Well, here it is; the sequel! These are the first three chapters of Journey to the Two Towers. Hopefully, ya'll have read the first in my trilogy, Journey with the Fellowship. If you haven't you should probably stop right here and read it first; you'll be lost otherwise.

I want dedicate this to my reviewers who have encouraged me greatly in this endeavor. So to say thank you, here you go. Journey to the Two Towers.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings trilogy or the characters therein; I only own Aurora, who unfortunately is not in these first few chapters. (So to speak) Don't worry though, she's coing back.

Chapter 1

Aragorn, a Ranger of the North; Legolas, an Elvin prince of Mirkwood; Boromir, son of Denethor of Gondor; and Gimli, son of Gloin, were racing a through the woods and onto the plains of Rohan in pursuit of the fiendish Orcs who had taken their friends, the two hobbits Merry and Pippin captive. They had been chasing their quarry for three days and nights, with little food and no rest. Aragorn, the best tracker besides perhaps Legolas, had his ear to the ground, listening for the footsteps of their foes.

"Their pace has quickened." He said. "They have caught our scent. Hurry!" Then they were off once more, the two men and elf together and the dwarf trailing behind. Aragorn kept an eye on the trail as they went. Suddenly, he stooped down, and picked something up out of the grass. It looked like a newly opened leaf, fair and strange on the treeless plains.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall." said Aragorn, showing the leaf to the others.

"The brooch of an elvin-cloak!" Legolas and Gimli cried.

"Judging by the tracks here, it is most likely Pippin's." Aragron replied.

"Then they may yet be alive!" Boromir said hopefully.

"Indeed." Said Aragorn.

The sun soared across the sky as the Four Hunters made their way across the plain. All too soon it seemed, the sun sank in the west, but they went on. Finally, however they decided to rest. Aragorn feared losing the trail in dark. So, they rested for the first time since the day Aurora died.

Even as he ran, Boromir could not keep from thinking about her. The image of the last time he saw her, lying in the funeral boat, would not leave his mind. Since her last charge to him was to find the young hobbits, he chased the monsters that took them with everything within him. He was determined to bring justice upon the creatures that had taken his beloved Aurora away from him.

They all rose the next morning to a red dawn. "Blood was spilled this night." remarked Legolas.

"I believe that you are right." replied Aragorn. "The sound of the hoofs, horses galloping, passing in the West, troubled my dreams. But now they are drawing ever further from us, riding northward."

"I have heard them as well." said Boromir. "I wonder what is happening in this land." So, they started another day in their chase. Unfortunately, they were further behind than before. After a while, Aragorn saw a shadow on the distant green, a dark swift-moving blur. He quickly dropped to the ground to listen again. Legolas stood beside him, shading is eyes. His keen Elf-eyes saw not a shadow or blur, but small figures of many, many horsemen, their spears glinting in the morning light like tiny stars in the distance.

"Riders!" cried Aragorn, jumping to his feet. "Many Riders of swift steeds are coming towards us!"

"Yes," said Legolas, "there are one hundred and five. Yellow is their hair, and bright are their spears. Their leader is very tall."

"Shall we wait for them her or go on our way?" Gimli asked.

"We will wait," said Aragorn. "I am weary, and our hunt has failed. Or at least others were there before us; for these horsemen are riding back down the orc-trail. We may even get news from them." The four companions sat at the foot of the hill, wrapped in their cloaks, and waited. After a while the distant best of galloping hoofs could be heard. Then the cries of clear strong voices came ringing over the fields. Suddenly the horsemen rode up with a noice like thunder, and the foremost horsemen swerved, passing the foot of the hill. After him the horsemen rode: a long line of mail-clad men, swift, shining, fell and fair to look upon.

Their horses were tall, strong, and clean-limbed; their grey coats glistened, their long tails braided manes flowed in the wind. The men riding them matched; their long flaxen hair flow from under helms in braids that streamed behind them in the wind. Their faces were stern and keen. In their hands were tall ash spears, on their belts were long swords, and painted shields were at their backs. Their burnished mail shirts fell down upon their knees.

They galloped by in pairs, every now and then one standing in the saddle to look around. However, not one seemed to notice the four strangers sitting in the grass watching them. The host had almost passed when Aragorn rose, hailing them. "What news from the Mark, Riders of Rohan?" he called.

With great skill them checked their mounts and wheeled them around, surrounding Aragorn, Legolas, Boromir, and Gimli with incredible speed. Before they knew what was happening, the four companions had a thicket of spear aimed at them, and a few bows as well. The one rode forward, who was taller than the rest and had a white horsetail streaming from the top of his helmet.

"What business does an Elf, two Men, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!" the man growled.

"Give your name, young horsemaster," said Gimli calmly. "and I shall give you mine." At those words the horseman angrily dismounted.

"I would cut off you head, dwarf, if in stood but a little higher from the ground." He spat.

Quicker than sight, Legolas fitted an arrow to his string and drew his bow. "You would die before your stroke fell!" he retorted. Aragorn and Boromir quickly intervened before any blood was shed.

"I am Aragorn, son of Aragon. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas of the woodland realm." Aragorn said quickly.

"And I am Boromir, son of Denethor of Gondor." said Boromir, finishing introductions.

"We are friends of Rohan," continued Aragorn, "and of Theoden, your king."

"Theoden no longer recongnizes friend from foe." the horseman said, removing his helmet. "Not even his own kin." Aragorn stood amazed, for it was Eomer, Third Marshall of the Mark, nephew of the King Theoden. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and has claimed lordship over these lands." Eomer continued as the other horsemen raised theirs spears. "My company and I are loyal to Rohan, and for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip pass our nets."

"We are no spies." said Boromir.

"We are tracking a party of Uruk-kai westward across the plains. They hold two of our friends captive." Aragorn said.

"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them in the night." replied Eomer.

"Did see you two hobbits?" asked Gimli anxiously. "Did you see two hobbits with them?"

"They would be small," remarked Aragorn. "only children in your eyes." Eomer shook his head.

"We left none alive." he said sadly.

They were all dazed. "Dead?" asked Gimli numbly. Eomer bowed his head. Legolas laid a hand on Gimli shoulder.

Then Eomer whistled and called, "Hasufel! Arod! Ceorl!" Three horses came forward, one white, one brown, and the other dappled grey. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters." he said mounting his horse. "We piled the carcasses and burned them. Look for your friends, but do not trust a hope. It has forsaken these lands." He then turned and shouted to his men, "We ride north!" The horsemen turned and left, galloping off into the distance. Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, and Gimli quickly mounted and rode toward the burning pile of carcasses indicated by Eomer.

Gimli searched the mass of bodies near the battlefield for sign of Merry and Pippin while Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir searched the surrounding ground. When no trace was found by the still smouldering pile, Aragorn let out a yell of rage and despair. Boromir sank sorrowfully to knees, his head in his hands. Legolas whispered something in elvish, and Gimli sadly said "We failed them."

"And Aurora." said Boromir brokenly. Aragorn looked at the ground he knelt on.

"A hobbit lay here," he murmured, pointing. "The other here. They crawled; their hands were bound. They were followed." The others watched Aragorn carefully studying the tracks. "Their bonds were cut." He continued as he picked up a piece of frayed rope. Aragorn was walking quickly as he followed the path of the hobbits. "The tracks lead away from the battle," he started hopefully. "and into Fangorn Forest." he ended gloomily.

"Fangorn." Gasped Gimli. "What madness would drive them in there?"

Chapter 2

Pippin and Merry were roughly tossed to the ground by the orcs carrying them. Soon the orcs got into a fight amongst themselves about whether or not they could eat the hobbits. Suddenly, arrows and spears were flying through the air, and the hobbits could hear the battle-cries of men and the screams of horses. They were able to crawl away in the confusion and cut their bonds so they could move about freely. However, an orc soon caught them trying to escape, and chased them into the nearby woods.

"Did we lose him?" Pippin asked as he gasped for breath. Merry looked around the clearing they were in.

"I think we lost him." He answered just before they heard the orc's yells not too far away. "Climb a tree! Quick, climb a tree!" whispered Merry. The two hobbits clambered up a tree just as the orc came in sight and ran off under their hiding place.

"He gone!" said Merry happily. Then, he felt an iron grip on his ankle and he was pulled out of the tree onto the ground by the orc.

"Merry!" screamed Pippin as two goldin eyes appeared near his face on the tree. He gasped and began falling out of tree himself. The tree caught the young hobbit and suddenly appeared to have legs as he stomped the orc trying to kill Merry just as the orc was raising his blade. "Run Merry!" yelled Pippin, but the tree caught Merry up too.

"What have we here? Two small orcs?" asked the tree gruffly. It had deep golden eyes, a long mossy beard, and a deep gravelly voice. It over all shape was somewhat like a man, but his body was covered in bark and his feet looked like they were made of roots. It's hands and arms were branches.

"The tree is talking, Merry." Pippin gasped.

"Tree? I am no tree!" cried the creature. "I am an Ent."

"A tree-herder! Shepherd of the forest." said Merry excitedly "We're not orcs, we're hobbits."

"Don't encourage it, Merry." worriedly said Pippin.

"Hobbits? Never heard of a hobbit before. It sounds like orc mischief to me." replied the Ent, squeezing the hobbits in his hands.

"We're hobbits! Halflings! Shirefolk!" gasped out Merry and Pippin.

"Maybe you are, and maybe you aren't." said the ent. "The White Wizard will know."

"White Wizard?" wondered Pippin.

"Saruman." muttered Merry. Then the ent suddenly dropped them on the ground. When they raised their faces, Merry and Pippin found themselves at the feet of white haired man arrayed completely in white, glowing robes. For a moment, they thought they saw someone else in white standing behind him, but the figure turned and disappeared into the woods.

Chapter 3

"Well, we're in a fix, make no mistake." said Sam, looking gloomily around him. It was the third day since they left the rest of the Fellowship and they were wondering the misty Emyn Muil. For the last few days they head scrambled over rocks and hills in the dank fog that was ever present. "Why does this place look familiar?" asked Sam.

"It's because we've been here before." said Frodo wearily. "We're going in circles." He sank down and sat on a stone.

"We'll take a rest." said Sam. Frodo took a sip of water from his bottle, and turned to Sam.

"What food have we got left?" he asked.

Sam began digging in his pack. "Let me see… oh yes, lembas bread...and look, Mr. Frodo, more lembas bread." He replied in sarcastic excitement. He handed Frodo a piece and began munching on his own. "I don't usually hold with foreign food," said Sam, "but this elvish stuff's not too bad." Frodo chuckled at his companion,

"Nothing dampens your spirits, does it, Sam." He smiled. Sam looked up at the darkening sky.

"Those rainclouds might." He replied.

The two hobbits continued doggedly, trying to find their through the seemingly endless rocky landscape around them.

"There's an iron stink in the air. I wonder if there's a nasty bog nearby." remarked Sam. "Do you smell it?"

"Yes," answered Frodo. "I smell it." He paused then looked over at Sam. "We're not alone." He whispered.

It's a cliffhanger, I know, but how else do I keep ya'll's attention? Please review! It would be greatly apreciated!