Author's Notes: I feel so loved! The Little God of Writing visited me today and told be to get off my lazy bum and write. So here I am. A few notes!
Firstly - I'm back! Isn't that a shocking turn of events. Of all the writing I've done recently, none of it has been truly LOTR related at all.
Secondly - I may or may not be including the film's insertion of the elves at Helm's Deep. It depends on How Boromir gets there. It may be the only way for me to get him there.

Where We Begin
Chapter Two:

"... but I can't do this all on my own.. No I'm no - I'm no Superman..."

"Get up. Try again."

"I can't!"

"You can! You must!"

"I can't do it!"

Tears streamed down the girl's face as she lay on the ground, cuts and bruises lacing over her body. Her clothes were in tatters, and a sword was strapped to her back. The white haired man stood over her, a feirce expression decorating his face.

"If you cannot do it, then you cannot fight the Shadows."

"NO! I will! I just need time!"

"You don't have time."

The girl rolled over and lifted herself up slightly with a grunt, struggling to stand. She stumbled to her feet as the man watched, she turned a stubborn expression to the rocky clifs above her and began to climb.

*

Reighn blinked back tears of pain as it seared through her. The gate was tearing at her, ripping her flesh and soul alike in something akin to being sliced into ribbons one agonizing hit at a time. She could feel her skin tearing under the unbelieveable pressure and she knew. She knew that something did not want her to enter Middle-Earth. She knew it from the very heart of her being. Yet, she would not let it tear her asunder. She had a mission to complete, one that she could not fail, she had to complete it, she didn't know why, but she would. A flash of light coloured the backs of her eyelids with white dots as she fell out of the portal to the leaf covered ground below her. She took a deep breath a struggled to her hands and knees, dry-heaving before finally decorating the forest floor with the contents of her stomach.

She hated traveling by portal. It was one of the worst experiences of her life. She rose to her feet and looked around, finding herself in the clearing where she'd been earlier that day. She was clad in tan doeskin boots, breeches and vest, a white undershirt, her hair pulled back in a braid and a tan cord wrapped around in from the end to the base of her neck. A quiver was strapped to her back, a longbow with intricate knots carved into it rested a few feet away where it had rolled to after she'd dropped it. The sword Athair was strapped to her waist, gleaming white-silver in the dappled sunlight.

With a sigh Reighn retrieved her bow, slung it across her back and turned to leave, stopping in her tracks at the sight that met her emerald eyes. At the edge of the clearing was a gleaming palomino mare, her honeyed coat dappled with sunlight as her silver mane and tail were ruffled in the wind that moved through the trees. Intelligent brown eyes watched Reighn for a moment before the mare moved forward, her elegant lines showing. The mare stopped just in front of Reighn and reached forward, bumping her nose against Reighn's arm. Reighn reached up and scratched the mare between the ears as a smile graced her lips. This was one of the Maeras, the kings and queens of horses, merely legends in the future.

"And what is your name?" Reighn asked softly. Looking into the mare's eyes for what seemed like an eternity, which was actually only moments. "Sunfire? It fits you. You want me to ride you, don't you?"

The mare bobbed her head in the affirmative before turning and looking back at Reighn pointedly. The Sorceress laughed and quickly mounted the horse. She wove her fingers into the mare's silky mane and they were off. Reighn watched the trees flash past as Sunfire manuvered around trees over logs and over bushes. The mare seemed to know where she was going, which was a lot more that Reighn could say for herself. She would let the mare guide her to wherever it was that she was needed, be it in battle or no.

*

When he woke, it took Boromir a few minutes to orient himself, then another moment to remember where he was and how he'd gotten there. In all respects he should have died at Amon Hen, he shouldn't have found himself in Lothlorien over half healed three days later and feeling good enough to head out after the Fellowship. He rose and pulled on his boots and tunic before moving out of his room while buckling on his belt. He'd left his armor behind, since he honestly wasn't going anywhere until Galadriel said he could, and he wouldn't argue.

However, Boromir felt that she should have left the moment he could walk without falling over. His allegeance didn't come cheaply, and he'd pledged his to Aragorn, to true King of Gondor, and he would keep that promise. He was still rather confused on the whole. He should have very well been dead, yet when he'd opened his eyes he wasn't in hell, he was staring up at an angel, who seemed to be literally glowing. He didn't know who she was but he was pretty sure Galadriel could tell him.

Walking down the steps that led to the forest floor from the House of Healing wasn't that diffucult, and finding Galadriel was a matter of asking a startled Elf where she was. When he descended the steps into a small clearing the golden haired elf was pouring a pitcher of water into a bowl of some sort. She turned her penetrating eyes to him and a slightly smile graced her features.

"Will you look into the mirror, Boromir, son of Denethor?"

"What will I see?"

Her smile grew slightly at the cautious question that she remembered a small Hobbit asking her only days before. "Things that were, things that are, and some things, that have not yet come to pass."

Boromir didn't really know how to reply to that, so he stepped forward and looked down into the glassy water. The water shifted and he found himself watching the end of the council at Rivendell, Moria, Lorien and Amon Hen. He watched at the woman who had saved his life came seemingly out of nowhere before she chanted something in a language he truly didn't recognize and then she vanished. Moments later she was standing in the clearing again, Orc bodies scattered about but there was no other sign of life. He watched her mount a golden colored horse and head off in the direction that Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had gone - toward Rohan. The images blurred into the woman and himself standing in the gates of Minas Tirith, covered in grime, both holding swords. Then it flashed to watching a confrontation between the red-haired woman and a shadow enshrouded witch. In the end, the red-haired princess died.

He pulled away from the mirror and looked up at the Elf-Queen with wide and confused eyes. Galadriel simly smiled. "She is from a place far from here, and you will meet with her again. Whether or not she dies, will be up to you. Should you leave now, you will make it to the Fellowship in time to make a difference, should you not..." Galadriel trailed off, before speaking in a clearer tone. "Dark times follow you and those you follow, be wary."

Boromir simply nodded before turning to collect his things and leave.