An: Hi everyone! This is my semi-sort of-sequel/spin-off to "Il Ballerina Piccolo." You don't really need to read the other story to understand this on, I think. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the ride! Please be kind and don't flame me for my concept. I came up with it at 8:30AM before either Calculus or General Chemistry. I just do this for fun and to pass the time between my classes. I always appreciate reviews---good, bad, indifferent.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.

Then---sometime before the War of the Ring---

She rode, afraid that someone was going to find out. She was keeping a great secret, one that would not only endanger her future but the futures of two others. One of these others did not deserve any ill feelings. He or she was an innocent in this situation.

She continued to ride because she knew she had to. There were, already, many miles between her and her homeland. This flight, this exodus was necessary in order to protect the secret she held. If her father were to find out, there was no telling what he would do.

Though she had been riding, and riding hard for quite sometime, there were still many miles left to cover. The journey between her home and her destination had not been easy. Then again, she had not expected it to be.

The hard riding and the camping had not been good for her, leaving her more and more exhausted as the days passed. She was not worried for herself, however. All her concern was for the baby she was carrying. This journey could not be beneficial for the unborn child.

The baby was the reason she had fled her home and her family. She did not want her father to know she was expecting, lest he do something rash to her, her child, or her child's father. She had decided to ride out when it became apparent her father, a skilled healer, could discern what was happening to his daughter.

There were only a scant few miles between her present location and her destination. Physically and mentally exhausted from the long day of rising, she decided to take a rest.

While the female ate, she took the lay of the land. Many years had passed since she had last journeyed to these parts. The eaves of a golden wood beckoned her with their familiarity. Once she got to those eaves, she would be protected; would be given asylum. There she would be safe. Once under those eaves, she assumed, that her next step would be decided.

Though the child she carried was an accident, something she had never meant to happen, she did not begrudge his or her existence. There was a reason why this happened, though she could not see it now. Perhaps this child was fated to be born now. Perhaps his or her destiny would come into clearer focus when he or she was born.

The child's father was unaware of this situation. The woman was afraid to tell him, afraid of how he would react. She knew that there would come a time when he would have to know about the child's existence but that time was not now. He was not ready to know and she was not prepared, in any way, shape, or form, to tell him. However she thought about breaking the news, whatever words she considered using, they all did not sound right.

Getting up, the woman began to walk toward her horse. Her steps were slow, weary from many different things.

Suddenly, the bushes that surrounded the clearing exploded. Orcs, foul creatures snarling and bearing crude weapons, had her surrounded on all sides. They all seemed to be waiting for the most opportune moment to strike at the lone figure.

A very shrill whistle split the air and a horse came crashing through one group of orcs. The woman managed to mount the horse and, with a whispered command, began to speed away from the orcs. She was confused, wondering why the orcs did not attack. She was badly out numbered and, given her current condition, could have been taken down fairly easily.

She, then, felt rather than saw the arrows whizzing by. Nearly all missed for she was riding at a very fast pace and these orcs did not appear to be very good marksmen. Only one found its mark. This arrow, oozing a foul green substance, embedded itself in her side.

Almost instantly, she knew something was wrong. The pain in her side, at first not noticeable, had escalated to a manner of pain she could not classify. It had spread from her side, across her stomach, to her other side. It took a great effort to keep herself on the back of her mount.

Her vision began to blur. The trunks of the trees began to double and triple. Paths melded and reformed before her very eyes.

"The substance on the arrow," she though, fighting through the pain and spurning her mount to greater and greater speeds, "is going to kill me and this child."

The borders of the woods drew closer and closer as the pain grew more and more intense. She hoped that, once within the confines of the woods, someone could save her and, more importantly, her child.

On the outskirts of the woods, she noticed that front of her dress was stained dark. With a shaking hand she reached out to touch the stained cloth. To her shock, she discovered that the stained portions were wet with blood.

Spots danced before her eyes and the edges of her vision began to darken. It took an effort just to steer her horse towards one of the trees she knew housed a guard's platform.

"Who goes there?" one of the guards called, in a clipped voice.

When he received no reply, he soundlessly climbed down a ghostly gray ladder and approached the frightened and tired horse.

He took in the state of both horse and rider, shock marring his features.

"Fetch a healer," she shouted to the others in the trees above him, "This woman is in grave danger."

All the woman could do was croak out, "Help."

Then she saw no more.