Help From another World

by Scribe of Worlds

Gandalf's plea from Isengard Tower reaches farther than he could ever imagine. Even to four demigods relaxing in a park after the Battle of Manhattan. Naturally, they respond. The Fellowship of the Ring is formed. A grand adventure from the dark of Moria to the beauty of Lorien. Dark paths, epic battles, annoying demigods. Middle Earth will never know what hit it.

14. Westwards and Eastwards

Hey guys! Yes, it's me. I'm back with the next chapter of the story. First off, I want to apologize to all my loyal readers for taking such a long hiatus. After writing that last chapter, I threw myself back into my studies, and I lost my drive to write for quite a while. And while I'm not in any way laying any blame on anybody, I have been kept quite busy beta-ing my best friend Alone on the water's (who I consider a sister) PjatO and Hunger Games crossover. I know this in no way excuses me from being lazy and not updating for so long, and so I apologize.

Anyway, I really need to thank two of my reviewers. Actually, I want to thank all my reviewers for reading and reviewing my story, but these two were the ones who got this chapter posted. As I said, I lost my drive to write for quite some time. One or two paragraphs sat on the computer, untouched. Then I got a new review (which was great. The last chapter seemed unusually quiet in terms of reviews…) from a guest (I don't know who you are, but thanks). It said: Please post the next chapter soon. It's been almost a month, and this is a really amazing story. That jolted me back into action. He reminded me that there were still people waiting. So I got on my computer and started typing away frantically. I almost finished the chapter. I had practically written down the whole thing and it only needed some proofing. Unfortunately, I got lazy again, until Tiarna na Fainne posted a review yesterday. Really good story. I LOVE PERCABETH! Sorry, i'll calm down now, when's the next chapter out? PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE GOING TO UPDATE SOON!.and that gave me a well-needed kick in the behind to proof my chapter and post it ASAP. So yeah, thanks to both of you, or this chapter might have come out a lot later. Reviews are really amazing at making an author happy and guilty all at once. So please review!

That's it for now, Enjoy the story!

And write something in the box at the bottom right of the screen. It does wonders. Truly.

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Nico

Three loud horn blasts sounded. Nico jumped and whipped around, heart in his mouth, before recognizing the sound as Boromir's horn. Nico and Percy paused in their frenzied fighting to glance around wildly at the direction of the sound, but there were too many orcs, too many enemies to be distracted for long. Clang! Nico barely blocked the orc's blow with his shadow-shield. He grunted, and pushed the orc back. He lashed out with his foot, catching the orc unawares, then thrust his Stygian iron sword deep into the orc's stomach, leeching its essence and reducing it into a nothing but a pile of dust. Behind him, Percy sliced off the head of another orc with Riptide, causing it to burst into monster dust. More and more orcs came. Nico had no idea where Thalia and Annabeth had gone. They had become separated sometime during the heat of the fight. He hoped they were safe. Swoosh, Nico ducked just in time to avoid being decapitated by another orc. He hurriedly kicked it in the groin, knocking it back a few paces and buying himself some time, then lunged forward to sink his sword into his unprotected chest. He heard Percy grunt, then two orcs reeled back with deep gashes on their necks before exploding into dust. Both of them held their swords high and their shields at the ready, eyes darting around nervously, waiting for the next wave. None came.

Nico gave a sigh of relief and allowed his shield to dissolve into shadow. He held up his shield arm, wincing at the amount of purple bruises his arm had sustained from blocking all those hammer-like blows. He had never even felt them in the heat of battle, but now they were beginning to sting. He checked his torso for wounds, but his mithril-mail shirt seemed to have protected him from most blows. There weren't even any bruises. Thank the Lady…Beside him, Percy dusted himself off and kept his weapons, panting heavily. Lucky guy never even got a scratch, due to the Curse. Nico reached into his pack and got out his bottle of nectar, taking a swig from it and feeling the cooling sensation run down his arms, the bruises fading into nothing. Great stuff, this. Percy pulled out a pack of ambrosia and tossed a square to him, taking one for himself. They sat together in silence, feeling the godly food restore their strength. Each of them were thinking the same thing, but none were ready to voice it.

"So, death radar. Anyone we know dead?" Percy asked hesitantly.

Nico closed his eyes and concentrated. His abilities had been growing stronger as he matured, and sensing death was one of the easiest ones. He wasn't really proud of this ability, but he had to admit it did come in useful sometimes. He extended his senses, but it was difficult, with so many dead orcs around. There was death everywhere. No way to tell whether the their friends had been among them. He sighed and gave up. "Can't tell. Too much death here to tell."

Percy nodded grimly. They would have to do it the hard way, then. Together, they set out through the forest, swords in their hands in case of meeting stragglers that had survived. Still tensed from the fight, adrenaline still pumping, their senses seemed to have grown sharper, and their nerves were still raw, causing them to jump at the slightest sound. "Where's Annabeth and Thalia?" asked Percy distractedly, his eyes never leaving the trees beside them.

"Don't know. I think Thalia ran in the direction of the horn blasts to help Boromir. Wasn't Annabeth with you?" Nico replied.

Percy's voice was thick with concern and fear. "I don't know. I think we got separated even before the orcs arrived, when we were searching for Frodo and Boromir. Gods, I hope she's okay…"

Nico tried to think of something to reassure him. He couldn't. This comforting business had never been his strong point. He was worried about his cousin too. Thalia had been alone when she ran off. Was she okay? Even the daughter of Zeus might have difficulty fighting of a bunch of orcs alone. In wordless agreement, they increased their pace to the direction where they had last heard Boromir's horn. Quiet, hesitant. Afraid. Somehow, there was more fear now that the battle was over then when they were fighting. Fear that a friend might have not made it. Fear that an orc had got in a lucky shot. Fear.

The first sign that told Nico something was wrong was the quiet. The forest was too quiet. Too quiet. All the birds seemed to have stopped singing. The forest was eerily quiet. They found Legolas on a tree, head in hands, quietly grieving. Gimli sat on the foot of the tree at the fringes of a clearing, hood drawn low over his face, shoulders shaking. Nico's heart felt like it had sank into Tartarus. They had lost someone. Anxiety clawed at his heart. Who? Who had they lost? Thalia? Annabeth? Aragorn? Boromir? Frodo? Merry? Pippin? Sam? He stopped at the edges, trying to muster up the courage to walk in, to see who it was.

Someone gripped his shoulder. Percy. A pained, sorrowful look was in his eyes. Together, they walked slowly into the clearing. Two figures were huddled against a tree on the other end of the clearing. One lay unmoving against the tree, the other was sadly binding the others wounds. Nico's heart leapt when he saw the figures were too large for the hobbits, and they were much too big to be Annabeth or Thalia. Waves of guilt crashed over him for even thinking such a selfish thought. How could he be so selfish?

Percy went on ahead of him to the body. The man who had been tending to the other's wounds stood up, revealing himself to be Aragorn. That meant…Boromir. Nico truly felt regret at the man's passing. True, he hadn't exactly left a good first impression at the Council, but Nico had grown to know the Man during the journey. He was a good man, a noble man, a brave man. Nico had fought alongside him in Moria. If there was an underworld here, he would surely have gone into Elysium, Nico slumped by a stump to grieve quietly. Is there anything I can do for him?

He stood up resolutely, and walked towards the body. Maybe, as he was a child of the dead, he could grant Boromir a peaceful passage to his resting place. Percy and Aragorn parted respectfully for him. He placed a hand onto Boromir's forehead…and everything went black.

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He found himself in a huge, black hall. Nico suddenly had a sense of déjà vu. This palace could be the exact same palace back on earth, in his father's realm. Apparently this was the Middle-Earth version of the underworld. He allowed his gaze to travel to the throne at the end of the hall. There, he saw not one, but two men. The one dressed in black was reclining on the throne, while the one robed in blue stood in front of him, discussing something with him. Nico glanced at Boromir and mouthed the words. What am I doing here?

Boromir didn't respond. It was as if he couldn't see him at all. Must be a vision… Percy gets them all the time, never thought I'd have one, though…Nico allowed his eyes to roam around the hall. It was creepy, how much this place resembled his father's palace. There was a line of spirits. Men, women, children. Elves, dwarves. Soldiers, commoners, workers, nobles…

One of the differences he noticed was the rich and colorful tapestries all adorning the walls. Curious, he walked towards the wall to examine them. The tapestries seemed to depict many wondrous and strange scenes, all painstakingly embroidered and woven with rich colors and amazing detail. (Woven by Mandos' wife, Vairë, the weaver. Seen in The Silmarillion and the complete guide to Middle Earth. Much less creepy than Arachne, no?) Nico saw what looked like a powerful being singing the earth into existence. (Eru Iluvatar, creator of Middle Earth, as seen in The Silmarillion) (I know this might be a bit hard for people who have only seen the movies or read the three books. I couldn't resist popping in these references to make the story more authentic. But for you people who read everything Tolkien, I hope you these little references :))He saw the creation of the elves, the arrival of men, dwarves and all the other races. He saw dragons flying in the sky, epic wars being fought, rings being forged. And to his great shock, he saw one of the more recent tapestries. The tapestry depicted a river. Four figures stood in the river, one with arms upraised. The waters of the river were in the form of two hands, smashing into the black shapes of the Ringwraiths while a figure on horseback escaped to the other end of the river. Another tapestry, which was composed almost entirely of black and dark red threads, portrayed Gandalf facing the Balrog at the bridge of Khazad-Dum. Nico stepped back in shock. How…how... he realized it then. These tapestries were woven about the history of Middle Earth… all the history… woven into tapestries in the Hall of Waiting… Briefly, Nico considered asking his father to redecorate his palace. It would be much less gloomier…

The two men seemed to have come to a decision. The one dressed in black stood up straight. Again, Nico could almost imagine it was Hades standing there instead of…this guy. The man's eyes travelled to Boromir. "Boromir, brother of Faramir, son to Denethor and Finduilas. I am Mandos, judge of the dead, master of the dooms. Welcome to the Halls of Waiting."

Boromir bowed low respectfully.

Mandos studied Boromir as if he was something he had seen only rarely.. "Boromir… Man of Gondor. You are…special. You have received wounds that would have killed mortal men, yet you are not dead."

Boromir looked shocked. He took a deep breath and looked at Mandos. "My Lord…?"

Mandos sighed. "Your Númenórean (a race of men who possessed unusually long life and a hardy constitution. They were especially close to the elves, more so than any other race. If you want their complete history, go pick up a Tolkien book) ancestry is strong in you… A thread still connects you to your mortal life. You maintain a tenacious hold on it. On this rare occasion, I have convened with Manwe, and my brethren Lorien and Nienna. I now grant you a choice, Númenórean. "

Boromir looked up, hardly daring to hope. Mandos looked at him, face still impassive. "You are not dead, Boromir, yet your spirit has found its way into my halls. You now have a choice, whether to continue into the Great Halls of Iluvatar,"- Mandos gestured behind him to a huge set of double doors, where strains of sounds of merriment and joy could be heard-" and so truly die a death of heroes, or… You may return back to your mortal life to continue in your quest. If you choose to return, you will have to face pain, sorrow and despair, yet you may see your task, your mission completed."

Nico couldn't say he was surprised by Boromir's decision, yet he couldnt help feeling a surge of pride.

Mandos clapped his hands twice. "Very well, Boromir, Man of Gondor. Your choice shall be honored. You are a brave man indeed, and I would not wish to see you back in my halls again too soon." a small smile broke his normally grim face.

Boromir turned and looked back at the twisting dark tunnels that lead to the realm. "Lord Mandos, which is the way out?"

Mandos smile grew slightly wider. He gestured to the corner of the room where Nico was standing and trying not to be seen. "I believe your guide is here."

Nico's eye widened, and turned too to look at the entrances. But then he noticed a path shining brighter than the others. Of course! He was a Son of Hades. It made sense that he had some form of power in this underworld too. He smiled slightly. "Come on. Don't fall behind."

The passageway back to the world of the living was long and dark. There were so many different passageways branching out of each passageway, and from each passageway came yet more new arrivals to the Hall of the Dead. Yet, Nico knew exactly which paths to take, and slowly but surely, the passageways started slanting upwards. Boromir followed behind looking slightly disconcerted at the new arrivals. Perhaps he hadn't taken a look at himself yet. He tried to move out of the way of a spirit, and looked like he was going to be sick when it passed straight through him. The spirits seemed to sense him, though, and wisely gave him a wide berth.

Finally, they were at the end of the tunnel, and he knew it was cliche, but he could really see light at the other end. Boromir put his hand on his shoulder. "Nico, thank you for coming. I owe you my life."

Nico chuckled slightly. "Don't mention it. Seriously."

Boromir stepped past him and vanished at the other end of the tunnel. There was a sudden jerk in his gut, and everything went black.

"He's breathing!"

"What the HADES?!"

"Thanks be to Eru!"

Nico's eyes snapped open. He was lying on a comfortable pile of grass and dry leaves,(sopping wet. Apparently someone had tried to wake him up) a short distance away from where the rest of the Fellowship were gawping at Boromir's body, which had apparently decided to reboot his heart and restart breathing again. Boromir groaned and clutched his head. Nico smiled slightly, satisfied.

Unfortunately, their joy was only to be temporary.

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"Annabeth! Annabeth!" Percy's cry of anguish echoed across the river.

Nico had never seen Percy look so heartbroken or distraught. The waters of the river churned agitatedly, responding to the son of Poseidon's mood, and the sky darkened. It was a tragedy, Nico thought, to suffer such heart-wrenching loss right after such a joyful event. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had been taken by surprise by this new side of the normally cheerful demigod, and had retreated to a side to give him some privacy. They huddled at the fringes of the forest, packing their supplies and debating weather to go after Frodo or to go to Gondor. Boromir had been very quiet ever since he had returned from the Halls of Waiting, and he hadn't even said anything about going west. Sometimes Nico wondered if something had changed down in the cold, forbidding Halls of Mandos. Boromir certainly had changed. Nico only hoped it was for the better.

Percy stood at the very edge of the river, staring out in the direction of Mordor, still as a statue. Unmoving, silent. For a moment, Nico found himself comparing Percy to the two towering statues above them. Then Percy's legs seemed to give out, and he slumped by a rock. He opened his clenched palm, revealing a crumpled piece of notebook paper. Percy tenderly straightened it, reading and rereading the message written in what Nico recognized as Annabeth's neat Greek. He spotted several tear stains on the paper, both dried and fresh. It seemed that Percy had not been the only heartbroken one…

Nico sighed. This was terrible. The fellowship had truly been broken. Thalia, Merry and Pippin had been captured by orcs, and Annabeth, Sam and Frodo had set off on their own to Mordor. It was just so messed up. Everything was going wrong. What were they going to do? What was Aragorn going to decide? They couldn't stay in here forever. This was horrible. He felt torn in two. On one hand, his friends, the hobbits, and Thalia were captured, and going west. On the other hand, the Ringbearer, whom they had all sworn to protect, had gone east, with Sam and Annabeth. Where should they go? What should they do?

Aragorn stood up. Boromir, too tried to stand, but Legolas held him back. He may be alive, but his wounds were still affecting him. The arrows had hit hard and deep, and though Aragorn had tried his best, Boromirs' body still ached. Aragorn had promised that it would heal, but it would take time, and Boromir could possibly regain only part of three-quarters of his former strength. Hesitantly, Aragorn walked over to Percy and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Percy… we have decided to go West to save Thalia, Merry and Pippin. The ring is beyond our reach now. Would you…join us?"

Percy didn't look up. He simply nodded once. Aragorn nodded towards the remaining Fellowship, and they all stood up. Boromir winced a bit as he put his weight upon his legs, but he gave no other sign of pain or exertion. Nico stood and walked over to Percy, awkwardly putting his hand on the older demigod. "She'll be fine. You'll see her again after this thing is over."

Percy sighed and shouldered his pack. "Enough talking. Let's go." He averted his eyes from the rest of the team, and walked straight ahead. Aragorn's concerned gaze followed him, then he finally motioned to the rest of the Fellowship. "Let's go hunt some orc"

Nico allowed himself a grim smile of expectation and summoned his sword to his hands. He picked up his pack, along with the rest of the Fellowship. Together, they set off West, following the footprints of the orcs. Nico glanced back, where he saw Percy straggling behind. His face was wet. He gripped Percy's hand. Percy wiped a hand across his face, and put on a brave face. He cast one last glance backwards, and ran to the front of the company, beside Aragorn. Nico fell in beside Gimli and Boromir. They were off. They had friends to rescue.

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Merry

Merry lay in a dark and troubled dream. All around him the shadows of the Black Riders rode. Every dark and evil thing he had met on this journey seemed to have come to torment him. The Black Riders from Weathertop shrieked and drew their black blades. The Watcher in the Water lashed out with a deadly web of tentacles. The orcs of Moria taking them down to the dungeon, The Balrog grinned and cracked its whip. Hundreds of orc faces grinned at him from the shadows, hundreds of hideous arms grasped out at him from every side. What was happening?

He woke. Cold air blew on his face. He was lying oh his back. Evening was coming and the sky above was growing dim. He turned and found that the dream was little worse than the waking. His wrists, legs and ankles were tied with cords, beside him Pippin lay, white faced, with a dirty rag bound across his brows, and to his other side lay Thalia, furiously struggling with her ropes, eyes blazing with defiance. All about them sat or stood a great company of orcs.

Slowly in Merry's aching head, memory pieced itself together and became separated from dream shadows. Of course; he and Pippin had tried to lure the orcs away from Frodo. the plan had worked too well, bringing a whole contingent of orcs on them. He remembered managing to score some of them with his elven blade, which made them retreat, hissing with anger as if they had been burned by the mere touch of the steel. But there had been too many for two hobbits to fight, they gave the fight up as for lost.

Then Boromir had come leaping through the trees. He had made them fight hard. He slew dozens of them, but he had only a sword, and there was a huge orc with a bow, raining arrows on Boromir. Boromir blew his great horn until the woods rang, and at first the orcs had been dismayed and drawn back; but when no answer but the echoes came, they had attacked more fiercely than ever. Merry couldn't remember much more. His last memories were of Boromir still fighting with three arrows embedded in him, then finally collapsing against a tree. He remembered Thalia running through the forest, firing silver arrows of her own and calling down great flashes of lightning, but finally being overpowered and bound. He remembered Pippin and his last desperate charge, waving their knives wildly, and slaying one or two orcs each; then darkness fell suddenly.

Where are we? Where are we going? Will Strider and the Company come after us? Wouldn't that mess up all the plans? Oh, I wish could get free!

The orcs conversed among themselves, somehow managing to mangle the common speech so much it now sounded like their own foul, guttural speech. The situation was made all the more dark , as it was a dark, moonless night. Merry could only see the bare outlines of the orcs, and hearing those guttural words made his hair stand up on end and curled his blood. Suddenly, at a command from one of the biggest orcs, they rose, pulling Merry's tired body up with the other prisoners, and forced to run.

Crack!

"March faster, yer good fer nuthin prisoners!" Snarled the orc leader, cracking his whip for good measure. When Merry didn't speed up enough to please him, there was another sharp crack and a line of pain shot up his ankles. He stifled a yelp of pain and tried to will his tired, sore feet to move faster. He was tired, he was so tired. They had been marching at a relentless pace for almost a day now, without any stops. His feet ached, and his head throbbed with all the confusion. Evil dreams and evil waking were blended into a long tunnel of misery, with hope growing ever fainter behind. They ran, and they ran, striving to keep up the pace set by the orcs, licked every now and again with a cruel thong cunningly handled, if they halted or stumbled, they were seized roughly and dragged for a distance. He couldn't hear anything except for the rhythmic tramping of orc feet. Everything was a blur of harsh yells and tramping feet in the dark.. He could only continue putting a foot in front of the other. Again, again and again. It was a total nightmare. He staggered along, pulled by Thalia, who was grimly trudging on ahead, in his turn pulling Pippin, who was almost half-passed out from everything. They were helpless. He had been disarmed immediately after his capture, the orc cursing and dropping the blade as soon as he had picked them up. And even if he still had his weapons, even if by some amazing chance, they had an opportunity to escape, Merry doubted he could make it. not in this state. Tired, hungry and despairing. He was helpless. It seemed the only one of them who still retained hope was Thalia. There was still fire in her eyes, but would that be enough? They were helpless. Helpless in the hands of the orcs.

His foot tripped over a rock, causing him to stumble a bit. His shoulders were grabbed and pushed forward roughly, nearly knocking Thalia over. Suddenly, a bright golden gleam shone in the corners of his eyes. Hopefully, he turned his head to the source. Far out on the horizon, beyond the dark, dreary plains, a bright sliver of sunlight pierced the darkness. A tiny seed of hope took root in his heart. Maybe now that they could actually see where they were going, they might be able to leave some sort of clue for the Fellowship when they came to rescue them! If they came at all. Some of the orcs grumbled and cursed when they saw the sun rising, squinting at the bright daylight. Now that there was more light to see by, he saw that the orcs actually looked very different from each other. Half of the orcs were like the ones he had fought in Moria. Big, ugly, stinky brutes. Their shields were emblazoned with a single fiery eye. The other half looked bigger, stronger too. These orcs didn't seem to fear the daylight. They had a mark on their foreheads like a white hand had grabbed them and branded them. Their shields carried the design of a white hand. As he watched, the leaders of both groups started to argue heatedly with each other.

"Stop!" The orc leading the tribe with the design of the fiery eye yelled.

Merry was dimly aware of voices clamoring. Most of the orcs were demanding a halt now. The leader of the tribe of the white hand, a large black orc, was yelling angrily. "What's the meaning of this now, you lazy northern rats?"

The leader of the other tribe, a short, crooked-legged creature, with arms that hung almost to the ground strode over. "Now see here, Ugluk. Its daylight now. Orcs don't run in the sunlight. I, Grishnakh, say this. Saruman is a fool, and the Great Eye is on him.'

Ugluk stepped closer to him and growled. "You'll run with me behind you, all right. We must stick with each other, even though I don't trust you little swine one bit." He spat. "This is Horse-Country. This land is dangerous, and you have no guts. We are the fighting Uruk-Hai! We are the servants of Saruman the Wise, the White Hand; the Hand that gives us man-flesh to eat. We came out of Isengard, and led you here, and we shall lead you back the way I choose." He snarled at Grishnakh. Merry watched the conflict, half afraid, half hopeful that they were arguing so much. He had heard orcs were of a particularly bad temperament, and rival tribes often killed each other in their arguments. Maybe this could work in their favor…

Grishnakh spat. "Is Saruman the master or the Great Eye? We are going North to Lugburz. One of the Nazgul awaits us there."

Ugluk stepped forward until he was literally staring Grishnakh in the face. Some of the smaller orcs approached Ugluk, knives and swords drawn, but they hesitated to attack the larger orc. Merry supposed they must be the Northern orcs, the orcs of Mordor. Ugluk barked a harsh command, and without warning, two Uruk Hai his size ran up, and with two swift strokes beheaded two of the northern orcs. There was a huge commotion and scuffle, in which the guards too ran to join the fray. Thalia instantly rolled up to Merry and started sawing his bonds with her knife. Evidently, she had been working on her bonds the whole journey, and had managed to reach her knife while the orcs had been arguing. After she had successfully sawed through his bonds, Merry snatched up the knife and cut her ropes too.

"Now stay quiet. I'm going to tie you up again in a slipknot so the orcs won't notice. It'll be ok. One quick tug and the knot will fall apart. Is that clear?" Thalia whispered urgently in his ear. Merry nodded vigorously, then watched as Thalia went over to Pippin.

Unfortunately, Thalia didn't get the chance to untie Pippin, as the orcs seemed to have resolved their quarrel. The Isengarders had slain nearly five of the Mordor orcs, forcing Grishnakh to submit. Thalia barely managed to loop the cords around her wrists to give the impression of still being bound before they were grabbed and made to stand. Hot, burning orc liquor was forced down their throats, replicating on a small scale what lembas could do to a weary traveler and lending them temporary bursts of strength. Ugluk sounded a blast on his horn, and the orcs started running again. Suddenly, Pippin broke free from the troop and stumbled a short distance away. Two orcs immediately went after him and dragged him back, giving him vicious slaps and kicks in punishment. But when he was pushed behind Merry again, Merry noticed that the elven clasp that the elves had given him was gone. When Merry was able to risk a short glance back, something glinted in the mud.

Once during the running, Ugluk had glanced back, sniffing the air. His lip curled in disgust. "Man flesh. There are men and elves following us." He cracked his whip harder. "Faster! You lazy rats! Run as if the Nazgul themselves are after you!" The orcs stepped up their pace, the threat hanging over their heads. Merry hadn't thought it possible to run any faster, but he was forced to when a whip thong curled around his thigh, biting into his skin. He gave a yelp and ran faster. Any joy he may had had upon hearing that men were near was extinguished by the new pace.

The next night, Merry and Pippin collapsed in an exhausted heap on the floor at the very edge of a huge, dense forest. they were weary to the core. The orc liquor had long since wore off, and Merry could only remember the relentless pounding of feet on the ground, over vast distances, too far to count. His legs ached. Everything hurt. He had never done as much running before in his entire life! He lay crumpled on the hard floor beside Pippin as the orcs rested for a few hours from the strenuous day's running. Thalia managed to sneak a square of that goldish stuff that only demigods were able to eat while the orcs weren't looking, and looked better already. She crawled over to Merry and snuck a bit of lembas into his palm and Pippin's, giving them both an encouraging smile. "Don't worry. We'll make it out of here. Eat this, and be ready to run."

The orcs seemed to be having an argument again. This time, the subject was on food.

"I'm starvin! We aint 'ad nuthin but maggoty bread fer three stinkin' days!" yelled one of the orcs.

"Yeah, why can't we have some meat?" asked another rat-like orc. His eyes alighted on Merry hungrily. "What about them? They're fresh!" Merry gulped, and he heard Pippin whimper in fear. Were they going to be eaten?

Ugluk glared at them. "They're not for eating. Masters orders."

Grishnakh spoke up. "What about their legs? They don't need those! Ooh, they look tasty!"

Ugluk shoved him back, hard. "Get back, scum!"

The other orcs seemed to be getting restless. There was a lot of muttering in their foul tongues and blades were unsheathed. "Carve them up!" yelled one of the Mordor orcs.

The rat-like one moved towards Pippin slowly, reaching out with his blade drawn. "just a mouthful…" he said, saliva dripping from his mouth. Thalia gripped Pippin and Merry's hands tightly and shoved them behind her. Merry saw the knife hidden in Thalia's hands. Thalia tensed, ready to jerk the knot free and defend the hobbits. Merry was terrified.

Thalia whispered."When I give the signal, run for the forest and climb a tree as fast as you can. Any tree."

But before any of them could do anything, Ugluk drew his blade and lopped of the other orc's head. the head rolled towards the rest of the orcs as the body crumpled to the floor. Ugluk gave a nasty grin. "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!"

The rest of the orcs instantly flew to the dead body and began ripping at it with gusto, apparently not caring that the orc had been one of them. Bloody bits and pieces flew in the air. For now, the prisoners had been forgotten. Merry took the opportunity to take Thalia's knife and slice through Pippin's ropes. The two terrified hobbits clutched at each other, hoping just to be able to survive. Thalia bent over and whispered to them. "Go now. Quietly, while they're distracted."

Unfortunately, one of the orcs, who had apparently been unable to get a bite of the dead orc spotted them sneaking away, and gave a loud yell. "The prisoners!"

No one took any notice, except for one. Grishnakh perked up at once and ran towards them, shoving the orc aside. His blade glinted in moonlight. Before Merry or Pippin could do anything more than squeal in terror, he pounced on them, knocking Merry facedown into the ground and brandishing his wickedly-curved blade in Pippin's face, "Go on, call for help! Squeal! No one can save you now!"

Merry couldn't see anything. His face was right in the ground, among the gravel. His heartbeat pounded as fast as a rabbit's. A heavy, rough knee was planted on his back. Pippin was screaming in terror. Grishnakh was cackling madly, obviously enjoying the hobbits' terror. Blind and unable to do anything more that scream in terror, Merry did just that.

He screamed.

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

Frodo

Frodo surveyed the bleak landscape in front of him and sighed. Around them, sheer, rock cliffs rose high. Treacherous fissures pockmarked the ground. Broken highlands stretched for miles. Emyn Muil seemed like a never ending series of tall, unscalable cliffs and deep valleys. There seemed to be no way across those mountains that blocked the entrance into Mordor.. As the small company continued walking, they gathered their elven cloaks around them to shield them from unfriendly eyes. the whole atmosphere was one of fear and foreboding. His hand often rested on the hilt of his sword Sting sheathed by his belt. His eyes repeatedly jumped from the dreary brown landscape to the blade, dreading the faint blue glow that would signify danger and doom. They had already come across a small party of orcs running west, perhaps to join the other orcs at Amon Hen. Annabeth, Sam and himself had been warned by Sting's blue glow, and managed to duck behind some tall rocks, their cloaks shielding them from view. It had been a rattling experience for the hobbits, but Annabeth took it in stride, as if she had gone through something like this before. He was tired. Almost of its own will, his hand crept up to his neck where it dangled from a chain. With a strong mental effort, he forced the stray hand to remain still. It was steadily getting harder each day as every day, they walked closer to Mordor. Every step took them one step closer to their salvation…or their doom

Behind him, Sam plodded along slowly, also on high alert. Frodo was glad, oh so glad, that his best friend had come along, but he also berated himself repeatedly for being so selfish. How could he drag his loyal friend to his possible death and doom? He shook his head to clear those unwelcome thoughts. The decision had been made now. Anyway, there was no turning back, even if he had wanted to.

Strangely, even though they seemed to have been walking for hours, Frodo noticed that the rocky formations around them never seemed to change. They didn't seem to be making any progress at all. After an hour or two of trekking, Annabeth called a halt, and they sank down to the rock floor, thankful for a rest. Sam surveyed all the rocks, boulders and broken hills around them, munching on a cake of the elven bread lembas. "Well… this looks strangely familiar…"

Annabeth gave a laugh that was both exasperated and amused. "That's because we've been here before. Look." She pointed to a cleft in the hills, where there was an α cut into the rock with rough scratches. "We've been going around in circles."

Frodo managed a small chuckle. "Let's face it. We're lost."

Sam nodded regretfully, then gazed across the broken highlands, where in the far distance, at the edge of the oncoming night, a dark line hung, like distant mountains of motionless smoke. Every now and again a tiny red gleam far away flickered upwards on the rim of earth and sky. Frodo felt a deep sense of foreboding as he gazed upon that black peak. Sam took a bite of the lembas, chewed, and swallowed. "It's ironic, isn't it?"

Annabeth raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "What is?"

Sam gave a short laugh. "All my life, I've dreamed of going out of the Shire and exploring new lands. I would look at a map of Middle Earth and wonder what lies in those cities on the map. Now…" He gazed at the mountains in the distance again. "The one place in Middle Earth I don't want to see any closer, is just the one place we're trying to get to."

Annabeth nodded thoughtfully. Frodo finished his cake and brushed the crumbs off his tunic. "What food have we got left?" He asked Sam.

Sam rummaged through their packs. "Let's see." He came up with another package of lembas. "Oh, lovely, lembas bread." He dug deeper into the pack. "And look! More lembas bread." He produced another package and sighed.

Annabeth chuckled and dug around in her own backpack. "I've got my laptop, those books, some jars of Greek Fire, a packet of ambrosia, a couple jars of nectar, lots of odds and ends, and… oh joy! more lembas bread."They all shared a tired laugh at that. Annabeth then repacked her bag and stood up. "Well, we'd best be on our way. I've been studying the landscape, and I think I have figured out a new route."

And so they had continued trekking through the hills. Once or twice, they had to use Sam's elven rope, which was surprisingly long (almost thirty ells!) and light considering how small the coil had seemed to be at first glance, to scrabble their way down treacherous slopes or climb a couple cliffs. Frodo almost broke his neck twice sliding down those sheer slopes. The rope had another amazing magical property, in which it would hold even the weight of two hobbits and one girl without breaking or coming free, but it would unknot itself from whatever it had been attached to whenever Sam tugged gently on the rope. That allowed the rope to be reused multiple times instead of being left hanging from the top of a cliff.

Slowly but steadily, they began making progress Eastwards. Somewhere during the journey, Frodo began to get the feeling of being followed. No, it wasn't because Sam was behind him. it was something else, an unknown presence. Frodo shuddered. The closer they got to Mordor, the more creatures of the night there would be. A hiss startled him. He turned around with a yelp, whipping out Sting in an instant, but there was only Sam behind him, who abruptly jumped and started backwards, seeing the knife pointed at him. Frodo's heartbeat seemed to have skyrocketed. What was that? He gripped Sting in his hand. In an instant, Annabeth appeared next to him, her knife out too. "What is it?"

Frodo eyed the cliffs surrounding them, noting the huge number of potential hiding places for enemies. He observed Sting's blade again, but the blade was still it's normal, shimmering silver. "Something startled me, but I don't see anything. It may have been just my nerves." He whispered to Annabeth. somehow, none of them were comfortable in speaking in anything louder than a whisper here.

Frodo's sharp ears caught another sound. The sound of a foot striking a rock, and a muffled curse that followed. Instantly, he whirled backwards, frantically searching for the source of the sound. Sam similarly drew his knife and stood guard. Someone was following them, Frodo was certain of it. It wasn't an orc, as his blade wasn't glowing, but then again, not all the servants and chattels of Mordor were orcs.

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

As the day wore on, Frodo's nerves were on high alert. The leather grip of Sting felt like it had been permanently attached to his hands. Every scrape, every little noise caused him to jump. When night fell and it was time to sleep, he couldn't. How could he sleep in a place like this? And he was now very sure that they were being followed. Not by one creature, but by two, maybe more. All day long, whenever they turned a corner, he would glance sharply back, and once or twice, he had caught sight of something ducking into the shelter of a nearby rock. Annabeth had obviously seen it too, by the way her expression had tightened and turned grim. She had led them on another twisting, roundabout route in an effort to lose the shadowy followers, and while it had been extremely tiring, it seemed to have worked for a while. At least, Frodo and Sam had not seen or met anything unfriendly yet. There had been a few encounters with some stray orcs, but where they had not been able to conceal themselves in time, they orcs had been quickly and efficiently dispatched by Sting and Annabeth's dagger. Sam's saucepan had also proved surprisingly handy in knocking out the unsuspecting orcs. It had been an extremely trying day, both physically and mentally.

Now, Frodo and Annabeth huddled around the flickering light of the small fire Sam had built. Sam was snoring peacefully in his bedroll, finding solace from the fears and anxieties of the day in sleep, if only for a little while. The fire was a risk, to be sure. Nothing draws enemies better than a spire of smoke rising in the air, but Frodo and Annabeth had agreed that they needed the warmth. Besides, if the thing following them was a wild beast or something like that, the fire may even serve to scare it away. Annabeth and Sam together had managed to find the driest pieces of wood around, and Sam had coaxed a small flame using his tinderbox. It was comforting to see the firelight flicker over their small campsite, just like the fire back in Bag End, like the many places they had camped in on their long journey when the Fellowship had still been together. Happier times.

"Though…through…the journey…I may…lie…" Frodo looked up. Annabeth was holding a book in her hand, the other hand writing the translation on a piece of parchment. Frodo chuckled a bit to see Annabeth poring over the elvish runes in the book from the elves. Was now really the time? He walked over to her side, smiling, and looked at the poem she was painstakingly deciphering.

"Oh! I know this one!" Frodo smiled. "Bilbo translated this one for me a few months ago, in the house of Elrond. He told me it was a nice verse in these dark times, and I agreed. I had already committed it to memory." his smile turned wistful. "Oh, how I wish I could see him again…"

Annabeth looked at him expectantly. "Well? Read it out! I want to hear how it goes!"

Frodo closed his eyes, bringing the verse back to the front of his mind, and recited. "

Though through the journey I may lie

In darkness buried deep,

Beyond all towers strong and high,

Beyond all mountains steep,

Above all shadows rides the Sun,

And Stars forever dwell,

I will not say the Day is done,

Or bid the Stars farewell.,

Annabeth closed her eyes and sighed happily. "That's a beautiful poem. The elves are really master poets. A certain god of poetry could learn from them." Frodo raised an eyebrow at her, but she just laughed it off.

Frodo looked over the horizon, to that lone mountain again. This time, he looked above the mountain, and he saw the stars shining in the night sky, twinkling as brilliantly as they had done ever since Eru Iluvatar had placed them in the sky, and he smiled. "'Above all shadows rides the sun, and stars forever dwell. I will not say the day is done, or bid the stars farewell.'" He turned back to Annabeth. "Thank you for reminding me of that poem, Annabeth. I needed that."

Annabeth laughed. "The pleasure was all mine." She suddenly let out a huge yawn. "Oh, I suddenly feel so tired." She let out a tired laugh.

Frodo unsheathed Sting. "Why don't you rest now. I'll take first watch."

Annabeth yawned again, and nodded gratefully, too tired to argue. "Thanks, Frodo. wake me if there's any trouble. I'm a light sleeper, unlike Seaweed Brain." Her gaze turned sad for a while, then she sighed and got into her bedroll. "Goodnight, Frodo."

"Goodnight, Annabeth."

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o

Hours passed. All was quiet. The moon rose in the sky, casting a pale white glow and turning everything silver and white. The sleeping forms of Sam and Annabeth rose and fell with their breathing. All was calm. The moon shone clear in the sky, the stars glittered and twinkled in the huge black expanse. But it soon went behind a cloud, and all was dark again. A movement, a sound. Pebbles and loose rocks rattled as something moved towards him. Suddenly, Frodo gasped with fear, and his throat went dry. Sting was out in an instant as he scrabbled backwards frantically. The creature had found them. Two green, lamplight eyes shone out of the darkness, filled with murderous intent. Long, thin, bony arms stretched out towards him.

"Die, Bagginses!Kill the nasssty thief!"

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

Cue epic Lord of the Rings music as the credits scroll up. Nah, just kidding. :P

I hope you enjoyed that!

Anyway, some really epic news. My family is going on a visit to the UK! We are going to tour Cambridge, London and a bunch of other places in the month of October. I am sooooo excited! I wonder if I would meet any of my readers in the UK there… that would certainly be an interesting experience. I am very much looking forward to it. Give a shout if you're from England!

Until next time. I would love to promise that I wouldn't take this long to update next time, but I'm afraid of breaking it, so I'll just promise to update 'soon'. Don't worry. It won't be a month this time.

Remember to review! Thanks again to all those who have reviewed, and those who will review!

PJcrazy signing out.