Summary: A rather important Companion Chooses someone rather unique.

Disclaimer: You peeps know the drill. Everything you recognize belongs to Mercedes Lackey and everything you don't belongs to me.

A/N When I rewrote this chappie, I changed a few details: Ricki's breed and color, little things like that. I also combined the first two chappies into one chap.

Chapter One: Rolan's Choice

Kalira Jacobs dropped her backpack in the tackroom under her saddle pad. A picture of a hawk in flight decorated the sweat-stained cloth. Kalira stifled a laugh as an image came to mind: herself, dressed in flamboyant mage robes, an oversized hawk on her shoulder.

Kalira yanked herself out of daydreams and grabbed a leather halter. Ricki, the name of her Hanoverian mare, was engraved on the brass nameplate attached to the cheek strap. Shaking her head at the stupidity of her daydreams, she left the tackroom. It's not as if she'd ever be in the same universe as one of the Tayledras. And even if –by some miracle, contrived by Vkandis and Kal'enel herself- she actually managed to get to Velgarth, she'd never be adopted by one of the secretive clans.

She walked down the rows of stalls. Most were emptied in favor of some paddock or another. She waved to other people, three of whom were tacking up for the same purpose she was running to get Ricki: the lesson with Kristin, the trainer that the eight of them –her and Ricki, Missy and Cobra, Sammy and Gambler, and Gen and Jake- worked with twice a week. Right now, Kalira was working towards a prestigious Hunter/Jumper show at a big barn down in Newton, MA.

Kalira inhaled the smell of hay and horses before stepping out of the dim barn. She broke into a job, after checking that there were no horses on the dirt path. Looking at the sky, she grimaced. Clouds obscured the sun: storm clouds. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled and as she climbed the hill leading to the north field where Ricki lived, it began to rain. Kalira groaned. Ricki would be wet, she'd undoubtedly roll in the mud later and cleaning watermarks off her saddle definitely didn't count as fun. Also, if the rain didn't let up soon, the courses at the show, three days from now, would be sloppy.

When she got to the fence, beginning to turn a dark brown from the rain that soaked her earlobe length red-brown hair, she began to wonder if today was cursed. Ricki and the other occupants of this field were nowhere to be seen. "With this luck," she muttered as she climbed over the fence. "I'll fall off Ricki today and land in the-" Her words were halted abruptly as she slipped on the wet wood and fell. "Thank god it's not muddy yet," she muttered. "Of all the gods-cursed, simpleminded-" Her words trailed off and she quickened her pace, when she saw a patch of white moving near the shed that doubled as a shelter for the horses. There were no grey horses in this paddock. One must have gotten loose from somewhere.

She pulled the lead rope from where it was threaded through her belt loops and walked over, slowly. A flash of chestnut to the left of the white told her Ricki wasn't far from the strange horse.

As she neared, she saw that it was a white –not grey- stallion. Bigger than Ricki –a feat to be sure- he probably stood about 18 hands tall and was built big and muscular, almost like a warhorse would be. She laid a cautious hand on his neck, thanked every god she'd ever heard of that Ricki wasn't in season and quickly wrapped the lead rope around his head in a make-shit halter.

:I think not,: a grave voice said. Kalira found herself fixed in the blue-eyed stare of the 'horse'. Her emerald eyes widened in shock. :You are correct in your thinking, Kalira. I am a Companion, Chosen. My name is Rolan.:

The face that she was talking to a Companion penetrated almost as fast as the fact that she was talking to –not just any Companion- but the Queen's Own Companion, Rolan, and he'd just called her Chosen. "Chosen?!" she blurted. "That's impossible!! How could-" she paled as she caught a glimpse of the doorway leading to the shed. Only it didn't lead to the shed anymore. Instead, there were three people waiting in a grove of trees and two not people. A woman, dressed in white clothing, with silver hair that she looked too young to possess had her eyes shut in concentration. A man, dressed in clothing that was –at least by Kalira's definition- not normal, who also had silver hair that did not look as if it were due to age had one hand on her shoulder. Another woman, this one dressed in brown leather, her blond hair back in a tight braid, watched Kalira carefully. Finally, two Companions, both of them mares, stood, waiting.

Kalira realized she was staring into Velgarth and fainted.

********************************@~8~*********************************

Elspeth drew more and more strength from Darkwind, Sayvil and Gwena. "Kero," she said, voice strained by the amount of power and concentration she was devoting to the Gate. "Run through now and get that girl on this side of the Gate. Hurry; we can't hold it much longer." Kero was already across. Sayvil had gotten Rolan's permission, and Kero swung up into Rolan's saddle and pulled his Chosen up in front of her. Rolan put on a burst of speed and Elspeth collapsed the Gate as soon as the three of them were safely across. Kero swung out of Rolan's saddle easily. Darkwind was bent over Elspeth's unconscious form.

"She'll be fine," he said swiftly. "Better than me, anyway. I have a headache that makes me wish a Mage Storm were here to put me out of my misery." Kero chuckled humorlessly.

:Anyone think anything of getting all these unconscious people inside,: Sayvil said sarcastically. :It might be a good idea.: Darkwind nodded.

:I can carry Elspeth and Darkwind,: Gwena put in quickly. :For despite his protests to the contrary, he's about to collapse as well.:

"I will take you up on that," Darkwind said gratefully. "I'm not about to protest that offer."

:Good.:

Kero helped Darkwind mount and pull Elspeth onto Gwena's back in front of him. She mounted Sayvil and steadied Rolan's Chosen as Sayvil edged up next to the stallion. :Kalira,: Sayvil supplied. :That's her name. And she's from some place called America. Rolan won't tell us anything else.: She snorted. :Stallions. Other than your Eldan, men don't generally have much to contribute.:

:That's not fair,: Kero protested. :That's a generalization.:

:All I know is that the men I've known had a habit of getting themselves into more trouble than they could get out of alive, and being suicidal and devoted to stupid causes, like twins that didn't know when enough was enough, or lifebonded to people that were devoted to twins that didn't know when enough was enough.: Kero sighed. A cryptic and typically Companion remark.

********************************@~8~*********************************

Dirk awoke out of his now familiar nightmares with a jolt. They were always the same, but he could never remember them once he awoke. In his fear, he forgot the events of the last few weeks and reached for Talia sleeping beside him. For the 5th time in as many weeks, he found only his Companion, Ahrodie, lying there, already awake and looking at him, concerned. He swallowed back the lump of tears that had lodged in his throat since-

:Talia again?:  Ahrodie's mindspeech was full of sympathy. Dirk felt ever-present grief raise it's head once more.

"Who else?" he murmured harshly. Ahrodie nuzzled his hair, then pushed to her feet.

:Gwena needs you, Chosen.:

"Another mourning session?" he asked bitterly.

:No. Rolan has returned. And he's Chosen someone very unexpected. Talia's successor is- not from Valdemar. In fact, she is not from this world at all.:

********************************@~8~*********************************

Dirk stared in mingled grief and disbelief at the girl slumped in Kerowyn's arms. She looked unlike anyone he'd seen so far in his life and her clothing was of an unfamiliar cut and material. She was soaked to the skin and covered in mud. Rolan reached his neck back and nuzzled her boyishly short red-brown hair. Dirk felt anger rising in him. Rolan was Talia's Companion, not some child's! It wasn't right! It was-

:Chosen!: Ahrodie's mindvoice startled him out of his thoughts. :You know Rolan mourned Talia more than any except you. And you also know that as the Monarchs' Own's  Companion, he HAD to choose a new Monarchs' Own  as quickly as possible. He didn't have a choice, Dirk. And you know as well as I that now, he loves this girl. He's not replacing Talia. He's just gaining someone new. Dirk, if you died, so would I. But he can't. He has to live without someone who's been in his head for decades. Didn't you ever think he was upset too?: Dirk felt ashamed instantly. He had been thinking of only himself. That didn't make the pain of Rolan having a new Chosen any less harsh, though.

Just then, Elspeth's half brother, fifteen year old Prince Kris sprinted up behind Dirk.

"Who's this?" he asked, looking at the girl with a look of bewilderment on his face. Kero sighed.

"Kris, meet Rolan's Chosen, the new Monarchs' Own." Kris' eyes widened as he took the girl from Kerowyn.

"Should I take her to the Collegium?" Kris asked. Kero shook her head.

"Take her to Darkwind's and Elspeth's rooms," she said wearily. "I don't want everyone to know she's from another world. If your sister and her husband are going to explain this to her, I don't want them having to walk all over the Palace. They're unconscious from Gating Rolan to her." Kris nearly dropped her before complying with Kero's request. Elspeth and Darkwind were carried up to their rooms by two members of the Guard, as Gwena cantered off towards the Companion's Field. Dirk stared after the girl for a while before leaving with Ahrodie.