Alarain sat with her back to a tree as she gazed absently into the flames of her campfire. Glancing wearily into the dark beyond the firelight, she half expected a band of orcs to jump into the camp and take her prisoner. Brenir, her faithful hound gave her hand a lick as if trying to comfort her. It worked. Alarain lay down with a sigh before falling into an uneasy slumber.

Her dreams were of Saruman as she had seen him just days before. She had ridden too close to Isengard, and had been caught by an orc patrol. They brought her to Saruman and he had tortured her, thinking she was a spy sent by King Theoden himself. In truth, she was a woman of Rohan with no known family, little knowledge of the world, and even less with a sword. She made a living working for a horse breeder.

Before deciding that she was harmless, Saruman had burned the image of a hand onto the inside of her right forearm. Following that, he had dyed it deathly white before throwing her, bleeding and crying, out of Isengard. Upon her return to the breeder and his family, they had also thrown her out after much screaming and threatening. The White Hand of Saruman is not something the people of Rohan take lightly. She had no choice but to leave.

Brenir, being as faithful as he was, had accompanied her. Hiding the symbol of Saruman, she gathered supplies from the village, including a map, and left. Over the next few days, she made her way through the Gap of Rohan and up the North Road. She decided to head for the small town of Bree, thinking that they would surely know nothing of the White Hand there.

Alarain woke from her nightmares to find the sun peeking though the treetops and landing on her face. It lit up her copper-orange hair like the flames of a roaring bonfire. Many people wondered at her hair for it was not the usual blonde colour of her country. She got up, had a quick meal of bread with Brenir, packed the little belongings she had, and with that, she continued on her journey.

Many days passed much the same and she was glad not to have any trouble with orcs or any other forms of danger, except for pesky bugs of course. Then finally, at long last, Alarain came over hill and there before her was Bree. It was a quaint town with simple houses, but after her lonely trek here, she wasn't complaining.

Heading for the gate, she made sure to cover her arm, just in case. The guard on duty was friendly enough and let her pass with only a few questions and a couple of strange looks. It was then that she realized she must look quite silly with her unkempt hair and dirt crusted skin. Although when asked about the nearest inn, he appeared sympathetic and directed her to a place called the Prancing Pony.

Night was starting to fall when she reached the door, and loud laughing could be heard from inside. The unmistakable smell of ale reached her nose, and she sighed, great, she thought sarcastically. She reassured Brenir that she would soon return and entered the building. It was dark with only a few candles to light the entire room, but it was cozy enough. Many men sat at the tables, laughing and drinking. Alarain inquired in a room for the night, and after handing over some coins, soon found herself being handed a key.

After a quick and cheap meal, she decided to retire for the night, hoping to escape the noise. Alarain headed up the small staircase and found herself in a hallway. However, she did not escape the noise, for she could still hear laughter from behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw three men stumbling drunkenly down the hall towards her. Picking up speed, she turned a corner hoping to find her room, but was only met with a dead end. She spun around, but was cut off by the drunks.

"Hey, 'hic' look what we 'hic' have here 'hic' Bill!' the man on the right said to the one in the middle.

"Looksh to meh like we gotta losht liddle lady." Bill replied with an evil grin.

Alarain glared at him. "I'm not lost. Now get out of my way, my friends are looking for me." she lied.

"Yeah right! You came in alone and haven't said a word to anyone!" the third man, who appeared to be much less drunk than the others, smirked.

Before she could protest, Bill grabbed her, flung her into a room and the two others closed the door. She hit the floor hard and was temporarily stunned before she pulled out her dagger and lept to her feet. Bill easily whacked it out of her hand, but not before it scraped his wrist. He cursed loudly and grabbed her arm. With his other hand he slapped her across the face. She cried out in pain and her vision went black briefly, but that didn't stop him. He hit her again and all the while, the other two just looked on and laughed. That's when Bill noticed her arm. Her sleeve had slid up and her hideous scar was revealed.

"Ha! Whath thith?" He cackled.

He was surprised that his companions didn't laugh as well, and when Alarain looked up, she saw why. Bill's friends lay seemingly dead on the floor and Bill himself had a sword at his throat.

"Leave before you suffer the same fate as your followers." the voice of this new man spoke to Bill.

With that, Bill ran. The cloaked figure watched him go before turning to Alarain. She eyed him wearily, not sure of his intentions, and with good reason, for no sooner than he turned, his sword was pressed to HER throat.

"Where does a woman dressed as a ranger get a scar like that?"

She stared at him, eyes wide with fear. With his hood up, his face was obscured in shadow, but she could still make out intense gray-green eyes staring out at her, waiting for an answer.

"Well?" he asked menacingly as his sword pressed closer. "Why does a women clothed as a man bare the White Hand of Saruman? And in such a manner as yourself?"

"Please don't kill me because of it." Alarain choked out.

The man looked slightly confused. "Because of it? What do you mean?"

"I could explain myself better if I did not have a sword to my throat." she squeaked.

He eyed her suspiciously, but lowered his hand and took a step back to give her some room. Alarain noticed that he had still not sheathed his sword as she rubbed her neck.

"Please do not hurt me. It was not my fault Saruman did this to me. I was only..."

"Wait." he interrupted. "Who did that to you?"

"Saruman."

"Saruman the White?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, yes."

"Wait. We are speaking of the same person are we not?"

Alarain sighed. Good grief, she thought to herself. "There is only one wizard named Saruman the White, so... yes... we are."

The confused man's face grew troubled and he went to sit on the edge of a small table. "But Saruman has always been a trusted ally of the good people of Middle-Earth." he said, almost to himself. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"Does working with orcs and threatening the people of Rohan qualify as an ally?" she shot back.

His eyes widened at that. Suddenly, he flew up and pinned her to the wall by her arms. "How dare you make such an accusation!" he snarled.

For some reason, this did not frighten her, so much as it offended her. "How dare ME? How dare YOU!" she yelled in his face. "I have been through enough with Saruman, now only to have you prodding me with you sword and calling me a liar! I thought I would be able to escape the suspicion and un-trusting looks when I left Rohan and came here!"

He stared at her, before he carefully let her go and stepped back, seemingly afraid she would launch into another outburst if he made any sudden movements. He then sat down in a chair and appeared to be deep in thought. That's when one of the drunks on the floor twitched. The man in the chair glanced at him and then at Alarain. She was frozen with fear. She had thought they were dead!

Apparently able to hear her thoughts, the cloaked man spoke. "I only knocked them out. They will be awakening soon." With that, he got to his feet and went to the door. Turning back to her, he said, "Follow me."

Alarain hesitated.

He spoke again. "Do you WANT to still be here when they wake up?"

She sighed, made up her mind, and followed him out the door. He lead her into the hallway and around a few corners until they came to another room.

He lead her inside, closed the door and spoke. "I have decided you are to come with me to Imladris, Rivendell in the common-tongue. We are to leave within the next few days."

Alarain frowned. "Oh am I now?" she said sarcastically.

"Yes, you are. You have information that the master of Rivendell, Lord Elrond, will no doubt with to hear." he replied, seeming not to have noticed her sarcasm.

She crossed her arms and glared at him. The man watched her for a moment before asking in a slightly annoyed tone, "What is it?"

"You expect me to go along with this? I don't have the foggiest clue who this 'Lord Elrond' is, I've never heard of Rivendell, and I don't even know your name. How do you expect me to trust you?"

He crossed his own arms and frowned at her. "Fine. Stay here. I'm sure you and Bill will be very happy together." he said with a tight, mocking smile before turning to leave.

Alarain grabbed his arm. "Wait." she said, a little worried. He turned and looked down into her face. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"If you stay in this town, he is sure to find you again, and you don't want to know what he'll do to you when he does." he said darkly.

"What if I leave?" she asked, still nervous.

"He will follow you and find you."

"And he won't follow if I leave with you?" Alarain questioned.

"No. He is afraid of me. He will not admit it, but he is. Deep down, Bill Ferny is just a coward."

Alarain finally dropped her hand from his arm and looked down at the floor, letting out a shaky breath that she didn't realize she was holding. "Alright. I'll go with you." she said, giving in.

"Strider." the man said quietly.

Alarain looked up, confused.

"You wished to know my name. Around here I am known as Strider." he explained.

She half smiled. "Alarain. I am Alarain."

He gave her a smile and a polite nod before turning to go. She made to follow him but he stopped her. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I want to check on my dog. I left him outside and I want to make sure he's alright."

Strider shook his head. "It would be safer if you stayed here. I will check on him, then I must stay downstairs. I am waiting for the arrival of some certain individuals. They will be joining us on our journey to Rivendell."

"Very well." Alarain said with a sigh. "My dog is dark brown and has a thick coat. His ears stick up straight and he's missing the tip of his tail. His name is Brenir."

Strider nodded, gave her shoulder a pat and told her to get some rest. "You may need it." Then, he left silently, closing the door behind him.