A/N: Whoo, it's been a long time, hasn't it? Sorry about that. This chapter was absolute HELL to get out. I don't think it's one of my better ones, but hopefully you'll still enjoy it. Later ones should be better (I hope).

In other news, Suedom has been kicked off FF.net, and is now being hosted by the Almighty and Most Gracious Camilla Sandman. It can be found here: http://www.misssandman.com/Suedom/index.html

Onto the chapter.

Chapter 15

In which Tina does not Quite Go to Rohan, but Starts the Process of Getting There.

It should be mentioned that about this time Tina remembered that a few chapters back, she had pushed Gandalf off a bridge and into an infinite chasm of certain peril. Her enthusiasm at his return dimmed somewhat. Would he remember? Would he be angry? Well that was a stupid question; of COURSE he would be angry. If he remembered. Which, hopefully, he wouldn't.

'Maybe I can just hide here, and he won't notice me.' Tina thought, conveniently ignoring the little voice in the back of her head reminding her that eventually she'd have to re-join the group if she wanted to survive more than five minutes.

"But where is Mary Sue?" Gandalf suddenly said, quite loudly, and Tina's heart skipped a beat. "I require to speak with her."

'You require a grammar instructor,' Tina thought, peeking fearfully out from behind the tree. Gandalf the White, in all his shiny glory, gazed at her evenly through unfathomable gray eyes and Tina shrank before the majesty of the servant of Manwe.

"Mary Sue." He said quietly, clearly Meaning Business.

"Meep," Tina replied.

"Thank the Valar you were not swept away by the Balrog, as was I!"

Tina had an allergy attack at that very moment, which was lucky, as it prevented her from saying exactly what was running through her mind at the moment (it had something to do with the Author and the conditions of their conception).

"Clearly, the air of Fangorn does not agree with our fair lady." Gandalf said, laughing gently.

"Doesn't agree wif." Tina grumbled. "Doesn't agree wif, I'll give hib subthig to not agree wif . . ."

"We must depart from here," Gandalf continued. "War is brewing in Rohan. We must ride to Edoras."

Tina counted on her fingers for a moment before following the wizard to the borders of the forest. "'Ey, Gandaf,"

"Yes?" Gandalf asked.

"'ow cobe you speak in five-word sentences so mudch?"

Gandalf stared at her for a moment, opened his mouth to say something, appeared to loose steam, and began walking again. Tina shrugged. It had been worth a try.

Outside Fangorn, Gandalf gave a piercing whistle that spread far over the Rohirric plains and made Tina cover her ears in pain. A moment later, a horse came trotting over the hill.

It was a truly magnificent beast. Its coat was such a bright white that it rivaled even Bob in terms of color. Tina didn't have to know much about horses to tell that this was an amazingly powerful animal. Muscles rippled beneath its flanks, and its eyes glittered with a distinctly un-horsey sort of intelligence. Tina stared slack-jawed at the beautiful creature as a smiling Gandalf walked towards it and gently patted it's muzzle. Faced with such a creature, there was only one thing Tina could possibly say . . .

"What the Hell?! Shadowfax is supposed to be gray!"

Shadowfax glanced around Gandalf at Tina, and she got her first glimpse of what a Meara* actually looks like when it's glaring. She stuck her tongue out in response, and added "Well, you ARE!" under her breath.

--

A/N: It's a filler, and it sucks. Sue me. The next one'll be better.

I'll try to get future chapters out in a timely manner. I'm keeping them short on purpose. Chapter 16 should be ready quite soon. No, really!

And I know footnotes suck(1), but

*I'm not sure if Meara is the proper singular of Mearas, although I'm under the impression that it is. If it's not, feel free to correct me. In fact, I order you to do so. I want constructive criticism, dammit! I'm trying to get better here!

(1) Unless you're Terry Pratchett(2), in which case your footnotes add to the quality of your work.

(2) Who I am obviously not.