Disclaimer: Any characters, names, regions, or incidents specified or
alluded to are the property of J.R.R. Tolkein and New Line Cinema. No
profit was made from this work.
The Spirit of the Fellowship
CHAPTER 1
Stumbling around in the dark, he ran, frantically looking for his companions. He had to warn them. Ignoring the agonizing pain in his back, he kept running, searching. Soon, he thought he saw a glimmer off to his right. [Possibly the campfire?] He dearly hoped. Running even faster, he heard the noises behind him draw closer. He began to scream.
"Merry, Aragorn, help!"
So distracted was he that he failed to notice that his path was blocked, and quickly found himself sprawled on the ground. His back aflame with pain, he gasped both from it and from fear. He knew that his folly was to be the death of him, but he couldn't let it be the same for his companions. Closing his eyes as his enemy drew nearer, and hoping beyond all hope that his friends could hear him, he took one last gasping breath and screamed, "Orcs!"
Fainting dead away, he barely registered the form that slipped down the tree and soon ran, carrying him towards the light of the camp.
Standing guard, Aragorn nodded as Legolas silently leapt into the trees. He knew his elf friend had felt uneasy ever since entering these woods, and that even now he was scouting around. For a wood elf to be uneasy when in his element was a warning in and of itself, but the nature of their mission now weighed heavily upon them all, and such warnings had to be heeded much more seriously.
Looking around camp, he saw that everyone else seemed to be resting, although not easily, especially Frodo. His dreams and sleep seemed to be disturbed by dark forces, but considering what he was destined to be and do, that had to be expected. Expected yes, but pitied and feared also. Aragorn knew the nature of the ring, as did they all, yet not even Frodo truly understood its power. No one could.
He quickly noticed though that Pippin had yet to return from his scavenging of foods. Granted, he hadn't been gone more than a few minutes, but knowing the hobbit's nature, he began to worry if he had wandered to far from camp, or had gotten lost.
Deciding to wait a few more minuets, he was disturbed from his thoughts as he heard Merry cry out in his sleep. Rushing towards the now awake and frightened hobbit, he knelt down besides him, to see what ailed him. "What is it Merry?"
Still to stunned to speak, he quickly looked at Aragon, and squeaked out, "It's Pippin. Something happened to Pippin."
Jumping to his feet, Aragorn went to wake the rest of the company, but found Frodo already at the task. He turned back to Merry, and ordered him to rise and explain. The hobbit shook his head, confused, but couldn't tell what had happened, just that he felt something bad had come to pass.
Knowing the connection the two hobbits had through their deep friendship and love for each other, he didn't doubt that his words were true. About to call to Legolas, his ears heard a cry off to his south a bit, and one right next to him. Pulling Sting from its scabbard, Frodo saw it's blue glow and cried the warning to all. Just then, Legolas came rushing into camp, carrying a limp form in his arms. The elf stopped only long enough to place the body on the ground, before he whirled and began firing arrows in the direction he had just come from.
"Orcs," the elf called back over his shoulder. "Forty some, from the south." He continued firing his arrows, while the rest of the company quickly armed themselves.
Merry ran to where his cousin had been placed, and stood guard, facing the south. Aragorn grimly noticed the other two hobbits following suit. They would have to protect their fallen friend, and themselves, and that was a deadly combination. But quickly his thoughts were distracted as the vile creatures loped into their camp.
Legolas had now abandoned his bow for his knives, pulling them quickly over his shoulder and just a quickly dispatching the nearest orc of it's head. Boromir stood slightly behind and to the left of the elf, fighting off any that got past the deadly knives. Aragorn, wary of being encircled, drew off to the north side, to make sure their right rear and flank were covered.
It was a good thing he did so, for before he even managed to get past the bristling group of hobbits, more orcs came crashing through the underbrush. As the man tried to draw away the biggest of the creatures, some went for the smaller ones of the fellowship. In a brief lull, Legolas saw this and managed to get off another deadly shot, before his attention was called back to his area of defense.
The hobbits, arrayed around their fallen friend, held their own, although Merry, without his usual counterpart, seemed unsure of himself. This won him a minor wound on his sword arm, but the slight pain brought forth anger that even hadn't realized he had had within himself, and after a few more strikes, brought down his foe.
Gimli, who had been fighting off to the rear of the company, soon found himself without enemy, and seeing that Aragorn was quickly being surrounded, went to aid his comrade. After minutes of gore, the fellowship had either dispatched or ran off the rest of the orcs. All breathing heavily, they made sure that no more attacks would occur within the next few moments, and only after securing camp once again did they turn back to the now huddled cluster of hobbits. Motioning Legolas to him, Aragorn quickly made his way over, and urgently, yet gently, forced his way between the hovering friends. He looked questioningly at the elf.
His gaze concerned, the elf knelt by the downed hobbit. "He was taken by surprise, and before I could find where he was, for I heard his cry when he stumbled upon their horde, he was wounded. He must have seen our camp, for he was trying to make his way here, all the while calling out to us, warning us." The elf looked upon the hobbit with pity and respect in his eye. "He ran, Aragorn, and only fell because he couldn't see his path. His last breath was spent in a warning shout."
Nodding, the man took the hobbit into his arms. He didn't appear to be breathing, but he still had a weak pulse. The arrow must have pierced a lung he surmised. He said as much. It was too much for Merry. "What, is he alive? He looks so pale, oh, how could this have happened?" He tried to get nearer, but seeing Aragorn's worried air, Gimli took Merry and the other hobbits away, so that he could distract them and give the elf and man room. Boromir kept guard, yet he listened, for he did care for the little ones, but it would be folly to be taken by surprise while trying to save one of their own.
Speaking in soft tones, so as not to alarm the others, Aragorn consulted Legolas. "He lives, Legolas, yet I fear. His wound is serious in and of itself, but if this arrow is poisoned." He didn't need to explain, for the flash of fear in the elf's eyes told him how well the elf understood. "What can we do, Aragorn?"
Turning the limp form over so that he could examine Pippin's chest, he had Legolas support the hobbit while he felt around the hobbit's front. His suspicion was proven true. "The arrow managed to miss his heart, which explains why he still lives, but feel here," he gently ran the elf's hand over the other's chest. Legolas's eyes widened, for he could feel the arrow point underneath the skin. That wasn't what caused his alarm though; it was the fact that he felt barbs on either side. Aragorn continued. "We'll have to push it the rest of the way through, for those barbs surly hold poison within their points.
Agreeing, the elf shifted so as to better support the hobbit when he felt him stir. Oh, little one, don't awaken now he pleaded, but stubborn as ever, Pippin opened his eyes. As memories, pain, and panic overtook him, his eyes widened, and he began to struggle, but found he hadn't the energy to put up much fight. Legolas soothing the little one, speaking softly in elvish and brushing his hand against Pippin's forehead. Calmed, he tried to speak, but when he inhaled, a wave of pain and dizziness swept over him.
Seeing this, Aragorn quickly ordered him to not speak. "I wish you had stayed unconscious, for we're going to have to rid your body of this arrow Pippin, if you are to survive." A fearful and understanding gaze was all he got in return. Now that he was awake, he wished to dull the pain for him as much as possible, so he called to Frodo to get the heated water, which had somehow managed to keep upon the fire during their battle, and bring it over. He asked Legolas to bring him his bag, and soon he had both water and bag. Pulling some leaves out of a small, tan packet, he soaked them into water, and had Pippin drink it, saying it would dull the pain. Gratefully, the hobbit took his first drink with the elf's help, and making a face, quickly finished it off.
Minutes later, satisfied that the herb had taken as much effect as it possibly could, he explained to Pippin what he and Legolas were to do. Fearful as Pippin was of the pain, he trusted both with his life, and simply nodded, closing his eyes. He only winced, and held back a cry while Legolas swiftly broke off the shaft in the back, only leaving enough to be able to push through so that Aragorn could pull from the front.
Barbed as the arrow was, both knew that the poison was seeping into the little one's body, even as they waited, but neither wished to cause him anymore pain. Both were surprised when they heard his raspy, pain filled voice plead, "Please."
Needing no more, their gazes met over Pippin's head, and soon the hobbit found himself on his knees, with Legolas behind and Aragorn to his front. He tried to relax as he felt them maneuver around him. He whimpered as he felt Legolas place his hand on the shaft.
Across camp, Sam, Frodo, and Merry watched in horror as they saw what the two had to do to poor Pippin, feeling sick. Merry began to tremble, and Gimli held him close, worried that he might run to his friend's aid, distracting the two healers. Boromir looked away, having seen this done before, in the battlefield.
Before he could think anymore of it, Legolas nodded to Aragorn and shoved the arrow straight through the hobbit's body, as steadily and forcefully as possible. As soon as it appeared through the little one's chest, the man grasped it and continued it along its path, pulling it the rest of the way through, and free of the hobbit's flesh.
The scream of pure anguish that ripped forth from the hobbit could have made even the orcs fear the same agony.
alluded to are the property of J.R.R. Tolkein and New Line Cinema. No
profit was made from this work.
The Spirit of the Fellowship
CHAPTER 1
Stumbling around in the dark, he ran, frantically looking for his companions. He had to warn them. Ignoring the agonizing pain in his back, he kept running, searching. Soon, he thought he saw a glimmer off to his right. [Possibly the campfire?] He dearly hoped. Running even faster, he heard the noises behind him draw closer. He began to scream.
"Merry, Aragorn, help!"
So distracted was he that he failed to notice that his path was blocked, and quickly found himself sprawled on the ground. His back aflame with pain, he gasped both from it and from fear. He knew that his folly was to be the death of him, but he couldn't let it be the same for his companions. Closing his eyes as his enemy drew nearer, and hoping beyond all hope that his friends could hear him, he took one last gasping breath and screamed, "Orcs!"
Fainting dead away, he barely registered the form that slipped down the tree and soon ran, carrying him towards the light of the camp.
Standing guard, Aragorn nodded as Legolas silently leapt into the trees. He knew his elf friend had felt uneasy ever since entering these woods, and that even now he was scouting around. For a wood elf to be uneasy when in his element was a warning in and of itself, but the nature of their mission now weighed heavily upon them all, and such warnings had to be heeded much more seriously.
Looking around camp, he saw that everyone else seemed to be resting, although not easily, especially Frodo. His dreams and sleep seemed to be disturbed by dark forces, but considering what he was destined to be and do, that had to be expected. Expected yes, but pitied and feared also. Aragorn knew the nature of the ring, as did they all, yet not even Frodo truly understood its power. No one could.
He quickly noticed though that Pippin had yet to return from his scavenging of foods. Granted, he hadn't been gone more than a few minutes, but knowing the hobbit's nature, he began to worry if he had wandered to far from camp, or had gotten lost.
Deciding to wait a few more minuets, he was disturbed from his thoughts as he heard Merry cry out in his sleep. Rushing towards the now awake and frightened hobbit, he knelt down besides him, to see what ailed him. "What is it Merry?"
Still to stunned to speak, he quickly looked at Aragon, and squeaked out, "It's Pippin. Something happened to Pippin."
Jumping to his feet, Aragorn went to wake the rest of the company, but found Frodo already at the task. He turned back to Merry, and ordered him to rise and explain. The hobbit shook his head, confused, but couldn't tell what had happened, just that he felt something bad had come to pass.
Knowing the connection the two hobbits had through their deep friendship and love for each other, he didn't doubt that his words were true. About to call to Legolas, his ears heard a cry off to his south a bit, and one right next to him. Pulling Sting from its scabbard, Frodo saw it's blue glow and cried the warning to all. Just then, Legolas came rushing into camp, carrying a limp form in his arms. The elf stopped only long enough to place the body on the ground, before he whirled and began firing arrows in the direction he had just come from.
"Orcs," the elf called back over his shoulder. "Forty some, from the south." He continued firing his arrows, while the rest of the company quickly armed themselves.
Merry ran to where his cousin had been placed, and stood guard, facing the south. Aragorn grimly noticed the other two hobbits following suit. They would have to protect their fallen friend, and themselves, and that was a deadly combination. But quickly his thoughts were distracted as the vile creatures loped into their camp.
Legolas had now abandoned his bow for his knives, pulling them quickly over his shoulder and just a quickly dispatching the nearest orc of it's head. Boromir stood slightly behind and to the left of the elf, fighting off any that got past the deadly knives. Aragorn, wary of being encircled, drew off to the north side, to make sure their right rear and flank were covered.
It was a good thing he did so, for before he even managed to get past the bristling group of hobbits, more orcs came crashing through the underbrush. As the man tried to draw away the biggest of the creatures, some went for the smaller ones of the fellowship. In a brief lull, Legolas saw this and managed to get off another deadly shot, before his attention was called back to his area of defense.
The hobbits, arrayed around their fallen friend, held their own, although Merry, without his usual counterpart, seemed unsure of himself. This won him a minor wound on his sword arm, but the slight pain brought forth anger that even hadn't realized he had had within himself, and after a few more strikes, brought down his foe.
Gimli, who had been fighting off to the rear of the company, soon found himself without enemy, and seeing that Aragorn was quickly being surrounded, went to aid his comrade. After minutes of gore, the fellowship had either dispatched or ran off the rest of the orcs. All breathing heavily, they made sure that no more attacks would occur within the next few moments, and only after securing camp once again did they turn back to the now huddled cluster of hobbits. Motioning Legolas to him, Aragorn quickly made his way over, and urgently, yet gently, forced his way between the hovering friends. He looked questioningly at the elf.
His gaze concerned, the elf knelt by the downed hobbit. "He was taken by surprise, and before I could find where he was, for I heard his cry when he stumbled upon their horde, he was wounded. He must have seen our camp, for he was trying to make his way here, all the while calling out to us, warning us." The elf looked upon the hobbit with pity and respect in his eye. "He ran, Aragorn, and only fell because he couldn't see his path. His last breath was spent in a warning shout."
Nodding, the man took the hobbit into his arms. He didn't appear to be breathing, but he still had a weak pulse. The arrow must have pierced a lung he surmised. He said as much. It was too much for Merry. "What, is he alive? He looks so pale, oh, how could this have happened?" He tried to get nearer, but seeing Aragorn's worried air, Gimli took Merry and the other hobbits away, so that he could distract them and give the elf and man room. Boromir kept guard, yet he listened, for he did care for the little ones, but it would be folly to be taken by surprise while trying to save one of their own.
Speaking in soft tones, so as not to alarm the others, Aragorn consulted Legolas. "He lives, Legolas, yet I fear. His wound is serious in and of itself, but if this arrow is poisoned." He didn't need to explain, for the flash of fear in the elf's eyes told him how well the elf understood. "What can we do, Aragorn?"
Turning the limp form over so that he could examine Pippin's chest, he had Legolas support the hobbit while he felt around the hobbit's front. His suspicion was proven true. "The arrow managed to miss his heart, which explains why he still lives, but feel here," he gently ran the elf's hand over the other's chest. Legolas's eyes widened, for he could feel the arrow point underneath the skin. That wasn't what caused his alarm though; it was the fact that he felt barbs on either side. Aragorn continued. "We'll have to push it the rest of the way through, for those barbs surly hold poison within their points.
Agreeing, the elf shifted so as to better support the hobbit when he felt him stir. Oh, little one, don't awaken now he pleaded, but stubborn as ever, Pippin opened his eyes. As memories, pain, and panic overtook him, his eyes widened, and he began to struggle, but found he hadn't the energy to put up much fight. Legolas soothing the little one, speaking softly in elvish and brushing his hand against Pippin's forehead. Calmed, he tried to speak, but when he inhaled, a wave of pain and dizziness swept over him.
Seeing this, Aragorn quickly ordered him to not speak. "I wish you had stayed unconscious, for we're going to have to rid your body of this arrow Pippin, if you are to survive." A fearful and understanding gaze was all he got in return. Now that he was awake, he wished to dull the pain for him as much as possible, so he called to Frodo to get the heated water, which had somehow managed to keep upon the fire during their battle, and bring it over. He asked Legolas to bring him his bag, and soon he had both water and bag. Pulling some leaves out of a small, tan packet, he soaked them into water, and had Pippin drink it, saying it would dull the pain. Gratefully, the hobbit took his first drink with the elf's help, and making a face, quickly finished it off.
Minutes later, satisfied that the herb had taken as much effect as it possibly could, he explained to Pippin what he and Legolas were to do. Fearful as Pippin was of the pain, he trusted both with his life, and simply nodded, closing his eyes. He only winced, and held back a cry while Legolas swiftly broke off the shaft in the back, only leaving enough to be able to push through so that Aragorn could pull from the front.
Barbed as the arrow was, both knew that the poison was seeping into the little one's body, even as they waited, but neither wished to cause him anymore pain. Both were surprised when they heard his raspy, pain filled voice plead, "Please."
Needing no more, their gazes met over Pippin's head, and soon the hobbit found himself on his knees, with Legolas behind and Aragorn to his front. He tried to relax as he felt them maneuver around him. He whimpered as he felt Legolas place his hand on the shaft.
Across camp, Sam, Frodo, and Merry watched in horror as they saw what the two had to do to poor Pippin, feeling sick. Merry began to tremble, and Gimli held him close, worried that he might run to his friend's aid, distracting the two healers. Boromir looked away, having seen this done before, in the battlefield.
Before he could think anymore of it, Legolas nodded to Aragorn and shoved the arrow straight through the hobbit's body, as steadily and forcefully as possible. As soon as it appeared through the little one's chest, the man grasped it and continued it along its path, pulling it the rest of the way through, and free of the hobbit's flesh.
The scream of pure anguish that ripped forth from the hobbit could have made even the orcs fear the same agony.