Hey there! Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews and support for for the last chapter – in particular thank you so much to the unnamed Guest who reviewed several chapters and offered such wonderful praise and support. I cannot thank you enough for your kind words – they mean the absolute world to me, and I hope that you know that!

As ever, please forgive any mistakes that I've made here. I am very tired.

Chapter Seventy-Nine: Between a Rock and a Hard Place

He found Gimli alone outside the gates of Edoras. The dwarf was sitting cross-legged on the grass, his axe laid out before him, and his eyes trained on the southern road.

Without a word, Legolas sat beside him, and stared out over Rohan. The twilight was beautiful, gracing the lands' many hills and glittering in its streams and rivers. Behind them, the sunset was one of staggering beauty, but Gimli was not looking that way. He was looking south – south-west – to where the inky dark of night was spilling its way over the land.

It was the road that Pippin and Gandalf had taken, if Legolas was not mistaken. He did not think that he was, but even he could catch no sight of the wizard now.

After a long moment, Gimli gave a heavy sigh. "How's your arm?"

Legolas glanced down at the offending limb, still secured in a sling against his chest. Though nearly a week had passed since the battle, it still sent stabs of pain through him on occasion. It was infuriating – the last time he had been so injured was when he fell out of a tree as an elfling. "It is healing well."

Gimli snorted. "And that's elvish for 'hurts like a warg bite to the arse,' I suppose?"

Legolas laughed, and sure enough the movement sent a spasm of pain up his arm. "That is not a direct translation, but it is close enough. It aches. But it will heal."

"You shouldn't have come with us to Isengard."

"Perhaps."

"You should definitely not ride out to war with us tomorrow."

"Perhaps," Legolas said again. "But it will not stop me."

Gimli raised his eyebrows, though he did not take his eyes from the road. "Whoever first called elves wise had clearly never met one," he grumbled. "Truly, Legolas, I do not think you should come."

Legolas gave a small smile. "I understand. But whether or not you think so, I am coming. I was not the first to say faithless is he who says farewell when the road darkens."

Gimli's face twitched towards a smile, but it did not stick. Instead, he closed his eyes, and bowed his head. "Against my own heart, I have been faithless. My cousins walk down the darkest of roads, and yet I have said farewell to all but one of them. I let Pippin go. I did not look for Nelly and Bróin. I could not catch up with Frodo. I keep looking at Merry, and waiting for fate to take him from me, too."

Legolas looked back at Rohan. "It was not willingly that you left them, Gimli," he said softly. "Nor did you leave their road of your own accord. They will understand."

"I know," said Gimli gruffly. "But It still hurts."

Legolas said nothing. He did not know what words there were to say. But he sat beside Gimli, and when he heard the dwarf sniff, he offered a handkerchief without a word. Gimli took it, and they sat in silence as the night became complete, and the slithering crescent of the moon rose in the sky. It was almost utterly dark before them, with the little light coming from Edoras behind their backs, but in that darkness the beacon on the far mountain grew brighter, drawing Legolas' eye.

It had taken only seconds for Théoden to declare his people would ride to war, after he had seen the beacon had been lit. Legolas had not expected it, not from a man. In riding to war, Théoden was leaving his people defenceless, all in the face of the fading hope that they might be able to stand a while against Mordor. This king was gambling everything on so small a chance, even knowing that his sacrifice could be his kingdom, and his life, and his kin.

It was a gamble that Legolas knew his own father would never take, and that thought sent a twang of shame across his heart. He wondered when it was that his own people developed such an apathy towards men and hobbits and dwarves, and how they could ever have forgotten the bravery and loyalty and nobility that dwelt in their hearts.

If they had not forgotten that the other peoples of Middle-earth were indeed people too, perhaps the world would not be so fractured. Perhaps Théoden would be riding with an army of elves at his back, perhaps a coalition of dwarves and elves were already defending Minas Tirith.

Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

"The beacon gives the men hope," said Gimli, shaking his head. "To me it brings no such comfort."

"Why not? The men of the west are uniting-"

"If the night is burning, I will cover my eyes," intoned Gimli sombrely, his haunted eyes still staring ahead. "For if the Dark returns then my brothers will die. And as the sky is falling down it will crash into each Lonely Town, with Great Shadows upon the ground, I hear my people calling out – Oh Misty Eye of the Mountain, below! Keep careful watch of my brothers' souls, and should the sky be filled with fire and smoke, keep watching over Durin's sons."

Realisation filled Legolas, a warm, sacred feeling, and his mouth dropped open slightly. "That was a prayer."

"Aye."

"I have never heard a dwarven prayer before," murmured Legolas, and a great well of sadness rose within him. "Our peoples have been sundered for too long."

"Well, you started it," sighed Gimli wearily.

"No, I did not," said Legolas calmly. "I was not yet born. Were you?"

Gimli closed his eyes. "No, I was not. Sorry."

Legolas smiled sadly. "Do not be sorry. Perhaps we might make up for our ancestors' misdeeds."

At last, Gimli tore his face from the hills to look at Legolas, a frown on his face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that tomorrow, we will ride for Harrowdale, with an army of men. There will be no dwarves, and no elves. If we fall, we will not die among our people."

"Cheery," said Gimli, raising one eyebrow. "You're doing a great job at lifting my spirits, elf."

Legolas smiled, and squeezed Gimli's arm. "You did not let me finish. Perhaps we cannot die fighting among our people. But we may yet be able to die side-by-side with our friends."

Gimli's mouth dropped open, and he looked away quickly. After a long moment, he nodded. "Aye. I could do that." Then, he punched Legolas deftly in the gut. "You still need lessons in bed-side manner, laddie. Dying and battles – you'd be no good in the Healing Halls, would you?"

"Yet you are smiling," Legolas pointed out, rubbing his stomach.

Gimli rolled his eyes, and as he sat back, Legolas distinctly heard a mutter of, "Elves…"

Nelly was unsettled. She could not put her finger on exactly what it was that was wrong, but there was something, and she had an awful feeling that it was something to do with Gollum. Ever since they had left Ithilien, he had been acting strangely – more strangely than usual. He would run ahead, far ahead, and when they caught up with him, it would be to find him whispering to himself, muttering, and sending vicious glares their way. Every time, he would catch himself, and widen his bulbous eyes and tell them to hurry in a sing-song voice, and Nelly did not like it.

She was also, reluctantly, worried about Toothy. He had been amazingly well behaved, and docile as one of their wolves, but he was big, and not over-fond of silence. As the trees wore away, and the land around them grew sparser and darker, she became more and more aware of the noise that he was making, between the grunts and growls, and the heavy padding of his feet.

She tried to keep the fears to herself even as they grew, but she knew that the others felt them too. There was little in the way of conversation, and she could read the tension in the faces of her friends. She could see their exhaustion in the slump of their shoulders, their unease in the roaming of their eyes.

Of course, her own eyes scanned the land just as much as theirs, and her own shoulders were slumped beneath the weight of the pack Faramir had gifted her. That said, the weight was more a comfort than a burden. After being hungry for so long, it felt good to know that she had as much food as she could carry strapped to her back. And she knew that it was as much as she could carry. Though Sam did not know it, she still been awake when he approached Faramir in the base in Ithilien.

"Begging your pardon, Master Faramir, but I was a-wondering if I could talk to you about the matter of food."

At the sound of the word 'food', Nelly's eyes flickered open, though all she could see was the back of Bróin's head. She could hear him snoring softly, and Frodo breathing heavily behind her, and dimly she wondered why Sam had decided that now was the best time to talk food. Surely it could wait until morning…

"Of course, Master Gamgee," replied Faramir.

"Now, I don't mean to be rude, or ask for more than I've earnt, but I want to make sure we have enough supplies to be get back again, and not just there, if that makes sense. And I'm worried about Nelly and Bróin – Nelly in particular."

Nelly's stomach clenched, and a frown tugged its way onto her face. If Sam was about to pose the 'Nelly is a girl and needs special treatment' point, she would have something to say about it – even if it meant getting more food. But when Sam continued, her anger melted into sorrow.

"See, Saruman didn't feed them nearly enough, and she's – she's still so small. I can see her bones, Master Faramir, and that's not right, not for a hobbit. I've tried to fatten her up, her and Bróin – and he may not look it, sir, but he's little more than a child himself – but we've not had near enough food to do it. Not to mention we've got a warg and old Gollum with us. I know I'm asking a lot, but I'd appreciate it if you'd give us more food than you'd planned. Now, I can't give you anything in return right now, but I'm sure that when this whole mess has blown over my old Bofur'll be happy to-"

"I'll give you as much as you can carry," said Faramir gently. "And I'll have them fill Toothy's saddle-bags, too. We have some dried food that we feed to the dogs – wheat meal and vegetables and offal boiled into biscuits. Now, they taste foul, so I don't advise trying them yourself unless you're desperate, but Toothy may like them, and it should keep him out of your food for a little while."

It had been comical, actually, when they first gave Toothy one of the dog biscuits. He had been so excited, and his attempt to snuffle at his saddle bags made him spin around as though chasing his tail, but when Bróin told him to stop, and promised, 'later,' the warg had relented.

He seemed to like the dog food, though, and it seemed to sate him enough to keep him from begging the others for scraps. He even rolled a few biscuits towards Bróin, though the dwarf simply smiled, and rolled them back.

Time wore on, and even Bróin stopped smiling. It started to become difficult to track the days. The sun was never quite able to fully banish the night away, and darkness hung over the land like a great cloud, smothering light and hope alike.

Every now and again, a little sunlight would peek its way through the clouds, and once it even spurned a crown of yellow flowers to bloom over the decapitated head of a statue. But then the clouds swallowed it, and the blossoms closed, and the group trod on in silence. By the time they reached the great crossroads, the four were wound tighter than Kíli's bowstring. The air was thick with apprehension, and fear wove tightly around their ankles, but no one spoke of it. They hardly spoke at all.

And then, the land grew darker still, and, for the first time, Nelly saw it. A great, black tower – once beautiful, perhaps, but now wreathed in dread and darkness. An odd, green light glowed behind the windows, and the longer that she stared at it, the deeper hole despair carved into her stomach. It stole air from her lungs and made the blood flee from her face, and the fear grasped her so strongly and suddenly that he recognised it.

"The wraiths," she breathed, the whisper of her voice sounding as loud as thunder in her ears. "Is this where the wraiths live?"

"Yes," hissed Gollum fearfully, hurrying across the road to the dark rock on the other side. "Yes, dark things, wraiths, and wraiths with wings! They dwell in the dark place – come, master, come!"

"I think 'live's the wrong word to use, Nell," said Bróin, his voice trembling beneath his joking tone. "They're not exactly ali – Frodo, what're you doing? Frodo!"

Nelly whirled around, and her eyes widened.

Hand outstretched, Frodo was stumbling away from them, his feet moving strangely, dragging against the dirt as though they were not moving of their own accord. Without a second of hesitation, Sam lunged forward, grabbing Frodo around the chest and yanking him backwards, but Frodo fought him, and let out a wild cry. His legs flew into the air, flailing wildly as he pulled against Sam's grasp, trying to move forward, to get away, and as Nelly saw his face, she felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over her heart. Frodo's eyes were glazed over, and there was a look of desperate horror carved so deeply into his face that Nelly could never imagine it to look happy again.

"Frodo, snap out of it!" Sam growled, as Toothy began to whine, his ears plastered against his neck. Sméagol started to whimper, beckoning from the side of the road and staring fearfully at the tower, and then Toothy's whines grew quicker, more desperate, and he sank to the ground, shying away from Minas Morgul with his tail between his legs. "Bróin, grab his-"

"Already on it," grunted Bróin, and he caught one and then both of Frodo's legs.

Throwing back his head, Frodo opened his mouth to scream, but Nelly clamped her hand over his mouth, and together they dragged him across the road. He bucked in their grasp, but they held on, Nelly steering them to the sheer, black rock face on the other side of the road.

And then, in an explosion of white and green light, the sky was split in two. The hobbits and Bróin were thrown to their feet, and Sméagol gave a blood curdling shriek, sprinting for the cover of the nearby rocks, but Nelly could not move – she could not look away. A beam of light as wide as a dragon's leg was shooting into the sky, impaling the dark clouds above them, and it was brighter and more powerful than anything she had ever seen. A sense of dread rose from her toes to her throat, squeezing every part of her with a painful grasp. And then something else grasped her – a hand on her arm – and Bróin wrenched her up onto her feet.

"To the rocks!" he cried. "Move!"

Move.

Nelly turned, looking for Frodo, but Sam had already seized him, and this time, Frodo was not fighting back. Instead, he was holding tight to Sam's arms and darting towards Nelly and Bróin.

"This way!" Bróin gasped, tugging Nelly off of the road and into the rocks on the wayside. He paused at the entrance to a crevice beyond two great, ragged rocks, and ushered the others inside. Gollum was first to leap inside, followed by Frodo and Sam, and when Bróin coaxed Toothy inside, Nelly and Bróin squeezed in too. There was barely any room to move, between the sharp stone ceiling above their heads, and the rugged walls on either side, but if she peered over the boys' heads, Nelly could see the outside.

She could see the light.

It was equal parts mesmerised and terrifying, the light, but then she saw the first of the shadows. With silhouetted wings, it flew up and around the light, and then came another, and another, and before Nelly could count them, the overwhelming sense of dread and Gollum's shriek realised her worst fears.

"Wraiths! Wraiths with wings!"

"Shh!" she hissed desperately, though her eyes were almost as wide as Gollum's. "Shh Sméagol, they might hear us!"

"Are they… are they dragons?" asked Bróin in a faraway voice, and Sam shook his head.

"It doesn't matter," he said, squeezing past Frodo to reach the opening of the crevice. He wiggled out of his cape and hung it quickly from crags in the rocks, shielding Minas Morgul, and the lights, and the wraiths from view. "If they can't see us and don't find us, it doesn't matter what they are."

Taking a deep breath, Nelly nodded, winding her arm around Bróin's and pressing her face into his shoulder. He was pale, and shivering, but he glanced over to smile weakly at her.

And then Sam spoke again. "What was that, Frodo? Before."

Frodo dropped his head back against the wall, sinking to the ground. "I don't know," he groaned. "I – knew that I shouldn't, that I had to turn around, but something was calling me – pulling me. I couldn't… it's so heavy."

Nelly glanced at Bróin and Sam, but they looked at as much of a loss as she was. For once, even she did not know what to say. They were in over their heads, and she did not understand what the ring must feel like, or why it was so heavy, or how she could make it better.

But Sam, ever faithful, ever solid Sam, knew what to do, and he put a hand on Frodo's shoulder. "It's alright, Frodo. We won't let you walk the wrong way."

Frodo smiled weakly back at him, patting Sam's hand. "Thank you, Sam."

Nelly smiled a little, and her lips parted, but before she could agree with Sam, her ears twitched, and the smile bled from her face. "What… what's that noise?" Even as she asked it, she knew what it was. It was marching – hundreds, thousands, of marching feet. Sam turned, and moved the elven cloak an inch to peek outside.

And then the colour drained from his face, and Sam jerked back, moving the cloak back in place.

"What? What is it, Sam?" hissed Frodo.

"It's an army," he said, meeting the frightened eyes of the others. "There's an army of orcs marching this way. Now."

"An army?" asked Bróin weakly. "A – a whole army?"

"Quick!" said Frodo, pulling off his own cloak. "Bróin, cover the other entrance. We'll have to wait it out."

Nelly squirmed out of the way as Bróin hung the cloak over the entrance from the back. A musty darkness surrounded them, and Nelly could only make out vague shapes as the others sat down, surrendering themselves to the silence. She was just about close enough to see Bróin wrapping his arms around Toothy's neck, resting his chin on the warg's head, and every time the warg began to growl, the young dwarf would shush gently, or murmur little Khuzdul comforts. The swell of feet grew louder, and harsh voices joined them, and Nelly closed her eyes. Her hand travelled to her belt, to the knife that Faramir had given her. It would not be much use if they were found, but it made her feel better to have it in her hand.

Everyone was moving so fast, running around with axes and knives and arrows, and Mama was telling them that they had to get ready to go soon.

"You're going to be waiting in the Old Mill," she said, tucking Vinca's hair behind her ear and placing Pippin into Pearl's arms. "We're leaving in just a few minutes, and you're going to be just fine, Odo Proudfoot will be there, and lots of other people, and they'll look after you. You're going to be absolutely fine, I promise."

"Then why are you crying, Mama?" asked Nelly, and Pearl scowled.

"Shh, Nelly!"

"No, sweet-heart, it's alright," said Mama, kissing Nelly's forehead. "It's all just a little bit scary, that's all. Just a little bit. But we're going to be alright, we're all going to be fine. We just-"

"Ellie, where's my bow gone?"

Mama gave a small smile and stroked Nelly's cheek, and then gently pinched Vinca's chin. "I'll be right back, babies." She stood up and walked towards the sound of Papa's voice, and almost the same moment that she did so, there was a small whistle.

Nelly glanced towards it, and saw Nori standing in the hallway. He smiled, and beckoned to her, and she ran over, ignoring Pearl's indignant cry of her name. Nori crouched down to reach her, and she flung her arms around him. Nori gently shifted her onto his knee, and looked at her seriously.

"Now, are you listening to me, Nell?"

She nodded, trying to make her face as serious as his.

"This, all of this goin' on, it's serious stuff. Today is a scary day, but you can't let being scared get to you. Being scared is sense in the face of danger, it's not anything to be ashamed about, but it's not anything that should control you, neither. You gotta use that scared, alright? Let it tell you when to run, use the energy it gives you. But don't let it stop you from doing what you've gotta do."

Nelly swallowed. "What'll I gotta do, Nori? Mama says we'll be in the Mill House, she says it'll be safe."

"And I hope it will be, but sometimes things go wrong. And if things do go wrong, you will have to be a big girl. You might have to run, and you might have to fight," said Nori sombrely. "If something goes wrong, you gotta do whatever you can to get out of there, alright?"

Fear creeping up her throat, Nelly nodded. "Why're you telling me and not everybody else?"

Nori smiled. "'cause you're my favourite." When Nelly giggled, his grin waned a little. "And because I don't have one of these for everyone." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out someone very small – only as long as Nelly's hand. It was made of leather, but it was shaped like a long, pointy leaf, and had a handle like a knife. Nori undid a buckle and pulled on the handle, and Nelly's eyes widened as she saw a flash of metal.

It was a knife.

Nelly looked up at Nori, her eyes so wide that it almost hurt, and he met her gaze for a long moment. Then, he looked back down, and she did too. He pushed it back into the leather and re-did the buckle, and then he placed the knife gently on her open palm, closing her fingers around it. Only then did he speak again.

"Now, this isn't a toy," he said, and she met his eyes again. "It is dangerous – this can hurt, and this can kill. But if the bad guys find you, if you need to use it, you do, alright? Just in case."

"Just in case," she whispered, and Nori smiled.

"Proud of you, kid," he said. "Now, keep that in on you, but keep it hidden. And whatever you do, don't tell your mama that I gave it to you, alright?"

She never had told her mother about that knife. She was not sure if Ellie even knew that she had it. She knew that Nelly had knives, of course, but that one specific blade was Nelly's own little secret. She had kept it ever since the day that the Shire was attacked. Nori had looked after it for a while, but only until he had taught her how to safely use it, and believed her promises to never, ever, use it as a toy. She had outgrown it, but it made her feel safe. It made her feel like she could make herself safe.

But that knife, like everything else she had ever owned, was gone.

She had last had it at Rauros, but whether she had dropped it there, or it had been taken by the uruk-hai, she did not know. The knife on her belt was not hers. The clothes on her back were not hers. But the knife she missed more than anything, except perhaps her elven corset. A small, sad smile slipped over her face at the thought of what Nori would say.

"Why you so worked up about a knife? It's just a knife. I'll make you a new'un."

Her arm wove around her stomach, and she bowed her head. The feet were still marching past, the army was still passing, and if felt like it was passing forever.

But, slow as it was, the time did move on. The marching dulled and dwindled, until it was nothing more than a whispered memory on the breeze. Still, they waited, until Nelly had counted two hundred breaths in silence, and then Sam peeked out from behind the cape.

"The light's still there, but I think we're clear."

"Yes," rasped Sméagol, in a voice that sounded strangely excited. "Yes, clear we are, precious. It is time, it is time! Up, up, up the stairs we go!"

"What's at the top of the stairs?" asked Bróin warily.

"The way to Mordor," said Gollum, and something about his voice made the hair on the back of Nelly's neck stand on end. "And… the tunnel."

I hope that you enjoyed that chapter! Again, sorry not to show as many threads of the story as I would have liked, but I hope that the little Nelly/Nori flashback was enjoyable for those of you asking for more Nelly/Nori scenes! Please let me know what you thought of the chapter if you can, and I will do my best to see you next week!

Until then, take care!