Disclaimer- Well, secretly, in the time I was gone, I stole the entire copyrighting document-thingies from JRR Tolkien's family, because I figured they were rich enough already, and now I own the entire LotR world! BWUHAHAHA! No, I didn't really, but I live in hope, right?

Notes- Okay, so I lied. My muse abandoned me for months on end- but I have a reason! I blame my GCSE's- because they're horrible and make me revise and Im panicking... And Ive owed you all a chapter in so long, so here it is! Yay!

Pronunciation of my characters-
Caisha- Cay-sha (Known as Cay)
Ysan- Ee-san
Dyanai- Di-yan-ey
Illyra- Ill-aye-rar (Known as Ra)
Línarai- Lee-nar-ey (Known as Rai)
Bregedur- Bree-ga-door
Aerauth- Ey-er-ow-th (Known as Fred)

To my beloved reviewers- Wow xD You're all so loverly. Thank you all for reviewing- and I hope you enjoy this! I've not seen LotR in a while, so it took me a bit of research to find out what happened next p And I couldnt have Elrohir let Cay go without a proper goodbye- so I want to hear some 'awws' from you! -pokes you with a stick-

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Chapter Seven- Of Mr Snuggles, Werewolves and Plot Secrets

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"Where is it? Mr Snuggles, where are you?"

There was a solitary shape pawing frantically through a large, pink, lace-covered, flower shaped box. Perfectly manicured nails were becoming chipped and worn as they tore through the discarded items the box held, enchanting blue eyes narrowed darkly as she hunted through the old junk. Full lips were pursed into an ugly line and immaculately straight blonde hair that shimmered like wheat in the sunlight (Anyone else wishing for a plague of locusts in this particular wheat field?) was in disarray- a growl started in the richy tanned, flawless throat and rose to a crescendo, until Britney, Leader of the Order of the Sue, threw the box across the cavern with inhuman strength, where it hit another Mary Sue and killed her. But, because this is a perfect world full of perfect people (-shudder- oh, the horror) she immediately came back to life using the powers of her second-removed-great-great-great-aunts-brothers-uncles-sons-grandmothers-secret-lover which she never knew she had and then rejoiced in the fact she had this totally unique gift, unlike anyone else in the world... Oh, can we detect the sarcasm?

So the Order of the Sue threw a party, and anyone else who discovered powers that came from their second-removed-great-great-great-aunt's-brothers-uncle's-son's-grandmother's-secret-lover at that time were banned, because no-one likes to steal a Mary Sue's spotlight- no-one would want to. They are extremely dangerous when provoked- your best bet to avoid an attack is to throw either an S Club 7 CD or an Orlando Bloom poster in the opposite direction and leg it like the clappers... But I digress... Whilst all the Mary Sue's rocked out perfectly to ATeens, waving neat hands in the air and boogying on down with some amazing dance moves that Wade Robson himself could not contest, Britney sat on her Pink Throne and brooded. And schemed. And generally set her IQ of 25007403858964 and 1 into motion in an attempt to find a revenge plan that wouldn't break her nails.

However, because the authoress of this story doesn't want her main character killed off at this point, she reduced Britney's IQ of 25007403858964 and 1 to 25.1 and laughed evily to herself, then choked on a cheerio and died. (No, she didnt really, but I scared you, didnt I? Thought so.) So, during the celebration, Britney grabbed her longsword and slid away into the shadows with her uber amazing silent sneaking powers and disappeared through one of the many hidden gateways into another world- by the time any of the Order of the Sue noticed their Leader wasn't there, they were all too perfectly hung over to care.

And I lied. Really, I raised her IQ from 2.51. I felt it was a bit harsh that the Leader of the Sue had a lower IQ than a flea.

Alas, it is a very intelligent flea we are talking about.

----

"Cut it."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Cut it."

"Cut what?"

"The hair, Rai, the hair."

"Oh... But... your hair! Lady Cay-"

"Ahem?"

"-I mean Cay- its your hair! Why would you want to cut it off?"

"Oh, Golly gosh, Gee Wizz and Jimmy Cricket! Let me think about that... Maybe the fact it's bright pink?"

"... I happen to think pink is a very becoming colour on you."

"Well, I don't."

"I'll just go and stand over here for a while, shall I?"

Caisha nodded bluntly at her servant helper and turned back to stare into the oval, silver-wreathed mirror thoughtfully, biting on the bed of her thumbnail. She'd tried so hard to dye her hair back to her normal colour- the only sign of progress she had were the dark streaks of purple now running through the bubblegum bright tresses, which, she had to admit, could only be an improvement under these circumstances. Hell, she'd rather have it back at the familiar old blue than this... this... dangerous hue. Exasperated with herself, she tied it up in a loose ponytail then turned from the mirror, staring silently out of the arch-shaped, paneless windows, completely oblivious of the fact her thumb cuticle was bleeding. I want to go home... This isn't me. I go to music concerts and fall asleep in some randomer's house because I got too stoned. I punish my liver with alcohol, for it is evil, and my mind with rubbishy teen novels, because its amusing. I don't look like this, I don't lust after fictional elves and I sure as hell don't mess around with swords and arrows in the hope that I'm holding it the right way round.

I'm going to die out here.

She examined herself quietly, turning to get the full on effect- despite the pink hair, I look quite good. Hell, if all else fails, I can model medieval clothing for a living. Having pointblank refused to wear a dress or robes of anykind, her elven maid had helped her into men's attire- which Rai had frowned at, but reluctantly done. She was not strong enough to wear armour of any kind, especially as she was going to have to carry her weapons and pack, so she was in civilian kit. She wore a black tunic bordered in scarlet and gold, which was oddly light and was made of something closely resembling silk, but not at all shiny, that fell to just above her knees and split down the middle from the waist, to allow her legs movement. It had a high neckline that protected her throat, and the sleeves came to just above her elbows, loose and fluttery in the light breeze. Dark, wine coloured wrap around trousers bound her legs loosely, still allowing her liberty of movement, and black, calf-high boots covered her feet. A dark, hooded cloak, midnight blue in colour, was fastened about her neck by the familiar leaf brooch of the elven kin. It didn't billow, it didn't sweep dramatically- but it was dry and thick, and would keep the cold off. There. Totally harmless.

She looked a little less harmless with her new long sword, which she had named Karma after much thought and many ironic comments, strapped to the heavy leather belt Gimli had given her for her birthday. The throwing dagger from Aragorn went besides it, next to the pouch from Pippin and Merry had given her, which contained her mascara, a single acorn from Elrond and a pair of earrings, for unknown reasons, and the blade from the Lego Man went into the side of her boot. The brace of wrist knives was about her wrist, obviously, in easy access, and, unsure what to do with the bridle, she'd shoved it into her pack in the hopes it would come in useful in the future. Elladan's bow and a quiver of black fletched arrows were strapped across her back, over the pack, and Caisha discovered, to her endless delight, she could easily tug the bow free and strike some heroic poses in a matter of seconds- much like James Bond... If James Bond had been born in Middle Earth.

She eyed her room with a small sigh- over the past weeks, she'd become rather attached to it. Once you got past the fact Elves had no respect for privacy and barrelled in oblivious to what she was doing, it was rather cosy. Sure, the wind let the cold in at night, the sheets were too thin and she frequently knocked her head and stubbed her toe on the wardrobe, but... it had a homely feel. She walked around it for the last time, double-checking she'd not left anything behind -the fine silver cloak and the robes from Arwen were packed up neatly in the backpack- before sighing softly, touching her fingers to the small amethyst necklace that was laid over her tunic collar. Elrohir... Was there ever a man-elf-person as confusing as him? She tore her mind quickly away from the handsome trouble maker; the kiss of the previous night was still a painful memory, and she was partially relieved she wouldn't see him again after today. Then I can focus on getting home, not moping around after him.

Twenty-fifth of Foreyule, 1418... That was the day, this day, the day of their departure. She remembered someone saying it last night... In her world, that was december. Christmas Day. How was it possible that four months had passed at home when only four weeks had passed here? Was time going to be like that? What if she were away for a year, and got home, and roughly four and a half years had passed? She'd get home, and they'd think she was dead, or run away... What will Ma and Da think? And little Ra will be just gone eighteen... We'll only be a few months apart! I'll have only aged a year, in this world. Ryan and Coal will be nearly twelve, and Karmella will be sixteen- two years younger than me. What about Ren? Will she even remember me? She'll be nine, by the time I get back...

Choking back tears of homesickness as she adjusted her pack and stared out the window at the rising dust, she barely noticed Rai leave the room, or the new figure standing in the doorway. Everyone had hangovers this morning... An amusing party, if a little tame for my tastes... She spotted Legolas and Gimli striding through the courtyard, bickering about something, dressed in travelling attire and eager to be off. They were headed for the meeting yard, where Caisha had been bowled over by the two riders, and she sighed softly, This is it, then. Time to go.

She turned around, starting for the doorway and too busy strapping her sheild securely to her arm to notice the grey-eyed elf watching her silently, until she walked into him. Strong arms caught her before she could fall, and refused to let her go even after she'd regained her footing. Concern was written in every line of the handsome face, and the full mouth she was so used to seeing smile was set in a worried frown.

"Elrohir..." she breathed in bewilderment, unable to use her nickname for him when he looked so concerned. She had half a mind to pull away from his tight grip, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it, "What are you doing here?" she managed, feeling her shield wedged painfully into her side and shifted slightly.

"Caisha... About last night... I'm sorry." He wouldn't meet her eyes- a small spark of anger flared inside her heart.

"Sorry that it happened? Forget about it." she pulled herself free roughly, smoothing her creases from her clothes where he'd grabbed her.

"Not that it happened." Gentle arms encircled her again, clasping her upper arms softly and pulling her towards him. Hell, who was she to deny him that? "Sorry that I stopped."

"Why did you?" It had hurt, him apologising and walking away... It left her feeling confused, and we all know by now Caisha doesn't like to be confused. It makes her cranky.

"Because I'm an idiot." he murmered gently, his face so close she could feel the breath lick across her features, warm and fresh, inticing. "Something my brother said came to mind... I had to think... And then I realised you really were going to leave, and I couldn't stop you going, and I knew that if I let you walk away without setting it right, I'd have regretted it for the rest of my life- and we live a long, long time."

"So how do you plan to set it right?" she struggled out, refusing to let herself melt, like she so wanted to do.

"Like this." he smirked, and closed the gap between their mouths. Unlike last night, which had been drunken and slightly clumsy, this kiss was precise and tender, melding their lips together until Caisha lost track of which pair were hers. It didn't stay gentle and sweet for long, though- it gave way to passion, which hardened and deepened the pressure of the kiss, until Caisha felt herself being pressed up against the wall, her pack and weapons digging into her body but honestly not caring right now. Elrohir's hands traced a slow, taunting pattern from her arms to her shoulders, then down her sides until they rested on her waist, gripping her as though she might run off or vanish any moment.

She had no idea how long they stayed like that, bodies pressed together and lips intertwined, her fingers buried in his short hair, his pressing ever against her waist, but it was a tactful cough that brought them back to earth. They leapt apart, guiltily, and Caisha noted Elrohir looked dishevelled, dark-eyed and flushed- she most likely looked the same. She glanced at their intruder, and smiled weakly as she caught sight of the entire Fellowship staring at them with wide eyes- it had been Aragorn who'd coughed. He, as elected leader of the group, was pushed forwards reluctantly, cringing under Caisha's murderous gaze,

"Caisha... We... Uh... That is, I, we... Weneedtogo." he blurted out, wishing himself anywhere but there- give him ringwraiths and wild chases in the forest anyday, as opposed to this malevolent teenager.

"What? Now? Right, okay. Give me a moment- I'll be there soon." Needing no other excuse, the Fellowship fled, Gandalf the most relaxed of them, swinging his staff and whistling idly, smirking knowingly to Caisha as he strolled past. She glared after him, then turned back to Elrohir, who smiled weakly.

"Im off, then." She stammered out, feeling slightly embarassed they'd been caught in the middle of their heated exchange- Elrohir looked in a similar abashed mood.

"I know... I've said my goodbye-" a weak smile, "-and I've got just one favour to ask."

"What is it?"

"Don't die."

"I'll try not to."

"If you do, I'll kill you."

------

That had been two weeks ago- they'd been on the road for a long while, and it was killing her. Her backpack, considering its lightness, had been burdened onto Bill, giving her more liberty than the rest of them, but she fared worse than the others, despite this. They were hardened warriors -and hobbits- and were used to long walks in the country, considering there was no other realistic mode of transport except horses. Caisha had been softened by a life of easy going, of late night parties, alcohol and drugs, sex and TV, junkfood, chocolate and sweets. She was no accustomed to these long walks, especially under the chilly grey sky, blowing cold across them from the Misty Mountains to the East. They travelled chiefly by night, to avoid detection, and slept as best they could throughout the day, but when they stopped each dawn for a rest, she felt like she'd been run over by a steam roller and then used to slap Michael Jackson to death.

She had blisters on her feet, though her boots were surprisingly comfy, and her calf muscles ached constantly. She threw up at least twice a day, without fail, though the others said nothing about it as she relentlessly kept up with their marching pace. Aragorn was leading them through the Bruinen and the Mountains, which meant it wasn't even gentle going- steep inclines had to be scaled, rough terrain covered, rocks slid into shoes and tore open her hands when she fell. All in all, she was not doing well- quite often, Boromir and the hobbits would walk besides her, comforting and encouraging her, though she often did not have breath with which to reply. Gandalf occasionally touched her on the shoulder, or the arm, and she felt a thrill of energy jolt through her, just enough for her to cover the last few miles until the dawn rest, but most of the time they left her be, seeing her determination to be as good as them.

Even the Lego-Man, who'd doubted her abilities, could not fault her self-discipline as she matched the Fellowship pace for pace, and even spoke to her with a slight warmth in his voice when they'd stopped for the day. All it took for him to be friendly was me half-killing myself on a trek. Gee... if only I'd known that earlier. Aragorn showed her how to hide traces of her presence when they broke camp or she threw up, and Boromir continued to help her study her weapons skill- she was getting better at archery. At least she hit the target every time these days- but she barely had the strength to lift her sword, and had to resort to using her daggers at most points. Despite her initial weakness, though, she was hardening to this new life- muscles were slowly toning in places she didn't even know she had, and she found that it didn't require as much effort to stay with the Fellowship on some days. The sun, which still made a watery show through the dank clouds, even if it was feeble and cold, was tanning her skin with a colour people back at home spent thousands trying to achieve, when all they really needed to do was get off their arses and work for a long while under the sky.

They reached Hollin, where Elves dwelt in ancient times, at the end of the second week. Warm winds from the south met them and brought clear sky and sunlight, driving away the cold grey clouds under which they had labored for the entire fortnight since their departure from Rivendell. They again rested during the day and marched during the night to discourage observation by servants of either Isengard or Mordor, though Caisha found her eyes quickly adjusting to the shadows and the darkness around them, until she could distinguish between rocks and people -several painful experiences had occured in which she'd tried to climb over Merry, Gimli and Sam-. Quite often she walked with Bill, relieving Sam of the task and spoke to the horse like it was an old friend- the only thing here that she remotely recognised as a part of her past life.

It took them an extra day to move through the land of Hollin, where stood the Elven-city of Eregion through almost a thousand years of the Second Age — now so long ago that Legolas detected Elven-sympathy only in the worked stones strewn among the grass and holly-trees. Caisha watched his exploration of the ancient home curiously, noting him pick up on things she hadn't even realised were there- gradually, slowly, Caisha was learning. Changing. Even so, quite often her mind flashed back home. Two weeks... two months, back home. It would be February- her fathers birthday. Not for the first time, she wondered what they were doing, if they missed her- and, even more frequently, she thought of Elrohir, of their goodbye, and why the fact she'd never see him again filled her with a leaden, melancholy feeling, like someone had shot her in the chest.

And there was the Order of the Sue- they worried Caisha, with their unholy fascination for pink and their worship of all things made of lace, and ever since the Attack on the Plains, which she'd taken to calling it, she'd been even more wary of them coming to seek retribution.

They'd been walking across the great wide plains of Hollin, having just reached that border of the land, in surprisingly good moods being as they were ahead of their predicted arrival here. Frodo and Sam had been talking in hushed voices, with Merry and Pippin chasing each other across the rocky turf. Gandalf was striding ahead with Aragorn and Legolas, and Gimli walked silently just behind, muttering to himself. Caisha was at the back, as usual, lagging behind slightly considering a stone had slipped into her boot during the course of the day, and was making it painful to walk.

Unable to carry on until she'd got rid of the blasted thing, she'd tugged off her boot and upended it, watching the tiny rock drop amongst its brethren, who clammered and skittered at its arrival, then began to ask it what life was like amongst the scary Toe-People. Maybe that was why she hadn't heard the growl behind her, the savage snarl and the crunch of rock under paw- realistically, it was just because Caisha wasn't paying attention.

Something had leapt at her from behind, slamming her into the ground and pinning her there. She could feel small lines of saliva drool across her back, and hot breath fanned across her neck. Sharp claws dug into her clothes as she struggled to right herself. Managing at least to get her dagger out of her belt, she'd twisted her arm around painfully and jabbed randomly behind her- a sharp yelp and an immediate lightness on her spine meant she'd struck home, and scrambled to her feet, spinning to face her attacker.

It had been a giant wolf, pure black in colour and at least three foot from the floor to it's shoulder. Cruel eyes of bulbous yellow watched her movements as she scrambled backwards, drawing her sword clumsily at the same time. Shouts behind her signalled the attention of her fellows, who'd noticed her attacker- and maybe thats what did it. The knowledge that all eyes were trained on her filled her with a strange, zealous rage. How dare this thing attack her. How dare it! It might look threatening, with those amazingly sharp teeth and rippling muscles under the ebon coat, but she would show it a thing or two.

As it leapt at her again, she had felt the weariness drain away as adrenaline coursed through her body. Spinning sideways, sword poised and balanced with a strength borne of terror, she turned to face the wolf again, which was shaking its head in an extremely familiar manner. The eyes remained fixed on hers, and the growl rose even louder before it dived forwards, slashing at her arm before leaping away again, ears flattened and the skin between its nose and brow wrinkled in folds, the lips peeled back and the growl reverberating the throat, which quivered... And yet somewhere insides of her, any fear or panic she had was being surpressed, and all she could feel was an incredible rage. This... this... thing was trying to kill her, for no apparent reason whatsoever!

"IT'S TRYIN' TO EAT MEH!"

Blood dripping from the gap in her arm, though she'd barely noticed, she'd swung Karma around in a wide arc, as though to sweep the wolfs legs out from under it, then quickly changed and sliced upwards. As the canine leapt away from the undercut, it was caught by the slice and yelped as its chest was torn through with a thin line. Eyes smouldering, Caisha had advanced, and, such was the nature of the day, the wolf had backed up, right before it leapt again, aiming for her revealled throat. She quickly dodged away and turned her sword so that it caught the wolf right through the chest as it leapt- there was a sickening crunch, and her sword tip had pierced right through the creature and come out the other side.

She withdrew her sword as the creature rolled about in agonised death throes, and quickly slit its throat, as a mercy stroke. Hurridely cleaning her sword on the grass, feeling a triumphant urge to be sick, if that made sense, she glanced up to see her fellows staring at her in bewilderment. Aragorn and Gandalf looked the least surprised, but Legolas looked like she'd called him ugly and Gimli was reeling in surprise. Frodo didn't care, because he was too interested in moaning about the ring, and Sam was petting Bill, who'd panicked upon seeing the wolf, and looking at her in surprise. Merry and Pippin stood with mouths opening and closing like little gold fish... Aww... Goldfish Twins. How cute.

Turning back to her kill, she was about to say something, no doubt a heroic and momentus thing, when she watched the thing change before her very eyes -but not before a smug looking flea hopped off the body and darted away-... The claws retreated into paws, which were forming perfect, slender hands, and the tail was shrinking into nothing. The fearsome head was molding into the beautious features of a blonde haired, blue-eyed Leader of the Sue, who was still gasping her last, despite her throat being cut. In total shock, Caisha had just blinked as Britney eyed her hatefully, and whispered,

"You stole Mr Snuffles... bitch."

Then she'd died, and Caisha felt like she wanted to be sick even more, knowing she'd killed a person, not just an attacking creature. Gimli had walked up besides her and eyed the Sue warily, as though it might leap from the dead- this is a Mary Sue we're talking about -and glanced at Caisha,

"What was she? Werewolf?"

Caisha inspected the body and shook her head with a disgusted sneer, "No."

"What was she then?"

"Animagus."

After that, the attitude in the group had changed. She was no longer the feckless idiot who'd been thrust upon them- though Legolas probably still thought she was-. They'd seen her kill with a precision they didn't know she possessed, and, whilst Caisha felt all warm and fuzzy inside now they'd accepted her at last, she couldn't help but shake off the feeling that her sudden swore skill was very, very... Marysueish...

In the clear air they descried the Mountains of Moria, three jagged peaks that lay above Khazad-dûm, the most ancient delvings of the dwarves. Gimli nearly wet himself with excitement when Gandalf announced that the Company was to cross the mountains and descend the Dimrill stair, passing the sacred Mirrormere.- Aragorn just looked slightly put out that someone other than him had taken control of the group. They stopped for a rest near some ancient ruins in Hollin, when the sun was just making a show behind the Mountains in the distance. The day was clear and warm, with only sparse clouds shadowing the good mood of the Fellowship as they relaxed amongst the stones. Caisha perched herself on one of the jagged boulders, reclining on the warm rockface and half closing her eyes, listening to the crackle of the Hobbit's cooking fire, and the ring of sword on sword as Boromir helped them train...

She listened vaguely to drifts of conversation that passed through the Fellowship like laxatives through a constipated person, but she'd heard it all before...

"For the Shire!" She chuckled softly as the hobbits ganged up on Boromir, flooring him, though the laughter died on her lips when Boromir looked up at her strangely... His look made her uncomfortable, like he was scrutinising her, and she turned away to listen to others.

"...which I note they're not... I'd say we were taking the long way round... cousin Balin..."

"No Gimli, I would not take the road through Moria..." Blah blah blah... They were going to end up going through the mines- big deal. She knew what happened, that Gandalf didn't die and they all got out alive.

Except me... The realisation suddenly struck her. Im not in the book, Im not in the film... Will I survive? Against those orcs, and that balrog thing? I really want that as a pet, come to think of it... Oh Gods, I better had do. I'm too young and pink to die young.

"...is that?"

"...wisp of cloud..."

It was Legolas who snapped her out of her thoughts, "Crebain! From Dunland!"

"Hide!" Someone grabbed her roughly and she was half-dragged, half-pulled under an overhang by unseen hands, which wrapped about her and prevented her from instinctively fighting back. She was pressed up against an unknown body, bewildered and appaled by this manhandling, but stopped struggling as soon as she saw the crowd of crows, spies of Saruman, caw by overhead, circling the ruins and hunting for them. Never before had she experienced such.. terror. It leaked out of the party like blood from a wound -her own of which was bandaged up after the Attack on the Plains, by the by- and infected her, until she felt herself panic... But still the arms were pinning her, and did not release her until Gandalf broke out from under his cover. Rolling free, she glanced across to where Aragorn had been holding her- he just smiled apologetically and turned to help Frodo out... She shook her head and turned in time to hear Gandalf,

"Spies of Saruman! The passage south is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras!"

She groaned softly- a nice, soft mountain covered in snow to climb up, only to be stopped near the top and sent into the Mines. Wasn't this going to be fun?

She ignored the questioning glances sent her way after she groaned, instead retrieving her sword and dagger from the boulder and looking expectantly at the wizard.

"We should just go for the Mines of Moria, y'know." A voice send, and Caisha was bewildered to find it was her own- everyone turned to look at her in equal surprise. "It'll save us a lot of time."

Gandalf frowned at her, toying with his beard, "What are you saying, Caisha?"

"Just that with a mountain to climb and a lot of snow to cover and the fact we're all going to end up buried under an avalanche because Saruman doesn't like you, Gandalf, and you can't counter his spells, means its just going to be a waste of time, and I'm very prone to pneumonia. True, we'll end up fleeing orcs and goblins in the Mines, but at least we won't be cold, especially with the---" She paused, staring at their shocked faces, "What? Whats the matter? Was it something I said?"

To be continued

Well... It wasnt funny xD Ah well. Review, damn you! -bites your leg- I won't continue until I have 40 reviews. -nod-