"Crying is all right in its way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do."
- C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair
Amelia was torn out of turbulent dreams when a hand shook her so roughly she nearly fell out of her bed. She noticed that her chest was heaving, deeply and quickly, that her palms were sweaty and fisting the fine sheets and that her mouth had been open, as if she had been yelling. She closed it shut and blinked at her bleary surroundings.
Merry and Pippin, both with messy hair, were sitting on her bed beside her, with large eyes and she saw that the entire Fellowship was awake and staring at her, most still in their beds.
"What are you staring at?" She asked, but her voice broke in the first word and she had to clear her throat.
"You were having a nightmare." Legolas explained with concern. "Do you not remember?" Amelia shook her head slowly and looked at the others.
"What did you dream about?" Pippin asked, seemingly not understanding that Amelia couldn't remember.
"I haven't got the foggiest, Pippin." Amelia rubbed her face with her hand.
"Well, whatever it was, it made you scream bloody murder." Gimli grumbled from where he had pulled his sheets up to cover his head. Amelia shuffled uncomfortably, trying to banish the sleep fully from her limbs.
"Sorry about that." She made her voice purposefully right. "You guys go back to sleep, alright? I'll just… take a walk. It helps me think." Then, suddenly, she smirked. "Ironically, it's what got me into this mess to begin with."
Her clothes had yet to be returned to her, since it was still in the middle of the night, but a flowing, red dress had been lain out for her, draped elegantly over a chair. Amelia wasn't stupid enough to assume that the elves had chosen the color only because it would look good on her, even if it did. All inhabitants of Lothlórien wore white, gold or blue colors. Red would mark her as a foreigner to them.
"So, they colorcode their guests." Amelia mumbled as she strode down the stair leading to the forest floor, with bare feet and loose hair. Her underwear and the dress was all she wore. "That didn't happen canonically for sure."
Amelia didn't get much thinking done, wandering in the forest. Rather, it was as if all thoughts fled from her mind as her feet carried her where they willed her to go, her eyes saw what they wanted to see and her world shrunk until it was just her in a red dress, wandering through the most beautiful forest ever seen by mortal eyes, in the quiet hours before dawn comes to the world.
Then, after an indeterminate amount of time spent wandering Lothlórien, she caught sight of something white and blinked, coming back into reality. It had moved between the trees and Amelia was reminded of the first time she had seen an elf. Then, it came again, a white figure with hair like a river of gold walking among the mallorns, her back turned towards Amelia. She got the distinct sense that Galadriel's appearance to her was not one of coincidence and, reluctantly, followed the Lady of Light through the woods at a good distance, neither one of them calling out to the other. Then, Galadriel went down a staircase and Amelia momentarily lost sight of her until she reached the stair herself and stopped abruptly.
She knew the place Galadriel had led her to. It was the location of her mirror.
"Why am I here?" Her voice was hard as Galadriel poured water into the basin and locked eyes with Amelia.
"Many have tried to ask you that question and guess at the answer themselves… but do you know the answer yourself?" Galadriel asked in her serene voice and Amelia gave her no answer. Only a cold look. "Look into the mirror… And I may offer you a glimpse of the path you have walked up until now and some of what it may yet come to give you." Amelia narrowed her eyes at the elf. She would turn and leave if the Lady of Light ordered her to do something, but if it was an offer that she could voluntarily walk away from, then perhaps she would be more inclined to take it. Remembering the horrifying visions that Frodo had seen himself, she hesitated, but curiosity got the better of her and she stepped forwards, slowly, under Galadriel's scrutiny and stood in front of the mirror, gazing down into it. She did not bend over, but stood tall and stiffly, only bending her head downwards.
For a single moment of silence, all she saw was her own reflection, looking up at her, but then the depths of the water swirled, writhed and shaped itself into an image of her own past.
She was twelve and young of heart, furiously scribbling down notes in class as she tried to copy down each of the teacher's words. She was one of the only students, alongside a few others, who paid enough attention to such detail. Her hair was greasy and her sleeves were so long that she had to roll them up to free her hands for writing. Someone threw a paper ball at her head and she glared at them. Then, the water rippled and she was seventeen, swimming in a public swimming pool and shrieking as she came under the combined assault of Sebastian and Tobias splashing at her. She laughed and dived, cutting herself off from the rest of the world and she smiled. She wore purple goggles.
The images came more rapidly, of her first day as a barista, of thanksgiving with her father and extended family and finally, herself lying on her back next to a campfire and staring upwards at the starry sky, the Fellowship lying around her.
Then came one that she didn't recognize and her eyes widened slightly in alarm. It was her own face, snarling in aggression and swinging Aeglos wildly. Her hair was in a ponytail, but it was loose and she had blood dripping down the side of her face. She stood on a slope covered in brown leaves, surrounded by trees, but Amelia couldn't see what she was hacking so furiously at.
Then, the scenery changed, but the new one was more of a flash than an image. It was her own face, her eyes drooping, her lips parted, and her sweaty skin having a grey pallor. She looked like she was dead and that unsettled Amelia more than she could say.
The final image was the longest one. It was a street in a city, with white cobblestone and white houses and market stalls, but it was devoid of any people. It looked desolate, recently abandoned, but even without any inhabitants the solid, strong architecture was impressive. Amelia assumed that it was Osgiliath or Minas Tirith, but then, she noticed another thing. Black drapings hung from every window. In the distance, flags and pennants bore black cloth as well. It was a city in mourning, with a crushed spirit. Then, the image faded and Amelia was looking into her own blue eyes once again.
Her face snapped up to see Galadriel watching her closely. Amelia met her gaze unflinchingly.
"That pretty much tells me nothing." She knew that she was being rude, but couldn't help it. The image of her own body kept flashing behind her eyes and it didn't do much to calm her nerves. "I mean yeah, sure, I'm gonna get in a fight and probably die in the process, I don't need a magic mirror to tell you that." She snapped and Galadriel didn't answer her. She took a deep breath and looked down. "That was out of line."
"The mirror shows us many things." Galadriel stated and broke eye contact with Amelia to look up towards the treetops. "We may all spy into the future, but to interpret it quickly turns into guesswork." Amelia shook her head and took a step backwards.
"You're… that's not the future." She hissed angrily. "My future is not determined by… by fate or destiny or any of that!" She lowered her voice. "I make my own choices."
"Indeed you do, Amelia Aiano." Galadriel took a small step forwards, resting her hands on either side of her mirror. Amelia caught sight of Nenya twinkling like a fallen star on Galadriel's hand. "As one of the very few in Middle-Earth, you are free to forge your own future. That is what makes you such a danger." Galadriel turned her palms towards the mirror. "When I attempt to look in the mirror, I see many things, but you are not one of them."
"So I'm an enigma to you." Amelia felt oddly triumphant. "An unknown. And you don't like it."
"I will not deny that it brings me unease." Galadriel bowed her golden head. "I ask you only to consider this; be weary of choices and their consequences. They are rarely what you expect."
"Sometimes, all you can do is what you think is right, damn the consequences all to hell." Amelia backed away, turned and fled from Galadriel, who had her eyes trained on the human until she disappeared amidst the trees.
Amelia ran. Ran from Galadriel and her mirror, ran from the Fellowship of the Ring, ran from Middle-Earth and the image of her death, but they all followed her, weighing her down like boulders she was unable to put off her shoulders. She stumbled and fell, as long as she was, golden leaves getting caught in her hair. No one came to help her up as she pulled herself up and collapsed between two white treeroots, finally allowing herself to sob to her heart's content and still, the elves sung, their voices echoing around and within Amelia.
When her tears were spent and dried, when it seemed as if she had been sitting and sobbing into her hands for hours, she resolved to staring into nothingness, letting her chin rest on her knees. Then, when it seemed as if she was going to sit there for all eternity, her body jerked and she got to her feet, painstakingly slow. With stiff movements, she made her way back to the canopy the Fellowship had been assigned to, getting a few odd looks from passing elves on the way. When she came up the staircase, her face as pale as marble and her fingertips and toes blue from the chill, she saw Merry, Pippin, Gimli and Aragorn arguing amongst themselves in low voices, but they stopped when they saw her.
"Amelia!" Pippin exclaimed and Aragorn raised his eyebrows at her.
"You've been gone for hours." He called to her and she pointedly ignored him, heading straight for her own bed and crawling into it, wishing that it could hide her from everything evil in the world.
When Amelia woke, the events of the night seemed silly and insignificant. The others worried about her, the hobbits especially so, but she waved off their concerns, insisting that she was fine. When Aragorn pressed her on the issue, she refused to budge, pushing him away. Gimli was quick and glad to put the matter to rest and quickly launched into an epic tale of how his father had been a part of the expedition to reclaim the Lonely Mountain. Amelia was only too happy to let him distract her, even if she felt like correcting the dwarf when he swore up and down that it was a member of the company and not a human man who had slain Smaug.
He kept telling her stories as breakfast was served and Amelia was glad to pull on her normal clothes. The elves had even mended the tears in her sweater and supplied another pair of socks along with the old ones.
"Amelia." She heard Frodo's voice say her name and she turned towards him. He was standing a few feet away from her chair, giving her a nervous look. "Can I talk to you?" Amelia had meant to talk to Aragorn and Boromir as soon as she could tell Gimli to be silent, but when Frodo requested a moment of her time she immediately stood up and followed him, ignoring Gimli completely in the process. Frodo walked slowly and led her on a destinationless walk on the paths once again.
"You wanted to talk?" Amelia broke the heavy silence between them and Frodo sighed.
"You've said that you know… things. That you can't predict the future, but… you know of it." Amelia nodded slowly, disliking the direction of their conversation. "Did you know that Gandalf…" Amelia couldn't lie to him, despite her promise to herself that she would. Had it been anyone else, she would have lied to their face, but Frodo deserved the truth.
"I did." She confessed quietly and Frodo's eyebrows knitted together. "And, if you believe that, you have to believe that there was nothing I could have done."
"You think I blame you?" Amelia stared at the hobbit, who seemed lost in thought once again. "I saw the balrog and… a warning would have done us well, but… I don't think there was anything you could have done." Every word seemed to pain Frodo, but they had the opposite effect on Amelia. His words seemed to chip away at the guilt writhing constantly within her, piece by piece.
"Thanks." Amelia meant it when she said it. "But… since you're so nice about not blaming me, I think I should return the favor. You might have made the decision to go to Moria, Frodo, but it was the right one." Frodo looked away, but Amelia pressed on. "If you hadn't, we'd all be dead, Gandalf included. You didn't condemn him, Frodo, you… you saved us. Sometimes, there simply aren't any good decisions and all you can do is try to lessen the harm you cause." Frodo nodded slowly, but Amelia got the feeling that she hadn't gotten through to him. "Now, I'm really sorry, but I need to talk to Aragorn. Think you'll be alright?" The hobbit didn't answer and didn't follow her as she returned to where the Fellowship ate breakfast.
She saw Boromir engrossed in a conversation with Legolas and she overheard enough to know that he was attempting to assure the elf that aging and inevitable death was not as bad as it seemed.
"Aragorn! Boromir!" She called and they looked up as she strode into the hall, her steps long. "Get yourselves up and about. I need to talk to you."
"Can a man not eat his food in peace?" Boromir grumbled and Amelia grinned at him, feeling the lightest she had since Moria.
"Not today, he can't. Besides, you're nearly finished!"
"Is something wrong?" Aragorn asked as he stood up and Amelia shook her head.
"No, no, I just need to ask you both something. It's pretty important. So get up!" She clapped her hands at Boromir, who had begun to nod off and she noticed Legolas trying to suppress a smile at her antics. Aragorn, who was wide awake and ready for the day, waited patiently as Boromir shoved one last bite of raspberries and eggs in before he stood up to follow her. Amelia noticed that, for once, he was actually not carrying his broad sword, but the horn of Gondor hadn't left his belt.
Amelia chattered away as the two men followed her outside.
"So, Boromir, I already told you that Moria was my first fight and all, done deal, we're over that." Aragorn looked a bit confused, but not surprised. "And I got through that alright, considering, but I might not be so lucky next time and I know there will be a next time, remember?" She tapped her temple. "So, you two use swords, all high and holy, so I figured 'well, shoot, I can't keep placing my bets on adrenaline', so…" She stopped her rapid speech and whirled around. "Can you teach me how to use a sword?"
"You needed only ever ask." Aragorn had a hint of a smile, though Boromir looked a bit more serious.
"I'm sure Aragorn can teach you himself." He stated and Amelia slapped her forehead.
"Well, sure he could, but I'm asking you too. Make of that what you will. And you taught Merry and Pippin pretty well, wrestling not included." Boromir hesitated. "Would it help if I promised not to tackle you?" Boromir sighed.
"You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Nope. I'm going to keep pestering and bugging and annoying the living daylights out of you until you give up."
"So nothing's going to change then." Amelia snorted at him, unable to wrap her head around his reasonably witty comeback.
"Buddy, you've seen me in my pleasant moods so far. I'm told I'm as stubborn as a mule once I've selected a victim of my malicious machinations."
"On that, at least, we can agree." Amelia was grinning by then, the smile lighting up her face and easing the tension that had been collecting there in the times where she had only frowned, glared or contemplated matters, without finding any reason to smile. Aragorn was watching them in fascination.
"Does that mean you'll agree to hack at me with a sword until I yield?"
"When you frame it that way, Miss, how can I refuse?"
"Amelia."
"Pardon?"
"Name's Amelia. All that 'Miss' and 'My Lady' and titles and eurgh. Not really my cup of tea. Besides, if you call me that, I'm going to start calling you something like Lord Broody McBroodypants, and then you'll be sorry."
"I do not brood."
"You totally brood. And when you do, you have this set jaw and sour expression, like you're prepared to duel someone for nicking your bagel."
"You have a strange perception of what gives cause for a duel."
"I prefer the term 'unique', but sure, whatever rows your boat. Thanks for the talk. Real interesting. Did you save anymore bacon for me?"
"We travel with four hobbits." Aragorn interjected dryly. "I don't believe that leaving leftovers is a particular skill of theirs."
"Then I'd better get in there quick. I appreciate it and besides, since I'm always so annoying, you can enjoy attacking me with your oversized butterknives at least once a day." Amelia skipped back towards the hall in mighty high spirits. She thought she heard Aragorn saying something to Boromir, but when she looked back with a smile they were following her at a slower pace, in silence.
"Did you guys save anything for me?" Amelia dumped into her seat and Gimli raised his bushy eyebrows at her.
"Someone's certainly cheery today."
"But I won't be for much longer if I don't get something to eat. Pass the eggs, will you?"
That evening, when she went to sleep sore and bruised after Aragorn's expertly and Boromir's decent tutoring, she had no nightmares and slept soundly through the night.
A/N: For some reason, it refused to let me upload this for a while. Hope you enjoy this delayed chapter though!