Hooray, it's chapter three! Thanks to all you folks who have reviewed. I'm quite pleased with the reaction - I honestly thought people wouldn't like this story, considering its a wee bit AU.

Perhaps I'm attracted to irrationally stubborn individuals. Besides my misguided choice in a horse – any sensible traveler would have sent Goldwine to the knackers years ago – I'd also landed myself with an unbelievably obstinate father. Try as I might, I could not dissuade the old fellow from tagging along with me for the rest of my journey. This was bound to become problematic, seeing as the keys to surviving the passage into Eriador were secrecy and skill in defending one's self. While Sador would surely do his best, I doubted whether his swordsmanship would benefit from the recent amputation of his arm. He pointed out, however, that he wouldn't likely be much safer in Minas Tirith, a statement with which I had to agree, albeit reluctantly. It seemed my work would begin a good deal sooner than I'd thought.

If Goldwine traveled badly on solo journeys, it was nothing compared to his attitude when forced into close and constant company with another horse. Never mind that Father's mount was a mare – Goldwine had been gelded very early in life, poor thing, and so took no interest in potentially amorous liaisons. Instead he would pin his ears back and aim kicks and bites at his hapless companion, who was too sweet and simple-minded to retaliate. In the end, Sador had to ride quite a ways in front of us, relying on Goldwine's laziness to prevent the gelding from catching up to him.

I suppose I ought to provide some details regarding our journey through Anórien, and then through the East- and Westfold of Rohan, though this segment of the trip was mercifully uneventful. We kept a good pace, riding during the day and camping at night, and though I had to be extra vigilant on his behalf, I appreciated my father's company. He knew this region of the world relatively well, as he'd traveled widely when he was younger and when doing so was less of a risk.

"I've never been beyond the Gap of Rohan, though," he admitted to me one evening, as I cooked our supper over a small fire.

"Really?" I said, though this was well known to me. I didn't mind letting Father retell his stories.

"Yes." He lay back in the grass. "The farthest West I've ever been is to where you were born... That was only a month or so after Urwen died – my wife, I mean. She who would have been your mother..."

I waited patiently through the pause, sneaking a finger into the pot for a taste of the soup I was making – and then withdrawing it quickly when I was burned.

"It was a fever, you know – she did outlive the child." He sighed wistfully as I sucked on my finger and resisted the urge to curse loudly. "The poor boy... I would have done well with a son... but I don't blame him for her death. All babes are innocent."

"I doubt," I said carefully, "whether you would have been out traveling if she'd lived. You'd never have found me. I'd have died."

"That's probably true," Sador said, and sighed. He didn't speak for the rest of the evening, and went to sleep early. Thank Eru for that – I could only smoke while he slept.

The Gap of Rohan wasn't always so dangerous, nor the crossing of the Fords of Isen so treacherous, as they were in those days. The only rational choice was to ford the river during the day – if orcs were about, they would be in hiding – but we would attract a great deal of attention to ourselves. I assumed, as one did in those days, that the darkness of Mordor did not extend to the Gap, as this was guarded by the wise wizard Saruman who watched from the mighty Tower of Orthanc. For all my travels, there were still many things I didn't understand about my world – particularly those things involving beings as enigmatic and complex as wizards.

The attack came swiftly and unexpectedly, the evening after we'd forded the Isen. In the dark it was difficult to number the orcs, but I suspect that there weren't more than a dozen. Still, Sador and I were outnumbered. I realize now that we were lucky Saruman hadn't by that point perfected his experimental manipulations of the orcs, as this would have meant we'd have encountered the far more fearsome uruk-hai rather than these snarling creatures. I do not doubt, however, that these were servants of Saruman – a thought which did not occur to me at the time.

Goldwine was not unacquainted with orcs. He became a tiger in the face of our attackers, snorting and thrashing and charging in fury at the creatures that had burst from the forest alongside the path. Had they shot at us from amongst the trees, we might have been dead – as it was, they made the mistake of underestimating my horse.

Goldwine trampled two of them for me, and in the rush I was able to ignore that most disturbing sound of snapping bones. I dropped the reins immediately – they were kept knotted for just such an occasion – and drew my sword. The weapon was indeed poorly made and incapable of holding an edge, and so I tended to use it more as a bludgeon than a blade. The orc who made the unfortunate decision of grabbing my leg met his fate quickly and noisily, his skull crushed on impact as I hammered him with the weapon.

I killed two others in the madness – one stabbed through the face; the other was bashed across the ear – before the survivors made off into the woods. Only after calming Goldwine did I take note of the rather nasty cut across my right forearm – it would have to be cleaned, perhaps stitched as well. Sador was having his own troubles; his dear mare had been thoroughly spooked by the attack, her eyes rolling wildly as she danced frantically up and down the trail.

"Come on – before they come back," I panted, nodding in the direction I intended us to take. Sador nodded, though his face was white with shock. Goldwine retained enough of his battle-fierceness to grant me a gallop, and Father's mare followed him willingly, seeing the other member of her species as her best hope for protection. We thundered down the trail as fast as our mounts would allow, riding on well into the night, and only stopping for breath when the trail turned northward.

"We ought to be safe here," I told my father. "A bit of sleep, and an early start tomorrow – that's what'll best serve us now. I'll watch for a bit, just in case they were following, though I doubt they'll make it this far before morning."

Sador was restless and pale from the encounter.

"Never thought we'd make it this far from Mordor, only to be attacked," he muttered. "No road is safe anymore."

"We're alright," I said, patting his shoulder. "These times will come and go, like all others before them."

He sighed. "I'm sorry you had to kill," he said. "How many was it – three? So you'll be fasting now, I suppose."

"Yes, for three days."

Sador frowned. "I thought it was only half a day for an orc. Half a day for an orc, a whole day for a man."

"No, not anymore," I said wearily. "The matron had that rule altered, and rightfully so. All life is equal."

"Bah," Sador scoffed, and spit in the grass. I was inclined to agree with him to some extent – though perhaps, philosophically, there was no difference between an orc's life and a man's life, no one who had fought them both would consider the experiences at all similar.

"Well, that's the way of us," I said lightly. "Non-violence in a sense, I suppose – more of a reactive policy than a proactive one, if you ask me. We see killing as excusable, so long as we pay for it afterwards."

"It's inevitable that you should have to defend yourself," Sador said. "This is not just. You need sustenance. Come on, then, eat – no one will know."

"No?" I dug a twisted twine necklace out from beneath my shirt and held it away from my neck so that Father could see. "They won't notice if I come home with this thing broken?"

Sador snorted. "That's nothing but superstition. It won't break if you have a bite of bread."

"I don't know," I said, burying the necklace in my shirt once more. "There was a girl who broke her vows once, when I was younger – silly young thing. She slept with one of the men she was escorting, and came home terrified, with her cord inexplicably broken."

"Inexplicably? I doubt it. She probably tugged at it too much, being nervous. Or perhaps it was torn during the act itself," he suggested wryly.

"Well, I'm not going to play the part of a mystic. I don't know what happened exactly, but that girl is Elignias no more. As for me, I'd rather not lose my job over a snack," I said.

Sador shook his head, then rolled out his blanket and went to sleep. I cursed silently to myself. It was most inconvenient to have to go so long without eating, especially when we might be attacked again at any moment. If present circumstances were any indication, I'd be killing and fasting more often than ever. I sighed and stuffed my pipe. At least I had an activity that would keep my mouth occupied.

I glanced up at the sky. Clouds blew about, here and there, but many stars managed to shine between them. I wondered, what is it that that silly girl found in a man that was worth giving up her way of life for? I couldn't understand it. Certainly I'd met attractive men before, and on wilderness journeys a month or more in length, almost all fellows eventually realize I'm female. I'd always been able to say "no", though. It wasn't any more difficult for me than saying "no" to a meal after having killed an orc – perhaps less so, even.

I sighed and blew a rather wispy smoke ring into the night. I guess some people just have the wrong priorities.