Nimoë flew through the trees. The forest was crawling with orcs, but she was able to outdistance them on her lighter feet. Again Boromir’s horn sounded, more frantically this time. How could he have gotten so far away? Surely Frodo must be with him. They had to reach them before the ring could be taken from the halfling!
        “Nimrodel, stay close to me!” called Legolas, who had gained ground ahead of her. She put on a burst of speed and caught up with the fleet- footed Elf prince. Although they both were ready for an attack, the orcs seemed to be dissipating. Only a few even glanced their way, and those were quickly felled by Elf arrows.
        Legolas reached the top of a ridge, and stopped so abruptly that Nimoë ran straight into him. She recoiled off of his back, but caught her balance with the customary speed of her race. What she saw made her feel as if she wanted to sink to her knees and cry out in anguish.
        Boromir lay on the ground, his body pierced through with many orc arrows. Aragorn was knelt over him, gripping his hand, offering his strength to the dying man. Their voices were low, and she had to strain even her acute hearing to follow the conversation.
        Boromir had tried to take the ring. There was no surprise in that. Nimoë had failed in her task. The two young hobbits had been taken by orcs.
        Boromir’s face was anguished as he spoke of his failure. Aragorn did his best to reassure him. “You fought bravely. You have retained your honor.”
        “I would have followed you, my brother. My captain. My King.” Then Boromir breathed no longer.
        Gimli came up behind Nimoë, and dropped his head in deference to the passing of a brave man and true friend. Tears streaked down her face and she dashed them aside angrily. It was not the time for sorrow. It was the time for action.
        Aragorn looked up and saw the three companions watching him. He rose to face them. “We must act quickly. We have not the time, nor the tools, to properly bury Boromir. Let us set him in a boat with his weapons, and those of his vanquished foes, and deliver him to the Falls of Rauros. Then he shall make his way down the Anduin to his home in Gondor. Quickly now.”
        Broken out of the paralysis of grief, Legolas and Gimli went to aid Aragorn in lifting Boromir, while Nimoë gathered up the weapons of the orcs scattered around where Boromir had died. They went quickly to the place where they had left the boats, such a very short time before.
        The body of the son of the Steward of Gondor was laid with grave honor into a boat, and about him were the weapons of those he had slain. The four companions bent their heads in silence for a moment, then Aragorn pushed the boat out into the waters. They watched until the small craft plummeted over the roaring falls.
        All during that time, Nimoë’s mind was spinning. Her failure was complete. How was she to return to Galadriel to report that all of her magic had not been enough? Already the taint of the ring upon him had been too strong. She had proven herself unworthy of the task placed upon her, and the crushing weight of her failure threatened to bring her to her knees. Her weakness could bring about the downfall of Middle-Earth.
        Still a small voice spoke in her mind reminding her that he had not taken the ring. He had repented for what he had done, and he had bought freedom from his treason by protecting the others with his very life. He had been strong enough to master some small part of himself, and in doing so had come to an honorable end.
        Gimli’s voice broke into her thoughts as he said, “There should be another boat here. Where are Frodo and Sam?”
        Legolas looked out over the lake and saw a boat pulling up on the opposite shore. “They have left us. They have already reached the eastern shore! Hurry. We must follow them.”
        Aragorn laid his hand on Legolas’ upraised arm. “No, friend. They have chosen their path. Perhaps it may be the wisest to let them follow it. No truer friends are there than Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee. Each shall not allow the other to falter or to fail. I believe I can safely say that nothing could happen to Frodo while Sam is there with him. As to the other Hobbits, they are in the hands of the enemy. We shall not leave them to their fate. Leave behind all that is not a necessity. We shall travel lightly.”
        As Nimoë pulled items out of her sack, she thought frantically. Her failure was complete, and there was no way to undo it. Was there any way to redeem herself? Her head dropped unconsciously into her hands and she was on the brink of tears again, humiliated by her inability to perform one small task.
        While the other two were distracted by packing themselves for the journey, Legolas approached Nimoë. He laid his hand softly on her shoulder. “Nimrodel, I would speak with you.”
        Quickly she raised her head out of her hands, but kept her face lowered so that he could not see within the folds of her hood. “What is it, Master Legolas?”
        “I do not know your true name, but I know that you are not who you claim. Naldor and Glorfiane are performing studies at the request of my family. I have visited with them often. They have no son. Only a daughter. She was sent to Galadriel for teaching. A very talented girl- child I have been told. I think that her parents would not wish for harm to come to her.”
        Shock registered in Nimoë’s mind, disbelief that she had unwittingly given herself away. She backed away from Legolas, afraid of what he would do with his knowledge.
        He raised his hand to stay her flight. “It is not safe for you to return to Lothlorien. Orcs have positioned themselves between here and there. You can feel them, if you listen to the dark sensations in your mind. While our own road is surely dangerous as well, I wish you would come with us. I would not like to tell your parents that I let you face death alone.” Legolas reached out and pushed the hood of her cloak back far enough to see her tear streaked face.
        “I… I don’t know what to say. I would be a burden to you. I cannot fight. You have seen that well enough.”
        “Your training is in the peaceful arts, but I am certain that something you learned can aid us. We will be traveling far and fast.”
        Her grey eyes lit up. “I do know an enchantment which can give people stamina beyond their natural limits.”
        The smile Legolas bestowed upon her was enough to raise her spirits. “Surely we will be able to make use of that. Please come with us.”
        She nodded her head in acknowledgement. “I will.”
        Legolas gazed down at her face, which was beautiful, like all of his kindred, but instead of the cold, harsh loveliness common among them, her face was open, with large, trusting eyes and skin so pale it seemed almost translucent. So young she seemed. So young and innocent. “Nimrodel, I will keep your secret if you wish it, but please, may I know your true name?”
        A wave of shyness swept over her, and she averted her eyes from his as she replied, “My name is Nimoë.”