"I think you should get this checked out, Carter."

Sam looked down at the deep scratch that ran the length of her arm from wrist to elbow. A
little deeper, and she probably would have died from blood-loss, she thought. The night before she'd
taken an iodine swab and run it over the wound. It hadn't looked bad, just deep, and she'd taken a
strip and bound it tight. Now, in the light of the sun, she could make out the scarlet lines branching
out from it, and the blackish-green of the edges.

A few moments before several elves had descended upon them, carrying bowls and bottles
and baskets containing God knew what else. The procession was lead by an elf unlike any she had
seen before. Most of the elves so far had hair that ran in varying shades of gold or brown, staying
close to the extremes of each. Olavon had bright red hair, the kind that on Earth could only be
achieved by lots of dye. His thick brows were the same color, a strange contrast to the pale skin. As
if to further set him apart from his fellows, he stood taller than the elves around him, most of whom
were women. After bowing to them, he'd moved swiftly to Frodo, two women following him. The
other had broken up as well, moving among them.

Sam hung her head, but got up anyway. If they'd been in the infirmary, Janet would have
insisted on stitches...lots of them. It was something that everyone at the mountain dreaded since
Major Spaniels had transferred. None of the other nurses could do it so quickly or easily.

They wouldn't give you a lollipop afterwards, either.

"My Lady," Gimli stepped away, letting her cut ahead. Teal'c was just finishing assuring the
'nurses' that he was fine when one of them turned and saw the cut.

"Dewen," she called, catching the attention of a healer standing near Frodo.

A woman turned and started over, taking Sam's arm with sure hand. " She should have been
treated last night," she admonished, reaching for supplies.

"I didn't think it was that bad," Carter explained. To be completely honest, she had been
more concerned about the numbness that had taken over two of her toes

Sam tensed as the elf began tipping a crystal bottle over her arm, where one of the deeper
scratches was beginning to redden and swell. Legolas has warned her that while elven healing was
perhaps the best to be received, it could also be painful. The first splash of the amber liquid was
unbelievably cold, and traveled up her arm as if it had entered a vein. Just as the sensation began
numbing the area Dewen picked up another bottle, this one ice-blue. She tensed again as the new
liquid began warming the frozen skin. It was then that Sam experienced first hand what he'd warned
her about.

She might as well have saved herself the effort of tensing.

It felt like she'd been stabbed with a red hot poker along the length of the cut, then
shot up her arm, pooling in her shoulder and finger tips.

I am NOT going to scream, she chanted to herself as Calofan spread a thick poultice on the
wound and bound it with red leaves. Still, a strangled squeak escaped her before she got her lips
under control.

" Twenty bucks says she decks her, right there."

Shut up, Colonel, she thought in his direction, though she really did have the urge to hit the
elf, who was watching her with pale green eyes. A small part of her wondered at the pure color
before the rest of her reminded it that they were experiencing pain and it had better well pay
attention.

Finally, the pain began to subside, and she forced her muscles to relax. No sense in
destroying what little ability in them she had after the past days. Then the pain was gone, replaced
by a dull warm throb.

"The dressing should remain on until nightfall," Dewen instructed. "You may bathe with it
on, for the dressing will hold. Are you injured anywhere else?"

"Uh, no, thank you," she looked down, examining the bandage. "You dont think you could
explain what this is, do you?"

Dewen smiled. "I would be more than happy to, but it will have to wait until later today. Ask
anyone, and they will find me." Then she was gone.

"So, how much money do you owe me now?"

"Shut up, Daniel. You all right?"

Sam looked up at the colonel. "Fine, sir. Never felt better."

Jack nodded. "Good, because you've smelled better, believe me."

She glowered at him. " It is my duty to inform the colonel that he has as well, far better, if
memory serves. And I wanted to ask about that birthmark. How did it get into a perfect-"

"Carter," he interrupted, lifting his shirt so his back could be examined. Last night his back
had been a rosy pink. Now more than half of it was varying shades of purple, black and green. "Hey,
watch it," he grumbled as the bruises were prodded.

"It seems your colonel is a bad patient," Aragorn observed as the colonel made several more
exclamations.

Samantha shook her head. "It's when he's quiet that you need to worry about him. Right now
he's probably not even really feeling half of what she's doing."

Aragorn nodded before turning his attention to Sam, whose blush was getting darker and
darker as he was examined. "We were lucky our wounds extended little beyond scrapes and
bruises," he looked at her bandage. "I must ask you to alert one of us if you are so wounded again.
Even a scratch from one of those creatures could be deadly if not treated immediately."

Sam nodded. "How's Frodo?"

"Recovering, though it may be a week or more before we can travel again. His wounds were
more grievous than they first appeared."

Sam tried not to look relieved. A week or more of no climbing, no running, no jumping,
fighting, or anything else too strenuous? Heaven. Even the ranger, who she'd come to think of as
being something near indestructible, sounded pleased.

There was something to be said about clean clothes.

One, they tended to make you feel more human. Two, they definitely improved the overall
smell of their party. It was later that morning when Jack kicked her foot and informed her that they
were heading to the bathing pools. Only after they extracted blood oath that she wouldn't peek again
did they let her go. She'd found a bowl of sweet smelling soap along with a clean shirt, britches, and
soft soled shoes sitting on a rock, waiting for her.

Sam tossed her BDU's in a single smelly pile and looked down at herself, plucking at the tan
material. It was light, too light, and it made her feel more than a little naked, especially since she
was going commando. Wearing the same shirt for a week was one thing, but wearing the same
underwear was another ball park entirely. The mere thought of wearing them for a sixth day made
her shudder. Thankfully, one of the elfs had assured her that all her clothing would be cleaned and
returned once they left Lorien.

"Are you ready, Samantha?"

Sam sighed, reminding herself not to walk to briskly, or she'd be bouncing around in there.

"Yes, Legolas. I'm coming out."

Sam greeted her friends with a wry smile.

" Our clothing suits you well, Samantha. You could very easily pass for one of us," Legolas
said, bowing slightly.

"Thanks, Legolas, you look... elfish," she cast a glance at Daniel. How were you supposed to
compliment an elf, anyway?

Gimli laughed, shaking his head. "As if this overly large twig could help it!"

"Better a twig than a stump, master dwarf."

"Stump!" Gimli's voice thundered through the glade. "I'll have you know, elf that... come
back here!"

The group watched as the enraged dwarf tramped after the elf, who was walking sedately
away from them.

"Another week and they will be fast friends," Aragorn said, a smile creasing his usually
solemn face. Sam was amazed at the change the expression invoked in him. He seemed years
younger. "Or they'll end up killing each other."

The ranger turned to her. "Legolas does not banter with those who are not his friends, nor
does he give his friendship lightly."

"It seems that elves seldom do," Boromir observed.
_________________________________________________________

Daniel Jackson.

Dr. Daniel Jackson.

Daniel shook his head before running a hand through his still damp hair. That was him, all
right. Dr. Daniel Jackson, linguist, Egyptologist and anthropologist. Specialty in ancient
civilizations in and around Egypt and Mesopotamia from circa 2000 BC to 234 AD. Civilian
attaché to SG1, the flagship team of the SGC, a top military operation run out of Colorado.

It was funny how many turns your life could take.

As a kid he'd sneered at the military men who came to the highschools, trying to impress kids
with their immaculate uniforms, shiny metals and tales of valor and glory. There was no way they
were shoving him into a uniform and shipping him off to some remote outpost so he could watch
Mighty Mouse reruns on a black and white TV. Two decades later here he was, working with the
military, being all he could be.

No wait, that was the army.

Now he was on a world that was God knows where, and God knows when, for that matter,
with little hope of going home. Eating with elves, talking with dwarves and questioning wizards.

Yeah. Life could take some interesting turns.

"Come on Jack, this is amazing."

"Daniel, no."

"Jack, what else am I gonna do with my time?"

Jack sighed. "You're gonna to learn how to fight, hand to hand, and with a sword. We've
already decided."

Daniel bristled. Decided? "And who makes up this royal we?"

"Bormir, Legolas, Gimli, Jack and I have decided, Daniel," Aragorn answered. "You no
longer have your weapons, and it is too dangerous for someone who cannot defend himself to travel
with us. You and the hobbits will be given lessons until we leave Lorien, and any time after that that
we can spare to train you."

"At least Teal'c didn't vote against me."

"Quite the contrary, DanielJackson," the jaffa answered. " I was most pleased when I was
told of their plan, and gave my full support."

Daniel cast a quick glance upwards. He could escape from Jack, maybe even Gimli and
Legolas, but Teal'c and Aragorn together? He didn't even want to think about what they'd do to him.

"Fine. When do we start?"

"Now."

Daniel ducked, purely on instinct, as a fist whirred above him, right where his head had
been. "What's the big-"

He never got a chance to finish that sentence. A boot connected with his calves, sending him
sprawling. Any words he might have said were cut off by the 34 inches of steel pressing against his
Adams apple.

"Good," Aragorn removed the blade, but kept the sword unsheathed. " You are quick,
Daniel, and that will be to your advantage, but you must learn how to be quicker, and to keep your
strength up with that quickness."

As he spoke Daniel stayed flat on the ground, mentally making a checklist of all his sore
muscles and having the sinking suspicion that the list would grow before the day was over.

"What's wrong wit'em?" Pippins quiet question drew their attention to the arrival of the
hobbits.

" He is learning how to fight, just as you must, Pippin. We have a week, perhaps a little
more, before we venture onto the open road again. The closer we come to Mordor the more danger
we face, and you must be able to handle yourselves."

"Frodo's in no condition to be doing these things, Strider," Sam spoke up. "He's hurt."

"But he can learn to hold a sword properly, and how to stand," Boromir cut in. "Since I
started training you, we will continue. Gather your weapons, little ones."

Daniel stood up, raising an eyebrow at Sam, then turning to Jack. "And why do you get to
escape?"

The look of surprise on Jack's face was priceless. " Last time I checked I was the one who
could handle himself, Danny boy. You cant even throw a knife without slicing your fingers damn
near off. Besides, I'm getting lessons in swordsmanship too, along with Carter."

Finally, the archeologist hung his head in seeming defeat. If the colonel had looked carefully,
he would have noticed a gleam in Daniel's eye. Oh, he'd learn how to fight all right.

After all, why should Teal'c be the only one to knock their colonel on his ass?
_____________________________________________________

"You want to draw the bow back to your ear and sight along the shaft. With both eyes,
Merry."

Legolas watched his trainees with a critical eye. It was nearing nightfall, and he could see
that they were more than a little tired. Frodo sat a short distance away, watching his friends. He'd
been excused early, but refused to leave them. "I'll rest when they do," was his reply to Gimli's
question of if he wanted to lie down.

Several of the Lorien elves were standing near by, watching with avid curiosity. Throughout
the day small groups of them had taken to watching the group as they trained, offering advice where
they felt it was necessary. The weapons consisted of live swords and long knives donated by the
Lady of the Wood, and almost everyone had added a few new scratches to their already large lists.

"I dont see why we have to do this, anyway," Merry grumbled under his breath. The
sentiment was more than likely meant only for Pippin's ears, and Legolas smiled to himself. If only
other peoples knew how sensitive an elf's ears were.

"You're holding the bow wrong, Sam," he walked over to Carter. "Your forearm must be
straight, or the target will not be true."

He stepped behind the woman, straightening her pose. "Try to keep your head parallel to the
ground," He tilted her head back, and let his fingers linger for the barest of instants. He felt eyes
watching them, and quickly stepped away.

"Fire!"

For a moment the only sounds were the whizzing of arrows as they found their targets. Or
tried to find them, at any rate. The elf was just relieved that there were no cries of pain following the
thumps as the arrows struck. He ran an eye over the targets.

It could have been worse.

"I think they need their rest, Aragorn," Legolas called. "It has been a long day."

" In my defense I've never tried to shoot a bow before," Sam said, gently laying his on the
ground.

Aragorn walked over, collecting the bows and quivers with Boromir and Gimli. "Tomorrow
we start again."

Legolas almost laughed at the speed at which their pupils ran from the small clearing they'd
claimed as a practice field. "So, do you think they can make it?"

Boromir hefted the bows. "The hobbits learn quickly with the sword. As long as they are
serious, I see no problem."

"As do Samantha, Daniel, and Jack," Aragorn said, stacking the quivers. " Samantha and
Jack have some experience with short swords, so I think we will focus on those. Daniel, however..."

"Two left feet."

Legolas raised one eyebrow at this. "Two left feet, Gimli, is that possible?"

The dwarf glared at him. "It is an expression I've heard O'Neill use in reference to the man.
Mean's clumsy."

"And Teal'c?"

The group smiled to themselves. "Picks fighting up like he was born to it, he does," Gimli
announced.

Three heads nodded in assent. "It drives their colonel to distraction."

Legolas watched his companions with a lightening heart. It was good to hear their laughter
again, even if it was at the expense of their friends. The weight of Gandal's death was starting to ease
for them, however slightly.

For him it had yet to dissipate at all.

Few creatures understood the depth of emotion that elves felt, outside of elves themselves.
Aragorn understood, but then he had been raised among them. To creatures who were immortal time
passed differently. Elves counted years as other races would count centuries, and each moment was
remembered with crystal clarity. When he closed his eyes he could still see the delicate play of light
and shadow on Gandalf's face before he fell, still hear the slip of fabric against rock as he let go. He
should have been there to grab him. He was the fastest, the most nimble among them. He should not
have assumed that Gandalf was indestructible.

"Stop blaming yourself."

Legolas looked up. Gimli and Boromir were gone, but he could hear them as they made their
way towards camp. Aragorn was seated a short distance away, packing his pipe.

"That is a bad habit, you know."

The ranger looked at his pipe. "It is a calming one," deliberately, he struck a spark and
inhaled. "Perhaps if you tried the weed you would not be so adverse to its use. But, as I was saying:
stop blaming yourself."

"I wasn't."

"I know you, Legolas. You blame yourself if the sun does not shine brightly. It is the price of
being born an elf. You feel too much, even when you try to feel nothing at all."

"Wisdom you have no doubt learned from the Lady Arwen."

The words were meant as a warning, but Aragorn brushed them off. "The lion shows his
claws. I had forgotten how sharp your tongue could be."

"Then do not forget again."

The ranger sighed. "What is troubling you so, Legolas? I have known you most of my life,
and I have yet to see you so distraught. And I daresay Gandalf's death is only a part of it."
The elf looked up, to where the tree's of Lorien glowed in the growing darkness. "The strain
of traveling with a dwarf is finally wearing me down."

"I believe this problem's hair is more blond than red, my friend," at Legolas's silence he
continued. " Jack assures me that she has no ties on their world."

"I am betrothed."

"Was betrothed."

Legolas refused to look at his friend, instead focusing on the fairy-like lights of the city
overhead. "It has not ended, Aragorn."

"No, only her life has."

Legolas picked up one of the bows and a quiver of arrows and moved as far away from the
targets as he could. "I do not ask your council in this matter, Aragorn," almost unconsciously he let
an arrow fly, and cursed silently. It was nowhere near the center.

"No, you do not, which is why you require it," Aragorn set down his pipe. "Neither of you
has the time to wait, Legolas. We could die tomorrow, or the next day. When happiness is in your
grasp, you take hold of it with both hands. You do not dwell on what has happened."

Legolas listened as Aragorn walked away, having said his piece, and let another arrow fly.
This one struck true, and was followed by another before it had ceased quivering.
______________________________________________________

George Hammond watched the stargate with a heavy heart. Two months had passed since
SG1 had gone missing, and that was all the time the government had allowed for them to return
home. Their offices were already packed, the contents of which sorted and ready to send where they
needed to go. They seldom lost men, a sign of the intense training and safety precautions that were
taken before any team stepped through the event horizon. But when one was lost, he felt it keenly. A
small part of him would always blame himself for each death, since he was responsible for the
welfare of the men under his command. Earlier that morning was the first time he'd allowed himself
to look at the files of their replacements, good men all.

But they weren't SG1.

"You all right, George?"

Hammond turned to look at Jacob. Neither was willing to give up on their kids just yet. SG1
had been considered lost before, died and returned more times than any of them wanted to
remember.

But then again, they'd never been gone for over two months before.

"No, Jacob, I'm not. We received news from the Asgard concerning the telemetry on the
gate."

"And?"

George sighed. "And according to them there is no sure way of replicating the effects. It
could literally take years of research and recon before we found the place where SG1 was sent.
Those are years that the government isn't willing to spend searching for four people."
Jacob nodded. " We both knew it could come to this, George. They'll just have to find their
own way home."

The General closed his eyes. "I just got off the phone with Jack's mother, concerning his
MIA status. She didn't say a word, not a single word," he mentally shook himself. " That leaves
Sam's brothers and Bra'tac."

"I'd put in my ear plugs if you talk to Jimmy," Jacob said, forcing a smile. His older son had
always been hotheaded and overprotective, especially concerning his little sister. "What about
Daniel?"

"Jack was listed as his next of kin, followed by Kasuf."

Jacob shook his head. Sam had once described the doctor as one of the loneliest people she'd
ever known. "I take it the government isn't willing to keep up with Sam's house payments."

"Janet's agreed to take care of Major Carter's things in the event her brothers cannot, but no,
Major Carter's house goes on the market. Colonel O'Neill's mother is taking responsibility for Jack's
place and all his personal effects. "

"And Daniel?"

George sighed. "Apparently, Dr. Jackson has had arrangements for some time. All of his
things are being put into storage for two years. After that time those possessions that have value will
be given to various museums. Any clothing will be donated to charity, and his few personal items
that remain are to be given to Kasuf.

And life goes on.

George nodded, quelling a fit of ill placed laughter. It always does, doesnt it.
__________________________________________________________________________

AUTHORS NOTES
Dare I say it? Was their a hint of a relationship budding between our two blondes? ::: Writegirl
grins evilly and rubs hands together::: you'll just have to come back to find out, wont you? And for
those people counting on their fingers and thinking that the time doesnt match, thats because it
doesnt. Their in another dimension, remember? Time is relative.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for reading this. I know things are starting to
drag out a little, but hey, thats what fanfiction if for. Special ice-cream topped thanks goes out to
Rooni (for both reviews!), nefernetera, shanna, Eris, Doggettlover, silverkeeper, Elwen half-elven
and J for the awesome reviews!!!

Remember, leave a donation in the feedback box on your way out!!! All suggestions are taken with
complete seriousness and consideration. Flames will be taken with Jack Daniels and grape juice.
^_~