A/N: Alright, I havent't written anything in ages...Honestly, this is the second fic I've posted here (this is ED speaking, not FC - she wrote the others; remember, this is a joint account). In any case, here tis, a tale of heart warming respect among dear old friends we all know from Tolkien's beloved triology - The Lord of the Rings. I'm not laying any claims, and all that...moving on to the story!
It was one of those rarely beautiful days when the gentle winds of the south softly caress the lands on the borders of Ithilien. Indeed, such times are rarely encountered even in these parts of Middle Earth and never fail to make any onlookers nostalgic. Sometimes they bring back memories of the old days when the power of the elves was at its height, and other times the sight of the land seems like a grander version of the Shire itself, all depending on the visitor's frame of mind. And, of course, there are those times when the sight of sunshine is enough to full out a traveler's heart, especially since an exceptionally long stay in the Mines of Moria...
"...although dwarves wouldn't really mind staying in the dark for any amount of time" Legolas finished his thought.
"What was that?" asked Gimli, not quite hearing the elf's mutter but quickly making the conclusion it was offensive to him.
"Oh, nothing much – just my own musings..." answered Legolas haughtily.
"Musings? Indeed, my friend, for musing is apparently the only thing you or any elf can do" snorted Gimli.
"No, I also fight, unlike a certain someone who lacks the height to do so properly and is unable to even reach the enemy's knee" retorted Legolas.
"My DEAR elf, I assure you that would not be the case in the great halls of my very own ancestors..."
"And I assure you that the two of you in a quarrel would provide enough noise to give cover for an entire orc army!!!" interrupted Aragorn.
He was in a foul mood considering that their most powerful and wise member had perished in Moria, the Fellowship was tired and injured, the ring bearer was hurt badly, and it was near sundown, bringing the moment when hordes of angry orcs would literally erupt from the mountains closer and closer. And of course, these quarrels between the stubborn elf and dwarf were annoying as it was...
--Maybe if I leave the two behind so they may scare the orcs away with their shouting, or bash their heads until...--
Aragorn decided it was best to concentrate on bringing the remainder of the Fellowship to Ithilien instead. It was just so hard to take on the responsibilities left by Gandalf...how did he ever manage?
"Stop insulting what you know naught of, arrogant elf!!"
"Know naught of? Perhaps you're right and I should spend more time studying dwarfs. I mean, there are so many questions about your kin – like how did you ever survive with your rather...err, limited size..."
"Oh, I'll tell you! With fighting spirit, that's how and certainly not with skipping along flower beds in the spring."
"Pardon? What's that supposed to mean?!?!?!?!?!"
-o-
The two unfortunate victims with what was obviously a very impaired peripheral vision did not even see the last hope of mankind come up amidst a cloud of fury...
-o-
As Frodo weakly moaned from his pain, he slowly focused his eyes on a rather interesting spectacle some distance away. As it seemed, Aragorn was strictly lecturing two figures tightly bound to a pair of trees. He then proceeded to slowly stride towards the rest of the Fellowship in the midst of two despairing shouts. Turning around with deliberate leisure, he talked with them a while more and finally cut their ropes. Frodo then looked around finding the rest of the Fellowship with their eyes bulging out just as much as his.
-o-
The Fellowship then continued its journey quickly and efficiently, enveloped in total silence.
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