Author's Note: Uhm, I'm writing it as I go along. If it stinks to bad, I won't write anymore. But you have to tell me what you think about it. This is really AU LOTR, so it won't go along that much with book or movie. If Willow seems rather OOC, there is an actual reason for it-and part of it gets addressed in this chapter. It is kinda important to know that Tara does not exist-as a Scooby friend. Flames will hurt only my feelings and won't improve the quality of my writing, so avoid them and give me constructive criticism instead. That would be appreciated greatly.

Disclaimer: I owe nothing, save some pieces of the plot.

Rating: Right now, I'd say its G. But it may become PG later.

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The Prancing Pony came into view and the four soggy hobbits sighed in relief. Soon, their fear and anxiety would be over. Gandalf would be there, pipe in hand, and he would take care of everything. With deep, heartfelt sighs of relief, they sat down to enjoy their warmed drinks.

Half a universe away, a golden goddess spun out the threads of her web and cast her enemies asunder. Separated from each other with no clear way home, there would be none to oppose her search for the key she desired.

Frodo Baggins paled slightly upon seeing a familiar face. A face that wasn't the one they sought. "Sam, please tell me that I am wrong. Tell me that the hobbit over there is not my cousin."

Samwise Gamgee, also known as Sam, glanced over. "I wish I could, Master Frodo, but it appears that it is he. Perhaps you should hide?"

Willow felt it first. "Giles?" she screamed out her question and plea as the pull upon her body increased and she felt the fabric of reality being torn from her.

He reached out as though to pull her to him, but felt the pull on his own body taking him in the opposite direction. Dredging up all the reserves of his strength, he sought out the location they were being driven towards.

"Hide where?"

"Try under the table," Peregrin Took hiccupped. "It always worked with my mum."

With an almost desperate and delirious feeling of joy, he recognized where they were going. "Seek me at The Prancing Pony," he ordered. "I shall have another name but you will know me."

Before she could ask for more information, Willow felt herself falling into the cavernous darkness. Though she knew it would do no good, a screaming plea for assistance escaped her lips.

There was none to hear her plea as she fell, and the cry died upon her lips.

"May be I should just see him, find out why he is here. After all, it could be a rather harmless visit," he slowly announced. "I doubt his presence is related to my arrival."

Frodo made his way to his cousin but a customer, bearing a full tray of drinks turned into his path. Both stumbled and the hobbit fell back, the Ring slipping free from its hiding place. Though the man cursed, he moved on. Sitting unobtrusively in the dark, a cloaked man, leaned forward at the sight of the Ring. His gray eyes watched intently, waiting with held breath to see what would happen.

Neither male was prepared for the redhead who dropped into the building. The Ring collided with her and rolled underneath her body. "Giles?" she called out, turning over and onto her knees. Her hands scrabbled about, trying to find the stout rod that she always carried now.

Frodo rose and, picking up the Ring, offered her a hand up. "May I help you?"

Turning towards the voice, she extended her hand. "Thanks. I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

"No," he replied. "I think you just startled everyone."

"Oh. Are they still watching us?" she whispered fearfully.

"Not any more. Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, watching the way she used the stick to slowly feel around before moving forward.

Shaking her head, she asked. "Where are we going?"

"To sit with my friends, it might be easier to find your friend from our table. What did you say his name was?"

"Giles," she gratefully accepted his help. Having taken a moment, she searched and found nothing particularly threatening about him. "I'd be ever so thankful for the help, Mr.?"

By now they had arrived at the table and he sent a warning glance to his friends. One that even the slightly tipsy Pippin recognized to say nothing about his true name. "Underhill," he quickly created the name. "I'm Frodo Underhill. These are my friends, Samwise Gamgee, Merriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took." He paused between each introduction so that they could shake hands.

Sam grasped her hand firmly, startled when she spoke softly, almost to herself. "A true guardian of the Earth. I sense her loving touch on you; see the green of life that responds to your generous and loving care. It is an honor to meet one such as you, Mr. Gamgee." Her final words were spoken in a louder voice for him to hear.

"Thank you," he replied uncertainly. This woman was different from any he'd met before. Nor did she match any description of the elves he'd heard Master Baggins speak of. Yet, there was a kinship about her that drew him.

Upon meeting Merry and Pippin, her lips curled up into a wistful smile. These were two who would be of much help to her. "Troublemakers. But noble of heart, with a nobility and spirit that will take you far given any chance. I am blessed to find myself in such company," she then introduced herself. "I'm Willow Rosenberg, humble scholar at your service."

"Who are you looking for? Our friend, Gandalf, might be able to help you," Pippin commented.

"Why not take a look around and see if anyone is familiar to you," Merry hastily interrupted, seeing Frodo's look.

"Easier said than done, Master Brandybuck. I'm blind," she bluntly told them.

Pippin voiced the question on all their minds, not ashamed to do so. "What does that mean?"

Taken aback by the question, she searched their manner and found only sincere confusion there. "When you close your eyes, what do you see?"

"Nothing."

"That's what blind is. Even though my eyes are open, it seems as if they are always closed. I walk in a world of darkness. That's why I carry this staff, it helps me stay on an even path and discover any obstacles that may block it."

"Oh. I thought you used it for magic," Pippin sounded disappointed.

She laughed. "I do practice some magic but I don't need this for help."

"How are you going to find him if you cannot see him?" Sam asked.

"I was hoping he'd be here and respond to his name, Master Gamgee," she replied with a deprecating shrug. "But I can tell that he's not here now that I've acclimated myself to this place. That is how I am able to move about, recognize familiar presences. You, Master Gamgee, I'll not soon forget for you radiate an aura of green and brown, while Master Underhill is more a soft blue and gold."

"What am I?"

"You are a sunny yellow, Master Took."

"Pippin. No one calls me Master Took, Mistress Rosenberg."

"If I'm to call you Pippin, then you must call me Willow." Turning towards the last hobbit, her head tilted curiously. "And you? Are you curious to find out how I see you, Master Brandybuck?"

"Merry," he replied. "Not really, but do they mean anything special, Willow?"

"Well, they can. Take you for example. You are red, which can represent passion, fire, and courage. Green and brown are earth colors. Blue means a dreamer and a hidden nature, while gold is a rare nobility. And yellow is a sunny, hopeful nature."

"Hah! She got you perfectly, Pip!" Merry crowed. "I am going for another round of drinks in celebration of our new friend. Do you want anything, Willow?"

"Not unless they offer water, I need to keep a clear head."

"Willow?" the question came before Merry left.

"Yes, Sam?"

He said nothing about the use of his name in a familiar manner. "What does your friend look like?"

"Excellent idea, Sam. Merry can look around for him."

"Thank you, sir."

"He's taller than I am and has blue eyes, lightly colored with green and covered by glass in a frame of metal. Short, brown hair that's going gray because of our behavior. I'd tell you that he has an accent but I seem to be the one with the accent around here," she laughed slightly. "I believe he's dressed in blue tweed. Or so Buffy, another friend, told me."

"All right. I will look for anyone matching that description," Merry trotted off and took note of everyone he passed.

"You have no idea how much I appreciate this," she murmured.

Frodo smiled. "I think we do. I do not mean to be rude, but I cannot contain my curiosity, what kind of name is Buffy?"

Willow shrugged. "Never thought to ask her mom. I think it's a family name, there are a few in mine that I prefer not to discuss."

The dark robed man made a decision. Rising to his feet, he slowly made his way over to them. As he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, he took in the taut form of the female. Before he could fully realize what that meant, he found himself locked at the throat with his own arm and a knife resting in his gut.

"Who are you?" she asked. Though the man seemed harmless, for a girl raised on the Hellmouth, he reeked of danger.

Stunned, he couldn't reply.

"Considering where my knife is, silence is not an option." To emphasize her point, she pressed it in, just enough to make him gasp in shock.

"Strider," he finally got out. "I am a ranger and a friend of Gandalf who is in position to help you. He asked me to wait for two acquaintances of his."

"Why should I believe you?"

Strider shrugged. "Because he said that I would meet an old friend of Giles-once called Ripper."

Willow let him go, still suspicious but more willing to listen. "And?"

"He said Giles wore strange wire frames on his face with glass in them. I was told that I would recognize him by that odd ornamentation," he cleared his throat, trying to regain her attention.

Green eyes blankly stared ahead. "Yes, yes. Go on, have a seat."

"They laughed but I got you some water," he looked around, taking in the strange man sitting beside Willow. "He does not look like your Giles. What did I miss?"

"Merry, Strider. Strider, Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Master Underhill," she briskly introduced them. "No luck?"

Merry shook his head before remembering that she wouldn't be able to see it. It was going to be tough dealing with this blindness, he thought, partly because she does not even acknowledge it. "Sorry."

She sighed, sitting back down slowly. "Not your fault, Merry. It was a long shot anyway. You were saying?"

Strider blinked at her, puzzled as he watched Merry picked up the mug and put it in her hand. She nodded her thanks at him but kept her attention centered on him. "About?"

"Gandalf. Friends. Helping us out," she reminded him. "Trusting you. Any of this ringing any bells for you, Strider?"

He shot her an irritated look-which did nothing since her gaze was directed elsewhere. "I was also told that he has recently been spending time with a group of young adults, one whose designation was Flare. I can only assume they meant you."

"Take me to him. Gandalf is the one that I need to get back home," she half-rose, putting down the glass as she did. "Don't," she told him when his hand reached out for her arm.

"I'll take you but Master Underhill and his friends should accompany us. This is for you," he handed Frodo a note, which the hobbit reluctantly accepted.

"Sir?" Sam asked, glancing between him and the stranger dubiously. "Everything all right?"

Blue eyes glanced up from the letter and smiled at him, easing the concern, just a little bit. "Fine. It's from Uncle Bilbo, he knows Strider. We shall be glad for guidance to Rivendell."

The party of six left The Prancing Pony and headed out into the cold, wet night. "I have a place we can sleep in tonight," Strider said. "Journeying right now would be impractical and unwise."

Willow shivered, "very well."

In the morning, they made their way out of town and down the path until Strider decide that they'd better take their journey into the woods. Watching the redhead cautiously moving brought a question to his mind. "Is there something wrong with your eyes?

"Can't see," her sharp reply dared him to ask for more information. The staff felt stiff and unyielding in her hands and she calmed down. Giles had enchanted it to work based on her emotions-and it rarely lead her right when she was this tense.

"Willow?" a voice whispered from the undergrowth a few feet in front of them.

"Angel?" Disbelief colored her voice. "Where are you?"

"Over here," he stuck out a stick and tapped it against the ground. She came closer and knelt down, surprised when he hugged her tightly.

"You aren't Angelus, are you?"

"No. Why would you ask me that?" he asked, slightly hurt.

"You aren't acting like yourself," she replied. But she didn't move away from the embrace.

"I haven't seen anyone in weeks," he explained.

"How is that possible? I arrived last night and met up with them," she gestured vaguely behind her. "How have you survived?"

"On what animals I could find," he replied uneasily. There was a look in her eyes that he remembered from other times they'd been together. When she pulled free and removed her knife, he grabbed her arm. "Willow, don't be foolish."

Jerking free, she ignored him and sliced her arm. "Drink," she ordered. Not giving him a chance to refuse, she rested her open wound against his lips, knowing that his demon would accept what she freely offered.

The four hobbits and the human watched with a mixture of horror and interest as this exchange took place. It puzzled them as to what exactly was happening, the bushes and Willow's position blocked most of the events from their eyes, but they could hear certain things that roused their curiosity.

Once he'd had his fill, he pulled away and glared at her as she rested limply against him. "That was a stupid thing to do, Willow. I could've easily killed you."

"Oh, shut up and say thank you, you impossible cretin," she muttered at him crossly. Tapping into the earth, she felt for a spring and pulled the energy into herself. The open wound closed over and she sat up.

"Thank you," he repeated dutifully.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" she pertly asked. Opening her hand, a familiar shape rested on her palm and she handed it to him. "Here. But if you dare go Angelus on me, I'll stake you."

Accepting the ring, he also accepted her admonition. Helping her rise, they made their way to the waiting group. Quickly she introduced them. "Vampire, with a soul. No danger," she explained in her introduction. At Angel's questioning look, she answered. "I figured we shouldn't be keeping secrets from each other. It'll be more dangerous in the long run. Besides, they are bound to notice your eating habits. Or lack thereof."

Strider had heard of such creatures but thought them mostly myth. "Are you sure?"

"I have known him and fought beside him for several years. Believe me, he's the least of our worries," she witheringly said.

"Spike's here?"

"Haven't seen him but it's all to likely. And stop it, Angel, he is on our side and unable to harm any living creature." She scowled and slapped his arm.

They traveled on in silence for a while, all the travelers caught up in their own thoughts. As night started to fall, they started to think about setting up camp somewhere. Angel paused and seemed to sniff the air, grasping Willow's arm and pulling her to a stop close to him. "Evil is coming towards us. I don't recognize it."

"Through fear of accessing your own abilities?"

He glowered at her darkly before answering. "No. It is unlike anything I've ever come across before. Definitely not Glory and nothing truly demonic. More like a half-breed."

"Zombie?"

"No. More like a ghost but more corporeal," he slowly replied.

Strider looked between the two, stupefied. "It this kind of thing commonplace for you?"

"Yes." "Definitely." Two voices answered in unison.

"Ring. Baggins." A sibilant voice hissed from the shadows. Three riders in black appeared before them in the clearing they had been walking towards.

The hobbits froze and drew into each other's warmth, trying to become as small as possible. Strider stood in front of them, finding that he was unable to move to attack or move them to a safer location. They Nazgul were not holding him in place. Rather, it was his indecision regarding the hobbits and his travel companions.

Willow sniffed dismissively. "Do we look like peddlers to you?"

"Baggins," they chorused in reply.

Feeling the four little ones draw closer to her and hearing a sword pull free from its sheath, Willow held up her hands. A bolt of witch fire form and she sensed the darkness before her. It lay heavily in the area, devouring the available room in its insatiable hunger. Idly moving it on her palms, she lavished attention on it until it was a potent force.

"BEGONE!" She let it loose and the horses shrieked as it roared their way, slamming into one of the riders and sending him flying off and into the woods.

The horses bolted and the riders hung on, not really shocked but in a state of shock. That thing was no elf. Nor was it an Istari. But she carried with her a fierce power they could not understand. Their master would be displeased that they had yet to retrieve the Ring but would want to know of this invader's presence.

"Willow?" Angel asked, seeing her paling face. He could hear the rapid beating of her heart speed up instead of slowing down. "Ground yourself in the living. Don't follow the dead ones on their journey."

Sam instinctively clasped her hand, willing strength into her. The pressure within her eased and she smiled her thanks before they walked off in another direction, away from the clearing and the fleeing dark robed beings.

"Lovely performance, Willow, though your repartee could use some work." Giles' voice came from their right.

"Giles!" She broke free from the group and hugged him tightly, beginning to babble. "I was so worried and scared. And Angel's been here for weeks. And there's freaky things that I don't understand here. And my magics both painful and easy to use here. And the land is both harder and easier to navigate. And I met up with these nice people, except for the tall guy. He's got some secrets and there's some really horrible feelings to a lot of the people. And…"

"Whoa, Willow. Breathe, my girl. That's it. Take it easy," Giles soothed her, rubbing her back idly. "Angel."

"Giles." They clasped hands for a moment, before Angel asked him where he was.

"With Tom Bombadil," he replied. "You were scared? Imagine how I felt to see you go against three Nazgul."

"Naz-what?" she asked, pulling back from the hug finally.

"Nazgul, the Wraith Kings. Servants to the Dark Lord Sauron," he explained. "And you sent them fleeing like they were common delivery boys."

"Well, they were quite rude, talking about a ring and Baggins. Honestly, do we look like traveling salesmen?"

Giles took a quick look at the group, eyes settling on the man with the drawn sword. "He does-the one with the sword."

"Strider? He says he's a ranger," she shrugged. "Put that thing away, he's no enemy to us. Giles, this is Merry, Pippin, Sam, Strider, and Master Underhill."

"Frodo," he corrected.

"Frodo, then," she repeated. "Everyone, this is Rupert Giles."

"How do you do," he greeted them all.

"I'd be better if we were on our way," Strider snapped, replacing his sword. This whole situation was to full of mystery for his comfort. He almost preferred it when it was just the six of them. At least then he could control what was going on. "Unless you'd prefer to split up?"

"Lead on, Strider," she replied caustically. "Far be it for us to hold you back." They journeyed in silence for a time, slogging their way through the darkened forest and the enclosure of the brush. But they walked on into the night, uncomplaining. The fear of the Nazgul was still upon them.

They stopped early in the morning and looked out over the landscape. Behind them was the forest they had traveled in for days. Before them, a vast marshland awaited them. "You have got to be kidding me."

Strider said nothing to this comment, just lead the way into the foggy morning. In the evenings, after slogging through the cold and sticky mud, they would rest in front of a fire on relatively stable ground. Willow established a perimeter of safety and let Angel fed from her. Merry and Pippin were fascinated by the process and watched.

"Doesn't it hurt?" Pippin finally asked the question that had been in his mind since the beginning. They were resting just in sight of an old fortress. Strider had called a halt to their trek early because they were nearing the ford and would need all their strength to cross it.

"Not really," Willow replied, resting against Strider's legs. Currently, the ranger was combing his fingers through her hair, trying to help her relax and rest. It had not escaped his attention that she was always the first up and the last to go to sleep. The toll her magic was taking on her was showing in her pale face and nearly bony thin form, for eating had become painful to her.

"Why not?" he asked curiously.

She yawned, closing her eyes for a moment. "It's kind of hard to explain. Part of it is that I'm used to it and Angel's very gentle. The rest has to do with the…accident that robbed me of my sight, it damaged many of my pain sensors."

"What are those?"

"Pippin, hush." Merry scolded him. "Let Willow rest."

"But she doesn't mind answering my questions," he protested. "Do you?"

"Not at all," she yawned again, rubbing her eyes. "But, I will still be able to answer them later. For now, my dearest Pippin, allow me a moment to rest."

"Besides, it is your turn to make dinner," Sam reminded him.

Grumbling good naturedly, Pippin joined him by the fire. It was a restful evening until a howl pierced the night. The campers jumped in fright, "Oz," Giles greeted.

"And Spike," Angel's voice rumbled low in his throat. The blonde vampire entered the camp, followed by a wolf.

The wolf bounded over to Willow and curled up at her feet. Nudging her gently, he felt her hand brush gently against his fur and growled approvingly. From his position behind her, Strider tensed. She mumbled chidingly, "Oz. Come on, stop this silly game. You didn't go to Tibet to learn how to toy around and scare people. Transform into your human form."

He did so, with a sigh. "You sure know how to ruin my fun, Willow."

"What are you?" Strider asked, studying the young man.

"Werewolf," Oz replied. "Relax, I am no danger to you or anyone here. Unless, of course, you intend to hurt my pack or me, then I shall cheerfully kill you."

"Rest assured that I have no such intentions," he murmured.

"Then we shall have no problems," he replied. Nodding at everyone, he returned to his wolf form.

"Spike," Angel acknowledged. "How are you doing?"

"Doing fine," he replied, smirking. "I ate a nice demon before my arrival. How are you holding up, Peaches?"

"I am just fine," he ground out.

"Feeding off of Red? Doesn't that violate some code you, the mighty protector of the night, has?"

"I could easily feed off you," he pointed out.

"Hah! You and what army?"

"Spike, my boy, you and I both know who is the superior hunter here."

In reply, the British vampire bared his teeth in a feral smile. "Yeah, but he's asleep at Red's feet. And now that I've taken to fighting and eating our own kind-you know what they say about you being what you eat, pig boy-my skills have vastly improved."

"SILENCE!" Giles practically roared. In reality, his voice did not rise above a whisper, for all its power. "Take your silly and vain pandering elsewhere, can't you see Willow's sleeping? Poor girl does not need this kind of disrespect. Show her some consideration."

Angel turned away, ashamed. "I should stop."

Spike scoffed. "As if she would let you starve yourself."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

Spike grimaced. "I can't believe I'm going to say this but…as per your earlier suggestion, you may feed off of me. Until we find a more practical, workable solution."

Oz stiffened and a rumbling, warning growl erupted from his throat. The warning caused Strider to tense and look about, though his hand continued to soothe the girl before him. From the darkness, a woman emerged and studied the motley crew.

A striking beauty stood with her horse, poised underneath the dimly lit sky. She waited for a while before speaking. "The Nine are gathering together. They will pursue the Ring."

"That's the second time we've heard about this ring," Angel commented. "What is this all about?"

Silence greeted his question. Tension filled the air so thickly that they could feel it hanging over them.

"Why doesn't anyone answer?" a tired voice asked. Though soothed by Strider's administrations, Oz's tense body had awakened her. "We have been set upon by them once. Surely, if they are coming after us again, we deserve to know why."

Frodo cleared his throat, absolutely petrified by his own coming admission. "It's me."

Willow turned towards the voice, "Frodo?" she asked, voice infinitely gentle.

"My name is really Frodo Baggins. I have a Ring of power. Or so Gandalf tells me, that is why I am on this journey. We are taking it to Rivendell where it should be safe from its master. It is believed to be the One Ring. It belongs to Sauron, the Dark Lord. He wants it back-and it wants to go back to him. Years ago, so many that it has passed into legend, he made it and others. With his Nazgul, he planned to bind the other ring bearers to him and rule the world in darkness."

"How did he lose it?" Angel asked, interested. But he wasn't looking at the hobbit. His eyes watched Giles with hawkish intensity, the watcher knew this already. None of what they were hearing surprised the man.

This time, the answer came from Strider. "There was a great war. A man, Isildur, took his father's broken sword and was able to defeat Sauron. He separated him from the Ring and took it for his own. In time, it betrayed him to the darkness and was lost-until a creature we know as Gollum found it."

"Then how did it end up in his possession?" Spike asked, also watching Giles. His eyes then went to where Willow rested. Exhaustion screamed off of every pore. If the watcher had arranged this, she'd be devastated. That betrayal was not something she needed in addition to all she'd already been through.

"My uncle found It in a cave and kept It for years, all unknowing of what It truly was. It came into my keeping when he left on his journey," Frodo quietly explained.

"So, what does it do?" Willow suddenly asked.

"All I've seen It do is grant the wearer invisibility," Frodo replied.

She snorted inelegantly. "That's it? Just does this?" With a wave of her hand, she vanished from sight. After a moment, she returned. "Any middling practitioner of magic can do that. It is an elementary spell."

The newcomer finally spoke again, her voice still in the night. "In the hands of Its master, It would wield far greater powers. It is the Ring that has sustained the life of the Nazgul. It brings longevity to all who possess It."

"These Nazgul. Who are they anyway?"

"They are servants of Sauron. Once, they were the kings of men. Now, they are wraiths. Not quite dead, but not quite alive," Arwen spoke in answer to Angel's question. The blonde and brunette males unnerved her somehow. There was something about them that spoke of unnatural life.

The redhead and the man with the odd wire glasses about his eyes spoke or terrible and wonderful power. Power that trod the thin line between elf and Istari magic. It was unnerving to her, as far as one could unnerve an elf.

What really bothered her was that Strider had barely acknowledged her. Glancing up at her only once, he had resumed his care for the redhead. Then she realized upon closer examination that the girl was absolutely worn out.

"Anyway we can lose them, pet?" Spike asked.

"The ford is just beyond those trees. It is difficult for them to cross over running water on foot. They would have to return to their master to get more suitable mounts for such an approach. Though it is shallow enough that they might make an attempt," she answered.

"Bridge?" Angel asked.

"None," Strider answered.

Oz transformed, quietly offering his opinion. "Why don't we split up and let Willow and the Lady before us take the little ones across while we distract them?"

"They would hear the song of the Ring," Strider told them. "It's how they've stayed on our path."

"Well, thanks for telling us," Angel sarcastically said.

"I didn't know if I could trust you," he defended himself.

"May I have It?" Willow asked, ignoring them.

Frodo hesitated for a moment, reluctantly handed it over. The golden band pulsed and they gasped, feeling its power-all except Willow and Arwen. Both females seemed to be curiously immune to Its powerful siren song. With a look of intense concentration on her face, Willow encased it in a hard shell of amber.

Though It strained against the enchantment, the Ring was powerless against this spell and decided to wait. Of all things It knew, waiting patiently was one of them and pondered the company It was now with. This new group was different. They were unlike anything in this world-especially the two males whose essence sung of death. And the young man who reeked of the untamed wild.

The redhead puzzled him, as did the mild man with ringed eyes. Both exuded a familiar essence it felt it should know.

"Brilliant, Willow," Giles murmured as she tiredly passed It back to Frodo-and promptly fell unconscious. Until he had seen Gandalf and been released from his binding oath to perform no magic, he could not offer her help. But the guilt ate at him whenever he chanced a look at her rapidly paling form.

Her reserves of strength were nearly depleted. He made the decision. "Oz's plan is the best one we have. How far to safety after we cross the Ford?"

"Not far. My Lord Elrond should be on his way even now," she replied.

Oz nodded to her. "I'm Oz. That's Giles and beside him are Spike and Angel. You obviously already know Strider, but the girl with him is Willow. I don't know who the rest of our company are."

"Exceeding your word limit, mate?"

He smiled thinly at Spike, fangs slightly bared. "No one else seemed inclined to make the introductions, so I deemed it necessary."

"Lady Arwen, forgive our lack of manners," Strider apologized, making everyone aware of her name before introducing the hobbits. "This is Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin." Once that was out of the way, they went back to planning their escape.

"The only thing that I would add is for Lady Arwen to take Frodo on her horse and get him in the clear," Giles suggested. "He is the one they are in pursuit of, the rest of us are incidental."

"Very well," she agreed.

TBC…may be.