Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien's characters or plots, nor do I have any rights to the Texas Rangers.

Author's Note: This story is mostly wishful thinking, I am afraid. However, it means a lot to me, and I would love some feedback, especially from you fellow baseball fans out there. I should be posting the remaining four chapters quickly since the regular season is finishing up and I want this to be out before baseball is over. Enjoy! Just so you know, I have written a lot of things in my life, but none that were as fulfilling as this, and none made me smile and laugh so many times as this.

1

The Texas sky was now a dark blue except to the west, where it had traces of pink and gold from the setting sun. There were very few clouds, and the wind was gentle, hardly enough to raise the flags that hung on their poles high above the structure on which they stood. The air was, as it always in Texas during early September, hot and heavy.

Most of the fans in the Rangers' Ballpark were used to this temperature, and thus they did not grumble. The few loyal northerners who had travelled south for the baseball game fanned themselves with pamphlets and panted, sipping cold water from their cups. Their discomfort was eased somewhat by the current condition of the game.

While many Rangers' fans were huffing about their team's poor performance, one person sat in silence, watching the field below with keen and perceptive eyes. He was like a shadow in almost every sense of the word. His clothes were what the average American would call plain and strange. The person's dark hair was past his shoulders, and his expression was nearly impossible to read.

He sat without moving or cheering, almost as if he were asleep. This led the fans around him to assume that he was bored and without care. One spoiled child even had the nerve to call the person a freak, but this rude comment was met with a stare so cold that the boy's smirk turned into a gaping mouth of fear, and he quickly ran back to his mother. The person's shining eyes could cause anyone to back down, and a small brat was no exception.

The people seated near him were so young, the stranger mused. They were a mere breath: a vapor in the face of history. All the long years of their lives were a blink in his ancient eye. He smiled at the thought. If they knew how many ages he had seen, how many deaths he had witnessed, how many loved ones he had lost…

There was a crack as a bat hit the pitch it had been delivered and sent the ball sailing into the outfield. It was easily caught, and the torment was over for the Rangers' fans. The silent person in the stands wondered for a brief second why he liked baseball if it were so pointless. The only team he liked had endured a miserable season, and while in the Ballpark, all the strange person received from others were confused and suspicious looks. Why did he decide to come here?

Because I like baseball, the person thought to himself with a small grin. It's most enjoyable to watch, and the Rangers are my team. When he was first introduced to baseball, the Rangers had been the team to win the game he had watched, and that caused him to be a true fan. His loyalty to the team was surprisingly strong, especially since they were only a sports franchise. He supposed another reason he loved the Rangers was the casual and often teasing friendship between several of Texas' players. They reminded him of friends and brothers long gone. How he missed them.

What would the Rangers' players think if they knew one of the Firstborn was rooting for them?

The person felt pity smite his heart when he eyed the disappointed look on the pitcher's face as the team began to head for the dugout. The players all had defeat and despair in their eyes, and the person wished there were something he could do. Then, out of the blue, an absolutely insane idea entered his head. He tried to shove it out, but it fought his common sense with such ferocity that he could not continue the battle for long. He quietly and calmly rose from his place and walked down the stairs leading toward the foul ground and dugout.

. . .

The field was now emptying of players as the top of the seventh inning came to a close. Neal Cotts, one of the Texas Rangers' relieving pitchers, stomped into the dugout with the rest of his team members and threw down his hat in frustration. He sat down hard on the wooden bench next to the other pitchers and heaved a sigh of disappointment. Looking up at the scoreboard shamefully, he read its contents to himself in his head.

New York Yankees: 15. Texas Rangers: 1.

He had given up four of those runs. He had let his team down. Glancing at Robbie Ross, the starting pitcher, he read the same guilt and sadness in the man's eyes. Ross had given up the first seven runs, and then Mendez had relieved him only to give up four more. Last inning, Cotts had come in hoping to at least keep the game where it was, but he too had failed. Yet another game in this terrible season was going to be a horrific loss.

"It's alright, man," Cotts heard Jon Edwards, another reliever, say in encouragement. He seated himself beside Cotts and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault: the Yanks are just good hitters."

Cotts nodded, though he did not agree with the recently called up rookie. Edwards saw this, but he decided not press to the matter. The team's spirit was all but broken now, and even Andrus, the Rangers' most giddy shortstop, could hardly have caused someone to laugh. This whole season had been awful, and with a record of 53 wins and 86 losses, they were in the basement of all of baseball. This was enough shame in itself, but being crushed at home made the burden almost too much to bear.

A loud voice came over the intercom and requested that everyone participate in singing God Bless America. Cotts stood reluctantly, but Edwards was more than willing. He had always considered the song a prayer, and he thought about the words as he sang. It was a truly wonderful song, even in a time like this.

A movement to the right of the dugout caught Edward's eye as the song drew to a close. Someone leapt gracefully over the railing and onto the field, landing with more skill than a cat. The person walked nonchalantly to the dugout, and Edwards looked around at his fellow players to see if they'd noticed. What in the world was this crazy fan doing?

Several other Rangers saw the man and stared. Ron Washington, the team manager, soon spotted the intruder and gave a surprised yell.

"Hey! Who are you? What are you doing on the field?" The manager's frustration and strain from the game were easily seen in his tone, though he tried to be as polite as possible. He glanced around for the security guards who should have been keeping such admirers in the stands.

"May I have a brief word with the team?" the stranger asked.

The person moved closer, and for the first time, Ron got a look at the strange fan. He almost gasped, for the face was unlike any he had ever seen before. Adjectives like sad, fair, and noble came to his mind quickly, and just the look from the person's shining eyes made him hesitate to refuse. The security guards finally showed up, but Washington waved them down. What could the person say that would be bad anyway?

"We are in the middle of a game," Ron said.

"I will be brief," the person insisted. "Please."

The tone used in saying the word 'please' ended whatever war was going on in Ron's mind. Washington nodded reluctantly, unable to believe how easily he had just let a complete stranger into his professional baseball dugout. What was he thinking? Yet, at the same time, how could he deny such a strange request, and from this person no less?

The person grinned politely in thanks and made his way to the stairs and down into the dugout. Several general exclamations and questions were quietly voiced at the intrusion, but Ron told the players to be quiet. When the Rangers looked into their guest's eyes, their questions were silenced, and they listened eagerly to hear what he had come to say.

I have a few important things to say. First off, every single detail in this story is accurate for early September, 2014. Every player played the same position and is in the lineup just as I have written, every stat that is given in future chapters is true, and the wins and losses number is correct (for early September). The game itself is fictitious, but it could have happened exactly like this in real life, minus our unknown guest. Second, I chose the Yankees randomly as the opponent of my Texas Rangers. I know nothing about them, and I will not list any of their names or stats. Don't take it personally if they are not portrayed as kindly as the Rangers: I live in a baseball fantasy where the Rangers' players are all more awesome than everyone else, and I like it. If my fantasy doesn't match your fantasy, don't get mad: it's all a fantasy, unless you know the players personally.

I would also like to go ahead and say that lots of the players on the Rangers team have accent marks over several letters in their names, but their jerseys don't have these, so I'm not going to write them that way. The only name I need to mention this for specifically is Martin, which is pronounced "Mar-teen", not "Mar-tin".

Just as an aside to this really long author's note, I wrote this when the Rangers were doing about as badly as possible. They had won two games in a row only once or twice in three months. After I finished this story, they exploded, and as of today, they've won twelve of fourteen and snagged the last four series, three of those being sweeps. So, I penned this when hope was almost, but I am posting it while the Rangers are doing well. That may bring in some perspective: I don't know.

I hope y'all like this: please review, and maybe if you're not a big baseball fan, pass this on to some who is! If you happen to know any players for the Rangers team, I implore you to get this to them immediately: I wrote it for them!