AN: Well... hello again! (readers hurl rotten tomatoes at the horrible entrance and attempted excuse).

Seriously though, I have been working on this chapter for weeks. Months, if you count that I wrote the Wormtongue section sometime last year. But it seems that these days I am only able to grab a scrap of time here and there to write. Many of my RL friends who used to write fanfiction have simply quit completely. However, I can't do that--to myself or to the readers. I am just too in love with my stories and the whole idea of fanfiction.

So my endless apologies for taking so long. This is a lengthy chapter, and I hope it lives up to your expectations. ::cowers:: Review Responses at the bottom, and be sure to read the summary of last time to refresh your memory. Enjoy!

Last time: Nazgul attacked the Grey Havens and moved on over the Sea to attack the little boat of Glorfindel, Elladan, and Elrohir that carried the Seed of the Seas. The three elves were left wounded and weary after the battle, but with the help of the Sea they managed to cripple the dragons and force the Nazgul to retreat. However, their boat had blown too near to shore and the rudder broke upon the rocks, forcing the trio to camp on land. Meanwhile, Frodo and Sam reached the end of the Marshes. Saturn and Uranus masked the hobbits in shadow and confused the winds, allowing the ringbearers to slip into the Land of the Enemy behind a hoard of Haradrim. The senshi advised the hobbits on how to creep through Udun to reach the wasteland of Mordor, and from there, Mount Doom. The sprites faded into the night with the promise "We are with you."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She was there again. She was always there, hovering just beyond his consciousness.

She was there whenever he let his mind be at ease and rest in distant havens. In waking, she was never far from his thoughts as the vision continued to trouble him.

She would stand there, the snow swirling all around, in that same strange blue outfit which he had first seen her upon the mountain. She would raise a semi-transparent arm and call something, but the howl of the storm would snatch away any words. Her face was pained. And always, just as he was about to reach her, the storm would leap up even stronger and blow her away.

He was never at peace. She plagued him always.

The Lady of Caradhras.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The waves gently lapped the sandy shore. The small craft Mirengaer rested nearby, providing a bit of shelter between the endless stretch of land and sky.

Elladan and Elrohir lay upon the shore wrapped in some spare sailcloth, sleeping as men would. Their wounds from the battle with the Nazgul were safely bound, but their bodies were exhausted. Glorfindel's own mind struggled to remain focused on the present and longed to rest. Instead, Glorfindel let his mind wander through his thoughts and memories as he whittled a bit of driftwood by the small fire, humming some long lost tune.

How many years since he'd seen the Sea? Here, where the land, sea, and sky knew no limits? Once, one with farsight could see all the way to Valinor from the shores of the mortal world. Glorfindel let his eyes wander to the edge of the horizon, staining until he could see the distant shore. If he stared long enough, he could just barely detect a faint shimmer of gold.

But no. That would only be Vasa descending to the depths of the Earth, though she had set hours ago. None could see the Blessed Realm any more. Those shores had long since been swallowed up into the depths of the Sea.

Glorfindel continued to sing as his heart grieved. Few elves remaining in Arda knew the wonders of the Realm Beyond the Sea. The Sea called to them, but few truly missed it for they had never seen. They never knew what they were missing.

How could Feanor, despite his rash pride, have borne to leave? Glorfindel wondered. Granted a new body, he himself had returned to the Land of the Living to fulfill his oath to his king's family-- and serve Elrond as adviser, companion, and friend (1).

The waves crashed gently upon the shore. Glorfindel's heart sighed as he was sharply reminded of Nevrast, the home of his youth upon the shores of Beleriand. He abruptly stopped singing, but his song continued.

Glorfindel looked up sharply in surprise, reaching for his sword, just in case. But this song seemed to be coming from the waves themselves, as if a strange echo of the songs of Old. He strained his eyes into the darkness around the fire, willing his eyes to adjust to the starlight.

At last he made out an indistinct figure, walking lightly along the wet sand, his dark hair blending into the night. He was softly singing the same song that Glorfindel had been humming, but he now hummed the ancient Quenyan words which Glorfindel had long since forgotten.

Glorfindel relaxed the grip on his sword and stood by the firelight. "Mellon?" he called out to the night. The twins stirred at the sound of his call.

Slowly the stranger made his way towards the fire, continuing to sing. The shadows danced weirdly across his face. Clearly an elf, he seemed oddly familiar, but Glorfindel could not place a name with his face.

"Come, friend," Glorfindel continued in Quenya as he gestured to the small camp. "Sit and enjoy a meal with us."

The stranger shook his head. "I no longer have need of mortal food. I have only the Sea and the Stars, yet even they are a curse."

Glorfindel let the subject drop as he sat down and gestured for the stranger to do the same. "What brings you to the edge of the Sea on such a night?"

The stranger lowered himself to a crouch. "I am always here. This is my doom." His eyes seemed strangely distant.

"Never to sail?" asked Glorfindel with surprise.

"No!" replied the stranger with sudden ferocity.

The twins slowly approached the fire and sat on either side, suspicious and curious. "Can we not at least offer you a bit of food and a place to rest? You may not need to eat, but perhaps it will help you enjoy memories of food."

The stranger slowly took the lembas loaf offered. "I remember these," he said slowly, examining the bread with a strange sheen in his eyes. "So many battles, so many journeys." He quickly gobbled it up. "And still soothing to the soul."

"What is your name, stranger?" Elrohir questioned.

"I am Uuner,"(2) he replied passively.

"No!" cried Glorfindel. "Perhaps you prefer to forget yourself, but I will call you Lingaer, the song of the Sea. For your voice is one of the greatest I have ever heard in this mortal realm and truly was one with the waves."

Lingaer nodded in consent. "Very well. It has been long since I have spoken to any creatures who desired a name."

Glorfindel suddenly remembered himself. "My name is Glorfindel. This is Elladan and Elrohir, my companions."

Lingaer's eyes shone curiously at Glorfindel's name, but he said nothing. "And to where do you travel?" he asked, eying the small boat.

"We sail south. A horrible storm broke our rudder upon the rocks and forced us to camp upon the shore until it is fixed. Yet our skill with a seacraft is limited, consisting only of bits of memory."

"You are whittling the wrong way," said Lingaer, eying the driftwood with a critical eye. "You have provided me with warmth of body and soul; I will repair this for you."

The three other elves thanked him with gratitude and offered him more lembas as they conversed into the night, waiting for Vasa to return and the work to begin.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Treebeard watched as the company from Helm's Deep neared the gates of Isengard. With a twinkle in his fathomless eyes, he observed the two hobbits merrily greeting the Rohan king and their lost companions. With a pang of sorrow, he became aware again of the light weight he held in his palm.

With slow movements, he lifted his ancient woody arm and opened his fist. A small green gem seemed dwarfed among his mighty fingers. But this gem had long protected his homeland, long had its powers kept evil at bay and kept a mystery around the forest.

But no longer. As he watched the small hobbits, he wondered again if this was the right choice. Gandalf had always spoken wisdom before, but to surrender the only defense of Fangorn? Only once, in all the Ages, had the Forests lost their Seed. Only once, and disastrous consequences had followed.

A childlike laugh reached his ears, a laugh that seemed out of place among the dreary city and the dark fortress. Yes, it was not for himself that he surrendered the Seed--it was for the little folk who had no defense of their own.

Treebeard lowered his arm and closed his fist once more. Perhaps his decision would do nothing to save the little folk. Perhaps their lands, and now Fangorn as well, would inevitably be corrupted and destroyed. Perhaps all would be enslaved and all the forests would burn and all hope would flee Middle-earth.

But not yet. Hope still remained, though only a glimmer. Evil grew stronger, stronger than any force that the Seed of the Forests alone could keep at bay. Perhaps there was wisdom in Gandalf's words. Perhaps his quest is not as hopeless as it seems.

As the company passed through the Gate, Treebeard heavily lifted his limbs and moved to greet them and present to Gandalf the tiny gem that had guarded the forests for so long.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Wormtongue hurried into the empty tower room of Orthanc. Below, his master conversed in elegant tones with the invaders who had left Isengard in ruin. He could still hear the rising and falling of Saruman's buttery voice. Below, the foul wizard Gandalf Stormcrow listened, aware of the danger of the voice but oblivious to any danger from above. Wormtongue snickered evilly. Even a wizard cannot survive a heavy blow from above.

He scanned the room quickly, looking for a large blunt object. The large black ball in the center of the room would do nicely. But his hands strayed and instead picked up a heavy cinderblock nearby.

As the thing lay in his palms, the block broke apart easily, and Wormtongue realized that it was not a block at all, but a box. The inside was covered in velvet, housing the two most beautiful gems that he had ever seen . . .

They were perfect. One, blue as ice, sparkling like shimmers of falling snow in the dull light. The other, a warm and glowing orange, reminding him of a warm hearth on a winter's eve, or the welcoming of the sun at dawn. Both completely smooth with no visible cuts. Both seeming to hold a universe of their own and limitless power within. Both perfect in every way. Wormtongue stared hungrily into their depths.

At length, Wormtongue returned to himself, and greed consumed him. What right had Saruman to keep such beauties locked away in such an ugly box and never speak of them? Then again, what right had Saruman to such wonders at all? They were surely just another stolen treasure among his vast collection. But what has been stolen once can easily be stolen again. Wormtongue quickly pocketed the two gems, shut the box, and returned it to its original position.

Below, Saruman's voice seemed harsh, the sweetness gone. There was little time left. Wormtongue hurried over to the large black orb, but as he moved a new thought occurred to him. Saruman stood below, as vulnerable as the grey wizard. One heavy blow to the head would do him in as well. And with Saruman gone, he, Grima Wormtongue would be master of Orthanc, master of all its secrets and treasures.

He grabbed the orb and hurried to the window. The conversation was almost over. But which would he send to his doom? Saruman . . . no, Gandalf . . . Saruman . . . Gandalf . . .

Suddenly Wormtongue screamed in agony and dropped the large ball without aiming, somewhere between the two. Grima ripped open his pocket and flung the burning jewels far away from himself.

The pain was unbearable, even after the gems were gone. With tears of misery, Wormtongue looked at his scared and bloodied hands, which had only held the deadly jewels for a fraction of a second. He didn't dare examine his burnt side, his hands were horrible enough. One felt dead, as if sliced by a thousand icicles and instantly frozen by the harsh winter. He could already see the frostbite blackening his palm. The other continued to burn as if he had held a flame of the sun in his hand. The hand was no longer even red, but charred black.

Wormtongue wailed in misery and loss.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Below, Gandalf paid little attention to where the near-death palantir had fallen. Instead, his attention was drawn to what seemed to be two stars falling from Orthanc. A wail of anguish followed them through the air.

"Mithrandir..." Legolas murmured in wonder as his keen eyes beheld the strange sight.

Both he and Aragorn vaulted off toward where the stars had crashed into the water. Aragorn veered off to the right and followed a weird warm current, but Legolas remained focused on the spot where his eyes noted the blue star contacting with the foul water.

Another cry echoed through the air, this of anger and hatred, followed by strange screams and curses from the tower. Legolas hurried his search.

He neared the location of impact and was shocked to find a cool blue glow pulsating through the foul liquid. Legolas followed the light and plunged his arm into the water. After a moment's groping on the underwater ground, his fingers made contact with a smooth pebble. His fingers closed in on the object and lifted it from its resting place. At first it seemed to burn his palm like fiery ice, but now grew gradually warmer at his touch.

(FLASH!) Buried alive in a cold icy tomb. Overcome by the cold, even Legolas' light heart began to despair. With a struggle, he was the first to break the surface while the other remained entombed.

And then he saw her. That strange girl, just standing there on the edge of the deadly cliff. Her skin was paler than the snow that swirled around them; her short hair was midnight blue. Her face- sorrowful yet compassionate. And her eyes... there were no words to describe them. Even from a distance, they shown with an immeasurable depth of wisdom that even the elf failed to fathom. (FLASH!)

Legolas shook the strange feeling away. In the distance, Aragorn slowly lifted something that glowed orange among the debris. The light of both gems began to dim as their rescuers moved slowly, with wonder, back to the company. Neither noticed the heavy orb wrapped in Gandalf's cloak or the strange look in Pippin's eyes.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Their breath came in hard ragged gasps. The plain of Gorgoroth and the wasteland of Mordor stretched out before them, like an endless nightmare pierced only by the fiery Mountain of Doom.

They had made it through Udun. In the fading light of twilight, they had slipped in before the heavy gate slammed behind them. They had hugged the rock face and moved slowly in the shadows until they had reached an open road. Once they had escaped the crowded Morannon, they had marched hard and fast upon the open road, as Saturn had advised. However, after only a few hours they were overtaken by a company of orcs and forced to hide among the thickets.

But the Valar took pity upon the helpless hobbits and instilled a quarrel among the uruks. As is often the case, the quarrel ended in violence, and three orc bodies were tossed into a ditch on the side. After only an hour's march after these uruks had passed, Frodo and Sam came upon these bodies and took the opportunity to disguise themselves.

It was only the disguise that saved them at Isenmouthe. At this second gate and crossroads, chaos reigned and a couple of smaller orcs were able to slip through. But it was the second night when they reached this final gate, and all the Haradrim had long since emptied into the main plateau of Mordor. Too many times in the jostle of Isenmouthe had some orc captain or another been close to seizing one of the small orcs. Too often had the small ones brushed against larger menacing creatures who glared down suspiciously. Sam shivered in remembrance.

And now they were in the midst of the wasteland, a wasteland scattered with camps and fires, a wasteland empty of any water- clean or foul. Sam licked his dry lips, but even his saliva seemed to evaporate. Beside him, Frodo continued to breathe hard.

A cool wind blew across their faces from somewhere above. Both hobbits took this sign to heart. Though so close to the camps, the hobbits had moved slowly and near to the rocks, and a shadow seemed to cover them whenever their cloaks threatened to fail. Twice now, watchman had almost seen them, but Uranus' wind was able to distract him, kicking up dust and confusing the view.

However, all these things considered, capture was the least of Sam's worries. They had moved hard and fast ever since they had entered Mordor, and with only a few drops of water left, their energy was rapidly waning. Frodo deteriorated rapidly and now seemed to stumble blindly and hopelessly through the desert. Their disguises had long since been disguarded, but a weight still seemed to weigh down on Frodo's shoulders. Sam noted worriedly how Frodo's hand was never far from the chain around him neck...

The mountain continued to grow larger and less distant, but as much as Sam dreaded the final stage, he worried that it would never come soon enough.

Still they stumbled onward through the wasteland, protected only by their cloaks and the shadow of Saturn, while the wind of Uranus led the way and the tongues of Mount Doom licked the black sky.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

(1) Read Nilmandra's "History Lessons II: The Second Age". Her portrayal of Glorfindel is exactly as I picture him. And my own theories for why he returned to Middle-earth have become mixed with her tale, so I feel obliged to credit.

(2) "Uuner" transaltes to "Nobody".

AN: I'm sorry if there's any confusion about Time in this story. The best way to read it is to focus on each individual storyline (Frodo, Glorfindel, Gandalf/Legolas/Aragorn/etc) rather than worry on what day it's all happening. Soon they will all come together, at one point in which all Time will unite. But until then, certain crucial things must happen. All the storylines are happening around the same time, but some take longer than others (::coughFrodoplot::cough::) and days are not exactly equivalent. For the Frodo and Gandalf/Aragorn plots, assume that everything happens as it did in the movie. Due to my plot, I have been forced to leave out several crucial events (Helm's Deep, more wandering in Mordor, probably Paths of Dead, etc). My apologies if this has caused any confusion.

Also, to clear up more confusion, here's a list of the status of all the Seeds as of Chapter 7:

Seed of Ice- Legolas' keeping (from Saruman)

Seed of the Heart- Aragorn's keeping (from Saruman)

Seed of Fire- Sauron

Seed of the Forests- Gandalf's keeping (from Treebeard)

Seed of Darkness- Sauron

Seed of the Skies- Sauron (from the Eagles)

Seed of the Seas- Glorfindel's keeping (from Cirdan)

Seed of Time- ?

Seed of the Stars- ?

And the anticipation mounts, mwhahaha. Don't ask, I can't tell. Feel free to guess if you like though. Also, if anyone would like to crack a guess at the identity of Lingaer (from the beginning of this chap), feel free! Good luck lol.

Now Review Responses:

MidnightGodess- lol, yes this fic is my "other type" of LotR crossover, in which I try to involve all the senshi equally rather than focusing in on one and having them born during that time. And I will NEVER write a cliched Senshi-join-the-Fellowship fic. Makes me sick, gah. As for Setsuna, I am very excited about who she will be paired with. Can't say more, sorry. Usa's pairing you might be able to guess more easily. ::wink:: Romance will be coming soon! And sorry you had to wait so long for this!

Princess Silver Serenity- Yay for more LotR stories! :D Thank you so much! ::is truly flattered::

Ookami- ::blushes:: Thank you so much! Unfortunately, Leggy is one of the few people I have a definite pairing for, planned since the beginning. He was going to be with Mako, but Ami just fit so much better in this tale. Are you sure there are not more Leg/Mako fics out there? I know there used to be tons... they suit each other so well!

momocolady- good guess for Pluto's location! I really need to get more Galadriel/Lorien scenes in here. We shall see if you're right...

Loopy Lu- eep! Yes, unfortunately Smeagol is gone for good. It's a plot twist I wanted to throw in to make it clear that this is an alternate reality... and as you will soon see and as Gandalf for told, the lack of Smeagol has drastic consequences yet to come. mwhahaha!

EyesofPearl- lol, I really do need to get Faramir, Eomer, and Aragorn in here more. Poo. They'll be coming, if that helps lol.

Crzy 1- Mina-chan in the Paths of the Dead?! Lol, that would be so much fun. Unfortunately I'm cutting out a lot of stuff that you should just assume happens (but I won't be able to write about it you want this to climax soon), and I think the Paths of the Dead is on that list. Still, it might work. We shall see.

Black Mage of Darkness- LOL! No Mako, but Treebeard did see things the wise way... we hope. "

Sunshine Fia- hey, Saturn and Uranus were in the last chap, even if they weren't new. :P Setsuna will be coming soon, and if you know a little bit about the books LotR/Silmarillion you will absolutely love where she is/who her guardian is. :D

angelwings6117- hehe, I decided to knock Endy out. Technically, he should be here, but I really didn't want to include him. So I didn't. :D

Thank you also to:

datajana

Thank you to everyone for reading and please review! The more response, the sooner I am likely to get the next chapter out. ;D Thank you for your patience. Ja!

-Calli-chan