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Anything recognizable, and a few things un, belong to Pet Fly and the Big Man

I stood across from Strider as we both kept watch by the window. I may have had my doubts about his name, about what we were doing, about the future, but I couldn't fault the man for doing it. He genuinely cared for the little hobbits. Hell, so did I – something about them set all my protective instincts on edge. I was getting a headache from turning all my senses up as far as I dared, but I couldn't not watch with all I had. A nervous energy pulsed in my veins, driven by the fact that I knew something was coming – and my panther could feel it too. It was laying on the floor between the two beds, making no noise but I could see its yellow eyes glinting as it kept up a wary surveillance. The tension that thrummed along my nerves banished any drowsy eyes on my part as well, which worked out because there were only two beds in the room and the hobbits had already divvied them up – Merry and Pippin on one bed with Frodo and Sam on the other. I smiled slightly at their startling resemblance to a bunch of kids sacked out after a hard day playing. Any amusement I felt was sucked away at my next thought; what had actually tired them out, of course, was a hard day's walk and the stress of keeping up their guards. I sighed and stared out the window once again, when a strange sound reached my ears.

I cocked my head, listening harder to try and sort through the noise. "What? What is it?" Strider asked in a low tone of voice, but it was almost too loud in my ears. I winced and made a vague shushing motion at him. He looked at me impatiently, but stayed quiet. Finally, it clicked. "Hoofbeats," I answered softly. Noticing his impatient look was still in place, I decided I'd answered too softly. "Hoofbeats," I said, a little louder, and winced when my own voice hurt my ears. His eyes had already gone back to the window, probing the darkness outside. It wasn't all that dark to me, but I suppose it would be all but impenetrable to him. He stilled as the sound of hoofbeats reached his ears too. As the hoofbeats grew louder and louder, my panther stood and joined us at the window. Just as it peered over the sill, I heard someone shouting. The gatekeeper, I recalled, even as his terrified cry was cut off my a harsh band and some nasty crunching noises. The sounds had my hands over my ears – they were so damn loud! - and startled the hobbits awake.

"What's happening?" Frodo asked, fear thick in his voice. I can't answer – my head is screaming, every sound too loud, every smell assaulting my nose, my clothes feel like they're abrading away most of my skin. Shit, what a time to spike I think frantically, trying to get my senses under control even as my head pounds and my stomach rolls. The sound of the riders dismounting sends waves of agony through my head, but I manage to glance out the window. I got a glimpse of nine figures cloaked in black before the world changed.

I was in the familiar blue jungle, and my senses no longer hurt me. I noted, in dreamlike passing, that I was the panther; I twitched my tail and peered at the nine intruders in MY jungle. They weren't in black though – they were all white, and I wished I couldn't see them so clearly. They looked like all the horrifying pictures of the Holocaust all rolled up into nine. Lipless, noseless faces grimaced out from under greasy, twisted strands of hair and corrupted crowns. What they were wearing might have been considered fine once, but they were all in rags now, hanging limply from skeletal frames with every tear exposing pockmarked flesh. I drew my lips back in a soundless snarl, but I couldn't attack them now. They outnumbered me, and the other half of my soul was missing. I backed away until they vanished behind the jungle foliage that rapidly reverted to the room where we were all currently residing. The hobbits were eyeballing me strangely, but Strider spoke before they could ask any questions "Quiet! Listen!" Almost involuntarily, my hearing extended as far as I dared. Metal-booted footsteps were progressing towards the room we had recently vacated – leaving behind a little surprise that would hopefully discourage our pursuers. As the footsteps ceased, I heard the steely hiss of swords being removed from their sheathes – though the sound was somehow cold, icier than the winds that blew across my city in the winter. In an almost silent fury, the...whatever they were stabbed the lumps on the bed, again and again. I smirked to myself as I heard the feathers fly and saw them look around in confusion. Realization seemed to dawn, then...

PAIN. INTENSE PAIN. Agony ripped through my head as they screeched their fury. I might have screamed, but I couldn't hear myself. I covered my ears, but I could still hear that awful screeching. I felt something hard strike my knees, then my side, and realized I must have fallen. I concentrate on the feel of the wood on the back of one hand, encouraging the blank nothingness that soon overcame me. Oblivion had to be better than this hideous pain. And then I knew no more for awhile.

I tried to grab Jim as he fell, but I wasn't quite fast enough. The shrieking Riders had already departed, but he didn't remove his hands from his ears. "Whats wrong with him?" asked Pippin nervously. "His eyes are staring right through me." I glanced sharply at the young hobbit, but when I managed to get him rolled over on to his back, I saw Pippin was correct. Jim's eyes were open, but there was nothing behind them. His pupils didn't expand or contract as I wave my hand over them, and he didn't blink when I snapped my fingers. In fact, if I hadn't known better, I would have said he was dead. A thought struck me – how did I know better? Quickly, I found the pulse at his throat. It was almost the same as when I had come on that first time in the forest. In fact, it was almost precisely the same; when I first found it it was weak, and thready, but it grew stronger the longer I kept my fingers in place. I finally removed my fingers when he took a deep, shuddering breath and his eyes slipped closed. "Jim. Jim!" I said, shaking him gently. "What happened?" He groaned, and scrubbed at his eyes. "Must have zoned. That's twice in as many days, damn it." He groaned again, and levered himself off the floor. "Gotta stop using my senses so much," he muttered as he stretched.

I frowned. What would senses have anything to do with anything? A man had his senses, and used them to move safely about in this world. Granted, some had better ones than others, and an Elf's senses were superior to any Man's. I could not understand, but decided not to press the issue as Jim snagged one of the packs and a blanket and settled himself down at the foot of Pippin and Merry's bed. The hobbits looked askance, but could not really object. We would all need as much sleep as we could get, come morning. Following Jim's example, I grabbed another pack and my cloak and settled myself under the window – just in case.