"May I?"

Frodo looked up at Sam's gentle question. They were settling in for the night, and he couldn't have been happier. Traveling was well and good, but their pace was grueling. Aragorn and Gandalf were attempting to clear the Misty Mountains before the snows of winter set in. They were about to take a three week journey in just under one.

"May you what, Samantha?" he asked, cocking his head.

"I was wondering if I could examine the ring. If a Gou'uld really created this device, I might be able to tell what's in it."

Frodo had stopped listening when the word 'examine' had passed her lips. "NO!" he shouted, clutching at the ring on its slender chain, then blushed as she jerked back her hand.

"Frodo? Are you all right?" Suddenly Gandalf was standing next to him, and the solid presence of his friend decreased some of his panic. Sam was still staring at him, though, at it alarmed him.

She wants it she wants it don't let her take it...

Frodo shook his head, clearing the whispered words from his mind.

"Everything all right, Carter?" Jack was standing behind the blond woman, one hand resting on his 'gun'.

"Fine sir," she answered, finally looking away from him. Frodo released the breath he was holding. Gandalf wouldn't let her take it away from him. "I was just asking if I could examine the ring. I was going to check for naquadah, considering who made it."

Gandalf spoke. "I'm afraid only Frodo may hold the ring, Samantha," the wizards words were kinder than the hobbit liked. She'd tried to take it! He should be blasting her with one of his spells, not consoling the woman! She'd tried to steal from him!

Frodo shook his head again. Samantha steal? She'd asked him nicely, and he was acting like she'd tried to take it in the dead of the night.

Samantha was not dissuaded. "I don't have to touch it, though physical contact does help. I just need to get a little closer than he might be used to."

Frodo looked around, noticing for the first time that the eyes of the whole fellowship were on the three of them. He hadn't shouted that loud, had he? "It's all right, Gandalf. I just overreacted," he released the ring. "Go ahead."

Samantha nodded and closed her eyes. He watched warily as she lifted a hand and held it suspended over his heart, the palm squarely over the ring. After a moment her hand dropped, and she shook her head. "I couldn't detect anything, sir," she said before turning concerned eyes on him. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Frodo forced a smile. "Right as rain, Samantha."

The blond woman nodded before standing up and moving to the fire, where an odd mix of the 'MREs' and the supplies they were given were being prepared for dinner.

" Are you all right?" Gandalf asked quietly, carefully, as he lit his pipe.

"I'm just tired, Gandalf," Frodo whispered, running a hand over the shoulder where the wound from the Nazgul burned, resisting the urge to rub lower, where the ring rested against his skin and almost seemed to throb with his wound. "My shoulder still worries me a bit."

The wizard nodded, taking a deep puff. "I fear it will trouble you all your life, but hopefully not everyday. The wound went deep, and has yet to heal."

"That must be it, then," Frodo said, smiling. " I'm just tired."

"The ring is growing stronger, isn't it?"

The question was conversational, quiet enough that the rest of their company had probably not heard it, but to Frodo it seemed to echo from the hills around them. "What?"

Gandalf took his pipe away from his mouth, fixing Frodo with a stare. "Do not play deaf and dumb, young hobbit. You heard the question just fine."

Frodo dropped his head, then nodded once, the sharp movement almost indiscernible. "At times I feel it would snap my neck, it's so heavy. At others, that it would lift me into the clouds."

"I fear this will continue, Frodo," Gandalf whispered. "The ring knows where it's going, and grows stronger with every step we take towards Mordor."

"What if it becomes too strong?" He didn't bother to hide the fear in his voice. The image of Bilbo, reaching for the ring as he became someone else...something else, was too fresh.

Gandalf sighed. " It is a burden that you have to bear, Frodo Baggins. No one can do it for you."

Frodo nodded, closing his eyes. What would happen if one of his companions tried to take it? He had Sting, but no real training with a sword. Even if he did, could he really draw the weapon against his friends to defend himself? An image of Sam, standing in front of him with a look of surprise on his face as Sting protruded from his chest made Frodo wince.

A heavy hand on his shoulder broke his thoughts. "No matter how strong it becomes, you are still stronger. Remember that, and all will be well," the wizard stood, pulling the hobbit up with him. "Now I believe supper is ready and waiting, and you must keep up your strength."
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Jack settled down on a rock. First watch was about as hard as last watch, since you wanted nothing more than to sleep once you finally got a chance to slow down. He glanced back at the camp. Everyone had passed out, as far as he could tell, with the exception of Teal'c, who was sitting doing his Kel-no-reem, which amounted to much the same thing.

Lucky bastards.

"It does no good to curse your companions, O'neill," Legolas's voice drifted from the trees in front of him.

Jack smiled to himself. So the elf had been in front of him, for a moment he thought he was being paranoid. Good to know that his instincts weren't that rusty. "No one told me elves read minds."

Legolas laughed before sitting down on a neighboring stone. "We cannot, I was simply assuming you were feeling much the same thing I was."

Jack raised one eyebrow, grinning. "Nice to know we're on the same page."

"Same page?"

"It's an expression. It means that we're thinking the same thing, feeling the same way."

Legolas pondered the words. "Curious."

"Most humans are."

"Your people more so than others, Jack. You knew I was standing in the trees just outside your range of vision. How? Most people, including Gimli and Boromir, would have missed the fact, or dismissed their feelings as fear. "

Jack sighed. "I was trained to. We call it Special Forces. Basically they train you how to kill someone as quickly and quietly as possible, how to move without being detected, how to disappear," he tossed a stone into the trees.

"An assassin, then."

Jack humphed. That was about the best description someone had ever made right off the bat. "Yeah, just about. I've been in situations where I couldn't use my eyes, or my ears, just my instincts."

The elf nodded. "Many among the humans distrust my people because we are much the same. Are main weapons are stealth and speed."

"I've noticed. Can all elves do what you do?"

Legolas looked into the fire. "Most of the young males in Mirkwood are trained in fighting before they know how to do anything else. My home is close to Mordor, and the evil from that place seeps into our very ground at times. Those who cannot wield a sword and bow can quickly perish."

Jack nodded. "What about the women?"

"Some learn how to fight, more than the elders would like in more recent years. A few become soldiers. In my years I have had to fight alongside them, and there are times when a female is preferable to a male. They are lighter, quieter, and the competition makes then more deadly."

Jack could understand that. He'd run into all types in his years, and the worst thing to be up against was a woman who was trying to prove she could hang with the boys. Softer sex his ass. "So you were a soldier."

Legolas nodded, letting his eyes drift over the camp and surrounding tree line. " I and my brothers served for years, both as infantry and commanders. One cannot lead his people unless he himself as tasted battle and hardship. To let someone who has not obtain power is folly indeed, a philosophy shared by all the races."

Jack thought back to his Earth, where the people in power were the type to complain about paper cuts. He doubted their world would be so messed up if they had to deal with something more trying than having to choose between pastels or bolds for their curtains. "Sounds like a good practice to me. So, tell me more about Mirkwood."

The elfs eyes took on a faraway look. "It is the largest of the elven dwellings that still exist in this country.

Our home is under the hills of our forest, great halls that were built by both elven and dwarven hands long ago, in the time before my father. It is beautiful, O'Neill. Underground rivers and lakes feed fountains of fantastical shapes and colors."

"Why do you live underground?"

Legolas's eyes darkened. "We were driven there, in the days when Mordor's evil spread unchecked through the world. Terrible creatures invaded the forests, killing my people and driving us into the underground caverns. We refused to leave, and fought for over a thousand years before the evil began to recede. Some of us have ventured above ground and made homes, but they are few, and the City remains our refuge."

Like living in a bunker, Jack thought to himself. "Why didn't you just leave?"

"Mirkwood is our home, Jack. Would you allow someone to drive you from yours?" at the colonels silence, Legolas continued. " Too many of our people died defending our forest to leave it, so we stayed, and weathered the storms. Perhaps you haven't noticed, but elves are a proud race, perhaps too arrogant and stubborn for our own good at times. We resist change until it cannot be stopped, a hazard of living so long without changing ourselves."

Jack was presented with an image of himself at the elf's serious words, an image of him at sixty, still trying to see the world through the same eyes he had now. He hated to think about it, but he knew what the elf said was true. After a while, you cant change how you see the world, not enough to stay in it.

Silently, he watched the elf pull out one of his blades, running a whet stone over the sharp edge with the ease of long practice. The weapon itself was beautiful, but worn and chipped in places, and had the air of a well used, and well loved, possession. Legolas eyed the blade in the firelight before running an oil cloth over it and returning it to its sheath, repeating the process with its twin. That done, he turned his attention to his arrows, checking each with a critical eye, running a finger over the fletching and shaft. It served to remind Jack that these weren't just props or toys, they had to be ready anytime, for anything, and required maintenance it they were to be at their best. Jack let his mind drift while his senses stayed on alert. They had about another hour before their watch was up, then he'd be able to get some much earned sleep.
________________

Teal'c opened his eyes when a soft hand rested on his shoulder. "I am ready, Major Carter," he said, folding up from his sitting position. He could see Aragorn's silhouette against the firelight, already seated facing the treeline.

"Why do you speak to her so formally?"

Teal'c came to stand next to the man before answering. "In my culture it is proper to name someone according to their rank. Given names are a sign of familiarity that is reserved for family members and close friends."

The ranger nodded. "They use your given name."

"My family name was forfeit when we were banished from our home."

Teal'c expected sympathy at his confession. Most tau'ri were quick to offer it when they learned of his past. Others allowed their contempt for such a culture to show, if not in their comments then in their looks. Teal'c was surprised when he sensed neither from the man, only a deep feeling of understanding.

"I too live in exile, Teal'c," Aragorn said, turning his head to look at the jaffa squarely. "A self-imposed exile to some extent, but exile nonetheless."

" You are the heir to a kingdom."

A grim smile met that declaration. "The bastard heir to a kingdom quickly falling into ruin."

"Then you would deny your birthright?"

"I do not believe in someone inheriting a right through birth, Teal'c. The only rights that should be given are those that are earned in ones lifetime. I have no desire to become king of Gondor, or anywhere else. Besides, most of the noble houses of Gondor would likely rebel if the throne was occupied by someone whose claim could be called tenuous... at best. I have no desire to stir up a civil war."

Teal'c raised one eyebrow. "Then why does it still weigh so heavily upon you?" Aragorn didn't respond. "I have noticed in my years on Earth that humans tend to preoccupy themselves with what they cannot control, paths that should have been taken, but were not. It is a quality that is lacking among my own people."

"Then you are not human?" Aragorn's interest was piqued.

"The jaffa are descended from the humans of earth. We are bred to serve, to fight, and to die for the false gods who enslave us. They require absolute obedience, or the semblance of. Indecision is something that we do not have the luxury of having."

"Then for that I envy you."
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THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for reading my stuff. I added this chapter because I thought they needed some bonding time, or something. Please leave a donation in the feedback box and let me know if I'm doing a good job with the characterization!!! :)