Disclaimer: Rights to Lord Of The Rings doesn't belong to me and never will.

'We are drawn to each other

Like drops of water, like the planets

We repulse each other

Like magnets, like the colors of our skin'

~Tite Kubo

The snow crunched beneath Rem's feet as she walked gamely on. Memories, like bubbles darting toward the surface, were coming back to her. The longer she was in this strange place…the clearer they became. She could recall words, spoken with her father's voice. Many of them had been Tolkien's. But the cadence of them held such a familiarity that it no longer mattered. Especially now that she was living within the heart of them.

Rem had all but repressed the thought of them for years. In the time it had taken for her father to turn into the shadow she came to regard him as, she had tried locking them all away. She had even gone several steps further. She sold her stupid books as soon as she had been able; recalled the burning warmth of three quarters in her palm as she handed the poisonous literature away in exchange to a little boy at the garage sale. She could even remember the disappointment in her mother's eyes that day, and her cajoling voice later on.

"He's your father, Rem…you shouldn't shut him out." She winced, pretending it had to do with the freezing wind swirling around her. Better to pretend it was in reaction to where she was rather than where her mind had been. No, stop thinking about this…She bit her lip, struggling through the deeper drifts. Any way, her mother had been wrong, she thought warily. She had every right to shut him out. Because he had shut them out…

She started moving again, hardly aware that she had even paused. Rem stumbled slightly as she managed to find a rock hidden beneath the wet, packed snow. A full month had passed since her entry to this land, and she was starting to numb herself to the concept that this…this could end up being her home. The feeling of surrealism had since peeled away, leaving her feeling exposed to the elements. Her circumstances had changed, as well as her reality. Now, she felt lost. She had no real idea what to do with herself, here. Other than try to stay alive, of course. She had no real purpose among this entourage…and she could only hope that her presence alone didn't derail it from its intended course.

Her home, her life, felt like a far off dream she had since woken from. Little luxuries, things she had taken for granted, seemed as though they had been too good to be true. I miss indoor plumbing. She thought glumly. If there was one piece of technology she was loath to part with, it was definitely that. If she ever saw a porcelain throne again, she'd probably kiss it. Admittedly after disinfecting it properly.

The comfort of relieving oneself indoors, having hot water readily available, was dearly missed. As was toilet paper. The butt-wiping tissue was actually high on the list of things she intended to hoard should she ever manage to return. While she was stuck here for the time being, a small part of her secretly hoped that all was not lost; that one day she could go back to her own world. Even if it took months. Though it would be more logical to assume it may take years. The One Ring had been found, and plunged this already archaic and technologically backward world into a frenzy of activity on both sides. Soon the chaos of war would erupt and reign in its stead, and she would just have to keep her head down until it was seen until the end. Though she'd certainly be a sight to see if and when she actually made it back. Her level of hygiene was nowhere near satisfaction. She now saw that she had been fairly sheltered and taken much for granted back home.

As it stood, Rem had only been able to bathe a handful of times. It had been no picnic, either. When there was water available, it was really cold, and not deep enough for her tastes. Her comrades seemed to think her habit of bathing in every minor body of water the Fellowship came across frivolous. She couldn't care less. Lately, she had even resorted to using snow. Granted, the latter was used for minor things like washing her face or superficially scrubbing her hair. But she stubbornly refused to trek all the way to Mordor smelling like an Orc.

Being clean was even worth being chaperoned while she did it. It had been humiliating at first, like her experience of being 'guarded' while with Gimli's kin upon first arriving in Middle Earth. But over time she got used to it. Funnily enough, the Dwarf himself would often stand guard. She actually preferred when he did; she trusted that he would keep his back turned. It was only when Boromir took charge of that duty that she felt uneasy.

True, he was a man of considerable honor and virtue...to the rest of the known world, at least. Obviously she knew where his good intentions would eventually lead him…should this waking story actually play out like those words inked out on pages in books far away. Though Rem blamed the Ring's influence on that debacle. It seduced and weakened those with who were most susceptible. He was vulnerable and it merely took advantage; like handling a piece of glass only to be badly cut.

But…there was something a little off about him. Like he had some sort of hidden agenda with her. She just couldn't put her finger on it.

He had not touched her since her CPR mishap, and had not made to do so again. Perhaps he could feel the tightening in her shoulders from that night: tense and unwelcoming under the weight of his hands. He had even begun to study her less and less, in face of others at least. But that didn't mean she wasn't aware of his eyes now and again. It was possible that she was probably being paranoid about the whole thing. Still, it didn't keep her from breathing a secret sigh of relief whenever the Lord of Gondor did not take up the duty.

Come to think of it, she wasn't all that comfortable when the Elf had to stand guard as she bathed, either. True, he eventually stopped acting so hostile toward her in act of making sarcastic remarks whenever she asked an evidently stupid question. But he continued sending unfriendly looks her way as the weeks passed.

Apparently pinching his nose had truly been an affront. Or maybe it was because she had managed to sneak up on him. She wouldn't doubt that he had a big ego. Besides, he was over a millennia old. There were probably few who could take him by surprise. Not only that, but nudity was evidently something he was more than comfortable with. He had no qualms in turning his head over his shoulder, facing her without warning in order to urge her to finish with alacrity. Each time she had been in real danger of flashing him a glimpse of her birthday suit.

Catching an eyeful may not bother him, but it sure as hell left her feeling violated. The jerk…

Coming back to reality, she realized the falling snow was thickening, nearly obscuring her vision. Wrapping her traveling cloak about her more fiercely, she struggled forward, cursing Saruman, whom she knew was responsible for the sudden turn in the weather.

"Fucking asshole…." She muttered bitterly, unaware that Legolas had heard her in passing. Crossing back and forth, looking out with his Elvish eyes at the gathering clouds, he pretended not to hear the girl's rude cursing. He had taken it upon himself to monitor the fellowship's progress as they marched through the deepening snow. Blessed with the blood and therefore inherent skills of his people, he strode atop the frozen wasteland as lithely as a cat.

Imperceptible to anyone's notice, including Rem, he stole a quick glance at the girl. Like the others, her very being was caked with the frost that permeated the very air. She seemed a small thing, pushing her way through the snow amongst their comrades.

He had not known what to make of her at first. She was an oddity: that much was clear. Legolas, like many others, had heard the rumor that she was of another world. That she had joined their quest because she could divine their future. Something he was too bemused to readily accept. Aside from her strange attire from when she had first drawn his gaze, she did not seem altogether unworldly. Out of sorts, perhaps…especially with those wire spectacles she had initially worn, but no more than that. It was more likely she had been…encouraged…to accompany them so that Mithrandir could better keep an eye on her. It would seem she was a threat in enemy hands, if nothing else.

He had taken to studying her shortly after her arrival in Imladris: the unpredictability and informal attitude in her behavior piquing his inquisitive nature. It was one of the reasons he had easily relented to Boromir's insistence in teaching combat to the girl. She was nothing special, from what he could tell. She was voluptuous, and perhaps fair by the standards of her race. But in the centuries past he had seen fairer, and far lovelier beings than she. Not that he was making judgments based by appearances. Old as he was, he was not fool enough to do so.

And yet, young as he was by the measure of his own race, he was sometimes more impulsive than was best. Such as when he unveiled his friend's identity at the Council, much to Aragorn's chagrin; such as now, as he had not desisted in rashly noting the girl's every move. He forgave himself the latter, however, in light that he did not yet know her intentions. This frustrated him. He had not yet mastered discipline of such emotions. When they presented themselves: quickening within his blood, they filled up his entire being.

He hated such a loss of control. It aided him very little: when the iron bands he tried to keep on his normally passionate nature were loosened in the same way as could be found in mortals. It caused him to continue being treated as a youngling amongst his people, when he sought to prove himself time and again that he was more. And this girl…this strange young woman, seemed to encourage mercurial behavior. He could even sense how she both thwarted and drew others among the Fellowship to her…especially Boromir. Like moths to a flame…Not that she was a guiding light, or even a true temptation by his perception. She was vulnerable, with a quick temper, and a smart mouth.

And then there were her large, almond shaped eyes…one could read every telling emotion that darted across those twin brown pools, or even on the rest of her face, for that matter. She was a distraction…and nothing more. It was the best that he could conclude. Yet despite that, in spite of everything, it was not reason enough for any of them not to protect her…At least until she proved unworthy of their trust.

Suddenly, something deep and echoing thundered across the mountain. Pausing at the cliff, he listened intently, his musings forgotten as he concentrated.

"There is a fell voice on the air…"

Rem froze. Ah, shit. As best she could, she scrabbled with her cape, keeping it about her as best she could before scrabbling toward the rock wall of the mountain.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" She yelled out. Yet her voice was drowned out in the rumbling, unnatural storm brewing above them. The snow was inhaling the sound of all.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf bellowed. What followed came in a whirl to Rem. One moment, Gandalf's deep voice was resonating within the snowy air, striving to penetrate the threatening clouds above, and the next…Well, it wasn't exactly pleasant.

Glacial chunks of ice and rock came raining down on top of them, and Rem felt herself being consumed by the blanket of hungry snow. Her ankle turned painfully, and the breath froze in her lungs. For a split second, she forgot how to breathe. Panic began to blossom within her breast, and she started to thrash around. Trying to worm her way upward to frozen, clean air…

She felt hands, then…grasping her arm, as if attempting to help her heave through the imprisoning element around them. Gasping, she emerged, face to face with the bellowing Dwarf.

"Are ye all right, lassie?"

"F—fine Gimli…" She nodded, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. Her right ankle was throbbing, but she gritted her teeth and tried to ignore it. She twisted her head around, trying to see if everyone else was okay. But something wasn't right…her vision…it…was it growing darker? It was then she became aware of the pain.

Not only within her ankle, which she must had sprained in the chaos of the falling cliffs. But the pain resounding throughout her temple; pounding inside her skull. Before she lost consciousness, it vaguely occurred to Rem how Gimli was shaking her, his grip on her shoulder almost painful as the velveteen darkness enveloped her in a nearly blissful caress.

Movement… She was swaying…Wait, am I on a ship…? But…that can't be right…She groggily came to, nausea flittering across her stomach. She was being pressed against something warm, cradled in someone's arms. Her eyes snapped open so fast they watered, and the shock was enough to distract her from the bitter cold. From the pounding reminder of her abused ankle.

Sharp, observant eyes glanced at her before resuming their search of the mountainous landscape. Something hot but suffused with cold—probably awareness or embarrassment— slithered across Rem's skin as she realized that none other than the Elf held her. Without thinking, she started squirming, striving to wriggle out of his grasp. However, his grip only tightened like welded steel. Her heart was thudding inside her chest as she realized he was actually pressing her closer against his clothed chest.

"What are you—?! Put me down…."he shifted her suddenly, rudely. Probably a not-so-subtle way of making her shut up. "….Please…?" Okay, that last part came out as a bit of a squeak but…by God, he smells goo—no, don't go there! Snap out of it!

"I'm okay! I swear I'm okay! Can you please put me dow—Ow !" As she had been babbling, someone reached out sans her notice and tweaked her right foot.

"Doesn't seem fine to me, lass." She glared daggers over at Gimli, who up until now she hadn't realized was striding alongside them. The Dwarf gave Legolas a meaningful look, which for the most part he seemed to return. The former returned his gloved hand to his side and thoughtfully stroked his rust-colored beard. It was no longer bedecked by snow.

"You gave us a bit of a scare, Rembrance." She peeked up at her captor, who had spoken, mildly surprised he had even initiated speech. Her heart gave a small lurch for no specific reason at the words, hopping into her throat before she swallowed it back down to its rightful place. You were…worried about me…?

Rem then became aware of two things all at once. One, she had awoken in the arms of a man—Elf—she feared to be both emotionally constipated and admittedly attractive. Secondly if he realized that he held any sort of physical appeal for her, he would doubtless drop her in horror. Shit!

"I…erm….Thanks for the ….lift, your highness." She opted for his title rather than his name, feeling it would sound too intimate. That, unfortunately, gained his unwelcome attention.

"I would prefer you did not use my title." She bristled, then with effort, smoothed down her expression as a thought occurred to her.

"I wouldn't mind the same, actually. Rembrance is too…formal. It's what my mother calls me when she's really pissed off...I mean...when she's mad or...look, just call me 'Rem'. I prefer 'Rem,'" Their eyes met for a second time, "if it's all the same to you," she blustered quickly. She didn't like being the subject of such abject focus. After weeks of his active avoidance, it was disconcerting to say the least. It made her uneasy. His reply was clipped, but neutral.

"As you wish."

Thankfully, it seemed going down the mountain took infinitely less time than it did going up it. As was ever the case, there was little conversation as they walked, the dull crunching of the snow beneath the Fellowship's feet reverberating through the chilly air. Legolas, even burdened with Rem's extra weight, did not contribute to the noise as he walked lightly over the ice. He was silent, like a predator.

She tried to remain as still as possible, still uncomfortable with the fact that he was carrying her. He showed no sign of fatigue as of yet, but it wasn't much comfort. He was probably faking. Rem was many things, but light-weight wasn't one of them. She also felt nervous being in such close proximity to someone who, at best, probably viewed her as a nuisance.

She wished to be as small as possible, not wanting to draw any attention to herself whatsoever. Every so often, Gimli would give her a reassuring nod or some sort of form of approval for swallowing her pride and allowing Legolas to help her. She idly wondered how he had convinced the prince to carry her, given that it was a bit out of character for him to ask anything of the Elf…at least not yet. She realized they would be close companions one day…just not at the moment. Experiences typically bonded others together that no amount of time could on its own.

As the snow dwindled into slush around them, and the promise of Moria drew near, Rem couldn't help her mood plummet. What in the world was she actually doing here? What was the point? No matter the reasons she had been brought along, there was actually very little she could do. Elrond and Gandalf had forbidden her from speaking of what was to happen, but that didn't quell her desire to break that promise a hundred times over…to protect those who were now protecting her.

Gimli was soon to learn of the death of his kinsmen, Gandalf would perish in defeating the Balrog…and she….she would be left in the aftermath. She had a sinking feeling that the remainder of the Fellowship would be all to glad to be rid of her once she proved how useless she really was as a seer. She wasn't even handy in a fight. Maybe it would be best that she run away as soon as she was able…Before everyone realized the truth. Before, like nearly every man she had ever known, they abandoned her of their own volition.

Unaware of her meanderings, Legolas continued on, quietly cursing his lot. When the girl slipped into unconsciousness, he hadn't even been really thinking. He simply realized that if he did not carry her, Boromir or Aragorn would. Although at the time, they had seemed too distracted in taking care of the hobbits and Bill the Pony than they were of anything immediately out of their line of vision. Understandable, given that the snow was still obscuring much in terms of vision and had not seen the state of the girl. Yet he had taken it upon himself to aid Gimli in digging her out of the snow, and wrap her within his arms.

Surprisingly, the Dwarf hadn't object; something he had been expecting, at least until Gimli had instructed him to 'mind her ankle'…meaning that the girl had injured it in some way. He didn't much want this responsibility, he in fact wanted very little to do with Rem. She made him uncomfortable and thus made him wish to be as far away from her as possible. There was a gasp at his side, bringing out of his bitter thoughts. Both he and Rem paused to take in their surroundings as Gimli choked out in awe:

"The walls….Of Moria." Rem shivered, and without meaning to, Legolas held her closer against him. Briefly…before he realized just who it was he was comforting. Pippin passed by at that moment, making noises that sounded suspiciously like kissing sounds. The Elf gave him a dirty look, before hastily placing Rem on her feet.

"Are you well enough…?" He didn't finish the question. He didn't need to. Before he could, she had begun hobbling away. He watched her, exasperated, before following after. Unbeknownst to them, Boromir smiled at the sight. It would appear that they were both….exceptionally stubborn.

A/N: Thank you's to all who reviewed! You are wonderful!