The Fellowship: Part VII
by Kris

Frodo walked behind the elf, Legolas, thinking about the situation that he was in. And not only him, but his friends, as well. When Gandalf had explained about the One Ring, and what Frodo must do to keep it safe, the hobbit had been ready to do it, although it would mean going alone.

Then, Gandalf had discovered Sam eavesdropping at the window, and his best friend had been given the task of accompanying Frodo on his journey. And, then, he and Sam had stumbled upon Merry and Pippin, two more of his friends, and they had insisted on coming along.

Everything had been going well, until they had gotten to the village of Bree, where they were supposed to meet up with Gandalf at an inn. Upon reaching the inn, and finding no Gandalf, the four of them hadn't known what to do. One thing had led to another, and Frodo had ended up with the ring on his finger. What an experience *that* had been.

That was how they had met Aragorn, or Strider, as he had been calling himself. Any doubts that the Ranger was one of the enemy, were erased when he saved them from being killed by the Nazgul, the Ringwraiths. The Black Riders the hobbits had seen on the way to Bree.

From Bree, Aragorn had taken Frodo and his friends to a place called the Weathertop, and it was there, that the Nazgul had found them, and Frodo had been forced to use the ring. Not that it had done him any good. One of the Ringwraiths had stabbed him in the shoulder with its sword, with the result of him being poisoned and nearly being turned into a wraith himself.

Frodo most certainly would have died, if Arwen Evenstar hadn't shown up. She was the one who had brought him to the elven-city Rivendell, where the elves had brought him from the land of the Dead, back into the land of the Living.

It was at Rivendell, that had gotten Frodo to where he was at present. He had thought that once he had reached the elf city, his journey would be over. And, for a brief time, it had been. But, at the Council of Elrond, something inside him had compelled Frodo to volunteer to take the One Ring to Mount Doom, deep within the land of Mordor, to see that it was destroyed.

This time, Gandalf had chosen to go with him, as had Aragorn and the elf, Legolas, the human, Boromir, and the dwarf, Gimli. Of course, Frodo should have suspected that Sam might listen in on the council meeting, and Merry and Pippin, too. Even after hearing how dangerous the journey would be, his friends had still volunteered to go with him. No, not volunteered. Demanded was a better word. His friends had stood up to Lord Elrond and had demanded that they were going with.

And, so, the Fellowthip of the Ring had been formed, and they had been joined by Gandalf's friend, Kristiel. And here they were, now, marching over hills and through valleys, towards the mountains, off in the distance.

Frodo had no idea where they were, but knew that Gandalf did, so he wasn't worried about the group getting lost. Looking up at the sky, he saw that it was getting to be late afternoon. They would have to stop soon, and look for a place to camp for the night.

He could hardly wait. He wasn't certain that he could continue on much longer. His feet felt like lead, and his shoulder, where he had been stabbed, ached. He made a mental note to ask Gandalf if he had anything for which to ease the pain in his shoulder.

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