Author's Notes: Back again. This chapter is a little depressing then again it does kind of mean something. It's linked to the past/presebt/probably future mistakes of the real works. Hope you like it.

Why The Anduin Cries at Númenor's Gates

That night I slept without dreams only a white light. We set off early in the morning. The boats were rowed away from the Eastern shore. I carried on my sketching with Horus looking over my shoulder like a nosey child. Gimli caught back up with sleep once again and Legolas rowed the boat in silence.

We rowed threw a wide ravine, with great rocky sides to which clung, upon shelves and in narrow crevices, a few thrawn trees. Anduin had made this channel long ago. The channel between cliff faces began to run faster and became rough.

I looked down at the water and saw the reflective faces Water Spirits. Their watery black holes for eyes flashed in the water. Their hands reached out of the water and rocked all of the boats side to side, back and forth! There was a crackling sound as Horus took to the skies in fear of drowning.

"What is this delivery!" Boromir shouted as he pulled his oar away from a Water Spirit.

Legolas and Aragorn were also tugging their oars in. "They're Water Spirits of Anduin's Ravine of Gonath!" I heard Aragorn shout. "The Darkness must have taken them"

The scene soon became clear. These were not rogue Water Spirits. They were trying to warms us. I could hear their cries of worry faded behind the louder sound of fast moving waters. "Their scared! This isn't devilry, it's a warning. Listen beyond the water!" I cried.

I noticed a flicker of light to my left. I looked to the light and found a ridge on the western cliff that had a thin layer of water running over it. Stood upon this ridge were two translucent forms that resembled of two boys. The two boys were dressed in what looked like sets of armour with their house's crest of a leaf. Transulcent swords hung at their sides. The smallest boy was hugging the older boy that looked about 15 or maybe 16. The smallest boy looked about 7 years of age.

The other member's of the Fellowship followed my eyes to the two young Water Spirits. Aragorn bowed his head to the two boys. "Tristain and Francis, sons of Lord Wallon, drowned by Evil Men in the waters of Anduin." He said gravely.

People killed by unjust means in water or a body of a murdered in water sometimes taken on by other Water Spirits and taken away from the pain of the deaths. They would turn to Water Spirits. But, with this change still stayed the memories of their deaths and the lives they once had. At first there was only ever one for each natural water source and then they created more Water Spirits from those killed by unjustly by water or found dead in water who were innocent.

From what I could tell from Aragorn'd words, most these Water Spirits were made in the time of Sauron or Morgoth. Sometimes the Evil Men would raid villages and strong holds and take prisoners. These prisoners would be put into groups. The strong men would be made into slaves and the rest would be drowned in rivers, streams, brooks, lakes and so on or sometimes they were killed unjustly out of water then thrown into it to get rid of the body.

Their calls became louder. "Not that way, it leads to the poisoned land! Not that way! You must stop!" The Water Spirits pleaded like violent torrents of water running down a waterfall. Most of the voices were young children. The Companies' hearts laid heavily in our chests. "Stop! Or we shall turn your boats over and make you stop!" They warned.

We all knew these were not lies. "We are on a mission. Ask your friends from Rivendell. We are trying to end the Evil in south." It was Sam who spoke up. Finally, the lad had got some more confidence.

The brothers looked doubtfully at each other then at Aragorn. A placid smile spread across the eldest's face who was named Tristain. His little brother, Francis looked puzzled then smiled brightly. They both got down on one knee and kneeled down to Aragorn with their heads bowed. Tristain looked up. "Sire, if you can end this devilerly in the south, then the Water Spirits of Middel Earth shall ever be in you debt." His voice was like water trickling down rocks. He looked to the water. The hands of the Water Spirits disappeared into water along with their watchful black eyes. "You may pass." He stood up and took his brother's hand.

They curved in their forms like waves and crashed down into Anduin with loud sighs in the wind. Some of it splashed in front of Aragorn in his boat. Francis formed again, looking at Aragorn. "Where's my daddy? He said he'd come back for us when he left." he paused as if remembering another part of his past. "Where's my mummy? Tristain won't say. I never saw her leave the burning monster that ate our home. She escaped didn't she" He asked with what sounded like a sniffle, if Water Spirits can sniffle that is.

Frodo and Sam both looked startled at one another.

Aragorn put his hands on Francis's translucent shoulders. "I do not know where you parents are, but you do have your older brother and your friends of the water. They will look after you."

Francis looked at his feet. Aragorn dropped his hands but the boy reached out and touched Aragorn's face. "Were... Are we dead?" His hand dropped.

His older brother appeared by his brother's side. He face was straight and plain like all life had been taken from it. "We feel colder each day. Nature feels cold, the world's light is fading. It's happening again. My brother doesn't want to feel cold any more. None of us do. You have to destroy it. What the boy has round his neck he must destroy it." His wrapped his arm his brother and they formed a wave that feel into the river without a ripple of any sort.

All together the Water Spirits of Anduin cried out; "Coldness must end, we are fading!" Their cry came over us like a freezing cold winter's gust of wind.

Our boats were carried threw the ravine safely until we came into a channel of Anduin that had flat land at each side. Above us rose two majestic stone statues, one at each side. Wrought by the skilled hands of old, they stood like pinnacles pointing to the sky. One had a crown and the other a helm but each held axes in their right hand. Tunics of stone hung on their bodies. Their faces were straight and threatening. Each of them held their left hand aloft with their palms facing outwards, like a warning to the North. Crannied brows and blurred grey eyes looked at all of those from the North frowned. The two giant kings of stone had not changed by age. They still looked like Men who you should not mess with. Powerful, great they still stood as the sentinels of the lost and nearly kingdom of Númenor.

"The Argonath! Long have I desired to look upon the king and lord of old. My kin." Aragorn spoke to Frodo.

The old poem of Númenor rang out in my ears in Elvish: 'Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!' (Out of the Great Sea to Middle Earth I have come. In this place I will abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world!)

Gimli quietly noted the stoning techniques and the types of stones. Everyone seemed put off by these stone giants. Even the statues of old wanted us to turn back, but that would not happen. We know that we were putting our lives on the line. We knew some of us may not makes it, while others might or even none of us will make it. But death was death and we were all willing to risk it.

And so we passed through that pillars of Argonath.

We put of boats in tow on the western shore. Our feet hit the gravel ground. I looked at Boromir who was the last to move from his boat. His face blank but his body hunched over like something inside of him was trying to fight its way out and it was slowly succeeding. He looked longly at the One Ring that hung round Frodo's neck. Something in him wanted that Ring and not in a good way. I feared he would be the breaker of this Fellowship, he was stray somewhere where we could no follow.

We set out a camp upon the gravel away from the water. I sat away with my own thoughts and the sketchpad on my lap. I drew Tristain holding his younger brother, Francis close to him and Argonath stood proudly behind them.

"We cross the lake at nightfall. Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north." Aragorn said as he put dried wood to the fire that were locked up in seconds.

Gimli grumbled then made his thoughts audible. "Oh, yes?! It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better! Festering, stinking marshlands, far as the eye can see!"

All the Hobbits perked up all with terrified faces and fearfull eyes. Pippin blinked in disbelief at Gimli's description of Emyn Muil. Then again if it was labyrinth, then there had to be an exit only it was hard to find and difficult to decipher.

Aragorn sighed at the Dwarf then spoke. "That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf." Though Gimli took this as an insult, Aragorn had not intended it to be taken as one.

"Recover my…?! Phrrr…" He grumbled as he moved where he sat like a grumpy, spoilt child who had been told 'no' by an adult.

Cold shivers run down my back like there were eyes watching us. I looked at the Elven Prince. He too had felt the unwanted watching eyes. He spoke his thoughts of the darkness of this land to Aragorn.

I got to my feet and allowed my eyes to scour through the pine trees. In the shadows stood a menacing grey statue that looked unearthly and similar to a hooded Nazgul. It's head moved and looked at us with a red glow.

I stumbled back. That was impossible. It wasn't real. Stone cannot move.

Can it?

"Tara, what's wrong? What did you see?" A distant voice called.

Reality came crashing down like a broken snowglobe. I could see a large pack of Uruk-Hai all with the White Hand of Saruman on their grim faces and helms. They were trampling across dry pastures with loud cries. The vision came crumbling down back into reality.

I turned to face the group. The sketchbook laid fallen on the gravel. "The White Hand of Saruman. A pack of Uruk-Hai and Orcs. They're coming."

Merry looked around searching for something. "Where's Frodo and Boromir?" He shouted looking at the stop where he last saw Frodo hunched up.