This story was inspired by Season One of the television show “Lost”, but no knowledge of the show is required.  This story is your basic "shipwrecked on a perilous island" tale, starring some of our favorite LOTR characters.  (Yes, the thing that crashes is an airplane; AU is AU, after all.)  And this isn’t remotely canon, either for LOTR or “Lost”.  Sam doesn’t necessarily work for Frodo, he’s just his best friend. This plane was a small one, not an airliner with 100 people.  I don’t know why these nine people were on the plane, or where they were going. The story just is... what it is.  I'm just having a wonderful time writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

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Principal Cast:
Aragorn: A resourceful Ranger with a hidden past, possessing profound healing and tracking abilities.
Boromir: A proud young man, certain that his father is already organizing a rescue mission to find him.
Frodo: A hobbit -- perceptive, stubborn, and resilient -- who guards a valuable and magical Ring... which will begin to exert a subtle influence on at least one of his fellow castaways.
Gandalf: A wizard, one of the last of his kind. He suspects that this crash was no “accident”.
Gimli: A Dwarf who is able to use his knowledge of metals to do many things -- including converting what’s left of the airplane into a shelter, and crafting weapons.
Legolas: A compassionate young Elf who can commune with nature.
Pippin: A young and optimistic hobbit, away from home for the first time.
Merry: Pippin’s best friend, expert at organizing supplies and using them to best advantage.
Sam: Frodo’s best friend -- a practical hobbit who will do anything to keep Frodo safe, fed, and protected.

THE ISLAND

Chapter 1 -- Getting Acquainted

How had this happened? One moment the small plane was on course, flying smoothly in a clear sky, and the next... Aragorn turned in a slow circle, but the thick jungle was nearly impenetrable. There was no path or familiar landmark. He needed to get back to the plane (or what’s left of it, he thought grimly) and see if there were any injured. Everything had happened so quickly. Surely Gandalf could tell them what...

“Sir?”

Aragorn looked down to find a halfling standing in front of him. He had never been this close to one before the flight, but Gandalf had told him something of their ways. Innocent but with their own wisdom, practical yet carefree... The wizard had developed a strong interest in the Shire and its inhabitants recently, and Aragorn had begun to wonder why.

“Are you a Ranger? I mean, you’re dressed like one, and all.”

“I am,” Aragorn replied, crouching down.

“You folks know about healing, don’t you? Gandalf says so.”

“I have had some training in the healing arts,” Aragorn responded. He looked the halfling up and down. He was a bit stocky, with brown eyes and light brown hair, and his shirt was bloodstained. “How badly are you injured?”

“Not me, but my friend. Frodo’s hurt, and...” The halfling tugged on Aragorn’s tunic, with a strength that surprised the Man. “Won’t you please come?”

Aragorn nodded, and followed the little one back through the trees. “What is your name, halfling?”

”Sam,” the little one replied. “And we like to be called hobbits, if you don’t mind.”

“I am Aragorn, Sam.” The Man had to walk quickly to keep up with the hobbit, who was trotting quickly and surely through the tangled jungle growth. He followed Sam back to the beach, and quickly surveyed the scene. An Elf and Gandalf were standing together, and the Elf was pointing into the jungle as he spoke. Aragorn wondered if the Elf could speak the Common Tongue, or would need a translator in order to communicate with the hobbits and the Dwarf... assuming, of course, that he wanted to communicate with the Dwarf. Said Dwarf was busy, pulling towards a grassy glade what had to be very heavy pieces of the plane. It looked as if a rough shelter was taking place next to a freshwater spring, for which Aragorn was grateful. A hobbit, well dressed and with hair a bit darker than Sam’s, was assembling blankets, food, and drinks into neat piles, while two other hobbits lay on a nearby blanket. A Man was stalking back and forth, holding his left arm and scowling at the remains of the plane -- but otherwise doing nothing useful.

“Over here, sir,” Sam said, leading the Ranger to the blanket containing the two hobbits. One of them, very young to Aragorn’s eyes, sat up a bit shakily and eyed the big Man with alarm. Someone had wrapped a cloth about his head, and it appeared to Aragorn that he had been crying. Aragorn sat down on the blanket and smiled encouragingly.

“Fear not, young one,” Aragorn said softly. “I will not harm you. I will help, if I can. Just let me see to your friend first.”

“I’m all right,” the young hobbit declared, wiping his eyes. “I’m Pippin. My head just hurts a little. Merry fixed it.”

“Good, good,” Aragorn said, his full attention going to the fourth hobbit. This one was also well dressed, with hair much darker than the others’. He appeared to be about as young as the one called Pippin, with enormous blue eyes that mirrored both pain and fear. Blood was soaking through a shirt wrapped around his right leg, and he looked dangerously pale.

“You must be Frodo,” Aragorn said, keeping his voice very calm and quiet. “I am Aragorn; I am trained as a healer.” Without waiting for permission, he gently unwrapped the makeshift bandage. “Sam,” he said quickly, “I’m going to need fresh water and clean bandages. See if...” He motioned to the hobbit salvaging supplies. “Is that Merry? See if he has located any medical equipment. And my pack should be somewhere around; I have herbs and salves we may need. If it can’t be found, I will take the Elf and search the area for plants that will be useful for healing.”

“His name is Legolas,” Frodo whispered. “We spoke together a little.”

“You speak Elvish, Frodo?” Aragorn asked in amazement. “Thank you, Sam,” he said, accepting the bowl of clean water and a length of bandage material.

“A bit,” Frodo said, wincing as the Ranger began cleaning the deep gash in his leg. “He’s from Mirkwood. Bilbo told us all about...” He closed his eyes. “I’m so dizzy.”

“Shhh,” Aragorn murmured. “There will be plenty of time to talk, later on. Your leg is badly cut, but I do not see any---”

“Ranger,” came a loud, rough voice, “do not use up all your medicines on these halflings. I am also injured.”

“I will see to you shortly,” Aragorn said, carefully wrapping fresh bandages around Frodo’s leg.

“Shortly!” the Man said incredulously. “Do you know who I am?”

“You bear the White Tree upon your tunic,” Aragorn replied. “You are of Gondor.”

“I am Gondor,” the Man declared. “My father is Steward.”

“There now,” Aragorn smiled at Frodo, “that should hold. I will see what I can find to help with the pain.”

“Thank you, sir,” Frodo murmured. “Pippin, are you all right? Where’s Sam?”

“I’m fine,” the young hobbit said tremulously. “Don’t worry about me, Frodo.”

“I’m here,” Sam said, coming back from the salvage pile. “Merry found some pillows.” He gently lifted Frodo’s head and slid a pillow beneath it.

“Let me check you over, Pippin,” Aragorn said. “And Sam, see that Frodo rests, and drinks plenty of water. Luckily, we have an abundance of fresh water nearby. We must guard against---”

“I’m right here, Aragorn,” Frodo interrupted. “You do not need to speak around me.”

Aragorn grinned, glad to see that the hobbit’s spirit was strong. “Quite right. My apologies, Frodo.”

“Sir,” Sam asked, “what happened? Where are we?”

”I do not know,” Aragorn sighed. “Perhaps Gandalf will be able to tell us.”

Aragorn unwound the cloth from around Pippin’s head and looked at the fabric curiously. It was of the finest make, with the White Tree embroidered onto one corner.

“Boromir gave it to me on the plane,” Pippin explained. “He’s really nice, I think he just likes to pretend to be grumpy.”

Aragorn smiled, not surprised that the charming halflings (hobbits, he corrected himself) had brought out a side of the Steward’s proud son that was probably rarely seen. He ran careful fingers through the golden-brown curls; Pippin had a rather large bump on his head, but there was no bleeding. He wrapped the cloth gently around the hobbit’s head once again.

“Are you injured anywhere else, Pippin?” the Ranger asked. “Is Merry hurt?”

“I’m all right, just a little dizzy like Frodo.” Pippin reached out to squeeze Frodo’s hand, and Frodo smiled up at him.

“I’m fine, sir,” Merry said, coming to join them. “Thank you for caring for my cousins. How are they?”

“They both need rest,” Aragorn replied. “I would like to carry them over to that fine shelter the Dwarf is building, and out of the hot sun. May I?” Frodo and Pippin both nodded, and Aragorn lifted Frodo gently. The injured hobbit gasped in pain, and clutched tightly to the Ranger’s tunic. “I will have you settled in a moment, Frodo,” Aragorn said as Sam raced ahead to lay down a blanket. As he approached the shelter, Aragorn nodded at the Dwarf.

“You have done wonders, my friend,” Aragorn said appreciatively. “I am Aragorn, and this is Frodo. And Sam.”

“I am Gimli, son of Gloin,” the Dwarf bowed slightly, and motioned to the makeshift shelter. “I can do little with these fragile metals, but---”

“Little?” Sam asked incredulously. “This is wonderful, sir.” He helped Aragorn settle Frodo onto the waiting blanket. “I didn’t know that any folk were this strong.”

The Dwarf bowed again, then drew Aragorn aside. “Our situation is dire, Aragorn. Do you know where we are?”

“I do not,” Aragorn sighed. “I have one more injured hobbit to bring, then we shall consult with Gandalf.” He brought Pippin over and settled the young hobbit next to Frodo just as the Elf -- Legolas -- joined them. Ignoring the Ranger, Legolas knelt and smiled down at Frodo.

“How do you fare, Frodo?”

“I’ll be fine,” Frodo insisted.

“Does he speak truly?” Legolas looked at Aragorn, and switched to Elvish. “These little ones do not look well.”

“Hmmph,” Frodo muttered, “little ones.”

“I am sorry, Frodo,” Legolas said to him, returning to Westron. “I forgot that you understand my language.” He looked at Sam, puzzled. “Are you well, Samwise?”

“Yes sir,” Sam said, blushing. “I’ve just never been this close to a real Elf before. It’s like a storybook come to life.”

Legolas smiled, then lay a cool hand on Frodo’s forehead. The injured hobbit sighed and closed his eyes, the lines of pain on his face smoothing out a bit.

“I am Aragorn,” the Ranger introduced himself. “Frodo tells me that you are Legolas... of Mirkwood?”

“I am.”

It was obvious to Aragorn that Legolas was uneasy being this close to a Dwarf. But it wasn’t just the presence of Gimli that was causing the Elf distress. Legolas’s eyes kept straying to where the gentle waves met the sand, and wincing as if in pain.

“Are you injured?”

The Elf shook his head. “You have no herbs that can heal my ailment, Aragorn. Do not be concerned.”

“You have not heard the Sea before now,” Aragorn said quietly. “This might be difficult for you.”

“How do you know of that?” Legolas asked in astonishment.

“I was raised in Rivendell,” Aragorn explained. “I know.”

“Rivendell...” Legolas’s eyes grew wide with comprehension. “Then you must be---”

“I am a Ranger, and nothing more,” Aragorn said quickly. “That is all that needs to be said at this time.”

“If you wish.”

“Will you stay with the hobbits?” Aragorn asked. “I wish to speak with Gandalf, then see to the Man of Gondor’s injuries. Perhaps you and I can explore the area soon, and try to discern our whereabouts. There may be game trails, edible fruits, or plants that can assist us.”

“I will.”

Aragorn motioned to Gimli, and he and the Dwarf strode to where the wizard stood alone on the shore, gazing out to Sea.

Legolas, his hand still gently stroking Frodo’s forehead, frowned. With his free hand, he felt Sam’s brow, then Merry’s.

“What are you doing?” Merry asked.

“I wish to determine what is normal for a hobbit,” Legolas explained. “Frodo seems warm.”

“I’m fine,” Frodo insisted again. “Everything needs to just stop spinning.”

“I agree with you,” Pippin sighed, closing his eyes. “Too much spinning.”

“Come on, Sam,” Merry said, exchanging a worried look with Sam. “I salvaged everything I could find -- let’s bring everything under the shelter and start getting organized.” He looked up at the sky and frowned. “We might be in for a bit of weather.”

** TBC **

Thank you so much, everyone, for coming on this unusual journey with me!  It’s fun to ‘stretch’ as a writer and try something as different as this story.  If we can all somehow just accept the premise that there can be an airplane in Middle-earth, the rest should be a breeze.  (To those who have asked, the Fellowship members aren’t directly identiifiable with comparable “Lost” characters, but certain similarities between some of them might pop out from time to time.)

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

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THE ISLAND

Chapter 2 -- Dark Magic

Boromir’s face paled as Aragorn manipulated the dislocated shoulder back into position, but he made no sound.

“You bear pain with great courage,” Aragorn said.

“I am a warrior,” Boromir said, his eyes blazing with pride. “I fear neither pain nor death.” He motioned to the makeshift shelter. “So those are the halflings out of legend,” he remarked. “They are very small and weak, and show their emotions all too readily. They would not last long in battle.”

“Perhaps not,” Aragorn said, strapping the Man’s arm to his chest, “but who can say? Until each person faces their test, their strengths cannot be fully determined. They seem quite resourceful.” He smiled. “Besides, it is good to hear laughter, is it not? And Merry and Sam have shown great initiative in salvaging what they could, working without complaint.” He remembered the cloth Boromir had given Pippin. “The young one, Pippin, is hurt, but not badly,” Aragorn said casually. “I believe he looks up to you.”

“He talks too much,” Boromir grumbled, but a slow smile spread across his face. “He reminds me of my young brother,” he admitted. “Faramir was supposed to be on that plane, but I took the journey upon myself. He thinks with his heart, and my father did not wish this mission to fail.”

“Mission?”

“I was sent to search for something, which my father had heard was to be found in the North,” Boromir said cryptically.

“If your brother thinks with his heart,” Aragorn said with a smile, “then I can see why Pippin would remind you of him. I doubt that this youngster has ever been away from home before.”

“I will visit with the little ones,” Boromir said. “Perhaps they would enjoy a tale or two.”

“I must speak with Gandalf,” Aragorn said, getting to his feet. “Then we must explore the area, and find game. A signal fire should be---”

“To what end?” Boromir asked, puzzled. “My father will soon come for us. He sees far, Aragorn, and nothing escapes his notice. Rescue is already on the way.”

“I hope you are correct,” Aragorn said, “but preparations must be made, in case your father is... delayed.”  He motioned to Gimli, and they walked over to where Gandalf was standing.

“How are the hobbits?” Gandalf asked.

“Pippin has a slight concussion, but should recover quickly,” Aragorn replied. “Frodo’s right leg is badly cut. He is lightheaded from blood loss, and should be watched carefully.”

“More carefully than you know,” the wizard murmured. “Any other injuries?”

“Boromir had a dislocated shoulder, which has been tended; I do not believe that anyone else is hurt.” He grew thoughtful. “Legolas seems to have some healing ability. He was able to ease Frodo’s pain somewhat.”

“I am not surprised,” Gandalf said. “He is of royal blood; his father is King Thranduil.”

“What?” Gimli roared. “The swine who imprisoned my father and cousins? That Elf is his son?”

“Peace, Gimli,” Aragorn said quietly. “The son is not the father. Give Legolas a chance.”

“Gandalf,” Gimli said after a short, fuming silence, “do you know what happened? My memory of the crash is vague.”

“As is mine,” Aragorn said thoughtfully. “It is as if it happened in a dream.”

“Yes, it would seem that way to all of you,” Gandalf replied. “This was no accident.”

“What do you mean?” Aragorn asked in amazement.

“I felt it,” the wizard murmured. “We were brought down... by Dark Magic.”

“Someone brought us here? Who would do such a thing? And how?” Gimli demanded.

“A wizard of my order turned to evil long ago,” Gandalf replied. “His crimes bordered on the unspeakable; he used magic to control, manipulate, create life... none of which are permitted us. I suspect that he is here, on this island. His arm has grown long indeed, to call down a plane from the skies above.”

“But why? Is it because you are with us?” Aragorn asked.

“I do not think it is me he seeks,” Gandalf said grimly, “but another. I can say no more at this time.” He grew silent.

“What of rescue?” Aragorn asked. “We cannot be too far from the western shores of Middle-earth; if we had passed beyond the Bent Seas, the Valar would have stopped us.”

“I agree,” Gandalf nodded. “I believe that we are some distance beyond the Havens. The long-ago drowning of the lands west of Middle-earth left islands, remote and uncharted. This is one of them.” The wizard’s eyes grew remote as he once again peered out to Sea. “I have sent my thoughts out to those who might hear them,” he continued. “Cirdan will send a ship, but it may take a week or more to reach us.”

“More Elves,” Gimli growled. “We will soon be hip deep in them.” He stomped away, muttering to himself.

“Gandalf,” Aragorn ventured, “you say that Saruman used magic to ‘create life’. Do you think he has continued his experiments here, on this island?”

“It is possible,” the wizard agreed. “We must be alert to anything unusual. I will say only that the hobbits must be closely guarded, Aragorn. One of them holds a secret that would give Saruman power beyond imagining. We cannot let anything happen to them. I cannot say what beasts or forces Saruman will send to retrieve his prize, but I have no doubt...” The wizard’s countenance grew grim. “They are coming.”

*~*~*~*~*

As the sun grew low in the sky, the Company sat around the campfire. Dark clouds spoke of possible storms to come. The most perishable foods from the plane were to be eaten first, and Sam had surprised everyone (except for Frodo) at his ability to prepare the dull airline fare into a tasty supper. Frodo had little appetite, and although Aragorn did not see that the injured leg had grown worse, the hobbit had developed a fever and was restless.

After supper, Gandalf found a chance to speak with Frodo alone.

“Gandalf,” Frodo whispered at once, “what are we going to do?”

The wizard took the hobbit’s hand and gazed into the frightened blue eyes. “You must keep it secret and safe, as always,” he said quietly. “Very few know that the Ring has been found, or kept in your family for all these years.”

“I’m glad I told Sam about it,” Frodo said. “It’s a dreadful secret to keep alone.”

“I have no fear that Sam will ever betray you, Frodo,” the wizard smiled.

“Nor will Merry and Pippin,” Frodo said tentatively.

“They know as well?” Gandalf asked in amazement.

“They... found out. But I’d trust them with my life, Gandalf. They don’t know what the Ring is, or can do, but they know it’s a secret.”

“Very well,” the wizard sighed. “See that they do not speak of it, especially to Boromir.”

“They won’t,” Frodo assured him. “Don’t you like Boromir? He sat with us earlier and told us stories of his home. His manner is rough, but I believe him to be a kind and good Man.”

“He is a Man,” the wizard said gravely. “That is danger enough.”

“So is Aragorn.”

“Aragorn is... very special,” Gandalf said with a secret smile. “If there is anyone with whom I would trust with your welfare, besides your fellow hobbits, it would be he.”

Frodo moved his leg experimentally, and winced. “I want to walk around and explore,” he complained. “I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Gandalf smiled at him. “Do not be hasty, my friend. Let the healing process take its course.” He felt the warmth in the small hand he held, and knew that the hobbit’s fever had risen further.  He gazed into the jungle with concern; could something --or someone -- on this island be already at work, sapping Frodo’s strength?

*~*~*~*~*

The storm that night was unlike anything they had seen before.  In a single moment, it seemed, the skies opened up and rain fell in solid sheets.  The shelter Gimli had seemingly pulled together haphazardly turned out to be watertight, and guarded the companions against the worst of the wind.  Everyone congratulated the Dwarf on a job well done; even Legolas nodded his head, although Elf and Dwarf had not yet exchanged a single word.

Merry’s foresight in bringing the salvaged goods under the shelter was also praised, as was Sam’s cooking under such conditions as they now found themselves.  This might be a disparate group, Gandalf thought to himself, but each has his own gift, and is willing to share it. 

Despite his fever, or perhaps because of it, Frodo slept deeply for most of the night, waking only once.  Toward dawn, he cried out and sat straight up, looking about wildly.

“What is it?” Gandalf asked, kneeling next to him.  Frodo, gasping for breath, paled as the pain in his leg shot through him.  He leaned heavily against Gandalf.

“Something... something’s coming,” Frodo whispered, his eyes huge with fear.  He stared into the storm, trying to pierce the dark rain curtain.

“Tell me,” Gandalf encouraged him.  He was aware that Sam and Boromir, at least, had been awakened by the cry, and lay listening.

“I couldn’t see it,” Frodo said, “but I knew it was big... so big, Gandalf.  And it... it saw me.  It wanted...”

“That’s enough,” the wizard said softly.  He gave Frodo a drink of water and settled the distraught hobbit comfortably against his chest.  “Try to go back to sleep, if you can.”  He talked quietly and calmly until Frodo’s eyes closed, and he slid back into sleep.

“A nightmare,” Boromir said.  “And why not, after what we have been through?”

“It’s more than that, sir,” Sam told him.  “Frodo’s had strange dreams for most of his life.  He... he knows things before they happen.”

“A seer?” Boromir frowned.  “Are there such among the Shirefolk?  There are few among my people; my brother has dreams and visions, although our father has discouraged him from speaking of what he sees.”

“Frodo is uniquely gifted,” Gandalf said quietly, and Sam nodded in agreement.  “We would do well to be alert.”  He wondered if he should tell Aragorn, at least, about the Ring, and the danger Frodo was in -- and that might be drawn to the Company before rescue could arrive.

** TBC **

Ainu Laire:  Omigosh, my “goods to the realm”!  That sounds wonderfully fancy.

angelsflame265:  Isn’t “Lost” creative and fun?  I couldn’t resist playing around with it.

apsenniel:  I hope you’ll be pleased with the amount of Aragorn in this story.

Arrow:  Thank you so much for highlighting that line of Boromir’s in Chapter 1 -- that’s one of my favorite lines!

Dayna:  Thanks, Dayna!  And I didn’t mean to imply that Frodo and Pippin are the same age -- what I said in Chapter 1 was that Frodo “appeared” to Aragorn to be “about as young as the one called Pippin”.  And in canon, Frodo only looks 33, a few years older than Pippin’s 28.

dshael:  Thank you so much for reading.  I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

Elven Kitten:  You’re so sweet!

esamen:  I’m honored that you trust me to lead you into believable AU universes!  (And trust me, Boromir will be anything but ‘comic relief’; his character will go through a lot of changes in chapters to come.)  “Nothing like a pale brow, luminous blue eyes and a need for bandages to make a fic fun to read.” -- Could I love that more?  I hope your holiday season was a joy.

Galidea:  Omigosh, I’m someone’s hero!  Thanks so much for coming along on this adventure, and I’ll try not to disappoint.

Giu:  Yes!  I finally am able to see where this is going, and know that it will be a ‘complete’ story.  That’s the only way I’m comfortable posting it “officially”.

Grey Wonderer:  It’s such a joy to share a story.  I’m so glad you’re along for the journey!

harrowcat:  AU’s can be wonderful fun as long as the characters remain “in character”.  I’ll try to do a good job!

Hobbit Lass21:  And here’s “more” for you!  I’ll try to update as often as possible.

Jango19999:  I’ve been writing LOTR fanfiction for several years, and nearly all of it is “family friendly”.  Thank you for the vote of confidence.

Kathira:  I like the idea of us all having “serious fun” with this tale.  Hopefully I can keep everyone in character while crafting a readable, believable AU story.

Kekelina:  You won’t find that all the characters directly correspond to a “Lost” character, but it’s fun putting in little touches here and there.

laer:  Glad you’re enjoying this!  I hope to update as frequently as possible.

Leah:  Thanks for reading, Leah!  What fun to share a new story.

lindahoyland:  Isn’t it intriguing to put the Fellowship in a totally new environment, and see what happens?  It’s scary and challenging, and fun to write.

matrixelf:  “Lost” is so captivating, I couldn’t wait to attempt a believable LOTR story inspired by it.  I hope you continue to enjoy it!

Maura Labingi:  I rarely watch TV (no time!), but “Lost” is my new favorite.  And it’s very inspiring for fanfiction, as I’ve found out!

moonlit-leaf:  I’m glad you’re enjoying this, so far.

my-fool-of-a-took:  Shouldn’t there be some law against “Lost” going on hiatus?  It should be on every day... er, I mean every week.  I hope my little story can help ease our withdrawal a bit.

Mysterious Jedi:  That’s exactly the theme of this story -- if the Fellowship met and faced dangers in a completely different circumstance, what would be the same?  What might be different?

Nimrodel:  As you can see, Boromir isn’t too badly hurt!  Thank you for reading.

Nina the powerwriter:  “Lost” is very cool.  And very inspiring.

Pearl Took:  This certainly is a departure for me.  It’s fun to try something so different.

pipinheart:  Thank you!  I hope you continue to enjoy this.

PlatinumRoseLady:  Eeeee, I rock!  Thank you!  And stay tuned for some interesting character and plot developments for Boromir.

QuinlanRamsey:  Thank you for so much enthusiasm!  I’m definitely having a wonderful time writing this rather unusual story.

Raven Aorla:  First of all, thank you so much for all your recent reviews.  You don’t have an e-mail address listed with ff.net, so I couldn’t respond and say “thank you”.  I’m so pleased you’re enjoying this -- AU’s can be quite captivating, as long as we keep the characters “in character” and simply put them in a new situation.

RogerGamgee:  I watched episode 1 of “Lost” to see what Dom was like in a different role, and was instantly hooked.  Thank you for the vote of confidence on this rather unusual story.

Scifi Kane:  Thanks for coming along with me on a new adventure!

smalldiver:  People who have seen “Lost” will recognize little references to the show, but I truly don’t believe that any knowledge of “Lost” is required to enjoy the story.  (And Boromir’s character will undergo some surprising turns as the story unfolds.)

TwigCollins:  I do feel “very brave”!  This type of story is a real departure for me.

Vilya0:  Here we go with a whole new story!  (And I definitely think Aragorn-Jack is a reasonable assumption.)

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

THE ISLAND

Chapter 3 - A Fellowship Forms

Pippin had been frightened by the intensity of the storm, and only Legolas’s soft singing had lulled him to sleep. When he awoke, it was late morning, and everyone except for Frodo was up and about, doing different tasks.

“How do you feel?” Aragorn asked. “You slept long and well.”

“Better,” Pippin replied. “Not nearly as dizzy.” He sat up and looked around, truly alert to his environment for the first time since the crash. Puzzled, he counted the people he could see. “Aragorn, where’s Hal?”

“You speak of the pilot?”

Pippin nodded.

“I am sorry, little one,” Aragorn said quietly. “He did not survive. We buried him with honor.” He took something out of a pocket and handed it to the young hobbit. “Merry told us of your friendship with him, and thought you might like to keep this.”

Pippin clutched the golden pin tightly, tears obscuring his vision of the wings engraved with the pilot’s name – Hal Barad.

*~*~*~*~*

Late that afternoon, Gimli looked up from the bejeweled chess set he had retrieved from his baggage to find Merry next to him, studying the board intently.

“It is called chess,” the Dwarf said in a friendly manner. “Do you wish to learn?”

“Should we warn Gimli?” Frodo whispered to Pippin. He still felt weak and dizzy, but restless with the enforced confinement. At his request, Legolas had brought him all the maps and logbooks that could be found, and Frodo sat in the shelter, protected by the sun, studying them.

“Warn him?” Legolas asked.

“Merry has been Shire chess-champion five years running,” Pippin said with a grin.

“I see. Let us not interfere,” Legolas counseled. “Perhaps the arrogance of Dwarves will be cut down a bit this day.”

“It’s hardly fair not to---”

Frodo’s words were cut short by a sudden loud, frightening noise, coming from the jungle. Pippin grabbed his hand, and Sam was instantly at Frodo’s side.

Gandalf leaped to his feet and strode toward the sound, his staff in hand. Boromir, Merry, Gimli, and Legolas rushed to the wizard’s side, while Aragorn ran to where the luggage had been piled. Quickly locating a long, well-padded case, he withdrew a glittering sword and joined the wizard.

“A sword!” Pippin gasped. “How did they let him on the plane with such a weapon?”

“Do you see anything?” Gandalf asked Legolas.

“No,” the Elf frowned. “I sense malevolence, and evil intent... but I see nothing, nor can I discern what is there. What do you---” He suddenly gasped and staggered slightly.

“What is it?” Aragorn asked, concerned.

“Something just probed our thoughts,” Gandalf muttered. “It was very subtle and quick.”

All at once the jungle grew silent, and Legolas relaxed. “It is gone,” he murmured.

“Where did you get that?” Boromir suddenly said. He grabbed Aragorn’s hand and stared at the sword the Ranger held. “I have seen a sword such as this in portraits in Minas Tirith, and the songs say that...” His eyes narrowed in rage. “What else have you stolen, Ranger?”

“Boromir,” Gandalf said quietly, “He did not---”

“I can defend myself, Gandalf,” Aragorn said. He sheathed the sword and faced Boromir. “It is mine by right of inheritance, and came to me through my father, and his, back to Isildur himself.”

“You?” Boromir snorted in disbelief. “You do not resemble the kings of old. Where are your proofs?”

“They lie in my blood,” Aragorn replied. “I am no thief, Boromir, but neither am I a king. I am, as you say, a Ranger.” He turned and went to ensure that Frodo, Sam, and Pippin were safe. He found Pippin and Sam trying to restrain Frodo, who was trying to struggle to his feet.

“Aragorn,” Frodo said desperately, “we’re not alone. We have to get out of here. It knows I’m...” His strength suddenly gave out, and he sagged weakly, barely conscious. Aragorn caught him and lay him down gently as the others rushed over.

“Gandalf,” Sam said urgently, “Frodo’s not safe here. What can we do?”

The wizard sighed. “We have to tell everyone, Sam. It’s the only way to protect him.”

“Tell us what?” Boromir asked.

“There is someone on this island who greatly desires something that Frodo possesses,” Gandalf addressed the group. “He is in danger, and we must do what we can to keep him safe. Something is coming.”

“What could a hobbit possess that would bring such malevolence toward him?” Gimli asked.

“The crash was no accident,” Gandalf said slowly. “A dark wizard once of my order brought down the plane because he sensed that what he has long desired was aboard. He will stop at nothing to get it.” He took a deep breath. “Frodo is guardian of the One Ring, long thought lost.”

Gimli’s eyes widened, and Aragorn and Legolas looked thoughtful. The three hobbits huddled protectively around Frodo.

“A sword out of legend and the One Ring, here amongst us?” Boromir muttered. He stared at Frodo. “Show us this Ring,” he demanded.

With a great effort, Frodo sat up, trembling, holding onto Merry and Sam for support. “For 17 years I have kept it hidden,” he said to Boromir, eyes blazing, “and hidden it will stay.”

Aragorn stepped closer, his hand on his sword hilt. “No one will take it from you, Frodo, while I draw breath.”

Boromir stood tall and gazed calmly at the Ranger. “Aragorn, you said you are no thief,” he said, “and neither am I.” He looked down at the injured halfling. “Forgive me, Frodo, if I frightened you. How came you by the One Ring?”“Gandalf, tell us what you can,” Legolas said quickly, kneeling next to Frodo. He was alarmed, as was Aragorn, by the hobbit’s pallor. “Do not exert yourself, Frodo,” the Elf murmured, laying a hand on the hobbit’s brow, still warm with fever. As before, the Elf’s touch seemed to ease him, and Frodo relaxed and leaned against Sam.

“Frodo’s cousin, Bilbo, found the Ring many years ago,” Gandalf explained simply. He looked at Gimli. “You have heard, son of Gloín, of Bilbo Baggins?”

”Of course,” Gimli said, astonished. “You are kin to the famous burglar?” he asked Frodo, who nodded. “My family’s fortunes stem in large part from your cousin’s courage and resourcefulness,” he said with a bow. “No harm will befall you while I live.”

“A ring of power must not fall into the hands of one who would wield it with evil intent,” Legolas said firmly. He rose to his feet, and moved to stand next to Gimli and Aragorn. “We will safeguard you, Frodo,” he promised.

“Frodo Baggins,” Boromir murmured. “This explains much. Aragorn, do you recall that I told you my father sees far, and sent me to search in the North for something of great value?”

“I do.”

“It was ‘Baggins’ I was sent to find.” All four hobbits looked startled. “Baggins,” Boromir continued, “in a land called Shire.” He looked thoughtfully at Frodo, then seemed to make up his mind. “I would defend weaker folk against peril no matter what the circumstance,” he declared, moving to stand with the Ranger, Elf, and Dwarf. “Gondor will not fail you, Frodo Baggins.”

“Thank you all,” Frodo said gratefully.

Pippin looked at Aragorn, then whispered something to Merry, who nodded. “Go ahead and ask him,” Merry urged.

“Ask me what, little one?” Aragorn asked with a smile.

“Your sword,” Pippin said, “why did they let you board with it? Or... are you smuggling weapons?” he asked eagerly.

Aragorn laughed at the hobbit’s bold question. “Nothing so exciting,” he replied. “I am a Ranger, Pippin. This badge...” He showed them the silver star pinned beneath a fold of his cloak. “...identifies me as someone authorized to go armed anywhere I travel. I was guarding some very valuable cargo.”

“What, sir?” Sam asked.

“It no longer matters,” Aragorn sighed. “It was not among the baggage or salvaged goods. When the plane broke apart, it was no doubt lost in the Sea.” He looked down at Frodo with concern. “I am going to make you some tea for pain, Frodo. Will you take it?”

Frodo exchanged a look with Sam, who nodded.

Aragorn laughed. “I am thankful you approve of me, Sam.”

“Sam can sense a person’s quality,” Frodo explained. “I have never seen it fail.”

“Gandalf,” Aragorn said thoughtfully, “if this island was once part of the drowned lands of the Sea Kings, there may be a very special plant growing here that I can use. It would aid Frodo a great deal.”

“Let us explore this jungle together, Aragorn,” Legolas said. “While you search for your plant, the trees may be able to tell me things about the disturbance we heard -- and felt -- that they would not tell another.”

“Talk to your plants,” Gimli snorted, “for all the good it will do. I need to make myself a sturdy axe, and discover what game is to be found. And perhaps I can fashion other weapons...” He stalked off, muttering, leaving a surprised Company in his wake.

“I think those are the first words he’s spoken to you, Legolas,” Sam observed.

“I never met a Dwarf before,” Pippin added. “He’s nice, isn’t he, Legolas?”

Legolas sighed. The Dwarf was indeed proving distressingly difficult to hate.

“Gandalf,” Merry said suddenly, “our food won’t last. I’m going to take Pip and do some fishing.”

“Stay close to the shore,” Aragorn advised them. “The surf can be treacherous.”

*~*~*~*~*

“I haven’t fished in years,” Pippin said, frowning in concentration. He suddenly thrust his long, sharpened stick into the surf, and held it up, triumphant. A large fish wriggled at the end of his makeshift spear.

“You always were better at fishing than I was,” Merry laughed. “I remember the time... that time when…”

“Which time?” Pippin asked. He quickly made his way to where Merry was staring straight down into the water. “What is it? What do you see?”

“It’s so beautiful,” Merry said, his voice distant. He flung himself into the water and disappeared, then emerged holding something in both hands.

“Oh!” Pippin gasped. “Do you suppose this is what Aragorn was looking for?”

”It’s mine,” Merry whispered, clutching the strange object. “I found it.” He gazed deeply into the gently pulsating globe, and went very still.

“Merry?” Pippin asked anxiously. “What are you looking at?”

“Meriadoc Brandybuck!” Gandalf’s voice boomed out as the wizard hurried up to them. “Give that here, my lad.”

Merry reluctantly handed the globe to the wizard, who hastily covered it with a cloth and walked away.

“Come on, Merry,” Pippin said. “I’ll bet I can catch more fish than you.”

“I’ll be right with you,” Merry said absently. He found himself watching closely as the wizard hurried up the beach and handed the globe to Aragorn. “I just want to see where they put it.”

“What’s the difference?” Pippin asked impatiently.

Merry suddenly shook off the fog in which his mind had been wrapped, and realized that he was soaking wet. He shook his head so that the water in his curls flew all over Pippin. “What are you just standing there for, you silly Took?” he grinned. “We have fish to catch.”

** TBC **

angelsflame265:  Thank you!  Boromir’s role will be very interesting in this story, I hope.

Elven Kitten:  I’m so tickled by the concept of planes in Middle-earth.  I should think up the name of some airline...

esamen:  I never dreamed anyone would ever compare this to BCOP!  Wow, what a compliment.  I’ll try to keep the standard high.

Galidea:  “The special contributions each one can make, no matter how small” is one of my favorite themes from LOTR (and movies like “The Goonies”).  Everyone needs to feel valued and that their gifts are of use.

Julia:  Thank you for reading!  It’s fun to put LOTR and “Lost” together and see what happens.

Lackwit:  It wasn’t easy for me to suspend disbelief about the plane, either!  But this story idea just wouldn’t leave me alone.  Even within such an extreme AU, I’m trying to keep the characters “in character”.

LaughingBrook:  I love it when folks highlight a line or two that they particularly like.  Thank you!

lindahoyland:  It’s so fascinating to put our characters in a brand-new setting, and just see what happens.

Little Mouse:  Hi, old friend!  I’m happy for you that your toughest semester is now in the past.  I suppose our brave band hasn’t officially left Middle-earth, but I’ve certainly taken them pretty close to the edge!

lovethosehobbits:  I never thought I’d be writing a story so unusual, but when the Muse attacks, it’s best to “go with the flow” and see what happens!

Maura Labingi:  This story won’t mirror “Lost” as much as it was just inspired by the premise.  I find it interesting to put our Fellowship in a very different situation and just see what develops.

mirthor:  Without revealing too much, I think you’re going to be very pleased with Boromir’s character development and -- eventual -- fate.  You’ll have to be patient, though, as there’s still much for him to learn about himself and the others, and it won’t be an easy path.

my-fool-of-a-took:  I hope “Lost” gets to Australia soon!  But in the meantime, I’ll update as often as possible.

Philomythus:  These are two of my favorite things, as well!  What fun to combine them.

PlatinumRoseLady:  You sweetie.  I’ll try to keep things interesting!

Raven Aorla:  You always say the loveliest things.

Roger Gamgee:  This is a wild ride, especially for me!  Balancing book, movie, TV, and my own story idea is quite a challenge.  I didn’t start out with any specific “Lost” character parallels (except maybe for Aragorn and -- as you’ll see -- Merry), but little similarities here and there do keep slipping in!

Sapphire Took:  Whee, confetti!  Thank you!

Scifi Kane:  ... and sis!  Thank you -- I’m trying hard to keep the characters “true”, no matter what setting they may find themselves in.

Vilya0:  Happy New Year to you!  Wherever this story takes us, I’ll at least try to keep the storyline logical and true to the LOTR characters.

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

THE ISLAND

Chapter 4 - Unseen

By the time Aragorn returned to the clearing where he had left Legolas, the Elf had opened his eyes, one hand gently touching the bark of an enormous tree.  He whispered something to the tree, then turned to the Man.

“What did it tell you?” Aragorn asked curiously.

“This island is indeed part of an ancient land,” Legolas said, coming to where Aragorn waited. “The trees have slept, at peace and undisturbed, for a long span of years -- until recently.” He looked grim. “Something stalks this jungle -- not evil in itself, but a servant of evil.”

“What does it look like?”

Legolas shook his head. “The trees cannot discern either form or substance. It walks unseen.”

“Invisible?” Aragorn frowned. “What manner of creature has this ability?”

“I know not,” Legolas sighed. “Perhaps the wizard of whom Gandalf spoke has learned to shroud this creature from the sight of others.”

“It may walk unseen, but it does have form and substance,” Aragorn said grimly. “It leaves tracks such as I have never seen before. Their size is beyond my experience.”

Legolas looked down at the Ranger’s hand. “You found your plant?”

“Yes.” Aragorn gently tucked the long, vibrant leaves he held into the pouch at his belt. “Athelas, it is called. It grows in rare patches in Middle-earth, brought to that land by those who once lived here.”

“It has a sweet fragrance. What are its properties?”

Aragorn smiled. “You will see. Let us return to camp.”

*~*~*~*~*

The Company, less Ranger, Elf, and Dwarf, sat together under the shelter, protected from the heat of the afternoon sun. Airline seats and cushions had been arranged in as large and comfortable a circle as possible.

“Sam, you said you trusted Aragorn,” Frodo said.

“I do,” Sam replied. “There’s naught to fear from him. I just want to check things for myself, if you don’t mind.”

Frodo smiled indulgently as Sam unwrapped the bandages around his injured leg. Throughout their long friendship, Sam had walked at his side, keeping his secrets and looking out for him. More than a friend, he thought, but the brother I never had.

Sam frowned as the last layer of cloth was removed.

“What’s wrong?” Frodo asked, alarmed.

“Not a thing,” Sam replied, “you’re healing well. I don’t see any swelling or... anything bad.”

“You don’t sound very pleased,” Frodo teased him as Sam re-wrapped the leg.

“You’ve got me a mite worried,” Sam admitted. “You shouldn’t have a fever, Frodo. There’s just no reason for it.”

“I can’t say that I’m feeling that well,” Frodo admitted, “but I’m sure there’s nothing seriously wrong. We were all very lucky not to have sustained worse injuries.”

"You'd better check Merry next, Sam," Pippin suggested with a grin. "He's been acting a little odd."

"I'm fine," Merry said hastily. “Have you learned anything, Frodo?” He pointed to the maps and logbooks scattered around.

“Nothing good,” Frodo sighed. “There are islands charted off the western coast,” he said, pointing to one of the maps, “but our course wouldn’t have taken us anywhere near them. It’s impossible to say exactly where we are.”

“It’ll be all right,” Pippin said reassuringly. “Gandalf said that the Elves would have a rescue ship here in a week, and it’s been two days already.” He looked up into the nearby trees. “Is that fruit?” He jumped up and raced off.

“That youngster is certainly adjusting well to our situation,” Boromir chuckled.

“It’s a trait of his family,” Merry explained. “The Tooks seem to thrive on adventure and the unknown.”

*~*~*~*~*

Aragorn and Legolas returned at about the same time as Gimli. The Dwarf, looking very pleased with himself, dragged into camp a young boar he had killed.

“You’ll not starve, young hobbits,” he declared. “My father and cousins told me many tales, including how much a hobbit can eat if given a chance.”

“That’s wonderful,” Sam said appreciatively. “All we need's a roasting pit, and I can feed everyone good and proper. We salvaged a wonderful lot of spices from the galley...” He looked at what was left of the fuselage and sighed. “... and there are plenty of herbs we can---”

“And we won’t let you starve either, Gimli,” Pippin interrupted, pointing to where a cache of smoked fish and fresh fruits lay nearby.

“Well done,” the Dwarf nodded approvingly.

“Merry helped,” Pippin said generously.

"We're glad you're back," Sam said to Aragorn and Legolas. "I've got some water heating for tea."

“Aye, you were gone a long time,” Boromir added. Aragorn wondered if the Gondorian had believed that he and Legolas had abandoned them and would not return.

“What have you learned?” Gandalf asked.

“We found tracks so large...” Aragorn frowned. “I cannot explain it.”

“The trees are uneasy,” Legolas added quietly. “Frodo’s dream was a true one; the sound we heard was made by something of vast size, and which cannot be seen. It is shrouded -- perhaps Shadowed -- by one who wishes its presence to frighten and confuse us.”

“Gandalf,” Frodo said suddenly, “If that... thing exists in Shadow, I might be able to see it, if it returns.”

“No,” said the wizard instantly. “If you enter the Shadow world, the creature -- and its master -- will be able to see you.”

“But we need to know what we’re up against,” Frodo insisted. “Besides, it can see me already. Or... well, something can. In my dream, there was an Eye looking right at me.”

“How can Frodo see this creature when we cannot?” Boromir asked, puzzled.

Aragorn's attention was caught by how pale and weak Frodo still appeared. His healer's heart overriding everything else, he knelt next to Frodo, smiling at the trust he saw in the remarkable blue eyes.

"Frodo," the Ranger said, "I have found a plant that should ease you greatly. Since Sam has water heating, this would be a good time to---”

Legolas suddenly went very still, every sense on alert. “Something approaches,” he whispered. “The trees murmur in fear.”

Pippin looked at Merry, wide-eyed, as the ground trembled slightly beneath them. A sudden crashing and bellowing echoed through the jungle. As Aragorn leaped to his feet and drew his sword, Gimli picked up one of his makeshift spears and tossed a second to Boromir.

“Gandalf,” Frodo said quickly, “this may be our only chance. I know you said to never put it on, but---”

The wizard sighed. “All right.” He knelt and wrapped his arms about the hobbit’s waist. “I do not wish to lose track of you.”

“Do you know what they’re---” Boromir’s words died as he saw Frodo pull a golden ring from the inner pocket of his vest. The gold glittered... beckoned... All eyes were on the hobbit and what he held.

“Isildur’s Bane,” Aragorn whispered.

“You mean to wear it?” Sam gasped. “Gandalf, don’t you let go of him.”

“I will not,” Gandalf promised.

Frodo took a deep breath, then slipped the Ring onto the middle finger of his left hand... and vanished from sight.

The chorus of gasps from the astonished onlookers was broken by Pippin suddenly leaping to his feet and looking around wildly. “Where’s Merry?” he cried.

** TBC **

Arrina:  Actually, Halbarad from the book (a Ranger and one of Aragorn’s closest friends) does die, at the Pelennor Fields, so his death in this story is somewhat canon.  (Unless you’re referring to Haldir?   I agree -- he should never have been killed in the movie.)

Azla:  I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the “modern” concepts in this AU, but it’s a fun challenge to keep everyone “in character” no matter where they are, or what they’re confronted with.

Dayna:  Thanks for your enthusiasm!  I originally envisioned Merry as mirroring Dom’s “Lost” character, and “addiction” to the palantir seemed a likely way to do it -- but more than that, Merry (not Pippin) is the one to look into the palantir because I’m trying to write a plot that, while using the LOTR characters, is fresh and just slightly unpredictable.

Elven Kitten:  Maybe Gwaihir Airlines, or Trans Arda Airlines?  :)

Eregriel Gloswen:  Oh boy, thank you for enjoying this so much.  I was hoping to get out a chapter a week, but sometimes I don’t quite make it; updates will be as frequent as I can manage!

Esamen:  Awww, what a lovely review.  I’m so glad this story stands on its own with no knowledge of “Lost”.  (I was hoping it would, but couldn’t be sure.)  Friendship and commitment to a “quest” transcend everything, especially with this particular group.

Galidea:  Poor Legolas, stranded with a Dwarf!  But I think these two (and all of them) can adapt to any situation.

Julia:  Thank you.  I hope to keep the characters believable, even though they’re in an unlikely situation.

Lackwit:  Rangers are “the law”, wherever they go!

lindahoyland:  It’s interesting to figure out when to weave ‘canon’ (Halbarad, the palantir, etc.) into this story.

lovethosehobbits:  What a joy to have you “along for the ride” on this surreal story.

Maura Labingi:  Thanks, Maura.  Merry just happened to pick up the palantir first -- now we’ll see what happens because of it.

mirthor:  Aragorn may have had the only “true” weapon at first, but with Gimli around, no one will be unarmed for long against... whatever may be out there.

my-fool-of-a-took:  Thanks for enjoying the little twists and turns!

Mysterious Jedi:   Ah, stay tuned for what’s happening with Merry...

Pearl Took:  Yes, the person who picked up the palantir (even in the book) was a matter of chance, I think.  Why not Merry, for a change?  :)

pipinheart:  Glad you’re enjoying the story!

PlatinumRoseLady:  I would rather write dialogue than anything else, so I’m very happy it’s coming across well.  (Thank you for the Peppermint Patty... yum!)

SciFi Kane:  Thank you.  I’m working hard to keep the characterizations believable, even though the situation they’re in is rather UNbelievable!

Shadowfax2931:  I’m not really worrying about a “backstory” (why they were on the plane, where they were going, etc.), but concentrating more on these nine Middle-earth characters meeting, bonding, and facing danger together in an unexpected setting.  Thank you for coming along for “the ride”!

small diver:  Thank you!  I don’t know if this story is “brilliant”, but it sure is fun!  I’m trying to write a believable Gimli, and will try to give him a good role in this story.

Tinwetari:  I’m glad you’re enjoying this.  Why not combine our favorite things and have fun with them both?

Vilya0:  Merry is the one to look into the palantir in this story because I’m trying to write a plot that, while using the LOTR characters, is fresh and just slightly unpredictable.

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

THE ISLAND

Chapter 5 - The Mind of Saruman

This was his chance. With everyone's attention on Frodo, Merry slowly backed away from the group, made his way to the remains of the cockpit, climbed in, and began to search. He had watched Aragorn bring the globe here and leave without it, so it had to be... with a sigh of relief, he spotted the round shape, wrapped in a spare cloak, hidden under the pilot’s seat. He quickly drew it out and sat next to it. He pulled off the cloak. On some level he knew that something unknown was approaching the camp, and that he should be with the others. He knew that Frodo meant to put on the mysterious Ring... and might be in danger. But there was no other thought in his head other than looking into the globe’s depths once again; nothing else mattered.

*~*~*~*~*

Foliage bent and the ground shook, but the Company could discern nothing before them. Suddenly all was silent, and Gandalf felt Frodo start to tremble, the hobbit’s breaths growing short and quick.

“Tell me what you see,” Gandalf urged, but the hobbit did not speak. “Frodo, you must tell me!”

“You are wrong,” Frodo whispered suddenly. “You will have neither the Ring nor me!” Seconds passed, then the wizard felt the invisible hobbit go limp. At the same time, the unseen creature was heard moving back into the jungle from whence it had come, until there was silence once more. Gimli, Aragorn, and Boromir lowered their weapons without ever having seen what had been approaching them.

Quickly, Gandalf found Frodo’s left hand and drew the Ring off the small finger. The hobbit was suddenly visible once more, apparently unconscious. The wizard hastily shoved the Ring back into one of Frodo’s pockets.

Aragorn ran back to the shelter and sat next to the unconscious hobbit cradled in the wizard's arms. “Sam, see if that water’s boiled yet. Quickly!” He pulled one of the fresh leaves from his pouch and whispered something, then crushed it in his hand. Into the steaming pot that Sam carefully set before him, the Ranger dropped the leaf.

“Oh,” Sam whispered. “That smells like...” He took a deep breath of the fresh, living fragrance. “It’s like the Shire on a warm spring morning.”

“Frodo,” Aragorn murmured. “Come back to us, now.” He held the steaming pot near Frodo’s face, and was relieved to see Frodo’s breaths deepen, and color begin to come back into his face. The hobbit’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked about, confused.

“That’s it,” Aragorn said quiely. “Deep breaths...”

“Help!” There was a sudden yell from the direction of the fuselage. “Someone help!”

“That’s Pippin,” Boromir said. He ran towards the remains of the plane with Legolas close behind him. Disappearing into the cockpit, he soon emerged carrying Merry. Legolas followed, leading a shaken Pippin by the hand.

"He was looking into that globe thing," Pippin said, "when he... he..."

“Set him down,” Aragorn said. “Whatever has occurred, this steam might do him good.” Merry’s eyes were open and staring, but he was completely unresponsive as Boromir lay him on the blanket. Pippin sat down between his cousins and Sam, looking frightened, and Gimli and Legolas exchanged puzzled glances. What had happened to Frodo and Merry?

Gandalf knelt at Merry’s head. “I should have realized that this might happen,” he sighed. Then, in a strong voice, he cried, “Meriadoc Brandybuck, come back!”

Merry shuddered and closed his eyes, then slowly opened them as if awakening from sleep. “Aragorn, forgive me,” he whispered, looking up into the Man's eyes.

"There is nothing to forgive," Aragorn said gently.

“You could not help yourself, Merry,” Gandalf said. “We will take better care to conceal the stone from now on.”

“What is happening here?” Boromir burst out. “An invisible creature, an invisible hobbit, and now these two are apparently suffering from trauma of some kind. I demand to know what has occurred!”

“I can tell you some of it,” Frodo said. He felt his pockets for the Ring, then relaxed when he located it. “Merry, are you all right?”

“Yes,” Merry replied. He turned to Pippin, sitting white-faced beside him. “I’m sorry I frightened you, Pip.”

“What did you see, Frodo?” Sam asked. “Why did it leave?”

Frodo turned to Sam with a small smile on his face. “Sam, you won’t believe it... it was an oliphaunt.”

“Truly?” Sam grinned with delight.

“An oliphaunt?” Pippin squeaked in amazement.

“A what?” Boromir asked.

“A story, so I thought,” Frodo explained. Gandalf sat him on the blanket next to Merry. “We have a rhyme, Grey as a mouse, big as a house, nose like a snake, I make the earth shake---”

Aragorn nodded. “They are called Mûmakil in the south, Boromir,” he said. “I thought them to be legend.”

“They exist,” Frodo insisted. “I’ve never imagined any creature so large. A Man was riding upon it as if on a horse. But he wasn’t the one who...” He frowned, trying to remember everything. “The thoughts of another person came through him. The Man was only a servant of someone named Saruman.”

Gandalf sighed. “That is the wizard of whom I spoke. So he is here, as I feared.” He looked at Frodo. “Is it the Ring he desires?”

“Yes,” Frodo replied. “He sensed that I was aware of him,” he continued. “He saw us through some kind of globe, and was using it to project his thoughts through the Man who rode the creature. Such arrogance, Gandalf! He revealed so much to me, believing it made no difference to his plans.”

“Tell us,” Aragorn urged.

“He did this,” Frodo murmured, pointing to his injured leg. “When the plane came down, he used his magic to hurl broken metal toward me. He tried to... to pierce my heart with it,” he whispered.

“To what end?” Boromir asked, appalled.

“He felt...” Frodo looked up at Gandalf. “He believed that if I was injured or killed, the Ring would be revealed.”

"That murderous villain," Sam muttered.

“So this is the source of your fever,” Aragorn said thoughtfully. “The metal shards that pierced your leg carried Dark Magic with them."

“Yes,” Frodo agreed. “He wanted me dead, or too weak to resist when the Ring was taken.”

“But he’s not come to take it,” Sam said, puzzled.

“My thoughts exactly,” Legolas concurred. “If he controls an unseen creature, and has Men to serve him, why have we not been attacked? We would be hard pressed to defend ourselves against an invisible foe.”

“He didn’t think he’d have to,” Frodo said hesitantly. “He said... he had trusted that, by now, the Ring would have been revealed, and someone would have taken it from me and fallen under its spell. Perhaps a Dwarf, out of lust for gold... or a Man, out of lust for power. He was surprised that it had not yet occurred.”

“Nonsense,” Gimli snorted. “I have pledged to protect you with my life.”

“Does he believe Men to be so weak as to betray someone who cannot defend himself?” Boromir asked contemptuously. “I hope to meet this coward in battle.”

"Hobbits may not be warriors, Boromir, but we can defend ourselves at need," Merry said quietly.

“What else did you learn, Frodo?” Gandalf asked.

“He sees our 'alliance' as a fragile one." Frodo looked up at Legolas and Gimli. "Saruman believes that Elves and Dwarves cannot dwell in harmony, and that you will turn on one another."

"Then we will prove him wrong," Legolas declared. "Do you agree, my... friend?" he asked Gimli.

"I do," the Dwarf nodded slowly. "Our fathers found no common ground, but we must."

Frodo smiled, then looked at Gandalf. "He said that you are of no consequence, since you are unwilling to use Power as it should be used."

"He has truly fallen," Gandalf said grimly.

“Perhaps we should consider leaving this area,” Aragorn said unexpectedly. “Legolas and I discovered a cave that would be easier to defend than this open stretch of beach.”

“We cannot!” Boromir frowned. “Your Elvish ship may or may not be coming, Gandalf,” he continued, “but my father is surely on his way. We must remain where we can be seen by rescue.”

“If there is a cave, there may be much I can do to fortify it,” Gimli offered.

“But there’s fresh water here,” Pippin said, confused, “and fish.”

Frodo’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Stop arguing!” Sam glowered at everyone.

“Sam is correct,” Gandalf said. “Saruman wishes for dissention amongst us, above all else. We must not allow ourselves to be split up.”

Frodo suddenly looked weary, and leaned against Sam. "Saruman gloated that he knew the weakness of each of my ‘protectors’, and would draw each of you away until I was alone," he murmured. "He was about to do... something... when he was distracted. I don't know what new thing he saw, but suddenly his thoughts were no longer directed to me, and... everything went black.”

“I believe I know what distracted him,” Aragorn said thoughtfully. He looked at Merry, and everyone’s eyes turned toward the young hobbit.

** TBC **

Arrina:  “Lost” is a television show currently popular in the U.S. which started in September 2004.  It’s about a plane crash on a very mysterious island, with 48 survivors -- all of whom apparently have secrets and mysteries of their own.  Dominic Monaghan (Merry) is one of the stars.  I do apologize for the mean cliffie, and for any mean cliffies yet to come!  Sometimes a chapter just wants to end in one.

Avarwen:  And the invisible ‘thing’ is revealed!  (Unlike “Lost”, where I fear we’re never going to find out what it is.)  Your guesses were really wonderful, and I hope the logic for what’s happening seems reasonable.

Azla:  I am weaving LOTR ‘canon’ into this story, but in (hopefully) fresh and unexpected ways.  And sorry about the cliffies... sometimes chapters just demand to end in those teetering, annoying things!

Beth:  Tiny bits of “Lost” are scattered throughout this story, and when you see the TV episodes, you might recognize where I’ve woven them in.  I would have to put a warning at the top of every chapter for readers to avoid everything.  However, “Lost” is a complex and multi-layered show that will probably run for years -- with mystery piled upon mystery.  My story will be finite (probably less than 20 chapters), with a definite ending.  I don’t think anything I could write could ruin your enjoyment of the show, but you’re welcome to come back to this story after you’ve seen the whole first season of “Lost”, if you don’t want any hints or “spoilers” at all.

Caroly:  Thank you!  Mysterious islands lend themselves to unusual stories.

Cindy:  Glad you’re enjoying the story.  You’ll be appalled to hear that I’ve never seen “24” -- or a lot of other popular shows.  The more fanfiction I try to find time to write, the less TV I have time to watch!

Dayna:  Gandalf heard you; he was very careful not to let go of Frodo.

Elven Kitten:  Your reviews are so enthusiastic, they make me bouncy!

Eregriel Gloswen:  The character similarities to “Lost” are mild at best, but it’s fun finding subtle ways to weave the show into this story.

esamen:  Thank you for your concern.  I’m well and happy -- just way too busy!  (I actually have two new stories I want to start, and no time yet to start them.)  “I always feel like I'm part of a wonderful group of friends when I read a shirebound story” -- what a lovely thing to say.  One of the reasons I started writing fanfiction in the first place was to feel “part of” a creative community, with all the give-and-take and communication we can share with one another.

Fallenangel126:  Merry’s encounter with the palantir was an attempt to bring an “addiction” to his character (as a parallel to Dom’s “Lost” character).  It’s fun to bring a fresh perspective to what the LOTR characters encounter.  I do hope “Lost” appears in the UK (and everywhere else) soon!

Grey Wonderer:  Oooh, no one ever called me ‘tricksy’ before (that I can remember).  What a treat!

Jeff’s favourite skittle:  Thank you so much!  It’s a challenge to blend Middle-earth and modern-earth, and I truly appreciate your enthusiasm.

Julia:  Your guesses were good ones!

Lana:  Yay, thank you!

lindahoyland:  I’m glad this feels “fresh and exciting”.  I don’t know quite what this is, but it sure is fun.

lovethosehobbits:  And I’m having a blast writing it!  Thank you.

ManniElf18:  Thank you!  How wonderful to be able to share this very different type of story.

my-fool-of-a-took:  I’m updating as quickly as I can!  *types furiously*

QuinlanRamsey:  One of the things I love most about LOTR is how such different people bond together to accomplish “the impossible”, each contributing whatever he (or she) has.  I’m thoroughly enjoying bringing those qualities into such a different type of story.  Thank you.

Patty:  I think our dear Samwise should go to work for the airlines, improving their food services!

Pearl Took:  That Merry!  He just had to look, didn’t he?  :)

Pip4:  I didn’t know what would happen with these two very different stories, either!  But apparently you can put our beloved characters in any situation, and they learn to adapt.  :)

PlatinumRoseLady:  Eeee, if you think this is scary, hold onto your hat when I start working on my Barrow-wight story.  I hope to begin posting it next month, if RL cooperates.

Raven Aorla:  Since I haven’t yet written as far as the rescue, we’ll all find out together!

Roger Gamgee:  Thank you!  It’s a challenge to bring the LOTR characters into a totally new environment to keep things fresh and different, and try to weave in bits of “Lost” at the same time. 

sephiroth7:  I appreciate knowing how you feel about my writing and this story, and I hope you’ve moved on to something that you will enjoy reading.  Writers of fanfiction certainly can’t please everyone.  In the future, however, it would be considerate if you could refrain from using profanity in a review of something that’s G-rated, no matter how much you dislike the story.

Shadowfax2931:  I didn’t let Merry wander too far!  I imagine this island to be west of the Grey Havens (the port from which Frodo and the Elves sail at the end of the movie).  In Chapter 2, Gandalf says, “I believe that we are some distance beyond the Havens. The long-ago drowning of the lands west of Middle-earth left islands, remote and uncharted. This is one of them.”

smalldiver:  Don’t expect the events or dialogue in this story to mirror book or film.  This is a new situation for our Fellowship, and their actions (and reactions) -- although in character -- may not be precisely what you anticipate.  I’m just “going with the flow”.  :)

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

THE ISLAND

Chapter 6 - Hidden Spells

“I’m sorry,” Merry said softly. “I just had to look into it again. It was all I could think about.”

“Look into what?” Boromir asked.

Aragorn sighed. “A palantir, Boromir. One of the seven stones.”

Boromir frowned. “We believe that the Dark Lord took the stone of Minas Ithil long ago, but we thought the others lost.”

“Not so,” Legolas said. “One remains at the Havens on the western shores of Middle-earth.”

“And another is in my keeping,” Aragorn continued. “One of the stones of Arnor, thought lost at sea, was recently discovered and brought to Rivendell, where I have been dwelling. I am now its guardian.” He looked grimly in the direction of the jungle. “Saruman apparently has one as well, and has learned to use it.” He smiled at Merry. “You did nothing wrong, Merry; the seeing stones seek each other out; only a trained will can command it otherwise. I will conceal it so that you will not be tempted again.”

“No,” Merry said unexpectedly. “You don’t have to hide it, Aragorn. I would not look into it again if it were here in front of me.”

“What did you see?” Pippin asked.

“I’m not certain,” Merry said hesitantly. “At first, I felt that I was flying... I could see the whole island. Then I was drawn to a... a tower, where a Man stood, looking into a globe like mine. I mean, like Aragorn’s,” he quickly corrected himself. “He saw me. I felt suddenly deathly cold, and he... he spoke...”

“What did he say to you, Merry?” Gandalf asked.

“I don’t know.” Merry looked troubled. “His voice was soft... gentle... I felt cold, and...”

“That’s enough,” Frodo said suddenly. “It must have been you that he saw, Merry. You distracted him from me, and from his control of the man on the oliphaunt.” He looked at Gandalf. “Do you suppose that Saruman is after this ‘seeing stone’ as well as the Ring?”

“He will acquire it, if he can,” Gandalf sighed. “We must be very alert in the next days.”

“In the meantime,” Aragorn said, turning his attention to Frodo, “let us see what we can do about that fever.”

“How?” Frodo asked.

Aragorn motioned to the still-steaming pot of water. “I have found athelas; it has great virtue. Now that we know that the source of your fever is Dark Magic, perhaps Gandalf and I, working together, can dispel it.” He looked at Gandalf, who nodded.

“You’re going to use magic?” Pippin asked eagerly. He flopped down next to Frodo. “I want to watch.”

“Perhaps we should give them some privacy, you miscreant,” Boromir said. He bent and scooped Pippin up off the ground. “Let us see if knocking you against one of these trees will persuade some of the larger fruits to fall.” He walked off, the young giggling hobbit dangling from his arm. Legolas, and Gimli left the shelter as well, but Sam and Merry sat down firmly at Frodo’s side.

“What do you mean to do?” Frodo asked Aragorn, wide eyed.

“Do not fear,” the Ranger said softly. “Lie down and close your eyes. That’s it...” He lay a hand on Frodo’s brow -- the warmth of fever was still evident -- and closed his own eyes. Aragorn whispered something and concentrated -- and Frodo’s body slowly relaxed, his breathing deepening and slowing.

“He sleeps,” Aragorn said, opening his eyes and looking at Gandalf.

“How did you do that?” Merry asked in amazement.

“It is something I learned from a master healer,” the Ranger responded. He moved the still-steaming pot so that the athelas fragrance would reach Frodo. Then he rose, and Gandalf took his place. Sam watched, awestruck, as the wizard began to chant strange words. He placed one hand on Frodo’s chest and another gently on his injured leg, and continued chanting. Suddenly Frodo’s body convulsed, and he cried out. Sam thought he could see... almost see... a dark cloud rise from Frodo’s leg. Gandalf’s voice grew louder, the words more strident -- until suddenly the cloud burst apart, replaced by a gentle light... until it, too, faded and was gone. Frodo sighed, and relaxed once more into peaceful slumber.

“The spell has been broken,” Gandalf declared.

“What was that... that thing?” Sam whispered.

“Battles are fought on many levels, Sam,” Gandalf said quietly.

Aragorn moved to check Frodo’s fever. “He should recover more swiftly now,” he murmured.

“How long will he be asleep?”

“A few hours, I would think,” Aragorn replied. “He will not remember the pain... only gentle dreams.”

“That’s good,” Merry sighed. Gandalf motioned for Aragorn to accompany him some distance from the shelter.

“What troubles you?” Aragorn asked.

“We must watch Merry closely,” Gandalf said.

“Gandalf, when he spoke of what he saw, I did not sense any deception in his speech.”

“Saruman’s voice carries great power and influence, Aragorn. It is his greatest weapon. He spoke to Merry, but Merry does not remember what he heard. We do not know what that villain may have placed into our young hobbit's mind during their exchange.”

Aragorn nodded thoughtfully.

*~*~*~*~*

That third day on the island passed without further incident. No one wandered far from camp, and all found more than enough to keep them busy. Merry and Legolas gathered fruit and edible plants, and -- once Boromir released him -- Pippin continued to have good luck with his fishing. Gandalf went off to seek more firewood, and Gimli began to diligently fashion more weapons. Meanwhile, Sam directed Aragorn and Boromir in the digging of a deep pit, and everyone helped to prepare the boar Gimli had brought in for slow, overnight roasting.

Sam kept running back to check on Frodo, who was sleeping longer than Aragorn had guessed -- but Aragorn assured him that all was well. Indeed, Frodo awoke just as Pippin was proudly passing around smoked fish and fresh greens, served on the airline’s finest china. Frodo sat up and looked around, surprised that evening was already coming on.

“Perfect timing,” Sam grinned, handing Frodo a plate.

“Is... am I all right?” Frodo asked Aragorn as everyone sat down near him and began to eat.

“Yes,” the Ranger smiled. “Saruman’s hold on you has been broken.”

“I don’t feel too badly anymore,” Frodo said, beginning to wolf down the generous portion handed to him. “Thank you for---” He suddenly put down his plate and looked closely at his right hand. “Whatever is this?”

Merry started to laugh. “Pippin discovered some colored markers in the cockpit, and, well, we weren’t watching him for five minutes, and...”

Frodo held up his hand and stared at the back of it. On each finger Pippin had written a letter, spelling out F-R-O-D-O in five different colors. “Pip, did you think I’d forget who I was?” he grinned. “This will wash off, won’t it?” His smile faded as Pippin tried to hide behind Legolas. “Won’t it?”

** TBC **

AlabrithGaiamoon:  Ah, where did they get the plane... I think we’re going to just have to accept the plane as being part of this strange little universe!  Thank you so much for coming along on this journey with us.

Armariel:  Do I remember correctly that you just had a birthday?  I hope it was terrific!

Arrina:  Nope, not a Nazgul -- just a man (probably Grima).  Even in an AU, I can’t imagine Saruman having Nazgul at his beck and call.  But it’s fun to bring in an oliphaunt!

Beth:  Glad to have you along for the ride!  I enjoy “role reversals” (like Merry being the one to look into the palantir), if only to see what comes of it.  LOTR is such an unending source of inspiration.

Caroly:  I’m so glad this story seems ‘fun’ -- I wasn’t sure what it would be!  It’s such a great opportunity to play around with canon (such as having Merry look into the palantir).  Believe it or not, Frodo did see an oliphaunt!  (And Pippin still has much to do in this story, as we’ll see...)

diva:  Thank you.  It’s so interesting to blend these two stories together.

Elven Kitten:  Something good did come from Merry’s need to look into the palantir, like it did when Pippin needed to look (in the book).  What fun!

Enelya Tasartir:  I hardly ever watch TV (no time!), but “Lost” hooked me from the first episode.  It’s so wild to be blending LOTR and “Lost”.

Eregriel Gloswen:  Thank you!  I’m trying to frequently as possible.

Galidea:  You were in Sri Lanka?  Wow.  I think you are now my hero.  What is up with that polar bear?  I’m beginning to wonder if Walt’s strange mental gifts are creating “real” monsters (not just comic book ones).

gods-girl2004:  I promise, there will be more Pip coming -- much more!  And I hope that Boromir’s eventual actions regarding the Ring will please everyone; I’m trying to think “outside the box” for this story.

Hanna M:  I checked out Camellia’s journal, and also read your bio page.  Thank you so much, Hanna -- I feel much better.  What a sweetie you are.

Julia:  Ah, the combined powers of Saruman and the addictive palantir -- can Merry resist?  :) 

lindahoyland:  What a sweet thing to say.  Thank you!

Manwathiel:  Thank you!  I will!

Maura Labingi:  “Lost” is so good at leaving us at cliffhangers, you’d think they were writing fanfic!  But a cliffhanger like that followed by reruns... growl.

my-fool-of-a-took:  You’re getting “Lost”!  Yay!  You’ll have to let us know what you think of it.

Mysterious Jedi:  No need to be eloquent or creative, my friend.  It’s just a pleasure to know that you’re enjoying the story.

Patty:  We need athelas here, we really do!  And the healing hands of a ranger-king to use it.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful to inhale its fresh, wonderful fragrance just once?

Pearl Took:  I never knew “tweaking” could be so interesting... and challenging!  I think I’ve blown my fevered brain wide open, with this one.

PlatinumRoseLady:  I think it’s Saruman who’s the noodle-brain.  The poor guy is so sure about everything, but hobbits are the most surprising creatures...

Shadowfax2931:  I did see the last “Lost” episode -- how could they follow it with a re-run?  Grrrr.

smalldiver:  Thank you.  And I appreciate you letting me know about the flamer; my goodness, what a strange and sad thing for someone to do.

Teha:  I get a kick out of imagining Aragorn as a weapons-smuggler, too!  Perhaps in a different AU universe...

the7bells:  Thank you so much!

Wydinel Sheergale:  I’m very glad that the characters are staying ‘in character’.  (And please tell your little sister that ‘Balrog Air’ is a cool name, but it might scare away the passengers!)

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

THE ISLAND

Chapter 7 - Unsettling Events

The hobbits slept peacefully all night, unaware that their five comrades had begun to quietly take turns keeping watch. The next morning, the tasks of keeping the camp going -- food gathering, cooking, washing, filling water jugs, gathering firewood, limited exploring -- had already begun to fall into an efficient routine.

After breakfast, Aragorn agreed that Frodo could trying walking around for the first time, as the hobbit’s fever was finally gone, and his injured leg healing well.

“Really, you two,” Frodo complained good naturedly to Sam and Aragorn, “you don’t have to shadow me everywhere I go.” He took another step -- his first experience walking in the soft, warm sand -- and tried to pull his arm out of Sam’s tight grip.

“Let him go, Sam,” Aragorn sighed. Sam did so, reluctantly, and Frodo walked a few halting steps on his own, delighted to be free of the confining shelter. He made his way to the surfline and stood for awhile, transfixed by the Sea and by the way the outgoing waves made the wet sand slip away from his feet... and how the returning water felt so warm and soothing. However, walking back up the beach was difficult, as the still-painful leg threatened to give way -- both from the effort of walking through the deep, shifting sand, and the unaccustomed exercise.

“No,” Frodo insisted when Aragorn hurried over to help him. “I can do it.” Gritting his teeth, he limped slowly but determinedly back to the shelter before collapsing on a blanket, pale and shaking.

“Stubborn hobbit,” Gandalf muttered. Legolas, whose keen hearing had picked up the words, smiled at the wizard.

“What better guardian of the Ring than one whose heart is innocent, but whose will is strong?” the Elf asked quietly, and Gandalf nodded in agreement.

Sam brought Frodo some water just as Pippin marched over and plunked a pan of freshly-caught fish in front of his elder cousin.

“It’s time you started helping out around here,” Pippin declared. He sat next to Frodo and handed him a small, sharp blade that Gimli had fashioned. “Scaling and gutting fish is an art, but I’m sure I can teach you. You can take another walk when you’re finished.”

“Finished?” Frodo asked in amazement. “Peregrin, there must be a dozen fish in here.”

“We’d better get started, then,” Pippin advised. Aragorn covered a chuckle with a cough and walked away, approving the young hobbit’s ploy to keep Frodo busy -- and off his feet.

So intent had everyone been on Frodo’s small excursion, or their various tasks, that no one realized, for quite some time, that Merry was no longer on the beach.

*~*~*~*~*

“I’ll go,” Aragorn said grimly. The companions had called and searched the immediate area, but Merry was not to be found. Gandalf had even checked that the palantir was still safely hidden, and it was. Finally, Aragorn had found the faint trail of fresh footprints, leading into the jungle. “I can most easily track Merry.”

“Take me with you!” Pippin pleaded. “If Merry’s in trouble---”

“Perhaps that is a good idea, Aragorn,” Gandalf said thoughtfully. “I can only assume that Merry is responding to some command or suggestion that Saruman placed in his mind, and he may not be thinking clearly. If he will listen to anyone, however confused he may be, it would be Pippin... or Frodo.”

“I will not allow Frodo to walk that far -- not yet,” Aragorn insisted, silencing Frodo’s protest. “I will take Pippin.”

“I will accompany you,” said Legolas, rising gracefully to his feet. “Perhaps the trees will tell us what your tracking skills cannot.”

“Bring him back safely,” Gimli said. “I need to teach that hobbit a lesson for concealing his chess-playing skills from me. I will not rest until I have bested him.” He spoke gruffly, but the others could sense the concern in the Dwarf’s voice and manner.

“Three warriors are a greater force than two,” Boromir said to Aragorn. “I will come, as well.”

“You cannot,” Aragorn said quickly. “Do you not remember what Frodo related of Saruman’s speech with him? The wizard boasted that he would draw away each of the Ring-bearer’s 'protectors' until he was alone.” Frodo frowned, listening to the Ranger’s words. “You must remain here, Boromir, with Gandalf, Gimli, and Sam. Be alert to anything out of the ordinary. Do not let one another out of your sight.”

Legolas retrieved his bow and quiver from where they rested among the salvaged goods, and Aragorn stowed several water bottles and his medical bag in a pack he slung across his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” Pippin said impatiently, anxious to be off. “Merry could be hurt, or lost!”

“Stay between us, Pippin,” Legolas said as Aragorn began to follow Merry’s trail into the foliage. “We must walk silently.” Pippin nodded, and the three hunters set off.

“Merry wouldn’t just wander off,” Sam said worriedly.

“I agree,” Gandalf said. “But Saruman’s arm is long. He sensed the Ring’s presence from a very great distance, and brought down a plane -- and injured Frodo -- with his Dark Magic. We must be vigilant.”

“Do not fear, Frodo,” Boromir said, sitting beside the hobbit. “They will find Merry, and we will safeguard you -- and what you bear.” He spoke as if to himself. “A fallen wizard cannot be permitted to wield the One Ring -- not when Gondor’s need for it is so great.”

Frodo frowned. “What are you saying?”

Boromir looked down at Frodo. “It is clear that you and I were destined to meet,” he declared, “and that the Ring was revealed to the heir of Gondor at the appointed time. Evil pursues you, Frodo, and it need not be so. Why must you continue to bear this burden? Do you not think I have thought long on this, while you were ill? When my father arrives, you can pass on the Ring to him, as is meant to be, and return to your home in peace.” His eyes held Frodo’s with an eager glance. “Would you not show it to me again?”

Sam saw something in the Man’s face that suddenly frightened him, and Frodo looked up at Boromir in alarm.

“Do not be too eager to interpret destiny, Son of Gondor,” Gandalf said gravely. “History has shown us that---”

"A ship!" Boromir cried out suddenly. "It flies the banner of the Steward!" He leaped to his feet and began running to the surfline.

"Where?" Sam asked, shading his eyes. "Gandalf, do you see a ship?"

"I do not," the wizard said.

"Nor do I," Gimli said. "Boromir!" he bellowed, "there is no ship!"

"Are you blind?" Boromir yelled back. "My father approaches!"

"On your feet, Frodo," Gandalf said quietly. "You too, Sam. Something clouds Boromir's reason, and sends him a false vision."

Frodo stood up, and Sam came instantly to his side. "You were right, Frodo. That villain said he would draw everyone away from you."

"Boromir," Frodo yelled, "you are deceived! Come back!"

"Gimli, be ready," Gandalf said grimly, standing between the hobbits and the jungle. "There is some devilry at work here, and we must prepare to face it."

** TBC **

Beth:  I forgot about the hand-writing in “The Blues Brothers”!  You’ll see that there’s a similar thing in “Lost”.  Enjoy the show!  It’s extremely unusual and refreshing.

Elven Kitten:  Thanks for your support and enthusiasm.

Eregriel Gloswen:  Wow, thank you.  There isn’t that much opportunity for humor in this fic, but when I can slip some in... I will!

esamen:  It actually didn’t occur to me to quote “Quarantined” directly, but I get a kick out of the fact that you remember that line so fondly.

espergirl04:  Sorry to distract you from your essay -- hope you got it finished!

Galidea:  Welcome home!  I’m sure you had an amazing experience in Sri Lanka.

Gods-girl2004:  Pip and Boromir!  They’re fun together, aren’t they?  I think the story where I wrote the most Pip-Boromir was “Avalanche”.  I have to say that my favorite character is Frodo, and has been for 25 years.  Next in line would be Pippin, Aragorn, Faramir, and Sam.

Julia:  As you can see, the consequences of Merry’s peek into the palantir are not over.  (cue suspenseful music)

lindahoyland:  Thanks, Linda.  I’m glad this continues to be a fun read.

lovethosehobbits:  I was wondering if there would be any way to slip humor into this story -- but Pippin will be Pippin.

Maura Labingi:  I’m honored that this story is the only thing with which you allow yourself to be distracted!

my-fool-of-a-took:  Pippin is very adaptable to any situation, isn’t he?  What a scamp.

Mysterious Jedi:  Pippin might be mischievous with the colored markers, but he would never give Frodo a tattoo.  I don’t think.  :)

Patty:  I like that Boromir-Pippin scene, too.  There has to be some lightheartedness in this strange little story.

Pearl Took:  Thanks, Pearl!  This is such fun!

Pip4:  If Charlie can write on his fingers, I figured Pippin could write on... an unsuspecting cousin.  As you can see, Merry’s reprieve from palantir repercussions was only temporary.

PlatinumRoseLady:  Thank you so much!  (And don’t think Pippin got that idea to write on Frodo’s hand from me.  Or Charlie.  That little rascal thought it up all by himself.)  :)

QuinlanRamsey:  It’s fun to weave LOTR and “Lost” together like this.

Roger Gamgee:  Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see some LOTR folks (Billy or Elijah) show up on “Lost” for a cameo role?  It’s a strange island, and you never know...  It’ll be wonderful to see new shows and not just reruns -- but I suspect that this season is going to end on a major cliffhanger that’s going to drive us all mad.

Scifirogue Kane:  I wish my town loved LOTR as much as yours!  I do have one sibling, but the idea of Pippin writing on Frodo’s fingers came from something Dominic Monaghan’s character does on “Lost”.

smalldiver:  Sam should show those airlines a thing or three about fine cuisine.  What a lovely thought.

Teha:  Yes, poor Frodo.  And now his name indelibly marked on his hand.  Will his trauma never end?  :)

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

THE ISLAND

Chapter 8 - Traps and Treachery

It was the voices that distracted him from the piles of salvaged clothes and blankets he had been sorting. Merry looked up, puzzled. Something in the jungle was calling him... whispering to him... Was it the trees, themselves, or something he could not quite see? Before he could call out to one of his companions to ask if they heard it also, the soft, whispery voices triggered the command that Saruman had planted deeply into his subconscious mind: words gentle but compelling, overriding all logic and thought. Merry left what he was doing and walked into the thick jungle, unnoticed by anyone.

The path wasn’t easy to follow, but the voice -- familiar and trusted -- told him where to go, what obstacles to avoid. When it said to veer around a sandy patch of ground and wait on the other side, he did so. Merry had never disobeyed his father’s voice, and wasn’t about to start now. He circled around the clearing, and waited.

*~*~*~*~*

“Where is he going?” Pippin huffed, clambering over a tree root. “Merry would never---”

“Stay quiet,” Aragorn reminded him. The three hunters pressed deeper into the jungle, following Merry’s faint trail.

“He is just ahead,” Legolas said at last, breaking the silence. “The trees whisper of a small person in their midst; they sense no threat from him, and there is no one else nearby.”

Finally, Pippin thought. What is my silly cousin up to, out here? Unable to hold back any longer, he ran ahead, ducking through the last of the foliage fringing a fairly circular, open space. “Merry!” he cried, spotting his cousin standing quietly on the other side of the clearing. He ran towards Merry, who appeared not to see him. “Merry!”

Aragorn, close behind Pippin, ran towards the hobbits. Merry seemed unharmed, but in a trance-like state. He looked around swiftly, and confirmed that Legolas was correct -- there was no one else in the vicinity.

Just before he reached the spot where Merry was standing, Pippin suddenly found that he could no longer run. His feet seemed to be sinking deeply into the sand, which shifted like water as he tried to pull out. Aragorn, about halfway across the clearing, discovered the same -- he was sinking into the ground, as if it were thick mud.

“Legolas, stay back!” Aragorn yelled. The Elf, just emerging from the foliage, halted and tried to make sense of the scene before him. Merry, seemingly bespelled and oblivious to their presence, stood on the opposite side of what was most definitely a trap. Pippin, struggling wildly, had sunk past his waist in a watery substance that -- on the surface -- appeared to be harmless sand. Aragorn, perhaps a dozen feet behind Pippin, had gone very still, his legs sinking very slowly into the thick, cold ooze.

“Stop moving, Pippin!” Aragorn cried out. “The more you struggle, the faster you sink.” Pippin immediately obeyed, but the viscous sand continued to suck him under -- albeit more slowly. Soon it was up to his shoulders. He couldn’t believe his eyes -- Merry, standing just a few feet away, wasn’t helping him... and didn’t even seem to know he was there.

“I do not believe I am endangered by this substance,” Legolas declared, testing it with one foot. Satisfied, he walked slowly across the quicksand, his steps so light that they made hardly a mark on the watery expanse. Reaching Aragorn, he bent and slid his hands under the Man’s arms and pulled slightly -- but immediately stopped when the Ranger’s weight began to push his own feet into the sand. “Remain still,” he advised. “Pippin is close enough to the other side for me to pull him out, but I will need to find something with which to extricate you.” He quickly walked the rest of the way across the clearing until he stood next to Merry, on solid ground. Seeing the Elf so close, Pippin tried to pull an arm free of the muck, but the sudden movement shifted his precarious stability and he sank up to his chin. An incautious breath caused him to swallow some of the murky sand, and the young hobbit began to choke. Instantly, Legolas lay flat on his stomach and extended an arm as far out as he could. Straining and reaching, he grasped the fabric of Pippin’s shirt just as the youngster went under, and hauled the small body clear of the sand.

Covered in the thick, sticky earth, Pippin lay coughing and gasping for breath. Legolas bent to help him, but Pippin shook his head and pointed straight up. Legolas followed the youngster’s finger, and smiled.

“Well done, young one,” the Elf murmured. “I shall return in a moment.” So saying, he ran lightly to the nearest tree and scurried up until he reached the long, thick vine Pippin had seen. Detaching it with a murmured apology to the tree, Legolas leaped back down to solid ground and threw the end of the vine to Aragorn.

Pippin felt nauseous, and was starting to shake -- a combination of shock and the chill, thick sand clinging to him from head to toe. But he crawled to where Merry stood, still motionless, and pinched his cousin on the ankle -- hard.

Merry jumped, looked around wildly, then stared in amazement at his young cousin, who was covered in what looked like mud and retching convulsively. “Pippin, what’s wrong? How did you...” Legolas, using all his strength, pulled Aragorn the last few feet until he was clear of the sand, then dropped wearily to his knees. “Where did you all come from?” Merry asked desperately. “What’s happening?”

“Just a moment, Merry,” Aragorn said, crawling over to Pippin. He wrapped his arms around the hobbit’s small chest and tightened them, forcing a quantity of filthy water out of Pippin’s mouth. Pippin coughed and clung to him, feeling cold and sick.

“Merry, what is the last thing you remember?” Legolas asked.

“I was... I heard my father calling to me,” Merry said. “I... he said...” he shook his head in frustration.

“How did you avoid walking into this trap?” Legolas asked.

“He... the voice told me to walk around it,” Merry stammered. “I don’t remember anything else until just a few moments ago.” He covered his face with his hands and started to sob. “You all could have died! How could I have been fooled like this? Pippin...”

“Merry, you are not at fault,” Aragorn reassured him. “Saruman is a wizard, with powers beyond any of us. He knew that several of your companions would follow you, and believed we would be consumed by this substance.” He fingered the vine thoughtfully. “Luckily, Saruman’s arrogance did not take into account that an Elf would not be trapped thus -- or that a young hobbit could be so quick thinking -- when he lured us here.”

Pippin looked up at the Ranger. “Do you mean that?” he whispered, then resumed coughing.

“I do.” Aragorn smiled. He lifted the grit-covered hobbit off the ground. “We must return to the beach and get you warmed and tended.” Avoiding the clearing by a wide margin, he began to lead the group back along the route they had followed.

“What if I hear more voices?” Merry asked.

Legolas smiled down at his companion. “Gandalf believes that a ship will be here in only a few days’ time; we will not let you wander off again, Merry.”

“Pip, are you all right?” Merry looked up at his cousin, who was still coughing.

“He will be,” Aragorn assured him. “I fear that Pippin may feel a bit sick tonight, and his throat may be sore for a short time.”

“Aragorn,” Legolas said quietly, “you were correct -- we were lured here. There is no telling what may be happening back at camp. I will run ahead.” In seconds, he had disappeared down the faint trail.

“Frodo might be in danger!” Merry gasped. “We have to get back there, now!” He glanced at Aragorn, who nodded, before racing off after the Elf -- leaving Aragorn to follow more slowly, a shivering Pippin secure in his arms.

*~*~*~*~*

As Gandalf, Gimli, Frodo, and Sam watched, a bellowing noise grew in intensity and the jungle foliage parted -- but there was nothing to be seen.

“The invisible oliphaunt is back!” Sam whispered. “What do we do?”

“I can---”

“Frodo, do not put the Ring on again,” Gandalf said quickly, seizing the hobbit’s hand, “not under any circumstances. Gimli...” he motioned for the Dwarf to join them. “Stand ready.” So saying, the wizard aimed his staff at the invisible threat, and suddenly shouted words that the others couldn’t understand. The sunlight seemed to dim at the same time a blinding explosion of light and flame burst forth from the staff. Gimli and the hobbits watched, amazed, as a huge beast grew faintly visible, indistinct and flickering in the magical illumination. With a cry of frustration, the beast’s rider -- seeing that the Dwarf and hobbits stood within the wizard’s flaming protection -- threw a spear at Boromir, still wrapped in illusion at the water’s edge. With a cry, Gimli dashed forward, axe in hand. Moving more quickly than the hobbits had believed possible, he smashed the spear to splinters as it whizzed by him. The Man on the oliphaunt urged the beast forward, another spear in his hand.

“Boromir!” Frodo cried, “look out!” Thinking only of the danger to his new friend, Frodo stumbled away from the wizard’s side and ran towards Boromir in an effort to get his attention. Boromir turned, horrified at what he saw -- a spear, coming straight for him -- and Frodo...

“No!” Sam screamed, but it was too late. Gimli spun around and clove the second spear in two, but the momentum of the Man’s throw kept the sharp-tipped point speeding onwards. Frodo, now in its path, was struck in the back, which sent him sprawling on the sand at Boromir’s feet where he lay, unmoving. With an evil grin, the rider nodded, satisfied. He pulled the oliphaunt back into the jungle, and was gone.

** TBC **

Arrina:  Sorry about all the cliffies!  About folks dying... I’m hoping this story continues to be unpredictable and surprising...  :)

elentari angel:  Thank you so much -- I’m so glad this story has an ‘original’ feel to it.  (And I really should be ashamed of myself about using cliffhangers.  I really should be.)

Elven Kitten:  Wow, thanks!  What a sweetie you are.

Galidea:  Goodness, they wouldn’t dare kill Claire or Charlie.  Those two are the reason I watch the show.

Julia:  I couldn’t leave Merry in danger for too long, not with Pip, Aragorn, and Legolas determined to save him!

lindahoyland:  This story is giving me such a fun way to indulge in unusual plot twists, while still trying to keep the characters and “essence” of LOTR intact.  Thank you for reading!

lovethosehobbits:    Eeee, I have you in my clutches!  What fun, tree.

Maura Labingi:  I should be severely chastised about my use of cliffhangers.  They just... they just appear out of nowhere!  I hope your birthday was lovely, Maura.

my-fool-of-a-took:  You can watch “Lost”!  Yay!  It’s certainly a very unusual show, and nothing and no one are quite what they seem.

Mysterious Jedi:  And now I’ve given you another suspenseful ending!  I’ll try to stop doing that.

Pearl Took:  Yes, poor Boromir finds a difficult path no matter what story he finds himself in.  I hope you enjoy how his character evolves.

PlatinumRoseLady:  I think you’ll definitely enjoy Boromir’s character development as the story progresses.  :)

QuinlanRamsey:  I think the writers of “Lost” learned to tease us with cliffhangers by reading fanfiction!

Raven Aorla:  I wish to see where the story is taking us, as well!  This is a challenging journey.

Scifirogue Kane:  It’s such a thrill to know that you and lil sis are reading along!  I hope you both continue to enjoy the story.

smalldiver:  No matter where the Fellowship goes, they seem to find themselves in peril.  How odd...  :)

Vilya0:  Hi!  I’m happy you’re enjoying this!

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

THE ISLAND

Chapter 9 - Healing

The last of the spell-induced fog cleared from Boromir’s mind when he saw Frodo -- someone he had sworn to protect -- lying at his feet, victim of a spear meant for him. He fell to his knees with a wail of grief and rage -- which gave way to a gasp of surprise. There was no blood on the small, unmoving form, and the spearpoint, undamaged, lay nearby. Somehow, the courageous hobbit had not been skewered like one of Gimli’s wild boars... could he yet live? With a shaking hand, Boromir touched a finger to Frodo’s throat. No blood, but... no heartbeat. In seconds, Boromir gathered up Frodo’s limp body and ran to to the shelter. He lay the hobbit down on one of the blankets, then knelt next to him and began to tear off the small shirt.

“Leave him be!” Sam screamed, rushing to Boromir’s side. “What are you doing to him? Can’t you see that he’s...”

“His heart was stopped from the blow,” Boromir explained urgently. “I have seen such a thing before. If I can coax it to start once again, there may still be hope. What...” He stared at the glittering mail that lay beneath Frodo’s shirt.

“Mithril!” Gimli said in wonder, coming to stand nearby.

“No spear could penetrate such a shirt,” Gandalf murmured. “Boromir, do what you can for him.”

Boromir lifted Frodo slightly to remove the mail shirt, and Sam gasped at the sight of the large, swollen bruise on Frodo’s back where the spear had hit with such force. Laying Frodo back down, Boromir began a swift, rhythmic compression on the small chest.

Sam, sobbing, grasped Gandalf’s hand tightly, watching the Man’s every move. Boromir tilted Frodo’s head back and blew several long breaths into the slack mouth, before resuming his frantic tries at pushing life back into the still heart beneath his hands. Again and again he alternately breathed and pressed, but Frodo did not stir.

Gimli sighed, shaking his head sadly. “Leave off, laddie,” he murmured. “There is naught else you can do.”

“No!” Boromir insisted. He pounded forcefully upon Frodo’s chest once, then again, until suddenly Frodo took a huge gasp of air. Then another.

“Frodo!” Sam cried, falling to his knees next to his friend. Frodo’s eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open.

“He may not awaken right away, Sam,” Boromir said, relieved beyond words that Frodo’s life had not been traded for his own. He shook his head in dismay at the bruises already forming on the fair skin of Frodo’s chest. “I hope I have not broken any ribs.”

Just then, Legolas came running swiftly out of the jungle. “What has occurred?” he asked.

“We were attacked,” Gimli said. “If not for this, Frodo would surely be dead.” He stooped to pick up the mithril shirt and held it reverently.

“My vision was a true one,” Legolas murmured in amazement.

“Vision?” Gandalf asked.

Legolas nodded. “Before leaving home, I had a vision... or dream, if you prefer. “The halfling forth shall stand,” a voice whispered, and I saw a fair, dark-haired halfling wearing this.” He motioned to the mithril shirt. “This is an heirloom of my House, passed down through generations from the First Age.”

“Dwarves had the crafting of it,” Gimli declared. “It must have been meant for a prince, or a king.”

“I felt... I knew that I needed to bring it with me on this trip,” Legolas continued. “The moment I saw Frodo, I knew he was the halfling from my vision. When he told us that Saruman planned to draw away all of his ‘protectors’ until he was alone, I persuaded him to wear the shirt as protection.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sam said, his eyes never leaving Frodo’s face. “You saved his life. You... and Boromir.”

“And you saved mine,” Boromir said to Gimli. “I am in your debt.”

“Saruman believed us powerless because we would not seize the Ring for ourselves,” Gandalf muttered. “He has become a fool as well as a threat.”

“Aye,” Gimli agreed. “This villain knows nothing of friendship, or what comrades-in-arms will do for one another.”

Frodo moaned and opened his eyes, every breath an effort.

“Sam,” Boromir said quickly, “please heat more water. When Aragorn returns, he may be able to ease Frodo’s hurts with that special plant of his.”

“What...” Frodo gasped.

“Do not try to talk,” Legolas said, taking Frodo’s hand as Sam raced off.

“I heard Sam... crying...”

“Frodo,” Boromir burst out, “forgive me. I swear on my life that I saw---”

“I know,” Frodo whispered. “You are not to blame, Boromir.”

“Saruman is a formidable foe, and can manipulate both mind and matter.” Gandalf said. “I doubt he will attempt the same tricks a second time.”

“Tricks!” Gimli snorted.

“What... hit me?” Frodo murmured, clutching his chest.

“It was necessary,” Boromir sighed. “I am sorry to have injured you.”

“Is Frodo all right?” Merry begged, running up.

“He will be,” Legolas said. He stroked Frodo’s brow with one hand and began a soft song.

“Merry, are you all right?” Gandalf asked. “Where are the others?”

“A voice called to me, and I followed.” Merry hung his head. “I don’t know how I was so fooled. Pippin and Aragorn nearly died because of me.”

“What?” Sam returned from where he had been setting pots of water to heat. “Are they out there, hurt?”

“Pippin will need tending, but he was not seriously harmed,” Legolas said. He looked up and smiled. “Here they are.” Aragorn stepped out of the foliage, and everyone looked at him in amazement. The ranger was caked in some type of mud from his boots to above his waist. Pippin, shivering in his arms, was nearly totally covered in the sticky sand, and practically unrecognizable. Aragorn knelt next to the freshwater stream close to camp and settled Pippin against a large tree, before joining the others at the shelter. He listened intently while Boromir and Gimli filled him in on what had occurred.

“Merry, will you and Sam bathe all that muck off Pippin? Wrap him up warmly, and I’ll prepare something for his throat.” Aragorn knelt and quickly began to examine Frodo, his face grave, while Sam and Merry grabbed up blankets and towels and headed towards Pippin.

“Nothing broken,” Aragorn said at last with a relieved smile. Pulling one of the precious athelas leaves from his pack, he crushed it in his hands then dropped it into one of the pots of hot water. The fresh scent filled the shelter, and everyone felt their tensions and fears easing. Once the water had cooled slightly, Aragorn soaked a cloth in it. He eased Frodo onto his side, then bathed the ugly bruises, front and back. Frodo sighed as his breathing -- and the crushing pains -- eased. Legolas gently eased Frodo into a sitting position while Aragorn wrapped soft, padded cloths about his chest.

Aragorn looked up as Merry and Sam led Pippin to him, their young comrade now cleaned, and wrapped in several blankets. He sorted through the herbs in his pack, and prepared a tea.

“What happened to Frodo?” Pippin gasped.

“Saruman sent his minion again,” Gimli replied, “but he failed to achieve his goal.”

Aragorn handed Pippin a steaming mug, but the youngster shook his head. “I can’t,” he whispered, his throat raw from coughing. “I feel sick.”

“I know,” Aragorn said. “Drink very slowly; this will soothe your throat.”

“I want to hear what happened,” Pippin insisted, sitting down and beginning to take small sips. “You need a bath, too, Aragorn,” he observed.

Aragorn grinned. “I agree,” he said with a chuckle. He looked from Pippin to Frodo. “And I seem to be caring for the same two patients I started with a few days ago.”

“Sam, is that boar roasted yet?” Frodo murmured. “I’m hungry.” His eyelids fluttered closed, and he slowly relaxed against Legolas, drifting into sleep.

“By the time you wake, it will be,” Sam said softly. He looked up at Aragorn. “Is it normal to be sleeping, when he’s been so badly hurt?”

“It is not unheard of. We should take turns sitting with him until he wakes,” Aragorn said.

“Why?” Merry asked.

“His system has been through a great deal,” the ranger explained, checking the pulse point at Frodo’s wrist. “His heart stopped for a short time, not to mention the shock of the spear’s impact. It is just... prudent to watch his breathing, and make sure all is well.” At Sam’s look of dismay, Aragorn smiled. “Fear not, Sam. Frodo is made of stern stuff, with or without mithril.”

** TBC **

Avarwen:  Thank you so much for all your reviews, and what good questions!  Saruman is acting quickly, but as you’ll discover, he believes he has only a limited time in which to act.  The Fellowship may not know the Man grinned, but the narrator has let the readers know about it.  And I think you’ll be very pleased with Boromir’s character development in the rest of the story.  He definitely redeems himself!

Cindy:  Fear not!  As I told Avarwen, I think you’ll be very pleased with Boromir’s character development in the rest of the story.  And believe me, if a major character was going to be killed in this story, I wouldn’t have rated it “G”.

Dayna:  That’s so cool that one of the only bits of “Lost” you’ve seen gave you a flashback to this story!  I must be doing a decent job, then.  :)  Thanks so much for the enthusiasm!

Elven Kitten:  Sam does seem to be coming out of this story relatively undamaged, doesn’t he?  Lucky hobbit.

Fallenangel126:  As you can see, Legolas is responsible for saving more than one hobbit’s life!  I just don’t know how that elf manages to be so useful.  :)

Galidea!  I hope your flu is gone!  I’m very happy to give you something to enjoy.  Man, the “Lost” writers had better (eventually) tie up all these loose ends they’re dangling.  It would be too frustrating, otherwise.  That is one crazy island!

Julia:  Chapter 8 was truly an evil cliffie, Julia.  I apologize, and resolved it as soon as I could!

lovethosehobbits:  I felt your fingers around my neck the instant I wrote that cliffhanger, tree.  I’ll try not to let such an evil one into the story again.  (Honest, I don’t know how they slip in without my knowing about it.)  I suppose fanfiction is a lot like following a “soap”... and I hope the stories never end.

my-fool-of-a-took:  Frodo should be wrapped in bubble wrap, shouldn’t he?  My goodness, what that poor hobbit goes through... but at least in my stories everyone is all right by the end.  Even poor Pip!

Mysterious Jedi:  Thank you.

Pip4:  I promise never to kill a hobbit!  I can’t even bear to read stories where our sweet hobbits die.

PlatinumRoseLady:  Thanks for kicking that oliphaunt!  He seems to have gone away for the time being.

Roger Gamgee:  Thanks, Roger.  I have to admit that it’s quite a challenge blending these two universes; but a fun challenge.  (Do you think we’ll ever see the “mystery beast” on “Lost”?  Assuming it’s even there?)

Scifirogue Kane:  That really was an evil cliffie, wasn’t it?  I’ll try not to let any that evil slip in again.  At least with my stories, you know that everything will turn out all right in the end!

smalldiver:  Poor Frodo!  He does have a hard time of it in my stories... but I promise that he will always get better, and have lots of TLC!

Starfire Moonlight:  I don’t think Legolas would sink into anything.  It was fun giving him something new to walk on.

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

THE ISLAND

Chapter 10 - Perilous Plans

While Aragorn cleaned off in the stream, Legolas volunteered to watch over Frodo. Pippin soon lay sound asleep next to his elder cousin, lulled into slumber by the Elf’s soft singing. Sam and Merry sat near Legolas, talking softly.

“This is all my fault,” Merry murmured. “If I hadn’t looked into that globe... if I hadn’t listened to that voice...”

“Do not blame yourself, Merry,” Legolas advised. “Remember what Aragorn told you: Saruman is a wizard, with powers beyond our reckoning. We are fortunate to still be together, and relatively well.”

“He’s right,” Sam agreed, checking Frodo’s breathing for the dozenth time in an hour. “We’re doing our best, aren’t we?” He looked up suddenly, and sniffed the air. “That boar should be near ready, I think...”

“Go on, Sam,” Merry urged. “I’m not budging from this spot until they wake up.”

“All right. I’ll be back soon.” Sam left the shelter, calling for Gimli and Boromir to bring long, sturdy sticks over to the roasting pit.

When Aragorn had dried off and changed clothes, he joined Gandalf, who was once again standing at the surfline, gazing out to Sea.

“Círdan and his folk are two days out,” Gandalf told the ranger. “They come as quickly as they can.”

“I will be relieved to leave this place,” Aragorn replied. “What more can we do, Gandalf? How do we safeguard Frodo -- and all of them -- until rescue arrives?”

“By now,” Gandalf mused, “Saruman’s minion has reported that the Ringbearer is surely dead, and that four of our number were missing when he arrived. Saruman must know that his control of Merry was broken -- for the moment -- but may believe that Merry’s three rescuers succumbed to the trap toward which they were led.” The wizard shook his head. “With the Ringbearer dead, Saruman would not envision that an Elf or a Dwarf would allow the other to carry the One Ring -- nor would he believe that I would take it, or entrust it to a Man. It would be given over to a new bearer -- one of the remaining hobbits.”

Aragorn nodded. “What will he try next? Can you guess?”

“Saruman is a master of illusion,” Gandalf said. “His powers of persuasion lie with word or thought that cloud reason and gives him control.” He grew thoughtful. “One of the things he may have learned from Frodo’s mind -- or Merry’s -- is that rescue is not long in coming. I suspect he may be growing desperate enough, now, to leave his sanctuary and come for the Ring himself. In fact, we should see to it that he does.”

“Why?” Aragorn asked, incredulous.

“Saruman is too great a threat, if left on this island,” Gandalf explained. “No plane, ship, or traveler would be safe from his Dark Magic, and anyone he brought here would sooner or later be enspelled and enslaved. Saruman has one man and beast in his thrall at this time -- before long he would have an army, to unleash toward whatever evil he wishes.”

“How could we lure him to us?” Aragorn murmured. “We would need...”

“Bait,” Gandalf said quietly. “One of the hobbits must look into the palantir, and show Saruman the Ring. Saruman will believe that we are flaunting our victory over him before we leave. In his arrogance and desperation, he will come for it.”

“Gandalf,” Aragorn warned, “if you choose to do this, and the hobbits agree, it cannot be Merry; further contact with the palantir might do him great harm. He may not be able to shake off its effects as easily a second time, and might crave it as an addict craves poppy.”

“Hobbits are most amazing creatures,” Gandalf declared from long experience, “but there is no need for Merry to do this if Pippin or Sam are willing.”

Aragorn sighed. “I do not like the idea of using anyone as bait, especially one of the hobbits.”

“A renegade wizard must not be allowed to remain free,” Gandalf said firmly. “Aragorn, it may be a chance we will need to take. We are running out of time.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Frodo and Pippin opened their eyes almost simultaneously, awakened by delicious smells and soft, murmuring voices.

“I told you that would do it,” Merry said with a grin as Pippin sat up, bleary-eyed. “No Took or Baggins is going to sleep through something that smells this good.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” Pippin declared, his voice hoarse. “I just closed my eyes for a minute.”

“That was hours ago,” Boromir chuckled, pointing to the darkening sky.

“Is everyone all right?” Frodo murmured from where he lay. “Pip, why do you sound so strange?”

“I fell into muddy water and swallowed a bit,” Pippin said promptly, making light of his harrowing experience. “Merry, are you going to pass me a plate, or not?”

“Frodo,” Boromir said gravely, “I apologize for the words I spoke earlier -- about the Ring. My weakness may have allowed Saruman to enspell me as he did. I say to you now, that not even if I saw it lying upon the sand, untended, would I take it.”

“I believe you,” Frodo said, gazing deeply into the Man’s eyes.

“How do you feel?” Aragorn asked Frodo, helping him to sit up.

“Sore,” Frodo smiled faintly, “but alive.” He took an experimental deep breath, and winced. He smiled at Boromir’s pained expression. “You saved my life, Boromir,” he said. “A few bruises are a small price to pay.”

“Let me see,” Aragorn said, partially unwrapping one of the bandages from Frodo’s chest. He nodded. “You will be stiff and sore for several days; try to take it as easy as you can.” He replaced the length of cloth and helped Frodo into a shirt against the cool evening air.

“That healing plant you used is a wonder, sir,” Sam said to Aragorn, handing Frodo a heaping plateful of the tender, sliced boar and tubers that had been roasting all day. “His bruises are already beginning to fade.”

“Sam, you are the wonder,” Boromir said appreciatively, tasting the roasted meat. “Your skill with herbs rivals the finest chefs in Gondor.” Sam blushed, but the others all nodded.

The mithril shirt lay next to Frodo, and he fingered it wonderingly. “Legolas,” he said softly, holding it out to the Elf. “Without this I would have been---”

“This now belongs to you, Frodo,” Legolas said. “What use is such an heirloom, gathering dust, when it can serve to protect a courageous hobbit?”

“Thank you,” Frodo whispered.

The group ate steadily, and mostly silently, finishing the meal with a dessert of sweet, shredded coconut and sliced fruits. Finally, when even the hobbits had eaten their fill, Gandalf looked around at everyone.

“There is a matter we need to discuss,” the wizard began. “I believe that the Elves’ ship will arrive in two days if the weather remains fair. Saruman will know that he has little time left in which to obtain the Ring -- and we have little time left in which to lure him to us, and bind him for the trip home.”

“Lure him to us?” Sam asked in disbelief. “Isn’t that the last thing we want?”

Gandalf shook his head. “He cannot be permitted to remain here, Sam. Any plane passing near this island would be in danger; even the ship on which we depart could be prey to the same Dark Magic that brought us here. We must settle with Saruman before we leave. He would risk much if he was certain of the identity of the Ringbearer -- and believed that we were now too few to oppose him.”

“The new Ringbearer, you mean,” Frodo said slowly. “Saruman’s servant no doubt believes that he killed me.”

Gandalf nodded, pleased at Frodo’s perception. “And he would believe that the three who pursued Merry are most likely also dead. He would think the danger now less, but the urgency greater.” He paused and looked at the other three hobbits in turn. “It is likely that one of you would now safeguard the Ring.” Sam, Merry, and Pippin exchanged glances.

“How do you propose to lure him to us?” Legolas asked, puzzled. “Why do you not think that his minion would simply return and attack our ‘diminished numbers’ with greater zeal?”

“Frodo gave us the clue, when he was in communication with Saruman,” Aragorn said. “The wizard is arrogant and can see no further than his own plans and avarice. If he felt we were too confident... as arrogant as he...”

“What are you saying?” Gimli frowned.

“If Saruman believes that one of the three remaining hobbits now safeguards the Ring,” Aragorn said softly, “perhaps we could show him that he is correct. If he gazes into his palantir and sees the Ring and its new bearer, Gandalf does not believe he could resist coming for it.”

“But the only way for him to see one of us... would be if we could see him,” Merry frowned. “that would mean...”

“Yes,” Gandalf nodded. “If either Pippin or Sam are willing, Aragorn will bring out the seeing stone and let you gaze into it -- for a moment only. And Frodo would need to relinquish the Ring to one of you -- for a moment only.” Gandalf looked steadily at Frodo. “Do you think you could do that?”

“I...” Frodo looked uncertain. “I could try. But I don’t like this plan, Gandalf. We’re in danger as it is. Drawing it towards us faster seems... unwise. And putting someone else in Saruman’s sights seems---”

“What about me?” Merry declared suddenly. “Why just Pippin or Sam?”

“Merry, you would be my very last choice for this venture,” Aragorn said hastily. “A second experience with the seeing stone might be perilous for you.”

“Gandalf,” Legolas asked, “if Saruman takes this ‘bait’ and approaches, what will you do? How would we capture him?”

“Aragorn and I have a plan,” Gandalf said.

“This is folly,” Boromir burst out. “Do not put the little folk in more danger by drawing Saruman’s eye toward them. One of the rest of us can---”

“No,” Gandalf said firmly. “Saruman would expect me to pass the Ring only to one of the hobbits. But we will only take this course if Sam or Pippin agree.”

“I’d do anything to keep that villain’s attention from Frodo,” Sam declared.

“As would I,” Pippin piped up. “How will we decide?”

“Frodo must do so,” Gandalf said quietly. “If he feels able to give the Ring to another, it is he who should say whom he wishes that person to be.” He looked at Frodo. “Do you wish to decide in the morning?”

“No,” Frodo said softly. “There is only one logical choice.”

** TBC **

Avarwen:  Saruman would know there is little time left in which to act because he learned it from Merry’s mind; Merry knew that Gandalf believed the Elves were sending a ship, and soon.  And I am trying to weave LOTR ‘canon’, the “Lost” premise, and my own imagination into this story, so a lot of things will mirror the Trilogy events -- but the story won’t be long enough to get to everything (including Gandalf the White).

Dayna:  This “give and take” between author and reader is one of my favorite things about writing and sharing my stories!  I love it when we all communicate with one another.

Elven Kitten:  No special angst for Sam -- except for his usual “Frodo worry” angst!  He continues to be a very lucky hobbit.

Fallenangel126:  I don’t write about Legolas much, and it’s fun to give him all kinds of useful things to do in this story.

Galidea:  No piece of fanfiction could ever be as twisted as “Lost”!  Those writers must stay up nights, thinking up the least likely scenarios -- and then finding a way to weave them into the show.

Gods-girl2004:  Frodo loved your cuddles!  See?  He’s feeling better already!

lindahoyland:  I’ve wanted to write about a quicksand encounter ever since “By Chance or Purpose”, but never found a place for it -- until now!

LordKim:  I just had to see how the Fellowship would fare in this type of situation.  I’m so glad “Lost” inspired me to find out!  (And thank you so much for the review of “Avalanche”  I’m really thrilled that folks are still enjoying it.)

lovethosehobbits:  LOTR will never end as long as we all keep prolonging it, and wondering “what if” and “if only”.

mirthor:  Thank you so much!

my-fool-of-a-took:  There aren’t many places to weave humor into the story, but I jump at every chance I can get!  Good old Pippin.

Mysterious Jedi:  Stranded, yes... but not permanently!  Gandalf has been talking about the Elves coming to rescue them since Chapter 2.

Pearl Took:  Hee hee.  Rabidsamfan on LiveJournal is always begging people to write more Sam h/c stories.  There really aren’t that many, are there?

Pip4:  Thanks, Pip!  Yes, Boromir doing CPR on Frodo was definitely inspired by Jack bringing Charlie back on “Lost”.

PlatinumRoseLady:  Frodo is so resilient, he can take anything we writers can dish out!

Roger Gamgee:  It had been so long since the “resurrection” scene, I wasn’t sure anyone would get the connection!  This story can’t take the place of “Lost” episodes, but I’ll try to bridge the gap until we get more new episodes.

Scifirogue Kane:  I wish I had learned multiple languages the way you are -- go you!

smalldiver:  Good old Boromir -- always full of surprises... and there are a few more yet to come...

Starfire Moonlight:  Yes, the CPR for Frodo was inspired by Jack bringing Charlie back.  I just had to use that in this story somehow.  Thank you for your enthusiasm!

Vilya0:  Author alerts should be working, for both ff.net and Stories of Arda; sorry they’re not reaching you... and I’m so glad you’re enjoying this unusual tale!

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

THE ISLAND

Chapter 11 - Frodo’s Choice

“Well?” Merry asked, breaking the silence, “are you going to tell us who it is?”

“There is no need to decide so quickly,” Aragorn assured Frodo. “This is a weighty matter.”

“I’ve made my choice,” Frodo repeated. “I just need to know one thing.” Unexpectedly, he whispered a question into Aragorn’s ear. The ranger drew back and looked at Frodo for a long moment before slowly nodding.

“I don’t advise that you give the Ring to Aragorn,” Gandalf said. “Saruman would never believe---”

“Not Aragorn,” Frodo said, “but not Sam or Pippin, either.”

“Who, then?” Sam asked, puzzled.

“Boromir.”

“What?” Boromir cried out. “You would trust me, after what I said to you about Gondor’s need for the Ring?”

“Boromir, you also said, ‘not even if I saw it lying upon the sand, untended, would I take it,’” Frodo reminded him. “Aragorn assures me that Men of Gondor are truth-speakers, and that you would rather die than go back on a sworn word.”

“He is correct,” Boromir said quietly.

“Frodo,” Gandalf said, “It must be Sam or Pippin. Saruman would not believe I would give the Ring to any other person.”

“Perhaps not,” Frodo countered, “but after the attack, there might not have been time for you to ‘give’ it to anyone. Saruman’s minion would have reported back that the Man enspelled was standing over my body. Why would it surprise him to learn that someone so easily controlled would take the Ring from a dead halfling, or flaunt it in the seeing stone?”

“Those who are arrogant, expect arrogance from others,” Gimli agreed, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

“But wouldn’t someone have tried to take the Ring from Boromir?” Merry asked.

“Frodo is correct,” Aragorn said suddenly. “Saruman knows that Gandalf would not take the Ring from anyone by force, and the rest might fear to challenge such a warrior -- or be too filled with grief over Frodo’s ‘death’ to think of it, until it is too late.”

“Gandalf,” Legolas chuckled, “Frodo’s logic is flawless. With the One Ring lying at his feet -- how could the Steward’s son resist taking it?”

“Hmmm.” Gandalf smiled slowly at Frodo. “Outsmarted by a Baggins. Why does this not surprise me?”

Frodo grinned, but his smile faded as he turned to look at Boromir. “You would have to agree,” he said quietly. “What are your thoughts? You have sworn you would not take the Ring; would you be able to return it, if given to you freely?”

Boromir said nothing for a moment, then finally nodded. “Frodo,” he said gravely, “if you trust me in this, and have the strength to see the One Ring in the possession of another… I will return it. I swear it.”

“You look disappointed, Pip,” Merry said.

“I am,” Pippin sighed. “I wanted to see what it’s like to be invisible.”

“An invisible, mischievous Took,” Gandalf muttered. “I do not believe the world is ready for such a thing.”

“Who’s mischievous?” Pippin asked indignantly. “I’m completely---” The youngster’s declaration was cut off when he began coughing again.

“Let us take no action until morning,” Aragorn advised. “Frodo and Pippin need a good night’s rest, and some of us have plans to make.”

“I’ve been sleeping all day,” Frodo protested, but Aragorn shook his head.

“Rest,” the ranger said firmly.

“And I don’t need...”

Aragorn just looked at Pippin, and young hobbit closed his mouth suddenly.

“You’ll have to teach me how you do that,” Merry said to Aragorn admiringly.

While Sam and Merry made sure Frodo and Pippin were comfortable, and Legolas and Gimli cleared the remains of the meal, Boromir, Aragorn, and Gandalf stepped aside for a quiet talk.

“Boromir, what do you say to all of this?” Gandalf asked.

“I am honored that Frodo should trust me so,” Boromir said honestly. “Do you feel that he has made a poor choice?”

”No,” Gandalf admitted. “I am impressed with it. Frodo seems to understand Saruman as well -- or better -- than I do. When Saruman so arrogantly revealed his thoughts to what he must have perceived as a weak and frightened halfling, he may have sealed his own doom. No, it is not Frodo’s choice that concerns me, but Frodo, himself.”

“What do you mean?” Aragorn asked.

“To relinquish any object of power, for even a short time, is no small thing,” Gandalf said quietly, “but the One Ring is another matter entirely. To have possessed it for so many years, and see it in the hands of another...”

“You do not believe that Frodo will be able to let it go? Even for a few moments?” Boromir asked.

The wizard sighed. “I truly do not know. That is one of the reasons I believed it would be best for Sam or Pippin to receive it; Frodo has known them all of their lives, and would feel a measure of safety with them.”

“I believe he can do it, if he feels secure and trusts in us completely,” Aragorn said thoughtfully, looking back at the shelter. “The hobbits are a remarkable race, Gandalf. I do not think we will ever know everything of which they are capable.”

“I completely agree,” Gandalf said with a smile. “And the more I think about this, the more I agree with what Frodo has decided. There is always a chance that giving the Ring to another hobbit would somehow plant a seed of doubt about that person in Frodo’s mind that would never entirely fade. This way, the bond between the hobbits remains strong...”

“...and he will doubt only me,” Boromir finished the thought. “I will return the Ring to Frodo, Gandalf. I swear it on my life.”

“I believe you,” Gandalf said, clapping the Man on the shoulder.

“As do I,” Aragorn concurred. “Be at peace, Son of Gondor. Saruman believes our Company has been greatly weakened -- by the death of some and grief of those remaining... and most likely fear and distrust of a power-mad companion.” He grinned at Boromir.

“There is much to think about,” Gandalf said. “Once Frodo and Pippin are settled for the night, the rest of us must set our plans. We must be prepared for anything Saruman might do, or try -- and Frodo will need all the support we can give him.” He turned his gaze to Boromir. “As will you.”

** TBC **

Elven Kitten:  Frodo is very lucky!  Especially in his choice of friends.

Galidea:  I hope you like Frodo’s choice -- I tried to make it as unguessable as possible.

Hobbit luvr:  Yes, poor Frodo indeed!  But at least in my fics, he gets all the comfort, healing, and TLC the poor boy deserves.

InuEnki:  I’m thrilled that this story stands on its own, with or without knowledge of “Lost”.  Thank you for the reviews!

lindahoyland:  Even in canon, I always thought that Gandalf’s plans were too risky!  Why should he stop now?

lovethosehobbits:  You know I’m compelled to finish every story!  But there’s always another one waiting in the wings...

my-fool-of-a-took:  Yes, why is there always a monster on these otherwise-perfect islands?  Our poor heroes...

Mysterious Jedi:  It’s a real challenge to write a TV/movie/book story!  I’m so relieved that it didn’t fall flat on its face.

Pip4:  I hope you like Frodo’s choice!  Ah, but the plan is yet to be revealed...

PlatinumRoseLady:  This will be quite the perilous plan... hope it works!

Roger Gamgee:  I wanted Frodo’s choice to be as unpredictable as possible -- hope his logic seems plausible.  Thank you so much for your enthusiasm -- especially from such a fervent “Lost” fan.

smalldiver:  Hope you like Frodo’s choice!

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

THE ISLAND

Chapter 12 - A Mighty Gift

For the third time that morning, Frodo attempted to let go of the Ring and hand it to Boromir. Finally, he made a supreme effort and opened his hand... only to find that the Ring was not in it.

“It’s back in your pocket, Frodo,” Sam sighed. “Again.”

Frodo sighed, wiping perspiration from his brow. Sam, Gandalf, and Aragorn sat next to him, lending support, while Boromir sat across from him -- amazed at the hold the Enemy’s ring was exerting on Frodo as it determined to remain in his keeping.

“Gandalf,” Frodo finally asked in frustration, “How did Bilbo give it up? What did you say to him?”

“I reminded him that he could trust you to look after the Ring -- and that he could trust me to look after you.” Gandalf smiled at the memory. “He realized that the Ring had far too strong a hold on him, and wished to be released from its grip. Bilbo is a remarkable hobbit, Frodo, as are you. Remember that you are a Baggins, and trust in Bilbo’s belief in you. Trust my belief in you. And if you trust Boromir’s pledge, then you must believe in him, as well. Frodo...” The wizard gazed steadily into the troubled blue eyes. “You can do it.”

His eyes never leaving Gandalf’s, Frodo nodded. He reached into his pocket and drew out the Ring once again... and -- with a shaking hand -- dropped it into Boromir’s palm.

At Aragorn’s insistence, Merry had been persuaded to go as far from the uncovered palantir as could be managed. He sat with Gimli, some distance down the beach, happily winning his second game of chess from the puzzled Dwarf.

Taking a deep breath, Boromir gazed into the stone, at first seeing nothing but swirling mists. Slowly he felt as if he was lifting up, soaring high, then suddenly plunging deeply into the globe’s depths and toward the tower that Merry had described. A man, white-bearded and ancient of mien, stared at him, drawing him closer.

“Boromir,” Gandalf whispered nearly inaudibly, “don’t give him time to read your thoughts. Let him see it. Remember what you need to do.”

Boromir held up the Ring, allowing exultation to fill him. “It is mine,” he said fiercely. “Mine. We have beaten you, wizard. We leave these shores soon, taking with us the only prize you desire. This prize is... for Gondor. For Gondor!” There was no longer any pretense. Boromir spoke out with a triumphant knowledge that the enraged wizard could not help but perceive. “The Ring is mine!” he repeated.

At that moment, Gandalf cast a cloth over the stone. Boromir sat stunned, enveloped in the memory of Saruman’s piercing gaze.

“Boromir,” Aragorn said, shaking him. “Boromir, return to us.”

“It is mine!” Boromir cried. “It...” He suddenly slumped against Aragorn, drained. “What...”

“You did well,” Gandalf assured him. “I have no doubt that Saruman will now come for the Ring -- and soon.”

“Gandalf...” Frodo whispered from where he sat next to the wizard, “I... I want it back.”

“I know,” Gandalf said gently. “Boromir will return the Ring, Frodo, but not quite yet. Can you bear it a little longer?”

“Frodo,” Boromir said steadily. “I will return it to you. I have sworn it.”

Frodo was breathing heavily, his eyes on the ring in Boromir’s hand. “I know.”

“We may not have much time, and there are still a few preparations to make,” Aragorn said, getting to his feet and looking around. “Legolas and Pippin appear to be nearly finished with their task. Let us assist them.”

It was early afternoon. Gandalf, Gimli, Sam, and Merry sat under the shelter, talking quietly, while Boromir stood between the fire and the thick jungle, splitting wood with Gimli’s makeshift axe. Frodo, Pippin, Aragorn, and Legolas were nowhere to be seen.

“My son.”

Boromir looked up and gasped in amazement.

“My son,” Denethor repeated, “I have come.” He stepped out of the jungle’s depths and smiled, holding out his arms to Boromir.

Boromir’s eyes widened in amazement. It was Denethor. In looks, voice, manner... this could only be the Steward of Gondor, his father.

“Father, how do you come to be here?” Boromir asked. He took a faltering step backward. “Where are your ships?”

“Boromir,” Denethor said, coming forward, “why do you retreat from me? You will return to Gondor in honor, bearing a weapon mighty enough to strengthen our city beyond hope. Boromir, savior of the West!”

All at once, Boromir’s mind was filled with cheering crowds. Cheering him. Adulation... his city was renewed, with peace assured for a thousand years. It felt sweet.

Out of the corner of his eye, Denethor saw Gandalf suddenly get to his feet and start toward them.

“Show me the Ring,” Denethor whispered forcefully. “Quickly! Show me the mighty gift that my son brings back to his city.”

Boromir slowly pulled the Ring from his pocket and saw his father’s eyes glitter with avarice. Denethor advanced another step, and held out his hand.

“Let me touch it, my son. Let me share this glorious moment with the Ring-bearer.”

Ring-bearer. The image of Frodo, lying lifeless on the sand after taking a spear meant for him, suddenly crowded all other visions from Boromir’s mind. Such selfless courage... Ring-bearer...

Boromir abruptly threw himself to one side and shouted, “Now!”

Thick vines that Legolas had gathered from the quicksand clearing, and hidden under the sand, suddenly grew taut as Aragorn and Legolas -- hidden in the foliage -- pulled with all their strength. The piece of fuselage hidden by sand and brush, which covered the pit in which the boar had been roasted, was pulled away from beneath Denethor’s feet... and he fell with a cry.

From the edge of the deep pit, Boromir looked down at the prisoner. “You are not my father,” he said coldly. “There are no ships, no men... there is no possible way he could be here. You ensnared me once,” he continued. “Never again.”

And Saruman looked up, eyes narrowed with malice and rage.

** TBC **

AlabrithGaiamoon:  Glad you’re enjoying this rather unusual story!  It’s such fun to write.  (And I think Pippin got punished enough by swallowing all that quicksand!)

Anonymous:  Regretfully, this story doesn’t bring in any Elf-angst.  (If you’re interested, the stories of mine with Legolas as one of the major characters are “Avalanche”, “The Breaking Point”, and “Unlikely Comfort”.)

Dayna:  This is rather a fresh look at the Fellowship, isn’t it?  That’s probably why it’s such fun to write.  Thank you so much for your enthusiasm.

Elven Kitten:  No matter where Frodo goes, or what happens to him, he always has his friends to support and help him.  I love that theme in LOTR, and it’s a pleasure to carry it over to this story.

Fallenangel26:  All your questions (almost) will be answered in this chapter and the next!

Galidea:  I was so sorry to hear about your sad loss.  (sending you hugs)

grlwivblkboots:  High praise from such a mighty “Lost” fan.  Thank you!

good_one_pip:  Thank you for your reviews!  And fear not, I could never hang a hobbit (or anyone else); that was quite a disturbing image, and I wouldn’t want to bring it into one of my stories.  I love the characters too much for that!  And you really “got” the theme of this story: “What would have happened had the fellowship formed under other circumstances?”  Indeed!  I love wondering “what if”.

Hobbit luvr:  One thing you always know with my stories is that by the end, everyone will be okay!  I love happy (or at least hopeful) endings.

InuEnki:  I do find myself writing nearly as much Pippin as Frodo these days, which is fun.  They’re both such wonderful characters to explore... although I suspect I remain “a Frodo girl” at heart.

lindahoyland:  Thank you!  Even the most perilous plans can work out, if everyone plays their part.

lovethosehobbits:  I really enjoy writing about Frodo- and Boromir-shared experiences.

mirthor:  It’s important to me to write Frodo with “maturity”, and a mind of his own.  Thank you so much for highlighting that part.

Mysterious Jedi:  It was fun adding something unexpected to the story!

Pearl Took:  Thanks, Pearl!  (And I decided to put my new wallpaper on my home computer.  I utterly adore it.)

Pip4:  Thanks, Pip.  I don’t like everything to be totally predictable.

PlatinumRoseLady:  Wow, thank you for the applause and especially for the Cadbury eggs!  Yum.

Raven Aorla:  I’m loving giving Boromir some real nobility and a chance to “show his quality”.

Roger Gamgee:  What a relief that Frodo’s logic in choosing Boromir seemed sound.  I wanted to do something unexpected, but not implausible!  (Writing “Lost” fanfics is such an interesting idea -- I truly never imagined writing anything that wasn’t LOTR based.)

Rogue200315:  Thank you!  I’m so happy you’re enjoying the story.

Scifirogue Kane (and lil sis):  It isn’t easy to come up with unpredictable plot twists, but I’m glad to have managed one more!  Yes, that Saruman is in over his head (literally).

smalldiver:  Thank you for trying so hard to review Chapter 11; ff.net can be quite unpredictable, even after all these years.

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

THE ISLAND

Chapter 13 - Rescue

Boromir and Gimli hauled a glowering Saruman out of the pit, and Gandalf ordered the wizard’s hands bound. Saruman looked around in disbelief as the people he had thought dead appeared from hiding -- the other man, the Elf, one of the halflings, and...

“You live,” Saruman spat as Frodo hesitantly approached. “My incompetent minion reported that he had...” He turned to Gandalf and smiled thinly. “Did you interfere and bring this mortal back from death, my old friend? Perhaps I underestimated your willingness to use Power.”

“It was an heirloom of the Elves -- and determined friends -- that kept Frodo from death,” Gandalf said coldly. “You know little of true power, Saruman.”

Saruman laughed and looked pityingly at Frodo. “Gandalf speaks of heirlooms,” he said casually. “This one will not return it, you know,” he said with deep regret in his voice, motioning to Boromir. “The Ring is lost to you, my young friend, as completely as it is lost to me.”

Frodo gasped and shook his head. “No,” he declared. “Boromir will return it. He promised.”

Saruman quickly turned to Boromir. “Your city will fall,” he said gravely. “You know this, son of the Steward. Only the Ring can save it.”

“Do not allow him to speak further!” Gandalf declared. Merry handed Aragorn several long cloths, and Aragorn tied the gag around Saruman’s mouth before forcing him to his knees in the sand.

“Boromir!” Frodo cried out, running up to the man. “Give it back! Now!”

“Frodo, Saruman’s words are poison,” Gandalf explained. “Do not let---”’

“Frodo,” Boromir said quietly. He held out the Ring. But even as Frodo reached to take it from him, Saruman’s words echoed in the man’s head. Your city will fall... He tried to open his hand, but found himself clutching the Ring even tighter.

“Boromir,” Frodo said urgently, “the Ring cannot save your City. It cannot be used. Remember what you said to me? Not even if I saw it lying upon the sand, untended, would I take it. Boromir, do not let it take you.”

My city. The false Denethor Boromir had seen... Saruman’s greed and lust for power... that would be his father, in truth, if the Ring came to Gondor. That will be me, Boromir thought grimly. My city will indeed fall, if I allow it to happen.

Aragorn suddenly rushed to Frodo’s side and knelt, steadying him. Frodo was pale, his breathing labored. Having run on his still-healing leg, and with bruises yet on chest and back, he was in pain, and it showed. But still he held Boromir’s gaze with trust and confidence in his remarkable blue eyes.

“Boromir,” Frodo whispered, “you can do it.”

“For Gondor,” Boromir murmured. With one piercing glance at Saruman, he dropped the Ring into Frodo’s open hand. Frodo sighed with relief and sagged against Aragorn, who carried him back to the shelter, the other three hobbits in his wake.

“You see,” Gandalf said to Saruman, “there is power of which you know nothing.” He turned to Gimli and Legolas. “Guard him well,” he advised. “Círdan’s ship comes tomorrow, on the morning wind, and we will leave this place.”

“What of Saruman’s servant?” Legolas asked. “Do we leave him here?”

Gandalf nodded. “We do not have time to seek him out, and I do not believe he can cause harm on his own, here on this island. Perhaps someday he will get a second chance to redeem himself.”

“What will you do with Saruman?” Aragorn asked. “Will he not have opportunity to cause more harm once we return to Middle-earth, than he ever would have on this island?”

“He must be guarded,” Gandalf declared. “Does the fortress in the Gap of Rohan yet stand empty?”

“It does,” Boromir replied. “Neither Rohan nor Gondor maintains a garrison there.” He nodded. “It is a good choice, Gandalf. Even a wizard would be easy to guard in the ancient tower at Isengard.”

Isengard, Saruman thought. Secluded and easy to guard... or defend. It lies between the horse realm of Rohan and the halflings’ Shire. Perhaps I *will* go there. But in my own time, and not under guard. He smiled secretly to himself. My exile on this accursed island is finally over, but I have learned much from these years. In addition, Gandalf has forgotten something. Or rather... Saruman was careful not to look at Merry. ...someone. Buried deeply in the mind of this hobbit is one last command, which I will use when the time is right. I will call, and he will come to me. When the time is right... when I am once more within reach of the shores of Middle-earth.

*~*~*~*~*

Frodo was well enough, the next morning, to stand with his friends as the beautiful, stately ship approached the island and anchored in the deep water offshore. A small grey boat was lowered, and a tall, grey-bearded elf was rowed to the beach by two companions.

“Círdan,” Gandalf said with a smile. “Thank you for coming, my friend.”

Círdan clasped the wizard’s hand, then turned to the others.

“Master Dwarf.” Círdan greeted Gimli first of all the company, and bowed, to Gimli’s surprise. The stately elf spoke with Legolas and Aragorn, then greeted everyone else respectfully and without haste, seeming to know each name. The delight Sam took in meeting more elves more than outweighed -- for the moment -- his trepidation at knowing that he must soon step on board a boat -- however beautiful or seemingly well made.

When Círdan came to Frodo, he knelt and took the hobbit’s hand. “Ring-bearer,” he said gravely, “I bid you and your companions welcome.”

“Thank you, sir,” Frodo replied. “Frodo Baggins, at your service.”

“Your name is known to me,” Círdan said, “and not just from this.” With a smile, he traced with a long finger the colored letters still visible on Frodo’s hand. Pippin, seeing, blushed and shuffled his feet in embarrassment.
“I know you have been injured, Frodo,” Círdan continued seriously, “and are yet recovering. We will make your journey as comfortable as possible.”

“Sir,” Merry asked, “was anyone out looking for us?”

“Indeed they were,” Círdan replied. “The news of your disappearance spread quickly; however, once I perceived Gandalf’s thoughts and knew of your whereabouts, I was able to send out messengers.” He smiled at Pippin, who was sobbing with relief. “Your families know that you are well and safe, my young friend.” He gestured toward the ship. “Shall we depart?”

“A dwarf taking ship with elves,” Gimli grumbled, but his eyes twinkled with good humor. “This will indeed be a tale to tell.”

*~*~*~*~*

One evening, a week after leaving the island, Círdan announced that the ship was now but a short distance from the Havens and they would arrive before morning. The hobbits went to their beds, overjoyed that they would be home soon, after such a strange adventure.

Saruman had been allowed to walk on deck each day, guarded but unbound, after swearing an oath to Gandalf that he would not speak. To the surprise of many, he had kept his word, and caused no trouble. Each night his hands were once again bound, and he was restricted to his cabin.

That final night on board, when all was dark and still, Merry stirred restlessly in his sleep as a voice called to him -- insistent and compelling. Opening his eyes without fully waking, he left his bed and walked silently to the cabin which had been assigned to Saruman.

Saruman smiled in the dark as the door opened silently and Merry walked in, the hobbit’s eyes glazed and unseeing. Saruman held out his hands, and Merry came to him; and with a bit of effort, finally loosened the ropes well enough for the wizard to free himself.

You have fulfilled your final duty toward me, young halfling. Return to your room and sleep. You will awaken in the morning and remember nothing of this.

*~*~*~*~*

“He is gone,” Gandalf said grimly to Aragorn. They stood together on deck in the morning light, as the ship docked at the Havens.

“It would have been easy for him to swim to shore once we came close, if he were able to free his hands.” Aragorn clutched the railing angrily. “We should have guarded his room each night.”

Gandalf sighed. “The fault is mine, for not taking every precaution. Aragorn...” He turned to the Ranger. “It is now more important than ever that the Shire be guarded. Saruman knows now who bears the Ring, and where he dwells... and he knows a great deal more about hobbits than I would have wished. He will wait, and watch, and try nothing right away. But we must be vigilant.”

“Perhaps the time comes which you have long foreseen,” Círdan said quietly, coming to join them. “The Ring must someday be destroyed, Gandalf. It cannot forever be hidden from those who would wield it, either with evil intent or good. And now...” He smiled gently at the sight of Frodo, Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir laughing nearby at some jest. “The Ring-bearer has shown great spirit, as well as unusual strength, courage, and wisdom -- and has found unlikely allies among all the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. Perhaps someday the time will come...”

“Perhaps,” Gandalf said thoughtfully, “someday...”

** END **

AlabrithGaiamoon:  It was one of the oldest tricks in the book!  Naturally, arrogant Saruman would never suspect that anyone would use it on him.

Avarwen:  Thank you!  What fun this story was to write.  I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed it.

Azla:  I hope you enjoy “Lost”!  It’s a very unusual show.

BregoBeauty:  You discovered this story just in time!  I hope you enjoyed it.

Elven Kitten:  I’ll miss your bubbliness!  I’ll have to come up with a new story soon... :D

Hobbit luvr:  I think this was the Boromir we always knew he could be, given a second chance.

Laitaine:  I’m very happy you discovered this story, and that you enjoyed it so much.  It was a lot of fun to write, and it was a pleasure giving Boromir a noble and respected role.

lindahoyland:  Thank you so much.  I’ve really enjoyed letting the characters evolve and “show their quality” in this brave new world.

mirthor:  It’s been challenging to find unpredictable twists for this story; glad you’ve enjoyed them!

Mysterious Jedi:  It’s been such fun writing this.  Thank you for coming along for the ride.

PlatinumRoseLady:  You’re dancing!  Yay!  I hope you enjoy the ending, and thank you very much for reading.

Scifirogue Kane:  I’m so happy you (and sis!) enjoyed this story... and I hope your exams are over!

smalldiver:  I love writing ‘noble’ and strong Boromir.

Starfire Moonlight:  And the wizard escapes to fight another day!

tree:  We’ll have to strand you on a desert island so you can give up the cigarettes!