They were, without doubt, the strangest group she had ever seen before.

Small little things they were with curly hair and large, hairy feet that had no shoes upon them. They were about three feet tall and their faces were round and soft. They seemed, to the Shadowhunter perched high above in the branches of an old oak tree, to be very innocent and very foolish. Whatever these little people were, she decided, they reminded her of the mundane tourists who walked the streets of her city snapping photos of the buildings and trying to communicate in atrocious French.

There was one, with dark hair and a more careful look to him, who her eyes fell on with interest. He actually looked cautious and as if he was worried about pursuers or being seen. Yet, she noticed with amusement, that worry did not make him step any lighter upon the ground or choose to walk in the shadows of the trees instead of in the bright openness where anybody could watch them unobserved. Walking beside him was a stout, blonde haired one who seemed burdened with a ridiculously heavy looking pack. Behind them walked two more that seemed even younger and had a look to them that reminded Aiedale of her younger bother – trouble makers and not too bad as heart breakers either. Their most dangerous looking weapon, thought the Shadowhunter, appeared to be the blonde's frying pan.

Aiedale was torn. Did she go down and ask them for assistance? Or did she stay high up here and wait for some humans to appear? However, she had the impression that it would not be very difficult to escape should she need to. Besides it would be better to find out where she was for, the sooner that happened, the sooner she could be gone from this strange place.

So, smoothing her face of any emotion, she dropped from the branch and landed with all the surefooted grace of her kind upon the ground.

The creatures came to a sudden halt.

Silence.

They stared at each other. Each of the creatures fixed on her just as she was fixed on them.

Waiting. Watching.

The wind rustled some of the dead leaves that had fallen from the trees around them.

An autumn sun sent down its fading warmth as it slowly dropped towards the dip of the horizon.

As Aiedale looked them over the hobbits were also looking at her with wondering and rather frightened eyes. After all it was such a shock to see a dark figure, which reminded them horribly of the Black Riders, drop with light ease from a branch twenty feet above them and land as if she had merely stepped down.

Frodo, for he had been warned by Gandalf, was looking at her with particular care. He took in the body that seemed to be nothing but lean corded muscle and the bow slung across her back. He glanced at the cool jade green eyes that examined him and his companions with a watchful and guarded look – a gaze that he could not hold for long. The rusty red auburn hair was braided up and yet Frodo could see traces of what looked like dried blood along the base of her hairline. There were smudges of dirt and dried blood on her face. He knew - for he had seen some Big Folk before - that this girl was different. The look to her face and the way she was dressed – the very air around her – spoke of something foreign. It wasn't the all consuming, smothering darkness of the Black Riders or the soothing aura that hung around Gildor and his elvish companions that they had met as they set out from the Shire. No, it was something he could not name but it seemed to be almost alive. It was a kind of energy that hummed about her. Frodo was not sure what to make of her and he took a small stop away from her, aware, as he did so, of what he carried and what followed him.

"What are you?" asked Aiedale curiously and before she could stop herself or consider just how rude she was being.

How rude, snapped a voice in her head. Are you forgetting all your manners and skill at diplomacy?

"Who are you?" she asked again with more of an effort at courtesy. It had not escaped her how the dark haired one had stepped away from her nor the way the stout one stood closer to him as if to act as a shield.

"My dear lady," said the youngest looking one, "we are hobbits of the Shire!" His voice rose with indignation as if shocked that she would not know this very important fact. It was as if they had met at a party and not on an empty road in dark times. "My name is Pippen." He gestured at himself and then told her that the dark haired one beside him was 'Merry' and that the stout one was 'Sam-wise.' He paused for a brief moment on the last hobbit but said with a large smile, "And he is Frodo."

The one called Merry laid a hand on his friend's shoulder and said soothingly, "Big Folk don't know of us remember? It isn't their fault." His whispered words carried easily to her sensitive ears but she chose to pretend she had not for the sake of appearing normal – or at least as normal as a blood stained and armed girl in the middle of a forest can be.

"So," said Aiedale with an easy smile she had long ago perfected, "can you tell me where this is?" She gestured around them and then lifted her shoulders in a sort of small shrug as if to say 'I know it is such a silly question.'

It was Frodo who answered as if hoping by answering quickly they could just move on and pretend they had never met her. "We are a day's walk from Bree, Miss. Just outside of the Shire and the OldForest. You are north of Gondor and Rohan."

Now Aiedale was truly beginning to feel as if the world was crumbling around her. Those were places she had never heard before nor seen on any mundane or Nephilim or even Downworlder map. She knew there were other worlds, other dimensions, but so far only demons had ever been able to travel between them. The idea that she had – and it was beginning to sound like she had – made her feel rather sick to her stomach. After all, how did one get to another dimension - even more importantly to her - how did one get back? Besides what were hobbits exactly? What dangers lay in this world that she may never have encountered before? If she had traveled through the boundaries that separated the dimension from one place – her home – to another completely different land then the implications were mind blowing.

However, none of these thoughts or the dread growing inside of her, showed upon her smooth and implacable face. It was only a facade, however. Beneath the stillness was a rising wave of panic.

"Where are you going?" was her query asked in the same friendly, conversational voice. She guessed, quite correctly, that the hobbits did not travel much. Their very manner of dress and the way they had seemed surprised that someone did not know of what a hobbit was had told her that. She guessed that they would be going to somewhere populated either with more of their kind or to mundanes which they seemed to call 'Big Folk.'

"To Bree," said Frodo for he really was the leader and the cause of this adventure and so was required to take some control. "We have business there." He looked at her pointedly as if to say 'so let us be gone.'

Aiedale saw the look and understood it as a 'hurry up and go away' but it was then that something very strange happened. After all, Aiedale really had no wish to accompany the hobbits and it was quite a mutual feeling. However, it was then that Aiedale had the strangest and most unusual urge to offer her services as a warrior of Raziel to these hobbits who were obviously on the run from something. The feeling, a compulsion so strong she could not force it away, crept up on her and forced her to ask with genuine concern as if they were deserving and not completely foreign little hobbit: "Do you need help?"

She was just as shocked as the hobbits. What was wrong with her? What was happening? Her loyalty was hard to come by and each action, she knew, had a price.

Sam, who had been looking at her with the widest and most mistrustful eyes, said from his place right beside Frodo. "Why would you want to help us?" his voice started out certain but then faltered as he ended with a hurried, "if you don't mind me asking miss."

He wants to appear strong, said her mind, but is too unsure of himself to challenge her.

Yet, even as her thoughts wandered over the hobbits who stood uncertainly before her, Aiedale was puzzling over Sam's question. Finally she found an answer that did not involve strange compulsions or telling these little creatures that she was not from anywhere even remotely close to 'Bree' or the 'Shire.' She especially was not going to mention that she was Nephilim and therefore had a certain duty to help those in need. Drawing herself upright and ignoring the faint pings of pain that the movement caused, she met their gazes and said quietly and very seriously: "I am from very far away and I need to find a way home. By helping you I may be able to find that way." Aiedale was silent for a long moment and then said, "I can fight and, if you know the way, I will ensure that you reach your destination."

The hobbits looked at her as if she had grown two heads and yet, in their little faces, she saw something like relief. It was most apparent in Pippen and Merry who seemed to want someone to lean on – someone who could take the burden of leadership and care for them. Aiedale did not know yet of what these 'Black Riders' were or their effect on people but she could see the fear, the hesitation and the desire to know that someone was guarding them with a blade or bow.

"There is trouble following us," said Frodo with his earnest little voice. "You could be killed." His eyes were wide with the truth of what he was saying and the unspoken 'we could be killed to.' The hobbit swallowed nervously and gestured behind and then to sides, "Black Riders of the Enemy are following us."

It was then that strange compulsion came over her again. She felt as if turning away was not only wrong but would destroy any chance of finding her way from this dimension and back to her own home. She did not know what these Black Riders were nor what the Enemy was but it did not matter then. For, to say 'no' as many would have done when they were told such a thing, did not seem to be an option and each rule, each law that she had memorized from the Nephilim Codex, was telling her to offer her services. To help them and guide them as much as she could despite the danger and simple fact that she had no idea what she was getting into. She was Nephilim.

It was an insult to her pride and her heritage to walk away now.

Aiedale set her jaw.

Besides, whispered a soft voice in her mind, follow them and you might find some mundanes. Then you can see where it all goes.

What are you planning on doing? Do you think you can just muddle your way through this mess? Came that annoying and terribly honest voice from somewhere to the opposite of the positive one. A low growl escaped Aiedale's lips as this train of thought spiraled into the repetitive circle that solved nothing at all. The hobbits all looked at her anxiously but she merely nodded her head shortly, "Then let's move."

They stared at her. Open eyes and mouths slightly agape as if shocked that anyone would want to accompany them on this journey without so much as a single question. They were as surprised as Aiedale was and not nearly as irritated by it all. With an icy glare she gestured at the road and snapped, "We will walk beside the path. In the shadows. Come." Her words, delivered with sharpness of a general on a field of battle, served to move the hobbits far more quickly then she had hoped they would. With a sudden flair of embarrassment, Aiedale gestured at her chest, "I am Aiedale Darklighter."

Hobbits - it needs to be said now - were naturally trusting but they were wise enough in the ways of the world not to completely trust an auburn haired girl who looked like she had been through the wars. However, maybe the power that had brought Aiedale to this world was working on them just as it had worked on Aiedale. Maybe whatever had led them together and encouraged Aiedale to listen to her heart instead of her survival instincts, was helping the four hobbits see beyond first impressions and warnings delivered by an old wizard. They looked to her and saw something that made them accept her and treat her as if she was a long-standing member of their little group.

So they set out.

This time they took the shadows and, on occasion, they looked back to her as if expecting to see that she had slipped away. Each time they did, they were met by a cool frown that quickly sent them back to looking at the ground in front of their feet. The one who seemed the most suspicious of her was the one called Sam-wise. He kept glancing back and never left his master's side. His constant wariness and glances grated against Aiedale's nerves. She was the one who was volunteering her help and not the other way around!

As the hobbits walked ahead, Aiedale came behind and did her best to cover their racks. Of course she did not know much about forests or hunting in them for she had lived in a city of stone and concrete. She lived in Paris with its mix of ancient and modern. A city complete with a twisting labyrinth of catacombs buried deep beneath the streets where the foulest of demons walked. Yet she was a Shadowhunter and so she had been taught how to hide and how to erase. She knew how to confuse a follower and how to keep to the hidden places.

However, it was hard not to be impatient. Aiedale was used to speed and companions that moved with swift assurance from place to place like quicksilver. Hobbits knew nothing of that kind of speed and so she was left to walk quietly behind them and do her best not to stamp her feet with frustration. She was not that immature, she repeated to herself. You will not behave like a child.

Everything was wrong. The sun was too bright, the trees too silent and the air was heavy with something that felt terribly like anticipation. There seemed to a shadow following them and she often looked over her shoulder as if expecting to see something dark and deadly about to pounce upon the four hobbits. Yet, every time she looked back, all she saw was the brown and empty Road.

She fingered the hilt of the seraph blade hidden up her sleeve and wished she was not alone. She wished for the company of her brother, James, or even her cousins. Eleanor and Peter were superb fighters in their own right and they trained together since James and she had arrived at the Paris Institute. There had been many adventures shared between them as they tracked demons from crowded dance floors to the ancient catacombs and many places in-between. Thinking of them renewed the urgency in her search for answers and a way home. She would help these hobbits and then go her own way – they had told her that they were going to a human settlement. She would find her answers there.

Aiedale knew she was merely postponing the eventually confrontation of the truth. She knew she was burying it all and trying to focus on something else as if the truth would just go away. But her muscles were still sore, her mind still reeling and the entire thing felt so unreal that it was hard for her to accept that all this had happened. That one moment she had been sharing in the satisfaction of a completed hunt with her two cousins and younger brother...and then what? Her arrival in that quiet clearing completely alone was so...she didn't know what it was.

A desperate wish to know why and how she had come here was growing inside of her. She could feel the pent up frustration, her fear and longing to just go home and this strange world building within her. For a brief second she stopped and tried to rein it all in. She was stressed beyond her mind and, despite the energy rune she had given herself, she was exhausted and that was playing havoc with her strung out emotions. If she continued along this way she would be able to take it no more and collapse in tears. Duty, she knew, came first. Her duty was to these hobbits and protect them from whatever was after them. There would be time later to cry, to vent her frustration on something but that time was not now. Time later to find a way back. There would be time because she would make sure there was time and no one was taking a one-way trip to an early grave.

Stepping forward, she tapped Frodo lightly on the shoulder and said softly in his ear. "What exactly is chasing you?" They were moving a few feet from the road along a small game trail that was shadowed from view by the heavy underbrush and trees. They could catch glimpses of the road every few feet as the trees broke enough or the underbrush grew thinner.

They did not slow their pace but the others drew closer to listen to their friend explain the strange shadows that they knew little of themselves. Frodo was silent for a moment and then said, "The Black Riders. They are shadows and I do not know how one might kill them. The Riders are on black horses and keep to the shadows – they like the night." He sent her an apologetic glance as if sorry he could not give her more information. For, as he had rightly guessed, she wanted all and every piece of information so that she would know exactly what they were dealing with and the best possible way to deal with it.

Sam murmured softly, "They make one feel all funny. Cold and as if there is no light or love in the world. It's a right nasty feeling Miss Aiedale. Makes me want to go and hide for a good long while somewhere they can't find me."

Aiedale digested this information and decided that these 'Black Riders' sounded a little like demons who sucked the life and energy from a mundane. Most things that wanted love or happiness or the desire to live were things that could not have it – things that were born of shadow and darkness.

"How much farther to the destination you had in mind?"

"A few hours," said Merry who had the best idea of their location. "We spent a little too long in the OldForest to try and evade the Riders who stay to the Road."

Looking back in the direction they had come, Aiedale felt her senses tingle with warning. They needed to move. She did not really know what the Black Riders were and so she gently rested her gloved hands on Merry and Pippen's shoulders and pushed them forward a little. Despite her best efforts to keep it restrained, her temper was rising within her. It was egged on by instincts that had never failed her before and the hobbits apparent lack of any survival skills. She was not hot headed by nature, quite the opposite, but she was running on nothing but adrenalin and emotion.

Aiedale looked up. The sun was beginning to fall and darkness would come soon. For her that was nothing for the darkness was her friend and could hide her better then the sunlight mottled shadows of the trees ever could. However, the hobbits were not like her and could not see nor hear nor move like she could.

She looked at the hobbits and found that they had slowed a little and were looking at her with their nervous, trusting yet hopeful eyes that made her feel like some sort of mother hen clucking her brood along. Even Sam, the wariest of them, and Frodo, who carried all the responsibility, were looking at her as if hoping she might pull a rabbit from a hat and say 'look! I have a solution!'

Forcing a smile to her face she spoke, "Then we will have to pace ourselves." She might have been proposing an afternoon stroll and not a carefully controlled run through the forest. Yet, despite the false cheeriness to her voice was a steely forcefulness that made the hobbits stand a little straighter.

"You mean run?" asked Sam with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. His blue eyes widening as if the thought of running – most likely jogging – was the most shocking idea he had ever heard. Aiedale felt like rolling her eyes but suppressed the childish impulse.

"Yes," was the unyielding response, "and then walk and then run. Or you can stay."

Her gaze fixed on him and Sam found himself unable to formulate a response as she glared at him. Under its intensity he felt about as big as an ant as this strange girl met his gaze and forced him to come to the silent conclusion that the only way they would reach Bree safely was to move and to move quickly. Sam knew that they needed to get there and find Gandalf and that, once they did, Frodo would be safe again. He would run the whole way for Frodo but that did not stop him from resenting the way this 'strange girl' told him to do it.

Aiedale watched with some amusement as Sam blanched and looked away. The other three wisely chose to say nothing and continue walking. After a brief explanation of how they were to pace themselves, the hobbits started their jog towards Bree. They could not run easily with their packs and neither did they have the stamina to go for long at a good pace. But hobbits are sturdy folk and they tried their best.

While they puffed their way along the small game trail, Aiedale came behind. She was doing her best to destroy the track that seemed, to her at least, to look like an elephant had rampaged around. The exercise was enough, at that particular point in her awful day, to induce some choice curses in French. The hobbits, she decided, were the worst travel companions she had ever had. They knew nothing of secrecy or silence. Maybe it wasn't fair of her but she was not feeling at all sympathetic to the panting, sweaty faced little hobbits.

There was, the longer they journeyed together, the question of just why these hobbits were out here like this. The question was added to the growing metal list of 'Top Priority Things' that would be answered the moment she had the hobbits somewhere that was defensible. Once she got there...well, she would ask them not only why but what made them take such a journey. It was obviously crucial to them and she could not help but wonder if they had expected some more help. Maybe they were hoping to meet up with someone at this 'Bree.'

Finally, as the sun began to set, they found themselves on the edges of the forest and, a little ways away, was the town of Bree. Upon the seeing the collection of stone houses nestling on the hillside with windows that looked west, Aiedale felt her already low spirits sink even lower. The sight of this medieval town was just one more confirmation that she had found herself in another dimension. There was nothing neither remotely modern - not even Shadowhunter or Downworlder - to this collection of dirt streets, stone buildings and thatched roofs.

Of course, what Aiedale did not know, was that Bree was the chief village of the Bree-land, a small inhabited region that was like an island in the empty lands about it. She did not know that this town was the largest mundane settlement she was likely to find this far to the West. To her, a girl used to thriving metropolises, it was a tiny little town with even tinier houses. If she was unimpressed however, the hobbits meanwhile felt quite overwhelmed by the sight of towering Big Folk houses. The sight did not reconcile itself with the hobbit idea that a home was a cozy little hobbit hole.

The gates were still open but would soon close as night fell. Aiedale, before allowing the hobbits out into the open, stopped them. Their weary faces turned to look at her and she felt a small pang of guilt at how hard and ruthlessly she had pushed them forward. She gestured towards the small town and asked, "What is your plan?"

Frodo looked over towards the town that was lit with the dying rays of the setting sun. Turning back to Aiedale he said, "We are supposed to meet an old friend called Gandalf. Hopefully we will meet him and then continue east." He stopped and looked at Aiedale who nodded and then he continued, "The Prancing Pony Inn was recommended to us by a friend we stayed with during our time in the Old Forest. At least until we know of Gandalf, we will stay there."

Aiedale was uneasy. She did not like the idea of how public this 'inn' might be and, if Frodo and his companions wished to go unnoticed…well it seemed a tall order indeed. Gossip traveled quickly, she knew, in small isolated places where people had too much time on their hands. Resting both hands on Frodo's shoulders she asked quietly and very seriously, "Is it common for hobbits to ride to Bree?"

"No," said Pippen from behind him, "or at least not hobbits from the Shire. A few live here but we have little to do with them. They live in Bree-land and do not often do they come to Buckland or farther into the Shire." His voice had lost its pep somewhere along the trail and his eyes had the forlorn look of a tired child wanting to go to bed after a long day.

Aiedale bit her lower lip. It was as she had thought and, while she really owed them nothing, it seemed wrong to just leave them now. Suddenly, it felt as if they were her only connection in this strange land. Without their companionship, as challenging as it might be, she felt very out of place and alone. No, she would not leave them now but neither would she just walk in behind them with no hood to cover her face nor any idea how people behaved here. She guessed, from the medieval look of the place, that women would be relegated to the home and hearth, an idea she found positively archaic.

Looking at the silent hobbits, she said quickly, "You will go into Bree. Say only that you are visiting relatives but will be staying at the local inn. Is that possible?"

Merry was silent for a moment and then he nodded slowly. "Yes," he said, "it is a good story. But what about you?" His eyes flicked over her and then back to her face with a wary look as if afraid she would be insulted by his next words. "It's not common to look like you do."

Quickly thinking ahead the young Shadowhunter continued, "I understand which is why no one but you four will see me." Their eyes widened and Fordo opened his mouth but she cut him off. "Not now," she looked at them beseechingly, "please. I will explain why and how when we are behind a door in this inn you speak of." Seeing the expressions on their faces she asked them, "Have I led you astray yet? Trust me on this."

They were silent for a moment before Frodo nodded and said, "Very well." Turning to his companions he said sternly, "Remember I am to be Mr. Underhill, if any name must be given."

"And go right to your room," said Aiedale firmly. "You do not want to become the centre of attention so go there and we will try to find this friend of yours." The hobbits nodded and drew the hoods of their cloaks up so that they covered most of their faces before setting out. Just as Frodo turned to leave, Aiedale placed one small but firm hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "I have questions for you to, Mr. Underhill."

He turned and met the cool light green eyes that seemed incredibly old for the youthful looking face. Frodo sighed and whispered, "I will do my best. As will you I hope?"

She nodded and removed her hand from his shoulder before dodging around the trunk of an old oak tree and sinking into the shadows. Slipping her stele from its resting place along the inside of her boot she drew on a glamour which would hide her from all who did not know the truth of what they were seeing. She knew it might not work in this place but, if it did not, then it was no great feat to slip into a building from the back and then sneak her way to the hobbits. The test would be here, at the gate where, from what she could see, an aged looking man was sitting.

Once her glamour was raised, Aiedale slipped out and made her way after the hobbits who were hurrying along the path towards the village. The sun was nearly gone and the stars beginning to come out across the dark expanse of the sky. It made Aiedale rather happy to see so many. The last time she had seen a real night sky had been in Idris after the battle with Valentine and his demons. The memory of the celebration and the dancing that had followed brought a small smile to her lips even as it turned faintly bitter with the memory of all those who had died. Happy memories, she thought darkly, always seemed to be tinted with sadness.

With that her steps quickened. She would not think of it – she would confront all of this later. For now she had a duty to four little hobbits and that was quite enough for her.