A/N: Welcome! Yes, this is one of those infamous tenth walker stories. No, I don't care how overdone they may be. There's just something about them that's so…comforting? Idk. But i do know that what isnt a comfort is the fact that there are only a handful of FINISHED good ones out there. And so, it was from that need that this fic was born. So im writing this for myself (I started it way back in March!), but I want to share it for those of you who are just as frustrated as me. AND NOW: cellphones on silent and shut your fucking mouth, the show is about to begin.

Tolkien purists, you already know the drill. You might as well show yourselves out now.

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don't be afraid

to leave it all behind…

there is new light and new life,

there are new worlds waiting

– butterflies rising

･ﾟ: *･ﾟ* :･ﾟ:･ﾟ

Chapter 1: if I smile with my teeth

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In a rare instance, Legolas Greenleaf finds himself slightly hesitating. He has orders from the Lady of the Wood to summon the Ring-bearer, but upon finding the hobbit fast asleep next to his kin, he suddenly feels guilty for what he's about to do. Poor Frodo has been sleeping less and less as their journey progresses, and his rest–both mentally and physically–has all but diminished entirely these days following Mithrandir's fall in Moria.

Feeling the weight of all that has passed, he himself is weary, and hobbits require more rest than elves as it is. Only after a couple of days here in the magically protected, peaceful Golden Wood has the hobbit finally managed to find rest, as it appears, and Legolas hates to disturb him.

But he has orders, and he would never think of disobeying Galadriel.

Putting his emotions aside, the archer bends down to gently shake Frodo's shoulder. "Awake, my friend."

With a soft groan, Frodo opens his eyes and blinks blearily. His hand reaches for the golden burden around his neck, this time more out of habit than out of anxiety as he has somewhat settled down under the security of Lothlórien. "What is it?" he asks.

Legolas straightens up. "The Lady of the Wood has requested your presence, along with mine and that of Aragorn and Gimli."

Sleepily, Frodo sits up and nods, still confused but compliant. After all, who is he to question Galadriel?

As he gets up to follow Legolas, Samwise Gamgee stirs as well and follows his movements.

Legolas opens his mouth to protest, but thinks better of it and simply turns on his heel to lead them to the Lady. She had not mentioned Sam's name, but he knows the gardener isn't about to leave Frodo's side. His presence is a given at this point; they're a package deal, attached at the hip. And Legolas already feels bad enough about waking Frodo as it is, he isn't about to make him leave the comfort of his friend.

"Where exactly are we going, Mr. Frodo?" Legolas can hear Sam ask behind him.

"I'm not sure," comes Frodo's groggy reply. "I guess we'll find out."

The elf leads them down a path to a spot that is surely unfamiliar to the hobbits–for the time being, that is. The Mirror of Galadriel is something anyone can be summoned to at any given time, but most especially in times as grave as this. Legolas has a sneaking suspicion the Lady will want to call Frodo here at least.

When the trio arrives, Aragorn is already standing beside the great elleth, along with Gimli. He exchanges a look of curiosity with Legolas, whose eyes tell him he's unsure of what's happening as well.

"Welcome Frodo, Sam," Galadriel greets warmly. "I apologize for interrupting your sleep, but this could not wait. Certain things are lining up just so and the time has come to set them into motion."

Frodo's brow furrows in question, but he simply waits for her to explain further.

She walks over to the wall of rock and picks up the silver pitcher. Turning to them, she levels her gaze. "The Valar have revealed to me that a new companion is to join you on your journey now that Mithrandir is no longer with us. Here tonight I will introduce you to this companion." She carefully sets her gaze on Frodo as she clarifies. "Please understand that in doing so the intention is not to replace our late friend, as no one could ever, but that this person will be their own as they step forward to make up the tenth member of the fellowship."

"Are they a wizard?" he asks.

"No, as I have said, they are unique in themselves and not meant to be a poor substitute for Mithrandir. As for their own strengths and contributions to the fellowship, that is yet to be revealed. However," her eyes seem to linger on Legolas for a millisecond longer than the others, "I will say that their presence will be of more significance to some of your lives than others."

"Are they an elf then? Here in Lothlórien tonight?" Legolas asks curiously. What else could they be if they are here now?

"It has been revealed to me that this companion is to come from a place outside of our time."

There's a pause.

"Outside of our time?" Frodo finally questions incredulously. "As in, they are from a different time period?"

"You are correct, Frodo Baggins. It would be presumptuous to think the great expanse of the universe is limited by the concept of time, would it not? There are many people and places beyond everything we know, but we are still connected to them. And this person happens to be from the future."

Silence follows as the men all take in her words. The future. That's...well, it's a lot. But at this point, they've seen enough to know nothing is out of the realm of impossibility.

"If this person joining us is coming from the future, how will they get here, to our time?" Aragorn questions, not out of doubt but curiosity.

She gracefully nods toward the center of the clearing and their eyes follow to look at her Mirror. "Through there. Is it not fitting that it was through flame that your previous member perished, and now here it is through water that your new member will arise?"

"The mirror? Forgive me my lady, but I have only heard of it being used to see the past, present, and future."

"It can do a great many things you have not heard of," she says almost stiffly. "But more importantly, the arrival of this person goes beyond me. As I said, higher powers revealed it to me. I have only foreseen their arrival."

"Well let's meet him already," Gimli says impatiently. "If he's been sent from those above then he must be a great help to us."

"It would be wise not to run away with your expectations, Master Dwarf, for such things only bring disappointment. She will be useful in her own way."

"She? " He chokes.

Galadriel raises an eyebrow in challenge, but a small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips as she nods in confirmation.

"Uh, I mean, I'm sure she's a lovely lass."

"That she is—in her own way."

"You trust this person?" Frodo inquires, ever the pragmatic.

"I do. But more than that, I trust the Valar, for they know best. Additionally, I have looked into my mirror and seen her heart; it is pure. Hurting, but pure and kind." She gives them all a sad smile. "Now, it is almost time. I must first have it be understood that her coming from another realm will take much adjustment, but I know she's very much capable. Nevertheless, she will need training and patience. Is that understood?"

There's a chorus of ready agreement.

She smiles knowingly. "Very well. It is time to meet your new companion." Walking over to the stone pillar in the center of the clearing, she carefully, intentionally pours water from the pitcher into the basin. Nenya, the Ring of Water, sparkles in the moonlight from its place on her finger as she begins to softly chant in elvish.

Her words are in Quenya, a dialect Legolas is not fluent in, but he manages to pick out the word "rebirth."

The elleth finishes her chant and watches the water intently, the ghost of a smile upon her lips.

Holding their breath, the others all watch the process in anticipation and awe, unsure of what is about to take place. Their demeanors change in an instant, bodies starting and eyes bulging in shock as a pair of hands suddenly emerge from the water in splashy haste, desperately gripping onto the edge of the basin.

.。.*・ .。.*・ .。.*・ .。.*・

She's drowning.

Drowning as if she'd just plunged into a bottomless pool, taken by surprise, and slipping further beneath the water's surface with every passing millisecond.

The distance between her and much-needed fresh air is unknown, and that only makes the panic increase as she scrambles to reach the surface.

She knows she's alone; knows she has to fight to survive because no one else may happen by to help her. If she slows down for even a fraction of a second she just may lose the fight to survive.

Water is suddenly all she knows. What was it like to not be completely submerged in the substance? She can't remember.

The only thing she's aware of is that she needs to reach the surface now.

Adrienne Woods' eyes fly open as she jolts awake, clawing at her sheets and gasping for air. A layer of cold sweat lightly coats her skin, beading across her forehead. Noticing her blanket remains tangled around her legs, she realizes she must have been flailing her limbs about in real life.

She pulls herself into a sitting position and swings her legs over the edge of the bed to place her feet on the floor. Holding her head in her hands, she tries to convince herself she's okay and ease her breathing back to normal.

This is, unfortunately, not an isolated occurrence. No, the same intensely realistic nightmare has been plaguing her for weeks now.

It's the same thing every time: she's not sure how or why–the dream never shows her the before –but she finds herself suddenly submerged in deep waters, caught off guard. She never reaches the surface, but she doesn't give up the fight—she can't. The panic and sheer will to survive push her to keep going.

And she wakes up the same: trembling with fear. It's just that it's so damn realistic. She's never experienced something like it before. Maybe that's what scares her most of all.

With a sigh, she drags her hands down her face as she lifts her head to peer over at the LED clock in the darkness. 6:37 A.M.

Well, fuck.

She's not about to fall back asleep anytime soon. But it's fine. It's not like she usually gets much sleep as it is.

Bringing herself to a standing position, she reaches for her running clothes. She might as well get a head start on the day.

.。.*・ .。.*・ .。.*・ .。.*・

Senior year, last day of finals. It's what every student dreads for four years because it means the beginning of Real Life and getting an Adult Job, and marks the end of partying and being surrounded by friends. That is, they dread it until the very last semester when they just want to be done already. God, do they just want to be done . That's when students go from dreading the end to dreaming of it, even welcoming it as one would with death after a long, drawn-out battle of fighting a terrible illness.

After all, it also means the end of exams and essays and research projects. The end of dissertations and theses and capstone projects. Yes, the End suddenly sounds absolutely heavenly.

The energy on campus reflects this perspective as well; a weight has been lifted from the shoulders of thousands of students and moods have visibly been lifted. The air is crisper, and the weather is clearer.

That is, the atmosphere appears that way to everyone except Adrienne.

She wants to feel as lighthearted as the rest of her classmates do, she really does. It's just that she physically can't. She can't help it if she finds school tedious.

Life, in general, has been mundane for years now–maybe it always has been. But no, she knows that's not true; it wasn't always this way. Nevertheless, it's become a monotonous routine at this point: school, work, party hard on the weekends, repeat. And graduation doesn't necessarily change much of that, especially since she's going to grad school anyway. Yay.

Then, of course, there are also other, more recent factors that are contributing to Adrienne's lack of enthusiasm. For weeks now she's been hearing voices in her head–or one voice, to be precise. And no, not her own. She's been hearing a voice very obviously other than her own, clear as day, in her head. A beautiful but haunting woman's voice. And as time goes on, it has only gotten more frequent. The latest one was last night.

Fate knocks on your door; will you answer?

She shudders at the memory. Despite how many times it has happened by now, it still startles her every time. In fact, she was so startled the first time she heard it that she dropped the coffee mug she was holding and shrieked.

Interestingly enough, it was around the same time the voice started that the nightmares did as well. Those damn drowning nightmares.

Now, hearing a strange voice in your head and having hyper-realistic nightmares are cause for concern by themselves, but for Adrienne, the concern is tenfold. With a history of schizophrenia in her family, experiencing the onset of the cognitive disorder is a deep-rooted fear of hers. Being a psychology major herself and knowing her family medical history, she knows just how damning her current symptoms are.

But she hasn't told anyone yet, the fear of saying it aloud will make it all too real. So she'll just continue living in denial until she simply can't ignore the signs anymore. Whatever that'll look like. Having witnessed firsthand what it can drive a person to do, she doesn't want to know what it'll look like.

Physically shaking her head to rid herself of the morbid train of thought, Adrienne turns up the volume of her AirPods to drown out any remaining darkness and hurries along on her way to her last class.

If she ignores it maybe it'll just go away.

.。.*・ .。.*・ .。.*・ .。.*・

Sighing, Adrienne plops down beside her friend Claire in their shared last class of the day.

"Ugh, I am so ready to be done," she groans, laying her head down on the table with a thud.

Her friend says, placing a hand on her arm. "Hey, just think; we just have to get through this last exam, and then that's it. We're home free!"

"Yeah, until grad school," comes the muffled response.

Claire frowns at her tone. "What stick's up your butt today, Ree? I thought you've been looking forward to this."

"Sorry," she replies with a wince. She's usually better at masking than this. "It's just been one of those days, I guess."

"It's the end of finals week, I guess I shouldn't be surprised." She pokes her friend's arm. "But wait till you hear this; guess who I saw Caleb making out with against his car earlier today."

"Who?"

"Kenzie! That stuck-up girl on the dance team. And they were making out, making out," she stresses. "Already. Argh, the audacity."

Adrienne gives her a sympathetic smile. Caleb used to be Claire's boyfriend; he was the man for her–until she found out he'd cheated on her. Shit went down and Claire took it pretty badly. But even after everything he'd done, she still can't get over him.

Annnnd this is why I steer clear of relationships, Adrienne thinks.

"You need to go make out with someone and get your mind off that loser," she says as their professor hands her the exam booklet, offering the same advice she always does.

"Oh, I intend to," Claire replies with a determined, sparkling smile.

.。.*・ .。.*・ .。.*・ .。.*・

Okay, she'd be lying if she said getting out of her last exam of senior year didn't feel great, grad school ahead of her and all. She allows a relieved smile to grace her soft features as she steps out of the academic building and into the sunshine. She starts to make her way through the quad when someone runs up behind her and grabs her elbow.

Black curly hair whips by as the person tries to drag her forward with urgency. Claire. She must've finished her exam.

"Come on, Ree," the girl says, "you know what time it is, right?"

"Uh, 3 o'clock?" Adrienne guesses, cocking her head to the side.

"No! Are you serious? It's fountain time!" She continues to drag her toward the center of the quad where a large fountain is.

Oh yes, of course.

Their university has a tradition for seniors: on the last day of school, they toss a coin into the fountain and make a wish of good fortune–not very original, to be frank–and then jump into the water. They say because of your "senior luck" or whatever that your wish is sure to come true.

Adrienne has secretly always thought it was kinda dumb, not to mention uncreative, but apparently, a lot of students indulge in it and even look forward to the ritual.

They finally reach the fountain, where a handful of other students have gathered as well, and Claire eagerly takes off her backpack. Adrienne follows suit, wearing a smile of her own. It's stupid, but that doesn't mean it won't be fun.

Claire takes a cute little change purse out of her bag and fishes out a silver dollar.

Adrienne eyes the large coin in amusement. "You're really going all out, huh?"

Her friend shrugs shamelessly. "I need all the luck I can get."

Adrienne smiles fondly at the absurdity as she reaches into her pocket for some loose change of her own.

Claire looks over at her. "Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. What are you gonna wish for?"

"I can't tell you that or it won't come true," her friend insists with a wink. But then she smiles cheekily. "But you probably already know."

Adrienne snorts. Yeah, she has more than a pretty good idea. A new boyfriend. That's what Claire is wishing for. And Adrienne can't blame her, what with all she went through with the last one.

"I'll go first," her friend volunteers. "We wouldn't want our wishes to get mixed up."

Adrienne holds out a hand for Claire to take as she steps up onto the surrounding ledge and watches as her friend squeezes her eyes shut in concentration and anticipation before jumping into the water. It's not deep, of course, falling just below the knees. Claire throws her head back and lets out a whoop that quickly turns into playful laughter.

"Was it everything you dreamed it would be?" Adrienne asks with a teasing smile.

"And more," Claire grins before glancing down at her feet. "Well, maybe except for the gross green slime at the bottom," she admits, referring to the algae coating the floor of the fountain. "They really should clean this thing out; it makes it slippery." Right on cue, Claire involuntarily slides forward, causing Adrienne to reach out to steady her.

"Yeah, well, typically fountains aren't meant for people to walk around in," Adrienne points out with a wry grin.

Claire rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Shut up and get in here already, Ree. It's your turn."

She steps up onto the ledge and stares into the glistening water and prepares herself for the next step when that damn voice in her head decides its the right time to make another appearance.

Your time of rebirth draws near. Do not fear, my child. You must let go in order to embrace your new path.

God damn it.

"Actually, you know what? I'm good," she politely declines, her good mood suddenly gone.

Claire cocks her head to the side, not used to Adrienne backing down from spontaneity, wondering where her normally adventurous spirit has gone. "What's the matter, can't think of a wish?"

"Uh, yeah. Exactly. I mean, there's nothing to wish for right now anyway, right? We just finished school," she lies through her teeth. The truth isn't that she can't think of what to wish for, it's that she can't think of what not to wish for. For her not to have schizophrenia? For her to feel like she's actually living again instead of just surviving? To bring the dead back to life? For her fucking dad to–

"You could always wish for the same thing I did," Claire suggests.

And just like that, Adrienne realizes Claire just doesn't get it. Adrienne has considered her to be her close friend since they met at freshman orientation and she doesn't get it–doesn't get her.

A cold, empty feeling of utter loneliness that has become all too familiar since her senior year of high school washes over Adrienne, and she suddenly doesn't want to do this or be here anymore. She just wants to go back to her room and blast music to drown out any thought from getting through, or maybe go to the gym and sweat out her worries.

Besides, this whole thing was all so stupid anyway. A wishing well? Really? She'd given up on the idea that wishing for real, lasting happiness was something attainable a long time ago.

"No. I'm–I'm good, Claire. I just remembered I left my laundry in the machine, anyway. I should go get it before someone dumps it on the floor."

Her friend pouts but buys the excuse. "Aw, okay, fine. You can do it in your cap and gown on graduation day! That's a week from now you know."

Adrienne has to physically restrain herself from flinching at those words. The week before her last graduation, which had been high school, was...

"Anyway, I'll see you later," Claire continues, interrupting Adrienne's thoughts. "At the party. I know you can't wait to get fucked up."

She easily plasters on a smile. It's second nature to her at this point. "Ha, yeah. I'll see you there."

"Great! It'll be a blast."

She gives a weak smile. "Looking forward to it," she says, which isn't a lie despite the fact that in the present moment she just wants to go back to her room. She's looking forward to it in the same way she looks forward to every party; it's a distraction. The loud music, alcohol, and people-crowded rooms provide ample options for focusing her thoughts on anything but how miserable she really feels. Normally she'd also smoke some weed, but with her current cognitive concerns, she's not about to test her luck with a hallucinogen. She can make out with someone or even get blackout drunk if she wants, as long as she can numb her mind from reality.

Just something, anything, to distract her from the lackluster hell that is her own reality.

.。.*・ .。.*・ .。.*・ .。.*・

The chaotic sound of drunk college students trying to talk to each other over loud music fills Adrienne's ears as she sits on an uncomfortably lumpy couch. She shifts on the offensive cushion, stereotypical red solo cup in hand. The room's noise buzzes around her while she becomes increasingly aware that she is not nearly buzzed enough.

Claire disappeared twenty minutes ago to go make out with a guy. Good for her.

That's what she should be doing right now too. She's at a frat party surrounded by hot people, sitting here looking hot herself in one of her favorite outfits; a large army green jean jacket over a tight black crop top, with high-waisted wide-legged jeans and white sneakers. With her dark auburn hair pulled into a high ponytail and her usual eye makeup, her look is complete.

But her thoughts keep drifting back to far too depressive topics for this atmosphere. Her mom, her dad, the fear that she's literally losing her sanity, the idea that her future will be as empty and unfulfilling as the last season of That 70's Show…and the fact that it all combines into the thing she's been lying about to herself and everyone around her for years: she's unhappy and life feels meaningless.

Yes, try as she might to hide it from others with the mask she puts on every day, try as she might to distract herself from it by constantly keeping herself busy, the truth remains all the same. It lays heavily on her chest, growing heavier each day she refuses to acknowledge it, to the point that she fears soon it will physically restrict her breathing. It's sitting right there, so dense it's almost tangible, just begging for her to look it in the eyes and come to terms with it, to stop dancing around the subject and pretending everything's fine.

No! No. She refuses to do this here and now. Besides, she's far too sober right now. What she needs is to get drunk–and fast. Time to act.

Adrienne jumps off the couch and grabs a nearly full bottle of tequila from a random dude passed out in a chair. She leaps up onto the coffee table and shouts over the music. "Hey, bitches, who wants to watch me down this thing in under thirty seconds?"

A couple of friends of hers immediately hoot in encouragement.

"Bet I can finish mine first," a jock-looking guy challenges, holding up a similar-sized bottle of alcohol.

There are a few oooo's and raised eyebrows at the challenge.

If she didn't have the room's attention before, she sure does now.

She smirks. "You're on!"

The guy jumps up next to her on the table, nodding in approval. "Okay, now we've got ourselves a contest. Good luck, sweetheart."

Adrienne's smirk doesn't falter. "I don't need luck, sweetheart, " she states, turning to wink at a pretty blonde girl watching them intently.

"If you say so."

"Come on, Woods!" someone yells with enthusiasm. "You can take this guy!"

She throws her head back and laughs. "Oh, I know I can. You don't have to tell me."

"On the count of three, then. One..two…three! Go!"

A chorus of cheers goes up as the two begin chugging the alcohol.

The liquid burns as it makes its way down Adrienne's throat, but she doesn't slow down, determined not to let this frat dude win.

Fueled by the crowd's loud noise, she finishes the bottle after several adrenaline-filled seconds. Exuberated to see she's the first to finish, Adrienne victoriously holds up the empty bottle as the crowd goes wild. The enthusiastic response only causes her grin to grow.

With the adrenaline still pumping in her veins, alcohol hitting her system, and the cheers of her name filling her ears, Adrienne almost forgets just how unhappy she is.