Disclaimer: This stuff belongs to the master, not us, and if you donât know who the master is, march your behind right to the bookstore.

Saphie's LONG Note: Hi diddly, ho diddly, readerinos. Sorry for the holdup of this chapter, yours truly was adjusting to college life. Now that Ive got a routine established, a reliable net connection, and all the problems in my room are fixed, hopefully new chapters will be more easily forthcoming--at least if when there are no finals. Then Cams computer broke, then when she put this up the first time, the formatting was screwy, so it had to be fixed before we sent off the notification emails...

But it was done back in November! Really!

As compensation, this baby was forty-one chapters long in MS Word. So enjoy. And, like, forage for some food before reading. Youre gonna be here for a while.

Sigh. I cant believe, though, that in a few short long obscenely assblisteringly long chapters this storys gonna be done. {sniff}.

Oh yeah, we have a website now, for your convenience: here. Its got links and a bit of background, bios, fanart, etc. Nothing much, but its just a tasty little tidbit for you guys who want to know a bit more of the characters backgrounds and keep asking about who we are and if we write other fanfic, etc. (Psst! Sign the guestbook! And send more fanart! Please?) Also, from now on, well be dating chapters, putting up whatever date it is before we send it off to Cam, giving you a vague idea of when we updated last. And do not fear that were going to never finish thisitll get done, people. Dont worry. It just might take a while is all. Real life is a bitch sometimes, and there are other things we work on creatively that sap our minds and attention spans. Right now Andy and I are trying to get a kickarse fantasy novel on its feet. The sucker has legs, too, it really does.

In a few short chapters, Cam will be linking to what will be Suedom's new home: lotrfanfiction.com. Its a nice little site that needs more stories and has one thing that I really like: a forum for canon-writers to exchange advice, critique,etc. Its like all the good parts of LotR fanfic fandom rolled into one.

Just so you know, we're still calling Gollum a Stoor. We've gotten reviews pointing out that he wasnt one, but Gandalf said in The Shadow of the Past, 'I guess they were of hobbit-kind, akin to the fathers of the fathers of the Stoors'. Modern hobbits (or at least as modern as the ones at the time of the story) are typically characterized by the fact that they have bloodlines that go back to the Harfoots, Fallowhides, and Stoors, and rarely are they just one breed. Were just trying to emphasize the difference in appearance between himself and Merry and Pippin, who most likely have blood of all three hobbit-kinds (even if the Fallowhidish strain is a bit stronger in them). Smeagol on the other hand, is probably a full Stoor, or is at least very close to being one. We know its not entirely accurate, but we think it works best, and we darent make up a term for the River-folk themselves, as it just feels sort of wrong and weve done so many things to make Tolkien spin in his grave already.

Many many thanks go to our lovely betas, Lily Took and Kira Sharp, who took time out of their busy schedules to help us give this chapter an overhaul. And also to Lil Bakht, Kira Sharp (again), and Rachel D for the fanart. Its bitchin.

Also, whoever it was that glomped Andy's friend Vic after hearing that Vic knew Andy--you effing rock. Seriously. Hearing that some random person in Vics school had heard of us just made our frigging day.

In other news, I am getting a tattoo of a blackened-in white tree of Gondor on my shoulder the very next time I have an extra 100 dollars. Yes, I am that much of a dork. That is all.

Andy's not-quite-as-long note: Hurricanes are a bitch. Hi, Nomi!

****

1/15/05

Suedom

By Andy and Saphie

Chapter 27: The Taming of Sméagol Trahald

*****

"We ought to kill him now, before he wakes up."

It was Merry who spoke first as they all stood warily around Gollum's sleeping form, still shocked because of the strange transformation they had just witnessed. The wind was chill against Kates bare skin, and found its way into the gaps of her clothing, making her shiver even more than she already was. There was a high, lonesome whistle in the air as it blew through the chinks and caves in the sharp rocks of Emyn Muil.

There was a long silence, broken by Éowyn's reply of, "I agree."

She looked to Gimli, who nodded, his eyes cold and gleaming with anger, like frozen coal--cold, but capable of bursting into flame with the slightest spark.

Kira's face was unreadable. She stared at the unconscious creature as if he wasnt even there. Or maybe she wasnt there, Kate couldnt be sure. All she knew is that, as creepy as Gollum was, now that he was lying on the ground, out cold and defenseless, it just didnt seem quite right to kill him. To tie him up and dump him somewhere, maybe, but not to kill him.

But she didn't say anything. While Gollum's presence had greatly affected her friend, she felt that this was Middle-earth business, not hers. If Éowyn and Merry and Gimli thought it was the right thing to do, then it was the right thing to do.

Even if it felt really, really wrong.

Éowyn didn't bother asking Kira what she thought they should do, and turned to Pippin. "You have not spoken yet. I invite you to speak now, even if we have already voted on the matter. Do you know of any reason we should not kill this creature?"

Pippin looked back and forth between Éowyn and Gollum nervously. He looked at Merry, whose face was stern and pitiless and started to shake his head.

"I... I cannot think of any reason that Gollum does not deserve death..."

Solemnly, Éowyn nodded and raised her sword.

"...Except for mercy," Pippin finished.

Éowyn lowered her sword and turned to face him, all the others turning and following her lead.

"Pippin," Gimli said, "you do not honestly think we should spare this wretch after all hes done!"

"I do," Pippin said stoutly. "If we do not spare him, it shows we have learned nothing."

"Whatever do you mean?" Merry asked, more than slightly annoyed. "If anything, sparing him would show our ignorance. We cannot let the nasty creature roam loose, and we cannot bring us with us. Look what happened to Frodo and Sam when they did the very same!"

"Yes, look at what happened, Merry," Pippin countered. "Their act of mercy saved them in the end. If they had not spared Gollum, if Bilbo hadnt so long ago, what do you think would have happened to them? To us? To Middle-earth?" He shook his head again. "Frodo was right; Gandalf was right. He had a part to play in the end--"

"--and he, er, still doess," Kira finished softly.

Éowyns eyes narrowed, and she shook her head in exasperation. "Is there some bit of knowledge you have again neglected to share with us?"

"Itss jusst ssomething the Lady Galadriel ssaid to me," Kira answered, ignoring Éowyns glare, or at least wincing only slightly at it. "I, well, I didnt think it meant anything, becausse I never thought it would happen, but she ssaid Gollum, hass ssome part to play in your quesst before the end, though what part that iss remainss unknown. Thatss exactly what sshe ssaid. Jusst without the extraneouss Ss." Kira shook her head. "I didnt really believe her though. I mean, what part could he posssibly have in it?"

"That settles it," Gimli harrumphed, abruptly reversing tack. "If the Lady said such a thing, then I daresay it must be true."

Éowyn walked up to Kira and stared her in the eyes, her mouth set in a firm line. "Do you speak the truth? Did the Lady say that to you, or is this another deception?"

"Itss the truth, I swears," Kira said firmly, guilt still lingering around the edges of her voice, and she stared back unflinchingly. "I swears on my honor."

"That is not enough of an oath, not any longer," Éowyn told her. "You have lost it." Kira winced and her pale cheeks flushed with shame. "Your lie was a great risk to life and limb, yours included."

Kira looked up and asked timidly, "On my life, then?"

Éowyn shook her head. "That is still not enough."

Kira thought for a long time, bewildered as to shy she was doing this, why she was trying to save the wretched creatures life, even if the Lady did say he was important somehow. A long time ago, she would have agreed with all of them, and allowed him to be killed--she might have done the deed herself, in fact.

Maybe it was because she understood him now. Or understood him better at least. And that feeling of understanding was etching away a sickening pit in her stomach, one that was filled with pity and disgust and compassion all roiling around together.

She had to find something important to swear by, then--something precious to her.

"Then I swears on the P--" She caught herself before she finished. Kate was staring at her, but Kira avoided her gaze. No, she thought. She wouldnt stoop that far. She hadnt fallen that far yet, had she? Even though..even though it had come so easily to her tongue...

What was most important? Especially right now?

"I swears--" she began, "I swears on Katess life," Kira blurted out, and Kates eyes widened slightly. "You know I wouldnt joke around about that. You know I wouldnt sswear on ssomething like that sso lightly. Lady Galadriel said what I told youIm not lying this time, Im not."

Éowyn thought about this for a moment and looked back and forth between them, then slowly nodded. "I dare not hold you to such an oath," she said, and Kira had to hold back a scowl. "But it is enough that you said it."

She turned back to Gollum and stared down at him over her nose. "We wait then, until he awakens. Then we shall bind his hands and put a rope around his neck to lead him with."

"But--" Merry began incredulously.

"It is the will of the group, Merry," Gimli told him, and Merry glared at Kira, his cheek twitching.

She didnt notice; she was too busy staring at the unconscious creature on the ground, her face twisted in disgust, and something else, a strange look that seemed to almost be one of fear, but not fear of Gollum--Oh no.

****

There was a flash on the Pelennor Fields, and Architeuthis, in the guise of an orc, appeared. She looked towards Minas Tirith and frowned--she'd meant to be in Rivendell.

She pulled out her CAD and started fiddling with it. The coordinates were right, and yet, the fields around her displayed a distinct lack of Elrond's home. She examined the device a bit more, feeling concerned.

She needed to get out of Gondor. Headquarters hadn't been able to accurately pinpoint the date Middle-earth was reliving, but it had been determined to be somewhere around March 3019, nearly the date of the Battle of Pelennor Fields, and not someplace Architeuthis wanted to be. She attempted to open a portal with her remote activator, but nothing happened. She tried again, but the CAD began to spout nonsense and sparked a bit in her hand. She dropped it in surprise.

"What the...?" The field agent picked up the now-sparkless device and stared at the screen.

"I'm a little fruit bat, see the pretty walnut with the big chocolate toaster! Oh Spider-man, you're so strong. Nighty-noodles!" the CAD said, and short-circuited. Architeuthis stared at it in consternation and put it back into her bag--littering was frowned upon while on missions.

She would have assumed it was broken, but it occurred to her that without a functioning CAD, she wouldn't be getting back to headquarters anytime soon. And neither would any other agent, if their CADs were in similar states. It was possible that she'd just become a victim of whatever was keeping agents in Middle-earth, but as Architeuthis looked across the fields towards the city, she realized that whatever had caused her device to break was going to have to wait. She needed to get to a safe area before people she didn't want to meet started showing up around her. The canons might not be able to see her, but invisibility wouldn't save her if she were stuck in the middle of a battle.

And there was something unsettling about the fields. They were too quiet. They were quiet normally, what with being large uninhabited open spaces, but this quiet was somehow different. The wind whistled forlornly over the fields, and the city was still in the distance. Dark clouds hung in the east, and Architeuthis avoided looking at them. She may have worked with dangerous psychopaths who delighted in killing on a daily basis, but she knew what was in that darkness. There was some evil so complete that even the psychopaths did not care to see it.

A cloud swept across the sky, drawing a shadow over the fields. Architeuthis shivered.

****

It was the same old dream, or at least one of them. Hed started having it when the strangeness started, after those women started appearing and changing everything, leaving him out if the story, away from Master--away from the Precious. They forced him to lurk in the corner, watching, always watching--they never let him closer because they hated him. And most wanted him dead.

Ever since they had come, aside from the feverish nightmares of Elves with bright eyes staring at him from below as he hid in the treetop, and the metal table and the cold pain in his hands--his poor, poor hands--aside from all that...he dreamed of fire. He felt it blacken, bubble, and tear off his skin like fruit peelings, leaving his nerves open and raw, filled with white-hot pain that took his mind away to a realm where the only thing that existed was agony. He felt the blinding flash of heat and light that scalded his eyes, that made them burst open because the insides were boiling, dribbling down his face and evaporating off of his steaming flesh.

That was the nightmare that brought him to waking, where he remembered that it was real, that it had happened, and that it was likely to happen again and again and again.

But then he opened his eyes, and realized that waking was nearly as bad as a nightmare. Their wraith-like eyes were staring down at him in the dark, the grey eyes of the woman with the golden hair, cutting into him like nasty, cruel steel; the Dwarf with the eyes like embers of coal, aching to scald him; and there was also...him.

All fear left him, and for a moment there was nothing but rage. He sat up and jumped at him, his hand outstretched, grasping for his neck, and he shrieked, "Stupid fat hobbit!" before he received an elbow to the throat from the lady and fell back, choking and coughing.

"Mercy, eh, Pip?" he heard the hobbit say. "Are you still standing by it?"

Thats when he realized that it was not the fat hobbit staring down at him, just another with the same sort of distrusting glare on his face, the same prying, piggy eyes. He snorted in disgust and sat shaking on the ground, his hands clutching at his sore neck.

Something was wrong. It was too dark. He should have been able to see, even in this dark--especially in this dark--and all he could see was the starlight, the wretched dirty starlight in their eyes. And his body felt so slow and clumsy.

There was something else...something that was missing. Something was wrong with his head, oh, his poor head! He clutched it with his hands. Something on his head moved through his fingers--hair, lots of it, more than he remembered. He pulled it in front of his face, but couldn't see well enough--what had they done to him?

"Yes," said the other hobbit standing next to the nasty one. This one had had sad, solemn eyes. "Yes, I am, Merry. I am standing by it." The hobbit known as Merry scowled, and for a moment he could have sworn he had seen him somewhere before, though not with such a scowl on his face. The other one was equally familiar, and so was the Dwarf. The horribly lady he knew he had never seen. She would have haunted his nightmares.

But no matter. All that mattered was escape. His eyes darted around frantically as he tried to find a way through this unbreakable wall of captors. Their weapons, all of them had weapons, nasty cruel steel! What was he going to do?

As he looked about, even in the dark, he saw another girl (mainly because her skin was giving off a faint glow). Her hair was as bright as the yellow face; her eyes were even brighter, and squinted his own eyes in pain, tears welling up and streaming down his cheeks. He rubbed at his stinging eyes and pointed at her, crying out, "Make it stop! Shes an Elf! Make the Elf stop looking at me! It burns me! It burns!"

"Do you expect us to obey your every command?" Gimli snorted in indignation. "I dont know if youve realized it yet, but you are our prisoner."

"No, no, let me go," he pleaded, throwing himself at the Dwarfs feet, but the Dwarf kicked him away with his hard, muddy boots.

"Let you go?" the hobbit named Merry put in. "So you can throttle us in our sleep, Sméagol?"

Sméagol's head darted up in horror. The hobbit knew that name. Only three others had ever known the name, and they had all traveled together, the man with the stern eyes of grey who had hurt him, the old man who put the fear or fire in him, andand...

"Baggins."

It came out as almost less than a whisper, but Merry caught it anyway.

"Frodo? Hes my cousin. Our cousin, actually," he said, indicating Pip.

Gollum trembled and he remembered where he had seen the Hobbits and Dwarf before: in the mines and on the river. They had been with him, with Master, and thats how they knew his name. "I--I was his friend," he said desperately, backing frantically up into the scrub-covered rock wall of the gorge. "I was a good guide. I guided him--"

"Right into a spiders lair," Merry cut in. "We heard."

Sméagol shook and whimpered, curling in on himself, as far away from them as he could. "He wouldnt want you to hurt me. He wouldnt..."

Merrys head dropped. "No. He would not, and that is why youre not dead." He lifted his head and stared fiercely down at Sméagol. "Not yet, at any rate. Dont give us a reason to kill you."

"--For we surely will not stay our hands," Éowyn warned him.

There was no escape, and he didnt dare try it. He would wait, until he could slink off into the night, that was safest, yes. He was trapped with these people--these enemies for now, and he decided the safest thing to do would be to tolerate it, as horrible as they were, the Dwarf and the Hobbits and the woman with the cruel eyes, and that horrible, horrible Elf. He hissed miserably at her, at her nasty, bright eyes. To his surprise, she shrunk back slightly, as if she were frightened of him. She looked at the other girl, who shrugged in turn.

The other girl...

He looked at her and everything else in the whole painful world seemed to fall away.

He had loved her. She was one of them, those girls that came and made everything change, and he had loved her and took him away from the Precious, and now that he didnt love her any more, he wanted to tear out her throat. But her eyes--the look in her eyes was one of fear, misery, and of weariness, and although she looked like the girl he had been chasing in his muddled state for who knew how long, she didn't seem entirely like her. The mindless, vapid cheer he'd earlier been forced to idolize wasn't happening. She looked like her, but she wasn't acting like her. It confused him.

And then he remembered that he had kissed her and remembered where he was and all that happened ever since...everything, and he realized what was gone--that voice. The other voice was gone.

He screamed.

"What?" Éowyn asked him. "What ails you?"

"Hes gone! Hes gone!" Sméagol screamed. "What am I to do? Im alone! Im alone!" He screamed for even longer, spittle flicking down his face, and started tearing at his hair, rocking back and forth in miserable horror and despair. How was he going to survive? There was no-one to tell him what to do! No-one! And..! And...

And...he hadnt even realized it until now. Hed been making his own decisions. He could do anything he wanted. He was free.

He was free!

The terrified tears stopped trickling down his face and he started to laugh, just as hysterically.

"Hes mad..." he heard Merry whisper, his face scrunched in silent horror.

He could do anything he wanted now. Anything. And what he wanted now, strangely enough...was some trousers.

It was cold. He hadn't realized it before. He hadn't been vulnerable to elements in ages. Shivering, he asked timidly, "Could I--could I have some clothes?"

Everyone looked at Merry and Pippin and Merrys face went sour. "Well, hes not getting mine." He added, a little less bitterly, "Probably wouldnt fit him anywayIm not tall enough."

Pippin sighed. "Ill get my pack."

*****

The stars were still bright in the sky, but the sun was just starting to spread its light over the horizon when he bent over the stream that rolled forlornly through the mossy rocks and lifted water in his hands. He was unnerved by the sight of pink flesh that had been gray just twenty minutes before. The contours of the arms and the hands and the face were all alien, and the hair felt strange beneath his fingers as he scooped water into his face, rubbing away the blood and letting the sensation of the cold water fill the empty spots in his mind until he opened his eyes again.

And there it was. His reflection.

He stared at himself for a moment, blankly looking at his own expression before he recognized the face in the water as his. But the resemblance to Gollum was still there, if it was looked for, even though the face was round instead of pinched, the eyes shrunken to a more acceptable size, framed by an unkempt mass of curly brown hair. His face was still full of craftiness and guile, strange emotions for such a face. It was a face that had evolved for laughter and good cheer, the kind of face on which looks weren't really a priority as long as it could convey a content and happy air. Of course, unless something very unusual happened very soon, it was unlikely that this particular face would be showing anything but suspicion and fear. He stared at the face for a long while.

He started to crawl out of the river, but his back was beginning to ache from walking hunched over. He stood up and stumbled, catching himself on a rock, his head spinning slightly. It was all wrong--or rather, it was all right, but he had been wrong for so long that it felt the other way around. His center of balance was off. He wasn't used to walking upright, wasn't used to being ungainly and heavy when he'd been agile and emaciated for so long. The wiry strength and agility he'd had for hundreds of years wasn't there, and the suddenness of the change had left him clumsier and slower than he had been the last time he was like this. If he tried to run away, they'd catch him again, he was certain. They would be faster than him. Any other time he could have escaped easily, but not when he was this awkward.

And the name. That was wrong, too. They called him Gollum, and he hated that--or they called him Sméagol, and that was better, but it wasn't quite right. There was another name, or a word, hovering just below his consciousness, and he couldn't say what it was. But it was there, a fleeting thing that faded if he thought about it too much, but he held on to the thought like a lifeline.

He concentrated on it. He concentrated with all his might, on the anger, on the injustice, on his plans for escape from these frightening people, because if he didn't keep his mind occupied with little things, the memories would come back.

They whispered to fill the void that had been occupied by Gollum, troubling visions that waited around his crumbling mental walls to hammer him full-force with the knowledge of what he'd done, all of it, every bad thing that he'd ever convinced himself was all right...

He could forget for a little longer. He could keep himself from remembering, at least until he escaped. Until he could get far, far away from these people. Until he could get someplace where he'd be safe, someplace where he could hide.

There were clothes on the bank and he quickly put them on. He remembered never needing clothes, but wanted them now. It was cold, and he'd been seized by a sudden sense of modesty that he'd abandoned long ago. He hadn't needed modesty when his only visitors were the orcs that he sometimes killed and ate. Sméagol was a little taller than the other hobbits, as Merry and Pippin were the size they were at the start of the Quest. He more heavy-set, with broader shoulders and longer limbs, a bit more like a man than Merry and Pippin, and so the clothes were ill-fitting, but they would do. He did not have many other options.

He glanced out of his sharp eyes at Merry and Pippin, standing with their swords drawn not far away, and at Gimli, sitting on a rock on his other side. He considered trying to escape and took a few quick steps back towards the river, when a throwing axe landed in front of his feet and stopped him short. He looked at Gimli, who waved to him quite cordially and said:

"I shall not miss, next time."

They led him back to the fire, Merry prodding him occasionally with his sword, and there they bound his hands and feet with rope and placed him between themselves and the fire, in everyone's sight.

"How old is he?" Kate wondered in a quiet whisper, staring with a sort of horrified fascination as the Stoor glared at his knotted wrists and at his captors.

"Huh?" Kira asked, also staring.

"He can't be much older than Pippin," Kate said. "I'd say he can't be much older than us, but Hobbits age kind of slow."

"I think he's somewhere in his early thirties," Kira said in her ear. "I read it ssomewhere, probably in the appendicess or on the Internet." She frowned thoughtfully. "Thirty-three. That'ss it. He was thirty-three when he found the--you know."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Thirty-three is their coming-of-age, isn't it? So that would make him around..." Kate's mouth moved silently, and she frowned. Math was not her strong point. "That would make him pretty young," she finished, giving up her calculations. "About a teenager, human-wise."

"Uh huh," Kira nodded. "Puts him around--around our age, actually. Were almost come of age." There was pity and horror on her face. "Kate. He was just a kid..."

At that moment, he noticed them watching, and he gave them such a dirty look that the girls turned away, pretending not to notice him at all.

"This is bad," Kate moaned quietly. "This is very bad. We're going to get in big trouble for this, aren't we?"

"Who sssayss? It'ss not our fault."

"The PPC don't know that."

Kira groaned. She leaned her head against a rock and closed her eyes, her face paler and more haggard than before. Kate patted her shoulder sadly.

"Get some rest," she said. "You only got a few minutes before all of this."

"What if something else happens?" Kira said, quietly, too tired to argue much.

"It'll be okay," Kate said. "Everyone's keeping an eye on...things. You've got to sleep."

"Can't let you do all th' work..."

"Go to sleep, Kira. I will too, if you will."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. I promise," Kate said soothingly, helping Kira to the ground. She pulled her cloak over her friend and brushed her sweaty hair off her face. Kira was fast asleep by the time Kate was putting her folded pack under her head. After a moment, she lay down next to her friend and tried to sleep.

But it wouldn't come easy. Kate was still freaked out beyond all reason, or perhaps it would be better said if it was with reason. After all, they had just been attacked by Gollum. And now they were keeping him. He wasn't quite the same as before, but still. He was Gollum. He was insane and dangerous and had tried to kill Frodo, and he was probably harboring some discontent towards Kira after the weird stuff had happened. That was more than enough to keep Kate worried. She dozed fitfully as the fire died down, while Kira snoozed beside her, dead to the world.

Éowyn relieved Gimli of his watch. Merry took over when the stars were just beginning to fade. He sat down facing their captive, who was sitting hunched over in the last vestiges of the nights darkness, and pulled out his pipe for a smoke. The scent of pipe-weed wafted through the air, and Sméagol straightened up slowly, sniffing the air. He looked at Merry, and at the pipe, and the cloud of smoke that surrounded Merry, and sighed deeply.

"You can sigh all you want, Gollum, but I won't lend you my pipe, not for all the gold in Bag End," Merry said harshly.

Sméagol turned away. Quietly, he said, "That's not my name."

"Don't bother to lie to me," Merry said, shaking his head. "I know all about you. We all do. Your tricks won't work a second time."

Sméagol turned to look at Merry, his hostile expression giving away to one of shiftiness.

Merry smiled grimly. "There's quite a lot about you in the Red Book. I can't say much if it is very flattering. You didn't make a very good impression on Frodo, after all, and he wrote it."

Sméagol looked away, and Merry couldn't see his face. He was silent for a while. Then Merry heard him say, very quietly, "He lived, then?"

"No thanks to you, Gollum."

"Thats not my name."

"Sméagol, then," Merry said. The Stoor was quiet. Then--

"That's not it either."

Merry puffed on his pipe. "Really?"

The Stoor was silent.

"Then do tell me what it is," Merry said, feigning politeness.

But there was no response, and Merry put out his pipe as the sun rose and went to wake the others. Kira was twitching in her sleep, while Kate had finally managed to drift off and was sleeping like a log. The new day seemed no more promising than the last. Mist was in the air, and it seemed as if it were somehow keeping the full light and heat of the sun away. Clouds passed over it every so often, casting their shadows down, floating through the sky on a cold wind that whistled in the rocks, mournful and sullen.

Suddenly, Kira screamed "NO FISSH!" and flailed, whacking Kate on the nose. Kate yelped and sat up, Gimli and Éowyn reached for their weapons, Sméagol shrieked and ducked. Kate clutched her face and groaned as Kira sat up, panting from her nightmare.

"Dude, what happened to your nose?" she asked, after she had looked up at Kate.

"You happened, that's what! You hit me!" Kate said indignantly. "And it hurt, too!"

"Oopss. Sorry," Kira muttered.

"S'okay." Kate sighed. "Ow. How are you feeling?"

"Better, I think," Kira said. "Still tired, though."

Kate nodded. "So am I. Let's get something to eat. That should help."

Kira agreed, and the pair went over to join Éowyn and Gimli, who had their rucksacks. A small amount of bread was doled out, and the group ate their meager breakfast.

The atmosphere was very tense. No one spoke, and occasionally each member of the group glanced at Sméagol, to make sure he was behaving himself. He glowered silently.

It was something of a relief to Kira, no longer being the groups object of distrust, but Éowyn reminded her of her place by turning to stare at her every so often. Every time she did it, Kiras tongue got caught in her throat and she felt shame burning in her cheeks--and anger. It was hard not to shoot a petulant glare back at the shieldmaiden, nasty, nasty yellow-haired woman...

Sméagol kept looking at the girls and it was strange how he did it, always avoiding Kates eyes and always trying to catch Kiras, as if he were looking for something in them.

"Who" he uttered, and winced, expecting a blow. When none came, he continued, "Who are they?" he asked the hobbits, pointing trembling, bound hands at the bewildered and uneasy girls.

"Tell me," he pleaded. "Please."

The canons looked at each-other and then back at him.

"Leave him in the dark, I say," grumbled Gimli. "Hes our prisoner, not our guest."

"I agree," said Merry.

The girls were silent.

"But its not fair..." Pippin began.

"I agree," Éowyn cut in. "Prisoner or not, it will not cause any harm to tell him of our quest and of the state of the world."

There was a long pause as they looked at the pitiable creature, his lank hair falling over frightened eyes.

"Well," Merry sighed. "I suppose it wouldnt hurt to explain things."

"Its I-wish-we-had-pamphlets time," the Elf commented.

"If only ssomeone in Middle Earthd invented the printing presss," the girl with the black hair grumbled. "First of all, I'm not Arinta-whatever, so you can quit resenting me. I'm just some person who got stuck in her body. My name is Kira."

Sméagol stared at her skeptically as she went on explaining, aided by Kate. It took quite some time, as usual, and it was much more difficult with the Stoor, given that he hadnt seen nearly as much of the war as the other canons, nor much of the recent goings-on. Also, he had an annoying habit of screeching in horror every time Sauron was mentioned, but eventually, they got the story out.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Sméagol demanded, after their tale. Merry snorted derisively.

"That's a bit rich, coming from you, Gollum," he said acidly. He received a vindictive glare in response.

"Stop calling me that!" Sméagol insisted. Merry only snorted again and took a large bite out of his piece of bread. Sméagol gulped hungrily and stared at the food, and it suddenly occurred to Kira that theyd been eating for nearly a half hour and no one had offered him any.

She sighed and held her bread out to him. "Here."

Sméagol looked at her hand suspiciously.

"If you want to eat, you'd better take it," Kira sighed. "It's all I've got."

After some thought, he took it gingerly from her hand. He stared at it and nibbled a corner cautiously. After a second, his face lit up, and he gobbled the rest down. To Kira's surprise, he choked back a sob as soon as he'd finished swallowing.

"I'd...I'd forgotten the taste of bread," he murmured, smiling sadly to himself.

Kira raised her eyebrows in surprise, but said nothing. Merry watched Sméagol a moment before he continued to eat.

Kate tapped Kira on the hand, and pressed her share of bread into Kira's.

"I can't--" Kira started to say, but Kate cut her off.

"You need it more than I do," she said. "You need food more than any of us."

"But you'll get hungry," Kira protested.

"I'll be fine," Kate assured her. "I'm used to going a long time without much food." She grinned. "Sometimes I have to sit with my family in restaurants and watch them all eat lasagna and cheesecake and ice cream while I'm already hungry. I've had practice."

"Kate, I can't eat your food," Kira insisted.

"Yes you can," Kate retorted. "It's very simple. Just like eating your food. And if you give it back I won't eat it anyway, so it would just go to waste."

Kira glared at her. "I don't need extra food. Sstop babying me!"

Kate grinned. "You're snapping at me again. That's good. But you gotta keep up your strength, for wherever it is we're going next, though."

"Where are we going next?" Kira asked, more as a way of distracting Kate than actually asking where they were going. It occurred to her that this was actually a good question.

"How about Gondor?" Pippin suggested hopefully. It would be better in the city than out here in the middle of nowhere, where there could be (he shuddered) orcs, or...worse things. "We could look in Minas Tirith."

"A good idea," Éowyn said thoughtfully. "There are plenty of places in Gondor for the Bridge to be."

"But it will take weeks to get to Gondor unless we use Sue powers to shrink the distance, won't it?" Kate pointed out. "I don't know if we can make it in one shot. Kira's getting tireder, and it may be easy for real Mary Sues to get there in one shot, but I don't like it very much. It doesn't feel right. And I don't think it's good for the canon."

Kira glared. "It'ss 'more tired,' and I am not," she muttered.

Kate ignored her. "Besides, the PPC are probably looking for us in the cities, and there are places in between here and Minas Tirith that might have the Bridge. We should check them while we're here."

Kira nodded. "If we're going to check a city, it should be the lasst place we check, becausse...it might be the last place we ever get to check," she finished lamely.

"Where do you suggest we go first?" Éowyn asked.

"Hmm. Kira, you know the maps better than I do. What's between here and Gondor?"

Kira thought. "Er. Dead Marshess? Ithilien, but we've already checked there. I think I saw some placesss in Galadriel's mirror--"

Suddenly an image of a dark tunnel surfaced in Kate's mind, and a skeleton still wearing chain-mail, surrounded by dark shapes that moved like shadows. The fingers of the skeleton were still stuck in the cracks of an unopened door...

Kate shuddered. She didn't want to go there. She'd rather go back to Mordor.

Well, maybe not, but they had to check there anyway.

With a sigh full of dread, Kate suggested, "What about Dunharrow?"

***

"The Paths of the Dead. I hoped never to see that awful place again," Gimli muttered darkly as he trudged along beside the girls through Emyn Muil. "It is my sincerest hope that we do find this Bridge of yours there, because I would hate to have gone for no reason."

"Well, I never hoped to see it at all," Kate said. "And I don't wanna go either, but we have to check everywhere." She cringed. "Even haunted mountain passes."

"Haunted? Haunted is too benign a word for Dunharrow," Gimli ranted. "Without Aragorn, we'll be lucky if they kill us quickly."

"Could you sstop that, Gimli? You're sscaring Kate," Kira said.

"Hey!" Kate objected, even though he was.

"You think the notions you have of Dunharrow are frightening?" Gimli continued. "O, wait until you have experienced the real thing!"

"Thankss, that'ss really helpful of you, Gimli," Kira muttered. "Becausse getting uss to ssoil ourselvess ahead of time will jusst ssave us sso much trouble when we actually get there."

Gimli shrugged. "I am only trying to prepare you."

"I'm prepared to run away," Kate put in darkly.

Luckily the group was not very far into Emyn Muil, but there was no telling how much distance there was between them and the Paths of the Dead. And most of them had never visited Emyn Muil.

So they made Sméagol guide them. He walked in the lead, his hands still bound and a rope tied around his neck. Currently Merry was holding the other end, his other hand resting near his sword hilt. Pippin remained a short distance away from Merry, carefully not following close enough to incite his cousin's anger. Gimli and Éowyn followed, keeping a careful eye on the hobbits.

And Kira...Kira pretty much looked dead on her feet. She followed last, her eyes glazed and her head drooped as she walked. Kate hung back next to her, afraid she would fall or hurt herself, but although Kira continued to look distinctly unhealthy, she at least walked steadily.

At mid-day the party stopped to allow the girls to rest and eat. Kira sat down with her head on her knees. Merry and Pippin exchanged agonized glances that clearly said that although food was a Very Good Thing, they disapproved of the time they were losing by resting, but Gimli and Éowyn said nothing and allowed Kira and Kate their break. Once again, no one offered Sméagol any food, and Kira again handed him hers. He mumbled his thanks and took it.

"Stop giving all your food away," Kate said, pressing half of her food into Kira's hand. "You've gotta keep up your strength."

"I don't feel like eating anyway," Kira muttered.

"You've got to," Kate insisted. "Come on. Eat it. You need it more than I do."

"Sstop it. I don't want yourss."

"I don't give a rats ass what you want," Kate said forcefully, and Kira stared at her in surprise. "You need food. Now eat it."

Shocked into docility, Kira ate a few bites of bread while Kate drank a sip of water and took nothing more.

"We must be off," Éowyn announced after about five minutes had passed. "Speed is of the essence."

"Indeed. Up you get, lad!" Gimli said, poking Sméagol in the back with his axe. Sméagol stumbled off the rock and winced, bending over with his bound wrists close to his stomach.

"Well, which way do we go?" Gimli asked gruffly. Sméagol didn't answer right away, but remained curved around his wrists. Gimli glared at him for a moment, then grabbed his arm and pulled him upright. Sméagol let out a yell of pain and yanked his arm out of Gimli's grasp.

"Stop it! You're hurting me!" he yelled. "The rope, its too tight. It hurts my wrists." Still wincing, he raised his hands to show them his wrists. They were bleeding; blood was seeping into the fibers of the rope.

Gimli stared inscrutably at the Stoor's wrists. Sméagol watched him closely, apparently looking for any signs of sympathy.

"I'm not going to attack you," he said earnestly. "Please, take it off."

"I don't like thisss," Kira muttered quietly to Kate. "They're treating him like ssshit."

"Éowyn and Gimli must know what they're doing," Kate whispered back. "And he's dangerous. They've got to keep him tied up."

"He wouldn't be dangerouss anymore," Kira muttered. "The Author brought him back to how he was before the Ring. Which means he wouldn't have had a chance to go insane."

"I dunno. You can't go through everything he did and come out with your mental capacities fully intact," Kate pointed out.

Gimli glanced at Éowyn, who looked thoughtfully at Sméagol. "Allowing his wounds to fester would be dangerous," she said, "and he may need his hands free later to guide us."

"We cannot set the villain free," Gimli said. "Leave the rope around his neck. The knot is tight. He could not undo it quickly enough to escape."

Merry sighed. "Fine, Gollum, give them here," he said, pulling out his knife. Sméagol winced at the sight of the weapon and reluctantly held his hands out.

"Stop calling me that," he muttered almost instinctively, nervously watching Merry saw at the ropes.

"That's your name, isn't it?" Merry said sharply. "It's what Sam still calls you. He also calls you liar, cheat, murder--"

Suddenly Sméagol yelled, and Merry jumped back, reaching for his sword. But Sméagol's yell dissolved into agonized whimpering, and he dropped to his knees, clutching his hand close to his chest. Blood dribbled from a nick on the side of his hand.

"What is it?" Gimli and Éowyn ran over with their weapons drawn, Kate, Kira, and Pippin close behind them. The girls peered over Gimli's head at Sméagol, who was gibbering wordlessly over the tiny cut.

"Nope, mental capacities definitely not fully intact," Kate whispered.

"I only nicked him. A lot worse than that's been done to him, anyway," Merry said defensively. "Besides, it was an accident."

"We can bandage this easily enough," Éowyn said, bending over and reaching for Sméagol, but he screamed and shoved her away, jumped up, and ran as far as the rope around his neck would let him. Merry gave a disgusted sigh.

"O, come on then!" he yelled. Sméagol was sobbing, and looking at them all with terror that was almost feral. Kate and Kira looked at each other with wide eyes.

"Merry, stop it--" Pippin sighed, approaching his cousin from behind. Merry shot him a look.

"We're losing time over him. And it's just a nick."

"It'ss not jusst a nick to him," Kira said, walking slowly towards Sméagol.

"Kira" Kate called nervously after her.

"Be careful!" Éowyn advised. Sméagol, still whimpering, watched her advance and tried to get away once more, but Merry held the rope tightly and Sméagol settled for making himself as small as possible. Kira knelt beside him.

"Come on, jusst let me ssee it," she coaxed.

"Get away from me!" Sméagol yelled.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Kira assured him. "I jusst want to look at it. I'm gonna ssee if there's anything we can do, all right?"

Sméagol didn't answer, but looked at her distrustfully.

"I promise I won't do anything. I just want to look," Kira said.

"I hate you," he whispered venomously, "All of you, I hate all of you. Stop trying to make me like you, Arin...Arinta...whatever your name is, stop it. Leave me--"

"Lisssten you," Kira hissed angrily. "I'm Kira. Kira. Do you know how sssick I am of people trying to call me Arin-whatever all the time? I'm not her! I'm sssstuck looking like her and ssssounding like her, but I am not her! And you can sssstop thinking that I like being missstaken for her right now. My name is Kira Tonitini, and I am from Jerssey, and I am not this person whosse body I've been stuck in!"

She glared at him, and the fury in her eyes said I know who I am, and everybody else had better know it, too.

Shocked into silence, Sméagol looked away, unable to meet that gaze.

"Let me see your hand," said Kira Tonitini of Jersey, in a softer voice. "I won't hurt you. None of us will, if you just cooperate with us."

He didn't know if he believed her yet, but he unclenched his shaking, bleeding hand and extended it. Kira took it, and he winced and pulled back, but she managed to get a good hold on his hand. He began to whimper again as she looked at the small nick.

"This issn't sso bad," Kira said gently. "Jusst let Gimli or Éowyn take care of it."

He pulled his hand back fearfully, but she wouldn't let go.

"They'll make it feel better," Kira said. "They're not going to hurt you either."

Sméagol shook his head. "No."

Kira sighed. "You gotta have it bandaged." Sméagol looked over her shoulder at Gimli and Éowyn, obviously afraid, and then looked back at her.

"If I let them, will they take the rope off me?" he asked.

"I doubt it," Kira said.

Sméagol looked disappointed, but he only flinched as Gimli moved closer, and let him take his hand, though he trembled like a leaf as the Dwarf worked and remained poised for flight the whole time. He pulled back his hand and moved away as soon as the procedure was complete, and Gimli began to restore his supplies into his pack.

"They never taught that in CPR class," Kira muttered, watching.

"Didn't you become a healer after the war, Éowyn?" Merry asked. "I thought you would be tending his wounds."

"I did, and I would, if I could remember it," Éowyn said. "I knew medicine well enough before, but I cannot remember the things I learned after the war." She looked like she wanted to say more, but did not. Merry waited, but all Éowyn said was, "Gimli remembers the times of peace better than I."

"Indeed," Gimli agreed. "Valinor is not easily forgotten, though I am no healer by any means."

Éowyn ignored Gimli. She was thinking as she traced her fingers along her sword hilt. She glanced at the weapon, crafted along a horse motif, as was most Rohirric weaponry.

She could remember everything Rohirric. But never Gondorian...

She was losing more and more of her life after the war. The memories were slipping through her hands like wind through grass. She could remember everything up to her marriage, and even that was beginning to fade

Authors were defining her as someone who knew only fighting. And she was having more and more trouble remembering that that was not all she was.

Merry glanced at Éowyn. He noted that she was troubled, and debated speaking to her. He opened his mouth, but snapped it shut and turned away before she noticed.

Sometimes people didn't want to talk about their problems. Merry had come to understand this.

He understood it too well.

Sméagol flexed his hand as much as his bandages would allow and looked at Kira. "Thank you," he said. He was much calmer now, the wild, terrified look gone from his eyes.

"No prob," Kira said.

Sméagol looked at his hand, and at Kira, out of the corner of his eye. She saw him looking, and smiled a little bit, and he looked away quickly as the seven continued through Emyn Muil. Kira fell back to walk with Kate, and Sméagol lapsed back into silence as they went, occasionally glancing at his bandaged hands.

He thought that maybe, now that he'd spoken with her, that he could believe Kate and Kira's story about appearing as people from stories and not as who they really were. Quiet, morose Kira, at any rate, acted nothing like Arintalerthirialimsilira, who was cheery and widely beloved and sang too much. He watched them, looking for anything that might help him escape, and he saw that none of the rest of the group liked Kira very much--apart from the Elf, who was loathe to be more than a yard from her friend. There was obvious affection between the pair. They reminded him a bit of Master and...

But he wasn't ready to think about Frodo and Sam yet, not without the burning rage and hatred that the thought of the pair inspired in him. He would think of them later, perhaps, when he had wrung Master's traitorous neck and made the nasty suspicious Hobbit crawl like a dog before him, for a change...

Truth be told, he envied Kira, just a bit. He envied the certainty she had when she announced her identity. She knew her name, all of it. Names were important. Names could be changed, and there could be many names for one person, but if you did not have a name, you were lost. You did not know who you were. And it was easy to become something else that you might otherwise not wanted to have become if you didn't know who you were--

He could almost hear it, now. Sometimes it seemed that some part of his mind would be saying it, but as soon as he noticed, it was gone. If he thought about it too much, it faded like a shadow.

He had to remember his name, and he had to tell someone. So that he could be told, if he forgot again. If he lost himself again.

Ahead of them, Merry, still holding the rope, was grumbling quietly. They shouldn't baby him over a little cut like that. Sméagol had over-reacted. There was no reason to get so worked up over a little wound. His quiet muttering carried to Kate's Elven-ears, and she bit her lip thoughtfully.

"Why did he react that strongly to just a little nick?" she wondered.

Kira thought. "Well, you know how Gollum was alwayss wringing his hands and licking his fingertipss in the bookss? I bet that when Sauron was torturing him for information, he did something really painful to his handss."

"That would explain why he got so upset." Kate said quietly, looking back at him, then back to Kira, and nodding. "But he's definitely messed up in the head."

"We'd be messsed up too, if we'd murdered our besst friendss over some jewelry, spent five hundred years alone in a cave underground talking to ourselvess, and then been tortured for information by a dark lord and eventually burned to death," Kira said. "Hiss life was one long nightmare. He'ss got mental scars all over the place. No author can jusst make that go away."

Kate stared. "You feel sorry for him, don't you?"

"Well," she shrugged, "I do, I guess," Kira said. Because I'm afraid that the same thing might happen to me, she added silently.

"But we still can't trust him," Kate said. Kira sighed, and nodded.

"I know. He'ss a victim, but he'ss done a lot of dangerouss thingss before. He could do it again. We don't know too much about what Sméagol wass like before the Ring. But we should explain it to Gimli and Éowyn. And Merry and Pippin."

She shook her head and looked back at Merry, who was holding the rope too taut for comfort, so that Sméagol had to hurry lest it make it hard for him to breathe. When she looked back at Kate, her eyes were full of concern. "If they keep hurting him, he might turn out to be dangerouss after all."

***

It was a two-day trip to Dunharrow. Neither Kate nor Kira believed the trip would have taken this little time normally, but no one complained about the time.

They just complained about going there at all.

The Dwimorberg loomed threateningly as they wandered down the pass, throwing dark shadows over the group. It was deathly quiet in the added gloom of the black trees, and the group followed the path until they came to a single stone standing in a hollow. There they stopped, and the doubt that had been insinuating itself in their minds since they first saw the Dwimorberg increased.

"I don't think I want to go in there anymore," Kate said, her small voice breaking the uncomfortable silence of the pass. The stone itself was threatening, and she did not want to know what was beyond it.

"It's just a rock," Kira replied resolutely. "Just a big, stupid rock."

"Ha," Gimli grunted. "Say what you will, but I know for a fact that you are just as afraid as the rest of us. That stone is all that stands between us and the Dark Door."

Slowly, the group shuffled around the rock, and stopped again.

A dark door stood before them. Strange runes were carved around its borders, and soft whispers, on the edge of hearing, issued faintly from it. Fear poured from it and engulfed them like a blanket. The dread they felt as they gazed through the doorway was so strong, it was almost tangible.

"We should not go in without Aragorn," Gimli said, after a moment's silence. "No living man save Isildur's heir may use such a road as the Paths of the Dead and not perish."

"We're not men, though," Kira pointed out. "We're women, hobbitses, and a Dwarf."

"You know, I'm not so sure about this, either, Kira" Kate said, a slight quaver in her voice. "In the vision, there was this skeleton, y'know, and something--something bad, and I felt really scared and I wanted out."

"We've gotta check everywhere," Kira said, with just a tinge of uncertainty in her voice.

"It is best that we do not trouble them. The Dead are bound to no oath that you are part of. They will see no reason to let us pass alive," Gimli insisted.

"Then we'll have to be very persuassive," Kira said firmly.

"Have you forgotten that these are the ghosts of men who worshipped Sauron?" Gimli snapped. "Or do you not know? They swore allegiance to Gondor, and it took a curse to hold them to their oath. There is no one here who can persuade them to let us search the paths untouched." Gimli turned to Éowyn. "And what of you? I seem to recall you were most distraught when Aragorn first announced he would take the Paths of the Dead. Has your fear left you so easily?"

"If I knew we did not have to search everywhere, I would suggest any place other than this," Éowyn said, looking evenly at the door, her eyes hard and set. "I do not wish to enter, but I do not fear death. I am already dead."

And with a deep breath, she disappeared through the door and into the shadows.

Gimli sighed. "I will go, but it is a fool's mission. We are sure to face death ere we leave this accursed place, if we ever do." He grunted again and took hold of his axe. "But by Mahal's beard, I have seen an elf go before me into this cave, and I will not suffer to see two little girls do the same!" And he followed Éowyn through the door. Kira padded after him, and Kate followed, her dread of the Paths overcome by her fear of being separated from her best friend.

"If those two can go in there then so can you," Merry said, yanking on Sméagol's rope as he walked through the door. Sméagol, who up until then had been looking with terror at the doorway, looked at the rope and then down the path, as if contemplating escape, but Pippin was behind him, and had his hand near his sword hilt.

"Go on, it's not that bad," Pippin said, but his face was pale and his hands were shaking. "Go on!"

Sméagol grimaced and began to wring his hands nervously. From inside, Merry gave the rope an impatient tug, and Sméagol stumbled through the door with a short yelp. Pippin, with a last look back down the path, was the last to disappear into the darkness.

For a while they walked in silence, enveloped by the darkness, following the sounds of each other's footsteps, or in Kate's case, by hanging onto Kira's chain mail. The light of the torch seemed smothered by the atmosphere of the Paths, the flame burning low and dim. On the party walked, until they came to a wide room, where their eyes seemed inexplicably to adjust very quickly to the darkness.

"It is lightening?" Gimli said, sounding confused. "I do not remember this. When I traveled the Paths of the Dead, all was dark until the very end"

"I don't think this is the end," Kate said, looking around the room. "But seeing is a good--"

She stopped suddenly, as her eyes fell on a skeleton, lying against the wall. A broken, worn sword lay at its side, and its white fingers were frozen in the act of clawing at the outline of a door. It's jaw was gaping, as it empty eyes stared forever into the horrible darkness that had killed it.

"Oh my God," she whispered, backing away quickly. "Oh my God. We're here. Oh my God."

"You need not worry," Gimli said grimly. "He cannot hurt you. Not anymore."

"Not the skeleton," Kate said, although honestly that was pretty bad too. "It's not him. This is where they are"

The others gave her confused looks, but Kira was still staring at the skeleton. Or, more accurately, what the skeleton had been doing when he had died.

"It'ss a door!" she said, approaching it. "I bet the Bridge is in there. Serioussly, who would come looking for it in the Pathss?"

"It had better be there," Gimli grumbled. "I will be most displeased if this excursion was all for naught."

"I wanna go now," Kate whined. "Something bad is gonna happen here, guys, I saw--"

Something whispered in Kate's ear, and she whipped her head around with a gasp.

There was nothing there.

"It's gotta be here! What else would there be behind the door?" Kira said, looking for a handle. When she found none, she leaned her good shoulder against the door and began pushing. "Come on guys, help me out!"

"Kate?" Éowyn said, glancing at the younger girl. Kate was beginning to sweat.

"Open!" Kira shouted, pounding on the door with her sword hilt. "You! Sstupid! Thing!"

"Kate?" Éowyn said, as Kate's breathing increased to a frantic rhythm.

"They're coming--they're here" she said, nearly hyperventilating.

The whispers increased in volume, and the rest of the group began to look around for the source of the noise. Kate ran over to Kira, the only one who hadn't yet taken notice of the eerie voices echoing in the room. She grabbed Kira's good arm, but Kira shook her hand off and began hitting the door with her fist.

"Dammit!" she yelled. "I want to go home! Open up!"

"Kira," Kate said, looking back at the walls.

Again she heard something whispering, this time behind her, and more voices began to echo in the dark, a ghostly chorus of aural shadows. Shapes, gray and formless, began to seep through the walls, surrounding the group, hemming them in like dogs herding sheep, the wordless whispering growing slowly louder.

"Kira!" Kate said shrilly. "Kira, let's get out of here!"

"NO! Not until we--"

Kate grabbed Kira's good shoulder and spun her around to face the shapes of the Dead. Kira stared at them.

"Whuh-oh," she said.

Words were becoming discernable through the whispers.

"The dead ones! The dead ones are here, the ones who answered to Him!" Sméagol yelled hysterically, cowering in a corner. "The dead ones have come for us!"

One of the figures approached the group, backing them into the corner. It was more clearly manlike than the others andseemed to have a slight green tinge to it.

"You are bound to an oath, are you not?" Éowyn shouted. "We are trying to end this; to end all oaths, to end all things that we are bound to, so that we may rest again. You must let us pass! You must let us pass or neither you nor we shall find peace!"

The shades started closing in again, and desperately Merry shouted, "Do you want to stay here for all eternity?"

"Well then open it already, you dinkss!" Kira shouted at them. They seemed taken aback for a moment and Kate noticed a few ghostly heads turning and looking at each-other in confusion. The spirits turned back and kept pressing in, and then Kate blurted out, "Then let us go back! If we can't go through, then let us go back!"

The spirits stopped.

"We have to!" Kate cried. "Or the King will never come and declare your oaths fulfilled. He will never free you! We have to leave and find the force that is making this world wrong! So, please, if we can't go forward, let us go back then!"

The lead shadow pressed forward.

"Yes," Kate said. "And we're trying to put a stop to it."

The spirit seemed to consider this.

"If you kill uss, you'll be here forever," Kira said. "You'll always be drawn back until the King comes to free you again. If you let us go, we might be able to stop all that..."

For a moment the shades around them whispered, deliberating upon the idea. Let them go? Unheard of. None passed through the Paths unless accompanied by Isildur's Heir.

"If we were lying, you wouldn't be here again right now, would you," Kate said timidly.

The shadow stood where it was for a moment, as the spirits continued to whisper. The group waited anxiously as the lead shadow shimmered before them...

Then he melted back into the mass of gray and soon the shapes were drawing back and disappearing.

"I wish they would stop saying that," a shaking Gimli muttered. "It is getting very repetitive."

"Oh no, absolutely not, never, not at all!" they all said at once. The shadow appeared to nod.

They knew, so they left as they had come.

***

"Light! Yay!" Kate ran out of the door to the Paths, stopped, and took a deep, satisfied breath. "Fresh air! Yay!"

"Still quessting. Yay," Kira said in a monotone. Kate rolled her eyes.

"Oh yes, what a pity we escaped with our lives intact. Whose bright idea was it to go here anyway?" she said.

"It was yours," Éowyn reminded her, following Kira out of the door. Gimli followed, looking surlier than usual, the hobbits following him.

"What did I say?" Gimli asked the group, sitting down and trying to keep his hands from shaking. "No-one listens to the Dwarf, do they."

"That was entirely pointless!" Merry growled.

"What?" Kate asked.

"Have you forgotten already? We never found the Bridge!" he ranted. "And we never did go through that door. For all we know, the Bridge is in there, and we let those accursed ghosts chase us out before we had a chance to ask!"

"The short guy'ss right! Now it'ss back to ssquare one," Kira muttered grumpily. She was certain the Bridge was behind that door. Now there was no way to know, unless she went back.

"Well I'm not going back in there," Kate said. "The dead men were angry enough as it is. We shouldn't irritate them any more."

"It'ss either irritate the dead men or let Middle-earth be desstroyed," Kira said. "Wanna take your pick?" she started towards the door purposefully.

"Kira. Kira, wait, if you're going in, I--" Kate said, following her.

Suddenly a blast of cold, reeking wind issued from the door, blowing the girls off their feet and away from the Paths. A whisper of the way is shut... drifted out. Kate sat up.

"Okay, now I'm definitely not going back in there," she said firmly. "And neither are you."

Kira glared at the door and muttered something that sounded a lot like, "Sstubborn zombie basstards..." under her breath.

It just loomed there, a gaping maw of possibility, taunting her as he vision was sucked into it. She knew there had to be something important behind it. She just knew. That certainty ached within her, taunting her with thoughts of life, an end to the Quest, and above all: home.

She looked over and caught Pippin's glance. He was enraptured by it as well.

Gimli said, "I suggest we select a new place to search."

"Fine, fine," Kira muttered. "We'll go ssomewhere elsse and dessperately hope we jusst haven't been royally sscrewed. In the ear."

"We haven't checked the Dead Marshes," Kate volunteered.

Kira shrugged. "And I ssupposse we do have someone who could tell us where to look," Kira said. She looked at Sméagol, and the rest of the group followed her line of vision. Sméagol stared back at them nervously, looking like a deer in headlights.

"So? Speak," Gimli commanded. "Have you seen anything in the Marshes?"

Sméagol didn't answer, and started rubbing his bandages nervously.

"Well, Gollum?" Merry said harshly.

Kira sighed. "Ssméagol, have you sseen anything sstrange in the Dead Marsshes? Bessides the ordinary dead people, I mean," she said, her tone much gentler than Gimli and Merry's.

Sméagol paused for a moment before saying, "Yes. Yes, there is a place in the Dead Marshes, where many paths converge...but you do not want to go there, O no. There, in the darkest dark and the deepest mist, it is easier for you to fall into place with the dead ones. They are almost still alive"

His voice fell into silence and the canons all exchanged worried glances. Pippin was barely paying attention; his gaze was still occupied with the great empty door in the mountain.

Kate raised her eyebrows and glanced at Kira. "So, there next then?"

Kira shrugged. "Eh, fine with me."

***

"D'you know, we've been in Middle-earth, what, about two weeks now?" Kate wondered as the group squelched along through the Dead Marshes.

"Probably more, maybe about three or sso," Kira said, yanking her foot out of the muck with a "schlup" kind of noise. The very ground was flatulating with every step. "S'hard to tell though."

"Right. And in thosse three weekss, we haven't bathed once."

The canons glanced at each other, and edged away from the girls.

"Hey yeah, we haven't needed to. Musst be a Mary Ssue thing," Kira commented. "You ssound proud," she added amusedly.

"Yup. It's a new record for me. Usually I would be really uncomfortable by now."

She took another step, and sunk through the muck up to her knee.

"Hey, watch where you're going, or you'll end up getting a bath without trying," Kira said, longstepping over to pull her out. "And you wouldn't want that, would you." Kate grimaced at the mud and filth now covering her pants and boots and grimaced.

"Not here, not likely," she said. "That water's dirtier than I am."

"Careful!" Sméagol snapped at them, from up ahead. "It's not safe to go near the water. The ground is tricky, and the dead ones are watching. Stay away from the edges and follow me."

Fog hung over the marsh as they slogged through it, dampening their clothes and beading attractively in Kate and Kira's hair. Small lights flared eerily off the path, darting and flashing, beckoning them away, and the group did their best to ignore them. It was dark now, and Sméagol still led them, still tied. He was the only one successfully ignoring the lights, walking steadily through the mud, occasionally muttering to the group, and himself.

"The dead ones are always watching. They wait for you to come too close, and then you'll light little candles of your own," he went on. "The dead ones are always watching"

"Oi!" said Pippin suddenly, from behind Gimli and Éowyn. "I think a see a bridge under here!"

They turned around to see Pippin leaning over the edge, looking curiously into the water.

"Pippin!" Merry said sharply, reaching out to pull him away from the edge. "Haven't you been listening?"

"There's something down there, it really looks like some sort of Bridge!" he said, leaning further over the water and squinting.

"No no!" Sméagol cried. "Get away! The dead ones were fighting a war--there are weapons, great weapons of metal and wood and stone that they used--"

"Siege weapons?" Èowyn interjected.

"Yes. There are many below the water, rusting away. It is this and nothing more. Get away from the edge!" he shot at Pippin.

"Come to think of it, I doubt a Bridge would have arrow-slits," Pippin said. He looked up. "But are you sure--"

Suddenly an arm, waterlogged and rotten, shot out of the water and grabbed Pippin around the throat. Merry screamed and grabbed at his cousin as the arm pulled him into the water, and fell in the muck. He lost his grip on Pippin's sleeve, and Pippin disappeared under the water with a watery yelp.

"Oh shit!" Kate shouted as she and Kira ran over as fast as they could. Merry was still lying on the bank, reaching into the water and splashing it everywhere as he tried to reach his cousin. He was screaming Pippin's name.

Kate looked past Merry and into the water. She could still see Pippin, sinking through the mire as the dead dragged him down into the deep water. Its face was rotting off and its eyes were dangling out of its sockets from grisly strings of rotten flesh, but despite that, its twisted face was grinning. She could tell from the armor: it had been an Elf once.

Pippin was twisting desperately in its skeletal, arms, ragged flesh being torn off them by his efforts, his face twisted into a green-tinted expression so horrified that Kate could only imagine seeing one like it if she had a mirror. His mouth was open in a wordless yell--no bubbles of air were even coming out. He had never had the chance to take a breath before he was pulled under.

"Give me the rope," she shouted, pulling off her cloak and dropping her pack on the wet ground. She was afraid of a lot of things, but water wasn't one of them.

Zombies were, of course, but that had to be borne.

"You can't be thinking of going in after him?" Éowyn asked.

"I sure am!" Kate said. "Who's got the rope?"

"You can't do that!" Kira yelled, grabbing Kate's arm. "I know you ssaved me in the lake, but there are dead people in there! You're not a lifeguard!"

"And you're wearing chain mail," Éowyn pointed out. "If you go after him, you will sink."

"Well we can't just let him drown!" Merry yelled hysterically, preparing to dive in after Pippin. Éowyn grabbed him and pulled him back before he jumped.

"You can't go without a rope!"

"I can swim, Eowyn!" he cried.

"But they will pull you down, as well!" she cried. "Where is--"

Suddenly there was a splash beside them and the group turned to see that Sméagol was gone. A coil of rope floated on top of the grimy water, slowly being pulled under.

"He's getting away!" Gimli shouted. "Grab the rope!"

"It'ss tied around his neck, you'll hurt him!" Kira protested.

"It would be no great tragedy--" Gimli started to say, but Merry interrupted.

"He's not swimming away, he's swimming down. He's got Pip!"

With a gasp Sméagol surfaced, clawing clumsily at the mud on the bank, and Kira grabbed his hand with her good arm and pulled. Awkwardly, the Stoor emerged from the water, dragging Pippin's limp body as far away from the water as possible, which was difficult already because he was dragging his own heavier, clumsier body along as well.

For a moment, the dead arms reached out of the water into the air, grasping, and the lights flared up all around them, twisting and twirling daintily about as if there were a calm whirlwind. Then the arms slid down until only the rotten hands were visible, and then the twisting fingers, and then they were gone.

Sméagol dropped the hobbit in the muck, gasping and clawing at the rope around his neck that was keeping him from getting a much needed breath of air. Merry shoved him aside in his rush to get to his cousin.

Pippin lay limply in the mud. He did not move.

"No," Merry moaned, running to his cousin's side. "O no."

Kate looked at the drowned hobbit, blue in the lips, mud clumped on his face. "Kira, you know CPR, right?" she asked.

Gimli knelt next to her. "He isn't breathing," he announced grimly. He began feeling for a heartbeat.

"No!" Merry cried.

"Yeah," Kira said. She was still sitting, looking pale. "But I don't think I can do it right now. It takess upper body strength and" She rubbed her shoulder and looked from despondently from Pippin to Kate. "Pleasse tell me you know it?"

Kate shook her head, looking panicked. "Tell me how, I've got an idea of how it works," she said.

"O, the poor little fellow," Gimli mourned, taking his helmet off and holding it in his hands, sniffling. He dabbed at his eyes with his beard. There was nothing he could do this time, no battlefield to search, no troll to lift.

Éowyn was bowing her head, surreptitiously casting a dirty look at the girls. Had they no respect for the dead? "It is just as well," she said to Merry, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was shaking. "He is at peace, now."

"You know as well as I do that when we die in these stories we come back again. We always do!" Merry cried. "He'll come back, but not here; he'll come back in some story with the orcs, or in Orthanc, or, or--" He dissolved into noisy sobs and knelt over his cousin, resting his head on Pippin's motionless chest.

"'Scuse me," Kate said, pushing Merry out of the way and bending over Pippin. She placed her fist on Pippin's chest with one hand covering it and looked at Kira. "Like this?"

"No, the resscue breathing is done first. And get hiss sshirt off."

They both struggled with his sodden cloak and shirt, trying to get it out of Kate's way.

"What are you doing?" Merry asked furiously.

"Tilt hiss head back. Check for breathing by putting your cheek next to his mouth, then for a pulse in the carotid artery in the throat." Kira guided Kate's hand. "There."

"Nothing," Kate said.

"Okay, ssweep his mouth with your finger for foreign objectss."

"Nothing."

"What are you doing?" Merry screamed at them. They didn't answer. There was no time for them to.

"Give two resscue breathss, like how they do it on Baywatch. Tilt his head back, hold hiss nosse, and form a tight sseal with your mouth. Give one breath, take a breath, then give another breath. Then check for breathing and pulsse again."

Kate winced in a sort of awkward disgust (not that he wasn't cute, but he was dead and a near-stranger) and put her mouth over his own.

Merry's eyes widened in rage and his jaw dropped. He launched himself at Kate, but Kira managed to elbow him in the gut with her good arm, making him fall to the ground, winded.

"What is the meaning of this?" cried Gimli, outraged.

"Have you no respect for the dead?" Éowyn shrilled, completely disgusted with them, as she and Gimli rushed towards Kate, who waved them away wildly.

"Get off him, get away from him!" Merry wheezed, clutching his stomach. "You filthy--!"

"Sshut up! We're trying to help him!" Kira cried.

"Still no pulse, Kira!"

"Now do the chesst compresssions. Make a fisst like this," she demonstrated with her own hands, "and put it on his chest at the breasst-bone, in between the nippless. Right over where the heart iss. Then do the compressionss with an even rhythm, fifteen of them, then two more breaths, for five cycless."

She did it. And kept doing it. The canons were silent the entire time, watching, until it dawned on Éowyn, "She is breathing for him, and making his heart beat."

"But why?" Merry moaned. "He's dead! She can't do it forever!"

It seemed like she did, time after time after time, breathing until she was out of breath, pumping his chest until her arms felt as though they'd fall off. Kira's voice kept droning on, telling her to pump, breathe, check pulse, pump, breathe, check pulse.

And then the lights glittered and swirled about them in the wind and one of them flickered into life right in front of Merry's face.

"Is that you, Pippin?" he asked with a broken voice, tears streaming down his grimy cheeks leaving trails of grey mourning behind.

He held out his hands and the little will o' the wisp danced gently right above his palms. "I hope you go on to rest for good now." His voice cracked and he wept openly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Pip."

Kate kept breathing. Kira kept droning.

And the light flickered out and Merry cried out almost as if he had been stabbed in the heart. Éowyn and Gimli both held a hand on his shoulders.

Pippin's eyes opened, and he began to cough and retch and cry out all at once. He turned to his side and vomited up a great deal of marsh water and gasped deeply before collapsing again in the muck on his back, breathing deeply and coughing.

"Recovery possition! Recovery possition!" Kira cried. "Turn him on his sside!"

Merry was frozen for a moment, and then in the next, he was over next to him, hugging him, crying with relief.

"What--what happened?" Pippin gasped groggily, in between pants. "I rememberwater. That thing--grabbed me. Merry, why are you crying? Did someone get hurt? I'm alright."

Merry could only weep and squeeze his cousin until he nearly stopped breathing again, but after a while he tensed and Pippin tensed as well, and the two separated awkwardly. Being uncomfortable with each other was not something they were accustomed to.

"Come here, you!" Gimli growled joyously, nearly lifting the hobbit off the ground in a huge bear hug. "Alive and well, and I didn't have to lift a troll this time! I daresay this is a good outcome for such a frightening day!"

He let the hobbit down to his feet. Pippin shivered and looked down at his bare chest. "Where did my shirt go? Did the ghost take it?"

"The girls took it off. They performed some sort of healing that revived you," Éowyn told him, her eyes sparkling with awe. "It was miraculous."

"Nope. Even my little sisster knowss how to do it," Kira answered humbly.

"Who pulled me out?" Pippin asked, as Éowyn draped her cloak over him. He turned to his cousin. "Merry...you saved me?" Pippin asked, glancing at Merry's sodden tunic and sleeves.

Merry did not answer and fidgeted for a moment before speaking.

"No."

"Then who--" Pippin looked at the rest of his companions, at their dry (albeit muddy) garments, as everyone looked almost at once at Sméagol, who had been sitting huddled over behind them the whole time, shivering madly and dripping wet. Pippin stared at him in shock.

Sméagol looked back and glared, his lank, sodden hair hanging in his eyes.

"If you fall in again," he gasped, panting for air and clutching at the sodden rope around his throat. "I shan't go after you. I told you-- stay away from the edge!"

***

There had been nothing there, of course, when they reached the strange place where the paths converged. There was a gnarled willow tree that Kira spent a good fifteen minutes knocking on to find hollow places, and it certainly was eerie and was filled to the very brim with foreboding, but still there had been nothing. It had been fortunate, however, that it was flat, near to where Pippin had drowned, and relatively dry, because it was getting late and Pippin and Sméagol had started sneezing.

Pippin stood by the crackling, smoking, foul-smelling fire, made by Gimli with his trusty tinderbox and the few relatively dry pieces of wood they could find, drying out his shirt and cloak. Sméagol was on the other side, resting, wrapped in Kira's cloak.

(Behind him, Kate was attempting to force Kira to wear her cloak, seeing as how she'd given hers up. The argument had dissolved into a lot of repeated "yes's" and "no's" by now, and wasn't worth listening to.)

Pippin shook his cloak and draped it over his arm. He walked slowly to the other side of the fire and coughed slightly to get Sméagol's attention. Sméagol looked at him.

"I wanted to thank you," Pippin said, "for saving my life."

Sméagol looked back at the fire for a long time, before grunting, "You're welcome."

"Ah." Pippin paused, turned as if to walk away, and turned back. "I'm sorry Merry's been cruel to you."

Sméagol looked at him. "You are?"

"Yes." Pippin said. He paused awkwardly. "Merry's been through hard times lately. He never acted this way before, but..."

Sméagol sneered and turned back to the fire. "Hard times." He snorted. "He doesn't know what hard times are," he said darkly.

"You'd be surprised." Pippin said, a little sharply. "You're not the only one who's been tortured, you know. You're not the only one who's suffered."

"Neither is Merry, and it's no fault of mine if he has."

Pippin shifted his weight a bit, and finding he had no more to say, turned back to the fire and continued drying his cloak.

(In case you're wondering, Kira had finally relented and taken the cloak, although she was looking very grumpy about the whole affair. Kate, on the other hand, was shivering and looked rather pleased with herself.)

Éowyn, Gimli, and Merry had been talking amongst themselves. When they stopped, Merry was looking slightly sullen. Éowyn stood up and crossed to Sméagol, who shrank away nervously. She knelt in front of him, looking him straight in the eye.

"We have come to a decision," she said. "Your actions today were honorable, and as a result, we will allow you to walk unbound from now on; but," she said, "you must agree to guide us where we wish to go. If you agree, you may walk freely as one of us. If you do not, you will remain in bondage until such time as we release you. If you break the agreement and try to escape, or if you harm any one of us, we will kill you. Do you understand me?"

She would not let him look away, and her gray gaze would not break. Sméagol nodded fervently.

"Say it," Éowyn ordered. "Swear that you will remain with us, and guide us where we wish."

"I swear," Sméagol whispered.

And Éowyn removed the rope from his neck, as he looked on with eyes wide with wonder.

Perhaps the situation might have turned out quite differently if our inept heroines or the canons had seen the second Lord of the Rings movies, because then they would have know that saving someone from drowning meant nothing if it were Sméagol. As it stood, he was free to walk among them, for good or ill.

Which did not please Merry.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Merry said flatly to Pippin as Éowyn returned, leaving Sméagol massaging his neck expressionlessly. "I still don't think he's trustworthy."

"He did save my life, Merry," Pippin pointed out, and he coughed a bit. "That has to count for something."

"He's a manipulative, lying scoundrel," Merry said, with bitterness. "He knew that would win favor with us. He'll murder us all in our sleep. You've heard Sam's tales, Pip. I don't know why they," he nodded his head towards Kate and Kira, "go so easy on him. They know he's a filthy rotten sneak." He wouldn't look up at Pippin as he said this. He only stared at the ground and fingered his damp sleeves.

"Maybe they know something we don't," Pippin said. "They know a lot from that book they say is about us, the one that was written from the Red Book." Pippin paused and gave his cousin a meaningful look. "And if it came from the Red Book, it came from Frodo."

This gave Merry pause, but he shook his head and continued. "I still don't think this is a good idea," he muttered. "That Ring's still out there, and I don't think it gives up on its owners so easily. Or that the owners give up on it."

"That is why we must keep a sharp eye on him," Éowyn said.

"And rest, in the meantime," Gimli said. "Someone should take watch now. Master Merry looks close to nodding off."

Merry, as awake as ever, looked indignantly at Gimli, who was suppressing yawns.

"I will go first," Pippin offered.

"Are you sure you feel well enough?" Éowyn asked.

"I am fine now that I am warmer now, and my clothes have finally dried," he said, putting on his shirt.

"Good lad," Gimli said. "You know what to do, if anything should happen."

Éowyn and Gimli lay back to sleep, and Merry put his hand on Pippin's shoulder.

"Keep your eyes on him," he said, nodding to the place where Sméagol had fallen asleep, wrapped in Kira's cloak. His eyes darted to Kira. "Both of them." Pippin nodded, and Merry let go and settled onto the ground. Pippin sat down and tried not to look at the flickering lights.

A ways away, Kira lay quietly looking at the cloudy sky. Kate was curled up on her side next to her, breathing quietly. Kira rolled over and looked at her.

"Kate?"

"Mmm?"

Kira leaned on her elbow and looked thoughtfully past Kate. "Do you remember what Gandalf

ssaid to Frodo, at the beginning of Fellowship of the Ring?"

"Which part?"

"About Gollum and the Ring."

Pippin could hear them speaking quietly, and tried not to listen in on their conversation. But it was hard not to hear, when they were the only real sound in the quiet marshes.

"Bits and pieces," Kate admitted, still curled up on her side with her head resting on her hands. "Why?"

"I'm jusst thinking about it," Kira said, and she and Kate glanced briefly at Sméagol's sleeping form.

"Gandalf didn't paint a very nice picture of Sméagol and Déagol," Kate said, almost as if she were trying to remind Kira.

"It's hard to be ssympathetic when you're desscribing two people trying to murder each other over jewelry," Kira said. "But he ssaid 'even Gollum wasn't wholly ruined,' remember?"

Pippin abandoned all pretenses of not listening. He'd heard enough from Sam about that fateful night when Gandalf told Frodo that he had the One Ring in his possession, but he hadn't heard this part of the story before.

"Yes," Kate said reluctantly. "But, didn't Gandalf say some other stuff, like how after Gollum left the mountains to search for the Ring, there were... 'rumors of a ghost that drank blood,' in Mirkwood, right?"

"And 'crept into holes to find the young; it sslipped through windows to find cradless.'" Kira recited quietly.

"That's awful," Kate shuddered.

Sméagol moved suddenly, pushing the cloak he had been using like a blanket aside. "Awful," he said, opening his eyes. "It would have been. That's why I never did it." He sat up.

Alarmed, Pippin stood and drew his sword. He had not been watching! Kate and Kira jumped at the sound of the sword being drawn, and Sméagol cringed and seemed to shrink away from the weapon.

"Crap, we didn't account for hobbit hearing, did we?" Kira muttered to Kate.

"I know what you think, but I never did it," Sméagol said. "If something was getting into cradles in the woods, it was not me."

Kira looked at Kate, who had inched back a few feet and looked back at her with raised eyebrows.

"All right then, what was it?" Kira asked suspiciously as she stood up slowly and approached the Stoor, whose eyes darted nervously to and from her as she came closer.

"I...killed many things there," Sméagol refused to meet her glance. "Birds, animals...the young were easiest, yes. But never children. Those were dark times--there were nastier things than me in the woods. They are the ones to blame. Not me."

Kira stared at him a bit more, and he shifted uneasily under her gaze. "Okay," she said, "All right, what about Déagol?"

He paled abruptly, but tried to look defiant. "W-what about him?"

"We want to know whether or not you really murdered him," Kira said. Sméagol twitched at the word.

"I did notwell, not murder." He paused, squirming. "It wasn't..." He shook his head furiously. "No!" he squeaked, visibly distressed.

"I'm not accussing you of anything," Kira said. "Jusst tell me what happened. Sso I can figure out if you should be trussted."

He shifted, wringing his hands nervously, then snapped. "It's none of your business."

"Well, I think it iss, Gollum," Kira said sharply.

"Not Gollum. That's not my name!" he hissed at her, his eyes burning. He made a sort of choked sob in the back of his throat, an all-too familiar sound, and then froze in horror, his hand clutching at his throat, and lowered his head in shame.

"Not my fault..." he whispered, rocking back and forth. "Not my fault. It was not my fault. I won't talk about him."

"You're going to," Kira said firmly. "Now, what happened?"

Sméagol's eyes were darting madly left and right, glossing over. "I didn't mean to. I swear I didn't mean to do it. He was trying to hurt me, and it was...it was...it was my birthday," he said defensively. "He should have given it to me! If he had only given it to me, he...I wouldn't have..."

He stopped, his chin quivering, and went on. "We fought for it. He wanted it, and I wanted it. But I was stronger." He was looking at his hands now, clamping them reflexively around an imaginary throat, tears welling up in his eyes. "Poor Déagol, poor Déagol...he never stood a chance." He closed his eyes, and shook his head. "But he didn't lose--I did."

It was hard. It was so hard to remember, now. Not that the memories didn't come easily enough. The hard part was after they had come, after the guilt had set in, now that there was no voice to say that it was not his fault. There was no voice to comfort him, no voice to tell him that he had been right. Because when he was like this, this far away from It, he thought clearly. He could tell himself exactly what he didn't want to hear.

He was a murderer. He had murdered Déagol for a Ring that had done nothing for him but make his life miserable and wretched and dark, for ever and ever. There was nothing Precious about it. It was a horrible, despicable thing, filled with evil and offering no hope, and he hated it, how he hated it...

And he wanted it! Still he wanted it, with a terrible burning desire that was almost a physical pain! He needed the Ring that had ruined his life and brought out everything he hated in himself like he needed to breathe, like he needed to eat. All he could feel was his need for it, his grief, and his monumental fear of having it back.

Kira knelt in front of him, and hesitantly touched his shoulder.

"I--erI'm ssorry, Sméagol," she said, very quietly. "I know it wassn't your fault that it happened. I know you wouldn't have done it if it hadn't been for the...It. But we have to know these thingss."

He did not move, only looked at her hand, which she slowly withdrew, and then looked up at her.

And it was there, suddenly, and he could hear it as clearly as her voice...

"I'll leave you alone," she said, and stood up, but Sméagol followed her and grabbed her hand to get her attention. Kate jumped up, afraid he was going to try and hurt her, but he let go as she turned around and looked at him, her hand pulled back just a bit.

"My name," he said, looking up at her seriously, panting slightly from all the emotion welling up in his chest and choking him. "It's not Sméagol. That's a name, but it's not the right one. My name is Trahald."

Kira blinked.

He went on. "Before all this, the first time, there were different names. Another language. Everyone used it, men, hobbits, dwarves, everyone. Everyone had other names, the first time. Mine was Trahald."

Kira stared. "Wesstron. You remember Wesstron?"

"I didn't before, but I do now. The word for my name at least." He looked imploringly at Kira. "It's too important to forget again."

She almost heard the unspoken words out loud. The words that were in his eyes: remember it. Remember who I am.

Because who knew whether he would, whether or not he'd fall back into mad forgetfulness?

Kira nodded. "I won't forget it, Trahald."

His face split into a sad grin at the sound of his name, and Kira smiled too.

"I'm, uh, gonna go now," she said, pointing to the other side of the fire. "Gotta get ssome ssleep. You sshould, too."

"O. Yes," Trahald blinked a bit and sat down on the log near the fire. "Goodnight."

"You too, Trahald."

He smiled again as she left and sat down. Kate followed, staring at her, her expression a mix of shock and confusion. Kira raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Um. Dude, you were, um...you were being really nice to him just now," Kate said.

Kira continued to raise her eyebrow. "Sso?"

"So. Um. He's Gollum. Remember?"

"I don't think he'ss evil," Kira said. "Just really sscrewed up."

"Yeah, but--"

"Kate, you don't know what it'ss like," Kira said suddenly. "You don't know what it's like when it getss a grip on you. It makes you think of doing thingss that you'd never think of on your own. Anything that would get you closer to It, anything at all, that'ss what you're willing to do," she stared at her hands, Arintalerthirialimsilira's hands, and went on quietly. "It'ss not until later that you realize jusst how bad thosse thingss you wanted to do were...and how closse you were to doing them. It makes you forget to stop yourself from becoming evil."

"Kira--"

"It's sstill there, Kate. It'ss sscreaming at me to go after it."

Kate put her hand on Kira's shoulder and drew her into a hug. Kira stared into Kate's shoulder.

"I can't get it out of my head. I can't get it out," she whispered.

"It's okay," Kate said soothingly. "It's okay, Kira, you're going to be okay."

"It won't go away. It won't leave me alone."

"Get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

"I can't ssleep."

"At least try," Kate said, helping Kira to the ground. "It'll help."

Contrary to her words, Kira was asleep in minutes. Kate tucked the cloak in carefully around her while Pippin wandered over.

"Do you--do you know my name?" he asked Kate slowly. "My real name, in Westron?"

Kate paused for a moment. Was it right to tell him? Would it change anything? Then again, wasn't it something he was supposed to know anyway?

"I think...I think in Westron it was Razanur Tûk."

"Raz..." He paused. "What was that again?" Pippin asked.

She repeated it. He tried to say it once more, but again it completely slipped from his mind, like water through his fingers. "One more time," he asked. She repeated it. It was in his mind for one moment and then gone the next.

"I cannot remember it," he said, disappointed. "Every time you say it, it slips away a moment later."

"That's probably the Stories. They always refer to you as 'Pippin' and it's probably driving your real name from your mind."

"I suppose," he said dejectedly, hanging his head.

"Hey," she said, and she caught his gaze and smiled. "Don't worry about it. Eventually, before this is all over, I bet you that you'll not only remember your name, but all of Westron, too."

For a moment, his eyes were only thoughtful, but then they looked into hers and the corners of his mouth turned up, a little bit of hope and optimism returning.

"I think you're right," he said. His eyes flashed and he place his hands on his hips. "In fact, I'll bet the Shire and everything in it that we'll all remember everything we have forgotten."

"I would't risk taking a bet like that," Kate said, smiling slightly and tucking Kira in, more than any person actually needs to be tucked in.

"Is something wrong with her?" Pippin asked, watching Kira breathe shallowly.

"She just needs to sleep more. She needs all she can get."

Pippin looked at Kira's pale, clammy face and his eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

Kate bit her lip. "She's ill," she said shortly.

"How ill?" Pippin asked. Kate's fingers fumbled slightly as she fastened her bag shut.

"She'll get better," she said shortly.

Pippin watched Kira carefully, her hair hanging damp on her forehead, her skin sallow and glimmering with sweat in the little moonlight there was, and he decided that he doubted Kate could stay in denial for much longer.

*****

In the next chapter: Zombies! Crazy agents! (Are there any other kind?) Rincewind slapping bitches! And it's 4:20 for Kate!