24 December, 3018. Third Age.

"And you have my bow."

Anarwen froze at these simple words. She turned slowly to her prince, who was, in the meantime, barely restraining a look of distaste for the dwarf now striding forward to add, "And my axe."

The insolent lord of Gondor launched into his own pledge, but Anarwen couldn't hear anything except her own panicked thoughts. He cannot possibly be doing this. We are here only as messengers, not as volunteers for this folly. The ring must be destroyed. But in all of Arda, there must be some other elf who could take the Hobbit to Mordor.

As these thoughts raced through his guard's mind, Legolas stood patiently listening to Elrond. A light breeze blew red and gold leaves across the east-facing porch, and the sound of the River Bruinen murmured in the background. His awareness of the elements had returned and peace settled within his heart as Elrond spoke, "… the Fellowship of the Ring." The rightness of it seemed to explain his impulse to follow Aragorn on this mission. And that was all it really had been, an impulse.

Normally reserved, Legolas had felt his emotions running high throughout the entire council. He had bristled at Boromir's condescension to Aragorn. Then he had fueled the tension by revealing the ranger's true identity. The thought that any subject would reject his true king hadn't crossed the prince's mind, so when Boromir spat out, "Gondor needs no king," it was only Anarwen's tug at his elbow and Aragorn's exasperated look that restrained him.

Annoyance at the man from Gondor had quickly turned to anger. It was inconceivable that any elf would let him take the ring to Minas Tirith. The One Ring should have been destroyed long ago, and would have been but for the arrogance of men. Now this braggart expected them to simply hand it over!

The council had quickly disintegrated into bitter words and accusations. Legolas rose to make his own sharp retort to either the dwarf or the man, he hadn't decided which was more in need of a lesson, but he was brought up short by a piercing realization: The ring is working its will on all of us. Even me.

It was like being thrown in the Forest River. All of Legolas's anger drained away. He stepped forward to put himself between Anarwen and Gimli, hoping to reign in his guard before things got any further out of hand.

She had beat Legolas to the punch with her own furious words for the dwarf. That this son of her King's onetime prisoner had the presumption to insult any elf, let alone her prince, was more than she could bear. Then Boromir had come to the dwarf's aid. If he cannot bend us all to his will, he'll forge allies among our enemies, she thought. Anarwen was on the verge of punctuating her verbal point with the one on her blade when a small voice spoke, "I will take it."

In the moments that followed, Anarwen's fury turned to wonderment at Frodo's courage and then blind panic as her prince walked forward.

"And you have my bow."

They hadn't crossed her lips, but they were five words that decided her fate.

***

I must get him to withdraw from this fellowship. He simply cannot go. He is heir to the throne, not some farmer who can fall in with whatever band of wanderers crosses his path. His father will not allow it. I will not allow it.

The stupidity of this last thought quickly turned her anger to shame. Anarwen could no more order Legolas back to Mirkwood than she could order him to put down his bow. She was his guard. Her only task was to ensure his safety.

Over the twenty years that she had held this post, it had frequently meant walking with Legolas into the heart of the Shadow's evil. Together they had killed more orcs and spiders than either of them could count. A small knot of fear was often her companion in these adventures, but her focused mind and skill with a blade had kept both the guard and her prince alive to see another campaign.

It just cannot be this one. He cannot go.

Anarwen's focused mind had deserted her after the council broke up. She had said nothing to Legolas when he turned around and asked her to join them for a meeting in Elrond's Hall. Two hours spent pouring over maps, and she had contributed fewer than ten sentences to the journey's planning.

The certainty that He cannot go had run circles through her mind all afternoon. Now it was almost midnight, and she wasn't any closer to thinking up a way to talk him out of it.

As she walked quickly along the terrace path, she heard raised voices from the gardens to her right.

"She stays for you!"

Anarwen slowed a little, struck by the despair in Elrond's voice. The fellowship planned to leave tomorrow. These would be the last hours Aragorn could spend near Arwen until the fate of all of Middle Earth had been decided. But he was not at her side. Instead he was here defending their hearts to Arwen's father.

Anarwen did not believe Aragorn would be coming back from this quest.

And for that reason, Legolas could not go with him. More determined than ever, Anarwen turned her attention back to the pathway leading up to the Last Homely House. She would find Legolas and talk him out of this. There was no other choice.

***

Legolas paced behind open balcony doors a floor above Anarwen, but he was too lost in his own worries to sense her approach. A small pile of crumpled papers lay in a semicircle around the room's only table. In the hours following that evening's meal, he had started a letter to King Thranduil many times, only to tear it up in frustration. How will I explain this to Ada?

Legolas, Anarwen, and two other elves had been sent by his father to the council. "Report what we know about the creature's escape and learn what Elrond has foreseen," had been Thranduil's terse instructions. Very little leeway in there to authorize guiding a Hobbit to the fires of Mt. Doom.

It did not help that he usually relied on Anarwen to write his messages, even those to Thranduil. She was the one who could find the right words to smooth over Legolas's more dangerous adventures.

The vexation his son's escapades brought to the king was a continual source of tension between the two fiercely courageous warriors. Thranduil had seen too many of his kin slaughtered through foolish acts on the battlefield. He never doubted his son's abilities, but Legolas frequently chose the bold route rather than the prudent one.

Now Legolas found himself at a loss to explain his hasty decision to join the fellowship. Many justifications could be found in the floor's growing pile of wasted paper. But he doubted that any of them really showed the need to send Thranduil's only heir into Mordor. Another elf could easily take his place. That would be his father's first, and only, judgment.

He only hoped that the king would not berate Anarwen for this decision.

And that was the other source of Legolas's worries. Even if he could finish writing a message to his father, he still had to convince his guard to take it home to Mirkwood.

If there was one thing that he could depend on, it was that his half-elven guard would not easily leave his side. Even if he ordered her to.

Anarwen. Legolas remembered the stony look on her face as the newly-formed fellowship left the council. Elrond had finished explaining to Pippin exactly where this "thing" was headed. Legolas turned to speak with the rest of the Mirkwood elves, and all his amusement at the Hobbits fled as he looked into her dark eyes.

Legolas felt the first touches of misgivings then. They only grew worse during the meeting in Elrond's Hall. Despite how little Anarwen spoke, it was clear from her remarks that she believed she was going with him. No one there reminded her that Elrond had only counted nine companions. They left it to Legolas to resolve matters.

As the moon passed behind pale clouds, Legolas wondered how he would explain to both his father and his guard that he was willing to risk his life for this quest, but not hers.

***

Anarwen knocked softly on the door to Legolas's chambers. It opened silently to reveal the prince's fair face lit up by oil lamps suspended from the high ceiling.

"My lord," she said, looking him straight in the eye.

Legolas smiled. He knew when she was ready for battle. As both half-elven and female, Anarwen had spent much of her 73 years wearing this exact look of determination. Mirkwood's elves viewed both these qualities as equally suspicious in someone who had enlisted in their realm's defense. After he had trained her to be his personal guard, putting her at his side but outside of the regular forces, she had eased into less rigid expressions, particularly when they were alone. So tonight I am to be your foe, he thought.

"Anarwen. I have missed your talent with a quill," he said, gesturing to the remains on the floor.

"I am afraid I cannot scribe what I do not understand. Your father must receive your own words this time." You have assigned us both to suicide, she thought grimly. Do not jest with me.

Legolas weighed his words before responding. Sharing his own apprehensions was not an option. She would only use them to persuade him to return home. And the truth, that he had joined this fellowship with more emotion than consideration, could have no part in this discussion.

"There is nothing to understand beyond what Lord Elrond has already explained. The destruction of the ring will bring about Sauron's end. The mission must succeed or Mirkwood will fall to the Shadow just as quickly as Gondor. I do this for our kingdom."

"You choose a journey Dormallen or Antion could easily take in your place," she said, referring to the other members of the Mirkwood delegation. "The elves can be represented by many other than us."

"We are not going. I am."

Silence replaced their steadily rising voices. Anarwen stared at him in shock.

Legolas moved closer to her. He was tempted to take hold of her hands and soften the blow of his words. But he had never taken such a step with his guard, and the darkening expression on her face held him back from attempting it now.

"Where you go, so do I." To Anarwen, it was that simple.

"I pledged only myself. I cannot ask you to do this."

"You do not ask. I have sworn an oath to you. It is not altered by your whims." Anarwen instantly regretted her words. Insulting her lord was only going to make matters worse. She looked away so she did not have to see his expression.

She was so often silent company that Legolas had forgotten what a sharp tongue Anarwen could have. Pride getting the better of him, he said the first thing that came to mind. "Then it will be decided by my orders. In the morning I will have a message ready for you to deliver to my father."

"You send me to tell your father that you plan to accompany a band of halflings to Mordor? With a dwarf?"

Sarcasm came easily to Anarwen but usually it remained locked in her thoughts. Desperation that he might actually leave her behind was choking in her throat and watering her eyes. I will not cry. I am not some simpering elleth. She turned back to face him. "I am your guard, not your courier."

"Then you will be neither."

Both of them had gone too far and did not know how to turn back.

Anarwen could think of nothing to say. Words floated away from her. She let her gaze fall to the floor and felt the full weight of her failure.

Legolas took in Anarwen's appearance. Her long, dark brown hair. Eyes that matched its hue but were now hidden from him. A body tall enough to be near his height but not as lithe as her Eldar lord.

For twenty years she had been a constant in his life, an extension of him trained perfectly for her duty. He could not imagine a journey without her at his side, but neither would he assign her a quest such as this one. He would not gamble with her fate simply because he was willing to do so with his own. A brief image of him holding her broken body on the ruins of a battlefield flitted through his mind.

Anarwen tried to order her thoughts but could not. She had not felt so alone in many years.

"Then I will not keep you…" They were the only words she could force out. She walked stiffly to the door. There was silence behind her.

***

Anarwen closed the door and slowly made her way down the corridor. Just as tears threatened to escape her control, an idea came to her.

I am no longer his guard. If I am to determine my own journey, then it shall be with Frodo.

The fellowship's other elf would just have to accept it.