Disclaimer: Duh, I'm not the genius that created ME or LotR or Legolas or any of the rest of the stuff you all, I'm sure, recognize. I do own Kalia and anything else not found in Tolkien's writings, though, I don't mind if you borrow them, it'd be flattering. J Anywhoo, don't sue [hey I rhymed!], just enjoy.
Kalia blinked, willing her tired, bleary vision to focus in the cold light of dawn. Wrapping stiff fingers more tightly around her coffee cup, she shuddered. It was always cold this high up in the mountains, but the previous night's snows hadn't helped: her dark green flannel cloak was still soaked through from her fitful rest on the wet, frozen ground. It had been impossible to light any kind of fire in the night's damp snowdrifts, and the small fire she had managed that morning sent a feeble string of smoke into the still-grey sky. What little warmth it had offered was barely enough to heat the small tin mug of coffee she now held, yet for that much she was grateful. She was not usually affected so by extreme temperatures -- being wet had much to do with her discomfort.
Finishing her "breakfast", Kalia stood slowly and stretched her stiff limbs. She walked over to where Kiathu, her stallion, stamped the ground, and patted his neck. "We'll both be glad to return to civilization, won't we, Kia?" The horse blew in her face as if in reply, and Kalia smiled at him as she struck camp.
(Three hunters looking for hobbits passage)
They come upon a lonely rider....
"Aragorn, we are not the only wanderers on the plains of Rohan this afternoon." Legolas' keen elven eyes scanned the horizon.
"What do those eyes of yours see, elf?" Gimli puffed in his gruff, deep voice.
"A rider, on a brown horse, cloaked in green; and he rides this way." Legolas answered, his gazed fixed on something far in the distance.
"Then we will soon know whether he is friend or foe." Aragorn strode toward what yet seemed to him a mere black speck against a cloudless azure sky.
After several hours of hard riding, Kalia allowed Kiathu to take an easier gait to rest himself. Her cloak, long since dried in the much warmer sunlight of the plains, fluttered softly in the breeze. Looking ahead, Kalia saw three travelers walking toward her about a league away. "Strange," she addressed her mount, "Who would be walking out here? We're surrounded by naught but grass -- there's nothing for leagues!" She studied the figures as carefully as possible, though this proved to be difficult, as they seemed to blend with stone, grass, and earth. She urged Kiathu into a trot to get a better look, easing her sword in its scabbard just in case, and pulled her cloak over he face to hide her eyes.
"He seems to have spotted us and has quickened his pace. We will soon see..." Legolas trailed off, his eyes widening in surprise. "He rides bareback!"
Aragorn glanced at his friend. "No saddle? Who but the elves rides thus? I have heard of the Rohirrim's prowess with their animals, but surely...." he frowned in confusion.
"I see him now!" Gimli finally cried. As the rider approached, they soon heard a haunting chant-like melody in the language of Rohan, which was strange to their ears. To their surprise, however, the singer suddenly switched to Sindarin, and finally, repeated the verse in the Common Tongue:
"We come to greet thee, my mount and I,
To see whom ye may be;
If friend, well met, with peace pass by,
If foe, my sword you'll meet."
The rider came to a halt not twenty strides from where they now stood and watched them, silently. He rested an ornate bow on his right thigh, and twirled a green-feathered arrow in his left hand.
Kalia sat on her horse and fingered the etchings in her bow calmly. She studied them silently from within her deep hood, grateful for the concealment. "Elbereth", she breathed to herself as she got a better look at them. Then, more loudly, she challenged. "A Mirkwood elf, a Ranger, and..." she frowned, "a dwarf, all traveling as companions, in Rohan, and on foot nonetheless. This is certainly a baffling picture." She grinned at their appearance. "And, by the looks of you, you have been on the move for many, many days, without... a bath."
Aragorn smiled grimly. "Stranger, you seem to have sized us up rather accurately; now, would you reveal yourself, that we might have an equal chance of guessing your identity? You are, to say the least, a puzzle; you speak the languages of the Rohirrim and the elves, and ride bareback as an elf wood. Yet your steed is certainly of Rohan, and by the sound of your voice, you are a maiden!"
Kalia hesitated, then stuck the arrow in her quiver, fastened her bow on the pack behind her, and threw back her hood.
Legolas gasped. "Elbereth!" He cried. "Not just a lady; an elleth! Mellon, how is it that you wander about thus in a land of men?" All three hunters stared at her in surprise. "By Iluvatar..." He couldn't help but stare at the fascinating creature before him. The most intriguing aspect of her appearance was her eyes: they were haunting: an odd yet stunning shade of the purest lavender he had ever seen they were, and Legolas couldn't decide whether the feeling they gave him was of delight or unease; both, he decided. He tore his own eyes away from her gaze to take in the rest of the picture. Her copper-colored hair rippled and curled in the light wind with a life of its own, glinting like precious metals as it twisted in the sunlight. It reached past her waist, and was held back from her face by two small braids above her delicately pointed ears. Her features were perfect, and her sun-darkened skin tone was set off beautifully by both her hair and the dark green tunic she wore. This was high-collared, with the first few of silver clasps left undone. Silver thread worked into the knot work designs of the Rohirrim graced the sleeves, cuffs, collar, and either side of the opening. Under this she wore a white silk shirt with billowy long sleeves, which she left unlaced at her throat down to her chest. Soft brown leggings completed her clothing, fitting tightly so that each muscle in her upper legs could be seen, and very worn, supple brown boots were laced up to her knees. She had a quiver of arrows slung over her back, and the two ivory and silver handles of daggers, much like Legolas' own, peeped out over her shoulders. A low-slung sword belt held a long, straight blade on her left hip. All in all, she was breathtaking.
Kalia studied them, allowing them to do the same to her. A smile flicked about her lips when she saw the elf falter at her eyes, but she waited to speak until they had assessed her appearance fully. Then she spoke, "I am Lady Lieutenant Kalia, Rider of the Mark. I am loyal to King Theoden, my liege; Eomer, my captain; Eowyn, his sister and my dearest comrade; and to anyone who takes their side and the side of all that is good against the threat in the East." She slipped off Kiathu's back and stood before him proudly. "I have been scouting the mountain passes for a fortnight now for signs of enemy activity, and am returning to give my report to the Lord of the Mark." Kiathu put his head over her shoulder and nickered quietly in agreement.
Aragorn smiled. "Lady, I am honored to meet such a loyal, and I must say intriguing, member of the famous Riders of Rohan. I, as you so keenly pointed out, am a Ranger: I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn." He bowed respectfully, surreptitiously nudging the frozen Legolas in the ribs.
"Ah, yes," the elf stammered at the not-so-subtle cue, "forgive me, Lady; I am, to say the least, surprised to find an elf in a kingdom of men; though I suppose that my choice of companions is just as strange." He smiled, a dimple showing in his left cheek. He caught up her hand and kissed it as he bowed. "I am Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood."
