Merida kept her gaze up as the Ringbearer walked her to the banks of the river, her wet skirts draping over his bare body.

"My clothes aren't far from that tree. Would you mind fetching them for me?" he politely asked her as soon as they were out of the water. She looked up at his face and quietly nodded, then went off to grab the pile of garments she found previously.

She came back with the bundle in her arms. The Ringbearer was now standing behind one of the other trees, with one of the the branches strategically covering him. She instinctively handed him his undergarments and trousers first without making eye contact. She heard a soft, polite "Thank you" from behind.

She looked over her shoulder and handed him both of the shirts. She couldn't help taking a look at the gleaming mithril mail she'd discovered previously as he put it on - or secretly admiring how it flowed over his form.

"If you don't mind me asking... Where did you get that?"

"It was an heirloom from my uncle."

He looked over his shoulder, his piercing blue eyes returning her gaze.

"Who exactly are you, anyway?"

His voice was surprisingly calm.

"Merida. My name's Merida. I'm from Dunland."

His brows furrowed for a moment.

"I haven't heard much good about that place."

"To be honest, neither have I. Our people have been under the spell of Saruman for a long while now."

"An old friend of my uncle's knew him quite well," he responded ruefully as he put on the other other shirt and began to button it.

"Who was he?"

"Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey. Saruman betrayed him when he tried to ask for his aid. He later died in Moria."

"I'm so sorry."

He turned again to look her in the eye once more.

"I appreciate your sympathies, Merida."

"Um... I don't think I ever caught your name."

"It's Frodo. Frodo Baggins."

Merida let a small smile cross her face.

"It's nice to meet you - officially, that is."

Frodo returned her smile as his own crossed his elegantly curved lips - one that made Merida's cheeks involuntarily flush. He stepped in front of the tree that he had been using as his dressing panel as he pulled up his suspenders and put on his vest, jacket, and cloak. Merida's eyes darted to the leaf-shaped brooch as he fastened it. The brooch itself was quite beautiful with its emerald hue, but strangely enough, she found the hands that worked to close it to be no less so. The nails were short and rugged, and his fingers were not slender like a woman's, but they seemed long and well proportioned nonetheless.

"It's good to meet you as well."

Her gaze quickly shifted back to his face.

"Forgive me for asking, but what exactly were you doing here?" he asked.

"I-I was trying to get some water," she responded sheepishly.

Frodo suddenly noticed that her water canteen was still empty.

"Would you like me to fill that for you?"

She nodded and gave it to him.

"Thank you."

For a brief moment, she stood there and watched him go back to the banks of the river. Suddenly, she shook her head and looked for something else to do.

Stop it already! Keep this rubbish up, and you'll be looking like a member of the MacIntosh posse!

She vividly remembered when the MacIntoshes, along with the MacGuffins and Dingwalls, were vying for her hand in marriage. Lord MacIntosh's son, Young MacIntosh, was the first to attempt to hit the target that would ensure his betrothal (she had chosen archery as the choice sport). She remembered the way he had looked over his shoulder at the group of squealing young peasant girls. At that moment, she'd rolled her eyes and wondered why he didn't want to marry one of them instead. Whoever he chose would've certainly been a far more willing partner than she would've been.

Come to think of it, she fancied that Frodo could've passed for a MacIntosh - at least in looks. The only problem was that poor Young MacIntosh had an obscenely large nose and a chest-puffing ego to match it. Plus, he was as vain as a peacock when it came to strutting his supposed prowess with the opposite sex. What she had seen of Frodo so far was the exact opposite. In fact, she hardly had a clue on why he suddenly fascinated her so much. It couldn't have been merely from seeing him bathe in the river.

...

Fergus looked out at the gates of his kingdom once more. He knew Rohan was near - and that he needed to go there soon. But first he needed to muster the courage to tell his wife that their daughter had ventured off to seek the Ringbearer- along with everything else that transpired in Rivendell.

Angus neighed anxiously. The steed still wasn't used to having anyone other than Merida astride him.

"It's all right, Angus," Fergus said to the horse, almost in a whisper. He took a deep breath before eyeing the guards. They scrambled to open it as soon as they recognized who he was.

Fergus rode in and sent Angus to the stables as soon as he was able. He then entered Castle DunBroch, searching for his wife. The servants were quick to acknowledge his return. It didn't take long before he saw her practically running down the stairs.

"Fergus!"

She held a fistful of her skirts in each hand as she rushed towards him, only letting go to give him a great hug.

"You're back!"

"That's right. I'm here, lass."

Once the embrace was broken, Elinor's eyes darted around the room.

"... Where's Merida?"

"There's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Elinor... When we were in Rivendell... We found out about what's happening out there. We cannot breathe a word to a single soul about what I'm about to tell you."

"I don't care! I just want to know what happened to our daughter!"

Fergus sighed.

"She went out to find the Ringbearer."

"The Ringbearer?"

"Aye. This entire war is over a magic ring - which is said to be forged by the Lord of Mordor himself. The only way to destroy it is to take it to the fires of Mount Doom and throw it into the burning fires. They sent someone to do it, and in order to prove our loyalty... Merida offered to accompany him and ensure that it's done."

"And you didn't do anything to stop her?! Fergus - how do we know they aren't lying to us?! Do we even know who this Ringbearer is?!"

"Elinor-"

She turned around and buried her face in her hands.

"Merida...! Our child... My daughter... She's probably lost... Confused..."

"Elinor..."

"... Why? WHY DID YOU DO THIS?"

Fergus breathed deeply.

"Elinor, this is bigger than all of us. Our daughter knows what she's doing. She's a strong, strong lass - stronger than anyone knows."

"Imagine all the glory and honor she'll bring to Dunland when she comes home," he continued with a substantially softened voice. "She'll be a great heroine, the world will be safe again, and we'll be celebrating ourselves into oblivion."

"If she returns," Elinor responded. "How can you promise that she'll come back?"

Fergus sighed.

"I can't. But I have to believe she will return. WE have to believe that - for the sake of our sanity."

Elinor ran into him and buried her face into one of his massive shoulders, sobbing. He instinctively wrapped his arms around his wife and waited for her tears to pass.