A Second Chance

A Second Chance Part 2

"Who are you?" the voice is rough with what sounds like a lack of sleep and yet there is an undeniable authority to it that makes me shake slightly with fear.

"My name is Finley," I stutter gulping as the tip of the sword digs into my flesh.

"Why are you dressed so strangely?" he growls now and I glance at my clothes realising that I must look strange in jeans and a hoodie, torn and ripped and covered in blood as they are. Although thinking about it the blood may be the only thing he doesn't find suspicious. I glance up at the face behind the sword at this point and freeze in shock.

"Aragorn..." I whisper in wonder, regretting that instantly as he grabs me and pulls me up roughly pushing me back against the tree and pressing the sword even more firmly into my neck ripping a cry of pain from my throat followed shortly by a whimper of pain.

"Who are you?" he growls again and this time there is no denying the power and threat in that question.

"I told you I am Finley," I reply more steadily. I am terrified of course but when you have spent your life being threatened and knocked about you get quite good at putting a mask of indifference on despite the fear and pain you feel. That's quite an important part of it really because if you let them know you are hurting they hurt you more, that's what I've learnt over the years anyway.

"How do you know my name?"

"I... I... you wouldn't believe me if I told you," I finish helplessly,

"Try me," the sword hasn't lessened in pressure against my neck and the adrenaline that is pulsing through me is making me feel nauseous

"I'm not from here, where I am from you, this, Middle Earth and the fellowship everything, it's a story, a story I know really well," I say breathing more heavily as I realise that my life literally depended on him believing me.

"How did you get here?"

"I... I don't know, I was walking to work and I got hit by a car, when I woke up I was here," I stutter and he looks confused, furrowing his brow as he tries to understand what I have said.

"What is a car?" he asks eventually and I almost laugh, I may have done if I wasn't so sure I was about to die.

"A sort of vehicle, a cart but one that is not pulled by horses instead it is powered by... by something that does not exist here and it is capable of going at great speeds," I mutter cringing at how ridiculous this must sound to him.

"This is how you became injured?" he questions now and I nod.

"Please... I don't mean you any harm... I... I think I may be able to help you," I say thinking that maybe this is the chance I need, he'll say that he is grateful for my help, they'll all try to protect me and forever be in my debt. I am not prepared for him to begin laughing, so much so that he drops his sword from my neck and places his hands on his knees in mirth.

"I am sorry," he says eventually, standing up and wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, "I did not expect one so young to have such a sense of humour,"

"I wasn't joking," I say immediately feeling hurt and angry at the same time.

"Then you must be mad," he says holstering his sword and moving to pick up the things he had dropped when he had jumped me. "A woman would be naught but a burden to me, now I must be on my way I am late for a... meeting, I suggest you get your wounds seen to before they fester," he moves to walk away and I limp after him quickly.

"Please, Ara... Strider," I correct myself as I begin to say his name and he shoots me a murderous glare, "if you are going to Bree then it is to meet Gandalf, take me to him and maybe he can explain this all to both of us," I plead and he is an inch away from me again in seconds.

"How do you know Gandalf?" his voice is menacing and despite the fear that pulses through me instantly it quickly gives way to frustration.

"Not this again, I just told you... look please, I won't be a burden you need not protect me in any way," I say and he observes me for a long time.

"You and I will both be chased from any settlements if you are seen dressed so," he mutters and I let a tiny smile grace my lips as my heart lightens, knowing that he is at least considering it. "Here wear my cape until we can get you some more appropriate clothing," he growls at last and I beam at him as I take the heavy cloak and try not to wince too much as I pull it around my shoulders.

Our journey into Bree is a silent one and a painful one, I am determined not to slow him down and he is determined to show me that I am a burden and so I am forced to follow him at a speed that causes tears of pain to roll steadily down my heated cheeks. This is definitely not how I imagined Aragorn, the stories had always painted him in such a way that they made him kind and caring and gentle. This man was none of those things, he was rough and although he is not altogether unfeeling, in fact I think maybe he is just as brave and selfless as the stories say, it either is a trait so well hidden it is nearly impossible to spot or one that is yet to be brought out in him.

"Here," he says shortly as we find ourselves in a small room in the prancing pony pub, I sit as he has directed and sip on the drink he has given me. I am so wrapped up in trying to get used to the idea that I was actually sitting in a place I had thought imaginary for so long that I barely bat an eye lid as he lays out a series of bandages and salves and proceeds to make me strip off most of my clothes. Okay so another thing to add to my list of what the fan fiction stories lied about, the men here, Aragorn definitely included are in no way prudish about sex or female bodies. He doesn't even bat an eyelid, except to comment on the strangeness of my underwear.

"I am starting to believe that you were telling the truth before," he says after a while and I nod tiredly.

"I was," I say by way of answer and he frowns more deeply.

"These wounds, they are older, you are a warrior in your world?" he asks in utter confusion and I wheeze a laugh at that.

"Not exactly, but I learned long ago to fight and defend myself," I whisper, not a complete lie, I mean sure he would think I meant with a sword or bow and arrow rather than my fists and occasionally a knife or handy weapon that is lying around but I did know how to look after myself, I'd not exactly had much choice over the years.

"Sleep a while, I have business to attend to," he says getting up and pulling one of his shirts over my head so that it falls to my knees and then he is gone, no gentle kiss to the forehead, no carrying me to the bed, nope he was treating me as if I was just another soldier which I guess at least means that I was sticking around for a while I mean he had left all of his equipment and most of his weapons here too. Without giving anything much more thought I sink onto the bed which was suddenly the most comfortable thing in the world and drift into a troubled sleep of exhaustion and pain.