Revised 2/21/04

See Part 1 for disclaimers and such.

Chapter 2

Oh my god, I'm dying, Erin thought, pressing a hand to her side as she ran. She had developed a stitch there and it burned painfully, as did her lungs, and legs, and, well, her whole body.  Although she was fairly fit, playing the occasional game of tennis and swimming on a somewhat regular basis, her body was not used to running - especially at the pace that Gimli had set.  She had started out in front of him and had quickly fallen behind the dwarf, for all that his legs were much shorter than hers.

"Keep up, lassie," Gimli called behind him. "Legolas and Aragorn have stopped just over the ridge there." He pointed to a tall point of grassy hill that Erin could barely see in the distance.

"You make it sound so close," Erin panted, her pack jarring her shoulders painfully with each stride she took.  To make matters worse, she'd forgotten to put her bra back on, and so the pack was not the only thing bouncing painfully.

"Save your breath, lassie," Gimli admonished, his own breath puffing with his exertions. "We shall be there soon enough."

Easy for you to say, Erin thought crossly. I don't know how much longer I can do this.  She increased her pace slightly to catch up with Gimli's bulkier form, and managed to stay there for a short while.  However, by the time they reached the ridge where Aragorn and Legolas waited, Erin felt her legs were nothing but Jell-O.  She dropped where she stood, bent over, gasping for air, not caring how undignified she must look. Her heavy pack slid from her shoulders onto the ground behind her and she was grateful to be relieved of its weight.  The stitch in her side was a fire that pained her with every breath she took, and her feet felt like they were burning inside her boots.

"Are you well?" a soft voice asked from beside her, and Erin looked up, seeing Legolas looking at her concernedly.

"Not at all," she replied between pants, wiping away the sweat that threatened to drip into her eyes. "I can't do this any more."  She shook her head, sitting back with a groan as her tortured legs complained some more. "I'm through. Leave me here guys. I'll take my chances with the Orcs."  She grinned briefly and in a humorless fashion. "At least they won't make me run."

Aragorn frowned, although his eyes glinted briefly in humor at her comment. "We will rest here until you catch your strength."

"No, go on," Erin insisted. "You need to catch those guys and rescue your friends." Her breathing had finally slowed to something more normal, although her heart was still pounding in her chest. "I'm just holding you back."

Aragorn stalked over to where she sat, squatting down in front of her so he could look at her. "I will not leave a woman alone on the plains undefended," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "I will hear no more from you about it."

Irritation at his high-handed tone shot through her, although part of her knew he was making sense. "You're not my keeper, Aragorn," she snapped crossly. "I don't answer to you."

She heard Legolas soft intake of breath at her words but ignored him. "I'm not going another step until I'm damned good and ready," she said stubbornly.  She failed to see the dangerous glint in Aragorn's eyes when she finished. "You can't make me."

Gimli snorted and moved away, shaking his head.  He wanted no part of what he knew was to come. 

Swifter than she could ever have imagined, Aragorn scooped her off the ground and flung her unceremoniously over his shoulder, her legs clasped firmly across his chest as he balanced her weight, leaving her dangling down his back.  Furious at the sudden and very undignified position she found herself in, Erin flailed at his back with her fists.

"Put me down, you big bully!" she yelled, squirming in his tight grasp.  Gimli's chuckle made her flush in embarrassment, and she doubled her efforts.

Aragorn was not amused, and didn't appreciate the blows she was raining down on his neck and shoulders. He retaliated in the only fashion he could think of, bringing his hand down smartly on her upturned bottom.

"Ow!" Erin cried, feeling her bottom sting painfully. "Stop that!"  Tears sprang to her eyes as he smacked her bottom again, several stinging blows in rapid succession.

"Behave yourself, Lady," Aragorn grated through clenched teeth. "I will desist if you will."  He felt her flailing cease abruptly, and he heard her struggle not to cry.  He glanced over at Legolas, but his friend's expression was carefully neutral, although there was a curious light to his eyes, as if the elf was finding the situation somewhat humorous.  Gimli was openly amused. 

"Will you please put me down?" came the muffled plea against his back.

"No," Aragorn replied shortly, adjusting his burden once more, clasping her legs against his chest. "I will carry you until I tire, then Legolas, and if needs be, Gimli."

Erin's face flushed with embarrassment, thinking of being carried like a sack of unruly potatoes over the shoulder of the handsome elf.  She'd die first.

Aragorn didn't wait for her reply, but instead gestured for Gimli to retrieve her pack. Following Legolas, the three of them set out once more.

The sun had risen high into the sky, and Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli had alternately carried Erin throughout their journey. They paused only long enough to exchange her, taking off once again at the ground eating pace, desperation lending them their strength.  She'd been swapped around enough times that her stomach hurt from being bounced against various shoulders, and her head hurt from being hung upside down.  Legolas carried her now, and she had to admit the jarring was a lot less when he held her, compared to Aragorn or Gimli, the latter whom was barely tall enough to do so.  She was humiliated by the whole process, especially when Legolas had taken her for his first turn, tossing her as gently as he could over his shoulder.  She'd felt a brief pat to her backside as he settled her legs against his chest, and then he was running, the ground passing beneath her in a blur.

She felt Legolas come to a halt, one hand releasing her legs to shade his eyes as he peered into the distance.  She squirmed, wanting to be let down, but his arm tightened slightly, holding her still.

"What do your elves eyes see, mellon?" Aragorn asked, pulling up beside them. 

"Dust from riders," Legolas replied, his eyes narrowed as he tried to make out the details of what he was seeing. "At least fifty riders approach this direction."

"Riders of the Mark, I would wager," Aragorn said, letting out a long breath. "Let us go down where can see them closer.  If it is indeed the men of Rohan who approach, we would do well to seek their aid, for they may have news of our friends."

Erin felt Legolas nod and shift her weight slightly as they began to descend the slope.  She heard Gimli arrive shortly, following the agile man and elf down the steep hill with grumbles and mutterings.  They reached the bottom, and she felt Legolas lift her from his shoulder, placing her gently on the ground before him.

"Stay behind us," he warned as Aragorn called out to the horsemen that rode past them.

"What news from the North, riders of Rohan!"

She didn't need Legolas' warning as the horsemen turned as a unit and formed a quick circle around them, their lances lowered and pointed at the small party. Gimli edged closer, and Erin found herself effectively hidden behind them. The glittering helmets of the riders and their weapons made her grateful for their presence.

"Who are you and what are you doing on this land?" a voice belonging to one of the riders challenged.

"I am called Strider," Aragorn answered easily. "I came out of the north, and I am hunting Orcs."

The rider leapt easily from his horse, advancing towards them, drawing his sword.  Erin felt Legolas and Gimli stiffen, but the neither made a move as the rider approached them.

"Ah," he said at last. "At first I thought that you yourselves were Orcs, but I can see that this is not so.  Indeed, you must know little of Orcs to go hunting for them in this fashion. They were swift and well armed, and they were many. You would have changed from hunters to prey, if you had overtaken them.  But there is something strange about you, Strider." He looked keenly at Aragorn, his eyes bright in the darkness of the evening. "That is no name for a Man you give. And strange, too, is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass?  How did you escape our sight? Are you Elvish folk?"

"Only one of us is an elf," Aragorn replied. "Legolas from the Woodland Realm in distant Mirkwood. But we have passed through Lothlórien, and the gifts and the favor of the Lady go with us."

The eyes of the rider of Rohan hardened. "Then there is a Lady of the Golden Wood, as the old tales tell," he said. "Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days indeed!  But if you have her favor, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe." He turned a cold eye to Legolas and Gimli, noting the dark-haired woman that hid behind them both. "And why do you not speak, silent ones?" he demanded.

Gimli growled. "Give me your name horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides."

Erin could tell the conversation wasn't going well - she could feel the tension between these riders and their company like a tangible thing, and it frightened her. She wondered if they all could hear her heart hammering in her chest.

The rider took affront to Gimli's words, but introduced himself nonetheless as Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark.

"You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you," Gimli said with heat, his fingers gripping his axe tightly.

She heard the murmur of anger sweep through the riders and closed her eyes. Why did the dwarf have to get so testy all of a sudden? 

"I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground," said Éomer, his eyes blazing with his anger.

"He stands not alone," Legolas said, fitting an arrow to his bow with hands quicker than anyone could follow. "You would die before stroke fell."

Erin was convinced they were all going to die.  Who will ever explain this to my parents she wondered, half-hysterically. She went camping and was slaughtered needlessly over stupid male posturing.  Caught in the crossfire, as it were.  She stifled the insane giggle that threatened to bubble out of her, knowing that now was most definitely not the time to indulge in hysterics.

But Aragorn was talking in his soothing voice, and the men of Rohan, Éomer included, were listening.  Weapons that were trained on them suddenly dropped away, and the horsemen backed away slightly, giving them all more room to breathe.

She did not heed their discussion, overwhelmed once more with a sense of un-reality. She really needed to wake up from this awful camping-trip-from-hell induced dream.  Recalling every bad 'this is just a dream' movie and book she had ever seen or read, Erin pinched herself as hard as she could.  She winced from the pain of it, but nothing around her changed. She was still standing behind Legolas, Gimli beside her, and now the riders were leaving.

"What happened?" she asked them quietly, rubbing her arm where she had pinched herself. 

The elf's expression was grave. "They found the party of Orcs we tracked, and killed them to the last one.  They saw no sign of Merry or Pippin neither during the attack, nor afterwards, when they burned the bodies."

Aragorn was leading two horses behind him, and Erin watched him approach, seeing the worry on his face.

"Éomer has lent us these to ride to aid us in our search. They belonged to two riders who fell during their battle with the Orcs," he said quietly, stroking the nose of one of them. "This one is called Hasufel, the other is Arod."

"I would sooner walk," Gimli grumbled, looking up at the horses that towered over his small form with dislike. "Than to ride on the back of so great a beast, free or begrudged."

Erin could understand his feelings - the horses were quite a bit larger than he, but she didn't share them - anything to keep from having to run any more, or be carried over someone's shoulder, for that matter.

"But you must ride," Aragorn said firmly. "Or you will hinder us."

"You can ride behind me," Legolas said with a laugh, stroking the nose of Arod lightly. "And take your ease there."

Gimli chose not to rise to Legolas' obvious bait, instead accepted his assistance into the saddle, clutching the edges of it nervously.

Aragorn regarded Erin, wondering if her stubborn streak was about to reassert itself.  "You will ride with me," he said quietly, and was relieved to see no anger on her face. "I would have had you return with the Riders of the Mark to Edoras, but they are not returning just yet, so you must yet journey with us."

Erin snorted, placing her booted foot in the cupped hands that Aragorn offered her and lifted herself into the saddle of the tall horse, trying to ignore the sudden pang of fear that went through her when she realized just how far away the ground was. "You would have left me with a bunch of strange men who would have killed you just a few moments ago, yet you don't trust me to survive on my own?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow slightly.  "That makes just so much sense."

Aragorn ignored her jibe, swinging into the saddle behind her easily. "The men of Rohan are noble and would treat you honorably, Lady. You would have been far safer with them if they were returning to the city."

"If you say so," Erin replied, gripping the edges of the saddle Hasufel began to move.  She closed her eyes, hanging on for dear life as the animal moved faster.  She felt Aragorn's arm slide around her middle and help support her.

"Relax," he said in her ear as the wind whistled past them, Hasufel's strides making the ground passing by them a mere blur of grass. "I would not let you fall."

"I've never been on a horse before," Erin said through clenched teeth. "Unless you count the pony rides at the fair when I was five."

She felt Aragorn chuckle. "But this is certainly better than being carried, is it not?"

Erin stiffened slightly. "I don't know," she retorted sharply. "I had a pretty nice view of your backside."

It was Aragorn's turn to stiffen behind her, and she laughed. "I'm only kidding. I wasn't much in the mood to admire the view."  She hadn't been either. She'd been much too angry and humiliated at the time to notice anything.  Although she understood his motives at the time, she hadn't forgiven him for spanking her, and planned on making it plain to him that he'd better keep his hands to himself in the future.  Now, of course, was not the time.

"Kidding?" he asked, his hands guiding the horse towards a column of smoke that was hanging over the horizon like a giant black cloud.

"Teasing," she explained, watching the smoke grow larger as they approached. 

"Oh," he replied shortly, seeing the pile of still smoldering bodies as they crested the top of the hill.

The smell of burning bodies hit them shortly afterwards, making Erin blanch and cover her mouth and nose with her hand.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she groaned, trying to breathe as shallowly as she could. She pulled her sweatshirt over her nose and mouth, using it as a filter. It didn't help much, and Erin could almost taste the stench of the burning Orcs on the back of her tongue.

"It will pass," Aragorn tried to assure her, his hand stroking her hair back from her forehead in a soothing manner.  It wasn't working.

"Let me off, Aragorn. Right now," she said, twisting in the saddle abruptly as she felt her gorge begin to rise.

The horse had barely stopped when she slid to the ground, kneeling as she threw up the bit of freeze-dried roast beef and potatoes she had eaten the night before, grateful that she hadn't eaten anything else.

Aragorn watched with sympathy as she heaved. She was certainly not the first person to throw up after smelling dead and burning orc bodies, and he was sure she would not be the last. He heard Legolas and Gimli stop behind them and saw Legolas' concerned look at the wretched girl on the ground, heaving her guts up.

"She will be all right in a moment," Aragorn said quietly, watching her wipe her mouth with the sleeve of the strange shirt she wore, her head tilted back and her face pale.  "Stay with her, I am going to have a closer look."

Erin was embarrassed to realize she had an audience, and quickly wiped her mouth, tasting the foul bile she had thrown up. She hadn't been able to help herself, however. Between the horrible smell and the recent turn of events in her usually normal and placid life, it was just too much for her to take.  She felt a gentle hand on her back and the rim of a cup placed against her lips.

"Drink, it will help," Legolas' voice came softly at her ear.  She took the cup from him with her trembling hands and managed to take a sip. It was water, slightly warm, but pure tasting. She used the mouthful she had taken to swish the bad taste from her mouth, spitting it a good distance away, grimacing as she did so. She took another drink and swallowed, feeling the water soothe her throat, which was raw from her earlier upheavals.

"Better?"

"A little," she admitted, giving him a wry look. "Not the most graceful and ladylike thing I've ever done in the company of men."

"Can you stand?" Legolas asked, taking the cup from her and stowing it in her pack.

She nodded. "Probably."  It was pretty damn pitiful, she thought, struggling to her feet. She was probably the worst person in the world to be stuck where she was right now. She was just a college student at WSU, working towards her English Major.  She hadn't even finished reading the damn books!  Why on earth had this happened to her? 

Legolas helped her, pulling her to her feet and watching closely as she stood unsteadily. Satisfied that she was not going to fall over, he turned to Gimli.

"I am going to see what Aragorn has found.  Would you walk with Erin?  It is not far from here."  He mounted the gray horse easily and fluidly, looking down at them.

Gimli nodded his assent; glad to be off the back of the horse, no matter how much faster he could travel on its back. 

"Wait," Erin said as Legolas made to move out. "Can I have my pack, please?"

He reached back and unhooked it from the saddle's strings that held it in place, handing it down to her.

"Catch up quickly," he said, before kicking the horse into a canter.

Erin opened her pack, searching through it until her fingers reached an article of clothing she'd been missing earlier.  Middle-Earth or not, she was not about to go traipsing around without it.

Gimli watched her curiously, wondering what she could possibly need that could not wait.  She pulled out a white piece of cloth with strange straps, balling it up in her hands when she saw him looking.  A faint flush rose on her pale cheeks, and he wondered why she was embarrassed.

"Gimli, could you turn around?" she asked, feeling a like a complete idiot. "This will only take a second, but it's a, er, private thing."

Gimli's bushy eyebrows rose in curiosity, but he did as she asked, giving her his back.  He heard the sound of cloth against skin, and heard her muttering under her breath.  He resisted the urge to sneak a look, however tempting it was, and waited until she was finished.

"Thank you," she said with a small smile. "That is so much better."

He grunted in reply and set out walking towards the direction that Legolas and Aragorn had ridden, hearing her fall in step behind him.

"What was that all about?" he asked finally, curiosity getting the better of him.

Erin blushed slightly and turned to look at the forest that bordered the grassland they walked on. How would she explain a bra to a male dwarf, much less the necessity of one?

Gimli sensed she did not want to talk about it. Disappointed, he didn't press the issue, and continued their walk in silence.

The smell was tolerable at this point, albeit just as awful, Erin thought as they reached the pile of burnt bodies. She was unable to prevent a shudder and looked away from them to stare at the dark trees that loomed over this patch of grassland.  They were quite different from any tree she had ever seen, although they appeared to be some type of evergreen.  Their trunks were huge, and their branches gnarled and drooping, and there was something almost menacing about the way they loomed above them, as if they threatened anyone who tried to pass by.

"This is the Fangorn," Legolas said quietly from beside her, startling her because she had not heard him approach. "It is a very old forest indeed.  Strange are the tales of this wood. They say that any who enter here are never seen again."

He was teasing her, trying to keep her mind off the gruesome sight behind her, and she appreciated his efforts.

"The trees of my world don't eat people," she replied with forced lightness. "Although no one would blame them if they did." She turned her head to look at the elf standing beside her, admiring his beauty and stillness. "The trees of my world are cut down faster than they can grow, and they say that soon, there will be no more left."

Legolas' hazel eyes widened in dismay. "That is a terrible thing," he said. "Does no one care for the green and living things of your world?"

Erin gave him a small smile as she shook her head. "There are some groups of people who are trying to protect what is left, but it isn't easy for them."  She turned back to the ominous looking trees. "It's too bad there are no elves in my world, Legolas."

Aragorn's shout brought them out of their reverie and they turned, Legolas moving swiftly across the grass to his side.

"Here, look," Aragorn said excitedly, holding up a small and gleaming object.

"That is a cloak pin from the Lady," Gimli said grimly.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall," Aragorn agreed, his eyes sweeping the ground for further traces of the hobbits. "Here! Two hobbits lay on the ground." He bent down, touching the grass with his fingers, and Erin was impressed he could tell anything from the trampled dirt and grass around them. "They crawled together here. See, here is a piece of rope – it has been cut!  And here," he moved to another spot nearby. "Leaves from the Mellyrn, with crumbs of Lembas still inside."  His eyes tracked over the ground, looking for further signs, and were rewarded with a small footprint in the mud at the edge of the Fangorn. "They have entered the woods!" he exclaimed. 

"Aye, and they were followed," Legolas said, his eyes catching something the ranger had missed.  "By an orc, if my eyes do not deceive me."

"Come," Aragorn called. "We may catch them yet, for these tracks are barely hours old." And with that, he darted between the gnarled trunks of the trees.

"Stay close, lassie," Gimli said, pulling her after him as he followed Legolas. "I do not like these woods at all."

Erin heard Legolas' laugher floating back to them. "These trees are far older than you, Gimli, son of Gloin," the elf's voice came to them, though they were quite a bit behind. "Lay your axe to rest, and you will have naught to fear in these woods."

Gimli fingered his axe as he jogged after the fleet elf and man, reluctant to put it aside.  Erin couldn't blame him, for she felt the ominous press of the trees around them.  They seemed to resent their living presence, and the back of Erin's neck prickled with a growing sense of uneasiness.

They reached Aragorn and Legolas, who had stopped in their tracks, their eyes wide. Both had their weapons out and were looking around them rapidly, searching for the danger they all felt approaching them.  Erin stepped behind them, wishing she had something - anything to defend herself with, as she heard the sounds of someone or something approach.

Legolas had his arrow knocked and trained on the sound, and he felt Aragorn tense and ready beside him. Gimli was gripping his axe. 

A fierce white glow filled the glade where they stood, and Erin squinted, trying to see the source of it.  The glow faded, and in its place stood an old man, wearing the gray robes of a peasant traveler.

"Well met, my friends," the old man said, raising his arms in greeting. The gray robes he wore parted, and underneath came a flash of purest white.

"It is Saruman!" Legolas cried, bringing his arrow to bear on the old man.

 "Put away that bow, Master Elf," the old man said sharply.

Erin watched in shock as Legolas' arms dropped to his sides, his bow and arrow sliding uselessly from his fingers.

"And you, Master Dwarf, pray take your hand from that axe-hilt.  You do not need such arguments!"

Again Erin was stunned when Gimli did as he commanded, his axe dropping to the forest floor, forgotten.

"Well met I say again," said the old man, coming closer towards them.  When he was a few feet away he stopped, standing stopped over his staff, with his head thrust forward, peering at them uncertainly. "And what may you be doing in these parts? An elf, a Man, a Woman, and a Dwarf, all save one clad in Elvish fashion, and the other clad so strangely that I am not certain that my eyes do not deceive me.  No doubt there is a tale worth hearing behind it all. Such things are not often seen here."

"You speak as one that knows Fangorn well," Aragorn said uneasily. "Is that so?"

"Not well," said the old man. "That would be the study of a lifetime. But I come here, now and again."

 "Might we know your name," Aragorn asked politely. "Before we hear what it is you would say to us?"

Erin was confused. Hadn't Legolas just said it was Saruman?  But Saruman was a bad guy, if she remembered correctly. This old man certainly didn't act like a villain, if that was who he was.

"As for what I have wished to say, I have said it.  What may you four be doing, and what tale can you tell of yourselves? As for my name?" He broke of, laughing long and softly.

Erin saw Aragorn shudder at the sound and felt it too. There was no terror to it, rather she felt as if she had just been doused with ice cubes and brought sharply awake.

"My name?" said the old man again. "Have you not guessed it already?  You have heard it before, I think. Yes, you have heard it before.  But come now, what of your tale?"

The four of them regarded the old man silently, unwilling to speak in the silence that grew.  Erin did not know what motivated the others to keep silent, but she found her tongue was tied, and her brain did not provide her with anything useful to say.

"There are some who would begin to doubt whether your errand is fit to tell," admonished the old man in the face of their silence. "Happily, I know something of it, I believe.  You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits. Yes, hobbits. Don't stare as if you have never heard the strange name before. You have, and so have I." He gave another low chuckle. "They climbed up here the day before yesterday, and they met with someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?  And now, you would like to know where they were taken?"

The old man was obviously a nut, Erin decided, listening to him prattle on. His gentle admonishments to them belied the strength of power she had seen in him when he disarmed her companions so easily. Nor did he seem worried when Gimli and Legolas picked up their weapons once more.

"Well," continued the old man, his eyes twinkling. "Perhaps I can give you news of that as well, but why are we all standing? Your errand, you see, is no longer as urgent as you thought. Come, let us sit down and be more at ease." And with that, he sat on a rock behind him, his robes spreading wide with the movement, revealing once more that purely blinding flash of white beneath the gray.

"Saruman!" Gimli cried, springing toward the old man with his axe in hand. "Tell us where you have hidden our friends! What have you done with them! Speak! Or I shall make a dint in your hat that even a wizard will find hard to deal with!"

The old man was far too quick for Gimli's strike to reach him. He sprang to his feet with youthfulness and agility that belied his years and leapt on top of the stone he had been sitting on. His gray rags flung away, and his white garments shone almost too bright to bear.  He raised his staff and Gimli's axe leaped from his grasp and fell ringing to the ground.

Erin gasped in terror as Aragorn's sword, which he had held motionless throughout the exchange, blazed suddenly like it had caught on fire. Legolas shouted, firing an arrow high into the air, where it burst into flame.

"Mithrandir!" Legolas cried in disbelief and happiness. "Mithrandir!"

"Well met, I say to you, Legolas!" replied the old man with a delighted grin.

Erin shook her head, her heart hammering wildly in her throat at the sudden turn of events. Legolas acted like the old man was a dear friend of his, and perhaps he was. Yet why the silly act to begin with? She didn't understand any of it, and she didn't recognize the name Legolas gave him from the chattering of her friends.  Nothing so far had made sense in this wood.

Aragorn and Gimli were acting just as strange, treating the old man like a long lost friend, Gimli struggling to hide the tears in his eyes as he embraced the old man.

He was clothed all in white, from his hair to his feet, and he held a wooden staff made of twisted branches in his left hand, embracing Gimli freely with his right.  Erin started when he looked up from Gimli to stare at her, his expression both surprised and curious.

"And who is this that travels with you, Aragorn?" the old man asked quietly, his piercing blue gaze making Erin want to bolt away like a scared rabbit.

"This is Erin Smith," Aragorn introduced her, pulling her unwillingly forward to meet the old man. "Erin, this is Gandalf, an old and trusted friend that we had thought dead to us."

"Gandalf?" the old man repeated in surprise. "Gandalf? Yes, I remember I was once called by that name." A slow smile spread across his face. "Yes, you may still call me that," he said with a chuckle, turning his attention back to Erin, who was trembling in the soles of her hiking boots. 

She recognized the most famous name of all immediately, but it did not ease her fear very much. The old man was powerful, and not necessarily in his right mind, as far as she was concerned, her companions opinions aside.

"You are frightened of me, child," Gandalf admonished lightly, smiling up at her. "It was not my intention to frighten you." He sighed, reaching out to take her hands, chafing them slightly between his.  "Alas I had forgotten all that I was. But I am not a cruel man, nor an evil one."

Erin nodded, wishing he would release her hands. He seemed to sense her unease and let go of them, his smile growing slightly.

"Can you send me home?" she asked, the question first and foremost on her mind. He was a wizard, after all. If anyone could send her home, he could.

Gandalf looked at her so searchingly that she felt as if her whole life was being laid out on display for him.

"Home, child?" he asked gently. "You are a stranger here to this land, I can see that clearly, yet there may be some part for you to play here that I cannot guess.  The Valar have their reasons for the things they do, and it is not my task to guess at them."

She'd been afraid he'd say something like that. Typical wizard, she groused inwardly. "Who are the Valar?" she asked curiously. She'd never heard her friends speak of them.

"They control our fates and our destinies," Gandalf explained simply, not wanting to overwhelm her with more complicated explanation.

"Are they gods?" Erin asked.

"In their own way, I suppose, yes. Yes, you could call them that," Gandalf replied with a small smile.

"So you can't send me home," she said flatly, desperately trying to rein in her anger and disappointment. It wasn't Gandalf's fault she was stuck here.

"I am afraid not, child," the old man said, sighing. "Though I wish that I could. You are unprepared for the world here - for although your world has its violence, nothing I think, can compare for the violence to come."

"The ring thing," Erin said, remembering a bit more. Her comment made Gandalf smile.

"Yes, yes. The ring.  But we must not worry about it, for its fate is no longer in our hands."  His kindly features grew sad as he regarded her close. "The battle against evil has already begun."

Erin stepped back, feeling as if someone had punched her in the stomach. From Gandalf's words, something incredibly bad was on its way, something far worse than the pile of dead Orcs outside these woods.  And she was still stuck here.

They saw her face turn a pale shade of green before she dropped to her knees, her back facing them as she dry heaved on the leaves of the forest floor.

Read Chapter 3