Chapter 47:

"Tell me of your last journey on the Starpaths." Gandalf asked quietly so as not to disturb the rest of the others.

They had been riding as hard as they dared, while still allowing the Dragons to keep up. Theoden King worried for his people should they be left too long without their king, and they had made a fair distance today. With the Dragons' strength returning more and more with each day that had passed since they were freed from captivity (something about the sun giving them a connection to both sky and earth that was dearly needed for the exchange of magick, at least for them), the third day of their travels had seen much of the plains of Rohan pass beneath them and by sunset the next day they would reach Edoras. But for now, they sat huddled around a small peat fire, trying to keep warm against the howling winds of the wintery plains. The others had gone to bed hours ago, save the two sentries posted on the edge of camp, leaving Natasha sitting in comfortable silence beside Gandalf.

"The one before I woke up in Isengard?" she asked, though she already knew the answer. He couldn't have known of the other times she and Kirigan had travelled the Starpaths, and it was something they had only had a chance to explore once or twice while traveling before Moria. "I didn't fly up into the sky, like every time before. Instead I found myself wandering through mist. I felt pulled towards something but I couldn't tell what. I think I heard Kirigan shout for me at one point, but his voice was so far away that I could barely hear it. It may have been my imagination, but…" she shrugged, eyes staring into the flames as she remembered. "I don't know how long I walked. It felt like hours but it couldn't have been…

Flashback:

She couldn't tell how much time had passed since she got here, wherever here was. It felt like the Starpaths, but the ground was solid beneath her feet and she couldn't see where exactly she was going. Something tugged at her heart, pulling her towards it, and like an idiot, as she called herself for the thousandth time, she had followed the pull. What lay at the end of the call, she couldn't tell. It could very well be pain or death for all she knew but it was almost like she couldn't resist it, despite the sucking pull of the mist at her legs, trying to stop her progress forward.

Finally, a reprieve! A flickering golden light shone in front of her, and the mist finally let her go as she stumbled onto a polished marble floor, grabbing hold of a column to keep herself upright. Looking back, the mist faded away, revealing a forest of stone columns towering high above her and as far as the eye could see. Turning back to the light, she stepped up onto a small dais where she found the source of the light: a single torch burning between two doors. No wall supported them and Natasha walked around them, trying to figure out why they were there. Coming full circle, she was startled to find an old man standing in front of them, seemingly waiting for her, if his soft smile was any indication. He spoke not a word, but gestured towards the doors with a tilt of his head and an outstretched hand, moving back to give her room.

"Who are you?" she asked. But the man didn't answer, folding his hands in front of him, inside his robe sleeves.

"What are these? Why are they here?" she tried again, but again received no answer.

Sighing, Natasha turned her back on the man and studied the doors in turn. One was well worn, and a feeling of warmth emanated from the aged wood. It looked like the door to a fairy tale cottage, or perhaps it looked more like the door to the tavern back in Bree now that she thought about it. As though in answer to her thoughts, the door cracked open and light poured out as laughing voices filled the silence. She thought she recognized some; there, she thought she heard Nigel's voice raised in song, the strum of his guitar echoing slightly; here, was that Legolas speaking quietly to Aragorn? But that couldn't be right. Nigel was back in Rivendell, safe with Lord Elrond, and her lovers should be on their way to Mordor with Frodo to destroy the Ring. So why was she hearing their voices?

Shaking her head in confusion, she backed away from the door, relief flooding her as it snapped shut. The other door was not nearly as inviting as the first, covered in vines as though it had not been used in years, its handle and hinges covered in rust. But as she stepped nearer, the pull at her heart became stronger and she reached for the door almost without thinking.

"Is this the door you choose?"

"Choose?" she asked, feeling certain that this was a stupid question.

"Each door will take you on a journey. You must choose which one you wish to take."

"Where does this door lead? It didn't open like the other one…"

"No, it did not." He replied, but provided no more information, simply waiting for her to decide.

"And if I don't choose?"

"Then you will remain here until you do choose."

Natasha studied each door but as time passed she became aware of a strange feeling in her chest, almost like the tickling of healing magick, but she'd only felt that with Gandalf and Elrond, the former dead at the hands of a Balrog, and the latter far away where he could not possibly reach her. So where was the feeling coming from?

"The King tries to call you back to him, but only you can decide how and if you return. Ah, I wondered when the third door would arrive." He smiled as another door faded into view.

This one seemed just as inviting as the first and as she came nearer, it too opened and voices rang out, this time calling to her invitingly. Mom, Dad…her grandmother? All who had died years ago, back in her world; but now all called out to come and rest.

"That way leads to the Halls of the Dead, in case you hadn't guessed." The old man said with a hint of smugness. "Go that way, you will find peace, and your journey will end."

"And what of the door that didn't open?"

"I cannot say." The old man shrugged. "It is different for each person. But the first door, well, that one will take you back to your loved ones, just as you were before."

"You still haven't told me who you are?"

"Can you not guess? Surely Olorin covered that in your lessons. But come, I have others that need me just as you do, and I cannot stand here all day answering questions. Choose your door so that I may go."

"You do not have to stay with me; you can go tend to the others." Natasha replied, her eyes flitting between all the doors, but always lingering on the unopened one.

"True, but I am curious as to which one you will choose. The others have their opinions on which you will choose. Vairë, especially, will want to know, to see if she was right."

A deep breath and Natasha reached for the unopened door, twisting the door handle, shocked when, in spite of the rust, it turned easily and swung open without a sound. Unseen, the Vala grinned in triumph and disappeared as Natasha walked through the door into the darkness.

Wind whipped her hair and thousands of colors raced by her as she flew upwards to finally be embraced by a brilliant white light. Her eyes fluttered open and while she could see the faces of her lovers to her side, she couldn't focus on them, overwhelmed by the feelings roiling inside her. Power swarmed through her limbs, every cell tingled like it was on fire and yet there was no pain. Her ears popped and her vision sharpened. Overhead, she spied a hawk on the hunt and could see his outstretched feathers, the color of his eyes if she focused hard enough. She could feel a connection with everything around her but then her view was blocked and her eyes refocused on Kirigan's head, a single eye regarding her calmly, his eyes filled with more colors than she had names for and she smiled weakly back at him, reaching a hand for her lovers as she sat up.

End Flashback

Gandalf was regarding her quietly as she finished her tale, a small smile on his lips. He placed a hand on her shoulder, as laughter bubbled up within him and he loosed a great belly laugh, his burning pipe held loosely in the hand that rested in his lap. He chortled for many minutes, occasionally wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, until he finally calmed down.

"You are full of surprises, my dear. I had not thought you would choose that door."

"It was the only door I could have chosen. The only one that felt right." She replied, thoroughly confused. "The third led to death, and I wasn't ready for that yet."

"Yes but you could have chosen the first, and returned here just as you were." There was a twinkle in his eye as he spoke, clearly enjoying himself, though she couldn't figure out why.

"True, but it didn't call me like the other door did. It didn't' feel like it was the right choice for me. Only the second door did. And yet I still ended up back here. I don't understand."

"Yes you ended up back here, but you are changed from what you were before."

"I don't understand. I feel the same."

"Do you? Didn't you say you felt your Power in every part of your body, tingling? Did your eyes not change; your hearing? A connection with everything around you? I'm afraid, my dear, you are very much changed from what you were before."

"And what was that?"

"Human." Gandalf replied. "Mortal. You feel things now as I do. As Legolas and Aragorn do. As Kirigan does. Humans, for some reason, are cut off from the world in a way that gives them an advantage over the immortals of Arda, though they don't see it as such. They cannot feel the calm of a tree, or the movement of the earth. If they did, they would feel the weight of it over the years, as the elves and dragons do, the Istari, and now you. You chose the unknown when you chose the second door. Not everyone would become immortal as you have done, but the unknown journey ahead of you must be a long one indeed for you to have become so. Who knows where your road goes now?"

Stunned, Natasha stared at him; sure her jaw must be hanging open. Immortal? Couldn't be. Surely there was another explanation. Gandalf sighed, drawing her attention away from the roiling mass of questions within her.

"I can see that it will take some time for you to get used to the idea. Perhaps when you find that you haven't aged, you will begin to understand your choice, but for now, I suppose it doesn't matter if you accept it or not. It is done now, and we need to look to the immediate future, not the one far off. But that too can wait until tomorrow and there are warm walls to shelter us from this bitter cold. Into the tent with you now, and get some rest."

"But I still have questions…" Natasha complained around her yawn even as she stumbled into the tent Aragorn and Legolas had pitched. Climbing under the blankets, the two elves sleepily pulled her into their arms as Gandalf tied the door back shut with a smile.

Questions would have answers before too long, and Natasha, he could feel would need as much of her strength in the coming days as she could get. And what better rest could be had, than in the arms of those who loved her.