A/N: thank you to those of you who have commented! Also ok, if you haven't picked up on it yet, this story does involve some mature themes concerning mental health. I try not to make it like, TOO dark or depressing but it IS a reoccurring theme/element bc it is important to Adrienne's story and character. This chapter addresses the topic of self-harm. So just a warning. BUT not to worry bc there will also be lots of fluff and humor and healing to balance it out! :)

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Chapter 4: would you pay the price? would you give your life?

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"Fuck, this is good. It's like there's a party in my mouth," Adrienne says as she shovels food in her mouth while the fellowship is gathered for dinner the following day. "Seriously, Sam, you're a great cook."

A blush spreads across the hobbit's face, from her obscenity or her compliment, she can't tell. Probably both. "Thank you, Lady Adrienne," he says quietly.

She hides a smile; compared to the other hobbits, Sam doesn't seem to talk very much–second in quietness only to Frodo–and she enjoys seeing him slowly warm up to her.

"No need to thank me, dude, it's the truth." She looks over at Frodo and he nods in agreement. "You know, I thought you guys wouldn't have any good seasonings or anything and all the food would be bland, but you're proving me wrong."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Sam replies ruefully. "I have seasonings and ingredients available to me here in Lórien, but once we're on the road, our access to such luxuries will be very limited."

"So what I'm hearing is I've got to eat my own body weight in food while I can," she concludes with a nod. "Understood,"

Pippin leans over to Merry. "I think I like this girl," he whispers.

Adrienne grins, having heard him anyway. "I know, I know. It's easy to fall in love with me. Don't be alarmed; it happens all the time," she jokes.

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a very sought-after girl; in high demand, all that."

"So you have many suitors then? Are you not married, or betrothed at least?"

She almost chokes on the delicious food in her mouth. She should've known better than to lead the conversation in this direction. "Um, no. I'm not really, uh, looking for something like that."

"For what? Love?"

She shifts, suddenly feeling the heat of discomfort, but she refuses to let her cool demeanor falter. "It's just not something that interests me right now," she says with a shrug, "at least not anymore. Y'know, being in a committed relationship and all that. I don't think it's for me."

Boromir rolls his eyes and speaks up for the first time throughout their whole meal. "So you're saying you're a harlot? Just come right out and say it. From what I heard you were wearing when you arrived here, it doesn't sound like you try to hide it anyway. Not to mention your crass language."

"From what I was–" she whirls around to face the five people who were present at Galadriel's mirror with her on that fateful night. "You guys were gossiping about what I was wearing that night? What the hell?"

She looks at each one individually, but they all avoid eye contact with her. At the very least, they have the decency to look ashamed.

She raises her eyebrows and lets out an annoyed scoff. She's aware the cultural differences are vast, and that in these standards she's far from a modest woman, but really? Her outfit hadn't been that bad, even with the (small!) strip of bare midriff. "Wow, okay."

Jerks, the lot of 'em.

"There's a lot to unpack here, so let me cut it down to the basics. One," she says, holding up a finger to represent the number, "I do not appreciate being called a whore, jeez. Two, you guys are just waaaay too close-minded and prudish in this time period for your own good. Seriously, it's not a good look to be so judgemental. And three, I'm not anti-love or anything. I just haven't been interested in it because I have more important things going on in my life."

"What's more important than love?" Sam asks with a frown.

The other hobbits chorus their same sentiment.

"I just mean that I have other priorities at this time in my life," she adds to her defense.

"Well I for one think it's understandable," Legolas pipes up in agreement. "Sensible, even."

Everyone's ears seem to perk up at the elf's input as they turn their attention to him in interest.

By now, Adrienne has gathered that he is another member of the fellowship that doesn't speak as much as the others, so naturally, when he does do so people tend to listen.

Boromir, however, isn't amused. "You know, that doesn't mean much coming from you," he says.

Legolas narrows his eyes at him. "And what do you mean by saying that?"

He scoffs. "Oh, perhaps the fact that you are over two thousand years old and have shown nearly no interest in women."

"Did you just say two thousand years old?" Adrienne chokes out, but she's ignored as the conversation changes direction.

"You know not of my personal life."

"No, but Aragorn does."

Legolas turns to Aragorn, giving him puppy dog eyes questioning betrayal while the other man suddenly finds a nearby tree very interesting. "You told him my business?"

"More like the lack of it, Master Elf," Gimli points out, earning snickers from the hobbits.

Legolas' glare silences them in an instant.

"It was merely idle talk, nothing more," Aragorn explains himself, and it's obvious Boromir had taken his words out of context. "It came up in conversation and I had no reason to believe he would use it against you."

"You say that as if I am an antagonist here," Boromir complains.

"At the moment, you kind of are," Adrienne points out.

He gives her a withering glare. "And you are an obnoxious, unrefined girl."

"Take a look in the mirror, dude. You're acting like a boor–oh wait, it's in your name. How fitting."

Gimli guffaws at the comeback.

"I don't need to hear this, especially not from some girl who clearly doesn't belong here," Boromir replies, and Adrienne doesn't let the effect his words have on her show as she manages to hold his gaze. "Aragorn, come spar with me. I need to hit something."

The Dúnedain man looks a bit reluctant but follows after him. In his wake, he leaves a tense silence.

For most of them, that is. Gimli appears to be amused more than anything else.

The dwarf slaps his knees and stands up. "Well that was mighty entertaining, but now that it's over I'm going for a nap."

"Yes, I think we're going to go cool off in the stream," Merry says as the other hobbits rise as well.

On their way past Adrienne, they all offer her sympathetic looks. Pippin stops on his way out to share some kind words. "Try not to let what he said get to you."

She smiles appreciatively. "Thanks Pippin, I won't."

With the leave of the hobbits, Adrienne is left alone with Legolas. If she doesn't say something right now who knows how long the stretch of silence will go for. "Hey, uh, thanks for backing me up, sorta. Even if it meant you caught the tail-end of his smack-talking. I didn't mean for you to get dragged into it."

"The man's words mean little to me," he says nonchalantly in a way that only a two-thousand-plus-year-old person can. When you reach a certain age, that sort of stuff surely doesn't bother you anymore. He looks over at the way she nods but keeps her eyes on her lap as she fiddles with the rings adorning her fingers. "Lady Adrienne-" he starts to say, probably to tell her something similar to what Pippin had.

"Please don't call me that," she cuts him off, not rudely, just…tiredly. She's so tired, and not from lack of sleep.

His brows furrow in confusion. How had he offended her? "Call you what?"

"Lady," she answers. "Around here it might be the standard to address women like that, but to me it just sounds weird and makes me feel out of place with myself. I'm not a 'Lady', I'm just Adrienne."

He nods slowly. "Ah. Very well then."

"But I don't have to tell you that, considering your guys' reactions to my clothes."

His expression turns apologetic. "If it is any consolation, I can assure you that the conversation concerning your clothing was not in regard to your morality. We are above such petty gossip. The others were merely curious about you, and your clothing style was unlike anything we had seen before. That's all."

The corner of her lips twitches upward. "Alright, I'll take your word on it."

He watches her, sensing the need for a change of topic. "But I can certainly understand the wish for others to not focus on titles when conversing with you."

She cocks her head to the side. "Like how Gimli calls you 'Master Elf'?" she asks with a wry grin.

He snorts uncharacteristically. From what she's gathered, the two of them don't get along very well. There seem to be some cultural tensions. "Aye, there is that example. But it goes beyond that," he eyes her as if contemplating relaying the information, but sensing she's eager to talk about something to distract her from the negative interaction from a few minutes ago, he relents. "Most people use even higher titles for me."

Adrienne raises her eyebrows. Consider my interest piqued, she thinks. "Oh? You gonna elaborate on that or am I gonna have to force it out of you?"

A soft laugh escapes his lips at her meager threat. "Force is not necessary, though I must admit that it is something I don't like to bring attention to often."

"Go on."

He smirks at her obvious intrigue. She seems to enjoy getting invested in things; it's rather endearing to watch.

"People tend to refer to me as Legolas Thranduilian or Prince Legolas."

Her eyebrows jump to her hairline and her mouth opens in a wide smile. "Holy shit. So you're an actual prince? Deadass?"

"I beg your pardon? Did you just call me a dead–?"

"Oh no, sorry. Deadass is just another way of saying like, 'no kidding' or 'I'm completely serious.'"

"Oh, I see. No, I am quite serious. My father is King Thranduil, hence the name Legolas Thranduilian."

"No way," she says, highly amused. "That's so cool. I haven't really seen you interact with anyone outside of the fellowship yet, so I never noticed you being treated like royalty."

He gives a small shrug. "I don't care for it anyway. I would much rather be treated with respect because of my character than my title."

"Humble. I like it." She gives a short nod. "So, we have a prince in our little group of nine, who would have thought."

"Two actually."

"Two?" Her eyes bulge out of her head. "Who's the other one?"

"Aragorn," he answers, "to an extent. By that I mean he is the heir of Isildur and thus has the rightful claim to the throne of Gondor–the land Boromir is steward of–but it is all very complicated. I pray to soon see the day he takes his rightful place on the throne."

"Damn. All of this going on right under my nose and I had no idea."

"You have only just arrived, you have not had much time to learn the details of our lives." He pauses before continuing. "And, I must admit Aragorn's true identity is something he likes to keep somewhat quiet."

"Aw, and here you trusted me with it," she croons. "I'm flattered."

He shrugs once more. "Lady Galadriel trusts you, and more than that, the Valar do as well, apparently. That is more than enough reason for me to trust you as well, though it appears that is not the case for Boromir."

She gives a tight-lipped smile and looks away.

"I apologize, I should not have brought that up again."

She waves him off. "Nah, it's fine. I'm not one to take things too personally, it's just…when he made that comment that I don't belong here, it kind of struck a nerve. I…wasn't happy with my life back home and now that I'm here I thought that maybe…"

"This is your chance to belong somewhere?"

She nods almost abashedly. "Yeah. So obviously, when Boromir said that it kind of brought back those negative feelings and unlocked a new fear that I'm just…I don't know. Doomed to not fit in anywhere or in any time period." Letting out a laugh, she shakes her head at how dramatic she's being. "But that's kind of silly, huh?"

How embarrassing, sharing these insecurities with an ancient elf prince. She really needs to get a grip on herself.

"No, I think that's understandable," he reassures her. "But if I may offer some consolation, the forces that brought you here are far above the opinions of a man like Boromir."

"I sure hope they're right about me…"

"They're never wrong, of that, I can assure you. Which is why I am confident in saying that you belong here."

"Thanks, Legolas," she says, giving him a warm smile.

"Of course, my Lady."

"Ah, ah." She wags a finger at him good-naturedly.

"Oh right, my apologies. Just Adrienne."

"There we go. You don't call me Lady and I won't call you Prince." They fall into a comfortable silence for a few moments. "So tell me, do you think I'm obnoxious?" she asks, referring to Boromir's prior insult.

"Perhaps just a bit."

She stares at him levelly until he finally cracks the smallest of smiles so she knows he's teasing.

"Oh you're funny, elf boy. Real funny."

.。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・°

That evening, Aurëill comes to take Adrienne back to her flet, which has become routine the last couple of days.

Adrienne has to admit, she already enjoys and looks forward to her time with the girl, as little as it is. It's a nice break from the guys and she's grateful to have someone else to talk to (or complain) about them. They have polite conversation and catch up with each other.

"Have you been enjoying becoming acquainted with the fellowship?" the elleth asks, checking in.

Adrienne hums nonchalantly. "There's been a few hiccups but overall, yes. They all seem like great guys, it'll just take a bit to ease into the group. Joining the friend group late can be awkward, but I'm up to the challenge."

"And how has your training with Lord Aragorn been going?"

At the mention of it, Adrienne stretches her arms above her head as she walks, trying to ease out the soreness she's feeling already. "Another challenge. I'm no warrior; I haven't been in any battles like those other guys, so it's more rigorous than what I'm used to. But again, I can handle it."

Let's hope I can hold onto that attitude for when shit gets real.

That is, if I decide to help with this quest.

Aurëill smiles in encouragement. "I am glad to hear you are adjusting already."

She shrugs. "I've had to learn to adapt to new environments and periods of life and stuff. I think anyone can, actually. You'd be surprised what you're capable of when the situation arises." She frowns when Aurëill leads them in a different direction. "Wait, where are we going?"

"To the baths."

"Is that your way of telling me that I stink?"

The elleth giggles. "That was not my intention. Although it is true."

"Hey!"

"Did you not say you have been doing rigorous physical exercise?"

"Okay, fair."

The 'bathhouse' looks somewhat similar to what Adrienne imagines those of Ancient Greece and Rome were like. Well, except more woodsy, obviously.

There's a large pool which luckily is devoid of any elves at the moment. Adrienne figures they probably bathe in the morning.

Aurëill immediately reaches for the hem of Adrienne's tunic and starts to pull it up.

"Oh! Uh, okay," Adrienne says in surprise as the garment is pulled over her head. "We're doing this then."

She's left standing there in her underwear, which she's sure Aurëill would have stripped off as well if she had any idea how a 21st-century bra works. Instead, she just stares at Adrienne expectantly.

With a sigh, Adrienne removes the remaining articles of clothing. Feeling the elf's eyes on her hips and thighs, she quickly moves closer to the edge of the pool. "So can I just get in or–"

"You have scars," comes the blunt observation.

The muscle in Adrienne's jaw twitches. "Thanks for letting me know. I hadn't noticed."

"I thought you said you had not been in any battles before?"

"I haven't."

Not any physical ones.

"Did you get them from your martial arts class?" she questions, pronouncing the unfamiliar words a little funny.

"No," Adrienne responds shortly again, praying the girl will take the hint already.

"Then what gave you those injuries?"

She closes her eyes and sighs. No such luck. "Me," she answers, caving. "I did."

The elleth's brows furrow in confusion. "They are self-inflicted?"

"Yes."

Aurëill frowns as she tries to process this information. "Why?"

And what is she supposed to say to that? What is anyone supposed to say to that, to someone who has not known that struggle? There are simply no words to ever make them truly understand.

So she just shrugs. Simply shrugs. But she feels like she owes her somewhat of an explanation. The girl is just curious, and she's been nothing but kind to her. "I wasn't…happy. With my life. With myself."

It's just skimming the surface of the subject, really, but it's more than she usually offers people.

She chose less noticeable places to harm herself, favoring her hips and thighs over her wrists. But being sexually active means that people frequently saw her entire body, including those less noticeable places. On the unfortunate occasion that someone would choose to comment on it, she would try to laugh it off.

"Oh you know, we've all gone through an edgy phase, right? Too much tumblr." Was one of her favorite go-to's.

Which, in retrospect, was a mistake as it is the kind of thing that only reinforces negative stereotypes and stigmas. But what was she supposed to do? Process her trauma? Address the deterioration of her mental health?

Ha. Unlikely.

"To the point that you would cut your own flesh?" comes the next question, and Adrienne can hear the frown in the girl's voice, even as she avoids looking at her.

You don't know the half of it. I've wanted to do much more than that.

"Yes," she answers truthfully, her voice hollow.

An awkward silence follows as she waits for a response from the elf, who is surely absorbing her words. She assumes that self-harm is a foreign concept in elven culture, which, based on what she's seen so far, would not be surprising. And the settlement of Lothlórien appears to be pretty isolated, so it makes sense that such human concepts would be unheard of to Aurëill. And suddenly being exposed to it must be difficult to wrap her head around.

Just when Adrienne's about to give up and go ahead and get into the pool, Aurëill finally finds her voice, causing Adrienne to snap her head up and finally look at the girl.

"We all have things about ourselves or things that we have done of which we are not proud," she says slowly, her voice thoughtful and understanding. "But it's not our job to bring retribution upon ourselves."

Adrienne swallows hard, trying to digest the significance of the statement. She's never actually had a discussion about this subject with someone before, at least not one where she didn't brush it off, not even with Claire. So hearing someone's input to her directly is…a new experience, to say the least. And now she finds that she's the one who is unsure of how to respond.

"I am most sorry that you felt the need to do so," Aurëill continues, "and I pray that you never will again, for you deserve to feel pride and love for yourself, even despite your shortcomings."

And just like that, something Adrienne once felt she could never speak of, was spoken of, and it wasn't a terrible experience. In fact, it was somewhat nice.

.。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・°

Adrienne spends the majority of the next couple of days training with Aragorn. She mutters complaints about how excessive it is, but secretly she's grateful for the rigorous physical activity doubling as a distraction from her mind, because-as always-she knows if she dwells on everything that's happened, if she indulges those thoughts for too long or too deeply, she'll fall apart.

Okay, that and also the fact that she's glad for the physical aspects of getting a workout in since she can't go to the gym anymore.

She's also been enjoying Aragorn's company. Despite being a man of few words, his quiet confidence is a calming presence. And he's a rather good teacher if she's being honest. His sparing skills obviously challenge hers, which she welcomes.

Not that she'd tell him that or anything.

A part of it all reminds her of her 'brothers' that she used to have lightsaber duels with, especially Jesse. The older of the two boys, Jesse had been more of an older brother figure than Collin and he had always been the rational, grounding structure she so desperately needed. She even enjoys annoying Aragorn the way she did Jesse; incessantly bugging him with her comments and babbling whenever they have the chance, especially on the walk back to camp.

"I just think Doja Cat should've qualified for my 'most influential personalities' paper, you know?" She complains one late afternoon as they return from training. "I still don't know why my professor said I needed to take the assignment more seriously–I was taking it very seriously."

"I am never so glad as to when we arrive at camp," Aragorn says wearily, relief shining in his eyes as they approach the rest of the fellowship gathered around the fire.

She narrows her eyes. "Rude."

They walk up to the others just in time to hear Merry finish saying, "I'm sure Gandalf would've appreciated that."

"Who's Gandalf?" Adrienne asks casually.

Everyone immediately falls silent.

Deafeningly silent.

She looks around frantically. "What? What did I say?" She asks, only to be met with more silence as no one eagerly volunteers to explain.

Finally, Aragorn clears his throat and gives her a sympathetic look for the information he's about to deliver. "Gandalf was the ninth member, our leader, who died."

Oh.

Oh, Fuck.

Now why on earth hadn't Galadriel thought to mention that? When speaking to her she'd only referred to him as Mithrandir. It would've been helpful to know he also went by another name, one which was obviously used by his companions here. Then maybe she could have prevented an awkward situation like this one from arising.

"He is the irreplaceable person you are so pointlessly trying to replace," Boromir spits the unnecessary addition to Aragorn's answer.

"Boromir–" Aragorn starts.

I'm sick of this guy giving me shit.

"Hey man," Adrienne interjects. "I'm not trying to replace anyone."

"Aren't you? This fellowship was formed many months ago in Rivendell under the approval of Lord Elrond, and you, a powerless girl, are trying to casually join it now?"

"Yeah, because that's exactly what my plan was when I jumped into my university's fountain back home," she responds sarcastically. "Listen, I was pretty much taken here against my will and was told this is just what I should do now."

"Or that is just what you want us to think."

She laughs humorlessly. The audacity of this man. "Believe it or not, but I actually kind of wanted to get the degree I worked four years for, but my options are pretty limited right now. I might as well just go along with this thing at this point."

"And there it is. Once again, that attitude is precisely the reason I know you're not up to this task. This is not some leisurely trip. You have no idea what horrors await us. You cannot comprehend the true risks."

"That there's a good chance we all might die? Yeah, I kind of picked up on that. I wasn't too keen on living even before I came here, so I'm guessing that makes me the perfect candidate for a deadly quest."

"No. That is where you are mistaken, Lady Adrienne," Boromir says with deep conviction, "and it only confirms my previous statement. For this quest, you need the opposite of a death wish. You must have a reason to live; you must have every reason to live. You must have the overwhelming desire to protect this world and everyone's life in it, to see it become better. And if doing so comes at the price of your own life, then so be it. But not because you don't care to live; but because you care so much that everyone you love can live."

No one dares breathe a word as they watch the intense exchange with wide eyes, waiting to see what transpires as the two arguers stare each other down.

Adrienne glowers as Boromir steps closer, his voice low as he delivers the final blow. "Your lack of a will to live tells me everything I need to know about you. You are wandering aimlessly, without a purpose and it is not something to boast about."

Adrienne's composure finally cracks as she shrinks back, suddenly feeling vulnerable. Blinking back tears, she tries to recover as she straightens up and sets her jaw in defiance. "Fuck. You."

He scoffs sarcastically. "Oh yes, if you continue speaking that way, then we'll surely come to respect you."

With an enraged shriek, she lunges at him only for Legolas to jump up and hold her back while Aragorn inserts himself between her and Boromir.

"Enough of this! Both of you."

"No! He's being an asshole, are you serious?"

"And you are not helping in the slightest," Aragorn admonishes.

She huffs. "No one else was standing up for me."

"You did not give us the chance."

"So you continue to choose her side?" Boromir asks.

"I didn't say that."

He throws up his hands. "No, no. I shall remove myself from the situation. My opinion clearly means nothing to you all."

"Lad, please listen to us at least," Gimli says but it falls on deaf ears as the steward of Gondor walks off.

"Okay, you can let go of me now," Adrienne says to Legolas, her voice tinged with annoyance,

"Can we trust you not to attack him again?"

"Legolas, leith- hen ," Aragorn orders. Release her. "He is gone."

Legolas complies and Adrienne would be lying if she said the thought of running after Boromir and kicking him in the balls didn't pass through her mind. But instead, she steps back and wraps her arms around herself defensively, still offended at Boromir's onslaught. "Good riddance," she mutters.

Aragorn gives her an exasperated look. "You need not take it to heart; I do not believe his issue lies with you yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he already has been…predisposed to be distrusting, and I'm afraid his being excluded from your introduction of sorts has only given him more reason. I am sure he feels confused, hurt, and suspicious of everything that has transpired."

Okay, she probably would feel the same way had the roles been reversed.

"I–I guess that's understandable," she grumbles. "But that's no excuse for him to be so rude about it."

"I do not disagree, and I apologize on his behalf. He is a good man, of that I can assure you." He eyes her as she nods dismissively. Laying a hand on her shoulder so she pays close attention, he softly suggests, "But do you suppose there could be some truth to what he spoke?"

"No …maybe. I don't know!" She throws her hands up. "I'm still too angry to think about it right now." There's a beat of silence before she frowns. "Wait, what did you mean before by Boromir being 'predisposed' to be distrusting?"

He sighs and exchanges looks with Gimli and Legolas. The hobbits, who have been uncomfortably sitting quietly in the background this whole time, also exchange looks among themselves.

Some understanding is said between them and Aragorn gently takes Adrienne's arm and guides her into sitting down, taking a seat next to her. "I trust Galadriel filled you in on what our quest entails?"

"Yeah, I mean she told me about how this Sauron guy really wants his evil little Ring back and we have to destroy it so that doesn't happen. And a bunch more obviously but that's the gist of it."

"Evil being an unsatisfactory word for the Ring," Legolas comments. "It is much more than that."

Aragorn and Gimli nod solemnly.

"The Ring tempts and gradually corrupts the one who wears it," Aragorn explains, and Adrienne's eyes sympathetically fly to Frodo who noticeably avoids her gaze. "And also to those around it; calling to them, whispering false promises, planting seeds of doubt." He looks around the group solemnly. "It has already begun; we have all felt it."

"Including Boromir," Adrienne says slowly, catching onto his meaning.

He nods. "More heavily than the rest of us, I suspect."

She blinks, processing this information. "Oh. That's…I mean, I kind of just feel bad for him now," she says sadly, looking down at her hands in her lap. Raising her eyes, she looks at each of the men's faces and is suddenly all too aware of how, even here in the peaceful Lothlórien, their faces all have a certain weariness in their eyes and a distinguishable shadow across their features, making visible the true weight of the burden they all carry upon their shoulders.

The burden I'm going to carry, too, if I join them.

In that moment, she feels bad for all of them; for all they have endured, for all they will endure, all for their love for this world and its inhabitants. And she realizes if she can do something useful with her life and help to ease their burden even in the slightest, even for the shortest amount of time, she will.

In that moment, she decides she's going to help them destroy the One Ring, even if it means she'll die trying.