All day, every day, for at least a week the elves were arguing. Constantly. Without rest. So much so that they had often threatened to tip the boat over in their heated quarrel.

Gimli sat in the front of the canoe, chin in his hands as he gazed sulkily over the water and to the others in front of him. It was bad enough that he had to get in a boat, on such a swiftly moving river too, but it was even worse that Legolas didn't seem to be paying much attention to rowing or keeping the canoe adrift.

No, the durned Elf was focused on yelling at his kinsman in their stupid language, and Gimli, to relieve his boredom and apprehension of the swirling water beneath him, wanted to know what it was about.

So he turned around. "What are you two arguing about? Can you at least speak in a language I can understand?"

Aragorn, who understood the elves' shouting perfectly, called back, "I don't think you want them to, Gimli!"

The dwarf sighed. Surely, he understood a quarrel, but to go on and on…it was unlike them. Even for an Elf.

So when dusk finally came and the Fellowship rowed to the shore to camp for the night, Gimli hoped against hope that the Elves would either come to an agreement or else give up.

Unfortunately his wishes were not quite granted, though circumstances did allow for them to grow silent.


It was pitch black, but the elves were able to make out the shore, barely.

Gilrael looked at the very dark sky. That's strange, she thought. Usually it is not this dark, and I can see perfectly. Even in Moria I could see better than this.

She and Legolas grudgingly worked together to make sure the canoes landed on shore safely. They also managed to cooperate when helping to set up camp among some tall cliffs and rocks.

But then, a gnawing feeling of darkness swept over her. Unconsciously, she found herself glancing in Legolas' direction, and his eyes were likewise riveted on her. He nodded curtly, and the feeling in Gilrael's stomach lurched. They were right.

The Elves quickly grabbed their bows and scaled the cliff. Gilrael's senses were on high alert. She couldn't see anything, but she could hear and see well. A creature very large and evil was quickly approaching.

Everything happened so quickly that Gilrael couldn't register it, for suddenly, a shrill shriek pierced the night air as the cliff shook with the force of a heavy weight, and then there was a chilling hissing sound followed by another, more ominous shriek. Then all was still, except for the scrambling of Aragorn and Gimli up the cliff.

The former wielded a brightly flickering torch, which he waved over the crest of the hill. There lay a Fell Beast, an arrow through its forehead, and a Nazgul, similarly slain.

"By Eru, Legolas, how did you do that?" Aragorn breathed as they observed the ghastly scene.

"Quite a mighty shot in the dark, I'd say," Gimli remarked.

Legolas grunted something in reply, but he was in no mood for a celebration. After literally ignoring Gilrael, he headed back down the cliff.

The elleth clenched her teeth. What about him was so irritating? She had already resigned herself that she would not – could not – love him anymore, so the hurricane of emotions that resulted might have instigated what happened next.

What happened next was a full-on, blown out fight between Gilrael and Legolas, which was thankfully not a physical one.

I will not record the exact words of their entire argument, since they will likely lower your respect for both of them, but I will say, for the sake of truth, that amongst their quarrelling Gilrael accused Legolas of being a haughty, arrogant, and stupid traitor, while he fired back with calling her a foolish, narrow-minded racist.

The fighting grew on and on, the Fellowship watching in horror though most could not understand the Sindarin. The one who could understand them, Aragorn, winced in pain at every word. Legolas was his best friend, ever since he was a small child, and Gilrael had taught him how to use a sword. Aragorn also knew that Legolas and Gilrael were inseparable friends, so whatever had caused them to fight must have been incredibly significant.

Eventually, Legolas pleaded, "Come, Gilrael! We can figure this out! We can talk it out!"

Gilrael snorted. "Oh really? Like, talk it out like we're doing now?"

Legolas retorted, "Well at least I'm trying to come to a solution, unlike you, who is too stubborn and thick headed to mind it!"

Gilrael blazed. "Me? Look at you, you traitor to elven kind! Running off and making friends with dwarves!"

Suddenly, Frodo sprang up. The others tried to stop him, but the hobbit swiftly ran toward the elves. He undid the chain that held the Ring, and dangled it in front of them. Instantly, the Elves quieted.

Frodo gasped, "Take it! Just take it! I know you're arguing about it, and you want it. Well, I'm giving it to you, both of you. So stop arguing!"

The Elves were shocked. Legolas quickly took a step back. "No, Frodo. That's not what we were arguing about. And I would never take it."

But Gilrael stood and stared at the ring, transfixed.

It seemed like it was calling to her, Take me, do not fear. Take me!

Aragorn yelled, "Gilrael! Step back!"

But she didn't hear him.

Suddenly, her vision swirled as she looked at the ring. She was, seemingly, no longer on the shores of the Anduin, but was back in Mordor, in Barad Dur, Sauron's tower.

He was grinning evilly at her, lounging on his black throne. Yes, he was handsome, but in a wicked way. The elf maiden's whole body was jolting with invisible fiery bolts of agony, struggling with the temptation of the Ring.

Gilrael gasped, "Sauron! Stop this pain! Stop it!"

Sauron suggested, "If you take the ring, it will stop."

Gilrael screamed, "N-Never!"

Sauron leaned forward, orange eyes almost full of concern. "Gilrael, you must take it! You know you can! You can easily defeat the whole Fellowship should they turn against you, with the spells that you know. Take the Ring, Gilrael! It's the only way."

She managed to shake her head. "NO! I will never betray the Fellowship!"

Sauron sprang from his throne. He grasped her arm and supported her from falling. He pleaded, "Gilrael, please, please, please take the Ring! Once you have it, you can come back here, to Mordor. You can be my queen, and together, we will rule Middle Earth!"

Gilrael's whole body shook. "Make it stop! Make it go away!"

Sauron pulled her close. "Just take the Ring, Gilrael. Take it, and you will be free of this pain, your agony."

Gilrael's will started to falter. The pain was increasingly great, and her arm burned from where Sauron touched her.

She started for the Ring, dangling mid-air.

Sauron encouraged her. "Yes, yes! Forget the Fellowship. Forget Frodo. Forget Aragorn. Forget Legolas."

But that was his mistake. Deep down, in her heart, no matter how much she had resolved not to, no matter how much she forced herself not to, Gilrael truly did care for the prince.

And she started to hear a small, desperate voice in her head. Legolas' voice. "Gilrael, fight it! Ilya nauva mára." Everything will be alright.

But the pain, the intense pain. Her mind was clouded. It commanded her body to do anything to get rid of that agony. Her will crumbled. She drew her sword and reached for the Ring. But an invisible force drew her away from the Dark Lord's embrace. A flash of silver, white light surrounded her. Immediately, the vision shattered.

She was back in front of Frodo, who had been pushed to the side by Aragorn when Gilrael drew her sword. Legolas held her arms, but she collapsed to the ground, her form still trembling. Boromir rushed forward. Gilrael felt the pain slowly leave her, which was finally completely gone. She grasped the two hands offered to her, and shakily stood.

Boromir had picked up her sword, and now gave it back to her. She sheathed it, and took a deep breath.

The hobbits stood protectively in front of Frodo, with Aragorn gazing at her with a stern look. Everyone was otherwise in complete shock.

Gilrael pushed Legolas' arms from her shoulders. Tears quickly formed in her eyes. "What have I done? What have I done? Frodo…"

Then she sprinted into the forest after grabbing her bow, tears flowing quickly.


As Aragorn ordered the Fellowship to settle down for the night, he approached a stone-still Legolas.

"She has a problem, Legolas." He spoke in Sindarin. "She needs love, care. She had no parents to love her as she was being raised. No mentors to love her. You can be none of those, but you can –"

"Be her friend," the Elf finished with determination. "She will be difficult, but I will win."

Then he started to run towards the forest, but Gimli held him back. "Are you sure it's the best idea, laddie? I should think she doesn't want to see anyone."

Legolas brushed the dwarf aside gently. "Yes, Gimli, she doesn't want to see most people. But right now, the only person she needs is me. Think how terrible she feels right now! She was just about to take the Ring! I saw her reach for it."

Aragorn looked to the forest. "Go, Legolas. I will watch over the others this night."

With that, the Sinda took off into the forest, but unbeknownst to all, Boromir also slipped away.


Gilrael raced through the forest. After the Nazgul had been slain, a full moon shone, lighting up the forest, and making it very easy for her to navigate. Gilrael rarely cried, but her nerves were totally spent from the Nazgul attack, the fight with Legolas, and ultimately, Sauron's torture. And to think she almost took the Ring!

She found a very tall pine tree, and quickly climbed it. She settled in the branches and cried softly, still alert to any danger that may linger in the forest.


Legolas sprinted through the forest. He looked around intently, but to his surprise he found no trace of Gilrael. He didn't dare call her name, for fear an enemy lurking in the forest may hear him.

Usually, the prince found hidden things in forests easily, since he was a wood elf. Unfortunately, Gilrael was also taught by the Silvan elves, and therefore was a wood elf as well.

Suddenly, Legolas' keen ears caught a faint, rustling noise. Something walking on two legs was rambling through the forest. Legolas quickly nocked an arrow and quietly sprinted toward the sound. Whatever it was, he had to know.


Gilrael was crying, when she heard a distinct, loud sound of something walking, and the clank of armour. She instantly sucked up her tears, and peered down. Sure enough, something was there, but she couldn't see it very well. It was camouflaged.

She swiftly jumped down soundlessly, nocked an arrow, and placed it in front of the creature's head. It reared back, but another arrow was pointed at its back. Legolas.

The person quickly lifted off the cloak. Gilrael lowered her bow. It was Boromir. The Man of Gondor gasped, "You both almost gave me a heart attack! I was looking for you, Gilrael, and all of a sudden- whoosh! Arrow, in my face, and in my back!" The elves slowly put their arrows back.

Gilrael demanded, "Why were you looking for me? You are supposed to be at the camp."

Legolas gently held her arm. "Stille nu, Gilrael. Your nerves are already spent." Quiet now, Gilrael.

He turned to Boromir. "Please go back to camp, Boromir."

The man glanced at Gilrael. "But I came to ask after you. Will you be alright, Gilrael?"

She nodded curtly. "Of course."

The man turned to leave, but Gilrael suddenly grabbed his arm. He looked at her as she quickly advised, "Remember, never underestimate the power of the Ring. It tempts you when you are weakest."

She let him go, and after a moment of hesitation, the man left.

Legolas turned to Gilrael. "Come, I hear a stream up ahead. It would soothe you better listening to it."

They walked to the stream, Gilrael sobbing into Legolas' arm. They climbed a large boulder near the stream, and sat. Gilrael started shaking again. Legolas quickly took hold of her hands. He looked at her worriedly. "Gilrael! Your hands are blistering and red!"

The Sinda took off her archery braces on her forearms and rolled up her sleeves. He gasped. "Your arms are red and blistered as well!"

Gilrael muttered, "Must be from when Sauron held my arm and lifted me up."

Legolas cupped his hands with water and splashed it on her arms, but it didn't help. A few moments later, Gilrael whispered, "I am so sorry." She fainted.

Quickly, Legolas sprang into action. He gently placed her head on the rock, and took out her box of athelas leaves. He dipped them in the water, rubbed them into a paste, and slathered it onto Gilrael's arms and hands while chanting an elvish healing spell.

Legolas was a warrior, which meant he practically never healed anyone, but spent his time killing orcs. Now, however, was an emergency, and it would take too long to get Aragorn. Luckily, his father had taught him some healing spells.

After a few moments, Gilrael gasped and slowly managed to sit up. Legolas quickly supported her, and wrapped his arms around her shoulder to keep her from falling. She whispered, "Thank you, Legolas. I feel much better."

Legolas lifted her up, and carried her. "I need to take you to Aragorn. He knows how to heal much more than I do."

Gilrael pushed him and slipped out of his arms. "That won't be needed. I am perfectly fine."

Legolas wasn't so sure. "Are you certain? Sauron harmed you painfully, although how he did it, I do not know."

"I'm certain." She sat down pointedly, and he seated himself in front of her.

The elleth sighed. "Sauron has many evil spells that he uses to talk to you through your mind. He is able to draw you in a trance, making it seem like you are wherever he wants you to be. His touch is fiery if you are not on his side, but otherwise is normal. That is probably why my arms are, or were, burnt." She looked down, and her arms were only light red.

Legolas asked, "Do you know how to do those spells?"

Gilrael looked at him. "I-I suppose I do, actually. I've never tried it before though. It just seemed too powerful."

They were quiet for a moment when Legolas bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Gilrael."

She glanced at him. "What for?"

"I yelled at you and insulted you. I don't know what came over me, and I am deeply sorry."

Gilrael looked away. "You shouldn't be. It was my fault. I started it."

"But surely you are not to blame. Whatever conflict you are fighting must have created such utter turmoil inside that you couldn't help yourself. I, on the other hand, should have been silent and there for you. A friend. Maybe I did spend too much time with Gim-"

"No, Legolas, that's not true."

The Sinda stared at her in astonishment. The elleth sighed. "I should not and will not blame the dwarf for my troubles. He did nothing to me, and I should not hold a grudge against his entire race for what a handful did to me."

She glanced at the ellon, hesitating as she wondered if her choice was the right one. "L-Legolas, I-I don't hate you. I want…I want to be with you again. I want to be your…friend, again. Can you forgive me?"

Legolas wrapped his arms around her shoulders, kissing her soft hair. "I already have, mellon."

She had said friend, not love, but Legolas didn't mind. If he was successful – and he would be successful – that would eventually change. One day she would declare her love back to him, and that was a day Legolas looked forward to, willing to face all hardships in order to live it.

The next morning, as the Elves walked into the camp, they were peppered with questions from all sides. Fortunately, they were spared from answering them as Aragorn urged them all to pack up so they could get an early start off.

But Frodo could not shake the feeling that something was watching him. The Ring grew heavy, and he shuddered as he remembered Gilrael's eyes the previous night. They were dripping with want and pain, and he felt powerless under that almost uncontrollable look in her gaze.

Alas, as he spared a glance at the elleth, nothing was amiss. She was smiling and talking peacefully with both Legolas and Gimli. Frodo glanced to the bushes lining the banks of the Anduin and gasped. A shining pair of green eyes met his, then the creature darted back into the woods. Frodo could have sworn it was an Elf.


Ithiriel wore a hooded cloak for two reasons: one, to shield her fair elven face, and two, to hide her pointed elven ears. But as she rode into Edoras, it also served to elevate the people's interest in her horse rather than her.

Gwendol had been a gift from the king of Rohan many centuries ago, and overtime she had trained it to become just as proficient as any other elven horse, meaning it lived for lengthy amounts of time and followed her commands by voice.

So it was that the people of Rohan gazed with curiosity at the stranger on such a fine horse, and did not prevent her from entering. Besides, she gave off an aura of power like she knew what she was doing, and that usually helped.

Usually.

Because Grima was 'not intimidated in the least.'

"I don't know who you are," he continued haughtily, "but you certainly have no permission to be here and so you will leave."

Ithiriel nodded towards the king, who was slumped against the throne, not yet fully taken over by Grima's witchcraft, but slowly succumbing to it.

"What does my lord Theoden king say?"

The man shifted slightly, peering at her through weary, dim eyes.

"I…cannot…see you," he croaked, "but…her voice…is fair. Let her…speak."

Grima rolled his eyes, but settled to ask, "Fine then. Who are you?"

"I am known as the Silver Hope to most men, but as Ithiluven to those who care enough to know me."

Grima sniffed. "The name stinks of Elf."

"I do believe that was rude to say to a lady's face."

The servant of Saruman curled his lips in a wicked grin. "Rude, perhaps, for a gentleman, but I am no gentleman. I have, however, heard of you, this Silver Hope. The Gondorians love you."

Ithiriel arched an eyebrow. "You say that with contempt."

"Of course I do. I know that you are no Elf. You are just a plain, meddling woman in disguise, pretending to know things, when you are really quite weak and defenceless. Which is why you dare not show your ugly face. Those gullible Gondorians, however, have probably eaten up your story of being a mighty Elf who would stoop down to help us lowly Men."

Ithiriel bristled, but she made no remark.

Grima grinned. "Ah, I see I am right. Well then. What brings you here?"

"I am here because I know who you are, Grima Wormtongue."

The man appeared startled for a moment as she continued, "I know for whom you work, and I know what you are doing to the king."

She spared him a pitying glance before staring sharply at Grima. "And you would do well to leave your master."

Grima snorted. "Now why would I do that? Listen to a mere woman?"

Ithiriel leaned into his face. She knew hers was darkened except for her piercing blue eyes, and she pored all of her anger and hatred into her gaze.

"I am no mere woman, you understand? Have you heard of the Rangers?"

Grima stepped back, shaking slightly. "Why yes, of course. They ride around in the North and never come down here, and last I heard they were cursed."

"Leave Edoras, Grima. Become the noble man you once were. You have children, a wife, who are afraid to see you because of what you have become. Of what Saruman –"

"Do not speak his name," Grima hissed angrily. "And do not speak to me of my…my family. You know nothing of them! You bluff!"

"I assure you, I know them very well," Ithiriel replied smoothly. "They love you very much, but they will be terrified to see this version of you."

"Lies!"

"I'm afraid not. Saruman has corrupted you into a wheedling slave, and if you choose to follow his commands, I warn you that you will get no reward. No money. Saruman has a bad habit of leaving debts unpaid."

Grima suddenly sprang forward in rage, screaming as he wielded a short knife and yelled at the guards to bind her.

But the guards were not quite willing to attack a woman, albeit one who was defending herself against the royal advisor very skilfully. As a result, Ithiriel was able to slip out of the halls of Edoras unharmed, but she mounted Gwendol with a heavy heart. Even more so as her Ring told her of what was happening on the banks of the Anduin.