The time Aiedale spent in Imladris was both unendingly boring and rather soothing to her frazzled nerves – if that was possible to be both bored and feel soothed to. However, she was bored and sometimes it made her want to scream. She lived for the night. She lived for the wild dance club parties where she hunted demons and the knowledge that she might not see the dawn. She missed the adrenalin rushes and the chance to truly test her skills in a life and death situation. In Imladris she was lucky not to get bored sparring and it irked her that she had to spend a large amount of time evading pointed questions from a certain man of Gondor.

No - two months had been far too long for her liking.

Of course there was a purpose to it. Patrols of elves had gone out searching for the Nazgul and ensuring – as much was possible – that the route chosen by Elrond and Gandalf to Mordor was free of the nastier creatures that had slunk out of the shadows since Sauron's return. Aiedale had wanted to go on these patrols, but was never invited for reasons she could only guess at - the reasons she did come up with were so insulting she did not like to think about them.

But she needed to do something.

She was desperate to alleviate her boredom and the bad mood that came with it, so, feeling a little like a thief in the night, she left on her own scouting missions. She told no one of these 'excursions' and, if those close to her noticed that she seemed to spend less time brooding, they put it down to something else. It was not really a hunt of any kind or a planned thing; she just took her weapons, marked herself with her stele and went.

It was, as she ran silent as a shadow through the darkened woods and into the wilds of the North, that Aiedale found the grief lessening. She could not outrun it forever, but she could darn well try. It was all left behind: the quest, the homesickness, the promises and the confusing people who surrounded her.

But, the second she slowed down, it would all come crashing back in like lead weights on her shoulders. It would make her gasp for air and force herself to start running again if only to escape it once more. Run, she would whisper to herself, run and maybe the world will be alright when you stop again. Friendship offered by hobbits and the ranger was only good for so much. It could not prevent her from boiling over with suppressed energy which, added to her emotions, only made things worse.

On a few of these runs through the pitch black night, she would encounter orcs or the occasional warg and it was then that she gave full rein to her Shadowhunter training. Reveling in the feeling of moving so fast and with such agility that - had any of her sparring partners seen her - they would have been shocked. As the sky grew lighter with approaching dawn she would turn her steps back towards Imladris, evading patrols of elves with ease and slip through her window just as the first rays of the sun stained the sky red. She would be down to breakfast looking as if she had not been out for the entire night and her smile widening whenever she was asked how she had slept.

At last, after what seemed an age of this routine, it was time for them to depart. Routes had been scouted, bags packed and there was no more reason to delay.

The fellowship had been outfitted with clothes, whatever weapons they desired and other supplies that would, if not all the way to Mordor, last them until they came to someplace they could replenish them. Bill the pony who, according to Sam, would pine if he was left behind would come with them and help carry the load. The once sad, dejected creature seemed to have regained some youth in Imladris and his coat, while thick and hairy for winter, had a new shine to it. His eyes, once dull, now glinted and his ears were perked as he stood beside the hobbit.

The morning of departure dawned bright, a winter sun casting its light down on the frosted courtyard of Imladris. No snow fell in the hidden valley nor did the temperatures sink too low, but this morning was chilly. The sky was a pale blue and the sun's rays held little warmth. To Aiedale it was invigorating, the chill air making her feel alive and ready to leave. If it had been her in charge of this expedition, they would have left well before dawn and already be well on their way. No matter if Sam was worried about not having any rope.

As it was, after a final sendoff dinner held in the Hall of Fire and the final mad rush of packing, they were still here. Aiedale had to content herself with tapping her foot against the stone and trying not to scowl. She was working on her patience, she knew that it was unreasonable to expect Shadowhunter standards from those who did not know the kind of level Aiedale held herself to, but so far she had been only partially successful.

Trying to distract herself, Aiedale glanced around. She was back in her familiar gear with a thick elvish cloak thrown about her shoulders and all her weapons were where they should be. The cloak was thick and warm, even better was its deep hood that, when pulled on, not only hid her distinctive auburn air but covered her face in shadow. Boromir, his shield across his back and his horn by his side, was standing close to the pony. Frodo was there to and so was Merry and Pippen. Aragorn had yet to appear and Gandalf was just stepping away from where he had been speaking with Lord Elrond. Elves milled around, ensuring that all was ready for their departure and, to Aiedale's annoyance; many of them were singing some tune in Sindarin. At another time she might have thought it hauntingly beautiful, but now she just found it to be irritating background noise.

A stone courtyward where a silent group of black-clothed warriors waited for final instructions from the tall figure of the Silent Brother who oversaw this particular mission…

Knowing that she had to – if only to express gratitude for his hospitality – Aiedale navigated around the elves and towards Lord Elrond. She was unused to goodbyes, they were a foreign language to her and so, remembering something a warlock had once told her, she stopped in front of Elrond and inclined here head slightly before him. Reading of his role in the past of this world had made her respect the lord that stood before her and his deeds - she could justify this much courtesy at least.

"Mizpah," she said with a faint smile as she met the silver eyes of Elrond. Glorfindel stood to his left, his golden hair catching the sunlight and glinting like polished gold. The identical twins, Elladan and Elrohir, stood quietly to their father's right and their sister was saying her own farewells to Legolas a little ways away.

"Excuse me?" said Elrond with a raised eyebrow. His robes fell in elegant folds around him, but there was an air of a warrior watching an army leave without him.

"A sort of goodbye without saying goodbye," said Aiedale. "Thank you for housing me and all your kindness." The words were formal, but right and she was glad to say them. Aiedale didn't like debts and she did not want to leave unfinished business in this place – she hoped never to return.

"You are welcome," said the elf Lord and his eyes, deep and knowing, lingered on her face with open curiosity. He wondered, as he had many times since her arrival, what her purpose was.

With a last nod to the elves standing behind him, Aiedale turned and made her way towards the hobbits. She studiously ignored Boromir, and waited as patiently as she could for the fellowship to fully gather so they could leave. Beyond the borders of Imladris it was winter and Aiedale already felt that they had lingered far too long. Frodo seemed to feel this to, his face was pinched with worry and he stayed very close to his friends as if drawing comfort from their familiar presence. He must have already said farewell to his Uncle for the elderly hobbit was nowhere in sight and she could not help but wonder how Bilbo felt about his nephew doing this task.

Aragorn appeared then, and Aiedale could not help but notice the way he refused to look at Arwen even as the stunning elf-maiden gazed at him with something close to desperation. Aiedale knew quite a bit about romance, enough boy friends had taught her some things, but she did not know anything of love so deep it would stand in front of such irreconcilable differences as the love between Estel and Arwen. However, something had happened between the two and Aiedale wondered at it even as she knew it was not her place to comment on it.

Moving over to where the man was fiddling with a knot already expertly tied by elven fingers, Aiedale asked in a low voice. "You should say something to her."

"All has been said," was the quick reply, but the man's eyes strayed toward his beloved before flicking back down to the knot. "She will leave with her people." The sword of Elendil, forged anew by elvish smiths, hung by his side and, with the dawn light on his face, he looked more kingly than ever before. Or just more stupid, thought Aiedale.

"Oh please," said Aiedale with enough annoyance to make Aragorn glance up at her in surprise. Her voice, while never rising, was practically burning with her impatience, "go up and talk to her. She loves you. You love her. Don't be an absolute idiot."

"But…" said Aragorn as he tried to explain himself. There was so much to explain and how could he ask Arwen to give up her immortality and her family for him?

He was silenced by a glare so angry and impatient that he didn't dare say anything. 'Go," she said coldly, "or I will drag you over there myself."

Aragorn had no doubt she would and, as much as he had tried to deny the feelings, he could not. So, feeling terribly conflicted, he did go and say the farewell he had wanted to say, but would have denied himself and Arwen had it not been for the Shadowhunter. The words they whispered to each other on that frozen winter morning would stay with him and give him hope, a little comfort, on the long journey before him.

Aiedale watched the couple with a satisfied smirk on her face. To her – used to watching the lives of people around her fizzle out like sparklers – there was no point leaving things unsaid when it was clear they were felt by those involved.

Gandalf moved then and the company gathered, all preparations completed and even goodbyes not meant to be said had been given. A wind from the west had risen and it made the dry winter branches rustle with their remaining leaves. It seemed, to Aiedale, to be murmuring: go! Go and make haste!

Boromir, his sword at his side, raised his horn then and said, "Loud and clear it sounds in the valleys of the hills. Let all foes of Gondor flee when they hear its call!" Putting it to his lips he blew a blast, and the echoes leapt from rock to rock, and all that heard it found themselves suddenly ready for something – some action though they knew not what it was.

"Slow should you be to wind that horn again, Boromir," said Elrond sternly.

Maybe, thought Aiedale sourly, she should tell him the story of the Shadowhunter who had blown a horn at the start of a mission and told ever single blasted demon within ten miles where he was.

"This is my last word," said Elrond and all present gazed at the elf Lord who stood like a remnant of another age when horn's like Boromir's had been heard calling out against the darkness of Sauron. "You go as free companions to assist the Ring-bearer on his quest. No oath or bound is laid on you to go further than you will."

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," said Gimli. The dwarf stood, as immovable as stone, with his giant axe slung across his back and his beard braided in the style of his people. He looked like some bit of mountain stone carved roughly by some artisan and then plunked down in the middle of Imladris, so out of place among the graceful elves.

"Look not too far ahead," said Elrond and his words were gentle, but clear in the crisp air. "But hold to hope and may the blessings of all Free Folk go with you."

With that they turned away. The time had come to set out and so they did as the winter sun warmed their backs a little. Gandalf walked in front and Frodo was beside him. Farewells were called out from behind them from those who remained and one fair elvish voice, perhaps it was Arwen's, sang out a fair melody that stayed with them until they crossed the bridge and notes were too faint for even Shadowhunter ears.

Falling into step beside Legolas at the back of the small party, she did not bother with looking back at the glowing elf haven. The road stretched out before them – inviting and dangerous at the same time. Aiedale felt a wide smile growing across her face for that was just the way she liked her life. She liked it to have a clear purpose and she liked danger for it added spice to the game she had been trained to play. This was just another game. One more move she had to make and execute perfectly on the chess board of the world.

She would win.

Checkmate.

They stopped once for lunch and then again when the sun was resting at the rim of the horizon and it was clear that the hobbits had reached their limit. Camp was made in a small hollow and Sam, who was an excellent cook no matter the circumstance, began to cook a meal over a small fire. It was too dangerous in Aragorn's opinion, but Gandalf had felt that, at least so close to Rivendell, they would be able to get away with the light and smoke. Later on, warned the wizard, they would have to eat their food cold rather than risk unwanted attention.

The country they had been moving through was rough and barren than the land on the other side of the range of mountains. Like the country she had traveled to on her way to Imladris, Aiedale found it oddly beautiful and its wildness made her feel like a hawk spreading its wings as it caught an updraft and soared high above. There was so much space! The world felt wide, so impossibly wide, and she was just a little dot on its surface. A little bit of shadow flitting across the land, running on the grassy turf and gone in a blink of an eye. No one, but her and the fellowship for miles and miles…

It was in their small little hollow, as the fellowship settled down around the fire, that Gimli voiced a question. The dwarf had little to do with the slender dark clothed girl beyond a few words shared after the Council and he was curious of her. He had seen her spar a few times with elves, watched her tease the hobbits, dance with raven haired sons of Elrond and walking alone along the corridors of the elf haven, but he had never directly spoken to her.

"Lassie," said the dwarf and Aiedale raised her head to gaze at the dwarf across the fire. "What is that knife you had out made out of?"

Aiedale had been rather startled by the question and even more that it had come from the dwarf. "Not out of any material you would be familiar with," she said and the dwarf nodded thoughtfully. He was a smith and the memory of the strange blade had stuck in his mind. He had never seen a metal that color or a blade of that shape.

"That a woman wields a weapon…" murmured Boromir under his breath. He obviously did not mean for it to be heard or commented on, but he underestimated Aiedale's hearing and level of annoyance with him.

"Is perfectly ordinary," said Aiedale pointedly. She never raised her eyes to look at the man and did her best to ignore the growing tension between them. He was, she decided, everything she found annoying in mundanes. At that moment she was unable to see the good qualities in the man, his courage and sense of sacrifice to his people had been clouded by the few argumentative conversations between them.

"I don't think I would like your home," said Boromir coldly. "It sounds too strange."

"Perhaps not," said Aiedale with a faint smirk, "it isn't a welcoming place." She had decided to treat the man as she usually treated mundanes – with a faintly condescending manner that would no doubt be highly irritating for a man used to holding people's respect.

Gandalf chuckled, "Your home is a dangerous place. Or at least your mother described it as such." The wizard had drawn a pipe out of one inner pocket and now was blowing smoke rings up towards the rapidly darkening sky. Stars were beginning flicker on like lights being turned on and a sliver of moon shone down on them.

"It is dangerous if you do not know how to survive in it," said Aiedale as she gazed at the flames dancing before. A small pot bubbled along above the cherry flames and Sam didn't seem to be listening to the conversation as he concentrated on the meal he was cooking. "But once you know the street rules," Aiedale shrugged, "you are fine."

That was stretching it a bit, but it was mostly true. Don't walk down dark allies by yourself without a weapon. Check. Learn to smile as sweetly as an innocent teenaged beauty in a black party dress as you prepared to attack as a Nephilim warrior. Check. Don't go to a city park late at night and not expect to be attacked. Check. Don't go anywhere without a cell phone and some sort of weapon. Check. If you are looking to get killed then do none of the above. Easy. She had grown up in a city larger than any in Middle Earth and her world of demons and angel blades did have its own rules. You understood them and you played with them accordingly.

"But even you die," said Gandalf and his eyes looked down on her. "So not even knowing all the rules can save you." Your mother died, went the unspoken words in that sentence. Your father died. Shadowhunters die in the back allies of the city – in all the cities of the world - which you live in on an alarmingly rate. You will die to.

Aiedale looked at the wizard and she knew that even Sam was listening now. "No," she said, "sometimes knowing the rules aren't enough, but it does prevent you from making too many enemies." Why, wondered the Shadowhunter, had they brought this topic up?

"You will die," hissed the demon. "I will make sure of it Darklighter."

"You go right ahead," she had said back to him with a blazing seraph blade in her hand. "See if you can…"

Aiedale blinked the memory away. It bothered her how much remembering she was doing these days. The past was the past and in her world there was only so much time to remember, but in this world she seemed to have too much time on her hands to think. Or maybe it was just because everyone was so insatiably curious about her and it was stirring things up she would rather leave unstirred.

"You have enemies?" asked Boromir curiously. The man of Gondor was gazing at the pale face of the young woman that he found so irritatingly confusing and too intriguing all at the same time. What kind of enemies did she make? Scorned lovers perhaps?

"Of course," she said conversationally as if discussing the weather, "you don't go around doing what I do and not make a few. One of these days it might catch up with me." Determined to end this conversation before people asked just what she did do, Aiedale rose and said, "I will go get some more firewood." She didn't wait for a response before adding, "And I am more than capable of beheading a few orcs." The last thing she wanted was for one of these noble men to feel the need to accompany her a few meters into the dark trees.

By the Angel she was not in need of hand holding!

They didn't need any more firewood, but she was sick of the conversation. Spinning away she moved into the shadows of the trees. If every night she had to answer questions about herself… well she might just have to pointedly turn them around to the questioner. Her life was not a book and she would not serve as a source of dinner story telling. It was bad enough to feel as a dictionary on Shadowhunters and she was - by the Angel! – not an stack of index cards all carefully ordered alphabetically!

Coming to a stop beside an old, gnarled tree she slowed her breathing and closed her eyes. It was understandable, whispered the logical part of her mind. They know what to expect from each other. Elves are immortal and fair. Dwarves are as stubborn as the stone they love. Men are just men with all the flaws you expect of them. Hobbits love their home and stay out of things. Wizards go around doing 'wizard' things and one just expects them to show up and either save the world or set off fireworks.

But Shadowhunters…

They had no idea what she could do.

They had just seen her spar and she had hardly been trying then – which must have been obvious to these experienced warriors. A wizard and elf Lord respected her; the wizard was even impressed by whatever hidden skills she had. Everything she had chosen to share had only raised the level of mystery around her and, in the coming months of travel, they would, sooner or later, find out the full story of who/what she was. Even her choice of dark clothing added to the air of mystery as did her strange weapons. This thought, however reasonable and fair, made Aiedale want to scream in frustration. There had to be rules on this sort of thing! She had made promises to herself not to revisit certain things and she had no desire to explain anything. She had done enough explaining for a life time.

Forcing herself to quiet down, she gathered a little wood and prepared to return to camp. She was well aware that her leaving had been rather childish and also very definitely told everyone – even Pippen – that she had no desire to speak of anything related to her. So, while it served a purpose, the action had been rather foolish and would not have raised her standing in the eyes of Boromir.

Forcing herself to step back into the small camp, she deposited the wood and returned to her vacant seat. Never once did she let her impassive mask slip and she remained silent as conversation drifted around events happening in the lands of Gondor or in the Misty Mountains. Aiedale made no comment when the watch was set and she was told by Aragorn when she would take her turn. She just nodded and lay out her own blankets upon the hard ground. It was hard to sleep, she had done very little of these past weeks and, as it was, needed little to begin with. However, in the few brief hours she did convince herself to take, she dreamed.

For the first time in a long time she dreamed…

"'Day," said her father as he picked up a tiny little girl and spun her around in the air. "My darling," he smiled widely up at younger version of Aiedale. The child giggled and reached her arms towards her father's smiling face.

"Papa," she said and then laughed again as she was spun around. They were in an elegant sitting room, the one in their house back in Alicante. A circular room with tall windows on one side and bookcases that stretched up to the vaulted ceiling, there was a thick carpet decorated with a hunting scene. The little girl had spent many hours looking at the hounds, horses, men and other creatures that someone had expertly woven into the carpet.

"Promise me something," said the man as he lowered her and held her close against his side. "Promise me that you will do something for me."

"What?" whispered the little girl with green eyes too big for her small face. She was all angles, like a little bird and, still, there was a hint of the woman she would grow to become.

"It's alright," said the man suddenly, "forget about it my darling." His eyes looked painfully sad as if, right then, he had realized that nothing his daughter promised would save her when she was cornered and alone. That no matter how much he might wish, he would have to let her go just as every Shadowhunter had to be let go so they could face the darkness of the world. "Just be you," he said gently and, even as young as she had been, the little girl knew that there was much left unsaid.

"Be yourself," whispered the man in her ear again, "and that will be enough." But, from the expression in his eyes, Aiedale had known it was not enough and she would need more than just herself if she wanted to survive. Even then, as a small child, she had known that the world beyond the Glass Towers of Alicante was a brutal place. That, if her big strong papa was worried for her, then she would have to grow-up strong if she even wanted to stand on a little piece of ground.

"I love you," whispered the man and he twirled her in his stele marked, scarred arms.

"I love you Papa," said the girl.

The words haunted Aiedale the next day and the image of her father flickered across her eyes every time she blinked. Her brother looked so like him and, sometimes, his much younger face flickered across her vision. The thought of them made her feel heavy again and she had no wish to be pulled down in the whirlpool of sadness that she had been avoiding the past few weeks. That was something a mundane would do. Give in and feel sorry for themselves, but never a Shadowhunter. Just walking, putting one foot in front of the other as she looked around for any sign of danger, was not enough to keep her traitorous mind occupied. Finally, unable to stop herself, she stepped to the front of their group and said to Gandalf quietly, "I am going to scout around us."

The wizard looked worried, "Are you sure?" Beside him, looking at her with a mix of concern and understanding was Aragorn who walked beside the wizard and directed their path. No doubt the perceptive man had realized that the conversation of the previous night had upset her more than she had let on and that, after struggling to contain it all in the fellowship's presence, she wished to deal with it in her own way – privately while hunting. He would probably ask her about it later, alone, and Aiedale was fairly certain she would have to find some way of avoiding that.

"Yes," said Aiedale quietly. "I will alert you if I find anything."

The wizard looked at her for a moment and then nodded. That was all Aiedale needed before she turned and disappeared into the trees that lined the path they followed. The hobbits watched her go and Sam wondered out loud if she was leaving only to have Frodo say with complete conviction that she would leave until things were done. The young Ringbearer had not forgotten Aiedale's oath or the way her blade had surged with power. He trusted her just as much as he trusted Gandalf or Aragorn. He had no doubt she would see him as far she could.

Gimli ignored it and continued to converse with Merry and Pippen. Legolas, who also felt a desire to scout around them, decided he would join Aiedale and cover the opposite side of the travel from her. Boromir was not sure what he should think, part of him worried that she would be caught or killed and part of him wondered that the wizard and ranger trusted her enough to let her go so. The man of Gondor decided it was best not to think on it, for some reason he was sure that the girl found him just as irritating, confusing and intriguing as he did her. From what he had seen, however, she had more of a temper and it would not do to anger it so soon in their journey. Women, he decided, were impossible to understand already, but Aiedale Darklighter was even worse.

As for Aiedale she reveled in the feeling of being on her own again. This way she could satisfy her Shadowhunter desire to search for a threat and keep her mind occupied on other things then the faces of those she missed. Moving like a swift shadow – just like she had been taught to – the young warrior searched for any sign of the enemies that pursued the Ring. Her mind settled into the deep calm it always did when she was hunting, there was no room for memory or homesickness, just an awareness that made the world around her crystal clear. She was back in her kind of space, doing something she was very good at.

Dinner was more relaxed that night and, at points, Aiedale found herself smiling at the hobbits as Merry and Pippen shared jokes.

Looking up at the stars glittering into the sky, she felt the calm she always did when she hunted settle around her. The past was the past and she would get back home. She fell asleep trying to count the thousands of bright lights that sent their cool light down toward her. There was many miles left to cover and many dangers left to face, but she welcomed it. Every step was worth it if she got home. Any price she would pay to see the faces of those she loved again.

Hay there, sorry for the slow update! Hope you enjoy it and thank you for all the reviews, favorites, follows and reads!

Review Replies:

Lady Archer: You are the best :) thank you for all your support! Yes I do have another fan fiction, it is called 'Zoe' and is an Inheritance Cycle fic. I warn you that the early chapters are pretty rough (it was my first attempt at a FF) but the later chapters do get smoother as I get better! lol ah and thank you for the reminder, I am a bit bad about the 'to' and 'too!' Thank you again! and happy reading/writing to you!

Chris: Practice until your fingers fall off! was my English teacher's favorite line last year. I guess I love reading and reading books gives me ideas :) I am glad you like Aiedale...she is a fun person to write and kind of reminds me of Zoe a little in places to. Of course: thank you for the review! They are awesome! :)

wickedgrl123: Thank you :) you got a bit of a taste of Aiedale/Fellowship in this chapter and there will be much more to follow! Thank you again for the review and I hope you enjoy this chapter!