Well… this is awkward. (Hides face in embarrasment) (Sigh) where do I begin?

Ok, let's start with an apology. I'm sorry, guys, real sorry. I know, I'm a lazy idiot and this chapter is long overdue. This is partly because of my trip to England. Such a beautiful country, y'know? Lots of places to see, things to do. I loved the place. I visited tons of famous landmarks I've only ever read about. Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Cambridge, Hyde Park… I even went to a Bonfire party on November the 5th. While all that sightseeing was awesome, it left me very little time to type. Yeah, I know, should have factored that in. And my international sister, Alone on the Water has gone off on a new tangent on her crossover story, and she has pulled me in too. So anyway, I promised in the last chapter it wouldn't take a month this time, and yet it did. So yeah, sorry. (hangs head)

Anyway, all those wonderful reviews coming in made me feel sooo guilty at leaving you guys hanging, so when I got home last week, I've been working almost frantically on my chapter. So yeah, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I know it doesn't make up for a months' absence, but it's a start, right?

Please enjoy the chapter, and pretty please leave a review. That always makes me happy and encourages me. Here we go…Please Enjoy!

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They must have run for two days. Running, running. Stopping only to sleep, and then only for a few hours. Eating only lembas. Running. Gimli was thoroughly exhausted. Dwarves were wasted on cross country. They were sprinters! Marathons had always escaped them. Gimli panted as he hurried through the grassy plain, not wanting to be left behind by the others, who had far longer legs. Even Nico, the youngest of the group, had legs nearly twice as long as his! How was he supposed to catch up?! . Everyone was tired. Even Legolas, who possessed endurance far beyond normal men, was panting lightly. Suddenly, without warning, Aragorn stopped running and knelt to the ground, scrabbling in the long grass. Evidently he had caught side of something. Gimli huffed and panted, grateful for the pause, trying to catch his breath, while wondering what Aragorn had seen. In Aragorn's hand was a shining clasp in the shape of a delicately curved leaf.

They continued running in silence. Aragorn was just naturally quiet, Legolas was too busy scanning the horizon with his elf eyes to speak, Boromir had been very silent ever since his near-death experience. Percy and Nico, at all times and places usually the loudest of the group, were very subdued, for obvious reasons. Gimli? He was too busy puffing and panting to get a word out, even if he had wanted to.

There seemed to be a renewed hope in the group, though, now that they had found signs that the hobbits were still alive. Percy actually seemed a bit more alive, now he had something else to focus on instead of constantly reliving the same dreadful moment over and over again. The empty, hollow look that had been in his eyes had been replaced with a steely glance of iron determination. Gimli respected that look. It was the look his father Gloin had often seen and described in Thorin Oakenshield when he had led the thirteen dwarves and one hobbit to the Lonely Mountain. They had recovered Erebor and caused the town of Dale to be rebuilt. It spoke of a determination to finish the task at all costs. It inspired Gimli, and he could tell Nico looked up to and drew strength from the older demigod himself.

After about another three hours of running, Aragorn called for a short rest. The company stopped running thankfully and sank to the ground. As always, Aragorn checked the ground using his 'ranger senses' (as Percy and Nico had dubbed it a few weeks ago) again to make sure they were on the right track. Gimli watched curiously as Aragorn put his ear to the ground, then take up a handful of dirt and smelt it. As they rested, Gimli noticed Boromir gritting his teeth and massaging his leg. Gimli absentmindedly registered that it was the leg that had been shot, but he was too preoccupied to take much notice of it. Percy and Nico stopped running and slumped down, panting with exhaustion.

"Man, I thought I was in shape back at Camp," Nico gasped, taking a long swig from his waterskin, after he had finished panting like a dehydrated dog.

Percy laughed weakly. "Me too. You'd think years of dodging monsters and deadline quests would have helped."

"That's because you were always either riding or taking some form of 'earth transportation', I suppose. I don't think any of you have run a full day in your life!" sniped Legolas, chuckling.

"Not all of us are tireless, airy elves. Leggy!" shot back Nico.

Gimli and Aragorn shared a quiet chuckle at Legolas' spluttering and outraged expression.

"Hey Aragorn, how are you not tired? You're making us humans look bad." Percy complained.

Boromir grinned. "At least none of us are huffing as much as friend Gimli over there."

Gimli glared. "Hey!"

A small smile tugged at Aragorn's mouth. "I am a descendant of the Kings, Percy. I have… inherited some traits from the Numenoreans of old."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nico rolled his eyes.

Boromir broke out laughing at Aragorn's irritated face. "The Numenoreans were a race of men with increased endurance, strength and lifespan. You might say they were the closest race to elves there was." He explained.

"Cough*cheat*cough" came from Percy's direction. Gimli had to suppress a snigger. Boromir covered his face, but his chest heaved with suppressed laughter. Percy and Nico had no such reservations and broke out laughing.

Aragorn rolled his eyes and tossed them each a cake of lembas. "Eat up. The orcs are only half a day ahead of us now. We can eat as we walk, if we make as much progress as we did yesterday, we may catch up with them early tomorrow."

Gimli immediately started wolfing down the sweet elf-bread as fast as he could. The special bread gave each traveler a rush of energy. The bread was amazing. Gimli had only eaten a cake yesterday afternoon, and had been able to run for miles. It was certainly a far cry from the dry, crumbly cram made by the dwarves.

The company took off at a jog. Boromir glanced worriedly in the direction Aragorn was heading. "Aragorn, the path you are pointing to leads straight to Fangorn forest. Are you certain that was the path the orcs took? Nobody in their right minds would want to go willingly into that cursed forest."

Aragorn grimaced. "I know of the tales, Boromir, but that is the way the orcs took, and that is the way we have to go. Isengard lies next to the forest, and I reckon that is where the orcs are taking them."

Legolas nodded. "So… they're taking the hobbits to Isengard."

Nico stirred, as if the name had rung a bell. "Isengard. Isn't that where that guy lives? Saman something-or-other. That wizard that Gandalf told us about?"

Legolas cracked a rare grin. "Yes. Saruman the White, at least, that was the name he used, has taken residence in Isengard, inside the tower Orthanc. In Sindarin, the name means Mount Fang, on account of the four spires at the top. In Rohirric the name means 'Cunning Mind'. Tis a strange coincidence, is it not?"

Percy broke in. "Hang on, what's this about a cursed forest? I don't like cursed places. I once went in a cursed junkyard once and…" he flinched. Gimli noted that Nico did as well. "Sorry Nico. I wasn't thinking." Percy apologized. Nico sighed and waved it off. Gimli shared a questioning look with Aragorn, Legolas and Boromir, but Aragorn shook his head imperceptibly. It was obviously something painful for them to talk about.

Boromir broke the awkward silence. "Fangorn forest is a deep, dark woodland with towering trees and an oppressive, heavy atmosphere. It is one of the oldest forests in Middle Earth, and one of the wildest. Few folk, Good or evil, dare to tread inside, for they say… the trees are alive. Moving, speaking. Alive." Gimli couldn't suppress a cold shiver. He hated forests. At least lorien had been a place of joy and light. Merry and Pippin had told him once about their travels in the Old Forest and how the trees could think, and moved, and how the Old Willow had even tried to capture and kill them. Legolas and Aragorn's expressions didn't change, but there was a faint tightening of their faces. On the other hand, Percy and Nico just looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"You mean you guys are scared of dryads?" Nico asked, snickering.

Boromir looked faintly annoyed at not getting an expected reaction. At their confused expressions, Percy decided to explain. "Back where we come from, there are spirits everywhere. Some are hostile, of course, but most are peaceful, like the naiads, the Nereids and the dryads. Nereids and naiads are spirits of the sea and rivers, while dryads are the spirits of trees. They usually take the form of young maidens, and can talk and walk just like normal people, except they can't move far from their tree. Most of the time, they're really friendly and playful." Boromir and Aragorn's eyes were wide with surprise. Legolas, though, looked wistful at hearing that.

"Are there rock spirits too?" asked Gimli with mild interest.

Percy frowned. "Hey, don't ask me. I've never met any. Maybe you should ask…" he fell silent. Fresh pain entered his eyes. Gimli internally started yelling at himself.

Nico hesitated and took over for Percy. "As a matter of fact, there are. The numina montanum, mountain gods. Big, ugly rock guys who toss rocks at you if you disturb them."

Through the huffing and panting, (they were picking up the pace and going faster now) Gimli managed a smile. "That sounds like the rock giants my father encountered when he was with the Fourteen."

Aragorn whistled to get their attention. "You should save your breath for running. We still have a long distance to cover before we reach Isengard."

Gimli muttered a dwarven curse, and they continued running.

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After what felt like another eternity of pumping his short legs, Gimli noticed Percy slowing down.

"Aragorn!" Percy called. "Stop!"

The whole company slowed to a halt and looked to Percy questioningly. Percy held up his hand and cocked his head, as if he was listening hard to something. Gimli strained his ears too but he couldn't hear anything other than the rush of the wind through the grass over the flat, featureless plain. Then Percy closed his eyes. "There are other people here. Horsemen."

Gimli wondered how Percy sounded so sure. Was this another of the abilities he had as a 'demigod'? Aragorn shielded his eyes with his hand, searching the horizon. "If that is true, they would be the Riders of Rohan, the Rohirrim. They are true masters of horses. Almost their entire army consists of mounted cavalry with deadly spears."

Percy frowned. "What are their attitudes towards outsiders?" His hand fingered something in his pocket nervously.

Boromir and Aragorn shared a concerned look. "The Rohirrim are… suspicious towards outsiders." Aragorn said, finally.

"But ever since their Rohan had been founded alongside Gondor, there has always been a mutual peace and an alliance between the two nations. But lately… we have heard…rumors. People say the Rohirrim pay a tribute of Black Horses to Sauron for the use of his Nazgul every year. I find this rumor hard to believe, but it is best to be cautious." Boromir added. "Why?"

"Because there's a troop of them coming through. I can hear their horses speaking. Should we call them?" asked Percy. As he spoke, Gimli's ears finally caught the sound of hoof beats on the ground. There were a lot of horses in the distance.

Gimli watched as Aragorn, Percy and Boromir had another of their silent discussions. Gimli heard the horses coming ever closer. Soon, the shapes of horsemen appeared on the horizon, riding swiftly. In another minute or two, they were going to pass them.

Aragorn strode out and stood tall. "Hail, Riders of the Mark!"

Nothing happened. Perhaps the thundering hoof beats had drowned out Aragorn's voice.

Aragorn tried again. "Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?!"

Still nothing. in another minute, they would be out of earshot.

Percy cleared his throat. "Allow me."

He then let off an extremely ear-piercing whistle, which made Gimli clap his hands over his ears with the shrillness of the sound. Nico, who was standing next to Percy, leapt a few feet into the air in shock. Legolas groaned and knelt low. "Percy, please be so kind as to warn us the next time you do that." He muttered, glaring at the grinning demigod.

With astonishing speed and skill, they checked their steeds, wheeled, and came charging round. Soon the six companions found the horsemen riding around them ever-tightening circles, until the group was completely surrounded, with a wall of bristling spears pointing at them. Gimli started fingering the haft of his axe. He was too short to reach the horsemen, but the legs of the horses would be easy to incapacitate. Immediately, weapons appeared in all of the groups hands. Legolas nocked an arrow to his bow, Aragorn and Boromir unsheathed their swords, Riptide sprung up in Percy's hands, Nico's shadow sword materialized in his hands. Then Percy hesitated and recapped Riptide. Gimli remembered Percy telling them that his sword was made of a metal that couldn't harm mortals. Bad luck, then. Percy was one of their best swordsmen. If things turned ugly and he couldn't fight, it would be a lot harder to escape from the horsemen.

The leader leveled his spear to Aragorn, the tallest of the group. "What business do four men, an elf and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!" Gimli frowned. His voice seemed a bit high to him. Something was not right here.

"Give me your name, Horsemaster, and I will give you mine." He retorted.

The lead rider handed his spear to another rider and descended his horse, drawing his sword. Gimli couldn't get a good view of his face, as it was mostly obscured by his helmet. He glanced at Gimli. "I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

Gimli seethed at the insult, but to his surprise, someone else leapt to his defense. "He stands not alone. You would die before your stroke fell." Legolas threatened, his arrow aimed straight at the Rider's head. The rider unsheathed his sword in return.

Instantly, the ring of spears tightened around them. The travelers stiffened. Gimli's hands were gripping his axe so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Boromir and Aragorn's hands were closed around their sword hilts. Legolas' arrow pointed unwaveringly at the Rider's temple. The tension was so thick you could pierce it with a spear. Then Percy sighed and pushed Legolas' hand down. "Alright, alright, Time out! Have you guys ever heard of the diplomatic approach?"

Nico snickered. "Yeah, like you ever used it before."

Percy glared at him. "Not the point, here."

The Rider spoke, lowering his sword. "We welcomed guests kindly in better days, but in these times the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Come! who are you? Who do you serve? Why are you in our land?"

Boromir and Aragorn looked at each other again, debating silently. They came to a decision. Boromir strode forward and nodded respectfully to the Rider. "Greetings, Riders of Rohan. I am Boromir, son of the Denethor, the Steward of Gondor." He gestured to Aragorn. "This is uh…" He looked questioningly at Aragorn, wondering if to reveal his true identity.

Aragorn coughed. "Strider is my name."

The Rider raised an eyebrow, then turned to Boromir. "Continue."

Boromir turned to the rest of the group. "This is Gimli, of the dwarves, and Legolas of the woodland realm."

Percy then jumped in before Boromir said anything about them. "I'm Perseus, and this is Nicholas," Gimli winced at the intensity of the death glare (ha ha.pun.) Nico shot him, but Percy seemed unaffected. "from the village of…uh…" Gimli groaned.

Boromir whispered something to Percy. "Ah, yes. Gondor, yeah. Boromir knows us well." Gimli noticed Aragorn and Legolas shaking their heads in despair.

Boromir cleared his throat. "As I was saying, we are Friends of Rohan, and of Theoden, your king. We come looking for our friends, who have been captured by orcs."

The rider sighed. "Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe."then, in a voice so quiet that Gimli barely caught it, "not even his own kin…"He raised his hand in a gesture, and the spears were withdrawn.

Aragorn frowned, then his eyes widened. "My friend! Eomer, Is it you?"

The circle of riders shifted a little nervously, and the lead rider stepped back a few paces. After a long, awkward pause, The rider took hold of his helmet, and pulled it off, freeing a long mane of golden hair. By Durin's Beard! It's a woman!

The woman turned to Aragorn. "Nay, it is not Eomer, but Eowyn, his sister. Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and taken lordship over these lands. Slowly, his slave Grima Wormtongue has been feeding venomous lies into the ear of our king. My brother Eomer saw this, and tried to warn the King, but Grima feared him, and now he languishes in a dungeon under the palace at Edoras. The White Wizard is cunning. Wormtongue proceeded to hunt out all who were yet loyal to Theoden and Rohan, and has banished them. He then sent a battalion of Rohirrim to patrol the land and bring all strange wayfarers such as yourself to him." She took a deep breath. "In my brother's absence, I have chosen to lead the Rohirrim. I could not allow myself to be banished, as it would mean leaving my king Theoden utterly defenceless, and also my brother. I feel hope has forsaken our lands."

Boromir put his hand to her shoulder. "My heart grieves for your country, Lady."

Nico cleared his throat. "Uh… you said bring all 'strange wayfarers' to the king. Does that mean you're going to take us in?"

Eowyn hung her head, her hair obscuring her face. "I am afraid I have no choice in this matter. My duty lies to my King, and I am bound to obey his commands." She looked up at them. "Will you come peaceably?"

Percy held out his hands. "Whoa, hang on a sec. We're on the trail of our captured friends! We don't have time for a detour!"

Eowyn gave Percy a sad look. "You said that your friends were captured by Uruks. We came across a band of Orcs late last night and slaughtered the lot. None were left alive. We piled them up and burnt them in a pyre. There is no way any of them could have escaped." She pointed to a point in the distance, where if one squinted, one could make out a faint spire of smoke.

Gimli's voice cracked. "If the halflings and Thalia were in there…"

Eowyn nodded. "They would be dead. I am… sorry for your loss."

Legolas put a hand on Gimli's shoulder for comfort. Percy frowned. "Wait, but just this morning, we found traces of our friends. At least one of them must still be alive."

"I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to go and search for them. I must take you to the King. I am bound to him and his orders. I beg of you, do not resist. Maybe if you appeal to the king, he will arise once more and shake off Wormtongue's influence! I will make sure you are treated well." Eowyn's voice was laced with desperation.

Aragorn, Boromir and Percy turned to each other, talking quietly among themselves. To Gimli's surprise, Percy nodded to them. They exchanged a long, hard look. Then Percy went to Nico and whispered something in his ear. Nico looked surprised, then started shaking his head vehemently. Percy then said something else, reasoning with him. finally, Nico nodded and flashed Percy a thumbs up.

Wondering just what they had decided, Gimli was relieved when Boromir came brief him. "We will go with her. She makes a valid argument. And if we succeed, Gondor will be reassured of help when the time comes."

Gimli looked at him, shocked. "Are you saying we should abandon the wee hobbits and Thalia?"

Boromir shook his head. "Percy will go after them. He can converse with horses, and can make a quick escape."

Gimli frowned. He could see some flaws in the plan, but he supposed it was the best one they had now. Besides, he was curious to see how the Rohirrim lived.

Eowyn whistled to one of the horsemen. "Give them the spare horses." When they were brought forward, she explained. "these horses were the horses of those who fell last night in the attack. We will be riding fast, and there is no way to keep up with a Rider of Rohan unless you have a horse too."

Gimli groaned. "I have no love of riding. It is too high off the ground for a dwarf. And all that swaying! It makes a dwarf sick."

Legolas laughed. "But you will hinder us otherwise." Saying so, he pulled Gimli up behind him unto his horse, a restive and fiery mount. Gimli clung tightly to Legolas, no more at ease than Sam or Nico in a boat.

Eowyn put her helmet back on, and called to the rest of the Rohirrim. "Rohirrim! Ride for home!"

In an instant, the horsemen took off. Very swift were the horses of Rohan. In moments, they were flying along the plain. Gimli groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to throw up.

Then the commotion started. A horse whinnied from the group, and several of the Rohirrim gave loud cries. When Gimli opened his eyes, he saw Percy riding away from the group, whispering into his horse's ear continually. Percy grinned and waved energetically as his horse peeled away from the rest. "Bye guys! And sorry Eowyn, but I'm sure the King won't blame you for my escape." He gave a loud whoop, riding in the direction of the spire of smoke.

"Should we pursue him, Eowyn?" asked one of the Riders, grasping his spear in readiness. Three more Riders had already spun their horses in readiness.

Eowyn turned to look at Percy's retreating form. She breathed a surprised exclamation. "That boy rides as if he had been born on a horse's back! He rides better than some of the Rohirrim themselves! I do not think we can hold out much hope of catching him. We had best make for home." She then turned away from the group. But as she turned, Gimli swore he could see a small, secret smile tugging at her lips.

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Thalia

The Night Before…

Thalia ran with the speed and grace of a gazelle. Yeah, spending a few years in the Hunters of Artemis can do that to you. Every so often, she would whirl around and send another few silver arrows into the pursuing orcs. She must have been running for only a few meters when she realized… that the hobbits were nowhere to be seen in front of her. She cursed. STYX! She had sent Merry and Pippin running ahead when the scrimmage started. Where were they now?!

A loud scream rent the air from the direction of the orcs camp. Thalia groaned in fear and frustration. There was her answer. Without pausing in her running, she whirled around and ran back to the orc camp as fast as her legs could carry her. She pulled her elven cloak tighter around her and pulled out her silver hunting knives. She was running too fast now to aim her bow correctly. She would have to go hand to hand.

She didn't have to go far. Already she saw some orcs clustered around something, where the scream had come from. Alright Thalia, remember your training. She flipped both knives into the icepick grip. Closing the gap between her and the pile of hungry orcs, she sprung into the air, twin knives flashing and catching the moonlight of her mistress. A couple of orcs glanced up curiously. One even had the time to reach for his scimitar. Thalia smirked. Too late.

She landed among the throng, and her knives started slicing. It was like jumping into a pile of powder. Golden dust flew everywhere. The knives of consecrated silver made short work of the orcs. Every so often, one of her knives would hit the orcs thick armor and jar her arm, but the other knife would soon find a chink in the armor and reduce the orc to a pile of monster dust again. This, as Annabeth had proved years ago, was one of the best advantages of fighting with knives. When one of the orcs finally got in a lucky strike and knocked one of the knives from her hands, she simply smiled at the orc and tapped the bracelet on her wrist. The hideous face of Aegis sprung out, causing the orcs to scream in terror and back off temporarily. Thalia grinned. She had an enormous advantage. She did not intend to lose it. In a few minutes, the hobbits were free. To her amusement, the hobbits then snatched up heavy orc shields and started bashing any orc then came their way senseless. She couldn't help laughing at their eagerness. Heh, reminds me of seven year old Annie.

Soon, they were up and running again. After making sure the hobbits were far ahead of her, she started running again. Okay, now I need a plan. Wait, a plan? Oh gods, I'm turning into Annabeth….she shook her head to clear her thoughts. She really needed a plan. Bringing one of her old training sessions with Lady Artemis back into her mind, she started recounting Lady Artemis' instructions if they were ever captured and separated from the rest of the huntresses. They had been broken into groups and each given a small checklist.

Step 1. Break out of bonds. Check.

Step 2. Cause a distraction and escape. Check.

Step 3. Leave something so that others following may know where you have gone. Hmm…. As she ran, Thalia rummaged frantically in her pockets for something she could leave behind. During the training period, they had been given small, silver coins with a silver bow and arrow printed on it. (Think the Mockingjay emblem from the Hunger Games, with the bird replaced by the bow and arrow) But I don't have one of those coins… Lets see what else I have…I never did manage to keep anything useful in my pockets… that was more Luke or Annabeth's style. Anyway…A few gold drachmas, a small squashed packet of ambrosia, three cakes of that elven bread, two rubber bands, a pencil, and ten US dollars, with small change. Aw, heck, why not? She dropped three dollars in coins.

Step 4. Find a safe and sustainable place to camp for a few days. Let's see… safe and sustainable. Hmm… there's a nice bush there… couple of rocks there…sigh. Who am I kidding? We're in a freaking flat field in the middle of nowhere with no cover for miles... where are we supposed to find a campsite? Thalia paused for a moment to whirl around and fire another few arrows into the orc swarm. They were still a way off, trying to recover from her kamikaze attack, but she wasn't going to take any chances. She glanced ahead, where the two hobbits were still running. She was impressed. For little round guys, they could run pretty darn fast when they wanted to. Still, they couldn't run forever. They had barely eaten anything for the past couple of days, other than that stupid orc drink. It had tasted horrible, like one of Mr. D's drinks (which already smelled plenty bad in her opinion) gone rancid. They desperately needed some place to hide and rest.

Far in the horizon, there was a dull red gleam. The sight filled them with hope, reenergized them. The orcs hated the sun. also, maybe now that they could actually see where they were going, they could actually get somewhere instead of blindly running in the dark. But still, they were tired. Pippin started to lag behind Merry. She was growing worried. She had managed to defeat them once, but the element of surprise had been on her side. Now, if the leader had time to get them organized as before, and as she was so tired she didn't think she could summon a single spark, they wouldn't stand a chance. Then, she felt the ground shaking. Something, a lot of somethings, were coming their way.

Suddenly, an entire battalion of horses with riders came riding towards the hapless orcs. They were lightly armored, and carried long, sharp spears. Their leader carried a flowing flag of a white horse on a green background. They thundered down the path, toward the orcs. The leading orc gave a yell of outrage and surprise, but the dawn had come, and the orcs were weakened. The Horsemen gathered in a tight triangle formation, spears leveled towards the orcs. The orcs stood no chance. It was slaughter. For a moment, Thalia stood, indecisive. Should she approach them? Or should she avoid them? Were they friendly? She bit her lip nervously. There didn't seem to be any choice. They were on a wide open plain, with no visible hiding place for miles. They were totally exposed. She hesitantly pulled out her bow, then turned to the hobbits to see…nothing. Thalia barely restrained herself from screaming. Where had they gone? How could they just disappear?

"Merry? Pips?" she whispered fearfully. "Where are you?"

"Here Thals!" a nearby rock whispered to her. Another rock near it waddled over ever so slightly. Thalia, dumbfounded, reached out and touched the surface of the rock, to feel…cloth. I am such a moron. The elven cloaks! She crouched down and pulled the cloak over herself, trusting the elven magic in the cloaks to protect her. Through the opening at the front, she observed the horsemen carefully. They were magnificent riders, that was certain. Those maneuvers they pulled off must have been practiced for days on end. She glanced back in the direction they had come from. It was still a wide, green grassy field as far as she could see.

She turned back to the riders. They were totally massacring the orcs. Now, they were piling up the corpses and setting a torch to them. Soon, there was a roaring blaze. At least they didn't have to worry about the orcs any more.

"Rohirrim, Back on Patrol! Head for the borders of Fangorn forest" their leader commanded, though his voice seemed a bit…high? Anyway, the riders formed up ranks and galloped away over the field.

Thalia stood up and brushed herself off. A forest, eh? Sounds like my kind of place. She pulled out the last three cakes of that elvish bread and bit into one of them, tossing the other two to the hobbits. "get your strength up guys, we're going to a forest."

Pippin groaned. "More running?"

Thalia considered briefly. "We might go slow the first couple of hours. But we're running in the afternoon. The horse's tracks will be easy to follow."

Merry sighed determinedly and stood up, pulling Pippin up as well. "Oh well, let's hit the road." He drawled, doing such a good Nico impression that Thalia had to grin.

The three of them found the tracks of the horsemen, then started off, pausing briefly to make rude faces at the smoking pile by the side. Thalia scratched a arrow in the ground along with a lightning bolt with one of her arrows just in case one of the company came by. Then they headed off in the direction of Fangorn Forest.

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Standing at the eaves of the great forest, Thalia felt a slight trepidation. This forest was…different. It had a different feeling from all the forests she had hunted in. Hunting on earth, the woods had always been welcoming to the Lady of the Hunt. On Middle Earth, Lorien had been a beautiful forest of light and joy. Fangorn on the other hand, had an oppressive atmosphere. The air was heavy. The trees whispered in the wind. Thalia got the feeling they were actually conversing. It was a bit creepy, to tell the truth. This forest did not welcome visitors. She glanced back at the two hobbits. "So what do you say? Do we make our campsite here?

Pippin studied the forest hesitantly. "Do we have to? The orcs aren't chasing us anymore. Do we have to go inside that place?"

Thalia thought it over, then nodded. "We need a safe place to camp. I want to have a peaceful nights sleep. Maybe on one of the branches of a tree."

Merry nodded slowly. "I see your point. Let's go then. But this forest seems even scarier than the orcs. The trees almost seem…alive."

Thalia studied the trees, waving in the wind, leaves whispering. Merry was right, they did seem alive. Hmm… maybe… She strode into the forest, found a sizable tree, then knocked twice on the bark of the tree. "Hello? Anybody home?"

"What are you doing?" Merry hissed fearfully.

"I'm trying to wake this tree up. You're right. They are alive. We have living trees called Dryads where we come from, y'know? They're usually in the form of teenage boys or girls, and are mostly friendly. Maybe I can talk to this one. I'm sure this one is alive. Hey, what are you looking at?" As she spoke, Thalia had just noticed the wide-eyed, suddenly silent hobbits staring at something behind her. It was only then she heard the creaking noise from behind her, like an old unused rocking chair that has suddenly been taken out and sat on. She sighed and massaged her temples. "There's something really bad behind me, isn't it?"

"Bad? I wouldn't say so, actually. that would be too hasty. Hoom hoom. Most curious indeed… a human, with two not-dwarfs. Very strange. hoom hoom. Still, musnt be too hasty . I think I should take you to Treebeard. He would know what to do with you."

Something very large and strong took hold of Thalia, clamping her arms to her sides, and lifted her up, despite her loud protests. Another woody arm grabbed both hobbits at once. Then, the tree which had picked them up started striding through the forest at an enormous pace. Thalia groaned. What had they gotten into now?

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Samwise

Sam jerked awake at the hissing noise. It was dark all over. He couldn't see anything. It was too dark. But he could hear. And he didn't like what he heard. There was a lot of scrabbling among the rocks, and something hissing death threats angrily. His master was screaming. Sam immediately reached for his saucepan. Though Tom Bombadil had given him an elven knife months ago, he found the saucepan his preferred weapon. There was no need for all that fancy knifework or swordsmanship. Just bash an enemy on the wrist and he would be too busy nursing his broken bones to defend himself from a sound knock on the head to knock him out.

He scrambled up and hastily lit a torch. The sputtering flame cast a flickering golden light on the ground. He ran in the direction of the screams, holding the torch high, and came across a most curious sight. Annabeth was lying on the stony ground, out cold. There was a long, thin, bony creature, grappling furiously with something Sam couldn't see. The creature, having noticed the light from the flame, turned to him, and Sam barely suppressed a gasp. Two bright green lamplike eyes stared malevolently at him.

There was a gasp from the ground. "Sam! Get away!" Frodo reappeared a little distance away from him, something firmly clutched in his fist, Sting in the other. The sight of Frodo only seemed to enrage the creature more, and he sprang towards Frodo again. Frodo let out a cry of fear and ducked behind one of the boulders that dotted the landscape.

Sam didn't hesitate. He dropped the torch and flung himself forward, desperate to protect his master and friend. The campsite was flung into darkness, but he could still make out the creature's form. He leapt onto the creature, but he had underestimated his opponent. Sam had seen its, thin, emaciated form and thought it weakened, but the creature was much stronger than it looked. It shrugged him off, then sprung on him, knocking him over, and wrapped his neck in a grip of iron. Sam gasped and flailed, but the creature was tough and wiry, and its long fingers were slowly tightening around his throat. Sam felt himself blacking out. "Master Frodo! Help me!"

The creature, momentarily distracted, turned, and for just the slightest moment, its grip loosened. Sam took full advantage of that to kick out with his feet, knocking the creature of him. It gave a shriek of anger and glared at him. "Nassty hobbit. Nasssty friend of Bagginses!" It then seemed to cough. "Gollum, Gollum!" the realization hit Sam and Frodo at the same time. Gollum! The creature that Bilbo had won the Ring from. The creature that had betrayed the whereabouts of the Ring to Sauron.

Sam hurried over to where his master was crouching behind the boulder, his heart beating like ten of Master Gandalf's fireworks going off at once. "Master Frodo! Are you alright?"

Frodo nodded grimly. "It sprang out at me in the blink of an eye, hissing and waving that huge rock. Annabeth woke up to my scream and drew her knife, but Gollum saw the bright gleam of her knife and threw the rock at her. It hit her forehead before she could react and knocked her unconscious. The next thing I knew, it was chasing me and started crying out death threats. Then you appeared with that torch, and saved me again."

The two hobbits then peeked out from behind the boulder cautiously. "Is it gone, Master Frodo?"

The cackling hiss came from behind them and chilled their blood cold. "Foolissh hobbitses. Die!"

Quick as lighting, Sam brought his saucepan up before him, trying to shield himself. Something clanged against the iron of the pan, then scrabbled against it for a few seconds. Frodo, meanwhile, was not so lucky. Sam heard a loud cry of pain from his side. Throwing caution to the wind, Sam flung his saucepan in that direction. There was a shriek of fear, and a dark shape detached leapt away, clutching its head.

Sam grinned triumphantly, but in a moment, he realized that he had just thrown away his only weapon, and his face turned glum again. His heart started hammering again. He swept his gaze around fearfully. Where had Gollum gone? Where was he hiding? He couldn't see Gollum now, but that was almost worse. For all he knew, Gollum could be gone, but it was equally possible that he was still somewhere, hiding in wait for an unsuspecting hobbit. He could even be creeping up on him right now. Sam cursed himself for dropping the torch. He was now weaponless and blind.

A loose pebble under his foot clattered as he stepped on it. Sam almost leapt out of his skin at the noise. Suddenly, with a huge sigh of relief, he saw the bright glow of Annabeth's bronze knife by her hand. Sam rushed over to it, but a shape sprang out of a rock and intercepted him. Again, Sam felt the fingers of steel closing over his throat.

It was useless, he knew, but he gave in to his instinct and screamed for help. "HELP! SAVE ME!" The cry echoed around the rock walls. Gollum hesitated for a second, but seeing that nothing was happening, he started squeezing his neck with renewed vigor. As Sam blacked out, he knew he was growing delusional and seeing things, for he thought he saw a line of little torches of dancing flame coming into the valley and running towards him. The fingers around his neck loosened, but Sam didn't feel anything. Darkness welcomed him into its embrace.

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In another place, two beings watched over the happenings of Middle Earth. One of them directed the other to look in the direction of Isengard. Isengard was filled with fire and smoke. In huge, gaping caverns, Saruman was making still more of the foul Uruk Hai. Sparks flew from the smiths as they crafted more scimitars for the army. Dunlanders and Easterlings, men who were enemies of Gondor, pledged themselves into his service, and he sent them out to pillage Rohan and break the land. Wargs bred freely in a space given to them, and were trained to carry orc riders. Entire battalions of orcs practiced battle maneuvers. Saruman was preparing for a huge war. Saruman himself stood in his castle chamber, holding an orb in his hands, staring deep into it, speaking into it. tounges of fire flickered in the orb, forming… an eye…

"The world is changing. Who now has the strength to stand against the armies of Isengard and Mordor? To stand against the might of Sauron and Saruman, and the union of the two towers? Together, my Lord Sauron, we shall rule this Middle Earth."

Around the Ring of Isengard, the forest had been destroyed. Huge, towering monarchs chopped down wantonly, used to feed the fires of Isengard. There was a dead space of wasteland around Isengard. Inside, everything was blackened with fire and smoke. The two beings looked further inside. A figure lay hunched in a dismal cell. His wrinkled face was still tightened with resolve, but he was slowly fading. Ever so slowly. Even though he had Narya, the ruby ring of fire and inspirer of hope, he was slowly fading. Saruman walked into the cell to sneer at the figure, and spat into it. The man inside did nothing. Saruman gave a cold smirk and walked outside again to command his armies.

The two beings turned their attention to a small group in the forests outside Isengard. Three people spoke with an Ent, one of the oldest and wisest in the forest. Outside the forest, a figure on horseback thundered steadily closer.

One of the beings turned to the other sadly. "Is it time?"

The other nodded firmly. "It is time."

Three more beings strode into the room. The first, a woman, spoke. "The time has come to deal with Curunir, hasn't it?"

The first being nodded again. "Alatar, Pallando and Aiwendil will be needed for the coming days."

The two nodded and disappeared in a flash of light.

The first woman walked over two the two men. "Let us go." The three disappeared in a flash of light.

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DUN DUN DUN…

I hoped you loved this chapter! This chapter has been really fun to write, and I loved throwing in those little twists. Heh heh. Any of you want to venture a guess at who the people coming into the valley were?

Anyway, please please review. Recently, some kind readers have informed me of a couple of typos in the last few chapters. Thanks guys. I think they were Ny'Kle and Forget the Rest. I'll get around to fixing them when I got time. Oh, and you know, my beta (And foster-sister) wishes that her story can get more attention. So, if you're free, you might want to go and look it over.

Thank you for reading and leave a little something in the box!

Pjcrazy signing out.