Hey everyone! Yeah, i know it has ben a while. But I am back with a new amd much revamped chapter 3! Seriously, i went all out trying to make this chapter better, and i genuinely hope you enjoy this version more. On with the tale, then!

Discaimer- both worlds, places and characters do not belong to me.

Chapter 1.

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Gondor

Seek for the Sword that was Broken,

In Imladris it dwells;

There shall be counsel given,

Stronger than Morgul spells;

There shall be shown a token,

That Doom is near at hand;

For Isildur's Bane shall awaken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand.

Boromir gasped as he awoke, grasping at his bedsheets. He sat up, then took a draught of water from the jar by his bed. The Dream. The Rhyme. It was no coincidence. He got out of bed and threw a shirt on, then walked out of his room quickly and knocked insistently on the door of the room opposite his. Nobody answered. Frowning, he knocked harder. "Faramir, wake up!"

Something stirred inside the room, and the door opened slowly. Faramir stood there, eyes still heavy from sleep, not even bothering to throw on a shirt. "Boromir, it is far too early for the morning patrol. There must be many hours till dawn!"

Boromir grasped his brother's shoulders. "Faramir, listen. I had that dream. The dream you told me about! The one you kept having!"

That shook Faramir awake. His eyes widened. "Seek for the Sword that was Broken." He quoted.

Boromir nodded frantically. "In Imladris it dwells."He completed the line.

Faramir shut the door in his face, and the sounds of a man hastily changing could be heard from inside. Faramir threw open the door again, this time with a shirt on. "Do you know what this means, brother? We have to tell Father about this!"

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"Imladris, yes, I know that name. It is the name of a far northern dale, where the elves still dwell. To us, it is known as Rivendell, home of Elrond Halfelven. He is the greatest of the lore-masters, and his wisdom is said to be exceeding great." Denethor spoke slowly.

"Then there is no room for doubt, is there?" Faramir asked. "Give me a horse, father, and provisions for a journey, and I shall ride to this Rivendell and seek counsel for these dark times."

"No! I shall not allow this kind of…Foolishness! Following a dream!" Denethor thundered.

"Father, the dream has come to Faramir for many days. You know this. Now it has come to me. It is clear that we are to go to Rivendell. You know yourself that the times are dark. Only weeks ago Osgiliath was nearly taken by the Dark Lord's servants." Boromir defended his brother.

Denethor turned away. "Our need is not that desperate that we need to go the elves for counsel. What next? Perhaps you would speak to Eru Iluvatar himself?"

Faramir frowned. "I disagree, father. Our need is greater than ever. Mordor has allied itself with the cruel Haradrim and the Easterlings, but it is not that. If it were only numbers, I would not be so desperate. A power was there that we have not felt before."

"Aye." Boromir agreed. "Some said that it could be seen, like a great black horseman, a dark shadow under the moon. Wherever he came, madness filled our foes, making them bolder, while fear fell upon even the strongest of us, so that horse and man gave way and fled. It wielded pure fear and darkness."

Denethor sighed. "You are committed to this? Nothing I say will persuade you otherwise, Faramir?"

Faramir shook his head. "None."

Denethor stood up. "Then saddle your horse and leave. I care not."

Boromir noticed the quick expression of hurt that flickered across his brother's face, and he frowned. "No."

Both his brother and his father turned to him, questioning. "Faramir shall not go. The way will doubtless be full of doubt and danger. I am stronger than my brother. I shall go."

Both immediately made sounds of protest. "NO! You will stay here at Gondor, Boromir. You are not going on this fool's errand." Denethor commanded.

Boromir looked his father in the eye. "You were perfectly willing to allow Faramir to go, father. I am stronger than my brother, you know this. I will go. You cannot stop me."

Denethor looked at him in fury, but he saw the resolve in Boromir's eyes, and he threw up his hands in disgust. "Fine! Leave! Go to the elves and leave Gondor undefended! Suit your own desires! Fool of a son!" He stormed out of the room with his robes flapping behind him.

Boromir and Faramir's eyes followed their father until he was gone, and they stared at each other helplessly. Faramir sighed. "I'll go back to my Rangers in Ithilien, then. Father will certainly not want me around the Minas Tirith at this time."

Boromir nodded slightly. "I will go to prepare some provisions now."

Faramir smiled. "Alright, I suppose I will help you as well. Knowing you, you would pack your horn, shield and sword and forget everything else."

Boromir snorted with quiet laughter. "you know me too well, brother mine."

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Erebor

The messenger from Mordor had returned again. Clothed entirely in black, upon a black horse, with a fell voice and an unsettling aura of menace. Dain, king of Erebor in the Lonely Mountain, went out to meet him once more. Along with him went the surviving companions of the Battle of the Five Armies, nearly sixty years ago. Dwalin, Dori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, and Gimli's father Gloin. Gimli snorted slightly as he watched Bombur moving towards the gates. Bombur was now so fat that he could not move himself from his couch to his chair at the table, and it took six young dwarves to lift him.

It was the third time the messenger had returned. Each time he said the same things. "The Lord Sauron the Great wishes for your friendship. Rings he would give for it, as the Seven he had given of old." He would also ask of hobbits. What they were, and where they dwelt, "For Sauron knows that one of those was known to you on a time."

Whenever he mentioned the hobbit, Gimli would notice his father and his companions faces tighten. They knew of this hobbit. If he could hazard a guess, Gimli would say that the hobbit would be the one on the tapestries in the throne room of Erebor. The tapestry depicted the thirteen dwarves, led by Thorin Oakenshield and Gandalf the Grey. It also had a small man, not a man, yet smaller than a dwarf behind. That, perhaps, would be the hobbit, but his father would say nothing of him.

The messenger continued. "As a small token only of your friendship Sauron asks this, that you should find this thief, and get from him, willing or no, a little ring, the least of rings, that once he stole. It is but a trifle that Sauron fancies, and an earnest of your good will. Find it, and three rings that the Dwarf-sires possessed of old shall be returned to you, and the realm of Moria shall be yours forever. Find only news of the thief, whether he still lives and where, and you shall have great reward and lasting friendship from the Lord. Refuse, and things will not seem so well. Do you refuse?"

At that, the messenger breathed out, like a hiss, and Gimli felt a cold hand of fear clutch his heart, and he shuddered. Dain, the King, gathered his courage. He, too, obviously knew of whom the messenger spoke, but everyone knew that the messenger could not have good intentions towards the hobbit. "I say neither yea or nay. I must consider this message, and what it means under it's fair cloak." Behind him, the dwarves gave their support.

"Consider well, but not too long." The messenger growled slightly.

"The time of my thought is my own to spend." Dain answered boldly.

"For the present. I have come three times, and three times you have given me no answer. I shall come one more time before the end of this year, and then I will demand your answer." He threatened, and he rode off into the darkness.

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"What do you think? What could the Lord of Mordor possibly want with Bilbo?" Bofur asked the assembled group.

Dain sighed as he eased himself into the stone throne. "I think you had best tell me what you know of your fourteenth companion, Bilbo Baggins. I only met him once, 60 years ago, and I confess I do not remember much."

The seven dwarves then launched into the story of Bilbo's unexpected journey to the Desolation of Smaug and beyond, and the great battle of the five armies. For the first time, Gimli heard all about his father's exploits against the dragon,and he was filled with awe. "Bilbo is a good hobbit." Dwalin concluded. "As for this ring that the messenger claims he stole, we do know of it. But Bilbo did not steal it. He won it in a game in the Misty Mountains! The messenger must be lying."

Dain rubbed his temple. "What are we to do? What has this hobbit done to incur the interest of Mordor?"

There was a collective mumble of confusion.

Dain frowned."The Shadow grows and draws nearer."

"Aye." Bifur nodded assent. "I have heard that the messenger has also gone to Brand, grandson of Bard. Brand is afraid. He might yield."

Dain sat up straight. "At any rate, we shall have to warn the good hobbit that he is under threat. Who shall go to Rivendell to warn him?"

Gloin raised his hand. "I have nothing better to do, my King. I shall take my son Gimli with me too."

Gimli frowned a little. "Elves, father?"

Gloin sighed. "You need to go out and see the world, Gimli my son. It would do you good. Come now. Gather your things."

Dain stood up. "Gloin, consult Elrond too. Tell him of the messengers claims, and ask him what it means. We need to know more of this."

Gloin bowed. "Yes, my King. We leave tomorrow."

Dain nodded. "The council is adjourned."

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Mirkwood

Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, made his way to one of the great trees, where below three elven guards sat waiting impatiently. "Has he descended yet?" Legolas asked.

The guards sprang up, bowing. "No, my prince. He is still clinging to that bough with his feet and hands."

Legolas sighed. "Night is coming. If he hasn't descended by then, cut down the tree." He commanded, striding back into his Father's realm.

He was watchful. Though the White Council had drove the Necromancer out of Mirkwood sixty years ago, the darkness had returned once more, and Mirkwood was once again an evil place, save where their realm was maintained. It would not do to be careless.

He cast a glance back to where the elves were still waiting for the prisoner. The prisoner had arrived many days and nights ago, frog-marched between Mithrandir and Aragorn. A sly, skulking creature, thin as a stick, and hairless. Long grasping fingers and an expression of malice. Mithrandir had requested they guard the creature day and night, but also not to kill it, for he still had hope for its cure.

They had watched the prisoner, then. For days and nights, until they wearied of the task, but still they kept to it. The prisoner , which Aragorn had named Gollum, loved to climb, so often they allowed him to climb a tall tree, under guard, of course, in hope that he would repent and be cured. But today had been different. Today Gollum had clung to the tree and refused to come down. The guards weren't particularly eager to go after him, as he could cling to a bough with a death-grip, so they had settled for waiting for him to come down.

He spent the rest of the day in his father's realm, making sure everything was going well. Night fell, and still the prisoner had not returned. A measure of disquiet entered his heart, and he waited at the doors, hoping for the safe return of the guards and the prisoner.

The night was moonless and starless. For many hours, Legolas waited until he could wait no more. He found his bow and a quiver of arrows and ran to the tree where he had saw them last.

Blood. There was blood on the ground, and a dead orc. The guards were slain around the tree. "Rhaich!" Legolas swore. An orc? So close to his father's realm? He checked the ground, noting faint prints, and took off in the direction of the footprints. He glanced upwards to the trees, and saw his fears were true. Gollum was gone.

Legolas frowned. This was serious indeed. Mithrandir would have to be told. He sprinted back into the Elf-Kingdom and called for provisions for a journey to Rivendell. He would leave tomorrow.

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Weathertop

Aragorn's sword clashed with the black wraith in front of him. Dimly, he was aware of the hobbits screaming and panicking in fear. He mentally cursed the young hobbits for foolishly making a fire in spite of all the danger. He should have realized that hobbits thought with their stomachs. This was bad. There were at least five wraiths here, and Frodo had put on the Ring. He scanned the area desperately, looking for something to aid in the fight, and his gaze alighted on the fire the hobbits had built.

A grim smile crossed his features. Running over to the fire, he grabbed a burning brand and shoved it into the closest wraith's face. The foul wraith screamed in pain and fled. Aragorn wasted no time, turning on the other Ringwraiths. There! Three wraiths were gathered around…nothing? Then, as the horrible realization struck Aragorn, the lead wraith plunged his blade downwards, and there was a scream of pain. Frodo suddenly reappeared, a gash in his shoulder, screaming in pain. With a speed and power born of desperation and anger, Aragorn leaped forward and attacked the wraiths, sword in one hand, firebrand in the other. It was an intense battle, made even more terrible by the darkness that the wraiths loved, but Aragorn finally chased the last wraith away. He dropped the brand, chest heaving in exhaustion, and walked over to Frodo.

The diagnosis was grim. Frodo had been stabbed with a Morgul Blade. The tip of the blade had broken, and embedded itself within his body. As Aragorn picked up the hilt of the cursed sword, it dissolved in his hand. Aragorn sighed. He knew that the tip, if left in the hobbit's body, would slowly weaken him until he became as a wraith himself.

Samwise, Frodo's servant looked at him hopefully. "Can't you heal him, Strider?"

Regretfully, he shook his head. "This is beyond my power to heal. He needs Elvish medicine." He picked up Frodo's form easily and slung him over his shoulders. Frodo's eyes were white, and he was mumbling. Aragorn took off at a jog towards the forest, with the hobbits not far behind, holding torches for protection.

Frodo's breathing was getting shallow. "Is he going to die?" Pippin asked anxiously.

Aragorn sighed. "No. He is passing into the shadow world. Soon he will become a wraith just like them."

The distant cry of a ringwraith carried through the air. Merry fidgeted nervously. "They're close."

On top of Aragorn, Frodo gasped in sudden pain. Sam looked at his master worriedly. "Is there anything I can do, Strider?"

Aragorn thought hard. "Sam. You're a gardener. Do you know of the Athelas plant?"

Sam looked blank. "No."

"Kingsfoil!"

"Kingsfoil? That's a weed!"

"Trust me!" Aragorn put Frodo down gently and poked through the bushes, searching desperately for the plant.

Suddenly, a cold blade touched his neck. He tensed. He had been caught off his guard, and now he was going to die. Finally, the stranger spoke, and all the tension suddenly left his body at that beloved voice. "What's this? A Ranger caught off his guard?"

"Arwen!"

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Valinor

Manwe watched as the pieces started to fall into place. As the guardians of Middle Earth, they could not directly interfere. They could only nudge the elements together and hope for the best. Now for the final piece. He turned to Lorien and nodded once. Lorien bowed and closed his eyes, concentrating.

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Central Park, Manhattan.

Percy Jackson walked through the park, picnic basket in one hand, Annabeth's hand in the other. It was a great day. Blue, cloudless skies, sunshine, birds in the air, a slight breeze blowing through the park, and of course the fact that he was with his best friends. The Battle of Manhattan had only happened two weeks ago, and New York was still rebuilding itself. It had been amusing, watching the news and the poor mortals trying to figure out many things, like the freak storms across the country (Typhon), the ever-present goldish dust underfoot (monster dust), how a giant maple tree seemed to have grown in just a few days near the park (Hyperion) and just how the statues of New York seemed to have gone rogue. There were still a few reports of automatons walking around, though Annabeth insisted that they had all been deactivated. Still, Central Park was relatively unspoiled, and Percy was just happy to be able to hang out with his friends like normal teenagers.

A squeeze on his hand brought him back to reality. "What is it Seaweed Brain? You looked like you were a million miles away."

Percy grinned at the girl walking beside him. Gods, Annabeth was beautiful. She obviously wasn't trying to look gorgeous, she simply was. As a daughter of Athena, she didn't believe in wearing makeup or trying to look good like most of the Aphrodite girls, but the truth was she looked like a goddess, and he had seen real goddesses. She was the best girlfriend anyone could wish for, beautiful and smart. Did he mention that she was the official Architect of Olympus? Yeah, Annabeth was awesome.

"Nothing, just marveling at you, Wise Girl." He laughed. "Besides, I'm barely a few inches from you."

Annabeth scowled playfully at him. "Very funny Seaweed Brain."

"You know you love me Wise Girl."

"Unfortunately, I do, Seaweed Brain." She smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

"Get a room, Kelp Face!" hollered a certain Hunter of Artemis walking behind them, causing Nico to snigger.

Percy stuck out his tongue at them. "I didn't ask you to tag along!" He had almost forgotten them. He had initially only asked Annabeth for the picnic, but he had met Corpse Breath and Pinecone Face along the way, and they had decided to invite themselves. Not that he cared, while a chance to be alone with Annabeth would have been nice, he was happy to be with his cousins.

"Yeah well I'm hungry!" that was Nico, son of Hades, powerful demigod, and overall emo teenager. Maybe it was his tendency to wear black, or the long hair, or the skull ring, he just looked emo to most people. Also, as his powers tended to drain him, he needed to eat and rest a lot, which was probably the reason for the statement.

"Ok, ok. Calm down, we'll find a place to sit, and then we'll eat. Ok?" Annabeth glanced at Percy with a raised eyebrow, to which he shrugged in response. Annabeth glared and punched him lightly. "Why do I have to make all the decisions?"

Percy smirked." That's cause you're the Architect of Olympus." To which he received another smack.

Thalia rolled her eyes and whispered to Nico. "It's like their married already." Nico nodded, snickering. Thalia was the daughter of Zeus, a Hunter of Artemis, and a punk girl, as she had a really weird taste in clothes. Her death to Barbie T-shirt attested to that fact. As a Lieutenant of Artemis, she also had a silver tiara on her hair, which according to Percy made her look like a Punk Princess. He had narrowly escaped electrocution for that remark.

After some more walking and a lot of good natured bickering, they found a spot and sat down. Percy took out some cheeseburgers and divided them among the demigods. Suddenly, the wind picked up, and the ground shuddered. Thunder rumbled in the distance and it started raining. Percy rolled his eyes and glanced up at the sky with exasperation. "Really, Zeus? The day we decide to have a picnic together is the day you schedule a rainstorm?" Grumbling, he hurriedly packed the food back to the basket. Together, the four demigods ran to the nearest shelter. They made it just as another bolt of lightning flashed through the sky.

Thalia cocked an eyebrow as more lightning bolts flashed through the sky. "Well, Dad seems kinda pissed."

"My dad too…" agreed Nico just as another rumble shook the ground.

Percy shook his head in frustration. "Whatever it is, they must be arguing really badly. The storms picking up really fast…"

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light that blinded the demigods temporarily. When it cleared, a doorway of light floated in the air. They couldn't see through the other side.

The demigods looked at each other apprehensively. Percy uncapped Riptide and activated his new shield Tyson had made for him. Annabeth drew her bronze knife; her mind was obviously running at a million miles an hour trying to analyze this. The shadows seemed to bend around Nico and form a sword of Stygian Iron. Thalia activated Aegis and her spear. Automatically, they all looked towards Percy, waiting for his call. Percy seemed to hesitate, but then he strode forward and poked Riptide through the door. When nothing happened, he poked his head through.

"Looks safe, guys. There's nothing here but a river by a forest or something.." He announced.

"Be careful, it could be a trap," Cautioned Annabeth.

"No duh". Thalia grunted.

Nico looked unconcerned, taking another bite out of his burger. Percy snorted. That kid certainly had his priorities straight.

"Heroes! Come!" the four demigods jumped as they heard a loud, resonant voice in their heads. "We need your help here."

"Whoa! Time out!" yelled Percy, looking around him. "Which one are you again? And where are you hiding?"

"I am Lorien, Master of Dreams and Visions. I am not with you physically but I can speak through this temporary gateway I have created. Our land is in great peril. We need the help of the heroes."

Percy turned at Annabeth questioningly. She frowned " The Greek God of Dreams is Morpheus. Perhaps this is a..different kind?"

"Percy, I think we should trust him" said Nico. "In my Father's realm, I have often watched souls being judged. I don't detect any hint of deception in his words."

"Percy, Thalia, Nico, Annabeth, we need your help. Please." There was a pause, and then came a different voice. It was the voice of a frail, old man, a voice of desperation. "Help." The voice switched back: "Please make your decision quickly. I do not have the power to hold this doorway between the realms for have five minutes to make your decision. Will you help us?"

Percy looked at his three friends. They all nodded at him resolutely, their decision written clearly on their faces.

"Alright then, let's go."

The four demigods stepped into the door of light and vanished. The door seemed to fold on itself, then it too winked out of existence, just as four desperate Gods appeared on the scene.

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Revamped on 17/3/14

Well? What do you guys think about thus one?

On a side note, im sure that most of you know I'm Malaysian. I'm also pretty sure most of you have heard bit about flight MH370 and its disappearance. Id like to encourage you all to please pray for MH370 and its safe recovery. I'm still hoping that the plane would be found, with the 239 passengers safe and alive.

Anyway, that's about it. Chapter22 will be up as soon as my foster sister and beta clears it. G'night now. I seriously need to sleep.

Pjcrazy signing out