This chapter takes place before the book/movie; later chapters you will see where the book/movie picks up. Rated for violence and future sexuality. A fireteam is a four-man Marine patrol unit. I've taken some liberties with changing around duties and proceedings of a Marine patrol however. I don't own any of The Hobbit characters or the world of Middle Earth, however all the other characters-that aren't mentioned in the movie/book-are original, as is this storyline. Let me know what you think; obviously I am like all other writers in that feedback fuels my creative fires.

Something was wrong. She could feel it in every molecule of her being. Things had shifted and now, on instinct alone, she knew they were not at all where they should be. Rolling her shoulders to adjust the weight of her pack she shook her head. No, things were not as they should be.

"Corporal, what is our situation?"

Though she couldn't see him through the thick foliage of the trees, Jaq knew her AAR assist Bulldog was up there. He'd left his pack at the foot of the tree in order to better shimmy up it. They'd had quite a few laughs watching him slip and curse his way up it, his combat boots providing little traction against the smooth bark of the giant beech tree. His flak armor had gotten in his way numerous times and so half way up he'd requested permission to discard it; she'd ignored the request and told him to stop climbing like a school kid.

She'd chosen Bulldog since a) he'd been bragging about his stellar climbing skills ever since he'd gotten back from leave and b) it was his turn to take the "shit" for the team. Jaq made sure they rotated out the "shit" jobs and her recon man Turkey had been quick to remind her that it was Bulldog's turn.

"Situation normal, captain." Bulldog's voice was faint and when Jaq moved closer to the base of the tree and looked up she could only barely make out the shape of her assist, he was so far up into the canopy. "All fucked up."

Jaq tensed and released her fingers inside her gloves, the material creaking slightly from the movement, "Can you see any familiar markers?" She glanced over her shoulders towards her other fireteam members before looking back up towards Bulldog. "Any sign of the others?"

After a pause Bulldog called back down, "No ma'am, there is no sign of the others. This forest seems to go on for miles; I can't see the edge of it in any direction."

"Is he using his gun sight?" Her DAR rifleman spoke up from behind her, his voice sounding strangely muffled. "It'd be just like him to forget his gun sight down here."

Jaq looked over and frowned, "Hey don't eat anymore of those." Jaq pointed at the chocolate from his last energy bar still around his lips. "We don't know how long we'll be out here now that the situation's gone FUBAR on us."

Turkey nodded as he rolled up the wrapper and shoved it back into his day pack from where it hung on his flak vest. They all had day packs attached by a system of carabineers, but his was especially full of energy bars and wrappers considering the rate he ate them. He'd shoved his M249 behind his back, the barrel of the machine gun awkwardly pointing towards the sky as it hung from his three-point sling. Her grenadier Razor readjusted the M203 in his hands then reached out and swatted Turkey's arm.

"Thanks man." He glared at Turkey. "I wanted one too."

Jaq shook her head and left the two to duke out their issues and instead returned her attention back to the trees. Jaq couldn't put her finger on why the forest made her so uncomfortable. It could be the fact that the forest was so dark, murky almost, that Jaq had had to pull out her night vision goggles earlier. She'd heard the others do the same from where they'd trailed along behind her. It had made the going much easier and there hadn't been near as much stumbling once that they could see properly. Never before had she encountered a forest of such darkness, and she'd grown up in wild forests of Colorado.

But the eerie darkness aside, it could also be the fact that they were so isolated, seemingly cut off from the rest of their war game. That was what they'd been on patrol for, a simulated war game; the "graduation" ceremony for her fireteam before they were shipped off to the frontlines. None of her team had seen actual firefights—and she wished she hadn't seen near as many as she'd already had-and so as had become standard processing, they'd had to undergo their present war game simulation.

Their standard MARPAT uniform afforded them some camouflage in the strange forest surroundings and because of such she almost didn't notice that Bulldog had shimmied quite a ways down the tree just in the time it'd taken Razor to hit Turkey and her own thoughts to wander.

"Razor," Jaq looked back to her grenadier, "try headquarters again and Turkey double check your GPS."

She heard Bulldog drop down behind her and she glanced back to see him haul his pack back onto his shoulders. She gave him a nod of approval before signaling for him to check the perimeter one more time. They were standing in the closest thing to a clearing that they'd found within the past two hours of wandering in the damned forest and she wasn't about to be caught with their guard down if it happened to be a trap set by the opposing team. The captain of that team was the definition of an A-hole. Captain Caelin Walsh always seemed to be in competition with Jaq, finding any weak point she had and exploiting it. In some ways she appreciated the fact that it kept her on her toes, something very much needed when she wasn't on the frontlines and that kept her in battle readiness, but in others she rather wished Captain Walsh would take a long walk off a short pier. It didn't help that he oozed sex from every pore of his 6'6ft svelte body and that he knew in spite of her better judgement she found him attractive. The bastard. She wouldn't lose this war game to him.

"Headquarters isn't responding." Razor paused and scratched the back of his head. "And it's weird ma'am, but there's no radio traffic, nothing whatsoever. Not even satellite static. It's almost as if, well Captain, and I know this sounds crazy, but it's almost as if there are no other radios within the normal radius, as if there are no satellites to interfere with transmission."

Turkey shook the device in his hand then growled, "The GPS is still not responding ma'am. It isn't reading anything, much like what Razor said, as if there were no satellites to connect to."

Jaq studied her watch for a moment and the compass that sat within it. She pointed to the left, "That's north. Before the fog disoriented us, we'd been headed back towards headquarters and according to our last position it should still be just north of us."

She'd been just about to order a move out when Bulldog suddenly let out a cry of alarm and threw himself back into the clearing, his body sprawling on the ground nearby. Jaq was thankful for her elbow and knee pads when she dropped to the ground and rolled for cover underneath a nearby fern, Turkey and Razor quickly doing the same on the other side of the clearing, near some rocks. There was only so much dropping into a defensive position she could take without her pads.

When she looked over at Bulldog to check his status, Jaq felt a wave of nausea consume her after her initial shock and confusion. Bulldog was staring blankly at her as he lay on his stomach, blood seeping from his open mouth, a grizzly looking arrow embedded in his neck. She'd seen death enough to know that he no longer lived but that didn't stop her anger and confusion. This was supposed to be a war game dammit! Who in the hell had arrows in a war game?

"What-" her question was cut off when the undergrowth seemed to suddenly erupt with movement.

About a half-dozen disgusting looking creatures, as they were most definitely not human, threw themselves towards the clearing, emitting guttural cries and yelps, brandishing antiquated looking bows and arrows and clubs. Jaq cursed the fact that their weapons were filled not with real ammunition but with paint bullets. They would sting and surprise these creatures but not kill. No one was allowed to carry live rounds during a war game.

She quickly rolled over Bulldog's body, the arrow cracking from his neck as she did so, and moved closer to Turkey and Razor. Jaq crawled on her belly behind the rocks they'd dropped down behind. She ordered them to fire at will and together Turkey and Jaq surged to their feet and began firing at the creatures. Arrows whizzed by and bounced off the rocks in front of them but they continued firing, peppering the attacking creature's bodies with splashes of color. The creatures yelped and barked in surprise, four of them falling back into the undergrowth, and two of them staying on the ground—those had been the ones she'd managed to blind with a shot directly to the eye.

Razor's grenade launcher had blanks, enough to emit smoke and a loud explosion. He launched one of the blanks into the thick of the creatures and Jaq took some satisfaction in their scattering—fearful of the noise and smoke no doubt. They were given no time for celebration however when just as the smoke cleared four of creatures returned, angrier than ever.

"Fall back!"Jaq wanted to order, but where in the hell were they supposed to fall back to? Her AAR assist lay dead in the middle of the clearing and before she could utter another order Razor let out a squelching sound and dropped to his knees, clawing at the arrow that'd sliced through his neck. Her M27 magazine empty now and all the extra "ammunition" was in Bulldog's pack, she was left with little to fight with other than her wits.

One of the creatures surged towards her over the rocks, his arm pulled back in a deadly arc that, had she not blocked the club with her machine gun, would've crushed her skull. Her fighting instincts kicked in and Jaq jerked her arm and used the butt of her gun to flatten the creature's nose. As it pulled back to cradle the wound, Jaq quickly dropped down, unsheathed her Ka-Bar from her thigh, and surged back to her feet, driving the knife hilt deep into the creature's eye socket. It dropped lifeless at her feet, black blood coating her arm and the ground around it.

Jaq ducked down when another creature came at her, armed with a club as well. She parried the club with her gun, the creature backing her further away from where Turkey was fighting his own battle with the other two still-standing creatures. This creature was taller, stronger, than the last and, as he'd seen her moves before with his "friend," was more leery of her gun. He was quick in his movements but Jaq noticed that he favored his left knee, perhaps an older injury. She allowed him to continue his attack until she felt a tree near her back.

As he pulled back to deliver another blow, Jaq allowed gravity to do its work. She dropped to her knees, the club hitting the tree where her head used to be, and used her elbow to lay a driving blow to the creature's kneecap, then rolled away before he could swipe at her again with his club. He dropped down in a crouch, allowing Jaq to have the upper hand. She kicked up with her leg, catching the creature in the face with her steel-toed combat boot, and then when the creature lay sprawled on his back she followed his motions with her body and drove her knife into his heart, or where his heart would be if his anatomy was anything like that of a human despite his grotesque outer appearance. His body sputtered and convulsed but then lay dead.

Jaq quickly jumped to her feet only to let out a pained cry when an arrow drove itself deep into her left thigh, causing her to stumble back down into a crouch. She looked up just in time to see Turkey fall dead by Razor's equally lifeless side—he'd already bled out from his own wound—and the last remaining creature who'd killed him notching another arrow to finish her off as well. How had this happened, Jaq thought in the seconds before the arrow was to be let loose. How had a simple war game patrol shifted into the massacre of a fireteam? Jaq kept her eyes open, she wanted to stare death in the face, and watched the creature's hand pull back the bowstring.

Before he could release the arrow, Jaq heard, and felt, the whoosh of another arrow as it whizzed dangerously close by her head. The creature keeled backwards, the arrow and bow he'd been about to use against her falling useless at his side. Jaq looked over her shoulder to see four figures cautiously coming towards her, dressed in varying shades of green and grey outfits and all armed with bows—they reminded her of old Robin Hood TV shows and she felt the urge to laugh, quickly realizing that the blood loss from her thigh wound was making her giddy.

She didn't move from her position, especially when one of the figures, a man with long, white-blonde hair, drew up to her side, his arrow pointed at her head, while the other three moved towards her fallen comrades and the dead or stunned creatures. The man next to her quickly spoke and she could only blink at him. It was no language she'd ever heard before, and she could speak six. He continued to speak, his voice harsh and rumbling, and she shook her head to show she didn't understand. He didn't take his eyes from her as he addressed the others once she was able to convey her lack of comprehension.

Jaq heard two more yelps and looked over to see that one of the figures, another male, though he had black hair, had killed one of the creature's she'd earlier stunned, and was making ready to do the same with the other. The only female, a redhead, was moving towards Bulldog's body, her bow and arrow at the ready but not pulled back fully. The only other man, a brown haired one, seemed to be taking in the scene, silent and unmoving, from the middle of the clearing. They all had ridiculously long hair, long enough to make even the snobbiest of hippies proud-an image of the quartet sitting around smoking reefers had her near giggling again; the wound really was getting to her head.

She looked down and cautiously broke off the feathered tip of the arrow. Her thigh continued to seep, though the arrow head itself was keeping it from gushing. This didn't stop her from feeling woozy though and as gently as possible, considering she was at arrow-point, she shifted her position to sit down fully and take the weight off her wounded leg. She was completely unarmed now that her Ka-Bar had dropped from her hand—the arrow earlier had caused her to drop it; her only other knife was buried in her pack—that still hung heavily from her back—and even if she had her gun it'd be useless against these people.

The redhead was now leaning over Bulldog. Jaq watched as she nudged his body with her foot and Jaq had to fight the urge to curse at her. Her men deserved a proper burial, not to have their corpses kicked around by strangers. A wind suddenly picked up and because of it her hair waved about her head like mini snakes. Jaq sucked in a breath of shock when she noticed, for the first time, the woman's ears. With a quick glance, Jaq saw that all four of the people in the clearing had the same elongated ears. What the hell?! Was she hallucinating now too?

The man guarding her spoke again, this time his eyes moving from her towards the woman, and it sounded as if his patience was running out—Jaq hoped it wasn't his arm growing tired. Though she had no idea where the hell she was, who the hell these people were, and what the hell had happened, she wanted to live just like anyone else would. Situations could be adapted to, problems could be solved. She had no death wish. Her men deserved to have answers, their deaths deserved vengeance.

With this in mind Jaq finally spoke up, her voice low and gravely from the yelling she'd done earlier, "I mean you no harm." The man by her side snapped his head back towards her, his grip tightening on his bow. "I am unarmed. My men are dead. I am wounded. I can offer you no fight."

The brown haired man who hadn't taken action of any kind other than to stand in the middle of the clearing and stare at the mayhem, turned at the sound of her voice and carefully studied her. A moment passed, during which Jaq returned his silver-eyed stare with her own green one, before he spoke to the man at her side. His voice was softer, though just as firm, and Jaq felt that he could become an ally. The blonde man shook his head and gestured towards Jaq's knife but the redheaded female barked something in return from where she now crouched over Razor and Turkey and finally the blonde lowered his arrow and stepped away-she could still feel his distrust though. Jaq couldn't tell who the leader was, the brown headed man or the redhead, but she did get the feeling that one or both could be her ticket out of an early burial.

When the woman reached down and tugged at Razor's dog tags Jaq spoke up again, "That is his identification." She tugged at her own dog tags, though slowly, considering the man beside her tightened his grip yet again. "Please, don't take those." She dropped her hands and shook her head. "I need them to give back to his family." If she found a way back to them that was.

The woman looked over at Jaq a moment before she tugged the dog tags free of Razor's neck and then Turkey's. She called over her shoulder to the black haired man and Jaq watched as he bent down and pulled them free from Bulldog's body as well before tossing them to the redhead. Jaq tightened her hands into fists, not knowing if the woman had understood the importance of the tags or if she found shiny things appealing and wanted to keep them for herself. Her unvoiced question was answered when the woman drew near and unceremoniously dropped all three dogtags into Jaq's lap. Jaq quickly clasped them in her gloved hand, her eyes full of questions. Had the woman understood her? She slowly worked the tags around her helmet until they too hung from her neck with her own. She gave the woman a curt nod of thanks.

"Do you understand me?" Jaq fought against the fatigue that now tugged at her mind, the adrenaline from the fight beginning to fade away and be replaced by weakness from her wound. "What is to happen now?"

The blonde man growled out a few more phrases before the brown haired man shook his head and came closer. He dropped down into a crouch and after a pause reached forward and poked at Jaq's thigh. She couldn't stop the wince, or recoiling from his touch, but she did manage to keep her moan of pain relatively hidden in her chest. She'd learned long ago not to show weakness, or pain, if at all possible. She had a mental escape she could go to, and had gone to before, if torture was applied. But this situation was unlike any before in her previous deployments. These people, if they could be called such, and the creatures that'd attacked them, they felt as if they were from an another world entirely.

The brown haired man seemed to smile at her bravado and after making a comment to the red haired woman and getting a grunt from her in return, he pulled out a flask from a small pouch attached to his belt and uncorked it. He held it out to Jaq, a strong, herbal smell wafting out of it and reaching her nose once it was close enough to her face. If it was poison perhaps it would be swift and Jaq would know nothing else. She wouldn't have to live with the guilt of her team's deaths, wouldn't have to live with the guilt that she'd yet again survived a firefight while her men had not—was she cursed so? Captain Walsh had told her she was a curse to follow after her last deployment, being the only survivor of a brutal firefight. This had been her third team since she'd first been deployed years ago and each previous team had suffered major casualties, either from death itself or debilitating wounds, while she'd survived them all with relatively few injuries.

The guilt and fear of a curse did not render her desperate though. She didn't want to die from poison and leaned her head back, staring down her nose at the flask and then the man. He sighed and quickly took a swig from it before he held it out to her again. Jaq wasn't an idiot; she knew that assassins could build up tolerances to poisons and so was not reassured that the man had drunk first. However, her throat dry and her wound draining her of life blood with each passing moment, Jaq threw caution to the wind and received the flask.

She cursed the fact that her hand shook slightly as she held the flask against her lips and drank from it. The liquid was cool and definitely resembled an herbal tea in taste. She didn't drink much, just enough to quench her thirst and appease the man before her, and quickly handed it back to him once she was finished. He nodded his head, gave her another small smile, and after a moment returned the flask to his pouch, speaking as he did so.

"We will remove the arrow once we reach the Elvin Halls."

Jaq blinked in surprise. She'd just understood him.

"Lasdir," the blonde man spoke up from beside her, "we cannot risk it. He is a stranger and has the looks of witchcraft about him. Tell him Tauriel," the blonde looked towards the redheaded woman, "that this cannot happen."

Jaq frowned; "he" is a stranger? Did they think she was a man? Granted, with all the gear on, any feminine curves she might've had despite her athleticism were well hidden. She did have a strong jaw line and a square chin that could be considered fairly masculine; her nose was crooked from previous fistfights, and the jagged scar that traveled from her hairline down across her left eyebrow—compliments of shrapnel on her last deployment—had narrowed down the playing field considerably over the years. Her helmet hid her auburn hair, cropped short to keep it out of the way, but surely she wasn't so far gone in looks that these strange creature/people would think she was a man. Was she?

"Thirischon, there is nothing bewitching about him." The brown haired man, Lasdir apparently, looked up at the blonde, Thirischon, with a wry smile. "He bleeds as all men bleed and though he is dressed strangely he has made no attempt to attack us. His companions are beyond our aid now but he may still survive."

"What good would it do him to survive now?" The black haired man stepped closer, his eyes still searching the forest around them, but his attention was half on them. "He's trespassed upon our lands and that must be punished; his companions are dead and he has shamefully survived them."

"What man would not want to survive? Perhaps he has survived because he has yet to perform that which Valar requires of him." Lasdir spoke up again, his eyes coming back to rest upon Jaq. "He has trespassed upon our lands and in order to 'punish' him we had best take him back to the king for questioning. Though he appears to be not of our world, he still lives and as he is not a foe what good would it do us to leave him here, Orodion?" He glanced back at the black haired man as he finished and received a noncommittal shrug as an answer. "Perhaps our lord king would like to question him?" Lasdir directed this rhetorical sounding question to the woman Tauriel.

Tauriel circled around behind Jaq and when Jaq looked over her shoulder saw that the woman was studying her pack.

"Take this off him and empty it. If we are to take him back with us we must ensure that he has no more weapons."

Divested of her pack by the testy Thirischon, Jaq watched the creatures, she refused to call them elves despite their pointed ears and ethereal complexions, as they rifled through her pack. Soon the pile on the ground near her useless M27 and discarded Ka-Bar grew as they pulled out her extra AA batteries, her poncho and poncho liner, the ballistic goggles she insisted upon taking everywhere—even when she wasn't driving, her tool kit, flashlight, baby wipes, extra socks, and binoculars. Her other knife was pulled out last and she winced when Orodion dropped it on the ground beside her other one. It had been her grandfather's knife, from World War II, and though it had yet to bring her luck—unless her ability to survive thus far was luck—it was the only thing of value she kept with her in each deployment.

"There is nothing else, Tauriel." Orodion announced, dropping her empty pack beside her on the ground. "It grows late," perhaps he had an internal clock because the air around them had not darkened any more than when the fight had first begun in Jaq's opinion, "we should return."

Tauriel nodded, "Since you are so keen on giving him aid, Lasdir, you may escort him back to the Elvin Halls." She turned and started back in the direction they'd first emerged from, not bothering to look to see if the others were following.

Orodion quickly followed and after Thirischon gave Jaq another distrustful look he started off as well. Jaq moved slowly, reaching out towards the pile, and withdrew her grandfather's knife. Lasdir watched her movements with a blank stare but quickly gave her a smile when she kept it sheathed and handed it to him for safe keeping.

Curious if the drink had not only afforded her the ability to understand them but also the ability to speak to them in their own language Jaq spoke up again, "That was my grandfather's. I don't want to leave it."

Lasdir shook his head, as if to convey his own lack of comprehension, and Jaq sighed in defeat. She was grateful that Lasdir seemed so interested in her survival; she only wished that they'd arrived earlier. She kept her groans minimal as she dragged herself to her feet. Before she allowed Lasdir to lead her from the clearing she moved to Bulldog. She removed his helmet and placed it over his face then piled his hands atop his body. She moved to Turkey and Razor next and did the same. She was panting and sweating profusely by the time she was done with this and had to allow Lasdir to take her body weight when he offered his arm when she returned to his side. She hated leaving her men like this but she knew she shouldn't/couldn't push her luck with her captors/rescuers. Perhaps she would be granted the ability to return and give them a proper burial later.

"You won't be forgotten." She whispered to their corpses; the fear of being forgotten always one of the strongest to nag at the back of any man's mind.

Lasdir lead her away from her men then and deeper into the ravenous mouth of the dark forest.