"Frodo..."

The ring called softly to him in his mind.

"Frodo... it wants it... yes it does... PRECIOUSSSSSS..."

The word began to shriek in his head, hissing until he could bear it no longer-

"STOP!"

Frodo awoke with a start and sat up stiffly. Several figures appeared over him, their faces blank in concern.

"What is it, little one?" Legolas asked quietly. He ushered the others away and sat down beside Frodo.

"I heard it again, the ring. What did I do? Why was everyone standing over me like that?" Frodo realised he was still in Lorien.

"You cried 'Stop' and started shaking like a Mallorn's leaves, that fall steadily in the autumn." Legolas voice, as smooth and as comforting as it was, did not have any effect on Frodo; sounding almost as if he were in his own dream, he never usually spoke like that.

He discovered that in fact he was shaking, and clutching the Ring tightly in his right hand.

"Maybe you should try and get some rest." Legolas suggested.

"I can't. Its too painful to sleep, but I'm so tired"

"Well, think of The Shire, and of Bilbo, I know you are fond of him, and sleep will do you some good, Master Frodo."

"Yes, but still?"

"Master Frodo, if my heart were not so troubled of grief and of pain, then I would attempt to comfort you more than I already have done. But we are all weary with fatigue and sorrow." Legolas looked down at this point, and tears brimmed from his elven blue eyes.

"I'm sorry Legolas. Thank you. I shouldn't have expected any more 'wisdom' from you than already has been said.  I'm OK now." Frodo laid a reassuring hand on Legolas shoulder, as tears began to fall slowly from his beset eyes.

"Thank you Frodo. The grief, is just, too much for one to bear, as well as to assure another that all is right" Legolas looked into Frodos eyes, but Frodo only would tear his away, for the anguish would also fall upon him as it did upon Legolas.

Legolas arose with a sigh, and blinked the rest of his tears away, as he settled back down to slumber.

"Why this?" Frodo asked himself.

He could not prise his own hand off of The One Ring, and so, defeated by his own will, sank back against the tree roots that he was resting against. He looked up towards the sky and shuddered, falling once again, into troubled sleep.

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*Four Days Later*

Frodo did not know why he was so reluctant to leave Lórien: how he had grown to love it, there was no real answer. Perhaps it was the knowing of seeking refuge there, after the terrible happenings of Moria. Perhaps it was the elves, or the Lady Galadriels mirror; which had indeed troubled him since he looked into those watery depths, and saw things that he would have chose not to. Frodo did not know, but he had left Lórien, and was reluctant in doing so.

In this manner of deep thought, Frodo had not realised that he had wandered away from the rest of the Fellowship at Amon Hen. He struggled through the greenery of the forest, unaware of his actions.

It was not until then that the sharp bite of reality came suddenly back to him when a cloak was thrown fiercely over his head.

The response from his muffled cry was one of the most terrifying answer he had ever received in his life.

"Quiet you, or those lovely blue eyes wont be the only thing I gouge out." A smooth harsh English voice sneered in reply.

"No! What are you doing!" Frodo yelled as he managed to duck, and turned to face him.

He was tall and olive skinned, dressed respectfully but for a travel-stained cloak, his hazel coloured eyes were now staring in anger and hatred for this innocent hobbit. Frodos hand flew to his sword hilt as the man advanced, towering above the 3"10 hobbit. The man drew a smaller thinner blade; grey, purple and rusted at the hilt, but with a poisonous black blade that Frodo knew only too well

"Eru! Not a Morgul Blade!" He stammered to himself, backing away slightly.

"Yep. Just the one." The man smiled evilly to himself and jabbed the Morgul Blade forward as though to scare the halfling.

"No!" Frodo raised his Elven sword, Sting, and his free hand flew to his left shoulder.

"What do you want?" Frodo raised his head and tried to look the man in the eye, but the powerful stare met him and his eyes faltered.

"Ive had enough of you pretty boy."

He imitated a young girls voice.

"Ooh look its Frodo Baggins! Isnt he sooo cute?"

He returned to his normal chilling voice.

"Well its ENOUGH halfling. ENOUGH! Youre always one better, one step more! Its just- ENOUGH! You damn hobbits are always one more closer. Why dont you just give me a chance, huh? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS DOING TO ME!" He stepped forward, once again towering over Frodo, shouting at him. Frodo steeped back and stifled a small cry of terror. Still, he managed to recover his senses.

"Wh- Who are you?" He stammered, petrified.

"You want to know? YOU WANT TO KNOW?" The man yelled once again, but realised what he was doing and stepped back. Once again, in his sneering voice, he replied-

"Just call me Orli."