I slept through the entire afternoon, which naturally meant that I woke up at sundown and couldn't go back to sleep.

Cellinneth brought me some supper—more lettuce, but with chunks of egg and meat, mercifully—and when she changed my bandages, I experimentally wiggled my fingers on my right hand. My whole arm throbbed like the dickens, but I was regaining some limited mobility. So, after much arguing and pleading with my mother-hen nurse, I convinced her to bandage my shoulder and leave my arm in a simple sling so that I could move it around a bit.

That didn't keep me from being stir-crazy.

I paced the length and width of the flet until my ribs burned and I could barely breathe. Guilt over Haldir and Rùmil, and the revelations about Legolas, chewed at my mind. My heart rattled its cage, begging to be released.

I refused.

A couple hours after dark, I determined to go for a walk. Maybe cause some innocent trouble, if the opportunity arose and I felt the urge. Anything but staring at four walls that did nothing but stare back.

I walked across the room and opened the wardrobe, scowling at the two dresses within and wishing I could have my old set of black clothes. They were probably damaged beyond repair. I sighed. Even if I had them, getting them on would probably be a painful chore.

My gaze rested on a new item—lacy and white. I huffed. Couldn't I wear anything a little less gossamer here? But, I should know by now that economical and convenient weren't in the Official Lothlòrien Vocabulary.

Neither were a number of other words and phrases running through my head at the moment.

I pulled out the gauzy garment for examination. It was an evening robe, meant to be worn over a nightgown for modesty. Perfect. Well...not quite perfect. But plenty close enough. I'd learned early in life—beggars can't be choosers.

I let my arm out of its loop sling, biting my lip against the inevitable pain to come. Then I carefully pulled the sleeve up over my arm and awkwardly wrangled the robe on. After returning my arm to its sling, I stuffed my feet into my awful shoes and slipped into the night.

I walked the twisting paths of Lothlòrien aimlessly, just grateful to be out of my room. At night, the mallorn trees glowed with an ethereal silver light, keeping the dark of night in the distance at bay. And, I admit, I kept no track of the direction I wandered or the order of scenery that would guide me back to my .

At length, I stopped and glanced over my shoulder. I might as well have been transported into another dimension, I was so thoroughly lost. And there weren't any Elves wandering around at this hour, either. I sighed and shook my head at myself. The messes I get myself into.

"Nothing looks the same in hindsight, does it?"

I startled at the proximity of Galadriel's voice. My heel caught a root, and I stumbled backwards. Galadriel jumped forward, grabbing my left arm and right side, preventing me from falling. I cringed at her sudden nearness, but she calmly waited until I had regained my balance. Then she straightened and backed a step, catching my gaze. She didn't say anything, though, just looked at me.

I shifted my weight uncomfortably, breaking eye contact. "I guess you're wondering why I'm out this late."

Galadriel smiled, and her sudden beauty, paired with her elegance, was almost breathtaking. "No," she replied. "I have listened to your thoughts ever since you awoke from your rest."

I sighed. This mind-reading thing was getting melodramatic, fast.

Galadriel chuckled. "I assure you, with time it grows quite dull. My people are quite used to it." She gestured to the path before us. "Shall we walk?"

Nodding, I followed her lead. We walked in silence, finally turning onto a path made of stone, and many stairs descending. At the bottom of the stairs was a small clearing, surrounded by stone walls. A small stream of water flowed from a crack in the wall, feeding little pond. And at the center of the clearing stood an elaborately-chiseled...birdbath?

Galadriel gave a delicate laugh. Lifting a silver pitcher from the ground, she walked to the stream and filled it. "No," she said, a smile in her voice. "This is my mirror." She caught my gaze with a meaningful expression, then took the pitcher to the birdbath-mirror. Pouring the water in, she said, "Would you care to look?"

I ran my fingers through my hair, hitting a tangle almost immediately. Dwarvish hair simply wasn't meant to stay combed, I lamented with a sigh. "Sorry if I look like a troll," I said. "I did just kinda roll out of bed."

Galadriel gave another laugh as she set the pitcher down. "That is not the purpose of this mirror. The purpose of this mirror is to reveal truth—that of the past, that of the present, and sometimes, that of the future."

I swallowed hard. Foresight was tricky, and given my luck with it last time, I wanted nothing to do with it now. I cleared my throat and half-heartedly attempted a grin. "I'm not sure what's scarier, to be honest," I said, all too aware that Galadriel already knew my true reason for declining. "Whether I look in a mirror and see myself, or I look in a mirror and don't see myself."

Galadriel gazed at me, a sad smile on her lips. "A true dilemma," she said softly.

I crossed my left arm over my stomach beside my right. "Hey. Don't pick on the half-Dwarf. It's not nice."

Her smile broadened with amusement, and she said, "If you will not look, then I shall." Placing her fair hands on the sides of the birdbath-mirror, she leaned down to gaze at the water's surface. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders in golden waves, and I wished longingly that my hair were that beautiful.

A slight frown appeared between Galadriel's eyebrows, and she glanced up at me.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. The mirror was showing me, I was sure. But...what was there about me that Galadriel didn't already know?

The future.

My breath hitched as I recalled the feel of my own knife pressed to my throat. And Elrond's words.

You are a variable we cannot afford.

I had to escape. I glanced at the stairs leading out of the room, then back at Galadriel. She met my gaze, her expression serene, albeit a little concerned. Eru dammit, she probably foresaw all of this. She probably had soldiers waiting for me to bolt. There was no way out.

"Amariel," the Lady murmured, her tone soothing. She slowly moved away from the mirror, toward me. When I backed away, she halted her approach. "I would not hurt you, nor attempt to mold your fate a certain way."

I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to form a coherent plan of action.

Galadriel lowered herself to her knees. My eyes widened in disbelief as the Lady of Light knelt before me, evening our height. She reached out a delicate hand to me, and I hesitantly placed mine in hers.

Looking deep into my eyes, she said, "Elrond was wrong to treat you as he did. It is not the place of any to attempt controlling the destinies of others."

I felt the tears coming, and I gritted my teeth, refusing to cry. Eru knew I'd done enough of that in the last twenty-four hours to last a couple of years.

Galadriel ran a hand over my messy hair, her kind eyes running over me. "You have matured greatly since last you came," she murmured. "Yet, in so many ways, you are still but a child." When I didn't respond, she stood and said, "Let us sit and speak properly. There are many things I wish to discuss."

I nodded mutely and followed her to a stone bench. We sat side-by-side, and she said, "Your heart is heavy, remembering Elrond's actions."

I nodded. After all, what was there to say?

"There is no denying that my son-in-law wronged you," Galadriel said gently. "But do not be angry with him. What he did, he did for the right reasons, and no little amount of regret."

"He tried to kill me," I said bluntly.

"Yes," Galadriel replied calmly. "He did."

"Why?!" I cried.

The Lady placed her hand on my shoulder. "There are many things you do not understand—"

I huffed a sigh and looked away. Here we go again.

"—which I desire to explain to you, should you be willing to hear."

I snapped my eyes to hers. Some actual answers? Mordor, yeah.

Galadriel frowned slightly, but remained on subject. "You are one of a kind, Amariel. Elves and mortals have fallen in love before, but never before has an Elf bonded to a Dwarf. The consequences of such a union—however brief—are widespread and very far-reaching."

I shook my head. "I still don't understand."

"Arda favors you," Galadriel replied straightforwardly. I blinked, not sure if I could trust my own ears. A wide smile spread across the Lady's face, and laughing lightly, she said, "Yes! The earth itself favors your presence. Already, it has given you strength and sustenance when you need it most."

My mind whirled. It was frequently said that orcs were so vile that Arda itself despised them. But I had never stopped to consider if the opposite was possible. That, I suppose, wasn't terribly hard to comprehend.

But...me?

Galadriel's hand covered mine. "Legolas touched on something in your conversation earlier. The combined affinities of Elves and Dwarves for Arda is quite possibly the reason for the favoritism it shows you. Amariel—daughter of the earth—you have the potential to be very powerful."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. This was...unexpected. "So...can I control Arda or something?"

Galadriel's expression showed shock. "No indeed! Only Eru Illùvatar can alter Arda's path. But, as Arda's friend, you may request assistance."

I exhaled, almost missing Elrond's universal 'you don't understand'. "You said that I've already received assistance from the earth," I said, my voice weary. "When?"

"In Moria," Galadriel replied. "You would not have even regained consciousness from such a fall, had Arda not strengthened you."

I nodded slowly. It made sense...in a weird, confusing, nonsensical sort of way.

Galadriel gave a quiet laugh and gently rubbed my back. "Regardless of what Elrond saw, you were meant to join this Fellowship."

"Then why did he try to kill me?"

Galadriel looked deep into my eyes. "Because you are the Fellowship's greatest danger."