Hello, my lovelies! Thanks for the lovely reviews! I wish that I could reply to all of them. I was able to do so for the majority of them, but earlier in the week, fanfiction-review-center decided that it was going to have some problems. I can't see your reviews on the site, and therefore can't respond to all of them. As soon as the problem is fixed, I will be sure to send you guys the proper thanks that you each deserve. I've heard from other writers that this is an issue all across the board so rest assured that it is not your fault. Haha This has happened once before but it didn't last for this long, if I recall correctly. Anyway – I CAN read your reviews as they are sent to my email as well, so thanks for the kind words and I hope to respond to you ASAP.

We are moving right along, everyone! I should point out I suppose that Part Three is going to be coming to an end soon. Gall it is crazy! Can't believe we've made it this far! Please review this chapter! It is a pretty significant one… *wink wink*

In other news: I've started writing Kara's story! Yay!

Disclaimer: I own nothing affiliated with Tolkien or Jackson. Just Arathell and characters that do not appear in this chapter.


Part Three – We Barely Make It

The Pretty Reckless - You

"You can't feel me, no
Like I feel you
I can't steal you, no
Like you stole me"


February 21, 3019 – The Great River, Anduin

She stared out into the distance of her watch, eyes taking everything into account. The disquiet in her belly had grown even greater than before, and she was now beyond afraid of what was coming for them. She dreaded the moment completely and there was something inside of her that made her think that she would not be able to help it. She hated feeling like this.

The only way that she could even possibly hope to combat the feeling was to be ever watchful of her company. During her watches, she was steadfast and alert, waiting for the smallest sound to creep over Gimli's loud snoring. Often, she thought about kicking him awake so that his snores would not alert the Enemy of their presence. But she would let him sleep, knowing that her senses were far greater than any of the enemy's, save perhaps her sense of smell, but there was no doubt in her mind that the enemy had already caught wind of their trail. The river was their only refuge, and even then it only made her feel very much like a fish in a barrel.

A faint ripple dripped across the surface of the river and her eyes snapped to it in an instant. Her eyes raked the surface, seeing a small branch floating against the current. When she stared harder, she could see thin, bony fingers lightly draped over the wood. A grimace took over her features and she considered wakening Aragorn to show him Gollum's presence. She wished that the mangled thing would have stayed away, where he was meant to. How he had even tracked them this far was impressive to her, considering how long they had dwelt in Lothlórien. That would have meant that he had to have waited for them to leave without ever being detected, which was always a formidable task when the guards were Elves.

Aragorn probably already knew of Gollum sneaking along with them. Ever since the Ranger had been assigned the task of monitoring his whereabouts, it seemed that Aragorn was officially sensitive of the creature and whether he was near or not.

Knowing this, she decided that she would not wake him. She did not want to be bothered with him at the moment anyways. She still felt pain when she thought of their last conversation, but a part of her actually wondered what it was that he was about to say before Gimli had woken. She was grateful to Gimli, without a doubt, as it saved her even greater heartache, but now it put her in an awkward situation whenever she was forced to interact with Aragorn, which was already a demanded thing given their circumstances. She wanted to be near him more and sit with him in his quiet moments. She wanted him to play with her hair, but now she was afraid to even approach him with the question. Arathell had tested the boundaries of their friendship, and she knew that the moment she spoke with him about it, he would reprimand her, and that was simply something that she could not bear to hear at the moment, even with the growing darkness in her mind.


February 22, 3019 – The Great River Anduin

When they pulled the boats onto the shore that evening, she stared with distaste at the small beach. Lately, everything had been feeling like it was closing in around her and she no longer had room to breathe and move. The size of the beach did not help soothe her nerves either. They were beginning to hear the crows of Isengard more frequently now, and with every squawk, she felt the doom in her heart draw closer, as if she needed the constant reminder that there was no escape.

She glanced over to the others as everyone began settling in for the evening, dinner already made and bedrolls laid out.

Boromir was poised behind a high rock, looking frightfully out at the water. She followed his gaze and scorned, seeing that Gollum had remained with them for the duration of the day. "Gollum," Aragorn explained when he also saw Boromir's staring. "He's tracked us since Moria. I had hoped we would lose him on the River, but he is too clever a water-man."

"And if he should alert the Enemy to our whereabouts?" Boromir pondered aloud. "It will make the crossing even more dangerous."

"Have some food, Mr. Frodo," she heard Sam call, but she ignored him and carefully approached Boromir.

She did not know what to say, so instead she just stood, staring as Gollum's log repeatedly bumped into a large rock planted in the river.

Finally, Boromir sighed and turned to look at her. He looked irrevocably sad and she could only mirror him. "There is nothing for us, is there?" he finally drawled, his eyes painfully clear and lucid.

Arathell hastily grasped his hand and held it to her heart. "Boromir, there will forever be a part of my heart that will be solely yours. You must know this."

He gave her a tiny smile and drew her hand up to place a tender kiss on it which only made her heart ache at what she could never hope to have with him. "Perhaps if we survive this, and all goes according to plan, you may give me another chance to win your heart completely. I do still love you."

"I know. And if that day comes, I will wait to hear your beautiful pleas," she teased and stood on her toes to place a quick kiss on his mouth. She felt nothing and that hurt even more.

Boromir seemed gladdened by this, but when he turned to look at Aragorn, she saw anger take over almost immediately. His moments of lucidity were rare now, but she treasured each one, remembering his joyful spirit and his pleasant laugh and burning kisses. She prayed that he would come back to her again, but she knew in her heart that he was gone from her forever. There truly was nothing for them; there was too much hurt.

"Minas Tirith is the safer road," Boromir told Aragorn, stalking up to the Ranger, and she braced herself for an argument. "You know that." Aragorn turned slightly to hear Boromir, but he did not seem impressed. "From there, we can regroup. Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength."

"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us," Aragorn disagreed.

The anger of Boromir disappeared and she saw raw hurt break him. He looked weak in front of her. "You were quick enough to trust the Elves," he pointed out, throwing his hand to the side, unable to fight harder for his people and knowing already of what Aragorn would say. "Have you so little faith in your own people?" he asked, tired and hurt. Aragorn actually looked slightly guilty at that. "Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage, also, and honor to be found in Men. But you will not see that."

Aragorn began to turn away, but Boromir lashed out and grabbed his shoulder, yanking him back to the conversation and she stepped forward, ready to intervene as she saw that Legolas was as well. "You are afraid. All your life, you have hidden in the shadows – scared of who you are, of what you are." Boromir finally released Aragorn and the Ranger paused slightly before walking away. His face appeared only inches from Boromir's as he challenged the Gondorian and she took another step forward. "I would not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city," Aragorn barked at him a cool whisper that seemed to only injure Boromir's pride more, so much to the point that she felt angry for him.

Boromir looked ready to storm after Aragorn, but she halted him, grabbing his coat and pulling him back. He looked furious with her for a moment, but she raised her hand to stop him. "I know," she murmured. That startled him for a moment and he looked at her curiously. "I cannot say that I agree that we should travel to the City, but I do know that he has always feared what he may become. He can be a difficult Man sometimes, and his mind is almost as stubborn as my own. I will speak with him, but I cannot promise anything, and I do not mean to change his mind about our road."

"How can this Man be the King of Gondor? He acts like he is repulsed by the thought of my people, as if he does not know the strain they endure day after day. How can he be so heartless and callous to them?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper.

She shook her head. "Ever since he learned his true course, he has feared it." She sighed and looked after him. "I will speak with him," she repeated before walking quietly to Aragorn. He stiffened when he felt her behind him, but she did not stop and took a seat beside him on his rock. "He thinks you to be callous," she began, "heartless even." Aragorn ground his teeth and looked away. "Have you ever been inside of the city, Aragorn?" she asked curiously. He still did not utter a word. "You have collaborated with Stewards and Princes of Gondor, but have you ever been inside of the city? Answer me," she demanded coolly and without emotion.

"Of course I have," he spat.

Arathell scoffed. "I have," she told him, ignoring him. "Seven layers of pure white stone, blended into the mountains as if it was a painting." He looked ready to interrupt, but she continued anyway. "But it does not matter what it looks like. It is the people that make the stone glow. I have seen soldiers, highly decorated with the wings that give their spirits flight and with rich, navy blue capes that draw the sun's eyes. I have seen mothers, full and proud with smiles on their faces as they trade and sell the goods they have made with happy neighbors. I have seen children running through the streets like water flows over the falls and laughter on their lips and toys clutched to their chests as they run playfully from the other children. I have seen the elders of the city, stoic on the porches of their homes, smoking their pipes and at peace, watching the same things I have described. The White Tree of Gondor used to stand proud on the highest level, in full bloom throughout all of the seasons. Never wind or storm could tear its boughs low. It was a tree of Gondor and that meant strength and constancy and wisdom.

"I saw the White Tree wither, dying even with ages left to live. The blooms fell to the stone, abandoned by those who once would have bowed low to it. True, it is still guarded, but it is with an empty heart that this is done. Their supposed hope is nothing but a mask of devastation and loss. The soldiers do no longer fly; they cower and swallow their bile when their death comes, afraid. The women stay inside, purposefully ignorant of what terrors could lay outside their doors, trying to hide from the devastation that lurks just outside. The children are cocooned in the warmth of their home, old toys abandoned in dirty corners. The old look out their windows and remember the days when their own elders would sit outside in the sun, wondering what that could be like – a world without fear."

She scoffed and saw that he remained perfectly still. "Isn't it fascinating that the greatest kingdom of Middle Earth is afraid of itself? It doesn't seem right."

"They fear because of Mordor beside them," Aragorn explained tiredly.

"That is only the obvious answer," she dismissed. "I think that they are afraid because they are alone. Rohan struggles with its own problems and leaves Gondor surrounded, without hope." He stirred at the word, as she knew that he would. "You say that you fear for me and what my lack of hope will do to me. You also say that perhaps it is because I have been alone for so long that I do not have cause to hope. Can it not also be the same for the people of Gondor? Why is it that you need me, a solitary Elf in this war, to have hope when you can dismiss a whole country and their silent cries for help? There are children there, Aragorn – children! Beautiful, innocent children that may never know why their fathers never returned or what color the sky used to be before this dreadful darkness! Perhaps it is the mother in me, but it hurts my heart and soul to know that this is their fate should we forsake them. Boromir was all the hope they had, and you know that. Denethor has never known how to rule that country as it needs to be ruled. With Boromir with us, decaying as he is, what hope does Gondor have at all? Who else can pull them from their darkness if it is not you?"

"There are other ways," he denied.

"No, my friend, there are not. You have to let go of who you were to become who you will be," she replied sadly. "Without you to stand beside them and give their wings flight again, they will fall, as all wingless birds do. We both know that the moment that Gondor falls, the rest of the world will not be far behind. Gondor is the last – it is the world's last hope. Would you abandon them and let all good die with them?"

Arathell did not wait for him to reply, knowing that she had given him enough to consider.


February 23, 3019 – Near Sarn Gebir

Arathell shuddered from the icy wind that blew on her face as they exited the boats. Despite being Elf-kind and being incredibly tolerant of most forms of weather, she knew in her heart that she was weary. The days on the River seemed to be endless and with the fear gnawing at her insides like a dog would a bone, she felt punctured and perforated. Adding the Ring to her troubles and the rest of the Fellowship's silence, everything in her being could only ache with exhaustion.

She threw herself down on the shore, giving up the pretenses that she was alright. She knew that no one would bother her. The boats were dragged up so the tide would not steal them and she stared up into the night. The stars still shone, which was a blessing. She supposed that this was how the Mortals would see them too, brightly lit but still so far. She knew not how Varda created them, only that they were thrown as flower petals by her.

She stared at the shapes they made in the inky blue of the night, names of their patterns slipping from her mind as she released them from such prisons. They seemed to spill out for her eyes, ever reaching for more darkness to touch. They lost their shapes, simply existing as their own, brave unit, fighting the darkness in the only way they knew how. She smirked. Arwen was a star indeed.

So she looked further beyond such ethereal glows, looking at the blues and purples and blacks. Their colors were darker but still rich. They held the world perhaps not in a warm and loving embrace as the Sun or the stars did, but it held the world in a protective one nevertheless. Everywhere she looked there was depth that never seemed to end. It was a cold embrace, this form of darkness, but it was nothing like what Sauron had planned for them. This darkness was natural; cocooning the world as it lulled its people to slumber, fighting to keep them safe through the night. She was the Beautiful Darkness.

A shadow crept over her vision as she continually stared. It flapped with surety, but not in the cool colors of the night, but with black malice. Her eyes widened as she stared at it further. "We're under attack!" she yelled, leaping to her feet and drawing Finelleth and an arrow from her quiver.

Everyone leapt into action and stared up at the night for the invisible being that only she could see. Legolas appeared at her side, searching with an arrow pulled taut on his bow from Galadriel. "What is it?" he asked her in Sindarin, still searching.

"I know not," she replied quietly in her native speech. "It is not a bird; this I can promise you," she whispered. "Its wings are much like a bat, but it woke something dark inside of me when I gazed upon it. This is no friend to our Company."

"Where has it gone then?" Legolas returned.

"Perhaps it was a scout," she suggested. "It flew over the trees, just there," she said, pointing. "It could not have landed in them; it was too big to do so."

Legolas pondered for a moment, trying to understand the implications. "If this was but a scout, then who could it be scouting for? And how far behind is its master?" he asked.

Their question was answered soon enough when perhaps a dozen bowstrings sang through the air. The Hobbits shrieked with surprise and she ran to their aid immediately, releasing an arrow into the depths of the trees, hearing a loud scream break the night's peace.

Orcs appeared in front of her, their armor dark and rusted from disuse. She ducked underneath the clumsy swing of one to smash her elbow against the back of its head, sending it careening into the Merry's sword. Another charged at her, but she parried well enough to disarm it, slicing at its jugular not a moment later. More and more leapt out at her, and she felt her strength surge, desperate to live and even more desperate to protect the Hobbits.

At a pause in her endeavors, she scanned for the others, spotting Aragorn carving and Boromir striking. The others all were alive. "Thellie!" a Hobbit cried and she was suddenly tackled to the ground, rolling through the sand and mud. She yelped as the mass landed on top of her, knocking the air from her lungs.

"What a pretty plaything," a raspy voice croaked into her ear and she shuffled under the heavy weight of the Orc. "What do they keep you for, pretty? Do you make good sport?"

She screamed in disgust and managed to withdraw one of her arrows from her quiver. When a cry, she pierced the Orc in the eye, hearing it scream in pain and she continued to drill the weapon deep into his skull, feeling warm blood trail down her arm. With it slowly dying, she flipped herself over so that she straddled the beast and pulled a dagger from her side to swipe at its throat, ending its existence.

A loud cry was heard from overhead and she looked up to the massive shadow swerve in its flight before falling ungracefully into the woods. She felt the ground shake with its landing under her and saw the remaining Orcs take flight back into the trees.

"Arathell!" she heard and spun around with her dagger held high to see Aragorn rushing at her. She sighed in relief and lowered her dagger. "Are you hurt?" he demanded.

She shook her head tiredly and pushed a strand hair out of her face. "It is not my blood," she replied.

He investigated her for a moment longer before he seemed satisfied that she was indeed alive and well. "Where is your blade?" he asked.

Arathell glanced around her, surprised that it had gotten from her at all. She looked toward the Hobbits, seeing Sam bashfully pick it up from the dirty forest floor and begin walking over to her with it. "The last filth kicked it out of your hand when he tackled you," he explained. "It is rather heavy."

She smiled gratefully and took it from him, already thinking of cleaning it of blood. "It is actually remarkably light, given that it is made by my people. But I suppose it would seem heavy to you," she replied. "Aragorn, help me up," she sighed. He took her arm and pulled her to her feet. She felt him still staring at her, as if now investigating the parts of her that had been hidden underneath her while she had been sitting. "Aragorn, I am quite alright. There is no need to worry over me."

He shook his head dismissively. "It is not like you to allow any to tackle you to the ground. You have lost your harshness."

"I was looking after the others," she dismissed and walked to her abandoned pack, happy to still find a clean cloth.

"You were trying to look after all of us," he disagreed. "I saw you looking for Boromir and the others. You know better than that. We are capable fighters and you should have focused on staying with the Hobbits, instead of looking for ways to take care of the rest of us. You could have gotten yourself killed."

She guffawed in anger and threw her hands into the air. "I am more than capable, Aragorn, and you know that. There is no reason to fear for me. Clearly, I had it all under control, but you will not see that. All you see is a woman who needs protecting at every turn. Only in the sparring ring do you ever treat me as if I am your equal on the battlefield."

"You know very well that that is not true," he snapped.

She pursed her lips, knowing that he was indeed right. She had let her emotions and her fear from the moment before control her thoughts. He never had doubted her before, but she was still disturbed with him at the moment. "Then cease your worrying over me."

Aragorn latched onto her arm, but she yanked it away and looked down to still see Sam watching the two of them interestedly. He seemed angry with Aragorn, but not as he had been with Boromir when he had caught them kissing all those months ago. "I think if Miss Thellie doesn't want you touching her, then you best do as she says. Like she told you, she can take care of herself and you needn't be testing her patience. Can't you see she is tired?"

"Sam, please," she said gently and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Go help Gimli get a fire going. I am quite sure that you are hungry." Sam seemed ready to argue but she shook her head once more and watched him reluctantly leave to walk toward the disheveled campsite.

Arathell looked back at Aragorn and sighed and walked to the shore, kicking little rocks into the water. She moved further downriver away from the prying eyes of the others and removed her Elven cloak and unstrapped her outer layer of armor, unclenching her muscles and letting them relax. The makeshift form of armor rarely ever bothered her, having long since become an extension of herself. It was light and it still allowed her to move as she wished to. Its tightly shaped shoulder brace held her back in place more often than not and the corset of armor around her middle had saved her life more times that she could count. With all of these articles removed from her person, she reached up to her leather tunic cords at the base of her throat and untied them. She felt Aragorn's eyes still resting on her until she lifted the bloody article over her head, with nothing but a light, cloth tunic which only really acted as protection from irritation from the leather tunic. Her arms were left bare and the material clung to her sweaty form.

She did not mind Aragorn's presence and stepped into the water, scrubbing at the caked on blood on her skin. "You are not hindered by the amount of armor you wear?" she heard him ask.

Arathell shrugged and then realized that he hadn't been looking at her and wouldn't have seen the gesture. "I do not believe it does. It is nothing compared to some sets of armor that I have worn in the past. Elven armor is never very heavy to begin with. I don't wear the chainmail shirts which makes my weight smaller."

She heard him hum in response and rolled her eyes. "Was that the fear that has been wreaking havoc on your mind?" he asked softly.

Arathell paused in her ministrations, noticing how black the water had become around her. "No," she finally answered. "I still feel the evil that is waiting. Something else is going to happen." Again, he hummed. "Why do you worry so much over me? And do not say it is simply you being kind. You do not treat the others the way you treat me, and I disapprove of that. I am neither the one carrying the Ring nor the one who needs the greatest amount of protection. And yet you worry more over me than you do the others."

"Something has changed in you, Arathell," he remarked and she turned around to look at him, seeing that his back was still turned to her. She swallowed at the sight of him and felt a shiver race down her spine, thankful that he could not see her. The water seemed colder around her, constricting her and she did not like it. She moved back to the shore and grabbed her cloak, wrapping it around herself and drying her arms. "You have grown to care more for all of them than you used to."

"I have always cared for them," she replied dismissively and stood next to him.

He shook his head and turned to look at her. "You have always been a distant woman, Arathell. You rarely allow yourself to become overly invested in anyone. You are afraid to. You allowed Kara into your life because she was young and innocent with no record of darkness. You allowed me into it because I have never posed a threat to you before. But others… even your family, you do not let them in. It has always been as if you were ready for them to die, so that you would not feel the pain of when they would. But the Fellowship… they have become a part of you and you treat all of them as if you need to protect them and make sure that nothing bad befalls them."

"That is the purpose for the Fellowship," she answered, neglecting to respond to his jibe about her inability to grow close to people. It was far too true for her. She did not like getting close to people, because she knew that it was more than likely that she was going to have to say goodbye to them for some reason or other.

"You once told me that you joined this venture so that you would not feel as if you were doing nothing to stop the darkness. Now, you see yourself as a caretaker and perhaps a mother to the Hobbits."

"This does not answer my question about why you worry over me so," she retorted, pursing her lips in contempt and looking anywhere but at him.

He sighed and walked in front of her, forcing her to look at him. His fingers reached out to touch her cheek and then they traveled further until they touched the long tendrils of her hair. "What always made you so fierce in battle was the very ability to distance yourself and to not feel the pain around you. Now that you expect yourself to take care of everyone, instead of all of us taking care of each other, you have become slower and more prone to injury. You are not emotionless anymore."

"I thought you wanted me to feel something," Arathell replied quietly.

Aragorn pushed his forehead against hers. "You could very well be the death of me; did you know?" he remarked and she smirked and tried to keep her breathing soft. Her heart was racing in her chest at how close he was to her. If she pushed herself not even two inches further, her lips would be on his. But she couldn't. She would not do that to Arwen. She was many things, but she never wanted to be the whore who vied for another's love and acted upon such selfish desires. She pulled herself away completely and walked back to her own armor and began dressing herself again. "Of course I want you to feel something, Arathell," he murmured, carrying on with his lecture. "Feeling things allows us to still feel alive and they keep us from turning dark. Emotions make us good. However if feeling protective over the Fellowship causes you to get hurt then I would almost prefer you reject feeling such things. Arathell, if you were hurt…"

"I can heal, Aragorn," she argued, strapping her shoulder coverings on.

She heard him growl and was suddenly spun around in his arms and pushed against the rock that held her clothes. The sharpness dug into her back and made her wince, but he did not relent. "I swore to you that I would never leave you," he snapped at her and she froze, terrified. "I swore to you that I could never leave you. Why is it so important that I never leave you?" He gave her an angry shake. "Answer me!"

She released a shaky breath. "Because I need you," she replied as calmly as she could. "People have left before and I have adapted to their absence. But if you left, I do not know what I would do. You can't leave me because I'm scared of what I would become without you at my side."

His gaze softened, but his grip on her remained tight. "Is it so hard to believe that that is why I need you?" She cocked her head to the side, confused and still wary of whatever it was he was trying to say. "Arathell, you would be a fool to think that I do not need you just as fiercely as you claim to need me. You do not know what your pain or your death would do to me." Her lip trembled. "Woman… you have given me courage and strength and wisdom. You have even given me hope. If I lost you…Arathell, I cannot lose you."

She glanced to the side, afraid of what she was seeing in his eyes. She did not have her gift of visual truth, but she remembered the look well enough. Boromir had worn it once. Even Lindir… "You have Arwen if you lose me," she murmured. "I would have no one if you were taken from me, Aragorn. You are my truest friend."

He took a step into her so that she could feel his chest lightly pressed on hers. Her heart was in a perpetual state of restlessness and she couldn't stop herself from taking quick and shallow breaths as she looked up at him, forcing herself to avoid staring at his lips. "Is that all I am to you?" he whispered.


I'm evil. And I've accepted that. I really do wish that I was sorry… haha I'm evil. So… what is going on? Let me know your thoughts, dear readers! I'm really looking forward to hearing you on this one. Pretty please?

Side note: If you look at the appendices, the Fellowship is attacked once on the River, complete with big, flying, mysterious object.

Check out the music! This song is PERFECT for Arathell's feelings, and I know that next to none of you check out the songs I recommend, but this one you should definitely take a peek at! Will help greatly with understanding that inner turmoil that Arathell has going on. And all of the lyrics are spot on for her - deciding which segment to include at the beginning of the chapter was the hardest musical selection decision I have made thus far!

Love you all lots!

LM