Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is owned by J.R.R. Tolkien, his family, New Line cinema, etc. I have written this for my own enjoyment. I am making absolutely no profit from my use of his wonderful creations nor is any breach of copyright intended.

Gandalf

In Rivendell's courtyard, Gandalf quietly observed his companions as they listened intently to Elrond's parting words.

Merry and Pippin's faces were a mixture of trepidation and excitement; Sam's concerned gaze flickered constantly towards Frodo, whose gentle features radiated solemnity. Boromir, proud lord of Gondor, offered Aragorn a stilted nod when the Ranger inadvertently caught his eye.

As for Legolas and Gimli ...

Gandalf sighed. The Company was not without its internal tensions and rivalries. Had it strength enough to conquer them before Sauron conquered the West?

There was little hope.

Yet a little hope was all that was needed to prevail …

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is owned by J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. Not me. I'm only dabbling my unworthy fingers in his magical world.

Credit: Tuckborough.net

Boromir

Pippin raced down the hillside so quickly he lost his balance, tumbling several metres before his descent was halted by a laughing Merry.

Boromir frowned. What folly to send children on the Quest! This was a task for men of gravitas and stealth, not reckless youths!

“Why did you do that?” he demanded of the sniggering Took.

“Merry dared me to race him.”

“What foolishness! Would you throw yourself into the sea if he bade you?”

“That would entirely depend on how warm the water was,” Pippin retorted, winking at his cousin.

Boromir lost the brief struggle not to laugh.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is owned by J.R.R.Tolkien, etc. Not me. I'm only dabbling my unworthy fingers in his magical world, and making absolutely no profit from it.

Credit: Tuckborough.net

Gimli

“But I beg you two, Legolas and Gimli, at least to be friends ...”

Gimli struggled to swallow his bitterness as Gandalf's plea resonated in his memory, made by the wizard before the Fellowship entered Moria.

Elves and dwarves had been friends many years ago – the Doors of Durin, fashioned by both races, were testament to that. So it was not an impossible request. Surely he could honour what had become Gandalf's dying wish?

Mayhap, were it any elf other than Thranduil's offspring ...

He sighed, defeated. Friendship he could not promise.

But respect ...

Yes. Gimli could manage that. For Gandalf's sake.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Gandalf's dialogue taken from The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring, Book 2, Chapter 4: A Journey in the Dark.

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. I am only borrowing his characters for this fanfiction and am making absolutely no profit whatsoever from it. Not a penny. Nor a button. Nada. Verstanden?

Merry

“Boromir!”

It was more a whisper than a shout; shock had muted Merry's voice. Boromir was dying, he knew it. There were simply too many shafts lodged in the man's chest to hope for recovery. He was fading. Soon, like Gandalf, he would leave the circles of the world altogether.

“Boromir!”

Blood from his brow mingled with hot tears as the orcs spirited Merry and Pippin away. His vision blurred as he strained to keep sight of Boromir's dwindling figure, slumped against a tree bole. And not until he was lost from sight did Merry finally succumb to merciful blackness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. I am only borrowing his characters for this fanfiction and am making absolutely no profit whatsoever from it.

Credit: lotr.wikia.com

Legolas

“I know Elves have wed Men,” said Pippin thoughtfully, watching Gimli inspect Isengard's recently shattered walls, “but has an Elf ever wed a Dwarf?”

Legolas paled. “Nay!”

Pippin frowned. “Would it be so dreadful? If you loved a dwarf maiden -”

Regretting his hasty response, Legolas smoothed his tone. “You forget that none have seen a dwarf maiden but the Dwarves themselves.”

A defeated huff. Until …

Green eyes gleamed. “Just as well. Imagine the offspring.”

Legolas balked at the thought of being partly responsible for the hairiest elves in Arda, and silently thanked Aulë for the scarcity of his mortal daughters.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. I am only borrowing his characters for this fanfiction and am making absolutely no profit whatsoever from it.

Credit: Tuckborough.net

Pippin

The Guard of the Citadel paused at the embrasure where he had supped the eve before and gazed in trepidation at the dark cloud hanging over the city. It seemed to him for a moment like the very fist of Sauron itself, readying to smite the city beneath with one swift blow.

His hand dropped unconsciously to the black sheath which housed his gleaming sword.

Battle was imminent, and he must be prepared to fight.

Or die.

Pippin swallowed. The time was fast approaching to prove he was more than a Fool of a Took.

And prove it he would.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. I am only borrowing his characters for this fanfiction and am making absolutely no profit whatsoever from it.

Credit: Tuckborough.net

Aragorn

Aragorn was more fatigued than he could ever recall being. He had scarce slept since summoning the Dead to Pelargir, for there had then been a fleet of Corsair ships to navigate north up the Anduin, and thereafter the small matter of the Battle of the Pelennor Fields …

What had remained of his strength he had gladly spent labouring to heal the wounded. Now, as he stole into his tent beyond the city walls and laid himself down to rest, he yearned for nothing more than a few hours reprieve to replenish it.

For it would soon be needed again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. I am only borrowing his characters for this fanfiction and am making absolutely no profit whatsoever from it.

Frodo

Frodo lay like a dead thing in the shallow pit they had fallen into after escaping the company of orcs.

“Catch your breath a bit, Mr Frodo. We might as well rest here until they've passed us,” whispered Sam.

The Ringbearer had no energy to reply. He was cold, tired, hungry and aching all over from a multitude of injuries and lashes. No amount of rest would comfort him.

Nothing could comfort him now.

Except …

Traitor fingers rose absently, automatically, to clasp at the circle nestled beneath his shirt when a warm hand stilled their progress.

Nothing except his Sam.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. I am only borrowing his characters for this fanfiction and am making absolutely no profit whatsoever from them.

Sam

In darkness he stood, watching the light of Galadriel's Phial slipping further away down the long firth until, finally, it was but a pinprick against the inky horizon, and then it disappeared forever.

It seemed to Sam in that moment as if Sauron had claimed victory at last.

A sob, bigger than any thus far, swelled in his chest and clawed its inexorable way up his throat, demanding release. Sam inhaled deeply through his nose and swallowed hard, mercilessly forcing it back down, smothering it for good.

Frodo's torment may have been beyond his control, but his own was not.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX