*rises up from smoke* I LIVVVE! Here's a post-Halloween update for y'all!

"You did what?"

"Carca, relax. He was only trying to teach me."

The Breyta paces back and forth along the balcony of my quarters, his heavy paw steps causing the platform to tremble. His golden eyes bulge with rage and disbelief. "After all I have taught you. After all you have been trained. You allow that dratted Elf Prince to dance with you?"

"Honestly!" I exclaim, pinching the bridge of my nose. "For the last time, we are friends! Can I not at least try to enjoy myself every now and then?"

"Of all the Were-riders to ever walk this earth, Keira, you are the worst! It is by the good grace of the Valar alone that I do not skin your hide and pin it to these cursed elven walls!" Carca lets out an angry roar, and I barely contain a snort of amusement as smoke belches out from his mouth.

"Have you been sneaking some of Merry and Pippin's pipeweed?"

The dark wolf whips around to face me, mane fluffed. "What did you say?"

Despite the rather terrifying look on his face, I fall back upon my bed with a laugh. "Carca, you oaf!"

"I am not an oaf."

"Oh, but you are!" I summon a ball of magic above me and proceed to spin it with my finger. "My dear friend, if you could only know how happy I was!"

A dark face pops overhead, dispersing the orb. "You are behaving like an adolescent girl."

I lean up and grab hold of his chin. "You seem to forget that that is what I am. These many years have done nigh to age me."

Carca's ears flatten. "You have duties, Keira. There will be no more of this 'dancing' with Legolas." The wolf spits out the last word as if it were poison upon his tongue. I roll my eyes.

"Yes, mother." Shooting him a sarcastic look, I get to my feet before making my way over to the balcony. Dawn has already broken over the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of gold. It is as if the great Illuvatar himself has taken a brush and created the spectacle with his own hands. I exhale deeply, allowing the fresh woodland scent to rid me of my worries.

I had managed to get a small amount of sleep after the Prince and I's brief sparring match. I might even have netted in a few more hours had I not been woken by the sound of Carca's claws clicking on the ground as he paced about the room. The Breyta was impatient for me to wake, as he must've been aware that I did not return until the late hours of night.

"We depart in no less than an hour," Carca says, coming to stand beside me. "The dwarf informed me of the Elves' plan to see us off."

I look over at him and quirk an eyebrow. "You talked to Gimli?"

"For a short time, yes. Our opinions are quite alike when it comes to certain things." Carca glances over at me. "I apologize for losing my temper. I should not have behaved so rashly."

"There is no need," I say, reaching out to stroke his ears. "I should have told you where I was going. I know how much you hate it when I keep things from you."

Carca closes his eyes briefly. "I only worry for your safety," he says. "It is my duty to protect you from harm, be it by my own life."

Sighing gently, I sidestep in order to wrap an arm around his neck. "I would not ask for any other guardian."

"Not even the elf?"

My lips twitch. "Not even the elf."

A cool breeze snakes its way through the treetops, sending shivers down my spine. The cold is short lived, however, as Carca extends his wing in order to pull me closer to him. My fingers comb through his thick fur, drawing in much needed warmth. I press my face into his neck and breathe in his familiar scent. This might be the last peaceful moment we have together. The journey ahead is long and treacherous. There is no telling when next we might have time to truly enjoy each other's company.

That being said, we remain there for what seems like forever, huddled against each other, before the sound of shouting brings me back to the real world.

"My lady."

"My lady, Keira."

"Are you there?"

Frowning, I peer over the balcony edge to see none other than Haldir standing at on the steps below. The elf's blonde hair shimmers ethereally in the sunlight, framing his bold features.

"Hello, Haldir," I say breezily, giving him a small wave. The marchwarden responds by bowing.

"Your company is to meet by the shores of Silverlode in a half an hour. I was sent by the Lady Galadriel to inform you of the matter."

"Then be sure to send her my thanks," I say. "I shall be there shortly."

Haldir nods once before turning on heel and disappearing into the forest. I watch him go with sad eyes before looking to Carca.

"Time's up."

When alas Carca and I arrive at the Silverlode, the rest of the Fellowship is there waiting for us.

A great gathering of Elves has amassed before them, each holding a bundle of what looks to be come sort of cloth. Swallowing hard, I come to stand beside Aragorn, who unlike myself, seems completely at ease.

"When do we leave?" I ask, shooting the Ranger a questioning glance.

"Soon, my lady," he replies. "The Elves are to present each of us with gifts before our departure."

"Gifts?" inquires Carca, sidling up next to me. "What kind of gifts?"

Aragorn smirks before looking down at him. "That I do not know."

Suddenly, a hush seems to fall over the gathering. Legolas, who stands several away from Aragorn, straightens substantially as a white-robbed figure begins to make its way towards us. It is the Lord Celeborn, I realize with a start. He whispers something to one of the Elves, and in nigh less than a moment they have formed a line before the company. In front of me stands Haldir, a rare smile curling at his lips. We acknowledge each other briefly before, much to my surprise, the Elf leans forward and wraps the cloth around my shoulders. His kin follow suit with the rest of the Fellowship.

"What are you doing?" I ask, watching as Haldir fastens the ends using a Lorien leaf brooch. The cloth appears to have been cut into some sort of cloak. It is dim grey in color, blending well with the silvery lights of Lothlorien. When my tenant makes no reply, I instead turn to look at the Elf Lord.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people," says Celeborn, facing now towards the Fellowship. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."
Out the corner of my eye, I see Carca recoil as an Elf attempts to wrap something around his neck. At first glance I deem it do be a simple neck wrap, but then I note the fist-sized green jewel infused into it. I kick at him with my heel.

Do not resist, I tell him mentally.

The Breyta gives a low growl but heeds my words nonetheless. The golden metal contrasts sharply against his dark fur, and its intricate shape adds a look of dignity to the Wolf.

"We deemed that a great creature such as yourself would have no use for a cloak," the she-elf says as she fastens it about his neck. "This collar was forged to fit your needs. It will shield you from many dangers."

"How so?"

The elleth simply smiles before stepping back from him. Carca shoots me a questioning glance, which I return with a shrug.

"Were-rider."

The clear voice unmistakably belongs to Galadriel. I look around to see the she-elf emerging out from the shadows of the forest. Her pale face is framed by a silver circlet adorning her forehead.

"My lady, Galadriel," I say, attempting a curtsey. The greeting must seem ridiculous to Carca, as I hear him give a light snicker.

"Come with me," the she says simply. "There is something we must discuss."

Carca whips around to look at me. "Keira, I must insist to come with…"

"No." I cut him off before he is able to finish his statement. "I have to do this alone." Drawing in a deep breath, I turn around and begin to make my way towards the she-elf. Galadriel smiles, but that does nothing but terrify me even more. What could possibly so important that she must talk to me now?

"What is the matter?" I ask upon reaching her. She makes no reply and instead gestures for me to follow her into the forest. There is a certain air about her that puts me at an unease; something is not right, and though I know not what it is, I have a feeling that I might not want to.

Once we have ventured out of the company's range of hearing, Galadriel turns to face me. "The night of the banquet, I looked into your memories." Her blue eyes narrow in suspicion. "You saw something. A vision, one so powerful that I could not break through your walls to see it. Tell me, Keira. What was it that you saw?"
A cold sweat breaks out upon my brow, and I fold my arms across my chest. "My lady, it is for your own good that I do not tell you."

Galadriel observes me in silence for a moment. "Is it?"

"If it was my choice, I would not keep such things from you. But this matter is not in my hands." I sigh heavily. "Please, do not think me to be deceiving you, for I am not."

"There is no deceit in your eyes," she says. "Nor has any come from your tongue. But yet I feel as though you do not tell me the full truth."

I set my jaw. "Galadriel, I do not need you to take the repercussions of my actions. Hear me out when I say that knowledge of this may do more harm than good."

Galadriel narrows her eyes. "You would deny the requests of one of the Noldor?"

"Only to protect you."

There is a hard silence following my words. The Elf Lady's expression is unreadable as she gazes down at me. Then, much to my surprise, Galadriel smiles. "You have a kind heart, Keira. But you need not worry for me. For I am also the bearer of a great burden, and because of that, there is nigh more that could trouble me any further."

"I understand that." Summoning up my courage, I look up to meet her stormy gaze. "But I am not sure that you understand me."
Galadriel gives a gentle sigh. "I do not believe that I ever could, my dear. It is but a fool's hope that anyone would be able to fully comprehend what goes on in your mind." The elleth takes hold of my hand. "The Valar did well to choose you as Were-rider. At first I was not sure, but now there is no doubt in my mind that you shall succeed."

I smile. "Forgive me, but I have become a bit confused as to the topic of this conversation."

"I tested you," says Galadriel, whirling around and making her way back down the pathway. "To see if you would give in to tell me what it is that you guard so carefully. Most would not have been able to handle such an interrogation."

My brow furrows. "I would not regard our conversation as such a harsh term."

"That is because you are gifted," she says. Our footsteps clap a gentle rhythm against the cobblestones as I stride up next to her. "You are strong, Keira. Do not let that strength run thin."

"As long as I can still draw breath, I will not falter."

The she-elf's robes billow out around her as she looks back at me. "He will be there for you."

Her statement takes me aback. "He? Who is he?" Galadriel halts at the break of the treeline and gazes out towards the Fellowship, who stand far off in the distance. I stand beside her, squinting against the rays of the morning sun. The forest seems to have sprung to life. Birds whistle in the high treetops, while rabbits scurry about on the ground below. Golden leaves drifts down from the tall boughs, one of them coming to rest on my shoulder. I reach up and pluck it off, twiddling its end in my fingertips.

"They care greatly for you."
Galadriel's sharp voice cuts through the peaceful silence like a blade through butter.

Tearing my gaze from the leaf, I look over at her with a frown. "How do you know?"

"I have seen the way they look at you," she says. "Legolas, Gimli, the hobbits. Even Estel. You have been a valuable addition to their quest."

"I hope so. My only wish is to keep them all safe."

The Elf Queen glances at me sharply. "Hope can only get you so far. It is your will to live that will keep your friends alive. They rely upon you greatly, perhaps even more so than Aragorn. It is up to the two of you, King and Queen of your own realms and kin, to defeat this growing evil. The company will need you now more than ever." Galadriel reaches down and takes my hand in her own. "Promise me this, Keira. Promise me that you will not give up on them, even when it seems hopeless." Our gazes meet, and I am surprised to find real sorrow shining in the starry depths of her eyes. "Promise me that you will take care of Frodo. He cannot do this alone."

"I will protect him with my life," I whisper, gripping hard onto her palm. "We will succeed, Galadriel. Together, we will triumph."

Galadriel smiles at me, but it is impossible to ignore the look of doubt etched onto her features. There is something she is not telling me. Pushing the thought away, I allow myself to continue.

"Thank you for everything, my lady. You have been nothing but kind to me these past few days. I only wish that we did not have to meet over such troubling matters as these."

"May the Valar bless the path that lies ahead of you," she replies, pulling back in order to place a hand on my cheek. Her gaze is as hard as ice. "Alámenë, Keira, i máramesta."

"Namárië. Hantanyelórenyallo."

Galadriel smiles sadly, and with that we make our way back towards the Silverlode.

"Pippin! What on earth are you doing?"

The hobbit looks up at me, his face riddled with crumbs. In his hands lie the remains of a piece of lembas bread, one of the Lady of Lorien's many gifts to the company. A single bite is enough to fill up the stomach of the hungriest man. But apparently, such rules do not apply to Halfings.

"Something wrong, mi'lady?" he asks innocently. I glower at him before brushing the dust from the front of his shirt.

"You, my dear little friend, are a royal pig. Was one bite not enough for you?"

"Oh!" exclaims Pippin, quickly folding the lembas in its leaf wrapping. "I didn't know!"

I roll my eyes. "Valar forbid, if you come down sick on this journey, don't expect any sympathy from me!" Pippin blinks before nodding rapidly. I grin at his petrified expression before bustling off towards the shoreline. Legolas, Boromir, and Aragorn have already begun to load the boats with supplies. It wouldn't seem very kind to leave them to all the dirty work.

"Need some help, there?" I inquire, jogging up to the hunched over form of the Ranger. Aragorn gives a shallow grunt before looking over his shoulder.

"Nay, my lady," he says, "But perhaps Boromir might have use of you." The man's brow furrows in concentration as he turns back to his work. I watch on as he finishes coiling a rope in the bottom of his boat before turning to stack the weapons. Galadriel and Celeborn had given the company three elegant longboats in order to allow us passage along the River Anduin. Aragorn agreed to ferry Sam and Frodo, leaving Boromir to manage over the cousins. It appears that I will be left with Legolas and Gimli. And Carca, well… Carca will have nothing to do with water. Ever since our little incident with Glorfindel several months ago, he is reluctant to come near a river or lake unless it is to drink. For example, while the Fellowship works to stockpile our resources, the Breyta has taken to his wings and is now soaring through the clouds high above us. His dark form is but a sliver of ebony against an otherwise unblemished sky. I shake my head as I look to Aragorn once more.

"And what of Legolas?" I lean down in order to be at eye level with the Ranger. "Is he managing well?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

The voice is not Aragorn's. Frowning, I whirl around to see none other than the topic of my conversation standing several feet behind me, a large tan bag gathered in his arms. I give a small bleak of surprise and take a step backwards, accidentally bumping hips with the Ranger.

"I'm sorry!" I exclaim, placing an apologetic hand on his shoulder. Aragorn mutters something under his breath before waving me off. Resisting the impulse to cringe, I turn back to Legolas and smile weakly.

"Are you in need of any assistance?" My voice comes out high-pitched and wavered with embarrassment.

Legolas smirks, clearly amused. "Perhaps I could ask the same of you. What exactly are you trying to do, Keira?"

"You know that I hate standing around while others work. I was only hoping to find something to do, besides scold Pippin for munching on lembas."

"Has he been at it again? By Elendial's bright light, Halflings' stomachs must be made of iron! Not even Gimli could consume so much in such a small amount of time."

My mouth falls agape. "Define 'much.'"

"I happened to be walking by and found him consuming not one, but two portions of lembas."

"Two?" I lean my head back. "Blessed Valar, he's doomed! Why did Lady Galadriel ever mention it to him?"

"She does not know him as well as we do," he says. "Now come. If you are so willing to help, then I have knowledge of where you might be of use to us."

With a sigh of accomplishment I nod to him, and we continue on our way.

I do not like boats. No, I do not like boats at all.

It has taken several minutes and quite a bit of coaxing from Legolas to even get me into one of them. But even the Elf's strong grip cannot steady my wobbling legs, nor the trembling of my hands as I try desperately to hold onto him.

"You'll get the hang of it, lass," says Gimli, shooting me a wink from the shoreline. "I myself had some difficulty when I first tried it."

"And when… was that… master dwarf?" I manage to stammer out, screeching quietly as my foot slips on the boat's slick footboards. Legolas grips onto my waist, steadying me as much as possible, before slowly lowering my shivering form into a sitting position. Sackcloth bags, a rather wicked looking axe, and Legolas's bow line the floorboards beside me. Aduial, however, remains tucked away in the sheath strung tightly to my waist. Having now been freed from my Lorien garbs, I chose to embrace the feeling of my worn travelling cloths. I have missed my leggings and tunic, not to mention the ability to let my hair loose from the bonds of Elven clips. It now drapes freely over my shoulders and down my back, ebony tips coming to rest at the middle of my spine. My pointed ears are almost fully concealed beneath the sheer mass of it.

"There," says Legolas, startling me out of my thoughts. "Now remain still, and you should do quite nicely." The Elf's arms slowly begin to slip free of my waist.

"Wait!" I cut in, gripping hard onto his wrists as the boat begins to lurch to the side. "I don't think I can do this!"

"Having some trouble there?"

I look over my shoulder to see Boromir watching on from several feet away. His lips are stretched wide into a grin.

"I'm… managing," I say.

"I can see that." He casts a bemused glance at Legolas. "Running you ragged, is she?"

The Elf cocks his head and frowns. Chuckling to himself, Boromir winks at me before pacing off towards his own boat. I watch him as he goes and am made suddenly aware of Carca's presence residing within my mind. Even if the Breyta is not physically with me, his consciousness will continue to haunt my own until we meet again. I call out to him, willing to be given some sort of response. Instead, I find nothing.

"I do not understand Gondorians," Legolas says irritably, disrupting my thoughts. "They are far too full of themselves for my liking."

"And you aren't?" I inquire, quirking an eyebrow. The Elf glances down at me seriously, and Gimli snorts. "Oh dear, have I harmed your pride, Legolas?"

"Such talk would not be approved if we were in the halls of my father. He would just as soon have you thrown in the dungeons rather than be lectured on pride."

"Oh?" I look over at Gimli. "Did you hear that, master dwarf? I do believe Legolas just threatened me!"

"Did he, now?" The dwarf rises up from his seated position and crosses his arms. "You best be mindin' your tongue, Princeling, or it'll be the first thing to go!"

"Not if I were to rid of yours first."

"Gentlemen!"

Both Elf and dwarf turn to look at me. "There is no need to quarrel."

"I am no child," says Legolas, "And I do not appreciate being referred to as one." His tone seethes with bitterness. I frown. Usually, the Elf has a rather happy and playful temperament. It is rare to see him unamused. Heaving a sigh, I wobble to my feet before stepping back onto shore. Legolas's blue eyes would seem condescending to most as he gazes down upon me, but I am able to see the true emotion beneath them. He is upset.

My shoulder skirts across his as I step up to him, all attempts at humor forgotten. "What is wrong, Legolas? You are not yourself."

"How so?"

I glower severely. "Do not play innocent. I know there is something bothering you. Please tell me.

"It is nothing, I assure you." Tentatively, the Prince clasps hold of my elbow. "But it seems to me that you are void of sorrow. Are you not saddened to be leaving?"

"Yes." I brush a stray wisp of hair behind his ear, allowing my thumb to trail along his cheekbone. "Yes, of course I am. Legolas, I would give anything to stay here just one day more. But I know that our journey must resume as quickly as possible. I will not rest in luxury whilst innocent lives are being lost." A clammy feeling washes over me as I imagine the horror that the kingdoms of Rohan and Gondor must be enduring. Women and children, covered in ash and dust, fleeing through the streets while Orcs ravage their town. The old and crippled, left to die in the constricting smoke with no means of escape. The screams of horses as they are burned alive within the flame-licked stables. Infants wailing as their mothers fail to reach them in time.

Setting my jaw, I force myself to push back the dark thoughts in order to keep my composure. "I would rather die a thousand deaths than to witness such things. But die I cannot." I try a smile. "I have shed tears at the thought of leaving this fair golden wood. Do not mistake me to be so unfeeling, and don't let yourself become bitter because of it."

"Sorrow is my plight, and sorrow alone," Legolas says. "I wish only that my Woodland kin remain well in our leave. The Lady Galadriel will guard Lorien well, yet I fear that the powers of her ring may not be enough to do away with the Orcs at their borders."

"Do not trouble yourself with matters that you do not control," I tell him. "I will ensure that Lothlorien remains free of evil following our departure. My warriors will join with them in battle, if all else fails. They will respond to my and Frodo's every call."

Legolas frowns. "Frodo?"

I swallow hard before continuing. "Moments prior to the start of this quest, I bestowed upon the hobbit a necklace carved from the tooth of a wolf. He need only recite the runes engraved on it for help to come, whether it be by my Riders or Carca and I."

"Mellon nin, why have you kept this from me?" he asks, leaning closer. "This is information that could be useful to us all, Keira."

"How so?"

The Elf closes his eyes, and for a moment I think he might lose his temper. But instead, I feel his fingers slip underneath my chin, angling my face up towards his. His gaze is soft with knowing as he looks upon me once more.

"It does not matter now," he says gently. "The only thing left for us to do is to protect Frodo, and I see now that you have nigh covered that yourself." Legolas glances off to the side, then back at me. Something about his demeanor seems to change just then. His lips pull into a tight line, with his brow set in a stoic expression. For a moment, I don't even recognize him. This is, after all, the face of royalty. The hardened features of a wise and proud leader. Legolas Thranduilion, only heir of Thranduil Opherion, Prince of the Woodland Realm. I blink once, shocked, before stepping back.

"There is someone here to see you," Legolas says stiffly. He then gives a short nod towards the forest behind him. Eyeing the Elf carefully, I take a long pace around him before peering out into the trees. There, shrouded in the golden rays of dawn, stands Haldir. His features do not appear as harsh now, yet there is a certain hardness about them that sends shivers down my spine.

"Haldir," I say, making my way towards him.

"Lady Keira," he says, bowing once. His eyes, as grey and stormy as the sea, briefly capture hold of my own. "I must speak to you at once. The matter is urgent." Haldir then turns on heel and begins to stride deeper into the forest.

"Of course," I say, then under my breath, "A popular one, I am." Casting a weary look back at Legolas, I smooth out my tunic before following after the marchwarren. "What is so important that you must speak of it now?" I inquire upon reaching him. "If I recall, you were said to be out on patrol."
"Aye, I was. But that was before I discovered this." Haldir extends a palm towards me, revealing a perfectly smooth golden object clutched in his grasp. It is round and oblong, with a hint of crimson tinting at its edges. I feel a deep cold begin to creep into my heart.

"Valar forbid… May I?" My eyes flit to the Elf's, and he nods once. Tentatively, I reach out and take hold of the object. It is surprisingly cool to the touch. I stroke along its outer rim, allowing my fingertip to caress its surface. The gesture is anything but caring, however. I am simply testing to see if my presumption of the object's identity is correct.

Breathing in deeply, I allow my mind to empty before whispering, "Runya e orto," As if on cue, a strange orange glow spreads out beneath the gold, revealing a single rune burnt red in its center. Then, as quick as a strike of lightning, the object disintegrates into white dust. My breath hitches, and I close my eyes before allowing its remains to fall from my palm.

"A Lypta scale. It is as I feared." I pause to glance up at him. "Where did you find this?"

"On the outskirts of our borders not an hour past. I was told that you have great knowledge on Sauron and the evil surrounding him, and thus was moved to consult you on the matter." Haldir folds his arms. "Can Lorien's borders be breached by these creatures?"

"Haldir, I am not the right person to ask of this matter. Surely the Lord Celeborn or Lady Galadriel would have a better answer."

"It was my Lord Celeborn that instructed me to inquire it of you," he says evenly.

I cross my arms uncomfortably. "Nevertheless, I cannot give you the answer you seek. The Lypta are as cunning as they are wicked. They will stop at nothing to infiltrate the woods of Lorien, and I can state with certainly that, judging by the presence of the scale, they have almost succeeded. The power of Galadriel's ring will keep them from entering your borders on foot, but Sauron's drakes are also airborne. It will not take them long to find a way to cause destruction." I pause, pinching at the bridge of my nose, before looking at him sadly. "There is nothing more you can do. The Lypta are bred to burn and destroy, and that is what their mind-set shall always be."

Haldir's face pales considerably. "It is my duty as marchwarren to protect my kin. Are you to tell me that I have failed that task?"

"I am saying that this matter is out of your hands." Glancing downwards, I finger past my tunic in order to bring out the square pendant I have nestled on a chain around my neck. With a mental sigh of reluctance I yank hard on it, snapping its bonds, before extending it to Haldir. "But it is not out of mine. Take this. If you ever are to need the help of my winged warriors, you need only speak the runes engraved upon its surface. The Riders will come to your aid, as surely as the sun will rise."

"You have my deepest gratitude," says Haldir, plucking the necklace from my fingers. "I shall inform my Lord and Lady of this at once."

"You must promise me something, Haldir!" I call, stopping the Elf in his preparation to depart. The marchwarren looks at me expectantly, and I gaze back at him, my eyes pinched in sadness. "Promise me that you will not take my gift for granted. That you will use it only during the moments of greatest distress."

Much to my surprise, Haldir turns back towards me before grasping hold of both my arms. "Keira Whitam, Chosen of the Valar, highest of the Riders, I swear to you upon my own life and the lives of my kin that I shall not take your generosity for granted. May the River carry you along safer paths than those that led Sauron's bane to this forest."

I smile. "Thank you, Haldir. You have been a most gracious host."

The corner of his lips quirks ever so slightly. "Farewell, my good lady. I pray that the stars shine brightly upon your venture."

Sighing sadly, I give his shoulder a small squeeze. "Farewell. In time, we shall meet again."

"In time."

"I have taken my worst wound at this parting, having looked my last upon that which is fairest." Gimli heaves a sigh as he gazes off down the River. "Henceforth I will call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me."

It has been nearly an hour since our departure of Lothlorien, and already I can feel the deep calm of the woods fading from my mind. Even Gimli seems strangely distraught upon leaving, despite his strong dislike of Elves.

"What was her gift?" inquires Legolas at length.

The dwarf is silent for a moment before responding. "I asked her for one hair from her golden head. She gave me three." I don't have to look at him to know that there is a smile on his face. Legolas, too, appears to find some pleasure in Gimli's words. As I am seated in between the two, I have found myself rather pleased with the lack of tension. I would have expected at least one of them to have thrown an insult already, yet they have been nothing but pleasant. But then again, it is still early in our travels. There's no telling what might instigate confrontation.

The gentle swish of the oar as Legolas paddles us further downstream acts as the only sound to break the heavy silence that resounds about us. I feel the Elf's breath, warm and comforting, on the back of my neck. Its minty fragence puts me at ease. Perhaps this journey down the River might not be so bad, after all. At the rate we are moving, we should have made swift progress by sundown.

Boromir and Aragorn have quite literally been left in our wake. Not even the strength of men can match the endurance of Elves, even when said Elf has the weight of a dwarf and a woman. Not to mention our stockpile of food and weapons. Nevertheless, he barely seems winded.

"What did Galadriel give to you, Keira?"

I jump at the sound of Legolas's voice, rocking the boat ever so slightly. Gimli clutches onto the sides in order to steady it. The Elf's words seem to transport me back several hours earlier, when the Lady of Light bestowed something upon me that I can never repay. A gift, but most importantly, a warning.

"Keira?"

Glancing back at him, I feel my lips tug into a smile. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Legolas seems to deflate a bit. "If you wish not to tell me, I understand."

"Stars above, it's called sarcasm, Legolas!" With a grunt I reach down before taking hold of a large bundle of cloth resting along the boat's side. The fabric is smooth and silken, embroidered with silver vines and elegant flowers. I carefully work to unravel it until its contents spill out onto my lap.

Resting silently upon my thighs are a pair of silver longknives. Elvish runes are engraved along the blades, adding elegance and beauty to equally lavish weapons. Sparkling sapphire jewels dot along the upper hilt, while thin silver vines twist down beneath. Gimli, having turned towards me, gives a soft gasp.

"Those are fine blades," Legolas says. "Their craftsmanship is far beyond any of those forged by my Greenwood kin. They must have been wielded by the High Elves of old, for they possess a deep and ancient beauty. Did Galadriel tell you of their previous bearer?"

My palms grow dank with sweat as his words remind me of my last encounter with the she-elf. "No, she did not." Lies. All lies. But better to deceive him rather than reveal of the thing the Galadriel strictly prohibiting me from speaking of.

"A shame. Perhaps it was someone of great importance."

I look over my shoulder, and Legolas smiles. Oblivious. I have gotten good at tricking him into believing things that aren't true. He claims to know when I'm lying, yet he does not acknowledge it now. But surely he must've sensed the unease in my tone. The tightness in my voice. The paleness of my knuckles as I twiddle the blades in my fingers. An overwhelming feeling of dread washes over me, and I look away sharply.

It's better this way, I assure myself. Legolas will be safe not knowing of it.

'It' being the dark warning Galadriel gave to me moments before out departure. A looming omen, foretelling the end of all things. Death and destruction, ash and fire, mist and shadow. Her words echo in my ears like a haunting ghost, pounding them into my memory over and over again. She had kept them from me at first, unsure of whether or not I would be able to handle them. After I passed her test, however, the Lady of Light decided to tell me the Prophecy of the Seventh, foretelling the fate of the last of the Were-riders. But it was the final phrase she spoke that hit me the hardest. That struck real fear in my heart.

Keira.

Carca's voice that jolts me from my thoughts. I allow my mind to open in order to form an image of him. His eyes, standing out from amidst a background of black, are shadowed with an emotion beyond me. After all, I was not the only one who was told the prophecy. Carca is my trusted protector, the only creature on this earth that knows me even better than he does himself. How could he not be told of what is to come?

How do you fare? he asks.

I am managing. Another lie. Though I do not think myself to be able to last much longer in this dratted boat.

That is not what I meant. Carca's image blurs out for a moment, signifying one of his many mood shifts. I would not wish this dark fate upon you. If it is your desire, we could perhaps depart the company sometime during the…

"No!"

The word escapes my lips before I am able to stop it. Both Legolas and Gimli shoot me queer looks combined with furrowed brows.

"Something wrong, lass?" inquires the dwarf.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. My eyes flit to Gimli, then down to my feet. "It's nothing." Heaving a gentle sigh, I busy myself with rewrapping my long-knives and stowing them away. As I do so, my cheeks begin to tingle with embarrassment. How could I lose control like that? My mental conversations with Carca are between just the two of us, or at least they should be. Have I been letting things slip when I shouldn't be?

Suddenly, the rhythmic swishing of the paddle ceases, and I feel something warm press against my shoulder. Legolas's hand. I feel my vision grow blurry with tears. Leave it to the Prince to know when I am hurting. Slowly, I bring my own hand up in order to thread my fingers through his.

"Gellon ned i galar i chent gîn ned i gladhol," he says. "Do not let darkness take that away."

"I'm scared, Legolas." A single tear drips down from my lashes before plopping onto my lap. This is the first time that I have fully admitted being frightened to him. I don't know what he'll think of me, now. The Elf gazes down at me softly, his blue eyes calm and passionate. Then he says something that surprises me.

"I am, too." His words are spoken quietly, as to not be overheard by Gimli. "It is only natural, Keira. There is no good reason for us not to be. It is only our will to live that drives us now. Nothing more than the fleeting shadow of a hope."

"But yet it still remains." Looking to the sky, I watch as Carca's low-flying shadow glides overheard. The Wolf's eyes are but slivers of glinting gold as he turns his gaze down towards us.

I will not abandon them, I say. They need us. You heard what Galadriel said. Without our aid to destroy Karr, Middle Earth will fall to ruin.

Carca's sigh twists its way through my mind. Your bravery is great, Keira. Keep hold of it, and perhaps the omen can be done away with. It is, after all, the word of a she-elf we are going by.

A she-elf who has been alive longer than I can even fathom. I stroke a piece of hair behind my ear, flinching slightly as my fingertips run across its pointed tip. It serves as a daily reminder that I am not only human. I was born with half-elven blood, and whether I like it or not, I will never know where I belong. But here within the company, we are all equals. Even if one's power is greater than another's. They would never abandon me.

How could I ever think to do so to them?

We will discuss this matter later. I fly ahead to survey the River. With that Carca severs our connection, and Galadriel's words return to ring in my mind.

"Seventh Wolf-rider until the sun,

Through gold and blood shall your war be won.

A crimson honey, as thick as rain,

Shall seep from the jaws of Sauron's bane.

Slain by the Eventide, a silver storm,

The plague of the One shall be no more."

Those were the words that the Elf Lady told to me and my companion. But unbeknownst to Carca, she had left out a single phrase. One that was to be told only to the one it pertains to. I remember the look of sorrow buried beneath her eyes are she whispered the last words within my mind.

The Fire of ages will consume your heart,

But through your death, you have done your part.

There are always risks to be taken when embarking a quest such as this. Carca and I both knew it. That the odds of everyone coming back alive were slim at best. And we were right. Gandalf has fallen into shadow. Boromir has become dangerously drawn to the ring, and Frodo… well, Frodo is a different story. The dark truth of the matter is that for this mission to succeed, someone will have to die.

And somewhere, in the deepest and darkest corner of my mind, I knew that someone was going to be me.

After Gandalf fell, I second-guessed myself. Perhaps his sacrifice would be all that was needed. But then there was Galadriel's omen to predict the exact thing I hoped to avoid. That I would have to die. When and where, I do not know, only that it will happen. Yet the thought of death is inexplicably terrifying, though I do not know why. For twenty years I have been trained how to survive in the wild. Back then, death was simply a faraway thought in the back of my mind. Sure, Orcs and Lypta might seem like daunting foes, but my powers were far greater than theirs. I was almost always guaranteed victory.

Now I am not so sure.

But even though a part of me shies away from the thought of dying, the longer I stay with the Fellowship, and the more dear they become in my heart, I find myself willing to pay the ultimate price. No amount of pain or torture could ever take away my love for each one of them. Even Boromir. They are my friends, and I would give my life to ensure their safety.

Your heart will not survive.

An image of Galadriel flashes before my eyes, disrupting my thoughts. She stands amidst the golden woods of Lorien, her white robes melding into the light of the sun. Blue eyes pierce into my own, as sharp and probing as snake fangs. They serve as a reminder. A reminder to heed her words, to know them like the back of my own hand. To never tell anyone about the true prophecy. Not even the company. Not even Carca.

Be brave, Keira of the Chosen.

The vision wavers, blurring out as the she-elf raises a hand in farewell.

Be brave.

And with that she is gone.

You are coming.

With every passing hour I can better hear the beating of your heart. The rush of blood as it flows through your half-bred veins. My jaws ache to end the relentless noises of your life-force. Soon I shall be rid of you and your little Wolf-filth pet. Your Fellowship of illiterates has begun to dissipate. Already the grey Wizard has fallen prey to the fangs of the Red Demon, and in three days' time another shall pass. Saruman's beasts will flush him out like wolves among sheep. Already I can smell the tang of Boromir of Gondor's blood melding will the tears of the Were-rider. Your tears. Oh, how your fragile heart will despair at the thought of losing one so misunderstood.

If only you knew that it is your own life that is on the brink, now.

The fires of Doom have grown unstable. My lair will not satisfy me for much longer. The One sees all from his dark tower, yet he is blind to the power growing beneath his very gaze. Sauron regards me as a mindless beast, a simple fire-drake such as the worm, Smaug.

But that is not so. I am the Lord of Fire and Darkness. From ash and flame I was risen to life. From the bones of the dead was my body made. In the darkest depths of Mordor were my lungs given breath. And in the Cracks of Mount Doom, I was given my flames. With the power granted to me I will slay you, Keira Whitam, and paint the ground with your blood. I will kill every one of your little friends, started with the Wood-rat of an Elf Prince. You fancy him. I have looked deeply into your mind to see the full extent of your rather… complicated relationship. Perhaps your heart need not be broken by my hand, should you witness his fair face being scorched into nonexistence. I might just end his life first if only to let you suffer.

My dear Keira, how I long to see you suffer. You are so close now. It is only a matter of time before you find the courage to challenge me, and then you will fall.

The time of the Riders is over, little girl.

The Reign of Fire has begun.

See what I did there? Huh? Huh?

Ugh, so I got my wisdom teeth out last week... one word. MISERY. Please forgive me for the wait, but I was in no shape to publish, with my cheeks puffed to twice their regular size. I'm finally recovered now, so time to get back into the writing grove! Please feel free to give me feedback on this chapter... I wrote and rewrote it over and over again before finally settling on this version.

Thanks for reading, and have a great rest of your weekend! xx

-PC