Chapter One: Greetings! I'll be your Hero today!

"WOOOOHOOO!"

The Guardian fell through the air, laughing like a maniac as she plummeted to the ruined tower beneath her. Sol, her Ghost, screamed as he always did when she did something crazy. Lower and lower they fell, the Hunter flipping over as she passed the top of the tower to boost herself into what appeared to be an opening in the side of the rocks. She rolled, white-gold cloak flaring behind her as she slid to a stop. Sol materialized next to her, his golden shell shimmering in the moonlight.

"Please never do that again," he begged, sounding extremely nauseous as he spoke, his shell moving and optic flashing with each syllable.

The Hunter thought for a moment before looking to the Ghost and smirking under her helmet. "Nope, totally doing that again," she said with a grin. "That was awesome!"

The clatter of metal and the unmistakable hissing of blades being drawn from scabbards had her spinning around, bringing the Ace of Spades to bare. Only for Saera to point the weapon up as a group of children appeared before her eyes, the group clustered around a fire pit with food on the pans. Or at least they looked like children. They were small, wearing slightly ragged travel clothing covered in cloaks, their small hands filled with blades of decent craftsmanship. What caught her eye about the little people were their feet. They were bare, no shoes or boots, or even sandals. Just bare hairy feet. She and her Ghost exchanged a glance before she looked back at the little people.

There were four of them, a chubby one with curly brown hair, soft brown eyes and pots and pans galore tied to his pack. The smallest of the four had light brown hair and shock-green eyes, with a bit of mischief shimmering behind them. The second smallest looked close enough to the smallest to be related, having tawny brown hair that curled haphazardly around his head. The final small one was a bit taller than the rest, black hair falling in waves around his head, sky-blue eyes looking on in fear. She took note of how the other three formed a barrier between her and the black haired one.

She raised a hand and slowly put her hand cannon away. "Sorry about my intrusion, little ones," she said in a jovial, disarming tone. "I wasn't aware anyone was here. What with me falling from the sky and all."

They didn't respond for several moments, each one exchanging a look with the others. She looked to Sol, who responded with the Ghost version of a shrug.

Frodo Baggins

Frodo had always possessed an interest in the unknown, after all he was part Took. But ever since his journey to take the One Ring to meet Gandalf at the Prancing Pony, and then to the elven city of Rivendell, his sense of wonder had dulled a great deal. Now faced with an unknown warrior, he was terrified, his anger at Sam, Merry and Pippin lighting a cook fire so late in the night forgotten. The woman, for it could only be a woman from her voice and the way her armor hugged her body, was an intimidating sight.

Gold-white armor covered her from head to toe, so he was unable to see her face. Her chest piece was primarily gold with what appeared to be a white tree stretching toward her neck. The boots covering her lower legs were of the same design, while the plates covering her forearms had the same design and a head of a snarling wolf on her pauldrons. He had only seen the design on her cloak for a second, but it had appeared to be the same wolf that was present on her pauldrons, white surrounded with gold reflective markings that stretched down the back of the cloth. Her face was covered with the most unusual helm he had ever seen. Her eyes were covered by some form of white plate that was covered in gold vine engravings, while the rest of the helm was some form of gold material that vaguely resembled a face.

Over her shoulder peaked the handle of what appeared to be a two-handed longsword, the hilt of several daggers peaking out from behind her back, at the sides of her waist and from the tops of her armored boots. The object that had been in her hand was the most unusual he'd ever seen. Black and white and shaped like an L, for some reason he had no doubt it was a dangerous tool. That she had put it in the scabbard on her right thigh had been a slight comfort and her voice was soothing to his ears. Sam and Pippin had looked to him while Merry tried his best to look intimidating. (Not that it was working) He nodded to them and pushed passed them to address her when the most unusual thing happened. The woman stiffened and took a step back from him, before stiffening again and her head snapping to the east just before a chillingly familiar shriek filled the air. He followed her gaze to spot a sight that made his blood run cold, the pulsing of the Ring growing faster. The Nine had arrived. He was shaken from his fear as the woman stepped forth and spun him around, pushing him toward his fellow Hobbits.

"Don't just stand there, MOVE!" she cried as she pushed the four of them along.

Hunter Saera Mor

The Guardian cursed her eternal bad luck. Just as the black-haired, hairy feet person had pushed his way forth, she had nearly vomited in her helmet when the first wave of Darkness hit her. He was carrying something very, very Dark. She nearly puked a second time when a second, more intense wave of Darkness hit her from the east. She had turned to see several cloaked figures rushing towards them, the Darkness growing as they approached. She hadn't hesitated, pushing down her revulsion and getting the little ones to move toward the stairs, heading up into the top of the ruined tower, hoping it would give her enough time to set up a few traps.

She had pushed them toward a statue with no opening behind it, told them to stay put and quickly tossed several trip-line grenades toward the openings in the sides of the tower. No sooner than she had, did the Darkness sharpen, and the familiar sensation of entering a Darkness zone wash over her. She backed up, drawing her hand cannon as she did and aimed at one of the openings in the walls she hadn't placed a trap at. She looked over her shoulder at the terrified small people. Grinning under her helmet, she spoke. "Don't worry, kids. I'll be your Hero for the day!"

Within moments, the servants of the Darkness materialized out of shadow, stepping through the openings before… BOOM! Four simultaneous grenades went off at once, flinging the cloaked warriors back out the windows. She grinned under her helmet. Four down, five to go, she thought with a grim smile. The amount of Darkness pouring off them put each one at almost Crota's level. She could beat them, sure…if they attacked one at a time and gave her a few hours and an extra thousand rounds of ammo. It had taken her, John-117 and Korra fighting in tandem to take down Crota. Granted she hadn't been nearly as powerful as she was now, but still, the odds weren't in her favor.

She looked over her shoulder at the hairy feet kids and her eyes narrowed. In her favor or not, she wouldn't let these bastards touch them. Her face twisted into a snarl under her helmet.

"You want them, you bastards?" she snarled at them, leveling the Ace to line up with Cloak 1's head. "COME ON, THEN!"

Cloak 1 charged, swinging his jagged sword high. Even as she lined up the shot as she had a million times, she shook her head at the weapon. While though it was a weapon of Darkness, it was a shoddy piece of work. Even the Hive blades, while grotesque, were masterpieces. She fired once, twice, three times. The first round impacted with Cloak 1's head, knocking him off his feet, while the other two collided with his throat and chest. She didn't wait. Her cannon spun in her hand as she switched targets and fired again, then again. She knew it wouldn't put them down, not permanently. For that she'd need to get close and use Young Wolf's Howl on them.

She emptied her cannon and holstered it, reaching up and pulling the two-handed longsword from her back, twirling it behind her back to ignite the Solar energy held within the blade. The five remaining Cloaks stopped and stared at her burning blade as she charged, flames and embers trailing behind her as she did. The six combatants collided and began the Age-old dance of combat. Saera danced back and forth between the five combatants, her agility giving her a distinct advantage over the heavy attacks of the Cloaks. She quickly fell into her patented Battle-Trance, where she focused only on the fight. So focused was Saera, that she never noticed one of the five break away from the fight until she heard a cry of pain.

She snapped out of her trance to see the Cloak 1 pulling a jagged dagger out of Black-Hair's shoulder. She snapped, channeling her Golden Gun energy into her sword even as a man with long black hair and a month's stubble covering his lower face entered the fray, torch and longsword in hand. They moved in sync, burning blade and torch slashing through the air as they forced the Cloaks back, both setting one each on fire before knocking two more off the edge of the ruin. They both turned to see the one who stabbed Black-Hair moving toward them. The man reared back and threw his torch, impaling it in Cloak 1's face even as Saera reloaded Ace and emptied the hand cannon into the bastard, each round pushing him back until he too flew off the edge with a shriek.

She holstered the black and white hand cannon before rushing to Black-Hair's side, sliding to a stop next to him as she carefully pulled his blood-soaked shirt back from the wound. Without a word from her, Sol materialized next to her and quickly began scanning the wound even as the other three small ones gasped in shock, obviously having forgotten the Ghost.

Aragorn, Son of Arathorn

Aragorn had seen many a wonder in his eighty-seven years in Middle Earth, but the warrior woman before him was something he'd never seen before. She wielded the blade on her back with skill that surpassed his own, the burning blade scorching the air as she had dueled five of the Nazgûl at once. The markings on her armor were reminiscent of the symbol of Gondor, though he had never seen the materials the metal plates were forged of. Her white-gold cloak was a beautiful thing, the snarling wolf on the back an impressive sight. Of course, those were all trumped by the little floating object that shimmered into existence by her head as she examined Frodo Baggins's wound. It looked a bit like a star, the gold spikes shifting back and forth as the blue light in the center unleashed soft blue light that shimmered around the wound.

"Sol, how bad is it?" the woman asked the floating object, concern lacing her tone. He frowned. She couldn't have known the Hobbits more than a few minutes before the Ring Wraiths had arrived, but she seemed genuinely concerned for the Hobbit.

The light faded from Mr. Baggins's wound and the spikey ball turned to her. Aragorn was quite surprised when a voice emanated from the thing.

"I've never seen anything like this, Guardian," it said, looking between the woman and the ailing Hobbit. "It's some kind of Dark poison that's spreading too quickly for me to analyze it. I-I don't know what to do." It sounded both horrified and confused as it-he- said that. The woman spoke in a flowing language he didn't recognize, but knew her tone well enough to understand that she was cursing.

Aragorn stepped forward. "He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade. The poison will slowly turn him into one of Them," he said, nodding to the shadows beyond the edges of Weathertop. His words seemed to horrify the woman as she gasped and cursed again, this time in the Common Tongue.

"Damn it!" she hissed, fist clenching on the ground. Her head snapped up and looked to Aragorn. "You knew what that blade was. Do you know how to stop the poison?" her tone was desperate, almost begging him to say yes. Luckily, he did.

"We need to reach Rivendell, home of Lord Elrond. He'll be able to heal Frodo," Aragorn said. She nodded and reached out, a second cloak, this one silver and blue with a pair of daggers emblazoned on it, appeared in her hands. She swiftly wrapped the wounded Hobbit in the silky cloth before gently lifting him off the ground with surprising strength.

"Lead the way, then." She said, conviction in her voice. "Let's get Frodo the help he needs."

Hunter Saera Mor

The Awoken woman was cursing herself. Thoroughly. She'd done the one thing Cayde had warned her about time and time again and had gotten so invested in the fight, she'd lost track of her original goal. Before, the Exo had joked she must've been half-Titan the way she would lash out or simply charge in at times. Now, she was suffering the consequences for that failing. And now the Hobbit, as the other three had called themselves, was dying. I need to be better. I can't keep getting reckless just because I'm angry or get caught up in the fight, she scolded herself internally as the small group rushed through the underbrush, Frodo clutched in her arms, wrapped up in her Blade Dancer cloak.

The other three Hobbits had introduced themselves as Samwise Gamgee, Frodo's gardener, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Frodo's cousin, and Peregrin Took, the youngest of the four Hobbits. The man with the longsword had simply introduced himself as Strider. Saera respected that, since many a Hunter had gone by a callsign rather than their own names. She, on the other hand, had given her name, earning a comment of how beautiful her name was from Pippin, as Peregrin Took preferred to be called. She had given a hearty laugh, glad for the small distraction from the stressful situation at hand. The young Hobbit had grinned, only for the small joy to be snatched away as Frodo cried out in pain.

For once, Saera cursed the fact that Guardians almost never carried medical supplies unless they were escorting civilians to the City. Since she couldn't patch him up, she did the same thing she'd done to Mara and pushed her Light into the wounded Hobbit, focusing on pushing the Darkness back and sealing the wound. It didn't work as well as she liked since she was moving. Korra would've been better at this, having gotten special training in using Sunsinger to heal herself and the wounded when she had been helping the Hunter heal Mara during the war against Oryx.

They ran for what must've been hours, the Hunter growing increasingly worried about the Hobbit in her arms, even as she grew weaker from pushing more and more of her Light into his body. Thankfully, Strider called for them to stop next to three statues of ugly beasts that reminded her vaguely of Hive Ogres. She set Frodo down gently before collapsing next to biggest statue. Sam was investigating the stone carvings as Merry and Pippin stood guard next to Frodo. Sol shimmered into existence to scan Frodo for several seconds before turning to her and scanning her as well.

"You expended too much of your Light," the Ghost said in an exasperated tone as he flitted around her head, scanning her all over. "You need to rest."

Saera shook her head as she stood. "Sorry Sol, but my Hunter senses are tingling," she quipped, as she looked around. She had become bit of a master at finding hidden loot over her career as a Hunter, and her brain was pinging with what she had fondly nicknamed her Loot Sense. She followed it to a cave a few meters from the three statues. As she entered, Sol lit up the dark cave, allowing her to look around a bit. She smirked as she found a chest buried under a thin layer of dirt, filled to the brim with gold and jewels. She also spotted several elegant daggers among the detritus spread across the floor along with a thin silver blade, elegant runes marking the edge. Sol transmatted the score into her digital inventory as she silently cheered at the win. The quick loot-fest was two-fold. First off, she needed to regain her Light and clear her head. Second…she just wanted some souvenirs for when she got home. The blade she'd found would make a nice present to Mara as a Sorry-I-left-the-way-I-did-Please-forgive-me gift to the Awoken monarch.

She exited the cave to hear Sam talking to Frodo in a hushed voice, obviously trying to distract his friend from the pain.

"Look Mr. Frodo, it's Bilbo's trolls!" the Hobbit exclaimed quietly, causing the ailing Hobbit's head to turn in his direction.

"So…so it is, Sam," he rasped before hissing as another wave of pain hit him.

"Trolls? That's what these things are?" Saera questioned. "I thought they were slightly less ugly Ogres."

The Hobbits couldn't help themselves and chuckled a small bit. Strider returned and spoke quickly.

"Do any of you know the Athelas plant?" he questioned.

The Hobbits and the Hunter all frowned in confusion. "Athelas?" they said as one.

"Kingsfoil," he corrected himself. Saera frowned. Kingsfoil was a weed that had few medicinal properties.

Sam nodded quickly. "Aye, sir but it's a weed."

"It may help to slow the poison," Strider said as he raised his torch and headed into the dark forest surrounding them. The Hunter followed, her Awoken heritage and Hunter enhancements aiding her eyes in the dark wood. It wasn't long before she found the weed in abundance, the tiny white flowers spreading everywhere. She looked about her and saw Strider not too far away as he too searched for the weed. She knelt, drawing one of her many hunting knives and cut a bushel of the plant away when her ear picked up a set of light footsteps. She looked up to spot what appeared to be a figure shadowing Strider. Her eyes narrowed and she followed, drawing the Ace and carefully pulling the hammer back. The figure stopped behind the tall warrior as he crouched down to nab some Kingsfoil himself when the woman placed her blade at his throat and spoke, a feminine, vaguely smug voice whispering in the night.

"What's this? A Ranger, caught off his guard?" the woman asked, the smug tone pissing the Hunter off enough for her to raise her hand cannon and place it just behind the woman's pointed ear.

"Drop it, sweetheart," she hissed, poking the woman's head with the gun in her hand. "I'd hate to mess up that pretty dress of yours."

Arwen Undomiel

Arwen stiffened as the cold metal pressed behind her ear and the female voice hissed at her.

"Drop it, sweetheart," the woman said even as Arwen curse for not noticing another in the forest. "I'd hate to mess up that pretty dress of yours."

The woman's voice was odd though, an elegant accent that even hostile was filled with Light. She didn't dare challenge the woman and dropped Hadhafang onto the forest floor even as Aragorn leapt to his feet. He reached behind her and she felt the metal be removed from her head.

"Wait!" he cried, as he pushed the stranger's arm down. "She is an ally."

Arwen turned to see an oddly armored woman glaring at her from behind a white eye plate with gold vines engraved in the metal.

The woman scoffed. "Funny way for an ally to greet someone," the woman sneered even as she put the odd object in her hand into the scabbard on her right thigh.

"In the future, sweetheart, don't sneak up on someone who has a habit of shooting the things that jump out of the dark." The woman quipped, a jovial tone now dancing in her voice. The woman's helmed and hooded head looked up and down the elf woman, Arwen feeling a bit uncomfortable as she did. She was surprised when the woman seemed to purr.

"Hello, nurse! If I wasn't already spoken for…" the armored woman let the comment hang and Arwen felt the blood rush to her face at the insinuation, causing the woman to throw her head back and laugh. "Wow! That worked way too good!" the woman howled before a small golden star shimmered into existence and bumped her head with a click.

Arwen was shocked when the star spoke. "That's enough of that, Guardian," it said in a distinctly male voice, sounding rather peeved at the armored woman. Guardian? Arwen wondered at the phrase. "Or do I have to tell Mara about this?"

The effect was immediate as the woman stiffened and turned to the star. "H-hey now, Sol. Let's not get drastic now…" the woman almost begged, holding her hands up in surrender. The star, Sol, bobbed in what seemed like a triumphant nod.

"Atta girl."

Arwen turned to Aragon, who was smirking in amusement at the pair. "You seem to attract the oddest crowd, Beloved." She said with a smirk.

The half-elf shrugged and looked to the armored woman, who held up a bushel of Athelas. "Found the weed, Strider…and your girlfriend apparently." The second half was added with a purr that made the elf maiden blush all over again.

The woman chuckled and shook her head, turning and walking back the way Arwen had followed Aragorn from. The elven woman turned to the Ranger and raised an eyebrow in question. The man flicked his eyes to the woman's retreating cloaked form.

"She protected the hobbits from the Nazgûl on her own," he said after a few moments. "All Nine of them. Four, she scattered with some kind of explosive, the other five she engaged in battle with. That weapon of hers blew holes in stone, and the blade on her back caught fire as she fought."

The elf's eyes widened and she looked back through the forest, where her elven eyes spotted the woman kneeling down next to the Ring-Bearer as she whispered comforting words in his ear. She had faced the Nine and lived to tell of it…how? Arwen was beyond surprised. Even the strongest of the Elves hesitated in engaging even one of the Nazgûl. This woman had stood against five at once. She shook her head, retrieved Hadhafang from the forest floor and moved toward the camp, reaching into her elven magics as she stepped forward, the Light in her soul causing the wounded Hobbit to turn his head to her weakly. She knelt before him and spoke in a hushed tone, fearing that any louder would injure him more.

"Frodo…. Im Arwen. Telin le thaed" 'I am Arwen. I have come to help you.' In the common tongue. "Lasto beth nîn. Tolo dan na ngalad" 'Hear my voice. Come back to the light.'

The Hobbit seemed to focus for a moment before it faded, the pain returning two-fold. She scooted closer, nearly reeling back as she felt the Light pulsing through his body. How is this…wait. Her head raised toward the cloaked woman next to her, sensing the Light within the woman burning brighter than the sun. She must've done something to help Frodo, else he would be much farther gone. The Hobbit gasped as Aragorn placed the chewed up Athelas in his wound, the juices of the plant already fighting the poison in his blood. The Hobbit's eyes flashed open, blood shot and the sky blue turning to ice.

"He's fading," she cried. She heard the woman curse in a strange tongue behind her, but she ignored the woman for a moment as she turned to Aragorn. "He's not going to last. We must get him to my father. I've been looking for you for two days."

Aragorn gave her a look and picked Frodo up, taking him to Asfaloth even as one of his companions demanded where she was taking him. As Aragorn tied Frodo's legs to the saddle, she approached. "There are five wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know."

The armored woman spoke up. "Oh, that was me. Blew four of the bastards sky high when they came for the Hobbits. They're not dead, unfortunately, but it'll take some time before they're strong enough to do more than look threatening." There was amusement and satisfaction in the woman's voice, something that Arwen could understand being proud about. She nodded to the woman. "That will make my ride easier."

The woman stiffened even as Aragorn stepped forth. "Dartho guin perian. Rych le ad tolthathon." 'Stay with the Hobbits. I'll send horses back for you.'

Arwen scowled. "Hon mabathon. Rochon ellint im." 'I'm the faster rider. I'll take him'

Aragorn pressed on. "Andelu i ven." 'The road is too dangerous.'

Her heart soared at his concern, but she refused to relent. "Frodo fîr. Ae athradon i hir, tur gwaith nin beriatha hon." 'Frodo's dying. If I can get across the river, the power of my people will protect him.'

In the common tongue, she continued. "I do not fear them."

The cloaked woman interrupted before anymore could be said. "Hold on just a minute. You're not thinking of going out there, are you?" there was confusion and fear in her voice. At Arwen's nod, the woman shook her head vigorously. "Hell no. You think those cloaked freaks are sitting around with their thumbs planted firmly up their asses?" she snarled, golden light flashing over her body. "Those bastards are just waiting for one of us to go ahead with Frodo so they can take whatever Dark Artifact the kid's carrying."

Arwen was shocked. She knew he held the Ring of Power. She didn't get a chance to speak as the woman continued. "The instant you ride out, they'll chase you down. With Frodo, your horse won't be moving nearly as fast as he could be, and just one of those bastards is about as strong as Crota. You don't stand a chance if five of them catch you."

Crota? From the woman's tone that name held a great deal of power and fear. "You fought five Nazgûl at once. Obviously, this Crota you speak of isn't that powerful."

The woman let out a harsh laugh. "Bullshit. I won because he was big, slow and arrogant and I had my fireteam backing me up. Not to mention I'm way stronger than I was back then. You don't get to be a Lord of the Iron Banner by being a weak-ass bitch," the woman snarled. She shook her helmeted head. "Fine, you wanna get yourself killed, go right ahead. But don't blame me when those cloaked bastards take your head off." With a swirl of her white-gold cloak, she stomped off, cursing profusely in her flowing language.

Arwen stared after the cursing woman wreathed in gold-white armor for several moments, pondering her words before swinging up onto Asfaloth. She leaned down and spoke in the horse's ear.

"Noro lim, Asfaloth, noro lim!" 'Ride fast, Asfaloth, ride fast!'

She left the group behind, one of the Hobbits calling after her as she broke through the brush and into the night.

Hunter Saera Mor

The Guardian was pissed. Ms. Pointy-Ear running off into the night with five Crota-level warriors after her instead of staying with the group as they moved together. Between the Kingsfoil they'd gathered and her sharing her Light with the Hobbit, they could've made it to Rivendell without splitting up. Instead, now she trekked through the woods several paces behind Strider and the three Hobbits with her New Monarchy issue Disposition VII sniper rifle at the ready, the dark red and white of the rifle contrasting greatly with her gold armor and the green surrounding her.

The hobbits had bugged her for over an hour about her rifle when it had appeared in her arms, but she had been in such a bad mood from the pointy eared woman's departure that she had simply grunted in a very Titan-like manner and fallen to the back of the group, keeping them in her sights at all times. They had been walking like that for two days now, and the forest was starting to recede, giving way to a well-traveled road beneath her armor-plated boots.

It was noon on the second day after the woman had left with Frodo, and Saera's temper was steadily rising. Even more so once she noticed that they were being followed. She had quickly moved up, digitizing her rifle for the hand cannon on her thigh. She moved next to Strider with her hand on the Ace's grip.

"We're being watched," she whispered in his ear, eyes flitting left and right under her visor. "A few dozen at the least. I can hear hushed whispers hurried tones. Coming from every angle." To her shock, the man had chuckled and nodded.

"Indeed. We are not in any danger however. For they are friendly eyes."

She scowled under her helmet. "They don't feel very friendly. And trust me, I know the difference." She thought back to her first encounter with the Reef-Born Awoken. They had been passively hostile.

"Understandable," drawled Strider with a small grin.

Her temper flaring, she glared at the man. "And what is that supposed to mean?" she snapped, her hand tightening on the grip of Ace. The man looked to her and motioned with his head.

"You."

The single word had cut right through her frustration and she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "Oh," she said as she looked back over her shoulder. "Sorry. I'm a bit stressed right now."

He nodded in understanding, patting her shoulder-plate lightly.

She looked to the ridges and trees. "Aren't they going to come say hi?" she questioned.

Strider shook his head, dark locks swinging back and forth as he did. "No, they will not. Their task is simply to watch the borders of Rivendell. They would only interfere if orcs or worse appeared."

She frowned "What the hell's an orc?" she asked, not having heard of orcs before. Though it did sound vaguely familiar.

Strider shook his head. "Servants of the Dark Lord Sauron. Twisted and cruel, most cannot stand sunlight. Most are cannibals. All are vicious combatants."

She nodded, mulling over the information in her mind. Sol appeared over her shoulder. "Is there any chance this Rivendell place has some records I could examine? So that we may find our way around a bit easier?" Sol bobbed around to float alongside Strider's head. The man nodded, a small smile gracing his face.

"Indeed, there is. Rivendell is home to Elrond Half-Elven. He possesses quite the library. I'm certain he would allow you to examine his books and scrolls. So long as you treat them with respect." The man warned. Saera shrugged, her cloak rising and falling with her shoulders.

"Don't look at me, Sol will be the one looking through them." She said with a nonchalant tone. "We Hunters aren't much for heavy reading. I'd probably incinerate them on accident."

The man stared at her in shock as Sol shook his shell in the Ghost-equivalent of shaking the head. "She's not joking. Ikora didn't let her anywhere near her library after she accidently started a fire."

The man went to respond when they came to a large river. The water was deep and the current strong. What caught the Hunter's eye was the numerous horse-shoe prints covering the bank. She tapped Strider's leg and motioned to the tracks.

"Looks like our cloaked friends were here in force. I count nine sets of prints." She pointed to each set before looking at the man. "Could Rivendell be under attack? Cause if it is, then I call dibs on those cloaked bastards." She said with a feral grin under her helmet as she unholstered the Ace of Spades. She looked to the water and frowned. "Hey, is the water supposed to be like that in this season?"

"No, the sentries would have warned us if Rivendell was being attacked." Strider looked to the roaring water and frowned even as the Hunter holstered her weapon dejectedly. "No. It has never been this fast, not even in spring when the snow melts on the mountains. Something happened here…no matter, we still need to cross, and the Hobbits would be swept away in the current."

Saera didn't respond and simply grabbed Pippin around the waist, ignoring his protests as she ran and jumped, boosting herself twice to reach the other side of the river. She landed lightly and turned to see Merry, Sam, Strider and even the horse Bill staring at her with slack jaws, a sight that made her laugh heartily. With a shake of her head, she set a scared-stiff Pippin on the ground before jumping across the river for the rest of the group, leading Bill across the river carefully when it came to be his turn. If she had been a Titan or John had been there, carrying the horse would've been a simple thing. But being a Hunter, she'd settle for leading the horse.

Soon they were all across the river, the Hobbits and human stunned at the fact their companion had jumped on air to get them across the water. They walked for several minutes before Saera held up a hand as she unholstered Ace, holding the hand cannon up as she spoke out of the corner of her mouth.

"We're not alone. Single bogey straight ahead," she said as she raised her weapon to chest height. A musical laugh echoed through the air and a man stepped out from behind the tree in front of them. Long blonde hair flowed down the sides of his head, framing the elegant asymmetrical face that Strider had told her to expect from all elves. Intricate silver armor over bright white robes covered the man's body, a long, thin two-handed sword held in hand as he looked at the ragtag group with a warm smile on his face. She grinned under her helmet. Now that blade was a masterpiece.

"Welcome home, baby brother," the man said in the same musical voice that tried to slip into her head and make her lower her guard. "Keeping strange company once again I see."

The man looked over them, silver-blue eyes trying to pierce her visor to see her eyes.

"Greeting friends, and welcome. I am Glorfindel of Rivendell," he said, looking to each of them in turn.

Strider didn't speak, but his face split into a wide grin and he moved forward to embrace the man in a bear hug. The elf looked neither surprised nor uncomfortable, simply returning the hug with the same expression on his face. The men parted and Glorfindel looked to the Hobbits.

Greetings, master Hobbits," he said, giving them a deep bow that made Pippin puff up in such a way Saera nearly laughed. "I hope your stay in our home is a pleasant one, worthy of remembrance."

Sam was enamored with the elven man. "It already is…" he whispered.

Glorfindel smiled at the gardener. "You do me honor, master…?"

Sam stiffened and cleared his throat. "Sam-Samwise Gamgee, sir"

The man bowed his head respectfully and turned to the other Hobbits, both of which jumped forward in a way that did have a laugh escape the Hunter's lips. "I'm Meriadoc Brandybuck and this is my close friend, Peregrin Took."

Pippin spoke up, his voice rushing in excitement. "Everyone just calls us Merry and Pippin, thank you very much!"

Glorfindel chuckled and nodded in response, before turning to the Hunter. "And you, madam?' he asked, eyes searching.

She sighed. "You need me to take off my helmet, don't you?"

At his nod in affirmation, she cursed in the Awoken tongue before letting out a harsh breath. "Whelp, guess I can't avoid it forever."

She lowered her white-gold hood and reached up to her helmet, taking a deep breath before hitting the release. The hiss of air sounded as she raised the helm off her head, revealing her shimmering blue skin, silver-white hair and glowing electric blue eyes. She heard the Hobbits gasp in surprise beside her as the man and elf stared at her. She gave a cocky grin as Sol materialized next to her. She turned to her Ghost. "You owe me three hundred Glimmer, Sol."

The Ghost cursed profusely in Awoken as she turned to the elf in silver armor. "The name's Saera Mor, Hunter-class Guardian, Head of New Monarchy and Lord of the Iron Banner."

She gave a deep bow to the man, before standing up straight, glowing eyes twinkling in mirth.

"Now, what does a girl have to do to get a bath and some decent food?"

AN: How many of you can guess which cloak Saera is wearing? Those who get, get virtual cookies!