Hello everyone! I hope you're all having a lovely day. Sorry it took so long to publish! This is...WAYYY longer than the last part. I'm trying to cover the relevant parts of the first movie, so...I hope I did it justice? There will definitely be a part 3 to this...and possibly a part 4. Thank you all for getting this book to over 400 reads! Thank you again to WillSpearsShake for requesting this. If you want to request a oneshot, please leave it in the comments. Hope that you enjoy part 2! Xx

"GANDALF! GANDALF!" 

(Y/N) tripped over her torn skirt, her head whirling with dizziness. She could make out the man in grey robes, who approached hastily. She felt hands grip her shoulders as her knees buckled. Her eyes trailed up, finding the face of the kind old man riddled with concern. "(Y/N), what happened? Are you hurt?"

"I d-did...something terrible, Gandalf. I don't know what h-happened, I just--"

"Ssh, now, my dear. Lets get you inside..."

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"I have no memory of this place."

The fellowship had left Rivendell behind over a week ago. They passed through the snowy pass of Caradhras, before venturing to the Mines of Moria. What they found instead, was a tomb full to the brim with skeletons. They had tried to escape- but they were unable to leave. Gandalf offered to guide them through the tunnels- it turned out that his memory was not as reliable as they had assumed. And so, the fellowship huddled upon a stone ledge, waiting as the wizard smoked a pipe of weed and contemplated.

(Y/N) sat quietly, nibbling on what little food they had left. The men kept to themselves, whilst the hobbits and the dwarf squandered over the last good meat. Legolas, the elleth, stood and paced, his eyes darting in every direction, ready if there was any trouble. The woman hugged her knees, sighing in the silence. Though they had been travelling for days, the company still acted like strangers. Very few words spoken were sincere.

Not that (Y/N) minded that. If they didn't speak about themselves, she wouldn't have to talk about her own past. Of course, Legolas's curiosity wasn't about to let that happen.

"May I ask," the elf cried, looking directly at the woman. "Were you born with your 'gift'?"

"I would not call it a gift, master elf," she replied.

"Why not? It has helped us thus far."
The woman clenched her jaw, recalling the dead man with arrows through his chest. "I think you don't understand, Legolas."

"Then please, elaborate. I'm sure the rest of the fellowship would be interested."

His eyes went over each person. The hobbits nodded sweetly, and the dwarf shrugged indifferently. The men exchanged looks, but nodded nonetheless. (Y/N) sighed, swallowing. "What is there to know? I see things in my mind and I can't control it. I was not born with it, but I developed it."

"How?"

She scoffed at the audacity of this elf. "I'd rather not make a comment on it."

"Why not, (Y/N)?" Legolas pressed. His eyes seemed sharper than previous, more calculating. If she was not mistaken, the woman even saw some malice in his eyes. She stared at him for what seemed like hours, before releasing a chuckle. "You really want to know?"

"Evidently, I'm asking."

"Why? Why this sudden interest?"

Legolas hesitated. The shadow within her dwindled now and then- but that moment, he could only feel her. The darkness of these caves were playing with his senses, but when it came to (Y/N)...it was crystal clear. Whatever darkness that had once consumed her was now all but gone.

"I...I just wonder. How a human girl is able to use such gifts."

"I wouldn't call it a gift."

"Then," the sudden voice of Borimir surprised them both. "What would you call it?"

She clenched her jaw. "A curse." Her eyes gazed down at her hands, her dirt ridden hands. Then were worn, with leathery skin and dirty fingers. Yet, somehow, they were beautiful to her. They were far better than being scrubbed with ash.

"What sort of creature curses an innocent girl?" the steward's son asked, putting a pipe between his teeth. At this point, Frodo stood to sit by Gandalf.

"Oh trust me, I am no innocent!" she cried. "I'm no monster though...so I don't know what I am. These abilities are not a choice, they were forced on me, and they're painful. The worst thing is when these visions aren't true...no. Actually, the worst thing is when they are true. It means I could've stopped it, but was too weak. Most of the time, that's the outcome."

"Do you think that will be the case with Sauron?"

She had forgotten the hobbits were there. Her heart melted at their little faces recoiling in fear. She shook her head softly, and reached to hold Sam's hand, who was rocking back and forth while hugging his knees. "No. Not necessarily. There's always hope."

"Hope is running short these days," Strider muttered from the corner, the first words he had spoken in a while. "Do you really thinking Sauron can be defeated with hope?"

"He thrives on fear and submission. His downfall has already begun, from the moment Isildur took the ring from his grasp. Without that single act, none of us would be here right now. Yes he may have failed. That only means that--"

"--we cannot?" Legolas mumbled. "Easier said than done, (Y/N)."

"I do wonder why this group is so pessimistic. We're on a suicide mission, and yet we all think that we won't win."

"It's called by realistic, lass," Gimli grumbled.

"Ah!" the soft voice of a wizard filled their ears. "It's that way."

"He's remembered!" Merry cried. He couldn't have got up any faster. The rest followed after at a slower place, their legs having fallen fast asleep. (Y/N) reached to her side, grabbing her belt and sheathed sword. Twisting it around her waist, she shuffled to her knees, awkwardly trying to get up whilst simultaneously tying her belt. She failed to shuffle to her feet, and instead sort of flopped forward. Legolas, who had turned at the sound of grunting, snickered to himself, and chose to carry on.

With a lack of help from the elf, (Y/N) eventually caught up with the rest of the fellowship. They stumbled down a steep, stone staircase, and through an archway. The darkness enveloped the room before them. The woman, despite her eyes being concealed from the truth, could feel something in the mines. Majesty, spectacle...pride. Pride that had been buried with the dwarves all those years ago. Gandalf raised his staff, and smiled. He tapped at the stone lodged at the end of it, and the silver glow flashed, slowly expanding out to touch the corners of the mines. 

"Behold! The great realm and Dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf!"

Their eyes drifted upwards, to behold the prospect. Pillars upon pillars, carved from stone and intricately carved. The walls were black and dark- each surface looked polished. The pillars seemed to go on and on for metres, an endless row into the very depths of the mines. "Well, that's an eye-opener, no mistake..." Samwise muttered. (Y/N) nodded. She heard Gimli's gasping, and looked over to him. She swore there were tears in his eyes.

Then, the dwarf's eyes darted to the side. He released something that resembled a whimper, before running off. Gandalf cried after him, but he would not stop. The dwarf burst through an old wooden door, and did not wait for the fellowship to follow him. When (Y/N) had entered the room, she found him on his knees before a stone coffin, with Khuzdal engravings upon it. Surrounding him, were skeletons that lay with swords in their necks and arrows in their rib-cages. The company silently circled around the coffin, as Gandalf muttered to himself.

"Here lies Balin, son of Fudin, Lord of Moria. He is dead, then. It's as I feared..."

The woman wiped her mouth, and looked back to the doorway. Something hovered in the shadows, and was waiting. She could feel them desperately reaching for them, but still out of grasp. "We should not linger..." she said to Aragorn and Legolas. "There is something... something waiting."

She did not get to elaborate- Gandalf began reading from a book clenched by one of the skeletons. "They have taken bridge and the second hall: we have barred the gates...but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes, drums in the deep...we cannot get out. A...a shadow moves in the darkness. Will no-one save us? They are coming."

There was a sudden crash. The fellowship turned, finding Merry alongside a headless skeleton sitting on the well. Moments later, the skeleton tipped over and down the well, pulling down a hefty chain and an old wooden bucket with it. The fellowship winced, the sounds of clatters and ricochets as they echoed through the halls. (Y/N)'s heart raced- the shadows were awoken. When silence ensued, Gandalf scolded the halfling, and slammed the book down.

Doom, boom, doom went the drums in the deep.

The fellowship shook with dread. Their fears were only confirmed by Frodo's blade glowing blue. Borimir and Aragorn began barring the door, missing the orcs' arrows by inches. Gandalf unsheathed Glamdring, and the hobbits followed suit. Gimli growled for them to come, as his mind was clouded with avenging his lost kin. (Y/N) only twirled her blade into her hand, and stood behind Borimir's shield and waited. Legolas and Aragorn had their bows at the ready. The creatures were at the door, clashing their weapons against the wood. As they made holes, Aragorn and Legolas released several arrows, leaving the orcs screeching in agony. After several tantalising moments, the door hinges gave way, and the wood crashed to the floor. A sea of orcs flooded the tomb.

(Y/N) couldn't recall exactly what had happened- she, on some occasions, had zoned out when she was amidst battle. When she took seconds to breathe, she recalled flashes of Borimir being beaten, Gandalf with his blade, and the hobbits attempting to fight against the creatures. Unfortunately, those moments were only seconds, and she was forced back into action. When she tried recalling the fight, her memory was foggy. It wasn't as if she had forgotten, it was as if...it was as if it was blocked out. 

She came to her senses when a roaring giant burst into the room- a cave troll. Her mouth dropped open, and she tried to get out of its way. But she gasped- her right foot had been gashed. (Y/N) growled, dropping to the floor. Crawling behind a pillar, she held her sword upright and waited. Orcs bumbled round the corner and tried to stab. She would swiftly parry and slice along the stomach. When the world seemed to quieten, she tore off a piece of her tunic, and wrapped it around her wound. It would have to do for now, if they were to get out of Moria.

She lifted herself up- the pain dwindled momentarily. Though it was sheer agony, she did her best to walk normally and approached the rest of the fellowship. On the floor, lay the cave troll, with three golden arrows through its head. Frodo emerged from the corner, revealing a sheen of Mithril from beneath his tunic. They could not dwell too long, however. The sounds of snarling goblins filled their ears again, and the fellowship took to running through the halls of the dwarf city. 

The goblins swarmed over the walls and ceilings, crawling like insects. They infested the entire mine, and slowly encircled the fellowship, snarling, growling, aiming the weapons with the intention to kill. (Y/N) readied her weapon, ready to battle to death. But before any one could spill anymore blood, a roar of anguish echoed through the halls. The orcs instantly scuttled away, terror in their faces. 

For a moment, they sighed in relief. Then, peril approached.

A golden, claret hue crawled its way over the halls, slowly approaching the the company. The echoing roars merged into one, singular cry of a destroyer. (Y/N) could feel this force clambering forward. It was not hungry, like most forces of darkness- it was pained. Yet that was its purpose. To be in pain, and to inflict it to all those who passed in the Mines of Moria. She could not ease it; she could only bare it. The woman stepped forward, noticing Gandalf's lowered head. Legolas stopped her, shielding her with his arm.

"What is this new devilry?" Borimir muttered, his voice on the cusp of a growl.

"...a Balrog...a demon of the ancient world," the wizard replied. (Y/N)'s eyes widened, recognising the name. Shadow and flame. Gandalf turned back to his company, his face marred with determination, and beckoned them. "Run! Quickly!"

Their feet pounded beneath the rumbling earth. The stumbled over treacherous passes, jumped off falling bridges, and found their way whilst being under fire by the orcs. (Y/N) did her best to keep each of the hobbits safe from doom, pulling them out of the arrows and keeping them from falling over edges of stone ledges. After entering through another doorway, they began to cross over a bridge of stone, without rails or a kerb. The nine of them recklessly sprinted over it, desperate to seek safety. Gandalf let them forget him, as he stopped in the middle of the bridge, and turned. The Balrog burst through the wall, flames enveloping his dark figure.

"You cannot pass!"

(Y/N) turned. Her heart stopped at the realisation of what he was doing. Unsheathing her sword, she stepped forward to mount the bridge once more. She was stopped by a hand.

"I am servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun," the wizard cried. The Balrog manifested a golden whip in his hand, slashing it against the wall- it took a step forward. Gandalf seemed unfazed. (Y/N) looked over to her side, finding Legolas. She scowled, shoving him away and approached the bridge again. This time, both Aragorn and the elf grabbed her by the arms and dragged her back. 

"Go back to the shadow!"

She couldn't watch Gandalf die like this. She couldn't be forced to watch, as if it was some sort of spectacle. "We have to go, (Y/N)," Legolas said to her calmly.

"Let go! Please!" she cried, wrenching from side to side.

"There's nothing you can do!"

"You don't know that!" Her eyes glazed, and she squeezed them shut. Gandalf had always been there for her. She couldn't just walk away. With the pommel of her sword, she hit both of the men as hard as she could. The three stumbled back, and (Y/N) struggled in their grasp, using her shoulders and elbows to wriggle free.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Gandalf's staff slammed against the bridge. There was a flash of light, and the three looked away. When they looked back, the Balrog was no where in sight. Still, something loomed over them, silent but primed. (Y/N) felt the two let go of her, accepting the false security. Though her mind warned her against it, she started to walk back onto the bridge, wanting to know for sure that Gandalf was still there. She stumbled on her injured foot, and collided to the floor. When she looked up, Gandalf was not standing- he was clinging on for dear life. 

She heard Frodo scream for him. She, out of pure shock, could not even move. Gandalf only looked on with a look of forlorn, as he groaned to keep himself up at the end of the bridge. His eyes met with (Y/N)'s; as always, she couldn't decipher his expression. But the way he was looking at her...it was like a stab to the heart. 

"Fly, you fools!"

Then, he let go. Gandalf fell willingly. He disappeared into the abyss beneath, spiralling after the flaming Balrog. Frodo screamed for the wizard, but soon his cries turned muffled and eventually diminished. (Y/N) stayed on the floor, not daring to move her eyes away from what just had happened. She wanted to see Gandalf spring back up, appear in a ball of white light, something. If she turned away, if she left these mines, she's have to accept this. She'd have to move on with her life and carry on...without Gandalf.

She was hoisted to her feet, and dragged out of the mines. In the light of day, she was blinded. As her vision adjusted, the spectacle that she had just witnessed began to sink in. She did not shake, nor did she cry out to the sky. Her face was frozen in shock, as tears swept down her cheeks. She did not look at any of them- only at the horizon before her. The world that was ahead, and those she'd left behind. She had just never thought...she'd have to leave Gandalf behind too.

A hand gently gripped her shoulder. "I wish I had the words to comfort you, (Y/N)..." Her eyes drifted over to the elf. Though she was frustrated with him, she nodded candidly.

"We could've all done something to save him."

"Against a demon of the ancient world?"

She did not answer, and snapped her head to the side. Gandalf didn't even stand a chance, what use would you be? she scolded herself. Wiping her eyes, she sniffed indignantly. 

"Fine. But why would you stop me?"

"You're a member of our fellowship, what reason shouldn't I stop you from killing yourself?"

(Y/N) huffed. Though she didn't like it, the elf was right. She shrugged at Legolas, nodding.

"Thank you, then. I know, it probably was hard for you not to run up there too."

Legolas drooped his head. "You have no idea."

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Lothlórien.

At the border, the emotion-beaten fellowship encountered the elf Haldir, who denied passage to both Frodo and (Y/N). When questioned about it, the woman did not answer. She only waited silently away from the others, trying to clear her mind. Eventually, Aragorn convinced them that the two should be allowed to enter the main city. And so, Haldir beckoned the fellowship, and they followed through the trees of gold.

Lórien was not like Rivendell. There was something far more mysterious and ethereal about these lands. Branches shaped doorways and stairways, leading them through this wondrous place, and through to the Lady of the Wood. When they appeared in a flash of white, Galadriel and Celeborn enquired after Gandalf. The fellowship did not speak, yet she seemed to see into each of their souls. (Y/N) tried listening to her words- but other words were spoken into her mind.

Welcome, (Y/N), daughter of Galahad. 

...one who has been touched by the shadow!

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The hobbits and the dwarf sat beneath a pavilion, resting from their weariness. (Y/N) sat cross legged on the grass, taking in the sights. If only all the world could be this beautiful... she thought. She looked down to her ankle, where a stinging red scar lay. The elves had healed her an hour earlier, and had told her she should rest a little, so it may fully heal. 

She looked up, sensing a figure over her- Legolas. He smiled at her, before entering the pavilion. A soft melody filled the air, as elvish voices filled their ears. "A lament for Gandalf..." the elf said, his voice mellowed by regret.

"What do they say about him?" Merry asked.

"I have not the heart to tell you. For me, the grief is still too near."

(Y/N) understood parts of the lament. Gandalf and Elrond had taught her Sindarin. She knew a little of Quenya, but she never quite learned it. The first verse was hard, since it was in the latter language. But the second, she could almost fully understand. She opened her mouth, and spoke it to the hobbits. Though grief was weighing down on her like rocks, Gandalf deserved to be known for his greatness.

Mithrandir, Mithrandir O Pilgrim Grey
No more will you wander the green fields of this earth
Your journey has ended in darkness.
The bonds cut, the spirit broken
The Great Flame of Anor has left this World 
A great light, extinguished.

The others looked at her in surprise. She looked over, with glazed eyes. "That's what it means. That was all...I could translate."

"I'm sorry, lass," Gimli said with an awkward, sad smile.

"Don't be," she sniffed. "None of us could've done anything. I just find it hard...that he's really gone. He was there when I had no one. Now, I guess...I really have no one."

"That's not true," Merry said, sitting by her side. He clapped a hand on her arm, and smiled softly. "You have eight of us. You don't need to ever be alone."

She smiled at the sweetness of the hobbit, but couldn't help but shake her head at his naivety. "Its not about being alone, Merry. But, I appreciate it." She turned to the rest of them. "I appreciate all of you." 

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(Y/N) woke from a dreamless sleep. She had slept soundly, peacefully, without her visions marring through her head. She looked over the pavilion- all of them were still asleep. Sitting up, she wondered why she did not feel fatigued. It had been years since she had slept soundly. She felt refreshed, more alive, and ready for the next day. It seemed, however, it was still dark. Stumbling out of the pavilion, she stretched. When she usually woke in the night, she had always thought how treacherous the world looked. But here, the world seemed far more alluring than it had in the day.

She began strolling through Lórien. She did not care where she went, she only walked. Her mind felt...somehow, free in these woods. She could control her riddled mind, and her accursed abilities did not seem to infringe themselves on her. A beam came upon her face, as she she found her way through the woods.

He cannot touch you here.

(Y/N) found herself facing the Lady of Lórien. Galaldriel's pale lips did not smile, but there was a hint of contentment in her face. She turned herself to the side, and glided her bare foot through the grass. "Gandalf told me of you, (Y/N)."

"What did he say?"

"All that could be said. He spoke of your troubles. Your mistakes. And your triumphs."

(Y/N) scoffed. "I've had little triumph in my life." The Lady stopped, parting her lips, perhaps out of amusement, before floating to the side.

"You were young when touched by the shadows. Your innocence saved you from being consumed. But you had a lack of control."

"What is there to control?! Him?!"

Galadriel bristled her shoulders. "Perhaps." She moved, settling at an empty bowl of silver, she placed her hands on either side, looking into it. "You are protected here in Lothlórien. He cannot touch you."

"And when I leave here?"

She looked up, her eyes empty. "He will reach you. He will not hold back. But you must endure it, and go forward."

"I know. I will. But is there not a way for me to be rid of it?"

"This gift is now a part of you as much as it is a part of him. You know that your fate is tied with the ring of power. There's nothing that can be done."

"Wait...my fate is tied with the ring?" (Y/N)'s heart pounded. So if the ring is not destroyed...what would happen?

"The ring is tied to him. You are tied to him. The shadows, though they have not enveloped you, are slowly consuming you as these months go by. These visions...I ask you not to trust all of them. Some are folly, some are true. Take care in your choices, your actions, and resist with all your might. For if the fear of him consumes you, you will be his servant, in either death or as his eternal slave."

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(Y/N) sat behind Legolas, drifting an oar through the water, as they left Lothlórien. Galadriel's words had shaken the woman to the core, and she had not been able to sleep for the rest of the night. She had long wondered if Gandalf had known of her fate- if so, why did he encourage her to join the fellowship? 

"Are you all right, (Y/N)?" Legolas kindly asked, turning his head back. "You've been quiet these last few days."

"Just...Gandalf. And everything. It's difficult to process...to accept... because I don't want it to be true. I don't want so many things to be true. Yet they are..."

Legolas reached his hand back to hold (Y/N)'s. She gaped at his back, wide-eyed, but did not speak. "I can feel it in you. Gandalf was keeping the shadow in you at bay. Now...I shall do my best to do the same." (Y/N) did not speak. She continued to row. As they left Lórien, the shadows crept in, and the light of Galadriel drifted away. 

They rode for many hours on that river, passing the great statues of Argonath. The shore was soon in sight, and they slowly stepped out of their boats and onto dry land. But as soon as the world was reaffirmed, and she stepped on solid ground, (Y/N) was struck with an agonising headache.

Borimir's 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.

When she returned to reality, her eyes drifted to the quiver of golden arrows that Legolas slipped over his shoulder. She felt her stomach lurch, and gagged on her own saliva. When she tried looking away, she found the only face she could look at was Borimir's. He looked at her with worry, but did not approach. Holding her stomach, she slipped off her bag and stumbled into the trees, not bothering to answer the cry for her name. The further she went, the louder a chant in her head grew.

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.

Crashing to her knees, she kept her head in her hands. She wept, the feeling in her stomach only sickening further. How could she know whether this sight was true or not? How could she make such a judgement? She knew Legolas had a pure heart. But Borimir? Would he die as a brother to the darkness? Would the elf be forced to kill his own for the sake of the ring-bearer? (Y/N) screamed at the heavens, as her mind twisted itself into disillusion. She couldn't be certain of anything. Even if it was with men that she trusted.

When she finally pulled herself together, she dragged herself back to shore, where she knew the fellowship would be. The woods creaked with anguish,  the crows squawked to the wind. The breeze fluttered the leaves in the air, and the brush swayed mellowly. Though it was peaceful here, it was a false pretence. (Y/N) felt the darkness calling her, like an owner to its dog. She ignored it, pressing forward to find her company. 

It called again. But it was different. It was closer...

She turned from the direction of the shore, and sprinted back into the depths of the forest. (Y/N) could feel this presence encroaching on another being. She feared...she feared she knew who it was.

But she did not reach them in time. She could just about hear voices, when a body thrashed down onto her, crushing her under its body weight. (Y/N) groaned, disoriented, before recognition swept through her eyes. The orc had his dagger raised, and aimed to lodge it into her neck. The woman managed to grab his arm, and pull herself from under him. She kicked and punched, before unsheathing her sword. As she did, the blade passed through the orc's stomach, and slit the creature into two. (Y/N) huffed, and stumbled to her feet. The roars of the creatures echoed through the trees, burning in her ears. Why can't you leave me?!  she thought in frustration, as she sprinted back through the maze of trees.

More orcs came. She swerved, smacked, sliced, again and again. Black blood splattered over her boots. She could not be swayed from her artistry- one by one, she took down each creature like they were nothing. Though the effort was taking a toll over her, she pushed on. She had to go on. She had to find Legolas. For Borimir. 

She met up with the others when a golden arrow slammed into the orc that intended to cut her down. "(Y/N)!" an elvish voice cried. "Where have you been?!" Legolas approached her with haste, patting her by the shoulder, before pressing his back against hers.

"What does it matter?" she muttered, biting her lip.

"You just left. You looked ill," he replied, sending out arrows to the orcs. "Did you have another vision?"

"Perhaps," she said between gritted teeth, as she ripped open the chest of an orc. "I did. And I will tell you of it when this is all over."

"But (Y/N)--"

"Damnit, Legolas! Leave it!"

She broke away from him, but didn't let him leave her sight. As they fought, she watched his face contort, saddened, possibly angered by how she had reacted. (Y/N), despite feeling a twinge of guilt, carried on. She may have offended the elf, but that couldn't be helped. She wondered why Legolas would aim his arrows at Borimir. Perhaps the steward's son had turned on him, and had truly been enveloped by the dark lord. She recalled several moments, in which Borimir had attempted to take the ring. But she would've been able to feel the shadows in him- there was little to none. There was only a man, drawn in by an object far beyond his power. Though there were moments that he was taken with more force, she did not suspect him to be consumed by it. Borimir wasn't strong in the least. But his good heart, his candid, caring heart kept him in the light. At least, that was what her abilities told her.

Aragorn and Gimli came into view, as they battled against the brutes. After several minutes of struggling, (Y/N)'s ears filled with a pleading echo that came from down below. 

"The horn of Gondor!"

"Borimir..." she whispered. Her eyes drifted to Legolas, as he shot another golden arrow. She followed after Strider, and shoved the elf as hard as she could. She recalled hearing a grunt, but did not turn back to see him on the ground. She chose to fight fiercer than she ever had, ripping the goblins to pieces. 

When she saw Borimir, she smiled. She looked back- Legolas was approaching. Her smile faded, and her spirit broke. Brandishing her blade, she clambered back up towards the elf. Though she did not know how the death of Borimir would come about, she didn't want to find out. She had no intention in killing Thranduil's son. At least, that's what she thought. As she approached, her will deepened- but it was not her own. She did not spin her sword with her own wrist. She did not snarl with her own mouth. She did not swing with her own arm.

"What are you doing?" The elf cried, dodging as she arced her blade.

"I'm sorry. I just...I can't watch Borimir die!" 

"So you'd rather watch me die instead?!" He swung his own blade up, throwing his bow to the floor. Their blades clashed, humming wildly. "Stop this, at once!"

"I can't, Legolas! I can't let this happen!"

The elf's eyes glinted. "You had a vision, didn't you? You...you saw Borimir die...and..." his face contorted again, distressed. (Y/N) had never seen such emotion in the eyes of an elf before. "You think I'm responsible?" He swerved and moved to the side. He did not move, he only stared. 

"You still think this is a gift?" she said, tapping the side of her head. Legolas looked at her as if she was a mad woman. "I have no control over my visions. I now have little control over myself. But it doesn't matter. All I want is Borimir to live!"

Their blades met again. "I would never harm Borimir!"

"Even if he tried to harm Frodo? Sam? Pippin? What if he tried to harm me?"

"He'd never do such a thing!"

"Even if the lust for the ring had enveloped him? Would you?"

He hesitated. "There is still no reason to attack me! You said these visions never always come true, this could be one of them."

"And how am I meant to know that?! How can I be certain it will not happen, Legolas?" She swerved his blade down, and slammed her shoulder into him. He stumbled, but regained balance. (Y/N) raised her blade up, inviting challenge when she wanted this fight to end.

"I promise you, I have no intention of harming Borimir. But right now, he is in danger. If we do not aid him now, he may be killed. Not by my arrows, but by theirs!"

(Y/N) could not mistake her own stupidity, and dropped her arm down to her side. He was right. As the pleading roar of Gondor's horn filled her ears again, she walked right past Legolas, and down to join the fight. When she saw the steward's son, relief washed over her.

Then, a black arrow soared through the air, and hit Borimir in the stomach.

She was frozen there. His will over her diminished. Her own heart shattered, and she wanted to curse herself to the sky. How dare she be so stupid. So naive. She thought she was trusting herself. (Y/N) was only trusting the darkness, believing it was the light.

Another two black arrows hit Borimir, one boring into his heart.

(Y/N) did not see the hobbits being carried away. When the goblins did trample away, she found herself running to the side of the dying man. When she looked into his eyes, she saw no darkness. He was good and great, and was dying for those he cared for. She did feel guilt in him, but he had repented in his deed. The woman only wished she had the ability to heal him. To save this man she had foolishly believed was ordained for the shadow.

"I've failed you," she whispered in tears, lowering her head. He looked at her in confusion.

"You have not," he breathed hoarsely. 

"I saw you die...and I willed it would not happen. But I saw elven arrows, not orkish! I was weak and foolish to trust anyone but the fellowship...I'm sorry, Borimir, I've failed..."

"You did not. Some fates...some cannot be stopped." Borimir reached up, holding the side of her head. His fingers were gelid, like the touch of frost on an autumn day. "You have not failed me. I know you never have. Promise me, that you will never fail them." He indicated to Aragorn, who was bloody and fatigued as he approached. The woman swallowed, but nodded.

"To my last breath, Borimir. You have my word."

She moved away, and Aragorn listened to the steward's son last words. Legolas and Gimli finally appeared, and watched solemnly. (Y/N) joined them with tears streaming down her face. With gritted teeth, she looked up to the elf she had attacked and bowed her head. "I'm sorry. You were right." She did not allow him to answer. She moved from the two, striding back towards the shore. When she found their camp, she stuffed her bag with as much supplies as she could carry, and strapped it to her back.

She couldn't face the wrath of Sauron alone. With what she had just done, she had severed all ties with the fellowship. (Y/N), without Gandalf, without the fellowship, without a sound mind, she would spiral into madness. She would either die writhing in gouts of pain, or enslaved in the shadows, to be eternally tortured. If what Galadriel said was true, wouldn't it be better if she left? If she could not resist her visions, if she was devoured by the darkness, she couldn't take the fellowship with her. She wasn't breaking her promise to Borimir then- she'd be keeping Aragorn and the rest safe by not being there. And if she was to die...she'd have to be alone.

I can't go back to Rivendell... she thought, trying to distract herself from the knot in her stomach. Perhaps...go back home? Say one last goodbye to mother. Maybe Rohan, to see father. She couldn't stop her eyes from welling up. She was saying goodbye to all these people, when she had barely lived her own life. She still felt like a child trapped in an adult's body, a puppet to the master. She was a void of undiscovered mysteries- but she had no time to discover herself. (Y/N) would die, as Gandalf and Borimir did. She thought she had years, decades. But there were only months. Crossing her arms, she heaved, trying to stop her tears from falling. 

There's no time for tears. she told herself firmly.

"(Y/N)."

Legolas stood before her, quiver and bow in hand. "Are you coming?"

She wiped her cheeks. "I didn't think you'd want me."

"We do," Aragorn smiled, striding out from behind a tree. "Legolas told us what happened. You showed tremendous strength in doing what you did. And, we understand why you didn't tell us."

"But...but I attacked you! I could've killed you."

"You've apologised. You admitted you were wrong. You've learnt from your mistake. That's all I ask for," the blonde softly said.

"One thing we need to make clear," Strider said, approaching her. "If you are to have another vision, tell us. Trust us. I know, even with Gandalf, you weren't always truthful. But for us to defeat Sauron, you must share your foresight. Share your suffering. We will all bare it with you."

(Y/N) hesitated. "I'm a danger to you all. My visions bring out the worst of me. I cannot control myself!"

"Then we will help you. But we cannot do this without you, (Y/N)," the elf smiled.

The woman sniffled. Though still struggling through the labyrinth of shadows, she took the aiding hand that would guide her to the light. 

At least then, Sauron could not touch her, and she'd die a free woman.

"Where do we go next, fellowship?" she smiled.