A/N: Joss is boss, and Tolkien's the master.

---

“Hey, honey! We’re home!” Wash called as they approached the ship.

“Where’s the captain?” Zoe asked, kissing her husband as he slid from the Mule.

“They’re not back yet?” Jayne asked surprisedly, dismounting as well. “Would’ve thought they couldn’t’ve taken any longer to run in circles than we did. Doc musta kept ‘em searchin’ under every blade o’ grass out there.”

“You left Mal, Kaylee, and Simon out there by themselves?” Zoe said, a hint of incredulousness breaking out from beneath her usually stoic calm.

“Didn’t particularly want to,” Jayne grumbled, checking his weapon once more. “He sent us back with the Mule. They got my guns out there.”

“As long as we know what we left behind,” Wash said with gentle sarcasm, holding onto Zoe. He wasn’t particularly pleased about having to leave the others alone, but he was certainly glad to come back to his ship and his wife and find them in no worse shape than he’d left them.

“And how to get ‘em back in one place,” Zoe insisted. “Don’t wanna get any more separated than we already are. Dunno why Mal wanted all the civvies off the boat, but he should still be wearin’ his comm, right?” she continued, ever practical.

Wash looked questioningly towards Jayne, who shrugged. “Right,” the merc said. As far as they knew Mal would try to keep in touch, but he had been acting strangely since their arrival, he probably wouldn’t much like an unwarranted interruption, and the old comms were known to be a mite touchy at times…

“Next time we go out with guns blazing, can we maybe put a bit of thought into which direction we’re charging in?” Wash asked, forestalling any further questions.

“Get to it soon as we call the captain,” his wife assured him. She touched the boxy black comm at her hip, tuning it in to Mal’s usual frequency. “Mal? Everything all right, sir?”

“Just shiny,” the sarcastic voice crackled to life after just slightly too long a delay.

“You don’t sound shiny,” Zoe said. “And it sure ain’t shiny to get two back when I expected six.”

“We’ll get there,” Mal reassured her. “Just haven’t found River yet. In the meantime, see what you can do to make Serenity look solid ‘n’ unappetizing. I’d prefer her invisible, but ominious’ll do in a pinch.”

“Sir,” Zoe said, obviously not sure what to make of her captain’s mystifying comment.

“Mal sent us to do evasive manuvers,” Wash broke in. “The Mule’s tracks led right back to the ship.”

“’Cause you’re good at haulin’ your pi gu halfway ‘round the planet whenever there’s a hint o’ danger,” Jayne said, pushing the ATV further into the cargo bay.

Wash raised an eyebrow at the larger man, even though he knew full well that he couldn’t intimidate Jayne. “That so? ‘Cause I kinda remember hauling my pi gu around to your side of the planet in order to pull you out of said danger.”

Zoe flattened her mouth, warning the arguing men to either shut up or ship out. “You got three hours before we come out with guns blazin’, and then I ain’t getting too concerned with coverin’ my tracks.”

“All right, Zoe,” Mal said, and then the buzzing comm went silent once more.

“But did he tell you where he’s headed? Of course not!” Wash complained.

“I can find him if I have to,” his wife assured him. “’Til then, let’s get a few of those rocks into a defensible formation around the hatch and see how much grass you’ve flattened.” Her back stiffened and her step a parade-ground march, Zoe walked out of the shuttle. Wash followed behind, motioning for Jayne to turn the Mule around for one more job.

---

“We don’t fire ‘til they head our way. Don’t need to draw more attention than what we get. They get too close too fast, we head up the ramp and close the airlock.” Zoe stalked about the impromptu bulwark surronding the back of the ship. The rocks were still spaced too far apart for her liking, but it wasn’t like they could add another layer of metal to the charred and dented hull. Not quickly enough without Kaylee, at least…

“Yeah, yeah,” Jayne muttered, waving her away. “We been over this. Ain’t like none of us have never seen a fight before.”

“Hopefully, we won’t see one today.” Book, too, had borrowed one of Jayne’s guns. Unlike Kaylee and Simon, he had not required much advice concerning its handling.

“Depends on the alternatives, preacher,” Zoe said quietly. The weight of the pump-action shotgun rested assuringly against her hip, and her husband’s eyes flickered between her and the horizon. Wash had changed out of his favorite Aloha-print; he said that he didn’t want to get it dirty in the crossfire. The first mate wasn’t quite sure she entirely believed her husband. Zoe thought he looked much more dashing in the vest, and Wash knew it. While the pilot usually didn’t concern himself overmuch with his appearance, he would occasionally do a little something if he thought Zoe needed impressing. That wasn’t as often as he thought, but she appreciated the effort. “We ain’t got no business with these folk,” she continued, turning the last word into a curse. “And I got no intentions of starting any. If they want to make trouble, we aim for their knees. They still want trouble, Jayne and I aim for heads.”

“And I’ll try not to throw off your aim too much when I drag you desperately back towards the ship,” Wash added. Her husband wasn’t truly a bad shot, but in a panic, his aim was not much better than Simon’s. When it came down to a gunfight, Zoe knew Wash was more concerned with not getting hit than hitting his target. That suited her just fine. Zoe wasn’t too keen on seeing her husband hurt, either.

She readied her shotgun. The creatures – whatever they were – were still out of range, but they wouldn’t be so for long. Already Zoe could see the light reflecting off their mismash of leather and steel armor. It wasn’t polished by any stretch of the imagination, but with that much smooth metal something was bound to reflect. Seemed strange that there wasn’t a kevlar or teflon piece amongst the lot of them, but no stranger than their lack of lasers, sonics, and mechanized projectiles. Once she’d silenced the inner corpral about the lack of weapons discipline, Zoe wouldn’t complain.

The horde got closer. By this point she could make out some of the features on the forerunners. She could’ve done without another sight of those tusk-like teeth or overmuscled hunching shoulders. “C’n I start shootin’ now?” Jayne’s finger twitched upon the trigger of his sniper rifle.

Zoe held up a hand, forestalling him just a little longer. The army might still just go around the ship. Maybe. And maybe Wash could get Serenity, as she was, off the ground to find her missing captain, mechanic, doctor, and little lost feng le. Not too gorram likely, but the first mate hadn’t given up hope quite yet.

The first of the horde reached a distance about twice the length of the bulwarks away. Zoe dropped her hand, and the remaining crew started shooting.

---

Inara ducked behind the solid airlock doorframe, feeling the clang of the arrow against Serenity’s dented hull as much as she heard it. Wood and pig iron might not be as accurate or immediately deadly as a .30 caliber bullet, but the larger projectiles were dangerous enough. Leaving as little of her form exposed as she could, Inara leaned forward and returned fire.

The Companion had never feared death and battle, but she always had felt herself better at other forms of conflict resolution than she was with violence. Unfortunately, there had not been much opportunity to try for an alternate means of negotiation with these people.

Inara did not precisely blame Mal for this fact. After all, Jayne was hardly the most diplomatic man she had ever met, either. And Zoe didn’t ask too many questions if her captian’s negotiations started to head south. Still, Malcolm Reynolds should have known. Inara did not know precisely what had happened, but either these beings were the most tempermental Inara had ever encountered by a long shot, or Mal had… been Mal, basically.

There would be time to be piqued with him later. First Inara would have to attempt to smoothe over this disaster, and to do that, she’d have to live through this.

“Watch your head!” The Companion eased back into position in time to see Wash shove Book out of the way of another arrow. It hit the dirt but a few inches from the shaken men. Book’s expression flickered for a moment before he returned fire, but the pilot continued to flinch, opening his round blue eyes just enough to place the muzzle of his weapon over the rock he crouched behind. “Are they falling back yet?” Wash asked after firing another burst.

“Afraid not,” the preacher answered, calmly considering his next target. “Perhaps it’s time to retreat.”

There was a click from Jayne’s machine gun, the rifle having been discarded as soon as the magazine had emptied. “We’re runnin’ out, Zoe,” the mercenary reluctantly agreed. “Mal wouldn’t let me buy any grenades last trip.”

Zoe nodded, never turning her head. “Get in, boys. Inara, shut the hatch.”

“Once you’re all in,” Inara replied stubbornly, letting off a shot of her own bow. Zoe continued to fire until Wash grabbed her arm, pulling her suddenly enough to throw off her aim.

“Hold it!” she said, making pilot, Companion, and preacher turn back around. “They’re leaving.” Indeed, there were no more arrows fired in their direction. Instead, the main group abandoned their dead, retracing their steps to go first west of the grounded Firefly, and then run to the south. It was the scattered few heading vaguely north that made Inara uneasy.

Jayne smiled. “We scared ‘em off.”

“Maybe for now,” Zoe allowed, turning to face the rest of the crew. “But maybe they just found a better target.”

---

“I don’t like this one. Nearly dark enough to be a Dunlending and wandering alone amongst the horses…” The old woman leaned against the old spear, frowning at her daughter-in-law and their strange visitor.

“The poor girl has lost her family. Is it any wonder she seems touched in the head? And she’s no darker than some of the Gondorian born; we’re close enough to the border that brown hair shouldn’t surprise you, Grandmother.” The younger woman wrapped a cloak comfortingly about River’s shoulders, and the girl smiled her thanks.

“Had a cousin who married into a Gondorian family. Wasn’t rich, but safer there. Steward sees as much as the eye; the king’s clouding over,” River read, glancing up at the sky.

The matriarch motioned her grandson back, as if afraid that the madness might be spreading. “Treasonous,” she muttered.

River placed a finger against the center of her forehead, covering the barely visible scar. “They didn’t touch his brain. Not with solids. Clouds will pass,” she attempted to reassure the elder woman. “Basic meteorology.”

The elder women glanced briefly at the clear sky and exchanged looks. “Her clothing is awfully strange, too,” the grandmother pointed out as if she hadn’t heard.

“You’re grasping at straws,” her daughter-in-law replied. “Let’s get the poor girl fed and then we’ll see if we can get something sensible out of either of you. Come along, Sigmund.” The boy followed trustingly in his mother’s wake, with his grandparent still guarding him the best she could with the ancient spear-cum-walking stick. River gave him a wink.

“He’ll come back. He knows you give them carrots,” she whispered.

The young boy glanced towards his granmother before leaning in towards her. “The Mearh?” Sigmund whispered back. River nodded and the boy’s face lit up. “Maybe someday he’ll let me ride him.”

The future stabbed suddenly into her brain with a clarity that her present rarely possessed, and River looked away, flinching in terror.