Disclaimer: I own nothing, save for my own character(s).

Author: born to be hanged a.k.a. Meltintalle

Title: The Key

Rating: PG-13 (for adult themes and language) (R chapter is possible with a warning)

Genre(s): Action/Adventure/Humor/Romance (romance is minor)

Compact Summary: The fourth theme of the Ainulindalë presented the creation of portals leading to different dimensions, opened by permission of Eru and the Ainur with the use of a silver key. The temporary holder of the key passed it to his daughter before he died. Sauron's possession of the key would provide endless allies, a safe haven, and supplies. Full summary inside. R&R!

Author's Note: Thanks to all reviewers! You guys make my day!

I couldn't get an asterisk to work for the author's notes at the end of the chapters. So if you're confused about something, i'll probably be down there, just not marked.

italicized text indicates a character's thoughts

A special note of thanks to my beta, Satori (Satori Blackthorn)

Chapter Three

Call Me Jane

Footballs are hitting me. Ugh, I feel like the football…. I lay as completely still as I could, feeling as though I had been battered by more than one of my imaginary footballs. There was a slightly dull ache coming from my upper back, but I suspected that the pain it was causing would become much worse if I tried to move. My head was also throbbing slightly, though it did not hurt as much as I anticipated when I moved it a fraction of an inch to my left. I knew that I had hit it twice just moments ago. Or was it just moments ago? I had been sleeping, maybe unconscious, so perhaps it had been more than a few minutes.

My eyes snapped open to be blinded temporarily by the bright morning sunlight, and I knew that I had been out cold for a couple of hours. Actually, considering that I had begun to hear the screeches just after the sun had set, I had been out cold for more than a couple of hours. My throat felt parched and dry, and I groaned, feeling the muscles in my neck twang painfully. My face was hot, maybe with a low fever from my head injuries. Well, it can't be from this damn cold weather, I thought, deciding to wait a couple more minutes to move again.

A cool, but not freezing, rag ran gently across my forehead, causing me to jump and yell out. My breathing became ragged again, and I struggled to lift my arm to swat away the cool rag, along with the hand that held it, even though the coolness on my hot face had felt deliciously good. There were strange people in this world, people who were crazy enough to hurt another and then allow them to regain consciousness before resuming their murderous games. I quickly raised myself to a more defensible position, almost crying out when I first moved. Man, I must have some major bruising…. But I shoved away the pain, thinking that this was more important.

"Get away from me, you sick sonofa-," I growled, grinding my teeth, expecting to see a skinny, psychopathic murderer with a billowing black cape and a black horse nearby. My eyes almost deceived my mind into thinking that this was the person sitting in front of me. But I widened my eyes, and watched as a boy with light brown, untidy curls, and somewhat long hair stared back at me with wide but unafraid eyes. In his hands, slightly grimy hands, was the wet rag.

"Oh," I stuttered, ashamed that I had almost sworn so viciously in front of such a young person. I usually kept my swearing to a minimal when with children. There was no reason for me to corrupt them at such a young age. "I…. Jee, kid, I didn't realize…."

"Hush, it is alright," he said, his accent sounding surprisingly strange and deep to my ears. A mix of Gaelic and British? I wondered, for a moment completely stunned. His voice seemed as though it did not fit him. He looked so small and almost childlike, but when I looked closer, I realized that his face was more weatherbeaten than I had thought. In fact, when I looked more closely, which I did, examining him from all angles possible from my position, he looked as though he possessed much more maturity than I had given him credit for.

I sat for a few moments, stupefied, then realized at last that he had spoken more words in his foreign accent. "Huh?"

He frowned, the expression quite handsome on such a small person. "I said that you should lay down again. Strider shall be back in a moment or so, and I don't want to risk more injuries. You've already got a pretty cut on your head."

I tilted my head again, this time much more aware of the pain that it evoked. I grimaced, realizing that he was probably right. "Yah, tell me about it," I groaned, vaguely wondering what he meant by 'Strider'. Some freakish name for a friend? "I feel like I got run over by a truck." I slowly lowered myself to the ground, wishing I had some aspirin in my backpack.

As soon as I was lying vertically on the ground, two more faces came into view. Both looked as though they had similarities to the first boy, though they did not look as if they were related. I wondered if I was right in assuming that they were young. All but their physical appearance of height was pointing to the fact that they were older than they seemed, but I just couldn't bring myself to believe it. One was slightly more plump than the other.

There was much muttering and asking how I felt and would I like something to eat because I had been knocked out for quite some time? I didn't know what to say for a moment. One question at a time, people! I found myself focusing on the last question, the one about if I wanted anything to eat, which I absolutely did. But I felt a bit strange asking these strangers if I could eat their food. However, I didn't have much of a choice, because the boy who had asked had quickly walked away and come back with a couple of morsels in his hand.

He sat down next to me, obviously wondering what to do now. He eventually decided to just hold it out to me politely, an almost sheepish look on his face. I took it, murmuring my thanks. I ate them, feeling instantly much better, but I thought that drinking some of my bottled water would be very satisfying.

"Hey, do I still have my book bag anywhere around here?" I asked, feeling very stupid. I lifted my head, feeling relieved that it did not hurt as much as I thought I would have. I quickly propped myself up on my elbows, enabling myself to see more around me.

"Your pack is beside you," another boy said. His eyes were watching my every move, I noticed, and I knew he was probably a bit suspicious of me. Of the four, he had the darkest hair, and the most fair complexion. I glanced to my right a bit, and sure enough, my bag was lying in the grass, surrounded by various strange plants.

"Thanks," I said, grabbing for it. As I opened the zipper, I saw all four of the boys tense immediately. Their eyes did not widen, but I could sense that everyone was very distrustful. I slowed my movements, as if a sudden move would cause them to lash out. When I brought out my water bottle and took off the cap, the tension in the air seemed to lessen a bit, but not very much. Four pairs of eyes watched as I took a large swig of water. What the hell are they staring at? What am I, a museum exhibit?

I finally put my water bottle down in my lap, still holding it in my hand. "Can I help you?" I asked, suddenly being reminded of a store manager.

But they didn't have a chance to answer, because at that moment two men appeared behind them. I saw all four boys visibly relax, and I frowned. Both were tall, and I noted with distaste that they were unclean. When I looked more closely later, I also realized that the four boys were also grubby. I immediately chided myself for this thought, since I was probably just as soiled. My body might not have been as dirty, but I knew that my hair was probably worse. Because of the electricity shortage, both my mother and I could only wash our hair once or twice a week. I just simply didn't make enough money to take long showers everyday. Man, and this was supposed to be my long showering day, too.

One was more sturdy than the other. The first one had a bit of a ruddy and weather beaten complexion, with an almost noble composure. I couldn't quite pin my thoughts on this, but he seemed tall and mighty, like some great warrior. I almost blushed thinking these ridiculous thoughts. His hair was light brown with an auburn tint to it, and it was long enough to pass his ears. His clothes, like the other people, looked as though he had stepped out of a movie set for an old movie. He carried a shield, I noticed, and a long knife, which I was not too fond of looking at.

The other man was somewhat smaller and more lithe in frame. His dark brown hair also fell past his ears, parted in the center, and his chin was rough with unshaved stubble. His face also showed hardships, and like the other man, he had an presence of authority and poise around him. I watched carefully as they strode towards me confidently, still holding my water bottle to my lips.

The first man was the first to speak. "Are you fairing better than before, my lady?" His voice was a bit rough, but it was nevertheless the most courteous thing anyone of the opposite sex had ever said to me.

Well, let's see. I just got two head injuries in one day, my foot hurts like a mother, and I was unconscious for a couple hours. Oh, and I feel like I just go run over by a truck and then pelted with footballs, then used as the football. But no, I'm alright. I was really very tempted to say all of this out loud, but I knew I would feel very stupid afterwards, so I decided on a more polite approach. After all, I had problems with social contact. Maybe this would be the first step: be nice. But sadly, I was not a nice girl. "I- I'm, okay, I mean I've felt better, but I'm- I'm okay," I stuttered. I thought that sounded a bit polite, but I wasn't sure.

They've all got some sort of long knife, I thought rubbing my temples. Maybe I had hit my head harder than I had thought. I wondered if I should actually ask them for help or just try to get as far from this spot as possible. After all, these people could have been the riders. There is such a thing as changing clothes and ditching the horses. Asking them for help would put me in a very vulnerable position, and they would know that I was lost, therefore not capable of escaping their grasp. On the other hand, I really wanted to get home, and they probably already figured out that I was lost. How many young women do you come across in a huge forest, alone and with no supplies? Yah, I'm kind of obvious. What the hay, I'll just ask them.

"Perhaps you should rest for some more time," the second man said, and his voice held authority. "You still look pallid, and you must let your body become accustomed to your injuries."

I stared at him. What the hell? I snapped my mouth shut to prevent myself from drooling. That would have been really embarrassing if I'd drooled. "Uh… yeah, okay," I said, not really thinking there was anything else to say. "I actually have to get going, so I'm fine." I propped myself up higher, but hesitated to get to my feet. Man, I'm a wimp. I quickly pushed myself up, trying to ignore the shooting pains in my foot. At this moment I knew it was a very small sprain, because if it was anything worse I definitely would not be standing up at that moment. Once I stood, I stepped back a few feet to lean against the trunk of a tree, trying not to pant.

"My lady," the first man said. I shrank back as he rushed towards me and took my arm. "Your foot is not at its best. You should not put weight on it until a brace is formed."

Oh my God, he's touching my arm! Get off! I tried to pull my arm away casually and make it look like I wasn't disgusted, but this obviously did not work. A concerned look came upon both of them men's faces when I yanked my arm away. It wasn't that I had something against the guy, he might've been the nicest person in the world. But I had a bubble around me and I valued my personal boundaries. I didn't like people to touch me. At all. In all the ways that I wished I could meet my parents, I almost got nervous at the prospect of meeting them. Parents would expect you to hug and kiss them, not turn them away. I was not a warm and fuzzy person, I guess you could say.

"Is something the matter, my lady?" the second man asked, and though he had concern sketched into his facial expression, it seemed as though he was thinking about some very big problem underlying all others.

Okay, why are they acting so polite? What is this, the middle ages? "What's with the 'my lady'?" I asked, suddenly irritated at their supposed care of my health. "It's just- Jane. Just Jane," I lied, not wanting to reveal my name to them. I cursed myself to stumbling over the words.

The second man stood in front of me, an almost knowing look on his face. He had a strange effect on me so that I felt as though he was chiding me for lying to him. I hoped I would not blush, but of course, my hope was dumped. He, and I say he because it was not just his face, seemed to know a lot about me by looking forward with that knowing and understanding look about him. I shifted my weight to my right foot, remembering too late my sprain. Fudge! Damn it, damn it damn it…. I hastily put my weight on the other foot, which was beginning to ache. Damn it, I have flat feet, too.

When I looked at the other man, his face held concern, but he did not have that knowing aurora around him. He may have sensed that I had lied to him, though. However, I had no time to analyze them any longer because yet another set of figures came into view, but I could not see them clearly because they were very far away. I could barely see them through the trees.

At first I only thought that there was one figure, because the second almost looked as though she were part of nature. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw from a distance a very tall, yet somewhat masculine, woman walking towards us with grace that I knew no man could ever hope to possess. She had beautiful, long blonde hair and very fair features. She was very tall, and I noticed as she came closer with an effortless grace that she had no breasts. I frowned, squinting, then realized with surprise that the figure was not a woman, but a man. My mouth dropped for the second time that day, and I almost wheezed from the effort to breathe.

What the hell? I could now see that the figure was undeniably male, although that long hair had fooled me when I couldn't yet see the facial features. I was really glad he would never know I had thought of him as a woman. He was wearing a soft-looking, green and brown outfit that looked as though it could have been comprised of the forest itself. A bow and pack of arrows were strapped to his back, and he also carried a knife.

His companion was as short as he was tall. He had a helmet on, so I could not see more than his bright red hair and his beard. Unlike the others, he didn't carry a knife, but the axe at his side was definitely not heartwarming. In a few moments they were standing next to the two men.

I felt like a circus animal with all of them standing in front of me. I raised my chin, trying to look cool and confident. "So I've told you who I am, you need to tell me all your names," I demanded, feeling very smart for lying about my name. Of course, they could probably do the same thing, but we don't need to think about that right now.

"You did not reveal your name to me," said the short man with the helmet in a rough voice. I could now see part of his face. It was very ruddy and weather beaten, but he looked healthy.

"L- Jane. Jane," I said, correcting myself. Damn it, Lalaine, what's wrong with you? He looked at me with a look on his face that resembled suspicion. I couldn't really see through his helmet that well.

"I express my apologies, my lady," the second man with the knowing way about him said, "for not introducing myself. It is not safe to do so freely in these days of danger."

I squinted my eyes at him. These days of danger? Oh, well, okay, that's reasonable. I tilted my head back, relaxing the muscles in my face. "Yeah, I guess you're right. You know, the War on Terrorism isn't just commercial." I relaxed a little. Maybe these people weren't psychopathic murderers. They seemed to be as cautious as me.

"War on terrorism," the blonde murmured quietly. I couldn't tell what his feelings on it were, because his face was completely devoid of any other emotion aside from a peaceful and unbiased expression.

"Yeah, War on Terrorism. You know, the war that was started a long while ago?" I frowned, not getting any responses. Please say you know what the War on Terrorism is, dude. You must have been living in a closet not to know what that is. You're freaking in America, dipsticks! I really wanted to shift my weight, but I managed to restrain myself. I didn't like the feeling of being ganged up on.

"Okay, you people are really scaring me. You do know what I'm talking about, right? Just nod and smile." Because honestly, if you don't even know what the War on Terrorism is, well, I don't really know. I think I'm scared now. I watched the blonde, expecting him to jump into to defend himself. But he looked as though he was considering something of unimportance, and as though he had all the time in the world to do so.

"'Tis a unique term for the war," he said eventually, his voice cool and confident, yet quiet and wise. "But 'tis valid."

I squinted my eyes at him, staring at him with disbelief. "Yeah," I said, drawing out the word. "Okay, well." I tried desperately to think of something intelligent to say, but this obviously wasn't going to happen. Well, how the fudge are you supposed to respond sanely to something like that? I swallowed a couple of times, and looked up at the sky as if I felt as cool and confident as the blonde, which I couldn't really see because of the green canopy of leaves above us.

I looked down at them expectantly after a while, but all were looking at me expectantly. I looked from one of them to another, wondering what they expected me to do.

"So," I said, drawling out the 'o'. "Can you get me a one way ticket out of this place?" I put my thumb up I the air, motioning to the back of me. I waited for an answer, but no one gave any. I cleared my throat. All save for the blonde were looking at my face now. The man seemed to be looking past me, as though he could see past my exterior and sort through my thoughts as if they were files in a computer waiting to be hacked into.

"What is your meaning by one way ticket?" the short man demanded, and his voice accused me of something, though I wasn't quite sure what it was. He was now looking straight at me, a mix expression set on his face.

I frowned, suddenly annoyed. "You know what I mean. A one way ticket. What's wrong with all of you?"

"We fair well," said the man with the more lithe appearance, "but you speak in riddles. Perhaps you would tell us whence you came." He motioned for me to sit.

I frowned, taken aback. What are you talking about? Why the hell are you talking like that? I thought for a moment, and noted that this could be some strange club. There were actually people in this world who formed clubs that centered on points of interest such as history. Aw, man. Just my luck. I'm stuck here with a group of weirdos. I moved myself so that I was leaning casually against the tree trunk instead of standing awkwardly apart from it. "Wait- Whence I came from? Dude, honestly, if this is some sick joke, it's really not funny."

"This is no laughing matter," the short man said gruffly. "Tell us whence you came from and what your business is in the forest." I saw his hand reach slowly towards the hilt of his axe. I assumed this was just instinct, and I knew I could easily dodge a midget with an axe, but this action no doubt made me a bit uneasy.

I stared at him in disbelief, lowering my eyebrows and opening my mouth partway. Is that a serious question? "I was hunting people," I said loudly, my crude sense of humor interrupting my common sense. I had an urge to laugh at that moment. But I stopped midsmile when I saw the look on the short man's face, which looked at me as though I had said something sick and wrong. No one laughed or made any sound. Okay, so they don't have my sense of humor. This didn't bother me. Most people thought my jokes were crude and sick.

"Ah, come on- I was just- I was just joking." I tried to lighten the mood by laughing myself. "Seriously, is that an honest question?"

"It would not have been asked had it not been an honest question," the lithe man said. I looked at him in exasperation. I kept having some feeling that he knew I was lying, that he knew my motives, my strengths, my weakness. He just knew.

"Well," I said briskly. "If you'll understand, since we're in such hard times, I think I'll keep that information secret until you tell me who you are." Dude, I can't believe they haven't guessed that I was lost yet.

The lithe and knowing man allowed a small curve of his lips. "Then at least allow us to direct you to your home village. It seems that you have wandered astray, and it is very obvious that your injury has delayed you." He took a step towards me and took me by the arm. I stiffened, and tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. "Do not be alarmed. I shall not hurt you. But you shall hurt yourself if you continue to shift your weight onto your ankle."

Well. I suppose he did guess after all. Spoke too soon. My attention was turned back to his hand, which now had a firm grasp on my upper arm. Ach, get off me! "Whoa, buddy, can you, like, back up a little there?" I said sarcastically. I knew he was right, and I should get off of my ankle, because I could feel it throbbing slightly.

"Come," he persuaded. "Sit down." He didn't answer to my comment. I kept jerking against his pull, but my efforts did absolutely nothing. He easily guided me over to where the four boys were sitting in a small group, and sat me down. I admit that my ankle felt much better after taking my weight off of it. But I was very peeved with the lithe man, and how he had grabbed me and pulled me over to the spot. I opened my mouth to protest, along with the uttering of other statements, but he spoke first.

"Now, Jane," he said, his voice smooth and clear. He sat crosslegged across from me. "You shall tell me the name of your home village."

"Say pretty pretty please with a cherry on top," I said, knowing very well that I was being very annoying and exasperating. I gave him a cheesy smile that masked the anger that was within. But he continued to look at me expectantly, cool and confident, and I suspected that he wasn't easily affected by taunting or anything of the sort. I sighed. "Augusta, I live in Augusta. Obviously you're just passing through. And I'd hardly describe it was a home village."

If he was at all effected by my hostile attitude, he showed no sign. This, of course, confused me. Wouldn't he ever get angry? He continued to sport that calm and collected expression and said nothing. One of the boys, however, spoke up. He was the most plump of the four.

"Now, I may only be a gardner," he said with his very endearing accent, "but I know a good lot of geography, and I have never heard of an Augusta in these parts. Interesting name, that is." His face held a little bit of confusion, but it was overpowered by curiosity.

What is wrong with these people? They've got to be lying. Right? RIGHT! I stared at him, my left eye narrowing as if in mid-twitch. Then again, he is just a kid. Okay, mental note for future encounters with children: Never ever ask them for directions. But…. Even if he was young, wouldn't he have heard about Augusta? I was beginning to wonder about the sanity of each person that surrounded me. I had my doubts about them, but all of them seemed very circumstantial and prejudiced. They were dressed strangely, although each had a certain style, as if they were representing a different nation or custom. Their accents were very foreign, but there were plenty of accents that I wasn't familiar with. They carried weapons. This was normal, but most people carried more effective and easy weapons, such as guns. These people carried swords, knives, and shields; there was even an axe, a bow, and arrows.

Someone was speaking. I turned towards the speaker; it was the man with the brown-auburn hair.

"If you do not object," he was saying, "I believe my companions and I would like to see you escorted to safety in a nearby village. We apologize for the abrupt dropping off, but we may not tarry long."

I opened my mouth, but not sound came out. Tarry? I thought. Who says that anymore? And what's with all this courtesy crap? I figured I should just get it over with. Just ask them for directions, or if they really insisted on it, let them lead me to the road, then get away A.S.A.P. I cleared my throat. "Ehm, yeah. Uh, sure man, that'd be peachy. But I gotta get back A.S.A.P. So… let's not do any of your 'tarrying'." I tried very hard to keep a straight face while I said this, but I couldn't help making a dry sound from inside my throat. The effort to keep from cackling was definitely breaking into pieces, and the word 'tarry' was making my eyes tear.

His eyes shifted away from me, then snapped back suddenly. He tilted his head to the left. "Pardon?"

Pardon what? I felt my brow knit together. I wasn't sure what to say to that. I sat there on the ground, wondering whether they expected me to speak. And if they did, what did they expect me to say? I wiped my hands on my pants, which were completely dry from yesterday. Well, it has been a day.

The blonde man turned to the lithe one with brown hair, and began to speak. The weird thing was, I couldn't understand a word he was saying. It was quiet, but loud enough for me to hear, so obviously he didn't care if I listened. I tilted my head at it. I had never heard anything quite like it, not even in the movies. I wondered if it was just some language he'd made up. But maybe it was only because his voice was fit for a choir singer. That's stupid. Someone's voice can't just make a language sound different. It's definitely the language. What the hell are they saying?

My thoughts never stayed on one subject for a long time. It's not that I didn't find the language strange, but other things came to my mind as well. My thoughts sometimes resembled stream of consciousness. Ah, English class. Funny, I didn't know what that meant for the test, but I can't forget it now. Presently I almost choked on my own spit because as the blonde man turned his beautiful head, his hair flowed gracefully off of his shoulder. It pulled down his back, revealing his very prominent and pointed ears.

"Oh my God," I gasped, screeching the last word in horror. All heads turned towards me, and the flowing speech stopped. The two chatters looked very calm and nonchalant, obviously not worried about what I had to say. The four-- I couldn't really call them children anymore, because now that I looked more closely, they didn't look or sound like children. It was only their height that really compelled me to call them children, so I decided to call them midgets, even though this was a bit insulting. I thanked the Lord none of them could hear my thoughts-- midgets looked at me also. It seemed that everyone was in their own little conversation, save for me, who was sitting like a dumbass on the ground.

I felt my eyes open really wide, and I didn't want to blink, but I had to, or my eyes would start to tear and then it would look like I was crying. I carefully swallowed, making sure that I didn't choke on my spit, and my hands started to move around on the ground, searching for a stick, or better yet, a rock, so that I could defend myself. Oh my God, this really tops it off. I thought something was screwy before, but those- things- just top it all off. This and the fact that I had seen someone that looked like him who had tipped ears made me feel as if I was going to pee in my pants. Some pointy eared freak is following me! I want a restraining order!

"Has something gone amiss?" the blonde man asked, and I suddenly thought there was a trace of amusement in his voice.

"No," I said sarcastically, and I was very thankful that my hand closed upon an average-sized rock. "No, of course nothing's goddamn amiss. Not when your goddamn ears are pointed! You freak, get away from me!" He had began to walk towards me. He stopped, both hands held up in a sign of peace when I help up this really little rock that I was going to throw at him.

He looked at me thoughtfully, as though this was something that happened often. "You are surprised?" he finally asked.

"No," I said acidly, "of course not. It's like, everyday, that people come walking my way with freaking pointed ears. Why the hell did you do that to yourself?" Somethings are just cool, and some things are just not. This is just one of those not so cool things.

His lip curled just a little. I wondered if he used botox. Okay, that would be just plain weird. "I did nothing to myself. This is hereditary. All Elves are blessed with this feature." He kneeled down in front of me, sitting on his heels and supporting himself only on his toes. I wondered how he could do it so gracefully and not even sway. Didn't sway even once. Doesn't that hurt?

I felt like my mouth was an oval, and I knew my face was set into one of those "duh" faces. And I didn't like him that close to me, even though he wasn't invading my personal bubble. Wait- Elves? What's going on? Oh my God, I'm stuck in the middle of the woods with a bunch of creepy and possibly sadistic lunatics. And one of them thinks he's an elf.

"Yah, that's real funny, bud," I said, my voice cracking horribly. "And you were following me! I saw your reflection in the creek!" Now that I had voiced my suspicions, I kind of hoped it was true, because if not, that would make me look like the lunatic.

"I was not following you," he said calmly. I frowned. Ach, so I didn't see him. But I thought for sure I had….

"Then what in hell were you doing? Because that's not funny. You might think that damn elf joke is funny, but following me isn't." And it wasn't. How many times had I read about a young girl or woman get stalked by some psychopathic murderer? And how many times had that girl or woman survived? Stop thinking about that!

"I merely heard your screams, and decided to scout ahead to see if you were in danger. But I could not reveal myself to you, for I might have startled you." He continued to look at me thoughtfully, as though he saw something that I would never see in myself.

Yah, startled me. Then again, I probably would have been scared. No man wears tights. Then again, they say it takes a real man to wear pink. Maybe it takes a real man to wear tights?

"You're funny," I said bitterly. Either he was a real lunatic, or this was all just some sick practical joke. This was very possible, because I got pranked on countless times. I was the school's biggest loser, therefore the school's biggest target. I guess I brought some of it upon myself; I wasn't exactly a social kind of gal. I wasn't exactly a social kind of anything. So I guess you could say I brought some of it upon myself. "You're something. You're really something," I said, glaring at him bitterly. He didn't say anything, just stayed where he was, looking at me like he know all about me.

"Well," I said crisply, "I gave you my name, my home 'village', all that good stuff. I think it would be about time for you to tell me your names." I said the word 'village' more loudly than the other.

"Is that so?" the blonde man asked. He looked straight at me, his eyes boring into mine. I definitely did not like this. I mean, I wouldn't mind having a hot guy stare intensely into my eyes, but his gaze was just too intense. I quickly looked away, towards the lithe man, who was directly behind the blonde.

"I shall not reveal to you my name until you reveal yours," the blonde man said quietly, but his words rang and echoed in my ears. Did he know that I had lied? But how would he? I didn't make any slip-up! I'm an excellent liar! But it was obvious enough to me that I was not a good enough liar, and this blonde man knew that my name was not Jane.

"I told you," I insisted, trying to be really suave, and this time I was, "my name's Jane. Remember I told you that?" I didn't bat an eyelash, just said it really smooth. Ah, my talent has come back to me.

The blonde archer shifted his position, sighing lightly. "I am tired of this game, Little One," he said nonchalantly. "You and I both know that your real name is not Jane. I do not like liars, and 'tis not safe for yourself to be lying in this days. You will reveal to us your true name."

Author's Note: I'm sorry, I failed to specify something. This will NOT be a Legomance. My character will not have any affair with any member of the Fellowship other than vague friendships. If even that. I don't think she'll really be with them long enough to have more than an aquaintence.

Meltintalle