Chance Encounter

Disclaimer: I forgot to put a disclaimer for the first chapter so here it is:- I don't own anything or anyone that you recognize. They all belong to their respective creators/directors. I'll put them back when I'm through with them.

Chapter 2: The Blacksmith

Once again, night fell and Gandalf refused to let the Fellowship have a fire, despite pleas from Pippin. The stranger was still unconscious, much to their annoyance. They were silent as they sat in a circle close to each other, each immersed in his own thoughts. The only sound was the constant scraping of rock against metal as Boromir sharpened his sword. No one noticed when the stranger's eyes slowly opened.

Balian found himself staring at a dark sky riddled with stars. He was lying on dry, hard ground and he had no recollection of how he got there. All he remembered was his head slipping beneath the dark turbulent waves. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he could hear muffled whispers somewhere close by. Cautiously, he turned his face towards the sounds. Less than a foot away from him sat a group of nine people. Four of them were so small that they could only be children. Their garb was strange to him, some more than others. What struck him as most unusual was the lack of a campfire on a cold night such as this. He tried to lift his head for a better look but fell back with a small groan. His body ached fiercely and his head swam.

"He's awake," he heard someone say. A hand lifted his head while a cup was put to his lips.

"Drink," commanded a different voice. Cool sweet water flooded his mouth and soothed his parched throat. When his vision cleared, he saw nine pairs of concerned eyes looking down at him.

"Where am I?" he asked, squinting up at them.

"We are near Hollin," said the old man with a long grey beard and solemn grey eyes.

"Is that in Europe, or the Holy Land?" asked Balian. He had never heard of a place called Hollin but then, he had not heard of Ibelin before his father told him of its existence.

The old man looked at one of his companions, a man of about forty with dark silver-streaked hair. The man shrugged and the old man turned his attention back to Balian.

"We know naught of that which you speak," said the old man, whose voice was unusually strong for one of such a great age. He stroked his beard. "Where do you hail from, stranger?"

"France," replied the confused blacksmith. How could anyone not know about Europe or the Holy Land?

The dark haired man and old greybeard exchanged looks again.

"Who are you?" asked the one with dark hair.

"I am the blacksmith," said Balian.

Aragorn sighed with exasperation, causing Legolas to smirk. The man glared at the elven prince who tried to look innocent.

"If you are a blacksmith," said Aragorn "how did you come by such a sword?" He indicated the stranger's fine weapon.

"Family heirloom," replied the stranger. He did not seem like he was about to say anymore on the matter.

"What is your name?" asked Gandalf, hoping that the stranger's name might help them to find out where he was from. He was dark, like one of the Haradrim but his clothes were definitely not from Harad. Neither was his accent. The more they questioned him, the more confused they became.

"Balian," replied the man. He would not elaborate.

"Balian," repeated Gandalf, trying out the name on his tongue. It did not sound like a name from Harad, nor was it a name of the Rohirrim or the Gondorians. This was getting stranger but the moment and Gandalf did not like it. What if Balian –if that was indeed his real name- a spy or was he just an innocent blacksmith as he claimed to be.

Balian did not want to give up his true identity. He had become too famous over the last few months for his liking. He did not want to be forced back into fighting to regain Jerusalem. He'd had enough of war to last a lifetime. He told them his real name only because he thought it was a common name. From the old man's expression, it apparently was not.

"Balian," cut in a glowing blonde being with a piercing blue gaze. "What do you know of Mordor?"

The question surprised the blacksmith. "Nothing," he replied. What in the world was Mordor? Was he supposed to know anything about it?

Legolas scrutinized the man's expression. It was quite blank. Either the man was a very good actor or he was genuinely confused. He looked at Aragorn to see what he thought of all this. Aragorn looked just as confused as Balian. The elf decided to try something else. "When we found you, you were covered in salt and your clothing was damp," he said. "Why?"

"I was shipwrecked," replied Balian "in the ocean."

Now Gandalf knew that the man was no spy. If he was a spy, he would have had a more credible answer. Hollin was nowhere near the sea. Something strange was going on.

Balian could sense the relief his interrogators felt. He looked at them for an explanation as to why they had been so suspicious. None came and he was not about to openly ask for one.

"You must be hungry," said the one with dark hair, handing him some travel rations.

"Thank you," said Balian, taking the food gratefully. His stomach ached from being so empty. Then he noticed that he was dressed in clothes that were not his own.

"These garments…" he began, looking at the dark haired man.

"Your clothes were damp and salty," replied the man. "Boromir over there lent you some of his spares." He indicated a younger man with light-brown hair and a serious face.

"I thank you for your generosity," Balian said to Boromir. All of a sudden, it seemed as if all the suspicions of this strange group had evaporated. They all started talking at once, introducing themselves.

"My name's Pippin," said one of the small beings which Balian had mistook for children. "I'm a hobbit."

"I'm Merry," said another. "I'm Pippin's cousin."

Balian nodded at these enthusiastic 'hobbits', unsure of what to say.

"Gimli at your service," said a short, stout creature with masses of red hair and a thick red beard.

"Er…Balian at yours," he said awkwardly. The creature had to be a dwarf. There was no question.

Gimli chuckled. "You'll get used to it lad," he said. Balian warmed up to him immediately. He reminded him of Brother John who was always uncommonly kind and cheerful.

The food strengthened him and he managed to sit up by himself. The blonde being was watching him carefully and Balian nodded at him to tell him that he did not need help. For a while, they looked at each other. Finally, the blonde one spoke.

"I am Legolas," he said so quietly that only Balian could hear him.

"I…" began Balian but the Legolas cut him off.

"I heard you the first time you told us your name," he said.

Balian did not know what to say to that so he kept silent.

The next morning, Balian was woken by the sound of hobbits fighting over food. He watched with silent amusement as Merry and Pippin squabbled over the last bit of spiced sausage until Gandalf stopped them with a piercing glare. The rest of the Fellowship ignored the young hobbits. They were used to their antics.

Aragorn watched as the stranger offered to help Sam carry some of the supplies. He seemed to have no harmful intentions but the ranger was not sure. His story was too strange to believe yet it could not have been a lie.

Sam seemed reluctant to let anyone touch his precious pots but after reassurances from Balian, he finally let the man share his load. The one called Frodo seemed unusually nervous. Balian did not question the hobbit, sensing that it was none of his business and that it would be better if he did not know. Pippin's complaints about how heavy his pack was distracted Balian and he hurriedly offered to help the young hobbit. Unlike Sam, Pippin readily agreed.

A/N: Well, here's the second chapter. It's not very action packed yet but I promise you it will get more exciting once they reach Moria. After all, Balian has never seen anything like it before. Thanks to all those who reviewed. (You know who you are) As for all the others who read but neglect to give this poor author a comment or two, you'd better do it or I'll send my Balrogs after you. smiles evilly