Author: As always, thanks for your patience and understanding.

As for this chapter, I am apparently required to warn you of the Body Horror content? Like, I don't see why, you've chosen to read a [PROTOTYPE] Story. Which is, by definition, Body Horror.

Anyways, here you go, and enjoy it!

Frodo...Frodo hadn't meant to put on the Ring.

He was just...angry frustrated annoyed anxious scared...when that fool Pippin told everybody who he was. Gandalf had told him to never mention his own name until they met. Hadn't worked until now, and they had been chased by that Black Rider, he really didn't want anybody else to know-

He hadn't meant to put on the Ring.

Now he was...somewhere.

It was dark, and it was like there was wind rushing past him, but he couldn't feel it on his face. There were shades all around him, flickering in the little light he had, and he touched one and it was solid.

Something black slithered towards him, and he scrambled back, staring in terror at hundreds of faces and thousands of eyes and teeth and red and gray and more black.

Then there was light. Fire and flames and a voice hissing at him, You cannot hide. A giant eye, wreathed in flames approached him, fire swallowing the shadows and black and red and the faces up like they weren't there. I see you. He scrambled back, trying to get away, but it ate up the distance too quickly. It hissed the entire time. There is no life in the void. Only Death.

He yanked the Ring off his finger, and he was back. Back in the Prancing Pony. He heard the people around him, could smell the ale and the food and the pipe-weed, and heard the fire crackle in the fireplace. He gasped in short bursts, limbs shaking.

But he was okay. He wasn't there anymore-

A hand grasped his coat and yanked him off the floor, and the world spun around him when he hit the wall.

The man Butterbur said was a Ranger, the man Butterbur said was named Strider, was pinning him and glared at him from just a hair's breadth away. "You draw far too much attention to yourself", he whisper-hissed, "Mister Underhill"

He pulled him around and shoved him up the stairs to the upper floor. Frodo couldn't even yell for his friends, his heart racing inside his chest as the man dragged him down the hallway and into a room where he was shoved roughly to the ground in front of the fireplace.

Frodo instantly scrambled back to his feet and squeezed himself against the wall, staring wide-eyed at the man. "What do you want?" He demanded to know, his limbs shaking.

"A little more caution from you", the man replied as he moved past him. "That is no trinket you carry."

"I carry nothing-" Frodo's reply was immediate, and he instantly inched towards the door now that the man's back was to him.

He hit another body suddenly, this one solid like stone, and he flinched back, head snapping up to see the second Ranger that's been with the man. His eyes were like shards of ice, but the voice was amused. "Really? Are you really sure about that?"

The first man, Strider, hurried to extinguish the candles, while the second man closed the door and casually leaned against the fireplace, effectively boxing Frodo in.

"I can avoid being seen if I wish", Strider pointed out, his voice breathless. "But to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift." He turned around and pulled his hood off, his gray eyes boring into Frodo's.

"And not only disappear", the second Ranger added, drawing attention. "But really disappear", his icy stare pinned him in place far more effective than any shackles would have. "How did you do it?"

Frodo pulled back, swallowing. "Who are you?"

Strider glanced at his companion, then turned to Frodo. "I am the one who knows what you carry, and I know that you are not nearly frightened enough because I also know what hunts you-"

The door burst open and Strider whirled around, sword drawn from its sheath, only to hesitate when faced with Sam and Merry and Pippin, all armed with pans, and stools, and candlesticks, and glaring at the men with righteous anger. "Let him go!" Sam- bless his heart- shouted, "Or we'll have you!"

The first Ranger huffed and put the sword back into the sheath, when the second Ranger snorted in amusement. "If you really want to know what's going on, you better come in and close the door. I know we're not the most trustworthy men around here, but we're not your enemies in this."

"We're not", Strider agreed, his shoulders finally loosing their tension, "You can not afford to wait for the wizard any longer, Frodo, because they are coming."

Alex and Strider were watching the street in front of the inn. Strider was nervous, even if he didn't try to show it. Alex knew better.

He watched with furrowed brows as four black riders stopped in front of the inn to dismount. He could smell the horses, even through the window. He could almost taste their warmth.
He couldn't smell the riders, while his tendrils skittered beneath his skin, curling in on themselves like they were shrinking away from cold. His thermal vision only showed cold spots glide across the ground and vanish inside the building. He knew where they were, alone from the scent of metal.

They were heading towards the Hobbits' room that were at street level. They weren't going to find the Hobbits, though, because they were sleeping soundly in Strider's bed.

Well, three out of four were sleeping. Frodo was eying the two men warily. Alex figured that was justified, considering the way they introduced themselves.

He felt his tendrils skitter when he heard the sound of metal stabbing through the body doubles they prepared before heading upstairs to sleep, and a full-body shiver ran down the length of his spine when these bastards screeched in rage, even as they threw the bedding around. He clamped down on the urge to maul them to make them silent and instead watched as they left shrieking, mounting their horses and dashing out of the town to look for the missing Hobbits.

Their bluff had worked. The bluff that was supposed to fool them into believing that they already left in the night. That was why Strider wrenched the promise from him to not engage, so the riders wouldn't realize that they still hung around- and were trying to protect something. That was why he promised not to engage, so not engaging was what Alex was going to do, even if he didn't like the idea of doing nothing when the strongest enemy was so tantalizingly close and unaware. One well-aimed Groundshatter Drop, and the problem would be solved ahead of schedule. (...was he already making schedules? Because that would mean he was going to stay longer than necessary)

Alex huffed and shook his head, turning his attention towards the Hobbits who'd startled awake themselves. The sturdy one, Sam, was frowning. "We met two of these...things on the street. Barely got away both times. Just...What are they?"

Strider glanced at the Runner, then sighed. "They were once Men. Great Kings of Men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave them nine Rings of Power", he exhaled slowly, "Blinded by greed they took them without question. And they fell into the darkness one by one. Now they are slaves to his will. Now they are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead."

They are like you. Strider had no idea how close he came to the truth, because all of the Infected- Runners included- were similar.

"But they're gone, right?" Frodo questioned.

Strider shook his head. "They are gone for now. But they always feel the presence of the Ring, they are drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you."

Frodo shivered, his eyes going distant again. "I never wanted to have this ring", he whispered. "I never wanted to put it on."

Alex sighed, drawing the Hobbit's attention. "There are a lot of things neither of us wanted to happen, but they still happened." He glanced at him briefly, "All you can do is roll with the punches, and figure out what to do from there." Happened all too often in the past.

Frodo furrowed his brows. "And if I don't want to?"

"What you want doesn't matter", he shook his head, casting his mind back to the circumstances of his birth. "You have to make do. Otherwise, you'll lose."

"That...", the Hobbit swallowed, "That doesn't sound very promising."

"It never is", Alex agreed. And that was it. He turned back to watch the street, and the Hobbits curled back into bed.

The next morning came before dawn- much too early for most of the Hobbits, so Alex encouraged them to get up by bodily throwing them out of bed. Once they were sufficiently awake, they left the Prancing Pony after a quick breakfast, and headed out. The mangy and skinny pony that accompanied them was a recent acquisition, a necessity since every other horse in the Prancing Pony's stables was gone. Alex figured it was more out of kindness that Sam wanted to take this nag, seeing as it would more likely collapse under their equipment. Though Bill, as it was called, didn't react towards the Runner at all, so it was a little plus point that would spare him some annoyance. (Striders horse had always shrieked when he got closer than three feet, so he had to keep his distance)

"Where are you taking us?" Frodo demanded to know when Strider veered off the road and headed up a hillside.

"Into the wild", the ranger commented simply, "Since the streets are closed off to us. And in the wild, they will never find a group that is led by a Ranger."

The answer seemed to satisfy the Hobbit, though the others still watched them warily. The one called Merry quickly sidled up to Frodo, questioning whether they should really trust Strider since they couldn't know whether he knew Gandalf at all.

Apparently, the answer that the enemy would sent out agents that were more alluring didn't sit right with Merry, and he glared darkly at Alex, who brought up the rear. "They are both foul enough", he muttered.

Alex snorted amused and pulled up besides them. "You don't have much of a choice there", he pointed out, "And, besides, if I wanted to harm you, I would have done so the second we left the road. I would have killed you, and went through your pockets for anything valuable. I didn't, so that should be proof enough."

Merry blinked. "Well...I'm not sure whether you are the worst motivational speaker or the best, but I kind of feel a little better now?"

"You'll feel even better when Strider's going to tell you where we're heading", Alex pointed out, then picked up his voice. "Mind telling us where this train stops?"

Strider didn't even glance back. "Rivendell. To the House of Elrond."

The Hobbits' face lit up. "Rivendell? We're going to see the Elves?"

They began chattering amongst themselves, excited about going to see the Elves, while Alex subtly furrowed his brows. He easily caught up to Strider, voice low. "You know how fast I am. Why don't you let me take the Hobbit so I can take him to your Elrond?"

The Ranger grimaced. "Do you know where Rivendell is?"

This was just a way to distract him from the real core of the problem. Alex narrowed his eyes. "I can also pick you up and take you along. Hell, I can also take the other Hobbits, and the horse. It wouldn't be much of a problem."

Strider blinked, apparently not knowing whether Alex was joking or not, though he apparently decided not to comment on it. "You also antagonized my brothers, and by proxy, my father, and-"

"Cut it", Alex hissed, mindful that the Hobbits didn't hear it. "You don't trust me to not hurt the brat."

Strider's shoulders slumped at that, and he looked several years older. "I want to trust you", he pointed out, "I think I can trust you, but-" He grimaced, eying the Runner. "But every time I see you, I see something inhuman, something that kills without remorse." His voice lowered and he looked away, as if it ashamed him to admit it. "Something hungry. And I get terrified."

Ah. Alex nodded and stepped back a little, prompting Strider to look up sharply. "I get it. Those are good reasons." He knew Blackwatch had been terrified of him. And Strider was not Blackwatch material. He also knew it was right, because at the best of times, he was wary of himself. "If you want- I can leave. Find some excuse to make up-"

"I'm not going to make you leave. If you think you have to, you are welcome to do so, but not because I feel uncomfortable", Strider cut in. "But I can't let you run off with the Ring, either." He held out his hand, staring the Runner straight in the eyes. "At the same time, I value your strength, and your insight. Let everybody else say whatever they want about you, my friend, when the time comes, they will see that I was right."

Alex eyed the hand, frowning. Friend? He only had allies until now, never a friend.

Strider obviously felt a little bit awkward for not being acknowledged and pulled his hand back with a grimace, when Alex finally inclined his head. "Friend? I guess I can try that."

They made good progress, walking from dawn to dusk with only few breaks in-between. It was a steep learning curve for the Hobbits, especially the youngest ones, who came to realize with terror that there would only be two meals a day.

Their enthusiasm for the trek- and for what they referred to as adventure- remained mostly unchallenged. Until they hit a large marsh area, that was.

While Strider continued to move onwards, closely followed by the Hobbits, Alex stopped dead in his tracks. One day before they got caught in a rainstorm, and Alex had cussed up and down as he desperately tried to stay dry. There had been only little cover though, and every single raindrop had felt like a tiny knife digging into his skin. Blacklight never played nice with water, even if he couldn't drown, so the comparatively gentle rain was like a drawn-out torture for him. He even toyed with the idea to summon his armor, but ultimately decided against it to not freak the Hobbits out.

Needless to say, he was relieved when the weather finally cleared.

But now.

Now there was water without end. Cold and wet, and it was going to hurt so bad. Whether he just imagined it to be painful, or whether it really was did not matter. He refused to walk any further.

Strider was the first to notice and he stopped too, turning around. Alex figured he must be looking pretty pathetic, but he knew when to pick his battles.

The Ranger grimaced briefly. "Right. You don't like water."

Understatement of the century. Alex sighed, gesturing towards the swamp. "How large is this?"

"It would take several days to circumvent it", Sam threw in.

Alex glanced at him, then shrugged. "I'm fast", he said, nodding towards Strider. "He can confirm."

The Ranger inclined his head. "He is. Chased me for two days while I was on horseback, Master Gamgee."

The Hobbit didn't seem persuaded, but he let it go without any further comments. Alex stepped back and turned around. "I'll see you on the other side. Don't get eaten by the mosquitoes."

He grinned to himself when the two youngest Hobbits started cussing and flailing, even without any blood-sucking insects nearby. Well, they were going to get the whole experience then, because it was still humid and warm enough for the critters to be active.

Not that he cared, mosquitoes avoided him- and even if they tried to bite, the resulting Blacklight infection killed them off anyways.

So he jogged lightly along the borders of the swamp, mindful to keep well out of the way of the water and listening to the sound of four Hobbits and one human wade through the muck faint away in the distance. It scared him a little how good he could hear them, because it meant that there was barely anything that made a noise around here. And yeah, he was aware it was closing in on winter, and his own presence that scared the wildlife away, but something was still deeply unsettling. It was like something had been smothering everything even before he made his way here (somehow).

Or maybe it were just his nerves talking?

He wasn't aware he had any, to begin with.

Alex snorted to himself. It seemed as if Strider's tendency to wax poetry whenever he got the chance rubbed off on him too. Looks like Blacklight was just as eager to accumulate knowledge through learning as it was through consuming.

He shook his head, picking up his speed when he spotted a collection of boulders, no taller than a hundred feet. They were likely the foothills of the nearby Weather Hills, and for now where a good lookout point. He scaled them effortlessly, and took the time to look around from their top.

This stretch of land was mostly flat, with only a few gentle hills, lots of shrubbery and some sparse trees. A far cry from the forest they hiked through the first day. He couldn't see the small group- this distance was simply too great, but he could estimate the size of the marshlands. It would take them the better of the day to pass through it, so it was going to be dusk, or night even, by the time they would emerge. (likely in dire need of a shower and a warm towel, but he was pretty sure they had no idea what those even were)

Late evening would give him enough time to sprint around the marsh a few times, or head back to Bree, or check the streets for the Black Riders.

He did none of these things, however. Instead, he bunched his muscles and ducked low, letting the pressure increase for a moment before he released it. He catapulted himself straight upwards, far over the ground, before the force petered out and he leaned to the front to let the air catch him.

It had been far too long to him. No reason to not enjoy it while he was on his own.

When night began to settle, Strider and the Hobbits emerged from the marsh. Alex was right, they would need a warm towel, though seeing as he didn't have any handy, he simply gestured to the campfire he'd build. "Come here, sit down and warm yourselves."

Merry and Pippin rushed over in relief, slumping to the ground and stretching their feet towards the flames. Frodo and Strider approached more subdued, and exhausted, while Sam first made sure Bill was taken care of before he joined the others.

Merry and Pippin were ravenously devouring their dinner, while Strider eyed the strips of meat Alex placed near the fire dubiously. "Dare I ask...", he trailed off.

Mercer snorted. "Caught a deer. Figured it'll make good jerky." What he didn't mention was that he already carved off the largest portion for himself, feeding the hunger burning under his skin before he started this fire to roast-dry the remaining meat.

Strider hummed and finally sat down so he could keep watch. The Hobbits began dozing off one by one, exhausted enough to fall asleep almost immediately. Alex just eyed the sky, trying to map the constellations and doing his best to not think of Dana. Tried not to think about whether she was still alive, or awake even, because he was going to break something if he did.

Better he focused on something else, something that didn't have any connection to him or her.
So he didn't listen to the conversation between Strider and Frodo, preferring to let people deal with their problems on their own unless they were either asking for help, or clearly self-destructing over it.

That was how he noticed the faint shine to the East. He furrowed his brows and got up, watching the sky.

"What is-" Strider trailed off once he noticed what Alex had spotted. He cocked his head. "Sky lights?"

St. Elm's fire, maybe. But no, that would be more blue. This was orange, and flickered. Like...

Like fire.

The Runner inclined his head. "Something's burning", he pointed out. "A wildfire maybe?"

"Maybe", Strider didn't seem convinced. "But...over there..." He frowned. "Maybe a swamp that caught on flames? It should be too cold, but careless wanderers camping in unsteady grounds could have caused it."

Alex crossed his arms. "It is still far away", he noticed, "It's not a threat yet. Still, we should keep an eye on it."

Strider nodded, his expression no longer forlorn. "Then I will keep watch-"

"-You. You will sleep", Alex cut him off, "Don't think I haven't noticed how little you rest. Do this another few days and you'll crash. Hard. And then what?" He gestured towards the Hobbits. "You'll really leave them behind without somebody who got a clue about what is going on here?"

He saw a flash of something cross the man's features. "What about you?"

"I don't need as much sleep", he countered. The slow trek they were doing was also almost like taking a nap to him, so he was feeling way more rested than he did during the hectic eighteen days in Manhattan.

Still, the fire at the horizon- he didn't think it was a wildfire, because it was waning the longer he watched. That didn't mean it was anything malicious- maybe it was some sort of large bonfire.

Maybe there was just a bunch of party animals going wild nearby.

And, at any rate, it wasn't like any sort of opponent was capable of going toe-on-toe with him. Even if it was some sort of Orc war party, they wouldn't be able to stand up to him anyways. He wasn't worried about it at all.

So with a shrug, he returned his attention to the sky.

October 6th

Dusk was rapidly approaching when they finally arrived at the foot of a towering rocky structure. Hard structure, like Alex knew of other locations- the rocks resisted erosion more than the soft sediments around and remained standing even when the land had long since washed away.

And this was, according to Strider, the tallest of the entire Weather Hill mountain range: The Weather Top, towering at around a thousand feet high.

Alex was itching to run up the smooth cliff side just because he could, and he smothered the urge ruthlessly.

"The Weather Top", Strider declared, "Amon Sûl. A watchtower of old." He turned to the Hobbits. "We will rest here tonight."

They started climbing a narrow passageway, until they found a large niche in the side of the mountain. Sam and Pippin remained there, taking care of Bill, while the other four climbed further up until they hit the top.
There were some walls, and a column or two remaining. Everything was grown over with hardy shrubbery and grass- except for the middle where a depression in the ground was covered in ash with burn marks stretching towards the rubble.

Alex snorted amused. "Guess this was what we've seen."

"It most likely was", Strider replied.

Merry and Frodo were exploring the area, and the younger of both was approaching the scorched grounds, where he stopped and eyed a pile of stones.

Most of them were obviously pieces of rubble caught in the blaze, but they had been stacked on top of each other to form a pile that reached Alex's hip.

The top-most rock, however, was clean. Must have placed here from somewhere else, and Merry picked it up curiously. His brows came down in confusion.

"Strider?" He called out, "What is this?"

The man came over, followed closely by the other Hobbit and Alex. Strider took the rock, turning it over.

There were lines carved into its bottom.

│"•│││•

Alex curiously inclined his head, while Frodo and Strider seemed surprised.

"Are those runes?" Frodo questioned, eyes starting to shine, "Was Gandalf here? Bilbo said that Gandalf knew about the runes."

"It is possible", Strider admitted slowly, "But these are Ranger's runes. It could be that basically any Ranger could have left them behind. Though...", he turned the rock again. "The first one means 'G'. And the other three are a number."

"G3?" Frodo threw in. "Does it mean that Gandalf had been here?"

"It is a possibility. Maybe that's how he means to tell us that he's been here on the third", the ranger agreed again. "Just as it could be bait left by the enemy. Or it is something entirely unrelated."

Frodo's expression fell, though Merry was quick to console him. "We found something, Frodo, didn't we? And it could be something Gandalf left." He grinned at his friend. "So it is possible he came along here, and not too long ago either."

The other Hobbit smiled a little. "Yes. It could be."

When they headed back down to the others, Strider placed a leather-bound pack on the floor. Alex had witnessed the ranger confiscate a set of weapons from the Hobbits for safekeeping, but for him to hand them back made his back crawl.

It were four long daggers to him, but to the Hobbits it were good-sized short swords. They also seemed older than Strider's weapon, like they haven't seen any care for a very long time. "I will give those back to you", he told the Hobbits, "And you keep them close."

"But why?" Pippin questioned, even as he attached the weapon to his belt.

The Ranger frowned. "Because I have a bad feeling about this. The Amon Sûl is too exposed, and there are fresh signs of battle nearby." He got up again, looking around. "I will make sure there is no threat", he pointed out. "Keep out of sight until I return."

"I'll go out, too", Alex decided. Strider seemed like he wanted to argue, but also knew he had no chance. He sighed. "Keep an eye out, please."

"I always do."

Night fell fast in early October, Alex noticed, and out here it was even darker than it ever had been in Manhattan. It wasn't too much of an obstacle- there had been moments in Manhattan when he needed night-vision too, and he long since perfected it- but he would never have guessed he'd have to employ it nearly every night. (he was designed to work in cities, cities that would never be really dark).

Usually, Alex followed Strider around and watched him read the ground like it was an open book, or collect plants that seemed like weed to him.
Tonight, he was feeling restless and was patrolling the area. He knew the Ranger was closer to the Weather Top than him, though distance meant little to him. And besides, he was feeling a lot safer when he knew that no enemies were breaching the perimeters- the further out those were, the better, in his opinion.

Too late he realized that his tactic only worked on those types of enemies that actually left tracks to follow- Soldiers, Infected, Orcs.
Yet, the things he should be aware of were ghosts. They didn't leave behind a track to follow, safe for the absence of animal life- and he covered those tracks himself, because animal life also fled from his presence.

The feeling of dread that crawled down his spine had nothing to do with the icy mist that was rising from the ground. It was only by pure luck he actually turned around to check-

He froze when he spotted the tiny flame far away being snuffed out. Exactly where he suspected the alcove was, easily five miles out-

He hissed under his breath, then swore when screeches echoed from the darkness.

Alex didn't bother to wait around for any longer, especially since he knew sound was far slower and by the time he actually heard the Ringwraith, they'd issued their calls earlier. He kicked off the floor and threw his body to the front. The distance eaten up quickly, but even at his top speed on perfect blacktop he would need at least four minutes to get closer. Like this, he needed around five minutes, though when he hit the cliff side, he didn't slow down. Instead, he thrust himself upwards, feet shattering the rock like glass as he dashed upwards.

Thousand feet was nothing- he had once tested himself by sprinting up the facade of the Empire State Building, and dropping back to street level; his record was at twenty-three seconds- so when he reached the top a few heartbeats later, he let his momentum carry him high above the plateau.

He twisted in mid-air to get an first impression, and realized instantly that it was bad. Merry and Pippin lay in crumpled heaps against the overgrown walls, and Sam was currently struggling back to his feet. Five Ringwraith were at the opposite site, closing in on something with a singular determination.

Alex didn't need to use his thermal vision to know what- or who they were approaching.

He burst to the front and hit the ground just behind the Wraith with enough force to send them staggering. They whirled on their feet, shrieking at his sudden approach, swords already lifted to strike at him.

He snarled back and threw a violent uppercut towards the closest one- but it was like hitting icy mist.

There was nothing behind those cowls, and a sword bit into his side in retaliation.

Change of plan then. Alex instantly slammed his fists together to displace vast amounts of air in a very short time- it was like a sledgehammer, throwing the Wraith off balance to give him room to breathe. He yanked the sword free from his side, the damage healing instantly, and he crumpled the weapon in his fist. He found the Hobbit easily enough by the disturbance on the ground and he lunged to the front to seize him, to pull him off the floor and out of the danger zone-

Frodo screamed.

Strider- he didn't think he could keep them safe. Why else would he have given them the Barrow-Blades back then? (Hadn't he always known, though? The Ringwraith, they would never stop hunting him)

He'd been exhausted too, knowing Gandalf could have been there, but wasn't, and he curled up and tried to sleep to escape his troubles for a while.

He'd barely managed to fall asleep when he startled awake again. For a few long moments it was disorienting, and he didn't know where he was, or what woke him-

The latter came to him first when he heard Pippin complain about burst tomatoes and he smelled fresh sausages and bacon, and Merry asked Sam whether he wanted something else to eat. Nothing worrying, just his friends having a late night dinner-

They weren't in Hobbiton, or camping.

They were on the run. They were fleeing Hobbiton in order to reach the Elven Lands so they could escape their pursuers- Ringwraith that weren't going to stop hunting him.

And the others had lit a fire. One that was visible for miles around.

Frodo swore, jumping to his feet. "What are you doing?!" He screeched. He didn't care that his voice was edging on hysterical, they had to know the danger they were in.

...Apparently, they didn't, because Merry casually pointed at the pan. "Tomatoes, sausages, crispy bacon."

Sam nodded. "We saved some for you, Mister Frodo."

Frodo couldn't even bring up the energy to stare at them incredulously, because all he could think of was to try and hide hide hide. He scrambled over and stomped down onto the fire to douse it, ignoring the other's sounds of protest.

Ice pooled in his stomach when he heard the shriek of the Nazgûl, and all of them stopped what they were doing and turned around. They hurried to the edge of the alcove, witnessing five shadows rush across the ground, trailing mist in their wake.

Merry, Pippin, and Sam only realized just now what they had done, and stared at the scene.

The fear surging through him snapped Frodo to clarity quick, however, and he pushed at his cousins, even as he pulled the sword Strider gave him. "Go!"

That snapped them out of their state, and now their eyes were wide. "Where to?!"

"Up! We gotta go up!" And find a place to hide. They hurried to the stairs he and Merry ascended during the day, and thankfully Sam wasn't kicking up a fuss about Bill- the pony was frozen too, watching them with wide eyes, but the Wraith weren't going to be after him. He was just a pony, after all.

Frodo, on the other hand-

Up there needed to be some place to hide. (Besides, they couldn't go down, where the five were)

There was only rubble, like during the day, and they couldn't hide anywhere. Frantically, all of them looked around, though mostly focused their attention on the staircase they've come through.
Something cold ran down his back and Frodo turned, his breath hitching when the first robed figure appeared at the edge of the cliff. How they got up, he didn't know, except that they had maneuvered themselves into a trap.

The Nazgûl reached for the sword attached to its side and slowly drew it from its sheath. The metallic rasp made the other Hobbits turn around and stare, backing away when the other four Wraith appeared. All of them closed in on them with slow, but determined steps, and despite the heavy armored boots they wore, they hardly made a sound.

"Back, you Devils!" Sam- bless his brave heart- shouted and lunged at the first of the Wraith. It must have taken all of them by surprise, because they only parried Sam's wild swings for a bit.
Until they grew bored and one of them roughly shoved him out of the way, sending him careening against a low pillar where he slumped. Merry and Pippin, encouraged now, stepped in front of Frodo themselves, shaking badly but tried to appear determined. The Nazgûl however casually plucked them off the floor and bodily threw them away, barely stopping as they approached Frodo.

Frodo's breathing stopped and he dropped his sword as he stumbled backwards in terror. Unbidden, his hand found the pocket at the chest of his vest, and his fingers found the Ring. It whispered to him-
And the Nazgûl stopped.

One of them turned its hooded head into his direction, and even though it didn't have a face, Frodo knew it was staring at him.
Then it marched towards him, while the others followed at a slower pace. Frodo instantly scrambled backwards, eyes wide when he saw the Wraith draw a short dagger from its robes. He could feel the dark aura this thing gave off, and fear clouded his mind even as his head distantly registered the dull impact of a fallen column to the back of his skull.
The Wraith hadn't stopped at all, had its dagger raised, ready to stab it down, and Frodo...

Frodo shoved the Ring onto his finger, yanking himself back into this other place.
The Five Wraith stood in front of him with the strange wind whipping their white cloaks and long hair, and he could see their faces beneath their silver crowns. But it weren't human faces, not anymore. They were hollowed out, like skin stretched too taught across a skull, and their eyes were dark slits.

Their leader still held his dagger up, still positioned to stab him, but also held out his hand with his crooked fingers beckoning for him.
The Ring pulled at him, dragging his arm towards them. He realized what was going on and yanked his hand back-

The Nazgûl suddenly swayed to the sides, and their attention was pulled away from the Hobbit. For a second Frodo believed that he could still flee, but then his limbs locked up and a fresh wave of terror shot through his core.
Black and Red and Gray, twisting across countless limbs and teeth and eyes and faces pushed to the front, one bladed talon shooting out and trying to slice through one of the Wraith- it leaned back and the blow missed barely. Instead, it lashed out and sank its sword into the darkness, and it fell back briefly.
Only to twist the next second, and all five Nazgûl staggered to the sides, freeing the line of sight now. The darkness didn't hesitate, just pounced to the front.

Frodo couldn't even process what was happening when red and black seized him and wrapped around him strong like a band of steel. Only when he noticed the countless beady eyes staring at him and the small slimy limbs skittering up his arms and tiny teeth nibbling along his neck did he break his stupor and screamed out in fear, kicking and struggling against the thing. Voices screeched at him, hissing in tongues he never heard, and he fought harder, trying to free himself.

The Nazgûl had regrouped by now and charged the darkness themselves, and the leader stabbed his dagger to the front, though had altered its target by now. The thing howled when the steel sank into its body, but it was already twisting again and trying to back-hand the Wraith, though its body was shaking. The Wraith fell back, drawing his sword once more-

Fire flashed in Frodo's eyes and his breathing hitched when another shadow jumped between the darkness and the Wraith, and they shrieked as they fell back. Yet he couldn't forget he was still trapped. Tiny limbs curled around his hands, and little teeth continued to nibble, and voices hissed at him, but the last time he had seen this darkness it had only been in the other place.

Pulling together all of his Willpower, Frodo seized the Ring and yanked it off his finger, instantly gasping through a sore throat when he was back, and he was still struggling.
The voices and eyes and teeth were gone, replaced for a solid body and strong limbs. "Calm the Fuck down, Frodo!" Another voice snapped, and he instantly stopped his fighting, because he knew that voice, even when it was strained. The second he had stopped struggling, he was let go off, and he dropped a foot or two to the ground, too startled to even consider trying to land gracefully, and the shape behind him disappeared with the hollow crack of solid rock.

"Mister Frodo!" His attention snapped to Sam, who rushed towards him. "Are you alright?!"

"I-" He didn't know. His heart was still pounding away in his ribcage, and his breathing was short, and he jerked when there was another shriek. "What's going on?!"

"Strider came, he's driving them off", Sam explained, and Frodo finally noticed what was happening: The Nazgûl where scrambling away from Strider, who was swinging his sword to knock them back and wielding a torch in his other hand. The Wraith were more afraid of the fire, however, and tried to avoid it as best as they could, but then the black shape of the other man bodily slammed into one of them so it lost its balance, and Strider set its robes on fire. It screeched in panic and ran off. In the next second Alex stepped in and seized the hand of one to simply crush it and the sword's hilt into a crumpled wreck while the Nazgûl screamed at him, and he shoved it and it fell out of sight. Another fled burning, and Strider traded sword blows with the fourth until it escaped.

The last one had managed to rush to the edge of the watchtower, and glanced back towards Strider, who scowled briefly and flung the torch at the Wraith where it got stuck inside its face. It shrieked panicked and fell off the side.

Merry and Pippin had gathered by Frodo too, eyes darting around. He could feel them shaking now that the battle wound down. He turned to them, face pale. "Are you fine?" He demanded to know, "They grabbed you-"

"Shaken, but hale", Merry cut him off, "But what about you, Frodo? You've been screaming like you were being gutted."

"I-" He wet his lips, heart thudding. "There was this thing. It grabbed me, and it was terrifying-"

"More than these Wraith?" Pippin threw a glance back where Strider and Alex finished securing the area. "That's hard to believe."

Frodo shook his head. "Not more. Different." He'd been afraid it was going to eat him, because all he had felt off it was hunger.

"Frodo", Strider approached him, expression worried as he knelt down to check him over for any injuries. "Did they do anything?"

"They tried", he replied, his voice still shaking. "But-"

"The Ring?"

"They didn't get it."

Strider's grim expression relaxed somewhat. "Good. Get Bill, we leave this place. We need to hide somewhere", He turned around, rising to his feet. "Alex, we need to go. Alex?"

There was a disgruntled noise, and Merry was the first to spot the other man. "Over there", he called out, pointing towards a low wall. The man was leaning against it, fingers curled into the ancient stonework, and, well, he looked more pale than he usually did.

Strider immediately became concerned as he approached him rapidly. "Alex-"

The man's head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. "Stop it right there", he snarled, and Strider froze. The Hobbits scrambled to their feet and approached as well, and Frodo felt his heart stop.

There was the hilt of a blade sticking out of the other man's chest, partially hidden by the hand he was pressing down on the wound. Blood was oozing out of the corner of his mouth, staining his bared teeth red.

Strider swallowed. "Alex-"

"Yeah, I know", the man growled. "Just- stay there, and don't fucking move, okay?" He didn't wait for them to comply, and lifted his blood-soaked hand. Darkness skipped across it then, twisting his fingers into dagger-like claws.
He jabbed them into his own chest with a barely contained grunt of pain, and proceeded to literally gouge out his ribcage, clawing away at red flesh and pulsing organs. Alex was panting harshly by the end of it, and the fingers on his second hand- by now also transformed into talons- dug into the stonework and cut it open like fresh bread as he continued to ravage his own body and rip out what should be vital organs.
It took him several agonizing moments until he dropped the piece of himself towards the ground with a final snarl. The Blade that was still sticking out of the middle of the mess remained upright, even as the remnants of his insides curled up and melted into black sludge in front of their eyes.

The next moment, his posture relaxed and he inhaled deeply just as red and black strands of flesh re-formed his lungs and proceeded to knit the gaping hole in his chest close, repaired even his clothes. Then he straightened and shook his paws to turn them back into normal hands.

"That", the creature Alex Mercer said with a scowl on his face, "Was Fucking unpleasant."

Alex and Aragorn are both a prime example of what not to do when meeting people and trying to make a good first impression.