PART ONE: ANACHRONISM

Chapter XLV: The Sound Of Wedding Bells

"Tonight, we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail, the victorious dead."

Théoden lifted his golden cup in a toast and the brought it to his lips. He gulped down the wine before holding a moment of silence, his head bowed. Then, as the crowds began to move towards the kegs of ale, Théoden turned to me and said, "What are you doing here…" His voice trailed off and he glanced at Éomer.

"Ana Stonbit," provided Éomer.

"Ana Stonbit," said Théoden, nodding. "What are you doing here, Ana? And who have you brought with you?"

"These are my friends, Bonnie Mitchell and Nick Hamersley." I gestured to both of them. "I have an unfortunately habit of showing up in random places at bad times—your nephew can attest to this—and unfortunately, this time I brought my friends with me.

Bonnie made a small noise of protest at the use of the word "unfortunately", while Nick nodded with my words in agreement.

We had Skipped there not five minutes ago, right before King Théoden began his speech. Some of the riders, the one who had never seen me before, had raised their weapons, but Éomer had stopped them. He had moved me and my friends to the side of the hall, promising to introduce us to the king after the mourning ceremony was over.

"My nephew has vouched for you," said Théoden. "I trust his judgment, and so I welcome you into my halls."

"Thank you for your generosity." I had to bite back as comment about how Eomer not wanting to throw me in prison was a great change in pace for us. (See, I was learning to hold my tongue when the situation calls for it.)

Théoden left me standing at the side of the hall with Éomer, Nick, and Bonnie. Bonnie's eyes were wide as she took in the Golden Hall, with its carved pillars and ceiling and decorative green and gold banners.

I had seen the Golden Hall numerous times during my stay in Edoras. Instead, I looked at the Rohirrim who filled the hall, searching for people I knew. There were some noble women, but mostly men with haunted faces and eyes that had seen enough of battle to last a lifetime. As the kegs of ale were opened and mugs were filled, the merrymaking began. I understood almost immediately what this celebration was about—they were not truly celebrating anything, but rather they needed to force themselves to smile so that they would not break down.

"Ana Stonbit, I thought you had disappeared for good." A cheerful voice came from my right, and when I looked over, I saw a beardless, blond-haired man making his way towards me.

"Taysend!" I cried. "Long time no see!"

He frowned. "It has only been a few days."

"Really?" I scratched the back of my head. "It feels like so much longer… Must be because I missed you guys so much."

I'm pretty sure Éomer rolled his eyes at me, but I couldn't be certain.

"I saw you talking to King Théoden," said Taysend. "I thought my eyes had been bewitched. The last time I saw you, you vanished into thin air as if by some sort of witchcraft."

"Please don't call me that," I grumbled. "Nothing ever good comes of me being called a witch."

Before anyone could ask for details, I introduced Nick and Bonnie and then told Taysend about my meeting with Théoden. Almost glumly, I said, "King Théoden didsn't even remember my name. I think that's a first. People almost always remember me."

"Yeah," said Bonnie. "Usually you're so annoying that the next time people see you, they remember turn and run in the opposite direction."

"Thanks…" I paused. "You know, you might be right. Maybe it's a good thing Théoden doesn't remember my name."

"Behave yourself," said Éomer, resting a hand on my shoulder.

I grinned up at him.

"She never behaves herself," said Taysend, and both Nick and Éomer nodded in agreement.

I caught sight of Aragorn on the far side of the room, but before I could call out to him , I noticed that he was talking to strange men. Judging by their gaunt appearances and travel-worn attire, they were not of Rohan. In fact, the way they dressed resembled Aragorn's outfit when Frodo first met him in the Inn of the Prancing Pony.

"Who is that?" I asked, nodding at the strange men.

"They are the Dúnedain," said Éomer. "They are men of the north, who came here seeking Lord Aragorn. They brought word from Elladan and Elrohir, who ride with them sometimes, saying 'The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead.'"

"Paths of the Dead," I murmured. "Sounds ominous."

"I fear Lord Aragorn seeks to take these paths," said Taysend.

"You don't want him to?" I asked. "I mean, Elladan and Elrohir are cool. I doubt they're telling Aragorn to take the Paths of the Death just to mess with him."

Éomer's mouth twitched. "The Paths of the Dead are home to the Men of Dunharrow. They were cursed never to rest after they did not answer Isildur's call. The songs sing of their unrest and its end, saying 'From the North shall he come, need shall drive him: he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.'"

"Very poetic," I muttered. I glanced over at Aragorn. "I suppose the songs refer to him as Isildur's heir."

Éomer nodded.

"Prophecies…" I fought back a sigh. "Who listens to prophecies?"

Nick listened to this conversation curiously, while Bonnie, on the other hand, caught sight of someone she knew. "Legolas!"

We all spun around to see Legolas standing a few yards away, looking as blond and flawless as always (stupid pretty boy). Gimli stood near Legolas, holding a pint in his right hand. The two were talking to some of the riders of Rohan, and Gimli was laughing about something.

Nick, Éomer, Taysend, and I followed Bonnie as she rushed across the hall to greet Legolas, who still hadn't noticed us yet.

"Hey!" I grabbed Bonnie by the wrist before she could reach the elf. "You and Nick have to stay close to me all night. No letting go. What if I Skip without you? Bonnie, no chasing pretty boys without Nick and me." I glared over at Legolas as if this was his fault.

As if sensing my glare, Legolas looked up and saw me. He scowled (scowling at each other was really just our way of saying "hello") but when he caught sight of Bonnie, his eyes widened in surprise, and he smiled. "Hello, Bonnie. You have not aged a day." He hesitated. "That is not normal in a human."

"Way to state the obvious," I said, rolling my eyes.

Bonnie whacked the back of my head before saying, "Maybe I'm part-elf."

"And I'm a monkey's uncle," I muttered.

"Is my understanding of the common tongue incorrect?" asked Legolas. "I thought the term 'uncle' only referred to men."

"It's an expression," I said. "I'm just saying Bonnie isn't part-elf. She's too cool to be an elf."

Legolas's eyes narrowed. "Be wary if you choose to insult me and my kin."

"Do not take it personally," said Taysend. "Ana insults everyone she meets both purpose or by accident. I have learned it is best to ignore her."

Nick patted Taysend on the shoulder. "I think we're going to get along well."

"Ana?"

At the sound of the woman's voice, I looked around the room for the familiar voice. Sure enough, Éowyn was making her way across the room, weaving through the crowds of increasingly drunken men. I waved at her and she smiled back, her blue eyes crinkling in the corners. She looked as ridiculously beautiful as always wearing a silvery-blue dress with her golden hair let down.

"Hi," I said, stepping forward to give her a hug. "How you been?"

"We have survived the battle," said Éowyn. She was too polite to tell me that my question was stupid.

"Right," I said. "Sorry, I just got here. I'm still a little disoriented."

"How are your wedding plans coming?" asked Éowyn with a wry smile in Gimli's direction.

"Wedding?" asked Nick. "Whoa. Ana, you didn't tell me about any wedding. So you and Thorin have finally decided to get hitched?"

"Thorin?" Éowyn looked from Nick to me, her forehead furrowed with confusion. "Who does he speak of, Ana?"

"I'm not getting married to Thorin," I said. "I'm marrying Gimli."

Gimli blinked. "How and when did this come about? Did I agree to this?"

"While you were sleeping, no doubt," said Aragorn. With a warm smile of welcome, he stepped past Gimli to join our group. Éowyn stiffened at the sight of Aragorn, and a faint blush made its way onto her fair face. Aragorn appeared not to notice. After greeting me and being introduced to Nick and Bonnie, Aragorn asked with a smile, "Am I hearing the sound of wedding bells?"

"Yeah…" I glanced at Éowyn, but decided it was safer not to bring up her unusual reaction. Instead, I said, "Gimli and I are getting married. Don't worry, Gimli, I already got your father's approval—I just complimented his beard a whole lot, and he was willing to agree to anything I wanted."

"Alas," said Legolas, "their love of beards is the folly of dwarves."

"Not all dwarves," I said. "According to Balin, a large number of Stonefoots don't even have beards. The Longbeards like Gimli, however, do take great pride in their facial hair."

"I do not understand," murmured Gimli, who had not heard a word I'd said. "I am certain I did not agree to marry Ana."

"But Ana said you two were planning a wedding…" Éowyn started out with a good-humored smile, but then she glanced at Aragorn and then started to stutter. "She…she…she said her bridesmaids were going to be dwarves."

"They were going to be wearing the ugliest dresses I could find," I said, nodding.

Éomer sighed. "This is another one of Ana's strange fantasies."

Éowyn was still trying to get her blush under control and she couldn't focus on what anyone was saying. "Yes, we discussed this when you were, um, out hunting orcs. It was a strange fantasy…"

There was a collective groan amongst the men of the group as a huge grin spread across my face.

"Yeah," I said. "I have fantasies about Ian Somerhalder, Patrick Dempsey, Aaron Rodgers, Josh Holloway, James Marsden, and Richard Armitage. Now those are fantasies. Mm-hmm."

"You forgot to add Thorin to that list," muttered Nick.

"I do not wish to be part of the list," said Gimli.

"I suppose you and Gimli are not getting married then," said Éowyn almost sadly.

"Please do not encourage her, dear sister," said Éomer. "Ana's romantic fantasies are a subject of which I would prefer to be ignorant."

"Of course, we're still getting married," I said, ignoring Éomer and Gimli's demands. "I've already bought my white dress." Turning to Gimli, I put on my best pout and tried to bring tears to my eyes. "I've been dying to wear that dress for so long now. I've been so excited for this, you have no idea. I was going to walk down the aisle, and Thorin was going to be my maid of honor…I was so excited…I was even willing to let Legolas be your best man! But now you're pretending like nothing ever happened between us! I thought we have something special!" I actually managed to make tears well up in my eyes.

"I-I-I-I did not know," stammered Gimli. "I did not know you felt so strongly about me."

"Only you," I said. "I was certain it would be you."

"Thorin," coughed Nick.

"This is embarrassing to watch," said Bonnie.

"She is acting," added Legolas.

"Must you always state the obvious?" asked Éomer.

"Bring out the ale," said Taysend, and then he left to get more ale.

Gimli then wanted to bail on the situation on hand, and he followed Taysend to one of the kegs. Legolas followed his best friend, and Aragorn followed him. I just wanted to hang more with My Fellowship crew, so I dragged Nick and Bonnie with me. Éomer, of course, didn't want to miss the entertainment, so he joined us, bringing Eowyn with him. After the group migrated over to the open keg, Taysend filled mugs for everyone. And then, the drinking competition began.

Now, before you jump to conclusions, I was not a part of this drinking competition. I was drinking—that's a given—but this game was based on an ancient grudge. A showdown between elves and dwarves. Legolas and Gimli. The last creature standing, wins.

"So, it is a drinking game?" said Legolas hesitantly.

Bonnie smirked. "Yes, Legolas, it is a drinking game."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" asked Gimli gruffly. "Have at them."

Éomer handed them both ales. Gimli and Legolas downed the first pints without problem.

"I think the dwarf has this one in the bag," said Nick. "Elves seem too aloof to drink right."

"My money's on Legolas," said Bonnie without hesitation.

"You're biased," said Nick. He turned to me. "And you? Who's your money on?"

I pointed at myself. "Who? Me?" I had spent enough time drinking with elves to know exactly who was going to win this.

"She's biased towards dwarves," said Bonnie.

"She might cheat," added Éomer as he filled up the mugs for the next round. "With her uncanny ability to Skip, she probably already knows the outcome of this drinking game."

"Yes," said Taysend. "Because the outcome of this drinking game is so important to Middle Earth's future that it will be talked of in the years to come."

"You never know," I said. "Perhaps if I changed to outcome of this drinking game, the world would explode. I wouldn't put it past the Skipping."

"The Senturiel works in mysterious ways," said Legolas, finishing off the second round.

"The Sen-tur-ee-al?" said Gaenry, as tall and skinny as ever, pushing his way through a group of loud, bawdy men to join us around the keg. "What is the Sen-tur-ee-al?"

"Senturiel," I corrected. "It's the magic rock that I supposedly am the reincarnation of."

"You are the reincarnation of a magic rock" asked Taysend.

"Yeah. A creepy, mystical elf-woman told me so."

"Then that confirms that it is true," said Gaenry, nodding along as if he were the expert on such things.

"Do not call the Lady Galadriel a creepy, mystical elf-woman," said Gimli. "Or I shall not go through with this wedding."

I placed my hands on my hips and glared at Gimli as his gulped down another ale. "How can I go through with this wedding anyway when all you can think about is her? Am I supposed to go through life with the shadow of Galadriel over my head?"

Éowyn shook her head. "You two have some issues to sort through before your marriage."

Gimli let out a loud belch. Silence fell over the group as we all stared at him in amazement. Then, we all tripped over ourselves laughing like fools. I think the alcohol was finally getting to everyone's heads.

"Taysend! Gaenry! Éomer!" I cried, standing up on tiptoe to wrap my arms around Taysend and Gaenry's shoulders (Éomer was too tall for me to reach). "It's been a long time since we've been out drinking together."

"It has only been a few days," said Taysend.

I waved away his words. "I don't know what you're talking about. So where is Dorthin, son of Dunethin? My psychic waves are not picking up his presence."

A heavy hush fell over the three of them. The smiles slipped off their faces, and they stopped drinking. Taysend stared into his mug of ale, his eyes clouded with some unknown shadow. Gaenry was suddenly extremely interested in Bonnie and Nick's conversation about the best kind of vodka. Only Éomer took it upon himself to answer me.

"Recall, Ana, my uncle's speech at the beginning of the celebrations," he said as gently as possible. "We honor the victorious dead."

I almost dropped my ale. My eyes grew wide, and my heart started thundering in my chest. I searched for words, for some sort of joke to fill the heavy silence, but my brain could find nothing. Some small part in the back of my mind murmured that now was not the time for jokes, that I had resolved to start acting serious in serious situations, but another, more desperate, part of me started flipping through my repertoire of humor. In the end, what came out, was a strangled half-laugh, half-sob and the words, "Why did oh my God, Dorthin the chicken crossed the road—Dorthin!"

"Are you all right?" asked Éomer. "Ana?"

I coughed. "I need a seat."

So I sat down on the floor of the hall.

I'm not kidding. I didn't have time to wait for someone to get me a chair. I just sat down on the hard, stone floor, crossed my legs, and took a sip of my ale.

With misty eyes, I stared at the sea of legs in front of me. Gimli was seated in a wooden chair, somewhere on his seventh or eighth ale, and Legolas was standing next to the table, the alcohol not even affecting him yet. Bonnie and Nick were stomping their feet and cheering Legolas and Gimli on. Aragorn had wandered away from the table to have a conversation with Gandalf. The two of them were watching Merry and Pippin dance on top of a table, singing a song about The Green Dragon, the local tavern in the Shire. Éowyn was talking to her uncle, a slow, sad smile on her fair face. Some of the riders were laughing and jeering at the hobbits' song. Some of the noble women conversed in muted voices. The hall was filled with laughter and merriment, but I felt nothing except the hole in my chest.

Éomer, Taysend, and Gaenry exchanged nervous glances. Then, the three of them sat down on the floor next to me. They mimicked me: crossing their legs and sipping their ales. Their faces betrayed none of their emotions, and I couldn't tell that they had just spent the last three days in a brutal battle with orcs. It was not there. They seemed almost happy.

"Men are born to live and to die," said Taysend.

"That is a sad existence," said Éomer.

Taysend shrugged. "And yet, it is what we are."

"You do not know that that is the reason for which we are born," said Gaenry. "Perhaps there is something that comes after death."

"What do you think comes after death?" I asked.

Gaenry shook his head and had another sip of his ale.

People kept shooting us curious glances. They didn't understand what we were doing, and therefore it made them uncomfortable. I saw Nick and Bonnie debating whether they should join us. Bonnie made a movement to, but Nick stopped her. I was glad. There are some things she was not a part of; this was one of them. She hadn't known Dorthin. She couldn't know what he meant to us, to me. He had been my psychic friend, the one who understood me (even if he wouldn't admit it). We had laughed and drank together and shared stories of our miserable love lives. Dorthin was my friend. And he was gone.

"I think there must be something else," I said finally. "What a sad thing. To be born and to die in such a short amount of time."

"I think there must be happiness," said Éomer after a moment. "Somewhere where war does not touch you, where loss and misery are but things you speak of as memories. Perhaps you can only be truly be happy when you die."

"That is indeed a sad thing," said Gaenry.

"It would be a happy thing," said Taysend. "Because then you would have infinitely more time to be happy, while you would only have a limited time to be unhappy."

Gaenry nodded. "I want to ride a horse. A mare through a grass field. Like the wind, he would gallop. Easy. Calm. I wouldn't be going anywhere—just forward. Or maybe backward. Wherever the horse wanted to go, really."

Éomer smiled and patted Gaenry on the back.

Some drunken men behind me broke into song. It was a bawdy song about women bathing. Some of the noble ladies looked uncomfortable, but they did not speak a word against it. Éowyn was glaring the men down, and her uncle ended up putting an end to the song.

"I don't understand why I can Skip," I said abruptly. "What's the point? I try to save someone, and I just screw up the entire world. Am I just supposed to sit here and watch all this happen? Am I supposed to watch people die and do nothing about it? Why?" I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My head was foggy, the alcohol wearing down my walls. I opened my eyes again. "Wherever I end up—whether it be six feet under the ground or in some field, I don't know—but I want to stay there. None of this Skipping here or there. I want one place to call my home—in this life or the next. That's all I want. It doesn't have to be the nicest or the cleanest plac or anything like that. I just want one home."

"It would be nice if the afterlife was simple," said Éomer softly.

The hall was bathed in a buttery light. Orange flames danced in the fireplaces. People roared with laughter. Everything seemed so alive, so golden. Gold had never seemed so cruel.

"I will miss Dorthin," said Gaenry. "Who will try to introduce me to every pretty woman in the tavern now?"

"Who will scold the squires for not caring for their horses properly?" asked Taysend.

"Dorthin did love those horses," said Éomer. His voice was thick.

"As does every rider of Rohan." Taysend took a sip of his ale. "Dorthin was truly a rider of Rohan."

"Who will share psychic conversations with me now?" I asked, sniffling.

"Those conversations were all in your head," said Taysend though he was smiling.

"I bet Dorthin is getting drunk in a tavern of pretty women in his afterlife," said Gaenry.

"Oh, he's probably really drunk," I said. "Like flat out drunk. And practicing on his 'your mother' insults for when we all meet up again. And we'll drink together and insult each other, and it will be the best damn party of our lives."

"Even though we will be dead?" asked Gaenry.

"Speaking of dead." Arching his back, Éomer tried to peer over a table at two figures talking. Éomer's eyes narrowed. "Lord Aragorn has taken up the habit of courting my sister."

"What?" I almost laughed aloud at the thought of Aragorn courting anyone other than Arwen. "No! He's engaged to one of the most amazing women you will ever see. Though Éowyn totally has a crush on him." A grin slowly made its way onto my face. "I say we conclude this depressing meeting and go watch Éowyn try to flirt with an oblivious Aragorn."

Taysend got to his feet, and Gaenry said, "Agreed."

Éomer paled at the thought. "Not my sister…"