DISCLAIMER:  Of course. The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

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WHISPERS OF THE DRAGON

Chapter 1 --- The Dragon

“Sam, you’re going to wear that cloak out before you’ve had it a day.”

Sam sighed with pure wonder.  “It’s just the most amazin’ cloth, Mr. Frodo.  I can’t figure what they made it out of.”  He fingered an edge of the Elven cloak once again, then touched the green and silver leaf brooch lightly, reverently.  “Me, Sam Gamgee, dressed in such a thing as this.  And carryin’ a gift from the Lady herself.  Who’d a thought it?”  His eyes grew misty once again, gazing past Aragorn back up the river, back toward Lórien.

Frodo nodded, shifting his weight a bit as his back was beginning to pain him.  He was sitting with Sam in the bow of the little boat, finding the wooden seats most uncomfortable.  For most of the afternoon Aragorn had sat alone in the middle seat, paddling when there was need.  The middle seat would not have allowed two Men to sit together, but one Man and a hobbit had room to sit side by side if they chose.  Each boat contained packs and traveling gear of the Company, coils of the soft Elven rope, boat covers, waterskins, and a supply of lembas and other foods packed by the Elves -- some of it stowed under the small seat in the stern, some lying between the middle and rear seats.  The Elves had outfitted each boat with leaf-bladed paddles, several shortened for a hobbit’s use.  Or a dwarf’s.

Legolas and Boromir kept their boats just behind Aragorn, the current carrying them all swiftly southwards.

Aragorn smiled when Sam let go of the cloak and reached his hand out, once again, to grasp the side of the little craft.  The Ranger had never seen anyone less at ease on the water, and the hours that had passed since leaving Lórien had done nothing to calm Sam’s suspicions about this mode of travel.  Sam and Gimli were the only members of the Company who could not swim at all, and neither planned to start anytime soon.

Frodo moved carefully to sit down next to Aragorn.  Now that the sun was starting to set behind the western hills, he felt he could look at the glittering river once again, as he suspected it had been the sun sparkling all day on the water that had been making his head ache.  He pulled his cloak tightly about him in the chill air and yawned.

“Frodo, did you get any sleep last night at all?” Aragorn asked.

“Very little,” Frodo sighed.  “We talked so long and so late, afterwards I just couldn’t stop thinking about... things.”  He pulled his legs up, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Tomorrow, pad a seat with one of the bedrolls until you get accustomed to it.  Remember when we left Rivendell, and hardly any of you could walk more than a few hours at a time up in those mountains?”  Frodo nodded.  “You’ll get used to this, too.”  Aragorn looked up.  “Even Sam may get used to it!”

“Strider, there’s just nothin’ natural about boats and that’s all there is to it,” Sam said vehemently.  “Even Elf boats.”

Aragorn looked down as Frodo tried to stifle another yawn.  He motioned behind them.  “Lie down as best you can on the packs.  Maybe you can fall asleep.”

Frodo was about to protest when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to keep his eyes open much longer.  The sleepless night, the long hike that morning, and the quiet, motionless hours on the boat were lulling him to sleep against his will.  Maybe a bit of sleep would ease his headache and clear away the odd disorientation he had been feeling for most of the afternoon.  He climbed back to where the packs and gear were kept and burrowed between them, then curled up with his cloak wrapped about him and was asleep in minutes.

After sunset, Aragorn saw a good spot ahead on the western shore to camp, and he motioned to the other boats to follow him.  They paddled hard and came to a level, gravelled beach surrounded by trees.  Legolas and Boromir leaped out of their boats and pulled them up on shore.  Gimli, Pippin, and Merry started unloading gear.

Frodo was only dimly aware that they had stopped, of someone lifting him, being carried.  “Aragorn,” he murmured, too groggy to fully awaken.

“You can sleep, Frodo, it’s all right.”  Aragorn laid him gently down on the bedroll Sam had shaken out under a tree and covered him warmly.  “Head... hurts...” Frodo whispered, before sinking back into the strangely deep sleep.  The Ranger frowned and felt the hobbit’s forehead for fever, but found none.  It seemed best to just let him sleep.

A short distance away, the Company sat in the growing darkness on some blankets and fallen logs, munching bread and the dried fruit and meats the Elves had packed for them.  Aragorn joined them, and decided the time had come to set a few rules for the journey -- especially for the hobbits.

“We’ve done well today, but have a long journey yet ahead... a fortnight, perhaps less.”  Aragorn unpinned the emerald and silver brooch from his tunic, and looked at it for a moment before pushing it into a pocket in his pack.  “We must put away anything that might reflect the sun and attract attention.”  He nodded approvingly as, without a word, Merry and Pippin immediately took off the silver belts given to them by Galadriel and put them away.  Boromir had removed his golden belt earlier in the day, not entirely at ease with wearing it.  “Everyone must learn to use the paddles, to steer and turn at need.  Anyone who doesn’t know how should ask, and practice.”  Sam sighed, but nodded.

“Remember,” Aragorn said, trying not to look at Pippin, “the lembas is a valuable gift, given to sustain those of us who accompany Frodo to Mount Doom.  We must use it sparingly until then.”

“We are no longer within protected borders.  We must be vigilant, and not only at night.  Sound carries far over the water.  No singing, or shouting, and only quiet talking in the boats.  We’ve tarried in Lórien longer than you may think, and the Enemy has not been idle.  No fires at night unless there is great need.  We must stay alert.  Anyone in need of rest...” and here he nodded toward Frodo’s sleeping form, “should say so.  A tired sentry is a bad sentry.”  He looked around, gratified to see the hobbits gazing at him so seriously.  They had come a long way.

Legolas and Gimli volunteered to take the first watch, and the rest rolled up in their cloaks and blankets, Sam and Merry on either side of Frodo, Pippin on the other side of Merry.

“Merry,” Pippin whispered, “I’m cold.”

“Come on then,” Merry said, making room between him and Frodo.  Pippin nestled between them and burrowed down into his blankets.  Before falling asleep, Merry reached a hand across Pippin and let it rest lightly on Frodo’s shoulder; he noticed that Sam had done the same.  Neither had forgotten the encounter with Gollum within the borders of the Golden Wood.  They were taking no chances.

*~*~*~*~*

Frodo awoke to a chill morning, roused by Sam gently calling his name.  He was startled to learn that he had somehow slept through dinner and would likely have slept through breakfast, as well.  He rose, grateful that his head had stopped pounding.  He ate ravenously of the bread, cheese, and dried fruits, and noticed that the strange feeling of disorientation from the day before had disappeared as well.

“How are you doing, Frodo?” asked Aragorn, coming to sit by him.  He had been talking quietly with Legolas, who joined them as well.

“Fine.  I felt so strange yesterday I thought I might be getting sick, but it seems to have passed.”

“Interesting,” Legolas mused.

“What do you mean?”

The Elf looked thoughtful.  “Aragorn and I were just talking about how you were feeling last night.  There is a transition of sorts between Lothlórien and the rest of Middle-earth.  Time flows a bit differently there than here.  You seem to have been affected by it, although I would not have thought a mortal would sense such a subtle thing.  Perhaps the presence of... what you carry... has given you a sharper perception of what is -- for the most part -- unseen and unfelt by others.”  He smiled at Frodo and rose to help Gimli pack the remainder of their gear.

The Ring.  During their last days in Lórien, Frodo had been able to all but forget that it hung about his neck, but as soon as they left the borders he had felt its presence strongly once again.  He finished eating and helped with the packing, thinking about what Legolas had said.  If the Ring was altering his perceptions, what else might it be doing to him?

*~*~*~*~*

Sam tried, he really did.  After about half an hour, though, Aragorn gently uncurled Sam’s rigid fingers from the paddle and conceded that maybe the hobbit could better serve as lookout than boatsman.

“It’s all right Sam,” Frodo sat in the forward seat (now well padded), and reached to pat his friend on the knee.  “You do everything else so well, I suppose we had to discover one skill lacking!”

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said ruefully.  “It’s just when I lean out and push the paddle in the water, I just know I’m either goin’ to drop it or tumble right over the side or...”  He sighed.  “It’s just not natural, a Gamgee and water, and that’s that.”

Frodo saw that in the boat just behind, Boromir was giving Pippin a few pointers.  Merry, it turned out, had needed no instruction at all.

“I wonder whose boat Gandalf would have been in,” Frodo mused quietly.  “He might have wanted to keep an eye on Pippin and keep him from falling overboard, but I think Pip’s grown up so much he wouldn’t recognize him.”  Frodo’s heart still ached for Gandalf, but the stay in Lórien had been a very healing time and at least now he could talk about him.

“I suspect the Elves would have given us a fourth boat if there were still nine of us,” said Aragorn.  “It’s amusing to picture Gandalf paddling down the river with us in that outlandish hat.”  He was glad to see Frodo smile.  “If we would have been using boats, that is.  What plans Gandalf had past Lórien I suppose we will never know.”

“I suppose not,” Frodo said.  He looked around.  “Bilbo would have loved this.  He always wanted to go everywhere and see everything.  He’d be traveling still, if he hadn’t grown old and frail so quickly.  It was hard to see him... that way...”  Frodo suddenly turned pale.  “Old and frail,” he whispered to himself, aghast at a sudden thought.  He looked at Sam, wide-eyed.

“Mr. Frodo, there’s no point in thinkin’ such things,” Sam declared.

Aragorn was looking from one hobbit to the other, completely confused.  “What are you two talking about?”

Frodo looked up at him, obviously shaken.  “Aragorn, how old do you think I am?”

“What difference does...”

“Please.  I know you’ve been helping guard the Shire for years; you must know more about hobbits than anyone except for Gandalf.  How old do I look?”

Aragorn saw that Frodo was deadly serious about something, even a bit frightened.  “I know you’re of age, Frodo.  Sam and Merry seem about the same age as one another, and you look a bit younger.  Pippin’s much younger, no doubt about that.  What is this all about?”

When Frodo didn’t answer, Sam said, “That’s a good guess, Strider.  I’m 38 and Mr. Merry is 36.  Mr. Pippin is 28; he’ll be a tween for a few years yet.”

“I’m 50, Aragorn,” said Frodo.

“You are?  You don’t look any older than---”

“I know,” Frodo said.  “It’s the Ring.  I’ve had it since I was 33, and haven’t aged a day since.”  He sighed.  “I’d gotten used to it, you know... always looking the same.  The way Bilbo always looked the same -- until he got rid of it.”

“I see,” Aragorn said quietly.  “He didn’t start to age again until he got rid of the Ring.  And when you get rid of it...”

“Yes.”  Frodo looked out at the shoreline going by and said nothing more.

“Fifty is hardly old and frail,” said Aragorn after a few minutes.  “I passed 50 quite a few years ago, and I can still stagger about and feed myself on occasion.”

Frodo laughed, then grew serious again.  “I just never thought of it before.  I think the Ring is filling my head with all the reasons why I shouldn’t destroy it.  Why I should...” he absently fingered the chain about his neck.

“It’s like the dragon, isn’t it?” asked Sam suddenly.

Frodo was startled out of his reverie.  “What do you mean?”

“It’s like that dragon from Mr. Bilbo’s adventure.  That Smaug.  He said dragons tell you just enough truth to make you believe everything they say.  You stop listenin’ to yourself and start listenin’ to them.  You can’t listen to dragons, that’s all.  You can’t look ’em in the eye.”  He looked at Frodo intently.  “You can’t listen, Mr. Frodo.  You just can’t.”

“Sam,” Frodo whispered.  He bowed his head, his hand dropping into his lap.  He took a deep breath.  “Thank you.”

Aragorn put his arm around Sam’s shoulders.  “Forget about the paddling, Sam.  Frodo is right --- you do everything else very well indeed.”

** TBC **

WHISPERS OF THE DRAGON

Chapter 2 --- Smoke and Mirrors

The second day on the River passed uneventfully, as did the third.  By the time the fourth afternoon arrived, Pippin was so restless he thought he would burst.  (But he made a great effort not to.)  He was sitting next to Boromir, and Merry was lying down between the front and middle seats thinking about nothing in particular.

Pippin kicked his cousin lightly on the leg.  “How can you be comfortable down there, Merry?  It’s all damp.”

”If this is the wettest I get by the time we get to the end of this river, I’ll be lucky.”  Merry frowned a little.  “Strange sky today.  Don’t you think so, Boromir?”

“It is a peculiar color, I’ll grant you that.  A storm coming up, most likely.”

Pippin sighed, thoroughly bored.  As he had no idea where they were, it felt like every day was the same and they weren’t getting anywhere.  “Where are we?  Have we come very far yet?”

Boromir started to talk when he realized that Merry was already answering Pippin’s question.

“To the east are the Brown Lands,” Merry said lazily.  “Not much to speak of there.  To the west are some hills and Downs and then that Fangorn Forest we’re supposed to stay away from.” 

Boromir was staring down at him, amazed at the hobbit’s knowledge of lands he had never seen. 

Merry continued,  “Really, Pip what did you do all that time in Rivendell?  There were maps all over the place.”

“I didn’t think they’d let me come, you know,” said Pippin quietly.  “Even if they let you accompany Frodo, I figured they’d bundle me up right quick and ship me home.  Just didn’t seem to be any need to study maps and things.”

Merry sat up, taken by Pippin’s serious tone.  “Are you still glad Elrond let you come?”

”Yes,” said Pippin firmly.  He looked up at the darkening sky and desolate lands about them.  “Well, most of the time.”

At the next likely spot, Aragorn called a halt.  A breeze coming from the east made it easy to bring the boats to the western side of the river.

“We should cover the boats and make camp.  I don’t like the look of that sky.”

Everyone complied, piling some food and bedding near a scraggly tree under some extra waterproof covers the elves had provided.  Frodo had just dropped his pack on the pile, when he looked up the grassy slope and froze.  His mouth moved soundlessly in one word, “Gandalf?”  Frodo suddenly took off at a dead run up the slope, and was past the trees before anyone knew what was happening.

“Frodo!”  Aragorn shouted, but the hobbit didn’t stop.  “Boromir, keep everyone here.  Don’t let them scatter.  Sam, stay here!”

Frodo had run through the scattered trees and out onto a grassy meadow before Aragorn caught up, grabbing him and forcing him down to the ground  They lay, gasping for breath.

“Frodo, where are you going?  Why didn’t you stop?”  Aragorn shook Frodo gently, as the hobbit seemed not to hear him.

“Aragorn?”  Frodo looked around with a puzzled look on his face.  “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“Gandalf!  I saw him, Aragorn, he was waving to me.  He was...” Frodo pointed at the empty meadow.  “He was right...”

“I don’t know what you saw, but we have to get back.  Gandalf isn’t here, Frodo.  He can’t be.”  The Ranger rose, helping Frodo to his feet.  “Come on, we’ll---”

At that moment there was a blinding light and thunderous crash... then another.   Frodo gasped and pressed his hands over his ears.  Twin lightning strikes out of the unquiet sky had ignited the dry winter grass between them and the trees through which they had just emerged.  Before they could react, a breeze from the east whipped into a strong wind, helping the fire spread and blowing thick smoke directly at them.  The two companions retreated helplessly before the spreading blaze.  The meadow was burning in a long line in front of them, making it nearly impossible to go around the fire.

“Frodo, listen to me,” Aragorn said urgently.  “I think something lured you out here.  There’s no safety on this side of the fire; we have to get back to camp.”

Frodo nodded, looking about in confusion.  Of course it couldn’t have been Gandalf.  What had he been thinking?  The smoke was already reaching them.  It had all happened so fast neither could quite believe it.

“Get on my back and hang on,” Aragorn continued urgently.”  “I’m going to run through this as fast as I can.  Frodo... if I fall or can’t run for any reason, get up and go.  Understand?  Run back to the river.”

“Leave you?  But...” Frodo was staring at him, his eyes wide.

“Promise me, Frodo.  Something strange is going on.  If anything happens to me, keep going.  Promise.”

“Aragorn,” Frodo whispered, “nothing will happen to you.”

Aragorn knelt, and gave Frodo a quick hug.  He pulled Frodo’s hood up and around his face to protect him, then pulled his own hood up.  “Hop on.”  Frodo got on his back, his arms around the Ranger’s neck.

Aragorn stood up.  “When I say so, take a deep breath and hold it as long as you can.  Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Take a deep breath, now!”

Aragorn plunged into the thick smoke.  He had planned to run as quickly as he could, but within a few feet realized he couldn’t see where he was going.  With his left hand he pressed an edge of his cloak up to his face to help keep out the smoke, and he groped in front of him with his right hand, unable to see more than a few feet ahead.  This is no ordinary fire, he thought.  He heard Frodo starting to cough, and tried to go faster.  It was almost as if something was slowing him down, keeping him from getting Frodo to safety.  He fought his way forward with all his strength.

Frodo felt heat all around him, and kept his eyes tightly shut.  When he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, he took a deep gasp of smoke-filled air and started coughing.  He tried to focus on holding on, holding on tight.  He felt Aragorn stumble and almost fall, before righting himself and continuing on.

Suddenly, to his horror, Frodo saw the fiery letters from the Ring blazing in front of his closed eyes.  He hadn’t seen the ancient lettering since that morning in the Shire, when Gandalf had thrown the Ring into his small fire in Bag End.  He felt an urge to run back to the meadow, to take the Ring and run.  It was almost overwhelming.  No, he thought desperately, leave me alone.  He shook his head and moaned, everything starting to spin around him.

Aragorn felt Frodo start to lose his grip on his tunic, and just in time he grabbed the small hands and held them tightly against him.  They had to be almost there... suddenly he felt hands reach out from in front of him and grab his cloak.  He was pulled forward.  The air grew cool and clear once again, and he stumbled to his knees into Legolas’ arms at the top of the same slope Frodo had first dashed up.  Somebody pulled Frodo off him and he felt the cold wind in his face.  A water bottle was held to his mouth.

With his eyes still tightly closed, Frodo felt the cool air surround him as Aragorn sank to the ground.  Someone grabbed him.  Confused by the vision of the Ring still before him, he fought to get away.

“You can’t have it!” he yelled.

“Hold him, Gimli.  Frodo, it is I, Legolas.  You are safe.”  Frodo felt cool hands pressed to his face and tried to focus on the soft voice.  “You are safe, Frodo.  Do not fight.  Open your eyes.”

The vision of the Ring slowly faded and disappeared.  Frodo opened his eyes and looked around, coughing.  He was on the ground, being supported by Gimli.  Legolas, kneeling in front of him, pressed a water bottle to his mouth.  The icy water soothed his throat before a fresh bout of coughing shook his small body.

“Easy, Frodo.”  Aragorn murmured from where he sat next to the hobbit.  “Drink more, that’s it.  Don’t try to talk.”

Frodo suddenly felt panic welling up again.  “I won’t listen!  You can’t have it!”  He looked around wildly, then sagged against Gimli.  “So tired,” he whispered, his eyelids fluttering closed.  “What’s happening?”

Aragorn turned to the Elf.  “Frodo is in danger; we have to get him away from here.”  At that moment, the first cold, wet drops of rain began to fall.  Without wasting any time on questions, Legolas pulled Frodo into his arms and quickly carried him down the slope.  Aragorn followed slowly, his hand on Gimli’s shoulder for support.  He felt exhausted, drained of energy as no Ranger should be.  Why?

** TBC **

Amy:  You describe Aragorn’s little speech so well – “Rules for a Fellowship on a Dangerous Quest”.  Love it.

Andrea:  Gandalf talked about the Ring’s effect on Bilbo’s youthful appearance and long life at the Council of Elrond, but how intriguing to wonder how Bilbo took the news... and whether he ever gave it much thought.

Anso the Hobbit:  Oh, I hope you do get back to your own River story!  Frodo should never be left for long without comfort.

Armariel:  I do love filling in the Professor’s story “gaps”.  How lovely of him to leave them for us!

Baggins Babe:  I never thought about ‘jet lag’ as a way of describing the Lorien-outside world transition, but it definitely fits.

Breon Briarwood:  I just can’t imagine Frodo without his Sam.  Just can’t.  *roots through your popcorn bucket for the pieces without too much butter on them*

cpsings4him:  Hobbits never cease to amaze those around them -- “growth” while still remaining “hobbity” is definitely a theme of this story!

Cuthalion:  I enjoy exploring the unique characteristics of each of the hobbits.  Sam was especially challenging in this story, for some reason.  I’m so happy his “heartwarming” qualities are coming through.

Dreamflower:  I hope you continue to find this tale intriguing!

French Pony:  Thank you for your lovely words.  Most definitely, a continuing challenge for “Fellowship” stories is making sure no one is overlooked, and that they all come across as unique individuals.

GamgeeFest:  Thank you very much.  I’m happy you’re enjoying this already!

girlofring:  I’m enjoying re-visiting (and, to an extent, re-writing) this story.  Thank you very much for coming along on the journey.

Grey Wonderer:  The Ring’s effect on mortals is fascinating, isn’t it?  We never really go to see what Its effect would be on Elves, since an Elf never bore the One Ring.

harrowcat:   Eeee, being licked to death!  What a way to go.  *grins*  (This willl be a much smoother and more polished version of this story than the one archived elsewhere... as I slowly comb all the three-year-old tangles out of it.)

Larner:  Story titles are very difficult for me to come up with, but this one seems especially appropriate.  There will be more about the “dragon” in future chapters.

lbilover:  I thought a lot about how differently the way time passes in Lothlorien, especially for the story “Sing Me Home”.  Professor Tolkien certainly came up with some fascinating concepts.

lindahoyland:  Thank you so much, Linda.  There will be a lot of Aragorn-hobbit moments in this story.

Lindelea:  Yes, PippinHealing is on its way!  I wrote this story the same year as “Unlikely Comfort”, and combining Frodo- and Pippin-healing seems to have been my theme for 2002... and beyond...

Pearl Took:  I agree, Pearl – getting older (especially in such lovely company) is certainly more agreeable than the alternative (!), and we need to be as appreciative of our lives as we can, for as long as we can.

SlightlyTookish:  Thank you so much!  And I suspect you’re really going to enjoy the Pippin h/c to come.  :D

TheHobbitWaffle:  Thank you for coming along on this journey... again!

Tigger:  There’s something I find so fascinating about that hat of Gandalf’s.  Wherever did he get it, and why even wear it?  It’s such a comical garment.

WHISPERS OF THE DRAGON

Chapter 3 --- Light and Shadow

When Sam saw Legolas returning with Frodo in his arms, he broke away from Boromir and raced to meet them.  Sam led the Elf to a blanket spread out under a large tree.  Legolas put Frodo down and sat next to him, giving him more water and speaking in a soft, soothing voice.  Sam pulled over a waterproof cover, and pulled it around the three of them to keep off the raindrops dripping down through the branches that sheltered them.  Aragorn sank down a few feet away, and Pippin and Merry huddled next to him under covers of their own.  The rest of the company did the same nearby.

Frodo had stopped coughing, but he leaned against Sam feeling weak and confused.  Sam’s hand, holding his, felt so wonderfully solid, so real.  It helped him to focus.  Frodo looked into his friend’s concerned eyes.

“I’m all right,” he whispered.

Merry looked worriedly at his cousin, then up at Aragorn’s soot-streaked face.

“What happened up there, Strider?  We heard a frightful noise and saw smoke.  Was there a fire?  How did it start?”

Before Aragorn could answer Merry’s questions, Pippin noticed that the Ranger was rubbing his eyes, which were irritated from the smoke and heat.

“Strider, may I get something out of your pack?” Pippin asked.

Aragorn immediately thought of a dozen reasons why this was a bad idea, but the question was so unexpected, he found himself nodding.  Pippin raced over to the pile of packs, unlacing Aragorn’s and pulling out a length of cloth.  He grabbed a full water bottle, and was back underneath the cover before he got too wet.  Pippin folded the cloth a few times, poured some fresh water over it, and held it up to the Ranger.

“Here.  Hold this over your eyes, it’ll make them feel better.”

“Thank you, Pippin.” Aragorn smiled at him, pressing the cold, wet cloth to his eyes with relief.  “That does feel better.  Legolas, how is Frodo?” he asked.

“He is recovering,” the Elf responded.  “By the looks of the two of you, I sense you were fighting more than fire and smoke up there.”

Without warning, the rain suddenly stopped.

Boromir frowned.  “That was a very strange storm.  At least the rain has no doubt extinguished the fire.”

“You have no idea how strange that storm was, Boromir,” said Aragorn.  “Frodo, can you tell us what happened to you?”

“I saw Gandalf,” said Frodo with a sigh.  His throat hurt, and his voice was barely above a whisper.  Everyone strained to hear him.  “Everything else disappeared.  Aragorn says he was calling me, but I didn’t hear him.  I didn’t hear anything.  The next thing I knew I was on the ground, and Aragorn was shaking me.  Gandalf was gone.  Then lightning set the meadow on fire.  It was terrifying.”  Frodo paused to drink more water.  “Aragorn knew we had to get out of there, so he picked me up and ran.  That’s when I felt... it was like...”  He tried hard to describe what he had experienced.  “It was like something was calling me back, to run back through the fire.  Someone wanted the Ring, wanted me to bring it to them.  It was so strong I could hardly bear it.”

“There was something strong at work there,” agreed Aragorn.  “Every step I took was like stumbling through thick mud, fighting against some obstacle.  I wasn’t sure we would get out of that smoke.”

“It seemed like hours.” Frodo continued.  “I fought so hard, got so tired...  Then I heard... I thought I heard Sam’s voice.  Talking about the dragons.”  Sam looked at him, startled, as Frodo squeezed his hand tighter.  “Sam was telling me not to listen to dragons.  Something... something happened, then.  It was like waking from a nightmare.”  He looked at Aragorn gratefully.  “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come after me.  I’m not even sure, now, what did happen.”  He leaned his head against Sam’s shoulder, suddenly feeling very drowsy.

“I have a guess,” said Aragorn quietly.  “It’s odd, though... Boromir, how far are we from Isengard?”

Boromir started to answer, then grinned.  “Ask Merry,” he said.

“What?  Why?”  Aragorn looked at Boromir, then at Merry, who was groaning with embarrassment.  “Merry?”

“Boromir,” Merry sighed.  “Very well.  It’s a long way, Strider.  Maybe 300 miles...”  he pointed precisely southwest.  “That way.  Past the Entwash, and...”  He stopped, confused by the amazed faces around him.  “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Aragorn said with a smile.  He looked down at Pippin, who was pouring more cold water on the cloth.  “Hobbits just never cease to amaze, that’s all.”

“Aragorn,” said Gimli with a frown, “Are you saying that Saruman is behind this?”

“It seems the most likely explanation,” said the Ranger.  “Phantom wizards and freak storms -- like that blizzard at the Redhorn Pass -- it’s almost as if someone was trying to ensnare Frodo in some type of spell.  He didn’t feel an urge to put on the Ring, but to bring it to someone.  None of us know what Saruman looks like... but we have heard enough to know what he is like.  And he wants the Ring.  Wizard or no, he has just had his first lesson in the resilience and determination of hobbits.”  He eyed Frodo, who was barely staying awake.  “Frodo, you may be so weary because you fought with all your strength something unseen -- that was attempting to ensnare you.”

“It was like a fight,” Frodo agreed, “but I had a a little help.”

“Yes, you did,” Aragorn smiled, looking at Sam.  “You and Sam together are a formidable pair -- the likes of which Saruman had not taken into account.”

Sam blushed, but Frodo nodded thoughtfully.

Aragorn got to his feet, feeling rested.  “Sam, try to keep Frodo awake, I want to check his throat for any swelling from all that smoke he swallowed.  Gimli, can you find some dry wood for a fire?  I’d like to prepare something to soothe his throat, and we need to dry out.  If that fire on the meadow didn’t draw any unwelcome attention, a small one down here certainly won’t make things any worse.  We’ll put it out before it gets fully dark.”

“I’ll go with you!”  Pippin leaped up and followed after Gimli.

Boromir sighed.  “That youngster has so much energy, he makes me dizzy.”

“It’s hard for him to sit still all day in the boat,” Merry said.  He grinned.  “He’s never endured a worse torture!”  He got up to dig out some food.

“I hope he never has to,” Boromir whispered to himself.

That evening, Boromir lay sleepless long after the camp was quiet, unable to get Merry’s offhand jest about torture out of his mind.  He realized how fond he had become of these little ones, how unthinkable it was that anything should...  Surely there were better ways to protect them than this hopeless journey to destroy the one thing that could...

Frodo lay nearby in an exhausted sleep, nearly buried in a pile of hobbits.  All three had decided that if anything came after Frodo in the night it would have to go through all of them. 

It seemed to Boromir that there was very little in Middle-earth not stalking their tiny Ringbearer -- even the weather itself.  Frodo should not have to bear this alone - such a fragile, innocent creature.  Sauron was after the Ring.  Saruman as well.  That creature Gollum.  They mustn’t get it.  Why was everyone so afraid to wield it?

Boromir had seen the look Frodo gave Aragorn, a look of gratitude, and deep respect.  If Aragorn chose not to come to Minas Tirith, Boromir now knew beyond doubt that Frodo would not come either.  He and the rest would follow Aragorn into Mordor, to almost certain capture, or death in the fiery chasms of Mount Doom.  And now Frodo would be more closely watched by everyone than before.

Yet I need to speak to him alone, somehow.  Surely he must grow weary of this burden.  Surely I can make him understand that there are other paths open to him other than taking the Ring to the Fire.  It is he who puts the others in danger.  How can I protect them when he makes such a choice?

*~*~*~*~*

The next morning Pippin awoke and looked around, a bit confused.  It seemed a lot later than when someone usually woke him, and no one seemed to be making any preparations to leave.  Frodo and Merry were still asleep, and the others were sitting around a small fire, talking quietly.  Aragorn noticed him and came over.

“It’s all right, Pippin,” he whispered.  “You can sleep late if you wish.”

“Why?”

“We’re going to travel at night for awhile, and make ourselves a little less visible.  It may be safer thus.  The more rest everyone gets today the better.”  Aragorn smiled.  “When your cousins are hungry enough, they’ll wake up!”

“Sounds kind of dangerous, Strider,” Pippin said with a yawn.  “We’ll be really really hungry by then.”

He was asleep again within minutes.

** TBC **

Amy:  The “danger quotient” is definitely rising... and not just for Frodo...

Andrea:  Yes, if only it really had been Gandalf!  Poor Frodo didn’t know his dear wizard friend was alive and well.

Anso the Hobbit:  Ah, never underestimate the ingenuity of a desperate wizard.

Armariel:  Yay for Fellowship stories!  I can’t get enough of them, either.

Breon Briarwood:  Ah, that wily wizard is no match for our Fellowship.

Cuthalion:  Thank you!  Yes indeed, Mr. Curunir is everywhere, isn’t he?

Dreamflower:  Saruman is definitely on the prowl.  With so many plans and armies, it’s amazing he never got hold of any hobbits!  All his chances slipped through his fingers.

dwarftacular:  I’m so happy you find the story excitiing – there’s much more to come!

Elwen:  Hee hee.  I think I can manage to sneak in a bit more angst...

French Pony:  You’ve caught my idea exactly.  So much *could” have happened during those ten days on the River -- events both natural and supernatural.  There will be more of that to explore in future chapters.  And you guessed correctly that the fire would diminish once it wasn’t “needed” anymore.

Garnet Took:  I hope this chapter explains a lot of what happened in Chapter 2!  *waves to Connie*

Gayalondiel:  Thank you for reading this again!  I’m doing a lot of revising and smoothing to the original story.

girlofring:  Boromir agrees with you; everyone and everything are after Frodo.

harrowcat:  I hope you enjoy all the Pippin-Merry conversations yet to come in this story; I had fun writing them.

Lady Jaina:  Thank you so much!

Larner:  I really like what you said: “Confusion and desire are the dragon’s weapons”.  Indeed they are, in Middle-earth and elsewhere.

Lindelea:  I should have consulted with you about lightning strikes!  Wow, you were so close to one?

lindahoyland:  I do love “sweet moments” among the Fellowship!  This story will even include several hobbit-Dwarf conversations, which are somewhat rare.  (And of course, many more Aragorn-hobbit scenes.)

Pearl Took:  Yes, Aragorn is only “human”, isn’t he?  Why shouldn’t he get tired or frustrated once in awhile?  Thank you so much for re-reading, Pearl.

Sila Lumenn:  Thank you for coming along on this ride for a second time!  I’m having a good time polishing it.

SlightlyTookish:  Of course Frodo needed comfort.  Why else would I put him in danger?  *grins*

TheHobbitWaffle:  I really enjoy writing “responsible, thoughtful” Merry.  I’ve tried to do that in a lot of my stories.

WHISPERS OF THE DRAGON

Chapter 4 --- Speculations

Later that day, when the sun was as warm as it was going to get, the hobbits took the opportunity to bathe as best they could at the River’s edge -- despite the icy water.  Frodo, especially, needed to scrub off all the soot and grime from the day before, as he had fallen asleep so quickly the previous night.  Legolas and Aragorn returned to the meadow to see what damage the fire had caused, and to try to locate evidence of anyone else who might have been up there.  When they returned, several hours later, Aragorn spotted Frodo sitting under a tree.

“Do you wish to be alone, Frodo?”

Frodo smiled up at him.  “I doubt you’ll ever let me be alone again, after yesterday.  Here, sit down.”  The Ranger sat beside him, noting the waterskin lying in the grass.

“I’m glad you’re drinking a lot of water.  Your voice sounds better; how does your throat feel?”

“Much better.  Yesterday seems like a dream, somehow.  It was so strange...”  Frodo frowned in thought.  “Why do you think the lightning hit the grass, and not us?”

“I was wondering about that, as well.  With our swords and your mithril, we certainly were a target.  That was one of the reasons I didn’t think it was an ordinary storm.  I don’t suppose we’ll ever really know the answer.”

“Did you and Legolas find anything?”

“No.  No footprints... or anything else.  There was no sign that anyone had been out there for quite some time -- physically, anyway.  Of course, the rain could have washed away any signs.”

“I doubt anyone was there -- physically, anyway,” said Frodo with a sigh.  “It’s quite wearying, always being a target.  And that means all of you are targets, as well...”  His voice trailed off.

“It is not you who put anyone in danger,” Aragorn reminded him.  “It is the Ring, and those who would use it to enslave and destroy.  You’re not responsible for us, Frodo.  We’re here of our own free will.”

“I know.  Yet it gets more and more difficult, knowing all of you are in peril just being near me.  I fear something may happen.  Are you ever afraid, Aragorn?  You don’t seem to be.”

Aragorn looked out over the water.  “Of course I am -- when I’m not sure that what I can give all of you is enough.  Like yesterday.  It’s difficult to fight shadows.”  He looked down at the hobbit.  “It eases me to realize that you don’t always have to rely on a sword or a bow for defense, but that there are other powers, other strengths.  I meant what I said about you and Sam; something surely binds you two, I’ve never seen anything like it.  Gandalf knew it; such foresight he had.  I wish you really had seen him yesterday, Frodo.  It would be so wonderful to see him again, to talk with him.”

“It certainly would.  But Aragorn,”  Frodo rose, now eye to eye with the seated Ranger.  “I’d have been dead long ago if not for you, and the Ring in the hands of the Enemy.  Perhaps you’re better at fighting shadows than you think.”

“Perhaps.”  Aragorn saw Frodo try to stifle a yawn.  “Do you think you can sleep a bit more?  We will be setting watches during the day, from now on, and proceeding at night as quietly as we can.”  He laughed softly.  “It will be difficult for Merry to travel at night, I suspect.  In the dark, he won’t be able to pinpoint our location every second!”

“He is amazing, isn’t he?” Frodo smiled.  “Such a head for plans and strategies and maps.  His family is very proud of him; he’s to be Master of Buckland someday, you know.”  He was struck with a sudden thought.  “Odd how we all seem to be heir to something.  Merry, Pippin, Legolas, Boromir, you... me... I wonder if Gimli...”

“Not Sam, I suppose,” said Aragorn quietly.

“No, not Sam,” Frodo sighed.  “But he’ll never want for anything, so long as I draw breath.  He deserves so much, he’s so much more than he believes himself to be.  What he’s done for me...”  He fixed the Ranger with an intense look.  “When we’ve finished this, Aragorn, and you’re king, you must see to it that Samwise Gamgee’s name is known and honored throughout the lands.   I very much want to see that happen.  Promise me.”

When we’ve finished this, and you’re king.  Aragorn caught his breath at the matter-of-fact statement.  Such a long road yet, such a long, dark road -- made brighter by this small person in front of him.  So much brighter.  He put his right hand to his breast, and nodded

“I will, Frodo.  You have my word.”  Aragorn tried to lighten the mood.  “And you must tell me what Pippin is due to inherit.  Not all of Tookland, is it?  I’ll try to be more respectful around him!”  They laughed together, but Frodo was not quite finished.

“Aragorn,” he said softly, “thank you for taking such good care of me.  Sam tends me as he would one of his beloved gardens, needing water and food, rest and care.  As you do.  Thank you.”

Frodo turned and walked over to his bedroll, leaving Aragorn sitting on the grass... sitting motionless and thoughtful, for quite a long time.

*~*~*~*~*~*

As the sun began to set and the air cooled, Legolas -- keeping watch with Gimli over the sleeping camp -- could finally stand it no longer.

"Dwarves are capable of the most peculiar sounds. What are you thinking and muttering about, Gimli?"

"Wizards."

"What about them?"

"How do we know it is only Saruman whom we must fear? What of the rest of the Istari, as you call them? Do they seek the Ring, as well? If not, why do they not assist the Ringbearer in Gandalf's stead?"

Legolas stared at him.  "Worthy questions, my friend, but I fear they are quite beyond my ability to answer. I suspect that if any of the Istari could assist us, they would have been called to the Council. We may meet them yet, although in what guise I cannot say."

Frodo sat up suddenly, gasping for breath. Hearing only the familiar sound of sleeping friends breathing quietly around and near him, he relaxed. Only a dream, then, he thought with relief.

"Frodo, are you well?" Legolas had walked quickly over to him, followed by Gimli.

Frodo looked up at them, still breathing heavily. "A bad dream, that's all," he whispered.

Legolas nodded and turned to go, but something in Frodo's look stopped him. He returned to the hobbit's side and knelt down. "Do you wish to talk?"

Frodo rarely shared any doubts or fears, and the Elf was somewhat surprised when Frodo nodded, and slowly rose, walking toward the boats. The Elf and Dwarf followed, and the three companions sat together on the wooden seats.

"I don't suppose Elves have bad dreams, do they?" Frodo began hesitantly.

Legolas chuckled quietly. "Elves dwell in two worlds, Frodo. Perhaps they are both real, perhaps both a dream.  Memories – good and evil – walk with us always.  However, ‘nightmares’ such as mortals experience do not come to us." He waited.

“Tell us, lad,” Gimli urged.

"There was fire," Frodo whispered. "So hot. Not like Moria, it was...different. We were all there, yet I was alone. It was time, I had to destroy the Ring. It was time. We had made it to the Fire." He was breathing hard, remembering. "I, I couldn't do it. I couldn't destroy it. I wanted to, I didn't want to, I.." He took a deep breath and looked at the Dwarf.  "You grabbed me, and held me down. I was screaming, fighting. Someone took the Ring from me and threw it in. Then there was just.. everyone looking at me with such disappointment, such anger. I felt only shame and grief and emptiness. I had failed." Tears were streaming down Frodo's face. "I failed everyone," he whispered, burying his face in his hands.

"Frodo," said Legolas softly, "Do you recall what you pledged to do, at the Council?"

"I, I said-----"

"You said you would take the Ring,” Gimli reminded him.  “Perhaps when we get to the Fire, Frodo, it will not be your task to destroy it. Only to take it there."

Frodo said nothing, but his companions knew he was listening.

"It was just a dream; perhaps another of Samwise's dragons trying to deceive you." Legolas smiled. "We have traveled with you a long way, my friend. There is not a person here who does not honor what you are doing and marvel at your strength. If you turned back this moment, Frodo, we would not be ashamed of you or hold you in lesser esteem. We could never be disappointed in you."

"Thank you.”  Frodo wiped his eyes. "Don't tell Sam. About the nightmare, I mean. He worries enough about me, as it is."

We will not,” Legolas assured him.  “However, Samwise knows and senses more than you may think. You do not wish to weigh him down with added worry or care, but I suspect he would not be burdened by such things. To lend you strength brings him great joy and purpose. I do not believe you truly know the gifts that surround you." He grasped Frodo's chin and gently brought the hobbit's eyes up to meet his. "Do not let the shadow blind you to Light, Frodo. It is all around you. It is within you. I think it will be enough to help you when you most need it."

Gimli patted Frodo on the shoulder. "Why don’t you wake the others, and have some food; we will leave as soon as it is dark."

"I will.  And... thank you both."

Legolas and Gimli watched Frodo walk slowly back to the small campfire.

“Frodo has proved himself to be much more than ordinary,” Legolas said quietly.  “I wonder if this ‘nightmare’ had something of a future portent about it.”  He sighed.  “Mithrandir would have known for certain.”

“Ring-bearer,” Gimli said, “but perhaps not Ring-destroyer.”

“I wonder,” Legolas murmured.  Was this, then, the true purpose of the Fellowship?  He knew Gimli was sharing his thought: Will this task fall to one of us?

** TBC **

Anso the Hobbit:  Merry’s intelligence and perceptions will definitely come into play in this story – many times.

aprilkat:  I actually hadn’t thought about Chapter 3 as showing the strengths of each hobbit; thank you for pointing that out to me!  And yes, “Ringspell” is not unlike “dragon spell” – twisting one’s own impulses and thoughts for its own purposes -- which is exactly what the title of this story is all about.

Armariel:  Your review-pictures are so very exquisite!  What a lovely gift.

Andrea:  Poor Boromir, indeed.  He was well prepared for a physical attack, but not an internal one.

Breon Briarwood:  A definite theme of this story is how Boromir’s thoughts bring him to his actions at Amon Hen.  I hope the slow progression I show will seem logical.

cpsings4him:  “It’s so devious because it mixes in a tiny bit of truth with the lies it tells...”  That is indeed a wonderful description of the “dragon” of this story.  And what a joy it’s been to find other folks whose hearts go out to Frodo.  He needs all the love he can get.

Dreamflower:  Oh yes, Merry and Pippin are definitely getting ready to prove themselves!  Their growth and perceptions will be explored further as the story goes on.

French Pony:  I like your phrase “Ring-heightened worry” on the part of Boromir.  That’s a marvelous way to describe what I’m trying to bring out in this story.

GamgeeFest:  I love it when the Big Folk go into “protective mode” around the hobbits – whether the hobbits need protecting or not!

Garnet Took:  Thank you.  I’m trying to show deeper aspects of Merry and Pippin, in particular, although all the Fellowship members will have their chance to shine in this story.  There will be much more to come!  And poor Boromir will indeed come to realize that he’s being manipulated -- but by then, will he be able to do anything about it?

Gayalondiel:  I’m glad you like characters “chatting and thinking”, as there will be a lot of that in this story!

girlofring:  Thank you very much.  Combining book, film, and our own imagination is always a challenge.

harrowcat:  Pippin is definitely a ‘typical tween’ – always willing to sleep late in the morning!

Larner:  The Enemy (in all its guises) is definitely growing more restive.  The Fellowship is certainly in a very vulnerable position.

Linda Hoyland:  I thought a lot about Boromir during the writing of this story, and learned a lot about him.  And yes, Pippin is “showing his quality”!  There will be more of that to come.

Pearl Took:  Poor Boromir, indeed!  *sigh*  And I really enjoyed writing Merry-Strider and Pippin-Strider scenes into this story.

pebbles66:  Thank you, pebbles!  I’m very happy you’re enjoying the story.

SlightlyTookish:  They may be a story behind Pippin knowing exactly what was in Aragorn’s pack – why don’t you write it sometime?  :D

Tigger:  Thank you.  Yes, that long trip down the River was a sore trial for Boromir.

WHISPERS OF THE DRAGON

Chapter 5--- No Safety

"Boromir, are you listening to me?"

Boromir was brought back to the present with a jolt. The fifth night of their journey found their boat drifting some distance behind Aragorn's, sliding down the Anduin under a thin crescent moon and brilliant stars. Merry was seated next to him, paddling a bit, while Pippin lay half asleep among the packs and baggage behind them.

"Forgive me, Merry. What were you saying?"

Merry spoke just above a whisper, as they had all grown used to doing. "You've been so still, with such an odd look on your face. You've done nothing but stare at... Boromir, are you staring at Frodo? Are you angry with him about something?"

"Angry?  No."  Boromir flushed and thought quickly. "I'm just still learning about hobbits, you know. Frodo has always seemed different, quite unlike the rest of you. He even looks quite unlike the rest of you."  He was unprepared for the response.

"I know," Merry sighed solemnly. "It's a problem."

"A problem? Is Frodo considered ill-favored among the Shirefolk? It is difficult to believe."

"No, of course he isn’t. Still..." Merry sighed again. Boromir was completely confused, but relieved the subject had been changed so quickly.

"Frodo's felt different all his life, you know," Merry continued. "Just being an orphan would have been enough. Then he was a Baggins among Brandybucks, then a Brandybuck among Bagginses... Bilbo saw to it that he was the best educated, best dressed, best everything. He stood out; lots of folks were jealous and mean. And of course he grew up to look like, well, that. Different, different, different. And all he ever wanted was to be a part of things just like anyone else."

"Then he got the Ring," piped up Pippin, who had been listening. "And now everything's hunting him and chasing him, it's like he's all lit up in the dark. More different than ever. Poor Frodo."

Both hobbits fell silent for a moment, contemplating the cruel destiny that had been their gentle cousin's life.

"I was 11 when it started... remember, Merry? At the Party? I felt so grown up being allowed to stay up that late.."

Boromir stopped listening long before Pippin tired of recounting some extravagant party Bilbo had apparently thrown for himself.

"Here, Merry, I'll paddle for a bit," Boromir said softly, bringing their boat closer to Aragorn's and sinking back into his thoughts.

*~*~*~*~*

"I know what I heard, Mr. Frodo. And I know what I saw."

"I believe you, Sam." Frodo and Sam lay together in the rear of their boat, gazing back past the other boats, looking and listening.

"What's so fascinating back there, Frodo?"

Frodo got up carefully and sat next to Aragorn.

"We're being followed. Gollum."

"Ah yes," the Ranger said. "He's been on our trail since we left Lórien. I had hoped that with swift paddling and this icy water we could outdistance him, but apparently not. Did Sam hear him?"

"Yes," said Frodo. "And I've seen him -- several times, always at night."

Aragorn looked at him. "Frodo, I tracked that creature for months and know how difficult he is to see. Has he come that close to you?"

"No, not close." Frodo sighed. "But he doesn’t have to.  Ever since the Morgul wounding I've been able to see quite well in the dark. I don't know why." He grew thoughtful. "The Ring doesn't want to be found by him again, but he's drawn to it. The Black Riders could smell it, I think, and Gollum just... just knows where it is."

"And you?" Aragorn asked quietly.

Frodo glanced at Sam, who was watching him. "Except for a few moments here and there, it's not been out of my possession for 17 years. If it was, was taken..." Frodo could hardly bear the thought. "Yes, I would know where it is. I would pursue it, as well."

"Don't worry, Mr. Frodo," Sam said encouragingly. "No one's getting at that thing until you're good and ready to get rid of it. That's what we're all here for, after all."

*~*~*~*~*

The hours passed slowly as dawn approached, and Pippin found it nearly impossible to sit still. He traded places with Merry and sat next to Boromir, casting about for some topic of conversation.

"Boromir, doesn't anyone use this river? There are no bridges, no boats, no people... where is everybody?"

Boromir put his arm around him. "You have seen battle, little one, but you have not yet seen war. The South is at war, Pippin. The eastern shore is either uninhabitable or held by the Enemy, and it has grown unsafe to dwell or farm too near the western shoreline. Perhaps someday the Anduin will be safe once again for bridges, boats, and people. Not yet. Not yet."

"Not until the Ring is destroyed; I understand. We just have to get Frodo to that mountain."

Get Frodo to that Mountain.  As simple as that.  Boromir shook his head.  These innocents cannot imagine what lies ahead.  He was about to speak when Aragorn began to paddle strongly toward the shore, to a small inlet beneath looming cliffs.

"Wake up, Merry," Pippin whispered. "It's time to make camp and get some sleep."

*~*~*~*~*

Later that day, Frodo and Boromir took watch together, sitting on a large, flat rock where they could keep one eye on the towering cliffs ringing their campsite and one eye on the eastern shore.

"It's good to see Aragorn get some sleep," Frodo said quietly. "I don't know how he does it."

"Aye, he reminds me of my brother in that. He can also go long days and nights without sleep or rest." Boromir motioned toward Pippin, walking around a short distance away, inspecting interesting rocks on the pebbly beach. "Even young Pippin has learned to need less sleep!"

"Boromir, it is good of you to keep an eye on Pippin and Merry, but you must tell us if you grow weary of it! We do not always need to keep to the same boats."

"I have grown quite fond of them, Frodo. It is anything but wearying to be around them." Boromir’s smile faded. "They love you very much. They are worried about you."

"I know," Frodo said. "I am worried about them, as well. I have been thinking. If I choose..." he motioned to the eastern shore. “...perhaps you and Aragorn should take them with you to Minas Tirith when you leave us."

Boromir chuckled. "Frodo, I doubt very much Aragorn will leave you, whichever path you choose."

Frodo turned to face him, frowning. "At the Council he pledged to accompany you to Minas Tirith. I have just assumed... do you say he might not go?"

"I do not know his thoughts, but the leadership of this Company must weigh heavily upon him since Gandalf's fall. If you choose to attempt Mordor from the north, I believe Aragorn will accompany you. But it would be more practical to come first to my city, Frodo. For news, for counsel, for supplies..." Boromir paused. "I cannot imagine that Elvish bread alone will keep anyone alive for long in the wasteland that lies to the east."

Frodo was about to answer when a sudden flight of birds from the cliffs directly above startled him. Spies of the Enemy? Something up there? Or nothing more than it seemed... He sighed.

"I no longer know what to think, what to trust. Everything you say sounds reasonable, Boromir, it's just... Boromir!"

He and Boromir both saw it at the same time -- a boulder had somehow become dislodged from high above, and was tumbling and bouncing down the cliff-face directly at them. Boromir yelled out to the others as he grabbed Frodo and ran the few yards to the bottom of the cliff, pressing them both against the rock face and shielding the hobbit with his body. Frodo heard a tremendous crash, and felt everything shake. Small rocks spattered the cliff wall around them. Then silence.

Boromir knelt, and turned an ashen-faced Frodo to face him. "Are you all right?"

Frodo nodded, stunned. "Are you?" He flung him arms around the Man. "Thank you," he gasped. "What about--" He looked over Boromir's shoulder and caught his breath, his eyes taking in the scene in an instant. The boulder had smashed down directly where he and Boromir had been sitting, sending large and small missiles of rock flying through the campsite. Fortunately, almost everyone had already been lying down, if not asleep. What remained of the boulder lay some distance away, and the flat rock-seat was cracked and splintered. Gimli had risen to his feet and was staring grimly upward.  Aragorn was running... Sam and Merry were running... running to...

Boromir let go of Frodo and raced toward the small crumpled figure lying motionless near the boats.

"No," Frodo whispered, stumbling forward. No.

Frodo dropped to his knees beside Sam, staring in disbelief at Pippin lying unconscious on the ground. Broken bits of rock were scattered everywhere.

Merry held Pippin's hand as Aragorn gently examined a swelling on his left temple. To Aragorn's relief, his probing fingers elicited a faint groan from Pippin.

"That's a good sign, Merry. Boromir, would you get my pack?"

The Ranger lifted Pippin carefully and carried him over to the young hobbit's bedroll. Sam started to rise when he realized that Frodo, kneeling beside him, was pale and shaking.

"Mr. Frodo! Are you hurt?"

Frodo turned tear-filled eyes to Sam and shook his head.

Sam put his arms around his friend. "I know you’re upset, sir. We’ve seen you bad hurt, more than once. But you've not seen much happen to one of us. It's a shock, I know. But he'll be all right, Strider will heal him right up. You know Mr. Pippin, by suppertime he'll be..."

Frodo buried his face in Sam's shoulder, scarcely hearing the soothing words. What if Pippin had been killed? First Gandalf... what if someone else...? Because of him. They were all in danger because of him.

** TBC **

Amy:  I believe that Frodo did know (or suspect), after all he heard at the Council, that Aragorn would become King if the Quest succeeded.

Anso the Hobbit:  I agree, Aragorn kept his fears to himself -- although in the book, he voiced a fear that he was making incorrect decisions for the Fellowship.  It’s nice, in fanfiction, to give him (and all of them) someone with whom to talk and share feelings.

Armariel:  It’s been interesting learning to write Elves and Dwarves in a believable way; I’m so glad you like ‘my’ Legolas!

aprilkat:  To me, Frodo certainly didn’t “fail”; he vowed to take the Ring to Mordor, and he did.  And because of his (and Bilbo’s and Sam’s) pity for Gollum, the Ring met its doom.

cpsings4him:  I don’t know whether or not Elves dream, but I thought it would be interesting to speculate that they don’t have “nightmares”.  I suspect that eons of memories crowding in on them are oppressive enough.

Cuthalion:  Thank you so much.  I do believe that the Ring found whatever way It could to steer otherwise good and decent people toward darker thoughts.

Dreamflower:  It’s wonderful when we can deepen the friendships between characters; it’s certainly one of the great joys of writing fanfiction.

dwarftacular:  Thank you!  I enjoyed figuring out how to write Gimli for this story.

French Pony:  There really did turn out to be a huge difference between Ring-bearer and Ring-destroyer.  Hopefully Frodo was able to find peace with the fact that “destroyer” wasn’t his part to play.

Garnet Took:  I love the image of Aragorn comprehending that Gandalf’s “fool of a Took” is in line to be Thain and steward of the Shire.  It was fun introducing Boromir to that concept in “Avalanche”.

girlofring:  You may very well have read this story before!  I never said I hadn’t posted it – only that I hadn’t posted it to this archive (Stories of Arda).  A non-beta’d version has been on fanfiction.net since 2002.

Grey Wonderer:  Frodo did have rather intense and ‘clairvoyant’ dreams all through the Quest; I find it interesting that the Professor gave him that gift and ability, and have tried to explore this in several stories.

harrowcat:  It’s nice to think that Frodo might have been considering Sam’s future so early in the Quest.

Larner:  Frodo had such an unimaginable burden throughout the Quest, on every level.  It’s a challenge to try to expose even one layer of it.

Linda Hoyland:  That’s why I never thought Frodo “failed” in his mission – he only vowed to ‘take’ the Ring to Mordor.  Whatever happened after that was up to Destiny, I think.

Lindelea:  Thank you for such long and thoughtful reviews.  I think the Professor’s world is just an infinite playground, and we’re all so fortunate to have found one another to share our love for it.  And speaking of fortunate... Wow, that lightning story is frightening!  You and your brother were very lucky.

lovethosehobbits:  Thank you so much for comparing this to “Avalanche”!  I actually started writing “Avalanche” less than two months after finishing “Whispers”, and I know this story taught me a lot.

Pearl Took:  Poor Frodo really did come across in the books as rather pessimistic (or perhaps fatalistic) about his future.

SlightlyTookish:  It’s a challenge writing “Gimli scenes”; there are more to come!

WHISPERS OF THE DRAGON

Chapter 6 --- Son of Gondor

Aragorn cleaned the bruise, and to keep Merry occupied with more than fretting, gave him the task of keeping a compress wrung out in icy river water held gently to Pippin's temple. He then checked the young hobbit as thoroughly as he could for any other injuries, and was relieved that there didn't seem to be any. He sat back on his heels.

"This could have been a lot worse, Merry; he might wake with nothing more troublesome than a bad headache. We have to keep him lying still, if such a thing is possible." Aragorn smiled. "I don't suppose your cousin is old enough to have ever had a hangover?"

"Actually, he has," Merry said, wetting the cloth again. "Pip's always had a taste for ale, and last spring at the Ivy Bush there was this contest--"

"I see,” Aragorn smiled.  “Well, his head may feel just like that. Keep that compress on him, and keep it cold. Sam, it might be a good idea to bring over one of your basins; Pippin may feel a bit sick when he wakes up. Frodo, could you rig something to keep the sun out of his eyes?"

Aragorn covered Pippin with a blanket and knew there was nothing left to do but wait.

"Was anyone else hurt? Frodo, did you or Boromir see what happened?"

Frodo folded several of the boat covers and propped them up over Pippin in a tent-like shape to keep out the sun. Keeping busy was helping him to feel calmer.

"We saw a flock of birds take off from the cliff up there, like they were startled by something," he said. "A few seconds later, that big boulder came bouncing down from the top. Boromir... Boromir saved both our lives. I've never seen anyone move so fast."

Boromir looked a bit embarrassed by the praise, and changed the subject.

"Unless we climb up there, Aragorn, I doubt we'll ever know if this was an an accident or deliberately caused. I think it must have been an accident; who could have known we would be here? Gimli, have you seen anything moving up there?"

"Nothing, Boromir,” the Dwarf replied. “If there were more rocks to throw down, or even arrows, I assume someone would have done so by now. This beach is littered with stone from many past rockfalls, and this may have just been one more of them. Legolas, do you see anything?"

Legolas, who had been scanning the eastern shore for any movement, holding his bow at ready, shook his head and came over.

"I do not see or hear anything unusual. It was most likely an unfortunate accident, although the landing place and timing of that boulder is certainly suspicious. But I agree with Boromir; we may never know for certain."

Aragorn shook his head. "Every time we stop, something seems to happen -- but traveling at night still seems the wisest course, especially now. Whatever headache Pippin will have won't get any better if he doesn't stay out of the sun for a few days. We will leave tonight as soon as I know it is safe for him, and we'll have to take turns sleeping on the boats while the others paddle and keep watch. It may not be easy to relax here, but we still need to get what rest we can before we leave again."

Frodo noticed that the Ranger looked a bit discouraged, or perhaps it was simply weariness. He caught Sam's eye.

"Aragorn," Frodo said, "take some rest. We'll let you know when Pip wakes."

The Ranger started to refuse, but Sam and Frodo took his hands and pulled him over to his bedroll. Amused, Aragorn sat down.

"Let me know as soon as--"

"We will," Frodo and Sam spoke as one.

*~*~*~*~*

Aragorn had slept for about an hour when Sam's soft voice woke him.

"Strider, Pip's waking up."

Aragorn walked over to the makeshift tent and sat down beside Merry and Frodo, who were watching their young cousin closely. Boromir had made a small fire, and was sitting nearby. Pippin hadn't opened his eyes, but had raised his right hand up to his head with a wince.

"Pippin, lie still." Aragorn took Pippin's left hand from Merry and held it. "Don't try to move or get up. Don't raise your head. Just lie still. Press my hand if you understand me." He felt a small squeeze. "Don't open your eyes until you're ready, Pippin. Can you move all your fingers and toes?"

"Yes," a faint whisper.

"Do you know where you are?"

"River..."

"That's right. I know your head hurts, but does anything else hurt? Do you feel pain anywhere?”

"Don't think so.  Mer..."

Merry placed his hand gently on Pippin's shoulder. "Right here, Pip," he said softly.

Pippin slowly opened his eyes and looked around. "What... oh," he whimpered, closing his eyes again. "Dizzy..."

"I know," Aragorn said soothingly. "Merry, lift that compress and let me see... yes, the swelling is already less. Pippin, you were hit by a piece of rock, but you'll be just fine. Do you feel sick to your stomach?"

"N..No. Just headache and... sleepy."

Aragorn rested his left hand on Pippin's brow, his touch feather light.

"You can sleep, Pippin. I'll make you some willow bark tea later for your headache."

"Oh Strider," Pippin murmured. "That stuff is awful. Try... something else..."

Aragorn felt the small hand in his slowly relax as Pippin fell back to sleep. He gently tousled the curly hair and smiled. "You scamp," he said softly. "That rock didn't stand a chance against you."

*~*~*~*~*

Frodo noticed Boromir flexing and rubbing his shoulder, and sat by him.

"You were hurt, weren't you? Why didn't you say something?"

"It is a small thing, just a bruise,” Boromir assured him.  “Pippin is the one who needs the attention and care."

Frodo's eyes drifted back to Pippin. "I can't stop thinking about what might have happened, that he might have been... I can't bear to see him hurt."

"Nor I," said Boromir quietly. "Yet none of us is indestructible. Pippin chose to come with you and share whatever peril might come. We all did."

"I never thought..." Frodo's voice was scarcely above a whisper. "I never truly thought about Pippin and Merry... in Mordor."

"You know they will not leave you willingly. Bring them to the safety of Minas Tirith and decide from there what to do."

Frodo rose and rested his hand on the Man's sore shoulder, gently soothing the hurt.

Boromir smiled. “Thank you." He grew aware that Frodo's hand was shaking a little, and he reached back and drew the hobbit close to him. "It was a close call, Frodo, but do not dwell on what might have happened. It serves no purpose."

Frodo tore his eyes away from the flat stone, now broken, where he and Boromir had been sitting. His thoughts flew backwards --- to the Redhorn Pass... the wargs... Moria -- to everything Boromir had done for them. For him.

"I wish you would stay."

Boromir sighed. "Some days ahead are the lake of Nen Hithoel and the Falls of Rauros. I will perhaps go that far with you, but if you choose the eastern way..." He shook his head. "I have been gone half a year now, perhaps more. My duty calls me home. I would have liked to bring something more to my father than the answer to a rhyme and the rumor of a king, but if you will not return with me, that is all I will have."

"I have not decided what to do, Boromir."

"I know. But think on it, Frodo. The borders of the Black Land cannot be breached; not even with an army could you do so. There is no food, no water, little concealment. The land is watched and orcs are everywhere. The very air is poison. I do not know what Gandalf had planned for you, but the thought of hobbits in such a place chills my blood." Boromir’s gaze fell on the shattered remnants of the boulder... the shattered remnants of the tower of Ecthelion. Minas Tirith in ruins. The Shadow spreading, devouring... He closed his eyes, but it was still before him. Death. Ruin.

"Do not take the Ring back to Sauron, Frodo. All will be lost." His arm tightened convulsively around the hobbit and his voice sank to an anguished, almost inaudible whisper. "All will be lost!"

** TBC **

Amy:  Is it the Ring whispering to him that he’s endangering everyone?  I suspect it grew difficult to separate his own thoughts and desires from those of the Ring; but he held out longer than most would have.

aprilkat:  Yes, I’m sure Boromir always thought he was thinking rationally!  I like how you say the hobbits “anchored” him – for as long as they could, anyway.

Armariel:  It does hurt ussss when our precious hobbits are sick or injured, doesn’t it?  That’s why I hurry past the “hurt” and try to dive right into the “comfort”.

Baggins Babe:  I enjoy writing Boromir-Frodo conversations, particularly since they tend to be somewhat rare in fan fiction.

Cuthalion:  Writing this story brought me a much deeper understanding of Boromir.  That “dragon” truly whispered to him in ways he just couldn’t resist – and in a voice I’m certain he thought was his own.

demeter d:  “Strong, caring and protective” is my favorite way to read (or write) Boromir.  Writing this story, “Avalanche”, and "The Island" really taught me a lot about him.

Dreamflower:  Merry is quite the perceptive hobbit, and his insights about Frodo would be based on years of love and experience.

French Pony:  I’m so glad you like ‘my’ Boromir.  Seeing his companions (such as the hobbits) through his eyes really helps us to understand him much better.

Garnet Took:  I do seem to have written a lot of PippinHealing in 2002!  (I guess “Avalanche” and "Reunion at Cormallen" had the most Pippin h/c that year.)  Poor hobbits... but at least they get so much wonderful love and attention in our stories.

Gentle Hobbit:  Yes, Frodo hasn’t built up his coping skills yet for dealing with his companions being hurt or ill, has he?  But he’s a wonderfully caring ‘elder cousin’, and will do his best.

girlofring:  Thanks for reading it all again, my friend!

Grey Wonderer:  The Fellowship spent so much time together, it’s hard to imagine them not bonding.

Larner:  My goodness, thank you for complimenting my ‘details’.  Compared to many writers (yourself most definitely included), I feel I always fall short in the ‘details’ department, as I’m always more comfortable writing dialogue.

lbilover:  Thank you!  And you’ve hit on one of the very things that drew me to LOTR fan fiction; what happened in those hours or days that the Professor left up to our imaginations?  What a joy to have his universe to play in.

Linda Hoyland:  Oooh, “creeping menace”... I like that.  The Fellowship could never really relax and let down their guard.

Pearl Took:  Poor Boromir was so used to physical battles, he probably never even realized what was happening to him on a non-physical level.

Pipkin Sweetgrass:  Thank you for reading, Pipkin!  I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

SlightlyTookish:  Sorry the Pip-hurt took you by surprise!  But considering that it’s soft-hearted me writing this, you can be assured that the Pip-comfort will more than make up for any hurt.

Tigger:  I don’t think even Frodo ever believed Boromir was evil – the Ring had just been too much for him.  Awww, I like how you say that Merry and Pippin were “his” hobbits.  I’m sending you good thoughts and get-well hugs.  Thank you for reading, Tigger, and for your constant enthusiasm.

WHISPERS OF THE DRAGON

Chapter 8 --- Choices

Sam, acknowledged by all as the best at packing and arranging things, busied himself setting up a place in Boromir's boat for Pippin to lie down comfortably during the night as they traveled. He redistributed gear to the other boats and made sure Pippin would have enough blankets under and over him.

Pippin grumbled a bit when Aragorn not only wouldn't let him stand up yet, but also insisted that he lie down in the boat all night and try not to sit up unless absolutely necessary. He was still protesting when, just before the Company was due to leave, he realized his head was beginning to throb again. He closed his eyes, and after awhile thought he heard his name and felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Go 'way," he murmured.

Boromir's soft chuckle, strong arms lifting him... Pippin heard voices, someone's fingers at his wrist... more voices... movement... He was wondering if he could stand to swallow more of Strider's tea when sleep claimed him once more.

Boromir carried Pippin to their boat, and he and Merry settled him into the nest Sam had made for him. Aragorn noticed Merry's worried look.

"It's all right, Merry, he'll probably sleep on and off for a few days. Any head injury, even a small one, tends to have that effect. He really is recovering fast." Aragorn looked at everyone else. "Let's make as much distance as we can. Stay quiet, and stay alert."

Frodo came over to Boromir, concerned.

"Does your shoulder still ache?" he asked quietly, "I know you didn't tell anyone you were injured."

Boromir smiled at him. "You have a good heart, Frodo, but 'twas a small thing. It would take more than a bit of rock to fell a Man of Gondor!"

Frodo smiled at him and they went to their boats.

It was an uneventful night. They paddled for long stretches, gliding past a countryside increasingly barren to the east, high and rocky to the west. At dawn, the weary travelers glided into a tiny beach and took turns sleeping and keeping watch.

Aragorn and Merry shared the watch in the late afternoon of that seventh day, and as they sat together in one of the boats, Aragorn thought the time had come to discuss a difficult subject.

"Merry," he began, "you and Pippin have a decision to make soon."

"We do?"

Aragorn looked at him. "Very soon, Boromir will be returning home. You know that." Merry nodded. "Minas Tirith is a fortified city, as safe a place as now stands in Middle-earth. Frodo may decide that we should accompany Boromir and attempt Mordor from the west, or he may choose to cross the River without venturing near the city, and approach Mordor from the north. Regretfully, this decision must -- in the end -- be his alone. If Frodo chooses the eastern way, you and Pippin will have to decide whether to continue on with him -- a very difficult journey even before the border is reached -- or to go with Boromir to Minas Tirith."

Merry's mouth dropped open in astonishment.  As he started to speak, Aragorn stopped him.

"I know you never planned to leave Frodo; it probably never even occurred to you. I just wanted you to know that you have a choice. I wanted you to think about it." Aragorn smiled at the hobbit. "Go on, now. Wake Frodo and Sam for their watch and try to get some sleep."

Merry just sat for a few minutes, then got up and walked away.

Aragorn wondered what Legolas and Gimli had decided to do, but realized he already knew. Like him, in their hearts they were pledged to Frodo's side. Sam... he smiled to himself. That went without saying. He looked over at Merry, now sitting quietly next to Pippin under the improvised shade cover. As much as Merry wanted to keep Pippin safe, Aragorn didn't really think they would ever abandon Frodo. There was probably no decision to make.

With all his heart, Aragorn wanted Boromir to take these two with him, somehow keep them safe and protected. If something should happen to one or both of them in Mordor, he wasn't sure Frodo would be able to go on. On the other hand... he sighed. Who was he to say what Frodo Baggins could or could not endure? Or where Merry and Pippin's destinies were leading them? They were free to choose. They all were. But the hardest choice lay with Frodo, and it could not much longer be put off.

*~*~*~*~*

Merry knew he should be sleeping, but Pippin was trying to stay awake and there was no time like the present. His young cousin deserved to make his own decisions.

"Pip?"

"Mmmm?”

"Have you thought about what it will be like when Boromir leaves?”

"Of course I have."

Merry turned over and stared at his cousin. "You have?"

"I think about a lot of things.  What about it?"

"You know Frodo might not want to go with him."

"I know."

"We could go with him, you know. It would be safer and all."

"Leave Frodo?" Pippin sat up, even though he knew he wasn't supposed to. His look showed that he truly thought his cousin had lost his mind. Slowly, comprehension dawned.

"Are you scared something will happen to me in... in...?" He pointed across the River. Merry just looked at him and said nothing. "Silly," Pippin smiled and touched his still-tender bruise. "Something can happen anywhere."

Merry sighed. "You're growing up so fast, Pip, it's hard to keep up."

Pippin lay down again, a bit sorry he had sat up so fast. "I'm scared for you too, you know." He was quiet for a moment. "But I'm mostly scared for Frodo. Let's help him get rid of that awful Ring and go home. All right?"

"All right," Merry said softly, pressing his cousin's hand.

"Mer, do you think... do you think we are helping Frodo at all?"

"I don't know." Merry was quiet for a moment. "But this is what friends do for each other. Gandalf thought we should come, and so did we. Do you remember Frodo's face when Elrond said we could go? I don't think he much liked the thought of being sent off on this journey with so many Big Folk and only one hobbit for company. He was glad, Pip. He still is – and maybe that's enough help for now. We have a long way to go still, you know."

"I know."

"Your head still hurts, doesn't it?"

"Not like before. Not enough to drink more of that bitter stuff." Pippin found himself yawning.

"Try to sleep a bit more; Strider says it's the best thing you can do."

"I will... if you... will..." Pippin's voice trailed off.

Merry lay on his back and stared up at the clouds. He knew Pippin would miss Boromir keenly, and so would he. As best he could figure, they had been traveling together for two months. He remembered Caradhras... Moria... and Frodo would have been killed by that rock if not for Boromir. Still, he felt a growing unease.  He didn't like the way Boromir had been looking at Frodo recently. It was as if he wasn't even looking at him as a person, more as --- the word came unbidden to his mind --Ringbearer. Something wasn't right; they would just have to watch out for Frodo even more than before. Merry doubted his cousin had any idea how much he and Sam and Pippin worried about him, how closely they watched. He smiled to himself. It was just like their conspiracy back in the Shire.

As Merry gazed at the sky, he saw a large, soaring shape pass high overhead. Enormous bird, he thought sleepily, is that an eagle? He had never seen one, but Bilbo's stories were full of eagles. He noticed Legolas watching it carefully, but he didn't seem alarmed. Merry sighed and closed his eyes. If only one of the eagles could fly Frodo to the mountain, he mused, and he could just toss the Ring overboard... then just a short flight home... if only... finally he fell asleep.

** TBC **

Ainu Laire:  I hope you had a marvelous time at the “Ringers” premiere.  How exciting!

Andrea:  I understand that willow bark (the origin of our modern aspirin) is indeed extremely bitter.

aprilkat:  This story was my first venture into how others “saw” Frodo and his inner light.  In future stories (such as “Avalanche”, “Light Out of Darkness”, and “Sing Me Home” – among others) I tried to expand on it.

Baggins Babe:  I’m so thrilled you find this plausible, especially since I originally wrote this story in 2002 (in a rougher form) and was just trying my fanfic wings.  Oh yes, “movie” Boromir brought many of us into a new appreciation of this intriguing character.

Breon Briarwood:  Thanks, Breon!  I can imagine Gimli joking and relaxing as he began to feel more comfortable with the members of the Fellowship.

Cuthalion:  Thank you so much!  In 2002, when I was originally writing “Whispers”, I hadn’t a clue how to write Legolas or Gimli.  There are more Gimli scenes to come in this story, and they really taught me a lot.

Dreamflower:  I’m just so addicted to writing “sweet” moments!  Thank you so much for enjoying them with me.

French Pony:  I enjoyed writing that Legolas-Gimli scene.  The Books tell us that these two became good friends, but the Professor doesn’t go into much detail as to the evolution of that friendship.  I tried to bring a little of it out in this story, and much more in “Avalanche”.  And yes, I can imagine this Quest did more for Pippin’s “growing up” in one short year than a lifetime in the Shire might have done.

Garnet Took:  It’s a joy to write scenes between folks who don’t have too many conversations in the books – like Merry and Aragorn.

Grey Wonderer:  I like it when little “conspiracies of love” come out – such as Merry and Aragorn agreeing to be brave (or at least appear brave) for those who are depending on them.

harrowcat:  My favorite “Fellowship” theme is bonding and learning between its members.  These were nine very different people, who travelled a very long way together.  And you’re so right about the lembas!  I had fun with that in “In the Keeping of the King”, where Frodo was hoping there was no lembas in the first meal he and Sam were served after awakening in Ithilien.

Larner:  Frodo’s “light” is such a fascinating part of the Tale.  I try to write about it whenever I can.  And oh, I love the idea of hobbits visiting Erebor.  I hope they would be treated as well as Bilbo treated Thorin & Co. at Bag End!

Linda Hoyland:  Thank you, Linda.  “My” Fellowship (the one in my heart) is a mutually supportive one, and I just can’t seem to write them any other way.

lovethosehobbits:  I did post this story on fanfiction.net, but the version over there is very crude and was never beta’d.  I’m making lots of changes and revisions this time around.  Glad you’re enjoying the journey!

Pearl Took:  Hobbits have certainly taken over my heart, that’s for sure!

SlightlyTookish:  I can’t imagine Pippin being anything but unselfish.  He had every chance to avoid a dangerous Quest -- one which might mean he would never see home again -- but he simply wouldn’t hear of being left behind.  I’m sure he did everything in his power to prove to the Fellowship that he was one of them.

Tigger:  I’ve had my share of “doozy migraines”, as well!  They really can’t be described to anyone, can they?

WHISPERS OF THE DRAGON

Chapter 9 --- Nazgûl

"Young hobbit, I may be forced to sit on you."

Pippin and Gimli were sharing the afternoon watch on the eighth day, sitting together in one of the moored boats. Pippin had insisted he was feeling fine again, but Aragorn had quietly told Gimli not to let him exert himself too much. The Dwarf was beginning to think he had been given a task as impossible as finding mithril on the moon; he hauled the hobbit back just as Pippin was about to dash off for the third time.

"Gimli, I feel like I've slept through everything! It's hard to sit still for so long. I want to..." Suddenly Pippin's voice trailed off. Gimli looked at him, and noticed Pippin looking at his axe and frowning.

"Strider's sword has a name, and so does Frodo's. I suppose Boromir's does, too. Maybe I'll name mine if I ever get to do anything important with it," said Pippin. "Does your axe have a name?"

Gimli fingered his axe almost lovingly.

"It does not, Peregrin. Perhaps we can think of something."

"Well," Pippin said seriously, "you're certainly skilled with it. And you hate Orcs, that's plain. ‘Orc-Bane’ might be good."

"That is a good name. I will consider it." Gimli noticed Pippin shifting slightly, facing away from the sun. "Come, sit on this side of me. The air is chill, but the sun is bright. You do not want your headache returning."

Pippin was going to say no, but he did feel a slight ache starting. He moved around to the other side of the Dwarf and let Gimli shield him from the sun. After a few minutes, Gimli felt Pippin lean against him, just a little.

When Legolas and Merry came to relieve them, they found Pippin fast asleep, his head pillowed against the Dwarf's luxuriant beard. Gimli motioned for them to leave them be.

"Let him sleep," he said softly. He sat for awhile longer, his arm wrapped around Pippin, thinking. Thinking about Orcs... Khazad-Dûm... what lay ahead for them in Mordor. Orc-Bane, he thought approvingly. Indeed.

*~*~*~*~*

That evening, Aragorn gathered everyone together.

"I believe we can risk one more trip by night. If I am correct in my reckoning, we should reach the rapids of Sarn Gebir tomorrow morning. Just above the rapids is a small beach, at which point we will have to leave the River and find the ancient portage-way. The boats and gear must be carried until we have passed the rapids and can take to the River once more."

They set out in darkness.  In the lead boat, Sam kept his attention straight ahead. If anything was going to make the boat rock or become unsteady, he wanted to know about it. Indeed it was good that he was so attentive, as some hours later, he suddenly cried out as the River before them suddenly resolved into white-capped swirls and became turbulent. At the same time, a strong current started to draw the boats steadily toward the eastern shore.

"The rapids are upon us sooner than I feared," shouted Aragorn to the boats behind. "Paddle strongly back toward the center of the River or we will be driven onto the shore!" He and Frodo drove their paddles forcefully into the water, attempting to turn their boat.

Without warning, something sharp and hard hit Frodo from behind.  The force of the blow drove him off the seat onto his knees, his paddle flying from his grasp. Sam gasped as Frodo fell at his feet.

"Sam! Get Frodo's paddle. Now, Sam!" Aragorn was driving his paddle deeply into the water, urgently trying to turn the boat away from the eastern shore. Sam was reaching for Frodo, who was trying unsuccessfully to get up. "Keep down, Frodo. Sam, you have to help me, NOW!" At the last possible second, Sam grabbed Frodo's paddle as it swirled by and then leaped into the middle seat next to Aragorn. Mere seconds had passed, and only now he realized that there were harsh cries and yells coming from the eastern shore and arrows whizzing past them. "At least there's no moon," Aragorn muttered. "Paddle, Sam. As hard as you can."

Sam heard a yell from Pippin, but the other boats were behind them, and he couldn't turn to see what was happening.

"Paddle hard!" yelled Aragorn to the others. "Fight the currents and make for the shore!"

Sam didn't know how long they fought to turn the boats in the swift current, but his arms were aching by the time he realized they were making headway. The western shore loomed near, and for some reason the arrows had ceased to pursue them.  Aragorn was equally exhausted.

Apparently, the dark night -- combined with the subtle colors of the Elvish cloaks and the boats -- had camouflaged the Company sufficiently to confuse the Enemy. Sam’s eyes kept straying to Frodo, but there was nothing to be done until they reached the shore. He silently blessed the mithril coat that had probably saved his master from death. Again.

Finally the three boats scraped up on land, and Legolas instantly leaped ashore, an arrow nocked to his bow.

"Stay in the boats," the Elf urged. "Stay down."

Everyone but Gimli obeyed as the Elf scanned the eastern shore, the dark skies, and the River itself. Gimli stood next to Legolas, his axe in hand.

"Orcs," Gimli muttered. "Let them come!"

Sam could stand it no longer. He dropped his paddle and kneeled next to Frodo, trying to protect him with his body. He could feel Frodo breathing heavily, in obvious pain.

"I do not see anything," Legolas said. "Wait, what is that?"

Frodo suddenly felt an icy, piercing dart shoot through his left shoulder, a spreading, numbing cold he had not felt since...

"No," Frodo gasped, bowing his head in terror. As this new pain joined with the blow from the arrow, he started to find it difficult to breathe. He started to shake, and Sam wrapped his arms about him, holding him tightly. Sam was saying something to him, but louder still was a hollow voice, whispers coming closer. No, leave me alone I won't listen no...

Aragorn saw Frodo's distress, but Legolas' intense gaze drew his attention.  He saw a shadow in the sky blotting out the stars. Something was approaching from the southeast, coming directly at them. Something large... winged... a feeling of dread fell over the Company. Aragorn was reaching for his bow when Legolas let fly an arrow. There was a scream -- a chilling cry, familiar to the hobbits -- then the winged creature fell from the sky and landed somewhere on the eastern shore. There were faint yells, then silence.

Sam felt Frodo go limp in his arms. Frodo sighed as the icy pain faded somewhat, leaving a throbbing ache where the arrow had hit him and been deflected by the mithril coat. He sat up slowly, supported by Sam. He felt drained, weak. There was no doubt in his mind what had been approaching. But Elrond had cured him... hadn't he? How could the presence of a wraith affect him so? He shook his head, confused and frightened.

"Merry," Pippin whispered, "that awful screech sounded like one of those Black Riders. What was it riding on?"

"A Black Rider?" Boromir looked grim. "Aragorn, if the Nine now ride the skies, there is nothing to prevent them from crossing the River anywhere, at anytime. We cannot delay in carrying a warning to Rohan, to Gondor." He grew insistent. "Aragorn, we cannot delay! There can be no further thought of crossing to the eastern shore. It was unwise before, now even less so."

"That choice is still Frodo's, Boromir."

"Frodo, we must stay on the western shore, we must! How can you even consider---" Boromir stopped. "Are you injured?"

Aragorn suddenly realized that Frodo was still leaning against Sam, sitting weakly in the bottom of the boat.

"Frodo, let me see where that arrow hit you. Mithril or no, I'm sure that hurt quite a bit."

"I am all right."

Sam looked confused. "Mr. Frodo, Strider just wants to---"

"No, Sam." Frodo's lips were set in a hard line, and he looked grimly out over the water.

Aragorn glanced at Sam, then back at Frodo.

"I thought I knew you pretty well, Frodo, but this may be the first time I've seen you angry." Aragorn waited, not pressing the hobbit further.

Frodo just looked at him, then sighed.

"Gandalf said Elrond cured me."

Aragorn looked puzzled. "Go on."

"It was in Rivendell after... after I woke up. I believed him." Frodo looked away again, but now his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"Frodo," Aragorn said softly, "I have never seen anyone come closer to death and live; I hope never to see such a thing again. If you do not know, ask Sam sometime what those days in Rivendell were like for him, for all of us." Frodo heard Sam catch his breath and felt his arms tighten about him. He swallowed hard and took Sam's hand. "Do not ever doubt that Elrond cured you, Frodo," Aragorn continued. "No one else could have."

"But---"

"Elrond cured you, or you would even now walk in the shadow world forever lost to us. But once touched by a weapon of the Enemy..." The Ranger sighed. "Frodo, you are the first mortal ever to come through that and live. No one, not even Gandalf, could foresee everything that might happen. Gandalf used to say that even the wise could not see all ends. He did not intentionally deceive you, Frodo, there was just no precedent."

Aragorn reached out his hand and gently touched Frodo's right shoulder. "Your body now seems to respond to the presence of the Nazgûl; perhaps you can look on it as another sense, like sight or sound. If you can bear it, you may find it useful. You are one of the strongest people I've ever known, Frodo. You'll find the strength to handle this." He gazed at Sam. "Strength is all around you." Aragorn looked around, then smiled. "Son of Gloín, perhaps you would be kind enough to share some of that waybread you are consuming?"

Gimli grinned and handed out some of the lembas. As Aragorn had hoped, it helped distract the hobbits somewhat from the horror of the Orcs and the presence of a wraith so near. From the way Frodo kept glancing back across the River, the Ranger suspected that the wraith was still there, now lacking the means to reach them. They should be safe until morning at least -- as safe as it was possible to be in such a situation.

The Company paddled slowly and quietly back upriver, soon finding a shallow bay where they stopped. They spent the night huddled in the boats, concealed by a thickening fog. Sam saw a black arrow embedded in Boromir's boat, and discovered that Pippin's yell had come when he saw the arrow miss Merry's hand by less than an inch. Merry still seemed a bit shaken.

Frodo finally felt the icy, numbing sense of the Nazgûl fade entirely.

"I'm sorry, Aragorn, I didn't mean to be cross," he whispered.

"Frodo, if anyone deserves to be 'cross', it is you. Let me see if you're hurt. We have a long night ahead of us."

Frodo nodded, and the Ranger took Sam's place beside him, sliding his hand up Frodo's back beneath the soft leather shirt next to the hobbit's skin. He would not permit Frodo to remove the mithril coat; the Enemy was too near. It was difficult to determine in such darkness, but it appeared to Aragorn that Frodo's shoulder was bruised and tender, but no worse. He asked Sam to keep a cold, wrung-out cloth pressed gently to the sore area, which helped ease the pain.

As a damp fog closed in about the Company, they settled down to wait out the night.

** TBC **

Andrea:  Pippin is a wonder, isn’t he?  What an adventure for a tween.

aprilkat:  The films didn’t really show how practical, clear thinking, and strategic Merry is; I like to bring that out whenever I can.

Armariel:  Movie-Boromir is very endearing and “human”.  It’s hard not to like him!

Cuthalion:  That was a long trip down the River, and sharp-eyed and sharp-thinking Merry would have been picking up clues and putting them together all the day.

French Pony:  I suspect that a warrior like Boromir is used to shrugging off injuries -- minor or otherwise – and just “getting on with things”.  Perhaps, also, he doesn’t want the hobbits to feel that one of their ‘protectors’ is weakened in any way.

GamgeeFest:  I agree!  Our young Took, like his cousins, is always thinking.

Garnet Took:  I’m glad you’re enjoying the conversations.  And when I began writing this story, I didn’t know it would have so many “PippinHealer” moments!  It just evolved that way.

harrowcat:  Each member of the Fellowship had choices to make... but I agree -- in their hearts, each knew what he had to do.

Linda Hoyland:  Poor Boromir!  Yes, his tragic destiny grows ever closer... and yet he, as the others, could only endure to the limit of his strength.

lovethosehobbits and Pearl Took:  Chartering a flight on Gwaihir Airlines would certainly have shortened the story! 

periantari:  So much would have been different if there had been no involuntary “breaking” of the Fellowship.  What fun that fanfiction can explore every “what if” we can imagine.

pipspebble:  Our hobbits are so brave and loyal!  How we do love them.

SlightlyTookish:  Our dear Took is growing up – and what wonderful mentors and teachers he has around him.

SurgicalSteel:  One of the Professor’s major themes is definitely ‘freedom of choice’ – such as I tried to bring out in Aragorn’s discussion with Merry in Chapter 7.

Tigger:  Thank you, Tigger!  And I hope you’re feeling well.  Yes, Frodo was surrounded by conspiracies of love, wasn’t he?  How fortunate that Elrond let his cousins go with him on the Quest.

The End!  Thank you for reading, everyone.  This chapter contains quotes from The Fellowship of the Ring.

WHISPERS OF THE DRAGON

Chapter 13 --- Not Alone

Sam sat up quickly, his heart in his throat. Had Frodo left? Was he gone? He sighed with relief to see his friend standing alone at the River's edge, gazing into the early-morning mist. Everyone else was still asleep. Sam got up and walked to Frodo's side.

"Good morning, Mr. Frodo," he said quietly. He frowned at the sight of Frodo holding Sting in his right hand. "Is everything all right?"

"Morning, Sam. Yes, everything's all right... well, now, that is."

"What do you mean?"

”Sting was glowing a bit a few hours ago. Orcs about, presumably."

Sam gasped and looked across the River, then behind them into the trees. "Which side?"

"I don't know. Aragorn thought it might be a few of them roaming on the eastern shore." Frodo fell silent again.

This was the morning Frodo had to choose, east or west. Sam wished he could take the burden off his friend, but no one could. He had to know.

"Mr. Frodo," he said softly. Frodo turned to face him. "Which side?"

Frodo closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered.

*~*~*~*~*

The Ring-bearer is setting out on the quest of Mount Doom. On him alone is any charge laid... Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall... Elrond's voice, so clear. What did Gandalf say about...?

"Frodo?"

With a start, Frodo realized everyone was looking at him expectantly. Seated in a circle after their morning meal, the time had finally come.

Frodo looked at every face. His Fellowship. Had anyone ever had such friends, such protectors? He shook his head.

"I cannot choose yet. Let me be alone for an hour." He sighed. "I cannot remember the last time I was truly alone."

Sam and Merry exchanged worried glances, but Sam remembered what Merry had said the day before. As long as Frodo didn't get his hands on one of the boats, he couldn't take off east alone. And to head toward Minas Tirith made no sense at all, as far as Sam could see.

"Very well.  An hour, Frodo... no longer." Aragorn said nothing else, although he longed to beg, to plead. Please don't go far. Stay safe.

Sam noted that Frodo chose the path that climbed up the slope, and saw that Boromir was also following Frodo's departure with his eyes. Everyone else looked down, or away, respectful of Frodo's need to be alone. Even Pippin suddenly found a corner of his cloak fascinating to examine.

After some time, Pippin sighed, still looking down.

"Boromir, is Mordor truly as awful as you say?"

"I trust the tales I have heard, little one."

"Oh."

No one said anything else for a long time, each person heavy with his own thoughts.

*~*~*~*~*

Sam was getting uneasy. "Strider," he said, "with respect, sir, Mr. Frodo's been gone a bit longer than an hour, I would say."

"I agree, Sam,” Aragorn said.  “We must call for him."

Everyone sprang to their feet, eager to be the one to find Frodo.

"Wait---!"

With no further thought, Sam immediately dashed up the slope in the direction Frodo had gone. Boromir ran after him, then overtook the hobbit and raced on, his thoughts confused and spinning. After a long climb, he reached a level spot quite high up on the hill, and spotted Frodo across a clearing walking aimlessly among broken statuary. Frodo looked up, startled, as the Man came into view. Boromir stopped, looking at him. Looking past him. The hill commanded a clear view toward the southwest, the wooded, broken landscape between this place and home. Home, Boromir thought. The Ring, I have to----

Just then Sam arrived at the top of the hill, panting for breath. The thoughts of the previous night descended upon Boromir's mind like a black cloud. Surely Frodo will trade the Ring for something... for someone... With no clear thought of what he was doing, or why, Boromir grabbed the hobbit as he raced past, pulling him tightly against him. Before either Sam or Frodo knew what was happening, Boromir had pulled Sam's sword from its sheath and was holding it against the his throat.

"Put your sword on the ground, Frodo," Boromir rasped in a strange, tight voice. "Do it NOW." His left arm was wrapped tightly around Sam's chest and arms, and he could feel Sam's wildly beating heart. He held the small sword steady at the hobbit's throat.

In shock at the sight before him, Frodo reached down with shaking hands and pulled Sting from its sheath. Slowly he bent down, placed it on the grass, and stood up again.

Boromir nodded his head at the broken stump of a pillar several yards away. "Take out the Ring. Put it on that stone and back away." He felt Sam catch his breath in shock.

"Mr. Frodo, no!" Sam cried. "Run, sir!"

Frodo stood still, unable to move. How could this be happening?

Finally he stirred. "Boromir," he whispered, "what are you doing?" He took a step forward. "You know this is wrong. Let Sam go." He took another step. "Don't listen to the Ring, Boromir. You know this is wrong! Boromir, don't listen!"

"Don't make me hurt him, Frodo," Boromir said grimly. Frodo halted, his thoughts spinning.

"Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered, "Please run!"

This isn't Boromir. It can't be. In all his nightmares about the Ring and its fate, Frodo had never imagined anything like this. He was but a sheltered, weary hobbit trying to do what the Wise believed he alone could do. How could he make such a choice as this? He only knew that if Boromir harmed Sam, his Sam, two good people would be lost. Not Sam, no, please no. If he handed over the One Ring to a Man crazed with greed and desperation, all of Middle-earth could be lost. He couldn't give Boromir the Ring. He couldn't lose Sam. He couldn't choose.

Against his will, his hand inched up toward the Ring, Boromir watching him, breathing heavily. The Ring wanted to go with Boromir, Frodo could feel it. It would destroy the Man and the Dark Lord would enslave him. The Shadow spreading, devouring... Sobbing, his eyes never leaving Sam's, Frodo forced his hand away from the Ring, into a deep pocket, fingers curling around the Phial of Galadriel. "A light to you in dark places," she had said. This is darkness, Frodo thought desperately. Help me.

Suddenly Boromir looked past him and gasped. Sam, too, went rigid, his eyes wide. Frodo turned around and saw Sting glowing faintly blue. Even as they looked, the sword grew a bit brighter. Frodo looked around them wildly, and with a cry Boromir released Sam, thrust the small sword into Sam's hand, and pulled out his own.

Boromir stared aghast at Frodo, then at Sam. "What have I done?" he whispered. He felt to be waking from a nightmare. "Sam, I would never... I could never have..." Whirling about and looking back down the hill they had climbed, he could just make out Merry and Pippin barely visible through the trees, still searching for Frodo, unaware of any danger. He turned for one last, desperate look at Frodo and Sam. Sting grew brighter. "Run," he urged hoarsely. With that, he raced down the hill, all thought of the Ring forgotten in his need to warn his little ones.

Frodo raced to where Sam had fallen shakily to the ground. Frodo sank to his knees and flung his arms about his friend for a long moment, both clinging tightly to the other.

"Sam, oh Sam," Frodo whispered, tears still streaming down his face.

"I'm all right," Sam said shakily.

The Ring, Frodo thought wildly, it was the Ring. Who will be next? There was no other choice. He threw himself to his feet, breathing heavily, as all indecision left him.

"I have to go."

Sam looked at him and stood up. "Not alone, sir," he said steadily. "Not without your Sam."

Frodo shook his head, backing away. "You don't understand. I have to go alone. It's certain death, you can't come. You can't!"

To his horror, Sam saw Frodo reaching for the Ring. With a cry, he flung himself forward, toppling Frodo to the ground. Sam grasped both his friend's hands and held them tightly between his own, Frodo staring up at him in shock.

"Mr. Frodo, I'm coming with you. You'll not go alone and that's that. Now let's get away from this place before we're found here." Sam slowly released Frodo's hands and rose to his feet, then held his hand out. In a daze, Frodo grasped his friend's hand and stood up.

"Sam," Frodo whispered. Slowly he took a deep breath and nodded, suddenly relieved beyond measure. "All right, it's plain we were meant to go together." The shadow of a smile touched his lips. "Come, then."

Stopping only to retrieve Sting, with one last look about them they raced down the hill choosing a different direction than Boromir had gone, flitting as silently as only hobbits could through the trees toward the River. Toward Mordor.

** END **

Andrea:  I always try to portray Merry as quick-thinking, intelligent, and always putting the welfare of his companions first.

Anso the Hobbit:  I hope you found the ending absorbing... I tried to think of something that brought us back to canon, but that wasn't completely predictable.

aprilkat:  Thank you so much for your lovely words.  As this was one of my very first stories, I’m so gratified that it held together and told a tale worth reading.  Merry was so overlooked in the films, but such a strategic and intelligent hobbit in the books.

Baggins Babe:  What a truly agonizing decision for Frodo.  I went a bit more "AU" in this chapter, but the result was the same.  Thank you very much for coming along on this journey.

Cuthalion:  That was my first attempt at a hobbity riddle, and I’m relieved it didn’t take Pippin too long to solve it!  Yes, poor Gimli and a missed opportunity to study ancient stonework... but he’ll be getting an opportunity to explore something quite unexpected in my next story.

Dreamflower:  I love how fanfiction can help us fill in the gaps that Professor Tolkien was kind enough to leave us.  And we can all fill them in differently!  What a joy.

French Pony:  Maybe someone will write a fic someday about Gimli re-visiting the Argonath to take a closer look.  What a cute idea.

Frodo Baggins:  I agree that Boromir "lost" himself due to the Ring's corrupting influence.  He definitely redeemed himself at the end, and died as noble a death as was available to him.

Garnet Took:  I’m glad you enjoyed my explanation as to why Merry and Pippin had lembas in their pockets when they were captured; I love thinking about little details like that.  And Boromir’s “ring spell” thoughts (and actions) were indeed unsettling -- and I’m sure as surprising to him as to the others.  What a tragedy.  *sigh*

Gentle Hobbit:  I just can't seem to stop figuring out possible explanations for little things... like lembas in hobbity pockets!

harrowcat:  Yes, I just had to get that lembas in their pockets... just in case they needed it later.  :D

lbilover:  Thank you!  Gimli-hobbit conversations are so rare, I’m going to try to work at least one or two into my next story.

Larner:  I suspect that all the hobbits (not just Bilbo) would have fared equally well in a riddle-game with Gollum.  It seems an art-form (or entertainment) that is in the blood of every hobbit.

Linda Hoyland:  My goodness, "unputdownable" is a lovely compliment!  Thank you.

Mysterious Jedi:  Thank you.

SlightlyTookish:  I do love getting into Pippin’s head (well, all of their heads, actually).  He will think of and say things that no one else would, but which are very insightful and delightful.  I can’t seem to get enough of finding gap-fillers for the Professor’s unanswered questions... such as why Merry and Pippin just happened to have lembas in their pockets when they were captured!

SurgicalSteel:  My first riddle!  I agonized over it, and now appreciate how hard they are to invent.  And yes, poor Boromir; but at the very end, he regained his honor and showed his quality.