A crazy ride

Grey light greeted them at dawn, something akin to a woollen blanket veiling the sun. Frances emerged from slumber, her body aching all over. Her dreams had been dark; she'd woken too often due to the restless sea of dead swarming around them. Now that dawn was upon them, she could see the stone of erech. Rounded and half-buried in the ground. It was said to be a remnant of Numenor, brought here by Isildur himself. It made sense, after all, to strike a bargain with the dead in this forsaken place.

Aragorn, once more, led his company at a harsh pace. And the Dead followed, dread falling upon all the second born as they were surrounded by the emptiness of the ghosts. Sometimes, Frances could feel their coldness coming closer, grazing at her legs or passing about her back. Each time, she struggled not to scream. It was a strange sensation indeed to be surrounded by death. The Grey Company tore through valleys and fields, advancing like the Russian army on Berlin in '45. Nothing would stop them; Aragorn had set his views on Pelargir, and knew the way to it. They would not camp tonight; time simple did not allow it.

Frances' legs ached from the strain. Fortunately, Elladan was leading the horse, giving her the leisure to rest. Still, the day was slow to pass, and she gritted her teeth. Her thigh throbbed; the healing would be delayed because the muscle moved too much. And she couldn't put a splint upon a horse. Eventually, the young lady starting humming a tune from her world. As the melodies invaded her mind, it chased a little bit of the fear away. Straightening behind Elladan, she called to the elf.

"Hey, would you mind if I sing? It won't be as pretty as an elf's voice but…"

A chuckle answered before she could bury herself in shame.

"You always have the funniest ideas, little lady. But why not? You certainly must have some songs that I have never heard before!"

Someone in the ranger's ranks scoffed at this.

"A song unknown to the famous twins of Elrond. Then we shall see about that!"

Frances' eyes narrowed. Stuck behind the elf, she couldn't see the ranger's face. But she knew that voice. Halbarad, once more, was shooting at her with his sarcasm.

"This animosity is unnecessary," came Legolas' unforgiving tone.

It was the first time the elf Prince had graced the company with his voice. The effect was quite immediate, Halbarad's mouth falling shut at the rebuke. Gimli grinned, happy, for once, to have the grumpy ranger put in his place. The dwarf was so terrified by the dead that he added for good measure:

"Yes. And I, for sure, would be more than happy to hear something other than the frantic beating of hooves on this damned path!"

Frances smiled despite herself.

"Well. Singing atop a horse will not be so melodious. But I think I can still find something to entertain you."

And then, she fished her mp3 player inside her bag. Her need for a distraction was such that is overruled the one for secrecy. Still, she installed the device on the side where no one could see her. Behind at the rear of the company, and surrounded by people who knew of her origins, she didn't mind showing off the little piece of technology if it ever came in plain sight. Then she rummaged into her playlist, and eventually found something. Jean-Jacques Goldman. Master of french music ! For decades, the man had been entertaining her country with his sense of rhythm and melodies. There was nothing like his songs to cheer somebody up. It was such a pity that her companions would not hear the music!

Frances chose the first track that she remembered well, "Et l'on y peut rien", and launched the party. Very soon, she was singing. And the more she sang, the more powerful her voice became. Despite the bumps on the road, her voice never faltered, trying to convey to her fellow companions how much joy and hope the songs she had chosen could hold. The young lady was quite lost in the music, not noticing that the tension had eased up considerably around her. Elladan listened intently, her voice resonating through his chest, appreciating a type of music, and a language he had never heard. She was right, nor her talent, nor the song was as melodious as what the elves could produce. But it was lively enough. And from the look of delight on the dwarf's face, it touched more souls than he thought.

Very soon, the song was finished. But Gimli would have none of it.

"Go on, Lady Frances. I feel better already. Maybe you have another one of those lively songs to share?"

Frances's eyes sparkled.

"You have no idea. I could go on all day."

Elrohir, coming from behind, stretched out to whisper in her ear.

"Then do not leave us waiting."

Frances started and yelped, earning a short burst of laughter from the elf. And as ridiculous as it seemed, singing to a bunch of elves, dwarves, and hardened rangers, she went on. After Jean-Jacques Goldman came Mylène Farmer, and Dire Straits for a while, although some of their songs were absolutely out of her range. But "heavy fuel" amused her much. Then she went to a different directory. Her mp3 had a few exotic items. At the beginning of her list came Nickelback, "How you remind me", and she started beating the rhythm on her leg as she sang. Then came "Master of the wind" from Man-o-war, a little "Iron maiden" in the mess, and some Spanish and Italian songs that her mother used to listen to when she was small.

All those songs were foreign to them. Better this way, for some of the lyrics would have been a mess to explain. Somehow, when she travelled, the blue rock tampered with her mind. This was how she was able to speak the common tongue now. But once back, she would not understand a word of it. The little Sindarin she knew would remain, because she had made a conscious effort to learn it, and not used an advance piece of technology to download the language in her brain. The magic of the stone never ceased to amaze her !

The company paused slightly to share a quick meal, and Frances was, to her surprise, greeted by a young ranger as she dismounted. He did not, however, offer his arm as she hobbled to the circle of sitting men.

"Thank you for the entertainment, Lady Frances. Although I could not recognise any of the languages, it has cheered me up. How came you to know so many different songs?"

"There are many artists where I come from. Some of them are geniuses when it comes to writing new songs. I have heard them so many times that I seem to have learnt the lyrics."

The lad seemed in awe, and suddenly, Frances wondered how old he really was. If he came from the same ascendancy as Aragorn, he might very well be over thirty and not show a wrinkle.

"Have you much peace in the place you hail from?"

The young lady felt bad for the lad. He had probably known war even as a toddler. What a pity for middle earth, so be such a beautiful place and to have it overcome by shadows. On earth, they were the ones tainting it with their short-sightedness and stupid ego.

"Er… We have skirmishes here and there. But my land has known peace for a while."

"And where would that be? For I did not recognise any of the languages you sang."

Halbarad, as unpleasant as ever, had taken a spot on the other side of the circle. Stealing a glance as the lad beside her, Frances saw that his gaze was firmly set on the ground. No help would come that way.

"A place in a land far, far, away?"

The snarky retort was not lost on her companions, but none of them knew of the reference to Star Wars. Too bad they couldn't get.

"I have roamed this land for decades, Lady Frances. I have yet to come upon a community of men that have known years of peace."

Frances' eyes searched from someone familiar. A few paces away, a very concerned elf listened to the conversation. His blue gaze met hers, but he could only shrug, helpless. Then, the elf turned to Aragorn and the twins. They were engrossed in a discussion, pointing to the south were only a grey landscape could be seen. Frances sighed, entering in the mind competition with unease.

"Yes. I know middle earth has suffered from the return of the shadow. But my people have been shielded for a while, hence hiding us from the world that you know and protect."

His reply was sharp, and to the point.

"Flattery will lead you nowhere."

Frances winced; she had to admit that for a man roaming the wild, he was subtle and educated. Maybe she should have worked on her cover story before setting out from Rivendell. Usually, stating that she lived between the Shire and the Grey Havens would do the trick. Not that many had asked apart from Boromir at the very beginning of their journey. But she knew that Halbarad had kept the Shire safe for ages. He would not buy such a lie.

"What I believe, my lady, is that you are hiding something. Maybe your people are in possession of a weapon to repel the dark lord and its creatures, or maybe that you have witches and powers beyond that of simple mortals. And I am ready to go to great lengths to ensure the safety of my people."

Halbarad's eyes were boring holes into hers, so deep, with so much rage that she started. And then she understood. He believed her to be a witch! To this, she couldn't help but scoff. The argument could have gone on, save Aragorn who had returned from retrieving rations from his saddlebag with Legolas by his side.

"The lady Frances is no witch," came the Prince's stern reply.

Started that he would defend her; he had after all, avoided her for days now, Frances lifted her eyes to his. She didn't expect the blinding anger in his gaze. Despite the distance between them, she was relieved that he would speak in her name. It meant that whatever she had done to push him away had not damaged his respect for her. Not too much. How she longed to reach for his arm, just to tell him that it was not worth fighting.

"I can vouch for her, if that is your wish," came Aragorn's soothing voice. "You must understand that through our travels we have met many hardships. Frances has been a great support, and is worthy of your trust. As for her dwellings, they are hidden from our world, and cannot be attainable. It would be a fool errand to dwell on this, for they have nothing we can use in our struggle against the dark lord."

At this Aragorn gave Frances a pointed look, one that said, 'go along please and leave your usual honesty in the locker room'. Of course, her world had so much knowledge that could benefit middle earth. Technology, medicine, clothing, and so forth. But even if they could link the two of them, they both knew that bad things could happen. The corruption of men, and their greed, could very well overwhelm middle earth. A connection was far from desirable.

"But…"

A quick slap was heard, and Halbarad glared at Elrohir, massaging his scalp. Aragorn gave his foster-brother a stern look before turning to the ranger.

"Trust me, my friend, as you have always done."

And then, he stared at the rest of the company.

"Now eat. And if you wish for the lady to sing some more, be nice to her."

Frances smiled at that. This was an expression of hers. Little by little, she realised that she had rubbed on her companions. Aragorn was less stuffy and serious than he used to be, Gimli his cheery old self, if a bit more self-conscious, and Legolas … no, better not to think about Legolas.