"Merry?"
Pip looked nervously at his friend. Merry had been unconscious since one of the orcs had slapped him to silence two hours ago, and his head had been lolling like a rag dolls on his shoulders for that whole time. Pip had been worrying enough over that, but the large gash across Merry's forehead, which had only stopped bleeding a few minutes ago, had him even more worried. He'd heard of people taking knocks on the head and waking up entirely different, or worse, not remembering who they were. He knew his cousin's head was hard, but that blow would test just how hard.
"Merry, please wake up!"
There was no answer, and Pip laid his head wearily against the orc carrying him. He'd learned that it was better than trying to hold his head away from the orcs stink at the risk of getting a cricked neck. They'd been running non-stop now for almost three days, with no food and little water other than the foul tasting stuff the orcs tossed to them. If they ever got the chance to escape he didn't know if they would have the strength to get very far before they were caught again, and it was that thought that troubled him the most. Even if he did get loose, there was no way he'd be able to carry Merry to safety with him, and there was no way he'd leave him behind.
Suddenly, they stopped, and the hobbit prepared himself for the worst. They'd knocked Merry out for screaming, and threatened him with death, or worse, if he so much as dared to whisper.
"I smell Man flesh!" the leader of the orcs shouted. The others began sniffing wildly, growling.
"Aragorn," Pip breathed the word, not daring to hope. But it couldn't be anyone else, not this far into the wilderness.
"Quicken pace!" the head orc shouted, and they started running again, faster this time, if the interval between the bounces was any indication. Pip looked to Merry, but his friend was still out. He looked around, wondering what he could do to let Aragorn know where they were going.
"These are not just clasps. They will not come out unless removed by their wearer. The leaves of Lorien fall in the direction their bearer is traveling, so keep them close, Peregrine Took. It would be well of you to remember this if you get lost."
Pip blinked. Galadriel had told him that at the gift giving. Without a second thought, he used his teeth to rip off the clasp and dropped it on the ground, praying it wouldn't get trampled into the mud. With any luck, his friends would find it and know they were still alive.
"Hang on, Merry," Pip whispered, trying to keep from crying. "Please hang on."

"Come on, Gimli!"
Daniel looked back at the dwarf trying desperately to keep up with them, and felt a burst of real pity. After all, he was the shortest person there, and Aragorn wasn't exactly trying to keep it slow for him.
Then again, he wasn't keeping it slow for anyone.
They'd been running almost non-stop for the better part of two days now, and they still hadn't caught sight of the uruk'hi that had taken Merry and Pip. He could feel the panic coursing through their group, knowing that every time they stopped for air or for the hour of sleep they were allowed, the enemy was taking their friends farther and farther away. His lungs were burning, it felt like he was about to throw up, but he couldn't stop.
He wouldn't.
"We will not abandon our friends to torment and death," that's what Aragorn said when they set out, but they're was no way of knowing if that hadn't happened yet. He found solace in the fact that the monsters wouldn't have the time to set the hobbits down and do any real lasting damage.
At last, they stopped. He scanned the area, but there was still no sign of them anywhere. "What's up?"
Sam pointed at Aragorn, who was stretched across a rock outcrop, eyes closed. At first he thought the man had passed out, but no one else seemed concerned, and the look on the man's face was too serious. He was listening.
"They've quickened pace," Aragorn wheezed, standing. "They head towards Isengard," Without another word he was off, and Daniel found himself running again. They were running faster too, and he was thankful he'd finally decided to abandon his heavy jacket and vest earlier. In fact, the longer they stayed in this world, the more they were coming to resemble its people. He and Jack were already sporting day's a few days worth of beard growth, and it looked like Sam's hair, realizing that it wasn't in danger of being cut, had decided to take the opportunity and grow. They wore nothing of their original uniforms but the pants and boots, and at the moment he was tempted to abandon the heavy canvas for soft suede. Their side arms were the only weapons they still had after the battle with the uruk'hi. He and Sam at lost their zat's; Jack didn't know where he'd dropped his. He doubted they would have been able to move nearly as fast if they still had all their gear. Marching with sixty pounds on your back was a whole lot different from running with it. After this, he would never complain when Jack made them run their five miles a week. They'd covered more than quadruple that amount in forty hours, he was sure of it.
"I'm wasted on cross-country!" Gimli grunted from behind. "Dwarves are natural sprinters! Deadly over short distances."
"Save your breath Gimli!" Jack shouted back, throwing the words over his shoulder.
"Save your own, O'Neill! Wait until the shoe is on the other foot before you complain!"
Jack tried to laugh, but ended up coughing. He'd never admit it, but Daniel knew he was killing himself trying to keep up. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say the colonel was worse off than Gimli; he was just better at hiding it. Whenever they stopped he simply collapsed, and accept what water and food he was handed with little more than a glance. You could probably hand him a lizard and he'd suck on it for a minute before he figured out why no water was coming out. Sam was little better. At least she kept standing when they stopped. Teal'c was only just starting to look frazzled, but then again he ran who knew how many miles a day on his own. This could have been little more than a walk in the park for him, but he wasn't really worried about their friends. He knew they would do what it took, even if it meant running themselves to death, to save their friends. He was more worried about Aragorn.
Ever since discovering Merry and Pip had been taken he hadn't stopped, had barely eaten, and hadn't slept. He was pushing them beyond their endurance, cursing every hazard, every obstacle that slowed them down. He wasn't saying it verbally; he'd never do that. But he couldn't stop the way he looked, and he could swear he was this close to killing Gimli if he slowed down. Legolas also looked worried about Aragorn, and he kept shooting him concerned looks when the ranger wasn't looking. He even went as far as to say something to the ranger during one of their breaks. He didn't hear what Legolas said, but the rangers immediate "my health is my own affair" was a hint. He knew the need for speed. Once the hobbits were in Isengard all hope of rescuing them would be gone. At the moment he had a running tab in his brain, in some part that was still capable of appreciating irony, on who was worse under stress: Aragorn or Jack.
It took him another fifteen minutes to decide what he was going to do. The minute they stopped for good he was going to laugh, then throw up, then pass out.
At least, he hoped it would be in that order.
Finally, night fell, and Aragorn called a halt. He saw a flash of silver, and knew that the ranger still held the elven leaf he'd found half trampled in the mud. The country they were entering had been wet, and now they had a trail they could see.
"We rest for an hour," he breathed, looking to where the trail disappeared into the darkness. "Legolas, can you see them?"
The elf shook his head. "They are still too far ahead, but we have been gaining on them. A half hour, and then we must be gone."
He turned to Aragorn and said something, but the other man shook his head and moved away. For the barest of instants Daniel thought that he would go after his friend. Instead, the elf turned towards Gimli.
"Now that has got to be one of the strangest things I've ever seen."
Daniel looked at Jack, who had collapsed next to him. "Them," he said, tipping his chin in the direction of Legolas and Gimli. "When we started this, I could have sworn they hated each other. Now..." Jack trailed off, and both his eyebrows shot into his hair.
Daniel turned around to see what had happened, and paused, probably with the same look of surprise. Gimli and Legolas were talking. They were doing more than that, though. They were...laughing.
Laughing?
"Give them a few more weeks, and they will be fast friends."
Looks like Aragorn was right.

Frodo jerked awake. The dream had been too vivid, too real. He knew what it was. Bilbo used to talk about his aunt Ida, whose husband had died. Even though the old woman had lived for another twenty years she swore, to her dying day, that her husband was only in the next room. When Frodo had asked why, his uncle replied that when people loose someone they love, sometimes their minds try to bring the person back to life. Frodo knew better. There was no way Gandalf could have survived that fall. He didn't even think an elf could have.
"Mr. Frodo, are you all right?"
"Fine Sam," he replied automatically. He wasn't fine. In fact he'd never been as far from fine in his life, even after the death of his parents. He was dying, he knew it. He could feel the Ring stealing his strength, little by little.
Lost?
Shut up shut up shut up He hated this, but he didn't know how to stop it. It wasn't like the Ring talked to him, not in a voice he could hear. There was something though, a language known more in the heart than the head. He could hear it, and even though he didn't know the language, he understood the meaning. He could feel the Ring laughing at them, at him. It always did now, taunted him, gave him glimpses of hope. But then again, sometimes it helped, made him go left when he would have gone right. Warned him about danger, though it didn't specify whether that danger was a rockslide or a gorge. It couldn't be all that bad...
"What do we have left to eat, Sam?" Frodo asked to distract himself. The less he thought about the Ring, the better.
Sam opened his backpack with a grin. "Let's see. Lembas bread, lembas bread, and... more lembas bread." He broke a piece off and handed it to Frodo. " I don't stand by much foreign food, but this elvish stuff isn't that bad."
Frodo had to laugh at that. Even if it were that bad, they still would've had to eat it. It was all they had, and even if they somehow managed to find any food or game in the Emin Muil, he wouldn't have eaten it.
"I suppose we'll be clearing those cliffs today, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, breaking the silence.
We've been trying to 'clear' them for the past day and a half.
"Sure, Sam," he answered, and winced at the harsh cheer in his voice. Sam gave him one of his worried looks, but he turned away and pretended to pack up his bedroll. The Ring thrummed softly at his chest, beating in time with his heart.

They were surrounded.
Teal'c counted the men surrounding them. Thirty-two in all. Even if they had not been running for several days, they still would be unable to take on the force. They rode equines horses he corrected himself, and that gave them a distinct tactical advantage. Their weapons also added to their superior position.
"What business do humans, an elf, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak Quickly!"
The man was clearly in charge of this squadron. Their armor was well worn, several sporting dents and divots which could only have come for swords. These men were regular soldiers. That took away the possibility of using surprise to their advantage. The group would more than likely be used to such tactics, and wouldn't scatter at the first sign of combat.
"You tell me your name, Horse Master, and I'll tell you mine," Gimli said before anyone else could answer.
The rider looked them over before dismounting. He walked towards the dwarf and stopped a few feet away. "I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground.."
In a blur Legolas had drawn his bow. "You would die before your stroke fell."
Teal'c watched the group of men surrounding them. Now that their attention was focused on the elf, it might be possible to attack with some success. Before he could do anything Aragorn put his hand on the elf's bow and lowered it.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, this is Gimli son of Gloin, and Legolas, from the Woodland realm. They are Sam, Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c," he added, nodding to each of them in turn. "We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, its King."

"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." The rider took off his helm, revleaing a young man beneath. "Not even his own kin." At his words the horsemen lowered their spears. The immediate danger had passed, but he didn't doubt that harm could still befall them.
The rider looked to each of them in turn, but returned to Sam. "You would travel with a woman?"
Teal'c fought the anger rising in him. The man's voice was full of amusement. Samantha had proven herself time and again to be a warrior, despite her sex. "She is a warrior worthy of commendation, not amusement," he said.
The man turned back to him. "I have not seen one of your kind before, not this far north. Most of the dark ones stay near the coast."
"We're not from around here," Jack said. Teal'c would have smiled. The colonel had a talent for understatement that often went unappreciated.

The man nodded, accepting the explanation. "I am Eomer, cousin to Thoeden. Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claim lordship over this land. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished." A sadness swept through the men around them, one the banished jaffa could identify with. " The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets," he let his eyes settle on Legolas, and the elf bristeled, but remained silent.

"We are not spies," Aragorn was apparently attempting to act as peacekeeper between the two warriors. "We track a band of Uruk-Hai westward across the plains. They have taken two of our friends captive. Have you seen them?"

Eomer looked shocked. "The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."

Gimli sputtered. "But there were two Hobbits, do you see two Hobbits with them?"

The man looked confused. "You know, Hobbits. Little people, like to talk, like to eat even more," This came from Jack, who was slouching as if unconcerned of their situation. It was a ploy Teal'c had seen the man use several times before to put an enemy off their guard.

"They would be small, only children to your eyes," Aragorn injected, and it was clear that he was concerned. Already Teal'c had scanned the group, and they carried no small ones among them.

The man, Eomer, looked truly sorry. "We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them," He gestured into the distance, where smoke billowed from behind a low hill.

"What!" The colonel sounded livid. "None?" His exclamation was almost dronwed out by an anguished groan from Gimli. "They are dead?"

Eomer nodded. "I am sorry." He turned. "Hasufel! Arod! Tarken! Niand! Blousfurel!" at the command several horses stepped forward. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than the former masters," he turned, and remounted. "Farewell. Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands," his voice was tired, the weight of his circumstances showing even through his strength.

As the riders disappeared over the hills the seven stood staring at each other. None had really imagined that they would be unable to recover their friends. Even he hadn't thought they might be killed so close to freedom.

"Mount!" Aragorn shouted as he swung into his saddle.

"You ever ridden a horse before, Teal'c?" the colonel asked.

Teal'c shook his head. "I have seen it on television, but I have never before ridden an equine."

The colonel sighed. "Carter, you ride with Teal'c until he learns the ropes. Daniel, I know you can ride," he patted him on the shoulder. "Just remember, Teal'c: grip with your thighs and follow the horse."

The jaffa found that mounting the horse was more difficult than actually staying on. The animal was strong, however, and carried his and Samantha's weight with little difficulty.

SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG!!!!!!! I was without the internet for about a month, which meant no research, and no posting. So sorry for the long wait between chapters!!!!!

Now. Thanks so much for reading this!!!!! Special cotton candy thanks goes out to Shanna (x3), Alynna (x2), ElfguyLegolas, Kolinshar Jackie-chan Benito, Elwen half-elven, Vana Everyoung, Kieren BloodBlade she-elf (x3), Taurendil (x2), nefernetera, Curlyro, Colonel Sho, rolo-rooni (x2), dietcokechic, Elvaralind ,Obsidian, Alexandra, ednyadove, Hunter, martin, Kits (x3), warrior, Chris Atola, Kristen, Queen Vegeta, Ivy, Kaitland, ember, tibby, and :P for the great reviews!!! I love you guys.

I'll try to pipe out the next chapters as fast as possible, but I don't know when the next chapter will be up and running so bear with me please. Hope you all had great holidays and that you're doing well!!!!!

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Writegirl