn't known better, he would have embraced the human in a traditional Hobbit gesture of welcome, but this would not have been appreciated by the Gondorian. Boromir gazed out at the city, his sword drawn, his shield prepared, ready for whatever came. Just as he turned from the window, loud footsteps were heard approaching them down the corridor. The human shoved Frodo behind the bed and positioned himself just in front of the door. A half asleep Hobbit commonly known as Sam Gamgee sprang through the door, his sword held threateningly.

"Where's Mr. Frodo?" he demanded, angrily.

"I'm here, Sam," Frodo revealed himself.

"Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Boromir, but I heard something that sounded like a black rider and I came to make sure Mr. Frodo was okay." Boromir smiled.

"What would I do without you, Sam?" Frodo wondered aloud.

"Well, for one thing, you'd be less one cook," Sam commented.

"You have a good heart and a hand for food," Boromir added. "That's not common around Orcs." Then, recalling the situation, he silenced them. Faramir silently entered the room, terrifying the Ringbearer when he spoke, for he had not seen him.

"The city is well secured, so I came here. I have a few questions concerning your quest. I think I should have a few answers."

"We cannot speak of its entirety now. The enemy will hear our words and know what is planned for it," Boromir whispered, his tone betraying the secret to his brother's well trained ears.

"The one ring?" Faramir asked in a hushed tone. Boromir nodded once. "So this is the answer to the riddles." He looked inquisitively at his brother. Sam moved his hand to the hilt of his sword, which he had replaced in its sheath, in case either man made a move to seize the ring. Faramir backed a few paces away from Frodo, looking at the Hobbit in awe. "The Halfling! It has come to Gondor." He backed away even further, a frightened look upon his young features.

"Isildur's Bane," Boromir whispered. At that instant they heard the distant shriek of a Nazgul. Frodo shuddered and hoped the monster would get no closer. He had a sudden desire to put the ring on and disappear from the gaze of every eye. Then an arrow came flying through the window past Frodo's head. He felt something around his finger and, horrified, realized it was the ring.

"Mister Frodo!" Sam yelled. Boromir frantically tried to shush him while telling Frodo to take off the ring. Faramir just tried to blend into the wall, not wanting to be seen himself. It was not for cowardice that he did this, but for fear of the ring itself and the power it had over men. The invisible Hobbit himself curled up in a corner, hoping the Nazgul would not see him. His eyes were terrified and his shoulder screamed from the wound of the Lord of the Nazgul. He felt extreme pain rush through him as the wall of the building crashed in about him, and Sauron's deadliest servant entered. A hush filled the room.

"Oh, help us," Sam whispered. Faramir drew his bow from the folds of his cape and set an arrow to the string. Though the shot should have been deadly, the ringwraith continued on its course as if nothing had happened. The wraith dismounted the back of its fell beast and headed straight toward Frodo. This time, though, it would not simply wound the Ringbearer; The Lord of the Nazgul would kill the bearer of the one ring and claim his prize, thus dooming all of Ennorath.

(A/N This is the real end of the chapter. Don't worry, I promise Frodo will not die yet, or, if he does, the story will not be finished. Please read and review and I will update soon.

MornieGalad