A/N: I have to say, reviewers, that you guys absoloutely rule and that I love you all. Sorry for taking so long- the evils of school are starting to effect me. But I'm back, and with a vengence! Manwathiel, thank you for giving me a kick in the butt and getting me going!

A question to you all: would you like language translations? I wasn't sure if it was pointless, but Tempestgirl (who, btw, seems very like me) commented on it, and I want your vote. Tell me in your review, or email me at elfladyofmirkwood at hotmail dot com.

Chapter Seven: On the Road Again

I watched Lytling giggle through a mouthful of gruel, her newest and most amusing food source. She was staring at the gathering peoples before us, watching with wide blue eyes totally devoid of bias or cynicism, just a simple curiosity and open delight in the world.

For not the first time, I wondered what her thoughts were at that moment, if they were really any different from an adult's. I wished that I could remember what it was like to be a baby, what thoughts were contained in their newly-formed minds. What did she see as she looked out at the scene before us?

What I saw was Edoras slowly draining itself of all people, occasionally with the encouragement of a Rohirric soldier. Already the nobles were outside the walls, all mounted and dressed in fine clothing. Only Éowyn was down among her people, helping. The King was given a wide berth by all and the rest of the nobles resident in Edoras were too busy tending to their own needs.

"Alysandra?" A little voice sounded from my elbow. I looked down to see Regen, the little girl from the West Fold. She had clung to myself and her brother since after Theoden's decision to leave Edoras. She was bewildered by all the activity of the Edoras folk, and was looking worriedly up at me.

"Hwier is Modor?" Where is Mother? She repeated this question, as she had since I had known her. It was a constant mantra for her, revealing how vital her mother was in her life.

"Heo is gemot Helm's Deep," I assured her softly, telling her that her mother would most likely meet us at the great stronghold.

She smiled trustingly up at me, and I felt a twinge of guilt for lying.

"Regen! We sculan afaran!" Her brother's tired voice interrupted our small moment. We must leave!

"May I join you? " I asked in halting rohirric. Regen nodded gratefully , taking my hand and dragging me down to where her brother waited, and then on to the gates.

The boy chattered constantly to his sister as we passed under the gates and out into the fields with a large crowd of people. I could not understand a word he said, but his voice told it all- he was desperately trying to swallow his nervousness at leaving Edoras. I, too, was nervous- Edoras seemed like a small sanctuary midst the hellish battlefield that had been my constant companion since entering Rohan, and I was loathe to leave it. Especially for the battle that lay ahead.

I knew the story, I knew how it would turn out. I mean, wasn't I one of the most obsessive Tolkien fans anyone had ever known? So why was I afraid?

The truth of the matter was, I knew not whether this was bookverse, movieverse, or some odd combination. I worried that my entrance into this world had thrown off the canon somehow. I promised myself to tread lightly in this world, for fear of dying.

But was it already too late?

The purple twilight reigned over the fields, unbroken by any firelight. Fires were banned- the soldiers were nervous enough as it were. No point in drawing attention to ourselves. The whole land was quiet, and we had met not a soul since leaving Edoras. It was enough to drive me insane.

"Uuuuh!" I softly screamed into the cloak I was using as a pillow.

Regen's brother, Gærs, sat up from his nearby spot. "Hwã!" What?

I made a face. "I'm about to go insane from all this stillness."

He cocked his head. ""Hwã?"

"I-" I pointed to myself- " am going to go insane." I made a really grotesque face and let my eyes grow large and fill with insanity- "because of the silence." I covered my ears.

His face crinkled up for a second, and he puckered his eyebrows, thinking hard. Then, seemingly abandoning his task of translating, he mimicked my insane look, giggling.

I sighed and went back to screaming, though stopped soon enough, hoping to keep Lytling, who was cuddled against my chest, and Regen, who was pressed in the small of my back, asleep. As I watched Lytling, a soft, warm form amongst the harsh wilderness, so innocent and peaceful in her sleep, I wondered what she dreamed of and wished to dream of it, too.

"We secan findan Modor! We secan findan Mordor! We secan findan Mordor! We secan findan Mordor! We secan findan Mordor! We secan findan Mordor!" We go to find Mother! We go to find Mother! Regan skipped ahead of Gærs and I, joyful under the blue morning sky.

I was sleepy and uninclined to join her. I had not slept at all, haunted by silent sounds and detailed memories of the burned villages and their dead inhabitants. Gærs was cheerfully awake, however terrifying the sights he may have seen. His eleven-year-old mind was somehow able to leave his memory blissfully blank in such arenas. I envied him this gift, for to me every breath of wind was the enemy, every grass blade that touched me was a wild man's flame, biting at my flesh.

I had fancied myself brave before, but now I knew that I was no hero, simply a weepy, frightened girl.

I could see the powerful form of Aragorn ahead, astride a horse and clad in dark greens. He was the real hero in this tale. And I hoped very much that he would come through for us all.