With no sign of the argument ending soon, Arwen gathered up her things and retreated inside the house. Boromir exhaled deeply through his nostrils as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was beginning to regret telling his daughter that he was leaving, but he could hardly keep it from her.

It turned out that the rumour his father had told him was true: the long lost One Ring of Power, forged by the Dark Lord, Sauron, had been found – and in the possession of the hobbit Frodo Baggins, of all people! When Isildur was killed in an orc ambush, the ring fell into the river Anduin where it remained for more than two thousand years, until it was found by the creature Gollum who retreated with it into the Misty Mountains. There it had remained with him until, by one coincidence after another, it was picked up by the hobbit Bilbo Baggins, who then passed it on to his nephew, Frodo.

The council had spent much time debating on what to do with the Ring. Everybody knew it possessed great power and, in the wrong hands, this power could potentially bring about the end of the world. For this reason, it was agreed that the best course of action was to destroy the Ring, and the only way to do that was by taking it to Mordor and throwing it into the fires of Mount Doom. Nine people had elected to take up the task: Frodo, Gandalf, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Boromir. Unfortunately, Annúngil was desperate to go as well.

"Father, please-" she tried again.

"You are not going," Boromir insisted.

"But I-"

"No"

"Can't I-"

"No"

"Would you just-"

"For pity's sake, how many times must I repeat myself?!"

Boromir's sharp tone shocked Annúngil into silence and she hung her head. The man sighed and rubbed his forehead, hating himself for speaking so harshly. This conversation was going to go nowhere if it became a shouting match. Taking Annúngil's hands in his own, he said gently "I'm sorry. I did not mean to snap, but surely you must know how I feel about this, and why. The journey will be a dangerous one and there is a chance we will not survive. Such a quest is no place for a young woman."

"What about the hobbits?" Annúngil countered. "They suffered worse than I did on the journey to Rivendell, yet they have been allowed to go."

Boromir did not need reminding of this fact. He was just as surprised as everyone else when Frodo volunteered to take the Ring to Mordor. Boromir would be lying if he said he did not find it ridiculous that somebody like Frodo could bear the weapon of the Enemy; in his eyes, the hobbit was little more than a child!

"If the hobbits are willing to risk certain death, that is their business. But, as your father, I think I should have a say in your decision to join the quest, and I say 'no'. I do not want lose you again, this time for good."

"I understand that, Father," Annúngil replied, "but I also think you underestimate me. Oh, I'm well aware that adventures aren't as glamorous as the stories make out, but I'm made of sterner stuff than you think, or I wouldn't be here. Besides, when I was out in the wild with the hobbits, I promised myself that I would help them see this journey through, and I'm not about to break it."

Gazing into his daughter's determined face, Boromir realised she was serious about keeping her promise and nothing he could say was going change her mind. He sighed again. The girl was certainly her mother's daughter alright, and that was beginning to seem like a curse.

On a cool, sunny December morning, Annúngil sat at the dressing table in Arwen's chamber, staring into the mirror as the elf brushed and styled her hair. She had abandoned her dresses in favour of some more practical clothes: a dark green tunic, a brown leather breastplate, a pair of black leggings and brown boots. Her bow and quiver (loaded with a fresh supply of arrows) were propped up against the chair, and her sword was fastened to her belt. Gazing at her reflection, Annúngil could scarcely believe that the girl in the mirror was once Bridie Butterbur, the innkeeper's daughter. She felt as if she were looking into the eyes of a different person. Barliman would have a few things to say if he could see her now.

It had been two months since Elrond had called the meeting and the fate of the Ring was decided. The fellowship would have set out sooner, but there had been much preparing to do. In order to determine which would be the safest and fastest route for the fellowship to take, scouts were sent out to survey the surrounding countries. During that time, the fellowship had gathered what supplies they needed, and Annúngil and the hobbits had been trained vigorously in the basics of swordplay (Boromir had insisted that his daughter not leave Rivendell until she knew how to defend herself). Annúngil still could not believe Boromir had relented and allowed her to join the quest to Mordor, although part of her wished he hadn't, especially after the way he had described the place.

"The entrance is a formidable black gate guarded by orcs," he said. "And beyond it is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust, and the very air is a poisonous fume."

Annúngil gulped as she remembered her father's words. It sounded like something out of a nightmare.

"There, all done," Arwen said, pulling Annúngil from her thoughts.

The elf picked up a hand mirror and positioned it so that Annúngil could see her new hairstyle in the larger mirror.

"Oh, it's lovely! Thank you," Annúngil said, admiring the elf's handiwork. Arwen had opted for a simple elvish braid: nothing elaborate, but no less elegant.
Just then, one of Arwen's handmaids – a fair-haired maiden named Nelladis – knocked on the door and entered the room. She curtsied and said something to Arwen in their own language. Arwen responded and, with another curtsey, Nelladis departed.

"Your companions are preparing to leave," Arwen told Annúngil.

A lump formed in Annúngil's throat. Oh goodness, it was finally happening! Her hands and legs trembled as she rose from her seat. With Arwen's help, she pulled her bow and quiver onto her back. Then, to Arwen's surprise, and even her own, she stepped forward and enveloped the elf in a tight hug.

"What was that for?" Arwen asked as they broke apart.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Annúngil told her, tears forming in her eyes. "You've been so kind to me and my friends these last two months. And…I may never see you again."

Arwen smiled and placed a gentle hand on Annúngil's shoulder. "I shall miss you too, mellon nin. I am glad I have lived long enough to see you and know your friendship. Do not be afraid; I shall watch over you from afar and, though the journey may be one of danger, my heart tells me that it will end in victory for you and your companions."

After sharing one last embrace, Annúngil walked out into the courtyard. Boromir, Legolas, Gimli and the hobbits were already out there with Bill. She greeted her father and the hobbits, who smiled at her, then helped them pile their bags onto the pony's back.

"You took long enough," Boromir pretended to reprimand her.

Annúngil rubbed Bill's chin affectionately and smiled. "Well, if we're going to Mordor, I'll want to look nice when we get there," she joked, earning a chuckle from her father.

Gimli, who was leaning on his axe, rolled his eyes and grunted. "Oh yes, I can see it now: you use your pretty face to distract Sauron while we sneak past and throw the Ring into Mount Doom. A truly ingenious plan!"

"Now, Gimli, don't take it out on Bridie just because she's prettier than you," Pippin said with a grin, causing Annúngil to flush rose-pink.
Everyone in Rivendell – including the Fellowship – knew of the girl's true identity by now but, since the hobbits were used to calling her by her Bree name, she allowed them to still call her Bridie.

The dwarf narrowed his eyes and puffed out his chest. "I'll have you know, young hobbit, we dwarves have more important things on our minds than looking pretty."

"Evidently so," Legolas interjected, "or you would not grow those hideous beards of which you dwarves are so proud."

"I'd rather have a hideous beard than those silly pointy ears!" Gimli growled.

"Well, at least we shan't be in dull company," Boromir muttered to Annúngil and they shared a small laugh. Boromir then became serious and placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Are you absolutely sure you want to come with us? It is not too late to change your mind."

Annúngil bit her lip and contemplated her father's words. She was certainly tempted to stay in this beautiful land with Elrond and Arwen. But her mind was made up and she was determined to stand by her decision. "I want to help. I'm coming with you."

They continued preparing to leave. Aragorn and Gandalf soon joined them, and they gathered at the great stone arch that marked the entrance to Rivendell. Soon, the courtyard was filled with the elves of Elrond's household, with the lord of Rivendell standing at the front to bid the fellowship farewell. As soon as everyone was assembled, he began to speak.

"The Ringbearer is setting out on the quest to Mount Doom. On you who travel with him, no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will. Farewell. Hold to your purpose and may the blessings of elves and men and all free folk go with you."

Holding up a hand, Elrond gestured to the fellowship that they were free to go. The moment had finally arrived. With one last look at the peaceful valley, Annúngil turned and passed under the stone arch with her companions. There was no turning back now.

So the fellowship departed from the valley of Imladris, their hearts full of hope and determination, with Gandalf and Frodo leading them. And as they walked out into the wilderness, the hobbits began singing to themselves. It was an old walking song they had sung many times on their journey from Bree, light and encouraging:

The Road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow if I can!
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet,
And whither then? I cannot say.