Mae govannen, my readers!

I am deeply sorry for the lack of updates. My life has been hectic for the last few months, and more immediate matters required my attention.

I want to tell you I haven't forgotten you, and that each and every review was read with care, even as they reminded me I needed to update this story.

To make up for the long wait, I give to you the full third chapter of my story. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as the other ones.

Without further ado...

Namarië,

Lauré :)

CHAPTER 3 – THE RING GOES SOUTH
Laurethiel, sitting upon her bed, was slowly coming to realise the extent of the burden she had placed upon her shoulders in the Council hall, when a knock was heard in direction of the doorway. Raising her head, she saw Arwen there.

"I am not bothering you?" she asked, as she came in with a long cloth-covered item.

"No," Laurethiel answered, then added, "but I was wondering if I made the right decision. For this is no small goal I have set before myself. Is it beyond my abilities? Should I really go on the Fellowship's quest?"

"This is only for you to determine, my friend," Arwen said. "But I can give you one thing that will most surely help you in your journey," she added, taking out the bundle she had entered with.

She unwrapped the cloth covering it to reveal a very finely crafted bow made of the most delicate wood ingraved with gold filigree.

"I would like to give you this, Laurethiel of Mirkwood. It is my mother's bow, made of the wood of the Lothlorien forest. She gave it to me when she went into the West, hoping it would be again of some use here in Middle-Earth, as she would not need it in the Undying Lands. I pray that you would accept this gift, as I would rest easier knowing you had this weapon to defend yourself with. I have oft used it, and I know its aim is true and its range longer than the bows from your home forest."

"I cannot," Laurethiel answered. "It is too precious a gift for you to part with."

"I will have less need of it than you, protected as I will be amongst my father's people. But you will need it, wandering as you will be in the wilderness. Do accept it, if only for my own peace of mind."

Laurethiel smiled. "I will accept it then." And she took the bow, examining the master craftsmanship of the handle, and appreciating the weapon's wonderful balance.

"But there is more I must ask of you," Arwen said. "I must ask of you to watch my Estel for me. Promise me you will watch out for him, for I fear much for his life in this Quest he has set before him. Promise me that you will help our Hope to survive this great test. For I have given my heart to Aragorn, and I could not bear any ill happening to him."

Laurethiel looked in her friend's eyes and saw the anguish there, the concern for her beloved's uncertain fate. And could not help but promise her friend what she asked.

"If I can protect Aragorn," she said, "I shall do it. You have my promise that whenever he will be in my sight, I shall see that he is kept safe, at least as much as the circumstances might allow it. I cannot promise you more, but neither will I promise you less."

"That is all I ever asked of you, Lotwen," Arwen replied.

And the two friends embraced each other, seeking both some comfort in light of the troubled times to come.

Some time later, as Laurethiel was preparing her gear for the trying times set before her, her brother arrived in her room.

"I do hope you know what it is exactly that you are doing, Lotwen."

Laurethiel rose her eyes to look squarely at Legolas. "And what would you have me do? Would you have me stand aside and let the Shadow grow in the East? Would you have me stay here as you go, possibly never to come back?" Before he had the time to reply, she went on.

"No brother. Those are things I cannot do, even as I know Father intended for me to stay here with Lord Elrond. I cannot run, hide, nor ignore the pending doom looming upon Middle-Earth. I do not have the Evenstar's patience and fortitude, to stay behind as things happen."

Legolas looked concerned. "But what if something happens to you? I could not live with myself if some ill befell you on this journey. What if..."

Laurethiel cut her brother short. "No, Legolas, don't. Those are only suppositions. You cannot change my mind, brother. I will go. I will not stand idle and do nothing. I will help, if only in a small way."

"I see you are resolute," Legolas conceded with a sigh. "But that does not mean I have to like it."

"No, it doesn't," she spat back.

His mouth curled in a thin smile. "You know I could never refuse you anything, Lotwen."

"And I love you all the more for it. Besides, how many times did I ever ask for something that was not reasonable?"

"Oh, I do not know. But I most certainly could come up with a few examples," he said, his eyebrows raised, a mischievous look creeping on his face.

"Don't you dare," she challenged. "Would you instead help me pack this wretched bag?" she asked, an adorably embarassed smile gracing her face.

Legolas grinned. What would he do without his sister to liven up his life? Nothing worth one of those smiles of her, he thought, shaking his head and walking to rescue her from her predicament.

The matter of the Quest was most urgent, however, and soon all members of the Fellowship were standing before Lord Elrond as he bade them his last farewell.

"The Ringbearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him, no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will."

There was some amount of protest from Gimli's part, as he deemed that an oath could serve to remind one of one's duty, but he soon realised Lord Elrond's intent as it was explained to him that such a reminder could quickly become a burden.

"Farewell," Lord Elrond continued. "Hold to your purpose," he said, looking at each Fellowship member in turn. It seemed to Laurethiel that his eyes had a small twinkle when they set themselves upon her, and she felt bolstered by this small mark of encouragement.

"May the blessings of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you," he concluded.

Boromir had heard Lord Elrond, and he understood the need for secrecy in this Quest. Yet it would not be said that Gondor went on this journey through the back door.

Bringing his horn to his lips, he let out two resounding notes.

As every being around swiftly runed their heads towards him, he explained himself. "Though I pray the Horn of Gondor shall not be heard in this travel, let it not be said that Boromir son of Denethor was too much a coward to announce his departure to all in Rivendell. The Sons of Gondor have never gone to war without first blowing in this Horn."

Privately, Laurethiel found such a behaviour to be arrogant, childish and pompous, but she knew it wasn't her place to comment on such an action.

Gandalf, however, wasn't hindered by such protocol. Clearing his throat, he said, "The Fellowship awaits the Ringbearer."

Frodo slowly made his way to the Gate of Imladris, and paused for a moment before heading left on the road.

Before going through the Gate of Imladris, Laurethiel's resolve faltered as she was suddenly acutely conscious that this was her last chance to back off from this Quest. For a fraction of a second, she was indeed much tempted to do so. But at the same time, she knew she would not find her rest if she did as her father would have her do.

With a determined stride, she set out of Imladris.

As she crossed the Gate after her brother, Laurethiel didn't notice Aragorn and Arwen exchange one last look of longing before finally going on their separate ways.

The beginning of the Fellowship's quest was quite simple and straightforward. They had to hold a course West of the Misty Mountains for forty days, and then cross the Gap of Rohan to go Eastward in Mordor's general direction.

In this first leg of their journey, Laurethiel had ample opportunity to ponder the audacity of her move. She knew her father had intended for her to stay in Imladris with Arwen, and she knew she had disobeyed greatly. But she hadn't been able to help herself. Better than watch the action from afar, she had prefered to be actually doing something about it, at the price of her life if the occasion should arise. If the fate of Middle-Earth was to indeed fall under the Dark Lord's clutches, she would at least have the satisfaction of having done something to prevent it from happening.

Nevertheless, she could not help but wonder why she had ever thought of joining the Fellowship. For no one, least of all Gandalf, paid any attention to the fact that she was a young lady. She had to walk as fast as anyone present, and show as much strenght and resilience to the hardships everyone endured. And the advantages of being an Elf did not truly help, because she obviously could not feel any difference, having been an Elf all of her immortal life. So any difficulties encountered were difficulties for her, too, even if they seemed to bother her less than her short-legged friends.

As they stopped for the night's rest, Laurethiel unpacked her few belongings, setting her bedroll near the fire Aragorn was starting, attempting to make her bed the most comfortable she could. Again, she marveled at how familiar the Hobbits were with Aragorn, chatting away as they waited for the fire to go to a reasonable heat to make some basic cooking. As far as she was concerned, "Strider" would always be "My Lord", "Your Highness", sometimes "Aragorn", and even fewer times his childhood nickname of "Estel", which meant "hope" in Elvish. After all, she was older than him, and could therefore allow herself to consider him like a melancholic little cousin, even if she did so only in the privacy of her own thoughts.

And she marveled that the heir to such a great kingdom would consent to lower himself to such menial tasks as starting a fire. Why, Boromir, being the Man's future Steward, should take upon himself to make his lord comfortable. Yet he seemed hard-pressed to make any such advances towards his liege. Laurethiel frowned at this, but quickly set the thought aside as she was presented with the evening's meal.

Said meal was very frugal, sufficient enough to fill one's belly, yet reduced to the very strict minimum in prevention of future necessities. They discussed of the arrangements for the night's watches, and it was established that they could allow Laurethiel the courteous gesture of taking the last watch with Gandalf, as she seemed a bit tired from this first day's exertions. Aragorn and Boromir would take the first watch, with Legolas and Gimli taking the second one, the latter having declared that he "wanted to keep an eye on this distrustful Elf." The Hobbits, they thought, could as well sleep the whole night through, being less accustomed to demanding travel.

Laurethiel went to her bedroll, set conveniently close to the fire so that she would not wake up starled by the cold. She knew such comforts might be taken away in a second, and set herself to enjoy them when she could. Following that train of thought, she decided to allow herself a full sleep, for the Elves could doze almost anywhere, at anytime, simply retreating into a restful mental place while going on with their activities, in what Men would call sleepwalking. But what Laurethiel nedded, now, was to replenish her strenght in view of restless times to come, and so she laid down on her blanket, letting her eyes glaze over in Elven sleep .

While she peacefully settled into a deep slumber, she failed to notice a pair of eyes trained on her.

For Boromir had been watching her for quite a while, and while he silently sat by Aragorn, he kept wondering what in Middle-Earth the Elf could have been thinking, going on the Quest of the Fellowship.

When he had entered the Council chamber what seemed ages ago already, he had not recognized her at first, so different was she from the Elf-maiden he had seen in the Great Hall. Gone were any jewelry in her long hair, styled in tight braids that kept it away from her face and underlined her fine jaw and pointed ears. Her attire had been different, too. Whereas at the feast she had worn a dress woven of the finest thread, at the Council, she had been wearing her sturdy travel clothing, making her look not unlike so many of her kin, so similar to Legolas Boromir had at first mistaken her for a male.

It was only when she had spoken that he had known her gender, and had been taken aback by her courageous commitment. And in his heart he was incensed against Sauron, that he could make such a fragile-looking female take on a path many men would have been afraid even to consider.

At the farewell ceremony, he had been able to recognise the subtle differences between her clothing and Greenleaf's. Her leggings were tighter on her, and her outer wear consisted in a closely fitted bodice flaring out in a calf-length skirt, slitted in the front for more practicality, keeping her lower body warm so she only needed a short cloak to put on her shoulders.

He had admired from afar how her clothing had complimented her lithe figure, and steadfastly refused to analyse why he had been so relieved that Greenleaf was only her brother. Those were thought better left alone. At least for the moment.

His watch went on, without anything else to signal. But he knew the Enemy would not leave them alone, not for long. For the Ring was here, just by Boromir's side, just within his reach. And Boromir could not help but wonder what powers were hidden in this ring, that so small a thing would cause such turmoil.

Laurethiel woke with a start when she felt someone poking her shoulder. With lightning reflexes, she unsheated her small dagger to put it below the offender's throat. But relaxed instantly when she realised it was none other than Legolas.

She grinned at her brother, and any observer who was not apprised of Elvish customs would have found the interaction between brother and sister to be vastly un-Elvish and ungraceful. Yet Gandalf, observing the scene from afar, knew that the Elves let their offspring take liberties a Human child would only dream of: too soon would their unlimited span of life instil in them the necessary wisdom and flawless bearing of their race, and the elder Elves had long since decided to allow their children at least this small time of complete and unadulterated freedom. And as siblings were oft wont to do, the Prince and Princess fell back to more relaxed life patterns when alone.

"At least I know you are still sharp," the Mirkwood Prince said to his sister, taking it with his customary good humour. "Our Captain has thaught you well."

"Brother! You! You are lucky I have a watch turn to do, or else..." she said, pointing a menacing finger at him.

"I know," he answered. "But as you just pointed out, Gandalf's waiting. So up you go, and do not miss anything!"

She saw her brother settle in a restful nap, and went to sit companionably beside Gandalf, shaking herself awake with a sip of clear water and a bite of bread.

"So," the wisened old man said, after a few moments. "What brings such a fine lady as you are on such a terrible adventure?"

Gandalf saw that she was obviously taken aback by the question, not having excpected it at all, and was very much pleased when Laurethiel took sometime to think it through before answering. For self-assessment was the begining of wisdom.

Keeping her eyes and ears open for strange things, she said, "To do something, I guess."

"Oh!" the wizard replied, raising his eyebrows. "And what is that?"

"As it happens," Laurethiel continued, "I understand that Sauron has unleashed all his might to find the One Ring again. And in my heart, I knew I had to do something to help stop his plans, even if it might not be much in the great scheme of things. Even as I know my father intended for me to stay safe in Imladris with Arwen, I also know that the waiting would have been unbearable, especially with my brother going. I do not have Undomiel's unrelenting patience, and I am not really known to stay in the same place for long."

Gandalf sensed that there was another reason for her to go with the Fellowship. "Is that all, truly?" he added.

Laurethiel felt that Gandalf would not let go until he would have received a satisfactory answer. Trying not to sound overly foolish, she said, "No. It is not all.

"It has been sometime yet that I have been troubled with unsettling visions, happening either when I am asleep or awake. They come and go, elusive, but they have all a common theme: destruction. I them, I see the Armies of Sauron taking over Middle-Earth, swallowing it whole and leaving only ruin in their wake... The Magic Wardens in Mirkwood have tried to help me master those visions, but to no avail, and it was the hope of my father that Lord Elrond, as one who possessed the Sight, would be able to give me some guidance in that respect.

"When I was at Lord Elrond's Council, I had one of these visions as I heard you say the words in Black Speech, and I knew I could not stay in Imladris. For there are some things I cannot do. And I could not let the moment pass and do nothing to stop Mordor's armies.

"This is why I am here, hoping I made the right decision, and hoping I will not regret it."

Gandalf had a thoughtful expression for a while, and after a moment reached a decision of his own. "Well," he began, "I suppose I could help you."

Surprised, Laurethiel turned her head and shot a questioning glance at Gandalf.

"Yes, I could help you," the wizard said with a forceful nod. "I may not be Lord Elrond, but it so happens that I do know some extent of magic lore. I could teach you how to harness your visions, and how to channel your magical abilities. After all, I am one of the Istari, and therefore quite apt to teach you what you have to know."

And so it was that Laurethiel's magic training began, under the close scrutiny of Gandalf. And after her first lesson, when it was time to go on southwards, it was established that the current watch turns were a good pattern, and they decided to keep it that way, at least for the moment.

Many days passed in this fashion, as they relentlessly marched on with iron determination and fresh courage and enthusiasm, wanting their mission to be as quick and painless as possible for all present. Even if they knew Mordor would not leave them be. Because, as daunting as the task set before them would be, it had to be done.

If the Enemy had not caught on their scent yet, well, it was his problem and his alone. And they would be daft not to take advantage of the opportunity to make a good use of their unhindered path.

Most unfortunately, their luck was not meant to last longer than it should.

But, as yet unaware of the approaching shadow, they made the most of the few breaks they allowed themselves. Boromir and Aragorn decided to make swordsmen yet out of the Halflings, teaching the Hobbits some skills with the blade and polishing the few already acquired. Laurethiel's time was divided between sharpening her reflexes with her brother and learning to master her latent magic powers under Gandalf's close tutelage. Gimli mostly kept to himself, practising swinging his axe, and attempting not to destroy too many things in the process.

Thus it was that they reached a ruin on a plateau at the foot of the Misty Mountains west of Eregion, in the land of Hollin.

They stopped, and – again – the Hobbits dedicated themselves to this most favourite hobby of them: cooking. For it seemed the Hobbits couldn't dream of parting with their cooking gear, even after the sore reminder of the tragic events of the Amon Sul watchtower, in which the Ringbearer had been nearly mortally wounded by a Morgul blade. Indeed, uncooked food amounted to them as nothing short of a very disastrous and disheartening thought. And real, hot food was a commodity they weren't quite ready to part with as of yet.

As Sam helped himself to some recently cooked sausages, Laurethiel took a pause from her own learning to watch Boromir teach Merry and Pippin more swordplay.

"Two, one, five," he shouted, indicating in which fencing position his apprentices should place themselves, initiating a slow attack of his own. As they almost flawlessly moved their weapons, he did not hesitate in complimenting them: "Good! Very good."

But Aragorn, his eye ever sharp, did see a flaw in their movements. "Move your feet," he told them, between two whisps of smoke.

And they repeated the motion again.

Laurethiel continued to watch them with a smile in her heart, as the Hobbits sought to master the not quite familiar art of swordwielding.

However, her smile soon reached her face when, very proudly, she heard Merry declare, "You look good, Pippin!"

As he heard Pippin thank his fellow Hobbit, Boromir thought, You think you look good, don't you, master Peregrin. You really think you are improving. Well, let's see what you've really got under this jacket of yours.

With a challenging grin, he quite suddenly urged them to go faster, and launched himself in a quick succession of attacks, hacking down on the poor Pippin, quite taken aback by the sudden fierceness of the Gondorian's moves.

He was pressed ever backwards until Boromir, not quite used to dealing with beings so… vertically challenged, hit him with the flat of his sword. With a small cry, the Hobbit fell.

Boromir looked down, making sure this lesson was learnt. Satisfied, he said, "Sorry," and extended his hand to help Pippin back up.

Not allowing for the fact that he was defeated, Pippin said to Merry, "Get him!"

Catching Boromir completely unawares, and screaming "For the Shire!" the Hobbits seized the proferred arm and pulled with all their might.

And Boromir was soon caught in a friendly fight. Aragorn came to them, sternly saying "Gentlemen, that's enough," but the Hobbits grabbed his legs, and he soon joined them in a bout of friendly mayhem. Children, the lot of them, thought Laurethiel. Yet at the same time she couldn't help but notice how transformed Boromir's face was when he laughed. Gone were the worries dreadfully sitting on his brow, and his eyes twinkled with unchecked happiness. Why, Laurethiel asked herself, why, by the Valar, why does not the confounded Man smile more?

However, her musings were soon interrupted by a worrisome Samwise Gamgee. Indeed, he of all people had noticed a strange cloud hovering in the south skies.

"What is that?" he asked, a dubitative edge to his voice.

"Nothing," Gimli answered. "It's just a wisp of cloud."

Laurethiel looked in the direction of the disturbance, and knew it was not a cloud. Elven eyesight was far better that that of Dwarves, and she saw strange edges to this dark form, too definite and moving too quickly for it to be only submitted to the whims of the wind.

At her side, Boromir had lost all pretense to play, and a veil of seriousness had fallen back upon his face. With a tight voice, he observed, "It's moving fast." After a second of closer scrutiny, he added the confirmation that this definitively wasn't a natural phenomenon.

"And against the wind," he said.

Legolas's sharp eyes were the first to identify the cause of such abnormal behaviour. With a sense of dread going down his spine, he exclaimed, "Crebain form Duneland!" he eclaimed, naming the spies of Saruman.

Aragorn reacted swiftly. Urgently, he ordered all around to "HIDE!" as quickly as they could.

Boromir grabbed Merry, Aragorn took charge of Frodo, Sam put out the fire and all went to conceal themselves in cracks of rock.

Laurethiel was huddled close to her brother, her hands over her ears as she tried to stiffle the creatures' soul-ripping cries.

It seemed forever until they went away back to their master.

"Spies of Saruman," Gandalf said, confirming Laurethiel's deepest fears. "The passage south is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras," he said, turning himself towards the Misty Mountains.

The trek up the Caradhras was no small feat, Laurethiel soon determined. If not for her mithril determination and the promise she had made to Arwen, the Princess of Mirkwood would have sorely been tempted to abandon this Quest and go back to Imladris. But she had set this task before herself, and would not stop until she saw the Ring plumetting down in the Chasm of the Orodruin.

She had been a ways back behind Frodo, when she saw the Hobbit loose his footing, and come tumbling down till he met with Aragorn's feet. Frantically, he searched his neck for the Ring, and began to panick when he didn't find It.

Up ahead, Boromir found it in the snow. Laurethiel watched, helpless, as she saw his eyes look strangely at the Ring. Not heeding Aragorn's cry of "Boromir!", the son of Denethor said with an eerily even tone, "It is strange that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing. Such a little thing," he added in seeming wonder, his left hand going up to close around the Ring.

"Boromir!" Aragorn said again. "Give back the Ring to Frodo."

Boromir locked his gaze with Aragorn's for a split secont, and his eyes focused back to the present. Looking as if he was shaking himself from a trance, he said, "As you wish."

As he gave back the Ring to its Bearer, he ruffled Frodo's hair and said, "I care not."

But it seemed to Laurethiel that he sought more to convince himself than anyone else. And her heart was dearly saddened for it.

Their progress, apart from that incident, was steady.

Yet, the nearer they got to the Pass of the Red Horn, the worse the weather conditions got, until it was with some difficulty that they could advance in the snow ever piling up more before them.

The wind was blowing so harshly that Laurethiel almost didn't hear her brother say with great suspicion, "There is a fell voice in the air."

All stopped, and they could clearly hear a deep voice reverberating itself in the echoes of the mountain.

Gandalf knew that voice well, and soon recognised it. "It's Saruman!" he said.

Aragorn understood the White Wizard's intent. "He's trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf, we must turn back!"

"No!" Gandalf woudn't be deterred. Stepping up, he chanted, "Losto Carhadras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i 'ruith!" Sleep well, Red Horn, be still, lie still, hold your wrath!

But Saruman was determined to have the last word on this matter. As soon as Gandalf had attempted his spell, a powerful voice was heard in the gorges of the Red Horn, so powerful Laurethiel shivered, and she knew it was not from the cold, as Elves are bothered by neither cold nor heat.

"Cuiva nwalca Carnirassë! Nai yarvaxëa rasselya taltuva ñotto-carrinar!" Wake up cruel Redhorn! May your blood-stained horn fall upon the enemy heads!

A bolt of lightning came crashing down just above their heads, an enormous chunk of snow detached itself from the mountain's side to bore down on the ten comapnions, and the members of the Fellowship only had time to fling themselves on the rock wall behind them, ere they fell down the cliff, taken by the snow.

Laurethiel emerged from the snow piled atop of her, brushing off any excess. And most of all, trying to clean her neck: she did not want to have snow melting down her spine. The fact that Elves were not affected by the cold was irrelevant at that point, as Elves were most definitively able to feel clammy wetness.

Looking around her to see if anyone needed her aid, she noticed Boromir trying to get the Hobbits out of the snow. Walking over, she helped him unburden himself, then offered her hand to help him get out of this freezing nightmare.

For one split second, Boromir thought of refusing the proffered hand. He was perfectly able to pull himself out, thank you! But then, how do you say no to a lady? To a lady-Elf, at that? As much as Boromir was proud, he did not see how his honor would be insulted if he was courteous enough to accept a lady's help.

With a nod, Boromir took Laurethiel's hand.

Boromir was almost out of his predicament when Laurethiel felt her feet beginning to slip. She tried to regain her balance while the Gondor Captain finished climbing out of the snow. For Elves never disgraced themselves with such unappropriate movements as slipping.

Nevertheless, she slipped.

Right into Boromir's arms.

She felt a rumble start in the Man's chest, a rumble that amplified until the Captain of Gondor suddenly burst out laughing, throwing his head back and displaying his powerful neck.

Laurethiel was incensed. The Man actually dared to laugh!

She looked squarely at him, fully ready to have Boromir stop this instant. And caught the mirth in his eyes.

It was a look of such unadulterated joy that Laurethiel felt her anger melt like so much snow in the sun, and quickly found herself adding her chime-like laugh to Boromir's own deep chuckle.

Their combined laughter echoed in the frosty air of the Misty Mountains, like a challenging cry against all Evil.

And for the first time, Boromir really saw Laurethiel.

Her smile had completely transformed her face. It gave her an appearance of youthful carelesness, making her seem suddenly so much more alive, so much like the young woman she must be to her people. She looked like who she could have been, had not the Enemy come to put wordless worries on her brow. It made Boromir all the more determined to draw Sauron from this land once and for all so that all maids in Middle-Earth might enjoy many more such moments of pure happiness.

Laurethiel noticed Boromir's mouth curl, noticed the shift of emotion in his eyes, the way his grey irises took a stormy quality. And quite suddenly, she felt trapped in the Gondorian's arms, not really knowing what to do to get out of Boromir's grasp, obviously not having been in such a position before, but not really daring to upset the Man's volatile temper.

Until her common sense came back to her.

She maintained a firm grip of Boromir while she slowly disengaged herself from the Gondorian's embrace, making them return to the matter at hand. After all, she was quite steady now. Or was she?

Now was not the time to ask herself questions, she admonished herself. They first had to find another way to go around the Misty Mountains before she could allow herself the luxury of introspection.

Boromir, also bringing his attention back to where it should be, exclaimed, "The Hobbits will not last much longer. We must get off the mountain!"

Laurethiel looked at him with an amused look. Could he say something that wasn't so obvious? Propose another path, maybe?

As if answering her, Boromir quickly added, "We must make for the Gap of Rohan! Or take the west road to my city!"

Aragorn turned his head in Boromir's direction, feeling in his heart that the Ring was already making its way in Boromir's soul. It had chosen well, he tought cynically. Boromir wanted so much to do what was right. So much that if the son of Denethor was not careful, he might just end up doing the very opposite of his intent. Countering Boromir's offer, he said, "The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard."

To himself, he added, And I will never bring Isildur's Bane any closer to Minas Tirith than I have to. I will not have history repeat itself again. Men will not get closer to the Ring than they must if I can do anything about it.

Gimli, seeing very well this was going nowhere near a solution, thought of the Mines of Khazad-Dûm. Ah! to see fellow Dwarves again! To be able to rest in friendly surroundings!

"If we cannot pass over a mountain, let us go under it!" he said. "Let us go through the Mines of Moria!"

Gandalf felt an icy shiver run down his spine at the mention of this doomed name, a shiver he knew had nothing to do with the freezing cold of the mountain. He heard Saruman's voice echo in his head. Moria. You fear to go into those mines. The Dwarves dwelved too greedily and too deep. You know what they awoke there in the darkness of Khazad-Dûm. Shadow. And flame.

Closing his eyes to master his dread, he opened them and declared, "Let the Ringbearer decide..."

Boromir reminded them of the urgency of their decision. "We cannot stay here!" he said. "This will be the death of the Hobbits!" And indeed, when Laurethiel looked down at Merry and Pippin, she noticed they truly were in dire need of a good fire. Or some more agreeable weather, at the very least.

Looking deep in the Hobbit's eyes, Gandalf asked, "Frodo?"

Feeling the weight of such a decision, Frodo took a moment to think about it. Agreeing with Aragorn, he did not think it wise to bring the Ring closer to Isengard than absolutely necesary. And while he did not like mines anymore than any normal Hobbit should - for they were dark and chilly places - he liked the idea of going to Minas Tirith even less. If Boromir was any representative of the Men there, then his quest would soon come to an end if the Ring was ever seen in the White City.

Choosing the lesser of two evils, he said, "We will go through the Mines."

The Ainur had decided, Gandalf thought. With a resigned but calm voice, he said those sealing words, "So be it."