I'm so sorry, everyone! Time got away on me – I spent much of the last week making things for a market this weekend just passed. Last week I watched The Hobbit premiere coverage – I live in NZ, but not in Wellington, where it was – needless to say if I did live there, I would have been out in force with the other fans having a terrific time. But the coverage was awesome; and I baked lembas bread to celebrate. A lovely day all round. And now it's under a week until the midnight screenings!

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooo

Early morning slowly illuminated the elven valley, causing the ornate architecture of Rivendell to shine and glow as the light caressed it. Soft shadows covered paths where the sunlight of the new day hit thin leaves, bathing much of the haven in a faint green light, contrasted to the blue of the sky above. The day was promising to be a fine one, warm of sun and gentle of wind, but even that relaxing warmth could not bring joy to all those it touched; not now a new shadow hung over their hearts.

The slowly growing light came upon a quiet secluded garden in the lower regions of Rivendell. It was a semi-private place, where the sweetness of the flowering trees could be tasted in the air, and the sound of clear water was melodious. Within it, a meeting was taking place. To an onlooker, ignorant of the deeds of the past, the group appeared somewhat mismatched – four halflings in grey cloaks, the material thrown back over their shoulders in the soft light; a staunch dwarf, his beard partially braded, with one hand atop an axe; a golden-haired and lithe elf, standing gracefully against the edge of a small pavilion; a man of noble bearing, who stood with one hand leisurely upon his sword hilt; and an elderly, bearded figure leaning slightly on his staff, whose white robes seemed to glow. The survivors of the original Fellowship of the Ring.

To all appearances, it seemed as if they had met to enjoy the day ahead – this group of companions, each of whom played a major role in the War of the Ring and the saving of Middle Earth. They had been through much together, and knew one another well; thus it was not strange to most to see them together. Yet even though the sun shone brightly and warmed the faces of the eight, their hearts were heavy and dark with the grief of parting, and the gentle laughter of the stream did not calm their fears as much as they would have liked.

Long ago, or so it seemed now, when they had first set out from Rivendell together, they had almost all be strangers to one degree or another, thrown together on a great errand of secrecy. Companionable feeling had not come quickly, save among those it was already established for: indeed for some – especially those who disliked each other prior to the Fellowship's formation – the lessening of suspicion had to take place before anything akin to friendship could begin. Thus it was only though fate, a common enemy, and trying circumstances did they grow close and learn about one another. Now they were nigh inseparable, their friendship crossing bounds of age, race and geography.

Aragorn's finger tapped softly against his sword. "My friends. Even though we gather in a place of such life, such light, my heart is heavy. My words I give with the sorrow that this could be our final meeting - for in a few mere hours, we travel our separate ways…for what could be the last time." Aragorn's gaze moved to the ground as he paused. "Our trials and hardships are not over yet; though we thought we saw their end. This time we must again walk willingly into war, towards an end we cannot foresee. I am to take my leave, along with King Eomer and Prince Imrahil. I go back to Gondor to gather my forces – what forces I have after the War. Gandalf comes with me as my most trusted advisor, for which I am thankful for."

"And I," started Legolas, "go with my father back to Mirkwood. Gimli accompanies us, along with King Thorin, until we halt at our destination, and they continue onwards to Erebor." His elven features were graceful, but grim. "All will stand before this shadow."

Gimli shifted, his hand still atop his axe. "We that leave will not meet again until the time of battle, in one month." His gaze fell upon the four halflings before him. "You, however…"

"We step far afield, " Merry said quietly. "I cannot help but think this could be farewell for the last time – for all of us, in one place."

"A fair consideration," Aragorn replied solemnly. "We cannot know our end, or what might await us. All we can do is do what we can with the time that is given to us."

Frodo smiled slightly, recognising Gandalf's advice within Aragorn's words. "If, under this shadow, I can be thankful for anything, it is that in facing this new danger, we have the chance to say farewell properly, voice our goodbyes – so if, Eru forbid, we are to meet our ends, then at least we have spoken a proper farewell to those who we care for greatly, even as they fight as we do." He shrugged, slightly guiltily. "Unlike the before, when that chance was taken from us. So I would also use this moment to thank all of you."

"Why?" asked Legolas, not unkindly.

"At the last Council of Elrond, you each made the decision to accompany me. You left the relative security of your own homes and lands, to help me. Events happening as they did, I consider each and every one of you my family. We have all been through so much, done so much, stood by one another. So although I am thankful you all chose to accompany me, I am also aware it was your involvement there that had lead to your involvement once again, and I at its centre." He paused. "Therefore it is a solemn feeling that this could be the last time we are all together in this world."

"We were all mighty lucky last time," Sam said quietly. "And now…" He shook his head, searching for the right words.

"And the luck might run out?" Legolas offered. Sam nodded up at the elf. Legolas smiled a little. "The same thought has crossed my mind. We might have to cheat fate a second time."

The soft sound of footsteps reached their ears. Legolas turned to see his father coming towards them, wearing his riding cloak, which moved like water as he walked. Thranduil inclined his head respectfully in greeting – as tall and imposing as he seemed, his gaze was kind as it swept the group. "Legolas, my dear son; we must away. Master Gimli, King Thorin also requires your presence at the main courtyard."

"We are coming, Father." Thranduil smiled at Legolas before returning almost as silently as he had arrived, giving his son a last moment of privacy with his gathered friends.

"So now it is farewell. Sire, Gandalf – I will meet you on the field of battle. Gimli – we need not say our goodbyes until we part in Mirkwood. However…" here Legolas turned to the hobbits, and knelt down gracefully as to be at eye level with them. "My dear friends. It is with a heavy heart I leave, not knowing if I will ever see you again. But no matter the outcome of this battle, we will meet again when we are all not of this world any longer."

"Aim true, Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm," said Frodo, feeling tears threatening to begin. "May the Powers protect you in battle."

Legolas smiled. "Take care of one another, and may Elbereth light your way." He embraced the four of them in turn, before standing to embrace Aragorn and Gandalf.

Gimli considered the four hobbits for a moment before speaking. "So, young Masters, we part in each others company, by our own will and reasons. This I say to you all – take care, be careful, and remember we all are fighting alongside one another, in different ways." He looked at each of them in turn, his expression sad. "Goodbye, my Halfling friends. Until we meet again, be it after this is over; to mourn or to rejoice, or after this life has ended and we are together again."

"May the blade on your axe never dull," Pippin said, his voice thick with emotion.

Gimli nodded. "I will sharpen it on orc-necks." He turned to the others. "To you, Sire and Wizard, I say until we meet on the battle field, in one month's time." Like Legolas, Gimli embraced each of them in turn.

Together the Fellowship walked back along the stone paths towards the central courtyard of Rivendell. There they found horses had been prepared for the four travellers, and the two kings, of elves and dwarves respectively, awaited them. Gimli and Legolas mounted their own horses, both casting one last longing glace around the haven they were to leave. Little was said aloud at their leaving. Thoughts and feelings, hard to express, were more conveyed in eye contact and facial expression than put into words and said.

It was approaching early afternoon by the time the four rode out of Rivendell's gate. They turned the horses and rode up the path out of the valley, disappearing from sight at the top of the dale. Legolas turned his horse and gave one private final farewell and blessing to those at Rivendell, before riding away East to the Misty Mountains. He knew his heart would forever be there, with those he left behind, and he whispered a prayer that they would all be protected in light of the upcoming storm.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooo

After a light midday meal, Gandalf found Aragorn leaning on one of Rivendell's many balconies, looking silently down at the garden below. There Gandalf could see four easily recognisable figures, sitting together on the grass, the sparse remains of their midday meal before them. Gandalf couldn't hear what was being said, but it was clear the four hobbits were taking the time to enjoy each other's company. Occasionally a laugh drifted up to where he and Aragorn watched.

"Sire?"

Aragorn didn't turn. "Why must it be them, my friend? Haven't they suffered enough, to now fear again for their lives and the life of one we all love as a brother?"

Gandalf came forward to stand beside his kingly friend. Aragorn's face was solemn, his eyes sad. Gandalf placed a hand upon his shoulder. "We could not have foreseen this. If not for your sharp eyes we would not have sought out more information, and we would all be unprepared – them most of all."

"I saw them all fall, Gandalf. I had to call them all back to this world. Merry's arm was cold as ice after he fought the Witch King. If he had not guided his blade as he did, Lady Eowyn would have been lost, and many more besides. When I tended to him after the Pelennor Fields, his mind was lost in shadow. I called him back and set him on the road to recovery."

Gandalf remained silent, aware this had been playing on Aragorn's mind. The King of Gondor sighed, one had balling into a fist on the stone balustrade. "When Pippin was found, crushed beneath the troll he slew, I thought him lost already. His body was badly bruised, and his mind sure of his fate – Pippin told me himself he was sure of his demise as he fell. But I called him back, too, tended his bruises and fractures, and he recovered."

Gandalf could guess at what was coming next, and tightened his hand on the king's shoulder. Aragorn exhaled sharply. "Sam and Frodo…we all thought them lost to us. When I saw them, I thought there was no hope, and that we had found them too late. Sam's body, ravaged by starvation and dehydration, was a sight that hurt me. The gash on his head required careful cleaning, and though his body seemed empty his spirit was strong…it took little to coax him back, though I feared I would not be able to call him at all."

He fell silent, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet. "Frodo…Frodo's body shocked me, Gandalf. The toll the journey had taken on him, with little food and water; the evidence of his brutal beating in the Tower – you saw the fine pattern of whip-marks across his back – and the mark of the chain around his neck! The bite of that creature, that thing. His maimed hand…I was thankful for his unconsciousness while we cleaned and bound it. The pain it would have caused would have been unbearable. But his mind…I know you sensed it, old friend. How far from us his sprit had fled, its strength sapped." Aragorn shook his head. "It was the hardest healing I have ever undertaken. I thought that he would never return to us."

"But he did, Sire. Not whole, and never to return to his former self, but he came back."

"His mind, Gandalf. His mind was deep in shadow and despair. Many times I thought he would just slip away from us all, regardless of my efforts. I doubt he wanted to return, thinking he did not deserve it. I wept to see him so hurt, Gandalf, to see what suffering the Ring had caused him. When it was finally over, and he came back to us, I talked long with him. I tried to help him, but he told me often that he was beyond help, and knew he was lost to the world of the living. I know he believed that of himself for some time."

Gandalf considered the figures in the garden below him. Pippin was currently holding court, telling a story with wild gestures, as the others listened. Frodo was in the shade of a tree, watching his cousin with a smile on his face – but Gandalf could tell his eyes were sad. It pained Gandalf to see the change in his friend, and know the cause of it, and know that now Frodo had almost as much responsibility placed upon him once more. Would he change moreso before the end of this, pulling himself further from a world he thought he did not deserve to be a part of?

Gandalf sighed and turned to look at Aragorn, who evenly met his gaze. "I know it pains you, Sire, to see him burdened again. You fear – as do I – what ordeals he might have to undertake before the end. But I also know you can see the light shining from him; even when he himself cannot. Oh, he is wounded, and exhausted, there can be no doubt. His ordeal has left him broken – but also left him stronger. Though he cannot – and, I fear, will not – see it, for his love and view of himself was most injured after the Quest and his actions at the Crack of Doom, his soul shines out - he will never bow to a dark power again. He will never let himself fall as low as he did, or come as close to despair. But I fear he will never realise this strength until it is tested."

Gandalf paused to consider the dark-haired hobbit. "Like a bone broken, and when it knits is made stronger, even without the realisation of the injured. Frodo will not let himself be tormented again, by any darkness. His guilt over his actions, his fear of what he almost became, and his love for those who surround him strengthened his already astonishing will power. Though as you heard at the council, he does not believe such things of himself. But you can see it, I know. As can I."

Aragorn nodded, but Gandalf could see his eyes were distant, still consumed with thoughts of his friends. "Sire, by all means, let your blessing and thoughts follow their journey. But do not fear for them – you guided their return and so have seen their bonds strengthened, their confidence and resolve renewed. They are not the four hobbits we set off with."

"No," Aragorn agreed, the ghost of a smile gracing his features. "They are all so much more than that." He straightened. "Come, let us fetch them."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooo

First time I've had to split a chapter due to word count getting a bit high. That's a good thing, right? It might mean the next chapter is a bit shorter than usual, as it's the rest of what was going to be in this one, and I don't know how many words it will take. Guess I'll just have to go ahead with it and see!

As always, reviews make my day.