Chapter four! I'm on the run again (sigh), but thank y'all so, so much for all your support! It means the world to me. :)

Please excuse any grammar errors, typos, ect., in this chapter - it was edited on a phone, and phones generally hate me.

Enjoy!


The sun had just crested the horizon, and already Tauriel found herself faced with a dilemma. Three tall, stern figures eyed her with distrust and annoyance clear on their faces. Gimli watched from several feet away.

"Who is she?" Boromir finally demanded.

Gandalf muttered something under his breath. "Her name," he said slowly, "is Seena."

Aragorn continued to gaze at her. His dark eyes were making her nervous.

"I am honored to join you," she said. A lie. She made no effort to disguise her voice.

Legolas's eyes sharpened as he recognized the smooth and melodious voice that often accompanied elves. "Pedig edhellen?"

"Aye," Tauriel responded. "I do." A truth.

Aragorn frowned. "You are an elf." It was a statement, not a question.

Still, Legolas studied her. She could feel his eyes on her, drilling through the thick cloak and into her very soul. She shivered almost imperceptibly.

"Yes," she said. "I come from Rivendell. Gandalf requested that I join the Fellowship on the quest."

And still he stared at her. Finally, he asked one of the questions she had been dreading. "Have we met? What do you know of those in the Fellowship?" Legolas's voice was cold.

Inwardly, Tauriel quailed. For an instant, she wanted to tell them all the truth and do away with her lies. "No," she said calmly. "We have not met, although I am acquainted with the Elvenking, who is, I believe your Ada. As for those around us, I am no expert. I know that you are from Mirkwood, and that Aragorn – or Estel – is from Rivendell as well. I know that Frodo is the Ring Bearer, and I believe Boromir hails from Gondor." She did not mention any of the other Hobbits, nor did she speak of Mithrandir.

Her vague answers did not appease Legolas.

"How do you know I am from Mirkwood?" he demanded.

She winced imperceptibly. "I knew your Ada," she said simply, repeating herself, hoping to let the subject die.

"Lower your hood," Aragorn requested calmly, picking up on Legolas's hesitation.

Tauriel hesitated. She had not truly tested the glamour before, and she was far from accomplished in the skill. Fingering the rim of her hood, she inhaled deeply. As she felt the magic strengthen, her anxiety faded.

She dropped the hood.

Her hair was a fine, ashen blonde; her brows dark and arched. Her face remained virtually the same in shape, but her nose was slightly thinner and straighter, her lips slimmer and her cheeks harshly defined. Her eyes alone remained completely unchanged. A clear, bright green, they were framed by long, pale lashes.

Her eyes met Legolas's. Grey burned into green, sending sparks of anxiety fluttering to the very tips of her fingers. Tauriel blinked, dropping her gaze.

"Satisfied?" she said sharply.

"No," Legolas said baldly. "I cannot place your face, but we have met before. I can feel it, just as I felt your presence." He shook his head. "And all this time I believed myself to be paranoid. I will leave it to Aragorn to decide."

He knew I was there, Tauriel thought, filing away the thought for future reference. She glanced at Boromir, in time to see the resentment flashing across his face at the dismissal.

"She seems trustworthy enough," Boromir inserted. His voice was harsh, but Tauriel concluded that it was naturally so. She wondered how he came to the conclusion, and if it was a lie.

Aragorn glanced at Boromir. "How so?"

"Her eyes," Boromir said simply.

It was Tauriel's turn to frown. "My eyes?"

"I have never seen such eyes in an elf. That fact stands alone. But my mother had green eyes, and she was honest all her life. I have never known someone with green eyes to be untrustworthy."

Another piece of foolishness. She wanted to scream. The color of one's eyes meant nothing!

"They run in the family," she snapped, and then paled, cursing her own foolishness. Many years ago, she had said those very same words to Legolas in a burst of anger. Once again her tongue had run away from her.

Legolas's face was tight. She recognized the expression. He was reaching for a thought, and though it was slipping away at present she had no way of knowing what he might remember later on.

Gimli moved towards her, glaring upward into the folds of her cloak. She knew that, at his height, he would be able to see every aspect of her face clearly. She breathed a sigh of relief that the glamour remained in place.

"She's an elf all right," Gimli declared. "And a fine looking lass, if I do say so myself."

She pushed back a smile. She liked Gimli, had liked him ever since she first saw him in Rivendell. The feeling had only intensified. "Thank you, master dwarf."

Aragorn had remained silent throughout the conversation. "You know Arwen," he said.

Tauriel swung herself around to face him. "How did you know?"

"She spoke of a dear friend who might be joining the Fellowship. I take it you are the friend."

Dear friend.

Mellon nin.

"Yes," Tauriel said softly. "I am, though I would not go so far as to say we are close." She could not bring herself to lie. Not this time.

"She spoke well of you," Aragorn said. "From what I have heard, you can handle a blade quite well. Arwen seemed quite impressed by your skills, if I remember correctly."

Thankfulness welled up inside her, tainted by remorse. She had pushed Arwen away, and still Arwen spoke of her as if she was completely innocent.

"I have held a blade in my hand for a good portion of my life." It was the only answer she could give.

Aragorn nodded. "Aye. I have no cause to doubt you. Pray we have no need to test your skill anytime soon." He turned to Legolas. "She will join us. Wake the hobbits. We move out in a half-hour."

"Have her train them," Gandalf interrupted from around his pipe.

Both Tauriel and Aragorn whipped around to face him. Aragorn looked surprised, but nodded his assent. "It will be as you wish." A question hung in the air, unspoken. Gandalf seemed to have no intention of answering it.

Tauriel glanced at Boromir, standing several feet away with his arms crossed and a sour expression on his face. A long sword hung at his side. Deep down, she felt a tug of curiosity. She wanted to know more about this strange, brooding man with a blade almost half his length hanging from his belt. If he carried it, he surely knew how to use it. And if he ever did try and take the Ring, she wanted to know what he was capable of.

"I will train them," she agreed, then nodded towards Boromir. "But I will need his help."


"Frodo."

Tauriel, the Ring said. She ignored it.

"Frodo, I need you to trust me."

He looked at her, his heart beating slightly faster than normal. He is scared, she thought, and she could not blame him. He was alone with her, alone with someone he did not know and the Ring always calling.

Tauriel crouched down to his eye level. His eyes were not scared, and she grudgingly admitted that he was brave.

"You will learn to fight," she said.

"Fight what? he asked.

It was a good question, and one she could not fully answer.

"Everything and anything that might stand in your way." She hesitated. "Enemies are all around us now. But most of all, you have to learn to fight the Ring."

He paled. "The Ring is strong," he said.

Tauriel nodded. "But you are stronger." She rose, studying him with sharp eyes and a question burning in her mind. The cloak she had worn constantly dropped away, revealing her leather arm-guards and breastplate. Her attire was similar to what she had worn back in Mirkwood as Captain of the Guard, but slightly looser in the legs and tighter in the waist. The color, too, was different, a deep brown that blended in better with most backgrounds.

Immediately, she saw Frodo's eyes focus on the pair of daggers strapped to her waist, then flick to the sword hanging from her left side, and the quiver full of arrows hanging close to her leg.

"The daggers. Where did you get them?" Frodo asked her.

Her eyes flickered. "My mother gave them to me many years ago." She flipped one of out its sheath, handing it to him with the blade facing towards her. The Elvish steel shone bright in the dusky half-light right before dawn.

Frodo considered the blade with something akin to awe. Lifting a finger to the keen edge, he fingered it. Tauriel did not have a chance to tell him that it was razor-sharp, and could easily part flesh even if you barely touched it.

Wincing, Frodo quickly removed his finger and pressed it hard against the cloth of his trousers. A dark stain spread, then began to ebb.

"Watch yourself," Tauriel warned him. "The blade is keen."

"Are we to fight with these?"

She nodded. "Aye. If you do not hold a true weapon, you will never learn use one properly." A hiss of steel against leather, and the twin to his blade was in her hand. "Attack me," she said calmly.

He hesitated, and then rushed her with his blade held high. Immediately, Tauriel saw dozens of faults – in his stance, the way he held his blade, even the way he was breathing, they were all wrong.

"No," she said. "Stop."

He froze, a frown creasing his brow. "What?" he whispered.

She moved towards him. Adjusting the way he held the dagger would be easy; that much she knew. But his instinctive actions would be harder to deal with. He would have to learn to breathe evenly, to move smoothly and to hold his blade correctly before she would risk sparring with him.

"Breathe out," Tauriel ordered. Frodo did so, relaxing slightly and letting his right hand drop smoothly to his side. Her eyes did not miss the natural, easy movement. "There," she said. "That is what I want you to do when you fight. It has to be smooth. When you rushed me, you were forcing yourself. That is wrong."

Someone tripped and swore behind her.

Boromir, Tauriel thought, turning to face him.

"At long last," she said aloud. He was late.

Boromir's jaw clenched, but he said nothing in his own defense. "I am sorry," he said curtly. "What do you wish me to do?"

Tauriel studied him. The sword hanging at his side drew her attention. She glanced at Frodo, then back to Boromir.

"I want you to fight me," she said.

For an instant, he looked surprised, but the emotion quickly faded, replaced by a burning curiosity likely identical to her own. He wanted to know what she could do.

"Very well." He drew his sword, examining the point before sliding it back into its sheath and waiting for her to prepare.

"Frodo. The dagger," Tauriel said quietly. Frodo nodded, and unknowingly handed it to her blade-first. A small cut opened up on the thick callouses of her palm, but she hardly felt it. A dagger in each hand, she tossed them high, catching them by the hilt as they fell. A sigh escaped her lips. This was what she loved. The smooth metal was warm in her hands, an extension of her arm.

Boromir's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but whether it was from surprise or something else she did not know. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Tauriel nodded her assent. "Frodo," she said, "It would be wise to move away."

Frodo paled, nodding vigorously and taking a half-dozen steps backward. Tauriel saluted Boromir, and he did likewise. There was a second's pause, and then he moved smoothly towards her, the sword held easily in his hands.

Always move first. It was a mantra drilled into her head, but in this case she did not make the first move. She waited. Waited until he was but a heartbeat from running her through before she lifted a single blade against his sword. Metal clashed and sung, her dagger emitting a high pitched ringing sound as it grated against steel.

Boromir disengaged. He was slightly warier now, his eyes cold, searching for an opening.

Tauriel smiled.

A flicker of anger, and then he was coming for her again. She spun, ducking and twisting, almost sweeping him from his feet. Her booted foot connected with his chest, sending him staggering backwards. She moved towards him, her white hair swirling around her knees. Boromir scrambled to regain his footing, lurching away from her.

She laughed. Not out of spite, but out of joy. The daggers in her hands seemed to be humming, and her whole body was alive. She had not realized how much she missed her once-common fights with other elves in Mirkwood.

Spinning towards him, she ducked under Boromir's blade and twisted his head back. One of her daggers was at his throat.

He froze, and then grudgingly dropped his sword. "I yield," he said.

She released him, a smile blooming on her lips. He was still, a frown on his face as he looked at her. She held out a hand, and after a moment's pause he accepted it. She heaved him to his feet.

Frodo gaped at her from several yards away. She smiled at him, too, her cheeks aching with the force of it.

"You handle a blade well," Tauriel said. "I should not have allowed myself to show emotion. It was your undoing, and was not completely fair." She admitted to herself that those words were likely false, but continued. "If it eases your mind, I was not laughing at you. Indeed, I have not enjoyed a fight so much for many years."

His face was still stern, but the anger in his stormy eyes was fading. She knew deep down that he would not hold a grudge against her, as many might.

He studied her, and oddly enough his gaze did not make her feel uncomfortable.

"Thank you," Boromir said.

Tauriel laughed. It bubbled up from her, easy and light. She had not laughed for a long time, she realized. Not really. "No," she said. "Thank you."


Wrapping her cloak tighter around her body, Tauriel shivered. They were drawing very close to the Pass, and the air was cool enough to make her feel slightly chilled. Behind her, swords clashed as Aragorn and Boromir engaged each other. Legolas and Gimli watched, offering advice and occasionally urging them on. The constant sound was beginning to grate on her ears.

Her relationship with the members of the Fellowship was slowly changing and developing. Gimli, Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry had all accepted her fully. Legolas had finally begun to trust her. Aragorn remained mostly silent, but something told her that he too was tolerating her presence. Gandalf seemed grateful towards her, for some unknown reason.

But Boromir had become one of her closest friends. Strong and silent, she found herself relying more and more on him and his sound advice.

I trust him, she admitted to herself. Perhaps even more than I trusted – trust Legolas.

"Seena," someone called. Tauriel blinked, not yet accustomed to the name.

"What?" she asked, turning.

Legolas stood barely a foot from her. She jumped and began to swear, then caught herself. Most elves did not curse. Legolas had told her once that he knew very few who did. Shaking herself, she dropped her hood and met his gaze.

"What?" Tauriel repeated.

"Do you carry weapons on you at all times?" Legolas asked. His eyes were a silvery blue, and they were distracting her.

She nodded. "Aye. My daggers, a sword, and of course a bow and quiver."

He arched a brow. "You enjoy archery?" It seemed more than a simple question.

Tauriel hesitated. "Yes," she finally said. "When I was younger, I tended to avoid it. I have since changed my opinion." True, she thought.

He seemed curious. "I had a friend who so despised archery that she would go to great lengths avoiding it. Give her a set of daggers, and she could best all but the elite. Strangely enough, she was highly skilled with a bow as well. She just never implemented or practiced it"

"You had a friend." She had noticed that he spoke in the past tense, and curiosity got the best of her.

"Yes," he confirmed. "She was beautiful, wonderful; always laughing, always ready to listen when it was needed. I loved her. I would have given anything for her." His voice was wistful, tinged with regret. He sighed. "But then she started to change. My father gave her too much to carry, and she was not strong enough to hold the burden. She was eventually banished. I believe her to be dead." The last word was spoken harshly, definite and cold as stone.

A ball of nausea was growing in Tauriel's stomach. "What was her name?" she asked quietly, almost pleadingly.

He looked directly at her, trust glowing warm in his eyes. "Her name," Legolas said, "was Tauriel."

Her world shattered.


On the bright side, at least it was a nice long chapter. :p Anyways, it might be a while before the next one is up. I am taking a short break from writing, but since I have already written the next twenty chapters all I have to do is edit them. As soon as it is finished, I promise that the chapter will be up. ;)

Thanks again, y'all!

Reviews are love!