The Mysterious Fate #wattys2016

A Close Encounter

Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

Lana thought that Aragorn was acting a little strange the following morning. They went for their brisk run, practiced treading quietly through the forest and then had the usual sword lesson. Yet he was quieter than usual. It was like he was…preoccupied.

She didn't bother to question him about it. Aragorn, she had come to learn, was not one to offer up his thoughts readily. And while she thought of him as a brother, he was more unlike her own brother than alike. She didn't feel it was appropriate to pester him even though she was curious. She had to marvel at the man's ability to still fight her masterfully even though his mind was elsewhere. She did try extra hard to best him, but was still unable to.

So much for an advantage! The man is like a machine!

When the lesson was over she went back to camp for an early lunch. The day was surprisingly warm and she pulled her hair up off her neck and tied a red bandana around it. Frodo and Sam were the only ones at camp. Sam informed her that Legolas was off with the elves and that Boromir, Merry, and Pippin were practicing swordplay. Gimli was with them to offer his assistance.

Drinking deeply of the clean cold water from a pitcher she sat down heavily. In truth, she felt too hot to eat, and she barely picked at the cheese and fruit that were leftover from breakfast.

A strange ringing was in her ears that weren't there before. Shaking her head she felt oddly dizzy. Perhaps she was coming down with something. Lana grimaced. That wouldn't be good. There was no time to get sick. And truth be told, she was afraid of falling ill in this world. If this place was stuck in some middle ages time period she shuddered to think what the medicines would be like!

"Are you well, Lady Lana?" Frodo asked her.

She looked at him blankly. The dark-haired hobbit rarely spoke to her. Usually nothing more than a hello passed between them.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were well. You look a bit pale."

Lana pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. "Actually no. I'm not feeling good at all." She frowned "It's weird. It came out of nowhere. I felt fine this morning."

"Will you be alright?" Sam asked worriedly. "Perhaps you need to eat?"

Lana declined. For once food sounded unappealing. "No; I'll be fine. I'm going to lie down. If Legolas returns to get me for our lesson will you tell him that I don't feel well?"

The hobbits said they would and watched as she retreated to her tent.

Lana didn't know how long she slept. All she knew was that her head was pounding and that her sleep had been anything but restful. Strange dreams had plagued her. Images of her time in Afghanistan blurred with Moria along with images of places she had never seen before.

She dreamed of lands on fire and horrific genocides. Throughout it all there had been a fiery volcano in a dark, dead land. It loomed like a threatening hell in the background of her dreams. There had been a strange voice—or had it been just a sound? It had sounded like a rhythmic chanting but she couldn't be sure—but it chased her through her dreams. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't shake it, and she became panicked. There was a sickening feel of suspended animation as if she was suddenly thrown from a car; then she was falling.

Her eyes flew open. Heart racing like a steam engine, she felt like she couldn't breathe. When she bolted up she saw that she was in Lothlórien. The camp was very quiet; eerily so. Both Sam and Frodo were napping in their tent not too far from her.