Merry Christmas! I've been full on busy since I woke up on Christmas Eve, so I'm sorry this didn't get up yesterday. Nevertheless, we've done an advent calendar – 24 chapters in 25 days. I am currently exhausted and updating when the family has all gone to bed, so apologies for any typos.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Disharmony

Of her three boys, the last one Dís would have expected to trigger discord among the races and take a potentially apocalyptic situation into his own hands would be Frodo. Even when she first met him, and he was scarce as high as her waist, he had possessed a good deal of sense, and a quiet knack for diffusing tension and breaking down barriers between people.

It had grown into a friendly diplomacy that she could not be more proud of. Frodo was neither rash, nor selfish, and thought often of how to improve and sustain relations between the peoples of the world. As well as the Shire and the Mountain, he had good friends in New Dale, and even a couple in Mirkwood, yet he maintained all the humility of a simple Shire hobbit.

What Frodo had done was not a grab at glory. She knew it could not be, not from her Frodo. Not the boy who had to be hunted down by Dwalin to attend his bi-weekly swordplay lessons when he would rather be reading. The lad who would dance around in the background to make his friends look better – the hobbit who would forsake tournaments and even parties to curl up and read his little cousins bedtime stories, and watch them while their parents partook in the revelry in his stead.

He had never wanted fame and glory. Frodo had only ever wanted everyone to be safe, and happy. She knew that. It was why her sorrow far outweighed her anger at his decision. Her irritation died when she thought of his motives, and crumbled at the notion that he had not seen another choice.

But others did not know Frodo as well as she, and the hastily gathered council was quick to prove it so.

"Such treachery has not been seen since the dark days," declared Galdor, the pretentious messenger from the Grey Havens. He had a rather unpleasant face, in Dís' opinion – his eyes were too narrow and his beardless chin was pointy as Nori's hair.

"Treachery?" snarled Nori, before Dís could get a word in. "They are no traitors – fools, perhaps, but not traitors. They did this to protect their own, the damn idiots -"

"Or to play the role of hero against foes they can barely envision," Galdor interrupted, punctuating his words with a sniff of his stupid, upturned nose.

Dís took a deep breath and tried not to glare at the elf. "For some youngsters it might have been, but not these. When they sought to come with us they raised valid points – they are skilled in both combat and, espionage," It was not the word Dís really wanted, but it would do. "They are young and strong, faithful and quiet – they can move with more subtly and silence than any elf, even Bróin. They are somewhat accustomed to long journeys, and know the basic geography and politics of Middle-Earth. Had logic overcome love, some may have been included in the counting of the Fellowship."

"That may be true," said Glorfindel, his voice soft and sad. Dís' heart sank. and Thorin's heart sank. "But they are untested in war, and against such great suffering. Their hearts are true and brave, yet they cannot fathom the darkness of the path to come."

For that, Dís had no answer. She feared the same – that Frodo and the others would be tormented by the darkness before them, tortured and even killed –

"Is it possible that Aragorn and his companions knew?" asked Erestor of Rivendell. "Aragorn took Anduril with him." Catching the confusion of those around him, the elf added, "The name given to the re-forged sword of Elendil."

Dís' frown deepened. She could not speak for Aragorn or Boromir, or the son of Thranduil, but Gimli would surely never hide such a thing from his Aunt Dís, not when he thought himself one of the adults.

Would he?

To her surprise, Glorfindel seemed to be thinking much the same thing. "I doubt it. I doubt the sword meant nothing more than a precaution. Yet it is not meaningless that it has left Rivendell, intact, at last. I do not doubt that Aragorn and his companions could be persuaded to join the cause, if they are unable to bring the young ones back."

That sounded much more likely to Dís. But then, she had never expected Frodo to take the ring in the first place.

Frodo, my darling, what have you done?

"Some," said Elrond slowly, "may deem that this was always meant to be the way. That fate chased them to this course."

"And some," said Nori tightly, "would tell fate to shove its head up its backside and drop adventure and doom on those who had already embraced it."

"We must go after them, now," insisted Kíli, cutting over the shocked murmurs of Erestor and Galdor. "We must reclaim the ring, and the quest, send the young ones home and destroy the cursed thing ourselves."

"Who would claim the ring?" argued Galdor. "Master Baggins? Has it not been proven that halfings are unwise bearers? First Gollum, whose transgressions are black indeed, then Master Baggins, who was so indolent in his care that the thing was lost, and the latest halfling to take it is a thief."

Red descended before Dís' eyes, and she did not notice Bilbo spluttering in protest as she leapt to her feet. She did not notice the howls of outrage from the others, the furious arguments from the dwarves of Erebor in defence of their hobbits. All Dís noticed was her own fury. How dare – how dare this stranger, this elf say such things about her son, about her husband? How could he compare them to that foul creature? Bilbo was not idle, and Frodo was not a thief, and she roared these facts until her throat burnt and choked her words with a cough.

"Enough," Gandalf called, rising from his seat and bringing an instant hush. Dís' breath was coming fast and short, and she had much left to say, but her respect for the wizard curbed her tongue. His face was stern and grave, and there was a fury blazing in his eyes that belied the calm tone of his voice. "Galdor, you do not know of what you speak. I have known these hobbits for nigh on seventy years, and I can assure you that they are no traitors, nor indeed ill-fit bearers of such a burden. At least, they are no worse than any other race, and far better than some. To compare Bilbo and Frodo Baggins to Gollum is most unfair, and if I may say so, an utter disgrace. When he had but glimpsed the ring, Gollum willingly murdered a dear friend to take it. Bilbo, on the other hand, spared the life of one who had attempted to murder and devour him when he not only possessed the ring, but wore it. By race, perhaps, they are similar, but in character they are as different as a volcano and a snowflake."

Dís heard Bilbo sigh softly, and she looked quickly at him. He was very pale, and the smile he offered Gandalf was very weak. Her anger sank to simmer below her sorrow, and she sat back down, taking her husband's hand. His eyes met hers.

"Yet," continued Gandalf, "Kíli is right. This, conspiracy, as they could be called, may have bitten off more than they can chew, and I fear for them. We should set out after them."

Dís paused mid-nod, an awful thought entering her mind. "But would that not draw the eye of the enemy straight to them?"

Murmurs broke out around the table, and Gandalf's face darkened. "It is possible, yes. Their departure may not yet be noticed…"

"Then are we to sit here and do nothing?" demanded Kíli.

"No," Dís said, putting a hand on her son's arm. "No, we will not do nothing. Going after them may be necessary, but we cannot simply charge off without causing more harm than good. We must be careful."

"But are we worrying for nothing?" asked Erestor of Rivendell, though the hope in his voice was half-hearted. "There is no saying that Legolas and Aragorn and their companions will not return with the young ones in tow."

"They won't," said Nori bluntly. "There's no way. They can't bring 'em back, not with a group of four. It'd be easier to herd eagles on horseback, with your hands tied behind you. Those kids know more'n enough tactics to avoid that, 'specially Nelly and Bróin. They're quick as death, and can hide like shadows in sunlight. Gimli and the lads might catch one or two, but never all six. And if it's Frodo who has it, they'll make sure he's one of the ones that gets away. Gimli won't bring them back. It's not gonna happen."

Her heart heavy, Dís nodded. The innate skill of the hobbits with the training of the dwarves was a lethal combination when it came to envision, and Dís began to pray that encouraging it in the past would not lead to the slaughter of her little dwobbits in the future.

"So, they would run?" surmised Galdor. "Or just kill their pursuers for 'the greater good,' if they are as skilled as you say."

It truly impressed Dís that Elrond responded so quickly that the incensed dwarves, hobbits and wizard were still drawing breath. His voice cut across the protests and roars of anger before they began, and if the faces of Glorfindel and Erestor were anything to go by, he cut over the anger of a few elves, as well.

"That is enough, Galdor. These are friends of Rivendell, and Gimli, their kin, was among the pursuers. I do not deem that any would think to turn sword to a friend, let alone their family." There was so much icy authority ringing in the elf's tone, that Dís was surprised Galdor managed to create a coherent response.

But when the stupid creature spoke, his voice held more defeat than provocation. "We did not think Saruman would betray us." Then he sighed, and stared at the dwarves. "You would ask the same of me, were they my kin."

Dís glared at him, and failed to keep the venom from her voice when she spoke. "I would ask, but I would use tact, and courtesy."

The elf's mouth fell open, and his face lost all colour. He averted his gaze, and for a moment, all was silent. Dís could feel Bilbo's hands trembling, and a scowl of fury was carved into his face. It could not quite remove the fear from his eyes.

Gandalf gave a heavy sigh. "I am afraid that time is not our ally. A decision must be made, and before the height of the afternoon. In any case – some of you have great need to get to Erebor. If we set out for the mountain in great haste, we may be able to overtake this conspiracy, and stop them in their tracks. Moreover, if we do not overtly track them, we should be able to avoid drawing too much attention to them."

"That is a risk, Gandalf," breathed Dís.

"And even if we went, what of Bofin and Vinca?" Bofur looked to Bilbo. "I would not bring them into this."

"If she wished to come, I would have Vinca with us," Dís admitted, to the surprise of some around her. "She is an excellent tracker, she could be very useful."

"I offered sanctuary before," said Elrond with a wry smile. "And I will not deny it to any who wish to stay. Master Bofin is more than welcome, as are any of your company, and may remain under my protection for as long as it can last."

"Call them in," advised Gandalf. "Pervinca and Bofin – there is not enough time to relay the whole discussion to them. They may choose their paths here, if their guardians are willing." He glanced through the window at the steadily rising sun. "Noon is but an hour away. By then, a decision must be made."

Travelling on a dangerous, top secret mission was quieter than Sam expected.

Of course, he had not expected to be chatting and singing all the way into Mordor, but even when they were riding at a good pace there had been a good deal of talking before Gimli and the others caught them up. Quiet talking, they were not fools, after all, but easy talk nevertheless.

Sam did not trust the new silence. For that matter, he did not trust the newcomers.

Gimli, of course, was all but family, and Sam loved him dearly, yet he did not trust him. He was not wholly convinced that Gimli would not try and seize them by the ear when their guard was down, and drag them back to Rivendell.

Legolas looked like he very much wanted to do just that. His eyes were impassive as stone, but his mouth was the tight line of one sucking a lemon. The elf had readily admitted that he was not convinced by their arguments, that he would turn back if he could. As such, Sam kept a sharp eye on him.

That was not even taking the men into account. They seemed to be won over, but Boromir had keen eyes and a very big sword, and Aragorn had already proven himself a more than capable fighter.

If the hunters turned on the conspiracy, there would be trouble.

When night began to fall they simply continued, as they had before, until Pippin spotted a good spot to camp beneath a small overhang. Bróin lit a small, smokeless fire, and the light danced over the campers, painting shadows over their faces. Ignoring the hunters, Sam took up his position of cook, and began tossing the day's rations into his pot.

The role of cook was one he shared with Bróin, and the day before the dwarf had made a surprisingly succulent stew with their strict rations and a coney Merry had shot during the day, and Sam was determined to match the dwarf's skill. He was not entirely sure that he had when he finished creating his soup, but he reasoned that Bróin had been able to cook with meat, and that had padded out things a lot. But even as these things buzzed around his mind, he had half an eye on Legolas, and an ear pricked for any sudden movements. Not that there was anything much to hear.

Some blunt, awkward attempts at conversation littered the time leading up to dinner, but it was not until they were all eating that Boromir cleared his throat and broke the silence with a full sentence. "So, which course are we actually taking?"

Sam looked up sharply, but it was Nelly who answered. Her voice was calm and firm, much like Dís', and Sam knew full well that it would remain so even if she edged towards a lie. There was a reason that she answered most questions posed towards the group – she knew how to spin an answer.

For now, though, she did not seem to feel the need to lie.

"We're heading for the Redhorn Pass."

Gimli spat out his soup, and Sam frowned heavily at him. "Are you mad?"

"No," said Frodo mildly, despite the trepidation in his eyes. "That was the course that Gandalf and Bilbo were leaning toward, given that the gap of Rohan lies so close to Isengard. You must know that, Gimli?"

"Aye," he growled, wiping his moustache. "But I thought you'd have had more sense. Caradhras-"

"The Cruel," chanted each of the conspirators.

"We know," added Merry.

"But what option would you suggest?" Nelly raised her eyebrows, and Gimli said nothing. "We do have a back-up, of course."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"Moria."

It was Aragorn's turn to choke on his supper. "What?"

Gimli, however, stroked his beard, and glared thoughtfully at Nelly. "Balin has been sending out scouts for the past two years. They found little sign of recent orc activity, and the place seemed abandoned. Thorin was considering sending an envoy there to reclaim the city, but I doubt anyone will think of that now."

"That is folly indeed," said Boromir, the firelight reflecting surprise from his wide eyes. "The Black Mines are filled with dangers beyond orcs, if half the tales are true."

"Don't worry," said Nelly, pausing to sip her soup. "We'll only make for the mines if we can't cross the big snowy mountain."

Boromir stared at her for a long moment, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you have any idea the dangers that encompass crossing Caradhras? You seem to think of this as if it were a picnic."

Uh oh. Sam glanced at Nelly as she placed her bowl down on the ground before her. Her eyebrows had drawn dangerously low over her eyes, and her voice rang out cold and hard.

"Oh, do I? Because I do not twitter on about doom and gloom after every sentence? If I swooned, perhaps, would you think me better suited? Of course not. I see the danger, and I respect it, but I will not fear it. Fear chases away common sense, and that is something that we cannot afford to lose. Especially with Pippin in the company."

Her brother frowned deeply, but Merry grabbed Pippin's wrist and shook his head before the younger hobbit could reply.

"I doubt not your heart." Boromir put down his own bowl and put his hands on his knees. "But you cannot simply deny danger, and I am not sure you have thought this through. Women have different needs than-"

Before the man could finish, Gimli and the conspiracy shuffled quickly and shamelessly backwards, and Boromir stared at them in confusion. Nelly, however, laughed. It was not her usual laugh, it was tighter and colder.

"I ask for nothing more than the boys ask for, and I will do everything that they do. Often, I do it better."

"That," muttered Pippin, "is sadly true."

"Do not worry yourself, Master Boromir. I know how to take care of myself, and any 'needs' I may have. If you have a problem with my being here, either we duel to see if my sword is as good as my word, or you go back to Rivendell to tell Bilbo and Dís where this wee little lass has gone." With that, Nelly tossed her hair over her shoulders, and took a deep breath, which she released with a huff. Then, she took up her soup once more, and smiled wryly. "Come now, boys, I can hold my temper. Nowadays."

Sam glanced suspiciously at Frodo, but the young Baggins was grinning, and shaking his head. Frodo was the first to return to his prior seat, continuing with his meal as though nothing had happened.

"Aye, but none of us have forgotten the tantrum of 2950," said Bróin darkly, though he grinned and returned to her side. Then he sighed, drew back his shoulders, and stared Boromir in the eye. "I understand your concern. I wouldn't take any woman on this trip. I wouldn't take my mother or my sisters – but I wouldn't take just any man either. I wouldn't take Bofin, even. Doesn't like travel, Bofin, and he's not the strongest fighter or tracker either. He'd want to want to come, but he'd hate every second of it. And worry all the time. Now, I would take Auntie Esme or Dís or Vinca, if they were willing, for they are as strong and brave as we are. And trust me, we're better off with Nelly here."

Sam nodded sharply at this, folding his arms over his chest. Nelly give Bróin a grateful smile. Boromir looked thoughtful for a long moment, then inclined his head.

"It is not in the culture of my people to send women on dangerous missions, or see them fight with the men. We see that as careless and cruel, and a failure on the part of our men-folk. Yet I yield to both your logic and your custom. I assure you, I meant no offense by my words. I am sorry." He bowed his head with his hand on his chest, and Nelly stared at him for a long moment.

Then she smiled wryly. "Your apology is accepted, and appreciated. I suppose culture clashes will be inevitable, now."

Aragorn gave a sigh like a laugh, and shook his head. "I don't doubt it. In Gondor it would be highly offensive to fail to mention the needs and allowances of a woman, particularly on so dangerous a quest."

"Among dwarves it is manners to ask if anything is needed," said Gimli, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Yet rude to imply that you think it necessary. And, of course, when it comes to Nelly, it's better just to pretend she was born a boy."

She pulled a face but made no comment. Silence fell over them like a scratchy woollen blanket, and Sam returned his focus to his dinner. Again, it was Boromir who spoke.

"So. Which one of you has the ring?"

"Why'd you want to know?" Sam said immediately, looking up so fast that he sloshed soup all over his hands. The hairs on the back of his head rose even as his eyes narrowed.

Boromir looked rather surprised. "Why should I not know?"

"You might throw whoever has it over your shoulder and run back to Rivendell," said Sam hotly, staring intently at the man. He jerked his thumb towards Legolas. "He certainly would!"

Boromir's cheeks flushed, and his eyebrows lowered angrily. "Have you so little trust in us? You say this is a matter of the 'greater good' – if we run into orcs, say, who shall we protect if only one can be saved? How can we know who will need more support than any other on this quest? There is wisdom in secrecy, but secrets between allies rarely breed good fortune."

"I agree," said Aragorn quietly, rubbing his chin. "We ought to know, Sam. We mean no harm. We gave our word to help, we will not bear you back now."

Sam huffed and folded his arms, but he did not say any more. He alternated his glare between Boromir and Legolas – the most suspicious, the hardest to read.

Gimli stared at each of them in turn, and then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fíli and Kíli are going to kill me," he muttered, his voice barely audible. Were they not next to each other, Sam would have missed it. Then Gimli looked up and sighed again, speaking for all to hear. "Frodo has it."

Sam and the others all tensed, and Frodo's hands delved deeper into his pockets.

Nelly's sharp tongue beat even Sam to the chase. "What makes you say that?"

Raising his head, Gimli shot her a withering look that was so similar to his father's glare that Sam half thought Glóin had joined them. "I know you. All of you." Sam felt his ears start to go pink. He felt quite guilty enough for running away like this, and did not need Gimli adding to his shame. "It was Bilbo's ring, so Frodo took it." Though he was not sure, Sam thought he caught the dwarf muttering, "And you wouldn't let anyone else take it."

Slowly, Frodo nodded. Wariness lingered in his gaze, but he held his head high. "I have it."

"We debated passing it around," admitted Bróin. "Lest anyone get over-fond of the stupid thing."

"But we decided against it," finished Nelly.

"I take it this was your idea in the first place, Frodo?" asked Aragorn. There was no accusation in his voice, only a calm interest.

"Yes, and no." Frodo sighed, and leant back against a nearby tree. He looked exhausted, and Sam felt a surge of sympathy for his friend. He decided to make sure that Frodo got an extra blanket tonight. "I was determined to do something, but I knew Bilbo would be watching me, so it was Merry and Pippin who watched the council. As it turned out, Nelly was watching too."

"Never rely on another's report if you can collect the information yourself," Nelly recited.

"It's one of Nori's 'rules'," said Pippin.

Frodo ignored them both and continued. "She saw Merry and Pippin sneaking away afterwards, and we met the next day for a council of our own."

"It was a group decision," Merry concluded.

"You were watching the council?" Legolas spoke sharply, and Sam noted that it was the first time the elf had spoken since they sat down. "I did not see you."

"We were in the bushes just behind Bilbo's head," said Merry. "And Nelly was up a tree behind us. Even we didn't see her."

"Told you," Nelly smirked. "I'm sneaky." Then she glanced up at the sky and her smile faded. "We should set a watch and get some sleep. We're up before dawn again tomorrow."

"Voluntarily?" Gimli raised an eyebrow.

"Unfortunately," sighed Pippin. He had not enjoyed their early mornings, though Frodo had enjoyed rolling the younger hobbit out of his bedroll.

"You caught us up," Nelly pointed out grimly. "If we are lucky there will be another day or so before the others figure it out, but we cannot rely on luck. We must put as much distance as possible between us and Rivendell. It will be a hard ride tomorrow if we are to reach Hollin the day after."

"That is a tight schedule indeed." Aragorn frowned and glanced at Gimli. "Possible for the wolves and the horses, but will your pony keep up?"

Gimli puffed up his chest and scowled. "Odo's one of the fastest ponies I've ever seen, and he has the heart of a lion. He'll do just fine."

Sam glanced at the snoozing pony and rubbed his jaw. He missed Bill, and had hated the look in the pony's eyes when Sam had called a wolf instead of his own trusty steed, but it was more sensible. And safer for dear old Bill.

"We'll see," Frodo said doubtfully. "But if he cannot keep up we may need to take the baggage from Kanna, and then you can ride her, Gimli."

The wolf in question let out a soft whine, and then got to her feet and stretched, before trotting over to Gimli to lick him on the nose.

"Perhaps," the dwarf acquiesced, scratching Kanna's nose. "We shall see. Wait – how did you get so much baggage?"

Nelly grinned. "Why, Merry and Pippin, of course! If they're good for anything, it's smuggling food."

I really hope you enjoyed that chapter, and I'm sorry for any typos that snuck through my fumbling fingers. An ENORMOUS Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and an equally big load of love to all of you who don't! The next chapter should be up shortly - in the new year I will be attempting a twice-weekly updating schedule, so you should not go too long without updates :D