Twisted Fate
IceAngel

Genre - Adventure
Rating - PG
Status - Work in Progress
Main Characters - Faramir, Aragorn, Legolas, Fellowship
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Summary: The journey of the Fellowship with a new twist. What if Faramir had been the son of Denethor to embark on the quest to Imladris? The classic tale of the Lord of the Rings retold, and only time will make known if Faramir’s loyalties will keep the Fellowship together or drive them all apart.
reviewer pics for loyal reviewers

Chapter1: Imladris

The gentle sunlight faded quickly as Faramir passed through the archway into one of the inner chambers of Rivendell. The room had no window, and he was forced to wait a moment before his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Three days it had been since he had come to Imladris and finally solved the first of the puzzling words that had come to him months before in a dream. Yet even here the dream haunted him still, and little sleep he had found in the last homely house.

Faramir's step was cautious as he moved into the darkened room, his eyes taking in everything. Dusty bookshelves lined the walls on his left, and hung on the wall to his right was a large, richly coloured painting.

It was a library. Faramir was pleasantly surprised by his discovery. He could have spent days searching the halls and chambers of Rivendell for this very place, and he had found it without even looking.

He looked to the books on his left, unable to suppress his curiosity any longer. There were old volumes of bound leather, and also several more recent publications. He reached up to lift down one of these when a sudden sound from behind stayed his hand.

He reached instinctively for his sword. His hand met nothing but air and he remembered the outlaw of weapons in Imladris. When first he had come there Faramir had been pleased by the law that declared absolute peace, but now he was not so sure.

He turned cautiously, unsure what to expect. At first he could see nothing, the shadows at the end of the hall being too dark. After another moment something shifted in the darkness and the shape of a figure could be seen.

Faramir's breath caught in his throat. Had the figure been watching him the entire time? He could only just see the man's eyes watching him intensely from beneath a dark hood.

"Goodmorrow," Faramir began haltingly, "I did not see you there."

The man said nothing at first. And Faramir almost thought he would not respond. But after a moment the grey eyes met his once more.

"You are a ranger?" The voice was low and was perhaps more refined than Faramir had expected.

"I..." Faramir was startled for a moment until he realised he was still wearing his cloak. It was thinner than most cloaks worn by men of Gondor and it was its green and brown hues were designed to blend into the trees.

He smiled slightly as he studied the man's own clothing in the dim light. "I see I am not the only one who uses the trees as his shield."

The man seemed to smile at the image, and shifted slightly in his chair. "Do you come from Gondor, or Minas Tirith itself?"

Faramir found himself annoyed at the tone of command in the other's voice. What right did a ranger of the North have to question him? He avoided the question easily.

"I see you know something of the lay of the land? Tell me, Ranger, from whence do you come?"

The man seemed to shrug slightly, shifting the book he held in his lap. "I am Strider, Ranger of the North. All lands are my home."

Faramir pressed his lips together in a grim smile. He had expected no less of this man. A real name had been too much to hope for.

"I am Faramir, Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien," he said, deciding to speak plainly and lead by example.

The man's stare hardened at the words, and Faramir found himself suddenly uncomfortable under the other's scrutiny.

"And what is Denethor's son doing so far from his city?"

Faramir did not react, though he was surprised the other knew of his lineage. "Have you travelled in the south lands?" he asked, finding himself intrigued by the mysterious stranger's depth of knowledge.

"Many lands have been my home, and I have studied long in Imladris." Then the man smiled as if he knew something Faramir did not. "If you wished to visit the larger library in Rivendell, I would show you."

Faramir smiled slightly despite himself. The man had found out his passion and given him an offer he would not refuse. Now, he realised, he would be in the man's debt. Faramir would think twice before engaging in another battle of wills with this man, Strider. He seemed to casually observe nothing, while in truth he took in each minute detail for future use.

Strider laid the book he had been reading face down on the arm of his chair and Faramir, though he tried, could not make out the title. As they moved together towards the doorway Faramir happened to glance up at the painting to his left. It was a familiar subject to him, as it was to all those who dwelt in the city founded by the sons of Elendil. It was a depiction of the last stand of Isildur against Sauron. Yet he thought that he had never seen it in such a light before. In Gondor it was an image of loyalty and courage. Though as he gazed at it in the small dust-filled room he felt a great sadness, and saw more clearly the great weakness men had for greed and corruption.

Strider had followed his gaze, and as Faramir turned back to him he saw that a great shadow had fallen upon his companion, and that his face was drawn and lined.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The night was warm and Faramir lay beneath thin sheets. His window opened above the Bruinen but the upward draft from the river did nothing to cool the chamber. He turned over, the material clinging to his body, and looked outwards where the stars shone above Rivendell. It was long ere sleep came to him, for he did not relish the thought of experiencing the dream that had torn him away from his home. Yet when sleep did come, the dream of the pale light in the west did not. Instead he saw a man with a star on his brow, and a broken sword being forged anew. His sleep-numbed mind told him that if the King of men were to be found anywhere in middle earth, it would be in the house of Elrond.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Faramir woke with a feeling of peace for the first time in many mornings. The sun had already risen high in the sky as he dressed himself hurriedly, remembering that Elrond had called the council for early that very morning.

Elves glanced sternly at him as he hurried along the balconies, glancing every few moments at the postion of the sun. He slowed his pace, looking down at his boot that he had carelessly forgotten to lace. He sighed in frustration. It would have to wait. Distracted, he did not see the group of elves who had moved out onto the path til he had walked into them.

There was a grunt, and Faramir looked up, cringing, to see the Elf he had knocked to the ground. It was unlike him to cause such accidents. Being a Ranger, his skills for moving swifly and silently had always helped him to avoid such incidents when among other men. Yet elves possesed such hightened skills as to make him feel heavy and ungraceful.

"Forgive me," he said quickly, offering the fallen Elf a hand by which to right himself. But the Elf declined, recovering himself without his aid. He rose to Faramir's height, fixing the Ranger with what seemed to be a scornful gaze. The Elf was unlike those of Elrond's house, as his hair was blond and his cloak pale green. The Elf said something to his companions in Sindarin. Faramir's learning of the languange was not sufficiant enough to catch the quickly spoken words, but he presumed them to have spoken of himself for the other elves laughed lightly and flashed him amused glances.

Faramir had not the time to follow up on the insult, for he knew himself to be already late for the council.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He was seated beside a Dwarf. This would not have bothered him were it not for the Elf on his other side. It was ~that~ Elf, the one with whom he had colided before the council, and it seemed to him that being seated next to the stout bearded creature on his left lowered him even more in the eyes of the tall Elf.

"Gimli, son of Gloin," the Dwarf announced, leaning over and grasping Faramir's hand in a crushing grip.

"Faramir of Gondor," he replied, trying hard not to wince as the Dwarf released his bruised fingers. He could feel the Elf's eyes upon his once more, and clenched his jaw in frustration. What a position to be thrown into! "I am not sure if Elrond invited me to this council only to sit between yourselves and the elves." he said to Gimli, loud enough for the Elf to overhear.

The Dwarf laughed heartily, "You may be right! Elrond is half an Elf himself, you know? Cunning folk they are. Dangerous. Never trust an Elf." Faramir smiled, he had expected the Dwarf to feel that way.

"But he is also half man," Gimli went on, "so there must be some sense in him."

Faramir smiled at the complement, and was glad that the Dwarf seemed to harbour no such ill feeling towards the race of men as he did to the elves.

"And here is the great Elf himself!"

Faramir looked up to see Elrond's arrival. The dark-haired Elf seemed showed his age more clearly than when Faramir had first come to Rivendell. For although the skin of Elrond's face was unmarked by his long years his eyes were dark with strain and worry.


"The council will take place now all have come, and you all shall learn the answers to your riddles..."
 

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Chapter2: The Fellowship

Gimli the Dwarf stood tall and proudly puffed out his chest as he began his tale. Frodo heard little of what the Dwarf said and only reacted when the Dwarf told of a black messenger who had come in the night. Frodo was sure it was one of the black riders that had chased him to the Ford. He shivered slightly at the memory, and felt a chilling pain in his shoulder. Gimli told of how the rider had instructed Gimli's father to seek out a Hobbit and take from him a simple ring. Frodo shuddered also at the thought of the black riders searching for Bilbo, and Gandalf looked down at him, his brow creased with worry.

Gimli finished his tale and sat down, waiting for an answer.

Elrond stood, "You have done well to come," he said, "here you shall learn that your trouble is but part of the trouble of all the western world." The wise Elf looked around the circle and seemed to meet the eyes of every one of his guests. "The ring," he began impressively, "what shall we do with the ring? First, so that all may understand the peril, the tale of the ring shall be told from beginning to end."

Frodo felt fatigued with worry and sleepy in the afternoon sun. He did not take in much of the tale, only the very end. Isildur, Aragorn's ancestor, had cut the ring from Sauron's hand and taken it for himself.

Frodo saw the surprised faces on the guests around the table and Elrond gave them a minute to digest the news. "Isildur took it, as should not have been! It should have been cast into Orodruin the fire mountain where it was made. Sauron's power was diminished but not destroyed, Isildur was killed and the ring was lost but not unmade. The race of Numenor decayed and only Gondor endured."

At the mention of Gondor, Elrond asked the man named Faramir to speak. He stood, like to Aragorn in looks and yet younger, Frodo thought, and less familiar with their Elvish surrounds for his eyes strayed as he spoke. He told of a strange dream with a broken sword, Isildur's Bane and a Halfling. As the man finished his piercing grey eyes fell on Frodo, and the Hobbit felt as though the other could see right through him. "I have come to the house of Elrond to seek advice on the meaning of the dream."

A dark shadow emerged from the doorway and Frodo saw Strider's grey eyes gleam from beneath the hood.

"And here in the House of Elrond your dream shall be made clear to you." Aragorn's voice was strong and clear and as he threw back the hood of his cloak, a look of confusion passed over Faramir's face.

Aragorn reached beneath his grey cloak and drew his sword. Frodo saw many of the guests flinch away only to see that Aragorn's blade was broken.

"Here, is the sword that was broken," Aragorn said impressively, "it was Isildur's sword that was crushed beneath him when he fell. It was spoken among us that it should be made again when Isildur's Bane was found. And now that time has come. The sword shall be reforged, and I will come to Minas Tirith."

Frodo saw Faramir's eyes widen as the man took in Aragorn's dark hair and grey eyes. Frodo knew he had not now the looks of a King of Gondor but anyone in his presence could feel an air about him that spoke of strength, honour and power.

"My Lord," Faramir began, Aragorn's true identity. "You are... "

To Frodo, Aragorn had been transformed from their first meeting in Bree, The distinguishing features of the Kings of old shone through, and steady in his hand was the very sword with which Elendil faced Saruon. Frodo then watched the young man's face with interest, for he did not speak aloud the turmoil that was in his eyes.

"But what of Isildur's Bane?" Gimli interrupted. "You say it has been found. Where is it?"

"It is time Frodo," Gandalf said quietly. The small Hobbit stood and while many sharp eyes glared at him, he made his way to the centre of the circle where a table had been placed for this purpose. He took the ring from his pocket and as his fingers touched its surface, he felt an almost mastering urge to put it on and disappear. It was only by the greatest amount of will power that he was able to place the ring on the table and let it go. He could feel sweat running down his face from the effort as he regained his seat.

Even as he sat there and listened to the tale of the creature Gollum and how Bilbo found the weapon of the enemy, Frodo could hear, feel the ring calling out to him. Frodo clenched his teeth and tried to focus on what was being said.

Gandalf spared him a worried glance as the old wizard finished his tale.

"But where is this Gollum creature now?" someone asked.

"He is in prison," Aragorn put in, startling everyone again, "he is safe in the captivity of the Elves of Mirkwood. I fear he would do great mischief if he were let to go his own way."

Legolas, the son of the King of Mirkwood sprang to his feet.

"Alas! The tidings I bring from my father must now be told. Only now do I realise how evil they might prove. Gollum has escaped."

"Escaped!" Aragorn exclaimed, unable to hide his dismay. This is evil news, how was it the trust we placed in your people has failed?"

"Not through lack of watchfulness," said Legolas, and Frodo could see the anguish in the Elf's face as he spoke, "but perhaps through over kindliness. We also fear the creature had help from others. Orcs."

A low murmur passed around the circle at the name of the Elves' evil cousins. Legolas continued, "We watched Gollum day and night, I myself taking much of the responsibility for there had been rumours of Orcs at the forest border many soldiers had gone to investigate. Two nights since we took Gollum to get a breath of air for we are not cruel in our captivity and wished the creature some escape from his dark mutterings

"You never showed me the same kindness," Glóin the Dwarf interrupted grumpily.

"Peace Glóin," Gandalf said severely, "it was a mistake long rectified." The Dwarf stood and bowed, allowing the Elf to continue.

"He was let to climb a tree as he had many times before, myself and four others remained at the bottom. After calling too many times for him to return, I decided to climb the tree and investigate. I had only just reached the top when the Orcs attacked." Legolas' eyes had grown misty and he held his left arm as if it hurt at the memory. "My companions were killed and Gollum gone as no doubt the orcs plainly purposed."

"What is done, cannot be undone," Gandalf stated, motioning the Elf to sit down. "Gollum may yet have some part to play. But what shall we do with the ring?"

"Our choice is plain," Gimli said, "we can keep the ring from Sauron, we can send it over the sea or we can . . . destroy it."

"The ring must be destroyed!" Elrond decided, "there is not the strength among us to withstand the enemy. We will send a company of nine walkers to be set against the dark riders. But who will be the ring bearer?"

There was silence, all knew the danger of the ring and although some yearned to reach out for it, they would not declare themselves here.

Frodo knew deep in his heart what he had to do, so he stood, all eyes upon him.
 

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Chapter3: Caradhras the Cruel

Darkness crept over the land as the Fellowship neared the towering heights of Caradhras. The sun was hidden behind the shadowed peaks as the nine walkers drew closer. Gandalf was leading the way, his mind heavy with responsibility. He looked over his shoulder for a moment as they neared the top of a small rise. It was strange, he thought, that the fate of Middle Earth had come to this, a mismatched group of strangers, who held the weight of the world upon their shoulders.

Behind him, Gimli and Legolas walked quickly along, emersed in an argument that had been raging for over three days. Gandalf shook his head at them, wondering at how quickly they had formed a close, if not a little unusual friendship. Their relationship seemed to be made entirely from arguments and provoking insults.

Faramir walked a short way behind the Dwarf and Elf. Gandalf was more than a little relieved that Denethor's younger son had been the one to make the journey to Rivendell. His brother Boromir was a valiant man, a leader of men, but inside Gandalf had an idea that Faramir's qualities would likely prove more useful. Faramir had been very quiet the last few days, and seemed to be lost in silent contemplation.

Behind Faramir the four Hobbits struggled forwards as quickly as they could. Over a fortnight ago, during the first few days out from Rivendell, Gandalf and Aragorn had led with Legolas as rear-guard and the Hobbits had been excited and talkative. But as the way got steeper and the track narrowed, it was all they could do to keep up. Gandalf was especially worried about the younger two, Merry and Pippin, for although it was he that had advised Elrond to let them join the company, he was concerned they would not make the distance.

Gandalf had told Aragorn to walk behind and make sure the Hobbits did not stray but it was Bill the pony that caused the most trouble. Although very useful as a baggage carrier, Bill seemed to be one of the slowest creatures in Middle Earth! Sam literally had to push him up the steep inclines.

"Mithrandir? Is anything amiss?" Legolas asked as he and Gimli almost ran into him.

Gandalf shook his white beard and blinked away his personal thoughts, "We have reached the base of Caradhras, we will make camp here for a few hours."

Breathing sighs of relief, the Hobbits threw themselves to the ground.

"Aragorn," Pippin began, "there wouldn't be a chance of some food would there?"

"Good idea," Merry agreed, "I'd say it was time for dinner."

Aragorn smiled slightly and turned to Faramir who was carrying much of the supplies, "What do you say, Faramir? Do these young Hobbits deserve something or should we save the supplies in case of emergencies?"

Before Faramir could blink, the two young Hobbits had jumped onto his back, throwing him forwards. He fell on to the grass face first and Merry sat on him while Pippin pulled out various food packages from his bag.

"This IS an emergency," Pippin informed Aragorn, "if Merry and I do not eat, you will be forced to listen to our stomachs grumbling all the way."

Faramir found it impossible to breathe while the Hobbit was sitting on him, not to mention how hard he was laughing at the way they had worked together to ambush him.

Satisfied that they had enough food to last them till the supper that they hoped they would get, the Hobbits climbed off Faramir and Aragorn had to help him get up.

"Whoever said size does not matter is to be congratulated," Gandalf chuckled, "for today Faramir has proved him right."

"I have Aragorn to thank for that," Faramir smiled, glaring at the man who stood by his side.

"I am sorry my friend," Aragorn said, almost serious, "I made a "little" mistake."

Everyone groaned. "If that was a joke it is the worst one I've heard," Gimli growled.

"I have to say I agree with the Dwarf," Legolas said, a faint smile on his lips. Pippin who had stood up after his meal pretended to faint while Merry applauded.

"Who would have thought it?" Gandalf smiled, "you two actually agreeing on something."

"Nonetheless," Gimli said, "an axe is better than a bow whatever Master Legolas may say."

"Not so!" Legolas said and everyone groaned as the argument began again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gandalf gazed up at the sky above as he kept watch. Dark, menacing clouds swept above and hid the stars from sight. The fellowship had been traveling during the night to avoid unwanted notice and Gandalf knew it was almost time to wake everyone.

He was startled for a moment, although he did not show it, when a dark shape came from behind him. Aragorn came into the circle of firelight and sat down near the Wizard.

"It is almost time," he said, Gandalf nodded assent.

"Tonight we shall be on our way high up, towards the Redhorn Gate. We may be seen by watchers on the narrow path but the weather may prove a greater enemy. What do you think?"

Aragorn replied quickly as though he had come to Gandalf only to speak on this subject, "We must not delay the passage over the mountains, further south there are no passes save the Gap of Rohan and I do not trust that way since your news of Saruman and his desire for the ring."

"But there is another way," Gandalf said in a rapid whisper, "the dark and secret way we have spoken of."

"And may we not speak of it again, say nothing to the others, unless . . . there is no other way." Aragorn's eyes were dark and Gandalf could see something akin to fear in them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gandalf looked down at the chasm of darkness to his right and inadvertently shivered. The towering heights to the left made him feel like a fly on a wall, vulnerable and in plain sight of anyone who watched them. Not long ago, a swirling shower of snow begun to fall, whipping about them and flying into their faces. A chilling mist stung their hands and faces, Gandalf could feel the cold seeping even into his boots.

The Hobbits were the worst off, their small bodies were no protection against the swirling wind and the whirling snow.

"I don't like this at all," Sam said, pulling on Bill's rains to make him move. "Snow's alright on a fine morning but I like to be in bed when it's falling."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The snow had become a blinding blizzard, none of the fellowship save Legolas could see two feet in front of them. Gandalf felt fear clutch at his heart, he did not like to scare the others but this was like no natural storm he had ever seen.

"There are fell voices on the air!" Gandalf heard Legolas' fair elven voice rise above the wind.

"And those stones are aimed at us," Gimli shouted as giant boulders crashed down the mountain to their left. "The enemy, it is the mountain itself! Caradhras was called the Cruel, and had an ill name long years before the name of Sauron had been heard of."

"It doesn't matter who it is!" Pippin shouted, seemingly fed up with the snow that was freezing his blood and the ice that flew into his eyes, "it's attacking us!"

"We must either stop here or go back," Gandalf decided, bitterly. "The storm will only get worse as we get higher."

"It's no use trying to go back while the storm holds! This is the best shelter we can find." Aragorn added.

Sam looked up at the cliff wall that rose to immeasurable heights above the narrow path. "If this is shelter, then two walls and no roof make a house!"
 

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Chapter4: As White as Snow

Dark eyes followed the nine figures as they struggled through the blizzard. A faint smile played on his lips as he carefully studied each of the nine. He had overestimated the grey fool's intelligence. To walk openly bearing the weapon of the enemy was a mistake even he had not foreseen Gandalf the Grey making. He had thought the Wizard had more intelligence than that.

He looked with derision at each of the travellers who followed blindly in the old man's wake. He narrowed his eyes and gazed deeper into the palantír, willing his mind to draw closer that he might see the faces of the men. With a weak smile, he recognised the self-styled King of Gondor, ragged and covered by a thin grey cloak, shouting over the wind.

He sneered when he saw four of the creatures Gandalf valued so much, toiling in the waist-deep snow. For the life of him, he could not understand what the grey Wizard saw in worthless Halflings.

His smile broadened as he watched the tall, golden haired Elf walk lightly over the snow leaving not so much as a footprint, and the stout dwarf beside him using so much of his energy to get through the snow drifts. He knew them both and their names. He had watched Gimli and his father's journey to Rivendell from the Lonely Mountain and he had watched with interest as Thranduil and his son tried to control the wild forest of Mirkwood and keep their realm free from danger.

He looked away from the stone for a moment, regaining some of the energy he had expended. Gathering his white robes around him, he stood for a moment in quiet thought. He knew much of the minds and men but unless he was gravely mistaken, these lone wanderers held the fate of Middle Earth in their hands. One of them carried it, he knew that the bearer was most likely a Halfling as Gandalf would not have trusted the men, nor himself for that matter, to be able to resist the temptation. The Dwarf and the Elf would not suffer each other to carry it so that left only the Halflings. These nine were all that stood between himself and absolute power. He would have had it by now had Gandalf had been wise enough to accept his offer. But when he did receive it, for the trouble they had caused him, they would all suffer and Gandalf would be made to watch and see what he had done.

He looked closer into the stone and his mind wavered for a second as he looked at the last man. It was not who he had expected to find and his vision blurred with shock. What did this mean for his own plans? If Gondor entirely supported the alliance, would not have Denethor sent his eldest on a quest that so much depended on? Was this a sign that Denethor had decided against war? That he had thought of his people, those who would die and those who would be left behind? Perhaps Denethor was content to make peace between Gondor and Mordor. If so . . . What did that mean for himself?

He had found out much of the son's of Denethor from his spies, after all they were next in line to the Stewardship. Boromir, the eldest would be a great leader like his father. Resolute and valiant in battle, the strongly built man would command and be obeyed. As for Faramir . . . He looked down on the young man, and was startled when Faramir seemed to know he was being watched and his own dark gaze was met by determined grey eyes. Faramir was much more slender than his brother and the physical resemblance was not strong save the dark hair and grey eyes they both possessed. From the information he had gained from a spy who posed as one of Faramir's man servants, he had found that although Faramir was a skilled warrior, he greatly disliked conflict and preferred to spend his time furthering his knowledge of lore and music.

He wondered whether it were more likely the youngest son of Denethor had taken it upon himself to seek out answers and that Denethor had made no plans regarding war.

"If this is so," Saruman said aloud, "I will have to re-think my position."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gimli cursed the Elf for the hundredth time as he pressed himself further against the cliff wall. Why did Elves have all the luck? They could walk over the snow as if it were a road, and if that was not enough, Legolas had just told him he did not feel the cold! Blasted Elf! He drew his cloak further around him and tried to stop shivering. Hours they had been here, long freezing hours that dragged on and on.

Beside him, Frodo and the two younger Hobbits sat huddled against the rough stone wall, blue in the face and shivering. On his right, Sam stood with Bill the pony, refusing to rest while the animal could not. Faramir stood and talked in a low voice with Sam who was nodding agreement to what the man was saying.

Gimli was surprised at Faramir. He had gradually gained the trust of everyone by occasional quiet comments and simply taking notice of their needs. Gimli did not need to do this to make friends, he was well aware that by being as loud and argumentative as possible, he could take everyone's minds away from the arduous journey. Although they did not say it, Gimli knew that everyone appreciated the distraction.

Gandalf, Aragorn and Legolas stood in the edge of the snowy path, looking up at the heights above. Although shrouded in mist, Gimli could just make out the jagged white peaks of Caradhras. Hard and sharp like knives glinting in the sun.

The snow still whirled around them, making it impossible to go on or back. Gimli was sure they would be stuck here till they froze to death. Could not Gandalf do something? Was he not a wizard? Did he not have powers? Gimli sighed and watched as Faramir passed him, picked up Frodo and wrapped him in his coat. Gimli felt a slight pang of jealousy mixed with remorse that he had not thought of it first. He cursed himself for being selfish and got up to ask whether Merry and Pippin would like to share his cloak.

"We are alright thank you Gimli," Merry replied, "Legolas has already lent us his cloak. He says elves do not feel extreme cold." Gimli let out a low growl, the Elf had outdone him again!

Faramir walked over to Gimli, his arms wrapped around his chest. "Gimli, I could do with some help. Will you come and help me explore something I saw earlier?" Glad to be of service, Gimli followed Faramir back along the path until they came to place where the snow was so high they could not tell where the path led.

"What now?" Gimli growled in frustration.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Saruman knew it was there, winding its way through the whole of the mountain, and it was there he could lay his trap. He knew he had to talk to the wizard, alone. He would make Gandalf tell him their plans, what they were doing with the weapon of the enemy. Then he could plan what to do next. But how could he bring the grey wizard here?

Ah . . . He remembered now, he had touched it when Gandalf came to Orthanc, he had taken it from him. But somehow Gandalf had it now, he had regained it. But Saruman had touched it, and with great strength he could complete his plan.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gimli watched with awe as Faramir forced his body through the snow. A terrible task it was for although Faramir was strong, he was lean and did not possess the brute strength needed for such a task. Gimli helped as best as he could but in some places the snow rose over his head. It was slow work, not only because of the thickness of the snow, they had to continually check the direction of the path for they did not want to go tumbling into the abyss. What kept them going was the thought of the others back there, freezing. Gimli had no idea what Faramir was looking for, only that it must be in the cliff to their right for the man kept shifting his eyes to the wall.

After what seemed like an hour of exhausting work, Gimli heard Faramir sigh and stop in front of what seemed to him like the normal wall.

"Well?" Gimli asked impatiently, "What was that all for."

"I . . . thought I saw something," Faramir stammered, gazing intently at the sheet of pure ice.

"You . . you THOUGHT you saw something?" Gimli shouted with incredulous horror, "you moved half a mountain of snow, dragging me behind you for something you THOUGHT you saw?" Gimli voice had risen to strained yell.

"Please Gimli, be quiet, I'm trying to think," Faramir pleaded, not taking his eyes from the wall.

"No I will not be quiet!" Gimli shouted. There was a rumbling from above as Gimli's voice echoed around the mountain. Gimli looked up fearfully and watched with motionless disbelief as a small avalanche tumbled down the mountain towards him. He could not make himself move and stood frozen to the spot as the snow crashed down on top of him.

Everything was white and freezing, he could not hear anything until a firm arm gripped him by the collar and dragged him up out of the snow.

"Foolish Dwarf!" Faramir smiled through blue lips, "I cannot believe that you caused an avalanche all by yourself! This will be an interesting tale to tell Master Legolas!"

Coughing, Gimli thought of the look on the Elf's face, forgot his pride, and began to beg Faramir not to say anything to Legolas.

"If you be quiet and let me think, I will say nothing," Faramir told him and they shook hands on it.

Faramir asked to borrow Gimli's cloak and wrapped it around his hand. To Gimli's surprise, the man stuck his hand into the rock wall to their right and when he pulled it out, it left a gaping black hole in the wall beyond. Small cracks ran from the hole and as he and Gimli tore apart the wall of ice, they revealed a small cave entrance, no bigger than a Hobbit's front door.

Gimli clapped Faramir on the back, making the man cough, "Let us get the others!" he said, "I'm sure the Hobbits will feel quite at home."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and the four Hobbits, not forgetting Bill the pony, walked along the path, following the tunnel that Faramir and Gimli had cloven between the drifts of snow. Faramir was pleased that he had been right about the cave and he led them all towards it.

"How did you know there was a cave here?" Merry asked him.

"I saw the different textures of the walls," Faramir told the young Hobbit, "Gimli and I have not looked inside yet but anything must be better that being outside in the wind and rain."

Gimli led Gandalf and the Hobbits into the cave but Sam found it hard to convince Bill to enter. In the end, Faramir had to help Sam push him in and even then, the pony would not move away from the doorway. Faramir was about to enter when he realised the Legolas had not passed inside. Faramir had not spoken many words with the Elf on account of the tention after their first meeting, and now he found it hard to know what to say.

"Are you coming?" he asked, looking back at Legolas who stood on the edge of the path, his arms wrapped around him as though he were cold.

Legolas did not answer for a moment, he only met Faramir's steady gaze with his own. Legolas' face was blank but Faramir could see something in his eyes, fear?

"I do not like caves," Legolas told him. "The stone shields the stars and the trees and I feel as though I cannot breath."

"I did not know Elves feared anything," Faramir said, trying not to sound as if he were putting Legolas down for what he had told him.

"Men are not the only ones who fear," Legolas said, his eyes dark, "But like men, Elves must confront their fears . . . and defeat them." Taking a deep breath, Legolas passed into the cave.

Faramir stood for a moment in thought, wondering at what the Elf had said. Doubt clouded his mind at his previous impressions of elves. He had heard they were proud, a proud man would not admit his fears to another. He presumed it was so with elves. Some said elves were selfish, caring only for their own kind, Legolas had given his cloak to the Hobbits ere the thought crossed his own mind. Well, he thought, perhaps some elves could be trusted.
 

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Chapter 5: The White Hand Closes

It took several minutes for Faramir's eyes to adjust to the blinding darkness of the cave. Soon he could make out the silhouettes of each member of the company. Three of the Hobbits were back against the wall, as far away from the freezing entrance as possible. Sam was still attempting to pull Bill further into the cave and Gimli was at the back, apparently collecting sticks to make a fire. Gandalf stood in the very centre of the chamber and although Faramir could not see his face, he knew the wizard was worried about something.

"What is it Mithrandir?" Faramir asked quietly, moving closer to the wizard.

"Nothing escapes your notice, does it Faramir?" Gandalf said, and Faramir could tell there was a slight smile on his face. "I can hear a voice on the air," Gandalf told him, growing solemn, "Do you hear it?"

Faramir listened intently, searching for anything out of the ordinary. He could hear the low whispers of Merry and Pippin, Gimli's heavy footsteps and the uneven breathing of Legolas behind him. Nothing unusual.

"I am afraid I hear nothing," he said, "but as we climbed I felt a strange presence, as if we were being watched."

"It is strange," the wizard said gravely, "and I do not like it. But it cannot be helped, we must try to make a fire. Merry? Pippin? Will you help Gimli collect some sticks from the cave floor."

"Do you think there will be enough to make a blaze?" Faramir asked.

"I have explored a little," Aragorn said, coming over to them. "The floor is littered with sticks both large and small."

"We've found plenty of wood," Merry said, bringing a small pile of sticks to the centre of the cave. Aragorn bent down to pile them up for the fire and a small gasp escaped his lips.

"These are no sticks," he whispered, his face pale in the faint moonlight, "these are bones!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gimli grunted in disgust as his pile of wood and bones crashed to the sandy floor and there was a cry from Pippin as he realised what he was holding. Everyone started talking at once and through the racket, Faramir felt Legolas' slender hand touch his shoulder. He drew back slightly at the touch but the Elf did not notice. His white face was turned upwards towards the roof and Faramir knew his superior elven hearing had picked up something no one else could hear.

"Quiet!" Faramir shouted and silence immediately followed. He looked around at the startled faces of his friends who were wondering what could have made him raise his voice. "Listen . . ." he whispered, turning his gaze to the roof. A great rumbling shook the cavern and the rain outside grew heavier. Thunder roared and the black clouds outside rolled like giant waves at the ocean. There was a shriek as white lightning streaked down, splitting the sky in two. A ear-splitting crack shook the air as the lightning struck the mountain above.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Darkness. There was nothing, only the haunting blackness of the cave. He heard a low moan from the Elf behind him as the realisation finally dawned. They were trapped, trapped in the dark. They had only a little food and . . . no air. Faramir could hear Legolas and Sam desperately trying to push away the boulders that blocked the entrance but obviously they were immoveable. The shouts that had echoed round the cave as the lightning struck the rock that now blocked the entrance, still rang in his ears. Everyone was beginning to panic in the terrible darkness until finally Gandalf's calm, dry voice cut through the voices.

"Do not fear," he said, confidant and reassuring, "I will light my staff so that we may see."
Faramir noticed that already a strange luminescence hung around the head of Gandalf's staff and he was about to tell him when the Wizard said the incantation for light.

"Naur an edraith ammen!"

A blinding flash filled the room and Gandalf's staff glowed red. An explosion, louder than the thunder outside, filled the cave and Faramir felt himself blown backward with the force of the spell. He could not help crying out as his back slammed into the wall and he sunk down as the darkness engulfed him
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Faramir drifted slowly back to consciousness, the pain in his head growing worse every second. He carefully lifted his hand and felt warm, sticky fluid on the back of his head where it had hit the wall. Wincing at the touch, he groaned and pulled himself into a sitting position.
The darkness that filled the cave felt like a smothering blanket, covering his mind and body. He got to his knees and began crawling along the cave wall, running his hand along its rough surface to find his way.

Suddenly, his knee struck against something and he heard a groan from below him. He bent down and cautiously reached his hand forwards. His trembling hand made contact with Legolas' shoulder and the Elf pulled away leaving Faramir's hand sticky with blood.

"Legolas?" he whispered.

"What has happened?" Legolas asked, his question interrupted by a harsh cough.

"We must check the others. You see to the Hobbits while I find Gandalf.

A thorough search of the cave found no sign of the wizard. Gandalf had gone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Dwarf grumbled as Faramir pulled up the back of his shirt and felt the bruises and cuts beneath. Aragorn had discovered a small crack in the wall that seemed to expel a fresh supply of air to the cavern and had deemed it safe to light a small fire. At first he had been concerned about the flames using their precious oxygen but with the discovery of a hole, or perhaps a tunnel, he allowed a fire with which to examen the cause of Gandalf's disappearance. By the dim, flickering light, Aragorn and Faramir studied everyone's various hurts and made sure everyone was, at the least, in not in too much pain.

Frodo sat against the wall, his head buried in his knees. Gandalf's sudden departure had seemed to affect him the most and although he had sustained no serious injuries, Faramir was worried about him.

Pippin had found it hard not to cry when Gandalf first vanished. Being one of the only ones to stay conscious due to his position during the blast, he had crawled around in the dark for what seemed like hours until he at last found Sam and Bill. Faramir watched as the two Hobbits, joined by Merry, comforted themselves by making sure Bill had not been injured.

He had watched as Araragorn examined the deep wound on Legolas' shoulder and Aragorn told him that although it looked dreadfully serious and was at the moment, painful, the Elf's superior healing ability would fix the wound within the next few days.

Faramir dropped Gimli's shirt and gave the Dwarf an encouraging pat on the back, "You'll be quite alright, Master Dwarf. You will not let a few scratches hinder you." Gimli growled and tried not to wince as Faramir's hand touched his sore back.


Faramir wandered over to the far wall where Aragorn had found the hole. He began scratching away at the rock and was surprised when it fell away easily in his hands. Wondering how the wall came to be blocked, he broke off more and more pieces of the dry stone. He narrowed his eyes as he thought he saw a pale light beyond and worked harder, his curiosity overcoming his weariness. He drew back as a large chunk came away and peered through the dust and crumbling rocks to find a small passage beyond. And lying in the centre of the sandy floor . . . Gandalf's staff. It was broken.
 

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Chapter 6 - Shadows and Nightmares

A faint glimmer of light caught Legolas' eye as he paced unceasingly across the sandy floor of the cave. It seemed to the Elf that long hours had passed in the time they had been trapped in the dark. Long hours of controlling his breathing and forcing himself to forget his fear.

As he noticed the spark of light, Legolas also heard someone mutter an exclamation. He followed his keen hearing over to where Faramir stood and looking over the tall man's shoulder, Legolas gasped when he saw Gandalf's staff lying broken in half on the floor. The wall Faramir had pulled apart marked the start of a long twisting passage that plunged into darkness ahead. Even Legolas' superior sight could not penetrate the gloom.

"What does it mean?" Merry asked from beside Legolas. He and Pippin had come over when they saw the light. The dim light was radiating from the tip of Gandalf's staff. Although the bottom half of the staff lay useless by the wall, the head still seemed as though it were alive.

Faramir bent forward to pick it up and as his skin made contact with the wood, Legolas was sure he saw a strange light spring into Faramir's eyes for a second, before they returned to their gentle grey. He was not at all sure what this meant but promised himself to keep an eye on the Man of Gondor.

"Is Gandalf . . . dead?" Pippin asked quietly, seemingly unable to comprehend the thought that the Wizard, the strongest of them, had fallen.

"It is impossible to tell what happened to Gandalf," Aragorn said, "But one thing is clear, Gandalf would have wanted us to carry on with the quest without him no matter what. The whole of Middle Earth is depending on us. Still, there is a good chance he is alive and that he will return."

Aragorn spoke with confidence, bringing hope to the hearts of Gimli and the Hobbits. But Legolas, who had known Aragorn longer than they, could see the grief and fear in the Man's eyes and saw also that Faramir's face remained grave, unchanged by Aragorn's words.

"As there is no other way," Aragorn continued, "we must take the tunnels and hope for the best."

Legolas looked at the dark tunnel that must wind around the inside of the mountain for miles, like a black snake coiling through the earth. He suppressed a shudder and picked up his bow and quiver from where they lay against the wall. He swung them over his right shoulder and winced as they jarred his injury. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he cautiously shifted his weapon to the other arm and returned the tunnel opening.

"Aragorn," Gimli said loudly, "may I lead the way through the passage. Dwarfs have a good sense of direction and I believe the stone will not confuse me as it would the Hobbits or Master Legolas here. Gimli gave Legolas a friendly whack on the back, determined to begin a new argument. Obviously the Dwarf had not noticed how quiet Legolas had been while they had been inside, for this the Elf was glad. As Gimli's strong hand thumped his back, Legolas had to bite his lip to stop himself from making a sound, but nevertheless, Gimli had seen the expression on the Elf's face and looked worried.

"Actually, Gimli," Aragorn went on, not noticing the silent incident going on between his two friends. "I was thinking Legolas should go ahead of us, for he would be the first to see or hear danger and we want to be prepared should enemies come upon us."

Gimli growled deeply.

"But I'm sure Legolas would not object to you walking after and deciding the way." Aragorn quickly added, making sure he did not hurt Gimli's feelings.

A slight nod was Legolas' only answer. He feared that if he tried to speak, the lump that fear had made in his throat would stop him from replying. He swallowed with difficulty and walked, straight-backed into the darkness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As far as he could tell, more than an hour had passed as they stumbled through the twisted, winding passages. The pain in Legolas' shoulder was almost unbearable, aggravated by the fact that he could not stretch it. His back ached, as must have Aragorn and Faramir's. The jagged roof of the passage was so low, the Elf and the two men had to duck their heads although the Hobbits and Gimli could pass with ease.

It had been a struggle to convince Bill to follow them into the long dark of the tunnels and Sam was still finding it hard to lead the pony. A short while ago, they had stopped for a short rest and some food.

Legolas had asked Faramir if he could take a look at the base of Gandalf's staff which the man still carried. Faramir handed it over rather reluctantly and Legolas was disappointed that the man still did not trust him. He turned the smooth wood over in his thin hands, running his fingers over the few impurities in the wood and a strange idea came to him.

"Faramir?" he asked, "would I be able to keep this?"

"What would you do with it?" Faramir asked sharply, then his brow creased in deep confusion and worry. "I am sorry," he said, "I did not . . . of course you may keep it. The staff is useless now it is broken." The man spoke with finality but Legolas noticed he still held onto his half of the staff tightly.

Time passed slowly in the tunnels, and even for an Elf who had already lived some 3000 years, it seemed as though they had been toiling for days and had not moved at all.

Luckily there had not been too many divisions in the path and when the occasional choice had to be made, it was always easy to tell which was the main path.

Legolas half-listened to Aragorn's conversation with Faramir to take his mind off the horrible blackness.

"Something other than us has travelled this path in the last few days." Aragorn said, his voice quieter than a whisper so that he would not alarm the Hobbits. Legolas' sharp hearing managed to pick up most of the conversation.

Faramir agreed with Aragorn, like the heir of Isilder, he was a Ranger and could see the signs on the ground that told him others had been here. Legolas looked down at the ground and noticed that although the small leafy fungus that grew on the floor beside the walls, the moss in the centre of the path had been crushed by what looked like heavy boots.

Legolas looked up and stopped abruptly, causing Merry and Pippin to crash into him.

"Legolas! What have you stopped for? I almost fell over!"

"Aye, come on, Elf! What's the meaning of it?" Gimli asked with an angry voice.

"Sshhh . . . Listen, I heard something," Legolas whispered, trying to get them all to be quiet.

Everyone listened and gradually they began to hear what the Elf told them of. It sounded as if a group of creatures were either having a fight, or a roudy meal. None could tell which for sometimes the hideous shouts sounded angry and sometimes loud evil laughs could be heard.

"Where are they?" Gimli asked Aragorn, "in front or behind?"

Aragorn listened for a moment longer, his eyes narrowed. "I cannot tell," he said at last, "but I do not think they are in the tunnel ahead. We should move foreward quietly and try to avoid whatever they are."

So it was that Legolas found himself leading again, his soft shoes making no sound on the rocky floor. At every footfall of Gimli's heavy boots, Legolas cringed and expected enemies to fly around the corner. The sounds were louder now and it seemed as if they were surrounded by the loud voices.

Legolas felt the floor of the tunnel change and grow less rocky. He looked down but could not see the texture of the ground. After a few steps he turned around to warn the others about the change of terrain. Merry and Pippin had already stepped, almost slipping over, onto the smooth floor and Legolas opened his mouth to warn Gimli but it was too late.

At the fall of Gimli's foot on the new floor, Legolas felt a tremor beneath him and looked down to see a dark crack split the smooth ground. He looked up and saw Aragorn grab Gimli and pull him backwards out of danger. All at once Pippin disappeared, screaming as he fell through the thin layer of clay that was the floor. Legolas reached out for Merry but before they could leap to safety, the ground failed under their feet and they plunged into the blackness below.
 

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Chapter 7 - Deep Under the Earth

Legolas felt the cold air rush past as he fell down the vertical shaft. The thin tunnel that he and Merry were falling through was cluttered with dust, webs and other things Legolas did not even want to think of. He felt horrible things brush his face and raised his hands to cover his head, only to have an outcropping of stone strike his arm as he passed.

Merry was yelling while he kept a firm grip on Legolas' arm. Together they plummeted down, until the tunnel ended and the Elf and the Hobbit were thrown into the centre of a dimly lit chamber. Legolas landed on his knees of the hard stone floor, jarring his body even more when Merry landed on top of him. The Hobbit rolled off and while Legolas tried to regain his breath, he thought he heard Pippin whining.

At the noise, Legolas came back to his senses quickly and first noticing the red, flickering light that bathed the cave in eerie light and the unbearable stench that seemed to be all about him, he feared the worst. He dragged himself to a kneeling position and raised his head. The tips of more than ten swords rested less than an inch from his face, their Goblin owners grinning twisted, mutated smiles down upon him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"NO! Gimli stop!" Aragorn was shouting as the Dwarf struggled with all his might to follow the Elf and the Hobbits into the crevasse. "What good will it do? We need you here Gimli!"

Gimli heard the words but was not listening. His only thoughts were for his friends, who, without him, would never have fallen.

"Let me be, Aragorn!" he roared, "I must help! I am to blame!"

"Stupid Dwarf!" Aragorn shouted, trying to get a firm grip on his flailing arms. "Faramir, help me!"

Gimli knew that once they both had a hold on him, he would not get away so he made one last desperate effort. He relaxed for a moment, letting Aragorn think he had won, then quick as a Dwarf could be, he slammed his foot down onto Aragorn's toe and wrenched himself out of the man's grip. With a quick look back, he cast himself into the crevasse.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The terrible stench of the Goblins made Legolas feel as though he would be ill. Not for the first time in the Elven prince's life he felt the meaning of true fear. He was afraid. Afraid that he would never escape the darkness, never see the stars again. Afraid for the Hobbits who lay shivering beside him, expecting him to protect them. Afraid he would fail them. The Goblins were the most hideous things he had ever laid eyes on, they went against all he lived for, his very being.

Several of the smaller Goblins stepped back now that they knew the newcomers were not going to attack them. One of the larger Goblins remained before him, looking down at the Elf with disgust. Legolas could see that while their darkness affected him, the light he held inside seemed to affect the Goblins also.

Only one sword was close to him now and Legolas began to think of escape. Perhaps if he could get this Goblin's sword and somehow fight his way to the chamber entrance, he and the Hobbits could run through the tunnels until they met up with the rest of the Fellowship. It was a desperate plan, he knew, but some plan was better than no plan. He took a shuddering breath and waited for the right moment.

The large Goblin lent closer to the Elf to get a better look at him and his sword moved a few inches back. Legolas took his chance. He drew the long white knife he carried in his boot and swung it upwards, knocking the sword from the surprised Goblin's grasp. He caught the hilt of the heavy sword without too much difficulty and swung it in a wide arch. The large Goblin was slow in response and although he jumped backwards, the Elf's sword slashed a deep cut across its horrible face, drawing black blood. Other Goblins rushed at the Elf, angry that he had dared to wound their leader and that anyone would try to fight them.

Although Legolas found the blade heavy and cumbersome, he managed to kill more than five of the smaller Goblins and wound two others. He made sure the Hobbits were behind him as he fought, determined to escape from the dark. The dark blood of the Goblins coated his sword and his clothes had black streaks all over them.

A terrifying yell sounded from somewhere above and Legolas recognised the voice. Gimli! Before he could think of moving, the heavy Dwarf crashed down on top of him. His shoulder screamed with the impact and when the Dwarf was pulled off him, he found it was barely moveable.
Rough hands grabbed the Elf by the shoulders and pulled him upright. Legolas tried hard not to cry out as the Goblin's callused hand gripped his painful shoulder. Blood was trickling down his face and his mind was swimming.

Gimli was being held beside him, as were the Hobbits. The Dwarf was struggling violently to be free of the hands that held him and Legolas could tell the Goblins were getting impatient with him.

"No!" Pippin shouted as one of the Goblin's fists slammed into Gimli's chest. The Dwarf slumped forewords and stopped struggling. Legolas turned his head away in contempt and looked to the Hobbits beside him. Merry's face was deathly pale and Legolas could see Pippin was close to tears.

Legolas recoiled violently as the large Goblin he had injured brought his face close to the Elf's. Unable to pull away because of the Goblins holding his arms, Legolas turned his face away from the hideous creature and it's repulsive breath. The Goblin reached out and grabbed the Elf's golden hair, pulling it back so Legolas had to look into the creature's eyes.

Black blood still seeped from the wound the Elf had made in the Goblin's face and an angry blaze smouldered in its eyes.

"You are a very stupid Elf," the Goblin growled in common speach. "You'll be punished for attacking us." He gestured to the slash on his cheek and raised his arm to strike the Elf.

"You are not to touch the prisoners!" Another voice Legolas had not heard sounded from behind the Goblin. It grumpily lowered its arm but did not take it's eyes from the Elf.

It was an Orc that had spoken from behind and when Legolas' eyes fell upon the newcomer, a chill swept through his body.

Unlike all the other Goblins who were quite short, bow-legged and long armed, the new Orc seemed to be of a different breed. Tall, strong and suited more for war than crawling around in caves, it seemed. What was worse was that he knew Orcs had originaly been elves. Legolas was glad the Hobbits did not know this.

"These are not just things for you beasts to play with! They are the property of my Master!" The tall Orc towered over the Goblin Leader as he spoke.

"We are not the property of anyone!" Gimli shouted indignantly and was silenced by a blow to the head from a smaller Goblin.

"Did you not hear me?" the Orc challenged the Goblin that had struck Gimli. Before the slow-witted Goblin could react, the Orc's sword flashed from its sheath and the small Goblin's body fell to a bloody heap on the cave floor.

Legolas felt sick with horror as he gazed at the body at Gimli's feet.

The Orc turned back to the large Goblin, "Let that be a warning to you," he said, motioning for the Goblins to gather around him. "If you wish to defy my Lord you will face his wrath!" He could wipe out your tiny band without raising his hand. You will keep the prisoners until we get the others. If any harm comes to them I will hold you personally responsible."

"Don't tell me more of these rats are crawling around in our caves?"

"Orders are, eight are to be taken. Dwarf, Elf, four of these," he said, grabbing Pippin and showing his face to the twelve or so Goblins receiving their orders, "and two men. Find the men and two of the little 'uns and you will be compensated for your efforts. Lord Saruman will not fail to reward, or forget to punish those who fail in their trust."

Saruman. The name struck Legolas' heart like a knife as he thought of what would happen if the ring fell into his hands. Gandalf had warned them of the danger . . . But perhaps Gandalf had underestimated Saruman. Perhaps Saruman had been watching them all along, even now . . .

Legolas was startled out of his train of thought as the Leader of the Goblins, the one he had injured, wrenched his bow from his back, tearing at his wound. Legolas watched helplessly as the Goblins tried to grapple Gimli's axe from the Dwarf's stone-like grip.

He was forced to his knees as a Goblin tied his hands tightly behind his back with strong cord. The four of them were them dragged out of the main chamber and away from the taunting Goblins and the terrifying Orc. The Hobbits were carried under the arms of two Goblins, and they were all taken along a short passage and into a smaller room of stone.

Gimli and Legolas were thrown onto the floor with the Hobbits following soon after. The room was dark and the only light came from a dim red torch on the stony wall. Legolas felt his heart clench painfully as the Goblins bound his feet. But his pride overwhelmed his fear of the dark and remained silent unlike Gimli, who thrashed about wildly until the Goblins were finished.

The Goblins left the room, laughing with harsh voices, and Legolas raised his head to see the doorway. A noise like grinding stone reached his ears and his eyes widened in horror as the light from the passage began to diminish. The giant boulder was rolled across the circular entrance like the moon passing the sun in a eclipse. The darkness brought despair to the four inside the tomb-like room and Legolas only hope was that Aragorn would be wise enough to take the ring as far from the caves as he could.
 

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Chapter 8 - The Decision

Sam's gentle hazel eyes peered into the darkness. His breathing was uneven and though it had been more than an hour since their friends had fallen through the hole in the tunnel, he could still feel salty tears in the corners of his eyes. He shifted his position slightly as the rocky wall stuck into his back. Frodo stirred slightly in his troubled sleep, his head resting on Sam's shoulder.

Sam knew the disaster had been harder on Frodo than himself because of the responsibility he felt towards his cousins. Sam had tried to tell him that if they had left the young Took and Brandybuck at Rivendell, the two young Hobbits would have followed on their own anyway, but Frodo had not listened to him.

Aragorn sat opposite from the two Hobbits, his head resting on his hands and his grey eyes closed. Sam knew he was not asleep and was trying desperately to decide what was best to do next. Responsibility weighed heavily on him also, as the leader of the company since Gandalf's sudden departure Sam could see Aragorn blamed himself for what had happened.

Sam turned his head slightly and looked at the man on his other side. In the dark, if he had not known them intimatly, Sam would have been hard pressed to tell Aragorn and Faramir apart. Both had deep eyes in which Sam always could see both care and wisdom and dark hair that reached past their shoulders. Both were of around the same height and build and to one who did not know them, they could have been considered brothers.

Sam listened to Faramir's quiet, regular breathing and relaxed slightly. The man was seated against the wall like himself, his head tilted back as he stared blankly at the ceiling. Although at first Sam had thought Faramir too quiet and secretive for his liking, always watching out for his master as usual, Sam now realised that it had just taken the man a while to judge the people around him so he could understand them better. This way of getting to know people was proven wise as now Faramir could talk with anyone in the company with ease, except perhaps Legolas to whom he did not seem to know what to say. He had discovered everyone's favourite topics of conversation and was able to make them relax.

Sam noticed Faramir had treated Gandalf differently from the rest, often content to sit quietly with him as the old wizard smoked his pipe. He did not seem to need to question Gandalf as he did with Merry and Pippin, telling them endless exciting stories. He did not tease him as he did with Gimli and did not even talk about things they had in common which Sam was quite aware Faramir did with himself. It was as though they shared a silent understanding.

Faramir looked in Sam's direction and offered a reassuring smile. "How is Frodo?" he asked, gazing at the sleeping Hobbit.

"He's just plain tired out," Sam told him, "this business, well . . . it's taken its toll if you take my meaning, Sir."

"And yourself, Master Samwise? How are you?" Sam was surprised. He had not thought about himself at all, let alone thought anyone else would care.

"Well, Sir, what doesn't kill you can only make you stronger, as the Gaffer would say. Don't you worry yourself about me, though I'm a bit worried about Bill. How's he goin' to get over that great hole in the ground?" Faramir did not answer and Sam could see he was holding something back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Faramir could not bear to tell Sam they would have to leave Bill if they crossed the crevasse. Luckily at that moment Aragorn raised his strong care worn face, his dark sunken eyes pools of worry and remorse.

"As I see it," he said slowly, "we have three options. First, to attempt to jump the crevasse, second, to prepare ourselves for battle follow our friends into the darkness below, or third to turn back and hope to find another way. In my mind all choices seem ill, we jump and some of us may fall, we fall and risk bringing the ring into danger, we go back and waste time that could mean the lives of our friends, not even considering the fact there may not be another way."

"Perhaps we should take a vote," Sam suggested, "that way you won't have to decide on your own." Aragorn seemed grateful for the suggestion and after a moment's thought, he agreed.

"Should you wake Frodo?" Faramir asked Sam.

"He is in no fit condition to be worrying, perhaps we should let him rest and decide without him. Just the three of us."

"Alright Sam," Aragorn assented wearily, "what do you think?"

"Well, as Bill could never make the jump, nor could he follow us down the crevasse, I vote we turn back. I can't leave him to be eaten by the horrible creatures who live in the caves!"

Aragorn nodded, unsurprised. "I'm sorry Sam, but in my opinion it would be unwise to seek another path. Our friends may be in dreadful danger and time is valuable. I believe Bill would not wish us to sacrifice the lives of our friends' in his place."

Aragorn's face was pained when he saw Sam cringing at his words. Sam swallowed as if there was a lump in his throat and failed to speak. Faramir knew he was asking himself how could he ever just leave Bill in the dark after all they had been through together? His tearful brown eyes met Faramir's grey ones, pathetic hope reflected into the man's eyes.

"What is it to be, Faramir? I fear the choice is yours, to jump or turn back." Aragorn said quietly.

The realisation that it was his decision alone had shaken him to the core and now there was a terrible battle raging inside Faramir's mind. He tried to ignore the Hobbit's desperate eyes that pleaded with him, tried to forget the other eyes watching him, those of Aragorn, his friend, his King. His heart was wrenched in two ways at once and taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and spoke, "I'm sorry . . . my Lord . . . I must agree with Sam . . ." the title came awkwardly as never before had he called Aragorn by anything other than his name. He wanted to be sure Aragron knew he had his respect and loyalty, it was so hard to go against his choice.

In less than a second, Aragorn's heavy hand was on his shoulder, "my friend, you did what your heart told you was right. This you must not regret for I would not wish it. Then it is decided, we will turn back and seek another way."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A black webbed hand felt around in the blackness, his nose searching for a scent, his body searching for the feeling that drove him on. Perhaps it was an unconscious attraction, perhaps the dark emaciated creature did not know what he sought. Ignorant or otherwise, he followed his unnatural sense around the circular cave until he found something on the wall. A dark liquid covered a sharp out cropping of rock. He sniffed it and it brought back terrifying memories of the tall folk, their shining eyes piecing him, their horrible ropes and prisons that had held him. He sat shivering in the dark for some minutes, then reached out and touched the blood. He screeched as the dark liquid burned his skin.

"cursses it! Nassty Elveses blood . . " The smell was familiar, he knew the Elf whose blood now burned his black fingers. Other smells he knew as well, the grey man who had caught him by the dead marshes years and years ago. "We hatess them all we do . ." the creature hissed, a deep hate growing with his fear. He crept towards the tunnel opening and crept along the twisted passages.
 

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Chapter 9 - Retribution

Aragorn led the way back along the lightless tunnel. An hour of walking and still they had not seen any sign of a side passage. Aragorn wished he had paid more attention to their progress last time for he could not remember how far back it was. This was what he had feared, that it would take them so long to reach another path that they would be too late to save their friends. Even now, he thought, it might be too late.

Sam had asked him only once whether they would find Merry and Pippin. Aragorn could not make himself lie to the Hobbit but he had replied that there was hope, however thin.

Gandalf had gone. Disappeared or taken. It had been up to Aragorn to lead the company and he had failed. First Legolas and the Hobbits, then not even being able to save Gimli. From the shouts and sounds of battle they had heard, chances were slim they were even alive. Yes, it was he who had failed.

Frodo was walking, but only barely. He stumbled along in the dark, like one who had never slept. Gandalf's disappearance had impacted deeply on the young Hobbit as it had on Aragorn himself, but the latest disaster had really drawn Frodo's last strength. Sam was doing his best to give Frodo hope with constant talk of their home in the west. Faramir seemed also to be walking in a dream. He listened to Sam's stories with apparent interest yet his brow remained creased with worry. Aragorn regretted putting him in the position of having to choose between his two friends, but in the end he realised Faramir's choice was probably wisest. With Frodo as he was and all of them fatigued with worry and long nights under the earth, they could not have made the jump. Aragorn knew now that he had been too concerned with his other friends' safety to consider the position properly.

"At last!" he sighed as they reached the split in the path, "we are here!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The passage plunged further down taking the four travellers down to ground level although they were still trapped within the caves. The passage had grown uncomfortably thin during the decent and the air was hot and sticky. Aragorn wondered what could have caused the temperature change but did not have time to ponder as the tunnel suddenly widened into a small chamber. Three passages branched from the chamber; the one they had come from, one to their left and one straight ahead. At once Aragorn smelt the foul stench of Goblins and knew the left passage must lead to their caves.

Faramir was exploring the other passage and called out to them, "Aragorn! Fresh air! Can you not smell it? We have come to the end of the darkness."

Aragorn could not feel the joy the others did at the end of the tunnels. He knew now was the time of choice.

"Faramir," he said gravely, and the other's relief quickly faded at the sight of Aragorn's face. "You will take Frodo and Sam out of the caves and as far from here as you can by nightfall. I leave the choice to you whether you take the Gap of Rohan or the Mines."

Faramir's eyes narrowed in confusion and suspicion, "Aragorn, what do you mean? What are you going to do?" his voice wavered slightly as he spoke.

"Faramir, take the Hobbits and leave! The ring cannot be taken into danger, I entrust the safety of the Ringbearer to you. Wait no longer than an hour at the mouth of the tunnel for us, if we do not come . . . you must go alone."

Faramir shook his head in disbelief, "we cannot leave you to fight the Goblins alone!"

"You need our help!" Sam insisted.

"I do what I must! Now go!" Aragorn's voice was thick with desperation.

"No!" Faramir raised his voice so it echoed around the chamber. "What good will it do if you find our friends only to die with them?"

"They were my responsibility, don't you see that?" Aragorn's voice rose above his usual calm exterior and the fear and guilt for his friends was clearly visible in his grey eyes.

Faramir approached him slowly, "None of this was your fault, Aragorn," he said quietly. "You cannot blame yourself for something you could not control." He placed his hand on the man's shoulder and Aragorn let the tenseness in his muscles relax slightly. "The quest must come first, this you know in your heart."

Aragorn did not understand what he meant until Faramir turned towards the left passage.

"We will meet again Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Wait but a little while for our return. Sam? Will you join me?"

"Faramir! No . . " Aragorn was torn between what he knew was right and his feeling that he should be the one to find the others. Sam was also struggling to decide which way to go. Should he follow his Master or help rescue his friends? Tears welled up in his eyes at the thought he would have to leave someone behind. A sob escaped his lips as he tore himself from Frodo's side, "Look after Mr Frodo for me, won't you Bill?" he sobbed, giving Bill an affectionate rub behind the ears.

Aragorn placed his hand on Faramir's arm, "You do not have to do this," he said, looking hard into Faramir's eyes for any sign of resentment, but he found none.

"If I do not return . . . And when you come to Minis Tirith . . " Faramir began.

"When?" Aragorn smiled sadly.

"When you come to the White City - Will you tell my father . . . will you tell him . ."

"Do not fear," Aragorn assured him, "you shall return to your city."

Aragorn pressed his hand over his mouth as Sam and Faramir disappeared into the tunnel. Silent tears flowed down Frodo's calm face as they turned and headed for the fresh air.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Faramir's eyes, now well adjusted to the dark, spotted a looming shape ahead of them in the passage. He grabbed Sam and pulled the Hobbit to the floor, stifling his cry with a gentle hand over his mouth. Sam nodded and they both crept forward silently. Carefully drawing a knife from his belt, Faramir closed the distance between him and the Goblin in less than a moment. One of his hands covered the creature's mouth and shoved it back into the rocky wall, Faramir grimaced as he stabbed his knife into its chest and felt the Goblin grow limp under his hold. He let the body slip to the ground and looked down at it with distain and regret. A merciful death, he tried to tell himself. He was jerked out of his thoughts when Sam grabbed his hand and tried to lead him onward.

Faramir resisted effortlessly and bent down to whisper his new idea to a horrified Sam.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Pippin breathed in the thick air with disgust. As the entrance to the small room was blocked, no fresh air could reach those inside and with the smell of Goblins infecting everything every breath he took made the Hobbit feel ill.

He had squirmed, pulled and twisted his hands until they were red and sore, but nothing could loosen the cords.

At first Gimli had tried to make conversation, but finding the other three deep in their own thoughts he had quickly given up. An uncomfortable silence filled the cave and Pippin was almost glad when he heard a noise outside. A sound of rock scraping against rock reached his ears and Pippin hoped the Goblins were bringing food and drink. The boulder moved slowly, almost carefully and a thin beam of light shone into the black room.

The Goblin's bent form squeezed through the gap and his squinted eyes looked about the room. It was the leader of the Goblins who had threatened the Elf earlier. Merry and Legolas' bodies were caught in the light while he and Gimli remained hidden. Pippin was relieved he could not be seen for he could see that while the Goblin had not brought food, something else was in its hand, something that flickered in the light from the open door, metallic and shiny. The light caught the edge of the blade and the Goblin advanced further into the cave.

"He's got a knife!" Pippin yelled in his shrill voice, trying to warn the others.

"Shut your mouth, little rat," the Goblin growled, "or you'll be next."

Pippin fell quiet and watched as the Goblin move towards Legolas who was the closest to the door.

"No one makes me look a fool before my men," he said, hatred and the need for revenge burning in his eyes.

"You can't kill him!" Merry shouted, stalling the Goblin's hand, "the Orc said you can't hurt us."

The Goblin hissed at the mention of the Orc, then a cruel smile spread across his ugly face. "Stupid runt! I'm not brainless like other Goblin's, I have a plan. I'll Kill the Elf and put the knife in his hand. No one will suspect me." The look of pride on the Goblin's face was as pathetic as it was terrifying.

He knelt down by Legolas' side and slowly raised the knife, "scream an' I'll kill your friends too," he growled. Legolas tried to pull away but the Goblin's heavy hand on his injured shoulder stopped him from moving.

"NO! Stop, you great ugly beast! Untie me and I'll cut every limb from your body!" Gimli's distractions were useless and the knife plunged downwards . . .

Over Gimli and Merry's desperate shouting Pippin heard the sound. The knife fell from the Gobblin's hand and the bloody arrowhead could be seen protruding from the front of its neck. The great body toppled forwards onto the Elf and behind it Pippin could now see the Goblin who had fired the arrow. At first he thought it must have been an orc for its limbs were straight but it wore Goblin armor. It's bow did not seem like a Goblin's and the sword at its belt was silver, thin and strong.

The Goblin rushed into the room, and behind it was Sam! Pippin was overjoyed to see him and called him over at once. The new Goblin dragged the dead body away from the Elf and immediately dropped to its knees at Legolas' side. The Goblin drew a small knife from its belt and reached towards the Elf. Legolas tried to pull away and the Goblin faltered for a moment before reaching up and throwing off his helmet.

"Faramir!" Legolas breathed. Faramir's gentle grey eyes shone from out of the muddy disguise that hid his identity.

"Foolish man!" Gimli's voice shouted, "get over here this minute and get me out of this undignified position!"

"A moment if you please, Master Dwarf," Faramir smiled to himself as he cut through the ropes that held Legolas' arms behind his back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"How do we get out of here?" Merry asked when they were all on their feet once more.

"If we go quickly and quietly there is a chance we will be able to slip out without being noticed," Faramir said, "but there must be two or three guards still in the area for they showed us to your prison when I pretended to have captured Sam."

"Be on your guard everyone," Gimli growled, "we will not be caught unawares a second time."

"We would not have been caught once if you had not foolishly thrown yourself down the tunnel," Legolas smiled. Merry had offered a shoulder for him to lean on and to make the Hobbit feel useful, not to mention the support he needed, he had accepted.

Gimli scowled in frustration at the annoying Elf and set his eyes to the passage ahead. Before they realised what was happening, Goblin arrows were striking the rock walls around them and the battle had begun!
 

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Chapter10 - Daylight

"Behind me! All of you!" Faramir shouted, grabbing Pippin by the shoulder and yanking him backwards. He turned back to the enemy and the arrows that were badly aimed at the six members of the fellowship. Shielding his friends with his body, he drew his own bow and fitted an arrow, well aware that he was the only one armed. The first Goblin that appeared around the corner was felled by an arrow to the throat before it had time to raise its axe.

Faramir heard a gruff exclamation from behind him before Gimli barged past him, shoving him into the wall.

"Gimli! What-?"

"My axe!" the Dwarf shouted, "I will not leave without it!"

Faramir heard a muttering of Elvish behind him and before he knew it Legolas was pushing past him as well.

"Get back here you foolish Dwarf! What do you think you're doing?" Legolas' voice was strong but Faramir noticed the Elf was swaying on his feet as he pulled himself along the wall towards Gimli who had disappeared around the corner.

Faramir clenched his teeth in frustration at the two friends, matching each other in their stubbornness they were managing to put the quest in grave danger.

He slung his bow on his back and drew his long tapered sword, "stay here," he said to Sam, indicating for him to tell the others.

Before Legolas had reached the corner, Gimli appeared at the bend in the path, grinning broadly and holding his axe in one hand and Legolas' bow and quiver in the other.

"No one touches the axe of Gimli the Dwarf!" he declared proudly, before a Goblin arrow almost took his head off.

"Make haste!" Faramir yelled, trying to get the Dwarf to understand the graveness of the situation.

Gimli strode forwards, thrusting the bow at Legolas who was leaning against the wall. The Elf's hand faltered and the bow crashed to the ground. Faramir could wait no longer, he rushed forwards, scooped up the bow in one hand and thrust his other under Legolas' uninjured arm. He half supported, half dragged the Elf away from an astonished Gimli who ran after them on his short legs.

To Faramir it seemed like hours til they reached the circular room and started down the passage to the fresh air.

"Why are we running?" Gimli yelled, outraged. "Those creatures need to be taught a hard lesson for what they did to us! Look at the Elf, they must pay!"

"Gimli, please-" Faramir panted. He was finding it extremely difficult running while holding the Elf. Legolas had lost a lot of blood and was barely conscious. Although he was light, Faramir found it awkward and could do without Gimli's constant need for revenge. He was surprised when Gimli, showing his true character, carefully grabbed the Elf's right side and helped Faramir to drag him forwards.

The circle of light grew closer and closer. The Hobbits reached the exit and disappeared into the pink sunlight. The evening light exploded around him as Faramir emerged from the dark tunnels. He closed his eyes against it and felt someone take Legolas' weight. Faramir fell to his knees in exhaustion and breathed the cool fresh air.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and someone helped to his feet. Squinting in the brightness, Faramir's eyes fell upon Aragorn's calm face.

"You have done well, my friend," Aragorn said, admiration clear on his face. "Yet there is still more to be done. The enemy has not been destroyed and with Legolas injured, there are but three of us."

"Do not forget us!" Pippin said, waving the small sword Gimli had retrieved for him.

"We may be small," Merry said, "but we may be of some help."

Aragorn smiled at Faramir, marvelling at the Hobbits' bravery. "So be it."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Three bodies lay on the grass outside the tunnel mouth, too far away for the Goblins to tell whether they were alive or dead. They advanced, noting one body as an Elf and two as the small, half-men creatures. Unsure at first, the Goblins crept slowly out into the darkening twilight towards the figures on the grass.

A ear-bursting yell broke the quiet of the evening and a flock of dark birds erupted into the sky from their resting place amongst the trees. Two Goblins were crushed under the weight of the Dwarf who had jumped them from the rocks behind and several more fell with arrows to their hearts. Faramir noticed he only had two arrows left in his quiver and after firing one at a newly arrived Goblin he drew he sword and jumped down from the rocks.

He and Aragorn fought side by side for a time, driving the Goblins backwards towards their darkness. Faramir was amazed at the skill with which Aragorn fought. He had held high expectations for the man who was to be the future King of Gondor, but the real thing exceeded even his imagination. Andúril swept through the air before them, a deadly weapon that acted both as an attack and a defence, preventing any enemy coming close to the one who wielded it.

The way Gimli used his axe also amazed Faramir and he began to realise the reason for Gimli's love of battle. The energy the Dwarf seemed to suddenly posses was astounding after the exertion of their escape. But the thing Faramir would never understand was the way Gimli could kill seemingly without remorse. How anyone could not feel guilty for taking a life was a mystery to Faramir. He had fought many battles and although he pushed the guilt far back into his mind, the crushing remorse from the nececity to take lives remained.

As he fought, Faramir's bright sword darted skilfully between enemies, making sure that those he killed were killed quickly and painlessly. But all to soon fatigue began to weigh down on him and he felt the burden of too many sleepless nights finally taking their toll.

Less than fifteen Goblins remained standing and Pippin and Merry began checking each fallen body for signs of life. Frodo and Sam still lay by Legolas, pretending to be dead, ready if any of the Goblins broke though and decided to make sure if the Hobbits and Elf were really dead. Before they had prepared for the attack on the Goblins, Aragorn had done what he could for Legolas' shoulder but he was weak from loss of blood and would take a few days to fully recover.

Faramir tried to keep an eye on the Elf and the Hobbits, staring through the mass of black Goblins. Although he and Aragorn tried to force their enemy between themselves and the cave they were gradually pushed back by the superior strength and the sheer weight in numbers of the enemy. Gimli and Aragorn were soon trapped between the cave and the enemy, unable to provide any help to their friends on the ground.

Faramir tried to force his way through the line of Goblins to give Gimli and Aragorn a break in which to turn the battle around. He found himself confronted with a giant Goblin who held its rusty simitar in readiness before him. Faramir dodged the first blow with an effort but his enemy was quicker than he had given it credit for. Another lethal swipe with the simitar and Faramir only had time to stumble backwards, falling to the ground. The Goblin raised its weapon and Faramir struggled to his feet. He raised his sword to parry the attack and his arm jolted as the heavy weapon struck with the crash of steel against steel.

The Goblin struck at him over and over, forcing him backwards. His arm trembled as, with each terrible blow he struggled to avert the attack. The Goblin brought a last crushing blow down upon him and finally Faramir's arm gave way and the sword flew from his hand. He was knocked backward with the impact fell on his back, unable to reach his sword. The Goblin raised the simitar above its head and Faramir's eyes fixed on the weapon that would destroy him.

His arm moved up almost without conscious thought, his hand closed around the shaft of his last arrow and snatching it from his quiver he lunged forwards, plunging the sharp metal into the Goblin's chest. It seemed as if the world were in slow motion as Faramir's trembling hand pushed the last arrow into the heart of the enemy.

He wrenched out the arrow and scrambled out of the way as the Goblin toppled forwards. He lay on the grass for a moment, breathing and taking in the battle. The Goblins were closing in on Aragorn and Gimli who seemed to have been wounded. Faramir saw a great gash on the Dwarf's leg and began climbing to his feet.

Pippin was bending over one of the largest of the Goblins, checking to see if the creature was alive. The Goblin had managed to get disturbingly close to the three on the ground and Faramir did not remember killing him. Perhaps Aragorn had, he thought, stumbling wearily to where the others were fighting. No, it could not have been Aragorn, he never moved from . . .

"Pippin!" Faramir yelled, praying he was wrong, "Pippin, run!"

Merry looked up at him, startled. He turned back to talk to Pippin when Faramir saw his face change from confusion to horror.

The giant Goblin's yellow eyes flashed open and his great hand wrapped around Pippin's throat. The look of terror on the Hobbit's face burned in Faramir's heart. If only he had realised more quickly! How could he have made such a terrible mistake?

The look on the Goblin's face clearly expressed its threat.

Faramir swallowed with difficulty, "Aragorn! Gimli! Put down your swords!"

He heard a grumble of anger from the Dwarf, followed by a grunt of exclamation at the sight of Pippin. The Hobbit was being held a long way from the ground and his face was beginning to turn blue. Merry beat against the Goblin's leg and pleaded with it to leave Pippin alone, which only made the creature laugh and kick Merry away.

Faramir never took his eyes of Pippin but he knew the others had dropped their weapons because the sound of battle had ceased. He shook his head in disbelief as one of the Goblins grabbed his arms and pulled him back towards Aragorn and Gimli. It wasn't supposed to be like this! he thought, this could not be how it all ended! In his mind he cried out for Gandalf, his brother, anyone . . . The fate of Middle Earth had been placed in their hands and they had failed.

"Take them inside," the Goblin growled, "tomorrow we will go to Isengard."

"Saruman . . ." Faramir heard Aragorn mutter beside him. Pippin had stopped struggling in the Goblin's grasp and was slipping into unconsciousness.

"Put him down or you'll kill him!" Gimli's voice rose in anger over his little friend being hurt. The Goblin laughed and shook the poor Hobbit, causing Merry to shout and Gimli to attempt punching the Goblins.

Faramir closed his eyes for a moment, desperately trying to think of a way out of the situation. A cry from Merry brought his eyes darting open and he looked just in time to see Pippin fall from the Goblin's hand and roll on the ground. Merry grabbed the almost unconscious Hobbit and dragged him away from the Giant Goblin. A dark liquid suddenly fell from the creature's mouth and nose and it swayed, turning its head to look behind. It toppled forwards, the Elven arrow still embedded in its lung.
 

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