The lady summoned for us before we were due to leave, saying that she had gifts that might prove of some worth to us.

" Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people. May these cloaks shield you from unfriendly eyes." Celeborn was as solemn as ever in the dim morning light, a faint mist rising from the lips of all present in the chill air. Haldir touched my heart with a gentle hand as he fastened my cloak on, pinning the Lórien brooch together, and pressing a sachet into my hand as he stepped away, a smile lingering in his eyes and an unspoken kiss on his lips.

"My gift to you, Gabrielin, is a bow of the Galadhrim, worthy of the skill of our woodland kin." She handed me with open hands a silky wooden longbow such as the Marchwarden carried, a goodly six feet in length in complement to the six and a half nature had blessed me with, delicately inlaid with vines in gold, and pressed into the finely bent wood was a G rune for my name. Strung on it was a single golden hair, presumably taken from the Lady's head herself. Merry and Pippin both received hunting daggers made in Alqualonde before the war of the silmarils, tried in many battles and trusted by many hands.

"Do not fear, young Peregrin Took. You will find your courage." Sometimes, I reminded my self as I tested the bow, the wood flexing evenly with my practiced hand, courage is the voice in the morning saying, I will do better today.

Sam was gifted a box of dirt from the Lady's garden, that plot of blessed plots, and a shank of hithlain rope woven by the Lady's maids, the cord that could not be found nor made anywhere else on earth. Boromir was bequeathed a golden belt of finely crafted leaves, wrought for some prince of olden Eldar days; Aragorn, a hunting knife from Celeborn and the Elessar, Elfstone of the Elves shaped by Celebrimbor himself, from Galadriel.

Celeborn pulled Aragorn and me aside before we left, his tones hushed and warning.

" Every league you travel south, the danger will increase. Mordor Orcs now hold the eastern shore of the Anduin." We continued to walk. "Nor will you find safety on the western bank. Strange creatures bearing the mark of the White Hand have been seen on our borders." His voice was urgent, almost fearful. Saruman had deserted our cause, and that was cause for fear enough.

"Seldom do Orcs journey in the open, under the sun, yet these have done so!" He signed, releasing the fear. "Le aphadar aen." We were being followed.by Gollum, no doubt. Even in these sainted woods, the call of evil from Mordor was strong. "By river you have the chance of outrunning the enemy to the Falls of Rauros."

Silently flows the River to the Sea, and our boats too flowed silently. Each stroke of my paddle found some hidden rhythm deep within the water, the heartbeat of the river making each stroke smooth.

"I have taken my worst wound at this parting, having looked my last upon that which is fairest. Henceforth I will call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me." I smiled at the love-lorn dwarf.

" What was her gift, Gimli?" He sighed.

"I asked for one hair from her golden head. She gave me three." I remembered of one other man who had desired the hair of the Lady of the wood, and she had been uncouth to give it at the time. So Gimli, dwarf out of Eriabor, had succeeded where Feanor, maker of the silmarils and the master craftsman, had not.

"And what will you do with your gift, Gimli?"

"Immortalize them in crystal, to be an heirloom of my house and a symbol of the friendship between the mountain and the wood." I could only smile at his goodwill.

Two days down the river, I heard Aragorn talking to Boromir, his back to the campfire, looking across the river. The rest of the company had gone to sleep, and I was sitting watching the faintly glowing embers, remembering the lady's face, fingering the medallion of fine knot-work that had been Haldir's gift to me, the small sapphires rough to my fingers.

"Take some rest. Gabrielin and I have the watch."

"I will find no rest. I heard her voice inside my head. Even now it still haunts me. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me, "Even now, there is hope left." But I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope." He paused, savoring the night air.

" My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing. And now our. our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I- I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored." A small sign escaped his lips, and his voice became reverent, remembering the alabaster walls of home.

"Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver. Its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"

" I have seen the White City, long ago."

"One day, our paths will lead us there. And the tower guard shall take up the call: "The Lords of Gondor have returned!" So zealous for his city, for his passion-these two were brothers fate had not gifted. I heard a small splash, a deathlike gurgle, the merest whisper of the creature they called-

"Gollum. He has tracked us since Moria. I had hoped we would lose him on the river. But he's too clever a waterman." My brother had studied the creature some. Apparently, he had been a Stoor from the Shire before the ring possessed him, the most water adept of all hobbits.

"And if he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts it will make the crossing even more dangerous. Minas Tirith is the safer road. You know it. From there we can regroup.strike out for Mordor from a place of strength." Boromir was highly confident of the strength of men. I doubted it, Elrond doubted it, and brought up in a household of elves, the epitome of wisdom, I knew Aragorn doubted his own people too.

"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us." He should have said, there is no strength in Gondor that I trust. I could feel the enmity radiating from the Dunadan.

"You were quick enough to trust the Elves. Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honor to be found in Men. But you will not see that. You are afraid! All your life, you have hidden in the shadows! Scared of who you are, of what you are." Aragorn, a coward? He feared not responsibility, but the curse of his blood, the frailty of men for power, a frailty that clearly possessed the line of Ecthelion. Aragorn made up his mind, his voice cold and tried.

"I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city." Both men sat down rather heavily by the fire, Boromir scowling, breaking a piece of wood over his knee, and flinging the pieces in the air, turning for his bed roll. Aragorn frowned at his retreating frame, fingering the hilts of his sword.

"Peace, brother. He means no harm, only what he thinks will save his city, and those he loves." Aragorn looked deploringly at me.

"This would be the man I call brother?" I nodded sagely, looking back at the fire and fingering the necklace. This road could be a long and lonely one, golden though it may be.

What ho- a parting of the ways for our intrepid heroine? A friendship fire that will not hold spark? Resolutions next up-please read and review. I apologize for no pleas for reviews in those last chapters-I posted en masse- three this time! The little button in the corner-click it, please! I like opening my mailbox to find reviews! They're fun! And tell me if any one liked my DUNE allusion, if you know what it is, tell me!