I just watched my brand new BOFA DVD and I have so many regrets about doing so. On the positive side, I am now raring to submerge myself in a version of Middle Earth that ISN'T COMPLETELY TERRIBLE HOW COULD YOU PETER JACKSON I TRUSTED YOU I WILL NOT ACCEPT THIS SHIT *rants into the distance*

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Tolkien, you own you!

Once you explain to the hobbits who Aragorn is, they're very willing to let him join the group. This is also after you explain who you are to Merry and Pippin, who you recalled you hadn't been properly introduced to. Aragorn takes over leading the group from Bree. You're more than happy to let him do it and just provide extra security. He's a good leader, though you hadn't had a travel regime so strict since Thorin.

The matter of your husband pops up after you've made camp on Weathertop. You're caught up in your own thoughts of the future when you hear Sam say, "Is that a raven?"

"A raven?!" You look up quickly. Sure enough, a beautiful black bird is preening on a nearby rock. Something is tied to its foot. You snatch the letter and tear it open. "It's about time!"

My dearest heart,

I am sorry to hear your trip hasn't gone as planned. You should have remembered that Wizards can be as stubborn as Dwarves. I hope Gandalf will regain his senses and listen to your counsel; it has failed no one before.

I also wish I was with you, or that you were home with me. I can always meet you somewhere if you so desire. Being without you has made the world wrong. Business continues as usual and affairs run smoothly, but the days are empty when I cannot see you each evening and morning. Dis has threatened numerous times to fetch you herself if only to improve my mood, and I'll admit that I am no joy to be around. I can imagine you smiling as you read this - I'm sure it amuses you to know that the great King Under the Mountain is lost without his Queen. The irony is not lost on me either, but I care not for it. I only wish for the year to be up and to have you back in my arms.

Write whenever you can. If the letters stop, I cannot promise that I won't send armies to tear apart the lands until I find you safe.

Yours eternally,

Thorin

The tears that fall from your face thankfully do not smudge the handwriting that you know so well. You commit every word to memory and press the folded paper to your lips. You fancy you can almost feel the warmth of his hands where they touched the parchment.

"Is it ill news?" Aragorn asks, and you jump. He and the hobbits are staring at you, the latter with some concern.

"N-No, it's not like that." You wipe the tears that glaze your cheeks. "It's just a letter from my husband."

"You wrote to Thorin?" Frodo is surprised.

"Yeah, so?" You clutch the letter defensively. "It's our first time being separated for so long, and I - I - I don't have to explain myself to you!" You move further away from their quiet chuckles to work on your response.

You produce a page of small script telling him briefly of the news of the quest and mostly how much you miss him. Putting it down on paper amplifies the ache. You suddenly long for the comfortable bed the two of you normally share, the feeling of his rough fingers on your waist, the gleam of his eyes through the dim light...

Aragorn says from behind you, "I did not know you were married."

"Huh? Oh, yes, I am."

"And I did not know you were a queen."

You turn fully towards him at this. "We don't need to spread that around," you say quickly. "What's the point of titles on a trip like this? I'm sure you can relate, son of Arathorn."

Aragorn half-smiles, understanding the hint. "I do apologize, though; I would not have been so rough with you on our first meeting had I known."

"Rough, ha! I live with Dwarves!"

"Which is fascinating of itself. Your marriage to the Dwarf king is legend."

You flush slightly. "It shouldn't be that legendary. Kili married an Elf, too. But how did you hear of it? Have you really roamed all the way to Erebor?"

"I have wandered far and wide, though not near there. Word travels on the road, and I am always listening."

"It must be so neat to be a Ranger," you sigh dreamily. "All the places you've been and things you've seen... I tried to model myself after you lot to prepare for this, but rugged living is easy to ruin when you have easy access to hot baths and big beds. I guess my willpower isn't as good as yours - if I were you, I'd stay in Rivendell. But I'm rambling," you finish sheepishly.

"Not at all. Hearing you speak so openly is very telling about you as a person."

"I hope it's a good telling. I'd like to be at least on good terms with you, Aragorn, since we'll be seeing so much of each other."

"You needn't worry about that," he says warmly. "Go and send your letter. I'm going to have a look around."

You check the darkening sky. It is about time for him to disappear. You seal your letter with a kiss and give it to the raven along with a sausage as thanks. The bird takes off; you watch it until it disappears in the distance. With Aragorn gone and some time to kill before the possible Nazgul raid, you join the hobbits at the campfire to grab some dinner.

A shrill cry startles you from a nap you didn't know you were taking. You leap to your feet. Night has fully fallen, and over the edge of the cliff you see shadowy figures approaching the hill. The hobbits rise as well and draw their swords.

"Climb those rocks," you tell them sharply, gesturing to the piled remains of several statues. "Stay alert and don't come down!"

You grip your own sword, the fire of determination roaring in your soul. Frodo would leave here unscathed if it took your lifeless body to make it so!

The Ringwraiths gather at the far end of the space. You stand firm, waiting for them to make the first move. They slowly arm themselves and glide towards you. It's five against one, but you've had worse odds; the idea makes you smirk.

The first Wraith lunges with a shriek. You expertly parry the attack and engage in a heated battle. You focus less on defeating them and more on distraction; if you can keep them occupied until Aragorn returns -

Or you could just burn them yourself.

The campfire is through the line of Nazgul. You charge right through them and grab a flaming log right out of the blaze. "You picked the wrong night!" you shout wildly. "Come on! Bring it!"

The Nazgul swarm you. You wave the torch to keep them at a distance. You manage to ignite one, two, three before a searing pain in your arm causes you to drop the log. The Wraith that sliced you brings his sword down hard; you block it, but the force of the blow brings you to your knees.

A battle cry and a blur of flames removes the threat. You breathe a quick sigh of relief and go to check on the hobbits. They're still huddled on the rocks. "Are you alright?" you demand.

"We're alright," Frodo answers breathlessly. "Aniel, your arm - "

"It's fine," you say shortly.

Aragorn finishes dispatching the last two Wraiths and strides over. "Are you injured?" he asks you.

"Just a scratch."

"Those are Morgul blades. Death is forged into the very metal. We must get you to Rivendell, and quickly."

"You don't think I planned for all eventualities?" you say wryly. "I can hold over for a bit. Even longer if we find some athelas."

"We'll find some on the way. We need to move now."

You bind your arm while the hobbits pack up. You certainly hadn't planned explicitly to take Frodo's place, but with your experience with Elvish medicine, you're not too worried about succumbing to such a small wound. It is quite painful for its size, however: your entire arm is both burning and heavy with the poison of the Morgul blade. You whisper a few words of healing that dull the pain slightly.

You grind through the next two days fueled by nothing but will power and spite. You almost militantly rebuff all attempts to care for you; it takes a lot of energy to exist solely on simmering fury, and any decrease in your guard might render you invalid for the rest of the trip. Fortunately, you receive a boost in morale that you'd thoroughly forgotten was coming: the camp at the end of the third night is set in a clearing with three very familiar statues.

"The trolls!" you exclaim, running ahead of the group into the glen. "I can't believe - I totally forgot - "

"These are the trolls from Bilbo's story?" Frodo gasps.

"Yeah! Oh my goodness, this brings back memories! Thorin and I were right there in sacks - " You stand in the same spot you'd been in so many years ago - " - and Bilbo was over there, telling them the best way to cook us. Thorin was so mad at him! Then Gandalf came and cracked that rock there, and the trolls turned to stone in the sunlight."

The hobbits gaze in wonder at the troll-shaped statues. You pace excitedly around the area, reliving the adventure. The camp you'd made was to the right, and up to the left was the troll hole -

"I found athelas," Aragorn says, breaking your reverie. "Let me treat your arm."

"Oh! Alright. Thank you."

Sam boils some water and you and Aragorn sit on some logs. Aragorn carefully removes the bandage on your forearm. Your wound does not look as grave as Frodo's would have, but it certainly isn't pretty.

"You're lucky," he says, crushing the herb in the water. "It isn't deep, and you've been able to keep the poison at bay well by yourself."

"Better me than Frodo," you sigh. "It was supposed to be him, only much worse. I've been trying to avoid it the whole time - we left early, I didn't let Pippin run his mouth, and I tried to keep watch - but nothing has worked. Every time I've tried to change something, it's gone on and happened like I never interfered at all."

"Until now, at least."

"That isn't the point. My track record is better than this. If I haven't been able to change these early events, what if I'm useless later?"

"It must be a burden to know the future before it happens."

"It is now," you huff.

The athelas does much to soothe the wound once the paste is applied. Aragorn wraps the paste with a clean bandage and ties it securely.

"Thank you," you say again. "I really appreciate it."

He seems not to have heard you. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Anything else?" You raise an eyebrow. "You almost sound irritated, Strider."

"Not irritated, no. But if you've seen any more attacks, I should like to know of it."

"Oh. Right. It's funny, it hardly occurs to me to tell people about the small things. But to answer your question, there aren't any attacks scheduled, but we do have a very lovely visitor coming."

Galloping hooves cut off Aragorn's question, and Arwen rides into the clearing. The two of you stand, you with a smile; you and Arwen became friends during your time in Rivendell, and you're glad to see her again.

"I hoped I'd find you here," Arwen says with a slight smile.

"What are you doing here?" Aragorn asks, shocked.

"I've been looking for you for two days. My father saw the Nazgul attack." Arwen looks at you. "How are you holding?"

"Well enough, but I'll need help when we get to Rivendell."

Poor Aragorn is utterly lost. "You two know each other?"

"She is my friend," Arwen says, smiling at you. You flush slightly; you're still not quite used to being called friend by the Evenstar. "Let me take you home so my father can tend to you."

You almost assent, but realization hits you. "I can't go. You have to take Frodo. The Nazgul are still out there, and if he stays, they will attack again. Take him with you, Arwen. We'll be close behind."

"Are you sure? Will you be able to make it?"

You grin. "'Course I will. It's just a scratch."

"As you wish, mellon-nin."

Sam is very against Frodo leaving with the stranger, but you assure him that it's for the best. They take off into the night. You watch them go, feeling rather pleased with yourself. You haven't been able to change much this time around, but saving Frodo from a lifelong wound is a good first victory. You're sure the Ringwraiths will follow Frodo due to their pull to the ring. That will lead to them being swept away by the Bruinen, putting everything back on track until Rivendell...

Aragorn says quietly from behind you, "There is clearly much I do not know about you, my lady."

You laugh. "Did you expect me to be transparent?"

"No, not transparent, but you are very open. Yet still a mystery..."

"Mysterious? Me? That's a new one! Well, if you're looking to unravel me, it'll have to wait until tomorrow at least. I'm kind of exhausted."

He finally smiles a bit. "I'm sure you are. Go on to bed. I'll take the watch."

You set up your bedroll in the same place you and Thorin lay. Your arm hurts a little less as you relive the adventure over and over until you drift off.