T.A. 2477, July

Daisy was a good girl. Most of the time.

Other times she conveniently became unable to hear her mother or father when they told her to come back onto the path instead of into the undergrowth. This gave her a bit of a reputation as being… well, not daft, not really, but being a little bit of an airhead. Daisy… honestly didn't care. It got her out of important jobs, people didn't expect her to contribute her opinion in conversations, and most of the time, she was left to do whatever she wanted and people just let her be, because 'Daisy will be Daisy.'

Which was why today, nobody was stopping her from entering that big old house in Bywater, the one that Big People were supposed to have been living in. She was only investigating because of rumors that it was haunted; some hobbits passing by the house during nighttime reported hearing laughter, conversation in an unknown tongue, sounds of housework going on. The constabulary was notified, and they attempted to enter the home only to find it locked. Then they'd shrugged and called it a day.

Daisy wanted to be a constable when she grew up. She would be paid for putting in the minimum level of effort possible, at least judging from current trends.

The twenty-year-old shuffled around the edges of the house. It was simple but well-built, the wooden walls without a hint of damage despite having stood for over four hundred years if legend were to be believed. Everything was comically enlarged, having been built for Big People rather than hobbits. The house had a triangular roof covered in overlapping ceramic tiles. It was weird, seeing a 'house' as they called it. Daisy was still mostly trying to get her head around the fact that the majority of Big Folk preferred to build homes above-ground.

The sounds of argument came from within the house, and Daisy paused.

"...Jesus Christ, Ron, for the last time, it won't fit!"

"Yeah, it will. It's close, but not impossible. Just need to push harder."

"Ron, that's not - Jesus fucking Christ, Ron, stop, stop, STOP!"

"By Merlin, woman, calm down."

"It's gotten stuck, you daft moron! At this rate we'll have to call for help from the bloody neighbors!"

"It hasn't gotten stuck. That's not how stuck works. If it managed to go in, it can come out."

Daisy was not an airhead as she pretended to be. She just happened to have too few fucks to give about anything. Indeed, her sense of self-preservation was completely eroded even in this case; Daisy forcibly opened a window and clambered in, then walked casually into the room from which she heard the argument.

"Oh, my sweet virgin eyes!" Daisy screamed, covering her eyes as she went, and stopped. She cracked open her fingers to find a fully clothed man and woman trying to shove a sofa through a doorway. They both stared at her. Daisy shrugged unapologetically and stared back.

"Did I leave the door unlocked?" The redheaded man wondered.

"What are you staring at?" Daisy challenged the woman, who sputtered.

"You're the one keeping their unblinking gaze on me," the woman replied.

"Alright, kid," the whiskered giant let go of the couch and approached her. "You've had your fun. Now out you go."

"Hey, you can't kick me out!"

"Sure I can. I'll even demonstrate it for you." The man placed his hand on her head - damn, it was heavy. But joke's on him, he had to lean down to do so. Daisy easily ducked under from his grasp and dived through his legs while he wondered where she'd gone.

"Too easy," Daisy hooted. "I can't believe anyone was scared of you."

"Why would people be scared of us?" the woman asked, confused.

"Thought this place was haunted."

"But… we met the neighbors," she said. "And we gave them a tin of biscuits as a gift."

"Are your neighbors, by any chance, less than three feet tall, have more white hair on their feet than their head, and all wrinkly?" Daisy asked, pulling down the flesh of her cheeks to demonstrate what she meant.

"I… guess?"

"Yeah, those are called 'old people', and they don't get out of the house much," Daisy nodded sagely. "It's very unlikely that anyone has spoken to them, apart from you of course, in the past twenty years. So I wouldn't expect anyone to know about you moving in."

The man and the woman glanced at each other, before diving at her in unison. Daisy shrieked in surprised delight and sprinted up the too-large stairs, stumbling several times but keeping just ahead of the two Big People. She dove into what was clearly the master bedroom, with a gigantic mattress that could probably fit five of her in a line. Ooh, and a walk-in wardrobe! Those made for the best hiding spots!

She ducked inside and blinked. Those… were those robes? Not like houserobes, but actual robes that people stopped wearing several thousand years ago? Rich politicians and cult leaders being the exceptions, obviously. And a pointy hat. Several of them. Like a wizard? Daisy snorted, then immediately realized her mistake as the two Big People heard her and threw open the door to the wardrobe.

Daisy ducked underneath one of the very large hats and did her best impression of a tree.

"Smug little prick," she heard the man grumbling. "I'd have caught her by now if I didn't have to go on all fours to search for the midget."

Daisy huffed internally. She was taller than most of her friends.

"Fawkes? Would you mind looking for the intruder?"

Daisy blinked as the following silence was interrupted by a sound like a crackle of a fireplace and beautiful birdsong that she didn't recognize. It warmed her heart, her body, and cleared her mind. It made her feel happy. That was one beautiful song - and her eyes flickered down. From what she could see of the ground, a gentle orange glow had washed over the floor. Then, a slender neck stuck itself into her field of view.

Daisy swallowed, as the gold-plumed bird stared at her, cocking its head so one beady black eye settled on her figure. Then the bird pecked her foot.

"Ow!" Daisy whipped off the hat and slapped at the bird with it, the bird dancing away gracefully. "That hurt!"

She was immediately picked up by the black-haired woman who held her at arm's length, grimacing. Daisy huffed. The woman was treating her like a soiled diaper or something! That was just plain rude. And that smug bird bitch was giving her a triumphant look. The bird noticed her glare, and trilled happily.

"Alright, take it outside," the man said.

The woman sighed. "Can't I just… toss it out of the window or something?"

"Wouldn't that break its legs?"

"...nah, it's small, it doesn't weigh much. It won't land too roughly."

"I detest being referred to as an 'it'," Daisy said, crossing her arms. She wished she had a little more dignity as she said that, though - considering she was being held up under her armpits at arm's length like a baby that was vomiting everywhere, she didn't have much dignity right now.

"You're telling me that you're not a little goblin?" The woman asked, mock-surprised.

"No! I'm not a goblin, I'm a hobbit," Daisy insisted. "Just like you, except without the gigantism."

"Maybe I'll just leave you sitting on the top shelf," the woman muttered darkly.

"Bitch," Daisy muttered.

"I'm putting you in time-out, young lady."

And she was promptly stuck on the tallest shelf.

This sucked. The shelf was the only shelf! It was technically the lowest shelf as much as it was the highest one. There was no way to climb down, and she could only try to drop seven feet to get back down. She swallowed. That was a pretty big drop… the man and the woman stared at her imprisonment with a sick, twisted sense of satisfaction.

"Sadists," Daisy grumbled.

"We're not sadists. We'll make sure to leave a food bowl and water bowl up there for you," the man rumbled.

"I'll pee on the floor," Daisy threatened.

"We'll make you wear nappies," the woman snapped back.

Yeah, Daisy wasn't going to win this one. She grumbled, crossed her arms, and looked away. The man snorted in amusement before going downstairs, presumably to break the sofa or maybe the doorway itself. The woman glared at her. "Behave," she said in a voice commanding enough that Daisy almost considered listening to it. "I will be back soon." Then she left.

Daisy swung her legs off the edge of the shelf. Already bored. She counted the number of creases in the curtains. Then she counted the number of squares in the quilt. She lost track of the number several times so, annoyed Daisy simply counted the number of squares on each edge and multiplied them together. Then she realized she'd used up all her entertainment.

Hm. Maybe if she jumped off from here, she could land on the bed? She rose warily to her feet; the ceiling was too low for her to stand up properly, leaving her in a sort of half-crouch. She only had one shot at this. Land on the bed. Easy peasy. Easy as pie. As cake. As… easy as… stealing Ferdinand's candy. Yes. Very easy. Focus.

She leaped, and fell short.

Daisy's eyes widened, flailing in midair as she realized she was not going to land right - then grunted. The air was knocked from her lungs as she landed on the very edge of the bed, her chest striking the mattress. Her right ankle twisted uncomfortably underneath her and she felt an uncomfortable heat burn the joint in question. She topped backwards onto the carpeted floor and groaned weakly. The sound of someone furiously storming up the stairs had never been more welcome.

"What have you done now, you…!" The woman, the raven-haired one, trailed off as she saw the groaning hobbit child (no dignity) on the floor. The woman just palmed her face, and muttered something under her breath. Daisy was fairly certain it wasn't a compliment.

"Alright, I apologize," the woman said sharply. "I'm sorry I made the decision to put you in time-out by placing you on a shelf, because I never thought you'd be idiotic enough to jump from a place just over twice your height. Considering you broke into our house, I should've guessed. Now, are you injured?"

"Ankle," Daisy whined pitifully.

"Utter idiot," the woman muttered, as she picked Daisy up. Daisy winced. "Ribs as well?"

"Maybe?" Daisy said.

The woman dropped Daisy unceremoniously on the bed, although she took care to avoid hurting her ankle. Daisy landed and released an 'oof' in a rush of air from the shock of it. The woman placed her hands on her hips, and glared at Daisy for a very long time, saying nothing. Daisy fidgeted, unable to look her in the eyes. The lady could be really scary when she wanted to be, it seemed.

"This time, you will heed my order and stay, here," she spoke clearly and slowly. "Understood?"

Daisy nodded meekly.

"Good. Don't injure yourself further."

Thus, Daisy ended up landing herself in a, this time, inescapable prison created from her own stupidity. The woman returned a few minutes later with a damp towel in her hands. Daisy hissed as the cloth was wrapped gently around her throbbing ankle. The woman scowled at her.

"What's your name?"

"...Daisy."

"Well, Daisy, my name is Katherine. But you may call me Katie." The woman straightened. "Fawkes, do you think you can come help her, even if she is entirely deserving of her injuries?"

Daisy's jaw fell open as, in a flash of flame, the golden bird from before appeared, trilling. Again, that strange sensation of a high, blooming buds of optimism and contentedness, of beauty. The bird glided onto the bed on its sparkling copper-colored wings, its tail streaking after it like that of a shooting star. It landed gently on its clawed feet and made its way towards Daisy on its feet and two wings to keep its balance on the soft blankets.

Daisy reached out slowly with one hand. The bird blinked, then nudged her fingers with its head; Daisy smiled. The bird hopped closer, seemingly examining the injury. It cocked its head, and began blinking. Was… was it crying?

A single teardrop fell from the bird's eyes and onto her ankle; Daisy let out a hiss as the injury burned hot for a very brief moment, before receding into a dull throb and continuing to disappear. Katie lifted the towel and, before her very eyes, the swelling reduced; the pain disappeared; Daisy gaped dumbly at the bird as it trilled again before disappearing in another flash of flame.

"What?" She managed.

"Fawkes is a phoenix. His tears can heal almost any injury," Katie shrugged. "You'd best get back home. The sun is about to go down."

Daisy hesitantly pulled herself off of the edge of the bed and landed on two feet. Neither of them hurt. She stared up at Katie, who was watching her expectantly, her arms crossed. Daisy stared back. Katie jerked her head to the doorway.

"Thanks," Daisy mumbled awkwardly. How the hell were you supposed to talk to someone who had just helped you, despite you being a complete jerk to them?

"You're welcome," she said primly. "Now get out."

Daisy hurried down the stairs and she paused briefly as the red-whiskered giant of a Man was standing in the doorway, clutching a mug of tea in his hand. That was nothing unusual, but his arm, his entire left arm… it had a metallic sheen and, while shaped like an arm made of flesh and bone, clearly wasn't. It was as if it was made entirely of quicksilver, shifting and shimmering like the surface of a pond being blown by wind. Undecipherable runes were etched into the surface of it, like tattoos.

"Looks like you're healed. That's good," he said. "That being said, you're an idiot."

Daisy didn't really have anything to retort. Mostly because she was still staring at the arm.

"Didn't Katie tell you to get out?"

Daisy got out.

T.A. 2489, November

"Sloppy," Ron grunted as the startled deer bounced away.

"So tells me the one who has several thousand years of experience," Daisy grumbled, standing up fully and approaching the tree where her arrow had gotten stuck. Despite being significantly larger than a hobbit, Ron was deceptively silent.

"You're the one that said they wanted to out-shoot elves," Ron said. "You'll need to get much, much better than that. And very fast, too."

"Immortality seems like an unfair advantage when it comes to mastering skills."

"I don't know. Your talent in getting yourself injured seems to significantly outstrip that of any elves I know."

"Says the one that died."

Ron growled at her, and Daisy danced out of his reach before he could smack her upside the head. She avoided them wherever she could, because his slaps hurt. Not only was his hand significantly larger than a hobbit's (and large even for a Man), it was also calloused from many years of weapons training and apparently blacksmithing. And that wasn't even his metal hand - Daisy had once seen Ron crush a brick in that hand when Daisy pissed him off while he was building his 'pizza oven'.

She retrieved her arrow with a bit of effort and nocked it onto the bowstring again. The thin layer of snow on the soil left little footprints; Daisy silently followed the tracks of the startled deer. It could've run quite a ways, but with Ron watching her back and both of them carrying a pack full of food and water so, if need be, they could continue the pursuit for several days.

Two hours later, Daisy and Ron came across the deer from before; Daisy recognized the branching of its horns. Daisy glanced at Ron, who nodded at her, and she quietly drew the string back. Her arm wavered slightly - damn the cold - but she held her breath and gave herself three heartbeats before she released.

The arrow struck the deer's front leg; it yelped and tried to limp away, but a second arrow whistled past Daisy's head and embedded itself in the base of the deer's head. The broadhead punched through bone like it was made of paper, and the deer fell to the ground, dead. Daisy released her breath and glanced back at Ron. He stood up, pulling his scarf back up to his nose, and cracked the knuckles of his right arm.

"Nice shot," Daisy commented as she stood up.

"Eh, it was alright. Hunting in the cold is tough, and there's no getting around it unless you're an elf and have never experienced the sensation of your fingers slowly falling off," Ron muttered the last part darkly. "Damn elves."

"Damn elves," Daisy echoed. Ron approached the deer and hoisted it up onto his shoulder. Damn, he was strong. He didn't even have to use his quicksilver arm to do so. He nodded to Daisy.

"Do you want to keep going? Try and find another one?"

"Nah," Daisy said, shivering. "I don't like the cold. And it's not even winter proper yet."

"Fair enough. Let's head back, then."

The two of them began hiking back towards the Shire. After a couple of hours, they reached Buckleberry Ferry, and as Ron had done her the favor of carrying the game, Daisy was the one who rowed to the other shore. It was getting dark by the time that they returned. The hobbits, many of them who were brushing the snow off their porches, glanced at them as they passed by. By now, most of them knew that a couple of Big People lived in the old Bywater house where magicians had supposedly lived.

Well, Daisy knew it for a fact that the legend was true, now, but most didn't.

"Is there a reason you go hunting?" Daisy suddenly wondered. Ron grunted in askance. "As in, the Shire has plenty of farms and ranches. You'll find a lot of cows and the like if you go out towards the more rocky regions that are less suited for crops. So why do you go out of your way to hunt?"

"Keep my skills sharp, I suppose," he said. "Don't really need to hunt, but, well, I need to make sure I can hurt someone with a bow."

"You planning to go to war, or something?"

"Not me, no. Probably not in the rest of my life," he said. "But darkness encroaches upon the world. You'd be surprised how dangerous it is outside the Shire."

Daisy glanced up at him. He didn't seem to be joking, at least. And the man had fought a Balrog - upon research, Daisy discovered just what an accomplishment it was to fight one such thing and survive it. Orcs, goblins, warg-riders. Necromancers in forests and black cloaked riders. Hobbits had gone to war before, five hundred years earlier. That seemed like a long time ago, and it was, but Ron had lived long enough to know that peace could never last forever.

"By the way, we have a guest," Ron said.

Daisy blinked at him. "A guest? Who?"

"You'll see."

Daisy rolled her eyes. There was nothing to be gained from being a secretive asshole. It was probably Gandalf again, anyway. The old coot came here as often to visit Ron and Katie as to stock up on tobacco. She kicked idly at the snow. There wasn't enough snow to make snowballs and hit Ron with, not yet.

"On your best behavior, if you please," Ron said, as they reached the Big House. He dropped the deer carcass off towards the side somewhere. It was cold enough that it probably wouldn't rot or anything. He shook the snow off of his shoulders, wiped the bottom of his boots on the welcome mat, and stepped inside. Daisy followed.

Then she came face to face with an absolutely gorgeous woman.

Now, Katherine wasn't unattractive. Quite the opposite, in fact, in spite of her slightly hawkish nose and somewhat stern visage. She was certainly more handsome than any of the hobbits that Daisy knew, since hobbits on the whole tended to be more rounded (a side effect of being short). But this woman? Her limbs were long, graceful, and her skin the color of ivory. Her hair shone like gold and her blue eyes sparkled.

"Buh," Daisy said.

"Daisy, meet Celebrian," Katie said. "Please don't embarrass us."

"Are you an elf?" Daisy asked.

"I am," Celebrian said, amused. "I trust I'm not intruding, Daisy. It has been some time since I have seen these two - I only rececntly learned they'd taken on another apprentice under their wing."

"Another?" Daisy glanced at Ron, who shrugged.

"Hundreds of years ago," Katie confirmed. "Last I checked, the little sect is doing just fine on the peak of Mount Gundabad. I've chosen not to interfere since they don't seem to be screwing everything up."

"How long ago did you visit them?" Celebrian asked. "For that matter, how long since you have visited anywhere?"

"About one hundred years, to the first question, and ever since we settled here, to the second," Katie replied.

"Ah, good, I had thought you might be avoiding Rivendell but it appears we're getting the same treatment as the rest of your friends," Celebrian said in a teasing tone. "You must come visit again. Lord Elrond is keen on seeing you both, as are Elladan and Elrohir."

Ron grumbled something about lazy elves that Daisy didn't entirely catch. Judging by the way Celebrian's pointy ears twitched and she scowled, she definitely heard. Daisy imagined what it would be like having an elf's hearing. She'd be able to overhear all the juicy gossip! Maybe even voices inside minds?

She desperately cut off that train of thought. Didn't want to test that possibility.

"So," Katie propped her head on her palm, elbows on the edge of the table. "Have you continued practising, Celebrian?"

Celebrian flushed slightly. "Sometimes?"

"You really must keep up with it, you know," Katie urged. "Honestly, I can't understand why you haven't been hurt already. You visit your parents for a month every other year, and you do this alone! No guards! What if something tries to hurt you? I worry for you."

"I know…" Celebrian shifted guiltily.

"You have a husband who fought in one of the biggest wars in history," Katie said with a raised eyebrow. "Surely he'd accommodate you, for your safety if nothing else."

Celebrian looked uncomfortable. "I did ask, once…"

"And?"

"I was unsure how he would feel about it, and I lessened by training hours in fear that he might discover me and question me. I decided to, ah, just 'get a grip', as you say sometimes, and ask if he could train me," Celebrian said. "He didn't understand why I was asking. He told me if I wouldn't rather just have guards instead, if I cared for my safety. After all, it's not as if many women take up fighting…"

Katie's eyes narrowed and Celebrian swallowed. "I suppose I will have to come visit Rivendell soon, after all," she said sweetly. Ron snorted from beside Daisy, amused. Daisy had never met Celebrian's husband, but being called Lord Elrond, he was obviously an important fellow. And watching important folk getting yelled at by Katie was always fun to watch.

"Can I come?" Daisy asked innocently.

"Ask your parents," Ron instantly replied.

"But they'll say no!"

"Then that's their choice. Although I don't think they'll be too worried about you visiting elves, of all people."

"You can't be too harsh on him. Elves are the oldest of the races in Middle-Earth, after all, so it's only they're also the most traditional…"

"Traditional? Don't try to flatter something that's clearly nothing more than outdated," Katie snorted. "I love Middle-Earth, and the people in it, but sometimes I forget this is a pre-industrial society with pre-industrial social stigmas."

"With most mammals, females are generally less physically imposing than their male equivalents," Ron commented. "Meaning that women in combat are, generally speaking, disadvantaged. However you, being an elf, will be almost easily able to overpower any non-elf opponents including Dwarves, Men, Orc, Goblins, and so forth. I feel like self-defense would be a good investment for all elves, not just specifically men or specifically women - especially considering you're all basically immortal until you're killed by something."

"I - yes. You raise good points," Celebrian nodded to herself, cupping her chin in delicate fingers. She looked up. "You know how to fight, yes?"

Katie blinked. "Sort of? Ron knows better than I do. I could teach you hand-to-hand but you're better off asking the big lug if you want training with weapons."

"Better to start with hand-to-hand than with weapons," Ron interjected. "You'll want to improve your instincts before starting to train with weapons. Getting hit by fists hurt less than getting hit by even practise swords."

Katie nodded. "Alright, then. I guess we're starting Katherine Bell's Boot Camp of Hell first thing tomorrow!"

Celebrian sputtered. "I didn't…"

"Too late now, Bri-Bri! You can use my bed, you won't be getting as much rest as you might like once the training starts. Come on!" Katie effortlessly picked up the taller woman and stomped up the stairs. Ron and Daisy watched them go. Daisy glanced at Ron.

"Have I gotten better at fighting?"

"Yeah." Daisy preened. "But not as much as you like to think you have."

"Screw you."

Ron snorted and went into the kitchen to make himself some tea.

T.A. 2509, August

Arwen watched her mother. She was humming to herself as she read a book on her bed, skillfully using her single hand.

She, her father, and her brothers had ridden as hard as they could to Lothlorien, where their mother was now. Seeing her, so pale and close to death, had been an experience neither of them were likely to forget. Lord Elrond had not removed himself from her side for three whole weeks, doing nothing but tending to her, sparsely eating.

Yesterday, Celebrian had awakened, her eyes snapping open and almost entirely coherent from the moment of her awakening. It had been a week since, but their mother simply seemed… angry. There was no other way to describe it. She treated her own family with kindness, naturally, save for a few brief arguments with Lord Elrond, graced them with smiles and reassurances of her health, but when nobody was looking at her, speaking to her, her pale blue eyes were cold and harsh like chips of ice. Her lips were thinned and pale. She seemed to be smoldering with leftover rage. Considering what she had been put through, Arwen could understand somewhat.

Celebrian had survived against all odds, and nobody could claim less.

She had been carrying twin swords and several throwing knives in the event that she might be stopped by a few bandits on the road. She wore a mail shirt underneath her jacket, but nothing else. She was equipped to deal with a few distasteful folk who might have tried robbing her of her valuables. She most certainly was not equipped to deal with a forty-strong company of warg-riders, on foot, and carrying no ranged weapons.

Lord Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, and even Arwen herself could not get much information out of her. However, when Elladan and Elrohir had gone to her aid after a small nightingale whispered in Lord Elrond's ear, the twins found a trail of destruction leading to the entrance of a small cave, dozens of Orc and animal corpses littering the entrance, with their mother bleeding out to death in the far end. Everything below her left elbow had been turned into something unrecognizable, the teeth marks on her upper tricep suggesting she might have been used as a warg's chew-toy; she had twice as many broken ribs as those intact, and only her chainmail might have prevented her heart from being pierced; that said, one of her lungs had already collapsed. Her legs were broken and her skirt torn, and judging by the state of the freshest corpses, it was more likely than not an attempt by the orcs to force themselves upon her in her moment of weakness. Before fainting, their mother had punched a new hole into her belt and tightened it around her damaged arm to prevent bleeding. Even then, it had been a very, very close call for her.

"Ah, there you are."

Arwen raised her head, her flickering from the patient on the bed to the four newcomers. One with red hair, two with black hair, and another with hair as pale as her grandmother. Celebrian raised her head and beamed. "Well, hello, you four!"

"Fuck, Bri," Katie blurted. "I'm sorry."

Katie looked like she wanted to squeeze Celebrian as tight as possible, and was restraining herself due to the bandages on Celebrian's chest. Celebrian winced as she attempted to raise her body into an upright position. Arwen, Katie and Fleur simultaneously attempted to get her to lay back down, and Celebrian relented.

"Like Katie said," Ron spoke softly, "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I assume that if you did not get influenced by us, you might have not come out looking like you were trampled by horses."

"Nonsense," Celebrian scoffed. "If I did not get influenced by you and fought back, they would have executed me. If anything, you helped me survive."

Ron still looked rather uncomfortable. Harry, on the other hand, looked as uncaring as ever. Did Arwen also mention that he was as tall as Lord Glorfindel? He stepped forward in his somehow-altered body and approached her mother. "Huh, who would've thought you had it in you? I personally always thought you looked rather 'armless." He snickered, and Celebrian and Arwen both glared at him. Fleur smacked the back of his head.

"Anyway, guess who else lost an arm?" Harry asked. Celebrian's eyes wandered over to Ron. "Correct. I could do what he did to himself - grow you an arm of quicksilver - or if you're willing to wait maybe five years, make you an arm of flesh and bone."

Celebrian thought about it. "What are the advantages and disadvantages of each?"

Arwen gasped. "Mother! Surely you could not be thinking of choosing an arm made of metal?"

"Hush, Arwen. Harry?"

"Well, the flesh and bone is fairly easy. You have proper nerve endings so you can touch and feel things. The quicksilver arm? Well, it's stronger, for a start, partly because of its durability. Ron can lift significantly heavier weights with his left arm than his right, for example. You'll be able to catch swords and stuff, because it's made of metal. As for cons? Well, you have the appearance of it, which I personally like because it makes you look like the T-1000, but I've been told it looks rather ugly. The sense of touch is also dampened - it's not completely gone, but reduced, and you'll easily miss fine details like coarseness and whatnot."

Celebrian looked down at her stump of an arm, frowning thoughtfully. It was at that moment that Lady Galadriel gracefully glided to the bedside; as always, she was wearing that serene, enigmatic smile. She hushed the entire room by raising her porcelain hand. Arwen swallowed. Her grandmother… while they had always been close, Lady Galadriel was a figure that commanded great respect, and Arwen could never feel entirely comfortable around her. As if she ought to scrape and bow.

"I would like to have a discussion with my daughter," Lady Galadriel said softly. "I invite Fleur and Katherine to stay. The rest of you, though, I would like some privacy from."

"My magic not good enough, is it?" Harry grumbled, but nonetheless headed to the exit with his friend. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Galadriel."

Galadriel's expression did not waver. "You too, Arwen," she said, not even looking at her.

"She's my mother," Arwen pleaded. This time, Galadriel did turn to look at her; Arwen shivered slightly as the raw power and authority brushed over her. She felt so, so small, like an insect. And perhaps, Arwen was no greater a threat than a simple insect to her grandmother.

"I applaud you in your efforts to keep your mother comfortable. However, I would like to speak to her, regarding her life, including details that you do not know and are not mine to share," Galadriel said. "I only invite Fleur and Katie for their knowledge in magic and their admittedly long years with Celebrian."

"I've known my own mother longer than the two of them combined!" Arwen snapped.

Galadriel did not flinch, nor did her neutral expression waver. In fact, she did not seem angry or upset at all, and that somehow scared her more. "Arwen," Galadriel said softly, "I would like a private discussion with my daughter."

She was not saying anything she had not already said, but somehow, it was different. Arwen woodenly stood and left the room. The door to the infirmary shut with a sense of finality behind her, and she stared at her feet for a good minute before she raised her eyes again. She glanced to the side. Harry and Ron were there, chatting quietly. Ron snorted at something Harry had said.

"Hey, kid," Harry said. "Don't feel bad. Galadriel doesn't appreciate my commentary either."

"I am family," Arwen said bitterly. "I feel I should have a right to object to my mother's more questionable life choices, as minor as it may seem."

"Hey, it ain't that bad," Ron protested, revealing a glimpse of his reflective arm. "It's served me just fine for close to four thousand years."

"Yeah, and now she can become Celebrian Skywalker," Harry mused.

"Anakin and Luke lost their right hands, not left," Ron retorted, as Arwen simply blinked at him.

"Ah, my bad," Harry said thoughtfully. "I can't remember any characters with prosthetic left arms…"

Ron and Harry stood in contemplative silence. Just as Arwen was about to shuffle away, Ron snapped his fingers. "Imperator Furiosa?"

"Imperator Celebriosa?" Harry tested out. "Celebirator Furiosa?"

"Both are garbage," Ron commented, and the two men chuckled.

"Celebrian sure had a hell of a lot of fire in her," Harry said. "I skimmed the top of her mind, and what do I see? Pure, unadulterated, badass. Vengeance against the Orcs, desire to be stronger, with a dash of the secret ingredient, ambition to become the greatest terror this world has ever seen. And she's got the determination to achieve those things in spades. I was surprised."

"Seriously?" Ron said, even as Arwen's eyes went wide. Seriously? she echoed Ron in her mind. Her mother had always been pacifistic, preferring gentle activities over fighting. It had changed slightly a few hundred years ago, when she became close with Fleur and Katie, but she had never realized just how far gone.

"No shit," Harry swore. "She's full of all those emotions Gandalf and Radagast would disapprove of, but I say good on her. She's a one-woman-army ready to take her due." He smirked. "I really like Imperator Furiosa, you know. Maybe I'll give Celebrian a present or two when Galadriel stops being a bitch to me."

He stiffened for a brief moment, before throwing up his middle finger in the direction of the infirmary, where Arwen knew her grandmother was situated still. Arwen missed the significance of the strange salute, but Ron chuckled, amused. Harry turned back to Ron, and pulled out two… devices. They were unlike anything that Arwen had seen before. Were they clubs? It was made mostly of wood, with bands of dark iron, and the tip of it was a thin metal tube. It also had some sort of strange metal contraption along the top of the strange device.

"You still think you got it?" Harry said with a cocky smirk.

Ron smirked back as his metal arm plucked one of the contraptions from him. "God damn, this brings back memories."

The two men, looking in all the world like old brothers-in-arms, strode out of the building. Their heavy footfalls echoed through the corridors, occasionally punctuated by the clicking sounds as they examined their weapons - for what else could they be - and the gentle breeze generated by their low-hanging coats brushing against the back of their boots.

A/N: Man, this chapter was really difficult to write for me. I've been trying to give Katie and Ron some closure... it's hard. I always knew it would be, but I don't think I properly understood how difficult it was. Regardless, I think I will be moving into the realm of canon events soon. I've started re-reading the Hobbit - I hope I don't leave out any details, though.

Other factoids: the strange contraptions Harry pulled out were M1903 Springfields. Imperator Furiosa's wikipedia page said she carried an SKS. As a result, I decided to go with a WWII-era rifle as well. I'm afraid I don't know much about firearms, but you can expect that Harry's Wardrobe has an armory in it that contains every weapon imaginable, ones that they built themselves or others that they stole from various world governments (such as their collection of Cold War ICBMs).

I see that my decision to kill off Ron and Katie generated some conflict within readers. That's fine, I'm not a perfect writer and I won't pretend to be. However, I stand by my decision, and if this really ticks you off, just write your own story. You can even just continue off the previous chapter. I'd be flattered if someone wrote a fanfic of my fanfic. Go wild, we're all taking inspiration from each other on this site.

Edit: I just discovered the SKS isn't a WWII rifle, it just merely happened to be designed in WWII. My apologies - I did tell you I was uninitiated, though! At leas this thankfully has no relevance to the plot, so you may hopefully continue to enjoy the story.