1 / 2 / 25 ~ And in which Eleanor speaks with three Maia.

Disclaimer:"The Lord of the Rings" is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien. I only claim ownership over Eleanor Dace, Rávamë (aka "Tink"), and the subsequent plot of their story.

Part III : Chapter 25

-Eyes of the Enemy-

"Do you think primordial spirits can get cavities?"

The dream had barely had a chance to overtake me before Tink's voice appeared in my ears. I opened my eyes to find her barely a foot from my face, a grin on her lips that could have put the Cheshire Cat out of business.

"Because you two are certainly sweet enough for it to become a genuine concern."

"Five seconds," I sighed, but my dream-self (garbed in the same dress I'd been wearing earlier) was smiling too. "I've been asleep for five seconds, and you're already taking the piss out of me."

She continued to smirk wickedly, shaking her head.

"You've actually been asleep for five hours. I thought I'd let you get some dreamless rest in before starting to antagonise you properly."

"Thoughtful of you," I commended dryly, eyeing her gleeful expression in the mirror of my own face. "Go on. You might as well get it out of your system."

"At last, my moment of triumph." She cleared her throat like a politician about to make a speech."I. Told. You. So."

"Better?"

"Fantastic," she beamed, the self-satisfied look turning genuinely pleased. "But likely not as good as you after your eventful evening."

I frowned at her.

"Tink, I thought you'd said you give us some privacy."

"I did. But I could still feel your emotions pretty powerfully even at that metaphysical distance. Ever since Amon Hen, and even more since Helms Deep." A little flicker of that worry she'd shared crossed her expression, but it was only for a moment before her pleased grin came back. "Also you're almost literally glowing right now. I'm a bit surprised you're not floating a few inches off the ground."

She had me there.

Legolas and I had stayed up for a long time into the night, quietly talking, laughing, and simply being in each other's company. Eventually, I'd started to grow tired, my eyes struggling to remain open. He'd walked me back to the room I'd been given, and we'd said a tentative goodnight to each other. He'd pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my lips, then left me with a soft smile to get some rest.

I'd fallen asleep feeling light as a cloud inside five minutes.

So, instead of trying (and probably failing) to justify my perfectly valid giddiness to Tink, I decided to take a look around at what shape my dreamscape had taken this time.

We were on a beach.

A quiet, peaceful replica of the one I'd told Legolas about just a few hours ago. Instead of the sand being brick red like the one I knew on Earth though, everything was pale shades of white and grey, like we were standing in a misty storybook illustration.

A perfect imitation of the weather-smoothed rock Theo and I'd used to sit and eat our lunch lay not far off, and I immediately went and plopped myself down in the same spot I'd used to take with a soft sigh. Tink parked herself next to me in what would have been Theo's spot, and I noticed for the first time exactly how relaxed she appeared. She'd chosen to appear with her (or rather, my) long wavy hair completely down to her waist, and was garbed in a loose cream linen dress that was tied at the waist with a slender silk rope.

She looked like she was dressed for either bed and for some kind of meditation retreat.

"How are you feeling now, Tink?" I asked quietly, my curiosity piqued by her serene appearance.

She thought about it for a moment, looking out over the sea.

"I'm… ok… Not better exactly. That feeling is still there." She touched a hand to her chest over her heart. "But it's a bit… less now, somehow."

I smiled gently back at her.

"I'm glad."

We settled into a long, companionable silence, just listening to the breaking of the waves and looking out over the pale ocean my mind had conjured for us. Off in the distance, a few light grey seagulls skimmed their wings over the surface of the water.

"We'll probably have the chance to ask Gandalf all our questions soon," I said quietly, the world outside still preying on my mind despite the calm atmosphere all around. Tink's relaxed expression went a little serious again.

"He did promise us answers," she agreed.

I peered at her sideways.

"Should I?"

Her expression turned confused as she eyed me.

"Should you what?"

"Ask Gandalf all our questions. Dig for the answers we've been after. Put his toes to the fire, so to speak."

She frowned.

"Unsure as to why you're consulting me, boss."

"Isn't it obvious?"

She looked at me for a few breaths like she truly didn't understand. I twisted where I was perched on the rock to face her properly.

"Tink, we heard another Maia speak for less than two minutes, and it hurt you." She opened her mouth, but I held a hand up cutting her off before she could begin. "No, don't try and be brave about it, this enhanced empathy bond goes both ways. I want to know what happened to us, but this isn't just my decision anymore. Not really."

I reached over and placed my hand over hers where it rested on her knee. It was like holding sunlight made solid.

"It's my body, but what happens to me affects you too," I said gently, offering her a gentle, honest little smile. "That matters to me."

She opened her mouth, closed it, and sighed.

"You… make a fair point."

"So...?"

Her frown eased as she closed her eyes, and she silently considered my question.

"I think…" she said slowly. "That you should trust your own judgement."

Now it was my turn to frown.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm… not sure I fully trust my own judgement right now. You're not wrong about what happened at Isengard… messing with me…" Something about the look in her eyes came close to shame. Like she was embarrassed by exactly how much Saruman's words had got to her, and what she'd done as a result."But mad as you are sometimes, and as much as I worry what we might find at the end of all this… I do trust you."

I stared at her, expecting at least some degree of snark and finding myself blindsided by the complete lack of it.

"You trust me, even with this?" I asked.

She gave me as serious a look as I'd ever seen from her, gold eyes hard.

"Especially with this," she said simply.

I wasn't sure what to say to that. I'd asked Tink for her thoughts because I genuinely did want answers — I just didn't want them at the cost of irreparably damaging either of us. To hear by her own words (and without a shred of sarcasm to boot) that she trusted my judgement on it…

That she trusted me not to push for answers that might hurt her was… moving.

But I didn't have the words to articulate all that, so I just gave her hand still in mine a tight squeeze.

"Thanks, Tink," I whispered, smiling wide.

She waved her free hand in a dismissive gesture, but she was smiling too, her overall aura going from contemplative to flippant in less than a heartbeat.

"Yes, yes, I'm a true martyr. Anyway, back to far more interesting topics." She twisted on her perch to face me, sitting cross-legged on the rock like we were teenagers at a sleepover. "So, tell me, did your Prince Charming turn back into a frog when you kissed him for the second time?"

I laughed harder than I probably should have. But it felt ridiculously good.

"You're going to be insufferable about this aren't you."

"Obviously," she grinned, propping her chin on her fist. "In all seriousness, tell me everything, right this minute."

I gave her a slightly accusing look, one eyebrow raised.

"Fine, maybe not everything. But can you at least tell me if you two are 'a thing' now?"

She made air quotes and, embarrassed as I was thinking about it, I was also too happy to begrudge her being a little excited for me. It felt almost like having Katie there quizzing me after a date, and the thought made my heart ache even as it lightened with affection for Tink.

"If you define 'a thing' as us confirming that I'm a terrible dancer, Legolas is a cheerful drunk, and us both being honest with each other about our…" I hesitated, my face warming even though I shouldn't technically be able to blush here, "… mutual interest."

Someone kill me.

Tink's face split into such a wide grin she was in danger of appearing a bit crazy. Well, crazier than usual.

"Mutual interest, hmm?" she simpered with glee. "Something of an understatement given your antics on the battlements."

I groaned, dragging a hand down my overheated face. "You're as bad as Merry and Pip."

She laughed happily, the teasing grin mellowing out to fondness as she looked at me.

"So, what do you think comes next for you two kids?" She gave me a little nudge with her knee. I swatted her affectionately before leaning back on my hands.

"Honestly, I don't know," I answered, staring thoughtfully out into the ghostly landscape of my dream. "I have no idea what the next few months are going to look like for any of us, let alone anything further. We talked about it, and he insisted he wants to continue exploring whatever this is between us. I want to as well. But…"

I trailed off, and when I didn't pick up again, Tink leaned forward to catch my gaze.

"But?" She prompted.

I felt my face fall just a little, my gaze dropping to my lap.

"But I'm scared of getting attached to the idea of a future when there might not be one," I said softly. "He said he'd support whatever choice I make in the end when it comes to returning home, assuming I even have a choice. And he said he was at peace with his decision…"

"But you're afraid of hurting him with whatever might come next," she finished for me, hitting the nail on the head. I probably should have been more worried about how well she knew me by now, but I couldn't bring myself to feel anything other than comforted. Seen.

I nodded wordlessly.

She shuffled forward on the rock, reached over and took my hand in hers, just like I'd done earlier.

"All that's for the future. Quite literally a tomorrow problem." She leaned down, forcing me to meet her gold eyes which were filled with empathy. "What about right now?"

I let myself think about it. The new uncharted territory of physical affection between Legolas and me aside, I thought about how good it had felt simply being there together — talking, laughing, and comforting each other as we'd shared more pieces of ourselves. It had felt much like it had done when we'd first become tentative allies back in Moria, then friends in Lothlórien, then something more in Edoras; but all magnified to something wonderful and a little overwhelming.

"Right now?" I smiled shyly. "I'm… just happy."

Tink was beaming when I looked back up at her again, her left cheek dimpled and gold eyes twinkling.

"Good," she said so softly, and I was struck by the genuine depth of the feeling in her voice. When I gave her a questioning expression, she shrugged lightly. "I think after all you've been through, you deserve the chance to make each other happy, for however long it's meant to last."

My mouth opened to respond but couldn't find the words, so I closed it, a slightly misty-eyed smile on my lips. Tink bumped my shoulder lightly with hers, gave me a wink, and got up from her perch to go — presumably to let me get some more real rest.

She stopped for only a moment on her way, peeking over her shoulder and adding casually: "But just so we're absolutely clear. If he breaks your heart, I'm honour-bound as your friend to break his legs."

"Out. Now." I ordered, but my cheeks ached with a wide smile even as my face heated again.

She laughed lightly, still beaming, and vanished like mist off the sea back into the depths of my mind, Cheshire cat style.

I woke a few hours before dawn, mercifully sans a hangover and feeling far better than I should have given the mixing of drinks the night before.

I'd gone to sleep in the linen shift Eowyn had given me the previous day. It had been comfortable enough with all the hearths and cooking fires roaring, but there was a chill to the early morning air now. One that not even the furs draped over the bed were completely keeping at bay. I allowed myself to indulge in just a little bit of dozing under the covers before eventually getting up and immediately wrapping my freshly cleaned Lothlórien cloak around my shoulders like a blanket. I padded out into the halls on bare feet, initially heading for the kitchens to see if Ilda was awake (probably, but I hoped she was taking some well-earned rest) but deciding instead to go out and watch the sunrise from the front of the hall for a while.

I'd fully expected to find the stone veranda at the front of the hall empty, even of guards given how much they'd all been drinking the night before.

What I found was Boromir.

He was sat on the edge of the stone landing with his legs hanging over the edge, and a small bundle held close against his chest. Little wisps of cobweb-fine red hair were visible against the baby blankets. He was watching the lightening sky calmly, gently swaying from side to side where he sat, a hand patting softly against the little figure's back as she dozed.

As I drew closer I saw a half-asleep Nesta reach up and seized a handful of his beard with her pudgy little fingers. At barely a few days old wasn't able to manage a recognisable smile, but I imagined she would have if she could. Instead, she made a soft burbling sound in her sleep which made Boromir's serene face break into the first openly joyous smile I'd seen on him in months.

It was sort of adorable.

The second he saw me there watching from a few steps away he tried to mask it, but couldn't quite get rid of the smile stuck to his face. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and gently prised Nesta's little fingers from his facial hair.

"She's strong for such a little one," he said quietly enough to not disturb the sleeping baby and offered me a teasing smile. "Much like someone else I know."

"I'll choose to take that as a compliment," I whispered back, stepping over and perching next to him. "Looks like you have an admirer. How did you end up on babysitting duty?"

Nesta squirmed a little in her sleep, and Boromir carefully adjusted his arms around her so she was comfortable again.

"I was already awake and ran into Lady Sarra. We spoke and I offered to watch little Nesta for a few hours, while her mother takes some much-needed sleep." I must have looked surprised, or impressed, or both, because he coloured and shrugged. "I have some experience minding young ones, from when Faramir was small and our mother was sickly."

"More than just some experience I'd say," I beamed, giving him a little nudge but being careful not to disturb the baby. "How was Sarra when you spoke to her?"

"She seemed well," he told me with a subdued little smile. "Happy, but exhausted."

I wasn't surprised to hear it, she'd been glowing with maternal joy when I'd spoken to her the evening before. But she'd also come close to nodding off a few times when I'd been holding Nesta. I suspected she was relieved to have a break — however short — from breastfeeding to get some proper rest.

Thinking about it too, I also got the impression from the gentle tone of Boromir's voice that their conversation hadn't been brief, or unwelcome to either party…

I didn't comment on it though. I just smiled softly, reaching over and stroking some of Nesta's wispy red-blonde hair back from her round little face. She made a soft sleepy sound without opening her eyes, her tiny hands closing into fists in Boromir's tunic. My heart melted a bit.

Then a soft, almost inaudible noise from the other end of the entranceway made us both look up.

Gandalf had appeared soundlessly at the other end of the stone veranda, smoke curling from his pipe, gaze turned to the east where the sky was beginning to lighten. He didn't cast so much as a glance at either of us, but he managed to give the unmistakable impression that he was waiting for one of us all the same.

And only one of us had weeks worth of unanswered questions stored up in their head.

"I should return this little one to her mother before she gets hungry again," Boromir whispered to me, picking up the unspoken cues immediately. "I will leave you both to speak."

I nodded uneasily, helping him up so he didn't jostle the sleeping baby too much.

"Can you tell Sarra I'll be along in a bit?" I asked softly. "I can take Nesta for a while so she can get some more sleep."

He nodded. "I shall. Good luck."

I watched him disappear back inside the hall, heading for Gamling's quarters. Then I took a breath and turned towards the wizard staring out at the view of the snow-capped mountains in the distance.

'Last chance, Tink,' I said inside my head. 'You sure about this?'

'I am,' she answered softly but firmly. 'Ask what you will. I trust you.'

Her presence didn't vanish from my awareness, but it receded like she was listening from a distance rather than right beside me. I nodded, a strange feeling of trepidation coming over me as I padded across the cold stones, tugging my Lothlórien cloak a little closer around my suddenly chilly shoulders.

Time for a long overdue talk…

"I had heard you helped bring a new life into the world during the siege of Helms Deep," Gandalf said quietly when I came to a stop beside him. "Congratulations, to you and to her."

I smiled minutely.

"It was a trial by fire if ever there was one. Master Elrond would approve."

Gandalf's eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile. "Indeed he would."

When that was all he said I realised with a blink of surprise that he was giving me the chance to ask a question unrestricted.

But for some reason, instead of the myriad that I already had in my head, something else came out:

"Sarra, the woman who gave birth… she looks just like my best friend from home," I told him quietly, not looking away from the view as those words said aloud sent a strange feeling through my insides — nerves mixed with exhausted longing.

Gandalf only paused puffing on his pipe for a second, but it was enough to convey genuine surprise.

"Truly?" he said quietly. "That is… intriguing."

"I have a thought about it."

"One you care to share with a curious old man?"

I chewed my lip in consideration. I'd been completely truthful when I told Legolas I didn't know why Sarra and Katie looked identical, but I had begun to form a theory in the rare moments I'd had to stew over the puzzle.

"Mortal Men's souls aren't tied to this world," I said, drawing from both my long talks with Legolas in Lothlórien, and two years of reading everything I could get my hands on in the Rivendell library. "That's the Gift of the Secondborn, yes? No one knows where mortal souls go when they pass away. Not even the Ainur."

"That is true," Gandalf confirmed, listening to me with interest.

"What if they live again? Just elsewhere. What if they're born into mirrored forms in other worlds, but at different times," I went on, thinking back to that time (has it really only been a couple of months ago?) Lady Galadriel had showed me the reflection of myself in Lothlorien — human, and comatose in a hospital. "When I saw myself unconscious in Galadriel's mirror, time hadn't moved in the same way as here. It had been over two years in Arda, but only a few months on Earth. What if our worlds are detached by both time and space, and when a mortal soul 'moves on' they start again in another time and place."

It would mean when Sarra eventually passed at the end of her mortal life here, she might start a new life again elsewhere. Maybe even as a newborn girl called Katie in a new world called Earth, never knowing she had once lived an entirely separate life before then…

The theory didn't change anything about my situation, but the idea that mine and my best friend's souls had encountered each other across completely different times and worlds… was comforting.

Gandalf took a long draw from his pipe, and exhaled slowly, the smoke turning idly to the shape of a dozen moths that fluttered away on the air.

"It is a fascinating theory. And not outside the realms of possibility."

"It would explain why I have two near-identical bodies across two separate worlds. But only one soul to pilot them at any given time."

The only part that didn't make sense was that — here at least — I was an elf. Elven souls were tethered to this reality. Even when they died their spirits were drawn to the Halls of Mandos to rest until the time came for them to live again. My soul shouldn't have been able to go walkabout between realities like that.

"You've… given this a great deal of thought," Gandalf said after a considering pause.

I shrugged, pulling my cloak a little tighter across my upper arms. The cool morning air was starting to give me goosebumps.

"I've had a lot of time to think about it," I murmured, turning my gaze on him fully. "And not many forthcoming answers."

Gandalf seemed to go still even though he hadn't really been moving before. Then he sighed, extinguishing his pipe with a soft hiss.

"I did promise you more of those." He turned away from the view of the mountains and faced me properly. "Do you have one you wish to ask first?"

I chuckled humourlessly.

"Many," I admitted. Even so, I took a long moment to think carefully about what to start with. I settled on one that I knew had been bothering Tink and I the most — even if it hadn't been said aloud between us. "Tink was… unsettled by what happened with Saruman. She saw what happened to him after his body died… and she showed me what she witnessed firsthand…"

Tink herself didn't say a word, but as I spoke I could feel her there, listening intently from the depths of my mind, even as Gandalf patiently waited for the question in my monologue.

"That was Manwë, the Lord of the Valar who Saruman — or Curumo I suppose — was looking to right after he died, wasn't it."

I didn't make it a question.

Something not quite sorrowful but very close to it flickered in Gandalf's face. He nodded. "It was."

"He… was asking to come home to Aman, wasn't he."

Another weighty pause.

"Yes."

A shiver ran through me, and I wasn't sure if it came from me or Tink. I thought of that cold wind that had come from the West in icy reply to Saruman's plea, and the silence that followed was cold as a gravestone.

I recalled the fear and dread that had taken hold of Tink at the sight, and when she'd spoken of the Valar to me. And despite my own desperation for straightforward answers, for her sake, I chose not to ask anything further on that particular subject. I had to tread carefully, not just for myself now.

"Did he know?" I asked instead. "Saruman I mean. Was he telling the truth when he said those things about Tink's past? Did he really know what happened to make her this way?"

"Not in the way he implied," Gandalf answered, shaking his head a little. "Curumo was always among the cleverest of us, but he was not privy to everything he claimed. It is likely that he saw your joint situation, and made intuitive leaps. No, I do not believe he could have given either of you the true answers you search for."

"And what he said at the end? That… thing about ashen hair and broken hearts?"

"A foretelling." The way he said the word implied a depth of meaning I don't think I fully understood. "It is a gift bestowed by Eru Ilvatar to a rare few — Maia, Elves and Men. The ability to see glimmers of that which is to come. It is an even rarer few who are able to interpret their meaning with any kind of accuracy."

"Those like Galadriel you mean," I murmured, thinking aloud.

The old wizard smiled softly and ever so sadly, like a man recalling a close friend he hadn't seen in years.

"Yes, those like she."

At the mention of the Lady of the Golden Wood, I was once again reminded of what she had given me weeks ago before we'd departed. Without really thinking about it I reached around my neck and pulled the little vial of poison she'd given me from under my shift. It clinked against the acorn Legolas had gifted me as I held it up. Even in the cool air it still felt warmer between my fingers than it should have. Like it had been left in a sunbeam for too long.

"She gave me this you know, as a parting gift. In Lothlórien, after you fell," I said quietly, turning it so that the engraved lettering caught the watery morning light. "She told me when I'd remembered enough to understand what those words mean, I'd know what to do with it. It's the same poison I used to take my memories the first time."

"So Aragorn has explained," Gandalf replied. He leaned a little closer as I held the vial up, silently mouthing the words engraved on the stopper. "And interesting riddle indeed."

"Do you have any idea what it could mean?" I asked, then amended: "Anything you can tell me freely, of course."

He shook his head, crossing his arms and appearing honestly stumped.

"Sadly, I cannot hazard any guess as to what she foresaw, or why she would gift you such a puzzle as a result." He told me, gaze softening in something close to reassurance. "But what I know of the Lady of Lothlórien, is she would not bestow you with such a dangerous artefact if she did not believe it would be vital to you at some point."

I thought of Boromir's gifted knife that he'd used to save Haldir's life, and I thought of the dagger belts given to Merry and Pippin. The ones that had been dropped, but had allowed Aragorn to track them into Fangorn forest. There'd been no clear answers for how each of those items would have helped us until after they already had — and there were certainly no clear answers for mine yet.

So I suppose I'd just have to keep waiting, thinking, and searching until I did.

I sighed, tucking the vial on its chain back under my shift again, the crystal warm against my sternum.

"It was worth a try I suppose," I muttered, more to myself than the wizard at my side. I'd been content to stand in silence watching the pale indigo sky until I'd settled on another question. But I didn't get the chance before Gandalf's voice called me back to reality.

"Eleanor," he said, his voice suddenly so serious it made me turn to peer at him.

"Hmm?"

His thick grey brows were pinched in a concerned frown, and he was observing me with a mix of both worry and reluctance.

"I promised I would answer as many of your questions as I may without harming either or your passenger. But there is something else I must tell you of, now that you and Ra—" he cut himself off. "You and Tink have both… begun to display certain symptoms."

The passenger in question was lurking close to the surface of my consciousness, both our feelings of trepidation mixing together like a bad meal in my gut.

"Certain symptoms?" I asked, a little afraid of what he was going to say next.

He gave me a look like a doctor delivering uncomfortable but critical news.

"I had not wished to prompt it happening by warning you unduly, but when you revealed that you frequently spoke together back in Fangorn… that you'd gifted her a name..."

He was clearly having a tricky time choosing the best words, and honestly, coming from him, that was what was spooking me the most.

'Spit it out, Olorin,' Tink hissed silently inside my head.

"Just tell me Gandalf," I insisted, turning to him fully. "Please."

His gaze softened with almost pity.

"I fear that by becoming closer through empathy and struggle, you both have opened a mutual bond through which you have begun to unconsciously influence each other."

I blinked at him. From his tone, I'd really been expecting something far more dramatic. I could even sense Tink's confusion alongside mine.

"I don't understand. How is that bad?" I asked.

Gandalf's serious expression didn't shift. "It is concerning because it means you are both becoming — in the spiritual sense — less and less distinct from each other the more you interact. The more you feel each other emotions, the more you share each other's senses, your souls are becoming increasingly intertwined."

I felt my own eyebrows drawing together as I tried to understand his worry.

"And that's a danger because?"

"It will become a danger to you both," he explained with grave emphasis, "should you ever try to be separate from each other."

That got my attention, and not in a good way.

"Separate?" My voice came out a bit airy.

It was obviously something I'd thought about since finding out Tink was a Maia. If I was ever to find a way home again, there was no way she'd be able to go with me. We'd have to split apart at some point. But the reality of what that might mean for us, or the logistics of how it could work hadn't been pressing at the time. Now though…

'Oh… stars.'

I felt my face pale even as Tink's horrified realisation magnified my own.

"You mean we're becoming…" I searched for a description, and didn't like anything I found, "spiritually conjoined?"

Gandalf shook his head — thank God.

I was equipped to handle many things now, but spiritual body horror wasn't one of them.

"A closer analogy would be entangled," he corrected. "Each time you interact with each other in a way that facilitates empathy — as you have done over these past months — your spirits, your wills overlap. And it is starting to have notable external effects."

More recollections of being cornered in that ally, then Helms Deep came back to me. This time I recalled the rage I'd felt that had magnified not only my emotions but also my strength. I also recalled the strange feeling I'd experienced as we'd stormed out of the hall at Helms Deep, the alien feeling of anticipation for a fight that had seemed to bleed out from me into the soldiers nearby…

"How do you know this?" I whispered, suddenly feeling the cold all the way down to my bones.

Gandalf looked uncomfortable, momentarily haunted by an intrusive memory all his own. "I have seen it happen before…a very long time ago."

I tried to wrap my mind around everything he was telling me. It made sense to an extent, but I was having trouble accepting what had triggered it all in the first place:

"Are you really saying that because Tink and I started working together we've literally started sharing willpower? That all that we're both feeling from each other now… is because we became friends?"

Instead of confirming or denying, Gandalf simply asked: "Have you not noticed any changes in yourself, or changes within her since you began seeing each other as companions?"

Again, I unwillingly thought back to how I'd been able to feel Tink's emotions (and she mine) far more strongly ever since Amon Hen, and then Helms Deep. Everything from her anger, grief and fear, to the bliss of being in a hot bath after a long ride.

I swallowed.

"I have. We have," I whispered, then shaking my head in something close to denial. "But that's what all friendships do. They change you. It doesn't matter where they come from or what shape they take."

"That is true," he conceded sadly. "But in your case, it comes with dangerous consequences. You both share a body. A body that was not made to contain a Maia's strength. Cruel as the reality may be, it means that if you continue as you are, and you try and eventually separate from each other, you may find that your souls have become so entwined that you damage each other irreparably in the attempt."

I felt a sudden surge of frustration at the sheer unfairness of it all, and as if to illustrate Gandalf's point, I could no longer tell if it was fully mine or Tink's anymore.

"Then what can we do?" I demanded more harshly than intended. A terrifying thought suddenly occurred to me: "Is there even anything we can do?"

Again — thank God — he nodded.

"There is. You might not be able to physically distance yourselves. But you can (and must) find a way to mentally separate yourselves. Keep yourselves distinct from each other, spiritually if not bodily."

I eyed him, and I could feel Tink doing the same from behind my eyes.

"How can we even do that? We can't just undo the bond that come from a friendship, even if we wanted to. And we definitely can't just ignore each other and hope that will be enough."

"No you cannot," he agreed gravely. "And in any case, that will not be practical in the days to come. The overlapping occurs when you share feelings and thoughts. When you share wills, essentially. What I suggest, is you both find ways to pit your wills against each other."

'Is he… saying what I think he is?' Tink asked, and I could all but hear her baffled frown.

I was frowning too, trying to understand exactly what action he was suggesting.

"You want us to psychically fight each other?"

He inclined his head and made a 'not quite' sort of sound.

"I would have referred to it as mental sparring, or perhaps even an unconscious chess match. But essentially yes. The purpose would not be to antagonise each other, but to pull back from each other enough to keep the overlap from taking over."

I pictured that in my head for a moment, the weight of both Tink and my anxiety lifting with the image.

"That… sounds not so bad actually."

Gandalf smiled softly.

"It will take some practice, and it will not be a permanent solution to your conundrum," he warned with the gentle tones of an older sibling, "but I can assist you both in learning how."

I stared up at him and felt a strangely familiar flicker of affection coming clearly from Tink, and directed at the old wizard. I recognised it as the same kind I'd felt any time Theo had comforted me, or offered to help me — even when it was just for something small.

But despite the warm sensation radiating from her, I couldn't help but recall how I'd told Tink earlier that it stood to reason that she and Saruman must have known each other in Aman, even in passing. Now I had to wonder… had she known Gandalf too? Before he had become one of the Istari?

And if that was the case…

"Gandalf…" I said, very quietly, regretting how what I was about to say was likely to spoil that feeling warming my heart.

He was looking at me with careful expectancy as if he knew what was coming.

"Yes?"

I took a breath and prepared to ask a question I'd never said aloud, directly, at point-blank range.

"Do you know what happened to us? To Tink and me?"

Something in the old man's face changed. It wasn't physical, or anything I could see with my eyes. But it was as if a shadow passed over him with the memory of something long buried - a mix of horror, grief and sadness deepening all the lines of his face.

"…I do."

I swallowed.

"And if you were to tell me the whole truth… all of it, right now… would it harm us?"

He looked me directly in the eyes, and I felt the unconscious weight of all that he truly was beneath the old-man facade. And all the wondrous and terrible knowledge that came with it.

"It would," he whispered with sadness in his eyes. "Both of you."

I breathed deep and closed my own eyes, fighting every burning impulse in me to cry that I didn't care and to tell me anyway.

But I knew I couldn't.

My eyes began to sting behind my lids and my throat began to tighten with the effort. It felt like deliberately letting go of a lifeline you'd been grasping for, and just letting yourself fall into the unknown…

"Ok…" My voice came out as a weak little croak. I cleared my throat and pulled my shoulders back. "Ok."

I felt the warmth of a hand appear on my shoulder through my cloak.

"I am sorry, Eleanor," Gandalf spoke so softly it hurt my heart. "I might not be in a position to know your particular pain, but I know enough to wish there was more I might do to ease it."

The raw sympathy in his voice made it so much harder to hold back tears. I'm not sure how, but I managed not to cry this time. It took a few moments of just standing there letting all the feelings of frustration and desperation just wash over me. Eventually, I was able to open my eyes again and look up at the wizard beside me.

"I know… Thank you," I whispered. "For that, and everything up until now."

His smile was sad, but not pitying this time.

"You are most welcome."

He released my shoulder with a gentle squeeze. I reached up and swiped what remained of the dampness from my eyes and took a deep breath of the cool morning air. The sun was so close to breaking over the mountains that I could see the beams through the mist between the peaks.

"This overlapping you spoke about…" I found myself saying, tinged with something like the ghost of my old joking voice, "Is it likely to damage either of us in the next few hours?"

I felt Gandalf eyed me in bemusement.

"Unlikely."

"Good." I sighed, forcing myself to relax, taking in the sight of a dawn I'd been unsure I'd ever see just a few days ago. "Then we can worry about it all later. For now, I'd just like to enjoy being alive, please."

I could hear the smile in his voice even though I wasn't looking at him.

"A very fair request."

It hurt to not immediately go after the answers I knew Tink and I both still longed for. But it also was a relief to not feel the need to hunt them down. If Gandalf, Galadriel and Elrond were all to be believed — and I did — they would come to us…

One way or another.

We could demand the answers we were due later if it ever came to that. But for now, all I wanted was to savour the peace and the quiet…

That was the moment when Pippin started screaming.

Gandalf might have physically been an elderly human man, but he reacted far faster than I did.

Pippin's piercing cry of pain had barely cut the air before he'd spun on the spot and sprinted for the hall. I was close on his heels, my bare feet barely hitting the cold stone floor as I raced after him on pure instinct.

A second later I could hear Merry shouting frantically for help, terror straining his voice.

The two hobbits had settled down to sleep in the same large shared room as the other male members of the Fellowship, but the others must have been awake as well because I almost ran straight into Aragorn as I rounded a corner after Gandalf. He caught me by the shoulders before I could fall, but before either of us could speak, Pippin gave another strangled scream of agony. Gandalf shoved the door to the sleeping quarters open to reveal Pippin curled like a trapped rabbit on the floor.

His hands locked on the palantir Gandalf had taken from Isengard, and he was staring into it like he couldn't look away. His mouth was open in a howling scream that was likely to damage his vocal cords.

Merry was beside him, sobbing for help as he tried and failed to yank Pippin's hands off the seeing stone…

The seeing-stone was glowing with a furious blast furnace light that seemed to consume all other light around it.

"Help him! Help him, please!" Merry was near tears with panic.

I could only assume the sight of Pippin in abject agony had momentarily paralysed Gandalf because it was Aragorn and I who dashed into the room first. Aragorn went for Pippin and seized him around the wrists, trying to force his hands from the orb. My cloak slid from around me as I reached out and grabbed Merry by the shoulders, pulling him back away from the wildly convulsing Pippin.

Whatever was holding the hobbit's small hands to the palantir, not even Aragorn was strong enough to fight it. Pippin howled like a dying animal as Aragorn tried again to pry his fingers from the stone, and I had to brace an arm around the desperately struggling Merry to keep him from rushing to his friend's side.

Somewhere in the room Legolas and Gimli had appeared and were trying to help, but I wasn't paying any attention.

"Gandalf!" I shouted desperately as Pippin screamed again.

But Gandalf — who had already started moving — didn't get the chance to act.

At that moment Aragorn changed tactics, taking his hands from Pippin's wrist, and instead placing them directly on the palantir as if to take it from him.

The light-consuming fire within flared with what I could only describe as a furious hatred. Aragorn's face contorted with a sudden, pained snarl, snapping his eyes shut against the blaze and refusing to look.

But it worked.

Pippin's grip on the orb slacked, his eyes rolled back and he fell sideways into Gandalf's waiting arms. At the same time, Aragorn stumbled backwards, teeth bared as he tried to release the seeing stone, eyes still clenched shut.

"Gimli!" Legolas' voice cut through the chaos as he grabbed Aragorn from behind in a bearhug around the chest, trapping his arms in place.

And Gimli, wielding his ever-reliable axe, hefted the pommel and smashed it like a giant's hammer against the palantir.

It didn't shatter (I wasn't sure if anything could have broken it) but the force of the blow was more than enough to cut whatever connection was forcing Aragorn's death grip on it.

The glowing orb tumbled from his fingers, hitting the stone floor with a loud crash and rolling across the rugs past Merry and me…

'Eleanor!' Tink's voice lanced through my mind in sudden warning…

Just as I felt the unexpectedly hot stone brushed the heel of my bare foot.

The reaction was instant and terrifying.

My vision fractured like breaking glass, then went black as if all the light in the world had suddenly been doused. A fiery, searing pain pierced my skull and chest, like someone had plunged a syringe into my heart and injected boiling metal straight into my blood.

I don't remember if I screamed.

I only remember feeling all the air rush out of my lungs just before I hit the floor.

The dreamscape that crashed in around me immediately felt wrong.

It didn't look real.

It looked and felt like the inside of broken crystal somehow — the air strangely jagged all around, streaked with smoky fractures like breaks in reality.

I was sprawled on my hands and knees on polished translucent stone as if I'd just caught myself on a hard floor in a fall. My heart was still hammering with the shock and pain of whatever had just happened to my body outside, and I gasped on instinct as the feeling didn't diminish.

I looked up on instinct, hunting around for something to help me understand what had just happened to me.

A figure stood not far away through the shifting fractures in the air, and for a heartbeat, I assumed it was Tink.

I automatically opened my mouth to call to her…

But the words died on my tongue as I realised the figure was male. An unfamiliar male elf. Tall and regal, with ash blond hair…

Only he wasn't really an elf at all.

It was just the shape he'd chosen to wear.

I knew it the moment he turned towards me and I saw his face — too fair for the eyes that lived in them. Those eyes were the blazing topaz of an open furnace, wreathed in living flames that seemed to consume all the light around them rather than emitting any…

And the pupils were slitted like a cat's.

Every fibre of my being recoiled — body and soul — perfect terror gripping me by the heart as I understood all the way to my bones exactly who was standing right there…

Inside my own mind.

With absolutely nothing between me and him.

The creator of the One Ring smiled at me. And his expression was mildly curious, amused, and utterly predatory.

"So you live after all, agath phazâth*."

Translations:

* "dead princess" — Adûnaic (speculative translation)

A/N: A/N: A little look under the hood with this chapter: I had to go back and make a list of all the questions Eleanor has already asked (and there have been a lot) all the ones she still wants answers to. I feel a little like the editing for this was a bit rushed, since I'm trying to get the last few chapters of CM done before mid Feb. So with that in mind, this may get another update/polish in the next few weeks after Chapter 26 is out.

But in the meantime, full steam ahead. :) I hope you all enjoyed the penultimate chapter of CM. Just one more to go, and there's one very big reveal coming with it.

Until then.

Much love,

Rella x