Author's Note: Oh gosh...it's been so long. I got so behind on this chapter and wanted to make it nearly or as long as my first couple of chapters, and just got a massive case of writer's block. Had to delete, like, half of the chapter and rewrite it because it was just bad. Writer's block...*shudder*. Anyway, I want to start to do shout-outs in this section of the chapter, and so I will start with this chapter. I don't, after all, want to make reviewers feel like they are being ignored. I think I'll usually refer to reviews from the chapter before, but I'm going to refer to all who have reviewed this time. Here we go... :)

Theta-McBride: Thanks for sticking with the whole story, and glad to know that you like my story.

Fann: Thank you for all of the suggestions! I'm glad I'm not the only one on FanFiction who thinks that a sudden jump into romance with Legolas is somewhat absurd in terms of reality... So you say that you have a suggestion for Boromir not dying? Hmm...*strokes chin thoughtfully* ;)

darkness: Thanks for reviewing and encouraging me to write more!

lotrjessusfreak: Thank you for commenting on the "legomance", as you put it! Glad to know my bad romance-writing-skills come across the way I want them to!

EGilly: I didn't know what Legolas would do, either! Ahahah.

RescueAngel: I kept them coming, all right! Hope they were good!

AmSaja: It's awesome that you think of my story as "different" and "refreshing"! Now I just have to make it even more so!

SummerAngelz: I love "Mr. Anderson" inside jokes as well! I can't resist, much like Alex, saying "Mr. Anderson" after everything Hugo Weaving, just in general, says. Sounds like a good cookie joke!

Marine76: I saw your review and felt bad about not updating, so I jumped over my Writer's Block and cut it in half!

WOW. Thanks to everyone for reviewing, multiple times for some of you! You are all just so awesome, you have no idea! Enjoy the chapter! :)

Reviews are the reason for many hours of my happiness. Has my writing earned such joy?


Chapter 7: It's All Talk

I had expected to see Varda, the Queen of the Valar, and judging from all of the Mary Sue FanFics I had ever read, she would be telling me about how I was a central figure to the Quest and how Legolas and I or whatever were destined for each other.

Nah. It was an elven maiden, and outside of the forest, rain fell and humidity caused a mist that took in the colors of the tree bark.

"Do you wish to have a meal with your friends?" the elleth asked, curtsying.

I curtsied back and nodded, thanking her as she led me to the rest of the Fellowship to eat.

I was the last one there, (go figure for awkwardness) and took the remaining seat between Merry and Boromir. The food came, and I picked at it, disheartened, realizing that the only reason I was shoved into Middle-Earth was for symbolism. Was I in a FanFic or something?

At least I wasn't a Sue.

Boromir noticed my dejected meat, cheese, and dressing-less salad and asked quietly, "Is something the matter? Your appetite is not as...full...as it usually is. Is there something bothering you?"

I stared at him, slightly raising an eyebrow, before shaking my head and mumbling about how I wasn't all that hungry. I made an effort to finish my lettuce and tomato arrangement for the sake of health, and excused myself quickly when Aragorn started to talk about what would happen once we left Lothlórien.

I climbed up a rope ladder into a talan, and looked down despite my fear of heights. The forest floor looked like a smooth velvet carpet from where I was, and I was reminded of my soft stuffed sheep at home. Marvin and Buster and Dinner...yes, I had named a stuffed lamb named Dinner. What of it?

...Home. Sitting there up in the trees so beautiful, and yet so foreign, I finally had calm and peace and a moment to myself. It was something I had wanted since starting a journey with nine smelly men, but now didn't want alone time at all, for I started to feel homesick.

I was before too busy to be homesick, too frightened for my life or immersed in my thoughts, but now, staring at strange golden leaves, I thought of the childhood treehouse I frequently visited when visiting my parents. I thought of just watching the Lord of the Rings movies and not being forced into them. I thought of my little brother, still in high school, a junior in Marching Band with a sax, just like me, and yet so different. Cool and calm and not a nerd. Athletic, could fence...should've been a Gary-Stu right there, right then.

Most of all, I thought of my cool friends, my happy-go-lucky parents, and my caring boyfriend.

Would I ever see them again? Who knew? Was anyone even aware that I was here?

My stream of thought was interrupted by a swishing of the rope ladder as someone climbed up it. I felt tears on my cheeks and wiped them away quickly before Boromir's head popped through the hole in the platform. He pulled himself up and sat down in front of me.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything."

"No, no. Why would you be interrupting? I am here alone, as you can see," I said, motioning to the empty space around me, which then felt more claustrophobic than the Mines. My loneliness and introvertedness were made ever more apparent.

"I just wanted to mention, that even though you were untruthful, that does not mean the Company's trust is completely out of reach. I am sure that we will trust you again before long," Boromir said, his voice firm, but his voice staying grim. I noticed how he said "we". Encouraging, Boromir, great pep-talk.

Even as I thought my sardonic words, I looked closely at his face and saw a man who was being tempted by that accursed Ring even as he sat and spoke. It was wreaking havoc on his mind. He had not joked around with Merry and Pippin lately, he rarely smiled, and his eyes hid secrets from the world outside of his deepest and innermost thoughts.

"Enough about what troubles me. Boromir, what is on your mind? You can tell me. Remember, I know everything that will happen. Do not fear I shall think badly of you."

The stubborn and proud Man of Gondor sat there silently, though his mind was not passive. I could almost see the gears in his brain turning. To trust someone from a strange land? Or not?

After a moment of consideration that seemed like forever to me, he spoke. "When she," a significant pause gave me time to realize he was talking about Galadriel, "looked into my eyes, she spoke of how Gondor was in grave danger should the Quest be unsuccessful. My mind was all too ready to believe her. Before, I and my honor would never have given in to the mere words of an elf."

So. The Ring was already weakening and corrupting Boromir's strong mind to a Ring-wanting mush of grey matter. And that grey matter would believe anything. Time to make it believe in hope.

"Do not worry. The Quest shall succeed."

"Do you know this for sure, or are you merely trying to encourage me to stay spirited for the journey ahead?"

"To know is to be sure, but to be sure is not to know, and I do think I am sure," I thought of what Gandalf would say in situations like these, and kind of failed at the Gandalf-emanating. Maybe it was the pipe weed? I would ask a hobbit for some later. I needed mellowing urgently, anyway.

"I think I understand." Good for you, dude. Because I had no idea what I said.

"Is the wood not beautiful?" I asked Boromir after an interlude of silence betwixt us.

"It is. Though, in my eyes, the greatest beauty is of my city, with tall white towers and walls before a tall cliff. I, only personally, though, think this. The Woods of Lórien are quite a site to behold. Its beauty, not just itself, is magical." Yet a glint of longing for his city was in the Man of Gondor's eyes.

"You miss your home." My statement neither a question nor an assumption; it was just that, a statement.

"Yes; however, I think everyone feels so," Boromir said, "and you should feel so most of all, yes?"

I stared at Boromir in agreement, and nodded. "Probably. Unlike any of you, I do not know how to get home, and it is a long way away. An immeasurable distance sits between my home and me."

The dusty-brown-haired man put a hand on my shoulder in comfort as I sighed from the gloomy prospect.

"At least you are with friends."

Hah.

I smiled at the Man before a quiet fell again. It was not a tense silence, but rather a relaxing lull as the light of the forest turned from the soft golden-pink of the sunset to a deep blue lit by elven lights and lanterns.

Time passed slowly in the silence. After what seemed like hours but was in actuality, as I found out later, half of one, I bid Boromir a good night and he bid the same to me as he climbed down to the ground to go off about his business.

I pulled out and opened the book that Galadriel had given me earlier, that I had been holding discreetly, hiding the cover from the rest of the Fellowship.

The author's name was not written on any page, but it seemed like there was no room anyway. The writing was small and crammed onto the pages, neat yet barely legible due to its tiny size.

I turned to the first page after flipping through the tome rapidly. It seemed to be a history, not just a how-to guide, on magic.

The history was all the stuff I had already read before, on Earth, so I flipped to the more mysterious workings of magic.

It started with how to summon the magic from the object holding it. I squinted at the text before skipping several pages altogether, having done the summoning stuff already.

The next section branched off into countless chapters and subjects. I skipped ahead to the section about ring magic, barely straining to see the small font in the lanterns lit well the area about them and beyond. My elven eyes also did not hurt with reading in the dim light.

The sub-section said:

When dealing with rings of knowledge, it is important to not strain your thought when using the ring. Only do feats that you can imagine with the amount of wisdom and knowledge you have. Learning and heightening the depth of your mind shall make the ring more powerful.

All stuff I knew.

Rings of knowledge were often used as translators when races who negotiated could not speak each other's tongues.

No wonder I could understand Westron.

They are now rarer. Not many are known to exist, and are extremely protected by their owners, often elves, who of all the races, have the most time to learn and become more knowledgeable.

Hmmph. Another reason to be turned into an elf.

My reading was interrupted by a messy-haired and rough-faced head poking through the talan.

"Merilieth," began Aragorn, "or Alex, or whichever you prefer, we are talking as a Fellowship. Come."

I nodded and hid my book between me and the rope ladder when I climbed down and held it behind my back when I walked to the rest of our Company with Aragorn.

He looked at it curiously, but my hands shifted to hide the cover. He didn't notice the bump in my glove on my right hand.


"We, sadly, must leave soon. Our stay in Lothlórien cannot be drawn out any longer."

"Yes Aragorn, but where does our path lead? East or West?"

The Ranger paused at Legolas' question.

We had gathered to talk about where to go after we ended our rest in the Enchanted Wood. All were sad to leave, even, surprisingly, Gimli.

"We should travel on the great river Anduin. That way we would not have to decide on our final path until later." I could see Aragorn hating being a leader; he wasn't used to it. Tough luck kiddo; you're going to lead Gondor, not just eight mismatched schmucks.

"We would need to choose before the Falls of the Rauros. It would be several days until then, however," Boromir chimed in helpfully. I nodded in agreement, trying not to think about the manner in which we would leave the Falls, though Boromir never would. Dark thoughts crept into my mind and I pulled off my glove under the table and fiddled with my ring.

I took it off for closer examination, keeping preoccupied, when suddenly the English speech around me turned into a gruff language I did not understand. What happened to being able to understand the Common Tongue?

I remembered the book of magic talking about how the ring I beared could be used for translation. I shoved the mithril band back on my finger and everything became clear and English again. Thank goodness.

I made a mental note not to take it off again as I put my glove back on.

"Do you agree, Merilieth? Should we travel on the Anduin during the next leg of our journey?" Aragorn's question took me by surprise. I looked up and nodded absentmindedly, since that was what we were going to do anyway in the written and movie versions of Tolkien's tale.

"Good. It is agreed, then. We leave in just under a week. Make preparations and say farewell to peace and quiet, for I suspect it shall be a long time before we should have that yet again in our journey, if ever. From now on, our path shall grow ever darker as we near Mordor." Aragorn's grim words set a matching mood in the open and free air. He was right, more than he knew.


The next several days I spent with Boromir, listening to the stories of his city. Whenever he talked about Minas Tirith and Gondor, a wistful look came upon his face and his eyes would glaze as his voice gave a proud tone to his words, words that spoke of his kin and his friends.

The more time I was with Boromir and his tales, the more I thought of how wrong I was in my character analysis of him back home on Earth. He had seemed like he had something to prove, but now, he didn't just talk about his own accomplishments, he talked about his brother and his friends, Guards of the Citadel, warriors, men who were always by Boromir's side on the battlefield and at home.

We grew closer and closer as he confided more personal stories to me, things that he never would've to any others of the Company. Our time together had deepened the bonds of trust between us. I hoped that our friendship would not change him taking the Ring. One day, he even told me about a girl he had met as a teenager. It was uncharacteristic of him, and it was the moment I decided to stop being such a Mary Sue. I was changing Boromir's entire personality to confide in me, who had been for so long lying to him about everything. Oops.

"Her name was Gwenyth. She had a rather homely face and short cut hair, and her figure was not extremely special. She was neither rich nor poor, but average in every way." I looked at Boromir, surprised at his sudden personal openness. "She listened to me when I was but a lad and we were great friends, and I think I did love her. However, my father made me a captain of Gondor's forces not long after we had spent a while together almost every day, and I did not see her as much. She remains unwed."

"Does she wait for you?" I asked, gossipy urges surfacing like bubbles in the ocean. I tried to pop them before they turned me into a full-out Valley Girl.

"I do not know. Ten years passed before I left for the Council in Rivendell. We barely saw each other due to continued attacks from Mordor."

I nodded.

We walked in the wood while we talked, the leaves and soil soft under our feet. Even Boromir made no sound with his heavy and booted feet on the tender and dry path.

We came upon the pavilion where all of us slept during nights. All were preparing for our journey upon the Anduin. Earlier, Celeborn and Galadriel had supplied us with boats, and had given us the day to prepare, for if we stayed longer, we would not have had the heart to leave the fair trees of Lothlórien. I already didn't have the heart to leave, but one look at Frodo reminded me that the hardship I would likely go through would be nothing compared to his. After all, this was his journey, and not the journey of a girl inserted into Middle-Earth by some cruel, bad writer from America. I was just along for the ride.

Legolas and Gimli came into the pavilion as I packed my light amount of supplies. I had returned the magic book and only had Merilieth's journal, my phone, and the Return of the King. I hid all three under lembas bread Galadriel had given us, a cram-like substance that would sustain a man for a day on only a piece, and sweet and long-lasting. All-natural, too. Man, would this be great for dieters back home!

Gimli walked by with his elven companion and I smiled at the two of them. They had unwittingly become great friends in Lórien, and all in the Fellowship were not only glad to see it, but relieved. Their quarrels had been quite troublesome, not to mention annoying, on the road.

"Gimli, I should have thought you happy to leave these elven woods. Why so grim? Surely you have not come to like a dwelling of elves?" Gimli snorted.

"No, lass, I do not want to leave Lothlórien. It is fair and peaceful here, and the weariness of my heart seems to have gone away. But its beauty is nothing as to the beauty of the Lady." I stared at him, dumbfounded by his confession. The hobbits nearby chortled, and Pippin had to take a couple of moments to regain his composure. Before that, though, he had stared, slack-jawed, at the dwarf in utter shock.

"Pippin, if you do not close your mouth, you shall catch flies!" Merry exclaimed merrily. "If you are so hungry as to eat flies, I think the elves would not begrudge you a meal." Hobbits and their teasing were so adorable. I stood up and made it seem as if I were busy with my pack and adjusting items, but kept an ear on the ironic conversation.

"Flies? I am human. Spiders eat flies, Merry." Pippin blushed and tried to hide it with jesting words.

"In the forests of Mirkwood, there are giant spiders who eat whatever flesh they get their pincers on. Be wary of spiders, Pippin." Legolas said as a slight warning of danger to the hobbit, and meant it. His eyes were serious.

"Oh, no, Mister Legolas, please don't remind us here in this nice place about giant spiders. Just the little ones are mighty horrible. Though, I can never bring myself to kill one. They don't harm me, and whatnot," Sam said.

I sighed shakily, unnoticed as I smiled slightly to myself.

"Compose yourself, mortal. You do not have very good control over your emotions. But of course. What did I expect from a human?" My eyes widened at Merilieth's voice and she sighed. She hadn't talked or said anything for all of our stay at Lothlórien.

"I have a name, you know," I snapped back.

"I know, human. You do. It is not a pretty name. "Mortal" sounds better." I held back a roll of my eyes. "See? No composure whatsoever. Next time you feel emotional, try breathing deeply instead of doing that abominable gesture with your eyes. You might just have them stay like that forever if you're not careful."

"And how would you know? Goody-two-shoes." Merilieth didn't understand until I thought of a bunch of insulting images of a goody-two-shoes. Not all of the goody-two-shoes in the world were bad, though. This one, this snotty old elf however, was.

Merilieth pointedly ignored me while my attention was drawn back towards the Company.

Aragorn was sharpening his knife with Gimli, who was doing the same to his axe. The hobbits sat off in their own little happy space and smoked their weed or whatever and looked blissful, with full stomachs and clean faces. Frodo, though, looked the happiest. Here in Lothlórien, the Ring was not so heavy on his mind, body, or soul. Boromir looked on the hobbits with a forced casual-looking smile. No one else seemed to notice his eyes drifting towards Frodo, and the Ring under the Perian's shirt.

I muttered to myself, worried for the Man of Gondor and his Ring-influenced mind.

I looked at the ground between my feet, still muttering.

"Boromir...Ring...starting..." My muttering got the attention of Legolas.

"Why do you mutter?" He asked, sitting besides me. He had walked over from somewhere behind me, so I did not notice his closeness before.

"I mutter when I think."

"You mutter quite a bit." The elf smirked.

"That is not the truth."

"You sleep, do you not? When you sit in your elvish trance, you tend to mutter." I blushed. "And often liquid streams from your mouth."

I huffed at his tease and scowled at his smug face.

"What do you mutter about?" Legolas asked, more serious than before.

"I mutter about fate, Legolas. What else is there to mutter about in the peace of Lórien?"

At the mention of fate, Legolas' face clouded over, and his grey eyes turned stormy.

"Do you still not favor the fact that I could not tell you about Gandalf's fall?" I hissed. "For all of the years that you have lived, it seems you have not gained any wisdom." I would not put up with Legolas' moodiness anymore. Step one of unbecoming a Mary Sue: not fall in love with Legolas. After all, the first step in anything is always the hardest.

Legolas tilted his pointy chin up in response, and his stubbornness prevailed over reason.

And here I was thinking dwarves were the most stubborn of the races.


The next morning, we went to the boats on the banks of the Silverlode that Galadriel and Celeborn had been kind enough to give us. Their long, white forms were delicate, but we were assured that they would be very sturdy. Hopefully. What a way to go: drowning. I would rather have been swept off of a ledge by a Balrog. Less humiliating, and whatnot.

The elves of Lothlórien gave all of us hooded cloaks, that were neither the grey of the stones, nor the blue of the water, nor the green of the land, fastened with a green brooch in the shape of a leaf, with veins of silver. These cloaks, the elves explained, were a great honor to give, for the Lady and her handmaidens themselves had woven them, and had never let outsiders wear their cloth.

We piled ourselves and our scant belongings into the boats. Legolas, Gimli, and I were in one boat; Aragorn, Frodo, and Sam in another; and Boromir, Pippin, and Merry were in the last boat. Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir rowed, and though I insisted upon rowing part of the time, Legolas staunchly refused.

And so we went down the icy-cold waters, slowly but steadily. A while later, an elegant ship drew up, carrying Galadriel and Celeborn. Aragorn stayed his boat, and the swan-shaped-ship drew up to us.

"Though you have been our guests," said Celeborn, "you have not yet eaten with us, and we bid you, therefore, to a parting feast, here between the flowing waters that will bear you far from Lórien."

And so we ate and drank in quiet and peace with the Lord and Lady. Galadriel and Celeborn were ever the symbol of the last true high-elvendom on Middle-Earth, and their beauty and grace was ever more defined. What really showed their elven presence and power, though, was the wisdom in their eyes and the sadness that seemed held back behind a shining aura that was draped over her and Celeborn as if a sign from above.

Elrond was better. I smiled to myself at the thought of Elrond Half-Elven. My heart fluttered and Merilieth scoffed, probably in disgust.

Celeborn totally ruined the mood when we were done feasting with words of warning of the road ahead. He warned of swift and unpleasant waters and of the strange land that was Fangorn. I just kind of zoned out. I was distinctly aware of Galadriel rising and speaking, and I was pretty sure that was important too, so I forced myself back into the real world. The innocent little butterfly I had been studying fluttered off.

She passed around a cup that we all drank from, a cup of "farewell" as she had said, probably when I was zoned off.

"We have drunk the cup of parting," she began, "and the shadows fall between us. But before you go, I have brought in my ship gifts which the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim now offer you in memory of Lothlórien."

To Aragorn she gave a sheath, made to fit his sword Anduril. It was overlaid with gems and silver and gold, and honestly was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. She asked if there was anything else he desired, since this would be their last meeting, but Aragorn answered, "Lady, you know all my desire, and long held in keeping the only treasure that I seek. Yet it is not yours to give me, even if you would; and only through darkness shall I come to it."

"Yet maybe this will lighten your heart, for it was left in my care to be given to you, should you pass through this land," said the Lady of the Wood. She took out a stone of a clear green, set in a silver brooch wrought in the likeness of an eagle with its wings outspread. "This stone I gave to Celebrian my daughter, and she to hers; and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the house of Elendil."

He thanked her and pinned the brooch on his chest, and when I looked at him, he seemed more kingly than he ever had before. No more was he just a Ranger laden with many toils; he had begun his transformation into the King of Gondor.

The Lady gave Boromir a belt of gold; to Merry and Pippin small silver belts with clasps of gold, wrought like flowers. Legolas was given a bow like the Galadhrim used, longer and stouter than his own Mirkwood bow, and strung with elf-hair. He was also given a quiver of arrows. To me she gave a sheath for my sword, made of plain grey thick material, but still graceful, with the sheath itself and a braided pattern over it, and at the top of the sheath lay a single green diamond in a golden snowflake much like my ring. She looked at me knowingly.

To Sam she gave a small plain grey wooden box, with a single silver "G" rune on the top. In it, there was earth that would grow no matter where it was sprinkled. The gardener blushed adorably, his slightly-pointed hobbit ears turning a deep shade of red.

She turned next to Gimli. "And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?" said the Lady of the Wood.

"None, Lady," answered the sheepish and embarrassed Dwarf, "it is enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim and to have heard her gentle words."

"Hear all ye Elves!" cried Galadriel, delighted and merry. "Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely, Gimli son of Gloin, you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift."

And then Gimli wowed all around him, and Celeborn looked at the Dwarf in blatant surprise. He had asked for a single strand of the Lady's golden locks upon her head. She cut three.

Next she gave Frodo a small crystal phial in which a clear liquid sat. In the phial was the light of Eärendil's star: the light of a Silmaril. "May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out."


We left Lóthlorien and its boundaries, looking back many a time as the Silverlode carried us out into the world of toil and grief.


Author's Note: Disclaimer: This is a FanFiction from the Lord of the Rings world, created and trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien. The characters, settings, and anything created by J.R.R. Tolkien are not my own and I do not claim ownership to any of them. This is a FanFiction I made with nothing to do with J.R.R. Tolkien, and is for entertainment purposes only: I am not profiting financially from this work, which may or may not be canonical. Thanks to J.R.R. Tolkien for making the world of The Lord of the Rings, for without it, many people would be un-enlightened to the genius of Lord of the Rings and J.R.R. Tolkien and the following FanFiction would never have been made, and I would have no life. Credits from most dialogue and setting to Peter Jackson, one of the best directors ever.

I made up Boromir's "girlfriend" back home...*looks around in a paranoid way*...sorrysorrysorry please don't kill me, Tolkien!