Author: ...I'm overwhelmed by your responses to this fic. I honestly thought you'd forgotten about it.
Well, call me motivated then.

As for updates- they will continue to be on irregular schedule, but I will upload a new chapter as soon I finished another one, and always on Sundays.
So, enjoy :)

"I need to be certain. Are you aware of what kind of creature you discovered?"

"Because we all know you like to jump first and only look after, Estel"

The chieftain winced at his brother's words. It had been a surprise to meet them in their main camp, though the surprise quickly turned into trepidation upon remembering just what had followed him there- on his own invitation, no less.
When his brothers spotted the Wraith, both had frozen- full-body frozen (he hadn't been sure they've still been breathing at some point), until he moved out of their sight and the twins had dragged him into his tent to chew him out.

Feeling an approaching headache coming up and having the sudden need to defend the creature, he folded his arms and started the Elves down. "I know what he is. I also know he had had the chance to kill all of us with barely more than the twitch of a finger, and we're all still hale."

The latter part was true- after his rather spectacular entrance, the Wraith hadn't shown any further signs of hostility- neither towards any of his men (even those that joined them later) or complete strangers.
In fact, he had shown barely any signs of interacting with them. He'd followed after them, stayed close to their camps in the night, watched them just as they watched him, but he rarely conversed with any of them. Not even with him, even though he was the only one capable of speaking his tongue. All information they've gleaned were basically his name, and that he wasn't from this area. Aragorn suspected he didn't even originate from Eriador, or even Middle-Earth, but wasn't so sure about that. He needed more knowledge, yet the Wraith refused to give it.

The first part...well, that was a lie. He had absolutely no idea what this 'Alex' was. Wraith were shades of people, intangible and mostly invisible for all sense and purpose; yet he...he was solid, unmoving, indestructible. He didn't seem to have any troubles with sunlight either, so he simply could not be a Wraith.
On the other hand- he had seen him grow from the ground, he had seen him take an inhuman form before changing into his current appearance; and he hadn't seen him sleep, eat, drink, blink, or even breathe since they found him.

That had been one week ago. After the first night with their new companion, Aragorn decided to take him to their main camp. His men had protested at first, but they too could see that he wasn't dangerous to them at the moment. (And then he wondered just when he started calling the Wraith a he instead of an it)

Aragorn's brothers, apparently, weren't as lenient as he was. He figured that was because they had seen way more, had experienced way more than he ever would, and he knew he was being the unreasonable one. Why should he trust the creature? Because he looked like a man, because he told him his name? (there was something powerful in knowing a Wraith's name, though he wasn't so sure the creature knew this)

On the other hand...he hadn't really sensed any kind of darker intentions off the creature, and he was proud to know he was a very good judge of characters. His brothers knew it too, so their ire was actually more of exasperation, like when he dragged in a Warg pup and insisted he could tame it. (He had, and had been devastated when it died from a bad fall)

He sighed. "You haven't seen what I saw", he insisted. "He is powerful, no doubt- but he never so much as raised a finger against us. And we did try to attack him, and he knew it. And still."
His brothers frowned at him, and Aragorn ran a hand through his hair. "Look. He's lost. He claimed he didn't belong in this land, and I believe him. I truly believe him, you didn't see the desperation on his face."

His brothers eyed each other, before they relented. After all, they knew their brother's habit of picking up strays. "Very well", Elladan began.

"We will look at your Wraith", Elrohir continued, "And convince it to come and meet father."

"However, if this goes wrong and it shows only the slightest amount of aggression, we will put it down."

Aragorn furrowed his brows. The Wraith had taken down a dozen Orcs without blinking, so he figured Elves wouldn't fare well either. (He hoped the creature would retain its non-violent streak with his brothers and in his father's halls). "I shall tell him to follow you. It will be in his best interest, I gather."

Elrohir lifted his hand. "Don't make us regret our kindness."

"You won't" the Ranger assured them.

"Now", Elladan continued, apparently satisfied by his words, "The matter why we sought you out."

Aragorn nodded. "I was wondering."

"Mithrandir never arrived at Father's Halls."

"What?!" The Ranger stepped back, aghast. "The Nine are closing in-"

"We are aware. This is why we are here."

"You have to go to Bree to meet the Ring-Bearer, and bring him to father. You have to protect him." Right, because that had been the original plan. Only, it was supposed to be the Wizard who met up with the Ring-Bearer, not a random stranger. (and one that potentially looked very dangerous, he just knew how he looked to others)

"He won't trust me", he hissed.

"Then make him trust you. And take him to father", his brother pointed out, "We can't interfere. Not this deep in Man's land. The Nine would be on us faster than a wolf upon a wounded deer."

Aragorn swore slightly under his breath. Getting to Bree was going to take him a week's trek, at least. He sorely hoped he wasn't too late. "I have to hurry."

"You do", his brothers agreed.

"But", he continued, "You will first meet him. And you will take him to the Lord Elrond's Halls."

The twins didn't seem too enthusiastic about this, but they relented. "If this goes wrong and we have to pull your behind out of the fire, we'll be telling you 'I told you so'."

"Repeatedly. At any point in day or night."

Aragorn shivered and hoped it would never come to that as he lead the way back out of the tent. The Wraith was easily enough to find- he was where no horse, or dog, or even bird was, and where the men gave a wide berth.

Again he was startled by how human he looked, leaned against the trunk of a tree, with his arms folded over his chest and one leg crossed over the other at the ankle. But then he glanced into their direction, and the illusion was broken. His eyes were too bright, too predatory to be ever mistaken for a normal man's.

His brothers twitched and- likely sub-consciously- inched their hands towards their daggers, though a short gesture from him stopped them. He cleared his throat. "My brothers", he introduced the twins, who eyed him puzzled upon hearing his bad rendition of Orcish. "Take you to father. Father help", he grimaced. "Be good", then he turned around and left. He took the fastest horse they had and grabbed one of the scout's ready-bags, and started riding. He knew he wouldn't be able to get to Bree on the animal as it would draw too much attention- he was going to let it go once he was close enough, it would find its way home- but it would cut the time he had to travel in half at least. And he really needed the extra time if he wanted to catch up to the Ring-Bearer.

The Nine...they were already bad news, but now Mithrandir was missing. They had to do this very carefully, and fast, if they wanted to reach the Elven Lands to be under Elrond's protection.

As the horse's hooves pounded the ground and the distance steadily grew, all thoughts Aragorn had about the Wraith vanished from his mind.

Only to come back with full force by dusk of the second day.

At first, Aragorn had thought he was imagining things, his mind too frazzled to think clearly- but he hadn't been mistaken.
From one moment to the other, all wildlife seemed to have disappeared, vanished into hiding. There were no birds, no insects- and even the horse, an Elven-bred steed capable of facing down one of the Nine without fear, was beginning to get anxious.

And then he saw movement from the corner of his eye, and whirled around, sword drawn from its sheath with a sharp ring, only to stare into pale blue irises that seemed to glow in the gloom surrounding them.

"Fancy meeting you here, Strider", said the Wraith with a wide, feral grin on his face.

If anybody asked Alex, he'd claim he just followed after the Ranger because whatever caused him to pack up and leave the camp like a bat out of Hell sounded way more interesting that following some Elves to where their father was.

Which was a lie, because the only reason he followed after this Strider person was because he was basically the only known variable in this whole mess. Alex trusted him way more than he did the twins. (it was still an abysmal amount of trust, but the thought counted)

He didn't intend to let the Ranger ask, however, because he was well aware his lying sucked. Oh, he could act perfectly- after all, letting somebody else's memories to the talking when wearing their skin was easy- but he couldn't build a story. It probably had to do with the fact that he had so many opinions to pick from, he never knew which was the right idea. Or maybe it was because lying had caused the whole mess with Manhattan (including his very birth) and he sub-consciously decided that being brutally honest was the best remedy. Omitting a few facts- well, that wouldn't hurt anybody. (besides, the man's already seen him chow down on a bunch of Orcs, and he still hadn't run. Which was...good? Maybe)

Not that the man was even going to ask, once he caught up to him (he'd been keeping his distance most of the time, only deciding to close in a few moments ago), because he was staring at him like a fish, mouth flapping open and closed a few times.
Then however, his expression sharpened, and his hand twitched towards the sword at his belt. Alex knew he was shit at lying, but this man's body was speaking volumes alone. He knew exactly what he was going to say (accuse, whatever), so he held up his hand. "Don't worry. I just gave your guys the slip. Pissed them off, no doubt, but I don't really care."

Strider stopped, blinking. "So...they are alive?"

Alex shrugged. "When I left them they were. Alive, and livid." He'd heard the swears trail after him when he split off from them just a few hours after Strider did. (He only understood like a third of them, but he could tell that they've been...creative)

The Ranger in front of him held his gaze before his shoulders slumped and he sighed in relief and resignation. "And I can't just persuade you to head back?"

Alex snorted. "Whatever gave you the impression you could?" Not to mention these guys looked only seconds away from sticking arrows into him. While it wouldn't hurt him, it would be annoying, so he really had no desire to head back.

Interestingly, the man in front of him apparently came to the same conclusion, because he exhaled slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose in a I-need-a-drink-gesture. "Thought as much." His hand dropped and he glanced at Alex with tired gray eyes. "Why didn't you want to go with my brothers? My father could have helped you."

That...was questionable. Alex had learned a lot about these Elves, as the Orcs so helpfully supplied, and he knew they could do strange things- but he'd also learned that this place was not Manhattan. Not at all.

Simply put, he was stuck here, and he was damn sure there was no way back, no way back to her-

The first time he'd realized it, he'd thrown a temper-tantrum and had nearly coughed up viral agents in rage- or maybe desperation- only catching himself at the last possible second and doing a little redecorating instead.
After that, he'd mutely followed the first person he met who didn't try to put a bullet (or sword) through his head, all the while fighting back the need to infect so he wouldn't be alone anymore.

So he turned his focus on different things. The men, listening to their inane drivel. The nature they hiked through, the animals they encountered (studying their reaction towards him). It had helped somewhat, helped him to slowly wrest control back.

But when Strider told him to follow his brothers, he had been afraid he would slip back into his previous state- or worse- simply because he had gotten used to the man and the twins were unknown to him. And following the unknown was dangerous- he'd learned that one very early. And while there wouldn't be any high-caliber rifles or tanks or helicopters here, it was something so deeply ingrained into his very being he knew better than to risk anything.

He'd followed after Strider instead, knowing fully well he'd have to answer some questions.

Time to lie then, and hoped he managed to string a story together. So he inclined his head like he was thinking about what the man had asked, until he settled for a shrug. "As far as I could figure out, your father is still going to be there at a later point", he replied, the lie rolling easily off his tongue. "This- whatever this is, won't." It didn't hurt he actually thought so.

The Ranger stepped back, eying the other warily. "And this is...?" His tone was cautious, suspicious almost. Oh, there was something else to it. And he would bet about a quarter of the total monetary damage he'd caused that it had something to do with the conversation he'd overheard at the camp.

At least, here he wouldn't have to spin a story, he could simply tell the truth. He made sure his shrug was clearly visible. "I got absolutely no idea. But it was bad enough to make you run out there like a bat out of Hell, so I figured it's gotta be more interesting than following Elves I don't know to some father and wait around to see whether something important happens or not."

He could just see the way the man's brain started smoking. Mostly because he knew things Alex wasn't aware of, and he was just desperately trying to fit in the new information he'd been given. Then however, his expression shifted, and he blinked at the Runner. "Did you just speak in Man's tongue?

Alex actually found himself staggered by the sudden change of topics, but he always was quick at re-finding his balance. "This is a new way to change the topic, but yeah. I did. Interesting that you didn't notice it sooner."

Strider's expression shifted quickly, until it settled in the kind of exhausted exasperation Alex knew from many people falling victim to their sibling's pranks. He exhaled once, and his eyes narrowed. "And you still let me stagger through Orcish with all the grace of a hedgehog tumbling down a set of stairs?"

...That was an amusing image to go with, but Alex wasn't exactly a patient man- oh, he could stalk a target across all of Manhattan until a chance to strike offered itself, but he hated it if people kept talking around the subject.
He hoped the grin made of bared teeth transferred enough of those thoughts as he answered, "I admit, it was amusing watching you struggle" And it had been, only to become sad very fast, "But I figured in order to make sure everybody is on the same page I should learn your language." Since he didn't allow himself to simply consume one of the men, he'd listened to their conversations instead. As it was, it was pretty easy to figure out what they were speaking about, since the language was close to Anglo-Saxon which included plain German and plain English. And he could work with those.

He let himself dwell on it for another moment before he snapped back to the point and leaned forwards, hands digging into his knees. "But this is not about me. This is about you- and whatever startled you. And it startled you bad, enough you didn't notice me trailing after you." He'd been under the impression the man was hyper-vigilant, and casually jogging after him (a process that left more than a few deep imprints on the ground) should have drawn his attention long ago.

Strider didn't argue any, just looked even more pensive. Alex cocked his head and bared his teeth. "So, if it got you scared like it did, then I want to know what it is about. If only to avoid any unpleasant surprises." He hated being ambushed. The countless Strike Teams raining Hell down on his head had been bad enough, but were to be expected. But being taken out by Cross on that roof, and losing his powers when he got infected by a cancer weapon; and the Leader Hunter stealing Dana away- those had marked him deep.

He hated surprises, and if there was any chance to minimize the damage it could cause, the better. (even if there was no way in Hell these people here had access to genetically modified parasites or Leader Hunters, he wasn't going to take any risks)

The man frowned, then cleared his throat. "You've been ambushed in the past, haven't you?"

"No shit. So, if you would be so kind as to tell me what the fuck made you storm off like you did, while we are both young and pretty, that would be awesome."

Strider blinked at him, apparently not understanding. Alex huffed out and rolled his wrist. "Need a little hint?" He questioned, "Then let me help you. There was this one phrase, the one you three kept repeating. And every time you did, your heartbeat picked up. It scared you, didn't it?"

The man's eyes narrowed. "Which phrase?" Oh, that motherfucker. Alex was damn sure he knew what phrase he meant.

He rolled his eyes, and cast his mind back to the camp, back when he stood several yards away from Strider's tent and listening intently to the chatter between him and the elf twins. "It was something like 'I neder'."

The man flinched back, and his pulse picked up slightly- not as much as it had done back in the camp, but close enough. Alex pressed the matter further. "What does it mean? What is it?"

The Ranger was visibly debating with himself. "It's not a 'what'. It's a 'who'?"

Okay... "And who scared you out of your mind like that?"

The man furrowed his brows deeper, then carefully translated it. "The Nine", he pointed out, and his sharp eyes never left Alex's face. The Runner instantly knew he was being carefully scanned, but the term didn't mean anything to him.

He leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Nine what?"

That seemed to wake the man up, because his brows drew together in a confused manner. "The Nine Ringwraith. The Dark Lord's most powerful servants-"

It was like static inside his head, turning into an ear-splitting screech that drowned out whatever Strider was saying. The Dark Lord- that was something he'd heard recently. Better yet, he heard it when he consumed the Orcs.

The Dark Lord was their Master. Capital M. The Great Eye in the East- but they didn't know more, had been without contact for a very long time and several generations, in fact.
Alex cocked his head, brows furrowing. "I know this 'Great Eye' thing has more servants, but I never heard of these 'Ringwraith'-"

The ranger jerked back, his hand flying to the handle of his sword instantly, and his expression turned tight. "How do you know?" He demanded to know.

The Runner snorted. "Calm down. I'm just describing what the Orcs told me." He lifted his hands, palms up. "And that's also about what I know at the moment. In the east there is someone who is called a Great Eye, and who is someone they fear and follow. They didn't tell me more." He was missing some key elements for the complete picture. From what he could tell, the brains of these things were...lacking, in the better sense of the word. While it had been enough to send him spiraling, the memories in themselves were hardly comprehensive, and he figured it had to do with generations of inbreeding and barely-remembered stories their great-great-great-grandparents told them. (on that note, it was kind of surprising they've gotten weapons and a decent ambush together)

Strider glared at him for another few moments before he pulled back, astounded. "You...you really have no idea." It was a statement, not a question.

Alex shrugged. "Thought that had been established already."

The Ranger stared at him with the kind of expression that just screamed 'But everybody knows'. He hoped his own was enough to reply 'Apparently not, dipshit'. The man blinked, so it was probably enough.

The Runner leaned back, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Maybe we got off the wrong foot here. So how about we'll start small. Where am I?" The Orcs didn't have a real name for the place, except for 'man's land', so he needed to cross-reference the stars they navigated by and the mountains to realize he wasn't anywhere near Manhattan.

He just hoped the answer wouldn't make him flip his shit (again) as he watched Strider. "We are in the Land of Eriador", the man began, "Better yet, in the Northern Region of Arnor, and we are currently north of the Weather Hills. To our West is the lost city of Fornost-" He cut himself off, likely noticing the blank stare Alex most likely had on his face. "Are you alright?"

"Continent", the Runner bit out, trying to file everything away, and trying to keep the urge to throttle something at bay. It was bad enough that he knew he was in the wrong place, but to hear it confirmed...

Strider blinked at him. "Continent?"

Oh, right. He probably didn't know the word. "Land Mass."

Recognition filled his features and he nodded. "Middle-Earth. We're near the Western Shore." He cut himself off again, and inclined his head. "Still doesn't mean anything to you, doesn't it?" He must have seen his face, because his brows pinched slightly. "Ah, where do you come from, then? Maybe I have heard of it?"

"Doubt it", Alex muttered. He exhaled coldly, unclenching his fists. "North America. United States of America. East Coast. New Jersey. New York City. Manhattan Island." He squinted briefly, remembering the choppy helicopter flight. "Or more like fifteen miles off its coast really."

The Ranger frowned, thinking. "Never heard of it, either."

The other snorted. "Would be surprised if you had." He pointed upwards, indicating the darkening skies. "I may not know much about constellations, but I sure as Hell know they looked a lot different back home than they do here."

Strider's face fell. "Oh"

Yeah, oh. Alex still didn't manage to get used to the fact he was in a completely different world, but oh was a perfect way to describe the feelings he had towards this problem. Really, perfectly suited.

Before he could grind out any fitting comment, the Ranger sighed and stared at the sky. "The Nine-", he began after a moment, "They used to be men. But they were lured in by Sauron's promises. One by one they were drawn to him, and now serve him."

Alex cocked his head, surprised by the sudden change in topic. At the same time, he was grateful that he could converse about something else than the home he had lost, avoiding another spiral.

Come to think of it, that was probably why Strider did it.

He cocked his head. "Sauron? I guess he's the one the Orcs refer to as Great Eye, isn't he?"

Strider nodded. "He has tried to destroy the free lands once, and had been stopped- but he was never defeated. Now he's back and building his armies."

Armies? That sounded promising. And it gave him something to do. "The Nine are his strongest servants", Strider continued, still watching the sky, "Growing in power just as their master does."

That...that sounded suspiciously familiar. Like Greene's Infected similar. But...that couldn't be, could it?

"They are like you", Strider continued, and Alex's heart stopped. His head snapped to the side, eyes flashing luminous yellow as the colors and sounds around him faded into muted browns and oranges. He was the only one glowing white, Strider didn't show up against the background.

The Hive was silent.

His brows came down, and he mentally replayed the conversation once more. They are like you. Nine Ringwraith.

...Wait. 'Wraith' was an archaic term for 'Ghost', or 'Specter'- and Strider had witnessed him resurrect himself, from a puddle on the floor.

Ah.

So that was why they had been skirting around him like they've done.

Alex snorted, and shook his head. His vision slipped back into the normal range. "I'm not a Wraith", he pointed out simply, making Strider stop...whatever it was he was doing. From the look of things, he looked like he'd been in the process of freaking out. Probably his eyes, people usually don't react kindly when he switches to Infected Vision.

The Ranger blinked, brows arching slightly. He eyed the Runner, then tilted his head. "I already assumed as much- you are radically different than what I know about the Ringwraith."

"Oh?" That sounded interesting- if these things were the strongest unit of this Dark Lord, then it would be useful to know about them.

"They are shades", Strider seemed more animated now he had Alex's attention. "They are invisible to a normal man's eyes, only those that can see the world of the spirits can see their true faces. They fear the sun, and travel only at night, disguised as robed riders." He scanned the Runner briefly. "All things that do not apply to you."

Well, most of those parts really didn't match, though the face he was wearing wasn't his real one either.

"You are scared of them." It wasn't a question.

"They are the most dangerous servants of the Dark Lord", Strider confirmed.

Alex inclined his head. "You aren't scared of me."

The man furrowed his brows. "Not in the same way, though I am terrified of you. But I also know you could have killed me. Killed my men with barely a thought. You didn't."

That was true, even if it had only been dumb luck on Strider's side. He'd been so cold, so empty, and there had been a body- several bodies- that could have warmed him, and he had been in the process of taking them too before he got distracted. Alex figured it was more intelligent to not tell him that, however.

"So", Strider continued, "I think you are more trustworthy than most men are."

It was easy how fast he trusted, Alex thought, because he probably never saw what he'd seen. But then again, he figured that around here were no men like Blackwatch, who would turn around and shoot their own teammates on the slightest suspicion. He couldn't decide whether it was admirable to have such a good opinion of his own team, or whether it was dangerously naive. "However-", the man's voice pulled him back to attention, "I can not tell you about the mission I was given."

Alex shrugged. "I don't care", he explained honestly. "I'm just traveling around, and you seem the most interesting choice to follow around." For now, maybe he would find something more interesting to focus on sooner or later-

Anything to try and keep his mind off Manhattan. Away from Dana.

Because, frankly, if he didn't manage to get a lid on it soon enough, he was going to break something. Manhattan barely survived his last rampage. This place here wouldn't stand a chance.

"Interesting?" Strider's voice sounded incredulous, pulling him back into the present. "I'm hardly interesting."

Alex snorted amused. "Really? Because you've witnessed me growing from a puddle- a puddle that ripped apart a bunch of giant dogs, I might add." He cocked his head, eying the bruises on the man's throat, "Then I manhandled you", Nearly ate him too, "And then I ripped apart a bunch of Orcs and drank them up like a goddamn smoothie, before I go crazy and devastate several square yards. And what do you do?" He pointed at the man with a smirk on his face. "You see all of this and go 'Screw this, I'm going to try to befriend this thing'. That's what defines very interesting."

Strider opened his mouth to retort. Closed it again. Squinted at the Runner. Slumped his shoulders in resignation. "My father always told me I had no sense of self-preservation", he muttered.

The next moment, he straightened his back and glared at Alex. "Will you swear loyalty to me then?"

"Loyalty?" Alex snorted. "No. I am only loyal to myself", he hummed briefly, then bared his teeth in a smirk. "I will, however, swear I will never harm you, or any of yours as long you give me the same courtesy. This goes for however long I decide to stick around, and beyond it- unless you give me a very good reason to break my word."

Strider furrowed his brows. "This is an offer I can accept, then."

24th September, Day 12
Finally arrived at a village. Strider calls it 'Bree', first larger collection of housing I've seen. He said he has to wait for somebody here. Not very exciting, but at least it'll give me the chance to learn a little more about this place. And no, I don't mean eating people, Dana. I'm just going to observe.

Alex sighed as he clapped the small book shut. He found it in Strider's camp, along with a pen. He'd taken it, first because he thought he could try and read something, but upon realizing that it was blank, decided to start taking notes (don't say a word, Dana. He was taking notes, it was not a diary). It wasn't like anybody would be able to read it anyways, since he was writing in English, and in the chicken scrawl he came to realize was Mercer's handwriting.

It was mainly to have something to do, and maybe so his brain would stop screaming and running in circles- It worked somewhat; at any rate he wasn't feeling the urge to maul the closest person so much anymore.

"I talked to the gate guard", Strider commented as he drew closer. Alex glanced at him. "He says that he didn't see any foreign Hobbits in the past days. Seems we are lucky."

"Lucky, huh", Alex shoved the book into the inner pockets of his jacket. Strider nodded. "I was afraid we would be too slow to intercept them."

"So we'll just head into town and what, hang around and wait for them to head in?"

"That was the plan, but I figured it would be better if we headed to the Prancing Pony."

Alex blinked in confusion. "Prancing...Pony?"

Strider grinned. "It's the only inn in town, and Gandalf was supposed to meet them there."

Oh well, better than loitering around like some muggers, he figured. Alex rolled his shoulders and went started heading down the hill towards the town. At the same moment, his surface erupted into thousands of tiny tendrils that subtly altered his appearance. He figured his leather-jacket-and-jeans-combination probably wouldn't sit well with people who looked like they came from 1400. So he changed his 'clothes' to match what Strider was wearing more closely- coarse textile instead of leather and denim, coat instead of jacket, boots instead of designer shoes. He kept the hood, the white stripes and the red symbol on his back, however, and smirked at Strider's boggled expression. "It's better if we fit in, don't we?"

It took a while for the Ranger to find his voice, even as he hurried after the Runner. "How- how did you-?"

"Let's just say, killing a whole lot of enemies isn't the only thing I'm good at." The guy's seen him shed his armor already with barely a reaction- something that made Blackwatch wary- so changing his outfit shouldn't be too outlandish then.

He was proven correct then when the man shook his head and followed after him, eventually taking the lead. Alex glanced around the village. He's never been to settlements like this- well, some of the Podunk towns in some of his memories fit pretty well, but even they have been larger- so he found he was a little interested. And, according to Strider, this was only one of three or four larger settlements in the entire area. Eriador was roughly six hundred miles across, and there were so few people it made places like the Australian Outback look crowded in comparison. Alex figured he was lucky he wasn't particularly hungry at the moment.

The entire settlement had been constructed at a T-crossing of two streets, and was surrounded by tall hedges and tiny wooden walls. It had three gates, and most housings sat to the north of the main street, nestled into a set of hills. Alex could also spot more houses, buried into the ground with round doors and windows further in the hills. The streets were somewhat empty, as to be expected at this time of the day.

The Prancing Pony stood at the intersection, and was easily the largest building around- having one main complex that stood two stories tall, and one stable complex- both connected through an arch that led into the inner yard. Alex could already hear the horses start pawing nervously at the ground as he drew closer, grimacing to himself.

Strider pushed the door to the common room open. At this time of the day, it was empty.

Nearly empty, Alex corrected himself when he spotted the guy standing at the counter. A guy who likely needed a footstool to even look over the counter, because he was only like three and a half feet tall.

Perfectly proportioned, just...tiny. For a frantic second, he almost thought he'd accidentally shifted into the shape of a D-Code, but his companion was still at the same size.

Alex blinked at him as Strider struck up a conversation with him. Apparently satisfied, he got a key from the short guy, and slightly shoved at Alex's arm to snap him out of his trance. "They haven't arrived yet", he whispered, "So we'll stay here until they do."

Alex glanced back at the small man, even as he was more or less dragged up the stairs. Strider noticed it, and snorted amused. "His name is Mathies, and he man's the counter from midnight till noon, before the owner takes over. He is a Hobbit. Halfling, if you prefer."

"Are all of them that small?"

"Yes. They are rarely taller than four feet", Strider explained. Then grinned. "I assume you never encountered folks like him?"

"No"

"Very well, keep your eyes open for more of them. The man we're looking for is a Hobbit himself. I think he will be in companionship with one other Hobbit. They will be asking for Gandalf."

Alex furrowed his brows. "Gandalf...Mithrandir?"

Strider blinked. "Yes, that's him."

"Who is he?"

He sighed. "A good friend. He was supposed to have met the Hobbit here, but he is missing."

Alex nodded. He could sympathize with the situation. Hell, he'd caused several of those himself. "How long do you think you'll have to wait?"

Strider shrugged. "Days? Only hours? I don't know." He grimaced briefly. "I do hope we don't have to venture to Hobbiton to collect them."

The Runner hummed. "So we're watching the inn then?"

"We will"

"It'll be too obvious if I stay inside the common room the entire day", he pointed out simply, glancing through the tiny windows to see the outside.

Strider nodded. "Good thinking. So we're taking shifts then?"

Alex snorted. "You know as well as I do that I don't sleep." He did rest however, but never slept. "I will keep an eye out from the outside. I'll let you know if I spot any Hobbits."

"You do that", Strider agreed after a moment. "Make sure they arrive here without harm."

"Will do", Alex loosely saluted the man and headed outside.

In the end, it took them another five days of waiting. In that time, Alex had acquainted himself with the little town and its closer surrounding area (being as fast as he was, this 'closer' surrounding area included a radius of easily ten miles). He knew he would be able to search more, but since there was barely anything else other than endless fields, meadows, hills and woods, he decided to keep his focus on the mile right around the hedge of Bree.

But the evening of the 29th September put an end to Alex's vigil when heavy clouds gathered. He smelled the rainstorm before it broke, and hastily returned to the Prancing Pony.

He let out a huff of relief when the door closed behind him, moments before the first fat rain drops splattered themselves across the cobblestone. Strider just arched his eyebrow in amusement when Alex carefully lowered himself into his chair. It creaked ominously.

"Don't like water", he growled. Not after he nearly drowned in the Hudson. He knew now it wouldn't have harmed him- he doesn't need to breathe, after all, but back then he had been fully convinced he was human, and the panic he felt when he hit the water ingrained itself deep inside his brain instantly.

"I wasn't saying anything", the man offered. He leaned back and lit his pipe. Alex glared at him darkly. His keen sense of smell suffered each time this Pipe-weed burned. He'd rather inhale a face full of Bloodtox than stay and endure the burning leaves. Since that wasn't an option, he deconstructed his olfactory organs with a scowl, inhaling freely once all sense of smell and taste was muted.

Then he settled in to wait. Until something interesting happened, or until the rain stopped, whichever came first.

The rain was still going strong, though winding down, when the door to the common room opened, and four tiny shapes stumbled in. Hobbits.

Alex had seen several already by now, knew they lived in and around Bree. Any of them could be the wanted ones, so out of habit he turned his attention towards the front. Butterbur, the owner of the inn, leaned over the counter to look at the four. Strider too was focusing on them, and Alex easily relayed whatever it was that was being told.

He inclined his head as he listened in. Even over the racket of a lively tavern, their voices were crystal-clear (he had heard soldiers yell orders even over the cacophony of a war zone, this was nothing). "He says the name's Underhill", he muttered, though he heard the hesitation before the Hobbit mentioned his name. Then his eyes narrowed. "They are looking for one Gandalf the Gray."

Strider nodded. "It's them, then."

"You said there would be two."

"I did. Seems they picked up some tag-along along the way."

Huh. It wasn't too much of a problem, Alex figured. And these four seemed to know each other, so if they got one to trust them, the rest would follow.
As Dana would say 'Reverse Swarm Intelligence'. The more there were, the less likely they were to think straight.

He could deal with that, and besides, he had a little time still, because the four turned to each other and questioned what to do now, until they decided to stay at the inn for now.

They picked a low table in a corner and sat down, ordering foods and drinks.

Alex took the time to study them- subtly of course. Two of them were similar in appearance and behavior- one had a slightly sharper shape to his face than the other, but they were similar enough. Both were loud and lively, chatting with the other patrons and enjoying their food, were also constantly alternating between their table and the bar.
The one who introduced himself as 'Underhill', didn't move from his place at the table and was obviously nervous. He kept alternating between staring blankly at some point on the table, and glancing around nervously.
The Hobbit besides him was more stout, somewhat larger- and very concerned about his companion. He took care he ate from his stew. He also scanned the room at large, quickly noticing Strider.

Alex sighed and nudged his foot against the man's shin. "Stop staring", he hissed at him.

Strider blinked and tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"You're staring at the Hobbits like you're going to mug them for cash. Not very intelligent."

The Ranger grimaced. "...I'm maybe not exactly be used to stick around in crowds?"

Mercer snorted. "Seriously? I've seen Hunters watch their prey more subtle than you are doing-" He cut himself off as he watched Underhill stop Butterbur and question him about 'the two men in the corner'. He turned a deadpan stare at Strider. "See what you've done? Now he's being told we're dangerous people that roam the wild. Good going at making them trust you."

Strider didn't say anything, just resumed his creepy staring. Alex would have slapped himself in the face with his hand, but barely refrained from doing so. Instead, he kept his ears perked into the direction of the Hobbit, noticing they way his pulse slowed, sinking in an almost meditative state.

Then he heard the heart give a jump, and he remembered a different place. A tiny thing made of metal, with only him and her in it. Her heart had jumped like that too.
The Hobbit whirled around, eyes wide at his youngest companion who happily exclaimed that he knew a Frodo Baggins, who was sitting in that corner and was related for him.

Alex heard the Hobbit's pulse change to one of frustration, and wanted to smack himself in the face for him. If that boy went on to call himself 'Underhill', then there was no good reason for anybody to blurt out his name like that in the open. Strider lowered his pipe, eyes wide under his hood and Alex also turned to witness the Hobbit storm over to his friend and stumble backwards.

And vanish.

Alex swore under his breath, his body half heaved out of his seat as he stared at the spot the Hobbit had been in. The drunks around all stumbled around, stepping away and scuffing along the dirty floor-

That dust didn't move like it should move.

It looked a lot like small hands and feet shoving it away as a body crawled backwards. His eyes flashed yellow and the world turned into blues and oranges. He himself was bright yellow, the fire and candles flickering white.

The Hobbit did not show up.

The Hobbit did not show up.

He could see the fleeting moments when a warm hand or foot touched the floor and left behind the echo of heat for a while, but he did not see the Hobbit.

His lips peeled away in a wide grin as he rose to his feet. Oh, the brat wanted to play hide and seek?

Good. He could play.

Things are starting to come together.