"Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty."
-Mother Teresa

When Amelia received her change of clothes after her hot bath, courtesy of her overly polite hosts, she made a horrid shriek that echoed ominously in the spacy rooms.

"My lady? Is everything alright?" A softly-spoken voice asked from the other room, where a dark-haired elf waited, ready to help if Amelia requested it.

"This… I can't wear this!" Amelia exclaimed loudly as she glared at the neatly folded dress. She cursed as she realized that the elves had taken her old clothes, presumably for washing, and that the dress was her only option.

"Is it the wrong size, Lady Amelia?"

"No, it's not that, I just…" Amelia huffed and crossed her wet arms beneath her bared chest. She was still naked, standing on the edge of the spacious tub. "All the guys get to wear what they arrived in, why can't I? Just some pants or something, that's fine, I mean…"

"My lady…" The elf, Calithileth, sounded cautious. "Anyone, and not just a Lady, should be presentable during such an important meeting-"

"Ah, to hell with it. I can't very well go naked, can I?" Amelia exclaimed. Then, a wicked smile crossed her face. She rubbed her hands together conspiratorially. She had always had a flair for the dramatic, but not one that she let show often. "Or I could actually go naked. Bet that would get attention."

"My lady!" Calithileth exclaimed, sounding surprised by her boldness, even as the overtone of her voice continued to be smooth and pleasant. Amelia wanted to laugh, but she didn't. She couldn't quite get it out and, she considered, starting her own feminist crusade probably wouldn't get her anywhere.

As it turned out, getting into the dress presented a challenge all its own.

"How do you…" Amelia humphed and blew out an exasperated breath. "Why are there so many skirts?"

"Allow me to help, my lady." The elf offered again and Amelia reluctantly accepted her help. As it turned out, the dress had several layers. A white kirtle with a light blue pattern matching Amelia's eyes had to go on first. Its sleeves went to Amelia's wrists and it had a high, tight neckline. Amelia half-wondered whether an elf had read her mind to find her preferred style. A white, slightly transparent surcoat went over it and a belt made of silvery leaves finished it off. The outfit felt tight and ridiculous on her and to have some reassurance that she was still under it somewhere, Amelia stubbornly refused having red beeswax dapped on her lips, turned down the offered assistance with her hair and insisted on wearing her black, fingerless gloves to the meeting. The poor elf nearly fainted when Amelia bolted from the room, with the announcement that she was going barefoot ringing behind her.

As she ran in her triumph, she realized that she had still had a green hairband around her wrist and she tied her hair back in a low, sloppy tail before marching on, with no shoes, winter gloves and a fine dress, feeling as though she had dressed as and was a warrior.

The Lord of Rivendell wasn't at all like what he had been in the movie adaptations, even if Amelia could see some slight physical likeness. It was rather the feeling of slight awe, loyalty and sheer comfort that he inspired with his old eyes set in a much younger face. He instantly seemed like a man one would trust to lead one to victory or to lead a people into a prosperous future. Since Amelia couldn't exactly place what inspired that feeling about him, she felt vaguely uncomfortable around him, but couldn't bring herself to outright dislike him. She didn't like that she was unable to dislike him, but, after all, that didn't mean that she had to like him.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old…" Lord Elrond began gravely, "You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor."

However, as the Council dragged on, Amelia found herself immensely bored, since she could mouth the men's lines before they opened their mouths. She was seated beside a man with dark brown hair reaching his jaw, scruff on his face and dark clothes without a sigil to signify where he was from. His grey eyes shone like stars all on their own.

However, her eyes were trained on the pedestal in the middle of the circle they sat in when a hobbit, nearly identical to how he had been portrayed in the movie that she remembered most of, carefully put a heavy gold band there. The sight of the thing was enough to ring every alarm bell in Amelia's head instantly. It looked completely harmless and felt just so, but Amelia knew enough about it to be on her guard instantly.

"Miss?" The man beside her mumbled lowly and Amelia realized that she had tensed up as soon as she saw it.

"'M fine. It's nothing." She mumbled back and cast Boromir a suspicious glance as he rose and spoke of his dreams and reached for the ring. She was one of the few who didn't look horrified when Gandalf stood up from his seat abruptly and shouted words in a dark language that made the sky darken and distant thunder clash. She shuffled in her seat when a loud clang came as Gimli, whose beard was much more impressive than Amelia could have ever anticipated, shattered his axe in an attempt to destroy the ring.

"Idiot." Amelia mumbled at him and resolved to pay more attention to what was going on around her. Unfortunately, the dwarf had good hearing.

"Idiot?!" He exclaimed as he got to his feet with the help of his kinsmen. "You're one to talk! I was not aware that a woman would be present at this meeting." He looked suspicious at the mere fact of her existence and Amelia gave him an unimpressed look.

"Neither was I, but here we are. So we'd better make the best of it, yeah?"

"I should warn each and every one of you here," Gandalf interrupted softly, but his voice got everyone's attention, "That where Miss Amelia here is from, men and women are treated as absolute equals." This seemed difficult for most to wrap their heads around, but Elrond nodded his dark-haired head calmly, as if this was old news.

"How curious." Someone, a greying human man, mumbled and most nodded. Amelia narrowed her eyes at him, marking him down in her mentality.

"Don't you think we have better things to discuss than what's between my legs right now?" She snapped. She could have sworn she made some of the dwarves blush beneath their beards. She scowled at the ring, still gleaming prettily upon its pedestal. "Like how we're actually going to destroy this damn thing without getting killed in the process?" She gave the pieces of shattered axe on the ground a pointed look and Gimli grumbled.

"The ring cannot be destroyed by any weapons that we possess, Amelia Jones." Elrond stated calmly and it took Amelia a moment to realize that the line intended as a gentle scolding to Gimli had been turned on her.

"It is a gift." She heard Boromir speak and turned her head to look at him with her eyes narrowed to slits. "A gift to the foes of Mordor!" He stood up, obviously passionate about what he was talking about. "Why not use this ring?!" Amelia felt an overwhelming urge to beat her head against a wall. "Long has my father, the steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe!" He pointed an accusatory finger at each member of the Council. "Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

"You cannot wield it! None of us can." The man beside her exclaimed and Amelia took a good look at him, surprised as she realized his identity. Even though he looked like he had spent many hours in the wild, his eyes were clear, shining with determination and his face had an air of nobility about it. Unintentional, perhaps, but nevertheless it was there, hiding beneath the surface. "The ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

"Bingo." Amelia felt that it was prudent to voice her agreement. In her mind, the guy needed some show of support. "I mean, I agree. That thing's evil." Amelia barely realized that, in the tale that she knew, Boromir had called the ring a gift before Gimli had shattered his axe. The order of events had changed, somehow, a thing that would later cause her much nervousness and sleepless nights. "And not just because it was made by the biggest, baddest twat of them all. It has a will all its own."

"And what would a ranger and a woman know of this matter?" Boromir challenged and Amelia rolled her eyes as her next words flew out of her before she could stop them.

"More than a little steward's son trying to impress his daddy by bringing home a pretty bauble, that's what." She knew instantly she had made a mistake. The other men tensed up, the elves looked shocked and worried, their serene faces marred by their emotional expressions, but the dwarves had raised their eyebrows and Gimli was the one to break the ringing silence.

"I take back my hasty words. This one definitely has a place here." Amelia gave him a surprised look and saw that his eyes twinkled beneath their bushy eyebrows.

"And this is no mere ranger." A fair-haired elf said calmly. Amelia was pleasantly surprised to see that he did not lose his temper by standing up. He simply spoke fact and he knew it. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance." Boromir definitely didn't look happy about that.

"Aragorn?" He repeated as he cast a dubious glance at the man. "This… is Isildur's heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor." Legolas added, still utterly calm. Boromir looked incredibly skeptical, but if he was uncomfortable, it was nothing compared to how Aragorn looked. He shook his head at Legolas and bade him stop in elvish. Amelia was unable to understand the exact wording, but the intention of the short sentence was understood well enough from its tone.

"Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king." Boromir finished darkly as he sat down again and Amelia rubbed her forehead with a sigh.

"Aragorn is right. We cannot use it." Gandalf spoke.

"You have only one choice. The ring must be destroyed." Elrond said once again, more intently than the first time. Amelia glanced over at Frodo and saw that he was pale, with his eyes fluttering from the ring to Boromir and back again. "The ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." His eyes looked at each member of the Council individually. "One of you must do this."

Silence rang out.

"One does not simply walk into Mordor." Boromir sighed irritably and Amelia nearly giggled at the line. No one paid her any mind. "Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great eye is ever watchful." He launched into a rather ominous description of the land, one that would have impressed Amelia, had her sister-in-law not spoiled it by making her watch that exact scene one too many times. "It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this." Boromir shook his head. "It is folly."

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" Legolas exclaimed as he lost his patience and stood up, speaking loudly. "The ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you'll be the one to do this?" Gimli challenged in hostility.

"And if we fail, what then?" Boromir shouted, getting to his feet again, along with the dwarf. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

"I will die before I see the ring in the hands of an elf!" Gimli yelled hoarsely and all hell broke loose. Aragorn, Amelia, Frodo, and Elrond were the only ones who remained seated as elves, dwarves and men got to their feet to shout nonsensical slurs at each other. Even Gandalf got up to participate in the shouting, though it was in an attempt to speak sense.

In all the yelling, Amelia sighed loudly and looked at the ring again as Aragorn looked down and shook his head slightly. The ring, gleaming gold, lay innocently and distant whispers managed to tune out the sound of yelling in Amelia's ears. As she looked at it, fire flashed behind her blue eyes and the stench of rotten and burning flesh and ash suddenly filled her nostrils. With a gasp she was drawn back to reality and felt Aragorn's hand on her shoulder.

"Are you well? You look pale." He stated and Amelia realized she was sitting on the edge of her seat, clutching it with both her hands. She blinked and found she her breathing was quick, her palms were sweaty and muscles she didn't even know she had had tensed up. She didn't answer.

"I will take it." Frodo suddenly stood up to his full, unimpressive height. He looked nervous, but determined. "I will take the ring to Mordor. Though… I do not know the way." Finally, the arguing ceased into silence. Gandalf looked reluctant, as if this was exactly the opposite outcome of the one he had hoped to avoid, and yet his support for the hobbit was instant and unwavering.

"I will help you bear it, Frodo Baggins… as long as it is yours to bear." He rested a hand on Frodo's shoulder and stood behind him. Finally, Aragorn stood up and spoke quietly, with everyone able to hear him.

"If by my life or death I can protect you, I will." He declared calmly. He came over and knelt in front of Frodo, looking into his eyes. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow." Legolas added, joining the hobbit, wizard and man where they stood.

"And my axe." Gimli added. Then, he glanced at the shard of axe around him. "Or what's left of it." He added warmly. Amelia nearly smiled, even if she was still reeling from the power of the ring. Boromir approached the forming fellowship slowly, speaking carefully.

"You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council… then Gondor will see it done."

"Hey!" A timid voice yelled and a chubby hobbit in a cream vest darted out from behind a large, potted plant. "Mister Frodo's not going anywhere without me." He exclaimed as he crossed his arms and stood beside his friend.

"No, indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret Council and you are not." Amelia hid her chortle with a fake cough, distracted briefly from her curious staring at Samwise Gamgee.

"Oi! We're coming too!" Amelia heard Merry yell and Elrond looked exasperated as two hobbits more darted past him to join the fellowship. "You'll have to send us home, tied up in a sack to stop us!" Frodo smiled gratefully at their support, even as he seemed a tad embarrassed.

"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of… mission… quest thing." Pippin added with confidence and Amelia saw him wince as Merry elbowed him. She caught Gandalf's eye.

"Indeed we do." He agreed with a smile and Amelia got the distinct sense that he wanted her to join them. She shook her head slightly.

"Well, that rules you out, Pip." Merry chirped and Amelia actually laughed at their banter.

"Nine companions…" Elrond mumbled and Amelia felt like something was slipping through her fingers, like sand or smoke. "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring." He declared grandly.

"Right." Pippin agreed excitedly. "Where are we going?"

"Oh my god." Amelia hid her smile in her hands. No one, with the exception of her brothers, had made her smile so easily before.

The elves may have been terrible with their dresscoding, but they were excellent with their nightgowns. Simple enough not to be considered suitable as normal clothing, but still so fine that it made Amelia feel comfortable in her own skin again. Her normal pajamas certainly didn't have long, flowing sleeves.
But she still couldn't sleep, no matter how fine her dress was or how comfortable her bed happened to be.

Rivendell had a tranquil air about it that seemed beautiful in daylight, but seemed to press down on Amelia. She wanted to hug Bruno and give him a late snack, she wanted to call her parents for the first time in months and she wanted, plainly, to go back home, to cellphones and microwaves and electricity.
Instead, she wandered randomly through the hallways of Rivendell like a ghost. She was aware that that would have consequences in the morning, but she felt that she had earned the right to sleep in.

She rounded a corner and stopped abruptly, folding her arms around herself and suddenly humbled.

The tall statue of a womanly figure stood behind a pedestal covered in a violet cloth. Upon it lay sharp, gleaming shards of metal and the hilt of a sword.
Amelia approached it slowly, as if it was a dangerous animal snarling at her, and she eyed the remains of Narsil wearily. She glanced up at the empty eyes of the woman standing guard over the broken sword. Then, she looked to her right and saw Aragorn watching her calmly. He sat with a book, clad in black in silver, and his hair framed his face. His grey eyes were sharp as he looked on her, as silent as the statue standing guard over the broken blade. Oddly enough, she felt grateful that he hadn't spoken yet.

"I know what this is." Amelia turned her attention back to the broken pieces, choosing her words carefully. "And the story."

"It is a tale told by many." Aragorn merely answered and Amelia frowned in contemplation. She thought aloud, still choosing her words carefully, yet still voicing her thoughts, albeit cryptically.

"I shouldn't be here. This story, this… fairytale, it's… it might not be real back home, but it feels pretty real now, here, in this moment."

"You do not believe that the defeat of Sauron transpired?" Aragorn asked, puzzled, and Amelia hesitated with her answer. He didn't seem surprised to see her up and awake so late in the night.

"I believe it transpired here. As to whether it actually, truly happened… I don't know. I just don't know. And I don't like not knowing."

"So you think you're living a dream." Amelia was surprised at how quickly Aragorn had picked up on that. He certainly wasn't stupid.

"Kind of. It's hard to explain. It's probably best if I don't." Amelia bit the inside of her cheek softly. "I just… everyone here came of their own volition. Maybe. Frodo and his friends came reluctantly, but… they volunteered to go to Mordor at least. I didn't get any choice. I mean, it's nice here, but I'm all alone, kind of, and it would have been nice to…to-"

"To choose your fate for yourself." Aragorn nodded slowly. "I understand." Amelia shrugged and grimaced slightly.

"I don't think this is fate. I never really believe in all that rot. I mean, if all our actions are decided already… we don't even belong to ourselves." Amelia shook her head. "But, anyways, that's enough philosophy for one night. I think I'll just… go back to my room. God, I miss Bruno."

"Your husband?" Amelia made a loud 'ha!' at Aragorn's question.

"God, no. I prefer me and myself, alone. I'm not good at… love. Peopling in general. Bruno's my cat. And I'll die alone and that's that."

"Seems a lonely life to lead." He didn't seem to judge her for her lifestyle, a quality she had found was rare when she told people that she had no interest in marriage or children.

"Lonely's what I do best." Amelia shrugged. "G'night." She skipped away before Aragorn asked her about herself further.

She ended up raiding a larder to pass the time.