After my relatively brief vacation from fanfiction, I have returned with the much-anticipated sequel (at least, I hope it was much-anticipated ;) to my LotR/PotC/"Real World" crossover, Wonder What it's Like. And, as promised, I have begun with everyone's favorite characters, Jack and Aragorn. Read, review, and enjoy, mates!

Disclaimer: I own neither Lord of the Rings nor Pirates of the Caribbean, nor any of the characters contained therein... though I'd like to.

Chapter One: Rangers Don't Need Directions

"I was not lost!"

Aragorn turned to face Jack, his wolfish grey eyes lit by a strange mixture of annoyance and wry amusement. "Jack, you were going in the wrong direction. Minas Tirith is east of us. You were headed west."

Jack glowered at him, his already black mood worsened by the aggravatingly calm tone of the Ranger's voice… and by the fact that Jack was forced to look up to look him in the eye. He hated being reminded of anything that suggested Aragorn was better than him, especially when it came to height. Jack wasn't what you would call short, but it did seem that most of the people he didn't get along with were taller (and broader) than he was – Barbossa, Davy Jones, Norrington, and now Aragorn. It normally wouldn't have bothered him this much (he told himself), but after an entire year of being stuck with the man in a world that only Aragorn knew well enough to navigate efficiently, every little thing seemed to get under his skin. It didn't help that he still hadn't gotten over Robin… and he suspected Aragorn hadn't forgotten Erindi, either.

That was exactly why, a few days earlier during a particularly heated argument over what they were going to eat for dinner, Jack had decided he could find his way to their current destination on his own, and had struck out during the night in what he knew (or, at least, thought he knew) was the right direction. Aragorn had apparently been tracking him the entire time, and had only just now caught up with him. Though Jack admitted to himself that, in retrospect, he probably should have known he'd get lost, he refused to say the same to Aragorn. "I was simply on my way to a detour that would've taken me to a path which would have gotten me to Minas Tirith twice as fast as your way."

Aragorn arched an eyebrow at him. "Jack, there are no paths this far east of the mountains."

"You mean, none that you are aware of." Jack gave him a smug look, as if he, not Aragorn, was a King.

Aragorn sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a headache coming on. "As both the Captain of the Dunedain and the King of the Reunited Realm, it's vital that I know these lands perfectly by memory. You, however, don't even have a map." He opened his eyes again and gave Jack a hard look.

Jack appeared miffed. "I don't need a map."

"You also don't have a compass." Even as he said it, Aragorn could see from the look on Jack's face that he shouldn't have brought that subject up again. Ever since they'd discovered that Jack's "unique" compass and Aragorn's dagger from Lothlorien had disappeared, Jack had insisted that it was his fault, though Aragorn failed to see the logic behind this decision. More than one disagreement had ended in a fight over whose fault it was the objects were missing, and they'd still not come to a definite conclusion on the matter, though Aragorn had long suspected that Eris, the goddess of chaos, probably was the one to blame. Why she would take the compass and the knife, however, was a question he had found no answer to – and the goddess herself had failed to make an appearance of any kind since their return to Middle-Earth.

"That's because YOU lost it!" Jack retorted, breaking Aragorn's train of thought with the sharp tone of his voice.

Aragorn shook his head and, turning away from the irate pirate, began walking east again. "I refuse to have this conversation with you again, Jack. For the last time, I did not take your compass. As I've said before, it was probably Eris up to one of her tricks again. Now, walk – we've got a long way to go before we get to Minas Tirith."

Jack, still fuming, glared after him. As much as he hated to admit it, he was lost, and he had a feeling the Ranger would leave him behind this time if he didn't follow. Unwilling to let his pride be bruised, he told himself he wasn't actually going to follow Aragorn, but rather, out of the pure goodness of his heart, he was going to go along with him to protect him – because everyone knows that Aragorn couldn't take care of himself on his own. Satisfied with this reasoning, he quickly caught up with Aragorn before the Ranger left his range of sight altogether.

"So you decided to come after all," Aragorn remarked, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

Jack raised an eyebrow at him haughtily. "It's for your own good."

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "Because I need your protection, right?" he asked sarcastically.

Jack smiled condescendingly at him. "Exactly."

"Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"Did it ever occur to you that you are possibly the most annoyingly flamboyant and arrogant person I know in two worlds?"

Jack, taken aback by the unforeseen insult, grimaced darkly at Aragorn. "At least I don't have fifty different names – all of which, I might add, sound fairly stupid."

It was Aragorn's turn to scowl. It was true he was called different things in different places, and it was also true that he would definitely not have chosen certain ones, had he had a say in the matter. Strider, he knew, sounded more like a dog's name than a man's, and Wingfoot… well, he was still trying to figure out how to get Eomer back for that one. "My names reflect who I am."

Jack smirked. "You mean like Estel? I still say that sounds like a woman's name. Are you telling me you're a eunuch after all, then?"

Aragorn glared at him. "For the last time, Jack, it is not a woman's name. It means hope!"

"Sure it does," Jack replied easily. "But you're still a eunuch."

"I am not a eunuch!" Aragorn shot back exasperatedly. He was beginning to truly question his decision to go after Jack instead of leaving him behind. "Why do I even bother talking to you?" he muttered under his breath, and continued to walk, telling himself that the sooner he got to Minas Tirith, the sooner he could have Jack publicly beheaded. Of course, in reality, he'd never actually do such a thing, it made him feel better at the moment to tell himself he would. Jack, grinning and congratulating himself on winning the argument, followed after, his earlier anger all but forgotten.