"Hurry up!"

Frodo jumped out from a tangle of thorns and stumbled behind a mutated, deadened tree trunk, with branches sprawled like spikes across it. Orli took hold of Frodos cloak and dragged him down to kneel beside him.

A harsh voice was heard not far in the distance. Frodo and Orli crouched down, and saw many pairs of clumsy feet stamp into the ground and work up shards of dust. Frodo leaned forward, a tickle in his throat, but Orli soon reminded him of his whereabouts by hitting him painfully across his back.

They travelled by foot for many miles. Frodo stumbled across many wastelands, and was dragged through streams and foliage until his head lolled forward with fatigue; it was as if his body toiled by itself, when his mind was resting in a dark numbness.

In time, even Orli had felt weariness, and they both crouched in the trees as the day was choked by night. Frodo had just settled against the prickly roots of a tree on squelching mud when he felt a sharp elbow in his shoulder.

"Hey!" a voice hissed near to him, "get behind the tree, and for gods sake halfling keep it quiet!"

Frodo was about to ignore him, but he suddenly heard light footsteps not far from him. His eyes snapped open and he threw himself behind a bush, up to his waist in marshland, just as voices could be heard.

They were clear, melodious voices, and they spoke in a tongue that Frodo recognised but did not understand: Elvish.

"Mani nae tanya?" (What was that?)

"Mani nae mani?" (What was what?)

Orli moved in alarm when he realised that they were talking about them. The footsteps had stopped.

"Tanya! Dina!" (That! Be still!)

"Amin uuma-" (I dont-)

"Tula sinome!" (Come here!)

The footsteps drew closer and closer... and stopped just yards of the tree on the other side. Frodo crouched low with fear, Orli with apprehension.

"Amin uuma-" (I dont-)

Suddenly, Frodo was suddenly thrown to the side. Orli jumped up, glanced at the elves staring wide in surprise at them, picked up Frodo heavily and started sprinting throw the tangling trees. Frodo, in his panic, squirmed violently, and Orli let him fall to the ground before running for his own life; the elves were following.

Frodo picked himself up and scrambled after Orli. Through many bushes and trees they thought their way through, but Frodos legs felt like lead and in his panic, he had felt a wave of nausea and fatigue swarm over him and he began to slow down.

Orli noticed this and snatching at the hobbits cloak, he dragged him on. Frodo wearily looked back as he stumbled. He could hear the elves chase in hot pursuit, and he felt sure that more elves had joined them. He felt utterly terrified, to think what would happen if they were captured.

An arrow whistled past him. Many more followed. They had to duck and run from side to side constantly so that they would not get hit. They heard the shouts from behind them get a little more distant and they slowed down a little. Orli was getting a little tired anyway, so they would stop and hide soon.

Frodo knew it would happen. It always did anyway...

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh for... DAMN THIS!" he heard someone kick something to his left and yell in pain almost instantly. He could hear a fire crackling somewhere, and felt warmer.

Frodo was lying on his stomach; a throbbing pain where his Morgul wound was, in his shoulder. His head was turned painfully to the left, and he was shaking violently, perhaps not from the cold though.

"Orli?" he tried to say, but it was barely a whisper.

As soon as Orli heard it, he jumped down onto his knees and peered at Frodos face. Why does he look so alarmed? Frodo thought, what is wrong with me? And why does my shoulder hurt this bad?

"Hes alive," was all Orli said blankly. Frodo pondered over this for a moment. He tried to push himself up, "Hey! Youre going nowhere!" said Orli suddenly, and he pushed him back down to lay on the ground and went out of sight.

Frodo frowned. Then he saw his left hand and touched it gingerly. The swelling from his wrist had gone considerably down in those past few days, but still it was painful. But his hand, his whole left arm even, was cold, pale and limp; it almost looked completely white in the shadows, but his fingers were touched a sickly, dull light blue colour.

Streaks of blood were sliding down his arm, and his shoulder was agony. The glistening blood was his. Frodo reeled from the shock. He turned his head painfully upwards, and saw an arrow upright in his shoulder. He suddenly felt dizzy as he heard footsteps back.

"What happened?" he whispered shakily as he watched the blood trickle and stain his cloak.

"You were hit," Orli said, as he knelt beside him again, carrying his pack, "But I have found something to dress it with."

Frodo trembled as he felt Orli placed his hands on his shoulder, lifting his cloak up carefully as not to disturb the arrow. He covered Frodo waste down with it. He saw then that his waistcoat and shirt were completely soaked with scarlet, and his shoulder had started shaking by itself and had also started to turn a sickly light blue colour.

"Now lie still," he heard Orli say, and watched with paralysing horror, hands grasp the arrow, he tried to struggle, to sit up, but Orli pushed him back down and grasped the arrow again. Frodos eyes widened in shock as he saw Orli do this, and with gut-wrenching agony Orli ripped the whole arrow clean out of Frodo's sobbing body.

Frodo almost screamed as the agony tore through his body, lingering in his fingertips. He clenched the soil below him, and bit his lip so hard that he could taste coppery blood in his mouth.

He felt Orli put something in the wound to stop it infecting, and closed his eyes together tight as a wad of bandaging was pressed onto the wound to stop it bleeding and bandages were quickly bound about it. Orli kept pressing on the wound, to stop it from bleeding, forcing Frodo to endure such terrible pain throughout that he almost fainted from physical torment and his good waistcoat was almost completely scarlet in colour.

Orli rolled him over to lay beside the fire, resting his arm higher than the rest of his body to drain the blood from it and gave him a mouthful of miruvor to serve as a painkiller.

"We will have to keep travelling tomorrow, and you have no excuse not to go," Frodo distantly heard him mutter as he drifted into unconsciousness, lying on his side while his shoulder was bound with bandages some more, "Tomorrow, it is through the Dead Marshes."

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Please excuse the elvish- Im an elf only in training!

Tiggivon: Your reviews make me so happy!!! Thanks for reviewing ME: The Faculty. Thats a great laugh writing that!

Samus: Priceless?!! Is that a compliment? ::evil smile:: Thankyou! Youre very kind!

Galadriel Greenleaf: You scare me! (Compliment) Im aaaaalways mean to Frodo ::evil cackle:: but, maaaaaybe Ill tone it down a bit, I dunno. Ak! Dying of suspense to read your stories! Thanksh!

Tathar: Here it is!!! And keep Always a Silver Lining Up. The suspense is painful! And yeah, I updated the chapters :)

Princess of Mirkwood: Thanks for reviewing, and thanks for reading! :D

Easterlily41482: Hell yeah, torturing Frodos what I do! I know, I do so love adding Orli and Lij to the torture-y fun! Makes it more interesting ::cackle::

Mr. Frodo: Great name :D but why are you laughing? You laughing at my work??! HOW COULD YOU!!! ::silence:: actually, its pretty funny when you think about it teehee Ill stop being insane now. Thanks

Normal Human Being: YAY! Love the name!!! And yes, llamas are such a gooood idea... excellent... you might see one of the elves pet llama standing by the side of them if you look close enough! ::evil smile:: thanks!