Hallo! Me be back! Thx to reviewers!

The next morning dawned.

We ate a meager, but adequate breakfast. And then we prepared to set off.

Da began scaling a small hill, and I followed him, expecting the Hobbits to come right behind.

"Wait! We can't go yet!"

Thorongil looked confused.

"Why not?"

"We haven't had breakfast!"

"Yes we have!"

"One, yes, but what about second breakfast?"

My father stared at them quizzically.

"I don't think they know about second breakfast, Pip."

"What about Elevensies? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? They know about them, don't they?"

Oh no. The had to be joking.

"You're not serious, are you?" I gawked, for a moment forgetting to maintain my man-disguise. The Hobbits didn't seem to notice.

"Of course we are! Don't you eat seven meals a day?"

"No, three, when I can get them."

Pippin gasped.

All the Hobbits cast me pitying glances.

"Come on, Fey."

I obediently followed Thorongil, still in a mild state of shock.

"They aren't following." I whispered after we had disappeared behind a large bush, waiting.

Thorongil sighed, before tossing them some apples over his shoulder.

"Come one, you Hobbits. We have a long way to go yet."

::::::::

Thorongil and I were walking slightly ahead. I was just getting lost in my own thoughts when the Hobbit's whispered voices floated through the air to my ears.

"How do we know they aren't servants of the enemy?"

"Somehow, I think a servant of the enemy would seem fairer, but feel fouler, not them, I suppose they are the opposite."

I snickered.

"Dear father, it appears that your dignity has just been gravely insulted."

"As has yours."

"See, Sam? They seem friendly enough."

"I suppose, Mister Frodo."

::::::::::

I felt like I would die.

Imagine: Wading through a waist-high marsh(Exactly high enough to reach and sting my wound).

Now, imagine that it is hot, muggy, smelly, and exhausting.

Now, add to that a headache, all the discomfort associated with a fever, and general ankle-pain.

You get the idea.

That was how I felt as we waded slowly, painstakingly, through midge-water marshes.

"This is ridiculous! Where did all these midges come from!" The small one(who I believed was called Pippin)wailed in agony, swatting at the small black bugs swarming around his head.

Humph. And he thought he had problems.

"Keep. Moving." My father growled, somehow managing to hold a steady pace. Maybe that was because he was so tall. Us short people were having considerable problems in this waist-high muck.

"How much longer until we are through?" That was the dark-haired one.

"Keep. Moving."

"Do you Rangers ever just act like normal people? Here we have Strider, snapping things like 'Keep. Moving.' over and over, and here we have his sociable friend, Fey, not even talking at all. How do you guys have any fun?" Pippin(he must be, I was sure that was his name)sighed, casting his friends annoyed glances.

"Just please be quiet, all of you." I groaned, ready to strangle their puny necks.

"Fey, please, control yourself."

The Hobbits cast me nervous glances before hurrying on, eager to be free of the marsh.

::

I stumbled, falling on my hands and knees.

"Here."

I glanced up, surprised.

The dark-haired one, Frodo, stood above me, extending a hand, a bright smile on his face.

"Um, thanks." I spluttered, taking it, and so rising.

And now the rest of me was covered in swamp as well.

"Here looks like a good place to rest for the night. Dryer, higher, good coverage of trees. What do you think, Fey?"

"Look's fine to me." I groaned, my vision blurring before my eyes.

Thorongil shot me a concerned glance before beginning to build a campfire.

"Fey?" Pippin ambled over, followed by a curious Merry.

"Hmm?"

"Are you sure you're not a Hobbit? I've never seen a man so short."

I snickered.

Merry came up and measured against me. His head reached my breast. Wow, I never realized how short I actually was.

"No, I'm not a Hobbit, I'm five feet. Do Hobbits ever reach that height?"

"No, but still, Strider is a good head taller than you, it is strange."

"Men vary in height, just like Hobbits. Now, please leave me alone." I sighed, sliding to the ground, cradling my pained head in my aching hands.

"We must hunt for something to eat, coming Fey?"

"Sure."

I rose slowly, attempting to steady my wobbling legs beneath me.

"Stay here. Lay low. Don't move." Strider growled at the Hobbits before fitting an arrow to his bow, hurrying out into the woods, me stumbling behind.

The Hobbits all froze, wobbling back and forth, trying their best not to move a muscle.

"I hope they aren't gone long, I'm having problems keeping my balance." Merry sighed, one foot in the air; he had been in the middle of taking a step when Strider had issued his command.

::

"They are coming! I can hear them! Maybe we can move now!" Pippin cried in joy, rolling his tight shoulders.

The light mood was extinguished as Strider burst through the bushes.

Fey was in his arms, apparently unconscious.

"Fey! What is wrong!" Pippin cried in alarm, rising from his sitting position, eyes wide.

"Nothing is wrong," Strider growled gruffly, "Sam, cook something."

Sam knelt by the fire obediently, fiddling distractedly with his pans.

Strider lay Fey against a tree, feeling for his pulse.

Pippin and Merry glanced worriedly at each other, unsure what they should do.

"Da?"

"Sh, honey, it'll be alright. How do you feel?"

"Bad. Really bad." Fey groaned, cracking his eyes open.

"The arrow must have been poisoned, a much slower poison. Stay still."

Strider rose.

"Hobbits!"

Pippin jumped guiltily.

"Stay here! Fey is fine, just stay here." So saying, he ducked out of the clearing, leaving a tense silence behind.

"Should we do something?" Pippin squeaked, glancing uneasily at the groaning Ranger several feat away.

"No, it looks like Mister Strider's got it all under control. Besides, we might make it worse, Strider didn't want us to do anything. Come, help me cook Supper." Sam stated reasonably, handing Merry a sauce-pan, and Pippin a handful of vegetables.

"Help! Esgalnoron!"

The Hobbits' heads' snapped over towards the short Ranger in alarm.

"Who's Esgalnoron?" Merry whispered with fright, grabbing Pippin's wrist in alarm at the sudden sound.

Frodo approached Fey cautiously, not sure what to do.

"Um, Esgalnoron's right here, it's fine." He shot Sam an awkward glance. His gardener just shrugged.

Fey's features calmed somewhat.

Frodo smiled. Maybe he was helping a little.

"Here comes Mister Strider!" Sam sighed with relief, suddenly realizing that he had let the vegetables burn.

In one stride, the tall Ranger was crouching over Fey.

"What is he doing?" Pippin whispered, stealing some of Sam's precious ingredients.

"Whatever it is, I think Fey will be alright. Come, let's see if we can salvage any of Sam's poor vegetables." Frodo chuckled, poking an unidentifiable burnt something with suspicion.

:::::::::

By looks of the moon, it was nearing midnight.

Thorongil sat by the dying fire, keeping watch while the Hobbits slept.

The night was dark, lonely even. He was relatively alone, so he began to sing. Quietly, he sang the lay of Beren and Luthien.

Carefully, he parted the dark locks of sweaty hair stuck to Thurin's forehead.

She was asleep, curled up on the forest floor, head resting in his lap.

Her sticky hair curled around her, Esgalnoron's beads glinting in the moonlight.

Thorongil ran a hand through her tangled hair, fingering the beads gently, launching into his favorite verse.

"Strider?"

He jumped, surprised, feeling rather violated, having his private moment observed.

"I, I was just wondering what you were singing?" Frodo asked timidly, kicking the snoring Sam lightly, succeeding in making him stop the noise.

"The lay of Beren and Luthien, go to sleep."

Silence.

"Strider?"

Thorongil sighed in frustration. Was he never to have any peace?

"Is Fey alright? Is he very ill?"

Thorongil's heart softened immediately.

"Yes. Fey will be fine. I have given him some herbs with good poison-fighting properties. The poison was not bad, nor the wound deep. Yes, I think he will be well enough come tomorrow."

Frodo nodded solemnly, not understanding half of it.

"Strider? One more thing,"

"Yes?"

"who is Esgalnoron?"

Thorongil tensed.

"How do you know that name?"

"Fey was crying out for him, I...just wondered..."

"A dear friend, now, go to sleep."

Frodo nodded again before lying down, pinching Sam's nose in attempt to stop the ever-persistent snoring, and drifting off to sleep.

Your'e welcome for the update! :) Please review, you don't know how much it means to me. :DDDD

What will happen next? Will they make it to Rivendell? What about Weathertop? Will Thurin be alright? What about our lovely Hobbity friends? Will they find out her true identity? It's only a matter of time now...

Excitedly await the next update!

I say again, review if you value your life. Those who do not review will get a very stern talking to by Thorongil, a death-glare from Thurin, and an arrow-to-the-neck from Esgalnoron. So yeah, please review.

:),

~Thurin