BOOK ONE
A MAN OF THE WILD
Chapter Two:
False Ground
Brianna woke the next day draped by a ragged, brown cloak. She shifted slightly, unsure of what to make of this strange object. Cloak? When did people start wearing cloaks on Earth? A familiar rank odor met her nostrils and she grimaced. This wasn't her usual blanket she wrapped herself in nestled in the warm comfort of her own bed. The ground was cold and frost had formed in her hair and the creases of her clothes.
Right, she thought, I'm not on Earth anymore.
She pushed from the ground and glanced around the campsite. Light frost coating her clothes crackled and popped as she moved. She grimaced. Dead leaves and grass clung to the creases in her braided hair. Above was the canopy Strider tied to try and give them shelter from the bit of rain in the night. She smiled while she inspected the clever little leaflets she'd grown and killed silently in the night. They were quickly fading into a soft russet brown and would fall away before Strider could take a really good look at them in the light.
When Brianna looked away from her handiwork her sight caught Strider's severe gaze, she winked at him. It took every part of her to refrain from breaking character. His expression read mistrust and a sense that he had noticed the change in the tree canopy and did not trust the occurrence at all. This didn't just make her a curiosity and potential ally. Now it made her a threat. All because she didn't feel like getting soaked to the bone in cold rain and be unable to dry from it!
She shrugged and looked away to inspect the Hobbits. All four seemed completely oblivious to what Strider had the presence of mind to notice. Sam, for instance, stooped over a little fire making a very light breakfast. Brianna frowned.
"How much of your provisions do you have left?" She asked.
"We have some," Sam replied, "from our previous travels, but Strider made certain we packed more."
Brianna's brow furrowed and her frown deepened if such a thing was possible. Sam glanced away from his food to meet it. He shrugged.
"I'm not one to blame you for a hapless circumstance you seemed to stumble in. If you can help us, then you're my friend and what's mine is yours," he said.
She only nodded in reply because what she wanted to say was too rude. To give up food for a stranger! Of course she heard of people doing that, but certainly she posed a different case? She'd a sense the hobbits were far too trusting for their own good. Even the most mistrustful of the four seemed to accept her presence as fact while throwing suspicious glances at Strider on occasion.
I'd be annoyed if I were Strider, she thought. Though why the hobbits don't seem to trust him much is beyond my comprehension.
"Where are we going?" Pippin asked.
"To Weathertop where we might find Gandalf," Strider explained, "but before that we brave the marshes."
Brianna blinked and blurted out, "Marshes?"
Strider raised a brow. She mimicked him while trying not to turn green. Surely he would know why marshes would be undesirable to elves!
"It will likely be a five day journey if we persevere," he continued.
She grimaced. Bogs, marshes, swamps - all of these messed with her otherwise perfect senses! That was nothing; however, compared to the moving ground below. It would mean tripping over suddenly revealed stringy roots, stepping into pot holes, and slipping on putrid mud. Not to mention the fact that the land around them had a mind of its own. She'd spent a great deal of time in the previous night trying to convince the trees to grow and bend in the direction she wanted them to. An uncooperative land would make a trip through undesirable terrain even more of a chore.
With a very put upon sigh, Brianna accepted the rehydrated venison soup he made and gingerly sipped the broth. For something made from rationed camp supplies it was tasty. The vegetables floated soggily along the surface of the thick brown broth and it seemed as though he had made an effort to insert some seasoning. The venison had been salted before dehydrated - of course - and likely added to that seasoned flavor.
"When we enter the marshes we will not be able to cook with flame. The air is too thick and the wood wet. Bread and cheese will be our main course of food," Strider announced.
Brianna bit her lip firmly to keep the potentially damaging response in her mind from being voiced. She was already in a precarious position where he was concerned. Adding another reason to distrust or even dislike her would certainly make their tense group dynamic worse than it already was. A glance to Strider confirmed some of that sense. He frowned at her as he ate. His eyes showed both mistrust and suspicion. She frowned and looked away to study the antics of Merry and Pippin who were recounting some adventure concerning Sam and some female hobbit at a pub.
Her heart throbbed a heavy, sick pang of longing for days when, once, she had that sort of camaraderie. When was it last she smiled like Frodo did at Sam's embarrassment? When last had she been the cause of such embarrassment for her own particular enjoyment?
I have loved and lost so much because of that bastard I'd forgotten to live, she thought bitterly.
And, worst of all, she missed her friends - the living and the departed.
"Miss Davis, are you alright?"
Brianna started and turned to face Strider. She reached up to her cheek and touched the dry dampness of the few tears she'd shed.
Oh damn! Of all the times to show weakness, it had to be in front of Strider.
*"Fine," she replied curtly, "Just memories."
She slapped a few fluttering strands of hair out of her eyes and continued eating her food. After a few mouthfuls she decided a bit of personal history to give context was in order. She lowered her partially finished bowl to her lap and stared sightlessly at the venison floating at the top.
She kept her voice low so as to not to ruin the merriment of their fellow companions. "My fiancé was killed - murdered - by a raiphahim who…" she searched for the best way to frame it without getting into details she'd rather avoid. "He held a long-standing grudge against my family and sought me - the latest in the line - for many years. I made a name for myself as a huntress - enough of one that I ended up garnering his attention - which resulted in the capture of myself, a close friend, and my fiancé. This… creature took great pains to torture them to death. I won't give details, they're not for anyone's ears let alone a stranger's."
A sharp hiss met her ears while she studied the remnants of her food. Brianna shifted so she could meet his gaze. The shock in his deep blue eyes was apparent and she felt a little sad at being the cause of his distress. Strider wasn't her enemy, nor was he someone to hate. She could have mentioned her trauma in such a way as to soften the harsh reality of it.
"If you speak true, then please accept my apology for reminding you of dark times," he said.
She shook her head, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the switch from suspicion to courtesy, "You have a right to know a little. I did fall on top of you."
His lips twitched and Brianna swore she'd seen the beginnings of a smile creep into his eyes. Strider didn't break; however, and simply bowed his head. She did smile and took a long sip of her broth.
"I didn't deal with their deaths well," she said. "The death of my fiancé…" she halted as she realized Strider likely didn't know what a "fiancé" was and immediately changed her wording, "… that is to say, my betrothed, affected me most. I was forced to watch the terrible things they did to my best friend. I was forced to hear similar inflicted on him. I watched him die after they rescued us. My life was happier before then. Those memories, which aren't sad, still invoke…" she shrugged and stopped talking.
Strider watched her for a while longer, even after she'd returned her attention to finishing her meal, before responding, "My mother went to her rest a few years passed. My childhood was a happy one and I have many fond memories of her. Even so, her loss, as peaceful as it was, still taints the happy times with sorrow."
She studied him while chewing on a particularly tough piece of venison. Strider's blue eyes held the melancholy he spoke of, but there was a sense of gilt in his expression she hadn't expected. Brianna swallowed.
"Thank you, Strider," she said. "That was very kind. I am sorry for your loss."
He inclined his head. The sun illuminated his dirty dark hair and she noticed leaf particulates in his scruffy, full, beard. A wind from the north blew his stench toward her and Brianna wrinkled her nose as it accosted her before she could stop herself. Strider raised an eyebrow.
"What?" She asked, breaking the moment.
Once again, his lips twitched as he asked, "Something displeases you, Miss Davis?"
Brianna glared at him and said, "I think you could divine a reasonable guess."
This exchange attracted the attention of the hobbits.
"What ever is the matter, Miss Brianna?" Pippin asked.
"Yes, do tell us! Has Strider offended you in some way?" Frodo asked.
From the dark-haired hobbit's expression, he, too, guessed the reason for her discomfort. Abruptly, Brianna stood and handed her empty bowl to Sam.
"That's my secret to tell! Don't we have a swamp to find?" She asked and stood.
As she marched over to Sam intending to help with the dishes, Brianna swore she heard Strider mutter the word "marshes" under his breath. It made her smile.
"Son of a fucking bitch!"
Strider halted and released a long-suffering sigh. In a day and a morning the lady managed to fall as much as the hobbits did. Irately, he turned to help her out of the current situation she found herself in. Brianna and the hobbits were proving to be a right quintet of a nuisance as they made their long trek through marshland.
The hobbits were generally uncoordinated. They were small and walked unfamiliar terrain. Brianna Davis, on the other hand, had this tendency to become distracted by the dead things she spied in the water. Instead of running away from them like most sane individuals she scurried toward them and slipped into boggy pools or thick puddles of mud. If arcane bodies were not her aim she lost footing along the slimy ground in what Strider came to believe as the pair of the most unreliable boots he came into contact with. The moment they reached Imladris he was determined to remove her from the temptation of ever donning the pair again!
She looked at him now from where she struggled to leverage herself out of the boggy pool. He held out a hand. Teal eyes narrowed into a scathing glare before she deigned to accept it. Despite his annoyed at her obscene display of poor coordination, Strider found himself momentarily distracted by slip of her breasts revealed by the "v" of her strange tunic. He was surprised by how smooth her hand felt when she grabbed his offered hand. Still, he managed to refocus on the task of pulled her out of the bog and immediately tugged up and forward. It wasn't much of a chore. She was light despite the hard grip she possessed and the sureness of her body as it lithely regained its balance when he set her upright.
"I hate swamps!" She murmured.
He turned away from her and continued onward. After a few minutes of perceived peace one of the hobbits slipped and fell into a pool. This time Brianna managed to retrieve him without too much failure though Strider had to pull both out more for his peace of mind than her needing his help. That particular instance could have been worse, he supposed, but it still left him highly on edge. Clearly the marshes weren't the most ideal of paths, but he hadn't been able to come up with something better that would have taken them away from the road and maintain a relatively quick trek to Lord Elrond's house.
They continued their journey cold and tired and hungry. The hobbits moaned and groaned about needing food and sustenance. Brianna didn't say a word. He'd studied her once during a time of rest where she gazed at the clouds of disgusting bugs floating around seeking the most ideal place to slurp away at their skin.
"What do you call them here?" She asked.
"Call what?" He asked.
She swatted at her arms and pulled a face. Strider allowed a smirk to break his typical stoic demeanor. As was observed by Sam when the minute insects began to infest their bare skin the things seemed to particularly like Brianna.
"These damn little bastards that keep trying to eat me!" She snapped.
He chuckled, "We call them midges. It is where the name Midgewater Marshes came from."
She pulled a face and hissed another foul word that made Strider wince.
"We call them mosquitoes," she said after checking the bare places on her body over again.
Strider wasn't entirely sure how to take this small offering of information. He didn't have much time to digest it because Sam suddenly found himself and their little pony, Bill, knee deep in boggy water. This time it was Brianna who released a long suffering sigh and moved in their direction. He grabbed her arm, stopping her, and shook his head.
"Stay with the other hobbits and don't stray too far," he ordered.
He wondered if she would argue with him, but Brianna remained silent and approached a very much amused Frodo who was covered from head to toe in boggy muck. Strider watched her a moment longer before he moved to help Sam out of his predicament.
"Steady there Samwise Gamgee! Let me find a firm foot to pull you out," he said.
Sam stopped moving and managed to calm Bill from where he was stuck three feet or so away while Strider searched for ground that was the least soft. In this instance, much to his annoyance, there wasn't much he could choose from, so Strider made the best of one place that seemed the lesser of many evils. He reached out with a branch in one hand and the pony's reigns in another. Carefully he began to tug them forward.
The hobbit and the pony slowly began their ascent out of the boggy pool they collectively disturbed. Strider worked the branch stepping and leaning when needed. As Sam and Bill seemed to approach the bank the ground beneath Strider's boot shifted and he halted his progress. Sam and Bill ceased their ascent both frozen in place while Strider allowed the ground to settle. He moved backwards a foot onto surprisingly solid ground. This allowed Sam and Bill to move forward a fraction more.
With each later step Strider found his foot met with a firm patch grass. He didn't complain nor did he turn to look at the one he suspected was responsible for the sudden stable ground. All that mattered was retrieving Sam and Bill from the bog. He allowed Brianna – who somehow managed to find dry kindling and logs in a boggy swamp – to light a fire for Sam to get warm.
"I would chide you for not watching where you were going, Mr Gamgee, but I would be a hypocrite if I did," she chided good teasingly.
Sam laughed, "I wouldn't say that, Miss Brianna. I couldn't see the bog. You keep getting distracted."
"Well, yes, but the preservation of the bodies! I've never seen swamps keep them in such pristine condition on Earth! You must give me a bit of leeway as I pursue a point of study," she replied.
Strider watched her interact with Sam as the two proceeded to concoct a broth based soup for the rest of them. Frodo interjected a few quips in Sam's defense while Merry and Pippin helped toast a few slices of bread. She smiled at whatever it was Frodo said and pulled a few stray strands of bronze hair away from her eyes. The slight moldy wind played a cheerful dance with her braided, clumped, strands. Her cheeks and neck were stained with mud and there were several tears in the fabric of her tunic and trousers. Yet her skin faintly glowed in the waning afternoon light as if she was a faint star in the sky.
She was attractive. She was cheerful. She got on well with the hobbits. She had some sort of command over the earth around her.
She was very dangerous.
When they finally stumbled out of the marshes on the fifth day all of them were in some bedraggled state. High hills rose before them and caused a groan of discontent from the hobbits. Despite that particular pending torment all of them agreed it was a sight better than staying a day longer in the marshlands.
"Where are we?" asked Frodo though his question was more directed at the runes than the hill country.
"The Weather Hills. That is Weathertop, The Old Road. We may reach it tomorrow at noon if we head straight towards it. I supposed we had better do so," explained Strider with a slight frown on his face.
"Why suppose exactly?" Brianna asked while inspecting her nearly ruined boots.
"Simply that when we do get there I am uncertain as to what we may find. It is close to the road," he informed her.
Brianna nodded, "And let me guess, the road is lower than the hills?"
"Far too low. We will be too far out in the open and completely vulnerable," Strider agreed.
"Yet, we don't want to wait at this Weathertop," she clarified.
"Indeed," he replied.
Brianna frowned and crossed her arms. If this Weathertop was close enough to the road then it would be easy to get to. She shook her head.
"If your aim is to avoid being seen this is far too risky," she stated.
Strider inclined his head, "I know. My reservations are similarly inclined."
Brianna stared at him unsure of exactly what to make of this new develop in their tense relationship. To hear this man openly agree with her seemed incredibly absurd, yet there it was. The hobbits were open books. She knew where most of them stood and even Sam, the least trusting, didn't seem too threatened by her. In fact there were moments where he seemed incredibly awed by her presence, but Frodo had told her shortly after meeting that Sam had always wanted to see and speak with an elf. She was the first one who spoke the common tongue in complete, easy to understand sentences. Which was saying much since she came from a world that managed to put a few men on the moon thus sparking a fervent science fiction space odyssey trend in literature.
And she had yet to even talk about that.
"But surely we were hoping to find Gandalf there?" asked Frodo from his place beside Brianna.
"Who is this Gandalf I've heard so much about?" She asked.
"He's a wizard," Sam replied with a shudder.
"He's part human?" She asked.
Wizards on Earth were children of elves and humans. Sometimes the magic skipped generations as the elven blood was overtaken by a thickening human bloodline, but they existed and influenced the world of men in their own way be it nefarious or otherwise. With wizards it was far more difficult to decipher which side they were on.
"Are wizards part human in your world?" Strider asked.
"Yes."
"Gandalf is far from human and he is certainly not an elf. His power is strange and greater than the most powerful elf who walks Arda," Strider replied.
Brianna cocked her head to one side and considered his words before asking, "Who is the most powerful elf in Arda?"
"That answer," Strider replied, "will depend on who you ask."
She nodded, "A reasonable answer."
"Gandalf has been a wise counselor to us all for many centuries. He was a mentor to me for many years and became a friend I've come to trust above most others. None have surpassed his wisdom to my knowledge," Strider said sagely.
A far, distant expression etched itself across his features. Brianna studied him fascinated by the way this wizard seemed to be remembered both fondly and reverently. That fondness added a softness to his otherwise rough and rugged features unfamiliar to her. It mellowed him. Part of her, the part always wanting to remain obstinate, didn't want to humanize him. That bit of herself wanted to keep him as an adversary and paint him as a continued force to be reckoned with. The other, saner, part of her saw his humanity break through the mask of harshness and mistrust. For that moment Brianna saw him as a man and the image didn't leave her even when he remembered himself and returned to his usual gruff persona.
"To answer your question, Frodo, the hope is faint. If he comes this way at all he may not pass through Bree, and he may not know what we are doing. unless by luck we arrive almost together, we shall miss one another; it will not be safe for him or for us to wait there long. If the Riders fail to find us in the wilderness, they are likely to make for Weathertop themselves. It commands a wide view all round. Indeed, there are many birds and beasts in this country that could see us, as we stand here, from that hill-top. Not all the birds are to be trusted, and there are other spies more evil than they are," Strider explained.
Brianna knew she looked just as white as Frodo did at the mention of untrustworthy animals. What kind of place was this? Birds couldn't be trusted? She met the smaller man's gaze and made herself smile.
"Well, we should at least test the waters. It may be your wizard friend somehow managed to catch up with us, though I hope to the Triune he didn't brave the swamp," she said cheerfully.
Strider merely shook his head and stepped into the hills beyond. Brianna followed behind the hobbits while periodically glancing at the sky. She could try to shield them, but with the land so wide and open it wouldn't be done without considerable effort.
Or at least without special powers. They would know what I am by then. It'll be impossible to hide it if I do that, she thought.
They proceeded in silence. The air felt calm – normal – and not much different from typical hills that stretched for miles before ascending into high towering monoliths. Strider explained to her about the geography and how, if they continued straight into the east, their company would find themselves climbing the Misty Mountains. Despite this small talk Brianna felt uneasy though she couldn't decide if it was because they were being followed or watched.
Probably both, she decided after they stopped for camp.
As the hobbits curled around the middle of the group to better keep warm. Brianna sat with Strider while they watched the night unable to sleep. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. The breeze cheerfully danced around her face and she sent out feelers into its domain.
Where are the enemies? Show me where they lurk. I know they're here. Follow them and report to me. Warn me when they venture too close. Search, she willed.
That was all control over the elements were in the end. One's ability to will each atom of air, each molecule of water, mineral of earth and particle of fire all depended on the person's strength of will. Brianna could boast of having a will of iron.
Almost.
"What sorcery do you participate in?"
She opened her eyes, "What?"
Brianna looked at Strider who gazed ominously at her from under his hood. In the night, even with her enhanced elven vision, he was certainly a horrifying sight to behold. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. Strider didn't even flinch.
"I don't practice sorcery, nor do I associate with anyone who does. I kill sorcerers," she said for emphasis.
Strider frowned and loomed over her like an imposing shadow. If she didn't know any better - Brianna was quite certain she had a good judge of his character in this instance - she would have assumed he was the practitioner of sorcery. After all, a human man who looked so foul and smelled so ripe shouldn't cause her blood to rush and her cheeks to flush, not from anger, but pleasure. Yet, here she was, glaring at him from her much shorter height, enjoying the intense expression in his blue eyes and the rush she felt from his challenge.
"So you say, yet I can sense the change in the wind. It answers to you like it does no elf. Only sorcery can explain such. The earth, when I struggled retrieving Sam from the bog, became sturdy. There is no power like it in Arda possessed by the elves," he said.
Brianna raised her chin haughtily and replied, "Then you should be glad I am not from Arda, Ranger."
He grabbed her arm and leaned over her. Brianna forced herself to remain steadfast as his breath tickled the tip of her nose and lips. To her astonishment his breath smelled better than the rest of him, but she quashed the thought before it took a mind of its own.
"You will remember that you live so long as I deem you harmless to my charges, huntress," his voice was as soft as the barest rustle of leaves in the wind.
Silence descended between them like the blade of a guillotine. The progress Brianna hoped she had made with the man seemed to have been severed from its makeshift body. Neither moved, or spoke, or allowed a single thought to break their gaze.
"I will remind you once, human," she said softly, dangerously, "I do not harm what is not evil. I hunt the monsters of the night. I am the fire that rages against the darkness, the ice to dark flame, the tremor of the earth that will bring down their fortresses. I am the wind and the rain and the fire above. My blade is the bane of the undead and the dark living. I have brought down dynasties with my rage. You are being followed by people who wish you harm. I do not believe a single one of you have an evil bone in his body. You will never have a thing to fear from me, but they will."
Strider didn't seem moved; however, he was the first to glance away. When he released her arm Brianna turned away as well and looked out into the night. Not a shadow stirred in the west. She wasn't surprised. It was far more likely their enemies rode ahead and not followed them from behind.
"If you are what you say, can you not understand my reasons for distrust?" He asked after a while.
Brianna didn't reply for a while. She watched the clouds above and observed the breaks that revealed silver stars glittering across the the black canopy of space. Foreign stars, strange lands, and strange darkness. She shifted her attention to the ground and allowed a frown to grace her lips.
"Of course. Doesn't mean I won't try to make you believe me," she said.
They didn't speak again for the rest of the night. Wordlessly, they consented to take watch together and observed the hobbits as they murmured amongst themselves and readied their bedrolls. All of them stank of the marshes and sported bug bites on their faces and hands. Merry and Pippin held out their hands and poked at each other's faces as they compared bump sizes. She smiled at the sight. That smile remained as, one by one, the hobbits drifted off to sleep.
Brianna remained awake long after Strider fell into an uneasy slumber. She watched him and noted the tilt of his head and the way his body leaned against the same rock she sat against. Bitterly she smiled and shook her head as dawn crept over the horizon where the Midgewater Marshes were still visible.
Don't trust me my ass, she thought.
At mid morning she woke them. Strider started from whatever sleep he'd descended in, looked at her with startled blue eyes. Brianna thought about needling him, but thought better of it when he simply nodded to her and moved to help wake the hobbits.
Brianna smiled.
*FOOTNOTES*
*This marks the beginning of a change I've made to one of my more severe errors in writing the earlier parts of these chapters. I'd gone and revealed the age Brianna was when she first saw battle in this chapter and then later in chapter 4. To everyone who noticed and left a review telling me about it, thank you. Be rest assured, I did notice it after I'd posted chapter 10, but couldn't divine a way to change it. I transformed this conversation into a private moment between Brianna and Strider in an effort to grow their character and make a few changes to her original character introduction readers first see. In my opinion, this is much better than what I'd originally wrote and it allows both Strider and Brianna to view each other in a different light. It also allows the title "False Ground" to have more meaning.