A/N: This takes place the night before the death of boromir. I am introducing two new characters, one in this chapter and another in the next,don't worry though, it will be a Legolas romance!(just not right at the very start)

Disclaimer: Don't own any characters except Iverwan, Big Sir, and Eiyare.

It was a black night.

Darkness reigned, the starts hidden behind a blanket of clouds. The wind rushed past, billowing my long dark hair around my face, feeling like the soft hand that rushed me towards an unseen nexus of events, only, I had already seen the nexus, and I would not let it take the only one I held dear, my brother Aragorn.

It had only been a few months since I had seen him last, heading towards Eriador to meet the wizard, Gandalf.

If my brother died, I Iverwan, would continue to be the nameless king's bastard daughter I always was, and with the one thing in my life that kept me strong taken away.

I had seen it.

I was always nothing more than the consequence of a night with a half0elf at a rowdy tavern for my father, and I hadn't quite minded, seeing as how my brother always saw me as more than that. We weren't raised together, mother being a strange half-elf of sorts, she traveled, and I with her. I was a quarter elf, but Aragorn had always joked that it all came out in my ears, my personality held none of the calmness that seem to have an affinity in elves.

I was brash and emotional, leaning more on intuition than sense, which is why I had only a thick wool cloak, my quiver of arrows and my bow, a dagger, and last but not least, my sword.

I was being brash.

I was going to find Aragorn and (hopefully I wasn't being egotistical) save him from the death my visions had shown me. I pulled on Big Sir's reigns to awaken the sleepy horse, "Come on Big Sir, we must be off, saving the world and all that nonsense of mine,"

Big Sir grunted softly in agreement.

"Quiet now, we don't want to wake mother," I whispered, pulling the dark hood of my cloak over my elven ears, the only indication towards my heritage.

I had not the great stature of elves, nor the inherent calmness. I was small and seemed to be forever restless, though my brother always remarked on the grace of my restlessness, another elven trait aside from the great speed I had.

I rode into the darkness, plunging headfirst into the forest with an urgency not lost on Big Sir, whose flanks began to glisten with perspiration even in the blackness of night. My intuition told me Aragorn was in danger, and come morning, I had better be there.

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A/N: this is my first LOTR fanfic, so be kind. Reviews are treasured, any kind, it doesn't matter, flames are okay too.some hints now, Big Sir is the same breed of horse as Shadowfax (I'll get into that later) and Iverwan has premonitions.sort of a side effect of being part magical.