Since we would be passing Lothlòrien on our way to Erebor, I figured Dwalin wouldn't mind a quick visit with Galadriel so I could drop off Haldir's weapons and demand why in Mordor she'd directed Dwalin to me. And more importantly: why she'd sent Haldir into harm's way.

Dwalin didn't fancy the idea.

"Have you gone daft?" he snapped when I brought it up.

"Was I ever not?" I grumbled, recalling all too quickly how many degrading titles Dwalin had assigned to me in my youth. Well, earlier in my youth.

"Bloody excellent point," Dwalin conceeded, his tone biting.

"It won't be a long visit," I promised, trying to ignore the sting of his words. "I just need to talk to Galadriel for a few minutes."

"And how do you know she won't make you set up an appointment and wait for a few years? Elves love making 'lesser' people wait."

I ignored the last comment. "Because she knows I'm coming," I stated matter-of-factly. Dwalin scoffed, and I added, "You don't have to come in. Stay at the boarder, and I'll rejoin you when I'm done talking with her."

Dwalin muttered something under his breath that I couldn't quite hear, but if I had to guess, it was probably something along the lines of how my Elvish blood was smothering my common Dwarvish sense and addling my brain.

I, however, took this as a victory. He hadn't threatened to turn me over his knee and/or whip me senseless. I concluded that time had done me many favors, and him none at all.

So the next day, when we reached the edge of Lothlòrien, Dwalin stopped his pony. I guided my steed to the packhorse and took Haldir's bow and sword, then trotted toward the woods without a backward glance.

"Don't dilly-dally," Dwalin called after me.

As I moved between the trees, they began whispering amongst each other. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I could hear a mournful melody sifting through the branches far above. A lament for Haldir, as well as his fallen comrades.

"You have come with a great burden on your heart," Galadriel murmured in my mind.

"And many things to say to you," I replied grimly. "And while you probably already know what I'm going to say, I would like to say it anyway. In person."

"I will not deny you the right," Galadriel answered softly. "I am on my throne, with Celeborn. Come, and we will speak face to face."

"Thank you."

I urged my horse into a canter, pressing through the somewhat-familiar paths of Lothlòrien. There were few Elves out and about; those that were gave me questioning looks as I passed. I ignored them.

It wasn't hard to find Galadriel's throne, stationed in the heart of Lothlòrien and at the center of attention. And it wasn't hard to see why. The Lord and Lady of Light spoke with various Elves, seemingly eager to help solve whatever problems plagued their people.

As I drew near, Galadriel's eyes lifted to meet mine. She gave a polite farewell to those she had been speaking with, then she glanced over at Celeborn. He gave a nearly-indecipherable nod and stood, beckoning the others to come with him. Soon, Galadriel and I were alone.

I dismounted, leaving the horse to its own devices and carrying Haldir's weapons to the platform Galadriel stood on. After jogging up the steps to her, I unceremoniously handed her the sword and longbow.

Galadriel took the weapons, not saying anything or even bothering to look at me. With startling ease, she lifted the sword to examine characters etched into the blade. The Lady's eyes deliberately shifted to me.

"What have you come to say, Amariel, daughter of Kili, daughter of Tauriel?"

I ground my teeth together and looked away, bitterness surging through my veins. "Why?"

Galadriel's tone was a tad softer this time. "Which 'why' shall I answer first?"

"Why did you send Dwalin after me?" I asked, my voice now just above a whisper.

A pause. "I thought that would have been obvious, by now."

I scoffed. "Sorry, I'm half—" I paused to remember whose company I was in, "—Dwarf. So forgive me if I'm borderline stupid."

Galadriel set the weapons aside. "I sent Dwalin after you, so that you would return to Erebor and take up your crown. Should Thorin Stonehelm take by force what is yours by birthright, Erebor will fall."

I was quiet for a moment. "And if I claim the crown...it won't?" I looked up at Galadriel. Her bright blue eyes cut into mine, seeing into the very depths of my mind and soul. My doubts and fears, the insecurity, every emotional wound and scar.

"The future is not determined until it is in the past," Galadriel answered softly.

I gave a disgusted sigh and ripped my eyes away from hers. "That doesn't help me in the least."

"Regardless of Erebor's fate," Galadriel said, "you made the correct decision. As a result of this separation, all will fare better."

I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth against the tears of hopelessness rising. The time for tears was over; it was time for me to be strong and stand on my own two feet.

"And what of Haldir?" I asked, my tone emotionless. "Why would you send him—and a whole army of Elves!—into a hopeless battle?"

"I have three reasons," Galadriel said quietly. "None of which you will appreciate."

"I would like to hear them anyway," I replied.

"Very well. The first is, had I not sent the Galadhrim, you would have died. You, and all your companions. Ultimately, the free peoples of Arda would stand no chance of success against Sauron's consuming evil."

I looked down, ashamed of what I was about to say but deciding to say it anyway. "Could Haldir have not remained here, though? With his wife—" I suddenly looked back up at Galadriel. "Who you presented to him!" I cried angrily.

She nodded once, not denying her actions. "The second reason is, had Haldir not gone, he would not have apologized to you, nor would he have given you council regarding your relationship with Legolas."

"So this is just a big plot to make me go back to Erebor!?"

"If that is how you prefer to view it," Galadriel said softly.

I sighed, looking away. "There was a third reason?" I asked sullenly.

"Haldir wanted to go." At my questioning glance, she said, "It was ever his fate to die in this war, Amariel. I warned him of the danger, but he felt obligated to see you at least once more. To apologize for his behavior toward you."

My hands curled into fists. "What about his wife? Why would you find him someone to marry when he was destined to die?"

"He was heartbroken. In no small part because of you."

I flinched, too ashamed to speak at first. Then I murmured, "What about his wife?"

Galadriel laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. "She was in desperate need to love someone, and to be loved. She fit Haldir so well, I could not bring myself to separate them."

"Did you at least warn her of Haldir's coming death?" I asked softly.

"No," Galadriel admitted.

"Why not!?" I exclaimed.

"Because I did not want them to spend the entirety of their marriage wondering which moment would be their last," Galadriel said firmly.

I hated to admit it, but she had a point. "So what now?" I asked.

"She will remain in Arda for a time. Then she will sail to Valinor, to find peace and comfort."

"And the child?" I looked up at Galadriel, an angry flush crawling up my neck. "I know what it's like to grow up with a dead father and an absent mother. It's not a fate I would wish on anyone."

Galadriel nodded. "I was planning to leave these shores soon, but in light of these events, my husband and I will remain for a time. We will raise the child."

I looked away. I didn't necessarily agree with what Galadriel had done, but she'd at least thought it out and taken responsibility. "Well," I said quietly, "I guess there's nothing else to say."

"Amariel..." Galadriel's voice was soft. "Would you like to present Haldir's wife his sword? As queen, that will soon be your responsibility within your own kingdom. The practice may benefit you."

"The less practice I get in that area, the better," I answered honestly.

Galadriel nodded sadly. "I understand. In that case, you have a very impatient Dwarf awaiting your return, and I have a widow to comfort."

I nodded back. "Yeah...you're right." I met her gaze. "I don't agree with what you did. But, I can accept it."

She gave me a sad smile and a brief hug. "That is all I can ask. May peace and happiness find you on this path you've chosen, and may you be the best ruler Erebor has yet seen."

I blinked back tears, ducking my head. "Thank you. But before I go, there's just one more thing I'd like to ask."

"Alright."

"You said everyone would fare better as a result of my separation from Legolas." My voice cracked at his name, but I forced myself to continue speaking. "Will I ever see him again?"

Galadriel's soft hand cupped my cheek, and she lifted my head to meet her gaze. "Your future is hard to see, harder still to understand. I can promise little, but your fate is irreversibly tied to the prince's. No matter what happens, you will see him again, and in no small way."

I nodded again. "Thank you, again. Now, I have a throne to claim."

Galadriel smiled at me. "Farewell, Amariel. Until our next meeting." I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard a haunting note in her tone.

I flashed her an uneasy smile, then took my leave. I found my horse nibbling on some grass just off the path, and I mounted up. With a light kick, I urged the animal into a canter, and headed back to meet Dwalin.

The ride went quickly, and soon I found him sitting at the base of a tree, smoking his pipe, his pony and the pack horse tied a little ways away. He looked up at me in surprise, then stood and stuffed his pipe into the saddle bag. "You went faster than I expected," he said gruffly.

I thrill of satisfaction ran through me, but I refrained from responding. Sarcastic comments were also something I would have to put behind me, or at least learn to control.

Dwalin quickly mounted his pony and grabbed the pack horse's lead rope, and we turned west.

We crossed the Anduin with little trouble. Dwalin wasn't quite as good a swimmer as his little pony, and but luckily he was about as easily swept away by the river as a block of gold, so I was able to catch him and drag him to shore. Fortunately or unfortunately; I wasn't entirely sure which.

We entered the Brown Lands, a seemingly-eternal plane of nothing but lifeless dirt. Dwalin informed me it was only a half-day trek across the nothingness, assuring me that it was well worth avoiding the Wood Elves. Thus we skirted around the edge of Mirkwood and turned north, maintaining a solid half-mile between us and the forest. More than once, I caught myself gazing off toward Mirkwood. Thinking about Legolas. Thinking about the infamous King Thranduil. And wondering.