A/N: Surpise I'm alive don't kill me ok. School and music and life and stuff has just been completely devouring me.

If you're still with this story at all and haven't taken if off your alert list, thank you thank you thank you, you beautiful person you. :)

The surge of orcs did not seem endless, as it did in Moria, and after some minutes of Gimli's vulgar insults to Miraleth's right and the whistle of Aragorn's blade to her left—she could hear the soft twang of Legolas' bowstring somewhere behind her as well—the crowd of creatures seemed to lessen to a slightly manageable stream.

Feeling slightly more confident in their near-victory, Legolas had picked a place to stand in the middle of the clearing and was picking off the Uruk-hai one by one, as if for target practice, while Miraleth kept the stragglers off his back. Gimli, who had discovered that most of the orcs seemed to overlook him at first, had taken to simply embedding his axe into every back he could reach while he cursed and yelled. A short distance away, Aragorn was grappling hand-to-hand with an Uruk-hai easily twice his size.

"Legolas!" he called through clenched teeth when the orc threw him up against the stone ruin behind him.

Legolas nocked and arrow and shot the orc in the back, chuckling when Aragorn bent over and put his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. He'd only had a short respite when another orc raised its weapon against him with a bellow. Aragorn rolled his eyes, dived to retrieve his sword from the ground, and turned to deal with this foe.

And then the horn sounded.

It sounded in three short bursts in a deep, mellow tone that seemed to reverberate through Miraleth's bones and rattle her brain inside her skull. And just like everyone else in sight, she stopped cold in attacking whatever stood before her and turned to peer into the trees in the direction the sound had come from. It was not a horn she had ever heard before, but somehow she knew what it was all the same.

"The horn of Gondor!" Legolas' eyes had widened almost imperceptibly and he lowered his bow a fraction of an inch, caught off guard. A rock seemed to drop in the pit of Miraleth's stomach. She had nearly completely forgotten about—

"Boromir," Aragorn rushed out, not wasting a second before pushing past Legolas and into the trees, a new fire in his eyes as he ran towards the sound.

"Boromir," Miraleth echoed absentmindedly, trying to catch her breath as she watched him run off. She exchanged a quick glance with Legolas and Gimli and after a silent moment, they started off after Aragorn further into the woods.

And just like that, masses of orcs were on them again, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Miraleth cursed and shot down the first creature in her sight. They had felt they were nearing a victory when the stream of orcs had started to disappear, but now she saw that they had not been defeated—they had run and were now coming back with a vengeance. She shot another one, cursing louder. The trees groaned and whispered their displeasure at this onslaught of violence. When the orcs realized there was still an enemy to be fought in herself, Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn, some of them turned to raise their ugly iron weapons against them…but the others kept running.

But not away, Miraleth reminded herself bitterly as she riddled an orc's ribcage with arrows, turning to shoot the next one after he fell. Towards Boromir.

For some unfathomable reason, they wanted Boromir more than they wanted the rest, but Miraleth didn't have much time to think on it, as another orc bellowed behind her, raising its weapon and inviting her to cut its arms off. Boromir could take care of himself until they arrived—at least the hobbits were safe at the campsite.

The horn sounded again, the bursts closer together this time. Hurry, they shouted at anyone who would hear, half demanding and half pleading. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

Perhaps he couldn't take care of himself.

"Aragorn!" Legolas called, slipping his bow over his back and pulling his daggers from his waist to slice and chop at the enemies who had gotten too close to shoot.

Aragorn only grunted in response as he swung his sword behind him, tearing open an orc's chest.

"Go!" Legolas pointed further into the trees with a dagger. Aragorn stared at him.

The horn sounded again, louder, and Miraleth's stomach clenched in anxiety. "We are not going to get there in time, Aragorn, go!"

With a swear and one last exasperated glance at his companions, he turned and ran deeper into the woods, tearing down whichever orcs he could on the way.

When she could no longer see the dark fabric of Aragorn's cloak, she turned back to the battle and ran to help Gimli, who was battling three Uruk-hai at once. "I'll teach you to overlook a dwarf!"He shouted gruffly, striking one down and smacking the next across the face with the flat side of his axe. While its face was turned to the side, Miraleth's blade went clean through his neck and out the other side—she wrenched it out, dodging the spray of dark blood, and whirled around to glare at two orcs who thought they could take her off guard. But when they lay at her feet, four more sprang up to take their place, and Miraleth grimaced, her blades faltering slightly before striking out even faster than before. When they lay at her feet as well, though, she felt a jab from behind that would have run her through if she had not already been starting forward—she twisted to look over her shoulder, blades raised, and her heart jumped into her throat at the not two, or four, but eight Uruk-hai that were starting towards her, and just as one was about to slice through her, something roared in the distance, and nearly every orc in the clearing turned to glance at the sound before beginning to retreat. Miraleth kept her defensive stance but did nothing more, dumbfounded.

Until one of them called, "Finish the she-elf—he wants her dead!" and just as Legolas and Gimli whirled around, astonishment clear on their faces, every single orc that had not yet fled turned and sprinted towards her. Her heart that had previously jumped into her throat plummeted down to her stomach.
It seemed like her blades had to be in twelve places at once and even still, some of the orcs managed to just barely drag their weapons across her stomach, arms, back, drawing red lines across her pale skin. "No," she gasped when she caught a curved weapon an inch from her nose, her hands trembling as she cast it back towards her attacker. She was just barely aware of Gimli's yelling as he swung his axe into the mass of dark flesh that surrounded her, and Legolas somewhere to her right, trying to fight his way through the orcs and to her side, the metal of his daggers whistling through the air as he called her name. All at once, the shades Saruman had sent to Imladris for her flashed through her mind, all dark and shadows and silence, and she struggled to keep her blades going through the air. These are not shades, she set her jaw and told herself. They are only orcs. You have killed a hundred of them before. But they were not the orcs she was used to. Just one of them was three times the size of her, and quite significantly taller, and they were a bit quicker in both mind and body than the dim, stupid orcs she was used to.

No matter. She kept her blades moving, twisting and twirling this way and that to strike down whatever she could. She would be damned if she met her end at the hands of the lowest of Saruman's servants, but by the Valar, they were strong, and all she could think about was how Boromir's horn had not sounded a fourth time. She knew what Elladan would say: that perhaps it meant that Boromir was out of trouble, but she also knew what Elrohir would say: that perhaps it meant that Boromir was in even more trouble.

When Gimli and Legolas were finally able to fight their way through to her, they stood on either side of her, Gimli chopping at whatever came up behind her and Legolas slicing through whatever was before her, and soon enough, all that remained was a wide ring of bodies around them. Flies were already beginning to buzz about the dead flesh.

Legolas wiped his daggers off on a bit of grass and sheathed them, glancing at Miraleth out of the corner of his eye. She wasn't shaking, her eyes weren't crying, her lips weren't trembling, but her face was just the slightest shade paler than normal and she didn't say anything—only sheathed her blades quietly and took in the scene around her with such an air of solemnity, Legolas almost didn't recognize her. He kept his gaze on her face, trying to find a bit of brightness in her light eyes. She should never have left Imladris.

"You must have really done something, eh lass?" Gimli chuckled, yanking his axe out of an orc's skull. "A death order all to yourself. Saruman sure has it out for you."

Miraleth shook her head, her solemn reverie broken, and turned to find a clear path out of the ring of bodies. "We are protecting Frodo, Gimli, Saruman has it out for all of us."

"But—"

Legolas none too lightly hit Gimli on the shoulder, giving him a meaningful stare as he passed to follow Miraleth. "We should find Aragorn and Boromir before heading back to shore," he said loudly, hoping to get Miraleth's mind off the startling truth Gimli had spoken.

Miraleth almost ran into Legolas when he slowed to a stop unexpectedly. At first she thought perhaps it was so that he could step between the slews of bodies slain on the ground, but when she turned her gaze up to look for two laughing men joking about how many Uruk-hai each of them had killed, she saw only one, crouched over the other on the ground.

Her heartbeat seemed to slow in her chest and her feet stopped moving forward. Aragorn's shoulders were shaking as he hunched over Boromir, who clutched his sword to his chest with one hand and had a handful of Aragorn's tunic clenched in the other. Three long, dark arrows protruded from his torso, and she could see his chest rattling with every breath. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"I would have followed you, my brother," Boromir struggled to speak.

Legolas turned away from the scene, his eyes downcast. "Miraleth…" He put a hand on her shoulder to guide her away as well, but Miraleth shrugged him off, her eyes never straying from Boromir. The words being shared between the two men across the clearing were not meant for her ears, but she could not stop herself.

"My captain." Boromir's breath came quicker now in shallow rasps of air. "My kin." It did not happen slowly, or dramatically. Boromir did not spill his deepest secrets to Aragorn with his dying breath or make any last requests. He did not cry, or shake in fear, or rage against the inevitability of his fate. Perhaps he did not even know it was coming when it did. One moment he was clutching at Aragorn, his chest heaving, and the next, he was still.

Goosebumps rose on Miraleth's arms as something cold washed over her, but she could not bring herself to rub them away. She was not quite sure she could move, with her eyes still stuck on Boromir's. The spark that lit them was gone and there was a dull film of emptiness—Miraleth could think of no other way to describe it—over his eyes.

She had not seen someone die in many years, and seeing Boromir succumb now was a cruel awakening.

And still she could not turn away.

She felt as if they had been living a fantasy up until now, ambling along towards the Black Gate, laughing and joking (only occasionally arguing) at the stops in between and running through some orc on the way. But the fantasy was over now—Boromir was dead.

"Be at peace, son of Gondor." She could hear Aragorn's whisper from across the clearing, soft and somber. Aragorn pressed a kiss to Boromir's forehead and moved a hand over his face. When his hand left again, Boromir's eyes were closed.

Miraleth heard a heavy breath and a rustle in the leaves behind her, but she did not turn to look at Gimli, who leaned on his axe and murmured a prayer in some gruff Dwarvish tongue. Legolas would pray later, she knew. She would pray with him so that Boromir might know peace after his passing.

Aragorn stood, his back to them and his gaze still on Boromir's face. "They will look for his coming from the White Tower," Aragorn murmured. His voice was quiet still and it was heavy with sorrow, but they could hear him as if he stood just before them. "But he will not return."

Aragorn and Legolas carried Boromir's body back to their campsite on the shore. The journey was silent aside from the rustle of leaves and snaps of twigs under their feet. Miraleth brushed a tree trunk with her palm and sighed with the quiet breeze that whispered through the branches above their heads. "The trees are grieving," she told Gimli, who walked alongside her.

They lay Boromir's body in one of the rowboats with his sword and his shield—an honorable sending-off for an honorable soldier, Aragorn said. They pulled the arrows from his torso and wiped the blood from his face the best they could, and Legolas and Miraleth prayed over him. Boromir belonged to the race of Men, but they prayed that the Valar would take pity. After all, Boromir was courageous in the end. With one last look, they pushed the rowboat off from the shore, and watched Boromir, son of Denethor and Man of Gondor, go over the roaring falls.

The campsite remained silent, and in the silence, Miraleth's brow furrowed. The silence missed something—the small voices she had grown so accustomed to over the weeks. She turned to find her little hobbits, but frowned when they were not where she had left them. She turned to look over her shoulder at the other end of the campsite, and then spun around, and again, searching for a glimpse of Merry's red hair, or Frodo's dark curls. "Merry? Pippin?" She called. "Frodo?" She spun again. "Sam!"

She turned to Aragorn, but he was already looking at her, his eyes sad.

"Aragorn," she sputtered. She tried to say something about the hobbits, but her lips would not speak against the look on his face.

He looked away, out towards the river. "They took Merry and Pippin. They had orders from Saruman to take the hobbits."

Miraleth stared at him, a billion things running through her mind, the foremost thought being that Saruman did not want all the hobbits—he only wanted the one. Frodo. He only wanted whichever one possessed the Ring. But suddenly all the air was gone from her chest and the anger was gone from her veins. She remained quiet—there was nothing she could say. She was tired.

"What about Frodo? Sam?" Legolas' voice was heated. He was angrier than she was.

Aragorn pursed his lips and was quiet for a moment longer. "Safer than Merry and Pippin, I hope. I told Frodo to run, to cross the river. Sam probably went with him." Gimli heard the unspoken message in Aragorn's words, and crouched down to sit on a nearby rock, his eyes faraway.

But Legolas only ran to drag the remaining rowboat from the trees. "Then what are we waiting for?!" He demanded, dragging the boat across the rocky shore alone.

Miraleth reached for Aragorn's hand.

"Hurry!" Legolas pushed the boat towards the water, the water lapping at his ankles, too occupied with trying to get the boat into the river to notice the way Gimli simply sat and stared at him in silence.

Aragorn slipped his hand around Miraleth's and watched her downcast eyes, pushing all thoughts of Frodo to the front of his mind and inviting her to take whatever he had to offer.

"I would have gone with you to the very end."

"Legolas," Miraleth said softly, dropping Aragorn's hand.

"They will have reached the eastern shore," Legolas continued, unhearing, scrambling up the shore to grab the bedrolls and throw them into the rowboat.

"The very end, into the very fires of Mordor."

"Legolas," she called a bit louder. Legolas finally glanced over at Miraleth and his two other remaining companions and stopped, his shoulders relaxing and his arms falling to his sides after taking in their faces. Aragorn was calmly, quietly, readjusting the gauntlets on his forearm, and Gimli only watched him, patiently and solemnly. Miraleth gazed at him from Aragorn's side. She sighed. "Legolas, please."

"But Frodo—"

"Iesten."

The campsite was quiet, the rowboat left half-forgotten in the water. Legolas took a few steps back onto solid ground and turned to look to the other shore. Miraleth followed his gaze. Aragorn and Gimli would not be able to see them, but she and Legolas could just see the backs of Frodo and Sam retreating through the trees.

Legolas released the slightest breath in resignation. "You mean not to follow them." It was a statement, not a question, and he stared at Aragorn, a thousand questions in the lines of his face.

Aragorn had busied himself by wiping at his bloodied dagger with a spare patch of fabric he'd found in Merry's pack. "Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands," he said.

"Then it has all been in vain." Gimli pulled himself up from his rock and absentmindedly plodded towards Aragorn and Miraleth. "The Fellowship has failed."

Legolas had wandered up to them as well, his eyes cloudy with doubt and heavy with thought. Aragorn tried to catch them as he put one hand on Gimli's shoulder and the other on Miraleth's back, whose eyes flickered at the movement. "Not if we hold true to each other," Aragorn countered, his voice low. "We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left." He pushed away and strode over to the weapons he had unstrapped from his waist for a bit. "Leave all that can be spared behind," he ordered, strapping his sword back on and resheathing the dagger he'd been wiping at. "We travel light." A suddenly rejuvenated smile grew on Aragorn's lips and his eyes sparkled. "Let's hunt some orc."

Legolas, Gimli, and Miraleth exchanged glances as Aragorn turned and all but disappeared, running, into the woods. An excited growl started in Gimli's throat, and he shook his axe in the air and yelled his agreement, laughing, grinning, his eyes crinkling as he ran after Aragorn.

Legolas started forward, grinning as well, but stopped when Miraleth did not immediately follow. He met her eyes.

A small smile was curved on her lips in half-relinquishment of her sorrow over the events of the day. It was a tired smile. A bitter smile. But it was a smile nonetheless, and Legolas was happy to see it. Something resembling a chuckle burst from her lips. "So we are going to seek out the enemy now?" She shook her head. "I feel like it would be safer for me just to return to Imladris. My father would keep me safe there, despite whatever he might think. Elrohir and Elladan, too. I would be…safe." Safe. The concept was strange to think about now, after the past weeks. The two were quiet, contemplating her words.

"If you wish to return to Imladris…I will take you there." Legolas said. "If you wish to be safe, I would see it done, regardless." Regardless of anything.

But Miraleth just looked at him. She did not speak. She just looked at him until the same small smile graced her lips again. "I would miss Gimli, I think."

Legolas was the first to begin to laugh, quietly at first, and then more easily when Miraleth began to chuckle. The laughter felt familiar, and even though it was misplaced on this desolate shoreline and so soon after the death of a comrade and friend, the familiarity of it was comforting. Their laughter died down to simple smiles after some moments, and Legolas stepped forward to hold Miraleth's face in his hands. A spark of sunlight lit her eyes again and a rosy tint colored her cheeks. This was the Miraleth he knew. Celebratory, joyous, laughing Miraleth. None of this solemnity or sorrow that had lingered with her like a shadow.

"We should catch up before Aragorn and Gimli leave us behind," Legolas said, his eyes sparkling, turning and darting away. He heard Miraleth start after him, and then they were running, racing through the wood with the wind and falling autumn leaves, following the enthused victory yells of Gimli and the rustle of Aragorn's clothes as they ran ahead of them, and for a moment, nothing else quite mattered to them.

Iesten—please

A/N: You know how I love those reviews.

P.S. A warning-I have hit a complete block in the next chapter, so don't expect anything too soon! (Also I am open to any and all suggestions about the storyline. Feel free to direct me.)