Author's Note: Thank you to all of my reviewers once again. I appreciate these respectful reviews very much and they are always welcomed. Let me just say that this chapter was really hard to get started for some reason. That's part of why it took a little longer than some of the other updates. Also, I haven't had much time to write with my summer course.

Sadly, not my best chapter. Once again, please don't flame me. I haven't written anything serious with these characters before, so I'm not very experienced with this type of writing. This chapter is basically Movie-Verse and a little AU as far as certain things are concerned. There will be more of (the very awesome) Legolas later on.

Note that the "battle" discussed in this chapter refers to the Siege of Minas Tirith/Battle of Pelennor Fields.

Chapter 5

Word from Mordor

A few hours before dawn in Minas Tirith, Pippin Took was shaken awake from a dream. It had been a bizarre and eerie dream, distant as though he was looking into a Palantír. Someone had been screaming, crying out names that he certainly knew, but he couldn't decide whose voice this was.

Then, he had seen a small figure with its back to him, crouching, with a pool of blood gathering around it, but, once again, Pippin had been unable to tell who this was.

There had been a sense of foreboding about the dream, almost as if it was a premonition. It had been quite frightening and the moment Pippin felt someone touch him, he sat up in bed, breathing heavily. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim candle-light and saw Merry bending over him.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

Merry shook his head. "Strider just came," he replied. "He wants us to meet him and the others in the throne room… other than that, I really don't know what's going on."

"He didn't say anything else?" said Pippin, confusedly.

"No," said Merry. "But it sounded like an urgent matter."

Wearily, Pippin rose and followed his cousin out into the hallway. A short while later, Pippin asked, "Do you think they might finally have news?"

Merry sighed. "I'm not sure," he said. "The scouts that went out to the borders near Mordor… it doesn't look as if they're coming back. But if they do, well, what are they going to say? 'We didn't see anything of the Ring-bearer and his companion.' And we'll be lucky if that's all they have to tell. What if…"

His voice trailed off. Both he and Pippin were thinking of the same awful possibility. The one that they and everyone else in the Fellowship dreaded.

"He's alive," said Pippin, trying to sound certain. "Both of them are alive."

However, as the days drew by, his confidence was slowly fading. There were times when he felt like a child insisting that some creature of myths existed, going against all sense, but there was no sign other than the recovery of corpses that could make him accept that Frodo and Sam were dead.

Merry and Pippin reached the door of the throne room and knocked. A solemn looking guard admitted them without a word and they made their way over to the group of people gathered further down the hall. Gandalf was there, as well as Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn and a few other men.

The first peculiar thing that the hobbits noticed was that one of the men looked rather unkempt, as though he had just travelled a long way through great hardship. Neither of the hobbits had seen him before.

They came to notice what was truly unanticipated, however, when one of the men moved aside a little to reveal a short figure, the height of a child, in the middle of the crowd. It did not take Merry and Pippin long to realize who this was, and in an instant, Pippin had rushed forward.

"Sam!" he exclaimed as he flung his arms around the hobbit; Merry hurried over to join them. "I never would have expected to see you here, but it's a great joy indeed!"

"Never expected to come here and see you at this time either," replied Sam. "But I'm glad I'm here."

"Well," said Merry. "It's certainly good to have a pleasant surprise for once in the midst of all this."

"Indeed," said Sam, smiling.

It was then that over the delight of finally seeing his companion again, Merry noticed that Sam's happiness seemed forced, as though a heavy despondency was upon him. The same seemed to apply to the rest of the people around them. They looked on, as though they had something terrible to say, but were trying to decide whether or not it should wait.

In fact, Merry had felt in his heart that there was something terribly wrong the moment he'd seen Sam standing there, alone.

"Sam," asked Merry, hesitantly. "Where is Frodo?"

"Why didn't I ask him this as soon as I saw him?" he wondered. But he knew the reason: he was afraid of what he would hear. He almost didn't want to hear the answer to his question.

All hints of cheerfulness left Sam at that moment. He did not answer, but instead bowed his head as though in grief. Merry and Pippin stared at each other, both with the same worry and apprehension, then at those surrounding them. Aragorn came forward.

"We were just discussing Frodo when you came," he said, as though these words were a burden to utter.

"He's not…" Pippin started to say faintly.

"No," said Aragorn. "Frodo is not dead, but captured, imprisoned by the Enemy."

A heavy silence followed as the dreadful news was absorbed. Pippin's recent dream came back to him in a vivid spark and as the true awfulness of Frodo's fate pierced into his heart and mind, he began to sob.

Merry was wearing a stunned look of horror, trapped for a moment in his own thoughts. He could scarcely imagine what kind of torture Frodo had gone through. How long had it been? A few weeks, probably, or perhaps even longer… and his kin and companions had been oblivious to the fact the whole time! But it had been innocent lack of awareness, not cold and hardhearted by any means. Merry hoped Frodo knew this.

Once he was able to tear his mind from such pondering, he went over to Pippin and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. While the latter continued to weep, Merry turned to Aragorn again and asked, tentatively, "How?"

"You came in just as Iorlas here was telling the full tale," replied Aragorn gesturing to the disheveled man Merry and Pippin had noticed earlier. "Please continue."

"As I have told you, my lord," said the man called Iorlas. "I do not believe that my company and I traveled into the Land of Mordor itself. We were simply keeping watch over the far edges of Gondor, where we were stationed shortly after your coming. We were barely near the slopes of the Epeth Dúath, which is why it came as a true shock when we heard the Enemy's servants draw near. Orcs, coming down from over the mountains, and a few men from the east as well, if I'm not mistaken."

"How many?" asked Aragorn.

"I cannot give you the exact number," said Iorlas. "Twenty or so attacked myself and those with me, but that is not the full count, for the men of Gondor with me were scattered in groups. Yet, twenty or double the amount for every small camp would be a miniscule part of Mordor's armies. For every that we killed two more would come creeping from the hills."

"They've obviously been busy since the last fight," muttered Gimli.

"Indeed," said Iorlas. "The blow of the Enemy's last defeat has made him no weaker. Alas, the same does not pertain to us. Fifty of us there were out on the mountain side that day, but only I and the Halfling, Samwise whom my men came across a few days earlier, lived to come to the White City.

"We had managed to find our way out of the struggle. We would have surely been caught in it again if fate had not been so kind to us. It was then that we came across one whose kind I would never have dreamed of seeing alone, so near Mordor: an elf! She had come so quietly that we barely noticed her until she was barely two yards from us."

At this, Legolas lifted his head slightly in heightened curiosity and an air of astonishment and slight skepticism rose through the assembly, but no one interrupted.

"I drew my sword but made no use of it, for she did not appear to wield a weapon," Iorlas went on. "She made no delay in telling us her errand and although the message was quite cryptic for some part, I remember her words clearly.

"'We do not have much time so I shall only tell you what you truly need know,' she said. 'I am held in the trust of your foes, and the Enemy would have me to kill or capture both of you and any others I find under similar allegiance. Let them believe that I'll do so, but I resist this once, or rather I do what he would desire and add a slight twist as to change the outcome.

"'I offer you now a chance to escape with your lives in the hope that you will, in turn, help to spare another from further suffering. The one I speak of is the Ring-bearer. I'm sure you have heard of him, for he was given the great task of destroying the One Ring… a task that has been hindered by vile events. Ai! The Halfling, Frodo, was caught by a host of orcs, a month ago perhaps, and has been captive in the prisons of the Dark Tower since. I have proof of this; some may recognize this blade.'"

(Iorlas gestured to the small blade on the floor; it was of Elvish making, with fine writing and markings along the blade.)

"'The Ring, however, (or Isildur's Bane as some call it) was not found with him; your hopes of victory linger. Give word to Minas Tirith of this, for the task cannot be achieved by another bearer. It has been foreseen; aid must be sent to him, for I alone cannot save him. Tell Gondor to send a sign when they are prepared to send someone to fulfill this duty.'

"She told us of a path our foes had not yet reached. We made haste towards it. That was the last we saw of the elf."

With a long sigh, Iorlas drew his tale to a close and the others deliberated what they'd just heard. There were many questions, but it was unlikely that either of the witnesses had the answers, and all inquisitions seemed to lead to further enquires.

"Did the elf give you her name?" asked Legolas. The matter was of course of immense interest to him.

"Yes," replied Iorlas. "Although I cannot remember it exactly… it was a rather long Elvish name."

"You have a strong mind for remembering the words of others, but not for names I suppose," said Gimli.

"Well…" said Iorlas.

"Begging your pardon, sir," interjected Sam, who was finally pulling himself together a little. "But I recall her name. It was Célebriän of Nargothrond."

"Célebriän?" said Legolas. "Are you sure?"

"Samwise is right," said Iorlas. "That was what she told us."

"Is there something wrong?" asked Aragorn, noticing that the elf was quite unnerved by this news.

"This is a strange fate," said Legolas. "For I knew Célebriän long ago, in the forests of Mirkwood. She and a few others travelled south once, and I heard nothing of their Company after they left. I had guessed that they had fallen victim to the growing shadow… but this elf Iorlas speaks of seems to match the companion I remember. She did bear the gift of foresight, although she did not have the ability to wield it completely; she got her brief glimpses from others of higher power."

"It appears that your assumption was correct," said Gandalf, who had been silently listening to the conversation, pondering the circumstances. "But the events that followed were most unusual, and the outcome even more so."

"An elf in the service of the Enemy," Aragorn said thoughtfully. "It seems that we may have gained an ally and a spy without even speaking to them!"

"Greater reason to question their true allegiance," said Gimli. "What proof do we have that she seeks to 'add a twist to change the outcome' of the Enemy's plan? It is more than likely that she is merely doing exactly what he wishes: arranging for us to send our forces on a rescue mission to Mordor, so that he can crush us all at once. A servant of the Enemy does not choose to defy him on a whim. It seems to me that we have more reason to doubt this Célebriän than to trust her."

"And there may very well be strong reasons to believe her," said Gandalf. "But, a few more questions must be answered. I pose the first inquiry to Samwise and Iorlas: Did Célebriän specifically speak of Frodo's condition or what has happened to him at all?"

"She did," said Iorlas. "She emphasized that he has gone through much torment at the hands of the Enemy's servants since his capture. She said that he is starving and both his legs are broken. He apparently has various other injuries… it sounds as though he is half dead already. I found it unusual that she mentioned the details when we were so pressed for time, especially details that would dissuade some from bothering to rescue this Halfling."

"She did sound quite concerned to me if that means anything," said Sam. "She sounded mighty earnest also. I don't reckon a servant of the Enemy would speak that way. I remember Mr. Frodo saying that he imagined a servant of the Enemy would sound sweet, but feel foul. That's not what I felt from Célebriän if I'm any judge of character."

"But are we to judge simply on our rough impression of her?" Gimli asked. "I do not mean to be unjustly dubious. I only wish to avoid walking into a trap."

"And that is not unjust by any means, Master Dwarf," said Gandalf. "Iorlas and Samwise had a brief encounter with Célebriän, but it seems that there is one here who may better know her true manner of speech and demeanor. What say you, Legolas?"

Legolas had been silently debating the matter. It was very hard to draw any final decision as this was quite a paradox to him.

"Célebriän was honorable when I knew her," he said. "And I do believe that I know her well enough to tell her intentions. Although the circumstances could not be more different, she sounds quite as earnest as I remember her. I remember her behavior when she had a secret to conceal, and it does not match the most recent report. If only I knew how changed she is now. Then, perhaps, I could make more certain judgment."

"Longer contemplation will not get us any further on this subject, which is only a part of the larger dilemma" said Aragorn. "What shall we do about Frodo?"

"I have felt for a while an inkling that he was alive, but something had gone amiss," said Gandalf.

"We've all seen the token Célebriän gave," said Aragorn. "I do not think we need to deliberate whether he is imprisoned or not. This piece fits perfectly with what we know. We must now choose our next move in this war."

"We cannot run blindly into Mordor to save him," Gandalf said. "Not with the Eye and the great armies."

"We would need a diversion," said Aragon. "Maybe one that attacks from two points. Meanwhile, a small group could sneak in, unseen… but we do not have strength of arms to carry out this plan so soon after battle. It will take time... it seems we have no choice but to wait."

"Wait?!" said Merry. The assembly turned to him in surprise; the hobbit had remained quiet for most of the discussion.

"So, we are to do nothing?" he exclaimed.

"No," said Aragorn; this decision pained him also, but it was what had to be done. "We just have to plan more and wait until the proper time comes, and that time is not now, but I promise that we will try to help Frodo as soon as we can."

"But he'll be dead by then!" Merry was nearly shouting now.

"They won't kill him," said Legolas, slowly. "I have heard of the ways of the Enemy; He will not be merciful enough to kill Frodo. The Enemy wants to punish the Ring-bearer. He does not plan for Frodo to die until… until it's all over, and that won't be for a while."

"How long?" asked Merry.

The elf hesitated for the answer was yet another grim prospect. He'd heard of the Dark Power's torture lasting for a year or more. Sighing, he looked at Gandalf, who nodded.

"I think it may be better if you and Master Peregrin went to get some more rest," said the wizard. "This meeting is not likely to end soon, and I'm sure that Iorlas and Master Samwise are exhausted."

"He'll just suffer more then," said Pippin suddenly, almost as though he was talking to himself. "I heard him screaming for us."

"Pippin," said Merry. "What do you mean?"

"I…I thought it was just a silly dream," Pippin stammered; the most frightening details of the dream were becoming clearer. "A meaningless nightmare, but… but I saw Frodo. I know it was him now. I couldn't see the face… I couldn't really make out the voice at first, but he was crying… someone had hurt him and he was calling for Strider and Gandalf and Sam… and the rest of us, also."

"It wasn't re-" Merry stopped himself before he finished the word. He couldn't dismiss Pippin's story as a mere fantasy when something all too similar could be happening as they spoke.

"Let's go, Pip," he said, quietly. "Try to get a bit more sleep."

"It doesn't feel right," muttered Pippin, as his cousin tried to usher him out of the hall. "Just leaving him…"

"It doesn't feel quite right to me either," said Merry. "But there doesn't seem to be any truly 'right' choice."