PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

Chapter XXVII: The Tower Of The Little Wizard

"So how did you come to Fangorn forest?" I asked.

Nick leaned against the trunk of the massive oak tree, while Pippin and I sat comfortably on the mossy ground. Merry, on the other hand, paced back and forward, shooting nervous glances at the trees.

"We were captured by orcs." Pippin shuddered, his expression growing dark at the memory. "They carried us into Rohan, bringing us to Saruman. One night, they argued amongst themselves." Pippin frowned. "I think there were two parties of orcs. Some hailed from Mordor and some from Orthanc. During the squabble, the orcs were attacked by men on horses. Merry and I fled into Fangorn forest where we met Treebeard."

"Saved by the big talking tree," I said.

Pippin nodded. "Ents."

"Yeah, we were brought here by Quickbeam." I glanced over at Merry, who was still pacing back and forth. "What's up with you?"

"We have to do something," said Merry. He wasn't looking at me but at the Ents swaying in a circle in the middle of the clearing.

"About…?"

"Saruman. His army marches towards Rohan and his evil spreads across the lands. The Ents have the power to stop him, yet they sit in the forest and do nothing."

"As long as he doesn't touch the forest, I don't think the Ents care," said Nick.

"But they have harmed the forest," said Pippin. "Saruman has been cutting down the trees to make way for his industry of war."

"Oh. I guess that's why Quickbeam called him metal-minded." Nick drummed his fingers against the trunk of the oak tree. "In that case, the trees should be rebelling. Why are they sitting around having an Entmoot? They should rise up and have their revenge."

"Ents do not work that way," said Merry. He made his voice deep and low like that of an Ent. "'Do not be hasty, Master Meriadoc.'" Merry snorted. "Hasty?"

I snorted. "Master Meriadoc?"

"That is my name," said Merry.

"Meriadoc? Really?"

"That is what I have always said," said Pippin. "Meriadoc is a grandfather name." He looked up at his friend. "Could you mother not name you something more modern?"

"Yes," muttered Merry. "Because Peregrin is so youthful."

"I like Peregrin," I said. "I kind of reminds me of parrot."

"A pigeon," said Nick.

"Excuse me," said Pippin. "But who is this person?"

"This person?" I glanced at Nick. He stood over Pippin, looking large and awkward in comparison to the hobbit. There had to be a good two and half feet difference in their heights. It was kind of ridiculous. Smiling, I turned back to Pippin and said, "That wonky giant is my Nick. I accidentally brought him with me."

"Your Nick?" Not-my-Nick scoffed. "I don't belong to anybody."

I pointed at myself and mouthed the word "mine" to Pippin. He nodded understandingly.

Nick rolled his eyes. "So, then, are you my Ana?"

"Nope. This is not a mutual relationship. I am the owner, you are the pet." A broad grin spread across my face. "You're kind of a like a dog. One of those big, skinny dogs."

"I am not." Nick turned to Merry. "Doesn't she look more like a dog than me?"

Merry, who kept shooting glances towards the Ents, turned to look at me properly. He nodded. "She would be a small and yappy dog."

"There you go," said Nick. "You're the dog."

"I'm already Thorin's dog. I can't have two owners."

"You're Thorin's dog?" asked Nick. "Is this a confirmed thing or your wishful thinking?"

"Nope. He actually agreed to it. Sort of."

"I still think it's your wishful thinking," said Nick.

I opened my mouth to respond. Then I stopped. Something had just occurred to me. It'd been almost two hours had passed since I'd been to the bathroom. I glanced left and then right. I didn't have my purse with me. I'd left it at the bowling alley. Oh shit.

Usually, when I was on my period, I was carefully to carry a purse with me everywhere I went, never taking it off so that if I did Skip, I wouldn't be in Middle Earth without something to help. But apparently two months Skip-free had made me lax, and now here I was in Fangorn forest without tampons or pads. Reason #112 why my life sucks.

"Nick…" I said, slowly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm in trouble."

Nick frowned. "How are you in trouble?"

"It's that time of the month."

At first, Nick didn't understand. He just stared at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. Then—like a bolt of lightning—comprehension struck him. His eyes went wide, and he actually took a step backwards, shaking his head.

"No. I don't want to deal with this. I have taken care of you and Bonnie enough times to know that this is a bad idea. I am not making an emergency shopping trip for you in the middle of the forest." He glanced over his shoulder and then said, "You know what? I'm going to go join the Entmoot. I'm not involved with this."

"Wait! Nick! Help me!" I cried, stretching out my hands to him.

Nick didn't help me. He marched across the clearing and joined the Ents standing around the gray stone. He sat down, crossed his arms, and ignored my plight.

"Damn him," I muttered.

"What do you mean?" asked Pippin. "What is 'that time of the month'?"

I turned to Pippin. Gradually, a smile crossed my face. "Pippin. I need your help."

"What do you need my help with?"

"You have to promise me that you won't run away like Nick. Before I can tell you what I need help with, you have to promise that you won't run away."

"Er…" Pippin glanced over at Nick.

"Well?"

"Um…"

"Promise me."

Pippin sprinted across the clearing faster than I'd ever seen him run. He joined Nick by the gray boulder, sitting down and pretending to hum with the trees.

"Damn," I said, crossing my arms. "It's not that bad!"

"What's not that bad?" asked Merry. (The only one who had not fled.)

"I have a problem," I said. "And I need help."

Merry stared at Nick and Pippin. I could see the debate running through his head. Finally, being the good hobbit that he is, Merry turned back to me and asked, "What is the problem?"

"You'll help me?"

"It would be cruel of me not to help a friend in need."

I snorted. "Tell that to Nick and Pippin."

"Why did they flee?" asked Merry hesitantly.

"It doesn't matter," I said, explaining as quickly as I could. "You promised to help. Okay? So, it's my time of the month and usually I'll just use a tampon. Well, since I Skipped and I didn't bring my purse with me, I don't have my extra tampons. But I'm starting to bleed through and need something to pad up the blood."

Merry stared. And stared. And stared. At last, he said, "I think I should go join Pippin and Nick by the rock."

"Merry, you promised! You have to help a friend in need!"

He stared to walk away, but I leapt up and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. "Wait! You have to help me!"

"I do not wish to have any part of that business."

"I'm bleeding! Help your eternally wounded comrade!"

"No!"

"You have to help me!"

"No! I do not!"

He tried to run away, but I pulled him backwards and somehow we both ended up falling to the ground. Merry tried to get up one more time, but I held on tight.

"Fine," cried Merry. "I'll help you. Just, please, let me go."

I did. Somewhat. I kept one hand on his cloak so he couldn't flee while I wasn't paying attention.

With a look of disgust on his face, Merry found a small rucksack on the ground and started rummaging through it.

"I don't know why guys always get grossed out by periods," I said. "It's perfectly natural."

Merry grimaced. Clearly, he'd rather talk about anything other than periods. Finally, He pulled a white undershirt from his rucksack. He handed it to me and snapped, "Use this."

I took the cotton shirt, and the moment I released him, Merry sprinted across the clearing to join the others. The shirt was scratchy and not very comfortable. I sighed. When on the road, a girl must make do.

Also, wipe that expression off your face. I know what you're thinking. And don't worry, I'm not going to give you the details about the whole shirt-as-a-pad thing. That's up there with the balrog in the memories that I'd rather forget.

I'm just going to move the story to when my good friend Nick remembered that he was supposed to be my good friend. He left Pippin and Merry sitting at the feet of the Ents and came to see how I was doing.

"Hey," he said, giving me a sheepish smile. "How you doing?"

"Some friend you are," I muttered. "I didn't want to ask poor Merry for help."

"He was learning a valuable life lesson," said Nick.

I glared up at him. I didn't find the joke funny. "Did you have fun with the Ents?"

"Well," said Nick, "there's only so much fun to be had when I can't understand a word they're saying."

"You seemed like you were having fun with Quickbeam earlier."

There might have been too much enthusiasm in my voice, because Nick looked at me oddly and then asked, "Do you want me to have fun?"

I poked a patch of moss with my index finger and refused to look up at Nick as I spoke. "It's just, I know you didn't have fun the first time in Middle Earth. How could you? You were in goblin town. And I know you still haven't gotten over that so I shouldn't want you to like Middle Earth."

I waited, but Nick said nothing so I took it as permission to keep talking.

"But it's hard. You're the first person in Ohio who I told about the Skipping. And I was excited because it meant I would finally have someone to talk to, to share my stories with, to tell my troubles too. Maybe my life wouldn't be so difficult. But you refuse to talk about Middle Earth with me. And I feel like it's something bad, something I should never speak of." Tears bit the corners of my eyes but I quickly blinked them away. "I've been Skipping since I was six. Middle Earth is a part of me. A secret part of me that I don't share often. But now that you know about it, I don't want to pretend it doesn't exist. It's me, you know?"

Finally, I lifted my gaze. Nick had his hands clasped in front of him and his head bent forward. His mouth was twisted into a grimace with what looked like regret, or maybe pity, in his brown eyes.

"Sorry." Nick sat down on the mossy ground in front of me. "I'm sorry, Ana."

I bit the insides of my cheeks and tried to smile. I failed miserably.

"It's beautiful here." Nick tilted his head back to stare at the Ents. I suppose they were

"I'll never be comfortable here," said Nick. "I just won't. I saw some of the worst of this world in goblin town. And you've told about the orcs and these dark lords, and I just can't see this place as anything but beautiful and horrifying. This place isn't a part of me like it is you, and I don't think it will ever be. I was made to live a boring, normal life." He glanced at me. "But I'm sorry for not thinking about what it means to you. I don't mind talking about Middle Earth with you—but please don't bring me here again."

My mouth twisted into a smile. "What I wouldn't give for a boring, normal life."

Nick snorted. "You wouldn't know 'boring' and 'normal' if they came up and introduced themselves."

"Would to."

Nick decided not to say anything. A gentle breeze swept through Fangorn, making the leaves rustle overhead. We sat side by side, watching the Ents sway back and forth.. It was clam and peaceful, but there was something missing from this picture. Both Nick and I felt it. We needed somewhere there to tell us when we were being stupid. We needed someone to tell us "boring" and "normal" was for losers. We needed someone to swear at the world when our lives sucked. We needed Bonnie.

Two hours later saw the end of Entmoot. According to Merry and Pippin, the Entmoot had one on for three days, and I thanked the Skip that Nick and I had only been present for the last few hours. Treebeard approached us, the forest floor quivering with each step he took. In the common tongue, Treebeard announced that the Ents had decided to go to war. As a wizard, Saruman should understand the importance and the sacredness of the forest; however, Saruman had neglected Fangorn and even destroyed it. It was time for the Ents to pass judgment on the treacherous wizard.

As the Ents prepared to march, Merry and Pippin climbed onto Treebeard's shoulders. It was a long walk to Isengard, and us little people couldn't keep up with the Ents. As the Ents who had brought us to the Entmoot, Treebeard and Quickbeam were responsible for us.

Nick happily sat on the branches of Quickbeam, but when Quickbeam offered his hand to carry me, I flat out refused. "I'll walk to Isengard."

"You will be late," said Quickbeam. "You cannot walk as fast as an Ent, and you will miss all the fighting."

"That's a good thing," I said. "I'll come when all the dangerous parts are over."

"She's kind of a coward," Nick explained.

"Kind of? I am a coward, a coward and proud."

"What problem is causing you to talk so hastily?" A tall Ent with smooth, dark brown bark came to a stop beside us. His bark-face crinkled as he frowned.

"The little one will not ride on an Ent," said Quickbeam. "She does not like high places."

"She does not like high places?" asked the Ent. "That is an odd thing to dislike. If you stand, will you not be afraid?"

"I'm not that tall," I said. "I just don't like high place where if I fall, I will meet a painful end."

"You will not 'meet a painful end' if you ride on my shoulders," said Quickbeam. "I will hold you up."

I stared up at Quickbeam's shoulders. It hurt my neck too look up that high. "Nope. No, I'm good. I'll walk."

"I will not let you fall," said the tall Ent. "I walk sturdily and my pace is even. Quickbeam is too hasty for an Ent. In his haste, he might trip and fall. But I am well-paced. You will be safe on my shoulders."

I eyed his shoulders, where the branches protruded. He did look a little bit safer than Quickbeam to ride. I didn't really want to walk to Isengard. Besides, if I did walk, an Ent might accidentally step on me, and then I would suffer a painful end anyway. "All right," I said. "We'll try this."

"I am Beechbone," said the Ent.

"I'm Ana. Nice to meet you."

He held out his hand, and hesitatingly, I stepped on the palm of bark and branches. As he lifted me to his shoulder, the fear struck. I'd planned to jump fro the palm to the branches all cool, calm, and collected, but now that I was in the air, all sense drained out of me. I sat on his palm, paralyzed with fear.

"I can't move," I said.

Beechbone sighed (which was a weird, creaking sound coming from an Ent). Using his other hand, he caught me between two branch-fingers, lifted me by the back of the shirt, and carefully placed me on his right shoulder. I wrapped my arms around the nearest branch and clung onto it as tightly as I could.

"This is not funny!" I wailed.

"I think it's immensely funny," said Nick.

"You are a funny little creature," added Beechbone.

"They are all funny creatures," said Quickbeam fondly. "They like to scamper on the ground and yell words at each other. It is adorable."

It took me several deep breaths to calm down. It wasn't too bad, I tried to convince myself. Beechbone's shoulders were wide, and if I leaned back a little, I couldn't see the ground at all. Once I had calmed down a little, I said, "I like the Ents. They think I'm adorable. No one ever calls me adorable."

"I think they mean adorable like in the way mice are adorable," said Nick.

I scowled at him. "You're raining on my parade."

"Bring an umbrella."

As the Ents marched south, Quickbeam, Beechbone, Nick, and I chatted. We talked about Ohio, about what kind of trees grew in Fangorn, about why Nick hated each meat, about how the Ent-wives disappeared long ago. Quickbeam (despite being ridiculously slow by human standards) spoke much quicker than Beechbone. Every word that came from Beechbone's mouth was tediously long and drawn out. Sometimes, I wanted to shout "Hurry up!" but then, I'd remember that I was riding on his shoulders and he could very easily drop me if he wanted.

Eventually, the forest faded away, and the land became rough and blackened, charred stumps where trees used to be. Quickbeam and Beechbone's voices grew thicker, and I wondered if they were trying not to cry.

When we reached the borders of Isengard, I peered out over the stone wall, (which was tall but not as tall as Beechbone) into the home of the treacherous wizard. Orcs ran across the barren land, shouting cruel things in the black speech and rushing to retrieve weapons with which to fight the Ents. There was crack in the earth, revealing Saruman's mines, in which industry roared, the furnaces burning bright. Orthanc was the name of the impenetrable black tower in the center of the Ring of Isengard, its spires stretched high into the gray sky.

"Saruman." Treebeard's voice rumbled through Isengard. "We have come. We have come to speak with you."

For a moment, I didn't know to whom Treebeard was talking. Then, a man in white robes appeared at a balcony in the middle of the stone tower. He was old; his long hair and beard both pure white in color. But he was not bent over or wearied by age. There was something about the old man that reminded me of Gandalf—the same sense of power lurking behind their weathered appearances. But Saruman presented that power openly, while Gandalf kept his hidden under his gray cloak and blue hat. (Though, I supposed Gandalf cloaks were white now. It was hard to keep track.)

"Fangorn," said Saruman, his voice had a honey-sweet tone that instantly made me feel pity for him. "What business have you with me? You are far from the borders of you forest. Go back and bother me no more."

"The borders of the forest once reached this far," said Treebeard. "When last I passed by, the trees reached Orthanc. They were young trees whose voices were filled with joy and life. But when I came this way once more, they were gone. Blackened by your handiwork."

"These are not your lands, Fangorn," said Saruman. "I have the right to work my lands as I wish. Go back to your forest and tend to the trees."

I nodded my agreement. Saruman was just trying to protect his home from the growing might of Sauron. Nick seemed to agree with Saruman as well, which I found strange because Nick almost always supported the protection of trees. Even back home, he was part of an environmental protection group. It wasn't until much later, when I was discussing this story with Aragorn, that I learned that Saruman had the ability to persuade people with only the magic of his voice.

Treebeard, thankfully unaffected by Saruman's magic, turned to the rest of the Ents. "The little wizard will not be reasoned with. He sits high in his tower and tries to make himself tall. But a little creature sitting on the mountain top is still a little creature."

A deep roar rose up amongst the trees. At first, I thought it was their battle cry, but no—they were laughing at Saruman, they were laughing at the little wizard. The Ents started forward, and one slow foot at a time, they began to lay siege to Isengard. They grabbed pieces of the stone wall and hurled the boulders at the orcs, who scampered about the ground, screaming and panicking. Piece by piece, the Ents tore down Saruman's wall. The orcs tried to fight back, but they were no match for the trees.

"Ana," Nick called out to me. "Isn't it good to be tall?"

I glanced down and felt my stomach twist. "Don't remind me."

"Do not harm the trees," rumbled Quickbeam to the orcs below, "or the trees will harm you."

"It is good," said Beechbone. "The little wizard flees from us."

"Don't move so much," I cried, clinging to the branches of Beechbone's shoulder. "I'll fall—can you just stand still and let the other Ents do the fighting?"

"There is a noisy little one in my ear," said Beechbone. He hurled a massive boulder at a piece of heavy machinery. The metal contraption bent and then toppled over beneath the weight of the stone. "Would the little one like to throw a boulder too?"

I wrenched my eyes shut and buried my face in my hands. "Stop moving!"

"For the trees!" roared Quickbeam.

"I don't like talking trees," I groaned. "They don't listen."

"Do not worry, little one," said Beechbone. "I will not let you fall—"

Beechbone never got to fulfill his promise. Saruman stepped out onto the balcony of his tower and pointed his white staff right at Beechbone. After some muttered words, a jet of fire shot out from the end of his staff. Flames consumed Beechbone for a moment. Beechbone howled in pain, while I clung to his shoulder, trying to blow the flames away from me. But the fire spread from his shoulders to his chest, eating away at the dark wood.

"Put it out! Put it out!" I cried.

Beechbone howled again. I felt something grasp me by the shirt, and then Beechbone lifted me from his shoulder. I screamed, but Beechbone's fingers kept a firm hold on me as he staggered about, trying to put out the flames. Finally, his legs giving out beneath him, he collapsed to the ground and I went crashing down with him.

Even as he was falling, Beechbone managed to safely place me on the ground. The flames covered his bark, red, scorching, and angry. As he lay on the ground, a deep roar exploded from within him. His brown eyes stared up at the gray sky, but they no longer saw anything.

The other Ents echoed his last cry. The noise of their agony rolled through Isengard—filling the ears of Ents, hobbits, humans, orcs, and wizard alike. No one could ignore it. The Ents went wild. Orcs shrieked and tried to flee the Ring of Isengard, but the Ents had no mercy left within them. Quickbeam almost captured Saruman, but the wizard fled the balcony, scampering back into his tower.

"Beechbone!" I tried to get close to him, but the heat of the flames kept me away. I screamed until my throat was hoarse. "Beechbone! Get up! You're a frigging Ent of Fangorn. I know you're slow, but you're not so slow that you can be taken down by a little fire. Get up and call him 'that little wizard'. Beechbone!"

"Ana, look out!" cried Nick.

I glanced up in time to see him jump down from Quickbeam's hand. He landed on top of me, knocking me to the ground just as an orc swung his axe and almost took off my head.

Skip.

I was sitting in a plastic chair. Someone screamed. There was a heavy thud, and the sound of something heavy rolling.

I opened my eyes and saw that a woman in a pink dress had dropped her bowling ball, her dark eyes fixed on me. I looked around. Her husband and two kids were staring at me as well. They seemed to be at a loss as to what to say. Nick sat on the chair next to mine with a puzzled frown on his face.

"Where are the trees?" he asked. "Where's the orc? Did Beechbone survive?"

"Sorry," I said to the family as I got to my feet. "We thought this lane was free. Our mistake. We'll be going now." I dragged a very confused Nick away from the family and to the counter where the employee looked surprised to see us. Somehow, through the Entmoot and the attack on Isengard, we had kept our exceedingly flattering bowling shoes on.

"I hope they kept my purse," I said. "Because damn, I need some tampons."

"What happened to the trees?" asked Nick, still looking around.

"We Skipped."

"Just like that."

"Yeah. Just like that."

"And Beechbone?"

I turned to Nick and smiled. "Beechbone survives the battle, returns to Fangorn with Treebeard and Quickbeam. Beechbone tends to his trees for the rest of his life and continues living at his own pace and speaking extremely slowly."

Nick frowned. "I don't think it ended like that."

"Yes, it did."

He didn't argue.

Note: All girl-transported-to-Middle-Earth stories have to deal with periods at some point. It's just one of those things that needs to be addressed.