"Aiedale," said Aragorn and his face visibly relaxed.

"Did you wonder if I would come?" she asked with a laugh as she came to a stop beside him. She was dressed for travel. Her gear had been repaired and her weapons gleamed after all the pre-travel care that had been lavished upon them the previous night.

The man shrugged, "You do not have to come if you do not want to. I would not force any of this Company to come."

The Shadowhunter shrugged, deciding not to answer that statement with the acidic barb that came to mind. Instead she took her place with the rest of her companions and nodded when the hobbits greeted her. They were standing beneath a pavilion beside the swiftly flowing river that would be their means of transportation. Already the Lorien elves had prepared boats for them and packed them with lembas and other supplies. Many elves had come down from their tree-top home to bid farewell to the members of the Fellowship and to wish them well on their journey. Aiedale accepted their words with grace but inside her intestines seemed intent on tying themselves into knots and she was nearly too restless to stand completely still like she should have. Her time in Lorien – both the rest, training and occasional skirmish – had returned her strength but done little to quell her nerves or ease the worry that ate at her.

At last Galadriel and Celeborn arrived and, at signals from the silver lord, the collected elves presented gifts of food and the grey-green cloaks that the Lorien warriors wore. An elf spoke out as he placed one upon Aragorn, the fabric flaring as it was flung around the shoulders of the tall man. "High you are indeed in the Lady's favor! These were woven by the Lady and her maidens; never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people."

Aiedale stood quietly as Haldir flung one of the cloaks around her own shoulders. The elf paused as he fastened the cloak with a leaf shaped brooch. His eyes were bright with sorrow and regret that looked out of place in the bright sunlight. When he spoke his words were no louder than the soft breeze that played with the golden leaves of mallorn trees. "I hope I see you again, Aiedale Darklighter. It has been a pleasure to spend time in your company."

The Shadowhunter nodded her head and met the gaze of the elf before her, "I hope that to. And Haldir," she smiled widely, "the pleasure was all mine. I feel privileged to have spent time with you and your warriors."

The two smiled at each other and Haldir gripped her right hand in a warrior's farewell but Aiedale surprised even herself when she disregarded the gesture and embraced the tall elf. It was quick but the gesture contained more meaning than could ever have been described through words.

And then the Lord and Lady of Lorien stepped forward.

They presented each member of the Fellowship with a parting gift and Aiedale wondered as she watched the others receive both gifts and words of wisdom, what item had been selected for her. Would it be weapon – like the daggers gifted to Merry and Pippen? Or would it be a belt such as the golden sword belt given to Boromir? Or would it be a quiet conversation with the Lord and Lady along with some sort of ring and a magnificent sheath that had been made for his sword that Aragorn received? Frodo received one of the most remarkable: a sort of crystal vial that glowed with the silver light of a bright star.

When at last the Lord and Lady reached her at the end of the line all eyes had come to rest on Aiedale. She stood quietly, her gaze steady as Lord Celeborn stepped up to her first. The silver haired elf took something out of his sleeve and held it up to her in his open palm. When he spoke his words were very soft, "She left this behind," he said, "and it should be yours now."

It was a seraph blade.

It was a seraph blade miles and miles away from where it should be.

For a long moment, Aiedale just stared at the blade that rested in the slender elven hand where it looked so strange. She always thought of seraph blades in the scarred, Marked hands of Nephilim and not in the elegant, slim fingers of an elven Lord. Aiedale could have reached out and taken it but she hesitated. Did she want the things her mother had left behind?

"Why did she leave it?"

The elf Lord shrugged; his face was impassive and his eyes guarded by an implacable shield. "I do not know."

Aiedale wanted to scream in frustration. But she did not. She just gritted her teeth and nodded tightly. Taking one of own knives out of its hiding place in her gear, she exchanged it for the seraph blade. The knife she left behind was a simple one but it had done much and it could do much. It was unbreakable, deadly sharp and trustworthy – she would miss it. However, as strange as it seemed to a warrior unused to thinking of fate or destiny, it seemed right to leave a knife behind just as her mother had. Perhaps Celeborn would find it useful or perhaps, one day in the future, a homesick Shadowhunter searching for answers to problems that were too confusing and earthshattering for them to solve alone would be given it.

Who knows?

"Why?" asked the elf Lord as he glanced down at the knife and then back at her with open surprise and curiosity. "Why are you leaving this with me?"

Aiedale shrugged, "It feels right." She glanced to where the Fellowship awaited her by the river and the boats that would carry them away from the Golden Wood. "And I am Shadowhunter. We always listen to our instincts. They are seldom wrong."

The elf Lord smiled faintly, "May we meet again in happier times, Aiedale Darklighter."

"Yes," she said and she was glad he said those words and not a more formal, strained farewell that she would have found impossibly strange and awkward to respond to.

Galadriel then moved forward and came to stand beside her husband. She smiled gently at Aiedale and said quietly, "Long I wondered what item to give you. I finally settled on this." An elf maiden with glittering golden hair stepped forward and passed the lady an object wrapped in silvery cloth. "You have never faltered but there will be times in the coming days when you will need the support of others and they will need you. Your voice may be lost in the clamor of war and shadows that darken this land. Let my gift to you, Aiedale Darklighter, ensure that you will be heard."

Aiedale accepted the wrapped object and, with one hand, she slipped the cloth back and her eyes widened in surprise and delight. It was a horn and very different from the one that always sat on Boromir's hip. This horn was slim with carved silver on the mouth and delicate scrollwork. The strap was a narrow but woven from the same cloth as the cloaks that the Fellowship had been given. Aiedale had seen similar horns during her time with the Lorien warriors but none – to her mind at least – were as fine as this one.

"I wish you luck, in every aspect of your journey," said the elf Queen as she lightly grasped Aiedale's hand and squeezed them in farewell.

"Thank you," said Aiedale simply as reciprocated the gesture, the two stepped back simultaneously, their exchange over, and an understanding between them. The watching Fellowship had the feeling that, though they could not hear what was being said, that there was more to the exchange then was visible. When asked later Aiedale could only say that she had come to an understanding with the elf Queen about more than just where they stood together but about something wider, something far more important that contained many elements and many things to consider.

All had been made ready for their departure. The Company took their places in the boats and the rippling water took them away. They all sat still without moving or speaking as they watched the fair land of Lorien fall away. On the green bank the Lady Galadriel and her Lord stood silent. As they passed them the two raised their hands in farewell and, even as Aiedale watched them, the Silverlode passed out into the currents of the Great River, and their boats turned and began to speed southward. Soon the white form of the Lady and silver one of her Lord was small and distant. As the silver and gold forms shrank and finally vanished, the sound of the elf Lady's ethereal singing faded away.

But the Shadowhunter turned her head and her focus to the River around her and the banks that had risen up around them. The sun and water before her was inviting, the familiar thrill for adventure rising within her and no tears obscured her vision although the other members of her Company did weep. She would miss Lorien and part of her already knew she would never set foot in that enchanted place again but, to her mind, her own Alicante was fairer than Caras Galadhon. And, even if a tear did long to spill down her face, she was not going to cry at the beginning of the second leg of this journey.

Her musings were, however, interrupted a moment later when Merry and Pippen – both riding with Boromir – came up beside the boat Aiedale was sharing with Gimli and Legolas. "What do you think is out there?" asked Merry as he turned to look at the Shadowhunter perched in the prow of the boat that rode beside his own. The hobbit thought she was leaning rather far out over the water but he did not say anything about it to her, not wanting her to tell him not to worry about her.

"The world," said Aiedale darkly as she considered just what might be out there and, even more horrifying, the danger from within the Fellowship. "The infinite world," she said without looking at the hobbit.

"That isn't an answer!" said the hobbit with a note of frustrated exasperation in his voice. "That is just something an elf would say!"

Aiedale couldn't help but smile at the hobbit. "What do you want me to say? There are mountains, kingdoms with shining castles and there are raging rivers, forests and forgotten roads. There are orcs, wizards, soldiers, princes and elves."

"But what is out there for you?" asked the hobbit, unknowingly asking the question that haunted the Shadowhunter's thoughts. "What is out there for us?"

She was silent for a long time. The only sounds were the water and the wind. "The Angel only knows, Merry."

They saw no sign of the enemy as they traveled that day or the next. Lorien had long since passed out of view and, it would seem, taken much of the Company's cheer. The borders of the river were guarded by tall dark trees that held neither the beauty nor the magnificence of the mallorns. The water that ran around and beneath their boats was swift and bitingly cold. Occasionally Aiedale would drop a hand into it and feel the pull of the powerful current that swept them downstream. Her eyes constantly scanned the forested the banks and she felt uneasy. No voice of bird broke the silence. When dusk fell, great trees passed by like ghosts, thrusting their twisted thirsty roots down into the water and Aiedale came to respect Legolas's skill with a paddle as he guided their small boat around these hazards. The entire landscape seemed to scream danger and she felt as if there were unseen eyes watching the progress of their company even if she could not catch a glimpse of the lands that lay behind the bare woods.

Aragorn was not in any rush to speed their progress down the river. He argued it was better to save their strength for the journey that waited for them after the river and allow the current to pull them without the aid of their paddles. Their journey usually continued late into the evening, hours after the setting sun, and they were usually upon the river again before the sun rose again in the east.

It was on the second day of travel, as the Company pulled their boats ashore that Aiedale could bear it no longer. She itched to move and stretch her stiff muscles but she also wished to set to rest a few of the nagging worries that troubled her. Touching Aragorn gently on the shoulder Aiedale pulled him away from the others said quietly to him, "I am going scouting."

The man sighed heavily. "I do not like the idea of you going out there by yourself. Haldir and his warriors reported sightings of creatures stronger and cannier than orcs. What if you encountered them?"

"Aragorn," she said with a hint of sternness. "Your concern for my wellbeing does you credit but let me remind you that I spent a good deal of my time in Lorien with Haldir and his men. I have scouted a great deal in my life and know when to hide and when to fight."

"Will you be back before we leave?"

She nodded.

"Then be careful," he said seriously. "We cannot afford to lose you again, Aiedale."

His words sent a warm feeling through the Shadowhunter as she nodded her head and turned away. By the Angel, she thought to herself, these people knew how to say things that made you feel at one moment extremely irritated and the next like throwing your arms around them.

As Aiedale made her way through the silent forest, she found herself considering things as she hadn't been able to the past few days or even weeks. Her memories of Lorien and her time there had a certain flavor to them. While she could recall her thoughts and her memories of things she had done, said and seen there was a kind of foggy coating to them. Out here, in the grim reality of the wilderness, she found herself appreciating the clarity her surroundings and responsibility as scout provided her with. Aiedale decided she had been entirely too preoccupied with her mother and not at all focused on the important things such as getting home and keeping her oath to Frodo.

Chief among her thoughts was Boromir and the unfortunate way the Ring seemed to be dividing their Fellowship. She sensed that a confrontation was approaching and it was that feeling coupled with a real desire to scout for enemies, that had finally forced her to leave the Company for a time. The climax - whether it would be an argument or not - would be coupled, she guessed, with the very real decision of who would continue on with Frodo on the last leg of their journey and how they would go about actually getting to Mordor. Such tensions were only exacerbating a problem that had always lurked within their company. Aiedale's instincts told her that the man of Gondor could not hold out much longer against the whispering, evil band of gold that hung on a chain around Frodo's neck. What the Ring would force the man to do and the effects it would have on the Fellowship was shrouded in the mists of the future but Aiedale was uneasy. She knew a little of the Ring's power and she knew what kind of man Boromir was – she even deeply respected him to some extent – but that did not change the bare facts.

For the first time Aiedale wished Gandalf was there. The wizard, she thought, would have known exactly what to do about Boromir and the Ring. He would have known and provided them with the right path upon which to walk. She may have mistrusted him – even hated him at points – but that did not change the part of her that respected him and the way he had handled the delicate feelings of those that made up their Fellowship.

Aiedale paused and examined the trees around her. They seemed hostile to her, as if they harbored secrets eyes and lurking dangers. However, thought the warrior, better trees and forested banks then open land. When the company was out upon the Anduin they were too exposed, afloat in little boats in the midst of a river that was the frontier of war.

She listened intently but could sense no vibrations in the still air that signaled danger. This lack of pursuers irked her but she hadn't gone very far yet and it could be that whatever was following them – she knew there was something – had been left behind for a time. Shaking her head clear of her thoughts and focusing all her attention on what lay before her, Aiedale continued on after her momentary pause. Her light footsteps barely left an imprint in the dry ground.

"Did you find anything?" asked Aragorn when the Shadowhunter slipped back into their camp. The Fellowship was beginning to stir. Legolas was already down at the boats ensuring that their supplies and gear was correctly stored and balanced for the journey ahead. Boromir, Aiedale noticed, was still asleep but on the other side of the camp from Frodo who was practically buried under a mound of hobbits.

"No," she said as she sat down beside him on a fallen log. "But I feel like I almost did. The creature," she said with a frown, "that was in Moria. The one that you said to leave alone but followed us for most of the journey..."

"Gollum?" supplied Aragorn.

"Yes," said Aiedale with a nod. "I wonder if he is back on our trail. There is something out there that I…well I know there is something there."

"It is possible," said the Ranger as he rested a hand on her shoulder. "Gollum is a cunning hunter in his own right and he would follow the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom. He may have caught up with us now that we are outside of Lorien."

The Shadowhunter nodded and accepted the square of lembas from the Ranger. The hobbits were up and about, Sam making a small breakfast and Gimli was grumbling as he adjusted his ax. While the scene appeared pleasant and her companions in relatively good moods, Aiedale could feel a cold overtone lurking in the background: the Ring. If she concentrated hard and let down her barriers, she could almost catch the soft hissing voice that she had come to link with the simple band of gold.

"Aragorn," she said before he could move to leave. "What path will we take?"

The man's face turned inward at her words and she caught, briefly, fear and worry in his eyes before he looked away. "We must make a decision soon," he said at last. "It will be forced upon us when we come to Rauros and the Tindrock Isle which still lye some days ahead. What I do know for certain, Aiedale, is that our path cannot take us to Gondor and the White City no matter what Boromir says. It must go to Mordor…one way or the other."

The Shadowhunter squeezed the man's shoulder tightly. "I will follow," she reminded him gently before she stood up from her place on the log and turned away to see if Sam could spare her a little of the gently steaming food.

She heard Frodo say to Sam, "I always imagined that as one journeyed south it got warmer and merrier, until winter was left behind."

"Not so," said Legolas to the hobbit. "We have not journeyed far enough yet. It is still winter, and we are far from the sea."

Aeidale wondered if Middle Earth had hidden coves and white sand beaches like the ones she had visited along the Mediterranean coast line. A faint smile crossed her face as she imagined taking a holiday from the war and visiting one.

"Please stop talking. I don't want to talk about this anymore," she says without turning to look at him. "I don't want to talk about Valentine or the battle tomorrow or the battle last night. I don't want to talk about who's still alive and who's dead. No. Not anymore."

Aiedale knows he is about to protest but then she hears him let out a long sigh. She turns her head slightly and watches his shoulders rise and fall helplessly.

"I am tired," she continues, "of trying to hold things together that cannot be held." Aiedale feels him come closer and she shivers slightly as his hand comes to rest on her shoulder. "Trying to control what cannot be controlled. I am tired of trying not to break things for fear I cannot fix them. They will break no matter what we do."

Aiedale leaned against his chest and his arms wrapped around her. They stayed like that for some time, alongside the crackling of the fire and the ticking of the clock.

They were back in the boats before dawn had broken and Aiedale had content herself with listening to the sounds of her companions quietly discussing this or that as the water moved around them. She was studying the complicated swirls in the smooth wood of their boat when her thoughts were interrupted by Legolas. Gimli, noted Aiedale, appeared to be trying to sleep sitting up for his eyes were closed and his head was nodding but every once in a while he would suddenly catch himself and sit up straight again.

"You went scouting last night," said the elf as he switched his paddle from the left side to the right.

"I needed some time with my thoughts," said the Shadowhunter honestly. "I also wished to see if I could find what exactly has been haunting us these past days but – alas – I found nothing."

"If you go tonight," said the elf as he met her gaze with his own crystal blue eyes, "take me with you. I have felt that we are being watched and I fear the warnings of Haldir. There is some new evil walking the land and it is not orcs."

"Did Haldir tell you anything more about these creatures?" inquired Aiedale. She had heard of them but no one seemed to have anything practical to say about them. Any Shadowhunter worth their salt wouldn't have wasted time saying it was a 'new evil' but gotten right down to how big they were, how thick skulled, their preferred time to fight and other such useful details.

"Only that they did not fear daylight and appeared to be better equipped than orcs are."

The two fell silent again. The elf turned his attention back to the river and the dreary landscape around them while the Shadowhunter looked inward, mulling over the problems and worries before her.

Aragorn, whose eyes roved endlessly over the land for signs of the Enemy, decided to switch their resting patters. That day the Company traveled through the night and rested the following day. Aiedale approved of the nocturnal schedule but she could not shake the unease and worry that only grew stronger with each stoke of a paddle and each passing minute. Her tense nerves were apparent to all but none quite knew how to inquire what troubled her so and it unsettled them. A worried Shadowhunter, they had come to learn, was something to take warning from.

The eighth night of their journey disaster very nearly struck. It was a silent night and windless. The thin crescent of the Moon provided little light and Aiedale was almost
tempted to light her witchlight. It was close on midnight, and they had been drifting for some while, hardly using their paddles, when Sam – the watchman in the leading boat – cried out. He could barely make out rocks before them and could hear the swishing and swirling churn of quickly moving water.

"We must turn!" came Boromir's voice from the middle boat. "No boat can survive the rapids of Sarn Gebir whether by day or night!"

Aiedale felt cold panic seize her. A river was not a foe she was used to and the paddle that Gimli thrust into her suddenly numb hands was as foreign a tool as a seraph blade was to a hobbit. But she did her best, trying to copy the movements of Legolas. It took a few minutes before the three boats were checked. At first it seemed that they made little to no headway against the current, and all the time they were carried nearer and nearer to the eastern bank.

Twang!

Bowstrings! The Shadowhunter recognized the sound instantly and the paddle was dropped into the bottom of the boat as she reached for her own bow. Even with her superior vision she could only just make out the forms of orcs running to and fro upon the long single banks that lay underneath the eastern bank.

"Yrch!" said Legolas, falling back into his own language.

Aiedale fired another arrow towards the moving shapes. A few arrows had already whistled over them, a few even falling among them. The Shadowhunter was aware of Gimli and the others struggling to turn the boats away. Realizing that she was better used paddling, the warrior put down her bow and took up a paddle. Stroke by stroke they labored on. Finally they brought their boats to rest on the western shore under the shadow of bushes leaning out over the water.

Both Legolas and Aiedale were out of their boats with weapons in hand before the others had even set down their paddles. The elf and the Shadowhunter stood together a few paces up the bank, studying the River. There were shrill cries coming from across the river but nothing could be seen.

Aiedale studied the sky above her. Her heart was beating unnaturally loud to her hyper-sensitive ears and she gripped the smooth wood of her black bow even tighter. She had nothing to shoot at…yet. However, the same dark and chilling feeling she had experienced the one night she had scouted before they had come to Moria was haunting her. That night she had seen and fired at a strange almost dragon-like creature.

Beside her Legolas suddenly let out a low hiss. "Elbereth Giltoniel!"

He had seen it before she had. A dark, like a cloud and yet not a cloud, came out of the blackness in the South and sped towards the Company, blotting out many of the stars as it approached. Voices rose up to greet it from across the water and Aiedale gritted her teeth. This time she could see the shape much better and it was closer than the first one she had encountered.

'On the count of three?" she murmured to Legolas.

"One," said the elf. Both archers raised their bows – one from Lorien and the other from Earth.

"Two," said Aiedale.

"Three," said Legolas.

"Now," whispered Aiedale as she let loose the two arrows she had placed on the string. The sound of the two bows was almost shrill to her ears.

Above them the winged shape suddenly swerved and there was a harsh scream as it fell out of the air, vanishing down into the gloom of the eastern shore. The sky was clean again but Aiedale stood on the bank for a long moment, wondering at the world she had found herself in and her eyes came to fall on the dark shapes of Boromir and Frodo that she could make out below her. She could hear the low murmur of the hobbit's voices mixed with Gimili's low rumble as he spoke to Legolas.

Aiedale slipped her bow over back and cast one last, searching look to the sky but all she could make out were the distantly gleaming stars that told her nothing nor gave her any hint as to what waited for her and her companions further up this river.

They had come to a ravine with rocky sides to which clung a few trees. The channel grew narrower and the River swifter. Over them was a lane of pale-blue sky, around them the dark overshadowed River, and before them black the hills of Emyn Muil.

But Aiedale caught sight of something approaching in the distance. They appeared, at first, to be two great pinnacles or pillars of stone. Tall and sheer they stood upon either side of the River. As the Company grew closer Aiedale realized that they were two kings that had been shaped and fashioned out of the stone of the ravine. They were vast grey figures, silent wardens of a vanished kingdom that frowned upon the North.

"The Argonath, the Pillars of the Kings!" said Aragorn from ahead.

Aiedale looked up into the craggy faces of the two Kings in their crumbling crowns. They were awe-inspiring and she bent her head in respect as they whirled by the sentinels of Numenor. However, the Shadowhunter knew that the sight of these statues meant that they were coming closer to the place where decisions about how their journey would proceed would occur. A sudden desire to slow their progress, to somehow make it so their boats did not float so quickly, came upon her and she gripped the smooth sides of the boat with white knuckled hands. The ravine was getting narrower and the blue sky above them even farther away. Soon, the Shadowhunter realized, they would be completely walled in by the sheer black cliffs.

Something was coming.

And she wasn't sure what it was or what she would have to do. All she knew was that she couldn't, from this moment onward, let down her guard.

Not the longest I have ever written but I hope it is enjoyed! I apologize for the long wait and I hope to publish the next chapter soon.