"Oh, Y/N," you moaned to yourself, back in your room, lying face down on the covers of the bed. "You're so stupid."

You remembered the flash of hurt that had flitted across Legolas's face as you pulled your arm out of his hand, and you wanted badly to go back and reverse your choice.

You rolled over onto your back, spread-eagling your limbs and staring at the ivy on the ceiling. Suddenly, you felt cold. Immensely, inhumanly cold, like something was bearing down on you and squeezing every last whisper of happiness from your mind.

You'd only felt that feeling once before, and you'd never wanted to experience it again.

"Û ..." you muttered, followed by some creative curses. "Nazgûl." No ... Black Riders.

You ran from the room, wincing as your feet scraped along the stone, ripping into your skin in thin stinging gashes. Not caring that you basically only wore Legolas's cloak, you sprinted past muttering elves, your braided hair flying behind you.

Skidding to a stop, you grasped the rail of a balcony tightly, seeing a calm river beneath you. On one side of the river were nine hooded Nazgûl. On the other ... Hasufel, Arwen's horse, carrying two cloaked figures, one of which was slumped over, appearing to be half dead. You watched in paralysing fear as the Nazgûl began to gallop on their blacker-than-night horses across the river, towards who you assumed to be Arwen.

"No, no, no, no!" you cried. You couldn't bear the thought of Arwen dying, nor any preventable loss of life.

To your relief, a massive surge of water began to crash into the small river, drowning the Nazgûl, who unleashed terrible screams as their steeds floundered and were eventually washed away.

Arwen turned Hasufel, and galloped towards the gate of Rivendell. Just before you turned to run and greet your elf-friend, four figures emerged from the tree line.

And you recognised one.

"Aragorn," you breathed, sweet relief flooding your senses as you saw your oldest friend and sword brother alive. With the knowledge that he was safe and (probably) well, you turned and ran as fast as you could to meet Arwen.

Rounding the last corner, you almost ran into something. Stopping yourself just in time, you looked up.

"Elo! Goheno- oh." You began to apologise, then stopped. Woah! Forgive- oh.

Legolas was on the receiving end of your apology.

Pain flickered in his blue eyes once more, but he ignored you, turning away and walking to greet Arwen and Aragorn.

You felt an ache too, but brushed it aside to dwell on later, instead rushing to help Arwen with a half-dead hobbit.

"Na vedui, Arwen!" you said happily. "Gi suilon!" At last, Arwen! I greet you!

Arwen smiled, though she looked confusedly at your outfit. "Gi suilon, Y/N. Wait ... is that Legolas's?" I greet you, Y/N.

"Yes," you said, slinging the hobbit over the back of Nethiel, your faithful horse who'd been brought by ... someone. "It's unimportant."

"Did something happen whilst I was gone?" Arwen raised her eyebrows. "Between you and Legolas? Because it is quite obvious that he-"

"No, nothing happened," you lied. "Just a minor accident that ended up with me in the Healers Ward in a slip so I had to steal his clothes."

Arwen blinked slowly, her face portraying a 'what the fuck' expression. You shrugged, climbing onto Nethiel yourself (with a pushup off a rock) and kicked her sides gently, leading her to the Healers Ward for the half-dead hobbit.

- - -

After dropping off Frodo to some very disgruntled Healers and a concerned wizard (who you were quite sure was the infamous Gandalf), you shooed Nethiel off in the vague direction of the stables, running back to where you'd come.

Aragorn was not there, and you couldn't find him until hours later, in a room you hadn't been in.

You saw Arwen walking away from Aragorn with the biggest smile on her face, a spring in her step. You flew towards Aragorn, landing securely in his arms as he hugged you like only he could ... like a brother. He wasn't your brother by blood, but a brother by love, soul and battle.

"Hello, little Y/N/N," he said, squeezing you tighter. "Miss me?"

You pulled back, kicking him lightly. "I am not little. But, yes, I missed you, brother."

"And I you," he said, then frowned at your attire. "Is that -?"

"Yes, it's Legolas's," you sighed. "It's a long story, don't ask me."

"Did something ... happen?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking.

You whacked him across the chest. "You and Arwen are both absolutely insufferable. Leaping to conclusions ..."

"Well, then clearly she and I are the intelligent ones," Aragorn said, his smirk still not leaving his face.

You shook your head. "Nothing happened, alright?"

For a moment you wanted to tell him that something had happened, that you couldn't get the elven Prince out of your mind, that you'd hurt him in a terrible spur-of-the-moment decision.

No, you could not. This would only weigh upon Aragorn, adding to his burden of being Isildur's heir. You wouldn't trouble anyone with your trivial problems.

Aragorn nodded, although the motion was slightly suspicious. "Alright. You might want to put on some proper clothing though - Elrond is holding a Council. You're invited."

- - -

You took his advice, taking off first Legolas's cloak (and immediately missing it. It was incredibly soft and comfortable - you couldn't fault him for wearing it) and then your slip, and changing into a white-and-blue dress with a soft corset of strings winding up your back.

Arwen came to braid your hair in a different style from the normal look - she said it was simply for the Council, though the additional braids tugged at your hair and weighed heavily. She seemed almost distraught that she was not permitted to go, but you comforted her with the comment that it was going to be all men except for you and there would therefore be a great deal of pointless arguing.

You thanked her, gathering up your skirts and running to the Council of Elrond, held in an open courtyard encircled by stone chairs.

You arrived just in time, though you winced internally as you took the last free seat ... next to Legolas Greenleaf.

Elrond commanded Frodo to bring forth the One Ring, and the formerly half-dead hobbit came obligingly, bearing a tiny golden ring that was very small for such a terrible thing.

Of course Boromir, the weaselly son of an Orc, was immediately obviously poisoned by it, suggesting that the Council 'give the Ring to Gondor' and that it 'could be used'.

"That is foolish and naive," you spat, rising from your chair, ignoring the strange look Legolas sent you. "The Ring does not listen to any but Sauron. It cannot be wielded or manipulated, it must be destroyed!"

You were about to sit back down, when Boromir said, "And no mere girl would know anything of this matter, would she? Sit down woman, this is not your place."

His words enraged you, and you went to curse at him, standing straight and taking a step towards him.

Legolas stood up, holding his arm out in front of you in a gesture that was both sweetly protective and annoyingly preventative.

"Havo dad, Y/N," he said quietly. Sit down, Y/N. You obeyed him, a scowl still fixed on your face. "Gondorian - show some respect. That is the Lady Y/N of the Dunedain people, and she is higher ranked than you. You would do well to watch your tongue."

Boromir had the decency to look ashamed as Aragorn sighed, gesturing for Legolas to stand down.

"Lady Y/N is right," Elrond said, lacing his fingers together and dropping them into his lap. "We must destroy the ring."

Then, Gimli, in all his hot-headedness, surged from his seat, axe in hand. "Then what are we waiting for?"

He brought down his axe upon the Ring, and you and Legolas both turned away in anticipation, shielding your faces.

The axe broke, shards of it flying as the Ring began to ... mutter? You hissed in pain as a shard sliced through the thin sleeve of your dress, ripping your skin in the process.

"Y/N! Are you alright?" Legolas asked in concern, reaching for the sleeve of your dress and gently rotating your arm towards him.

"I am fine," you said quietly, turning your head away.

Awkwardness rose between you and Legolas, along with a flush in your cheeks as Elrond began to speak of how the Ring could only be destroyed in the fire of Mount Doom.

"Someone must take the Ring to Mordor," he declared finally.

Gimli glared at Legolas, and probably you by extension, leaping from his seat and declaring. "I would sooner die than let the Ring be carried by some pointy-eared elf!"

Legolas and his kin rose, you standing with them, defending him with shouts directed towards the dwarves. Legolas put out his arm again as you went to step forwards, ever the peacemaker. The shouts escalated, noises ringing through Rivendell.

Your keen ears (though not Elvish) picked up a quiet cry that was almost lost in the arguing.

"I will take it!"

Silence.

"I will take it!"

Everybody quieted at this louder shout, turning to ...

"I will take the Ring to Mordor," said Frodo Baggins, trembling slightly. "I do not know the way, but I will go."

You admired his bravery, though you were saddened knowing that it was a suicide mission, looking down to him in awe and pity.

Aragorn approached him, kneeling before the small hobbit. "You have my sword, my brave friend."

You and Legolas both stepped forward at the same time.

"I will protect you with my life," you vowed, ignoring the protective look that Aragorn shot you.

"You have my bow," Legolas added.

"And my axe!" Gimli declared. You and Legolas shared a look of annoyance.

Others joined the group, including three more hobbits, Gandalf and, to your disgust, Boromir.

"It is settled," Elrond declared. "You are the Fellowship of the Ring."

Two men, an elf, four hobbits, a wizard, a dwarf and a woman.

Why did you have a feeling this wouldn't end well?

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