Disclaimer: Not mine. Except for Tina. And Bob.

Chapter 13

A Unicorn Named Bob
"A unicorn!" Legolas whispered reverently, gazing at the shining white beast. "Long have I desired to see one. There are none in Rivendell, my home."

"You don't live in Rivendell!" Tina wailed, at the end of her figurative rope. "And for the last time, I can't ride that . . . that . . . horsey-thing!" Tina blinked, and wondered what in Middle-earth had caused her to call the unicorn a "horsey-thing".

Éomer blinked ponderously. "But this is Silverhooves, your faithful steed! You have always ridden her."

"HELLO!" Tina shouted, and the dazed Rohirrim jumped. "MY ANKLE IS SPRAINED! I can't ride anything at all!"

"Are you . . . feeling all right, Mary-Sue?" Éomer asked.

"NO! MY ANKLE IS SPRAINED!"

"Silverhooves will fix that." Éomer said calmly, and the unicorn started to move towards Tina.

"What, does the thing carry a first aid-" Tina cut herself off as Silverhooves began to lower her golden horn to Tina's ankle. "Oh. Right."

The unicorn placed the tip of her horn on Tina's swollen ankle. There was a brief moment of pain as the horn pierced through the tender flesh, but a sudden wave of a blessed tingling feeling that could only be described as "healing" spread throughout Tina's foot and up to her mid-calf. It felt nice, and had such a lovely calming effect upon Tina's poor harassed psyche. Suddenly, she didn't feel quite so tired anymore. In fact . . . she felt pretty darn good.

"Maybe unicorns aren't so bad . . ." Tina murmured, standing slowly up and looking sympathetically into Silverhooves' glassy eyes. Éomer beamed and turned back to the Hunters. They began to talk in a semi-canonical way, and Tina patted Silverhooves on the muzzle.

"If I get out of this alive," she muttered. "I'll have to do something about you."

Silverhooves merely snuffled in reply and looked at her dully. Tina wrinkled her nose.

"In the meantime, you need a new name. There's no way in Middle-earth I'm calling you Silverhooves." Tina pursed her full lips in thought. Names really were sacred things, in her opinion. You couldn't just GIVE someone (or something) a random name. It had to be a name that suited them perfectly, a name that would help to identify them as the individual they were, a name that fit that person utterly . . .

"How about Bob?"

The unicorn made no reply, so Tina shrugged. Bob it was.

"Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands." Éomer said. "Farewell, Mary Sue. I shall see you at my father's hall."

"No you won't!" Tina yelled as the Rohirrim departed.

---

Tina had never ridden a horse in her life, unless you counted riding carnival ponies that went in a circle when she was six. Somehow, she didn't think carnival ponies compared well against a unicorn.

Mounting took some effort, as Bob had neither reins nor a saddle. Eventually Tina was able to pull the unicorn over to a rock which allowed her a suitable step to climb aboard Bob's back. She wasn't entirely sure how she was going to manage to stay on once they were on the move. Bareback riding may have been easy for real elves, but Tina was no real elf. And the carnival ponies had had saddles.

Riding Bob, however, turned out to be much easier than Tina expected.

After her initial moment of terror at finding herself moving, Tina was amazed at the fluidity of Bob's strides. The unicorn almost seemed to float across the rough ground, and if any rock jarred her, it certainly didn't reach her rider. Tina was enthralled by the absolute grace of the beautiful creature. Slowly she relaxed her legs from their tight pressure against the unicorn's belly and loosened her hands from Bob's mane. She could remember now why she had always wanted a pony so badly when she was younger, and it brought back a rush of memories that left her positively soggy with nostalgia. She and her sister had both gone through a unicorn craze together when Tina was nine. What either of those bright-eyed youngsters would have given to partake of this enchanted ride . . .

Tina's breath quickened as she felt the simple joy of the smooth run of the unicorn. For a blessed moment, she could forget that she was constantly being lusted after, that she was on her way to a large pile of burned Orc corpses, even that she was trapped in a massacred version of Middle-earth in the joy that came from riding Bob. If she DID get out of this, she'd owe the unicorn big time for this ride alone.

Unfortunately, the ride was infinitely short. It took perhaps fifteen minutes to reach the pyre, and Tina felt quite cheated. Nevertheless she dismounted as the Hunters stopped (it would not do to tire Bob out by remaining on her back all the time), covered her ears as Aragorn screamed, and began to amuse herself by spitting on the steaming corpses and watching her saliva evaporate. It was quite easy to forget that these had once been living breathing orcs due to the gratuitous smell of burning rubber emanating from the pyre. And perhaps that look of disgust on Legolas' pretty face was not entirely from the smell . . .

-Sudenly Aragorn looked up wonderingly . . .-

Tina looked up too, but only because Aragorn was nicer to look at than dead orcs.

"I know what happened to them . . ." he said, and started walking. "A hobbit lay there," he pointed at a spot on the ground. "He cut his bonds . . . and ran into the forest." He made no moves to closely check the ground. Tina glared. What did the Author think? That Aragorn was psychic or something?

"Fangorn! What madness drove they there?" Gimli wondered.

"Bad grammar?" Tina suggested.

"We must follow them. Come!" Aragorn cried, dashing towards Fangorn.

"Uh . . . shouldn't you tie up the horses?" Tina called. Aragorn stopped and looked blankly at the mounts.

"Yes . . . yes, we should tie them. Gimli, tie the horses." he said slowly. Tina rolled her eyes.

"Stupid Author," she muttered as she tied Bob securely to a tree (even with a unicorn you couldn't be too careful) and followed the Three Hunters into the dark, forbidding place that was Fangorn Forest.