Hello again! Before I start rambling about shit no one cares about, let me just say the biggest thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and/or followed this story – I may not reply to anything because of time constrictions; but that doesn't mean I don't sit and read every single review about fifty-thousand times while jumping around the place squealing with happiness. You guys are so awesome, and I'm honoured to have you with me on this journey. So keep those reviews coming, they help more than you know with my motivation, and thank you again.

Apologies for the wait! What's it been? I think it's around three months or something, which is insane. I still have new people following and favouriting every so often and that just blows my mind. If anyone who started when the story was still a baby – I'd say it's around a toddler's age now – is still with me now, after such a wait, then you are a good person to your core and I love you endlessly. Beautiful people. Exam time is approaching, I've been sorting out university stuff, and I'm behind on an English dissertation – that's all I'm gonna say for my excuse; I won't ramble. Anyhoos!

Hope you enjoy this next chapter – thanks for reading!

DISCLAIMER: Nope, don't own anything. Isn't that completely unsurprising given that every other author on this site is in the same situation?

Chapter 6

It turned out that the gash on Maethoriel's arm was not as minor as she thought – it still was not healed by the time she was trotting along the path towards Rivendell; but that also may have been due to the fact that she had split it open again when she had made the sudden decision to go for a swim. Either way, she had been ripping strips off her tunic for a while, so much so that it was up at her ribs now, exposing the bottom of the silver shirt which lay underneath. The strip currently wrapped around her arm was dirtied and crusty with dried blood. She was wary of how much blood she had lost over her journey back and was starting to wonder when it would have an effect on her, as she had seen many men and women fall ill from major blood loss and knew that it often led to their deaths.

Sadron seemed to share her wariness, his hooves coming down swift and determined as he carried her to the safety of Elrond's home where her wound could be properly treated. He had barely rested on their journey, allowing her to sleep on his back as he travelled the wild landscape, but often downright refusing to halt, much to her displeasure. Although, his actions did touch her and she found herself becoming increasingly fond of him – he was elegant, loyal, intelligent and, frankly, quite chivalrous. Never before had she met a steed of such character; she completely understood why he was favoured above all others.

"Not long now, Sadron," she told him, patting his velvety black neck. "Then you can have a proper rest." He snorted and shook his mane, following the path through the valley at a steady trot.

She sat up straighter in the saddle, her emerald eyes gazing across the beautiful scenery. Winter was nigh – she had felt it in the sharp breeze and seen it in the falling golden-brown leaves – but Rivendell seemed unaffected. No matter the season, it was and always would be a stunning sight. With the early morning rays of sunshine filtering through the gaps in the surrounding hills, landing upon buildings and trees alike, Maethoriel was instantly warmed with a content and tranquil mood that she knew she would not experience anywhere else. It truly was an unsurpassed location.

The gentleness and serenity that enwreathed the area was disturbed, however, when Maethoriel approached the entrance. Aragorn was jogging down the steps of one of the buildings into the courtyard, a distressed expression on his face. Only a few elves were around to witness the scene as it was still early in the morning. "Maethoriel!" Aragorn called quietly, jogging up to Sadron's side as he slowed to a stop in the courtyard. "Are you alright? Are you wounded?"

She smiled at the familiar face, no matter how contorted it was in anxiety and concern, and smoothly dismounted. She kept her hand on the saddle once she was back on her feet, feeling a little disorientated. "Only slightly," she answered, looking at her wrapped upper arm.

He pulled the fabric away for a moment to examine her wound and frowned. "It will need to be cleaned and stitched," he said.

An elf came up to them and took Sadron's reins, giving Maethoriel a small bow. "Make sure he eats and gets some rest, please," she requested, "He has gone too long without."

"Of course," the elf replied, taking her horse away.

Without Sadron's support, she felt herself wobble slightly. Aragorn caught her forearm and held her up, frowning more fiercely. "How much blood have you lost?"

"It is just the journey taking its toll on me," she replied, "We rode hard for many days without proper rest."

He did not look convinced; but left it alone nonetheless. Keeping one hand on her forearm, he placed another at the small of her back and led her through Rivendell to a small stream, where he sat her down on the soft grass. She closed her eyes as he tended to her, refusing to let the pain show in her countenance. "You do not question my actions," she commented after a while.

"It is not my place to do so," he replied. "I'm sure Lord Elrond will want an explanation from you soon enough."

"Did Gandalf not explain?"

"He did; but I suspect Elrond will want one from you all the same."

"He does," a soft, musical voice spoke from in front of them. Maethoriel opened her eyes to see Elrond's daughter, Arwen, standing on the other side of the stream. The elf smiled kindly at her and looked at her arm. "Is it painful?"

"Somewhat," Maethoriel replied, smiling. "But not enough to impede me."

"I am glad. When we learned of your egress, there was a lot of panic and concern for your wellbeing."

Maethoriel sighed to herself. "I did not mean to cause such unrest," she told them, "I just wished to show that I was capable of defending myself so that I would not be treated as something precious and fragile anymore."

Arwen smiled wider. "I completely understand."

"I am finished," Aragorn said then. "Ensure you do not reopen your wound."

"Thank you, my friend," she replied, standing up and taking a deep breath.

"My father asked me to collect you both and bring you to him," Arwen informed them.

They crossed the stream and walked with her along the paths, Maethoriel enjoying the peace even more after being attacked in the wilderness. Conversation between Arwen and Aragorn seemed to be limited, as if they were unwilling to converse as they usually would in front of the Emberling. "Don't let me hinder you both," she told them with a smile. "I know of the bond you share."

"I would not wish to make it awkward for you," Arwen replied honestly.

"I am content to linger behind and enjoy the calm before the storm."

"Do not fear; my father will not treat you harshly."

"I have no doubt," Maethoriel replied, bowing her head before she slowed her pace and fell behind the two.

She knew Elrond would not treat her harshly; but that did not mean that he would not express his feelings concerning her sudden, unannounced departure. What she would give to walk into the room and not have anyone stare at her like a rare antique on show, to be able to stand aside drawing little attention to herself and be content in knowing that many thought her their equal or less. At this point she would welcome some arrogant being claiming they were more than she could ever be – it would be refreshing to her. Plus, if she decided she had grown tired of said being's attitude, she knew she could prove them wrong – she always enjoyed challenges, no matter how small.

This challenge, however, the challenge of convincing seemingly every soul in Rivendell that she was a capable fighter, was taking its toll on her and wearing her patience down. They were all stubborn and unwilling to listen to her, unwilling to accept the truth. A determined expression overcame her face, then, her steps more solid and purposeful than their usual meandering, light way, and she ripped the rest of her tunic off – what was the point of it if it only covered less than half of her torso, anyway? She pulled her hair out of its braid down her back and let it free, its waves more orderly due to being in the braid for so long.

Arwen and Aragorn led her up a few steps and pushed open a set of grand, wooden doors that led into a small hall. There were three tables on either side and one at the top of the hall, with a small fireplace on the left wall. Maethoriel recognised the fluffy white hair of Bilbo, his small figure sat at the table next to the fire, his back facing them. He seemed to be the only of the hobbits awake at this hour; no dwarves appeared to be awake yet and Aragorn seemed to be the only man out of his bed. However, there were several elves seated around two of the tables by the right wall, Legolas being one of them.

As soon as the door had opened, he had lifted his head and looked up at the three entering. Upon seeing Maethoriel, his eyes widened and he stood. The elves quietened at his sudden action and turned to see what had provoked him, their eyes widening as well. It was only the lack of noise that made Bilbo turn round, and he was the only one to break it. "Maethoriel!" he called, smiling in pleasant surprise. "How wonderful to see you back and in one piece!"

As they walked down the middle of the hall, she smiled back at him, glad for his presence. "It is wonderful to see you too, my friend," she replied honestly.

He looked to where they were headed and sent her a grin. "Good luck!"

A door to the right of the head table led them into another room filled with bookshelves and a beautiful desk which sat underneath a large window. Elrond was sat at the desk, his familiar frown of thought creasing his forehead.

"Thank you, Arwen, Aragorn," he said, standing from his chair. "Could you wait outside, please?" The two wordlessly bowed their heads and left, closing the door behind them. Maethoriel watched Elrond's back as he turned and walked down the room, his hands clasped behind him. He paused briefly to look back at her. "You may have my chair, if it would please you. I know you have been travelling for a while."

"I am content to stand, thank you. I will not be here long," Maethoriel replied.

His frown deepened and he turned to face her fully. "We have much to discuss."

"You wish for an explanation. I felt that I needed to help in the search for the Riders and I knew that you would not agree to me doing so if I came to you with the idea. I had no option other than to leave the night before in the cover of darkness." She gestured to her cleaned wound. "By returning here with only this, I am certain I have proved that I'm more than capable of defending myself against our enemies, even when I am outnumbered and the odds are certainly not in my favour. I am ready to journey with the Fellowship and I most certainly do not need to be protected."

Elrond studied her for a while, taking what she had said into account. Then, he inhaled deeply. "Be that as it may, Maethoriel, if you were to be injured severely under the watch of the Fellowship, the blame would be on them – on Middle-Earth as a whole, in fact. You are too valuable an asset to be left unguarded."

Maethoriel closed her eyes and breathed deeply, impatience and irritation threatening to poison her words. When she had composed herself, she opened her eyes to stare sharply at Elrond. "You are implying that if I were to be harmed in any way, my people would hold your world responsible. Would I be wrong to think that you are wondering whether that would then bring the wrath of the Stars onto Middle-Earth?" He blinked at the sudden fierceness in her voice and her accuracy. "I can assure you that you are wrong to think so. Many Emberlings have perished on their quests, on many different worlds, and not once have my people sought revenge. Emberlings are their own responsibility – none but them are to be blamed for any damage done to them." Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides and she knew she would soon lose herself if she was not careful. "The Fellowship cannot afford to constantly have me protected when the fate of Middle-Earth lies upon Frodo already. He should be receiving all the protection we can give him, which means that any given to me will go to waste and might leave him unprotected – this I cannot allow and neither can any of us. To worry about me would be utter foolishness. You know this, Elrond. Why you do not accept it is beyond me, but I am done waiting. You will only hinder and danger the Fellowship by having them protect me."

She had nothing more to say on the matter. She had stated her beliefs time and time again and she was tired of doing so. If Elrond did not change his mind or at least quieten his discomfort about her 'vulnerability' after her speech, then he would lose her respect for him.

She turned on her heel and left the room, walking out between Aragorn and Arwen into a silent hall. Maethoriel vaguely wondered if those inside had overheard her and Elrond's words, and decided that Bilbo would be the best to speak to. Apparently, he wished to speak with her too. "Maethoriel," he said, walking over to her, his feet moving quickly to keep up with her lengthy strides. "Do you mind if I join you?"

She put a hand on his shoulder, already feeling less tense. "Not at all, dear Bilbo. Your company would be much appreciated."

She could feel Legolas' eyes on her again but she could not bring herself to meet his gaze, knowing that he felt the same as Elrond. At that moment, she could spare no time for any who felt the same as Elrond. She knew it was immature to ignore him, but the people of Middle-Earth needed to understand that she was no infant.

It was serenely quiet, on the hobbits' balcony. They had been given one of the most private houses in Rivendell, so private that the wind carried no voices or laughter or singing, only the singing of birds and water. The sun was slowly climbing above them as the day grew older, casting its golden glow over the grey stone and the green bushes. Below the balcony, the valley stretched out into the distance, the river curving through like blue ribbon. Maethoriel sat on the wall of the balcony, her legs dangling into the vast drop, admiring and cherishing everything about the moment. Bilbo was sat on a bench behind her, his eyes closed, his head leant back, his hands clasped in his lap. It was everything she needed after her journey and her meeting with Elrond.

However, as she continued to look out over the valley, she became aware of a cold creeping up her back, causing goose bumps to rise wherever it touched. The birdsong cut off abruptly as a darkness washed over the valley, solid, black clouds blocking out the golden sunlight and sending a great, heavy rainfall onto her. She looked at her arm to examine the water and started at the sight of a crimson-brown liquid. The river in the valley turned the same colour and the trees and bushes and grass lost their vibrant green, turning brown in their deaths and crumpling into themselves. Just as she started to hear screams from the buildings behind her and a terrible, orange-red light descended on her vision, whispering horrible things of torture and slaughter, an aged voice spoke at her side and she blinked, the valley returning to the way it had been seconds before.

She looked at her arm and the river in the valley, frowning in discomfort despite the fact that the crimson-brown liquid had vanished without a trace. The birds were singing again and the sun was shining in the clear blue sky, but Maethoriel did not feel at peace.

Remembering the voice, she looked to her left and saw that Gandalf was there, watching her carefully. She looked behind him and saw Bilbo now more animated in a friendly chat with Frodo. The golden glint of his chain set her dread deeper in the pit of her stomach and she blinked again, looking back to Gandalf. "My apologies, Mithrandir, I did not hear what you said," she told him.

His eyes twitched, narrowing slightly. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice quiet.

She forced a smile. "I'm fine, thank you. I hope you did not get much grief for assisting me?"

He looked unconvinced. "Elrond expressed his displeasure with me, but the others kept their opinions to themselves."

She nodded and looked into the valley again, half expecting the vision of darkness and death to overcome the beauty once more. "I am glad."

"Elrond told me of your meeting with him earlier. It seems you have put your point across effectively this time."

She sighed in relief. "Finally. I was growing tired of everyone tiptoeing around me."

"You did have more to discuss with him, however."

She looked at him with a frown. "What do you mean?"

The corner of his lip twitched. "You did not tell him the outcome of your journey – did you find any trace of the Riders?"

She closed her eyes, an embarrassed smile growing on her face. "I thought he meant we had much to discuss about the fact that I left," she explained, opening her eyes again. "But, no, I didn't find any trace of them. Only a few accounts of seeing cloaked figures travelling through the darkness. I assumed they had returned to their master. What of the other scouts? What news did they bring?"

"Nothing could be found or heard about the Riders," he answered. "We have come to the same conclusion as you: that they have returned to their master. It will be some time before they can hunt again. But we must delay no longer; Elrond says the Company must leave in seven days."