A/N: Hello one and all! Thank you for reviewing my story you guys! The song last chapter was 'The Voice' by the Celtic Woman(women?).

Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR, only my characters.

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The Fellowship stared in puzzlement as Gandalf laughed after a song that rivaled the elves in beauty. What was so funny?

"Now, that wasn't so bad was it?" He chuckled

"You always ask for such foolish favors." She replied.

He merely shook his head. "Not foolish at all. How long do you plan to linger?" He inspected the bandaging, trying to give her a hint.

"I leave with the sun; I wasn't the only injured one. That traitor will not have gotten far; I'll find them." She said.

Gandalf sighed. "Of course." He seemed to think for a moment. "How rude of me. It seems proper introductions are in order."

Lireal frowned slightly. He was evading the topic, but then again, he knew her pride was injured over the fact that the traitor got away…again.

"This is an old friend of mine; Lireal Darkhunter." He explained.

The mahogany-haired woman inclined her head to them. Her eyes roved over them as Gandalf introduced his companions. Some were already known to her, while others were newly met.

"What is the meaning of this, Gandalf? Surely this is some kind of joke! Women should not be fighting!" Boromir demanded.

That he should refuse to speak to her, and addressed the wizard irritated her to no end. She was already frustrated as it was. The man unfortunately became a new way for her to vent her anger. She reached forward grabbing his collar, and nearly lifting him off his feet. This was quite a feat, seeing as she was a couple inches shorter than the southerner.

"Are you implying that I am weak?" She growled, eyes narrowing. Her dark grey eyes flashed, filled with rage.

"Women are to tend the house! Not to-" Whatever he was going to say was cut off as she snarled at him.

"Lireal." Gandalf called softly, trying to calm his friend. "Lireal."

She ignored him.

"Come now, little dove. Let him go. Take out your anger not on innocents." He said.

The familiar old nickname caught her attention. Lireal looked to Gandalf. He shook his head, and she turned to glare at the man one last time before she let go, shoving him away. The wizard sighed. She was going to be so unruly now. Her injured pride and self-loathing was going to be overwhelming.

Pippin couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "How did the traitor become a traitor anyway?"

Silence dragged on for several minutes before. . .

"Blood traitor." She snarled, any composure now long gone. "Betrayed the blood through blood."

Gandalf sighed, knowing what was coming. Lireal stalked away, quickly fading into the shadows beyond the firelight. "Where are you going?" He called after her retreating figure.

"Clearly I am welcome here no longer. I will seek shelter elsewhere. It was good to see you again, my old friend. Do not summon me except at the end of need." Was her reply.

She settled down high in the branches of a tree, perfectly comfortable in her perch. Lireal planned to rest for a day, then catch back up to where she could follow them closely, waiting for her next opportunity to destroy her traitorous sister.

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After her last words had faded into the night, the Fellowship turned to Gandalf, only to find him muttering under his breath.

"Foolish child." At first they thought he was speaking to Boromir, but then: "Do you not see what you are doing to yourself? The longer you cling to despair and grief, the deeper into shadow you fall. To take guilt upon yourself where there is none; to lay all the blame on innocent shoulders; to refuse the aid offered to you; what are you becoming? You are doing exactly as your enemy desires. Can you not see? Our deepest wish is to see you become yourself again."

"Gandalf?" Frodo called out softly.

"Hmm?" The wizard answered.

"Who is she?" He asked wonderingly.

The old man glanced up with a sad smile. "She is Lireal; what else is there to it? So grim even as a child; always has she dressed as a man, with a sword in both hands. Raised to be proud, but not arrogant or cruel; to know every fiber of her own being, with no room left for doubt."

"Surely everyone must doubt themselves sometime." Sam commented.

The wizard chuckled softly. "Yes. But until the traitor betrayed us, she had no cause to doubt her own strength."

"What happened?" Merry inquired.

"We were betrayed; there is nothing more to it than that." He responded.

Boromir shifted. "What did she mean when she said 'blood' traitor?"

The old man looked sad. "That one committed the worst crime imaginable; betraying one's own blood, through blood. All because their desire for power, and a fear of what she might become."

"Still, I don't understand this 'betraying blood through blood', Gandalf." Frodo said.

"The concept is simple enough; betraying your own blood, your own kin, through blood." The wizard explained.

And suddenly, they understood. Their eyes widened in horror.

"Gandalf, you don't mean…" Merry's voice trailed off.

With a sigh, he sat back down. "Yes. I am afraid that is what happened. Lireal by some miracle survived, though her wounds were grievous. But I fear it is no physical wound that will bring her to her end; it is the wound caused by that betrayal, and what that entails. She has deluded herself into believing what happened that day was her own fault. She was away, you see, and when she returned, the attack had only just begun; she did all she could to save them, but it was not enough. She believes that if she was stronger, faster, that none of this would have happened."

"But it's not her fault. If anyone's, it's the traitors, isn't it, Gandalf?" Sam mumbled.

"Yes. But she cannot see that; yet that is the reason she hunts the traitor so avidly. The only reason she stays near to us is because she suspects that the traitor will make an attempt for the Ring, and clearly she has been proven right. However, as long as Lireal is about, I doubt the traitor will get within a league of us." The wizard sighed again.

The elf stared hard into the shadows where the woman had disappeared. "Why did the traitor betray them? Is that what has made her so cruel?" He was referring, of course, to the incident with the arrows.

Gandalf's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Cruel? Ah, that." He chuckled. "That was a game that she and another used to play long ago; though it was hardly fair for her to spring it upon you." He paused, thinking. "As for why we were betrayed, I think it is fear that lead to this mess; the traitor feared Lireal's power, feared who she might become if left unhindered, untainted. That combined with unwavering ambition."

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Frodo asked.

Gandalf heaved yet another sigh. "No. At least, not in this moment. She needs her space to clear her head. The traitor's escape injured her pride, as did Boromir's, and my own, comment about her being weak."

Quietly, the Fellowship went to their rest. Each of them was left wondering about this strange person who seemed to be both a friend and an enemy.