Whoa... Thank you so much, Ravenswing14337; you're the third person to speak down to that stfu n00b and to tell me to write what I want. From now on, no flames at all please; they're nasty, evil and shouldn't be allowed. (For anyone wanting to know what this is about, look at the review from stfu n00b and then the one from Ravenswing14337, both on chapter one; if any of you readers out there have been ground into the dust by this 'stfu n00b', please let me know. We all have to stand together!)

I also want to thank Ithil-valon for reviewing all of the chapters on this story and telling me what she thought; Silver and I are made up that we're acknowledged by the 'big dogs' as Ravenwing14337 puts it!

Silver POV

My Father… Lord Elrond! I just couldn't seem to take it in. I stared at him from my place at his side. We were in his study, listening to Gandalf as he explained what had happened. Apparently, as a child, the forces of evil had captured me and another girl from Rohan and had transported us to another world, where we had lived the last 18 years of our lives. I was confused. How could this be true…? What about my brothers?

"That's why they never looked like me," I muttered; Gandalf stopped mid-sentence.

"What?"
"My family, in the Other World didn't look like me… Now I know why…" I replied flatly; Father put his hand on my arm and squeezed it gently. I put my hand on his; it felt so right that he was my Father… I did belong here… more than I ever belonged in the Other World. Gandalf went to go on, explaining about spells that could have been used and stuff, but I interrupted again,

"You spoke of Rohan?"

"Yes, that's where the other girl is from," Gandalf said impatiently, frowning at me slightly with his big, bushy, eyebrows; I smiled smugly.

"Her name wouldn't be Iana, would it?" I asked mysteriously; Gandalf and Father gave a start at the same time and stared at me.

"How did you know that?"

"Iana was my best friend in the Other World… We both had a feeling of not belonging, and she was mad on horses. She would belong in Rohan, I know it…" I answered, still smiling; Gandalf eyed me closely, suspicious.

"You seem to remember quite a lot, Silver, of this world," he muttered; I grinned at him. "Who is King of Rohan at this time?" he questioned.

"King Théoden."

"Who is King of Gondor?"

"Gondor has no King at this time. It is governed by the Steward of Gondor, Denethor, and his two sons, Boromir and Faramir. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, is the true heir to the throne," I answered, throwing an apologetic look at Aragorn who was standing in the corner, watching, with a slightly amazed look on his face.

"How do you know all this…? Surely you cannot remember…?" Gandalf murmured; I reached into my bag and drew out a book, 'The Hobbit' by J.R.R. Tolkien. I threw it to him and he caught it.

"The Hobbit?" he asked, reading the cover.

"It is the tale of Bilbo Baggins' adventure to the Lonely Mountain with twelve dwarves and you, Gandalf. A man in my world wrote it, and it was enjoyed by millions around the world. He created this world in his mind, and opened it to us through books. A few years after he wrote this book, he was asked to write another. At first the main character was going to be Bilbo again, but then he decided on another character. He created a nephew for Bilbo, named Frodo Baggins. This story is much more serious than the last, filled with danger and evil. It is the story of courage shown by a tiny person in the face of a huge and powerful evil. It is the story of the One Ring… The Lord of the Rings…" I informed them. They all just stared at me, not saying anything. I turned to Aragorn. "That's how I knew what had happened to Frodo, how I knew who you were… That's why I was frightened of you at first… You're all the characters in my favourite story book," I told him, longing for him to understand… I needed him, above everyone else, to understand.

"But how… How did this man know…" he whispered; I felt Father's hand tighten on my arm.

"That means… you know the future…" he said quietly, almost as if he were afraid to say it.

Iana POV

A dull throbbing pain in my head woke me. I opened my eyes and waited for them to refocus before sitting up. I looked around at the room I was in; it had a large window that was open, letting in the summer air and sunshine. I sniffed all of the wonderful smells, delighted to be in Middle-Earth. I was in a large double bed with warm, cream covers, and wolf skins draped over it. Grinning uncontrollably, I stood up and looked at myself. My jeans were wrecked; mud was splattered everywhere and clung to them. My top was in a slightly better condition, with only a few small splats of dirt on it. I shook my head, looked around for my bag and found it on a table on the other side of the room. As I strode over to it, I passed the window; I stopped and looked out of it, marvelling at the sight.

Mountains were visible in the distance; grassy, rocky plains stretched from their foot all around the city. As I watched, people were bustling away in the city, unaware of my gaze. Horses were being ridden around by soldiers, animals roamed around on their own, children ran after them giggling. I couldn't believe it; I was actually stood in the capital of Rohan … I was in a story…

I shook my head again to clear it, before carrying on to my bag. I took it to the bed and unzipped it to check that no water had gotten through the material. As soon as I was sure it hadn't, I sorted through my clothes for something clean to wear. I picked up a black top with the words 'Don't ps me off, I'm running out of places to hide the bodies…' across the front in white. I smiled as I remembered how the top had frightened people away from me for weeks… I looked around and spotted a pair of dark grey jeans lying next to my pile of books. I picked them up and changed hurriedly; I had no idea whether people around here knocked before entering…

I put on a necklace with a small silver swirl and amethyst stones, before rediscovering my boots at the side of the bed. As I sat down to put them on, I noticed a small painting hung on the wall. I quickly laced and strapped the boots up and jumped up to look at the painting. It was a small girl, standing next to what looked like a light grey mare and a very young black colt. I looked at the background, trying to tell where it was. As first I couldn't find anything remotely familiar, but then I noticed a very small city at the back. I squinted at it, then realised I was looking at Edoras from the outside. I smiled and winced as it stretched the cut on my face; touching it carefully, it seemed to have begun healing. I silently thanked Éowyn for cleaning it before infection could set; I just hoped it wouldn't leave a scar…

I turned back to the mystery of the girl and horse; who were they? Why were they in this room? I scratched my head, and then discovered my hair needed brushing. I found a brush in my bag, and then stood looking at the painting as I brushed. I almost kicked myself as I remembered that the artist usually put their name in a corner of the picture. I threw the brush back into the bag then took the picture down, looking at the corners; nothing. Then an idea hit me and I turned the painting over. There, in black ink, was both the artist's name and the title of the picture. My suddenly shaking hands almost dropped the picture as the words penetrated a fog that seemed to lie over my mind, as if someone had deliberately decided which memories I could and couldn't remember. There, in front of me, was my name on the back of the painting: 'Iana, 6, Florian and Naiad, Théoden,' I couldn't believe it… How did Théoden know me?

My whole body started shaking uncontrollably, and I hung the picture back up. I repacked my bag and shoved it underneath the bed. Noticing my black cardigan hung over a chair, I grabbed it and threw it on, trying to believe that I would stop shivering if I got warm. Compared to my other clothes, the cardigan was inexplicably clean; I shrugged and opened the door out of the room. Nobody was around, so I stepped out and closed the door. Suddenly, a feeling of déja-vu swept over me; as if I had done this before. I shook it off and started walking along the corridor. The fog in my head was swirling around, trying to make me understand something, something important, whilst the pounding in my head grew worse with each step.

At the end of the corridor there was a small set of steps, I stopped there and looked out. They led to back to the throne room, where King Théoden, Théodred, Éomer and Éowyn were sitting on benches at a small table together, no guards in sight. I gulped, not knowing what to do.

Suddenly, the pain in my head seemed to explode. I cried out and clutched my head, desperately trying not to let the group in the room know I was there.

The idea for this pain in the head came from a massive head-ache that I got after reading 'The Two Towers' into the small hours of the night with only a small light for company; take note, DON'T DO IT!

Hugs!

Iana XxX