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It was a little past noon when Heather awoke, she felt the warmth of the sun and soon the impossible-to-ignore brilliance in her face. She shook her head, moaning slightly as she recalled the events of the past hours - knocked unconscious, transported to the setting of a fantasy epic, made a friend, lost a friend, knocked out again, got stabbed in the leg, killed four people, and escaped through a forbidding forest to...this?

Archet is what Amdir called it. And it was Middle-Earth prior to the destruction of the Ring of Power. But what was the actual date? More significantly for her, when would the moon next be full? She'd have to be cautious about that last question, Celandine and Amdir seemed very open-minded. Others probably wouldn't be.

She made her way downstairs to be greeted, unfortunately, by Mundo. "Good Morning, or rather afternoon isn't it? Were you intending to sleep the entire day, girl?"

"No, but try to understand that I've had as stressful a day as you did. Where are Celandine and Amdir?"

He shrugged impatiently. "They're outside, wanting to see you. Gracious, would you look at this place? This is nothing like home! And they say I must stay here till those Blackwold fellows are dealt with. Outrageous, I tell you! But...but you go talk to that Amdir fellow."

"'Kay...thanks." Lord above, she thought. A land ofHobbits and she should meet that one.

Heather found the two just outside the pub, with Celandine tending Amdir's wounds. Amdir caught sight of her, and Heather saw the young man for the first time in full daylight.

He's gorgeous, she squealed inwardly to herself.

"Ah, Heather. It is good to see you whole and hale. You proved yourself quite the heroine, leading the hobbits and me here to Archet last evening. I must confess that I do not recall much of the journey."

Heather knelt down to see the wound that Amdir had suffered. It looked pretty bad, with a diamond shaped puncture and laceration that oozed semidried blood and fluid. The surrounding flesh had taken on a grayish pallor. Heather rolled up her trouser leg and saw that her own injury, while somewhat painful, looked comparatively healthy. Amdir's shoulder looked like it would shortly develop blood poisoning or something worse.

"Do you have antibiotics here? Any penicillin or the like?" Amdir shook his head, raising his healthy hand. "Nay, do not concern yourself with my injuries; though they appear grave, I have taken worse. My only fear is that the blade may have been poisoned, but young Celandine is seeing to my needs."

"There is a task you could do, Heather, that requires immediate attention. Captain Brackenbrook, the founder of the garrison here in Archet, suffers my presence only because of my injuries. Few in Breeland trust Rangers."

"As I had mentioned to you before, I came to Archet to learn what connection there was between the Blackwolds and the Nazgûl. Here I met Jon Brackenbrook, the son of Captain Brackenbrook. I learned from him the location of the Blackwold camp and of Celandine and Mundo's capture." Amdir sighed heavily, but whether from pain or disappointment, Heather couldn't tell.

"Jon and his father had a falling out recently. Jon believed that Calder Cob, a member of his father's regiment, was in league with the Blackwolds. Before you and I met, I witnessed Cob and Éogan discussing a raid on the town. Jon's suspicions are correct, and his father must be warned. Heather, Captain Brackenbrook would not heed a warning from me, his distrust of Rangers clouds his senses. You, however, he may very well listen to. Please, just let him know what I know. He should be in his office."

"Of course, Amdir; I'll do whatever I can." Heather stood up to leave, snapping her fingers as she did so. "Just one thing though...the date, what is it?" Amdir thought for a few moments. "The date, yes...it's the first of September."

September first, she thought as she hurried up to the garrison. But the moon, would it be full tonight? The thoughts nagged at her as she introduced herself to the Captain.

"Pleased to meet you Miss...?"

"Peters, Heather Peters. Captain Brackenbrook, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Indeed Miss Peters. You're obviously new to this area, did you come in recently?"

Heather nodded. "My voice gives me away, I'm sure. I came in with others just as dawn was...dawning." A cloud of recognition crossed the Captain's face.

"Ah, I understand. You're the one who brought the Ranger in." He snorted in exasperation. "If your intention is to inform me that one of my best men is a traitor, we have nothing more to discuss. Calder Cob has already apprehended three brigands, including their leader within the past week, so enough of this 'traitor' nonsense."

His face softened in response to Heather's downcast expression. "If you would like to assist us though, I suggest getting in touch with Dirk Mudbrick. There have been a number of wolves savaging the farmer's sheep recently, and someone handy with a bow is always welcomed. As for the Ranger, please do tell him to mind his own business!"

Amdir was not in the least bit surprised by this rejection.

"Brackenbrook is a good man, but he is firmly set in his ways. Cob has done his job well, too well. We'll need to find a way to expose his treachery." Amdir looked at Heather thoughtfully. "So Brackenbrook wanted you to do some wolf extermination, did he? I must say, you have proven that you have some skill with that bow. Have you had any training with them before?"

Heather shook her head no. She and her mother were both very handy with .38 revolvers and nine-millimeter pistols, but she'd never tried archery. Heather thought back to the previous hours, the fact that she wasn't dead herself she simply attributed to the grace of Providence. Amdir immediately realized that he'd put this young girl in danger, albeit necessarily.

"Hmmm, well. While the wolves of this part of the Chetwood aren't as fierce as elsewhere, they can still be quite dangerous to the inexperienced hunter." He thought a moment. "Darren Mills is well respected, and he's always willing to help the aspiring archer. If I remember correctly, there is a bit of a market in the alley behind us, you can probably find him there.

As Amdir had indicated, there was a small marketplace in the alley, mostly weapons and armour with a few odds and ends whose purposes she couldn't fathom. Heather found Mills easily enough; he was in the process of refletching several lethal-looking arrows.

"Thought you'd have a go at hunting, eh? If so, you've certainly picked the right time for it. I take it that you're not ignorant of the hassles that the local highwaymen have been giving us as of lately?"

Heather chuckled. "Not exactly; Amdir tells me that you're the one to see about learning to hunt properly." Darren bowed modestly. "It's not just about archery of course, but we would start you off with your bow and arrows. To be a proper hunter, ye see, you need to be a master marksman. The idea is to finish off your target before it reaches you. The less you need to use your blades, the better a hunter you'll be. Even so, it's a foolish hunter who doesn't learn to wield a sword, so that will be a significant part of your training too.

Heather nodded. "I don't want to sound pushy or anything, but when can we get started? Amdir's in a bad way I'm afraid, and it kinda seems that I don't have much time to get good."

"We can work on your archery right away, like I said, it's the key skill in this job. Follow me, lass."

The lass followed as asked, onto the archery range several guardsmen were using. Heather rolled her eyes as she noted the lackadaisical mood exhibited by the guards. Rather than the full extension, several of the guards were drawing the string back as little as two-thirds, certainly a dangerous habit to be developing.

"Note what these men are doing...and don't take after them," Darren whispered. "A full extension, Heather, the angle determines where it goes."

She lined up in front of one of the targets about thirty yards away, her heart beating nervously. "I just want to get an idea of your current skill. First thing Heather, I want twenty shots aimed at your own leisure. Full extension now...good..."

Bull's-eye.

When she had loosed her twentieth arrow, Mills struggled to retain his composure. Of the twenty arrows, all but four had landed squarely in the bull's-eye, of the sixteen; six had been damaged by later arrows hitting them.

"An excellent grouping for a beginner, Heather, but you need to be able to do the same thing under combat conditions. This next group, I want twenty arrows in two minutes. Now, you have...thirty arrows in your quiver. When I say go, you reach back, grab the arrow by the fletching with your two string fingers, and as you nock the arrow, you are pulling back. Full extension...full extension, loose the arrow...and start again, understand?"

"Yep..."

"And...begin! One...two...three...four..." Heather relaxed, letting her muscles perform, letting her instincts aim and release. Two minutes later, there were eleven arrows in the bull's-eye, four of them damaged.

Darren let out a low whistle. He'd have been impressed if she'd gotten six in the bull's-eye, but to almost double that. No question that she had a talent for the bow. "Heather," he said, "if you'd been practicing for a month, that would have been respectable. You keep this up; you could be one of the great ones."

"So should I be able to handle the wolves in the area?"

"Oh most definitely. Of course, the difference is that wolves and other foes won't stand still for long when you are shooting at them. You'll want to make that first arrow count."

Heather nodded and returned to Amdir and Celandine. "We saw you training, Heather, you definitely have some innate talent as a Hunter. I'd even say that you could be a Ranger with some training, save that you aren't Dúnadan. If you feel up to it, seek out Dirk Mudbrick." Heather of course agreed to do so, but as she turned to leave, she was stopped by Celandine.

"Heather, dear, I must ask a favor of you as well. Amdir's would is not healing properly. I need you to seek out the herb known as Athelas or Kingsfoil, it will help his arm to mend. It can be found among the ruins in the area most likely."

Heather examined the wound a bit more closely. She had been in the Girl Scouts up till the time she started high school. She could recognize septicemia, but the wound showed none of the red streaks associated with blood poisoning.

Which was not to say that it looked good. She remembered enough from the movie to know what could happen.

"This'll sound strange coming from me, Celandine, but Amdir requires Elvish medicine. A Nazgûl blade, I don't know what kind of time he has, but the sooner we get him to Riverdale, the better his chances."

"Riverdale, child? I think you mean RIVENdell, or Imladris as the fair folk call it."

So she liked Archie comics, sheesh, she thought. "How far is it from here?"

"He's in no condition to travel, Heather, but the kingsfoil may buy him some time. Please hurry!"

Of course she scooted away like a scalded cat, stopping to see Dirk who needed some wolves killed.

The ruins, as it turned out were known as Bronwe's folly, a failed attempt by an old Cardolan lord to hold back Angmar in the Second Age. Heather was ignorant of this as she made her way to the crumbling edifice. Several wolves, wary and grey, looked upon her as she approached. One caught Heather's eye. She hesitated momentarily then nocked two arrows, breathed once, and loosed. A moment later the grey wolf fell, arrows striking home in its neck and heart. Not wanting to waste anything, she took out her dagger to get the meat and hide.

The two companion wolves, feeling threatened now by this intruder bounded towards Heather. She fended one off with her dagger, fished out an arrow and jabbed it into the nose of the other. As the wolf yelped in surprise, she nocked the arrow and shot it directly into the brain of the wolf. The remaining wolf, wounded and angry, charged at his momentarily disarmed foe and leapt. Instinctively Heather dove for the deep green flowered turf, but the wolf struck a glancing blow. She withdrew her dagger as the wolf landed and turned back towards her.

The two circled. Heather withdrew an arrow from her quiver, but didn't dare try to pick up the bow. Thinking of what a fool she'd look like if the wolf picked it up and ran off with it, she moved closer to it, then kneeled slowly to retrieve it.

In a flash, she had the bow and was nocking an arrow and the wolf darted towards her. She fired an arrow just as the wolf's teeth sank into her left buttock. Both yelped, but Heather finished off her quarry with her dagger. She finished skinning the wolves, and even tasted an exploratory strip of wolf meat.

As Celandine had said, the Kingsfoil was there in profusion and she collected more than enough asëa aranion leaves for the healing draught or poultice. Since it was on the way, she decided to speak to Dirk Mudbrick first.

"Nice work Heather, though there is more to be done. The reason I'm here in the first place...guarding sheep...is that the captain had me reassigned after I told him we should listen to Jon a bit more. Since then, I've been guarding sheep - and seeing more than a few brigands making their way through the woods, I'm certain they are doing their best to get a good look at us."

Dirk regarded her thoughtfully. "Heather, as soon as you are able, I want you to capture one of those spies, see if you can get anything out of him - and just return what you find to me."

"You want him alive, right?"

"Alive if at all possible, but please don't hesitate to kill them if they threaten you."

"...All right, but let me see to Amdir first, please."

Amdir was resting peacefully when Heather returned to Celandine's side. She watched, fascinated, as the hobbit mashed the leaves into a thick poultice. Heather cleaned the wound with soap and water, and Celandine coated the freshly cleaned would with the athelas poultice. Heather had to admit that the new bandages looked smart on Amdir's muscular shoulder.

"There's nothing to do now but wait," said Celandine. "We'll see to getting him to the Elves after he wakes. Have you learned anything else?"

"Just that Dirk, the watchman who tends the sheep, has seen some Blackwolds snooping about the village. He suggested that I track one down and see about loosening his tongue."

Celandine's eyes narrowed with concern. "Do you think that's wise? No offence of course, but your time as a hunter can be measured in mere hours."

Heather agreed, but with Amdir incapacitated, Dirk watching the sheep, and the rest of the watch being skeptical, the burden fell on her. Excusing herself, she made her way to the wilds around Archet.

She had thought that she had seen a figure crouched in some bushes when she had been gathering the Kingsfoil. Not wanting to come up on him directly, she circled around, hoping that he might still be there. As she came back around to that position, she spotted him moving between bushes, apparently to get into a better position. She readied two arrows and approached him. As she drew closer, he just happened to turn and see her. Heather was somewhat surprised that his reaction was to whip out a dagger and hurl it at her; she avoided it easily - sailing past her by about two feet. Her two arrows pierced both his chest and belly; he screamed and collapsed, moaning painfully.

"You idiot," she said angrily to the wounded man as she approached him, securing her bow and drawing her dagger. "Couldn't you tell I had the advantage?"

"A girl?"

"Yeah, I'm a girl who had a readied bow pointed directly at you! Put your hands out by your side, and cross your legs." He painfully complied moaning as he did so, and she searched him while standing on his right arm with the tip of her dagger resting pointedly on his throat. His sword was taken immediately, and a greenish vial was found in his breast pocket, along with some papers.

The man gasped and jolted, her dagger drew a trickle of blood.

"Are you..." Heather saw the man's eyes staring at her, sightless. She sighed and closed them, and stepped away from his body, regarding the papers.

"They burned the camp to ashes to take those halflings, so we will burn down the village to take them back. The Nazgûl will have their Baggins yet, and none to soon.

It is as I hoped. We will open a fine pass through their east wall, set Archet alight and fetch the halfling amidst the turmoil. We are also to take the Dúnadan alive. He will soon fall under the Shadow of the Iron Crown.

Inform Calder Cob to make ready for our attack. I will arrive there soon. Then we shall have our day!"

Eógan"

If this isn't a trick, thought Heather, this is some pretty convincing evidence. Obviously codes and ciphers hadn't come into their own on this world.

She regarded the young man lying dead from her arrows. She would have been amazed if he was older than her by more than a year or two. So stupid, she thought, wondering of the fate of souls in this realm. She removed the man's coat, and covered him with it, then made her way back to Dirk.

He was thrilled to read what she found. "Have you read this, Heather? It was just like Jonny said! Calder, in league with the Blackwolds! Jon warned us, but his father paid him no mind."

"I'll leave it to you to notify the Captain, if this doesn't convince him nothing will."

Heather was more than a little surprised at how quickly Brackenbrook was convinced. He turned her away at first, but took the papers she had uncovered at her insistence. His eyes widened and he moaned as he read.

"Jon was right, Heather. I've been a fool. He'd warned me about Calder Cob, but he's always been an able and trustworthy man...and now it seems that he's been driving me towards training rather than confronting the brigands."

Brackenbrook paced around nervously, muttering to himself. "How much information to the brigands have, how much time to we have to prepare. I must get word to my son. But first..." He turned to his aide. "Please inform Cob that I wish to see him." Regarding Heather he said, "You stay here, milady. I want you to see this," and handed her the Blackwold orders.

Less than ten minutes later, Cob entered the room. "You wanted to see me Captain?"

"Yes I did, Calder. Has any more progress been made with the Blackwolds?"

"We know that there has been an increase of spies and traffic in and out of the Blackwold roost."

"Yes, there has been. In fact," he indicated Heather, who smiled smarmily and waved, "this young lady actually killed a spy down by the south pond. What was it that you found, Miss Peters?"

"Just this." She handed the orders to Calder.

Calder Cob read the orders and his eyes widened. Brackenbrook nodded to two of his guards who went to Cob's side.

"You're under arrest, Cob."

Cob was thunderstruck. "Captain, you can't possibly think that..."

"Take him away; I expect he'll hanging by his neck by the end of next week."

Cob was furious. "You actually trust this, this girl more than one of your best soldiers?"

"No, I trust her more than you, I'm only sorry that I hadn't listened to my son. Besides, if you're innocent, I'm sure you'll manage to convince the magistrate in Bree."

Cob was led away by the jailor Ned Pruner, cursing bitterly.

Brackenbrook patted Heather on the shoulder. "Well done, young lady. Now then, down the road that you may have seen curving north along the hillside about a league is the hunting lodge. My son is most likely there. Inform him that I have seen the truth in what he says, and that Archet will require all the assistance it can muster." He turned to an aide. "Find the Ranger and bring him inside, give him whatever care he requires."

Heather remembered the road, and she jogged along to the hunting lodge. Jon Brackenbrook was please to see her, happier still at her news.

"Now that my father has seen the truth, we need to prepare the town. We'd been expecting a move we don't know what the timetable is. Heather, if you're up to it, sneak into the Blackwold roost tonight. See if you can cause some kind of diversion - that should give us time to prepare."

Heather was taken aback. Not twenty-four hours ago, she was trying to escape the Blackwolds, but to go back to them?

"And what if they move tonight?"

"They may. That's why we need you to give them pause. In fact if you are successful, they may be angry enough to attack tomorrow night when we are at our most prepared."

So it was on that logic that Heather found herself approaching the Blackwolds roost, an ancient burned-out husk of a building, under the waxing moon.

It's almost full, she thought to herself. She had done the math earlier. If tonight was the night of September 1st, it meant that in four days, the moon would be full.

She spied a Blackwold huddled behind a bush in the darkening twilight. An arrow to the back of the neck silenced him.

What bugged her was that she had no idea how long she'd been unconscious before she was found by Caldo. For all she knew, she had already turned eighteen.

Heather preferred to avoid a frontal attack, but the back way seemed just as heavily guarded. She had, somewhat foolishly, agreed to retrieve the satchel of one of the guards outside the lodge. Ann Granger had a farm that the Blackwolds had chased her off of, but in her flight, she had left it behind, if Heather could just please find it and return it.

Fine, thought Heather, they want me to create a diversion...I'll divert them.

Two guards stood outside by the front gate. Heather approached from the northwest, picking off Blackwolds silently. Create a diversion, thought Heather, but try to do it in a way that reduces their numbers without the whole place freaking out. About a hundred yards from the gate, behind a good-sized birch tree, Heather assessed the situation. There were three guards, seemingly oblivious to the reduction in allies, two swordsmen and one with a bow.

It would be an uphill assault, but at least she could take one out if she was lucky, and neutralize another for a time. Staying close to the ground, she crawled to the bush nearest to the old fortress. She quietly set a bear trap, and prepared her bow for action. She released.

The bowman screamed as Heather's arrow plunged into the woman's face.

"ALARM!!!! ALLLARM!!!" screamed both of the swordsmen, who then charged towards Heather. Heather fumbled a bit as she nocked two arrows and loosed. One arrow missed entirely, but the other struck one swordsman in the chest just as he was stepping into the trap. She secured her bow and drew the sword that she had found on the spy.

"Not used to your enemy coming up to you directly," snarled the remaining swordsman.

"Uh, nope!" Heather blocked his firm stroke, but it was soon obvious that she was overpowered and inexperienced and purely on the defensive. "Oh God, gemme outta this one!" The Blackwold swordsman brought a vicious slash crossing down on her, but rather than attempting to parry the strike, she ducked and rolled - picking up her bow and back into a standing position. She ran...but rather than making good her escape, she ran towards the uncovered gate, nocking an arrow as she did so. Even though the alarm was sounded, the Blackwolds seemed positively lethargic - except of course for the particular Blackwold that was trying to kill her and was now charging through the gate at her.

Heather fired an arrow and it caught him in the shoulder of his sword-arm. She took out her own sword and the pursuing Blackwold's own momentum plunged it deep into his belly. The sword grated on bone as Heather withdrew it. The man screamed in agony.

That scream got their attention. Heather realized that there were now at least fifty Blackwolds now extremely interested in and highly annoyed at her. She also spied a satchel on a table with old weapons and miscellaneous bric-a-brac. Heather darted towards the table, grabbed the satchel, hoping that it was the right one and turned around towards the exit.

It was a good thing that Heather had always enjoyed running. To the frustration of the Blackwolds, she disappeared into the night.

Exhausted from the day's exertions, she returned to the inn. She'd return the satchel to Ann tomorrow, but for now, she thought it would feel so wonderful to sink underneath those heavy covers, following a warm bath and a shave.

The innkeeper was happy to warm up the bathwater for her and secure soap. Razors were not to be had in Archet. "I'm not sure how it works in your part of the world, young miss, but even when our men shave, it's typically on a weekly basis or for special occasions."

Heather swallowed hard; thick black hair hadn't been limited to her head since her ninth birthday. Having a Black Irish father and Sicilian mother might be very inconvenient, her legs and armpits already felt scratchy. At least the bath proved to be warm and fresh. She checked the wounds she'd received over the day: the wound she had gotten last night seemed to be closing up nicely, and the skin was a healthy looking pink. It still stung a bit when washed. The wolf bite seemed to be just a nip, a few shallow scratches on her rump. Heather let herself sink into the deliciously warm water. By the time she got out, her hands and feet resembled raisins. She dried herself off, and slipped under the blankets, asleep before her head sank into the pillow.

It seemed like just a moment later that the sun was shining in her face again. The Blackwolds, she mused as she got dressed, must have held back, the town did appear to be standing.

Heather's primary concern was Amdir's condition. Grabbing a chunk of bread, she headed over to the barracks.

"He sleeps now, but that Kingsfoil helped considerably." Heather wasn't so sure. Amdir seemed somewhat more pale than before. She reiterated her concern, and her suggestion to seek out the elves. "As soon as he is ready, we should move him to Rivendell."

Celandine agreed, but countered that Ered Luin to the west might be the safer and somewhat closer alternative. "If we head east, we would have to cross the Lonelands and Trollshaws, that's quite dangerous territory." She couldn't argue with that reasoning, given her lack of geography.

"You may have to wait on that," said Captain Brackenbrook. "Before he slept, he stated that it was his intention to fight in defense of Archet, and a Ranger would be a great boon. I prefer that we wait till he awakens at least."

Heather didn't think this was necessarily the best course of action, but she thought it prudent to hold her tongue. "If you think that is the best idea, I need to return some property to one of your guards out by the hunter's lodge."

"If you are heading outside the gate I need to ask yet another favor of you, Heather. We are trying to bring everybody in the area within the gates. Cal Sprigley, you may have passed by his farm yesterday, refuses to come in with his family. You have an...intelligent face, he may listen to you. If he doesn't, just see what holds him back."

Finding the Captain's request quite reasonable; she departed for the Sprigley farm. The morning was red and somewhat cloudy. Suspecting that it would be raining before evening, she hurried south to the Sprigley's, and found the farm tucked along the valley wall. She approached the most senior farmhand and asked to see Cal Sprigley. He regarded her with a friendly but guarded expression.

"I assume you're here with a message from Thistlewool or Brackenbrook, but if you are, I assure you that it is our intention to stay. There is a more immediate problem right now."

Why am I not surprised, thought Heather.

"There is a rather aggressive boar we know as Old Bloodtusk..."

"And you were in the mood for some bacon?"

"That would be a pleasant bonus, come to think of it. How long have you been using that sword?"

"Just since yesterday, I had to take it from a young Blackwold who thought that a swordfight against a girl with an arrow pointed at his chest was the way to go."

Calshook his head at this, and with Heather's approval he withdrew her sword from its scabbard. "Considering the condition of the blade, I wouldn't be surprised if he was seen as expendable. But it should be sufficient for my task. Bring home the bacon, and I will give you one of my older swords. I did a bit of smithy work when I was younger," he explained.

Bloodtusk was to be found near the Blackwold's roost, and as she got closer, a few arrows were exchanged, one of Heather's to paralyzing effect.

"NO!! I CAN'T MOVE!!! NO!! OH GOD, HELP ME PLEASE!!!"

Seeing the man lying prostrate in the mud by the lake shore shook Heather badly. That in the course of the day she had ended the lives of thirteen men and one woman was disturbing enough, but another man's life may now have been altered forever because of her.

"Stay there!" she called to him. Old Bloodtusk had been spotted, and she quickly killed the animal with a single arrow and ran over to the sobbing Blackwold.

"Stay still...stay still," she ordered. Her arrow had probably pierced his stomach and the steel tip jutted out of his back right next to his spine. "In case you aren't aware, you are now my prisoner," she said wryly. "I'm gonna take you over to the hunter's lodge. She examined the wound. He was probably dead anyway, she thought. "Are you in pain?"

"My stomach!"

Yes, most likely dead. "That's good, that means there's a good chance that the paralysis is temporary. But for now we're going for a swim. I can't support you, but the water can." She took a vial of the Athelas and poured it down his throat. "That should keep you stable. What's your name, hon?"

"W-william."

They began to swim, with Heather supporting William's head as they swam the long path to the Hunting lodge. They spoke little to preserve their strength, and after two hours they were being assisted by Ann Granger and a dwarven hunter named Atli.

"He's...a Blackwold prisoner, but he's injured...can't walk," gasped Heather. "But I think that's just temporary if you can save his life...stomach wound." The hunters shook their heads grimly.

"Will, if you can give these guys some information that would help, now is the time to give it," she whispered furiously.

It was relayed by William that the Blackwolds intended to attack under a clear moonlit night. "But I'm just a striker, they may change it." If they had, it wasn't clear on that night, for the afternoon and evening were stormy and Heather found herself stuck in the lodge. September the third was similar, rain and wind all day and all night.

On the fourth, Heather got up feeling sticky and unwashed. Jon greeted her with the sober announcement that William had died over the night. He squeezed her arm gently.

"You did well to look after him, Heather, his information has probably saved lives, and he died doing the right thing. We will see that he is buried with full honors."

It was still raining as she left the lodge, but Heather didn't care. The cold water was the closest thing she'd had since her bath two days ago. She walked around to the Sprigley's.

"Oh so you do want your sword? Of course we found the remains of Old Bloodtusk. Quite a bit of weather we've been having, eh?" He handed her a sword. "This...should fit a young lady your size quite well."

She took the weapon. She had assumed, shortly after her arrival, that the swords would weigh about ten, maybe twenty, pounds, and would be unwieldy for someone of her diminutive stature, but three or four pounds was the norm. Cal Sprigley's sword was well-balanced, beautiful and expertly honed.

"I don't suppose I can convince you to come back to the town with me, could I?"

"Not on your life, little one, but we do appreciate your concern. Though if there is a raid, we'll be ready for them."

Heather took the long way back to the hunting lodge, honing her skill with the sword and bow on the way. Jon had assured her that there was good coin to be made with the pelts and meat, so she made sure not to waste anything. She was thinking, as she approached the hunting lodge with darkness falling, that she really should learn how to tan the hides she acquired, when she suddenly sensed that something was amiss...and caught the acrid odor of smoke on her nose. She darted into the lodge.

Something was amiss. "Heather, go talk to Jon now," ordered one of the hunters.

"Heather, glad you're here," said Brackenbrook curtly. "It's happening now, they are moving against Archet."

"How are..."

"Quiet, we are going to counterattack through the east gate. I hope you aren't afraid of spiders, 'cause that route is packed with them. The Blackwolds have launched a delayed two-pronged attack; the first was a suicide attack to fire the town. The main force is through the front gate, but if they can breach the East gate and link their forces, my father won't be able to hold them. The bulk of our archers will hold off the secondary force, but I need you to remove the Blackwold guards along the way so we can do the linking up."

Jon took her by the arm, pointing up the hill. "They left that upper pass unguarded. Take that route, wide around the lake so you aren't seen, and you'll have the high ground against the guards. GO!"

Heather went. She had taken the low route earlier to kill some spiders at Atli's behest, and it seemed that the Blackwolds were having more problems with them. She fired arrows as she came up towards the top of the berm, and three Blackwolds fell. Smoke was getting thicker and she noted the horrid red glow over the town.

Despite herself, she chuckled on hearing the screams of Blackwolds fighting off the spiders. Sure, just let the venom do the fighting for me, she thought, but a few arrows ensured that there would be no recovery. Ignoring the spiders herself, she made her way to the interior east gate of Archet.

She arrived just in time to see Calder Cob thrust his sword deep into the belly of jailor Ned Pruner.

"All right boys," shouted Cob. "Poor Ned is done for!!" He rounded on Heather. "Time to get my vengeance on you, wench!!"

It must be because I'm only four foot ten and ninety pounds, she thought, but can't they realize that the arrows don't care who is pulling the bowstring? Calder Cob must have obtained some armor somehow, because the arrow hitting his chest didn't penetrate significantly, but the arrow to his sword arm certainly did.

"Good thing, I fight left-handed, eh, Heather?"

Oh snap.

"Screw it, I'm better with the bow," she muttered to herself as she jabbed the arrow towards his face, bloodying his cheek. He thrust with his sword and Heather jumped, evading it while nocking the arrow, and releasing it into his left knee."

"AUUUUGHHHHHH!!!"

"Bet that hurt, didn't it?" She took her own sword and slashed at Cob viciously. Her blade struck home across his throat cutting down to the back of Cob's neck, he choked and was gone before hitting the ground.

Ned Pruner was on the ground, moaning. "Amdir, Heather, go to Amdir, he's close by...save the hobbits."

She ran through the gate as soon as Ned's wife opened it. Two Blackwolds charged at her, but were quickly neutralized, she ran to Amdir's side. He stood upon seeing her, clutching his left shoulder.

"Heather, you've proven to be a boon companion these past days. We must save the hobbits from Eógan. Draw some water from that well to extinguish the flames, and we will fight him together."

She did as she was told, sweating furiously in the fierce heat.

"Come now."

She thought she heard Jon Brackenbrook scream in anguish as they ran into the town square. Indeed, she saw the figure of Captain Brackenbrook keel over. Amdir withdrew his sword.

"You shall pay for your crimes, villain!"

"Then," said Eógan, "come Dúnadan, end this."

Amdir approached Eógan, and then, to Heather's horror, fell to his knees, screaming.

"AMDIR!!"

"The Nazgûl's blade has sapped your will, Dúnadan. Otto, take our friend away." "You," he said to Amdir, "deal with the whelps," pointing to the Archet villagers fighting.

"Yes..." said Amdir dully.

"Amdir, no!!" It was Celandine screaming.

Heather fired at Otto, and pierced the back of his skull, he fell in a heap. She dodged an arrow fired at her from the burning hulk of the Badger Inn, and returned fire, piercing the woman in the stomach.

"Enough," muttered Eógan. "I shall deal with you myself!" He'd drawn a vicious-looking blade. Eógan had led the attack, but it was soon apparent that Heather's swordsmanship had grown superior in the short time that she was there. She parried a downward slash, forcing Eógan's sword to the ground, and thrust her own sword into his side.

Eógan collapsed with a groan, and Heather rushed to the side of the Hobbits.

"Are you two all right?"

"Oh thank goodness, Heather," said Mungo. That...that Eógan fellow, he kept asking me questions, as if I knew about some great treasure or something. I kept on telling him I knew nothing, but he didn't believe me! He said that I was the halfling who had gone off with the dwarves, but those are Mad Baggins' tales. I didn't have anything to do with those stories!"

"'Mad Baggins,' you mean Bilbo?"

"Eógan moves!"

Heather whipped around to see Eógan staggering up. Forgetting her bow, anger surged through her.

"So this Baggins...was telling the truth. He is...useless...to us." Eógan gasped in pain. "It is no matter, we have the Dúnadan..." With that declaration, Eógan staggered through the flames to join the retreating Blackwolds.

Heather started after him, but was held back by Celandine's surprisingly strong hand.

"Pay him no mind, Heather. His time will come soon enough. But you have saved our lives; we are both deeply indebted to you. Mundo and I shall be returning to the Shire, you should probably see to Amdir...I fear what will become of him. When this is over, please visit us in the Shire."

Heather shook Mundo's hand and hugged Celandine. Then, as she joined Jon Brackenbrook to extinguish the flames burning the village, she noticed the full moon shining high and harmlessly above her.

She smiled.