Take the Hidden Paths (1/5)
Title: Take the Hidden Paths
Pairings/characters: Gwen/Morgana, background Aragorn/Arwen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 22,224
Warnings: Canon-compliant character deaths and a brief appearance of a giant spider
Summary: When Gorlois Baggins departed the Shire, he left his daughter Morgana a ring, one he thought was nothing more than a trinket that he’d won from Gollum. When Gandalf discovers it’s the One Ring, Morgana is forced to flee the Shire and head to Rivendell, accompanied by her lover Gwen and her cousins Merlin and Arthur. Together, along with the other members of the Fellowship, they set off on a near-impossible quest to destroy the Ring in the fires of Mount Doom. A Merlin/bookverse LotR fusion in which the OT4 are the hobbits and Nimueh is Saruman.
Author's notes: Knowledge of LotR is not necessary. I chose to use bookverse rather than movieverse simply because I'm more familiar with it. Plus, the changes made to the plot in the movies would have made this story harder to write. Some lines (mainly Gollum’s) and all titles are quoted from LotR.
I wrote this for a kinkme_merlin prompt.
Many, many thanks to go my beta lilith_lessfair and my Britpicker torakowalski. My artist zephre did an absolutely amazing job. The art link goes to the larger version, while a smaller version is embedded at the end of Part 4. Further thanks to my flist for putting up with my complaining, and especially for encouraging me.
Art link: http://zephre.dreamwidth.org/453563.html
Disclaimer: I own neither Merlin nor The Lord of the Rings.
Prologue
When Mister Gorlois Baggins and his daughter Morgana announced that they would be celebrating his eleventy-first and her thirty-third birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and speculation in Hobbiton. Gwen thought most of it was pure nonsense, of course, but that's because she actually worked for the Bagginses, and knew exactly what went on behind the scenes. Furthermore, she had to deal with much of the party business alongside her regular duties as apprentice gardener (to her father, of course) and occasional (well, not occasional) help to Morgana.
It wasn't that she minded the Party itself-- after all, Morgana was legally becoming an adult-- but it just meant more work for her father and her. So she planted flowers, organized the presents to be given to the invitees (all of the locals and plenty others besides), and numerous other tasks that the Bagginses required. But she still treasured the time she spent with Morgana, helping her decide what to wear, and helping her sew the final touches on the dress. No, gown, Gwen decided one evening, after it had been completed. Morgana wouldn't wear anything as ordinary as a dress on the day of her coming of age. It was a gorgeous red gown, almost scandalous in cut, leaving her shoulders bare. She even had a string of matching beads to wear in her hair!
Gwen couldn't help but be a bit jealous. She was only wearing her best dress, one she'd worn plenty of times before. But Morgana's family had money-- left over from Mister Gorlois' adventure years before he'd married and had a daughter. It was a pity that Morgana's mother had drowned in the river when the small family had been visiting their Brandybuck relations over two decades ago, when Morgana was just seven. So Gwen decided that Gorlois had gone all out for his daughter, because her mother wasn't there. A dress couldn't make up for it, but maybe it would help Morgana focus on the day, not the past.
But Gwen couldn't hide her grin when she thought of taking it off Morgana.
The day of the Party dawned, the clouds of the previous day having disappeared. The tents had been set up days beforehand, the food was being prepared, and people were flocking to the field. Gwen has woken early, to help Morgana dress. Not that she couldn't do it on her own, but she wanted Gwen with her at first, because both of them knew it was the only quiet time they'd have together today, until late in the night.
Gorlois had welcomed her in and he'd immediately sat her down for a quick second breakfast before he scurried off to finish the last minute tasks, namely keeping the wizard Gandalf out of trouble. She really was looking forward to his fireworks, no matter what the rest of the Shire whispered about the trouble he brought in his wake. She'd agreed to meet Rosie at dusk so they could watch them together. She hoped Rosie wouldn't be too frightened, but didn't expect to be herself. After all, she'd grown up on the stories Gorlois had told his daughter and her. Elves, and dragons, and trolls-- it was all so magical. Not magical like Merlin, Morgana's cousin and their friend, was magical (his strange gift seemed mainly useful for causing things near him to move and unfortunately causing others to fear him as he'd been unable to hide it while growing up), but magical in a deeper sense, especially the Elves. There was just something about them… She hoped, in the deepest part of her heart, that she'd be able to meet one-- just one-- someday. But she hadn't told anyone about her dream, especially not her father. He didn't quite approve of Gorlois and Morgana teaching her about Outside the Shire. So she pretended that Outside didn't entrance her as badly as her father feared.
Neither her father nor she were at the smaller feast when Gorlois disappeared in a flash of light. But they certainly heard about it the next day, Gwen from Morgana herself. (They had been too busy celebrating the previous night for them to talk properly.) It was enough to counteract the rumors her father heard, and half-believed. Gandalf apparently had left soon after-- or when, no one was quite sure-- after Gorlois vanished. So Morgana was left in Bag End all by herself, not that she seemed too unduly concerned. After all, she had helped her father pack and knew he was planning on visiting friends Outside he hadn't seen for years. That much, she had told Gwen.
Unfortunately, Morgana's dreams-- nightmares-- grew worse as time passed, so Gwen took to sleeping over, or returning home late, finally moving in the week after Gwen herself turned thirty-three, less than a year after the Party. It was understandable of course, with the growing fear her father could die Outside, but neither did Morgana let it stop her from doing what she wanted. But they kept their relationship secret.
It was two years after the Party before they discovered the truth.
Part 1: One Ring to Rule Them All
Morgana grumbled as she stood up from her comfortable seat near the fire. Gwen looked up from her book. “Stay there, Gwen. It's probably no one important.”
She nodded, but didn't resume her reading. Morgana walked out of the room and opened the front door to find Gandalf on the other side. She grinned. “What are you doing here? You normally don't return so soon. It's only been two years since the Party!”
“I needed to see you.” He glanced around and then lowered his voice. “I think we had best move inside.”
Morgana's grin dropped off her face as she moved aside. She locked the door behind him and followed him to the study. He sat down in front of the fire, warming his hands. It was still early enough in the year that nights were nippy. He peered over his shoulder at Gwen. “And how are you doing?”
“I live here now. It's better that way.”
Gandalf's eyebrows rose. “I thought Tom wanted you to live at home rather than in your employer's house.”
Gwen looked steadily at the wizard. “She's my lover.”
Morgana smiled, surprised that Gwen had been so open about it with him. But then, only their friends Merlin and Arthur knew and were completely accepting. Tom turned a blind eye. The rest of the Shire… Well, they'd be ostracized at best. Maybe she was finally starting to see Morgana's point about not hiding. And if the wizard had a problem, then it could destroy everything.
“Ah. Then you will need to hear the discussion I will have with Morgana in the morning.”
“Why not now?” Morgana asked. “We're here and awake.”
“Because there are some things it is better to discuss in daylight. And I dare say that neither of you would get much sleep if we talked now. Now, how long have you been in a relationship?”
“Since our twenties,” Morgana answered. “Though she moved in only after her coming of age last year.”
“We didn't need more gossip than what occurred. Half the Shire suspects, I think,” Gwen said. “But we won't confirm anything. I have my own bedroom here. I like it, because it's a space of my own.”
“And we have fought.”
“Of course you have! I don't know anyone in a solid relationship who hasn't. But the Shire as a whole doesn't approve of couples like you," Gandalf said.
“No,” Gwen said. “I don't understand why. What's wrong with loving someone?”
“Absolutely nothing, my dear. Most of the Elves feel the same way you do.”
Gwen lit up. Morgana leaned back in her chair and smiled. Gwen always loved anything to do with Elves. And to hear Gandalf say that, maybe it would cause her to finally start overcoming the last vestiges of shame.
Two hours later, Gandalf excused himself and went into the bedroom they'd kept for any Big People who visited. (Not that it happened often. Gandalf was the only one who used the room since Father had left.) Morgana left Gwen staring at the flames. She was tired enough that she hoped she wouldn't dream tonight. She was getting bloody sick of the fire-mountain standing in the middle of a barren plain, with a tall, dark tower visible in the background.
The next morning, after eating a hearty breakfast Gwen cooked, the three of them settled themselves in the study, with a small fire burning in the hearth. Gandalf closed the window. “We must not be overheard. Too much resides in keeping our doings here secret.”
“Secret from whom?”
“Sauron, the Dark Lord residing in Mordor who desires nothing less than to control the world.”
Gwen gasped, but Morgana simply nodded. “I feared that was so. My dreams of late have been filled with a mountain on fire.”
“Mount Doom, most like. Is there anything else to them?”
“No. But I'd heard rumors from the Dwarves and other people crossing the Shire. Terrible things are coming, to the point where Elves are fleeing, sailing to Elvenhome across the water.”
“So you do know something. So this won't come as a complete shock.” He pursed his lips. “What do you remember about Gorlois' ring?”
“How he won it from a creature named Gollum in a riddle game, that it can turn the wearer invisible. He never thought it was more than a trinket. Though he did say it could slip off unexpectedly, so I've always kept it on a chain around my neck.”
“That's the only way you've worn it?”
Morgana looked startled. “Yes. I haven't seen any need to turn myself invisible. It's bad enough I'm friends with Merlin. If anyone had seen, I really would be ostracized, not looked askance at.”
“Ah, Merlin…” Gandalf looked thoughtful and a little worried. “His gift may yet come in handy, no matter what the rest of the Shire thinks. Now, may I see the ring?”
Morgana immediately lifted the chain from around her neck and handed it to him. Gandalf undid the clasp, slid the ring off it, and returned the chain to her. The ring, strangely for something so small, loomed in the wizard's hand. “I fear this ring is more than a trinket. In fact, I am sure that it is not. Morgana, have you ever wondered why your father never really seemed to age?”
“I assumed it was good blood. There are long-lived ancestors--”
“I know, which was why I was unconcerned at first. But now I have come to the conclusion that this is one of the Great Rings of Power, and that is a much graver matter. A mortal holder of one of them doesn't age, but merely exist. And if often used to become invisible, the holder fades into the shadow.”
“Father--”
“Do not worry about him. He no longer is the bearer.”
“I am.” Gwen reached over and held her hand. “So what must I do?”
“Nothing, yet. There is one last test I need to make.” With that, he tossed the ring into the fire. After waiting a brief time, Gandalf used the tongs to pick it up. “Morgana, hold out your hand. It won't burn you.”
He dropped it into her outstretched palm. Her mouth opened when she felt the cool ring touch her hand. She peered at it, and frowned when she saw writing appear.
“I can't read it,” Morgana said quietly. “But it looks Elvish.”
“The letters are,” Gandalf said, “but the language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here. It says simply, 'One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.' It is part of a verse known for over an Age by the Elves. I believe it was written and engraved upon the Ring by Sauron himself.
“This is the One Ring, the Master Ring that controls all others. Sauron has been looking for it for many a year, but he has believed it lost until recently. Now that he knows it exists, he has put forth much effort to finding it. On it rests the last hope we have-- for if he does not gain it, we still have a fighting chance of defeating him.”
“I wish that he hadn't returned now,” Gwen said quietly. “How are two hobbits and a wizard supposed to keep it from the Dark Lord?”
“That is what we must discuss. As for his returning, the Shadow always does. No one who lives in such times wishes it had happened to them, but all we are able to do is decide what to do with the time that is given to us. We have a chance, and we must take it.”
“So what must I do,” Morgana asked, threading the Ring back onto the chain.
“You must leave the Shire shortly. Not immediately, but no later than early autumn. Gollum left his caves and made his way to Mordor. He was captured there, and tortured, possibly by Sauron himself once it was revealed what his precious is. Sauron at last has heard of Shire, hobbits, and Baggins. He is likely seeking now.”
Morgana looked over Gwen, who didn't seem to notice how painfully tight she was squeezing her lover's hand, or how she was biting her lip. “I wish Father had killed Gollum. Then this wouldn't have happened. The Ring would still be safe here.”
“It was Pity that stayed his hand, Morgana. Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them?” He paused for a second. “Then do not be so eager to deal out death in judgement. Not even the wise can see all ends. Gollum may yet have some part to play in all this.”
“I rather doubt it,” Morgana said, chastened. But she knew that if faced with the same choice, she would have killed the monster. “Can we destroy the Ring?”
“Try, Morgana. Try to toss it into the fire.”
She tossed the chain-- no, she put it around her neck. She gulped and lifted her head. “How?”
Gandalf sank back into his seat, looking older than Morgana had ever seen him before. Gwen's eyes flickered between their faces. “You are the bearer, Morgana,” he said. “You will find it near impossible to harm it. And your small fire wouldn't even melt ordinary gold. The only place the Ring can be destroyed is Mount Doom, the place it was created.”
“The fire-mountain in my dreams…” she whispered. “If I need to go there to destroy it, I will. Sauron must not gain it. But I wish I wasn't a bearer.”
“So do I,” Gwen said. “But better you than an orc, or a murderer, or Gollum. Gandalf, could you take it?”
“No,” he said. “The temptation to use it would prove too powerful. I am here to help Middle-earth, not to rule it.”
They sat in silence for a little bit. Gwen loosened her hold on Morgana's hand, but they shifted on the sofa so they leaned against each other. “You said I must leave the Shire. I suppose I could stay here, but if I am being searched for, I cannot put everyone around me in danger. So I will leave.”
“And I'll come with you,” Gwen said firmly. “I'm not letting you go alone.”
“Then travel as Miss Underhill. Gwen, I'm afraid you may have to hide as a servant at times.”
“I can do that.”
Gandalf leaned forward. “Make for Rivendell. The Elves are the safest place for you right now, Morgana. And I think Gwen will be happy to see them.”
“I will be,” she said with a small smile on her face. “If we can reach the valley before we're captured.”
“Don't say that,” Morgana said sharply.
“It's the simple truth, Morgana. Two hobbits against the world Outside?”
“Don't forget you have a wizard, Gwen. I will be coming, though I have an errand I must run first. I must gather what news I can. I will return as soon as possible. Remember what I said about leaving no later than early autumn.”
Gwen said hesitantly, “Could others come with us?”
Gandalf blinked. “Just who did you have in mind?”
“Arthur and Merlin. Arthur wouldn't dare let two women travel alone, and, well, you said Merlin's gift could come in handy.”
“So I did. Yes, if you can tell them without letting the whole Shire know. By all means, Morgana, I think you will need their support by the end. It's better to have friends than to deal with this alone.”
* * * * *
Nearly four months later, Morgana had made her plans but Gandalf had yet to return from his news-gathering. Still, she had no choice but to complete the sale of Bag End to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, and to move to Crickhollow. It was fiction that she was moving back permanently to the place her mother had grown up, but it was on the east side of the Shire, which would make leaving it far less noticeable than if she had to travel through the Shire itself instead of slipping over the border. Another friend-- Lancelot Bolger-- would live in the house, trying to preserve the fiction for as long as possible. The travelers' safety depended on it.
After two nights in the country- one glorious one spent with Gildor's company after the Elves' appearance had chased off a servant of Sauron dressed as a rider in black, and they'd promised to send word to other Elves-- Morgana was quite glad to have crossed the Ferry and reached her new house. Lancelot, Merlin, and Arthur greeted them, having prepared the place for them (Morgana hoped that nothing had been broken), shooed the couple into bathtubs (in separate rooms) with a promise of food after, and left them alone. Morgana was just glad to get clean after days spent traveling. She knew it could be quite a while before she had another chance to soak in a tub. After all, Bree was a short distance away, but Rivendell was far beyond Bree with no inns between them. After the water cooled, she pulled on a nightgown and flung a dressing robe over it. She didn't need to be formal with her friends, much less Gwen. Not to her surprise, the other four were eating supper when she came into the kitchen. Thankfully, Gwen had saved her some of the choice portions. Merlin simply shot a cheeky grin at Morgana as he used his magic to steal a roll from her plate.
After everyone was full, Morgana looked at the other four. “We're leaving at dawn, or earlier if possible. Because we need to remain as unnoticeable as possible, we're going to have to go through the Old Forest, for a least a little ways.”
“It's dangerous,” Arthur said. “Even my family doesn't go far into it.”
“A forest versus Riders on the open Road-- I'd prefer the forest,” Gwen said, shuddering. "There's something about them that scares me."
“It'll have to be the Forest,” Merlin said, a distant look in his eyes.
Ignoring the chills Merlin's words and intonation sent up her spine, Morgana said, “Then I'm going to bed. Are you coming, Gwen?"
“In a little bit. I want to talk to Lancelot first.”
Gwen kissed her and went to the sitting room. Morgana went to the large bedroom, and swiftly fell asleep, once again dreaming of Mount Doom.
It didn't take long for them to get ready in the morning. No one had unpacked, and Lancelot had woken up early to load the ponies. The largest part of the preparation was the eating of breakfast. The leftovers, those that could be transported, were packed. Gwen hugged Lancelot farewell, as did Morgana and Merlin. Arthur was more restrained, as usual. The four swiftly rode to the gate leading into the Old Forest. Almost immediately, Morgana saw Merlin shiver, and she felt odd herself. Gwen and Arthur seemed to be affected as well, but not nearly as severely. She rode up to Merlin. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “Something malevolent. It's attempting to draw us in, but I can fight it off. It'll just be hard.”
“Do so,” Arthur ordered. “I think if we keep on this path, we'll end up at the Withywindle, which is the strangest part of the Forest.”
Merlin shot Arthur an annoyed look at being commanded to do something (Arthur usually didn't order the future Thain of the Shire around), stretched out a hand, and the strange feeling faded. Arthur immediately took the lead, picking the way through the tangled roots, as the faint path they'd been following petered out almost immediately. It was slow going, especially in the heat of the day. But they soldiered on. By dusk-- which was early due to the tree cover-- everyone was exhausted, especially Merlin. Once he ate his cold supper, he opened his bedroll and fell right to sleep. Morgana agreed with Arthur that watches should be assigned, and Gwen took the first. Morgana would have the last.
By mid-afternoon the next day, they broke out of the Forest very near to the Road. Merlin slumped in his saddle, tired from using his magic, and they took a brief break, letting him nap a bit. But they couldn't wait too long, and Arthur was as antsy as Morgana about remaining still when their only safety in the wild was their ability to keep moving. So they rode on, not taxing the ponies, but going as fast as they could manage. When they saw the lights of Bree twinkling in the night, Morgana said, “We need to stop. Gwen and I need to change into our dresses. Trousers on women would be too noticeable.”
It was the work of minutes to take their shirts off and pull the dresses on. Neither one of them bothered to clean up further. They'd been traveling, and it showed. Being too clean or pretty would also cause comment. But Morgana rode on with a somewhat lighter heart, knowing there were soft beds and hot food at their destination tonight. From the way Arthur and Merlin bantered and how Gwen chuckled, she knew they were looking forward to it as well.
Two hours later, the four had reached The Prancing Pony, and were settled in a small parlor, eating a large dinner. Merlin kept yawning almost from the moment he sat down, while Arthur looked curious. Gwen simply relaxed, eating a good meal. Morgana poked at her third serving of blackberry tart. She stood up and said, “I'm going to see if our room is ready yet. I think we need an early night.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “You go right ahead. Someone needs to make an appearance in the common room. And it shouldn't be Merlin.”
“Hey!” But he made no other protest, covering yet another yawn with the hand not holding a fork.
Gwen put her napkin on the table and stood up. “I'll come with you, Morgana. Better for you to not walk about alone.”
She nodded and the two of them left. While she waited outside the privy for Gwen to finish her business, Morgana played with the Ring on its chain, sliding it up and down. She heard booted footsteps coming towards her, and spun around. A leering man with heavy black eyebrows peered down at her. “It isn't safe for such a pretty thing to be wandering about alone.”
Morgana snorted, but curled a hand around the Ring. “I have a friend with me.”
“I'm sure you do,” he said, taking a step toward her.
Morgana backed off, but her grip on the Ring slipped, and it ended up on a finger. The man gasped and looked frantically around. “She's a witch!" He stepped backwards and nearly slipped. He cursed and ran back into the inn. Morgana swiftly slipped the Ring off and glared at it. Gandalf was right-- it did seem to have a mind of its own. She smiled at Gwen when the door to the outhouse opened.
“I heard something--”
“It's nothing,” Morgana said, putting her around Gwen's shoulders. “Nothing we need to discuss out here.”
When they reached the parlor, to Morgana's surprise, the innkeeper Butterbur was waiting for her with a letter. He apologized profusely for not sending it on, but left soon after, obviously still bothered. She swiftly opened the letter. “It's from Gandalf!”
Merlin blinked, clearly trying not to fall asleep in his chair. “What's it say?”
“That Gandalf wrote this in midsummer, that we're months late leaving the Shire, and that there's a man called Strider that we should find.”
She folded the letter and placed it on the table. Arthur looked up. “I said I'd go to the common room, and I can ask Butterbur if he's seen him, and to send him here.”
He slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Not more than five minutes later, he stepped into the room, followed by a lanky Man. “Butterbur wasn't happy when I asked. Seems the Rangers aren't much trusted hereabouts,” Arthur said as he sank back into his seat.
Morgana looked up at the tall man. “What's your true name?”
“Aragorn son of Arathorn. Gandalf has been a friend of mine for many years.”
Morgana glanced over at Merlin, who nodded. “He's telling the truth.”
Aragorn stared at him. “How are you able to tell?”
“Dunno. It's something I've always been able to do.”
Aragorn locked the door and pulled over a chair. “I was outside earlier, and saw you disappear, Morgana. Didn't Gandalf warn you not to use the Ring?”
“He did. And it was an accident.”
“I believe you,” he said, holding up his hands. “However, the Ringwraiths-you know them as the Black Riders-- will surely have sensed its use. We will spend the night here. I'm sorry you won't have beds to sleep on, but the rooms in this inn for hobbits are located easily. We'll be safer here.”
Morgana spent a restless night, unable to get truly comfortable. Aragorn appeared to not have slept at all, while the other hobbits weren't bothered by anything. Unfortunately, their plans for a swift departure were ruined when it was discovered the hobbits' ponies-- along with every other beast in the stable-- had been stolen in the night. So the five of them left on foot, carrying as much food as they possibly could. There was no guarantee of any between Bree and Rivendell.
They didn't stay on the road, instead crossing through a forest and a rather disgusting, insect-filled marsh. The sixth day out from Bree found them on Weathertop, the tallest hill in the area. They made a small camp in a dell on the western flank, and Morgana and Arthur followed Aragorn to the top. Morgana took in the vista, smiling a bit. She understood better now what her father had meant when he talked of the stark beauty of the wilderness. Unfortunately, Arthur spotted black shapes moving on the Road, and the three hurried to the dell to prepare. There was no chance that they would not be discovered this night. They could only hope that fire would be enough of a deterrent and weapon. While they gathered and stacked the firewood, as dusk grew on, Morgana caught Merlin looking askance at the wood. On pretense of stacking wood near him, she leaned over and whispered, “Remember, they want to take the Ring back to Sauron. Do what you need to do. No one here will think less of you.”
“It isn't you I'm worried about,” he said quietly, flicking his eyes to Aragorn. “Gandalf may trust him, but we don't know him, not really. There's no telling how he'd react. It doesn't matter Gandalf's a wizard; no one's seen anything like me before and they're afraid.”
He refused to say another word, so Morgana left him alone. She took up her position next to Gwen, who kissed her when she sat down. “We'll be fine,” Gwen said. The way her hands clenched the unlit torch she was holding told Morgana otherwise, but she wasn't going to say anything. They had to hope they would survive.
The battle was joined shortly after the waxing moon rose. When black figures appeared over the rise, Aragorn grabbed flaming branches in each hand and charged up the slope, while Gwen grabbed one, though seemed too afraid to leave Morgana alone. Arthur followed Aragorn's lead, fighting against the chill and fear the Wraiths caused. Merlin simply raised a hand and lit one of the figures on fire. Morgana just stood there, fighting silently, the Ring whispering, cajoling to be worn. But the defense wasn't enough, and Morgana tried to fight the temptation to put on the Ring. She couldn't, and slipped it on her ring finger. Immediately, she saw the Wraiths as haggard, terrible kings. The tallest one sprang forward, evading everyone and coming straight for her. She cried out, “O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!” but a sharp, cold blade stabbed her in the left shoulder. The pain broke through the compulsion to leave the Ring on, and she yanked it off just before collapsing to the ground.
She woke up only a short while later, with the fire raging next to her. Aragorn's face was weary. “You were stabbed with a blade, one specifically meant to bring its victims into the shadow realm, under Sauron's rule. I do not think you will succumb easily, but we must get you to Rivendell as swiftly as possible. I cannot treat the wound more than I already have, and Merlin knows no healing magic. Elrond can do much more.”
They left Weathertop at dawn. They spent days walking through the wilderness, on paths only Aragorn knew about. Morgana stayed silent. She had to trust him, and with her shoulder, she had to fight to continue walking. They returned to the Road to cross the Last Bridge, over the River Hoarwell. To Aragorn's surprise, he found no Riders, and a token-- a green beryl-- that indicated it had been made safe by an Elf. But they couldn't risk staying on the Road, and so returned to the hills north of the Road. Morgana wished otherwise, because the mostly level road made her wounded shoulder easier to bear. Finally, twelve days out from Weathertop, they had no choice but to return to the Road. They could not risk getting lost in the lands north of Rivendell.
Morgana was thankful for that. Her left arm had grown near useless and felt cold almost all the time, even though the small stab wound had healed. Just as they were looking for a place off the Road to camp, Aragorn heard something that sounded like a horse coming upon them. The five of them scrambled off the Road, but Aragorn ran back onto it when a blond Elf on a white horse rode by.
“Mae govannen, Glorfindel!”
The hobbits followed the Man onto the Road and stared at him, Gwen in particular. After Glorfindel examined Morgana's shoulder, he put her on his horse Asfaloth, and they continued traveling through the night. He, too, was of the opinion that time was short. After another day of walking, with only two briefs rests, they camped for the night. Morgana fell into a deep sleep, sore after riding for so long when she wasn't used to it. But that didn't prevent her from climbing back into the saddle the next day. Near the Brúinen River, their luck ran out. Ringwraiths ambushed them, coming at them from behind and both sides. Morgana cued Asfaloth to run, but slowed him as the Wraiths grew closer on their black horses. The Ring… the Ring… But Glorfindel ordered his horse to run, so he did-- straight across the Ford. That revived Morgana from the spell the Wraiths and the Ring were putting on her. She stood defiantly in the stirrups. “By Elbereth and Lúthien the Fair, you shall have neither the Ring nor me!"
The Wraiths laughed and continued calling to her. A loud rushing and grinding noise caught her attention, even through her wavering vision. The river was flooding and the Wraiths were caught in it. She stared as they were swept away by the raging waters and boulders contained in it. Morgana blinked, trying to make her graying sight return to normal, but it did nothing. And she lost her fight to remain conscious.
Part 2
Pairings/characters: Gwen/Morgana, background Aragorn/Arwen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 22,224
Warnings: Canon-compliant character deaths and a brief appearance of a giant spider
Summary: When Gorlois Baggins departed the Shire, he left his daughter Morgana a ring, one he thought was nothing more than a trinket that he’d won from Gollum. When Gandalf discovers it’s the One Ring, Morgana is forced to flee the Shire and head to Rivendell, accompanied by her lover Gwen and her cousins Merlin and Arthur. Together, along with the other members of the Fellowship, they set off on a near-impossible quest to destroy the Ring in the fires of Mount Doom. A Merlin/bookverse LotR fusion in which the OT4 are the hobbits and Nimueh is Saruman.
Author's notes: Knowledge of LotR is not necessary. I chose to use bookverse rather than movieverse simply because I'm more familiar with it. Plus, the changes made to the plot in the movies would have made this story harder to write. Some lines (mainly Gollum’s) and all titles are quoted from LotR.
I wrote this for a kinkme_merlin prompt.
Many, many thanks to go my beta lilith_lessfair and my Britpicker torakowalski. My artist zephre did an absolutely amazing job. The art link goes to the larger version, while a smaller version is embedded at the end of Part 4. Further thanks to my flist for putting up with my complaining, and especially for encouraging me.
Art link: http://zephre.dreamwidth.org/453563.html
Disclaimer: I own neither Merlin nor The Lord of the Rings.
Prologue
When Mister Gorlois Baggins and his daughter Morgana announced that they would be celebrating his eleventy-first and her thirty-third birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and speculation in Hobbiton. Gwen thought most of it was pure nonsense, of course, but that's because she actually worked for the Bagginses, and knew exactly what went on behind the scenes. Furthermore, she had to deal with much of the party business alongside her regular duties as apprentice gardener (to her father, of course) and occasional (well, not occasional) help to Morgana.
It wasn't that she minded the Party itself-- after all, Morgana was legally becoming an adult-- but it just meant more work for her father and her. So she planted flowers, organized the presents to be given to the invitees (all of the locals and plenty others besides), and numerous other tasks that the Bagginses required. But she still treasured the time she spent with Morgana, helping her decide what to wear, and helping her sew the final touches on the dress. No, gown, Gwen decided one evening, after it had been completed. Morgana wouldn't wear anything as ordinary as a dress on the day of her coming of age. It was a gorgeous red gown, almost scandalous in cut, leaving her shoulders bare. She even had a string of matching beads to wear in her hair!
Gwen couldn't help but be a bit jealous. She was only wearing her best dress, one she'd worn plenty of times before. But Morgana's family had money-- left over from Mister Gorlois' adventure years before he'd married and had a daughter. It was a pity that Morgana's mother had drowned in the river when the small family had been visiting their Brandybuck relations over two decades ago, when Morgana was just seven. So Gwen decided that Gorlois had gone all out for his daughter, because her mother wasn't there. A dress couldn't make up for it, but maybe it would help Morgana focus on the day, not the past.
But Gwen couldn't hide her grin when she thought of taking it off Morgana.
The day of the Party dawned, the clouds of the previous day having disappeared. The tents had been set up days beforehand, the food was being prepared, and people were flocking to the field. Gwen has woken early, to help Morgana dress. Not that she couldn't do it on her own, but she wanted Gwen with her at first, because both of them knew it was the only quiet time they'd have together today, until late in the night.
Gorlois had welcomed her in and he'd immediately sat her down for a quick second breakfast before he scurried off to finish the last minute tasks, namely keeping the wizard Gandalf out of trouble. She really was looking forward to his fireworks, no matter what the rest of the Shire whispered about the trouble he brought in his wake. She'd agreed to meet Rosie at dusk so they could watch them together. She hoped Rosie wouldn't be too frightened, but didn't expect to be herself. After all, she'd grown up on the stories Gorlois had told his daughter and her. Elves, and dragons, and trolls-- it was all so magical. Not magical like Merlin, Morgana's cousin and their friend, was magical (his strange gift seemed mainly useful for causing things near him to move and unfortunately causing others to fear him as he'd been unable to hide it while growing up), but magical in a deeper sense, especially the Elves. There was just something about them… She hoped, in the deepest part of her heart, that she'd be able to meet one-- just one-- someday. But she hadn't told anyone about her dream, especially not her father. He didn't quite approve of Gorlois and Morgana teaching her about Outside the Shire. So she pretended that Outside didn't entrance her as badly as her father feared.
Neither her father nor she were at the smaller feast when Gorlois disappeared in a flash of light. But they certainly heard about it the next day, Gwen from Morgana herself. (They had been too busy celebrating the previous night for them to talk properly.) It was enough to counteract the rumors her father heard, and half-believed. Gandalf apparently had left soon after-- or when, no one was quite sure-- after Gorlois vanished. So Morgana was left in Bag End all by herself, not that she seemed too unduly concerned. After all, she had helped her father pack and knew he was planning on visiting friends Outside he hadn't seen for years. That much, she had told Gwen.
Unfortunately, Morgana's dreams-- nightmares-- grew worse as time passed, so Gwen took to sleeping over, or returning home late, finally moving in the week after Gwen herself turned thirty-three, less than a year after the Party. It was understandable of course, with the growing fear her father could die Outside, but neither did Morgana let it stop her from doing what she wanted. But they kept their relationship secret.
It was two years after the Party before they discovered the truth.
Part 1: One Ring to Rule Them All
Morgana grumbled as she stood up from her comfortable seat near the fire. Gwen looked up from her book. “Stay there, Gwen. It's probably no one important.”
She nodded, but didn't resume her reading. Morgana walked out of the room and opened the front door to find Gandalf on the other side. She grinned. “What are you doing here? You normally don't return so soon. It's only been two years since the Party!”
“I needed to see you.” He glanced around and then lowered his voice. “I think we had best move inside.”
Morgana's grin dropped off her face as she moved aside. She locked the door behind him and followed him to the study. He sat down in front of the fire, warming his hands. It was still early enough in the year that nights were nippy. He peered over his shoulder at Gwen. “And how are you doing?”
“I live here now. It's better that way.”
Gandalf's eyebrows rose. “I thought Tom wanted you to live at home rather than in your employer's house.”
Gwen looked steadily at the wizard. “She's my lover.”
Morgana smiled, surprised that Gwen had been so open about it with him. But then, only their friends Merlin and Arthur knew and were completely accepting. Tom turned a blind eye. The rest of the Shire… Well, they'd be ostracized at best. Maybe she was finally starting to see Morgana's point about not hiding. And if the wizard had a problem, then it could destroy everything.
“Ah. Then you will need to hear the discussion I will have with Morgana in the morning.”
“Why not now?” Morgana asked. “We're here and awake.”
“Because there are some things it is better to discuss in daylight. And I dare say that neither of you would get much sleep if we talked now. Now, how long have you been in a relationship?”
“Since our twenties,” Morgana answered. “Though she moved in only after her coming of age last year.”
“We didn't need more gossip than what occurred. Half the Shire suspects, I think,” Gwen said. “But we won't confirm anything. I have my own bedroom here. I like it, because it's a space of my own.”
“And we have fought.”
“Of course you have! I don't know anyone in a solid relationship who hasn't. But the Shire as a whole doesn't approve of couples like you," Gandalf said.
“No,” Gwen said. “I don't understand why. What's wrong with loving someone?”
“Absolutely nothing, my dear. Most of the Elves feel the same way you do.”
Gwen lit up. Morgana leaned back in her chair and smiled. Gwen always loved anything to do with Elves. And to hear Gandalf say that, maybe it would cause her to finally start overcoming the last vestiges of shame.
Two hours later, Gandalf excused himself and went into the bedroom they'd kept for any Big People who visited. (Not that it happened often. Gandalf was the only one who used the room since Father had left.) Morgana left Gwen staring at the flames. She was tired enough that she hoped she wouldn't dream tonight. She was getting bloody sick of the fire-mountain standing in the middle of a barren plain, with a tall, dark tower visible in the background.
The next morning, after eating a hearty breakfast Gwen cooked, the three of them settled themselves in the study, with a small fire burning in the hearth. Gandalf closed the window. “We must not be overheard. Too much resides in keeping our doings here secret.”
“Secret from whom?”
“Sauron, the Dark Lord residing in Mordor who desires nothing less than to control the world.”
Gwen gasped, but Morgana simply nodded. “I feared that was so. My dreams of late have been filled with a mountain on fire.”
“Mount Doom, most like. Is there anything else to them?”
“No. But I'd heard rumors from the Dwarves and other people crossing the Shire. Terrible things are coming, to the point where Elves are fleeing, sailing to Elvenhome across the water.”
“So you do know something. So this won't come as a complete shock.” He pursed his lips. “What do you remember about Gorlois' ring?”
“How he won it from a creature named Gollum in a riddle game, that it can turn the wearer invisible. He never thought it was more than a trinket. Though he did say it could slip off unexpectedly, so I've always kept it on a chain around my neck.”
“That's the only way you've worn it?”
Morgana looked startled. “Yes. I haven't seen any need to turn myself invisible. It's bad enough I'm friends with Merlin. If anyone had seen, I really would be ostracized, not looked askance at.”
“Ah, Merlin…” Gandalf looked thoughtful and a little worried. “His gift may yet come in handy, no matter what the rest of the Shire thinks. Now, may I see the ring?”
Morgana immediately lifted the chain from around her neck and handed it to him. Gandalf undid the clasp, slid the ring off it, and returned the chain to her. The ring, strangely for something so small, loomed in the wizard's hand. “I fear this ring is more than a trinket. In fact, I am sure that it is not. Morgana, have you ever wondered why your father never really seemed to age?”
“I assumed it was good blood. There are long-lived ancestors--”
“I know, which was why I was unconcerned at first. But now I have come to the conclusion that this is one of the Great Rings of Power, and that is a much graver matter. A mortal holder of one of them doesn't age, but merely exist. And if often used to become invisible, the holder fades into the shadow.”
“Father--”
“Do not worry about him. He no longer is the bearer.”
“I am.” Gwen reached over and held her hand. “So what must I do?”
“Nothing, yet. There is one last test I need to make.” With that, he tossed the ring into the fire. After waiting a brief time, Gandalf used the tongs to pick it up. “Morgana, hold out your hand. It won't burn you.”
He dropped it into her outstretched palm. Her mouth opened when she felt the cool ring touch her hand. She peered at it, and frowned when she saw writing appear.
“I can't read it,” Morgana said quietly. “But it looks Elvish.”
“The letters are,” Gandalf said, “but the language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here. It says simply, 'One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.' It is part of a verse known for over an Age by the Elves. I believe it was written and engraved upon the Ring by Sauron himself.
“This is the One Ring, the Master Ring that controls all others. Sauron has been looking for it for many a year, but he has believed it lost until recently. Now that he knows it exists, he has put forth much effort to finding it. On it rests the last hope we have-- for if he does not gain it, we still have a fighting chance of defeating him.”
“I wish that he hadn't returned now,” Gwen said quietly. “How are two hobbits and a wizard supposed to keep it from the Dark Lord?”
“That is what we must discuss. As for his returning, the Shadow always does. No one who lives in such times wishes it had happened to them, but all we are able to do is decide what to do with the time that is given to us. We have a chance, and we must take it.”
“So what must I do,” Morgana asked, threading the Ring back onto the chain.
“You must leave the Shire shortly. Not immediately, but no later than early autumn. Gollum left his caves and made his way to Mordor. He was captured there, and tortured, possibly by Sauron himself once it was revealed what his precious is. Sauron at last has heard of Shire, hobbits, and Baggins. He is likely seeking now.”
Morgana looked over Gwen, who didn't seem to notice how painfully tight she was squeezing her lover's hand, or how she was biting her lip. “I wish Father had killed Gollum. Then this wouldn't have happened. The Ring would still be safe here.”
“It was Pity that stayed his hand, Morgana. Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them?” He paused for a second. “Then do not be so eager to deal out death in judgement. Not even the wise can see all ends. Gollum may yet have some part to play in all this.”
“I rather doubt it,” Morgana said, chastened. But she knew that if faced with the same choice, she would have killed the monster. “Can we destroy the Ring?”
“Try, Morgana. Try to toss it into the fire.”
She tossed the chain-- no, she put it around her neck. She gulped and lifted her head. “How?”
Gandalf sank back into his seat, looking older than Morgana had ever seen him before. Gwen's eyes flickered between their faces. “You are the bearer, Morgana,” he said. “You will find it near impossible to harm it. And your small fire wouldn't even melt ordinary gold. The only place the Ring can be destroyed is Mount Doom, the place it was created.”
“The fire-mountain in my dreams…” she whispered. “If I need to go there to destroy it, I will. Sauron must not gain it. But I wish I wasn't a bearer.”
“So do I,” Gwen said. “But better you than an orc, or a murderer, or Gollum. Gandalf, could you take it?”
“No,” he said. “The temptation to use it would prove too powerful. I am here to help Middle-earth, not to rule it.”
They sat in silence for a little bit. Gwen loosened her hold on Morgana's hand, but they shifted on the sofa so they leaned against each other. “You said I must leave the Shire. I suppose I could stay here, but if I am being searched for, I cannot put everyone around me in danger. So I will leave.”
“And I'll come with you,” Gwen said firmly. “I'm not letting you go alone.”
“Then travel as Miss Underhill. Gwen, I'm afraid you may have to hide as a servant at times.”
“I can do that.”
Gandalf leaned forward. “Make for Rivendell. The Elves are the safest place for you right now, Morgana. And I think Gwen will be happy to see them.”
“I will be,” she said with a small smile on her face. “If we can reach the valley before we're captured.”
“Don't say that,” Morgana said sharply.
“It's the simple truth, Morgana. Two hobbits against the world Outside?”
“Don't forget you have a wizard, Gwen. I will be coming, though I have an errand I must run first. I must gather what news I can. I will return as soon as possible. Remember what I said about leaving no later than early autumn.”
Gwen said hesitantly, “Could others come with us?”
Gandalf blinked. “Just who did you have in mind?”
“Arthur and Merlin. Arthur wouldn't dare let two women travel alone, and, well, you said Merlin's gift could come in handy.”
“So I did. Yes, if you can tell them without letting the whole Shire know. By all means, Morgana, I think you will need their support by the end. It's better to have friends than to deal with this alone.”
* * * * *
Nearly four months later, Morgana had made her plans but Gandalf had yet to return from his news-gathering. Still, she had no choice but to complete the sale of Bag End to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, and to move to Crickhollow. It was fiction that she was moving back permanently to the place her mother had grown up, but it was on the east side of the Shire, which would make leaving it far less noticeable than if she had to travel through the Shire itself instead of slipping over the border. Another friend-- Lancelot Bolger-- would live in the house, trying to preserve the fiction for as long as possible. The travelers' safety depended on it.
After two nights in the country- one glorious one spent with Gildor's company after the Elves' appearance had chased off a servant of Sauron dressed as a rider in black, and they'd promised to send word to other Elves-- Morgana was quite glad to have crossed the Ferry and reached her new house. Lancelot, Merlin, and Arthur greeted them, having prepared the place for them (Morgana hoped that nothing had been broken), shooed the couple into bathtubs (in separate rooms) with a promise of food after, and left them alone. Morgana was just glad to get clean after days spent traveling. She knew it could be quite a while before she had another chance to soak in a tub. After all, Bree was a short distance away, but Rivendell was far beyond Bree with no inns between them. After the water cooled, she pulled on a nightgown and flung a dressing robe over it. She didn't need to be formal with her friends, much less Gwen. Not to her surprise, the other four were eating supper when she came into the kitchen. Thankfully, Gwen had saved her some of the choice portions. Merlin simply shot a cheeky grin at Morgana as he used his magic to steal a roll from her plate.
After everyone was full, Morgana looked at the other four. “We're leaving at dawn, or earlier if possible. Because we need to remain as unnoticeable as possible, we're going to have to go through the Old Forest, for a least a little ways.”
“It's dangerous,” Arthur said. “Even my family doesn't go far into it.”
“A forest versus Riders on the open Road-- I'd prefer the forest,” Gwen said, shuddering. "There's something about them that scares me."
“It'll have to be the Forest,” Merlin said, a distant look in his eyes.
Ignoring the chills Merlin's words and intonation sent up her spine, Morgana said, “Then I'm going to bed. Are you coming, Gwen?"
“In a little bit. I want to talk to Lancelot first.”
Gwen kissed her and went to the sitting room. Morgana went to the large bedroom, and swiftly fell asleep, once again dreaming of Mount Doom.
It didn't take long for them to get ready in the morning. No one had unpacked, and Lancelot had woken up early to load the ponies. The largest part of the preparation was the eating of breakfast. The leftovers, those that could be transported, were packed. Gwen hugged Lancelot farewell, as did Morgana and Merlin. Arthur was more restrained, as usual. The four swiftly rode to the gate leading into the Old Forest. Almost immediately, Morgana saw Merlin shiver, and she felt odd herself. Gwen and Arthur seemed to be affected as well, but not nearly as severely. She rode up to Merlin. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “Something malevolent. It's attempting to draw us in, but I can fight it off. It'll just be hard.”
“Do so,” Arthur ordered. “I think if we keep on this path, we'll end up at the Withywindle, which is the strangest part of the Forest.”
Merlin shot Arthur an annoyed look at being commanded to do something (Arthur usually didn't order the future Thain of the Shire around), stretched out a hand, and the strange feeling faded. Arthur immediately took the lead, picking the way through the tangled roots, as the faint path they'd been following petered out almost immediately. It was slow going, especially in the heat of the day. But they soldiered on. By dusk-- which was early due to the tree cover-- everyone was exhausted, especially Merlin. Once he ate his cold supper, he opened his bedroll and fell right to sleep. Morgana agreed with Arthur that watches should be assigned, and Gwen took the first. Morgana would have the last.
By mid-afternoon the next day, they broke out of the Forest very near to the Road. Merlin slumped in his saddle, tired from using his magic, and they took a brief break, letting him nap a bit. But they couldn't wait too long, and Arthur was as antsy as Morgana about remaining still when their only safety in the wild was their ability to keep moving. So they rode on, not taxing the ponies, but going as fast as they could manage. When they saw the lights of Bree twinkling in the night, Morgana said, “We need to stop. Gwen and I need to change into our dresses. Trousers on women would be too noticeable.”
It was the work of minutes to take their shirts off and pull the dresses on. Neither one of them bothered to clean up further. They'd been traveling, and it showed. Being too clean or pretty would also cause comment. But Morgana rode on with a somewhat lighter heart, knowing there were soft beds and hot food at their destination tonight. From the way Arthur and Merlin bantered and how Gwen chuckled, she knew they were looking forward to it as well.
Two hours later, the four had reached The Prancing Pony, and were settled in a small parlor, eating a large dinner. Merlin kept yawning almost from the moment he sat down, while Arthur looked curious. Gwen simply relaxed, eating a good meal. Morgana poked at her third serving of blackberry tart. She stood up and said, “I'm going to see if our room is ready yet. I think we need an early night.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “You go right ahead. Someone needs to make an appearance in the common room. And it shouldn't be Merlin.”
“Hey!” But he made no other protest, covering yet another yawn with the hand not holding a fork.
Gwen put her napkin on the table and stood up. “I'll come with you, Morgana. Better for you to not walk about alone.”
She nodded and the two of them left. While she waited outside the privy for Gwen to finish her business, Morgana played with the Ring on its chain, sliding it up and down. She heard booted footsteps coming towards her, and spun around. A leering man with heavy black eyebrows peered down at her. “It isn't safe for such a pretty thing to be wandering about alone.”
Morgana snorted, but curled a hand around the Ring. “I have a friend with me.”
“I'm sure you do,” he said, taking a step toward her.
Morgana backed off, but her grip on the Ring slipped, and it ended up on a finger. The man gasped and looked frantically around. “She's a witch!" He stepped backwards and nearly slipped. He cursed and ran back into the inn. Morgana swiftly slipped the Ring off and glared at it. Gandalf was right-- it did seem to have a mind of its own. She smiled at Gwen when the door to the outhouse opened.
“I heard something--”
“It's nothing,” Morgana said, putting her around Gwen's shoulders. “Nothing we need to discuss out here.”
When they reached the parlor, to Morgana's surprise, the innkeeper Butterbur was waiting for her with a letter. He apologized profusely for not sending it on, but left soon after, obviously still bothered. She swiftly opened the letter. “It's from Gandalf!”
Merlin blinked, clearly trying not to fall asleep in his chair. “What's it say?”
“That Gandalf wrote this in midsummer, that we're months late leaving the Shire, and that there's a man called Strider that we should find.”
She folded the letter and placed it on the table. Arthur looked up. “I said I'd go to the common room, and I can ask Butterbur if he's seen him, and to send him here.”
He slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Not more than five minutes later, he stepped into the room, followed by a lanky Man. “Butterbur wasn't happy when I asked. Seems the Rangers aren't much trusted hereabouts,” Arthur said as he sank back into his seat.
Morgana looked up at the tall man. “What's your true name?”
“Aragorn son of Arathorn. Gandalf has been a friend of mine for many years.”
Morgana glanced over at Merlin, who nodded. “He's telling the truth.”
Aragorn stared at him. “How are you able to tell?”
“Dunno. It's something I've always been able to do.”
Aragorn locked the door and pulled over a chair. “I was outside earlier, and saw you disappear, Morgana. Didn't Gandalf warn you not to use the Ring?”
“He did. And it was an accident.”
“I believe you,” he said, holding up his hands. “However, the Ringwraiths-you know them as the Black Riders-- will surely have sensed its use. We will spend the night here. I'm sorry you won't have beds to sleep on, but the rooms in this inn for hobbits are located easily. We'll be safer here.”
Morgana spent a restless night, unable to get truly comfortable. Aragorn appeared to not have slept at all, while the other hobbits weren't bothered by anything. Unfortunately, their plans for a swift departure were ruined when it was discovered the hobbits' ponies-- along with every other beast in the stable-- had been stolen in the night. So the five of them left on foot, carrying as much food as they possibly could. There was no guarantee of any between Bree and Rivendell.
They didn't stay on the road, instead crossing through a forest and a rather disgusting, insect-filled marsh. The sixth day out from Bree found them on Weathertop, the tallest hill in the area. They made a small camp in a dell on the western flank, and Morgana and Arthur followed Aragorn to the top. Morgana took in the vista, smiling a bit. She understood better now what her father had meant when he talked of the stark beauty of the wilderness. Unfortunately, Arthur spotted black shapes moving on the Road, and the three hurried to the dell to prepare. There was no chance that they would not be discovered this night. They could only hope that fire would be enough of a deterrent and weapon. While they gathered and stacked the firewood, as dusk grew on, Morgana caught Merlin looking askance at the wood. On pretense of stacking wood near him, she leaned over and whispered, “Remember, they want to take the Ring back to Sauron. Do what you need to do. No one here will think less of you.”
“It isn't you I'm worried about,” he said quietly, flicking his eyes to Aragorn. “Gandalf may trust him, but we don't know him, not really. There's no telling how he'd react. It doesn't matter Gandalf's a wizard; no one's seen anything like me before and they're afraid.”
He refused to say another word, so Morgana left him alone. She took up her position next to Gwen, who kissed her when she sat down. “We'll be fine,” Gwen said. The way her hands clenched the unlit torch she was holding told Morgana otherwise, but she wasn't going to say anything. They had to hope they would survive.
The battle was joined shortly after the waxing moon rose. When black figures appeared over the rise, Aragorn grabbed flaming branches in each hand and charged up the slope, while Gwen grabbed one, though seemed too afraid to leave Morgana alone. Arthur followed Aragorn's lead, fighting against the chill and fear the Wraiths caused. Merlin simply raised a hand and lit one of the figures on fire. Morgana just stood there, fighting silently, the Ring whispering, cajoling to be worn. But the defense wasn't enough, and Morgana tried to fight the temptation to put on the Ring. She couldn't, and slipped it on her ring finger. Immediately, she saw the Wraiths as haggard, terrible kings. The tallest one sprang forward, evading everyone and coming straight for her. She cried out, “O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!” but a sharp, cold blade stabbed her in the left shoulder. The pain broke through the compulsion to leave the Ring on, and she yanked it off just before collapsing to the ground.
She woke up only a short while later, with the fire raging next to her. Aragorn's face was weary. “You were stabbed with a blade, one specifically meant to bring its victims into the shadow realm, under Sauron's rule. I do not think you will succumb easily, but we must get you to Rivendell as swiftly as possible. I cannot treat the wound more than I already have, and Merlin knows no healing magic. Elrond can do much more.”
They left Weathertop at dawn. They spent days walking through the wilderness, on paths only Aragorn knew about. Morgana stayed silent. She had to trust him, and with her shoulder, she had to fight to continue walking. They returned to the Road to cross the Last Bridge, over the River Hoarwell. To Aragorn's surprise, he found no Riders, and a token-- a green beryl-- that indicated it had been made safe by an Elf. But they couldn't risk staying on the Road, and so returned to the hills north of the Road. Morgana wished otherwise, because the mostly level road made her wounded shoulder easier to bear. Finally, twelve days out from Weathertop, they had no choice but to return to the Road. They could not risk getting lost in the lands north of Rivendell.
Morgana was thankful for that. Her left arm had grown near useless and felt cold almost all the time, even though the small stab wound had healed. Just as they were looking for a place off the Road to camp, Aragorn heard something that sounded like a horse coming upon them. The five of them scrambled off the Road, but Aragorn ran back onto it when a blond Elf on a white horse rode by.
“Mae govannen, Glorfindel!”
The hobbits followed the Man onto the Road and stared at him, Gwen in particular. After Glorfindel examined Morgana's shoulder, he put her on his horse Asfaloth, and they continued traveling through the night. He, too, was of the opinion that time was short. After another day of walking, with only two briefs rests, they camped for the night. Morgana fell into a deep sleep, sore after riding for so long when she wasn't used to it. But that didn't prevent her from climbing back into the saddle the next day. Near the Brúinen River, their luck ran out. Ringwraiths ambushed them, coming at them from behind and both sides. Morgana cued Asfaloth to run, but slowed him as the Wraiths grew closer on their black horses. The Ring… the Ring… But Glorfindel ordered his horse to run, so he did-- straight across the Ford. That revived Morgana from the spell the Wraiths and the Ring were putting on her. She stood defiantly in the stirrups. “By Elbereth and Lúthien the Fair, you shall have neither the Ring nor me!"
The Wraiths laughed and continued calling to her. A loud rushing and grinding noise caught her attention, even through her wavering vision. The river was flooding and the Wraiths were caught in it. She stared as they were swept away by the raging waters and boulders contained in it. Morgana blinked, trying to make her graying sight return to normal, but it did nothing. And she lost her fight to remain conscious.
Part 2