Shadows of Angmar

by Mike Taurguss

Xena/LOTR crossover! Strange painful dreams begin to plague Gabrielle. What could they mean? Are they memories, or nightmares? Then, an unearthly storm wisks them away, depositing them in a world they could never have imagined...

1. Chapter 1

The Shadows of Angmar

"The wise general always places his assets in the most strategically adventagious positions, on order to maximize their effectiveness against the enemy…"

Shin-Chi-Mon

Concepts and Philosophies of War and Peace

Chapter 1

The robed priest extended a small wooden box towards Gabrielle.

"And for you," he continued. "Inside is something that you may find useful, someday."

"What is it?" Gabrielle asked, looking again at Xena for any understanding.

"Something that should only be used in your most desperate hour," the man answered cryptically. "Do not open this unless you have the utmost need. Can you accept that responsibility and truly honor it?"

Gabrielle sat upright with a start and a soft cry, the image of the strange priests' eyes still visible before her, like some sort of phantom.

Instantly, the figure next to her leapt up, a sword rang in the shadows of the dying campfire. Xena looked about quickly. Then her body relaxed and she looked back down at her friend.

"Another dream?" she asked, one dark eyebrow rising in annoyance.

Gabrielle nodded. "Sorry. I tried not to scream."

Xena sheathed her weapon and settled back down across the fire from the young bard. Her blue eyes studied Gabrielle closely.

Gabrielle was covered in a sheen of perspiration. Her normally golden hair was darkened by sweat and her breath was still coming a little quicker than it should.

"Want to talk about it?" Xena offered after a moment. She wanted to be angry at losing another full night's sleep, but seeing Gabrielle so disheveled and obviously frightened quashed that feeling instantly.

"It's like the other ones," Gabrielle replied. "Except this time, it had to do with something that was real." She reached into her bag and drew out the mysterious little box she had received in Cyerna, nearly a year prior.

"I saw that stranger, the one who returned your chakram to you?"

"Brother Mavon," Xena nodded.

"Yeah, him," Gabrielle nodded. "That was the last thing I saw before I woke up this time. I saw him giving me this."

Xena placed a couple more logs on the fire, and the flames leapt up hungrily. The scent of pine and a wave of warmth flooded over the tiny clearing.

Gabrielle took a drink from her water bottle and sighed, collecting her thoughts as she tried to place the images of her dreams in some kind of coherent order. Her fingers absently turned the box end over end as she thought. From within, something small rattled against the sides.

"A part of me really wants to know what is in here," she mused. "And another part of me is afraid that one day, we might have to find out."

Xena smiled. "Well, in the mean time, just remember what happened to Pandora when she got too curious."

Gabrielle smiled and placed the box back in her bag. Then she resumed staring at the dancing flames.

Xena watched Gabrielle's thoughtful expression and smiled softly. She could tell that something grand and intricate was coalescing.

"Alright," Gabrielle said slowly. "I remember a lot more detail this time, I think."

Xena nodded. "Go on."

Gabrielle folded her legs under her and held her hands up, as if gesticulating would assist in the formation of her words.

"Alright," Gabrielle said again. "I remember – I remember a shape. Like a shadow, it was of a man, I think he is, or was, a warrior, but the clothing he wore was really strange."

She blinked suddenly, as if someone had poked her.

"Strange how?" Xena asked.

"He didn't wear armor," Gabrielle explained. "He was dressed all in cloth, no leather, except, I don't know, maybe a dark vest. But his other clothes were colored like the leaves and branches in the trees, I think. And he wore a strange, cloth hat."

Xena stifled a smile. She knew these images were important, and she could tell by the feeling of angst emanating from her friend that Gabrielle believed it. Xena could see the frustration building. It seemed that the effort of remembering was actually causing the young bard physical discomfort.

"Calm down," she said softly. "You'll make it harder to remember if you get all worked up. Just let it come back to you slowly."

Gabrielle nodded and took a deep breath.

"Close your eyes," Xena suggested.

Gabrielle complied. She let out one last deep sigh of exasperation and then relaxed.

"Good," Xena said. "Now, tell me the first thing you see or hear. Even if it doesn't make sense."

"Okay," Gabrielle replied. She took a few more breaths and a gentle frown creased her forehead. She cocked her head to the side a bit, as if trying to hear an elusive sound.

"Do you hear a noise?" Xena prompted gently.

"Not noise," Gabrielle replied in a distant voice. "Not noise so much as music. Deep, rhythmic booming. It feels like it's inside me it's so loud. Fills the entire place."

"You're in a room?" Xena asked.

Gabrielle nodded.

"Can you describe it?" Xena went on. In spite of herself, she was getting rather taken in by the images Gabrielle was recalling.

"It's dark," Gabrielle said. She winced suddenly. "Blue lights flashing, and red beams of light moving all over the place….I see faces." Her expression tightened further, as if she were trying to push something free. "Faces in the shadows, but I don't know any of them." Her wince became more defined, as if she were fending off something uncomfortable. "I'm looking around, but I don't…I can't." She groaned suddenly as if the strain of the memory caused her pain. "It's a tavern, I think…but not any tavern I've ever seen before…Gods, this hurts…"

"Let it go," Xena said quickly. "Just let it go then."

"But there's something," Gabrielle replied stubbornly. "It's on the edge of my mind, I know it! I know this place!"

"Gabrielle," Xena said evenly. "Let it go. Go to something else."

Gabrielle opened her eyes suddenly and looked down at the dirt before her. She took a stick and began moving it through the loose earth.

"Something about…Gizmo," she said, almost in a whisper. "And a mother hen?" She looked up at Xena with an almost desperate expression. "I know this all makes sense somehow! I know it!"

She looked back down at the image she had scratched into the earth and her frown deepened. "And so does this…I think."

Xena stood and stepped around the fire to look at the symbol in the dirt. A simple figure eight pattern.

"That's the symbol for infinity," she explained. "Which is about how long it's taking you to go through all this?"

"Ha ha," Gabrielle retorted. Then she looked back down at the symbol.

Xena cocked her head to the side. "Or it could be the number eight." She offered.

"Copy, bay eight in nine hours," The deep, distinctly familiar male voice suddenly reverberated through her mind, as if it had charged through some invisible barrier in her brain.

Instantly, Gabrielle's hands clapped on either side of her head and she cried out.

"Gods!" She rasped. "I can hear them! I can hear voices bouncing around in my head!"
"Gabrielle!" Xena knelt before her.

Gabrielle reached out and grasped Xena's shoulder, trying to steady herself as she fought through the sudden burning in her mind and tried to relate the words she was hearing. She gritted her teeth and a growl issued from her throat.

Xena ignored the vise like biting of her friends nails in her shoulder. Gabrielle's face was contorted in agony.

"Just stop!" she pleaded. "Gabrielle, just let it go!"

Gabrielle's breathing came in fast gasps as the pain built in her skull like a pressure threatening to explode. At the same time, Gabrielle began rocking back and forth. Her lips moved automatically, and in a tight, agonizing voice that almost sounded like someone else speaking, she conveyed the words echoing in her mind.

"Tantarus Control, this is Phoenix Fire, on approach to bay eight. Please confirm?"

"Phoenix Fire, you are confirmed for bay eight. Approach vector six, switch to control beacon five, five."

"Confirmed, beacon five, five. Phoenix out."

"Coming in, bay depressurizing."

"When we leave here, stay at my side, no matter what, okay?"

"Gabrielle! Let's go!"

"Gizmo! You broke it! You fix it! I want my ship ready to go in eight hours! You check everything, double check it, and then do it all again, you got that? Eight hours! Or I take it out of your ass!"

With a final cry, Gabrielle fell sideways into Xena's arms, tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes opened, bleary from the pain ricocheting in her mind.

"It hurts," she gasped. "Gods, that hurts! I get close to it, like there's a wall in my head, and things are trying to break out!"

"Take it easy," Xena said gently. She stroked Gabrielle's hair and rocked her gently back and forth. "Just let it go."

"I can't let this go!" Gabrielle protested weakly. "This is important!"

"Give it a rest for now," Xena countered.

Gabrielle gave one more groan of protest and then felt the fire in her mind cool as she let the images vanish into the ether.

"Eyes," She whispered suddenly.

"Hm?" Xena looked down at her.

Gabrielle slowly sat back up. She reached into her traveling bag and removed her quill, ink, and parchment.

"The last thing I saw were eyes," she said. "Deep green but not mine! I think I saw someone's face!"

Xena was beginning to get concerned at the level of obsession Gabrielle seemed to be expressing. Yes, Gabrielle could be stubborn, but nothing like the driven anxiety she was seeing now. Her actions were almost manic. "Gabrielle, just let it go, will you?"

Gabrielle had the inkwell open and her quill was moving with manic speed across the parchment. Her eyes were unfocused, as if she were searching inward. It was as if she were unaware that her body was performing other actions. She drew at a frenzied pace, dipped the quill into the ink and resumed like someone possessed.

"Green eyes," Gabrielle was mumbling to herself. "Dark, like forest leaves, and hair…curly hair...long past the shoulder, and deep red, almost brown…it was like she was staring past me, or into me…into my mind…"

"Gabrielle, stop this!" Xena all but demanded. "Really! You're starting to frighten me!"

"If I look through her eyes…" Gabrielle continued in a whisper. "It doesn't hurt so much."

She reached over to confiscate the quill and parchment, but Gabrielle jerked the implements away with a determined hiss.

Xena pulled her hand back and sat down nearby. If this strange compulsion continued for much longer, she was debating whether or not to exploit a couple of pressure points and send the suddenly obsessive bard into a pressure point induced state of dreamless sleep.

"She was smaller than me," Gabrielle went on. It was obvious that she was wrestling within against some force that she couldn't identify. A determined growl escaped her lips as she fought through the agony to find the images she was seeking. "Yes! She was a she…quirky, outspoken, almost too friendly…and something about a drink she gave me…"

At that statement, Xena perked up. She began going through all the places they had visited recently, trying to remember if there were any female inn keepers that had served them in the past few days or weeks. She listed the places in her mind, and quickly dismissed them all. There had been no female innkeepers. There had been a couple of servers, but they hadn't seemed threatening, and besides, those places had been in villages or cities where they were either liked, or completely unknown. And in the final analysis, none of those servers had red hair, or had green eyes, for that matter.

The quill dipped again and continued tracing over the page, but the movements were much slower now, more deliberate.

When the quill came to a final stop, Gabrielle froze for a moment, as if transfixed at what she was seeing. It was as if she were beholding the image she had created for the first time.

"The naked fox danced across the glass of water," she whispered quietly.

"The…what?" Xena asked, now completely at the end of her patience. "What in Tartarus does that nonsense mean?"

Gabrielle turned the parchment around and showed it to her friend.

It was an incredibly detailed and lifelike image of a young girl or woman, with thick curly hair and delicate features. Her large, inquisitive eyes seemed to stare out of the parchment, like an apparition from their past, though Xena could never remember meeting her.

"We know this person," Gabrielle said with a certainty so calm, so cold, that Xena felt a shiver run up her spine.

"I don't know this girl," Xena replied. "I've never seen her before in my life." Even as she said the words, something in the back of her mind told her she was wrong.

"Xena," Gabrielle replied in that same, icy calm. "We know her. I'm positive."

Then she visibly relaxed, and turned the image back to her, frowning curiously. "Besides," she continued. "When have you ever seen me draw like this?"

She passed the parchment to Xena and sat back.

"I'd say," Xena perused the portrait a moment. "Never."

"Exactly," Gabrielle pointed a finger at her. "Stick figures and smiley faces, that's about all I can do, and still, I draw that in, what, twenty minutes?"

"Try five," Xena replied, studying the image closely. "I have to admit, there is something about this person that seems familiar."

Gabrielle blinked in surprise. "Five?"

"Uh huh," Xena said, passing the image back to her. "And you blurted something about naked foxes and water."

"I did?" Gabrielle replied uneasily.

"You don't remember saying that?" Xena asked.

Gabrielle shook her head. "What did I say?"

Xena thought for a moment. "The naked fox danced across the glass of water. You don't remember saying that?"

Gabrielle frowned. "Stop that."

"That was what you said," Xena said evenly.

"But that doesn't make any sense!" Gabrielle protested. Then she sat back and thought for a moment. "Or it does, and we just don't know what it means."

"How can that mean anything?' Xena asked. "It's just gibberish."

Gabrielle pondered for a moment and then she jotted the words down on the parchment, beneath the picture.

"It could be some kind of code," she offered. "A hidden message."

"How could that be a message?" Xena challenged. "The words mean nothing."

"Maybe not," Gabriele admitted. "But the letters could be rearranged. It could be a completely different phrase or word."

Xena raised her eyebrows at that. She hadn't considered that possibility.

"Okay, genius," she offered. "Every code has a pattern. Since this is something that you obviously heard somewhere, perhaps you know the pattern to break it as well?"

Gabrielle looked down at the words again. Then she pulled a fresh piece of parchment out of her bag and copied the phrase down a second time.

In spite of the alarm that Gabrielle's outburst had caused, Xena smiled as she watched her young friend ponder the phrase, here and there jotting down characters in an attempt to form new phrases.

If there was one thing that Gabrielle couldn't refuse, it was a mystery. Puzzles and challenges were the things that fed her insatiable curiosity.

She let Gabrielle work on it in vain for a long time before she finally let out a sigh.

"It's gibberish, Gabrielle." She finally said. "It doesn't mean anything."

"It has to!" Gabrielle protested.

"We need to get some rest," Xena finally said in a tone that was almost motherly. She reached over and snatched the parchment from Gabrielle.

"Xena!" The young bard protested.

"Whatever it is," Xena offered. "You don't have to solve it tonight. We have a long road tomorrow. Get some sleep."

"Just let me work on it for five more minutes," Gabrielle offered.

Xena smiled. "Nice try. Sleep!"

With that, she rolled over, effectively turning her back on Gabrielle.

"Xena!" Gabrielle protested. "This could be important! This could be something big!"

"Only if I'm a naked fox," Xena replied.

Gabrielle fixed her with an icy look and then angrily crawled back under her own blankets.

"And she wonders why I don't like talking about these things in the first place," she complained just loudly enough for Xena to hear.

She spread out her blanket and crawled in, curling up comfortably. As sleep slowly came over her, her eyes glazed slightly.

"If I could enter it into the computer and run a decryption sequence," she said automatically. "We'd have it cracked in a few seconds."

With that, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

When day broke, Gabrielle and Xena rose and resumed their travels. They had no particular destination in mind, just the usual meanderings that fate dictated.

Ordinarily, Gabrielle would be pressing to begin some sort of conversation or debate regarding subjects that ranged from the mundane to complex.

This morning, however, Xena noted the icy chill that her usually talkative companion was silently radiating.

She bore the frost for a couple of hours, to her credit, before she finally stopped in the middle of the path.

Gabrielle paid no mind to her halt and continued forward. Xena planted her hands on her hips and sighed.

"Fine," she said. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Gabrielle halted, but did not turn to face her friend.

"I'm sorry I didn't take you more seriously last night," Xena relented. "You might be right. Those images and that girl you drew could be important."

"They are important!" Gabrielle turned back and looked at Xena intently.

"Fine, fine," Xena held up her hands in surrender. "They are important. I just don't see how? And that strange phrase you quoted when you finished that drawing. I have no idea what that means?"

"I don't either," Gabrielle replied. The frost vanished, replaced by her usual, excited curiosity. "It's a mystery that we need to figure out."

"A riddle involving mother hens, a naked fox, water, and a number eight?" Xena ticked off the few facts that came to her mind. "A part of me doesn't want to know how all those tie in together."

"Xena," Gabrielle sighed. "Haven't you ever had that feeling, deep down in your gut that tells you that you're on to something?"

"It's called hunger," Xena smiled.

"Don't start," Gabrielle shot back. "You were doing real well for a moment."

"Sorry," Xena smiled. "Couldn't resist. Besides, it is about time for lunch anyway."

They found a sheltered spot in a grassy glade near a clear pond. The scent of wildflowers filled the air and the sunlight rippled golden yellow in the water.

The two decided a swim was in order, and they each disrobed and dove into the cool water.

Gabrielle floated lazily on the water, her eyes fixed on the deep expanse of blue sky above her.

Suddenly she was splashed from the side.

"Hey!" she protested.

Xena laughed. "You were getting that look again. I had to stop it."

Gabrielle sent a small fountain of water back at her best friend.

"I was thinking!" she complained.

"That's what I meant," Xena teased. Then she looked at her hands. "Okay, I'm pruning. Time to get out."

A short time later, they sat next to the edge of the water, munching on a meager meal of dried fruits and bread.

Again, Gabrielle had that introspective look on her face.

Xena smiled. "Alright. You may as well share."

Gabrielle blinked. "Hm? Sorry, I was just thinking."

"I know," Xena nodded. "Share?"

"Oh, just working through something that's been bugging me for a while." Gabrielle replied.

"That whole, naked dancing fox thing?" Xena rolled a hand forward.

Gabrielle shook her head.

"Cyerna," She replied.

Xena winced. "Why are you thinking about that place? It was a disaster."

Gabrielle nodded. "Something about that whole thing has bothered me ever since we left there."

"Gabrielle," Xena said evenly. "That was almost two years ago. Are you telling me that you've been thinking about that place for the last two years?"

Gabrielle shrugged. "Off and on. But that dream last night got me thinking about it again."

Xena shrugged, "Brother Mavon?"

"Xena," Gabrielle said evenly. "Have you ever considered what happened before we got to Cyerna?"

"Not really," Xena shook her head. "We went there to help the people out, but someone beat us to it and dropped my name to avoid the credit. That's all."

"Really?" Gabrielle's sly smile began to slink across her lips. "That's all?"

"I hadn't really thought much about it," Xena replied a little tersely.

"Then consider this," Gabrielle said. She began ticking points off on her fingers.

"First, we get there and the whole army of Alsydius is wiped out, but there aren't any bodies of the army that fought them. Second, someone or something totally destroyed that castle. You remember the small lake where the castle used to stand, right?"

"I remember."

"Third," Gabrielle continued. "Some time that previous night, someone sneaks in and steals your chakram, but leaves everything else behind, why? And lastly, there's me."

"You?" Xena replied. "What about you?"

"Think about it, Xena," Gabrielle leaned forward. "What kind of shape was I in when we left Thessalonia?"

"You were on your feet," Xena replied. "You weren't a hundred percent, but you were healing."

Gabrielle arched an eyebrow. "Healing? How did I look the night before, compared to when we woke up the next morning?"

Xena thought back, remembering that fateful night, when the traveling from Thessalonia to Cyerna had finally sapped the last of the injured bard's strength.

Xena stopped chewing her food as the images came back to her. Gabrielle had been pale and weak, almost delirious. She had been breathing in shallow rasps, almost like death rattles. She couldn't deny it. Her best friend had been on deaths door that evening. Then suddenly, the next morning, she had awakened refreshed and completely healed, as if nothing had happened.

She looked up at Gabrielle in astonishment.

The young bard's smile grew and she began to nod. "You see?"

"Okay," Xena shrugged. "So one of the gods intervened. It isn't like they've never done that to us before."

Gabrielle was shaking her head before Xena finished the rebuttal.

"I checked," she said. "The last time we ran into Aphrodite, I asked her. No one came to our rescue from Olympus, or anywhere else as far as she knew. I'll tell you something else too. We weren't asleep for just one night either."

"Really?" Xena arched an eyebrow. "And how long were we asleep, then?"

She raised her cup to her lips and drank.

"Three and a half days," Gabrielle replied simply.

Xena choked in mid gulp. The rejected liquid burst from her mouth in a surprised fount.

"What?" she coughed.

Gabrielle only smiled and nodded. "I date all my scrolls when I start them. It kind of helps me keep track of the time we spend together. I started a new one the day we left Cyerna. I wrote the date out on the top, like I always do, but later, I discovered that it was three days behind. Cyerna is the only place that I could have lost count of the days."

"Okay," Xena sighed. "Say I believe this wild idea. Who would do it and why?"

Gabrielle shook her head. "I don't know. But I'm willing to bet that my dreams have something to do with it."

"The whole naked fox and water thing again?" Xena asked.

Gabrielle nodded. "I just need to figure out how it all ties in together."

"If you can tie a naked fox, a glass of water, a mother hen, and a strangely dressed warrior in a cloth cap into a three day gap in our history," Xena said with a wry grin. "Then I'll be dropping you off at the first sanitarium we can find."

"Ha ha," Gabrielle replied.

"Okay," Xena relented. "Then tie it all together for me."

"I can't," Gabrielle admitted. "Not yet." She finished quickly. She removed the cryptic parchment from her bag and studied it again.

"But tonight, maybe I'll get another clue."

"When you sleep," Xena said.

"Exactly," Gabrielle replied.

They finished their meal and resumed their march. The conversation of the afternoon was dominated by the various brainstorms that Gabrielle would occasionally offer up as partial or complete explanations of the mysterious events two years past.

Where Xena would rather have let the whole issue rest, Gabrielle seemed unwilling or unable to do so.

"What if we were kidnapped?" she offered at one point. "Kidnapped by demons and taken to the underworld, or drugged and forced to commit some horrible crime?"

Xena sighed.

"Kidnapped? Drugged?" She repeated.

"Explain the chakram then?" Gabrielle challenged. "We went to sleep that night, and you had all your things with you. Then we wake up and suddenly, the chakram is gone, only to be returned by this Brother Mavon when he gives me this." She held up the small wooden box.

Suddenly, she stopped. "What if he managed to steal it somehow? To make it easier for us to trust him when he gives it back to you and then hands me this." Her eyes went wide with childish imagination. "And then secretly, he's given us something that could destroy the entire world as we know it, because he knows that we get into all kinds of trouble, and occasionally, we need help. We get into a bind, I open the box and the next thing you know, there's this terrible plague that wipes everyone out!"

"Do you come up with this stuff on your own?" Xena asked. "Or are the Fates bouncing around din that head of yours?"

"I'm serious!" Gabrielle protested. She shook the box gently and heard the contents rattle within. "Or maybe it's a key." She resumed. "A key to a treasure that could save the world or destroy the world, depending on who opens it."

"And this Brother Mavon gives it to you because, why?" Xena replied, smiling. "Because you're the last righteous person on earth?" She stopped for a moment to get her bearings and then pointed. "This way."

They both stopped when they heard the distant sound of rolling thunder behind them. Turning, they saw the line of dark clouds moving towards them. Spots of pale bluish green flashed amidst the heavy clouds.

"Oh, great," Xena sighed.

Gabrielle nodded. "We're going to get wet."

"Hail, Princess Obvious," Xena retorted with a smile. "Come on. Let's see if we can get a shelter up before it starts. At least we might be able to stay somewhat dry."

The two of them jogged deeper into the surrounding wood and began to gather branches to make a shelter.

They found a place, near two fallen trees. The trunks rested against a third, even larger one, providing a large piece for them to shelter in. It was even facing the right direction.

Quickly, the two women began lashing the smaller branches together and affixing them to the trunk in one large sloping sheet. The wind began to blow more strongly and the sun vanished behind a wall of shadow. Everything changed from brilliant color with a deep shade of gray, and then a sickly green.

"It's going to be a big one!" Gabrielle shouted over the rising wind.

"No kidding!" Xena replied, quickly finishing their shelter. She threw one of her skin blankets across the lattice and tied the corners down just as the first large drops began to fall.

"Perfect timing!" Gabrielle cheered as the two of them ducked beneath the tree trunk.

The wind howled around them, and rain battered the roof of their make shift lean to. They huddled on the ground, shivering as the temperature plummeted and the humidity began to seep through to their bones with an unholy chill.

"This sucks!" Gabrielle complained.

"Better than being stuck out there!" Xena replied, pointing out at the windy expanse before them.

Then the two of them blinked in surprise. Through the swirling debris and the sheets of rain, they each saw the shape of a person, struggling through the maelstrom.

"Someone's out there!" Xena shouted.

"That's crazy!" Gabrielle replied. Then she saw the figure again, struggling against the wind as it weaved a staggering path just beyond the row of trees closest to their shelter.

Xena didn't hesitate. She ran out into the storm, calling for the person.

There was aloud cracking sound, and she saw a branch break free and come plummeting down towards the hapless figure ahead.

"Look out!" she cried, and she leapt forward. Her arm wrapped about the narrow shoulders of the figure and the two of them toppled forward just as a large branch crashed down where the stranger had been standing.

Xena quickly helped the stranger back up.

"We have a shelter nearby!' she shouted. "Come on!"

Gabrielle was just about to go out into the storm after her friend when she saw Xena and a second figure emerge through the wind and the rain.

"Come on!" she shouted. "Over here!"

The stranger collapsed within their shelter, breathing hard.

"Thank you," A soft wizened voice said. She was a small, older woman, with soaked gray hair and sharp blue eyes. She smiled at them kindly. "I was lost, and then this storm started, and I didn't know what I was going to do."

"Do you live near here?" Gabrielle asked.

The woman considered for a moment and then shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Where were you going?" Xena asked.

"Oh, just moving about, you know," she replied evasively. Her eyes gazed out at the storm around them and she sighed. Green lightning flashed about them and the thunder roared like some unholy monster.

"Thank you so much for saving me," she continued. She reached into the folds of her waterlogged cloak and handed something to Xena.

Xena shook her head. "It's alright," she smiled.

"No," the old woman replied. "This is for you. I was told that this is for you, and only you."

She pressed the objects into Xena's hand and closed her fingers around it.

The lightning flashed again, blindingly close.

"Move back!" Xena ordered, scooting further beneath the protection of the fallen tree.

The three of them moved as far back as they could. Then the world flashed an unholy green around them and suddenly, Xena felt herself flying through the air.

A light, brilliant and yellow, burned her eyes and she saw golden grasses rushing forward to meet her.

"Gabrielle!" she shouted. Then she struck the earth hard and the world went black.

Xena rolled painfully over onto her back, seeing the sunlight behind her eyelids in a brilliant red. She raised a hand to her eyes, shielding herself from the sudden blinding light. She must have been unconscious for hours if the storm had completely blown over.

"Gabrielle?" she managed to croak. "You okay?"

A soft painful groan came from off to one side.

"What was that?" Gabrielle asked a few moments later. "I feel like I just got thrown from a chariot, and then run over by it."

"I don't know," Xena replied. The young bard's description of her discomfort was accurate.

She opened her eyes and saw deep, cloudless blue sky above her.

Sitting up, she found herself lying in the middle of an endless expanse of gently rolling hills. The entire horizon was covered in tall waves of golden grasses, and the setting sun shone red in the western sky. Here and there, pale gray stone rose from the earth, and to their left, Xena could see the distant jagged peaks of mountains.

"Where in Tartarus are we?" she asked aloud.

Slowly, Gabrielle got to her knees and looked about in growing confusion.

She surveyed her wet clothing and the dry ground around them. "Did the storm blow over?" she asked. Looking up, she saw the wispy remnants of clouds moving lazily across the face of the setting sun.

Xena looked down at her soaked clothing and then at the dry ground around them.

"Must have, though I don't get this," she indicated herself. "If we were lying out here long enough for the ground to be dry, then we should be too."

Gabrielle checked her supplies, hoping against hope that her spare clothing had escaped the inundation. Unfortunately, everything within the bag as well as the bag itself was laden with water.

"It's going to take hours to dry all this stuff out," she complained. Then she looked around them at the vast rolling hills and plains.

"It could be the hills near Corinth," Gabrielle offered.

Xena smiled. "What is it with you and Corinth?" she asked. "If we end up in the mountains, it's the hills near Corinth. In the woods, it's near Corinth. Out here in the middle of nowhere, we're near Corinth. If I tell you to run away, you tell me you won't stop till you reach Corinth." She chuckled and resumed surveying the surroundings. "It's always Corinth with you."

Gabrielle shrugged. She began removing her clothing and stretching it out on a nearby rock to dry.

"I like Corinth," she muttered quietly.

They stayed for the afternoon, allowing the sun and the warmth to dry their garments and relax the soreness in their joints.

A quick scouting of the surrounding lands revealed nothing but endless rolling plains as far as the eye could see. Off to the East, she could see the hazy shape of mountains, and more, closer peaks rose from the earth to the North.

They sat down to a meager supper of dried meat and fruits as Xena contemplated their next course of action.

Gabrielle recognized Xena's thoughtful expression and remained mostly silent for the remainder of the afternoon.

Once their belongings had dried out, they repacked their supplies and got ready to continue.

"So," Gabrielle said as she shouldered her small traveling bag. "Which way?"

Xena scanned the distance, seeking some inspiration. High above, they both heard the cry of an eagle as it circled lazily on the wind. It cried again and the wheeled slowly towards the east and vanished.

Xena shrugged. "Let's follow him," she offered. "We'll set up camp in a little while, before it gets too dark."

Gabrielle nodded in agreement and the two of them began moving off through the fields.

As they continued throughout the day, Gabrielle began to notice something strange about her friend. It seemed that Xena was slowing down. Her usually ruddy complexion seemed paler than usual, and it looked as if it were getting worse.

At one point, Xena stumbled and nearly lost her footing.

"Hey?" Gabrielle asked as she caught her friends arm. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Xena replied. "Just a little dizzy. Probably from whatever hit us. I'll be fine."

Gabrielle looked at her friend closely. "You're sure?"

Xena smiled. "I'll be fine."

They continued until the sun had nearly set in a deep magenta haze behind the distant hills. Then they found a smooth patch of land and spread out their sleeping rolls. The stars emerged, pale and silver in the velvet sky. In a matter of moments, Xena had a small, merry fire crackling. The two of them held their hands out to the warmth.

As Xena rubbed her hands together, her gaze turned upwards and she frowned.

"That's strange," she commented. "There was no moon last night." Her eyes locked on the large pale white disk floating above them in the heavens. "And now, all of a sudden, we have a full moon?"

Gabrielle stopped her preparations and scanned the heavens. Her frown deepened as she searched in vain.

"I can do one better," she replied. "Why are the stars wrong?"

"Wrong how?"

Gabrielle smiled. "I know most of the star constellations in the sky, and I can't find a single one of them. It's like someone moved everything out of place."

Xena leaned back against a large gray stone, still warm with the heat of the passing day.

She let the warmth penetrate her skin and closed her eyes. "Well, we can't do anything about the stars. We'll figure it all out in the morning."

Gabrielle sighed and leaned next to Xena, staring up at the sky in wonder.

"You have that look again," Xena said, smiling as she watched Gabrielle's expression.

"Just thinking," Gabrielle replied automatically.

"That's the one." Xena countered.

Gabrielle gave her a sarcastic smile in response, and then turned her eyes back up towards the heavens.

"Mistress Gabrielle, Mistress Xena, I would like to congratulate you both on being the first individuals on your entire world, to leave it."

Gabrielle blinked as another quick needle of pain jabbed the inside of her skull with the unbidden memory.

"You okay?" Xena asked.

"Yeah," Gabrielle winced. "Just another little twinge."

"Like before?" Xena asked. Her friend nodded.

"I feel like I should remember something, but whenever I try, it's like someone or something just pulls the memory out of reach. It's like seeing someone that you know, but you can't recall their name no matter how hard you try. It's on the tip of your tongue, but you just can't say it."

Xena was about to reply when a noise off to one side of their camp caught her attention. Instantly, she was alert, her hand on her sword hilt, and her eyes scanning the growing shadows.

Her head turned quickly at another sound, barely audible, yet distinct. Like a snuffling, or perhaps a muffled growl.

Gabrielle heard the second noise and also tensed. She reached down and slowly lifted her staff, feeling the comfortable grip of the smooth wood in her hands.

"Trouble?" she whispered.

"Knowing our luck," Xena nodded.

Xena's senses screamed, and she reached over, grasping Gabrielle by the shoulder and yanking her away from the stone just as a shadowy figure leapt over it with a snarling howl.

Xena's sword flashed up and connected with the steel of the assailant's weapon. There was a spark, and in that flash of light, Xena beheld a creature she could never have imagined.

She pushed the shock out of her mind and attacked.

Howls and roars erupted all around them. At least thirty of the figures charged at them from all directions.

Xena stabbed the first attacker through the chest, feeling the blade punch through thick hide armor before biting the softer flesh beneath. The creature howled in pain and fell away.

Xena turned back towards Gabrielle, who struggled against three of the figures. Their eyes glowed yellow or red in the fading light, and the air was filled with a vile odor. She saw the gnashing of pointed yellow teeth.

"Gabrielle!" Xena shouted, but two more of the creatures suddenly blocked her path. She went mad with fury and cut them both down only to be confronted by another, and then another as she was driven further and further away from her friend.

Gabrielle did her best to defend herself, but her staff was no match for several sword wielding brutes that were much taller, stronger and more savage than anyone she had ever faced before.

She caught one of them with a solid blow across the side of the head, and felt the staff ring against a metallic helm of some kind. The head boggled to one side and back, fierce red eyes fixed on her with wrath.

"Not good," Gabrielle backed away and ducked before another creature swung a huge, black bladed sword, nearly taking her head off.

She came around and swung the staff again, this time, sweeping the legs of another creature out from under it. It went down with a howl and even managed to trip up several others, giving Gabrielle a crucial few seconds to get back a few paces. Off to her left, she could hear Xena crying with fury as she fought her own desperate battle. Then another figure charged her. She raised her staff in defense, only to have another heavy sword smash through the hardened wood with a crack.

Gabrielle improvised, swinging the two halves of her broken weapon like clubs now, and beating the creatures back.

A quick glance at a small, nearby rise, found another figure, even larger than the creatures she was fighting, standing and directing the battle. In one hand he held a large, wicked looking bow. A quiver of long arrows hung at his hip, and he was drawing one of those arrows, notching it to his bow and looking right at her.

"Bow!" Gabrielle shouted, trying to warn Xena.

The creature drew back and released. The arrow whistled through the night, straight at Gabrielle's chest.

On pure instinct, Gabrielle raised one of the broken sections of staff and felt the arrow strike the wood. The impact sent the staff recoiling up and striking her in the face. She staggered back, dazed and shocked, but still alive.

"I did it," she managed to gasp as she turned. She thought she heard Xena scream, and then she felt it. It was like something pressed against her side for just a moment, and then it ripped into her body, sending a flash of white hot pain all the way down to her toes.

The face before her wasn't even close to human. Narrow yellow eyes glared at her behind a short, misshapen snout. Long yellow teeth leered hungrily at her, and the foul breath hit her as hard as the knife that she knew was in her side. The creature was dark skinned, or perhaps it was just that filthy.

She felt her legs give out and she dropped to her knees in shock.

The world slowed, as if time itself were stretching out the final moments of her life. She looked up and saw Xena smash through two more attackers in a desperate charge to save her life. She was battered and bleeding in several places. Her eyes were alight with a fury so powerful that it seemed to make them glow. Gabrielle smiled even as the creature raised a wicked looking sword for the killing blow.

Xena cried out in horror as another attacker smashed into her from behind. She wheeled in a lethal move, running it through between the shoulder blades, but the damage was done, she went down even as she tried to hurl the chakram in one final attempt to save her best friends life. Then several of the creatures were upon her, weapons raised to hack her to pieces.

Gabrielle felt the ground tremble beneath her. She saw the weapons rising to kill her friend, tried to rise, to summon one final burst of energy in order to act, but her body refused. Looking up at the creature before her, she saw him poised to strike, frozen, with wide yellow eyes, then the creature toppled to the side, and she saw the arrows protruding from its back. The white feathers on the shaft gleamed like silver in the starlight.

More silvery shafts fell among them, and the creatures howled in surprise and fear.

The mob around Xena fell away or bolted. The ground shook, and Gabrielle saw figures of men on horses charging through the rising mist. Another hail of arrows descended upon them before she saw the men draw swords and gallop through the enemy like a tide washing over the seashore.

Those few that did manage to turn away felt more arrows bite their flesh, while the few stalwart ones who turned to fight were trampled or fell cloven by sure, quick strokes.

Then the men were past her and she was alone. Absently, she wondered how they had missed riding down upon her by accident. Then the world tilted and she knew no more.

Gabrielle looked up at the face of the soldier. He was a young man, with fierce dark eyes and a thin shadow of stubble on his face. He held the crossbow calmly, the arrow pointed at her chest.

"Alright, alright," Gabrielle said in surrender.

"Get up," the man commanded. Gabrielle slowly got to her feet, feigning a stumble to her right. She sat down on the tree and rubbed her leg.

"My leg is numb," she lied.

The man took several steps forward.

"I have him." A strange voice echoed in her ear

"You don't have to do this," Gabrielle said neutrally. "Just turn around and walk away."

"Shut up and get to your feet!" The soldier barked.

"Goodbye," the strange voice said.

"Goodbye," Gabrielle repeated, and then the man's head seemed to explode from the eyebrows up. The spray covered the foliage behind him. He stood there for a moment, then his eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he collapsed in a quivering heap.

"Target is down," she heard the voice say simply.

Gabrielle's eyes snapped open, the image of that soldiers face fresh in her mind.

"Xena?" she said in fright.

Several men stood or knelt around a nearby fire. Beyond them, she could see the shapes of horses standing patiently.

Keen eyes turned to look at her. The men were dressed in leather armor, and they all wore helms of polished steel. Many of them had bows and quivers at their backs.

One of them, a tall man in armor more intricately crafted than the others, knelt beside her.

"Your companion has taken hurt," he said evenly. "She lives, but she has yet to awaken."

Gabrielle tried to sit up and felt the fire knife through her side. Reaching down, she felt the bandages resting against the wound.

"Your injury has been tended," the man said, stopping her hand. Then his gaze took on a slightly sterner expression.

"Who are you? And how is it that you have come to wander in my lords' domain without leave?"

"My name's Gabrielle," she said wearily. "And my friend is Xena. We didn't know we were in your lords' domain until you just told me. We don't know where we are."

The man frowned at that. "Where were you bound?"

"Nowhere in particular," Gabrielle replied. "We were just moving on, and there was this storm, and then we woke up here."

She looked over and saw Xena, lying wrapped in blankets, with a bandage wrapped across her forehead. She looked pale in the firelight.

"Where are you from?" the man continued.

"Xena is from Amphipolis," Gabrielle explained. "And I come from Poditea. We've been traveling together."

The man stared at her, and Gabrielle felt his searching gaze penetrate her very soul. He was seeking signs of duplicity. Finally, he sighed.

"The names of your kingdoms are unfamiliar to me," he admitted. "For my part, I am Breggolard, the Fourth Marshall of the Riddomark."

Gabrielle felt weariness descending upon her again.

Breggolard smiled. "Had my men and I not found you waylaid by Orcs, we would have taken you for spies."

"Orcs?" Gabrielle frowned.

"Yes," Breggolard replied. "My men and I were tracking them, in secret, from the north until we heard the sounds of your battle. In truth, we thought that you might be one of the messengers of Gondor, sent by the King."

Gabrielle shook her head apologetically. "Sorry."

Breggolard smiled. "It is of small concern. Take some rest. In the morning, we will continue to Edoras. From there, once you have healed, you may continue on your way."

Gabrielle nodded again and closed her eyes, slipping back into strange and unfamiliar dreams.

Gabrielle was awakened the next morning by the sensation of fingers gently touching her. She opened her eyes and discovered another man gently and efficiently changing the bandage on her wound.

"Good morning," he said in a gentle baritone. He smiled. "I was hoping not to wake you while I tended this." He shrugged. "The wound is not large and should heal well in a few days."

"Thank you," Gabrielle replied thickly.

The first couple of days of traveling with these strange men were spent on a bier constructed of warm cloaks and blankets and dragged behind the sure footed horses of the riders.

By the third day, Xena had still not regained consciousness, but Gabrielle's strength had returned. She walked alongside the horses, and by the end of the fourth day, was riding one of her own.

They made camp that night at the crest of a large flat hill amidst a sea of golden grasses.

Gabrielle sat patiently on a smooth raised stone, while her new friend, a middle aged man named Hallas, checked her wound.

He smiled behind a thick layer of fiery tainted whiskers.

"You heal quickly," he said with a nod. "Faster than most with an injury such as this."

Gabrielle shrugged, ignoring the subtle twinge of discomfort the movement caused.

She looked over at Xena, still lying pale and unconscious. Now, a thin sheen of perspiration was visible on her forehead.

"How's my friend?" she asked anxiously.

"Not well," Hallas replied grimly. "She was badly hurt when we got to you. Her fever began last evening and is getting worse. If it does not break by nightfall, I am going to request that I and several others head to Minas Tirith instead of Edoras."

Gabrielle frowned. The names meant nothing to her. "Don't you have healers in your home?"

"Indeed," Hallas nodded. "Yet the healers of Minas Tirith are the most gifted. I fear that your friends' wounds are beyond the skill of our best."

"Is she going to die?" Gabrielle managed to ask, though the question seemed reluctant to emerge from her, as if stating it would somehow grant it the power to be so.

Hallas gave her a grim, but reassuring nod. "If we get her to the healers in time, I think she will live."

"I am not comfortable with the prospect of you traveling with a wounded woman all the way to Minas Tirith, unprotected," Breggolard said a little while later. Hallas had informed him of his concerns regarding Xena, and his desire to seek treatment elsewhere. "In truth, the road would be treacherous enough, even if you could travel it quickly by horse. But encumbered as you will be with the Lady Xena, it may bode very badly for you. If none of Lord Aragorn's messengers have arrived from there, then we must assume that the Orcs have moved far enough south of the Isen to cut us off from Gondor."

"My Lord," Hallas replied earnestly. "We do not even know if our original messengers ever arrived in Gondor. It is possible that Gondor did not even receive our word. In either case, another effort should be made, and since the Lady Xena requires healing that only the Lords of Gondor may provide, it is only right that she be taken as well."

Breggolard held his hands up beseechingly. "I did not say that I did not agree with you. I am merely concerned that you may run into trouble that you will be ill prepared to handle. In the least, I deem that the Lady Gabrielle should not accompany you until we know more."

"Not happening," Gabrielle interjected. "Where Xena goes, I go. If you're taking her to this Minas Tirith, then I'm going with her."

Breggolard smiled. "You have great courage," he said. "And more than a little fire. Yet I do not think you understand your peril. I can spare only a handful of my men to accompany you. Should you encounter the enemy, it may not be enough to protect you."

Though the statement was well meant, Gabrielle felt a sudden ferocity that bordered on insult.

"Xena and I have been in worse scrapes than this!" She blurted out. Then she stopped.

"Sorry. I'm worried about her, and I won't be separated from her. It's that simple. If this place is where we need to go to help her, then I'm going, with or without you. Just point me in the right direction."

Both Hallas and Breggolard raised eyebrows in an expression that blended amusement and appreciation in equal measure.

Finally Breggolard sighed. "It is against my liking, but I shall grant you leave to accompany the men to Minas Tirith." Then he held up a hand. "Should I learn otherwise from my king, I will send riders to return with you, is that understood?"

Gabrielle nodded.

"Then it shall be so," Breggolard turned and whistled to one of the other men standing nearby.

"Branno," he ordered. "Select four men to accompany Master Hallas and the wounded. You will make for Minas Tirith as soon as all can be prepared."

"My Lord," Branno, a young golden haired man of fair features, turned and quickly began shouting for several others.

The men began setting aside provisions for the journey. Weapons were checked and strapped to their saddles. Several men donated arrows for the escorts' depleted quivers.

As the sun set, the contingent was prepared to set out at dawn the following day.

The men settled in to sleep, rolled up in their cloaks. The horses stood nearby stamping patiently or dozing.

Gabrielle sat next to Xena, her fingers clasping Xena's hand.

Xena's face was covered in sweat, and she mumbled in her stupor.

Another figure knelt opposite. Gabrielle looked up and accepted a cool cloth from Hallas.

"She is dreaming in her fever." He commented.

Gabrielle only nodded.

Hallas studied the wounded woman critically for a moment. "I have often wondered," he began slowly. "Where the soul wanders when the body has taken such hurt."

Gabrielle shook her head. "I was wounded a few years ago," she said. "And I can't remember much, except that I was in a place completely unfamiliar to me. It was like another world." She stopped suddenly and winced as another bolt of pain rifled through her mind.

Hallas looked at her in concern. "Are you unwell?"

"I'm fine," Gabrielle said, waving the concern away. "Sometimes it hurts to remember."

Hallas nodded. "I understand. I, too, have painful memories of my past." He checked Xena's wounds and began changing bandages. "Perhaps that is where the soul wanders when the body has taken hurt. It goes to those places we dare not imagine, because the memory is too painful."

Gabrielle shrugged.

Hallas paused for a few moments and then sighed. "Encumbered as we will be with your friend," he explained. "We are looking at a five day journey to the Pelannor." He placed the used bandages into a small bag. "I shall try to make the journey in less time, as long as your strength holds, and we can ensure the safety of your friend."

Gabrielle nodded. "I understand."

Gabrielle was awakened in the small hours before dawn. She hadn't even realized that she had fallen asleep.

"It is time," Hallas said.

Gabrielle's horse, a tall, proud mare, was brought over and the bier holding Xena was placed against the horses flank. The coat of the animal was a deep gray, accented by pale white. When she moved, it was as if clouds writhed across her frame, like gathering thunderclouds.

Hallas patted the mare's strong neck and smiled. "This is Storm." He said. "She is a proud animal, but gentle. She will bear you and your friend safely and smoothly on our journey."

Gabrielle nodded gratefully.

Once the bier was secure and Gabrielle's meager supplies were packed, Breggolard called them over to him.

"Be wary on your road," he said. He turned and presented Gabrielle with a bundle of clothing and armor and a small helm, such as the men of the Rohirrim wore. He also presented her with a sword in a battered leather scabbard.

"Your weapon was broken in the battle," he offered. "I have none but this to replace it. Take these as a gift of the Rohirrim, Gabrielle Sunmane. I have known you for precious few hours, and yet I see in you the grace of the Shield Maidens of Eol. May the spirit of Helm the Hammerhand protect you on your journey."

Gabrielle accepted the gift and nodded. Though she didn't know the meaning of the titles, she knew she was being granted some form of honor, and the looks of the men standing around her only reinforced that impression.

"Thank you, Breggolard," Gabrielle swallowed. "Thanks for everything you've done for my friend and I."

Breggolard nodded. "We shall ride north, and a little east, in order to guard your flank for a time, before returning to Edoras."

He turned and, along with the other men in the company, a full thirty in number mounted their horses. Breggolard donned a helm of silver and steel.

"I bid you good speed," he nodded to Hallas. Then he wheeled his horse to face the rest of his men. "We ride north!" he called in a clear voice. In one body, the entire company wheeled their mounts and thundered away.

Gabrielle watched the riders vanish over the rolling hills, feeling the thunder of the hooves reverberating in her belly.

Hallas stepped up beside her. "It is time, My Lady."

Gabrielle nodded. She tied her new gear to the saddle and climbed astride Storm, looking back to check the fastenings of the bier one last time.

Hallas also mounted his horse, a large, powerful chestnut charger.

"Branno!" he called. "We ride due east, along the path of the Riddomark, to Minas Tirith!"

"Sir!" Branno replied. With a wave of his hand, the seven horses turned and began their journey.

The sun shone across the endless expanse of gold as the company moved east. The hills rose and fell behind them.

As they rode, Gabrielle examined some of the items Breggolard had presented to her.

"Hallas?" she asked. "What did he mean when he called me Sunmane?"

Hallas smiled.

"We saw you fighting, just before you were struck." He said. "As he beheld you, he made mention to me of how well you fought. A sentiment to which I agreed. Later, while I tended to your wounds, I mentioned that your hair shone golden, like the sun, even in the night. A sentiment to which My Lord Captain agreed." He offered a somewhat sheepish smile. "So shall you be named in the halls of Meduseld, to King Eomer. Gabrielle Sunmane, friend of the Eolingas."

Gabrielle felt a flush on her cheeks as she absorbed that. Then she smiled. "Sunmane," she said, as if tasting the word. "Sunmane. I kinda like that."

Storm carried Gabrielle and Xena quickly and smoothly, just as Hallas had said she would. She seemed to instinctively know where to turn and walk to avoid various small ruts and blemishes hidden in the waving grass.

They stopped late in the day for their only meal and then continued until deep into the night, under the light of the moon.

Their second day was much like their first, and their third was the same. On the afternoon of the fourth day, the company came across the remnants of a camp.

A small fire pit rested, the ashes long cold, and nearby, the tattered remains of two modest tents rested half toppled on the plain. The color of the tents was a rich green trimmed in gold, and the remains of a banner fluttered on the end of a spear, planted as a standard near the larger of the two tents.

"This does not bode well," Hallas commented. "Verily, these are the tents of the emissary that was dispatched to Minas Tirith several weeks past."

He nodded to Branno, and the young man led the rest of the company into the camp, while Hallas and Gabrielle stayed behind.

A short time later, Branno returned. His face was grim.

"There is no one in the camp, sir." He turned and pointed at a pair of men. "We found the bodies, there beyond the tents, hewn by many strokes."

He presented the torn banner to Hallas.

Hallas nodded. "Tend to the fallen, and see if you can discover who did this."

Branno nodded. "Only Orcs are this vicious, sir. Yet there are no bodies of the enemy, no trace of their coming or going."

"If the Orcs have come this far south into the Wold or Rohan, then we must take advantage of Lord Breggolard's march. We will continue once our comrades have been laid to rest."

"Sir," Branno nodded and returned to the rest of the company.

Gabrielle urged Storm into the camp and dropped to the ground.

The spear that had served to fly the banner stood upright in the earth.

Gabrielle inspected the shaft of the weapon critically for a moment before returning to the horse and drawing the sword that Breggolard had given her.

With two swift strokes, she had severed the head of the spear and removed it from the ground.

The impromptu staff was a little longer than she was used to, and only a bit heavier, but the wood was hardened like iron and balanced well. She replaced her sword and spun the staff in a few practice arcs.

Hallas watched this with a curious expression.

Gabrielle shrugged. "I'm not much into swords?"

Hallas stared at the sky and then off into the distance.

"We are nearing the great plain of the Pelannor," he offered. "We should reach it by late morning tomorrow."

He mixed some herbs into a small bowl and began, like he had every day of the journey so far, to clean Xena's wounds. Xena's eyes opened while he worked, and for a moment, they thought she might be waking. But then Gabrielle saw the dreamy, dull look in her eyes and knew that Xena was somewhere else.

Xena's eyes looked up at Hallas with defiance, but no recognition.

"Had enough yet?" She asked. "It'll take more than that to break me you spineless bastard."

Then her eyes rolled up and her head collapsed back against the small rolled bundle that served as her pillow.

Gabrielle froze in shock. The expression on Xena's face had been one of tortured resignation. It was as if she were expecting someone to kill her outright, not save her life.

Hallas also stopped momentarily, somewhat shocked by his patient's words.

"Then again," he offered grimly. "Perhaps it is better if one does not know where the soul wanders when the body is failing."

For the first time during the journey, his face began to show frustration.

"I cannot understand this," he finally said. "The Athelas was culled no more than a fortnight ago. It should still be quite potent, and yet, it is as if it does nothing for your friends' injuries."

Gabrielle simply shook her head in confusion.

"If I didn't know better," Hallas continued. "It would seem to me that your friend does not wish to be healed."

"Xena's a warrior," Gabrielle replied. "A fighter. She wouldn't give up, no matter what."

"Were the blades of these Orcs poisoned in any way?" she asked suddenly.

"Indeed," Hallas nodded. "It is their way, yet I have already countered that. Or so I thought. But this fever is unlike anything I have ever seen in my experience."

He continued his inspection. "We must reach Minas Tirith very soon." He finished. He seemed to be considering for a moment, then he waved Branno to him.

"Sir?"

"We will take our meal here," he said after a few more moments. "Tell the others we will ride through the night to Minas Tirith."

"Very good, sir," Branno replied smartly.

And ride they did, as quickly as the riders and the land would allow. Gabrielle could feel that even Storm, her mount, could sense the urgency of the situation.

The moon rose pale and brilliant amidst the sea of stars. Its pale light shone silver against the grass and made the weapons of her companions shimmer like glass.

Shadowy hills rose and fell before them. The ground slowly settled to something more flat, until Gabrielle could see an endless silver horizon stretching out before her. At the edge of her vision, she could just make out the deep purple shadows of distant craggy mountains. The night air was cool and fragrant and it revived her as she rode.

Gabrielle watched as the moon slowly arced through the deep twilight until it was beginning to descend back towards the earth. Suddenly, she could feel a weariness settle upon her. She yawned deeply and blinked a few times, fighting the sudden grogginess.

"Are you well?" Hallas asked from beside her.

Gabrielle smiled and nodded. "Just getting sleepy."

"We are nearly there," Hallas nodded to a small cleft in the landscape.

"Beyond that rise the land descends into the valley of the Pelannor, and beyond that, you shall see Minas Tirith, the City of the Kings."

In spite of the urgent errand, Gabrielle felt that familiar surge of curious excitement and anticipation that she got whenever she discovered something for the first time.

The momentary weariness vanished and a smile touched her lips even as she looked back to check on her best friend.

The smile vanished.

Xena was pale, almost pasty, in the silver light of the moon. Her expression was the same, a tortured look that sent a chill up Gabrielle's spine. The sweat on her brow glistened and she turned her head slightly as Storm tread past various depressions both seen and unseen. Had she looked that bad the night before they arrived in the ruins of Cyerna?

"We have to hurry," she said in a hushed voice.

"Indeed," Hallas replied. He also studied Xena for a moment. Then his face went grim and he looked at the distant lands before him.

With a quick kick of his heels, his horse trotted ahead to walk next to the one ridden by his lieutenant, Branno.

The two men exchanged hasty words, and then, with another, sharper kick, he galloped of into the pale distance. The hooves of his horse thundered away like a rolling storm.

At the same time, Gabrielle noticed that their little formation was turning away in a more southerly direction.

They were also quickening their pace a little. Storm nickered in protest as her pace increased. She turned her large head back and looked at the figure on the bier behind her, and then her thoughtful dark eyes fixed again on the ground before them.

They passed over a small rise and Gabrielle suddenly understood the reason for the change in direction. Down below she could make out the line of a well worn road moving from the west and continuing eastwards toward a single, pale gray mountain of rock.

Gabrielle's eyes went wide with amazement and her jaw went slack.

Nestled into the living gray rock of the mountain were the shimmering white rings of a massive city, rising from the floor of the valley beside a wide river, and rising up seven levels to the large flat peak. A single massive piece of smoothed stone extended from the peak, like the prow of some gargantuan ship. The entire one twinkled in the night with lights from countless torches, candles and fires. Banners fluttered on silvery poles as large stone buildings rose nearly touching their inner neighbors on the next tier up. It looked like an enormous pale crown had been set against the wall of rock.

"Oh, Xena," Gabrielle breathed when she finally found her voice. "I wish you could see this. That is a city!"

As she gazed in wonder at the place, she saw several figures emerge from the main gates. Two torches twinkled near them as they rode out away from the massive stone wall. They turned and began traversing the path of the rode, crossing a large stone bridge and continuing towards them.

The sound of their hooves reached Gabrielle's ears and she frowned. It was more than one horse and they were coming towards her at suicidal speed.

"Master Hallas returns!" Branno shouted, bringing the company to a halt next to the road.

Gabrielle watched as the small group approached. Now she could make out the small wagon attached to Hallas's horse. It bounced and creaked madly behind him.

Behind the wagon came two more men dressed in fine robes. They were older than Hallas, and clearly uncomfortable with the pace. Still, the trio arrived mere minutes later.

The wagon clattered to a halt and Gabrielle saw that it was lined with several blankets and hides.

"Help me get her into the wagon," Hallas ordered as he jumped from his mount.

Branno dropped to the earth and the two men unhooked the bier from Storm's saddle, lifting the semi conscious Xena onto the wagon.

The two men that had followed Hallas also climbed in and began examining Xena's injuries.

Hallas smacked their two horses on the rumps and sent them galloping back towards the city.

"We ride with haste to the Houses of Healing," Hallas said as he climbed back upon his horse. "We are expected, and the King requests your presence upon our arrival."

He looked pointedly at Gabrielle.

Under that look, Gabrielle suddenly felt a little uneasy. Then she realized that his earnest expression had more to do with the condition of his patient than the summons by the King.

Hallas nodded to the others and turned the wagon about before heading towards the city at a smooth but swift trot.

The rest of the company followed down the long gentle slope into the Pelannor and towards a pair of the largest gates that Gabrielle had ever seen in her life.

As they neared, Hallas reached down and took up a silver horn upon which he blew a long, clear two note call. The horn blast was echoed by a reply, and then the large gates slowly began to swing inward.

The rough worn path gave way to smooth paving stones as they came within the shadows of the massive bastions that towered on either side of the gate.

As Gabrielle trotted past the entrance, she saw that the gate itself was several feet thick, made from wrought iron, and carved in the images of tall kings in shining armor. The entry arch alone was more than forty feet deep. The horse's hooves clattered and echoed in the short tunnel. Here and there, the metal shoes struck sparks against the cold, pale stone.

They emerged from the entry arch and into a paved courtyard dominated by the statue of a man on horseback, holding a drawn bow in his hands. About the marble base were graven many symbols that Gabrielle had to assume were writing, though she couldn't decipher them.

Tall pale stone buildings stretched up all around her, and people moved about here and there, going about their various businesses.

Gabrielle was numbed by the effort of taking it all in.

"Gods," she breathed as Storm turned a complete circle in the courtyard. "This is amazing."

"My Lady!" Hallas called to her. She turned and saw him at the entrance to a wide street that climbed up along the side of the hill face.

"The Houses of Healing are on the sixth level!" He called. "Follow us!"

With that, the five horses and the wagon clattered up the hill and around the switchback.

Gabrielle forced her shock aside and spurred her horse after them.

Her ears popped as she wound her way up the long avenues before turning back and ascending the next wide street. Once they passed the second level, they were forced to pass through the massive outcropping with each subsequent rise, so that she was able to gauge the half way point on each level when they reached the next tunnel.

As the levels went up, the length of the central tunnel through the massive prow of the city also increased.

Finally, after much popping of the ears, they came around the final switchback, passed through the last tunnel and drew to a halt outside a large, ornate stone structure.

Two ladies, dressed in fine white gowns, trimmed in a darker color that may have been blue, stood waiting near the entrance to a courtyard that led into the building itself.

They required no urging from the company when the wagon creaked to a stop before them. The two men that had been working on Xena the entire way dropped lithely to the ground and then the two ladies picked up the bier and they bore Xena into the courtyard and to the main building.

"Hey!" Gabrielle called after them. She dropped to the ground and rushed after them.

A strong hand caught her arm, spinning her around to face Hallas. His face was covered in a fine layer of dust from the road, and his shining helm was dulled from many miles. He looked at her with keen, pale eyes.

"You must be announced to the King before anything else," he said simply. "Let us attend to that now, and then you may join your friend."

Gabrielle extricated her arm from his grip and nodded.

The wagon was removed from Hallas's horse, and the two of them rode up the final switchback towards the magnificent stone spires of the castle.

A livery man took charge of their mounts when they arrived. They passed through a marbled archway and into the large paved clearing before the palace.

Here and there, small fountains bubbled and gurgled merrily. The flat pavement extended from the front entrance of the palace all the way to the furthest tip of the rock outcropping, thousands of feet above the valley floor providing an incredible vista of the surrounding land for many miles in all directions.

Before the steps that led up into the palace, there was a single large circular patch of grass, and within the center of that circle stood a tree, a sapling really, tall and straight, and covered in pale blossoms.

Gabrielle pondered the tree for a moment, trying to place its species, but she had no success.

"That is the white tree of Gondor," Hallas offered, seeing her interest. "I am no lore master, but I know that the King knows many tales including the origins of this tree which is the symbol of the Kings of Numenor."

Again, the names and lineages carried no meaning, but the reverence with which Hallas spoke of the tree led her quickly to realize that it was important.

They ascended the steps onto a long columned area and paused before a massive set of dark wooden doors. To either side stood two guards dressed in silver and black, wearing whining helms with filigreed white wings protruding from the sides. Each held a long spear in one hand, a shield slung at their back, and a sword hung at their sides. They turned their eyes on the travelers.

"Stay," one of them commanded. "Here you must set aside your weapons."

Hallas unbuckled his sword belt and set it against the wall. Gabrielle did the same with her staff.

The Guards looked at them for a moment and then turned smartly and pulled the massive doors open.

Hallas gestured before him. "This way, My Lady," he offered with a nod.

Once inside, Hallas removed his helmet and let his long brown hair fall free about his shoulders.

The first hall, like the outer wall, was of polished white stone. The floor was of marble that alternated from black and white, and polished to a glassy sheen.

All along the corridor was lined with fine benches, statuary, or tapestries.

Huge windows lined one side, filled with glass of many colors. They sparkled in the bright moonlight like jewels.

With every step she took further into this strange new land, she felt herself slipping deeper and deeper into a sense of awestruck wonder.

The pair finished their walk down the hall and came to a second set of dark wooden doors. Two more guards pulled the doors aside, and they entered another chamber.

This one was almost like a cathedral or temple. The ceiling rose to a huge height, supported by finely hewn stone arches. Columns lined either side of the hall, and between them, carved in dark stone were the images of kings, all standing erect and proud, their cold dark gaze turned towards them.

At the far end, on a low platform sat an ornate, dark chair, not a throne by any stretch of the imagination, but a simple, albeit well crafted and comfortable looking arm chair.

Above that, on a raised dais sat a man on an actual throne. He was clad in varying hues of blue and silver, and upon his head rested a crown of silver.

Someone spoke behind her, but she didn't hear the words.

The king, he was obviously the king, was a strong featured man, with long dark brown hair and beard. His eyes were a pale blue gray like freshly polished steel. Those eyes were fixed upon her, and she perceived through the numbness an air of polite expectation.

"Gabrielle?" the voice said again, and this time, Hallas touched her on the arm.

"Huh? What?" Gabrielle started. She took a deep breath suddenly, and realized that in her amazement, she had forgotten to breathe. "Oh, sorry." She turned her gaze again to the king and desperately tried to keep her wits intact.

The king leaned forward slightly as they approached.

"Greetings," he said in a soft, gentle baritone.

"My King," Hallas replied, stepping quickly to Gabrielle's side and dropping respectfully to one knee.

The king smiled and rose, stepping down to greet his guests.

"Rise," he said amicably. Then a gentle frown of recognition came over him as he stared at Gabrielle's companion.

"I know you, do I not?"

"Indeed, My Lord," Hallas smiled. "Hallas, son of Hama, My Lord."

The king smiled, and instantly, Gabrielle felt as if the chamber had warmed.

"Of course," he said. "Hallas. I remember you well. It is a long time since we stood at Helms Deep together."

"Nigh on twenty years, My Lord Aragorn." Hallas replied. "I am honored that you remember me."

"How are you?" The king asked. "What news of the Mark, my good Hallas?"

"I am well, My Lord," Hallas replied. "Though, the rest of Rohan does not fare so well. Am I to understand that none of our messengers have gotten through?"

The king shook his head. "We have heard no word from Edoras in some months. In fact, I was about to send riders to Meduseld to discover if all was indeed well."

Hallas sighed. "All is not well, My Lord. We have, of late, been accosted by Orcs from the North. We have also lost all contact with your Steward, Gowardred, at Isengard. We sent riders to investigate, but none have returned. My King Eomer seeks your aid and council in these matters."

"And how is it that you were able to make the journey, if it is so fraught with peril?" The King asked.

"My Lord, Breggolard," Hallas explained. "Has taken his company North and East in a diversion to draw off any of the enemy that may have been watching our road. I truly believe, My Lord, that it was this action which opened the way for us."

"Breggolard is a noble man," The King nodded. "His skill and courage are well known."

"My Lord," Hallas continued, gesturing to Gabrielle. "I present to you, a traveler – The Lady Gabrielle, called Sunmane. She and her companion were waylaid by a company of the Orcs that I spoke of. It was her companion that I have brought, with much haste, to your Houses of Healing. While I know not the lands from whence they came, they do have the favor of my Lord and Captain."

He looked at Gabrielle. "My Lady, the Lord Aragorn, High King of Gondor and Anor."

Gabrielle was breathless when those piercing eyes turned upon her again.

"Um, hi," she managed to whisper lamely.

The King smiled graciously and nodded.

"Forgive me, My Lord," Hallas continued. "But her companion has taken a hurt that is beyond my skills to heal. I brought her here because I could not think what else I could do for her. She is weak and burning with fever, even though I have been able to counter the Orc poison and treat her wounds. I would not ask this if I knew of any other way, but…"

"Take me to your companion," The King cut him off.

"Thank you, My Lord," Hallas bowed his head. "She is within the Houses of Healing."

"I shall attend her within the hour." The King replied. Then he looked at Gabrielle again. "And while I do so, I shall also hear your tale."

This time, Gabrielle managed a slight nod of the head when she spoke.

"Sure thing." She replied nervously.

Gabrielle watched in awe as the King tended to Xena's wounds. His hands moved quickly and with practiced ease. His eyes watched everything. No movement was wasted or unintentional. Still, when all was done, Xena remained unconscious and feverish.

While the King had been tending to her, Gabrielle had relayed their story to him with as much detail as she could recall.

Aragorn stared down at the woman, his brows furrowing in thought. "I do not understand this," he said. "I have treated many with wounds more dangerous than these, and they have always recovered. Even if they had been unconscious when I began, I could see signs of their recovery almost immediately. This is unlike anything I have ever encountered."

"Is Xena going to die?" Gabrielle asked.

Aragorn offered a small smile. "Not if it is in our power to prevent it, Lady." He studied her for a moment and his expression softened. "You have had a hard road, and weariness hangs heavy upon you. I shall send you a guide to take you where you may find merriment and refreshment within the city. Take some rest here, with your friend."

He stepped aside, relinquishing the chair near the bed.

"Thank you," Gabrielle replied automatically. She seated herself and took Xena's hand in hers. She didn't even hear the King depart.

"Hey," she whispered in a soft voice, half hoping Xena would wake up. "Okay, you've had your fun. Time for you to wake up now."

Xena made no indication that she even heard Gabrielle's words.

Gabrielle smiled. "I know you can hear me, Xena," she whispered. "I heard about it when we were in Corinth six months ago. Yup, there's Corinth again, popping up in our conversation." She smiled. "I was speaking to this man, who said he had heard that unconscious people can hear the voices of those who talk to them. He told me that sometimes, the voices of those we love actually help guide a sick person back. I think he's right, so I'm just going to keep talking, okay?"

She leaned down, staring at Xena's face. "Besides," she continued. "When we were in the Temple of Isclipius, I heard you calling to me when I died, so I know you can hear me." She reached out and gently wiped the perspiration from her brow. "If this is your way of getting even with me for scaring you then," she continued. "Well, it's working. Besides, all these warriors and kings are more in your line of work than mine. You've always been better at dealing with people like that than I have. You'd have a ball with all these people here. And you know what? I think Hallas and you would really hit it off. He's tall and strong – not bad looking either, when you stop and think about it. And he's a warrior, just like you are. I think it would be a good match." She grinned. "In fact, if you don't wake up right now, I'm going to start playing matchmaker on you."

Again, she paused expectantly and again, Xena made no reply.

"Okay," Gabrielle sighed. "You asked for it. I'll get to work on him as soon as I can find him again."

Xena's head turned slightly and a soft moan escaped her lips.

Gabrielle held her breath. Her heart was hammering in her chest, but Xena's slight movement was all that was forthcoming.

"All right," Gabrielle smiled. "That gets you an extra day, but if you don't wake up by tomorrow evening, I'm going to work on him for you. You'll need someone to show you the sights around here."

Her eyes turned towards the nearby window, and beyond that, the courtyard of the Houses of Healing. Beyond that, the city of Minas Tirith fell away towards the valley below.

"You don't know what you're missing," she continued. "Just seeing this place from the ground, rising up in the moonlight like a ghost, shrouded in mist and gleaming in the moonlight like pearl. Now that was something. But being here, in this city, and seeing the land beyond from way up here? I can't tell which is better?"

Gabrielle leaned back down and watched Xena for a moment. The emotion that was contained within her heart began as a pressure within her chest, slowly working its way up into her throat.

"You have to wake up, Xena," she said in a shaky voice. "There's too much going on here for me to handle all alone. I need you."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and behind it, the emotions began flowing.

"I need you to be here to see all this wonderful stuff. I don't want to see all this and not be able to share it with you." Something like a wave of panic rose in her gut. She took a few deep breaths and forced it down.

"That's one of the things you showed me," she smiled even as she cried. "Panicking doesn't do you any good. But you better wake up, or I just might."

"Um, excuse me, Miss?" A soft, tentative voice said from behind her.

Gabrielle turned to look, and found a short man standing near the arch. He was only a little taller than half her height, with sandy blondish brown hair and sharp dark eyes. He wore a pair of brown breeches, simple cream colored tunic, and a yellow embroidered waistcoat.

The first thing Gabrielle noticed, besides his diminutive stature, was that, unlike everyone else in the city, he wore no shoes and his bare feet were unusually hairy, almost furry in appearance. He had a somewhat timid, almost apprehensive expression on his face.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss," he said in a pleasant voice. "But I was told to come and fetch you, and take you to get something to eat."

Gabrielle smiled and wiped the tears from her eyes. "That's alright. I'm fine."

"Ah, yes, well," The little man replied with a cough. "Strider was most insistent that I accompany you."

"Define insistent," Gabrielle retorted.

"I don't get a meal unless you come with me, Miss," the little man answered quickly. "And trust me when I tell you, Strider isn't one to make demands as this, lightly." Then the man smiled a perfectly mischievous smile. "Besides, trust a Hobbit to find the best food in a place like this. You go alone and you mind wind up with old bread and hard tack. Not enough to fill up the corners, as we say back in the Shire."

The Hobbit's expression was so earnest that it bordered on comical.

Suddenly, Gabrielle laughed. It was an outburst of tension and anxiety that finally released itself, and she felt more at ease the instant it happened.

"What's your name?" she asked.

The Hobbit stepped into the room and then executed a very formal bow.

"Merriadoc Brandybuck, at your service and your family's," he said cheerily.

"Gabrielle," Gabrielle extended a hand.

The young hobbit took her hand and shook it firmly.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Gabrielle," he said with a smile. Then he gestured to the open archway. Beyond were the figures of two attendants, presumably there to keep watch over her friend.

"Shall we?" Merriadoc asked.

Gabrielle preceded him out of the chamber and down the hall towards the entrance.

"Where are we going, Merriadoc?" She asked as they stepped out onto the narrow street before the house.

The Hobbit winced. "Merry, if you please. I hear the formal name so often in the court that it weighs on my ears, if you take my meaning?"

"Merry," Gabrielle repeated. "So, which way?"

Merry tapped the side of his nose and turned down the hill. "This way, Miss Gabrielle. Follow me."

They wound their way down towards the first switchback, and then the hobbit made a sharp turn into a narrower side street, continuing forward until he found a small pale building with an arched doorway. While the whole of the city was clean, this tiny back alley entrance seemed somewhat dingy by comparison. Still, it was cleaner than most places she and Xena had frequented back home.

There was a deeply carved wooden sign hanging on a protruding bar, just above the entrance. Upon it were the image of a large hammer and a pair of blacksmith's tongs.

"Welcome to the Hammer and Tongs," Merry said with a theatrical air. "It may not look very appealing, but the food is excellent and the ale is potent." He grinned.

The two of them entered the narrow door and climbed up a stairway to a second entrance. The sound of rowdy merrymaking echoed in the hall.

As they turned the narrow corner and entered the tavern proper, Gabrielle was assaulted by the sounds, lights and smells of a drinking house in full flourish.

People crowded the counter or sat at wooden tables worn smooth by years of use.

The entire place was filled with the scent of beer, meat, and smoke all in a mixture that was surprisingly appealing. Suddenly, Gabrielle felt her stomach rumble in anticipation.

When she looked down at her guide, the small Hobbit was standing on his tip toes trying to see through the throng of people. His head turned from side to side as if searching for someone in particular.

"A friend of mine was supposed to meet us here and get a table for us," he explained. Then he resumed his survey of the room.

Suddenly an earsplitting whistle sounded from the opposite corner, and the entire place fell silent. All eyes turned to another hobbit standing on a table. His fingers were still in his mouth and the whistle died as all eyes turned to fix on him expectantly.

He was similar to Merry in build and dress, although he was a little slimmer and his waistcoat was of green instead of golden yellow. At present, his cheeks were flushed almost scarlet.

He offered a nervous smile to the crowd.

"Sorry," he said, shuffling his feet nervously. Then he gestured quickly to Merry and Gabrielle.

Merry sighed. "Pippin," he grumbled. Then he smiled and gestured to his embarrassed counterpart. "This way, Miss."

They wormed their way through the crowd of people as the volume of noise once again began to rise.

Here and there, Gabrielle caught snatches of news from countries she had never heard of before, or bits of unfamiliar songs. Occasionally a voice would drift by, speaking in some exotic language that she could not identify. And above all this, laughter and merry making provided a constant hum of noise.

They reached the table, where the second hobbit now sat, smiling in greeting.

"I couldn't think of any other way to get your attention," he offered.

"A table by the door," Merry chided him. "I told you to get a table by the door."

"I would have," the other replied. "But they were all taken when I got here."

Merry gestured to his friend. "Miss Gabrielle," he introduced. "This is Peregrin Took, my cousin. Pippin, this is Miss Gabrielle."

"How do you do?" Pippin greeted her with a broad grin.

A man came by and plunked three tall mugs of frothy ale in the center of the table.

"Ah," Merry sighed. "That's more to my liking."

Gabrielle pulled one of the flagons toward her and sniffed curiously. "What is this stuff?" she asked.

"This, my dear," Merry said entranced. "Is a pint."

"Of what?" Gabrielle asked again. The stuff smelled strongly of alcohol and somewhat bitter.

"Ale," Pippin replied. Seeing her look of displeasure, he nodded. "Granted it isn't as good as the ale they brew at the Golden Perch near Bywater in the East Farthing, back home in the Shire, but it suits when it needs to." He smiled and lifted the heavy mug with two hands, taking a long drink.

Cautiously, Gabrielle took a sip of the stuff. The foam tickled her nose and then the bitter alcohol burned her throat.

She sat back and coughed.

"I know how you feel," Merry said "It has a tendency to be rather harsh the first few times, but you soon get used to it."

The man was huge, almost massive as he towered over her. His skin was a deep coffee color and his massive frame was knotted with muscle. He was bald, with deep penetrating dark eyes. A roll of something smoldered between his teeth. He was looking at her with a mixture of compassion and amusement.

"It always hits you hardest the first time," he said in a deep rumbling voice.

Gabrielle started as another spike of pain jabbed the inside of her skull.

Her two companions looked at her with sudden concern.

"It isn't that bad," Merry offered.

Pippin, however, had a more thoughtful expression on his face. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Gabrielle winced and rubbed her temple. "Fine. I'm fine," she replied. "Just tired, I think."

A large plate of food was suddenly set before them and the concern vanished from the two hobbits expressions, replaced with a simple and innocent joy.

"There we are," Merry said in ecstasy. "Please, eat your fill." And without waiting, he began cutting at the large section of ham in front of him.

Gabrielle ate, all while observing her two hosts. They ate and ate in a way that Gabrielle couldn't fathom, being that the one called Merry was the taller of the two and he was no taller than her middle. They ate like men three times their size.

After nearly an hour she could bear it no more. The combination of mirth, food, and ale had relaxed her enough to where she began to speak her mind more freely.

"Where do you put it all?" she blurted suddenly.

Merry smiled. "There are few treasures in the world, and when they come, you should enjoy them to the fullest. Dinner is among them." He grinned.

"This isn't as bad as the Lembas on the river all those years ago," Pippin grinned. "How many of those did you eat before we learned?"

"I only had two," Merry countered. "But you ate four of them you old fool." He laughed.

"Yes," Pippin nodded. Then he rolled his eyes and laughed at the memory. "I felt like my belly was about to burst, but they were so tasty!"

"Lembas?" Gabrielle asked.

"Elvish way bread," Merry said as he raised his flagon to his lips again. He saw the look of confusion on her face and set the flagon back down after another long drink. "It's a cake that the elves prepared for long journeys. One little bite," he held his thumb and forefinger close together by way of example. "Well, that would be enough to keep a full sized man full for a day."

"Or so Legolas said," Pippin added with a grin. "I wish he would have told us sooner."

"Anyway," Merry continued. "If one little bite can do that to one of the Big People, then just imagine what four whole cakes, this big, would do to a little hobbit." Again he held up his hands by way of example.

"I got that part," Gabrielle smiled. "What are elves?"

At that question, both her hosts exchanged a strange look.

"What?" Gabrielle asked.

"You've never heard of the elves?" Merry asked.

"I've never heard of people like you either. I heard someone say Halfling when we came in.

At that, Merry winced again. "Hobbits, if you please."

Pippin merely studied Gabrielle as if she had suddenly turned into stone.

"Never heard of the elves, eh?" he smiled. "Or of Hobbits either?"

Gabrielle shook her head, mildly concerned that she may have offended her little hosts. Instead, Pippin grinned and slid his chair around the table closer to Gabrielle. "Well, then, we shall have to remedy that, won't we."

"That we will," Merry agreed. He leaned back and whistled again for more ale. "Perhaps, once her friend recovers, we could take them back to Rohan and see Gimli and Legolas."

"Or we could simply have her meet the Queen," Pippin replied. "Though I wouldn't mind a trip back to Edoras to see Eomer again."

"When you're granted leave," Merry replied.

"Of course." Pippin answered, mildly ruffled. Then he was focused again on Gabrielle, even as his hand drifted into his waistcoat and produced a small wooden pipe with a narrow silver mouthpiece and a small, wide, flat bowl. He dipped the bowl into a pouch at his belt with practiced ease and then lit the tobacco from a candle on a nearby table.

"So," he said after a few puffs. "Where to begin."

"You mentioned your home," Gabrielle said. "The Shire?"

"Yes," Merry said with a grin. "Best place to start."

At that, both hobbits launched into a detailed description of their home land. Gabrielle was hard pressed to remember all the names and places. In spite of the rapid and florid way in which her two companions related the news of their homeland, and the strong bitter ale, Gabrielle managed to keep the more important points (to her) somewhat straight.

She learned about the adventures of one particular hobbit, by the name of Bilbo Baggins. How he and a company of Dwarves had managed to recover a vast treasure many years past. How in that adventure, the fortunate Bilbo had also managed, through sheer blind luck, to find a magical ring that was soon revealed as a Ring of Power, coveted by the Dark Lord Sauron, who had ruled Mordor until recently.

The tales wove in and out, describing various lands and people that Gabrielle had never heard about before. Places of beauty and places of darkness, wondrous and magical creatures, enormous battles, horrible sieges, all rolled off the happy tongues of the hobbits with an ease that both startled and amazed the young bard. She interposed questions when she was able to get one in between the alternating tales, but for the most part she simply sat and listened as they ate their meal.

Gabrielle noticed that they took turns in relating their tales. While one focused on dining, the other would speak until some point of conjecture arose and the two would argue politely back and forth before switching roles.

"And since the fall of Mordor," Merry finally said as he sat back from his plate. "I've been in charge of maintaining and translating the archives of the palace for a book I'm writing."

Pippin smiled. "Yes. And you were supposed to be back there some time ago, weren't you?"

"What?"

"You have to be back in the archives, right?" Pippin smirked.

"Ah, but I was under orders from Mister Strider," Merry replied shortly. "And those orders supersede any orders I might have previously had."

Gabrielle watched the confrontation as she nibbled on a piece of cheese.

"Well, you need to get back there, straight away. You're the one who told Michel Delving that the translations would be ready by midsummer, and it's two months travel back home at least, which means your time is getting short."

"Don't remind me." Merry replied. "But Strider also said I could take as long as I wished, and since he is the lord of the land, and the Mayor of Michel Delving is, well, a mayor." He shrugged. "I'm under no obligation."

Pippin was about to say something else, but Merry cut him off.

"Besides," He said shortly. "No one put a time limit on Mister Bilbo's 'Translations of the Elvish', so why should they be so pushy with me? It is a complete history of the kings of Eriador, after all. Do you know how many books and scrolls are down in those vaults?"

"Never bothered to look really," Pippin said with a smile.

"Well, there's mountains of them down there," Merry replied.

"Records?" Gabrielle perked up.

Merry nodded. "I've spent the last two years just helping get the place organized so you can find things, never mind translating everything. I'll get Michel Delving his book when I get it finished to my liking and not a moment before." He finished looking at Pippin.

"Like a library, right?" Gabrielle pressed.

Both hobbits looked at the young woman, suddenly realizing what she was driving at.

Merry looked at Pippin and offered a smug smile. Then he looked at Gabrielle. "Would you like a tour of the archives, Miss Gabrielle?"

"I would," Gabrielle replied. She yawned suddenly. "But I really need to get back to my friend."

"We understand," Pippin smiled. "Still, I hope we lived up to Strider's orders and provided a little entertainment for you this evening?"

Gabrielle shook her head. "I've heard so many names today. Who is Strider?"

The hobbits looked at one another and then, with blank expressions and monotone voices they said in unison. "His Majesty, the High King of Gondor, the Lord Aragorn."

Then they both laughed. "He hates it when we do that to him, doesn't he," Pippin chuckled.

"Every time." Merry replied, laughing in his own right.

"Aragorn," Gabrielle stopped. "You mean the king, himself?"

"Yes," Merry replied. "As I said, he was the one who asked us to accompany you to get something to eat, and provide a little pleasant diversion, since you seemed somewhat melancholy, you see."

"So you two know the king pretty well?" Gabrielle asked.

Both hobbits nodded their heads.

"We traveled with him some years ago," Pippin offered. "And watched him become king too, let me see, that was nigh on twenty years ago?"

Merry nodded. "Our cousin, Frodo was the real hero in that quest though. It was he that really made it possible for Aragorn to become king. Since then, the kingdom of Gondor has been as peaceful and prosperous as the ancient kingdoms of old."

Merry stood up from his place. "But, that is a tale for another time. I have to return." He stood up with a contented sigh. "Good dinner, Pip," he nodded. "See you back tomorrow for breakfast? I need to show Miss Gabrielle to her quarters."

"Absolutely," Pippin smiled.

"Miss Gabrielle?" Merry asked. "Ready?"

Gabrielle nodded. "Nice meeting you, Pippin."

"Nice meet you as well, Miss Gabrielle," Pippin smiled. "Good evening, Miss."

They left the rowdy establishment and made their way back toward the Healing House.

Gabrielle left the patient hobbit at the gate and went quickly inside to check on Xena. She lay on the bed, as before. One of the healers stood over her, wiping a cloth over her brow.

"How is she?" Gabrielle asked, feeling her mirth of the last few hours sink back into shadow.

"The same, My Lady," the young woman replied. "The King was here some time ago, but he had no luck awakening her. He said that he shall return on the morrow."

Gabrielle nodded and looked at the face of her friend, lying in a dream. She frowned as she studied Xena's features. They were tight, as if she were struggling against something deep within her own body, or perhaps in her mind.

The sensation of helplessness washed over her again, and her mood plummeted back to the level it had been when Merry had arrived. Suddenly, the idea of seeing a library of any kind held no appeal at all.

"If I may, My Lady," The healer said, noting Gabrielle's expression. "There is naught you can do here. And remaining as you are will not aid your friend, nor benefit you, I'd wager." She placed a reassuring hand on Gabrielle's arm.

"Take your leave. Our messengers will find you if anything changes."

"I don't want to be too far away," Gabrielle replied. "I need to be here if…" She let the words die on her lips as if afraid that uttering them would make them true.

The healer's expression hardened a little.

"That won't happen, love," she said firmly. Her clear dark eyes bored into Gabrielle's. "When I said she was unchanged, that was what I meant. She is unchanged. She might even be asleep, of sorts. It isn't a question of your friend dying, I think. It is merely a question of how long she will sleep."

Gabrielle's eyes widened slightly. "How do you know?"

"It was the words of the King, himself," she replied. "Your friend is feverish, yes, but she is more akin to sleeping than sick. It is the cause that eludes him, at present."

"But if she stays like this for too long, she will die." Gabrielle thought as she looked back at Xena. "Of starvation."

The healer seemed to read her expression and sighed. "Please, Miss. Worry about the present. She will be alright. Have hope."

Gabrielle nodded absently. She stepped quickly over to the bed and knelt down next to Xena. "I'll be back in the morning." She whispered. Then she smiled slightly. "Don't go anywhere."

She rose and left the chamber, returning to Merry who still waited patiently at the entrance.

A tall man in the garb of the citadel guard was speaking to Merry when she emerged. The little hobbit nodded agreeably and then the guard departed.

"What was all that?" she asked as she approached.

"Ah," Merry replied. "Just a messenger from the palace. Your quarters are ready."

"Quarters in the palace?" Gabrielle asked.

Merry rolled his eyes. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed. "Why ever would you want to stay there, with guards always watching your comings and goings, always sticking their noses into your business?"

"Not the palace," Gabrielle concluded.

"Of course not," Merry smiled. "Just as the secret to fine dining is knowing where to dine, so too, is the art of accommodations."

His smile widened. "There is an absolutely charming inn, near the last turn before you go up to the palace proper. "I told my big friend to make the arrangements for you, and pass the information on to the king, so?"

Instantly, Gabrielle felt the heaviness in her heart lighten again. There was something about this strange little man, and all the people she had met that made her comfortable. It was like living in a dream.

She paused for a moment. What if this was a dream?

She turned and looked out at the fields far below, and then back at the hobbit before her.

"What is it?" Merry asked expectantly.

Gabrielle shrugged. "Just another one of my wild theories. Which way is it?"

Frowning slightly, Merry gestured in the indicated direction and then led the way up towards a finely built pale brick structure that was the inn.

The room was spacious and comfortably furnished with an archway that led out onto a stone terrace which overlooked the city and the valley below. As she looked, she could see the people moving below her, going here and there about the daily business. The sun was setting in the western sky, bathing the whole of the city in deep reds and orange.

"It's been a long day, Miss," Merry said after a few moments.

She looked back at him and saw his understanding expression. "You've been through a lot and seen a lot. Things will be better tomorrow."

The numbness that Gabrielle was feeling settled upon her like a suffocating veil. She looked back at the hobbit and nodded mutely.

"Thanks for everything," she offered.

"It was my pleasure," Merry replied, smiling again. "Get some rest this evening, and I will call on you in the morning. Perhaps you would like to breakfast with Pippin and I in the morning?"

Gabrielle went to the bed and sat down, her expression melting, once again into melancholy.

"Sleep well, miss," Merry quietly closed the door behind him as he departed.

The shock and trauma of the past few days along with everything that she had seen began to finally assert itself in her mind, and the emotional tumult rose in waves. She fell to her side, curling up into a ball, weeping until there were no more tears for her to cry and she fell into a troubled sleep.

Merry paused in the hallway, just outside the door. He heard the sobs begin, and shaking his head, he made his way out of the inn, up the road and to the palace proper.

The guards let him pass, unmolested. All of Gondor knew of the Kings affinity for these particular Halflings. Even if their deeds in the War of the Ring had not made them heroes, that favor would have been enough.

Pippin was standing in one of the grand halls of the palace, speaking quietly with Aragorn.

The king turned to see the sullen hobbit and he smiled understandingly. "All well, Master Brandybuck?" he asked.

Merry shrugged. "She was weeping when I left."

Aragon smiled. "It's to be expected. She's had a hard road these past days."

"What about her friend?" Merry continued.

Aragorn sighed. "I have done what I can," he offered. "She seems to be in no danger. I just need to discover what has caused her unnatural sleep." He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "What were you two able to learn?"

"Well," Pippin spoke up. "We learned that she and her companion are from a place known as Greece, though I've never heard of such a place. That there are kings in her realm, but no single one that rules over all. Her companion was a great warrior in her own right."

"She used the term, warlord, actually," Merry added. "And that she had a rather dark past before the two of them met."

"But that this Xena has turned over a new leaf, so to speak," Pippin interjected this time. "They've been wandering for nearly three years together, having various adventures. Some of them better than others, of course."

"That is to be expected," Aragorn nodded. "But what of this Xena?"

Merry shrugged. "The way I understood it, Xena has been obsessed with making amends for her past indescretions."

"And whatever this Xena's intentions, I feel sure that Miss Gabrielle is not here to do any harm," Pippin added.

Aragorn nodded. "That much I perceived when I beheld her. Was there anything else that you discovered?"

"Only that they were in the midst of a summer storm when they found themselves in the middle of the plains of Rohan," Merry said. "She has no idea how she and her friend arrived there. Then the bit about the Orc attack, and then, whatever Master Hallas spoke of."

Again, the King nodded his head. "And his impressions, and the impressions that Captain Breggolard have of Gabrielle also match yours, my friends. Regardless of her companions' intentions, I am convinced that we have naught to fear from Gabrielle."

"Well," Pippin sighed. "Thank goodness for that. I was never good at subterfuge like this."

"Not since Sam helped us with Mister Frodo," Merry nodded. "And then, it was Sam that was always around him, not us. I think I misjudged the poor fellow. I never should have chided him as I did after Mister Gandalf caught him eavesdropping."

Aragorn smiled. "Well, I think that you will not have to do this spying any longer."

"But there must be something we can do, Aragorn," Merry said. "She was weeping when I left her this evening. It tugs at my heart to see anyone so distraught, you see? And she isn't deserving of this, no matter what she's been through or her companion may or may not have done before coming here."

Aragorn placed a hand on either of the hobbits shoulders.

"Her tears are born of compassion," he said. "And there is little cure for that besides the awakening of her friend. What little we can do to lift her spirits, we will do, and I shall leave in your capable hands, but in the end, I think it is the well being of this Xena that will determine the mood in her heart."

"One thing," the shadowy stranger said. "It is imperative that we keep a zero visibility profile. We go in and out, unsuspected and undetected. When we're finished, it'll look like a freak natural disaster."

"Ah," a second, almost silky male voice crooned. "My favorite kind of Op. Black."

The room was dark, almost hazy, as if the details did not want to reveal themselves. The figures moving about or lounging on the furniture were faceless vaguely human shapes, like a mixture of smoke and shade.

"That's if we can get the equipment we need?" The first voice said as it turned its head to gaze at a third figure, who was seated at a desk or table, huddled over something in his massive fingers. He set it down and puffed a couple of times on a smoldering roll that he held in his teeth.

The smoke wafted over her, and she smelled its acrid scent, strange, and yet so familiar.

"Four hours," The big figure said. He had a reluctant smirk on his face. "They'll load it when they re-supply and refuel your ship."

"Four hours!" Gabrielle heard her own voice burst from her lips.

"You went from a couple of days to four hours?"

There was an underlying sense of anxiety that fueled a nervous energy building in her chest.

The big shadow shrugged. "I'm good, what can I say?"

"This is all a game to you, isn't it?" Gabrielle snarled. "My best friend is stuck in some dungeon while you go from a couple of days to four hours!"

Dungeon? When was Xena locked in a dungeon?

"You better watch that mouth of yours, missy," The bigger shadow growled.

"Or what!" Gabrielle shot back. All the pent up emotion was rushing out and there was no way for her to stop it. "After everything I told you! You sit here playing these games while they're doing, I don't know what, to my friend! You think I care what you'll do to me?" She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and she shook her head, fists clenching. Then she turned and bolted from the room.

The place outside the room was familiar to her. The same large, dark cavernous place, with the blue lights and the red waving beams that passed over her, but left no mark. The numerous faceless, amorphous shapes of other strangers undulating in the flashing illumination. She sensed, more than saw the movement off to one side, and her sense of anger flared again. She turned her gaze on the figure with glacial intensity.

She felt a bitter smile pull at the corners of her mouth.

"I just realized," she said in a venomous tone. "I can't go anywhere! I can't do anything! I'm stuck here in this place because you brought me here!" Her voice broke as the sobs burst out of her. She slammed her fist against the metal support beam and then turned her back to it, sliding to the ground.

Brought her where? Who was that mysterious figure? What was this strange place? If only she could wave away the obscuring haze and see things clearly!

The knifing pain in her skull catapulted her from sleep into painful wakefulness.

Gabrielle rolled over, nearly falling off the bed as she clutched her hands to either side of her head and tried to keep the pressure within from bursting her skull.

The next several days passed relatively uneventfully. Every night, Gabrielle retired to her simple lodgings. Every night, images and dreams plagued her mind. Then she would awake in the morning, haggard and weary, with pain throbbing in her skull as she went back to sit vigil with her best friend.

As for Xena, the injuries she had sustained in the attack were healing, however she still would not respond to anyone or anything. She remained motionless and unconscious.

The hobbits did what they could to distract the melancholy bard, but even the endless scrolls and books in the library only served to entertain Gabrielle temporarily.

At the end of a week, Xena had still not shown any conscious signs of recovery.

Gabrielle sat, as she always did, holding Xena's hand in her own and speaking to her quietly.

The anxieties of the past week, coupled with the restlessness of her sleep were beginning to show.

"I see all these things," she said quietly. "Or hear them. I can't imagine what they are, but I know they're real."

Gabrielle leaned forward and smiled, somewhat manically. "Did you know that last night, I actually dreamed I was flying? I was soaring through those hills, south of Cyerna, all the way until I reached the sea, and then." She leaned in closer as if to bestow a secret. "And then I went up. All the way up, Xena. I went past the sun, past the moon; I was flying among the stars." She smiled. "It was so beautiful, looking down at the world and seeing it slowly turning beneath me." She paused for a moment, blinking away the pain that her memory caused. She had almost gotten used to the discomfort that reminiscing brought with it. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth against the onslaught. "Maybe there's something in my memory that will help you, Xena," she continued.

The agony was almost overwhelming her, but the pushed against it, feeling it sting inside her skull like white hot needles.

"I went past the moon, out among the stars," she continued. "It seemed like forever and ever, and then I saw it."

She put her head down on the mattress and groaned, forcing her mind to wrap around the image in spite of the torture.

"I saw a city, Xena," she continued tightly. "An enormous city, floating among the stars. And boats floated among the stars, going to and from this city. Boats like you've never, never seen before."

The pain was a white hot fire behind her eyes now.

"I went into the city," she managed to gasp. "I went into..."

Suddenly, a soft, calming voice sliced painlessly through her torment.

"You cannot help your friend by harming yourself."

The voice was feminine, and somewhat husky as if the speaker feared that her voice might carry.

The pain vanished, and Gabrielle looked over her shoulder to see a woman, dressed in royal robes of blue and silver. She stood near the arch, one pale hand resting delicately against the stone. Her skin was like milk, and her long dark hair flowed past her shoulders and down her back. She wore a circlet of silver in her hair, and her deep blue eyes looked down at Gabrielle with gentle intensity.

She had the softest touch of a smile on her lips.

"I am Arwen," she said simply.

"Hi," Gabrielle blinked. It was as if she could perceive a soft white cleansing light, emanating from somewhere within the person before her. It was soothing and warm, and seemed to settle like a blanket over the room.

"Hello, Gabrielle," Arwen smiled. She floated into the room with an unnatural grace and seated herself next to the bed.

Gabrielle felt Arwen's eyes searching her right down to her soul. In the end, her smile remained.

"I understand your devotion to your friend," she said without preamble. "I understand it better than you may think."

Gabrielle looked down at Xena.

"However," Arwen continued. "You do not aid your friend by sickening yourself with lack of food and sleep."

"I've been eating," Gabrielle lied. "And sleeping."

"You have been eating far too little," Arwen corrected her. "This says something when you are in the company of hobbits. And you have been dreaming these past days. Dreaming things that have disturbed your rest."

She reached down and placed a pale hand on Xena's forehead.

"You must be strong," she continued, looking up at Gabrielle with a flash of steel in her blue eyes. "It would serve no one should you lie in the bed beside hers, afflicted with fever, or madness."

"There must be something I can do," Gabrielle shot back a bit too tersely.

The sharpness of her tone did not offend her visitor.

"Perhaps there is," Arwen answered. "But perhaps the only thing you can do is nothing?"

Gabrielle waved that suggestion aside before even considering it. "There are always options. Always different things that can be tried."

"Indeed," Arwen replied, smiling. "And sometimes one of those possibilities is to do nothing." She folded her hands in her lap as she sat back. "Besides, when you step away from a problem, sometimes the answer will present itself."

Gabrielle felt like she was being patronized a little and she didn't like it.

Another figure entered, one of the healers. She carried a small silver tray in her hand. Upon the tray were two small goblets.

Arwen took the cups from the healer and extended one to Gabrielle.

"Drink this," she instructed gently. "It will help you sleep, just as the healing properties will help sustain your friend."

Arwen then focused on gently feeding the drink to Xena. Once she was done, she looked up at Gabrielle who sat, eyeing the goblet with a hint of suspicion.

"Something concerns you?" Arwen asked, studying her closely.

Gabrielle shook her head slowly. "No. It's just something that I feel."

She winced as the memory lanced her mind again. "Every time I try and remember," she said angrily. "It's like someone is punishing me."

"Or protecting you," Arwen offered. "Oft will a parent strike the hand of the child reaching for the candle flame, one pain to ward off another."

Gabrielle was about to reply, when a distant booming sound reverberated from somewhere.

Both women paused, their eyes looking instinctively towards the ceiling.

Arwen's eyes then turned to the nearby open window.

"Strange," she said thoughtfully. "The sky is clear, and yet, that sounded like thunder."

Gabrielle slowly rose to her feet, the drink forgotten in her hand.

"That didn't sound like thunder to me," she said slowly.

She turned and exited the house, moving quickly up the remaining avenue to the palace grounds. Her eyes were locked on the sky above. She moved down the long promenade towards the perilous drop off with her eyes always looking up.

Arwen followed right behind her.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

Gabrielle shrugged, never taking her eyes off the vast expanse of blue.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I just have this feeling."

She stopped when the strange echoing boom reverberated across the sky again, only this time, Gabrielle could tell the direction. Her head snapped around and her eyes locked on the distant heavens.

Arwen followed her gaze, staring up into the sky. "I see nothing."

"I know," Gabrielle said, holding a finger up. "But it came from that way."

They were facing south, looking up past the spires of the citadel of Minas Tirith and the crown of the mountain into the endless blue expanse of sky beyond.

The two of them backed slowly along the sprawling grand promenade

"What is that?" Arwen asked suddenly.

Gabrielle couldn't see anything.

"What?" she asked. Another ominous boom echoed from the distance.

Arwen pointed. "There. Something falling from the sky."

"I can't see it," Gabrielle replied, feeling frustrated.

Suddenly, she began to make out a tiny wisp of something high above the mountains. The trail was deep gray, almost black, and it was screaming as it approached.

"What is that?" Gabrielle asked in shock. She squinted against the glare and tried to discern the object's shape.

Whatever the ballistic object was, it was dropping at great speed, and coming towards the summit of the mountain.

The two of them began backing away more out of concern than to get a better view.

Suddenly, Gabrielle felt a firm hand grasp her arm and stop her movement.

"Have a care," Arwen said.

Turning about, Gabrielle discovered that she was standing near the edge of a precipice that plummeted several thousand feet towards the first ring of the city.

The vertigo overrode her sudden curiosity and she stepped to the side with Arwen, away from the perilous drop.

The two women fixed their eyes on the descending object again.

Gabrielle could make out the angular profile of the thing as it approached. It was triangular in appearance, both from the front and in design along its long axis, at least as far as Gabrielle could discern.

"I can see someone within!" Arwen exclaimed.

Gabrielle glanced quickly at Arwen and back again. She couldn't see anyone.

"A woman sits within," Arwen continued. "She looks terrified!"

"How can you see inside that thing?" Gabrielle asked as the whine of the approaching object increased in volume.

There was a puff of pale white smoke from the rear of the object, and then a subtle coughing roar. The front of the thing rose slightly as if whoever sat within were trying to avoid colliding with the mountain.

"It's a sky boat," Gabrielle gasped, even though the revelation caused her pain.

"Sky boat?" Arwen asked.

"Like in my dream," Gabrielle replied.

Another loud boom and the whine increased before popping and failing again. The thing was heading straight for them.

"Run!" Arwen shouted, pulling desperately at Gabrielle's arm.

The young bard was rooted in place, her eyes fixed on the strange craft, even as it came at her like a juggernaut.

The high pitched whine carried across the vast distance to their ears, like an agonizing scream. The sky boat grew into an enormous, almost bat like shade of gray and black and then, in a blast of noise and air that knocked the two women to the stone ground, it was past them.

Guards scrambled to posts, calling orders and focusing upon the strange intrusion. Weapons were drawn, and trumpets sounded.

Gabrielle stumbled towards the precipice, her hands grasping the stone as she leaned out, heedless of the danger, and watched in fascination as the craft sped across the distant fields.

"What is that?" Gabrielle asked, pointing down at the cluster of structures straddling the river far below.

"That is Osgiliath," Arwen replied. "The Lord Faramir, my husband's steward, resides there."

Gabrielle looked back up at the distant object.

"That thing is heading right for it," she said fearfully.

Even as they watched, the front of the ship began to lift again.

"It's trying to avoid the city!" Gabrielle said, squeezing the unyielding stone.

Arwen was at her side instantly, her eyes wide with fright and amazement.

They watched, breathlessly as the strange vehicle fell towards Minas Tirith's satellite city. Slowly, the ship began nosing up and to the side of the city.

"Come on, come on," Gabrielle whispered as if she would extend her will to lift the craft out of harms way.

Arwen smiled in relief. "It's going to miss Osgiliath!" she exclaimed. Almost as soon as she said the words, the ship lurched and sliced through the spire on the royal residence. Then it seemed to jump up from the impact and roll to the side before righting itself and plowing into the fields on the opposite side of the river, just beyond the last farmstead.

Gabrielle cried out in horror as earth and stone went up in a belching cloud. The rumble of the impact could be heard from their distant perch.

Gabrielle looked back towards the palace and saw dozens of guards running to various posts.

"There it is!" Arwen cried.

Gabrielle looked back at the small settling cloud of debris and saw the vessel, nose first in the soft earth with smoke belching from the rear.

"What is it?" Arwen breathed a few moments later.

Another footstep sounded behind them, and the two women turned to find Aragorn approaching.

He looked down at the distant wreck.

"What has happened?"

Gabrielle looked down at the ship, lying in the tall grasses beyond Osgiliath. Something inside her was screaming to her that this was important, like the images in her dreams, only more so.

When she turned back, she found Aragorn with the arm protectively wrapped about Arwen's shoulders.

Even as they all watched the scene below, a cluster of men on horses galloped out from the city of Osgiliath, towards the strange wreck.

A short while later, Arwen said that she could see the men of Gondor escorting numerous other figures out of the conveyance.

"Are any of them dressed strangely?" Gabrielle asked suddenly. "In greens and grays that mimic the shadows of a forest?"

Arwen studied the growing clot of people and shook her head.

"I can't explain it," she said, turning to Aragorn. "But that object and those people are important!"

"Important in what way, Lady?" Aragorn asked.

"I don't know," Gabrielle confessed. "I just know that they are!"

The two of them could see the frustration building in their young guest again.

"Peace, Gabrielle," Arwen said gently, placing a hand on the young girl's shoulder. She looked up at Aragorn and nodded her head.

"I will send Master Peregrin to Osgiliath, and have him return with the people from that craft." Aragorn said gently.

Gabrielle looked back down at the distant smoldering wreck below. Her mind was reeling between awe and shock, accompanied by a nagging, painful sense of familiarity.

"Gabrielle?" Arwen asked.

The young bard looked back and smiled. "I just know that something about the people in that drop ship is important."

"Drop ship?" Arwen asked. "That thing is called a drop ship?"

Gabrielle nodded automatically. Then she perked up suddenly. Granted, the facts all added up, but the actual term was completely alien to her. Still, it had rolled from her lips as if she had used the term in the past.

The most fascinating part was that she had felt no pain at that small revelation.

"Do not open this unless you have the utmost need. Can you accept that responsibility and truly honor it?"

The image of the priest suddenly exploded before her mind's eye. He was tall and thin, with a hawkish nose and mesmerizing gray green eyes. His lips were curled in a smile even as he handed the small box to Gabrielle.

"There's something I need to look into," she said suddenly. She excused her self from the king and queen's company and ran back towards her lodging, outside the palace.

On her way out, she met Pippin who was searching for the king.

The two exchanged rushed pleasantries as Gabrielle jogged back towards the inn.

Inside her traveling bag, she found the small beaten wooden box.

On the top of the container was a simple circular engraving of a letter L, deeply etched into the thin wood with incredible detail.

As she turned the box over in her fingers, studying it closely, with deeply renewed curiosity, she heard the contents within rattle softly.

"What are you?" she asked the box aloud.

She turned and ran back to the healing house.

When she arrived, she found Arwen standing over Xena's bed.

"There is something dark within her," she heard the elf lady say.

"What is it?" Gabrielle asked.

Arwen looked at her and her expression was grim.

"We have done all we can, Lady," a healer said gently. He turned and looked down at Xena. "If she is to awaken, it must be she who accomplishes it. We can do no more."

Gabrielle looked down at the box in her hands. "Only in your most desperate hour," she whispered to herself. As she looked at the box, she discovered that it had inadvertently been turned upside down in her hands, and the graven L was now inverted. As she looked at it, her eyes went wide.

"Look at this," she said, beginning to shake with excitement. "Gods, how could I have been so stupid!"

Arwen stepped forward and looked down at the box in Gabrielle's fingers.

"I am unfamiliar with this symbolism," she admitted. "What does this mean?"

"Held this way," Gabrielle said excitedly. "It resembles a letter 'L'."

She turned the box over. "And this way, it resembles a number seven."

"Welcome to Old Number Seven…"

The deep voice thundered from the unbidden depths of her memory accompanied by the familiar lance of pain.

"Old Number Seven," Gabrielle whispered. She looked up at the curious eyes of the queen and then moved to sit at Xena's side.

"What does the 'L' stand for?" she remembered asking the strange priest.

"Life, Mistress. Life" Brother Mavon had replied.

She looked back up at the two others in the room, then at the motionless form of Xena lying before her. She wrenched the top of the box open and turned it over above the table.

Two objects fell to the table with a soft clatter.

Gabrielle opened her eyes cautiously and saw the items before her. One was a simple, metallic cylinder, nearly as long and thick as her middle finger, with a tiny dark plunger at the top. The second was a small, hard, clear piece of material, like glass, and yet not like it.

"What is it?' Arwen asked, stooping closer to examine the objects.

Gabrielle shook her head, glancing back into the box to see if anything else remained.

"I don't know," she confessed. "I was told that the objects in this box would help me if I was in trouble." She shook her head as she reached for the piece of glass. "But I don't see how these can help me."

Her voice fell to silence as she held the clear piece of glass in her fingers.

The first thing she noted was that it was incredibly light, and did not have the characteristic coolness of glass. She could see white markings on the back side, but nothing else. Frowning, she turned the card over, and her eyes went wide with shock.

"That's you," Arwen said in surprise as the two of them glanced at the small image imprinted upon the smooth surface. All around the image were tiny letters, written in a language that none of them could decipher. At the bottom was a series of lines, some thicker than others, creating a strange pattern. It was that pattern that held Gabrielle transfixed for a moment.

Then the world behind her eyes exploded in a cloud of blinding white pain. The memories that had been held back in her mind, flooded out, washing over her with relentless agony. Dimly, she felt herself cry out and then the world faded from her mind, vanishing in a cloud of unending white.

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