I'm baaaaaaaaaack! I actually planned to post this yesterday, but a family emergency popped up. My uncle had a heart attack, a second heart attack, and I was too worried about him to write. I do apologize for the delay. I also promised an explanation for my previous delay. I recently quit my job, and have spent the last month and a half recovering from mental exhaustion (to say nothing of having to deal with a job I hate, and fighting my attraction to my married supervisor. No, I didn't make a move on him. That's why I got out of there, before my hormones overrode my good sense). I've been recovering, looking for another job, and exploring other stories.

Quick author's note: Regarding Gimli's dialogue, it'll appear that some words are misspelled. This is deliberate. I was trying to 'write' his accent.

Reviews!

Rosie: Well, I'm a little later than I planned. Can you forgive me? So glad you're enjoying this, and I PROMISE, I'll get back to work on Calling the Wind as soon as I can. Juliet and Luke have provided me with starting points; it's just a matter of writing them down. Nope, the only spoiler would be if you asked who Undercover Elf is. Here's the current scorecard:

Aragorn: Michael Norman

Arwen: Wendy Stryder

Eowyn: Ava Edmunds

Eomer: Robin Edmunds

Boromir: Brody Hurley

Faramir: Flynn Hurley

Denethor: Devin Hurley

Saruman: Saul Conover

The reincarnated hobbits will be making an appearance in the second story of this trilogy, called 'Wish of the Heart.' The final story is more of a companion piece than an actual story, and it's called 'Yours to Command.'

Lil-sis: It's here! It's here! It's here! (grins)

Sydney: Thank you! I have the next chapter planned out. . .one of the reasons I took a little extra time was to give myself the opportunity to watch Fellowship of the Ring last weekend on TNT.

Sailor Elf: Yeah, I know. I like doing things differently, you should know that by now.

Terries: Of course I missed you, don't ask such silly questions! Of course. What was I thinking, even considering telling Pippin 'no.' You're right. Ava wasn't thinking. . .just reacting. I think Brody may need some comforting. Well. . .she's sort of like his baby sister, so it seemed appropriate that Brody call Allison 'baby girl.' Will Ava be okay? How do you mean, okay? The meeting of Boromir and the cousins. . .well, you know what I say every time you ask me how I do 'it.' It's just there, and the same was true of that little scene. And how could I not throw in some Aragorn/Arwen sweetness? Or Aragorn period? It'll be a while before Aragorn and Alorie meet. Let's just say, she's not ready to meet him. Poor silly girl. I had a wonderful Thanksgiving, aside from the difficulties I mentioned to you earlier.

On with the story (Luke, be patient, I'm getting to you!)

Chapter Five

Over the next several days, both Arwen and Alorie saw less of the respective men in their lives. It grew easier for the newcomer to think of herself as 'Alorie,' rather than 'Allison.' She could at least answer to 'Alorie' now, which was an improvement. She spent twenty-nine years as 'Allison,' that couldn't change overnight. And like her 'big sister,' Alorie missed the males. While she was becoming friends with Boromir and Pippin, especially when she could get Pippin to slow down, Elrond was like her father.

She barely remembered her own father, and wasn't sure if she wanted to remember him. Elrond, on the other hand, was everything she hoped a father would be. . .loving and protective, if a bit stern. She knew from the others that he lived for several thousand years, and his wife no longer lived here. . .which accounted for some of the sadness in his eyes. Fifteen years earlier, she would have thought living such a long life would be cool.

But that was before she lost her brother and her dearest friend. Life was terribly lonely if you didn't have someone. And with the terrible things Elrond saw during his life time, it was no wonder he was somewhat stern. Even so, knowing that didn't ease her frustration when she was practically ordered to stay inside on a particular day. Alorie didn't believe in being difficult, but there wasn't a need to order her about, was there?

She followed the directions, because there was no sense in depriving herself of a home so soon. She knew the day was coming when she would leave Rivendell. Why push it ahead of schedule? Allison Norman was a good girl. Everyone said so. She didn't start her rebellion until after her brother and Flynn died, and it was so subtle, most people missed it. She could have stayed in college. She could have gone ahead. She should have done that. But she didn't.

No, she was a good girl, so she didn't consider ignoring Lord Elrond's orders. Instead, when a bell was rung, Alorie retreated to her favorite room in the Last Homely House. If she couldn't be outside, then she could at least look outside. She retrieved a book of Sindarin poetry on her way here, the book that she kept trying to read. With everyone otherwise occupied, she hoped she could make a little more progress.

The room overlooked what she called a patio, though it was entirely too grand to be considered a patio. However, so much of Rivendell was so beautiful, she had a hard time describing it, even to herself, in her own journal. The window ledge was large enough to be considered a window seat, and she loved to sit there and read in the afternoons. Alorie tucked her legs under her body, and began to focus on the language she was still learning.

An hour passed, or maybe two. During her time here, she realized that her sense of time changed. Sometimes, days would pass without her thinking of Flynn, Michael, Brody, Wendy or Ava. And other days, she would awaken, missing them all so keenly, it took her breath away. She would wonder if they even noticed she was gone, in her own time. Had she drifted too far away from Brody, especially, to ever find her way back?

She wondered about Brody, especially, after spending so much time with Boromir. He was so like Brody, and so different. They both had blond hair and green eyes, but Brody's blond hair was cut short and he was clean shaven. Boromir's hair was a bit shorter than her own and he sported a neat mustache and beard. Or was that a goatee? She never found goatees particularly attractive. . . thought they made the wearers look demonic. But it looked good on Boromir. Then again, with that smile, even horns would look good.

Voices drew her attention away from her reading. . .one voice in particular. It belonged to Lord Elrond. After her months here in Rivendell, she knew his voice as well as she knew Arwen's. With a frown, Alorie looked to the door. . .she knew better than to expect to hear footsteps. Elves were light on their feet, she discovered, and they often came to her side with but a whisper of movement. She never knew they were there until they spoke to her, at which point, she would give a startled little shriek. At least, at first.

As weeks passed, and she became more accustomed to the elves, it startled her a little less. Of course, the elves also made an effort to make their presence known as well when they approached her. Elves had very sensitive hearing, and her shrieks, abbreviated as they were, made the highly sensitive ears of the Elves hurt. It was in their best interest, they evidently decided, to announce their presence, rather than startle her. And that was why she made no movement, no sound, now, as she tried to figure out where the voices were coming from.

Below her. They were coming from below her. The voices were too clear to be coming from the floor under hers. . .which meant. . . Alorie looked out the window, and now discovered the reason she was bid to remain indoors. Too bad no one mentioned staying out of this room. Lord Elrond was conducting what appeared to be a meeting. She saw Gandalf, heard Elrond, and noticed several elves. There were others. A tiny figure, who reminded her of Pippin and Bilbo, seated beside Gandalf.

On the other side of the circle sat Boromir. The corners of Alorie's mouth lifted as she saw her friend. He was seated with several other Men. And. . .were those dwarves? She met hobbits, wizards, elves and Men. . .but this was the first time since her arrival that she saw a dwarf. Assuming they were, indeed, dwarves. . .perhaps they were something different. One thing she learned while she was here. . .expect the unexpected.

The Ring. What was this about a Ring? Why was it so important? Why was a piece of jewelry so feared by these people? It made no sense, and Alorie listened more intently, hoping to understand. The small figure seated beside Gandalf stepped forward and placed the Ring on a round altar in the middle of the chamber. She couldn't see it from her position, but that mattered little. Why was this Ring so feared?

Then she heard something very interesting. This Ring, called the Ring of Power, belonged to a ruthless dictator. . .or as they called them here, a 'Dark Lord.' Sounded like a cross between Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin. . .only worse. Maybe a little bit of Darth Vader and Oliver Cromwell? Three thousand years earlier, this Dark Lord, this Sauron, was destroyed in a great battle. But his Ring remained, and it was this Ring that was now at this council.

A quiet voice interrupted something Boromir was saying. . .the Gondorian was speaking too rapidly for Alorie to understand him. However, she knew her friend well enough to realize that Boromir was not pleased about whatever the owner of the quiet voice said. A new voice interrupted, speaking loud enough and clearly enough for the newcomer to understand, "This is no mere Ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and rightful king of Gondor! You owe him your allegiance." Alorie raised her eyebrows. So that was Arwen's Aragorn!

Boromir's words were clear enough for all to hear and understand, "Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no king." Alorie frowned at the bitterness in his voice. They never really talked about Gondor. . .Boromir was usually too busy helping her with her syntax and vocabulary. Occasionally, he would talk about his little brother, but that was about it. Right now, his tone reflected his disgust. . .or was it something else? She wished she could see his face. . .but would that have really helped?

She was so focused on her concern about Boromir, she lost track of the conversation once more. However, her attention was snapped back to the meeting below her by a terrific explosion. Alorie clapped a hand over her mouth, to prevent herself from crying out, and stared down at the ground. A dwarf was lying there, obviously stunned, and his kinfolk quickly pulled him upright. What the hell just happened?

Her answer came a moment later, when Lord Elrond told the dwarf. . .Gimli, son of Gloin? Told him that the only way the Ring could be destroyed was by casting it into Mount Doom, back into the fires which created it. No weapon made by men, elves, or dwarves could destroy it. Her lips twitched as Evy Carnahan's words in The Mummy came back to her, when reminded that no mortal weapon could destroy the high priest Imhotep, "Then we'll just have to find someimmortal ones!" Her smile disappeared quickly, for the meeting was disintegrating into a free-for-all.

She cringed, witnessing the heated argument between Boromir and Gandalf. . . other arguments broke out at the same time. But it was the confrontation between Boromir and Gandalf that truly worried her. Alorie sensed Boromir's distrust of the wizard, and he acknowledged as much when she asked him about it, but wouldn't explain the why of it. At last, a voice cried out, "I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor!"

Boromir's back was to Alorie, so she couldn't see his face. . .but she could see Gandalf's face when the voice broke through the arguments. An expression of grief was clearly visible as he closed his eyes. It was the hobbit who was seated next to him. She noticed earlier that Gandalf seemed rather fond of him. The hobbit continued, his voice wobbling with fear and determination, "Though I do not know the way."

Gandalf hastened to the small hobbit's side, replying something to the effect of, "I can help with that, Frodo Baggins." Frodo? She knew that name. And her translation probably wasn't exactly right, but her Westron was still not as good as her Sindarin. And it mattered not at all, for Alorie heard the soft-spoken Aragorn pledge himself to Frodo, vowing to protect him with his life or death. She could not see his face, only his dark hair. An elf followed suit, then the dwarf who attempted to destroy the Ring.

Then finally Boromir spoke, approaching the small group, "You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council. . .Gondor will see it done." Something about his words pierced Alorie's heart, and her hands tightened around the book of Sindarin poetry. Even without the amazing resemblance between Brody and Boromir. . .the phraseology was different, but the sentiment was the same. Brody sometimes doubted the wisdom of things he did, but carried out the instructions he was given nonetheless.

So that was Boromir, Aragorn, this Frodo, the elf, the dwarf and Gandalf. Two men, an elf, a dwarf, a hobbit, and a wizard. Did this small group have a chance succeeding where huge armies failed? Come to think of it, they probably had a better chance than a huge army. But right now, she needed to talk to someone. Alorie was on the point of vacating her window seat, when a voice blurted out, "OI! Mr Frodo's not goin' anywhere without me!"

"No, indeed, it is quite impossible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council meeting and you are not," Lord Elrond said, amusement and sternness warring. At that point, two more intruders were revealed. . .the mischievous Pippin and another hobbit. Four hobbits, two men, a dwarf, an elf, and a wizard. Nine. There were nine companions, as the Elven Lord said then. He declared them to be 'The Fellowship of the Ring.'

At which point, Pippin exclaimed, "Right! Where are we going?" For the second time in the last few moments, Alorie clapped her hand over her mouth. . .this time, to keep from laughing. Where are we going, indeed? Still, her smile faded quickly. She knew little of the journey they were about to undertake, and understood even less, but just the sound of 'Mordor' made her shudder. She had a lot of questions. What exactly was so important about this Ring, and what connection did it have to this Sauron? Yes, he was the original owner of this Ring, but he was dead. Wasn't he?

Alorie eased from the room, deeply concerned by what she just heard. She really didn't pay any attention to her surroundings. She had to find Arwen. If anyone could help her make sense of what she just heard, it would be Arwen. She hadn't gone two steps when she heard, "Did you hear aught of interest, my Lady?" Alorie froze and turned to face Erestor. They stared at each other for several moments, then Erestor continued, "That room overlooks the pavilion used for the secret Council regarding the One Ring."

Alorie's shoulders went up and back as she replied, "I was told to stay inside. Nothing was said about this ward. I was reading, my Lord Erestor, and heard voices below me. I guess I froze when I heard the name 'Aragorn.' I knew Gandalf wanted us to remain separate. . .I suppose I was hoping to find out why that was. Why, I mean, we were to be kept apart." This wasn't a lie. That played into it. But then, so did her own curiosity.

At the mention of Aragorn, Erestor looked guilty. Hmm, that was interesting. He asked quietly, "What did you hear during the Council?" Alorie was silent as she walked alongside the Elf, trying to decide what she should tell him. She was still trying to piece together all the information, trying to understand just why Boromir sounded so upset. Erestor waited patiently, then repeated, "Lady Alorie? What did you hear?"

She sighed and answered, "I understood little of what was said. My Westron is terrible, my Lord Erestor, you know that." The dark-haired Elf dipped his head, as if this was something he failed to remember. Alorie added, "All I understood without difficulty was when Boromir said 'no king,' when the little one said he would take the Ring to Gondor. Those are the parts that really stuck out for me, at least. And of course, when that one told someone named Greenleaf to sit down, in Sindarin. That is the proper translation for his name, yes?"

"It is. . .'Legolas' means 'Greenleaf' in the Common Tongue. And that was Aragorn who spoke. The little one who is taking the Ring is Frodo, though I think it foolish. He is a Hobbit, a halfling. Even with the protection of Estel and Legolas, he still has little chance against the forces of Mordor," Erestor muttered. Alorie noticed that he didn't even include Boromir or the dwarf in his reckoning.

She didn't ask about that, however. Alorie had a sneaking suspicion that she didn't want to know, especially given the confrontation she witnessed between the dwarves and the elves earlier. Instead, seeing a chance to get some answers, she asked, "Erestor, why exactly does Gandalf want to keep me away from Aragorn? Based on Boromir's reaction, it sounded like Aragorn has a claim to the throne of Gondor. Is that why? Because he is rightfully a king, and I am of no aristocracy, naught but a peasant? Or is it because he is betrothed to Arwen? Why?"

In truth, that was her insecurity talking. . .her insecurity and her utter lack of knowledge about the mores of this time, with regard to the relationship between royalty and non-royalty. If this was indeed the distant past, it was likely that peasants, or anyone not of the aristocracy, were kept away from members of the royal family. Erestor looked both shocked and uncomfortable as he replied, "Never! Never think such a thing! You are no peasant! In truth, my Lady Alorie, I know little of Mithrandir's reasons. But I do know he has them."

Great. Yeah, she figured that Gandalf had his reasons, but it would be nice if someone clued her in about said reasons. Erestor said thoughtfully, "You said you were ordered to stay inside. And you did. Were you not curious about the reason for it?" Alorie looked at him, raising her eyebrows, and Erestor continued, "You must understand. I was here when Estel was a child, and his curiosity was. . .overwhelming."

"Of course I was curious. I was also. . ." Alorie began. She was on the verge of saying 'pissed off,' then remembered that a) she was speaking Sindarin, not English and b) had no idea if it would even translate properly. Instead, she substituted, "I was also a little angry. I have little liking for being ordered, as if I was a slow child. However, I stayed inside. I shall lose my home soon enough. . .why push it ahead of schedule?"

Erestor opened his mouth, but a familiar voice called, "Alorie! I am so glad I found you!" It was Arwen. She smiled at Erestor, adding, "Thank you for taking care of her, Erestor. Alorie, I think Lord Boromir would enjoy a visit." Maybe not, but Boromir probably felt as though his world was turned upside down. And she was entirely too familiar with that feeling.

"Thank you, my Lord Erestor. I am ready, Arwen," Alorie replied. She bowed a little to Erestor, still unsure if this was proper etiquette. No one told her differently when she did it, so she assumed it was acceptable. Arwen smiled at Erestor one last time, and put her arm around Alorie's shoulders. As they walked away, Alorie whispered, "Are you all right? I was worried about you when I could not find you earlier."

"You know about the Fellowship," Arwen stated, rather than asked. Alorie nodded, choosing not to ask how her friend knew about it. Arwen continued, "They will leave Rivendell in two month's time. It is necessary to make certain they have sufficient supplies for their journey to Mordor. Alorie, my father. . .he also told me. In six weeks, you will be leaving Imladris as well. You will be returning with the dwarves."

Alorie felt all the color drain from her face. So this was it. Her time with the Elves was ending. She knew this was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. Six weeks with Arwen. Six weeks with the only father she ever really knew. She looked up at Arwen, who squeezed her shoulder. She said softly, "Go to Boromir. I believe you need him as much as he needs you."

The will of the Council was to take a small hobbit into Mordor, where he could destroy the Ring. Boromir thought it foolish, but he was the only one. The Captain-General sank into a chair once he returned to his quarters, burying his face in his hands. As if that was not bad enough, Isildur's heir was found at the same time as Isildur's Bane. And even more damning, it was the Ranger he met the previous night.

Isildur's heir. What would his father make of this? Boromir smiled humorlessly. His father. Denethor II, son of Ecthelion, Ruling Steward of Gondor. For nearly a thousand years, the Stewards, the line of Hurin, ruled over Gondor in the absence of the king. What would happen, if Aragorn, son of Arathorn, sought to take his crown now? Would such a thing come to pass? Boromir groaned, trying to refocus his attention.

There was naught he could do about Aragorn's claim to the throne, if he did, indeed, intend to claim it. For now, there was the matter of the Ring of Power. Eru's blood. . .what were they thinking? A soft knock drew his attention to the door, and Boromir thought briefly to tell whoever was at the door to leave him be. But he was curious about who would be visiting him right now. Surely not that damnable Ranger?

He rose to his feet. It was not. It was an even more familiar person, tiny and anxious-looking. Alorie looked up at him, asking softly in stilted Westron, "Are you. . .acceptable?" Boromir smiled and took her hand, drawing her into the room. She stared up at him, her eyes reflecting a very genuine worry. No one other than Faramir ever looked at him like that, since his mother's death.

"I am well enough, my Lady. But I thank you for your concern," he replied, making sure he spoke slowly. Her question, if he was 'acceptable' reminded him that she was still struggling with Westron. Though she made excellent progress, it was due to her intelligence, rather than his skills as a teacher. Alorie continued to gaze at him worriedly, and Boromir knew then. Why she was here, and he asked, "You know of the Council?"

Unexpectedly, she flushed and replied, "My favorite place to read is above the place of meeting. I was reading, when I heard voices." Boromir could just imagine. He was on the point of apologizing for distressing her, when she asked softly, "Are you well, Boromir? I was so worried for you." Boromir felt some of the tension slipping from him at this honest concern. She was here because she was worried about him. Only that.

He drew in a deep breath, then smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, and murmured, "If not for the perils of the journey, I should like to take you with us. I believe you would be a most winsome travel companion. But this quest is no place for a hobbits who have lived in Middle-earth for all of their years. . .much less a young girl who has only just arrived in our world. I would protect you, my Lady."

Unexpectedly, she smiled, though there was no joy in her smile. Only sadness. She replied, "I wish I could come with you. At least then, I would be traveling with someone I know. Before you leave on your quest, I will leave on my own journey. The time of the Elves is over, and they cannot take me with them. I am to go with the dwarves." As usual, once she relaxed, her command of the language improved.

Her smile grew sadder as she added, "I will miss you, Boromir of Gondor. I will miss you very much." Her presence was a balm to his unsettled mind and his wounded pride. Boromir drew her into a fierce embrace, though he remembered what happened the first time he did such a thing and was now careful of her still-healing injuries.

Not careful enough, however, for she choked back a sob. Concerned, Boromir drew back to look at her, but her good arm closed around his waist. She buried her face in his chest, quietly crying. Boromir, never able to resist a hurting little one, cupped the back of her head, and just held her. He lay his cheek against her dark hair. The words poured from her, intermingled with hiccupping sobs. She was to go with the dwarves. . .beings she never even met!

Through the sobs, Boromir began to put the pieces together. For months, Rivendell or Imladris had been her home. She found a family in Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen. She was finally accepting the bizarre change in her home. And now, she would have to leave that home. She was not bitter, no. . . she understood why she had to go. But. . .she would miss them all so much, and she wasn't sure why Gandalf wanted to keep her separate from Aragorn?

Boromir's jaw tightened at the mention of Isildur's heir, then his throat tightened at Alorie's next words. She knew now that Aragorn was the heir of Isildur, and therefore royalty. Erestor said that it wasn't because she was a peasant, not of royal blood, that they were kept separate, but. . . Boromir could not allow that comment to pass without rebuttal. He whispered, "Never think such a thing, Lady Alorie! You are no peasant!"

It was on the tip of his tongue to say that she was far more regal than a Ranger of the North, even if thatRanger was Isildur's Heir. However, he chose to tell her instead, "You must never think of yourself in such a way, my Lady. I admit I understand Mithrandir little, but this I do know. . .he does not regard you as lesser, because you are not of royal blood. Nay, he has other reasons for his desire to keep you separated."

There was a little cough, then Alorie replied, "I am sorry. . .I should not say such things. It. . .I am so tired, Boromir. I do not wish to go with the dwarves, though it is no reflection on them. But I have a home here and a family! Do you know what that is like? I know you lost your mother when you were small, but you still have your father and your brother. The only family I have in my own time are my three friends, Delia, Ava, and Wendy."

Boromir ignored the stab of pain which accompanied her mention of his father and brother. He wished for this assignment, in part because he wished to protect his little brother. And also because with Boromir away, perhaps his father would finally open his eyes and realize what a jewel Faramir truly was. A vain hope, no doubt, but giving up was as alien to Boromir as the language this girl spoke sometimes when she thought she was alone.

Alorie sighed unexpectedly and shook her head, drawing back to look at him. She smiled sadly and said, "I am sorry. I am whining. I came here to comfort you, because I know you have had several nasty shocks. And instead, I end up weeping in your arms." Boromir could only smile at her and drop a gentle kiss on her dark hair, then repeated the gesture against the pale skin of her forehead.

"You have comforted me, my Lady. I admit, it was an unpleasant shock," and he did not specify which one, as he received several, "but I am not the only one who has had unpleasant shocks." Boromir almost laughed aloud at her confused look.

However, he maintained his composure. The child wasn't overly sensitive, but at the moment, she felt rather fragile. He chided gently, "I speak of you, silly child! You have shown amazing strength. . . arriving in a time and place not of your own. Learning not just one, but two languages utterly alien to your own. And though you have lost your entire blood family, you still have the strength to reach out. That takes great courage, little one."

She opened her mouth, and Boromir knew she meant to protest, but he silenced her by pressing a single finger to her lips. He murmured, "I know of what I speak. To continue to love, even after losing almost everything. . .tis a great accomplishment. I am a soldier, my Lady. I face battle and death, and I do fear. I fear never seeing my city again, or my father, or my brother. I fear failing my people. But being afraid does not make me a coward. Believe me when I say, my Lady Alorie, you are no coward."

This time, there was less sadness in her smile. She said softly, "Then I shall not dispute you. Boromir? May I. . .may I sit with you a while?" He understood what she meant. It was not a request for her to lie with him. . .just to remain here, in his rooms. Boromir did better than that. He sat down on his bed, then pulled Alorie into his lap. Her arms wrapped around him, and she buried her face against his shoulder. Neither spoke a word. . .they just held onto each other. Because perhaps, Boromir needed to be held just as badly as Alorie did.

The next several weeks were quite busy. There were supplies to pack, and routes to plan. The night of the Council, there was a feast. As usual, Alorie thanked Arwen and her father for the invitation, but admitted she still wasn't comfortable with eating in a crowd. Arwen didn't push, and instead, encouraged her friend to spend time with Boromir. The Man was ill at ease among the Elves, and seemed to take comfort in Alorie's company.

He was drawn to Imladris by a riddle and his father's orders, but like many of his kind, had little knowledge or understanding of Elves. Perhaps he felt he found a similar soul in Alorie. Arwen just knew that as the weeks passed, Alorie spent the majority of her time with either Boromir or Arwen. She was saying her good-byes, before the day was come that she would have to leave. Arwen saw this, and it broke her heart.

There was another for whom Arwen was deeply concerned. Frodo Baggins, Bilbo's young cousin. He was fifty years old, which to an elf was hardly more than a child. Arwen knew that the wound he sustained on Weathertop, from a Morgul blade, would pain him for the rest of his life. And now, now that he would journey into Mordor to destroy the Ring, Arwen feared that life would be short indeed.

But it was as she told Aragorn. The shadow did not yet hold sway. Not over him, not over her. . . not even over Frodo. And she swore to herself that since she would not sail to Valinor, that Frodo would take her place. Arwen did not fool herself into thinking that her father would give up on trying to convince her to forsake Aragorn and sail with him to the Undying Lands. Twas not that her father thought less of Aragorn. Indeed, she knew he loved him, as his own son. But he already knew he would lose Aragorn, and did not also wish to lose Arwen.

Knowing this, however, was not always enough. There were times when Arwen resented her father's determination to take her with him to Valinor. And she hated herself for that resentment, particularly when she saw her little sister and father together. Alorie, long denied the love and guidance of a father, soaked up the affection shown to her by those Elves who accepted her presence.

And what little remaining resentment she felt died when she thought about never seeing her father, her mother, or her grandparents ever again. At the same time, she took comfort in what Alorie told her of her own time. How there were people closely resembling Arwen, and Boromir, and others. In Alorie's time, there was an idea called 'reincarnation.' Put simply, it was the idea that a person was reborn throughout the ages.

Arwen found a great deal of comfort in that. Alorie spent a great deal of time thinking, when she had time to be alone, and she guessed that her own time was about twenty to thirty thousand years into the future. A long time indeed, and if her suspicion was correct, that those who appeared similar in this time were previous incarnations of Alorie's friends in her own time. . .who knew?

Alorie admitted that her logic was imperfect, since rebirths took many forms. One could be reborn as a member of the opposite sex, after all. But her friend Ava, who practiced magick, told Alorie about rumors of a reincarnation spell. In this spell, a person could be reborn, wearing the same face they did in the past. Ava knew not if this spell actually existed, but Alorie liked to believe it did. It would explain so many things.

Did Alorie believe that her friend Wendy was Arwen's own reincarnation? Her little sister smiled and answered she wanted to believe that. Just as she wanted to believe that Brody was the reincarnation of Boromir. But there was a sadness in her eyes when she spoke so, such a deep sadness, and Arwen wanted to know why. After a long moment, Alorie answered, "In order to be reborn, one must first die. . .and I do not wish to think of you or Boromir as dead. I do not want any of you to die."

Arwen felt a lump form in her throat, and she wrapped her arms around Alorie, drawing her close. Alorie rested her head against Arwen's shoulder, murmuring, "So many times, Arwen, I have wondered if I love you because of you, or because you look so much like Wendy, it takes my breath away. I know I told you, Wendy took care of me after Michael and Flynn were murdered. She. . . she made sure I ate, and bathed. She forced me to get out of bed each and every day. I think you could say she saved my life, just like you did. You deserve better than that, Arwen. You deserve more than to be an echo of someone else. You are no echo."

Arwen had nothing to say to that, and instead, tightened her arms around Alorie. They held each other for what seemed to be an eternity. But they had not an eternity. In a very short time, Alorie would leave with the dwarves, and remain safe with them until the end of the War that was coming. Arwen had no idea if she would even see her beloved friend again. She hoped so. She wanted it to be so.

That was three days earlier, and six days after the council meeting. Aragorn told her that Frodo thanked him after the Council, telling him that he was pleased to have Aragorn as a traveling companion once more. If Aragorn had not volunteered, Frodo would have asked him to come. Arwen smiled, listening to her beloved. . .smiled at Frodo's words, and at the ease Aragorn took when he told her what troubled him.

It made her heart rejoice, to know that they could talk about such things. She knew that he wished to protect her from the darkness of the world, but she also knew that was not possible. She saw too many things before he was even born, in the years of her life. Even so, Estel was a protector at heart, and it was what he was, as well as whom he was. He would never stop protecting. Twas why she wished. . .hoped. . .that he and Boromir would become friends.

Boromir was another who was a protector. She saw it when he crouched beside Merry and Pippin, helping them with their part of the distribution of the supplies. She heard it in his voice, when he spoke of his city, his people, his brother. Oh yes, she heard it particularly when he spoke of his darling little brother, his Faramir. Not longer a child, but at the same time, in Boromir's eyes, he would forever be a child.

He could not help himself. He was older than Faramir by five years, and Arwen knew a thing or two about older brothers. Even now, Elrohir and Elladan thought of her as an elfling. Older brothers were the same, whether they were Elves or Men. Boromir admitted it honestly. His brother was thirty-five years old, Captain of the Ithilien Rangers, honored and respected by his men. . .but he was still Boromir's little brother. And ever would be.

Stubborn men! Boromir was seeing his world fall apart. He feared Aragorn, feared what Aragorn would mean for his country, for his father, for his brother. And Aragorn had fears of his own. Fear that he would make the same mistakes as his distant ancestor Isildur. Fear that if he took on this great responsibility, he would not be good enough. It was such a weighty burden, being responsible for so many. It was his birthright. But when he fought in this War, it would not be because of his birthright.

Arwen believed, however, that his birthright would turn the tide. She was not born at the time of that great battle, but she believed strongly that Sauron was afraid of Aragorn. That was both a good thing, and a bad. It was a bad thing, because he would set his will against Aragorn that much more, would seek even more to kill him. It was a good thing, because such a fear was a weakness, a vulnerability, and one that could be exploited. Aragorn had the determination to beat Sauron, to destroy the Dark Lord once and for all. She had faith in him. Just as she had faith in Boromir. He could be trusted with her Estel's life. She knew that already. The only question that remained was the Ring. . .could he resist the Ring long enough?

And so she watched the two humans, who were so awkward around each other. She watched in silence, hoping that somewhere along the way, they would realize that they were stronger as a team, working together, than they were separate. As her father had said. . .they would unite, or they would die. In her heart, she pleaded, Boromir, lay down your armor. Lay down your armor, for that may be the only way you and Aragorn may survive!

Arwen was not the only one observing the son of the Steward and the heir to Gondor's throne. There was another, one who loved Aragorn as his own. Gandalf, or Mithrandir, or Olorin, was quietly watching the two humans as they prepared for the upcoming journey. He could not see the future, but he wishes to observe Boromir. The boy was not evil. Not even close to it, but Gandalf feared he didn't understand what the Ring could do to him.

"Alorie has been asking why you wish to keep her and Aragorn separate. You may wish to speak with her before she is sent with the dwarves. The child actually thought it was because she was considered a peasant, and unfit to associate with self-exiled kings!" Elrond said from behind him. Gandalf smiled faintly, though there was no malice in his heart. Yes, he should have expected something like that.

"I will speak with her, Elrond, but I must insist that they remain separated. We were most fortunate that she did not see Aragorn during the Council. She is a good girl. . .but her obedience in this is most important. The reason for her arrival in Middle-earth is still clouded for me. Until I know why she is here, she cannot be permitted to interact with Aragorn. It is entirely too risky," Gandalf replied.

The 'why' remained unasked, and Gandalf murmured, "I have seen into her mind, Elrond. She is angry, frightened, and confused. . .even now. You know of her deep love for her brother Michael, and the young man Flynn." Elrond nodded, and the wizard continued, "You have seen how she behaves with your daughter, and with Boromir of Gondor. They both closely resemble people from her time."

He waited for Elrond to figure out what he meant, even as he kept the other part of his reason to himself. Alorie would be leaving with the dwarves soon, on a perilous journey. Even for people of Middle-earth, it would be dangerous. Part of what protected Aragorn was that Sauron knew not his appearance. If captured, Alorie could not tell them what she did not know. It sounded cold. And it was his desire that she would never be captured. . .not just for Aragorn's sake, but for her own. He had an idea what was done to Gollum. He wanted nothing of the sort to happen to an innocent child.

Elrond stated, "Aragorn has an appearance similar to her brother?" Gandalf nodded, and Elrond continued with a sigh, "So, you fear that Alorie would attempt to join him as part of the Fellowship. Do you think a child with no skills as a healer, no skills as a warrior, would be capable of protecting Aragorn? He is eighty-seven years old, Gandalf, and she is young enough to be his granddaughter!"

"Ahh, but he has the appearance of a man in his late thirties or early forties. The same age Michael would be, had he lived. And I do, indeed, believe that she would make the attempt to protect him. As you say. She has no skills as a healer, or as a warrior, and she must be protected. She is not foolish, but a young girl who lost her beloved brother. If she was to see him, she would do anything to protect him. . .even put herself at risk. And in so doing, she would condemn us all," Gandalf replied.

The wizard turned to see Elrond frowning, as he realized Gandalf spoke the truth. After a moment, the Lord of Imladris said slowly, "Is there aught else to this? Have you given thought to the reason Aragorn so closely resembles her elder brother?" Gandalf couldn't answer, not yet. There was far too much he didn't know. Perhaps sensing that it was time to close the subject of Alorie, Elrond asked, "What of Radagast? Has he betrayed us as well?"

"I do not believe so. It is my belief that Saruman used him," Gandalf replied. Elrond nodded, and Gandalf asked, recalling their previous conversation, "Do you still believe there is no strength left in Men?" Elrond grimaced, and Gandalf continued, "Aragorn will find the strength he requires, when the time comes. Perhaps he turned from the path of the king in the past, because it was not yet time to take his crown."

"Perhaps," Elrond replied, and it seemed likely that he would say no more. Gandalf looked at the Elven Lord in silence, and after a moment, his old friend continued, "I see what he can be. . .what he was born to be. Why does he fight against it so, Mithrandir? Does he truly think that he could do such a poor job as the King of Gondor and Arnor? Is that what concerns him? I know my Estel, Mithrandir. I know his quality, as the Gondorians say. I know the quality of his heart. I know he cares truly for others. I know he would make a fine ruler."

"You and I can see it, my friend. . .but as yet, he cannot. That is why he is not ready to take the crown," the wizard replied. Elrond released a breath, and for a moment, Gandalf considered speaking of Arwen, but decided that would be a poor choice for now. Elrond, ever protective of his last-born child, would remind Gandalf that he had no children of his own. This was true, if one limited oneself to the children borne of one's own body. Then again, Gandalf believed not in limiting himself in that manner.

Even so, he had to trust in Aragorn and Arwen to hold true to each other. If they could do such a thing, even with the resistance from Elrond, then they were meant to be together. Gandalf changed the subject this time, asking, "What think you of Boromir?" The Elf merely looked exasperated, and the wizard said, "He is a good man, struggling to hold his people, his city, his world together. I sometimes lose patience with the boy, usually when I heard his father speaking in Boromir's voice."

"You have little liking for Denethor," Elrond observed, and Gandalf smiled grimly. It mattered not if he disliked Denethor or not. What mattered was that the man was the Ruling Steward of Gondor, and the wizard felt bound to offer his advice, even if it was ignored. He had no wish to see the White City fall. . .if Aragorn was to take up his inheritance, it was Gandalf's preference that said inheritance remain intact.

"I am fond of his younger son, Faramir. I wish you could meet him, Elrond. A good lad he is. Somewhat like Aragorn, but not entirely. I fear for Boromir because of the pressure under which he serves his father and Gondor. I fear for Faramir, because he still yearns for his father's love and approval. Denethor does love his son, I have no doubt of that. But. . .Ecthelion taught his own son that scholarly pursuits were weak, and now that lesson is being passed along to Faramir," Gandalf explained.

"As an adult, he surely realizes that. . ." Elrond began, but fell silent as Gandalf gazed at him for several long moments. No, Gandalf had no children of his own loins, of his own blood. Such joy was denied him, because of his long life. But in the thousands of years he lived, he had much time to observe parents and children of all ages. Whether those parents and children were Eldar or Men, it mattered little.

"Parents have more ability than anyone else to hurt their children. To cause them grief. A child wishes for the love of his or her father and mother. The fortunate ones know that they have it. And I have seen, through the ages, that no matter what a child's age, that wish remains. Tis why Aragorn and Arwen heeded your conditions, regarding their marriage. Tis why Boromir of Gondor is here. Those borne of another always long to prove themselves worthy to those who have gone before. They yearn to be good enough," Gandalf replied.

Elrond was silent at that, and Gandalf said again, "Parents have the capacity, the ability, to wound their child beyond all imagination. A biting remark, a harsh blow. The beliefthat nothing they do is good enough, will ever be good enough. You have seen that, Elrond, in your own House. You have seen that, each time you look into Alorie's eyes. She has spent her entire life, trying to prove something to her parents. . .trying to prove they were wrong to leave her."

Elrond said at last, his voice very dry, "I believe, Mithrandir, that was the most long-winded speech I have ever heard from you, instructing me not to judge someone." In spite of himself, Gandalf smiled. Perhaps he was overly protective of Faramir, but he felt he had a reason and a right to be. He knew Faramir as a child, and very quickly grew to love him. Twas an easy thing, to love that little boy. Elrond continued, "It was not my intention to judge the boy, though I accept your meaning. And you do speak truly. Tis not an easy thing to simply accept that naught you do will ever be acceptable to the one who created you."

"Or raised you," Gandalf said, treading very close to a line he had no business crossing. He received a sharp look from Elrond, and added innocently, "I speak the truth once more, Elrond. After the death of Lady Finduilas, Denethor raised his two sons alone. You are entirely too sensitive about Estel's upbringing, Elrond. . .Aragorn had Gilraen as well, until he was well past fifty years of age."

Whether he managed the innocence he wished for, he knew not. It was a hard thing, even making an attempt at innocence when one lived for three hundred lifetimes of men. Elrond murmured, "You are a sly old wizard. Yet for all that, I do trust you." Gandalf harrumphed, but smiled to himself nonetheless. He understood what Elrond meant. They knew each other for a little under two thousand years. Of course he understood.

He was on the point of taking his leave of his old friend when Elrond said, "You will speak with Alorie, ere she leaves? The child needs to know she is guilty of no wrongdoing." Gandalf nodded. Yes, he would speak to the child. It would be necessary, for through her eyes, he could see that she believed she was being sent away. Cast aside, like an unwanted garment. In her mind, she might know the difference. . .but her heart lied to her on occasion.

Gimli, son of Gloin, held little respect or liking for Elves. And for the princeling of Mirkwood, there could never be trust. Gloin was cast into the dungeon of little Greenleaf's father. Not something Gimli intended to forget, and he planned to keep an eye on the Elfling during their journey. He knew not Aragorn, son of Arathorn, but the Ring-bearer seemed to trust him. And the Ring-bearer was the nephew, or was it cousin, of Gloin's old friend Bilbo Baggins.

Personally, the member of the Fellowship whom Gimli liked the best so far was the blond-haired Man, Boromir. During the weeks since the Council, Gimli and Boromir spent a great deal of time together. . .usually sitting down, since the top of Gimli's head, without his helmet, reached Boromir's waist. Not an easy thing, attempting a conversation under such circumstances. Was much easier to sit down.

They spoke of the upcoming journey, of their companions. Gimli learned that his new friend distrusted Aragorn. . .those words, Boromir said. What Gimli also heard was that he wished he did, for he rather liked Isildur's heir. Or could, if there wasn't the matter of the crown between them. To say nothing of. . .other things. On one such day, Gimli spotted the dark-haired lass who spent so much time in Boromir's company. Jesting with his new friend, Gimli observed, "Look, laddie, there's yuir wee lass."

Boromir looked at him in amusement, then smiled when he saw the lass in question. He replied, "She is not mine, Master Dwarf, unless you count her as a surrogate younger sister. Her name is Alorie, or so the Elves call her. Would you like an introduction? I must ask you to speak very slowly when I call her over, for she still finds Westron difficult. She came to Middle-earth knowing neither Sindarin nor Westron."

Gimli was not inclined to trust someone cared for by the Elves, but Boromir seemed to trust her, so he nodded begrudgingly. Boromir called out, "Alorie?" She looked up, and smiled, her entire face lighting up. She had not the radiance of the elves, but she was a pretty enough lass. Her dark hair was worn to her shoulders, and freshly washed. . .it was still wet. . .there were reddish highlights in her hair. The hair that wasn't interlaced with silver, that is.

Her eyes seemed to be a light brown color, and freckles dotted her triangular face. The lass joined them, saying, "Boromir!" Her attention turned to Gimli, and her smile turned quizzical. She asked, her voice halting as if she had not all her wits, "Who. . .is. . .this? He. . .looks familiar." Gimli reminded himself of what Boromir said, how she was still learning the Common Tongue, and bade himself to remain patient with the lass.

"This is Gimli, son of Gloin. Gimli, this is Alorie. . .I am told that in her world, she is called 'Allison.' I think 'Alorie' a much lovelier name," Boromir said with a smile. She blushed, smiling back. It was on Gimli's tongue to protest that Boromir was speaking much faster than he usually did. However, Boromir preempted him, saying, "Alorie and I have spent many days talking. Your accent may be difficult for her to understand."

Accent! He had no accent! Well. . .unless his speaking of the Common Tongue was compared to Boromir, who was from Gondor. Begrudgingly, he nodded and delicately took her hand. He bowed his head briefly, saying as clearly as he could, "Tis a pleasure t' meet ye, lassie. Boromir speaks very highly of ye." Alorie's lips formed words, then she smiled, as if she understood what he said.

Gimli looked askance at Boromir, who said softly, "She repeats the words you say, just to make sure she understood them. She is not slow-witted. . .merely careful about what she says. Certain words. . .are not known to her, in her own language. There are times, when she thinks she is alone, that she speaks her own language to herself. I cannot understand anything she says, I understand only her tone."

Boromir's words were proven correct only a moment later, when Alorie said, "The pleasure. . .is mine. Axe. . ." She frowned, as if trying to find a specific word. She gave a frustrated huff, then threw her hands up. She looked at him expectantly, and Gimli frowned. She sighed, and repeated the gesture, repeating also, "Axe. Ring not destroyed." The destruction of his axe when he tried to destroy the Ring.

"Ye knew about that?" he asked, momentarily forgetting to speak clearly. But it seemed she understood, because her smile turned mischievous. Gimli looked at Boromir, who also smiled, and the dwarf continued, "Well, then, lass. . .tell me what ye think of this journey." She shrugged, her smile dimming just a little. Boromir put his hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner.

"She will embark on her own journey, Gimli. She is being sent with the dwarves, for safe-keeping," he explained. Gimli frowned. He remembered Gloin speaking of a child who would accompany the dwarves back to Erebor.

However, when a child was mentioned, he expected. . .an actual human child. This young girl seemed to be only slightly older than the elfling Greenleaf. Aye, Elves lived a long time, and it seemed likely that the princeling was several hundred years old, if not thousands. Boromir continued, "I spend time with her when I can. I know not if I will ever see her again, or if she will be returned to her own time and place."

Alorie made a face at him, patting the air. Boromir smiled and added, "Forgive me, my Lady. I did not mean to speak so quickly." Boromir understood her? The Gondorian explained, seeing Gimli's confused look, "When she becomesfrustrated, she forgets words and starts speaking with her hands. As she did just now. She was asking me to slow down." Well now. That made a great deal of sense to the dwarf!

"Then I shall have a word wi' Gloin and the others. They may not understand what the lass is tryin' t' do. Och! Here comes that prissy elf once more!" Gimli muttered. Boromir looked toward the newcomer, his green eyes flashing. Evidently, the Man still hadn't forgotten the words exchanged with the princeling at the Council of Elrond. Just as evidently, the prissy elf had not yet forgotten either, for he returned the glare steadily.

What no one counted on was Alorie moving between the two blonds, standing in front of Boromir in a stance that would have seemed protective, if she was not so much smaller than the Man. Small hands came to rest on her hips, and her chin lifted defiantly. Elf or no elf, she didn't care for the way he looked at her friend and champion. Legolas Thranduilion blinked in amazement at the diminutive woman, then he smiled. The princeling inclined his head to the girl, then slipped away gracefully.

Alorie remained protectively in front of Boromir for a few more seconds, her eyes tracking the elf's departure. At last, the Man put his hand on her shoulder, drawing her around to face him. He was trying not to smile. A wise idea, Gimli realized when Alorie lightly punched the Man in his chest, saying definitively, "MINE!" There was no way that anyone who heard could have misunderstood her meaning.

"As I said earlier, Alorie," Boromir said, rubbing his chest, "were this a journey for young ladies, I would welcome your companionship." Alorie blushed and ducked her head in embarrassment. The Man put his finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him, as he added, "As it is, I will miss you very much, little one. You and I shall see each other ere you leave. But never forget this."

The girl swallowed hard and nodded, her eyes never leaving Boromir's. Most unexpectedly, she threw her arms around him. Even as small as she was, he staggered backward, but kept his footing. There was a desperation in her actions,almost as if she feared never seeing him again. Boromir, for his part, held her tightly and rested his cheek against the dark hair. After a moment, he released her and murmured somethingtoo quietly for Gimli to hear. She nodded with a reluctant sigh, and her hand came up to touch his cheek. His hand covered hers, in a silent message only they understood. She turned to Gimli, made a somewhat clumsy but recognizable curtsey, then took her leave.

"So the lass isna yuirs, lad?" Gimli questioned. Boromir sat down once more, sighing quietly. He shook his head, his blond hair flying in the opposite direction. The dwarf continued, "She seemed to be yuirs. She woulda shielded ye wi' her own body." Now Boromir smiled, his eyes reflecting a strange sadness. Though he was an Elf-friend, Gimli noticed a sadness in the eyes of Isildur's heir. He did not like seeing that sadness in Boromir's eyes as well.

"Not in the way you mean, Gimli. We are friends. . .she is as a sister to me. Speak with your father. Ask him to look out for her. I cannot do that, and I would have someone I trust in my stead. Will you do this for me?" Boromir asked. What could Gimli say? Boromir was the closest thing he had to a friend on this quest to date. It was a small thing to ask, particularly since the child would be traveling with Gloin anyhow. He nodded, and won a smile.

Boromir said, "Then come. I believe there are two mischievous hobbits who are on the verge of getting into even more mischief." Looking over at Merry and Pippin, Gimli decided that the Man was right. On the other hand, those two were almost always in mischief of some kind. Lord Elrond was despairing of his decision to allow the pair to join the Fellowship. Gimli, however, was pleased. He would enjoy having the hobbits along.