Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or locations sigh. Mel is mine though.

A note of thanks to my lovely reviewers:

Dy: I hope it the following chapter measures up to 'worse' lol.

Danceingfae: I'm trying to make this as angsty as I can without turning it into a Mary-Sue lol. I do tend to tame down my ideas since this is a PG13 after all.

Maverick Girl: Aragorn sick and injured is also something that I loved, his trial is not over yet, although he is past the danger caused by Gollum's bite.

~ Chapter 11 – Dark Mirrors ~

Gandalf was puttering about when I opened my eyes. Before I even had a chance to say good morning, he shoved a cup of steaming liquid under my nose. I recognized the smell instantly and probably made a face because he barked at me in the most authoritative tone.

'Don't say it, just drink.'

'It's too hot' I protested clutching the proffered cup clumsily, knowing only too well there was no way to escape the wizard's vile tasting tea.

Gandalf shot me a menacing glare and I obediently gulped the liquid.

Although I had slept soundly and felt considerably more rested, a soft whir was already beginning in my head and its persistent droning both irritated and confused me.

'Tastes terrible' I mumbled mostly to myself when I noticed that Aragorn's bedroll was empty.

'Where's Aragorn?' I was mildly alarmed but delighted that he had the energy to rise.

'Down by the stream.' The wizard answered and his eye held a contented spark. 'He is past the worst. His fever broke and the festering stopped.'

It was the best news we'd had in days. I smiled at the sight of Aragorn walking slowly but steadily up the soft slope that led from the riverbank. He still looked pale and haggard but his stride was more purposeful and when he neared I saw radiance in his eye that had been all but extinguished the night before.

'Pack your things,' Gandalf urged. 'We have to leave at once.' His eyes darkened as he studied the sky broodingly.

'How far behind us do you think they are?' I asked. The good news of Aragorn's improvement had been too brief a respite from the reality that was once again crashing down on us. Faceless, merciless enemies were hunting us.

'I cannot say.' Gandalf said shaking his head. 'Not even Aragorn can tell.'

'It is true' Aragorn confirmed ' Signs that we saw a few days ago are not present anymore.'

'And that disturbs you?' I asked.

'Greatly' Aragorn replied. 'It is as if they slowed their pace with clear purpose…Or else changed their course.'

I made a dash for the stream to wash and change my clothes before we left. It was the first time in days that trees did not block sunlight and the water shimmered playfully with the light filtering through the sparse trees, singing a joyous song as it flowed along. I dipped my fingers in the pure, cool water and it felt like silk brushing through my fingers. I could have lingered there indefinitely, listening to this most peaceful of sounds, had we not been in such haste to leave.

I picked up a soft rustle behind me and knew instantly who had sneaked up behind me.

'Go away and leave me alone, Gollum!'

Time and again during the past few days, I had noticed the creature was trying to tell me something, his huge eyes beseeching and repentant but each time I had invariably given him the silent treatment, feeling more resentful and disgusted than ever. Whatever pity I had felt towards him was rapidly dissolving into anger at what he had done to Aragorn. Immediately after the attack I had thought myself capable of hurting him so I kept my distance. Now I felt only revulsion and I agreed that he was long overdue some well-placed harsh words.

'Mistress…Mel….' He entreated tentatively, timidly even. 'Please…' he begged and I finally turned to see his defeated skeletal frame, shoulders hanging pathetically and his tied hands raw and bleeding again.

'If Aragorn had lost the use of his arm, I think I could have killed you myself!' I told him evenly. 'What possessed you to do something like that? What do you think you would have accomplished by killing Aragorn except your own death? Oh, Gollum, you bring out the worst in us, every time, without fail!'

 'Smeagol did not mean to kill the Ranger…it was an accident..'

'Accident, my foot!' I snapped. 'The only accident was your hard luck when you missed his throat by a few inches. Next thing you're going to tell me that the Ring made you do it!'

I regretted my outburst instantly when I saw Gollum' s face twisting into wicked grin and his pupils narrowed, all remorse forgotten.

'The Precious makes you do things, yes, it can…Now that Mel has it, maybe she can tell us what the Precious tells her to do…'

'I'm not mad like you, Smeagol! No blasted piece of gold is going to tell me what to do.' I spat, and wondered if he could sense just how uncertain I was.

Confirmation came an instant later. Even as the words tumbled out of my mouth I became aware of a smoky shadow in the corner of my eye. It advanced with appalling speed and a cold, gray mist shrouded my vision, blocking the sight of everything around me. It felt cold. So cold. The only clarity I was rewarded with was a muted sussur that assailed my ears with mounting intensity.

'Smeagol…Smeagol……Mel, Mel, mine…' the softest, most mellifluous voice, demanding submission and absolute trust.

A voice so silky it seemed to brush against the back of my neck and along my arms, like the caress of an adept lover and my stomach muscles quivered involuntarily in anticipation of his ardent breath against my skin.

I shuddered at the reaction of my own body and willed my mind to stop wandering, but to no avail. The mist seemed to retreat enough for me to notice that the stream had turned into a black pool, still as a mirror. I risked a glance in it and gasped aloud at the frightful reflection. It was me yet somehow it was not. My eyes burned with a terrible light and dark, wild hair crowned my head. I wore flowing black robes that billowed in a wind I did not feel. Then to my right, I saw Gollum's face, peeking timidly.

'What are you doing here?' I demanded without even opening my lips. I knew without a doubt that my mind could reach his.

'Yes, what is he doing here? He should not be here!' that terrible, beautiful voice that seemed to know my every thought.

 'What do you want, Smeagol?' I asked in my mind again.

'Need you ask?' The voice. Scathing. Unforgiving.

'You want the Ring, don't you?' I barked yet not a sound left my lips 'Don't you?'

'He must leave! Make him go away!!' Commanding, urgent.

'Go away!' I warned Gollum yet the creature made no move to retreat, eyeing me in awe, rooted to the spot.

'Get rid of him! He should not be here!'

'Leave, Smeagol. Leave now!'

Gollum stood still, his eyes wild with fear..

Suddenly, as if by chance, I found myself fingering the knife at my belt, Legolas' white knife, his gift to me. I unsheathed it fully and turned towards Gollum.

'Go now, Gollum, or else..''

'Kill him, he wants the Ring, he will take it if you give him the chance. Rid yourself of this constant threat. Soon he will attack you like the attacked Aragorn. Only much worse…!'

Gollum cowered, whimpering a pathetic plea. I could not make out the words and I didn't even want to.

I took a step closer to him, knife readied, and saw my face, distorted by hatred, mirrored in the pools of Gollum's terrified orbs. I glanced at my arm, handling the knife so expertly, like it wasn't my arm at all, like it belonged to someone else. This Gorgon with wild hair and my features that was NOT me!!

'Kill him, make him go away forever..!!'

'No!' I protested aloud and in a flash of blue light found myself again by the stream, the dark mirror gone, the mist dissolved. I doubted more than a second had passed altogether.

I heard the stream, I heard Gandalf talking to Aragorn while they went about packing, and I looked to see Gollum still at my feet… I wondered if they had heard the voice as well, hoping against hope that they had, yet knowing in my heart that the vision had been meant for my eyes and ears alone.

'The Precious is calling, yesss it issss…' Gollum's voice had the same velvety quality that made me cringe. 'Yesss, precioussss, Mistress heard it too…'

'I heard nothing!' I denied vehemently and swiftly walked away almost doubling over from the pain of a sudden spell of thirst. The world started spinning with such velocity that I was compelled to sit there on the bare ground lest I collapsed. I swallowed water avidly and I was aware of very little else around me until Gandalf's voice and soft nudge jolted me back to reality.

'Mel, what is the matter?'

'Nothing, I'm fine' I answered, too quickly maybe. 'I was just thirsty.'

Gandalf gave me a skeptical look. 'I called your name three times before you answered.'

'I guess my mind was wandering. But I'm all right, really!' I tried to prove it with a smile but the concerned looks I got made it clear that neither Gandalf nor Aragorn were convinced I was telling the truth.

Later on the same day – Gandalf's POV

We are coming up a ravine, drawing near to the place where we are to meet Legolas and his company. Thankfully, Aragorn's improved condition has made it possible for us to travel at a much increased pace. Gollum's hateful bite was poisoned only by his acrimony towards us, hence it did not hold enough venom to harm him more than it already has. The infection has abated but he has yet some way to go until the full use of his arm is restored and he can wield a sword.

More and more, I am troubled by the lack of signs of the enemy. I search the skies for a sign of their carrion birds, I pay heed to every sound of eagles' cries lest I should hear their terrible shriek, but there is nothing to be seen or heard.

We are nearing the mountains, having made our way out of Mirkwood and its gloomy obscurity. Warm sunlight shines upon our faces again and I notice just how pale both Aragorn and Mel are, one because of lingering sickness, the other because of the hurt she endures in her world. I have no doubt now that Mel's condition in her world has taken a turn for the worse. I do not know how or why, but merely by looking at her I can tell. She is strong at first glance and carries on single-mindedly yet her eyes have become sunken and are burning with something more than weariness. Telltale dark circles that will not go away even after she sleeps and with how with little effort I can see the blood pulsing in her temple veins, through parchment-thin transparent skin. And this thirst that racks her ... It is heartrending to behold her drinking greedily the water which I thank the Valar is one thing we are not lacking. 

Something happened to her this morning and she obstinately keeps it to herself. I can do no more than keep a closer eye on her.

Rain starts to fall as we near the upper edge of the gully and although we welcome its summery warmth, the horses cannot go on like this. The sloped ground is too slippery.

We find shelter amongst the fallen, dried up branches of a huge pine tree and we sit clustered together on the single patch of dry soil at the foot of it. Gollum curls at Mel's feet without a word, oblivious to the rain that falls relentlessly on his back. He would do anything to be close to the Ring.

Aragorn talks to Mel softly. He thanks her for caring for him last night although he does not know just how delirious he was.

'It was nothing out of the ordinary' she replies, albeit a little uncomfortably, 'I am sure you would have done the same for me.'

'Yes,' Aragorn agrees 'I would have and if you allow me, I will try to help you before you cross over into your world.'

She looks up at him and there is a glimmer in her eye. Is that hope? It would warm my heart to know that it is.

'I have thought a lot about the enchanted waters in that cave.' Aragorn explains. 'Who knows, perhaps that together with my healing skills will somehow work together to bring you to life in your world.'

She swallows a knot in her throat and smiles a faded, sad smile.

'Thank you, Aragorn. I have faith in you' she is undoubtedly honest but the hopeful glimmer in her eye is gone.

He reads her face and sighs.

'You have little faith left' Aragorn says dismally.

'I don't want to talk about it,' she almost snaps, her words biting, almost harsh. I can see she is guarded and will not share whatever she is experiencing.

'Have you remembered anything about your life?' Aragorn changes the subject no doubt prompted by her flat refusal to talk about how she feels.

She shakes her head, it is too painful for her to speak about it. She averts her gaze and I see that Aragorn wants to tell her something, he opens his mouth but bites his words back. His eyes hold a muted plea as he looks to me and shakes his head.

He cannot tell her encouraging words he would say to a frightened young soldier about to face his first battle.

'There is always hope.'

He does not wish to lie to her.

~~

'I found her.'

Words so unexpected as they were unhoped for, after what seemed to be an impossible length of time.

Six weeks had passed and the feeling that Mel was permanently gone was beginning to sink in. Wherever Tamara turned, especially at the office, Mel's omnipresent ghost haunted her. But as time went by Tamara found herself slowly becoming wrapped up in the day-to-day running of the law office, taking on more responsibility out of necessity. The volume of work eventually forced Tamara to make a decision she had been trying to procrastinate: she had to bring in more associates, maybe even think about another partner.

Often enough, Tamara contemplated what Mel' choice would have been had she been in the position to make a conscious decision. Lying in a hospital ward, kept alive by respirators and other life support paraphernalia was definitely not Mel's idea of life. Tamara believed she knew what the decision would have been, yet legally, there was no one who could just decide to turn the machines off and allow Mel to truly rest in peace. Tamara chastised herself for thinking that way but in her heart she knew that sometimes it was more merciful to free a spirit rather than keep it trapped only because strangers had made a choice on her behalf.

But then, just as unexpected as Mel's premature departure, Jerry 's news seemed to bring a ray of hope where there was none.

'I found her.'

Tamara had glanced stupidly at the computer screen where different color dots moved randomly against the backdrop of a shapeless grid.

'See the four red dots? Mel is one of them.'

'What about the green dots?'

'Orcs, or other characters of a more…unsavory nature.'

'But there's so many of them' Tamara cried as she watched helplessly the one red dot straying further and further away from the other three, drawing near to where the green dots were swarming.

'How did you find her?' Tamara asked 'And how can we be sure that it's her, and that she is alright?'

'I don't know' Jerry answered all three questions at once. 'The game plays a pattern of its own now. I wrote a program that could differentiate between Mel's group and others according to their body heat. I fed it into the game just after Mel went in, but it was rejected. Then, just the other night, I got this on one of the monitors.' He pointed to the screen.

'But how can the game choose to reject something?'

'The game has got a will of its own, and I know just how weird this sounds. It was created for our entertainment, yet it has somehow developed cognitive traits and has turned on us, shutting down any form of communication in the process.'

Tamara listened in silence and her heart sank. Always her, the fool, to hope that following a dot on the screen was the answer. There were no answers. Mel was still trapped somewhere inside this abomination that had taken on a life of its own.

'Even if I pull the plug, the game has somehow tapped into another dimension and it exists there without the possibility of being interfered with by anyone else.'

'Another dimension? A parallel universe, you mean?'

'Exactly. The game exists in its own universe and it has captured Mel. The only way back is to play until Game Over.'

'How do you know that? How do we know anything?'

'We don't. But it makes sense, it's the only logic the program will follow.'

'But Mel doesn't know that.' Tamara protested.

'No she doesn't' Jerry agreed. 'She doesn't know the rules, she doesn't know her condition has deteriorated here it's very possible that we will never be able to retrieve her. We can't help her either because I tried to plug-in a few support patches but they've all been rejected. We are only shown what the game wants us to see and by the same token the game interacts with Mel in its own way. No way it will help her.'

'So how is Mel going to survive this?' Tamara realized that the blink of hope was in fact nothing more than a lie, that she could do no more than helplessly follow the red dots winding their way onto the grid.

'I wish I could tell you.' Jerry said. 'There is one way, but I doubt the game will ever allow her to get there. And that is no guarantee that will bring Mel back to a normal life.'

'What way?' Tamara's eyes opened wide. She would gladly be the fool who hoped, if that indeed helped even in an infinitesimal way.

'In order to beat the game, Mel has to destroy the Ring.'

~~

A/N: Although there is still some way to go, I have thought up a few possible endings for this. I am not fond of happy-endings of any kind in movies/books so what do you think? Any suggestions?