hi friends!

I'm sorry this took so long! I'll try to update faster in future :)

thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed! I'd love to hear more feedback!

peace out!

PEREGRIN

They parted from the prisoners on a wide, lonely stretch of road, when the Gap of Rohan was visible on the horizon as a pass between two great shadowy cliffs. Aragorn bid them all farewell, urging them to come to Minas Tirith when the war was through. Then the remainder of the Fellowship, led by Diamond, turned west toward the horizon.

"It is a day's journey to Long Cleeve," said Diamond, and Pippin grimaced. He had never been fond of extensive walking, and though he had certainly become better at it in the last few months, another day seemed torturous.

"We shall go as far from Orthanc as we can before we stop," Aragorn decided. "I do not wish for Saruman's servant to come after us, and Gimli and Merry at least need somewhere to rest."

"And he shall not say it," added Legolas, "but Estel too is exhausted and should rest before he collapses."

Aragorn's smile was pained and weary. "I assure you, Legolas, I could travel all night if I wished, but I shall not let the others go without sleep, especially the hobbits. Still, we must get at least a league away from Orthanc before we stop, for anyone left in the tower will be searching for us."

"I will not be surprised if Wormtongue puts a bounty on your head, Strider," said Diamond. "He will not be pleased with our success. I will lead you as far as you can go, for you all look as though your legs will give out before we go much farther. Nevertheless, we must press on."

Pippin did not think he could go much farther; his eyelids were drooping, ready to send him to sleep, and his legs indeed felt like they may give out. But he would not collapse in front of Diamond; that felt something like a blow to his honor, so he struggled on as they traversed the road.

An hour into the journey, Pippin was so exhausted that Legolas took pity on him and hoisted the hobbit onto his back. Pippin did not protest; only rested his head on the elf's shoulder as Diamond taunted, "Delicate, aren't we, Shire-child?"

"I am not particularly fond of discomfort," Pippin mumbled, and then his eyes closed and he was asleep.

When he woke they had stopped in a clearing, and Aragorn was in a deep slumber on the other side of it. Legolas lay near him, Gimli a very short distance away. Pippin realized that his back was pressed against Merry's, whose temperature seemed lower than it had been in Orthanc. A wave of relief swept through Pippin—Aragorn's medicine was working. Perhaps he would not lose his cousin after all.

Peregrin.

The glass was speaking again. Aragorn's bag had opened slightly; Pippin could see the sparkle of the stone through the gap in the fabric. It was almost seductive, the way it called to him, and he wanted to go to it. Why shouldn't he? He had picked it up, it was his, it could not burn him as it did the others.

Look into my eye, Peregrin, you shall see all that you wish and more…

He stood, moving as if in a trance, and walked across the clearing. Aragorn would not notice, surely, and no one had to know, Pippin could simply place the glass back in the bag when he was finished. He only wished to hold it again.

Pippin stooped down and took the stone into his hands, holding it closely against his chest. It shone beautifully in the dim light, and he ran a finger down its smooth surface, wondering why he had ever doubted it. It was such a lovely thing, so full of light…

And then a great eye seemed to burst forth from the stone, an eye of flame and shadow, slit down the middle with a thin black void, and he was drowning in the fiery depths, visions flashing through his mind.

He saw a vast eruption of something like fire and yet like water. A great billow of smoke followed it, and a rumbling shook the earth; the land crumbled beneath his feet and he was falling, plummeting into depths like that of Moria, but his feet landed upon coarse grass.

The Shire was burning, its lush grass blackened and smoldering. Hobbits in chains were marched over the barren land, and to his horror Pippin saw his own face in the multitude. Merry was beside him, and Frodo and Sam trailed behind. Near to them were Pippin's sisters and his mother and father; his heart broke at the sight of them all so weary and clapped in irons. As he watched a whip came down across Frodo's back and Sam began shouting at the whipmaster, who delivered a blow to the hobbit's face that knocked him over. Pippin and Merry bent to help him, but they were whipped also.

Upon a dark, burned hill, silhouetted against a blazing red sun, knelt Aragorn, his hands bound and his face bloody. Legolas and Gimli were prostrate on the ground beside him, and Wormtongue stood over the three hunters with another whip. An old man with limp gray hair stood beside Saruman's servant, a look of utter, sadistic delight on his face. From the bottom of the hill Boromir watched, shouting incoherently and struggling to climb the slope while another, slighter man who looked much like him held him back.

"Father, stop!" Boromir roared, and Pippin's heart clenched at the sight of the tears running down the man's face. "Make him stop, I beg of you! They have done nothing to you!"

Scorching wind tore at Pippin's face; he shielded his eyes against it as the whip came down once more upon Aragorn's back. The king finally fell, pinning his bound hands beneath him, and Boromir howled something at the old man, who laughed, saying, "So much for the return of the king!"

You can stop this, whispered the voice, that black, dark thing that now consumed him. Give yourself over to me, and this future, this frightening end, shall be as naught…You shall be rewarded, Peregrin, rewarded beyond anything you can imagine…

The man beside Boromir pulled him away from the hill; tears were running down both their faces. Pippin now felt that he was watching from his place in the ranks of chained hobbits; there was something heavy and tight about his neck, and he could see that his wrists bore iron cuffs. Still he tried to go to Boromir, or perhaps he wanted Boromir to come to him; all he knew was that he was shouting the man's name.

It will be easy, my young friend…Give in to the shadow, the thing which occupies the souls of all creatures…you will not be alone…

Pippin knew he still stood in the clearing, clutching the stone, and yet he did not know, for all was fading, and now suddenly he stood at the edge of a great gulf, and below him a fire burned, and a voice cried "Cast it in!" But Pippin did not heed it, though he knew he must, and all he could do was open his mouth in a horrible shriek—

"Strider!"

The weight of the glass was wrenched from his hands, and Pippin fell suddenly again into darkness, which he would now have been content to never emerge from, for it seemed as if it were within his very soul, poisoning him from the inside…

Was this how Boromir had been lost? Was this how the Ring felt?

"He is fading—"

"What has happened, Estel?"

Then another voice, piercing the shadow, softer, lighter than the first two.

"Do not be afraid, Pippin, you are safe. Come back to the light."

He was half in and half out of a dream, and so Pippin thought he beheld Boromir's face again for a moment, smiling down at him from a place of radiant sunlight.

Then the shadow with a terrible wail of anguish wrenched itself from his soul, unclasped its shining teeth of corruption, and released him.

And Pippin woke.

Aragorn was leaning over him, gray eyes searching and fearful. He looked pained, as if he himself had drawn the shadow out of Pippin. Diamond was beside Aragorn, and Legolas on Pippin's other side; the elf looked worried, but Diamond seemed more irritated.

"Why did you touch it, Shire-child?" she berated. "Have you no sense?"

"It called to me," Pippin mumbled; it was difficult to get the words out. It felt as if he had plummeted from a great height onto the ground, perhaps striking his head, for it seemed hazy and pulsed with every heartbeat. Though Pippin's head felt like fire burned within it the rest of his body was as cold as if he had bathed in a frigid spring, and he wondered if this was what Merry's fever had been like.

"You returned from the shadow in time, Pippin," said Aragorn. "You are no longer in danger, though it may be an hour yet before you feel well enough to move. I am sorry to press the matter, but what did the shadow do? Did it speak to you, show you visions?"

"It did both," Pippin said faintly. "But I don't feel like talking of it now; I don't believe I can speak much more."

"Very well." Aragorn's voice was kind. "We shall speak of it when you have had a chance to recover. I apologize; it was surely a terrible ordeal for you, and you could not have done anything to stop yourself."

He looked down at his hands, and Pippin realized that they must have been burned—Aragorn had pulled the stone from Pippin's grasp and had seared his already scorched palms. Guilt tugged at Pippin's heart as Aragorn spoke again.

"This was my fault. We should have set a watch, knowing what the glass can do and how near we still are to Orthanc. You may all return to sleep, and I shall stand guard until morning. Forgive me, my friends. I shall be more cautious in the future; this was my oversight and mine alone."

"Neither you nor Pippin could have known," Legolas protested. "This was the fault of Saruman's servant, for throwing that stone at us. I have half a mind to take it back to the tower and let him handle the consequences."

"And leave it in Wormtongue's filthy hands?" Diamond snapped. "I'd sooner run myself through with Strider's sword."

"We cannot relinquish it," Aragorn said firmly. "If Sauron can speak through it, we cannot let it fall back into the hands of his servants. I will keep it in my pack and stand watch tonight. No one is to touch the stone, and if you feel that you must I shall talk you out of it. Now, my friends, you must depart to bed."

He slid one hand under Pippin's legs and the other under the hobbit's shoulders, probably intending to lift him, but Pippin saw Aragorn wince, and so did Legolas, who said, "You are injured, Estel. Let me take him; you must rest."

Aragorn reluctantly withdrew, and the elf took Pippin into his arms, bearing him back across the clearing and setting him next to Merry. "Sleep well, Pippin. If you think too long on the stone, tell Strider or I, and we will help you."

"Thank you," Pippin whispered, and he drew his elvin-cloak tightly about his shoulders, feeling colder than he ever had in his life, and slept once more.

He had hoped that once he no longer held the stone, the visions would cease, but it was a foolish hope.

This time he stood upon slick, soaked grass, and Pippin wondered if he saw the battle through his own eyes or those of another. He saw a great black gate ahead, and beyond the dark land of Mordor. Many people—elves, dwarves, orcs, men, even hobbits—fought around him, their blood staining the earth.

"We must retreat!"

The voice was Aragorn's; Pippin saw him with a scarlet-stained sword, his hair blowing about in the hot wind as he fought to defend a fallen lady with flowing golden hair. Beside her knelt the man from Pippin's last vision, the one who resembled Boromir. At present his face was stained with tears, and he clasped the lady's hand in one of his own, while his other hand was pressed to his shoulder.

"We cannot retreat!" the young man cried. "We mustn't lead them back to Minas Tirith! The Secret Fire may not yet have been found, and some still wait within; they cannot withstand a third siege!"

"We cannot stay here, Faramir!" Aragorn shouted, and he hewed down an orc that had drawn too near. "The mountain shakes; I fear all is not well with Sam and Frodo. Sauron is pleased; something has happened to the Ring!"

"Then we cannot go to Minas Tirith!" said Faramir, and Pippin knew from the man's name and his face that he must be the brother of Boromir. "Let us flee to Osgiliath, where our people will not be in danger!"

"The horn, Faramir!" Aragorn said, and he drew back from an orc that had slashed its sword at his arm, leaving a long cut. "Sound the retreat!"

Faramir took from his side a horn that looked much like Boromir's, and standing with difficulty he grasped it in both hands and blew. A great blast of sound rang out across the battlefield, and Pippin saw fear and hopelessness in the eyes of many as Aragorn cried, "Retreat, my people! We are in grave peril, we must retreat!"

The army began to flee, and it was all Pippin could do not to be trampled. He looked down at his feet and saw blood soaking dark blond fetlocks—not his own, then, but he knew these feet; he had seen them nearly every day of his life. Pippin was watching the battle through the eyes of Merry.

"Estel!" called Legolas, fighting his way through the throng. "Estel, we cannot retreat! We must hold the field, or Sauron shall prevail!"

"The mountain is going to erupt!" Aragorn shouted; his eyes were wild with fear. "It shall send fire and ash over all of us; come, Legolas! Bring Gimli and Merry! We must flee!"

Pippin's view of Aragorn shifted as Merry was taken up by the elf, who began to run, light-footed, over the battlefield, following the tide of fleeing soldiers. Gimli ran beside them, with Faramir bringing the fallen lady in his arms. Many around them were crying out with fear or pain, and Pippin watched as some fell. The orcs behind them were howling with delight, but Pippin knew that if the mountain did indeed erupt their victory would mean nothing.

Legolas outpaced Aragorn, and the ground flew past under the elf's swift feet. The earth shook, rumbling as it had in the first vision Pippin had seen, and Aragorn shouted, "Gandalf! You must call the eagles! Something has gone wrong; Frodo and Sam are in grave danger!"

"We must send word to Minas Tirith!" said Faramir. "The people do not know what peril they are in!" He stumbled, nearly dropping the woman he held close to his chest.

"Shadowfax shall take the message," Aragorn decided hastily, but Gandalf said, "You cannot rush a wizard, Aragorn! I have already promised to call the eagles; you may be king, but not yet! I shall do what I see fit."

"And I must do what is best for my people! No one but you can do these things, Gandalf!"

"Stop your bickering, you two!" Gimli ordered, panting as he fought to keep up with Legolas. "If that mountain's going to erupt, it shan't matter who takes any messages! We ought to run!"

Pippin looked through Merry's eyes at the great spire of Mount Doom and saw to his horror that a vast circlet of fire now crowned the peak, smoke issuing from the tip of the mountain. The air seemed to be growing hotter, and Pippin wondered what might happen when the strange liquid fire burst forth.

Then he knew. A roar of sound seemed to cleave the air in two, and Aragorn screamed, "Get down!"

That was the first sign of how serious this was; Pippin had never in the waking world heard Aragorn's voice so high or so loud. Legolas flung himself down, and Pippin watched him throw one arm about Gimli's shoulders. Aragorn too threw himself to the ground, shielding Faramir and the lady.

And then the surge of fire swept over them, and Pippin's mind flew suddenly to a city of white towers, where the heat blew many stones from the walls, and he clasped a small warm hand in his own as strong arms wrapped around him. Many screams rose around him, one of them his own, and suddenly all he knew was searing pain, the sensation of flight, and then crushing darkness.

Pippin woke again with a start; his cheek was pressed against a bony shoulder. A wisp of fine pale hair brushed against his skin, and he realized that Legolas bore him upon his back.

It was raining; the sky looked as if it were just after dawn. The company had turned onto wide open plains, with the faint shadows of mountains on each horizon. Pippin could see Aragorn ahead of Legolas, Merry still draped over his shoulders, and the heavy steps of Gimli sounded from beside the elf. Diamond walked between Aragorn and Legolas, and she looked up as Pippin laid his eyes upon her.

"Finally awake, Shire-child?" she asked. "Took you long enough; Strider has been nearly sick with worry and Legolas has complained of your weight for hours now. No one could sleep after your little stunt with the stone, so we set out and we are now a third of the way to Long Cleeve. Trust you to make trouble for us."

"I had no say in the matter," Pippin grumbled, though a smile tugged at his lips. "Legolas, you may set me down whenever you wish; I think I could walk now."

"Est—Strider has said not to let you down until he has made certain of your well-being," said Legolas. "And that shall not be until we stop and rest, which shall be a while yet. Is all well with you, Pippin? For you have muttered things in your sleep that concern us all."

"What sort of things?" Pippin asked.

"Why, the end of the world, of course," Legolas laughed. "Mountains and fire, retreat, grave peril! Indeed it would seem that the stone has disturbed your rest, even when you are not touching it; this Strider feared and it seems he was right to do so. For those cannot be dreams of the usual sort, at least not for a hobbit."

"They are not," said Pippin. "Usually my dreams are more pleasant and more often than not include second breakfast. These had no meals of any sort and served only to frighten me. I should like to talk to Strider, if he will permit it."

But the stress of the journey seemed to weigh heavily upon Aragorn, and he looked over his shoulder, his gaze flicking over his companions as his lips moved swiftly. It looked as though he were counting them, and then he scanned the horizon with a wary look in his eyes. Aragorn seemed to be hunched slightly with Merry's weight upon his back, and his cloak was drawn tight about his shoulders; he was the image of a weary traveler.

"Perhaps I shall wait until we stop," Pippin decided. "For Strider looks exhausted and should not be bothered with my troubles."

"Strider can hear you," said Aragorn, "and he bids you come to him with any troubles, no matter how small. Are you recovered enough to speak of the shadow, Pippin?"

"I am, if Legolas will only put me down."

Aragorn smiled, looking back at Pippin. "Put him down then, Legolas, and let him come to me."

The elf took Pippin from his back and eased him onto the ground, and Pippin swayed slightly. How much strength had the shadow taken from him?

He regained his balance and tottered towards Aragorn; the Ranger put an arm around the hobbit, pressing Pippin close to his side as Boromir used to do when the nights were cold. "Tell me, Pippin, how are you feeling? Do you still feel drawn to the stone, and does it trouble your dreams?"

"I know not what I feel about the stone," Pippin admitted. "It seems at times such a wonderful thing, full of light like the sun, and then suddenly, when I take it into my grasp, all I can see is shadow and flame and a dark power seems to come upon me. As for my dreams, I think it does trouble them, for I have never had dreams such as these before."

"What do you see?" Aragorn asked.

"I see fire," said Pippin. "Always there is fire, and I have seen you too, Strider, and the land is burning and you are afraid. Many are in bondage and in danger, and I see men and women I have never before known but that I know mean something to you. None of it do I understand, but there is one thing that makes the least sense to me, if these are indeed futures that the stone shows to me, for that is what the shadow told me they were."

Aragorn's face was pale; the cut on his forehead stood out as a dark crimson line. His voice was low as he bent nearer to Pippin. "What is it, my friend?"

"The stone told me that the future I saw need not be if I joined it," Pippin told Aragorn. "Would that not seem to you that it would therefore have some chance of happening? No matter what I did, that future could still come to pass?"

"It would seem that way, yes," said Aragorn. "Why, Pippin? What have you seen?"

"Boromir," Pippin replied, and Aragorn's face went from pale to white, lighter than the snow on Caradhras as the hobbit continued hastily. "I do not understand, Strider. Surely any future with Boromir in it cannot come to pass. It grieves me beyond measure to say it, but he has gone, and cannot return to us, not even in the darker paths that the stone has shown me. I would say it is only my imagination, my grief for Boromir, but I saw him when I held the stone and not when I was but dreaming. Surely this thing cannot happen, Strider?"

Aragorn's teeth were clamped down upon his lower lip. "What did Boromir do?"

"You stood upon a hill," said Pippin. "Boromir was at the foot of it; he watched as Wormtongue beat you, and Legolas and Gimli too, with a whip. An old man also stood by Wormtongue, and Boromir called him Father. Boromir pleaded for your release, and he looked as if he would run to you, but another man held him back. In my dream after you released me from the stone, I found that the young man was named Faramir. Do you know anyone by that name, and might he be the brother of Boromir?"

"Faramir is the brother of Boromir," Aragorn confirmed. "But I have heard that their father, Denethor, is a noble man, though I have not seen him since before he claimed the stewardship of Gondor. Why he would stand with Wormtongue, I know not, but this does not trouble me as does the presence of Boromir. I do not understand how he can exist in any future, no matter how unlikely it is to happen."

He tightened his grip on Pippin's shoulders, and the hobbit leaned his head into Aragorn's side as the Ranger spoke again. "But fear not, Pippin. You need not concern yourself with these fearsome matters; leave me to worry about them. Now go back to Legolas, my friend, for you are tired, and even the recanting of your tale has spent what little strength you have."

Pippin realized that it was true; his legs trembled slightly and he felt as though he had not slept at all. Still, he said, "I am alright, Strider, I think I can walk a little farther."

"I shall not risk it, Pippin," said Aragorn, and leaning down he brushed his lips against Pippin's dark wavy locks as if sending a child to bed. "Go back to Legolas. You have caused us no trouble."

Pippin smiled up at him and went dutifully back to Legolas, who took him back up, ready to bear him as far as needed. Pippin could not help but wish for Boromir and his broad muscular shoulders; Legolas was kind, but he was quite slender and his shoulder blades dug painfully into Pippin's chest.

The day wore on, and Pippin thought no more of the stone, but as night fell the moon came out, its light striking Aragorn's pack so that it seemed to glow from within. Pippin's gaze fell on it, and he felt a strange tugging sensation in his chest, but he pushed it down.

So it was that the night was silent, and no footsteps pierced the quietude, not even those of a curious hobbit. But a league away, in the city of Long Cleeve, a maiden hobbit sat up in her bed and clutched at the chain about her neck. Looking down at it she beheld that Reena-domë shone once more, a circle of golden fire against her silken bedclothes, and she woke her sleeping husband and said, "The Firebringer approaches, Valor."

"Diamond has returned?" he asked.

"Not yet. But she draws near, and the Ring is ready. It wishes to pass to her."

"Perhaps, mela, we shall learn where our daughter has been all these months," said Valor, and he clasped his wife's small hands in his own large, strong ones.

"We shall learn other things as well," said the maiden hobbit, and the Ring shone on her face with nearly the intensity of the sun. "The Firebringer is not alone."

ARAGORN

They had stopped a league outside of Long Cleeve, for Diamond did not think it wise to enter by night and wanted to approach her mother at dawn. Now the sun was near to rising and Aragorn was trying to wake everyone; the hobbits were being particularly troublesome. Well—not the hobbits. Mostly Pippin.

He was trying not to wake Merry, but as Aragorn took the injured hobbit into his arms, Merry's eyes opened, and he whispered, "Strider?"

"Merry," said Aragorn, and a smile took hold of his face and would not leave. "Before you ask, we have got you out of Orthanc, and Pippin is safe. We are going to Long Cleeve, the home of Diamond, who was in the cell beside you in the tower. How are you feeling?"

"I feel as if someone had bashed my head in," Merry complained, but he was smiling. "May I see Pippin? He must have been quite worried."

"Of course, if I can get him to wake." Aragorn turned and called to the other side of the hollow which they had camped in. "Pippin! Come here; I have something I think you will wish to see."

The young hobbit stood, rubbing his eyes and blinking in the dawn light. Then his gaze fell on Merry and he came fully awake, bounding across the clearing until he stood hesitantly in front of Aragorn, who set Merry gently on his feet. He kept his hands on the hobbit's shoulders lest he should fall, but it was not needed, for when Merry spread his arms and allowed Pippin into his embrace, both hobbits sank to their knees. Merry ran a hand through Pippin's dark hair, and Pippin buried his face in his cousin's chest, tears rolling down his cheeks as his own hands fisted against Merry's waistcoat, bunching up the fabric.

"I'm here, Pip," Merry whispered, his grip fierce but his voice exceedingly tender. "I'm alright, and so are you."

"Oh, Merry, I was so frightened," Pippin choked out. "You wouldn't wake up and y-your fever was so high…a-and I thought Strider might not arrive in time, and though he did I worried so much…I prayed to Ilúvatar, Merry; you know I haven't done that before, and still you were s-so far away and…"

"I know," said Merry. "I know, Pip. But you don't have to be frightened anymore; we're both here, and alive, and out of that horrid dark tower. We're going to be alright, you'll see."

He rubbed the younger hobbit's back gently until Pippin's sobs subsided into sniffling, and slowly Pippin let Merry go, hoisting a weak smile onto his tearstained face. "I-I don't suppose you've met Dia?"

Merry was still quite shaky, and Aragorn bore him upon his back for the rest of the way into Long Cleeve. Pippin skipped over the grass beside them, telling Merry of Diamond, of the stone, of Saruman's demise and the escape from Orthanc. Though Pippin was a wild storyteller the latter tale retained most of its integrity, and Merry laughed joyfully at Pippin's cheerfulness. It was the happiest Aragorn had seen the hobbits since before Caradhras, and his heart swelled with affection for them; he could see why Boromir had loved them so.

Boromir. Thoughts of the man had weighed heavily on Aragorn's mind of late; he was troubled by Pippin's visions and feared that things that were not meant to be would now come to pass. Was it because Aragorn had diverged from the path that Gandalf had laid down for him? Or could he never have prevented these futures? Was it all up to fate? Aragorn had always thought so, had thought that there was something, perhaps Ilúvatar himself, dictating his destiny…he only knew that it was not Gandalf…

How could Boromir possibly exist in any living world, no matter how slim a chance it had at coming to light? How could this strange dark world have a chance at all?

Though Aragorn knew that Gandalf must be furious with him he wished the wizard were here to offer his counsel. Surely Gandalf would know what the stone was and what Pippin's visions meant, and surely he would be able to provide some semblance of a plan for them; Aragorn knew not what would happen after they left Long Cleeve. Always he had tried to look as far enough ahead as he could, always tried to anticipate the most likely future, but now all seemed shrouded and dark.

It was the leaving of the path, he knew that…he had left the clear path, the safe path, and stepped off it into something vast and unknown. Aragorn was glad that Legolas and Gimli had come with him, and that Merry and Pippin were safe, for those things had turned out well, but from here they seemed to be deviating from the plan; what if Aragorn led the company into danger? What if some new unforeseen complication arose, and they were flung violently into another quest, one that some if not all would not return from?

He screwed up his face, closing his eyes and trying to ground himself in the present moment. Aragorn focused on Merry's arms around his neck, on the soft pitter-patter of hobbit feet beside him, on the faint warmth of the sun upon his cheek. There were these good and comforting things here, now, and he should try to center himself on them lest he should lose sight of what truly mattered. But how could Aragorn possibly think on the present when there was such a vast and fearsome future looming upon the horizon, ready to swallow them all in its darkness? Sauron's forces were massing, and Pippin's visions did not exactly give Aragorn hope.

Hope! It was a strange and futile thing, it seemed, and though it was a part of him as much as Strider or Elessar, it felt foreign, as if it were somehow removed from his soul. Hope incarnate, Legolas had said of Aragorn soon after the start of the quest, and he had taken Aragorn's hand gently in his and pressed his lips to the Ranger's knuckles. That was how Aragorn had learned that Legolas loved him, and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart for the grief he had caused the elf in saying that his heart belonged to Arwen. It had been a hard week after that, and Aragorn kept his mind off the guilt by watching Boromir and the hobbits frolic in the hills.

But no, he had not meant to dwell on that…he had thought of his Elvish name, Estel, and now Aragorn felt unworthy to bear it. How could he possibly raise himself up as a symbol of hope when he had none, when he could see only the pain and sorrow that was sure to come now that Pippin had seen it through the stone?

Perhaps he was not meant to be king…

Diamond's voice cut through Aragorn's misted consciousness. "We are here. Follow me through the gates; I shall take you to Queen Honor Soulreaper. Do not speak out of turn and do not draw your weapons, and perhaps she shall see fit to spare your lives. Quickly!"

Aragorn looked ahead and saw a great stone wall, with towers upon it, bathed in the golden haze of dawn. The only breach in the wall came in the form of two gates, wrought of some strange silvery wood. As they drew nearer he could see two unusually tall hobbits with spears standing on either side of the gates.

Diamond stopped in front of the guards, drawing herself up to her full height, and said, "I am Firebringer, returned from my sojourn in Isengard. I bid you open the gates and let my company pass."

"It shall be done, Your Highness," said the guard on the left, and Aragorn saw that she was a maiden. "Welcome home, seler. You have stayed away far too long."

"Mother and Father will be pleased," added the guard on the right, his eyes sparkling with joy. "Though it may not last long. I hope Mother is not too harsh on you, runya."

"You speak from your own experience, Maj," said Diamond. "Mother has never been as cross with me as she has with you. Now open the gate, ai-toror, the dawn is still young and I shall not have it any older while we stand here dawdling."

Aragorn realized suddenly that the young hobbits had spoken Sindarin; the male hobbit had called Diamond flame, and she had called the guard her younger brother. The maiden hobbit had spoken of Diamond as her sister, and so they must all be the children of the queen of Long Cleeve. How did they know Sindarin? Surely there were no elves in these parts.

Then all thoughts of the Elvish dialect fled from Aragorn's mind and he stepped into the city, for the gates had opened. Diamond led them down a cobblestoned road, with Aragorn behind her, Pippin scampering alongside them, and Legolas and Gimli at the rear.

Aragorn looked back at the rising dawn, and behind them, the silver gates swung shut.

Diamond stopped before a small, circular door in a hill. The door was made of exceedingly dark wood, its knob burnished gold and carved with the emblem of a sword and arrow crossed over an eight-pointed star. This knob Diamond turned, motioning at the rest of the company to remain outside.

Aragorn tore his thoughts from the architecture of Long Cleeve—it was fascinating; there were so many small circular doors like this, and yet there were many columns and fences as well. It now sunk in fully that he and the company were about to meet a queen, and they did not in any way look presentable, save for Legolas. Who could tell the secrets of an elf's untarnished beauty?

He set Merry gently down, steadying the hobbit as he said, "I am sorry, my friend, but we must all make ourselves presentable and I need to see your face. I think we shall take the bandage off your head; the wound beneath it is clean, but the dressing is filthy."

"I should like to comb my hair," said Merry as Aragorn took the bandage from his forehead. "Pippin? Do you still have a comb? I fear I have lost mine at some point on our journey through Rohan."

"Of course I do!" Pippin exclaimed, and his hand darted into his cloak and pulled out a small, finely wrought rosewood comb, carved with intricate golden filigree. "Mind you don't break it, Merry; it cost Mum a fortune!"

He handed it to Merry, who began to pull it through his tangled blond curls. "I don't suppose you have one for my fetlocks, too?"

Pippin produced a second comb, much like the first but smaller. "I carry it always. I suppose I haven't given much thought to my fets, or to my hair either." He bent down and began to comb his own fetlocks, smoothing the dark tangles out into something resembling silk.

"Is that what you call them?" Aragorn asked, nodding toward the hobbit's feet. "Fets? You seem to take great pride in them."

"Most hobbits do," said Pippin, and he and Merry exchanged combs. "I for one have been growing them out. It helps keep my feet warm when the ground is cold. My cloak does not cover all that it should."

At the mention of the cloak Aragorn remembered quite suddenly the brooch he had slipped into his pocket on the way to Isengard. He now brought it out, handing it to Pippin. "I found this on the road, my friend. I apologize for the delay in returning it; all thoughts of it had fled my mind."

Pippin took it joyfully into his hands. "Thank you, Strider! I had thought I should never see it again; it was a great wrench to cast it aside, but I feared that you might not find us otherwise." He clasped the glimmering brooch onto his cloak, lending a splash of color to the soft gray, and then began to comb his hair, brushing the tangles out. When he had finished Legolas seized the comb and began to straighten his own silky hair, which to Aragorn still looked immaculate.

By the time Diamond returned, the rest of the company had combed their hair as best they could, arrayed their cloaks to hide the worst of the mud and blood, and succeeded in looking as though they had journeyed for perhaps one month instead of two. It was not much of an improvement, but Aragorn hoped that Honor would still be hospitable.

"You clean up fairly well," Diamond decided after a moment of looking at them. "Follow me. I have explained to the guards our circumstances, and they say that Mother has allowed us to enter."

Her gaze narrowed. "I will remind you that my mother's alkaressa is Soulreaper. Do not speak out of turn and do not provoke her. She is a fiercely protective mother and wife, and she would as soon kill you as look at you. Of course, she will not harm you if you do not harm her or those she rules. She is, of course, an honorable hobbit-maid."

She pulled the door open, and Aragorn stooped down to avoid striking his head on the frame. Pippin followed, Merry leaning on him for balance, with Legolas and Gimli close behind.

The room beyond the door was small, and Aragorn guessed it must have been the entrance chamber, for two guards stood at the other side of it in front of a pair of doors much larger than the first. The hobbits eyes the company warily but stepped aside, pushing the doors open, and Diamond led them inside.

A vast underground chamber lay before them. Torches were placed in sconces every few feet along the walls, illuminating the recesses of the room, and a great candlelit chandelier hung suspended from the ceiling. On the opposite side of the chamber was a throne, carved of white wood and twisting into an intricate filigree at the top. Upon this sat a maiden hobbit, clad in a suit of leather armor and with a crown of silver and diamonds set upon her dark curls. Her eyes were much like Diamond's, fierce and penetrating, and her fetlocks were silky and pure black.

But none of these were Queen Honor's most striking quality. Indeed, once his eyes had focused on it, the ring was all Aragorn could see.

For the queen of Long Cleeve had about her neck a silver chain, and threaded upon it was a golden ring. Even without fire it shone with glowing script, and Aragorn could feel its power tugging at him from ten yards away. The ring glinted in a way the One Ring never had; he could tell that it had drawn everyone's eyes.

"Queen Honor Soulreaper," said Diamond, and she knelt upon the earthen floor, looking into her mother's eyes as she placed a fisted hand over her heart. "I come to you after two moons in Isengard. I pray that you will receive me back into the kingdom, for my sojourn was not willfully undertaken. I was captured by the armies of Saruman and taken to Orthanc, where I remained until my company arrived. Will you grant them permission to speak?"

"A moment, Firebringer," said Honor, raising a hand. She rose from her throne and descended the two steps to the ground. "Before I meet any new folk, I must greet my daughter. Valor, step out of the shadow and come see; our runya has returned."

She put her arms around Diamond in an embrace, and Aragorn watched as a male hobbit came forth from the darkness behind the queen's throne. He wore a silver circlet much like Diamond's, and his skin was several shades paler than his wife's, while his hair was a soft, sandy brown. Valor must have been Diamond's father, for he joined the embrace, and Aragorn smiled at the display of affection.

"Oh, Dia," Valor said softly. "We had feared the worst."

"You needn't have," Diamond replied, stepping back and looking her father in the eyes. "All was well in the end. May my company have permission to speak?"

"They may," Honor consented, sitting back down upon her throne. "Welcome, friends of Firebringer. I am Honor Soulreaper of the house of Dellshore, Queen of Long Cleeve, and this is my consort, Valor Skychaser of the house of Deeproot. What are you all called? Let us start with the eldest among you."

"That would be me, my queen," said Legolas, placing a fist over his heart as Diamond had done. "I am Legolas son of Thranduil of Mirkwood, and it is an honor to be in your presence. Allow me to introduce my companion, Gimli son of Glóin, most excellent of dwarves." Gimli nodded curtly, greeting Honor with his own salute.

Aragorn realized that his turn to speak had come, and he let his own hand rest over his heart. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, my queen, though the hobbits among us call me Strider. I lead this company as best as I am able, although I do not profess myself to be any sort of authority. We are grateful for your hospitality and I hope that we do not intrude upon your time."

Honor nodded slowly, blinking eyes framed by long dark lashes. "You do not intrude, Strider. Indeed, it is my honor to be in your presence, for I think I know who you are. But we shall speak of that later. What of the hobbits? They are like none that I have ever seen."

"I am Meriadoc Brandybuck of the Shire," said Merry robustly. "Son of Saradoc, Master of Buckland. My cousin—"

Pippin elbowed him. "I can introduce myself, thank you very much!" He turned to face the queen, a look of supreme joviality on his face. "I am Peregrin Took, son of Paladin of the Shire, though most call me Pippin, or even Pip, though that's if you're quite close to me. I have heard much about you, and I have drawn the conclusion that you are a remarkable maiden hobbit, for your alkaressa is truly awe-inspiring. How did you come by that name?"

"My prowess with a scythe," the queen said. "Forward, aren't we, little one? How many winters have you seen?"

"Twenty-eight," said Pippin proudly. "A scythe seems quite difficult to master; I myself have only ever used a small sword. I wonder if I might ask about that ring? It looks much like one I have encountered before."

Silence fell in the chamber, and Aragorn wondered if the queen would spring from her throne and strangle Pippin for asking, the ring on the chain looked so much like the One Ring. But Honor only smiled, and it was a faint, dark, terrifying leer. "This, young Peregrin Took, is Reena-domë. The Edge of Night. The Shadow Incarnate."

Her eyes flashed with an emerald fire. "The Ring of Melkor."