They'd travelled for two more days, and Loena excluded herself from the rest of the Fellowship almost absolutely. The snow was far less fierce as they walked from the mountain; the storm seemed to have passed. The going was difficult, but no longer life threatening. Loena gave no word to the questions posed over where they'd stop, or where they'd sleep, or what they'd eat. She ate her food sullenly, and never volunteered to help. Always, always, she found herself looking at Frodo, and had to turn herself away.

If he irritates you so much, she asked herself crossly. Why stare at him so much?

She slept lightly, if she slept at all. The pain in her head was a constant, irritating ache. She had the urge to ask one of her companions to rub her shoulder, in case it came from tension in her muscles. But the desire to keep herself from them overwhelmed her before she could.

Loena's silence had extended until the two day mark. She'd not said a word to anyone.

They'd only been walking for a few hours. The ground was rock now, with only the odd splash of snow caught on the side of the path.

"Loena, wait here, with me," Gandalf said, and she snapped her head up in surprise. People had said her name, of course, in the days that had passed by, but none had communicated with her so directly. "Aragorn, take the others just up ahead."

Aragorn looked at Loena curiously, but nodded. "As you wish."

Loena watched the rest of the fellowship trail behind him.

"What's going on?" Pippin whispered to Merry.

"I don't know, Pip," Merry said, though he was looking back at Loena with a strange look as he said it.

Loena turned back to Gandalf, feeling the same way she had when her mother would come to scold her. The pounding in her head seemed to increase as she stood still. The urge to leave Gandalf, and go stand with the others was almost too strong to bear.

"Loena," Gandalf said finally, though she wasn't sure how she heard it through the ringing at the back of her head. "What plagues you?" He paused. "I apologise, if the manner by which I told you of Théoden has hurt you. That was never my intent."

Loena looked up at him. Grief at the memory of Théoden hollowed out a curve in her stomach. "I have been dwelling on it much. I feel I must return to Rohan, and do as much as I dare there."

"Accomplishing this quest will bring about the outcome that you seek," Gandalf said, and to her, he seemed rather gratified. "Once the Ring is destroyed, Rohan will be easily freed from the influence of Saruman."

"There is little certainty in that plan," Loena said quietly, with a renewed intensity.

Gandalf raised his eyebrows. "And I suppose you've thought of another one?"

"Give me the Ring, Gandalf," Loena said helplessly. She looked to where she knew Frodo stood, up ahead, under Aragorn's protection. Gandalf closed his eyes slowly, like this was a moment that grieved him. "I can still save Rohan. I can save Théoden, and drive back Saruman."

Gandalf looked at her, with a slow sadness. "The Ring will not give you that power, Loena."

"You told me that Théoden has become a slave to Saruman," Loena pressed desperately. "You told me that orc's cross Rohan with near no fear of retribution, cutting down my kinsmen as they go."

"The Ring cannot be wielded by anyone but Sauron," he said, though he said it with gentleness. "You know this, maiden."

Loena pictured her homeland burned to the ground, Orc's scampering over the remains of her houses, their horses, her people. She saw the great white hand of Saruman sweep across the plains, killing all, defiling all, in its wake.

"This sounds as if Rohan has fallen," Loena said, a tear falling from her eye, tracing down to the corner of her mouth. "There is no hope left."

"If the Ring is destroyed, hope remains," Gandalf said quietly.

"We are not enough," Loena snapped harshly. "We cannot hope to destroy it. We barely survived Caradhras, and we will not survive Moria."

"We are enough," Gandalf countered her. "Each of us here, gathered, have the strength to do what is needed."

"None could have the strength required," Loena said, her voice rising. She saw the camp disturb at her, but none turned to look. "Not a thousand Elves, or a Hundred wizards. The power of Mordor is too great."

"Frodo believes he can end this quest," Gandalf was obstinate. Loena wanted to tear at her hair in frustration, he wasn't listening to her.

"I don't care what he believes," Loena snarled. "He has no idea. None of you do! There is no hope, there is nothing." She held her jaw. "Nothing but the power we have placed in the hands of an underserving halfling."

"Then why do you stay with us, Loena?" Gandalf asked, his voice taking an edge. "Why don't you go home, lick your wounds, and wait for the inevitable!?"

"So you do refuse to give me the Ring," Loena said, feeling helpless and adrift. Tears burned her eyes. "You're as cruel as Saruman, allowing his creatures to ransack my country."

"You cannot wield it—"

"I could try—"

"The Ring has One master," Gandalf boomed, and Loena shrunk back from him, watching him with fear. A strange energy had come off him, an expounding, developing shock-wave, echoing around him. Across from them, the other members of the fellowship faced them. "And it's power has blinded you."

Loena began to cry, tears streaking down her face. The pain in her head was so deep and absolute that her sight was beginning to narrow, and narrow still.

"Why do you wish for the Ring?" Gandalf demanded, loud still, his voice deep and broad. "Why do you wish for it?"

"For the power…" Loena gasped against the pain, but pushed on. She was slumped against the rock beneath her, and her fingers dug against the hard of it. "For the pain—"

"Why?"

"For my king!" Loena gasped out. "To save him—"

"The Ring cannot save him! You know this—"

"For Rohan!"

"Stop lying, Loena—"

"For ME!" Loena exploded, and the pain in her head abated. When she looked at Gandalf, she barely saw him. She pushed passed him, desperate now to find Frodo, wrench the Ring from his grasp. She'd travel to Caradhras, she'd travel to the ends of the earth. She'd glimmer like a jewel, beautiful and powerful under the light of the sky. And all who had doubted, all who had thought she'd never live up to the namesake that she swore by, would look at her with wonder and with fear.

Gandalf caught her before she could struggle past him, and she lashed out at him, scraping her fingernails towards his face.

"Loena," he said roughly, dodging her attack and grasping her arm. For the appearance of such an old man, he was unnaturally strong. "Stop this! You are not yourself!"

"Let me go, Gandalf!" Loena howled, struggling against his vice-like grip. She twisted as hard as she could, and every moment that she delayed, the pain in her head built again and again. She lashed out, desperate, a cornered animal. "LET ME GO."

"You are not yourself!" Gandalf repeated, refusing.

The pain built, and built, and Loena felt revulsion and nausea stir in her stomach at the feeling. Once the pain had made her weak, with barely the strength in her arms to survive the snows of Caradhras. Now, however, the pain made her desperate, and strong. Frodo was right there, and soon she'd have the Ring—

Finally, lashing out as hard as she could, she heard a smashing of bone and skin. Gandalf was forced to drop her, and she scrambled off, the pain in her head abating enough for her sight to return to her. She saw that the Fellowship had gathered around themselves, Aragorn at the front, looking at her grimly. She knew Frodo would be in the middle.

You are not yourself, a thought demanded entry at the back of her mind. Stop this.

The pause was enough for the pain to build again, but it was also enough to make it slightly easier to bear.

She saw flashes, she saw Isildur beneath the tall figure of Sauron painted in Rivendell. She remembered when Bilbo told them of the riddles in the dark, when he had found the Ring, and its old master. Each tortured souls.

Suddenly Loena was very scared. So she stopped. And the world about her seemed to hold its breath.

The pain screamed in her head, worse than she had ever felt it. It felt as though a sword had been dug through the back of her skull. She fell to her knees, bone smarting at the pain, folding in on herself. The screaming red exploded at the back of her head.

She knew that the pain would end with each step she'd take but—

Every time I stop, the pain returns, Loena thought. She leant forward, fingernails digging into the dirt. She could barely see for the spots gathering in her eyes.

You are not yourself. That had been what Gandalf had said. He had been right.

Though now, in her pool of pain and torment, red and fiery and evil, she could not remember who she was.

Loena, a desperate voice reminded her. She repeated the name like a mantra. Loena, Loena. Loena.

Who was Loena?

Lost, she pushed herself up, but barely made it a few feet before she staggered forward and fell to the floor. Her hands slammed down, and her wearied body collapsed against the cold rock. She could barely feel it, slow and numbed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she would be hurting tomorrow.

Somehow, through the dampness and darkness, she could hear muffled shouting voices. There was a cool, friendly hand cupped on her face, and it felt like cool water on a warm day, but it was not enough.

She cried out, wrenching her hands to her head, pushing her hands into her hair.

And then, a shining, determined thought. Something long harboured, and long known. She saw it against a turning swirl of images; first Gandalf "the Ring is altogether evil", and Frodo smiling up at her and taking her hand, and Aragorn standing before her, telling her the tale of Isildur's bane upon her first knowing him. She saw all of them, and none of them at once, and many others beside that. They played off each other, were both different memories and the same ones at once.

And then, a moment of perfect clarity, she saw her mother smiling at her, laughing, reaching over and pushing Loena's hair back from her shoulder. Around her Rohan stretched on forever, and the air was clear, and the sky was blue. The wheat grass smelt sweet beneath her, and the sun cast her in its golden light.

She had hope. Buried deep, and oft forgot.

It was a foolish hope, and it was weak, but she clung to it as the storm raged around her.

I am Loena, of Rohan, she forced her mind to form the words, and the pain seemed to howl and increase against her. She fell against it weakly, terrified. She felt as though she were staggering up Caradhras again, stuck against determined, evil wings. I am Loena! I will not be bowed by you!

A king is not his country. Birds return north. Fire is furious but then it is doused. Scars fade, and fade, and return.

All fades.

A king is not his country. Horses fly like birds, and trees speak to the travellers who walk among them. Fire is biting and warm and the stars are never doused. Scars linger, like the cold.

Loena let the desperate fear go, and sobbed as it reared above her, almost corporeal in its thoroughness. It dissipated through her mind like a calming balm. The pain remained. She was unbowed, unbent, rigid and discerning. She was terrified, and freezing, and still the heavy, hot pain of desire for power screamed against her head.

Take it! Loena finally cried. It was a sacrifice she would make to be free, finally free, of the darkness that had dogged her steps.

After Loena had collapsed, the fellowship had gathered around her curiously. They'd seen her arguing loudly with Gandalf, and had seen him try to restrain. She'd barely been able to walk, but she looked rather like a dog as she'd stalked towards them. It had been obvious to Aragorn that Loena had been suffering since Gandalf and he had told her about her King.

They'd gathered around Frodo. Aragorn had stood to the front, and had felt grim when he'd looked into his friend's eyes, and seen nothing of her there.

But then she paused, jaw tight, eyes closed, and cried out.

And she'd collapsed.

"Loena!" Aragorn called, running towards her. Behind him, he felt the hobbits remain with Frodo, and Boromir, Legolas and Gimli come behind him.

They came upon her quickly, and Aragorn cradled her head. He saw some of the anguish dissipate as he placed his hand on the side of her head. He kept it there hopelessly, though, as the anguish returned, and she cried out again.

"The Ring did this to her," Boromir said, voice low with disgust.

"It's evil is absolute," Legolas said, voice tight with emotion.

"Loena!" Aragorn called to her, pulling his hands away from her head and held her fingers. She didn't squeeze back, but he heard her murmur.

"Come on, Lass," Gimli said softly.

Then, barely like a whisper, she made out; "all fades."

"Is she dying?" Legolas demanded.

"No," Gandalf announced themselves from behind them. He was a mess; his nose bled where Loena had smashed against it in her escape. He looked exhausted. "The Ring's hold on her was very strong, but not that strong." He looked bitter. "I should have seen it."

"We all should have," Aragorn replied grimly. All fades. He grasped her hands a little tighter.

"The old stories never mentioned this in Isildur's trials after he claimed the Ring," Boromir said, fearfully.

"The Ring is a master of manipulation," Gandalf said. He was looking down upon Loena with enormous pity. She had stopped struggling, and seemed to be more peaceful. Her brow was no longer furrowed, and her mouth was slightly agape, like she was sleeping. "It will find any chinks in the armour. Especially," he looked furious. "When that chink has been placed there by a servant of its master."

"You think the White Wizard allowed for this?" Legolas asked, eyes wide. "You think he can reach us here?"

"No, his power is not that great yet," Gandalf said. "But there was something rotten festering in Rohan, and it infected all who came into contact with it. It was as I feared – we have little chance of friendship in Rohan."

"The Ring sensed this," Legolas surmised, looking back to the hobbits, who now guarded the Ringbearer with their little swords back in their sheaths. They were gathered less tightly, and seemed to be discussing whether or not to wander back over.

"Yes," Aragorn said finally. "Saruman ensured Loena was an easy target, whether on purpose or incidentally."

"How did it take so long for her to fall?" Boromir asked, shaking his head. "We travelled with the Ring for months."

"It had not counted on the strength of her spirit," Gandalf said, rather fondly, coming down beside Loena and holding his head over her brow. He closed his eyes, murmuring to himself. When he opened them again, he looked aggrieved. "But when the news of Saruman's hold on her king broke her heart, her defences were gone. The Ring sensed this."

"Is Miss Loena alright?" It was Sam that came up behind them. Merry followed him, and then Pippin, and a cautious Frodo at the end.

"She will be," Gandalf answered, drawing himself up from beside her. "That is to say, she will not be alright. But she will wake soon."

Sure enough, Loena began to stir, her mouth closing, and her shoulders pushing against the rock she lay on.

"Gandalf?" she called, eyes still closed, a sheen of sweat over the sickly white of her face.

"Here, Loena," he told her, holding her hand.

She opened her eyes, and Aragorn caught his breath when he saw—

For instead of her dark blue irises, a white sheen had fallen across her eyes. Like a sickness.

"I can't see," she said, voice weak.

"What's wrong with her eyes?" Pippin asked Merry in a low voice.

Her desire for the Ring had taken Loena's sight.

Aragorn looked at Gandalf, who seemed grave, but unsurprised.

"We must get her to Lothlórien," Legolas said quickly. "The magic of the elves could cure her."

"Yes," Gandalf nodded slowly. To Aragorn, his words were too slow, too laboured, too sad, to be convincing. "But for now, she will have to reckon with the efforts of a Ranger and an old man." Gandalf turned to Loena, who was staring unseeing into the sky. She didn't seem surprised by the outcome. "Loena, Aragorn and I will try to right this, but I cannot promise too much success."

"Leave it," she said despondently. Her voice was so light, and sad. "It is my penance. For breaking my oath."

"No oath was broken," Gandalf corrected her. "Frodo is well, and the Ring remains within his grasp."

"Leave it, Gandalf—"

"No," Gandalf interrupted her, growing irritated. "I would not let you take the Ring, and nor would I have let you suffer for resisting its power." He paused. "Do you desire it still?"

Loena paused, and nodded slowly. Aragorn felt his heart sink. "I do, but…" she swallowed. "It is manageable."

All fades, Aragorn remembered. He held the hand nearest to him, whilst Gandalf maintained his hold on the other.

"Then you are back to normal," Gandalf said, relieved. "For all desire the Ring. How is the pain in your head?"

At this Loena let out a soft sigh, and even smiled. "Gone."

Gandalf smiled in relief, and moved his hand to the side of his head. He looked to Aragorn, who nodded in understanding.

The two of them worked on Loena for the next hour. Aragorn murmured in Sindarin even as he just held her hand. Gandalf's staff glowed intermittently as he worked, and he grew increasingly tired as the hour raged on. By the time the sun had come to its zenith, Aragorn was shaking from exhaustion.

The others had gone back to their camp, preparing lunch and talking in a low voice. As they worked, each would turn to look back with curiosity.

When they were done, they sat Loena up. She blinked her dead eyes as she rose, and looked around. She looked first in Gandalf's direction, and then his.

"How goes your sight, Lady?" Aragorn asked her.

"I can make out…some brief flashes of light," Loena said, slowly, voice like a foal's first, uneasy step. "Barely."

"It may not feel like much of a victory," Gandalf said. "But it was an important moment of healing. Now your sight may be restored by those with healing powers stronger than ours."

Loena nodded her understanding, and stood. She nearly toppled, and Aragorn shot up to catch her. She leant against him, before pushing off, tottering on her uncertain feet.

"Here," he said, grasping her wrist and placing her hand on her arm. "Walk with me."

"Aragorn—" she started.

But he cut her off. "I know what you would say, Loena." He felt her hand tense against his arm. "And I would not hear it. We will not send you back, without sight."

"I cannot come with you," Loena countered, jaw tight. "I would put the entire Fellowship in danger."

"We will not desert a friend," Gandalf said.

Loena looked unconvinced. "I broke my oath."

"Nearly," Gandalf allowed. "But, in the end, you did not."

Loena hesitated yet. Then, in a soft voice. "I cannot face him."

"Frodo will forgive you, and will do so easily," Aragorn said softly. He gazed upon her, and saw how she bowed her head in shame. Her hands began to twist together, fingers tugging at fingers. "These bonds of fellowship are strong ones." He looked at her intently. "Do not think I didn't notice your isolation, Loena. It is in the strength of our dedication to each other that we will prevail. The Ring knew this, it was why it made you lonely, forced you into aloneness."

"I am alone now," Loena said, emotion filling her voice, and tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "Alone now in a dark world. There is nothing, it is absolute." She shuddered a breath, and blinked hard, and worked so no tears would fall. "Forgive me." She shook her head. "I will endure this."

"I trust that you will."

The going became slower with Loena blinded. She learnt how to do many things for herself quickly, but there were some that she couldn't. She could eat well, and learnt to dress herself in the dark. She could draw and sheath her sword with relative fluidity, and she could roll out her bed-stuff on feel alone.

Walking was difficult. She would hold onto a rope tied onto the back of Aragorn's pack, and he would direct her should the terrain become difficult. She felt like she were a horse being led by its rider, and she did not like the feeling at all. However, she knew better than to complain.

Sometimes, when the going was especially treacherous, he or Boromir would carry her like a child.

She never felt more useless when that happened, though both made an effort to keep her spirits up. Aragorn might sing, or Boromir might tell her stories. At first both the songs and the stories were things of old, but as those ran out, they'd come to newer, more interesting things. Aragorn sung songs he'd heard composed around near the Shire, and even a few riding and drinking songs from Rohan that Loena had never heard. Boromir ran out of stories of great warriors of Minas Tirith, and began to tell her about his brother and their shared childhood.

"Never a great warrior, our Faramir," Boromir chuckled to himself. Loena like it when he laughed, she could feel the vibrations under her fingers. "The cleverest of men, though, and the kindest. He is well loved by the men he leads."

"I should like to meet him again," Loena said, barely remembering the shy Steward's son with a scraggly mop of hair and sad, blue eyes from a lifetime ago.

"Then you shall," Boromir pronounced. "Though I may need to warn you in advance, he would not make a great husband. His head is always in some book or another."

Loena laughed.

At the middle of the day, or at night, the hobbits came out to her. Slowly and hesitantly at first, but with more gumption as the days went on. Sam was the kindest, always asking how she was, patting her hand as he walked beside her so that she'd know he was there. Pippin was the loudest, and most cheerful. He was the first one to make jokes around her after it had happened, which she appreciated. All had started to treat her as though she were a walking corpse. Merry told her the most stories about the Shire, and would regale her with the trouble she and Frodo would get up to whenever they were forced to visit their wretched relative's the Sackville-Bagginses.

Frodo was the most quiet. He spoke to her, in his high, keen voice, but never for very long, and never alone. She did not blame him for being wary, for the temptation of the Ring was still there. Every day it faded more, and it was nothing compared to the drive that had burnt her mind and clouded her sight, but she knew in her heart that it would never truly disappear.

She was sitting alone, eating and listening out around her. With her sight gone, she relied on her ears more than ever. She was surprised at their increasing sensitivity. She heard Frodo approach, and she knew it was Frodo from the sound of the fine armour he wore under his shirt. She did not think anyone else knew about it, but with her hearing the way it was, it was impossible not to notice.

"Loena," he said softly, coming before her.

"Frodo," she answered, her voice equally quiet. "Have you come to sit with me?"

Frodo swallowed. "Yes."

"I'll make some room-?"

"No, I'm fine to sit just here," Frodo said, stammered really, and she heard him slide to the ground, and tuck his cloak around himself.

"I am so sorry," Loena said, wishing she could find Frodo's eyes with her own to prove how emphatic she was. "I can't—"

"There's nothing to apologise for," Frodo said, and Loena's heart beat painfully as she heard how tired he was, and how sincere. "I promised I would help you carry your burden, remember?"

Loena remembered. Those fleeting moments before the hold of the Ring had descended, and after she'd learnt about Théoden. Perhaps if she'd been stronger in that moment, and taken Frodo's words to heart, she might've resisted the Ring completely.

"Of course," she said, voice still soft. "But…" she balled her hands together. "Frodo…I did not bear my burden at all. I dropped it, completely." She did not want to sound self-pitying, but she felt it honestly. "I have not the strength that you do, that all the others do."

"I know you are trying to punish yourself," Frodo said. "But you must not. When we come to Lothlórien, you must accept their healing help." Frodo paused, before, "I know you told Gandalf and Aragorn to leave you completely blind."

Loena raised her head, and could just make out the blurry shape of Frodo in front of her. It hurt her eyes, and strained them, so she dropped her sight again. "It is as I deserve. An oath-breaker, a deceiver."

"You broke no oaths, and deceived no one," Frodo said firmly. "Saruman had infected you. The Ring is a power none here could hope to fight against. You resisted, in the end, and that alone is worthy of praise." He stopped, and took a shuddering breath. "I know better than most the power of the Ring's…charms. I know how it casts a net into your mind, feels for your weaknesses, and manipulates them as easily as you or I breathe."

"I did not know where my own greed ended, and its greed began," Loena admitted. She had spent most of the past few days meditating on her time as a near-mute, raging against all who were around her. "Or where my true feelings lay and its…hatred began."

"I understand," Frodo said simply, and she felt him hold her hand. Just as they had done when they'd turned away from the Gap of Rohan.

She heard Gandalf murmur to Aragorn, and pulled herself up.

"Come," she said. "Gandalf shall be announcing that we are moving on in just a moment."

Frodo was surprised. "How did you hear that? He and Aragorn are on the other side of camp."

"When sight leaves, the other senses strive to compensate," Loena explained with a shrug. "I've seen it before, in Rohan, with the blind who walk the city streets."

"How intriguing," Frodo said, much more the curious Hobbit she'd met in Rivendell than he had been in a long time. "Are there many of these blind men in Rohan?"

Loena laughed, and it felt like a breath of fresh air. The last time she must have laughed, would have been when Boromir was sparring with Merry and Pippin, and then she had laughed so hard that her stomach had hurt. That had been weeks ago.

"Come, walk with me," Loena said. "When we start up again. I'll tell you everything I know."