Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings. I wish I did. Boromir never would've died if I had my way.

Rain Shall Pass.

Chapter T.H.R.E.E.

_"Surprise"_

"Meeting expectations is good. Exceeding expectations is better." -Ron Kaufman

"What's your dream?"

"My dream?"

"Yeah, like, what's the one thing you want to happen?"

"Well, you go first. Tell me what your dream is."

She grinned. "To become an actress!" That was such a typical answer from her. She would make it big in that spotlight.

I hummed, thinking carefully before smiling. "I think I'd like to see the ocean. Just once, though."

"That's such a short-term dream!" She laughed, amused. "Besides, it's just a body of water. It's no different than the lakes that surround us."

I kept my smile despite her disbelief. I knew that was what I wanted in this moment. "Maybe so, but isn't it every mid-westerner's dream to see something that feels so far out of our reach because of where we live? Your dream is the same as mine. You won't make it big if you stay here, just like I'll never see the ocean if I stay here."

That definitely could've gone better.

I groaned into my hands, hunching over my knees as I plopped down onto a stone bench in the gardens. My heart continued to race as if I had run a marathon, beating almost painfully against my chest. I allowed myself for only a second to feel the intense rhythm before I took a deep breath, holding it in, and then releasing it in a harsh exhale. In for five, out for three, and repeat. Little thought was needed to do the calming exercise, the motions familiar and easy to lose myself in.

It could've gone better.

Damn, why was he here so early? Didn't Boromir show up right before the Council of Elrond had been summoned? No, he showed up early? Damn, no, that couldn't be right. I exhaled sharply, tentatively allowing myself to drag up memories of a time when I watched this movie in the safety of a simple two story house surrounded by sturdy walls and a warm fireplace. I'd spent the better part of three years ignoring these memories, part of me still denying this was even happening and the other part of me logically saying that I'd accidentally let slip of my knowledge if I pondered too much on it.

Lord Elrond was a shrewd, shrewd elf and I knew there was no lying to him. My respect for him knew no bounds and I could not bring myself to disrespect him in such a way. My teeth sank into my lip, guilt churning in my gut. Even though by all technicalities, I was already doing him that disrespect by not telling him my true origins.

I was never a liar and couldn't tell one properly even if it would save my life. It was a miracle in and of itself that I had gone this long without anyone suspecting anything.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, a snide voice whispered that maybe Lord Elrond already had his suspicions and was just waiting to confront me about it. I ruthlessly shoved that voice away.

Closing my eyes, a hazy image started to take shape in my mind. The stone archway standing tall in the courtyard, the clapping of hooves on stone and suddenly, a man came charging in on horseback. He glanced around for only a second before he disappeared and was replaced instead with a circular platform that was lined with chairs, all of which were occupied by the Free People of this world. And there he was, sitting amongst his race with guarded eyes and casting suspicious glances at the Heir of Isildur.

Yes, he had to of arrived right before the Council started. That's what happened. My brow furrowed. Then again, time flowed differently in movies, so maybe it was a day or two beforehand? No, that couldn't be right. Or was it?

Grey eyes flashed to the forefront of my mind and even though he wasn't here, I still felt myself tense up at the sheer animosity that had been in those eyes. I had my fair share of people who didn't like me and to hell with them all because I couldn't care less who liked me or not, but I'd never had such an intense emotion directed at me in such a head on way before. It made my heart start to race again and sweat to form in my hands.

I don't know what I could've possibly done to warrant the Son of Gondor's anger so quickly and in such a short amount of time.

God, that really could've gone a lot better than how it did.

"Fuck," I cursed in English, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes until black spots dotted my vision. "This can't be right. It's not lining up at all."

I regretted not paying closer attention to the books. I knew the movies, but the books? Bits and pieces. Was I following the movies or the books? Or a combination of both?

Please don't let it be a combination.

I'd been so careful. Or I tried to be. Damn being a human because there was no resisting getting close to the people here. Lord Elrond because he refused to let grief and anger swallow me whole. Arwen for drawing me out of my safe haven and giving me sweet smiles. Lindir for stepping up and being my teacher and lending an ear to me when everything became too much. And Tobrien...damn Tobrien especially for constantly being my shadow and offering me the kind of support anyone would be lucky to have on their side. I couldn't keep them at a distance no matter how hard I tried. How could anyone?

I was in a place where nothing was familiar to me. From the language and the clothes and the Free People races. None of it was familiar to me. And go figure, the second someone shows even a shred of kindness, someone offers me a lick of companionship, attachments were formed. A hesitant friendship slowly started to build, then came fondness whenever I thought about them, and now I was in so deep that I began to wonder how I'd fair if I ever did leave them behind.

This is so wrong. I have to go home. I can't stay here.

The plot had already been set. Written in a time where none of this was even possible in the modern era. Characters would die, others would live, and this world would thrive in less than two years because that Ring would be destroyed and evil would perish. The slightest ripple could change that future. A changed decision could ruin everything. Granted, my presence here probably wasn't helping that. I'd landed in this world with a huge splash and no amount of subtlety.

For God's sake, I'd spent the better part of a day shouting for my sister in the wilderness after realizing she was no longer by my side. It's no wonder Aragorn had found me so easily.

"Ah, but I haven't really done anything to warrant the plot changing, right?" I muttered, clasping my hands tightly in my lap and staring fixedly at the emerald ring on the middle finger of my left hand. It was slightly dirty and needed to be cleaned again. "I haven't influenced any major changes surely. The main plot hasn't even started yet. I've stayed away from the main cast for the most part, excluding Aragorn." I snorted, scowling angrily. "But that's all my fault, I guess. Man has a moral streak a mile long and I wasn't exactly being quiet."

Stay away from the plot. That was the logical thing to do. Find my sister and get the hell out of here. That was the plan and the only one that I needed right now. This world would work itself out just like it did in the movies and that would be that. Everything would be peachy. My religious mother would balk if she ever heard my thoughts and my military father would be ever so disappointed. Her religion and his military station dictated that they help anyone who needs or asks for it. They could never turn their backs on people who were desperate for some form of salvation.

But damn it all, I wasn't brave. I was scared and unsure and a coward. I didn't believe in the power of a higher deity and being part of the military didn't make you invincible. I was a grown adult, but in this moment, sitting here in Lord Elrond's empty garden surrounded by trees with golden leaves and an unfamiliar dress, I felt vastly out of my depth.

Three years have come and gone. In that time frame, all I'd managed to do was learn two languages and spent some time trying to memorize maps that would never tell me where my sister could be. Barely any effort had been spent trying to gather together a plan to actually go looking for her so we could leave. Was home even a possibility? How would we ever get back? And if going home wasn't an option, what would happen then? Was my sister alive? Where was she? Mom and Dad...how devastated were they when they realized their only two children were missing?

It hit me like a brick and bile rose up my throat.

What have I been doing all this time?

You're a coward, Asherah Lynn. Making sure you were good and comfortable with no care in the world for your sister. Failure.

Overcome with a fit of unruly anger, I leapt to my feet and scooped up the closest rock, hurling it as hard as I could. It collided loudly with a trunk a few feet away, thumping to the ground pitifully. My fingers clenched around the folds of my dress and I couldn't help the frustrated cry that escaped my lips, snarling as my eyes stung with barely suppressed tears.

I was beginning to crack.

How did one lousy meeting with the Son of Gondor equal having a come to Jesus moment?

"Oh, Gwathren, what is on your mind that troubles you so much that you resort to violence?"

I snapped my head away from the voice, my breath hitching in my chest uncomfortably. If one was here, the other was not very far behind. "Go away, Elrohir, Elladan. I am in no mood to speak with either of you right now."

There was silence and then the sound of clothes rustling together and a body settled itself down delicately on the bench, shifting to get comfortable before quieting. A hand brushed against my shoulder. "For once, we can see you do not care for our jokes and tricks, Asherah," Elladan said. "Come. Sit with us and tell us what is on your mind. Maybe we can help."

"I don't need help," I insisted despite the crack in my voice. "I'm fine. I just need some space."

One of them hummed. Elrohir, I think. "Yes, normally giving you space in the past has always been helpful in cooling your temper, but I don't think that's the case now. You are worked up in a way I've never seen before."

"I agree," Elladan said. The hand on my shoulder tensed minutely, fingers carefully pulling in a not so subtle coax to move backwards. "Please, Gwathren, indulge us. We are your friends, yes? Don't friends listen to each other's problems?"

Well, when he puts it that way, he wasn't wrong. Good friends would do that for each other. I turned my head enough to look at the two out of the corner of my eye, not hiding the lone tear that fell down my cheek. Perfectly identical in every way. Dark-haired and grey-eyed, with fair elven features, Elladan and Elrohir were a sight to behold in a house that was ruled with blondes. They were what I imagined Lord Elrond to look like when he was their age.

Elves didn't age like humans did, I'd come to realize. Their hair didn't lose its color, their bodies didn't become brittle, and wrinkles never set into their perfect skin. They remained eternal, never changing, going against what I considered to be normal. It was odd and set me on edge at times. I only knew Lord Elrond was older than the average elf because of his eyes.

Eyes that were fathomless, eyes that seemed to see right through me and straight into my soul. So very wise and all-knowing. Eyes that Elladan and Elrohir didn't quite have just yet.

Those exact eyes were currently boring into the one they could see of mine, expectant but not probing, and silently begging me to let them be there in some way without them having to say it outright. There were no teasing smiles, no mischievous glints. They were so serious.

Stay away from the plot. Elladan and Elrohir aren't central, but they're still characters. Stay away.

I was so weak-willed and my resolve crumbled around me.

I allowed Elladan to lead me down onto the bench before he sat on my otherside, crossing his ankles and leaning back onto his hands in a faux relaxed position. Elrohir smiled and asked, "Talk to us, Asherah. What troubles you so that you take it out on the trees?"

In the heat of a moment, I had no shame admitting what I was feeling. Whether I was angry, happy, sad, whatever, I didn't hide any of it. I would make myself be known. Any situation outside of that, however, made something unpleasant swirl in my stomach and I had a hard time opening my mouth without feeling like I was whining or being childish. I was grown, damn it.

Elladan seemed to catch on to my turmoil, surprisingly. Normally Elrohir was more astute to my thoughts. "Ah, perhaps we are asking the wrong question," He said lightly. "Did something happen that put you in such an unpleasant mood?"

That was something I could latch onto easier. "I think I might have made someone angry," I admitted lowly. It wasn't the direct cause to my inner dilemma, but it would provide an easier outlet to explain away.

"Is that so?" They chimed together, amusement obvious in their voices. They tried so hard to keep it from being obvious, but being the butt of their jokes for so long made it easy for me to hear it. I frowned at them, unimpressed. "Don't make that face, Asherah. You know we are taking you seriously," Elrohir assured.

"Do tell," Elladan pressed, "who is the unfortunate soul that has faced your wrath this time?"

"I didn't verbally attack anyone, you two," I said indignantly, flushing at their dubious looks. "I didn't. I literally only said one word to him and if his eyes could shoot lasers, I'm sure I'd be dead by now."

They took my switching languages in stride, neither asking me to translate as they both knew I was completely hopeless explaining my English words. "A man, you say?" Elladan hummed thoughtfully, giving his brother a look. "Perhaps our friend ran into one of the delegates arriving today?"

"Very likely," He agreed. "And if it was a human man, it would not surprise me that they were riled being greeted by Asherah." His lips pulled back into a grin, teeth shining merrily at me. "Stuffy people, the human delegates are. They were probably expecting Father himself to greet them the second they came riding in." Elladan laughed at that.

"I have no doubt of that," He said. "Disappointed, they will be, once they realize he is far too busy at the moment to entertain human traditions."

If the delegates were anything like the old-fashioned politicians back home, I'd readily agree with the twins. It was odd being greeted in a, by all rights, royal household by anyone other than the Lord of the house. Boromir may be the Son of the current residing Steward of Gondor, but I never got a...stuffy vibe from him. In the movies or in person. Granted, his character was hardly expanded on and there was still a lot of detail about him missing that would help fill in the blanks.

But in this time frame, men were at least respectful to women, right? Obviously they view us as the weaker sex and unable to protect ourselves, so being that he's practically royalty, I would've thought Boromir would've learned manners towards women at some point in his upbringing.

But I could be wrong. Maybe he was just a dick to women, period. I had to fight back a scowl at that. Oh, please. Let me catch him talking to Tobrien or Arwen in a disrespectful manner. I don't know what punishments befitted women here, but the human delegates would be short a person regardless. At least I'll have Aragorn backing me up in Arwen's case. He'd never tolerate that kind of attitude directed towards her.

Arwen wouldn't either, now that I thought about. The woman had a will of steel behind that kind smile and gentle eyes.

"I don't know if that's the case," I said stiffly, "but either way, the man doesn't like me much. I don't care for his reasons, but that's how it is right now."

Elrohir chuckled. "That sounds more like the Asherah I know." I sniffed at that, ignoring the careful fingers that brushed against my neck. Both twins were shockingly very touchy-feely, neither having any shame in brushing their fingers against my elbows, hair, whatever they could reach that allowed them to express what they were feeling to me.

It was heart-warming, reminding me of my mother, who was the exact same way.

"Tell me," Elrohir began, "is that really what is plaguing your mind? A man gave you a bad look and it honestly unsettled you enough like this?"

"Yes," I lied through my teeth, not sparing him a glance for fear that he would see right through me.

Even without looking at him, Elrohir obviously did not believe me. Elladan didn't either.

"Surely that's not what's bothering you," Elladan inquired, arching a dark brow and pressing for answers that he knew I wasn't going to give without the right motivation. "I've never gotten the impression from you that you cared for what strangers thought of you." I didn't answer his unspoken question, tilting my head down enough that my hair fell forward to cover both sides of my face from the searching gazes on both sides of me.

Elrohir was silent, thinking deeply before he sighed, his fingers applying more pressure to the back of my neck comfortingly. I deflated when I felt the understanding hit him from the gesture. "I see now," He murmured. "You are still hung up on your sister."

Elladan huffed a curse, rubbing a hand down his face as he reached the same thought process as his twin. "How insensitive of me," He admitted. "That never once crossed my mind."

"She is out there, Gwathren," Elrohir whispered gently. "You know she is. We know she is. It's only a matter of time before she shows her face again."

"My brother is right," Elladan nodded. "She's out there. You just need a push in the right direction so you know where to start looking."

That was so easy for them to say. The earlier anger returned with a vengeance, red seeping into the corners of my vision. Anger at myself, again for my situation, for everything. Self-hatred was a toxic trait every human possessed and it ran strong in me at this point.

"But when will I get that push," I exclaimed loudly, both men twitching at my loud voice. It must be harsh on their sensitive ears. "I've wasted years here in Rivendell. I've done nothing for her except learn the language. What have I actually done for her?"

"More than you think," Elladan said firmly, Elrohir nodding in agreement. I scoffed at him, getting to my feet and began pacing away from them. "You could've wasted your time here doing absolutely nothing. You could've not learned how to speak Westron and Sindarin and spent your time wasting away in your room like you did that first week."

"Planning takes time," Elrohir said wisely. "Arda is a vast land. Being that you're a foreigner, you are extremely lucky to have stumbled into Imladris for we harbor a great deal of information about the lands. Though I am sure Rohan or Gondor would have helped you, they would not educated you the way we have."

"And why do you say that?" I asked shortly, the question entirely rhetoric. "Because I'm a woman?"

"Because you are a woman," Elrohir emphasized. "You are a woman and not nobility. Gondor would not have done much because you have no connections that would benefit the upper class or the Steward. Rohan is more open to women stepping up as they have their own Shieldmaidens who defend their hearth and land with strength like that of a man and have earned the respect they rightfully deserve."

"I feel like there's a but in that sentence," I said, nudging a rock loose and kicking it away.

Elladan shrugged uncomfortably. "The Shieldmaiden lines have dwindled. Now only one line remains if I'm correct and that is King Theoden's line. His niece. A fierce woman according to Estel, but she is only one woman. Rohan is more open than Gondor, but women, Shieldmaiden or not, do not have much power in the land of the Horselords. Their duty is to their homes and nothing more."

"This land is archaic," I hissed under my breath, irritated. I knew after my first month in Rivendell women didn't play vital roles like they did in my time. It was exactly like what I used to read in History class about the Colonial time periods where women had no say and the men made all the decisions. Except instead of reading about it, my 21st century ass was experiencing it, good and bad all at the same time.

"Speak your mind, Gwathren," Elladan chuckled. "We cannot understand you when you mumble in that strange language of yours."

"I'm not used to the customs in this land," I said instead. "I'm so used to being able to move freely and do what I wanted because it was what needed to be done. Now, I have to basically ask for permission before I can even breath."

"Do not be so dramatic," Elrohir said, grey eyes watching me pace a trench into the ground. "You are here in Imladris. Father has always allowed us to speak our minds."

"To an extent," I retorted. "Lord Elrond is still Lord of the Last Homely House. He deserves a level of respect that I have yet to fully experience in comparison to my life back home."

"Father will never punish you for speaking out," Elrohir said adamantly. "He has always been open to hearing the inner voices of others and taking them into consideration."

"And do you believe he'd actually let me venture off on my own?" I demanded. A quick look at Elladan showed me the uncertain frown on his lips and it was answer enough for me. The stony silence that followed was enough to make both elves shift in place uncomfortably.

Lord Elrond was a just man. Er, elf. He firmly believed in right and wrong, good and bad, rewards and consequences. I knew he would never hold me prisoner here, but neither would he let me wander off without making sure I was prepared enough to face what I was walking into. Which then revolved around my inability to use any sort of weapon except my fists and my nonexistent knowledge of how to look after myself in the wild. Which then revolved around the fact that not many elves in Rivendell were free enough to teach me these things without taking them away from their own duties.

I was stuck in an infinity loop that gave me no cracks to slip through to even attempt to do these things.

Elrohir murmured something to Elladan in Sindarin, low enough that I didn't catch what he said. Whatever it was, Elladan seemed to agree because his face turned thoughtful and he tilted his head curiously. He replied back to his brother and gave me an inquisitive look. "You want to find your sister?"

I gave him a baffled look, anxiety churning in my gut but determination rising as well. "Of course I do."

Both men gave me wide smiles, instantly setting me on alert at the sheer amount of daring that showed in those smiles. "We have an idea for you, Gwethren. Would you like to listen?"

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Okay?" I drawled the word out unsurely.

"The first step is finding you a better outfit. And the next is making sure we have the training grounds to ourselves tomorrow morning."

Merry wasn't sure what hurt more for him. His feet. His back. His head. His heart. His stomach. By the Valar, maybe he should just come outright and say that his whole body hurt. It hadn't been so bad in the beginning when himself, Pip, Frodo, and Sam had set the pace that would benefit them. Minus all the stops they'd made for food, of course, but he thought they'd been making great time to Bree after prying that little bit of information from Frodo.

Then they'd met Strider and by the last pack of Longbottom Leaf hidden safely in his bag, he'd never doubt where the man had gotten that nickname. He was relentless, setting a much faster pace than any of them would ever be used to. They'd crossed more leagues than they'd gotten through in four days in just a single day. And despite that progress, Strider had been disappointed with it, his shadowed face growing tense and worried.

Which, in the end, spurred the Hobbits into the same worrying spiral as the Man.

And then Frodo had gotten hurt. Devastatingly hurt, his pale skin turning pale as the moon hovering the sky and breaths weak and strangled. Merry had never feared as much as he did in that moment. Not when Gandalf had caught him and Pip in their many shenanigans. Not when Farmer Maggot had sent his evil dogs after them for stealing his crops. In that moment, fear had consumed Merry straight to his core. His love for food had all but disappeared, his want for a good smoke gone, all that preoccupied him in that moment was the fact that Frodo was seriously hurt and Strider didn't have the healing capabilities to help his friend.

Their savior came in the form of a female elf, one tall and fair and dark-haired and if Merry hadn't been so absorbed in worrying over Frodo, he would've spent much more time marveling at the beauty that was before him. Because such radiance deserved to be acknowledged and admired, but he couldn't find it in him to spare the elf more than a moment's glance before half his attention focused back on his wheezing friend and the other half listening to her and Strider argue in Elvish.

He'd been shocked when the Strider had effortlessly scooped Frodo off the ground and mounted the near unconscious Hobbit into the elf's saddle, strapping him down as best as he could with how short Frodo was compared to the elf's saddle tailored to her tall form. Of course he'd protested with the other two, pointing out the Riders were still hunting for them and that it was dangerous for her to go alone. She shouldn't go alone with no way to protect both herself and Frodo, who could barely keep his head up, much less defend himself.

Their words fell on deaf ears and the elf woman only locked eyes with the three remaining Hobbits long enough to give them a confident smile before she tapped her heels against the flanks of her steed and then they were gone, disappearing into the underbrush and away from their pleading gazes.

Now, after days of stumbling through the wilderness with little to no sleep and very little precious time to eat, Merry had never been so happy to Rivendell. It didn't bring up fondness and peace like the Shire always did, but instead a sense of relief that they were finally safe from the dangers that had been trailing them since arriving in Bree. Merry knew they'd be safe here for the time being.

Pippin fumbled at his side and Merry quickly held his arm out to steady his cousin, who had just enough energy to pass him a grateful look before peeling his eyes away and concentrating once more on putting one foot in front of the other. He could hear Sam behind him, breathing heavily, and dragging his feet beside the pony they had bought in Bree. The once horribly skinny creature had gained a steady amount of weight and Merry was happy to see that the pony no longer looked forlorn and sad but healthy and happy to be with their small company.

"Rivendell," He heard Strider breath and Merry relaxed at hearing the sheer pleasure in the man's voice. Yes, they were safe here. "Welcome to the Last Homely House, Master Hobbits. You may rest easy now for no foul creature of Mordor will enter this sanctuary."

"I'll rest easy when I know where Mister Frodo is," Sam grumbled under his breath. Merry agreed silently with him, but didn't dare test Strider's patience at the moment. They'd all been through a lot and Merry wasn't too keen on getting another stern lecture from the Man. Tension had obviously left his shoulders, but that didn't mean he was ready to deal with a group of worried Hobbits who didn't know when to mind their own.

"Come, you all," Strider urged, his long legs picking up speed. Merry almost groaned out loud at pushing his sore feet more so than they already were. "I shall lead you to some rooms. Then I shall locate Lord Elrond and find out Frodo's well-being." That lightened their spirits immediately, all of them moving quickly to keep up with the Man's longer strides.

Merry had to admit, Rivendell was beautiful. It wasn't like the Shire, which was all rolling hills and grassy knolls and trees and had the permanent smell of cooking food in the air. Instead of all that, it was golden leaves, the scent of nature, and a tall home that expanded across the whole valley with its pure white structure. Add in the elves that smiled beautiful smiles at them and bowed their heads to acknowledge them, it was almost a fairytale. It was something that blew even his own wild imagination away.

They even passed some Dwarves, who merely gave them suspicious looks and grunts as a form of greeting. Men were wandering around, as well. Tall men with fine clothing that was not riddled with rips and tears and covered in dirt and sweat. One man with shoulder-length brown hair and light eyes caught them staring at him. He stopped in place, leaving the rest of the group to go on without him. He dipped his head at them, casting what Merry thought to be a glare to his right before turning on his heel and hurrying away.

That was strange.

"Do you think they'll give us some food soon?" Pippin whispered excitedly, head whipping here and there as he tried to take everything in at once.

"I'm sure they will, Pip," Merry said. "Worst comes to worst, we can always go searching for it ourselves." Pippin grinned widely, ecstatic at the thought of raiding what was bound to be a vast amount of food.

"Don't go causing trouble already, you two," Sam admonished sharply, having heard their whispers. "We've only just arrived and we're guests to the elves. Don't go offending them because you couldn't be patient."

"Oh come on, Sam," Pippin wheedled. "Don't tell you're not thinking the same way."

"I only wish to know how Mister Frodo is doing," Sam sniffed primly, a hand reaching up to brush reassuringly at his pony, who tossed his mane and made a snuffling sound.

"Well, we can do that and find food," Merry said smartly. "Knock out two birds with one stone, as Bilbo would say!"

"Blasted Brandybuck and Took," Sam cursed, shaking his head at Merry and Pippin, who only allowed laughter to ring out in response.

Merry tilted his head when a curious sound reached his ears. He paused mid-step, listening and ignoring Sam's grumbles when he had to come to a halt right behind him lest he run into Merry's back. A second later and he heard it again, turning his head in the direction he'd heard it to hear better.

Hadn't that been the direction the Man had been looking in? He wondered.

The sound of a body hitting the ground hard and a groan echoed out. He heard a faint voice laughingly say, "Now's not the time for sleeping, Gwathren. Up, up!"

"The day is still short! Up, up!"

"I am not sleeping, you blasted slave drivers!"

Now that was a language he'd never heard before. It sounded a lot like Westron, but he couldn't quite make sense of the words being said. Curious, Merry glanced ahead to where Strider had gone and was surprised to see an amused smile on his lips. The man detoured from the stone path, stepping onto a used nature path that Merry had no doubt would lead him closer to the voices. Intrigued, Merry absently motioned for Pippin and Sam to follow and rushed after Strider. He swatted at a branch that had caught at his curly hair and when he looked forward once more, he was suddenly in an open clearing.

Multiple wooden targets stood stationary along one side of the field, bows made of fine wood set up on a rack nearby with their arrows not too far off. He wiggled his tones into the soft grass and found himself thinking of the Shire, breaking from his reverie when a loud thumping sound caught his attention. Looking to his right, he saw two identical elves, both dark of hair and pale and grinning lips on their faces as they stared down at the figure that lay at their feet.

A woman? Merry's eyes widened at the sight of her. Such bright hair! It was almost like the cooking fires back home, long and curly and absolutely covered in leaves and grass. She wasn't facing him, but Merry could see the faint dark undertone of her skin from her exposed shoulders, along with an even darker outline of...something crawling across her shoulder blades and disappearing into her tunic. He wondered what it was. The woman heaved a groan and shoved her hair back over her ears and a shiny glint had him even more perplexed.

What in the name of the Shire was in her ears?!

"You can do better than that, Gwathren," One elf teased, holding his hand for her. Merry was shocked when she shooed it away, rising back to her feet on her own. "Come now, again! No time to waste!"

"I know, I know," She snapped. Her voice was light and high, like a musical note. Merry knew she was human for she had not the pointy ears of an elf, but he thought she sure sounded like one. "You two aren't exactly making this easy for me by ganging up on me like this!"

"What better way to learn than by stacking the odds against you!" The other twin trilled merrily, dancing around her on silent feet. She half-heartedly swung her arm out, just barely catching the sleeve of his shirt as he spun out of her reach. "Better to start overwhelmed than make it easy on you!"

She grumbled something in that strange language again, but the twins seemed to have found it funny because they laughed once more at her disgruntlement and motioned for her to continue whatever it was she had been doing before.

"Why do you subject yourself to these devious twins, my Lady?" Strider called, grey eyes shining with amusement as he walked towards them. The Hobbits hastily dogged his footsteps, curious but wary of these strangers that Strider obviously seemed to know. The twins spun around, their smiles becoming wider. They laughed and embraced the stoic man Merry had slowly come to respect over the past who knows how many days. Surprise was in the air today because once again, Merry was befuddled even more when Strider only chuckled and heartily embraced the twins latched around each shoulder.

"Estel, it is so good to see you!" They chimed together, obviously excited to see him. "It has been far too long. You must make time later and tell us all of your adventures! You are long overdue!"

Strider bellowed out a laugh and promised them he would, patting their shoulders. His attention towards the woman who had planted herself behind the twins, shuffling in place in an awkward and impatient manner. Merry finally got a good look at her eyes and was spell-bound. Such a combination of colors! He'd never seen such a mixture of green and blue and brown before in the Shire.

"My Lady," Strider dipped his head in greeting, a small smile quirking his lips. She returned his bow, face smooth except for a politeness that had Merry confused. "I am relieved to see you are doing well. Has Rivendell been treating you good since last I saw you?"

"It has," She said simply. "I am never bored and there is always something to do to keep my mind occupied." She tilted her head. "And you? Have your travels been kind to you?" Her eyes swept up and down his form, her nose wrinkling at the dirt that clung to his clothes, face, and hair. "You need a bath," She blurted out. Her eyes widened and a blush covered her cheeks, her lips pinching in embarrassment as she sharply looked away.

Merry thought it was very endearing and he found he instantly liked this woman. A quick look at Pippin and his cousin was equally enthralled.

The twin on the left laughed, clapping Strider on the arm. "The Lady is right, brother," He said. Merry had to do a double-take because what, Strider was related to these people? "Let us talk later! We are in the middle of an exercise with Gwathren right now and it seems like your companions are also in desperate need of a good wash and food!"

"Yes, do not let us stop you from your journey," The other twin insisted. "There is plenty of time for talk later. We shall find you once you've rested!"

Strider waved away their concerns. "We are not far from our destination, brothers," He assured, "but I will heed your advice and be on my way." He motioned towards the three Hobbits standing behind him. "An introduction before I go or I fear I will be considered rude for not doing so the second we interrupted you three. Master Hobbits, these are my brothers, Elrohir," The one on the left waved, "and Elladan," The right one wiggled his fingers and Pippin muffled a snort behind his hand. Strider gestured to the woman, who merely blinked at the three sets of eyes that were razer-focused on her. "And this is Lady Asherah, a ward of Imladris and Lord Elrond."

Asherah.

A foreign name. Very, very foreign. Merry had never heard such a name before, but he found that it suited the strange woman with the fiery hair and strange eyes. She blinked once before dipping her head respectfully. Her eyes caught Merry's and he smiled brightly at her. Those different eyes widened slightly before settling back into what he was shocked to see a guarded expression.

Had he done something wrong?

A hand rested on his messy curls, ruffling them gently. "This is Meriadoc Brandybuck." Strider ignored the "Please call me Merry!" and pointed to Pippin. "Peregrin Took." Pippin waved energetically with a "I prefer Pippin!" Finally Strider ushered Sam and his pony forward, clasping his shoulder. "And this is Samwise Gamgee and Bill the pony. They are Hobbits of the Shire, located in northern Eriador."

"What a distance you have travelled!" Elrohir exclaimed. "My respect for the young masters has grown much."

"As has mine," Elladan agreed. "Yours is a story I am most eager to hear, young Hobbits."

"Isn't there supposed to be four of you?" Asherah questioned suddenly. Those sharp eyes roved over the three Hobbits present, but in no way was it intimidating or cruel. Merry realized that she had a strong gaze, just like Strider. "Tobrien informed me that you were arriving with four and yet, I only see three."

"Mister Frodo was hurt a few days ago," Sam said by explanation. "A lady elf came and said she was bringing him here."

Elrohir nodded. "Ah, yes. Arwen arrived late last night with him. He was in bad shape according to Father, but have no fear, my friends! Father is the best healer around and I have no doubt in my mind that your friend is in good hands right now."

"That is good!" Strider breathed in relief. "Come, Hobbits. Let us make haste to get you all situated and then we shall go find Frodo."

Sam eagerly agreed to this plan, already turning Bill around and making his way back to the stone path they had arrived on. Merry and Pippin dawdled behind, casting furtive glances at each other before making one last eye contact with the mysterious Lady Asherah.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss," Merry said politely, bowing. He nudged Pippin, who hastily ducked into his own clumsy bow.

"Oh, yes! A very great pleasure, Miss!"

She said nothing for a solid minute, brown-blue-green eyes seeming to stare straight into their souls before she acknowledged them with a small, graceful bow of her own. "You, too," She whispered.

Merry and Pippin unanimously decided that they wanted this foreign girl to become their friend.

A/N: I know, just a glimpse of Boromir this chapter, I'm sorry. He was not wanting to be fit in this chapter like I had wanted, but that's okay because I tricked him into making a small appearance at the end. There will be more to come, I promise!

Thank you to the kind reviewers for their kind words last chapter. Your words spur me on ever more and fill me with happiness that my interpretation is liked.

Thank you for reading!