Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story "Bound", which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.
Betareader: Many thanks to Surreysmum, who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.
Warning: Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. Special warning for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me. In this chapter I am directly lifting dialogue both from Peter Jackson's movie "The Fellowship of the Rings (Extended Edition) and from J.R.R. Tolkien's book "The Lord of the Rings" again. Original dialogue will be marked with proper reference notes. Please bear with me!
Guide: Occasionally, I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:
// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********; "speech"; 'thoughts'
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.
-- Part VII: Crossing The Mountains --
Boromir of Gondor stared sourly into the growing dawn. He was cold, he was tired, and he felt unjustly treated. This was the third night in a row that he'd had to take one of the watches. And even though he normally wouldn't mind so much, and was completely willing to do his fair share of duties for the Fellowship, he wasn't prepared to do so just to give that Ranger and that Elf a chance at an undisturbed romp in the bushes.
At least, Aragorn could have had the decency to take one of the watches before he went and took his pleasure of his little bed-toy. After all, this was what he had forced Boromir to do the night before last. But no! The Ranger had insisted that he and his bed-toy couldn't be inconvenienced by little things like that, and so the Dunadan had simply left his share of the duty for the others.
Angrily, Boromir cast a look back at the camp to the two lumps he knew to be the sleeping forms of the Elf and the Ranger. At least Legolas lay still now. From the beginning of Boromir's watch – and maybe even before, probably since the two got back to the camp earlier last night – the Elf had tossed and turned, sometimes even quietly whimpered, so much that Boromir had wondered why it did not wake the Dunadan the Elf lay nestled against.
But the Northener had been obviously undisturbed by the Elf's apparent nightmares. It seemed for all his claims to care, the moment the other man got his pleasure, he could sleep like a stone.
Once or twice during his watch Boromir had been close to waking the Elf himself. But Legolas slept closely entwined in his master's arms, and Boromir doubted very much his interference would be welcome – neither to the Elf nor to his master.
Boromir himself had not slept well this night; in fact, he had hardly found any rest at all. When Aragorn had left the camp with his bed-toy the evening before, it was all he could do to force himself not to follow them. Black jealousy had kept him awake and tormented him with images of the Elf in the other man's arms, and it didn't help that he knew the Ranger's attentions were more welcome than his own. He had found no rest until the two were back, two whole hours later; then he had turned around, determined to ignore them and find sleep. But only shortly afterwards, he had woken again when Legolas got up and left the camp, only to return much later. And shortly afterwards, it had been Boromir's turn to take the watch, anyway.
Boromir cast a last dark look at the entwined pair, then turned around again. He resumed his brooding, staring into the slowly growing light.
He did not understand that Elf at all. He recalled again the way he had found him and Aragorn only five days ago – the Elf half-naked, hands bound, splayed over his master's knees and being brutally beaten. Of, course, the punishment of servants and subordinates was quite a common thing, even in Gondor, and a beating, even a brutal one, was well within the range of what Boromir was used to. There had been times, once or twice and not that long in the past, when his own father had given him such a beating. And Legolas was a slave. That Aragorn subjected him to such harsh punishment was in itself nothing to be alarmed about, although the Ranger never had disclosed what the slave had done to warrant such harsh penance. Still, the man's handling of the Elf had been brutal enough. And the cruel ritual Aragorn had forced on his slave afterwards had hardly been any better.
Legolas had been very subdued the following day, and even Aragorn's noble gesture of defending him against the Dwarf had not managed to raise his spirits. The following night, as far as Boromir could tell, the Elf had avoided his master. And yet, just the day after that he had followed him around like a small puppy dog again, hoping for a pat. When Aragorn had sent his slave to Boromir that night anyway, the Elf had clearly been subdued again and less than happy to follow the command.
Boromir had been gentle. He had done his best to show the Elf that there were alternatives to his cruel and abusive master; that if Legolas would just come to him out of his own will, he would be only too happy to protect him from that Ranger of the North. He had even made it clear that he would be happy to keep Legolas exclusively and not share him with anyone.
He had gone out of his way to make the Elf enjoy his touch and desire him.
And yet, as soon as their bed-play was over, Legolas meekly kept to himself and avoided him the whole following day. Of course, he had avoided Aragorn, too, probably fearing the palpable anger and jealousy of the man; but in the evening, the Ranger only had to snap his fingers, and the Elf was back within his arms, happily nestled against him, and Boromir was just so much empty air.
And yet, after he and his master got back from their romp, the foolish Elven slut had nightmares, whatever the cause.
Was this so-called 'heir of Isildur' so much preferable to him, then, abusive as that excuse for a noble was, than the oldest son of the ruling Steward of Gondor?
Angrily, Boromir looked back over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. He could see Legolas stir, then gently disentangle himself and get up. Then the Elf bowed down again and tucked his still sleeping master back under the blanket. Aragorn just grumbled something unintelligible and burrowed himself deeper under the cloth; despite his usual alertness, the Ranger stayed asleep.
Legolas straightened, saw Boromir watching him and gave the Gondorian a nod. He grabbed his weapons and both his and his master's water skin and left the camp in the direction of a water hole the Fellowship had found the evening before. Apparently, it was his task to get supplies for breakfast this morning.
Boromir pursed his lips. Then he got up and followed the Elf. He did not go the whole way to the water hole, though, but lingered just a few steps outside the camp.
He would not abandon his post; but it would be of best if not everybody heard what he would have to say once the Elf got back.
Maybe it was time to remind that little slut that there was still a bargain to keep, and that he would not get rid of Boromir so easily.
_____________ o _____________
When Legolas returned to the camp, he found his path blocked by Boromir.
The man of Gondor lingered some ten steps outside the camp, a little out of sight from the Fellowship, among a few bushes. At first, Legolas thought the Adan had sought his solitude to relieve himself, so he just gave him a polite nod and meant to pass him quickly; but instead of nodding back and letting him pass the Gondorian stepped into his way.
The man of Gondor gave him a leer. "Good morning, little Elf," the Adan said, "did you have a good night?"
Legolas was taken aback. Even without the provocative and belittling address, he wouldn't have liked the Adan's tone, and the smile of the man and his whole posture was unsettling enough. However, Boromir had not attacked him, yet, and while Aragorn had allowed him to defend himself, Legolas did not believe that a provocative posture alone counted as an excuse to fight the Gondorian. So he forced himself to give a polite bow.
"Thank you and a good morning to you, too, My Lord," he said. "I cannot complain. And yourself? Did you have a good night?"
Behind the man, Legolas could hear the quiet noises of the Fellowship slowly stirring and the camp waking. He was relieved. Maybe, with some luck, he could end this before it got ugly...
Unfortunately, the man of Gondor had other ideas.
Boromir narrowed his eyes. Did that Elven slut mean to mock him?! He cocked his head and gave the Elf an unseemly gaze.
"Actually, no, because I spent it lonely," he said. "I could have done with someone to warm me up."
Legolas did not know what to say. He stayed mute for a moment, hoping the Gondorian would step away and let him pass. But of course, that was too much to hope for.
The Elf's apparent lack of reaction rankled Boromir. He took a step closer.
"Well, I hope you enjoyed being in your master's arms last night, little Elf," he said. "But tonight, it will be my turn again. And I'm looking forward to it!"
Legolas swallowed. He still didn't know what to say; after all, he could hardly deny the man of Gondor! He bowed his head. Then he looked up again, relieved, and in the same instant Boromir felt a heavy hand settling on his shoulder.
"He will be with you again tomorrow night, Boromir," Aragorn said calmly. "Tonight he will have for himself."
Angrily, Boromir spun around. "Oh?" he said, "And why, pray, should that be? Did you wait another night before you took your Elf to bed after he was with me?"
Legolas paled. Apparently, Boromir was not himself, too angry to think clearly. If the two men started fighting over him, that fight could easily end in bloodshed. And Aragorn was weaponless; he had left his swordbelt in the camp. Carefully, Legolas readied himself to interfere.
But Aragorn stayed calm. "I told you I would take care that Legolas wasn't exhausted," he said. "If we do this, giving him every third night for himself sounds reasonable enough. But if you think we should settle for a less frequent arrangement, I am willing to listen."
Boromir just stared at him angrily for another moment, then he shrugged. "Whatever," he said, "just remember to keep the bargain!"
And with that he stepped around Aragorn and walked back to the camp without another word.
Aragorn took a deep breath and his shoulders slumped a bit. He looked at his Elf.
Legolas bowed his head.
Aragorn sighed. "I'm sorry, Little Leaf," he said. "I still think that this bargain is for the best. And whatever Boromir thinks, we should not plan too much ahead, anyway; soon enough, the Fellowship may find themselves hunted, and who knows what will happen then?"
He hesitated a moment, reaching out and touching his Elf's shoulder. He feared the reproachful look when Legolas raised his eyes again. But when the Elf looked up at him, his expression was remarkably calm.
"I know, my Lord," he said. "You explained it to me, and I do understand. Still, I do not enjoy it."
Aragorn caressed his face. "I know, Little Leaf. Me neither," he said. "Did you sleep well?"
Regretfully, Legolas shook his head. He avoided his master's eyes. "I'm afraid I will find not much rest for some time, Aragorn," he said. "I seem to be... haunted by bad dreams of late."
Aragorn narrowed his eyes, then bowed his head. "I had hoped to give you better ones, last night, melethron," he said. "Do you think it is the ring?"
It sounded oddly hopeful, and he seemed relieved when Legolas nodded.
Then the Elf looked up and searched his eyes. He took his master's hand between his own and kissed it. Looking at Aragorn, he said very seriously:
"Last night, you gave me a great gift, My Lord. Thank you."
Aragorn actually blushed. "It was my pleasure, Little Leaf," he said. "I just wished..." he didn't continue. His face looked wistful.
Legolas kissed his fingers again. "I know, Estel," he said gently, "Thank you."
Then he let him go. "If you will excuse me, the Hobbits wait for the water..."
And with a last respectful bow, he stepped around his master and returned to the camp, leaving Aragorn where he stood, and somewhat puzzled.
_______________ o ________________
An enticing smell of roasted sausages wafted over to Aragorn from the little fire where Sam was making a meal. The smell mixed well with the well refined smoke of pipeweed of Gandalf's and Frodo's pipe, not to mention his own, and Aragorn felt his mouth water. He stretched, relaxing and enjoying the shining sun and the peaceful noises of the Fellowship around him.
Aragorn sat on one of the boulders, watching Boromir spar with Merry and Pippin. Apparently, the Gondorian had been forgiven by the Hobbits for his role in the humiliating bargain he and Aragorn had struck concerning Legolas, for today, Merry and Pippin had asked to take up their sword-fighting lessons again. Aragorn was sure that this change of mind on the side of the Hobbits was largely due to Legolas himself, who had quietly encouraged the Hobbits to mend the gaps within the Fellowship.
In any case, there had been another quiet conference between the Hobbits and the Elf during their march this morning, and only afterwards had the two Hobbits asked Boromir for more lessons with the sword. Aragorn was equally aware that he himself had not yet been forgiven, for all four Halflings still treated him with substantially more distance than they had done before his and Legolas' secret came out. He was sure that this hesitation was in no way Legolas' doing; while the Elf had avoided him the day before, today he had given the Hobbits no indication that he feared or was trying to avoid his master. But apparently it wasn't enough. Aragorn suspected that nothing he or Legolas could say or do would earn him back the trust the four Hobbits had shown him after their first journey from Bree to Rivendell together. But then, it was probably too soon to expect that much. He just hoped he could regain their full trust with time.
He cast a quick look over his shoulder to the place where Sam and Frodo quietly chatted with each other, apparently joking about their eager cousins, eagerly exchanging blows with Boromir. Behind them, watching out for the Fellowship, stood his Elf. Legolas looked out over the plains around them, making sure no possible threat could take them unawares. The Elf had volunteered for this duty, and Aragorn suspected he had done so because this way he could keep to himself.
Inwardly, Aragorn sighed. At least, Legolas did not seem as subdued today anymore by Aragorn's decision to keep to the bargain. He seemed to have resigned himself to his master's logic, although he still didn't like it. The Elf had kept to himself most of the day, but he had not seemed as subdued or afraid to Aragorn as yesterday, just deep in thought. Apparently whatever nightmare had been haunting him last night was still troubling him. Briefly, Aragorn mused if there was anything he could do to cheer him up, but he suspected it would be best if he just left him alone for a while.
Giving his Elf a last, tender look, Aragorn turned back and concentrated on the events before him again. Pippin parried another sequence of blows the way Boromir had taught him, and Aragorn felt compelled to remind the Halfling shortly: "Move your feet!"(2)
The Hobbit was so immersed in his training that he did not even hesitate, he just complied. Merry, beside him, applauded.
"You look good, Pippin!"
Pippin smiled. "Thank you!"
Boromir turned to Merry and attacked. "Two, One, Five," he reminded, counting the blows and parries. He nodded appreciatively, when the Hobbit caught all his blows with his little sword. "Faster!" he commanded, and quickened his pace.
The Hobbits were eager to learn, Aragorn noticed, but they still would take a long time before they could hope to defend themselves in a real fight. He just hoped they would have that much time to learn. He had an uneasy feeling about the near future, and it strengthened with every night. He was astonished they had had that much luck up until now.
From the place nearby where Gandalf sat on a boulder, enjoying his pipe, he could hear the voice of the Dwarf:
"If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note they're not, I'd say we were taking the long way round. Gandalf, we could pass through the mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome!"
His voice sounded somewhat petulant. Ever since the confrontation with the Elf four days ago, Gimli had been mostly ignored by most of the Fellowship, especially the Hobbits and Aragorn. Gandalf had taken care to treat him fairly, and Boromir had exchanged a word or two with him, but mostly he had been avoided. Legolas had taken special care to be as far from the Dwarf as he could at all times. So had the Hobbits. If Boromir – and to some extent, Aragorn – were forgiven by the four Halflings for their treatment of the Elf, clearly, Gimli was not. At least not yet.
As for the Dwarf's suggestion...
Aragorn felt a chill run down his spine. Moria! He had none but ill memories from his one and only venture into the abandoned mines, and even though the Dwarves since then had sent an expedition to recolonize that place, he could not shake the feeling that their attempt had gone ill. His rangers had heard nothing of the Dwarven colony, and Gimli's own company had told at the council back in Rivendell that they had lost all contact with their kin in Moria long ago. Even more, Aragorn could not shake an ill feeling when he thought about taking that path. He just knew that if they went that way, something would go terribly wrong.
Great dark wings, made of shadow... the face of his Elf, white as snow, paler than he had ever seen him, frozen in utter terror... Fire and shadows reaching for them... the company, caught, no way out, running for their lives... Certain death for one of them, Gandalf's pale face, urging them to fly... He himself, for moments unable to move, frozen in horror... the feeling of loss, so overwhelming that he thought he would surely break... Boromir shouting his name, urging him to move on, while he stood frozen...
Aragorn shook his head free of the images. He had no idea if they were true foresight or images planted in his mind by his own fears. He only knew that he was very sure he did not want to go through Moria again. And Legolas...
He cast another quick look over his shoulder to his Elf. The first time he had gone through Moria had been during one of the times when he had left Legolas behind, securely in the care of his rangers, namely Halbarad. It had been an ill trip, and he had been lucky to escape the Black Pit alive at that time. He did not care much for the memories. He could only imagine what the darkness of the mines, together with the lack of every connection to living nature, might do to his Elf.
To his relief, he heard Gandalf answer the Dwarf calmly: "No, Gimli. I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."
Aragorn saw Legolas' shoulders relax a bit and nodded to himself. He concentrated back on Boromir and his eager students again. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Legolas changed his place, taking a post at the other side of the camp; but before he could look at him, he was distracted by a loud cry of pain.
Merry let his sword fall and shook his hand. Boromir exclaimed alarmed: "Sorry!"
Aragorn shrugged. Such things happened during training with weapons; they would get used to it. He wasn't prepared for the Hobbit's reaction, though.
Without further warning, Merry kicked Boromir in the shins. Pippin joined in with a loud "Get him!", and in the next instant, the two Hobbits were upon the surprised Gondorian, kicking his legs out under him and holding him to the ground. There was a loud commotion with yells of "For the Shire!" and "Hold him! Hold him down, Merry!"
Boromir could probably have himself successfully defended against the attack, except he was laughing so hard. So did the Hobbits.
Aragorn laughed, too. After all the pain and discord of the last few days, it was like a deliverance to watch these three engaging in their idle antics and carefree mock-fight.
He took another pull on his pipe, then he finally decided to rescue his fellow human. He stood up. "Gentlemen, that's enough!" he declared commandingly, stepping close and bowing down to pluck the Halflings off Boromir.
In the next moment, he felt his legs pulled out under him and fell with a surprised yell, landing unceremoniously on his back. The apples he had stored in the bags of his coat for later consumption rolled about everywhere. The Hobbits gave a triumphant shout, and Boromir was laughing.
Aragorn resigned himself to his fate and joined in their laughter. For a moment he just lay there and let them gloat. He nearly expected his Elf to come help him up, amused at his master's misfortune. When no help of the sort was forthcoming, he got up on his elbows and looked, somewhat irritated, over to his slave.
Legolas was not looking at them. He stared intently at a dark patch at the sky, something like smoke flying in the wind, except it seemed rapidly to be getting closer. Aragorn was instantly alarmed. His tension transferred itself to Boromir, who followed his gaze and narrowed his eyes.
But it was Sam who asked: "What is that?"
Legolas didn't answer. He stared with drawn brows at the shape.
The Dwarf gave the Elf a doubtful look and shrugged. Casting an uninterested gaze into the direction of the shape, he said: "Nothing. It's just a wisp of cloud!" And he turned around.
But Boromir had gotten up now and objected: "It's moving fast. Against the wind!"
Aragorn got up. "What is it, Little Leaf?" he asked quietly.
Then Legolas shouted: "Crebain, from Dunland!" and Aragorn felt himself react instantly and before his mind even had time to register. He grabbed his sword and his things, yelling "Hide!" and was on the run for cover, gesturing to Boromir and yelling at him to do the same, before he knew what he was doing. Without once looking at him, Legolas did the same. They acted as they always had in battle, as two parts of a whole. All around them, the Fellowship followed their example, for once not questioning but just trusting in their judgment. Boromir and his students found a cave to cover them, and Sam killed the fire. Gandalf was already hidden, and so was the pony. Aragorn made it under a overhanging rock with Frodo and Sam, mere moments before the hateful beast passed over them with terrible noise.
It lasted only moments, but these moments were like a small eternity for Aragorn. He was reminded of his nightmares.
Dark wings, danger, the Fellowship hunted... urgency, no time to rest or to take care of his Elf...
'At least I have made sure Legolas will be safe!' he thought grimly. 'It will not happen this way, now!'
Still, he rolled his eyes at their misfortune as the host of villain birds passed over them. When the birds were gone, flying back to the south, a very subdued company scrambled back out of their hide holes to gather around the wizard.
Gandalf's face was grim. "Spies of Saruman," he stated grimly. "The passage south is being watched!" He looked up to the mountain. "We must take the pass of Caradhras!"(3)
Aragorn caught a glimpse of Legolas' face, where he stood behind the wizard. It was pale and troubled. Aragorn sighed. Passing over the mountains meant passing though the Golden Wood. And after everything that had happened – including the near duel between Legolas and Gimli - he was not very keen to take the path through Lothlorien either.
But there were hardly any alternatives. At least, he mused, now Legolas did not need to fear anymore that his and his master's secret would be revealed. Stoically, he shrugged and started to pack his belongings for the long, hard march over the mountain passes.
Boromir looked troubled. Finally he spoke up. "I would still advise us to go south and stay west of the Misty Mountains," he said, "and take our chance with the Horse Lords on our way to my city. I do not see why we have to take the mountain road just because of a flock of birds, whether they be spies of Saruman or not.
But if we have to go over the mountain, then I will add a word of advice, if I may."
He looked sceptically at the threatening heights, white and snowy as they rose before them.
"I was born under the shadow of the White Mountains and know something of journeys in the high places. We shall meet bitter cold, if no worse, before we come down on the other side. It will not help us to keep to secret if we are frozen to death. When we leave here, where there are still a few trees and bushes, each of us should carry a faggot of wood as large as he can bear(4)."
Sam looked at him approvingly, then he patted the pony. "And Bill could take a bit more, too, I think," he said.
Gandalf looked at them grimly and sceptically. Then he shrugged. "Very well," he said. "But approve of it or not, from now on we must take pains to keep secret. We must not use the wood – not unless it is a choice between fire and death(5)."
Boromir made a face at his comment, but then he merely shrugged and turned around, wandering off to gather firewood. The others followed. Soon enough the Fellowship was scattered, busy following Boromir's advice.
It was there among the bushes that Boromir got the chance to confront Legolas again.
"So," he challenged, "it seems that now we will have to postpone my next chance to be with you for a few days. Does that pleases you, sir elf?"
Legolas turned around to him watched him calmly. But instead of showing fear or even some disgust, the Elf merely met his gaze and studied him.
When he didn't reply, Boromir finally said: "Well? Have you nothing to say for yourself?"
Legolas looked at him serenely. "What would you have me say, my Lord?" he asked. "Two days ago I was first sent to you, and you made it easy for me by being gentle. It was a gift that you made me and I was grateful. You gave me reason to hope that this would be easier for me than I had first expected. Have I been mistaken? Do you wish to take that gift back from me now?"
Boromir stared at the Elf disbelievingly. "You do not wish to share yourself," he said, "and yet you agree to it so easily? or do you look forward to it?" he asked, somewhat taken aback by the calm reaction. "If your master truly cared about you, why would he agree to share? If you were mine..."
Legolas took a step closer. "Yet I am not," he said. "I belong to my Lord Aragorn, and I am his to command. Would it truly please you if I changed my loyalties that easily?"
The man narrowed his eyes, prepared for an attack. But the Elf just shrugged.
Finally he said calmly: "My master has agreed to keep the bargain, Boromir. He is a man of his word. Even if our next chance to be together be delayed, you need not fear that you will be deprived of me."
It sounded bitter, though, and resigned, but calm nonetheless.
Boromir shook his head. He reached out and touched the Elf's arm.
For a moment, he thought Legolas would avoid his touch again, and truly the Elf shivered a bit, but this time he did not sidestep him and simply endured it. Yet he quailed under the touch, and frustrated by the lack of welcome, Boromir let his hand fall.
"I do not understand you," he said hotly, "Nor this Ranger of yours!" He shook his head. "I desire you, and I look forward to having you again, though I would like it even more if you would come to me willingly! But I will not pass up the opportunity to have you anyway. You are too good a prize to pass up, and that ranger of yours is a fool to share you! Even though his foolishness will be my gain."
Legolas studied him calmly. "It is not my place to judge my master's decisions," he said mildly, "and whatever his reasoning, you will have me again as soon as opportunity allows. That was my Lord Aragorn's decision. For now, My Lord Boromir, I suggest we postpone this conversation and continue the gathering of wood, since we need march on, soon."
And with that, he gave Boromir a last, respectful bow and turned, leaving the man standing where he stood, confused and seething.
Boromir let him go. But his eyes followed the elf for a long time, and when the Fellowship marched on in the afternoon, they hardly left him.
___________________ o __________________
-- TBC --
1) In this chapter I am diverging from both Book-and Movie-canon concerning the time frame. Bookverse, the Fellowship left Rivendell on December the 25th, reached Eregion (or Hollin) on January the 8th, the Pass of Caradhras three days later on January the 11th and the Walls of Moria at January the 12th. They were traveling for twenty days until they reached the mines. Movieverse, the time frame is the same, only happening two month earlier. But for my purposes, I need the Fellowship a few days longer in Eregion until they try to pass Caradhras. So they are abroad at least 25 days until they reach the mines. Please bear with me!
2) The following dialog – save Aragorn's address of Legolas a little later - is directly lifted from Peter Jackson's movie „The Fellowship of the Rings", Extended Edition, Disc 2. But of course, I added my own interpretation to the scene, here!
3) Here ends the direct quoting of the movie.
4) This sentence is directly lifted from J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, HarperCollinsPublishers, Paperback edition London 1995, page 280.
5) Sam's and Gandalf's sentences here are lifted from the same page, but adapted for my use. The original reads: "'And Bill could take a bit more, couldn't you, lad?' said Sam. The Pony looked at him mournfully. 'Very well,' said Gandalf. 'But we must not use the wood – not unless it is a choice between fire and death.'"
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.