Darren woke up in a sweat. What was that? He wondered, All I remember is Mirra, something about Mirra. He shook his head to clear it and stood up, stumbling over to the log, where Gandalf, who was now on watch, sat smoking his pipe. The rest of the Fellowship was sleeping as soundly as one could sleep on the forest floor, Mirra occasionally moaned in her sleep.

"Did you have a nightmare, Master Darren?" Gandalf asked between puffs, giving Darren a look.

Darren nodded. "It is not the first time. I was up half the night last night as well." He admitted, running a hand through his rumpled hair. "It is the same dream."

Gandalf puffed a smoke ring into the air. "It is understandable to be afraid; It is not a easy thing this. Mordor holds horrors beyond anything imaginable.I, too, am at times terrified."

"But it's not Mordor that frightens me, Gandalf." Darren whispered, stealing a glance in Mirra's direction, who had her back to him.

Following Darren's gaze to the sleeping princess, Gandalf murmured, "Aye. She should not have come, but I am sure it would be safer to have her in the company of the Fellowship for the time being. When the Sorcerer Marith arises he will search Middle Earth over until he finds her, and without someone to protect her she will be lost. As strong as he may be, Lord Elrond is not strong enough to overcome Marith and bringing danger to Rivendell would be pointless."

For once when it came to Lord of the Rings, Darren drew a blank. Marith. Who was Marith?

Somehow sensing Darren's unspoken question, Gandalf said, "Mirra has not told you? About her parents?" Off the look he received he begun to explain what, barely a week ago, he had told Mirra herself about Lady Arania. When he was finished he took a puff of his pipe and watched the play of emotion on the young man's face.

"She is the daughter of an elf and dark sorcerer?" Darren asked. Gandalf nodded. "Her mother sent her to our world to be reborn in order to protect her?" Another nod. Darren's head spun. "Oh god…"

He thought back to the day he first met Mirra. He'd been almost six then and as a tough second grader, had offered to help when a bully had stolen her lunch. He recalled looking into those frightened sapphire eyes surrounded by thick caramel curls, pulled back into innocent pig tails. Since that day, he'd always been there to save her. Especially after a rough break up and she'd left, Darren had been the one to find her and bring her home.

He swallowed. Hard. "Wha-what will happens if Mirra is taken by Marith?" He whispered, barely audible.

"Her power would become subject to evil and she would be the very key to the downfall of Middle Earth."

"But the ring…"

"The ring, Darren, overcomes even the most pure of hearts. If Mirra were wear the ring of power, she, too, would be overcome by the darkness it contains. Sauron forged this ring for himself, to give him an ultimate power. I do not know what Marith intends with Mirra and the ring, but if the prophecy is to be believed, once united, and with Sauron, nothing short of a miracle will save us."

>>>

The company rose early the next morning to be on their way, packing up quickly and left after a small breakfast. Having tossed and turned all night, Mirra's eyes were smudged with violet; a reminder that the floor was hard.

"What's wrong, little girl?" Boromir asked sweetly, "Was the ground not soft enough for you?"

Resisting the urge to throttle him and have Darren lecture her, Mirra glared at him. "Look, pal, I'm not in the mood for this right now, so why don't you make like a tree and leave?"

Boromir grinned. "Your language is quite refreshing. Most royalty nowadays speak so refined."

Mirra grinded her teeth. "Not where I'm from."

"Which is where exactly?"

"Nowhere you know."

"Is it nice there?"

"What do you care?"

"I'm just curious"
Mirra sighed. She really couldn't handle this so early in the morning. "Yeah, well, curiosity killed the cat."

"Forget it!" Boromir grunted and stomped off to join Gimli up ahead.

Mirra grinned evilly. Sucker. Mirra: 1, Boromir: 0.