'Tis the darker shade of darkness which strives to escape from the holes where no light ever shines, the holes which hold it captive. The darker blackness which finds its way out and into the dark room when you are alone. The blackness in which you think you see something, yet it is not there when you look again. The darkness that is always watching and waiting to strike.


2.

It was not until early morning on the third day, that I reached the edge of Fangorn forest. I hated leaving my forest, yet something deep inside told me that I had to return to Aragorn, and to the rest of the Fellowship. I know not how long it will take me to reach Minas Tirith, for I do not have a horse this time, and I shall have to be more careful as to where I travel. People and orcs who would not have bothered Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli…would not be so hesitant to attack a lone traveler.

I stared out at the vast open plains of Rohan. My heart sinks as I see just how much land I have to cross before I am even in Gondor. I have so far to go, so much land to travel over. I square my shoulders and take a deep breath. I will not get there any sooner by despairing over how far I have to go. If I am ever to turn back, it is now. Now while Fangorn lies directly behind me, now before I begin my journey across Rohan. I dare not look back at the vast forest, for fear that if I do, I will decide to remain there for the rest of my days. Though it pains me to do so, I step out of the shade of the trees, and onto the grass covered hills of Rohan. Fangorn tells me goodbye, but I cannot turn and say it back, I must move forward. I cannot chance a look back at my beloved forest…at my home.

Though sorrow weighs heavy in my heart, it is also lifted by the hope that I will get to see my friends again. I will get to see Aragorn again. I carry with me only a little food I gathered in Fangorn, my bow and quiver of arrows, the cloak and circlet from Lothlorien, and the dress I was wearing when we marched on the Black Gate. For some reason the battle at the entrance to Mordor, seemed so long ago, yet it could not have been more than a few days ago. Could it?


For two days and nights I traveled across the vast plains and rolling hills of Rohan. On the morning of the third day I came upon a river, a swift and deep river that swept across the land; a river that I would have to cross. Except, I am not sure how to do so. I cannot see anyway of crossing, and I do not think that I can swim across so swift a river. My gaze moves from one end of the river to the other, as I attempt to determine which way would be easier to cross. My shoulders slumped as I realized that the river was its narrowest at the base of the mountains on the other side of Fangorn forest. This river was far too wide at almost any other part; I had to cross here and I had to do so before nightfall. For once night has fallen, it will be far too dangerous to attempt crossing so turbulent a river. As I stare at the river, I contemplate my two choices. I can either walk back to Fangorn, to the base of the mountains, and cross the river at its smallest point; or I can find a way to cross here. There is not really a choice, I have to cross here. I am just not sure how.

An idea stirs in my mind, an idea that gives me pause. I know that it will work, it may be the only way across, yet I had promised Aragorn that I would not do such a thing again. I fall to my knees upon the bank of the river, my fingers moving through the thick grass that grows there. I know that I can make it grow and I know that it is most likely the only way across and to the other side. Surely he would understand why I broke my promise, if he does not then at least he will know I am alive.

I lean over and place both my hands flat on the ground, feeling the grass under my hands, feeling the soil beneath it, and the roots which grew and stretched deep within the earth. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. I can do this. Ever so cautiously, I push a little more life and energy into the grass, making it grow rapidly. Making it stretch and twist over the river to form a bridge, a bridge that I somehow knew was sturdy enough for me to cross. I withdrew myself from the grass bridge, just as it reached the river bank on the other side. I carefully untangle my hands from the grass which has grown up and around them and get to my feet, brushing bits of grass from my dress as I stand. Pain explodes inside my head, driving me to my knees. My hands clutch at my head, wave after wave of agony pounds through my skull. I have to press my face into the ground to keep from screaming, for that will alert anything nearby of my presence. Tears fall into the soil beneath me, my hands clutch at my head as another wave of pain erupts inside me, then I am consumed by darkness.

I slowly become aware of myself, of the numbness in my legs and arms, the residual pain in my head, and the cold air which presses down on me. My eyes open, and it takes me a moment to register that night has fallen; I have lain here for nearly an entire day. Ever so slowly, I pull myself up onto my knees and look around at the surrounding land, searching for any sign of Men or Orcs. I am alone, alone at night beside a turbulent river. I stiffly get to my feet, absently rubbing my head as I debate whether to cross the river now or wait until morning. Waiting until morning will increase the danger of being found by wandering hordes of orcs. Yet, waiting for morning also means that crossing the river is easier and far less treacherous. The danger of being found by orcs, far outweighs the danger of crossing the river at night. I gather my bow from the ground where it had fallen, walk to the edge of the river bank, and carefully place one foot upon the grass bridge. The grass holds, and I carefully walk across and to the other side of the river. As my feet touched the ground on the other side of the river, the grass bridge shrunk and returned once more to its former length. Silently, I thank the grass for its help, then I turn away from the river and walk into the night.


For three and a half days I walk across the grass and rock covered hills of Rohan. Nearly four days without a tree in sight, only boulders and cliffs to offer any relief from the scorching heat of the sun. The cloak from Lothlorien shields my face and most of my body from the worst of the sun's heat, yet it cannot entirely protect my skin from burning. I do not travel at the same manic speed, as when I had first crossed these lands with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. I travel more cautiously, keeping watch for orcs and Men who may very well be bandits. Some half-buried boulders are recognizable from my earlier journey across the plains of Rohan; boulders which the four of us had climbed as we chased the Uruk-hai across the vast grassy hills. The leagues pass more slowly this time, and it is not until the morning of the sixth day since I crossed the river, that I come upon a much wider river. The sight of this next obstacle brings me to an abrupt halt.

My eyes gaze across the width of the river, searching for anything which could help me cross it. The roar of water fills my ears, and my eyes roam over the river until they find the place where it disappears over the edge of a cliff. The river hurtles over the edge of the cliff falling fifty boat lengths, before crashing into the churning river below. There is no way to cross the river here, I will have to travel up river and hope to find a way to cross to the other side; even if it is simply a place where it is calm enough to swim across. I turn my back on the waterfall and begin walking alongside the river, searching for anything that will aid me in crossing to the far shore.

I know, I know this chapter sucks. I am so sorry about that, I promise it will get better soon. Thank you for reading it anyway and I hope that it was not too horrid. Please review, and thank you for reading.