Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the wonderful world of Middle Earth. I own Elenmírë, Annaril, and all original characters mentioned in this story.

Author's Notes: 01/17/06 - Damn, I love laying on the romantic drama, don't I? LOL.

The Imperfect On
By: JDArc

Chapter Twelve: The Ring Goes South

Seven days and nights passed far too quickly for Elenmírë, and she suddenly found herself dressed in her usual tunic, leggings and a heavy cloak lined with fur as she prepared to depart with the rest of the Fellowship and Mary Sue. It was still dark, but Lord Elrond had suggested that they leave and travel only under the cover of darkness until they were safely away from Rivendell, for they knew not what creatures and spies the Dark Lord had set about them. As they stood in the great hall by the fire, they listened anxiously to Elrond, who informed them that the journey to destroy the Ring was Frodo's and his alone, and those of the Fellowship who wished to tarry or return could do so.

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," Gimli the Dwarf muttered, voicing the opinion of every single person of the Fellowship.

Elenmírë felt her eyes tear up as she looked to her father, not knowing whether it would be the last time she would ever see him or hear his voice again. As Bilbo bid his farewell to them all, she reached for her father, who took her in his embrace, holding her close to him, and she heard his voice quaver.

"Fare thee well, my daughter," he said softly.

"Amin mela lle (I love you)," she whispered in response, but never did she allow her tears to fall, wishing to remain strong even though her heart was breaking. Her eyes studied his face, as if trying to memorize every minute detail, knowing that it would be many moons before she would ever see his reassuring face again, or if.

"I love you, too, dearest daughter," he said, his features finally showing signs of his worry and sadness, and she closed her eyes to lock the sound of his voice into her heart. They finally released each other, and she turned away, knowing that if she stayed any longer, she would revoke her vow to follow Frodo. Her heart was throbbing with an ache that she had only once before experienced when her mother had been taken away, but now the pain was once again as fresh as the morning dew. She had to leave and leave quickly; she did not know how much longer she could take it before she would rush back into the safety of the quiet halls of Rivendell. Boromir clasped her hand tightly as he lifted an object, the Horn of Gondor, to his lips, before blowing into it, sending a final goodbye to the Last Homely Home, and the strength of his hand on hers gave her some courage.

There were some who stood on the terraces, their faces engulfed in the shadow of the night, but Elenmírë could distinguish two distinct, identical figures, each with a hand raised in a sorrowful farewell. Once again, the pang in her heart resurfaced, and she struggled to choke back a cry. Tears were brimming under her lids, but she held them back, despite the sting they so readily provided.

"Goodbye, my beloved brothers," she whispered into the air as the company began to depart, and without another word, she followed the ten in front of her. With Gandalf leading and Aragorn by his side, the Fellowship made their way across the bridge and up the winding, steep paths, continuing into the night. They traveled to the Ford of Bruinen before leaving the main road, stumbling upon the narrow paths of the folded land. They would keep to the west of the Misty Mountains for forty days, and they knew the journey would be a cold one.

With each step, Elenmírë was leaving her only sanctuary behind, but the constant presence of the one who had controlled her heart and mind was one of the two main reasons she continued, the other being the far more important one of saving Middle Earth. But discreetly glancing to her side, her eyes softened as they looked upon Legolas, and she knew that she would follow him to the very fires of Mordor. Nothing was going to keep her away from him, even if she could not allow that very fact to be public knowledge.

Being the Elves that they were, Elenmírë and Legolas brought up the back of the company as the rearguard, their keen eyesight a valuable tool for defense, but because of the interlude between them the week before, they remained silent, knowing exactly what to say to the other, but not trusting themselves to speak the words that were dying to flow free from their lips. Boromir would look back at them now and then, as would Mary Sue, but neither could understand the booming silence between the two Elves. Of course, traveling beside the Hobbits in the center of the parade proved to be a comforting distraction, and it wasn't until they stopped to rest that they would question the Elves, but neither would receive a fair answer. Elenmírë was adamant on never letting Boromir know of what had come to pass between herself and Legolas, and it seemed the Prince of Mirkwood also silently agreed for he never spoke one word of it to anyone, despite the constant whining of Mary Sue.

After a fortnight, the weather suddenly changed, and the sun made its appearance as the clouds dissolved into a beautiful light blue sky. The company reached a ridge surrounded by ancient holly-trees just as they wearily paused from their long night march to admire the awakening dawn. On this ridge, they rested, each spending the break the way they saw fit. Gandalf was perched atop a boulder, a pipe in his mouth with halos of smoke hovering just above his head. After breakfast ("A mere snack!" Pippin had grumbled), the Hobbits were putting their sword-fighting skills to the test as they sparred with Boromir, and Aragorn, Elenmírë and Mary Sue watched on in quiet amusement. Legolas stood still, looking into the distance, and Gimli Son of Gloin mumbled incoherently by his side.

Elenmírë could see Legolas perfectly with her peripheral vision, taking in the graceful movements of his lithe body as he leapt upon boulders, scanning the land and sky for any possible danger. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she knew she could no longer deny to whom her heart responded. Their kiss was proof enough of that, and each and every time she thought of it, her heart soared with the freedom she had always longed for but had never grasped until the moment their lips had met in that sweet kiss. She felt her cheeks flushing, and she quickly scolded herself, forcing her eyes to focus on Boromir, and Boromir alone. They were in love, yes, but was it true love?

Her eyes glazed over with admiration as she studied the proud, fair face of the Man of Gondor, a face that was fixed in concentration as he taught swings and blocks to the small Hobbits, and it warmed her heart to see how wonderful he was to the tiniest two of her friends: Merry and Pippin. They were of short stature, and her imagination began to run wild. With Boromir towering over them, it seemed as if he were playing with children, and Elenmírë smiled quietly, a visual drifting into her head of Boromir training their children one day to be fine warriors. The image made her eyes light up with a sort of happiness, yet…she did not feel complete, and the smile that had played upon her lips slowly faded away.

"Ah!" Pippin cried out in pain, shaking Elenmírë out of her daydreams, and her eyes shot to the small Hobbit's face which was distorted with the mixed emotions of hurt and frustration.

"O, sorry!" Boromir sputtered in disbelief, dropping his sword to kneel to Pippin's side, but the young Took shot out his leg and tripped the man to the ground. Elenmírë clutched at her stomach as her laughter held her captive, and she snorted even louder as Merry joined the fray, crying out, "For the Shire!" The three wrestled on the floor, and Elenmírë composed herself long enough to gently tug her love away from the playfully angry grips of her two friends, and they scowled up at her.

"Elenmírë, no fair!" Pippin protested. "We were just getting started!"

"I do prefer to have my love in one piece, thank you," she laughed, and Boromir twirled her in his arms, before placing a kiss on her lips. A single guilty thought raced through her head, and she hated herself even more at that moment: I wish I could kiss Legolas again. However, the thought itself must have translated through her rather chaste kiss for Boromir pulled away sharply, his eyes narrowing, and he looked down at her to study her face as a look of confusion covered his. Elenmírë felt her heart nearly stop its pounding when Boromir's facial features contorted to hurt and suspicion, and she pulled him close, praying that her guilt was not displayed so blatantly on her countenance. O holy Elbereth, please let him not suspect! The hobbits stared at them dejectedly, but they had no time to wallow for Samwise's question put a chill through their veins.

"What's that?" he asked, staring off into the horizon where a dark grey cloud of…something was flying toward them…

"It is just a wisp of clouds!" Gimli declared, placing his hands on his hips in irritation. Boromir shook his head.

"It's moving fast…against the wind," Boromir argued, his eyes growing wide, and Elenmírë pulled out of his grasp, trying to deny what her eyes were telling her.

"Crebain from Dunland!" Legolas confirmed with a hiss, and Elenmírë felt a tug at her hand and found herself looking into the wide eyes of Pippin. She nodded, and together, they ducked under some foliage where Boromir and Merry were already waiting for them. Her eyes urgently scanned the ridge and breathed a sigh of relief upon spotting Legolas' white blond head lying patiently under a thorn bush, and for a minute, she was brought back to the memories of his eavesdropping antics. Their relationship had been so innocent then, but it had all changed in one forbidden, stolen moment, and she knew with all her being that it was he whom she had been waiting for, but as an arm snaked around her waist to hold her close to a steady, strong body, she was reminded of why they could never act on impulse ever again.

Boromir's heart was beating wildly against her back, and she settled closer to him, but his fear for both of their lives was apparent in the tremble of his hand as it held hers. They all lay silent, but her eyes never strayed from the spot where Legolas lay, and despite the seriousness of the situation at hand, jealousy flared when she noticed Mary Sue sneaking her way to his side, snuggling under his arm.

She had no time to dwell on her anger for it was quickly wiped out of her mind as soon as the dark birds came streaking across the air above them. Their awful screeching pained her sensitive ears, and instinctively, she curled closer to Boromir who gladly offered his warmth. His arms wrapped protectively around her, much tighter than usual. The harsh thrashing of wings joined the terrible cacophony, and Elenmírë gritted her teeth, desperately trying to cover her ears from the tortuous sounds. Merry and Pippin quivered beside her, and she wished with all her being that she could have been more comforting for them, but even she could not stop the coldness that had possessed her body. The roughness of the rocks underneath her were digging into her sides, and she tried desperately not to shift for fear of drawing attention to themselves. The birds slowly descended away, and the company crawled out of their hiding places, sweating and breathing hard.

"Spies of Saruman!" Gandalf sneered angrily. "The passage south is being watched. We must take the pass of Caradhras." Pippin's face paled as they all turned to stare up at the tall, snowy peak and shivered involuntarily.

"Worry not, Pip," Elenmírë uttered softly as they all gathered their things, but her words were unconvincing even to her own ears. He gave her a feeble smile and moved to his place in the middle of the company as they followed the old wizard to meet the great knees of the mountains. The air around them grew thin and cold, and the Elves sadly studied the others who had begun to quaver at winter's penetrating caresses.

Legolas had said not one word to Elenmírë the moment their journey had begun, and every single second was nothing short of torture. There were so many words that he needed to tell her, that he needed to say, and keeping them inside was driving himself insane. As he and Elenmírë lightly traveled over the snow while the others trekked through it, he observed her seemingly emotionless face, knowing that it was nothing more than a mask. There were instances when her real emotions broke free across her facial features, but only his quick Elven eyes could catch them. He had seen her worry when her eyes had darted across the space between them when the crebain had made their appearance, but he had dared not lift his head to reassure her at that time. He knew the black birds could detect the slightest movement, but what was more terrifying was that if he had in fact turned to look at her only to watch her cling to Boromir, the sight would have torn his poor heart into shambles, and he would have rather faced multiple battles against Orcs than to face another moment without her.

Their kiss was not a mistake, and the memory gnawed at his heart ever since it had happened. He should have kissed her a long time ago, he was certain, for he felt his destiny in the feel of her lips pressed against his, and he knew he was now paying for his conflicting emotions. But he was determined to say no more, not until the time was right. They had a mission to do, and he was not going to make the journey more increasingly tense than it already was by putting his love for her before his commitment to the Fellowship.

He gulped. Love? Had he actually thought that? He shook the unnecessary question out of his head because the answer was obvious enough. Yes. His love for her was always there, and but for his questioning mind, his heart knew it all along. He had been acting strange the past couple of months because he needed to remain focused on their mission ahead, but whenever Elenmírë was by him, his thoughts turned into mud, and he could no longer remember what task he had been occupied with mere seconds before she came near. Now that they were finally on their way to Mount Doom, he needed to push her out of his mind, but it was nearly impossible when she was always right there, so close that if he lifted his hand, he could easily stroke her face. He could feel it within his very soul that if he ever touched her again, he would never let her go, and now was not the time for such things. But will that time ever come, or was he grasping on to flimsy hopes?

Step by step, they trailed after the others, keeping close watch on the areas surrounding them. Her light breathing was like music to his ears, and he relished the sound of her soft sigh that came every so often just before she would turn to briefly glance at him. Her habit had become so routine that when the company finally stopped to rest, he turned his head to look at her just as her sigh escaped her lips.

Their eyes locked.

There was a tumultuous storm of emotions raging within her misty greys, but the rest of her face remained impassive. She bit onto her bottom lip, but he forced his body to remain still, suppressing the urge to take her right then and there and make love to her in the soft whiteness of the snow. Holy Valar, how he wanted her, to feel her comforting presence in his arms, especially now when each living moment had much more value to him. She opened her mouth and spoke, her eyes glistening with sadness.

"I am sorry."

Legolas blinked. It took several seconds for the words to finally register, and the corners of his lips pulled downward. She was sorry? But why?

"That kiss never should have happened," she continued quietly, answering his unspoken question. "Because of it, we hardly communicate. The least we can do is talk to each other in order to help the fellowship to the best of our abilities. If we do not amend our mistakes, then we will be of no use to them."

"It was no mistake," he said just as softly. "But I agree. I, too, apologize, only for causing you discomfort, but I will not be sorry for what did come to pass between us that night." She shook her head, sighing even more heavily.

"Nothing happened," she stated firmly, her grey eyes challenging his, and despite the hostility in them, his heart leapt at the fire that burned within her spirit.

"Very well," he said, and her jaw dropped slightly in shock, as if she had been waiting for him to counter with some sort of argument, but he knew he never wanted to cause her grief again. For a moment, her façade melted, and the insecurity behind her words were evident, and he did the only thing he could think of to comfort her without finding himself at the receiving end of the swings of Boromir's sword.

He smiled.

Elenmírë blinked. Legolas was not fighting her as she had expected he would, as he had in the past. He merely accepted her denial, but his easy acquiescence unnerved her even more than if he had argued and had caused a scene. It made her apprehensive about her quick words because they deceived him, and yet if he knew, it seemed he did not mind.

However, as always, there was a situation with the rest of the group that provided an easy exit away from the awkwardness she was feeling with Legolas's sudden about-face, but her heart dropped as she veered her attention to Frodo who stood beside Aragorn, and the rightful King of Gondor was poised to attack Boromir. In spite of this, Boromir seemed oblivious for there in his gloved hands was the chain that held the One Ring. 'What is he doing!' her mind screamed frantically, and she and Legolas lightly crossed to Aragorn's side. Frodo's attire was covered with snow, and it was apparent that he had tumbled, accidentally freeing the Ring from his neck in the process.

"Boromir!" she cried out, her voice sounding frail against the gust of the wind that danced through the atmosphere. Her eyes darted to Aragorn's face, and her heart pounded with nervousness to see the look of wrath upon his fair features. She held her breath. Boromir responded naught, but gazed ever steadily into the gleaming golden band.

As her own eyes darted to the Ring, time suddenly stood still. She slowly became so transfixed that Boromir's words barely reached her keen ears. The Ring was…beautiful, stunning. The faint sunlight danced upon the strips of the red, gold and bronze colors that played upon its smooth exterior, and Elenmírë felt her eyelids droop a bit and slowly lifted her hand, as if to reach out for it. Just one touch. All she wanted was one touch to feel the sleekness beneath her fingertips. She was losing herself to the call of the Ring's seduction…

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing," Boromir whispered. "Such a little thing…"

"Boromir!" Aragorn boomed, snapping both Boromir and Elenmírë out of their trances, and she glanced up guilty at Legolas. She was surprised; there upon his face as well was a look of remorse that she knew covered her own. Their eyes locked once more, but she averted her gaze away to study Boromir, only to see him hesitating.

"Boromir," Aragorn repeated steadily and his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. "Give the Ring to Frodo." Boromir stood frozen to the spot, trying to shake his head free from the hold the Ring had had on him, but Mary Sue sighed with exasperation, crossing the snow to him. Snatching the chain out of his hand, she handed it daintily back to Frodo before whipping around to glare angrily at Boromir.

"Now that wasn't that hard, was it?" She growled in frustration, folding her arms. "All you had to do was give it to the little guy! I don't see what was so grueling about-"

"Damn you, leave him alone!" Elenmírë snapped, her face flushed with rage. Her hands were clutched into fists, and she marched right into Mary Sue's face. What kind of creature was she to so nonchalantly handle a Ring of Power? "Do you not see how difficult it is to resist the call of the Ring? What sort of a demon are you? Surely, you must be one of the Dark Lord's own to possess a will strong enough to resist the pure evil of his creation."

"Elenmírë, please, it is over," Boromir said quietly, his head hanging slightly in shame. Still, her shoulders shook with fury, and her eyes screamed curses at the girl who still cowered in her presence. Elenmírë was far from done with her.

"Don't you ever dare act as if you are better than him again, do you understand me?" she sneered, her lip curled in disgust.

"Whatever," Mary Sue grumbled, still unable to meet Elenmírë's dark gaze. "It's his own fault for holding on to it for so long anyway-" The rest of her sentence was cut off as Elenmírë's hand found contact with her cheek in a quick, satisfying slap. Oh, how wonderful it felt! But, deep inside, Elenmírë knew she had reacted far too quickly, even if Mary Sue's behavior toward Boromir was unacceptable. Her frustration with her conflicting emotions for both Legolas and Boromir were kept bottled inside, and Mary Sue had easily become her scapegoat.

Mary Sue stumbled a few steps from the momentum, and her eyes were wide with shock. There was a red imprint spread widely on her left cheek, and against the whiteness of the snow, it glowed even more brightly in contrast. Guilt flooded the She-Elf, but she was not about to show it, and instead, opted for covering her guilt with anger.

"I was your instructor for two months, and you had shown signs of potential," Elenmírë spat, shaking her head. "If I need to slap some sense into that empty brain of yours throughout this entire trip, I will not hesitate." She shook her head again before turning away. Hmm. Well, the statement did make sense…

"We're a Fellowship!" Mary Sue cried out. "You're not supposed to hit me!"

"And you are not supposed to berate another for doing what is difficult to overcome," Elenmírë snapped, her eyes flashing. Hmm. Another wonderful point. She silently congratulated herself for her quick thinking. "I had taught you a lesson before, and believe me, I would not vacillate to do such a thing again. You still have much to learn."

"Elenmírë, that is not necessary," Boromir said more forcefully, and her head snapped quickly to look at him, unable to wipe away the surprised look of hurt from her face at his obvious disagreement with her behavior. "It is over. There is no need for more hostility." She crossed her arms in silent protestation, but she drew her lips to a line and gave a stiff nod before turning away.

The rest of the company was struck silent at the quickly escalating tension within the group, but no more was said that day about the incident, although Mary Sue's soft whining could be heard, and many pitied Legolas for the unfortunate position in being her main confidante. However, Gimli came to Legolas' rescue whenever her complaints became too much to handle, and he was a comic relief to the Elf whenever the young girl fell asleep from exhaustion, and it was the friendly banter between the two that helped keep the Prince of Mirkwood sane.

The Fellowship continued on their journey up across the mountain, and it was becoming difficult for them to breathe as the air was growing thinner. Snow was starting to fall heavily around them as the sharp wind bit at their faces, much to the annoyance of everyone other than the Elves, and the path that barely clung to the side of the mountain was shrinking away to a tiny strip. One false step could lead to a sharp drop into oblivion.

Suddenly, large frozen chunks of snow and rock began to fall upon them, and they pressed against the mountain's side for protection, all except for Legolas and Elenmírë, who had both easily run upon the snow to the edge of the cliff for they had heard a strange sound drifting into their sensitive ears.

"There is a fell voice on the air!" Legolas cried out to the rest of the company, and Elenmírë nodded, her heart pounding crazily at the evil electricity she could feel in the atmosphere.

"Yes, it sounds like chanting-" she began.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf yelled in conclusion.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn exclaimed in disbelief. "Gandalf, we must turn back!"

"No!" the Wizard screamed in defiance, lifting his staff and muttering words to appease Caradhras. Elenmírë looked desperately to Legolas in confusion, not knowing what to do. A streak of lightening flashed in the sky, its fiery end blasting the rocks just above them, and Elenmírë found herself losing her balance as the large boulders fell upon the company, followed by an avalanche of pressed snow that fell so quickly that she had no time to react or regain her footing. An unnatural scream escaped her lips as she was tumbling forward, but a pair of strong arms grabbed a hold of her. Legolas pulled her to him just in time as the snow completely buried them all.

Her eyes opened at the silence that had so rapidly covered her and found herself wrapped in Legolas's arms, and thick layers of snow walled them off from the others. She lifted her head up, and her gaze caught his. She had been so close to dropping over the edge, so close to meeting her death…

"You're not hurt?" he asked, his brow creased with worry as his fingertips softly stroked her cheek. She shook her head, unable to find her voice to answer him, and she mimicked his movements instead. The cold skin of his face was soft and smooth beneath her fingers, and despite the snow that had enveloped them, she was filled with warmth. He closed his eyes as if to relish her gentle caress, and she choked back a cry, wanting to stay in his arms but hating the situation that had brought them there. Fate had a twisted sense of humor, and it seemed it loved to play its cruelest jokes on her.

"No, Legolas, I'm not hurt," she said, finally finding her voice, and her lips trembled. "I was close to falling, b-but if you hadn't caught me…" There was pain written plainly across her face.

"Elenmírë," Legolas muttered, his voice strangled. He had been so close to losing her, so close to losing his heart, and his eyes conveyed an emotion he knew he had to profess before it was too late. "Elenmírë, amin mela lle. I love you." He pulled her closer to him and gently spoke into her ear. "The road is growing far more dangerous, and I would not dare take another step without telling you how I feel. Situations have delayed my confession for far too long, but before anything else can happen, you must know of my feelings for you whether you like it or not. I love you, I love you, oh Holy Valar, how I love you."

Her eyes had grown wide, her jaw dropped slightly, and all she could do was stare at the Elf who had captured her heart the moment she had first seen him. He was saying the words that she had craved to hear from him for the longest time, but now that they were spoken, she felt boundless joy and despair at the same moment. Tears glistened in her eyes as she shook her head, but he paid no heed to her protest for his lips devoured hers.

It was not the same as the tentative first kiss that they had shared nearly a month or so before. Fiery passion took a hold of both of them, and he was drinking her in, uniting their souls as he tasted her. He lightly nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth before claiming her tongue with his, and her moans, O Elbereth help him, her moans were driving him to the point of no return. Her fingers were lightly caressing his ears, sending a shiver through every single nerve of his body, and as he stroked the softness of her neck with his butterfly kisses, he could tell he had the same effect on her.

"You are mine, Elenmírë," he growled as they broke away from each other, and his eyes darkened with determination. "I will not lose you again."

"B-but, what about Boromir-" she objected helplessly, just as part of the snowy surface gave away, allowing a ray of dim light into their momentary sanctuary. A face peered down at them, and a hand soon followed to help pull them out.

"Elenmírë!" the face, Boromir, exclaimed, grabbing a hold of her as she wiggled out, and Legolas effortlessly followed after her. Boromir had his arms wrapped around her by the time Legolas had pulled himself out, and the Elf scowled angrily in their direction, which Boromir did not bother to notice.

"I am fine," she tried reassuring him, but he did not ease his hold on her.

"I had thought that you had gone over the edge!" he choked. "My heart was overcome with grief to think that the last words that I had spoken to you had hurt you and-"

"Boromir, I am fine!" she repeated fervently. "What is more important is that we get off this mountain immediately." She bit her bottom lip and lowered her voice only so that he could hear her. "And, as soon as we do, we must converse." Her eyes flicked to Legolas, her heart pounding. She knew what she had to do.

"Yes, of course," he readily agreed, smiling, but she was sure he did not understand her intended point. "There is much to say, so much more to say." He looked to the others as did she, and spoke urgently. "We must get off this mountain, make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isenguard!" Aragorn argued.

"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it!" Gimli cried out, his eyes lighting up with excitement at the possibility. "Let us go through the Mines of Moria!" Both Elenmírë and Legolas visibly shook. Mines were dark, and more importantly, away from even the faintest hint of starlight. Elenmírë did not know exactly what it was to be without light, and the very thought of it scared her senseless. She looked to Gandalf, silently pleading with him to look for another alternative; anything was better than the shadows of a mine!

"Let the Ringbearer decide," Gandalf finally declared, and all eyes were turned to Frodo; he lay huddled next to Aragorn. He stared about him, shocked at first, then sighing in resignation.

"We will go through the mines," he stated clearly, and Gandalf closed his eyes before gazing out to the rest of the company and nodding.

"So be it."

TBC...