-"You are free."-

Fourteen – The Teachings of Gollum and Sméagol

In the aftermath of the combat at Amon Hen, the Fellowship pressed eastwards. Aragorn pushed the boats towards the Falls of Rauros after they had been unloaded, where they tumbled over into oblivion and were lost to any servants of the enemy who may have otherwise found them. Now, the quest would continue on foot.

Gimli had earlier protested the decision to make for Emyn Muil, which he called an impassable labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks, but Aragorn seemed to know a way through the maze from years past, so that went some way to appeasing the Dwarf. In any case, Saphira could guide them from the air if they became lost, although the place was blanketed in a thick layer of fog that gave even her some trouble with navigation.

On the other hand, what did not appease Eragon was the knowledge that they would have to pass by the Nindalf after traversing the crags. The Battle of Dagorlad had taken place in the nearby Dead Marshes and even the name of the place gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Moria had been bad enough, but what little he knew of this place was not pleasant. Saphira informed him that the path was relatively flat after exiting Emyn Muil and should be easier to navigate, but thinking of the Dead Marshes made his skin crawl.

Something else was bothering him on top of this unease. In his heart, Eragon knew that they were running a race against time. If Sauron struck at Gondor, or Saruman at Rohan, they would not be there to help. He only hoped that his words to Gandalf in Moria would inspire the wizard to take action, if indeed he was still alive.

"We cannot think that way now," Saphira reminded him. "If we fail, it will not matter where the attack comes from, for the enemy will be victorious either way. This is a risk that we must take, unless you would have us fly to Edoras and then to Minas Tirith and gamble that you can convince them to take up arms. That would also be in contradiction to our oaths, for we would have to leave the Fellowship behind."

"I know," Eragon said. "I feel that Saruman's threat has been lessened, if not neutralised. Sauron is another matter entirely, so the sooner we destroy the Ring, the better. We stay on this course together; agreed?"

"We are as one."

True to form, Merry and Pippin had not had their spirits dampened by the battle. They had felt great pain when Gandalf was taken from them, but now they were back to normal and cracked jokes for the sake of all. Eragon smiled as he heard them, glad that Gandalf and Elrond had been right about the pair of them. They had kept quiet for some time after docking, but Saphira was keeping watch for any patrols, so it was safe enough to talk.

"-it was only the second time that we had borrowed some of his wares," said Pippin. "It wasn't much, mind you – just some potatoes and carrots – but he didn't take too kindly to us after that, did he, Merry?"

"Not at all," Merry agreed. "He trained his dogs to chase us away on sight after that, even when we went to pay him back. Always was a strange fellow, farmer Maggot."

"Spirits, how much have you tortured that poor man over the years?" Eragon snorted. "I still have not forgiven the two of you for dragging me into that chase back in Hobbiton, by the by. Be thankful that I did not fall off the edge of the field as you lot did, or we would have had words."

"I'd forgotten about that," Sam muttered, as he flushed. He was used the antics of the two, but was not experienced with being dragged into such matters in his own right. Oftentimes he still could not believe what he was doing now, taking part in a quest to Mordor. It was the one place on earth that he did not want to see, but one place that they were bound to reach. Still, someone had to look after his good friend Frodo; who better than Samwise Gamgee and Frodo's own cousins? He was not well-travelled and had never left the Shire before, but one had to leap out of their comfort zone in order to grow as a person, even if Hobbits were not like to grow in any physical sort of way.

Frodo gave a wry smile as he heard the tale again. Pippin had told it for the sake of the Fellowship and Merry had added in the little details, but it still tickled him to hear it again for himself. He yearned to return to that life of peace and joy as soon as this was over. Maybe Eragon and Saphira would find a place in the Shire with them, or maybe the lot of them would join Bilbo in Rivendell. Or maybe, dark as the thought may be, he was being foolish and this quest would fundamentally change the way in which he viewed that sort of life.

Eragon's words had helped Frodo tremendously. He was pleased to still be with the company, for they all helped him a lot. However, he could not help but feel the effects of the Ring weighing him down and this was compounded by the loss of Gandalf. True, Eragon had said that the wizard was not gone, but Frodo did not see how that could be. He hoped that Eragon was right, but hope was in short supply these days. Every step he took now hastened his way into the arms of darkness.

"My father would have clipped the lot of you around your ears," Boromir laughed. "How did you avoid the temptation, Eragon?"

"With great difficulty," Eragon muttered, pipe now between his teeth. He fumbled with the light a bit, but eventually it caught and he carried on walking. Okay, maybe he forgave the Hobbits now that they had introduced him to Longbottom Leaf. It was an awful habit, but something in the pipe weed calmed him. Saphira often turned her nose up when he lit the thing, but she did nothing to actually stop him.

"When I was a lad, I yearned for adventure," Gimli said wistfully. "My father disappointed me by making for Erebor without me by his side." This was something that Gimli had spoken of on departure from Rivendell, but now that they had a better grasp of the mission, Eragon felt that he had an answer for the Dwarf.

"Clearly, it was worth the wait," Eragon said, as he pointed his pipe at the Dwarf much as Brom would have done. "Nothing like this quest has ever been attempted before. I do not care for what the annals of history say about me, but they will remember all of us for a cert, if we are ultimately successful."

"I prefer to carve out a new future for all of Middle-Earth," Boromir admitted. "If the king returns to Gondor after the destruction of Sauron, it will usher in a new age."

As he said this, he cast an inquisitive glance at Aragorn, who did not look back, although his head shifted a touch in response.

"I shall have my answer some other time," Boromir said with a wink at Eragon, who grinned at the man's deliberate lack of subtlety. He was pleased to see that Boromir had become the man he was once again. Eragon had also helped to clear the minds of the others, but none of them had suffered under the presence of the Ring as much as Boromir had. Eragon saw a glimmer of the chain that Frodo bore around his neck and resisted the urge to shiver. He was checking on the Hobbit's mind several times a day now.

Meanwhile, Aragorn continued to guide them. Emyn Muil was an unforgiving place; it seemed as if one could stumble over the edge of a rock and fall a hundred feet for their efforts. The stone here was dark and sharp, as Gimli had warned them. Aragorn had already said that they would stop at night out of safety, but they had a couple of hours to go yet. And really, all of them were happy to put some miles between them and the river. Eragon could no longer smell the smoke of his fires – other than the one between his teeth, of course – but the memory was fresh in his mind.

"Do you feel as out of place here as I do?" Eragon asked Legolas out of the corner of his mouth, as he stepped around a sharp boulder and hopped across a narrow opening in the ground. He had grown up in the Spine, but had stuck to the woods for the most part. The mountains themselves were perilous enough that no one could boast of having the experience with the area that Eragon did, but even he was not fool enough to traverse them at night-time. He was thankful for Aragorn's intelligence in this place.

Legolas wrinkled his nose and indicated the pipe that Eragon smoked. "I feel that you are more within your comfort zone in these types of places than you let on, my friend. For sure, this is not Moria, and at least here we have some fresh air to give us respite, but every step hastens our journey towards the land of shadow. I will be restless until this is over, but I do not like to think on what might come next. Tell me, as one who is not Elf or Man, what do you make of our world? It must seem as though all of it has been tainted by evil."

That was a good point and it caused Eragon to wince. Still, if he were to analyse what he had seen from an objective standpoint, there was one piece of good news to help salvage the situation.

"The evil that I have seen comes from the blight of Sauron; when he is gone, I imagine that the world will flourish once again. Evil has existed since the beginning of time, so there is little point in dwelling on the idea, regardless of the world that I am in. I know for a fact that you must have more experience of it here than I do," Eragon chuckled.

"The discrepancy in age speaks for itself," Legolas smiled. "At least you have seen the beauty of Rivendell and Lothlórien, so you know that the forces of good have something worth fighting for."

"Oh, without doubt," Eragon nodded. "The Shire is the best example of all, for its people are not bred for war or any other type of conflict. As a norm, the most trouble they bring upon themselves is when they are chased by farmers and their dogs."

"You've given us a bad reputation, Pip," said Merry. Pippin only looked confused, for he had missed Eragon's jibe and now Merry's shifting of the blame.

Aragorn called for a break soon after that and Sam got a fire started, pleased to cook some decent food again. He claimed to be missing a cooked meal, even if the lembas bread "wasn't bad". Eragon could not fault his logic and happily tucked into the small ration of eggs and sausages that Sam had taken from Lothlórien. It would soon run out, so they were wise to make the most of it. Full bellies were a great form of motivation. Eragon caught Frodo's eye and gave him a pointed look; the Hobbit winced at the expression and made a show of eating what Sam gave him, which drew a nod from the Rider.

"This is where we go next," Aragorn later said, as he pointed at the map that he had spread out for the others to see. The entire company crowded around at his request. "The pass from the river leads northeast through Emyn Muil, at which point we must find the path that leads down from the labyrinth and into the marshland to the south. From there, we need to find a way through and continue east, to the Black Gate. I know a little of this place, but cracks in the rock are both perilous and known to change the landscape, so we will not rush."

"It hardly seems possible that we have come so far," Frodo murmured, as he stared at the Shire. They had journeyed several hundred miles from there, and that was only if one discounted the twists and turns and simply measured the distance in a straight line.

"Do not take this lightly," Aragorn advised him. "There is still much to be done and things will only grow more difficult from this point forward. We must decide how we will find our way into Mordor soon."

"I eagerly await the sign of providence," Eragon snarked, before realising that he had a serious question. "Tell me about the Black Gate – how heavily defended is it?"

"It is the strongest fortification in all of Middle-Earth," Boromir offered. "We have sent scouts there on many occasions in an effort to find a weakness, but none have ever been successful. The entrance to Mordor is guarded by legions of Orcs, trolls and the Nazgûl. From what the scouts have told me, the gate will only open when patrols come and go, or some additional force seeking to join Sauron."

"Easterlings?" Eragon pondered, as he tapped his chin. "Again, I find myself drawn to the prospect of approaching Mordor from that direction, but if there are openings on the far side, why would the Easterlings bother to circle around to the Black Gate at all?"

"Passing by the eastern side of the Ash Mountains is no easy task," said Aragorn. "It is safer for them to approach the Black Gate. Out of all of Sauron's allies, they are by far the most dangerous and likely the second-most numerous, after his own army of Orcs. The Haradrim would place third."

"I don't see why any decent folk would ever want to fight for evil," Sam muttered.

"Politics," Eragon told him. "Sauron will promise them riches, favours and power in exchange for their support, which is more than the alliance can offer at present. And although "decent" is subjective in war, I have no sympathy for any who align themselves willingly with a place like Mordor. There will be no choice but to deal with them at some point."

"Some of them also have a longstanding feud with Gondor," Boromir added. "That does little to help sway them to our cause."

Aragorn nodded, then looked at Eragon. "Eragon, I know that the idea of providence does not sit well with you, for we are of one mind in that regard. However, I had hoped that it referred to you having an idea on how to use your power to sneak us into Mordor. What do you know that can help us?"

Eragon blinked at this. Since someone or something had summoned the two of them from Alagaësia, it made sense that others might take that viewpoint. Eragon had not considered it; nor had Saphira, judging from the feeling of surprise that she exuded from the air.

"I admit that this is a new line of thought for me," he said sheepishly, as he scratched his head in embarrassment. "Gandalf remarked that unless I could shift a mountain from the earth, magic will not find a way into Mordor by itself. He was adamant that we follow one of two paths – the Black Gate or Cirith Ungol. And he was incensed by the idea of the latter."

"There is a dark presence about Cirith Ungol," Boromir shivered. "None dare to venture there. Sauron does not even bother to guard the tunnel with more than a handful of Orcs."

"Why?" Eragon frowned. His mind was empty of the place. "What lives there?"

"I do not know," Aragorn shook his head, and Boromir frowned in agreement with him. Likewise, Legolas and Gimli had no clues on the matter.

"Eragon, remember what Gandalf called it. He spoke of "the spawn of Ungoliant," Saphira remarked suddenly.

Eragon felt his blood freeze as he realised that she was correct. Gandalf had said that in their private meeting with Lord Elrond. He relayed her words to the others and watched as Aragorn and Legolas took on dark expressions. None of the others seemed to know what the words meant, but Eragon did. He had thought of Ungoliant only a few days ago, in Lothlórien. One of her descendants would undoubtedly be another foe that he could not kill with the words of death, for it would be both old and very powerful.

And in that moment, Eragon's vision flashed white with understanding. Enemies like Ungoliant, Durin's Bane, the watcher in the water, the Nazgûl and Saruman had one thing in common – they were ancient beings. Not just old by way of age, but in terms of the power that they exuded. Their origins stretched back to either the dawn of the world or in the period immediately following it. He was not sure of the watcher, but it was the only explanation he could find that made sense. And the Nazgûl may have been younger, but they were directly linked to Sauron. Immediately, he himself felt a little older at the revelation and not in a good way. He explained his findings to the Fellowship, but it was Gimli who queried them.

"But what of the Uruk-hai that Saruman sent after us? They were not ancient," the Dwarf said.

"No, but they were of Saruman's creation after he fought me and came to know of my magic," Eragon said. "We have to assume now that any fresh Orcs he sends after us will have that same defence mechanism, to say nothing of what Sauron will do to his soldiers. What a pain in the neck," he growled. "Back in Alagaësia, battles were often fought with the pretext of using soldiers as human shields for magicians, who protected those soldiers from mental assault by other magicians. The idea was to kill that magician and then destroy the soldiers that they were guarding, and the words of death were the best means of doing so.

"Now that I think about it, it makes an annoying amount of sense that Saruman and Sauron would take on the role of "magicians" in their own right. They are extremely powerful beings and have a mental strength of their own that I do not even understand, let alone one that I could hope to match. Just look at the Ring and its effects on people to see an example of that at play. Hells, even the Balrog was powerful enough to almost overcome me, for it was a servant of Morgoth himself."

Eragon found that he had a newfound respect for the enemy now, one that he hoped would save lives in future.

In truth, this world was less than it had once been. Eragon's glimpses into the history of Arda showed that it had diminished over the millennia. The numbers of soldiers on the sides of both good and evil had decreased dramatically, the Elves were almost gone, the Powers had fled from Middle-Earth, huge chunks of the land itself had been destroyed, certain races had been rendered extinct in the wars of old, what kings and lords remained were but shadows of who had once been and the strength of those left had faded. There were still exceptions to this – all of his companions had proven their worth – and he was sure that some would argue the arrival of a Dragon Rider heralded a coming new age, but the facts remained stark and bleak: the world was less, and the power of its ancient magic all-but spent. That was why he was able to dominate those he came into contact with; the Gedwëy Ignasia thrummed in response to the challenge and his power continued to grow with each day.

But, the ancient things of the world were remnants of a time more splendid than this. They were of an altogether different kind of strength, whether good or evil, and had lived in a time of magic and glory. That magic still flowed within them and was able to challenge his. He would not find it easy to defeat foes of that calibre; indeed, had not done so once thus far.

Eragon shook his head in disdain. He explained these revelations to the Fellowship too. Saphira listened quietly as well, for she had been searching for an explanation. "It all makes sense to me now. For what it's worth, I am not confident of being able to overwhelm a child of Ungoliant without tremendous difficulty. I think that it would be weak to fire, but therein lies another problem – Cirith Ungol is yet another passage in which Saphira would not fit, and I am sick and tired of being without her in these situations."

"We must find a way to deal with that," Aragorn remarked. "When we enter Mordor, it will be exceedingly difficult for Saphira to remain unseen. The great eye will be open and watching for her."

"Communication will be another problem," Saphira said bitterly. "If Sauron is a master of the mind arts, given how powerful the Ring is, it will be dangerous for us to open our minds to one another in proximity to Barad-dûr. I admit that we have not given this enough thought, little one."

"I agree," he said with reluctance. Neither of them had wanted to talk about it on account of what it might mean. "What is the point in the oath that we swore to one another if we must break it at every moment of peril? How would that be any different to the two of us abandoning the Ring? Our words to one another mean more than those spoken to others, do they not?"

"They do," she said, softer this time. "We will find a way. Perhaps we can fly above the clouds and scout ahead, or hide within the mountains there as we search for a path to Mount Doom."

"Maybe," Eragon said, but he was still unconvinced that it would be possible. "I do not want to venture into Cirith Ungol without you. Look at what happened in Moria; this time we know that there is something dangerous in our way!"

"Perhaps a part of the roof is open," Saphira mused. "If we can find a way to help the others climb on top of the pass, we may be able to scale it from above."

Eragon liked this idea more. "I suppose it's worth a try. It may be difficult if we need you to carry them because of Frodo, but maybe I can grab him and scale the cliff. Or, maybe I'm clutching at straws and we'll all fall to our deaths, or into the spider's lair."

"Or maybe you should have some faith in my plan," Saphira growled.

"It isn't you that I have no faith in, Saphira. I trust you more than any other person in two worlds. No, I have no trust in the land around us, nor in the enemies that we fight, for this place is more dangerous than Alagaësia by far. It is also much bigger," Eragon added, as he looked back at the map.

"I… I am sorry, Eragon. My temper is short these days. I just do not like the idea of being parted from you again, so I will do anything to ensure it does not come to pass," she said sadly.

"Come now," Eragon said, as he rubbed her leg. "We feel the same way. You have nothing to be sorry for."

She hummed contently in response to this. The Fellowship had left both of them to talk for a while, in hopes that they might come up with a plan. The rest of them were talking quietly among themselves.

"We have not come up with an adequate solution," Boromir admitted, when he saw that Eragon was looking back at them again.

"Saphira has an idea," Eragon said, which seemed to garner some relief. He smiled at the reaction. "It is dangerous, but that is to be expected here. Saphira thinks that we should try to go over Cirith Ungol, rather than go through it. She can carry most of you above the pass, if it looks flat enough to walk on, and I can climb it with Frodo. If it works, it will bypass the need to make for the Black Gate and will help us to avoid the spawn of Ungoliant."

"Pardon, but just what was this Ungoliant?" Merry asked.

"A great spider who once fought with Morgoth," Eragon said. "She aided him in warring against the Valar by casting webs of Unlight and consumed the light of the Trees of Valinor, a despicable crime. She grew so powerful and so large that even Morgoth became wary of her, but eventually she vanished after Morgoth and his Balrog servants drove her away. No one knows what happened to the spider, but she hasn't been seen since the drowning of Beleriand. It is believed that she died there, but one of her children resides in Cirith Ungol."

"Ah. Well, if we take another vote on this, as we did with the Redhorn Pass, I cast mine in favour of the alternative," Pippin said, with such a serious expression and accompanying nod that Eragon's composure cracked. He gave a bark of laughter in response and found that he was joined by the rest of the Fellowship as the sombre mood broke. Even Aragorn grinned. Nor did Eragon miss the sly look that Merry and Pippin exchanged. For the second time, he marvelled at just how clever the Hobbits were and at how badly he had erred in his judgement in Rivendell; Elrond and Gandalf had certainly been right to send them along.

They let talk of their plans drop for the evening. There was still work to be done, such as whether it was worth the risk when they did not know if the pass would be flat enough to walk on, but for now they all needed to sleep.

The further they delved into Emyn Muil, the more uninviting the place became. It was now more a task of climbing up and down than one of walking, but at least Sam's rope did not burn their hands, courtesy of its Elven design. Their progress was slow, but steady. Each day they walked and each evening they rested, for Aragorn would take them no further when the sun began to set. Courtesy of Saphira's guidance, they were on the right trail.

It was on one of those evenings, when Eragon had first watch, that he saw the shadows move again. This time he did not react, but instead looked away, as though he had never seen the movement in the first place. He alerted Saphira immediately, but requested that she pretend to be asleep for now. Eragon deliberately turned his back then and sat on a rock nearby, where he feigned tiredness and having to fight it. Eventually, he let his eyes shut in apparent submission and began to murmur and snore softly, although his heart was pounding. Saphira kept her eye on him, to ensure that nothing crept up and slit his throat.

After some minutes, Eragon curled up as if to get comfortable. He lay like that for a while, until Saphira alerted him.

"It is almost upon you," she said.

Again, Eragon did not react, but he instinctively felt the weight of Brisingr against his side and was glad for it. A short time later, he heard a soft, harsh voice muttering to itself, and his hair stood on its ends at the tone of voice.

"Thieves," the voice said, with a soft, almost unnoticeable growl. "Filthy little thieves they are, precious. We curses them. We hates them. They stole it from us. We wants it back. Where is it? Find it, we must. We needs it. We should wring their necks as they sleeps. Gollum, Gollum. Where is it?!"

Eragon had heard enough. He knew on instinct where the creature was and instantly snapped his eyes open. "Letta!"

Gollum gave a cry of fright as Eragon's spell prevented him from moving. He struggled, waving his arms and legs about like a fish might flap its tail on land, but it was no use. Eragon held him in place, scarcely five metres from where he lay. Gollum had somehow scaled the sheer rock next to the Fellowship without aid of a rope.

He was a pitiful creature, as Gandalf remarked. His body was misshapen on account of the Ring's corruption. He was gaunt and sallow. There were a number of scars inlaid across his back from when Sauron had tortured him. What little hair he had left was thin and he wore nothing but a dirty loincloth around his groin. His teeth, what few he had, were borne in a perpetual snarl as he flailed about, and all of his rage was soon directed at Eragon.

"Let us go!" he shouted. "Hates it, we do! Release us!"

The commotion drew the rest of the Fellowship from their sleep and Saphira also chose to open her eyes at last. Gollum looked at her and gave a cry of fear.

"Nasty dragon, precious! Release us!"

"What happened?" Aragorn demanded, as he drew his sword and ran over to them.

"It's okay; I've got him," Eragon said, hand still shimmering with magic. "I thought we'd lost him after entering Emyn Muil, but apparently not. He's after the Ring."

"Precious! Oh, we wants it," Gollum growled. His voice was deep and guttural now, as though tempted by a base desire that drove all else from his mind, even fear of Saphira. It was miserable to watch, point in fact.

The rest of the Fellowship witnessed this display with both pity and disgust. Frodo remembered what Gandalf had said to him in Moria and was clearly feeling the same way that Bilbo had all those years ago. The others did not seem to want to approach, but Gimli had an idea for how to handle the situation.

"Well, it's too dangerous to keep alive," he remarked, brandishing his axe. "Let's just have his head and be done with it."

Eragon had to admit that he was tempted by the idea. Gollum was a real threat, if only because he would alert the enemy to their presence if captured again. That being said, Eragon could not murder something so pathetic outside of battle. He was not a sociopath or an executioner, regardless of how others mistakenly felt. With disgust on his face at the state of Gollum, he answered.

"I will not do it myself, if it comes to that. Not unless it is to stop him from killing one of us."

"But it would be for that reason, lad," Gimli retorted. "If we let him go, he'll come back and try to kill us in our sleep."

"What chance could such a creature have against the ten of us?" Legolas asked the Dwarf, as Sam grabbed the rope that he had been gifted in Lothlórien.

"None," said Aragorn. "He must be smart enough to know that, but he was crafty enough to almost catch us unawares this time. Tell me, friend, what have you come here for? I have tracked you once before and know your ways, so be honest now."

All of them knew the answer to the question, but Aragorn wanted the truth of it from Gollum's mouth.

"We be nice to all of them if they will spare us," Gollum said, and the change in his tone astonished Eragon. It was as though someone else had taken control of his body, for now his voice was softer and almost pleasant, although it still bore the gravelled tone of one who had suffered greatly in life. "We will guide them through the rocks, yes! They will see, my love. We will take them out."

"We already know the way out," Eragon said.

Gollum's expression became desperate on hearing this snippet of information. "They must not kill us, precious! We would not hurt a fly, no! We are bound to the precious!"

Eragon sighed and snapped his fingers at Sam, who responded by throwing the rope to him. Eragon quickly bound Gollum and released his magic, for it would take a very small toll on him if he were not careful, and every scrap of power would be needed for the remainder of the journey. Immediately, Gollum began to shriek in protest.

"It burns us, precious! It freezes us! Nasty Elves twisted it! Take it off us!" he wailed.

"Spirits take me," Eragon muttered. "Losna."

The rope suddenly loosened. Eragon instead bound it to a rock and to one of Gollum's legs, knowing that he would not be able to tear through it.

"There. That is the best you will get, so quit moving about and it won't hurt you," he ordered.

Immediately, Gollum ceased his struggling, although it was clear that he did not like the feel of the rope in general. He looked at them all with wide eyes.

"If anyone has an idea, I would love to hear it," Eragon murmured, as he joined the others.

"Gandalf was right," said Frodo quietly. "I cannot say if Gollum deserves to die, but I pity him now that I see him. Eragon, do you know of a spell that will keep us safe from him?"

"Safe? Sure," Eragon shrugged. "I can shield the lot of us from harm, but that isn't the problem, Frodo. If he follows us, it will put the quest in tremendous danger. Gollum is obsessed with the Ring and will stop at nothing to have it back. He would sooner see it fall into the hands of the enemy than be destroyed, for that would mean the Ring could survive and give him another chance, however unlikely, to steal it again in future."

"What manner of creature is it?" Boromir asked, as he shot a glance at Gollum. "I have never seen its like in all my life."

"Gollum was once a Stoor," said Aragorn. "One of the earliest types of Hobbit. In his youth, he happened upon the Ring and it gave him long life, at the cost of his body and mind. By all accounts, he is over five hundred years old."

"Dear gods," Eragon whispered, as he too looked back at Gollum from the corner of his eye. He sat there, tugging at the rope and then hissing at the burning sensation that it elicited in his hand. Eragon could not fathom living such a wretched, miserable life. He was destined to live forever, but at least he would not become like Gollum. It showed the effects of the Ring's corruption in all their glory, a fact that Frodo seemed to have picked up on, if his anxious expression was one that told a story.

"Maybe we should tie him up and leave him," Sam suggested.

"No!" Gollum shrieked, having heard the comment. "That would kill us!"

"It's no more than you deserve!" Sam retorted.

Merry and Pippin seemed deeply uncomfortable with this situation, not that Eragon could blame them. Even he did not know how to react. Nor did Aragorn or even one so old as Legolas, for that matter. Ironically enough, the needed wisdom came from the youngest member of the company.

"I will not put the lives of this Fellowship at risk for one lowly beast," Saphira declared in a tone that brooked no arguments. "If Gollum is to die, I will kill him and sleep will still come easy to me each night. I see no reason to hesitate."

With that, Saphira turned to Gollum and snarled, causing him to renew his efforts to try and free himself, shrieking as he did so. At the last, he was almost in tears.

"Nasty dragon wants to eat us! Run, precious! We must run!"

"Saphira, please stop it," Frodo requested, surprising her. She relented, for although Frodo could not command her, she was beholden to keeping the Ring-bearer safe and happy. That did not mean she would spare Gollum's life, but she would listen to what he had to say.

"What would you have of us?" Legolas asked him.

Frodo looked at him, then at all of the others in turn. He swallowed. "I made a decision when last in this position, and it cost us Gandalf."

"No, it did not," Eragon said harshly, determined to nip that idea in the bud. It seemed that Frodo still felt doubt even after their talk at Amon Hen. He jabbed his finger at the Hobbit. "How could you have known what would happen? None of us can see into the future. We agreed to traverse the mines. Why, if we are going to go back and blame ourselves for things that happened out of our control, perhaps we should just fault Sauron for ever creating the blasted Ring and leave it at that."

"I… I am sorry," Frodo said at last, thoroughly rebuked. "I do not say this lightly, for I know what it means, but I cannot tarnish Gandalf's words by murdering Sméagol now. Gandalf said that he could have a part to play in what is to come."

"What did you call me?" Gollum asked, as he stopped struggling again. He looked at Frodo, and at last he caught sight of the chain around the Hobbit's neck. His eyes widened. "The master of the precious is wise and kind beyond measure," he said, in a soft voice again. "He knows what ails poor Gollum. Poor Sméagol… yes, Sméagol! That was our name. We had forgotten it. Do not kill us! We will help them, we will. We swear it… we swear it on the precious, yes! For we have nothing else to swear on! Please, take it off us!"

All of them watched this plea with some measure of sympathy in their eyes, but it was clear that some still thought that Gollum would be better off dead. Gimli, Boromir and – surprisingly – Sam seemed to veer in this direction.

"Mister Frodo," Sam began, for he knew that Frodo's mind was made up, "this is a mistake. Gandalf didn't want us to kill him, but he wouldn't have wanted Gollum to kill us either! What else can we do?"

"We don't need his help," Eragon remarked. "There is nothing he can give us that we do not already have. We know our way into Mordor."

"We knows of a secret way into Mordor!" Gollum said, perking up. "A secret way that is hidden from the Dark Lord's eye! Use it, we can!"

"What are you talking about?" Eragon demanded, as he stormed over to the creature. There was a suspicion in his mind, one that he did not like in the slightest. "Are you speaking of the tunnel known as Torech Ungol?"

Gollum's eyes widened. "No!" he lied.

But Eragon was not fooled. "What would you do, lead us there and have the spider kill us, then take the Ring for yourself?" he demanded, as he reached for Brisingr.

Gollum shrieked with fear and tried to hide behind his hands. "We would never! Nasty spider would kill us too, she would! We thought they could kill her!"

"I don't believe you," Eragon snarled. "Give us something more, or I will let Saphira deal with you!"

On that note, Saphira growled again and took a few steps forward, at which Gollum began to cry in earnest. Eragon sighed and let his fingers fall from Brisingr's hilt when it became clear this wasn't an act, then shook his head and turned back to the Fellowship.

"I have tried my best," he said. "Gollum has nothing to offer us, even if we were to show him kindness. I can take the knowledge from his mind, but let's decide what to do with him first."

"What if he can come back?" Frodo asked, eyes fixed on Gollum as he twisted and struggled with the rope at Eragon's feet. "I have to believe that there is still good in him, for if there is not, I fear what will happen to me before long."

"Nothing will happen to you," Sam declared.

"He's right, Frodo," Aragorn said. "Gollum has been this way for eight or nine of your lifetimes. We will not take that long to finish our mission. Moreover, you are stronger by far."

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Gandalf say that we would find a plan?" Pippin spoke up. "Maybe the plan has found us."

"What plan are you talking about, Pip?" Merry asked with a frown. "You heard what Eragon said. We know the two paths we can take into Mordor already. If there's even a slight chance that Gollum will ruin our mission, we can't take it."

"Maybe we can use him as a distraction," Pippin proffered.

"What, throw him into Torech Ungol and then run through while the spider devours him alive?" Boromir asked. "Forgive me, my friend, but that is not a plan. It is a gamble, given the noise that he will make as we drag him up there."

"All's I'm saying is, maybe we shouldn't be so quick to kill him," Pippin said, and Eragon finally saw the look of determination in his eyes. The Hobbit didn't really have a plan, but was not pleased with the idea of murdering Gollum, although others would dispute that such a thing would be murder in the first place. Eragon nodded in understanding.

"I have another idea," said Boromir.

"If you even mention the word 'Gondor'…" Eragon warned.

Boromir snorted with amusement. "Nay, I will not. Perhaps we should knock him out, leave him some food, and then be on our way. Now that Saphira has his scent, I daresay he will know the dangers of trying to follow us again."

The Gondorian let his eyes rest on Gollum as he said this last bit and Eragon smothered a grin at the man's ingenuity. Gollum was instantly on alert and had a look of terror in his eyes as they flicked from Boromir to Saphira. Saphira growled and made an expression almost like a smirk, which caused Gollum to fall back and cover his face again. The smile slipped from Eragon's face like hot butter. Something about this lonely, miserable slave called to him.

Hoping that he was not making a mistake, Eragon reached for Gollum's mind. There was no resistance.

What he found within was a single-minded desire to steal back the Ring, his "precious", and be with it for all eternity. He was obsessed with the band of gold and would stop at nothing to acquire it again, but a part of him hated it. Yes, he loved and hated the Ring, feelings that he gave to himself. Gandalf had been right about that. Furthermore, the rest of his mind was filled with nothing but simple desires to eat and sleep, for he was an obsessive being and had space for nothing else in his mind.

But then, Eragon frowned. A part of Gollum's mind was obscured by darkness. Striking up his courage, Eragon eased his way into this hidden section and then a feeling of great sadness overcame him. Almost misery, in fact. This part of Gollum's mind belonged to Sméagol, for the two were not one and the same. They were different halves of one being, almost like a crude imitation of Eragon's bond with Saphira. Whilst Gollum was cruel, twisted and full of malice, Sméagol was lonely, frightened and desperate to survive.

The Ring had wrought havoc upon his mind and the impact was that his body had grown disfigured overtime. Gollum's desire to have the Ring was strong and his strength of character was not weak, but greatly overpowered by the desire. If he had been weak, Sméagol would not still exist after all these centuries. It was a remarkable type of resilience, in fact, but overshadowed by the power of the Ring. This was the true scale of its power. It could manipulate, distort and destroy the mind of any it came into contact with.

Eragon watched as the Ring took control of Sméagol for the first time, giving birth to Gollum. Gollum, who murdered his cousin and friend Déagol for possession of the Ring, was promptly banished by his people and found a new home in the Misty Mountains. There he lived for over four hundred years, feeding on fish, bats, worms and even Orcs when occasion would have it. He sequestered himself in a cave and made it his own, up until Bilbo came upon him. Eragon saw the Hobbit best Gollum in a game of riddles, although Gollum protested that it was unfair and branded Bilbo a thief when he saw that the Ring had been stolen. Bilbo fled and spared Gollum's life, after which the latter hid in his cave, afraid of the light of the sun.

After some years, he grew in courage, or perhaps his desire for the Ring strengthened to the point that it overwhelmed all of his fear, and Gollum left the cave, whereby he made his way into Mordor, taken by the call of evil. He was captured and tortured hideously, which caused Eragon to grimace. After unveiling the names of "Baggins!" and "Shire!" he was released, for Sauron hoped that Gollum might find the Ring if his own servants failed. Gollum fled into Torech Ungol, the passageway of Cirith Ungol, and there he encountered the spawn of Ungoliant, whose size and ferocity gave Eragon a start. She did not kill him, for he was naught but bone, and he promised to bring her sweeter meats in exchange for his life. The spider agreed and let him go.

From there, Gollum searched for the Ring, but was eventually found by Aragorn and Gandalf, who brought him to Mirkwood. Gollum escaped the woods soon enough and made his way west, searching for the Shire, but eventually he found his way into Moria and was unable to pass through the western gate. There he waited, until at last the Fellowship came to Moria, and now his prey was in sight. Gollum tracked them through the mines, into Lothlórien and then downriver, fearful of the dragon that he spotted but determined to seize his precious.

Eragon delved deeper into Sméagol's mind and found that he did not want to cause harm to others. He had already killed one person in life and the deed haunted his every step, culminating in his vast self-loathing. His was a simple life now, driven by those baser instincts that Eragon had seen, but plagued by thoughts of what he had lost, or what little of it he could remember. Gollum wanted them dead, but not Sméagol. It was then that Eragon felt he understood both of them, for there was little by way of complex thoughts or emotions in their singular mind. Eragon connected these halves and then, with a whisper, he spoke a name, not Gollum or Sméagol, but the name of both as one. Then, with a thought, he subdued the mind of Gollum and let Sméagol come to the forefront once again.

"We feel it walking on our grave," Sméagol whispered, much as Sloan had done. Eragon shivered in response.

He could not cure Sméagol entirely, for the touch of the Ring was too powerful, but he could give him a chance. Much as he had done to Boromir and the others, Eragon purged the overwhelming lust for the Ring from his mind for good measure, as much as he could. He then withdrew from the contact.

Sméagol looked at him, still at last. His eyes searched Eragon's, and a tear trickled down the length of his misshapen face.

"What has it done to us?" Sméagol asked with wonder.

"I have given you your life back," Eragon responded. "We will take the Ring to Mordor and destroy it. You will leave us, and find your own path. The Ring is evil, Sméagol – you know that deep within your heart. It took Déagol from you and it took your life away. Will you give in again, or be free of its grasp once and for all?"

Sméagol stared at him for such a time that Eragon worried he had gone too far. Then, without warning, his bottom lip began to tremble and he threw himself at Eragon, wrapping his arms around Eragon's midriff. Eragon was startled by this, but did not react or stumble. Instead he stood there, allowing Sméagol to cling to him while spending centuries worth of tears. His cries and heaves were more like bellows, such was his joy and his grief.

"You have done a great thing," Saphira told him. "A wise thing. Gandalf, Brom and Oromis would be proud of you, my love, just as I am. This may be the greatest use of magic that either of us has ever wrought."

The sun seemed to shine brighter in that moment, as though she also approved of his actions. A tiny smile lifted the corners of Eragon's mouth as its rays fell upon him. The Fellowship was surprised, but he told them what he had done, and immediately their expressions changed to ones of wonder. This was an even greater power of his that they had not yet seen, for it was one of mercy and love.

"You are free," said Eragon. "Go and explore the world, and leave this matter to us. Do not harm the innocents of Middle-Earth. When you have seen all that there is to see, come back to me in peace and I swear to guide you to happiness once again if you need me to."

Sméagol gave a bright smile, although it did little to improve his looks. That was not something that Eragon could help with, not unless Sméagol was willing to live in peace and forget about the Ring. But this did not seem to bother the Stoor-hobbit, and he beamed at Eragon all the same. He cast one last look at the rest of the Fellowship, who were watching, until his eyes lingered on Frodo. They were softer now, full of empathy. All traces of malice had fled.

"Good master of the precious must be strong," he said. "The precious wants to control him, yes. He must be strong and brave. We are sorry he must have the burden, but we hope he will succeed. He will stop the precious from hurting others as it hurts us, yes, especially with strong master at his side."

Eragon winced as Sméagol directed that title towards him, but did not react. At last, Sméagol released him and tugged at the rope.

"Losna," said Eragon, but this time he released the knot entirely, and Sméagol was free in body as well as in mind. Free to go his own way, free to choose his path. It was proof that, no matter how strong the touch of ancient evil could be, Eragon would always confront it and find new, powerful ways of overcoming adversity. He would fight for the peace and happiness of all life, even a life as tainted as Sméagol's had been. His actions had not been of his own making, so he deserved the chance to be free.

"Sméagol will not follow brave warriors again," he promised. "Sméagol will not cross mighty dragon, no. He will go and be free. Sméagol is free at last! Sméagol is free!"

With that, Eragon watched as the creature bounded into the shadows, before disappearing entirely. He did not come back.

"Your magic," Legolas intoned, "has it ensured he will not betray us to the enemy?"

"Yes," Eragon said, eyes still fixed on where Sméagol had been. "Frodo, you were right," he added, turning to smile at the Hobbit, who looked relieved. "Sméagol yearned for this type of freedom above all things, for while it warred with his desire for the Ring but never left his mind entirely. He will not succumb again, not with a new lease on life. He is free."

"You are full of surprises, master Rider," said Gimli, who appeared shocked by what had happened. "What was that talk of graves?"

"I found out who he was and purged his mind of the Ring's touch, so it buried that part of him," Eragon explained. "I cannot overcome the Ring's strength in total, but it will give him a strong push in the right direction. And more to the point, it has given me the conviction to do what must be done. I suggest we head for Cirith Ungol and trust in each other to make it through. Short of a headfirst assault on the Black Gate, it is the only way. That is my advice to the Ring-bearer and I offer it now with complete confidence and conviction."

Frodo nodded slowly. He had finally made a decision, spurred on by Eragon's words and by what had just happened. In the end, Gandalf was right; Sméagol had been given an important part to play in the quest – he had given Frodo hope by way of Eragon and Saphira. Not for the first time, Frodo felt relieved to have the pair with him and he resolved to pay heed to their wisdom. After his talk with them at Amon Hen, this was the final acknowledgement that he was not alone, even if only he could bear the Ring.

"Very well. We will take the hidden path into Mordor and try to avoid being seen, although I feel that even the size of us Hobbits will not help in that place."

"We will protect you all," Aragorn swore, and the other warriors nodded.

Eragon placed a hand on his sternum, and watched as the rays of the sun reflected off of Aren as though they sought it out, casting some light upon Emyn Muil at last. They had their route now, and would soon be beyond the crags. From there, they would make their way through the Nindalf, making for Ithilien and the Morgul Vale beyond.

Of course, making it through the Nindalf would be a different matter entirely.

Elsewhere, the world of Arda recoiled in horror.

The world itself was not eternal in life or size. It was, as all things are, finite. It had been sung into existence at the dawn of time, but like all of the life within, it too would perish. However, it was strong and healthy for now. There were barriers that surrounded the world, separating it from the Halls of Mandos, the timeless void and what lay beyond.

Eragon and Saphira had demonstrated that there was more out there, for they had come from afar, brought by the will of Galbatorix… or so they thought.

In truth, there was a far greater game afoot, one that they had not yet come to grasp in any meaningful sort of way. The power of Sauron was supreme in Middle-Earth, but it could not compare to the strength of the Valar or to the will of Eru Ilúvatar, though he was but a fable in the eyes of many.

The protective barriers had shuddered in response to the arrival of a Rider and his dragon, for they did not belong in Middle-Earth. This marked a great discomfort in the tempering of fate; what else could come to Arda in such a manner and throw the workings of power into such chaos? There was no joy to be had in the idea, so the forces responsible for maintaining this particular barrier had tightened it after the arrival of Eragon and Saphira. Thus, they would not be followed by any from Alagaësia or elsewhere.

But… there were powers that could challenge even the will of the Valar, ancient forces of infinite destruction that had yet to be quelled. None of these forces had found their way into Arda, for the walls that had been erected stopped them in their tracks. But now, the power of Eragon and Saphira had wormed its way into Middle-Earth, showing that it was possible to overcome these obstacles. It was not within the mandate of the Valar to understand all of existence, so they could not comprehend this power.

In subduing the mind of Gollum, Eragon had meddled with the workings of fate one too many times for the liking of the Valar. He had shown tremendous destructive power, but now it was seen that he could even alter the souls of mortals. Was it possible that he could do such to the Eldar, or perhaps even the Ainur?

There was a sliver of doubt in the minds of those who watched now, but they would follow their own code and not interfere.

And yet, the doubt… the fear… remained. Why had the pair been brought to this world and by whom? The whole of reality seemed caught in the convulsions of fate's death-throes at the time of their arrival, but the purpose of the summons was unknown. They did not know, not yet. Not yet.

But they would learn.

This doubt caused a ripple to spread throughout the fabric of the world, one that would have consequences.

The world had that life of its own, one granted by the chords of the First Music, chords that still echoed deep within its essence, such that it twanged in response to the passage of time. Its fate had been spelt out from the beginning and it had been ready and willing to the take the next steps in its life cycle at all times.

Until now.

Now, it had lost some of its sense for what would come next. The powers of the dragon and her Rider, the doubt of the Valar and the breaking of fate had sent the echoing notes into disarray. The music was off-pace.

And a single crack, ever so slight and unnoticed, ran down the length of the world's barriers.

:Acknowledgement:

"The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater." - J.R.R. Tolkien

R.I.P. to Christopher Tolkien. I know that I am late with this acknowledgement, but I have not updated since his passing. His tireless work on his father's legacy shaped the series as much as John's writings did, so I am confident in saying that we could not appreciate the series as much as we do today without him. Differences of opinion do not matter; respect for his legacy does. The world feels a little emptier now that he is gone.

:Author's Notes:

First off, an apology. I planned to upload this alongside Chapter 15 and even said as much to some reviewers, but life has had other plans. I have to work from home now, and I am not really in the mood to sit at my computer all day for work, then sit at my computer all night in order to write. I need to mix things up. Chapter 15 may take a while to complete, so I wanted to get this one up instead of keeping it on ice for no reason. More importantly, I hope that everyone is staying safe.

I have had this idea of ancient magic in my head from the beginning of the story. It is why Eragon could not read Gandalf's mind and why even the Old Forest caused him trouble. Tolkien made it clear that Middle-Earth was diminishing in the series as time went on, so I am using that idea to counter the arrival of this new type of magic. There is absolutely no way that the armies of the Third Age could measure up to those of the Second or First, as one example. Why, you might ask, do Eragon's normal spells work where the words of death do not? The answer lies in mental acuity and how magic impacts that. More will be provided as an explanation/example overtime.

Sméagol will not return in any meaningful sense in this tale. I wanted to write something different where he was concerned, so there you have it. Eragon knows his true name now, so he will not trouble them again. This does not mean that Eragon is capable of overcoming Sauron; as with the point about magic, it just means that he is strong enough to fight.

Eragon and Saphira love each other. That does not mean they are going to be together. Their bond is deeper than that and not constrained by any sort of social norm; canonically, it is essentially a soul bond, as much as I sigh when I see that concept in Harry Potter fanfiction. They cannot be together because they always have been and always will be together in a much deeper sense. More on that to come.