I know! I know! I am the worst, most meanest author in the world. I should update more often! The best excuse I can come up with is that I have another story on the go at the moment which I will add soonish : )

Dedicated to – Jennfire, Spirit of a Child, Wolf, Life is but a Metaphor and most especially Trennchi/tomato sauce because she got me motivated… which is a BIG deal.

Chapter 9

Telgeiras, Dasha's guide, did not always lead the way along the banks of the Anduin because, really, there was only one way to go and that was to follow the water. So Dasha would trot ahead, anxiously; her thoughts pinned only to the battle that was to take place not two days ahead. Often the pair would find the great river dropping steadily below their path as they ascended to the height of a ravine, which the great river had carved its way through. Telgeiras would often have them weaving through the maze of dull grey rock which seemed to cap each ravine and just when Dasha would think they had lost the river and had strayed too far – there it was, many leagues below her hooves.

The constant ascending and descending of the cliffs had the pair lagging far behind the fellowship. She was convinced they would never get to Amon Hen before Boromir's Battle (as she had named it in her head) and she wouldn't be able to catch Tom before he (probably) followed Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli after the hobbits.

Dasha was experiencing a feeling kind of like being stuck behind a wall of people intent on walking as slow as possible with no way to get past, and doing everything to resist from walking on their heels or being rude and just barging past. Though normally a sweet-natured girl, she was doing everything in her power to stop herself being rude and agitated towards her guide - Telgeiras was doing this for her after all… but it seemed like they were getting no where! Every forest, every bank and cliff seemed to look the same but the quiet Telgeiras seemed quite confident, calm and collected – which irritated the mare to no end. Their traveling was done mostly in silence, save for Telgeiras politely asking whether she wearied every hour or so – to which the answer was always 'no'.

On the third night Dasha was too tired to search for good ground to graze and instead lay beside where Telgeiras sat on a dead branch looking tense and worried. They had just descended the largest and, if Telgeiras were correct, the last ravine on their trek towards Amon Hen… and yet he seemed uphappy. To Dasha's great annoyance he lit no fire that night, but she swallowed her grumpiness and instead nudged his shoulder with her nose in an attempt to comfort him.

"I'll keep watch for tonight." He replied his dark eyes making out her form in the night.

As the mare closed her eyes to sleep and the flighty Telgeiras avidly searched the surrounding darkness – miles down the river a dark wolf single-handedly caught his first meal.

When Dasha wearily opened her eyes she wondered whether she had really opened them at all. It was unbelievably dark, and her skin prickled and quivered in sudden fear.

"I smell flesssshhh."

Her heart suddenly erupted into frantic spasms triggered by her almost frenzied state. The voice rasped and wheezed and boomed as though it were coming from deep lungs doused in mucus. She recognized the sound but couldn't admit it to her self. Uruk-kai! Only meters away somewhere in the blackness.

"FLESH?!" One roared in excitement and Dasha lay silently close to fainting in fear.

"Mmmmm - man-flesh."

"Not man-flesh, beast-flesh!" The Uruk sounded furious that the other had got it wrong.

"KEEP MOVING!" Roared a voice in the distance.

"This could be the man-flesh we get to kill!" The Uruk replied.

An enormous roar sounded and the sound of heavy feat running came to Dasha's ears – reminding her something like the sound a stampeding bull would make.

"BEAST-FLESH NOT MAN-FLESH I SMELL, NOW MOVE BEFORE I KILL YOU."

Nothing else was uttered after that furious roar and they thudded away running down the river. Dasha lay trembling for a long time after they had left, feeling terrified and exhausted.

"Dasha?" Telgeiras' voice, which sounded so sweet after such an experience, came from her right a while later. She felt his warm hand suddenly on her trembling neck. "They caught me unaware. I had to move away, for if the chief Uruk had smelt me we both would have been done for. I am sorry to have left you." He gathered his voice a little more then continued. "They have come from Isengard; they cut infront of us and will track the fellowship along the Anduin. I estimate fifty head – we must not arrive much after these foul creatures, for Aragorn will need our aid before too long!"

The sun rose and they were on their way again. Tom was hoping he were mistaken – that maybe he had the amount of days the fellowship traveled the Anduin all wrong. Then he would have a few more days to prepare himself for the day to come. It was a tell-tale sign, however, when Legolas, who was paddling the boat ahead of his, nervously jerked his head to the shore from time to time to scan the forest.

It was only midmorning when Aragorn gave the signal to pull ashore. Tom wished he was just as blind as the others about what they were going into and he wished, most of all, that Dasha were with him – only she could relate to his foreboding. As they unpacked what little they had out of their boats Tom could hear Legolas relaying his fears onto Aragorn. Just listen, Aragorn. Please! Tom thought - but Aragorn brushed aside the elves wisdom and decided they would wait until nightfall. Tom paced along the riverside as Pippin and Gimli sat eating.

"What be the matter, wolf?" Asked Gimli looking up from his meal. Tom would have felt offended if it had been anyone else calling him 'wolf'.

"Nothing, nothing." He couldn't help but be frustrated at the dwarf's ignorance, "I just think that –"

"Yes?"

"Never mind. Don't worry about it," he mumbled and continued pacing. The dwarf raised his bushy eyebrows at Pippin in a baffled expression and then turned his attention to Merry who was looking quite perturbed after a surveying of the group.

"Where's Frodo?"

It was set in stone now. Those words were like a definite signal of what was to come.

The company seemed to move and haze past Tom they began the search for Frodo and as he stood watching everything, terror rising in his throat. Five, ten minutes past and when he finally snapped into reality there was no one to be seen. Silence rang in his ears and then, quite slowly at first, a foul stench came to the wolves' nose.

A distant roar came echoing through the forest from somewhere up the slope, following a faint clanging of metal. Shaking himself from his terror he forced himself into action and began up the slope, his ears prinked and alert. He could hear the frantic whizzing of Legolas' bow and he picked up the smell of blood. Everything changed then. The stench of blood had his instincts buzzing in an instant. He had no fear now. A small more humane part of Tom was horrified at his sheer lust for blood and fearlessness but at the same time he knew he needed his predator instincts in a situation such as this.

He spotted Gimli through the trees swinging his axe at an Uruk before he was blotted from view as another Uruk swung in from the right. The Uruk spotted the wolf blasting towards him, its black eyes glowing manically and razor teeth glaring in lust for flesh. The huge wolf took advantage of the Uruk's surprise and with a mighty spring was on his chest and had him falling to the ground. For a brief second, as the wolf stood triumphantly on the Uruk's chest, he seemed to observe hideous creature under his claws. Then with a snarl the wolf took the life as his jaw clamped the Uruk-kai's neck.

But he was unable to enjoy his victory as Uruk's came pouring from above. Tom hurled his body at the next creature. The Uruk reacted quicker then he expected and swung his cudgel. The wolf felt the blade whip through the hair on his neck, so narrowly missing flesh. He suddenly realized the only way he could inflict damage on these beasts would be through surprise and cunning – if an Uruk had even but a few seconds to prepare for an attack, it would always win. Tom dodged a few more swings before there was a mighty cry from the rocky outcropping above him. A ginger blur launched himself onto the back of the Uruk and swung his axe into its skull. Gimli whooped as the beast came crashing to the ground, retrieving his axe he cried, "You, wolf, drive all fear from my bones!" and went crashing away down the hill after more prey.

Encouraged, Tom pressed his form into the shadow of the ledge above him; his eyes gleaming with pleasure as a hulking figure of an Uruk came past him. Silently and without any heroic roar he fell onto its back and once more sunk his teeth into the unsuspecting Uruk's neck. He leapt off the body and continued the trend on three more senseless creatures before a deep throbbing call came wafting through the forest.

The horn of Gondor!

Galadriel's voice seemed to whisper about very faintly in Tom's head but he ignored its warning and started down the hill towards Boromir's call. The pace was agonizing – he could not go carelessly, for not only had the call drawn help but it had also drawn the enemy and he knew he must be careful not to become an easy target. The wolf slunk from tree to tree and, quite suddenly, he was there.

Not ten meters away stood the mighty Boromir working furiously to keep the two hobbits behind him from harm like a protective father. Massive Uruk came to him from left and right, yet still he fended them off and their corpses fell at his feet. Tom was unable to move, think or respond as - right on cue - the chief Uruk appeared from over the rise and in his hand that grisly metal cross-bow. As Boromir faithfully swung away the Uruk pulled back the cross-bow and released the black arrow.

Yes Boromir would die - Tom told himself - but everything would not be lost for Frodo had succeeded in destroying the Ring in the end!

Who was he kidding? He couldn't watch this. He could save a life.

The distressed cries of the hobbits filled the wolves' ears as he slunk along the scrub, his eyes pinned on the filthy creature before him. There came a silence and the only thing that could be heard was the creaking of the cross-bow as another arrow was pulled back ready for firing…. An enraged cry came from a massive wolves' mouth as he threw himself through the air and onto a monstrous Uruk. The arrow was released and Tom's heart missed a beat within him as he heard the hobbits give another anguished cry – the arrow had found its target!

This Uruk was unlike the rest – Tom realized that straight away. It did not fall down under his weight, or seem surprised. Instead he felt an agonizing tug at his coat as the beast flung the wolf off his chest and to the ground. The wolf hit the ground on his shoulder and lay motionless. His eyes were squeezed closed in feign injury, listening for the movements of the mighty Uruk. The hot putrid breath of the Uruk was rustling his coat. He was so close. That familiar creak of the cross-bow sounded and Tom frantically rolled to avoid the arrow. Leaping to his feet he pounced for the nearest body part. His jaws found its hand. Clamping down, Tom felt the crack of a breaking bone as the Uruk howled in agony. The Uruk's other hand formed a fist and came crashing down into the wolves' back.

All at once two different things came to Tom. A petrified neigh came from far-away and had him so completely astounded that he lost his grip on the Uruk. As the neigh sounded Tom spotted Aragorn racing towards him and with a cry meet the beasts' blade. He regained his composure and, using the last of his energy, latched himself onto the creatures thigh, snarling. Aragorn took the distraction and with a mighty swing of his sword he cut the Uruk's head clean off his shoulders.

Aragorn took a great sigh of relief and nodded to the wolf who was staring past him to the clearing. Aragorn turned to see Boromir on his knees, lightly tracing one of the two arrows embedded in his torso.

"The little ones! They are gone - they took them!" Boromir sobbed as Aragorn reached his side, "And Frodo! I tried to take the Ring from him!"

The wolf looked over Aragorn's shoulder – there were two less arrows then should have been there. Perhaps he would survive yet.

"All is lost – the White City will fall and I go to be with my forefathers."

"Nay," Aragorn said softly, "there is still hope; it is not your time."

"We will see," Boromir closed his eyes and fell back onto Aragorn's lap, no longer conscious.

Tom's heart lurched, "Dead?"

"Nay – but he will be should we not reach aid before long. I fear it will take too long to reach Edoras... Boromir will die if we do not find way faster then by foot."

I may be that faster way, said a voice in Tom's head. That voice made him weak.

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