Saruman looked up from the thick spell book at his desk and shifted uneasily. He could afford to display such an action while he was alone.

A black-hooded figure pounded up the stairs to the top of the tower. The door to Saruman's study flung open as the pair of red eyes bore into Saruman, who was pretending not to be affected by them. The figure stood there, waiting. The surrounding air simmered.

Saruman slowly rotated his head and raised his eyebrows like a parent exasperated by a bothersome child. "What troubles you, Lord Anorath?"

"Cease your foolish games, wizard." Anorath shot back. "I was never to be trifled with!" He had answered Saruman's request by releasing the Demon of the Mines from its cold slumber. And what had he discovered in turn? A lie! That strange woman from the company had peaked his curiosity as he traveled back to Isengard. How is it that a woman made it into a quest with the wretched kings and nobles of the races? When she used her power days later, he had felt its release, rolling into him like a shockwave. "Why did you not tell me there was an earth-born with the company?" Anorath demanded.

Saruman nodded patiently, but inside he was trying not to panic. He struggled to make sense of the random reasons that formulated in his mind. "She is not nearly as strong as you, so you need not-"

"I know that," he cut in sharply.

"You misunderstand me." Saruman got up, his staff echoing through the room every time it struck the ground. He walked until he was only an arm's breadth from Anorath. "Years ago, I sent a Mordor assassin to kill her, to end her before she could cause any trouble. He has failed, but now..."

Anorath mentally zoned him out while a deep and powerful presence entered his mind.

"Ignore my puppet. He has no words of use to you."

Anorath was about to ask what he should do, but changed his mind. "I will return to Mordor. Nothing here is of use to me."

The Dark Lord Sauron rumbled with a sort of approval. You are improving. Deference to others is a weakness, though ignoring my commands would be folly.

Anorath glared at Saruman, who was annoying him more by the second. You have a purpose for me here, in Isengard?

"What matters is I want you there." Sauron rebuked.

Anorath visibly shuddered from the searing pain that spiked through his body. Saruman looked at him curiously, unaware of the dark magic that enabled the Dark Lord to speak into Anorath's mind.

Remain with the army. When the time comes, you will have your chance against her.

Knowing better than to argue like a child or mindlessly agree like an orc, Anorath kept silent. Raising his hood again over his head, he left the room, leaving Saruman to bellow to the walls on how he himself would make an end of the female earth-born.

*****

Estelwen was not the only one to notice the elegant black arrow that had caused Boromir's death. Aragorn, slightly bent over Boromir's unmoving body, grasped the arrow and pulled. Estelwen looked away as the blood gushed out. She was relieved that Aragorn had done it himself because she knew she would not have the strength to do so.

Aragorn lifted the arrow, almost three feet long, to his eye level. "There are runes on the shaft." He looked at Legolas. "They are ancient, and I know not what they say."

Legolas took it. "I am not familiar with this dialect. It is dark and strange. But a certain phrase is familiar, and is known by the spell-casters and ancients of my kin."

"What does it say?" Estelwen asked, her eyes still fixated on the forest ground.

"The kings of men."

Aragorn held out his hand. "I am going to bring it, for we may learn more of what we are up against if someone can interpret these runes."

"No, let me," Estelwen said. She could not explain why, but she needed to discover the arrow's origin for herself, or at least take charge of solving the matter.

"There is no need, it will be safe with me," Aragorn replied.

She looked up at him. "Please."

He sighed, but handed it to her. After wiping its tip on the grass, she slid the arrow into her pack. They sent Boromir's body off in one of the wooden boats, along with his sword and dagger. Aragorn and Gimli went to see what supplies or valuables were left from the camp. Legolas started with them, but stopped. He turned to watch Estelwen.

She stood at the bank's rim, watching as Boromir's boat floated a short distance with the current before plummeting with the vast waterfall. "Why, why does death take its course so? Does it take pleasure in making everyone suffer?"

Legolas was taken aback by the bitterness in her voice. He had experienced much death in his life: of other elven warriors, of friends, and even his kin. This is different for her, for someone unfamiliar with the constant grief of war and death. "I do not know what death thinks or feels," he replied. "But it is only a transition. The dead are never truly gone, especially those we care gor. Even now, they watch over us, aiding in what ways they can."

She walked up to him, her eyes warped into a deep shade of blue. "Do you not fear death?"

It nearly caught Legolas off guard. "Not for myself."

Estelwen turned back to the river.

Legolas figured that her eyes changed color under intense emotion. The change revealed to him the intense grief Estelwen was attempting to hold back. He thought of Tauriel, how she had mourned over her Kili's death. He suddenly felt horrible for leaving her alone in her sorrow. At the time, his heart was bleeding, but hers had been torn out, ripped from her in the instant that her lover died. "Estelwen."

"What?" she said, her body unmoving.

Reaching out, he gently laid a hand on her shoulder, which was still faced towards the waterfall. "He is in better hands. Let him go."

There was something in his voice - an understanding, a feeling of what she felt - which wove straight into her faster than his gaze would. She broke down. His arms came around her, while his shirt near his chest became soaked with her tears. "I am sorry for your loss," he said gently.

Even in her grief, Estelwen noticed the extreme sensitivity that he displayed. Something in the way he said that last phrase brought a strange thought to her mind. Her loss? Did Legolas believe Boromir was hers in some way? That he pledged his heart to me, or I to him? "Legolas, he was not mine to let go."

He was suddenly filled with both a calm and a fire. From her own mouth had tumbled words that opened a door. With everything in him, he wanted to be that person, the one to walk through the door and merge his heart to hers. But it is not yet to be. She was still faced towards him, but her glossy eyes were fixated on where the boat had been. Her sorrow is too great. He gently placed a kiss on her forehead. She sniffed and leaned against him, exhausted.

Legolas stiffened, spotting movement on the other side of the river. He dashed over to the only boat left as Aragorn and Gimli joined Estelwen. "Sam and Frodo have crossed to the eastern shore!" Legolas said with alarm. Aragorn did not move. "You mean not to follow them," Legolas stopped pushing the boat.

Aragorn spoke softly. "Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands."

"Fate itself is never in our hands," Gimli grumbled.

"Maybe not that of others, but ours is always under our control," Estelwen said.

"Then the Fellowship has failed," Legolas said, downcast.

"It has not failed, though it may have had a different purpose than what we thought." Aragorn laid an arm on both Gimli and Legolas. "It has brought four of Middle Earth's fiercest warriors together, and not for a meager purpose!" Looking at them all, he continued, "We will not leave Merry and Pippin to suffer from the Dark Lord's hands. Take only the weapons you need, for we travel lightly." He slid his dagger into its sheath. "Let's hunt some orc!"

Gimli and Legolas ran to collect their weapons, empowered by Aragorn's drive and faith. Estelwen remain, gazing at Aragorn.

"Estelwen?"

A slow smile touched her lips. "I know your name."

Bewilderment showed on his face. He suddenly realized how observant she was, and that not many things could be hidden from her scrutiny.

His name flew from her lips and reached his ears.

"Estel."

At that moment, Gimli returned. Looking at where Frodo had gone, he mused, "Never has a dwarf laid eyes on a braver hobbit,"

"Neither has an elf," Legolas added, also returning.

After Estelwen fetched her elven daggers from the ruined camp, Aragorn took the lead in tracking the orcs. Estelwen smiled at her own figurative thinking. You cannot run from your destiny, Aragorn, not while you are living and breathing to protect others and strengthen their purpose!

Estelwen and Aragorn's elven name (Estel) both mean hope. Remember when Lady Galadriel said their destiny's were tied? How do you think that will happen? Any speculations?

Also, I've got to ask: man, elves, or dwarves? Your choice.

Also, a quick, huge thank you to you who are clicking that shiny golden star at the end of these chapters. You are amazing, seriously. If it weren't for you, I probably would have given up this whole re-writing process and focused all my attentions on my new novel, Scaled. I'd love to talk to you any time.

Happy reading,

Reese