The hobbits came to a stop in the forest, gripping their wobbly knees for support. They were weak and exhausted and desperately needed rest. And their lungs were fishing for an element they no longer possessed. The burning inside their chests suggested they had swallowed blistering charcoals.

Aside from the explicit aches and pains, their mouths were severely dehydrated and cracked. They couldn't remember when they last ate, neither could they recall having anything to drink, save for the oily liquid in a canteen that a Uruk-hai tried forcing down their throats. It'd tasted like tar, and they vomited the fluid back up. Their stomachs churned ever since.

Nevertheless, the pain reminded them of the adversities they had been subjected to after parting with the fellowship. Until now, their focus was primarily set on distancing themselves from the orcs to notice the effects of withdrawal.

"Are they following us?" Chirpa croaked to his friend, having such shortness of breath the words were all he could spare.

Taking a gulp of air Wicket peered over his shoulder. His eyes browsed over every outline in the darkness, pausing at those he was leerier of then moved to the patches of fog. Aside from creaking branches and ghostly moans of trees, their wheezing was all that he heard. There was no clanging of heavy armor or weapons. No unruly grunts or whoops or growls.

Thank the maker, no sign of orcs.

"No," Wicket huffed, turning to Chirpa he shook his head. "Perhaps they didn't see us?"

The other hobbit let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank gods," Chirpa groaned, relaxing his shoulders. "I don't think I have any endurance left in me."

"Same," Wicket muttered, straightening his back. He gave the wooded trail behind him another glance, massaging his wrists where a rope had held them bound. "I would probably surrender and let them eat me this time."

Chirpa snorted, offering a nod to show that he agreed.

Prior to their escape, one of the orcs had suggested that the hobbits be the main course for dinner. Much to their surprise, Snoke had given the orcs strict orders: retrieve the ringbearer alive. Suddenly becoming an entree for orcs seemed like a more humane way to die than what Snoke might have done had he learned that neither was the actual ringbearer. That they were a ruse while the true bearer of the Ring escaped.

Obscene insults were hurled. Fists were flung. And then the riot erupted among the horde, swords and other weapons drawn. With the orcs occupied the hobbits freed themselves of the bindings on their wrists, using the blade of a fallen orc to sever the rope. They'd fled into the woods and ran, without a clue as to where they would go thereafter.

But where was there, exactly?

"Where are we anyway?" Chirpa asked, his weary eyes surveying their surroundings.

Silent, Wicket's eyes scaled the magnificent altitudes of branches and twigs. The higher he was made to climb, the greater the strain became on his neck, halting when darkness was left in exchange for canopies. Not a sliver of sky was visible, besides a few traces of moonlight penetrating the thick awning of leaves.

"I don't know," Wicket frowned. "But we're gonna have a hard time finding a way out of here if we don't have the moon or stars for direction."

"Great. I suppose when dawn arrives the sun will be useless as well," Chirpa mused with a scowl.

This was essentially why hobbits seldom ever went on adventures. They fancied the comfort of their homes and the simplicity of not traveling beyond the borders of Tatooine. Carrying a fairytale book in hand, a visit to their own backyard was the closest to an excursion that some would ever come to have in a lifetime.

Then there was Wicket and Chirpa, Tatooine's finest pair of black sheep. The duo who perpetually craved excitement. It was but one of many reasons why they had been so eager to escort Artoo on his mission. But this place - this was something else, in the creepiest sort of way. It was unlike any forest they had traveled through across Middle Earth.

The forest was nearly lifeless. Windless and humid. Trees as tall as watchtowers brandished trunks the sizes of small houses. Large roots akin to bridges bowed above the soil. Moss dangled aloft from limbs, spidering outward like tentacles on colossal sea monsters. If they had squinted at the underbrush they would have seen symptoms of apparent decay and rot, citing a sickness that was never revoked.

The atmosphere was substantially flooded with grief and sorrow, drowning whoever entered the forest in emotions that weren't theirs. If it were at all plausible, what little life had prevailed there seemed capable of reflecting its inner turmoil. If trees held the ability to talk, there was no doubt that much could be said of its history.

"This place gives me the creeps." Chirpa shuddered, arousing the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. "Maybe we should have stayed and taken our chances with the orcs."

Wicket puffed his cheeks at the notion. "Let's not be too hasty," he chided. "We could just try climbing one of these and get some sleep. Then we can make our way higher up and see what else is out there in the morning. Maybe see if there's anything edible to eat around here, too."

Although maybe was still considerably farfetched. Finding any sort of food there was as likely as witnessing the underworld's Summa-verminoth prancing in a flowery pasture. If only they hadn't eaten their Lembas that Leia had given them in one sitting. Chirpa grumbled just as much. Wicket shrugged, tugging his grumpy companion toward the nearest tree.

Rather than bearing a solid trunk this particular tree maintained a woven appearance, surrounded by busted limbs and mangy shrubs at its base. Deep grooves in its smooth surface provided convenient footholds, while nodules among random blemishes of moss provided easy purchase for their fingers. Up, up they climbed until they reached the highest limb, where Wicket discovered its damaged peak was robbed of a proper canopy. Probably lost in a heavy storm, he supposed.

Before Wicket had been able to haul himself onto the branch his peripheral caught a swift glimmer of movement, just a smidge higher above a bundle of withered ferns. It happened so sudden like a shade of a window was drawn in its bark, exposing a -.

"Hey!" Chirpa cried below. "Are you gonna keep us hanging around here all night or what? Why did you stop?"

Stunned and frozen in place, Wicket gazed wide-eyed at what unexpectedly stared back. His mouth opened but was utterly incapable of enunciating words. The eye blinked. When the hobbit managed to regain use of his voice, he screamed.

"Wicket!" Chirpa exclaimed in panic. "Talk to me! What's going on? What's up there?"

A low rumble reverberated inside the tree and the world abruptly began to shake. Uncertain as of what to expect, the hobbits loosened their grips and fell, piercing the air with terrified screams. They landed abruptly with a hard thud on their backs. Taking a moment to catch their breath they palmed the roughness of the terrain beneath, realizing it wasn't soil but actually enormous hands.

The creature brought them to eye level, judging them as the hobbits cautiously rose from their backs. Its eyes were a dusky chestnut, eliciting centuries of existence. They saw that the same bundle of dead ferns had really been a beard, concealing its mouth beneath a pointed nose. When the creature finally spoke it uttered its words slowly, gruffly.

"Little orcs," it growled, emphasizing its disgust toward the latter term.

The hobbits shared knowing glances, then regarded the tree in perfect unison. They repeated the action several times before Chirpa gathered what little courage he retained in order to speak.

"The tree!" Chirpa squeaked, waving a pointer at the astonishing creature. "Wicket, it can talk! The tree is talking to us!"

The creature narrowed its eyes. "Tree?" It grunted, reining pride in its timbre. "I am no tree. As a matter of fact, I am an ent."

"An ent?" Wicket repeated skeptically. His eyes proceeded to widen with renewed wonder upon recognizing the title. "Chirpa, it's a tree-herder! A shepherd of the forest!"

Chirpa scoffed. "You mean you've heard of these things?"

"Aye, and this thing can understand you, little orc. So watch it," the ent accused.

"Oh, we're not orcs!" Wicket corrected happily. "We're hobbits!"

The ent raised a scaly brow, distorting the bark on its face. "Hobbits?" It hummed. "Never heard of them before."

"Yes! I'm Wicket," he nodded to the other hobbit across the way. "And this is my friend Chirpa. We're from Tatooine."

The ent pondered briefly, measuring the truth to their words.

"Chewbacca," it obliged. "Some call me Chewbacca."

"Are there many like you, Chewbacca?" Wicket asked.

Chewbacca's expression fell somber. Groaning, he lowered the hobbits to the ground. "Aye, once there were many." He stood to his full height. "Before the orcs. Before the great battle of men and elves. Now there are but few in numbers of us left."

Chirpa winced, casting Wicket a sidelong glance that lingered. "What happened?"

Chewbacca flexed his hands, speaking at a low volume. "They came with fire. Bearing torches and axes. Gnawing, hacking, and burning they destroyed everything. Usurpers, they are. Tyrants!"

"I'm sorry to hear that, Chewbacca," Wicket murmured, folding his arms. "We haven't lost as many as you, but we do understand. Someone who was dear to us was lost over our journey here."

"Aye," Chewbacca grumbled. "Now what brings two little hobbits such as yourselves so far from this - uh, Tatooine?"

The hobbits looked to one another gain. "We were helping a friend of ours venture to Dathomir," Wicket explained.

"Dathomir?" Chewbacca gasped. "Dathomir. One does not simply walk into Sidious' empire. It is riddled with fire, ash, and dust. Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs," he sneered, tightening the girth of his fists. "Its evil does not sleep. The eye is always watching, all-knowing. Not with ten thousand men you could ever survive there. It is folly if one dares to try."

Chirpa flattened his lips. "Our friend is carrying the Ring," he hissed. "Folly or not, he needs our help."

"Ooooh." Chewbacca's eyes widened and lowered himself to a crouch, carefully so to not crush them. "The Ring of Power?" He asked with piqued curiosity. "It is found?"

"Yes," Chirpa replied sternly. "He means to destroy it. And we are running out of time. I don't know how but there must be some way for us to help."

Concern was evident on the ent's weathered features. Without further words of assurance, he extended to full height and closed his eyes, releasing a powerful howl that was easily spread throughout the entire region. They waited for him to say more but silence was all the ent offered. He simply watched the trees and waited, as if expecting an immediate response by whom he had called.

Baffled by his reaction the hobbits crumpled their noses, rebukes ready but failed when they caught a drift of what Chewbacca had been listening for. Thunder caused by the march of unseen sources rumbled in the distance. The hobbits held their breath, anticipating the overall worst scenario.

The minutes had felt like hours when the herd of ents finally emerged, each appearance unique. A few were no bigger than young maples, slender and scarce of structural greens, while others were tall with lush canopies. Uttering cordial words in Entish, Chewbacca welcomed the newcomers who gathered, then turned to the hobbits.

"We ents hate orcs. We hate Snoke and Sidious," he snarled. "We will help. What do you need?"

The sweet smell of Laurinquë blooms hung fresh in Alderaan's mid-afternoon summer air. The golden blossoms' faint aroma carried through the open terrace, inside the chamber where Ben had fallen asleep on an elegant settee.

His eyelids fluttered when a hand touched his cheek, mapping a thumb over its rise to his chin. A smile twisted his mouth when she teased the shallow cleft under his bottom lip, saying nothing at first beyond memorizing his face.

"Ben," she purred, supported by her forearm on his chest as she leaned into him, pressing her lips chastely to his. "Wake up, my love."

Blindly, he lifted a hand to her face, combing loose hairs aside and drew her close for a lazy kiss. Intending to keep her there he cradled her face between both hands, deepening their tender kiss. He opened his eyes after they parted, regarding her affectionate smile through his sleep-driven haze.

Her permed hair was drawn at the sides by a half bun, shorter strays fell to her rosey cheeks, the rest gracefully down her back. Every time he looked at her, she was more beautiful than when he last saw her. And every time she never ceased to steal his breath away. Letting a hand fall to her bare shoulder, untouched by the periwinkle silk of her gown, he grazed the back of his other over her cheek.

"Is this a dream?" He grimaced.

It didn't feel like a dream. As a matter of fact, it felt real. The exemption was his skin was no longer its former lucent glow, but it's normal creamy pigment. Not a wraith but an elf. Complete and whole. And utterly in love with the woman gaping back at him.

Her eyes flickered between his eyes and lips, fingers toying with the mocha fabric of his tunic. "If it is, then it is a good dream," she smirked.

His brows furrowed, watching as a few wisps were lightly swept over her features by a gentle gust of wind. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed. "I don't want it to be. How long have I been asleep?"

She leaned in and kissed him again, her hand splayed on his cheek. "Long enough. Which is why you must get up. It is time."

Apprehensive he took a breath and nodded. Rey offered him a grin that carried to her eyes. Weaving their fingers together she stood, encouraging him to follow.

Kylo woke with a start. The chamber wasn't the same as it had been in the dream. No, unfortunately, he was somewhere he considered far worse than the Underworld itself, in the very place he had wanted to run from.

The fortress was one of two towers in which light ceased to never exist inside its black walls. Its twin was built in Dathomir, where Lord Sidious kept his watchful eye over Middle Earth. It was the home that Kylo had been given when he was born a Wraith. Back when all he had cared about was the Ring and before he remembered Rey.

"Rey…"

Groaning, he slowly pushed himself from the marble floor and got to his knees. No thanks to the orc his head was throbbing. His body was now feeling the miserable effects of having lost the battle. As much as he wanted to, dwelling on the pain wasn't an option or pondering why he was able to feel it when someone of his stature shouldn't.

He had to find Rey.

"Hello, my young friend."

Kylo snapped his head to the throne at the front of the chamber, his glare murderous when he was met with the arctic gaze of the lone figure who sat upon it. Adorning his usual white robes and beard Snoke easily stood out amongst the dark interior, posture erect, with his hands on a familiar narrow object, lying prone on his lap. Gritting his teeth Kylo rose to his feet, his hand favoring where the orc's blade had grazed his abdomen.

"Where is she?" Kylo seethed, curling his lip at the snarl.

Snoke's chuckle was somber. "You should be more concerned for your own life than of hers. But if it will make this conversation easier, young Rey will be joining us here rather shortly."

Choosing to stay silent Kylo clenched the fist at his side. His eyes held Snoke's ascetic gaze as the wizard rose from his seat, revealing the bow that Kylo had set aside during the skirmish in Mustafar. He didn't bother to ask how Snoke acquired it, or better yet why he had it. But the wizard clearly wasn't in a hurry to state his reasons right off the bat.

Snoke reached for a staff he had left propped along a wall, adjacent to the dark throne, his eyes swept over Kylo's apparel as he approached. He didn't seem to be pleased. "Interesting choice of attire, by the way. I take it that you no longer found the robes suitable for your taste."

Kylo snorted blithely. "I find it hard to believe you sent orcs after me, just so that you can address my change in wardrobe."

Snoke nodded curtly. "You are right," he assured, "For that particular reason, I did not. I am afraid that we have much more imperative issues that need to be discussed."

"I'm not aware of anything that is more important than finding the Ring," Kylo spat. "But I will listen since it appears I have no other choice."

The wizard gave him an unsettling smirk. Kylo wondered precisely how much the wizard already knew about his affiliation with Rey. If he could keep Snoke entertained long enough then he might be able to figure out a way for her and himself to escape, preferably alive.

"That would be correct, my friend," Snoke sneered and began to slowly pace around him, like a predator circling its prey.

Kylo felt the wizard's eyes penetrating the back of his skull as he passed by. While he was able to retain his calm appearance, his inner emotions had deeply betrayed the effort.

"It appears that your association with this elf has left you - conflicted," Snoke hummed, amusement etched in his tone.

Kylo regarded him before the wizard had disappeared beyond his peripheral, a frown on his lips. "It's not that simple."

Snoke paused at his other side, considering. "Is it not?" His face drew closer, uttering in a whisper. "So you are suggesting that she wasn't just an arbitrary who you wed overnight?"

Kylo's mouth instantly drained of its saliva, which made it difficult to repress the astringent flavor of nausea that crept to his throat. He looked to see Snoke's impassive features convert to knowing. When the wizard backed away and continued the leisure waltz Kylo flexed his fists, curling his fingers, his nails dug into the abrasion at his side. It should have hurt but his body was suddenly numb to pain.

"Kylo Ren, the Witch King, in love," he mused. "Clearly, I assumed wrong when I thought I had erased your memory entirely. I'd initially envisioned this would go somewhat differently but now - I am afraid it will make things a bit more complicated for you. But also more delightful for me."

"Whatever twisted game it is that you're playing, I'll never let you win," Kylo snarled with venom in his words.

"Oh, that is where you are gravely mistaken," the wizard countered, ending his final step in front of Kylo. "Because no matter what path it is that you choose I have already won."

Kylo cocked a wicked smirk, his chin leveled. "Not if I kill you first."

The wizard mirrored his opponent. "You are forgetting your place here Kylo Ren. If it weren't for me you would have been dead along with the other elves that day. You belong to me. And it is clear that a reminder is now in order as for where your loyalties should be."

"I belong to no one," Kylo growled through barred teeth.

Snoke jutted his chin slightly towards the rear entrance of the chamber. "Interesting. Not even to her?"

Kylo turned on his heels as the door to an arched passageway opened. With a large hand clasping her bicep Rey was ushered in by the orc who had carried out the order to their abduction, her wrists held bound in front by rope, wriggling and writhing in a hopeless attempt to wrench herself free. Her struggle came to a stop when she saw him.

"Ben!" She cried out, failing at her need to run toward him.

"Rey," Kylo breathed, who managed to take a few steps forward but was suddenly frozen in place. Try as he might his body wouldn't respond to the commands that his brain was issuing it.

"Ben!" Rey shouted once again. Holding the blade of its sword under her throat, the orc drove her to her knees without a struggle. Kylo immediately recognized the blade, the same sword that'd successfully wounded him in Mustafar.

"Silence dog," the orc hissed to her ear.

"Don't touch her!" Kylo bellowed.

Barred from Kylo's vision Snoke held his staff angled toward the wraith, the origin of Kylo's paralysis. "As you can see, my friend, such a weakness can be a sharp tool when it's necessary. Now, I can only ensure you that a choice needs to be made."

"Then let her go," Kylo commanded without giving the order a second thought. "She has no part in this. If it is me who you want then fine. You can have me if you but promise to spare her."

"Ben," Rey pleaded, shaking her head. "No, don't do this. Please don't."

"I would like to believe you, my dear friend," Snoke affirmed placidly. "But unfortunately I will need reassurance before I consider setting her free."

Crestfallen by the meaning of Snoke's words Kylo kept his eyes on Rey. If saving her and not himself was the only way for now, then so be it. They had found their way to each other once before. His memory wiped and all. He could do it again.

"You have my word," Kylo swallowed, his voice cracked uttering the terms.

Silence hovered in the room then. And it took every ounce of his own restraint not to run to her and kill the orc when Snoke freed him of the staff's hold. Sadness engulfed his heart when he noticed the gleam of moisture in her eyes. This time, her tears were because of him.

Im will tul- back an cin. Im ber. If he had been any closer he would've said the words for her to hear. But instead, he kept them to himself, a silent vow that he would come back for her. One day. A year from then. Or a hundred even. Or maybe in another life when there was no war amongst good and evil to be fought.

"Kill her."

Blinking from Rey and his thoughts Kylo turned to Snoke, uncertain if he had misheard the wizard's demand at first. "What?"

Snoke gestured the bow in his hand to Kylo. "I said, kill her."

"Ben," Rey sobbed, swallowing thickly the tears began to pour down her cheeks. "It's okay. It's okay, Ben."

Every sound appeared to have been sucked from the chamber as Kylo lowered his gaze to the bow in Snoke's hand. Now he knew why the wizard had kept it. And now he also understood why the quiver of arrows had never been removed from his back. Of course. Now - now, he knew what he had to do.

Leveling his chin Kylo accepted the bow and removed an arrow from his quiver. Squaring his shoulders he raised the weapon to its target, just slightly above the bridge of the nose and between her eyes. He gave Rey a final look and steadied his breath.

And then he fired.