A/N: So here it is, the experiment to see how well people will take someone screwing around with precious Silmarillion information. This is pretty AU with the history, although I've tried to stay with the books as much as possible with a little movie dashed in here and there. So try to enjoy and don't take stuff too seriously. Also, any help if I spell stuff wrong or put something in the wrong order, please do tell me, LOTR is kind of a new fandom for me.

-Thanks, Olivia

Disclaimer: I own Aine. That's it.

Boromir stared out at the sky sadly. It had been less than twenty-four hours since his... since their friend, Gandalf the Grey and Oh-so-truly-Wise, had been killed by the great Balrog of Mordor. They had fled quickly, with no time even for grieving-- after all, in these mountains, with that... that thing around Frodo's neck, who knew what could be behind them, waiting for them to slow down just a little so that they may strike.

He shuddered. Gandalf had been their security blanket; with his presence came the knowledge that they stood more than a fair chance. Aragorn was a king and a fine warrior, as were the elf, the dwarf, and himself, but what good were swords and shields against the staff and cursed words of Saruman?

There was a rustle in the trees, and Boromir stood up like a shot, sword in hand. He whipped his head around, muscles tense as the list of lethal creatures that frequented these parts ran through his head. He was mildly surprised to see Legolas up as well, but he was thankful for the help, just in case whatever it was turned out more than he could handle.

There was another rustle, this time a little bit closer, and the elf placed an arrow on his bowstring.

"I would not kill me if I were you, Thranduilion," a stern voice said from the dark, and the elf almost dropped his arrow.

"Who are you? How do you know my name? Show yourself!" he said, and Boromir was surprised at the genuine anger in his voice. Legolas had been relatively mild-tempered throughout the journey, and to see him so riled up was rare and did not bode well for whatever was out there.

"Do stop the theatrics, you'll give me a headache, and it's barely even midnight. Would you mind lowering your sword, Son of Gondor, I would not like to miss an arrow through my side only to risk impalement."

Boromir did as she said (for he had deduced, by her lightness and pitch of voice, that it was, in fact, a she), with Legolas complying soon after.

"There. Thank you," she said, and with that, stepped out into the flickering light.

She was an interesting looking woman, to say the least, with black hair that looked as if it had just been washed and deep, scholarly brown eyes that he could tell were made for disapproving looks. She had a rather heavy-looking pack on her back, and despite a rather obvious strength, she looked tired and haggard.

"I need to see Strider," she said clearly, and Legolas shook his head vehemently.

"We don't know who you are, why should we trust you? I will not awake Strider with such a matter as a wayward girl, not so soon after Gandalf's death," he said, directing the last sentence more to Boromir than to her, but it seemed that she heard it anyway. She turned pale as a ghost and staggered back, and Boromir's worn face became increasingly concerned.

"Gandalf... dead?" she finally sputtered out after some moments, and Legolas nodded slowly, obviously wondering about the wisdom of his statement. She let out a great and terrible cry that pierced Boromir's heart, and he bit his lip, conflicted. Should he go to help the woman, despite not knowing where she came from or who she worked for?

"By the Valar, what is going.... Aine? Aine, is that you? By the Valar, we all thought you were dead!" Boromir flipped his head back to see the ranger stride up quickly and embrace the woman before him tightly.

He was still thoroughly and utterly confused, but at least he knew now that that she was on their side.

"Is it true? Is he really dead, Estel?" she asked, and his smile dropped off his face. He attempted to avert his eyes, but she grasped his chin and firmly but gently pushed it until his eyes were level with hers.

"He fell in the mines of Moria defending us against a Balrog of Morgoth. He died a brave, heroic death, Aine, and we all mourn his loss greatly," Aragorn said softly, and she began to cry into the ranger's shoulder.

Legolas looked appropriately guilty as he stared at the heaving back of the woman before them, and Aragorn sighed.

"Come, Aine. We have much to talk about, and so little time," he said soothingly, rubbing her back softly as he nodded to the two men (well, males- Boromir wasn't really sure if the elf counted as a man) to go back to what they were doing.

Boromir watched the strange couple walk away, solid and strong-seeming even in their grief, and Legolas shook his head.

"Sleep, Boromir- I will take the rest of the watch this night," the elf said, looking any where but at him, and Boromir complied without protest, laying down and staring back up at the stars.

'Gandalf...' he thought to himself. 'Why did you leave us when we needed you the most?"