Frodo rose painfully on his elbows and stared around into the gloom. Where was he this time?

He tried crawling forward a little, but hit his head between two steel bars and yelled in surprise, a hand flying to his throat, because the burning sensation was still there. He felt along a little, and realised he must be in the dungeons of Orthanc; a perilous place, or so he was told by Gandalf.

He sat back and rubbed his sore head thoughtfully, as his eyes gradually became accustomed to the darkness, and he could make a feint outline of the bars now, but nothing beyond that; thank god he was not afraid of the dark, as little Pippin was.

He suddenly remembered, and with dread, felt around the chain frantically about his neck, and sighed uneasily with relief; he could see a slight glint of the One Ring, and could feel it hanging coldly there.

He squeezed his eyelids together quickly as someone (or something) lit a match on the other side of the bars, directly ahead, and lit a small beacon.

Frodo sat back and covered his eyes with his hands, peering through them when his eyes came a little more used to the fiery glow that wreathed around itself before him.

Orli was there.

It amused him to see two large, almost unworldly blue eyes peering fearfully at him. They almost glowed by the firelight, Orli thought.

"Glad you have decided to return to us, my friend," he smiled, and Frodo stared warily at him; the fire created uneasy shadows under Orlis eyes, and if he were just a little more unaware of his surroundings, he could have mistaken him for an orc.

"Friend?" he spluttered, gathered his senses after the fright.

"Hm," Orli leaned lazily back in the chair and slid the beacon into a holder beside him, while Frodo sat up properly, attempting to regain his calmness and sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Orli raised his eyebrows, "He tried to take it," he said lightly, as if it did not matter, as Frodo stared upwards in shock, "Yep. Its true. But your little friend there," Orli continued, meaning friend as the ring, "Made you er fit."

"It what?" Frodo said, confused.

"Fit." Orli leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees.

Frodo raised his eyebrows at himself. Why would he fit because someone attempted to disturb the ring? It slowly dawned on him that he was becoming attached to it. Time was running out, but he was disturbed from his state of thought as Orli rummaged in his pack.

"Here," he said, and passed something through the bars; it looked much like a flask, and Frodo took it gingerly.

"Its not going to bite!" Orli snorted.

"What is it?" Frodo turned the flask around, fearing that it was another kind of burning liquid, feeling his throat painfully as he remembered.

"Miruvor, my friend," Orli said again, exasperated.

Frodo remembered; that was the liquid Gandalf gave us as they fought upon Caradhras, he thought. He wondered what had happened to Gandalfs body, he thought with a horrible sinking feeling, and he took a sip of the miruvor gratefully.

It cooled his throat soothingly, and he felt a little of his strength and energy return, neither did he feel so sick anymore; if not he realised he felt a little hungry. He realised he had not eaten in days. He shrugged as he saw his pack a few feet away from him, and offered the miruvor back to Orli through the bars, but Orli refused.

"You carry it," he simply said, "It is heavy, and its no use to me either."

Frodo crawled over to his pack, and rummaged for some of the Lembas he had stored in there, and slid the flask of miruvor lovingly next to his water bottle.

He found the Lembas, still in its silver casing, and munched on a little of it, relieved, and it consumed some of his hunger. He did not feel hungry; he had just had the miruvor, and he had since filled his water bottle at Amon Hen, so it was still about three-quarters full.

Orli coughed warningly, and Frodo quickly put everything back in his pack, and looked up to see Orli now standing and fiddling with the lock holding the bars together.

"What are you doing?" Frodo asked.

Orli pushed exasperated at the lock, and to his triumph, they pushed open unsteadily, and he stood inside the dungeon, eyeing his handy-work for a moment, and folding his arms. He then glanced at Frodo and swiftly picked him up and threw him over his shoulder, as Frodo just managed to grab his pack in time out of panic.

"Where are we going?" Frodo whispered, terrified, clinging tightly to his pack in one hand and Orlis travel-stained cloak with the other.

Orli did not answer, but he stamped the torch out and continued, climbing upwards on winding stairs with no banister to steady himself. Frodo looked before him, and discovered only murky blackness below him and shivered, and imagining him tumbling forwards, being lost forever in dark dreams of death.

Frodo shook his head as if to drive the thoughts away, as Orli pushed open a door wildly and backed against the wall, crushing Frodo behind him, but he didnt seem to care what he was doing to the hobbit.

In his pain Frodo heard heavy footsteps advancing towards them down the corridor. He could hear Orli cursing as he realised there was no where to hide; stealing a prisoner suffered a heavy penalty.

Orli crouched in the shadows, while Frodo winced as he pushed him further into the wall, hardly being able to breathe, and he heard someone, or something for that matter, grunting past, shuffling along. He craned his neck and turning his head, he saw the outline of two Uruk-Hai passing, speaking in their own dialect.

Orli sighed and swiftly darted on through a maze of dark, stuffy corridors until light hit Frodos face again. They were coming quietly down a staircase, and they heard Sarumans voice drawing close.

Frodo realised that if Saruman heard anything or spotted even a shadow, it would result in grave danger. Orli, was apparently thinking the same thing, and leaned back into the wall, sidling down the door.

A voice drew particularly close, and he threw himself against the wall again. Frodo was crushed, and unfortunately, there someone had hammered a nail or something into the wall and it stabbed right into his collarbone. Frodo jumped and stifled a small cry, shaking heavily as he attempted to bear the excruciating pain that erupted from his neck.

And every voice stopped.

Orli sighed in anger and elbowed Frodo painfully in the side for letting their whereabouts become known. They heard more footsteps advance slowly towards them. An Uruk-Hai appeared around the corner, and stared.

But there was nothing there.

It turned savagely, about to give word to its waiting master. But something pounced out of a shadow, and killed it ferociously, slitting its throat. Saruman yelled in surprise as the shadow went back and, carrying something struggling under its arm, stole out of the door before anyone could attack.

Saruman flew to the door in pursuit, and aimed his staff, sending a jet of light after it. But it was gone.

"Orli has gone!" Saruman cried to the creatures behind him, "He must not get away with the halfling! Launch a search! Scour every plain! He must not escape!"