Her bag was already packed, it's ragged body slumped peacefully upon her borrowed bed. Nimirher ran her hands longingly over the plush cover, her body already feeling the withdrawal. She hadn't had such luxurious materials staying with Saruman and now her body had been spoiled. Even through the vicious nightmares her limbs had clung so desperately to the covers warmth; as if wishing for a body to cling to.

She groaned, running her hands through her long hair. Her last night in Rivendell had been an interesting one to say the least. Gandalf's persistence that she could be an amazing wizard had ended up just frustrating her further. The tiny pile of cinder he had brought to her room still sat innocently within it's ceramic dish, completely scorch free. Even though she had voiced her concern that she might never be able to control her gift completely, Gandalf had just waved it off. He had no doubts in his mind that she would be brilliant one day. Why couldn't she believe so strongly in herself? Why must her dreams manifest her doubts? She hadn't received a rest from those horrific nightmares. They were beginning to control her limbs making her doubt the little control she already possessed.

Nimirher sat down upon her bed, her mind reeling with her own internal dialogue. Why couldn't she just force her body to ignore them? She already knew that answer, she wasn't strong enough yet. She couldn't push past the death to see the possibility of life. Saruman had made it his goal to make her mentally weak, to put up walls too tall for her to climb. He wanted her to suffer, to question her allegiances. It would make it so much easier for him to finally break her down and make her his; the weapon he so desired.

Clenching her fists, she felt her nails dig deeper into her fleshy palms. She was tired not only physically but emotionally. Tired of feeling like her world was crumbling beneath her feet. Tired of feeling so weak. Day and night she had practiced to make the two wizards in her life proud, proud that a woman could carry the name Istari. She had since felt like nothing short of a failure. Gandalf refused to admit to her face but she saw it in his weathered eyes. A tool, that's all she was ever going to be under the watchful eye of Saruman.

So what if she was meant to be a weapon. She was starting to realize that her fate was not in her hands. She had been chosen to wield an element so destructive and so dangerous. How could she turn her back on something so definitive? She would burn down forces while she laughed in Sarumans face. And she would make Sauron quake within; his nightmares would burn him alive.

"Nim, are you ready?" Startled from her reverie, the woman in question turned around to find her doorway blocked by Aragorn. Gone were the velvet clothes he adorned while in the company of elves, instead his weather worn travel cloak was back. Even through the tiring efforts of skilled elf maidens, his dark uniform still bore the signs of old age and many skirmishes. The pack he held in his hand was filled and ready for adventure.

"Nim? Really? When did we decide on nicknames?"

Aragorn chuckled quietly as he advanced towards her. "Since Nimirher became too much to say all the time. Nimirher, you set a bush on fire again….Nimirher, you're concentrating too hard. The room's getting too hot….Nimirher, you got the hobbits in trouble again."

"Alright I get it!" Throwing her bag, she hoped that the heavier objects would make contact with one of his body parts.

Catching her bag before it even got close to hitting him, Aragorn watched as she quietly laughed to herself. In the brief span they had housed within the house of Elrond, the young woman before him had become a fast friend. Every morning he watched her slowly eat breakfast, her body too weak from lack of sleep to have to function so early in the day. As the deep bruises beneath her eyes began to darken, his concern for her health became more evident. He never received any help from Nim herself; she remained silent about her struggles. Gandalf had provided the only explanation for her distress and while he had wanted to speak with her about the matter, the old wizard made him promise to keep it to himself.

It pained him to watch her isolate herself from a part of their company. Elrond continued to hold council with her; trying to get an idea of her original origins. But most of the elves in Rivendell kept a safe distance from her at all times. Legolas being the only exception and he even seemed to take every measure available to stay away from her sometimes.

He was afraid for her. She dealt with her problems too much on her own. When she refused to talk to anyone, she took off to find the hobbits. They were good for her because they could make her laugh but none of that joy could completely penetrate her pain.

Aragorn watched her as she slowly strapped her blade to her waist; her bow and arrow already perched upon her back. This morning seemed different though. She looked more confident, her body renewed with strength he hadn't seen since she had arrived.

A great horn blew below within the courtyard. Nimirher grabbed her bag from Aragorn, "Well it seems Boromir is ready for battle."

Nimirher and Aragorn were the last of their company to arrive. Boromir stood off to the side, his scowl present even from the distance she kept between them. The Gondorian man held nothing but hostility towards her, "What took you so long to find your way to us? Even the ring bearer was here before you."

"I was saying goodbye to my bed." The lack of emotion on her face did little to settle his anger. Boromir was determined to make her lose control again. Anything he could find to hold against her would only fuel the fire of uncertainty within his heart.

Skipping past the irritating man, Nim found her way to Sam. The hobbit seemed to be carrying one of the heaviest packs amongst their group. The frying pans still dangling from his bag warmed her heart. It seemed the sweet hobbit still planned to cook them meals while on the road. "Bill looks ready to leave. I think he's more excited for this adventure than anyone else here."

"Yes, he certainly does." Sam slowly stroked the side of the beasts neck, his eyes slightly glossed over.

Nim placed her hand upon his shoulder trying to rely the confidence she felt in her body towards the emotional hobbit, "He's a smart animal Sam. He'll do just fine on this journey. I'm actually more worried about Merry and Pippin."

The two in question stood behind Gandalf, admiring each other's swords. They hadn't had much time to practice with the tiny blades but the prospect of having to use them seemed to excite the pair. Nim had tried to give them lessons while they meandered through the elfish halls but she found it difficult to get those two to focus longer than an hour, "Those two have the attention span of a fish. And you and I both know that that doesn't last very long at all."

She hadn't realized how close he was standing by her until she heard his quiet chuckle from behind. Prince Legolas stood ready by the archway, his back adorned with his bow and quiver. The long handles of his knives stood proud behind his head; he carried no pack.

His mouth remained in a smirk. Her comment about the two hobbits seemed to have amused the elf, "They are trying to name their blades."

The relationship between the two of them, though cordial, remained complicated. When they weren't trying to avoid each other, he was giving her tips on her archery skills. It was during a rather frustrating practice session that he had first spoken with her.

"

You need to concentrate."

"Thanks for the tip Aragorn." her tone sharp as she stared at the few arrows littering the ground below her intended target. She took a little pride in the two that had managed to embed themselves in the trees behind her practice barrel. At least they were in the general vicinity.

Drawing one more arrow from the quiver upon her back, she notched her weapon one more time, "Your grip is too tight."

She hadn't heard that voice since the day of the council. It seemed he had been avoiding her as much as she had been him. She wasn't sure if it was because of the whole body being possessed and set on fire incident but unlike Boromir, the prince held no hostility upon his face.

"I am sorry Lady Nimirher. I meant no disrespect."

"Oh…no, you did not disrespect me Prince Legolas. You simply startled me."

The elf prince smiled gently at her. He seemed slightly uncomfortable before her gaze but he slowly approached her anyway. "Your grip is too tight. The bow shifts within your grasp so you keep missing your target."

Nim dropped her gaze to the bow held tightly in her grasp. Her fingers bled white from the pressure she was placing upon the wood. Aragorn's laughter reached her ears as she stared dumbly at her childish mistake, "Shut up, Strider."

The ranger chuckled while he continued to smoke his pipe. Legolas clapped his friend upon the shoulder before he approached the young woman. He hadn't spoken to the girl since he had arrived. The emotions that she invoked within his body were unexpected and unpredictable. Fate played a rather significant role in the history of his people. They believed in the art of destiny and in his many years, he had yet to meet the mate for him. As a prince he was expected to marry amongst his people and amongst his rank. He only assumed that when his body found it's other half then it would be a elf lady of high stature. But for a fortnight, he remembered nothing but the face of the woman struggling before him. No one knew the origins she reigned from, not even Gandalf but he found that the distance he kept trying to keep between the both of them, shortened everyday.

His long legs carried him over to her distraught form. He didn't like the frailty of her figure as she stared down disappointingly. He had watched her practice with both Aragorn and the hobbits before. Fighting with her sword was second nature. Her body would sway effortlessly across the plain, her arm swinging wildly as she parried with the man that had quickly become her best friend. But unfortunately she didn't have much experience with archery, "Your stance is rather good but Aragorn is right when he says you need to concentrate. Try taking a deep breath and exhaling before you release."

Her beautiful face rose up to meet his; her cheeks tainted pink from her embarrassment. Nodding slightly in his direction, she notched her bow again; taking heed to his words. Her knuckles loosened; the skin turning back to their original color. Inhaling deeply, she took a few seconds to focus on her target being exhaling and letting it fly.

The quiet thud and beautiful smile upon her face let him know that she finally hit her target.

Nimirher backed slowly out of her memories, a small smile left upon her face. She hadn't realized she had lost herself to such a moment until she noticed the look left on the prince's face. He said nothing to notify her if he remembered such fond moments as well but she had never seen his eyes so blue before.

A silence fell over the crowd as Elrond slowly descended the staircase. His children followed behind him; their silence fueling the anxiety they were already feeling. Aragorn's stare remained upon Arwen; her eyes glossy with tears she refused to shed in front of him.

Legolas may not of been from the last homely house but he was saying goodbye to his kin. Their journey would take them away from what they knew and into lands far more dangerous than they could imagine. Everything that was familiar to them, anything that they held dear, would have to be left behind. No one knew if they would be coming back.

Elrond stared solemnly upon the group in front of him. He knew the pain his daughter was feeling. She had confidence in his fighting skills but they were even blind to the outcome of this war. The individuals standing so brave before them, were essentially sacrificing themselves.

"Farewell, and may the blessing of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you."