When we reached the Argonath, the whole of our company could not but stare at the marvels of men, those long gone before kin of Aragorn. Once on the shore, Merry and Boromir went to fetch firewood, while Sam, Gimli, and Frodo prepared camp.

"We cross the lake at nightfall. Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north." Aragorn unceremoniously dumped a pile of gear by our campsite. Gimli, who had been sitting smoking, looked up at his words.

"Oh, yes?! It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better! Festering, stinking marshlands, far as the eye can see!" Aragorn frowned at Gimli, but I could see the dwarf had a point.

"That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf." Gimli was highly affronted.

"Recover my...?!" I looked into the woods, then walked over to Aragorn.

"We should leave now."

"No. Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for cover of darkness." I smiled sadly.

"My heart knew you would say that...it is not written in the story that is to be told that we should leave. But it is not the eastern shore that worries me. A shadow and a threat have been growing in my mind. The golden path draws near...I can feel it. I have seen this shore before in my dreams, and dark dreams they were." Aragorn looked at me. I had told him of these dreams I had, and they had greatly troubled him.

"The golden path, you say? How is that path gold?"

"I have not the heart to say...but when it comes, you will know why." Gimli was still brooding as I made my way over to the camp.

"No dwarf need recover strength! Pay no heed to that, young Hobbit." Merry looked around, depositing his wood along side the stony circle where our fire would be.

"Where's Frodo?" Sam jumped upon hearing that his master was gone, and Aragorn's head, as well as mine, turned as one to the neat pile of belongings by the stony ruins, the prominent circular shield hiding the pile. I exchanged a look with Aragorn, who laid a hand on his sword, and we set off in opposite directions to find the young hobbit.

There was a strange feeling in my heart when I heard that horn call, resounding over the hills of the Nen Hithoel. I looked at Aragorn, hacking orcs with the cry 'Elendil' on his lips, and for a moment our eyes touched. He nodded, and I began to run, praying silently to every god who could be listening for strength, and courage. The path, I reassured myself, was a golden path, for me, and for those whom I die. Every heart beat seemed an eternity, and I ran as no living being on this earth has ever hoped to run before.

As the ridge drew neared, and I crested the top, I could see the Uruk fit an arrow to his immense bow, notching it with expert hands, and letting the huge bolt fly. It hit Boromir's shoulder with such force the strong man buckled- but the wound was not one that could not be healed.

As my feet passed in front of him, I felt a slice of hell itself hit me, nearly causing me to fall, but I stood my ground as the Gondorian backed into me, and there we fought, him stabbing, and I acting as the shield he had left in camp, taking three more bolts. I must not fail, I must not- for then all would be in vain- I told my self. As they hit, and set into my skin, I could feel the poison tips- these were met to kill in seconds- but I was stronger than they. I fired another arrow, the force of my bow causing the orc to be thrown backwards and skewered to a tree, a gruesome statue of sorts.

Boromir's horn sounded once more, and then I crumpled, unable to take much more, a dagger in hand. Merry and Pippin came running over the ridge, swords in hands and a yell to wake the dead, and I watched them defend me, each one mad with fury that I should die. But, the hordes of the White Hand overwhelmed them, and they were borne off, the Uruks leaving us two to die. Boromir had fallen to his knees, the poison overwhelming ever him. The leader with the crossbow stared him down, fitting the last bolt to his bow, not two feet away.

But then, a yell so horror-instilling, I had to open my glazing eyes to see who it was. Aragorn, furious as ever in the battle heat, came running over the ridge, brandishing his sword, dripping with blood-and sweat. As the Uruk turned, and the two began to fight, I looked at Boromir, whose eyes where beginning to close. I laid a hand on his chest, channeling what little untainted life there was left in me to him, the healing flowing from my bloodstained fingers.

With a roar, and a rumble that shook the earth, the Uruk fell, dead. Aragorn rushed over, going to pull one of my arrows out, but I stayed him.

"Leave it. The golden path, my friend." I reassured him, smiling. "See to Boromir. He is the one that needs your help now. I have done all that is within my power to do. He has a week to live, maybe...with his strength, I do not know...but Edoras is not that far off." Aragorn looked at me, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Why did you do this?"

"Because...he is needed more than I. His council is helpful to many, and many look to his return. Here." I gave him the necklace from Haldir with shaking hands.

"Give this to him when he wakes. To remember me. And ...keep my bow. There are other hands that can make use of it. So that Gondor and her sons may remember me." Aragorn kissed my cheek. The last words I heard were

"Gondor's sons shall remember you, daughter of the trees. And the honor of the golden path-the path of friendship." At last, at long last, he understood.

-*-*-*-

Normally, this is where I put my authors notes, but since no one has been reviewing, I am, alas, hard put to respond to anything. I am at a bit of a dilemma, however. I have the rest of the story minus the elf, but do not know whether I should post it as more chapters for this story or as an entirely new fic.