Chapter 1

From a secure perch, the Prince of Mirkwood observed the company of strangers in the distance. They seemed to have little in common, but were clearly familiar traveling companions. With his sharp eyes he peered through the dappled shade to see the travelers in more detail. Ahead of the main group, a Man with short, dark, unruly curls walked with the strangest Beast on one hand and a surprisingly short Elf on the other. Walking in a loose cluster with an odd assortment of weapons, the party continued toward the grove where the Fellowship had camped.

As they passed under the canopy of trees, the golden Elf was telling some grand tale. He made an expansive gesture and the dark haired Man laughed softly. The Beast ("Is that a Warg!" Legolas exclaimed to himself) gave a sort bark in response to a question from the Elf and the dark haired Man laughed again. Next, a grim-faced Barbarian, (suffering through the chatter of a lovely, quick-stepping Archer), walked next to a gray haired Sorceress who was anything but matronly. Her stride, her staff, and her gaze spoke of power and an inclination to use it. A strange pair followed, heads bent and intent on whatever disagreement they were having. The man ("a 'Knight-In-Shining-Armour' no doubt" Legolas mused) jabbed his finger towards his companion to emphasize a point. This companion was quite the opposite of the 'Damsel-In-Distress' that usually accompanied such knights. Clad in shreds of silk and feathers the Damsel was a dramatic contrast to her Knight. A gnarled wooden staff marked her as spell caster and her manner clearly stated she would not be trifled with.

Momentarily abandoning his examination, he looked at Aragorn below. Legolas doubted the Ranger could see the travelers approach. "Let him wait," the elf thought. "Surely one of the mighty Dunedain does not need warnings from a simple wood-elf." Then, considering the best interest of the Fellowship, Legolas put away his petulant thoughts. They certainly deserved a quiet rest after a long, difficult day. He sent out a quiet whistle; a common trill signaling approaching strangers. It was particularly satisfying to see Aragorn's head snap up as if he'd been stung. Another thought sprang up unbidden; "Ha! He really didn't have a clue they were near. How can someone so dimwitted possibly be the hope of an entire people?" With roll of his eyes, the smug hunter settled back to apply his finely tuned senses to the task at hand.

Legolas slowed his breathing and attempted to absorb everything around him; every step, every jingle of every buckle, every whispered breath. Somehow he knew the exact instant the Beast became aware of them. A flick of the Beast's ear and suddenly the golden Elf knew too; a slight shift in balance and somehow he seemed more sinister than handsome. A half-glance passed between the Elf and the dark haired Man and triggered a chain reaction. The Knight became just a touch too casual, the Archer slightly too merry, the Barbarian imperceptibly more grim. Staves were gripped, shoulders raised, a step back, a step forward; battle positions, but barely noticeable. In a heartbeat the mismatched crew became a coiled spring.

Then, unexpectedly, the Man hailed Aragorn a in deceptively pleasant tone, requesting that he show himself. Too late, Legolas realized that the Ranger had not seen through the party's veneer of nonchalance.

With a frustrated sigh, Legolas scanned the clearing again as he readied his bow. His eyes came to rest on the Elf, who returned his stare. Meeting the impassive gaze, the curious part of Legolas wanted to know the Elf on the other end of those honey colored eyes. However, part of him hoped that a 'breakdown in communication' would lead to some excitement. After all, following a Hobbit across Arda and listening to Gandalf's constant preaching about the greater good had become decidedly boring.

Aragorn had always prided himself on his ability to watch without being seen. So, when Legolas sent the note of warning, he trained his eyes on the forest edge and waited, unconcerned. Finally, the travelers came into view. The Boy was not familiar to him, nor was the Elf who followed. He was almost alarmed when they paused some distance away from his hiding place. A sense of unease almost grew in him as he noticed the magi, the strange Beast, ("Is that a Warg!," Aragorn exclaimed to himself), and the Barbarian.

Arranged in the center of the clearing, it seemed as if the party was waiting for something. Aragorn almost paused to consider his course of action, but he had little time for contemplation. To his consternation, the Boy turned to face him in his concealment. They locked eyes and the Boy addressed him boldly, in eloquent but heavily accented Westron.

With a silent prayer that the impetuous and warlike wood-elf above him would have the good grace to remain hidden, Aragorn stepped into the clearing.

When the hooded stranger strode out of the brush, Zevran watched his Warden with one eye and the canopy with the other. Nothing but a faint shadow on an exposed lower limb told him that someone still lurked above them. With a subtle movement of his fingers and a slightly apologetic expression he informed his Warden of the unseen watcher.

All business, he surveyed the branches more carefully. As his eyes drifted through the leaves they landed on a similarly occupied pair. Somehow, the curious part of Zevran wanted to know who was on the other end of those inquisitive green eyes. "On the other hand, perhaps there will be a 'breakdown in communication' leading to some excitement," he thought to himself. It had, after all, been several days since he'd killed anyone.

To Aedan, Fallon's impeccable ears and Zevran's keen eyes left little mystery as to where the watcher was stationed. When Zevran indicated an additional observer was aloft, the Warden couldn't say he was surprised.

Unfortunately, it was obvious that the threat was not Darkspawn. This substantially decreased his desire for a confrontation. Acknowledging to himself that the situation was less than ideal, he looked back at Alistair. Receiving a minuscule shrug in return, the Warden managed to restrain an impulse to scream in frustration. His internal monologue wondered, "Could a day get any worse than an arrow in the shoulder I am only barely able to hide, Alistair and Morrigan bickering for 3 hours straight, and the endless prattle of Leliana trying to get Sten to abandon the Qun?" Aedan was positive that the only things maintaining his sanity were pleasant daydreams about sunny Antiva.

Hoping that it would not make his life any more 'exciting', he stepped forward, turned to face the first watcher and spoke. "I really think you should come out and show us who you are. In the long run it would be easier on both of us, provided there are no breakdowns in communication."

The Warden hoped it sounded more imposing in the Common tongue than it did in his head.

Notes: This chapter is probably much more light-hearted than subsequent chapters. I expect it will get pretty serious as the two quests start to blend. There will be SLASH or references to SLASH soon, so if you're not okay with that, you will want to bail.