So this is my first Lord of the Rings story, and it's been driving me nuts. I had to write it down. I HAD to. Although you will notice it does not start at the very beginning. That is because I am AWESOME, and I want you to wait to learn about her involvement with the story. . . or how she came to be. You will notice that she says odd things for that time period.

But please don't kill me if I deviate from the original story line just to put some hot-steamy stuff in here. . . .okay just kidding(maybe not ;) ). But seriously, it is not my fault if something is incorrect, I only ask that you message me or whatever so that I may possibly fix it. I will warn you though, this story was written when I was half asleep and living off of M&M's and soda. . . . you don't want to know. It isn't crazy or anything, but I'm just warning you IF it does, it is NOT my fault. Okay on with the story.

Oh and the main character sometimes swears vividly, depends on her day. . . . okay. STORY TIME.

Chapter One: Adventure Time!

The sky was cloudless, the wind blowing over the grassy plains. The golden stalks of grass waving gently in the wind. It was calm and serene. Then up on the faint horizon stood a man. He paused briefly, turning to his companions coming up behind him. They stood silhouetted against the bright day sun. A man, an elf, and a dwarf. And standing just barely behind them, half hidden in their shadows, was a woman.

Her dark mane of curly hair was bound back into a windblown braid, reaching almost down to her waist. She wore the garb of a ranger, yet at the same time looked regal and beautiful. Her brown eyes swept over the plains, just as her companions. Yet, unlike them, she did not hold herself up fully. She was hunched slightly, her right arm tucked into her side, the staining of blood on her tunic giving away her poor state.

This was a proud woman. Not easily swayed by sweet words, and kind actions. She was wary, and cautious. At her waist hung a belt, with a sword tucked into it. The metal working showing it was of elven craft. Her petite nose twitched as she took in the faint smell of foul Uruk-hai, she was sensitive to smell. Finally the man who first appeared, turned to his companions with a firm determination in his eyes.

"They have traveled this way," he said, "quickly we must follow." And so, they began to run. The woman barely able to stay abreast with the dwarf, who puffed along grumpily. They ran for a time until they stopped. The man bending down to pick something up.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall," he murmured. "They may yet still be alive." The woman plucked the brooch from the mans hands and studied it. Her face lined with worry. Finally she tucked it into her pocket and followed after her companions.

When they woke the next morning the elf stood up alone on an outcropping of rocks. He watched as the sun rose. Red in color. Slowly and haltingly the woman joined him. Grimacing in pain as she held herself upright. "The red sun rises," spoke the elf, ominously. "Blood has been spilt this night."

"Let us hope that it was not Merry or Pippin's. Let us hope that they are well," replied the woman quietly. The elf looked down at her. "I shall carry you today, if you permit me to," he told her calmly. The woman shook her head, stubborn as always.

"Nay, my friend. While you run, I run." The elf sighed half annoyed and half amused. But the day could not wait any longer. The travelers began running yet once more. It was soon that they heard the beating of hooves. The woman halted first, drawing in a sharp breath as her wound was jarred painfully.

"Horses," she breathed. The called for them to hide in the rocks. The horses drew near and they were able to make out the riders. The Rohirrim, were riding swiftly. At their front rode a rider with a white horse's mane as a plume for his helmet. The banner's showed a white horse rearing. When they had passed, the man stepped out, slowly followed by his companions.

"Riders of Rohan!" called the man in a loud clear voice. "What news from the Mark?" And the riders, as if surprised and angered, quickly turned their horses in an arch, heading back for them. As they neared the horses formed a ring around the travelers, closing in tightly and forcing the travelers to step closer to one another. The rider, on a white horse, with the white maned plume in his helmet leveled a spear on them. He was followed by his companions.

"What business does an Elf, a Man, and a Dwarf and. . . a woman, have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!" he demanded in a sharp and to the point voice. He glared down at them. His pause though at realizing they traveled with a woman was not missed by the woman herself. She glowered silently at the rider.

"Give me your name, Horse-master, and I shall give you mine," said the dwarf. The rider took offense to this and swiftly dismounted his steed. Drawing his sword fluidly and pointing it at him. At the same time the elf drew his bow and aimed an arrow.

"I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground," he sneered. "You would die before your stroke fell," snapped the elf in anger. And then the other riders trained their spears on the elf. The man stepped forward, signaling for the elf to lower his bow. The woman placed a hand on his back and the elf lowered his bow grudgingly.

"As for that," he continued with narrowed eyes, "the stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am named Eomer son of Eomund, and am called Third Marshal of Riddermark."

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. And this is Lovisa of Rivendell. We are friends of Rohan, and of Theoden, your King."

The rider, Eomer, took off his helm and held it under his arm. He seemed to pause as he considered what to say. "Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe. Not even his own kin." He looked disgusted for a moment before he continued warily. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan, and for that we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets." He looked pointedly at Legolas as he said 'spies'. It was obvious that the elf unnerved him.
"We are no spies. We track a party of Uruk-Hai, Westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive," said Aragorn gravely.
"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night," said Eomer.
"But there were two Hobbits! Did you see two Hobbits with them?" spoke the woman for the first time. Lovisa waited his response with eagerness. Her gaze filled with hope. Eomer hesitated, watching the woman. "They would be small. Only children to your eyes," she added, her brown eyes filled with worry, her voice strained.
"We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them," replied Eomer, watching her reaction. Lovisa's face fell, her eyes losing their light of hope. Eomer hoped that she would not start weeping. To his surprise she did not.
"Dead?" echoed the dwarf, Gimli. Lovisa raised a hand and gave the dwarf a comforting squeeze. "Do not lose hope yet, Gimli."
"I am sorry," said Eomer. He watched them as they took in the news. He needn't worry about the woman, Lovisa, she did not look as if she would weep. He whistled and called, "Hasufel! Arod!" Two horses came threw the tight wall of horses and stood next to the man. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. But there is one thing I must ask of you," he said. Aragorn nodded, "what is it?"

"The lady. . .she is safe traveling in your company-?"

"I am," cut in Lovisa. "I am an equal to my companions. Not a pampered lady." Her eyes were alight with fire, and she glared at Eomer. He seemed surprised at her outburst, but before he could do anything, Aragorn butted in. "Lovisa is unfamiliar with the customs of these lands. Where she is from women are allowed to do many things." Eomer eyed her warily and finally with nothing to say put on his helm. "Farewell." He mounted his horse as he cast Lovisa a strange look that she could not identify. "Look for your friends. But do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands," he told them gravely. "I hope we meet again."

Aragorn raised a hand in farewell as the Rohirrim rode away, turning to Lovisa once they were gone. "You must learn to hold your tongue, Lovisa," he admonished, taking the bridle of Hasuful and looking over the horse with a stern gaze. Lovisa 'huffed' in annoyance but held her tongue.
"Come, let us find what has befallen Merry and Pippin," said Aragorn mounting Hasuful and holding out a hand for Lovisa. She gripped his arm firmly as he pulled her up into the saddle. Legolas and Gimli rode on Arod.
In the distance smoke rose. The sun and pale sky showing the stark contrast. With somber looks they headed for the smoke.

The two horses carrying two riders crested the hill. Looking down at the sight below the riders took in the smoking pile of black bodies. The stench of burning flesh reached their noses as they led the horses further. Then they dismounted, letting the horses stayed tied to a tree as they approached the pile.
The mass of black bodies was overwhelming. Their scared faces looked up in agony as they passed. Forever frozen in their eternal screams, their last moments as they fell to the blades of the Rohirrim. Lovisa spared them only a disparaging glance as she turned to look about the clearing for anything.
It was Aragorn's anguished yell that drew her back. He yelled, kicking a discarded helm as he dropped to his knee's, burying his hands in his hair. Tangled from neglect. He moaned, as Legolas placed a hand on his shoulder. Gimli came forward from the mass of burning bodies. On the tip of his axe was a burned belt.
"One of their wee belts," he murmured. Lovisa shut her eyes tightly as despair began to latch onto their hearts.
"We failed them," Aragorn moaned. Lovisa opened her eyes, ready to go knock some sense into the man. But that was when she noticed the prints. She gasped, drawing their attention.
"Aragorn! Look!" He came forward on his knees, his fingers brushing over the trampled grass, as he read the tracks.
"A hobbit lay here. . . and here," told them, surging forward with new energy as he found more imprints. He pulled a rope up from the grass, "their bonds were cut!" Then Aragorn stood facing the dark and foreboding forest. "They went into Fangorn."
"Surely they did not?" Lovisa asked, a concerned frown upon her face. From what she knew of the woods, it was a dangerous place.
"Come. Let us find out friends," Aragorn said determined, as he led them into the trees.
The forest was dark. The air felt hot, and stale, tasting old with no wind. The trees groaned as they passed, creaking. Legolas looked out himself with awe in his eyes. Gimli followed behind warily holding his axe. The elf placed a hand on a trunk, closing his eyes.
"The tree's are speaking," he sad softly. Gimli snorted. Raising his axe as if to protect himself, the trees began groaning loudly. Lovisa stepped closer to Aragorn.
"Gimli, lower your axe," said Aragorn.
"They have feelings, my friend. The elves began it, waking up the trees, teaching them to speak," said Legolas. They continued forward, Gimli looking after them slack-jawed.
"Talking trees. What do trees have to talk about, hmm?" he said pompously, "except the consistency of squirrel droppings?" He looked around himself darkly. "Such a dark, dingy-" the trees near him began to shake and the dwarf quickly revised his opinion. "I mean, charming. Quite charming!"
"Gimli you will be left behind!" Lovisa called to him. They continued further into the wood. Lovisa staying near Aragorn, her hand gripping her sword hilt instinctively. Suddenly Legolas stopped, his bright eyes sweeping through the dense forest.
"Aragorn, nad no ennas!" he said urgently. Aragorn came up behind him, his gray eyes now wary.
"Man cenich?" he asked. Legolas's eyes darted to the right. "The white wizard approaches." Aragorn stepped forward, his face grim. Lovisa came up beside him now watching the woods with the same trepidation.

"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us!" Aragorn commanded them. Lovisa gripped her hilt tightly, Aragorn mirroring her actions. Gimli tightened his hold on his axe as Legolas fingered his arrow. "We must be quick," Aragorn whispered.

Suddenly the gloom and darkness was filled with a startling bright light that blinded them. Legolas let his arrow fly, as Aragorn and Lovisa's swords became hot, they dropped them. Lovisa held her burned hand before her keeping her gaze fixed on the forest floor.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits," an mysteriously familiar voice said to them. Aragorn was angered, he yelled, "Where are they?"

"They passed this way, the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?" the speaker asked once more.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" cried Aragorn. Lovisa felt the light diminish, and could not help it as she looked up, her eyes widened. Not out of shock, but pure joy. Her companions bowed to him as she stared open mouthed.

"It cannot be!" exclaimed Aragorn. Legolas looked distraught. "Forgive me. I mistook you for Saruman." Gandalf looked at him and spoke in a rather enlightened voice, "I am Saruman. Or rather Saruman as he should have been."
"You fell!" said Aragorn, still in disbelief at Gandalf's sudden appearance.
"Through fire. And water," said Gandalf, his gaze becoming cloudy with memory. "From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought him, the Balrog of Morgoth." Lovisa shivered at the sudden thought of the Balrog that they had met in Moria. "Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me. And I strayed out of thought and time. . . Stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as the life age of the earth. But it was not the end. I felt light in me again. I've been sent back until my task is done."
Lovisa fell to her knee's with relief, her side aching with the burning pain but she ignored it. "Gandalf!" she breathed. Gandalf looked at her with a faintly surprised expression before comprehension dawned on his face.
"Gandalf? Oh yes. That's what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."
"Gandalf!" echoed Gimli.
"I am Gandalf the White," said Gandalf with a bit of a smug air, at least that is what Lovisa thought. "And I come back to you now, at the turn of the tide."

Okay so, a bit boring maybe. But I know that it will get AWESOME! And what do ya think of Lovisa? Her name is Swedish and means "famous in war". . . basically. Oh and before I forget here are the translations for the Sindarian:

"nad no ennas!" - something is out there

"Man cenich?" - What do you see?

Any suggestions? I will write later. . .