A/N I cannot believe how well this story has been received! Thank you to everyone who has read it and offered their thoughts. I love all reviews even criticism is welcome I'm always trying to improve. This is a very long chapter, you'll definitely see more of Calliope's attitude here.

"Gar- hon" [hold him] I barked to the room full of Elves.

This was the third Elf in one day that needed more than salve and a simple song. The needles used to suture an Elf shut needed to be curved, a J shape was my preferred, you could use it for most stitches. Barasil, after finding out that I was hammering my needles trying to bend them, worked his magic. The next day I found every variation I could possibly need in all of my needles, it was such a simple and wholesome way for him to show his care for me.

One of the healers had fashioned me a holder for the needles I used to cauterize, it was wooden and easy to grip and felt much better than the searing needle alone, but soon the wood was blackened and cracking from the constant use.

My index finger and thumb on both hands were swollen and pink, even with their magic-infused salves, I could not heal them by constantly hurting them. the nerves there were already damaged I knew that by the numbness, but it couldn't be helped. Barasil often would need to carry me out of the talan in order for me to see to my own needs. I don't know how many days have passed since the Fellowship left.

"Hold Him!" I screeched, not bothering to speak Sindarin as I began digging into the wound to clean it of debris. This Elf was lucky enough to not have fallen to their poison-dipped arrows, he however had plenty of shrapnel-type splinters embedded up and down his left thigh as if he were hit with a club and it exploded against him.

"Nen! Nen, nen." [water, water, water.] I yelled until an Elleth ran to me with a basin to flush the wound.

My hands were shaking and cramping. "Ni am gar- i runda sí" [I am taking the wood out now,] I explained to the Elf beneath me trying to keep him calm.

That was something the Elves didn't do before I came. There wasn't much of an explanation process in their patient care. Of course, they cared for the patient but there was this assumption, that the Elf on the table knew exactly what was going on. After all everyone here was over a thousand years old, they all held so much wisdom they assumed it was common, and often when given the chance to share they would forget to.

Barasil came then, he helped hold the Elf down as I continued my ministrations and when I was finished I couldn't fully close my hands, they were shaking and covered in different shades of crimson.

"When was the last you slept?" He asked me, and I shrugged in reply. "If you came here to chastise me you can leave."

He turned to the other healers, "Emme'll n- at-," [We'll be right back]

Then unceremoniously scooped me up in his arms and carried me away. This wasn't the first time Barasil carried me, he had found it easier than dragging me. The sensation of being weightless was a respite in itself. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers finding purchase in his long hair; I could sense the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. He didn't seem to mind my disgusting hands, or the way the strands of his hair would slightly stick to them and get caught in the gore that clung under my nails.

Our faces were inches apart, and our eyes locked in an unspoken connection. I could see the intensity of his gaze, the depth of emotion in his eyes. He held his tongue however and didn't chastise me. He carried me all the way to my talan and opened the door easily while supporting my weight with one arm.

He carried me to the bed laying me down gently. My hair splayed in all directions across the pillows and I yawned sleepily against him, I did not release my grip on his neck, however. I don't know if I could have if I wanted to with my hands and muscles being so tense and seized up I doubt I would have been able to. He chuckled against my neck; his breath was hot against my skin as he hovered over me.

"Can you wake me up in exactly 20 minutes? I don't want to be gone longer than that." I sleepily drawled against him as he pried my arms from his neck.

He hovered over me as he dropped my arms to my side, his eyes roved over me, darkening when they reached my lips and then rising up to meet my eyes again. "Hey Barasil?" my eyes were drooping but I remembered I had a question for him.

He was still leaning over my form as if frozen, "Yes?"

"How do you not get hurt when you're having relations," I yawned, "What if one of your friends and you shared a lover wouldn't that cause problems?"

I closed my eyes now, "Yes that can happen, often now we make it known to other Ellon our intentions however so that doesn't happen; we stake a claim so other Elves stay back."

"Has nobody spoken to you of this before? A claim is hmmm what Dargan would call dibs I think." He continued speaking as I passed out underneath him.

oOo

We are at war. Perhaps we've been at war, and my modern-day human mind didn't comprehend it. Forces from Dol Guldur have been attacking the borders heavily; messengers from Mirkwood have accounted the same.

The woods haven't been quiet and serene, at night I can hear their screams from the healing talan, I can hear their wails from their homes, and when rest finds me, I hear their cries in my dreams.

Dargan told me to stay, he said I was safest here, but what if he was wrong? What if he made a change and now the Golden Wood gets wiped out?

"Little Seer you should be resting," Barasil stood in the doorway his figure illuminated by the light outside.

I froze in the middle of the room, I found that Boromir's methods of coping were much to my liking and often would pace when overwhelmed. Why had I never thought to do that before?

This was nothing I had prepared for, and I was embarrassed by how much it affected me. Often times I would shut the world out, I would become numb, focus on the task at hand, slice, and stitch, break and brace, ignore the screams. But when I was still, when my hands paused and I was no longer busy, my mind had time to catch up to what I had done and I couldn't handle it, so I paced.

"I can't Barasil," I whispered as he approached me. He walked toward me, shoulders hunched and arms slightly extended as if I were a frightened animal. And I was, I wasn't sleeping, I rarely ate and if I did it soon left my stomach the same way it arrived.

His arms encircled me and he half dragged half carried me to the bed, he grumbled under his breath in Sindarin.

Barasil lived not far from me in a guest talan on his own, though he hasn't told me how long his stay has been or where he's from. Now he often spent nights with me. It wasn't romantic between us, Elves are innocent curious creatures and he knew if I worked myself to death under his watch he would be next.

As he laid me down he situated himself next to me lying on his side facing me. "You need not fear," he brushed a hair behind my ear. He was truly handsome, not in the same way Legolas was but Barasil looked like temptation on a platter.

Was I afraid? Is that why I couldn't rest? "Did you hear about Phrofin?" I asked in a quiet voice turning on my side to face him.

He caressed my cheek gently forcing me to look at him, "That was not your fault."

His thumb began to rub in circles as my tears began to rapidly fire down my cheeks, "I told him he would be alright, I promised him he would be alright."

He pulled my face to him and kissed my brow, "You did not lie, his spirit is now in the Halls of Awaiting." He breathed against me, he didn't pull away and as the sobs began to shake my body he planted another gentle kiss to my temple and held his lips there for several seconds before pulling away. Barasil had become my closest friend, and I was no longer embarrassed by him seeing me in such states.

There were many times I would fly into pacing and he would need to physically lift me from the ground to stop me, though my feet still trudged forward in the air unknowing.

"Sleep now sweet Calliope," he whispered against my temple before he began singing softly. The song sounded familiar like the ones the healers used.

oOo

"Stay away from me!" It had been only a few hours since I had woken up, and I knew immediately Barasil had enchanted me somehow. I slept wonderfully, no nightmares, no restlessness.

He had laid beside me, his arm was draped over me lazily but he wasn't asleep he was watching me, his mind was somewhere else completely. It however was completely on me when I began hurling pillows and blankets at him and scrambling away.

"Calliope, if I wouldn't have you wouldn't have gotten any rest." He reasoned trying to approach me as I shielded myself with a pillow.

"You tricked me! You beguiled me with your Elven magic! I was supposed to be at the healing talan already! Go away." I had no reason to be upset with him, not rationally so. But I was upset, and Barasil was a nearby target.

He left, but not before giving me the most dejected puppy dog look I've ever seen. The rest of the day quickly drained any wakefulness I possessed. You know you're tired when you bring your hand up to your mouth as you yawn and you're holding something. Often it wasn't anything harmful, a bundle of herbs, a tonic that I accidentally spilt into my own mouth when yawning. But other times I would yawn holding knives, or needles, tools one wouldn't want so close to their face.

The sun was beginning to set when Orophin burst into the talan in a rush. I ran to him, my steps sounded louder or perhaps it was my pulse matching my steps.

"Mithrandir!" He shouted in excitement.

I didn't register what was said. The other Elves in the talan all cheered and many rushed passed him and I. When I reached Orophin he was still shouting his smile was so wide it felt foreign after so much darkness, I patted him down not trusting what I was seeing.

His brows furrowed as he noticed me, and a deep frown replaced the joyful smile he held. "Na- hi narwa loeb?" [Is this red fresh?] I asked him pointing to a red stain on his tunic, then not waiting for a reply I began lifting it up to check for a wound.

He scrambled away from me quickly holding his arms high above him as if he were afraid to touch me, "Narwa," [red] I pointed. I didn't know the word for blood, you would think with as much time I've spent in a healing talan I would have learned it first.

He shook his head weakly, "I am well, mellon nin,"[my friend] His smile returned then and a song could be heard throughout the canopy. It was nothing like these past days of wails and agony, this was a song of renewed hope. Their singing was filled with otherworldly purity and clarity, each note resonating with a profound connection to the natural world.

Mabeth burst through the narrow threshold next repeating the same name as if a chant. When she saw me in my disheveled state she didn't flinch away as Orophin had instead she grabbed my hand and dragged me down the many stairs until we stood along the forest floor.

She too cared for me as much as Barasil, but her cares were easier to shoo away, she never had enough confidence or assurance when I would tell her no. Many times she would come to the healing talan, "Mistress Calliope, I've come to bring you to the dining hall as you requested."

I'd wave my hand toward her, "Not now Mabeth, I'm busy." Her face would fall and she'd nervously look between me and the other healers before bowing her head and dismissing herself.

Barasil was not that way however, he became much like Legolas in regards to being an Elf who didn't listen or bend to my wishes.

I yawned again this time bringing the hand that held hers up to my mouth comically. She patted my arm excitedly and began bouncing on her heels repeating the same name, just as a figure came into view. He seemed to glow with otherworldly power the same way Galadriel did, his raiment was white as was his hair and countenance, this had to be Gandalf.

And if this was Gandalf then what is he doing here now? "What's the date Mabeth?" I asked not taking my eyes off of the wizard.

" It is the 29th of Súlimë," she answered.

Thank you for no help Mabeth.

I stared ahead trying to remember all of Dargan's rants, Gandalf came back I remember that much but wasn't he supposed to help? Shouldn't I be helping?

Mabeth surged forward her clutch on my hand causing me too to surge forward as her questions began spilling from her lips. All the Elves were doing the same, as if under a spell, they turned into children. All crowded around the wizard asking questions about the war, the Fellowship, things he couldn't possibly answer but he did as best as he could.

I found myself asking him similar questions; the desperation to know how Dargan was fairing was too great. He turned to me then and smiled, "Ah, you must be the Lady Calliope." His voice held sympathy, "Lord Manwë said I would find you here. Come now, we are already late."

I didn't release Mabeth's hand as I followed after him so she too was now dragged. "What?"

I cleared my throat, "Actually did this 'Manwë' tell you anything of my friend? Of Dargan?"

He ignored my question shoving politely through the swarms of Elves, "My dear friend should be waiting for us and we are late."

He began answering the Elves in a similar manner, "I am sorry, we are late we have not the time to speak,"

I still haven't understood what we were late to, or why I was needed, perhaps if I wasn't so exhausted I would have fought it. But I didn't, and soon I had let go of Mabeth's hand and found myself needing to jog to keep pace.

I soon found us exiting the city, however, it wasn't the way Dargan and I came in, this one wasn't a wall of green but a beautiful bridge over a river. And standing on the bridge looking incredibly annoyed was a large white horse. He held no saddle or bridle, he looked completely wild.

"My dear friend," Gandalf approached the animal rubbing a wrinkled hand across its back causing the muscles to twitch underneath his touch.

"This is Shadowfax, Lord of the horses; he has been my dear friend." Gandalf gave us a brief introduction as an Elf ran up behind us.

"No! You cannot leave!" It was Barasil, he was panting as if he had run a great distance to catch us.

"Master Barasil, we are already late," Gandalf dismissed as Barasil stepped forward and grabbed my arm pulling me back toward the city. He glared at the wizard, I had never seen him so angry, and even not on the receiving end I felt scared on Gandalf's behalf.

"You cannot leave Calli," his voice held such strong emotion; he rarely called me Calli either. He only started it after I told him it's how I address myself in my mind.

"What do you say when you talk to yourself in your mind?" I had asked, these conversations were always easier and far more enjoyable with Dargan.

"What?" He smiled widely trying to hold back his laughter. His blonde hair looked golden and glowing in the light.

"You know! Like sometimes you'll be frustrated and you'll talk to yourself in your mind. Yesterday I did that I thought, 'Calli you foolish rat,' What do you call yourself in your mind? When you think do you think up your whole name?"

He made a face; it was a face he often made as if he were astonished, as if he were for the first time seeing me. And awkwardly enough, he did not speak to himself in his mind, which is why I prefer Dargan as a speaking partner for such conversations. If I had asked Dargan the same question I'm sure I would have gotten an essay of an answer, a detailed report on how not only did he speak to himself but he spoke to everyone he's ever met in his mind as well.

"Master Barasil, we cannot be delayed," Gandalf said behind us. Barasil pulled my arm again whipping me behind him as he stood in front of me shielding my body from the wizard, "You are not taking her out there." He stated firmly.

"Do not ruin what you have within the Golden Wood as you did in Mirkwood," Gandalf warned outstretching his arm.

Mirkwood? Barasil never told me he lived there before, "I have orders." His back tensed as he held his ground against the wizard.

"As do I, and the King of the Valar holds more authority than your former prince. We are late and I am losing my patience."

"-Let me come with you then," he offered, his voice sounding panicked.

"That is not your path Master Elf, we are late we must leave now, come Lady Calliope." Gandalf gestured toward me, and though I couldn't see his expression through Barasil's back I could tell he meant no harm.

Barasil's shoulders sagged, the next few minutes happened so quickly and all at once. He turned around and held my hand in his, "Return to me, My Lady," He kissed the blisters and callouses tenderly. He didn't release my hand after and held it as he walked me to the horse. I paused our step once bringing our joined hands up to my mouth as I yawned.

He lifted me easily onto the back of the horse, "Return to me, Calli." He repeated, he opened his mouth to speak more but shut it quickly and bowed his head as Gandalf mounted behind me and we set off.

We were riding through the forest when the reality of what I had done set in. I didn't think or question what was happening. I should have stayed! What was I thinking? I didn't even need to be convinced I just drowsily followed along. The tears I shed were quickly dried against the wind.

We had ridden nonstop, I had fallen asleep once but it was far too difficult for someone who has never been on a horse in their life to sleep on such an animal. Even with Gandalf seated behind me and able to brace me. We exited the forest and were riding along a vast plain when I had woken up and shortly after he was helping me dismount and enter into another forest without the horse.

"Thank you, my friend," Gandalf nuzzled the horse's head gently. My legs felt stiff and uncooperative, like wooden planks that had forgotten how to move gracefully.

The entrance to the dark forest is marked by gnarled and twisted trees, their bark ashen and marred by scars. Their branches claw at the sky like skeletal fingers, casting a gloomy pall over the land below. The tangled undergrowth, a tangle of thorns and brambles, forms an impenetrable barrier, daring all who approach to venture further. With each step, a dull ache radiated from my lower back down to my trembling knees, and I couldn't help but wince with each jolt of pain. The relentless jostling of the horse's gait had taken a toll on my body, leaving me feeling as though every bump in the path was a sharp jolt to my sore muscles. Why did it take so long for cars to be invented?

He remained mostly quiet, and I was in shock too much to offer much conversation. I would pause often and cast a fleeting look over my shoulder, to the life I had abandoned. How could I do that? Was I impulsive?

"We're late, they're already here," Gandalf grumbled in front of me.

My shoulders, tense from hours of gripping Shadowfax's mane, drooped with weariness, and my hands ached from the unyielding grip. The simple act of raising my arms to brush away a strand of hair from my face felt like a monumental effort.

The air within the forest is dense and heavy, carrying the scent of damp earth and decay. The silence is punctuated by the occasional caw of crows and the distant hoot of owls, creating a disconcerting symphony of darkness. But there was more, it was the feeling I would get when almost asleep. That jolt, the falling feeling. Accompanied by the occasional near whisper, as if someone was speaking and they were too far away to hear, almost a groan.

The forest floor is blanketed in fallen leaves, their desiccated remains creating a brittle carpet that crunches with each step. Mists hang in the air, obscuring the path ahead, and it's as if the very atmosphere itself is reluctant to reveal the secrets hidden within. I shivered involuntarily, it wasn't necessarily cold. It was definitely colder than it was in the Golden Wood, and leaving so quickly I didn't even have a cloak.

Sunlight struggles to penetrate the canopy of the forest, casting faint, ethereal beams that barely illuminate the tangled undergrowth. This dim, filtered light gives the impression of perpetual twilight, where the line between day and night blurs into a perpetual, eerie gloaming.

Dementia was always curious to me in my schooling, I studied it more than all else, as I knew most hospice cases are dementia-related. Dementia is the loss of cognitive functioning — thinking, remembering, and reasoning — to such an extent that it interferes with a person's daily life and activities. Some people with dementia cannot control their emotions, and their personalities may change. It's an awful disease; being aware the soundness of your mind is slowly ebbing away and not being able to do anything about it.

The amygdala (the brain's fear center) doesn't forget anything that it has deemed as dangerous and doesn't discern whether the threat is real or imagined. This was always interesting in dementia patients, they would often reach a stage they couldn't remember their spouse's name or face, but they could remember how they made them feel.

How cruel, you can't remember the joy of your life but the trauma never disappears.

"The White Wizard approaches!" A voice called from further in front of us, though I could see no one in the darkness side from Gandalf.

"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us."

Gandalf paused his step briefly and turned to me, a mischievous smile on his lips. Trees twist and contort into bizarre shapes, their trunks covered in dark moss, while vines and creepers seem to slither and snake their way around the branches, as if they have a life of their own. Where we were in the forest was getting much darker.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits." Gandalf stepped forward, a light shining from him so bright I had to shield my eyes.

"Where are they?" A voice asked.

"The hobbits passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"Who are you? Show yourself!"

"It cannot be," Gandalf stepped forward and the light receded enough for me to remove my arm and see who stood before him.

"Forgive me. I mistook you for Saruman." My head snapped to that voice. And though being tired and hungry I found myself running to him with all my strength. There was an air of serenity about him, as though he had witnessed secrets hidden deep within the heart of Fangorn, secrets that were now etched into his very soul. He didn't look how he did in the Golden Wood though; he looked ragged, and worn. Legolas' movements, though graceful as ever, held a subtle heaviness. His head was still bowed as I stood before him. I wanted to hold him, I wanted to kiss him, but as I looked around and began to count I realized something was very wrong.

"Where is Dargan?" I squeaked.

Legolas's ears twitched in a feline manner before he looked up. The brightness of his eyes had dimmed to a somber shade. "You gave me your word!" I felt the anger coursing through me giving me renewed strength and with it boldness and disregard for all propriety.

I shoved him; he didn't fly off balance even in his kneeling position, "Where is he?" I demanded.

Legolas didn't answer, he moved with a measure of restraint, as if trying to contain the turmoil within. His hand movements were deliberate, reflecting the careful thought he put into every action. He gently reached out to me as Aragorn's voice broke the silence, "Dargan is with Frodo and Samwise, he knew of Boromir… he tried to stop him."

Legolas looked nothing but pitiful, his eyes were downcast and watery, shame radiated off of him.

"This is no place for a lass," Gimli stated. Yes, Gimli I too share your sentiment, I do not wish to be here. State the obvious Master Dwarf.

"One stage of your journey is over. Another begins. We must travel to Edoras with all speed." Gandalf changed the subject and began walking past all of us and deeper into the forest. Aragorn and Gimli followed after him quickly piping their own commentary, "Edoras? That is no short distance!"

Legolas remained almost frozen in front of me; I shook my head in disgust and followed after the others leaving a kneeling Elf alone on the dirt. How could I have ever trusted his word?

"-Then we have run all this way for nothing? Are we to leave those poor Hobbits here...in this horrid, dark, dank tree-infested-? I mean, charming...quite charming forest." Gimli was again speaking to Gandalf, wishing to continue the search for Merry and Pippin, while no one wanted to search for Dargan.

With each step, my legs seemed to spread apart, creating a noticeable gap between my feet. A bowleggedness, that no matter how hard I tried to straighten my legs the gap never quite left, nor did the soreness.

"It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones...that starts an avalanche in the mountains."

I tuned them out then, brooding. Was Dargan alive? Could we die? He didn't save Boromir but he tried, so how many things have changed as a result? Did he ruin everything?

"Why are you here, when your safety was ordained within the hallowed sanctuary of Lothlórien?" Legolas's soft voice brought me out of my stupor.

Chafed areas along my inner thighs and around my hips were inflamed and irritated, a painful reminder of the relentless rubbing that had occurred with each stride of the horse. I could feel the heat radiating from them. I never wish to ever ride a horse again.

"Piss off," I muttered in reply.

I was never one for vulgarity, yet, just as the only words for comfort when one stubs their toe are curse words, the only thing that brought me comfort now was telling the Elf to piss off. Better to be pissed off than pissed on, Dargan always said.

"-So stop your fretting, Master Dwarf. Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be." Gandalf waved his hand in front of him in dismissal.

The seams and edges of my clothing, once unnoticed, now seemed to conspire against me. The friction of the fabric against my skin was a source of discomfort, and I could feel the beginnings of chafing in places I had never imagined. I wanted nothing more than to lie down in my bed and have Barasil sing to me while playing with my hair, and most of all I wanted salve.

Gimli combed his fingers through his beard, "This new Gandalf's more grumpy than the old one."

Barasil would notice my discomfort instantly; he would have given me a hard look then scooped me into his strong arms and forced his comfort onto me.

We emerged from the forest and were assaulted with the blinding light of the sun. The grassy plains were undulated like a verdant ocean, with the wind causing ripples to dance across the fields. The swaying grasses whispered secrets of the open land, and the scent of the earth and wildflowers filled the air, carried by the gentle breeze. It was much preferred over the forest, which seemed to groan in reply to anything Gimli spoke.

I felt exposed and frightened.

In the distance, we could see the first hints of the White Mountains, their snow-capped peaks shimmering like a distant dream. It was a sight that spoke of the untamed beauty and vastness of Rohan, a land of horse lords and ancient traditions. A beauty I was hoping to leave soon and return to the Golden Wood to await Dargan.

Gandalf whistled a long high loud whistle. From the distance, a great white horse came galloping towards us, Shadowfax.

"That is one of the Mearas...unless my eyes are cheated by some spell," Legolas spoke next to me.

"Ah hell," I groaned thinking about another horse ride. I felt my feet shuffling backward on their own.

Shadowfax came to a regal stop before Gandalf, and his eyes locked with the wizard's, a silent understanding passing between them. Gandalf extended a hand, and Shadowfax nuzzled it gently, a gesture of trust and kinship. With a graceful movement, Gandalf mounted Shadowfax, and the Lord of Horses bore him with a dignified elegance.

Two other horses galloped across the plains following the same path Shadowfax left until they too stood in front of their riders. Legolas and Gimli mounted one and Aragorn wordlessly helped me mount the other while he got on behind and we set off. We set off farther away from home. The contact between my aching thighs and the rough saddle brought a sharp twinge of pain that made me wince. My stiff muscles protested, and the simple act of settling into the saddle was an ordeal in itself.

"The hate you hold onto only hurts you more my friend," Aragorn spoke from behind me. Oh great I get to ride and get lectured. Piss off, Aragorn.

"We must find the strength to forgive and to understand, for our unity is our greatest strength. Calliope," he paused as if thinking carefully as to what to say next, "Calliope, he is punishing himself enough, we all are. We must have hope, we will win this fight, we must have hope. And anger and hope cannot live together."

The plains were anything but flat, though they appeared that way from a distance; they were nothing but rolling hills. Uneven ground, not a fan of that on a horse. Any ground actually, not a fan of.

We made camp along the plains when the sun began to set, Edoras wasn't far but Gandalf thought it best to reach it in the morning instead. As I dismounted from the horse, the pain and discomfort that had accumulated over hours of riding seemed to converge in one overwhelming surge. My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed to the ground with a heavy, involuntary groan. It was laughable and embarrassing, Aragorn was able to run nonstop for days, rode the same horse, and was able to easily dismount, but I was weak.

Legolas was there then, offering a hand to help me up which I refused. My limbs felt heavy and uncooperative, and I had to muster all my strength to push myself into a sitting position.

Aragorn made a few stops for my sake, and also passed me what food he had and water while we rode, but my body even with the breaks did not like it. If I were back in modern-day, I would get a 3,000 dollar urgent care bill, and a prescription for over-the-counter painkillers and numbing cream, even that was preferred to simply ignoring the problem.

A warm campfire crackled to life, casting a soothing, flickering glow over our makeshift campsite. The scent of burning wood filled the air, and the dancing flames offered a sense of comfort and security in the midst of the vast, open plains. Gandalf would take the first watch. I found myself scooting closer to the campfire as the evening wore on, I would however not sit next to Legolas, I chose to sit by Gimli who had managed to kill a small rabbit. So we each enjoyed practically a bite of meat along with our lembas bread. One rabbit didn't go far with so many mouths to feed.

"She shouldn't be here," Legolas hissed at Gandalf in Sindarin. Great now the Elf who refuses to piss off is going to be tone-deaf enough to talk of me in front of me.

"The past and the future are woven together, and our actions ripple through time, like stones cast into a tranquil pond," Gandalf replied in the Common tongue.

"She needs to go back! She shouldn't be here," Legolas argued again causing the wizard to turn his head to the side.

"How interesting," he murmured looking between me and the Elf, "how interesting indeed."

I glared at Legolas, I wanted to yell, tell him my Sindarin had improved enough for me to understand him. I wanted to curse him, tell him I can go where I cottonpickin' wanna go. Though we were both in agreeance, I should not be here, and I needed to go back.

I stood up as Aragorn and Gandalf went a ways away from camp to speak, Legolas stared at me from across the fire. His eyes were galled and glowed in the firelight. Gimli was already snoring, lying on his side wrapped like a burrito in his cloak. I hugged my body as I hobbled into the plains, I didn't offer a reason for my wandering and none asked. I couldn't go far.

I hobbled only far enough to find a clover patch and began picking the soft leaves. Clover was used more for its antiseptic properties, than pain reliever but it was the only plant I could recognize in the dim light. The main bioactive compounds in clover species are estrogenic isoflavones: daidzein, genistein, formononetin, biochanin A, coumestrol, and naringenin. Minor compounds include other flavonoids, pterocarpans, coumarins, and tyramine. Red clover is mainly used as a phytoestrogen for the treatment of menopause symptoms and bone and cardiovascular health support during pre-menopause or menopause.

It was the herbal route many women I knew took when they didn't want actual drugs. I began nibbling on the leaves, trying not to look to closely at them, who knows what critters called those leaves home or what might have just stepped on them before. Estrogen has naturally anti-inflammatory effects. This can help reduce pain and swelling in your joints if you have arthritis, or hopefully, in my case, it would help the swelling and pain in my muscles and chafing of my thighs.

In modern times it's become common for hormone treatments to be used to treat pain and fatigue; there are IV clinics with billboards and advertisements claiming a dose of testosterone will help them with all of their woes. Low testosterone can contribute to a decrease in motivation or self-confidence. Want to get that promotion from your boss? Come to the IV drip lounge and become the man you always wanted to be.

Clover tastes disgusting, it is nothing like broccoli and I can see why everything in modern times is in pill and capsule form.

"This will help," Aragorn spoke in front of me, his hands held the most valuable substance in all of Arda. Salve.

I greedily took it from his outstretched hands, and didn't even warn him as I hurriedly began untying my pants. His eyes widened and he chuckled and turned around, he didn't walk away, however, and soon began speaking as slathered myself like a slug.

"That plant you were eating, it's for healing?" He asked.

"It's used more for …" I tried to think of a word he would understand, "Female-related problems, but it does help with pain yes."

"I'll have to keep that in mind, thank you." I could hear the smile in his voice.

We continued speaking, him with his back to me and me basking in the slime. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed his company, Aragorn truly was easy to converse with, he had such an easygoing attitude. We talked of many things, mostly lighthearted topics.

"-During one particularly peaceful night ashore, Gimli's snores rang through the woods like the call of a horn."

I laughed clapping my hands together after I pulled my pants up, he still had his back to me though, "The night was calm, and the stars shone brightly in the sky. The rest of us lay in our bedrolls, enjoying the tranquility of the night, when suddenly, the most thunderous snoring erupted from Gimli's direction."

His voice took a slightly different tone when he spoke again, "Boromir woke then in almost a frenzy, in his half-awake state he thought it was the Great Horn. He stumbled into the coals of the fire; sword raised, battle-ready, heading for the sound of the horn to aid Gondor…" He trailed off.

I saved him then standing on my shaky legs, but not at all painful, "Thank you Aragorn. We should return to camp, maybe we'll all be exhausted enough to sleep despite it."

He turned to me and extended an arm to me to help me back to camp which I greatly appreciated. Legolas was still there, seated in the same position glowering at the embers. Aragorn patted my shoulder twice as he walked across the campsite as far away as he could possibly get from Gimli without being too far in case there was danger.

I was exhausted but my mind wouldn't allow me to rest, seeing Aragorn lying still and Gimli drooling only made me feel envious. The fire had died down and little light or heat was emanating from it. As the night deepened and a chill settled over the camp, I couldn't help but shiver from the cold. The temperature had dropped, and the open plains of Rohan offered little shelter from the biting wind that swept across the landscape. I wanted to pace, but I knew that wouldn't help my legs by morning and now was the first time I've felt pain-free.

I yawned, and stared at the same spot in the embers Legolas stared at.