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 my reviewers!

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 Four

Jokes

Recap: 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."

I wrinkled my nose. Little One? What the hey? And what right did he have to tell me I was a liar? I mean, I was, but it was still something that not everyone would willingly say to another person. Most people were way too chicken. Though, I have to admit, he probably knew I would be no threat to him. Even if I did try to throw him a punch, the guy had a knife. I had no idea how fast he could whip it out and plunge it into my flesh, but I figured it must be pretty past, considering he kept it out on his belt for everyone to see, almost like he was bragging, saying, 'Don't mess with me. I have a knife and I know how to use it.'

Should I tell them my name? I wondered. I figured it wouldn't really matter, in the long run. And these people had saved my life. They'd even given me some of their food, too, so I figured that maybe my name wouldn't be such a big issue after all they'd done for me. I could just give them my first name, after all. It's not like you can know all about a person by knowing their first name.

"My name's Lalaine," I said finally. "Now will you tell me who you people are?"

The lithe man's face broke out into a smile. He had a nice smile, too. A lot of people just had regular smiles, smiles that didn't go into their eyes, but I really thought he had a real genuine smile. "Well met, Lalaine," he said. "I am called Aragorn, son of Arathorn." He strode towards me, bent to take my hand in his, and bushed his lips against it.

I had thought that his taking my hand had been invading my personal boundaries, but I was thoroughly disgusted when he kissed my hand. I quickly ripped it away from him, whiping the spot on my pants. "Uh, yah," I said hesitantly. You did not just kiss my hand! That is so wrong! I couldn't think of a time that anyone had bowed to me or kissed my hand. It just wasn't the normal way of greeting people.

"You may call me Strider if it pleases you," he finished.

So that's what- er, who- Strider is. Well. That clears that up. I nodded my head in recognition as the eight others introduced themselves. The short, stout man with the helmet was Gimli, son of Gloin. He said he was a dwarf. I wasn't sure what this "son of" crap was, but I went along with it anyway. The blonde archer in front of me, who claimed that he was an elf, introduced himself as Legolas. Lego-what? He had to repeat it to me about five times before I got it right. The man with the shield and auburn hair was called Borormir. The dark-haired midget introduced himself as Frodo, and his plump gardener friend was Samwise, but he told me to call him Sam. The last two midgets introduced themselves as Pippin and Meridoc. Meridoc had to repeat his name about five times to me too. So after my fifth or sixth attempt at pronouncing his name, he just gave up and told me to call him Merry.

"Merry," I repeated for the second time, and he nodded his head. Well, I feel smart. I could barely pronounce their names right. But I didn't feel too bad, because their names were the most unusual ones I'd ever heard. "So how come you kids are out here? Aren't you supposed to be in school?" I only said this so that I wouldn't have to have that awkward silence. It always comes after you introduce yourself to someone who doesn't really care. You both never know what to say.

Merry cleared his throat, giving me a little grin. "Now, that may be some wee thing we need to straighten up. We are not children, as you believe us to be. We're hobbits."

"Hobbits?"

"Yes," he said, nodding his head amiably, "hobbits."

He looked perfectly okay with the idea that he just called himself a hobbit, whatever that was. Which, to tell the truth, I had not the slightest idea. Are you sure you didn't hit your head too? Ok, Dwarf, I can believe that. I mean, that's not uncommon. But an Elf? And hobbits? Anything as made up as that word is really offensive. What did they think, that I was born yesterday? "Yeah, whatever buddy. But I'm not that dense. I'm not that gullible."

"Pardon?" he asked, frowning in confusion. I couldn't believe it. He really didn't realize what he was saying.

"And I don't appreciate the elf joke. That insults my intelligence. Really."

"I am not joking."

I sighed, smiling a tight smile that showed I had only a little patience left. "It was funny while it lasted, but not anymore. Just drop it, will you?" An elf. Good grief. I rolled my eyes, my gaze falling onto Legolas, who was now leaning casually against another tree and looking at me as though I was some kind of medical experiment. There was silence. I hated silence; it was so empty, and lonesome. I hated being lonely. I needed to talk, so it wouldn't be so quiet. "So, how long a walk will it be to reach that town? A half hour? Forty-five minutes?"

Aragorn picked up a sort of packed bag and strode back to where I was sitting. "I am afraid that will take at least a day or two," he said, sighing and kneeling down next to me. Before I could figure out what he was doing, he had shoved my pant leg up to my knee, and was gently unlacing my boot.

"What the- What the hell are you doing?" I hissed, thrusting my leg away from him and to my left. I really didn't like people touching me, especially my feet. I didn't know why; people touching my feet just bothered me. People touching any part of me bothered me, really. I don't know what it was. I remember once my fourth grade teacher put her hand on my shoulder, and I all but freaked out. No, actually, I did freak out. She was really concerned, and asked me all these questions about home and my mom, but I just assured her that I didn't like people to touch me. Then she asked the oddest thing. What was I going to do when I got married, she asked. I didn't know how to answer that, but when I thought about it later, I got kind of insulted and disgusted. I guess if I just wasn't the touching kind, then I wasn't the marrying kind either. How did I get from the subject of my foot to being married?

"I shall not hurt you. But if you leave your ankle as it is, it shall hurt. You only landed in an awkward position, so I believe you will be able to walk." He started untying the leather straps on his pack carefully. I guessed that was his first aide kit.

"So?" I asked, completely peeved. "I can walk now. You don't need to be touching my feet." Even though I was annoyed, I was really glad that I would be able to walk and that it wasn't really a sprained ankle. Worst case scenario: having to be carried by someone because my ankle hurt too much to walk on. That would've been really embarrassing.

"You can not just put your weight on it immediately without some care," he said, his voice expressing amusement, as if this was obvious. "Legolas and I will need to make a brace. You needn't use it for more than two or three days, and then you may only need to wrap it." As he said this, Legolas kneeled down on the other side of me, holding two carefully cut, small pieces of wood in his hands. Aragorn had extracted some kind of long and thin cloth out of the bag.

I couldn't think of a good excuse to make him leave it alone, so I just said, "Okay, fine. You can do it." I actually felt myself start to sweat. I was letting down my guard. If either of them decided to whip out one of their knives, I was done for. Aside from this, I was really hoping I wouldn't laugh too much if they actually touched my foot instead of my ankle. I hated to admit it, but I was really ticklish on my feet and stomach. And there was also the fact that I hadn't washed my feet since the day before. Ah, please don't let my feet smell too much. I felt my face redden when my boot was removed. If they smelled anything, nothing was said.

"Would you like someone to hold your hand?" Aragorn's voice broke apart my ridiculous thoughts. I looked at him in disbelief, amazed that he actually voiced the question.

"No," I said, my voice taking on a "valley girl" twang, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. You'd think they would've got it by now. You know, that I don't like to be touched. God, I feel like they're my doctors. I'd always hated going to the doctor's office and the nurse in school. I used to go to the nurse's office when I was little when I didn't feel well. I remember the nurse was this kind of overweight woman (I think I called her a beast in sixth grade), and she'd always feel all over my face and I'd always wonder why she needed to do that if I had a thermometer in my mouth.

But as embarrassed as I was, when I felt the pressure on my ankle, it felt really good. I knew it was swollen, because before he had begun to wrap it, I had seen my ankle. It had been really red and just a little swollen, but swollen none the less.

"Have you any other injuries?" Legolas asked as he finished wrapping it. Then he quickly began to carefully put my boot back on, tying the laces very loosely. I was very glad my boots had such large spaces for my ankles. Boys' shoes were much cheaper and more comfortable than girls'.

"I hit my head a couple of times, but it's not bleeding or anything," I said. I knew there was nothing you could do for a couple of bruises, so I thought it was safe enough to say. Legolas motioned for me to try to stand, and held out his hand to help me, but I purposely avoided it and got up by myself. I carefully put my weight on both of my feet, and was relieved that I only felt slight pressure.

"Strider!" The urgent call of Frodo's voice sliced through the air, and I jumped a little. He said something else, and I thought it sounded something like 'ores' or something like that, but I wasn't sure. Aragorn looked towards him quickly, then looked into the woods. I frowned, looking towards the hobbit. He was holding a blade in the air for everyone to see. I normally would have been completely uninterested, but something about the sword was very peculiar. There seemed to be an aura of light surrounding it, making it glow slightly even in the broad daylight.

Personally, I would have thought it was pretty cool to have your sword be glowing like that. But that's just me. Obviously, Frodo didn't share my opinion, as his face was very white and he looked really nervous. Wonder if he got that from K-Mart or something. I think I remember seeing something like it there. But it actually looked as though the blue light was collecting around the knife from the outside, instead of shining through from the interior.

My thoughts were interrupted abruptly when I felt my hand being seized, and suddenly I was being pulled to my right. Gimli was telling me urgently to hurry up and follow him, but I couldn't see how I could follow him, seeing that he was practically dragging me with him. For such a short guy, he was pretty strong. He suddenly stopped abruptly, though, to catch another knife in his hand. I looked behind and to the side, and saw that Legolas had thrown him his sword. What if he hadn't caught that? I wondered, amazed that Gimli had actually grasped the handle and managed to look somewhat graceful while doing so.

He quickly thrust the hilt into my hands. "Defend yourself only when necessary. Do not confront anyone if you can help it! Go!" He gave me a hard shove away from the group, a very strong hint that he wanted me to leave.

"Where the hell am I supposed to go?" I called to his retreating back. Yet again, I was completely and totally shocked. Did they honestly expect me to run away? And why? And most importantly, where the heck was I supposed to go? I shook my head, then decided that there was absolutely no reason why I should leave. There wasn't any danger anywhere around us. I walked back to where the nine of them stood.

"Uh, guys?" I looked at them, each with some kind of weapon held loosely in their hands, watching, waiting for something to happen. Or someone to come. "What're you doing?" Just as I said this, though, Legolas said something to Aragorn. I couldn't understand it; it was in that strange, flowing language, but he said it so harshly that I frowned. What's going on?

"You cannot stay here," Aragorn said, turning towards me. "If you run north now, you will escape battle. Go and do not delay!" And his tone seemed to add, "Battle is no place for you."

"What are you talking about?" I held the sword up as if it was some kind of club. I had not the slightest idea of how to hold it. So how did he expect me to defend myself? Just throw it and hope it knocks out my opponent? Because I sure as hell wasn't going to stab anyone. I would probably mess up doing it too, if I had to resort to that, because I have the most aweful aim. I couldn't throw a good punch until I was in seventh grade. I failed horribly at any sport that involved my throwing any object to another classmate. I could catch it, of course, but I had the worst aim.

Just as I was thinking this, though, Legolas whipped his bow up and notched his arrow in only a second or two, aimed slightly to his right, and released. I watched it streak past and in between the trees, heading out of sight smoothly and rapidly. My mouth dropped open. There was a piercing scream almost immediately afterwards, a scream of anguish, terror, and surprise. The woods seemed to echo with that scream seconds after. I had never heard such a sound as this. I had heard screams, don't get me wrong, screams full of terror and anger, but this one was somehow different. My ears seemed to react to the silence with a shrill buzz. But the silence was broken.

I screamed. Oh my God, he just shot somebody! I looked at him in horror. He did not look at me, though Sam and Merry both looked at me as though I had lost my mind. There was a light clank; my borrowed sword lay on the ground, my shaking hands up by my mouth. Aragorn was yelling something, and I didn't notice until about thirty seconds later that he was yelling at me, commanding me to run and hide.

"They are upon us," Boromir said, his voice loud and heavy. But just as it sounded burdened and saddened, it also held anger.

"Oh my God!" I shrieked, and I dashed off in the direction of the scream. Would the person be alright? Was he or she hurt really badly? I heard someone scream, "Oh my God!" again, and realized that I was repeating the phrase over and over.

But I hadn't gotten more than a couple feet when I was grabbed from behind. Sam was trying desperately to keep me from darting into the trees, telling me that "they" would kill me. I flailed about and twisted until I was free, panting and trying to calm my erratic breathing. Sam was on the ground; I had punched hard him in the stomach. "You just killed someone, you bastard!" I screamed at Legolas, while I took a step in my original direction. And you don't even care, I finished in my head. But I stopped short when I saw something sprawled on the ground in front of me.

I opened my mouth to ask if he was alright, but I quickly closed it. My mouth kept opening and closing, but no sound was coming out. The creature had Legolas' arrow in his chest, barely able to keep his head up. There was a trail of dark, foul smelling blood, showing that he had dragged himself on the ground to face his opponents. It was black, with no hint of red. I pulled my shaking hands up to my mouth, but they didn't lessen my scream.

I had absolutely in no part of my life seen anything like that thing sprawled in front of me. Its black teeth were sneering not at me, but at Frodo, with a hatred that I would never understand. This was somewhat lucky, though, because had it been looking me in the eyes, I would probably have fainted. Its eyes were small slits, with very dark red rims, as if it had not slept or eaten properly in a week. And its dark skin was charred, as if burned with a flame, with dry cracks in view. Its unrefined clothes consisted of layers of crude material and a layer of armor. I gagged when I saw its blood-encrusted weapons, not wanting at all to know where all of that brown crust had come from. It growled in a low gutteral voice, speaking in yet another language that I didn't know. But unlike the other language, I knew I had never heard that tongue in my life. I had seen people beaten up, I had seen people stabbed with wooden stakes, knives, and even a kitchen fork once. This was the kind of neighborhood that I had grown up in. But I had never seen something so hideous as this creature before me.

It screamed as a long knife was driven into its flesh, through the center of its back. Aragorn quickly wrenched his blade out of the dead creature's torso. I screamed, this time not because the creature was dead and that Aragorn had just murdered it, but for the sheer sake of the amount of blood and brutality, and also for the fact that had it been given a chance, the creature would have killed all of us in a New York minute.

There was a great thundering scream, and I realized that while I had been frozen in my position of horror, there had been a gradually increasing sound of heavy, pounding feet. And now that my trance was broken, the sound seemed louder than an explosion. Twenty or so of the same breed as the dead being on the ground burst through the trees, baring their teeth and bearing the same crude weapons.

And as I was standing in my place, dumbfounded, the others rushed forward to meet their obvious enemies, save for Legolas, who shot arrow after arrow so quickly that I could barely watch them land in their targets before another was shot. And I was suddenly very afraid. I was in the midst of a bloody spat, a perfect target because I was standing very still, and I very much doubted that I would get out of this without having to face one of the creatures with the knife. The knife! Shit! my mind screamed, and I quickly turned around to look for the glittering whiteness of it. I finally found it, after what seemed like hours. This was a good thing, but it also happened to be lying underneath one of the dead, or (I hoped not) almost dead, creatures.

I quickly ran over to it, very luckily not encountering anyone. I grasped the handle and tugged as hard as I could, feeling very paranoid. As soon as it was free, I whipped around in a circle, looking for any danger near me. Many of the creatures were dead already. I desperately hoped that they would be finished off soon. I knew this was horrible, because that would mean that the nine people would be doing all the work for me, but I was so afraid that I was ready to faint just from fear.

Suddenly, I sensed movement behind me. I whipped around, and discovered with a start that the creature that I had thought to be dead on top of the sword was, indeed, alive. I figured it had probably only been unconscious for a few minutes. I gave a short shriek as I realized that the brute was standing and aiming the hilt of its sword for my head. I leapt out of the way as fast as I could, but I didn't anticipate its next move quick enough. I was walloped directly in the side of my forehead, and I felt my head snap back violently. It hit at an angle, though, so I knew that it would not do any perminant damage. But I fell to the ground anyway, feeling tears spurt out of my eyes involuntarily. I twisted my body so that I wouldn't dislocate my shoulder, breaking the fall with two hands instead of one, but my elbows quickly gave way. I fell forward, my chin hitting the ground, causing me to snap my teeth down onto my lip, and I felt it slit open with a warm, tingling sensation afterwards.

I wanted to stay where I was, with my lip bleeding, and my head aching tremendously, but I knew I'd get killed. Or badly injured. I quickly rolled a full revolution to my right, which was lucky, because just a split second later the creature's downward-angled knife was plunged into the soft soil beside me. I quickly swung myself up off the ground, ready to plunge my weapon into whatever piece of flesh was closest to me, but just was I stood on my own two feet, the creature's eyes glassed over horrifically.

There was suddenly silence, and I heard the crude metal of the sword clank on the ground loudly. Only a second later, the creature's form was limp and it dumbled to the ground. This was a great relief, but it sort of fell on top of me. I screamed with fear and complete disgust as I was pushed to the ground, the body laying on top of me, an arrow embedded deep into its back.

I vaguely remember feeling the weight lifted off of me, because it was done very quickly. But I was having a hard time breathing, and my head was hurting atrociously. There was one form looming overhead of me, one faraway black silhouette, with a strong, yet faraway voice. And then there were two, three, four, five, but then there were none.

I groaned, and tried to roll over, but two hands were immediately holding me in place. I was aware that I was gaining consciousness, and I quickly ceased my movements. My surroundings were becoming more and more evident through my senses, which were slowly beginning to function properly. I was outside, I most definitely was not alone, and I was hurt.

I whimpered, something I don't usually do, and opened my eyes slowly. Aragorn was kneeling next to me, as were Sam and Legolas. I could hear quiet conversation in the surrounding background, so I knew that the others were very close by.

"Tylenol," I moaned, "I need Tylenol, Aspirin, Motrin, whatever you have." Just give me some drugs…. I put my hand up to my head, and my eyes snapped open when I felt a piece of cloth lying on my forehead, the center sticky, damp, and warm. Aragorn grasped my wrist firmly, not allowing me to touch the spot anymore.

"Hush," he said in a voice that I guessed was soothing for him. He was frowning, as if in confusion. "You shall feel well in a while." I watched him reach behind himself and extract two pieces of food. It looked like a piece of dried fruit and another piece of dried meat. I took it without so much of a peep of protest, because I was so hungry I could've eaten a cow.

"What the hell where those things?" I demanded, my fingers itching to feel my neck. I knew I had thrown it back after the hilt of the creature's sword had struck my head, and I had probably strained some of the muscles. Right now it just felt kind of numb, but I knew it wasn't. I probably couldn't feel it because I hadn't moved yet. I was not looking forward to testing it out.

"What were what things?" Merry asked, shifting so that he wasn't sitting on his feet anymore.

"Those-" I stopped, trying to remember what Frodo had said when his sword had begun to glow. "Ores? What were they called? Ores? Oaries? Ovaries? Fours?"

"Orcs," Gimli said, and his voice held contempt and anger.

I squinted my eyes. "Orcs?" I had never heard of anything being called such a name before. There wasn't even a slang word that related closely to it. "You people are really starting to scare me. There's no damn thing as an orc. I'm 19 years old, and I have seen a lot of stuff, but I have never in my life seen anything like that." I took a shaky breath, trying to suppress my nervousness. I couldn't remember the last time I had been so spooked. I just didn't get afraid of people that much anymore, because I figured that anyone who came my way could be defeated. I was the one who usually locked the doors at night. I was the one who had to hide in the closet when my mom wasn't home to make it look as though no one was home when someone did break in. I was the one who had to deal with my mom. I had seen what people were capable of doing, but I had also found out what I was cabable of. But those monsters were just… different.

"You have been protected then," Boromir said, joining us. I guessed that he had meant that I had been sheltered. This was, of course, ironic. I had to be the most unsheltered girl in the entire world. I couldn't remember a time when I didn't have to look out for myself. There was never anyone else there to look out for the both of us. I was always the one looking after myself and another. If there was another present, which wasn't very often.

"Protected? You've got no idea what my life is like. I'm the protector." I didn't know how corny this sounded until I'd said it. I felt myself redden a little. "I mean, I protect myself. Those things looked like some kid's picture of a big, scary monster. And why did they just attack you like that?"

Boromir gazed at me thoughtfully. His face had a few minor scratches on his face, but he looked as though he thought nothing of them. "They are orcs," he simply said, "and that is how they behave."

Okay, how does that answer my question? I always hated when people dodged my questions. It either means that they don't know the answer, or they don't want to corrupt my dainty virgin ears. So they speak in little riddles so they think they sound intelligent enough to actually know the answer. "But what is an orc? Because I've never heard anything like it."

"Do you mean to tell us that you have absolutely no idea, or are you trying to lie again?" Merry asked. I could tell he was nervous about asking this.

Under different circumstances, I would have become very angry, but I did, after all, lie to them once, so it would seem possible that I would lie again. So I didn't hold it against him. Well, at least he finally got what I was trying to say this whole time, I thought. "Dude, I seriously have no idea. I mean, you don't have to explain what they are anymore, because, believe me, I got a good view. Not to mention a good sniff too, but let's not get into that. I'm just saying that I've never seen anything like it."

"Mayhap that is well," Legolas said. "Let us hope that you never see any more orcs."

Mayhap? Oh, this guy just cracks me up. And he's hot, too. But way too weird. Ah. This wasn't the first time I had noticed how attractive he was. It was a good thing I was lying down; it wasn't possible for me to drool and make a complete fool of myself. "So," I said briskly, sitting up. I regretted this just a little, because I felt a little light-headed. But whatever medicine they had used on my forehead was dulling the pain very effectively. "Let's get going to that… um, village." I felt funny saying it.

"Are you feeling well enough to travel, Lady?" Aragorn asked, offering his hand in asistance. I stared at him hard. Maybe if I looked at him long enough with that expression of disgust he would quit fooling around. "Lady?" he asked. I was trying very hard by now to control my emotions, which were not quite in check. Eventually, I had to say something.

"What is going on? Will all of you stop horsing around? I can't stand it anymore, it's giving me the biggest pain in the ass. So will you just do my a favor and save your sick elf jokes and all that crap for someone else?" I knew I could've said it much more politely, but I was so fed up that I hadn't thought enough to think before I spoke, and then it all just poured out of my mouth. I admit, the jokes weren't too bad. I mean, they were obviously fooling around, but Aragorn had just pulled the last straw. Lady? First off, I'm not even a Lady. I'm not fit to even be near a real 'Lady'. And who talks like that anyway? Who calls someone 'Lady'? Good grief.

"Horsing around? What is that?" Frodo asked, frowning in confusion and doubt.

"Oh my God! For the love of Pete! You people are nuts! You're driving me up a wall with all these supposed 'jokes'. And I'm not even going to answer that!" I shot to Frodo, referring to his question. "Did you people, like, live in caves or something all your lives?"

"Now, see here!" Gimli protested angrily. His hand rested on the handle of his axe. I could tell that one of my statements had really offended him. "It has been a custom of the Dwarves to live in marvelous caves-"

"Gimli," Aragorn said quietly, "do not heed ignorant insults." He turned to me, completely calm, which meant that he hadn't been affected in the least. Actually, no one save for Frodo and Gimli looked very offended, but some did look a little surprised. "What is offensive to you?"

"What's offensive? What is offensive?" I couldn't believe he had even said that to me. And he looked completely calm and collected about it, too. "You people are driving me nuts! You dress weird. And you talk like psychopaths who think they're from the medieval age! No one on Earth can be that weird, and I am telling you to stop right now, because I'm going crazy!" I said this all in one big, long breath, and I panted a little bit to get my breath back. There was a moment of complete silence, save for the sounds of the forest. I wanted to add that my insult wasn't ignorant, I actually kind of thought it was straight on, but I didn't think that would make the situation any better, so I kept my mouth shut for once.

Pippin opened his mouth, then obviously decided against it. But a moment later, he opened it again, saying timidly, "You meant Middle-earth?" He said it as though I had made a grammatical mistake while I was talking.

I stared at him, sort of glaring with my lips cracked open slightly and shaking my head in disbelief. "No, I did not mean Middle-earth. What the hell is Middle-earth? Are you on the same level as me? This is what I'm talking about. You people say weird things, and I'm going up a wall." I was standing suddenly. I didn't remember getting up off the ground. Everyone else stood, too, as if I was the strange one.

"Then what is your meaning by just Earth? You do not say Middle-earth?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and looking up at me.

"No," I insisted, "I don't say Middle-earth. We're on Earth, not Middle-earth. What do you call the rest of the world, then? East Earth? West Earth?"

"We are in Middle-earth," Pippin persisted. "We do not call the land 'Earth'. It's correct name is Middle-earth or Arda."

"No, it's not," I argued, stomping my foot. Now, I don't usually do stupid, sissy things like stomping my foot all the time. But under these circumstances, I wanted to fling myself up against the tree trunk to prove my point. Unfortunately, being the absolute genious that I am, I slammed my bad foot down. Pain shot up from my ankle all the way into my knee, and I cursed loudly, bending over to seize it.

"Lady," Aragorn said calmly, addressing me. He opened his mouth to continue, but I cut him off for a moment.

"If you call me Lady one more time, I swear I'll take your sword and shove it up your ass." I wasn't sure why I was so incredibly mouthy all of a sudden. I hadn't given them any warning, so I guess I shouldn't have said that so harshly. I really should've given them warning about my temper, like some foreshadowing or something.

I watched as his eyebrows raised in surprise. He didn't look afraid, or offended, but he did look surprised. "Very well," he said, "what would you like to be called?"

"Lalaine's fine." My voice sounded sort of artificial. I cleared my throat.

He nodded slowly. "Lalaine, you are wasting your time in arguing about the name of this land. It is called Middle-earth, or Arda, and there shall be no more argument. As for our supposed joking, we are doing no such thing. You have just viewed battle, something that young women such as yourself do not often see by chance. You are feeling overwhelmed, you must try to stay calm."

I must admit that he was right; I might have been going through some sort of shock from seeing that 'battle', as he called it. But it wasn't that big a deal to me. I mean, sure, I was scared enough to pee in my pants, and I admit that I'd never been in a real battle like that before. But I had seen blood spilled, and heard screams, though not as ferocious, and felt pain, though not always as intense. So, sure, I guess I could have been in some shock, but my opinion of their sanity wasn't effected by it in the least.

"Look, I know I'm no great warrior, and I can't fight worth crap, but I've seen my share of violence. So don't pull that 'women shouldn't see that much blood and guts or they'll faint' crap." Of all things, I was really into women's rights. I couldn't stand it when women were treated differently. Sure, sometimes it was in our favor, like the idea of protecting us from being killed, but sometimes things like that just drive me nuts. When guys try to act all tough around girls, just to show that they're strong and masculine, that just makes me want to whack my head against a tree. It's all just a show, and it comes from the 'fact' that women are not as tough as men.

"I did not say that," he said firmly. "I have no doubts about your strength, nor any other female's. I am saying that one so young does not usually encounter such things. Children should not be exposed to battle."

"Are you calling me a child?" That was another thing I hated. I looked younger than I really was, mostly because of my clothes, and also because I didn't really try to make myself look very feminine. So a lot of people thought I was about two years younger than my 19 years.

Aragorn smiled knowingly, and I almost felt embarrassed. I admit, I can be very impulsive sometimes. "You twist my words. I did not call you a child. Come, let us cease to argue. Your shirt is not in the best condition. Go with Legolas. He will lead you to the nearest water source." He nodded, and I immediately glanced down at my shirt. It was covered in a dried, sticky substance, and I had a slight suspicion that it was that black, orc blood. I was thankful that it wasn't my blood, of course, because that would not have been at all better. But I was disgusted none the less. I figured it was the blood of the orc that had fallen over on top of me when it had been killed by the arrow.

I suddenly felt sick. My stomach felt as though it was bubbling inside of me, as if its contents were boiling. Blood didn't bother me all that much. But human blood was red, and this… stuff was dark black, like some sort of infected stomach bile. But I forced myself to keep my food inside of me. I really hated throwing up. Usually the very feeling of being sick made me retch even more.

"Come," Legolas said, motioning for me to follow him. All of his movements were very subtle, so I guessed that the slight tilt of his head meant that he was motioning.

"Why isn't anyone else coming?" I asked, stepping through the trees and out of sight of the group. Am I the only one who managed to get guts all over me? I was suddenly sorry I had asked. It was the dumbest thing I'd said all day. Well, maybe not the dumbest. Come to think of it, I'd said a lot of dumb things. I mumbled a quiet "never mind". I said it really quietly, so I didn't think he would've heard it. So I was prepared to say it again, but before I opened my mouth, he turned and gave me a reassuring curve of his lips.

How the heck did he here that? And how the heck is he going to know where a dinky little stream is? I figured maybe if it was big enough, I'd be able to hear the water running over the rapids, but no matter how hard I listened, I couldn't hear any running water. I looked at his back. Suddenly, I wasn't all for going to the stream. I mean, I really did want to clean up a lot, but the group offered at least some form of safety.

He's got a pack of arrows. Who carries a pack of arrows around with them? A quiver! That's what it's called. A quiver of arrows. Who does that? From where I was walking, I could see that the quiver was made of a dark, stiff leather, carved intricately. His bow was carved with elaborate designs also. 'That which is beautiful can be deadly', I quoted inside my head. I really wished I still had that white knife I had borrowed. But it was tucked back into the sheath tied around his waist with a leather strap.

I walked behind him, very suspicious, but mostly anxious and nervous. I kept reassuring myself that if he attacked me, I could always use my fists and my body to kick and punch him or something. But then I kept telling myself that if he was that skilled in archery, he could probably block a punch or kick and knock me out or something, so nothing I thought about my fists would calm me. Then I tried reasoning that I could run away from him if he turned around suddenly. But I figured that he could either shoot me with one of his arrows easily, or judging by his height, he would outrun me in a second.

Either way, things were looking pretty bad for me if he decided to pull something. I really wanted to pick up a stick or something just in incase I needed something to smack him with. But I was too scared that he'd hear me and turn around.

He actually did turn around once, to look at me. But I wasn't sure why, because he could obviously hear me behind him. That was another thing weird about him. He didn't make any sound when he walked. I mean, I know you can't exactly make a total racket when there's just grass on the ground, but there were twigs and dried up leaves all over the place. I even watched him step on them. But the dried leaves didn't crunch up, and the sticks didn't snap. It was almost as if he was walking on some invisible platform that was right on top of the twigs and leaves. I tried to tell myself that there were plenty of people who could walk noiselessly very well, but nobody can be that quiet.

After about five minutes of walking, I heard the sound of running water. I could hardly hear it, because it was a bit of a slow-moving brook. I wondered if he lived near this place or something. But I distinctly remembered them saying something about traveling. Then how could he have heard that dinky little sound? That's impossible!

"How did you know where this was?" I asked as we walked down to the bank. He made absolutely no noise, so I felt as though I was making a complete ruckus.

He didn't answer me for a moment. He wasn't thinking, he was just taking his time in answering. And the strange thing is, he wasn't doing it on purpose. It was almost as if it was normal for him, like he had all the time in the world to answer questions. "I followed the sound of the water." It was just a plain simple sentence. He didn't try to elaborate it or anything.

I looked at him weird. There was absolutely no way he could've heard this little dinky stream from all the way over there. "You're funny," I said. "No, seriously." I dipped my hands in the water while I said this. It was freezing cold, but I figured it wouldn't be warm because the air was chilly. I wondered about that sudden temperature change, but I couldn't think of any explanation other than the fact that nature works in strange ways.

He took off his pack quietly and took out a soft looking shirt. He held it out to me with one hand, and I hesitantly took it from him. I wasn't sure how to act. I appreciated it, of course, but I felt a bit funny taking his shirt. I was sure I would feel funny wearing it. He nodded his head at me, as though he was reassuring me that I could take it.

The material was very soft in my hand, which was pretty rough. I couldn't place what the material was though. It felt like silk, but I definitely looked more sturdy than silk or satin. It was sort of a green or grey color, changing slightly when I moved it around. I actually felt a little excited that I would get to wear it. I didn't usually get to wear nice things that felt like silk. I don't think I'd ever worn silk or satin. I almost felt guilty for being the one to wear it, instead of him. I mean, it was his shirt. I held it out in front of me hesitantly.

"I don't know if I should wear this," I said quietly. I almost didn't feel worthy to put that clean, pure material upon my dirty and corrupted skin.

"I shall give you your privacy to put it on," Legolas said, basically insisting that I put it on. But he wasn't insisting at all. He was… commanding me. This was pretty weird; I was used to people telling me what to do, but I didn't usually listen to them, just because they had told me to do it. But I really felt like listening to him, even if it was just some measly command such as telling me to put on a shirt. And even if I had wanted to argue with him, I wouldn't have had any time, because just about five seconds later, he was gone.

I hesitated to take off my shirt and wash up for a while, but I figured that he wouldn't barge in through the trees on me. He just didn't seem like the kind of guy to do that. I threw my foul smelling t-shirt off to the side, not even bothering to try to wash it off. I didn't think I could ever wear it again, even if I was able to get all the black blood out of it, because I would remember everything too much.

I delayed washing myself with that freezing water for about a minute. But I was still kind of afraid that Legolas would come back out of the trees and I wouldn't be dressed. I dipped my arms in the water as far as I could, then started to slosh it up my arms and onto my back. I washed as well as I could around my bra, which thankfully didn't have much blood on it other than a few dots. I guess my shirt had less of the black blood on it than it looked.

I felt my hands fun over some raised bumps in my skin, but I wasn't revolted or anything. I knew they weren't bug bites or open cuts or anything. They were actually scars from when my mom was really drunk one night. She had just given herself some shot about ten minutes ago, and I guess the stuff went into her bloodstream pretty fast. She had also drinking a beer earlier, and the empty bottle was smashed up against the wall.

She was really drunk, and she kept saying she couldn't see well. She kept asking me why, and I kept telling her that she was drunk. And each time I said it, she cried even harder. She started picking up some empty bottles that were on the couch and counter, and she threw them at me. A couple of them broke and nicked my back and arms. I don't think she meant it, though. She wasn't thinking straight. She eventually passed out, but I still had to find some napkins to clean up some of the blood. There was only a little. But she hadn't known what she was doing, so I wasn't that upset about it.

Actually, I think I was more upset after that… orc thing had knocked me out and I had woken up. I guess things like that are more scary. Drunk people are pretty scary too, but I definitely think I was more scared during the attack.

I quickly finished cleaning myself up. I was really relieved to see all of that black, sticky blood wash off of my arms. That's where it was mostly, on my arms. My shirt caught most of the rest of it. I waited about thirty seconds for myself to dry, which was kind of torturous, because the water was freezing, so it made the air seem three times as cold. As soon as I thought I was somewhat dry, I quickly slipped Legolas' shirt on. I almost sighed when I felt the cool softness of the material. Again, I felt a bit guilty for allowing my tainted skin to touch something so untainted. But it felt so good to have something so soft and smooth and comfortable on that I decided that I would borrow it as long as he let me.

Once I had the shirt on, I quickly checked my pants for blood. It was amazing, but I didn't have more than a few dots on them. They were pretty dusty though, so I hit my sides with my hands to beat out the dirt. I stood where I was for a moment, wondering just what I was supposed to be doing. Should I call for him? Had he left me and gone back to the group? Or was he waiting just out of sight? I hoped he hadn't gone back to the group, seeing how I had absolutely no sense of direction, but I also kind of hoped that he wasn't right behind one of the nearest trees.

"Um, is anyone there?" I asked at last. I said it normally. I figured that if he had heard the stream from that far away, he would hear my question. If he was close enough, that is. If he hadn't just walked away.

I looked all around myself, feeling very deserted. I let myself drop to the ground on my knees. All of a sudden I felt like crying. I actually felt like a lost child, a child who wanted her mom to come out from her hiding place. And she would hug me and kiss my forehead and tell me everything would be all right from now on. And then she would take me to her pretty house and my dad would be there, and we'd all be fine. I knew I was being stupid. I knew all of these fairy tales were pretty much dead. Everyone wished some pretty woman would come and kiss them and tell them everything was okay, and then tell them that she was their real mother. Everyone wished they could be found.

"Are you ready to walk back?"

I must've jumped about a foot. I hadn't even heard him walking, and I certainly hadn't seen him. And he was right behind me. I could reach behind me and touch him. "Don't do that!" I exclaimed, breathing sort of hard. Now that was just scary. He's like a ghost. Doesn't make any noise. That's just plain weird. I mumbled that I was ready, and I got up quickly.

He lead me back to the group, acting the same as he had when he'd lead me to the stream. I was the only one making noises when I walked. Everything was the same. Except this time I wasn't so suspicious.

Author's Note: Any and all feedback will be greatly appreciated!