It'd been several days since Pippin had told Arwen and Aragorn the news of the westbound ship.

Aragorn had extended his invitation to him since then (the king knew the Shire was a long way from Gondor). Today he was planning to send him off back home with a horse, plenty of food, and one of his soldiers as an escort.

It was still relatively early. The sun had risen only a couple of hours ago. Arwen hadn't come out to the throne room yet. A table had been set up there for breakfast – the same one that Denethor had sat at often. Fortunately, the meal hadn't been served yet. He had to admit that he was far more hopeful today than he was several days ago. Arwen had told him what she'd heard from Galadriel that night.

They were safe – and Frodo was alive. But what did she mean by "a new form"…?

A knock on the throne room doors startled him out of his thoughts. He straightened as they were thunderously opened by two guards. He was caught by surprise when he saw who they were opening the doors for: King Éomer of Rohan.

His grim expression, paired with his tall stature, broad shoulders, and the long yellow hair that identified him as one of the Rohirrim, made him look quite intimidating. His brows were knitted, and he looked as though he'd not slept a wink the night before.

"Éomer," Aragorn uttered as he rose from his seat.

"What brings you here at such an early hour?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you in such an untimely manner," Éomer replied, "but I'm afraid I have some ill news."

He paused briefly.

"My sister Éowyn's gone missing – as well as her husband Faramir."

"How?"

"No one knows. Several nights ago they seemed perfectly fine, then the next morning, they were gone without a trace. I came here hoping that they were just paying a visit to Gondor."

"I'm afraid not," Aragorn responded. "I haven't seen them in weeks."

"If I do see them, I'll let you know as soon as possible," he added.

"Thank you, Aragorn."

Éomer sat in one of the chairs and rested his arms on the table. Aragorn could tell that he was worn from travel and stress.

"Would you mind if I took a rest here?"

"Not at all."

…

"Dear gods, lass! Your mum and I have been worried sick! Where were you?"

"Sorry, Da. I kind of got lost in the forest… Just found my way back just now."

Fergus raised an eyebrow.

"Merida – I'd expect you'd be an expert by now."

"I found a new area where I've never been before – honestly!"

"Well, you are quite adventurous. I may believe you, but you're gonna have a much harder time convincing your mother."

Merida drew a deep breath as she rode along with her father and his search party. She didn't like the fact that she had to lie to him, but she couldn't risk him or her mother (especially her mother) finding out about the selkie she summoned the night before.

I may believe you, but you're gonna have a much harder time convincing your mother.

Her stomach tightened into knots. She looked up again at her father.

Maybe he could help me…

She considered his words again

… Or not.

…

The doors thundered open when they finally arrived at Castle DunBroch. The knots in Merida's stomach were far from gone. Fergus put his hand on her shoulder as they walked into the throne room.

A thought suddenly crossed Merida's mind. At first, she thought it was absolutely stupid.

Think of him.

What?

Frodo – the selkie!

This is insane – I'm about to face my mother after running off for the whole night! I'll look like a fool and –

JUST DO IT.

Finally, she did. The piercing, vivid blue eyes came to the front of her mind, followed by the elegant masculine face framed by dark and wildly long tresses that tumbled down his naked torso. Then, there was the voice she'd first heard only that morning – and the way it sounded when he said her name.

Stop it! Stop it right now before you make yourself look like a loopy ninny!

Only when she was done silently scolding herself did she realize that the knots in her stomach had finally loosened.

She glanced up and noticed her mother coming down the stairs. One of the members of the search party spoke up as she took the time to take a deep breath.

"We found the princess, Milady. Fortunately, it doesn't look as though she was harmed."

The queen's pace quickened as she descended into the throne room. Her back became as straight as the arrows left in Merida's quiver as she approached them, took her daughter by the hand, and lead her to her side in front of the three thrones.

Queen Elinor turned to face her husband and his search party.

"Gentlemen – you brought our daughter home safe and sound. For that, you have my utmost gratitude. As a reward for your troubles, you and your families are all invited to attend our banquet celebrating her betrothal."

The man who spoke up bowed to her.

"Thank you, your highness."

Fergus cleared his throat.

"Good job, lads. We'll see you all then!"

With that, the men of the search party calmly headed for the doors, leaving the three of them alone. Merida listened intently to the shuffling of their feet to get her mind off her parents. As the sound finally died down, she thought she could her the giggles of three little boys.

Fergus was completely unaware of their latest bout of mischief.

"Well, since that's all settled, I think I'll – "

Merida's gaze suddenly shifted to the floor. Somehow, her little brothers had managed to slip a rope around Fergus' wooden leg and tie it to the foot of his throne. She couldn't help but giggle as she clasped her hand over her mouth in order to muffle it.

He took a few steps and snapped around at the sensation of the tugging rope.

"BOYS!"

Merida's little brothers dashed off bursting with laughter as Fergus drew out his sword to cut himself free and stormed after them.

"I'm gonna get you little rascals!"

As soon as the laughter faded in the distance, Merida's gaze turned back to her mother. The queen's face was as serious as ever as she cleared her throat.

"Remember – a princess does not chortle."

"Now," she continued, her expression changing into one of concern. "Where were you?! We were both worried sick!"

"Umm… I-I was exploring a new part of the forest, and um… I… got lost, I guess."

Well, that was quite convincing.

"Merida, I hope you're telling the truth."

"I am, honestly!" she replied with a nervous laugh.

Elinor took a deep breath.

"We'll deal with this later. Right now, we have some more important issues at hand."

"Umm… We do…?"

"Yes. If the lairds are to get a second chance at winning your hand in marriage, they need to get to know you better. Now, I know how much you love venturing outdoors…"

Merida's eyes widened, brows rising with curiosity.

"Yes?"

"So, I've decided to throw a hunting party- I'm sure you and the lairds will both enjoy it!"

A small smile crept on Merida's lips.

"Well, it does sound like a lot of fun. When is it?"

"It'll be in several days. In the meantime, I'd like you to brush up on your skills concerning how to be a lady. A princess must always be ready to use her charms," Elinor answered, smiling back as she uttered the last sentence.

"Lessons will start this evening at dinner. I'd recommend getting a spot of rest between now and then – especially since you were out all night."

With that, the queen gathered her skirts and headed up the stairs. Merida waited a while before following her mother's suit and heading to her room.

As soon as she was sure she was out of Elinor's earshot, she let out a heavy sigh.

"The things I must do for my people…" she muttered under her breath before Frodo's face began to haunt her mind again.

…

A trail of wisps materialized within the circle of standing stones, leading to its center. A man and a woman soon followed. The wisps vanished as soon as they reached it. The man and the woman were still in their nightclothes – he wore a loose tunic and leggings, while she was garbed in a long white nightgown adorned with subtle embroidery.

The man stopped where the trail ended and looked around, brows knitting in confusion as he scanned his surroundings.

"What is this place…?"

The woman at his side was just as bewildered as he was.

"Where did they go? I could have sworn they were here moments ago!"

"We shouldn't have followed them, Éowyn. The only other place you'll find the likes of them is the Dead Marshes – and Frodo almost drowned there!"

Suddenly, a new trail appeared leading away from the stones. Éowyn looked up in its direction and stepped cautiously towards it. Her husband was quick to grab her hand.

"Éowyn, don't!"

"They're the ones that got us here. Maybe they'll get us back home."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't – but Faramir, it's the only source of guidance we have here. I don't think we have a choice."

The distinct, high-pitched sighs of the wisps could be heard in the distance. Faramir didn't let go of his wife's hand. Instead, they warily followed the glowing blue path as it lead them deeper into the unknown land.

…

Neither Faramir nor Éowyn knew how long they'd been walking when they heard the rowdy singing of a drunken man. It was the first sign of another human soul they'd experienced in this strange land.

They didn't need to take the initiative to follow the voice; the will-o-the-wisps did that for them. Faramir was the first to notice that the trail suddenly turned towards a seashore. A patch of fog briefly impaired their vision before the dim light of a poorly lit lantern could be seen in the distance.

At first, the fisherman paid no heed to them as he nudged his boat onto the shore and dragged his net to what was presumably his house. His loud, obnoxious song continued to fill the night air. The fisherman grabbed a nearby bottle of whiskey and took a good gulp of it.

Éowyn was the first to approach him.

"Excuse me…?"

Only then did the fisherman look in their direction. He marched back to the boat, grabbed the lantern, and stormed towards the two of them.

"What the hell are you doing out here at this ungodly hour?!"

"We got lost," Faramir responded. "We need a place to rest."

For a moment, there was nothing but a silence that was as unpleasant as the scent of the musty air mingling with the stench of old fish.

Éowyn stepped forward.

"Would it be all right if we slept in your house tonight?"

The fisherman narrowed his eyes and scrutinized them both, as if he were looking for a sign of danger.

"We mean you no harm," she coaxed. "I promise."

The fisherman sighed loudly and rolled his eyes.

"All right – fine, damn it! But it's only 'cause you're pretty and my wife could use some help scalin' and bonin' the fish."

"You'll allow my husband to sleep here, too?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't push your luck, lady. Follow me."

He turned around and took another gulp of his whiskey as he led them to his shack. Faramir took his wife's hand and pulled her closer.

"Are you sure we should trust him?" he whispered.

"No, not entirely," she answered. "But please, don't worry about me. If I could slay the Witch King of Angmar, I can definitely handle a drunkard."