Gazing at the apocalyptic scene surrounding the Volcano of Doom, its skies dense with watchful eyes and patrols, Aragorn frowned, his expression grave. After a long silence, he finally spoke in a low voice.
"We must split up."
He turned to the others, his voice steady but heavy with resolve.
"Five people moving together will draw too much attention. Even if we break through the outer blockades and enter the mountain, we will almost certainly be discovered. Therefore, Legolas, Gimli, and I will create a diversion. We'll draw the enemy's attention and pull their forces away. Frodo and Sam will use that chance to enter the Volcano of Doom."
Legolas nodded without hesitation. Gimli's eyes burned with fierce resolve.
Although they all understood the danger, knew that this plan would place Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli directly in the heart of overwhelming enemy forces, none of them wavered. They had already prepared themselves to fight to the death if it meant ending the Dark Lord forever.
Gimli's battle spirit surged as he laughed harshly.
"We've been holding it in this whole cursed journey. About time we split a few skulls!"
Frodo, however, felt his heart tighten.
"But that's far too dangerous!" he said anxiously. "This place is crawling with sorcerers and monsters. Once you're exposed..."
Aragorn smiled gently and placed a reassuring hand on Frodo's shoulder.
"Do not worry for us," he said calmly. "Legolas and I can use illusionary displacement and short-range teleportation. Gimli's combat strength alone is enough to draw chaos wherever he goes. And if things truly turn dire… we still carry the Key. We can retreat."
Then his tone softened, his gaze sharpening with concern.
"The greater danger lies with you and Sam. You do not wield magic. The closer you draw to the volcanic rift, the stronger the Dark Power becomes. Patrols are everywhere. One misstep, and you'll be captured."
Aragorn studied Frodo closely. Even beneath the grotesque half-orc disguise, Frodo's pallor was unmistakable.
"Frodo… can you still endure it?"
Though Sauron himself was absent, the Ring had been forged here. The Volcano of Mount Doom was bound to it. The closer one approached, the heavier its oppressive presence became.
Even sealed within its container, the Ring's aura grew stronger by the hour.
And Frodo, its bearer, felt that pressure constantly, gnawing at his mind and spirit. His face was pale, his posture strained, his body and soul worn thin.
"I'm fine," Frodo said quietly, forcing a smile. "Don't worry about me."
The others could say nothing. They knew the truth.
Hobbits alone possessed an unusual resistance to the Ring's corruption. Prolonged exposure would erode any of them, but Frodo bore it alone.
Even Sam wished to share the burden, but Frodo refused. He would not let Sam suffer the same torment unless he truly reached his limit.
Once the decision was made, Aragorn raised his wand.
"There are countless patrols," he said. "Wrags, trolls, Orcs on the ground. Vampires, carrion crows, and spirits riding fell beasts in the air. I will cast an illusion over you, one that blends you with the surroundings."
He paused, his voice grave.
"But it is not true invisibility. You must move carefully."
He continued, warning them clearly.
"Creatures with keen senses, especially the wrags, can still smell you. And the Eye of Sauron, perched upon the Dark Tower, can see through illusions entirely. If you enter its direct gaze, no spell will hide you."
With that, Aragorn could only hope fate would favor them.
The company parted.
Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli moved to the far side of the volcano, deliberately creating chaos, drawing patrols, alarms, and attention, even the Eye itself, away from the true path.
As they prepared to leave, Frodo suddenly remembered something. He reached into his pack and pulled out two small golden vials, handing one to Aragorn.
"This is," Aragorn's eyes widened. "A Blessing Elixir?"
Frodo nodded, a little shy.
"It was a birthday gift from Uncle Bilbo. Elsais said it brings good fortune. Uncle Bilbo gave me his as well. I… forgot about it before. But now, I hope it helps."
Aragorn laughed softly, relief and gratitude flashing across his face.
"This truly is a gift at the perfect moment. A Blessing Elixir is incredibly rare, only a master potion-maker could brew one. With this, our odds improve greatly."
Two vials.
Each lasting twenty-four hours.
One vial of the Felix Felicis was divided equally between Frodo and Sam. Their mission was the most critical of all, so each drank half a vial, gaining twelve hours of extraordinary fortune.
The remaining vial was divided among Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, each receiving eight hours of good fortune, enough to allow them to entangle themselves with enemy forces, stir chaos, and draw the full attention of Mordor away from the true path.
As for the wretched creature who had guided them thus far, it naturally had no right to share in such a precious potion. By the time they had reached the foot of the Volcano of Doom, its usefulness had dwindled to almost nothing.
Amid its terrified pleas for mercy, Aragorn showed no hesitation. He cast a Petrification Charm, freezing the Gollum in place, then layered a Disillusionment Spell over it, concealing its form. Finally, he dragged it beneath a massive rock in a secluded crevice, hiding it from sight.
Once the magic faded, the creature would regain its freedom. Whether it could survive in Mordor afterward would depend entirely on its own luck and abilities.
Aragorn and the others were well aware of the creature's obsession with the ring. Now that they stood so close to the Volcano of Doom, they could not afford to carry such a volatile liability any further. They had not killed it, only restrained and hidden it, which, considering it had once tried to lure them into a giant's lair to be devoured, was already an act of mercy.
After dealing with the creature, Frodo and Sam donned their invisibility cloaks and, relying on the fortune granted by the Blessing Elixir, quietly moved toward a section of the blockade where defenses were weakest. By then, the effects of the Polyjuice Potion had worn off, and they had reverted to their true Hobbit forms.
Their short stature and unassuming appearance made them even harder to detect beneath the cloaks. The foul stench they had previously smeared over themselves had long since faded, fortunately so, as such an odor would have drawn immediate attention in this place.
The cloaks they wore were not Deathly Hallow, but they were still of excellent quality, far superior to most cloaks found in the wider world. While they lacked permanent enchantments, they provided reliable concealment, and the Hobbits' small frames allowed them to remain completely hidden.
While Frodo and Sam lay in wait, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli continued consuming Polyjuice Potion to maintain their half-orc disguises. Using illusionary teleportation, they crossed to the opposite side of the Volcano of Doom and infiltrated the main Orc encampment.
Exploiting the long-standing tension between Orcs and Beastmen, Aragorn and Legolas quietly cast disruptive spells and slipped mind-altering potions into their food stores. Paranoia and aggression spread rapidly through the ranks.
Soon, clashes erupted.
Amid the chaos, Gimli, still disguised as an Orc, charged headlong into the fighting, his axe rising and falling as he decapitated several orcs, further inflaming the conflict.