Thank you to WillSpearsShake for requesting this! I hope I did it justice. Some of the content of this oneshot has been partially inspired from what I remember from the LOTR books. I will try and get part 2 as soon as I can. There will probably be a part 3 to this aswell. Thank you all for reading!!!

Her eyes glazed from the blazing heat, as the crackling flames rose and enveloped the house before her. The wood grated to ash, leaving the frame of the building exposed. The only thing she could hear was the crackling embers ravenously devouring the house. For a moment, she watched, not realising the full extent of what she done- for a moment, the heat of the fire and the dancing of crimson and gold was beautiful. Then there was a shriek. A cry. Something sorrowful and crippled, that roared from under the weight of the flames.

Slowly, the deed sunk in. Despite her trying to deny it, acceptance forced itself through her skin and into her bones. The smoke began to strangle her. The fires turned malevolent. Her eyes drifted down to the fire striker and the doused torch, that still radiated with heat. Her hands, her shaking hands, were covered in ash. Warm ash, that was bearable to touch, smeared from her fingertips to her wrists. They may as well have been covered in blood for all she cared- it only confirmed she was responsible.

What was she thinking?! Was this really justified? Her heart pounded, and she shook her head fervently. Choking on the thick air, she stumbled back. Hot tears streamed down her face, as the cries from the flames increased in volume, more agonising and more horrific. She covered her mouth with her hand, not knowing how to process what she had done. A thousand thoughts ran through her head at that moment- but one screamed louder than the rest.

"I NEED TO FIND GANDALF."

She turned away from the blaze, tucking her skirt into her belt and scurrying to the stables. She reached for her mother's horse, Kinsey, and mounted the saddle. Her mind took a moment to reevaluate- but there was no other choices to consider. She had to leave her mother. She had to leave everything.

That was perhaps the scariest part of it all.

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"(Y/N)."

Her eyes opened. "Y-yes, Gandalf?"

The old wizard smiled at her, as he indicated to the road in front of him. "We're in Rivendell."

"Already!?" She sat up from the cart, and looked over the wizard's shoulder. True to his word, they truly had arrived in Imladris. A smile lighted her lips. "Do you think Elladan and Elrohir will be home?"

"Perhaps. Though, Lord Elrond said they would not be present for the council's arrival."

"Wonderful. Really Gandalf, must I be present for the council? I'm no one of particular importance, and--"

The eye of Sauron was ever watchful over the free people of middle-earth. 

The woman cringed at the flash of darkness in her mind and gripped her forehead. Gandalf immediately halted the horse, and turned to look at her, concern in his eyes. She wafted her hand up, shaking her head. "I'm fine! Don't worry yourself..."

"They are happening more often, aren't they?"

"Maybe, Gandalf..." she said through gritted teeth, squeezing her eyes shut. "Maybe. They're just...they're more vivid now. I can hear things, see things...I can feel them too."

"Are they still about what happened in the village?"

"No, no...worse. Much worse. Horrible things. Dark things."

"What things? What distresses you?"

"Gandalf," she winced, before staring up into his eyes. "I only saw a flash, but it spoke volumes. Sauron. The return of Sauron."

The fear on the old wizard's face was unmistakable. He shuffled in his seat, and reached for the reins. "Well then," he said, in a shocked tone. "You must see Lord Elrond at once."

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Weeks had passed since that first conversation with Elrond. Gandalf had disappeared, claiming he had business to attend to, leaving (Y/N) in the company of Arwen and her father. Each day that passed seemed like an eon, droning on and on, until the darkness took the sky, and she was forced to lay her head upon her pillow. Her slumber was hindered most nights. The dream of that night was replayed again and again like a broken record player. It did not stop. Most nights, she'd wake up in cold sweat. When she chose not to sleep, she'd stay up to write letters to her mother. She never intended to send them; she couldn't risk revealing herself. It was just nice, to pretend that her mother had replied, and that they had conversed over the years. To pretend her mother still loved her after what had happened.

It was around the third week, that men began to arrive in Rivendell. Lords, Kings and Princes rode in from all walks of life, from all different races, to meet with the council of Elrond. Eventually, at some point, Gandalf returned, battered and bruised. She found him at the bedside of a young hobbit, who at the time was unconscious. The wizard did not speak much, only uttering formalities and asking about her visions. When silence consumed them, (Y/N) took her leave.

Finally, it was the day of the council. (Y/N) was seated by Gandalf and the hobbit whom he was so concerned about- she had learned his name was Frodo. She was at unease upon seeing the rest of the council- it was glaringly obvious that she was the only woman there. As for why, she had no clue. As the session progressed, the company learned of the one ring, and how its destruction would be the key to winning the war. As one of the men questioned the lord, Elrond turned to face the woman.

"If we do not destroy the ring, Sauron will forge a world laden with shadow. It was foretold and seen...by (Y/N)."

The entirety of the room turned to the woman.

"A human girl?" one of the dwarve's scoffed.

"I saw Sauron in a vision," the woman announced, trying to ignore the mens' gaze. "His ever watchful eye over the free people of Middle-Earth. The world drowned in shadow. His reign touched all four corners of the earth, where he ruled supreme in the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie."

She expected more of a response when she finished. The men seemed to just stare at her, gormless. The elves to her right seemed to wear saddened expressions. The dwarves stared off in confusion. The men seemed sceptical- one of them perhaps even enraged. But none of them spoke, they only let her words flutter off in the air. 

"The seer has spoken," Gandalf huffed. "Do you have nothing to say to it?"

"What is there to say? She has spoken what we all fear," the man opposite them said, sighing into his hand. 

"Then there is only one thing we can do- try and stop it," the blonde elf said, gripping his fists tighter and tighter. His eyes looked over at (Y/N). "These visions, you say. Have they always played out? Is what you see the definite future?"

"No. Then again, I've never had a vision with such magnitude. Such weight to it. For it to happen, lots of individual, small things have to happen for it to come true. If we can stop even one of those events, we can shift the tide of this war."

 "So it is decided then. One of you must take the ring to Mordor. One of you must do this."

Again, silence consumed them. (Y/N) eyed warily at the men around her, whose eyes shifted and wavered, their gazes full of dread. One man, the son of Gondor's steward, looked up from the floor and gulped down air with an unsavoury expression. "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep and the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust." He shuffled in his chair, just the thought of it sending chills up his spine. "The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with...ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

"Have you heard nothing that Lord Elrond has said?" the blonde elf cried, gliding to his feet. His eyes darted around the council. "The ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" the dwarf said.

"And if we fail, what then? Will the girl's visions be the world we walk in!?"

Men, elves and dwarves leaped to their feet, screaming and shouting, cursing to the sky about the ring. (Y/N) stayed planted in her seat, running her hands through her (H/C) hair, trying to block out the men's voices. When Gandalf got up to diffuse the situation, her eyes caught glimpse of the poor hobbit, who's face was caked in sweat. He was grimacing, focused on the ring. The more she watched, the more she could hear it...chanting.

Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,
ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.
Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,
ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.

"I will take it!" Frodo cried. (Y/N) snapped from her daze, to find that the hobbit had bounded forward. The crowd fell silent, and looked over at the small being. "I will take the ring to Mordor," he cried with might, before recoiling, abashed. "Though, I don't know the way."

A smile grew on Gandalf's lips. "I will help you bare this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours."

"If, by my life or death, I can protect you, I will." The dark haired man said before, and strode forward, and knelt down before the hobbit. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," the blonde elf smiled.

"And my axe," the dwarf smugly said.

The man from Gondor stepped forward, in awe of this young hobbits bravery. "You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."

(Y/N) couldn't help but release a groan at the word 'Gondor'. Gandalf looked back at her, glaring at her as if he were her father.  Licking her lips, the woman nodded, before getting to her feet and stepped in front of Frodo. "It would be an honour to join you, Frodo. I will protect you with my life."

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(Y/N) played with the food in her plate with her fork- she didn't have much of an appetite. The entire council sat along a table, speaking more amiably towards one another, excluding a certain few. Gimli, one of the dwarves, was huffing about how an elf was joining the quest. The elves, though they did not gossip, seemed to stick their noses up at the smaller folk, as if they were disgusted by them. 

"(Y/N), eat something," Lord Elrond smiled. "You will need all the strength you can get for tomorrow."

"I know, my lord. Forgive me, I'm not very hungry this evening. Though, I'm sure the food is wonderful, I've lost my appetite."

"Come now. This will be the last proper meal you will have for weeks," Gandalf said as he chewed. "At least manage your vegetables."

The woman smiled. "Very well." She picked up a carrot with her fork, and popped it into her mouth. As she chewed, she glanced across the table. Everyone was speaking in hushed tones, and kept to each others races. As she swallowed, her eyes fell on the blonde elf, whom was part of the fellowship. She recalled his name was Legolas- he was the son of Thranduil of Mirkwood. He smiled politely at her, and she returned the gesture. There was something very distinct in his face, whether it was his eyes or his general expression- it made (Y/N) feel at ease. She looked down at her plate to pick up another piece.

His body lay dying next to rotten flesh of orcs, three golden arrow through his chest. He was discarded and destroyed. He was among the sea of darkness, another wheel in the machine of the shadow. He had served his purpose- as a puppet to Sauron.

(Y/N) shrieked at the sudden pain that stabbed at the back of her neck, where her spine met her skull. Her fork clattered to the floor, and her chair skidded back. When Gandalf turned to ask what had happened, she turned him away and sprinted out of the hall. The men and dwarves took not notice. But Legolas- he watched in surprise as she left. When she dissappeared from sight, the darkness in the room faded, and all that was left was the light in the hearts of those that surrounded him.

The elf prince looked over to the grey wizard, rolling his shoulders back. He did not know if Gandalf would deny him an answer, but he had to try.

"Where did a human girl get such a gift?"

Gandalf shook his head with a scowl. "That's a question for (Y/N), Legolas. Be warned, however- she does not take lightly to such questions."

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The girl stumbled down the hall and to her chambers. Not being able to hold it in any longer, she grabbed the chamber pot from beneath her bed and emptied the contents of her stomach. Leaning against the wall, she moaned, trying to clear her mind of the vision. She had felt the pain course through her, as her heart was torn open and her stomach impaled. She could feel the mans pain, as he slowly slipped into the darkness. 

The gold arrows seemed to spread a sickness through him.

Though she saw his face, she had no recollection of it. All she knew, was one man had been killed alongside orcs. He had died as a brother to those goblins. He had found himself so disillusioned, he did not know his own temperament. (Y/N) could feel the blood leave him. The coldness of his body. The emptiness in his lungs. 

There was nothing left of him but Sauron.

Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,

ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.

Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,

ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.