Merry ran as fast as his Ratling- Hobbit legs could carry him. Pippin followed behind. Sam was just ahead, between myself and the others. With the enhanced senses of an Astartes, I could hear the screeches of our pursuers before my impromptu charges. The thought of facing another of those things didn't seem to frighten me. Ironically the lack of fear is why I started to feel it crawl up my spine. My right hand was shaking involuntarily, a nervous tick I've had since my teens. With nothing to do but run I could think. The first thing I thought of was my death and my hand jerked.

An unnatural calm seemed to wash over me. I could think clearer than before until a fit of panic hit me only to be broken away. I remembered earlier. Astartes don't feel fear… That's why I'm not going apeshit! Damnit just let me have a panic attack- "Faster," my voice was like a cannon with the vox amplifying the already powerful voice of a Space Marine. "They're gaining!"

Merry darted between the trees, having to call out to his friends to not lose them. "This way Frodo!" I could feel that same disgusting and wretched cold slither its way across my body. The same feeling of anger came over me but I blocked it out. I had to focus on following the Hobbits, not turn around and hack apart a single mounted adversary. Only to leave the others to speed past and kill the others.

I matched the feverish sprint of the Halflings without the use of my second heart, long strides carrying one tonne of Astartes flawlessly across the forest floor. I could see a break in the trees and flecks of the moonlight shining into my eyes ahead of me. "Quickly, I can see the water!" If they could, they'd have run faster.

The sound of a horse's hooves and heavy breaths made me growl. Damn you, just go away you little fucks! I stomped my left foot into the ground, turning even as inertia slid me forward and dug a rut into the ground. I took my Bolter from my side and aimed for it. The Nazgul screeched at me while raising a long sword and readying a strike. It received a face full of rocket-propelled-armour-piercing-exploding goodness.

Its head went up in black fragments and smoke, slumping into the saddle and slowly falling to the side. It didn't disappear into nothing so it wasn't dead. Growling, I turned and launched into a short sprint. More thuds behind me alerted me to a second charge. They weren't smart, were they?

Instead of spinning around to obliterate the head, I grinned. The Nazgul struck me with his sword and shattered it. I leaned forward and rammed into the passing horse thing- putting my inane mass into it. Both rider and mount careened away, separating and sending an airborne Nazgul into a tree. I heard a crack and muffled screech for my efforts. My grin threatened to split my face.

Buckleberry Ferry was in my sights and the wharf barely twenty feet from Merry. Behind me, I heard a familiar shriek and turned my head. A one-armed Ringwraith barreled after me, black smoke burning at its stump. I spun again with no time to aim. I used the brick of a gun known as a Bolter to slam the head of the horse away and threw a punch with my left hand into its master. The shriek stopped abruptly as my fist connected with the fuck's side and flung it off and into the dirt below.

I could hear Sam screaming. "Frodo!"

I turned away and ran to the wharf, the ring-bearer jumped aboard. They had waited for me staring in disbelief as I stepped onto the wooden planks. They creaked and groaned beneath me, but despite it held. The whole of the wharf sunk lower and I hesitated only briefly in stepping onto the ferry itself. The shrieking started back up and I laughed on the inside.

The ferry tipped. Suddenly the Hobbits near flew against me, and I struggled not to crush them as I balanced the flimsy wooden raft of a ferry and water splashed on us. It worked, and despite being wet and an angry something- Machine Spirit? -poking at the back of my mind, I sighed along with the drenched Hobbits. We were still leaning backwards, so I shuffled forward carefully. My embarking of the ferry shoved it from shore to drift.

Frodo was panting to catch his breath. Merry and Sam grabbed the poles used to move and started us across the Brandywine. "How… far to the nearest bridge?" He sat back roughly.

"Brandywine bridge... twenty miles," Merry said.


Crossing the river had been harder than I first thought. By the time we had made it to the other side we had sunk low enough water was easily lapping over onto the "deck" of the shoddy ferry more than before. Dismounting it involved no shortness of problems either.

As soon as we were on land again we started moving. I tried my best not to have another near-mental breakdown. Sadly it was too easy to do that. I was stuck in a cycle; panic leads to foreign calm and calm leads to panic. My only choice was to not panic at all and that was too easy as well. I stopped questioning it, that was my only option.

Each of the Hobbits would glance at me with incredulous looks on their faces. They saw me punch that Ringwraith. They know how strong I am. "Dakus?" Frodo had stopped and turned to look at me. He briefly glanced at the double-headed eagle on the front of my breastplate. "How did you-"

"I am strong, that is all there is." I stopped next to him. "Frodo- that is your name? I heard Sam yell it. Who are the others?" Derailing him would be best. I don't think talking about me and this shit would be good right now.

Frodo looked ready to argue but decided against it. He pointed to the two mischievous Hobbits. "That's Merry and Pippin... they weren't supposed to be caught up in all this mess."

I couldn't help but snort. Them? I'm the one that's not even supposed to be in this world!


"Bree!"

I sighed in relief at the sight of the village. The others would if they weren't so out of breath and shaking in the rain and cold. I didn't feel it, my armour having regulated the temperature inside itself. Not to mention an Astarte's natural resistances.

Frodo was the first to start towards the gate. I followed just behind with my armoured feet sinking an inch into the ground- I hate mud- but not slowing me. Although I had to catch Sam by the arm before he ate dirt.

Frodo knocked on the gate a few times before the gatekeeper opened the peephole cover. He first saw the Hobbits and then glanced up at me. He choked and instead of opening the door, spoke.

"What do you want?"

Frodo glanced back at me, before answering. "We're headed for the Prancing Pony." Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the dark. The gatekeeper closed the peephole for a moment, probably thinking to himself. I sighed inwardly, only to be cut off by squeaking hinges. "Four Hobbits… and by your talk, from the Shire, and your companion?"

"I am their escort, to keep them safe."

He seemed to almost doubt that, but then looked at the very unthreatening Hobbits and back to me. Nodding, he asked another question. "Your business in Bree, then?"

"We're staying at the inn and our business is our own." Frodo was nervous, shuffling on his feet.

The old man unlocked the gate and opened it. "All right, I meant no offence." The Hobbits stepped through, small almost inaudible sighs of relief heard only by me. I leaned forward and twisted to get my huge and armoured body through. I'm sure I heard the gatekeeper's heart start beating faster as I stood back up to my full height. I turned to him, remembering his fate in the movies. "Thank you. If you hear horses… run." He gave me a jittery nod as I started walking away and followed the out-of-place Hobbits through the village.

I had a nagging feeling of dread, thankfully not shut down by this body, as I recognized the surroundings from the movie. Other than smaller details and more to see, all of it was the same. People stopped to gawk at me. Each of them was nervous and there were so many double-takes. A carriage passed us by and the horse whinnied; I could tell I put it off. Thankfully it didn't take long for us to find the Prancing Pony's sign. Already I heard the noise from inside.

The door to the Inn opened and the sounds of exuberant activity were much louder. Frodo and his friends were paid little mind, but I ducked into the doorway and the floor creaked under me. That happy conversation died down.

The same as outside I was stared at by many. Others tried their best to not ogle me and some did it shamelessly. There were whispers and rumours spreading the second I looked away from them and to my impromptu travel buddies. This is just great.

The innkeeper looked down and up at us. "Good evening, masters." Even in the face of a giant man in thick armour he held a chipper attitude. I like him. "If you're here for a room- or two for your friend here-" He smiled, "We have Hobbit-sized accommodations for you, Mister…?"

"Underhill… My name's Underhill." Frodo continued, "We're friends of Gandalf the Grey, can you tell him we're here?

The innkeeper- I remember now, his name's Butterbur. Butterbur thought for a moment. Recognition dawned on his features and he nodded, "Yes, yes I remember him! Elderly man, big grey beard and pointy hat?" He shook his head, "Haven't seen him in six months."

Now to wait for Strider, don't want to oust myself as some kind of future-telling knight or something. "What are we going to do now?" Sam asked, Frodo was unsure and in shock. He motioned for the others and me to follow him to a table. People were still giving me side-long glances even in the midst of their quickly regrowing conversations. I leaned against the nearest wall carefully, making sure not to put my full weight on it.

I turned off my vox and started breathing slow and deep. My right hand's fingers twitched. Alright… I tried my best to not let panic overcome me. I refused to let that unnatural acceptance rule me.

I am now an Astartes. Leaving that statement to bounce around my head was more jarring than I thought. I died… died by falling from a roof? Details slipped my mind. Did someone push me off? Nothing, not a damn thing.

So now, I don't even know how the fresh fuck I died anymore. What, will I forget my old name too? A quick burst of terror ran through me and I immediately tried recalling my name. I breathed a sigh of relief when it came to me.

Dakus Grant- Wait, no… Aw fuck, you have to be fucking kidding me. I didn't even have the will to be surprised. Only a feeling of tired acceptance. Fuck it, crying over it's not gonna make it better! FUCK IT! I am stuck in Lord Of The Fucking Rings and am a space fascist super-soldier! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! The shaking of my hand didn't go unnoticed by Pippin. He ignored it in favour of Merry sitting down with a mug of beer.

Butterbur stopped next to Frodo and the sound of the inn bombarded my senses. I wish I had some music. At that thought, I felt the Machine Spirit of my armour respond. A list of my favourite songs appeared in a pop-up display of my helmet. At least something's going my way, I thought as I started browsing. But before I could pick Frodo had jumped from his seat and pushed his way to Merry and grabbed his sleeve. Oh, it's happening. I got distracted, didn't I?

"Pippin!"

"Steady on, Frodo!" He pushed him. Frodo fell to the ground and I started moving even before he hit the ground. When he did, he went invisible. My vox came on and I growled, making the baffled and dumbfounded patrons part before me.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Frodo reappear, and started in that direction. Aragorn materialized from the crowd and nabbed him. They started up the stairs and my foot landed on the first step slowly.

Mentally shrugging I took another step. The board cracked in two and I winced. Sorry, Butterbur. I came up to the door, bent and broken boards behind me, hearing the trio of Hobbits behind me rushing up the steps as well. I moved out of the way, and they burst through. Sam yelled, "Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!"

Aragorn smiled slightly, but it disappeared as I squeezed through- yet again a small doorway. "What he said." I laughed a little at his half-surprised expression.

"I am not your enemy…" He turned to Frodo, "You can no longer wait for the Wizard, Frodo. They're coming."