Anastasia and the plot are the only part of this which belongs to me. Everything else belongs to their respective owners; namely J.R.R. Tolkien.

Italics – Thoughts/Thinking

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Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

Chapter 14: Conversations and Strider's Heart

Anastasia

After following Strider down the side of the hill I had just recently sprinted up, he finally began to talk. "If I ask you a question, will ask answer without all the charades?" he whispered as he crouched, inspecting the ground. I watched him for a moment as I was struck with the overwhelming sense of familiarity.

Once more he began to walk, "Well?" No, I thought watching him stumble. "You're really no going to speak?" he persisted. No, I have not spoken a word in three years. I once again mentally replied. "How are you doing that?" Strider questioned, quickly twisting around to look at me, a frustrated expression on his face. Doing what? I questioned tipping my head to the side. "Talking to me . . . with . . . without speaking out loud!" he hissed, his voice lowering even more.

For a moment I stared at Strider, just looking, but understanding this really unnerved him; although I was completely sceptical. Speaking by using my mind, yeah right. Alright, if you insist that I am speaking to you, I though while narrowing my eyes, how many years has it been since I've last spoke?

Disbelief crossed his faced before he hissed the word "Three" and marched off. I stood there for a moment dumbfounded. For some reason there was a connection between the two of us, something linking us together allowing us to speak telepathically.

Slowly, I once again began to follow, my mind troubled by the fact that we were connected, but my inner feline rejoicing in that fact. I wonder if it goes both ways.

I continued to follow Strider throughout the night, watching him as he searched for an unknown object. I followed him into the thickets south of a road where he began gathering the long leaves of a plant with white blooms. As he continued to gather more, I wandered a bit and found another patch. The leaves of the plant, when crushed, released sweet but strong and sharp fragrance which tickled my nose. What could Strider possible want with this plant?

"This is the Athelas plant, it is a healing plant which has great virtues, but over the wounds you and Frodo received it may help little," Strider finally spoke after the hours of silence endured as we traveled. The wound on my arm still had not healed over the hours, a fact that had been worrying me as we traveled. Broken bones healed within three days, so a small and shallow knife wound should easily have healed within hours. I touched the bindings Strider wrapped around the wound frowning as the pain and coldness continued to spread from it.

After gathering what he need, Strider headed back to the hobbits with a much quicker pace. "We need to hurry," he called back as disappeared into the darkness. Ignoring my arm once again, I followed at a light jog.

As we covered the great distance, Strider once again started asking questions. "The large cat who attacked the Nazgul, was that you?" Yes, but what is a Nazgul? Is it the foul creatures that were in Bree then again on top of the hill? "Yes" Strider responded with a breathless chuckle. "Did you know I've been dreaming about you? In both forms I believe." You've been dreaming about me? "Yes. Why can you talk to me through the mind?" I don't know. I've never done it before. What is your name? I asked, hoping to turn the table and ask him questions instead. Ignoring my question Strider asked another his tone becoming wary. "Why were you following me and who do you work for? Why are you interested in the hobbits?" Why shouldn't I follow you? You managed to sneak up on me; I was only returning the favour. As for the hobbits, they needed help, so I lent them a hand. "You didn't answer who you worked for" Strider responded with a grunt. You never answered my question either, but I work for my own thoughts, whims and instincts.

Strider fell silent once again and I gave a silent groan wanting to rattle his teeth around in his head. Once again we travel in silence for a great distance, the creatures of the night and our ragged breathing the only sound I could depict besides the babbling brooks and the wind singing through the trees.

As we reached the base of the hill, in my head I heard: My name is Aragorn. The surprise of Strider-Aragorn talking to me inside my head caused me to stumble. Once getting my feet back under me I tripped over a root, doing an inelegant face-plant into the ground. Aragorn helped me to my feet, after a strangle laugh escaped him, and we ascended the hill towards the hobbits.

We arrived in the dell as the sun began to rise and the sky took on a grey colour. Aragorn began speaking to the hobbits as I inspected Frodo. He did not seem well, smelling of pain and sweat, but also regret. After boiling the leaves of the Athelas plant, Aragorn began bathing Frodo's wound then mine. It lessened the pain and coldness, but my arm continued to take on a lifeless form, becoming useless.

As soon as the daylight was full and Frodo upon the pony with the supplies divided among the five of us, although Aragorn did not wish to give me more weight to carry than the few knifes and clothing I had remaining (Much of it was lost to the forest where I first met the Hobbits), we headed south.

For many days we continued our travels hurrying to get Frodo, who was fading, to help. Besides the first day, we had not seen, heard or felt the foul creatures that followed the hobbits, although we expected to see them at every turn, and around every corner looming out of the shadows.

Frodo was getting worse, as was I. The pain and coldness was increasing spreading from my arm, making the simplest actions hard and my head spin. With every breath I continued to take I could feel my inner beast continue to fight the poison, willing me to live.

Frodo

Next day, early in the morning, they came down to the borders of the Road. Sam and Strider went forward, but they found no sign of any travellers or riders. Here under the shadow of the hills there had been some rain. Strider judged that it had fallen two days before, and had washed away all footprints. No Horseman had passed since then, as far as he could see.

They hurried along with all the speed they could make, and after a mile or two they saw the Last Bridge ahead, at the bottom of a short steep slope. They dreaded to see black figures waiting there, but they saw none. Strider made them take cover in a thicket at the side of the Road, while he went forward to explore.

Before long he came hurrying back, 'I can see no sign of the enemy,' he said, 'and I wonder very much what that means. But I have found something very strange.'

He held out his hand, and showed a single pale-green jewel. 'I found it in the mud in the middle of the Bridge,' he said. 'It is a beryl, an elf stone. Whether it was set there, or let fall by chance, I cannot say; but it brings hope to me. I will take it as a sign that we may pass the Bridge; but beyond that I dare not keep to the Road, without some clearer token.'1

Anastasia

After crossing the Bridge we headed down into a ravine with ruins atop the edges. This land felt foreboding having felt pain and suffering in the past, but there was still a shadow looming over all who walk here.

'Who lives in this land?' Frodo asked breaking the silence which descended upon the group. 'And who built these towers? Is this troll-country?' Troll-country; there are trolls here?

'No!' said Strider. 'Trolls do not build. No one lives in this land. Men once dwelt here, ages ago; but none remain now. They became an evil people, as legends tell, for they fell under the shadow of Angmar. But all were destroyed in the war that brought the North Kingdom to its end. But that is now so long ago that the hills have forgotten them, though a shadow still lies on the land.' The land may have forgotten its people, but it has not forgotten the pain and suffering brought to it.

'Where did you learn such tales, if all the land is empty and forgetful?' asked Peregrin stumbling a bit. 'The birds and beasts do not tell tales of that sort.'

'The heirs of Elendil do not forget all things past,' said Aragorn as he waited for everyone to catch up. 'And many more things than I can tell are remembered in Rivendell.'

'Have you often been to Rivendell?' asked Frodo still perched upon the pony, who was getting fatter over this taxing journey.

'I have,' replied Strider. 'I dwelt there once, and still I return when I may. There my heart is; but it is not my fate to sit in peace, even in the fair house of Elrond.'

You're in love Aragorn; with whom? Fair house of Elrond; where much peace lies? Is this where we are journeying to? My thoughts began to dwindle as once more I focused on putting one foot in front of the other. My injury was taxing to my whole body, but I didn't envy Frodo who rode the pony. He was left with his thoughts, where as I could drown mine out with focusing on following Strider.

Tolkien, J.R.R. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. London: Allen & Unwin, 1954. Print.

The quotes came from the chapters called Flight to the Ford1.

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