Author's note: I seem to be jumping from one story to the next and I apologise to you all, but I couldn't get this scene out of my head and here I am, starting yet another story. This is my first modern day fic so please don't have too high expectations. I hope you guys enjoy reading, constructive criticism is welcomed!

I got the title from something Tom Bombadil said in the Fellowship of the Ring.

Chapter One…

He couldn't believe it.

His car had died on him again.

Oh come on, this is the third time this week, he thought angrily. He hit the steering wheel in frustration. Then he hit it again. And again and again, as though it would make the metal beast move. Now what?

He was on his way to visit his mother in Sydney, but it seemed that his sorry excuse for a car had to ruin that too. The other two times his car had broken down had resulted in him standing in front of a very irritated boss and explaining to said boss why it was his car's fault he was late. His very angry and irritated boss had kicked him out of his office five minutes into his explanation. At least he didn't get fired.

You really ought to get a new car, Adian, he thought, forgetting at the moment the problems he now faced. "Maybe Sydney has some nice and durable -" he gave the dashboard a pointed look "-ones." Hopefully, his mom was the forgiving type. Hopefully she would be so overjoyed to see him after thirty so years that she would forget all about him coming late for her birthday party. Hopefully she would forget he had promised to be there at said party.

Hopefully I'll wake up and find out that this is all a bad dream, he thought sourly. He had been anticipating and dreading this meeting for a good long while. Anticipating because, she was, after all, his mom and dreading because he hadn't seen her since he was three. The only memory he really had of her had been of grey eyes and brown hair.

He hadn't known how she looked like until he found an old photo of her in a drawer in his parents' room. In the photo she was smiling at the camera, her grey eyes twinkling and full of love. Love, he assumed, that was directed to his father. He never found out why she had left, but it was definitely something he was going to ask.

The car suddenly rocked and he was jolted out of his thoughts. His eyes came to rest on the hood of his car. There was a dent in the black metal. He glared at the huge marsupial nibbling at the grass near his car. The kangaroo ignored him. Great, he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a kangaroo that had probably just reduced his chances of starting up his car to a big fat zero.

He scowled.

"Thanks a lot pal," he muttered before he got out of the car. The kangaroo flicked its ears as if to say "No problem".

He walked around to the front of the car and lifted the hood. The sight that greeted him was miraculous, given the weight of the brown beast. The engine looked completely fine. Thank God for small blessings. Still…where was he going to get fuel?

He glanced around. Endless grass plains rested on his left and right and there was nothing ahead. He turned around and was about to sit down and wait for some kind soul to pass by when he saw it. Was that…a petrol station?

He scrambled into the car and fumbled with his seat belt then he remembered his car had no gas and ran out to try pushing it. It didn't work. Guess I'm walking then. He didn't walk so much as ran to the grey structure he could see in the distance. Why hadn't he seen it before? I hope it's not some lame attempt at a joke, he thought suddenly. He imagined himself arriving there, sweaty and panting, only to discover it was just some kid trying to be funny by putting a 'PETROL HERE' sign on top of an old warehouse.

"This better be real," he said darkly.

Ten minutes later, he arrived at a real gas station. If he had been alone he would have screamed with joy. As it was, there was an old man standing next to one of the two fuel dispensers. He wore a red T-shirt with the words 'What are you looking at?' printed on it in black and a pair of dark blue jeans. On his head sat a black cap. He would look like an ordinary teenager, if he didn't have a beard and a face worn by the passing of time.

"Hello there, how may I help you?" the man inquired. He had been leaning against the fuel dispenser but straightened immediately when he saw that he had a customer.

"Err…that is…I would like to buy some fuel…sir," Adian replied and blushed when he realised he had been stammering. Get a hold of yourself. "You see, I think my car ran out of fuel, because it looked rather fine to me when I set out this morning. Though this isn't the first time it has broken down."

The old man smiled and said, "Well then, I'll find something to put that gas in and we'll go see how your car is doing." Then he turned and vanished into what must be the storeroom. Do petrol stations have storerooms? Adian wondered. The man was back in a minute and set about pumping the fuel from the dispenser into the container he brought. When he was done he stood up and gestured for Adian to lead the way.

The walk to his car was silent and uncomfortable, at least to him; his companion looked perfectly at ease. He had never been more relieved to see his black car and ran towards it when he could see it in the distance. His companion trailed behind.

When he reached the car, he shooed the kangaroo away and lifted the hood. The man joined him not too long later and examined the engine. "Looks fine, I guess he just needed fuel after all." With that he retrieved the container where he had left it by the roadside and started to refill the car. He started humming a tune as he worked and Adian was startled when he realised he recognised it. It had been one of the things he remembered of his mother.

"That song, where did you hear it from?" he asked.

The old man didn't answer him and merely straightened before he patted the car's hood. "She's a fine car, keep her."

Adian blinked. How did he know he was going to sell her? He looked suspiciously at the man standing beside him but was ignored. The man gave the car one last pat before he walked off without a word. Without asking for payment.

"What about the money?" Adain called after his retreating figure.

"What about it? The world needs more kind deeds than money now. Goodbye Adain!" and he disappeared over the rise. Wait a minute…I definitely did not tell him my name. But how else would he know who I was? Puzzled and confused, Adian headed back to his car. He was about to get in when he noticed something caught in the car's wipers. A yellow piece of paper.

That wasn't there before…

He picked the note up and almost dropped it when he read its contents. A name he hadn't seen for a whole six years leaped out at him. It's not possible… "He's dead, I attended his funeral, and he's lying in a coffin outside a church. This isn't real," he said repeatedly but he couldn't prevent a shred of hope from entering his heart.

He read the slanted handwriting again.

Adian,

Reach Sydney with all haste, we have much to discuss.

I have missed you, my friend.

Garrow

His friend, someone he thought was dead, awaited him in Sydney. A sense of foreboding settled in his heart. If Garrow was still alive, then who did they bury? And why did Garrow decide to contact him only now? Why not earlier?Troubled, he started the car.

The road ahead of him suddenly seemed a thousand times longer.