*** I've been so busy recently, exams etc, but I really want to get this chapter up. I might edit it later, so please bear that in mind before massacring me :) thanks ***


Aragorn climbed swiftly and well, moving almost as lightly as an elf, despite his greater weight and size. He smiled slightly, enjoying the feel of the open air above and below him. He had been so long under the thick canopy that he had almost forgotten what the horizon looked like, and he looked at the sunrise now with satisfaction as he slowly progressed towards the lower, leafy branches, where dew would have collected. His hands were filthy where dirt clung to the sap, and he constantly had to brush his tangled, wiry hair from his face. Water… yes, water would be good. He was hungry, too, but the empty knot in his stomach was so commonplace that he no longer noticed it - she would, though. She would need food soon. And for food, they would first have to climb down. Aragorn impatiently dismissed his regret at the thought of leaving the open sky, but could not help glancing at the sunrise again briefly, and with longing. It had been so long since he'd felt its light on his face.

She was awake and lucid when he returned, and had cleaned up her scratched palms. She watched him pull himself up onto the branch again, and drank gratefully from the now half full waterskin he offered her - his last one. She looked gaunt and pale, so much so that Aragorn began to wonder about how he was to get her down, but when she spoke he was reassured. She was gazing out over the forest roof, towards the grey mist that hung low in the sky towards the north. "Dain, I was wondering - where is this forest? How far do its boundaries go, and what's beyond them?". She watched him intently, as he pointed towards the south. "The halls of the Rohirrim lie several leagues to the south of here. That is where we will go, when we have climbed down and found some food, and perhaps we can recover our packs".

She frowned slightly. "Can't we stay up here? It's nice to be able to see the sky…". He absently gazed at the blurred skyline beyond the green of the forest. "Yes, it is. But you need food, and there is none up here."

She did not answer, and he glanced at her, suddenly uneasy. She was staring stonily into the distance, her knees drawn up to her chin. Finally she said, without interest, "so what else is beyond the forest?". And, partly because he was weary of being secretive, and partly to distract her on the long climb down, he told her it all, gave her the names of Middle Earth as he had learnt them, so long ago.

When they finally reached the solid ground, the sun was high in the sky. Lora's arms and legs ached, and she had picked up a fair amount of new bruises and scratches on the way down. There had been a small triumph, though, when they reached the first layer of leafy branches - Aragorn had spotted Lora's pack hanging from a knot in the trunk. It was empty, but usable, and the waterskin in it was not slashed, although as dry as a bone. They rested briefly and drank some more, then wearily began to walk towards regions of the forest that the ranger knew were safe. "I would not leave you alone under these trees again if we were starving", he replied shortly, when Lora hesitated. She was too tired and hungry to argue. He was grim and silent again as they marched, but more careful now to pick easy paths, she noticed, and slower.

Maybe he's actually gained some consideration. I wonder what's brought that on.

Lora also had a strange suspicion that he had not drunk from the waterskin when he had tipped it to his mouth, and had left it all for her, but she dismissed this. To prevent herself from feeling her sore feet and knawing hunger, Lora repeated the beautiful, strange names again in her head as he had spoken them, and the directions, imagining that she was filling in the blank spaces on a map.

To the north, the Misty Mountains, Lothlorien and Rivendell, to the northwest of there the Shire. Beyond even there is Eriador and the Lost Kingdom of Arnor. To the Northeast, Mirkwood.

He had seemed reluctant to look that way somehow, towards the north, the grey low-lying mountains soon lost to sight behind the trees. His home was that way, the place of his birth, but he was evasive when Lora had asked him. "Lothlorien and Rivendell are the places of the oldest of the elves, and the Shire is home to the halfling folk"… Lora had heard the smile in his voice at those words, and remembered it as she drew her imagined map.

To the west, the river Isen runs to the sea. To the south, the halls of the Rohirrim, the horse tamers. The gap of Rohan leads through to Gondor, beyond which is the Sea, and the port of Dol Amroth. To the east of Gondor, Minas Tirith - the white city. And to the south, desert, broken only by the Harad Road, that runs upwards, past Ephel Duath. They are the mountains of shadow, and surround Mordor in the east of middle earth.

Beautiful names.