Chap 6.
The mood around the campfire was grim. Arwen had already gone to sleep, claiming a headache, but the rest of the fellowship were too intent for exhaustion to take them. "She must go back to Rivendell," said Legolas.
"I have said that from the start," said Aragorn, "but it is too late to send her back alone. The way is not safe."
Legolas stood, hair gleaming in the firelight. "Then I will take her back myself. I know not what devilry has befallen her but she thinks herself an elfling but forty-three years old. It as if she has forgotten the past 2700 years of her life."
"To forget so much, it is a terrible thing," said Boromir. "I now see why her speech is so strange. Even so, she seems to be improving and is learning Westron quickly. And even with so many years lost she is still older than the hobbits."
"It is not the same!" said Legolas. "And worse, I suspect she believes her mother still lives on these shores."
"She said that?" Aragorn hung his head. "Her illness began so suddenly a few months ago. She did not recognize me, only spoke of some nonsense about her name being Drizzt."
Gimli's low voice rolled out. "In the mines there are on occasion those who go mad. Sometimes… it is best to put them out of their misery."
"Gimli!" hissed Frodo.
Legolas drew his bow. "Dwarf, if you lay one hand on her I swear I-"
"ENOUGH!" Snow flurried away as Gandalf pounded his staff. "Our quest must proceed as planned. Arwen's grandparents can take custody of her once we reach Lothlorien."
A/N Just some more filler. Lovin' Gimli right now.