Aragorn was anxious to leave Lorien the next morning. Galadriel lined up the Fellowship, but told Frodo to go stand off elsewhere. Sev joined him despite Galadriel's wary glance at her. She actually told Sev to remain with the rest, but Frodo took Sev's hand and pulled her with him.

She presented gifts to most of the Fellowship, but when she got to Gimli Sev leaped forward and offered her knife, as well as a wooden box she had brought. Then, with Galadriel's blessing, she stood up high and neatly severed three hairs and gently curled them into the wooden box.

Galadriel brought them away from the rest of the Fellowship before she presented Sev with a mithril dagger and an Elvish rope. Then she turned to Frodo, offering him a glass vial.

"The Light of Earendil," she said reverently, "our most beloved star." She kissed the top of Frodo's head; it surprised him, admittedly. When Sev had done it, it was warm and soft. Galadriel was rather formal and conservative, relatively speaking. He glanced at Sev, wondering when she might do it again. "Let it be a light for you," Galadriel continued, "when all other lights go out."

He did not turn away from Sev. "All of them?"

Galadriel confirmed that. Sev bowed to the Enchantress, and received a kiss to her head as well. They immediately departed for the canoes; Frodo, Sev, and Aragorn took one.

They traveled the fogged rivers all that day until nightfall. When they set up that night, Sev vanished immediately. But she was not gone long, while Frodo situated himself to prepare for sleep. She sat near where Aragorn and Boromir were talking in harsh whispers, but then sighed and fell to her cloak.

Frodo was shaken out of his present thoughts by Sam. He didn't turn around, but jolted back to reality. Sev glanced at him and laid down, facing away.

"Mr. Frodo, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Sam," he said, exhausted.

"I know something's wrong," Sam insisted. "You haven't eaten all day, and you aren't sleeping! Please, Mr. Frodo; I want to help."

Frodo's eyes settled on Sev. She was shivering. Sam couldn't help; Sam didn't know. Frodo wished beyond anything that Sam could be there for him . . . but it was not in the same way Sev could.

He turned to glance at Sam, who had knelt beside him with a pleading expression. "You can't help me this time, Sam," he said, defeated. He turned away, hoping Sam would go and rest before Frodo could hurt him anymore . . . or until Frodo could be hurt anymore.

Sam wished him a good night and departed for his cloak. Out of the corner of his eye, Frodo saw Sev flip over, but when he turned, she was again staring into the opposite distance. She had been watching him, he realized.

"Sev?"

She didn't face him. "You don't need help?" She shivered again.

Frodo reached for her . . . then stopped. He sighed. "No. I just know Sam can't help me. And there was no other real way to tell him."

Finally Sev turned to him. "You would deny him the ability to help?" She had an edge, something deeper, to her voice. Frodo shook his head; "He can't, Sev. You must see that."

He tapped the ground beside him, hoping she could come and sit down. She did so, but brought her cloak with her, slipping it off of her. She laid it across him, then sidled up to his arm. He draped it over her shoulders initially.

"He can't help, but if he could, would you let him?" she asked.

Frodo sank just a little bit. He wished Sam could help. "Of course I would," he said. "I would love it if he could help. But you heard Galadriel."

Sev's expression fell, and she nodded.

"And I heard you," he said. As he had predicted, she glanced up, desperation and hope filling her eyes as she studied him. "You said you knew pain, Sev," he continued. "More than I ever could. And Lady Galadriel, she said that you could help, that you could understand."

Sev's head laid on his shoulder. He wondered if she needed to rest, if she would just stay there as long as Frodo had the capacity to sit there awake. Her voice startled him. The peace of her warm head against his shoulder fizzled for a moment as she began to speak, but settled right back after the breach of silence had passed.

"Fighting for something you don't entirely understand . . . that needs to be done but somehow doesn't really add up to the pain it causes you. Something that is mandatory, a duty you have that you can't uphold because you don't believe in it. All right, so you believe in it, but not its benefits." She paused, then continued. "Every day hacks away at your heart because where you are going will save all but yourself. You don't see what's worth fighting for because everything huge is fighting against you, and you live with the pain. No one understands; no one gets it! Everyone around you says, 'Oh, I know the pain. Oh, I can help.' And you take what you can get, but really, no one suffers so much. No one wants every day to end just so the next one can end too."

She stopped abruptly after her speech. Frodo listened to her words fading on the air; he hadn't felt all of it yet, but it was becoming what she described. In fact, he could feel that . . . the need for one day to end just so the next could as well. That's what kept him awake, was worrying about slipping farther into that feeling.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Frodo's eyes widened with shock. "Sev . . . that's it," was all he said. Then he glanced at her face. Her head felt so warm. He tilted her face up to look at him and kissed her forehead. The unnatural warmth flowed through his core until his lips left her.~

"I'm never getting any sleep out here," Sev said, her voice deepened. "Anywhere I lie, there's a great root sticking into my back."

Frodo grinned and laid down. Sev took her cloak back, but draped his own over him. "Just imagine you're back in an Elvish bed, with an angelic mattress, and ten lovely feather pillows," he said, trying not to laugh.

Sev laughed. "Good night," she said. Then her hand settled against his shoulder, rubbing gently. His eyes rolled shut at the warmth that spread there. "I know it's hard, Frodo. Hard to wake up, hard to have a night's rest because the next day will be hard anyway. And a lifetime looks impossible, but I promise things look up." She hesitated, letting her hand to his face. It traveled through his hair, only to come back to his cheek. "I promise."

He rolled over to face her. "What do you mean?"

She turned light gray. "That pain I was talking about. It comes and goes, in huge periods of time . . . it fluctuates." She departed with her own cloak, laying down a few yards away. "It helps to have someone who understands."

"Did you ever give up on life?" He knew from her journal that she couldn't kill herself unless she waited for her blood to drain away.

"A thousand times," she replied, but she sounded like she had more to say. Frodo remained perfectly still, waiting for what seemed like an eternity until a whisper pierced the air.

"Until I met you."

He slept like he never had before.

They rowed for endless hours the next day. Sev kept glancing to the banks of the river, and Frodo finally laid a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and turned back to face him.

"Sev?"

She did not respond, for Aragorn pulled off to the bank right away. Sev leaped out to find firewood as Gimli began said fire. Frodo walked after her, but she vanished too quickly, slinking into the woods like she always had. So Frodo decided now would be the time to gain the energy before going to Mordor.

Boromir was gathering wood as well, and approached him soon after he began walking.

"No one should be out alone, much less you," he said cautiously.

Frodo's eyes flickered about, watching for Sev. "I'm not alone, Boromir."

"I know why you seek solitude." Despite Frodo's objections, Boromir ranted about how the Ring was causing him more pain, and how it ought to be used as a weapon against Sauron.

Frodo's heart hammered against his chest. Finally it coughed out: "What you say I would think wisdom but for the warning in my heart." A slight heat dotted against him. Sev was nearby somewhere.

"I only ask for the chance to save my people!" Boromir shouted, throwing his pile of wood on the ground.

Frodo backed away, searching frantically for Sev. She'd have no trouble pulling a knife against Boromir at this point. "You are not yourself."

Finally Sev emerged from a nearby bush, her pile of firewood slapping against the ground as she leaped out. "Frodo!"

Her name was nearly out of his mouth when Boromir attacked him, threatening to take the Ring. He scrambled away, only to fall beneath Boromir's hands. He grappled for the Ring, and Sev's knife hissed over Boromir. The warrior only flinched for a moment; then Sev tackled him from behind. It distracted Boromir long enough for Frodo to slip the Ring over his finger and dash away from Boromir.

He could hear Boromir's voice ringing through the forest as he ran, farther and farther away. Finally he ascended a stone stairway, racing to the top. He settled, exhausted, against a pillar . . . until the Eye approached him. It burned and seethed.

I see you, it cracked.

Frodo stood, yanking the Ring from his finger. He tumbled over the stone, falling from the height of the structure he had run up from and collapsing in a heap at its base. He gasped as he stood. Then he swallowed. Now that Sev was gone and Boromir's danger had escalated, he had to go to Mordor alone. He hadn't thought he could leave her.

This time he had no choice but to lose her.

He heard heavy footsteps behind him, and he turned. "Frodo?" Aragorn asked.

Frodo scrambled away, but Aragorn stopped him.

"Boromir tried to take it," Frodo explained carefully. Aragorn knelt before him, and Frodo shrank away minimally before producing the Ring. "Would you destroy it?"

Aragorn stared down at the Ring, enchantment fighting conviction. He reached for the Ring, and Frodo didn't move. Then he closed Frodo's fingers over the Ring and stared up into the hobbit's eyes. Frodo wondered if that would be the last time he saw Aragorn.

"I would have gone with you to the end," Aragorn said.

Frodo nodded to him. His respect for the man had only ever increased. "Look after the others. Especially Sam; he won't understand." Then he swallowed. "And Sev—," he couldn't finish.

"Will be crushed," Aragorn said, standing. Frodo's eyes slipped closed. She had been so intent on being there for him, and she could have been if Frodo didn't love her enough to leave her alive and safe in the hands of Aragorn. "She will follow you."

Frodo opened his mouth to respond, but Aragorn backed away from him. Frodo glanced down, and Sting caught his eye. He unsheathed the sword but an inch; it glowed blue. Aragorn spun around. Orcs were pouring from the woods ahead of them.

"Run, Frodo," Aragorn said, unsheathing his sword. When Frodo didn't move, Aragorn became urgent. "Run!"

Frodo turned and raced away. He hoped Aragorn could handle himself. He didn't trust anyone else of the Fellowship to take care of Sev. As he ran, he hoped beyond anything that she was safe right then.

He ducked behind trees to hide, and finally pulled behind one he could catch his breath by. He could hear the crunch of armor behind him.

Then he saw Sam, Merry, and Pippin hiding under a log, staring at him. His eyes grew wide as Merry's brows lowered. He could see his mouth move, form the words "He's leaving." They all turned to look at the orcs . . . and then Sev joined them. They looked back to Frodo, then to the orcs that were nearing quickly.

Internally Frodo begged them not to. This was too soon; Sev couldn't. They couldn't. It was too much.

Merry laid a hand on Sev's shoulder, then stood, waving his arms frantically. "Hey! We're over here!" Pippin joined him, and soon the orcs were chasing them. They raced down the hill.

Frodo remained until he knew it was too dangerous. Sam would take care of Sev, possibly. He was running out of hope fast. He sprang from his position by the tree and raced away.

He only slowed when he reached the shore, the canoe open wide for him to accept his fate. He swallowed, staring at it. Then he produced the Ring from his pocket, wondering how he'd gotten himself into this.

Then he remembered: he hadn't. It had fallen to his hands. He could have done nothing, and yet he wished he could have done everything.

He could hear a voice from days ago. I wish the Ring had never come to me. Tears pricked his eyes and slid down his cheeks. I wish none of this had happened!

Another voice joined him. So do all who wish to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. Gandalf only spurred more tears.

And Sev finally broke it all, soothing and hurting him. The only decision left to you left to you is what to do with the opportunities you've been given. Her hand was gentle against the top of his head, and he leaned into it wistfully. If one of them or both didn't make it, he would never feel her hands again. And you've made the right decision . . . saving the world like a knight on a quest.

He straightened. If he wanted to see her again he had to make it through this. Conviction set, decision made (right according to her), he shoved the canoe into the water and leaped inside, grabbing one of the paddles right off.

"Frodo!" He heard Sev behind him. For a moment his hopes peered anxiously over his shoulder, but he shoved them down. He couldn't let her. "Frodo!"

"No, Sev." But when he turned, she charged into the river, sloshing through the water towards him.

"Go back, Sev!" He paused as he watched her, shoving through the water hard as she was. "I'm going to Mordor alone!" Even if he wanted her to come.

"You wouldn't last two minutes, you devil! You need people of intelligence on this mission—suicidal—thing!"

Oh, he loved her . . . but that was exactly why she needed to stay behind. "That's not encouraging," he said finally.

"Well, you're not supposed to go by yourself!"

Then he realized that if she drowned leaving her behind would be worse than taking her with. "But Sev, you can't swim!"

She looked incredulous. "Then come back and get me!" She was slipping fast. "Besides, now's a good time to lear—!" Then her head fell, and she sputtered, gasping, straining to stay above the water level.

"Sev!"

Then she vanished.

Frodo scrambled to the side of the canoe. "Sev!" When she did not emerge, he turned the canoe quickly. He located her fast; her bush of hair drifted in the water like bloodied kelp. Her eyes were closed, and he could see blackness fading from her neck to spread into the water. He grabbed her hand, and she held it back. She gasped as she emerged, and he pulled her up into the canoe.

Sev got onto her knees. Her hair swamped everything from her forehead to waist. "I made a promise, Frodo Baggins," she said, voice muffled. Frodo brought his hands to her face, laying all of her hair behind her shoulders. "A promise! I'll never leave you, Frodo, because you never left me." His hands laid on her face, and she swallowed against them. "I'll never leave."

Frodo struggled for a moment, unsure if he was more glad she was coming or terrified for her life. If he wanted her safe or by his side. If he wanted to kiss her or just hold her. He did not know. "Oh, Sev." He pulled her into his arms, and her warmth counteracted the water covering her. He could not let go; she'd slip away again if he did.

"Come, Frodo," she said finally, grabbing an oar. He sat behind her, and they both rowed. They reached the Eastern shore quickly, and the woods faded into a wasteland even faster.

Frodo could see a volcano looming over the horizon, throwing red sparks through the darkening sky. "Mordor," he breathed. "I hope the others find a safer road."

Sev spoke from behind him. "Aragorn will look after them."

His heart twanged. "I don't suppose we'll ever see them again?"

"Perhaps not in this life," she said, "but we will."

Frodo smiled. "Sev . . ." he said. He turned. Her, there with him, was enough. "I'm glad you're with me." His hand traveled to her shoulder, rubbing up and down very carefully.

They turned and were off to Mordor then.