"Some gifts are big.
Others are small.
But the ones that come from the heart
are the best gifts of all."
-Tinku Razoria

The days in Lothlórien flowed like they had in Imladris; calmly they passed and Amelia was content to live them rather than count them. Her days had turned into a pleasant routine by the third. She rose when she pleased, ate breakfast with the Fellowship, where Gimli and Legolas would often depart early to wander the Golden Wood and converse with the Galadhrim. Then, she would train with Aragorn or Boromir, depending on whether she wished to do so before or after lunch, and she would read, wander around or even dance along with other elven ladies on top of hills and slopes covered in snowthorn and elanor. She laughed and felt her heart lift after the darkness of Moria's mines. Her nightmares ceased and, for a time, she was content.

She enjoyed two weeks of blessed complacency, even growing to not feel as much hate for the dresses offered to her by the elves as she felt a strong dislike, before a nightmare woke her up again, only she remembered what it had been about and no one had woken her but herself. She had not screamed or cried in her sleep, for it had not been of pain and battle, only ominous silence and a white city draped in solemn, black cloth. She had not jerked awake or fisted her bedsheets, but merely sat up as soon as she woke, eyes wide and mind wary and alert.

Remember…

The whisper could have been the wind rattling the golden leaves on the roof, but Amelia recognized an undertone that only the Lady of Light had ever had in her voice and she knew that she had not misheard or imagined it. At first, she groaned and clutched her head with her right hand, but then she sighed and rested her chin on her folded hands, thinking hard about why Lady Galadriel would have reminded her of that vision in particular.

"A white city in black…" Amelia knew that an entire city in mourning meant that someone important had died and thus, she could only conclude that it was Minas Tirith and not Osgiliath. "Denethor's mind went haywire. They'd be kind of obligated to mourn him." Amelia mumbled to herself, feeling that it was easier to air her thoughts than to keep them trapped within her own head, where they could swirl and grow, burdening her further. She could not see an explanation for the silence however, since it made the grief in the air tangible and real. The people weren't putting up black banners out of obligation. Their loss were felt keenly by them all. Then the realization struck and Amelia's eyes snapped to Boromir's sleeping form.

"Of course…" She mumbled. It made sense for the city to mourn him sincerely; he was a steadfast general, a good leader of their armies and a friend to the people, as well as the heir to Gondor if Aragorn didn't step forth.

He might as well have been a prince, loved by the people that he defended. Then, Amelia remembered the cloven horn of Gondor in Denethor's weathered hands and felt her throat constrict unexpectedly.

The guilt of Gandalf's death had been bad enough and it had required Frodo's help and Lórien's tranquility for it to heal.

She might not have much fondness for the son of Gondor, but she didn't want him to die.

"Don't even think about it." She hissed at herself and she heard Merry, who was the one sleeping nearest, stir from his slumber. Quickly, she pulled her covers up and turned away from him with closed eyes. To all who looked at her, it would look as if she had been asleep for hours. Finally, when it seemed as if she had gotten stuck on an ultimatum, she fell into an exhausted and uneasy sleep, only managing a few more hours before she woke yet again.

That day, the sound of a distant instrument, somewhere between a fiddle, bells and a violin sounded throughout the forest. Amelia flicked her head at it, as if it was a particularly annoying fly. She had been in a bad mood ever since she woke again and had been quick to throw on her pants and undershirt. She walked barefoot through the forest, looking for all intents and purposes as if she was heading off to take on the forces of Mordor herself, in an outfit that would be considered little more than undergarments.

"You missed your lesson." Aragorn's voice was curious rather than derogatory, even if it was chiding her gently. Amelia had stepped down a few steps and had nearly run into him.

"Aragorn?" Amelia nearly growled his name out and he looked a bit taken aback. "What would you do if you had to make a choice. One where, on the one hand, you had to choose between how you knew things were supposed to go, even if it felt hella wrong, and on the other, you could just roll with your gut and gamble with the fate of hundreds of people?" Then, she stopped and stared at him. "By all the… You do have to make such a choice! Kind of. Not really, but you do." Amelia had remembered Aragorn's choice as to whether he ought to doom Arwen to mortality or not. It wasn't the same, but in a way it was. "Okay, let me rephrase; you have to choose whether a person lives or dies. If they survive, it's gonna be good for a lot of people, but you know that it's the wrong choice and it might end up going all sorts of wrong. If they die, a lot of things are going to be put right, but it's going to hurt a lot of people."

"You're asking me this because another one of the Fellowship…" Aragorn began and Amelia waved her hands.

"Maybe, maybe not. Don't answer based on that. Just roll with me here." Aragorn hesitated and Amelia sighed. "Please?"

"You said it yourself." He answered. "If they are fated to die, it might be best to let them…" Then, the corner of his mouth turned upwards. "But you never seemed to care much for fate." Amelia stared at him as if he had suddenly declared that every day was Christmas, that he has just gifted her the sun and stars.

"That's right I don't!" She shouted, making a few birds fly up from their branches in fright. "Screw fate, destiny and the future, all of them!" She ran her hands through her hair and gave Aragorn a look with her slightly crazed eyes. "I need to attack something with a sword."

Aragorn was only too happy to oblige her and he led her back to their housing to gather equipment.

Arwen's style had been fluent, elegant and Amelia had adopted many of her traits. Aragorn's style was difficult to pinpoint, since it seemed as if he utilized both elvish and human style and something that was entirely his own, something that would throw any adversary off balance as they tried to determine his moves and got their hesitancy rewarded with a well-placed beheading or stabbing through the stomach.

Blocking her blows and disarming her was something Aragorn could have done blindfolded, with one hand tied on his back in high heels.

"You let your anger cloud your judgment." Aragorn told her time and again. "That might save your life against an orc," He whirled out of the way as Amelia tried to slash his side, "But it ruins whatever technique you might have picked up. Focus on what you know will work, not what you feel will work. Listen to your instincts, for they might save your life, but do not let them rule you." It continued like that for two hours, corrections to her stance, her assumptions, her everything.

Amelia was beginning to regret ever asking him to teach her in the first place, but she knew that she wouldn't regret it once she got in an actual fight again.

She swore as Aragorn disarmed her once again and went to pick up Aeglos from the ground.

"Aragorn?" Amelia asked as she picked up her blade and studied the runes on it. "Do you believe in destiny?" There was a heavy silence, where Aragorn seemed to think closely on his answer.

"I believe in the strength of our hearts and righteousness of our cause." He finally said. "Fate is irrelevant to me."
And thus, they resumed their lesson.

All in all, they dwelled in Lothlórien for much longer than Amelia ever would have thought. She found out the date was February 16th the day of their final departure from Lothlórien and she felt as optimistic as ever when they all walked down to the river that ran out into the Anduin, to say their final goodbyes to Lórien and her Lady of Light.
Galadriel arrived on the river, on a boat with the shape of a swan, with a golden harp in her hands and she sang her farewell to them as they stood and waited for her to come ashore. In her long hair was placed a circlet of golden flowers and her dress shone like freshly fallen snow.

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came, and in the branches blew.
Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.
There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,
And here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
O Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream, the river flows away.
O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?

It was a song of sorrow, but its beauty overshadowed its sadness as Galadriel and Celeborn, who had also been in the boat, walked ashore and stood before the Fellowship, who awaited their words in silence. Then, elves came forth, bearing light cloaks with green brooches, shaped like leaves twined in silver strands, and they fastened them around the necks of each member of the Fellowship.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people." Celeborn said thoughtfully. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

"Before you depart our lands, we have brought you gifts in our ship, to remind you of your time beneath our trees." Galadriel spoke and her servants carried forth bundles. They were also given three boats and when Amelia expressed doubts that they would fit or that the boats would be able to sail under their weight, she was assured that it would take the weight of many men to sink just one of the white boats.

To Aragorn, from Galadriel, was a brilliant gemstone on a chain, the Elfstone, that he put around his neck and Amelia caught a brief glimpse of the silvery Evenstar on his chest as well. Celeborn gifted him a fine, wide knife. To Boromir was a belt made of leaves of gold, a gift that he was honored to accept and he bowed to the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien after he received it. To Legolas, a quiver filled with the finest arrows and a bow strung with elven hair. To Merry and Pippin, handcrafted belts and a small dagger for each. To Sam, elven rope that would never snap unless it was cut and a small box with the letter "G" on the lid. It was filled with light soil and a single mallorn seed. For Frodo, a phial filled with the light of Eärendil, the most beloved star of the elves on the earth.

Then, Galadriel stopped in front of Amelia and her old eyes seemed to pierce Amelia. She didn't flinch from Galadriel's searching gaze.

"For you, Amelia Jones…" A tall guard stepped forth, carrying a small, grey box covered in velvet. "We have applied our best crafters in the making of this. This ring, whom we call cilya, the ring of choices, I have blessed. " The elf opened the lid and Amelia was momentarily puzzled to see it's contents. It was a white ring of what seemed to be mithril, decorated with elvish words inlaid in silver. She had never been much of a jewelry person, but she accepted it with an inclination of her head, and yet it seemed that Galadriel wasn't quite finished. "May it show you the way when times are uncertain." She wished Amelia ominously and the human blinked at the elf, but she had already moved onto Gimli and voiced her uncertainty as to which gift she ought to present him with.

Amelia had to turn away to hide her smile from the dwarf. The ring was, of course, a perfect fit and she was proud to put her ring on her left ringfinger.

Aragorn rowed the boat holding Frodo and Sam and Boromir the one holding Merry and Pippin. That left Amelia in the one rowed by Legolas. The elf sat in the back, then Amelia in the middle and Gimli in the front. The dwarf had a reverent expression on his face and Amelia knew that he was still overwhelmed by Galadriel's generosity and benevolence.

"Lembas!" Legolas held up one of the small, light pieces of bread from the packs packed in the boats. Gimli, Amelia, Merry, Pippin, Sam and Frodo were all sitting in the boats, waiting for Legolas, Boromir and Aragorn. "Elvish waybread." Legolas nipped at the bread as Merry and Pippin watched him with interest. "One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man." Pippin nodded politely and Amelia watched him and his best friend closely.

"How many did you eat?" Merry mumbled to Pippin.

"Four." He answered and Amelia stifled a laugh at the two hobbits. Then, she sobered and pulled her backpack off her shoulders. She glanced at the packs of lembas and made some quick math as to how much lembas how many people would need for a certain amount of time. She grabbed two packs of it when no one looked and stuffed them hastily into her backpack. Then, she got the feeling that someone was watching her and she looked up to see Galadriel watching her from the riverbank. Amelia looked down, breaking eye contact and she sat in her boat obediently with her hands in her lap, uncharacteristically quiet.

As they set off from the shore, rows of elves watching them from the bank, Amelia looked back to see Galadriel's hand raised in farewell. Golden leaves fell on the river as Legolas, Boromir and Aragorn rowed them down the stream, away from their sanctuary of nearly a month, and Amelia shuddered slightly as she felt as if she was slipping out of a dream, a dream that she didn't want to wake from.

"This is awful." She groaned loudly and she heard Legolas sigh wistfully.

"The woods of Lothlórien may be elven lands, but perhaps we shall return one day."

"What? No, I meant this boat. I feel like I'm going to get a dip in the Anduin any second. I'd prefer riding a horse compared to this!" Amelia sat stiffly in the boat, not daring to lean or turn for fear of falling into the water. She could feel the river lapping at the sides of the boat and she shuddered dramatically.

Legolas, Boromir and Aragorn were all strong of arm and they rowed with rueful determination and thus, they quickly reached the main river and Lothlórien became only a distant glimpse of gold among green trees. After the warmth of the forest, being out on the river felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on Amelia.

Amelia got the uncomfortable feeling that they were both being watched and followed. When she dared glance backwards, she couldn't see anything other than a few logs floating in the wake and the green oaks on both sides of the river. She started feeling stiff and cold, but knew that she couldn't stretch, since she was sitting in a canoe.
As Gimli revealed that Galadriel had given him three hairs and not merely one, Amelia looked back to see Legolas smiling warmly at the dwarf and she knew that the two would become good friends if they weren't already.

She gasped slightly as a flock of birds flew up from the trees on the eastern shore, as if something had spooked them and tried to relieve the tension in her body by rolling her shoulders. She had changed back into the clothes she had worn for months by then, even if their state was far more ragged than it had been when she arrived in Middle-Earth, and her sword lay across her lap. She glanced down at Cilya and saw it gleaming faintly. She looked away, then rested her eyes on Boromir's broad back and, once again, doubts began to gnaw at her.

When evening began to fall, Aragorn steered his boat towards the eastern shore and Boromir and Legolas followed him, jumping out of the boats to pull them up on the shore. Amelia was glad to get out of her seat and jump around on her feet, trying to get her blood rushing once again. Stars began to gleam in the sky, grey clouds covering parts of it and Aragorn warned the Fellowship not to start any fires, for fear of alerting unfriendly eyes to their position. He gave Merry, Pippin and Sam an especially stern look as he said it.

The lembas was much lighter and sweeter than Amelia had expected. It was true that, after one small bite she felt as full as she had after eating from the feasts served to her in Rivendell and Lórien.

"Only the queen may give lembas as a gift to travelers." Legolas told her as they shared a piece of lembas. Merry, Pippin and Gimli had all fallen asleep already.

"Fancy." Amelia muttered and glanced over at where Boromir was looking out over the river, half-hidden behind a large rock. With a frown, she saw Aragorn approach him. She vaguely heard the words "Gollum" and "clever", but she was too far away to hear their full sentences. With a frown, she got to her feet and approached them. Then, her eyes caught a whiff of movement and she saw a grey hand, with long fingers disappear behind a log floating on the river.

"And if he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts?" Boromir asked Aragorn as she slowly walked towards them. Then, he said something that Amelia couldn't quite hear and turned towards Aragorn. She could hear Sam attempt to get Frodo to eat something or at least sleep, but Frodo pushed him away. "Minas Tirith is a safer road. You know that." Boromir told Aragorn, who didn't answer him. "From there we can regroup. Strike out at Mordor from a place of strength." He spoke intently, once again attempting to direct the Fellowship towards the white city.

"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us." Aragorn answered him quietly.

"You were quick enough to trust the elves!" Boromir exclaimed, raising his voice. Amelia sped up her pace. "Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness, there is frailty, but there is courage also, and honor to be found in men, but you will not see that!" Aragorn turned and tried to walk away, but Boromir grabbed him roughly before he could. "You are afraid!" He accused angrily. "All your life, you have hidden in the shadows, scared of who you are, what you are!"

"Hey!" Amelia hissed as she rushed forwards to break them apart. "Knock it off, will you?"

"I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city!" Aragorn suddenly hissed at Boromir before he turned away and Amelia was tempted to whop him on the head as he passed. Instead, she turned back to Boromir, who was glaring daggers at Aragorn's back.

"One day, can we please go one day without you two butting heads?" She threw her arms out. "Evidently not! For God's sake, Boromir, for a man who claims that the men of Gondor are courageous and honorable, you sure do a poor job of showing it!" She stomped back to her seat beside Legolas, chest heaving as if she had run a marathon.

"Is something wrong?" She heard Legolas ask her innocently and she snorted.

"Nope. I'm just peachy."