Author's Note:

Thank you guys for staying with me despite the long hiatus, taking the time to review and most of all, for your understanding. I appreciate it so much!

I had written a bit ahead, so I wouldn't have to keep you waiting that long this time. I'm excited to present the next chapter to you! I hope you will enjoy this chapter! The next two chapters are also almost done, so you can be on the lookout for more relatively soon.

The Ring Goes South

The Fellowship had been traveling for days, making their way steadily across open plains and rolling hills. The journey was slow but steady, the clear sky offering no relief from the growing chill in the air. The land stretched endlessly ahead of them, vast and unyielding.

Aang had begun to fall into the rhythm of their travels—walking, setting up camp, keeping watch. His worries about the dream had faded to the back of his mind, replaced by the everyday demands of the road. This daily rhythm reminded him of the days during their own mission to end the war with the fire nation. And it made him miss his lifelong friend and pet companion tremendously. Though he knew that Appa and Momo were fine and safe, he couldn't shake the ache in his chest. Every time the wind rushed past, he imagined the familiar sound of Appa's bellow, the comforting presence of his oldest friend. But Appa wasn't here. He had to trust that they'd be reunited when the time was right.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, they reached the crest of a hill and paused to rest. The wind whispered through the dry grass, carrying a faint bite of winter. Gandalf stood at the highest point, his staff planted firmly in the earth, and addressed the group.

"We must hold this course west of the Misty Mountains for forty days," the wizard declared. "If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will remain open to us. From there, we turn east to Mordor."

Sokka, sitting on a nearby rock with a hand-drawn map spread across his lap, furrowed his brow. He had been flipping through the map and scanning some of the documents Aang had given him about Middle-earth, trying to get a sense of their route. "So… forty days straight, and then we turn? That's it?" He squinted up at Gandalf. "No shortcuts? No alternate routes?"

Boromir snorted. "I like this one! Always looking for a quicker way."

Sokka grinned. "Thanks, that's what good leaders do! Back in my world, I was the one keeping track of routes and schedules, making sure we didn't, you know, starve to death in the desert."

At that, Katara let out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh yes, starving in the desert. Remind me again who actually got us out of the desert?"

Toph smirked. "Yeah, pretty sure it wasn't you, Sokka."

Suki chuckled from where she sat beside Sokka, checking her fans. "Wow, sounds like you were really on top of things, Sokka."

Sokka groaned. "Okay, technically that's true, but my leadership was still very important."

Gandalf gave him an amused glance. "I assure you, Master Sokka, our path has been considered carefully."

Sokka sighed and held up his map. "Okay, but hear me out—what if we shave off a few days by—"

"No," Gandalf said flatly, not even looking at him.

Sokka groaned and rolled up the map. "Fine. But if we get delayed, don't come crying to me."

Gandalf shook his head.

Gimli cleared his throat. "If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note they're not, I'd say we're taking the long way round. Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome."

Gandalf's expression darkened, his voice firm. "No, Gimli. I will not take the roads through Moria unless I have no other choice."

ooooo

As the group settled in for a brief rest, Boromir stood a short distance away, a sword in hand, watching as Merry and Pippin mimicked his stance.

"Two, one, five," Boromir instructed, demonstrating a precise series of movements. "Good. Very good."

Merry grinned as he swung his blade. "You look good, Pippin."

"Thanks." Pippin puffed out his chest before suddenly having to dodge Boromir's next move.

"Faster!" Boromir called, adjusting Pippin's grip.

Aragorn, leaning casually against a rock, observed the practice with a critical eye. "Move your feet," he added.

Sokka, who had been watching with interest, suddenly jumped to his feet and drew his own blade—the one his father had passed down to him. He gripped it firmly, though his fingers still ached at the memory of the space sword he had made with Master Piandao.

"Alright, let me try!" Sokka grinned, looking at Boromir.

Boromir arched an eyebrow. "You know how to use that?"

Sokka spun the blade in his hand. "I was trained by the best swordsman in my world." He made a show of performing a couple of swift moves, the blade cutting the air cleanly.

"Oh, really?" Boromir smirked. "Show me, then."

Merry and Pippin quickly scrambled aside as Sokka and Boromir faced each other. The Water Tribe warrior held his blade in a defensive stance, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

Boromir tested him with a quick swipe, but Sokka deflected it smoothly, countering with a sharp thrust. Boromir's expression shifted to surprise as he had to step back. "Not bad."

"I know," Sokka said smugly.

Aragorn watched the exchange with interest. "Sokka, where did you learn to fight like that?"

Sokka sheathed his sword with a grin. "A master swordsman took me under his wing. Taught me everything I know." He hesitated for a moment. "I… had another sword once. Made it myself. But I lost it in battle."

Aragorn nodded, his expression understanding. "Sometimes, losing something doesn't mean losing what it gave you."

Sokka blinked, then smiled. "That's really wise, thank you, Aragorn." He realised that he actually needed to hear that.

Aragorn acknowledged his gratitude. "You fight well." Aragorn had watched him closely, recognising the calculated footwork and precise movements of a warrior trained with discipline. But beyond the skill, he saw something else—pride, and perhaps a trace of sorrow. Sokka spoke of his lost sword lightly, but Aragorn knew well the weight a weapon could carry, not just in battle, but in memory. He had lost many things to war, too.

Merry and Pippin eagerly jumped back in to attack Boromir together. For a moment, all was laughter and movement, until Boromir accidentally struck Pippin's hand with his blade's flat side.

"Sorry!" Boromir winced.

Pippin yelped in exaggerated pain. "Aaah!" Without missing a beat, he kicked Boromir's shin.

Boromir stumbled slightly. "Ah!"

"Get him!" Merry shouted.

The two hobbits lunged at Boromir, tackling him to the ground. Aragorn and Sokka burst into laughter as Boromir, despite his strength, was no match for the sheer determination of the Shirefolk.

"For the Shire!" Pippin cried triumphantly.

"Hold him, Merry!"

Boromir wrestled with the two hobbits as Aragorn shook his head, chuckling. "Gentlemen, that's enough."

He stepped forward, only to be caught in the fray and knocked backward as well.

Merry let out a victorious cheer. "He got my arm! He got my arm!"

As laughter erupted from the sparring group, Katara handed out bowls of stew.

"This is wonderful," Sam said, pleased as he took a bite.

"Thanks," Katara replied, handing a bowl to Frodo.

"Thank you, Katara," Frodo politely said while taking his bowl.

"Cooking is an art," Sam said seriously. "And an important one at that."

"Absolutely," Katara agreed, handing another bowl to Legolas.

Legolas accepted his bowl with a nod. "Thank you, Katara. It is a rare thing to find such warmth, especially on a journey like this," he said, at which Katara smiled. He took a measured bite before glancing at Gimli, who had just received his portion. The Dwarf sniffed at the meal before taking a large, satisfied bite.

"Not bad," Gimli admitted.

Sokka grinned. He took his own bowl of stew took a seat between the Elf and the Dwarf. "See? Food brings people together! And yet, I can't help but notice that you two don't really talk much." He gestured between Legolas and Gimli. He had found out about the feud between Elves and Dwarves back in Rivendell while on a merry search for food. Now he had found a perfect chance to address it.

Aragorn, who had been resting nearby, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He had long given up trying to mend the rift between Elves and Dwarves. It was an ancient quarrel, far beyond simple reasoning.

The Elf shot the Dwarf a look. "Dwarves and Elves do not have much to say to each other."

Gimli huffed. "Aye, not unless it's about how Elves think they're better than everyone else."

Legolas's expression didn't change, but his tone carried a sharp edge. "Perhaps because we are."

Gimli bristled. "Oh, you pointy-eared—"

Katara, sitting nearby, immediately held up a hand. "Okay, wow. I don't know how long this has been going on, but you two are really good at holding grudges."

Frodo, who had been eating quietly, looked between them with concern. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that even among allies, there were divisions. Sam, beside him, let out a small sigh and muttered, "That's just how it is, isn't it, Mr. Frodo?" Frodo nodded.

Gimli folded his arms. "It's been going on for generations, lass. There's a history here."

Sokka raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Because I once spent a really long day trying to mediate a feud between two tribes back home, and trust me—it turned out their 'history' was just a bunch of misunderstandings and pettiness."

Boromir, who had been listening with mild amusement, chuckled. "That sounds about right."

Gimli scoffed. "Misunderstandings? Pettiness? Bah! Dwarves have long memories, lad. The Elves betrayed us."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "And the Dwarves have never done the same?"

Katara sighed, rubbing her temples. "Okay, so… neither of you actually started the feud, but you're both keeping it going?"

Sokka smirked. "Classic."

Pippin nudged Merry and whispered, "This is getting good."

Gimli scowled. "You wouldn't understand, boy."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" Sokka leaned forward. "Back home, we were at war for a hundred years! You don't think we had ancient grudges? But here's the thing—we learned that those grudges don't get you anywhere."

Katara gave a knowing smile. "They just make life harder for everyone involved."

Zuko, who had been sitting quietly on the edge of the group, glanced over at them with a neutral expression, but something flickered in his eyes. If anyone understood old grudges and the pain they caused, it was him. He understood all too well what it was like to inherit a feud that wasn't truly his. To be raised with the belief that war was justified, that the past dictated the present. It had taken him too long to realize that some battles weren't worth fighting. He wondered if Gimli and Legolas would ever come to that same understanding.

Legolas glanced at Gimli, just for a second, as if considering his words before choosing not to respond. Gimli, for his part, softly muttered, "Bah. Doesn't change anything," but it lacked the usual bite. It was small, almost imperceptible—but something between them had shifted, even if neither of them realized it yet.

Sokka shrugged. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

Katara exchanged a look with her brother before turning back to the two warriors. "Well, if you two ever feel like, I don't know, talking about what actually happened instead of holding onto centuries-old bitterness, we'll be right here."

Gimli grumbled again, but Katara swore she saw the smallest hint of a smirk. Legolas simply shook his head with a sigh.

As the conversation moved on and the group readied themselves to leave, Sokka leaned toward Katara. "Bet you five silver pieces that by the end of this trip, those two are gonna be best friends."

Katara smirked. "You're on."

Aang smiled, glad about their mission to bring the Elf and the Dwarf together during their quest.

Aragorn chuckled softly, shaking his head. Frodo watched the exchange with quiet amusement, and even Zuko, despite himself, let out a small huff of laughter.

Gandalf stroked his beard thoughtfully, watching the Water Tribe siblings with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "It is a rare thing to see old wounds challenged with such earnestness," he mused. "Perhaps fresh eyes are exactly what this company needs."

Aragorn nodded. "They are unburdened by the history that weighs on the rest of us. And yet, they do not dismiss it. They seek to understand." He glanced toward Legolas and Gimli, who were still stubbornly avoiding eye contact. "If nothing else, they may be the push we never knew we needed."

Gandalf chuckled. "Then let us hope they remain as persistent as they are now."

Suddenly, Legolas tensed, his keen eyes locking onto something in the distance. He climbed onto a stone to get a better look at the horizon.

Sam noticed his gaze sharpening. "What is that?"

Gimli waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing. It's just a wisp of cloud."

Boromir frowned. "It's moving fast… against the wind."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "Crebain from Dunland!"

Immediately, Aragorn's expression darkened. "Hide!"

Boromir's voice rang out. "Hurry!"

The Fellowship scrambled into action. Sam stomped out the fire as the others grabbed their packs and ducked behind rocks and into bushes. The sound of flapping wings grew louder as a swarm of black birds swept over the hill, their piercing cries filling the air.

Aang, who had dived into a bush beside Frodo and Merry, peeked up at the passing birds and whispered, "That is way too many birds."

"Tell me about it," Merry muttered.

The birds circled twice before veering back toward the south. Aang frowned, watching the black birds vanish over the horizon. Something about them unsettled him, and not just because they worked for the enemy. They moved in perfect coordination, not like a normal flock, but as if driven by a single will. It reminded him of the way the Fire Nation's war machines moved across battlefields. Cold, unnatural, and relentless.

The Fellowship emerged from hiding when the sky was clear.

Gandalf's face was grim. "Spies of Saruman. The passage south is being watched."

The air felt colder somehow, the weight of unseen eyes pressing upon them.

Gandalf turned toward the looming mountains in the distance. "We must take the Pass of Caradhras."

A heavy silence followed his words.

Gimli snorted. "So we are going to climb over the snowy mountain instead of taking the shorter route, under it?"

Gandalf didn't reply. He wanted to avoid the route Gimli was referring to at all costs. He made his way toward the pass of Caradhras.

Toph crossed her arms. "Ugh. You've got to be kidding me." She hated ice and snow. It was the one environment that made her feel completely blind. She took her metal stick, the one she had brought to Middle Earth especially for situations like these.

Sokka groaned. "So, we're taking an even longer route now? Great," he added sarcastically.

Suki patted his arm. "Maybe the universe likes seeing you suffer."

Sokka sighed. "Yeah, that checks out."

And with that, the Fellowship prepared to face the next stage of their journey, into the icy heights of Caradhras.

ooooo

To Be Continued...