PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

Chapter XII: How To Change The Future

A snowplow had been down the road, and I Skipped into a pile of dirty snow in the gutter. Which, let me tell you, is a less than pleasant experience. And, if things weren't bad enough, a car raced by and sprayed muddy ice water onto the bottoms of my pants.

"Thanks! Try being a little ruder next time!" I shouted. Of course, the driver couldn't hear me but shouting made me feel better.

I slid out of the snow pile, trying and failing to brush some of the filthy snow off the wool pants Bofur had given me. When I realized this was a losing cause, I started making my way across the parking lot back to the shopping center. I was muddy, wet, and dressed in Middle Earth clothing. God, I must have looked a mess.

"Look, Mommy!" cried some little boy, tugging on the sleeve of his mother's winter coat and pointing at me.

With a slightly strained smile, I waved at the mother. "The Renaissance Fair is in town. You should go check it out!"

She leaned over and hissed to her son. "Hush, it's rude to point." Then she straightened up, probably to apologize to me, but it was too late, I was already gone.

I stood over a tomb.

I know what you're thinking. What a great transition: snow-covered parking lot to a stone-cold tomb. Urg. Such is my life.

The Skip had dumped me inside a dwarven hall, I was sure of that. The walls and doors were made of gray stone, marked with the hard lines and zigzags of dwarven architecture. Other than a thin hole in the ceiling that allowed a thin ray of light to strike the tomb, the chamber was dark. And, of course, there was not another living being in sight.

Sighing, I sat down on the tomb and crossed my legs. Mayhap someone would show up eventually. My Skips seemed to be landing in very specific, purposeful locations recently. Before, I had Skipped to anyplace and anytime in Middle Earth. But now I had been spending a lot of time with the Company and the Fellowship. Chances were one of them would show up soon. Or I would just Skip back home eventually, the Skips didn't like leaving me to die. Anyways, I didn't fancy walking around strange mountain caves. My legs were exhausted from the long march up the Misty Mountains, and honestly, I didn't feel like taking one step.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I began to realize what horrors were in the room with me. Skeletons. At least forty of them. And judging by their height and build, they were the skeletons of dwarves. Their empty eye sockets watched my every move, and they seemed to be grinning at me, their deformed jaws laughing even with arrows sticking out of their skulls and chests.

The closest skeleton to me was holding a metal bucket and sitting on the side of a broken well. His skull was tilted to the side and he smiled at me maliciously.

"What you looking at?" I asked, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down my spine when I looked at him. "My gorgeous face? It looks better than yours."

No response.

"At least I'm alive."

Still no response.

"You know," I said, stretching my arms over my head. "It's kind of homey in here once you get used to the dead bodies. I can understand why you chose to die here. If there was a nicer place for a dwarf to die, I have yet to see it."

Silence.

"Jeez, I'm trying to make conversation here." I crossed my arms. "Conversation is a two way thing. We need effort from both sides."

"You have lost more of your mind than I thought."

I screamed and fell off my seat. A very reasonable reaction. "You're not supposed to speak, Mr. Skeleton!"

"She has lost her mind," said another voice. An elf voice.

Actually, when I thought about it, both the voices seemed familiar. I turned and saw that Boromir and Legolas stood in the doorway of the chamber, wide grins on both their faces.

"That wasn't nice," I said, getting to my feet and brushing some dirt off my pants. I paused and lifted my head to stare at the two of them. They both seemed to be whole and unharmed—Legolas was still a pretty boy and Boromir was still Boromir. A wide grin spread across my face. I wanted to run to them and hug them, but I was too stunned to move. I stood beside the tomb, managing to say three words: "You're alive."

"Yes," said Boromir slowly. "I do not recall dying."

"I suppose all this coming and going addles your mind," added Legolas.

"What are you two looking at?" Gimli shoved his way between Legolas and Boromir. He froze as he entered the room, his brown eyes growing wide.

"Hey, Gimli!" I beamed at him. "You're alive too. This is great!"

"Balin," said Gimli softly.

"Huh?" I pointed at myself. "No, I am Ana. Balin is a little grumpy dwarf with a white beard."

"Balin!" Gimli sprinted forward and clutched the edges of the tomb I had been sitting on only moments before. Tears spilled out of the corners of his eyes, and Gimli knelt before the tomb, moaning something in Khuzdul that, if I remember correctly, had something to do with Balin passing into the halls of his great stone fathers.

"What is it? What do you see?" Gandalf strode into the chamber with the four hobbits and Aragorn following close behind him. They were alive. All of them. I almost started crying right then and there.

Gandalf caught one look at me, let out a heavy sigh, and then strode forward to read the runes carved into the tomb. The irritation drained from his face, and he looked almost tired as he spoke, "Here lays Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria."

"Balin?" My voice squeaked on the name. "This is Balin's tomb." I stepped away from the rock, my eyes wide and my chest twisting with pain. His face flashed in my mind—curling white beard, red belt, round nose, warm smile. "You're telling me I sat on his tomb… Balin, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—I didn't know it was yours!"

"Hush," said Gandalf, placing a hand on my shoulder to silence me. "We have entered Moria in secret. We must to remain undetected if we are to pass through safely."

Slowly, using the back of my jacket sleeve, I covered my mouth and stared up at Gandalf. "Moria? We're in Moria?"

"Yes."

"You didn't take the Gap of Rohan?"

Gandalf watched me carefully and then said, "You told me not to take the Gap of Rohan."

He was probably testing me, and I probably should have been more careful with my answer, but at that moment, all I could think was that I'd done it. I'd really done it. The Fellowship was safe. I'd saved them. A wide grin spread across my face. "Really? Thank God, you would have died if you took the Gap of Rohan."

"We would have died?" Aragorn's dark eyes flashed with concern. "And how do you know that?"

It was only then that I realized my mistake. I didn't know a damned thing about time travel, but probably the less I said, the better. I needed to get a grip and stop screwing up like this. "Uh, um, you know what? It doesn't matter. You didn't take the Gap of Rohan. That's what matters."

The Fellowship stared at me.

"If you have knowledge of the fate of Middle Earth," said Gandalf, "you should share it with wiser minds so that we may reach a solution together."

I shook my head. "I can't. I really can't."

"We are alive," said Aragorn finally. "That is what matters, Gandalf."

Gandalf would probably have pushed me for more information if it hadn't been for Aragorn's words. Briefly, I thought Gandalf would push the matter, but the wizard only said, "Yes, we are alive. But now we face the darkness of Moria. Here, an even more terrible fate may await us."

"What is this place?" asked Boromir, looking around the chamber.

"Nowhere good." Pippin eyed the skeleton by the well.

"Be careful," said Boromir. "That one talks."

I glared at him and Legolas, while they snickered at their inside joke.

"There is a book," said Merry, pointing to one of the skeletons. A beaten and battered tome lay beneath the bony fingers, clutched against the exposed ribcage.

"Perhaps we can know what happened here," said Aragorn.

Gandalf carefully extracted the book from the skeleton's fingers. He flipped through the dusty pages, skimming the Khuzdul runes. Standing on tiptoe, I saw that some of the pages were torn and others were splattered with dried, browned blood. I swallowed back bile.

"How have you fared since we last saw you, Ana?" asked Aragorn while Gandalf skimmed the tattered book.

I hesitated. "When did you last see me?"

"When we were climbing Caradhras," said Merry. "Do you not remember?"

"When was the last time for you?" asked Frodo.

"Uh…" The last time I saw them, they were being killed by the horde of orcs after taking the Gap of Rohan. But obviously they didn't remember that. "Well, uh…"

"You were a pain to climb Caradhras with," said Boromir suddenly. "I had to carry you for parts and then when Saruman tried to bring the mountain down upon us, you Skipped away and avoided the difficult parts of the journey."

It seemed that, once again, events had changed for them but not for me. In their memories, I had not made the four-day journey with them down the mountain and towards the Gap of Rohan. Instead, I had Skipped away during the avalanches of ice and snow. I felt a little annoyed by that. After all, I worked my legs to the point of exhaustion for four days but now got none of the credit in the eyes of the Fellowships. Still, at least they were alive.

I swallowed and shot Boromir a small thankful smile. "Oh yeah, that was the last time I saw you guys."

"Here," said Gandalf, saving me from explaining any further. The wizard had paused at a page some two-thirds of the way through the tome. "I cannot make out many of the words, but this is what the parts I can decipher say: 'Years since…ready sorrow…yesterday being the tenth of November. Balin, Lord of Moria, fell in Dimrill Dale. He went alone to look in Mirrormere. An orc shot him from behind a stone. We slew the orc, but many more came…from east up the Silverlode… We rescued Balin's body... A sharp battle—we have barred the gates but doubt if…can hold them long. If there is…no escape it will be a horrible fate to suffer, but I shall hold.'"

"That is ominous," murmured Legolas.

"There is more," said Gandalf. "'We cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken the bridge and the Second Hall. Frár and Lóni and Náli fell there bravely while the rest… Mazarbul.'"

"We are in the Chamber of Mazarbul," said Aragorn.

"'Mazarbul' means 'records'," translated Gimli for us non-Khuzdul speakers.

"We are in the north end of the Twenty-First Hall." Gandalf turned back to the book and read, "'We still…but hope'—I cannot read this part—'Óin's party went five days ago, but today only four returned. The pool is up to the wall at west-gate. The Watcher in the Water took Óin—we cannot get out. The end comes soon. We hear drums, drums in the deep."

"Drums?" Merry looked at the doors nervously.

"Balin." My voice was uneven, and I clasped my hands together to stop them from shaking. "And Óin? Who else came here?"

"Ori too," said Gimli. "Along with Frár, Lóni, and Náli."

"All of them?" I said. I didn't know the last three, but of course, I knew the dwarves of the Company. Their faces swam before my eyes. "Ori too? How could this happen?"

"Ori wrote this recount," said Gandalf.

I blinked and turned to stare at the deformed skeleton from which Gandalf had taken the book. I couldn't see it. The lopsided skull didn't match with the kind dwarf who had learned knitting from his grandmother. "No. Th-th-that—"

I never finished speaking. My words were brought short by the clang of metal striking metal. It took me a second to figure out what had happened. The eternally curious Pippin had touched hand of the skeleton by the well, and it had lost its balance. The Fellowship watched in horror as the corpse toppled backwards, dragging with it and metal bucket that had been placed beside it. Down through the well the skeleton went, the bucket clanging against the metal walls and the sound ringing through the mines below.

We stood in silence, waiting, listening.

"That cannot have gone unnoticed," said Aragorn.

"Fool of a Took!" cried Gandalf, rounding on the small hobbit. "You have doomed us all!"

"I did not mean to." Pippin bowed his head in shame.

"Quiet." Aragorn stood still, his head cocked to the side, listening intensely. "Can you hear it?"

Legolas frowned. "Drums."

"Drums?" asked Sam. "Why are there drums?"

"The door!" Boromir raced to the doors, the only exit from the chamber. He managed to get two steps into the corridor beyond before he leapt back into the room and slammed the wooden doors behind him. He saw the Fellowship watching him in silent horror and, with a sigh, he said, "They have a cave troll."

"Then we cannot delay," hissed Gandalf as he drew his sword.

Boromir, Legolas, and Aragorn sprang into action, grabbing pieces of wood and broken spears in an attempt to board up the doors.

My brain was still in shock. "Who are here? Why? What's going on?"

"We are under attack," said Boromir. "Goblins!"

I took a step backwards, staring at the half-barricaded doors. Icy horror was growing in my chest, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

This was not how it was supposed to go. Moria was supposed to be safe. Caradhras would freeze the Fellowship to death. The Gap of Rohan would result in a deadly ambush. Moria was supposed to be the safe option—but now, not even that gave the Fellowship safe passage. Goblins…and a cave troll?

Gandalf raised Glamdring, which glowed blue in the dark as the shrieks and snarls of goblins outside the barricaded doors grew louder. The hobbits clutching their daggers, Frodo's also shimmering with a pale blue light. As we cowered behind Gandalf, it occurred to me that I had a weapon. I pulled the Sword Breaker from my right boot and prayed to whoever might be listening that I could use it properly this time, that Boromir's lessons on the road to the Gap of Rohan could be put to some use.

Boromir drew his sword, while Aragorn strung his bow. Beside the men, Legolas aimed an arrow at the doors, and for once, I was glad for the elf's presence.

Gimli hopped on top of Balin's tomb and raised his axe in the air. "Let them come! There is still one dwarf in Moria who can take heads!"

"I don't like goblins," I said, clutching the Sword Breaker close to my chest.

"You would think," said Boromir not taking his eyes from the door. "That if fate should send us a girl from another world, they would at least send us one who does not hide behind the Halflings whenever danger is near."

"Well, sorry. I'll try to take fencing lessons or kick-boxing classes when I'm back in Ohio."

I saw Boromir's half-hidden smile. "Try not to die, Ana."

And with that, the doors shattered. The barricade the Fellowship had tried to make went crashing down, sending splinters in all direction, and then a giant, gray-faced cave troll stepped into the chamber, swinging his club. Goblins raced in after him, screaming terrible things in their dark language.

As if drawn to the Ring, the troll targeted on Frodo within seconds. It sniffed and charged toward the hobbits and me. I shrieked and, forgetting the weapon in my hand, sprinted to the other side of the room. A goblin lunged at me. Scimitar drawn—and then, Legolas shot it in the head with an arrow.

"Thanks!" I cried before running away from another goblin.

I cannot say this was my most heroic battle. In fact, it's probably in the running for one of the most pathetic fights I've ever been in. The scene kind of went like this: Boromir sliced off a goblin's head. I ran past him, screaming. Gimli cleaved an orc in two with his axe. I ran past him, screaming. Sam whacked a goblin the face with a frying pan. I ran past him, screaming. Aragorn saved Pippin from the end of a goblin's blade. I ran past them, screaming. Legolas shot the cave troll in the nose. I ran past him, screaming. Gandalf sliced open a goblin's chest. I ran past him, screaming.

Okay, okay, so I'm not exactly portraying the battle realistically, but I'm not going to describe in details how scared and sniveling I was, trying to stay alive in the midst of swords and axes. I was desperate and frightened and eventually I found a hiding spot behind a stone pillar.

"Come to join me, Ana?"

"Frodo!" I cried, turning to see the hobbit's pale face. "You decided to hide behind this pillar too?"

Just then, the troll's club slammed into the pillar. Rock and debris came crashing down on our heads. I dove to the left. Frodo dove to the right. The troll went right too.

"Ow!" I sat up and rubbed my head. "Frodo?"

I couldn't see him amongst the dust and rubble of the fallen pillar. There was a grunt. I spun around just in time to see a goblin bringing his sword down towards my skull. With a shriek, I lifted the Sword Breaker above my head. The comb caught the blade between its teeth. Remembering what I could of Boromir's lessons, I twisted. The sword was wrenched out of the goblin's hands and thrown to the ground two feet away.

"Ah!" I stared at the fallen blade. "Hey…hey, I did it! I—"

The goblin head-butted me.

Well, so much for my victory. I think Legolas killed the goblin as I staggered away, blinking rapidly until the world came back to normal. Then, as soon as I could see again, I went back to running away from anything that moved.

"Frodo!" cried Merry.

I spun around just in time to see the troll run Frodo through with a spear. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Frodo's eyes went very wide. He let out a low moan before, back pressed against the stone wall, sinking to the ground. He laid there, motionless, the spear still embedded in his side.

A cold fear struck me, followed by the image of Merry with an arrow buried in his temple, his unseeing eyes open wide.

Not again.

They could not die again.

I saved them. I had I saved them. Moria was supposed to be safe.

"Ana, look out!" Gandalf drove his sword through the chest of a goblin that was about to slice off my head.

"Thanks," I gasped.

"Do not just stand there!" roared Gandalf. "Do something! Run around screaming for all that I care, but do not stand there like an incompetent fool!"

I blinked. "Wha—?"

"We are in the middle of a battle! Move!"

That seemed to snap me out of it. I gripped the handle of the Sword Breaker. Only trembling a little, I said, "Gandalf, if there is anyone good at fleeing, it's me." And then, I ran.

The rest of the battle is hazy to me. Afterwards, Boromir told me that Legolas brought down the cave troll with his arrows, while the others finished off the remaining goblins. What I do remember was the stillness after the last orc let out a cry of pain and died beneath Gimli's axe. Amongst the piles of corpses, the Fellowship stood, panting for breath and looking at one another to make certain we were all okay. Sam was nursing a wound on his right forearm, and Gimli had been bashed on the head. But everyone was alive…except Frodo. Merry and Pippin rushed to Frodo's side, crying out his name and weeping for their fallen friend.

But to all our surprise, the hobbit sat up, unharmed by the spear, and rubbed his chest.

"I am fine," he said.

"How is this possible?" asked Aragorn.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Frodo opened his shirt to reveal the white, glittering chain mail beneath.

"Mithril," murmured Gimli.

"What's that?" I asked. (Always the ignorant one.)

"It is a type of armor made by the dwarves," said Gandalf. "Bilbo received a shirt of Mithril from Thorin as a reward for helping to defeat Smaug." Gandalf smiled at Frodo. "I supposed he has passed it on now."

Frodo nodded and closed his shirt again. As he was redoing the buttons, I caught a glimpse of the golden ring. For a second, I could not tear my eyes away, and I felt an irrational wave of irritation towards Frodo when the Ring was hidden again. Quickly, I shook my head and turned away. I had my own problems without adding the One Ring to them.

Boromir too, I noticed, had seen the Ring, but unlike me, he had not taken his eyes from the silver chain around Frodo's neck. I punched him lightly in the shoulder and said, "Did you see? I unarmed a goblin with the Sword Breaker."

At first, Boromir stared at me with unseeing eyes. He blinked and then gave me a fond smile. "So it is possible for you to learn. Hopefully, next battle, you will be able to stand your ground."

"I wouldn't go that far…"

"More goblins will come," said Aragorn, nodding toward the ruined doors of the Chamber of Mazarbul. "We must leave now."

The moment of relief was gone, and the Fellowship jumped back into survival mode.

"We must head for the Bridge of Khazad-dûm," said Gandalf. "It is the only way out."

The Fellowship trusted Gandalf without question. There was no time to patch up Sam and Gimli's wounds as Gandalf led the way out of the stone chamber. The path Gandalf chose descended deeper into the mines. Legolas and Gimli followed behind the wizard, and then the hobbits and I scurried after them with Aragorn and Boromir bringing up the rear. Every once in a while, we would hear the shrill cry of a goblin or the deep pounding of war drums, and Gandalf would change directions.

I don't remember how long we ran for; time tended to slip away in the darkness of Moria. A heavy fear had settled around the Fellowship. Their faces were pale in the dim light emitting from Gandalf's staff. We were being chased by goblins and trolls. Our lives were on the line. We could die at any second.

And I was smiling.

"This is a life or death situation," said Sam when he noticed my cheerful expression. "Now is not the time for your humor, Ana."

"I'm not being humorous," I said. "I'm happy. Frodo is alive. He didn't die. No one died. Nope. Not this time."

"We do not have time to look for your lost mind," said Boromir. He gave me a little push forward. "Quickly."

I took two stumbling steps forward before passing under an archway. The narrow corridor opened up into the vast caverns of Moria.

Now that is a sight worth seeing. I have been many places during my Skipping adventures. I have been to the halls of the Lonely Mountain with its endless of treasure. I have seen the sea of grass in Rohan. I have seen the awe-inspiring White City of Gondor and the elegant House of Elrond. They were all stunning. But Moria... Moria is a whole different playing field. The ceilings stretched so high that I could not see where they ended, and the pillars were thick, each one decorated with its own unique, intricate carvings and Khuzdul runes. The stone was filled with the deep memories of the dwarven race. And yet, the hall was empty and lifeless. The only movement came from the Fellowship and me, sprinting across the stone ground, our footsteps echoing beneath the endless ceiling. The hall was beautiful and terrifying all at once. So vast and so empty. That was Moria.

My sight-seeing was brought to an abrupt halt by the arrival of goblins.

It started with a single shrill cry. Then, a response sounded on the other side of the hall. And then again in another corner. Soon, the ear-shattering cries were everywhere. Like ants, the goblins swarmed over the hall. They bared their teeth and waved their weapons so we could see the sharp blades. In rapid speed, they drew closer to us. They did not attack, savoring our fear. The Fellowship drew into a tight circle. Gandalf and Frodo's swords shone through the darkness, the only light in this cold place filled with deformed, shrieking goblins.

"There is no way out," said Legolas.

My earlier bubble of happiness had faded, and I was faced with grim reality. Yes, Frodo had survived the cave troll, but now we were faced with an even larger danger. They would all die—Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Legolas, Aragorn, Gandalf, Boromir—and I would have to watch them all die. Again. Oh God, I couldn't do it. I couldn't. Skip me away at least so I wouldn't have to watch. Please.

The goblins had formed a complete circle around us. There was no way out. We were trapped, facing the pointy ends of their weapons. Pippin and Merry huddled together, clutching their daggers, while Gimli bared his teeth and growled at the goblins. It didn't matter. It was the end. Again.

And then, a low crack echoed through the hall.

The goblins froze. A silence fell over them. Their pale eyes widened with horror.

A red light shone brilliantly in the distance, lighting the far end of the hall.

"What is it?" asked Boromir.

A single shriek. And then, the goblins fled.

I have never seen goblins run as fast as they did right then. One moment, they were threatening to kill us, excited for the taste of our blood. The next, the Fellowship stood alone in a vast, empty hall, staring at the growing fires in the distance.

"Well," I said, "that was convenient."

"They got a good look at my axe," said Gimli, laughing.

"Or your face," muttered Legolas.

Aragorn stepped closer to Gandalf. He shared none of our humor and spoke in a quick, tense voice. "What is it? What new evil draws closer?"

Gandalf frowned, perhaps searching his memory. "Fire and shadow. We cannot fight this new evil." With sudden urgency, Gandalf spun around. "Run! Fly! The Bridge of Khazad-dûm is nearest!"

"What is it?" asked Boromir.

Gandalf was already running. "A balrog is come."