Something Vague
Chapter seven

A/N: Thank you everyone for your reviews. It really helps to keep things going when I feel somewhat stuck with this story. After this chapter, there is only going to be one chapter (possibly two) left. I would like to make it longer but Frodo goes off on his own, which means his observations about Aragorn and Legolas comes to an end. Thanks for sticking with this story (I know my absence was pretty long). Now, my only trouble is figuring out to end this on a sad or a happy note. Also, this is inspired more by the book than the movie.

We quietly march until night fall. Aragorn had long ago began ignoring Merry and Pippin's request for second breakfast but now, we push foreword without breakfast at all. Even Gimli mutters about the rumbling in his stomach. Not to be caught complaining, he quickly saves himself with a story of traveling four days without so much as a scrap of bread. Gimli's story seem to satisfy his yearning for food but it does little to ease the stomach of the rest of our company.

Aragorn glances behind us. His features are grim. "We must quicken our pace," it's a quiet remark, not quite an order. "Legolas," he says louder. "Fall back. If you sense something, don't hesitate to shoot."

Legolas nods. He is straining to pick up on the source of Aragorn's worry but seems unable to detect anything. Perhaps stress has finally began eating away at our leader. Without questioning him, however, Legolas brings his bow to his side and allows the others to pass him.

Sam comes closer to me. Aragorn's anxiety seems to be rubbing off him. He is clutching the straps of his pack tightly. "Mr, Frodo," he says, keeping his voice hushed. "If anything should happen, run."

"Sam-"

"Don't look back," he says. He doesn't look at me when he speaks. His voice is even but he swallows hard, trying to keep him emotions at bay.

I have feared this conversation. Long ago, Gandalf told me that the Ring was more important than the safety of the fellowship. No matter what happened, I was to seek safety. I promised Gandalf I would. It's a promise I'm not sure I'll be able to keep. I have dark visions of fell beasts swarming upon us like bees. From land and the trees they run at us. Hundreds of black creatures. Aragorn and Gimli become overpowered. Boromir falls and they break Legolas' bow before he can take many down. We are defenseless. One of the creatures yells to find the Ring and I helplessly watch as they drag Merry, Pippin, and Sam away. How am I supposed to sit idly and watch as my friends are pulled to their deaths?

"Frodo," Sam says, almost demanding my attention.

I can't find the words to answer him so I nod.

"Very well then," he says. Sam doesn't leave my side but he doesn't say anything for the remainder of our walk.

It's well past midday before we come to a stop. Aragorn looks more relaxed but there is still a tension in him that is undeniable. He maneuvers us next to a side of a mountain. The walls are too steep for an enemy to climb down and it offers us a temporary wall of protection. Aragorn gives no orders to keep quiet or to stay close. Whatever was troubling him earlier must have departed. Taking advantage of their freedom, the hobbits search the outskirts of camp, looking for anything they might snack on. When their search fails, they return to their packs hoping to find something they missed. Gimli throws them a bag. Sam looks inside and his face lights up.

"It's what's left from Lorien," Gimli warns. "Don't go eating it all before morning comes."

They quickly nod their head. Gimli gives them a knowing eye and decides to keep watch over the rations as the hobbits quickly start going through it. Legolas and Aragorn take a seat a few feet away from the fellowship. They are close enough to act is something should happen but far enough away to have a hint of their own privacy.

Legolas inspects every arrow is his quiver. Slowly, he presses down on the shaft and on the arrowhead, looking for any sign of weakness. When he is satisfied with his arrows, he places them back in his quiver. Those that need tending, he leaves by his side. The archer is running low on arrows and may soon have to rely upon his knives. Though, truth be told, I've often expected him to run out of arrows and to this day, he still carries a decent amount in his quiver.

Aragorn sharpens his sword with a rock he has carried with him since Rivendell. "Be mindful of your targets," he says. His gaze remains on his sword, carefully looking down the blade.

Legolas doesn't chastise the ranger for questioning his judgment. "I thought I would shoot with my eyes closed," he responds.

Aragorn pauses, then laughs. "And your accuracy would still surpass mine."

"Keep focus on your blade, Master Swordsmen, and I shall do the same." He drops his playful edge. "We must all be careful," he says. "I haven't felt the presence of the enemy so intensely since Moria."

"Felt yes, but I've been unable to gauge their location. It's as though the land in cloaking them from us."

My spirit drops. This is stressful enough without having the enemy at our heels. Unlike the Mines, we can be struck from any direction. There are no walls to protect our backs or crevasses for the hobbits to hide in. I suspect that Aragorn doesn't expect anyone to hide. He armed everyone for a reason. Everyone chose to come and now they must accept their roles. My hand falls onto my sword. Sting has become as ordinary as a pair of trousers. No longer does the sheath irritate my thigh. My hands, however, are still unaccustomed to the feel of metal or the weight of the blade.

"We must be sure to keep them away from Frodo." Legolas says.

Aragorn nods. "I'm afraid he can no longer simply rely upon us for protection."

Legolas smiles. "I forget how easily humans can be distracted," his voice is light again. "I shall watch over Frodo. Just as I shall watch over you. For I recall making a similar oath to you."

"Little good your oath of protection did me," he says in mock anger. "I believe you did more harm to me than any sword or mace ever did."

"Then duty bids me to try harder," Legolas responds.

Aragorn stares at his companion, clearly unsure of what his friend is saying. Slowly, unaware of how to proceed, the ranger says: "That is a duty I would have you follow."

Boromir suddenly crosses my path. Unlike the rest of our company, Boromir doesn't seem to be taking advantage of peace surrounding us. He has grown more silent since our attack at the river. The warrior has adapted a habit of pacing. Occasionally, he will mutter something to himself, but not even Legolas can pick up on his words. Whether it's because they are gibberish or too low to hear, Legolas doesn't say. Aragorn has approached him a few times but has been brushed off repeatedly.

Boromir taps his chin and looks to Aragon. "Why do we not go westward." he calls out. His tone takes everyone away from their merriness. "We can cross into my own land. I know the terrain, we could make great haste."

Aragorn looks to Legolas and seems to sigh before he stands and walks towards the rest of us. "The enemy keeps a close watch over that region." He speaks quickly, as though he is not ready to focus back on our journey. "I would not chance it until Frodo decides the course of our path."

"We will not find a safer path," Boromir insists.

"I would not have us leave yet," Aragorn is firm, but not overly so. "Whatever our path, we need to regain our strength. You're right, we have passed into a dangerous land," he says. "Even more so since we can only guess at the evils lurking around us. Never have beasts walked upon this land but with Minas Tirith no longer secure, the enemy roams freely."

"How the days have turned evil," Boromir says. "We will see Gondor restored." For a moment, I see Boromir, hero of Gondor. His eyes are clear and his smile is genuine. Soon, his eyes darken however and a chill hits me.

"Aye," Gimli agrees. "We will remind any creatures that may pass us the strength and courage of his land." He taps at his axe with a grin.

"It's good to have your spirit, Mast Dwarf." Aragorn says, "But tonight, I insist that you rest."

Aragorn's advice isn't debated. It's decided that we will take watch in pairs. Gimli and Boromir take the first watch. I manage to sleep until I am awoken for my turn. It's with Legolas that I will finish the rest of my night. The night is silent. Not even the sound of animals cuts through the night. Legolas whispers that it's an ill omen. The only sound is of Aragorn turning in his sleep. It's the most restless I have seen him.

"He longs for his city," Legolas says.

I nod. "Gondor was his intended destination. If it wasn't for me, he would be heading towards the city."

"That may be so," Legolas says. "But don't chose a path that was meant for another. The choice between Mordor and Minas Tirith is yours to make. Aragorn will follow you and when the quest is over, he will return to his city of stone."

Legolas lingers on the word, "stone." Gimli would feel more comfortable among the walls of Gondor than Legolas. Legolas doesn't say any more. It dawns on me that this has been plaguing the elf for a long time. Aragorn's return to Gondor is the only end they have to their story. It's a harsh reality. To stay with Aragorn is to submit himself to a world of humans; to live amongst stones and rocks rather than the forest.

Legolas soon continues, "Even when he lived with the Dunadan, he kept watch over this land," Legolas says. "He has never completely been separated from it. It's time for him to step out of the shadows."

"How different his life will be." How different Legolas' life will be. Aragorn will no longer be free to roam the land. His attention tuned into the needs to the White City.

I want to ask what Legolas will do. Will he join Aragorn and forgo his own happiness or will he return to his kingdom and sail with his people. My heart suddenly grieves for him. How unhappy his fate shall be. Aragorn saw a hardened lover but Legolas had foreseen his future and was trying to spare himself pain. I don't know much about death but when Aragorn dies, they will be separated. Not even meeting in the afterlife. Perhaps, it's a fate Legolas is too scared to face.

"The city needs him," I say.

He nods. "Aragorn will make a good king." It's not a lie. Even if Legolas wants it to be.

Legolas seems distant. His mind, no doubt, has traveled to the future. Does he see himself standing besides the future king? Or does he stand with everyone else, silently grieving over a love that could not be.

Aragorn awakens, drawing out conversation to a close. He takes a moment to wake himself up before he approaches us. Sweat lines his forehead but the air around us is chilled. "My mind wanders," he admits as though we questioned him. "A shadow grows in my mind. Something draws upon us but I can't track it."

Legolas nods. "Aye, my spine tingles with warning and yet, nothing comes forth."

"Frodo," Aragorn says. "Draw Sting."

My eyes widen. "Is something upon us?"

"I hope that Sting will be able to tell us."

I pull out my sword. To my dismay, the edges are glowing. "Orcs."

"Aye," says Aragorn. "Near enough for Sting to sense but too far to place."

"They could be lingering across the river," Legolas says.

"Or possible a few scattered spies."

"Either way," says Legolas, "They are hunting us. They haven't caught our sent, or they would be upon us now."

Legolas doesn't have to tell me that a decision must be made soon. We must go south towards Minas Tirith or east to the edges of Mordor. Seven companions are willing to follow me to the dark gates. Seven companions are waiting for me to pick our course. Every one of them has their own desires but only a few have spoken aloud of them. Gandalf would warn me not to make a hasty decision. To ignore the others and focus on what I feel is right. It's hard to weigh out my options when I feel the pressure upon me mounting.

Boromir offers me rest in Gondor. I would be safe there, for a time. Safe from the hosts of the Sauron, that is. The warrior doesn't see the threats that linger near by. I believe Aragorn would have me to go the city, as well. It would be nice to sleep in a bed again. But rest will only hinder my quest. I look at the two men. Both their prides were beaming when they spoke of Mordor. I know what their hearts crave. I have no right to keep them from their desire.

They can't come with me. The pulse in my neck quickens. If they won't leave me, then I must leave without them knowing. Aragorn's voice lingers in the distance but I can't hear him. My focus is on my quickening pulse. The Ring will poison them all, just as it has poisoned Boromir. It will turn their resolve to follow me into bitterness. Without their protection, the hobbits would be put in too much danger. I couldn't ask them to follow me. I wouldn't allow them to follow me. Part of me knew I would have to finish this alone. It's no longer a question, I must leave the fellowship.