A/N: A big thank you to all of my readers and especially those who leave a comment. Thank you for your kind words and advice.

Hope you enjoy this chapter! :D

Edited – 8.9.2008

Chapter Eight: The First Contact

or: How to be as cool as a cucumber

I was still groggy when I woke up so I did not really understand what had happened or where I was all of a sudden. The room where I was lying on a heap of leaves and furs was dark, only slightly illuminated by the glow of embers. There was little smoke, much less than from the fires I had made myself, and there was a wonderful herbal aroma rising from it that appeared quite soothing to me. Shadows danced over the stone walls and I noticed from my position on the floor there had once been a window in the wall but which was now completely blocked by branches of a nearby bush. My eyes were barely opened since my lids felt like lead and kept on closing. Everything was silent and peaceful - so different from the chaos of the evening it almost appeared like a dream.

The cold that seeped into my skin in the area of my neck made me aware of the semi-dry hair that was pooled beside my face. It would take forever to turn warm and dry once again, I reminded myself, but I was too tired to move it away with my hand, so I only burrowed deeper under the covers and left the wet mass outside. Just when have I taken off the elastic? I wondered, but the fog that still clung to my mind did not offer an answer. I knew I had managed to climb up the tree and that I was freezing to death by the time I had collapsed on solid ground, but not much what happened after that. I barely even recalled reaching the top.

Somehow the nightmarish revelation that I had stumbled into Middle Earth (or Arda as April would say) stood out in blazing letters in the forefront of my mind. It was not pushed to the background as I would have desired and fear once again crept into my mind.

How in the world did that happen?! It's crazy, it's ludicrous, and it can't be possible! I thought, trying to erase my memories of the Orcs and the Rangers, but alas! ... It's… it's the truth, my mind supplied and I sighed in defeat, feeling tears gather in the corners of my eyes. The injuries, the cold and everything else I had experienced and went through so far, were proof enough this ludicrous fact was real – no dream or hallucination. Deep down in my heart I was kind of glad I hadn't realised I was in Middle Earth on the first day –so I had at least a few days to sort my emotions before everything was thrust at me. If I were to meet the Orcs first… I shuddered at the idea what could have happened.

Somehow I had miraculously survived the cold, gotten to safety despite everything that had happened, despite the danger... Who had helped me? And where were they? My memory of events that happened after everything had turned black was fuzzy and fragmented at best. I remembered the feel of rough hands holding my arms and legs, the horrible cold that made my bones ache, but not who had helped me. Why was I alone?

I really have to thank them for saving my life… I thought with strong emotions of deepest gratitude. I still felt like crap though - my entire body ached and protested, and finding a comfortable position was quite hard. My arms were bruised where that man had grabbed me and from the impact with the rock in the damned canyon. Someone must have been watching over me for I did not break a rib or two when I had barrelled straight into it. As it was, I had no energy to reach out to the fire to bank it up and warm the air that had cooled significantly. My palms were stinging too and I knew that the cut and the rough bark after the cold water were not a good combination for my sensitive skin. I began to shiver slightly under the covers even though I warmed them pretty well for a person who had almost frozen to death. If only someone were here to bank up the fire…

Were the Rangers the ones who found me, I asked myself as I tried to fall asleep again in vain. I never could rest when I felt cold – my muscles ached with vengeance in such circumstances and the nightmarish memories of the battle, of the deaths I had witnessed in such a short time when I had never really seen anybody die in my world, was enough to keep me awake. Lack of bounds or guards was reassuring if they truly were the ones who found me, but somehow I was not entirely convinced it was really them. One particular fragment of a memory filled me with doubt. It featured weathered and tanned hands that were quite unlike the ones of the tall men who had followed me for days, if my gut feeling was right (and I was starting to trust it more than I used to). I've become acquainted with those hands … definitely not tanned. Then who was it?

Orcs were not on my list of suspects, which was a great relief for my poor nerves, but I've got little else to add. Was it truly a similar group to the one I'd given last rites to? It was possible... But the thought was not as comforting as I wished it was. Right then I would have preferred it to be the Rangers. At least I knew how they'd react and treat me; other people were a complete mystery. I knew very little about Arda, but too much about the circumstances of prisoners in foreign countries in throes of war in my world. I suspected that everyone here would have all the reasons in the world to treat me poorly. I was a stranger, an oddity that did not understand the language, culture and other things about them. How would they know I was not one of the enemies or some other group that wandered across Middle Earth? The animosity people of this world displayed was driving me raging mad – couldn't anybody treat me with kindness and not with suspicion and hate for once?! Why did I always have to be eyed with a dark spark of distrust, with thinly veiled promises of retribution for every misdeed on my part?

I sighed and tried to shut off my mind, but the questions kept on coming. If everyone is so bad, then why the hell had he saved your life,my mind supplied with a sarcastic tone and I had to stop my stupid rant. Where was my gratefulness now? Why did I react to them the same way they had reacted to me?

I felt a headache start at my temples when I closed my eyes with exasperation at my roller-coaster mood. From frightened to mad, from grateful to distrustful in a span of seconds… that must have been a record. The best (and most prudent) decision I could have made in the situation was to lie down and sleep before I'd do something stupid. How in the world had I become a nervous wreck I did not know but one thing was clear though – I was in no condition to be conversing or seeing anyone for the next few hours. And when they came they could have been wise enough to bring some peace offering with them, I thought – something warm and tasty would have been greatly appreciated. Perhaps then I would be inclined to believe them to mean me no harm...

However, my imagination and cold kept me wide awake for several minutes, despite the fatigue. I could observe the play of light across the walls and the floor when my heavy lids opened. There were some things placed on the ground in small heaps, but I could not make out what they were. However, it did not look frightening, so it did not warrant much attention. The room itself was carved into solid rock – there were no bricks or stones visible in the walls. It was a cell, but if it was one for holding prisoners I did not know. However, I was too tired to really contemplate things and frankly did not care one iota at the moment. I was alive… that was that mattered, or at least this was what I had tried to tell myself. One lone nagging voice of reason told me I would think differently in the morning or when the ones who had dragged me from the canyon came, but I was too exhausted to care.

If only someone would bank up the fire… My stomach was growling again. How in the world could I even think about food when everything hurt? I moved my legs closer to my body to preserve heat and to hush up my stomach. A sudden sharp sting located at an already sore area on my right calf made me hiss and stop the movement instantly. My body was already a map of aches and bruises and the sudden sharp pain only reminded me of all other injuries I had sustained. Concerned I reached down with my right arm and found a thick bandage wrapped around the protesting area.

I know I hit that rock pretty hard, but damn, does it have to hurt this bad?

Then a sudden realisation that I was lying on the bedding clothed in only few thin undergarments made me suck in my breath sharply. How had I missed such an important fact?! I sensed warm fur against the bare skin of my legs and felt oddly exposed, even while under the covers and in my underwear. Someone had undressed me! Bloody Hell!

Of course they did! You were wet and freezing for God's sake; don't freak out now… I quickly chided myself. But I felt my cheeks colour despite the logic. I would have stripped a person who had fallen into cold water and put him or her under warm covers too. There was nothing wrong with that, yet I believe I'd never felt as disturbed in my life as right then. I'd been knocked out, barely aware of being alive, thus completely at their mercy and it frightened me. Obviously they had enough time to wrap up my injury and make a fire and I was still out for a long time. If the darkness and stillness of the night was any indicator, I truly had been deep in the land of dreams for several hours since my lucky escape from the cold and wet grave.

Be grateful! There is nothing wrong and they certainly meant nothing inappropriate with this…

Despite the logical explanation of my undressed state, I wrapped the covers closer and tighter around my body. I felt helpless and at their mercy since I was too tired and beaten to do anything to fight back should they come. My saviours (or captors) were in charge here and I could not do anything in defence – my futile attempts at doing so before were evidence enough. But I was a very private person and being undressed by some unknown man or men (!) disturbed me - very much so. However, I was still wearing more clothing than when at the beach and this thought did give me a small bit of comfort. What was the real problem here was that I had no say in what had happened to my body. And I was aware I could never win a beauty contest, which only heightened my embarrassment at the situation.

I groaned in closed my eyes. This was not how I had imagined they would see me when they returned. It was humiliating. Stupid helpless female… Argh! I was an independent modern woman and not some cliché damsel in distress!

Middle Earth sucks… And I've got no clue where I am and who they are. God knows where I've landed. I just pray that I'm as far away from Mordor as possible… but even then there are Orcs and other foul things everywhere... Please, don't let me be lost in Mirkwood. I hate spiders!

The 'Hobbit' really made me appreciate the fact that the small eight-legged creatures, that liked to build nets over my window in the summer, would never grow to be that big. However… if I was in the land where spiders grew unnatural sizes, everything was possible. But who knew in what era of Middle Earth history I had landed in? Dimension travel and other fancy things was really not my thing. Who knew it was even possible! And how in the world did Tolkien stumble across it? Wasn't Middle Earth just his fantasy, an idea?

I really wished I knew where I was, but my memory of the maps was sketchy at best. April would know... and with this thought I was once again I hit with a selfish desire to have her beside me. In truth I was glad she was not in danger but safe back home. At least I hoped it was so and that others did not stumble behind me into this world too. Their being safe was one load less on my shoulders. All I knew from the maps was that the mountains I was lost in ran from east towards west. That ruled out the Misty Mountains at least, but still did not lay aside my fear and worry. I would have really liked to see Gandalf appear through that narrow door in the room. It would have made a large stone fall off my chest. But what were the chances?

Don't hope because you know nothing's ever going to go according to your plan here. Haven't the recent days taught you that much?

I sighed and found a relatively comfortable position for sleeping. There were at least four or five hours left to sunrise, I estimated. Long enough for me to get a grip on my emotions; sleep would make me forget the dull throbbing of my leg and other bruises and scratches I had collected. Perhaps appearing more vulnerable than I really was might turn out to be a good thing. It may encourage my captors to treat me kindly, I thought. Or the exact opposite would happen...one never knew. I shuddered at the idea and firmly decided to stop contemplating things that made me nervous.

Get some rest while you can… leave the worries for the next day.

Before I could fall asleep two or three minutes later, footsteps were heard at the narrow door. That instantly ripped me from the light slumber I had just fallen into. For a moment or two I had no idea what to do, but my heart started to hammer in my chest. In the next second I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.

Deep breaths, Megan … deep breaths...

The footsteps were light as if the person did not wish to disturb me. They came closer until they stopped at the fire. A shadow fell over me and I almost tensed. I know my breathing changed for a few moments, but the man moved away. For a while everything was silent then I heard him poke with a stick around the embers. He did so for some time and it almost drove me crazy. Will he stay there? Will he leave? He added a few logs and branches to the fire, banking it back up and sending wonderful warmth to me. The smell also intensified and I wondered if it came from the wood or from something clinging to the bark of the logs. I wanted to take a peek at the mysterious person, but I didn't really know what would happen once he would realise I was awake. So I decided to pretend for a while longer and wait until he left. But it seemed he would stay with me. Definitely a guard, I concluded.

What now?

He moved closer to my position and I tensed under the thick covers. I hoped my face did not betray me but it was rather too late to reverse my instinctual action. I was not a great actor and especially not after a bad day. I was too scared to really do anything smart. God knows I had enough of everything and only wanted to be left alone or be sent back home. I doubted I would ever visit Canada in my life after the nightmare I had experienced here. Orcs and Rangers – I've seen enough gory material for bad dreams for a decade or two, I thought.

With a trembling heart and clammy palms I waited for his next action which I couldn't see or sense beforehand. Suddenly a warm hand was placed on my brow. I jumped in surprise and opened my eyes.

The hand moved away momentarily in reflex to my sudden movement before it was placed back to its previous place like nothing had happened. A man was kneeling next to me and in the bright glow of the fire I could see he was dressed in a manner I had not yet encountered. Leather was draped over his shoulder and back, and he wore some sort of dark fabric around his hips that was styled like a skirt or something similar, I was not entirely sure since he was kneeling. It appeared to be made of something looking suspiciously like grass. But what was the thing that surprised me the most was his face. With deep lines, dark skin and being quite flat compared to the profile of the Rangers, he was nothing like the people I had seen in Middle Earth so far. He was also smaller than other men and his body broader. Judging by his face, he appeared to be past middle age.

My eyes had quickly moved from his body to be settled on his eyes. I always observed the eyes of a person when I first met them, and with surprise I noted there was a warm glow in them directed at me. It honestly threw me for a loop. I've been preparing myself for a nasty confrontation and now it seemed my rescuers were quite friendly.

He opened his mouth and revealed a line of stained teeth, but it might have been the fire that gave them that light shade of yellow. He then spoke in some strange language unlike the snippets of the one I heard from the Rangers. Obviously, there would be no real communication between us via words for quite some time, I sighed to myself. His voice was deep but did not appear threatening. It seemed his words were meant to console me – at least this was the impression I got. Obviously he was trying to make the remnants of fear, that must have still been reflected in my eyes, disappear. I did relax slightly but the warning that I was now in Middle Earth did not allow me to cast away all of my worries and fears so easily. But the man seemed satisfied with the level of trust I showed him. He nodded before he removed his hand and stood up again. He did everything very slowly, like he was making sure I could follow his movements. Good thinking on his part – I really was not in the mood or rested enough for quick changes in my surroundings.

The dark man walked to the door and disappeared through it into the dark with one last look in my direction. There must have been others outside. He couldn't have brought me here alone and I knew I felt hands on my legs and arms during the journey. Who was he and who were his people? Were they one of the men that fought against the kingdoms? So far, everything pointed out they were kinder than the people I had met before - this stranger was the first one who showed me a glimpse of the kindness they were capable of giving me in peaceful times. I had to know who he was.

Why didn't I learn more about Tolkien and his works?! I could have done it just for April's sake, damn it! Why oh why did the most foolish and inconsequential things in my life turn out to be so important?

I started to catalogue the people of Middle Earth I had met until now – the Rangers were a constant here; always appearing with dark hair and blue or grey eyes. No problem identifying them. The other darker skinned men were still a mystery but I started to count them among the enemies of the Rangers. Whoever was their enemy was bad, was he not? Weren't Gondorians the good guys here and the other on the side of dark, and something I should avoid at all cost? This logic would have been accurate if I had thought myself to be one of the Gondorians and people of Rohan. But, were the men who had saved my life really the enemy?

What happened to being fair to all people and not judging them before knowing all facts about their nature and beliefs? Not everything is what it seems and you should better remember that! Ungrateful!

I cringed at the reminder that I knew better than think in black and white. The world was and would be a painting done in greys. Somewhere, deep down in my heart, I was sure that Ranger was not as hostile as I had made him out to be, but he had frightened me and I was not yet prepared to analyse him and his actions in a reasonable light. It was so easy to hate those who you were afraid off than to see beyond your fears. My emotions were still running high and it would take me several days to detach myself from this emotion I had felt so strongly in the moments of battle and at the mercy of his strong grip.

Rangers were not saints and I should never dismiss the fate of the men I saw slaughtered like animals, I reminded myself. It was too horrifying and against all of my principles. But I had to let go of the fear and instinctual reactions based on the little snippets of knowledge. Men were men no matter of their skin colour and this was my firm belief; I just had to bring it back to the forefront of my mind. It was a sad truth that extreme situations give rise to extreme emotions and reactions – my momentary abandonment of the principles I followed back on Earth was proof enough. I felt ashamed of myself even though an explanation was already on my tongue.

No. This is no excuse and you know it. You know better that to fall prey to prejudice and fear of unknown. Give them a chance… I firmly berated myself.

Men here were ruled and moved by same emotions as people in my world – greed, hate, pride, love and fear… Dark forces or not, they were the same. I knew human nature was easily swayed by its lure, but hoped most were able to withstand. The knowledge that magic, dark lords and Orcs were present in this world gave me the chills. This potent mix spelled big trouble and I'd gotten just a small taste of the atrocities they both were capable of committing. Everyone seemed to be trained for combat – something that unsettled me even though I knew few people who had enrolled in the army.

Wars were brewing and raging in my world too but they were mostly just a report about the casualties on the news. What did it mean to me if ten, a hundred, or a thousand died? It's just a number. But the reality and the taste of war and battle changes when you can remember the faces of the fallen; smell the blood and gore in the air, hear the clang of weapons… Only then you truly understand what it means to be afraid, homeless and lost, to be just a number on someone's list. Faceless and full of grief… If I had perished in that meadow, in the canyon… nobody would truly mourn for they did not know me. I was suddenly just one of those refugees on the screen you never truly see. Do you remember their faces or do you only wait to hear the latest gossip about your favourite celebrity? One of our greatest human advantages – accommodation – turns to a curse in this instance. When you've seen so many similar reports, you do not care anymore or you had simply numbed with time; after all, what can you truly do for those people beside donate some money for the charity organisations and refugee aid? It's just another bloody war out of many that are waged every day – only the name of the country, of the warring sides, is changed, the reports are the same…

War and danger had never been my reality, but no so anymore. I had no choice in the matter – I was counted among the enemies of Gondor, I could feel it. I could have pretended there wasn't an age long war between light and dark going on, but that would have been a most stupid case of denial. I was in Middle Earth and this war was now my war just because of the simple fact that I was a member of the race of Men. End of story.

It made me angry; it made my blood boil. I had nothing to do with them - it was unfair and cruel to drag me in. Yet, I knew that the situation here was far more complex than portrayed in the movies. It was not only Orcs that were the enemy (and they were the cruellest adversaries of the free peoples of Middle Earth), but also other people from behind the borders of the old kingdoms of Rohan and Gondor. I learned soon enough that far too few ever stopped fighting to think what drove those men to battle against them, to fight with the Enemy. Wouldn't it have been reasonable to presume all mankind would unite in the fight against the Darkness? I knew deep in my heart I'd do anything to help them fight the Orcs, but I had no fighting skills or a stomach for battle.

Yet, it was not so simple was it?

All my thinking pointed out I should better be counted among the friends of the kingdoms and not among the smaller groups that attacked them. But the men who had saved me couldn't possibly belong to the kingdom of Rohan or Gondor… What was I to do? Whom should I trust? In the end the men were all the same – we were all the same…

These new people were a total mystery but at least one of them had treated me with kindness none other showed me until now. That would have to be good enough for some time at least, I decided. I could not pick who I met or who would help me anyway and had to be content with what I got. The brush with death I had experienced only few hours before taught me gratefulness like never before. I was so damn lucky…

OoOoO Druadan OoOoO

A loud chirp of a bird, that had decided the branches of the bush blocking the window was a nice resting place, woke me up. The first thing I noticed was that my mouth tasted foul and my eyes were like lead. I recalled the mysterious man had returned with a small bowl filled with a kind of tea or something similar that I drank obediently when he put the rim to my lips. It did not taste as bad as my mouth did now, though, and it had been warm, a fact that my stomach greatly approved of last night. It must have been a drug or something similar for I knew I fell asleep not soon after I had emptied the bowl. I couldn't remember when I had slept as tightly as that night. Was it the tea or exhaustion? Whatever it was, I was glad it kept away dreams and memories of the last days. I had enough of it during the day and wanted my nights to be free of worries.

Right then, however, I would have given my left arm to silence that damned bird. It started a loud symphony that I really couldn't appreciate. My body was sore, my ribs hurt badly and I couldn't really force myself to move a muscle. I want to sleep... A cough that suddenly ripped through my chest most painfully had me wheezing for air in no time at all.

Ah, shit… put me out of my misery now…

I groaned and turned around so that my right side was not in contact with the ground anymore. My ribs hurt and my throat felt slightly raw – not to mention that my palms itched like mad. The scratches were healing but the discomfort remained. My nose felt full and I knew that the bathing time spent in the freezing water had left me with a nice cold. It was unavoidable, really. All the time spent out in the cold with barely enough cover and food, coupled with a day spent in a downpour and now the dip in icy water…it was too much for my body to handle. The problem was I detested colds – I couldn't stand the sniffling and the bleary eyes that were my constant companions in such time.

There was still a fire burning – obviously the man had banked it back up in the early morning. It must have been pretty late by now. Judging by the light that managed to get inside the small room it was way past sunrise. No wonder I felt rested despite the general state of my health. The room itself was full of shadows since the only light came in from the window; the opening of the door was apparently turned away from the sun, hidden in the shadows of the rocks I could see. There was no doubt left that it was hewn into solid rock. I was rather puzzled by this – I could have bet there were no dwellings in the mountains, as far as my knowledge of Middle Earth was concerned.

Before I could move my eyes around the shadowed room, a sound of steps on gravel made my eyes swivel to the door. The man who had given me the tea appeared again, emerging from the shadows with a relaxed step. Another man followed him close behind and my eyes turned immediately to the new stranger. He was of the same height and width as the first man, but his face had a wispy beard and he appeared slightly older too. I was right – there was a new group of men here in the forest. Even in the shadows it was clear they had nothing in common with the murdered men, besides their slightly darker skin. Their entire appearance was something else entirely. I did not really know what to make of them, but they appeared to me to be members of some kind of a tribe. Their clothing too implied they lived more closely connected with nature than other men I had seen – and I had an eye for materials and their origins.

I was curious what they would do. I hoped they were not like the Rangers and that I would find the same warm glow in their eyes as in the night. The first man held a bundle in his arms, but what was inside, I could not fathom. He was the one to speak first. It might have been a greeting of sorts, but I did not understand a word. He tried again, but that one was unfamiliar too.

"Hello," I said with my slightly raspy voice. I could already hear my voice sound deeper, which clearly told me I had a start of a cold and no mistake.

The men seemed slightly surprised but nonetheless pleased I returned the greeting even if it was in a foreign tongue. The one with the beard nodded to himself as if in confirmation of something I had no idea of, but my attention was soon diverted when the first one gently deposited the bundle he carried beside me on the floor. He removed the lid and I realised they brought me my clothes. What took me even more by surprise was the fact this was one of the shirts from my backpack. Before I could articulate a question he said something to me – a command or a suggestion - and they walked out of the room again. Was this a hint I should dress myself? Obviously it was since they did not come back after few minutes passed.

It was when they had disappeared through the door that I had noticed the things that were placed beside the fire on its other side. My wet backpack was empty and drying beside the wall. No wonder they had to put it there since I was dripping wet last evening too. Things that were wrapped in plastic bags must have stayed mostly dry. Thank god my mother insisted on packing everything in another protective layer. I did not wish to disobey her, so I always did the same and it soon became a habit. I knew she was right about this and it paid off. My clothing must have stayed dry with only few edges slightly wet even though I had been in the water for quite some time.

Perhaps they had moved the wet clothes outside once the sun came up?

I was afraid for my mp3-player. I could not remember where I had stashed it inside the backpack. But my mind was distracted from this question by the sight of bloated paperbacks. I cringed when I saw them, their edges curling in a most ridiculous manner. Hopefully the pages had not dried in a way to make them stick together or the glue inside the back of the book got loosened, I tried to console myself. It would have been kind of hard to carry it around if it had fallen apart. I knew instinctually things that would remind me of home and of the languages of my world would become treasures in the coming days – something to keep me sane in this foreign world.

Enough of this! Get dressed then you'll take a close look at the things and see what can be done. I gave myself a firm command. Nothing would get done if I stayed under the covers.

With a pained groan I moved into an upright position while holding the blankets close so that the pleasant heat wouldn't go away. My arms felt weak and my ribs protested the movement. The spot was quite tender but nothing compared to my calf. I examined the area quite thoroughly – a large purplish bruise was there, just as on my arms where the Ranger had held me – I could see the image of his fingers on the bluish flesh. It alarmed me, but when I prodded the area it seemed my ribs were fine if a bit battered. A cold sweat wanted to gather on my brow when I realised what serious injury I had barely managed to avoid. A cracked rib or two was no small deal and a serious break might have even meant a punctured or otherwise injured lung. Combining this with a cold and the injury would have turned into a disaster. I was eternally grateful I was spared this fate and only got away with a large and painful bruise. The injury on my leg was tightly bound so there was little chance I would reopen the wound or do additional damage if I moved around. It was a struggle to do anything as battered as I was...

I reached out with my left hand and snatched up the first article of clothing. It was a red jumper – warm and fluffy enough. I hoped there would be some underwear even if that meant they went through everything in my backpack. There was none – I would have to stay in the old set, which really did not thrill me at all. I was most desperate to change my undershirt - it got soaked through with sweat the previous day.

At least it got submerged in water so maybe the smell it should have won't be a problem, eh?

I grabbed the jumper and put it under the blankets to warm it up before donning it. The thicker trousers they chose for me were good too. They were warmer than the previous pair I wore, which I had no idea in what kind of a state it was after the events of the last day. Honestly said - I did not really wish to know – the slow climb up the tree (over the rough bark and patches of resin) should have made a deal on them.

At last I was dressed – not without silent grumbling and hissing, and a few more aching spots. The jumper was easy enough even if my arms protested at some positions; it was the trousers that proved to be a bigger problem. I had to get up on my feet first, before I could try to get them on. Somehow I managed to get to my feet even if my right calf was killing me. It was more than clear that my leg was not in a good condition and the injury quite a painful one. My muscles were beaten too – from cold shock, the strain of the day and the run... Middle Earth turned out to be the most physically and psychically challenging part of my life. I was glad my rescuers were considerate enough to give me privacy – I was a wreck when I finished dressing.

When it was clear they were not yet returning I moved to the things that littered the floor. As far as I could see only the food and a few articles of clothing were affected by the water that had rushed inside my backpack through that arrow hole. I never thought I would be grateful for plastic bags that were suffocating my world in garbage. Irony of life, perhaps? Just as I was about to search through my belongings in depth, the men appeared at the door. The first one held a leather pouch in his hand which was quite unlike the one I used for the food. However, I could not get a good look at it as the other one with the beard blocked my sight. He carried a small bowl from which a nice aroma spread in the room. Breakfast!

After that suspicious tea in the evening I was not inclined to eat anything from them until I could find out what kind of people they were; despite the grumbling of my stomach and the saliva that was gathering in my mouth as I got a first muted whiff of the delicious scent. If it smelt this good when my nose was already in the first stage of a cold, how good it must have smelled to a healthy nose? It might have been they were simply trying to help me, but I was wary of strangers and even more of strange substances. That I had had a first good sleep in awhile did not count. But at the same time I was reminded these people had saved my life.

A battle raged inside me. Take the food or not? Trust them or be wary of them?

The men came closer and the one who had given me the tea in the night gestured to the pile of furs I slept on. He obviously wished me to sit down there. I decided to obey his command – anything to remain in his good graces. Beside, I was not really ready to be standing and walking around and I was curious what this meeting was all about. With a slight limp I returned to the spot and with a grimace of discomfort sank down to the pile of furs. My ribs were really sore and I was still afraid I might have cracked one of them. I curled my good leg close to me and stretched the other out.

They both sat down a few hands lengths away from me. I could not help myself but to gaze at their clothing. I had never seen anything like it up close. The few pictures of native tribes from all around the world could never do justice to the garments. The craftsmanship was simple if I compared it to mine – they did not have many stitches it seemed but were made from a single cloth and hide. Obviously these men were impervious to the cold since their calves, arms and a large portion of the torso remained exposed to the air. I was overdressed compared to them.

Oddly enough, I was not scared of these two men who sat before me anymore – there was something in their faces, something that spoke of tranquillity and content which fascinated me. Their weathered faces seemed to tell a story of a life lived in the woods, under the sun, just as their skin and hands told of endless hours outdoors. But even though they were roughened by the weather, their faces were not as hard as the one of the Rangers'. Their dark eyes did not hold the steel all other men I had encountered did, but glowed with kind warmth that was, oddly, directed at me. No, it seemed there was nothing I should fear from them.

We observed each other in silence for some time before I was assaulted by a mild cough; after it was over the stranger with the wispy beard started to speak - slowly, careful and so that I would catch every syllable; almost as if he was waiting for me to recognize a few words of the language I heard for the first time in my life. I did not really know what to think of it but looked at him with eyes that showed no comprehension. The tongue was a strange one – it brought back memories of a time I started to learn Japanese which is completely different from my mother tongue; impossible to understand at first, but fun to speak later on.

After a few sentences the man shook his head slightly as if disappointed I did not understand him at all and I felt like an ungrateful fool sitting there. I really wished I could understand him – it would not make only his but also my life easier. I could perhaps find a way back home – it would be logical that if I came here somehow I could return in that fashion too. But a warning was already forming in my mind that it would have been best that nobody knew where I came from – it would be too dangerous. What if they could come to my world? Perhaps Orcs would not have had a chance against modern weapons, but how long it would take them to learn or acquire them too? I rather believed them to be smarter than how they were portrayed than to underestimate them and make a colossal mistake.

The man with the wispy beard exchanged a few words with the man I had seen first before he turned back to me. I had to be focused on him and not on my inner monologue, I chastened myself. I had to find out more about these men.

"Ghân," he said and placed the palm of his right hand on his chest, then turned it towards me in question. His eyes held encouragement in them that chased away the last vestiges of fear I had lingering in my mind. I had to take what was given to me and make the best of it.

"Megan," I said and placed my hand to my collarbone too.

The man known now as Ghân repeated my name silently; gave me a nod and a small smile then pointed at the first man. "Achâk," he said and I repeated after him. They both smiled and nodded. For the first time it seemed my stay in Middle Earth could turn out to be better than I expected.

A/N: This is it. What are your thoughts about this chapter?