A/N: The original story, Shadowed Exiles, was deleted months ago. This means that Chapter One is a repost and Chapter Two, posted in conjunction straight after, contains the new material. If you've already read the first part you might like to go straight to chap two. Anonymous reviews are welcomed.

Elven Homecomings

Chapter One - First Meetings

There was something uncomfortable about the way she was positioned and, only half awake, she tried to figure out what it was. Her body did not feel right and something tickled furiously at her wrists. Fuzzy and annoying. She tried to move position but could not. The pleasant dream she was having began to fade out as she realised her face felt so hot, too hot, and she wondered briefly where she was. She yanked her arms in annoyance before realising they were held in place. Her eyes slowly and unwillingly opened, banishing the last of her dream, and her entire body groaned in a kind of unfamiliar pain as she swivelled and twisted. She was tied up! Her aching arms and sore wrists were pinning her unceremoniously to the trunk of a tree, and as she tried to swallow in reaction and alarm, her throat told her of it's burning thirst. Her whole self felt wretched, and sun mercilessly beat down upon her unprotected skin. She struggled at first, almost involuntarily, but to no avail. She remembered how she must have wound up here. She remembered the trolls.

Her first thoughts went to the small group of people she had been travelling cross-country with. Were they all right? Since the war in Middle Earth had been over for a year now, many had become bold, and roads between hamlets had begun to open again as the threat of violence had decreased.

Annabelle and some others had thought it okay to travel through their own country. Had it not been a year since the orcs, afraid and beaten in the war, once again masterless, had fled the land, leaving it free for the race of man to go about their business. Apparently all was not as safe as many would believe. Some foul threat still lingered in the once tranquil land of Goldacres, and one thing she knew for sure, trolls were still abroad.

In a world where many learned the art of combat, with sword and knife, Annabelle was as helpless as a newborn kitten. She had no need of fighting and no interest in it. She had always been protected by her many brothers. Although mainly farmers of the land, they knew enough of combat and could protect themselves when needed. With a sinking feeling, Annabelle realised she did not even carry a knife, not even a small one. Suddenly she felt foolish, travelling across the countryside without even the protection of her family, on an errand to visit relatives, as though all were sunny again in the world, and over every hill were candy vendors waiting to hand out sweets! Sweat trickled down her face, bringing her back to the present. She did not clearly know what it was that trolls did to their victims. Did they eat them? Or would they take her to present to some greater evil yet? She could not guess.

She began to tremble as it sunk in that she was all alone. She tried to look around her to take in her surrounds. She was tied to a tree, and not far from it was the remains of a fire, and broken blackened wood lay scattered there as though some giant foot had kicked the fire over, stamping it out in haste.

Large boulders, two of them, were at the edge of the sooty earth. Drag marks behind them showed that they had been recently pulled across the earth, but these rocks were huge! What they must have weighed she didn't know. Her breath quickened in alarm as her eyes gazed at the stones, moved so effortlessly. Her mind tried to remember what had happened to her, to her party, but for some reason it made her break out in a sweat. There would be time enough for that later. Right now she had to free herself, or end up as a main course with the setting of the sun. She began to struggle vainly, but she was tied tight. Fear began to kick in. She did not know what she could do.

A few timeless minutes passed, just enough for her to overdose on building fear and let despair creep in like a thief in the night. She could hear an approach so clumsy through the dry underbush, that it could only be her captors. They were getting closer and she could only begin to flinch in sorry anticipation of her doom, cowering like the helpless maiden that she was.

The tops of their heads became visible above some tall trees, for these beasts were over ten feet tall. Like a pathetic insect she began to struggle uselessly against her binds, the pain of her wrists momentarily ignored as the thumping giants neared and tears began to find their way out of the sides of her eyes. Furious that her fate would end like this, she stopped struggling as the trolls rounded the last of the trees, entering the clearing, and she thought that this was what it felt like to prepare inwardly to die. Numbly she saw that they had blades tied to their belts. She squeezed her eyes shut as the stinking beasts looked upon her and smiled goofily, but eagerly nonetheless. Trolls were not smart, but what they lacked in brains they made up for in brawn.

"Ahh, the waif awakes," one of them spoke, the nearer and uglier of them. Bits of drool hung on its lips, which it now turned into a mean smile. "Pretty aren't we? And young. Weren't you foolish to be wandering around these lands as though you owned them, eh?"

The second troll caught up and stood with its friend. Its nostrils flared as though it were taking her scent.

Annabelle could not even swallow at this point, although her throat moved convulsively, and she knew that she could not even speak to defend herself or give dignity to her last moments. She prayed they would not toy with her but make it fast. Her eyes were mostly closed.

The nearer of the trolls reached out with its meaty hand, its palm easily as big as her entire head, and she shivered in disgust. But it did not get far. Just then a whistling through the air, which she felt gently as a stirring of air against her face, alerted her to a change. There was a small, dull thud, then another, then another.

At first she had thought that this was the sound of arrows through the air, but there were so many of them in such quick succession that it would take at least five, or more, archers to produce this, and she knew there was not cover for that many. Besides, who was there out here to defend a poor maiden, clearly off the road and out of any reach of safety?

Peeking open one eye to look, she saw in wonder the first troll, followed by the second, fall forward onto the earth, each with at least seven arrows protruding from their backs and neck. This was a miracle, and were it not for the rope holding her upright, she would have fallen on top of the giant bodies before her in pure relief and exhaustion. Instead, she merely sagged heavily, moaning slightly as the rope dug deeper into raw wrists, and nearly passed-out.

Out of the trees stepped one archer then, not five, not ten, only the one tall, slight figure dressed in green leggings and brown tunic. Long blonde hair flowed freely around his pale face and strong shoulders, and a travel cape was thrown carelessly back over his shoulders to reveal the arrows slung on his back. The bow he dropped unnoticed on the ground as he hastened over to the tied maiden, whose head had lulled forward, and low moans were all that she muttered.

"Are you okay?" he asked of her quickly. His hand came up to check her pulse, and satisfied that it was strong, he quickly reached up to her bound hands, knife coming from out of his sheath. He cut the ropes then, gently lowering the girl into his arms and carrying her a small way away from the fallen trolls and their stench.

He noted that she was human, and he wondered briefly where her companions could be. Had they abandoned her when the trolls attacked, he wondered. He had spied the trolls seemingly following a trail along the main road, and then seen them give up and head into the brush. Curious by this odd behaviour, he had surreptitiously followed, and how glad he was that he did. This poor human girl would be dead by now if he did not. She stirred beneath him on the ground. Ah good, she was coming to.

"Would you like some water?" he asked anxiously, holding his waterskin ready for her to quench her thirst.

Her dark blonde head reached up and she took a sip from the skin, and very slowly swallowed, wincing as though it were painful, then she tried to lie down again, as if she just wanted to go to sleep, which she probably did.

"No," the elf protested softly. "Can you walk? Or shall I carry you, for we must away from here this moment." He pointed elegantly at the trolls to make his point. Who knew if there were more of the rotten beasts around.

Her eyes fluttered open, liquid blue eyes, and she stared without comprehension into his own blue eyes. "Wha..?" She said. "Mm. Water. Please." She took another sip and rested back again to gaze at him.

Who was he, and more importantly, was he safe?

He looked a whole lot better than the trolls, but who knew what danger she might still be in. He had such a queer look to him, otherworldly almost, and the expression on his face was one she couldn't immediately recognise.

He nodded to himself then, and frowned slightly. She spoke the language of men, but not the Standard Tongue. He could speak elvish, dwarvish and some bits of orcish, and of course the Standard Tongue of the men, but her dialogue was unfamiliar to him. This would make things a lot harder if he had to get her home again, or into some kind of safety. And he didn't particularly wish to be slowed down either. The girl seemed to catch his troubled expression and asked him no doubt what was wrong.

"Do you not speak elvish, my lady?" he asked.

She took longer to realise what was going on. She kept speaking her tongue, regardless. Patiently he waited for the penny to drop.

Fear began to show again on the young woman's face as she realised they couldn't communicate properly. "Why do you not understand me?" she asked shakily.

What man did not speak her own language, unless it be someone from the other end of the earth, some heathen perhaps, or a new enemy looking to conquer this land in these uncertain times. She began to cringe away from him again, the waterskin forgotten.

Sighing to himself, the elf leaned forward and moved his blonde hair away from his ears, revealing their pointy tips, and he smiled kindly.

"I am of the elven, my lady, and that is why you cannot understand me. Let me introduce myself, I am Legolas of Mirkwood, at your service." Pointing to himself he repeated "Legolas" and smiled encouragingly.

But rather than make her comforted, she seemed to grow more alarmed. What was this man with the pointy ears, was it some kind of deformity? What did any of this mean? Suddenly, she felt irresistibly tired. Once today she had already prepared herself to die, she supposed if this Legolas was going to kill her, or spirit her away to a fate of harsh slavery, he had better get on with it then or let her rest, because she just didn't care any more.

Closing her eyes, she tried to show him she wanted to look at him no more. He whispered some things, but she was unwilling to cooperate, or try to fathom what it was he wanted. She couldn't help him anyway. Better he just leave her here to die. Since she was already half-dead, to her melodramatic way of reasoning, it wouldn't take all that long then would it? He could just go if he wanted, she didn't care.

The young elf was slightly vexed by this problem. The girl needed some medical attention but was unwilling to show him what she needed. Her wrists needed attending to, but was she injured anywhere else? Since there was no blood evident, he supposed she would live. But what to do with her, he wondered.

He doubted he would move her far this day. Perhaps on the morrow she would be alert enough to show him whether north or south along the road she had travelled from. He supposed it was his duty to return her to her own kind, before he must away again on his own errand. It was a bit of a nuisance, all of this, but regardless he set about getting ready to clean and bind her wounds, taking out a small jar of ointment, and knew that they would have to camp in or close to this clearing, at least for now. The poor girl seemed too afraid to cooperate, and in that state he knew there was not much he could do for her until she came to her senses.

When Annabelle woke up in the early evening, it took her a minute before all of the days events came rushing back to her. She still could not remember the original troll attack on her party. Luckily there was no one whom she knew personally, they were merely travelling in numbers for the sake of safety. So much for that. It seemed the rest of them escaped all except for her. Luckily that strange man had come along to save her.

Propping herself up on her elbow, she saw that she was in a newly made camp, without fire, but at least there were no trolls here, and no reminder of her trauma.

The Legolas person was sitting with his back facing her, whittling at something, and did not see her awaken.

He was not really like any other man she had ever known. Firstly, and most notably, he wasn't hairy. Most men she knew sported facial hair, sometimes a lot of it, but fair he was, there seemed no hint. And there was something else almost inhuman about him, an elegance and grace that usually belonged solely to the fairer sex. Of course there were those strange ears of his. She didn't know why he had shown them to her or what they were supposed to explain. Some creatures she knew did have pointed ears, like sprites, but a fully grown man….if man he was! She began to wonder, yet knowing at the same time it was impossible! Unless he was a mythical "elven", but everyone knew those were just fairly tales, the legend of the elves. Had she somehow wandered into an enchanted part of the land, trapped, never to return to the real world?

A more sensible part of her brain realised that she hadn't introduced herself to him yet. She noticed that he had set her wrist wounds to right with bandages, and of this she was very grateful. She had not expected such kindness all of a sudden out here in the wild. She cleared her throat delicately to catch his attention, and when he turned, she pointed to herself.

"Annabelle. I am Annabelle. Pleased to meet you and… thank you for saving my life."

He quietly watched her and then smiled. "Annabelle?" he repeated softly. "That is a nice name. In elvish, we have a name like that, it is Aniel."

She looked at him quizzically.

"Can I call you Aniel?" he asked.

She kind of shrugged and smiled. He supposed that would mean yes.

It seemed a shame that they could not communicate on a basic level. Maybe this Annabelle could teach him a little of her unique dialogue so that they could communicate better, even if it was just for one or two days. He was a very fast learner. But he did not want to push her in any way, unsure was he of her reaction to anything he might do.

And she did still seem afraid of him, he could see a trace of it in her eyes, in her manner, everything about her screamed confusion. He supposed she was a country girl, a human who was unwise and untrained about things in the wider world. This was very different from where Legolas, a battle-hardened warrior, and major player in the destruction of the One Ring, was coming from. Legolas was Prince of Mirkwood, Son of Thandruil, tutored in the ways of royalty and leadership. He thought that they would probably have very little in common. He wanted to put her mind at rest so that she would not make things more difficult than need be. But how to make her trust him, that was the challenge.

He decided it would be best not to leave the girl alone in the camp, considering her state of mind, so he decided not to hunt for dinner that evening, like he usually did when travelling. Instead, he took his sack and brought out a package wrapped in leaves. Lembas, the elvish bread; he had plenty enough for both of them, and enough water too. This would have to all change by the next day, though, because Legolas was not out roving the countryside for kicks. He had an important task to complete, and he was not going to be slowed down. He knew he would have to find this girl's home, or others of her kind, or else she would have to travel with him. Unwrapping the leaves, he took out a thin slice of the bread and tried to catch Annabelle's attention so he could pass it to her. She was sitting with her knees propped up and her chin resting on them, her eyes very distant and slightly unfocussed.

"Aniel," he called to her softly. "Look, I have some food for you. Are you hungry?"

At first she did not respond, but after he waved the bread about for a bit, she seemed to notice the movement and finally her eyes turned in his direction and recognition lighted them.

Legolas made a motion as if he were eating the bread, and then rubbed his stomach. He tried to pass it to her again.

"For me?" Annabelle uttered.

She reached over the small distance between them and took the Lembas and began nibbling on it. No doubt she had never tasted elven fare before, but she didn't comment or even seem to notice what it was she consumed. Her eyes had taken on the distant cast again and she stared ahead of her somewhere in the middle distance. Legolas only sighed and took out some bread of his own and began to chew.

He knew he would be able to get her home again and all would be all right in the end. He would just have to wait for tomorrow to make it right. He set about making sure his steed Arod was watered and taken care of, and then they settled in for a night together. Annabelle fell asleep on top of Legolas' own bedroll, and he sat and stared for a long time into the darkness, listening to the telltale noises of the night, pondering what best action he could make on the next day.

The next day Legolas awoke early, as is the manner of elves, and not long after, Annabelle stirred and opened her eyes.

She seemed to remember immediately where she was and with whom. The two travellers smiled to each other haltingly as a greeting, and the girl seemed to understand that they would need to get moving immediately. After consuming some more lembas, Legolas led her and Arod away from their makeshift camp and back up the rise towards the road that Annabelle had undoubtably been travelling on at the time her party had been waylaid.

When he reached the road, he looked at her expectantly. Pointing one way he said "east" and the other he showed was "west". He watched her but her face remained blank. Catching her attention he made an exaggerated shrug and pointed down both paths. He looked pointedly at her.

A little downcast that she could not provide what he wanted to know, Annabelle shrugged back. Her brow creased with concentration as she gazed both ways, looking for signs in her mind, some kind of memory of which way she had travelled, but she was lost.

Legolas was nonplussed. He just watched her, not knowing what to do next. Maybe he was too hasty when he killed the trolls the day before. Questioning them would have come in more than a little handy after all.

Sitting down on the road, head in his hands, he tried to work out what to do. He wished he had Aragorn with him, or one of his other party. They were all human and would know more about this land than he, and know how to communicate with her, how to help her.

Legolas glanced east, the direction she probably had travelled from. It was just no good. He had already been that way for several days on his survey, and he had not encountered any settlements. He did not particularly wish to retrace his steps again, especially when he could not be sure. He just did not have the time. He decided that the girl would just have to come with him for a while until he could reach a settlement westwards, like Wickerwood for example, where he could drop her off with others who could actually help her. He had saved her life after all, and he felt that his responsibility to her did not extend much past that.

Getting up again, he passed by Annabelle and hoisted himself lightly upon Arod's sturdy back. Reaching an arm out to her, he then helped lift her onto the steed behind him. Then they took off west at a hurried, though not too speedy, pace. Legolas was slightly surprised that Annabelle did not seem to mind, did not question where they were going, did not resist, but nor did she show any kind of cooperation either. She just did what he asked. It was almost like she did not care. He wondered about that briefly, but then was again thinking ahead to the report he would make to the rest of his team when he got back to base camp, and wondering too what news of the land they had to give in return.

For several days the weather remained fine, and Legolas, in the company of Annabelle, travelled westwards, towards the Bay of Belfalas, far south in Gondor, south in fact of Mordor where the great darkness had been defeated. Though not so far as to be in the unknown lands of Far Harad.

Legolas contemplated how man was spreading throughout Middle Earth in a way that elves never did. Whilst elven folk preferred wooded land, preferring the safety and beauty of trees, within which they would build their flets, man could and did settle anywhere. And even though men did not live for very many years comparatively speaking, still they procreated in a way the elves, who were immortal, never could.

Legolas felt it was of no surprise at all the number of new townships that were springing up in lands hardly even detailed upon the maps in the halls of learning. Such maps of these lands were never terribly detailed because no one lived here, not hobbit, not dwarf, not orc nor wizard. But man, the intrepid explorer, the desirer of everything new, went where he pleased and, he settled.

He did not care if his town was outlined on an old, dusty map in the halls of Rivendell, or whether it was sung about in the ballads of old. He merely searched for a place to stake as his, one where crops would grow, the sun shine, and children play and grow. And this is just what he had been doing, even as Sauron's evil eye had cast itself north and west. Had Sauron ever looked south? Had he cared? There were no armies in the southern most part of Gondor, so there was no need to ever conquer this barren place. But it was useful to know what did dwell here.

This was the task that Legolas was a part of, gathering information on the lay of the land, the way that the great War had changed it, altering who lived there and what they did. Perhaps, Legolas surmised, this area was the least touched of all of Middle Earth, well that and also The Shire, which was furthermost from Mordor as you could get and still be on the map itself.

It was irritating to him that he did not know where many of these little populations had sprung up over the years, and that he had possibly missed one, probably several, on his quick journey here. It was known that people this far south did speak a different dialect, so that was no great surprise, however the people of Wickerwood, the township where they were headed, spoke the Standard Tongue in order to trade with the rest of Gondor. He would need to question them when he was there to find out about the other settlements further south, and to get a map of them! He did not think that Aniel could draw him one if he asked. If nothing else, at least he had learned that there was a surprising amount of life taking place here, trolls included, and that more surveying would be needed to record exactly what was here.

Taking the Harad Road west, or an extension of it, they travelled for three days. Annabelle was mostly silent, and fearful to begin with. She had a feeling that they were travelling further and further away from the heartland that was her only known home. She had taken to glancing fearfully over her left shoulder as they rode, wondering sometimes if she was being kidnapped, if she would ever return to anything familiar, and what would generally become of her.

It was not that she was leaving behind a fulfilling life at home though, or even a young man to whom she was attached. There had been none of that back at Goldacres. That was one of the main reasons in the first place that she had desired the freedom and the unknown of travelling to Breezebrook, where her relatives lived, to stay with them for a while.

The truth was, she was lonely back at the home of her birth. The town was only so large, and there were only so many eligible men who lived there. Her four brothers were married and had farms of their own, and her parents were well equipped to look after themselves, leaving her feeling like a third wheel at home. She desired change. She had longed for new surroundings and new people, and something else she could not even name. Now she felt like she had gained some of those things, but at the price of not knowing if she was safe or what her future would be. It was almost all occurring to her as if in a dream. She was not taking it all in very well.

The ride behind Legolas on his fine horse was pleasant, and somehow even comforting. But her mind was far from at ease, and she did not know what existed within the lands they were now traversing, because she was sure they had left behind her province altogether. All of this caused her to act a tad fearful, suspicious and jumpy. She did not know what to make of this elf-man either, if indeed that was what he was. She tried to remember the stories she had been told of elves when she was a child. This is what she knew:

Elves were immortal beings of sensitised natures in all ways. Their hearing was so keen they could hear a small branch fall a league away. Their eyesight so brilliant that they could watch the eagles soar at heights where no other could discern a living thing. Their stamina meant they could toil well past the time an ordinary man would be exhausted. Elves did not even sweat. They could withstand the elements so much longer than man. Their strength, even though their forms be lithe and slim, was beyond what many men possessed. Their fierceness in battle was unrivalled. And the list simply went on and on.

Perhaps most significant of all, they were supposed to be immortal, living for thousands of years and more. It was more than once that Annabelle pondered on this as she sat behind Legolas watching the countryside slide by. As the days went on, more and more little facts about elves began to come back to her, and in some strange way, this began to revive her a bit and draw her back out of the frightened cocoon she had begun to weave around herself since the shock of the trolls. She was beginning to come alive again, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Legolas.

It was just little things, like the way her eyes moved around and focussed on objects, the way she began to anticipate what he would be doing to set up the camp at night and if not help out, then not hinder either. She mostly avoided looking directly at him, for what reason he did not know, but she was a little less afraid of him each day as she realised that his thoughtfulness could be genuine. She was by no way ready to trust him, after all, he was not even of her own race, but she thought he was trying to help her and she began to become interested in where they were going.

On the forth night when they camped, Legolas was looking more cheerful than he had the entire time so far. Around the campfire that night, he gestured distantly in the direction of the sea, and he drew little figures in the sand for her to peruse, odd little people of who she couldn't guess their identity. Significantly, instead of drawing bows, he gave these figures swords, which were the fighting implements of men, not elves. The mystery deepened, and in her turn she drew for him a township with houses and animals and the like.

"No," he said to her, not unkindly. It was clear he did not mean a town. Then he stopped and considered, and rather sheepishly he put the town next to the people, but not right next to it.

"Mellon," he said emphatically, pointing to his chest. (friend) Then he pointed again to the stick figures in the sand.

"Aear," he said drawing waves, further away. (sea) A strange look came into his eyes as he looked at his depiction of the sea, a strange longing almost, which he quickly quelshed.

"Sea?" asked Annabelle. "I have heard of that you know," she said, trying to believe she was worldly.

Legolas seemed interested in the word she had used for his picture, and gestured for her to repeat it again. Then he copied her, to which she nodded. He then jumped up and began to flap his arms about comically.

"Gaear," he said. (gull) He tried to mimic the cries of seagulls, and Annabelle found herself smirking at his attempts. It was obvious he meant a sea-bird of some kind, so she obligingly said back, "Sea bird."

"Ahh," Legolas uttered appreciatively. "Sea bird. Bird. Hmm." He had stopped flapping his arms and instead flopped down beside her and began pointing to some objects around in their vicinity. In this way their little game continued, and they swapped parts of their languages with each other.

Legolas' bright eyes showed how much he was enjoying the game. He would periodically return to former objects they had already covered to test his memory. He was often correct. Then he would test her memory and she was less often right. He seemed to find that a little amusing, and would poke her every time she got one of the questions wrong. This only made her concentrate on his words even more, and soon she knew the word for fire, tree, stone, sky, bread, water, as well as various parts of the body too.

She tried to trick him by testing him on objects they had not covered yet, but he would just shake his head sadly and utter something incomprehensible to her.

It was rather a fun game because of the joviality he brought to it. The only word she didn't quite get was mellon. All she knew was that they were approaching these mellon people, the menfolk he had mentioned, and that Legolas was quite pleased about it. The town he said was Wickerwood. He seemed in quite high spirits as he unrolled his bedroll for her to bed down in for the night. He himself then settled on the other side of the fire as he usually did.

Him lying there staring up at the half-covered stars, she could see his profile smiling away at some inner happiness or joy. But Annabelle was not herself quite so comforted. What would this new development mean to her personally, now that she knew for sure that she was further away from home than ever? Was Legolas even considering that? A dread settled upon her anew, and her old fear began to resurface again.

She would just have to find someone in the township of Wickerwood to return her to her settlement, even though she couldn't pay them anything at all. And Legolas would be gone again, without her ever truly understanding what or who he was. The mysterious, kind stranger with the keen blue eyes and flowing blonde hair. Turning on her side away from his obvious happiness and from the fire's warm light, she began to tremble a little, and a wee, small tear escaped from her eye. It was just the smoke from the fire, she tried to tell herself, and then she drifted into an uncomfortable, dreamless slumber that she remained immersed in until morning.

Upon the rising of the sun, Annabelle noticed that Legolas was up even earlier than usual and was even more organised around the camp as well, if that was possible. The spring in his step was still there from last night, and he greeted her with a cheery good morning. Pretending to be in good spirits herself, she smiled back at him, but her heart really was not in it.

Pointing to the rising sun and then to the midpoint in the sky, Legolas tried to tell her that they would meet his mellon-nin by midday, if all went right for them. As he was rolling up the bedroll, he called her by that term as well. She knew it must mean 'friend' by now, they would be meeting his friends. Though the dread was still there in some measure, she also had to admit to herself that the new day brought with it a sense of curiosity. Perhaps it was some of Legolas' contagious good spirits, but she did wonder what kind of friends he would have and why they would be human.

She also knew that there would be a good chance that they would speak the Harad Tongue, her tongue, so she would probably find learning things a good deal easier. She could thank Legolas properly through some translator, before he went upon his way again into the big, wide world of Middle Earth. She began to feel curious about where he came from now, what he was doing here, and what kind of life he might lead. How old he was too, could he possibly be over one hundred years old? And she wondered with some awe if he had fought in the War of the Ring, or knew anyone who did. She had already seen his efficient handy-work with the bow, so was he a trained warrior of some kind?

In fact as they had been travelling, Annabelle realised she hadn't taken as much notice of him as she could have, so preoccupied had she been in her own fears for the future. Admittedly, they had spent most of the days on horseback, where the most she could study was the back of his flaxen haired head, but even in camp, she had withdrawn most of the time, even averting her gaze when he had tried to speak to her. Realising they would part ways by lunchtime today gave her a newer perspective of this warrior-elf who had freed her four days earlier. She should have paid more attention, been more open and willing to interact with him. She remembered her fear, and how lightened it felt now, maybe that was part of Legolas' doing. It was hard to be overly fearful in his company, she realised. That kind of thing just seemed to slide right off after spending all of this time around him.

As usual, they were preparing to get on horseback for the last leg of the journey to meet his friends. Before they did though, he gave her bandages, the ones that had been tied around her wrists, a checkup.

He had been most thoughtful all of this time when it came to her injuries. Each night he had examined her cuts and applied more ointment before using fresh bandages to bind them. They were healing nicely thanks to whatever was in the slave he was using. She could swivel her wrists around quite easily now whereas before they had felt quite raw and sore.

She thanked him now as he checked to see they were tied tight enough, trying to catch his eye this time to let him know that she did appreciate all he had done for her. All of it had been unasked, but well needed just the same.

Legolas seemed to get her meaning and said, "Think nothing of it. I am not a healer by any stretch of the imagination, but I am glad to see that you are more comfortable now."

It seemed they were beginning to take to speaking to each other in a more lengthy fashion despite the fact they knew their specific words were not understood. It didn't matter so much now that they were feeling a bit more comfortable, and generally the feeling of their words came across just the same.

"Are you a healer I wonder," Annabelle mused out loud to him as he patted her wrists gently.

"If only I could heal as well as others that I know," Legolas answered. Patting Arod he continued humbly, "This horse here could better diagnose someone than I could, although I try when I have to."

"Oh the horse. Am I holding us up? We had better make our way then to meet your queer mellon folk. I never could work out if your diagram depicted them as holding swords or giant bread sticks." She giggled at her own joke.

He leapt onto his horse then, and helped Annabelle up. She supposed it would be her last ride with this funny fellow and then she would be promptly sent home again, perhaps with a mail wagon or some such that travelled to Goldacres intermittently throughout the year.