A/N: Yeah! Just over a week, guys! :D So proud of myself. We'll see if we can start getting the updates to a weekly basis.

Review replies!

MEIPHANTOMHIVE: Hey, don't worry about not reviewing! Reviews are lovely but I can't force you to review. :3 And yeah, Damiaiden is my OTP. XD

WarBoarofErebor: Maybe… I couldn't say… :B

breeeeeeeeeeenna: Yeah lol, I had writers block and was like, 'you know what imma put in that conversation', and it ended up curing my writer's block, so… XD (You know, I kind of wondered what it would be like if I like, made all of Olivia's dialogue have the triple l's… XD)

Melissa: Oh okay I get it now. XD

Anyways, now for the chapter! :3

[5th March, T.A. 3019]

Ginny's eyes fluttered open as consciousness dragged her from thick, dark sleep. Shifting slightly, she looked up at the sky, which was already bright with white morning light. For a few moments she lay there, pulling her blanket tighter around herself, revelling in the last few seconds of peace and content. Then, finally, she pulled it off, sighing as she sat up.

Surprising, no one was awake yet, save for Belegil, whose bed was empty and was nowhere to be seen, and Tran, who sat by the dead fire, poking the ash with a stick. He looked up at her and smiled. "Hey."

Stretching, Ginny stumbled to her feet and wearily made her way towards him. "Hey…" she mumbled.

As she sat down on the other side of the stone ring, she immediately noticed Tran had been drawing something in the ash. "What are you drawing?"

But he had already scribbled it out, flicking the ash and dirt over it. "Nothing,"

Ginny stared at the spot for a moment, mind ticking over and over. Finally, she simply yawned and decided not to press the matter. "So, how did you sleep?"

"Okay…" Tran said slowly, looking up at the lightening sky, "I slept okay…"

"Hm," Ginny mused, poking the dark powder with her forefinger and observing the layer of soot that evenly covered it. "Me too."

There was silence for a little while; not an uncomfortable silence—an even, kind of contemplative silence. The sort of silence that harboured new thoughts and old ideas, the sort of silence that teased notions of what could have been. The silence stretched on for minutes, and in that time, their eyes slowly and quietly crept up to lock together.

"How far do you think we'll get today?" Ginny finally broke the quiet, not letting her gaze slip from his.

Tran, however, glanced away momentarily; again up at the sky, which was lighter still. "Not as far as we got yesterday, seeing as those guys won't get their lazy butts up."

Ginny's face broke out into a grin as she glanced around at the sleeping figures. "Yeah. Where's Belegil?"

"Dunno," Tran shrugged, "Doing some elf thing, or something. I dunno."

"Do you think we should wake them up?" Ginny looked at him sideways.

Tran opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it, and finally spoke, "Um… that look on your face…!"

"Damn right that look on my face," Ginny grinned wickedly, "Come on; we're doing this thing."

"Doing what thing, may I query?"

The pair whirled around to face where Alatar stood, newly woken from sleep in all his blue-robed-white-bearded glory. He held his staff in one hand and used the other to shield his eyes from the sun, and it was difficult to tell whether or not the twitching of his moustache was disdain or mirth.

"You know what," Ginny announced after a pause, "You wizards are all different. Gandalf's always disappearing and turning up just in time to save the day. And you—you, you're… just sort of… always there!"

"We were just going to wake everyone up," Tran hastily answered the wizard's question.

"Ah, yes," Alatar nodded, "Well, I may assist with that."

Tran and Ginny glanced at each other, and looked back at Alatar just in time to see him turn and bellow, "Wake, up, travellers! Time to get moving!"

And with the blue wizard's cry, a new day was born.

…..

The breeze was steadily growing stronger as the travellers moved across the plains of Eastemnet. All that could be seen for miles were grasslands as they walked, some talking quietly amongst themselves; but mostly they were silent. There was a strange foreboding in the gathering of the wind, something no one could quite place, and that no one wished to mention.

Tran walked alone for a while, eyes trained to his slightly worn boots, sword bouncing rhythmically at his side. There was a certain comfort in it being there—and as he pondered he realized this was not just due to the precautions it brought in terms of safety, but because it reminded him of home.

Well, what he could call a home in this place. He still had a sort of complex over where he identified as 'home'. Never would he have imagined when he was back on Earth that having a place you could call your dwelling would be such an issue; but now he realized how important it was.

Now that he wasn't sure he had one.

They had always taught you that home was where the heart was, home was where the people you cared about were. And Tran supposed that was still true, to some extent. But hell, he'd much rather have his home be a nice house with all his friends, rather than out alone on the road, even if still with his friends. There had to be some sort of compromise—it wasn't as simple as they'd always said.

Home had to be a place you felt safe, a place you felt comfortable in, a place you enjoyed being in. Home had to be, yes, where there were people you cared out, or people who cared about you. Home had to be the sort of place you would willingly go when there was nowhere else to go.

But Tran didn't know there was a place for him that ticked all those boxes. He would have said his parent's old house, the last place he was in before he was zapped into the timeframe of Arda. Or even just Earth, at the least. But he was beginning to become less and less sure that he would ever get back there. There were still times, as he had discussed with Lola, that he wondered whether or not it actually existed.

The only other place, really, that came close to a home was Rivendell. Tran had spent a good portion of his life in the Last Homely House—five years—and it had become a dear place to him. And although he had initially found it intimidating, he had become comfortable, and many people whom he cared about and who cared about him dwelt there (although many were passing over the sea).

And so as he walked, and his sheathed sword swung at his side, Tran began to come to some sort of conclusion. If he could never make it back to Earth, Rivendell could be his home. He would return to it when there was no other place left to go. He would—

"Greetings, Tran,"

As if on cue, Belegil's even voice met Tran's ears, and the elf joined in at his stride. The man glanced up at him and smiled, adjusting his glasses. "Oh, hello."

"Your expression was somewhat introspective," Belegil noted, "You seemed to be deep in thought. Was it anything you would care to discuss, if I were to lend an ear?"

"Oh… no," Tran shifted his pack on his shoulders, "I was just thinking… it wasn't important."

Belegil nodded, "I see."

"Where were you this morning?" Tran asked, frowning at the elf.

"Oh," Belegil looked at the sky, "I just required some time to think, is all."

"Oh…" Tran trailed off, also looking at the sky. "Um… are we looking at something?"

"Not really," Belegil blinked, looking back at Tran, "But I do believe it is going to rain."

"Really?" Tran frowned.

"Yes, I fear," the elf gestured behind them, "There are dark clouds gathering, blown by a wind from the west, and slightly south. The air is becoming heavy."

Tran said nothing for a moment, staring at where Belegil had pointed. There did seem to be some ashen clouds moving towards them from the direction he had specified. But was it just Tran, or was there something interesting about said direction…?

"Did you say it was gonna rain?" Lola suddenly appeared beside them.

Tran jumped, just a little. "Um, yeah, Belegil said it was going to rain, coz like, there's clouds coming from south-west."

"Indeed," Belegil nodded, "I fear rain will soon be upon us."

Lola wrinkled her nose, "Hold up, south-west… isn't that the direction of Helm's Deep?"

"…yeah…" Tran nodded slowly, staring at an invisible map suspended in space.

"The valley where dwells the Hornburg?" Belegil said, "Yes, I do believe it is in that general direction."

"The battle," Lola said thoughtfully, "It was raining in the battle—in the movie, at least. I can't remember whether or not also in the book, though."

"Well if it was, that's where the rain is coming from," Tran shrugged, hitching his pack higher on his shoulders.

Lola sighed, "Whelp, won't that be fun."

"Yep, fun, and cold, and wet," Tran snorted. "We'll have a great time."

Belegil looked at them strangely. "Surely you jest?"

"Jest we do," Lola laughed a little.

But as Tran glanced once again at the sky, it was evident that the clouds did not.

…..

[3rd March, T.A. 3019]

"There…" Phillip's voice shuddered with the shivers that took his body in great convulsions, his soaked jacket slung over his shoulders not helping at all to keep in whatever warmth there was left. "I recognize that sign…"

Beside him, Olivia too was shaking. "W-where?"

Phillip pointed to a wet wooden sign that swung at the front of a nondescript building. The dusty windows glowed with the presence of candles. The sign itself depicted a rearing horse, and underneath, the words 'The Prancing Pony'.

"The Prancing Pony," Olivia read aloud.

"Yeah…" Phillip said, "That was an inn, in The Fellowship of the Ring… they were in Bree…"

He trailed off and there was silence for a few moments. Olivia broke the pause. "So… is that where we are?"

"Bree?" Phillip breathed, "Yeah… yeah it is…"

There was more silence, and still without saying a word, they both made a beeline for the building. As Phillip put a hand on the handle, he turned to the woman in the hoodie beside him, "Do we have a plan?"

"Yes, it's called 'let's not die of hypothermia'." Olivia pushed past him, opening the door.

They were both immediately hit by the warmth as they stumbled inside, revelling in the suddenly lack of cold and wet. The entire place had a sort of golden glow, and a thick smell of oak, sawdust and alcohol. As they began to move forwards, staring in awe at the interior of the building, a squat man wearing a white apron came into view, bustling about at a bench. He looked up as they approached, smiling and opening his mouth to greet them.

But when the words came out, Phillip was surprised to discover they were not coherent to him at all—the man was speaking a different language. He turned to Olivia in surprise, only to find she was smiling back at the man. When she spoke, she was using the same language.

Phillip could not do anything but stare, completely confused. "Olivia," he said, interrupting the little conversation going on between she and who appeared to be the owner of the inn.

Both of their heads snapped towards him. "What?" she asked.

"What language are you speaking?" he frowned.

"…English…" Olivia looked at him funny, "I can only speak English…"

"But…" Phillip trailed off, unable to comprehend. What was going on? "You… you and him… I can't understand you. I'm literally not understanding a word of your conversation. You're both speaking a different language."

"No…" Olivia looked extremely confused, "No… we're not. Are we?"

"Yeah," Phillip swallowed, glancing at the man and back at Olivia. Then once more at the man, who frowned, gesturing towards Phillip and speaking to Olivia again in the foreign language. Olivia replied, suddenly slightly paler, and turned to Phillip.

"He can't understand you either…" she said.

"Ask him what language he's speaking," Phillip demanded.

Olivia nodded, turning towards the man and voicing Phillip's question in the language. He replied, and Olivia turned towards Phillip once more.

"Westron," she said, "Apparently. To me, it just sounds like English. He says it's the most common tongue in these parts… Phillip? Phillip, are you okay…?"

…..

[5th March, T.A. 3019]

The clouds did not jest. The wind was forceful and jagged, the rain thick and wet. In the whirling deluge eight figures stumbled across the plains, acres upon acres of sodden grass, nearing saturated exhaustion.

"Can we stop now?" The young man with the curly hair plastered to his head yelled above the howling wind.

The figure at the front of the group, an old man in drenched blue robes, turned to face him, "Soon, Aiden; soon. We have yet to complete our day's travelling."

"For god's sake—this is stupid!" Aiden screamed at him, and the wind screamed along, "We're stopping now!"

"Aiden—" The man with the long hair tied back in a sopping ponytail put his hand on Aiden's shoulder, but Aiden shrugged it off, turning on the other angrily.

"I'm not going any further," he spat.

"It's not that bad…" Damien tried.

"What? We can barely even see where we're going! This is so ridiculous," Aiden said, the vehemence evident in his voice, "How about we just stop now and continue tomorrow when there's a little less storm around?"

"Come on," Ginny coaxed, appearing at their side, "Just a little further."

Aiden scowled at her through the screen of whirling rain coming down around them. She spoke once more, "Tran says there's a small cluster of trees coming up on the map, I think that's where Alatar is having us get to. For shelter during the night."

Aiden still scowled, wiping water from his furrowed brow. Julia appeared at his side, putting her hand and his shoulder gently. "Come on," she smiled, "It's not that far."

There was a pause before Aiden finally began walking again. "This is stupid," he muttered.

…..

The women hadn't lied. It was not long till the group reached the safe haven that was the small cluster of trees not far from the Anduin river, which was not quite visible through the storm and the darkness of nightfall.

Struggling to find a dry patch on which to dump their packs, Belegil eventually suggested he climb a tree and hang them from the branches to keep them from the mud and wet of the ground. This idea was abandoned, however, at the remote risk of having to get away in a hurry and being unable to locate the packs in time. Ultimately, it was decided to let them brave the mud, and they were dumped under a nearby tree.

"How are we going to make a fire?" Lola asked, as the group congealed, all shivering except Belegil, in a relatively sheltered part of the cluster.

Aiden let out a string of interesting expletives, turning away from the group, and Damien put a hand on his shoulder as an attempt to comfort him.

"Do not fear," Alatar said, reaching into his robe, "I happen to have a few tricks,"

The others watched with interest as Alatar produced a small brown leather pouch, and tipped out eight small crystal shrapnel, which glimmered blue, shifting from artic to Aegean in the darkness.

"What are they…?" Ginny asked, mystified.

The blue wizard ignored her as he held them cupped in his hand, close to his mouth. He whispered something intelligible, which could have in fact been some kind of incantation, for when he threw the crystal shrapnel on the ground with a cry, glittering blue flame sprung up. It stretched towards the stormy sky, illuminating the perplexed and amazed faces of the seven other members of the group.

"It… it's not going out," Damien frowned, "How did you do that?"

Alatar's moustache twitched, "My good friend, Pallando, and I are very accustomed in the ways and teachings of magic, son of Lorien."

Lola frowned, suddenly remembering something about the blue wizards. "Didn't… didn't you guys… set up…"

"Magical clans," Alatar confirmed, "In the East. Cults, if you like. Pallando still dwells there."

"Oh?" Ginny frowned.

"I left long ago," Alatar stared into the blue flame, "There is an evil in the hearts of men who practice the in ways of magicians. Oftentimes it can remain passive, but there are some who let this evil consume them… dark magic, children."

He looked around at them, "Dark magic."

There was silence for a few moments, as they stared at the shimmering fire. Nobody could quite find it in themselves to break the quiet.

Finally, Alatar looked up. "Well, now that we have this fire, would anyone care for some tea?"

…..

A/N: Whelp, hope you liked it! Most of it wasn't too difficult to write. Maybe I'm getting my muse back…

Review and tell me which character you'd like to hear more about next chapter (out of Aiden, Alatar, Belegil, Damien, Ginny, Julia, Lola, or Tran). So much free will… gods I feel like Andrew Hussie. :P If no one mentions anyone, I'll just decide myself. No biggie. Just thought ya'll might want some choice in the matter. :B

Let me know what you thought of the chapter. Have a nice day! :D