PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

Chapter XXXIII: How To Properly Shop Lift

I was standing on the roof of my apartment building again. It was some time during the night; the hazy orange-black sky stretched overhead, not a single star visible because of the city's light pollution. I tipped my head to the sky so my wavy, blonde hair tickled the back of my neck. I was alone. There were no dwarves and no Boromir. Just me and the starless night.

My heart twisted in my chest, and salty tears sprung to my eyes. I swallowed the feeling away. I had cried my share, and now I was fine. Just fine. Don't think about Boromir. Don't think about the Company. Don't think about Middle Earth. Just think about happy things. Smile and laugh. Think about coffee and the couch and rom coms and cute guys. I just had to keep smiling. Even if the world was breaking around me, I had to keep smiling.

Forcing my lips up into a weird half-smile half-grimace, I headed across the roof to the stairwell.

"So, you're just disappearing and reappearing without explanation again."

I stopped, my hand resting on the door handle. I looked over my shoulder and saw the shadowed outline of Jack.

I was glad it was dark so he couldn't see the purple orc blood on my face or the wound on my shoulder as I said, "We seemed to have developed the same hang out spot."

"I wouldn't say you hang out."

As he drew closer, I had to admit that Jack was damn good-looking. I'd like to think that the darkness was making him appear more attractive that he actually was, but, unfortunately, I knew that wasn't true. Damn you, good-looking people, damn you all.

"What are you doing, Ana?" asked Jack.

"The stars are pretty tonight."

Jack glanced up. "You can't see the stars."

"That's the idea."

I wrenched open the door and fled down the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. It was only when I reached the landing that I realized I didn't have my apartment key. I'd left it behind when I'd Skipped with Boromir. Sighing, I tried the handle, not really expecting it to work. To my surprise, the door swung open. I stared into my pitch-black apartment, my heartbeat speeding up. Did Karen and Nick forget to lock the door before they left? Was my home now infested with burglars, waiting to kill me and steal my valuables?

However, I would rather face a dark apartment full of burglars than Jack right then, so I stepped inside apartment and shut the door behind me. I drew the Sword Breaker from my riding boot, while my left hand fumbled for the light switch. I found it. There was a flash, and then illumination.

The apartment was much cleaner than I remembered. The laundry, which had been thrown all over was floor, was placed in the laundry basket for cleaning. The dirty dishes on the coffee table were gone and the floor had been introduced to a vacuum. Amongst all the newfound cleanliness, two figures were sleeping on my couch, their arms wrapped around each other. Nick lifted his head and blinked in the blinding light. Karen shifted uncomfortably but remained asleep.

"You didn't leave?" I asked as I shoved the Sword Breaker back into my boot.

"You're back." Nick slid off the couch, trying not to wake Karen, but ended up knocking her onto the floor anyway.

Karen sat up and looked about wildly. Then, she caught sight of me and gasped. "What's that on your face?"

"You waited?" I asked.

"Should we not have?" Karen peered at my face, but realizing that I might not want to talk about what had happened, she stopped asking.

"There's no telling how long I could have been gone for," I said. "Could have been minutes, could have been months."

"I was cleaning your apartment," said Karen. "It looks a lot better now."

"Even the dishes? Impressive."

"Well, yeah," said Karen, getting to her feet. "I had to throw away some of the lost causes."

"Thanks."

"Are you all right?" Nick took a tentative step towards me. "You seem kind of, uh, quiet."

My mouth stretched into a painful smile "What makes you think that? I'm as chirper as a songbird in the morning."

"You don't seem that happy," muttered Karen.

Nick elbowed her in the ribs and then glanced at me. "So, um, how'd it go?"

I headed to the kitchen. It was spotless. All the dirty dishes had been cleaned and put away. All the trash had been thrown out, and a new, clean bag was placed in the trashcan. I owed Karen big for this.

"I want some coffee," I said. "I'm exhausted. Have you ever fought orcs? I've fought orcs. Absolutely crazy, you know. They're big and they're ugly and they know how to fight. I spent most of the time running away as fast as I could, but sometimes I had to fight. Thank God, Elladan gave me the Sword Breaker, or I would be dead meat right now."

"Um…" Karen glanced at Nick.

"It's done then," said Nick, who knew me well enough to translate what I was saying. "The Fellowship survived."

"Most of it. Merry and Pippin were carried off by orcs—they'll meet Treebeard soon enough. I didn't see Frodo and Sam, but I assume they're alive and headed for Mordor."

"And Boromir?"

"You know what," I said. "I don't want coffee. I'm going to bed."

"And Boromir?" Nick refused to let it be.

"I think we should go." Karen caught hold of Nick's arm and pulled him towards the door.

I disappeared into the bedroom before Nick could say anything more to me. My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed onto the bed. Karen had even changed the sheets. Nick really lucked out with his girlfriend this time.

My eyes fluttered shut, and I feel asleep almost instantly. The dreams of orcs, bows, magic rocks and white cliffs consumed me. It was better to dream than to remember.

I think a week passed before I Skipped again. Maybe two weeks. I don't know. My memory is hazy of that time. Basically, it was a week of mourning. I spent a lot of time sitting on my couch, drinking hot chocolate, and thinking of Boromir.

My best friend. Gone. Just like that. God, life sucks.

I don't know how to describe my feelings to you. Some grief goes beyond words—but I guess you understand grief better than anyone. I just…I didn't want to be in Ohio right then. If that makes sense. I didn't want to be in Earth. I didn't want to be in Middle Earth either. I didn't think I could face the Fellowship after that. I would take one look at Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Sam, or Frodo and burst out in tears. And, well, you can imagine, depending on the time period, that would be the most awkward thing in the world. They would think I'd gone insane.

Okay, okay, yeah, I know, you don't have to say it. They already thought I'd gone insane.

Anyway, I'll give you the brief version of my mourning period: I woke up, drank some coffee and stared out the window, went to work (because I somehow managed to keep a job for this long), returned home, drank hot chocolate and moped about, went to bed and moped about before I fell asleep.

Yeah. That lasted for a week or two. Still not sure how long it was.

Nick tried to help me. He and Karen came to visit every other day, but I wasn't really in the talking mood. They didn't know what to do about my unhappiness. That was, of course, until Karen came up with the brilliant idea to take me shopping. And, well, who am I to say no to a shopping trip? Sometimes one just needs to buy a lot of things to get over one's feelings.

Karen and I spent the morning scourging the mall stores while my wallet burned a hole in my pocket. I bought some new shirts, some new jeans, and a new purse. And then, to Karen's delight, we headed into Victoria's Secret.

I've never been a cute underwear type of girl. Probably because I Skip, and it just isn't practical to be wearing lacey bras while running away from orcs. Karen, on the other hand, was absolutely thrilled with the sale going on at Victoria's Secret. She fawned over the cheaper-than-usual-but-still-expensive leopard print thongs, red polka-dot underwear, and, um, whatever that was.

"Isn't it so cute!" cried Karen, holding up a bra for me to see.

"It's zebra print," I said.

"Well, duh," said Karen. "That's why it's cute.

I shook my head. "It's not my thing. My friend Bonnie, however, won't wear any underwear unless it's zebra print."

"Okay…" Karen handed me the zebra print bra and then wandered over to some other underwear drawer to freak out over some pink lacey panties.

I watched her for a second and then lifted the zebra print bra to eye level and inspected it. Pink lace on the edges. Sufficient amount of padding. It was an A cup. Hey! How small did Karen think my chest was? I was a happy 32B, thank you very much.

"You!"

I lowered the bra and frowned, trying to figure out who had called me. And then it struck me. I was no longer standing in Victoria's Secret. I was in a tavern. Men were seated at wooden tables, holding their drinks and staring at me in confusion. A barmaid was holding a tray of empty mugs, her mouth hanging open. And, at the far end of the tavern, stood several soldiers of Rohan, prints of horses stamped across their metal chests and swords strapped to their sides. A hush had fallen over the tavern. No one was laughing, no one was drinking. All eyes were on me.

One soldier, taller than all the others with long, dark-blond hair, stepped forward. He pointed at me rather viciously and said, "I remember you."

I stared at him for a few seconds before recognition struck me. He was the Third Marshal of the Riddermark. Éomer, the nephew of the king of Rohan, who had caught me running through Middle Earth naked and thrown me in jail after I'd Skipped in the shower. Oh, I remembered that incident well. And, apparently, so did he.

"Hi," I said. "Long time no see."

Then, I threw the zebra-print bra in Éomer's face and ran for my dear life.

I jumped through the open window of the tavern—which would have been something extremely cool and totally out of an action movie, if I hadn't fallen butt-first into the mucky street below. I leapt up, sending mud and straw flying in all directions, and sprinted down the street as fast as my short legs could carry me.

Voices sounded behind me as the soldiers—namely Éomer—threw open the door of the tavern and chased after me.

"Halt!" he yelled.

"Like hell!" I cried, turning right down an alleyway. "You want to arrest me? Oh sure, I like going into captivity! Best thing ever! Why don't you join me and we'll have a party? It'll be fun!"

As I neared the end of the alleyway, someone grabbed my wrist from behind and spun me around, almost pulling my arm out of its socket. I found myself face to face with an enraged, red-faced Éomer.

"You run fast," I said, gasping for breath.

"What is this?" asked Éomer, shoving the zebra print bra in my face. "Is this some sort of weapon?"

I pushed the bra away and gawked at Éomer. "Weapon?" A slow grin spread across my face. "A weapon? Really? Oh that's good. Victoria's Secret should use it as a new advertising campaign."

Éomer frowned. "What do you find so amusing?"

"It's a bra," I said. "A bra. Please tell me you have bras in Middle Earth."

Éomer stared at me suspiciously. I sighed and took the bra from him. Immediately, he reached for his sword, ready to defend in case I used the "weapon" to attack, I rolled my eyes and fitted the bra against my chest.

"Why does stuff like this end up happening around?" I asked, genuinely curious, then I explained, "A bra is used to support boobs, and make them look bigger in the case of push-up bras. Do you really not have any here?" I shook my head. "These poor women."

Éomer snatched the bra from my hands. "Do not be so ridiculous."

"I'm not," I said. "That's really what it's used for." I paused and stared at the black and white print bra for a moment. "You know, I never paid for that. Well, I supposed that's one way to shop lift."

"What is this devilry that you speak of?" asked Éomer.

"Girl stuff. Your delicate male ears wouldn't be able to handle it. Well." I stepped away from Éomer. "Well, it was nice chatting with you again. We really always meet under such weird circumstances, huh?" I gave him an awkward wave before turning and sprinting down the street.

"Do not even try." Éomer grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me back around to face him. "You cannot escape so easily. Who do you take me for—a fool?"

"I really just want to go," I said. "I don't have any business with Rohan. I'm just passing through."

Éomer snorted. "Indeed."

He kept a firm grip on my shoulder as he steered me back down the muddy street towards the tavern where the other soldiers were waiting, smirks on their broad faces. I tried to move out of Éomer's grasp, but he was much taller and much stronger than I was. Well, that meant it was time to do what I do best—distract people. Then maybe he would slip up, giving me a chance to flee.

So," I asked, "how long has it been since we last saw each other? A year? Two years?"

"Two months," said Éomer.

"Oh, not too long then." I gulped. "I have terrible sense of time, you know. A day is a year and a year is a day. It sucks. When I have kids—if I have kids, I should be saying—I'd make sure they always keep track of time. Never be late and never be early. Always be exactly on time. My little kids would be the most punctual kids you'd have ever seen."

"What are you saying?" asked Éomer genuinely confused.

"Who is this?" asked a gruff-looking solider. He fingered the hilt of his sword, ready to defend if I were to attack. (The thought of me attacking him still makes me laugh. He was twice my size and a well-trained soldier.)

"Peace, Éothain," said Éomer. "She won't harm us. She's not capable of harming us."

"Aw, Éomer," I said. "We've only met twice, and you know me so well."

"Silence."

I tried to escape his grasp one more time, but Éomer held on. Fighting back a sigh of defeat, I turned to the other soldiers and smiled weakly. "How you doing?"

"What is her crime?" asked the thinnest of the soldiers

"Inappropriate public display," said Éomer.

"I ran through town naked," I said. "It was an accident though, I swear."

"And," said Éomer, ignoring me, "avoiding punishment for her crime."

"That wasn't my fault," I said. "I fully intended to serve my time—even if the food you serve in Rohan prisons is terrible."

"I have seen the food they give to prisoners," said the only clean-shaven soldier. "I do not fault her for fleeing the cell."

"See, he gets it," I said. "I'm Ana, by the way, Ana Stonbit. And, you guys are?"

"Gaenry, son of Gaenrin." (A skinny, but kind of cute man with a short black beard.)

"Dorthin, son of Dunethin." (Tall, solid-built with a light brown beard.)

"Taysend, son of Taylin." (Beardless, blond-haired man.)

"Do not act so friendly with her—she is a criminal." (That would be Éothain.)

"But she is little more than a child," said Gaenry.

"Hey," I said indignantly. "I'm twenty-one-years-old. I think that qualifies as more than a child."

"Twenty-one?" Taysend's eyes widened in surprise. "That is only two years younger than me. But you are so small."

"I'm a dwarfish woman according to…" I stopped myself and tried to ignore the spasm of pain that filled my chest.

"A dwarf?" wondered Dorthin aloud. "I have never seen a dwarf let alone a dwarfish woman. I was not aware dwarf women existed. I always supposed that dwarfs sprung from the stone when they were born and then return to the stone when they die."

"What kind of bullshit is that?" I cried. "Of course there are dwarf women. I don't know any, but I do know dwarves. I'm the pet of Thorin Oakenshield, and I know his two sister-sons Fíli and Kíli. So, obviously, female dwarves exist."

"The pet of Thorin Oakenshield?" asked Taysend.

"It's a long story."

Gaenry frowned. "She speaks in riddles."

"She speaks in lies," said Éothain before turning to address Éomer. "You cannot let her continue speaking in such blatant falsehoods."

"Man," I said, waving a hand vaguely in Éothain's direction. "Éomer and I are tight. You can't turn him against me."

Éomer shook me roughly by the shoulder. "Were you not the one who jumped out the tavern window when you saw me again? Is that your definition of 'tight'?"

"I, um, mistook you for someone else."

Éomer raised his eyebrows. "If you say so."

"So what do you intend to do with her?" asked Taysend. "She is just a woman."

"Hey!" I said. "That's called sexism, that is."

"I will leave her in the town jail for a few days," said Éomer. "Until she has fulfilled her sentence."

"I don't like jail," I said. "The people in there—they eat little people like me for breakfast."

Éomer held me by the shoulder and started to steer me in the direction of the prison.

"I'm friends with Thorin Oakenshield," I said quickly. "Does that have any meaning to you?"

Éomer continued to steer me towards the jail.

"Okay. No. Let's see…I know Aragorn. I know Elrond. I know Galadriel. I know Gandalf."

Pause. Elrond turned me to face him, his eyebrows narrowed so that wrinkles formed between them. He was looking at me with such intensity that I actually took a step backwards, wondering if he'd finally snapped and was going to attack me. But Éomer only asked, "You know Gandalf Stormcrow?"

A wave of relief washed over me and I nodded enthusiastically. "Gandalf and me go way back. We defeated some trolls together, and we partied with dwarves in Hobbiton together. And we fled goblins together. We're practically best friends!"

"Can you contact him?"

I blinked. "Er. Maybe. Why"

Éomer glanced over his shoulder at the other soldiers. They were standing a few yards away, just out of earshot. Slowly, Éomer's blue eyes met mine and, in a low intense whisper, he said, "We are in desperate need of Gandalf's aid."

"Um." I bit my bottom lip. "Well, I guess maybe I could possibly get in contact with him depending on what sort of situation you need his help for maybe. Gandalf is a very busy wizard."

Éomer nodded grimly. "Our king has fallen under the influence of the great shadow. Orcs roam freely across our lands, killing at will. We do not have the enough men to defend all our people, and many of our villages have already fallen. I have tried to reason with my uncle, but mere words can no longer touch him. We need Gandalf the Gray."

"Right." I swallowed, unable to help the feeling of guilt that washed over me. Rohan was in trouble, serious trouble by the look in Éomer's eyes. He was trusting me because I was a friend of Gandalf's; he honestly believed I could pass a message to Gandalf and save the people of Rohan. I didn't want to lie to him. Even if the Third Marshal of the Riddermark and I had our past (and current) issues, he was a nice guy. I don't particularly like lying to nice people. But if the other option was going to jail, I was going to lie. "I can get Gandalf the message. Meanwhile…" I glanced up at Éomer. "Take me with you."

He sighed, the intensity slowly fading from his eyes. "You say that because you do not wish to serve the remainder of your sentence."

"Well, yes, and because I want to see this king of yours."

"Why?"

I crossed my arms. "I am the best friend of Gandalf the Gray. Are you going to trust me or are you going to leave me behind like some common criminal?"

"You are some common criminal," muttered Éomer.

"But that's beside the point." I waved away his words as if they meant nothing. "Come on, Éomer, you were going to the tavern, right? I bet I can beat you in a drinking competition."

Éomer opened his mouth to reply, but at that very moment, a rider on a gray horse and Rohan armor came galloping through the streets. He caught sight of Éomer and pulled sharply on the reins. The horse whinnied and came to a halt, stomping on the ground a few feet away from where Éomer and I stood. The rider was a mess. He was clutching his arm, which was dripping blood, and there was dent in his metal helmet.

"Westeld," said Eomer by way of greeting.

"My lord." Westeld staggered down from his horse as Dorthin and Éothain rushed forward to help him. "We were ambushed."

"Ambushed?" asked Éomer.

"By orcs."

Éomer's eyes widened. "Théodred."

Westeld nodded. "I couldn't help him… I-I barely managed to escape myself."

"Men," said Éomer, turning to his companions. "Get the horses. We depart at once."

Gaenry and Taysend sprinted through the street back towards the stables. Éothain grasped Westeld's arms, holding the man upright.

"Where is he?" asked Éomer.

"The Fords of Isen." It took all of Westeld's strength to remains standing.

Dorthin took over the job of supporting Westeld so that Éothain and Éomer could move out of my earshot and hold a quick counsel. A few minutes later, Gaenry and Taysend returned, astride two large horses, leading three others behind them. Éomer vaulted up onto a magnificent white mare as Dorthin copied his example. Éothain helped Westeld back onto his gray horse.

"Wait!" I stepped forward, wary to the stomping hooves. "You said you'd take me with you." It was probably a stupid thing to request, but they were the only people I knew in the town, and I really did want to meet the King of Rohan who had fallen under shadow. Perhaps I couldn't contact Gandalf, but maybe I could make up for lying by helping the king in some way.

"Her?" asked Éothain darkly as he swung up onto his own horse. "She is a criminal. She should be in prison."

"She is a friend of Gandalf Stormcrow." Éomer glanced at me for a good, long moment. "Fine. Get your horse and follow."

"I don't have a horse," I said. "And I don't know how to ride."

Éomer scowled. "You are an inconvenience." He reached down and grabbed me by the back of my shirt. He scooped me up onto the horse behind him, causing me to squeak and wrap my arms tightly around his waist.

"Hold on." He kicked the sides of his mare, and the horse leapt forward.

I wrenched my eyes shut and tried to pretend I was anywhere but on the back of a horse. However, the beat of the hooves and the sound of other horses moving around me was too much to ignore. I pressed my face against Éomer's shoulder and cried, "This is why I hate horses!"

"Why did you ask to ride with us then?" asked Taysend.

"There are more pressing matters than your hatred of horses," said Éomer. "If you prove to be a burden, then I will cast you off the horse and you can find your own way to Edoras."

I groaned. "I should've just gone to jail."