Chapter 17; Test Anxiety is a Real Thing:

The next chapter is out! And under half a year. Damn, I'm so good! As I always say, I love and appreciate all your reviews, favs, and follows (which we are at 700 now, yay)! I could give you all the same song and dance about being late with this chapter but no one cares about that. So read on my dearies, read on!

~:o:0:o:~

"Look at this mess!" Ólerydwen shrieked.

"I know." Hattie sighed, trying her best not to fidget in her chair as the elven woman continued to force the comb through the knots in her hair.

"Did you wrestle with a Skin-Changer last night? Battle a horde of goblins? Face the Mountains of Wind?" Ólerydwen continued to exclaim, Hattie needing to grip the edge of the vanity in front of her when a particularly large knot met the teeth of the comb. Rather than forcing it through, Ólerydwen mercifully added more of the scented oil that acted as detangler.

The elf could and would not get over the fact that bed head was a thing. No matter what Ólerydwen tried the night before, without fail, it would be a tangled mess in the morning. Ólerydwen seemed to take it as a personal challenge of some kind, and swore she would tame the wavy locks.

Hattie wished her all the luck.

"Just...the usual tossing and turning." Hattie eventually mumbled by way of an answer.

Catching the hesitance in her voice, Ólerydwen paused in her work.

"Did you not take the cordial I gave you last night?"

"It wore off after a bit. I got some sleep though, so it's okay." Hattie confessed, trying not to sound too concerned.

With every passing night, her recurrent nightmare got steadily worse. It never changed so much as more details came to her attention. The pain of her skull cracking, the warmth of her blood spilling, the whimpers of Wolf as he lay dying…the voice calling her over growing louder…

"Hm. Perhaps we may try a stronger one tonight. You need a good night's rest." Ólerydwen suggested, catching Hattie by surprise.

Huh, that almost sounded like genuine concern. Maybe Ólerydwen is finally warming up to me.

"The bags under your eyes make you look like a specter of death. It will not do."

Oh, no wait. I was wrong, Hattie huffed. Ólerydwen didn't leave it at that however, and grabbed the chunk of hair by Hattie's forehead.

"And these! These chopped locks! Why in the name of Eru would you ever do this to yourself? It is mutilation!"

"I like my bangs. They're cute." Hattie insisted.

She had done them herself only yesterday and was quite proud of her work. She used her driver's license for reference to copy her old look and was satisfied with the framing. Course, her bangs might have looked a bit better if she had used actual scissors instead of a hunting knife, but overall, she couldn't complain. It was good to look a bit like her old self again. Living in a body that wasn't hers wasn't easy, so anything Hattie could do to feel more at home within it helped ease the wait she would have to endure until she could go home to her original.

Not that I'm looking forward to having asthma again. Oh well, Hattie sighed to herself.

Ólerydwen only replied by making an expression of distaste. What Hattie had done was apparently the elvish equivalent as getting a tattoo right smack in the middle of her face the way she went on about it. When Ólerydwen had first seen what Hattie had done, she practically screamed her head off and lectured her for an hour about how absolutely insane all humans were to mutilate themselves in such a manner.

"So, you elves never cut your hair? Ever?" Hattie asked, partially for curiosity's sake but also to stall Ólerydwen from criticizing her again.

"Nay, not unless it is forced upon us. And many of us would rather die than allow such to happen."

"Geez, really?"

"All Eldar have beautiful hair, and we are attracted to hair of exceptional loveliness. But more than that, it is our pride. The braids we place into it are designed with care. With one glance you can tell another elf's lineage, station, craft, and the great deeds they have done. To have those taken from us is to take our identity." Ólerydwen explained, gesturing to her own braids that fell all the way to her waist.

"Huh. I can get that." Hattie said, tilting her head thoughtfully. This of course interfered with Ólerydwen's work.

"Hold still, human."

"Would you stop calling me that? I have a name."

"I am aware. However, I do not like the sound of it. It is too rough and coarse and childish." Insulted, Hattie tried to turn in her chair to glare up the elven lady, but Ólerydwen forced her head back into position, "Hold still I said!"

"Okay, fine. I know my name is silly. But still, I'd prefer not to be called human all the time, okay?" Hattie huffed as Ólerydwen tackled yet another large knot.

It's not like I'm human anymore anyway...

Hattie once more tried to shake her thoughts away, but with Ólerydwen's vice-like grip, that proved to be impossible. She was still herself. Even if this body was a well-made copy, she was still, in essence, a human. And she would be fully human when she got home. She would just have to wait a bit longer, and then everything will be back to the way it was. She would soon look in the mirror and everything would be right again. For now she would just pretend it was.

"By the way...Lord Celeborn has met with Estel." Ólerydwen brought up suddenly. Immediately Hattie's heart began to flutter in a panic.

"Aragorn? Why?"

"To discuss with him your accompanying the Fellowship."

"Lady Galadriel agreed?!" Hattie shouted, sitting up. Thankfully for all involved, Ólerydwen had finished combing through her hair, so there were no unfortunate accidents. The elven lady took the time to set aside the comb and hair oil, keeping Hattie on edge with anticipation.

"She is...tentative. She is keeping watch over the White Wizard to make certain he remains ignorant of your presence here, as well as the location of the Ring. If he remains so she will leave the decision to Estel."

"Oh."

This…this hadn't been what Hattie had hoped to hear. Then again, she didn't really know what more she could have expected. She slumped back into the chair, giving Ólerydwen the opportunity to braid her long hair back to give it some semblance of elegance.

It had now been three weeks since the Fellowship had arrived at Lothlorien, and soon they were to depart. As it was, Hattie's situation remained on a razor's edge.

After the hunting trip, Hattie tried to act as if things were normal. Lord Celeborn spoke with her again, and though he agreed she should accompany the Fellowship, Lady Galadriel remained steadfast in her decision to keep Hattie in Lothlorien. While it was nice to have Lord Celeborn on her side it was Lady Galadriel who really needed convincing. While the couple continued to quarrel, Hattie preoccupied herself by resuming training with Boromir and Aragorn. For reasons she couldn't really understand though, Lord Celeborn told Hattie that she would have to keep the vision she had of reuniting with her mother to herself. He insisted the vision was something far too unstable for it to be reliable, even though Hattie believed it, heart and soul.

If Lord Celeborn took the Ranger into his confidence - baring the vision of course - then there would be several problems. Namely the Lady Galadriel's worry about Saruman discovering Hattie's whereabouts. No doubt this would be a concern to Aragorn as well. Their mission was to protect the Ringbearer and to have to worry about Hattie being discovered or captured…well, it was a lot of work. That and Hattie wasn't entirely too popular with some in the group. Frodo was still very much depressed, and Gimli still thought of her as a dark enchantress. If the decision was being left to Aragorn on whether or not Hattie would be able to go with the Fellowship, she didn't like her chances even if Lady Galadriel now agreed.

Maybe, maybe I should finally talk to him, Hattie considered.

Hattie, ever the student, had kept up with her efforts to come up with a plan that covered all bases to ensure that Saruman was defeated. Being a seer was not easy work, but Hattie had come to some conclusions. Many of them weren't any good, but it was better than nothing. And of course, one of those involved how she would persuade Aragorn to let her come along with the Fellowship. As the leader, he most definitely needed to be on her side if she was to succeed. Now if only she could find the courage to talk to him about it. While a good student, Hattie was not a good debater; arguing of any kind, even pretend, usually made her cry.

But she had to try. For the sake of her mother, of returning home, she had to try.

"There. Done. You now look acceptable." Ólerydwen announced then.

"Great. Can I go now?" Hattie stood up, eagerly gathering some things from off of her bed. As much as she wanted to go and talk to Aragorn immediately, she already had something planned for today that was just as important and nerve-wracking.

"If you so wish," Ólerydwen smirked, "But first, perhaps you would like to put some clothes on, yes?"

Halfway to the door, Hattie froze. Looking down, she frowned at the sheer nightgown she still had on.

"Oh. Sure. That might be good."

One quick change into a more appropriate dress later, and Hattie was finally on her way. She had her journal and supplies with her, but most importantly she had her red bandana. And wrapped up in her bandana was hopefully something that would help her repair her standing with a certain dwarven Fellowship member.

As she had come to expect from her time in Lothlorien there was a guard waiting to escort her at the bottom of the stairs of her little tree. Today it was Orophin, Haldir's other brother, who was nice if silent elf. If only he could have helped her find out which direction she needed to go because Hattie had no idea.

The training grounds? No. The glade where the Fellowship sleep? No. What about the gardens? No, definitely not. Hattie sighed.

This was beginning to be a waste of time. If only she could find a member of the Fellowship to give her directions. But they all seemed to be out doing their own things today; the hobbits no doubt already training with Aragorn, Boromir probably with them, and Legolas off exploring Lothlorien again. How dare they have lives when she needed them! Eventually, Hattie found what she had been looking for when she had the brilliant idea to try looking in the Lothlorien forgery.

When she entered, the first thing that came to her attention was the gleaming weaponry that lined the walls. Elvish blades and knifes winked sharply by the fire of the forge, and for a moment Hattie couldn't tear her eyes away from them. They were works of art, plain and simple. She had to fight the urge to run up and touch one, knowing she'd slit her hand open if she tried it. Still, to see an authentic elvish smithery was a dream come true for any nerdy archaeologist. Hattie excitement sobered a bit when she saw Gimli though.

He was behind a grindstone, using a foot pedal to turn it as he sharpened one of his axes. Sparks jumped from the contact, but the dwarf hardly minded them as he took a bucket and dumped water over it. The sound of metal on stone ran a disturbing shiver down Hattie's spin, another following when Gimli finally noticed her.

"What is it, witch?" He asked her as he paused in his work.

Hattie's mouth fell open, but no answer came. She had been dreading this for days, trying to work up the courage she needed for this moment.

Okay Hattie, now's your chance. You've been practicing in the mirror. Don't mess it up.

"I…I came to see what you were up to." She faltered. The stupidity of her statement hit home when Gimli frowned at her.

"Sharpening. A dull ax ain't good to no one."

"No, I guess it wouldn't."

There was a beat of silence in which the two stared at one another. Hattie worried her bottom lip with her teeth, suddenly too nervous to remember what she had wanted to say. Why didn't she write it down? She knew she was horrible at this kind of thing.

"Anything else?" Gimli asked, snapping Hattie into action.

"R-right. I came to give you your prize."

She came over to where he sat, presenting him with her red bandana. He arched a suspicious brow at it but made no move to take it.

"For winning the hunting contest? Remember?" She said, and the dwarf nodded.

"Oh. Aye."

Taking hold of it, he noticed the weight inside of the bandana, and his frown deepened. Without a word he unwrapped it. Amazingly, his frown deepened even more.

"What is this?"

"It's called a swiss army knife. It's very useful. Here." Hattie smiled, taking it back briefly to open it up for him, "It's got a knife, a screwdriver, a file, corkscrew, can opener, fish scaler with ruler, and even a toothpick!"

As useful as it was, Hattie didn't have much of a need for it. During her time with the Fellowship she nearly forgot she even had this thing. A few times she used it here and there to file down her nails, but not much else. A corkscrew and can opener weren't really called for in these times, and they never ate any fish. Still, she thought that perhaps Gimli would find it interesting. Being a dwarf and all, he might find the mechanics of the tool intriguing, and perhaps he would find a better use for it. She had wanted to give him something a bit more meaningful than a simple trinket.

That, and I really don't think he would appreciate my bag of gummy bears...

But as Hattie handed it back to him, she could hardly miss the look of indifference on his face.

"You don't like it." She withered, all hopes dashed.

"Tis fine."

"Was there something else you had in mind for a prize?"

"Well…" Gimli hesitated, and briefly, he glanced at the journal she had cradled in her other arm, only to shake his head, "No. The knife is fine. Thank you, lass."

Hattie nodded, feeling only a little better that he called her lass instead of witch again. After she had named him the winner of the hunting contest, she had hoped to take advantage of the opportunity to make further amends to Gimli. She knew it wouldn't be much to make up for lying to him about Balin, but she had hoped to at least find the chance to segue into a proper apology. It was long overdue and sorely needed. If Hattie was going to travel with the Fellowship, it would be better for all involved if she at least tried. But more than that, she wanted to do. Because as selfish as it was...she understood now.

Gimli, thinking the moment done, set the swiss army knife aside and went back to spinning the grindstone. He probably expected Hattie to make her goodbye and be on her way, but she lingered. She couldn't leave without saying what she needed to say, but the moment wasn't right. So when she saw him look up at her questioningly she gave him a sheepish smile.

"Never seen an elf forge before. I thought I might take some notes." She gestured with her journal to make her meaning clear.

Going over to an abandoned chair in the corner farthest from the fire, she sat down. She actually had planned on writing a bit more today, catching up on the last of her work in detailing everything she thought would be important to remember for the future. But right now, she itched to sketch out the swords on display. And if Gimli objected to her staying, he didn't show it, which was good enough for Hattie. He finished with the grindstone after a few minutes, and then taking the ax over to a table nearby, brought out a bowl filled with strange yellowish oil. Hattie watched him dip a cloth into the oil before running it over the wooden handle of his double-sided ax.

"What is that?" Hattie asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Gimli seemed like he didn't want to answer, but eventually, he spoke.

"This is linseed oil."

"What's that do?"

"Saturates the wood grain to protect it against scratches and weather."

"Really? That's fascinating."

Gimli stopped. Turning to fully face Hattie, he gave her a hard look.

"I know you to be a curious person, lass. But if there is something you wish to say, might you say it and stop wasting my time?"

His direct question caught her off guard. Without taking a moment to think or remember her practiced speech, she instantly blurted out, "Gimli, I'm sorry."

Immediately, Hattie looked down at the open journal that lay in her lap. She said it. She actually said it. It wasn't how she wanted to say it, but at least part of it was over with. Taking a steadying breath, Hattie rushed to say the rest while nervous surprise was on her side.

"What I did to you, lying about Balin, there's no excuse. I was scared but...no, it was wrong. And there's nothing I can do to make up for it, I know that. Especially now that I know exactly what it's like to have false hope gut you."

Hattie continued to stare at the rough outline of the sword she had been trying to copy the look of. She rubbed one spot until the lead smudged the page, hoping to be excused from the present. She prayed she hadn't gone too far by saying how she felt. Their situations were not exact, but the cruel irony of what happened to her after she had lied to Gimli was not lost on Hattie. Some part of her wondered that if maybe she hadn't lied she still wouldn't be here. Or at least, Wolf would be.

"Aye. I think you do know." Gimli said with a sigh, his look softening, "And you know as well as I, it is not an easy thing to forgive."

Hattie nodded. She hadn't been expecting forgiveness, as much as she wanted it. God knows she still felt conflicted about Gandalf and Lady Galadriel and all they had done. But at least the air was a bit clearer between her and Gimli now and it was some relief. She had to scrunch her nose to keep stop an emotional sting from making her eyes water.

Don't cry, don't cry. You don't need puffy eyes as well as dark circles under them. God, don't cry.

"I just…I still want to try and find a way to make it up to you, if you'd let me." She added, trying to smile.

The dwarf frowned in thought for a bit, but finally grunted, "Then I would ask something of you if you are willing."

Hattie's smile grew as she eagerly nodded, not caring what it was she was agreeing to. Gimli hesitated and even started to blush.

"I…um, well…" He stammered, gesturing to the journal in her lap, "I would like a portrait if you would be willing to take a request."

"Sure thing!" She turned to a fresh page and took up her pencil. Seeing her eye his profile, Gimli shook his head.

"Not of myself."

Hattie's brow furrowed in confusion. He did want a portrait, right? But if not of himself, then who...

"Oh. Oh!" She exclaimed, causing Gimli's blush to deepen in color.

Hattie tried to curb her surprise. She should have known. It was kind of sweet in a way, but she supposed Gimli would appreciate it if she kept her comments to herself. Not wanting to further embarrass him, she started to draw. Immediately he started to peer over her shoulder to watch her progress. As it always was when someone observed her drawing, it took a lot longer. That and Gimli kept telling Hattie that Lady Galadriel's hair needed to shine better than the gold of the earth and the stars in the sky, which was kind of difficult to translate onto paper. She ended up drawing the Lady as she remembered when Hattie first met her, otherworldly and beautiful, though Hattie took some artistic liberation and gave her a small smile. Once done, Hattie ripped out the page and handed it to Gimli. He took it, but he didn't look away from her journal.

"What's that lass?" He pointed to the page opposite the one she had ripped out. Looking down, Hattie frowned.

"Hm? Oh, that's just me."

"You look…different."

"Yeah," Hattie shrugged, "That's what I looked like before."

Gimli was right, she did look different. That Hattie, who she drew from memory and her driver's license picture, wasn't quite a stranger but not quite herself. She had chubbier cheeks for one, and no star-shaped scar on her forehead. Her nose was also a little straighter, never having been broken and fixed by a Ranger in the middle of a dark mine. There were no dark circles under her eyes, and she had multiple piercings all along her ears. But the most notable difference was she looked happy.

"Before?" Gimli went on to ask.

"Before I came to this world."

Gimli shifted away then, a little uncomfortable. Maybe he forgot for a moment that she wasn't from Middle-earth, and the revelation startled him all over again. She was the Stranger of the Stars after all. But luckily he didn't start shouting 'witch' at her again. Instead, he pointed to something on the page.

"Your...em, earrings remind me of Dori. He's a bit of a dandy for silver." He said, sounding slightly awkward.

Hattie though instantly perked up.

Dori? The Dori? The Dori from the Hobbit, Dori?

"He's an auger by trade, but he has a fancy streak. Loves to accessorize." Gimli went on, only to add more before Hattie could ask, "An auger is a fancy word for a driller who works in mines."

Hattie nodded in understanding, quickly finding an appropriate page to write down what he told her. While not as large as the elf section of her notes, the dwarf chapter was just as important.

"An auger. That's cool. No wonder Thorin said he was the strongest of the thirteen companions, even if he was a sophisticate. But is there any significance to dwarven ear cuffs? Or what about the braids in your beards? Do they mean something like elven braids? But then Kili never wore any, but that might have been because his beard was too short. Or was it? And is it true that Dori plays the flute?" She asked, looking back up at Gimli eagerly. His eyes widened at her words, unable to mask his surprise.

"I like not that you know so much, lass," He confessed with a shake of his head, "It's not natural."

The friendly moment between them came to a halt, and Hattie cursed her nosiness. Of course, he would find it creepy she knew so much. Everyone else did. Even Galadriel and she was supposed to read minds! But she couldn't help it if this was something she just happened to know a freakish amount of. She was a bookworm and an archeologist. She was supposed to have an eye for the details.

"Sorry. I'm not trying to be rude." Hattie said, trying to find a way to make up for her faux pas. She blabbed the first thing that came to mind and prayed it wouldn't make it worse.

"But can I tell you one thing? In the world I'm from, we don't have any dwarves. They only exist in stories. But of all the dwarves we tell stories about, you are the most famous."

Gimli's jaw dropped for a moment, but then he grimly set it.

"Truly?"

"Yup," Hattie grinned before she leaned in to whisper, "Even more famous than Durin."

The dwarf coughed then, sputtering something like disbelief. But it was clear her comment flattered him, even if his pride as a descendant of Durin wouldn't allow him to accept it. Glad to have done something at least a little bit right, Hattie closed her journal. As she shut away from the page that held the portrait of her old self, some part of Hattie wondered if there was some symbolism in that, but she elected to ignore it. It so happened, she got an idea.

"Hey, actually, do you mind maybe helping me with something?" Hattie gestured to her ears when Gimli nodded. "I feel a need to accessorize."

~o0o~

A few days later found Hattie and the Fellowship approaching the dreaded departure date. Supplies were being gathered and the boats readied, but the Fellowship still took the time to finish the training of the hobbits. Their progress had exceeded Aragorn's expectations. But it was one thing to be ready for battle, and another to be in it. So for as long as they could, they would continue to get ready. And the same went for Hattie.

"Miss Hattie, remember to keep your body behind your blade," Boromir instructed, demonstrating for her again with his long sword. Hattie quickly adjusted herself.

"Right."

"Now follow through with what I have shown."

"Okay." Hattie gulped.

Boromir began the attack. Bringing his sword over his head in one hand, he swung its full weight down at Hattie to hack her in half. The movement was slow, but not slow enough for Hattie's comfort. As he showed her, Hattie turned to the side, avoiding the swing. This brought her closer to Boromir, but that was the point.

"Good, now attack."

Hattie did. Using the wooden knife he had provided, she 'sliced' it down the underside of his forearm. When Boromir went to lift his sword to try and attack her again, she cut alongside the back of his arm along his tricep. For effect, Boromir dropped his sword, his arm for all purposes useless now. With him disarmed, Hattie pressed the wooden knife to his neck. The whole thing took about three seconds, but Hattie felt jittery with success.

"Like that?" She asked as she tried to regain her breath.

"Yes, excellent work." Boromir nodded as he took a step back from her, "You show good aptitude with a knife, Miss Hattie."

"She still lacks dexterity, but she shows some improvement," Aragorn commented as he came over to them, taking a break from the hobbits as they spared one another.

Hattie stiffened to attention as the Ranger gestured to her with his own sword.

Oh, this can't be good.

"Come, now it is my turn to test you."

He didn't wait for Hattie to get into her stance. Aragorn swung his sword down and Hattie barely dodged it. It was a miracle in fact. But when she went to slice his forearm, her luck ended. Bringing the handle of his sword up just as she reached to cut, he knocked it against her wrist. The wooden knife in her hand clattered to the stony ground of the training yard before Hattie knew what happened. Immediately she brought her hand to her chest to nurse it and her pride.

"Your grip is very weak. That will not do. Your finger has not fully recovered." Aragorn told her.

Hattie tried not to show her agitation. When she resumed training with the hobbits, Aragorn moved her on to lessons with the knife rather than continue with the staff. Mostly because it was something she could do one-handed. That, of course, meant she was using her non-dominant hand. But in just a week and a half, her finger had healed up, bone and all, and she wanted to practice with it. While the rate of healing was not strictly a miracle, it was still freaky as it would have taken a normal human twice that to recover from the same kind of injury.

Though I'm not really human anymore, am I? Hattie mourned silently.

"It's recovered enough," She insisted, "I wanted to get some practice in with it before…you know."

Hattie left her meaning hanging. Although Aragorn had spoken to Lord Celeborn a while ago, he had not talked to her about letting her come with the Fellowship. Lady Galadriel still gave her reluctant approval, so Hattie wasn't worried about him denying her on those grounds. But the fact that Aragorn hadn't given any sign of how he made up his mind - to let her stay here or come with - disturbed her. She kept meaning to speak to him, having so many things she wanted to say to convince him, but the opportunity never came up. And now time was running short.

Aragorn only gave her a curt nod before returning to the hobbits. The gesture left Hattie confused, and not for the better. She tried to move from it by going to pick up the practice knife.

"Then it has been settled then? You are to come with us?" Boromir asked once Aragorn was out of hearing.

"Lady Galadriel thinks it would be okay. But she's leaving the decision to Aragorn." Hattie shrugged.

While she couldn't find the time or the courage to speak to Aragorn, Boromir was a different story. He was surprisingly easy to talk to now, and of the Fellowship she probably spent the most time with him now. They trained some odd four hours together every day, so it was natural that they would talk. Sometimes about absolutely nothing like friends were supposed to. And while she didn't tell Boromir everything - Celeborn forbade her from speaking of the vision of her mother after all - Hattie shared a lot of her worries with him. And for all of his kind words to her, his dedication to helping her grow stronger...the image of his approaching death loomed in her mind. She was still weighing her choices concerning it and was no closer to an answer, her feelings complicated.

That's cause there is only one answer. I have to let it happen. I can't mess up anything more, and the same goes for Boromir. God, I am the worst, Hattie thought, guilt wilting her confidence further.

"Perhaps I might speak to him."

"No, you don't have to do that." She sighed, switching the knife between her hands, "I guess I was just kind of hoping to prove I could take care of myself. I thought maybe that would help things. Without Wolf here to protect me, I'm...weak."

"Then let us continue with the lesson. Your grip is indeed weak. We shall have to use weights to amend that."

Hattie's shoulders slumped.

"Oh god, please no. My muscles are already screaming."

Boromir chuckled at her pathetic whine, the sound rich and rare. Hattie smiled to hear it, but it didn't improve her mood. If anything it made things worse. She had no right to enjoy his company.

Looking away guiltily towards Aragorn and the hobbits, Hattie noticed that she was being watched. She might have expected it if had been one of her elven escorts or even Aragorn, but seeing Frodo intently stare at her was a bit of a surprise. His blue eyes were bright even from this distance. The hobbits looked away from her and back to sparing with Pippin, but Hattie continued to feel watched even as she set about weight training with Boromir.

It had to be today, she considered. After her lesson was over, Hattie was determined to find the opportunity to talk to Aragorn. She wanted to uncomplicate things. If she couldn't find the opportunity, she would make one. She promised herself to try all she could. To get back home, to get back to her mother, to hold fast to the hope that kept her breathing, she had to.

"I think we shall call an end to the lesson for today. It would not do to overexert you so close to our departure." Boromir announced after another hour.

Hattie, covered in sweat and her hair clinging to her face, waved him off.

"Overexert? Who's overexerted? I've got energy to spare!" She panted.

Boromir shook his head in humor and proceeded to put away the weights and sparring tools. Hattie did the only thing she had the strength for and stumbled over to the fountain. Kneeling down to it, she proceeded to dunk her entire face in. She always got flushed whenever she exercised, looking like a tomato about ready to pass out. The curse of being a pasty pale Irish, Hattie assumed.

When Hattie submerged, she suddenly found she wasn't alone.

"Miss Hattie?"

"Jesus!" She panicked, skittering back away from the spot where a hobbit had suddenly materialized, "Frodo, don't do that. You're as bad as those elves."

Frodo almost cracked a smile at that, but then cleared his throat.

"Miss Hattie, if I might have a word with you?"

Unsure, Hattie frowned. She and Frodo had not talked very much since that moment before she went to meet with Galadriel. Even though Hattie went back to hanging around the hobbits during her off-training hours, he was either not around or not speaking to anyone. His gloominess had taken a permanent watery gleam to his eyes as if he was always just a moment away from breaking down completely. But today he looked especially heart-wrenchingly sad.

"Sure thing. What's on your mind?" Hattie asked, taking a seat on the rim of the fountain and patting the spot next to her. But Frodo shook his head.

"Not here, if you please."

Catching him glancing behind her, Hattie followed Frodo's gaze. He seemed to be concerned with how close Boromir and Aragorn were, the two chatting idly about something. Turning back, she saw Frodo start to make his way out of the training grounds, looking back to signal he wished her to follow. But Hattie hesitated. She had been in the process of working herself up to talk to Aragorn, not Frodo. Sure, it was on her list of things to do. He desperately needed some encouragement, and Hattie hoped to ease his own guilt over Gandalf's death - which she may or may not have made worse with her stupidity. And now here he was wanting to talk to her in secret. Whatever it was, she felt it couldn't be good, but...

Glancing back towards Aragorn one more time, Hattie sighed and stood up. She couldn't say no to Frodo. So she followed him out from the training grounds. Her guard today was Rúmil, who always gave her a bit more slack than the others. He would probably hang back with the other elven guards for a few minutes before tracking her down. That would hopefully be enough for whatever private conversation Frodo was hoping to have with her.

They walked only for a little while, ending up by a mossy clearing edged with ferns and a crumbling statue standing watch. Frodo turned to face her, looking very tired as he brought a hand up to his chest, feeling something under his shirt nervously.

"I suppose you know what I wish to speak to you about, Miss Hattie." He said, but Hattie frowned.

"Um, not really."

I'm a seer, not a mindreader. Or am I? Testing, testing, can anyone hear me? Wait, that's not how it works.

"O-oh," Frodo stammered awkwardly, "Then you are unaware of my meeting with the Lady Galadriel last night?"

Hattie's eyes widened. Did he meet with Galadriel? Already? That meant the Fellowship was going to leave in as little as two days. She didn't think it would be this soon. But she needed to focus. Wracking her brain, she tried to remember what Frodo was supposed to have seen. The doubt and lingering faith of the Fellowship...the Scouring of the Shire...the Eye...

"I…I know about it. But I don't know why you want to speak to me." She finally answered. As far as she knew, Frodo didn't trust her any more than Aragorn did. Or, at least he hadn't forgiven her for what she had done. But that was hardly a new feeling for her.

"I would have your advice, of course."

"I'm not someone you should really be talking to." She insisted. Since her little chat with Boromir at the training grounds, Hattie had been out of advice-giving practice. Sure, she was supposed to be a seer, but there had to be a time and a place for all that stuff. She hadn't really expected to be dolling out before the Fellowship left Lothlorien. She didn't even have her journal with her! She wasn't even sure if she wrote anything to cover the possibility of Frodo asking her for advice about what he had seen in the mirror. He was supposed to be retreating into himself to numb his misery! She was completely unprepared!

"Gandalf said you were to guide us, provide counsel where you could. And I have a need of your counsel. You know many things, more things than even Lady Galadriel could ever know. She told me as much last night how you vexed her so with your knowledge."

"I vex her?" Hattie scoffed, but Frodo continued on.

"I have been shown a great many things, many of them terrible. And they shall come to pass if I fail."

His expression...it was so heartbroken. And with his next words, Hattie was certain something did shatter.

"I…I do not wish to fail."

"You won't." Hattie blurted, only to bite down hard on her lip. Frodo doubted her though as he gave her a sad smile.

"Is that a prediction or an encouragement?"

Hattie didn't answer that. She couldn't. Could she? No. Of course she couldn't. Such a large spoiler had to have consequences. But then what should she tell him?

"You are close to Boromir, yes? You are his friend?" Frodo asked after a time, moving the conversation forward. Hattie remained just as tongue-tied though.

"I…!"

She couldn't say it. That word, 'friend', it felt dirty to say it out loud. Like a curse had been embedded in the syllables; the curse of being a deadman's friend. So she nodded instead.

"Do you trust him?"

Hattie started to see where this conversation was going. Galadriel had told Frodo point-blank that Boromir would try to take the Ring from him. Maybe Frodo just wanted a second opinion. Hattie couldn't fault him for that.

"Yes, I do," Hattie answered honestly, "But the Lady Galadriel isn't wrong either."

Frodo nodded shakily, then began to slowly pace the outer edge of the clearing.

"The Fellowship…I fear it will break. Perhaps it had the moment Gandalf was taken from us." His eyes, bright and terribly unhappy, met Hattie's, "I am a Ringbearer, Miss Hattie. And to bear a ring of power is to be alone. This task was appointed to me, and if I do not find a way…no one will. I know what I must do, it's just…I am afraid to do it. I'm afraid to be alone. But I must."

He continued to fiddle with the Ring under his shirt, looking so lost and alone. Such a gentle broken hobbit with such a cruel burden. Every word he spoke brought the air in tightly around Hattie in nervous anticipation. She dreaded the moment he would finally get to his question. She hoped the ground would find a way to swallow her up beforehand.

"Miss Hattie, I wish to know when I must depart from the Fellowship."

"W-what?" Hattie stuttered, hoping against hope that she had misheard him. But Frodo did not repeat himself. She shook her head, a panicked buzzing setting itself in her mind.

"I can't…I…why would you ask me? Why not Galadriel? Don't you, I don't know, trust her?"

"I can trust you." At her scoff, Frodo explained, "You may be surprised, but I do. You are from another world, yes? So the Ring does not call to you, and you are impartial to its fate."

That's...a good answer, Hattie grumbled to herself.

She weighed her choices.

Lying was out. She knew by now it was better to say nothing than to lie. As for saying nothing...no, she couldn't do that either. He came to her to ask for advice, and as he pointed out, Gandalf had wanted her to provide counsel when she was asked for it. And he wasn't just asking; the look in his eyes was begging. So then maybe she could tell him? He had already decided to leave the Fellowship, possibly the moment he talked with Galadriel at her mirror. All he wanted from Hattie was a better window for the opportunity, probably to ensure someone like Aragorn didn't follow him. She could give him that, couldn't she? Gandalf wanted her to help, and if she could prove her usefulness to Frodo, he would help convince Aragorn to let her come with? It seemed so harmless, and if it brought Frodo some peace of mind, it would be a good thing. Then why was there a small voice inside Hattie's mind that said it was wrong...?

"After the Fellowship departs from Lothlorien…" Hattie struggled to find the right words, knowing the hobbit hung on every one of them, "there will be a choice to be made as to where the Fellowship will go next. Without Gandalf, the original plan is out the window. Aragorn's been delaying the choice for a while, but soon enough you as the Ringbearer you will be in charge of deciding between turning to the west with Boromir, turning to the east to Mount Doom, or to break the Fellowship and go your separate ways."

"And that will be the time? How shall I know the moment? What marker might I look for to know it is coming?" Frodo asked, pacing closer.

Hattie opened her mouth, but no sound came out. All she had to say was Amon Hen, or even just the date. She knew the date, so why shouldn't he since he wanted to know so badly? But his questions now sounded more desperate. Less decisive. He was planning on leaving the Fellowship, wasn't he? So why did he sound so doubtful? Why was he looking at Hattie like she had all the answers? Alarm bells started to go off.

He doesn't want my advice, does he? He wants me to make the choice for him.

"I…I don't know," Hattie muttered flatly, looking away.

"What?" Frodo asked, but Hattie didn't repeat herself. Frodo stopped his pacing to fully face her. "Miss Hattie, tell me."

"Frodo, I know you're scared, but I can't tell you what to do. It feels wrong."

More than wrong. From the book, Hattie knew that until the moment Boromir attacked Frodo, he was uncertain about what to do next. Boromir's temptation of the Ring helped him make the choice. But now he was asking Hattie to do that. There was a reason why that choice was still left for him and him alone to make. Aragorn said as much to him before he let Frodo go. He was the Ringbearer, and there was no one else who could do it but him.

"Scared? Scared is a child who has just woken from a nasty dream. This…" Frodo hissed as he clutched the Ring in his fist, shaking it, "…is beyond such innocent things."

Hattie shook her head. She couldn't do this. The temptation of her knowledge was too much for Frodo to resist taking advantage of. All he wanted was the relief of having the burden of choice taken away for just a moment. After all, if what she knew was the truth, then what was the harm? If it was what he would have chosen with or without her here in Middle-earth, what difference did it make in the end? But it felt so wrong. Oh, god, she could use one of Gandalf's wise sayings right about now.

In the sweep of her panic, Hattie started to say the first thing that came to her mind. Which was never a bright idea, but she had so few of those these days anyway.

"The Fellowship might be broken, but that doesn't mean it isn't any good! Boromir has flaws, but I wouldn't be friends with him if he was a bad person at heart. And do you think Samwise Gamgee is kind of hobbit to go back on his promise? He promised to never leave you. And Gandalf said he would help you bear this burden as long as it was yours to bear, didn't he? Do you think a little thing like death is going to stop him? Please. And Aragorn told you straight to your face that if he could protect you by his life or death, he would! And Merry and Pippin, they-"

"None of them know this burden! It is upon myself who the world hangs on by a thread!" Frodo cried, cutting her off, "Tell me, Miss Hattie! Please!"

Hattie shook her head and tried to find the words that came so easily before, but someone else spoke up for her instead.

"Frodo, that is enough."

Both the hobbit and Hattie froze as they looked in the direction of the voice. Striding up the path was Aragorn. Neither of them had even heard him approach, and to see him there so suddenly was more than a little shocking.

It was Frodo who spoke first, eyes wide and startled, "What have you heard?"

"Very little, but enough to know that you are pressing Miss Hattie to answer a question she does not wish to." Aragorn answered, looking to the hands clenched at Hattie's side, "Nor will she, it would seem."

Frodo looked back to Hattie, half-angry, half-pleading. But Hattie continued to study the forest floor and shook her head. Eventually, she heard the hobbit sigh - a sound that could, and did, break her heart.

"Very well, Miss Hattie. Thank you for your time." Frodo said softly, taking his leave. Aragorn did not stop him as he passed, though his eyes followed after the hobbit in concern.

God, why am I the worst? Hattie sniffed, surprised to find her eyes were stinging with frustrated tears, Everything I do feel so lukewarm. I'm trying my best but I keep fucking up!

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to help. I didn't mean to upset him." She said to Aragorn when she felt it safe enough to speak without her voice breaking. Aragorn gently shook his head as he walked over to her.

"No, you did well. If Frodo asked too much of you, it was right of you to not answer fully."

"Wait, now I'm confused." Hattie groaned, rubbing her face, "Don't you want me to tell you what I know when you guys ask? That's what Gandalf said I should do."

"Gandalf also said that you are not blessed with perfect vision and the best we could expect from you was no more than the occasional direction." He nodded to her again, this time with a smile of appreciation, "You did your part, I am sure."

"Oh…okay," Hattie mumbled.

Everything still felt wrong though. She should have said something more to Frodo. Something better. Anything except what she had said. She hoped Aragorn really hadn't heard much, as she didn't want to think she was trying to go behind his back. She actually had no idea what she was trying to do, not even now. She was emotionally charged and found it hard to breathe. But Aragorn was here, and Hattie knew the moment to speak to him was now or never.

"Hey, um, I was hoping I could talk to you."

"And I with you. It is why I followed after, hoping I would find a moment to speak to you. Lord Celeborn has spoken to me of your desire to follow the Fellowship when we take leave of Lothlorien."

Hattie nodded.

"I find it a curious thing. After all, your accord with Gandalf ended when we brought you to Lothlorien. Why would you give up the safety of this place to travel with us? This is not your quest." Aragorn said, giving her a studious stare that spoke of his doubt.

Hattie swallowed dryly. This was it. This was her chance. She needed to do this right - please, let her do this right - and then her journey home would begin for real. She had planned this for days, wondering what was the best thing to say. What she decided on probably wasn't the best, but it couldn't be the worst, that was for sure.

Okay. Here it goes. Please don't backfire.

"I had a vision."

"And this is news?" Aragorn almost laughed, "You are a seer after all."

Hattie shook her head, pressing on.

"No. An actual vision. I used Galadriel's mirror and looked into the future, and I saw myself going home."

That dried up Aragorn's humor. His jaw actually clenched as an eerie calm came over the Ranger. The words righteous fury came to mind as he stepped closer to Hattie, whispering harshly.

"You did wha…Miss O'Connor, do you realize what-"

"I know, I know, it was stupid," She cut him off, needing to say the rest before she lost her nerve, "But I'd do it again if I needed to. I go home. I see my mother. Do you understand what that means? It means things are going to go the way they are supposed to. It's meant to be. I'm supposed to go with you guys. I'm going to help things go right. I won't get captured, I won't get in the way, and you guys will be right on track."

The truth was Hattie's plan. That's what she was supposed to do as a seer, wasn't she? Lord Celeborn might feel that it was best if Hattie kept this vision to herself, but she didn't. It was her golden ticket out of here! It was proof that things would be alright, no matter what came her way. That kind of insurance was enough for her to risk everything and go with the Fellowship, so maybe it would be enough for Aragorn too. And it would be better this way. If she told them where she was coming from, her intentions, then they wouldn't angry at her should things blow up in her face. No secrets meant no betrayal in their eyes if she lied and said something about wanting to come along for the good of Middle-earth or some bullshit. She was doing this for selfish reasons - good reasons - but selfish nonetheless. And it felt like a weight eased itself off of Hattie's shoulders to say it.

Aragorn considered what she spoke for a while. His silence made Hattie worry that maybe he didn't quite appreciate the magnitude of implication her vision had. Hadn't Lord Celeborn told him that only Saruman could send Hattie back? He had to know that meant the White Wizard was going to be defeated. He had to know what it meant for her! She would tell him, and maybe she would tell him about Gandalf's return if he was still worried. He was of the Three Hunters, after all, he was going to find out sooner or later. And maybe it would make things go even more smoothly for her! Maybe they wouldn't hate her after Boromir died!

God, no, stop it! Hattie gritted to herself, I'm not there yet, I have time to deal with it later. All I need right now is Aragorn on my side.

"Miss O'Connor, even as a seer, I am afraid you put too much faith in your visions," Aragorn said before Hattie had the chance to speak.

"But they all come true. Every detail so far has at least." Hattie insisted.

"Every detail?"

At his question, a few memories flashed through Hattie's mind. Her picking up the Ring on Caradhas...her throwing the corpse down the well in Moria...Wolf...she shook them away. Seeing her deny the evidence that was right in front of her, Aragorn decided to ask her a question.

"Despite your faith, you did not tell Frodo what he wished to know. Why?"

Again, Hattie opened her mouth to speak only for nothing to come out. Why was he bringing that up? That was entirely different. Frodo wanted her to tell him what to do. But rather than argue against it, Hattie answered with "It had felt…wrong."

"And for good reason. Knowing the 'truth' as you do will only bring us an answer. But that can be worse than uncertainty. With the answer in mind, one may doubt every move one makes. One may fear to go against the tide, thinking the place it flows to is where one is meant to be. But no, not always the case. There is something to be said for forging your own path ahead, making decisions for yourself, in the moment, rather than for an outcome. In no way can one be true to themselves otherwise. Acting on one's own will is difficult when they are being dictated to."

His philosophical lecture took Hattie by surprise. That had to be the most he had ever said to her in one go. She knew Aragorn was one of the many who waxed poetic in the books, but it was a bit of a shock to be suddenly treated to it. As such, she didn't really understand what he was trying to get at, but it sounded important.

"I...I don't get it." She muttered helplessly, needing another minute to process. Aragorn instead treated her to another wise adage.

"Destinies can slip from your hand if you grasp them too tightly. There are yet many possibilities that await us than the ones you have in mind, I am sure."

Oh god, now he sounds like Gandalf. No wonder the two of them get along so well.

Hattie would try and process all this later. Right now she only had one thing she wanted to know, and everything was hanging on the answer she got. Her hope, her chance, her life, everything.

"Okay. But will you let me come with?" She asked.

Again, Aragorn took his time to consider. Hattie wrapped her arms around her to try and hold herself steady. Everything seemed to shrink in around her, and she felt about ready to blackout when Aragorn finally spoke.

"If Lady Galadriel continues to deem it safe for you to leave the Lorien, then I shall not deny you. The rest of the company seems eager for your companionship. And your advice, when asked for, would be a comfort. Provided you are still aware that our mission is to protect Frodo, and cannot guarantee your protection."

A giddy rush of air met Hattie's lungs as she began to breathe again. She started to shake with excitement, nerves, and a disturbing amount of foreboding. But she didn't care. She was going to go with the Fellowship. Phase one of her plan was complete. For better or worse she was one step closer to getting home.

For worse? Hattie shook her head, wondering where that thought had come from, no never for worse.

"As for Lord Celeborn," Aragorn continued, shocking Hattie back into the moment at hand, "I am afraid you may have to answer to him yet again. After all, did he not tell you to refrain from speaking of your vision?"

Now that was a shock. How did he even know that? Hattie only just told him about it. Something then clicked into place, and Hattie's jaw fell open.

"He told you already?"

After the hour-long speech I had to endure from him about the importance of keeping secrets, Lord Celeborn went and told Aragorn just like that? What was the point of telling me to keep it to myself then?!

"Aye, though I knew not that you used the mirror to see it. But I am glad you disobeyed his orders to tell me as well. Honesty becomes you." Aragorn smiled, unable to help but tease the absolutely floored Hattie. She didn't share in his humor though.

"You were testing me?" She pouted.

She hated tests. Was it all a set up because Celeborn expected her to be too selfish and try to lie about her intentions to the Fellowship? Is that why he told her not to speak of her vision, hoping he would catch her in a lie and object to her leaving Lothlorien? Was it the same for Aragorn then? Did he do test her to see if he could trust her after her mess up in Moria? She could see where they might think it a good thing to test her, but it felt wrong that she had to prove so much to people. Their expectations of her were exhausting. Speak the truth but not too much, keep a secret but don't, know every detail about this world and their lives but don't freak them out.

"I shall tell the others you are to come. I am sure they will be delighted with the news. We have already begun to make preparations for the journey, I suggest you do the same." Aragorn instructed, again smiling, "Mayhap I should take time to teach you to paddle."

Hattie tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a sigh. It had been a long day for her, and she was emotionally and physically exhausted. Still, she felt happier than she had in a long time. Finally, finally, something had gone right for her. Now if only it could continue that way...

~o0o~

Hattie woke up thrashing. Fear coursed in her like a thick flowing poison, closing her throat and suffocating her so that when she tried to scream she only managed to make a choked sound. Her body felt so unbearably hot like a fever, coated in thin sweat, though the majority of it was concentrated in her hands. It almost felt like anything she touched at that moment would melt.

Kicking all of the blankets off of her, Hattie squirmed up to the headboard, trying to ground herself. Swallowing huge gulps of air, she was finally able to mutter a "Fucking hell!"

The nightmare was getting worse. Worse because tonight it was different. The voice didn't just call her over, but spoke to her. It asked her things she couldn't remember now, but she knew they had been horrible. The voice was so different from Saruman's when she had heard him in the mirror's vision that Hattie could no longer be sure it was Saruman. But maybe it was an effect of the sleeping drought she took.

Some good it did me, Hattie scoffed, Ólerydwen swore the dose she gave me would be enough to knock out a mumakil! Liar!

It took her a few moments longer before Hattie could force herself to relax. She let her shoulders shag, forcibly uncurling her toes. She pushed away the strands of hair that stuck to her sweaty forehead, her hands trembling. All of her was actually, and she noticed her loose nightgown now clung wetly to her skin.

Needing more comfort, Hattie's hand traveled to the locket around her neck. Feeling it and the dog whistle that hung beside it, she began to breathe easier. Wolf was always there for her whenever she had a panic attack, and even now the idea of him brought comfort. She was beginning to suspect she had been a nervous child and her grandparents got her a dog to help her cope with things. But then the ache of Wolf's absence reached through, and Hattie knew she would never get back to sleep.

"Screw it," Hattie grumbled, getting out of bed. Pulling off the embroidered quilt on top, she wrapped it around herself till she felt like a caterpillar. Careful not to let it get entangled with her feet, she shuffled to the door.

The fresh air of the forest cooled Hattie's heated skin, soothing her some. She needed a walk, badly. It would distract her and hopefully tire her out so she could try and get more sleep. Because the day after tomorrow the Fellowship would leave Lothlorien, and Hattie needed as much beauty rest as she could get.

Beauty rest? Ha! More like wake up and try not to look like you've been beaten by the ugly stick! Hattie snickered in her mind as she carefully, very carefully went down the steps of her little treehouse. At the base of the stairs was the usual posted guard, and tonight it was Aledor.

"Hey." She waved as she came down. When she tried to pass him though, Aledor moved to block Hattie's path.

"I'm just going for a short walk." She explained, hoping he would understand.

"Lle lertala lestasí arcundo." (You cannot leave here without an escort.)

"I know, I know," She sighed, guessing what he was saying, "Can you be my escort for just a few minutes then? Just a lap or two around the garden, I swear."

Hattie would have preferred to be alone, but she figured it would just be better if she didn't argue with Aledor. But he wasn't having it.

"Canwaen naa an tirith lle, alan winimohav." (My orders are to guard you, not to babysit.) He told her condescendingly.

"Come on," Hattie whined, "I just want a little fresh air. You're not still mad about that whole Mirror thing, are you?"

Aledor only narrowed his eyes. He was most definitely still mad. As he had been the one on duty that night, her nearly breaking the sacred object of the Lady was probably something he got chewed out for. Hattie tried an innocent smile next.

"What if I say pretty please?"

That seemed to be the end of Aledor's patience as he grabbed Hattie's arm and began to force her back up the stairs. Hattie tried to use her full weight to pull against him, but it barely slowed him down.

"H-hey! Not so rough Aledor!"

"Tardad, Aledor!" (Stand down, Aledor!) A voice behind them commanded. She craned her neck to see who it was.

Legolas.

Caun Legolas," (Prince Legolas.) Aledor muttered, briefly bowing his head. He seemed ready to say more but Legolas's eyes, bright like the hottest part of a flame, suddenly darkened in warning. Instantly Aledor dropped Hattie's arm as if it had burned him. Without another word he went back to his original position at the base of the stairs and stood statue-still.

More than a little confused and flustered at this sudden turn of events, Hattie flinched when Legolas turned to her.

"Are you alright, pîn er?" (Little one) He asked in concern. He was barefoot and wearing what appeared to be a linen shirt and grey trousers. The casual outfit was a first for the elf and a further shock to Hattie.

Is this the elvish equivalent of a t-shirt and jeans? I like it.

"Y-yeah. I just wanted to go for a bit of a walk, but Aledor wasn't having it."

At her explanation, Legolas gave the guard another dark look. If Hattie had elf ears, she would have heard Aledor swallow nervously. Instead, she heard the woodland prince make an amused scoff.

"Then allow me to be your escort this night." He then smiled as he turned back to her, his expression softening.

"Really?"

Wordlessly he gestured to the path that led away from her treehouse in further invitation, but Hattie hesitated. She hadn't seen much of him recently, and even though they had gotten along towards the end of the hunt, Hattie could not for the life of her remember how their first decent conversation ended. She remembered everything up until the point she mentioned Thranduil for whatever reason and then the next thing she knew she woke up with one of the worst hangover headaches she ever had in her life. Or her life as far as she could remember it. But if Legolas was up for a bit of a saunter, then who was she to say no?

Kind of curious him being out in this part of Lothlorien though. There's nothing really interesting out this far.

Coming up to him, she let Legolas lead them down the path. They walked side by side, and only too late Hattie realized how much of an absolute mess she looked like. Her face all sweaty and her hair stood up in clumps. As subtly as she could, she tried to comb through them with her fingers.

"What did you say to Aledor? He looked liked he'd seen a Nazgul."

"I simply ordered him to stand down. As a prince of the woodland realm, I can be quite persuasive." Legolas answered with a tone of authority as if it was nothing for him to strike fear into the heart of an elite guard.

"Oh. That's right, you are a prince."

Legolas looked down - almost needing to bend his neck awkwardly to accommodate for Hattie's height of four feet ten inches, except nothing Legolas ever did could be considered awkward, how dare you - at her in surprise.

"You have forgotten such a fact?"

"N-no. It's just…I don't know. Maybe?" Hattie stammered, "You're Legolas, you know?"

"I do know. That is my name after all." He teased, causing Hattie to internally groan. If only there was some elvish wine nearby, that would make it easier for her to talk to him. As it was, Legolas didn't seem to mind her slow working brain and continued to chat.

"Why are you up so late, if I may ask?"

"I've been having nightmares. Well, the same nightmare actually. But it's gotten worse." She explained, wrapping the quilt around her tighter, "I just wanted some fresh air to cool my head."

Legolas looked her over. With a frown, he noted the dark circles under her eyes and the paleness of her lips. After a moment he nodded.

"Then let us not speak of it anymore. You are in need of a distraction. We must think of one. Shall I sing for you perhaps?"

Hattie immediately shook her head. She didn't think she was emotionally stable enough to handle being serenaded by Legolas Greenleaf while she was in an embarrassingly thin nightgown. She might faint on the spot. Why was he even offering that option? Instead, she thought of something else.

"Actually, I have a question if you don't mind. But it might be a bit personal, so just tell me if I'm being rude, okay?"

"You have me intrigued. Ask away." Legolas permitted, sounding amused.

"Ólerydwen said that braids act as symbols of status and occupation for elves. But I noticed that some elves like Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel don't have any. I thought maybe it had something to do with them being such high-status elves, but you have a ton of them. I thought maybe it was a Mirkwood thing but I know your father doesn't wear any either as far as I know. So why do you have so many? And what do your braids mean? Do elvish braids act like an ID or something? Has there ever been a case of elvish identity theft?"

At her excitedly rapid-fire questions, Legolas looked briefly intimidated. But soon enough he was giving Hattie a particular smirk that had her knees turning into jelly.

"You notice the most curious things. Tell me, is this eye for detail a requirement of an archeologist or is your curiosity naturally so meticulous?"

"Both," Hattie said as her face flushed warmly, "And you're avoiding the question."

Legolas hummed with thought for a while as they walked. He seemed to be considering the answer carefully. Hattie hoped she hadn't freaked him out with her overzealous knowledge, but soon enough he spoke.

"The Lord and Lady do not have braids, that is true. They simply do not feel the need for them, for who among the elves would not know of their house and great deeds? Perhaps they do at least have one braid to symbolize their love and unity to each other. And another braid to symbolize elven sovereignty like so here."

He then lifted some of his hair behind his right ear, and there another thin braid was revealed. Hattie nearly squealed when she saw it.

"You have a secret fourth braid?!"

A fourth braid? A fourth braid?! I am the luckiest girl in all the world, I swear.

To his credit, Legolas wasn't taken aback by her excitement. He seemed to find it entertaining.

"Yes, it speaks of my status as not only a prince but a high elf of Sindar decent."

"What about the others?"

"This one here shows that my home is Mirkwood." Legolas said as he pointed to one at the side of his temple that brushed over his ear before moving on to the next, "And this one tells that I am a Master Bowman."

"And that big one?" Hattie pointed to the large fishtail styled one that braided the majority of his hair back.

"That one is the most important." Legolas smirked again, "It keeps my hair out of my eyes."

Hattie blinked. Then blinked again.

"W-what?"

"I do not like my view to be obstructed, it is a nuisance. Though I assure you I can aim just as well fully blind if need be." He explained, amused by her reaction. It seemed he was telling the truth though, and Hattie couldn't help but snort in laughter. She tried to stifle the embarrassing sound with her blanket, but it was too late. At least Legolas allowed her some dignity by pretending it didn't happen.

"To answer your question as to why I have so many while the Lord and Lady and even my father do not…"

He trailed off. A clouded, thoughtful expression came over him. He seemed reluctant to find the words he was looking for, as if averse to acknowledging them. The usual air of confident superiority he wore frayed a little. When he finally spoke, it wasn't what Hattie had expected to hear.

"I am still young. For an elf, that is. There is perhaps only a score and a half younger than I in all of Middle-earth."

"But…you're almost three thousand years old. How can you be young?" Hattie asked incredulously.

"My age is nothing in comparison to those who were here when Middle-earth was dark save for the light of the stars, before the Great Journey westwards towards Aman. Nay, I grew up on the stories of the balrogs, the slaying of the ancient High Kings of the Eldar, and the tearing of Middle-earth all those thousands and thousands of years ago. They were but legends to me in old crumbling books, ones that kept me up at night with the terrible thoughts of monsters under the bed and the shadows in the forest."

The thinly veiled vulnerability in his voice tore at Hattie's heart. Legolas, Legolas Greenleaf, once had nightmares? That shouldn't even be possible.

"My father had seen some of the worst that Arda had to offer, but he always assured me those times were no more than distant nightmares. Stories relegated to dust and ancient memory. Except now they have returned. And now it is my time to face them." He boldly declared as if he was speaking to the stars rather than a sweaty girl wrapped in a quilt. Looking back down to Hattie, he seemed to have forgotten himself for a moment, and promptly fixed a nonchalant grin in place.

"This mission is not over, and I believe many wonders and horrors await me yet. I have already been shown the falling of a star, the death of a Maia, the Black Pit, and the marvels of Lothlorien. But I would prove myself against them. And perhaps one day, when I look back at all I have seen and done, I will take my braids down proudly as the Lord and Lady have."

Hattie's mind rushed to process all she had heard, unable to believe most of it. From the sounds of it, Legolas wore his braids because he felt he had yet to prove himself. That his identity had to be recognized through a symbol rather than by deeds and renown. Nearly three thousand years old and he called himself young. It was something she never would have expected from the impassive elf who could intimidate others with a simple stare. Hell, for most of the time she found him too intense to look at, too perfect and otherworldy to ever begin to feel at ease around. She needed to be drunk for them to have their first actual conversation, and she couldn't even remember some of it! The fact that he felt any amount of uncertainty should have disturbed her. After all, if he was apprehensive about the journey ahead, then what hope was there for her? Instead, she found it...oddly comforting.

"Is that why you came on this mission? Quest? Thing?"

He smiled at her, lightening both their moods.

"I often wonder that myself, yes, though I had come to represent the race of elves in the fate of the Ring and to support Estel."

Hattie wanted to tell him how she felt hearing him share all this, but she couldn't find the words for it. Was it weird for her to be excited to see this side of him? She almost felt giddy. At the same time, she wondered how he ever could doubt for a second his infuriatingly perfect existence.

"I'm sorry, this is all so weird. You're Legolas. You of all people, sorry, all elves, have nothing to prove. Trust me."

Legolas's masking grin shifted back into a smirk, "Your opinion speaks otherwise. I am only your third favorite elf."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

He shook his head, causing Hattie to snort again. Eyeing his braids, she got an idea.

"Well, here's something you can do to improve your ranking. You can teach me how to do a braid or two." Hattie reached up to the tangles in her hair, lifting them over her ears, "See, no matter what I do, I wake up with bed head, and Ólerydwen isn't the gentlest when it comes to-"

"Aie!"

At Legolas's sudden cry of alarm, Hattie thought death was imminent and shrieked too. She expected something terrible was looming behind her, but instead Legolas pointed to her exposed ears.

"What?! What is it?" She frantically patted her head, expecting some other small horror entangled there, but instead she felt the cool touch of metal. She took a moment to breathe, "Oh, god, don't do that! I thought a spider was on me."

"What in Eru's name happened? What mutilation is this?" Legolas asked, absolutely horrified as he reached a hand out to her. He cupped the side of her face in concern, turning her head to inspect the 'damage' better. Hattie had to resist rolling her eyes.

Elves are so dramatic.

"Relax, they're just ear cuffs, not actual piercings. There were some old chainmail links at the forge just lying around that nobody wanted, so Gimli helped me put them on. They're pure silver! Look how shiny they are!" She stated proudly, moving more of her hair out of the way to show him. There were five on one ear and three on the other, a near-perfect match for the piercings she once had. Gimli made certain they fit perfectly to her without pinching, for which Hattie paid him generously for with some broken off chunks of her chocolate bar when he handed them over yesterday.

"I had piercings that looked like this before, but I figured it would be better to not risk infection on this trip. So ear cuffs it was."

"But why?" Legolas frowned, looking less disturbed and more fascinated, and this time Hattie didn't suppress her eye roll.

"Humans do it all the time where I'm from. It's mostly for fashion and a way to rebel against one's parents, but it once had status and ritualistic meaning in some of our cultures."

"But...why?" He stressed.

Hattie was about to answer, but her slight panic at his alarm had calmed enough to make her suddenly aware of how close they were. That, and his fingers were now somewhat tangled in her hair, the heat of his palm warming her cheek. Legolas noticed too and took a step back from her, taking his hand away. He flashed an apologetic, and somewhat embarrassed, smile, but Hattie missed it.

Oh my god, he touched my face. He touched my sweaty and clammy face. Someone, please kill me.

"B-because I like them. They're shiny. Humans like shiny things." Hattie tried to laugh, but it sounded too nervous when she added, "And maybe, I'm trying to prove something too."

She didn't elaborate further, not certain herself what she meant. But before the mood shifted too much, Legolas scoffed.

"You look like a dwarf. That's what it proves."

Hattie laughed, genuinely this time.

"You know, I always wondered what I would look like with a beard. You think I could pull it off?" She asked, stroking her chin.

Legolas started walking away from her, shaking his head in disappointment. She could see him keeping back a smile though. Jogging after him, she proceeded to engage him on the much-speculated topic of how elf eyes were able to defy the laws of physics.

~:o:0:o:~

So, I want to quickly address something if I may. A reviewer wondered why Hattie just couldn't have told the Three Hunters about Gandalf's return, because wouldn't that be better? It would certainly make things easier for Hattie to have some people know that helpful fact. And that's a good point! Well, coincidentally, that is what I planned to have at least partially addressed in this chapter and in upcoming ones. See, Hattie now thinks because of her vision, things will go the way she wants if she keeps the story on track, while simultaneously preparing for anything that might throw a wrench into those works so she can fix it. Little does she know, she is the wrench, trying to control too much. Although it seems that a lot of expectation has been put upon her by coming to Middle-earth that she should fix things, which isn't really fair. But like Aragorn said it can make things worse when you think you know what the outcome is going to be because then you won't be acting for yourself but instead for that outcome. Sort of like, it's not the destination, it's the journey type deal - so if Hattie told him about Gandalf returning, would Aragorn still let Frodo go? Why not just skip Amon Hen while they're at it and go straight to Fangorn to meet him? Why don't we just get the eagles already? Etc. There has to be a line somewhere. But I will say the harder Hattie tries to get herself home by trying to control the outcomes, the farther away that chance is going to slip. Sort of like, "got what you wanted but lost what you had", which she knew instinctively when she talked with Frodo, and that's why it felt wrong to tell him what he wanted. Vice versa, the moment Hattie embraces being a part of this world, acting as someone with emotional ties and friends here she wants to protect, then and only then will she get what she truly needs (but maybe not what she wanted).

That's my opinion anyway, and what I wanted to show in this story. All in all, at the end of the day, this is a fanfiction that I enjoy writing in between my job and grad school. Have mercy if there are plot holes you notice. I don't even have a beta reader. I had to make up the elvish word for 'babysit'. I'm trying my best here :P

Oh, one more quick note (lies). There's not much actually written about whether elves have braids or not/if they have any meaning, as it was done for aesthetic for the movies, I think. But I wanted to incorporate them into elf culture, so I took inspiration from some blogs and the fanfiction Jessica Kendrick in: Middle-earth Mission. If you haven't read that one, I highly recommend it. Also, about Legolas's age, I am going off the official movie guide's proclamation that he is 2931 years old. From the books themselves, there is evidence that supports placing his birth after Isildur took the Ring. Consult his character page on The One Wiki to Rule Them All for more evidence if you wish. In any case, I like the idea of an actually vulnerable Legolas admitting that he is young from an immortal standpoint. It gives him this little thing I like to call depth (I would actually say humanity, but I think he would take personal offense to that).

But enough of that. We've spent too long in Lothlorien. Time get this story moving again! Please join Hattie in the next chapter as the Fellowship prepares to finally leave and continue on with their journey, wherever it might lead. Hattie finds herself eager to get going if dreading certain events. But on the morning of their departure, Hattie…oversleeps?!