Bloodlines
Death Sentence – WARNING: This chapter contains a bit of a spoiler for Return of the King, assuming certain things were added to the story of the movies.

Through the mischief of two Hobbits Rick discovers his family line travels further back than he could have imagined.

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"At least we'll go out fighting the good fight."

Somehow when he said those words Rick had known there would be grief after, if any survived the fight. The great doors rocked and cracked with the blows of weapons handled by those bent on their death. The doors wouldn't hold forever, he knew, and yet he clung to some foolish hope inside that they would and that this terrible fate would not see him killed today, this way. Frodo's quest rang through him now, the importance of what might be brought to ruin with this skirmish. Rick turned his head and saw the three Hobbits standing together, little swords drawn and fearful, but ready expressions.

And suddenly his small, stupid hope was crushed with the breaking of the door. It started with a small hole being chiseled out quickly and grew into the most hideous beings imaginable sweeping through the threshold of the door. Rick forgot his fears and threw himself into combat mode. One Orc fell with the blast of his gun, aimed level with his chest, but the next beast took his bullet in the arm, rendering that a complete loss. The guns weren't going to kill all of them and he had precious little ammunition.

They soon drew too close for comfort and Rick threw his empty gun to the floor to draw the long dagger Elrond had given him. Gandalf already held a sword and Gimli was thirsty for vengeance on those who had obviously been the ones behind the death of his people here in this little grave of a city. An Orc stormed straight to Rick, offering no time before striking with a heavy mace that almost knocked him back with its weight. Guns, he realized, took a lot of the muscle work out of warfare.

Still, after killing his next Orc, Rick felt he was doing pretty well. The dagger slid from the beast's flesh quickly and he found he had to place it directly into another enemy right after. He could hear the sounds of his companions around the room, fighting, groaning and possibly dying. "Gandalf!" Frodo yelled into the fray and Rick fought the urge to turn around and look to the Hobbit's aide. As it was his momentary lapse cost him some blood as an Orc sliced into his arm, winning a cry of pain and anger from his human foe. Rick swore viciously and attacked with all the more fervor. They had needed Ardeth and Boromir sorely for this fight. But Rick wondered inside if it really would have made the difference that would save them.

The Orcs, as it turned out, were nothing. O'Connell managed a few more and even found himself able to check on his companions before a huge crash drew all attention from the brawl happening and to the now shattered doorway. "What the hell is that!?" he heard himself yell without even realizing the choice had been made within. It towered between 20 and 30 feet tall with arms as long as he was and a great big mace with which to bash, killing Orcs in its rage. This was just not normal or fair. He found himself wondering what kind of sick world this was.

The creature gave him so little time to think after his small musing that all thoughts ceased and instinct took over. Rick suddenly felt very naked with only his small dagger to fight with. Gimli dodged the great mace, drawing off the creature's attention and Rick shoved his dagger back into its sheath. Running faster than he had ever in his life, he got to the door and took up one of the fallen axes. He had never used one, but figured there had to be a first time for everything.

Gandalf was already fighting the massive beast and running when O'Connell turned back to the fight. He took a step forward, but was stopped quick by an unsavory hiss and a kick to his hip. As Rick tumbled to the wall he watched the large creature begin to give chase to another being as Gandalf was also stopped by an Orc. Frodo was in grave danger now. But the sword coming down on him prevented any hope that Rick could run and save him from certain death.

The Orc howled in rage when Rick thrust his weapon aside and kicked him in return. "What can I say?" he drawled, lifting the axe and moving to chop the Orc in two. "Life's a…" A foot to the gut stopped him short. Below the Orc laughed a raspy sound and drew his sword up again.

"Gandalf!" he heard Frodo yell and his efforts grew that much more urgent. There wasn't time for this play.

Rick grunted back his pain and kicked the Orc back down, then threw his strength into getting that axe into his enemy. As it was, he managed only to crack the stone floor as the Orc rolled away. "Hold still when I'm trying to kill you!" he groused at the thing, who raced to its feet with snarling lips and evil eyes. Precious minutes passed and he listened intently behind him to the sound of the old wizard groaning as he hit either the wall or the floor, probably both. With a curse Rick kicked at the Orc again and muttered, "Ah, screw you." Then he turned away.

When he whipped back he saw just what he had chanced seeing. A surprised look upon a now immobile Orc. He took that opportunity to try the axe again and this time hit home. But it was too late. He knew it, felt a chill run through him when Frodo's shout trailed off painfully. Rick turned away for good this time and saw the little Hobbit laying on the floor with that hulking monster standing over him. For a moment all time seemed to stop as the realization dawned in each of them. The quest had failed. He didn't know what that meant fully, but even he felt the loss. Pippin screamed his anger and headed dangerously straight for the beast as Sam bolted towards his fallen friend only to be stopped by an Orc. Gandalf gazed a moment longer at the fallen Hobbit, then wheeled on an approaching foe. Gimli joined Pippin in the fight on the creature and Rick, he watched this all happen with a sudden urgency to understand what it was that would see them through this.

He did what he thought would be best when Pippin fell of the creature's back. He took his place. O'Connell pulled himself out of his wonderment and climbed onto the tomb of Balin, then launched himself onto the beast as it struggled against a blow from Gandalf. Instantly it screamed and thrashed to get its unwanted rider off, but Rick held on for dear life. It wasn't easy, he could say that much. Twice he almost fell and both times had been a good deal of trouble trying to maintain his flimsy hold on the creature's necklace. He wondered idly what in the world would possess such a being as this to even wear a band around its neck.

Then he praised the thing mentally for doing so, for it gave Rick an idea. The creature bent down to grab Gimli within a great fist and the ex-Legionnaire dropped his axe to once again pull out the Elvish dagger. Stabbing into the creature's hide to gain a grip as he climbed up to its left shoulder caused it to scream and move, but with Pippin, Sam, Gandalf and Gimli it couldn't reach for the human on its shoulder. Ripping the dagger free Rick shoved himself forward and made a blind slash toward its throat, then promptly fell off. He looked up and saw the creature teetering now, as if it couldn't stay up and it occurred to him that perhaps laying quite so near it wasn't the wisest place he could be. Rick scrambled away just in time as the beast fell forward with a loud thud, then closed his eyes and fell back as relief and disbelief rushed through him.

"Frodo!" Sam yelled, bringing everyone back into the here and now. Rest would have to wait. O'Connell sat up as the others rushed to the side of the Ringbearer.

Gandalf knelt beside the Hobbit and looked up gravely as he drew him from stomach to back. He wasn't quite sure why, but it effected him when the little guy took a gasping breath and opened his eyes. Rick grinned and stood up, dusting his hands off on his pants and saying, "I knew it."

The wizard gave him a highly dubious look and he spread his arms innocently. "Okay, I didn't. What can explain this?"

"Mister Frodo!" Sam was saying, taking his friend by the hand and shaking his head. "You're going to have to stop scaring us like this!"

The Ringbearer smiled and took help offered to stand. "I'm all right. Is everyone else?" Sam nodded. Gimli fixed the Hobbit with a wondrous look.

Gandalf cocked his head. His expression sought for the answer to this miracle. "I think there is more to this Hobbit than meets the eye." Frodo gave him a confirming glance and opened his shirt to reveal the purest chain mail shirt Rick could have imagined up. It glittered like the mithril.

"I don't suppose there's more of those laying around here?" Rick asked, scratching his chin. The wizard only smiled.

But the moment was ruined by war cries sounding within the main hall. Every eye hit the door in wait until Gandalf shouted, "To the bridge of Khazad-Dûm! Run!"

What happened after that Rick had no care to relive within his minds. He shook himself from his thoughts and gazed through tired eyes to the fire between himself, three sleeping Hobbits and a Dwarf that did as he did. There was uneasiness between them now, not because either bore feelings of dislike for the other, but because both had a natural drive to take the lead. They had even argued before nightfall about what would happen to the smaller party because Gandalf was gone, having faced a demon and lost. The Dwarf would have nothing of Lothlorien and had pointed Rick in the general direction. O'Connell had argued back that he hardly thought this trip was meant for four and that perhaps this Lorien place could offer them reinforcements. It was Frodo who stopped their little spat with his choice. He would follow Gimli's lead to Lothlorien and nowhere else.

Still, Rick wasn't boastful of his victory. Nothing felt good right now. He was lost in a world that was ultimately not his own, with little hope of getting back home and danger around every single corner. This place was like a twisted nightmare, gorgeous to a fault and just as deadly. He thought back on pretty Arwen and wondered if somewhere down the line she would turn into some vicious beast ready to devour him or any other man. He got the feeling if he had followed his instincts and hit on her a little that Elrond might have, at any rate. Those quiet, repressed types were the ones to watch for and this world was insane anyway.

He didn't even know why the old man's death bothered him so badly. Sure, he had liked the guy, but he didn't even know him. Yet he felt a great loss, as if something important had been ripped away from the world. He could still see that demon in his mind, too. That thing looked like Satan himself and was for all he knew. Gandalf had been so very brave to stand upon the bridge and face fear itself. So brave and so wrong.

When Gandalf remained on the bridge to fight the demon, Rick had assumed he'd gone crazy. When the demon struck with a mighty sword, he'd assumed Gandalf dead. And when the wizard stood whole after the demon's sword had struck, Rick had become very certain that Gandalf wasn't any ordinary old man, but a demi-god or an angel or something. But he wasn't. He was now dead because the creature had fallen and pulled him down into the depths of the Dwarven ruins by the crack of a red, fiery whip. A valiant end, but a grievous one as well.

Rick rubbed his face and yawned, wondering when the nightmare would end. When would he wake up back in Cairo? With an inhale he looked up at the Dwarf and saw he was being watched. "Plotting my death?" he joked, hoping to lighten the atmosphere a little.

Gimli shook his head sorrowfully and Rick kicked himself mentally. "We have seen too much of that these days passed. Perhaps when I'm of a fairer mood."

Rick smirked and grabbed a stick to poke at the fire. "Yeah. Better mood." He lifted the burning stick up and watched a pretty flame slowly travel down the length. "You know, I wasn't trying to be an ass back there. I know none of this is my business. But I don't want to see Frodo fail."

"Aye," Gimli breathed with a single nod. "Nor do I."

"You don't trust those Elves, do you?" the ex-Legionnaire asked with an interested expression. He saw discomfort surface in the other's face coupled with resent.

The Dwarf looked at him across the fire. "I don't."

Rick poked the fire again. "You trusted Elrond."

"Aye, but he's different. He's…at very least he's part human and reputed to be wise in the ways of those beyond Elven heritage. I trust not what I have heard told of Lorien. There they say is an Elf witch who can tame even the strongest of creatures with a single glance. Those that enter her realm seldom leave and now with Gandalf gone I fear we will be left to her whims." Gimli's face clouded over. "I care not for the whims of Elves. They imprisoned my kin and would have imprisoned Master Frodo's uncle too if not for that Ring. In that I am glad you are here, for you have replaced the son of he who acted so unkindly towards my father and his company. I am far better without companionship like his."

With a sigh, the ex-Legionnaire dropped his stick into the fire and leaned back on his hands. "Yeah, they do seem a little goody-two-shoes. But what else have we got? I'm not trying to offend you or them, but this job is hard enough having ah…bigger people fighting it."

The Dwarf glared a little at this. "I'll have you know my people are of a stout make and very skilled with their weapons, Master O'Connell. I'll not be insulted by a stranger to this world."

O'Connell shook his head. "I don't mean it that way. What I'm saying is you have the skill and the strength and that axe, but those Hobbits? They aren't trained. They did good holding their own, but how much of a chance do you really think the four of you have all by yourselves against things like what we just saw? Gandalf, he was the wisest of the six of us and look where he is." Gimli frowned, but it quickly turned into a sigh. "Let's just see what those stuffy Elves have to say about all this, huh? If we don't like what they have to say we could always moon 'em and run."

The little warrior narrowed his brow. "Moon them, you say?"

A smirk dawned upon Rick's lips. "Yeah. It's a thing me and my old Legion buddies used to do on shore leave to our superiors out the windows of cars we borrowed."

Gimli grinned as Rick explained. That grin turned quickly into a frown when riders approached and a blond-haired man called out to them from atop a horse. "We bid you greetings, strangers. I am Haldir of Lorien and you are the Fellowship, are you not?"

~~~~~~~

It was gentle here, beautiful and peaceful. He found himself enjoying the solitude that he was stealing at the moment. They had explained more about just what it was that he was suffering, but something about those brilliant blue eyes that Galadriel shared with her granddaughter suggested to him that there was still more they were keeping from him. He understood the Elves felt almost like parents over the world of Men, but he was no child in the way they would have to hide terrible secrets to spare him. The blade he had been stabbed by had been cursed, causing him to feel drained and weary, effecting him even to the point that he had begun to see in what they called the 'shadow world'. Given time it would have turned him into one of the black beasts that had wounded him. This was also why the light of the Elves had grown intense, for he was beginning to see beings as they truly were.

She had cured him of the small, life-threatening wound and by all accounts it appeared his weariness had fled. He felt refreshed, energized and able to continue this terrible quest should it be asked of him should home be nothing but a memory now. That was still uncertain. Gandalf had been keeping the book that had brought them here and if he were missing, would he have taken it with him? So many things raced through his mind right now as he wandered through the pretty trees by himself, though doubtlessly watched. Had Gandalf taken the book elsewhere? Had he been killed? Ardeth knew close to nothing of these people, but they seemed to hold the wizard in high esteem. Surely one such as he would not do something as petty as prevent a stranger from reaching his home.

A clear voice rang out through the dimmed forest. She sounded bittersweet and sorrowful, her voice perfect and soothing and enchanting. The voice sang almost angelically and caused Ardeth both sadness and comfort. It was a sound he would carry with him for the rest of his life and grew only more cherished as more Elves joined in. He came before a stream and knelt, looking into the crystal waters for answers, relief and comfort. It was soft to the touch as he rested his fingers within the current, feeling it with his heart and appreciating nature in a new way. Would this world be where he made his final rest? This Middle-earth?

It was then that the presense following him made herself known, coming into the open on soft, bare feet as though she had always been with him. At first he had thought all Elves were quite alike; prim, proper, beautiful and perfect. But even if they each embodied those qualities, they had differences. Elrond and Haldir bore these sophisticated traits, but this woman was unlike them to an almost fundamental degree. She was like an angel and this haven spiritual and more real than anything existence that he had ever known. It was like a dream of Heaven here, where he could rest without care. "It is for you that they sing," Galadriel spoke calmly into the blueness of their surroundings, coming to the grass to sit with him. He looked at the fine fabric of her white dress and thought it would get stained.

"Is it?" Ardeth replied, drawing the refreshing water into his hands to rub across his forehead. It felt cool and soft, just as everything here. The tired Med-Jai sat back on the grass and looked this ageless being over. "Why should they sing for me?" Songs were meant for heroes.

Galadriel tilted her head and listened as the leaves rustled in accompaniment to the voices in the trees. Her voice was gentle, but infused with power. "It is their nature, Ardeth. All things sad and beautiful touch the heart of the Elves. To live for ages is to feel all those ages upon your back. Listen. She says, 'Warrior of Grace. Bright is your victory, but in darkness you walk. The wound you carry will never fade, as all innocence fades. Yet trust to hope and trust the part you will play. Let not the darkness hold to you.' They sing of the quest that has been put before you, you and your friend."

He inhaled the fragrance of the woods and brushed his fingers across the grass, suddenly weighed down by that. Was this what it was to be an Elf? To mourn passionately? "It sounds sad," he commented, drawing a hand to his chest absently. "The wound I carry will never fade? That doesn't offer much hope." Again he wondered what those around him were hiding.

The Elf Lady looked him over with a grace that made him sigh. There was a certain, inescapable truth in her eyes that she made no pretense of easing. "Hope does not erase all sorrow, Ardeth. There are things from which no one can hide. All men are doomed to die."

Ardeth looked up quickly. He was only twenty-five, much too young to call his life to an end. How could a mere scrape do this? "Will I die from this wound? You told me the blade that touched me held a curse, but is there nothing I can do?" This place had a way of drawing his emotions out like poison. Things felt so tangible and he couldn't hide from her knowing eyes. He was afraid of dying. Afraid of leaving behind his duty to his people.

"The wound will take your life," she answered softly, sadly and it made his stomach hurt to hear such blatant honesty. But even still he could hear her voice in his mind breathing of hope that seemed so far away. "Do not be afraid. You still have time and what you do with that time will make this burden seem as nothing. There is a light over your life, Ardeth Bay. You will find the Hall of Kings only after your part is done."

The trickling water called to him again and absently Ardeth placed his hand in the gentle flow, thinking on the flow of time. All he left undone, all he wanted to see finished in his lifetime, was it gone? This knowledge was heavy on his heart, but her words were not without comfort. The Med-Jai looked again into her piercing blue eyes. "How long do I have?"

Galadriel shook her head softly. "That I do not know. The curse is different for each blade. Another called Boromir bore the wound of a Morgul blade many long years ago. It pained him greatly and took his life before the span of a man's life was complete. The Ringbearer also has a wound of this nature and it is not known how it will affect him over the course of his years."

"And nothing can be done." It wasn't a question. If he had never come here he would be fine. He wouldn't have this death sentence over his heart. But his temptation to brood over this was robbed of him, for how could he with what she had just said? Frodo, small and untrained, had the most important quest in the world upon his shoulders and carried it with that same death sentence over his head. In the face of such bravery how could Ardeth let himself be afraid?

It is natural to grieve, she told him, watching him deal with this news. Frodo does not carry the burden on his heart. Elrond did not tell him what I have revealed to you, for the Hobbit has enough on his heart already. The melody in the trees trailed into the background and Galadriel stood up from her place, offering a hand to aid him. "So few years are given to the race of Men. And yet it is the envy of Elves to see them find peace at last."

She linked her arm with his and he felt a quietness come over him. "Have you no peace here?"

"For ten thousand years have I walked this Middle-earth and the sorrow of the ages weighs heavy upon my heart. Such is it for all Elf-kind." Ardeth could almost feel a wistfulness coating her words. "Shortly I will sail to a place where I may find rest, but forever are Elves bound to this world, even until the end of time. For Men it is different, for they are gifted with death. They are taken to dwell with the creator Himself."

Death was a gift to these people? Strange, he thought, that he would see long life as a gift.

Together they walked in silence until they came to where Boromir and Merry were taking breakfast. The red-haired Gondorian looked up with a smile as they approached. "The little one and I were beginning to wonder if the Lady had already sent you home without a proper good-bye."

Merry nodded and took a big bite out of an apple he was working on. Galadriel left Ardeth's side to sit at the table and the Hobbit tossed one to him. "Where've you been, anyway? Not dallying with Lord Elrond's daughter, I trust." Merry gave a decidedly wicked grin.

Ardeth sat down with the two of them, noting Galadriel's amusement. He coughed and shook his head firmly. "I can't say as I have. The Lady was kind enough to heal me."

The little one nodded and nursed his apple while Boromir addressed Galadriel. "You healed him? I had feared the wound had come from a Morgul blade."

"And your fear was correct," she answered gravely with eyes to match. The warrior and she maintained eye contact and Ardeth surmised they may be speaking within their minds. When Boromir looked up from her his expression was pensive, but nevertheless touched by dim relief. Ardeth grew suddenly uncomfortable with this attention and wished the subject changed. Galadriel granted him that. "Rest will do the three of you well as we await word from our riders."

The auburn Lord of Gondor tore his eyes from the Med-Jai. "Aye, but now that another day has passed will you speak of what is to come as you would not before? Do you fear the quest has failed?"

Galadriel watched him unmovingly. "I know not, Boromir, except to say that it is in more peril than ever before of failing. It has been thrown amiss from the beginning, but not yet has it fallen beyond hope. There is much to be decided."

"But the Dark Lord don't have his Ring, you'd think, right?" Merry asked seriously. "I mean you would know that, wouldn't you?"

Her response was bold and honest. "Not all things are given me to see, young Meriadoc Brandybuck. I can only see that there is still yet hope."

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Author: Ruse – jedinineofnine@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: No infringement intended. Naseen and Salih are mine.
Feedback: Yes! By all means, my precioussss, lemme know how I'm doing!
Archive: Sure, just please let me know if you will, so I can stop by and see your site.

A/N: Well, another chapter, another step in the tale. :-D

Reviewers:

Patty – Hehehe…aye, now must worry about Legolas, eh? Doh! Glad you liked what I did with Jonnybears. :-D Thanks!

Tap Dancing Widow – Thank you muchly, yes, those are wonderful characters, aren't they? :-D

Marcher – Yeas, Aragorn is most swoon-worthy. :-D I must pop FOTR in tonight, come to think of it. As for whether you can have both Rick and Aragorn…hmm…can I have both Elrond and Legolas? ;-) :-D Thanks! Glad you like the unusual friendship with Jonny and Leggy…I don't know why, but they just struck me as good pair of pals. Yeah, though…I know what you're talking about, Billy and Socrates…it IS indeed similar! Hehe!

AngelGuide - *sigh* Ah yes, Aragorn is quite the picture of male perfection, isn't he? :-D You know what makes it better is hearing how nice of a guy Viggo can be, too. Eee! Thanks for the review muchly! :-D

Asylum – Hehe…yes, I try to remain true to character and flow of plot. No Sauron diving over the cracks of doom just in time to capture his Ring from peril. ;-) Thank you muchly for the compliments! Means a bunch! :-D You're right…Jonathan should have got a mention, otherwise Evy never would have gone to Hamunaptra without his snatching the trinket. :-D

Karri – Hehehe…I had to make fun of that. Every time I hear Aragorn say that in TTT I roll my eyes. Thank you! Glad you liked last chapter, hope you continue to like and hope you post more of your awesome story soon! ;-)

Deana – Hehehe..I know, but I have to make fun even when ff.net messes with reviews. ;-) Thanks, my friend! I know you're gearing for Ardeth action…it's coming! I promise! :-D Thanks very much for your interest in this, my friend! :-D