A/N

Aragorn: Legolas, what do your elf eyes see?

Legolas: I see two idiots.

Aragorn: ?

Legolas: One of them looks just like you.

Days turned into weeks and Josephine waited impatiently to be summoned. The day of their departure drew closer and she still hadn't been called to speak with Galadriel. She was the last person Josephine could hope to get answers from and she was just wandering around practicing with Legolas and brooding, wondering if she'd even get an audience with her.

But finally, the week that they were set to leave, one of the Elves led her to the garden. Galadriel stood by the mirror, it was already glistening and full of water. Josephine wasn't sure how she felt about the unspoken invitation. Her own mind came up with enough scenarios to worry about, she didn't need the help.

"Josephine." She greeted her as she came down the steps. "A strange name from a strange land. A Seer who says she is not such."

"Because as far as I've been told, Seers know the Great Song. I don't, that's not the reason I know what's going on." Josephine was wary, worried about getting no answers, or getting too many. "You said you've met one before?"

"Yes. Long ago by your reckoning. They were much like you are, fearing the end of their journey almost more than the journey itself for they could not know where their final path would lead."

"Were they from my world, or one like it? Did they get sent back?"

Galadriel shook her head slowly and Josephine's stomach fell. She gripped the edge of the mirror to steady herself and tried to stop herself from getting light headed.

"Your fate is intertwined with this world; it is not so easily severed." Galadriel said calmly. "The sooner you accept this, the easier it will be to bear."

Josephine had begun to consider never going home a long time ago, but it had only been a question. It was something entirely different to have it told to her by one of the wisest beings in Middle-Earth. She didn't even dare question it. If she wasn't sure, Josephine figured she wouldn't have said anything about it at all.

Galadriel placed her hand along the edge of the mirror and looked at her across from it. "You know the power of the mirror?"

Josephine stared at her, avoiding looking down into the water at all costs. It was a great honor to be allowed to look into it, but she'd already seen too much. "I know what Frodo will see in it when you bring him here."

"Will you look into it for yourself?" She asked curiously.

Did she dare? Did she dare not?

Nervously Josephine lowered her eyes to the water, clear as glass and reflecting her frightened face back up at her. For a moment nothing happened, and then a breeze blew through the garden, rippled the water, and it changed.

She was in Helm's Deep, staring at the doors of the hall in a vain hope that they'd be pushed open. Night fell along the Deeping Wall and the Uruk leader approached at the front of the host, he held Anduril in his left hand and a severed head by the hair in his right. A head with dark hair and gray eyes.

Josephine stumbled back. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Do not make the mistake of thinking your task is not of utmost need." Galadriel said gravely. "If you fail-"

"No shit." She snapped, her breath heaving in her chest. "But it didn't have to show me that to make me believe it!"

Galadriel didn't respond to her anxiety and remained calm. "Knowing and understanding are two different things. Before, you only knew. Now you truly understand."

Hand pressed flat against her chest she backed up towards the stone stairs. "Are we done here?"

With a slow nod, Galadriel gave her leave and Josephine ran out of the garden. She tripped on the hem of her dress as she ran through the city, back towards the Fellowship's pavilion. When she got there, he was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Aragorn?" She asked breathlessly, looking between the Hobbits and Gimli who had looked up from their meal, a bit startled by her abrupt interruption.

"I think he walked to that little garden down the way." Sam said, pointing down further from the pavilion. "Is everything alright, Miss Josephine?"

Was it ever? Especially now? Bunching her skirt up in her fist she ran off again without answering him.

With few days left in their time in Lorien, Aragorn took to walking to ease his nerves. Like Boromir he had gotten little rest, though his reasons were far different from Boromir's. Cerin Amroth had haunted him in his every spare moment. It had felt like a dream, but a dream more real than all his days before.

He had taken her there with no other thought but that she should experience its beauty before the opportunity was lost. Of all the darkness they'd seen, of all that would come, she would perhaps find a moment's peace upon the mound.

And peace she'd found. Her steps through the elanor made her seem as if she were floating, gazing up at the trees above her with a smile so clear he thought it might sustain him for the rest of his days. He couldn't take in the land around them or see the things she did because he hadn't been able to look from her. And he hadn't wanted to.

There could be no other for the rest of his days to which he would love so dearly. But he was not blind, it came with a price if he were to give it and she were to accept. A price he was not certain he could ask her to pay.

Swift footfalls stole his attention and he turned barely in time for Josephine's arms to wrap around him tightly. She was weeping and trembling terribly, holding onto him as if he'd dare try to pull away.

"Josephine?" He whispered, brushing his hand through her hair and kissing the top of her head. "Please, tell me what grieves you?" He could hardly bear not knowing, being unable to soothe it for her.

Josephine left Galadriel's garden with only one thing she could think of to do. She had to find him, see him, feel that he was still there. Be the one place she could think of that would make her feel like everything wasn't hopeless. The image of his head held up in the fist of the Uruk-hai lingered, smoldering behind her eyes like a coal about to start a fire that would burn everything in its wake. "I looked in her mirror." She answered between shaky breaths. "If I mess things up-"

"You will not." He assured her, believing it wholeheartedly. He could not imagine what she had seen, nor could she tell him even if she wished it. The future was not for him to know, but none could convince him she would not do everything in her power to see them through it. "Visions from the mirror are not promised."

"I can't watch that happen. I couldn't…Aragorn - I can't let it happen, I can't…" She couldn't say what she'd seen or explain what it meant.

"Shhh, muin pen, sîdh."

If it happened like the mirror showed, how could she ever forgive herself for losing him, for killing him? She would watch Middle-Earth burn with the image from the Deeping Wall in her mind until she finally burned with it.

The morning of their departure dawned cold, the first hint of winter that they'd felt since entering the woods. Elves laid out bundles of supplies and helped them pack the three boats waiting for them at the docks.

Then it was time for the final farewells and a cloak was clasped around each of their shoulders, light and warm against the chill. Josephine put the edge of it between her two fingers, trying to understand how it could feel so strong and be as light as tissue paper.

She wasn't sure what to expect as Galadriel bestowed her gifts, following the choices of the movie with daggers for Merry and Pippin instead of only belts.

When she paused in front of Josephine there was a sword and scabbard in her hand.

"You have many trials ahead of you and for that, a blade worthy of such deeds." Galadriel hung it for her at her hip on a belt with a silver clasp. "The blade drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or broken even in defeat. May it aid you in your journey and protect those whom you love." Her voice sounded in Josephine's head once again but this time it didn't startle her.

"Your fate is not one of sadness, there is hope to be found if you trust in it."

When all the gifts had been given they got into the boats and she sat behind Gimli as he told them what his gift had been, three hairs braided and set in a small silver box that he now had in his pocket.

She leaned over her shoulder to Legolas and mumbled under her breath, "Do you think he knows what it meant for her to give him those?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Perhaps one day we will tell him."