"My dear cousin," said Peter. He fell silent and considered her for a long moment. Then he shook his head and gave a little laugh, "My dear cousin you are beautiful in your brokenness. What do you do? Find strength in the shattered pieces of your life?"

"Something like that," replied Aiedale. One finger gently tapped the tall stack of reports she had just completed. All of them were covered in her neat, legible handwriting but the language was not French. Instead it was Latin which was the official language used on reports sent to Alicante for review.

"You are strange," said the young man as he raised his wineglass to his lips and drank slowly, savoring the wine as he considered her.

"So are you," she said with a laugh…

"What the hell were you thinking?!" demanded her uncle. "What the bloody hell was going through your mind?!"

"Living," she snapped back at him in a rare show of disobedience. "They didn't need to die!"

"Next time, don't be such a damn fool," he told her so angrily that she nearly – not quite – but nearly flinched…

"Why didn't you tell me?" she snarled at him as she paced the cold concrete of the deserted street. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?" she cried out again and she turned to face the very still face of the vampire.

"I thought he was dead," said the vampire softly in his perfect, clipped English. "I thought you didn't need to know."

"Next time," she said as she reined in her emotions and settled herself into a vicious kind of calm. "Next time tell me. Because I don't want to find myself facing that kind of surprise again. Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear," said the vampire as if he was nothing more than an errant child.

"Then let's finish this," said Aiedale and she came to a stop beside the perfectly pale and still vampire. From one inner pocket she plucked out an ordinary dagger and dropped it unceremoniously into his hand. She was aware of the significance of this move but she did not care about the longstanding diplomatic difficulties between their two races – she needed an ally and he would have to do. "You'll need a weapon," she said in response to his silent question that she read in his eyes…

Aiedale pushed herself up slowly from her uncomfortable resting place on the hard, cold ground. She did so with more than a few vicious curses and winces as her body protested against not only the resting place but any kind of movement.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon. It had been the first few rays of clear light that woken her from her uneasy slumber. Those rays, while beautiful, were so bright she had to hide her face beneath one of her arms until she could bear to look to the east. It was nice to see the sun again after thinking she would never see it again.

She felt like hell.

Like death warmed over.

After journeying for a few miles beneath the bright moon, she had stepped off the road and into a small collection of scrub-like trees where she had curled up to spend the night. Sleeping on cold hard ground had done nothing to improve either her mood or her physical condition. It took her a few minutes of quiet stretching (and cursing under her breath) to ease just a few of her stiff and very painful muscles. She was also incredibly hungry and all she had was the remains of some dried meat, fruit and some nuts that she had stored in the bottom of her quiver just in case. But that was hardly enough sustenance for a battle wearied, wounded and hungry warrior even if they normally ate so little that their hobbit companions were horrified.

With a sigh and a few more stretches, she left the small clump of trees where she had spent the night. Her gaze automatically searched for the distinct line of trees on the horizon that, from what she could tell, her companions had headed towards. She remembered from her time studying the maps in Imladris that this must be the forest 'Lothlorien' and home to one of the last remaining elf kingdoms in Middle Earth. Aiedale supposed going there was a wise move on Aragorn's part and she hoped that they made it to the woods safety and, when she got there, that she would be allowed passage. Somehow, in her blood stained and bedraggled state, she didn't think the elven watchers would be very welcoming of her.

Ah well, she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

Picking up a steady speed away, she did not bother with glancing over her shoulder at the mountain range. She knew what she would see and it was a view she was determined to leave in her rearview mirror. Her time spent in that mountain range had nearly killed her twice. The first had been from cold – a terribly boring way to die in her opinion – and the second at the hands of a Greater Demon which, while a great deal more glorious then dying from the cold it had been in neither the place or at the time she would have chosen for her demise.

At any rate, she was merely glad she could still leave it behind and forget what had happened. The memory of falling, of facing the Balrog…it sent chills through her and she felt tears prick her eyes even as she angrily forced herself to focus once more on the faint road beneath her feet. When she got home – because she would – there would be a great deal of story-telling to be done. She looked forward to it. She looked forward to curling up in the soft sofa of the library and drinking a hot cup of Early Grey Classic tea as her family and friends gathered around her. Aiedale had been something of a story teller and she had read all the Greek myths and many other stories out loud to cousins and brother.

Yes…yes she would get to do that.

With such sweet memories and hopes drifting through her, Aiedale kept moving on. Her feet beat out a soft but regular rhythm on the ground as she ran. It was not a fast run but it was a ground covering one and, even her bedraggled state and with hunger knawing at her insides, she could keep it up for a good long while. This wasn't the first time she had had to do this and, while she hated it, she could do it and she didn't have much choice.

When she arrived at the edge of the forest, the sun was reaching its apex. The forest seemed to be a mix of lush green, softly glowing silver and, in some spots, even gold. It was far larger than any forest she had ever seen before. There was a peaceful air to it that soothed her troubled spirit and she found herself pausing on the edge before stepping inside the shadowy depths to admire it. For this, as she had read in Imladris, was one of the last few elf kingdoms in the Middle Earth. It didn't seem quite real to her eyes but it was for the bark of the trees was rough when she touched on slim sapling and the leaves fluttered in the faint breeze just as normal ones did.

And it was here that her companions had gone.

They were, most likely, already deep within it and she hoped that she could somehow locate them. Stepping forward, she plunged into the trees and began to make her way deeper into the woods. As she traveled further in, her senses began to tingle. A presence – no – there was more than one. It was the unmistakable presence of someone, and it made her senses practically light on fire.

She suspected it was the elven watchers who monitored the edge of the forest for intruders. Not entirely friendly, but not outright hostile unless she proved dangerous.

Aiedale wanted to roll her eyes.

She was always dangerous. They had better not do anything to warrant action on her part.

Slowing her steady pace she slid to an abrupt halt in a small clearing and crossed her arms. She couldn't hold back her eye roll as she waited, with something bordering on amused annoyance, for them to surround her. Aiedale knew exactly how they would surround her and she was rewarded a minute later when several golden-haired elves materialized between the trees around her. Long ago, sometime in Rivendell, Aiedale had decided that the races of Middle Earth lacked inspiration. They did things that were entirely too predictable and she found it tedious. What had happened to creative ambushes and patrols?

One slanted eyebrow went up and she tried to pretend that she was not, for starters, bloody or exhausted or frustrated or so unkempt looking that she found it highly embarrassing. She pretended that, instead, her weapons gleamed and her Gear was neat while her hair – currently in a terrifying state – was in its regulation, one inch above collar, French twist. Her attempt at visualization was not very successful and she was thinking a great many angry, sarcastic things in her head.

"What," said the elf that had come to a stop before her, "are you doing in our woods?" His voice was dangerously soft, but it contained a haughty note that she was all too familiar with from her time spent dealing with the Fey folk of her own world. His bow was raised and his eyes met hers with open suspicion.

Aiedale nearly – not quite! – but nearly rolled her eyes.

"I'm looking for my companions," said the Shadowhunter bluntly and in an equally cold voice that practically dripped the same amount of haughtiness as the elf's had. "So, if you wouldn't mind, I would like you to move."

She wasn't asking. And he knew it.

But the elf clearly wasn't going to heed the warning in her voice or do anything the way she wanted him to. The bowstrings around her were practically vibrating with the amount of strain their bearers were putting on them. But Aiedale felt nothing but growing irritation for – sadly or not – she had been in situations like this one before. The elf before her lazily tilted his head back and regarded her with searching eyes.

"We do not allow strangers into our woods." His gaze flicked over her, "Especially when we do not know who they are or why they have come here."

"I have come here looking for my companions," replied Aiedale as she struggled to keep her voice neutral. "I am a member of the Fellowship and was, regrettably, separated from my friends when we passed through Moria. As it was clear that my companions had come to Lothlorien directly after Moria, I have come searching for them."

The elf stared at her. "You are a member of the Fellowship?"

"I am," she said so coldly and with such open frustration that the elf before nearly winced. But he was Marchwarden of Lothlorien and so, as surprised as he was by this strange girl, he did not show it upon his ageless, smooth face.

The elf stared at her for a good long few moments until he suddenly nodded and, with a swift signal with one hand, the elves around Aiedale lowered their weapons. "Very well," he said in an openly curious voice. "I will take you to my Lady and she can determine what to do with you."

Aiedale wanted to roll her eyes again. At the rate she was going she might just end up rolling her eyes even though it was an incredibly immature thing to do. But she restrained herself and followed the elves. They moved fast and she kept pace, matching their effortless strides with ones of her own. She summoned the last of her flagging strength and did her best to ignore the sideways looks sent her way.

The Shadowhunter was getting closer.

Soon this leg of the journey would be behind her and that would be a relief.

As evening fell, the Shadowhunter found herself entering Caras Galadhon. At a signal from the Marchwarden and a few quick words, the patrol turned away and swiftly disappeared into the trees back the way they had come. Haldir gave Aiedale another inscrutable look and then gestured onwards.

"We are almost there," he said coolly and, without further ado, the elf and the Shadowhunter continued on. Aiedale did her best to ignore the stares sent her way as they traveled deeper into the elf city and encountered more silvery elves. But that was nearly impossible and she quickly grew frustrated with those who dared stare at her so even though she knew she probably would have done the same.

And then they had to climb what seemed an endless flight of stairs. It was that which nearly did her in. Onwards and upwards, she tried to tell herself, but by the time they reached the top of the gigantic tree, she was nearly stumbling on her feet. Then, after a brief moment that Haldir allowed her so she could catch her breath, Aiedale was led forward to greet the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim.

Aiedale was not at all intimidated. After all, her aunt was famously formidable and so were the Fey Queens she had dealt with over the years. Training with her aunt and smiling sweetly at Fey Queens was enough to beat the intimidation out of anyone. However, unlike most that came face to face with the radiant elf Lady and her Lord, Aiedale was hardly willing to give an inch. Beautiful Galadriel may have been but it would take more than beauty to inspire the weary Shadowhunter to bow her head and act impressed.

As Haldir stepped forward and greeted the two seated elves, Aiedale felt something touch her mind. She had felt this before when the Silent Brothers spoke to her, and this time it was very unwelcome. Forcing herself to meet the eyes of the golden lady, Aiedale replied silently to the touch with open hostility:

I do not appreciate such unsolicited invasions of my mind.

Aiedale felt a spark of satisfaction grow within her as the elf Lady's eyebrows rose and a surprised expression flitted across her face. The Shadowhunter, her patience and manners long since worn away, listened as Haldir explained who she claimed to be and then stepped away to stand at attention beside the Lord.

"You are Aiedale Darklighter?" asked the Lord as he examined her from head to foot with a critical gaze.

"Yes," she said coolly. "And you would be?"

"Celeborn," he replied and then with a gesture at the Lady beside him, "and this is my wife, the Lady Galadriel."

"If you can wait," said Galadriel as she regarded Aiedale, "Lord Aragorn has already been sent for."

"Bien," said Aiedale with a quick shrug and she purposely ignored the faint lines of confusion on Celeborn's face at the strange word.

"Your companions seemed quite certain you would not return," said Galadriel conversationally.

"I should not have," said Aiedale without bothering to go into the details. She hoped Aragorn would get there soon if only to save her from telling the whole story to these two. While she had no wish to make enemies, she was hardly in the mood to discuss just what it had been like to fall into a freaking chasm and then nearly get sliced to pieces by an orc army. Who would when they were tired, sore and irritated with the world? Just as the silence was starting to get very very uncomfortable, she felt a familiar presence behind her. A smile rising to her lips, Aiedale turned to see a very familiar face.

She hadn't know what to expect but the expression on Aragorn's face was priceless. Her grin widened as she took his goldfish, wide-eyed shock in with eyes that made everything look slightly blurry with exhaustion.

It was almost – not quite – but almost worth it all just to see this because the noble, king-to-be Ranger looked like a cartoon goldfish as he stared at her with his mouth slightly open.

Poor mundanes...they really weren't up to the task of keeping up to her.

The Fellowship had been given quarters in two spacious pavilions on the ground after their meeting with the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. They were a subdued group and they listened with heavy hearts to the laments sung for Gandalf the Grey. Legolas attempted to translate the songs but he quickly gave up and disappeared into the shadows of the giant trees that surrounded them. Boromir was deeply subdued by whatever he had seen when he looked into the Lady of Lothlorien's eyes and only a few words shared with Aragorn seemed to lift him from the darkness of his thoughts if but a little. Gimli, silent and almost defeated in his posture, was smoking his pipe and staring out into the shadows of the trees.

"What about Aiedale?" asked Sam as he looked up into the towering silver trees and towards the few stars that could be made out through the leaves. "What about her? She fell with Gandalf but they do not sing of her in their songs."

Frodo answered though his voice was so heavy sounding that it was hard to understand. "They didn't know her, I suppose. They can't say things about a person they never knew."

The lady Galadriel had asked after their tenth companion and both she and her lord Celeborn had been saddened to learn of Aiedale's loss. They had heard word of her from Elrond and, even more interesting, had encountered the Shadowhunter's mother when the woman lingered in Middle Earth all those years ago. Aragorn winced as he recalled the meeting and he turned his head to look at the hobbits gathered close together.

Frodo had refused to speak to him since the events in Moria. He blamed the Ranger for Aiedale's fall and Aragorn had not the heart to even attempt to see the moment anyway else then that. It was his fault. She had been there! Galadriel had seen the moment in his mind – Aragorn had shared it willingly – and he could not hide his guilt and remorse. The elf Lady had eased his heart but a little and, from personal experience, Aragorn knew that only time would ease the ache of his losses that day. Adding loss to guilt and remorse was Gandalf's fall into shadow and the heavy burden of leadership that had been passed to Aragorn's shoulders. Even here, in the beauty of Caras Galadhon, he knew his duty and felt the pain of losses more keenly than he did when his feet were set upon a path. He may now be clad in elvish finery and the grime washed away but he would rather never have stopped.

Stopping meant turning around and facing the losses that were scattered behind him.

The Fellowship had been given food and clean clothes and were able to wash the grime of travel away but even such luxuries as fine cloth and food after weeks of exhausting travel could not ease the loss of either Gandalf or Aiedale. The wizard had been their glue, the leader who knew both how to get them to their destination and how to manage the various factions within their group. Aiedale had been a comrade, a difficult one to read or understand but, nonetheless, a comrade.

Aragorn was snapped out of these thoughts when an elvish voice called out his name, "Lord Aragorn?"

The Ranger turned and saw an elf, dressed in warrior gear and sporting the soft grey cloak used by those on patrol to hide themselves even more effectively against the mallorn trees. The elf was clearing fresh off the Fences and Aragorn recognized him as one of the warriors who had escorted the Fellowship to the trees of the Naith of Lorien and then turned back to continue patrolling the edge of the forest.

"Yes?" inquired the Ranger.

"The Lady asks for you," said the elf in quick Sindarin and he appeared uneasy. "She bids you come quickly."

Aragorn left with the elf, leaving behind Sam's heartfelt attempts at a song for Gandalf and the dark misery that lingered between all of them. He and the elf moved swiftly from the Fellowship's resting place and back towards the steps that led up the largest mallorn tree and towards the talan of the Lady and Lord of Caras Galadhon. No words were spoken as they began to climb the wide staircase and Aragorn had to hurry to keep pace with the elf.

And then, at long last, they reached the talan and the elf warrior bid him continue. Aragorn took a moment to catch his breath and then, curiosity building within in him; he left the staircase and entered the wide treetop Hall where the Lord and Lady held council. Haldir was standing very straight and tall to the right of Lord Celeborn who seemed to have just finished speaking something when Aragorn entered. Both Galadriel and Celeborn were seated and before them, black against the white, silver and gold, was a very familiar figure.

It could be no other!

He would know that stance anywhere. That straight, collected way of standing that, while apparently relaxed, was anything but that. The hair, reddish mahogany in the cool light, was unique to one person. A person who…well who was dead or, at least, should be dead. And then, as all turned to look at him, the figure turned on one heel and met his gaze.

"Look who it is," she said with a faint smile as if she was not the one returning from the dead.

"Aiedale?" asked Aragorn and his voice, made soft by his stunned amazement, was almost too low to be audible. The Ranger's face was completely still, not frightened or alarmed in any way, but completely still as if the sight before him was so shocking he was not sure what emotion he should feel. "Is that you?" He stepped forward a few paces but stopped again to regard the sight before him. His eyes took in the dried blood, the paleness to her face and the shadows beneath her eyes. She looked awful – gaunt and grey as if she had just been to the ends of the world and back again.

And what was worse?

She should.

She should look worse than this – Aiedale should currently be lying broken at the bottom of a long drop. She should lost forever in shadow and darkness. He had never thought to see her again. Ever. Period end. She had been gone – out of his grasp and into the shadow of the mine.

"Who did you expect?" she asked in a bored voice. "The Angel?" Her voice rose with biting sarcasm and he winced.

"You fell," he said as he tried to explain his amazement though, part of him wondered, shouldn't it be obvious why he was so amazed?

"It is amazing how people can get back up after they fall," replied Aiedale with an ironic smile. "And I was lucky…lucky until the end that is. Then I was not so lucky."

"What happened at the end?" asked Lord Celeborn with raised eyebrows as he regarded the warrior before him in her tattered, bloodied state. He was reminded sharply of her mother when the Shadowhunter had stormed into this very chamber and told him…

Aiedale regarded him coolly as if they were equals facing each other over a chessboard. "Orcs," she replied, "and more orcs and then your charming Marchwarden who was quite reluctant to give me passage through these lands." Haldir shifted uncomfortably from his place beside Lord Celeborn.

"Our apologies," said Lady Galadriel with a faint smile though she too was sharply reminded of another face, equally worn, speaking words just as cold. "The days are dark and we must wary of who comes and goes in the Golden Wood." The golden haired elf lady clapped her hands together, "But you are weary and your tale, as wondrous as it must be, should wait until you are rested enough to tell it."

"Indeed," said Celeborn with a polite smile and eyes that gleamed with curiosity. "I met your mother briefly and I would like to hear news of her. During her time here she proved to be remarkable and I am sure that, as her daughter and as a warrior of your kind, you must be equally remarkable."

"Till tomorrow then," said Aiedale in a remarkably polite voice and with a remarkably polite smile. Aragorn wondered what she thought of the elf Lord's words and whether, beneath that polite exterior, she was secretly dreading the prospect of speaking not only of her dead parents but of her time in Moria. However, if she felt that way she did not show it and the Ranger was left wondering as he bade goodnight to the Lord and Lady and to Haldir who had stood quietly by during the exchange.

Walking beside Aiedale, he showed her the way down from the flet and, as they walked he found himself staring at her. "Did you expect to live?" he asked finally as they descended slowly, step by step.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "I thought I was dead when I woke up."

"I'm sorry," he said and he could meet her gaze as the guilt and remorse rose up within him like a wave.

"Don't be," she said without looking at him. "For when Shadowhunters go to die," said Aiedale, "there are no hysterics. There is no crying or anger. We expect it. We do what we can and then we go and those that stay….well they do what they can to be ready for when we come back…or when we don't. I expected the same from you"

Aragorn was silent until he asked the question he would never grow tired of asking her, "But why?"

Her answer was different this time, perhaps the truest she had ever given him. "Something about it stirs my heart. I am as addicted to it as a drug addict to their drug of choice. Something about it stirs my soul; I ache for it when it is absent." She stopped on the final step and he turned to face her. Aiedale looked down on him with eyes too dull for the vibrant warrior he thought of her as. "You would have kept going if I had not returned? You would not have given up?"

"It would have been hard," said Aragorn as he met those eyes and wondered at the words she spoke so casually. "But yes…yes we would have." They were walking down a covered path now, leaving behind the moonlight that made everything glow silver around them. In its cool light Aedale appeared even paler and ghost like.

"Good," she said with a nod. "Where are the others?"

"This way," said Aragorn with a nod in the direction of the elegant pavilions where the Fellowship rested. "Are you injured?" he asked with a quick glance over his companion. It was impossible to see any obvious injuries beneath the blood, grime and gear. Besides, as she had told him before, most injuries she could heal with a few dark lines across her skin.

"Yes," she said with a grimace. "And I am weary…I don't think I've ever been this tired."

The path they tread down suddenly opened up to show the pavilions where all the remaining members of the Fellowship had gathered. It was Legolas who saw Aragorn and Aiedale first and the elf's expression was so stunned that he was frozen in place. The elf's sudden change in demeanor attracted the attention of the other's and they all turned to see what had the elf Prince, usually never at a loss for words, so utterly shocked.

"Aiedale?" whispered Boromir as he rose and watched the Aragorn and Aiedale approach. For a brief moment the dark thoughts of the Ring, the fear for his city, brother and father receded as he took in the sight of his fallen companion.

"Aiedale!" cried Merry and Pippen simultaneously and they would have leapt at her for a tight embrace if the Shadowhunter hadn't raised a forestalling hand.

"Gently!" she said with a small laugh as she allowed the hobbits to come closer. "I am rather broken."

But that did not stop the two hobbits which quickly became four as Frodo and Sam came forward to embrace her though they did so with a little more restraint which she appreciated. She allowed them to hug her and Pippen was babbling something so quickly that she could not make out what he was. It made her laugh and she stroked his newly washed hair before, to her utter surprise, Legolas embraced her tightly in a rare show of open affection and told he was relieved to see her once more. Boromir, even more surprising, picked her up around the waist and spun her around as he laughed and told her not to do that to them again. It was all she could do to grab his shoulders and hang on before he set her gently down and then spun her once as if they were on a dance floor.

Did the man really care so much for her? She had barely spoken with him and they were hardly friends but it seemed she had misjudged the ties that bound their small group together. It touched her. Oh yes it touched her to be hugged, laughed at, told not to do it again as if they were all the best of friends and the closest of comrades. She could not help but laugh and smile at them despite everything.

"A sight for sore eyes," said Gimli as he clapped her on the back, "though you are rather a sore sight to see, lassie." The dwarf's last line was delivered with only a fraction of his old humor but the faint note of it made Aiedale suspect that slowly, very slowly, he was rising up from the dark depths of his grief.

"And you a better sight then I," she returned with a quick smile as she slowly began to pull away her weapons. Moving with a slowly, she shed her quiver and then, with the same careful slowness, she cast off the alarmingly large number of hidden knives she carried around. They clanged as they hit each other and, while she normally would have treated them with more care, she was not in the mood.

A light touch on her elbow brought her attention to the hobbit that she had sworn so much to. He was looking up at her with eyes so filled with emotion that any levity left her quickly. Gently, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder, she gripped it tightly as she fought to find the words. "I tried…I couldn't Frodo…" Then, like she had done before when it had been her fault someone died, she whispered out, "Je suis tellement désolé…"

And the meaning was clear enough from her face and the hobbit did not quite no what to say. Finally, his voice nearly inaudible, he said simply:

"I know…but I am glad you're alright. How did you survive?"

"I do not know," she said with a shrug and a wince as she forced herself to leave the useless emotion behind. "How? Why? I do not know nor do I care. I gave up caring when I realized exactly what Durin's Bane was."

"You've seen something like it before," said the dark haired hobbit as he took in the face that had become so clouded at the mention of the creature that had cost them all so much.

"Yes," she said as she shucked the last knife and then began to work on the fasteners on her gear. "Yes...I have." Her gaze flicked over the faces of the Fellowship, "Please. Please do not ask me right now. I shall tell you all another time."

"Are you hungry?" asked Merry with a gesture at the food placed on a low table surrounded by silken cushions. The hobbits had eaten a great deal of it but there was more than enough for one Shadowhunter even if they were starving.

"Very," she said with a faint smile and a sharp tug at her stubborn gear. "But I need to wash and deal with some of my more stubborn injuries."

Once Aiedale had washed, accepted a fresh change of clothes from an elf maiden who gazed at her with open curiosity, she sat down with the Fellowship to eat her first real meal in days. They treated her as if she was fragile, one single tap and she would shatter away into nothing. It amused the Shadowhunter and, yet, their consideration for her was also deeply touching especially the hobbit's attempts to make her comfortable. As she ate with one hand, Aragorn gently tended the still vicious burn marks on her palms.

"How did you get those?" asked Legolas as the elf leaned over to examine the red line across her open palm.

"My seraph blade," she said with frown as she remembered the experience. "I do not know why it did that…it should not have."

Aragorn finished wrapping a white bandage around the Shadowhunter's palm. "You said they burned."

"They aren't supposed to burn me!" said Aiedale with a shake of her head. "But, regardless, it did."

But despite it all and the weariness pulling her down, she could not help but smile slightly as she regarded the faces around her. Friends? Yes they were friends. Gandalf had been right, she needed them and they needed her.

Besides, she had made it this far.

She would make it a little farther.

No life!

No life in your eyes!

No light…no light!

You can't choose what stays and what fades…

No light, no light

No light.*

*Song credits to Florence & the Machine.

Hope you all enjoy this chapter! Sorry for the long wait.

Review Replies:

Kate: She is! There might be...I'm thinking more along the lines of a very close friendship :) I'm not sure I can write very good fluffy Shadowhunter/elf romance ;) I am glad you like this story! Thank you for taking the time to review!

Guest: Ah I know...but she has a boy friend back home! I can promise they will be friends and she might be very key in keeping him alive ;)Thank you for the review! So awesome to hear from my readers :)

leadygreen16: No she isn't! I had to do something different...or else this would be quite boring! Hope you enjoy :)

alexma: Hope you like this! Thank you for the review!

Ray: haha thank you for not dropping your phone! That would seriously suck! Hope you like this chapter :)

Motoko The Red Queen: She will start to open up a bit...I agree that is important for her character development :) and she will become closer...and that will prove to be important in later chapters. Poor Marchwarden...he isn't sure what to make of all these strange fellows traipsing into his precious forest along with some nasty enemies who are looking for them! Hope you like this chapter :) and thank you for reviewing!

Hanane El Mokkadem: haha I love the awesome! I am a big user of that word (it is just to awesome!) so here goes: The epic awesomeness that is reviewers like you! And yes the 'Wassup!' is very appropriate! Thank you for the awesome review and I hope you like this chapter! :)

Water vs. Fire: I am glad you liked it :) Hope you like this one to!