Standard disclaimer applies. I can't promise that all updates will come this quickly, but I do hope this chapter isn't too cheesy and that Anne's personality doesn't seem so very different from the first chapter, which I have to admit, was a little angsty.

(Like the last chapter this one is unbeta-ed. Sorry for any mistakes.)

Thank you for your kind reviews,
Enjoy!

Orc Queen

"The trick is to never show your fear," Christopher whispered to her.

The lion in the pen lazed around on its back, kicking its feet up and down as if dreaming of running. Her friend laughed at the scene.

"Never forget they can over power you at any time. They were born to be wild and free, unattached to logic or reason. You must always show your dominance because they know instinctively when the alpha becomes the omega."

"Never show your fear," Anne had repeated pressing her fingers onto the glass of the pen, "the rules of a pack."

"The best kind of rules," Christopher nodded, a smart funny expression on his face, "are the rules everyone in natural world, humans and animals alike, are able to understand."

Anne woke from the dream just as the sun was beginning to rise in the east. The forest was covered by a thin layer of mist and her hair and cloths were damp, but she was cool and comfortable despite the moisture.

Lying back down she tried to enjoy the relative peace and relaxation the moment offered. They would be up and moving in just a little over an hour, another endless day of walking, but despite the beauty of their world Anne wished for her banana yellow Renault 5.

Christopher would have chosen some crazy, old motorcycle. He had always been the trendy, out of this world, retro type of guy. The type who said he was going to go for a walk and came back two months later with some amazing story of how he was picked up by a traveling circus and learned how to play trashcans for money. He started working with lions about three years before she disappeared, and the dream had been one of the last memories she had of him, of his lions and his rules.

How true they ended up becoming for her. If he could have seen her now he just might have been proud.

"You are up early, Lady Anne."

Anne sighed into the cool mist, the celestial voice so very familiar now. "I had a dream."

Turning her head to the side, she was able to spot Glorfindel leaning against a large tree. She could just make out his profile, his long beautiful neck and the elegant turn of his body.

"A dream?" he asked softly.

He wished for her to continue. The suggestion was in his voice, in the dramatic arch a single brow. Anne smiled. In the weeks since she began traveling with the trio of elves, she had become more accustomed to them.

Their beauty no longer alienated her. She couldn't say she was completely comfortable with them, but she considered them friends. They were quieter, less rambunctious than her orcs, but she could appreciate their calmer manners. Even so, the ease which she had felt with the orcs never settled in with the elves. No, it couldn't settle in. Not with her secret past, her connections, her own beliefs about their sworn enemies.

Anne returned to her prone position on her back, lifting her arms above herself and her head, stretching. The feeling of her muscles expanding, her joints tensing and popping felt wonderful in the cool mist.

"It was nothing serious."

Glorfindel crossed his arms, his eyes returning to some distant point far off in the plains below the forest where they made camp. "Dreams hold significant meaning and are powerful tools for looking inside oneself. Do Easterlings not believe this?"

"We don't really talk about dreams." Anne lied. She had very little knowledge of the Easterling cultures, but most people assumed because of her skin color and build that she was one of their ilk and she never corrected them. While not a great ethnic group to be a part of in Middle Earth in the present times, her appearance couldn't be helped and it was much easier than the truth.

He was silent but Anne felt as if he wanted her to say something more. He pushed her in small ways to share over the past few weeks they'd been traveling together. Anne both resented and craved it; a part of her, the old part of her, wanted nothing more than to talk about everything and anything, but the new her, the one which embrace caution and silence, made her hesitate and stall. She was stuck between two worlds, two selves. The self that protected her throughout the years she been trapped here in this world, and the self which radiated with life and hope.

The further away she was from Mordor, the more she felt the old her start to bubble and rise and the less safe she felt. Anne wanted to laugh. For some reason Mordor, the place of her imprisonment for so many months, was the place she felt the safest. Along the coast of the Sea of Nurnen, with the black water and white tipped waves, the purple tinted air, the fire in the clouds that was no longer there...how pathetic. It was like the old saying went: better is the old enemy than the new.

Nevertheless, the new she had to face to survive. And she would survive. She had done so from much worst.

"I dreamed about my friend. He worked with large beasts that were similar but more beautiful than wargs." She paused to glance at Glorfindel. He was looking at her again, his gaze calm and politely interested. "He was telling me about the rules of animals, of nature."

"Rules?"

"Never show fear." Anne reiterated Christopher's words. "Animals know when the alpha becomes the omega."

"Alpha and omega?" They sounded strange on Glorfindel's music voice. "I have never heard those words before. What do they mean?"

There was no reason for him to have heard Latin words. "They aren't of the common tongue. They come from a very old language meaning first and last, the beginning and the end."

"What is this old language?"

Anne bit her lips. "I don't know the name."

Glorfindel shifted silently against the tree. "Strange, maybe Erestor has heard of them." She didn't ask about Erestor or who he was. She already knew, but Glorfindel, ever polite, explained. "He is one of the lords who reside in Imladris and chief counselor to Lord Elrond, you will meet him when we arrive."

"He is also not very amusing." Elrohir cut in as he'd been listening to the conversation and was now no longer able to contain himself.

"Aye," Elladan agreed joining the conversation as well. "More scholar than warrior, but decent enough in battle."

Glorfindel turned to the twins who rose from their pallets and started packing. "Do not take Erestor's skills with a sword lightly, my friends."

Elladan chuckled. "I fear the bite of his wit more than his sword."

"Very true, brother, do you remember those early lessons in arithmetic?" Elrohir pretended to shiver in fear.

"I recall the both of you running off into the woods." Glorfindel laughed. "Erestor never failed to send me after the two of you as he had more 'important matters to deal with'. Your sister was never so difficult."

Before she could stop herself, Anne voiced her own opinion. "What's wrong with math - I mean arithmetic? It's not that bad."

The trio of elves regarded her strangely and it was only then she realized her mistake. Women, especially human women, probably didn't learn how to read or write or do math. She was already going over the excuses in her mind for such a hiccup when Elrohir tapped her shoulder.

"You are educated?"

Too late to swallow her words now. "Somewhat. My father was an eccentric man, a type of Rena-" Anne held her tongue. That lie wouldn't work. They didn't know about the Renaissance. "He was a man with a wide range of interests and an avid teacher of whatever he learned."

Elladan laughed. "You are a strange mortal woman."

Elrohir scoffed. "You are barely acquainted with mortals, especially mortals of the female persuasion."

Anne felt herself ease as the conversation shifted to mortal women and then to elven women, and smiled when Glorfindel apologized to her with a meaningful glance. Anne walked up to him shaking her head.

"I don't mind their conversation. I guess men are the same no matter the race."

"And women?" Glorfindel inquired cocking his eyebrow. Anne mocked him by raising her own.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, my lord."

Another week passed and Anne felt herself become ever more familiar and comfortable with the elves. True, she was never the most talkative of their little rag tag group - well she was the only raggedy one, but conversation was more fluid and less stagnant and awkward.

Elrohir and Elladan never failed in their attempts in trying to rile her, but Glorfindel remained steadfast and calm next to her, a cornerstone of her new life. They in turn trusted her more with everyday that passed.

It was because of that trust she was allowed to wander off by herself when they rested.

"How far are we from Rivendell?" Anne asked Elrohir after a long day of walking.

The elf shrugged. "Not more than four days or so. You are a fine walker for a human," he winked. "I thought when we found you it would take us at least two weeks more to reach home. Thankfully, you have proven me wrong, my lady."

Anne smirked at the backhanded compliment. Traveling with elves was a piece of cake compared to orc travel. At times, Anne found the elves' pacing rather lax and it grated on her nerves, but at the same time she really couldn't allow herself to do more. Questions would arise and questions required answers that she couldn't give.

It was strange really. Walking this much, at this pace, in her old life would have killed her - or brought on a serious case of vomiting and dehydration. Who knew spending almost a year enslaved followed by rigorous traveling was the best dieting option. Women everywhere would have paid a pretty penny for such a regiment, pain and loss aside.

"I will take that as a compliment," Anne replied rising from her crouching position, her mind slipping back to the present. She wiped her hands on her pant leg. "Is there a water source around here?" she asked looking at her dirty hands.

"There is a spring I heard towards the south." Elladan answered frowning over his shoulder. "It's a fair distance, but not too far as to be dangerous. Would you like some company?"

"No, but thank you. It's that direction, right?" Anne said pointing in the direction Elladan frowned at a moment before. "Just straight through the trees?"

He nodded. "A simple, straight walk, lady Anne." He paused as if he wanted to say more but shook his head as if he thought better of it. "Call us if you need anything. We will hear."

Anne patted his shoulder. "Exactly why it's better for me to be away. Tell Glorfindel not to worry when he comes back from scouting."

"Do not be surprised if he comes after you," Elladan warned with a smile. "He might even be upset with us for letting you wander about without an escort. Perhaps it is best if we avoid that fate." He mused regarding her with mock seriousness.

Anne wanted to snort - they were so chivalrous it made her want to snicker, but she appreciated the sentiment. If this had been in a fan fiction, now would have been the time to have stood up for women's rights, proclaimed to the heavens that women were equal to men and other such modern ideals of womanhood.

This wasn't a story though, this was real, and men and women were different, obviously. She was different. Despite having lived and traveled in this world for a little over two years now, she was still relatively new and more than that she wasn't stupid. She would have been an idiot to take her opinion rather than an elf who was centuries old and far more experienced.

"I won't be far, just straight through the woods, but I promise to yell really loud and run really fast if anything happens."

Elrohir laughed heartily, his dark hair slowing around him. "The maiden has sound reasoning, brother."

Elladan smiled flicking her ear. "Strange woman, be off with you then."

Anne was proud of that fact that she refrained from saluting the elf and saying 'aye, aye, captain', and even more proud that she found the spring with very little difficulty about ten minutes later.

The forest was darkening in dust but even with her poor eyesight, even by human standards, she managed to stumble across the spring. It was small, shallow, and cold, but it did a fine job cleaning her hands and sweaty face. A bath would have to wait even if it had been at least a week and a half since her last one. How gross did she smell? The elves either had a horrible sense of smell or were too polite to say anything despite their relative cleanliness everyday. Anne was inclined to think it was the latter.

Sighing up at the trees a thought struck her like an arrow.

There was no one around, no one to stop her from doing what she wanted. A strange desire stung her heart.

She could leave.

She could run away back to the orcs. A human trying to find orcs - how ridiculous did that sound? "Very," she whispered to herself, but the urge remained, its beat steady in her heart, rising in tempo with every passing moment.

Looking down at the stream she noted its southbound flow. They were on higher ground and if she wanted she could make her way down to the plains and double back to south Dunland. All she had to do was trail the Misty Mountains. She could try to out run the elves, stick to the water, but they would catch her, right? She didn't have enough time.

Her feet moved towards the spring and she stood right on the edge. She could run. She could try. And then as suddenly as it came the feeling was gone leaving her shivering.

Walking to a large tree with a tangle of plump roots, Anne sat and leaned back against the rough tree bark and willed herself to relax. She couldn't just leave the elves, turn her back on their kindness. For now she had to stay with them.

One day she could leave and find the orcs again to at least tell them goodbye. Something in her pulled her to them, but the thought of talking to Elrond, of thinking that he could maybe help her was like ambrosia. She couldn't deny herself to chance, if not to go back home, then at least to understand why she was here.

And time was running out.

She had a vague memory, who knew if it was true or not, that he left two or three years after the war. Before, when she was with the orcs, she denied herself of thinking she would ever talk with him or Gandalf, but now she had the chance. Maybe she had a chance, but when the time came would she ask and reveal herself?

Anne turned her thoughts away from the future and focused on the sky above. The canopy was thick but she could make out part of the orange and purple sky and it reminded of camping trips she used to go on with her family.

Her mother would make corn bread and chili in their Dutch oven over the fire, her brother and sister and she would be searching for sticks to roast smores on, while her dad cracked really lame jokes at their expense. In a way, her family reminded her of orcs, hate and blood fighting aside. They were loud and lively, and for a moment Anne let herself dwell in her memories thinking that Glorfindel would soon be there to bring her back to camp.

But it wasn't the elf lord that brought her back to reality, it was the forest.

In the dim light, the trees and animals went quiet and still. She had been out in nature so long now that the stillness was like a slap in the face, and Anne knew enough to know that she wasn't alone.

Slowly she placed her hand against her boot where she kept her dagger, a gift from Anak after her enslavement, an orcish dagger beautiful and dark that she could show no one, and brought it out cautiously. Her breathing she was glad to note remained even, but her heart was a different story all together.

Mag'har.

A voice on the wind, thin and haunting. Anne thought she was hallucinating.

Mag'har.

Anne stood and turned around, her dagger out. "W-Who's there? How do you know that name?"

The pure, the uncorrupted one. That is your name, Mag'har. Peace be with you.

The only ones that knew that name, the only ones that called her that were the orcs. No one else. The distant voice, so uncanny and striking, was not orc. It did not sound like Black Speech. In fact it sounded like fire on wind, or wind on water, or how one thought a clear bright night might sound.

"How do you know that name?" Anne asked again, twirling around. She felt no fear as a sense of serenity embraced her, but the sound seemed to be coming from all around her, the location both endlessly distant and so very near.

Mag'har, I am with you. Take peace with the elves. In time, I will send you again.

Then it was gone.

Anne fell back against the tree. There was a terrible pounding behind her eyes as if she had traveled a long way really fast, as if her gravity was off. That voice. What was it? Did she just hallucinate? Had the voice sent her here?

Anne squeezed her eyes shut not wanting to think about who or what was behind the voice. She sensed no evil from it, but she couldn't trust herself. She felt safest in Mordor for crying out loud. Her emotions couldn't be counted on, but the voice had been so welcoming, so beautiful. Was it God?

Anne laughed out loud at the thought, the sound high pitched and a little hysterical. She was in Middle Earth - beautiful, omnipotent voices could have come from anywhere. It could have been a Valar, but why in the world would they talk to her. Then again, why was she here - a girl from a different earth in this world. That had to merit some importance or at least some interest, right?

But what really interested her more than anything presently was the sword pressed against her neck.

TBC