Falling to her knees in exhaustion, the young woman bent forward, her breath wheezing with the effort. It was a chance that that her stomach was empty else she would have expelled all its content. She had gone too far, pushed her limits too much, and there was little more she could do now to get back on her feet. The strain was too great for her and for one of the first time in her life Frances surrendered, accepting defeat with a bitter heart. All her training in Interpol could not have prepared her to this.

As tough as she was, her body was failing. She could not compete with the lightness of Legolas's feet, nor the stubborn stamina of Gimli's stomping, nor even the improved resistance of a greater man like Aragorn. A reminder of how Numenor's blood was still strong and alive in the Dunedain's veins. His feet were lighter than hers, despite his hundred and eighty pounds. His ancestor being of elven kind had probably something to do with that. Stopping her spiralling thoughts for a moment, Frances lifted her head and squinted; the trio was quickly moving away from her.

Strider was the first to realise than one set of footsteps did not echo anymore on the moss, the lightest of her two companions. It was as he had feared. Being of the race of men himself, only the ranger understood the burden of a rather ineffective body. As much as Gimli complained, dwarves' stamina was still much better than the one of men. As for Legolas, he had sure showed some concern for their young companion, but he was now scouting ahead at a fair distance. Elves did not rest so much, and their weightless bodies allowed them to perform unimaginable things. Aragorn himself was exhausted, despite his many years as a ranger and wandering around with the twins. Elladan and Elrohir never got tired, and they had been the hell of teachers. How he missed them now that the fellowship had broken !

A quick glance at the young woman indicated that she was totally spent; there was no hope. She had probably pushed past her limits until the end. It was a miracle that she had not collapsed, and he could not help but salute her strength of will. The ranger turned around and retreated until he reached her. He knew that her quick mind would have understood the implications of her failure. The veil in her eyes said it all.

Frances had never looked more miserable, even after days and days of walking, nothing had been so hard on her than this hunt. Her reddish face showed great pain, and the sweat that rolled down from her damp hair quickly lost its temperature, leading her to shiver. She was slowly regaining her composure as breath came back to her. Her wildly beating heart was colouring her cheeks in a bright red crimson colour, a colour that was quite unsettling.

Aragorn kept his arms on hers, and she rested her hands upon his shoulders. Finally, Frances' eyes met his, and he was shocked to see the wisdom that laid deep down her soul. She knew, and had the strength to accept it because no other solution was possible. She would be the sacrifice to the cause, and even in her state of utter exhaustion her spirit was still clear enough to comprehend it. There was also fear in her eyes.

What her face would not show her eyes told him, and Aragorn's heart broke at the thought that he could not reassure her. He that wanted so badly to deny the difficult truth but could not. Why had this burden befallen upon him?

Heavy footsteps echoed around them, and he knew that their companions had joined them now. Both of them would have a hard time accepting what needed to be done, because none of them had considered it. Such was the privilege of not being the leader.

— "Are you hurt my lady?", came Legolas' concerned voice as he watched her, searching for potential injuries.

Had it been any other time, Frances would have smiled at this stubborn use of 'my lady'. No matter how many times she had protested, the elf still insisted on calling her by this old-fashioned title. Even Aragorn had come to call her by her name now. But today, she held no heart for laughing. And if she was being truthful, it felt like said heart would not last the day.

— "No" answered Frances shakily, hating herself for sounding so weak, "but I can go no further".

— "What is the problem?", asked Gimli, not understanding the issue.

— "I cannot keep up with this pace. I am spent…", she admitted with shame.

— "Surely we can rest for a bit then," puffed the dwarf, not willing to admit that a serious problem was at hand.

— "Rest we can for a few minutes if you need," said their leader's soft voice, "but I'm afraid that it will not be enough."

Silence met Aragorn's statement, as if they were afraid to delve further into the issue. Yet somebody had to do it. Somebody had to state the hurtful fact that they could not continue this hunt together.

— "You must leave me behind" stated Frances, her voice so even this time that it seemed casual.

But her tone did not fool Legolas whose protest came straight from the heart.

— "No! We cannot leave a companion here in the open, especially with the orcs running through the land freely!"

— "Legolas" attempted the ranger.

— "Never in a thousand years have I abandoned a friend. I cannot abide to this. We must carry her."

— "It will only exhaust you and get us killed when the battle comes," sighed Frances, feeling dizzy and pressing one palm to her throbbing forehead.

— "I can manage where you cannot," he said stubbornly. "I am an elf, I can run further or faster than any of you."

A storm was coming, dividing them, making them weaker. Frances could accept none of this, and even less a fight to tarnish such a strong friendship. This had to end.

— "Have you ever abandoned one of your friends in battle Aragorn?", she asked.

— "Never" said he, his voice gentle and eyes sincere.

She was still panting, and her chest hurt terribly after the strain, so the tirade that came next turned quite hard on her, but it was by all means necessary.

— "None of you are betrayers and cowards, but today Merry and Pippin need you. If they reach Saruman their doom is settled and my heart cannot bear the thought to have abandoned them to such a fate. I cannot go further and I am delaying you. Do not protest for I know this. I am of the tenth who swore to fulfil this mission no matter what. My body is failing me. You must go, free the hobbits and keep the knowledge of the ring hidden. This is your sacred duty. You hold the future of this world in your hands."

As she spoke, the young redhead seemed to get a bit of her fire back, and her eyes searched her three companions' gaze as she made her point. It was capital that all of them saw the necessity of what had to be done, but the elf's angry stare intimidated her enough to make her pause. The feelings pouring out of him were so strong, like steam out of a boiling kettle. Never had Frances felt such a turmoil coming from him. It distracted her for a while, and she took a deep breath before adding:

— "Do not give up, or none of this will be in vain. Gandalf and Boromir's death will be meaningless if you cannot do this. I refuse to be the cause of failure…"

As her words sunk down into the little group, Frances laid her head back against Aragorn's shoulder, letting his strength soothe her soul one last time. His hand came upon her back, like a promise to go on no matter what. That was it. Once they would be gone, Frances would be an easy prey. They all knew it. But there was so little choice. Gimli was silent, huffing and puffing nonetheless. He wanted to suggest staying, but it would be diminishing their chances to get the hobbits back. He knew that Frances was right, but it still was heartbreaking to leave her behind. Would it not be trading one problem for another if she was the one caught?

Mustering all her courage, Frances gently pushed the ranger's shoulder away from her. Standing straight and tall, she stated:

— "You must go now."

In her eyes shone an iron resolve.

"Then I will see you soon lass," concluded the dwarf with a nod as she bowed to him with a semi smile.

If there was something that she loved in the dwarf's character, it was his incredible ability to trust her judgement and abide by her decisions. He had accepted her as a full part of this fellowship, and as a warrior companion. He turned around, leaving his companions behind, but his hand passed gently across the elf's arm.

- "Come, Legolas", he said without turning back. "Our companions are depending on our aid.'

This acceptation strained the elf's patience. Legolas clenched his jaws so hard that he felt his teeth would pop out. He could not accept to leave her to this impending doom. But no choice was left, and even he would have to see it at a time.

Better sooner than later, she thought. Aragorn was already shuffling into his things, making a small bundle containing food and medicine. As he worked, he explained how to get in a safe place as soon as possible.

— "Head for Edoras. I'll come back for you as soon as Merry and Pippin are safe."

Frances nodded and he gave her the bundle under the stricken blue eyes of his elven friend.

— "Be safe" he said, his arms supporting her as he plunged his guilty gaze into hers.

— "You are doing the right thing."

— "I wish it felt that way", he sighed,

— "Find them, and it will be worth it. I will take care of myself and head for Edoras".

— "I'll meet you there" he promised.

And then he did something very surprising before letting her go. Crushing her against him in a bear hug, he landed a swift kiss in her hair and whispered.

— "Please, be careful."

If Frances had had some energy left, she might have cried from such tenderness. But fortunately, she was too exhausted to realise that a ranger had just hugged her in despair.

— "Always am," she smiled sadly.

Legolas was facing her but his eyes were not seeing. The deepness of his gaze showed that he had taken refuge elsewhere. She could not blame him for resting a bit, but Frances felt nonetheless disappointed that she did not get to say goodbye. Anyway, she needed to sleep. So she took the leather purse and strapped the string above her shoulder. None of them knew if they would see each other someday, and if her instincts tended to say yes, her reason seemed to think otherwise. She would soon be an exhausted prey over a dangerous land, nothing to be really thrilled about. She addressed her friends a quick nod, a gentle dismissal to release them.

Legolas, however, had yet to move. Strider and Gimli started running anew, leaving him a few peaceful moments before he decided to catch up. Frances watched them as their feet carried them away. She wished she could follow; after this little rest, it felt like she could even endure the strain. But she knew the falsehood of such hopes. The adrenalin would sustain her for a few minutes at best before she crumbled. No, better go now. It would give them the best chances to save the hobbits from a horrible death.

As Frances readied herself to get to a lower ground, she gave one last glance to the prince of Greenwood. She knew his gaze was on her. Each move she made, his eyes followed. He had yet to say a word. Sighing and in great need of rest, the young lady finally came to him and bowed:

— "My lord, should we not meet again I wish to tell you it had been an honour to fight alongside you."

For a second she thought that he would not answer, and then his deep eyes plunged into hers. There was so much regret in them that Frances had to lower her gaze, feeling even more guilty for giving up. But there was no energy left in her, there was nothing more she could do, save for a miracle. Still, he said nothing, and she then whispered while watching his elven boots:

— "Goodbye, Legolas, you are indeed a mighty prince and I wish you well in those troubled times."

As she turned away, afraid that he might be angry with her, the prince caught her wrist in a flawless move. She shuddered at the sudden contact, his warm hand heating up the skin underneath her sleeve's tunic.

— "Alas," he told her, "doomed is the day when I must abandon my friends and this action I will never forgive myself. Since it must be done for me to complete my oath, I promise that never again shall this happen."

Frances gasped, suddenly aware that the warrior she admired so much was confiding his distress to her, and filling her with the warmth of his feelings. The blow felt fantastic and terrific at the same time, but he did not linger to allow her to break into tears.

— "May you fare well my lady, for I wish you joy. Should the darkness leave this world again, I would be honored to be its witness."

His lips were on her hand at once, and Frances stood, paralysed. He lingered but a few moments that seemed like an eternity. And then, as quick as the wind, the elf was flying away. With him left her courage and the warmth of his presence, and Frances suddenly felt very lonely in this world that was not hers.

Tears welled up, soaking her already dampened face. Slowly, the young lady summoned was left of her energy and started walking. After what seemed like hours, she found a few trees and hid behind them. As soon as her eyes closed she fell deep into slumber, exhausted. The elf's light was gone. And even if it was daytime, Frances' slept in the darkness for the first time since the beginning of their journey.

Meanwhile, the unlikely team of a dwarf, an elf and a man ran desperately, feeling deeply about the shortening of their company once more, but still hoping to gain back the hobbits that had been taken from them so brutally. Gimli was struggling to keep up with the ranger and the elf, but his legendary stubbornness would not allow him to give up and so he went on. His friend, the elf, bore a constant frown on his usually flawless face, and not a word had been uttered from him since they had left the lass behind.

Brooding, Legolas could not accept the decision that had been made. But no matter how hard he thought about it, no other option would come to his mind. This fact angered him to a point he wasn't aware he could reach; he that was usually so levelled and cheerful realised how frightening the idea of seeing Frances come to harm was. His sombre mood did not go unnoticed by his friends, and he was well aware that it was wrong to take his anger on Aragorn for agreeing. After so many years of friendship never had he doubted any of his decisions as the captain of the Dunedain. Yet abandoning one of their own to retrieve two others was a bittersweet hope. However, they all knew that Frances was not in immediate danger. What a dilemma !

An odd sensation stirred in his stomach; betrayal. She had refused his help to carry her, and it felt like a rebuke. Legolas had always been a solitary elfling, but that was not out of the norm in the elven words given the little amount of kids that were born at the same time. His belonging to the only royal family left in middle earth since the last alliance had not helped either. For a long time, the Prince had been surrounded by the people of Greenwood that were not of his choosing, usually bounding with fellow warriors while defending his home. Never had he really developed a friendship with an elleth without being courted, and the relationship with Frances was extremely refreshing. Her absence, a dark cloud over his head.

A quick peek at Aragorn told the elf he wasn't the only one to worry. Aragorn prayed the Valar for her safety, and even if he knew there had been no other option he could not help but regret it. Abandoning one of them to rescue the hobbits was the best course of action given the circumstances, and still, even if she had insisted and accepted it, there was nothing that could wash the guilt away. Ever since Gandalf had fallen and the rest of the company turned to him for guidance, Aragorn was at loss.

Refusing to go to Minas Tirith was one of the things he still considered with difficulty, and he also took the blame for Boromir's death and the attack of Amon Hen. Leaving Frances had been a harsh blow to the little confidence that was left, and Legolas's clear disapproval gave him the impression that he truly was alone now. The difficult path that lay before him, doubled by an impossible destiny burdened his shoulder heavily. How could one man alone decide of the fate of humans in this war? Would his companions support him next time a difficult decision had to be taken?

Finally, the elf came near him, and he could tell by the look on his face that he had not come to terms with their previous action.

— "We should not have left her," he said suddenly.

His words held some relief for Aragorn; they were the first ones he had pronounced in hours. But the battle was not won by far. He answered between two gasps of air.

— "Yet, it was necessary."

— "Necessary for what? We don't even know if this sacrifice will be worth it!"

The idea that all of it could be in vain, that the three hunters could fail and reach the hobbits too late to save them was haunting the ranger, and Legolas's own insecurity about it had him exploding.

— "You could have stayed if you wished," eventually cried Aragorn, stopping dead in his tracks. "I did not order anything, you are my friend and free to do as you please! I, on the other hand, have a duty to this company. I will do anything in my power to see the hobbits safe, and she agreed to that."

Eyes wide, the elf froze. It was true, and he was behaving like a spoilt elfling. A meaty hand landed on his arm; Gimli was now contemplating the raging battle that stormed into his elvish friend's mind. If he understood their dilemma, the dwarf sometimes wished they would see better how capable Frances was. Dwarves respected their women; none of them were weak. Gimli's faith in the young woman abilities was strong.

— "Come on lads", he said. "She decided. The lass had her head clear so let's not linger any longer."

— "Gimli is right" nodded Aragorn, relieved by the dwarf's wise words, "we must go on and trust her to find a way to Edoras."

— "Alas" cried Legolas, "I see the reason in your words, I have been angered to leave another of us behind but you are right, she refused all my proposals to give us better chances to find Merry and Pippin."

— "Yes" approved Estel, his heart lighter, "let's hunt some orc and make them regret their foul actions !"

— "Yeah!", roared Gimli, his face still red from the running as he took off again

Amused, Legolas sprang to catch up with the dwarf. The two friends shared a long look, and then ran side by side, features set as they progressed in the land of Rohan. Gimli's boots flattened the grass under his boots. Legolas progressed gracefully aside him, his long strides light as feathers. Behind them was Aragorn, a smile on his lips at seeing the disparate pair. It was the weirdest friendship he had ever witnessed, the strongest too.