AN: Thanks for the support so far, especially from guest reviewer Lily and everyone who has reviewed/favourited/followed this story, without whom I wouldn't have had the motivation to finally get this chapter done! Updates are unfortunately going to be few and far between, as I have 12 really big tests happening soon, but the next one might be up by the end of April. Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 21

She was ready. She could do this. She was Arya Stark, and she definitely was not nervous or worried when about to meet her brilliant companions who had only just survived a demon rock straight from the seven hells.

...Who was she kidding, she was absolutely terrified.

Her back was uncomfortably tense and straight as she stood some distance back from the silver platform where Galadriel stood, looking down and talking to the Fellowship, which was obscured from her view.

She knew, even without being able to see them, that Gandalf would not greet her. He wasn't there.

Nymeria whimpered beside her, perfectly able to scent Morry. Her tail was wagging slightly, but not strongly; she was nervous too.

What Arya needed was to get out there, make a great impression and prove she was still part of their team, that her disappearance wasn't a reason for her to be kicked out. If she was being perfectly honest with herself, she might have admitted that she didn't want to lose her friends either. It was stupid of her to get so attached in such a short time, true, but she had.

And now there was a very strong possibility they'd disown her. Leave her to rot. Alone.

The iron crown weighed heavy on her head.

But Arya couldn't let that get to her, because they still needed her, right? She could still help them fight.

So when Galadriel looked back and smiled at her warmly, she stepped out with her head held high, Needle sheathed on her right side and Nymeria prowling beside her. She glided to a stop next to Galadriel, sharing a knowing glance with her, and only then did she look down at the Fellowship, cataloguing their reactions and expressions in less than a blink of an eye, a calm and serene look upon her own features. No one looked angry or suspicious – strangely enough, they all looked relieved. A little starstruck, some of them, but nothing too much out of the ordinary.

"Arya?!" came the cry from the four Hobbits, who looked dirty and tired but not hurt at all. Possibly a little shaken, but nothing a bath and food wouldn't fix. The tension in her shoulders loosened unnoticeably when they gave her great big grins, their eyes sparkling with joy.

"We were so worried!" Sam called up, waving his hands wildly. He then looked at her again, blushed red and promptly ducked his face down into the folds of his cloak.

She had to smile at that.

Morry had already given a howl of delight, his tail wagging fiercely as he reared up slightly on his back paws, whining as he looked up at Nymeria. He had grown very quickly, from a puppy to the gangly inbetween that could be classified as a wolfy teenager, and he only had eyes for Nymeria, judging by the lovestruck expression on his long, furry face.

The direwolf simply looked down at him dispassionately, then archly turned her head away, flaunting her soft, clean fur. Morry tucked his tail between his legs and crouched down with a playful yip, whining forlornly when she refused to look at him again, ears flat against his head with disappointment and longing.

It was near impossible for Arya to stifle a giggle, because she was an assassin, she did not giggle at a Warg's first crush like Sansa would have. Maybe in private, but certainly not out in the open.

Legolas was the first whose eyes she met. He looked surprised, shocked, but there was more than that on his face – there was pride, of all things, and joy. He gave her a smile when he noticed her watching him, not broad but no less effective in conveying his happiness.

Gimli, standing beside him, looked slightly disgruntled, but just as happy as he could ever get, though he quickly scowled to cover up the almost starstruck look on his face.

Boromir was staring at her with eyes wide and jaw nearly on the ground. Arya raised an eyebrow at him, and he flushed and quickly looked away, his face as red as Sam's.

Finally, she gathered the courage to turn her gaze to Aragorn steadfastly. He watched her calmly, but she noticed the way his shoulders drooped with relief and the brief sparkle of joy that entered his grey eyes. A weight slipped off her, and she stood a fraction taller, glancing at Galadriel just once.

The Lady of Light nodded minutely, and from the corner of her eyes Arya could see the elven guards leave and vanish into the surroundings, including those that had accompanied Galadriel, who herself stayed on the platform, though she stepped back slightly to give Arya the full space.

The younger elf held up a hand for silence.

The Fellowship, mainly the Hobbits, quieted at once, their ratty clothes and tired postures painfully obvious now the shock of seeing her again had passed.

Arya paused, making sure she had their absolute attention, then spoke out in a strong, clear voice. "I am sure you have wondered who I am, where I have come from, and how I tie into your world." She met the gaze of all the Fellowship before continuing. "This knowledge will not be spread around. Am I clear?"

They all murmured various forms of consent. Legolas looked curious, the Hobbits nervous, Boromir distrustful. The Ring had to be taking its toll. Briefly, she remembered her promise to him, then pushed away the guilt that filled her. It wasn't necessary at all to feel it, not now; she could work on saving him from the Ring's power later, selfish as that was.

Aragorn was the only who met her gaze squarely and without fear. He already knew who she was, had figured it out easily enough after she had given him the information about her world, if the aura of tumultous concern surrounding him the following morning had been any indication at all. He had probably burned the papers right after absorbing as much as he could, for if he had simply hidden them then anyone could have discovered their resting place, and a huge advantage on their side would have been lost. As much of an advantage as it could be, anyway.

She straightened her spine, fixed them all with a challenging look, and spoke her secret aloud for them to hear. "My true name is Princess Arya of Houses Stark and Tully, one of the Skinchangers, daughter of Winterfell and Lady of the North."

They all stared at her.

The next thing she knew, they were all on their knees with their heads bowed down.

She blinked. "Wait. What? Are you lot okay?"

"You're actually royalty?" Merry and Pippin squeaked out. Frodo and Sam nodded frantically beside them.

"Um. Yes? I apologise for not mentioning it before?" she asked uncertainly. "Why are you all kneeling?"

"Because you are a princess, and custom dictates we kneel, regardless of how big a nuisance you were beforehand," Aragorn pointed out helpfully, a grin lifting the corners of his mouth.

Arya hmphed. "So, I'm a princess, so what? Most of you are practically royalty yourselves, so get up and stop straining your knees, otherwise you old men will complain about nothing else for the rest of the year."

They all groaned, but did as she said, brushing off their trousers.

"I am not old," Legolas muttered half-heartedly, shooting her a weak glare.

Arya rolled her eyes. "Of course you're not old." Legolas smiled slightly, and she grinned mischievously. "You've seen two thousand years, old doesn't describe you anymore. You're ancient." He shot her a miffed look.

"Hear, hear," Gimli muttered gruffly, effectively gaining himself a more powerful glare from Legolas. "Let the lass be, at least she's not fooled by your pretty faces."

Legolas smiled smugly. "It is nice to hear a dwarf admit it, I can give you that."

"What?" Gimli spluttered. "Why, you –"

"No fighting please, children," Galadriel broke in, a small smile playing on her lips. "I am the oldest here, so you obey my orders. And those are; wash, eat and sleep. As quickly as possible, if you please."

"True enough, I can smell the stink from here," Arya supplied helpfully. "Considering you all look dead on your feet, I'd say sleep right after you wash. Oh, and watch your clothes. They have a tendency to vanish if you don't keep your eyes open."

Even Sam, typically the oblivious one, noticed the smug look that flitted over Galadriel's face. "So that's why you're wearing a dress, your highness?"

Arya shuddered. "First of all, don't call me that, it's a horrible title. Considering I'm one of the shortest here, I can hardly be high and or tall compared to everyone. Second of all, just Arya is fine. And third, yes, the only reason I have this monstrosity on is because someone snatched my clothes while I was helpless to stop it."

Galadriel snorted delicately. "Ignore her, she enjoyed the bath."

"I thought I was safe and my clothes were stolen, go figure," she muttered under her breath. "Anyway, it was either a dress or go naked, and not even I'm that stupid. At least the cloak is nice, regardless of the dress, and I got to keep my weapons. Oh, and the crown." She tapped one of its spikes. "I like this crown. I'm going to keep it."

"You look beautiful," Aragorn blurted out suddenly.

They all froze.

Then as one they swivelled around to give him an incredulous look.

Nymeria barked out a very wolf-like laugh, watching the scene with undisguised fascination.

His face went red. "You said the dress was a mostrosity, and it's not, I'm defending it! You do look beautiful with it on you!"

Arya felt her own face go pink. "Oh. Um. Thank you?" she managed to squeak out.

Gimli's face formed into a bawdy smirk as he elbowed Aragorn in the side. "And I'm sure you'd like the lass even better without it on, am I right?"

Legolas and Aragorn both choked on their breaths, Boromir tried to hide an amused smirk and Galadriel actually chuckled as the Hobbits went flaming red. Arya felt the blood rush to her face to make it match the exact shade of a ruby.

"That – is – not – what – I – meant!" Aragorn managed to heave out inbetween coughs. "Was I supposed to lie and tell her she looked ugly?"

Arya fluttered her eyelashes and pouted, putting a hand on heart and making lovey-eyes at him. "How could you even consider such a thing?" she simpered in the most sickeningly sweet voice she could muster.

The Hobbits burst out laughing, clutching their sides and practically rolling around on the floor as Aragorn's tongue tied itself up in knots as he tried to explain, only digging himself deeper with every word.

Arya held her act for a few seconds longer, but then her and Legolas' eyes met and it was all over, both bursting into loud peals of laughter.

Galadriel provided the perfect background with her tinkly laugh as Aragorn just stood in the middle of it all, face red and thoroughly embarrassed, covering his eyes with a hand as he groaned at their hysterics. "I cannot wait for you all to grow up."

"Never," Gimli snorted. "We'll get you to loosen up one day, Heir of Gondor, you who can't even compliment a woman properly. You need to practice. A lot."

Morry growled lightly in agreement beside Nymeria, who did a very good impression of Arya when she rolled her golden eyes in a perfect imitation, subtly shifting over to put more space between herself and the Warg. He, of course, was completely oblivious and budged over too, plopping down beside the direwolf and trying inefficiently to groom her fur.

Nymeria whimpered and buried her face in her forepaws.

"Who's laughing now, girl?" Arya called over, and Nymeria gave her a baleful glare from the huddle of her forelegs. Morry practically purred beside her, affectionately butting Nymeria's shoulder. Never mind that he was less than a quarter of her size, with still a long way to grow yet; apparently Wargs grew to be just as big as direwolves when adults.

Maybe that was where the word had come from in Westeros, where a Warg was a skinchanger that had an affinity with larger dog breeds, most often wolves. Robb had been named a Warg himself due to his connection with Grey Wolf. It was possible that thousands of years ago, the man who had founded the Stark line had met direwolves and named them Wargs, but the term had then been confused for those skinchangers who were able to link with the direwolves.

Unfortunately, many things were lost in time, never to be seen again. Such was the way of the world.

Arya was certainly not prepared for the Hobbits to suddenly mob her as soon as they had stopped laughing.

"Easy," she laughed as they all hugged her at once, almost bringing their huddle down to the ground with the force involved.

"We missed you so much!" Sam exclaimed. "It's great that you're back!"

"I thought you were dead," Frodo muttered quietly.

"I'm hard to kill,' she told him honestly, then she looked to the others and grinned. "Group hug?"

They all looked at each other, shrugged and joined in, though Legolas still managed to snicker at Aragorn's lightly flushed face.

Galadriel cleared her throat once they had pulled apart, a wide smile hovering over her features. "You have travelled far and seen much, and it is time for you to rest for a while." A few elves filtered into the clearing. "You will be taken to the bathing rooms, and after you shall be given new clothes and taken to your quarters for the night, where I expect you to eat and then sleep. It is one of the key factors of recovery, after all. We can discuss your quest later, once you are all more refreshed, with clearer minds and lifted spirits." At Arya's lifted eyebrow, she sighed in defeat. "Yes, you shall have your clothes back."

"Brilliant," Arya said brightly, quickly striding forward and hearing the Fellowship scramble after her. "The faster I'm out of this dress, and these heels, the better."