Chapter X: Careful

Frodo and Merida had been wandering the rocky borders of Emyn Muil for days. The great black tower of Mordor loomed in the distance, as if to taunt them.

Before long, a slim, rocky path that seemed to lead them towards their dark destination caught Merida's eye. She immediately looked over her shoulder, ready to call out to her companion, who was several feet behind her.

"Frodo!"

He looked up, walking slowly in her direction as he scrutinized the surroundings before him.

"I think this path could bring us closer to the black gate!"

Frodo came and stood next to her as he stared out at the stony, stick thin bridge before them.

"Is there a way around?"

"Not unless we go around for miles - and the sooner we get to Mordor, the sooner we'll be able to destroy that ring of yours."

"I don't think it's safe, Merida."

"Come on, we'll be fine! I'll even show you!"

"Merida-!"

Without a second thought, she stepped on that sliver of a bridge and began walking heel to toe.

Frodo's heart pounded as he watched her walk at least a quarter of the way with the grace of a dancer.

Suddenly, Merida gasped as her foot trembled and slipped slightly off to one side. Her arms were now flailing at her sides. Frodo immediately ran across the bridge as quickly as he could while maintaining his balance until he was mere inches behind her, firmly grasping her waist to ensure she didn't fall off. Startled, Merida gasped at the sudden touch before twirling her head over her shoulder. Her face immediately softened once she realized it was Frodo and breathed a sigh of relief. Together, with no small amount of caution, they took several slow, little steps. Merida grasped at his hands, which were still locked in place on her waist, as though they would offer even more security if she held them there.

Alas, it did not. Several steps later, it was Frodo's turn for his foot to slip off the ledge. Seconds later, the only thing that was preventing him from tumbling to some terrible fate was his viselike grip on the thin strip of stone that he had walked on. Merida instantly followed him in his fall and was now clinging on to him for dear life, clawing at his cloak, his coat, his vest, his shirt - anything attached to him that had even a remote chance of securing her hold. A few moments later, they both heard the last sound they wanted to hear: ripping fabric.

Merida frantically shifted her grasp and took a firm hold around his waist. Unfortunately, gravity wasn't working in either of their favors - Merida still slipped closer to what she was sure was a great fall, inch by terrifying inch accompanied by the sounds of further tearing.

Frodo himself was now hanging on to the ledge for dear life. His clammy palms threatened to slip off it at any moment. He desperately tried to grab the most stable surface he could - alas, to no avail. It took several slow, painful seconds for him to lose his grip completely and send them both tumbling to whatever awaited them below.

The landing thud was quick and unexpected. After getting over the initial shock, both of them began to rise to their feet and realized that neither of them were badly injured. The only real casualties were Frodo's shirt and outer vestments, which now hung in tatters as though ravaged by a warg. He extended his hand to Merida and helped her the rest of the way up.

They were both gathering their things from the clattered mess on the ground when Frodo felt a sudden, sharp and familiar pain in his shoulder.

He tried to brave through it as he picked up the last of his belongings to some avail - barely.

Merida immediately noticed the grimace on his face as his hand instinctively went to his shoulder. She was suddenly thankful that she'd watched him pluck bunches of Kingsfoil and stashed some of her own while they were still in the lusher parts of Middle Earth.

"It's that shoulder again, isn't it?"

He nodded silently, almost as though in defeat.

"We need to find shelter soon. It's getting dark."

Merida immediately began to scan her surroundings, looking for a local source of water as well as a place to sleep for the night.

After a few moments, she spotted what seemed to be a small pond and hesitantly walked towards it, keeping her bow and arrows at hand.

Once she reached the edges, she warily scanned her surroundings, a good part of her expecting some sort of monster or ambush to leap out from the shadows. She continued to do so as she carefully filled her canteen - only to find nothing else amiss.

"Merida...!"

As if on cue, she closed the canteen and headed towards the sound of Frodo's voice, which led to a cavernous cave not too far away. It was getting dark- and she had a ring bearer to attend to.