Something Vague
Chapter One

A/N: This story is going to contain some mild slash between Aragorn and Legolas. It's not going to be overly explicit since I'm not quite sure how to write explicit slash stories. Haha. It focuses more on their bond/future with tender moment splashed throughout.

They work together so smoothly that I sometimes question if they are not the same mind in two different bodies. When Aragorn moves, Legolas dodges. When Legolas shoots, Aragorn ducks. It's a smooth motion. Started by one and finished off my the other. Sometimes, they will call out to each other, give forewarning about an upcoming blow, but usually, no one has to say a word.

I'm useless in battle. There is little else I can do but hide behind something and hope that the enemy doesn't find me. Should I be exposed, I have little chance of fighting off anything that should try to take the Ring. Aragorn tries to stay close but in the heat of battle, he chases after a fleeing orc. I crouch behind some brush, my shoulder pressing against Sam's. We hold our breaths. If we attract the enemy, it will be the death of us.

The fellowship doesn't falter. Even when someone is grazed by the enemy's weapon, they continue fighting. They are true warriors. They are the subjects that make up stories of heros. My skin isn't as hardy. It succumbs to burns by the kettle or scrapes from the bark of trees. Instinctivly, my hand travels to the growing scar on my shoulder. The pain flares whenever I think about it. It's but one scar. I'm sure Aragorn and Boromir have scars of survival littering their bodies.

Aragorn returns to his position after killing the Orc. He and Legolas are only yards away from us. They step in unison as they fend of five orcs. Aragorn pushes forward, giving Legolas time to switch from his bow to his knives. The elf quickly rejoins the ranger. Aragorn pushes into the attack while Legolas defends the blows that Aragorn misses. They each take turns ducking, crouching, and turning; never breaking the pace that they set previously.

It's graceful. They move with such flawlessness that I wonder if they somehow practiced everything in the woods of Mirkwood. When I first witnessed them fight, I passed it off as nothing more than an acquired skill. Weeks of silent watch has taught me something different. It's not their training that makes them such warriors, It's the fact that Aragorn and Legolas trust each other.

Legolas turns suddenly and shoots an arrow into the head of an orc. The arrow nearly grazes Aragorn's cheek but the Ranger doesn't so much as blink. If Legolas is replaced with Gimli or Boromir, Aragorn doesn't have the same calm surrounding him. His eyes show the slightest doubt and depending on the situation, he moves out of the way.

There is a piercing silence when the last orc falls. It's not until Legolas eases his shoulders that Aragorn sheaths his sword. He signals for us to retreat from the cover of the brush. The silence lingers for a few minutes before I dare move from my hiding place. I fear that something might still be lingering in the distance, waiting for the right time to strike. Aragorn turns in my direction when I don't emerge with the other hobbits. With his assurance, we take hesitant steps towards them.

Their breaths are heavy as I approach. The sun reflects off the sweat that is covered Aragorn's face. I almost feel ashamed for having hid throughout the small battle. My hand grips my sword in a futile gesture to match the image of my companions.

Gandalf quickly rushes towards me. He inspects me, almost expecting to find me broken. It almost reaffirms my doubt. I'm not built for this quest.

He grabs my shoulder. "It's a good thing hobbits are accustomed to burrowing."

His smile is enough to ease my nerves for the moment. Peace of mind, however, doesn't stay long. "Are they gone?"

"For now." He squeezes my shoulder before turning his attention towards Aragorn. The two speak of our next move. I look at the two men, getting lost in their conversation. They speak of rivers I've yet to dip my feet into and cities I've never heard of. In the back, Legolas scans for fallen arrows and Boromir and Gimli check the bodies that are scattered around us. It's only me and the rest of the hobbits that stand awkwardly, waiting for instruction.

My eyes follow Aragorn's and while he speaks to Gandalf, his eyes are still focused upon Legolas. He suddenly looks at me and a flush blows across my face. I feel like an intruder caught in the midst of rummaging through someone's closet.

Boromir joins us. "The enemy will be our constant shadow." He looks around him as though he expects more foul creatures to rush towards us. "We must go."

Gandalf nods. "We will continue through the woods," he says.

Continue? The word makes my head heavy. It's all I can do to keep my body from shuddering at the idea.

"Frodo?"

I look at Gandalf and realize he is asking me a question rather than demanding we go. I debate whether the same endurance that flows through them has a place in my veins. I look over at Sam. Hesitation has masked over his face. Passively, he rubs one of his feet with the other, failing at his attempt to give himself a light massage. I feel the same sting in my own feet. Ignoring the pain is a swiftly losing battle. I've gotten this far thinking this was nothing more than a long hike along the Shire's hills but every step brings darkness into my heart and heaviness to my foot.

"We continue on," I say, though I know not where the answer comes from. "We will camp just before it grows dark." The words seem foreign on my tongue.

Legolas nods. "I shall scout ahead, least the road be unfit for our hobbit friends."

Aragorn grabs the Elf's arm. "Careful, friend. We don't know of the dangers that may be awaiting us."

"Then I shall become part of the shadow," Legolas answers. He looks at Gimli. "It's best that I fall upon our enemies with stealth and our presence is not given away by the footfall of the dwarf." With that, Legolas is off.

My decision is not argued. Within moments of Legolas' departure, we continue on through the wood. It's been a few weeks since we departed from Rivendell. Since I somehow mustered that I would take the Ring to the Mountain. I still can't say where that bravery came from. Every night of sleeping on the cold ground sets the reality of all this a little deeper.

Sam and I walk to the side of the group, keeping a slight distance from the others. His breath is beginning to grow heavy and he fumbles with his pack.

"Evening will come shortly," I say, trying to sooth his exhaustion.

"And then morning will come shortly after that," Sam responds. He bites his lip, then adds: "I'm sorry Mr. Frodo, it's just that I've never walked this far in my life."

"I know Sam, but we must keep up with the others." There is no comfort I can give him at this time.

We are rejoined by Legolas moments later. He offers good tidings of the road ahead. Our pace becomes more lax. However, even the promise of a safe road ahead of us does not rid us of the silence that has accompanied us since we left Lord Elrond's land. Everyone is listening for possible warnings of the enemy. Aragorn walks with a slight tilt of the head. He's inviting the forest to give him warnings of things to come. Such a strange ability to rely on nature. Beside him, Legolas surveys the path before us. Even now, they are working together. Both are allowing the other to focus on a particular path.

My finger's gentle stroke the ring as we continue on silently. Aragorn's eyes are steadily watching the trees in front of us. He walks with ease and it allows me to relax. I look to my right and watch as Merry and Pippin lightly joke with one another, seemingly oblivious to their exhaustion and the task at hand.

They look so fragile compared to the Gimli and Boromir, we all must. For a moment, I feel panicked. Who are we to walk amongst such valor? While we forged for carrots in the dirt or picked at Farmer Maggot's crop, our companions were out fighting for their land, skillfully becoming men of honor.

These men look to me for orders.

Suddenly, my fatigue becomes apparent. I feel a sting growing in the middle of my eyes and my shoulder's burn from the straps of my pack. The sun is setting but evening will not come soon enough. Before I know that I'm talking, I say: "We should rest."

Everyone slowly comes to a halt and I'm silently begging everyone is secretly as tired as me. Gandalf meets my gaze and nods. "So be it, ring bearer."

"We have much road to travel," Boromir says, "we should not give up what remaining hours we have."

Aragorn drops his pack and begins to make a small clearing, "If Frodo wishes to rest, Boromir, then we shall make camp."

"No good has ever come from exhaustion," Legolas says.

Boromir has been watching Legolas and Aragorn with a curious stare since Legolas' outburst at the council. He almost seems weary in their company. "Then we shall rest," he says.

Aragorn and Gimli set out to collect firewood. I feel a flush growing upon my face, never having been the one to cause such quarreling between others. I wish to say something to ease the tension but my heart is empty of wise words. I sit down in defeat, suddenly feeling at odds with those around me. Though it's not quite dark, I undo my bedroll. I fall asleep before wood for the fire is brought back to camp.