Author's Note: Well, here's that fic I promised. It took a while, but after a few beta sessions with the awesomest (I don't think that's a word)beta: Nieriel Raina, it's finally ready. I was watching the Two Towers (that's a shocker), and it suddenly struck me: What do the people think of these random strangers? That's the story behind that. Anyway, enough rambling. Hope you like!

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and places belong to the Tolkien estate and New Line Cinema. Since and I am neither of those, the afore mentioned do not belong to me. They are probably all rejoicing for that fact right now.

Hope in a Stranger's Guise

The streets were silent. Granted, it was usually quiet anyway, ever since the King had ceased to fulfill his duties, more or less. However, everyone stopped in their work today and turned to stare at the strangers who rode in our midst.

The likes of them I'd never seen, but one. He was garbed in the same grey robes as the last time he, Gandalf Stormcrow, had visited Edoras. And the horse he rode I too recognized, for all in this land knew the Lord of the Mearas. He could not be mistaken for any other.

Those who rode with Gandalf earned their fair share of odd looks. All three were strangers to Rohan, yet they were mounted upon the renowned steeds of our land. One caught my attention- Hasufel! He was the mount of my beloved brother, Sythrin. How had he come into the hands of these - these rogues? Had the horse been taken by force? Would Sythrin have given Hasufel to mere strangers of his free will? I think not. That meant...

Before I realized it, tears stung my eyes and I turned my head away, ashamed. My brother was dead. My hope, my life since my mother's departure, taken from me. And I did not have the chance to bid him farewell.

I turned my face back towards the strangers. The man riding behind Gandalf was dressed in travel-stained garments and a cloak that seemed to melt into the land before him. His bearing was noble and his face fair. Was he a lord of some far distant realm? If so, what need was there to steal the stallion of a soldier? Rage and sorrow battled within me, and I struggled to keep my face expressionless.

The Man turned his head suddenly, and I met his eyes. The overwhelming feelings that coursed through me simmered down and then I felt naught but the pain of loss. I knew then that he who I had laid eyes upon was no mere stranger. He was a healer of the soul; destined for great things, even if I did not know what they were.

Beside him rode the most ethereal creature I had ever seen. He was fair beyond mortal measure. His hair was of the palest gold and slim braids kept it out of his eyes. Those eyes... I had the fortune to glimpse them, and what I saw made me shiver. Emotions ran deep in those ageless depths. There was hope, love, grief, and much else I could not give a name to. They held the knowledge of more time than I would ever know, had seen things I could only dream of. He was an Elf.

The only thing which surprised me more was that who rode with him. A Dwarf. His frame was short in stature, but it was sturdy. To my amusement, it appeared he did not feel at home on the back of a horse. That was evident with a single glance at his face. Luckily for him, his companion rode with grace and ease; else he would have been reacquainted with the ground the hard way. In his grim face there was courage, loyalty, and deeper - love. Undisputed love for the Man he followed and the Elf he rode with.

This led me to my next question: What Man had the love of these creatures we knew only from legend? For it was easy to see the bond in this group of mismatched travelers went farther than that of mere friends. It was a bond strengthened by tears and blood; that was easy to see in the way they spoke to one another without the use of words.

I found out later that that man was indeed a lord, one who carried the blood of old, and those who followed him did for love and friendship as deep as the roots of Arda itself.

The Dwarf spoke, shattering the eerie silence. "You would find more cheer in a graveyard."

His words hit me, and I stood with my head cocked to the side as I absorbed it. And then I laughed – truly laughed as I had not done for a long while. I laughed until tears poured cascaded down my cheeks for all to see. I felt the stares of the townspeople turn toward me, but I no longer cared.

The Dwarf was right. I could do little to change it, so what better way than to prove him wrong than by filling the streets with laughter, even if I did it alone. But then, I was not alone, I realized. The children giggled with me, at me even, but it was something. Even the adults let faint smiles replace the lines of worry their faces bore so often of late.

As the strangers drew nearer the Golden Hall, I swear I saw the Elf glance over his shoulder and wink.

A/N: There it is. I usually don't write in first person, but it just felt right for this. So, tell me what you think.