Disclaimer - I own none of the characters or places mentioned in this story: they belong to the Tolkien estate. I'm just playing.

A/N - Set between Buckleberry Ferry and Bree. This story is based on FotR movieverse, and so while I am attempting to stay true to movie canon, it will not necessarily be true to book canon. Written for Marigold's challenge page, January 2004.

Chapter 1 - Decisions

Rain pounded ceaselessly on the wooden platform as Frodo slumped, exhausted, against the ferry's support struts. Though the storm obscured almost all vision, he was able to discern the silhouettes of those he most feared turning away from the river and riding off into the night, and he pushed his limp hair out of his eyes and released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. The faint faces of his three companions, two of his kin and his faithful gardener, came briefly into view as they crowded around him, their eyes filled with concern.

"Frodo, what is going on?" said Pippin, his voice shaking slightly. "Who were those riders?"

Frodo turned to the patch of dark where the voice of his young cousin emitted from. "I don't know, Pip, I really don't."

Frodo's mind was racing: Merry had said that it was only twenty miles to the nearest horse crossing, and the riders would not take long to cover the distance on their beasts. He and Sam would have to leave almost immediately, under cover of darkness, and unseen, if that was possible in a place like Buckland. Merry and Pippin would be sworn to silence, of course, because trust them as he might, Frodo could not risk word escaping of their whereabouts or their purpose. Then there was the question of where he and Sam should go. Gandalf had told them to wait for him at Bree, but how were they to get there? Travelling by the main roads was out of the question now that pursuit was certain, and so little choice remained: they would have to leave Buckland by the eastern entrance and pray to the Valar that its residents weren't placed in peril due to their decision. Unless... unless they were to venture into the Old Forest and leave that way.

"Frodo?" Merry was calling him softly, "Frodo, we are almost at the far shore. You must be ready to disembark. We will head to the old guest house in Crickhollow for now. I do not know your quest, but it seems that the least others know of it, the better, and this is the way that will attract least attention."

"Thank you, Merry," Frodo replied faintly, barely aware of his own voice, such was the depth of his thought, but the jerk of the ferry as they hit the small dock brought him back to his senses.

"But where are we going?" said Pippin, as he hurried to keep up with the hobbits walking quickly towards Crickhollow.

"We are not going anywhere," replied Frodo. His voice was soft, but the emphasis was clear. "You will be staying behind, young cousin. I thank you for your aid in assisting me this far, but you cannot continue - it is too dangerous."

"You cannot keep me here if Merry is going." Pippin spluttered indignantly.

"He is quite right, dear Frodo. He will follow you no matter what - it would be better to allow him-"

"I will be allowing neither of you to follow me." interrupted Frodo, "You will both be remaining in Buckland."

"But you cannot travel alone!" said Pippin, treading in front of Frodo and stopping him as he attempted to speed further towards the house.

"Peace, Master Peregrin." Sam placed his hand on Pippin's shoulder, stilling him. "Mr Frodo won't be goin' anywhere alone - not while I live an' can take care of him."

"So you will allow your gardener to accompany you, but not your faithful cousins?" Merry questioned, his tone harsh. "We will fight to the death with you, you know that."

"Which is why you will not be going anywhere past Crickhollow with me. And I would appreciate it if you did not speak to Samwise in that manner," Frodo's voice was soft, but still dangerous, "You may forget it, Meriadoc, but you are still my younger cousin, and Peregrin is not even of age yet. You cannot come with me."

"But Samwise..."

"Sam is my most faithful companion, and my care was entrusted unto him by Gandalf. It was perhaps against my better judgement, but I would not now be without him."

Frodo's words stung the two cousins, and they walked the remainder of the distance to the house in silence.

As the door snicked shut behind them, it was Merry who broke the quiet.

"We know about the Ring, Frodo."

Red light flickered about the room as Sam kindled a fire in the small grate.

"You... you do?"

"We have made adequate preparations, and were waiting only for you to arrive."

Frodo stared between the two hobbits, bewildered.

"How?"

"Do not think that Gandalf did not have the foresight to arrange companions for you."

"He said that you were in danger, Frodo," Pippin interjected, "Of course we agreed to come with you! But we had to feign stupidity out in the open"

Sam gave Pippin a pointed look and then smiled at the younger hobbit, any animosities forgotten.

The air chilled suddenly as if the weather had changed at a speed beyond comprehension. The fire extinguished itself, and a heaviness seemed to surround them. A far off screech sounded into the night.

"They are here!" said Frodo, his eyes widening as he bent to pick up the pack he had abandoned upon hearing Merry's revelation. "We must leave! Now!"

"The forest," said Merry, "It is our only chance."

Chapter 2 - Whispers

Frodo shook his aching shoulders and adjusted his pack, contemplating if it was possible that there was more mud and leaf rot stuck to his feet than there was on the forest floor. It certainly felt that way: with every step he seemed to be sinking further into the ground, pushed downwards by the growing weight of his pack. He looked up at the darkening sky and wondered if it would be long before tiredness overcame them and they would be forced to stop walking until morning. It wouldn't be long; Frodo could already sense the weariness of spirits that was setting in amongst the companions, and he berated himself once again for allowing them to accompany him. It was his task, and he would never forgive himself if something happened to one of the others whilst they were assisting him.

The four hobbits walked until a small clearing came into view, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight that had managed to push its way through the dense canopy. Pippin was the first to demonstrate his exhaustion, collapsing on a leaf bed though he had barely managed to remove his pack. The tweenager sat up and drew his cloak tighter about him, shivering in the night. Frodo eyed him sympathetically.

"There can be no fires tonight, dear cousin," he said, finding his own place to lay amongst the tree roots, "These trees are not to be angered by flames unless we are about to freeze to death."

"And what will they do if we do light a fire, Mr Frodo?" said Sam, cold now the warm weight of his heavy pack had left him, "Pull up their roots an' throttle us as we sleep?"

"Quite possibly yes, Sam," replied Frodo, seriousness glinting from his eyes, bright even in the dull night.

"Have you not heard the stories, Sam?" spoke up Merry.

"Stories..."

"This is the Old Forest, older than time can tell us, and many a tale has been told of strange happenings under the boughs."

A low noise filled the cool air: Frodo had begun to hum softly, fragments of a half forgotten melody. "You know the words better than I, cousin."

"We should not sing that here, Frodo. We should not anger them."

"The singing of an old Buckland yarn will hardly cause the trees to attack us, Merry. Now should we produce an axe....."

Merry cast a cautious look up to the many branches, as if to seek their approval, and began to sing, quietly at first but gaining confidence.

"Beneath the cover,

When the night falls clear,

The wood breathes life again:

Its life is fear'd.

With those who wander,

And ne'er return,

Souls in the forest -

What did they learn?

The trees they haunt them -

Though day they sleep.

As trees they linger

Their rest is deep.

They twist and live then:

Those trees who change.

Bark grows to skin and

Their sleep to rage.

What would souls tell us,

If they could return?

From woods so twisted

Escape is earned.

None now remember."

"But how did they get like that?" said Pippin as Merry ended the song on a mournful note.

"They used to say that it was because the firstborn were lonely: they desired other beings to join them in song..." Frodo began to explain, and then paused, looking up at the dwindling expanse of deep sky above the leaves. The trees were closing in; as if they were bending down so they could hear the tale. "But the arrival of Men and the many wars made the elves forget the tree spirits they had awoken, and few now are left who know to talk to them. They are becoming angry now; they wish for company and an end to the torture they are put through."

"Who would torture a tree?"

"Men, dwarves, hobbits, even elves. Think, Pippin, your meals are not cooked using nothing but sunlight!"

The stillness in the air dissipated, and a low, ominous rumbling could be heard.

"They have been listening to us," said Merry, "We must be more careful, else we shall be stuck here."

Chapter 3 - Movements

It was Pippin who awoke first; as always, his desire for food taking priority over his need for sleep. A fog had closed in around the sleeping hobbits sometime during the night, and now the air was damp and chill. Pippin moved to examine the contents of his pack and noted uncomfortably the way in which his clothes clung to his frame, and the beads of dew which seemed to sparkle, unheld, over his skin. It would be a cold, hard day, there was no mistaking that, and Pippin regretted that in their haste to leave he had not had time to pack a further, warmer cloak.

The three older hobbits awoke a short time later, and they sat silently and ate a meagre breakfast together before starting their walk for the day. The early walking start was an unpopular choice, but once Frodo pointed out that the earlier they started, the further they would go and the sooner they would get to Bree, there was little grumbling. Frodo, for one, was eager to leave the forest and taste fresh air again, for cloaked riders or no, there was a strong sense of dread and foreboding in the shelter of the trees, and Frodo did not wish to remain in there much longer to feel the forest's wrath.

"It cannot be much further!" exclaimed Pippin, taking another heavy step in the direction of the other hobbits. The four were growing increasingly weary, their moods affected no doubt by the atmosphere in the forest.

"Cheer up, cousin!" said Merry, placing his hand on Pippin's shoulder.

"But it's so dark here, and cold too.... and I'm hungry, Merry!"

"If you eat any more today, Pippin, you will end up bigger than these trees." Frodo laughed at his own attempt at a joke, and slowed down to walk next to his cousin, thankful of the broad path they were following for more than one reason. "I have another song you might like to hear, if that would distract you for a while."

Pippin nodded and Frodo sang, the lulling melody casting a feeling of calm over the walkers.

"Though far from home with long to go

They travelled on through leaf and gloam.

Hard did they walk and run and roam,

Far out into the world below.

The hobbits four, they wandered near

A village hidden by the clouds

An inn there was, they heard the sounds,

The clink of ale, the smells so dear.

The inn refreshed them but they learned

A tale to chill their hearts and ears,

A wooded grove of ancient years -

That takes folks' souls and leaves them burned.

As night drew close the air turned cold

And blindly did the trav'lers go

But forest trees just seemed to grow

Around them as the dark grew old.

The... the... trees..."

"I'm afraid I don't remember the rest," Frodo said as he stumbled over the first lines of the next verse.

"But what happened to the travellers?" said Pippin, eager to discover their fate.

"I wish I knew," Frodo replied. In truth, he did remember the final stanzas of the song, but he felt loath to admit that to his companions. The end that the travellers came to was not one that he felt he should tell to his friends when they themselves were in such a similar predicament, and he was now feeling sorry that he had even begun the tale.

"Perhaps you should make one up, Master Pippin," said Sam, moving forward to level with Frodo, who smiled gratefully at the fair haired hobbit.

"Rightly, Mr Frodo, I remember that tale, it bein' one of Mr Bilbo's an' all," whispered Sam to Frodo, "An' I think you did the right thing, forgettin' it around the youngun'"

Frodo could not help but chuckle at Sam's propensity to refer to Pippin as "the youngun'", and Sam looked at him strangely for it.

"I've got it!" Pippin announced proudly, as the four hobbits leant against the base of a particularly large tree to take a short rest.

"What, Pippin?" said Merry.

"The end of the song, silly!" said Pippin, pushing Merry gently.

Frodo, Sam and Merry looked expectantly at Pippin in between concentrating on not spilling water as they gulped it from the skins they carried.

"The trees they tried to harm the four,

As penance for the deeds of past,

But against brave hobbits could not last,

And fell like leaves upon the floor.

The hobbits cheered for winning the day,

And walked with laughter to the sun,

The fields of gold, where they could run,

And chase the darkness far away."

Pippin ended the poem with a small bow and took up his place once again against the three.

"That was very well done, my Pippin, but you should not talk of trees that way in a forest such as this."

A heavy silence seemed to fill the air as Merry's voice trailed off, and he turned to face Frodo and Sam, wary of the sudden mood change of the forest. They were slumped against the gnarled roots of the ancient tree, their faces peaceful in slumber.

"Merry!" Pippin cried in alarm, and Merry turned back to see his cousin entwined in strong roots that had moved themselves silently to a position of attack.

"Help me, Merry! It hurts..." Pippin whimpered, as the snakelike roots squeezed his limbs tight and Merry had a sudden vision of the tree breaking Pippin's arms and legs as easily as he could snap a slight twig.

Without taking more than half a second to think of the dangers he might be putting himself in, Merry shook his head to rid himself of the horror, and then leapt up, grasping the tree roots that were quickly taking a hold of Pippin's torso and neck. The bark was rough, and Merry's small hands struggled to grip the thick roots enough to pull them free of his cousin. Desperately, he stood back from the lethal tree and searched his pockets in hope of finding something that would help him. Matches would be useless in the damp conditions, and Merry knew better than to start a fire in a forest, but a knife would be just what he needed.

"A knife!" Merry said out loud, remembering the sharp knife Sam carried for cooking. Hope shining in his eyes, he rooted in the pack that lay at the sleeping hobbit's feet.

Moments later, Merry had procured the knife and stood poised to brandish it and draw the roots away from his cousin. Pippin had fallen silent sometime in those long minutes, and Merry knew that he was running out of time.

One hack: the roots drew tighter about the limp form.

Two hacks: Merry managed to chip off a piece of bark, and the tree lessened its grip on Pippin somewhat.

Three hacks: an almighty roar sounded from somewhere within the tree and Pippin was released; thrown, like a young hobbit would toss a ball, into the clearing.

Merry dropped the knife and turned to run to his now conscious but dazed cousin, but the tree, of a kind that none of the hobbits could easily name, focused its wrath now on its attacker and lashed its mobile roots out and around the hobbit's legs.

Ooof. Merry was pulled to the ground and then raised into the air, dangling by his ankles. Had the situation been less perilous, it would have been a sight to see, but that thought only appeared briefly in Frodo's mind as he looked blearily at the scene he was presented with as the enchanted sleep ended abruptly.

He stood up as quickly as he could, trying to shake off the odd heaviness that resided in his protesting limbs, and woke Sam with an urgent push. They would have to hack at the wayward roots, much as Merry had done, and hope to Elbereth that the tree released him gently and did not go on to do further damage to the hobbits.

"Mr Frodo?" Sam asked hazily, before seeing the desperate scene laid out before him and springing to his feet.

"We have to save Merry," Frodo said grimly, bending down and picking up the discarded knife. "Ready?"

Chapter 4 - Healing

"Merry? Merry? Can you hear me? It's Frodo... I need you to answer?"

Thick fog drifted lazily in Merry's vision, and he struggled to see the path ahead of him. He shuddered at what he had just experienced - and he had experienced it, hadn't he? It hadn't just been a particularly vivid pipeweed induced dream, had it? The sudden sharp pain that coursed up Merry's left leg seemed to confirm its reality. The fog was thinning slightly now and he was able to make out the silhouettes of his friends in the distance. One of them seemed to be calling to him, but his hearing must have been affected by the fog as well as his sight because he could not make out which of the hobbits it was.... possibly Frodo.

"Merry?"

The voice grew louder now and sounded to be anxious. Was something wrong? Perhaps they needed him: in which case he would go to them. Merry gritted his teeth against the growing pain - funny, he didn't remember how it came about - and ran to his friends.

"Merry?"

Frodo smiled as Merry reached him and hugged him tightly, the younger hobbit closing his eyes as he buried his face in the dark curls.

Merry's eyes fluttered open and he was greeted with three concerned faces leaning over him. His whole body ached horribly, but the pain seemed to be concentrated in one of his ankles... or was that both?

"Merry, look at me." Frodo called softly to his cousin, wanting to ensure that his head had taken no hurt.

Merry screwed up his eyes to clear his vision and then focused upon Frodo, the other two faces having retreated. Where Sam was, Merry did not know, but Pippin was sat by his side, stroking one of his hands with his two trembling own. Memories flooded back to Merry as though a wall had just been knocked down, and images of Pippin being tossed aside like a small hobbit's broken ragdoll filled his head.

"Pippin?!" he said urgently.

"Pippin is fine," said Frodo, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth. "He is shaken, but has taken no further hurts than a few cuts and bruises. He will recover fully when he sees that you are well, I am sure of that."

Merry pondered over Frodo's words and tried to remember how he himself had come to be injured. He could see himself freeing Pippin from the tangles of roots, but after that, his memories faded back into oblivion.

"Frodo," he managed weakly, the pain increasing more as he shifted his position on the soft bed of blankets he lay upon. "What happened?"

Frodo and Sam had fought hard against the tree, hacking at it as best they could with their hobbit strength, but still it had grasped firmly onto the unconscious hobbit, suspended several feet in the air. Pippin lay where he had landed, seemingly uninjured, but clearly shocked, and transfixed by the sight of Merry being dangled so.

When the tree had shown no sign of abating at the hobbits actions, they began to grow desperate. Emotions had started to take the place of rationality and Frodo had abandoned the knife to gather small sticks and twigs. He placed them in a haphazard manner about the base of the tree and Sam, having caught on to the new course of action, produced a small box of matches and a flask of cooking oil from his pack. They had stood facing the imposing being in front of them.

"Let him go." Frodo had said clearly and steadily to the malevolent tree, "Or we light the fire."

Whether or not the tree had genuinely been affected by this threat, or whether it had simply grown tired of the consequences of its bit of play, neither Frodo or Sam would ever find out, but the tree had lowered its flailing roots and dropped Merry to the ground.

"You were so brave, Frodo," said Merry as Sam returned and proceeded to tend to his hurts.

"We was only doin' what you yourself did, Mr Merry," said Sam.

"From the state of Pippin, we gather that you were something of the hero, dear cousin. Not that Pippin has spoken yet..."

Merry looked questioningly at the two hobbits, and then to Pippin, who was still at his side.

"We think that Pippin is a little overwhelmed, Merry. It is no surprise, given that he saw more than we did, and what we saw when we awoke was rather bewildering, not to mention frightening. He is a little shocked, but will no doubt be his usual, noisy self in a little while." Frodo smiled at Pippin, who seemed to have calmed somewhat since Merry had regained consciousness, and was rewarded with a small smile in return. "See... he's recovering already."

"Now about your hurts, Mr Merry."

"I think I've hurt my leg," said Merry, wincing as Sam rolled up the leg of his breeches.

"Well that's understandable, seein' as you were dangled by one ankle by an evil tree. You're mighty bruised an' a bit swollen, but there doesn't look to be anything broken." Sam finished his examination and rooted once again in his pack, grateful that he had had the foresight to include a meagre aid kit. He was no healer, but Bell had always made sure that her children never went unprepared for a situation like this.

"Owwww...." Merry moaned as Frodo and Sam between them splinted and bandaged the injured ankle.

"There," said Frodo, "You'll be right as rain in no time." he ruffled Merry's hair and then took his hand, helping him up.

"Come on Pip, you can let go now..." Pippin's hand remained tightly entwined with Merry's, his usually animated face pale and still.

Pippin lessened his grip somewhat, but did not disengage himself from his cousin.

"What happened to Pip's pack?" asked Merry, noting its absence.

"Once you had been freed, we picked up you and the packs and ran into another clearing - this time with nothing larger than a thorn bush surrounding us. It was only when we put everything down that we realised it was missing, but by then it was too dangerous to return."

"But what about his clothes? His food?"

"Don't you worry, Master Merry, we have more than enough clothes between us, an' we're stoppin' off in Bree so we can restock food shortly too. An' between you an' me," Sam lowered his voice to a whisper, "Most o' Pippin's stuff weren't in his pack - it was in his pockets, an' there it remains."

"But... but it was a tree!" said Pippin, breaking his uncharacteristic silence several hours after the incident occurred, "Trees aren't supposed to do that."

"Well there's trees an' there's trees," said Sam, letting Merry rest his weight on him as they continued through the forest, "An' that weren't no tree as I'd reckon."

"I remember Ma telling me about tree shepherds once, but she said that they look after the forest and everything in it..." Merry's face contorted in pain once again as he slipped on a protruding tree root.

"I think trees are like hobbits," said Frodo, trying to shed some light on a subject he really knew very little about.

"Beggin' your pardon, Mr Frodo, but I don't see any hobbits tryin' to strangle another hobbit for singin'."

"Yes, but... well, most hobbits are friendly and get on well with other hobbits, but all hobbits are different and some aren't so friendly. Then you get hobbits, much like my own very dear relatives, the Sackville Bagginses, who will go out of their way to cause others misery. So perhaps some of the tree shepherds are like that as well."

Merry, Pippin and Sam considered Frodo's point in silence as they moved slowly onwards. A sight in the distance stopped them abruptly.

"Is that...?"

"Could it be...?"

"But that would mean....."

"Sunlight." Frodo pronounced emphatically, a grin spreading on his face.

Chapter 5 - Leaving

Pippin ran into the clearing, spreading his arms as if he were trying to fly, and smiling his first real smile in days. The beam of sunlight danced on the scattering of autumn leaves that covered the floor and made millions of dust particles glitter, causing Pippin to look as though he were in a strange, dreamlike world. The sight was quite beautiful to behold, and the hobbits watching knew that it would be one they would remember should harder times strike them upon their journey.

Between them, Frodo and Sam supported Merry as they trod carefully to where Pippin stood. The clearing was on a slight incline, and they were able to see the world spread out ahead of them. Much to the hobbit's surprise, the trees did not continue forever. In fact, they thinned out remarkably in what looked like less than a league away from them, and then ceased to be apart from as green dots on the horizon less than a league further than that.

The imminent end of their journey in the half dark brought cheer to all of the hobbit's hearts, and the sight of Bree in the distance thoughts of ale to their stomach. It had been a harder journey than necessary, but the winding and ever changing paths of the forest, not to mention malicious and horrifying tree spirits, saw to that. Now however, they had the joy of a journey in sunlight, to a village where they could rest and be refreshed. Not even the sighting of a Black Rider could now dampen their spirits. Not that they could imagine one appearing in the broad daylight of bright sunlight.

"Well...." said Frodo, "We survived the horror of the Old Forest - that's one you can tell the folks of Buckland, Merry."

Merry smiled weakly and focused on the village far ahead of him.

"We should reach Bree by nightfall."

Frodo, being the oldest and therefore most responsible of the hobbits, knocked at the great wooden gate as hard as he could. The rain was chilling them inside and out, and the hobbits only hoped that it had not kept the gatekeeper from his duties. There was no sound but the splashing and beating of the storm for a few minutes, but eventually the grating sound of a doorway could be heard. A weathered face poked out of the top window panel of the door and then disappeared, and Frodo started as it then reappeared a few inches from his own cloaked head.

"Who goes there?" the coarse voice asked.

They had arrived.