"Gandalf!" she exclaimed, peeling herself away from the situation at hand, astonished by his incredible timing. When she whirled around, however, she gasped and shrieked.

The wizard looked pale; he was sweating and utilizing his staff to support him. Seeing his poor condition, Avalain ripped her hand from Boromir's and sprinted towards the wizard, immediately throwing one of his arms around her shoulder so he could use her as another support.

Gandalf chuckled, although the sound was humorless. His voice, however, was not devoid of concern when he mumbled, "I'm all right, Avalain. It's all right."

"What happened to you?" she whispered, not moving from helping the grey wizard.

"Later," he murmured back, and that was all Avalain got out of him.

By this point, Boromir and Faramir had both made their way towards the wizard and the She-Elf and offered the older man a chair. Faramir rushed towards the table to get a glass of water, but before anyone else could do anything, the Steward of Gondor propelled himself out of his chair and shouted, "Mithrandir! What is the meaning of your unannounced entrance?"

Avalain's eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to defend Gandalf—but a gentle hand on her arm stopped her from speaking. She looked upward to see Boromir give her a meaningful look; he then responded, "That should be a secondary concern, father. It is clear that Mithrandir has travelled long and hard to reach us. We should focus first on his well-being."

When he finished speaking, he glanced again at Avalain, who was admittedly very thankful for this interjection. The She-Elf descended to her knees, her hand on Gandalf's forehead.

"You feel feverish," she fretted, eyebrows furrowed.

Gandalf, however, merely chuckled. "It has been a long and hard journey, is all. And summer is upon us, my dear."

With these words, he groaned and rose himself out of the chair, once again using his staff to lean on as he addressed the Steward with, "My apologies for the sudden interruption of what looks to be lovely festivities, Lord Denethor! But, if you do not mind so much, I must do two things as quickly as possible. First off, I need to visit the Library of Ecthelion. And secondly, I must deprive you of Lady Nightshade tonight."

"Tonight?" exclaimed Avalain, Boromir, and Faramir all at once.

"Yes. It is a matter of utmost urgency, I assure you," sighed the wizard. His piercing blue eyes located Avalain's, and the look that ran through them was one she had seen many times before.

At these words, the She-Elf and the two brothers exchanged looks. It was clear that they all respected and believed Gandalf's words, and the last thing they wished to do was cause him strife after what looked to be such a taxing journey.

And so it was that Boromir nodded and broke the silence by saying, "You are most welcome to peruse the library. If Avalain chooses to set off tonight with you, I could help her pack her things."

The wizard nodded and smiled plaintively, his gaze landing on Avalain. "And would that be your choice, my dear?"

Knowing that whatever Gandalf needed help with had to take priority, she nodded and glanced at Boromir before saying, "Yes. If you need me, I shall go."

A silence fell across the room as Avalain sighed and turned away from the wizard. She studied the dozen Men that were still within the room, all of whom she had grown to enjoy being in the company of. They were watching her with a mix of confusion, sadness, and supportiveness; it was clear they would be sad to see her go, but they knew that it would be what was best for both her and Gandalf.

Faramir's voice was far away as he declared, "Come, Mithrandir, I can show you to the library."

Gandalf nodded and followed, no other words spoken.

Once they were gone, Avalain looked at Boromir and asked, "If you are willing, I might need help getting my things together…"

"Of course," he instantly replied, but before the two of them could take more than two steps towards the door, they were interrupted by none other than the Steward of Gondor.

"My dear, I didn't quite catch what you were attempting to say before the wizard arrived," simpered the Steward, his face completely devoid of any of the warmth his voice might've had.

Avalain swallowed and was exasperated to find that she had just been put back into the situation that Gandalf had so skillfully maneuvered her out of. Now that she had had more time to think, however, Avalain knew exactly what she was going to say.

"I'd like to ask Boromir a question before I say anything public—and no, you are not in trouble," she added as a giggle. She had seen Boromir raise his eyebrows and figured that it would at least be kind of her to reassure him that she wasn't angry about what had occurred. Turning away from the Steward and towards his son, she said, "I just want to ask about what will happen when I see you again."

It was obvious that this clarification relieved him somewhat. Sensing that it was time for them to speak more in-depth about the proposal—and preferably away from other uninvolved parties—Boromir quickly suggested, "Why don't you and I exchange ideas while we pack your belongings?"

Avalain jumped on the opportunity and shot him a grateful smirk. "I'd like that."

And before the Steward could halt their progress once again, the two of them exited the room, leaving the scene of the party, the guests, and the Steward behind. As soon as the door closed behind them, both Boromir and Avalain released identical sighs of reprieve. The two stared at each other for a moment before snickering and rushing down the hallway towards Avalain's room.

Once they reached her room, Avalain peered among the hallway to make sure they hadn't been followed by anyone. Realizing that they were indeed alone, she opened the door, ushered Boromir inside, and closed it behind him. Instantly, she whirled around and exclaimed, "Boromir! You scared me half to death!"

"So I gathered," he remarked, a trace of a smirk occupying his face. His expression sobered when he continued with, "But I meant every word, Avalain. I figured that… if I did not know when I would be seeing you again, I had to tell you exactly what you meant to me. I owed you that much."

Avalain sighed and took another step into the room. The bed was unmade, although that was truthfully the messiest part of the place. Her bow and quiver of arrows were leaning neatly against the wall, and the two dresses she had brought with her from Mirkwood were hanging in the wardrobe on the far side of the wall. Otherwise, all she would need would be food and water rations.

Still, she moved forward and grabbed her leather knapsack with the intention of gathering what she owned. As she scoured the wardrobe, she remarked, "I know how difficult it is to leave when there is so much to be said. That is why I will tell you now: I care for you, Boromir. I care for you deeply. But I am uncertain if… if I am ready to give my entire self into romantic love again."

At the end of this sentence, Avalain located her two spare dresses and tossed them upon the bed so she could pack them. For the current moment, however, her primary concern was relaying her feelings and concerns to the person she felt closest to. She took a step toward Boromir and held eye contact with him while she said, "I need time to… to complete my healing and realize what it truly is that I want. I don't want to say no, but I'm not ready to say yes, so… I suppose what I am trying to say is… I—I need a little more time. For myself, if no one else."

Avalain found herself stammering over her words at the end, trying to find a way to put what she was feeling in a gentle manner. But it was difficult, much more difficult than she had imagined…

Fortunately, she was saved by Boromir himself, who grabbed her hands and, with a look of genuine understanding, said, "It's all right, Avalain. You told me about your past, and I know it has been hard on you. If I can help you in any way, tell me—and if I cannot, then I will wait for you. I do not know when I will see you again, but perhaps that time can provide the healing you need. I will wait, if you are willing to consider being with me. You are a woman worth waiting for."

Avalain felt herself turn a dark shade of pink as he spoke, and she was certain he saw it based on the chuckle that escaped his lips when she next glimpsed at him. All she could manage to stutter was, "Y-yes. I'd like… that."

"Then we can speak again about it when you are ready," concluded Boromir, a sideways grin on his face.

The She-Elf began to nod, her gaze still at the ground. She opened her mouth to state that it was probably time to proceed to the library and find Gandalf, but before the words could leave her mouth, she felt him gently kiss her temple. The kiss was so faint that Avalain almost didn't notice—but she did, and the gesture caused her to shiver in plaintive joy.

Without saying anything more, Boromir moved forward to open the door and gestured for Avalain to pass through. Before she stepped back into the hallway, however, the She-Elf found herself glancing about it one last time. It had been a place of happiness and love. It was hard to leave it.

"I'll be back here," she stated, more to herself than to Boromir. But when she looked back at him, a comforted smile was upon his face as well.

"Indeed. And with luck, it will not be terribly far off."

Now it was Avalain who stepped forward and grabbed his hand. She looked at him for a moment before raising it to her lips and brushing a feather-light kiss upon his knuckles. With that simple gesture, her bravery immediately wore away and she skittered back to where she had been standing before, her face the shade of a cherry.

Boromir chuckled and placed the hand she had kissed upon her flushed face, his brown eyes drinking in her features for the briefest of moments. He then reached for the door handle and opened it, the joyous smile converting to a rueful one.

"Mithrandir will be waiting for you."

Avalain nodded, knowing that he was right. With silence as their guide, the two navigated the hallways towards the foyer and the exit.

When they reentered the room that the celebration had taken place in earlier, the She-Elf was not terribly surprised to find the guests still present, waiting to say their final farewells.

Faramir was the first to move forward, arms extended. Avalain rushed into them, embracing the soldier tightly. She rested her head upon his shoulder, already missing the feeling of security and friendship that he had provided her for the past months. As she held him close, she heard him say, "Travel safe, Avalain. May we see you again sooner than we think. I will miss you."

"I will miss you too, Faramir. Farewell, my dear friend."

At these words, the younger son of the Steward smiled and pulled away from the embrace. They shared one last look before he stepped away and allowed Lieutenant Uthrain to say goodbye.

For the following few minutes, Avalain shared hugs with all her friends: it was difficult to leave, but again… she now had a last pleasant memory to hold of them until she did return. After saying farewell to Gryffin and Dalgrad—the two of them had insisted on being last, since other than Boromir and Faramir, they had been the first two to meet her—she stepped away and looked toward the Steward, who was still sitting stiffly upon the throne.

She bowed low to the ground, despite her newfound contempt for the man. Forcing her voice to remain as charming as possible, she declared, "Thank you, my Lord, for your gracious hospitality throughout my stay. Even if Elves and Men may not be allies in ink, I will leave here believing that we are allied in spirit."

Lord Denethor smirked, though not entirely unkindly. He placed a hand upon his chest and bowed his head, the only sign that he seemed willing to show.

Restraining a grumble or two, Avalain turned back to Boromir, who waved towards the doors. He held out his arm—and she gladly took it. The gesture caused a few of their friends to break out in whispers, which only made the She-Elf and the soldier of Gondor chuckle.

The walk to the stables was reflective. Avalain knew that in only a few short moments, she would be saying her final farewell… and although she had done it a dozen times just a handful of minutes ago, she knew this one would be the hardest.

When they arrived, Gandalf was in fact waiting for her. He no longer looked winded at all—as a matter of fact, he appeared quite anxious to set off.

"Thank you for escorting her out here quickly, Boromir," the wizard said, his voice soft. "And for treating my dear girl with such kindness during her stay. I will not deny I was concerned when I sent her here, but you have put my fears to rest."

"I was more than happy to welcome her. She will always have a place in Gondor," replied Boromir, although he looked at Avalain herself while speaking this last. It made the woman smile; after eight months, she really did feel like she belonged.

Gandalf chuckled and muttered, "Of that, I have no doubt." He then cleared his throat before turning to his pupil. "Before we set out, I must tell you why and where we are going, Avalain. But first… perhaps you would like to say farewell?"

Avalain nodded, though the action felt like her head was moving through syrup. She turned toward Boromir and opened her mouth to try and say… something, anything—but before she could get a word out, he raised a hand.

"I think I already know what you wish to tell me… just as you probably know all I want to tell you," he declared, lowering his hand to grasp one of her own. His eyes glowed in the low torchlight; Avalain found herself staring back into them, mirroring the sorrow and care that were present in his.

"I think you're right," she laughed, shaking her head.

Boromir grinned at this and embraced her. The She-Elf immediately responded in kind, burying her face in the crook of his neck, longing to remember all she could about the moment. She wanted to remember his warmth and the tightness with which he kept her close, and how he made her feel safe, how he made her feel hopeful.

After a minute, they moved back, knowing that each of them had the same wistful thoughts flying through their minds, even if neither spoke them aloud.

"I will see you soon," Avalain promised, longing to break the silence.

"I believe you," replied Boromir, stepping away from Avalain and Gandalf. "Will you write when you arrive to… wherever it is you will be going?"

Avalain laughed at that, if only because it was amusing that all her plans were going to pot once again and now she had no idea where she'd be off to. But she nodded nonetheless and said, "Of course I will."

The soldier smiled at that. "Watch over her, Mithrandir," he chuckled—and then he turned around and was gone.

The She-Elf sighed once he was out of sight… but she didn't allow herself to dwell on it for too long. She turned back to the wizard and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell her where they were going and why.

After looking around suspiciously for anyone who might be eavesdropping, Gandalf exhaled sharply and leaned forward. "Now, Avalain, I owe you an explanation. You… of course you remember the company of dwarves that passed through Rivendell just sixty years ago."

The circlet upon Avalain's head became heavier, and the breeze suddenly chilled her to the bone. She nodded drearily. "I am likely to never forget."

The wizard nodded somberly before resuming. "And do you recall the hobbit, Bilbo Baggins?"

Avalain's smile returned, though it was admittedly a little burdened by memories. "I do, at that. We have exchanged letters over the years. I visited the Shire not twenty years ago to reunite with him for a brief time."

"And during that time, did he tell you anything more about his adventures?"

"Only that he plans on returning to Rivendell someday," replied the She-Elf. She raised an eyebrow then and suspiciously asked, "Why?"

Gandalf exhaled once again, shaking his head. Under his breath, he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Ridiculous hobbit," before clearing his throat. "There is something that he may not have told you. During his travels through the Misty Mountains, he encountered the very creature I had you hunt down a number of months ago—Gollum. And… Bilbo managed to take something of his."

Avalain blinked, unsure of where this was leading. But she gestured the wizard onward anyway.

"The object that our hobbit took was a ring. I have witnessed some of its power, and I have discovered through the final accounts of Isildur himself, that Bilbo took the One Ring. And as he has promised, he has set off for Rivendell, leaving that Ring in the care of his nephew, Frodo Baggins."

The She-Elf placed a hand over her heart. She remembered the young hobbit Frodo—he had charmed her from the very moment she walked through the door of Bag-End. He had showed her around his uncle's garden and the orchards on the west side of Hobbiton. He had been one of the highlights of her visit to the Shire…

The thought that such a bright, innocent soul was carrying the darkest power Middle-earth had seen in thousands of years made her heart churn. She had always been fascinated by history, including the tale of the war of the Ring. But this, this history coming to life and endangering Middle-earth, was far more sinister than she had anticipated Gandalf's words to be.

Sauron returning was one thing. The revelation of where his greatest weapon was drew two pieces of a lethal puzzle together.

"We hid this information very well so far, but evil things are stirring in Mordor. You have lived here the past eight months, Avalain. You have seen the fires brewing, and the Orcs that rally to the Black Gates. And I have also encountered something even more dangerous. The Nine have returned and are hunting the Ring even as we speak."

Avalain gasped. Disbelief tore at her, but her faith in her mentor told her that what he said was true. "Gandalf, what can I do about these things? I am but one Rivendell elf! Why not speak to the Steward of Gondor?"

"The Steward is hardly the person to turn to when one requires assistance, as I'm sure you've discovered," the wizard muttered, somewhat bitterly.

At that, the She-Elf had to agree. Noting her assent, Gandalf continued. "There is more. The Nine are after the Ring, and though Aragorn and I hunted the creature Gollum for many months, the Enemy found him first… and now the Nine know that the Ring is in the hands of Baggins, in a land called the Shire."

"But that would lead them straight to Frodo!" exclaimed Avalain.

"I have already sent Frodo to the village of Bree. I have promised to meet him at the inn of the Prancing Pony, but I must make a detour. I fear that my visit may make me late, but you shall meet him at the inn. Aragorn is already waiting there. Together, you will guide Frodo to Rivendell. There he shall be safe, and once the matter of the Ring is decided in council, he shall be free from burden."

"Tell me about Frodo so that I may recognize him," Avalain requested.

The wizard exhaled in relief and placed a hand upon her shoulder. He described the hobbit's appearance: short, with brown curled hair and bright-blue eyes, and that he should be going by the name of Underhill.

Avalain nodded, internalizing this description. With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and looked towards Belutha, who was stamping impatiently in her stall.

"Ready for a long journey?" questioned the Rivendell elf.

The horse whinnied, her snout nuzzling Avalain's arm.

She laughed and looked once again toward the wizard, who was watching the interaction with a paternal nostalgia. He blinked rapidly and walked over to his own horse, saying, "I shall see you soon, Avalain. Very soon, if the Valar allow it."

"Be safe, Gandalf," the She-Elf bade, raising an eyebrow. She knew the wizard well enough to know that the only reason he might be delayed was if he ran into danger.

He nodded curtly, although not unkindly. Without any further delay, the two saddled their steeds and began the descent to the gates of Minas Tirith so they might both complete their tasks.