The Threads of an Old Life

Chapter 3

"Let us rest here." Strider stated softly as he laid Frodo down at the foot of a stone troll. He heard a collective sigh and a couple of bodies hit the floor. He knew he'd pushed them hard today, but the hobbits speed still was rather slow. He didn't feel safe here; there still wasn't enough space between the Nazgul and his small charges.

"Look Mr. Frodo…its Bilbo's trolls." Sam's voice was soft and clearly frightened. They'd been running on and off for about two days now, and Frodo was clearly getting worse. His skin became a sickly pale color and his eyes seemed to be slowly whitening. They were running out of time.

Strider glanced at the pair at the other end of the clearing. They'd both been keeping up fairly well and to most they would appear in good shape; but, as a ranger, Strider had better eyes then most. The child he had seen earlier during the battle was small, smaller then the hobbits, if only slightly. He had dark shaggy hair that hovered beneath his rounded jaw, and deep green eyes that seemed to glow in the dim lighting. Strider glanced away but kept an eye on him through the corner of his eye. The child was hurt, of that he was certain. His breaths came out as quiet wheezes, and somewhere along the way he had started to use his wolf friend as a crutch.

"He's gone cold!" Sam's voice carried over to him, and Strider quickly scanned the area…there was an ominous wind in there air.

"Is he going to die?" Strider turned to face the hobbits.

"He's passing into the shadow world, soon he will become a wraith like them."

Frodo let out a strained gasp. He'd been degenerating slowly for these past couple of days, but had suddenly taken a turn for the worst.

In the distance, the Nazgul let out a terrible screech, the sound piercing the hearts of the tired Halflings. Frodo wails in response and the hobbits grow quiet.

"They're close."

Strider quickly glances out into the forest. This wasn't good. Sam was right. They were still days away from Rivendale, and at the rate Frodo's wound was progressing; they weren't going to make it. "Unless…"

"Sam, do you know Athelas plant?"

"Athelas?"

"Kingsfoil?"

"Kingsfoil- aye it's a weed."

Relief flows over Strider as he lets out a soft sigh. "It may help to slow the poison. Hurry!" He sends Sam out into the nearby brush, and turns to the remaining hobbits. "Merry, Pippin" He waved for them to come closer to him. Strider looked at the two and then made a quick decision.

"Merry, stay close to Frodo, keep talking to him. It won't look like he's hearing you but you will help him stay in this world." Merry nodded and returned to Frodo's side, softly mumbling words to the ill hobbit. Strider's eyes shifted over to the other side of the clearing. The Nazgul had been interested in this small child, and that didn't sit well with him. From this distance he couldn't judge much, but he would guess the child was between four to six summers old, and thin…very thin. The boy had eyes that were too old, and they held a sense of mistrust and caution in them that a small child should never have. Which is why he chose Pippin, the youngest and least threatening of their group. "Pippin…I need you to go over and check on the child, see if he's hurt, and if you can find out his name."

Pippins eyes widened and glanced over at the child fearfully. "You mean over there with the wolf?" Strider gave a soft chuckle and nodded. "What if it eats me?!"

"He won't. The wolf seems very calm now; chances are he understands we're here to help. Now go, I have to help Sam find that weed." Strider gave one last reassuring smile and gently pushed the small hobbit in the direction of the child. Pippin crossed his arms behind his back, and started to whistle as he took slow measured steps closer to the small child. Strider glanced over and smirked as he saw the boy give a small smile at Pippin's antics. With one last long look at the remaining group, Strider turned and walked into the dense shrubbery.

Sirius kept his eyes on the small man, as he worked his way over to them. He knew it would only be a matter of time he and Harry would be confronted, but he had been certain it would be from the tall dark haired man. He watched as the curly haired man-child began to whistle and casually walked closer. He seemed innocent enough, but he couldn't know for sure. Sirius had come to realize that there was a lot in this world he didn't know.

Sirius glanced down to Harry. He was so small. Harry looked more like the child he had left when he went to Azkaban then the young teenager he'd met two years ago. He was also thin, way too thin. Sirius felt the familiar burn of hatred towards the muggles that had raised him. As soon as he had led Harry into the safety of that tower, Sirius had looked him over for injuries. Hand prints, and slash marks, from what he assumed was a belt, littered Harry's body, but despite that Harry wrote it off and told Sirius not to worry about it. Sirius had known the second he saw Harry two years ago, that Harry was strong. But it wasn't until he heard Harry call his injuries, "no big deal" did he really understand how strong the boy was. Years of abuse and neglect, and yet he still had courage, still had a will to protect those he cared about. He was proud of Harry, and extremely guilty that he hadn't been the one to see him grow into the young man he had become. Guilty that he had failed in the one thing he had promised James and Lily. And now, he had almost failed again. He had almost been too late.

He froze. When he saw the large cloaked figure that had grabbed onto Harry, his mind went straight back to the thirteen painful years in Azkaban, with the dementors, and…he froze. He'd almost let whatever those cloaked figures were, get Harry.

Harry's sudden soft chuckle pulled Sirius out of his gloomy thoughts, and he turned to look back at the small man-child. The man-child had stopped a little ways away and was now examining a tree as if it was the first he had ever seen. Sirius rolled his eyes and curled himself closer to Harry, his eyes twinkling with amusement. It was then that the small man walked over to them, still staying out of his striking range.

"Hi-ya…My name is Peregrin Took, but people call me Pippin… what's y-your name?" The small man-child spoke up, his voice cracking and his body tense as his eyes floated back and forth between Harry and Sirius.

Harry glanced at Sirius's face, and then back to Pippin. He gave a small shy smile and spoke quietly "…Harry." His voice was still raspy from the greenish bruise that circled his neck, but his soft words hid this well. Sirius watched as Pippin dug his toe into the ground, before he finally looked up at them.

"Your wolf friend isn't gonna eat me, is he?"

Harry gave out a light giggle and shook his head, "no…Sirius doesn't eat humans."

Pippin looked up and took a couple of hurried steps forward, his hand placed on his chest, eyes wide with fear. "It's not men I'm worried about. What about Hobbits?"

"Hobbits?" Harry tilted his head slightly and leaned out of Sirius's fur. Sirius's eyes examined the man before him closely. He had assumed that he was simply born small; it didn't even cross his mind that he might not be human, but now that he was looking for it the difference was almost too obvious. Pippin's curly light brown hair just barely hid his pointed ears, and despite his short stature his feet were rather large. They were hairy and completely bare of any sort of protection from the harsh ground. His face told of someone in their mid twenties, but he acted closer to Harry's real age.

"Yes, Hobbits. You know Halflings, Shire-folk?" When Harry still didn't show any signs of understanding, Pippin gave a sigh. "Well, if he ever gets hungry enough to eat a hobbit, you let him know we hobbits taste horrible." Pippin crossed his arms and gave a slight nod of his head.

"Sirius."

"What?" Pippin's arms dropped and he tilted his head in confusion.

"His name's Sirius," Harry clarified, placing a small hand on Sirius's side.

"Serious? Well, I guess he seems pretty serious…" Pippin took another cautious step forward and kneeled down next to Harry.

Harry let out a giggle and shook his head. "Not serious, Sirius."

Sirius watched as Pippin continued to look at Harry with confusion on his face, but he nodded to the boy nevertheless. Pippin, feeling brave and comforted by the young boy next to him, slowly raised his hand and brought it towards the wolf's side. Sirius watched as the nervous hobbit reached out. Though Pippin acted like a teenager, he also had a sense of innocence that calmed the wolf. When Pippin's fingers touched his dark black fur, he let out a soft comforting hum. Pippin jumped, before smiling and petting Sirius's side, "hello, Serious…"

There was a loud wheeze from the other side of the clearing, and Sirius's eyes jumped back to the other two hobbits. Pippin tensed and his eyes grew sad. Sirius couldn't see Harry's face but his tone dropped into a whisper. "Is he going to be ok?"

Pippin turned back to Harry and put on a large, fake smile. "Frodo will be fine, he's my cousin you know. Well, Second cousin, once removed, but I've known him all my life, and never will you meet a stronger hobbit. My mum says its because all the time he spends with old Bilbo, and…" Sirius slowly stopped listening to the hobbits rambling. His ears perked up and he sat straighter. He could hear hoof prints; someone…or something was coming.

Sirius stood and Harry quickly stumbled to his feet as well, and after a few tense seconds a woman on a horse appeared, and a sense of calm washed over the group.

"Frodo…I am Arwen. I have come to help you." Sirius's ears prickled and his head shot up. This woman wasn't speaking English, but when she spoke, a sense of understanding fell over him.

"Hear my voice. Come back to the light."

"Who is she?" The other hobbit asked as Sam stood to the side.

"She's an elf." The rounder hobbit responded, his voice small and full of wonder.

"Frodo!" Arwen rushed forward and kneeled at the ill hobbit's side, placing her hands on his chest. The tall dark haired man rushed after her and began to chew a small plant. Pushing the chewed substance into Frodo's wound carefully.

"He's fading!" Arwen grasped Frodo's small hand as he let out a wheezed gasp. "He's not going to last. We must get him to my father. I've been looking for you for two days." She stood and Strider nodded, lifting Frodo up into his arms.

One of the Hobbits took a step forward and frowned. "Where are you taking him?" No one responded, Strider mounted Frodo onto Arwen's horse, a sense of urgency returning to the group.

"There are five wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know." She made a move to get onto the horse, but Strider blocked her path. He turns to her and gave her a determined look.

"Stay with the hobbits. I will send horses back for you. The boy doesn't say much but he will follow." His voice was quiet and rushed, but Arwen didn't let go of the reins.

"I'm the faster rider. I'll take him."

"The road is too dangerous." Strider's face was pleading, and he had a firm hold on the horses saddle.

Pippin stood and slowly walked away from Sirius and Harry. "What are they saying?"

"Frodo's dying. If I can get across the river, the power of my people will protect him." Her eyes grew soft and she gave a small smile. "I do not fear them."

Strider gave a soft sigh and nodded, "As you wish." Their hands clasp tenderly before Arwen mounts her horse, with Frodo seated in front of her. She glanced back, and her eyes wonder to Sirius and Harry.

"I fear that the wraths will come back once they see Frodo is beyond their reach… be careful."

Strider nodded in understanding and slowly backed away from the horse. "Arwen, ride hard. Don't look back!"

The Elven lady reached around Frodo and spoke directly into the horse's ear. "Ride fast, Asfaloth, ride fast!" She whispered harshly, and the horse was off, flying away from them quicker then they could have ever managed. Sam quickly walked forward and gasped.

"What are you doing?! Those wraiths are still out there!"

Strider stood with his back towards them for a few seconds, before turning to face his remaining charges. "Gather your things, we need to move."

A.N: Well there is the next chapter! I'm happy to say most of you did answer the question right! I was talking about "respect hippogriffs" part of the third book. A few of you answered with other things though, and i give props to you as well, it was cool seeing what other people picked up in my writing :)

The three winners from last time were:

AnarchistMongoose

Xyla Zhin

My PenName is

They got the first chunk roughly two days ago, and truth be told I wasn't going to post this until thursday, but I found some time and I was finally able to go back and edit :)

This time the game is (in the words of young Pippin) "What are they saying?" We happened to be in sirius's point of view and thus we were reading the elvish as english, but I will give a preview to the first four reviews who translate Awen's entrence back into elvish. You know those first two lines, where in the movie Frodo see's Arwen appear in a shinning light and speaking slow elvish to him.

"I am Arwen. I have come to help you."

"Hear my voice. Come back to the light."

First four get a preview!

PLEASE REVIEW, it makes me more excited to write for you guys ^~^ thank you again for EVERYONE who reviewed/favored/followed this story.