Ok. Ordinarily I would update my other stories first - since I've been dedicating a lot of time to My Nuka recently. However, I decided not to be too cruel and keep y'all waiting...
Previously...
Satisfied, and finally no longer on fire, the Nazgul regathered and headed off into the night. They would bide their time.
Sam waited by the bed of his master and friend. They were finally safe in Rivendell and, although Frodo had yet to wake up, Gandalf had assured Sam that he was sure to recover. It had been a terrible journey to get Frodo there.
They had fled Weathertop as soon as Strider said the wraiths were far enough away, and continued to flee toward the safety of Rivendell for the next week. One night Strider had taken Sam to get the leaves of a plant, Kingsfoil, which Strider called Athelas - a common weed that he said would help slow the poison in Frodo's wound. Instead of the leaves, they had brought an elvish lady back to camp. They had met herin the woods and she apparently knew Strider. He called her Arwen.
Strider had put Frodo on her horse and she had galloped off intot he night. They hadn't learned about the rest of her journey until four days later (that morning, actually), when they finally reached Rivendell.
She had been chased by the wraiths - all nine of them - but had managed to reach the ford of the river outside Rivendell. When they had tried to cross the river to attack, the magic of the elves cause the river to flood, protecting her and Frodo.
Sam woke, realizing that he had fallen asleep, to hear voices in the room. Being the curious hobbit that he was, he pretended to still be asleep so that he could listen.
Pippin must be rubbing off on me.
Luckily for him, the conversation was not in elvish.
"I don't know what happened, Gandalf, but I am sure of his death." It was Strider's voice, and he sounded close to tears. "He would die before succumbing to their will, and I hope that his magic would protect him from such a wound as Frodo received. He certainly could not have escaped them, and even if he had he would have found some way to rejoin us by now. No, my heart is sure that he has fallen."
Silence reigned for a long minute. The tone in Strider's voice sent Sam back to Weathertop for a moment, when they first knew that Phantom had fallen and Strider had given way to grief.
"Then he gave his utmost for Arda. You can be proud of him, Aragorn, though I know his death is a severe blow. There is really nothing that I can say in comfort."
"I am proud of him, Gandalf. Do not doubt that. But you are right - it does not lessen the blow."
"He must have been more than merely one of your men for it to affect you so." Gandalf observed.
"He was. It sorely grieves me when any one of my men falls, but Hiljar was more than one of my men; he was my brother. Or so I viewed him, and I know he saw me as the same. We have been constant companions for two years." Strider finally had control again; his greif was no longer so prevalent in his voice - at least not in the form of tears."
"I have never heard of him before this day, Aragorn. Who was he, and where did he come from?" Gandalf asked carefully, trying not to cause his friend more grief.
"I found him in the wilds, weak and dying, attacked by wolves. After I fought off the pack, I cared for him in a nearby cave until he was well enough to travel. Then I brought him here, to Rivendell, where he became one of my men."
"And why did he always travel with you? Previously, you have preferred to work alone."
"That was partially because Lord Elrond did not trust him at first. There were other reasons as well - I suppose it does not really matter now, but I still will not tell his secreets."
Silence. Sam dared to slit his eyes open - just as Gandalf looked straight at him.
"Well! Up to your old tricks, Sam?" Only this time, you're not listening under a window. We have ourselves an eavesdropper, Aragorn. And what have you to say for yourself, my hobbit?"
The twinkle in Gandalf's eyes showed that he wasn't really angry. Strider's face was more or less impassive, like usual. It was Strider that Sam adressed, completely ignoring Gandalf's question.
"I know things don't look good for Phantom, Mr. Strider. But we don't know he's dead yet, do we? For certain sure, I mean. You said he was a better fighter than you, and you fought them off. Could be he kept the other four away from us, maybe, followed them to the ford and helped the river chase them away. I know it's not likely, but there is still hope. You can't give up hope, not until you absolutely know he didn't make it."
The Ranger and Wizard both looked rather surprised by the hobbit's outburst; actually, Sam was quite surprised himself.
Now where did that come from? Put it in higher sounding language and it's like something Mr. Frodo would say.
"Well said, Sam." Strider said, very quietly. "And you are right. Thank you, my friend. I will keep some hope until we are certain of his fate. The the Ranger turned and left the room.
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"Amala. Open your eyes."
The last daughter of Anil did as she was told, and was met with a bright, yet soft, golden light. When her eyes adjusted to it, she saw she was lying on the ground in the middle of a forest. The trees were huge, and spread far apart, but they did not block the sunlight and there was no undergrowth. In the branches overhead a number of brightly colored birds darted to and fro, singing loudly. Instead of a riot of birdsong, however, it seemed to form a complex sort of music. Behind the music of the birds, there was a sort of background of immense silence. The air was cool and fresh, and everywhere that she looked the forest stretched on without end or variation. (A.N. Description paraphrased from The Silver Chair.)
"Amala."
Adara turned around to find the One who had spoken. There behind her stood the Lion. Aslan. Son of the great Emperor over the sea. King of Astî.
"Aslan!" She cried, and rushed to his side, flinging her arms about his neck and burying her face in his mane. The Lion purred softly. Suddenly she pulled away, confused. "Aslan, what happened? I thought I died... did I? Am I in your country?"
"You have not died."
Adara stared at him. "How can I not have died? I was stabbed by the wraith, wasn't I? Am I misremembering?"
He chuckled slightly. "You are full of questions, child. Sit."
She did so and he lay down, catlike, by her side.
"You were stabbed by the wraith, and will bear the mark of that wound to the end of your days. But you have forgotten the Dejen. As long as the foundation of your people survives, your people will remain. The magic contained in the Dejen saved your life." Aslan said, quietly. "And you are in my country, for now. But you will not be here long. Your friends need you."
"Aslan, was this what you meant? At the coronation? You said that Astî would need me before the end, and so would lands far more distant. Were you talking about Arda?"
"I was. Arda, and many other worlds. Your people know much, Princess of Amator, but there is much they do not understand. The worlds are many, yet they are also one. As my Father and I are one. We created them, so they cannot be completely separate.
"When Lucifer, known in Arda as Morgoth, fell from his place in my service and corrupted the worlds, they were split. Yet they still are connected; they cannot be wholly severed from each other without the destruction of all. Therefore, what affects one world will, be it directly or indirectly, affect another as well. When the power of evil in one world grows, it strengthens the evil in another. The same is true of the powers of goodness. So you will directly influence the fates only of Arda and Astî, but indirectly you affect all the worlds." Aslan stood. "Come. Aragorn, your brother, is greatly grieved, for he thinks you fallen. You must return to Arda. But you will not return to the same time that you left it, nor to the same place. Time moves at different paces, and it is already nearly a week after you battled the Nazgúl. I will send you where you are needed, but it is time for you to be known as a woman."
"Aslan?" Adara questioned, stopping him. "Where… What happened to my brother and sisters? Where are they?"
"I sent them back to their own world, Amala. Their time is Astî was done. Have no fear, dear one. You will see them again, and in the land of your heart. But do not focus on this, you will need all your strength to defeat the darkness you now fight."
"What do you mean?"
"There is more in this than meets the eye, dear one. Be warned, the Ring's pull will be hard for you to fight."
"Will you help me, Aslan? I am frightened of what I may have to do to protect Arda, and the reactions of everyone who knows me as Hiljar. Will you help me to make the right choices?"
He raised his head and looked her in the eyes. "I am with you always, even to the end of the world. Do not fear. I will never leave you." As he spoke the color of his mane filled her vision, until finally even his face disappeared in a swirl of gold. Slowly the gold faded, leaving her standing, in her usual attire/disguise, in the center of a circle of men, dwarves, and elves. She instantly knew what was going on, though how she knew, she couldn't say. It was the council of the Ring.
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When Adara appeared in the middle of the council, every person there instantly leapt to his feet with a shout. She couldn't blame them, someone had just appeared out of thin air in the middle of the room. In spite of the uproar, however, Adara heard a harsh cry on one side. At the sound of the cry all the noise ceased and she turned in the direction of the noise, although she was already sure of who was standing there.
Aragorn was staring at her, his face more expressive than she had ever seen it before. A mass of emotions struggled there; hope, fear, disbelief, anger. Slowly, he took two steps forward, and then he was suddenly standing right in front of her.
"Ad?" His quiet voice was strangled with emotion, almost tremulous.
{"Yes, Aragorn, it's me."} She said, softly enough that only he could hear her voice.
"Where… What happened?"
"That is something I would like to know as well." Adara heard Elrond behind her.
"Is it Phantom?" Frodo asked from the side. A moment later, she was attacked with hugs from four exuberant and rather excited hobbits, three of whom were not supposed to be present. To the surprise of everyone at the council, especially those who were acquainted with Hiljar, she laughed.
Glancing up at Aragorn from her new position on the ground (Thank you hobbits! Note the sarcasm…) she said as softly as before, "Can I talk with you for a moment?"
He looked confused, but nodded, and helped her remove the hobbits and stand up. Then he quietly said, "We will return directly."
Before anyone could question or protest, he pulled her far enough away from the circle that, although they were still in sight, they were out of hearing of all – even elves. As soon as they were far enough away he turned to her, but she quickly cut him off.
"Ok; first off, I know you are going to scold me for taking Nazgúl on by myself. You will tell me it was reckless and I could have gotten killed. And yes, you are absolutely right. Now that's out of the way."
In spite of himself, Aragorn grinned.
"Second, oh El, Aslan took me to his country! I was almost in Astî!"
Now he just looked confused.
"Third, I should have died. I would have died, except for the Dejen. I don't know if you remember, but I told you once that as long as our foundation lasted, so would the Amator. I am the last daughter of Anil, and the Dejen is still well, so I could not die. Aslan said its magic for healing saved my life."
"Where have you been then?" He asked with some anger in his voice.
"In Aslan's country. I was only there for a few minutes before he sent me back, but he said that it was about a week here. Time passes differently in different places; I told you that too, when we left Bree that first time. Do you remember?"
Slowly nodding, Aragorn replied, "Yes, I remember."
"There's one more thing…" Adara trailed off.
"Well?"
"He said that I'm not to go as a man any longer."
Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "That's going to go over so well."
She stared at him in surprise. "That's it? No protest, no trying to make me see reason? Just one of my own expressions, and you're good?"
He shrugged slightly, a gesture that looked totally out of place on the stern Ranger. "You place a great deal of faith in Aslan. I place a great deal of faith in Illuvatar. They are one and the same person – are they not? – simply given different names in different worlds. If Aslan said you are not to go as a man any longer, then how can I argue? I am not sure how it is going to go, considering some of those present, but you know that I will stand by you, my sister."
"Then let's get this over with?"
They returned to the circle. Already they were back to their brother/sister relationship where they simply worked together without questions or problems. She knew that he absolutely would support her as he had said, and it gave her a great deal of comfort.
"Are you prepared to explain yourself now, Hiljar?" Elrond asked. "Everyone here knows of your death, and though all are overjoyed to see you alive, we are also quite shocked."
Everyone who knew Hiljar waited for 'him' to whisper to Aragorn, and Aragorn to relate what his friend had said.
Adara took a deep breath. This was it, the moment when everyone would know that Hiljar was actually a woman.
"I am prepared to explain, Lord Elrond. But I ask that no one interrupt until my explanation is finished."
Once again, the council (except for the dwarves this time) was on its feet in hubbub. The most distinguishable words were along the lines of, "A woman?"
Elrond gestured, and then shouted, for silence. When the council finally settled down one of the dwarves grumbled, "I don't see the problem. The Ranger is a woman. So?"
Adara turned to him with a smile. Although her hood was down, she was still wearing her mask and cloak. "Among the dwarves women are workers and fighters alongside the males. So it is also with my people. But for Elves and many races of men, it is not so."
"Your people?" A redheaded man among the men she had identified as Gondorian by their distinct dress questioned. "You are not human?"
She glanced uncertainly at Aragorn before answering, "I am not."
"Then what are you?"
Hesitating for a moment, Adara removed her hood and cloak. Pippin, helpful for once, took them for her. She thanked him with a look. Glancing at Aragorn again for reassurance, she said quietly (but loudly enough for all present to hear), "I am not human, though I am in human-form. Nor is my race native to this world. I am the only remaining of my people."
She faced the man who had questioned her. "I am of the Amator – the last daughter of Anil." As she spoke, Adara took first-form. For the first time, Aragorn saw one of her Amator forms.
She was tall – taller than any woman anyone there had ever seen – at least a foot taller than she was in human-form. And she was not a small woman in human-form.
Her hair looked as though it were forged of soft gold and fell in waves to her feet. There were streaks of white in it; almost the color of mithril, almost the color of clouds on a summer day, almost the color of snow, not quite any of these. There was also a single strand of blue in the midst of the white and gold.
Her skin showed the gentle color of a young child blooming in the sunshine, except for her hands (starting about half-way up her palms) and lower arms. There it was a soft, blue and seemed to be more like scales, or maybe some sort of armor, not skin.
Her eyes were as blue as the summer sky, possibly even bluer; they were the same color as the single blue streak in her hair, but brighter than the soft blue of her arms.
She had allowed her clothes to change this time with the transformation. Now she wore a long white gown that gently brushed the tops of her bare feet, a golden bracelet on each wrist, and a golden necklace from which hung the Dejen – a beautiful blue stone the same color as her eyes, to those who didn't know what it was. On her head was a simple circlet of gold.
On the palm of her left hand was a blue mark in the shape of a dragon, and on her left cheek was a white swirly mark that slightly resembled a star. Strangest of all, she seemed to glow with a soft gold-white light.
The entire council, Aragorn included, simply stared at her for a long moment. No one there had ever seen anything more beautiful. It was Aragorn who finally broke the silence.
"I assume this is first-form?" He asked softly.
Adara just nodded.
"This is the form of the Amator?" The redhead asked.
"We have two forms. This is first-form; I will not take second-form now, nor anywhere near the Ring." She responded.
"Now that we've established what Phantom's race is," Frodo spoke up, "perhaps we could allow her request to be permitted to tell her tale without interruption?"
Elrond nodded at her to begin. So, taking a deep breath – hey, this was stressful stuff, even for the Princess of Astî and Amator – begin she did.
"Most of what I have to say will be understood by very few of those present. That is as it should be – those who need to know will understand. While in shadow-form, I sensed the Nazgúl away to the south of Aragorn and the hobbits. They were approaching quickly and I went to intercept them, hoping to give the others enough time to reach Weathertop where they would be safer. When I reached the wraiths, I engaged them in battle. Only four of them were there, else I would have fallen far sooner than I did. Eventually one managed to deal me what should have been a fatal blow, and I passed into the darkness of death. Before I died, however, the magic contained in the Dejen healed me. As long as the foundation of my people endures, we cannot wholly die out. I woke in Aslan's country. Although I was there only about a quarter-hour, here a week passed. Aslan had many words for me, answered my questions, and explained to me something he had said many years ago that had long puzzled me. Then he set me back in Arda, in the middle of this council, as you all saw." She concluded.
As soon as he could tell that she was finished speaking, the redhead from earlier burst out, "Who is this Aslan, and where is his country? How could so little time pass in that land, while so much time passed here? And what is this Dejen? Shadow-form? You speak in riddles!"
"It is my habit to speak often in riddles, and I said that few of you would understand." She murmured with a slight sigh. "While I will leave it mostly unexplained, Frodo, at least, ought to know. So I will explain some of what I have said – but only those things that he needs to know or does not already understand. The Dejen is the foundation of my people, from it comes all our power. I need not explain shadow-form, Frodo knows of it already.
"Aslan is known in Arda as Illuvatar, and who can say where his country is? Beyond the reaches of time and space, that is the best answer I can give, though I doubt it is entirely accurate.
"And as for the question of time – time differs between worlds. It is twisted and bent, and passes at different paces. That the amount of time passed was different in the two lands is no great thing."
Elrond announced that he was satisfied with her answer, and asked that they get back to the matter at hand. Dismissing the other three hobbits with a stern look he said, "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."
Adara took a seat beside her brother and watched the remainder of the council. The redhead, whom Aragorn told her was named Boromir, spouted a bunch of nonsense about how the Steward of Gondor, who happened to be his father, was protecting all the rest of Arda by the blood of the Gondorians. (Every Ranger present moved impatiently when he said that; they knew better than any other that Gondor only stopped the evil at one crossing of the river; they dealt with the rest of the overflow.) Boromir begged the council to entrust the Ring to him, that he might carry it to Gondor, as a weapon against its maker.
After listening for quite some time, Aragorn finally cried out, "You cannot wield it! None of us can!" Then a little calmer, "The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master!"
"And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" Boromir asked caustically.
"More than you do, apparently." Adara muttered under her breath. Aragorn gave her a look, but then smiled slightly.
"This is no mere Ranger." An elf across the way leapt to his feet in response to Boromir's snub. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."
"This… is Isildur's heir?"
"And heir to the throne of Gondor."
{"Sit down, Legolas.} Aragorn requested quietly. Reluctantly, the elf did so. Adara gave Aragorn a questioning look and he murmured to her, {"Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. Son of King Thranduil."}
{"Ah. I seem to have missed the introductions."}
{"You did. But Legolas and I are friends of old."}
{"Oh."}
As Aragorn explained the identity of the elf, an old man with a long grey beard was speaking. Adara did not know him. "Aragorn is right. We cannot use it."
"There is only one way." Elrond said grimly. "The Ring must be destroyed."
"Then what are we waiting for?" A red bearded dwarf growled, jumping up and pulling out his axe. He swung it down toward the Ring with all his strength. Adara knew what would happen – his axe would shatter, and the Ring would be unharmed.
In that instant Aragorn looked to her, his eyes confirming her in what she was about to do, and she was on her feet. As the dwarf's axe was reached the Ring and shattered, she sent a burst of wind from her hands that sent him to the ground – shaken, but otherwise unharmed. She also sent a swirl of wind around the pedestal the Ring was on, preventing the broken pieces of the axe from flying all directions like shrapnel, and harming random members of the council.
When the shrapnel settled to the ground Adara allowed the wind to drop. She took her seat again, ignoring the looks from the rest of the council.
"Thank you, Hiljar." Elrond said calmly. Then he turned to the dwarf, not leaving any time for questioning. "The Ring can not be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft we here possess. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. One of you must do this."
Dead silence.
Does he really expect someone to jump up yelling, "Pick me!" and waving his arms in the air?
"One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, and the great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with smoke and ash. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly." Boromir said hopelessly, but with an underlying hint of desperation in his voice.
"Have you heard nothing that Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!" Legolas was on his feet again.
He's about as hotheaded as Boromir, in his own way. Uncommon for an elf…
"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" Gimli challenged angrily.
"And what if we fail?" Boromir cried. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"
"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!" Gimli shouted at Legolas. That did it – the feather that broke the camel's back. The council erupted; chaos ensued. Everyone was on his feet. Legolas was holding back his Mirkwood kin from attacking the dwarf that had just insulted their leader, the dwarves were all bunched up supporting Gimli and hollering at the elves, and the men from Gondor were just shouting at anyone and everyone, as far as Adara could tell. She was only able to actually distinguish four words amid the noise; "Never trust an elf!" She guessed she was probably hearing Gimli. Only Adara, Aragorn, Elrond, and Frodo were still sitting; the old man, who she guessed was more than he appeared as he had an air of magic about him, had stood to try and break up the fights. He wasn't having much success.
Suddenly Frodo leapt to his feet. "I will take it!" He cried. No one heard him. He glanced at Adara. She stood.
Lifting a chain that was hidden in her clothes she revealed a little silver whistle, shaped like a curious flute. A gift from Tumnus, long ago, that she had happened to be wearing the day she came to Arda. Although she hadn't used it in years, since months before she left Astî, it still rang clear. Everyone turned at the sharp, shrill note. Aragorn, sitting beside her, muttered, {"You might have warned me to cover my ears."}
Adara ignored him and faced Gimli. "You will be dead before you see the Ring in the hands of an elf. Are you willing to carry it then?" She paused, waiting for a response. When she received none, she turned on Boromir.
"It is folly? Perhaps so. No one said there was great chance of success. But can you suggest a better way?" He did not answer.
"You fight and you bicker… Children! That is what you sound like! Do you not see? This is your great weakness! This is Sauron's great joy!
"A fortress is built of individual stones, put together, working together. Each single stone can do nothing more than trip the enemy. Only together are they any good. What wall will keep out a host when it lies breached in two? And you are stones – scattered about in your own factions, bickering amongst your different peoples, even among your own peoples.
"These are the ones who will save Arda, who will shatter the strength of Sauron, and stem the rising tide? That is folly, to think that any one of you, person or people, can do it alone. Together you must stand, or I say to you now that one by one you will fall.
"While you bicker; each one declaring that another should not be permitted to do this yet no one offering himself, one with more courage than any of you has risen to the task. And you are so caught up in yourselves that you did not even hear him."
Having finished her rebuke, she turned to Frodo. "I think they will hear now."
The hobbit visibly plucked up his tremulous courage. "I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though… I do not know the way."
"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear." The old man said gently, stepping up to Frodo.
Aragorn stood. "If by my life or death I can help you, I will." He knelt to the hobbit. "You have my sword."
"And you have my bow." Legolas said, stepping up.
"And my axe." Gimli growled, not about to be outdone by an elf.
Did he hear nothing of what I just said?
"You carry the fate of us all little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, Gondor will see it done." Boromir joined the group. Adara wasn't sure whether to be alarmed or pleased that he had stepped up, but she didn't have time to think about it because at that moment Sam burst into the council.
"Ay! Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me."
"Indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is invited to a secret council, and you are not." Elrond said mildly, amusement on his usually stern face.
"Hey, we're coming too!" Merry and Pippin shouted.
"You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us." Merry finished.
"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission… quest… thing." Pippin added decisively.
"Well that rules you out, Pip." Merry whispered to his friend, who scowled at him.
"Nine companions…" Elrond said, then looked to Adara. "Daughter of Anil. Will you go on this quest?"
After Boromir volunteered, Adara had been struggling. Fortunately, it had gone unnoticed by all, even Aragorn, and she guessed she had the other three hobbits to thank for that. The Ring was trying to get to her, trying to draw out her second-form so that it could control her. She could hear it whispering in her mind, although she tried to shut it out, tried to block its voice.
Aslan help me…
When Elrond addressed her, the entire council turned to Adara. To their absolute surprise, she was pale, and visibly trembling. She completely ignored everyone; actually, she barely even heard the ellon. She had her eyes closed and was focused on one thing, the Ring. It was trying to take her mind.
Aslan help me!
She prayed again, begging the Lion for strength. And he gave it. But when the Ring felt her resolve renewed and its hold on her mind slipping, it suddenly spoke aloud in the tongue of the Amator. Happily, it was a tongue that of those present, only Adara understood.
["Take me. You cannot fight forever. You will obey me. Put out your hand, take me, bring me to my master!"]
["I serve the Lion, and no one else. Only the word of Aslan will I obey. Be silent, accursed! And try me no more. Your chance is gone. Be silent."] She said calmly, but the strength of the Lion could be heard in her voice. After a moment, she turned to Elrond.
"Nine companions. I will not join in. This thing sees me as a weakness, and tries to draw me, because it does not know my race. Ordinarily such a draw would have little effect, but since it is not of my world I do not know if I can resist it – save through trial and error. Which is clearly not a good idea. Therefore I will remain as far from it as I can until I have spoken with Aslan again."
With that, Adara crossed the circle to Aragorn's side and said quietly, "Fare you well, brother. You know how to contact me?"
He nodded, and took her arm, his hand clasped about her wrist and her hand about his in the usual Ranger greeting/farewell. "Where do you go?"
"The wilds. Listen for my voice on the winds, and call me if you have need. I will bid Arwen goodbye ere I go."
"Go in peace then, sister. May the days that greet you be fair."
With that he released her arm, and she turned and left the council.
So... Y'all are probably up in arms because I let you think that Adara was dead... I will point out that I never said she was dead. It was a possibility, and a logical conclusion.
blue mountain fairy - I told you that she would not be resurrected, and I want to reiterate it - that is one hundred percent true. When she actually dies, she actually dies. She just hasn't quite died yet. :)