Author Note: I take responsibility for what you read, though not for the nature of it. That is my mind playing tricks on me, hoping you might enjoy the read. Please let me know the analysis!

Oh yeah! Technically, an LotR/Troy crossover. But it is very heavy on Troy; probably don't even have to enjoy LotR.

Clarification: Mari/Amaris is a woman who happened to be around at the time of the War of the Ring; she is VERY "long lived" and gets to watch the Trojan war. Lucky her.

WARNING--- this story is quite adult in nature. It has violence and "hints" of sexuality. Please, watch yourself.

PS- standard disclaimer applies. Neither LotR nor Troy are mine.

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Amaris looked well into the grey eyes before her and felt the heart within her breast flutter. Ten years of liaison, of hiding behind blue robes by day and deep green cloaks at night, of holding herself as a lady, had come to this moment at last. The white gown, loose upon her body, but barely concealed her most private attributes; the intricate braid of peppered hair hung low down her back. These were details that would surely bore themselves deep into Mari's memory for all her long life.

The man across the room reeked of sweat and horse and sea. His armor was spattered with new blood, from the battlefield that had once been a prospering city. His face was tired, and he could not quite manage the smile he wished to show the woman he finally found above the squall below. It was only in the eyes that had entered the senses of his ancient lover that peace abounded.

"You," Amaris whispered, running a finger through her hair without attempting to cover her near nakedness, "are running rather late."

"I do apologize," Odysseus chuckled beneath his terror. "I did not realize we had an appointment."

Then words were no longer possible, nor did they matter. Amaris launched herself from her place at the window, watching the fires below, and across the room- into the arms she knew only too well. Odysseus patted her hair, her back, and for a second even played with the strap of her flimsy sleeping gown. Then fear returned, and he could go no further than to peer behind at the door that he had closed so sharply.

"Is there danger?" Amaris managed to whisper.

Odysseus only nodded for a moment, waiting for her to disengage from their embrace. Then he picked the whole of her form into his arms and crashed out of the room. "Follow my story," he whispered into her nearest ear.

Amaris, picking up quickly, let a cry slip her lips as they neared the other Greek soldiers. She kicked and moaned, struggling with much of her might though she held on with a hand. After a few moments, sensing the fight must leave any normal Trojan female, she slackened into her false captor's arms and pretended to weep bitterly. Other soldiers were completely sold on the vision; Odysseus seemed to be taking a woman- and after ten years of battle, none would blame him for it.

There was no truly safe place for the two to go, but the Ithacan King had planned accordingly. Amaris knew the steps he took only too well, and understood the haven he brought her to: the Temple of Athena, in the corner of the destroyed city. Yet because of Odysseus' devotion to the goddess, he had ordered this one room be spared burning.

A congregation of soldiers finished with slaying had come to this place, and now stood to assure no Trojan sought shelter there. Odysseus, with Amaris still slung in his arms as a captive, was allowed in with many winks and nudges from fellow Greeks.

Amaris clung to her Odysseus as though pleading, but she actually found a moment to whisper a thing nobody else heard as though it was a meaningless murmur: "This is where we met."

Odysseus stalled a moment, and Mari knew he had heard the words.

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Indeed, Amaris had been atop the Temple of Athena when first they had met. It had been a strange feeling, to be going about her day and suddenly have a moment from her past come to haunt her. It was a thing unlooked for, though not unpleasant.

The Temple sat on an outside wall, open to the sea, though it was secured from the invading armies. Not content to hear the battle outside, Amaris had chosen to ascend the top of Athena's house and watch whatever ensued.

Greeks broke upon the armies of Troy for a few moments, and Mari did not mind watching the bodies upon the sand. Even when Troy had clearly become the loser, she could not help but admire the skill of these warriors. Many had skills, and a few used their mind even as they fought.

Which is when Amaris' eyes fell upon the Ithacan. Oh, she had known men to look like those she had known centuries earlier: Paris reminded her of the woodlander once in her bed, after all. Yet this was different somehow. The magic of the elders had allowed Amaris to live long, yet at that moment she was a young girl again. In front of her eyes, Odysseus was the very picture of the lover she had first taken all those years ago. He carried himself with the same wit, and the same confidence. The vision brought a smile to her lips…

And, without warning, their eyes met- and Mari found Odysseus smiling back.

Only he smiled with Boromir's smile. Boromir, who she had loved.

Who knows what Odysseus saw? A vision of his goddess, Athena, or a memory of dearest Penelope- who can say? Perhaps a residue of Boromir's soul rested in him, and he knew Amaris for herself. All Mari could say for certain is that she had him hooked in that moment.

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Odysseus meant to take her in the Temple, before all the soldiers assembled. It was a frightening yet thrilling proposition. For ten years they had met in secret: first, Amaris had snuck into his camp and come to him. Then, for several nights, she simply found a way to have the outward door of this temple accessible for him. Always they had been cautious, and so for those ten years none had suspected. Less and less they physically acted out of desire; more often, they talked until the sun threatened to reveal their meeting. Yet always they were tender- always they were caring.

Amaris had certainly been tired of secrecy, but this would be very different. Yet even in the fear of having these men watch, Amaris felt a new thrill: they had no need to fear being found.

"Can you do this?" Odysseus whispered into her ear.

Amaris thought for only a second before she snuggled in deeper, giving her permission. "What must be done, be done."

So Odysseus moved to the front of the room, attracting some attention from his fellow Greeks. "This is a priestess of Athena," he lied, looking into her eyes as he set her down on the floor. "She, like myself, is a servant of the wisdom in that goddess. Let her honor that wisdom in me now."

A few chuckles went from the men as Amaris pretended to struggle, succeeding only in getting upright a second before Odysseus began what to others seemed a cruel joke…

Moments later, it was over. Amaris was allowed a true cloth to cover herself, replacing her dressing gown that was sent into the hoards of soldiers too caught up in the victory to actually find Trojan women to please themselves with. Odysseus allowed her to take a seat in the corner, where she leaned as though dejected- though she delighted in the moment. That was the worst that would happen to her that night, she knew.

He had to find me first, Amaris realized. Had it been another man, the moment would have been much worse; she could have been truly enslaved, or raped. Instead, she was simply made to… perform. It had been unpleasant, but at least she could look past the crowd.

"Nobody else touch the girl," Odysseus ordered flatly as he gathered himself once again. "She still belongs to Athena."

A murmur of assented laughs rang through the hall as the king left, but Amaris was at least able to sleep against the wall in full knowledge that she was safe among the Greek men for the night.

THE NEXT DAY:

Amaris awoke to find a bundle of exhausted men surrounding her. Yet, at her very side, the noble Odysseus slept with an arm barely touching her calf in ownership. As she stirred, he moved with her and blinked himself awake. "I am sorry," he whispered. "I had to make the ownership as public as possible; I hope it was not overly horrid."

Amaris bent to kiss his cheek, and then his mouth, to show the lack of need for apology. "There is nothing to be ashamed of, King," she assured. "It was what had to be done for safety's sake."

"If I could," Odysseus murmured, "I would have you come with me. But Penelope…"

"You must care for your son," Mari finished without prompting. "I was fine on my own before the days of Troy; I shall continue to be fine after."

And Odysseus gestured to the door, past the sleeping men; his meaning was clear. Before another awoke, she must hurry to the shore. "Thank you," she whispered. "I shall never forget."

And Odysseus looked first to her, than a figure of Athena above. "Nor shall I," he assured. Then Amaris was on her feet, and running through the secret door on the side of the Temple.

It was many hours of hard trekking across beach and sand before Amaris sat down, exhausted. There she lay down in the heat of the sun and began to think…

"Amarie? Miriel?" And she shot up, looking around for the source of her true name.

Coming up the dunes was a fair thing indeed: Prince Paris, alone with only a few arrows, running toward her.

"I thought you dead," he whispered, a hand on her shoulder.

"And I you," Mari replied. "But why do you call the name Miriel?" Paris shrugged, and again Mari looked into his face to see the elven prince of old. "That will do for an answer," she replied, taking his hand. "Walk with me?