"I have many names," says the man as he sets up to make a tea of the herbs he found. "In this company I am known as Strider."

"We're hobbits. I'm Pippin, this is Merry, that's Sam."

"Very mysterious of you," a wry smile.

He gives a polite introduction-bow to the hobbits.  "Well, if the gods want me to protect you, I will, and perhaps one day you will tell me why.  But I would be surprised if you were just common travelers meeting the usual kinds of misfortunes on this road.  Unless people appearing like we did is common here?"  For all he knows, it is, although he thinks their reactions didn't point that way.

"No, I have never seen the like, nor heard tales of it in all my travels." He pauses, staring intently at Marc and Samora in turn. "We are not ordinary travelers, and our business is not ordinary business. But there is danger in speaking of it, even to trustworthy folk."

Marc holds the eye contact calmly, and nods.  "One day, as I said.  I truly do not mean to press you.  I would feel less strange if I knew more of where I am and what I can expect here, but there should be plenty you can tell me that isn't secret."

"And you, lady Samora?  What are your thoughts on all this?  You seem one who might know more of the gods and their designs."  And no matter how much she knows, she is just as alone here as he is.

"I know a little about the gods, but not which one sent me here or why. If I had to guess, the Inheritor would have an easier time sending Her own priest than another god would, and whatever those wraiths want I'm very likely against it."

"This world is known as Middle-Earth, and the most important thing to know is that the dark lord Sauron is gathering his forces in the East. He seeks to bring the whole world under his rule, and all the free peoples of Middle-Earth--Men, Elves, Dwarves, and Hobbits--must unite against him if any of our homes are to survive. It is to that end that we are going to Rivendell, and there a Council of the Wise will decide how best we may withstand him."

Ah, so an Evil tyrant is trying to conquer the world with an army heavily featuring undead and there needs to be both diplomacy and war done about it. "Yes, that sounds like just the sort of thing Iomedae would want to help with. You will have whatever aid I can give you."

"And mine as well.  If everything is as you tell it, it sounds a straightforwardly awful thing.  Though... I'm surprised it's quite so straightforward.  Who are this dark lord's forces?  I ask because," a touch of hesitation, a sigh, "my countrymen nearly became a dark god's army, in the last year, and if others are in that situation I would want to at least know.  Though I will grant you that the wraiths seem like demons rather than anything one can treat with."

"Not all of the enemy's forces are like the Nine. Most of them are orcs, a fierce race he breeds in great pits and raises knowing nothing but war, and some are men he has already conquered. None serve him willingly save his fellow spirits of darkness and the wraiths he has warped to have no will but his own."

"None, truly?  I have seen people willingly do very terrible things.  Perhaps it is different here.  --I don't mean to argue with you, but if I don't tell you what I find difficult to believe then you won't know what to tell me so I can understand."  It is a new world – things really might be entirely different here, in some way he's failing to imagine, and he doesn't want to antagonize his companions in discovering it. 

"There are those among the dark lord's forces who would serve him willingly, out of greed or the love of strength, but he does not desire willing service. He desires fear, and those who have once bound themselves to him cannot leave."

"I'd say that was good news, in that if he can be killed his army is likely to fall apart without him, but that's easier said than done. If I say I'm fifth circle that probably doesn't mean anything to you--hmm, if my party were here and prepped for it we could take on a dragon that was just barely an adult?" And here she thought the conversion scale from circles to dragons was for silly people boasting in taverns. "What does he use to keep his army in line, fear or enchantments or a mix?"

"Fear, in the case of the men; in the case of the orcs, they know no homes but his strongholds and no way to support themselves without his artifice, and they are trained all their lives to thirst for blood."

"That he doesn't desire willing service might be the worst thing I have ever heard said of someone.  But yes, good news in many senses."

"I... have no idea what a dragon of any size is like, and always thought them a story for children. You could perhaps just tell us what you can do?"

"He is not a man, but a dark power. There have been few in the history of the world who could surpass him in cruelty and malice."

If he's an actual fiend that helps a bit. "I'm primarily a spellcaster, mix of offense, healing, and spells for strengthening my allies, but I can prepare any of a pretty wide range of spells in the morning if I know I'm expecting a particular weird situation. I get three of my most powerful type of spell per day, five of the next strongest, then eight, then seven, then some cantrips like creating clean water I can cast as many times as I want. I can detect Evil creatures. I'm especially good at attacking fiends and the undead; I think those wraiths earlier may have been undead and it sounds like it's possible the dark lord is a fiend? I have an aura that extends twenty feet from me in every direction that suppresses weak magic done by Evil beings and makes it harder to enchant anyone standing in it. I can see in the dark. I don't need to eat or sleep and I don't get cold. And I'm alright with a sword in a pinch."

She just... has magic, fountains of it, whenever she wants.  This is past being a great holy priestess and into – Marc doesn't even know what.  Clearly her world is very different – she doesn't speak as if all this is as unprecedented as it is for him – but there are many ways for this to be true.

"You don't... need to eat or sleep?...  Forgive me for asking, my lady, but are you human at all, as you seem to me?"

"Yes, I'm human.I have some of the gifts Heaven gives to its residents that clerics don't commonly get, because I stepped in a planar tear by accident, but I was born to a human man and a human woman, and when I die I'll go before the Judge same as anyone."

The athelas tea Strider has been brewing is now steeped and cooled to his satisfaction; he pours some over Frodo's wound. The sweet smell of the leaves rises all around them, clearing heads and restoring strength.

Frodo breathes a little sigh of relief and tries to move his arm, but stops again with a wince almost immediately. "Thank you."

"Do you think you can stand?" he asks gently.

"No. Not long enough to matter. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have . . ." he trails off and tries to pull more of his cloak around his bad arm with his good one.

He nods at Samora's answer, and sits in thought for a while, still lacking a way to think of her that makes sense of what she's like.  Well, it's only been an hour. 

The healing herb really is wonderful.  He smiles at Strider, taking in a deep breath, then looks at Frodo with sympathy.  "You don't look very difficult to carry, if walking through the night would help."  They're all exhausted with travel and fear, clearly enough, but Marc was just at home in the middle of the day, well-fed and well-rested. "But it's not as if they can't chase us. Or is Rivendell close enough to reach before they manage it?"  It's odd to have so little idea what course of action might make sense.