//------------------------------// // Acquaintances New and Old // Story: Fellowship is Magic // by Mr-War //------------------------------// Acquaintances New and Old Three days. That was the amount of time that Spike, Frodo, and Sam had spent trekking their way through the razor-sharp hills of Emyn Muil, after having left their boat by the shore. And in three days time they had finally reached the top of a particular hill, that oversaw an ominous, dark, fiery light that was painfully visible even from a great distance such as this. Their destination, the mountain of fire in the land of Mordor, awaited them with all the friendliness of an executioner. "Mordor," Sam stated breathlessly, "the one place in Middle-Earth we don't want to see any closer. And it's the one place in the world we're trying to get to. It's just where we can't get." Sam then turned to face Frodo and added, "Let's face it, Mr. Frodo, we're lost." "It sure looks that way," Spike replied in agreement. "We need to get there, but we can't exactly do that if we can't find our way through all this mess." "Well," said Sam, "... I don't think Gandalf meant for us to come this way, Spike." "... He didn't mean for a lot of things to happen Sam," interjected Frodo, "... but they did regardless." Despite their best efforts at keeping their spirits up, remembering those that had fallen had done a number on those efforts. So much for team morale. "Yeah? Well even though he's not here, Gandalf probably wouldn't want us giving up on this. Heck, he'd probably kick us in the butt if he heard us talking like this. And that's to say nothing of the scolding that Twilight would be giving us right now," Spike pointed out. "We're gonna get to Mordor, eventually. One way or another. We don't really have much choice in the matter; we need to get to Mount Doom and put an end to all this. Otherwise Gandalf died for nothing," he added. They'd already learned the hard way, for a second time now, that he simply couldn't keep the ring down long enough to let his own stomach do the work. He'd tried valiantly at holding it in, but his efforts had ultimately been for naught, as the ring was going to have none of that, and simply forced its way back up and out, both violently and painfully. "Let's just keep moving. We need to go and put Sauron in his place; make him suffer for all he's done to us," he added. "... Yeah, Spike, you're right," Sam agreed, his spirit rising again. Frodo looked at Spike with a determined look in his eye. "Thank you for your speech of confidence, Spike," he said, smiling. However his smile didn't last for long. Looking towards the mountain of fire once again, he both felt and saw the Eye of Sauron, zooming in on him, in a flash! AAACKKK! Frodo gasped and backed away, panting. Everyone gasped at Frodo's dilemma, and Spike rushed towards him as he fell into his short arms. "Frodo," Spike said, voice heavy with concern, "are you okay?" Frodo continued to pant heavily. Sam gave a worried look at Frodo. "Frodo?" he asked, "...it's the Ring, isn't it?" "It's getting heavier," replied Frodo as he went on panting, clutching the Ring in his hand. "Just hold on Frodo," interjected Spike, "we'll destroy the Ring soon enough." Frodo slowly and weakly nodded at him as he sat down and fumbled for his animal skin flask to take a sip of water. Seeing this just served to remind Spike of how hungry he was. He could try and abate that hunger by chewing on some of the rocks in the area, but they really didn't taste all that good. They had a long way to go before he was willing to sit down and do that, although the constant hollow gnawing at his stomach was doing its best to get him to that point. "What sort of wild beast was that just now?" Sam asked at hearing the growling. "I guess that'd be my stomach. I'm starving over here," Spike admitted. Frodo couldn't help but feel sympathetic for Spike's plight. "What food have we got left, Sam?" "Well, let me see," Sam said as he took off his backpack and set it down to look inside of it. "Oh yes, lovely... Lembas bread," he said as he dug through their supplies, "and look. More Lembas bread," he added sarcastically as he presented the leaf-wrapped goods that were presently available to them. "Don't knock it. You didn't taste the rocks in the area," Spike pointed out. Sam had no retort for that. Given the option, the Lembas bread sounded like the better of the two. Shrugging, he broke off a few pieces and tossed them over to Frodo and Spike, before munching on a piece for himself. "Thanks, Sam," Spike said as he bit into the bread, thankful that they had it on hand. "I don't usually hold with foreign food," said Sam, swallowing his piece down, "but this Elvish stuff, it's not bad." "Nothing ever dampens your spirits, does it Sam?" inquired Frodo as he smiled. "It's probably for the best that it doesn't," added Spike, finishing of his Lembas before wiping his claws free of crumbs. "If Sam ever lost his positive outlook on the situation, then that'd be a pretty dark day for Middle Earth indeed." Out of the three of them, Sam had remained probably the most optimistic about their plight. And if anyone asked him, he'd rather not see it any other way. Seeing Sam succumb to despair, would be like seeing Pinkie succumb to sadness and revert back to Pinkamena status. He really didn't want to see that again, regardless of who it was. Frodo smiled even brighter at the baby dragon's comment. Sam smiled back at Frodo and Spike. Although the smile wasn't long to last, as they observed what was currently on the horizon and approaching. "I don't know about my spirits, but those rain clouds coming in might be dampening quite a bit of things," Sam pointed out. "We'd best get moving while we still can." "You don't need to tell me twice," Spike replied. Trapped between water and fire, what a predicament. Oh well, onward to Mordor! The three travelers continued trekking through difficult terrain, often huddling underneath their cloaks when it rained, to keep themselves dry so that they wouldn't catch cold. Even though Spike knew Twilight would point out that being caught in the rain didn't actually cause someone to get sick. Regardless of that fact, though, the path of Emyn Muil became endless each time they trekked, going on for days and days. When they reached a particular spot, Sam looked around like he knew where they are. "This looks strangely familiar," Sam mentioned. Frodo did know this particular place as well. "... Its because we've been here before," he said, exasperated. "We're going in circles." "I'd say it's more like a giant maze than just a circle," Spike pointed out. "I know, Spike," Frodo agreed. "Ah! What's that 'orrid stink?" gasped Sam, getting Frodo and Spike's attention, "I'll warrant there's a nasty bog nearby... can any of you smell it?" A few moments passed. "Yes," Frodo answered as he came up beside Sam, "... I can smell it." "The winds must've shifted. We never smelt that before," Spike commented. "Worse yet. We're not alone here," Frodo stated as he turned to look at them. "Something is following us..." "Maybe it's Twilight and the rest? Maybe they found the others and they're finally catching up with us?" Spike asked hopefully. He'd expected their two groups to reunite days ago, just hours after their journey had started. But so far that simply hasn't happened yet. So the prospect of them not being alone here had him hoping for the best. Frodo shook his head in response. "I do not believe that to be the case, Spike. If it were our friends, they would be letting us know of their presence. But what is following us, is trying not to be discovered. It is sneaking about in a shifty manner." "Is it that Gollum thing?" Sam asked. "I fear that may be the case, Sam," Frodo replied. "Huh," Spike muttered, wondering how such could be since the bridge down in the mines of Moria had collapsed with Gollum on the other side. How he'd crossed the chasm was a mystery. But it was a mystery that could wait until later; right now they had more important things to do. "Well then, if we're going to have guests, let's get ready. I've got an idea." Aragorn may have allowed himself and his companions a few more hours of precious sleep if he'd known what had befallen Ugluk's company. That not being the case, however, Fellowship Team Alpha had maintained the schedule it had lived by over the last few days. Twilight, Rainbow Dash and Legolas kept watch overnight until their companions roused at dawn. Aragorn's first order of business was checking Applejack and Boromir's wounds. The good news was the healing that resulted from the medicine given to Spike was holding up quite well, and showing no signs of coming undone by the strenuous workout they'd been subjected to. "You two are quite fortunate," an upbeat Aragorn told the Gondorian and earth pony. "Although when this is all over, you may have trouble showing off your battle scars to others. As it is, they are proving quite difficult to see." "Ah reckon we'll have plenty ta show off before all is said an' done," Applejack commented in response. "I fear you're right, Applejack," Rarity replied, "but we won't make it easy for them. Whatever scars we may gather, our enemies will have far worse to contend with," All present smiled at Rarity's statement, with one exception. Legolas's attention was presently on the eastern skies, too focused on it to focus on the banter of the Fellowship. "A red sun rises," he commented to no one in particular. Twilight had compared Legolas to an early warning radar spell often used in less developed regions of Equestria, where the weather wasn't overseen by pegasi. But like all radars, the Elf was sometimes hard to read. " I'm sorry, Legolas, but I'm not following. What does a red sun have to do with anything?" she asked. Legolas turned to his companions and spoke in an ominous tone. "I fear much blood has been spilt this past night." To say that Legolas's observation had caused more than a few jitters among their group would be a severe understatement. There was the natural urge to panic, and assume he meant that the blood of their friends had been spilt, even though they had no actual evidence to verify the claim with. From there it had more or less just become one big blur as they trekked along at a more frantic pace, desperate to find out the truth, and hope against all hope that their friends were still alright. They didn't come to their first stop of the day for quite some time, when they stumbled upon a large assortment of tracks in the ground, which Aragorn knelt down to examine. The whole Fellowship's attention was turned south at the sound of a horse's whinny. Aragorn stopped examining tracks, and walked to join the rest of the Fellowship to observe a dust cloud heading their way from the same direction. Legolas relayed what his Elven eyes saw through the dust cloud. "A hundred heavily armoured horsemen head in our direction," he reported. "But not because they've seen us." "Rohirrim?" Rarity both guessed and concluded. "Yes, Rarity," Boromir answered. "Servants of Sauron don't use horses this far west of Mordor. And Saruman would only use horses as fodder for his orcs." Before Twilight could ask what mounts the enemies of the Free People used, she instead learned the Rohirrim went by another name. "The Eorlingas may have no love for the enemy," Aragorn remarked. "But they also do not lightly suffer incursions into their lands - even by supposed friends." At a quick signal of Aragorn's, the group hurried and hid behind a small clump of boulders just to their right. As the Rohirrim and their steeds rode past them unaware, the Fellowship felt the ground vibrate beneath them. They smelt the horses' sweaty odor and heard the clatter made by their rider's armor and weapons. Once the last of the Rohirrim had rode past the Fellowship, Aragorn moved out from behind the boulders into plain sight. "What are you doing, Aragorn?!" Twilight asked in a harsh, concerned whisper. "Do not be alarmed, Twilight," Legolas assured her. "Aragorn merely wishes to speak with the Horse-lords, not engage them in battle." "None of you reach for your weapons until they know we can be trusted," Boromir added hastily. Twilight thought there must be some strange codes of conduct in Middle-earth as Aragorn cried out to the Rohirrim at the top of his voice. "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?" The rider at the front of the Rohirrim's formation, obviously their leader, raised his spear with his right arm. At this signal, the Rohirrim turned sharply to their left in a manner that reminded Twilight of a school of fish. She noticed the riders had weapons and armor of varying quality, and guessed the Rohirrim was like the armies of Earth Pony, Pegasus and Unicorns during ancient times, before the Princesses established their rule on Equestria. Ponies spent part of the year in the military service as duty to their lord, or lady, who gave them land to reside on. Usually these ponies had to pay for their own equipment, unlike having them paid for by the Crown. In practical terms, at least in terms of equipment, this usually meant a conscripted peasant was more likely to die on the battlefield than a wealthy knight was, but there were always exceptions to that rule. That said, the way these Rohirrim precisely maneuvered into an ever-tightening circle around the Fellowship indicated they were still a well-trained unit. They eventually surrounded the Fellowship in a tight mass. Rainbow Dash shared a glance with Twilight, muscles tensed in anticipation. "This isn't good," Rainbow Dash whispered to Twilight's ear from behind. "What's our plan if push comes to shove?" "Bright lights to temporarily blind them, then I'll quickly teleport their weapons away," Twilight quietly replied. "But only if they start attacking, it would be best if we try to set up diplomatic relations with the Rohirrim first." Rainbow Dash merely grunted in response. The leader of these Rohirrim moved through their compact ranks until none stood between him and Twilight, Rarity, Gimli and Aragorn who faced him. Rarity noted the leader had what appeared to be well made scale armor, with it being covered by a thick leather pad across his broad chest. The helmet he wore had what appeared to be a long plume of what she could only assume was gold horse hair that fell down the back of his neck, as well as its nose-guard being crafted in the shape of a horse's head. The Equestrians' education continued as they learned how the Rohirrim commonly referred to their homeland. "What business does an Elf, a Dwarf, Men and strangely colored ponies with wings and horns have in the Riddermark?" the leader sharply asked the Fellowship. Boromir was standing behind Aragorn, partially hidden from the leader's line of sight. At the leader's first words, Boromir immediately knew which Rohirrim was speaking to the Fellowship, and quickly moved out into the open. "Third Marshal Eomer, do you remember me?" he addressed the leader. "It is I, Lord Boromir." The Rohirrim began murmuring to each other when they realized they were in the presence of the Son of the Steward of Gondor. Eomer, son of Eomund was the high ranking Third Marshal of the Riddermark. He was also the nephew and adopted son of Theoden, the current King of Rohan. Inwardly, Eomer cursed himself for not recognizing the Captain-General of Rohan's most important ally. Eomer first met Boromir when he spent a summer in Gondor just before entering into manhood. He had accompanied his cousin Theodred, the only child and heir of Theoden. Boromir selflessly took Eomer and Theodred under his wing during their visit as well as being a good military mentor. The summer stay in Gondor by the pair of Rohirrim royalty was a diplomatic gesture to help stop the widening rift in relations between Theoden and Denethor. On that basis, the visit was a failure. While Rohan and Gondor were still technically allies, their rulers were barely on speaking terms for a number of reasons. Boromir, Theodred and Eomer had privately confirmed to each other through their mutual commitment to the Oath of Eorl during the latter two's stay in Gondor. No matter the animosity between their fathers, his uncle in Eomer's case, they would always try to assist each other in their respective country's struggles. Eomer handed his spear to a subordinate to his right before he dismount off his trusted steed, Firefoot. He walked up to Boromir and took off his helmet before both men gave each other a short but sincerely felt bow. The Equestrians saw that Eomer was perhaps not much more than half an inch taller than Boromir. The Third Marshal had dirty blond shoulder length hair as well as a similar coloured short beard that clung to his face. Eomer gave a resolute sounding apology. "Please forgive me for not recognizing you at first, Lord Boromir." Boromir then made an apology of his own. "On behalf of my friends and I, we ask your pardon for entering the Mark without so much as the King's leave." This side of Boromir that she had not seen before fascinated Rainbow Dash. One of the main reasons the pair had become friends was because they were both loyal, action-speaks-louder-than-words individuals. Plus there was the matter of how the ring had affected the both of them. Yet here was Boromir, demonstrating that he was well versed in the diplomatic arts. In times of peace, saluting and respectfully speaking to each other was generally considered a sufficient display of etiquette between soldiers of Equestria and her allies, based on what she knew of history. But here in Middle-Earth things seemed more complex, where Eomer and Boromir had to exchange a series of gallant pleasantries before getting down to business. It sort of reminded her of a fancy courtship ritual unfolding. "Milord, of course you're welcome," Eomer said before casting his eye over the other Fellowship members, especially the Ponies in the group. "Though I must say, your choice of traveling companions is interesting, to say the least." "Our Fellowship may be an interesting collection of representatives of the Free Peoples," Boromir advised. "But you have my word they are as much a friend to Rohan as I myself." "I meant no offense, milord," Eomer quickly reassured Boromir. "I'm nonetheless curious as to why you wear an Elven cloak." Of the Fellowship present, only Rarity and Rainbow Dash weren't wearing their said cloaks. Raritys' bloody cloak was discarded at Amon Hen after Aragorn had used it to staunch Boromir's bleeding, as well as Applejack's own. She hadn't even hesitated before offering it up upon seeing their condition, even going so far as to rip it in two herself. Rainbow Dash had offered her unused Galadhrim cloak as a replacement at seeing this, but she had politely declined the offer, idly commenting that it didn't really go with her fur. And with her fur as stained as it was, it would be a shame to soil yet another fine cloak when it didn't need to be. "Our Fellowship left Lothlorien just over a week ago," Boromir informed Eomer. "Our cloaks are a gift from the Lady who rules it with her Lord." Eomer's eyes narrowed after what Boromir had said. "Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell!" Eomer calmly exclaimed before commenting, "You must've had no choice but to enter it and risk the Lady's attentions, and her dark, sorcerous ways." It was at this point in time, for the first time in centuries, a Dawrf actually spoke to defend the honor of a member of Elven royalty. "You speak the words of fools, Lord Eomer," Gimli told him in an insulting and patronizing manner. "You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you." Eomer's eyes blazed at the insult. He firmly stepped towards Gimli. "If you were not accompanying Lord Boromir, Dwarf," the Third Marshal coldly threatened him. "I would cut off your head off, if it stood but a little higher from the ground." That was the breaking point for a good portion of Fellowship Team Alpha. At hearing one of their own being threatened, Rainbow Dash and Applejack didn't hesitate before taking an offensive posture, beaten only by Legolas' speed as he readied an arrow. "Ah don' care who ya are! Ya don' go an' threaten our friends right in front of us!" Applejack stated angrily. "Yeah!" Rainbow Dash snapped. "You try it, and I'll deck you so hard, your head's gonna go flying right off your neck!" "I'll be doing even worse than that!" Pinkie practically bellowed, figuring she'd have to make use of her hooves rather than her sling in this situation. Pointing his arrow at Eomer with his bow, Legolas quickly added to the barrage of threats. "You would die before your stroke fell!" This wasn't how Twilight wanted to broach the subject. Not at all. She'd wanted peaceful interactions between their two groups, but that wasn't the case anymore. Many of the Rohirrim, understandably, reacted with surprise at being confronted by talking ponies. And the threats of violence hadn't helped matters either. Both she and Rarity were painfully annoyed at their friends who, despite-knowing better, opted to inflame a tense situation. Not to mention disregarding Boromir's earlier advice about them not raising their weapons in such a hostile and preemptive manner. "Alright, that's more than enough. Everyone stand down, all of you!" she commanded loudly. Legolas slowly lowered his bow, just as Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie allowed themselves to relax. Such was the power of Twilight's voice when she decided to take charge, just as she had done at Elrond's council; even some of the Rohirrim who had raised their weapons in Eomer's defence involuntarily lowered theirs as well. Inwardly, Aragorn thanked Twilight for her actions, before joining in on the negotiations. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he introduced himself before others in the Fellowship was unfamiliar with. "This is Gimli, son of Gloin and Legolas of the Woodland Realm." "Princess Twilight Sparkle, Fourth Princess of the land of Equestria and Co-leader of the Fellowship, as per orders of Gandalf the Grey. These are my friends, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie," Twilight said as she made her own round of introductions to the present Rohirrim. "As Boromir said," Aragorn resumed, "all of us are friends of Rohan and of Theoden, your king." Boromir firmly nodded to Eomer as if to verify his companions identities and intent. The looks the Fellowship was receiving was similar to the one they, with the exception of Gandalf, gave the Mane Six at their first introduction. "By your leave, milord?" interrupted Eomer's second-in-command. "Of course, Captain Eothain," Eomer politely answered his subordinate and friend. Eothain was slightly older and shorter than Eomer and wore a helmet with a nose-guard visor that covered just his eyes. His straw-coloured hair was of a greater length than the Third Marshal's was. "Like you, milord," Eothain prefaced his argument, "I welcome the Son of the Steward to the Mark as if he were one of the Eorlingas." Eothain then continued, "But with agents of the White Hand everywhere, should we extend the same welcome to his Lordship's companions? May it not be wiser if we first take them into custody for questioning before deciding if we should trust them? Especially as five of them claim to come from a land that I suspect none of us have ever heard of!" A number of the Rohirrim murmured their assent to what Eothain had just said. Rainbow Dash, however, furrowed her brow and growled in response. She might've gained a greater sense of humility ever since she'd met Twilight, and undergone a number of adventures with the rest of their friends, but that had done little to quell the volcanic temper that she possessed, that usually got her into trouble when she acted without thinking. "First off, I really don't appreciate what you're insinuating, buddy," Rainbow Dash pointed out as she addressed Eomer directly. "Second, you'd have a hard time even catching us if we didn't want to cooperate. Third, if we were working for Saruman, do you think we'd tell you anything, even if you questioned us? And fourth, Twilight did battle with Saruman, and just about killed him! Let that sink in before you go questioning our trustworthiness." Aragorn, Boromir, Twilight and Rarity all either sighed, or rolled their eyes in exasperation. The egos of their friends threatened to destroy what chance the Fellowship had of securing aid from Eomer diplomatically. Rather than chastise Rainbow Dash for a second time, Twilight decided to speak to Eomer instead. "Lord Eomer, I deeply apologize for our group's frayed tempers. We've been without rest for going on four straight days now," Twilight politely began. "If you let us explain why we've entered Rohan, you'll see we're no threat to your people or king." Eomer stared at the strange, brightly coloured pony. He agreed with Eothain that the Rohirrim ought to be suspicious of any intruders, especially with the growing threat of Isengard. Despite Boromir vouching for his companions, and the fact that Boromir's great integrity was almost legendary, he had told Eomer that he and his companions had just come from Lothlorien. As the Lady who ruled it was supposedly a great wielder of magic, who could tell if she had cast a similar spell on Boromir as Saruman had currently cast on Theoden? On the other hand, the way this 'Twilight' ordered her companions to stand down was the voice of a leader not a spy. Further, she'd apologized for their behavior, and had been nothing but respectful. All of that ultimately culminated with him deciding to give Twilight the benefit of the doubt. For now at least. "I'm afraid Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe, Princess Twilight." Eomer said before regretfully adding, "not even his own kin." "What do you mean, milord?" asked Aragorn. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king, and claimed lordship over these lands," Eomer said plainly. "My eored is part of the twenty hundred that remain loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished." Almost immediately, Eomer's news about Theoden's mind got Rarity thinking about Queen Chrysalis's control over Shining Armor's mind during the Royal Wedding. But rather than point this fact out, the Unicorn more wanted clarity about this new term she'd never heard before. "Eored?" she asked in a whispered tone to Legolas, choosing to focus more on what she could, rather than taking a course of action that might cause a panic.. "It is what the Rohirrim call a company of their cavalry," Legolas similarly answered. Troubled by what Eomer had just said, Boromir spoke up. "What position does your cousin Prince Theodred take on all this?" At Boromir's question, the Fellowship noticed that an awkward silence had come over Eomer and his men. "Theodred was gravely wounded by an orc ambush at the Fords of the Isen," Eomer sadly informed. "I last saw him in Edoras where he was clinging to life. If you want to know the strength of Saruman's sorcery, the king didn't even acknowledge news of his son's injuries when my sister and I told him." "Yours is sorrowful and troubling news, milord," Aragorn stated. Eomer gave Aragorn a nod of appreciation for his sympathetic remark. His voice then hardened as he continued speaking. "The White Wizard is cunning," he said to Aragorn and Boromir. "He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked." Eomer then gave Legolas, Rainbow Dash and Applejack a suspicious glance before adding, "and everywhere his spies slip past our nets." "We are not spies," Aragorn quickly denied to prevent any tempers from flaring. "We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They've taken three of our friends captive." "They are a yellow Pegasus and two Hobbits," Boromir detailed further. "The hobbits would be small," Aragorn explained, taking a small step towards Eomer. "Only children to your eyes." "The yellow Pegasus looks like me, but, you know, more yellow and pink," Rainbow Dash quickly added. "Have you seen any sign of them?" Eomer rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, his near-permanent scowl deepening. Twilight seriously hoped that she was misinterpreting the look of guilt that flashed across his features just now. "We came across the uruk-hai last night." he finally admitted. "They are destroyed, we slaughtered them as ruthlessly as they did our people." The five Ponies went pale, exchanging a glance full of sudden fear. Legolas' words from earlier were ringing through Twilight's head: A red sky in the morning. Blood had indeed been spilled that night. "But there were two hobbits!" Gimli exclaimed. "Did you see two hobbits?" "And Fluttershy?" Applejack asked desperately. Eomer paused, bit his lip and shook his head in sorrow and regret. "We left none alive," he confessed. "We piled the carcasses high and burned them." A slight moan escaped Twilight's lips, hers being the only vocal response that could actually be made out. Everypony else was just too stunned to respond in light of this news. The Third Marshall bowed his head. Somehow, Twilight knew that there was no other gesture he could have made to express his regret. But there was a deep, cold crevice tearing through her heart right then. Fluttershy... the hobbits... They couldn't be gone. It was impossible, the hobbits were always so talkative, so hungry, so... there. And Fluttershy. Never except there ,and then had Twilight considered the potential loss of her friend, one of her best friends. And now she was facing the very real possibility that Fluttershy could be dead. Fluttershy was a constant, a rock that helped keep them all together whenever she and the rest of her friends had disputes with each other. Always there to provide the group comfort, even in the darkest of times, much like Pinkie but in her own right. she and the rest of her friends had always survived obstacles together and alive, didn't they? Their accomplishments were proof of that! But still, even she knew that eventually their luck would have to run out. The more adventures they went on, the better their odds become of one of them not coming back at some point. What if this was that time? Twilight glanced at Rainbow Dash, who was still more or less petrified, her eyes were glassy and empty. She didn't think she'd ever seen her so devoid of emotion and life. Touching her fore hoof gently, she tried to catch her gaze, but when Rainbow Dash looked down at her all she saw was shock. She sighed gently. Good. That meant the pain hadn't settled in yet. Better grieve once they were sure that their companions were indeed gone, and not suffer needlessly. A voice in her head was screaming at her to turn around and face it: Fluttershy and the hobbits were gone, they were dead. Why curse herself with pointless hope when she knew that in all probability, Fluttershy and the hobbits were out there, lifeless, surrounded by stinking, charred uruk corpses? Eomer was talking again. He held the reins of a horse in his hand, and besides him three other Rohirrim came up, each guiding a mount. "These are Hasufel, Arod, Laeto and Brindel. May these horses bear you to your friends, be they dead or alive, and bring you better fortune than their former masters." The Rohirrim handed a set of reins to Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Boromir. This entire time, Twilight had been too preoccupied by trying to keep the peace between their two groups, to actually study the horses. How powerfully built these soldiers were, how tall they sat on their horses. She heaved a deep breath, and barely heard Eomer as he bid them farewell. The leader of the Rohirrim mounted his own horse and swerved it around effortlessly to face the nine hunters once more. "Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope." He kicked his mount forward. "It has forsaken these lands." He turned and addressed his company. "We ride North!" Eomer shouted, kick-starting his horse, and galloping at the head of his company, the horsetail streaming from his golden-crested helmet. The remains of Fellowship Team Alpha watched in silence as the Rohirrim rode away on the plains they had just run across. Surprisingly, Rainbow Dash was the first to move. All signs of petrified shock had left her, and she began walking towards the rising smoke that was the Uruk camp. She was thinner than she had been when they left Rivendell, and the strain of the marathon-esque journey since Amon-Hen showed in the lines around her eyes, but her gaze was piercing now, alight with the steely flames of determination, and her movements were just as strong and brusque as they had been during this quest. Her gaze bore at her companions as she turned to look at them, some of whom were looking at her in wonder, well, Twilight, Applejack, Pinkie Pie and Rarity were. Legolas just seemed mildly impressed, for an elf. "YOU!" The yell had been so sudden and so fierce, it had first been assumed that Twilight had delivered it herself. But it had actually been Rainbow Dash who delivered it, with enough force that it caused several of them to jump at being addressed. "Get on those mounts, NOW! Fluttershy and the others aren't dead, until we actually find their charred bones in that pile! Move out, or I'm gonna leave you behind! If I have to, I'm gonna tear through all those corpses by myself until I find out the truth!" With that said, Rainbow Dash unfurled her wings and took off, not even bothering to wait for a response. "... Good gracious!" Rarity stated once she found her voice again. "I understand why she's upset, but I don't believe I've ever seen Rainbow Dash so ferocious before." "I have," Pinkie replied, "once. It was one of the scariest things I've ever seen before in my life." "I don't think her being alone right now is a good idea," Twilight muttered, before addressing the rest of them. "I'll go on ahead after her. The rest of you... well you'd best follow so we're all on the same page of knowing what's going on. Applejack, you're in charge in my absence." With that said she quickly departed much like Rainbow Dash had, first extending her wings fully, before encasing herself in magic, and levitating herself in the direction her friend had gone. "Huh. Didn' see that comin'," Applejack muttered, before deciding to address the rest of the present group. "Well. Ya heard Twilight. Let's get movin' an'... find out what' happened last night..." Aragorn merely looked at the ponies with his silvery gaze in response. Despite their limited interaction with one another, there were times when Applejack thought those eyes were far too old and wise to belong to the ranger. He was only, what, forty? Forty-five maybe, going by what little she knew? But sometimes he would come up with something to say, or look at Merry or Pippin in such a manner that seemed to say "I've lived so long that I've forgotten what it's like to think and act young." This was one of those times. The ranger locked gazes with them for a few seconds each, and the ponies saw that he considered this sudden development in their quest as something of a fool's errand. Not that he would begrudge them the final stages of their search for their loved one, but it was clear in his wise old eyes that to him, hope was simply in vain. Legolas noticed his friend's sadness, and bracingly grasped his shoulder. "Do not let your heart give in to despair yet, Estel," he told him in Sindarin. "The Valar have their ways, and it may be they have a few surprises for us the rest of the way. We must not grieve before we know for sure." Aragorn sighed. "Ai, mellon-nin. It is so long since I have felt this... this despair. What can I do if I cannot keep my small company safe? Heir of Isildur I may be, but I have now failed twice: I failed to stay at Frodo's side till the end, and I could not keep what remained of our fellowship together. Tell me, Legolas, what hope is there when we are told that our captured friends have either been abused of by their uruk abductors, or slaughtered by mistake by our potential allies?" Legolas clasped Aragorn's arm. It was an ancient gesture; one that his kin used in the ancient and splendid days of Doriath, and still used to this day. It was a gesture of friendship, support and good faith. "I see the hope that is before me," he answered. "The Eldar did not name you Hope for nothing, Estel. Elrond has the gift of foresight, and saw great things for you. You know this." "But at what cost?" the ranger said, shaking his head. "Hope I am called, but even as I walk this land, its people are saying Hope is gone. Eomer himself said it had forsaken his country." The elf smiled. "Ah, what is this?" he teased. "It could not be self-pity, surely? I thought the Dunedain were above such things, my friend. Or mayhaps it is guilt. You must be feeling guilty because you were not there to guide and protect Frodo on his quest. Or that you were not available to jump on the uruk leader's ugly armor, and snatch our friends back. Or even that you cannot sprout wings and have us fly to their rescue in time." Aragorn scowled and Legolas laughed. "Why are ellyn so annoying?" "Why are Dunedain so dour?" the elf retorted. "Because we do not have the elvish propensity to make a joke or song of everything." "That is indeed a shame. If you did, maybe the people of Eriador and Arnor would talk to you instead of about you." They bickered for another few minutes as Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Boromir mounted their respective horses, while Applejack and the others took up their own positions, ready to follow on along. Wordlessly, for now that the banter had died down, and they all increasingly felt the writhing of anxiety, excitement and volatile hope in the pit of their stomachs, the nine companions head north and cantered towards what could either be the deepest grief, or the greatest of reliefs. Fluttershy screamed. The tree was moving! And it had eyes. Big, yellow, blinking eyes. The tree gave a huge groan that sounded like something between a sigh, and a huff of exasperation. Merry was frozen in shock, which thankfully meant that his grip on his branch was sufficiently vice-like to keep him steady. Pippin, however, was not so lucky. The hobbit whimpered, tripped backwards and yelled as he tumbled freely towards the very hard and very low down ground. His cry was cut off as the tree suddenly lunged and caught him, then shifted entirely and somehow managed to uproot an entire limb - his equivalent of a leg - and squashed the body of the orc into mash before Fluttershy could so much as let out a single squeak. The petrified Fluttershy managed a small shriek as the tree swooped down and easily plucked her from the ground, shifting them all so that he ended up with the two hobbits in one leafy hand, and her in the other. Fluttershy was squashed uncomfortably by the tough-as-steel branches, and she gasped in both pain and growing alarm. The branches encircling her constricted even her breathing space, but the hobbits had it much worse; the tree was glowering at them as though they were the orcs, not the slimy, gooey mass of blue-gray flesh that now littered the forest ground. His glare was so ferocious - even for a tree - that Fluttershy simply couldn't help but speak up. "Uh, Mister Tree... Lord, erm...Plant. Please, we don't mean you any harm. That orc was chasing us, we just thought... Um, look, please don't hurt us!" Not the most eloquent plea she'd ever made in her life, but then this was a tree she was talking to. The tree's owlish eyes turned to Fluttershy, blinking slowly, then creased into what was quite recognizably a frown. "Burraroom-arrumh." he growled, and for a moment Fluttershy was worried they weren't speaking the same language. "Little Orc," it finally said, in a voice that was as deep as the roots of his kin, the sort that didn't actually move. Something about the way he formed his words sounded as though he hadn't spoken for a long, long time, and she had a feeling this was one heck of an old tree; possibly even older than Princess Celestia herself. "I have never seen the likes of some of you before, but nothing good ever comes along with orcs." His wording was slow, and the pauses between each of the words would, had she been with the captured group, have driven Rainbow Dash nearly insane with impatience, and insistence that the tree get to the point it was trying to make. Fluttershy's eyes glistened slightly with tears at the implied insult, but Merry looked like Hearth's Warming had come early. Pippin's eyes were nearly as wide as their new captor's. "It's talking," he stuttered, "the tree is talking, Merry." "Tree?! I am no tree!" the not-tree rumbled. "I am an Ent." "But you look like a tree," Fluttershy mumbled squeakily, still in shock. Merry's expression of excitement intensified even further. "You're a tree-herder," he realized, "a shepherd of the forest!" Fluttershy couldn't help but be confused by this statement. Did trees in Middle-Earth differ from trees in Equestria by actually needing to be herded like animals? She never got the chance to ask, however, as Pippin was speaking above her. "Don't talk to it," he whispered loudly, glancing in the direction of the Pegasus. "Don't encourage it!" The tree - no, the Ent - ignored his comment, and rumbled in confirmation to Merry's assumption. "My people are as ancient as they are necessary to the forest," he burrarrummed, starting to walk deeper into the trees, sending alerts of panic in his captives' minds. "We herd and protect the trees, and we help them to grow. Such has been our duty for hundreds of thousands of years." He scowled down at the three alarmed captives in his hands. "And now, in a time when war is broiling and the forest is suffering more every day, three creatures and an orc come running into my forest. They come with fire, they come with axes and iron, burning, cutting, and hacking it down as they go. Sounds like orc mischief to me!" He started to squeeze them tighter, hitching their breath and digging into their ribs. Fluttershy paled and wriggled desperately to loosen the Ent's grip on her, hissing in pain as a few bones threatened to crack a little. Merry, fortunately, came to their rescue quickly. "We're not orcs!" he shouted, his voice strained from the lack of air, "we're hobbits. Well, she's not - she's a pony. Mare. Pegasus. From the land of Equestria." The Ent burrarrummed again, then heaved his huge boulder-shoulders in a shrug, before turning his attention towards Fluttershy, and looking over her closely. Even going to far as to loosen his hold on her to better study her. "Pony," the Ent repeated slowly in a burrarrum of a low grumble. "Yes, I know of your kind, daughter of Felaróf," he glanced back at the hobbits, "but I have never heard of a hobbit before." He peered closer at them, and his eyes suddenly glowed even more fiercely. He tightened his grip. "Which is why it is hard to believe you are telling the truth," he rumbled, "Are you sure you are not orcs?" That sounded like a rather silly question to Fluttershy, but the pain on the hobbits' faces was enough to convince her that it was sufficient to extract the whole truth - which they had, admittedly, only told so far. "Yes! We're hobbits, I tell you! Halfings! Shirefolk!" Merry gasped out. "We like smoking... good food... and plants! We like trees! The Shire is full of trees!" Pippin shouted, his voice contorted in pain and his face beginning to redden alarmingly. The Ent's mossy eyebrows creased further into a scowl. "Only dwarves are as small as you," he thundered, "and they do not care for the forest, or my kin. They only delve deeper in their caves, seeking riches, cold and hard as they are, while the world ages and suffers. You are lying, little one." He squeezed harder, and Fluttershy couldn't stand to watch it anymore. "Stop it!" she screamed, "they're telling the truth! They're hobbits, and they live in the Shire. It's a place so far away it's no wonder you haven't heard of it." She gasped and tried to get her breath back. Luckily, the Ent's surprise at her outburst had loosened his grip a little along her midriff. "I stayed with them for a long time, and they are the kindest people I've ever met. Let them go! Please!" The Ent stayed silent, though for some reason his brow was furrowed in what looked like concentration more than anger. But ultimately the Ent simply ignored her, focusing instead on her friends. Fluttershy couldn't believe it. She was going to die. Not at the hands of the orcs or the uruk-hai, but at the rather larger and infinitely stronger hands of a walking, talking, thinking tree! A part of her quailed in fear at the idea of dying, but another part of her cringed at the ridiculousness of it all. Twilight had told them all about how heroes didn't always get to experience noble deaths or happy endings. She had told them that being a hero sometimes required suffering a great deal so that others could have their own happy endings. But a part of her had always believed that anyone who would put their lives on the line for the sake of others deserved to experience a happy ending of their own. Or at the very least, die in a noble fashion. But fate seemed to be conspiring to rob her of either option under these circumstances. Worse than that, Merry and Pippin were going to die along with her. They had stayed alive all this time, just for them to meet their end now? Under these circumstances? Something inside of her snapped; something that wasn't a bone either. This turn of events wasn't acceptable. It wasn't acceptable at all! She had to do something about that! She grit her teeth and twisted a bit further back in a desperate attempt to loosen the pressure on her wings. She was already having trouble fighting off the panicky, primitive instincts that urged her to fight teeth and hooves to get free. Besides, that would only have attracted the Ent's attention, then his inevitable wrath if she accidentally, or not, stripped his bark of a few leaves. But the Ent languidly kept his gaze ahead, watching his step as he carried them deeper into the Fangorn forest. "Maybe you are who you say you are, and maybe you aren't." he rumbled in his age-old voice. "But I cannot say for sure. This is something the White Wizard will know." Fluttershy froze whatever struggle she offered, and exchanged horrified glances at the hobbits. If they had all been pale before, they were now white as bed-sheets. Gandalf had nearly died while in that horrible old man's grasp, and they had been captured by the uruk-hai to be brought to him at his command. And now that they had finally escaped the orcs and their comrades, luck - or rather lack thereof - would have it that they should end up his captives anyway! She closed her eyes in dread and sent a silent prayer up to whoever could be listening. If Twilight's lessons ever meant anything, she pleaded for the forces in motion to not let Saruman have them. If heroes ever deserved to experience happy endings, or if good wins in the end, then this couldn't be allowed to happen. They needed to be let go by this Ent. She thought of her animals, she thought of her friends and family back home, she thought of the whole new turns the path of her life would take if somehow, by some miracle, they escaped Saruman. "Oi! It's just our luck, isn't it, Fluttershy?" Pippin asked as he struggled. "Three day. Three days we've been held captive by those smelly orcs! We finally get loose, and what happens? Old Man Willow's cousin catches us! That's what!" The Ent suddenly came to a lurching halt, forcing Fluttershy's eyes to fly open in the process. "You would dare to compare me to the likes of Old Man Willow?" the Ent asked, his voice sounding genuinely offended at the comparison being made. "Am I wrong? Tell me I'm wrong," Pippin retorted as he continued struggling once again. "Oh, where's Tom Bombadil when we really need him?" "You know of Tom Bombadil?" Fluttershy was never an expert at reading other ponies, or really anything else other than animals for that matter. But if she had to guess at the sudden change in demeanor, the Ent was now regarding them with curiosity after hearing the name of their friend. Now seemed like a very good time to move, and she quickly nodded in confirmation. "Oh, yes! Yes we do! Both he and his wife, Goldberry! He saved us from Old Man Willow when he tried to suffocate us!" she quickly squeaked out. Merry was quick to add to the chorus of statements. "We stayed with them at their home afterward!" For a long time the Ent remained silent, other than an occasional, muffled burrarrum, and the rustling of its leaves in the wind. "Well now," the Ent muttered slowly, "this is certainly a development that was not anticipated." At seeing the Ent's current confused state, Fluttershy quickly proceeded with the verbal assault on the situation. "Mr. Bombadil wouldn't help us if we were orcs, would he?" Yet again, the Ent muttered a burrarrum in thought. "I... do not know," it finally stated. "I do not believe so, but I cannot say for certain. We will ask the White Wizard, and see what he has to say on the matter. Even as we speak, he awaits us now." "The White Wizard does not await, for he is here now!" All eyes looked up immediately at the sound of the voice. At hearing it, the Ent opened his hands, sending all three companions tumbling to the leafy forest ground. They landed with a thud, too scared, horrified, or outright confused to even grunt at the impact. Fluttershy raised her head, and for the second time in fifteen minutes found herself speechless with shock, figuring that either the world of Middle-Earth was a much crueler place than everyone thought, or she had gone completely mad. What she saw before her... there was just no way it could be possible! "It cannot be," Merry breathed. "My young friend. You look as if you have just seen a ghost." That had done it. Without even thinking about her actions, Fluttershy had broke into a flying tackle, all but plowing into the one greeting them, and throwing her forelegs around them as she proceeded to weep openly, unable to keep her composure any longer. Gandalf was back. He was back, and alive, and standing right before them, as if he'd never been gone to begin with. "But... but I saw you fall!" Pippin stated, barely able to keep himself together. Right now the only reason he hadn't thrown himself against Gandalf, was the fact that Fluttershy had beaten him to it, and there was currently no room for him to do the same. "I did," Gandalf admitted, although he found it necessary to speak louder to be heard over Fluttershy's currently hysterical state. "I fell. Through fire. And water. But it was not my time to be. I was sent back into the world once again, to finish what is currently in motion. There is much left that must be done before I am to die." "Gandalf," the Ent rumbled slowly, "these claim to be hobbits. But I have never heard of hobbits before. Is this orc trickery that they engage in?" Gandalf shook his head in response. "These three are as far removed from orcs, as you are from cave trolls, Treebeard," he stated. "I am pleased to say that these three are my friends; and a better bunch could not be asked for, in all of Middle Earth." At hearing this, neither Merry nor Pippin could suppress the smile that graced their faces. That was high praise indeed. "And it is for that very reason that I must, regrettably, say that we must depart from one another now," Gandalf stated. The statement served as enough to put a -temporary- stop to Fluttershy's bawling, as she looked up at him in disbelief. They'd just reunited, and now they were going away again? Why?! "What? But why?" Pippin asked, echoing the question that Fluttershy hadn't been able to. "The matter is a complicated one, I am afraid. Even as we speak, the others are making their way towards our location, intent on reuniting with you," Gandalf stated. "Wonderful news!" Merry cheered. Gandalf nodded solemnly. "Under different circumstances, you would be right. But our circumstances are not so generous, I fear. You four are needed for a task of great importance elsewhere, far away from here. As much as I would love to allow you all to reunite once again, it is simply not possible; time is of the essence in this matter. You must depart immediately," he explained, before turning his attention upwards to Treebeard. "My old friend, could you see fit to taking these three to meet with the rest of your Ent brethren?" "If that is what you wish, Gandalf," Treebeard rumbled in response. "It is more than what I wish. It is what needs to be done," Gandalf replied, before addressing the others again. "Sadly I cannot join you on your journey. Just as you are needed elsewhere, I am needed here. Those that have not gone on ahead to Mordor will be coming through here by morning in search of you. They must be made aware of your well being, so that they are able to tend to a task of their own, that is also of great importance. And they will need all of their strength, if they are to succeed in what lays before them..." Night fell over Emyn Muil. The travelers slept quietly, unaware of a dark, lanky, smelly shape, looming over them as it made it way over the cliff above them. Above their camp, the entity best known as Gollum, loomed over them like an ominous dark shadow, and was currently making his way down towards them with intentions that were anything but pure or benevolent. "They're thieves," he muttered and hissed through broken teeth, "they're thieves! The filthy, little thieves! Where is it? Where isss it? They stole it from us... my preciousss..." Gollum slunk about, creeping along like a spider as he made his way toward their position, climbing down the facing of the cliff and onto the ground. "Curse them! We hates them! It's ours, it is... and we wantssss it!" he hissed as he climbed atop a rock, making his way closer to them. He hadn't tracked them all this way for nothing, going through all the effort of locating them after they'd slipped away. He would have what was his, and then he would- Gollum found his scattered thoughts broken as the rock he was currently atop suddenly shifted and moved, throwing him to the ground face first. What Gollum hadn't accounted on, was the rock he was standing on not actually being a rock, but rather Spike making use of the camouflaging magic of his elven cloak to blend in with the surrounding territory, and allowing him to get into the perfect position for launching an ambush. "Got ya, Stinky!" Spike yelled as he clung to Gollum's legs to keep him pinned down. What Spike hadn't accounted on, was just how strong Gollum really was! Despite being so skinny, he was really hard to hold onto! By now Frodo and Sam had leapt into action, demonstrating that they hadn't been asleep to begin with, each of them grabbing onto one of Gollum's arms in an effort to help Spike keep him down. The scene quickly devolved into one of chaos and violence as the three members of the Fellowship struggled to deal with Gollum, who was proving to be no pushover in his own right. Despite having the advantage of surprise, it was no cake walk. Fists were swung, punches were thrown, kicks were landed, weapons were scrambled for by their rightful owners -and unrightful users- and there was much biting to be had; mostly but not exclusively on the part of Gollum. Spike had fared better than Sam and Frodo in that respect, as his scales proved to be pretty much impervious to such an assault, although it had still hurt. He had been all too willing to return the favor, much to Gollum's displeasure as he had much greater biting strength at his disposal, what with being able to chew through diamonds as easily as candy. Exactly how long the fight went on was anyone's guess. However it reached the boiling point when Gollum had managed to latch onto Sam from behind, getting him in a death grip with his hands around his throat, and was clearly intent on choking the hobbit out. Frodo was the first to react, but Spike had been faster when it came to moving. Grabbing the first available weapon at hand, he swung forward what turned out to be Frodo's sword, aimed right for Gollum's scrawny neck. As soon as the blade had been seen, the proverbial wind had been taken right out of their opponent's sails, and leaving him looking like he'd just seen a ghost. Immediately he seized up, his hold on Sam's throat relaxing significantly. "Let him go!" Spike barked in the most threatening manner he could muster. "Don't think I won't do it! I've had to kill orcs and goblins to protect my friends, what's one more? Let Sam go, or I'll cut your head off without even thinking about it!" Frodo, sensing that Spike might not be in the best state for such a negotiation, carefully plucked his sword back out of his hand, in order to assume the negotiations for Sam's release on his own. "This sword is called Sting," he stated matter of factly. "You've seen it before, haven't you, Gollum? You faced it when you tried to kill my uncle Bilbo!" Gollum could do little more than whimper as he relinquished Sam, and began to wail. Spike ignored the wailing in favor of checking on their companion. "You alright, Sam?" "Ha... better than I could've been, I suppose," Sam replied as he rubbed as his neck. "The little bugger bites hard though!" "True, but I bit him harder," Spike pointed out and grinned mischievously. "I think we should tie him up so he doesn't get loose. Do we still have that rope?" "We should. Let me check," Sam replied and went to search the contents of his pack. Why Lady Galadriel had supplied them with rope, he didn't really know at the time, nor has he questioned it the decision. But if it would come in handy now, then all the better. With Sam looking for the rope, Spike decided that it might be best to check on their "guest" and get a few points straightened out. Once they got him to stop wailing and howling, that is. "Hey!" he yelled, following up with a smack to Gollum's forehead, instantly bringing his attention back to them. "Now listen up. Let's get a few things sorted out here." Gollum gave a disgusted growl that sounded like a dismissive snort. "We nots listen to filthy, thieving hobbits, and stupid purple lizard," he hissed. Spike frowned in response. "A lizard? Seriously?" he asked. "I'm no lizard, I'm a dragon!" "Dr... dragon?" Gollum asked, his scratchy voice practically a squeak at hearing this. "That's right, a dragon! Just like the mighty Smaug from centuries ago!" Spike stated, his voice growing louder as he spoke. "Smaug?" Gollum asked, his voice even more of a squeak that before. "That's right, Smaug! And you know what? He was my grandfather, so listen up!" Spike bellowed, deciding to run with the lie for all it was worth. Sam found it necessary to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. Having been friends with Frodo, he had heard many of Bilbo's tales of adventure, including the tales of Smaug. The idea of someone as nice as Spike being related to such a foul beast, was just too ridiculous to believe. But so help him he was selling the story for all it was worth! And if Spike kept it up, he knew that he was going to lose it, and ruin the whole thing. Even as he hunted for the rope, his shoulders were quaking with barely restrained amusement. Even Frodo, despite his burden, was having a hard time remaining serious at this point. "Let's get a few things straight. The only reason you're even alive right now, is because I decided it. That's means I own you," Spike growled. "That means you work for me, which means you work for the hobbits, too! Am I understood!?" Fearful, Gollum quickly nodded his head in understanding, all the while flinching away. "Good. Now then, you were in Mordor. You being here means you got out of Mordor. If you know how to sneak out, that means you know how to sneak back in. You're going to show us how we get into Mordor. Otherwise..." Spike paused and turned his focus onto a nearby rock, before exhaling a jet of green flames. Despite the contact with the stone being only for several seconds, it had been enough to heat it up to the point it was glowing with a cherry red color, and radiating a great deal of heat. "Any questions?" he asked as he turned his attention back to Gollum. Although his tone did much to convey the point that the question was entirely rhetorical, and more akin to an order than it was anything else. Gollum quickly shook his head in response, not daring to argue otherwise. The mirth that Sam had experienced just moments ago quickly faded at the demonstration. He had thought Twilight was intimidating when she went about assuming charge of a situation, and radiating a commanding presence and whatnot. But Spike was something else in his own right. "Very good. Now then, I just have one other question I wanna get settled for the time being," Spike replied. "How in the heck did you get across the chasm in Moria after the bridge was destroyed?"