Amera did her best to catch her breath, painfully aware of the gash dripping from her upper arm. It was difficult to make out the expressions of the Fellowship from only the moonlight and the dying fire, but what she could see was shock, anger, confusion, faint recognition and surprisingly, something like amusement in the weathered face of Mithrandir. Her gaze flickered to the point of the sword resting uncomfortably close to her and she shifted slightly, biting down on her lip as a surge of pain rippled through her arm. No one said a word until Mithrandir suddenly shoved Boromir out of the way, practically kicking aside one of the halflings as he surged forward to question her.

"And did you think this the best way to announce your presence, Amera? Simply appearing in the middle of the night with your hood raised and sword drawn?," He barked and to which she nearly glowered.

"Such circumstances were less than ideal," She replied sharply, relaxing once Boromir lowered his sword, "Though I think if anything, my sword and my hood were of service to both you and your Company, given what might have happened without them." Amera brushed away a few dark strands of sweaty hair behind her ear, pressing her hand to her upper arm with a small wince. She sighed, calming herself and offering an explanation. "I have been trying to catch up with you for two days now and had feared I was too far behind until I heard one of the halflings call for you. I saw the fire and the Dunlendings, for so I believe them called, and I assure you they meant naught but ill will unto your companions."

Mithrandir took pause to stare at the bodies of the wild men littered around the camp, two daggers shining from the forms in which they were now sheathed. He then looked back to Amera with a huff. "I suppose we should be grateful then, to have had you near, which no doubt you would like us to be, but for now we must leave this place as quickly as we can. Who knows what other foul things might be drawn to our commotion and I, for one, am uneager to deal with anything more this evening."

She nodded and slowly rose to her feet, taking the time to withdraw her daggers and sheathe her blade, feeling uncomfortable beneath the gazes of those present. The halflings in particular, all of them save the Ringbearer, stared at her with a mixture of horror and curiosity. She did her best to put them at ease by offering a faint, tired smile to the stockiest of the bunch. It did no good.

The moon was high in the night sky by the time they reached the camp, Amera glancing at the bedrolls scattered around rather haphazardly. Aragorn had offered to bandage her arm and she accepted it gladly, relieved by the subsiding pain as he carefully pressed a few leaves to the wound. It was a stupid wound, she sighed as she glanced at it, one created by her own carelessness. She needed more practice. Though it had been long since last she held a blade, all the same if she was to wield one again, certainly for such an endeavor as the one she hoped to join, she would need to wield it well. "You fought well," Aragorn said softly, wrapping a strip of cloth around her slender forearm, "They were seasoned fighters, the Dunlendings. I fear for what might have happened to the hobbits without you."

She lifted her head, made aware of the fierce rebuke being given unto the three hobbits from Mithrandir across the camp. "I am glad I was there when I was," Amera replied, wincing once as he tied the cloth firmly, "But I think I am more relieved to have not been shot nor stabbed in the confusion when you arrived." Aragorn gave her a gentle smile at that, looking upwards as Mithrandir approached.

"Now, Amera, I think it is high time you explained yourself." He said politely but strongly, the rest of the Fellowship sitting down to warm themselves by the fire as they turned to listen.

She ran a tongue over her lower lip, self-conscious, but spoke all the same. "I had wished to join the Fellowship at the Council and very nearly did, but in my worry I did not and regretted it. I spoke unto Glorfindel, who bid me do as I would wish, and I left Imladris after receiving his good will. I have been trying to catch up with you for two days now, following what signs you had left behind, and had thought myself too far behind until I heard one of the hobbits cry for you earlier, Mithrandir. I ran towards what fire I saw and from there, you know the rest."

"Glorfindel?" Gandalf perked a brow, but she detected a small smile beneath his bushy beard. "He advised you to find us?"

"Yes," Amera said, "He told me what route he had suspected you might take and how quickly I should travel in order to reach you."

"Does Lord Elrond know of this?" The elf, who Amera remember had been called Legolas, spoke up. He tilted his chin towards her small pack and the traveling garb she bore, clearly crafted by elven hands.

She shifted her weight slightly, "I had not sought his counsel, no, but I-"

"So it seems we have a burglar," The dwarf stated rather accusingly, causing her to flush, "My father's company had one such as you. Tricky, he was, as trouble as he was of use."

"I left as swiftly as I could," Amera defended herself, nodding once, "And as Glorfindel bid me try and find you, I had thought that permission enough."

Mithrandir waved a hand, clearly unconcerned with the details of the matter, "Now, since you've introduced yourself by way of fending off a few foul folk, Amera, perhaps it is best you give your name to those who perhaps are unfamiliar with you," He cast a look towards the two hobbits that had so abruptly joined the Fellowship, seemingly appearing from nowhere as they had run forth. "For I should fear in their hiding, they might rather have had heard the discussion of the Council murmured."

"I know who she is," One perked up proudly, the soft lilt of his voice contrasted with Mithrandir's tone, "She had everyone all up in arms about something or other," He flashed a smile towards Boromir, "Especially Boromir and some of his friends."

Boromir appeared visibly uncomfortable at that and Amera felt she no doubt mirrored him, flushing further. Mithrandir rolled his eyes with a deep sigh, glancing about the rest of the Fellowship. He opened his mouth to speak further, but before she could stop herself she interrupted, "I wish to join the Fellowship, if…if you would have me. There are nine of you, yes, and such is a blessed number for such as this, but I wish to join all the same. I should have, would have, at the Council, and I regret that I did not. I would join you now, if you accept my aid and my oath, to help you in your quest."

She grew quiet then, watching the rest of the Fellowship. Mithrandir appeared pleased, though as usual she could not begin to guess what emotions Aragorn had of her request. The elf smiled at her, as did the hobbit that had spoken up, and Amera waited silently, her stomach churning in anxiety.

"She can fight well," Boromir spoke up gruffly, much to her surprise, his arms crossing over his chest as he nodded in her direction. "She can wield a blade better than most and I would think it wise to have another familiar with their sword in the Company."

Caught off guard by his words of favor, she blinked and glanced downwards briefly when he did not return her gaze. "She is a friend to my kindred," Legolas stated, "and honored amongst the Free Peoples. Her aid is of great value that we would be foolish to turn away."

She said nothing as Mithrandir finally turned to Frodo, who had been silent up until this point. "I will leave the decision up to you, Frodo, as you are Ringbearer."

Frodo looked to her then and she found herself unable to guess what the thoughts behind his wide, blue eyes might be. There was wisdom in his eyes, despite his stature and youth, determination and intelligence. Amera found herself deciding that even if he should send her away, as he had right to do, then she would be at peace with the matter. She had tried, after all, had done her best and offered her aid. It was only up to the Ringbearer now, to decide whether to accept it.

"I would not turn away a friend of the Free Peoples," Frodo finally spoke up quietly, his bright eyes meeting her own, "Not when there seems to be so many against us. I would accept whatever aid you might offer, my lady, gladly and thank you for it."

Amera smiled.

"You mean to tell me that is a seasoned warrior?" Gimli questioned gruffly, gesturing towards Amera's sleeping form with his pipe.

"She was called Maiden of Battle by Glorfindel himself," Legolas replied, "For her courage at the Battle of Fornost. For Glorfindel to think so highly of her is a rare honor."

Gimli snorted, taking a draw from his pipe, "I fear I don't value greatly the opinions of dainty elven lords when it comes to battle. We dwarves are far more experienced with that."

Aragorn quickly set a hand on Legolas' shoulder as the elf said angrily, "Glorfindel slew a balrog, dwarf."

"She fought the Dunlendings without aid, Gimli" Aragorn quickly cut in, hoping to steer the conversation away from any further argument, "That is no small feat given how long it has been since last she fought. We owe her our respect for that, at least."

He huffed once, the moonlight dancing over his scarred features, "So she is a fighter then, eh? Doesn't look it. Seems like a bit of breeze might go and blow her over." Gimli gestured towards Amera once more, who was curled up across the camp beneath her cloak. She had been exhausted, given both her skirmish with the Dunlendings and her swift trek across Eregion to catch up with them. After a rather awkward bit of silence, she had been ushered to bed by Mithrandir, who informed her they would be rising at first light and it was in her best interest to get as much sleep as she could before the dawn.

The hobbits had gone to bed, as well. Aragorn had been amused to notice Sam keeping his distance from her, casting a nervous glance in her direction before settling in for the night. Mithrandir, still grumpy from chastising the halflings for their foolishness earlier, had rolled onto his side with a grumble and said nothing more, leaving Boromir, Legolas, & Gimli and himself to assume he too had fallen asleep.

"She has seen battle," Legolas defended her quietly, his emerald eyes gleaming in the moonlight form beside him as he looked to Boromir, "Do your people speak of her often, Boromir?"

Aragorn glanced to the man, who had been silent up until this point. He gave a small shrug of his shoulders in reply, seemingly uncaring, "What stories we have of her are told to children and are vague at that."

"Children's stories?" Gimli sighed, shaking his head, "We're joined by a children's story?"

"She fought the Witch-king, dwarf," Legolas stated darkly, what Aragorn recognized as a warning, "To save one of my kindred from his sword when he rode forth to speak unto Earnur." Boromir lifted his head at that. "She fought him and he struck her thrice, thinking he had cut her down, but she did not fall, not until he had fled at the sight of Glorfindel. Earnur himself carried her from battle and it was by her will alone that she survived, for terrible are the weapons and dark breath of the Nazgul." He gave a small nod to no one in particular, adding softly, "We should be thankful for her aid."

Gimli was silent at that, working to hide how impressed he appeared by drawing from his pipe, though Aragorn saw Boromir seemed surprised. "They talk about that in your children's stories, hm?" The dwarf chuckled, perking a brow towards Boromir, who shook his head.

"No, no they do not. We speak little of her."

Gimli shrugged at that, standing up and tucking his pipe away into his pack. "Well, whatever she is, she had better keep her pace up tomorrow. I don't fancy having to carry her all the way to Mordor if she's slow."

Legolas opened his mouth to retort, visibly angry, but Aragorn quickly cut in. "We'll see tomorrow. Goodnight, Gimli."

Once he was out of earshot, Aragorn sighed and rested his hand once more upon Legolas' shoulder, the prince still clearly furious. "Give him time, Legolas," He reassured, "You forget, my friend, that few remember her and even fewer know of her. Your people remember much that others cannot. Gimli has right to be worried, even if it is misplaced. He means no insult to you or your people." That was a blatant, for Gimli meant a variety of insults, but all the same Legolas relaxed and nodded.

"You are right, Aragorn," He slipped into Sindarin, giving a little smile, "Thank you, for your wisdom."

Aragorn gave a small nod as the elf retreated into the darkness to rest, glancing over his shoulder to Boromir. "I will take first watch if you wish it, Boromir."

He waved a hand absently, "Nay, take what rest you would, Aragorn. I will watch for the remainder of the night. Half of it is spent, anyway. The dawn will be here soon enough." He said distractedly, gaze focused on some distant point Aragorn could not begin to guess at.

Aragorn watched him a moment longer, then nodded. "If you wish, then gladly will I retreat to bed. If you have need of me, Boromir, you need only ask."

Boromir nodded loosely, a hand running through his auburn hair as he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, positioning his sword and shield at the ready by his side. Aragorn wondered what it was the man was thinking, what had caused his gentle smile to fade and his calm demeanor to ice, but as he slipped beneath his cloak and rested his head, he wondered no more.