Author's Note: Usual warnings, this is a spin off of "Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus" and if you haven't read at least part of that you'll be very confused. Also NOT CANON, for obvious reasons.


The One Ring first met the girl Lily in the town of Bree that rested between Rivendell and the Shire.

It was only after he met her that he would think of himself as something that could meet, of the concept of self, or of anything in those terms. Before then there was only the endless feeling and the desperate passing of eternity; and an ache within him to return to what he used to be.

But that was before and things had changed.

He had been in the hands of Frodo Baggins of the Shire before hers, travelling swiftly east as the nazgül had caught wind of his call and the words Baggins and Shire. For the first time in three thousand years it had seemed as if he was finally headed home; he became impatient.

He'd always had a hard time with hobbits; perhaps he simply didn't understand them. To want so little from life, to have no great ambitions beyond owning a small plot of land and raising a family; no he had never understood such simple pleasures.

Men, elves, dwarves, they dreamed with a passion they themselves did not know they possessed. The hearts of men were easily swayed by greed and hope in equal measure and the hearts of elves were not so distant and untouchable as the starlight they believed themselves to be. Hobbits were harder, it took them time to realize that they could be more than they chose, and thus he had always had trouble with them.

He had waited in the hands of Shmegal for centuries, in the hands of Bilbo Baggins for almost one hundred years, and he had come to realize as Frodo Baggins was told to flee by the gray wizard that he might be waiting even longer if he did not choose to act.

Uncorrupted but also careless; Frodo Baggins was uninformed. True, he had been told the facts, and he understood the basics but he did not truly understand. He thought of it as an adventure, like his uncle's adventure, he did not know the taste of carnage or death.

And so in the pub Frodo Baggins slipped, for a moment, and the One Ring recognized an opportunity. He did not take it then, not at that moment, nor afterwards when the man Strider confronted the party and told them they must leave Bree before the nazgül arrived. No, he waited, waited until they were fleeing into the night and then he acted.

He slipped from Frodo Baggins' pale neck, dangling from a silver chain, and onto the earth waiting for the riders in black to come.

And they did come but someone else came first.

He felt her before her fingertips grazed the gold surface, she tasted like raw power, something old and ancient that even the Valar would not recognize. He'd thought, for a moment, that perhaps their age of nonintervention had finally ended and they had come to destroy him but he did not recognize her.

When she did stumble across him the first thing she did was lift the chain, inspect it carefully, her thoughts intent upon him.

He whispered things of longing, of temptation, of greed, of a land far to the east, and of all the promised words he could think to give within himself. He whispered power in her ear and watched for something to take root.

But then, she responded in words that despite their clarity were almost unintelligible, "Oh shit, it's a horcrux."

And that was when he first met the ineffable and incorruptible Lily.


She got a room at the inn he had just left, The Prancing Pony, paying in small pebbles of pure gold. She gave no explanation of how she found this gold, how she managed to sneak it past the goblins or else the dwarves, and had only shrugged when the inn keeper had demanded to know who she was and where she had found it.

It was in this small room, overpaid for by too much money to count, that she'd first addressed him.

"So, you're a horcrux." She said, without introduction or preamble.

(It was difficult to understand her sometimes and it always managed to surprise him.

Languages had changed over the ages but had never truly been a barrier to the ring. He spoke in ideas and feelings rather than words, but sometimes it seemed as if her language was so integral to her ideas that her thoughts became foreign and lost in translation. )

No one had spoken to him directly before. There were a few moments where Shmegal had come close, but Shmegal had been speaking to his own insanity, the euphoria of addiction, rather than the ring itself.

So it was the first time he found himself answering back, "I do not know of what you speak but I know of what I can promise. With my aid I can offer you the world; all kingdoms of men…"

She cut him off casually before he could continue, "Yeah, that's great. Look, I'm kind of lost here and nobody speaks English. I mean, you think someone would speak English in this weird renaissance fair country. Or something vaguely European that I recognize, I could probably handle French or German, I mean Lenin's pretty familiar with those and you know how that goes…"

He'd wondered in that moment, wordless and shocked as he was, if rings were capable of being at a loss for words. He did not remember being given such capabilities in his forging all those years ago.

He took a moment to look at her, to see something besides her essence. She was small, a child by any race's standard, and at a glance she looked as if she belonged to the race of men or perhaps a half-bred elf. She did not have the elven ears but the red of her hair, the pale cast of her skin, and the brilliant green of her eyes were not features typically seen in men.

Her heart too did not sing the song of men. It was a shining thing, a star in every sense, and looking at it he almost felt blinded by its purity. This was not to say that it was evil or good, he could not quite decide, only that it was pure and that it had a terrible innocence.

She dressed in odd clothing, a vibrant tunic whose shade of blue he had never seen before outside of flowers, and frayed trousers that failed to cover the majority of her legs. Her shoes had no buckles but instead were held together with strings of fabric, they looked worn and unfamiliar, as if they had seen too much walking in a land too far away.

His thoughts were interrupted by the girl as she broke out of her own contemplation, "As the first thing I've actually found that speaks English I have a few questions for you."

She seemed to be waiting for some sort of response, staring at him, at the ring, with eyes that seemed too… He did not have the words for them only that they were too much of something. He tried to recall if he had ever seen such a green before.

"Yes… I will answer." He said slowly, the words slipping out of him, surprisingly bare and without promise.

"Excellent!" The girl exclaimed, a wild grin appearing momentarily on her face, only to disappear as she began to ask questions, "First thing's first, where am I?"

"Bree." He answered, not entirely sure what she'd meant, because surely she had read the signs on the way in or else been told.

"Bree… Where is Bree?" She asked as she came to the conclusion that she didn't know where Bree was.

"Between the Shire and Rivendell, to the west of the Misty Mountains."

"And where are those things?" She prompted again and he began to realize that he'd have to go much larger if she was going to recognize anything.

"…Arda, or else Middle Earth in the common tongue." He answered hesitantly and it was with fascination that he watched as she tried and failed to recognize the entirety of the world known to the race of Men.

"Well, that's not good… I've never heard of a Middle Earth." She stopped speaking for a moment, retreating into her own thoughts, only mutterings catching his ear.

"Are you from the west?" He asked, meaning across the sea although he could not picture this girl coming from there. He knew of the west, knew who resided there, no this girl was from somewhere else somewhere further east than Rhûn, further north than Forodwaith, or further south than Mordor and perhaps even further than those places.

"I have no idea; that's the whole problem. Wherever it is it's far enough that teleporting is out of the question." She sighed, as if she had already come to terms with this information and he had just confirmed her suspicions.

"I need to find a way back home, to where I came from, do you know of any experts on this sort of thing?" She asked and there was his opportunity, so glaring that it was almost as if it was written upon a sign. He felt at ease with the situation once again, because just as all beings before her, there was a chink in her armor.

"But of course, there are a select few who would know of what you seek." He said feeling the pieces fall into place. "Of those there is only one who would have the power to send you further than the bounds of the known world, Sauron lord of Mordor."

There was no hint of recognition, but that was not so odd, only the very old and very learned remembered his name from all those years ago.

"Okay, and how do I reach this Sauron guy?" She asked her eyes narrowing slightly as she stared at him wheels of thought spinning inside her head.

"Simple, wear the ring and his messengers will come to you, and from there they will take me to him and I can send word back."

She appeared to consider this for a moment, her heart an ever burning fire, and then she discarded his words as if they were nothing, "Oh, you sir, are not good at manipulation."

"What?" He asked, unsure of what was happening.

"If I just hand you over then there's no guarantee you'll ever send word back, whatever that means. Plus, if you mean the dementor horsemen, which by the way who decided it was a good idea to give the soul sucking demons horses, that passed through a few hours ago then they'd probably off me the moment I handed you over. In fact, I think there's probably a lot of other people who could help, people a lot less likely to shank me, and you just don't want to tell me." She concluded looking almost insulted that he had even tried to suggest such a thing.

This had never happened before. No one had managed to resist the ring's temptation so fully, there were some who needed to be worn down, but no one had been able to take his promises and with barely a moment's thought cast them aside.

There was nothing in her, nothing swayed, nothing even remotely tempted by the fact that he could give her what she wanted; more than what she wanted. He had offered her the world and she had dismissed him.

She continued, "Sauron, right, he's probably your other half. The original, I mean, it's why you're so desperate to get back. Are you sure that's really what you want? I know a horcrux and well… It's not always that easy."

"Of course it's what I want." He said, without a moment's hesitation, because there was none. How could there be? Without Sauron he was nothing, without him Sauron was a fraction of himself only together could they rule Middle Earth as they were meant to. For three thousand years he had thought only of that moment.

"And what will happen to you; when you go back?" She asked, pressing forward, but it seemed as if she already had an answer she believed.

"What do you mean what will happen to me?" He didn't know what she meant, could barely process the words, because she was not asking what would happen to Sauron but what would happen to the ring. He would of course remain the ring but why would she expect some other outcome; why did she think he should expect some other outcome?

There was that muttering on her end again, and it felt as if he was listening to some half-heard conversation, occasionally another different voice responding to her own thoughts. Then she seemed to have reached some decision, "I need a guide and translator here and in return I'll see that you get back home. That way we both get what we want, deal?"

And for whatever reason, for whatever thought possessed him, he answered hesitantly, "…Deal."


After hours of bartering, sketching maps, arguing, and compromising they managed to reach an agreement on the route they would travel.

They would not head directly to Mordor but instead zigzag their way across Middle Earth visiting the wisest and oldest of beings who might possibly understand what she was talking about. Should she find her solution halfway down the road she would summon the nazgül with the ring and leave it to them to deliver him to Sauron.

(Of course, she hadn't made it sound like that, she had phrased it more in terms of yelling at a man driving a cart and demanding to get on for a small fee. Hailing the dark cab, she'd said, or something similar enough that he got the idea of it.)

Although it was clear she knew nothing of the world he did not lie to her. He told her the wisest and fairest, those who would know the one ring and greater secrets besides it, he told her of Galadriel, of the istari in their tower Isengard, and of Elrond of Rivendell. After all, these were the beings that would become truly terrible should they choose to take the ring from her.

With the aura of the ring they would sense her miles before she reached their borders and when she did they would have to decide themselves where they wished to fall in the coming war. The great beings were always the most easily tempted by power.

They set out that morning, east towards Rivendell, and lord Elrond.

As she walked the girl introduced herself further, having not bothered to do so the night before. Or at least, that's what he thought she was trying to do, "So you really don't know who I am then?"

He was very tempted to respond back that she was a bizarre little girl who had probably been kicked by a mule in the head as an infant but he refrained.

"No Wizard Jesus in this place, then?" She seemed to think about this question for a moment and answered it for herself, "I can't decide how I feel about that, on the one hand it means I don't have to be Eleanor Potter anymore, but on the other hand… Well, what role do I play now?"

She didn't lack coordination, for her size and her thinness she was rather athletic, but all the same it was clear that she had never walked this distance before. She tripped every now and then over loose rocks, clambered over the brush leaving far too easily read of a trail, and sweat dripped from her but none the less she never complained or even thought to complain about the weariness of her limbs.

She seemed content to walk on in silence, only the occasional muttering of her thoughts being heard, and had it been any other bearer he might have left it at that and resumed whispering promises and temptations. He had never ceased this, there was always the undercurrent of temptation flowing between them, but she seemed immune or else completely indifferent.

The silence ate at him and before he could think better on it he found himself asking, "What is a Wizard Jesus?"

"You know, Jesus but a wizard." She said explaining nothing as she began to climb a hill.

"Who is this Jesus?" He asked and for a moment there was only stunned silence from her, where she physically stopped walking and stared ahead to the Misty Mountains barely visible in the distance.

"…So there's no Jesus-Jesus either." She said slowly something inside her cracking at the surface but before she could break she forced her thoughts to move on, "Well, I can't say it's surprising, since I haven't heard of anything here either… I may really never get back this time…"

She sighed and then continued walking, "Jesus is sort of a long story, we can talk about it later if you want, for now you can call me Lily." And then in a casual tone she asked, "And what exactly do I call you?"

Call him, he thought for a moment, and again didn't know quite what she meant. He recalled dark years with Shmegal, "My precious?"

Her eyebrows raised and she glanced down at her shirt where the ring was, lying next to her steady heart, and asked, "You want me to call you my precious?"

"I have been called it before." He explained, otherwise he had only been referred to as the ring and he had a feeling that she wasn't looking for that.

She pursed her lips as if deciding if she was going to call him that and finally seemed to come to a decision, "Are you sure, I mean you seem a bit more like Odysseus than… Well, if that's what you want, my precious, just don't blame me when people start mistaking you for my sex slave."

He had no idea how to respond to that.


It became something of a hobby, thinking about her, puzzling through the labyrinthine mystery that she represented. Where before he had spent the years picturing the future he might have, if he was only patient, he now spent the nights and mornings thinking on the girl Lily and wondering just who she really was.

She was no daughter of man and she made only the barest pretenses at pretending to be one.

It was clear she'd never travelled between kingdoms before, initially he hadn't been surprised by this, the roads were unsafe for grown and hardened men never mind a young girl. Her attempts to make camp, to find a road, to follow a map, were almost laughably pathetic but then she showed her hand in other skills.

She could make a fire by simply staring at unburned wood, she could float down great heights, she could walk on top of raging rivers as if they were solid earth; it seemed she was without limit if she only willed it.

She used no staff, no amulet, no ring, but instead willed the power from her very being and the world itself extended before her.

"You are not from the race of men." He commented a few days into their journey feeling the constant thrum of her power, like a second heart beat.

She seemed puzzled by this at first, as if she herself wasn't quite sure whether she should answer yes or no, finally she settled, "I'm close enough for most people."

She never truly lied, or if she did it was a rare occurrence that he had not yet caught, and even when she spoke her words usually were not always meant to be misleading. She meant to convey the truth, the world, as she saw it but never the less because of that very quality sometimes the meaning of what she said was lost.

"Close enough is not the same as being." He responded and she seemed to pause at this wording, something about the way he said it setting her off, but she stifled it for a moment and shrugged.

"Well, people see what they wish to see. If I'm close enough to pass then I'm close enough to be; for most people." She clarified without truly clarifying.

He went on to ask her if her parents had been human, she'd responded that as far as she knew they had been, but she'd seemed to imply that despite her heritage that did not make her human.

She did not reveal the limits of her power but in he came to believe that they were far greater than the tricks she revealed with such ease. It was possible that she was more powerful than the istari, more powerful than the witch Galadriel, and perhaps had a power to rival Sauron himself.

And she did not even appear aware of it.

She was not swayed as those who knew their own strength, who believed in themselves and reached forward, or rather she did not think that the tasks set before her were beyond her.

She was always burning, like a star, and he felt as if he were little more than a shadow in her light.


"I'm looking for the leader Elrond, I need help with teleporting to another dimension and not tearing apart the universe in the process."

He had not realized that she, Lily, was this abrupt and tactless with everyone she met.

These were the words, half spoken in garbled poorly accented Elvish that he translated for her, which she spoke to the guardsman who first came to arrest her for trespassing at the river's edge.

Needless to say she had not immediately been taken to Elrond but had instead been thrown back to the other side of the river.

However after she managed to breech the defenses, to build elaborate bridges made of air and climb above the raging water, they had eventually taken to the dungeons where she would soon be questioned by Lord Elrond.

There were worse dungeons to be placed in, the elves of Rivendell had always been more courteous than the warrior woodland elves, but none the less it was a cell complete with bars.

"Surely there was a better way to go about that." The ring didn't particularly care, he had seen the insides of prisons, the bottom of great rivers, the very depths of the earth and had resigned himself to seeing many more before he crossed into Mordor.

Her answer was a distracted and somewhat frustrated, "Look, I can't have a conversation with you and Lenin at the same time, even though you're both saying the exact same thing."

She didn't bother to explain this, or who Lenin even was, but after five or so minutes of what sounded like muted rapid conversation she turned her attention back to him. "I'm inside the place, Elrond's eventually going to have to come and see me for breaking in, and nothing's on fire I'd say I did pretty well."

"Nothing's on fire?"

"You know it's all gone to hell when things start catching fire." She explained and with that he had the feeling that there were many things unsaid but as usual she failed to elaborate.

As it was they ended up waiting in the cell for a few nights, enough time that the girl began telling tales of her homeland, sketching out ideas and thoughts on the walls. She explained the words that refused to translate, or she attempted to explain them, and with each word there were a thousand others that only she could understand.

They pertained to illusion, desire, life, the world, time, dreams, magic, starlight, and death. Things that were only connected to each other through metaphor and poetry seemed intrinsically interwoven in her mind as if you could not speak on one without somehow brushing against the others.

Reality, she called it, that which is only perceived but never truly seen.

It must have been a sight to the elves, to see a thousand words and pictures inscribed on the walls, and a girl standing amidst the chaos with eyes too green to belong to any man.


"My guards say that you wished to see me; when you passed through our gates."

The girl was removed from her cell for the conversation, perhaps they had decided that they were mistaken in believing her a threat, or perhaps they recognized that she was too large a threat to simply be locked away like a common thief.

For whatever reason she and Elrond walked about the grounds for this conversation.

"Yes, I'm afraid I'm very lost at the moment and I should probably be getting home." She'd responded after waiting for his translation, she was good at mimicry and picking up words, her accent was still terrible but she was understandable.

The elf lord took a moment to look at her, look at her strange clothing, hear her thick accent, and said "These are very dark times I'm afraid and we have tried to be very careful in recent years. A proper introduction is in order; I as you appear to know, am Elrond the lord of Rivendell."

She reached out with a hand, he stared at it for a moment, it seemed to be some custom from her homeland. When she realized he was unfamiliar with it she dropped her hand, "Lily."

"Lily daughter of…" The lord prompted but Lily just stared back at him blankly.

She knew of her parents, she had said as much, but for whatever reason she would not give her mother's name in this first meeting. Instead she repeated her own name, "Lily."

"Well then, Lily, what did you come to find me for?"

"I need help, without shattering the very essence of the world." She said very seriously before continuing, "I'm not from here, I'm from… very far. Possibly from the stars, I'm not sure, yours aren't familiar and that's not a good sign."

She looked up, stars had been the wrong word, she'd meant something else but whatever it was it was a concept that he couldn't catch only that it had something to do with the heavens and with starlight.

"Possibly from…" Elrond said only to be cut off by the girl.

"Point being, it's really far, and I have no idea how I got here or why and I should probably head back before people start missing me. I was told you were really old and really powerful, and I happened to be in Bree at the time, so I thought I'd stop by."

He seemed a bit floored by her words, not quite sure what to make of them, and the ring couldn't help but wonder when the last time the man's face had made such an expression. Ignorance, confusion, these were the emotions of the young rarely seen in an elf Elrond's age.

"They speak Elvish in this other land?" He asked suddenly seeming to piece something together.

"Oh, what, no I speak English. I just managed to pick up a translator and guide, my precious." She said and then, to the ring's sudden and growing horror, she drew him out of her shirt and showed the one ring to the Lord of Rivendell.

Of course he had intended this moment, this temptation, to abandon her as he had abandoned others but facing this directly was far different. He sang out every promise, every dream, every latent desire he could think to name and the elf's resolve flickered in front of him.

He was taken from her and for a single moment, the loss of her had almost been painful, a sharp sensation through his core, and everything seemed to grow cold without her light. The ring dangled on the chain before Elrond, glinting in the sunlight, and in that moment it seemed that Middle Earth itself was dangling with it.

Elrond gave the ring back to the girl, placing it into her hand and curling her fingers around it, and asked in a very grave voice, "Where did you find this?"

The ring did not translate, he left the words to her imagination, without his translation she looked at the lord blinking dumbly and then asked in an uncertain voice, "English?"

He asked again, more insistent, and the girl hesitantly responded to what she thought he was asking, "Not, speak… not work right." She said pointing to the ring and as she spoke her own sense of irritation growing at his refusal to cooperate.

But he would not participate in this conversation, he would not reveal his own secrets to this girl, he would not prevent his homecoming.

"This ring is very dangerous and very old." The elf lord grabbed the girl's shoulders, gently, but she still flinched at the contact, "A party recently came believing they had delivered it here for safekeeping; but they had lost it on the road and now you have found it."

"English!" She insisted more forcefully that bright fire of her soul blazing at the words at the frustration behind them.

He seemed to realize then that whatever miraculous thing had allowed her to converse with him had ended and that now she was a foreign girl with a foreigner's tongue. He encircled her hands with his own, encircling the ring, and very gravely looked at her so that she would understand without words, "The ring, it cannot be trusted."

She seemed to understand because something in her thoughts clicked, shifted, and she did not respond back to Elrond.

It was with a sense of foreboding that he listened to the now familiar mutterings of her thoughts, hidden just out of his view, churning away and deciding his fate.


A council was summoned, the likes of which had never been seen in thousands of years, where men, dwarves, elves, and even a hobbit sat at the same high table and discussed the fate of the world. And in the center of it all the ring was placed upon the table, bright words of fire dancing on the golden band, and staring out at them all.

And he had no idea what to do with himself.

It was almost flattering, all the attention he was receiving, for a moment he had felt oddly like a maiden in some high tower with thousands of sons of lords fighting for her hand beneath her windowsill.

After he had realized that he would not be thrown somewhere inside Rivendell, sequestered for thousands of more years, he had regained his distance from the situation.

Rivendell was not what it once was, it could not stand against the forces of Mordor let alone the traitor Isengard. The age of the elves was ending and with it the ability to safeguard the ring from Sauron.

The ring, the elf lord had declared at the beginning of the meeting, would have to be destroyed.

After that all chaos had broken loose, people bickering with one another, without even him prompting their actions. Elves and dwarves considered their age long feud with one another, men dreamed of too much glory to handle, some were shouting of madness and suicide while others were shouting of necessary hardships, and it seemed that everyone was at each other's throats.

The only ones that didn't partake were the girl, who had only been invited due to the fact that she had been the last bearer of the ring, as well as the hobbit Frodo Baggins who had originally intended to bring the ring to Rivendell.

The girl seemed uninterested, almost bored by the display, perhaps slightly confused but willing to wait for an explanation rather than demand one. She sat cross legged on her chair, staring across at him with a pensive expression, her eyebrows raised slightly at the scene.

She had tried, in the beginning of the meeting, to contribute in her own way with her limited grasp of the common tongue, but at this point it appeared she had more or less given up and decided to wait until it was all finished.

Frodo Baggins was staring at him in petrified fear, in horror, as he saw his world tearing itself apart.

And then there was a single voice of reason amidst the madness.

"I will take the ring to Mordor!"

All eyes turned to the hobbit, the girl Lily's included, and the hobbit continued, "I will take the ring to Mordor, though I do not know the way."


Initially she had not planned to travel south east with the fellowship, as Elrond had taken to calling it.

They had discussed it after the council meeting, when Frodo Baggins had confronted her in her quarters, shyly staring at his feet and thinking of all the words he needed to say to a foreign ring bearer who had somehow saved them all when hope was lost.

And perhaps half of her indifference came from juggling two conversations at once but nonetheless he'd felt something cold and hollow at the thought that she could so easily leave him behind.

"If you haven't noticed I have a vocabulary of about four words at the moment; until I get a little more fluent I can't even begin to ask the questions I need to." She'd said as she looked at Frodo with an alarmingly blank expression as she took in his words.

"I heard, that… I heard that you were the one to bring the ring from Bree to Rivendell." Frodo had started staring at her with a pleading expression. She just continued to blink and stare, looking as if there wasn't a single thought in her head.

"See, I got none of that, maybe Bree was in there somewhere." She said to him and with the equivalent of a mental sigh continued, "I think Elrond offered me a place to stay and pick up the language, I wasn't completely sure but he's not kicking me out and offered me a room. He seems to know what he's doing, more or less, so I might as well just stick around and ask him."

Frodo meanwhile, seemed fazed by her lack of reaction, but persisted never the less began again, "I just wanted… I thought I should thank you, for everything you've done. I thought my adventure would end here, and that I'd just head back home but… It's really far from over, isn't it?"

The ring spoke over Frodo's words, "This will take you time without a translator."

"You were a terrible translator. I didn't even know there was a quest thing until people started packing; I thought we were doing a reenactment of the Jerry Springer show." She dismissed again not bothering to explain why she would assume the council meeting had been some sort of violent play.

"I don't feel prepared, like someone who should carry the ring…" Frodo said, staring at the floor, failing to realize that the girl wasn't listening to a word he was saying, "I just thought you might understand since you actually carried it most of the way for me. It's heavy, so terribly heavy, even after only a few days it weighs on your soul. But, someone must…"

And it was in that moment that the ring realized that he and Frodo Baggins were trying to ask the same thing for very different reasons. Frodo Baggins wished to have a failsafe, someone who could carry the ring to Mordor for him should the worst occur, someone who had proven capable of resisting its call.

And the ring, he did not wish to part with her before he intended to.

They might believe they were taking him to his demise, past the black gates, but they were only bringing him home and he would see that she came with him if only for the entertainment.

"Frodo Baggins is asking you to join the fellowship." The ring said, abandoning his own arguments and methods of persuasion in favor of blunt honesty.

Lily looked over at Frodo, assuming the ring meant the hobbit, with raised eyebrows, "Why?"

"He believes that you could carry the ring should he fail on the journey."

Lily didn't seem to appreciate what a difficult task it was to resist the ring, to be a bearer, so there was no understanding at why Frodo had to be the one to carry the ring rather than the others who had agreed to accompany him. Certainly to someone uninformed it seemed like an idiotic decision, to give the ring to the weakest link in the chain, but never the less it was the safest decision they could have made.

It would not save them.

"What does this have to do with me and somehow finding a way to cross dimensions?" Lily asked but there was something there, something that understood, that Frodo's quest was not to be passed over and watched from the sidelines.

(In the back of her mind he could hear the murmurs of destiny.)

She'd failed to hold a conversation with Frodo Baggins but she recognized him for what he was, someone earnest and good, who faced more trials than he realized and more than he might be able to handle. There was a sense of recognition when she looked at Frodo Baggins; as if she had seen someone very similar before and could not turn her back with complete indifference.

"Because he will need your aid if he is to make it through the gates of Mordor."

At the same time Frodo finally asked, staring her directly in the eyes, "I'd like for you to join the fellowship."

For a moment she considered the pair of them, Frodo and the ring, no emotions on her face and as she did so Frodo babbled while the ring silently waited for her decision, "I know that it's dangerous, that you have no need to as I have already agreed to bear the ring, I know that it's a long journey and I know… I know you don't speak our language very well but… I think it's better if there were two bearers, instead of one."

She nodded stopping Frodo's words and said a single foreign word, "Alright."

And then the fellowship was ten.


"How far away is this Mordor place anyways?"

It'd been about a week on the road and Lily was beginning to grow weary. Not that she was alone in this, the hobbits were starting to feel haggard, and only those that were used to the open road were faring well. The journey was long and hard and each step made it seem longer, the songs they sang and tales they told could not distract their hearts from the true nature of their journey.

They currently were making camp, just before the fields of Rohan, a few of the hobbits learning swordsmanship from Boromir the man from Gondor, as the gray wizard and ranger kept watch over them with mirth. The elf kept watch alone on the horizon, the dwarf tended to his axes, and Frodo sat only a small ways away from the girl with Sam staring out at the path they had yet to tread.

"Far, even by the distance a crow flies." He said, because they had started from far to the northwest, and while the fields of Rohan would lead them close there remained the issue of whether they could truly cross them or not.

Because thus far the journey had been far too easy.

"Right, and why was I invited again?" She asked, looking around at her companions, who were all somehow managing to avoid looking at her. The Fellowship was uncomfortable with the idea of a young maiden managing to have brought the ring safely to Rivendell and now accompanying them on their journey.

There was talk of witchcraft, of a spy for Sauron, and he was not sure how he felt about this, because on the one hand it was a weakness to exploit. More so even than Boromir of Gondor's weak and mortal heart, their fear and suspicion towards her would destroy them before they even began, but he did not want them to turn against her.

He wanted her kept separate from them, apart; he wanted her heart to remain untainted and untempted. If he could carry her with him, outside of the mortal plane somehow, then he would do so but as it was he simply waited and watched.

"Because you are a ring bearer, even if you are unexpected, and such talents are not easily found." No one could deny her that, at the very least, even if she herself did not take this seriously.

"What are you, the arc of the covenant? Seriously, this is a lot of drama for a piece of jewelry." It was almost insulting how she really did regard him as a normal mortal piece of metal, as if the ring was the end of him, of course she knew this wasn't true and had told him as much when they had first met but never the less there was something about it that he didn't like.

"I am not a piece of jewelry!" He snapped back and Frodo clutched the ring to his chest, a slightly pained expression crossing his face as he did so, as he felt the One Ring's ire. Samwise, the other hobbit, inquired after him but Frodo only shuddered slightly.

"I think I should like to hear one of Bilbo's tales again." Frodo said slowly, turning towards Sam as he said it, "Sometimes it feels as if we shall never reach Mordor."

"Did he say something important?" Lily asked when he didn't bother to translate for her, he'd found that he'd needed to translate less and less as fewer of the fellowship attempted direct conversation with her.

That and she didn't seem to care what they said most of the time. Lily showed no true interest in politics or even the purpose of the quest they were on, only asking him what she felt she needed to know rather than listening in.

"Not particularly, he's contemplating telling one of his uncle's tales again to hearten his step. I think he's feeling a bit overwhelmed."

Lily groaned, placing her head in her hand, causing all members of the fellowship to turn from their various activities and look towards her, "No more rhyming stories, please."

Frodo looked as if he'd been struck and the rest unamused, with a pipe in his mouth and a sidelong look the gray wizard addressed her, "Miss Lily, it has been a long journey thus far with far more to go so perhaps you might keep your opinions on Master Baggins' tales to yourself."

Lily disregarded this loudly with a wave of her hand, as if the words were merely words that held no meaning, drawing (if possible) more irritation from her audience.

"I mean, maybe it'd be less of a problem if they were all stories about Rambo, and they didn't rhyme. But they're not about Rambo and they do rhyme, and I just can't take it anymore." She sighed, staring out into the plains and then stated with determination, "You know what, I should tell a story instead, from my homeland."

"From your homeland?" The Gondorian asked his eyebrows raising and lowering his sword to his side, "And where exactly is your homeland, Lily daughter of no one?"

"I already told you guys, I don't really know, it's probably in another dimension or on another planet."

Throughout the fellowship there was that thought running like a river between all of them that perhaps they should have insisted harder to the ring bearer that the girl Lily was not to accompany them. The gray wizard tolerated her more than others but even he was unnerved by her as he saw in her a too young sorceress with more power than he had ever imagined possible. This was not the journey to look into gifted youth and yet she was accompanying them anyway because they could not afford to fail.

Should Frodo fail in his quest they would have to pass the ring to her but that did not mean a single one of them liked it. And there were some, like Boromir who was already doubting and so very easily manipulated, who didn't believe a word she said.

"Of course once again you speak words that mean nothing, seeking to confuse us with half-truths and falsehoods, but you are not half so sly as you think." Boromir stepped forward towards her, ignoring the slight protestation from the hobbits or the wary eyes of the other fellowship members.

The One Ring was almost growing fond of Boromir, he could feel him so easily as he spoke, he was so very passionate. A good man, it was true, but he hungered for glory and justification. To prove himself the true heir of Gondor, the savior of his people, and it was dangerous to dream of such things when you were of the race of men.

Boromir of Gondor would be his salvation, he was certain of it.

Lily meanwhile was looking at the man with that distant and blank expression she almost always wore, as if her thoughts had shut off completely, and it was only after a little while that a rueful smile appeared at the corner of her lips as if someone had just said something particularly witty. And once again he could only hear that murmuring in her thoughts, as if there was some deeper river within her that he could not see.

He felt hollow at the thought of it.

"You know, manipulation isn't the same as being subtle."

"What?"

"I don't have to be subtle, sly, to get people to do what I want them to do." She said and then shrugged, "I mean, really, subtlety actually takes longer because then they have to figure out what the hell it is they're supposed to do."

Boromir seemed put off by this, as if he had wanted for her to deny his claim, and the rest of the fellowship seemed ill at ease as well. The girl however paid no mind and continued her explanation, "You really overestimate my patience if you think I'm going to waste time leading you all to your doom when I could just blow you all up in two seconds if I wanted to."

They all seemed to consider that, eyeing her and then turning to Gandalf the Gray as if to seek confirmation, and while Gandalf said nothing the fact that he did not outright deny her claim or say that this power was not possible spoke volumes.

"…That cloud is swiftly approaching." Aragorn mentioned, and the group turned to the horizon where indeed a dark cloud approached, far too swiftly considering the lack of wind. The elf ran to the ledge, peering forward, "That is no cloud."

"Spies from Saruman!"

And there was a flurry of movement where the fire was doused, the camp torn apart, and they hid under ledges and in bushes so as to avoid view. The only one who failed to understand was the girl Lily, who stood lamely in the middle in her brightly colored tunic.

The crows were almost overhead, she was about to be spotted, but then the elf quickly grabbed her and flung her under the bushes covering her clothing with his own body so she would not be spotted.

"What just happened?"

And it was only after they crawled out of corners and crevices, from under shrubs and rocks, that the ring answered her, "The pass is being watched."


They would have to take some other road in order to pass the Misty Mountains.

The mountain road was harder than the plains had been. The snow was deep even in the summer, and the hobbits were almost overwhelmed by it. The girl Lily had taken to walking on top of the snow, as if she were an elf and had decided to take up conversation with Frodo while the rest of the fellowship did their best to trudge upwards into the peaks.

"Are all people like you, in your homeland?" Frodo asked as he struggled through the snow. It was a rather halting conversation, as it took most of his energy to wade through and not fall over, but he had a deep desire to be distracted from his journey.

And as the ring well knew there was no greater distraction than the girl Lily.

"Well, we look alike." Lily answered after a slight pause, "I've always been… Well people are… No, not really." She finally concluded after failing to find a satisfactory answer, the ring had often wondered this himself, but it was hard to picture Lily belonging to any race or culture.

Besides, she seemed far too at ease with being ostracized.

"Oh, what are they like then?" Frodo asked.

Lily shrugged, "I don't know, most of them aren't even really people but more like…" Lily waited for the ring's translation but he himself was having difficulty understanding the concept. The idea was that people weren't thinking beings, that they were instead like songs or characters in plays, where they had no substance behind themselves and could only say what they had been written to say. That the world was a play that someone had written, whose plot wasn't immediately evident, and that only a few were anything more than characters.

But he didn't know how to say this, how to put this into a few words, a single word.

When he failed to find anything in time she finished the sentence, "Boromir."

"Boromir?" Frodo asked, confusion evident in his features, but Lily seemed pleased by her answer.

The ring felt disquiet at the idea, because hadn't he always thought something similar about the man, only he had approached it in a much different way. It wasn't a lack of being but a weak heart that drove Boromir's passions, he was lesser yes, but this did not mean he wasn't… true. That he was irrelevant, and yet, to Lily he appeared less than a speck of dust.

"Exactly, like Boromir." Lily said, her smile growing at having found and completed a sentence without the ring's aid.

Frodo thought on this for a long time, not quite sure what Lily meant, eventually deciding that she meant that her own realm was filled with men, like those who lived on Rohan and Gondor, who were noble and righteous thus missing the point completely. Ironic, that those words should warm Frodo's heart towards her.

As they climbed higher, and the snow and wind picked up, he eventually ceased talking, and as they neared the peak none could hear a sound above the white wind. Winter was fast approaching but it was too early for a storm of this intensity and if you listened closely dark and deep words could be heard amid the lightning strikes.

The elf commented about it and the wizard attempted to counter it, but he was only a gray wizard who faced the highest member of his order, and he could not bring down the storm.

"We should take the mines, Gandalf!" The dwarf said, sounding enthused, as he had been suggesting to travel through the mines since the very beginning believing his cousin still ruled there (but the wizard's heart was always dark when he thought of the realm beneath the mountain).

At Gandalf's hesitation others begin shouting, saying it was suicide to take on the mountain further and that they would not pass through alive.

But the wizard still seemed uncertain.

Finally the girl Lily spoke, her voice somehow perfectly clear above the storm, "What's wrong with the mines? If Gandalf the Dumbledore, who was tortured by evil Nazi wizards for a month doesn't want to go down there I don't know if I want to."

"What would you know, witch?" Boromir shouted, "We will die if we try to pass through this mountain, Saruman has seen clear to that."

"No, we'll just be really damn cold. If we pass through the mines then we get to meet what's making the gray wizard quake in his boots. I mean, not that I can't handle whatever it is, but judging by his expression I'm not sure that you can." She said sounding more than a little irritated.

"You doubt our courage?"

She didn't, she thought many of them were courageous to the point of stupidity, but she didn't say so. Instead she looked out over the peaks, turning from her fellow companions, and slowly wordlessly drew a great power out of herself. And suddenly there was no wind, and the snow around them hung suspended, as if they were caught in a picture somehow.

She turned back to them slowly and said grimly, "We'd better hurry it up, because he's going to try really hard to break these wards."

She made to move to the front, still walking on top of the snow, but no one followed. In their hearts dark flowers of suspicion grew instead, they grew from seedlings and blossomed with stained petals, and each could not help but think she had done so easily what Gandalf himself could not and that she seemed so desperate for them to follow the mountain road.

"Frodo, as the ring bearer, it is up to you what path we take." Gandalf said slowly, turning to the hobbit who was still staring at the girl.

For a moment the girl met the eyes of the ring bearer, and he found that they seemed inhuman, more ancient and cold than even the eyes of the elves. He saw her, and couldn't help but shudder.

And the ring could help but feel some cold dread flower blooming inside him as well; although he did not know its name.

"We'll take the mines."


The mines proved a trying experience for Frodo Baggins. In the light, on the fields, in the peaks, it was an adventure similar to that of his beloved uncle's. Of course, his uncle had been brief on the darker moments of his own journey. The ring had been there with him and he could tell Frodo just how much of "There and Back Again" was abridged.

In the shadows the dead lay with arrows still in their chests and their heads still smashed open. They had rotted in the deep and in the dark until only their bones remained, the rest consumed by rats and vermin and whatever else stirred in the depths.

Below them, where the dwarves had once hollowed out the mountain, the goblins now resided sharpening their axes and dreaming of flesh and blood from young and tender things. And the fellowship walked on, alone, with only two lights to guide them keeping mind to go swiftly before their neighbors gave them notice.

And the ring's own past lurked just behind them, almost out of sight. Shmegal had crawled out of whatever hole the ring had left him in and now followed on four limbs, "golum" catching in his throat every once in a while, fish eyes intent on Frodo Baggins.

How long had it been since he had thought of the pathetic, ruined, Shmegal? It had been a miracle that Bilbo Baggins had come to him that night, all those years ago, and there had not been a second thought in his head that it was time to abandon Shmegal for all he was worth.

Shmegal had held him the longest out of any living creature. Longer than Isildur, longer than Bilbo Baggins, longer even than Sauron his creator. But when Frodo looked back on the creature, consulted Gandalf on it, his heart turned so cold at the sight that the most pity he could conjure was a death wish.

The ring couldn't help but see the creature through Frodo Baggins eyes and think that he destroyed everything he touched.

But of course, such thoughts were unlike him (thinking in general was unlike him), and he decided not to pay them mind and instead think of the journey beyond the mines and the ruins of the dwarves.

At some point during the journey, Lily walked beside him in spirit, though physically she was far behind Frodo in the back of the group. Deliberately ignored, spreading light into the darkness with nothing more than her hands, staring out into the great chasms that seemed to go down infinitely.

"There is a shadow under this red rock,

(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),

And I will show you something different from either

Your shadow at morning striding behind you

Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;

I will show you fear in a handful of dust."

For a moment he forgot Frodo Baggins' heartbeat and instead felt as if he and the girl were the only ones who existed within Arda, with her footsteps he could hear his own (nonexistent) footsteps echoing, as if he was walking beside her in a solid physical form and could not help but stare at the fire that was her hair.

He could not understand her words.

They were unlike her, they were far too poetic, like elvish rather than the coarse casual and flippant language she preferred. They had the taste of prophecy in them, of old forgotten tales, and yet he could not place them. He could not understand them.

"This place reminds me of T.S. Eliot." She said after a moment, her eyes looking beyond him to the great columns, the city of the dwarves.

He had nothing to say to that, as he had nothing to say to those words, only that somehow they haunted him in a way that no being's words ever had. They lingered deep within him, like the marks he bore on golden skin, the words of his creation that defined him as a ring above all other rings.

I will show you fear in a handful of dust, she said.

(He was thinking such odd things, as of late, it couldn't be good for him.)

He turned his attention to the city itself and answered the question she hadn't asked.

"The dwarves had too much hubris and time and again it destroyed them." This was not the only mine that they dug too long and too deep in search of all that glittered, "Their numbers dwindle even further than that of elves; I suspect they will be the first race to disappear from this world entirely."

For a moment she said nothing but then, in a grave voice, she said, "So this world is collapsing too, then."

"It is the end of an age." He agreed cautiously, the elves were leaving, and there was uncertainty as to what the new millennium might bring. Whether it was the age of the Orcs, of Men, or perhaps even of Hobbits was not decided yet.

Should he return to Sauron the fate of the world would be sealed.

But of course, he would, that was why the fellowship existed after all. They would take him into Mordor itself and from there it would be all too easy to get where he needed. He really should thank Elrond at some point, because no one had ever thought to deliver him before.

"I think I'll bail, once we get out of these mines."

His thoughts of the future stopped and he felt his attention focus on her once again, that bright star like heart, and her eyes like the jewels the dwarves had killed themselves over.

He did not understand.

"Why?"

"Why not?" She responded without emotion, her heart as always that distant and untouched thing, "These people don't like me, I don't like most of them, and they've made it clear that they don't really want my help, and ultimately I don't want theirs. I don't even need theirs, I'm way above Gandalf the Dumbledore's power level so I might as well go back to see Elrond and see what he might make of all of this. Quests usually require reasons, and I don't have a reason."

For a moment he wanted to shout at her that she still did not understand Westron, Elvish, Dwarvish, or any intelligible language for that matter. He wanted to confirm that the dark lord Sauron understood this universe best, that he was the only one who might help her. He wanted to tell her that without her aid the fellowship would certainly fail; but he could not bring himself to say it.

I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

She continued once again, "It's been interesting, but it's time to move on. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."

He wouldn't.

(For a moment Frodo stopped in the middle, clutching his heart, his eyes alight in panic and he could not decipher why this feeling of dread was blooming through him so suddenly and without warning or reason. But the ring could not think of his own feeling spilling over into his bearer, not now.)

Although he knew what he sought, Sauron his creator the physical manifestation of himself, he knew without knowing why that he must also bring Lily with him or it would be as if he never reached Sauron at all.

He would not find what he was looking for if she did not come with him.

And he must find what he was looking for.

But the moment was lost for in that moment they found the final resting place of Gimli the dwarf's cousin and the hobbit Pippin summoned the goblin horde through his foolishness. Then there was only the familiar smell of war, of blood acrid steel, the screams of all races intermingled until one was hardly different from the other.

He felt himself detached from Frodo Baggins, indifferent to his terror at his first battle, at the troll that shuffled after him, striking a blow against the mythril he had been given by his uncle Bilbo Baggins. He had seen this scene so very many times before in so very many different places.

It was as if he was walking futher and further away even as they ran from the sound of something deep from below, from the feeling of fire and old death, and all at once the ring felt so very old and so very tired.

He was so tired.

One day he would be reunited with Sauron, soon, but soon was not soon enough and even then… And even then…

He was so tired.

They came to a bridge, the balrog following with fire in his hand, and Gandalf the Gray made to confront him but was soon pushed out of the way by the girl Lily.

"Miss Lily…" Gandalf started but she walked calmly forward, without hesitation or hurry, as if she had been born for this moment.

Only when she had reached the bridge did she look back, her eyes lit by the embers in the air, and gave them a small and softer smile than she had ever shown them before.

"Run, you fools." She said.

Then with a wave of her hand the bridge separated from the exit and slowly but surely began to tumble into the depths with her and the balrog still standing upon it.

It seemed as if time slowed, as he watched her sail off into the dark with a calm and wistful smile on her face, and though he knew Frodo Baggins would lead him to Mordor, would deliver him home somehow it was not enough.

And without a thought the chain broke and he threw himself after her into the darkness.


He fell for an eternity, and in that time he lost something of himself.

He forgot momentarily that he was a ring encircled by an ancient promise, to be a ring among all other rings apart and above, the one ring to rule them all and in the dark bind them. And instead he took form, form that was so unfamiliar to him and yet, a half forgotten memory from eons ago.

He was curled about himself, unclothed, falling so swiftly in the dark that it felt as if he had ceased to fall at all. As if there was nothing but the sensation of falling, weightless, without a bearer to guide his path, alone in the dark.

"And I will show you something different from either your shadow at morning striding behind you or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust." He whispered to himself closing his eyes and with that the memories so recent and fresh rose to his mind.

So young, a child by any race's standards, only an adolescent if she was descended from men… And yet, when she had found him on the street, she had been untouched by his whispers and had seen through them for the illusions they were. What had she seen in their place?

What would she show him in a handful of dust?

"I should not have jumped." He concluded, the darkness silent as he fell further and further into the depths of the earth, where it snowed and rained and a quiet sea raged far beneath him and out of sight.

"If I had stayed with Frodo Baggins, or even taken the mind of Boromir should the hobbit prove too valiant, then I would have returned to Sauron and he would regain physical form." He could feel his other's eye, still desperately searching in all the wrong places, the nine always on the loose rifling and looting and searching, searching, searching.

"I would have been home again, if only I had been patient."

But the darkness answered back that he had been so very patient. He had waited thousands of years, he had waited, waited, waited in the deep and the dark.

Listening only to the mad sounds of "My own, my love, my precious" until he wondered if things like rings could have names or titles of endearments. He had no sense of being so how could he be worshipped? How could he have virtues such as patience?

He had not truly thought of himself as himself, as a thing to be recognized and reflective, until he had met her bright green eyes.

And that was why he had jumped.

"That is why I must jump." He recognized, losing his breath at the thought, and as if that was the key to a vast door he hit the cold hard earth.

It was snowing, small white flakes, and his limbs shook with the chill of ice beneath him. He stood slowly, shaking, and it did not take him long to find her. The balrog had been slain, it lay dead with a sword buried in its chest, and close by was the girl a pool of blood beneath her.

"Lily." He called, walking slowly towards her, his hands shaking. She did not look up or towards him, her face away from his, her limbs in an awkward angle and that pool of blood spreading ever outwards.

"Lily!" He repeated, kneeling over her and grabbing her, pulling her into his arms like an oversized doll. But she was gone, there was nothing in her, not even a memory.

She was still warm, it must have just happened, he wondered at how he had not heard the noise. His fingers brushed her face, and left trails of blood, like tears beneath her eyes. All the while the snow kept falling in small silent flakes.

And then…

And then she blinked. Suddenly the wound was gone and she was staring up at him in confusion, looking slightly alarmed at being held by a naked stranger after having… After having died. But he couldn't move, couldn't speak, because she had blinked and he had seen and held her and known she was…

Suddenly he found himself being flung from her and pinned against jagged stone.

"So…" The girl started and then stopped, staring at him again, then her eyes widened almost comically in recognition, "Holy shit, my precious?"

Then before he could respond, think to respond, think how to respond she was clutching her head as if it had just been struck. She fell to her knees, still holding her head, and looking as if she might vomit.

He found himself released from the boulder and staring down at her, "Lily?" He asked slowly, uncertain of the word.

At the sound of his voice she appeared to pull herself together somewhat, getting back to her feet, rubbing at the center of her forehead as if that might expel the pain, "Sorry, distracted for a moment… How the hell did you get a body?"

He looked down at his new physical form, it was pale, but then he wasn't sure if he was surprised or not by this; whatever his feelings it had yet to subside and he had yet to return to the thin golden band he once was, "I don't know."

It seemed as if his words redoubled her pain as she clutched her head again and struggled to remain standing, "You don't know?!"

"I do not." He repeated looking down at himself again, "I fell and… I changed."

For a moment she just looked at him incredulously, as if she couldn't believe those words had exited his mouth, but there was nothing more he could say because he was not entirely sure himself.

"I've been trying to figure out how to do that for years!" She finally exclaimed then pulled out a strange red jewel from her pocket, an unpolished stone that fit in the palm of her hand, "I got my head bashed in and stabbed my professor all for this stupid rock that doesn't even work and you just did it?"

She seemed unusually upset by his words and somehow, despite having helped Suaron to conquer the nations of the free world all those years ago, despite the fact that she appeared no more than a female child, he couldn't help but take a step back.

"That's it, Lenin is clearly just incompetent!" She shouted only to double once again looking, if possible, more ill than before.

"Are you… ill?" He asked and she shook her head.

"No, no, just… frustrated at the senselessness of the splintering universe."

She sighed then, removing the blood from her clothing with a twitch of her fingers, and dressing him in foreign clothing in the same moment, "So what are you doing down here anyway? Shouldn't you be with Frodo and pals on your way to Mordor?"

He looked down at his clothing, darker more elegant clothing than what she wore, and yet it was the same in that the colors that were present were ones he had never seen in clothing before. He found himself fingering it, wondering how she created these things out of nothing, with such ease as if these were merely tricks to amuse a court.

He realized then she had asked him a question.

"I did not wish to travel further with the fellowship." He said simply and he found that he did not, now that they had parted ways he had no desire to seek out the company again.

"Well who would?" She asked, as if this was obvious that the fellowship were distasteful. Strangely he felt a pang of something at that, because they had been more than the casual dismissal Lily was now giving them.

True, Boromir had been susceptible, but Aragorn the heir of Isildur had true courage and honor flowing through his blood. They had been the best of all their assorted races; she simply hadn't been able to see it.

However he had no desire to correct her error though; that was not his responsibility. Instead he found himself staring at her, as if nothing had changed, because she had always burned this brightly, and yet incapable of burning herself out.

"You were dead." He said finally and she nodded, as if this was inconsequential.

"You were dead and yet returned." He said, and again she nodded.

"I told you I'm Wizard Jesus." She said, holding out her hands palm outwards towards him, a strange motion that looked as if it was supposed to be recognizable but he could not place it. Eventually her arms dropped to her sides again, and she sighed, as if somewhat disappointed that he hadn't been able to grasp what she meant.

"So what now?" She asked, "Are you still hitchhiking back to Mordor?"

"I…"

She smiled at him, grinned, and it was like she had replaced the sun in that island they found themselves stranded upon, "If you're not in a rush, why don't you come with me? Lenin will kill me, well not literally because he's somewhat impotent at the moment, if I don't find out how you got that body; so it'd be nice if you tagged along while I try to find a way out of this place. You in?"

He hadn't realized he knew how to smile as well.

"Yes."


Author's Note: Is the Ring a legitimate character in Lord of the Rings? Well, he is now.

So this was initially written for the 1800th review of "Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus", before I decided it was easier to just make a sequel to "Eleanor Potter and the Train Station Called Purgatory" and has been sitting half finished on my computer forever (as you can probably tell since Wizard Lenin is still in Lily's head at this point). So here we are, if there's enough interest I'll work on the second half (although remember that means everything else will slow down). I love my sporadic hard drive cleaning updates.

Also, a note, if I do continue this my knowledge of LOTR is little better than having watched the films, I know some of the books, but please forgive my lack of in depth knowledge here. Also, I would not put myself through the Silmarillion again, not even for fanfiction.

Thanks for readings, reviews are greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter