Part One

~*~Part One~*~

He was going to be late.

There was no way around it.

That little encounter with the Balrog had pretty much run merry havoc with the schedule he had needed to keep. Now everything was thrown out of sequence and he was rushing about like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off.

Oh well, nothing to be done about it now.

Hurrying was definitely still in order, though.

In an ideal world he would have had time to meet with her, to counsel her about this world and its peoples before he met up with the others. That was ideal, of course; and nothing had gone ideally so far. No, from what he understood, nothing was going anything close to ‘according to plan’. And it was all his fault, of course. If he had been strong enough to get them through Moria. If he could have only defeated the Balrog and managed to stay alive in the process.

There were thousands of things that could have been or should have been. But none of them mattered at this point.

Not when he was running late.

He tramped through the woods, staff in hand, paying no heed to the sounds that others assumed were spirits or something more foul haunting the trees. There may be spirits in the woods, he conceded, but the creatures making the noises that terrified so many were just the Ents talking to one another.

But that was not here or there.

And he was late.

He sighed, trudging on. So close.

When he had gone deep into the forest, to a place few had ever seen, the wizard in white stopped, looking around.

“Supposed to be here. . .” He frowned, glaring at the ground, at the clearing. He wasn’t that late, was he? Had she came and went already? Wandering the earth without himself as a guide. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. She could get into so much trouble without –

“Thank goodness.” He breathed, eyes alighting on the object he had been searching for. It was barely visible, mostly covered by leaves and a few twigs from the trees overhead; a large cocoon, much larger than that made by any spiders or insects known to inhabit Middle Earth.

But this cocoon wasn’t for a spider.

Nor for an insect, either.

It was for a woman.

He brushed aside the leaves, noting that the cocoon was hard to the touch, protective of its occupant. He slid his knife from his boot and cut into the silky material, marveling at how easily it fell away for him; though he knew it would do so for no other except maybe the woman within it.

The first thing he saw of her was her hair. Red, like the fires of the pits he had crawled out of. It fell about her shoulders, framing a face that was as fair as an Elven beauty. He smiled, sliding the knife further down the cocoon to reveal the rest of her body. She was clothed, and that was a relief. He hadn’t known what to expect when this prophecy was first passed down to him. It was not a dress, however, but forest green breeches in soft, supple leather, a tan colored shirt, and a cloak to match the pants. Her footwear was not the delicate slippers of a maiden, but boots meant for hiking.

So far, so good, it seemed. A dress would not have lasted long on their quest; and he had not had time to find a change of clothes for her.

He sat back on his heels, the edge of his robes trailing along the ground, grabbing up bits of dead leaf. The sun was high overhead, and time was wasting. Would she wake on her own, now that the cocoon had been breached or was there something else for him to do? Everything had been so vague.

“Miss?” He called out, watching her for any signs of waking. She breathed. That was a good sign. Breathing meant that she was still living, that his delay hadn’t done anything to permanently endanger her or her mission in this world.

She stirred, moaning softly; as though the sound of his voice was a horn in the morning, calling her to alertness.

“Just a few more minutes, k?”

And then she did the unimaginable.

She rolled over and went back to sleep.

Had he not been in such a hurry, the wizard was sure that he would have found her comment amusing. As it was, he did allow himself a small chuckle at her expense before proceeding.

“You need to wake up now. It is time.”

“Time?” She murmured sleepily, rolling over and onto her back. She opened her eyes, staring up at the forest canopy over her. “Time? Oh, Goddess. Its time.”

She stumbled in her haste to get from the cocoon, wavering on legs that had never before stood in this world. A myriad of emotions was passing over her face as he watched, reaching out a hand to steady her; pain, fear, excitement, wonder. It was all there.

“Willow?” He ventured quietly when it was apparent she had become lost in her thoughts.

“Y-Yes?” Her voice wavered in hesitation, green eyes darting to this man that was standing before her, holding onto her elbow and preventing her from falling flat onto her backside. “I know it all. . . so much. . . too much. . . why did I do those things. . .”

“Not you.” He corrected her gently. “*Her*. You are not *Her*, just as she can never be you again. The two of you are separate.”

Willow shook her head.

“But we’re not. Not really. Same blood. Same soul. . . though maybe not. . . because she’s gone now and I’m still here. . . have to make things right. . . Goddess. . . so much to do, so little time. . .”

He held up a hand.

“Calm down. You have plenty of time. . . Though we must hurry.”

She paused her frantic pacing, staring at him with wide eyes.

”Plenty of time? To save the world? Not even my world.” Her voice broke, mind overloading with the reality of her situation. “Though I made it. . . I made this world.”

“Again – that was *Her*, not you.”

She waved a hand in exasperation.

“And again, Mister White Robe, *She* and *Me* are the same. Very little difference.”

“My name is Gandalf.” He smiled gently. “And, for all of our sake, I do hope that there is one large difference between yourself and the one that Unmade the world.”

Willow raised her eyebrows, her face paling.

“Well I won’t be doing that anytime soon, I guess.”

Gandalf chuckled.

“Then I would say there’s one very large difference between you and *She*, wouldn’t you agree?”

He waited for her to nod before gesturing for her to follow.

“Come along, we have somewhere to be and not much time to get there. You can ask any questions you may have on the way.”

He only hoped he was up to the task of instructing her in a world *She* had created once upon a time ago; for his failure could mean the failure of the woman that was walking behind him now.

And that kind of failure would be nothing short of apocalyptic.

~*~From the Ashes, Reborn: Part One~*~

He was going to be late.

There was no way around it.

That little encounter with the Balrog had pretty much run merry havoc with the schedule he had needed to keep. Now everything was thrown out of sequence and he was rushing about like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off.

Oh well, nothing to be done about it now.

Hurrying was definitely still in order, though.

In an ideal world he would have had time to meet with her, to counsel her about this world and its peoples before he met up with the others. That was ideal, of course; and nothing had gone ideally so far. No, from what he understood, nothing was going anything close to ‘according to plan’. And it was all his fault, of course. If he had been strong enough to get them through Moria. If he could have only defeated the Balrog and managed to stay alive in the process.

There were thousands of things that could have been or should have been. But none of them mattered at this point.

Not when he was running late.

He tramped through the woods, staff in hand, paying no heed to the sounds that others assumed were spirits or something more foul haunting the trees. There may be spirits in the woods, he conceded, but the creatures making the noises that terrified so many were just the Ents talking to one another.

But that was not here or there.

And he was late.

He sighed, trudging on. So close.

When he had gone deep into the forest, to a place few had ever seen, the wizard in white stopped, looking around.

“Supposed to be here. . .” He frowned, glaring at the ground, at the clearing. He wasn’t that late, was he? Had she come and gone already? Wandering the earth without himself as a guide. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. She could get into so much trouble without –

“Thank goodness.” He breathed, eyes alighting on the object he had been searching for. It was barely visible, mostly covered by leaves and a few twigs from the trees overhead; a large cocoon, much larger than that made by any spiders or insects known to inhabit Middle Earth.

But this cocoon wasn’t for a spider.

Nor for an insect, either.

It was for a woman.

He brushed aside the leaves, noting that the cocoon was hard to the touch, protective of its occupant. He slid his knife from his boot and cut into the silky material, marveling at how easily it fell away for him; though he knew it would do so for no other except maybe the woman within it.

The first thing he saw of her was her hair. Red, like the fires of the pits he had crawled out of. It fell about her shoulders, framing a face that was as fair as an Elven beauty. He smiled, sliding the knife further down the cocoon to reveal the rest of her body. She was clothed, and that was a relief. He hadn’t known what to expect when this prophecy was first passed down to him. It was not a dress, however, but forest green breeches in soft, supple leather, a tan colored shirt, and a cloak to match the pants. Her footwear was not the delicate slippers of a maiden, but boots meant for hiking.

So far, so good, it seemed. A dress would not have lasted long on their quest; and he had not had time to find a change of clothes for her.

He sat back on his heels, the edge of his robes trailing along the ground, grabbing up bits of dead leaf. The sun was high overhead, and time was wasting. Would she wake on her own, now that the cocoon had been breached or was there something else for him to do? Everything had been so vague.

“Miss?” He called out, watching her for any signs of waking. She breathed. That was a good sign. Breathing meant that she was still living, that his delay hadn’t done anything to permanently endanger her or her mission in this world.

She stirred, moaning softly; as though the sound of his voice was a horn in the morning, calling her to alertness.

“Just a few more minutes, k?”

And then she did the unimaginable.

She rolled over and went back to sleep.

Had he not been in such a hurry, the wizard was sure that he would have found her comment amusing. As it was, he did allow himself a small chuckle at her expense before proceeding.

“You need to wake up now. It is time.”

“Time?” She murmured sleepily, rolling over and onto her back. She opened her eyes, staring up at the forest canopy over her. “Time? Oh, Goddess. Its time.”

She stumbled in her haste to get from the cocoon, wavering on legs that had never before stood in this world. A myriad of emotions was passing over her face as he watched, reaching out a hand to steady her; pain, fear, excitement, wonder. It was all there.

“Willow?” He ventured quietly when it was apparent she had become lost in her thoughts.

“Y-Yes?” Her voice wavered in hesitation, green eyes darting to this man that was standing before her, holding onto her elbow and preventing her from falling flat onto her backside. “I know it all. . . so much. . . too much. . . why did I do those things. . .”

“Not you.” He corrected her gently. “*Her*. You are not *Her*, just as she can never be you again. The two of you are separate.”

Willow shook her head.

“But we’re not. Not really. Same blood. Same soul. . . though maybe not. . . because she’s gone now and I’m still here. . . have to make things right. . . Goddess. . . so much to do, so little time. . .”

He held up a hand.

“Calm down. You have plenty of time. . . Though we must hurry.”

She paused her frantic pacing, staring at him with wide eyes.

”Plenty of time? To save the world? Not even my world.” Her voice broke, mind overloading with the reality of her situation. “Though I made it. . . I made this world.”

“Again – that was *Her*, not you.”

She waved a hand in exasperation.

“And again, Mister White Robe, *She* and *Me* are the same. Very little difference.”

“My name is Gandalf.” He smiled gently. “And, for all of our sake, I do hope that there is one large difference between yourself and the one that Unmade the World.”

Willow raised her eyebrows, her face paling.

“Well I won’t be doing that anytime soon, I guess.”

Gandalf chuckled.

“Then I would say there’s one very large difference between you and *She*, wouldn’t you agree?”

He waited for her to nod before gesturing for her to follow.

“Come along, we have somewhere to be and not much time to get there. You can ask any questions you may have on the way.”

He only hoped he was up to the task of instructing her in a world *She* had created once upon a time ago; for his failure could mean the failure of the woman that was walking behind him now.

And that kind of failure would be nothing short of apocalyptic.

~*~End Part One~*~