My forces, a contingent of thirteen galadhrim hand picked by myself and Lord Celeborn, and I were tracking down these rumours. I remember pinning the source of them... yet I cannot recall where. Nor can I recall any details of the environment I was in or even the enemy I must have met.

::::::::::
L U M O R N E L
::::::::::

The twins, I had decided, were much better than Dever.

They weren't brooding spies of gloominess—they were animated, they let me write in my journal, and they had clean bandages! Not only did Elladan had medical supplies, but he had been trained in the arts of healing. His face, however, had darkened upon hearing how I had acquired the wounds.

The uur rauko, apparently, were a plague to all parts of the land.

I needed stitches, something Elladan had to ruin his bow for. My makeshift stitches were made from the bow's string and every time we stopped to rest—I had a sinking suspicion they were only stopping because of me—he inspected me for signs of infection. Although he masked it well, the way only a healer can, I could tell he was worried. My ripped flesh wasn't healing fast enough. I had lost a lot of blood. I was exerting myself—although we all knew I had no choice but to keep moving.

But what was worrying me was the removal of the stitches. Once we reach the Western Hope... a healer would have to pull them out and replace them... I shuddered at the thought.

Not only did they care for my health, including keeping me fed, and after an argument and a threat to chase me down if I left from Elrohir, letting me sleep away from camp after our first meal, they talked to me. Like I was a normal person.

Well not normal, but not like I was a monster. Something to hiss and kick at.

They asked me questions about myself, seeming genuinely interested, and seemed to like talking to me. They shared things about them too. About their sister. Their father. Briefly on their mother. Raids they went on. A man named Estel.

I had asked about my past, if they knew me, why I don't remember anything. But they only said that, no, they did not personally know me, but heard plenty of things about me and that someone else would have to fill me in on my past. They became silent when I pushed for answers. And then, of course, Elrohir had to make some crude and corny joke, followed by a blinding grin.

Five days later, traveling at breakneck speed and moving effortlessly among the wintered trees, I felt as if I had known them for a lifetime.

"Are you sure you aren't hungry?" Elrohir said, quirking a brow. "I think you might be showing a rib or two."

I scowled while simultaneously finishing off the last of the rabbit meat. Ten minutes ago the overly fat rabbit had just finished roasting. Now, the entire poor hare resided in my stomach.

"It's not my fault this thing," I sent a harmless fuzz of white energy towards his chest, fizzingly out at contact, "makes me eat."

It was true, the more I used the thing, the hungrier I became. It was like it fed off my fuel. And after last night, when I had bolted upright from a nightmare, the fear making me practically spew the sun, I had almost depleted my light stores.

"I swear you could be pregnant," Elladan said, sauntering over to pat my belly. "I've only ever seen expecting mothers eat as much as you."

"Actually," Elrohir corrected while I glared. "Estel did consume an entire feast. After he awoke from that sleep father put him in."

"And then he vomited all over Lindir's freshly polished floors," Elladan laughed, then paused. "Maybe he was pregnant."

"Or had worms."

I stood, wiping off the rabbit grease on my pants and wincing as the stitches pulled. "I like pregnant better."

Elrohir snorted, picking up my pack and shouldering it. He had been doing that since day one—so I wouldn't have to irritate my wounds.

I carried my bow though. After having it taken at the enemy camp, I didn't part with it. I guess it was also stolen in a small mountain town, just before I took off for the Western Hope. Yet, I didn't remember that.

"You think we're getting close?" I asked after a few minutes of strolling through the mountainscape. "To the Western Hope, I mean."

Yesterday, we had crested the side of a mountain as the sun yawned and awoke from behind the horizon, lighting a valley in rosy candescence.
A narrow valley blocked off by boulders had swam in the sun's light, supposedly rumored to be the haunting grounds for travelers who were bested by the mountains.

Somewhere in that valley, where we are headed to now, hides the remnants of Middle-earth's fighters. Or not in the valley, but rather all around it.

At least that's what Elladan had said, with that sly smile touching his lips.

"We'll be there before noon." Elladan's eyes passed over my bloodied shirt, my heavy cloak, to where he knew my injuries lay.

Elrohir, though, slowed from where he scouted ahead to walk beside me.

"There are landmarks everywhere." He motioned towards a fox-sized rock, a streak of gritty red running through it.

"That rock there? Dan here once tripped over it. He wouldn't stop grumbling about his bum."

I laughed. "At least it has a memory to go along with it."

"Don't believe everything he tells you." Elladan scowled. "He's had centuries of practice fabricating stories to placate our father."

Elrohir leaned in conspiratorially, whispering just loud enough for his brother to hear. "He's only saying that because he still has the bruises to show for his little tumbled."

I raised my brows. "So you didn't make up stories to your father?"

"Well yes, I did, just as much as Elladan."

Elladan didn't mask his scowl, his eyes searching high in the trees. "We'll be crossing beneath sentries soon. Tie a scarf over your hair."

My brows furrowed, but I got to work pulling my long hair back and tying my dark scarf over my winter tresses. "Why...?"

I thought the Western Hope would be a safe place, somewhere where I could be myself without being scorned. My chest tightened.

"Not everyone knows about us bringing you in," Elrohir said, voice grave as he, too, searched the trees. Their playful demeanor started to melt away, leaving behind cautious eyes and tense limbs.

Elladan moved closer. "And those who do know think we've captured an imposter."

"What...?" Imposter?

He shook his head. "Best if someone else explained."

I turned to Elrohir, who held up his calloused hands. "Don't look at me, my lips are sealed."

I harrumphed. "Well, would they be disappointed that you got the real deal?"

"Hard to tell," Elrohir said honestly. "You've been gone—" he caught himself, "a long time without a word."

A long time... What if they throw me out? Too angry after me not coming to them sooner? Surely they'll listen to my explanation... right?

"You'll be welcome," Elladan said, his words soft but tone hard. I waited for an explanation, could almost hear the unspoken words hanging between us, but he said nothing.

With every step closer, I found myself gnawing on my cheek, wringing my hands. My palms became damp, my heart beat a little faster.

My cheeks flushed—more to blood loss than anything else and my wounds throbbed.

This is what I've been waiting for, right? Then why did I feel like running back down the mountain?

Elrohir took off, climbing a tree and bounding from limb to limb like a squirrel without warning.

"Where's he going?!" I asked, alarmed, worried he was abandoning us.

"He's scouting ahead to warn sentries of our arrival and sending one to alert Command."

But... he has my bag...

I shook my head, trying, but failing, to keep the worry about losing my journal away.

An hour later, Elrohir dropped down from a branch in an elven flurry, scaring me half to death. A flock of birds took to the air at my yelp.

"Keep your head down," he whispered, falling into step with us. "Sentries ahead not but fifty paces."

"What did you tell them?" Elladan inquired.

"That we found a woman whose family had been killed by orcs."

I pulled up short. "What?!"

His grey eyes stared daggers. "Your eyes and brows are about as recognizable as the sun and moon. Keep your head down."

He swept the trees with his eyes, then, seeing we were far enough away for whispers, continued. "The story would explain for your mourning scarf—" mourning? "—and why you are hiding your face."

Warmth tinged my cheeks. "What'd you tell the higher ups?"

"That we found Gwaraith." I sensed Elrohir's attention shift to Elladan. "The sentry I sent is giving them the code."

Elladan threaded my arm through his, as if I were leaning on him for support. Then... through the energy humming all around, heightened by my anxiety, I sensed them. A man and woman in the tree just before us. It took all I had not to glance up... to just see their eyes, their garb... members of the Western Hope.

Once we passed them, and I could no longer sense them, I deemed it safe. Yet I still didn't lift my head for fear of Elrohir glaring at me again.

"You told them you found Gwaraith but not... me?"

Elladan squeezed my arm. "It would be best to say we found the real prophecy-written in person."

I bit my cheek, unconvinced—

Elladan jerked his gaze to Elrohir. "Did you warn them not to send Legolas?"

My heart stopped.

"Yes," his brother answered. "He won't be notified."

"What?!" I froze in my tracks, meeting Elrohir's eyes. "You didn't tell him? But he's the only one who can help me—! I—I need him—!"

I broke off, my throat constricting. But—I yanked my arm from Elladan's, shoulder burning, fists clenching tight. Brilliance tingled in my palms.

"I trusted you," I said, voice deadly soft. Somehow, through days of traveling, I had come to be comfortable around the twins. A mistake.

"Lumornel." Elladan reached for me, but I evaded him.

"No," I whispered. Warmth welled in my eyes.

"Stop!" Elrohir exclaimed, holding both my arms in a vise grip. I did wriggle away—not while my wounds were still so tender. "We had to tell them to keep him away. Legolas isn't sound of mind, Lumornel, but he will be told. You will meet him. And for the love of Elbereth, keep your head down."

I gulped, weighing his words. Glancing at Elladan, I saw him nod once. Knew I had no choice but to follow the twins anyway.

Not sound of mind. Why?

So close. I'm so close to him. It doesn't matter if he isn't sane. He can still talk, right?

"Okay," I said hoarsely, allowing Elladan to take my arm. "Okay."

I wiped my eyes in a hurry, angry at myself for such a display of emotion—my hands! They still softly glowed, bright enough for Elladan and Elrohir to notice, but soft enough for sentries not to be alerted. And... Elladan still held my arm. Elrohir walked close by my side. As if my power did not worry them.

Either that or they were very good at acting.

I cast the thought from my mind, focusing on keeping my head down as the Western Hope came ever closer.

A few minutes later the trees became sparse, the pale winter sun free to shine without barren branches blocking its target. The ground's incline became ever more sharp, large rocks beginning to mix with thin trees. With winter having stripped green from mostly every tree, the scene seemed too eerie for a place containing the word 'hope'. Bare, spindly branches jutted from the ground, dark greenery shot up from between rocks and marred the soil. And a man sprung up from a boulder he was sitting on.

The twins didn't spring into action, so I held my ground. But I still tensed, hand ready to reach for a knife.

But the man seemed more stunned than fight-ready.

His shoulder-length brown hair fell in waves around his startled face, his grey eyes wide, lips parted. And those discerning eyes were staring right at me.

It seemed even with my hair covered, he recognized me—

My heart galloped, light sprung to life in my clenched fists—

His feet were moving, moving fast, and then were before me, his hands holding my shoulders in place just as I tried to step back, just as pain erupted where his hand lay. His crystal eyes searched mine, my face, for something I couldn't see. But he found it.

And engulfed me in a big, strong hug. He smelled of old leather tomes and game.

I froze, my arms paralyzed at my side.

"Aragorn," Elladan said. "She has no memory of you. Nor of any of the fellowship."

The man—Aragorn—pulled back. I gulped, my eyes still wide, biting my tongue to conceal my pain. In what way did I know this person?

His brows scrunched in concern just between his knowing eyes, as if searching for something. Waiting for me to say anything. Just moments ago there was such joy in his eyes and now...

"I... I..." Hopelessly, I looked to the twins for help.

Elrohir raised his dark brows as if saying can't you do this on your own?

His brother merely gave me a soft smile.

Fine.

I glanced back at... Aragorn, a deep sense of hopelessness and unexplainable regret pooling within my chest.

"I'm sorry," I managed to choke out, splaying out my hands. "I'm sorry, but I don't know you—or at least I don't now. I can't remember anything, anything past—"

The man shook off his initial shock, shaking his head and putting on a sad smile. "Save your breath, mellon, you'll have to repeat it to command three or more times anyway."

"While speaking over a three dozen arguments," Elrohir muttered under his breath. Aragorn chuckled, nodding in distaste, still eying me like I was some rare stone that would disappear.

Elladan's boots crunched over pebbles and coarse brush, coming to stand next to me. I couldn't help but relax, my shoulders releasing a little of their tension knowing the twins had my back. "Are they all gathered? The heads?"

Aragorn met Elladan's eyes. "Yes. And they are all fully prepared to meet with a murderer posing as the prophecy-written. As was I."

His eyes slid to mine, a spark of disbelief and joy lighting them again. His lips pinched on one side. "Legolas is unaware of the meeting, but it's only a matter of time until he hears about it."

"He must bribe the maids," Elladan said, earning a laugh from his brother.

Aragorn grinned. "I gave the maids leave for the rest of the day."

"Then we have until daybreak tomorrow," Elrohir said, battling the wind as it struggled to consume his face with his own raven hair.

"Are we going to go?" I asked, biting my cheek as Aragorn again looked at me like he knew me. Which he did... but it unnerved me to see a stranger with such recognition on their countenance. I averted my gaze, finding a particularly shiny rock with a streak of white and red to focus on...

"Might as well, those in Command are probably about to bite each others' heads off."

Elladan laughed. "Has Eomer bitten off Ditrius's head yet?"

"Surprisingly, no. I've come close a few times myself."

"I've already done so," Elrohir said smugly as he led us over and behind a mound of rocks the height of two grown men. "Many times."

From behind me, I sensed Elladan step closer to Aragorn. "She is injured, Aragorn, though she hides it well. She needs medical attention and sterile supplies."

Again, I felt those eyes on me.

"Rumours will circulate if she were sent straight to the healing wing and the old dogs in command will use whatever excuse they can to lessen my control."

"Aragorn," Elladan said, taken aback. "You are king."

I turned, taking in the stranger with wide eyes. A king.

Who was I?

"Of a broken kingdom whose king city has been overtaken and reduced to ruin by the enemy." Aragorn paused and I felt those grey eyes of his settle on me. Stop looking at me.

"I have not been crowned, not officially. And some leeway must be given to Command, after all, we are working to free the whole of middle earth and its provinces, not just Gondor. I promise you, I will send her to the finest healers and hurry along the meeting. She was—is—my friend. As long as I live, she will be."

I could see the truth, right there written on his face. And it baffled me. Someone whose face I could not remember. A loyal friend. For how long, who knows?

"You will get the proper medical attention you need," Aragorn said, intense eyes holding my gaze. "I will see to it myself."

"How long," I asked. "How long was I gone?"

Aragorn averted his eyes, but they came back to meet mine, something I was quickly learning would happen. He never backed down. Determined.

"Nine years."

I breathed in sharply, sending the world reeling, the night sky warbling.

"Lumornel?" Elrohir said, his fluid voice shocking the world around me to a halt, made everything come back to a focus.

"I'm fine," I said, shifting on feet I was somehow still standing on. "Just surprised."

Aragorn's dark brows furrowed in concern. Questions bubbled behind his grey irises but he held to his word. Despite the bitter, crisp wind biting through our clothing, he managed a warm smile.

"Command awaits you, mellon." Aragorn moved aside a tree—my eyes widened—

No, he gently moved a carefully crafted square made of pine that blended seamlessly with the three, sparse pine trees standing guard around it, revealing a dark hole in between two boulders wedged into the inclined ground. A secret entrance.

I bit my tongue to prevent a smile from creeping along my face.

Hidden camp of hope buried deep within a mountain. With a secret way in.

That's it. I'm dreaming. I'm in a book.

Valar, yes.

"You look like a nut-crazy squirrel."

"What?" I whipped my head to Elladan, feeling that cursed warmth bloom on my cheeks.

"He means," Elrohir butted in, crouching down before the cave entrance, "that you look like a squirrel who has seen her first nut after winter."

"Maybe I have," I countered, sticking my chin up, feeling my ears redden. It was enough to remind me what was at stake. What place I was about to enter.

Elrohir met my gaze, piercing into my thoughts, and nodded almost imperceptibly. And he disappeared into the mountain.

"After you," Elladan said, turning his gaze slowly across the landscape, reminding me that although we were quite literally on top of the Western Hope, we were not yet safe.

And those in the Western Hope's command were waiting for me, in the one place where my salvation lay. Although as I ducked into the damp, earthen tunnel, I felt more like I was entering a den of wolves.