Disclaimer: If I owned NCIS and Lord of the Rings, I don't think I would be panicking about finding a career that could help support my horses. So no, I don't own NCIS or Lord of the Rings.

A/N: Yes I updated again! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. You all are awesome and have given me motivation again to continue writing.I hope you like the update! I have proofread this a few times, so I hope there are no mistakes here. As always, reviews and/or critiques are appreciated.

~Lady Ryn


Rivendell, Middle Earth

"Ziva!"

Arwen's voice stopped Ziva in her tracks as she turned to face the older elf. The elf's dark hair was trailing behind her as she held up the hem of her gown while running towards the woman.

"Arwen," Ziva said as Arwen approached, "you were not at the council."

Arwen came to a stop in front of the Israeli, shaking her head. "One of the horses pulled a tendon out in the field." At Ziva's look of concern she shook her head. "He's resting comfortably now, but I didn't want to leave him alone until he settled in."

"Which horse?" Ziva asked, the concern still showing on her face. The elven horses rarely got hurt, and she hopped it wasn't Sarnie or Asfaloth.

"Bainír. That dark gray stallion who lived in the pasture next to Asfaloth." Realization dawned on Ziva as she remembered the big stallion who always seemed full of himself in the field. "We don't know exactly what happened, so we are keeping an eye on him, as well as the other horses in the field. We don't want it to happen again. So," she said as her eyes narrowed as she studied the young woman. "You volunteered yourself to accompany Frodo?"

Ziva sighed and was about to deliver a quick retort when she noticed the veiled look of hurt that shone through Arwen's eyes. "Arwen," she said as she placed her hand on the taller elf's shoulder. "I do not want to leave you, or Elladan or Elrohir, but I really need to do something. I have not been this inactive for a very long time, and I feel as if my skin is crawling. And I want to help Frodo. There is just something about him that makes me want to protect him."

As Ziva's hand dropped off her shoulder, Arwen sighed herself as she let her eyes drop to her feet. "I wish I could come along, but Ada would not let me in a million years. I cannot believe he is letting you go," she added, looking back up and meeting Ziva's eyes.

Ziva snorted. "I am heading to his office right now. I think he is going to try to dissuade me."

"Don't let him," Arwen answered, shaking her head. "If you ask me, that group needs a female presence. Too much male hormones could be disastrous. Besides," she said, her mouth twisting into a sad smile as tears began to show in her eyes, "I need you to look after Aragorn for me."

"I am not leaving yet, Arwen," Ziva said, patting Arwen on her cheek. "So no crying yet." Looking back behind her towards Elrond's office, she tapped her fingers on her leg before turning back to look at Arwen. "Well, I better go speak to your father. I will see you later." With a smile interchanged between the two, Ziva turned and headed up the rest of the stairs she was currently standing on and towards elven-lord's office. She paused outside the door, her hand ready to knock, when she heard angry voices inside. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she pushed her ear up against the door and listened.

"…tolerate this anymore, Lord Elrond." Ziva reflexively balled her hands into fists as she recognized the voice of the Gondorian, Boromir. "I did not object to her being at the council, this being your home, but I will not just let her join this fellowship! This journey is perilous and is no place for a woman! She could jeopardize the entire mission!"

"Lord Boromir. As much as I appreciate your thoughts on this matter," Lord Elrond's strained voice answered, "I must disagree. Ziva is a very capable…"

"That she may be, but she is still a woman!" Boromir interrupted. "There is no way that she has the stamina and strength to keep up, and we cannot afford to have to protect her along with Frodo if we are attacked!"

"Ziva can protect herself," Elrond said, his voice clipped. Ziva clearly heard Boromir scoff.

"I highly doubt that."

With that, Ziva decided she had heart enough and knocked on the door. She waited half a second until she heard Elrond's tired voice inviting her in. With that she turned the doorknob and pushed the door in, entering. The tension inside was thick, almost thick enough, Ziva concluded, that she could probably cut through it with her knife.

"You called for me, Lord Elrond?" she asked, not even glancing in Boromir's direction. Though she felt his icy gaze on her, she did notice him take a step back as she entered.

"Yes Ziva. Please. Sit."

Ziva shut the door behind her and walked forward, taking a route that took her closest to Boromir, and took pleasure in the fact that he backed up when she narrowed her eyes at him while walking past. Sitting in one of the chairs in front of Elrond's desk, she gave him most of her attention, some awareness still on the man behind her and to the right.

Elrond looked over her shoulder back to said man, his gaze not betraying his true feelings. "Are we done her, Boromir?"

"I do not have a say in this, do I?" he responded, his tenseness leaking into his voice.

Elrond shook his head. "No you do not. It was Frodo's choice, and he has already spoken on the matter."

With that she heard Boromir turn and stride to the door, pulling it open. His voice then drifted back to the two before Ziva heard the door slam behind him. "If this mission fails, Lord Elrond, because of her, don't say I didn't warn you." Elrond sighed as he sat behind his desk, folding his hands in front of him.

"You have caused quite a stir, Ziva."

"I cannot not go, Elrond. And you know as well as I do that there is no stopping me once I set my mind to something." Ziva thought she caught a hint of a smile on Elrond's face before he schooled it into his passive mask.

"This is going to be a dangerous mission, Ziva."

Ziva nodded. "I know that. And I am willing to take the risk. You have found no new leads on sending me home," she said, Elrond leaning back into his chair with a sigh. "And I cannot sit around and do nothing. I feel obligated to help, if only because I consider you all my friends." Ziva looked Elrond straight in the eye, unblinking. "If there is one thing that my friends from back home taught me, it is that you help your friends."

"And you have lost too many people to not do something when you can," Elrond finished for her, paraphrasing what she had told him the other day after going after Arwen. Elrond sighed with that, shaking his head. "There is indeed nothing I can do to stop you, Ziva. So I wish you luck, and safety. Listen to Gandalf, and as much as I know you and Boromir do not get along," Ziva snorted at this, but quieted when Elrond gave her an almost Gibbs-like glare, "you two need to get along for the whole fellowship's safety."

Ziva smiled slightly, recognizing the half-elf's blessing in the advice. "Thank you."

Elrond stood from behind his desk and nodded to the door. "Now I suggest you go and prepare for your departure."

Ziva placed her hand over her heart and half-bowed, turning away from the elf and towards the door, leaving as quickly and quietly as she could.


Two days later Ziva, packed and prepared, descended down the flight of stairs into the courtyard where the fellowship was gathering to depart. Dressed for travel she was wearing her breeches, a light though long sleeved loose fitting top, and her knee high boots. When first arriving here she had mourned the loss of her old clothes, destroyed by whatever power had brought her here, but had come to appreciate and like the elven style of clothing. It was comfortable, and at the same time gave her a great range of motion for fighting, if needed. The tip of a bow and arrows peeked over her shoulder while a sword and elven knife adorned her belt. Though the elves seemed to prefer the braided look, she had pulled her hair back into a ponytail with a leather thong to keep it out of her face.

After packing Ziva had spent the last two days with the friends she had made since arriving in the valley, mainly Arwen, Elladan, and Elrohir, trying to spend as much time with them as she could before she had to leave. She was going to miss them all, and the realization that she was leaving them behind made her realize how much she had relied on them these past few months to keep her sane in the face of losing all that she had known. She and Arwen had already shared a tearful goodbye, more tears on Arwen's part than hers, and Ziva was sort of glad that the twins had been called away from Imladris before the departure. They had wished her luck with the gift of one of their bows, the bow that was currently on her back, and one of their elven knives, the knife that was currently sheathed at her belt. Ziva had thanked them with a hug, to both their surprise and partly hers as well, before she had slapped them both upside the head, telling them to be safe.

You will see them again, she thought to herself as she approached the already gathered members of the fellowship. She deliberately ignored Boromir, though silently greeted the rest of the group with nods. Everyone was here, including the pack pony they were using to carry some of their essentials, with the exception of Aragorn. As she settled herself next to Legolas on the outskirts of the small group, she glanced around the courtyard, trying to find the ranger. Elrond stood not too far in front of them, quietly conversing with one of the members of his household. Many of the other important members of his household fanned out behind him, contrasting with the fellowship in wearing ceremonial instead of travel garb. Arwen was also absent from the gathering, and Ziva was able to get an idea of where the two of them were. Where Ziva had spent a lot of time with Arwen, Aragorn had spent very little, almost avoiding her. Ziva had noticed Elrond's disapproving looks towards the two earlier, so she wondered if he had something to do with this avoidance.

Ziva was broken out of her reverie by the sound of approaching footsteps on the stairs and noticed Arwen descending, Aragorn following. Though Arwen tried to school her face into the passive mask her father was so good at, Ziva could still see the hurt and sadness there as she settled in among the other elves of the household. As Aragorn joined them, Ziva noticed Arwen's necklace around his neck and was answered with a shake of his head when she quirked an eyebrow at him, indicating it with her eyes.

As Aragorn stopped beside the pony and turned towards Elrond, Elrond's clear voice rang out loud and clear. "The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him no oath nor bond is laid, to go further than you will." At will Ziva noticed Elrond look at her, but she held strong. "Farewell," he added, his gaze sweeping the whole group. "Hold to your purpose. May the blessings of Elves and Men and all free folk go with you." With that, he spread his arms out wide, and Legolas and Aragorn bowed their heads, their hands upon their hearts. As Elrond looked at her Ziva nodded, letting her gaze then travel to her close friend standing a ways back. Arwen gave her a small smile, her eyes already filling with tears, before Ziva turned to face Frodo as Gandalf's voice reached her ears.

"The Fellowship awaits the Ring-bearer." Ziva noticed the flicker of fear in the poor hobbit's eyes at this, though she had to give him credit for standing tall and turning to walk through his companions and past Gandalf and finally under the arch that stood behind them all. As the rest of the fellowship began to file out after him she followed, finding herself between Legolas and Sam who was leading their pony. As she herself passed under the arch, she turned to look back, and noticed Aragorn hanging back, watching Arwen. She didn't miss the sorrow that filled the elf's eyes before the arch obstructed her view and she patiently followed the blond head of the Mirkwood elf in front of her.

Following Frodo, the fellowship passed over the narrow bridge that crossed over the roaring Bruinen, and they started their ascent out of the valley. As they crested the lip of the valley, Ziva paused and turned back to look, her eyes scanning the peaceful place that had been her home for the past few months. She felt more than saw Aragorn stop beside her. "You'll be back Ziva."

Ziva turned to half smile up at him. "I certainly hope so. Arwen still owes me for that chicken incident." She saw a smile tug at his lips as he looked down at her.

"Now that is a very good reason for returning." The two of them turned and then followed the rest of the fellowship, bringing up the rear behind Sam and the pony. As a sort of last minute check Ziva half unsheathed her knife at her waist, then her sword, and then checked the small pouch on her belt for the bow strings she would need to string the bow on her back. She was as ready as she was going to be for this mission.


A/N: Ziva is finally leaving Rivendell! Alright, so I want to hear opinions from you all on how I should take this story from here. I've been debating how closely I should follow canon, so I want to know what my readers think, since I am writing this for you all. So if you have an opinion, please share! Thanks for reading!

~Lady Ryn