Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her pen swirled over the page in careful strokes, lines, curls, and dots coming together to form letters, then words. Concentration made her hand ache, but the satisfaction she felt with the pages and pages of beautiful script that filled the notebook made the hand cramp feel worthwhile. She smiled as the pen effortlessly ticked upward and began the loop that would form the next letter.

"Ooh look, Mel's practicing her fancy made-up language again!"

The pen jerked and an ugly jagged mark cut across the line. Melody Bernston swallowed and lifted the pen from the page, resisting the urge to slam the notebook shut against the prying eyes of her overly chipper coworker. She took a quick breath to try to steady her nerves, and then pushed her brown curls out of her face to shine a fake smile on the perky blonde with the too-wide blue eyes that put Mel's own green eyes to shame.

"Hey Jenna." Mel said, trying and failing to sound happy to see her.

Jenna didn't seem to mind though, her full lips spreading in a cherry red smile and fluttering her fake lashes weighed down with so much mascara Mel wondered how her lids continued to open. She put her elbows on Mel's desk and leaned over, insinuating herself into what little space Mel had in her cubicle. Mel gritted her teeth and refused to budge as Jenna's perfume stuffed itself down her nose and throat.

"Sooooo, whatcha writin'?" Jenna asked, drawing out the words in her high, squeaky voice.

It was supposed to sound cute. Mel thought she sounded like she'd been sucking helium.

"Nothing, just doodling."

Mel tried to tug the notebook closer, only to realize it was stuck under Jenna's elbow. She just smoothed the pages instead.

"Isn't this that tinker language?"

"Tengwar." Mel corrected automatically, then winced.

"Right, Tangware!" Jenna said, tittering happily and twirling a finger in her bleached curls, "That's the fairy language in those movies, right? It's so pretty, you should do calligraphy, my aunt does calligraphy and she makes loads of dough on wedding invitations…"

It's Tengwar, Mel thought as Jenna prattled on, Elves, not fairies, and it isn't a language, it's an alphabet. I could spell out, 'Jenna is an empty-headed busy body' and you'd think it was beautiful. Maybe I should try that next…

Mel immediately felt bad for her unkind thoughts. After all, it wasn't Jenna's fault that she didn't care. Jenna didn't care about the difference between language and alphabet, or Elves and fairies, didn't care that "those movies" made Mel laugh and cry each and every time she watched them. Jenna didn't care about the rich and complex history of a world that didn't exist. She didn't understand and she didn't care. And that wasn't her fault. It wasn't anyone's fault that Mel was an obsessed freak of nature.

But if not being a freak of nature meant rattling on in a high pitched clown voice about everything and nothing, then Mel would proudly proclaim herself a freak until the day she died.

"… oh, and Mr. Halliday asked me to let you know that he needs the Accounts Receivable paperwork, like, yesterday, so, you know, as soon as you get it ready…"

Jenna's babbling finally caught Mel's attention and she latched onto it like a lifeline.

"Oh god, I better get to work on it, I completely forgot!" she exclaimed, allowing some of her very real urgency to seep into her voice, hoping it would give Jenna the hint to hit the road.

"Well, you know, he always gets so worked up about this stuff, I mean, it's not like it's, you know, life and death or anything…"

"Seriously, Jenna, I haven't even started, I should really get to work." Mel said, trying very hard not to sound exasperated.

"Oh! Well, maybe I can help!" Jenna said, her huge eyes bright.

"No!" Mel said, maybe a little too quickly, "No, thanks, I just need to get working on it. Besides, shouldn't you be back at your desk? What if the phone rings?"

Jenna seemed to consider that for a moment, a frown puckering her lips and furrowing her brow.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. You'll be okay though, right? I'd hate for you to get in trouble."

Mel resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Jenna wouldn't give a rat's ass if Mel was fired tomorrow.

A few hours and one tedious Accounts Receivable spreadsheet later, Mel slung her bag over her shoulder and headed out into the crisp October air. The wind tossed her hair into her face, but the breeze smelled fresh and comforting, and Mel breathed deep to internalize the smell.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. No new messages, but the background photo made her smile, two identical teenage faces with tongues sticking out, hovered over by an older woman who looked as if she were about to fall over laughing any second. She thought about calling her mom, ask how the twins were liking they're first year of high school, see if the pumpkins grew in big enough to carve this year, but a gust of wind whistling in her ear made her think better of it and she stuffed the phone back in her bag. Maybe she would call when she got home.

It was just a twenty minute walk from the office to her apartment. On nice days like this one, Mel left her car and took the path through a small wooded area that might barely be called a park, if anybody were to bother. She liked the path, the way the trees closed in, muffling the noise and evidence of the outside world. If she stopped right in the middle between home and work, she could close her eyes and almost believe that she was back in the woods surrounding her folks' cabin, not a soul to be seen for miles around. Most of the time, she didn't miss it at all. She liked living in the city, liked the energy of thousands of people all humming around her. But some days, all she really wanted was to be in a place where she could just be her crazy, Lord of the Rings obsessed, self, with no one around to judge.

Today felt like one of those days. She propped herself up on a tree and dropped her bag on the ground by her feet. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. She felt a little chill through her red turtleneck, she wouldn't stay for long, but it was nice to just be for a while. She let her mind wander. Her job was fine, her apartment was fine, she really had nothing to complain about. But some days, like this one, she felt like she was drifting. She had never done anything that really mattered.

Her mom was at least a conservationist. She was one of those hippie types that recycled everything, grew her own food, and planted trees on Arbor Day. Mel couldn't even keep a houseplant alive.

And her dad… Well, her dad worked a lot. He was a prosecuting attorney for the state of Ohio, so he was constantly saving people's lives. At least, that's what Mel had always believed. Of course, she hadn't seen her dad in a few years, so it was hard to tell. But at least he was out there, doing something. Mel was in a dead end job going nowhere.

It wasn't even a job she particularly liked. She didn't hate it. God knows it was better than waitressing, but if it all went up tomorrow she wouldn't shed any tears. She hadn't even made any friends in the few years that she'd lived here. She was sure Jenna thought they were 'besties', but that was through no fault of Mel's. She kicked at the leaves under her feet, feeling pretty sorry for herself.

Maybe she was going through a quarter-life crisis.

God, that sounded so pretentious.

She kicked the leaves again and something pinged against a rock jutting out of the path. Mel crouched down and dug in the leaves for a minute, before she finally emerged with a shiny gold ring in her palm. It was small and delicate, a green stone set between two smaller crystals. Mel didn't want to get too far ahead of herself, but it looked like an emerald… with diamonds…

She turned the ring over in her hands, watching the stones catch the late afternoon light. Real or fake, it looked expensive. Mel looked around for any sign of the owner, but that was silly. There was no one else on the path, she would have heard them or seen them. She should probably take it to the police, someone was surely looking for it. She twirled it one more time, then slipped it on her right ring finger. It fit, but that was no big surprise, she had pretty average size hands. She had pretty average everything. She lifted her hand and let the light catch on the emerald. It was pretty, even on her average size hand.

A breeze blew through the trees and it sounded like they were whispering to each other. It made Mel smile.

Then she heard someone walking through the brush.

She whirled around, searching for the source of the noise. But something wasn't right. She wasn't where she had been before. She immediately rejected that idea. It was crazy. She was just turned around, that was all. That was why the trees looked different, why they seemed to be in different places.

The footsteps were getting closer.

Maybe whoever owned the ring was looking for it. That's why her heart felt like it was in her throat, she felt guilty for trying on the ring and now someone was looking for it. She wrapped her hand around it, thought about pulling it off.

But what if this wasn't the owner. How would she know? It was getting dark, she had spent more time in the woods than she'd meant to. What if she wasn't the only crazy person that enjoyed the cool evening breeze through the leaves? Not all crazy people were as harmless as she was. She lowered herself to the ground and reached behind her for her bag, hoping her pepper spray was still in that inner pocket…

She couldn't find her bag. She turned around, dug in the leaves, starting to feel the first tendrils of panic creep into her brain. Where was her bag? She was sure she'd had it when she left the office, she remembered specifically that she'd picked it up. She looked around frantically. Nothing seemed familiar anymore. The trees were different, the leaves were different, everything had changed.

She stood up, determined that she was going to run, she was going to run into the trees and keep running until she found a street or a sign or a house, anything to get her bearings back. The park wasn't that big, she was bound to run into something…

Her thoughts stopped short when the owner of the footsteps emerged into the golden light of the setting sun.

He was big, at least half a foot taller than she was, with broad shoulders and lots of fur and leather. And he looked like he'd been to hell and back. His clothes were muddy and torn, his long, dark hair tangled and damp. He had a small cut on his cheek that looked like it was barely healed. His eyes were intense as he stared at her, clearly just as surprised as she was. Mel felt like a doe caught in the headlights of a semi-truck, wide-eyed and gaping.

Then she got a good look at his clothes. Beneath all the mud, she could make out that there had once been blue and silver in there somewhere, and underneath…

He was wearing chainmail. Chainmail, for god's sake! And a freaking sword! Now that she was looking at him properly, she realized that he looked like one of those role players in those fantasy games they played in the big park downtown every third Saturday. Suddenly, she felt a little better. A role player. She'd been about to run scared from a freaking role player! God, she felt stupid.

She let out a relieved little giggle. At least she wasn't nearly as lost as this guy was.

"God, you scared me to death!" she said, a little breathlessly, "I think you've got the wrong day, dude, the players meet on Saturdays, and its downtown."

He stared at her, a perplexed expression on his face. He didn't say anything for another long moment. Mel started to feel a little uncomfortable. She wondered if his sword was real.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again.

"Forgive me, my lady…"

God, this guy is really into it …

"…but I fear that I do not fully understand your strange words. Are you a messenger from Lord Elrond sent as escort?"

Elrond? That made Mel's ears perk up. She didn't know that they did Lord of the Rings roleplay. Maybe she should check it out.

You know, on another day when she wasn't wondering whether or not she was lost, or crazy, or both.

"Look, I appreciate the dedication, really I do." She said, "But you can drop the act now and just admit that you're lost. It's okay, I walk through here every day and apparently I'm lost too."

The man's eyes narrowed and he quirked his head to the side, curiously.

"I am not lost." He said, "But if you often wander these lands then may I assume Imladris is your home? Perhaps we should walk together, since the light is nearly gone."

A breeze blew through the trees again and Mel jerked her head up. She could have sworn she heard voices whispering in the leaves. But there was nothing there of course, it was just the wind. She shivered and rubbed her arms through her sweater. Something wasn't right. Something was definitely… not right. Nothing about this place looked right at all and she just couldn't shake the feeling that somehow she wasn't in the same place she had been before. She wanted her bag. She wanted her phone. She wanted her mom.

There was a rustle and Mel squeaked and jumped back. The man froze in the act of taking a second step toward her, one hand at the clasp of his cloak at his throat. She swallowed and tried to remember how to breathe. He very slowly removed his hand from the clasp and put both his hands in the air, a gesture of surrender and peace.

"I am not going to hurt you, my lady." He said, his deep voice a soothing rumble, "On my honor as Captain of the White Tower, you are safe with me."

She didn't feel safe. She felt like she was having a break down. This guy wasn't dropping the act and the sword that still swung at his belt was making her more than a little nervous. She wondered for a brief second if it was sharp, then quickly decided that it didn't matter. This guy, whoever he was, was bigger than her, looked twice as strong as her, and was clearly in the middle of a psychotic break… or was that her? She wasn't entirely sure anymore.

"May I ask for your name?" he asked, his voice still soft and soothing.

"You first." Mel said, and then regretted the words almost as quickly.

His eyes narrowed and his hand lowered to rest gently on the pommel of his sword. Then he bowed.

"I am called Boromir, son of Denethor the ruling Steward of Gondor."

Her heart lurched and she felt a bolt of panic rip through her chest as the wind roared through the leaves. And then she remembered… right… Lord of the Rings player… And that was when she started to get angry.

"Look, I'm sure you think this is all really funny, or entertaining, or whatever, but I can promise you that it's not, okay? It's really, really not, so can you just cut the crap and tell me your real name, please?"

The man was staring at her with a hardened expression and she saw him tense. She tried not to flinch away.

Don 't let him know you're scared…

"I have given you my name, and yet I still wait to hear yours." The man-who-could-not-possibly-be-Boromir said, all softness gone from his tone, "Evil walks throughout all these lands, my lady, and caution is to be admired. But I stand before you with all the standards of my house and office, and you give me nothing but strange and angry words to speak for your own character. Of us two, I believe I might have the better reason for suspicion."

Something wasn't right, Mel didn't know what it was but something in the back of her mind was telling her over and over that something wasn't right. The leaves blew over her head and the branches creaked around her and she looked up. These trees weren't familiar to her, any of them. She didn't know where she was, but it wasn't the park. It wasn't her imagination or her fear, it was just plain fact. She knew the path between her apartment and her office and she was no longer on it. So where the hell was she?!

"Woman."

Mel's eyes jumped back to the man in front of her. His face was flat and emotionless as a stone, but his voice told her that he was getting annoyed. She looked at him, really looked at him. Strong, broad-shouldered, about six and half feet tall, dark brown hair framing a chiseled face and gray eyes that were boring into her with such an intensity that Mel almost flinched under them.

I stand before you with all the standards of my house and office …

Her eyes flicked down to the hand that rested on his sword. On his wrist was tied a leather vambrace, and etched on it was the White Tree of Gondor, the symbol of Minas Tirith. And hanging by the sword was a carved white horn with a silver inlaid tip.

On my honor as Captain of the White Tower …

Oh god…

"Woman, who are you?" He said, his voice hard and biting, "Do not try my patience; I have not much left to give."

"I…"

She couldn't breathe. Her lungs could not remember how to take in oxygen. She took a step back to try to get some space, to try to think… and tripped over a rock under her foot, going down hard on her back.

"My lady!" the-man-who-could-possibly-be-Boromir exclaimed, taking an involuntary step toward her.

"No, stay back, just stay back!" she shouted, scrambling through the fallen leaves until her back hit a tree trunk, her outstretched hand shaking as she warded him off.

He froze again, not coming any nearer.

"Are you alright?" he asked, sounding as if he wasn't sure whether to be concerned or suspicious.

"I just… I just need a minute… please…" she gasped, trying to catch her breath and still feeling like her lungs weren't working properly, "Please, I just… I don't know what's going on, just… I just want to go home."

She hated that her voice sounded so cracked and panicky and close to tears. She was stronger than this, damn it, she'd never been afraid of the unfamiliar before! She'd moved across the country on a whim for God's sake! More than once! She swallowed and closed her eyes, forcing air in and out until it started to feel natural again.

She didn't realize she was shivering until something soft, warm, and heavy fell over her. She jerked and her eyes flew open and Boromir took a hurried step back, his hands both outstretched in a sign of surrender.

"Forgive me, my lady. You seemed chilled."

He was missing his furred cloak and it took Mel a few seconds longer than it should have to realize that it was draped over her. It might have been blue once, but was now more of a dirty gray, and it smelled of dirt and leather and another smell that Mel could not quite identify, a green smell. It was also warm, very warm and Mel was cold, inside and out. She clutched the cloak to her almost involuntarily as the wind blew through the branches, sending the leaves into a murmuring chatter with each gust. Boromir (or not-Boromir, Mel still wasn't entirely convinced that she wasn't being played) remained where he was, his face calm and questioning, but no longer hostile.

"Tha… Thank you." She managed to stutter.

He nodded, but said no more, and did not move again. They stared at one another for a long moment, Mel still trying to wrap her mind around what could possibly be happening to her. Dreaming? Maybe she had been knocked out by a passing squirrel and she was having a very vivid dream. Or a hallucination, that was also possible, someone could have slipped something into her afternoon coffee at the office. Jen would probably think that was hilarious…

She shifted and winced. Her backside was definitely bruised and she definitely felt the pain radiating from it. So dream was less likely, but she wasn't yet ready to rule out hallucination. Could you feel pain in a hallucination?

"Please," she said, softly, carefully, "Can you tell me where I am?"

Boromir's face softened a bit and he lowered his hands slowly.

"You are in the foothills just west of the Misty Mountains," he said, "Near to the elven city of Imladris, the realm of Lord Elrond Half-elven."

Mel breathed in through her nose and noted the bite in the air. Her mind started to work without her permission, taking in the state of Boromir's clothes and the chill in the air and their location…

"Can you tell me the date?" she asked.

"Only if you will tell me your name."

She stared at him for a moment, speechless. He inclined his head, and his expression was firm if not hostile.

"I understand that you are lost and frightened, my lady," he said, "But I cannot help you if I know nothing about you."

She sighed. She didn't see any harm, even if a part of her still wondered if this weren't some sort of elaborate prank.

"Mel." She said and he raised an eyebrow, "My name is Melody Bernston. Most people just call me, Mel."

Boromir inclined his head graciously, "Well met, Lady Melody. The date is October the 24th."

She chewed on her lip absently. Well, at least the date was the same as she remembered, she supposed that counted for something. Her mind wandered to the timeline that she had nearly memorized, the date sparking a hint of familiarity. It was the day before…

Rivendell… Frodo… Council…

"How far did you say we are from Rivendell?" she asked.

Boromir's eyes narrowed and his expression hardened.

"I did not say."

Mel rolled her eyes just half a second before she thought better of it.

"I… Yes, technically I know that," she said, "Could you tell me how far away we are?"

"I know not." He answered, "I have never journeyed there myself. I only know to follow this road and I will be met on my way. Have you journeyed to the hidden valley, my lady?"

Mel stared at him, his voice stiff and suspicious again. What had she said to set him off now?

"No," she answered, "I don't… I don't know how I got here."

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she thought them through. Boromir's expression didn't falter.

"Where are you from, Lady Melody?" he asked.

Mel fought the hysteria that was threatening to bubble up her throat.

"No where you've ever heard of, believe me." She said.

"Tell me." He said, "I was born in the White City of Minas Tirith, tutored by the finest of scholars. There is not a land in Middle-Earth that I am not familiar with."

"Exactly." Mel said.

Boromir gave her a blank look.

"I don't understand," He said, "Explain."

Mel stared at him, wondering why she let her mouth run away with her. There was no version of this conversation that didn't sound completely ridiculous, even in her head. So in lieu of logical thought, she just plowed ahead, letting her words fall where they may. After all, hallucinations didn't care if she made sense, right?

"I'm not from any place in Middle-Earth." She said, "I don't even know what you would call where I'm from. I don't think it exists here. I was just taking a walk, minding my own business, I stopped for a second, and then I wasn't where I was before. I was here and you were there and I'm pretty sure I'm going crazy, so… yeah. That's the story."

Boromir stared at her, no expression on his face but puzzlement. He waited for a beat, as if to make sure she was done speaking, and then he nodded.

"I see," he said, "That does explain your strange speech and mode of dress."

Mode of…? What was wrong with her…? She pushed back the cloak that she was still huddled in and looked at her red turtleneck, blue jeans, and sneakers. She snorted.

"Yeah, I guess I do look a little ridiculous…"

She trailed off, and then stared up at the man, still studying her curiously.

"Wait, you believe me?"

Boromir came back from the far off place his mind had gone and met her eyes.

"Should I not?" he asked, "It is a strange circumstance, but these are strange times and we are in a strange land. Many believe this to be a place of magic, as old as the world itself. I do not often put stock in such tales, but… the circumstances that have brought me to this place have opened my mind to many possibilities that I might once have called folly. And you have an air of truth about you, that much I know. However mysterious you may appear, you are not lying."

Well, there was that at least. Mel let out a breath of relief. She had expected a little more argument honestly, even from a hallucination.

Boromir's eyes wandered off again as he thought, then he nodded decisively.

"I believe we should continue on to Rivendell," he said, "Lord Elrond will have better knowledge of such things than I, he will help you."

That made sense… you know, if you put aside the fact that Mel still wasn't completely convinced that she wasn't hallucinating. Of course, sitting in the middle of the woods, waiting to freeze or starve to death wasn't really high on her list of things to do today… or ever. And she'd never been one to sit and do nothing anyway.

Decided, Mel stood and brushed the dirt and leaves off Boromir's cloak before handing it back to him.

"Right, Rivendell." She said, "Let's go."

Boromir looked at the cloak in her hand, then back at her. Then he took it and, before Mel could even blink, he had flung it over her shoulders and clasped it at her throat.

"I hope you can forgive it's ragged condition, Lady Melody." he said, "It has seen me through much and it will keep you warm."

"Oh no, it's okay, I don't…"

But Boromir was already walking off, leaving her standing behind on the path, gaping like an idiot. She got herself together and hurried after him, scurrying along at his heels, secretly thankful for the warmth of the cloak. She rubbed the fur against her cheek. It was strangely comforting.

"I must confess, there is one aspect of your tale that bothers me." Boromir said as he walked.

"You mean besides basically everything?" Mel said, then cringed as she realized she was still just letting words fall from her mouth without thinking. Maybe it was a coping mechanism.

Boromir didn't even flinch.

"If you come from this other place, this place that does not exist, how did you know that Imladris and Rivendell were the same?"

Mel slammed to a stop, then realized that Boromir was still walking and jogged to catch up. Crap. This was it. The nail in her coffin, there was no way she could make this sound believable.

"There was a guy…" Mel said, cringing as she realize how completely ridiculous this was going to sound, "This man, his name was Tolkien. He wrote… stories. Stories about Middle-Earth, about Rivendell and Minas Tirith and…"

She bit her lip, stopping her mouth. There was only one place this conversation could go, and she didn't see anything good coming out of it, not knowing what she knew. She watched Boromir's back for a minute and saw his eyes in her mind's eye, hard and angry, soft and compassionate. She shook it away.

"Anyway, he wrote about a lot of things, but they were just stories. I read them. A lot. I've got most of it memorized actually. They're kind of a big deal, where I'm from."

Well, to some people… she added in her head, but did not speak aloud.

Boromir made a noise, not quite a hum, not quite a grunt.

"So you know of Middle-Earth, but you do not belong to it." He said, as if digesting the information, "Interesting. Perhaps this Tolkien has visited in the same manner as you and Lord Elrond knows of him. You might return in the same way he did."

Now that was a possibility Mel hadn't considered. She mulled it over in her mind. If Tolkien had been here, and this was where he'd gotten his stories, that would make for an interesting twist for sure…

Wait… when had she stopped treating this like a hallucination? It wasn't real, it was too crazy! She stared at Boromir's back in front of her, watching him move through the woods confidently, never faltering in his steps. He wasn't what she would have expected him to be. He was… kind. And smart. And actually a bit younger looking than she'd imagined, even knowing his bloodline and the slightly extended lifespan of his people. She had just… never been able to picture it properly before.

She didn't realize she was spinning the emerald ring around her finger until it caught on a thread of the cloak and pinched her skin. She jumped and stared down at it, surprised. She'd actually forgotten she was still wearing it. The wind brushed the tops of the trees, sending the leaves above into a hushed murmur. Mel could almost imagine that she heard a word, echoed in the wind, blowing away just before she could catch it…

Boromir stopped and Mel almost ran into him. The sun had set, leaving behind only a hint of pink and gold as the stars started to twinkle against the darkened horizon. Boromir glanced back at her and then reached out and took her elbow, easing her forward.

"Look, my lady," He said, "The place of tales, both yours and mine."

They stood upon a ridge looking down into a quiet little valley, white buildings half hidden in the forest, blending perfectly into the surroundings. As Mel watched, tiny lights began to blink on throughout the valley, flaring up and lighting the darkness that descended on the place, like tiny stars come to earth.

"Rivendell…" she whispered, feeling a hush fall over her, an almost reverent awe.

Boromir turned to her, and for the first time, he smiled. His eyes lit up with it, even in the dim light of dusk, and his entire expression changed. Mel felt her heart skip. Oh… He was… He was handsome. Oh, that was… that was bad. Mel could see absolutely no variation of this that was in any way good. She swallowed and took a step back, out of his reach, and he must have seen something in her face because his smile faltered and his expression reverted back to something akin to indifference.

"Come." He said.

He turned and began the descent into the valley and Mel had no choice but to follow.

Chapter Text

Rivendell was just as beautiful up close as it was from a distance, the lights twinkling from the windows in the night, the clear air fresh, the soothing sound of water in the background. Mel even met her first elf, a tall, elegant creature that greeted them at the gate. It was lovely and unreal, and of course, Mel chose that exact moment to have an anxiety attack and pass out.

Which made for a very interesting start to her morning, when she woke up in a bed and a room that she had absolutely no memory of. Panic clawed at her chest for an agonizing moment until she remembered… and then the panic was replaced with an odd sort of calm resignation. This wasn't a hallucination. Mel was almost completely sure that one did not fall asleep (or pass out), only to wake up and pick up the same hallucination right where it left off. She wasn't dreaming. This wasn't a figment of her imagination. This was real. She felt emptied of the fear she had held for her sanity. If she was insane, there was nothing else to do, but embrace it and hope for the best.

There was a soft knock on her door and Mel yanked the down comforter up to her chin, her eyes wide. There was a long pause. What should she do? Should she get up? Should she call out?

"My lady?" a gentle voice spoke as the door slowly opened.

A petite woman with long, blonde hair peeked into the room. No wait, not a woman… an elf. The elf-lady smiled when she saw her wide eyes and stepped inside, shutting the door gently behind her.

"Good morning, my lady." She said, dropping a small, graceful curtsy, "I am pleased to see that you are awake. Your friend will be glad to hear that you are recovering well."

Her friend? Mel's mind felt fuzzy and she tried very hard to think through the cobwebs of shock. What friend…? Boromir? Did she mean Boromir? Because Mel wasn't entirely sure if that particular acquaintance constituted friendship. She wasn't sure what it constituted exactly, but friend didn't sound like the right word.

The elf didn't seem to notice her confusion, instead gliding to a small wardrobe on the other side of the room and throwing open the doors.

"At the request of Lord Elrond, we had some things brought that might suit you, my lady. I understand that you're belongings have been lost."

Lost… yeah… that was one way of putting it.

The elf-maid pulled out a cream colored dress and laid it over the back of a chair.

"I've ordered a bath prepared, it should be waiting for you just through there," she pointed to a door just beyond the wardrobe, "If there is anything else you require, my lady…"

"Mel."

The elf-maid stopped, her serene expression furrowing for just a moment. Mel cringed.

"I'm not a lady," she said, and realized that sounded even worse, "I mean… Mel, that's my name, just please, call me Mel."

The elf tilted her head to the side in a puzzled expression. Then her face seemed to relax, as if she had realized something she should have known all along. She bowed her head graciously.

"Of course, Mel," she said, "Forgive me. I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

The second she heard her name on the elf's lips she relaxed and she realized that it had made her uncomfortable. There were too many unfamiliar things around her, too many things that she didn't understand. Her name was constant. Her name hadn't changed. It was one of the few things she had left now.

"Thank you." Mel said, and meant it.

The serene smile returned to the elf's face and she dropped another small curtsy.

"If there is anything else you require, please don't hesitate to ask. I will leave you for a moment, and let Lord Elrond and Lord Boromir know that you have awakened."

Before Mel could tell her not to bother Boromir, the elf was gone, closing the door almost soundlessly behind her. Mel bit her lip. Then she sighed and dragged herself out of the impossibly comfortable bed and toward the room that promised a bath.

She was not disappointed. A steaming tub of hot water and soap waited for her on the other side. She shucked her old clothes, dirty and torn from the trek through the woods yesterday, and eased her way into the water. She suddenly realized that, despite the fact that she managed to make it to the gym twice a week (most weeks), she was embarrassingly out of shape. She ached in places that hadn't ached since she was in middle school and she took that week-long hiking trip with her aunt and uncle through the Ozarks. But the water was soothing and the soap made her feel almost normal again.

When the water got cold she finally got out and dressed, running a brush through her damp hair as she padded barefoot back into the bedroom, hoping to find her sneakers.

A tall elf with brown hair that brushed past his shoulders and a circlet of gold on his head, rose to meet her. Mel froze in the middle of a brush stroke.

"Good morning, Mel." He said, a small smile on his smooth face, "My name is Lord Elrond. I trust you slept well."

Mel didn't speak for far too long. It took a lot of time to even realize that her hand was still poised in her hair, mid-brush-stroke, and she slowly lowered it to her side. Elrond… Lord Elrond… Lord of Imladris, son of Earendil, keeper of one of the Three elven rings of power… was standing in front of her… right in front of her… and he'd used her name! A feeling of unreality washed over her and she felt a bit like she was floating. She swallowed and tried to ground herself again. Lord Elrond had his hands clasped in front of him, the picture of perfect elven poise and patience, waiting for her to come back to the present. Right… words… she should say words…

"I… It's… I'm…"

Elrond raised an eyebrow, his smile widening almost infinitesimally. Mel blushed.

Yes, very articulate, your use of the English language continues to astound and amaze, Mel, well done …

"It's an honor to meet you, Lord Elrond," she said, finally managing to piece together a complete sentence, "I have heard so much about you, I hope you can forgive my lack of manners. I'm a little overwhelmed."

Elrond gestured to an empty chair across a small table from him and Mel managed to make it to the chair and sit without incident. She was very proud of herself in that moment. 'A little overwhelmed' was such an understatement of how she felt right then that it was nearly an outright lie. Elrond seated himself and he seemed so perfectly at ease that Mel felt more relaxed just by proximity… but only the tiniest bit.

"I have spoken to Lord Boromir about your… situation."

Mel sat up very straight, her mind racing. Her situation? What had Boromir told him? What did he think her situation was exactly? Elrond studied her face for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes, he tells some very strange tales. But he seems to think that you carry an air of truth to you and I see now what he meant. I don't believe you have it in you to be false, Mel. But your tale is one which begs many questions, very few of which have ready answers."

"Any answers would be appreciated." Mel said, "I have no idea what's happening."

Lord Elrond smiled. He had a kind face, old and young at the same time, and his eyes never betrayed any doubts or suspicion. All Mel saw was kindness.

"Why don't you start at the beginning?" He suggested, "Retelling the tale may recall details that might prove useful. And I would like to hear the events from your own lips."

Mel nodded. That made sense.

"There's not much to tell," She said, "I was walking through the woods, I got distracted, and then I… wasn't where I was supposed to be. That's when Boromir found me."

"Got distracted?" the elf-lord asked, his brow furrowing, "By what?"

"By…"

Mel paused, her hands frozen in her lap. She had been twirling the ring on her finger again, and she hadn't even realized it. She hadn't even remembered that she was wearing it. She felt a cold knot forming in her stomach. Of course… Why hadn't she thought of this before?

"Because it's insane!" she thought to herself.

Then again, this was all insane. She had been rescued by Boromir, slept in Rivendell, and was talking to an elf-lord. There was no part of this that wasn't completely insane. And really, considering what she knew about Middle-Earth and their history with unusual jewelry, she knew she shouldn't be so surprised.

Slowly, she lifted her hand and placed it flat on the table, letting the morning light dance off the emerald and set the gold glowing.

"I… I found this." She stuttered, "It was on the ground, it caught my eye. I was going to turn it in, try to find the owners, but then…"

Lord Elrond tilted his head and studied the ring for a moment, before he reached out tentatively.

"May I?"

Mel swallowed, and then nodded. The knot in her stomach started to flutter. He took her hand in his and examined the ring closely, turning her hand to better catch the light. His face was set in a mask of concentration and Mel saw a small ring glittering on his own hand, the deep blue stone in its center catching her eye. Her breath caught in her throat. Was that…? Was that Vilya? Was she seriously looking at the greatest of the Three Elven Rings of Power right now? Oh, there was so much she wanted to know, so many questions…

She was distracted. That was the only excuse that she had for what happened next, and even she knew that it was a poor excuse. But her mind was somewhere else, on Vilya, on the past, on her endless questions, and that's why she didn't notice until it was too late. Lord Elrond, intent on his examination of her own mysterious ring, put his fingers on the gold band and started to slip it off her finger. The knot in Mel's stomach clenched, and without thought or her mind's consent, she wrenched her hand from his grasp…

And slapped him. Hard.

"Oh my god!" Mel gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth in horror, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't…"

Lord Elrond held up a hand to stop her.

"No, no I should have known. I sensed the power, I just did not realize it had taken such a strong hold."

He touched his cheek absently. A red hand print was starting to develop and Mel thought she might just die from embarrassment. But a smile was playing at the corners of his lips, so at least he didn't seem angry.

"I believe your ring is of dwarven make, crafted either by dwarves or possibly for dwarves. There is an elegance in the design that isn't common in dwarven craft."

"For dwarves?" Mel asked, her heart suddenly racing, "Do you mean it could be one of the Seven?"

Seven for the dwarf-lords in their halls of stone …

Lord Elrond stared at her for a moment, but then he shook his head.

"Of course," he muttered, almost to himself, "Of course, I had forgotten. Lord Boromir did say that you had knowledge of us. No, my la… Mel, I don't believe so. The Seven are lost to us, taken by the Dark Lord or lost to dragons and time. There are none left and if there were, I would know it."

Mel nodded, her heart fluttering back into what might pass for a normal rhythm. She didn't want to think about what might happen if she'd somehow stumbled onto a ring of power. She was barely holding it together as it was!

Elrond sighed.

"It seems my house is destined to be host to many mysteries and wonders," He murmured.

Then he fixed her with a sharp gaze. Mel almost flinched away from it.

"What do you know of the events of the world, Mel?" he asked, "Tell me what you can."

This was a test. He was testing her knowledge, and Mel wasn't sure how honest she should be. But the dangerous glint in the elf-lord's eye made the decision for her.

"I know that there is a war coming." She said, "I know that Imladris is a stopping point and a beginning. I know that a council has been gathered and will meet today to decide the fate of the world. And I know that there is a hobbit here called Frodo Baggins and that he carries something… precious."

"Say it, Mel," He said, his eyes hard as stone, "Do not hide behind riddles, as brave Bilbo Baggins once did. Say it, and I will know you speak the truth."

Mel hesitated. Somehow it felt… wrong to say it out loud. She was scared, to be honest. But Lord Elrond had asked her. So she leaned forward and whispered.

"The One Ring."

Lord Elrond closed his eyes then and his face relaxed. He looked almost pained, sad and far away for a moment.

"I have uttered not a word of the council's purpose to anyone, not even my family. Only the wizard Gandalf and the hobbit Frodo Baggins have any knowledge of the council's true nature."

He opened his eyes and managed a small smile that Mel suspected was purely for her benefit.

"It seems that you have convinced me, Mel. I will help you try to understand what has happened to you as best I can."

"Thank you," Mel said, earnestly, "Really, I can't thank you enough."

He smiled and stood, and Mel stood with him.

"I think a wise first step would be to have you join us in council."

Mel nearly had to sit down again.

"What?"

"You clearly already have knowledge of the circumstances which have brought us together; I see no reason to hide it from you. And there will be many wise and learned people from many different places in attendance. Perhaps someone will have knowledge or insight into your situation."

This couldn't be happening. There was no way this was actually happening to her!

"You… You want me… to come to the council?"

Lord Elrond raised an amused eyebrow.

"If that agrees with you." He said.

"Yes!" Mel said, nearly shouting in her excitement, "Yes, definitely, I want, I mean, I'll be there!"

"Excellent." The elf-lord said, still looking amused, "Now, would you care for some breakfast. If the hobbits have not eaten it all of course, it is after nine in the morning and they are a… hungry… folk."

At the mention of food, Mel's stomach growled. Loudly. She put a hand over it and tried to hide a sheepish grin. She was starving.

"That… sounds like a great idea. Thank you."

"Come," He said, gesturing to the door, "I will show you the way."

"Just a sec!" she said, scampering toward the bed and digging in the bedding, then dropping to her hands and knees to search under the bed. Not finding what she was searching for, she stood up and put her hands on her hips, staring around the room, perplexed.

"Have you seen my shoes?" she asked, wiggling her bare toes against the cool hardwood of the floor.

Elrond raised another eyebrow at her and only then did Mel suddenly remember who she was talking to.

"Right, sorry." She said, turning away and pretending to look for her shoes in a far corner of the room to hide her embarrassment, "Of course you haven't. I'll just… um…"

"Might I suggest…?"

She turned back and saw a pair of plain cream slippers dangling from his fingers. Mel felt a slight twinge of disappointment, but quickly pushed it aside and smiled.

"Thank you." She said politely as she took the shoes and slipped them on, managing to make one last desperate sweep of the room for her missing footwear. No luck. She was going to have to ask that elf-woman who was in here earlier. Those were her favorite sneakers.

Elrond led Mel out of the room and into the sweeping halls and courtyards of Imladris. Mel tried to soak in every detail, every twist and turn, every piece of architecture, window, door and stairway, as they made their way toward the dining hall. Not only was she in awe of the detail and intricacy of everything around her, but she was also hoping to use some of these details as landmarks. Imladris was a big place, and while Mel was at least adequately capable of finding her way in the woods, using the sun and stars as guidance, indoors she was… a bit directionally challenged. If any of this stuck in her mind, she might at least be able to find her way back to her room. She hoped.

Elrond opened a large wooden door, and all thought of ever leaving fled Mel's mind as the most delicious smells washed over her. She closed her eyes and breathed deep before she stepped inside and took a look around the huge stone hall. It was long and surrounded by columns, with long tables lining the floor and a raised dais that was empty for now. A fire roared in a large corner hearth with benches and stools surrounding it, though they were also empty.

It must have been late, as Lord Elrond had said, for there were not many people around. Mostly elves, brown- and golden-haired alike, elegant and easily spotted, but there were also a few dwarves seated together at a table in the corner (as far from the elves as they could manage), a few Men dressed in rougher clothes and cloaks (but no Boromir, Mel noted), and two small, curly-headed children sitting side by side with heaping plates of food, large furry feet swinging…

Wait…

Suddenly, Mel was fighting the urge to put a hand over her mouth and squeal. Hobbits! Those were hobbits! They were so cute and little!

"Here is where I leave you, Mel."

Suddenly, Mel remembered who she was with and looked up. Lord Elrond was watching her with a smile and dancing eyes.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Mel asked, a nervous flutter in her gut.

"You must forgive me, but there are many things that I must see to before our… later appointment."

"Oh, right," Mel nodded, feeling silly, "Of course, sure, no apology necessary."

"Will you be alright on your own?" He asked, "No harm will come to you, but I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

A biscuit hit one of the hobbits in the face and they both burst into gales of laughter. Mel smiled.

"I'm sure I'll be fine." She said.

Lord Elrond gave the two hobbits a look of long-suffering fondness, before he shook his head and smiled too.

"Very well, I will see you again this afternoon. If you have trouble, simply ask for me."

Then Lord Elrond turned and left the hall, leaving Mel standing alone on the steps looking out over the tables of food. The hobbits were still snickering together, and Mel wondered… Did she dare? She decided that, of course she did, when would she get another opportunity to sit and have breakfast in the same room as hobbits?

Before she could second guess herself, she hurried down the steps and made her way across the hall, holding her head up and trying to act as if she knew exactly what she was doing. She sat quietly across the table from the hobbits, a few places further down, and grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit directly in front of her. Her stomach was rolling and she couldn't decide if it was nerves or hunger, but an apple would cure both.

She crunched into the red, juicy fruit and tried to get a better look at the little hobbits. It was easy to tell now that they weren't children. They were the right height and size, but there was a grown aspect to their faces, even underneath the easy playfulness, that spoke of adulthood. They were young, but certainly not children.

One of the hobbits, the smaller one with sharp features and a reddish cast to his curls, glanced up and caught her looking at them. Before Mel could drop her gaze and pretend she hadn't been staring, he grinned.

"Hey, you're not an elf!" he said.

The other hobbit backhanded his arm.

"Ow!"

"Don't be rude." He whispered, before he threw her a charming smile, "Don't mind my cousin. He just let's his mouth fly off the handle sometimes. I'm Meriadoc Brandybuck and this," He ruffled his cousin's hair, "is Peregrin Took. And you are?"

Mel was momentarily speechless, but she tried to recover quickly.

"Mel," she said, "My name is Mel. Merry and Pippin, it's so nice to meet you."

Both of them gave her a surprised look, and then exchanged a look between them, before turning back to her. Pippin leaned over the table and whispered.

"Are you a wizard?"

Mel jerked back, thrown completely off balance.

"Sorry, what? No, of course not, why would you think that?"

"How did you know I go by Pippin?"

Crap. Mel scrambled trying to think of some way to recover her blunder.

"Well, I… um… I've just heard some rumors, you know whispers, warnings, of two hobbits running around Rivendell causing all sorts of trouble, Meriadoc also known as Merry and Peregrin also known as Pippin. We've all been warned to watch out for you two, you know."

She glanced around the immediate vicinity and caught the puzzled gaze of an elf with long blonde hair, but he quickly went back to his bowl when she met his eyes. She thought she caught the hint of a smirk on his face, but it didn't matter because the two hobbits were not only fooled by her terrible fib, they were beside themselves with excitement.

"Did you hear that, Merry?" Pippin squeaked, tugging repeatedly on his cousin's sleeve, "Did you hear that? We're famous! We're probably the most famous hobbits East of Buckland!"

"I'm sure you will be." Mel said, smiling.

"This calls for a celebration, I think." Said Merry, a little twinkle in his eye.

"What do you propose, dear cousin?" Pippin asked, that same twinkle gleaming in his own eye.

Mel tried not to think about the trouble she might have just started. Instead, she decided to take a chance on the porridge and scooped a little bit into a bowl. She tasted it and realized it was sweet and warm and she was probably going to want seconds.

She looked up. The blonde elf was looking at her again, a smirk definitely on his face now. He flicked his eyes to the two hobbits, still chattering excitedly (something about the mysterious disappearance of spoons from the kitchen and Mel winced feeling sorry for the elves that would have to corral them eventually), and then looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. Mel ducked her head and concentrated on her porridge. It wasn't really her fault… Well… okay, maybe a little, but there wasn't much she could do about it now!

Apparently decided, the two hobbits jumped out of the their seats and raced halfway down the hall before they both seemed to remember their manners and executed a rapid and synchronized turn mid-stride, bowing deeply to her.

"Good morning, Miss Mel, I hope we meet again soon!" Pippin shouted, Merry echoing the sentiment, and then they both ran out without waiting for an answer from her.

Mel sat staring after them in befuddled amusement, a spoonful of porridge halfway to her lips.

"And so came about the destruction of the Last Homely House, West of the Sea." A smooth voice said in a low, amused tone.

Mel jumped and looked up. The blonde elf had risen and was standing across from her, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter, a smile tugging on his lips.

"I don't think you know what danger you have wrought upon our host, my lady," He said, his smile widening, "I have heard tell that hobbits are crafty creatures, and the only one I have ever met proved far more troublesome than any could have guessed."

Mel opened her mouth to reply, but found that she had no words. How was she supposed to explain herself? She closed it again. The elf's smile softened a touch and he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Forgive me, we have not been formally introduced. My name is Legolas. Like you, I am a visitor in Lord Elrond's house."

Mel heard very little beyond the name Legolas. Her mouth went dry and she was sure that all color left her face. She swallowed and tried not to lose the little bit of breakfast she'd managed to get down.

He indicated the seat across from her.

"May I join you?"

Mel forced herself to breathe and then to smile.

"I would be honored, your majesty."

That puzzled look flashed in his eyes again, but his smile widened as he took a seat on the bench.

"Ah, I see my reputation precedes me as well." He said, flicking his eyes to the door where the hobbits had disappeared.

"Only good things, I promise." She said, her smile relaxing a little, "You're the Prince of Mirkwood."

She wondered if she'd gone to far, if she should have pretended ignorance, but it was too late now.

"And you?" Legolas said, his blue eyes piercing her from across the table, "I gather you are not from Imladris."

"No," Mel said, stirring her porridge absently, "Forgive me, you've introduced yourself, but I've forgotten my manners. My name is Mel. You've come a very long way. Have you been here before?"

Legolas quirked his head to the side, a smile still playing on his lips. He didn't pretend not to notice her deflection (it was written all over his face), but he didn't press her either.

"Yes, a few times. My father is not one for traveling much beyond our realm, especially in these troubling times, but there have been occasions when exceptions have been made. When Lord Elrond's call came to us and we heard that the dwarves of Erebor were also sending an envoy West, I… or rather, my father… decided it would be worth the journey."

Mel noticed the slip in his tone when he mentioned his father, the hint of a bitter flavor, but she decided he deserved the same courtesy he had shown her, so she didn't mention it.

"I would be pleased to show you a few of the beauties of Imladris, Lady Mel, if you would allow me." He said, "The first time in such a wondrous place can often be overwhelming."

Mel panicked a little bit. Legolas seemed very nice, but he also seemed very perceptive, and while he had been all smiles and politeness so far, it was only a matter of time before he started pushing for explanations that she wasn't sure she could give. Mel had only avoided the hobbits' curiosity through pure luck, and she knew that wouldn't work with the elf.

"Oh, I would never wish to impose…" she said quickly, but Legolas raised a hand to silence her before she had even begun.

"I will hear no polite protests or false excuses, Lady Mel." He said in a firm, but playful tone, "You need a guide, and my morning is free of any obligations. Unless you have pressing business elsewhere, the matter is settled."

Mel opened her mouth and then closed it again. She was starting to do that so often that she was afraid she might be turning into a gaping fish. Why? Why was Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood, offering to play tour guide to her? She had a feeling it wasn't just because he was a nice guy. Not that she didn't think he was a nice guy, but he wasn't stupid either, and she'd already made some pretty big mistakes with her mouth this morning. His interest was piqued. It was only a matter of time before he got suspicious. And Mel wasn't sure how much trust she should give him.

She took a breath and managed to force words out of her mouth.

"Alright, but I have one condition."

A corner of the prince's mouth twitched up in amusement.

"Yes?"

"Don't call me Lady. It's just Mel."

His smile widened and he inclined his head to her.

"Very well… Mel."

He stood and gestured toward the large wooden doors at the end of the hall.

"Shall we?"

Suppressing a sigh of resignation, Mel dropped her spoon and stood to join him. He took her arm when they reached the steps, linked it through his, and began to speak about the architecture of the elves as they left the dining hall.

Chapter Text

"And here we are!" Legolas proclaimed, throwing open a pair of ornately carved double doors.

Mel squinted as the noonday sun flooded the dim hallway, momentarily blinding her. Legolas took her elbow and led her out onto a stone balcony. When her eyes adjusted, she gasped and ran to the railing to gape at the view. The colors of the valley, green and gold and orange and cream, were so perfect that it was almost as if someone had painted them on the landscape. It was impossible to tell where the city ended and the valley began. The sun glinted off the towers and sparkled on the waterfall that crashed out of the cliffs, sending rainbows of color swirling in the air.

Legolas joined her at the railing and swept out an arm dramatically.

"From here you can see all of Rivendell. It is one of the loveliest views west of the Misty Mountains."

"I notice that doesn't include Mirkwood." Mel said with a smirk at him.

Legolas grinned down at her.

"Ah, I see you have found me out." he said in a mockery of guilt, "I confess of all the kingdoms of the Eldar, I find I think often that mine is best. Of course, some might say I am not an objective observer. They are, of course, mistaken."

"Of course." Mel said dryly, rolling her eyes, "Naturally."

She liked Legolas. He had spent the morning with her, taking her through different rooms and courtyards, telling stories about this statue, and that painting. And he had never once made her feel any pressure to say anything. He had not questioned her about anything that had happened at the breakfast table. He had not even mentioned it. They had just spent a lovely morning together. Mel had enjoyed it, but it made her nervous too. Why was he doing this? There must be some motive, some reason. It was driving her crazy. Because she liked Legolas. She wanted to continue to like him. And she couldn't do that if she couldn't trust him.

"Legolas?" she asked, looked up at him, "Why haven't you said anything?"

He looked down at her, his blue eyes twinkling, a smile twitching at his lips.

"About what, Mel?" he asked with a faux-innocence that was almost insulting in its transparency.

"You heard me talking to the hobbits." She said, "And you aren't stupid. You know I made up that stuff about the rumors. But you haven't asked me about it once. Or anything about me. I know you've wanted to, you've hinted around a couple of times, but it's been pretty easy to blow off your attempts so far. You're not trying to hide your curiosity, either that or everything I thought I knew about elves and their unreadable expressions is a lie. But you're…"

She paused, not sure how to explain how she felt.

"I don't need to know anything more than what you wish to divulge to me, Mel." Legolas said, his face turned back toward the view.

A breeze tossed his smooth blonde hair for a moment, then quieted again.

"I know that Lord Elrond would not have allowed you to remain here if he thought you were a danger." He said, "I know that you have secrets. Everyone does. Those secrets are revealed in their own time, to those which have a right or a need to know them. I wished to spend time with you because you intrigued me, it's true." He said, turning his blue eyes back to her, "But I did not seek you out to deceive you, nor will I ever manipulate you in order to divulge your secrets. If you should ever choose to share anything with me, I will never betray your trust. Until such time, however, I am content with the knowledge that you are a kind young woman, intelligent and prone to laughter, and that I enjoy your company, as I hope you have enjoyed mine."

Mel stared up at him for a moment, once again rendered speechless. Well… Alright then. That settled that.

"Thank you." She said, and it seemed completely inadequate.

But Legolas smiled brightly at her as if she had said exactly the right thing. Mel smiled back. Yep, she liked Legolas.

He glanced up into the sky, and then furrowed his brow.

"Oh my, I didn't realize it had grown so late." He murmured.

Mel smiled and waved him off.

"I think I'm going to sit out here for a while," she said, waving at a stone bench overlooking the view, "You go. I'm sure you have a lot of things to do."

The elf-prince seemed conflicted for a moment, then he sighed.

"I do have certain things to attend to, and there is a… meeting, this afternoon…"

"I know." Mel said, enjoying watching his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "I'll be there. Lord Elrond has requested my presence."

"Then I would ask that you take a seat at my side, if it pleases you."

"It would please me very much, thank you." Mel answered, a little surprised, but not very. It was a very Legolas-like thing for him to do.

The elf-prince smiled, then took her hand and bowed.

"Until we meet again, Mel." He said, before he turned and glided away.

Mel watched him go with a little bit of jealousy. Elves were so graceful. It really wasn't fair.

She sighed and sat on the bench, closing her eyes and letting the murmur of the waterfall and the wind through the trees seep through her skin and into her bones. It was peaceful here, but the quiet only served to remind her that this wasn't home. There were no car alarms, no slamming apartment doors, no police sirens. Just the wind, and the trees, and the water. And it felt lonely.

She thought she'd be used to loneliness. She'd been living on her own, hundreds of miles from her family, for years. But this… this was different. No matter where she had gone, no matter how alone she had felt, her mother had always been just a phone call away. Her sisters had always been just a text message away. Now… Now there was just…

A door banged open close by and Mel jumped, her eyes flying open and her thoughts scattering. Boromir strode out onto the balcony and gripped the stone railing, leaning heavily on it, his head bowed. Mel watched for an impossibly long time as his shoulders rose and fell in long, deep breaths. He was upset. Mel felt a little guilty watching him. He clearly had no idea she was here. Should she say something? Should she leave? Before she could decide, he straightened his back and turned as if to go back inside. He caught sight of her and she could see that he was startled and probably embarrassed as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Forgive me, Lady Melody, I did not know you were there."

"I know," she said, and cringed, "I mean, I saw you and I was going to leave, but I just… sorry, I guess I should…"

She started to stand, but Boromir waved her back down.

"No, please, don't go on my account." He said.

Mel sat. There was an awkward silence. Then she slid over on her bench a bit and patted the stone beside her.

"Wanna sit?"

He relaxed minutely and took the offered seat, leaning back and sighing almost inaudibly.

"I am glad that you are recovering from your ordeal yesterday." He said, "Lord Elrond tells me that there appear to be no side effects of your… unusual journey."

"Thank you," Mel said, "I feel fine. Well, other than the fact that I have no idea what's going on and I feel like I might be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But yeah, I'm fine."

Another awkward silence. Mel stared down at her lap. She was twirling that stupid ring again and she fisted her hands in her skirt to stop.

"How are you enjoying Imladris, Lady Melody?"

"You don't have to do that." She said, looking up at him, "Call me 'Lady Melody'. We both know I'm not a proper lady and Mel is just fine."

"Melody is a lovely name," Boromir replied, staring out across the valley, "It rolls pleasantly off the tongue. And I think it suits you."

Mel rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

"Okay, fine, but drop the 'Lady' bit. It's too much."

He nodded once in acquiescence.

"As you wish, Melody. Now tell me, what do you think of Rivendell?"

Mel looked out over the peaceful hidden valley.

"It's more beautiful than I could have ever imagined," she murmured, but that pang of loneliness struck her again, "But… This is gonna sound weird… It's almost too peaceful. There aren't a lot of people. I like being around people."

"Then you would love Minas Tirith," Boromir said, confidently, "There are many people of all different histories and places living there. It is always bustling and buzzing with life. And when you look out across Gondor from the watch towers as the sun sets…"

He trailed off, searching for words and Mel stared at him, mesmerized by his voice and his face, both transformed with passion and longing and desperation as he spoke about his home.

"It is one of the greatest sights of Middle-Earth." He said finally, sounding disappointed by his lack of eloquence.

Mel sighed and felt a little of his longing seep into her.

"I would love to see it." She said.

Boromir looked over at her and smiled.

"Perhaps one day I will take you. It would be a privilege to show you my home."

Mel felt her heart race with the possibility, but she stomped that hope down. She smiled at him, trying not to let her disappointment show.

"That's very kind of you, Boromir, but I don't think that will be possible."

For so many reasons …

Boromir's face fell, but he quickly masked it with an indifferent expression. His gaze returned to the valley.

"Lord Elrond is very wise," He said, his voice carefully neutral, "If anyone can get you back to your home, I'm sure it is he."

"He's agreed to try to help me." Mel said, her eyes back in her lap again.

There was another awkward silence. Mel fidgeted. She felt… bad. Disappointed. Like she was giving something up. She glanced back at the view, at Rivendell, and imagined gazing at a thousand different other views, Lothlorien, Rohan, the Glittering Caves, Mirkwood…

Minas Tirith…

"I'll miss it." She whispered, and immediately felt guilty for it.

"What?"

Boromir was staring at her, his gray eyes boring into her as if hoping he could peel away her skin and read her thoughts underneath. She ducked her head and let her fingers twirl her ring.

"This… This is my dream. A place I never imagined actually existed, and now I'm here and it's just… I'm going to miss so much. It's a shame, that's all."

Boromir stared at her for a moment, she could feel his eyes on her. Then he sat back on the bench and sighed.

"Then don't go."

Mel jerked and stared up at him. How could he…? Oh… Because he didn't… He didn't know. He could never know.

"I can't." Mel said, her voice coming out hoarse.

She cleared her throat and tried again.

"I can't, Boromir. The man who wrote about this place… He wrote history. I can't stay, there's too much at risk if I do."

Mel wasn't stupid. She didn't want Boromir to die. Even before she had met him and he had sort of rescued her, hell before she had even known he was real, Mel hadn't wanted him to die. And if she stayed, she wasn't completely sure she could be selfless enough to let him go without some kind of intervention. Without feeling like some kind of monster, sending a man off blindly to his death.

"It is your life," Boromir said with conviction "If Middle-Earth pleases you then you should remain."

"It's not about me." Mel said, standing up and moving to the railing, leaning over the side and letting the breeze blow her hair, "It's not about my life, it's about…"

…your life…

"…the hundreds of other lives that are at stake. There's so much that can go wrong, Boromir." She said, "And I don't belong in it. No matter how much I know, no matter what I feel, there's no place for me here."

"You don't know that," he said gently, rising and joining her at the balcony, his shoulder almost touching hers, "You have barely been here one day. With time you could learn…"

"The longer I stay, the more likely I am to get comfortable," Mel said, keeping her eyes fixed resolutely on the valley below, "I'll start to say things, things will slip. Even the littlest things could spell disaster. I could seriously screw up the history of your world!"

"Maybe that is what you are meant to do."

Mel froze, not daring to look up at him. The idea was dangerous. Tempting.

"I do not believe that it can be mere coincidence that you are here, Melody. It cannot be, especially now, when such desperation and fear is upon us. There is something you are meant to do. But you will not find it unless you remain to search it out."

There was a niggling bit of truth in what he said, Mel had to admit. It couldn't be a coincidence, a freak accident. Things like this didn't just happen for no reason. There was something more going on and Mel might never know. Maybe… maybe it was fate. Maybe she was meant to stay.

But she shoved the feeling away. She needed to go home. Her mom and her sisters would be worried about her. She had to get home.

She looked up at Boromir… and she saw. She saw him at Amon-Hen. She could see it so clearly in her mind, desperation creasing his features, sweat dripping down his dirt-streaked face, his sword swinging in wild arcs as he fought to keep Merry and Pippin safe, the screams of the orcs as they fell around him. She could almost imagine she smelled their stink tainting the clear air around them. She saw the tall Uruk-hai as he stalked down the hill, bow in hand. She saw the black feathered arrows. She saw them bury themselves in Boromir's chest. She saw him lying on the ground, dying.

A tear escaped the corner of her eye and she turned away from the Boromir in the present, swiping the revealing tear away angrily. She couldn't stay. If she did she might change it, and she couldn't do that. That was the fate of this world. It was supposed to happen.

"I'm sorry, but you really don't understand." Mel said, turning back to him with a watery smile, "I can't stay."

Then she turned and she ran, ignoring Boromir's voice when he called her name, asked her to wait. She couldn't.

She couldn't.

Chapter Text

It took several blurry turns, down several unfamiliar hallways, for Mel to admit that running out on Boromir might not have been her most brilliant idea. She had been upset (still was), but that was no reason to leave him with no explanation. He had rescued her in the woods when she was friendless and scared, and had shown her more kindness and patience than she had probably deserved. She owed him at least a little courtesy.

Not to mention she was now thoroughly and completely lost.

She took another turn into an unfamiliar, empty hallway and stopped, pressing her back to the wall and closing her eyes to stop tears of frustration and humiliation from escaping. She was so stupid! If there truly was some sort of greater purpose behind her appearance here, clearly there had been some sort of a mix-up or misunderstanding along the way. No Higher Power in their right mind could possibly consider her useful, especially not the way she was acting right now.

She took a deep breath and tried to think. Lord Elrond had said that he wanted her to attend the council this afternoon. She had spent her morning with Legolas, touring the house. The sun had been far overhead when she had been sitting with Boromir. She needed to find the council room. If she missed the opportunity to witness one of the most important moments in Middle-Earth's history…

Voices echoed around the far corner of the hall. Mel froze and listened.

"…telling ya, they'll not listen to reason!" a gruff voice grumbled, "Can't trust these pointy-eared tree-lovers, you mark my words!"

"We've got no choice, son." Said another voice, older, but still gruff and with the same brogue, "The king has sent us to deliver the message and so we…"

The voices trailed off, becoming more muffled by the second. Mel sprang into action, sprinting lightly down the hallway and peeking around the corner. No one was there. But there was another hallway that branched off and the echoes of the voices followed. Mel tiptoed down the deserted hall and glanced around the next corner. Two short, stout creatures with long, course hair (one white, one a fiery red) turned left into an open courtyard and disappeared. Mel smiled. She couldn't imagine there were that many dwarves at the Last Homely House. She slipped down the hall and turned to follow Gimli and his father Gloin, hardly believing her luck. Maybe there was something to this Fate and Higher Power talk after all.

They twisted and turned through the halls (some of which Mel was certain she had already passed), and finally the path opened up into the beautiful terrace where the council was to be held. She had stayed far enough behind to escape notice from the dwarves, but when she walked in after them Legolas' sharp eyes found her immediately and he stood, lifting a hand to wave her over. Mel smiled and took the offered seat next to him.

"I see that you found your way without too much trouble," he said, leaning over and murmuring in her ear, "Though it is a bit unfair to take advantage of those with lesser intelligence, Mel. I would never have expected it of you."

Mel looked over and saw the twinkle in his eye as he smiled at her. She nudged him playfully with her elbow.

"Don't be silly, Legolas," she said, flicking a glance at the dwarves who were conversing in whispers punctuated by suspicious glances, "I wasn't taking advantage, I was utilizing my resources. All things have their uses."

His grin widened and he inclined his head.

"Well said, my friend." He said.

Mel jerked and stared at him, pleasantly shocked. Was that just a common term for those who are not your enemy? Or were they really…?

All thought fled when Boromir walked in. Their eyes met across the stone courtyard and he jerked to a stop, surprised. He held her gaze for several moments, searching her face, as if trying to ask a question of her with only his expression. Mel had a flash of false memory, of seeing the life in his eyes go out, and she looked away before he could see that she was upset. A sick knot twisted her stomach and she gripped the edge of her chair to keep from squirming.

"Mel?"

She sucked in a breath and looked at Legolas. He was just on the verge of touching her, his hand hovering in the air over her shoulder, his eyes swimming with concern.

"Mel, are you well?" He asked, "You've gone rather pale."

She forced another breath through her nose and a smile onto her face.

"Yeah," she said, "Yeah, I'm okay. Just… You know what, it's nothing. Not important."

It was the worst lie she had ever told and Legolas wasn't stupid. But true to his word, he didn't press her, though his eyes still betrayed his concern. She was grateful for it.

She forced herself to look up, to face this thing that she was allowing to continue, but Boromir had already moved, crossing the room and taking a seat, brooding into the middle distance. He did not meet her eyes again.

Elrond swept in, gave Mel the most infinitesimal of nods, and without preamble began the council. Mel took a moment to survey those that had gathered, mostly elves that she couldn't identify. There were of course the two dwarves and a few men (including Boromir), but Mel couldn't be really sure which was Aragorn. She knew he was here, but picking him out of the unidentified men was guesswork and Mel didn't feel very confident in her skills at the moment. There was also an old man, dressed all in gray… seated next to a boy. A small boy, his feet swinging off the edge of his seat nervously, his eyes downcast…

"Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

The hobbit jumped, staring around the council room as if he wasn't quite sure of the wisdom of Elrond's command. But he reluctantly did as he was bid, sliding to the ground and reaching into his pocket as he approached the pedestal in the center of the terrace. The wind gusted through the trees surrounding the court, sending the leaves fluttering down around them in whispering mutters of uneasy sound. Frodo reached out and set down a little gold object. And then he retreated, settling into his chair with a sigh. Mel watched him carefully, knowing what a burden it had already put on him… and how much more it would take.

"So it is true…" Boromir whispered.

Mel's eyes snapped to him, but he did not look at her. He had eyes only for that little bit of gold that gleamed against the setting sun. Absently, Mel's fingers twisted the ring on her hand.

I know you, Calenhiril …

The voice whispered, almost slithering into her thoughts and Mel jumped, dropping her hands and staring at the pedestal. Calenhiril? What did that mean? Was it a name? What did it have to do with her?

I know of your purpose … your destiny… your fear… There is no hope for those that have already been lost… There is none left who can save them…

Mel's heart jumped and her eyes flew to Boromir, fear clutching at her throat. He was staring at her, his gaze intense, unnerving, fearful. Mel swallowed. What did the voice whisper in his ear? Why was he afraid? And why was he looking at her?

With what seemed to be a vast amount of effort, Boromir tore his gaze from hers and stood.

"In a dream…" he said, "…I saw the eastern sky grow dark. But in the west a pale light lingered. A voice was crying, 'Your doom is near at hand. Isildur's Bane is found.'"

He started to approach the ring, and Mel tensed.

"Isildur's Bane…" he murmured, his finger hovering over the golden band.

No. This couldn't happen. He was too good, too kind, too noble. Mel would not allow this! She shot to her feet without thought, just as Elrond leaped to his, both yelling in unison, Elrond warning, Mel pleading.

"Boromir!"

"Ash nazg durbatulûk…" the man in gray, Gandalf of course, began reciting.

Mel fell back into her chair gasping as the air turned heavy in her lungs.

"Ash nazg gimbatul…"

The sky turned dark in an instant and thunder rolled over their heads. Mel saw Legolas flinch beside her, and impulsively she grabbed his hand. He gripped her fingers and held on tightly.

"Ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul…"

As Gandalf finished, the sky lightened again and Mel heard a bird chirp overhead. Everything else was silent. She took a deep shuddering breath and looked at Legolas. His eyes remained closed a moment longer, taking deep breaths as though to steady himself. Mel leaned over and whispered close to his ear.

"Are you okay?"

She wished her voice wasn't shaking. Legolas opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"Yes, thank you. Are you?"

Mel nodded. Then she realized she was still holding his hand. She let go and put her hands in her lap

"Sorry." She said, feeling a blush creeping into her cheeks.

Legolas reached out and touched the back of her hand, brushing it with his finger tips.

"There is no need to apologize for kindness. It was comforting to have a friend."

A friend… That was the second time today that Legolas had called her a friend. She looked up, searching his eyes, and wondered if he really meant it.

"Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris!"

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond," Gandalf replied, sounding as weak and drained as he looked, "For the Black Speech of Mordor may still be heard in every corner of the West!"

He glared at Boromir.

"The Ring is altogether evil!"

Boromir was already shaking his head before the wizard even sat down.

"No, it is a gift!" He said, whirling to face the other members of the Council, "A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this ring?"

Mel closed her eyes, silently pleading, stop, stop, please stop, even though she knew that her pleas would go unanswered.

"Give Gondor the weapon of the Enemy! Let us use it against him!"

"You cannot wield it; none of us can!"

Mel's eyes flew open and she searched for that voice. She found it in a man sitting across the room, his long hair and scruffy appearance disguising his heritage perfectly. Mel would never have guessed…

"The Ring answers to Sauron alone," Aragorn said, "It has no other master!"

"And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" Boromir sneered.

Mel barely knew the man, but it was all she could do not to get out of her chair and slap that look off his face. This wasn't the man who had led her out of the woods… or maybe it was. Maybe she had been blind. Maybe…

"This is no mere Ranger!" Legolas exclaimed, leaping to his feet, "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

It was the exact wrong thing to say, and Mel knew it.

"Aragorn?" Boromir said skeptically, "This is Isildur's heir?"

He looked at Mel, met her eyes, asked for contradiction. Contradiction that Mel couldn't give him. When she met his eyes and did not refute the claim, he cast his eyes down and scowled. There was nothing she could do. Nothing…

"And heir to the throne of Gondor!" Legolas said, triumphant.

"Havo dad, Legolas." Aragorn said, raising a hand, pleading.

Legolas looked as if he might protest. Despite her own knowledge, Mel reached out and tugged his sleeve. He looked back at her and she shook her head ever so slightly, tugging his sleeve again. He stared at her curiously, but surprisingly did as she silently asked and sat. She smiled at him gratefully.

"Gondor has no king."

She looked up into burning eyes, eyes that flashed like a lightning storm, eyes that were staring directly at her.

"Gondor needs no king."

Mel managed to hold his stare steadily, even though all she wanted to do was flinch away. She wasn't trying to be aggressive, she wasn't trying to push him away, but it certainly wasn't her fault that this scruffy Ranger of the North just happened to have the correct bloodline to rule the kingdom Boromir had been raised to love and protect. And she certainly wasn't going to back down just to repair his damaged ego. He could forget it.

She flicked her eyes to his seat and then back to him. This startled him and he raised his eyebrows at her, but (again, surprisingly) did as she silently asked, sitting down and then made a small bow of his head in her direction. Mel didn't know how to respond to that.

"Aragorn is right," Gandalf said, and Mel was grateful for the excuse to put her eyes elsewhere, "We cannot use it."

Oh… right… Ring… that was a big deal…

"You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed."

The tension in the room was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. Or a sword. Whichever was handy.

"What are we waiting for?"

The red-bearded dwarf leapt to his feet and charged the pedestal, axe raised over his head.

"Gimli!" Mel shouted, coming to her feet despite herself.

The axe hit the Ring with all the might of a dwarf behind it. There was a resounding clang and an exploding boom. Mel covered her ears and cried out, the sound seeming to echo in her mind as well as her ears. Gimli hit the floor on his back, the remnants of his shattered axe all around him. He stared up for a moment, stunned. And then he turned a suspicious glare on Mel. Mel straightened, trying to think of something she could say, but nothing came to her. Before either could speak, Lord Elrond saved her, a knowing smirk on his ageless face.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft we here possess."

Legolas gently touched Mel's wrist and she realized she was still standing. She allowed the elf to tug her down into her seat again, as she had done for him not two minutes ago, meeting his puzzled gaze with an unsteady smile.

"The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom," Lord Elrond said, "Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from which it came. One of you must do this."

And then… there was silence. You could have a heard someone drop a pin a mile away that's how quiet it was.

"One does not just simply walk into Mordor." Boromir said.

Oh ye of little faith… Mel thought, smiling despite herself.

"Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. And the great Eye is ever watchful. It's a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume."

The smile was gone, replaced by a chill that ran down Mel's spine. It was creepy enough in the book and in the movie, but to have it described like that by a real person was enough to give her nightmares for the rest of her life. And to make it worse, he kept looking at her, as if begging her to talk some sense into these people.

"Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly!"

"Have you heard nothing that Lord Elrond has said?" cried Legolas leaping to his feet, his eyes flashing, "The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" exclaimed Gimli, glaring at the elf-prince. Legolas looked down at the dwarf with irritation that was bordering on irate.

"And if we fail what then?" Boromir said, rising from his chair, "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

"I will be dead before I see the ring in the hands of an elf!"

At this all of the elves in attendance (except Elrond, of course) leapt to their feet in dismay and would have probably torn the foolish dwarf limb from limb if Legolas hadn't, surprisingly, held them back. Before you could say 'Arda gone awry' everyone, excluding Elrond, Aragorn, Frodo and Mel was yelling and insulting one another and their respective races with any and all of the foul names they could think of. Mel watched Frodo with interest as he studied the Ring. She knew what it was doing to him. She saw the resolve build in his eyes until he stood.

"I will take it!"

Mel smiled, even though no one was paying the slightest bit of attention to her.

"I will take it!" He shouted even louder, taking a bold step forward.

This time, he was heard. The arguing council quieted all around him. They turned and stared, elves and dwarves and men.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor." Frodo said, his eyes flashing with an angry determination.

"I think that you are right to do this, Frodo," Lord Elrond said with a quiet conviction in his voice, "This is the time of the Shire folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and councils of the great. It is a heavy burden and I will not lay it on you, but you take it freely and so I give it to you and say that your choice is right."

"Here now!"

Mel jumped and a startled laugh escaped her as a pudgy hobbit jumped from the bushes behind her and slid to a stop next to Frodo, his arms crossed stubbornly.

"Surely you would not send him alone, my lord!" the hobbit said, his posture not showing even an ounce of the deference that the title he used suggested.

Elrond, for his part, looked more amused than annoyed.

"No indeed!" He said, "You at least shall go with him, for it seems hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Sam's rigorous stance wilted a bit then, and he blushed furiously, but did not move one inch from where he stood. Frodo smiled fondly at his friend and clapped him on the shoulder, the angry frustration of earlier nowhere to be seen.

"And other companions shall be chosen also, to aid you on your journey," Lord Elrond said, a more authoritative tone to his voice and bearing, "But for now, if it please the members of this council, I request that we turn our attention to another matter."

Mel jerked and turned a terrified stare up to Lord Elrond, who responded with a kind smile.

"Please, step forward Mel."

Chapter Text

"Please step forward, Mel."

Mel felt the bottom drop out from under her and her stomach went with it. She had never had much trouble with stage fright, but this felt like a completely different animal from standing in front of her high school speech class and giving a talk about ferrets.

She managed a few shallow breaths before she forced herself to stand up. Lord Elrond held out an arm to her, gesturing her to his side, still smiling kindly. Mel tried to focus on that smile. She had Lord Elrond's approval, what else did she really need? That thought got her across the floor and turned to face the council. And then her tentative courage failed her. Her knees went a little wobbly looking out on that sea of confused, curious faces, some still glaring at one another as if itching for any reason to start a fight. Lord Elrond, either out of courtesy or because he sensed her unsteadiness, took her elbow gently in his hand. Mel was grateful for the support, however nominal.

"We have spoken of a Ring of great evil and destruction," Lord Elrond said, "And now I turn our attention to a ring of mystery, whose power and purpose is hidden, even from me."

There was a murmur through the gathered members. Mel felt her heart pounding against her ribcage and she looked up at Lord Elrond.

"Perhaps, my dear, you should tell your tale for the benefit of those present." He said, with an encouraging smile.

He patted her arm and then sat in his chair, leaving her standing alone facing a sea of faces that judged her every move and word. Oh god, they were going to laugh her out of Rivendell!

Well… not all of them.

Boromir was looking at her with a thoughtful expression. He knew her story. She had told it to him and he had not dismissed her. He had believed her. And he still believed her; she could see it in his eyes. He hadn't given up or decided she was crazy. He might be irritated with her, sure, but he didn't think she was crazy.

She took a deep breath. She could do this. She could definitely do this.

"What I'm about to tell you may seem kind of… well, odd, but it's the honest truth."

One more deep breath. She could do this.

"I'm not from this world."

Silence. No one spoke. Mel felt the need to fill the silence.

"I'm not from Middle-Earth. I'm not from Across the Sea. I'm… I'm not from anywhere."

She kept talking. She told them everything, she showed them the ring she had found in the forest, explained that she had been somehow transported here, found by Boromir, and brought to Rivendell. Every eye turned to Boromir when he was mentioned, but his eyes did not leave Mel's as he answered their silent question.

"It's true," he said, a small smile on his lips, "I found Melody in the forest, dressed in what I can only suppose is the garb of her own people, spouting angry nonsense and as frightened as I have ever seen another living soul."

Mel blushed and dropped her eyes. She had been scared to death and she had lashed out in anger, and he had been kind to her. Mel wondered if she would ever be able to repay him for that.

"When she first told me her tale, I saw the air of truth in her. I brought her here, to the shelter and wisdom of Lord Elrond, in hopes that she might be returned safely to her home, wherever that might be."

"Then on this, at least, we must agree!"

Mel jerked her eyes up and saw that Legolas was grinning so widely that she thought his face might split.

"What did I tell you, Mel? All revealed in its good time!" He said cheerfully, before pushing to his feet and addressing the council, "My friends, I too have witnessed and been perplexed by this good lady's appearance and manner. Her knowledge of names and places, but unfamiliarity with customs and mannerisms, intrigued me and I made it a goal to befriend her, perhaps to divulge her secrets."

He met her eyes and smiled broadly.

"I was disappointed to discover, not a spy or evil malice, but a lovely, intelligent woman, with an insatiable curiosity and love of our ways and histories. And now her mystery is solved at last and I can think of no reason to disbelieve her tale. As Lord Boromir has said, she has an air of truth to her that cannot be refuted."

Mel smiled at Legolas gratefully. She now had the word of not only Lord Elrond, but also the Prince of Mirkwood and the son of the Steward of Gondor on her side. The other members of the council whispered among themselves, but none seemed eager to stand against the word of three of their most distinguished members.

Well, all except one.

Gimli had been scowling at her from his chair since she'd started talking, but until now Mel had ignored him. Legolas' proclamation of faith, however, seemed to be the last straw for the dwarf. He hopped to his feet and stuck his chin out defiantly.

"Well it all seems a bit out of place to me!"

Oh no… Mel thought to herself, but kept silent and tried to keep her face carefully neutral.

Don 't let them know you're afraid…

"She just shows up in the woods, supposedly from another world, that no one has heard of or seen. But she's a dwarven ring on her finger, knowledge of our world and ways, and the gift of foresight…"

"I don't have foresight." Mel interrupted, more confused than anything now.

"You knew my name!" Gimli said, as if pointing out a fatal flaw in her story, "We have never been introduced, how did you know my name except by divine gift? How do you propose to have a divine gift with regards to our world if you are not, yourself, of this world? It doesn't make sense!"

"I don't have foresight, it was Tolkien!" Mel said, "I just read his books, I didn't even think this place was real!"

"Am I the only one that thinks this is just a bit suspicious?" Gimli said, turning to address the rest of the council, "Are we to believe this nonsense just because a couple of elves and one man have decided to take this woman's words as face value?"

"Have a care, Gloin's son." Aragorn said quietly, "One of those elves of whom you speak is your host."

"And is just as susceptible to witchcraft as the rest of us, I'd wager!" Gimli said.

Mel shuddered. The council was beginning to murmur again. Witchcraft. She had not thought of witchcraft. She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, and a completely unfounded image filled her mind, piles of wood being stacked in the courtyard, watching the flames come closer and closer as the crowd looked on, watching, waiting for her to burn…

"No…"

Mel jerked at the small soft voice in her head, and then a bush behind Gimli's chair shot out it's branches and wrapped around the dwarf's feet, hands and midsection.

"What?!" he yelled as he was lifted into the air. "Put me down! What trickery is this?! Put me down, I say! I'll chop you to pieces if you don't let me go!"

Mel gaped for a solid five seconds as the dwarf swung helplessly in the air. What…? What was happening? The tiny voice in her mind replied.

"He will not take you… You will not burn…"

"Melody…"

Lord Elrond's voice in her ear made her jump. He was beside her again, his hand on her elbow, his eyes on the display in front of him. She thought she caught a trace of amusement in his voice.

"Mel, is this your doing?"

Mel turned back to the swinging dwarf and a wave of hysterical laughter threatened to bubble up her throat. She only barely managed to contain it. Was she doing this? It didn't feel like it. It wasn't the action she would have picked to convince the council that she wasn't a witch, for sure. There was nothing about this that was helping her cause… but it was really damn funny.

"My lord," she said, when she was finally sure that she wasn't going to burst into laughter when she opened her mouth, "I have no idea what's going on."

Gimli had finally given up fighting and was just hanging in the air with his arms crossed, glaring at Mel.

"Try to put him down." Elrond prodded, "It might be that this magic is a defensive mechanism and is triggered by your fear, out of your control."

"If this is anything but intentional I'll eat my braids!" Gimli shouted, "Put me down instantly, witch, or so help me…"

"You'll what?" Mel asked, starting to lose patience, "Annoy me to death? I have twin sisters, Master Dwarf, your threats are nothing to me."

Gimli's mouth opened and closed a few times, his face turning an interesting shade of purple before he finally shut it for good and glared silently at her.

"Mel…"

Lord Elrond's voice was a gentle reminder and Mel nodded. She closed her eyes. She searched her mind for that tiny voice, the voice that she knew was actually responsible for the incident with the plant. She could feel it, a little green spark in a corner of her mind. She prodded that spark and it unfolded before her, curling around her consciousness almost protectively.

"You need to put him down." Mel thought to herself, hoping that the message was conveyed in the same way the unbidden picture in her mind had been conveyed to the tiny voice.

She heard the leaves on the bush rustle once and she opened her eyes. The bush was shuddering and she heard the tiny voice.

"Are you sure? He will hurt you, Calenhiril, I saw, I saw it, he will burn you."

Mel shivered. There it was again, Calenhiril, the name the Ring had spoken in her mind. What was it? What did it mean? She would tell Lord Elrond later, maybe he would know more…

"What is happening?!" Gimli shouted, his eyes wide in fear as the bush shivered and swayed with him in it's grip.

Mel brought her focus back to the task.

"Release him," she said, "He won't hurt me. I'm with friends."

She pictured Legolas and Elrond and Boromir, the three people in this room that she had at least a reasonable certainty would protect her if it came to that. She didn't think it would, but she pictured them anyway, to reassure the small voice in her head… Oh god, she was talking to herself! No time to think about that now, focus, focus…

The bush shuddered once more, and then gently, Gimli was placed on the ground, the tendrils of delicate branches unraveling from around him and curling back in on themselves. She felt an overwhelming sense of relief that she wasn't sure was entirely her own. She smiled.

But the moment Gimli was free, the dwarf reached for an axe at his belt and lunged for the now-fully-normal bush.

"NO!" Mel screamed, running to stop him, but she was too far, too slow, too late…

Faster than thought, Boromir was up and had the stunned dwarf on the ground, a dagger at his throat.

"Be careful, dwarf," He growled, soft and dangerous, "Or this will cease to be fun and games."

Gimli swallowed hard. There was an uncertain pause. Then Gimli's axe hit the floor with a clatter. Boromir removed the dagger slowly and rose, allowing the dwarf to find his feet. Gimli rubbed the spot at his throat tentatively, he and Boromir glaring at one another. Then Boromir nodded and returned to his seat, giving the dwarf not another backward glance. Gimli slowly picked up his axe and replaced it in his belt. But when he tried to return to his own seat, he finally saw Mel sitting there, waiting. The dwarf sighed and approached her warily.

"May I have my seat, my lady?" He said, grudgingly.

"I will have that axe first." Mel said primly, holding out her hand.

Gimli snorted.

"Come now! I won't chop down your bewitched bush!"

"He's not bewitched," Mel said (and wondered briefly when the bush had become a 'he'), "And if you don't plan on chopping him up, then you have no need of your axe."

"I will not give up my one defense!" Gimli exclaimed, his eyes flicking over the council, mostly elves, mostly all angry at him for one reason or another. Mel smirked. He should have thought of that before…

"Then you will not have your seat." She replied firmly, "You can sit on the floor or take my chair, if you prefer."

Mel pointed to the only other empty place in the circle, right next to Legolas, who was smiling in a way that was almost feral. It was a little frightening, even to Mel, she could admit it.

"Come lad," an old grizzled voice spoke from Mel's right and she jumped. In all the excitement, she'd actually forgotten that there was, in fact, another dwarf present.

Gloin sat in his seat contentedly, his nose nearly buried in his own full white beard, hands clasped over his belly, a twinkle in his eyes as he regarded his hot-headed son.

"Every fine warrior can admit when he's been outwitted." Gloin said, winking surreptitiously at Mel (to her surprise and delight), "Take your medicine graciously, boy, and accept the terms of defeat. They are not so high, and allow for other battles to be won and lost another day."

Mel tried to hide her grin, she really did. But she wasn't sure she did such a great job. Gimli glared at her for another moment. Then, finally, muttering under his breath about 'confounded women', 'bewitch us all', and 'emotional hogwash', he handed over his axe. Mel smiled triumphantly and returned to her seat beside Legolas, cradling the spoils of her battle in her lap. Legolas looked like he wanted to say something, but Lord Elrond spoke first.

"I have never heard of a dwarven ring that had power over the growing things of the earth. Gimli, Gloin, have you any knowledge of such a thing?"

"The bauble is dwarven-make sure as anything," Gloin said from his contented position (Gimli continued to sulk and say nothing), "I would know the work of my kinsmen anywhere. But I can think of no tales or myths that might explain it's origins or the powers invested therein. Once I return to Erebor, the libraries might contain something of use, but…"

The old dwarf spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. Mel felt the tiny glimmer of hope in the pit of her stomach fade.

"It seems the mystery continues." Lord Elrond said, "Not only how you came to us, Mel, but the power with which you seem to have been gifted. Perhaps there is purpose to your coming here, not yet revealed."

Her eyes flicked to Boromir. He was looking at her with a small knowing smirk on his lips. Mel rolled her eyes and ignored him. It didn't matter. She couldn't stay. And the sooner she was gone, the better.

"We will study this further and see what can be learned. As for the matter of the Ringbearer, his companions will be chosen and announced in due course. This council is concluded."

Chapter Text

The next day, Lord Elrond sought Mel out and sat her down in a small, secluded courtyard, just the two of them.

"Now," he said, his tone quiet but firm, "I want you to tell me exactly what happened yesterday, what you felt, what you saw, what you heard, anything you can think of. Leave nothing out."

So she did. She even told him about the little voice in her head, which made her feel a little bit like she might be having a psychotic break (but really, what didn't make her feel like she was having a breakdown these day?), and this more than anything actually seemed to please the elf-lord.

"If your ring is speaking to you, then it responds not only to your subconscious instincts, but to your conscious thoughts as well." He explained, "This means that the power might be easier to control than I supposed."

"It gave me a name," she said, "Calenhiril. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Green Lady," Lord Elrond mused, "Apropos, if nothing else. I do find it odd that the bearer of a dwarven ring would be named in the elven tongue. Such a merging of our cultures is not unheard of, but it is suggestive of a power far more ancient than I thought. I will have to look through some of my older records…"

He trailed off for a moment, deep in thought, and Mel sat very still watching him think. Finally he shook his head slightly and his eyes cleared. He smiled at her and took her hand in his.

"I will do everything I can to determine the source of this power, Mel, and to find a way home for you." he said, "You have my word."

Mel returned his smile.

"I know. Thank you. I really can't thank you enough for everything you've done, Lord Elrond. If it hadn't been for you and…"

She trailed off. She hadn't spoken to Boromir since the Council. He had left and she hadn't seen him since. The truth was she thought he might be angry at her. He had defended her at the Council, sure, but he had also seemed upset by her refusal to stand by him against Aragorn's claim. Actually, they had been in a tumultuous tumble of emotional highs and lows ever since they had laid eyes on each other. And that had only been two days ago…

"Oh… Forgive me, I… didn't mean to intrude."

Boromir's voice cut into her thoughts and she jerked her eyes up, surprised speechless. Lord Elrond, to his credit, didn't miss a beat as he swept gracefully to his feet.

"Not at all, I was just leaving."

He bowed to Mel with a murmured promise to share the results of his search and then he was gone. Mel sat awkwardly on the bench for a few moments, fiddling with her ring, before realizing that Boromir might be waiting for her to leave.

"Oh, I guess, um, I should…"

"Do you have a moment?"

She stared up at him. He had his hands clasped behind him, rigid and stiff, his eyes cast somewhere over her right shoulder. She involuntarily looked behind her to see if he was maybe talking to someone else. But of course there was no one there.

"I… yeah. Yeah, I… guess I have all day."

He nodded and then turned on his heel, heading off at a leisurely pace down one of the tiled walkways. It took Mel a few seconds to realize she was supposed to be following and she rushed to catch up. For a few minutes they walked in silence under the elegant stone archways. Mel wasn't quite sure what to do with her hands. Boromir had his clasped firmly behind his back, but it didn't seem all that comfortable if his stiff posture was any indication. She kept alternating between twirling her ring around her finger (something that was becoming an annoyingly persistent habit) and bunching her hands in the fabric of her dress. Boromir never even twitched, gave no hint of nervous energy whatsoever. In fact, he was the picture of stillness, staring ahead with a calm, distant expression that seemed to make Mel's restless gestures all the more glaringly obvious. Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Look, you don't have to do this." She blurted out.

Boromir flinched and finally looked at her, clearly surprised.

"Do what?"

"This…" she said, waving a hand between them vaguely, "I know, I know I must be really strange to you, and you've been nothing but nice to me, and I'm… I'm grateful, really, you'll never know how incredibly grateful I am, but if it's too much, if you'd rather just kind of forget you ever met me that's fine, really, I'll be okay, I just…"

"Melody."

She stopped talking and dropped her hands (which had been waving around in increasingly frantic gestures). Boromir's voice was soft and… almost amused. They had stopped walking and Boromir's tense shoulders had relaxed a fraction. There was the hint of smile on his lips.

"Every morning for as long as I can remember, I have woken with the knowledge that evil lurked just to the East, within sight of my walls. Since I was old enough to wield a sword, I have been fighting creatures so twisted and grotesque as to be almost unrecognizable. I have ordered men into battles from which I knew they would not return and I have watched darkness creep ever closer to those whom I love every day of my life. So yes, you are lost and you are frightened and you are undoubtedly strange, but you will never be 'too much.'"

Mel swallowed. Of course. She was being stupid, imagining that anything about her might be overwhelming or freak him out. The bravest man she'd ever known… well, read about anyway… freaked out over one girl. It sounded ridiculous now that she was thinking about it.

"Truthfully, I…"

Boromir paused and shuffled a bit, the very first obvious sign of discomfort he'd made.

"I had thought… perhaps you might be angry, after my appalling behavior yesterday."

Mel stared at him. Then a laugh escaped her before she could successfully smother it in her hands. Boromir looked up from the ground, his brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry." She said, "That was… I'm sorry, but it's funny because I was actually thinking that you were mad at me!"

Boromir nodded his head solemnly, his eyes dropping back to the ground between them.

"Yes, I… I feel I should apologize for that as well, in fact that was the very reason I wanted to speak to you, I just… I didn't know where to begin."

"The beginning usually works." She said, smiling.

He met her eyes and then inclined his head slightly toward her.

"The beginning then." He said, "I am sorry I disagreed with you on the balcony. It is not my place to tell you what you should or should not do with your life. Your destiny should be determined by your decisions and yours alone, and I am sorry that I upset you. More than anything, I am sorry for that."

That last seemed to almost be an afterthought, spoken softly, hesitantly, and Mel's breath hitched as she desperately tried to keep her heartbeat regulated. She swallowed and nodded an acknowledgment, but she didn't trust herself to speak which, as it turned out, was a good thing because Boromir wasn't done.

"I am sorry that I allowed my temper to get the best of me during council and I am sorry that any of that anger might have mistakenly been directed at you. I am sorry that I was not able to control my reaction when the dwarf threatened you and that I might have inadvertently frightened you with my actions. And finally, I am deeply sorry it has taken me so long to seek you out and lay out my transgressions. I hope that you can find it within you to forgive me because I… I would prefer us not to be at odds, even if friendship is no longer possible."

Mel was… well, frankly she was a little overwhelmed. That was the most thorough and elegant apology she had ever heard, and she didn't really feel like she had the words to accept it as graciously as it deserved. There were several seconds of silence as Mel tried to gather herself and think of something even remotely adequate to say in response.

Right. Start at the beginning.

"You don't have to be sorry for disagreeing with me."

Boromir looked up and tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. Mel kept talking, hoping momentum would carry her along.

"Honestly, what you said, that you even considered the possibility that I might stay and that it might be a good thing? That means a lot to me. And you didn't upset me."

He raised an eyebrow at her and she backed down a little.

"Well, okay, I was upset, but… you didn't do anything to make me upset, so you don't need to apologize for that either. And losing your temper at the council, I was expecting it a little bit so that's okay too."

"You were expecting…?"

Boromir's puzzled expression suddenly darkened.

"You knew…" He said, "…about the Ranger."

"Aragorn," Mel said, almost automatically, "Yes."

"From your books."

Mel nodded. Boromir closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath through his nose.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, "It's… it's difficult to accept…"

"I know." Mel said quickly, "Trust me, I know."

She reached out a hand, almost touching his arm, but changed her mind at the last minute and dropped it.

"And you didn't scare me, by the way."

He opened his eyes, startled into looking at her again.

"When you went after Gimli. Honestly, I didn't even realize anything had happened until he was already on the floor and by that time it was a little too late to be scared. I'm grateful, but I don't think he would really have hurt me, you know?"

Boromir narrowed his eyes.

"I did not care for his tone," he said, "Or his accusations. I think you should show him caution."

Mel rolled her eyes.

"I appreciate your concern, Boromir, but really, I don't think he'd hurt me, especially not here in Rivendell."

"You didn't seem so confident in that assumption yesterday, when you wrapped him up in branches and hoisted him into the air."

"That wasn't me."

"Who was it then?"

Boromir's voice was soft and playful, and his posture had relaxed completely. Mel stared at him for a moment, enjoying the transformation and…

"Caleeeennnhiriiiillll…"

She jerked her head up and looked around. The little girl's voice was soft and distant, saying the name in a child's playful singsong.

"Melody?"

"Caleeeennnhiriiiillll… This way!"

There was an echoing giggle and Mel wondered how in the world it could echo when it was only in her head…

She jumped when Boromir touched her elbow.

"What?" she yelped, "Sorry, I just… what did you say?"

Boromir narrowed his eyes.

"Are you quite alright?" He asked, "You just… Did you hear something?"

"No!" Mel squeaked, "I mean, no, no of course not, why, did you hear something? I didn't hear anything."

"Liar, liar!"

Mel gritted her teeth and forced herself not to react to the childish taunt.

Boromir's brow furrowed.

"Melody, what's wrong?"

"Nothing…" Mel insisted, her eyes flicking unbidden over Boromir's shoulder, down a long corridor.

The child continued to laugh in her head. Oh god, she was going completely insane!

"Nothing's wrong, okay? I'm fine." She said, forcing a smile at Boromir. She even touched his arm, gripping his tunic as the little girl's voice continued to giggle and call out to her, "I just… I have something… There's a thing I have to do, I just thought of it. I, uh, I'll see you later, okay?"

Without giving him time to respond, she squeezed his arm and slipped past him into the corridor, walking as fast as she could without actually breaking into a run. Her mind was racing, her heart pounding. This wasn't the same voice she'd heard at the council. That had been a young voice, but not quite this young, more like a teenage boy. This was clearly a little girl's voice; she knew what little girls sounded like. She was especially familiar with the laughter of little girls. Her sisters laughed a lot, though they weren't so little anymore.

"A new game!" The little girl exclaimed, "Oh come find me, Calenhiril, come find me!"

The corridor branched off in opposite directions and Mel slid to stop. The little girl giggled, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere… or nowhere since it was all in her head. Oh god, she was going nuts…

"Left is right and right is wrong!" the little girl chanted in a silly singsong voice.

Left is… what? It took Mel a little longer than should have been strictly necessary to figure out what the little girl was trying to tell her. Peals of laughter echoed in the silence. Mel was trying not to panic. Finally she turned left and kept walking. The little girl was humming now, a silly little tune that Mel couldn't place. This corridor was made up of arched windows all along the length, open to the sun on both sides, and Mel passed from light to shadow and back several times before she reached the end. A pair of wooden double doors blocked the entryway.

"Almost there!" the little girl said cheerfully, "Come find me, Calenhiril!"

Mel put her hand on one of the doors and gave it a little push. It swung open smoothly and she peeked inside. It looked like a small library. There were cramped rows of bookshelves filled with tomes and loosely bound parchments, a single table with two chairs, and the perimeter of the room was punctuated with the same arched windows as the hallway, allowing beams of sunshine to highlight the dust motes floating in the air.

"Hello?" Mel called out tentatively.

No answer. The place looked deserted.

"Caleeeennnhiriiiillll…"

The little girl giggled again. Mel stepped into the room.

"How about a… a new rule?" Mel said, trying not to feel too ridiculous talking to empty air, "For the game? I'll start walking and if I'm getting closer, you say "warmer", but if I'm getting farther away you say "colder". Okay?"

The girl gasped.

"Ooooh! I like this game, I like it!"

Mel took a few steps to the right of the door.

"Colder!" the child exclaimed happily.

Mel immediately changed directions, walking along the left edge of the library, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of… well anything really.

"Warmer… Warmer… Keep going, Calenhiril!"

Mel was nearly halfway along the wall and she didn't see anything. She passed though the light of one of the windows, scanning the bookshelves…

"Whoops! Getting colder now!"

Mel stopped. The girl giggled. She took two steps back.

"Warm as summer sunshine!"

Mel paused. She was standing in the light of the window. There was nothing in the library but old dusty books. She turned and glanced outside. There was a little courtyard, with a few flower beds and a tall, slender tree waving its branches in the window.

"You found me, you found me!" The little girl exclaimed and the tree's branches shook and scraped along the stone of the archway.

But there was no breeze to move them.

"Please don't mind her. She's been like this all year."

Mel whirled around, searching for the voice that had joined the child's giggle in her mind, a man's voice, smooth and elegant, exactly the type of voice Mel might expect to hear in a library in Rivendell. But she didn't see anything that looked like…

"I anxiously await the day she grows into something akin to decent company. I'm afraid that might be a few more years in the waiting, unfortunately. If I have to play one more game of 'I Spy'…"

"I spy something pretty!"

There was a long-suffering sigh and the leaves of a potted bush with beautiful pink and white flowers rustled slightly.

"Yavanna is clearly testing me…"

"Play, Rod, play! I spy something pretty! And it has brown leaves and pale bark and four legs!"

"Calenhiril has only two legs, child, those others are 'arms', we've been over this."

"But they look the same… Why do their branches have so many different names?"

Another sigh and rustle from the potted plant.

"What have I done to merit this torture?"

Mel felt a little dizzy. She put a shaking hand on the window sill and tried to think. A tree… She… She had been talking to…

"Oh dear…" The man's voice said, "Oh dear me, you'd better sit down I think, Calenhiril, your bark… I mean, your skin has gone rather pale."

Mel slid down until she was sitting on the floor with her back to the wall. The bush rustled a bit and then seemed to settle.

"I think… That is, I believe introductions are perhaps in order." He said, sounding a bit flustered, "I am called Rhododendron, though the child seems to have a bit of trouble with that, so she calls me…"

"Rod!" the little girl (tree, the tree, Mel was talking to a TREE!) said, sounding quite proud of herself, "And I'm Birch! Rod is my friend, he's the only one who talks to me. We're best friends, aren't we, Rod?"

"Yes, child, of course we are." Rod answered with that same tolerant fondness that underscored every word he spoke to her.

"Okay…" Mel said, taking a deep breath, "Okay, no need to panic. I'm hearing voices. Voices that belong to plants. Okay, I can do this. Everything's going to be fine. I can totally do this."

"You aren't crazy, you know." Birch said with the sincerity and candor born of childish innocence, "You're Calenhiril. You're supposed to talk to us!"

"For once the child is right." Rod agreed, "You needn't be afraid, Calenhiril. We're here to help you."

"Help me?" Mel huffed, "What do you mean, help me?"

"The one who wears the Yavannacor carries a great burden," Rod said, "Her work is not complete until all of Yavanna's children have been brought to the light. We are here to help you in any way we can, Calenhiril."

"Yavannacor?" Mel asked.

"The ring you now wear."

Mel jerked her hand away from the ring she'd been twirling absently.

"The stone-children made it!" Birch said proudly, like a child showing off her knowledge to a parent.

"Stone-children?"

"You call them dwarves." Rod explained, "They forged the Yavannacor in a time long forgotten, before they were forced into their long slumber, as a gift to assuage the wrath of their Maker's wife. Yavanna took this ring and sent it far away, across land and sea, and spoke that it would only be found by one who could honor the bond between all children, be they of earth, or stone, or light. This one she would name as her own and would call upon her only at great need."

"Is this supposed to help me not freak out?" Mel asked, "Because, I'll be honest, I'm kind of freaking out! Why me? Why in the world would some ring pick me for anything? I don't have any special connection with the earth! No offense but, I can't even keep houseplants alive! I actually had a cactus die on me once. A cactus! Do you understand? There has clearly been some sort of a mistake, because I am the wrong girl for this job!"

"Yavanna doesn't make mistakes, only happy accidents." Birch said cheerfully.

"That is not helping!" Mel squeaked, and then clapped her hands over her mouth.

She thought she'd heard footsteps. Oh god, if someone caught her talking to herself, all alone in some deserted library, they'd lock her up for sure…

It started up again, the distinct slap of running footsteps on stone echoing in the closed off space.

"No, no, Pippin, this way!"

"I thought you said we should take a right turn…"

"No, I said make the right turn!"

"But this is a left turn…"

"Would you hurry up, they're going to catch us!"

The two little hobbits ran in and quickly put their backs to the door, heaving it closed with a resounding thud, then leaned there for a moment, catching their breath. Their arms were filled with what appeared to be silver cutlery. Mel was glad her hand was still over her mouth to stifle her urge to giggle.

Pippin took a quick glance around the room.

"Well," he said, "This definitely isn't the same armory we were in yesterday!"

Merry caught sight of Mel sitting on the floor with a hand over her mouth, trying not to burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. His face lit up.

"Miss Mel!" He exclaimed, elbowing his cousin, "Look, Pip, it's Miss Mel!"

Pippin grinned and raised a hand to wave at her.

"Oh hello there, Miss…"

Unfortunately in his excitement, Pippin seemed to have forgotten that his arms were full of silverware and when he lifted his hand, the whole pile went clattering to the floor. Pippin winced and Merry slapped his younger cousin upside the head.

"Now you've gone and done it!" Merry hissed, "They'll have heard that for sure!"

Sure enough, there was an echo of exclamation and Mel could hear more running footsteps in the halls. Pippin bent down to scoop up the dropped silver, clutching it to his chest, and both hobbits looked up with wide eyes, searching for a way out. Mel rolled her eyes.

"Over here!" she hissed, motioning the two hobbits toward her, "Keep your heads down!"

Bent over double so as not to be seen out the tall windows, the two hobbits ran toward her. She shoved them back into the corner beside Rod, whose branches rustled indignantly.

"Calenhiril, what on earth…?"

"Just keep down, don't move, don't make a noise." Mel whispered to the two hobbits, who both nodded so vigorously that their curls bounced.

She could hear Birch giggling in her head.

"It's hide and seek, we're going to play hide and seek!"

A small smile quirked the corner of Mel's lips, but she quickly wiped it away. Someone pounded on the door.

"Open up you miscreants!" A cultured elven voice shouted, "We know you're in there and we know what you've done! Open up!"

Mel took a deep breath and stood up. She could see across the courtyard into the hallway through the windows. There was a tall, dark-haired elf standing just outside the door with a red-headed elf wearing an apron smudged with flour. The dark-haired elf pounded on the door again.

"I'm warning you, don't make us come in there, or Lord Elrond will hear of this!"

Mel straightened her dress and hurried to the door. She took a deep breath and glanced back at the two hobbits still crouched in the corner with wide, mischievous eyes. She gave them one last motion for quiet. Then, she calmly opened the door.

The two elves froze. The taller one lowered his hand, which looked like he'd been just about to pound on the door again, and cleared his throat.

"My lady, forgive me," He said, smoothly and elegantly, "We were just… You haven't happened to see two small hobbits pass this way?"

"Carrying armfuls of my spoons?" the red-headed elf added.

Mel raised an eyebrow. Just spoons? She hadn't noticed that the hobbits only had spoons…

"No, I'm afraid not." She said, in the most dignified voice she could muster, "I only came here because it seemed such a quiet and deserted place, I thought I might be alone for a while. I haven't seen anyone."

"Liar, liar! Liar, liar!" Birch squealed, dissolving into peals of laughter.

Mel managed to ignore her.

"Are you sure?" The red-headed elf asked, pushing past his dark-haired companion, "I could have sworn that I saw the little trouble-makers…"

The dark-haired elf put a hand on the other's chest, holding him back.

"Peace, Caranion." He said, giving Mel an apologetic look, "I'm sure we'll find them. If you see them, my lady, could you please ask that they return my friend's good silverware to the kitchen? We would be most grateful."

"Of course." Mel said, smiling sweetly.

The two elves bowed and left, Caranion looking over his shoulder once reluctantly. Mel watched until they turned the corner and were well out of sight. Then she softly closed the door and pressed her forehead to the wood, closing her eyes.

"Spoons?" Mel asked, turning her head so she could eye the hobbits, "Really guys? Spoons?"

Twin smiles broke out across their expressive faces. Mel rolled her eyes and sat down in her original spot on the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"You do plan to take them back eventually, right?" she asked.

"Actually, we were going to leave them in the armory and wait for someone to find them." Merry said.

"But someone got us turned around and so we ended up here instead." Pippin said.

"It's not my fault you don't know your right from your left!"

"You said to turn right!"

"I did not!"

Mel buried her face in her knees and started giggling helplessly. Birch was laughing right along with her and she could hear the young tree's branches scraping the stone of the window sill.

"Oh, I like your little friends, Calenhiril!" Birch exclaimed, "We should play more games, do you think they'd play 'I Spy' with me?"

"They can't hear you, child." Rod reminded her gently, "Only Calenhiril can hear you."

"Oh… right. Sometimes I forget."

For the first time, the childish voice sounded a little sad. Mel stood up and looked out into the little courtyard. Empty. A few well-tended flower beds, and Birch standing tall and slim in her corner. Mel reached out and touched the tendrils of branches that were waving close to the window. The little girl giggled and the branches shuddered.

"That tickles!"

Mel smiled.

"I spy something pretty…" She thought to herself.

"Nope, I already spied you, Calenhiril!" Birch exclaimed.

Mel jumped. Then she remembered the Council and the small bush and how her thoughts had been transferred to it. They could read her thoughts. Mel's smile widened.

"Well I spy something pretty with silver bark and long branches and orange leaves." She answered in her head.

The young tree shivered again and laughed.

"That's me, that's me!"

"Don't let it go to your head, child." Rod said, but beneath the stern tone Mel thought she could almost hear a smile.

"Is it safe to come out do you think, Miss Mel?"

Merry's voice cut jarringly into her thoughts. Mel looked down at the two hobbits, still crouched close to her feet, clutching their pilfered spoons. She rolled her eyes and glanced through the windows. She couldn't see anyone in the surrounding hallways.

"I think you're probably safe." She said.

The hobbits stood up and rearranged their stolen goods to be easier to carry.

"You wouldn't happen to have found a map of this place anywhere, would you Miss Mel?" Pippin asked, smiling up at her, "Being as we're in a library and all…"

"There is a map under glass at the front of the room, Calenhiril." Rod said confidently.

Mel immediately turned and headed in that direction, the hobbits following close at her heels. She found the map on a pedestal and between the two hobbits (who had to stand in a chair to be able to read the map) they were able to determine the location of the armory where they had meant to drop their ill-gotten goods. Mel did her best to memorize their current location and other bits of the map, but she knew it was probably useless. She had never been good at that sort of thing.

"Come on!" Merry said, hopping out of the chair, Pippin following, "Quick, before Lindir gets wise and comes back for us!"

"I think I'd better go along with you," Mel said, "I need to find Lord Elrond and someone needs to make sure you guys stay out of trouble."

Merry and Pippin exchanged a look and then shrugged.

"Alright, come on then!" Merry said, zipping out the door, Pippin right on his heels.

Mel rolled her eyes and followed the hobbits, pausing just for a second and looking back toward the pink and white flowered bush. She could just see the tips of Birch's branches waving through the window.

"Bye, Calenhiril!" the little girl said, "Come play any time!"

Mel smiled.

"I'll be back." She thought.

"Come on, Miss Mel!" Pippin's shout echoed down the hall.

Mel smiled and ran after him.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Mel wasn't able to see Lord Elrond until the next day. But when she finally told him what had happened, and what Rod and Birch had said about the Yavannacor, the elven lord was nearly beside himself with enthusiasm. It was quickly decided that they should meet daily in one of the smaller gardens.

"Perhaps, surrounded by the source of the ring's power, we can discover the limits and strengths of its magic," Lord Elrond said, "This could be the key that unlocks the way home for you, Mel."

Once the elven lord took his leave of her, Mel didn't particularly know what to do with herself. She had a whole day stretching before her and nothing to fill it. The only thing she knew to do was to return to the small library, maybe play with Birch and allow Rod some (mostly likely well-deserved) time off.

That was how she found the twins.

Her pathetic attempt to memorize the map of Imladris had apparently been for nothing whatsoever. Within five minutes Mel was pretty sure she was lost. Within seven she was completely sure she was lost. Within ten she was beginning to wonder if she was ever going to find her way out of the labyrinth she had lost herself in. Even her attempts to backtrack only succeeded in getting her more turned around. Finally, Mel had only one goal: find the sun. If she could only get outside it was still early enough that she would at least be able to determine her cardinal directions, and from there might at least be able to reorient herself for a new navigational attempt.

So the first flash of sunlight she spotted, she followed, like a moth to flame. The faint sounds of metal striking metal didn't really register with her until she stepped out of the hall and into the sunshine. She blinked, and almost immediately shrank back into the shadow of the doorway.

She had stumbled into a courtyard, which opened up into a lush carpet of green grass, surrounded on all sides by large trees. In the center of this smooth green arena two elves crossed swords, slipping and spinning around each other so gracefully that Mel might have mistaken it for dancing except for the flash and clang of metal. They moved together and then broke apart, circling each other carefully.

"I don't know why you bother, Elrohir," One elf taunted, "I've proven myself your better on more than one occasion."

"Ci ben-ind?" the other shot back, and though Mel didn't know the words she could tell they were spoken in a playful tone, "Day before yesterday you yielded to me twice!"

They stepped together and the first elf swung his sword in a graceful arc, but the other spun out of reach, his own sword flashing out almost faster than Mel's eyes could follow. It was met with a clang of metal as the first elf blocked and swung again. Back and forth they went, brown hair and red robes swirling together in an indistinguishable tangle.

Mel took advantage of their distraction and slipped across the open space, hiding under the shadow of one of the trees that bordered their sparring ground. She could no longer tell which elf was which. The two were nearly identical, and at the speed they were moving it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. Her mind raced, certain that she had heard something, something one of them had said, something important…

I don't know why you bother, Elrohir…

Elrohir… and Elladan…

One of the sons of Elrond grunted and the other swung his sword high, forcing his brother to duck, missing the sharp edge by scant inches. But the attacker followed through, whirling in a complete graceful turn and smacking his brother's backside with the flat of his sword.

"Hah!" he cried as his opponent stumbled, "Lasto i lalaith nîn, hanar! Ha ha!"

"Nan aear ar in elin…" the other grumbled, already dropped into a crouch facing his brother, "Elladan, stop showing off; it's not attractive. Ú-istol te tíren men?"

"Iston," Elladan said, smirking, "Ista peded edhellen?"

"Den ú-iston." Elrohir answered, shrugging.

Listening to the language flowing off their tongues (what she could only assume was some form of elvish, though it sounded very different from what she had taught herself back home) was nearly as hypnotizing as watching the two brothers circle one another, gliding over the bright green grass. It made it all the more jarring when Elladan suddenly straightened out of his crouch, turned… and looked directly at her.

"Suil!" he called, raising a hand to her, a wide smile on his smooth face, "Istol peded edhellen?"

Mel felt like a small animal, frozen in a pair of headlights barreling down the highway. She didn't know what to do. Should she come out? Should she run? Was he expecting an answer?

Elladan waited a moment and then turned back to his brother and shrugged.

"Apparently not." He said, smoothly transitioning back into a language that Mel could understand.

Elrohir rolled his eyes and straightened out of his own crouch, sheathing his sword.

"Pe-channas…" he muttered as he stepped past his brother, pushing him aside with one hand and sketching a small bow in Mel's direction with the other.

"Please, forgive my brother's insolence," he said, "I think he must have skipped all our mother's many lessons on proper etiquette and good manners."

"Nîdh!" Elladan said, placing a hand to his chest and stumbling back one single, dramatic step, "Dearest brother, you wound me so!"

Elrohir rolled his eyes, but did not indulge his brother's antics with even a look in his direction.

"Im Elrohir," he said, placing a hand formally over his heart and slipping (almost thoughtlessly) into that elegant elvish tongue, "And this-"

He waved a hand behind him without actually looking back.

"-is my brother, Elladan. May I assume that we have the pleasure of addressing Melody Bernston, our father's honored guest?"

'Honored guest'? Mel wasn't sure how 'honored' she was. What was she supposed to say to that? She shrank back against the trunk of the tree, trying to think, and she felt the trunk shiver under her hands. The leaves rustled with the movement.

"Do not fear, Calenhiril," a man's deep, kindly voice murmured in her mind, "The sons of Elrond are friends of the forest. They will do you no harm."

"I'm not scared they'll hurt me…" Mel replied, "I'm scared of looking like a complete idiot."

"It's just Mel." She said finally, sounding much smaller and quieter than she had intended, "And I… I didn't mean to interrupt or… or intrude or anything. I'll just…"

As she spoke, she started to ease backward, toward the perceived safety of the open archway behind her.

"Now look what you've done, Elrohir!" Elladan exclaimed, shoving past his brother and waving a hand in Mel's direction, "You've frightened her off! I knew I shouldn't have let you speak, you always make a mess of it!"

"Nin?!" Elrohir exclaimed, "If any of us have frightened her it is undoubtedly you, brother. You've always been too heavy handed in these matters, if I could have approached her alone…"

"And allow you to color her opinion against me?" Elladan said, "Never!"

The argument quickly devolved into incomprehensible elvish after that and Mel watched, strangely fascinated, as the brothers bickered. It was like watching a tennis match, back and forth, back and forth, effortless with years of practice, and always colored by a good-natured fondness. After a moment, the elves seemed to realize that she was actually still standing there and the argument came to an abrupt halt. They both regarded her with eyes that, like their father, were both playfully young and unfathomably old at the same time.

"Well," Elrohir said, crossing his arms and regarding her steadily, "It appears our little friend has not flown."

"Indeed she has not. No thanks to you, I am certain."

Elladan muttered this last bit under his breath, but before his brother could reply, he clasped his hands behind him and made a quick walk around her, skipping back and away when she tried to follow his movements.

"What are you doing?" Mel asked, not quite cheerful, not quite suspicious, clinging to the trunk of the tree that had somehow become her anchor.

"She might do well." Elladan said, "Given the proper training. Don't you think, brother?"

Elrohir sat back on his heels and studied her carefully, his arms still folded over his chest.

"Perhaps," He said, almost as if muttering to himself, "Yes, I think so."

"Do what?" Mel asked, her eyes flicking back and forth between the twins, "What training?"

They ignored her.

"It would certainly prove entertaining if nothing else." Elladan said, having returned to his brother's side, almost vibrating with barely contained exuberance, "And really, if we don't take it upon ourselves, someone else will undoubtedly come along and botch it up in our place."

"Oh undoubtedly." Elrohir agreed, continuing to regard her with that measuring gaze and a poorly concealed smirk.

"We'd be doing the world a service."

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"Excuse me!"

Elladan looked up as if he'd forgotten she was there and Elrohir merely raised an eyebrow. Mel glared at them, arms crossed, nearly tapping her foot in annoyance.

"Would either of you care to share what exactly you're both so excited about?" she asked, in what she had years ago taken to calling her 'twin-voice', the same tone she took with her sisters when they went off the rails and started talking too fast for the rest of the world to follow. Mel felt a wave of homesickness and shoved it away forcefully, concentrating on her glare.

Elladan and Elrohir paused, shared a look, and then grinned broadly at her.

"Oh yes…" Elladan said.

"…you'll do nicely." Elrohir finished.

And that was how Mel ended up with a sword in her hand, being poked and prodded into endless poses made all the more awkward by the fact that she was wearing a dress. The third time she tripped over her hemline, the twins threw up their hands in dual frustration.

"This won't do at all!" Elladan cried.

"What were you thinking wearing this atrocity for sword play?" Elrohir said, crouching beside her and plucking at her skirt in an almost disgusted manner.

Mel swatted his hand away and scrambled to her feet.

"I'd like to remind both of you that this wasn't my idea." She said, adjusting the grip of her sweaty palm on the sword.

"Well, if you'd like to discontinue…" Elrohir started.

"No!"

The twins exchanged a sly grin. Mel rolled her eyes, but she didn't take it back.

"Just… I need decent clothes, I get it. I'll be better prepared next time." She grumbled.

"Ah, so there will be a next time!" Elladan exclaimed happily, "Excellent!"

Elrohir rolled his eyes.

"I fear you may not be aware of what you have just agreed to, vinimë," he said fondly, "My brother is a bit… shall we say, enthusiastic when it comes to this sort of thing."

"He's trying to tell you that I am a relentless taskmaster with no soul and impossibly high expectations," Elladan said dryly, "He's not wrong, of course. Swordplay is hard work and you have much to learn. But you're nimble enough and you don't shy from the blade. With regular practice with a… ahem… incredibly talented teacher, you could be a passable sword-mistress in… oh, a couple hundred years or so."

Mel rolled her eyes.

"Are you trying to scare me off?" she asked, smirking, "Because you are way too late for that."

The twins exchanged pleased glances.

"I knew I liked her." Elladan said.

"I saw her first." Elrohir replied, examining his nails with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Guys," Mel said, effectively redirecting their attention, "I don't actually have a couple hundred years, so… you know… if we could get back to the matter at hand…"

"Right."

"Yes."

"Absolutely."

"You're standing all wrong…

"Move your right foot forward…"

The days began to fly by. Lord Elrond met Mel every morning, and together they walked among the trees and talked, both to each other and to the surrounding foliage. It became nearly commonplace for Mel, the voices in her head. She hadn't realized it, but she had been hearing them even before she had become aware of them, a constant murmur in the back of her mind. Elrond would often push her to listen to that chatter, to distinguish the voices and try to glean information from them. But all she had to do was to ask and it was soon clear that none of the trees she could reach had any more knowledge than Rod had as to the nature of her power, or the ring she possessed. Elrond was endlessly optimistic, but Mel was always left feeling more frustrated than when they'd begun.

But she was certainly never short of distraction. Ever since The Incident With The Spoons, Merry and Pippin seemed to have decided that Mel was 'alright, for one of the Big Folk' and as a result she found herself constantly chasing after them, attempting to keep them from bringing all of Rivendell down around their ears and prevent poor Lindir (whom she discovered was actually the steward of the house, and therefore, in charge) from having a nervous breakdown. She once attempted to apologize to the elf on the hobbits' behalf and he had replied, with a stoic expression:

"At least it isn't dwarves…"

Mel wasn't entirely sure what to make of that statement and so she'd said nothing.

Speaking of dwarves, Mel saw surprisingly little of the dwarves currently in residence in Rivendell. Despite Boromir's misgivings, Gimli didn't seem intent on doing anything more sinister than giving her suspicious looks from across the dining hall. It was unsettling, sure, but hardly anything to worry about, as Legolas took great pleasure in pointing out to her as often as possible.

"After all, what can he do?" the elf-prince asked, "Shout abuse and nip at your ankles?"

Mel was pretty sure Gimli was capable of a bit more than your average chihuahua, but so far he didn't seem interested in following through and so Mel was content to ignore him for the most part. It was a shame of course, but Mel had plenty of other things to think about. Elladan and Elrohir made sure of that.

No matter what she was doing or who she was with, without fail Mel was present at the sparring field every day at two o'clock. If, for whatever reason, she wasn't, Elladan inevitably hunted her down and dragged her away with eloquent apologies (that managed to contain a lot of words, but actually said very little) to whoever had managed to occupy her time. He hadn't been kidding when he'd described himself as a ruthless taskmaster. The elf did not believe in 'days off'. Day after day, hour after hour, they drilled, beating the fundamentals of swordplay into her mind and body until Mel felt like no amount of hot water would ever soak away the knots and bruises.

And just when she thought that she could take no more, Elrohir decided she should learn Sindarin. She'd only managed a few fascinated glances at some of the phrases the brothers had exchanged, but it seemed that was all it took. Elrohir had pounced on the opportunity like a well-bred tabby cat. He began shouting words and phrases at her, forcing her to repeat the Sindarin in rhythm with her sword drills, a steady cadence that took her mind off the struggle her body was making to keep up with Elladan's demanding training. It was only basic phrases, greetings, questions, farewells, and a few other words she happened to pick up along the way, but it was fascinating and enough to keep her coming back, pushing her through the worst of what Elladan's training put her through.

Rod was also happy to help with her Sindarin, once she was finally able to find him again. It took a few days, but Mel did manage to stumble her way back to the tiny library, and soon she was visiting so often that she was able to find it with no trouble at all. She played word games with Birch to help the young tree make connections with things that she had never seen before, letting an image play in her head and encouraging her young friend to associate it with whatever words she could come up with. Sometimes Mel would read aloud from one of the many books on the shelves, which was something that all three of them enjoyed. Most of the texts were written in Tengwar script, and many of them in some form of elvish, but there were a few written in a language that Mel could actually read, even if she had to stumble through some Tengwar. Most of the contents were fairly dry, but Birch liked listening to the spoken words and Rod would sigh contentedly every time Mel reached for one of the dusty old tomes. He was a plant of knowledge, and any knowledge (even dry, old records of people long-forgotten) would do.

And then there was Boromir. Some days they wouldn't even speak, only glimpse each other across a room or pass each other in a hallway, but it felt as if he had somehow insinuated himself into Mel's life. It gradually got easier to look at him and see the man, rather than the future. And the man was so much… more than that. He was polite and unfailingly kind. He spoke little, but his silences were never idle. When he did decide to speak, his words were always carefully chosen. And his eyes sparkled when he laughed, which he did much more often than Mel would have expected. Sometimes Mel caught herself staring at him, and she got the gut-wrenching feeling that she was watching a train wreck that hadn't happened yet. She always had to excuse herself and leave the room after that.

The days ran into weeks, a steady flow of time, unbroken, peaceful, and so long that Mel began to forget that there was anything else beyond Rivendell and the consistent order of her days. This of course made it all the more painful on the morning that everything shattered.

It had been getting colder every day, and Mel had taken to wrapping a shawl around her shoulders and wearing warmer woolen dresses on her walks in the garden with Lord Elrond, but the morning breeze still managed to nip at her nose and fingertips. She blew on her hands to warm them and watched the elven lord's brow furrow in deep concentration. His eyes were on her, studying her, but his mind was clearly somewhere else.

"Repeat this phrase," he said, and rattled off a string of jibberish that could have possibly been elvish once upon a time.

Mel rolled her shoulders under her shawl and repeated the phrase as best she could. The elf-lord waited a beat, and then passed his hand through the air between them. Nothing happened. His eyes narrowed and he shook his head.

"No… No, that isn't… Maybe in…"

He muttered to himself for a moment, and then spoke another phrase, this one in a guttural tongue that Mel vaguely recognized as an ancient dialect of Khuzdul, the language of the dwarves. Mel dutifully repeated it, as she had every phrase, spell, and expression in the countless languages Lord Elrond had thrown at her in the past few weeks. Mel was fairly certain that the elf must be consulting with Gandalf, because some of these languages were even older than Elrond.

They waited a moment, and then Elrond passed his hand through the air again. The creases in his brow deepened and for the first time Mel thought he looked old.

"Do you feel anything?" He asked, "Anything in the air or on your skin?"

Mel reached out a hand, her palm nearly, but not quite touching Elrond's own. She closed her eyes and waited for what felt like an eternity, but whatever she was supposed to be looking for wasn't there. She sighed and dropped her hand.

"Nothing."

"What about the trees? What do they say?"

Mel tugged the shawl closer about her and tilted her head to the side, listening.

"Not much." She answered, "They've been getting quieter lately."

Elrond let out a long sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, I was afraid of that." He murmured, almost to himself, "It is getting rather late."

"Late?" Mel asked, raising an eyebrow and trying to ignore the growing knot of unease in the pit of her stomach, "What are you talking about? We've barely gotten started."

"Not late in the day, Mel," Lord Elrond said, looking up and seeming to measure the effect his words had on her, "Late in the year. We are on the cusp of the winter solstice. We are also approaching the limits of my knowledge."

Mel felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. She swallowed and tried to keep down the breakfast that was threatening to come up her throat.

"What are you saying?"

Her voice sounded hollow in her ears.

Lord Elrond's face softened and his words were gentle, but it did not soften the blow.

"I'm saying that we need to consider the possibility that you might be with us longer than anticipated."

The air left Mel's lungs in a whoosh. Lord Elrond kept talking, but it was like he was speaking underwater.

I'm not giving up…

There are others who might…

Perhaps after the war …

This isn't the end…

I'm sorry…

But all she could hear, repeating on a loop in her mind was It's over… It's over… It's over…

And she couldn't stand there and listen to it anymore. She turned and she ran. Lord Elrond's voice followed her for a moment, but she soon outran it, though she couldn't outrun the voice in her head still chanting that terrible mantra.

Over… It's over… Lost and no way home…

She kept running, trying not to let tears blur her vision. She wouldn't cry. Not here at least. She needed… what did she need? Her mind was racing, thoughts stumbling over each other, things that she hadn't allowed herself to think about in so long. TV, heaters, A/C, cars, computers, her crappy job, her cellphone, her sisters, her idiot dad…

She ran and she ran, but she couldn't run fast enough or far enough. She was stuck. She was lost. She was never going home. She…

She wanted her mother.

It was a strange feeling. Mel loved her mom more than anything, but she had never really wanted her as much as she did right at that moment. She wanted someone to comfort her, to tell her everything was going to be alright, to be the more responsible adult while she cried her eyes out and screamed about how unfair everything was.

So she ran to the next best thing she could find.

The little library was quiet. There was a hush that Mel could even hear echoing in her mind. No sweet voice calling her name. No childish laughter. Everything was very still. A shiver went up her spine.

"Rod?" she called aloud, desperate for something to fill the silence.

"Shhhh…" Rod's voice whispered gently, "It's almost time."

Mel slowly slipped back into the far corner. It was cold here, the stones radiating a chill into the air. She pulled her shawl tighter and sank into the chair she'd settled between Rod's pot and the window where Birch's branches peeked inside.

"Time for what?" she asked softly.

Rod rustled his dark, waxy leaves (his beautiful pink and white flowers had long since fallen away) and Mel got the sense that he was settling in, bracing himself.

"Time for sleep." He said.

A childish yawn made Mel turn toward the window. Birch's branches shuddered, scraping against the stone. Her leaves had been slowly drifting away for some time, leaving behind bare silver bark. They were almost all gone now; only a few stalwart patches of brittle yellow remained.

"Calenhiril…" the little girl said, sleepily, "I was waiting. I told Rod I could wait for you."

Mel smiled and reached out a hand to brush though the ends of the branches.

"I'm here, Birch," She said.

The little girl's giggle was heavy and drowsy and followed by another high-pitched yawn.

"Sleepy, Calenhiril…" Birch mumbled, "So sleepy…"

"Yes, I'm sure you are, child," Rod said gently, almost wistfully, "Why don't you say your farewells and go to sleep? You've had a very exciting year."

Birch sighed and her branches shuddered again, settling.

"Got big this year, didn't I Rod?" she mumbled, "Bigger than all the rest put together…"

"Yes, my sweet girl," Rod said softly, "Soon you'll touch the sky."

Birch hummed happily at that.

"Happy winter nap, Calenhiril." She said, "Happy winter nap, Rod."

"Happy winter nap, sweet Birchling." Rod whispered.

And then, she was gone.

It was jarring, the absence of that childish presence in Mel's head, and it scared her.

"Rod?" She asked tentatively, "What just happened?"

The rhododendron sighed and rustled his branches, as if collecting himself.

"She's gone to sleep," he said, "As all her kind do in the dark months."

"But she's… she's coming back, right?"

"Yes, of course," Rod sharply assured her, "When the sun warms the earth again she'll wake and be just as exhaustingly exuberant as ever, I imagine."

More than ever the bush's harsh words lacked conviction. Despite their differences, Rod cared for Birch as much as any parent had ever loved a child. They were each other's world in this isolated corner of the house.

"Wait… Rod, what about you? Don't you hibernate in the winter?"

"No." He said shortly, "My kind don't sleep as others do, especially in my environment."

Evergreen. Rod would be awake the entire time Birch slept. And he would be alone.

"Oh Rod…"

She reached out a hand and twined her fingers gently between his leaves. He sighed and she felt a gentle tremble beneath her touch.

"You are sad, Calenhiril."

Rod's voice was kind and gentle, and Mel felt tears prick her eyes, but she blinked them away.

"I… I've lost someone too." She said, "Several someones. And I don't know if I'll ever get back to them."

There was a long pause.

"The first year she went to sleep, I worried." Rod said finally, "She waited as long as she could, longer than she should have. She always waits too long, chatters until the last possible second."

Mel smiled. That sounded exactly like Birch.

"I worried that something might happen while she slept, that she might not come back. I had been alone for a long time before she took root, and I worried that I would be alone again. I spent all of the dark, silent months fretting almost ceaselessly. When the sun returned and the air warmed, she woke. And she cried because my leaves had all turned brown."

Rod paused, rustled for a bit.

"When it's quiet and dark and I start to worry, I think of that," he said, "The worrying doesn't bring her back. It only makes her sad when she is here. Calenhiril… the ones that you've lost…will your sadness return you to them?"

Mel felt a flash of irrational anger, despite the kind and gentle way in which the words were spoken. She took a deep breath and forced it aside. There was no reason to be angry at anyone but herself. She was acting like a child and she knew it. Her mother… her mother wouldn't want her to spend her time moping in some dusty library, wailing about the unfairness of it all. That wasn't who she was, who her mother had raised her to be. If there was something she could do, she should do it, no matter what it was.

There is something you are meant to do… but you will not find it unless you remain to search it out…

Boromir's voice echoed in her memory. That niggling bit of truth that he had seen, that she had ignored from the very first day, now seemed so glaringly obvious. There was something she was supposed to do. And she wasn't going to find it sitting here.

She ran her fingers over Rod's vibrant green leaves.

"Thank you, Rod." She said.

He shivered and she could feel a swell of contentment oozing through her fingertips.

"If you ever speak of this to Birch, I'll never hear the end of it…"

Mel laughed, and the sound echoed against the quiet stone.

"You're secret's safe with me." She said aloud.

Then she retrieved the book of Noldorin ancestry they had been reading, and they spent the rest of the day muddling through the ancient names of forgotten lords.

Chapter Text

Mel spent the rest of that day with the rhododendron offering what company and solace she could, but the next morning she woke early, determined to meet with Lord Elrond. She was surprised to find him in their usual meeting place at the usual time, and he seemed just as surprised to see her.

"I owe you an apology," Mel began as they walked along the garden path, "I was… I was really upset yesterday. I know I was acting like a child, I shouldn't have run out on you like that. I know you're doing everything that you can, and you certainly don't owe me anything. I know that, and I hope you know how grateful I am for all your help."

Elrond smiled kindly at her.

"I will do whatever I can to help you, Mel." He said, "You've become very dear to me, and a dear friend to my sons as well. I hope you know that you are welcome in my house for as long as you wish."

"That's… kind of the other reason I'm here." Mel said.

Lord Elrond inclined his head to her and waited. Mel took a breath and reviewed what she had been muddling through in her head.

"Well, I'm not going home anytime soon. I get that. I'm not okay with it, but I get it. And, I've been thinking, there has to be a reason I was brought here, to this specific place and time. I mean, stuff like this doesn't just happen randomly, right?"

The elf-lord nodded, but it was almost an absent motion and Mel wasn't sure if he was agreeing or just acknowledging that she was speaking. She hurried on.

"And if I was brought here for a reason and I'm stuck here anyway, I should probably be doing something worthwhile with my time, even if it's not necessarily the thing I was sent here to do, which it could be, I mean, we don't really know do we? That's the whole point, we don't know, and if I just sit on my hands and do nothing then I might never know and…"

Lord Elrond held up a hand and Mel fell silent. Her fingers were fidgeting with the ring on her finger and she forced them to still.

"Mel," he said, softly, "What are you asking of me?"

Mel took a breath and plunged in.

"The thing is, there is nothing more important going on right now than the Ring and the Fellowship. So I'm asking you for permission to join them."

For a moment, Lord Elrond said nothing. His face was a smooth blank, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Then he sighed and his shoulders lowered ever so slightly.

"Mel, please understand I know what you must be feeling right now." He said, "Searching for meaning and purpose at a time like this is natural. But we must be patient…"

"I have been patient." Mel interrupted, and Elrond raised an eyebrow, "As I'm very fond of reminding your sons, Lord Elrond, I am not an elf. I don't have a couple hundred years to wait around, hoping that eventually my way will be made clear. I want to do what I can, while I can."

"I know you want to help," Lord Elrond replied, and Mel had to fight not to bristle at the hint of condescension in his tone, "But that is precisely why I cannot allow this. You have grown close to several of those that have been chosen to accompany the Ringbearer. Their quest, as it now stands, wavers precariously on the border between victory and failure. You know this. And you must know that if you follow them, it alters everything, even if you cannot see it, even if it seems a small thing. You could change everything."

"Maybe that's what I'm supposed to do."

The words were so close to Boromir's that it actually shocked Mel that they were coming out of her mouth.

"Maybe… Maybe I'm supposed to change something. There has to be a reason that I'm here… There must be…"

Lord Elrond smiled sympathetically.

"Perhaps," he said, "But I cannot allow the risk, not with so much at stake. I'm sorry, Mel. Tomorrow evening, Frodo Baggins and his companions will leave Imladris, and you must say your farewells."

Mel felt as if she'd been punched in the gut. Tomorrow… They were leaving tomorrow. How had she let time get away from her so quickly? That meant it was December 24th. Christmas Eve. Her mom and her sisters would be sitting on the couch at home, listening to Bing Crosby croon "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas…", fake, plastic tree blinking and shimmering in the corner, "It's a Wonderful Life" flickering on the TV… And her friends were leaving her. Leaving her on Christmas. Legolas, Merry, Pippin, Boromir. Even Elladan and Elrohir, not now, but soon, soon they would all leave her to fight in the war that was coming, and she would be alone. Alone on Christmas…

Come on, Mel, keep it together. Don 't lose it now. Focus!

She barely heard the rest of what Lord Elrond said, something about a dinner in honor of the companions and the quest, a few more useless platitudes and flat apologies. She nodded in all the right places and in less than five minutes found herself taking her leave of the elf.

Mel went back to her room and shut the door. Her mind was racing. Okay, so getting Lord Elrond's permission had been a long shot. She had sort of known that going in. And besides, it was a bad idea anyway. She knew that. There was too much at stake, there were too many variables, she'd said as much to Boromir, her own arguments coming back to haunt her. If she interfered with the course of events as she knew them, no one could predict the effect it would have on the future of this world. Even the littlest thing could spell disaster.

So, the question was: what was she going to do now? She was a little out of her depth. But no matter what she told herself, Mel couldn't get the thought of out of her head, the niggling idea that had planted itself two months ago, that she wasn't meant to just sit idly by. She was meant to be doing something!

She must have dozed off, curled up on her bed and hugging a pillow, because a sharp rap on her door jerked her awake. She blinked blearily. The shadows had lengthened. It was nearly evening. She'd wasted an entire day of her life. She groaned and flopped back onto the bed, seriously considering ignoring whoever was knocking and pretending she wasn't in.

"Mel? You know I can hear you in there."

Legolas' muffled and yet distinctly amused voice made her groan again and toss a pillow over her face. Maybe she could just smother herself…

"Are you going to let me in, or am I meant to break the door down?"

Mel sighed, tossed the pillow away, slowly rolled off the bed, and shuffled toward the door, patting at her wild hair half-heartedly. Legolas stood in the hallway, looking impeccable in silver and forest-green, his hair pulled back and gleamingly straight, an amused smirk on his face. Mel hated him for the briefest of moments.

The elf looked her up and down, and then raised an eyebrow.

"You're not going to dinner looking like that are you?"

Mel scowled at him and tugged at her rumpled dress self-consciously, but before she could conjure up a scathing retort, Legolas pushed past her and threw open her wardrobe with a flourish.

"Now, let's see what we have…"

"Excuse me," Mel said, standing in the still open door with her hands on her hips, "I didn't ask for your help."

"Ah, sweet mellon-nîn," Legolas said, glancing over his shoulder, "You did not need to."

Despite the smirk still playing on his lips, there was something in his eyes that gave Mel pause, a hint of fond concern that underscored the playfulness of his tone. It still flabbergasted her sometimes, that Legolas really did consider her a friend. Some days it was surreal. Today, it was just… nice.

"Ah, here we are!" he exclaimed, pulling a dress from the back of the closet and holding it up for her inspection, raising an eyebrow.

"Well?" he asked, "Are you going to shut the door, or do you plan to change in front of all and sundry?"

Mel deflated a little and rolled her eyes, marching up to the elf and snatching the dress out of his hand.

"Out." She ordered, a smile twitching at the corner of her lips.

Legolas grinned.

"I will return for you shortly." He said, bowing and leaving her, shutting the door softly behind him.

Mel sighed and rubbed the green velvet of the dress between her fingers. If this was going to be her life, she might as well get used to it.

Less than an hour later, the party was in full swing. It was subdued, but it was definitely a party: wine flowed freely, people milled about, there were piles of food everywhere, music was played, songs were sung. Legolas and Mel joined the festivities and it took less than a minute for Merry and Pippin to appear, shouting her name, running and dodging across the room until they came skidding to a halt in front of her.

"Wow, Mel, you clean up nicely!" Pippin said.

Merry smacked the back of his cousin's head.

"Ow!"

"Idiot, is that any way to talk to a lady?"

Pippin rubbed his head and Mel tried to hide her smile, fiddling nervously with the gold cord that belted her dress and trying to resist the urge to keep touching her hair. She'd brushed it out which had been good enough for her, but Legolas had insisted on a little something more.

"I finnedh bain," he'd said in accented Sindarin, as his nimble fingers had quickly plaited two small braids at her temples, encircling her head like a crown, "Too pretty to leave to its own devices, mellon-nîn."

The hobbits soon had her by her elbows, dragging her to the tables, shoving food on her plate and a cup of wine in her hand, chattering all the while. They sat at a table with Frodo and Sam, with whom she exchanged polite hellos. Legolas sat with them, and she caught sight of Elladan and Elrohir, seated on the front dais by their father and they exchanged smiles. Mel recognized several others as well, Arwen seated with her brothers (and so dazzlingly beautiful that Mel's stomach clenched in a knot just looking at her), Aragorn engaged in conversation with a group of men dressed in the faded green and brown of the Dúnedain Rangers, and even Gimli, seated with his father, scowled at her momentarily across the room.

Mel was well into her first glass of wine and debating the wisdom of a second, when she glanced at the door and saw Boromir standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in a dark blue tunic embroidered with the White Tree in silver, his sword and the horn of Gondor at his side. He took in the room in a single glance, passing right over her without recognition. Mel's heart jumped and she took a nervous gulp of her wine. He swept the room again, and this time he spotted her. His head quirked to the side and a small smile twitched at the corners of his lips. She gave him a friendly little wave and started to stand, but suddenly he was surrounded by a group of elves, all talking excitedly. As they started to lead him away, he threw an apologetic glance at Mel who waved him off and turned back to the table, raising her wine glass for another sip.

Legolas was watching her, an enigmatic smile on his face. Mel forced herself to finish her slow sip of wine before she spoke, her voice completely neutral.

"What?"

The elf's smile widened and he pulled his own glass closer, swirling the contents lazily.

"I will never understand the race of Men," he said, "Your lives are so fleeting and yet…"

He trailed off, his eyes flicking somewhere over her shoulder, and then shrugged, tossing back the last of his wine and refilling his glass. Mel was wracking her brain for a suitable reply that didn't sound defensive (because she wasn't defensive, why should she be defensive?), but just then Pippin was tugging on her sleeve and asking if she would please explain cheese pizza again for Sam because he couldn't remember if the tomato sauce came before or after the cheese, and that started a whole new conversation about the merits of pizza toppings and Mel was just about to explain the concept of cheese-stuffed crust, when a throat was cleared softly behind her and all other words died on her lips.

Boromir was standing over her shoulder, his eyes crinkling with the effort it was taking him not to laugh. Mel grinned up at him.

"Did you decide to come join us?" She asked.

"If you'll allow me." He replied.

She waved at a seat next to her on the bench. Boromir grinned at the hobbits and ruffled Pippin's hair before he sat. Legolas slid a glass of wine across the table and Boromir took it with a gracious nod.

"You looked like you were under attack over there." Mel said, gesturing at the elves that had surrounded him earlier, "I thought I might have to come rescue you."

"They wished to know of the battles in the West." He said, "There wasn't much fresh news I could give them. Darkness creeps ever closer and there is little that can be done."

His eyes darkened and Mel buried herself in second glass of wine for a moment. She didn't like that look. It made her nervous. But then he glanced up and a smile brightened his face.

"But let's not talk of such things now. You look lovely, Melody."

Mel tried not to choke.

"You too… I mean, look nice… you look nice."

Her face was burning and she set down her wine glass. She clearly needed to lay off that stuff. Legolas was staring at her over the rim of his own glass, his eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter. She glared at him, but that only seemed to make it worse.

A hush fell over the hall and Lord Elrond stood to his feet.

"I believe we all know why we are gathered here this evening."

"To eat!" someone shouted from the back.

Everyone laughed, but the sound was full of a nervous tension. Elrond waited with an indulgent smile until the last titters had ceased.

"Tomorrow at dusk, the Ringbearer, Frodo Baggins, will depart this land," he continued, "Eight companions he shall have, to guide and protect him from the perils he will face. Among them, his faithful friend Samwise Gamgee and his cousins Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took."

The four hobbits stood and faced the applauding crowd. They looked grim and determined, maybe even a little frightened. Mel resisted the urge to tuck Pippin under her arm when he sat down next to her again.

"Traveling with them are Gandalf the Grey, Legolas, Prince of the realm of Mirkwood, Gimli son of Gloin, Aragorn son of Arathorn, and Boromir, son of Denethor."

Boromir stood stiffly beside her, his face stern and distant. Mel felt her stomach drop. She shuddered at the memory of what was to happen to him. It made her stomach churn until she could no longer look at the food on the table without feeling sick. Her face was on fire and she felt stifled by the crowd that had suddenly gathered around their table, murmuring well-wishes and encouragement. She couldn't breathe. She needed out. She pushed through the moving bodies and managed to slip out the door into the hallway without anyone noticing. It still felt incredibly hot. She just needed to breathe.

She made it outside without incident and inhaled deeply of the cold night air. Everything inside her loosened, the knots in her stomach, the tension in her shoulders, the tightness in her chest. This garden was familiar, as were the soft voices in her head. Most of the trees were "asleep" as Rod had put it, but there was still a steady murmur from a group of relatively small pine trees in the far corner that called themselves collectively "The Pine Grove" (though Mel wasn't really sure if there were enough of them to technically constitute a grove), and that was where Mel headed, slipping beneath the branches and breathing deeply of the trees' green, woodsy scent.

"Calenhiril…" they whispered in her mind, echoing one another in various tones, "Calenhiril, why are you sad? Calenhiril, what can we do; how can we help?"

She sighed and sat down cross-legged in the center of the group, the clear sky above her, the trees all around.

"There's nothing you can do." She answered, "I'm not sad. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do."

The trees murmured amongst themselves, until one of them spoke up timidly.

"But Calenhiril, you are sad." He said.

Mel sighed and flopped onto her back. The image of Boromir at Amon-hen played out to her again, a terrible loop of slow, horrifying detail.

"Yeah," she said, "I guess you're right. I am sad. I'm also a pathetic excuse for a human being who has no right to be here. Yavanna, what were you thinking?"

The trees rustled around her, murmuring and whispering in an indistinguishable hush. Mel shut her eyes, but that left her with only her imagination which was somehow worse, and she quickly opened them again. The night was clear and the stars were bright carpets of scattered light in the sky. She wondered which was Eärendil, the only star in this world that she knew. She took a deep breath, trying to internalize the stillness in the air.

"Calenhiril," The timid voice spoke again, "Calenhiril, there is a man, a man in the garden. I think he is looking for you."

Mel felt her chest constrict, but she forced herself to stay still. Maybe whoever it was would just…

"He's walking this way."

Damn.

She closed her eyes and waited, listening to the sound of boots in the grass and the scraping of tree bark.

"There you are."

She opened her eyes. Boromir was leaning against one of the pines, arms folded and a small smile on his lips.

"I've been looking for you." He said.

"I know." She replied, without thinking.

An odd look passed over his face, but Mel ignored it, flopping her head back into the grass and staring up at the stars.

"You'll ruin that beautiful dress, you know."

"Maybe. It could be worse. I hear orc blood never comes out."

She heard him huff a laugh and she smiled.

"You laugh more than I thought you would."

The words slipped out of her mouth before she could think them through, and she bit her tongue, inwardly cursing her stupidity.

"Perhaps that is because you bring more humor to my life."

Mel kept her eyes firmly on the sky above her. A lump was forming in her throat and she was afraid she might choke on it. She tried to swallow it down, but it wouldn't budge.

"What troubles you, Melody?" he asked, his voice quiet, "I haven't seen you these past two days, and tonight you seem so… lost. More lost even than that first day I found you wandering the forest."

"It's nothing," she said, "I'm fine."

"Melody, you are a horrible liar." He said, a hint of amusement in his tone, "It might be endearing if I were watching you attempt it with someone else. But I am your friend… at least, I hope we are friends, and I worry about you, now that…"

He paused.

"I just want to know that you're going to be alright."

She sighed and propped herself up on her elbows so she could look at him. His eyes were cast on the ground and he was pushing at a clump of pine needles with the toe of his boot.

"I'm fine," she emphasized, and before he could protest she added, "It's you I'm worried about."

Boromir opened his mouth as if to speak, but then he closed it again and paused a moment, his head tilted curiously. Mel realized almost immediately that she had misspoken and she found herself scrambling to recover.

"I mean, you know, all of you, this fellowship thing, I'm worried about you guys, and I've been thinking about what you said, ever since Elrond said he can't send me home and I just…"

"What?"

Boromir's whole body straightened stiffly and his eyes burned into her. Mel nearly flinched away. Oh, right… she hadn't told him. She hadn't told anyone.

"He…"

Mel's voice cracked. She swallowed and tried again.

"We had a talk. A couple days ago. He's not giving up, he just… He told me to prepare for the possibility that I might be in for an… extended stay."

Boromir closed his eyes and he sagged back against the tree once more, almost deflating.

"Oh Melody…" he said, softly, gently, and Mel didn't think she could handle that right now, so she plunged ahead as if she hadn't heard him.

"So, anyway, since then I've been thinking a lot about what you said, about figuring out why I'm here, that there has to be a reason, right? And I don't think it's here, in Rivendell, but Lord Elrond says I can't go with you, which is where all the action is, so, I just, I don't really know what to do with myself, and I'm just stuck worrying uselessly, which really isn't my style. I'm going to know everything that is happening to you, and I won't be able to do a damn thing about it."

She flopped back into the grass and gave a little frustrated huff.

"Perhaps it's for the best," Boromir said, carefully choosing his words, "After all, you yourself said that it wouldn't be wise to change the history of our world."

"And you told me maybe that was why I'm here in the first place."

Mel lifted her head just enough to give Boromir a smirk.

"Funny how we've both hopped the fence on the issue isn't it? Not that it matters. I won't be at the only place I would want history to change."

"Which is?"

He was smirking mischievously and Mel's smile widened before she dropped her head back onto the grass.

"Nice try. But I wouldn't want to ruin your little adventure."

She could almost hear his shrug.

"Fair enough."

Silence fell between them and Mel tried to think of something to fill it before Boromir attempted to revisit the issue of her more permanent resident status, with soft words and compassion that she wasn't ready to hear without tears.

"Boromir, where is Eärendil?"

She heard the sound of his tunic rubbing against the tree bark and the shuffle of his boots.

"There."

She lifted her head to glance at him. He was looking into the sky, pointing in a vaguely upwards direction. She rolled her eyes and let her head flop back into the grass.

"Oh god, thanks, that was so incredibly helpful…" she said dryly.

She heard him sigh and then suddenly he dropped down onto the grass beside her, sprawled out on his back, shoulders touching. He grabbed her hand and extended it, guiding her gaze above them and just slightly to the left.

"Right there," He murmured, "The star of Eärendil the Mariner, born of the light of the Silmaril which he risked all to carry beyond the Circles of the World."

Mel smiled. She could see it now. And now that she had seen it, she knew that she would not lose it. She closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. She tried to memorize how this felt, the warmth of Boromir's arm against hers, the smell of the grass and the pine needles, the stillness in the air between them.

"I'll come back for you, Melody."

Boromir's voice was soft and gentle and Mel closed her eyes to keep from allowing her emotions to take over. She needed to breathe; she had to remember to breathe.

"When this is over. I'll come back and I'll take you to my city, and anywhere else you want to go. We'll explore the whole of Middle-Earth if you wish it."

A huff of laughter escaped her and she tried to use that as an excuse to take a deep ragged breath.

"I'd… I'd like that." She said finally, "I really would."

There was another silence. Mel was the one who broke it.

"Boromir?" she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Are you scared?"

He stiffened beside her and didn't answer for a moment. Mel turned her head to look at him. His eyes were wide as he stared into the vastness of the sky.

"More than you can imagine." He whispered.

He turned his head and met her eyes. He looked as if he were searching her for something, asking questions that he couldn't voice and she couldn't answer.

"What do you know, Melody?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat and gave a little shrug.

"Everything."

Boromir smiled and Mel's heart fluttered. She stomped down on it viciously and reminded herself once again to breathe.

"No," he said, "You don't know everything. You just think that you do."

Mel opened her mouth to respond, but the words stuck in her throat.

I know enough...

Instead, she sat up, giving herself space to think.

"They're probably sending out a search party by now."

Boromir sat up too, hooking his arms around his knees. Mel pointedly did not look at him, afraid of what she might see.

"That could very well be. I did tell Legolas that once I found you, I would drag you back to the party with all speed. But then, you are a hard woman to drag anywhere."

Mel glanced at him without really meaning to. He was grinning at her and he was just himself. No future hanging over him. He got to his feet and offered her his hand.

"Come. Let's see if the hobbits have in fact eaten all the food in Rivendell."

Mel grinned and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

"I wouldn't put it past them."

Chapter Text

She was in the woods.

The sun filtering through the leaves told her it was afternoon. Chunks of rock jutted up from the forest floor, some kind of ruins that she felt she should be able to place, but she couldn't remember… There was something… something so important…

No time for that now. The battle was underway and she ran, ran toward the sounds in the distance, the shouts, the metal clashes. Three short horn blasts echoed in the air and that made her run faster, doom and certain disaster right on her heels.

Something was wrong. Something was so very wrong...

The trees whispered all around her, rustling and creaking in a wind that didn't exist.

"Run Calenhiril, run, run. Hurry, hurry, you're late, you're far too late…"

She burst into a clearing filled with orcs, coming from all directions, charging toward the center. Toward Boromir. Standing tall and fighting for his life. She knew where she was now. Amon Hen, the last chapter, the last scene…

And she wasn't ready.

"Oh no…" she pleaded, "No, please, not here. Anywhere but here."

She saw the Uruk-hai captain, striding down the hill with an air of commanding arrogance, ignoring the frenzy all around him, his eyes fixed, a grim smile twisting his black features. Her mind was screaming at her to do something, anything , but her body was frozen, her vocal cords paralyzed. She could only watch in agony as three black arrows left his bow and finally brought Boromir staggering to his knees. The orcs ran past, no longer afraid of him. She could vaguely hear the hobbits screaming. She had fallen to the forest floor, her hands clutching at dirt and rotting leaves, with no memory of how she had gotten there.

The trees were still whispering.

"…too late, too late, too late…"

Lurtz paused in front of Boromir, pulled back his bow string one last time. And Boromir, brave, foolish, proud Boromir, raised his head and looked him in the eye, not willing to give up, to surrender, even here at the end. Mel squeezed her eyes shut, not able to watch, knowing she had failed him, she had done this, she had let him go…

When she finally found her voice, she screamed…

…and it was that scream that woke her, thrashing against twisted bed sheets, panting for breath. She blinked against the bright light of the sun shining through her open windows. It was late morning. She was in Rivendell, in her own bed, in her own room. She sighed and pushed her tangled hair out of her face.

I can't do this… she thought.

Two more months of…

I can't do this…

She rolled out of bed, bathed and dressed, not bothering with any of the dresses in her closet, instead choosing one of her sparring outfits, brown pants, a white shirt, and black boots (she still missed her tennis shoes, but they had disappeared along with the rest of her clothes shortly after her arrival). She threw her still-damp hair into a ponytail and headed toward the dining hall, her mind still in a fog. She was halfway through her breakfast (with no concrete recollection of having sat down or even what she was eating) when she finally realized that someone was talking to her.

"Mel?"

She swallowed whatever it was she had been chewing and looked up. Legolas had sat down next to her and was regarding her with narrowed eyes, his face lined with concern.

"Mel, are you alright? You don't look well."

Mel took a moment to really look at the elf for the first time that morning. He was dressed in traveling clothes, rough browns and forest greens, no trace of the fine fabrics of his princely station to be seen. Mel dropped her eyes back to her bowl and swirled her spoon in her porridge.

"I'm okay," she said, "I just had a nightmare, didn't sleep well, that's all."

"A nightmare?"

She raised her eyes to reassure him, but the words died on her lips. Just over his shoulder, she watched Boromir step into the dining hall, and what little she had eaten threatened to come back up her throat. She couldn't see him anymore. All she could see was the blood and the dirt and the arrow shafts, and that face, that stubborn, proud face that refused to bow, refused to surrender, refused to give in to his fate…

There is something you are meant to do…

Mel shot to her feet, adrenaline pulsing through her, making her heart pound. Legolas jumped, his eyes wide.

"Mel?"

"I gotta go." She said, breathless with anticipation of the completely idiotic thing she was considering, "Sorry, I just… I gotta go."

She squeezed Legolas' shoulder absently, her mind racing with the possibility...

"Na lû, mellon-nîn." She said, absently practicing one of the phrases the twins used over and over.

She tried to slip away, but Legolas grabbed her wrist and held her there, his face alight with a brilliant smile.

"In all the time we have known each other, that is the first time you've called me your friend." He said.

Mel paused, surprised. The words had just slipped off her tongue. He had been using them with her for so long, she hadn't realized... But they were, weren't they? Sometime in the last few weeks, Legolas had transformed, so slowly that she hadn't even realized it was happening until this moment. He was no longer a character in a book, a prince in a fairy tale. Now, when she looked at him, she just saw her friend. They really were friends now. Why had it taken so long for her to see it? To believe it?

He gripped her hand in both of his and held it tightly.

"Anthedh vîr mi 'uren," he said emphatically, that giddy smile still plastered on his face.

His enthusiasm was infectious, and Mel grinned despite herself.

"You'll have to teach me what that means later, I really gotta go." She said, tugging her hand free and heading for the door.

"Your accent is still atrocious!" Legolas called after her, laughter in his voice.

It turned out, sneaking around wasn't nearly as hard as the spy movies made it out to be. Keep your head up and act like you were supposed to be there and no one really questioned you. Of course, that could have just been Mel taking advantage of the trusting nature of the Imladris elves, but she wasn't really ready to split hairs.

She stuffed the spoils of her excursions into a smallish sized pack, cataloging as she went. Some food from the kitchens (what she could snag when no one was looking), a water skin, a bedroll, and a couple changes of clothes, with plenty of room to spare. She was still missing a traveling cloak (the air was already chilly and she would definitely need it if she made it as far as Caradhras), and she planned to make another run on the kitchens before the day was out, maybe two if she could swing it.

Humming nervously, Mel tugged the pack closed and tossed a blanket over its lumpy form on her bed, before heading out in search of the last of her supplies…

…and nearly ran straight into the twins standing just outside her door, arms crossed and identical looks of disapproval on their faces. Before Mel even had a chance to get her mouth open she had a brother on each elbow shoving her back through the open doorway and shutting it firmly behind them before turning around, still wearing their disapproving scowls. Mel crossed her arms and gave them her best glare.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?"

The brothers exchanged a look.

"You can begin by telling us what exactly it is that you think you are doing." Elrohir said.

Before Mel could reply, Elladan added, "And don't bother denying it. We've been following you all day."

At which point, the elf strolled over to her bed and tossed aside the blanket that had poorly concealed her pack. Mel winced, but didn't speak.

"So," he said, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, "Care to tell us where you're going, Mel?"

Mel opened her mouth, but then closed it again when no sound came out. After a few desperate seconds of panic, she managed to latch on to the only thing she could think of that wouldn't further incriminate her.

"You… wait, what do you mean you've been following me?"

The twins did a perfectly synchronized eye-roll.

"Father told us what happened." Elrohir said.

"About you being stranded, essentially." Elladan clarified.

"He told us so we would keep an eye on you."

"Make sure you didn't do anything foolish."

"Fortunately for you, our idea of what's foolish and his-"

"-are two very different things."

It took a moment for Mel to comprehend what the brothers were saying to her. And what it meant. Even with the identical expressions of mischievous deviance on their faces, Mel still wasn't quite sure she believed it. However, her silent skepticism didn't slow the twins down in the slightest. Elrohir strode to the other side of her bed and together the brothers opened her pack and began digging haphazardly through the contents.

"Hey!" Mel exclaimed indignantly, taking a couple involuntarily steps.

The twins ignored her, muttering together in a strange mix of Sindarin and Westron that Mel found almost impossible to follow.

"Where is your cloak?" Elrohir asked without looking up from his unfolding and refolding of her bedroll.

"I don't have one yet."

Both brothers paused and looked up at her with one raised eyebrow each. Mel crossed her arms and told herself that it wasn't unnerving at all.

"I was on my way to find something, before I was so rudely interrupted…"

Elrohir hung his head with a weary sigh, muttering under his breath.

"Nae, sevin ú-estel…"

Elladan clapped his brother on the shoulder with a grin.

"Come now, hanar, it is not so bad as that!" he said cheerfully, "We are here to help after all!"

"And not a moment too soon," Elrohir said, tucking the refolded bedding back into the pack with a precision that Mel wasn't sure was entirely necessary, "Come."

And without warning, Mel was swept back into the hall, Elrohir leading the way, Elladan keeping a grip on her arm so they didn't lose her in the twists and turns of the corridors. Because they certainly would have. Their legs were much longer than hers and they both walked with a determined purpose that brooked no argument or questions. Mel didn't even bother to struggle.

They stopped in front of a plain door, indistinguishable from the dozens of other doors they'd passed on the way, and Elrohir opened it, motioning his brother and Mel inside. Mel shouldn't have been surprised to find herself surrounded by the finest fabrics she had ever seen in her life, but somehow the sight still managed to take her breath away. She ran her fingers gently over the different materials as the brothers began rummaging carelessly through the cloaks, inspecting and discarding various specimens with barely a glance, clearly looking for something in particular.

Finally, Elrohir gave a cry of triumph and swept one cloak off the rack with a flourish.

"Yes, this one!" he said, shaking it out and tossing it to Mel, who nearly missed it altogether and had to scramble to keep hold of the fabric, "Try it on."

The green wool was not what Mel had expected at all. It was soft, and dense, and even if it had been capable of producing an itch against her skin (which she doubted), the thick white fur that comprised the inner lining was more than enough of a protective barrier. She gently traced the intricate embroidered vines of gold thread at the corners of the hem and collar, and the equally beautiful gold leaves that clasped the throat.

Mel looked up and raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"You're joking, right?"

Elrohir gave her a pleased smirk, but didn't respond. Mel ran a hand longingly down the length of the fabric and then handed it back.

"Elrohir, there is no way I'm taking this," She said, "We're going into some of the roughest, dirtiest, darkest places imaginable, I can't just…"

Elrohir took the cloak from her hands and without warning tossed it over her shoulders, working the clasp with deft fingers and smoothing the shoulders.

"Then you had best have something to keep the darkness at bay," He murmured, bumping her chin fondly, "It is a gift, vinimë. Please take it."

Mel fidgeted with the hem of the cloak and bit her bottom lip, on the verge of insisting that he choose something else, something plain, something she was less likely to ruin. But she was incapable of going against such gentle, kind insistence.

"Alright fine," she said finally, rolling her eyes and grinning, "I'll take it. But if it gets ruined I'm not taking responsibility for it."

Elrohir's smile widened and his eyes twinkled mischievously.

"No danger of that, I think." He said cryptically, unclasping the cloak and folding it carefully over one arm.

"And now it is my turn!" Elladan exclaimed, grabbing Mel's arm and jerking her back out into the hallway, "Come, Mel!"

Another maze of halls flashed by and Mel found herself shoved inside another small room, the light of a small lamp on the wall glinting off piles of metal strewn everywhere. Weapons storage. There were piles of helms and chain mail and shields, in various sizes and shapes, some plain, some engraved, some encrusted with jewels that glittered and threw colored reflections onto the walls, which were covered in tangles of bows and quivers stuffed with arrows. Swords were stacked in clusters in the corners of the room and Elladan made a beeline for the nearest group, sifting through the different sizes and shapes, some sheathed, some not. Mel let her eyes wander as Elrohir went to help his brother separate and sort through the mess, her hands reaching out and running along the length of a long bow, touching the feathered nocks of the arrows, tracing a long score mark along the length of a rectangular shield that was almost as tall as she was.

If they could speak, she wondered, what wonderful things they might tell me. She twisted the Yavannacor around her finger as she contemplated that notion. She might have said the same thing of trees back home. Here, everything was different.

Elladan pressed something into her fidgeting hand, bringing her back from her thoughts and impending homesickness. She looked down at the hilt of the sword, it's brown, almost bark-like grip engraved with golden leafy vines twisted in an elaborate pattern all the way around. It fit comfortably in her hand and she carefully tugged down the leather sheathe to see the gleam of steel peeking through.

"Try it." Elladan insisted, stepping back to give her room.

Mel stared at him and then around the tiny room, thinking of all the noise it would make when she inevitably knocked something over, or lost her balance and fell into a precarious pile of… whatever. But Elladan only grinned and Elrohir was no better, so she sighed and did as she was told. She got into one of the beginning stances Elladan had taught her, and began an easy warm-up exercise. The blade was perfectly balanced, swinging easily in her hand, like an extension of her arm. She forgot about the close quarters, her nerves, her self-imposed mission, all her concentration centered on the beautiful sword in her hand. She twisted and turned, never missing a step, and when she finished, she sighed and let her eyes close for a moment, still feeling the blade singing with vibration all the way up her arm. When she opened them again, Elladan was nearly bouncing with anticipation.

"So?"

She paused and lifted the sword again to eye level, letting the light play over the steel. Then, she smiled.

"It'll do." She whispered.

"Good!" Elladan said, "I wasn't going to let you say no anyway."

"I figured as much." Mel replied, letting Elladan take the sword back and return it to the sheathe, which he then buckled around her waist, making her yelp.

"You have to try it on." He explained as he tightened the strap and stepped back to survey his work, "You have a good pair of boots right?"

"Oh, I almost forgot boots!" Elrohir exclaimed.

"I have boots!" Mel said quickly, holding up her hands to ward off her elven benefactors if need be, "No more gifts, guys, seriously! Nothing that you're doing is making any sense! Why would you help me? Your dad specifically said…"

"Ada always thinks he knows best," Elrohir said, "He is good and wise and understands the dangers of the world."

"But that also makes him cautious," Elladan said, "He listens to his head now, more often than his heart."

"It was not always so," Elrohir said, his eyes suddenly far away and sad.

"No," Elladan agreed, "Not always. But as of late, his judgment has been… clouded, I think."

"And there is something about you, Mel," Elrohir said, "I sensed it the first day our paths crossed. You are meant for more than… this."

He waved his hand vaguely in the air and Elladan nodded.

"We might not know if your fate is tied with that of the Ring," Elladan said, "But you are certainly determined to accompany our band of adventurers and we do not believe you should be hindered if you feel that is your path."

"Are you sure this is your path, mellon-nîn?" Elrohir asked.

His eyes bored into her with such intensity that Mel could barely hold his gaze. She shifted uncomfortably, her grip tightening on the sword now slung on her hip, a strange weight that made her feel slightly off balance. And for just a moment, she questioned her resolve.

But then she remembered her dream. The look on Boromir's face as he knelt in the dirt and the blood, that determination and sheer force of will, the defiance and pride that glinted in his eyes while she stood back and did nothing, helpless, voiceless. She straightened her shoulders and planted her feet more firmly underneath her.

"I have to try," she said, "I have to do something."

The twins exchanged an unreadable look, not quite pleased, but almost reluctantly resolved.

"Come then," Elladan said, slipping an arm through hers, "Let's see what else we can steal you from the kitchens. Your provisions were sorely lacking if you plan to make it out of the valley."

Elrohir smiled and caught her other elbow and together the three of them went to raid the pantries of Imladris.

Boromir glanced up from adjusting a strap on the pony's pack and caught sight of Melody rushing down the steps toward them. She was dressed in the clothes she wore to practice her sword work with Lord Elrond's sons, the plain cotton shirt and brown trousers that she insisted she felt most comfortable in. She looked flushed and perhaps a bit frazzled, wisps of hair coming loose from her hair band and dancing in the late afternoon sun. Had the twins kept her working so late? Today of all days? He had not seen her at all and he had hoped… Well, no matter now, she was here and she was making her way toward him, slipping insistently through the group of elves that had gathered to wish them well on their journey. He straightened and met her small smile with one of his own.

"I was afraid I might not catch you," she said breathlessly, brushing her hair back out of her eyes and bouncing on her toes a few times before she seemed to realize what she was doing and stopped, a self-conscious, bashful look on her face.

"I had hoped to see you before, but I could not find you," Boromir answered, his fingers anxiously worrying the silver tip of the horn that hung at his side.

"Well, I'm here now," she said, a grin breaking out across her face before she suppressed it hurriedly, adopting a more somber look, "I, um, I just wanted to see you. You know, before…"

Her eyes darted behind his shoulder, toward the archway that led out of the courtyard and into the woods of the valley beyond.

"Yes," he said, trying to find words, but not having any luck.

"Yeah," Melody echoed, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, and Boromir cursed his lack of preparation. He should have had something to say to her, some sort of reassurance or comfort, but everything he thought to say seemed flat and meaningless, and he could not give her empty words.

After several seconds, a smile grew on Melody's face once more.

"Well," she said.

Then she bounced up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. The gesture surprised him, but not for long, his arms wrapping her up almost without thought, as if the motion were natural to him. He closed his eyes and breathed in, feeling a little of his anxiety seep away. She smelled faintly of roses.

"See you soon, Boromir," she whispered.

He blinked and stepped back, searching her face, but there was no trace of the mischievous laughter that her tone had suggested he might find there. Instead she brushed a lock of hair back from his face and patted his cheek almost playfully. Then she skipped back out of his reach before he had a chance to think of anything more to say. And there was so much he had wanted to say, to promise her again that he would come back for her, that he would not leave her languishing in this place forever, with no home and no hope of exploring this world that she loved so much.

But it was too late now, for Lord Elrond was here and wishing them a safe journey, and then they were filing out of the courtyard, the wizard and the halfling leading the way through the darkening trees. He glanced back once before he entered the shadow of the archway, but Melody was already gone. Too late. Boromir shook his head, trying to clear away the lingering regret, and followed the fellowship away from Rivendell and into the forest.

Not too long after, before the fellowship had even left the long afternoon shadows of Rivendell behind, a green clad figure paced the edge of the walls that held back the trees of the valley from the comforts of the Last Homely House. The figure finally chose a low point in the barricade and a moment later a leafy vine shot out of the cluster of greenery at the wall's base, climbing up and over the top before anchoring itself into the cracks in the masonry. The figure tugged on the vine, testing that the hold was firm. Then, with a quick glance to make sure she was alone, Mel scrambled up the wall, dropped to the other side, and disappeared into the gathering dusk.

Chapter Text

Mel settled onto the forest floor and took a bite out of an apple. The Fellowship's campfire danced merrily through the trees ahead, but she remained safely cloaked in darkness a good distance away. She had been following them for two days and no one seemed to have noticed. That was good. She wanted to be as far away from Rivendell as possible when they inevitably discovered her.

Mel finished the apple and took a swig from her water skin, glancing up at the sky. It was cloudy, no stars or moon shone through the tree branches. That was good too. Tonight she would try to sneak up and catch whatever conversation she could, to see if there were any course or pacing changes she needed to know about. She was grateful for the unseasonably warm breeze that brushed her skin as she shed her cloak and folded it neatly into her bag. After some thought, she unbuckled her sword as well. This was a stealth mission after all and the Fellowship weren't her enemy. She briefly considered leaving her boots behind, remembering how light and sneaky she had felt running barefoot through the woods around her house as a kid. But she only had to imagine the pain of removing a porcupine's worth of thorns and stickers from her feet to quickly scrap that idea. Safety before stealth after all.

She took her time stepping through the underbrush, forcing the slow, measured placement of her feet, well aware that any unusual or sudden sounds would alert Legolas' sharp ears. She slipped between the tree trunks, using them for protection from the fire's revealing glow until finally she got within earshot, pressing her back against the wide trunk of a yew tree and barely daring to breathe as she strained to hear what was being said.

"If the pass is open, we will take the Gap of Rohan." Gandalf murmured in his distinct gravelly voice.

"And from there turn east? There are several outposts where we might find rest and supplies along the road toward Gondor."

That was Boromir's voice. A smile tugged at Mel's lips.

"Gondor might be the course we will take, but let us see if the pass is open before we make any other plans."

"And what if it is not open?" Gimli asked gruffly, "There are paths under the mountain if we cannot find our way around."

Moria. Mel shivered and the yew tree shivered with her, the stiff leaves rattling as if in a soft wind. But there was no wind. Mel desperately pressed a hand to the trunk and shut her eyes, silently urging for stillness and quiet. The slightest movement might give her away. The tree subsided and it didn't seem like anyone had noticed, but the conversation had moved on while she'd been distracted.

"The little ones might fall behind, Gandalf," Legolas murmured with a hint of concern, "I have noticed how easily they tire."

"The hobbits are tougher than even they know. They will keep up." Gandalf reassured him.

"Still," Boromir said, his voice low and measured, "Slowing the pace might be beneficial… don't you think?"

There was a strange pause. Mel bit her lip. Did Boromir sound closer? Or had he only shifted positions to be better heard by the others?

"Yes… perhaps." Gandalf said finally.

Mel took a slow breath through her nose and prepared to move. She had learned everything she could tonight, and she needed to slip away while their voices could still cover her movement through the…

A gloved hand clapped over her mouth, pinning her to the tree trunk and she panicked, her mind screaming.

"Too soon, not yet, not yet! "

Out of nowhere, a bramble shot out of the ground by her feet and latched on to the gloved wrist, digging its long thorns through the thick leather and into skin. There was a pained yelp and Mel slipped free as the branches of the yew tree groaned and twisted, presumably to hold her attacker as she darted into the cover of the darkened woods.

"Melody?"

Boromir's strained, baffled voice pulled her up short. Of course he knew it was her, who else would it be? In her panic, she had completely given herself away. God, she was such an idiot…

"For gods' sake… Melody, will you call off your blasted plants?" he said, sounding more bemused than angry.

She sighed and closed her eyes, reaching out to the tree and the bramble with her mind.

"That's enough," she murmured soothingly, "No more. It's alright."

She heard the creaking of the yew tree as his branches unraveled and shuddered back into place, but the bramble resisted, a high pitched, indignant voice piercing her thoughts.

"Calenhiril, he hurt you! He frightened you! Why would you let him go?"

Mel felt the bramble try to tighten its grip and she clenched her fists, forcing her thoughts toward the thorny vine.

"I said, no more."

There was a breath's worth of pause. Then the bramble relaxed, albeit with a distinct sense of reluctance, and Mel felt it slither back into the undergrowth. She took a deep breath and stretched out her fingers, resisting the urge to shake tension out of her hands. Then she squared her shoulders and turned to face the suspiciously quiet campsite.

Boromir caught her eye first, rotating a shoulder and inspecting his ungloved wrist, spotted with drops of red that gleamed in the firelight. A pang of guilt clenched her chest and she took two steps toward him before she paused, fidgeting on the edge of the fire's glow.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice much smaller than she'd hoped it would be.

Boromir glanced up and his lips twitched in what might have been a smirk if it hadn't disappeared so quickly.

"You certainly took your time about it," he said, "I thought for a moment I might lose my hand to a briar, and how would I explain that?"

"Sorry," Mel said, cringing and waving in the general direction of the withdrawn bramble, "Panic got the best of me, I guess."

"What are you even doing out here?" he asked.

"Yes, what exactly are you doing out here?" Gandalf echoed, his gruff, irritated voice drawing Mel's gaze to the rest of the camp.

They were all staring at her, with expressions ranging from mischievous delight (Merry and Pippin looked like both their birthdays had come early) to furious outrage (Mel had to admit that Gimli's glower was very impressive).

Mel opened her mouth, and words that she had not planned came falling out.

"I followed you."

Legolas snorted (the most undignified sound Mel thought she'd ever heard him make), but quickly smothered any other hint of amusement with his hand when Gandalf turned his scowl in the elf's direction.

"Clearly," Gandalf said dryly, "But now it is time to put an end to your little adventure. You've had quite enough excitement and I'm sure Lord Elrond is quite worried about you…"

"Oh I doubt it," Mel said, "I'm sure his sons have told him what happened to me by now."

A peal of laughter escaped Legolas.

"Of course, it was them!" he said, "Of course! I should have known…"

"Never the less," Gandalf snapped, glowering at the elf-prince until his giggles died down again, "You should not be here, Melody. You know very well the danger that we face. I must insist that you return at once."

"I don't think so."

Gandalf's bushy brows shot up under his hat and Mel almost cringed, but resisted the urge.

"Pardon me?"

"I'm not going back," She said, forging ahead even though she thought her insides might be turning to mush, "And you can't force me without dragging me back yourself, kicking and screaming. We both know you can't afford the delay. You can't prevent me from following along either, now that I'm out here. I don't really see what kind of choices you have."

She crossed her arms (mostly to hide the fact that she was shaking) and met the wizard's stare for a full five seconds that felt like a breathless eternity.

"If I might interject," Boromir said hesitantly, "She does possess a rather unique set of skills. We've all seen her power at work. It might prove useful."

Gandalf hmphed and looked around the camp. The hobbits were all bunched together, watching the proceedings with wide eyes. Legolas still looked as if he would fall over laughing, given the opportunity. Gimli was puffing on a pipe and glaring fiercely in Mel's general direction. And Aragorn… well, he didn't even seem interested, sharpening a knife and apparently oblivious or unconcerned or both.

Gandalf's eyes narrowed, and then he sighed, his shoulders sagging, and rolled his eyes skyward.

"Why I was ever put on this path will forever be a mystery to me," he muttered, "Very well, Melody, you have made your point."

"Wait just a moment!" Gimli exclaimed, leaping to his feet and waving his pipe in the air, "Do you mean to say we are allowing her to stay?!"

"As has been pointed out, it seems we have little choice in the matter." Gandalf grumbled from under his hat, pulling his own pipe out of his sleeve and lighting it with a twitch of his fingers.

"Leave her here!" Gimli shouted, making Mel involuntarily wince, "Tie her to one of her precious trees, and good riddance!"

"I for one am not willing to leave a lady bound and helpless in the wilderness," Legolas said, his tone playful but sharp.

"Nor I," agreed Boromir, his eyes glinting, "You would be wise not to mention it again, dwarf."

Gimli's glare flitted back and forth between them for a long moment, and then he threw up his hands with a wordless sound of frustration and stomped into the woods. Mel bit her lip as she watched him storm off. This was not going to be the most pleasant trip. But she shook off her anxiety once he was gone and plastered a cheerful smile on her face.

"Right!" she said, her voice forcibly chipper, "I'll just go grab my stuff then."

"What?" Boromir asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"My stuff," Mel said, jerking a thumb back into the woods, "What I brought with me, food, water, you know, stuff. Did you think I just ran out of Rivendell with nothing but the clothes on my back?"

"The thought had crossed my mind." Boromir said, smirking.

Mel rolled her eyes.

"I'll just be a minute." She said, and then slipped into the trees before anyone could protest.

She managed to make it all the way back to her tiny campsite before the adrenaline really hit her. She stopped in the middle of the clearing and took a few deep breaths, finally allowing her hands to shake and her knees to tremble under her. It was okay. Everything was okay. She had made it. And Gandalf hadn't even threatened to turn her into a toad or anything. She could do this. Do what, she wasn't exactly sure, but whatever it was, she could totally do it.

After a few minutes the adrenaline worked its way out of her system and she shook out her hands a few times to dispel the last of the tremors before she dropped to the ground beside her pack.

Something snapped loudly behind her and she whirled toward the sound. Aragorn stepped out of the trees and Mel relaxed. If Aragorn had snapped a twig in his path, he had done it as a courtesy, like knocking on the door. She managed a weak smile in his direction, but he did not return it. He only stared at her, his face half-hidden in shadows. It was unnerving and Mel turned back to her pack to keep from fidgeting in his presence.

"Did you need something? I'm almost done here, I just…"

"Why are you here, Mel?"

His voice was quiet, but the hint of suspicion was evident. Mel closed her eyes and took a breath through her nose. She could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. Aragorn approached and crouched down beside her. Mel stubbornly did not look up at him, instead concentrating on folding the blanket in her hands.

"It is not for the hobbits' safety that you have come," He said, "I see it in your eyes. You know the fate of each of us and you aren't concerned with them. So, why are you here?"

"I don't know," She snapped, finally letting her eyes jerk up to meet his, "I have no idea why I'm here, Aragorn, but here I am anyway and there's nothing I can do about it. I didn't ask to be dropped here. But I can't stand the thought that it was for nothing; that I'm meant to do nothing. So I'm doing something about it, the only thing I know to do. Which is more than you've done, Heir of Isildur."

He flinched almost imperceptibly and his jaw clenched, but Mel couldn't find it in herself to be sorry. She was tired, and she had a headache, and she'd had just about enough of people trying to tell her what to do like she didn't understand what was going on. Like she was stupid. Like she didn't already know…

"You want to talk to me about purpose, Aragorn? At least you have one. One that you've been avoiding longer than I've been alive. You come here and you act all high and mighty and mysterious, but you're no mystery to me. You're as lost as I am! And if you don't even understand yourself, how can you possibly expect to understand me?"

The Ranger's eyes were wide and he looked pale, his jaw still clenched tightly. Mel dropped her gaze back to the blanket crumpled in her hands.

"When you're ready to face your own fate, Aragorn, we can talk about mine." She muttered shoving the blanket into her bag, "Until then, just leave me alone."

She shoved her water skin into the pack and pulled everything together with a couple of hard jerks on the straps. When she looked back up Aragorn was gone, without even a broken twig to mark his passing.

Chapter Text

Mel had thought, once her presence was revealed and she had been accepted (more or less) into the Fellowship, things would get easier. But she quickly discovered that this was not entirely the case. It was definitely easier not having to sneak around, always second guessing every move. And Merry and Pippin at least seemed delighted that she was there, pouncing on her the very first day and talking over each other nonstop from dawn until dusk. Legolas still seemed to think the whole thing was hilarious, constantly shaking his head and chuckling to himself, and even Boromir seemed amused though a bit more somber about it.

Not everyone was quite so pleased. Gandalf and Aragorn both seemed to want nothing more to do with her, having said their piece on the matter, which Mel thought she could live with. Gimli continued to be actively furious about her general existence, grumbling to himself and making it his personal mission to glare in her direction at every possible opportunity. Mel ignored him for the most part, but it bothered her more than she was willing to admit. She liked Gimli, or at least she had liked him, in another world.

Frodo… Frodo puzzled her. He hadn't said anything one way or the other about it, but Mel caught him looking at her strangely on more than one occasion, a sort of perplexed unhappiness that was only there for a moment and then gone as soon as he realized she'd seen him. Mel wasn't sure what to make of it and she wasn't really sure how to address it, considering his cousins were insistently hemming her in and barely letting her get a word in edgewise.

She managed to escape when they made camp for the night, and quickly claimed the base of a wide oak tree for herself, nestling her pack neatly between the thick roots. The tree was asleep, but when she pressed her hand to the bark she could feel a presence there, an energy that was difficult to explain, but still somehow comforting. She let out a long, deep breath and felt a knot loosening between her shoulders that she hadn't even realized was there. She was tired and her legs ached and really all she wanted was to just flop down into the dead leaves and…

There was movement behind her that she felt almost more than she heard and she tensed, whirling to confront the intruder…

It was Boromir, eyes wide, hand outstretched as if to touch her arm, so close that Mel could see the blue rim around the gray of his iris and feel the warm breath leave him as he exhaled. She had to remind herself to breathe.

Why are you here, Mel?

Aragorn's face floated before her mind's eye, filled with concern and suspicion. Mel shoved the image forcefully away, along with the fuzzy feeling that was floating around in her stomach.

Boromir only paused a moment, and then stepped back respectfully, lowering his hand to rest on his sword hilt.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Could've fooled me," Mel snipped before she got a hold of her tongue, "Was there something you needed or…?"

"I only wanted…"

He paused, his thumb rubbing the top of his sword's pommel absently as he thought about what he wanted to say. It always seemed like every word he spoke to her was carefully considered. Sometimes Mel wondered what he might say if he weren't quite so careful.

"I hope you know," he began again, "I would have come for you. When this was over. I would have kept my word to you."

Mel's heart lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her throat and she had to turn away, pretending to be very interested in the careful extraction of her blankets from her pack.

"Of course, I know that," she lied, "I just didn't want to wait that long, that's all. My mother always said I was too impatient for my own good."

She managed to throw him a grin over her shoulder that must have been decently believable, because his entire body visibly relaxed. He gestured toward her waist.

"Did you steal that from Lord Elrond's sons before you left?"

Mel glanced down and realized he was talking about her sword, the gold leaves of the hilt gleaming softly in the light of the new fire Gimli had built in the clearing.

"It was a gift, actually," Mel said, standing and putting a hand on the hilt almost defensively, "Elladan insisted."

Boromir nodded, and then held out his hand.

"May I?"

Mel hesitated, but only for a moment. She unsheathed the steel in one smooth motion and placed the hilt in his gloved hand. The moment his fingers closed around the grip, Boromir's face changed. Mel watched in silent fascination as he turned the sword toward the firelight, the glint of the metal flickering over his face, his brow furrowed in concentration. He hefted the blade in his hand a few times, then swung it through the air with a practiced ease.

"The balance is solid, but it's a bit light…" He murmured, almost to himself.

Mel crossed her arms, a spark of indignation firing up in her chest.

"I think it's perfect."

Boromir looked up as if just now remembering that she was still there. He glanced over her and raised an eyebrow.

"It is a beautiful sword, Melody," he said, handing the hilt back to her, "But it will do you little good if you cannot wield it."

"Of course I can wield it!" Mel exclaimed, snatching it out of his hand.

Boromir's smirk made her immediately regret the words.

"Would you care to put that to the test?"

His sword was in his hand faster than Mel could blink, and before she had properly registered what was happening, she was down in a defensive stance, sword poised, eyes alert to every little movement. Elladan had done this to her more times than she could count, catching her off guard in the weirdest places, tossing swords at her from across courtyards, in the middle of crowded hallways, from behind random hedges, and loudly declaring "Defend yourself!" before attacking her with abandon. She had learned to be prepared for anything, despite herself.

Boromir watched this transformation with an amused expression, swinging his sword almost playfully.

"Well, at least the elf made sure you could hold yourself before sending you scampering off into the wilderness."

Mel allowed herself a little half-smile.

"If you expect me to dignify that with a response then you're going to be very disappointed."

He inclined his head in almost polite deference, and began a slow, languid circle around her. Mel followed his movements, but there was nothing languid about anything she did. She didn't have the luxury. His facial expression was almost arrogant, his stance never truly falling into anything resembling a full defense, and his sword swung in his hand almost lazily. He clearly didn't see her as a threat.

They will always underestimate you, vinimë, Elrohir's voice from some past afternoon whispered in her ear, Overconfidence is a weakness. You must learn to use such things to your advantage.

Mel tamped down her budding indignation and waited with impatience for Boromir to make the first move. It came as an opening lunge, made with a speed and agility that, despite her mental preparation, Mel hadn't quite expected. She blocked his strike, though a little sloppily, and he backed off. Mel let him, adjusting to the new information and resetting her stance with careful precision.

"So, your hours of playing wooden swords with the elves did produce some results," Boromir said, his eyes twinkling, "I thought perhaps they had kept you only as a pet to be taught amusing tricks."

Mel smiled, but said nothing. He was taunting her, attempting to distract her. Frankly, Elladan's taunts had been far more effective, and she had learned early on to bite her tongue against those games. Instead she concentrated on his movements as they circled each other, knowing it was unlikely that he would be foolish enough to make the first move again. So she waited, eagerly, for her own opportunity to come.

And then, it did.

He swung his sword just a bit too wide, obviously not expecting her to move. But move she did, lunging forward and swinging her sword wide to catch his blade and shove it aside, while using her smaller form to turn in and shove him off balance. He stumbled backward and might have recovered, if his foot had not caught on one of the roots of the oak tree. He hit the forest floor with a grunt and a puff of dry leaves, his sword knocked from his hand, the breath knocked from his body. Mel's sword remained poised, watching him carefully for any sign of recovery.

"Do I pass your test, Boromir?" she asked, allowing a tiny smirk to find its way onto her lips.

Boromir stared up at her for a long moment, and then his face lit up with a glowing smile.

"Yes," he said breathlessly, "With flying colors."

Mel chose to ignore the fluttering in her chest, sheathing her sword instead and offering Boromir a hand up. Once he was on his feet, his hand lingered in hers, a smile still lighting his face. Her hand tingled with the touch.

"I will never underestimate you again, Melody." He murmured.

Before she could respond, they were bombarded by two hobbits, bouncing with youthful enthusiasm and talking over each other in their eagerness. Boromir dropped her hand and Mel rubbed the palm against her pant leg to dispel the tingling that still lingered there. Merry and Pippin tried to drag her into a play-by-play recounting of the match, but Mel redirected their enthusiasm to Boromir, assuring the hobbits that she had just been very lucky.

"There's your expert," she said, gesturing carelessly in Boromir's direction before turning her back on them, "Ask him."

She could hear the hobbits turn their overlapping conversation on the Gondorian and he laughingly obliged them. Mel instead chose to make a beeline for the fire, and the delicious smells that were coming from a pot that Sam was stirring carefully.

"'Fraid I might have burned the bottom, Miss Mel," the hobbit apologized as he ladled some of the stew into a bowl, "The pair of you made quite a show, I plain forgot about the pot and that's the truth!"

"You certainly made a believer of me, mellon-nîn," Legolas said, grinning at her from his graceful lounge against the trunk of a beech tree, "I confess, I questioned your choice of weapon for the journey, but I see now that I was mistaken. You've taken to the blade quite well."

"I have excellent teachers," Mel said, blowing on a spoonful of steaming stew, "The twins have been very patient with me."

"You would have made them proud." Legolas said.

"Looked like cheating to me," Gimli grumbled, "Using that tree root to unfair advantage. What will she do, I wonder, in a proper fight against opponents who will give her no quarter?"

Legolas' expression had darkened with every word the dwarf had said, his hand clenching into a trembling fist where it lay atop his knee. He opened his mouth as if to reply.

"Legolas." Mel said sharply.

The elf jerked his eyes to her and Mel shook her head. It wasn't worth the fight. Legolas took a deep breath through his nose and then exhaled, relaxing his fist and letting his features fall into a neutral expression, before he nodded acquiescence in her direction.

Mel took a sip of her cooled stew and let her eyes wander lazily over the camp before landing squarely on Frodo. He was sitting on the far side of the clearing, wrapped in his cloak, stirring absently at a bowl of stew in his lap, but the spoon never seemed to quite find his lips. Sam moved the pot off the fire, and went to sit beside his friend, leaning over and muttering to him, his round, pleasant face creased in concern. Frodo smiled thinly and sipped a spoonful of stew, but he seemed to take no pleasure from the action. He met her eyes once across the dying fire, but when she tried to smile at him he barely returned it, dropping his eyes back to his bowl. It bothered her. She and Frodo had not spoken much in Rivendell, but he had never seemed distressed in her presence before. What had changed in the days since they had left?

The problem puzzled her so much that even when the fire had died and the night watches had been set, Mel found sleep elusive. She sat with her back to the oak tree, allowing the comforting energy to seep into her skin, but still she felt restless. Her eyes found the outlines of the sleeping hobbits in the dark. Merry had sprawled out in his sleep, tossing his blanket askew. The night air was chilly, so Mel slipped quietly to her feet and tip-toed over, tugging the blanket gently over him again. Pippin was curled up close by, looking like a frightened hedgehog with no spines. She smoothed his hair back from his face and watched the creases in his face relax slightly. Sam looked perfectly content, laid out on his back, hands behind his head, as if he had fallen asleep while star-gazing. The crumpled blankets beside him were empty. They were one hobbit short.

Mel furrowed her brow and glanced around the clearing. The embers of the dying fire still glowed and a tiny figure was huddled close by, bright blue eyes staring at her in the gloom. Mel stepped lightly over Sam's sleeping form and sat down next to Frodo, tugging her legs up to her chest and dropping her chin to her knees.

"Couldn't sleep?" She asked.

He shook his head, but didn't look at up her. His eyes remained on the hobbits.

"Me either."

For a moment they sat in silence, the breeze whispering gently through the empty trees. Then Frodo spoke in a soft whisper.

"Why did they come?"

Mel turned to stare at him.

"What?"

Frodo still didn't meet her eyes, but he kept talking.

"I didn't ask for them to come. I didn't ask for anyone to come. I just said I would take the Ring to Mordor. By myself."

He finally turned his eyes up to her, his face a mixture of fear and anger and desperation.

"Why did they have to come?"

Mel glanced at the three hobbits, all sleeping peacefully.

"They're your friends, Frodo," she said finally, "Your family. They care about you. They want to know that you're going to be alright."

Frodo hesitated, as if weighing the merit of her words with skepticism.

"What about you?"

Mel jerked upright.

"What about me?"

"Why did you come?"

Mel's heart hammered in her chest. The question echoed Aragorn's with frightening poignancy. This mattered to Frodo. This was important. Because the reason she was here would be the reason he would give to all of the Big Folk who had joined him on this journey. She had suddenly become the representative of the Company, and she felt monumentally unequal to the task. But the answer, really, was very simple.

"Because I believe in you," she said, smiling down at him, "And I want to help, in any way I can."

He very slowly returned her smile. Mel bumped his shoulder good-naturedly.

"You are a very brave hobbit, Frodo Baggins," she said, "And you are meant to do this. But that doesn't mean that you are meant to do it alone."

The hobbit seemed satisfied and Mel decided to count that as a win.

Chapter Text

The next day started much like the day before, but the difference in Frodo was obvious, to Mel at least. He was smiling and his eyes were sparkling. He ate a hearty, full breakfast and when the company started their trek again there was a bounce to his step that hadn't been there before. He was friendly and kept up with the conversation of his cousins, even laughing for the first time since Mel had joined the company. And with the Ringbearer in high spirits, the mood of the entire company was dramatically improved. They were making excellent time, and the journey seemed less tense. Everyone told stories or sang songs and even Gimli seemed less inclined to scowling, at Mel or anyone else. By the time they stopped for lunch Mel was exhausted, but pleased, munching on an apple and letting the sun warm her sore muscles.

"We must hold to this course west of the Misty Mountains for forty days." Gandalf said.

Mel choked on her apple.

"Forty days?" she squeaked.

Gandalf looked at her with disdain and she shut her mouth. She hadn't remembered the trek being so long. She had woken up almost too sore to move this morning and her legs were already killing her now. She wouldn't complain though. She would suffer in silence. It would get better with time, she knew that, but trying to tell her body the same thing was going to be another matter entirely.

"If our luck holds," Gandalf continued, "The Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there our road turns east to Mordor."

The group got very quiet, as they always did whenever Mordor was mentioned, thinking about the long journey and the evil that shadowed every step of their quest. Mel took another bite of her apple. She had more to think about than any of them and what she was thinking was by far the most accurate. They packed up in heavy silence and hurried on their way.

Things got far worse for Mel before they even thought about getting better. She had been hiking before, but always on well-traveled trails through familiar territory. The terrain here was rough and uncharted, and it got rougher every day they moved closer to the mountains. Every night Mel wondered if she would be able to move the next day and every morning she wondered how she could keep going until nightfall. But even as her legs and feet screamed in protest, she kept resolutely silent, repeating in her mind that it would get better, she just had to make it through a few more days and it would get better. She could sense the concern of some of her friends, could see it in the eyes of Legolas and even Boromir, but she did her best to ignore it. She even made a valiant effort at the start of each day to keep up conversation with the hobbits, just to put their worries to rest, but it didn't work. By the end of each day she was simply concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, and she could feel the eyes of the others on her, watching her suffer and knowing there was nothing they could do about it. That was the worst part really. But she just kept repeating to herself, over and over, it'll get better, it'll get better, just a little longer and it'll get better.

And it did. A week slowly passed and Mel got used to the pace. Her muscles didn't scream quite as loudly at the beginning of the day and she didn't feel quite so exhausted when she lay down at night. By the end of the second week she was starting to think she might make it through this thing yet.

And then she realized why it had seemed like forty days was too long. They wouldn't continue on this path for forty days. But she was the only one who knew it.

They had reached a crossroads and Gandalf called for a short rest for food and further planning. Mel recognized this place, and it was distracting. Every rock reminded her of things to come. It made her antsy. So while Sam was cooking up lunch (tomatoes and bacon, one of his favorite meals), she wandered over toward the group of scrub bushes poking out from between the rocky crevices, running her hands through the stiff branches and taking note of their positions. She would need to know that later. When the birds came.

"Greetings Calenhiril."

Mel turned and looked up, searching for the faint, timid voice. There was a twisted little tree jutting out of the highest point in the rocks. She brushed back her hair to get a better look at him and smiled.

"Hello. Who are you?"

His branches rustled slightly.

"I am called Tree."

He said it as though it was an important title, but Mel had known many trees in Middle Earth, all of them with names of some kind. Then she realized that this particular tree was the only tree here, perhaps for miles. Maybe the title was more appropriate than she'd thought. She inclined her head in his direction.

"I am pleased to meet you, Tree."

His branches rattled and she could have sworn he was bowing.

"The pleasure is mine, Calenhiril. What brings you and your companions to my desolate home?"

"We are on a long journey and have stopped to rest and plan our course." She answered, politely.

"Are you going very far?"

Mel glanced at Frodo, hovering over Sam as the bacon sizzled in the pan.

"Yes. Very far." She answered.

"Then you will not stay long?" Tree asked, sounding a little disappointed.

"No," Mel said, turning her attention back to him, "No, I don't think so. We have a lot to do. But maybe you can help us before we go."

"Of course," Tree said, his branches rustling again, "Anything for you, Calenhiril."

"Miss Mel?"

Mel jumped and looked down. Sam was holding a plate of bacon and tomato slices tightly in his hands, his eyes darting nervously from her to the tree and back.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

Mel smiled at him and that in itself seemed to help ease his anxiety.

"Yeah Sam, it's alright." She said, "Just getting a feel for everything, that's all."

He looked a little perplexed by that, but he nodded anyway and held the plate out to her.

"Well, no sense going on an empty stomach." He said cheerily.

Mel took the plate from him gratefully, her stomach rumbling at the smell of the food.

"Nope, no sense in it at all. Thanks, Sam."

His smile widened before he headed back to tend the fire.

Mel glanced across the barren rocks and saw Boromir lining up Merry and Pippin, adjusting their grips on their little swords with infinite patience, a small smile quirking the corner of his lips. She settled on one of the larger boulders close by, swinging her feet absently as she chewed on a strip of bacon and watched the impromptu sword lesson take shape.

As the sound of metal striking metal began to ring out in steady rhythm ("One, two, three…" "That's good, Pippin!" "Thanks!"), Aragorn came and sat beside Mel, lighting a pipe and leaning back against the rocks.

"Move your feet." He interjected, his eyes darting over the hobbits with interest.

Mel glanced at him, but then dropped her eyes and concentrated on her tomatoes. She had nothing to say to him, after all. They'd said all they needed to…

"Mel."

She jumped and stared at the Ranger for a moment, surprised. He wasn't looking at her and, if she hadn't very clearly heard it, she might have thought he hadn't spoken at all.

"Swear that you will never tell what you know," He stated simply, never taking his eyes from the sparing match in front of him, in fact barely moving his lips, "Swear it on the thing that is dearest to your heart."

Mel paused. What a strange request. She had no intention of telling anyone her knowledge of the future, not even…

She followed Aragorn's eyes, and suddenly she understood. It was Boromir. Aragorn knew something was not right with the steward's son. He was asking her to swear so that Boromir would not know the truth. So that history could take its course.

She swallowed hard. Boromir was her friend, despite what she knew. She had seen him in Rivendell and he was not at all the man she had expected. He was funny and kind. But she knew she would never tell him. She could safely swear that.

"I swear it, Aragorn. I will never tell."

The Ranger visibly relaxed and Mel wondered if that had been all that was bothering him since her arrival. Was he afraid that she had come to reveal the future? If that was the case, she wished he had just come out and said it in the first place.

"If anyone were to ask for my opinion, which I note they're not," Mel heard Gimli grumble somewhere behind her, "I'd say we're taking the long way 'round. Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome."

Mel sighed and bit her lip.

Poor, foolish Gimli, she thought sadly, I would save you from it if I could…

"No Gimli," Gandalf answered, his voice dark and stern, "I would not take the road to Moria unless I had no other choice."

Something caught Legolas' eye and he jumped nimbly onto one of the rocks, peering into the distance. Mel could have said something then. It would have been a perfect opportunity, the perfect moment to say something about the birds, about Caradhras, about Moria, about anything. But she had just promised Aragorn. And besides she knew better. So she kept her eyes on her empty plate and her mouth shut.

Some things just have to happen… she reasoned.

She glanced up, caught Boromir's eye as he waited for Pippin to reset his stance. He grinned at her.

Some things just have to happen…

Her own words echoed back to her and she dropped her eyes again.

Maybe not everything. Just some things.

Pippin cried out and Mel's eyes jerked back up.

"Oh, sorry!" Boromir exclaimed, reaching out for the hand that Pippin was cradling against his chest.

Pip took him completely by surprise and kicked him in the shin. Then both hobbits jumped on the man and threw him to the ground in a shouting, laughing heap.

"For the Shire!"

"Hold him down, Merry!"

Boromir laughed and made a token attempt to wrestle away, but the hobbits had no trouble keeping him pinned. Mel caught herself smiling and her chest constricted. He was so happy…

Aragorn was trying to hide his own grin as he stood up to help the fallen warrior.

"Gentlemen, that's enough."

But even he could not stand in the face of Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. They each grabbed a leg and pulled, flipping the Ranger flat on his back and knocking the wind out of him. Even though she had seen it all before, that still made Mel laugh out loud. Aragorn looked up at her from the ground. He was smiling.

"I am glad you think this is so amusing, Mel."

Mel stared at him for a moment, her surprise not quite able to wipe the smile from her face. Aragorn was not her enemy. He was simply a leader looking out for his people, which just so happened to be the Fellowship. He was fulfilling his destiny before her very eyes and he didn't even know it.

"What is that?" Sam asked.

Mel turned toward the growing dark patch in the sky, the thing she'd been waiting for all this time. Gimli snorted.

"Nothing, it's just a whiff of cloud."

"It's moving fast…" Boromir murmured uneasily, "…and against the wind."

Mel reached out with her mind.

"Tree, we need to hide…"

Almost as soon as the thought left her head there was a loud crack and the sound of branches and leaves shuddering and creaking. Tree began to stretch himself, untwisting his truck and spreading his branches, intertwining what little he had to cover as much ground as possible. The bushes around him shivered and began to grow too, spreading their leaves as far over the ground around them as they could.

"Mel?" Boromir said, "Are you…?"

He didn't get to finish his question.

"Crebain from Dunland!"

"Hide!" Gandalf shouted and everybody scattered.

"Merry, Pippin stay with me!" Boromir said, gathering the two hobbits and hurrying them underneath Tree's spreading branches.

Sam hurried to put out the cooking fire and everyone went scrambling for cover under rock and leaf. Legolas leaped off the rocks and grabbed Mel, rolling them both underneath one of the bushes.

When Mel caught her breath she realized she was shaking uncontrollably. She was scared, more scared than she had ever been in her life. At first she could think of no logical reason for it. She knew what was about to happen, even as she watched the crows' approach, the cawing getting louder and louder. She knew the fate of everyone here…

Everyone except herself. That was it, the reason for her fear. She had been so worried about the others that she hadn't stopped to think about what might happen to her. She was just as likely to die out here as anyone, in a land unfamiliar to her, filled with creatures that she could never fully understand.

The crows circled and Mel lay on her back, watching their erratic black forms rush over her, and she shook with a deep, paralyzing terror. Legolas must have felt her shaking. He put an arm around her, pulling her close to his side. She buried her head in his shoulder and just wished for it all to be over, trying to be still and failing miserably.

"Do not despair, mellon-nîn," Legolas whispered in her ear, "Your friends are with you. We will see you through to the end of these dark days."

The caws of the birds grew steadily fainter, and as they faded so did her trembling. Slowly, the company started to emerge from their hiding places. Mel let Legolas pull her to her feet, still feeling a little unsteady. He kept a hand on her arm for a moment until he was sure she had her balance. It was comforting, but she worried that someone else might notice. She didn't want to appear any weaker than she already did. As soon as she knew she had her footing, she slipped out of his grasp.

"Spies of Saruman," Gandalf said, leaning on his staff and glaring after the departed flock of birds, "The passage south is being watched."

Mel managed to edge her way around the group and sidle up to Tree, brushing her hand against his trunk. The bushes had returned to their normal sizes, but Tree stood taller and straighter than he had before.

"Thank you," she murmured in her mind, "All of you."

Tree's branches rustled a bit under her touch.

"Anything for you, Calenhiril."

"We must take the Pass of Caradhas."

Everyone looked up where Gandalf pointed, toward the snow-covered mountain peak. Mel sighed and her shoulders sank. She was just getting used to the hiking. Now she was going to have to climb. This was going to be a nightmare.

The company packed up quickly and as they started their journey toward the mountain, Legolas fell into step with Boromir.

"I must speak to you."

Boromir glanced at the elf, his brow furrowed.

"What is it?"

Legolas' eyes fell on Mel walking ahead with Merry and Pippin, listening to the hobbits chatter excitedly about the tree and bushes that had hidden them and how they had grown.

"Our friend felt fear."

Boromir looked forward and then down at his feet, frowning.

"We all feel fear, Legolas."

"But until now she has felt it only for others," Legolas insisted, "Today she felt it for herself. It troubles me."

The man did not answer, frowning instead at the toes of his boots as he walked. Legolas put a hand on his arm and stopped him.

"Boromir, we must look out for her. Will you give me your word that you will help me in this?"

Boromir paused for a moment, but when he finally met Legolas' eyes, the elf realized that he no longer needed his word. The answer was there, staring back at him in stony gray.

"I swear," Boromir murmured, "While there is breath in my body, no harm will come to Melody Bernston."

Legolas nodded. And together they began the long climb up Caradhas.

Chapter Text

It took a few days for the company to reach the foot of the mountain, but once they started the climb the temperature dropped almost instantly. The wind picked up too, blowing flurries of snow into their faces long before their boots ever touched the stuff. Mel pulled her cloak closer around her and thought of Elladan and Elrohir.

Would she ever see them again?

She shook her head to clear her mind of the thought, but it didn't do much good. Thoughts like that had plagued her for the last few days, rolling around in her head like waves, pulling back only to crash down on her all over again. There was fear in every step she took and she knew the others could sense it too, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Legolas had stayed close ever since the crows and Boromir was nearly always just one step away, silent and brooding, but ever-present. He was brooding a lot more now. She hadn't heard him laugh once since his interrupted sword lesson. It made her anxious.

She knew that Boromir and Legolas had talked when they'd started their journey toward Caradhras. It had been in hushed whispers and she hadn't asked what it was about. She knew. Legolas had told Boromir about the shaking. That was why she now had three shadows instead of the standard one, like normal people. God, she wished that had never happened! She couldn't lose control of herself like that or she really would get herself killed! And here they came again, the dreaded thoughts of death and despair.

Do not despair, mellon-nîn… Legolas whispered softly in her mind's ear. Your friends are with you…

For how long? She didn't want to die. She wanted everything to be alright again. She wanted…

Something wet and cold smacked the back of her head. She squeaked as the wet snow slid under the back of her shirt and whirled to face her attacker. Merry and Pippin stood behind her, Merry toeing at a snow drift, Pippin whistling tunelessly, both trying to look innocent and neither succeeding.

"Okay," she said, crossing her arms and using her best 'twins' voice, "Which of you was it?"

"What?" asked Merry, "I don't know what you're talking about, Pip do you know what she's talking about?"

"No, no, I haven't a clue…"

Legolas was unsuccessfully stifling a laugh behind her. Mel rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she said, "But I feel I should warn you, most of my childhood was spent in a mountain range like this one. I spent a lot of winters in the snow…"

She leaned down so that she could stare directly into the steadily widening eyes of both hobbits.

"A lot of winters… with two younger sisters… and a lot of spare time…"

There was a long pause. Merry and Pippin exchanged a quick, almost fearful glance.

And then the two hobbits took off running as fast as their little legs could carry them. Mel was already halfway down, so all she had to do was drop her arms, gather a handful of snow, pack twice and launch. Through quick instinct and not a small amount of luck, the snowball hit Merry squarely in the back. He yelped and went sprawling dramatically into a conveniently located snowbank.

"I'm hit! Run Pippin, I'll hold her off!"

Mel hadn't even waited to see where the snow landed. She already had a snowball in each rapidly numbing hand.

"You hobbits just messed with the wrong girl!" she shouted.

Her next missile missed Merry by a scant few inches, throwing a spray of snow into his face on impact. He shook out his hair and lobbed a lopsided handful of snow in her direction that she easily ducked, but she slipped in the wet snow and landed on one knee, wasting precious time scrambling back to her feet. Pippin had stopped a little further up and had thrown himself into another snow drift, his hands packing furiously. He turned to launch his attack and Mel's next snowball hit him right in the face.

"Ah! That's cold!" he cried.

Mel was hit on the shoulder with another snowball, made by Merry. She attempted to return fire, but she aimed too high. A perfect globe of glistening white arced gracefully over the hobbits' heads and landed with a wet splat on top of Gimli's helm.

The dwarf cried out and Mel slid to a stop between the two hobbits, her eyes wide with the horror of what had just happened. Of all the people in the company that she could have caught in the crossfire…

Gimli whirled to face them, eyes flashing, axe brandished. Mel held her breath.

"Who dared challenge the dwarf to a match of snow?" He bellowed.

Merry and Pippin both dropped their half-packed snowballs and pointed at Mel. Mel swallowed and vowed to get the little traitors back for that later.

Gimli's eyes narrowed as he stared at her. There was a brief moment when it felt as if the whole mountain held its breath.

"You might have sisters, tree-witch…" Gimli growled menacingly.

Mel winced.

"But I have cousins. A whole mountain full of 'em!"

Mel's eyes jerked up again, mouth open in shock, just in time to get smacked with a faceful of snow. She gasped, sucking a few wet globs down her throat by accident and choked.

"Haha!" the dwarf shouted triumphantly, "What do you say to that then?"

"Gimli's on my team!" Merry shouted quickly, trying to run up the mountain and slipping in the wet snow, ending up crawling on his hands and knees.

"I thought I was on your team?" Pippin cried indignantly.

"Who said anything about teams?" Mel asked wickedly, snatching the youngest hobbit by the collar of his cloak and dragging him down into the snow, making sure to rub as much into his hair and face as possible as he shrieked and laughingly tried to get away.

"That's what you get, you little traitor!" she shouted triumphantly as Pippin finally succeeded in twisting away from her.

Meanwhile Gimli and Merry had been building up a stockpile of well-made snowballs and were now throwing them (surprisingly accurately) down the hill, showering both Mel and Pippin in a rain of snow.

"Take that!" Merry shouted, "And that!"

"Don't think I've forgotten about you!" Mel shouted, gathering up a pile of snow and working as fast as her numb fingers could go, "I owe you, Meriadoc Brandybuck!"

"Aim for the eyes, young hobbit!" Gimli shouted gleefully, "She can't hit you if she can't see you!"

"Now who's cheating, Master Dwarf?" Mel shouted back as snowballs started exploding over her head like a blizzard.

"There is no cheating in war!" Gimli replied, "Du Bekar!"

Mel laughed and managed to lob some hastily made snowballs in Gimli's general direction.

"Hold him off, Mel, I'm coming!" Frodo shouted from somewhere behind her.

Mel turned, a snowball in one hand, a friendly call on the tip of her tongue. It died as she watched the hobbit slip and tumble down the snowy mountainside. He slid to a stop at Aragorn's feet. There was a glint of gold half-hidden in the white snow.

Mel felt a pulse of panic squeeze her chest and she scrambled to her feet, her eyes searching for Boromir. He was just below her, already walking, his eye already on fixed on the Ring and Mel had the almost uncontrollable urge to run after him, to slip right past him and snatch the Ring out of the snow, to keep it out of his hands. She could do it. She was fast enough and no one would be expecting it. She could keep it from ever touching him, from ever changing who he was, if she could just…

She only realized she was moving when Legolas grabbed her arm and stopped her. She jerked up short and glared at the elf. Was he stupid? Couldn't he see what was happening here? Was she the only member of this damn fellowship with any sense at all? Couldn't they see how much Boromir needed her help? She just wanted to help him! She just wanted to…

Something in her expression made Legolas take a step back, almost as if she had physically struck him. And the look of shock and hurt on his face brought Mel back to herself a little bit. She didn't want to hurt Legolas. She just wanted to help. Boromir needed her help…

"Boromir…" Aragorn said, and Mel winced.

Too late.

She turned to watch, even though she didn't want to. The Ring dangled from his hand, the chain wrapped around his fingers, and he watched it swing in the sunlight for a moment, like the victim of a hypnotist.

"It is strange that we should suffer so much fear and doubt, over so small a thing…"

He reached up absently, barely brushing the gold with his gloved fingertips.

"Such a little thing…"

"Boromir!"

Aragorn's voice jerked him out of his trance. He looked… lost.

"Give the Ring to Frodo."

He hesitated and Mel nearly jerked her arm out of Legolas' grip. He wasn't paying attention now, she could walk right down the mountain and snatch it out of his hand. And then maybe slap some sense into him for good measure. But when she tensed Legolas' hold on her arm tightened. Mel gritted her teeth and stayed still.

Boromir smiled and trudged down the slope, holding out the chain in some caricature of goodwill.

"As you wish," He said genially as Frodo snatched the Ring from his outstretched hand, "I care not."

I wish that were true, Mel thought. Oh how I wish…

He ruffled Frodo's hair before he turned and started climbing up the slope again. As he came even with Mel and Legolas, he looked up and took in the elf's hand holding her arm in a glance. When he met her eyes he was smiling, but it was a strange smile, forced and insincere.

"Come now Melody, there's no need to fear. The mountain is only rock and ice, and you are surrounded on all sides by your friends. Do you have so little faith in us?"

Mel dropped her eyes and ground her teeth as Boromir brushed past them and continued up the mountainside. It was difficult to tell if he had meant the words to be hurtful, but they had hurt all the same. She was glad her face was already red from the cold, because she would have been blushing from the embarrassment.

"Come!" called Gandalf, "We've wasted enough time with foolish games. There is a long climb ahead of us."

As everyone started to trudge through the snow again, Mel got the feeling that no one really felt like playing anymore anyway.

Chapter Text

The next day, the company woke to a steady snowfall. Merry and Pippin spent the morning chasing snow flurries and trying to catch them on their tongues. But by noon the wind was howling and the snowfall had turned into a swirling blizzard. Even Mel's elven cloak couldn't keep the wind from cutting through to her skin. Gandalf still led the way, trying to clear a path through the snow with his staff, but it didn't do much good. Mel had a firm grip on Pippin's hand, leading him through snow banks up to his shoulders in some spots, and all the while she was listening, waiting for that voice to find them on the mountain.

But despite her best efforts, Legolas still heard it first. He crept past her, walking on top of the snow, and listened intently as the wind whipped the snow around him.

"There is a fell voice on the air." He called back to them.

Everyone stopped and listened. And finally, Mel heard it too. It was indistinct, but she knew who it was.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf cried, as something above them cracked.

Mel grabbed Pippin and pulled them both back to the cliff wall as the avalanche of stone and ice crashed past them.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn shouted above the storm, "Gandalf! We must turn back!"

"No!"

The wizard pulled himself up onto the icy ledge and shouted defiantly into the wind.

"Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i 'ruith!"

Mel felt Pippin try to tug free of her grip, but she held him tight.

"No, Pip! Stay with me!"

"But I want to see!"

"It's not safe!" She yelled.

Suddenly, lightning struck the tip of the mountain. Chunks of rock and ice went flying, catching drifts of snow as they fell, sending a wave of white sliding down and blanketing everything in its path. Legolas jerked Gandalf back from the cliff's edge and Mel covered Pippin's body with her own as they were all enveloped in cold white ice.

As soon as the avalanche had settled, Mel started clawing her way up out of the snow bank. When she finally broke the surface, she gasped like someone drowning, the cold air burning her lungs. She drove her hands back into the snow, digging frantically until Pippin's curly head was above the snow. She tugged up his hood and pulled his cloak tighter around him.

"You okay?" she asked, shouting to be heard over the wind.

The little hobbit nodded, but he was pale and shaking.

"Where's Merry?" he asked, his teeth chattering.

"I have him!" Boromir called out close by, just as he dug another shivering curly head out of the snow.

"Merry!" Pippin yelled, stumbling through the snow on hands and knees to reach his cousin.

"Hey, Pip, nice to see the cold hasn't got to you." Merry replied shakily, as his younger cousin clung to him.

"We must get off the mountain!" Boromir shouted over the wind, "Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn protested.

"If we cannot pass over the mountain," Gimli shouted, "Let us go under it! Let us go through the mines of Moria!"

Everybody paused, undecided. Mel had managed to make her way through the snow to stand with Boromir and the hobbits, tucking Pippin under her cloak and rubbing his arms in a nearly futile attempt to keep him warm. Boromir had wrapped up Merry in the same way.

"Let the Ringbearer decide!" Gandalf said.

Everyone looked at Frodo, who's eyes were round and frightened.

"We cannot stay here!" Boromir shouted, "This will be the death of the hobbits!"

"Frodo?" Gandalf asked, patiently.

Frodo looked around and he caught Mel's gaze.

"What do I do?" He shouted, "Tell me what I'm supposed to do!"

She almost did. She nearly opened her mouth and made the decision for him. But she knew, somewhere inside of her, that this was not her decision to make.

"I can't, Frodo!" she yelled over the storm, "You have to make the choice! You know the way!"

She thought she saw a hint of approval flicker in Gandalf's eye, but she was more concerned with the flash of panic in Frodo's. Then the hobbit set his jaw and put his mind to work, weighing his options, before turning to Gandalf decisively.

"We will go through the mines."

Gandalf nodded.

"So be it."

"Gr… gr… great!" Merry chattered, "Can we get out of here now?"

Boromir chuckled a little, but Mel saw a dark look pass over his face. He wasn't happy. Mel nearly flinched away from him, but she caught herself and resisted the urge.

The company started to make their way back down the mountain, Aragorn leading the way, but even though the storm seemed to subside almost as soon as they turned around, it was clear they weren't going to make it out of the storm tonight. The hobbits were dead on their feet. Frodo stumbled into Mel and she managed to catch him before he went down in a snow bank, but only barely. Boromir finally spoke up.

"We cannot go further tonight. And I don't think we will find any better shelter than the cliff-wall we are now under."

"Shelter!" Sam muttered, "If this is shelter, then one wall and no roof make a house!"

But everyone seemed to agree with Boromir, and the four hobbits collapsed against the cliff in a shivering huddle. Legolas gathered some wood from the back of Bill the Pony and tried to light a fire. After several useless attempts, Gimli grunted and got to his feet.

"Let me have a chance at that, Master Elf! We dwarves know a thing or two about making fires blaze!"

Gimli stacked the wood in a different way and tried to light it again, but it was no good. The wind was too strong and even Mel could see that the wood was soaking wet. There was no way it was going to light. After almost an hour, Gandalf sighed and stood up. Gimli and Legolas both got out of his way, and the hobbits sat up a little bit to watch. The wizard thrust his staff into the middle of the wood and cried out.

"Naur an edraith ammen!"

Everyone jumped as green and blue flame burst out of the ground, but the wood finally caught fire, crackling merrily against the cold night air. The hobbits scrambled closer and held out their hands to warm. Gandalf just hung his head and muttered to himself.

"If there are any to see, then I at least am revealed to them. I have written 'Gandalf is here' in signs that all can read from Rivendell to the Mouths of Anduin."

Everyone was so happy to have a fire and eager to cook dinner that Mel thought she might have been the only one who heard him. She managed to suppress a giggle as she helped Sam pull out his pans and start roasting sausages.

They cooked a tiny meal that everyone ate quickly. Then they piled more wood on the fire and everyone started to drift off. Mel wrapped herself up in her cloak (which was already surprisingly dry) and leaned back against the cliff wall. The hobbits were in a sleeping huddle close by. Mel yawned, and thought that maybe they had the right idea. Gandalf had agreed to take the first watch, his cloaked shadow at the edge of the fire's glow, looking out into the snowy darkness. Aragorn and Legolas sat together by the fire, speaking in hushed voices, Gimli nodding off not far from them. Boromir was prodding the fire, adding an extra stick or two carefully to the blaze. He glanced up and caught her eye, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips.

Mel turned away, settling deeper into the warmth of her cloak. She still wasn't sure what to make of his comment earlier. She was hurt and angry, without really understanding why.

There's no need to fear… The mountain is only rock and ice… Do you have so little faith in us…?

"Melody?"

Boromir's voice startled her and she jumped. This in turn made her cringe and she couldn't meet his eyes, not after that. How pathetic he must think she was, jumping at every little thing…

"What's troubling you?" he asked, settling down beside her.

"What troubles all of us, Boromir," she snapped, "We're not exactly on a pleasure cruise."

"A pleasure cruise?"

Mel rolled her eyes, irritated at her use of the modern day idiom.

Idiot… she chided herself.

"I just mean that we're not on an easy, fun journey," she explained, "I'm worried about the same things you are."

"I don't think that's true." He said gently.

"Of course it is!"

"Then why won't you look at me?"

So, determined to make him believe nothing was wrong, she did look at him. His gray eyes were kind and concerned, the eyes of her friend.

"I don't want to disappoint you."

The words were out of her mouth before she realized how stupid they sounded. She dropped her eyes back to her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her cloak.

"I mean I… I just don't want you to regret standing up for me, you know? You had my back when Gandalf wanted to send me running back to Rivendell and I just…"

"You are not a disappointment," Boromir interrupted, his tone stern, almost angry, "Where did you get such a ridiculous idea?"

Mel shrank down a little further. It did all sound pretty silly when she said it out loud.

"Nowhere." She murmured, hating herself a little bit for the timid tone of her voice.

"Well, not a single word of it is true! My arguments to keep you in this company have been justified since the crebain caught us unawares in Eregion. You hid us from Saruman's spies!"

Mel shrugged.

"You would have hidden anyway."

"Regardless, you helped us to feel safe, and that is just as important as the hiding itself. And the joy you have brought to the hobbits! You cannot possibly think such a thing is irrelevant. Melody, look at me."

She did. He was staring at her, his eyes piercing.

"Ignore whatever put that silly notion into your head. I have not had one moment of regret since you've joined us. In fact, I couldn't be more pleased."

Mel believed him. She couldn't help herself. Maybe it was his eyes or his voice or just the way the firelight danced over his face, but despite everything, she believed every word that he said. She smiled.

"Thank you." She whispered.

He returned her smile, his shoulders relaxing. They both leaned back against the cliff face in comfortable silence. Mel didn't even realize that she had fallen asleep until she was woken by a quiet voice.

"Come Boromir, I will take your place with her while you stand watch."

It was Legolas. Her head was gently lifted up and she shifted sleepily. She must have fallen asleep on Boromir's shoulder. Before she had time to come fully awake, he slipped out from under her and was replaced by a different shoulder, this one not quite as broad. She nearly moved away, but Legolas ran his long fingers through her hair and soothed her with soft words that didn't make sense, but sounded slightly familiar. Some form of elvish… She sighed and shifted closer, settling onto his shoulder and drifting off to sleep again.

Chapter Text

By morning the snow had stopped completely, but the day was gray and dreary, and the company was still surrounded by drifts of snow higher than the hobbits' heads.

"I suppose we could all go swimming in it." Merry said, darkly.

"Hey, that's an idea!" Pippin said cheerfully, his cousin's pessimism not affecting him in the least, "What do you think of that, Mel? Ever tried swimming in snow?"

"I think Mel would be just as likely as us to get out of those drifts, Pippin, if you don't mind my saying so Miss Mel." Sam said, his eyes huge as he took in the piles of white all around them.

"Don't mind at all, Sam," Mel said, standing on tip-toes to peek over the top of one of the larger snowbanks, "I think you might have a pretty good point, actually."

"Surely it doesn't continue very far," Legolas mused, "Perhaps if Gandalf could go ahead with his fire and melt a path through…"

"And if elves could fly, they might fetch the Sun to save us," Gandalf grumbled, "But I need something to work with. I cannot burn snow."

Legolas caught Mel's eye, a smug smile on his face.

"Well, birds may fly and otters swim, but for running lightly over grass and leaf, or even snow, for that you need an elf!"

He leaped nimbly on top of the snow and waved his hand at them.

"Farewell! I'm off to find the Sun!"

And before anyone could stop him, he took off, running lightly over the snow banks, a cheeky grin on his face.

"No one likes a show off!" Mel yelled after him, but if he heard he ignored her, racing around a corner and out of sight.

Mel crossed her arms and huffed.

"That is so unfair."

Sam heard her and laughed.

After only a few moments, Legolas reappeared, sliding to a graceful stop before dropping back down into the camp.

"Well, I didn't bring the Sun," he said, brushing a scattering of stray flakes from his jacket, "But I do have good news! There is a mighty drift just beyond that turn there, but beyond that the snow nearly vanishes, barely a white coverlet to cool a hobbit's toes!"

"I believe we could each carry a hobbit at least that far, don't you think, Boromir?" Aragorn said.

"I think so," Boromir said, a twinkle in his eye, "Come Master Peregrin, I will start with you!"

Pippin squeaked in giddy surprise as Boromir grabbed him by the arm and swung him onto his back.

"Lead on, Legolas!" Aragorn said, as Merry settled himself onto the Ranger's back.

The elf dashed across the snow again, the two men plunging into the snow behind him.

"Well, would you look at that?" Sam said, "They really are swimming!"

Mel laughed. Sam was right. The way the two men pushed the snow with their arms and waded with their legs it really did look like they were swimming through the snow.

The rest of the company started to break camp and pack up Bill the Pony, while they waited for the men to return.

"Gimli, I believe it would be wise for you to ride our good Bill through the drifts." Gandalf said as delicately as he could.

Gimli harrumphed.

"I will not ride that creature like a piece of baggage! I am a Dwarf and we don't need to be carried!"

Mel rolled her eyes. Unfortunately Gimli caught it.

"What about the tree-…" he stumbled over his words, "…the woman! Shouldn't you be the one riding the beast?"

"If you try to walk through that snow, you'll be sunk up to your eyeballs." Mel answered before she really thought about who she was talking to and winced. She hadn't particularly wanted to start a fight this morning, but…

"If you really knew so much about our world, you would know that dwarves are excellent diggers!" he replied, "I can assure you there is no path I cannot dig my way through!"

"You're people are also very well-known for stubbornness," Mel said, "And I'm telling you, you should get on the horse."

"And how exactly do you propose to get through those snow banks?" Gimli asked, "You're weight would not be enough to cut through still waters without being swept away!"

Gimli's arms were crossed over his chest, his expression smug, and his eyes… were they twinkling? Was… was he messing with her? Mel wasn't sure, but she decided to take a chance.

"At least I'll be able to see where I'm going, Master Dwarf," she replied hesitantly, "All you'd see is white."

Gimli lifted an eyebrow.

"May be… but at least I'd be going somewhere!"

"Enough of this foolishness!" Gandalf exclaimed, cutting them off before Mel could form a reply, "I do not have time for this ridiculous bickering! Gimli, you will ride the pony! Mel, you will follow in our tracks so that a path may be cut for you. I don't want to hear another word about it!"

The two stared in silence for a moment, each measuring the reactions of the other. Had a truce been called and Mel just hadn't realized it? She wasn't complaining or anything, it just seemed… strange, after so many weeks of stepping on eggshells around the dwarf to suddenly be… bantering, of all things! Gimli threw her a half-smirk as he turned away and Mel decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe someday she would ask him what had changed. But for now she was just relieved that they didn't seem to be actively hating each other anymore.

The men came back just as Gimli was attempting to scramble atop the pony.

"What's this, Gimli?" Boromir asked, "You would steal the steed of a lady for yourself?"

Gimli snorted as he managed to finally settle in among the bags.

"The stubborn woman wouldn't take it. No use wasting a good beast of burden in this weather."

"Shall I carry you then?"

Boromir held out his hand to Mel, his eyes shining with barely concealed delight. Mel hesitated, then took a step back and jerked her head in Sam's direction.

"I think Sam might need more help than me."

"Oh not at all, Miss Mel, I'd actually like to stay with Bill, if it's all the same…"

"It is not the same," Gandalf insisted, with a firm tap of his staff, "Samwise, you will go with Boromir."

Sam hesitated, but Mel put a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

"Go on Sam. I'll look after Bill. I'm sure he'll need the help, with Gimli riding."

"I am perfectly capable of riding a pony!" Gimli exclaimed indignantly.

At just that moment, Bill shifted slightly under the weight of his burdens and Gimli cried out, flinging out his arms and clinging to the bags for dear life. Mel managed to bite back a laugh and held Bill's halter, stroking the pony's velvet nose.

"Ah yes, Master Dwarf, I can see that you are a lord of horses."

Gimli fumed at her, but there wasn't nearly the fire behind his glare that she was used to. Still she decided not to press her luck and bit back any other smart retorts.

"Come, Frodo." Aragorn said, pulling the hobbit onto his back.

Sam scrambled onto the back of Boromir, and together the rest of the company pushed through the path that had been ploughed earlier. They had been right, the snow ended abruptly not far from where they had camped. It was shallow enough that everyone could walk on their own feet and Mel thought Gimli was going to leap off Bill and go diving head first into the snow. No, he would never be a horse lord that was for certain. Mel had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

The journey down the mountain was quicker and much less interesting than the trip up the mountain and soon they were traveling south (at least that's what Legolas told her) through a wide trough in the mountain range. The ruins of arches and columns towered over them as they stumbled along the rocky path and finally, in the gloom of what was left of the afternoon, a great cliff face loomed up out of the mists.

"The walls of Moria…" Gimli murmured.

Mel had to admit that in the flesh, so to speak, the wall was very large, very daunting, and very ominous. A shiver went up her spine as she looked out across the vast lake of the Watcher. She would have to make sure she wasn't pulled into the water when it surfaced. She just needed to keep her mouth shut and stay out of the way. How hard could it be?

The trek around the lake's perimeter was long and tedious as Gandalf searched the rock face for any sign of the doors that would lead into the mines. The rocks were slick from the moisture of the lake and it took all of Mel's concentration to keep from slipping.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." Gimli said, tapping on the rock as if looking for an echo.

"Yes, Gimli, their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten."

Legolas had Mel's hand, helping her scramble over a large pile of jagged stone, and he smirked at her.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" he murmured under his breath.

Gimli grumbled wordlessly and Mel had to suppress a laugh.

When they finally came to a stop, Mel knew this was something she had to see. She pushed her way forward, slipping in next to Gandalf, and peered at the wall. She could just barely make out the runes carved into the stone. She reached out to touch them, but hesitated, her fingers hovering just over the carving.

"Ithildin…" Gandalf murmured, glancing down at her, "But of course you already knew that."

She smiled.

"It mirrors only starlight," she quoted, glancing up at the clouded sky, "And moonlight."

The moon broke through the clouds and the great doors of Moria came alive with a brilliant blue light. Mel stepped back, her breath caught in her throat. It was even more beautiful in person. Gandalf stepped back with her, surveying the door.

"It reads," he said, pointing to the ruins above the door, "The Doors of Durin- Lord of Moria. Speak friend, and enter."

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked.

"Well, it's quite simple," Gandalf answered, "If you are a friend you speak the password and the doors will open."

As Gandalf started to recite phrases in Elvish, Mel backed away, trying to fade into the background. She knew the riddle of the door, of course, but there was no way she was telling them. Gandalf would never allow it. And besides, this was too funny to miss.

Pippin tugged on her sleeve and she looked down.

"Nothing's happening."

Mel nearly laughed.

After several tries, Gandalf pushed the doors with his staff, as if he thought brute strength might move them. He sighed and examined the door again.

"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves and Men and Orcs…" he murmured.

"What are you going to do then?" Pippin piped up.

Gandalf whirled on him.

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words!"

Pippin's face fell, and Gandalf looked briefly like he might regret having snapped at the hobbit, but he turned back to the door without another word. Mel gave Pippin a friendly bump on the arm.

"Hey," she murmured, "Don't worry about it, Pip. It'll all work out."

Pippin managed to put on a brief smile, but didn't answer. She squeezed his shoulder, and then left him with his cousin and his thoughts. She toed at a few of the smaller stones as she wandered along the edge of the dark lake, careful not to touch the water. A breeze rippled the surface and carried with it a stale smell. She shuddered. There was a dead tree on the edge of the water and she leaned against it as she looked out over the black expanse, knowing what lurked just under…

"Caaa … llleeennn…"

She jerked upright. The faint, raspy voice in her head disappeared. She took a step back and looked at the scrawny tree. There were no leaves on its brittle branches, and the bark was dry and cracked, flaking off where Mel's shoulder had rested. It was dead. It had to be. So close to the putrid murk of the lake, how could anything survive? Hesitantly, Mel pressed her hand to the trunk.

"Caaa…llleeennn…hhhiiirr…rriiilllll…" The voice choked out, struggling for every syllable.

Mel resisted the urge to flinch away and closed her eyes. There was something black rooted deep inside the tree. Mel could feel it more than see it, but it was there. This tree was sick. Sick, but not dead yet.

"Helllppp… mmmeee…" The voice rasped, desperately.

Mel furrowed her brow and placed both hands on the tree.

"Be still," She whispered, "I'll see what I can do."

She took a deep breath. Everything around her faded away as she pushed her mind deeper into the tree, concentrating all her energy on the blackness she found there, not really sure what she was doing. She could feel the sickness rolling away from her, trying to escape, but she surrounded it, going straight to the core of the disease, gathering it up. Then she yanked it free with all her strength.

A wave of weakness washed over her and stars burst behind her eyelids. Then darkness sucked her in as she crumpled to the ground.

She woke up a few moments later, with several faces peering down at her.

"She's awake!" Pippin said, punching Merry in the arm, "Told you she wasn't dead!"

"You sure had us worried, Miss Mel, and that's a fact." said Sam.

Boromir and Legolas were also staring down at her, concern written all over their faces.

"Can you get up?" Boromir asked.

Mel took a moment to mentally examine herself. She felt alright. She nodded and started to roll onto her side.

A wave of nausea and dizziness hit her like a truck. She retched, but what came up was not just her lunch. Black ooze mingled with a green slime pooled in front of her, and the smell of stagnant water and something rotten made her gag again. She coughed and sputtered, and scrambled away from the mess. Boromir handed her his water skin and she took it, first rinsing out her mouth, then gulping the water down in great swallows. She drank almost half before she stopped herself and handed it back.

"Thanks." She said.

"Mel…" Legolas murmured, gazing awestruck at something behind her, "What did you do?"

Everyone turned and stared. The tree that Mel had thought was dead had been transformed. It was full of green leaves and its bark was smooth and white. It seemed to stand taller, no longer drooping over the lake. Mel felt a smile tugging at her lips.

"Stupid, foolish girl!" Gandalf shouted, standing by the doors and staring at the tree, "Would you waste all your energy tending to every sick and dying plant that lies along our road? We have not the strength to carry you along!"

As he spoke, Mel felt a fury building in her chest. She stood up slowly and deliberately, pushing away the weakness and dizziness that threatened to pull her back into the black pit of unconsciousness. She stood steady on her own two feet and glared at the wizard. Only Gandalf's eyes betrayed his surprise.

"I do not need to be carried," She said coldly, "You don't need to worry about me."

For a moment the air crackled with tension. No one moved. Then Gandalf nodded curtly and turned back to the doors of Moria. When the wizard's back turned, Mel felt the strength of her anger fading away. Her legs turned to Jello and her vision started to darken around the edges. She reached out and grabbed the first thing she could to keep from falling.

It was Boromir's arm. He quickly caught her hand and put an arm around her to keep her from slipping back onto the rocks.

"Can you walk?" he asked, his voice low so that only she could hear him.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He led her to a rock against the cliff wall and she sank down to sit with a sigh, letting her head rest against the cliff and her eyes fall closed. Boromir sat next to her, a silent presence at her side. She fought to keep awake, not knowing if she could come back if she slipped away.

"I do not lack the strength," Boromir whispered, his voice bringing her back from the edge of unconsciousness, "I will carry you, if need be."

"I know," She said, leaning against his shoulder, "But you shouldn't have to."

He made a noise, a rumble that Mel could feel through their touched shoulders.

"Rest, Melody," he murmured, "We have time yet."

Chapter Text

Splash.

Mel felt a twitch in her mind and she stirred, rousing from her half sleep against Boromir's shoulder. When she moved, Boromir stiffened.

Splash.

"Calenhiril!"

The shriek in her mind jerked Mel awake and her eyes flew open.

Splash.

"Stop them! The Watcher!"

She jumped up, swaying a little on her feet. Boromir stood with her, his hands hovering in the air close by, as if to catch her if she fell.

"Melody? What's wrong?"

She saw Merry and Pippin standing at the edge of the lake. Pippin stooped for another stone.

"Stop them." She whispered.

"What? Who?"

But she was already running, the frantic voice of the tree in her head urging her on, no time to explain, just stop them!

She raced for the water's edge as Pippin pulled back his arm to throw, but Aragorn was closer. He grabbed Pippin's wrist and the stone fell from his hand. Mel slid to a stop, nearly losing her footing on the slick rocks.

"Do not disturb the water." The Ranger whispered.

"Oh Calenhiril …"

The voice in her head was desperate. She turned back to the tree by the lakeside.

"It's too late … He's coming…"

The water rippled. Mel's heart leaped up her throat.

"Run!" the tree screamed.

Mel twitched.

"Run, Calenhiril! He's coming!"

"Melody?" Boromir asked, stepping cautiously up beside her, his eyes scanning the dark water, "What is it?"

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts of the desperate, clawing terror that didn't belong to her.

"Nothing." She lied.

Her limbs felt like rubber. She was starting to shake again. She clenched her hands into fists, trying to stop. She couldn't lose it, not now!

"Calenhiril, please, run!"

"Shut up!" she yelled, glaring at the tree.

And then she realized that she was yelling at a tree. And no one else knew the tree was talking. She turned around. Boromir and Aragorn were both staring at her.

"That was most definitely not 'nothing'." Boromir said.

Damn …

"There's something I need to tell you guys."

There was a loud crack and Mel jumped. They all turned to watch as the doors to Moria opened into a black, yawning darkness. Mel shivered. She didn't want to think about what was inside, but really, was it that much worse than what was slithering around in the water behind them?

Rock and a hard place, she thought.

Aragorn took her arm, making her jump.

"I think when we are inside you had best explain to us what is going on."

She swallowed and nodded, allowing herself to be led toward the gaping hole in the rock. If she hadn't been fighting down her fear, she might have paid more attention to the dark scowl on Boromir's face as Aragorn tugged her toward the doors.

"Calenhiril?"

The tree's voice came as a trembling whisper.

"That is an evil place."

Mel took a shuddering breath.

"I know. It can't be helped."

She heard Gimli's voice echoing against the stone as she stepped through the doorway and into the dark.

"Soon Master Elf, you will enjoy the courtesy of the dwarves!"

Mel stopped just past the threshold, where she could still see the light of the moon and stars if she just turned her head to look. Aragorn stopped with her, his eyes flitting over the impenetrable shadows of the mines.

"Roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone!"

Mel caught Legolas' eye, but something he saw in her face made his expression shift from an unimpressed smirk, to perplexed concern. She looked away, trying to still her thundering heart. Aragorn had let go of her and taken a few tentative steps forward. She shivered and rubbed her arms.

"This is the home of my cousin, Balin. And they call it a mine. A mine!"

Gandalf managed to light the crystal in his staff. The room was bathed in dim, wavering white light.

"This is no mine," Boromir murmured, "It's a tomb."

Mel looked down and covered her mouth to stifle a shriek. She was almost on top of one of the dwarf corpses. She stumbled back, panic building in her chest. She tripped over something in the dark, but she didn't dare look down, afraid of what she might see if she did. She squeezed her eyes shut and stood very still, shivering and trying to breathe. It was okay… It was nothing… It was okay…

"Calenhiril, look out!"

The tree's cry brought her mind into sharp focus, just as Frodo's leg was caught. He cried out and the other hobbits shouted incoherently. Mel's eyes flew open and she whirled toward the sound, her mind focused and sharp. Before she knew what she was doing, her sword was in her hand and she was rushing to help, because they were her friends, and they were in trouble, and that's what friends did.

The hobbits had managed to get the first tentacle loose, only to be knocked to the ground by more slithering out of the water, dragging Frodo back toward the edge of the lake. Mel brought down her sword and severed the slimy arm cleanly. It jerked and curled on itself, shuddering back into the water. Mel grabbed Frodo's arm and jerked him to his feet.

"Boromir! Legolas!" She yelled, shoving Frodo back toward the mines and scrambling after him over the slick rocks.

She didn't make it. A strong tentacle grabbed her around the waist and flung her aside. She slammed into the rock wall and white light exploded across her vision before fading into complete darkness. She didn't even feel it when she hit the rocks below, but she heard her sword clatter to the ground beside her. She wanted to pick it up, but she felt like she couldn't move.

So much for staying out of the way, she thought. Her mind felt like it was floating somewhere in the far reaches of her consciousness. She could hear the cries of the others. She even thought she heard someone calling her name. She tried to get up, tried to open her eyes, anything, but her body wouldn't obey. She heard Gandalf ordering everyone into the mines. She had to get up!

Someone scooped her up in strong arms and ran as she heard stone cracking and crumbling all around them. The ground rumbled and there was a great crash. And she knew that the darkness was no longer just behind her eyelids.

"Legolas!" Boromir called, as Mel was lowered to the floor, "Help me! We have to wake her!"

Silly boy, I am awake, she thought. If she could have moved, she would have smiled. Her mind felt warm and fuzzy and very far away.

She felt a cool, slender hand on her forehead, Legolas' hand.

"She's hiding within herself," the elf murmured, "We need to call her back to us."

He spoke to her in soft, soothing elvish words that she couldn't understand. She settled deeper into that warm, fuzzy feeling, her mind drifting as the words washed over her uselessly. It was so pretty… so pretty…

"She's not listening. I can tell she's not listening."

Finally, speaking my language like a good elf-boy, Mel giggled in her head.

But then there was a voice in her ear that she couldn't ignore. It was barely above a whisper, deep and strong, rumbling insistently through her head.

"Melody…"

Wait… What was she doing? She had to get up. They were waiting on her. They couldn't wait on her! She had to get up!

"Melody, wake up."

She sucked in a panicked gasp and finally forced her eyes open. Boromir was looking down at her and the look in his eyes was joy and worry and kindness.

His shoulders sagged in relief and he smoothed her hair back from her face.

"Welcome back." He murmured.

She started to smile, but then the pain hit. It shot up her spine and stabbed at the base of her neck, radiating out to all of her nerve endings at once like she'd been stabbed in the back with a cattle prod. She grimaced and grabbed a fistful of Boromir's tunic, trying to fight back a scream.

This was what she had been hiding from.

"Melody?" Boromir asked, his voice barely more than a haze in her ears, "What's wrong with her?"

"It's probably her back. Help me turn her."

Legolas and Boromir started to roll her over and the pain exploded through her like a bomb full of lightning. A single piercing scream escaped her, which she stifled quickly, but the pain was almost too much even for that. She heard herself whimpering and couldn't stop it as tears poured down her cheeks. She lay on her stomach with her forehead pressed to the stone, clenching her hands above her head and sobbing in uncontrollable gasps, every movement painful.

Legolas lifted the back of her shirt as gently as he could. There was a loud intake of several breaths.

"Mahal…" Gimli muttered.

Mel didn't know what they were seeing, but if the pain were any indication, it was worth the gasps of horror.

"Boromir…" Legolas whispered, "I do not know that my skill is great enough."

There was a pause. Mel tried to control her sobs because every time she moved, pain shot through her. Then she heard the rhythmic click of Gandalf's staff on the stone.

"Move aside, Legolas."

The elf stepped back and Gandalf knelt by her.

"The wounds are great. I cannot completely heal them. But perhaps I can do enough to get her through the long dark of Moria."

His hands pressed to her back gently, but everywhere he touched was like sticking her with a hot needle.

"This might feel strange," he murmured, "Lie still."

A tingling sensation filled her body as if she had gone numb and was waking up from it. She fought the urge to squirm. Gandalf was whispering strange words in a language she didn't recognize. But as the tingling started to fade, so did the pain. Finally, the tingling ceased altogether and Gandalf gently smoothed her shirt down over her back.

"Sit up." He said.

Tentatively, she turned. No pain, but she felt a dull tingle along her spine. She sat up. The tingle was there, but manageable. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She was going to be alright.

Gandalf watched her closely for several moments, then nodded and stood up.

"Help her to her feet, Boromir."

She took the Gondorian's hand and the hand of Legolas, and they eased her up until she was standing. Still no pain. Everyone was staring at her. She smiled.

"I'm okay."

These two words broke the growing tension. Pippin launched himself at her and hugged her fiercely. A dull ache sprang up in her back and she flinched, but the little hobbit didn't notice.

"Oh, Mel, don't ever do that again, we were so worried, and your back was all black and blue and lumpy…"

"Peregrin!" Gandalf barked, "Be gentle with her!"

Pippin jumped and let go skipping back a few steps and toeing at the ground sheepishly.

"I have not fully healed her, only made the injury bearable," Gandalf explained in a gruff tone, "Do not add unnecessary stress to it. It is a four day journey to the other side of the mines and with a little luck Melody will make it out with few complications. Hopefully, our passing will go unnoticed, but we should all be on our guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs in the deep places of the world."

Gandalf turned and started to walk up the set of stairs into the darkness. Everyone followed. A gentle hand touched Mel's shoulder. She looked up at Boromir and smiled.

"I'm fine. Really."

He didn't look convinced, but she didn't have time to try and comfort him. If they stayed back any longer, they would be in the dark. She hurried after the bobbing light of the staff, trying to stay as close as possible and not think about the horrors scattered all around her…

…or what waited, lurking, in the dark ahead.

Chapter Text

Mel counted about two hundred steps before they got to the top of the first staircase. She looked up from her feet and only saw an archway that led into more darkness. She looked back down and tried to ignore it.

"Let's sit and rest, and have something to eat here on the landing, since we can't find a dining-room!" Frodo panted, still looking damp from his encounter with the Watcher.

"That sounds like a fantastic idea to me." Mel said.

"Very well," Gandalf said, "But we will only rest a moment."

Everyone dropped nearly simultaneously at the top of the stairs. They didn't have anything to light a fire, so they ate dried meat and bread with fruit. Mel was gnawing on a strip of jerky (at least that's what it looked like), when Aragorn sat down beside her.

"I think it's time you explained yourself, Mel." He said calmly, tearing into a loaf of bread and handing her half.

Damn, Mel thought. She had thought that, maybe, in the excitement, the Ranger might have forgotten her strange outburst with the tree. Of course she should have known better. She sat up a little straighter and took the bread from his outstretched hand.

Just get it over with …

"The trees talk to me."

Someone behind her choked. She and Aragorn both turned to look at Gimli who was coughing and sputtering. But between coughs Mel could hear him laughing. She narrowed her eyes and turned back to Aragorn. He had raised an eyebrow at her, but he wasn't laughing.

"I'm not crazy," She insisted, "The tree out there was trying to warn me. And it's not just trees either. Sometimes it's other plants too, but the trees seem to be the big talkers. I get the most from them."

She shrugged, picking absently at the bread in her hands.

"Is it any crazier than what you already know about me?"

Aragorn shrugged, a hint of a smile on his face.

"That is true. You are a constant source of mystery and intrigue, Melody Bernston. Why haven't you said anything before now?"

Mel shrugged again.

"It never came up."

"Never came up?" Gimli asked. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since Rivendell."

"And you didn't think this was something the rest of the company should know?"

"What good would it have done?" she snapped.

"Come, Gimli, give her a little peace." Legolas spoke up, "You know it wouldn't have made any difference."

Gimli grumbled and tore off another bite of his jerky. Mel ignored him. When she looked up, Boromir was staring at her strangely.

"What?" she asked.

"You knew I was coming," he said, his voice quiet, "That last night in Rivendell. You said that you knew I was searching for you. The trees told you?"

Her heart jumped to her throat as the ghost of cool night air brushed her skin and the smell of leather and pine needles filled her nose. She dropped her eyes to the bread in her lap. She'd nearly picked it to pieces.

"Yeah."

"That's amazing!" Pippin exclaimed, "Do you have real conversations with them? Are they like real people?"

Mel smiled and ruffled Pippin's hair, grateful for the distraction.

"Yes, Pip, they're just like real people. They have distinct voices and personalities. And most make very good conversation."

"I guess it's because of the ring, then?" Merry asked.

"The Yavannocor?" she asked.

"Is that its name?" Legolas asked, smirking, "Not very original. But then it was made by dwarves."

"We have better things to do than come up with pretty words for what we make," Gimli retorted, "Let the work speak for itself!"

"For once I agree, Gimli. The name doesn't matter, not with something like this."

She could have sworn she saw Gimli grin, but in the dim light she couldn't be sure.

Gandalf stood up abruptly.

"I think that is a long enough rest. Let's go on."

"I'm sure ready to be rid of this place." Sam muttered as he packed up his things.

Mel agreed with that too.

The passages twisted and turned and a few times Gandalf paused, as if he wasn't completely sure which way to take. But it was only for a moment or two and then he would strike out again, as confidant as he had ever been, everyone else following silently behind. They went on for what felt like hours, climbing and then descending stairs until Mel wasn't completely sure if they were higher or lower than they had been before. For all she knew they could be close to the center of the earth.

It's hot enough for it, she thought as she wiped the sweat from her forehead.

They got a little relief from the heat when the passage opened up into a wide cavern. The air was still, but somewhere it must have been circulating because it was cooler in here. The company continued along a ledge that rimmed the cavern, hugging the wall in single file. Mel glanced at the wall and caught a glint of silver running through the stone. She smiled and ran her fingers along the vein of raw metal.

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold or jewels, the toys of dwarves," Gandalf's voice echoed back to them, "Nor in iron, their servant."

The wizard leaned over the edge of the cliff, holding his staff out into the empty air.

"But mithril."

The light glowed momentarily brighter and Mel couldn't help but take a look over the edge. The mine shaft seemed to go on forever, the light from Gandalf's staff reflecting off of the Moria-silver embedded in the rock all the way down until it passed beyond where the light could reach. The ladders and mining equipment looked old and abandoned, swinging crazily on broken, knotted lines and half-rotted scaffoldings. She wondered how long it had been since dwarves had been in this mine.

The light gradually faded and everything was enveloped in darkness again. The company moved on.

"Bilbo had a shirt of Mithril rings that Thorin gave him." Gandalf said conversationally.

Gimli gasped, "That was a kingly gift!"

"Yes! I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire!"

The path had widened out a bit and Mel just happened to be walking next to Frodo when Gandalf dropped that particular bombshell. She looked down at the hobbit and he looked up at her, eyes wide. Mel grinned and then winked at him. He blinked in surprise, but then he smiled back. It was now their little secret, that Frodo was wearing the value of the Shire on his back right now.

They got out of the mine shaft and went a little further before they came to the crossroads, the set of three doors that stumped Gandalf completely. Mel hid a smile as the wizard looked from one to the other.

"I have no memory of this place." He whispered.

Then he spoke louder to the company at large.

"I believe it is time to stop and get some rest."

The hobbits immediately dropped to the floor and started digging through the supplies for food.

"Are we lost?" Pippin whispered to Merry, not very quietly.

"No."

"I think we are."

"Shhh!" Sam said, "Gandalf's thinking!"

"Merry?"

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

Merry rolled his eyes at his cousin.

"We're working on it, Pip!"

He took an apple out of his pack and shoved it into Pippin's hand.

"Here, eat that!"

Pippin took the apple and sat back, holding it out in front of him, as if admiring it.

"What I wouldn't give for a batch of Farmer Maggot's mushrooms and a pint of ale from the Green Dragon!"

He sighed and crunched into his apple.

Mel eased down gingerly, sitting with her back against the rock Gandalf was perched on, staring into the three yawning passageways. She leaned her head back and sighed. Her back was aching a little and it felt good to sit down. She looked out into the darkness of the cavern they had just climbed out of and tried to stop imagining the evil that might be lurking in the shadows. It didn't happen and she closed her eyes just so she would stop trying to strain into the dark, making out shapes that weren't there.

"Miss Mel?"

She jumped and her eyes flew open. Sam was looking down at her with concern creasing his features.

"I got a loaf of bread here and some meat and an apple, if you like."

She smiled and took the offered food.

"That's sweet, Sam, thank you."

He stood up and crossed his arms, his eyes darting over her intensely.

"Can't be lettin' you tire yourself out now. Is your back alright?"

"It's fine, thank you." She lied.

When the hobbit did not appear convinced, Mel took a bite of the apple he had given her, as if to reiterate the point that she was okay. His eyes narrowed, but all he did was nod and return to the other hobbits, apparently satisfied.

Mel leaned her head back against the cool stone and finished the meal she'd been given, deliberately eating slowly. Devouring her food like a ravenous wolf wasn't going to do her any good. She finally finished the last bite of her apple and wrapped her cloak around her, feeling much better. Her back didn't ache, but the tingling was there, nudging at her mind. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep as everyone around her seemed to be doing. But she kept hearing noises in the dark. She kept her eyes closed, willing herself to believe that nothing was there, there was no reason to look because nothing was out there except her friends.

I'm fine, she thought, I'm fine, this is silly, I'm fine…

She didn't know how long she sat and repeated that mantra to herself, but she must have dozed off without knowing it, because Gandalf's sharp voice woke her.

"Pity?"

Her eyes opened.

"It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand."

She sighed and looked around. Everyone seemed to be asleep.

"Many that live deserve death…"

Her eyes fell on Boromir, dozing against the rocks just a few feet away, his face peaceful.

"…but some that die deserve life."

She smiled.

"Can you give it to them, Frodo?"

"I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened."

"So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

Boromir stirred and Mel quickly looked away. Her eyes met Legolas' who was lounging against the stairs, as if he had been keeping watch in the dark. He smiled at her, a knowing look in his eyes. She dropped her gaze to her lap. She definitely wasn't in the mood to deal with… whatever it was the elf was thinking.

"Ah!" Gandalf exclaimed cheerfully, "It's that way! Come, everyone, in the watches I have made up my mind!"

"He's remembered!" Merry said excitedly, leaping to his feet as everyone else stirred.

"No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down here. When in doubt, dear Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

As Mel pushed to her feet, a sharp pain ran the length of her spine. She bit her lower lip, bracing herself on the stone for a moment as the spasm shuddered up and down once and then subsided, replaced by that strange tingling hum in her nerves. She forced herself to her feet and looked around. No one seemed to have noticed. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was okay. She just had to make it through Moria. She could do this. She had to.

Silently, she followed after Gandalf and the company as they descended into the darkness of the right hand tunnel.

Chapter Text

They descended into the mountain, following the tunnel as it twisted and turned deeper and deeper. And then suddenly the passage started to go up. The tunnel never branched off and they trudged along steadily for hours, winding slowly up the same way they had wound down a few hours before. Mel wondered what exactly had been the point of it.

No one spoke, not even Pippin, the one they usually couldn't get to shut up. They only stopped twice to dig out some food and keep walking. Mel got the feeling that everyone was ready to be out of the eternal darkness. She had no idea what time it was outside, or even what day. For all she knew, they could have been wandering around in here for days. It certainly felt as if they had been walking in this tunnel for days!

Pippin stumbled in front of her and she caught him before he fell, ignoring the ache in her back. His eyes were exhausted. She took his hand and pulled him along with her, his eyes drooping, knowing that they would have to stop soon.

Suddenly, the walls on either side of them dropped away and the company came to a stop on the landing, the stairs dropping away into thick, impenetrable darkness.

"Let me risk a little more light," Gandalf murmured and held up his staff.

The glow of the staff brightened and the darkness fell away, revealing the height of the gigantic room and the forest of intricately carved pillars that stretched out on all sides, gleaming in the light like they had been polished. Everyone took a collective breath.

"Behold!" cried Gandalf, his voice echoing grandly against the stone, "The great realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf!"

"Now there's an eye-opener and no mistake," murmured Sam.

"Oh, Gimli," Mel whispered, touching the dwarf's shoulder reverently, "It's so beautiful."

He grunted, but he did not move away from her touch. In the light, she even thought she saw him smile, his chest puffed up just a little.

Then the light slowly faded away and they were enveloped in the oppressive darkness once more.

"There used to be windows and shafts leading out to the light in the upper reaches of the Mines," Gandalf said, gesturing with his staff, "But it is night outside again, we cannot tell until morning if they are still open. In the meanwhile, I think we had better rest here before we go on."

Everyone huddled on the landing and dug out the food.

"There must have been a mighty crowd of dwarves here at one time," Sam said, as they passed bread and meat and fruit around, "And every one of them busier than badgers for five hundred years to make all this! What did they do it all for? They didn't live in these dark holes surely?"

"It wasn't always dark," murmured Gimli, his eyes downcast as he picked apart a strip of jerky, "It was full of light… and splendor."

There was a silent pause, as if the darkness itself held it's breath. And then softly, Gimli began to sing.

"The world was young, the mountains green

No stain yet on Moon was seen

No words were laid on stream or stone

When Durin woke and walked alone, "

"He stooped and looked in Mirrormere

And saw a crown of stars appear

As gems upon a silver thread

Above the shadow of his head, "

"A king he was on carven throne

In many-pillared halls of stone

With golden roof and silver floor

And runes of power upon the door, "

"The light of sun and star and moon

In shining lamps of crystal hewn

Undimmed by cloud or shade of night

There shone forever fair and bright, "

"There hammer on the anvil smote

There chisel clove, and graver wrote

Unwearied then were Durin's folk

Beneath the mountain music woke, "

"The harpers harped, the minstrels sang

And at the gates the trumpets rang

The world is grey, the mountains old

The forges fire is ashen-cold, "

"No harp is rung, no hammer falls

The darkness dwells in Durin's halls

The shadow lies upon his tomb

In Moria, in Khazad-dum, "

"But still the sunken stars appear

In dark and windless Mirrormere

There lies his crown in water deep

Till Durin wakes again from sleep. "

The last lines of the song echoed back and forth among the pillars until it finally faded away to nothing. It was a song that could have only been done properly by a dwarf, in a deep, resonating voice that made Mel wonder if stones could speak as well as trees. She thought that it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever heard.

It was several moments before anyone felt comfortable even moving in the silence, and even then it was done with a sort of reverence, as everyone shifted and began to wrap themselves up in blankets and drift off to sleep. Remembering what happened the last time she had tried to sleep upright, Mel decided it would be better if she tried to lie down to sleep tonight. She spread her bedroll on the smooth stone and tried to lie on her back, but the tingling was so terrible that she couldn't stand it. So she tried to lie on her side. It was no use. The tingling was keeping her alert. Even when she did manage to drift off, a noise in the dark would startle her awake again.

She tossed and turned for a while, and then she sighed and sat up, straining her eyes in the dim light given off by Gandalf's staff while he slept. She could barely make out a slender form on the edge of the group on watch. It had to be Legolas.

She got up, wrapping herself in her cloak against the chill of the great hall, and picked her way quietly around the sleeping forms of the hobbits, all huddled together in a little circle. She sat down beside the elf, who didn't even glance over at her.

"You should be asleep," He murmured.

She shrugged.

"I can't."

"Your back?"

"Yeah, partly."

He nodded, but didn't press further.

"Can I just sit up with you for awhile?" she asked.

"You are always welcome in my company, Mel."

She tucked her cloak closer around her, and glanced back at the company. Her eyes fell on Boromir, sleeping a few feet away. He had saved her. He had carried her, just as he had said he would and she suddenly realized that she hadn't even properly thanked him! What kind of insensitive jerk was she? And he had woken her up, when all she had wanted was to stay in her own little dream world, to hide away. That voice… She had never heard a voice like that before.

"He is not the same man that brought you to Rivendell."

Mel jumped, jerking her eyes away from Boromir and back to Legolas. He was searching her face, watching for a reaction to his words. Mel dropped her eyes to her hands.

"I know."

"I don't know if he will ever be that man again, Mel."

"I know," She said, starting to feel frustrated, "You don't understand, Legolas. I know who he is, who he was, and who he will be. I know his father, his brother, how old he was when his mother died. I know more about him than even he knows about himself."

Legolas touched her cheek, bringing her eyes back up to meet his. He was smiling.

"And still you look at him with the light of the stars in your eyes."

She took a sharp breath and pulled back from his touch, dropping her eyes to her lap again. Legolas chuckled softly.

"As I've told you before, I will never understand the race of Men."

Mel huffed a little bit of a laugh.

"Wow that feels like a long time ago."

She caught Legolas grinning at her out of the corner of her eye. She rolled her eyes, matching his grin.

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing for you! What have you lived, like, a hundred thousand years or something? To us mere mortals it has been a while."

"I have not lived one hundred thousand years," Legolas said indignantly, still smiling.

There was a pause. Then he added, quietly, "It does feel like a long time ago."

"Do you miss home?" Mel asked, curiously.

He was quiet for what felt like a very long time. Mel was beginning to think that maybe she shouldn't have asked. When he did finally speak, it was barely more than a whisper.

"Mirkwood has been a place of darkness for many years. I was happy to be rid of the shadow, to be sent by my father to make a difference in the world. But now… I do seem to miss it, the familiarity of the woods and the elves that live in them. Even in evil times it has been my home and the home of my family for years beyond counting. And I miss my family very much, more than I would have thought," He paused and then he smiled sadly at her, "But I'm sure not as much as you miss yours."

She dropped her eyes again, a guilty feeling grinding in the pit of her stomach. So much had been happening to her all at once, she had barely had time to think about her family. She wondered what was happening to them now that she was gone. How long had they searched for her? Did they think she was dead? She just wanted to let them know that she was okay; she didn't want them to worry. Especially her sisters, they were starting high school next year. It was going to be hard enough as it was. And her mom… god, she missed her mom…

"I am sorry, Mel," Legolas whispered, "I didn't mean to upset you."

She sniffed and rubbed away the single tear that had trailed down her cheek, "No, don't be sorry. It's okay. I just… I do miss them, that's all."

Legolas took her hand and held it in both of his.

"I know."

She sniffed again and smiled up at him.

"Tell me about your family." She said, trying to rustle up some of her old enthusiasm, "I want to know all about them."

Legolas leaned back against the stairs and grinned.

"Where would you like me to start?"

Mel scooted over and put her head on his shoulder.

"Wherever you feel like it."

Legolas smiled and started to talk, beginning with the tale of his father's journey into what would become Mirkwood. But before he had gotten far past his father's marriage to his mother, he realized that Mel had fallen fast asleep. He smiled and gently settled her down on the floor of the landing, folding a blanket beneath her head and making sure she was well covered with her cloak.

He hesitated for a moment, and then he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

"Sleep well, mellon-nîn," He whispered, "This darkness will not last forever."

Chapter Text

Mel didn't remember falling asleep, but the next thing she knew a dim light was shining through her closed lids. She rubbed her eyes and sat up slowly, ignoring the soft twinge of an ache in her back. Sunlight was filtering into the cavern through shafts in the walls, lighting up the dust that swirled lazily around the columns of the Dwarrowdelf. It was quiet. Everyone was still asleep except for Boromir, who was sitting watch on the steps beside her.

"Good morning," He murmured, smiling at her in the dim light.

Mel grinned and twisted around so she was sitting next to him on the steps, wrapping her cloak around her against the morning chill.

"It is," she said, sighing contentedly, "It is finally a real morning and that makes it incredibly good. I'm really happy to finally see the sun again."

"As am I. The darkness does not agree with me."

They sat for several silent minutes, staring out into the half-shadowed gloom. Even in the patchy sunlight Mel could see no end to the forest of stone columns that stretched out in neat rows before them.

"I can't even imagine what it must have been like," she whispered, "To live here, when it was new. To walk these halls. But I think I get it now."

Boromir glanced down at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Why the dwarves want it back so badly," Mel said, "Why so many would give up their lives to take it back from the dark. Why Gimli looks so…"

She paused and bit her lip, trying to think of the right word.

"Enamored." Boromir supplied.

Mel nodded, "But sad too. Like he's lost something that he never really had to begin with."

Boromir nodded. They sat in silence for another moment.

"It's weird," Mel whispered, "I never really thought… I guess I didn't expect it to be so…"

"Real?"

Mel jumped at the sharp word. Boromir's face had become as hard as the stone that surrounded them.

"This is our world, Melody." He said, "It is very real to us."

His expression darkened.

"The evil on the borders of my land is real. The threat to my people… my father and my brother…"

He paused and Mel held her breath. His entire face had clouded over with a mix of overwhelming sadness and terrifying anger. He wasn't even looking at her anymore, as if he were just talking to himself.

"I will do whatever I must to keep the darkness from my home. Whatever I must…"

His eyes flickered behind them, over the forms of the sleeping hobbits, but in an instant his face seemed to soften and the darkness passed. He looked at her again, suddenly sad and sympathetic.

"I know how hard it must be for you to understand. You have no ties to this world."

Mel didn't know what to say. The look on his face had scared her, but he seemed alright now. Was it the Ring? Or was this something else, something about him that she simply hadn't seen before? No, it was the Ring's influence, it had to be. And besides, he was fine now.

Gandalf saved her from having to form a reply.

"Good morning!" The wizard called out cheerfully, "For morning it is again at last! Everyone wake up and we shall have breakfast before we continue. Before today is over we ought to find the Great Gates and see the waters of Mirrormere lying in the Dimrill Dale before us."

Mel suddenly felt sick to her stomach. If this was the last day in the Mines, then that meant…

She tried to shake off the nausea and make herself busy, packing up and helping with breakfast, only managing to force down an apple herself. She couldn't eat, not with that sick feeling rolling around her insides. While no one was looking, she took out her sword and ran a hand along the flat of the blade, just for her own peace of mind. The feel of the cold steel calmed her nerves the tiniest bit and she managed a deep, soothing breath. She sheathed it again and tightened her belt.

When she turned around, she nearly ran right into Aragorn. He gave her a long, hard look, but said nothing. She nodded curtly and moved past him to pick up her pack. When she caught him out of the corner of her eye, he had his own sword in his hand, checking the blade and swinging it a few times before returning it to his belt. He also checked his arrows and bow quickly and silently. No one else seemed to notice.

The company was ready in record time and everyone started out in high spirits, but Mel was jumpy. She kept seeing things in the gloom, movement in the shadows. They hadn't walked for very long, only a few hours at the most, when they turned a corner and a bright light fell through a door half off its hinges. Mel's heart stopped.

"Oh!"

Gimli was gone before anyone could stop him and Mel was right on his heels without really knowing why. She could hear Gandalf calling out for them, but she didn't stop. She didn't… She didn't want him to face it alone.

They burst through the broken doors at the same time and Gimli slid to a halt, his eyes wide, his mouth open. Mel stopped a couple steps back. The bright gray stone of the tomb glistened in the morning sun, the light piercing the dust they had kicked up in their rush.

"Oh… Oh, no." Gimli said, taking a few staggering steps before falling to his knees before the stone.

"Gimli, I'm so sorry," Mel said, taking a few tentative steps toward him, but then hesitating, "I'm so, so sorry."

The others caught up to them then, entering the room with a solemn reverence as Gimli wept at the foot of his cousin's grave.

"Here lies Balin," Gandalf read, "Son of Fundin, Lord of Moria. He is dead then. It's as I feared."

Gimli wailed and Mel's hand reached out for him, but she held back. She was probably the last person the dwarf wanted to comfort him. Her hand hovered uncertainly in the air for a moment, before she lowered it again. Boromir glanced at her, curiously at first and then sympathetically, with a sort of understanding. He took a few steps and put a hand on Gimli's shoulder.

"They have taken the bridge…"

Gandalf's voice as he read from the cracked, dusty pages seemed to bring some sort of comfort to Gimli, his sobbing subsiding as they all listened,

"…and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes… drums… drums in the deep…"

When he turned the page, it was the loudest noise in the room.

"We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out…"

Mel closed her eyes and bowed her head, waiting.

"They are coming."

The loud crash in the forbidding silence made everyone jump, even Mel. It seemed to go on forever, echoing through every empty hall in Moria. When the last clang finally resonated through the mines, Mel looked up. Pippin was standing very, very still next to the old well in the corner, looking absolutely horrified. Everyone held their breath. When nothing happened they relaxed. Gandalf slammed the giant book shut.

"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

He snatched his hat and staff from the nervous little hobbit and turned away. Mel started to move toward him, but a sharp pain lanced up her spine and she nearly cried out. She managed to keep herself upright until the pain subsided, replaced by that annoying tingling sensation again. And at just that moment, the deep booming thump of the drums began.

Perfect, she thought, I have the greatest timing ever!

"Frodo!" Sam gasped.

Frodo pulled out Sting and everyone saw the bright glowing blue. At the same time, a high-pitched cackling echoed all around them.

"Orcs!" Legolas snarled.

Boromir ran for the doors, throwing Mel a sharp look as he brushed past her. Mel ran after him, not bothering to try to figure out what that was supposed to mean.

"Boromir!" She shouted.

He jerked back, just as two arrows lodged themselves into the door where his head had been. He snarled at the black feathered things and slammed the door closed, as Mel and Aragorn rushed up behind him.

"They have a cave troll," he said, rolling his eyes before glancing at her, "But I suppose you already knew that."

Mel thought she detected something harsh in his tone, but she didn't have the sense or the time to decide for certain right now. If he had a problem with her, they would have to figure it out later.

Provided there is a later, she thought as the two men barricaded the doors and they fell back to stand with the rest of the group. Gimli jumped onto the tomb of his cousin and growled.

"Let them come! There is one Dwarf yet in Moria that still draws breath!"

Mel pulled out her sword, ignoring her tingling back. She was going to have to defend herself, there was no way around that. She was starting to tremble again. She tightened her grip on the sword to steady herself as the orcs started pounding on the doors. Her legs felt weak and her arms shook, despite every effort she made. The orcs punched a hole through the old, rotten wood and her breath caught in her throat. Her heart was pounding against her ribs and her mind was screaming at her to hide, crawl in a hole somewhere until it was all over…

And then she heard a voice as clear as if someone were whispering right in her ear. Elladan's voice.

Keep your feet apart… he said.

Mel checked her stance.

Hold your sword like you mean it… This time the voice was Elrohir's, gentle but firm, …don't slouch.

Mel checked her posture and sword angle.

The orcs had broken a wide enough hole that an arrow could be shot through, and Legolas and Aragorn took advantage of it.

The voices continued, back and forth, running her through her paces.

And most importantly, Elladan said, believe.

You must believe, vinimë, Elrohir whispered.

Believe in the sword …

Believe in yourself …

…because we believe in you…

The doors burst open, and all hell broke loose. A horde of orcs came pouring in and rushed for them, but an unimaginable calm had taken over Mel. She set her face and swung her sword as hard as she could. An orc head went flying and the body crumpled to the floor. It was the first sentient being she had ever killed, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Where one orc fell two more took its place, and all at once Mel found herself in a desperate fight for her life. She ducked and spun and stabbed and sliced, barely taking notice of anything else around her. Her back was screaming, but she gritted her teeth and kept going. She couldn't stop. If she did she was dead.

She glanced up for a moment when the cave troll crashed through the broken doorway, but that was all the acknowledgment that her mind would allow. She was moving with a constant rhythm, struggling to remember the exercises Elladan had so patiently taught her. And it was working. She felt clumsy and slow, but she wasn't dead yet and that was a good sign.

A body flew through the air over her head and smashed into the wall behind her. She spun around. Boromir lay on the floor, unconscious. An orc saw him just as she did and went running toward him as he stirred and rolled over. Mel didn't hesitate. She ran up behind the orc and stabbed him through the back, her sword running him all the way through. For a moment, everything seemed to pause. Then the orc sagged and Mel jerked her blade free, slinging black blood onto her already grimy hands and face. The orc clanged to the ground. Boromir sat up and looked at her, his eyes still slightly dazed.

"Alright?" Mel asked.

He shook his head, clearing the stunned look off his face, and got up, picking up his sword.

"I thought I would be the one rescuing you," He said, a hint of a smirk on his face.

"I wouldn't dismiss that possibility so soon," She said, "We haven't seen the worst of it yet."

His expression darkened, but Mel saw an orc running toward her out of the corner of her eye and turned to face it, metal clashing on metal as she returned to her nightmarish reality. The fighting continued, but she could see Boromir now, on the edges of her vision, never very far away. The orcs started to thin, but the cave troll still fought fiercely, even with no master to guide it. Mel just tried to concentrate on her own little world. After all, everyone else was going to be fine. She stabbed and hacked at every orc that got near her, until finally, there was no orc to be found. She spun around and there was nothing. There was only the troll. She watched as Merry and Pippin leapt onto the back of the giant, stabbing fervently and crying out in anger.

She took a few anxious steps toward them.

"Merry! Pippin!"

The troll reached back and grabbed Merry by the leg, flinging him away like a rag doll. Mel ran to his side and rolled him over.

"Merry! Merry are you hurt?"

He looked up at her, his eyes wide and frightened.

"Frodo…" he gasped, "Mel, he… he got…"

"Frodo's fine, Merry, do you hear me? He's going to be okay."

The hobbit looked confused.

"But…"

The cave troll roared and they both looked up just as Legolas fired the killing shot. Mel helped Merry to his feet as the troll stumbled and whined. One ugly swollen finger reached up, as if to take the arrow out of its mouth, where it had lodged. Then, the beast stumbled forward and collapsed, flinging Pippin over its head to the floor, where he lay still.

"Pippin!" Merry cried out, rushing to his cousin's side, Mel following behind him.

Pippin's eyes fluttered open and he groaned.

"Did we get him?" he asked.

Mel dropped to her knees next to him and grinned, a little bubble of relief floating up inside her.

"Yeah, you got him alright, Peregrin Took. Are you okay?"

He looked down at himself dazedly, and then sat up, running a hand through his hair. Then his eyes widened and he grabbed Mel's cloak.

"Frodo! He got Frodo!"

Before Mel could reassure him, he was on his feet and running toward the corner where the rest of the fellowship had gathered. Mel and Merry were right on his heels and they caught up just in time to hear Sam exclaim, "He's alive!"

Mel stood toward the back of the group and let the hobbits wormed their way forward.

"I'm alright. I'm not hurt." She heard Frodo gasp.

"You should be dead!" exclaimed Aragorn, "That spear would have skewered a wild boar!"

"I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye." Gandalf offered.

Mel edged a little closer, squeezing in between Boromir and Legolas. Frodo looked up and met her eyes. Then he reached down and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the Mithril mail he was wearing underneath.

"Mithril…" Gimli murmured, "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins."

Frodo looked up and smiled at Mel. She started to smile back, but the adrenaline that had been keeping her going must have started to fade. A startling pain fired through her nerves, like lightning jumping across her skin. She hissed between clenched teeth and grabbed Legolas' arm to keep from falling. She couldn't fall, not now, they still had so far to go, so much to do…

"Mel?" Legolas asked, his voice muffled in her ear, "Are you…?"

He was interrupted by the sound of orc laughter ringing through the mines. The company exchanged horrified glances.

"To the Bridge of Khazad-Dum!" Gandalf cried.

Everyone ran out of the room, following Gandalf back into the Dwarrowdelf. Legolas took Mel's hand and pulled her with him as she stumbled, trying to ignore the jolting pain brought on by every step. She clenched her teeth until her jaw ached. She had to keep going. Because if she couldn't keep up, she might get all of them killed.

As Boromir ran out of the room, trailing the rest of the Fellowship, he noticed that Mel was holding the elf's hand. Out of nowhere a pang of emotion stung him, like a hot knife in his chest, a mixture of hurt and loss and something he had never felt before. Somewhere in the dark corners of his mind, a voice whispered.

She doesn't need you. She has never needed you. That's why she didn't tell you what she knew. She doesn't want you. And she doesn't trust you.

And then the chase was on, and the voice was silent.

Chapter Text

Mel could hear the cackling of the orcs and the skittering sound of their feet as the company fled through the towering pillars of the Dwarrowdelf. But all she could concentrate on was staying upright and keeping the pain shoved firmly in the back of her mind. Every so often it was replaced by a numbing buzz that set her teeth on edge, but then she would trip on a rock or turn her head wrong and the pain would shoot up her spine and into her nerves like fire along a fuse. Legolas kept a firm grip on her hand, tugging her along behind him, which meant she didn't have to concentrate on where she was going so much as just getting there.

I will not die here, she repeated to herself, I will not die here. But then another bolt of pain radiated outward and she had to stamp down her own doubts. Death was starting to look like a pleasant alternative.

Suddenly, everyone slid to a stop and Mel nearly stumbled right into the back of Legolas. She looked up. The orcs had surrounded them as far as the darkness would allow her to see. They leered out of the shadows, their ugly faces snarling and snickering, toying with the little group that had dared to wander into the territory they had claimed for themselves. It was all Mel could do not to just crumple to the floor.

"Is this how it's to end?" Boromir whispered.

He was standing beside her, but he wasn't looking at her, his sword and his shield gripped in his hands, his face grim.

"No," she whispered, and Boromir glanced at her, "Not here. Not in the dark."

He stared at her, his mouth half-open as if to form a reply. And then the fiery light came pouring out from the end of the hall. A great rumble thundered through the mines and the orcs shouted and scattered, fleeing the way they had come, down the hall, up the pillars, through the cracks in the ceiling and floor like roaches. She heard Gimli laugh, but she barely registered it. Her vision was starting to blur. She could feel her mind falling into a deep pit. And the pain was fading…

Someone stomped on her foot, hard. She jumped and gasped, her mind coming back into sharp consciousness. She looked down and saw Gimli standing on her other side, a scowl barely concealing the furrows of concern across his brow.

"Not here, tree-witch," he growled, "I'll not lose one more soul to these cursed mines, not even you."

Mel let out a shaky breath and she nearly reached out to grip the dwarf's shoulder, but she changed her mind at the last minute and only nodded, gritting her teeth. The pain was still present, but she would just have to bear it. She couldn't fade away.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir murmured to Gandalf as the shimmering light rolled slowly closer.

We should be running, Mel thought, but she kept silent.

Gandalf leaned on his staff and for the first time Mel thought he looked old, very old, as old as she was sure he really was.

"A Balrog… a demon of the ancient world."

A growl echoed through the cavern as the fire slipped fluidly from archway to archway.

"This foe is beyond any of you. Run!"

Everyone turned and ran in the other direction, Gandalf leading the way through the maze of pillars. Mel ran as fast as she could, just trying to keep up. Adrenaline was starting to pump through her again. She didn't want to die in this hell-hole.

They burst through a small doorway and started to run down a flight of stairs, and it took a moment for Mel to realize…

"Boromir, wait!" she shouted, but he didn't hear her.

She watched him fly down the stairs and skid to a stop just at the edge of the broken stone. Legolas leapt after him as he wobbled on the edge of the abyss and pulled him back, both of them tumbling backward onto the stairs. Mel nearly went after them, but another stab of pain shot down her spine and she had to grip the doorway to keep standing.

"Lead them on, Aragorn!" Gandalf cried, "The bridge is near!"

Mel looked where Gandalf pointed. Across a vast space filled with a maze of stairs, a tiny stone bridge flickered in the distance. Near is a matter of opinion, Mel thought.

"Do as I say!" Gandalf cried and everyone turned as he shoved Aragorn down the stairs, "Swords are no more use here."

"Come, Mel," Legolas said, taking her hand again and pulling her down the stairs. Her back tingled and pain shot through her like lightning bolts.

"Legolas," she gasped, as he pulled her along behind him, "I don't think I'm going to make it!"

"Do not say that!" He snapped without even a glance back.

"No, you don't understand!" she shouted, "The stairs!"

But she didn't have to say anything else, because the gap loomed before them, the stairs crumbled away into oblivion. Legolas only paused for a moment.

"Jump with me!" he shouted and Mel balked.

"Legolas, I…"

"Now!"

Her brain didn't have time to register the jump. She was simply in the air, and then she landed on the other side. The impact sent a shockwave through every fiber of her, so excruciating that she couldn't stand. She tumbled to the stone, curled up and closed her eyes, clenching her fists in her clothes and gritting out a scream through clenched teeth. She couldn't hear, see, smell or feel anything. All she knew was pain. She was being swallowed up by it, the big black pit of unconsciousness yawning up before her…

"Mel!" Pippin's voice echoed somewhere in the black, "Mel, you have to get up!"

"Mel, get up!" Merry's voice was shaking her shoulder, "Mel, come on!"

They couldn't wait. They couldn't stay. If they stayed the Balrog would catch them. They would all die! Her eyes flew open.

"Run," She gasped.

The hobbits stepped back. She managed to get to her knees, fighting through the pain with everything that she had. She looked up, her eyes watering. Everyone was standing over her, looking down at her. They couldn't do that, they couldn't just stand here!

"Didn't you hear me?" she screamed, "Run!"

"Not without you, mellon-nîn," Legolas said, pulling her to her feet, "Come."

They ran on. Mel flew down the stairs, no longer thinking about the pain. If she didn't keep going the others might not either. She couldn't let that happen. What if she had already doomed them all?

The heat began to build around them, stifling in the stone hall. Mel was gasping and sweat was pouring down her face. They swung around a corner and suddenly the bridge was before them.

"Over the bridge! Fly!" Gandalf cried.

Everyone ran past him, Mel in the rear, pulled along by Legolas. Suddenly a wave of intense heat blasted over her and she heard a rippling roar. The Balrog had caught up with them.

Oh god, we 're in hell…

She was over the bridge so fast that she didn't have time to register the narrowness or the dizzying height or how much she weaved back and forth as she stumbled across. Everyone started up the stairs…

"You cannot pass!"

"Gandalf!" Frodo shouted.

Everyone turned back toward the wizard, who seemed so tiny and insignificant standing in the path of the flaming monster. Mel shivered and gripped Legolas' arm to keep steady.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Arnor!"

The light grew around Gandalf, but it seemed sluggish. Mel suddenly realized how tired he must be. How could he stand?

"The dark fire shall not avail you, Flame of Udun!"

The Balrog struck. The blow sent a shock wave through the cavern and you could hear the fiery blade shatter like glass against the light. Gandalf staggered and for a moment Mel's heart stopped. Had her injury drained too much of his power? Could he still stand and fight? But he caught his footing and stood steady again. The Balrog roared in rage and Mel sagged in relief.

"Go back to the Shadow!"

The fiery demon brandished its whip and cracked it against the rock. Embers flew through the air. The Balrog took a step. Gandalf held his staff and sword in the air.

"YOU! SHALL NOT! PASS!"

He drove his staff into the stone with a crash. Mel could hear the stone crack. But the Balrog didn't seem to notice. It took another step…

…and the bridge collapsed under its feet. The demon roared as it plunged into the deep blackness of the pit below. Gandalf leaned against his staff for a moment, peering over the edge of the crumbling bridge. Then he turned and looked directly into Mel's eyes. She tried not to let anything show on her face, but somehow, she thought Gandalf already knew what was coming. It was something in his eyes, something old and tired and resigned. He nodded solemnly. Then the whip wrapped itself around his ankle and jerked him backward into the dark. Mel surged forward involuntarily, but Legolas held her back. She didn't pull against him.

"Gandalf!" Frodo cried out.

Mel never took her eyes off the wizard. She could see the exact moment he stopped struggling.

"Fly you fools."

And then he was gone.

"NO!" Frodo screamed.

There were several seconds of heart-wrenching silence, everyone frozen, staring at the spot where the wizard had disappeared. It wasn't until the first arrows clattered to the stone steps that Boromir scooped up Frodo and started to carry him out as the hobbit struggled, still screaming, still reaching back toward the blackness.

"Aragorn!" Boromir shouted.

"Mel, we must go," Legolas said, tugging her up the stairs, toward the door that would lead them out of the mines forever.

But something didn't seem right. Mel pulled away from Legolas and looked back. Aragorn still stood on the edge of the chasm looking down in stunned silence.

He'll snap out of it, she thought, resisting Legolas' tug on her arm, waiting, surely he'll snap out of it.

But, he just stood there, looking into the dark like he was lost. The arrows were whizzing through the air, hitting the stone with sharp pings and clatters. Boromir still called his name, but Aragorn seemed deaf to it.

She waited until she couldn't stand it anymore. Mel wrenched her arm out of Legolas' grip and ran back, ignoring the elf's protests, praying that she wouldn't get shot. She got to the bottom of the stairs and grabbed Aragorn's hand, tugging on his arm. The touch seemed to bring him out of his trance and he looked at her blankly. She pulled him up toward the door.

"They need you, Aragorn."

He glanced up the stairs, where the company was huddling on the landing, waiting with wide eyes. An arrow flew between them and they jumped back, Aragorn finally seeming to notice that they were being shot at. He gripped Mel's hand more tightly and jerked them up the stairs, ducking another arrow as it flew by. When they moved, the rest of the company did too, spilling out of the door and stumbling, blinking into the sunlight. The fellowship scattered, the hobbits weeping uncontrollably, Gimli shouting and struggling, held back by Boromir. Legolas looked stunned, confused, lost. For a moment, Mel and Aragorn looked out over the barren rocks and Mel did not even realize that they were still touching until Aragorn squeezed her hand.

She looked up. His expression was sad, but calm. He searched her face for a moment, and whatever he found there must have brought him comfort. He managed a small smile.

"I do not know what still lies along this path for us," He whispered, "But I see in your eyes that hope is not lost. So I will do what I must."

Mel took a deep, shaking breath and squeezed his hand back. They were going to need Aragorn. It was time for him to do what he had been born to do. And she thought that finally, they understood one another.

Boromir looked up and saw a secret look pass between Aragorn and Melody. Then he saw their joined hands and that same pang of emotion sprang up in him, stronger than before. And it was mixed with anger, burning anger. The voice whispered to him again.

She doesn 't want you. She doesn't need you. She has strong men and elves to care for her. What need would she have for you? Why do you think she didn't speak of the wizard's passing? She doesn't trust you. You aren't enough. You will never be enough. You can't even save her, how do you expect to save your people? She will never tell you the truth. You cannot trust her. She will always lie to you.

He quickly looked away, but the thoughts stayed with him. When he looked up again they were no longer together. Aragorn had walked off a few paces and was cleaning his sword.

Boromir watched Melody. She looked out over the rocky slope, pity in her eyes. Her gaze found the hobbits, Merry and Pippin. She took a step toward them and then another, her hand raised as if she meant to offer them comfort.

And then she collapsed with a blood curdling scream. Boromir was up in an instant, but Aragorn was closer and reached her just a moment before he did. Boromir suppressed an angry growl. If the Ranger so much as touched her…

Then Legolas joined them and Boromir had to bite back another snarl. Elves were healers, Legolas would help her, he must let him help her. Legolas pulled her close and raised the back of her shirt. Boromir hissed through his teeth. The bruises had returned and she was starting to look frighteningly mangled.

"The fighting exacerbated the injury," Legolas said, glancing up at the two men hovering over him, "She will not be able to continue under her own strength."

Boromir felt unexpectedly conflicted. He didn't want the others to hold her, to be that close. The thought made his chest clench. But he also felt awkwardly repelled by her, that voice whispering secretly in his head, reminding him of all the secrets she had kept, horrors they had a right to know, things she should have said. How could he trust her?

"We will carry her," Aragorn said, "We three will take turns."

The horror he felt at the Ranger carrying Melody in his arms, quickly outweighed Boromir's distrust of her motives.

"I will take her first," He said, gently gathering her up from Legolas and cradling her in his arms before the others could think to argue.

She curled up close to him, stifling little cries in his tunic.

"Oh god," she whispered, her voice muffled, "Oh god, just kill me, please, just let me die…"

Legolas put a hand to her forehead.

"A serë, meldanya," he whispered, "A lorë… a lorë…"

Slowly her breathing became more even and she relaxed in Boromir's arms. Legolas took his hand away.

"It is the best I can do. She needs a healer."

Aragorn stood.

"We must make for the woods of Lothlorien. Legolas help me get the others up."

"Will she be alright?"

They all turned toward the unexpected voice, Boromir reflexively gripping Mel a little tighter to him. But it was only Frodo standing behind them, a blank look on his tear-streaked face. He spoke in a dead monotone.

"Will she be able to make the rest of the journey?"

Aragorn placed a comforting hand on the hobbit's shoulder.

"Let us try to get to Lothlorien first. Come, let's get the others."

As they walked away, Boromir resettled Mel's body in his arms, pressing her to his chest, listening to her steady breathing and feeling both comforted and uneasy. And that voice in his head kept whispering…

She lied to you. She hid the truth. How can you ever trust her again?

Chapter Text

She was swimming through a sea of voices. They murmured and whispered, swirling in and out of the blackness, enveloping her in currents of comforting sound. Mel settled back into the warmth of those voices, content to let them ebb and flow around her in soothing circles. But slowly a voice started to distinguish itself, pulling out of the sea of voices, making itself heard above the murmur. It was female, warm and dark. At first Mel couldn't make out any words, but she was definitely trying to say something. Mel listened closely.

"Calenhiril…"

She spoke to her the way the trees did, a voice in her head, only more than that, so much more …

"Melody Calenhiril, the time of choices comes quickly."

A face started to fade into focus, emerging from the darkness. Mel could see pale skin and thick, brown curls, but she could see the eyes, not yet. She tried to concentrate. The voice still spoke.

"You will choose, and from that choice will come many choices. This is not your fate, Melody Calenhiril. This is not the reason you were brought into this world. But you have already chosen and that choice has led you down a path more difficult, a road that will lead you far from where you were intended."

Mel could make out features in the face now, a sharp nose, a pair of small, red lips, but the eyes were still hidden, the eyes were important …

"Remember… every action has a consequence…"

The eyes opened and they were green, the brilliant green of leaves in springtime, only they were more than that, deeper, harsher, more powerful, and all she could see were the eyes …

"Choose wisely."

Mel gasped and jerked awake. She was on a soft mattress in a small bare room. Soft blue-white light filtered in through latticed windows. The voices in her head still murmured, a familiar sound that reminded her of Rivendell, only more somber. She tried to catch her breath as she realized where she was, where she must be.

"Welcome to Lothlorien, Calenhiril." A deep, resonating voice echoed softly in her mind.

"Mel?"

She turned her head and saw Sam leaning over her bedside, his brow furrowed in concern. She relaxed, settling back onto the mattress.

"Hi, Sam." She murmured.

His face exploded into a huge grin.

"You are awake! I have to tell the others!" And he ran out of the room.

Slowly, Mel pushed herself upright and took her first good look around her. The only thing in the room was the bed she was lying on and a small night table covered with bottles and cloths. She felt dazed. Why was she in this room? When had they gotten to Lothlorien?

She thought back to her last moments, trying to piece them all together. She remembered Gandalf's fall. She remembered Aragorn, she'd had to go back for Aragorn. She remembered Merry and Pippin. Poor Pippin, she wanted so much to comfort him, it wasn't his fault. She had taken a step toward him, reached out her hand, and then…

Pain. So much pain. Pain that she couldn't think through, couldn't see through, couldn't feel through. Then soft words, elvish words, and sleep, away from the pain. And then the green eyes…

"So, you finally decided to join us again."

Gimli's gruff voice penetrated her thoughts and she sighed, smiling at him despite his grumpy scowl.

"Hello, Gimli. Did you miss me that much?"

All she got in reply was a harrumph.

"If you're not going to say anything nice, dwarf, let the rest of us in!" Legolas exclaimed, shoving past him and striding to her bedside, smoothing back her hair and smiling gently down at her, "How do you feel, mellon-nîn?"

"Better," She said, "Much better."

"Mel, Mel, you're awake!"

Pippin and Merry came charging into the room, nearly knocking Gimli from his feet, and leaped onto the bed on both sides of her, both chattering nonstop about all the things that they had seen, about the elves and the trees and the lights, and the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood.

"I'm telling you, Mel, it was like she looked right through you!" Merry exclaimed.

"Then you must hope that you have nothing to hide."

The smile that had started to form on Mel's lips when she heard Boromir's voice disappeared the moment she met his eyes. He stood in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest, his face nothing but a blank, even stare. Something had happened. She had suspected in Moria, but now she knew. Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong.

Without another word, Boromir turned and walked out, brushing past Aragorn who watched him go with a wary eye. The Ranger turned back and met Mel's worried eyes.

"I do not know what troubles him, Mel. He carried you beyond the edge of the forest, well into the land of the elves, and would suffer no one else to touch you, not until you were placed in the charge of a healer," He approached the bed and put a hand on her shoulder, "But since we met with the Lady Galadriel, he hasn't even been in to see you. I don't know what she said to him, but he's been troubled by it ever since."

Mel managed a weak smile, "It's alright."

"Nan aear adh in elin!" an unfamiliar voice screeched.

Everyone in the room involuntarily winced, and Merry and Pippin both hopped off the bed like a couple of guilty children. A short, slender elf woman stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, looking thoroughly outraged.

"What in the name of Estë is going on? Out, out all of you!"

The elf (Mel suspected she must be one of the healers) clapped her hands and scurried into the room, making shooing motions as she chased them all out the door, Men, hobbits, and elves alike.

"Go! The lady needs her rest and peace if she is to heal properly. How you all got in here at once, I will never know! Out, you may see her one at a time when I say she is well enough, and not a moment sooner!"

Frodo and Sam managed to herd Merry and Pippin toward the door without much fuss, but Pippin turned his head and threw Mel a wink before Sam managed to drag him out by his elbow. Legolas and Aragorn hurried out after them, both looking appropriately chided and sheepish. But Gimli stood indignantly just inside the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and feet planted.

"I will not be bullied, pushed, or prodded! I am a dwarf, and I will go and stay where I please!"

"I do not care if you are Durin the Deathless returned!" the elf replied, crossing her own arms in a mirror of Gimli's stubborn posture, "If you do not leave this instant, Master Dwarf, I will not hesitate to call the Galadrim to remove you!"

"Don't you threaten me, woman!" Gimli shouted, shaking a finger emphatically, "I do not fear your blasted archers."

"Gimli, what about Lady Galadriel?" Mel asked quietly from her bed, trying to hide a smile, "What would she think if she found you being so hard to get along with?"

Gimli turned his glare on her, but Mel could see that the thought gave him pause.

"What the Lady of the Wood thinks means little to me," He grumbled (not very convincingly), "But I will leave quietly, if you wish it, Mel."

Mel was slightly stunned. That was almost… friendly of him. She managed to pull a coherent thought together quickly, but it took a lot of effort.

"If the healers still say I need my rest, then I probably need my rest," she said.

Gimli nodded once and jerked a thumb out the door.

"Well, we're not too far, so don't be afraid to shout if you feel you're being…" he gave the little elf-healer the side-eye, "…mistreated in any way."

Mel was so surprised that a laugh bubbled up and escaped her. She covered her mouth to contain it.

"Oh Gimli, I'll be fine!" she insisted, "Now go, so this nice lady can do her work."

Gimli grumbled and muttered a bit under his breath as he stomped out of the room, glancing back to give the healer one more suspicious glare.

"Sorry about that," Mel said, as soon as he was gone, "I can't imagine what's gotten in to him."

"Well, they were all very worried about you," the healer said, smoothing out her long tunic primly, "And dwarves are known to be quite protective of the things and people they care about."

"He doesn't even really like me," Mel said, staring out the now empty doorway where Gimli had disappeared.

The elf gave her a strange look, like she was a little crazy, but then shrugged it off and bustled over to the table with all the bottles and cloths, rearranging a few things.

"While, be that as it may, they should not have all converged on you like that, it's not good for the healing. Rest and quiet, that's what's needed. You shouldn't even be sitting up! Are you trying to undo all our hard work?"

She tied back her long, silky brown hair and and then moved to rearrange Mel's pillows. Mel sat up a little to get out of the way and winced. Her back did feel a little stiff. The elf was sharp and noticed the wince instantly.

"See what I mean?" she said, "You're healing well, Estë be praised, but you can't over exert yourself so early in the process."

Once Mel was settled flat again, the healer rinsed her hands in a basin and grabbed a bottle from the night table and a cloth.

"Now turn over."

Mel did what she was told. The elf rubbed a warm liquid over her back and Mel felt the familiar tingle and then numbness. The nurse helped her turn back over and held out a spoon of red liquid. It looked like cough syrup.

"Drink it up and don't make a fuss," she said firmly, "It will help you sleep."

The liquid was smooth and sweet with a hint of tang. Instantly, Mel felt herself getting heavy. She sank back into the pillows and sighed.

"What's your name?" she murmured.

The elf was rinsing her hands in the basin, "Eregwen."

"Thank you, Eregwen."

The elf turned and smiled, drying her hands on a towel.

"Thank me when you are well, Lady Melody."

Mel's eyes closed and she was asleep again.

Elvish Translations:

(Sindarin)

Nan aear adh in elin!- By the sea and stars! (Lothlorien dialect)

Chapter Text

When Mel woke again, Eregwen was still there, sitting quietly in a chair by her bed, stitching something in her lap. Mel saw a glass of water on the night table and tried to reach over quietly so as not to disturb her. But the elf's ears must have picked up some small sound, because before Mel could blink the healer was at her side, placing the glass in her outstretched hand.

"No need to work harder than you must," she said, "You've had a long journey."

Mel smiled and sipped the water. Which made her realize that her throat was as dry as sandpaper, and she started to gulp down the whole thing.

"That's enough of that!" Eregwen said, snatching the glass away from her, "You'll make yourself sick."

Mel sighed and lay back on the pillows, "How long have I been here?"

"Eight days."

Eregwen set the glass back on the night stand and rearranged some other things as Mel tried to piece together the timeline. But she couldn't remember how long the company was supposed to stay in Lothlorien.

"Your friends were very anxious for you," Eregwen said, shaking her head with an amused smile, "I should have known they would come the second you were awake."

"How am I now?" Mel asked.

The elf smiled, "You are mending quickly, thank Estë."

"Estë," Mel murmured, "You said that before. Who is that?"

Eregwen looked startled, "Why, she is the Valeir of healing. All the healers swear by Estë."

The healer stood and smoothed her tunic.

"I'll go and bring you some food. Try not to move around too much while I am gone."

Mel nodded and the little healer left her in the quiet room. Mel snuggled down into the bed and sighed. The air felt heavy here, but not oppressive, just… comfortable, like a soft blanket. She felt her eyes drifting closed.

"Lindel."

Her eyes flew open and she sat up. A tall, regal elf woman stood in the doorway, her graceful hands clasped demurely in front of her. Her long, blonde hair fell in waves to her waist and her white dress flowed around her, reflecting the unearthly glow that came from within her thin frame. Mel relaxed and sat back, smiling.

"I see now why Gimli is so smitten with you, Lady Galadriel." She said.

The lady smiled and took a step into the room.

"You should not tease the dwarf. He cares about you very much."

Mel snorted, trying not to laugh.

"Me? He doesn't even like me!"

"I think you would be surprised," Lady Galadriel said, coming to sit on the edge of Mel's bed, "How do you feel, Lindel?"

"Lindel, that's a new one. I haven't heard that word before."

"It is your name, in the tongue of the elves. How are you feeling?"

Mel shrugged.

"Okay. I'll be better when I get out of this bed. Not that the bed isn't comfortable, I just-"

"You wish to join your friends?"

Mel nodded, "Yeah, it feels weird not being out there with them."

Lady Galadriel put a hand on her knee, her expression somber.

"I am here to speak with you about your friends and the journey ahead," Her blue eyes pierced Mel straight through, but Mel steeled herself to meet them, "It would not be wise, Lindel, for you to continue with them."

Mel sighed and shook her head, resisting the bitter smile that threatened to turn up her lips. She should have seen this coming.

"You've been talking to Lord Elrond, haven't you?" she said, the quip rolling off her tongue almost effortlessly.

"You may mock my son-in-law, but his wisdom and insight should not be so lightly disregarded," Galadriel said, not unkindly, but firm, "We have both seen much of what is to come and all of it speaks of hardships beyond count. Especially in your current condition, I believe you would be a hindrance to-"

"Eregwen said I was getting better." Mel insisted.

Galadriel gave her a patronizing smile.

"Wounds such as yours are hard to judge."

"Then who are you to judge, my lady?" Mel snapped before she could bite her tongue.

She dropped her eyes and waited, letting her simmering anger cool a little. Lady Galadriel sighed and stood, walking to one of the windows, staring down into the softly lit forest.

"Lindel, I would like to be honest with you."

"I would appreciate that."

"You are not the one that troubles me. It is one of your companions."

And I don't need three guesses to tell me who.

"No, I'm sure you don't."

Mel jumped, and then rolled her eyes.

"Right, the mind-reading," she said, sighing, "What's he got to do with me?"

Lady Galadriel turned and gaped at her, her eyes wide as if she couldn't believe Mel had even asked the question.

"Why… everything," She whispered, "His thoughts and feelings for you are so conflicted it drives him to distraction. The danger-"

"Don't tell me about the danger!" Mel snapped, "Don't you think I know about the danger? Why do you think I came at all? I wasn't exactly taking a vacation out there!"

Mel managed to take a deep breath and collect herself before she spoke again. Lady Galadriel waited with what Mel thought was probably infinite patience.

"He would be conflicted with or without me," Mel said finally, giving the elf-queen a long stare, "I am not the root of the problem, Lady Galadriel. And I think you know that."

There was a moment of silence. Then Lady Galadriel's shoulders sagged a bit. She dropped her eyes, smiling and shaking her head.

"Of course," she whispered, "I am such a fool. With everything that you know, I forget that there are things that you cannot possibly…"

She paused, studying her hands, as if contemplating the wisdom of her next words. When she finally made up her mind, she came and sat back down on the edge of the bed, taking Mel's hands in hers. The elf-queen's skin was almost translucently pale against Mel's sun-browned fingers.

"I know that you are trying to save him," she said, leaning forward as if that would give more credence to her words, "But… Lindel, the Ring is using you to cloud his mind."

"Using me?" Mel asked.

"If only you could see his thoughts. He struggles every waking moment. And still the Ring is turning him against you."

Mel shook her head.

"No, that can't be right. I haven't done anything to make him turn against me."

Galadriel squeezed her hands.

"The Ring twists all truth. Even unspoken truth."

Mel jerked her hands away.

"I told you, I haven't done anything!" she snapped.

"Oh!"

Mel and Galadriel turned toward the soft exclamation. Eregwen stood in the doorway trying her best to drop into a curtsy with a loaded tray of food in her hands.

"Forgive me, my lady! I didn't mean to-"

"No need to apologize." Galadriel said, waving away the healer's protests, "I was just leaving."

She stood with a fluid grace and turned back to Mel, her blue eyes piercing.

"Think about what I've said Lindel."

Then she swept out of the room, nodding to Eregwen briefly as she passed. The healer managed another brief curtsy before bustling into the room in the lady's wake, setting the tray on Mel's bed and fussing with the bottles on the night table nervously.

"I am sorry I interrupted." she said.

Mel shrugged and grabbed an apple off the tray.

"Don't be. She wasn't saying anything important."

"The Lady Galadriel never speaks idle words," Eregwen said softly.

"Well, her assumptions were wrong anyway."

"The Lady Galadriel is rarely mistaken."

"Are you gonna argue with me, or let me eat?" Mel snapped and was instantly sorry for it.

Eregwen stiffened and straightened her tunic primly.

"Then I'll leave you in peace, my lady."

Her words were cold, and her brown eyes blazed with injured pride. Before Mel could even think to apologize, the healer spun on her heel and marched out of the room.

Mel sighed and tore apart a loaf of bread, dipping it into a bowl of broth as she thought about what Galadriel had said.

The Ring is using you … The Ring twists all truth…

But what truth was there to twist? She hadn't done anything. She racked her brain, trying to think of something she had done or said that could be turned against her. Or maybe what she hadn't said.

The Ring twists all truth… Even unspoken truth…

What hadn't she mentioned?

They have a cave troll … but I guess you already knew that.

Could it really be that simple? She didn't say anything about the cave troll? No, that couldn't be it. After all, he understood that she couldn't tell them those things. He had been on her side in Rivendell, right?

He is not the same man that brought you to Rivendell …

She had told Legolas that she understood, that she knew Boromir. But… did she really?

I will do whatever I must to keep the darkness from my home. Whatever I must …

The words seemed to swirl and tumble through her mind, confusing more than helping. It seemed impossible that he could turn on her so quickly. There had to be another explanation. Galadriel was wrong. After all, underneath it, he was still Boromir. He had to be.

Her mind was churning and it made her body antsy. She grabbed the second half of the bread loaf and swung her feet to the floor. She would go for a walk. Eregwen had said she was healing, and no one had said she was confined to her bed. What was keeping her from walking around a little?

She was dressed in a soft knee-length tunic and a pair of loose leggings, much like Eregwen wore, but unlike Eregwen, she felt less like an ethereal being of light and more like a gangly teenager at a slumber party. But she didn't see any other clothes lying around, so what she had would have to do. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to at least smooth out some of the tangles, but she soon gave that up too and walked out the door.

She paused on the landing. She was in… well, basically it was a treehouse. A really, really elaborate treehouse. The walls of the single room came together in a latticed dome that twisted together with the branches of the silver-barked tree to form a roof, with golden leaves creating a fluttering canopy over her head. Surrounding the flet (it took Mel a moment to pluck the word from her memory), was a wide, open walkway with a rope ladder dangling from the platform, leading down to the forest floor. Keeping a hand firmly planted on the wall of the flet, Mel edged forward and glanced over the side. She had never been particularly scared of heights, but she couldn't see how a handrail would have gone amiss here. It was an awfully long way down.

Carefully, Mel managed to drop over the edge and make her way down the rope ladder. She jumped down, skipping the last two rungs, just to see if she collapsed in pain. But she stood up and felt just fine.

She wiggled her bare toes in the soft grass and felt a warm glow all over. It was something about this place. The giant trees and the glowing lights and the soft air of Lothlorien seemed to fill her up completely and leave no room for worry or fear. She could hear the trees whispering to one another in gentle voices that belied their size. It was a comforting sound, something she had missed in Moria and not even realized it until now. She walked aimlessly, enjoying the soft grass and the cool breeze and feeling safe for the first time since Rivendell.

She wandered into a small clearing and stopped, taking a few steps back into the trees and staring with wide eyes. A large hill rose up out of the middle of the circle of trees, covered in tiny flowers of gold that the light of the stars seemed to brighten. Aragorn stood there, alone, a longing, thoughtful look on his face.

"This is where she promised to stay with me always," He said.

Mel wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or to himself, or if she should even be here at all. She sort of sidled behind one of the huge trees, but she couldn't take her eyes off the hill, glimmering softly in the night.

"She said she would forsake all others and be with me," Aragorn murmured, reaching down to pluck one of the tiny flowers, "Here, on Cerin Amroth."

There was a pause, and Mel considered just slipping quietly away. But Aragorn turned to where she was half-hiding and smiled at her.

"You are troubled, Mel," He said, "Come, speak with me a while."

She climbed up the hill and stood beside him, toeing sheepishly at the flowers.

"Sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to bother you."

"My heart is distracted, but my mind is clear," Aragorn said, "Tell me what stirs you from your healing. The elleth seemed to think you were not ready to move about."

"I feel fine. Eregwen said I was better. I didn't want to sit in that bed anymore."

"You should take your rest while you can. Our journey still stretches before us."

There was a pause and Aragorn seemed to sense the awkwardness that Mel felt. He turned to her, his eyes searching her face.

"But it is not mere restlessness that disturbs you."

Mel dropped her gaze back to her toes.

"Lady Galadriel came to see me."

Aragorn nodded, "She is very wise. Her words should always be considered with the greatest of care."

"But… I mean, she's not always right… is she?"

"What did she say to you, Mel?"

She didn't want to say it, especially to Aragorn. But she said it anyway.

"She doesn't think it would be a good idea for me to keep going with you."

Aragorn nodded, but his expression remained carefully neutral.

"Did she say why?"

"She did."

Aragorn waited for a moment, and then he seemed to understand.

"But you can't tell me, can you?"

Mel smiled and met his eyes again, "I did promise you. Remember?"

Aragorn smiled, "Yes, you did."

They stood in silence for a moment, while Aragorn collected his thoughts. Finally, he spoke again.

"Mel, you know how I feel. You've known since the first day you joined us."

"I know."

"And yet, you are stronger than you appear."

He took her hand in his, holding it up for her to see.

"With one hand, you pulled a man back from the brink of despair and hopelessness. If one man can be saved…"

He pressed a single stem of the tiny golden flowers into her palm and gently closed her fingers over it.

"Mel, you have the strength of body and mind. Now all that remains to be seen is if your heart can withstand the test that will be thrust upon it."

He pressed her hand insistently, his eyes intense.

"And I sense that the test is nearly upon you now. The time of choices comes quickly."

Mel drew in a sharp breath. The time of choices? Hadn't she heard that before? Where…?

Aragorn dropped her hand and Mel lost the thread of thought she'd been following.

"I have seen enough to trust your judgment, Mel." He said, "If you wish to come with us to the end, I will not stand in your way."

He paused and gave her a little half smile.

"I do not believe it would be of much use even if I did."

Mel returned his smile.

"But I will ask that you consider the words that I said to you the first night you joined us. I will ask that you think about why you are here. Give me your word and I shall be content."

Mel nodded. She remembered that conversation very well.

"I will," she said, "I do, actually. Every day."

Aragorn nodded and bent to pluck another stem of flowers.

"What about you, Aragorn?" she asked, without a trace of the resentment or anger that had tinged it the last time, "Do you think you understand your own fate?"

His face seemed to darken a bit.

"Every day it is becoming clearer."

Mel nodded, twirling the flowers in her hand absently.

"I wish mine was."

Chapter Text

Aragorn led Mel back out of the forest, with every intention of taking her back to the healing flet. Her back was starting to ache the tiniest bit and she thought that maybe she had overdone it a little. But on the way, they met Merry and Pippin, looking like they had just come from there. The second they were spotted, the hobbits broke into a run, Pippin catching them first and flinging himself at Mel's midsection.

"Mel, you're up, you're alright, we were just going to see you, but no one was there and…"

"Pippin," Mel gasped, semi-dramatically "Can't breathe…"

He let go and skipped back a couple of steps, tossing his messy curls out of his eyes.

"Sorry," He said, "But when we went looking for you and no one was around, well, we just didn't know…"

"We were worried about you is all," Merry said, elbowing his cousin in the side to get him to stop rambling.

"You just saw me yesterday!" Mel said, laughing, "What did you think had happened?"

"I dunno, could have been anything!" Pippin exclaimed indignantly, "And that elf shoved us out so fast we didn't have a chance to get a proper look at you! You could have been dying to hear her tell about it!"

Mel rolled her eyes, and ruffled Pippin's hair.

"Well, I'm sorry I worried you," She said, "But as you can see I'm perfectly fine, so you don't need to trouble your cute little heads about it anymore, okay?"

"You're well?" Pippin asked, his eyes bright, "Does that mean that you'll be staying with us now?"

"She most certainly will not!" a familiar voice snapped, seemingly out of nowhere.

The hobbits winced, again like guilty children. Mel shuffled a little bit herself, as Eregwen strode out of the trees, hands clasped behind her, back straight as a rod.

"I have been searching everywhere for you, Lady Melody," the healer said, glancing down at the two hobbits, who were toeing at the ground and staring up at the trees, trying to look innocent and managing to look even more guilty than they actually were, "I should have known these two might have something to do with it."

"They didn't," Mel said, "I just went for a walk and we ran into each other."

Eregwen raised a skeptical eyebrow. Mel thought about what she had just said.

"Okay, I admit, that sounds a little suspicious, but I swear it is actually the truth."

"If anyone is at fault, Mistress Healer, it is me," Aragorn said, sketching a small bow to the elf, "I found Mel in the woods and I am afraid I have kept her too long, rather than returning her as I should have. I do hope we have not caused too much trouble for you."

Eregwen put forth a valiant effort, but Aragorn's soothing, elegant words were too much and she sighed, relaxing her stiff pose a bit.

"I suppose a short walk can't have done too much harm. But I would like a little warning next time, if you don't mind Lady Melody."

"Her name is Mel," Pippin piped up, "She doesn't like the 'Lady' stuff."

Eregwen turned back toward the hobbits just in time to see Merry smack Pippin on the back of the head.

"What's the matter with you, you idiot?"

Eregwen raised another eyebrow, and Merry suddenly realized that he had an audience. He cleared his throat and managed a deep, graceful bow.

"Pardon him, ma'am. He's just a country bumpkin you see, and not used to the presence of nobility and all that."

"I'm no more a country bumpkin than you!" Pippin said indignantly, rubbing the back of his head.

Eregwen's face had slowly been softening into a smile, and then she laughed a cheerful, hearty sound that bounced off of the trees.

"You've no need of my forgiveness, Master Hobbit. Indeed, you have my thanks. Never have I been mistaken for nobility and the thought flatters me."

Both of the hobbits turned bright red and hung their heads, shuffling in the grass.

"And never again will I make the mistake of calling your friend by the wrong name. Mel she shall be!"

She turned back to Mel, who was trying to hide a smile behind her hand.

"And I'm afraid, Mel, that it is high time to bring this little evening stroll to an end. You are healing quickly as I said, but you still need rest or you will strain yourself and be worse than useless."

Mel started to argue, but at that moment some insignificant movement stretched a sore muscle in her back, and she winced. Eregwen's sharp eyes caught the movement and the elf gave her small smile that might have almost been a smirk.

"Shall we, Mel?" she asked, holding out her hand.

Mel sighed and relented, allowing the healer to take her arm and lead her away. But after only a few steps the elf paused and, after some thought, turned back.

"I have greatly enjoyed your company, little masters. I hope we might repeat the experience. You and your friends may visit Mel in the morning."

The hobbits' faces brightened.

"Yes, ma'am!" they shouted simultaneously, before taking off running down the road, presumably to tell the others. Aragorn rolled his eyes and managed short bow to the two ladies as he turned to follow them at a quick pace.

Eregwen smiled after them before turning to lead Mel back to the flet.

"They're cute aren't they?" Mel asked, grinning, "Little guys get right under your skin and stick there. Trust me, I know."

Eregwen's smile widened, but then it faded a little.

"They are very young to be on such an adventure."

Mel nodded, "Yeah, but they'll be alright. They're stronger than they look."

Eregwen looked at Mel curiously.

"Do you truly know what will happen to them? Do you have the foresight as everyone says?"

Mel shook her head. How had a rumor like that gotten started here?

"What have you heard about me, Eregwen?"

"I know you are from a strange land and you have great power, though the rumors of that power are vague and vary wildly in the telling."

Mel smiled, "Well then, let me tell you a story."

As they walked, Mel explained where she was from as best she could, and what had happened to her since she had arrived in Middle Earth. By the time she was done, they had arrived back at the flet and Eregwen was sitting in her chair, her chin in her hands, listening intently as Mel finished her story.

"…and I guess that's when you got me." Mel finished, sitting back on the pillows and letting her shoulders relax for the first time since she'd started talking.

Eregwen waited a moment, as if letting all of the information sink in before attempting to speak.

"So, the trees really speak to you?" she asked.

Mel nodded.

"Are they speaking right now? What do they say?"

"Well, right now they're just murmuring to each other."

"Can you ask them questions?"

"Of course."

Eregwen sighed and sat back in her chair.

"I would have so many questions to ask."

"Like what?" Mel asked, burrowing further into her pillows and sipping at a warm cup of sweet tea.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin!" Eregwen sat up, "There must be so many things that they know. Do you think they have history? Stories they pass down to their saplings?"

"Of course we do." A deep voice responded, the same voice that had first welcomed her to Lothlorien.

Mel gently set her tea cup in her lap and smiled.

"I hope you'll forgive me," she said to him, "I guess I've been pretty rude. I haven't even asked for your name."

"Mel?"

Mel jumped, her eyes focusing on the flet again and the elf in it. Eregwen was staring at her intently.

"What is it?" she asked, "You were suddenly very far away."

"Sorry," Mel said, "Someone else is talking to me. I haven't quite gotten the hang of having two conversations at once."

Eregwen leaned forward, her eyes bright and eager.

"A tree? Who is it? Which one?"

"Right underneath you." The tree answered, a hint of amusement in his somber voice.

Mel smiled and pointed at the branches twined above them.

"This one."

Eregwen jumped to her feet, her eyes startled.

"The one we are in right now?"

"Please tell her to sit and be calm, Calenhiril. I mean her no harm."

"He says to sit down and calm down. He's not going to hurt you."

Eregwen sat down gingerly. She looked like she was ready to jump again at any moment.

"What's your name?" Mel asked.

"Maltalda."

Mel cocked her head curiously.

"Say again?"

"Maltalda. It's elvish."

Mel turned to Eregwen who was watching her with fascination.

"What does Maltalda mean?"

Eregwen sat up a little, "Gold Tree. Is that his name? Is it a him? What is he saying?"

"Yes, that's his name. That's all he's had a chance to say."

"What would Eregwen ask of me, Calenhiril? She has been healing the sick in my branches for many years and I wish to answer any questions she may have."

"He wants to know what questions you want to ask. He says that you've been taking care of people in his branches for a long time and he wants to answer your questions."

The elf's eyes got wide, "He knows me?"

Mel smiled and nodded, "Yep, he even knows your name."

Eregwen stood and took a few cautious steps until she was facing the wide silver trunk that sprouted out of the floor and disappeared into the ceiling.

"Can he hear me?" she asked.

"Yes, he can hear you."

For a moment Eregwen just stared at the smooth bark. Then she looked up into the branches above them, almost reverently.

"Maltalda, if you have been watching me, I wish to know… did I…"

Her voice cracked and Mel saw tears well up in the elf's eyes, but she blinked them away.

"Did I do all I could for Aranel?"

Mel heard the sigh in her head, a sad sigh.

"I know of whom she speaks. Will you give her my words, Calenhiril?"

"Of course."

Mel listened for a moment. Then she translated to Eregwen, who hadn't turned from the tree.

"He says he doesn't know much of the workings of elves…"

Eregwen hung her head and gave a shaky sigh.

"…but he also says that from watching you, he has learned the workings of the heart very well. He believes that Aranel's heart was glad during his time in this flet. And his heart was peaceful when he left it."

The elf pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to cover a sob that escaped.

"In answer to your question, Eregwen, yes. Everything that could have been done for Aranel was done."

Eregwen closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself. Then she pressed both hands gently to the tree trunk.

"Thank you, Maltalda." She whispered.

Then she wiped her eyes and turned back to Mel, who had averted her eyes to give the elf some privacy, "Thank you, Mel. Forgive me, I… I must leave you for a while."

Mel nodded and Eregwen swept out of the room.

"That question has shadowed her for many centuries. I am glad that I was able to finally answer." Maltalda said.

"I hope she's okay." Mel said.

"She is much like your hobbit friends, Calenhiril. She is stronger than she appears. And yet also more vulnerable."

"I think I could go the rest of my life without hearing one more riddle, thanks," Mel said, "I've had more than my fair share today."

"You are tired, Calenhiril, you really should rest."

Mel completely agreed. She was exhausted. She snuggled down into the blankets and closed her eyes, the gentle sound of rustling leaves lulling her to sleep.

Chapter Text

For the next week or so, Eregwen insisted that Mel stay confined to her room, and Mel was willing to oblige her. She found that she was rarely bored, even cooped up in her bed. She and the healer had many more conversations with Maltalda, which Mel found very enjoyable. The mallorn tree had a soft, gentle personality and he seemed to enjoy the conversations with his long-time resident, even with the inconvenience of a translator. Mel also had many visits of a less rooted variety. Merry and Pippin seemed to have made themselves personally responsible for her visiting schedule. They brought everyone in turn, Sam, Frodo, Legolas, even managing to drag in Gimli once or twice, though the dwarf insisted that he was merely "checking to make sure everything was in order" before he shuffled out again. Mel tried not to laugh at his awkwardness. It was strangely endearing, if a little confusing. Mel still didn't know exactly where she stood with the dwarf and she wasn't sure if she would ever know, but not being hated was a good start. She was willing to let the past stay there as long as he was.

All in all, she was content, happy even. At least during the day. Her nights were haunted by strange dreams, dreams that she could barely remember once she was awake. It was never exactly the same dream. Some were of Galadriel, some of Aragorn, some were even of Gandalf. She even had a recurrence of the dream she'd had in Rivendell, the dream of Amon Hen. But no matter the differences, each dream ended the same way, in faded faces, half-remembered words, and always a pair of green eyes piercing her with a power that made her feel as if it might melt her with a glance. And a single phrase, echoed over and over until it invaded even her waking thoughts.

The time of choices comes, Calenhiril …

The morning after one particularly strange dream involving Amon Hen, she woke thrashing and gasping and as she tried to catch her breath, it occurred to her that Boromir had not been in to see her. He hadn't seen her since she first woke, her last memory of that cold, blank stare embedded on her brain. Where was he? The worrying question niggled in the back of her mind through breakfast with Eregwen, who seemed to understand that she was preoccupied and left her to her thoughts. Merry and Pippin bounced in a little later and she decided to put the question to them.

"So, where's Boromir?" she asked, jokingly, "Did he go hide under a rock or something?"

But the hobbits didn't laugh. They glanced at each other nervously, then hung their heads and began to study their toes. Mel stopped smiling. Something was very wrong.

Can your heart withstand the test?

"What's up guys?"

Pippin looked puzzled, and then stared up at the ceiling. Merry elbowed him in the side, making him yelp.

"Idiot," He muttered, "You don't pay a whit of attention to how she talks, do you?"

Pippin rubbed his side and glared at his cousin, but Mel wasn't about to let them get distracted.

"Guys? What's wrong?"

Merry ran his hands through his hair, "Well, nothing in particular. It's just that… Well, Boromir…"

"We're scared to ask him to come." Pippin finished quickly.

That surprised Mel a bit. The hobbits loved Boromir, they worshiped him.

"Why?"

"He's just been in this strange mood since we got here." Merry said.

"He sits for hours and just stares at nothing." Pippin added.

"And sometimes he talks to himself. Whispers, murmurs when he thinks no one's around."

"And then he'll get in these horrible tempers and just start yelling at everyone!"

"And sometimes no one can find him at all. He just goes off by himself for hours and hours…"

"Oh Mel!" Pippin exclaimed desperately, "We wish you were there! He always liked you."

There was a pause while Mel absorbed all of this. It had to be the Ring, taking him in bits and pieces, tearing him apart. And she had been lying in bed all this time, as useful as a sack of potatoes! She was angry at herself, but she was also a little hurt. It hurt that he hadn't come to her, that she had to hear from others what was happening. This was why she was here. Even if she hadn't wanted to admit it at first, it was true. And now she wasn't doing anything!

Merry and Pippin were both watching her with wide eyes. She forced her face to relax and unclenched her angry fists. She smiled.

"Gentlemen, I think it's time I got out of this bed. A walk would do me good."

Their faces lit up as she threw the covers off her legs and stood up.

"Do you really think that's wise, Calenhiril?" Maltalda asked, "Eregwen will worry again."

"She'll have to worry then," Mel said, as she followed the hobbits out the door, "My friends need me."

Mel followed Merry and Pippin as they scampered down the rope ladder and led her to their little camp, in a clearing only a few minutes' walk from her flet. Just as they stepped out of the trees, clear elvish voices began to sing the light notes of a song, sad and lilting, echoing from the treetops. It was as if time stopped to listen to the soft, floating notes. Everyone was suddenly still in reverence and awe.

"A lament for Gandalf," Legolas murmured, looking up into the trees.

Mel reached out and gripped Pippin's shoulder. He was trembling.

"What do they say about him?" Merry asked quietly, following Legolas' gaze into the treetops.

"I have not the heart to tell you," Legolas said, dropping his head for a moment before he turned a sad smile to the hobbit, "For me the grief is still too near."

He noticed Mel then, but he seemed unable to find the words to speak to her. He merely nodded, and Mel smiled and returned the gesture before the elf disappeared into one of the tents.

Merry and Pippin started to fidget nervously, so Mel touched their shoulders and with a gesture sent them scurrying off to their own bedrolls where they started organizing little things nervously. Mel quietly eased herself down to sit at the base of one of the mallorn trees, tucking her legs up underneath her and allowing the song to sink into her ears and skin and heart.

"I bet they don't mention his fireworks," Sam muttered from a tent close by, "There should be a verse about them."

Mel closed her eyes and smiled as Sam began to recite.

"The finest rockets ever seen

They burst in stars of blue and green.

Or after thunder silver showers

Came falling like a… rain of flowers… Oh! That doesn't do them justice by a long road!" He exclaimed.

"It was beautiful, Sam." Mel whispered.

She didn't open her eyes. She just wanted to take in all the sounds around her, sounds of peace and sadness, rolled together and flowing through the trees like a silver river over smooth stones. Even though she knew Gandalf was going to be alright, that he was coming back, it made her heart ache to see all of them hurting so much from his loss. If only they knew that the loss was actually a gain…

She sighed and whispered a prayer, "Come quickly, Gandalf. Your little company needs you."

"What do you pray?"

Boromir's voice broke the stillness. Mel's eyes snapped open and she saw him crouched just a little to her right, his eyes narrowed in a cool stare.

"What do you pray, one who knows all things?" His voice had a hard, cruel edge.

Everyone had frozen and was staring at them. Legolas emerged from his tent.

"Boromir…" the elf said, a soft warning.

But the man ignored him, rising to his feet and taking slow, measured steps in Mel's direction, his eyes glittering.

"You knew what would happen," He hissed through his teeth, "We could have taken the Gap of Rohan. But you said nothing."

Mel didn't flinch from his glare. She had nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to apologize for. He should have understood. He should have known. What was happening? Why didn't he understand?

"You knew what the hobbit would wake in the mines!" Boromir snarled, gesturing wildly, "You knew of the horrors that waited for us in the depths of Moria! And you said nothing!"

Mel glanced at Pippin. His head drooped and his cheeks burned with shame and regret. Mel's blood began to simmer and she clenched her fists. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't…

"You knew that Gandalf would fall! And you did NOTHING!"

Boromir towered over her, his face red with rage, and Mel didn't know whether to scream or cry. She ended up doing both.

"What did you want me to do?!" she shouted, scrambling to her feet so he couldn't loom over her anymore, "There are things that I can't change, Boromir, and it's messy and awful and I hate it, but if you want to save this world…"

"Some sacrifices must be made?" He snapped, "Is that it, then? Who else is to be lost? One of the little ones next? Will you sacrifice them for the good of your precious fairy tale? What about me, Melody? Am I also just a pawn in the little game you are playing?"

Mel jerked back, touching the tree trunk behind her to keep her world from spinning out of control. He had come so close to the truth… The tree shuddered under her touch, the sound like deep, rolling thunder and Mel tried to quiet him, and to keep the horror of Boromir's words from her face. But the man was so angry he didn't even seem to notice her reaction. He just kept shouting, while Mel was left speechless.

"What about the people? Whole races! Are they just to be tossed aside?" He grabbed her arms, jerking her upright and shaking her, "I know you know the truth! Tell me! Will my city fall? Will I save my people from destruction and ruin?"

Mel barely noticed Aragorn and Legolas in the corner of her eye, leaping to their feet, taking a few quick steps and pausing, tense, waiting. Her vision blurred as the tears finally came. She had seen it in his eyes. He hated her. He hated everything she knew and did, every decision she made. And suddenly, her life no longer held purpose. There was no meaning to what she did.

She ignored the tear that managed to swell and trickle down her face. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

"No," she whispered, "You will not save them."

His face hardened. And then he flung her away. She slammed into the trunk of the tree and white-hot pain shot through her as she slid to the ground, momentarily dimming her sight. But she didn't cry out. She wouldn't give him that.

"Mel!"

She felt Legolas' slender arms wrap around her and she allowed him to help her sit up, blinking away the spots that were still clouding her vision. She looked up at the man she had once called her friend and she didn't feel anything. She didn't feel loss or pain. There was just… nothing. She was empty.

"You speak lies, woman." Boromir spat, "Let the elf care for you, but I will not."

Mel nodded slowly.

"Nor I for you, Boromir," She murmured, "You are truly your father's son."

Those last words seemed to hit him harder than if she had physically struck him. He stumbled back and for a moment his anger vanished, replaced by wide eyes and a slack jaw, moving briefly as if he were searching for words. But then his face set itself in stone again and he whirled away, crashing haphazardly away into the trees.

Legolas' arms were still around her. Mel sniffed and wiped her eyes, surprised by how many tears she had actually shed. She still felt like a hollow shell.

She looked up at the elf and smiled.

"I guess I was wrong, Legolas."

He stared at her, his brow furrowed in confusion and worry.

"I told you that I know Boromir. But that man…"

She turned back to the place where the man had vanished into the woods.

"I don't know that man."

Chapter Text

Of course, when Mel came limping back to the healing flet, leaning on the arm of Legolas, Eregwen was furious.

"What did I tell you about pushing yourself too hard? I knew this was going to happen, days of work undone! Get back in bed this instant! And you two!"

Eregwen whirled on Merry and Pippin, who were both staring at the floor, hands behind their backs, identical forlorn looks on their faces.

"What were you thinking taking her off gallivanting through the woods? You should be taken out and whipped, all of you!"

Mel, now safely back in bed, tugged on the raging healer's sleeve, "It was my idea, Eregwen."

She spun back to Mel, eyes flashing, "I don't care whose idea it was, they should have known…!"

"Please," Mel said, her eyes half closed, "Just leave them alone. We've been through hell today."

Eregwen narrowed her eyes and looked up at Legolas, arms crossed.

"Well? What happened?"

Legolas' face remained emotionless, "There was a fight. She was pushed and hit a tree."

Eregwen nodded, "Right. Let's get you turned over."

Mel obeyed, but she couldn't hide the wince. Eregwen pulled up the back of her shirt and sighed, exasperated.

"Days of work," She mumbled, "Whoever did this should be strung up by his ears! May the Valar have mercy if I ever find him!"

"May the Valar have mercy whether you find him or not," Mel muttered.

"You just keep quiet," Eregwen ordered, but her tone had softened considerably, "You three, out."

Mel heard the scuffling of feet and then sounds of glass clinking, followed by the familiar cool, tingling sensation as the healing salve was smoothed onto her skin.

"Estë be with us or you'll never be healed in time." Eregwen murmured, almost to herself.

Mel sighed, "It doesn't matter now."

Eregwen hesitated, and then continued rubbing in the ointment.

"I think it would matter a great deal to the little ones. They adore you."

"I told you, they'll be fine."

"And the elf-prince? And the dwarf, who will look after him?"

Mel rolled her eyes.

"They'll all be fine, Eregwen, and Aragorn too, in case you were thinking of asking. They don't need anyone looking after them."

The elf was silent for a long moment.

"And… the other? The one who does not come?"

Mel took a deep, slow breath and sank further down into the emptiness that had so far kept her safe.

"Everyone that is supposed to be fine will be fine." She answered.

Eregwen stoppered her jar, "I see. And you are content with that?"

Mel pulled her shirt down herself and turned over gingerly so she could look the healer in the eye.

"Eregwen, I can't save a man that doesn't want me to save him."

Eregwen nodded solemnly. Then she briskly turned and cleared the night stand, washing her hands in the water basin.

"Your back isn't as bad as I first thought. I think a few days of good rest and everything will be as it was."

She dried her hands and then sighed, smoothing back Mel's hair in a gesture of surprising tenderness.

"Get some sleep, Mel. I'll bring your breakfast in the morning."

Mel smiled obligingly and closed her eyes, sinking deeper into the hollow shell where her heart should be.

Legolas wasn't angry. The emotion he was feeling was too raw, too powerful to be defined in such simple, common terms. It flowed through him, unchecked, uncontrolled, setting his blood on fire. He stalked through the trees with no thought to anything, not the hobbits hurrying to keep pace with his swift strides or the sounds of the forest as he passed. Nothing occupied his mind…

…except for the look on her face.

He had seen Mel happy, sad, angry, even terrified, but he had never seen anything like what he had seen tonight, that heartbroken emptiness. He had only ever seen such an expression on those of his own kind, the ones that left the forests and traveled West, searching for the boats that would carry them away toward the lights of Valinor. He had never seen it on the face of Mankind, whose lives were so fleeting and whose hearts were quick to heal. Somehow that made the expression all the more devastating in its finality, like there was nothing left in the world that held meaning or would ever hold meaning again. And she was so young. Too young. She would always be too young for such things. It was… unimaginable, that she should give up now.

In truth Legolas had never known exactly what Mel was trying to do, but she had been struggling with it in her heart since the moment he had laid eyes on her. And now it was finished, before it had even properly begun. He had watched the light of hope disappear from her eyes and that had been when this feeling had descended on him. It felt very much like he would feel on a hunt or before a battle, his senses heightened, focused on everything and nothing, all in pursuit of a target. His vision was clear, but his mind's eye was clouded with rage.

He slipped into the clearing on silent feet, the hobbits left far behind. He reached for the first of his weapons, his knives, and smoothly drew them from their sheaths. Legolas was nearly upon him before Boromir realized there was any danger.

But the large man was quicker than the elf had anticipated. He was on his feet, sword in hand, before Legolas had time to strike. The sword parried the knives and swung wildly as Boromir tried to gain his footing. But the elf was agile and swift, even in his fury. He dropped to a crouch, missing the blade easily and came up again, knives flashing, trying to catch him under his guard. Once again the sword came about and deflected the blows, throwing Legolas back a bit. The elf would have thrown himself back into the battle while Boromir was off balance were it not for Aragorn stepping between them, sword drawn.

"Enough!"

All activity in the clearing had ceased. The only sounds to be heard were the sounds of the night and the fighters' heavy breathing.

"How are we to have strength to fight our enemies when we are fighting amongst ourselves?"

"Or being stabbed in the back!" Boromir spat.

"Death in combat is too good for you!" Legolas snapped, his nerves tense and trembling, "What honor is there in a man who would treat a lady, a friend, with such disrespect and disdain, as if she were nothing more to him than the ground he walks on? There are others who would die for her!"

"Like you?" Boromir snarled.

Legolas glared, but did not answer.

"Would you die for her affection, elf? As I said, if you want her, have her!" He sheathed his sword, "It is of little matter to me."

"You really don't understand, do you?" Legolas said, still glaring, "It matters not what I want, or what you want."

"What I want," Boromir hissed, taking a step closer, "is not to be lied to and betrayed by someone I once called a friend. I wonder if you will think so highly of her if it is you that is the next to die and she does nothing to stop it."

Something finally fell into place in Legolas' mind, something that had puzzled him since the moment Mel had been discovered in their camp outside of Rivendell. Something he should have seen long ago.

"And I wonder if you will think so little of her if it is you that is to die and she has been doing everything in her power to prevent it."

Boromir snorted derisively and stepped back, "She uses her power only to make sure that all goes according to whatever plan she has in her mind. If you believe anything less you are a fool, Legolas."

Boromir turned his back on the elf and slunk away. But Legolas was no longer angry. He watched him go, a sad smile tugging on his lips and heart.

"No, Boromir. I fear you are the fool."

Chapter Text

The dream came almost instantly. Mel wandered through an unfamiliar forest, warm golden light reflecting through the trees, who were silent as if in a hush of wonder and admiration. The silence was eerie. Mel pushed through a thick bit of underbrush into a wide clearing covered in grass so green it was almost otherworldly. The woman from her other dreams, the one she could never quite remember, stood at the far end of a perfect oval, her hands folded against her soft green dress.

"Welcome, Melody Calenhiril."

Her voice was deep and powerful, and as always Mel felt a vague sense of awe in her presence.

"Who are you?" she whispered, "How do you know that name?"

The woman 's face suggested only the vaguest hint of a smile.

"I know it because I gave it to you, child."

It took a moment for Mel's dreamy brain to make the connection.

"You're … You're Yavanna, aren't you?"

The goddess's head tilted in acknowledgment, then she reached toward her with one slender hand.

"Come. The choice must yet be made."

Mel took a step into the clearing and jumped when she heard gravel crunch beneath her. A path had appeared, winding through the grass until it branched off at Yavanna 's feet, left and right. The goddess raised her hand and paused for a moment before she spoke again.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth …"

Yavanna 's hand waved gracefully through the air toward the left-hand path. As Mel watched, the light brightened over the woods where the gravel disappeared, replaced by dead leaves, broken branches, and pieces of old forgotten statues crumbled by time and war. Slowly, the outline of a figure began to take shape in the distance, but the shadows were too thick to see clearly. Mel strained her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of who…

Then, like the sun bursting through a clouded sky, the light surged into almost blinding brightness, and the man turned toward her. It was Boromir, his gray eyes stormy and dark and his face set in a scowl. But as the light started to dim, Mel thought she saw a glimmer, a hint of softness return to him. Before she could be sure, the light faded and the vision disappeared.

Yavanna's voice echoed out once more.

"Then took the other, just as fair

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same …"

The goddess gestured to the right. Mel obediently turned and looked. This path looked vaguely familiar somehow, and she wondered briefly if she had dreamed it before. It wound its way slowly through a golden valley, glowing in the soft sunlight. And nestled in the valley was a familiar sight, Rivendell basking in the afternoon. She smiled. It felt safe, secure. It felt like home. Something moved in the trees beside the path and her head jerked toward the movement, but it was gone. The light faded and once again she was left alone in the clearing with Yavanna.

She glanced down both darkened path, then back at at the Valeir.

"Those are my options?" She asked.

Yavanna nodded, her hands once more folded gently against her skirt.

"It is no one's choice but yours, Calenhiril."

"But… I mean, I can't save him," Mel said, "He…"

She swallowed, forcing the bitter words out of her mouth.

"He … He hates me."

Yavanna 's head tilted slightly to the side, but her expression was unreadable.

"It is not his choice."

"What do you want with me? Why did you bring me here? Tell me what I'm supposed to do!"

" It is not my choice, Calenhiril. Only you can choose your path."

"I didn't choose this!" Mel snapped, thrusting out the hand that wore the Yavannacor and waving it at her, "You did!"

Yavanna paused, her brow furrowed, the most expression Mel had seen on her face yet. The Valeir took two gliding steps forward and cupped Mel 's hand in her own, turning it so that the light caught the ring and made it glisten.

"The ring chooses its mistress." She murmured, "You were chosen, Melody Calenhiril, before the beginning of what you call time, part of the song we sang at Eru 's feet before the world came into existence. But nothing is forced on any of His children, not even the ones chosen for great tasks. There is always a choice, and you may choose how you wish, but every choice has consequence."

She looked straight into Mel's eyes, the green of her gaze nearly painful in it 's intensity.

"Choose wisely."

Mel jerked awake and for a moment lay very still. The dream had ended so abruptly that it took her a minute to remember where she was. She caught her breath and turned over, laying on her back and staring at the twisted branches of the ceiling, trying to make sense of it. The first choice was obvious and pointless. She felt something bitter burning in her chest and she shoved it deep inside herself, locking it away. The second choice puzzled her. Why Rivendell? Couldn't she just as easily stay here, in Lothlorien? Or was Rivendell symbolic of something else? Falling back, defeat maybe? Or… Was there something waiting for her in Rivendell?

Mel shook her head and yawned, stretching her back carefully. It felt better already. Something on her arm caught her eye and she turned it over to get a better look. It was a bruise, greenish-purple, just large enough to be a hand print. She looked at her other arm and found a matching bruise. She shivered and tugged down her sleeves to cover the marks. Gray, stormy eyes swam in her mind. She closed her eyes and forced the vision away.

Eregwen cleared her throat, standing in the doorway with a tray in her hands.

"Forgive me, I didn't expect you to be awake so soon."

Mel smiled, "I had a weird dream and it woke me up. What's that? It smells great!"

Eregwen hurried inside and set the tray on the bed.

"Just some porridge with roasted apples and a bit of honey. I know how much you like apples, you should like this." She handed Mel a steaming bowl and took one for herself, "Careful it's hot, fresh from the fire."

Mel took a spoonful and blew on it, before tentatively putting it in her mouth. Flavor exploded on her tongue and she had to remind herself to cool off the next bite before she shoved it in her mouth.

"Eregwen, this is amazing! Did you make this?"

The elf blushed, "It was nothing. Just a little something my mother used to make for us."

"Well, you'll have to thank her profusely for me because this is the best!" Mel said before shoveling another bite into her mouth.

A sad smile passed over Eregwen's face.

"When I get to the Undying Lands I will be sure to tell her."

Mel had to force herself to swallow past the lump that formed in her throat.

"Oh," she whispered, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Eregwen waved away her apology, "It's alright. How could you have known? My mother and father passed over the sea many years ago. It was sad, but I believe now that it was necessary. They were no longer happy here, after Aranel…"

She paused, and then she looked up and smiled again, this time much brighter.

"But you don't want to hear my life story, we would be here for ages upon ages!"

Mel considered pursuing the subject, but there was a small nudge in her mind that urged her not to. She recognized Maltalda's gentle voice and decided to take his advice. She smiled and finished her bowl of porridge.

There was a soft knock on the doorframe of the flet and Mel looked up. Frodo was standing in the doorway. She smiled and waved him over.

"Hello, Frodo, come in."

He shuffled inside, but stood a little back from the bed, looking indecisive.

"I just wanted to talk to you a minute, Mel. Make sure you were alright. You know, after… yesterday…"

He seemed nervous, shifting from foot to foot and twisting his hands together anxiously. Eregwen seemed to take this as an unspoken hint and stood, gathering up the breakfast tray.

"Well, I have a few things that need restocking from the main halls. I'll leave you for a moment, Mel, if you'll promise me that I won't have to come find you later."

Mel smiled, "No fear of that anymore, I think. I'm done wandering."

Eregwen narrowed her eyes, but she only nodded and left the room. Frodo relaxed a bit when the healer had gone, but only a little. He stepped up to Mel's bed and absently brushed at the blanket before clasping his hands behind his back nervously.

"How's your back?" He asked, "Looked like a pretty nasty hit you took."

"It's fine." She lied. She knew that it wasn't fine, but she didn't want to talk about that, "Sit down, Frodo, I feel like I've barely gotten to talk to you. How do you like Lothlorien?"

"I think if I had come here under other circumstances I would have liked it," He said, sinking gingerly onto her bedside and studying his hands, "But now it seems like a dark shadow clouds everything around me. Not even the light of Galadriel can drive it away."

Mel reached out and took his hand, squeezing reassuringly.

"You aren't alone, Frodo. Even in the darkness, even when you feel the worst, you aren't alone, ever. Do you understand?" He nodded, "Never, ever forget that, no matter what."

"Something bad is about to happen, isn't it?" He looked up, met her gaze straight on, "Something worse than Gandalf."

She sighed, "Sometimes I wish I could tell you everything. I wish I could prepare you."

"No," He looked away again, as if afraid that even her eyes might tell him things they shouldn't, "I don't want to know. I want to handle it the way it should be handled, in my own way, with my own mind."

He paused and took a breath before he looked up again.

"I don't blame you for what happened to Gandalf," he said, "I came here to tell you that. And what Boromir said… What he did… It was wrong of him to say those things."

Mel felt a lump forming in her throat and she forced it down.

"His mind is not where it should be, Frodo. Don't blame him for that."

Frodo smiled, "You'll be with us again soon and everything will be back to the way it was."

Mel tried to match his smile, but it was a poor imitation. She squeezed his hand again.

"Nothing will be the same, Frodo. Nothing ever stays the same. But that doesn't mean it's bad."

"But it will be better," Frodo replied confidently, "He was better when you were with us."

Mel didn't know what to say. Her heart was torn. How could she let Frodo go? He was counting on her as much as anyone now. She was a part of the Fellowship. If she stayed behind, if she let them go on without her, how would that affect the Ringbearer?

He's strong, she thought. He'll be perfectly fine without you. They don't need you bogging them down. What good are you to them now anyway? You have no reason for being there anymore.

"Mel?" She looked up. Frodo's eyes were concerned, "Mel? Are you alright?"

She smiled and buried her heart deep inside that empty shell, closing it up tight so she couldn't feel it anymore. That emptiness was the only thing protecting her, the only thing keeping her from breaking.

"I'm okay," She reassured him, "Just tired still, I guess."

Frodo slid off the bed, "I won't keep you then. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"She's going to be just fine, little one," Eregwen said, standing in the doorway with a stack of bottles and towels, "Nothing a few days rest won't mend."

"She'll be well in time to go with us, won't she?"

Eregwen met Mel's eyes, "I'll see to it she gets well," She smiled down at Frodo, "Now scoot along."

Frodo bowed and hurried away. Eregwen started pacing about the room, putting things in their proper place.

"Thank you, for not saying anything," Mel said, "About me not going with them. I was going to, but it didn't…"

"It's not my place," Eregwen said, folding one of the towels and stashing it away in one the night table drawers, "And besides, I'm not entirely convinced that you've made up your mind on the matter. Until then, your thoughts will remain your own."

Mel sighed and settled back on her pillows.

"I meant what I said, Eregwen. My wandering days are over."

Eregwen smiled vaguely at the bottles she was polishing.

"As you wish."

Chapter Text

The next week was the most peaceful of Mel's stay in Lothlorien. She never moved from her bed, even when she was told that it was perfectly safe after a few days. Her time was spent with Maltalda and Eregwen, and daily visits from a few other members of the fellowship. The hobbits were particularly fascinated by the stories Maltalda told, with Mel acting as interpreter, stories of war and peace, friendship and love, tales of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. The hobbits would sit on her bed, cross-legged and wide-eyed, hanging on every word. Eregwen sat and listened also, even though she told Mel later that she knew most of the stories herself, and several she had actually lived through.

"Then why do you stay?" Mel asked.

Eregwen smiled, "To see the looks on their faces. It makes me happy."

"There must be better things you could be doing."

"Mel, you are well," the healer replied, "There is nothing more for me to do for you, physically. The only thing left is for you to leave this bed."

Mel didn't answer. She didn't want to leave the flet. When she was up here there was nothing, only the trees and the hobbits and the stories and she didn't have to feel anything. Out there… well, she didn't know what she would find out there. But in here, she knew she was safe.

Eregwen didn't bring it up again.

And then one day, the hobbits didn't come. They had come every day and that day, they didn't show up. Mel waited anxiously for them to arrive. She fidgeted in her bed until she couldn't stand it anymore. Finally, she got up, for the first time in over a week, and started pacing.

"Where could they be?"

"They are preparing." Maltalda replied.

That made Mel pause, "Preparing for what?"

"I do not know, Calenhiril. Things are being packed away."

They were packing. That meant they must be…

"They are leaving," The musical voice spoke softly from the door, "Tomorrow."

Mel turned to stare at Galadriel, "So soon?"

The elf-queen laughed, a soft, tinkling sound that Mel wouldn't have thought was real if she hadn't heard it herself.

"It has been nearly a month, Lindel! Did you think they could stay forever?"

Mel slumped onto the bed. Galadriel sat gracefully beside her.

"Eregwen says you are fully healed," She said, "She says that she hasn't seen you rest so well since you came to us," Mel could feel the elf's eyes staring at her, but she didn't look up, "Too well, in fact."

"I didn't know I could rest too well." Mel said, smiling bitterly down at her hands in her lap.

Galadriel did not return the smile. Mel could still feel her eyes burning into her.

"You have lost something these last few days, Lindel, and it concerns me."

Mel scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Seriously? Now, you're concerned?"

Mel got up and started pacing again, her hands moving around her almost involuntarily.

"I do too much, then I don't do enough, I don't know how to please you people! What do you want, huh? I'm all worked up now, is that what you want, will that make you happy?"

"Actually, yes."

Mel pulled up short and stared at Galadriel, who was smiling at her.

"It is not what you do which concerns me, Lindel. It is the intensity of your feelings, how you throw yourself into your actions, even your thoughts. You have always been active, Lindel, ever since you first came to us. Even when you were bed-ridden your mind was elsewhere, always on the ones you care about."

Galadriel's eyes pierced Mel, her smile gone.

"That has not been the case this past week."

Mel lowered her eyes to escape that powerful stare, lowered her heart deeper into that shell of emptiness and shut it up tightly.

"Eregwen has told me of your decision," Galadriel said, "And I believe it is the right thing to do so that events might follow their proper course. But just because you won't be with your friends does not mean that you can't care about them. I think it would be impossible for you not to care for them or they for you."

"This is easier," Mel said, purposefully walking away, leaning out the window, letting a cool breeze brush her face.

She heard the rustle of cloth as Galadriel rose and came to stand beside her.

"Sometimes what seems the easiest way is not always the best way."

The elf-queen placed a gentle hand on Mel's shoulder. Somewhere deep inside, the empty shell around her heart cracked.

"Your friends love you, Lindel. You would do them a great disservice by refusing that love."

Mel took a deep breath to steady herself. She could feel tears burning her eyes, but she managed to blink them away.

"I don't…"

Her voice broke. She swallowed and tried again.

"I don't know if I can face them."

The slender fingers gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

"How can you not say good-bye?"

Mel continued to take deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. Galadriel was right. How could she let them leave and not say good-bye? They didn't even know she wasn't going. How could she just not show up, without any explanation, and live with herself? She couldn't and she knew it.

"I'll be there," She heard herself say, like she was listening to another person speak, "Just tell me when and where."

Galadriel squeezed her shoulder.

"Eregwen will show you the way."

Mel nodded and the hand slipped away. She turned, but Galadriel was gone. She looked around the empty room, savoring these last few moments of blessed peace.

And then she allowed that empty shell to crumble away.

Eregwen woke Mel early the next morning.

"Come, eat." She said gently, "We have a long way to go if we are to meet with your friends."

Mel rubbed her eyes, slightly gummy from the tears that she had finally allowed herself to cry the night before. But she had to admit, she felt better for it.

Eregwen had brought more apple porridge and Mel gulped it down, and then changed into the cream cotton dress Eregwen had brought for her. When she turned around, Eregwen handed her something else, with a pleased grin.

It was Elrohir's cloak.

"Oh my god!" Mel gasped snatching up the familiar green wool and pressing it to her face, "I thought I… I thought it was… Oh my god!"

Eregwen's smile widened.

"You were wearing it when they brought you to me. It was the only thing on you that wasn't torn or ruined by filth and grime, so I kept it for you. I thought it must be very special."

Mel closed her eyes and rubbed the white fur against her cheek.

"It was a gift, from a friend in Rivendell."

"It must be a very good friend," Eregwen said, as Mel swung the cloak over her shoulders, enjoying the familiar weight and warmth, "It is practically indestructible. I have never seen anything like it."

Mel smiled and adjusted the gold-leaf clasp fondly.

"Yes, he's a very good friend."

Elrohir… Elladan… She missed her tall, laughing elven teachers. I guess I'll see them soon.

"We'd better hurry now," Eregwen said gently, "We've got quite a walk ahead of us."

Mel shoved her feet into a pair of leather shoes and then they were out the door, walking through the cool, misty forest.

"Where are we going?" Mel asked.

"To the river bank, outside the city."

"Is it far?"

"From the Great Gate it is about ten miles."

"Ten miles?" Mel exclaimed.

Eregwen didn't slow her steady pace, but she tossed Mel a smile.

"Mel, you have traveled much farther than that on your journey from Imladris."

"I just didn't think it would be so far from Caras Galadon."

Eregwen looked puzzled, "Did the author of your lore not tell you?"

Mel rolled her eyes, "I didn't memorize every detail, Eregwen."

The healer smiled and said nothing, turning again to the road.

It was only a few minutes before they passed through the Great Gate, tall and green and alight with lamps that gave it an ethereal glow in the morning mist. They crossed a long, white bridge that stretched into a white, paved road out of the city, but they didn't stay on the road for long. Eregwen turned and plunged into the woods, Mel rushing to follow after her.

"Are you testing me or something, Eregwen?" Mel asked, half-teasing.

Eregwen threw a grin back over her shoulder, "Perhaps."

The half-hidden path was mostly downhill, through mallorn trees and patches of elanor flowers, and was not a particularly challenging trek, despite the healer's teasing. Still by the time they walked out of the last wall of mallorn trees, the pale winter sun had almost reached noon, managing to burn off the last wisps of fog and allow Mel a clear view of the river beyond.

The Anduin glimmered almost playfully in the sunlight, moving fast along its green, elanor-covered banks. As they walked along the shore, Mel glanced into the water rushing past and was surprised by how very clean it was. No pollution, no trash, no scum floating on the surface. Just clear, pure water flowing down a course determined for it who knew how many millennia ago, undisturbed. When they reached the dock, Mel gave into temptation and crouched down to swirl her fingers along the surface. It was bone-chillingly cold and she quickly pulled her hand out.

"I am glad you have come, Lindel."

Mel jerked to her feet and stood with her hands behind her back, feeling guilty for some reason, as if she had touched something she shouldn't. Lady Galadriel stood beside a man only an inch or two taller than her, with golden hair and a strong, open face. Lord Celeborn's lips turned up in a small smile and he inclined his head toward her politely. Mel suddenly wished she knew how to curtsy. It felt like the appropriate moment for such a gesture and she was woefully unprepared. She did manage a sort of awkward half-bow thing though, and she figured that would have to be good enough.

"I said I would be here, Lady Galadriel," She replied, "I always try to keep my word."

Galadriel smiled, and then her eyes flicked over and past Mel's shoulder.

"Not a moment too soon it seems."

Mel turned around and saw a group coming out of the trees onto the lawn. They were led by an elf Mel didn't know, but the rest of the Fellowship were easy to recognize. The two younger hobbits broke from the group and ran down the hill, barreling into her and nearly knocking her into the river.

"Mel! Mel! I knew you would be here!"

"Where have you been?"

"They wouldn't tell us where you were!"

"I knew you were coming, didn't I tell you, Merry?"

Mel managed to regain her balance and managed to laugh past the lump in her throat. When the hobbits finally stopped talking long enough to really look at her, a glance was exchanged between them and Mel thought that maybe they would guess what was happening before she actually had to tell them.

Then Pippin blurted out, "Are you going to change into real clothes soon?"

"Come on, Pip, of course she is!" Merry said, rolling his eyes and knocking Pippin in the arm, "You don't honestly expect her to go traipsing through Mordor in a dress, do you?"

By this time the others had caught up with them, and Mel locked eyes with Legolas. She watched a full range of emotions flit across his face, first joy, then puzzlement, then revelation, then a brief glimpse of sorrow, before he finally he set his jaw and turned away from her, entirely shut off.

She should have known that he would be the first to guess.

Boromir stood in the back of the group and wouldn't meet her eyes. Mel only allowed herself a brief glance in his direction and then she pointedly ignored him.

Lady Galadriel stepped forward, easily gathering the attention of everyone on the lawn.

"We have come to bid you our last farewell," she said, "And to speed you with blessings from our land."

"Though you have been our guests you have not yet eaten with us," Celeborn said, his voice soft and lilting, but still somehow commanding, "We bid you, therefore, to a parting feast, here by the flowing waters that will bear you far from Lorien."

"The time will come, Lindel," She heard Galadriel whisper in her mind, "First, food and drink. Then the giving of gifts. Then the final farewell."

Mel nodded and tried to settle her nerves.

They sat in a great circle on the grass, while food and wine were passed around, and while the whole thing had the look of a picnic, it felt solemn, everyone deep in their own thoughts. Mel sat a little bit back from the circle, trying to take everything in, to memorize her friends' faces the way they were now. When she saw them next, they would not be the same. She felt like she already missed them.

Boromir still would not meet her eyes.

Once everyone had eaten, Galadriel rose and the company followed her lead.

"Now we have drunk the cup of parting and the shadows fall between us. But before you go, I have brought with me gifts, which the Lord and Lady of the Galadrim now offer you in memory of Lothlorien."

Mel watched from a distance as the gifts were given, a bow and two daggers, a tiny box of earth for Sam "…from my orchard," Galadriel said with a fond smile, "And what blessing Galadriel has still to bestow upon it. If you keep it and see your home again, then perhaps it may reward you."

Sam clutched the box to his chest as if the fate of the world was inside and bowed low.

Three precious golden hairs were placed in Gimli's gloved hand next.

"It is said that the skill of Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues," Galadriel said, her eyes dancing, "Yet that is not true of you, Gimli son of Gloin. For none has ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. May this be a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days."

Gimli clutched the three hairs in much the same way Sam had clutched his little box.

Boromir was next. Mel held her breath.

But not much was said. The Lady placed a golden belt in his hand and closed his fingers around it, her eyes boring into his. For a long moment neither moved. Mel didn't know exactly what was happening, but Boromir's face was hard stone. Finally, Galadriel released his hand and said only these few words aloud:

"What seems the easiest way is not always the best way, Boromir, son of Gondor."

Mel started. Those were the exact words the Lady had spoken to her! What else had she said to him? Mel studied his face, searching for any clue, but his face remained dark and impassive as he bowed to the Lady of the Golden Wood. Mel caught herself memorizing his features, the line of his jaw, thin lips pressed in a frown, his nose which she could see now had a small bump and was a tiny bit crooked. She wondered how he had broken it. And she realized she would never get the chance to ask him. She bit her lip and looked away.

"And for you, Frodo Baggins," Galadriel's voice broke through her thoughts, "I give you the light of Earendil, our most beloved star. May it be a light for you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

Frodo bowed low. And when he rose, Galadriel bent and kissed his curly head. Then she stepped back and found Mel's eyes.

"It is time, Lindel."

Everyone paused. Mel took one last good look at all of them, one final impression to keep with her.

Pippin got impatient, "Time for what?"

Galadriel smiled sadly, "Time to say farewell."

"Farewell?" Merry asked, "What does she mean, Mel?"

Boromir's head jerked up and he finally met her eyes, staring at her, searching her face. She took that moment, the one moment when his eyes weren't clouded by rage, to embed the image in her brain. She never wanted to forget. He wasn't always angry and cruel. He was her friend once.

"Your friend has chosen to remain behind," Galadriel announced, "For the better of the Company and the success of your quest."

The shadow fell across Boromir's face again and he turned his eyes away from her, his jaw set. Mel was forced to face the others, staring at her in silence and various states of emotion. She scanned their faces, and Frodo's abandoned, empty expression tugged at her heart first. She dropped to her knees in front of him, studying her hands in her lap.

"Oh Frodo, I'm so sorry," she whispered, "I know it doesn't mean much, but I really am."

The Ringbearer surprised her when he slipped his arms around her neck and hugged her gently.

"Does this mean it's over?" He whispered, "You don't believe in me anymore?"

"No!" Mel exclaimed, jerking back and grabbing the hobbit by the arms, forcing him to look at her, "No, Frodo, this has nothing to do with you and… and everything to do with me. My faith in you is unshakable, do you understand me?"

He nodded and Mel relaxed a little bit, rubbing his arms rather than gripping them.

"You're still not alone, Frodo. Don't forget that. No matter what."

He nodded again, but he didn't seem too convinced. He sniffed and rubbed his nose, then turned away before she could see any of his tears escape.

Sam was right behind him and he threw his arms around her neck, hugging her fiercely.

"Don't go, Miss Mel," He sobbed, "Oh please, please don't go."

"Sam," she whispered, holding the hobbit just as tightly as he held her, "You have to take care of Frodo now. You got that?" She pulled him away so she could look him right in the eye, "Even if he says he doesn't want your help, you don't let him go, Samwise Gamgee. Promise me."

He nodded, sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"'Course Miss Mel, I promise."

She smiled and then let him go, scurrying away after Frodo.

Merry was glaring at her, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"Why are you running away?" He hissed through gritted teeth.

She sighed, "Because I have to, Merry."

"No you don't."

She sat back on her heels and smiled.

"Oh Merry," she whispered fondly, "If only I were as brave and stubborn as you. But I'm not. I'm going to get in the way. I should have seen that before, but I was blind and stupid. I thought I could change the world. But I'm just… I'm not enough. I'm not like you. You're going to change the world, Merry."

His stiff stance softened and his glared down at his toes.

"But you won't be there to see it." He muttered.

"I've already seen it!" Mel laughed, "Many, many times. You're going to do great things."

Merry's jaw twitched for a moment, his eyes still stubbornly on the ground. Then he sighed and relaxed, putting his arms around her reluctantly.

"I wish you didn't have to go." He whispered.

"Me too." She whispered back, "Take care of Pippin. He's going to do great things too."

She felt him nod into her shoulder before he stepped back, rubbing his eyes.

Pippin was next. He looked slightly puzzled, glancing back and forth between her and the rest of the hobbits before he inched in close and whispered conspiratorially under his breath.

"You aren't really leaving us, right? It's going to be like Rivendell, isn't it? You'll stay behind and then catch up with us later?"

Mel smiled and chucked him fondly under the chin.

"Sorry, Pip. Not this time."

He jerked back, a look of genuine shock on his face.

"But… but why?" He asked, baffled, "I mean, you've come all this way already…"

"It's…" Her voice cracked and she had to regain her composure, "It's just time, Pippin."

Mel took him by the shoulders and met his eyes.

"Listen, I want you to remember something for me, okay?"

He nodded, still looking slightly dazed. She shook him a little to bring him back to her.

"You are going to be fine," she said, emphasizing the words carefully, "You got that? Just remember I said that, no matter what happens."

He nodded again, realization slowly starting to fill up his face. Then suddenly he threw himself around her neck.

"I can't, I can't! Don't leave, Mel, please just don't leave…"

She just held him for a moment, rubbing his back and making soothing noises as tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. He was so small.

I should never have come here.

When he had calmed from sobs to sniffles she kissed his cheek and let him go, smiling and brushing the tears from his cheeks, cupping his face in her hands.

"You have to take care of Merry," She murmured with a watery smile, "He's going to need you, okay?"

Pippin nodded and she ruffled his hair one last time before she forced herself to stand up and take a step back.

She nearly ran into Gimli and she hopped away, skipping a little to keep her balance.

"So you've decided to take off then, have you?" the dwarf said, studying the blade of his ax with apparent disinterest.

"I guess so," Mel said warily. The last thing she wanted was a fight.

He nodded, then slid his ax back into his belt and crossed his arms.

"Well, good riddance anyway," he grunted, "Couldn't have some woman riding our coat tails all the way into Mordor, now could we?"

Mel eased back half a step, watching her toes dig in the grass absently.

"I guess not."

"Even if she did prove useful every now and then."

Mel jerked in surprise and stared at Gimli. He wasn't looking at her, gazing away to the right somewhere in the middle distance.

"And happened to show exceptionally good taste in architecture."

Mel opened her mouth, then closed it again, well and truly speechless.

"And proved exceptionally foolish with regards to her own well-being."

His eyes flicked back to her and then away again, crossing his arms for firmly.

"One might even say… dwarven in her stubbornness."

Mel felt a knot loosen somewhere in her chest and she huffed out a little sigh of relief that was nearly a laugh.

"And we just can't have that," she said, her voice breathy with relief, "There's only room for one dwarf on this quest, I think."

Gimli nodded decisively.

"Aye, there's no help for it," he said, "I'm afraid you'll just have to remain behind, lass."

Mel nodded, her smile widening.

"It would seem so."

Impulsively, Mel reached out and clasped Gimli's shoulder. The dwarf jumped and actually met her eyes.

"It's been an honor, Gimli, son of Gloin," Mel said, "I mean that."

Gimli gave her a sort of regretful half-smile and covered her hand firmly with his own.

"Aye, lass, an honor indeed."

She nodded and then stepped away, turning to meet the eyes of the Ranger standing behind him. Aragorn was the easiest to face, his vague expression of approval no more or less than she had expected.

"I'm sure your just itching to say, 'I told you so'." She quipped with a smile.

Surprisingly, he didn't return her smile, "You know how I feel, Mel…"

"I know."

"…but I think I have misled you."

Mel furrowed her brow, puzzled.

"When you first came to us," Aragorn said, "I did not know your intentions. I knew only that you were an enigma, a liability, possibly even a threat, albeit unintentionally. I had no way of knowing what you meant to accomplish by joining our company. But we have traveled a long way together now and, while your original intentions are still a mystery, I believe I see your heart a little more clearly. When I told you that I would trust your judgment, those were not empty words. And, while you have chosen to turn from this path with us, I do not believe that complacency or an existence of obscurity is meant to be your fate." He took a step closer, "You are destined for great things, Mel, though your path is hidden from you."

Mel met his eyes steadily, "Maybe you're wrong, Aragorn."

He smiled, "Perhaps," He took a step back, "But perhaps not." He bowed to her, "May light guide the path of your heart, Mel. I hope someday we will meet again."

Mel inclined her head to him. Then he turned and walked toward the boats. Mel closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. There were only two left…

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Mel sighed and turned toward Legolas' gentle voice.

"I didn't want to worry you."

"You could have said…"

He paused and glanced down, arms crossed over his chest and brow furrowed as he collected his thoughts. Then he took a step forward and took both her hands in his, laying them together softly.

"You don't have to do this," He said, staring at her hands in his, "I'll take care of you, mellon-nîn, I can protect you."

"And who knows what kind of trouble that would cause," Mel said, attempting to grin at him and failing. She dropped her eyes, "I shouldn't have come here, Legolas. I should have listened to Lord Elrond, but I came anyway and I just… I shouldn't have come."

"What about Boromir?"

The question startled her into meeting his eyes. They were boring into her, searching for her reaction and she looked away quickly, taking her hands from him and rubbing them together anxiously.

"What about him?" she asked, trying to sound casual, but knowing that she'd failed, even before Legolas chuckled under his breath.

"I have been such a fool all this time," he said, shaking his head and smiling to himself, "It should have been plain to me. He is in danger, Mel. That's why you came to us."

"This is exactly why I can't be here!" she hissed, pressing in closer and hoping their voices wouldn't carry, "You already know more than you should."

"Oh Mel, don't fret," he said, chucking her fondly under the chin, "It is obvious that he is in danger. I do not need the fear in your eyes to tell me that."

He reached out and took her hands again, rubbing absent circles on her skin with his thumbs.

"He is distracted. His moods are troubled. His judgment is clouded. Only a fool or a disturbed man would say he did not care about you."

Mel tried to smile, to act like his words didn't mean anything to her, but inside she was aching and Legolas saw right through her. He pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair.

"Don't do this, Mel," He whispered, "We can fix this. Just let me help you."

She shook her head, tears slipping out of the corners of her eyes as she gripped his tunic and held on tight.

"It's too late. He's too far gone, I can't bring him back. He doesn't…" she choked on her first choice of words and substituted new ones, "…he doesn't want to be saved."

She hoped the elf's quick mind attributed the blunder to her crying. She didn't want to say what she had been thinking aloud.

He doesn't love me.

Those were words that, until now, she hadn't even dared to think. But now cold reality settled in the pit of her stomach. She loved him. She knew it, deep down in her soul, where she had been trying not to stray too often. And the hard truth of it made her feel hollow and very lost.

What was she supposed to do now?

She buried her face in Legolas' shoulder and let a few more tears slip out. What good was it to come to this place, only to fall in love with the one man that she knew wouldn't live to love her back? What crazy, twisted reality had Yavanna dropped her in?

Yavanna didn't do this to you, she reminded herself harshly. You aren't even supposed to be here. Now stop crying, everyone's staring.

But when she looked up, she realized that wasn't true. Everyone else had drifted off to help load the boats. It was just Legolas and her. Boromir was no where in sight. That was probably best. Maybe she could just slip away…

She sniffed and backed out of the circle of Legolas' arms, rubbing her nose.

"I guess I should let you get to work. You've got a lot to do."

Legolas opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but he paused. He closed his eyes, like he was deep in thought, then smiled and shook his head.

"It seems I am the fool." He whispered.

His eyes opened and the smile on his lips didn't quite reach that high. He leaned down, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then whispered something softly, in elvish that she couldn't quite catch.

"What did you say?" she asked curiously.

He smiled again, and this time it touched his eyes.

"If we meet again, mellon-nîn, ask me and I shall tell you."

She rolled her eyes and grinned, letting a little bit of mischief slip into her voice.

"You know I know where to find you, right? I'm gonna know everything you're doing from now on."

He laughed.

"Surely not everything!"

Mel shrugged, "Well, maybe not exact locations, but I'll have a pretty good idea. I could track you down if I wanted to."

They stood smiling at each other for a moment. Mel didn't want him to leave. If he left that would be it. No more good-byes, no more explanations. The leaving would be all that was left. But she knew he had to go. So she took a step back.

"Good-bye, Legolas." She said. She tried to sound definitive, but it came out sounding small and lonely.

He nodded and then gently touched her cheek.

"Good bye, Mel."

Then he turned and walked away, heading toward the docks.

Mel watched him go without moving a muscle. She had stopped crying. The choice was made, the damage done. For good or ill her path was chosen.

Two paths diverged in a distant wood …

And it led her away from those she cared about most in this world. The thought made her sick to her stomach. She thought she should feel noble, somehow justified that she was doing the right thing, but instead she felt a knot of regret eating at her insides. Something wasn't right. This was what everyone had wanted from the beginning, first Elrond, then Gandalf, Aragorn, Galadriel. Even Yavanna had said she wasn't following the path she should be. So why did it feel so wrong to turn around?

It is no one's choice but yours …

If it weren't for the dreams there wouldn't have ever been a choice. She would have gone on without a second thought. Wouldn't she? She liked to think she would have, but the truth was she would never know now. And if she allowed her mind to sink into that pit of "could-haves" and "what-ifs" she might never be able to claw her way out again.

She started to edge her way back from the water, hoping she could possibly slip away before anyone noticed, knowing that she couldn't handle more tearful goodbyes, but unable to take her eyes off the fellowship even for a moment, backing away slowly, carefully…

She didn't hear him step out of the trees behind her, never even knew he was there until a hand gently brushed her shoulder. She recognized the gloves from the corner of her eye and her heart jumped to her throat as she whirled and dropped into a defensive crouch, her hand grasping instinctively for the sword that wasn't at her side.

Boromir stood very still, staring at her, hand hovering in the air where her shoulder had been. Mel looked closely for any sign of tension or anger. But there wasn't any, so she relaxed, slowly straightening from her crouch, but still keeping a safe distance, just in case. He watched all of this silently, his hand only dropping to his side when she was still again. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Mel fought to keep her emotions in check when she saw the shock melt into something she thought could be regret in his eyes. She forced herself to remember that this wasn't the man she had known in Rivendell. This man was different, greedy, prideful, cruel…

Finally, he spoke, and his soft whisper nearly broke her resolve.

"Are you really so afraid?"

She was angry at herself when she felt her careful reserve slipping and an answer snapped out of her mouth before she could think it through.

"Well last time we talked, you made it pretty clear that we weren't exactly friends."

The familiar anger flared up in his eyes and Mel tensed herself for the sharp retort. But his second question caught her off guard again.

"Why do you run now?" he spat viciously, "Was the journey too taxing? Do you fear the orcs? Or perhaps the half-breed creatures of Saruman who track us even now?"

Mel shuddered, but said nothing, setting her jaw firmly. Boromir took a step closer and Mel resisted the urge to step back.

"Or have you finally realized what everyone's been trying to tell you from the beginning?"

He leaned in, a sort of gleeful anticipation glinting in his eyes.

"You don't belong here," he hissed, "You aren't welcome, Melody. No one wants you here…"

His last words shoved their way into her chest and crushed her pounding heart.

No one wants you here...

Translation: I don't want you here...

Mel felt her mask of emotionless stone slipping from her expression and she fought to control it. She had been such an idiot. Everything he'd said before in Rivendell had been politeness, just empty words he'd said to keep her feelings from being hurt. He hadn't meant any of it.

Her mask stayed on, but barely, and she managed to pull herself up, to stand a little taller.

"Then it's a good thing I'm out of your hair," She quipped, and her voice didn't even waver, "I would say take care, Boromir, but you don't need me to tell you that. You don't need anyone."

And with her head still held high Mel brushed past him and stalked toward the woods.

She heard someone call Boromir's name, but she didn't stop to see who it was. She couldn't stop. Any second her mask was going to fall off and shatter, and she was going to break down. She had to make it into the trees first, she had to be as far away as possible. She took long, steady strides across the seemingly endless open grass, willing her shoulders to stay straight, her back upright, her face smooth. Finally, she felt the cool shade of the trees envelope her, take her in, soothe her burning eyes. She managed a few more purposeful strides. Then she collapsed next to a giant mallorn and sobbed.

The rhythmic slap of the paddle on the water and the cool breeze blowing off of the river worked to calm Boromir's rattled nerves. He could feel the tension that had been his constant companion for the last month slip away as the trees of Lothlorien glided by, leaving the meddling elf-queen and the foolish girl-child behind. He winced as he thought of that last confrontation with Melody. She had been hiding herself. She had never been very good at hiding her emotions, but that time she'd almost fooled him. He had almost thought that his words hadn't affected her in the slightest. But at the very end she had faltered, only for the briefest of moments, but enough to tell him that she was hiding. Whether she was hiding anger or hurt or some other obscure emotion was beyond his powers of observation.

It doesn't matter, the voice in his mind whispered. You are rid of her. She is none of your concern. Gondor is your concern now. Your people are your concern.

The voice had been his constant companion also. It was getting louder. And starting to make much more sense.

You must do whatever it takes to make the people of Gondor safe. The man who would be your king does not know them as you do. He doesn't love them as you do. None of the others understand. Especially not the girl.

That gave Boromir pause. Didn't she know his people? She seemed to know everything…

From books! The voice shrieked. How can she KNOW them? She's never walked the streets of Minas Tirith, never seen its shining towers, or the banners flying proudly from the battlements! She knows NOTHING!

Boromir quickly acquiesced to make the shrieking stop. But she had seemed so sincere in Rivendell. He had been so certain…

Before the voice could start again, a movement from the west bank distracted him. His eyes darted and he saw a figure slip through the trees and pause. It was Melody, half-hidden behind the trunk of a large silver tree. Her eyes darted over the boats and for a moment, Boromir had the foolish thought that it had all been just another ruse, that she meant somehow to follow them, meet them downriver and continue on their journey. But she made no move to pursue as the boats slipped swiftly past her and the half-formed thought vanished.

She caught his eye just as his boat slid past her and he saw her hands tense against the tree bark. Her expression was terrifying in it's intensity, almost screaming some unheard message to him across the water, but the boats were moving too swiftly and he was past her before he had a chance to decipher it. He turned in the boat, trying to catch one final glance, to glean some sort of meaning…

…but she was already gone, leaving nothing behind but a glimpse of her cream dress as she slipped back into the forest.

The screeching voice returned.

Forget her! She's nothing! She means nothing!

You're wrong, he thought.

But after that he gave no resistance. He left the last of his sanity behind with the mallorn trees.

Chapter Text

Mel didn't return to her flet that day. She ran through the forest, running and running, letting the underbrush tear at her skin and her hair and her clothes, trying to run from the awful feeling she had in the pit of her stomach, in the back of her mind, the feeling that she had just made a horrible, terrible mistake.

She ran until she couldn't run anymore, and then she collapsed at the base of a mallorn tree, gasping for breath and letting the sounds of the trees fill her mind, trying to drown out the nagging, clawing doubt. She lost track of time and when she realized that the light was getting dimmer, she didn't care. None of it felt real. For the first time since she had come to Middle-Earth, she gave serious consideration to the possibility that this was all just a very elaborate dream and soon she would wake up in her own bed, in her own world, as if she had never left.

Terror gripped her at the thought, squeezing her chest and making it hard to breathe. What if everything she had gone through, all the pain and grief and fear, what if it all meant nothing? What if it didn't even exist? What if all the people that she now cared so much about were nothing but fictional characters and all of this was in her head? That couldn't be. It just couldn't be true. It had all felt so real before. But the possibility made her head swim. And if none of this was real, then no one was going to miss her. She curled up under her cloak, the cloak Elrohir had given her, and even though she had thought she had cried all her tears, she ended up crying herself to sleep.

Sunlight fluttering over her closed eyelids woke her in due time, but she didn't move. She felt like she couldn't move. If she moved the world would either shimmer and fade out of existence or she would have to face the cold reality of the choice she had made. Neither option appealed to her and so she stayed curled up against the base of the mallorn tree, squeezing her eyes shut tighter against the daylight and wishing for sleep to come to her again. She drifted in and out of dozing for an indeterminable amount of time, letting the forest fill her thoughts and force out anything else.

"Calenhiril?" a timid voice spoke up out of the gentle murmur of trees, "Calenhiril, the elves search the woods. They are calling for you."

She curled up tighter and huddled closer to the mallorn tree.

"I don't care."

The trees returned to gentle murmurs.

It felt like moments, but when the calls of the elves finally reached her and she opened her eyes, the light was fading into dusk.

"Mel! Mel, where are you?"

The voice was familiar, but she'd never heard that tone before, high and frightened.

"Mel! Mel, please come back!"

She shifted against the tree, but she was stiff and a moan escaped her lips.

"Mel? Mel is that you?"

The voices were getting closer and now she could hear a whisper of running feet. She had a moment of panic, a moment of resistance, and she tried to scramble up, to hide herself, but she was too sore to move that fast. An elf burst through the trees, the same unfamiliar elf that had been leading the fellowship.

"Den ichiren!" he called as he knelt beside her, "Lady Lindel, are you alright?"

"Thank the stars!" Eregwen cried as she flew out of the forest on light, quick feet, "Mel, are you hurt? What happened?"

She fell to her knees and put her hands on Mel, fluttering over arms and head and face frantically.

"Were you lost? I'm so sorry I lost you! I should have been paying more attention, gin iallon, goheno nin!"

As Eregwen carried on in a mix of elvish and Common speech, several other elves emerged from the trees, Lord Celeborn among them. Mel felt a stab of embarrassment. All this trouble because she had selfishly run away like a child. She reached out and took Eregwen's fluttering hands in hers, trying to calm her.

"I'm fine, really," she rasped, swallowing to relieve her dry throat, "You didn't need to do all this."

"Oh, Mel! When you didn't come back I was so anxious for you. I went to the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn started a search party and we've been searching and searching for you! I was sick with worry!" She pulled back suddenly and gave her a sharp look, "You are NEVER to do that again, do you hear? What if an animal had gotten you? Or you had wandered out of the forest? There are orcs out there!"

"Lady Healer, perhaps it would be better to continue this conversation in the city?" The soft commanding voice of Celeborn permeated the entire forest and cut through Eregwen's hysteria, "I'm sure the Lady Galadriel will be very pleased to know that Lindel has been found."

Eregwen took a deep breath and nodded, "Ben iest dhîn, brannon."

"Lady Lindel, can you stand?" asked the strange elf at her side.

Mel assessed her aches and pains, then shrugged.

"I think so. I'm a little stiff."

He smiled, but Eregwen's familiar commanding voice interrupted.

"Haldir, help the poor girl to her feet at least! She's been out in the forest all night and all day!"

The name startled Mel. She opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn't find any words. She had met so many fictional characters in the last couple of months, she hadn't thought one more would affect her. But she still felt that sense of awe and wonder as the Marchwarden of the Golden Wood stood and offered her his hand.

"May I, my lady?"

She took it and the warmth made everything real again. She was really here, all of this was really happening, and she was going to have to face it. The things she did affected everything. Haldir pulled her to her feet and she looked at the other elves with new eyes. The question was across her lips before she had time to think about it.

"Are your brothers here?"

Haldir's eyes widened with surprise, but one of the other elves laughed, a deep gentle rumble from the chest. He leaned over and said something in elvish to another elf, who laughed in turn, this laugh lighter and easier, like it got plenty of use. She looked at Haldir expectantly and was surprised to see that he was blushing. He snapped something in elvish and the laughter stopped, but everyone was smiling now.

"Lady Lindel, may I present my brothers, Rumil and Orophin. Please forgive Orophin's rude behavior, he has clearly forgotten all of our mother's guidance with regards to addressing a lady."

"What did he say?" she asked, "I was learning some Sindarin in Rivendell, but to be honest, I wasn't very good,. The pronunciation isn't what I expected at all."

"Ah, perhaps that is for the best!" Haldir said, visibly brightening and attempting to hurry her away without appearing as if he were hurrying her away, "My brothers have not had need to learn much of the Common Tongue, and truth be told I wouldn't want your ears to be filled with their nonsense."

There was more laughter and Mel glanced back at the brothers following along in their wake.

"But they can understand us?"

"Oh certainly, enough to understand the essence of our conversation at any rate. Not enough to properly communicate of course, but still…"

He was now talking about them as if they weren't there and there was a sharp comment from one of the brothers. It sounded like Orophin. Mel didn't need a lesson in elvish to know that he wasn't happy about the way Haldir was treating them.

She turned, making Haldir pull up short, and gave the brothers a friendly little bow.

"It's very nice to meet you both."

The two brothers smiled and returned her bow. The smaller of the two, Rumil took a step forward and took her free hand in his.

"We are very pleased to meet you." He said in halting Common, before dropping a kiss to the back of her hand.

Mel grinned so widely her cheeks hurt and looked up at Haldir, who was blushing furiously again.

"Sounds just fine to me." She said, primly.

Orophin laughed again, louder this time. He slung an arm over her shoulders, tugging her away from Haldir's grip (much to Haldir's dismay) and said something in elvish that she didn't understand, winking at Rumil, who said something that sounded like agreement, before they both looked back at their brother expectantly. Haldir was scowling and said something scathing in elvish, but that only seemed to make his brothers laugh more.

"Okay, is someone gonna clue me in?" she asked, glancing around at the rest of the search party, who were all watching what was happening with expressions of fond amusement, "What are they saying?"

"They find you charming and amusing," Lord Celeborn said, his eyes dancing, "And they are asking permission to keep you."

Mel looked up and Orophin was grinning down at her.

His eyes were gray.

Suddenly, she felt sick and her knees felt like jelly. She was slipping to the ground. Orophin's smile melted into concern and he caught her as she fell. She forced herself to tear her eyes from him and take deep breaths, her chest tight and her heart pounding frantically against her ribs.

"Mel? Mel what happened?"

Eregwen's voice had taken on that frantic edge again, and then, out of nowhere, a string of harsh elvish words tumbled out of her mouth. Mel was lifted into the air, feeling dizzy and light-headed, and she vaguely heard Eregwen switch back to Common again.

"Oh, Mel, I am such a fool! You've been out here alone, without food or water! Hurry, Orophin, we need to get her back to the city!"

Just the mention of food and water made Mel's mouth dry out like a bag of cotton balls and her stomach clench angrily. Her head was pounding and she couldn't concentrate on what was happening. Gray eyes swam in front of her, even when her own eyes were closed she couldn't escape them. She tried to think of something, anything else because when she saw those eyes they were the eyes of a dead man. He was already dead and she couldn't stop it. She wanted to cry, but no tears would come. There was just pain.

"Mel? Mel, please drink this."

Eregwen's trembling voice brought her back to the present. She opened her eyes. The healer held a small cup of water out to her. Mel took it with a shaking hand and sipped. The cool water instantly soothed her head and dry mouth. She finished the cup and became aware that she was back in the healing flet she had called home for the past month. And the elven search party was peering down around her. She sat up and felt a little dizzy, but forced herself to stay upright.

"Thank you for finding me. I'll be fine now." She whispered, her voice hoarse.

The group seemed to visibly relax. Lord Celeborn gave a slight bow.

"Then I will inform the Lady Galadriel of our success. Her mind will be at ease now that you are safely within the city walls, Lady Lindel."

"Thank you, Lord Celeborn." Mel answered as Eregwen handed her another cup of water.

The elf-lord bowed and swept away, several other members of the hunting party following after him.

The three brothers remained at her bedside.

"Once again I beg your forgiveness for my brother, Lady Lindel," Haldir murmured, "His childish ways are unacceptable."

"He didn't do anything wrong," Mel said, "It was me. I was just tired."

She steeled herself and looked up into Orophin's gray eyes again. It was easier than she had expected. She could see now that his eyes had more green to them than gray. The light must have been playing tricks on her. She felt very silly.

"I'm sorry you had to catch me." she said, trying to be funny and not doing so well.

Orophin smiled and waved a hand dismissively. Then he spoke for the first time in Common.

"You weigh nothing."

Those three words were said so confidently that Mel found it hard to believe that he couldn't speak more. Maybe he knew more of the Common tongue than his brother gave him credit for. Or maybe he was just that sure of himself.

Rumil laughed again. Mel was sure that she had guessed right about him. Rumil laughed a lot. Haldir stood and his brothers followed his example.

"We will leave you now in Lady Eregwen's capable hands."

"Novaer." She said tentatively, trying to remember Elrohir's exact pronunciation of the word.

The three brothers exchanged a look, and Haldir wore an expression that Mel knew all too well. She had worn it herself, when she knew her sisters were about to do something stupid. It was a warning. One that Orophin and Rumil expertly and obviously ignored. Orophin grinned and then spouted off something in Elvish. Rumil laughed and said something that sounded like agreement. Mel looked at Haldir and waited patiently.

The Marchwarden sighed and rolled his eyes skyward, clearly asking some higher power why he had been so cursed.

"They say that you were right. Your pronunciation is atrocious."

Mel's mouth dropped open and she smacked the arm of the nearest elf, who happened to be Rumil.

"Hey, it's not my fault! My lessons were rudely interrupted by all this questing stuff!"

Rumil rubbed his 'injured' arm and said something else. Haldir did not even resist translating.

"He says that lessons can be arranged if… wait, why are you volunteering me? This wasn't my idea!"

Rumil grinned and began chattering and gesturing enthusiastically. Before Haldir could respond or Orophin jump in, Eregwen's clear voice pierced the air, cleanly cutting them off.

"Gentlemen, another day perhaps?" She said, raising an eyebrow, "I believe I have a patient that needs seeing to. Don't you three have borders that you're supposed to be patrolling or some such nonsense?"

The three hunters promptly obeyed that familiar commanding tone, bowing and heading for the door. Orophin however, managed to turn and throw a wink at Mel over his shoulder before Haldir grabbed his arm and jerked him forcefully out the door, muttering incomprehensibly in a scalding tone. Eregwen sighed like a weary mother.

"Those three will never grow up not if they live for a thousand years."

"You know them." Mel said, surprised. It hadn't occurred to her that Eregwen might know the Marchwarden personally.

"I have treated them many times for wounds beyond counting. I have come to know them well, as I do all those in my care," Eregwen smoothed back Mel's hair, "As I feel I have come to know you. I am sorry for your hurt, Mel."

Before Mel could respond, the elf straightened and tugged at her tunic self-consciously.

"Rest now," she said, "I'll bring you some broth."

Mel settled back and tried not to think about anything. She did it surprisingly well. Her eyes drooped and she huddled down further under the covers. She wasn't tired, but sleep had become a welcome escape from a world she didn't want to face anymore. So she shut her eyes and let her mind float in and out of waking.

Mel jerked up suddenly from a half-doze, blinking in the dim light. Eregwen had come and gone, bringing hot broth and leaving with an empty bowl, the act of eating nothing but a distant, hazy memory. It was now fully dark outside, but Mel was awake, no trace of the comforting drowsiness that had kept her from thinking for the past twenty-four hours. Something had disturbed her. Something had spoken, she could feel it. It came again, a whisper in her mind.

"Lindel…"

Galadriel was calling her. Mel swung out of bed and padded softly out of the flet, scaling the rope ladder and walking absently between the mallorn trees, enjoying the sensation of the cool grass on her feet. She knew that she would end up where Galadriel wanted her eventually. She didn't have to know the way.

It was only a few minutes and Mel found her feet stepping lightly down a set of white stone steps, into a sunken alcove nearly hidden from sight. There was a hush around the place that even the trees seemed loath to break, and a familiar basin sat waiting before a small, tinkling fountain.

Galadriel stood gazing into the water that flowed continuously through the fountain, her long, golden hair moving about her in wisps that seemed to almost have minds of their own. Mel waited at the foot of the stairs, trying not to fidget. Galadriel knew she was there. She was simply choosing her words.

"Come closer, Lindel," The elf-queen said, without turning, "I want to show you something."

Mel did as she was told, taking slow, careful steps forward. Galadriel dipped a large silver pitcher into the fountain.

"You know about the mirror," It wasn't a question. Galadriel knew that Mel knew about the mirror, "Would you like to see what its waters hold for you?"

Mel swallowed.

"It only speaks half-truths," she said, her voice sounding much less confident than she had hoped, "The future isn't set in stone."

Galadriel turned and smiled at her, before she poured the water smoothly into the waiting basin.

"Then it does no harm to look."

Mel hesitated, but only for a moment. She wanted to look, more than anything. Even knowing that what she would see would probably make no sense, she wanted to see it, to try to understand. She was lost and she needed a push in the right direction, some indication of what she was supposed to do now.

She stepped up to the pedestal. Galadriel took a step back as Mel braced herself on the stone and leaned over the smooth, clear water.

For a moment, nothing happened. She saw her reflection on a background of stars. Then a ripple echoed over the surface of the water and it shimmered. But the picture it showed was vague and out of focus. First it looked like Lothlorien, then a rushing river, Rivendell, then Amon Hen, a bright wood, then a dark forest. The vision couldn't seem to settle on one place.

"What's happening?" Mel asked, her eyes never leaving the ever-changing water.

"That is what I see when I look into your future," Galadriel answered, "You are at a vast crossroads, Lindel. And you have yet to make your choice."

"But I did choose," Mel murmured, watching the picture flicker and tilt crazily, "I'm still here, aren't I? And they're gone."

"Your mind has made the choice, but your heart has not. They war with one another. That is why your future is so uncertain."

"So how do I choose?"

Mel finally lifted her eyes from the mirror. Galadriel smiled sadly.

"You must leave this place," She said, "The direction you go will seal your fate."

"But where will I go?"

"You already know the answer to that question."

Galadriel passed her hand over the basin and Mel looked down. Rivendell was glowing below her. Then the water shivered again, but this time it settled and remained steady. She could still see Rivendell in the distance, but now the sun had set and stars were beginning to glow against the violet sky. The scene shifted and two people trudged into the main courtyard of Imladris, one of them dressed in some really weird clothes. Mel's breath caught in her throat. That was her! That was her red sweater, her jeans, her favorite sneakers! She was watching a vision of her first night in Middle-Earth.

That night was a blur in her memory, but in the mirror it was all crystal clear. She watched herself stumble into the courtyard. Lindir met them at the gate, and he and Boromir spoke for a while, gesturing back and forth. Until Mel collapsed, passed out from shock and exhaustion.

And then… this part she didn't remember at all. Boromir caught her before she hit the ground, easily sweeping her up in his arms. She watched as she settled into his grip, and she felt a stab of pain in her chest. He had been different then. She had felt so… comfortable, safe with him. She had trusted him, explicitly, putting her life in his hands without even realizing it. He could have left her out in the woods. He could have done worse than that. But instead he had been kind, even when she was suspicious and scared and talking crazy. He had been… Boromir. And for one intense, impulsive moment, Mel wanted him back. More than anything in the world, she wanted Boromir, this Boromir, back.

The vision shifted. It was subtle, merely a darkening of the background at first glance, Rivendell fading slowly away, but Mel felt something more change, something deeper. They weren't in the past anymore. Boromir still held her in his arms, but he looked worn and tired now, more so than he had before. And Mel… Mel was ripped to pieces. Her clothes were dirty and torn, her hair was matted, and there was blood on what she could see of her face. She clung to Boromir, burrowing into his chest, and his grip tightened, his face grim.

It lasted for barely a moment before the picture started to shimmer out of existence, but Mel felt a knot of anxiety clench her stomach. Where were they? What had happened to them? She leaned forward trying to strain for some clue in the rapidly fading vision, and a strand of her hair drooped down and touched the surface of the water.

A hard shock jerked her back from the basin and Mel lost her balance, tumbling over into the grass. She lay still for a moment trying to catch her breath. Her body ached and her head was pounding. Slowly she reached up and touched the strand of hair and the end crumbled to charred dust in her hand. But the aches and pains started to fade almost as quickly as they had appeared and she managed to sit up, staring at Galadriel.

"What was that?" she asked, rubbing her neck, which was still sore.

But Galadriel's eyes were glazed over, staring into the now still and empty basin of water.

"Something new," the elf-queen murmured, "Something I did not see before."

Suddenly her eyes sharpened and she met Mel's gaze.

"I fear I have made a terrible mistake, Lindel."

Mel got up and brushed the grass off her dress, hoping there weren't going to be any stains.

"What do you mean a mistake? What did you see?"

Galadriel smiled, "I saw hope."

Mel crossed her arms and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Hope? Really? Were we even looking at the same vision?"

Galadriel kept smiling, but she turned to pace in front of the fountain, her hands twisting together as she spoke, her eyes flicking back and forth somewhere in the distance.

"Of course, Lindel, of course we were. Perhaps see is not the appropriate word. Perhaps… felt? Yes, I felt hope. How could I have been so blind? What's done is done, we cannot change the feelings there. Can we change the outcomes? The events? Is there still time?"

Mel was lost, watching as Galadriel paced and muttered, almost as if she'd forgotten she was there. What was she even talking about?

"You, Lindel!" Galadriel interrupted as if Mel had spoken aloud, "What am I to do with you? You have made this all very complicated," But the elf-queen was still smiling and there was a hint of humor in her eyes, "However, I believe we can set it right. Of course much still depends on your choices."

"What are you saying?" Mel asked.

"Do you want to save him?"

Mel's heart stopped as Galadriel's words, words she hadn't dared to hope, to even think, kicked her in the chest. She couldn't make her mouth work. She couldn't move. She just stared at the elf for a long moment that felt a little bit like an eternity. And then, somewhere deep inside where she had not dared to go before, she felt a spark.

"I only kept you from the others because I thought there was no hope," Galadriel said, turning away to stare into the fountain, "I thought he was lost forever. If I had known, if I had seen…" She closed her eyes, "Forgive my blindness, Lindel. Let me make it right again."

"I can save him?"

Mel's jaw had finally loosened and the spark had built into a fire in her chest, burning steadily brighter, but she had to ask. She had to be sure.

Galadriel turned back to her, and then hesitantly reached out and took her hand, her blue eyes piercing.

"Only you can save him," she said, "But we have to move quickly. We might already be too late."

And just like that, the urgency snapped Mel completely out of her daze. Too late… She might already be…

"What do I need to do?"

Galadriel smiled and squeezed her hand.

"You'll need a way to catch up to the boats."

"You called, my lady?"

Mel whirled. Haldir had come up so quietly that she hadn't even heard him until he was right behind her.

"Yes, Haldir," Galadriel said, "It seems Lindel is in need of a horse. She's leaving us as soon as possible. Saddle the swiftest steed we possess."

Haldir bowed, "Will the lady require anything else?"

Galadriel waved a hand dismissively, "Only lembas for a few weeks and a skin for water. If all goes well she will follow the river and not want for much. But speed is of the essence. Have Eregwen gather Lindel's things with all haste. Go now."

"Yes, my lady," Haldir said, bowing and sprinting away.

"Come, Lindel."

Galadriel brushed past her and Mel followed without a second thought.

"A horse?" she asked, catching up with the elf-queen's long, purposeful strides.

"You have no experience on the water and it will do us no good if you drown on your way. I chose something you would be familiar with."

"But the hobbits hate water!" Mel exclaimed.

"The hobbits were not alone," She replied, a grin turning up the corners of her lips.

They hurried through the glowing city in the trees, then up a long winding flight of stairs to the top of a massive mallorn tree.

"I have a few things for you," Galadriel said, as they entered the main room of an enormous flet, "Wait here."

Galadriel swept away, but she was back so quickly Mel barely got to glance around. SHe held Mel's sword in her hands.

"I kept this for you. I never dreamed you might have need of it again so soon."

Mel reached out and took the familiar grip, everything Elladan had taught her flooding back like it was flowing up through her arm out of the sword itself. She unsheathed the blade and twirled it a few times. It was like she hadn't missed a day of her training. She replaced the sheath and buckled it around her waist. Before she could even whisper out a thank you, Galadriel handed her a pair of leather gloves.

"Your gift from the Galadrim," She said, as Mel took them and slipped them on, "They will never slip from your fingers and your grip will always be sure."

Mel flexed her fingers in the soft leather and gave Galadriel a curious look. They felt like normal gloves to her. Galadriel smiled and inclined her head a bit.

"Your future is unclear to me, Lindel," she said, "But I sense that you will have need of these soon."

Mel looked back down at the gloves and flexed her fingers one more time. They still felt pretty normal, but she trusted the elf-queen's judgment, for the most part.

"Thank you." She said.

Galadriel smiled, and then her eyes flicked up into the middle distance.

"Your horse is ready for you."

At that moment, Haldir stepped into the flet and bowed.

"The horse is prepared, Lady Galadriel," he said, "Eregwen stands ready with Lady Lindel's things."

Galadriel nodded, then to Mel's surprise, she put her slender arms around Mel and hugged her.

"Let love guide you, Lindel. Even if it is hard to see." She let her go and brushed a strand of hair fondly from her eyes, "Now, hurry. Time is your greatest enemy now."

Before Mel could even really comprehend what was happening she was flying down the stairs and following Haldir through the forest. His stride was no longer than Galadriel's, but his steps came more quickly and lightly, and Mel had to jog to keep up.

They entered an open pavilion under the trees and Mel was suddenly surrounded by the familiar smells of hay and leather and horse hair. She felt a tiny pang of nostalgia and homesickness, but she quickly shoved it aside. A light golden palomino was already saddled and waiting, Eregwen at her head. The horse snorted and shook her mane, pawing the ground with one dainty hoof.

"This is Laurea," Haldir said, "She is the fastest horse in Lothlorien and she knows the river well. You will be safe in her care."

Laurea nickered and bumped Haldir's chest. He rubbed the white blaze on her face lovingly.

"Don't worry about her tiring. When she's ready to stop, you'll know."

"Haldir," Mel whispered, an anxious knot forming in the pit of her stomach as she watched the mare nibble fondly at the elf's tunic, "Is… Is this is your horse?"

He nodded, stroking the delicate velvet nose gently.

"The Lady asked that you be given the best," he said, taking the reins and handing them over to Mel, "Laurea is the best."

Mel started shaking her head, taking a half step back, "No, this is crazy, I can't take your horse! What if something happens to her?"

Haldir laughed and took Mel's hands, firmly pressing the reins into her palm and closing her fingers over them.

"I assure you, Lindel, Laurea is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Besides, there is no other, not if you want to catch the boats on the river with nearly two days travel behind them."

"But…"

Haldir cut her off, "She is only on loan, Lady Lindel. As soon as you are returned to your companions I expect you to tell Laurea to come home. She will know the way. Now stop arguing, you know you haven't the time."

Mel snapped her mouth shut. He was right.

"Thank you," She said, gripping the reins tighter and holding them to her chest, "You don't even know me."

Haldir smiled, "I do not have to know you. I do the bidding of the Lady Galadriel. She would not send Laurea into danger unnecessarily." He ruffled the mare's pale forelock and stepped back, bowing, "Safe journey, Lindel."

He turned and left them without a backward glance. Mel allowed Laurea to sniff her gloved hand as she watched him stride out of sight. Finally, Eregwen cleared her throat, sounding mildly irritated. Mel turned toward the healer and saw she was holding out a bag.

"I brought you a change of clothes."

Mel snatched the bag and ducked into an empty stall to change. Eregwen kept talking.

"There's also a rope, a second change of clothes, enough lembas to last you a month at least, some bandages, and the best healing salve in my cabinets."

"Are you always so prepared?" Mel asked, only half-teasing. The clothes fit like they'd been tailor-made and the boots felt molded to her feet. She stepped out of the stall and saw Eregwen smiling slyly.

"My mother always taught me to be prepared for everything," She said, hands on her hips as she surveyed her handiwork.

Mel slung the small pack over her shoulder and grinned.

"So you always have clothes on hand that are going to fit everyone you come across perfectly?"

The elf shrugged, "It is easy to be prepared when you know for what you are preparing. I always knew you would leave us, Mel. You aren't destined to remain alone and unheeded. Your place is with the others."

Impulsively, Mel grabbed Eregwen and hugged her tight.

"Thank you," she whispered, "For everything. I don't know if I'll ever be able to pay you back."

Eregwen returned her embrace.

"The greatest gift you can give me is your happiness," she said, her voice slightly muffled, "Physical well-being is nothing without joy. Be happy, mellon-nîn, and I shall be well repaid."

Eregwen pulled away first, taking a step back and straightening her tunic, sniffing primly as she dabbed at her eyes, then shaking a hand toward the open air outside the pavilion.

"Now go. Dawn is coming and you mustn't waste any daylight."

Mel knew she was right. She took the reins and mounted Laurea who stood perfectly still and well-behaved. Then, as she looked out the door of the stable toward the misty morning, she remembered the dream of Yavanna. In the dream she had used a poem, something Mel was vaguely familiar with. How had it ended again?

"I shall be telling this with a sigh," she whispered, the words slipping off her lips from some half-forgotten memory of a life long gone, "Somewhere ages and ages hence; two roads diverged in a wood and I; I took the one less traveled by; and that has made all the difference."

She smiled and leaned forward to whisper in Laurea's ear, "Let's make all the difference, girl. I can't speak much elvish, but I think I know two words you'll understand. Noro lim, Laurea!"

The mare gave a piercing whinny and shot forward into the dawn's first light.

Chapter Text

The first two days passed quickly, though not quickly enough for Mel. She took Haldir at his word and let Laurea find her own footing through the trees crowding the west bank of the Anduin, resisting the temptation to urge her faster the few times she slowed and trying not to fidget when the mare stopped for a drink from the river at noon. Instead, she used those opportunities to dismount, chew on a wafer of lembas, and pace restlessly to work out the cramps in her muscles. It had been a very long time since she'd done any serious riding and the walk did her more good than she probably realized.

Laurea was fast and sure and incredibly smart. Every morning she woke Mel with a nudge as the sun rose in the east, burning off the river's mist enough to see the forest path. They would ride all day, with only occasional short stops, and well into the night, stopping when Mel could feel her eyelids start to droop. Every day Mel woke up sore and tired and impatient, but Laurea just continued on, steady and enduring. The horse was a reassuring comfort.

The third day, Mel started to notice a change in the landscape. The trees were fewer, their whispers not as loud. And the east side of the river started to look more stark and barren. At noon when Laurea stopped for her drink, Mel could see large, charred patches all along the eastern shore, as if a forest fire had passed through not too long ago. The places not touched by fire were brown and brittle. Mel shivered and looked further down the western bank. The trees were thinning rapidly and it made her uneasy. If the trees were gone, where would she hide if need be? Even worse, the hush in her mind was eerie. She hadn't realized how much she had become accustomed to the sounds of the Lothlorien mallorn trees. The few trees close by were silent, as if they were afraid to make a sound. It was unnerving. It felt like… like Moria.

She hurried back to where Laurea was grazing and stayed close by until the horse was ready to leave.

As they rushed along, the land grew more flat, but the water teamed with river reeds, whistling and clacking together in the wind of the open plains. The reeds were tall, up to Laurea's chest, and as they passed the last tree that Mel could see for miles, she was grateful that at least they would be safe from sight of the eastern bank at nightfall. The flat plains bordering the western shore were green with grass as far as the eye could see, broken only by pockets of sharp rock that jutted out of the earth. It looked vaguely familiar, but it took Mel most of a day to finally realize that they must be passing through some part of Rohan. She took in the countryside with interested eyes as fast as she could. They were making excellent time on the plains. Many times Laurea would snort playfully and burst into a full gallop across the open ground.

They traveled for only a few days across the open country before the land began to change again. On both sides rock began to push its way out of the earth and crumble into gravel on the path by the river. Sheer cliffs rose before them and the reeds that Mel had found such comfort in were replaced by brambles and thorn bushes. Laurea still seemed sure of her way, but it was slower going now as she picked her way through the underbrush and circled mountains of rock.

Mel worked hard to push away the doubts that nagged her. There was no way to be sure if she was catching up with the Fellowship. They could be miles away or just on the other side of the damn weeds! The uncertainty was driving her crazy! How would she know when to stop? What if she passed them up? What if she got to the Falls of Rauros and she couldn't find them? What if she got to Amon Hen and they were already gone?

She tried her best to force those thoughts away. She focused instead on the task in front of her. She had to stop Boromir. If she could just catch him, just talk to him for a minute… and to hell with Aragorn and his damn promises! She was going to tell Boromir everything, everything that was going to happen to him, to his father, to his brother, to his city, and then she was going to tell him to run like hell! Run for Minas Tirith or Osgiliath or Ithilien whichever was closer, to just go! He didn't have to love her. He didn't even have to like her. But there was no way she was going to just sit by and watch him kill himself. It just wasn't gonna happen.

The certainty of those thoughts helped to quiet the nagging doubts for a little while. But they always came back. They usually plagued her at night, when she had time to stop and think and nothing to distract her save the twinkling of stars. What if she was nowhere near the Fellowship? She had lost track of the days. Not that it mattered because she couldn't remember how many days they were supposed to stay on the river anyway. She was sure they were falling behind. They had to be, there was no way they could be catching up.

Mel sighed and sat up, staring down the river, trying to get a glimpse of something, anything. But it was too dark, of course. She envied Legolas his elven eyesight. She gave up and readjusted her bedroll. She had a long ride ahead tomorrow. Nothing looked like it was getting easier.

She had nearly gotten settled again, when she heard someone shout. She bolted upright, her eyes straining in the dark. Of course she still couldn't see, but she knew she had heard it. She had distinctly heard a hobbit cry out. She was on her feet, peering down the bank, across the water, anywhere, looking for any sign of…

There. On the eastern bank she saw movement. She ducked under the cover of a tangle of vines, but her eyes stayed riveted to the activity across the river. It was further downstream, almost too far to be seen, but she definitely wasn't imagining it. And then echoes of orc cries reached her, the cackling screeches bouncing off the cliffs and sending a cold shiver running down Mel's spine. A wind blew from the south and black clouds rose up against the deep blue of the midnight sky.

Something rose out of the clouds. A dark, lithe form sailed with the wind up the river, blotting out the stars in its path and sending a bone-chilling dread through every fiber of Mel's being. Her heart stopped beating, she stopped breathing, she even stopped thinking. Her mind was just one silent shriek that she couldn't seem to voice. The brush and the brambles started to tremble all around her, rippling down the river bank. Laurea gave a terrified scream.

But then the beast was cut short. Mel saw it jerk in the sky, as if it had been struck, and a choking screech filled the night, turning her blood to ice in her veins. Then it fell from the sky to the rocks in the east, far beyond the river. It was as if someone had wiped a haze from the night. The sky became deep blue again, the stars began to twinkle and the cold hand that had clenched Mel's heart let go. She took a gasp of air as her mind started working again. There was only one thing in all of Middle-Earth that could be that terrifying this side of Mordor. She had just seen her first Nazgul. And as that realization slowly crept into her thoughts, another, more encouraging thought emerged. Something had stopped it. And she could think of only one bowman that would have that kind of aim in the dark and not be paralyzed with terror. Legolas was close. And that meant the rest of the Fellowship was close. She was catching up! Hah! Take that negativity!

Of course, she couldn't be sure how close they really were. The cliffs' echoes made judging distance by sound impossible and her eyes weren't good enough to see where that arrow had come from, even if they hadn't been riveted to the terror in the sky. But none of that mattered. She knew she was closer. She could feel it like a warm glow in her chest. She was going to catch them. It took everything she had not to get up and pace with excitement and impatience. She forced herself to lie down again and close her eyes. She had to get a little sleep. She would be no use to anyone as a living zombie. Laurea would wake her when she was ready to go on. But Mel felt like dawn would never come.

And then, surprisingly, it did. But it didn't feel like dawn. Mel woke up to a world clothed in white, warm and moist, with no sun to be seen in the dreary morning. Laurea snorted and pawed a hoof on the ground to more thoroughly rouse her. Mel stood and peered through the fog trying to see the eastern shore. But she couldn't even see the river, only hear it rushing along, not bothered in the least by the white haze. But it dampened Mel's spirits considerably. How would they ever find their way in this?

Laurea nudged her again and Mel took up the reins.

"Alright, girl," she muttered, swinging up into the saddle, "Let's see what you're really made of."

Without hesitation the mare trotted into the mist, completely sure of her path. She never stumbled, but the way was slow and the ground was rockier as they went further south. Mel could see the tips of rock cliffs peeking through as the day wore on, but the fog never fully burned away. They traveled as far as they could, Laurea pushing herself through a nightfall that came far too quickly. But finally they were forced to stop, and Mel tumbled to the ground and fell asleep almost immediately.

The next day she woke up wet. It had rained in the night. She shook out her cloak and rain drops scattered everywhere. When she put the cloak back on, it was dry. She smiled. Elrohir's gift would never cease to amaze her. She definitely owed him, big time.

The fog was thinner today. Mel could actually see more than a foot in front of her face and she realized that they were now well into the cliffs, the river rushing along below them. But the thinning fog also meant that soon anything on the other side of the water might see her. The thought of the orcs sent a chill up her spine, and also brought on another terrifying thought. If the orcs on the eastern shore could see her, what about the Uruk-Hai on this side of the river? Where were they? The thought startled her so badly that she jumped and her eyes skittered over the western shores. They were out there, they were coming, even if she couldn't see them yet. What was she doing standing here like an idiot? She jumped in the saddle and urged Laurea onward. They had to get out of the open before the fog faded off.

Laurea was sure-footed as ever, and her steady, unworried pace gave Mel some much needed reassurance. She slowly realized that they weren't as exposed as she had thought. The brush was still thick on the path and it hid their passing fairly well from the eastern shore. And besides, no band of orcs was going to take much interest in a lone traveler, it was too much trouble. And the Uruk-Hai were only thinking about one thing. Get the Halflings. They weren't going to dilly-dally with someone like her as long as she stayed out of their way, something she fully intended to do.

Just as she was managing to cheer herself up, it started to rain again. And not just rain, pour down buckets! She was soaked to the skin in no time, despite Elrohir's helpful cloak, and Laurea plodded along against the water, her head bowed in almost as much misery as Mel. They might as well have been swimming in the river. The rain made the rocks slippery, so they had to slow down. All of Mel's fears came swirling up out of the dark corners of her thoughts. By now there were so many she couldn't count them all. She bent her head against the rain and tried to think of something else.

Just as suddenly as it had begun, the rain stopped and the sun broke through the clouds, warming Mel's face and drying the rain on her skin. It was noon. Laurea made her customary stop and Mel took the opportunity to change out of her rain-soaked clothes and lay them out to dry. Her cloak only needed a good shake and a few minutes in the sun and it was as good as new. Her clothes however were not so lucky. She sat in the sun and tried not to fidget as she waited.

God, she wanted to be there already! She didn't remember it taking this long! Of course, there were turning out to be a lot of things that she didn't quite remember. Dates seemed to be the only thing she was able to recall with perfect accuracy. The Council of Elrond, 25th of October; leave Rivendell, 25th of December; loss of Gandalf, 15th of January; reach Caras Galadon, 17th of January; leave Lothlorien, 16th of February; death of… breaking of the Fellowship, 26th of February. So it was ten days they should be on the river. But how many days had it been? It had been two when she left, but her days had all run together already. She couldn't remember how many days it had been since she left Lothlorien. Was it five? No, it was more than that. Six, seven, eight? She just couldn't remember! What if she was already too late?

She shook her head. No that was impossible. She had heard the Fellowship two days ago, she was sure of that. She couldn't be that far behind, even with the fog to slow her down. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Laurea nudged her arm and Mel gathered her still damp clothes, shoving them into her bag. She hoped they wouldn't mildew and she made a mental note to take them out again as soon as they stopped for the night.

The sun made the going easier and Laurea barely slowed at all, though the path was rocky and choked with weeds in many places. It made Mel feel better to see the cliffs sliding rapidly by. A few hours later, they cleared a nasty patch of brambles and Mel caught a clear view of what waited downstream. Two great pillars of rock rose out of the river on either side. The shapes were impossible to make out clearly at this distance, but the sight still made Mel's heart leap. It was the Argonath. She was absolutely certain. And that meant Amon Hen couldn't be far beyond. She fought the urge to force Laurea faster. The mare had proven too many times that she knew better than Mel did.

She let the horse continue at her own pace, but her eyes remained fixed on the pillars of stone, watching them grow closer and more distinct. She could see their outstretched palms, warning away all intruders from the land of Gondor. Gradually she could make out the folds of robes and crowns upon their heads. And finally, just as the sun began to set, she could see their faces, stern and noble, one carved in youth, the other older and wiser. The eyes seemed to glare into the distance and Mel shivered. They made her nervous, like they were following her and reading every secret that she kept, judging her actions, seeing if she was worthy to pass into the land they had kept watch over for so many years. She felt small and insignificant. What made her think she could just ride by without being turned away? She had done no great deeds, she had no more courage than anyone else, she had nothing to offer these grand lords of the West. What could she do? What could she possibly hope to accomplish?

But something wiggled in her mind, a silly little thought, the only thing she really had. She had love. Unrequited? Sure. Stupid? Probably, but she did have it. And it was all she had to give. As the sun slipped below the western cliffs, she felt the eyes of the Argonath slip from her as well, to keep watch on dangers further north. It was all she had and all that she had was apparently enough. Laurea passed by the feet of the western king, unhindered.

And that was as far as they got that night. The cliffs dropped away into dense forest on the southern side of the Argonath and Laurea stopped just within the trees. Mel slid off and removed Laurea's saddle and bridle, rubbing her down with a cloth that Haldir had, of course, remembered to pack with her things. Then she took her damp clothes from that morning and went to wash them in the clear lake that spread out from the river. She could hear the distant roar of the falls, the sounds of the night, but above all else she heard the steady murmur of trees again, and that calmed and comforted her. The silence of her journey had been more disturbing than she was willing to admit, even to herself. She was accustomed to the constant presence of the trees and their cadence in her thoughts was a soothing background noise. Without it she felt horribly alone.

But it was back, her personal static. She sighed and glanced across the narrow lake. Unlike the western bank, the cliffs continued on eastward, cold, gray, and dead. Mel shivered at the thought of all that barren ground. Then her eyes scanned the western forest. Where were the Uruk-Hai now? They were coming, she knew it. She could even imagine that she felt it, like a steady thrumming in her limbs. But how close they were she couldn't say. She still had no idea exactly where she needed to be. She saw a tall hill rising against the starlight and she was sure that was Amon Hen. But it was huge! She sighed. The only thing to do was to follow the edge of the lake until she came to the falls of Rauros. The company had camped near the falls, she was sure. After that, she would just have to hope she could find Boromir before anything happened. There was nothing else to do.

She hung her clothes in the branches of one of the tall trees (with permission, of course) and lay back to watch the clear sky slip away above her. She started scanning the night, searching for the one star she knew, the one star she was sure she could find. She would never forget what it looked like.

"Boromir, where is Earendil?"

She heard the sound of his tunic rubbing against the tree bark and the shuffle of his boots.

"There."

He was looking into the sky, pointing in a vaguely upwards direction. She rolled her eyes, let her head flop back into the grass.

"Oh god, thanks, that was so incredibly helpful…"

He sighed and then he was beside her, sprawled on his back, shoulders touching. She could feel the warmth of his arm and the smell of grass and pine needles filled her nose. He took her hand and extended it, guiding her gaze above them and just slightly to the left.

"Right there," He murmured, "The star of Eärendil the Mariner, born of the light of the Silmaril which he risked all to carry beyond the Circles of the World."

Mel smiled. She could see it now. And now that she had seen it, she knew that she would not lose it.

Mel closed her eyes. She remembered the smell of the garden, the cool breeze on her face, the warmth of Boromir's cheek not quite touching her own, his strong hand guiding her eyes, his voice in her ear. Peace before the storm. She opened her eyes and there was Earendil. She was drawn to it, as if it were the only star in the sky. She smiled. And then she let her eyes drift closed and she fell asleep.

Chapter Text

She was in the woods, but she couldn't remember why. It was afternoon, the sun slanted through the trees warming her face even as a breeze passed through the branches and cooled her cheeks. She looked down. She was dirty, covered in dead leaves and twigs, and she couldn't remember how she'd gotten that way. She saw pieces of statue and ruins of stone buildings and bridges, all of which looked vaguely familiar, but she was sure she had never been here before. The trees surrounding her were silent. She slowly turned a full circle, trying to think through the haze in her mind. She should be doing something right now. She was supposed to be doing something.

Then one lone tree whispered, "Calenhiril …"

She whirled, trying to find the source.

"Calenhiril …"

It was so calm, but something was wrong. Where were the other voices?

"They are coming."

All hell broke loose in her head. The trees all started talking at once, an explosion of voices in her head.

"They just passed the west boundary!"

"They move so quickly!"

"Protect her! Protect her!"

"Keep her here! Don't let her go!"

"The man! The Son of Gondor! She's here for the man!"

"The little ones! They want the little ones!"

"The Dark Ring! Hide the Dark Ring!"

Everything was suddenly perfectly clear. Mel knew where she was. She started to run.

"No! Calenhiril come back!"

"Not that way! The dark ones go that way!"

"Let her go! She has to save the man!"

"Stop her! For Yavanna, stop her!"

The man … Save the man… Boromir… She ran faster, dodging tree limbs that reached out for her, clinging to her, grabbing at her clothes.

"NO!" she screamed and tore away. The trees weren't fast enough. They couldn't grow fast enough.

She heard metal clash on metal, the grunts of orcs, the cries of hobbits. She followed the noise, ignoring the voices in her head screaming for her to stop, trying to catch her, to protect her. She wasn't the one that needed protecting. She cleared the trees and pulled up short. The Uruk-Hai poured over the hill. Merry and Pippin fought for their lives. And Boromir stood in front of them, making the orc fighters look like practice dummies. It was all so easy for him. Three went down before Mel even blinked. But six more took their place. She needed to get down there. She reached for her sword.

Something wooden wrapped around her wrist. She gasped and tried to jerk away, but the branch held fast. Tendrils caught her other arm. She twisted and pulled, but she couldn't get out. They had her legs and her middle now. They were dragging her away, back into the forest.

"Stop it, let me go!" She screamed, struggling frantically, "Please, let me go! Save him! Save HIM!"

But the voices just repeated over and over, "Save Calenhiril, save the Lady of the Trees, save the Daughter of Yavanna, save her, save her, save her …"

"Not me! No, not me!"

She pulled and struggled, but it was no use. Lurtz was on the hill, his bow was drawn, he snarled down at Boromir, helpless to stop him.

"NOT ME!"

Mel gasped and shot upright, reaching for her sword before she realized she was still on the lake shore. The sun was just starting to peek over the cliff tops to the east. She took a few gasping breaths and released her white-knuckled hold on her sword hilt, closing her eyes and making herself relive the dream as a dream, to see the unreality of it. It calmed her down.

Then she heard a snort. She opened her eyes and turned to Laurea. The horse pawed the ground and watched her patiently. Mel smiled. She had been a good horse. It would be hard to say good-bye. But she knew today was the day. And she didn't want Laurea anywhere near those ugly creatures. She got up and reached out to the mare, scratching her blaze.

"It's time, girl."

She saddled her and made sure everything was snug. Then she leaned down and whispered into her pale gold ear, "Go home, Laurea."

The mare snorted and bumped Mel's chest with her nose. Then she turned and trotted into the woods, headed north. Mel only watched for a moment, making sure she was safely on her way. Then she shouldered her bag and started off along the water's edge, heading toward the rushing sound of the waterfall.

The sun cleared the cliffs and sparkled off the water of the lake. It might have been beautiful if Mel hadn't been so distracted. Today was the day. She knew it, even if she wasn't sure of the exact date. And she had no idea how long it would take her to get to the Falls of Rauros on foot. She was sure it wouldn't be a short trip. She was just hoping she would make it before…

She concentrated on the trees. She listened to the chatter and nothing sounded unusual. It was quiet and peaceful as always. But the lingering urgency of her dream hurried her on, making it hard to keep up a steady pace. She knew she wouldn't do anybody any good if she showed up exhausted, but she couldn't remember when the Uruk-Hai attacked. All of her dreams had been in the afternoon, but what if they were just dreams, brought on by her overworked imagination and apparently insatiable need for the dramatic? What if they came earlier? What if she was already too late? The thought made her pulse rush and she forced herself to slow down again. She couldn't panic and run helter-skelter like a crazed person. She swallowed her fear and cleared her mind, listening to the trees, waiting for any sign they might give of the impending assault.

Just as the sun seemed to reach the top of the sky, Mel froze. Something was wrong. The trees had gone still. She was a little more than halfway around the lake. The falls roared in her ears, magnified by the quiet in her mind. She turned slowly, watching for anything.

Then that soft, calm voice whispered in her mind's ear.

"Calenhiril…"

She started. The voice, the voice from her dream…

Mel turned and started running, running along the shoreline, along the edge of the forest.

"Calenhiril…"

She didn't stop, but the voice followed her. She wouldn't be able to get away.

"They are coming."

And just like in her dream, the forest erupted into a cacophony of voices, all screeching to be heard above the others. Cries of warnings, of position, and cries for her. Her feet pounded on the rocks as she ran, trying to ignore the sounds. But she couldn't. They were in her head and she would never be rid of them. She could feel despair closing in. She couldn't be stopped now.

And she wouldn't be. She felt something build in her, filling up her chest. She skittered to a halt and faced the forest. She was chosen by Yavanna. She didn't know why, but she was chosen for something. That gave her power.

She threw her hand into the air, the one that wore the Yavannacor, and shouted, out loud and in her mind.

"STOP!"

A green light pulsed from her hand and rippled out into the forest around her. The trees went quiet. And then the soft voice spoke again, tentative and awed.

"The voice of Yavanna…"

Mel tried not to let that intimidate her. She kept talking, in her mind now, letting her thoughts fill the emptiness that the absence of tree-voices had left behind.

"I have come for a reason," She said, "I have made a choice. And for good or ill, I will not be turned from this path."

The words sounded strange coming from her, but they felt like the right thing to say, so she kept talking.

"I have come for only one thing."

"The man…" The soft voice whispered, "You have come for the man, the Son of Gondor. You have come to save his life."

Mel dropped her hand and tried to hide her surprise.

"Yes. Will you help me?"

For a moment there was no answer. Mel heard nothing at all. Then a rustle, like a strong wind rushed through the forest and she braced herself for its impact. But no wind came. Mel watched in amazement as the limbs of the trees rattled and moved like a wave from tree to tree, traveling out and then finding its winding way back to her. The trees in front of her shook.

"Come, Calenhiril! He is this way!"

Mel didn't hesitate. She plunged into the trees, following spoken directions and nudges of limbs, running as fast as she could. She couldn't be late. She couldn't miss this.

"Left, Calenhiril, left!"

"Follow this path, Calenhiril!"

"No, no, right again, right!"

"Just keep going, Calenhiril, keep going! You're almost there!

"He is with the little one! Hurry, Calenhiril, hurry!"

The little one… Frodo, he was with Frodo. Mel kept running, adrenaline pumping through her.

"Where are the Uruk-Hai?" She asked.

She felt a deep tremor in the consciousness of the forest.

"The dark ones, the dark ones are behind you. They are faster than you are, Calenhiril. They are coming soon."

Faster than she was. She should have known that. But there was nothing she could do. She could feel her lungs starting to burn. She had to slow down or she wouldn't be prepared.

"He's here, Calenhiril! The Son of Gondor! He is in the clearing! He has the little one! The Dark Ring, he's trying to get the Dark Ring!"

Mel burst through the trees just as Boromir caught Frodo by the ankle.

"Give it to me!" he snarled.

"No!" Frodo shouted, trying to crawl away.

"Give me the Ring!"

"No!"

Boromir's crazed eyes raged as he scrambled in the dirt and the leaves, trying to hold the squirming hobbit still. Mel felt her resolve harden. This was not the man she knew. She wanted Boromir back.

"Stay out of this," She ordered the trees, as she drew her sword, "No matter what happens, stay out of it!"

And just as Frodo managed to slip the Ring on his finger, Mel kicked Boromir off of him as hard as she could. She was sure the only reason it worked was because he was blinded by his own greed and caught off guard. But he didn't stay that way. He rolled to his feet and his sword materialized in his hand. His eyes smoldered with an evil light, like a man possessed.

"Run, Frodo." Mel murmured as she readjusted her grip on her sword hilt, her eyes carefully locked on Boromir.

For a moment, nothing moved.

"Run!" she yelled.

Finally, dry leaves rustled and she heard the whisper of rushing footfalls. But her eyes never left Boromir's hard glare.

"You!" he spat, "Why have you come? Have you come to destroy us all, the little hope we have left?"

He started to circle her and she followed. She was too busy concentrating on his movements to respond to his jab. The last time she had fought him she had won, but she was sure that wouldn't happen again. This time it wasn't just a game. She was still trying to catch her breath from her run through the woods, but she couldn't let him see that. If he noticed he would immediately take advantage of it.

But he only ranted on, apparently oblivious to her condition.

"I see your mind now! You and all the others! The men and women of Gondor mean nothing to you! Nothing! We are just meaningless pawns in this damned war, this fairy tale that you've created! I mean nothing to you!"

His words cut her so deeply that she almost missed his attack. The only thing that saved her was his madness. It made him wild as he charged at her. She managed to block him and spin away, but he kept coming. Her sword didn't even faze him. She kept moving, trying to put him off balance, but he was fast, faster than she would have thought possible. And he was strong, so much stronger than her. Her arms were already starting to tire just trying to keep deflect the blade of his sword. If there was a hole in his defenses she didn't have time to find it. She was too busy trying to stay alive. And all the time that crazy look in his eyes tore at her heart. The Ring was gone now. Frodo had run away. Why was the madness continuing?

Her sword grew heavy as she fought on, ducking and turning to keep up with his insane pace. But suddenly she felt her legs being swept out from under her and she hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her. Before she could roll to her feet, she felt a point of cold metal touch her throat. She froze, trying not to breathe too hard.

"Why did you come?" He hissed. He didn't even sound winded.

Mel squeezed her eyes shut and tried to catch her breath as a sob bubbled up her throat. Two tears trickled down her cheeks and she felt them make tracks through the dirt on her skin.

"Please," she choked, "Please, I don't want you to die."

There was a pause. The tip of the sword quivered and Mel waited for it to cut through her skin, to feel the blood pour from her neck, for the pain to start.

But nothing happened.

Then the point of the sword dropped away and Mel took a shuddering breath, waiting for it to plunge into her chest. But that didn't happen either.

"What?"

Boromir's voice was suddenly soft, nearly inaudible. He sounded… horrified. Mel slowly opened her eyes. His face was slack. His sword hung limply at his side. And his eyes… his eyes were clear again.

"What did you say?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

Mel tried to make her throat work, "I… I don't…"

But two small voices interrupted her.

"Hey! Hey you!"

"Over here!"

Mel and Boromir both turned toward the sound.

"Hey! Over here!"

"This way!"

Mel strained her ears. She could hear clashing metal. The Uruk-Hai were here.

Boromir's grip on his sword tightened, "Merry, Pippin…"

Then he shot off through the woods, following the voices.

"Boromir!" Mel yelled after him, rolling to her feet and grabbing her sword, sprinting after him through the trees, "Boromir, wait!"

Either he didn't hear her or he was ignoring her, but Mel couldn't waste breath trying to call out to him again. She needed it all just to keep up. She tried to keep his blue tunic in sight, flashing glimpses between tree trunks, the sounds of clashing metal and hobbit voices echoing around her.

And then she heard him shout and suddenly they both burst out of the trees and straight into the middle of the oncoming Uruk-Hai. Mel didn't have time to think, only react, pulling her sword up and fighting her way through the mass of black bodies, stabbing and slicing through any that got in her way. There was no time to consider where she was, or which direction she was going. She could only focus on killing as many orcs as she could before they realized that she was among them and had no idea what she was doing.

Someone bumped into her and she whirled. Boromir was at her back, fighting just as desperately as she was.

"What do you think you're doing?" he shouted, "You shouldn't be here!"

But his voice wasn't cruel. It was concerned. And even as she kept fighting for her life with no breath left in her body to answer him, her heart warmed. Boromir was back.

Back to back they fought, all tension and anger forgotten in the frantic struggle. Boromir seemed to anticipate her every move, never leaving her side for a second, both of them guarding the hobbits lobbing rocks at the oncoming horde with uncanny precision. Mel spun and stabbed another orc, and as he gurgled to the ground, the leader of the Uruk-Hai stalked into view.

Mel's halting breath stopped in her throat and her heart beat so fast she thought it might explode out of her chest. The ugly creature looked down the hill, surveying the battle. His eyes locked on hers and held there. Mel's blood ran cold. Lurtz snarled.

Then he turned to the black mass of bodies that followed him, pointed right at her, and roared something in what Mel could only assumed was Black Speech.

After that she had no time for thought. Her sword swung wildly as a group of black, twisted creatures descended on her. Her arms screamed as she tried to keep fighting. She was so tired, but she couldn't stop. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the trees start to shudder around them, branches growing and reaching out. There was a screaming mess in her head as the trees sensed her panic. But they couldn't grow fast enough.

And suddenly she realized she had been separated from Boromir. She had no time to look for him. She barely had time to register his absence. How could there be so many? She swung and fought with everything in her, but that was quickly running out. She heard Boromir call her name and she looked up, trying to find him. She had to save him. She had to…

Something cracked her on the back of the head and the light of the afternoon sun seemed to explode in the sky. She felt herself falling. She heard a man yelling. Boromir… The orcs cackled and snarled.

Boromir …

As the blinding light faded and Mel tumbled into darkness, two words repeated over and over.

I failed, I failed, I failed …

End of Part One

Stay tuned for Part Two- Changing History: Consequences