Why, oh, why, did I ever agree to do this? Did I maybe get smacked on the head during my journey to Middle-Earth? That would explain the headache I had when I woke up.

Remember what I said about who I used to be and who I am now? Let me expound.

So here's this girl, right? Just one simple, modern American girl with a crappy job and no money-handling skills, living from paycheck to paycheck and praying for salvation.

Boom! One morning, she wakes up in Middle-Earth, where dwells the object of many of her get-me-the-hell out of here fantasies, and is given the opportunity to involve herself in a great quest to save the world. Just what any overly-hormonal, adventure seeking girl would want.

So, yeah. That's me, basically. Well, I didn't really WANT to be here, per se, but it sure as hell beats another shift making cheeseburgers.

But that was then. That girl, I'm not her anymore. I realized I said that before, but I do tend to repeat myself, and besides, it gets truer ever day. I'm really NOT that girl anymore. The one who only learned how to ride a horse because she lost a bet, and who was so proud when her first A high school assignment was a book report.

I went through the first part of this journey because I had read the books, and seen the moves, I knew what was coming. I clung to that pseudo-knowledge because it was all I had left of my world.

But then I got involved with these great Men, these heroes, knew them as more than characters in a book or random lust objects. Hell, I would've looked at Captain Jack Sparrow the same bloody way. But here comes the kicker, right? I fell in love with one of them, really IN LOVE, and I was forced to re-evaluate my outlook on my Middle-Earthian adventure.

And I already know if I ever actually tell this tale, people will just shake their heads, say "Oh, another crazed Mary Sue after Legolas," and walk away. Hell, I wouldn't blame them if they did. I'd probably do the same thing. I might be a Mary Sue, but I wouldn't trade this adventure, frightening, dangerous, and bloody as it may be, for ANYTHING.

I no longer do this for me. It's for Frodo. For Sam. Merry and Pippin. My friends.

And my brothers, as crazy as they may be.

111

The royalty of our little group and our reunited Fellowship rides at the head of the column, Aragorn in the lead, naturally. He is THE KING.

Every time somebody says that, I have a horrible urge to do a bad Elvis impersonation, or burst into song. 'Henry the Eighth.' You know, "Henry the Eighth, I am, I am. Henry the Eighth I am'? That one.

And we also have Eomer, Eowyn (against Faramir's strenuous objections), Boromir, Faramir (over Boromir's strenuous objections), Legolas and Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Hal, the twins, Gandalf, and me. Why I'm up here in this esteemed company and not back with the rest of the peons is sort of beyond me, but Boromir and Legolas insisted. Aragorn doesn't give a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut where I ride, as long as I'm quiet.

Trust me, he said so. Loudly. Over everybody else. Well, he said he didn't give a damn, but, same diff.

Next to me, Hal rolls his shoulders and adjusts his quiver-strap for the billionth time. Boromir rearranges his shield and nearly brains Pippin. Gimli complains about Legolas's knives poking him. Merry munches an apple. Loudly. And yes, the Hobbits really did bring food. Faramir and Eowyn continue to glare at each other. Gandalf fiddles with his sword belt. Legolas keeps fiddling with the buckle on his quiver strap. The twins are completely silent, eyes open and glazed. Jesus, I think they're asleep. Eomer glares at the top of Merry's head as the Hobbit continues to chew as loudly as he possibly can.

Nervous twitches are fun to watch. Hee.

I shift my hands on the reins and roll my own shoulders. Up ahead, the Black Gate looms. I think this is what they had in mind when they invented the word 'ominous.' I think I finally realize what Gimli had in mind when he mutters about 'suicide' and 'bloody crazy human kings' under his breath.

Ye Gods, are we actually gonna charge on that damn thing?

Aragorn pulls Brego to walk and holds up a hand to halt the column. Oh, fuck, why did I wanna do this?

Legolas leans toward me. "Peace, Kayli."

"You be fucking peaceful."

He laughs quietly. "I'll let you know when I acheive it."

Gimli makes a rude noise. "Bloody Elves, always telling people to be peaceful when they can't get there them damn selves. Hypocritical, nancing bastards."

That actually makes me laugh.

Hal leans over. "Are they ALWAYS like this?"

"No."

"Thank Eru."

"Usually they're worse."

He shakes his head. "How have you all managed not to kill them?"

"Entertainment value."

We all gather around Aragorn, who's just sitting there, gazing at the Black Gate. "Where are they?" Merry asks.

Hmm. All in all, a good question. I really don't wanna know the answer, though.

Aragorn heads toward the Gate, and the rest of us follow. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" he hollers. "Let justice be done upon him!"

A few very, very tense moments later, the Gate begins to creak open. Aragorn looks satisified. We turn and charge back towards the army.

"Hold your ground! Hold your ground! Sons of Gondor, of Rohan! My brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me!" He rides back and forth in front of us, his sword in his hand, a strange light in his eyes, and I suddenly realize...THIS is the King. Not just the King of Gondor, but MY King. Hoo boy.

"A day may come when the courage of men fail, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down. But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth. I bid you stand, Men of the West!"

All in all, not a bad little speech. As one, the Men, Elves, Hobbits and Dwarf hold up some kind of weapon. We all look tensely towards the Gate.

"Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an Elf," Gimli mutters.

Legolas turns to him and smiles. "How about side by side with a friend?"

The Dwarf is quiet for a second, then he nods. "Aye. Aye, I could do that."

I draw a second knife and grip the hilts so hard my knuckles go white. Legolas lightly touches my face. I look at him, suddenly very calm. "Be careful."

I nod slowly and let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Yeah, you too."

Aragorn turns slowly to us, and nods once. "For Frodo," he says, and charges.

The Hobbits are the first after him. Then the rest of us follow.

Here it goes.

TBC...