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.

16. Choices, choices

Writing a story is a strange experience, Isnt it? like for two-three weeks, busy as hell, and when you have time, you stare at the computer, hands poised to type, but nothing comes out. Then you receive a couple of reviews, and resolve to go near the computer again. You place your hands on the keyboard, and suddenly the story comes flowing out. Honestly, that was what happened to me. I had the draft sitting around for ages, then I suddenly wrote everything in two-three days flat, plus editing my foster sisters story for her.

I do apologize for the long wait, though I hope you great readers won't be too angry. Enjoy this chapter which I have enjoyed writing a lot, as it gave me a chance to explore the personalities of a few other characters. And when you are finished, I hope you can find the time to go to my sister alone on the water's profile and read her story.

Questions? comments? Congratulations? Criticism? That box down there waits for all of them.

So anyway, on with the tale!

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Percy

"Ah, that was fun…Can you gallop a bit faster, Snowfire?"

Of course, My Lord.

Silhouetted against the evening sky, Percy Jackson practically flew over the grassy plains of Rohan atop the horse he had 'borrowed' from the Rohirrim. It was a magnificent horse, and terrifically strong. The moment Percy had touched the mare, when Eowyn commanded them to ride; he had established a link with the horse. The horse, of course, had never heard of Poseidon, but he recognized him as a 'horse-lord', and was perfectly willing to obey him. Percy supposed that was his heritage coming through.

Now, the spire of smoke drew closer and closer. As he approached, warm waves of heat from the fire enveloped him, red tongues of flame lazily licking around a blackened mound. A lump got into his throat and refused to leave. Could their fellowship lose anybody else? His heart had already taken a hard stomping when Gandalf plunged into the chasm, and then torn in two when Annabeth vanished along with the hobbits. He didn't know if he could take any more. Silently, sensing his thoughts, Snowfire slowed into a canter, and then into a slow walk, finally stopping a few feet from the pyre. Percy slid off the horse and uncapped Riptide, taking a few steps around the pyre. Now that he was actually here, he felt stupid. Look for Thals? How am I even supposed to do that? I'm not Aragorn...This would be a really good time for 'Ranger Sense'...

He knelt to the ground, trying to study it like he had seen Aragorn do a million times. Was that a footprint? Ooh! That looks like a hoof print! Theres another one! Oh look, They're everywhere! Percy huffed and straightened up. The ground was too messed up to guess anything. The Rohirrim must have galloped everywhere, thrusting their spears into the throng. There would be no way to find tracks now. He glanced back the way he had come. The only tracks he saw were a long trail of hoof prints, which must have been the Riders, and the trail Snowfire had made.

Come on, Seaweed Brain! Think! What would Thalia do? A wry smile played on his face. In the absence of his real girlfriend to lecture him, his mind seemed to have adopted Annabeth's gentle chiding voice to do it. He started thinking. Thalia was a huntress. They had been betting on the fact that she would have been able to escape from the orcs and take the hobbits with them. If she didn't, then… Percy's gaze drifted to the charred remains of the orcs. He shook his head. Nope. Alright, then. Thalia was a huntress. He was sure Lady Artemis would have taken them hunting in many remote areas, so… A trail. Thalia would leave a trail for them to find, just like Pippin had dropped that golden leaf for them to find. With a new gaze, Percy stalked around the area, searching for something out of place, something that didn't belong.

He let out a whoop of relief when he saw the coins glinting in the yellow gleam of the evening, half buried into the grass. Six silver coins, stamped with the face of a president he couldn't bother to place, and the Eagle emblem on the other side. Trust Thalia to carry around something with her dad's emblem. He grinned and pocketed the coins, noting the rough arrow and lightning bolt scratched into the ground. The arrow pointed in the direction of the Rider's tracks. He raised an eyebrow and whistled lightly to Snowfire, who trotted over immediately. He rubbed her head absently. "You game for another run, girl?" She nickered and nodded. Percy swung himself into the saddle, and they sped off again, following the tracks, the sky rapidly darkening above them.

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"Whoa…" standing at the edge of the massive forest, Percy had to admit he was seriously impressed. The fringes of the forest alone seemed to stretch several times that of Central Park. Yes, Boromir and Aragorn had talked about its size, but this was far larger than he had been able to imagine. Looking into its dark and tangled depths, he could guess why people called it dark. It was…dark. Little to no light passed through the branches, and the way the trees whispered and swayed, even though there was no trace of a breeze. The very air was heavy, like in the Mines. And as per usual demigod luck, night was falling. He had ridden all day since he had met the Riders. It was a safe statement that you would have to be crazy to willingly walk into the forest even during the day. Thus, his mind reasoned, it was guaranteed that Thalia had gone inside. Anybody sane would then proceed to turn around and walk away or at the very least wait until morning. Naturally, the demigod shrugged and walked into the forest, his horse following nervously behind.

The darkness of night wrapped the forest in almost pure blackness. Deciding to keep his sword hidden in case of offending something that lived there, Percy elected to forge on ahead in the dim light. Of course. he then proceeded to trip over half a million tree roots and rocks that seemed to be there just to annoy him, and then smash into several low-lying branches strategically placed at just the level of his head. A series of creative curses he had picked up from the Hermes and Hephaestus Cabins punctuated the silence. Finally, he gave up and allowed Riptide to spring to life, the faint bronze glow startlingly bright to his eyes.

As he continued walking deeper into the woods, a niggling doubt started to nag at him. He rolled his eyes and ignored it. It grew stronger. After what must have been another few hours, he finally slumped down against a tree. "That's it. We're lost." He sighed. You'd think Thalia would at least mark a few trees…a bit reluctantly; he pulled out his bedroll and settled in for a quick nap. No sense walking in the dark till he dropped. You'd think being that tired, sleep would be almost instant for a sleepy demigod. But amid the eerie quietness of the forest, Percy was too keyed up to sleep. After a long while of tossing and turning, he gave up and sat against the rough bark of a tree, waiting for dawn to arrive.

Finally, at long last, a faint golden light washed through the trees, thin rays of sunlight touching the face of a demigod with a very stiff neck. He groaned and stretched himself, before gulping down a square of ambrosia and a quick swig of nectar to keep him going. He picked up Snowfire's reins and began forging through the forest again. At the very least, he should begin looking for a way out. After some time, the forest seemed to lighten, as more rays shone into the ground. Presently, the forest path widened enough that he could mount Snowfire again, allowing them to canter through the forest. Percy even found himself beginning to enjoy himself, like it was just a walk in the woods of Camp Half Blood. The utter silence was still creepy, though, so he did what came naturally to him. He started whistling one of the old classic campfire songs from Camp Half Blood, '99 cans of Diet Coke on the wall' It almost made him feel better for a while. Unfortunately, it was probably the noise which woke it.

Suddenly, with a loud creaking sound, the tree in front of them shifted. As in, two green eyes the size of plates opened on the trunk and looked at them, before the whole tree stretched and unfolded to stand at nearly twelve feet tall. Percy yelped and instinctively clapped his hand to his watch, causing it to spiral out to a bronze shield, then reaching into his pocket and flicking Riptide's cap off in a practiced movement. Snowfire reared in a panic, but Percy managed to grip her flanks tightly with his thighs. When you flew on a boisterous (black) Pegasus prone to frequent loop-de-loops and crazy stunts, you learned to hold on pretty fast. Percy tensed, waiting for the tree to make the first move. So the legends were true. They were certainly no dryads… After a moment, he slowly lowered his sword. The tree wasn't making any hostile moves so far, and it wasn't glaring at him. Slowly, Percy recognized the look in his eyes. He saw it in Annabeth's eyes whenever he took her out to a new place. Curiosity. Puzzlement. The tree was studying him carefully, trying to decide what to do with him.

Percy's arm got tired and he capped Riptide entirely.

Lord? Should I gallop away? Snowfire inquired hesitantly.

'No…I don't want to risk making it chase us. That would be just asking for trouble.'

After what felt like an eternity of standing still, which was, of course, torture for an ADHD demigod, the tree finally spoke. "Times are changing indeed; yes… very fast…there were times when an Ent could spend decades in the long sleep without hearing the slightest tread of man or elf. Hoom hoom. But in these two days alone, there have already been six people in the forest woods. Aye…Fangorn himself has requested that all newcomers be bought to him at the Entmoot, so I shall. Hoom hoom."

Percy's heart leapt when the tree said something about other visitors. Thalia was in here! "Uh, thanks? You can lead the way, then and I'll…whoa! Styx!" the gnarled fingers of the tree closed around Snowfire and him.

The tree made a sound that sounded a lot like an old man's dry chuckle. "Ah, young one, you are hasty, but even at your hasty strides, it will still take you three days to reach the Entmoot. Far better that I carry you. Hoom hoom."

Percy was tensed like crazy at first, but after a long while of walking, the rhythmic sway of the tree's strides started to relax him. looking back, they must have covered an incredible distance. One of the tree's strides was as long as ten of Percy's own and he had counted up to five hundred before his ADHD kicked in, causing him to give up and just go with the flow. He felt his eyes getting heavier. After all, it had been almost a week since he had any sleep other than short naps on the grass, what with all the running around Rohan like crazy, then riding straight towards here without any rest stops. Last night's sleeplessness was cheerfully chipping away at his head too. Finally, he surrendered to the soft blackness and drifted off. Snowfire, seeing his apparent unconcern, also settled herself down. The Ent continued striding through the forest.

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"Percy! Look who finally showed up!" Something slammed hard into him, tackling him hard. Percy jerked awake with a yell, his hands jerking out involuntarily.

"Ow!"

Percy opened his eyes blearily. The first thing he saw was Pippin rubbing his sore chin while Merry laughed at him. He was by the side of a huge clearing under the woods, lying on soft green grass. Snowfire grazed peacefully nearby. A little way off, three figures dressed in white were talking quietly amongst themselves. In the clearing itself, the trees stood. Almost fifty of those gigantic live trees were talking in a curious and unintelligible conversation with almost musical voices, rising and falling like an unending chant. Before he got a chance to listen closer, another form stepped in front of him. "Bout time you woke up, cuz."

He rubbed his eyes, and then opened them again. "Thals?"

He was enveloped in a bone crushing hug. "It's great to see you again, Kelp Head." He smiled wryly and returned the hug. "Was it hard to find us?"

"You have no idea, Pinecone Face. I followed you to the forest just fine, but then I kinda got lost."

She rolled her eyes. "So… three dollars?"

Percy smirked. "Finders keepers. You left it for me to find."

A short exchange of glares, then they busted out laughing. Merry and Pippin wandered over, Pippin still nursing his chin cautiously. Percy grinned at them. "Hiya Merry. Pippin." He winked at Pippin, "Next time, don't attack a demigod in his sleep." They all shared a smile. "So…" he smirked at Thalia, then turned to the hobbits. "Who wants to tell of their adventures under tyrant Thalia?"

After the hobbits had finished a grand, (and probably very exaggerated) retelling of their story, Percy whistled in appreciation. "nice work, cuz."

"You know, Perce, I always knew that you would come. where are the others, though? Where's Annie?" Thalia asked.

Wheeeee, Percy felt the familiar falling sensation in his gut. Suddenly, he couldn't meet Thalia's eyes. Thalia gave him a concerned look. "Percy? Did something…happen?"

Percy forced down a deep breath, then in a monotone, he gave a quick account of the events after the orc attack. he told them about how Frodo, Sam and Annabeth had gone off by themselves into Mordor, how Nico had managed to guide Boromir back into the world of the living. Ignoring Thalia's cry of shock, he quickly continued to their run in Rohan, meeting the Riders, then 'borrowing' Snowfire.

When he finished, he felt a slight lightening of his heart. Telling someone did help. A bit.

"Oh, Perce…"Thalia began.

"save it, Thals. It was her choice, and I respect it." He half shrugged. "She wanted me to continue the quest, so I will. When everything is over, when that stupid ring is destroyed and Aragorn is king, we'll have a very romantic reunion, and I will take her to see some of those places Aragorn mentioned. I have to believe that she will succeed. It's the only way I can stand it. moping won't do any good." To his surprise, that was really what he felt. All the anger and pain he had felt slowly drained away. It was painful, yes, but it wasn't forever.

Thalia blinked. "Since when did you get so deep? (ha ha. Pun. Get it? Son of Sea God? Getting Deep? Ah forget it…)"

Percy shrugged and changed the topic. "So…what's going on with those trees?"

Thalia explained. "See that biggest tree over there? That's Treebeard, or Fangorn. He's the sort of leader here. even the forest is named after him. they call themselves Ents, and they're an extreeemely slow race. They don't really like to be rushed. Right now…" She glanced back towards the clearing, where all the Ents were still chanting in their curious conversation."…Entish is a reeaally slow language too. Right now I wonder if they have gotten any further than 'good morning…' maybe Treebeard is still calling the roll."

"You should know, eh Pinecone face?"

She laughed. Then she punched him.

Still smirking as he rubbed his seriously injured shoulder, Percy jerked his chin at the Ents. "So what are they here for, anyway?"

Thalia looked at him with a hard expression. "War."

He blinked. "War?"

Pippin nodded. "We told them about Saruman and Isengard. They seemed pretty angry with all the chopping and burning the orcs are doing. Treebeard wants to rouse the Ents and storm Isengard."

Percy raised an eyebrow and looked at the fifty Ents standing in the clearing. "I don't know…the trees don't seem awfully threatening. Sure, they're big, but do you really think they can storm a tower?"

Merry interrupted, his eyes far away, "Oh, no. they can rouse the trees themselves, you know!"

Percy blanched as he considered the sheer number of trees in the forest. "All of them?"

"Well…most of them. And I've got a funny feeling about these Ents. Somehow I don't think they are quite as safe and, well…funny as they seem. They seem slow, queer and patient, almost sad; and yet I believe they could be roused. If that happened, I would rather not be on the other side."Merry piped up.

"You mean like how I never imagined that old pine tree to turn out a - owwwww - very nice young - um, heh heh - badass huntress?" Percy grinned, "Who incidentally packs a really mean punch?"

"Exactly." Thalia agreed dryly, though the corner of her mouth twitched.

Pippin chuckled. "I guess. There might be all the difference between an old cow sitting and thoughtfully chewing, and a bull charging; and the change might come all of a sudden. I wonder if Treebeard will rouse them. He certainly intends to try…"

"If you make a comment about a cow, Percy..."

"That's still a very big strike force…" Percy smirked at Thalia, "So when do we attack? Saruman's the guy who caused that huge Caradhras snowstorm, right? I owe him something."

Thalia smiled at the mention of Caradhras, then her face fell. "They haven't decided yet. Like I said, they could still be saying good morning. The Entmoot has been on for almost two days now, and we're bored stiff. The Ent that carried you arrived this morning."

Percy raised an eyebrow, "How do you say 'good morning' in Tree-ish again?"

"By launching a pinecone at your face."

A low laugh echoed over his head. Percy glanced up to see what he had previously thought a normal tree open his eyes and look at him. right now, he wasn't even surprised. At the rate these things kept happening, he doubted anything could any more."My elders are a slow and cautious race, it is true, but I believe they will come to the right decision. I suspect it will not be long now. Even now, Treebeard is laying the challenge before them." The Ent smiled at him. "My name is Quickbeam, named because I am the closest to a 'hasty' Ent, because I said 'yes' to an Elder before he had finished his question." He laughed. "I have already made my decision. Saruman's foul orcs have felled many of my dearest friends. Orofarne, Lassemista, Carnimirie… fallen to the axes of the orcs, never to speak with me again…my rowan trees…" He sighed and settled down again. "It will not be long now. I am sure of it."

Percy glanced at Thalia, who shrugged, before lying down and twirling and arrow lazily between her fingers. The hobbits amused themselves playing tic tac toe on the floor, a game that Nico had taught them. Percy took out Riptide and started fiddling around with it. after a while, he walked over to the hobbits and watched them play.

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Pippin scratched an X in the dirt floor, then scratched a line connecting three of the X's in a line. "I win again...yaaaay..."

Percy smacked his face against a trunk. "Ugh. That's the thirty-fifth game in a row…" He looked the multiple crosses on the ground, then the still mumbling trees, then back at Pippin. "Best of seventy one?"

Thalia facepalmed and gave a long sigh. "What are we doing with our lives..."

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The air shifted. They all felt it. Thalia and Merry snapped out of their snoozes. Percy and Pippin stretched leisurely, standing up from cross-riddled ground - there were 71, Percy won. Quickbeam opened his eyes and turned towards the rest of the Ents. The very atmosphere was charged with an oncoming storm. Percy fingered Riptide. The lead Ent, Treebeard walked over to the hobbits and gently lifted them to his shoulder. "The Entmoot have come to a decision. Saruman!" He spat that name as if it were a particularly foul curse. "A wizard should know better. there is no curse in Elvish, Entish or the tongues of men for this treachery. Our business is with Isengard tonight. With Rock and Stone!"

"To Isengard!" the Ents called in many voices.

Merry grinned "Yes!"

Thalia and Percy cheered with relief. Finally! Quickbeam picked the both of them up and put them on his shoulders before striding off. Percy noticed that the other three strangers were also picked up by the Ents.

At the lead, Treebeard let out a ferocious roar, wild and primal that shook the very roots of all the trees in the forest, and blew back the trees for miles, then turned to speak with Merry and Pippin. "Come my friends. The Ents are going to War." An electric thrill went through Percy. He glared at Thalia, whose excitement had manifested itself as static. She looked insane with her hair sticking out and her sheepish grin.

The roar juddered their bones and bent back the trees, The Ents roaring their rage and vengeance, "To War!"

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Eowyn

Eowyn didn't think. She rode. Out in the fields, with the smell of the grass and the night air rushing in her face; this was where she could truly relax. To not think. Soon, she would be back in Edoras. She tried not to think about it and just enjoy this moment. This was the life she had dreamed of. She was a daughter of Kings, a shieldmaiden of Rohan. No longer bound to stay at home and watch the men depart to fight glorious battles while she stayed to tend the hearth. The sword by her belt and the shield strapped to her arm, the spear by her side, the reins in her hands, and the horse under her. This was the life she had always wished to live.

In a few more minutes, she would be home again. Eowyn dreaded the thought of returning to Edoras. Edoras, where Théoden King lay weak and old, his power and youth seemingly robbed of him forever. Edoras, where the snake Grima would again haunt her steps, pawing at her, whispering his insidious lies. Edoras, where her brother…languished in a dungeon because of his loyalty to Rohan. No. she did not want to go back.

She turned her head to check her Rohirrim, making sure each of them galloped in formation, not a single rider out of place, and also to check on the newcomers. The two Gondorians rode proud behind the group, keeping pace easily. The elf and the boy lagged behind, the elf because of the sick dwarf clutching tightly to the horse, and the boy because he was just a bad rider. She remembered the way the other boy had escaped. That boy had been a natural rider, and he had been able to coax Snowfire into obeying him almost instantly, something even a trained Rohirrim would find difficult if he wasn't the original rider of the horse. And though she felt his mission was a doomed one, she wished him luck. She had seen the look in his eyes, and the look spoke of depths of loyalty. She should know. Her brother always had that look in his eyes. It was the loyalty that drove him to never abandon his fellow Rohirrim, and to search for days on end for wounded comrades. She wondered what their mission in Rohan was. these were dark days indeed, and nobody could be sure who to trust anymore.

All too soon, she was at the gates of Edoras. Her home. Edoras was a huge city built on a hill, with many different levels to it. Compared to cities like Minas Tirith, it was quite a small city, housing less than three thousand people, but it was still the biggest settlement in Rohan, where people roamed free on their horses, and preferred to live in small villages and settlements. Edoras, however, was the capital city of Rohan, and the King lived here, along with most of the captains and the ranks of the Rohirrim. The Golden Hall of Meduseld, where the King sat court every day, sat at the highest point of the hill, guarded by men day and night. It was here that Eowyn was taking the newcomers.

Before any of that, she first took her horse Fleetfoot into the stables, unbuckling her riding gear, grooming her and feeding her. All Rohirrim loved their horses and placed them as one of their highest priorities. When she was satisfied that Fleetfoot was happy, she led newcomers to the Hall. Strangely, there seemed to be change in the atmosphere of Edoras. The people seemed more fearful, the officers she saw tensed. As she approached the doors, she started to feel puzzled. Where were the guards? Why were the doors closed?

"Lady Eowyn!" She whirled around at the voice, then relaxed upon seeing who it was. Hama was one of the few people she still trusted in Edoras, other than her Rohirrim, of course. There were a few men with him, also good friends of Eomer and her.

"Hama." She nodded warmly at him. "What has happened? Where is Théoden King?" she asked worriedly. She noted the men shifting uncomfortably with a mounting sense of discomfort.

Hama looked around nervously and sighed. "It may be folly to say this, but I fear Théoden King has taken leave of his senses." He spoke quickly, quietly. "A horseman rode in yesterday, bringing news from Isengard. Saruman has shown his hand."

A sense of dread filled her stomach. "No…"

"It's true. Saruman has declared war on Rohan, and sent out battalions of orcs and Dunlanders, who are at this moment running through the countryside, pillaging and looting any settlements they come across." Gamling spat.

Eowyn's eyes flashed. "That snake. He will pay. But where is Théoden King? What is he doing about this?"

Hama's head bowed. "The King is beyond reason. He showed no concern, not even when he heard news of his son Theodred's death in a skirmish with the orcs. Wormtongue has poisoned his mind. When the news was brought to him, he ordered the messenger be thrown into the dungeons for spreading ill news, and even now, he has decided to ride to Isengard to speak with Saruman. Grima's plotting is coming to fruition, I fear."

"That is grim news indeed."One of the Gondorians spoke up, the one who had introduced himself as 'Strider'. "It would then seem to the rest of Rohan as though the King has abandoned Rohan to its fate."

Hama nodded. "I suspect that is exactly what Wormtongue and Saruman hope to create."

Boromir spoke up. "Who then does Rohan look to now?"

Eowyn replied. "It would have been to Theodred, son of Théoden, but Theodred lies in the burial grounds of his fathers, slain by orcs. And now…"

"If there is a man the Riders trust, it would be Eomer, the King's sister son. But Eomer has been disgraced by the King and lies in a dungeon." Hama replied, thoughtfully. "But the King also has a sister daughter…" The men turned to her.

Eowyn backed up, heart pounding. She could not have heard right. What was Hama implying? "You mean to say…The people look to me?" She couldn't do this. It was too much for her! she wasn't prepared for this!

Hama took her shoulder. "You will be able to do this, Eowyn, daughter of Eomund, the King's sister. You are fearless and high-hearted. All love you. You are to be the Lord to the Eorlingas, when others cannot lead."

Eowyn sat down. Her head was spinning. She tried to speak, but no words came out. She tried again, and was surprised at how weak her voice suddenly sounded. "What should I do?"

One of the men, Baldric, knelt to her side. "You accept the position then, My Lady?" he asked.

Eowyn took a deep breath, then nodded tightly. In her heart of hearts, she knew it was the right choice. "For Rohan."

There was a collective sigh of relief. "Let the heralds announce to the folk that the Lady Eowyn will lead them!" Hama called. Immediately, messengers started out through Edoras, knocking at doors and spreading the messages.

"Okay… so what just happened?"a bored voice piped up. Eowyn gasped. She had almost forgotten about the newcomers.

She turned to them. "I am sorry, but there are pressing matters I have to attend to. Please, you may make yourself at home in Edoras. I am sure you will find a good inn to stay for the night." She sighed. Could this day have any more bad news in store for me? she wondered rhetorically. It started so well, too, with the orc battle and destroying a threat to Rohan. She stopped herself. Eomer always said that thinking was that would only invite further misfortune.

"Lady Eowyn!" a harsh, panicked voice called, punctuated by heavy gasps and pants. Eowyn lifted a hand to rub her suddenly throbbing temple. too late, it seemed. She turned to the exhausted Rider. The Rider had two children behind him. Two exhausted, sobbing children. Her heart clenched as she realized what must have happened. The children must be orphans now.

"You bring news for me, I expect?" She carefully controlled her tone. She had to stay strong. She could handle this. She could.

"Lady Eowyn, I fear I have no good tidings which to gladden you with. The orcs are coming. They are set on a course towards Edoras, and are destroying any settlements they come across. I found these two children wandering about the ruins of their house…" He put his arm around the two children. One a boy of about twelve and the other a girl of ten. He turned back to Eowyn, his expression grim. "I expect we have a week at most before the enemy reaches Edoras." The Rider heaved out.

A week? A week? Eowyn started panicking. She had never expected war to be like this. To her, war had always been about fighting in the open battlefield, and going out in a blaze of glory, to be immortalized in song for generations, winning great honor and valor to her family. None of her fantasies had ever covered fear and dread. And now she had to lead the people in absence of the King. There was only one person to go for advice. She turned to the rider . "Thank you for the warning. Now go. Eat and rest yourself. I will think about this news and form a plan. Also, make sure the children are well taken care of." The rider nodded gratefully and rushed off to stable his horse, leading the children along with him.

Eowyn descended into the dark dungeons of the Hall. This was a side of the Hall that was not usually shown to outsiders. The dark, cold walls and the everlasting smell of rot and damp. She hated it here. She walked over the first cell, and looked inside. A tired man lay on the threadbare mattress on the cold stone floor. Hearing her footsteps, the man turned, and his face lit up with recognition. "Eowyn! My sister, you look terrible."

Eowyn broke down. Her carefully maintained mask of calm broke as she poured out to her brother all that happened this day. "Oh, Eomer. You would have handled everything so much better." She sniffed.'

Eomer reached through the bars and held her shoulder. "Eowyn, Don't worry. You will do well by our people. I know it." He forced a grin for her sake.

"What would you have done, Eomer? I feel lost." She sighed.

Eomer's face grew thoughtful, then he frowned. "I have one solution, but it will not be pleasant. Helms Deep."

Eowyn's eyes widened. "The fortress? But that would be a cowardly action. Fleeing instead of fighting!" she stopped herself and shook her head violently. "I shall have to stop thinking only of myself now. Of course, the women and children will need to be protected. You are right. The city has to be emptied." The words tasted bitter in her mouth.

He looked at her and touched her cheek tenderly. "You have grown wise, sister of mine. Perhaps wise beyond your years." He sighed.

"War forces us to change. There is no alternative. I will take them to Helm's Deep tomorrow."

Eomer looked at her, pride shining in his eyes. "Sister, where are my men?"

"Théoden banished them from Edoras and Rohan. All three thousand of them. A portion of them have joined me, but the rest stay in a hidden valley not two hundred leagues from here. They are still loyal to Rohan, though, and have beaten back many raids from the black land even before they had a chance to enter Rohan. I and my men bring them food and drink whenever possible." She explained.

Eomer nodded, and gritted his teeth, forming a fist. "If only I could go to them. I feel weak, helpless! Rotting in this dungeon. There has to be something I can do."

A tear flowed down her cheek. "My brother, if there was any way to exchange places with you and allow you go roam free again, you know I would do it without the slightest hesitation. If only there was a way to free you, that also I would do, but this stone door is strong and thick, and Grima has taken pains to remove every possible way of escape." She sank down to the floor.

"Tell me more about the newcomers. It will take your mind of these dark matters for but a moment." He suggested.

Eowyn smiled at him gratefully, and started telling the tale of meeting two men, two youths, a dwarf and an elf running through the plains after hearing an extremely piercing whistle coming from the side. Eomer laughed when she mentioned her short disagreement with the dwarf, and raised an eyebrow when he heard about the elf defending the dwarf. When she mentioned Boromir, he smiled. "a great man and a good friend" he said. Concerning the two youths, he was intrigued, but did not inquire much, and he started laughing when he heard how one of them had 'escaped' from her. "and you say he rode better than some of the Rohirrim themselves? I will have to meet this boy sometime."

Eowyn smiled for the first time in a while. "Thank you, brother of mine. I will go and give orders to evacuate the city now."

Eomer held up his hand. "Before that, could you send in Boromir and 'Strider'? I would wish to speak with them."

Eowyn raised an eyebrow at his request, but didn't comment. She soon found the two Gondorians in a tavern with the others, having a hushed discussion, and brought them to the dungeons. Eomer had only requested to speak with the two Men, but it ended up with the entire group going downstairs. She stayed by the doorway for a while, listening to Boromir and Eomer exchange banter of old days, with Strider occasionally interjecting, while the boy sat in a corner where the shadows were darkest, almost if he was drawing them to him. She thought nothing of it, though, and returned to her men and called her heralds to announce the evacuation. She went to her second in command in her eored. "Erkenbrand. I am giving you the post of temporary First Marshall. Take what men we have right now in Edoras and muster them. We shall need an escort to Helm's Deep."

Erkenbrand nodded and hurried off, returning with his report not long after."There are two and one half companies in Edoras at this moment, My Lady. I could send messages to the other companies scattered around the Mark, but I fear they will not arrive in time, as they would be busy defending their own from Saruman's vile creatures." He replied.

600 men. Would that be enough? She nodded. "Send the messages anyway. Any help will be welcome." Six hundred men. Five eodreds. (note: one eodred=120 men. One company=two eodreds)It would have to do. She watched the people already beginning to pack their belongings and gather what they needed into wheelbarrows or saddlebags, some already beginning to form a line out of the city.

Once again, a tendril of doubt wormed into her heart. Was this the right decision? Am I simply sending them to their deaths? She banished the thought angrily, and went into her chambers and changed into a mail shirt and buckled her sword to her belt. Then, glancing guiltily around, she went to the King's chambers and slowly, reverently brought out the King's sword, Herugrim. She unsheathed the heavy blade and studied it. Her mind made up, she sheathed the sword and packed it into her saddlebag. Something told her it would be needed soon. She strode to the stables and saddled Fleetfoot. She would be leading the charge.

"Lady Eowyn, wait!" she turned to see Boromir and Strider riding towards her. she cocked an eyebrow in surprise. Boromir grinned. "Your brother charged us with keeping you safe." He exchanged a meaningful look with Strider, who nodded. Eowyn nodded simply, thanking them. She had tried everything she could think of, but nothing could break the stone walls or the iron bars barring her brother from freedom. In the end, he had forced her to leave him there, half joking that even if the mangy orcs attacked Edoras, they would have a hard time getting to him. She felt her heart tearing at the thought of this cruelty, and resolved to thoroughly punish Grima if she ever got her hands on him. She owed it to her brother.

"Where is the elf and the dwarf? And the boy too?" she inquired. "I have not seen them yet in the line." Boromir and Strider suddenly looked decidedly shifty. She raised an eyebrow, but decided not to pursue it further, shaking her head. "It is of no consequence now. We are leaving. Help me ensure that none stray too far from the group"

In a matter of hours, Edoras rode out of the city. Eowyn watched as they formed themselves into a group, with the Rohirrim Erkenbrand had mustered by the borders guarding them. The newcomers were at the front of the line, talking quietly. She squared her shoulders and cast a last regretful look towards the Hall, where Eomer would still be. Finally, she rode to the front of the line, and led the people on a course to the fortress in the mountains, Helm's Deep.

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Faramir

Faramir hadn't really been having a good day. No, not at all. The Rangers of Ithilien had just had an exhausting day turning back an army of accursed Dunlanders and Easterlings, who had been lately increasing in numbers. Today, they had even bought four mumakil (giant elephants) with them. Four! The Rangers had to use all their ingenuity to find a way to disable them, but they had finally succeeded. Madril had put an arrow through the drivers of one mumakil, causing it to lose focus and run, trampling through its own ranks. Damrod has successfully managed to poke an mumakil's legs so many times it finally went mad and thundered away, narrowly escaping being trampled himself in the process. And himself…He had single-handedly taken down two mumakil by first climbing up one of them and killing it's two drivers, then shooting the drivers of the mumakil which was beside his. As a parting shot, he fired two arrows into the brain of the mumakil he was riding. The Haradrim lost their confidence then, and were routed away back where they came from. Faramir resolved to tell his men to dig traps over Ithilien to ward off further attacks by Mumakil. All in all, it had been an exhausting day, but he couldn't rest. He still had to patrol the grounds with his rangers before they could retire back to Henneth Annun for the night.

Then Anborn arrived on horseback, telling of a regiment of orcs heading towards Emyn Muil. The Rangers had instantly shouldered their bows and buckled their swords. If the orcs got to Emyn Muil, they would have a straight path to the Argonath and Amon Hen. An opening into Gondor. They couldn't risk that. So a company of rangers, including him, had thrown on their dark green hoods and melted into the woods of Ithilien. Arriving at Emyn Muil two hours later, they had found the orcs and crushed them. The Rangers might be few and lightly armored, but they more than made up for it with superior tactics and unerring aim with their longbows. The orcs were clustered in one of the many hundreds of valleys in Emyn Muil, and it had been a simple matter to pick them off one by one. Faramir had even got some of his men to dislodge large boulders from clifftop and send them crashing into their ranks.

"Do we return to Henneth Annun now, Captain?"Damrod asked.

Faramir considered it for a while. They hadn't patrolled the rocky crags of Emyn Muil for some time, and there were still a few hours before sunset… "Nay, let us do a cursory patrol before departing. It has been some time since we last cleared Emyn Muil of orcs."

After a few hours of scouting, Faramir heard a low whistle of two notes, like any bird would make. The Ranger's signal. He crept over to where the noise had came from, and found Mablung lying in wait behind a rock. He saw it. a thin, bony, hairless creature, naked except for the loincloth around its waist. Long, grasping fingers constantly opening and closing around imaginary necks. Green, lamplike eyes, twisted in a hateful glare. It, like them, was lurking behind a rock. Faramir then turned to look at where the creature was looking so murderously, and saw an unusual sight.

Three small people, almost like children, were trekking through a dry valley, talking quietly. One was evidently a young human girl, the other two were people he had never seen before. They had the build and faces of grown men, yet their stature was small - yet not dwarves!He did not know what to make of them. They were armed. The girl wielded a strange knife that seemed to shimmer, causing Faramir to be unable to catch a firm glance of it. One of the men had a knife, obviously of elvish make, strapped to his belt. The other man was armed with a pan, normally used for cooking. Faramir looked at them in disbelief. This was a strange crew to be found in Emyn Muil indeed! And what was that thing following them? It evidently held malice to the interlopers.

"What are your orders, Captain?" Mablung asked. He had an arrow nocked loosely to his longbow.

Faramir held up his hand. "Hold, we follow them, and observe them more. We should not make any rash decisions."

And so they had watched, with some amusement, the little group walking in circles around the confusing maze of gorges and crags. But wherever they went, that thin creature followed. Faramir and Mablung followed behind the creature, taking great care not to be seen, at least until Mablung tripped on a rock, letting out a hurriedly muffled curse. Faramir caught him before he could hit the ground, but the damage had been done. The girl glanced back, and her eyes tightened. She then began leading the two Halflings on a new, winding path through the valleys. Eventually, with their attention more focused on the creature than the group, Faramir and Mablung lost track of the group. When night fell, though, a small spire of smoke rose from a valley some distance away, along with the faint red glow of a fire. Faramir sighed and rubbed his head. foolish. Having done such a good job in evading the creature by the day, they send up a signal during the night? He whistled to the rest of the Ithilien Rangers and pointed them towards the direction of the smoke. As one, the Rangers headed towards the spire with their customary stealth.

They were quick, but they were almost too late. They heard the shrieks of the creature, and the little people screaming. By the time they reached the campsite, the battle was nearly over. The girl lay to a side, unconscious with a knot in her forehead. The other man? Child? Staggered about, evidently disoriented. The creature sat on the last one, slowly squeezing the life out of him with its long bony fingers.

"HELP! SAVE ME!" the cry echoed off the rocks. There was no hesitation. Captain Faramir stretched his longbow and aimed at the creature, but the creature's constant movement meant that he could easily hit the Halfling by mistake. Quickly forming a new plan, he picked up one of the many loose stones on the ground and flung it with all his might. The rock flew true, and rebounded off the creature's skull with a loud thwack! The creature gave a shriek of pain and fear, then leapt off into the darkness. Anborn and Damrod made to go after it, but Faramir held up his hand. "Let it go. We have other matters to attend to first." He turned to the Halfling, who had fallen unconscious. "Take them to Ithilien. we can't risk showing them Henneth Annun yet, but we shall show them what hospitality the Ithilien Rangers have to offer."

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Ithilien was a fair country of climbing woods and swift-falling streams, with gentle slopes, shielded from the east by the Ephel Dúath and yet not under the mountain-shadow, protected from the north by the Emyn Muil, open to the southern airs and the moist winds from the Sea. Inside the woods of the land grew a wealth of sweet-smelling herbs and shrubs, and a vast array of tree species grew in Ithilien, some of them having been planted by men in days of peace. In the times when Gondor had been at its height of power, Ithilien had been counted as one of its fiefs. There had been a great tower here, the tower of Minas Ithil, tower of the Moon, until the dark forces had captured it, turning it into Minas Morgul, the Black tower of sorcery, the dead city. Ithilien withered, but it still remained a garden, with disheveled beauty. It was home for Faramir and his men.

They brought the little group to one of their other outposts in the land. A simple cave stocked with supplies. Faramir wanted to help these people, but he wasn't sure how far to extend his hospitality. Better to wait until they were awake and ask them a few questions. Meanwhile, he unrolled his map of Ithilien and the lands surrounding it. He whistled to his Rangers. "Rangers, what news?"

Madril placed his finger on Isengard, a tower in the land of Rohan. "Our scouts report Saruman has attacked Rohan. Théoden's people have fled to Helm's Deep." He pointed to another spot on the map, this one much closer to home. "But we must look to our own borders. Faramir, orcs are on the move. Sauron is marshalling an army. Easterlings and Southrons are passing through the black gate."

Faramir nodded grimly. "How many?"

"Some thousands. More come every day." Anborn spoke up.

Faramir traced a finger down the Anduin river and a city along its banks. "Who's covering the river to the North?"

Damrod frowned. "We've pulled five hundred men at Osgiliath, but if the city is attacked, we won't hold it." Faramir sighed and rubbed his temples again. This war was wearing on their resources. Osgiliath was a mighty city on the banks of the Anduin, the former capital of Gondor. It held an important strategic significance because of the huge bridge that spanned the Anduin at the heart of the city. It was one of the only crossings in the Anduin where a large army could cross without needing boats. For this reason, the orcs of Mordor attacked relentlessly, eager to capture this city to enable their armies to cross into Gondor without need for the endless building of boats and floats. Only a few months ago, he and his brother had fought there, defending the city against a contingent of orcs. They failed to repel the orcs, though they managed to extract a victory by destroying the bridge. Denethor, their father, had not been pleased, though he had acknowledged there had been no other choice. Not that it mattered, anyway. Denethor had never loved him.

Faramir shook of those dark thoughts and turned back to the map, tracing routes as he spoke. "Saruman attacks from Isengard, Sauron from Mordor. The fight will come to men on both fronts. Gondor is weak. Sauron will strike us soon, and he will strike hard. He knows now we do not have the strength to repel him." He brooded for a while, steepling his fingers. What should they do?

"Captain!" Mablung called. He turned and raised an eyebrow. "They're awake."

Faramir nodded and stood up, rolling up the map and stowing it away as he did so. He walked towards the back of the cave, where the group had been taken. The little group sat propped up against the cave wall, looking at them intently. Two guards leaned against the wall, talking idly.

"The girl is human, that is plain to see, but what manner of creatures are the little ones? Certainly not orcs." One commented.

"Elves?" said the other doubtfully.

Faramir laughed as he walked inside, causing the two guards to snap to attention. Faramir felt the keen eyes of the girl rest on him, and he felt as if he was being dissected in her eyes, being probed for weaknesses. It was most disconcerting. He collected himself. "Nay, not elves. Elves do not walk in Ithilien these days. And elves are wondrous fair to look upon, or so tis said." He remarked.

One of the little people snorted. "Meaning we're not, I take you. Thank you kindly." The other two broke into quiet snickers, and Faramir had difficulty restraining a smile.

The girl spoke up. "Perhaps when you've finished discussing us, perhaps you'll say who you are, and why we're here with our weapons taken away from us." Her voice was utterly calm and reasonable. "From what Sam has told us, you rescued us from Gollum, and for that we thank you. Now we only wish to have our weapons returned to us, and be allowed to travel outside again."

Faramir found himself quietly impressed with how the girl spoke. Her speech and her eyes spoke of an intelligence well beyond her age. But he still had to know who they were, and why they were here. "There are no travelers in this land: only the servants of the Dark tower, or of the White."

The other man, who had been quiet thus far, answered. "But we are neither." He, too, spoke quietly, with a firm resolve.

"Then make haste to declare yourselves and your errand."

The man nodded. "I am Frodo Baggins, and this is Samwise Gamgee. We are hobbits of the Shire, far to the North and West, beyond many rivers. This is Annabeth Chase, who is one of our companions. We have come a long ways, out of Rivendell, or Imladris as some call it." Faramir started. Imladris?! Wasn't that where Boromir had headed on the advice of that dream? He looked at the company with renewed eyes.

"Continue"

The girl took over the narrative. "Ten companions we had. One we lost in the Mines of Moria, the others we left at Parth Galen above Rauros. There were two other hobbits. A dwarf there was also, and an elf, and another girl and four men. They were Perseus, Nico, Aragorn and Boromir."

The men by his side exclaimed. "Boromir!" Faramir stood up and started pacing the floor. "Boromir the son of Lord Denethor? You came with him? Who are you then, and what had you to do with him?"

Frodo stood. "Are these words known to you that Boromir brought to Rivendell? 'Seek for the Sword that was Broken, In Imladris it dwells.'"

Faramir nodded. In fact, it was he who had had that dream. So these must be the Halflings the rhyme had spoken of. Then what was Isildur's Bane? He felt that he could trust them, the fact that they knew the rhyme was proof of their claim, but the Wise man trusts not to chance meeting on the road at this land. At last he spoke. "You were friends of Boromir?"

The three of them nodded. Faramir noticed something flash across the eyes of Frodo, but it was too quick to catch. Eventually, he spoke. "Boromir was a valiant member of our company. Yes, I was his friend, for my part."

"It would grieve you then, to learn that he is dead." Faramir said, his voice quiet, remembering that fateful day, when he had heard the mighty blast of the horn of Gondor, and found the cloven pieces down the river, but without a body.

At this, the three of them visibly started with horror. "Dead?! How?! He was alive and strong when we parted " Frodo gasped.

Faramir shook his head. "As one of his companions, I hoped that you could tell me." he paused, and in his softest voice, he said, "he was my brother." He sighed again and turned to Frodo. "what was my brother's most prized possession?"

He saw the halfling's eyes widen, as if fearing some sort of trick question, but he answered slowly. "Your brother bore a horn…"

That confirmed it beyond all doubt. These people had known his brother well. "Yes. The horn of Gondor, passed down from eldest son to the eldest for many generations. Five days ago, When I sat guard as Osgiliath, the blowing of the horn reached me. by night, the waters of the Anduin carried to me a cloven horn, in two shards. It was unmistakably his. Now, the pieces of the horn lie on my father's lap in Gondor, where he e waits for news. You can tell me nothing?" He asked, almost pleaded.

Frodo shook his head with an air of finality. "Will you not put aside your doubt and let us go? I have a deed to do, or to attempt. And we have need of haste." He added. "Go back, Faramir, valiant captain of Gondor, and defend your city. Let us go where our fate takes us."

Faramir honestly considered it, but questions kept crowding his mind. Frodo had seemed to be constantly touching something around his neck, and his eyes had flashed with a brief moment of fear when he revealed himself to be Boromir's brother. Isildur's bane. The words kept coming back to haunt him. Frodo had said he was a friend of Boromir, 'for his part' which meant that Boromir had done something. Tried to take that thing from Frodo, perhaps? Isildur's Bane. It had been a source of contention in the Company. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say it was a powerful heirloom. Isildur's bane. A fell weapon, perchance, designed by the Dark Lord. He had always assumed it was an orc arrow, but what if it wasn't? a glint from Frodo's neck caught his eye. Something gold.

Suddenly, all the legends he had devoured when he was but a child in Gondor came to his mind. He remembered the day, years ago, when Mithrandir appeared in Gondor one day to search the royal archives, searching for one legend. Specifically, the legend of the One Ring. His eyes wide, he turned to Frodo. Something in his eyes must have warned Annabeth and Samwise, for they moved as if to block him, but his men restrained them. He brought out his sword and used the tip to catch the thin chain around Frodo's neck. He lifted it gently. A small ring, wrought of bright, pure gold hung suspended. Frodo's eyes were wide with fear. "No…"

Annabeth spoke up, in a strong, clear voice, yet a slight tremor, almost undetectable, betrayed her underlying fear. "Well, you have found the cause of our errand, and you have us at your mercy. Now, perhaps, is the time to show your quality."Her grey eyes bore into Faramir's own grey eyes. He turned away.

Faramir smiled. A strange sort of smile. "So it seems," he began, speaking slowly and softly, in wonder. "So this is the answer to all the riddles. The One Ring that was thought to have perished from the world. Boromir tried to take it by force? And you escaped, and ran all the way – to me." he paused and looked around. "Here in the wild I have you. Two Halflings and a young girl, and a host of men at my call. A pretty stroke of fortune! A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality! Ha!" His eyes flashed with fire. Visions of taking the Ring, of destroying the enemy with it, winning valor and glory, and finally earning a 'well done' from Denethor, no longer in his brother's shadow, danced in his mind. It would be so easy. All he had to do was stretch out his hand for it. he laughed quietly. What a stroke of fortune…

"Stop it!" Sam cried. "Leave him alone! Don't you see? Don't you understand? The Ring is evil. He's got to destroy it. that's where we're going. Into Mordor. To the mountain of fire."

Faramir stopped, eyes wide. Destroy it? this much power at their disposal, and they want to destroy it? these people were truly a marvel! For a moment, he faltered.

"Captain!" A shout from outside. He turned, angry at being interrupted. Damrod stood at the cave opening, panting heavily. "Osgiliath is under attack. They call for reinforcements."

He turned back to the Ring. With it, he could totally annihilate the orcs. He wagered they wouldn't dare to set foot near Osgiliath again for months. It would be so easy. But his heart was pained.

"Please." Sam pleaded. "Its such a burden. Will you not help him?"

Faramir's head hurt. His heart was assured of one thing, his mind clutching desperately on another.

"Captain?" Damrod asked.

Faramir stood up, quashing the voice of his heart with difficulty. "Prepare to leave. The Ring…shall go to Gondor." He said with finality, turning his head away as much to hide his own troubled thoughts as not to see their expressions of hurt and sadness. He strode out of the cave. His father would have been proud of his choice, so why did he feel so torn?

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*Epic Lord of the Rings music plays*