***Again, sorry for the delay guys. Please don't stop reviewing, I appreciate it so much - all suggestions or criticisms taken on board. Exams are pretty much over now, so I'll be updating more frequently from now on I hope. There were a few mistakes, I've sorted them now. Thanks for pointing that one out, Valin.***


It was night, the second after they had left the treetop. Aragorn had a warm, full feeling in his stomach for the first time in weeks, and he could hear Lora breathing softly and regularly nearby as he kept watch. He had finally felt they were safe enough for him to hunt, and had come across some rabbits so quickly he thought perhaps they were waiting for him. They had had a fire before it got dark, of dead fallen wood, and he had told her more about Gondor. She seemed particularly interested in what lay south of Rohan, for no reason he could fathom - he had told her of the sea, and the great ships, and the seaport of Dol Amroth, and the deadly corsairs that seldom dared to sail that far north. She had laughed, delighted by the stories, and he had delighted in telling them to such an eager listener - she had reminded him of a boy he had met, once, whom Gandalf had brought to him one day, while he was serving in Gondor. What was his name? He had loved the stories of the corsairs too, but had been more serious, a studious child, and quiet. That was long ago, Aragorn thought sleepily - and that had been the last time he was in the white city.

Lora shifted in her sleep, and he was disturbed from his train of thought. He had decided earlier that their only choice now was to make for the golden halls of the Rohirrim - he had no sword or pack now, and although he had his dagger and could make a bow and arrow if needs be, he felt uneasy. As he turned this over in his mind again, the light breeze in the leaves high above lulling him to sleep, he knew that it was the right decision. He had a responsibility for the girl now, and he had already proven that he could not protect her from what was in this forest… she shifted again, and he glanced over at her. The cloak was twisted around her, her face hidden by her dark hair.

She sat up so suddenly that he jumped and reached for his sword, forgetting it was gone, and a chill ran down his back as she stared at him emptily, her gaze unfocused. When she spoke, her voice was so toneless as to be almost unrecognisable, as void of expression as her eyes. "The grey rider seeks you among the horse tamers, son of Arathorn", she intoned slowly, and Aragorn had the strange feeling that she was reading to him words hanging in the air behind his head, but he was unable to tear his eyes from her face. "He feels the growing shadow, as do you. It is in this place already-" she broke off abruptly with a cry of fear, and this time Aragorn looked behind him, but there was nothing there. When he turned back, she was fast asleep again.

Far from sleepy now, Aragorn got up and stalked carefully around their camp. Either he was hallucinating, or she had dreamed of things she could not possibly know - he did not know which would be worse. The name of his father, and the grey rider. And the secret unease that lay seething in his mind, that he forgot sometimes only for it to return, greater than ever. The shadow of evil, that never went away… Gandalf, the grey wizard, he knew of it. If he was indeed coming, he would know what to do. The ranger settled down again finally, and sat, dagger in hand. In the morning, we will move.

* * *

After being shaken awake, Lora yawned deeply, and sighed. "the sun's not even up yet!" He didn't answer, so she pulled herself up and reluctantly began to roll up her cloak. He was striding around their camp already, kicking away the remains of yesterday's fire, and ripping the bark impatiently from a large stick. He did not even look at her.

I've changed my mind. 'Strider' suits him. Can't we stay in one place, just for a while?

She shoved her cloak into her pack, and slowly trudged after him out of the clearing, which already looked exactly as it had when they had arrived in it.

How does he do that?

"We must get to the golden halls as soon as we can", he called back at her. "Events are swiftly moving beyond my control".

"They were in your control?" Lora shot back, grinning despite herself at his stony expression. "It was a joke, Aragorn", she said, ducking a low branch. She almost walked into him before she realised he had stopped, and looked up at him, caught by the strange look on his face. "What?"

"You called me Aragorn."

Lora frowned. "Don't I normally call you that?" He wheeled around and stared at her, and she took a step backwards, unnerved by the intensity of his expression.

"You gave me the name Dain. Don't you remember?"

For a moment she was taken aback. "Oh… oh yes, but wouldn't you rather be called Aragorn? It just seems more logical, really. And it's a your name! I'm sure I was calling you that yesterday, and it's not as if…" she tailed off as he suddenly advanced on her, his face a mask, and she stumbled back against a tree. She saw no recognition in him as he stared at her.

"Aragorn, stop it. What's the matter?" Her voice broke in fright, and he stopped, breathing deeply, and the strange light faded from his face. After a pause, he looked at her apologetically. "… I'm sorry, Lora. I thought - it's nothing."

"You frightened me" she said softly, her eyes wide.

"I - I'm very sorry", he said quietly, he raised his empty hands to her, looking at a loss. Lora looked up at the ranger in surprise, and the breath caught in her chest. He seemed so sad, suddenly, that she wanted desperately to reassure him, but found herself powerless to do anything but stare into his grey eyes.

He's so alone… why didn't I notice before? Why has he felt so much pain?

He raised his hand slowly to her face, as if struggling with some unseen force upon him, and softly touched her cheek. "I would not hurt you for the world, Lora", he whispered.