Aza awoke on the bank of the river. Her throat was hoarse from swallowing so much salt water and her body stiff from the chill of said water. She tried to move, but found it painful to do so. She just lay there, unable to move and hardly able to think. Sleep seemed not too far off and yet she didn't want to slip into that land of peace, for if she did she didn't know if she could ever wake again.

Her eyes became so heavy that she thought she'd fall prey to sleep soon if something, or someone, didn't come quick.

They closed.

"Aza? Aza!" a voice called. Her eyes cracked open and she felt a pair of warm arms embrace her.

"Legolas?" her voice cracked. "Tauriel?" Tauriel's kind face moved into her line of vision

"You're alive," he said and held Aza's head to his chest.

Aza wanted to say something witty, but all that came out was, "Cold." She began to shiver. "W-where are the dwarves?"

"They have left," Tauriel said.

"Why did you not leave with them?" Aza whispered to Tauriel. "I thought you loved him." She let out a shiver and curled closer to Legolas and his warmth.

Tauriel's expression fell.

Legolas held her tighter. "We need to get you someplace warm."

At the mention of warmth, something internal began to warm her. Aza turned her face to his chest and rubbed her cheek. "Thank you."

He lifted her up and carried her through the people. "Please, can you help her?" he asked a woman who held an armful of blankets.

The woman looked at Aza's pale face, "Of course. Bring her here." She wrapped Aza in blankets and settled her next to a child. "Watch over her," she told the young girl.

The girl nodded and looked up at the elf with large eyes. "Is she your wife?" she asked, quite innocently.

Legolas looked at her with a look of longing. "No," he said. "No she is not." He then left her there, in the care of the newly homeless people

Aza was far too delirious to think straight, let alone comprehend what was going on. Her eyes cracked open as she watched Legolas and Tauriel go. They fluttered close again.

Colors passed across her vision. They swirled and spun until they dissipated. Leaving her in the dark.

"Azriela," a familiar, but smoother voice called out to her.

In her mind, nothing was damaged. She whirled around, "Who is there?"

The voice chuckled, "I think you know. Did you enjoy the ride? I was sure you would have fallen off in the first few seconds. Yet, you managed to hold on long enough to…. I am surprised by this development, but I am quite pleased by it as well."

Aza turned again, this time the speaker came into full view.

It was a man. Tall and lean. He was naked, but somehow it didn't matter as Aza never cared to look further south that his chest. His face was sharp and handsome. His eyes were a blueish green and his hair was dark and thick. His smirk, however, was what really jogged Aza's memory. It was cruel and cynical.

"You," she breathed. "How did you-?"

"That's not a question for me," he chortled. "The question is: what are you going to do?"

Aza gave him a quizzical look, "What?"

He moved closer to her, his eyes becoming amber, "I mean, will you accept?"

"Accept?"

"Give me power," he growled, "give me life!"

Aza inhaled sharply as she woke. People around her were cheering for the man who shot down the dragon. She stood, the blanket falling from her body. "Miss!" the girl cried as Aza walked over to Bard.

She looked so small. Her staff and robe were gone. All she wore were her clothes; even her boots had somehow been lost.

Her limbed more than walked. She looked like she was half-dead as she made her way over to the gathering.

"All hail to the Dragon-Slayer. All hail King Bard-!"

Aza recognized him as the man on the boat that crashed into hers. Anger flooded through her, he had almost cost the lives of three children and five of her friends. An odd feeling accompanied her righteous anger. Something that was not her, surfaced and she stalked forward. With a surprisingly strong arm, she knocked him down with one punch.

"Be silent, toad," her voice came out low and dangerous and somehow not her own.

She looked around.

A man called out, "She spoke with the dragon!"

"She rode the dragon," another called out.

Aza felt all of the odd strength and personality fade from her. "Oh, look you're famous now." Snicker. "You're welcome…" the voice echoed in her head. Her cheeks became red.

Bard looked at her. "You spoke with the dragon?"

She nodded. "You slew the dragon?" she said, responding to his question with a question.

He nodded.

Aza looked around her. The air had turned cold and she shivered as a gust of wind came and chilled her in her damp clothes. She could feel the plants, what few there were, retreating into the earth. Quietly, she said, "Winter is coming." She looked to Bard again. "Your people need a leader, if only for a short while. I cannot think of anyone else who cares deeply enough to do what's right."

Bard did not seem to be pleased with what Aza had to say. But he knew it to be the truth. He certainly couldn't leave these people in the hands of someone like Alfrid.

He called out to the survivors. "We must look to our own. To the sick and the helpless. Those who can stand, tend to the wounded. Those who have strength, follow me. We must salvage what we can." He moved to the wreckage.

"What then?" Someone called out, "What'll we do then?"

"We find shelter."

"And I know just the place," Aza thought as she looked to the mountain looming in the distance.