"Er… what's your name?" I blinked beneath my helmet.

"Do not say another word. I already screwed that one up. My new name is Dakus Grant, 'cuz apparently, I forgot my old one." I sighed, "I'm stuck with an improv name I came up with on the spot."

His armoured hands clenched. "What?" He choked on his words. "I… I can't…" Realization dawned and he squeaked out an indecipherable curse. "I can't remember my name!"

Fuck. Guess it isn't something we keep when- "Wait! WAIT!" He was frantic, starting to clumsily throw himself upwards, flailing his arms while trying to stand. "Hit me!" What? I look at him like he's mad- Probably is considering the circumstances- and he taps on his chest.

"You want me, an Astartes, to punch you." My voice was dead and monotone. "Yeah, you know, when you can't remember something and need to jog your memory!" He sounded almost pleading. "You realize I'm double your weight, can lift three of you at one time and you want me to punch you?"

He slumped. "Not... Maybe not."

Silence reigned. Then I slapped him upside the head. He jerked back and then looked at me in what I presumed to be bewilderment. "Did that help?" If it did I will eat my Bolter.

"No… But at least I'm calm now." I sigh and start my walk back down to the tiny camp. Need to go back and keep an eye on those four. If they start a damn fire I swear to whatever fucking bullshit put me here I will- I cut myself off and turned around. "Uh," hesitantly, "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll remember it soon. Just avoid thinking of any name that feels unfamiliar."

"Uh- Okay!"

Wait, shit, I still have to explain where he even came from to them. Fuck all this shit.


"Anyone else hungry?" Pippin was munching on bread and dried meat. "We should cook something up." Frodo had gone to sleep, away from the other three. Sam agreed and set up his frying pan. Merry collected what little sticks he could to start a fire.

"I hope to high hell you aren't doing what I think you're doing." Merry, Pippin and Sam practically fell over themselves at the sound of my voice. Frodo was still fast asleep.

"No fires. Or would you like to be seen from miles away?" I walk over to a rock and plop myself down on it. A little too fast. It cracks beneath me and I shift slightly. I motion with one hand into the darkness.

"Come on out already, we don't have all night." At my words, the blue Spartan walks out of the dark shade, moonlight giving a fair view for the Hobbits. He looks like a blue Master Chief, but instead of the number 117, it's nowhere to be seen. He's holding himself differently… Tense or prepared, I don't know. Could be like the foreign bullshit abilities I gained, he got them too. But Spartan ones. "Calm down. It's not like they can hurt you."

He slumped. "Sorry, but," he motions to them, "ya know." I stifled a snort. Yup, the Lord Of The Rings.

"'Ya know' what?" Merry looked between us. The new guy stiffened, "Uh, I'm not good with people." He pauses. "At all." Either he's good at lying, or that's the truth. I'm banking on truth.

Sam spoke up, suspicious of the newcomer. I would be too. He literally came out of nowhere as I did- Hopefully, that doesn't cause any trust issues. "I'm Samwise and that's Merry and Pippin. Frodo is our sleeping friend there. What's your name, sir?" Still suspicious. Even more so now that he mentioned Frodo. "And where did you come from, if I may ask?"

Another pause. "Aaron," he stumbled on his words. "Aaron Lee." Only I noticed the self-assuring nod he gave himself, it was so tiny. "I, uh, I came from the same place Dakus did. Just got lost travelling, is all. I'm lucky he found me up there…"

"Now that introductions are out of the way," I felt the rock beneath me crack just slightly again, and I stood up. "You should get some rest. Aaron and I will watch the camp."

As they settled down, grumbling about tomatoes and sausages, I stood beside Aaron. A light crackle in my ear made me turn to him. As quietly as my vox would allow, I whispered to him.

"Was that you on the vox- radio channels? How did you figure that out so quick?" He nodded and his voice appeared directly in my ear. "Yeah, so we can talk without them hearing us… and I just kinda stumbled on it." He sighed, "I don't know if Aaron Lee is my real name, but it just feels right. I… guess I'll have to deal with that. Won't I?" Blinking beneath my helmet and putting my palm on my 'face' I sighed as well.

"Yes, you will. I think." I shrug, "I'm not an expert on this. I'm just being a pragmatic bitch about it. A mental breakdown as an Astartes cannot be good." Aaron laughed and I snorted.

He looked out into the dark like I did, thinking about something I'd guess. "So… What now?" I didn't answer for a few seconds.

"Gandalf. When in doubt, find the wizard." Or, I thought while Strider searched the surrounding area, beat the fuck out of some Orcs and evil screechy ghost things.

"You said you had control over your armour or whatever, right? What, 'among other things' do you have in there? I have some books that appear on my HUD to read. Oh, and games I can control with my head."

"You have what?" I looked at him like he was a madman again, only to get an optimistic nod. Actually, I don't know what all I have in here. I only found that music player on accident anyway.

"I mostly meant a music player. It has so many songs on it, I have no clue how this thing's drive or whatever it is can hold it all." He hummed and looked up.

"A gift? Modification? Something else?" Aaron shrugged and tilted his head. "All I know is I shouldn't know how to use this thing's mental commands and cybernetic stuff. Or kill someone twenty different ways with my fingers." On that darker note, we lapsed into an awkward silence.

I spoke again a minute later. "Wanna listen to some Sabaton?" He then told me he had no clue who that was.

Time to enlighten him.


After a session of listening to every (Maybe not every) song made by one of my favourite Power Metal bands, Strider had returned. Of course, he zoned in on Aaron and played twenty questions- 'How'd he get here? Who is he? Is he a friend or foe?'

I returned that with, 'Got lost', 'A friend of mine', and 'He wouldn't be sitting here if he wasn't on our side'. Safe to say he didn't like it, I know I wouldn't.

That's when we all heard a distant screech. Fortunately, the Ringwraiths overshot us. Unfortunately, they had overshot us. Which now meant we had them in front of us.

Not good.

At all.

I'm gonna run out of ammunition before I get to Rivendell, aren't I? On that thought, I started checking over my equipment. Power Sword, Nocturne-Ultima, five thirty round magazines mag-locked to my body, a sixth mag minus one Bolt in my weapon, and- Oh hell yes. A couple of frag grenades and a single Krak grenade.

Why the fuck hadn't I looked at what I had already? I am a god damn fool.

Pushing the explody goodness from my mind, I looked over to Aaron doing the same as I was. From what I could see he had about the same as I did. Pouches on his upper legs and a few on his chest- I didn't see those in the games- held at most seven or eight mags. Each one held, from what I could remember, thirty-two rounds. As well as two frags. If we conserve ammo, we could go pretty far with it. No Fourth of July parties for us, then.

"Dakus?" Aaron tilted his head at me, "Do you think we'll see anyone else?" He put down his rifle, stowed his gear away, and looked down at his somehow-too-large-but-not combat knife.

"What do you mean? Like another person falling out of the sky or something? Probably. I'd bet you on it too, but I got nothin' to bet with." The Hobbits and Strider were far enough away for me to talk outside of the radio. I couldn't exactly turn down my voice- Or not, seeing as my visor just told me the volume of my vox went down. Somehow.

Aaron sighed. "Yeah…" With one hand he reached up and pressed his hand onto a hidden locking mechanism, unsealing his helmet and pulling it off. Shattering my expectations of a gruff semi-old soldier, Aaron looked like he was just barely in his twenties. Brown hair, brown eyes, plain face and no facial hair.

Slowly, "Do I still look like some prepubescent kid?" He frowned, spun his helmet around and tried to use the golden visor as a half-assed mirror.

"Sort of- holy shit I'm not a walking fog horn anymore. You look boring and really young." He looked up at me as I spoke. He blinked once and then frowned more.

"What, not everyone's got a chiselled jawline. And I'll have you know I'm twenty-one."

I snorted and took my own helmet off. Aaron's eyebrows slid upwards as I breathed in the fresh air. "Why don't you look like a burnt chicken nugget? Is that not what the Salamander Chapter Marines look like. You are a Salamander, right? Oh, and the glowy eye thing?"

I lost what sense of calm I had and laughed a little too loud. Strider simply looked at me with some degree of confused curiosity and the Hobbits looked at me with odd smiles. Calming down I spoke again. "Yeah, I'm a Salamander. Did the white dragon head on my shoulder give it away?"

I hummed, "I was worried about the whole coal-black skin thing… Guess we get to keep our looks?" I sighed in relief until he shook his head.

"I was into Warhammer a bit… Honestly, I was into a lot of things a 'bit'. Anyways, it's something to do with a lot of radiation and your genes. So stay away from nukes or something and you won't be a walking black hole with red eyes. Although, I think you're getting a tan."

I squawked and scrambled to put my helmet on. Once I did I was greeted by Aaron giggling his ass off.

I returned my vox to normal and then spoke. "Oh ha-ha. Do I still look like a dishevelled blondie?" He nodded. "Yeah, pretty much." I rolled my eyes and stood up.

"I think it's time to get going. We have some Nazgul to outrun!" Putting my optimistic foot first I helped gather the Hobbits things while Aragorn kept watch. Aaron kept glancing at everything, nervously.

"We should get moving, now," Aragorn said. He started down Weathertop just as I got fed up with stuffing things into a tiny bag and simply pulled Pippin up onto my shoulders and handed him it. "You figure it out, I'm not patient enough for it." And there goes the optimism. Hyper-reflexive, hyper-attentive super-soldier and I can't even put things in a tiny pack.

As we started our trek I quickly pulled up a random song in my helmet. Praise be whoever or whatever the fuck gave me this godsend. Turning out to be a Manowar track, I hummed the tune with my vox off.

When they see us, they will run for their lives…