"Guess who?" came a mischievous, deep voice from behind me. I giggled and lifted my hand to feel the long fingers that spread across my eyes, blocking my vision. As if I had not already identified the culprit, I ventured an ill-placed guess.
"Only some sort of Dwarf would have hands as hairy as these," I quipped, biting my lip to suppress another out-of-character giggle.
"Come now, Laina, I'm not that hairy!" The hands moved away from my eyes and I spun around. My laughter was greeted in a similar vein by the grey eyes of a familiar, dangerously unclean Man.
"Been off doing that 'ranger' bit of yours, have you?" I teased as Aragorn wrapped both arms around me suggestively.
"It just so happens I have, and have caught quite a creature if you must know," Aragorn explained, pulling me closer.
Ignoring the short description of whatever Aragorn had caught this time, I struggled to break free of his ever-tightening grip. "And just what would Lady Arwen say if she saw us wrapped up like this?" That question made him loosen his hold for only a second, which was too brief for me to escape his grasp.
"We will just have to hide then," Aragorn said, sweeping me off my feet and carrying me a few paces playfully before setting me down again. "Oh, I guess you're right."
"I know what you would say, though," I replied, regaining my balance and putting on a very serious expression. I deepened my voice uncharacteristically and began to stammer, "Arwen…I…we…you're…" and I stuttered off into a feigned-uncomfortable silence. Aragorn, despite himself, laughed at my impression of him when Arwen was around. "Honestly," I began pointedly, "she pledged her hand in marriage to you twenty-nine years ago and you still cannot form a complete sentence in her presence. How did she decide you were 'the one'?" Aragorn smirked.
"I guess it is my hopelessly irresistible looks," he retorted. I scoffed.
"Then she's as blind as a Balrog," I laughed. Aragorn wagged a finger at me, but sighed in resignation and shook his head.
"One day I will be able to hold a comprehensible conversation with her," he hoped aloud, a wistful expression on his dirty face. This time, I shook my head and we walked around a bit in silence. At length, Aragorn spoke up again. "I really have to get going." The tone of his voice was almost reluctant at leaving my sight, and I could tell this was not a normal 'get going.'
"To where, exactly?"
"Mirkwood." The word rang out in my head a thousand times before I actually understood the word and its connotations. I must have thought about the Wood every day since I had left it five hundred years ago, but I had never returned. The memories of the place where I spent my first fifteen years grew fuzzy, until the only clear memories I had were the faces of the few good friends I had played with and the smell of our flet in the mornings. I had only heard from one Elf in Mirkwood since the day I left; Legolas had written me a letter telling me of the new friend he and Malian had the fortune of meeting. I sensed no real feeling in the words he had written and, at the time, I was hurt; but the pain of leaving had long since vanished and I had unconsciously forgiven the fifteen-year old Legolas and Malian for finding someone else with whom to pretend. Now, at the mention of the Wood, I was lost in a wave of emotion uncommon of me. Aragorn snapped me out of my near-trance.
"Laina?"
"Oh, sorry," I said quickly, shaking my head to expel what memories I had left floating in between my pointed ears. A look of comprehension came over Aragorn's face.
"Oh, how idiotic of me, Laina! I completely forgot you were born there," Aragorn exclaimed. Returning to my former self, I thumped him on the nose.
"You are an imbecilic excuse for a mortal," I replied, ducking his oncoming swat. "Did you intend to hit a lady?" I asked incredulously.
"A lady?" Aragorn replied stupidly, glancing over his shoulder. "I see no ladies around here!" That statement earned him a clout on the back of the head, and laughter ensued. Aragorn grabbed my hand, which was about to deliver another smack, rather forcefully and his face regained a serious overtone. "Do you want to come with me?"
"What?" I asked doubtfully. "To Mirkwood?" Aragorn nodded. I had never thought of returning as a real possibility, but I saw some merit in revisiting my birthplace and, a little too quickly, agreed to accompany him.
"Great!" Aragorn yelled, picking me up and twirling me around. "We just have to get Gollum and let Elrond and Gandalf know--"
"Gollum? Gandalf?" The former was anonymous to me, but the latter all too notorious. "What in Arda is going on?"
Aragorn cleared his throat, suddenly aware that he had explained nothing to me. "It's a rather long story, but the short of it is I was to catch a creature named Gollum and bring him to Mirkwood. I am disinclined to enlighten you as to exactly why this has to be done; I don't even know the full story, though I can guess most of it," Aragorn said, and I saw his eyes cloud over in thought. I decided it best not to extricate details, and instead followed Aragorn to the dungeons.
At first sight Gollum was nothing short of revolting, to say the very least. He was crawling about in his cell on all fours, using what must have been hands as temporary feet. His skin was taught and pale and he seemed almost skeletal; the black hair on his head was thinning and short, and his large, saucer-like eyes were sapphire blue and questioning. He had a sort of loincloth, brown and ragged, tied thoughtlessly around his waist. His mouth was, like his eyes, substantial and showed signs of only a few teeth spread out in his great array of gums. He was talking to himself without consideration and I could not help but catch snippets of something about his 'precious' and the mention of someone who was rather 'nasty,' and I thought I heard something about 'thieveses.' However, most of what he said was indiscernible and, at any rate, probably not worth hearing. I watched as Aragorn opened the door to his cell cautiously and entered, and quickly tied a rope around the creature's neck. At this, Gollum screamed in displeasure and my hands moved quickly to my sensitive ears.
"Can't you shut him up?" I yelled over the din Gollum was making. Aragorn looked around, puzzled, and yelled for Gollum to shut up, which of course did no good. Only after a few minutes of screaming was Gollum interrupted by the very noise which must have given him his name.
"Gollum, gollum, nasssty Man ties ropes around our necks, precious, yes. Uses nasssty Elveses' rope, he does, yes, precious," and the rest of his speech was cut off by the sudden realization that Aragorn and I could hear him.
"Gollum?" I said aloud as I tried to sound calming; I had the vague impression that the name came out a little too hesitantly, however, because Gollum spouted off more nonsense before grumbling himself into silence again. "Um…Gollum?" I said, more gently this time. Gollum swung his large, saucer-like eyes to me and cackled. Aragorn tugged at the rope a bit, at which Gollum screamed again (but only for a moment this time), and followed us unwillingly out of the dungeon and into the sunlight.
I will not recount the long days of our journey from Imladris to Mirkwood, because the voyage was routinely dotted with strange mutterings from Gollum and sound and colorful swears from Aragorn when Gollum tried to bite him. Apart from those mildly amusing events, the trip was monotonous and my ever-growing anxiety at returning to Mirkwood was reaching warning levels so high that Aragorn refused point-blank to speak to me for an entire afternoon. That is not to say we did not flirt mercilessly on our way to Mirkwood save for that one afternoon. Finally, we reached the outskirts of Mirkwood and I was forced to drink it all in once again.
Nothing had changed, I saw immediately. The trees still huddled together and broke apart in places, as green as they had been five hundred years ago. We passed underneath the flets of the villagers, some of which had heads peeping curiously out of windows or doorways. We continued unquestioned, because what Elf in their right mind would approach a Man as unkempt and seemingly inhospitable as the one beside me, not to mention with Gollum skulking along with us? I smirked inwardly at their puzzled expressions, wondering what I would have thought if I were them. My musings were interrupted unceremoniously, however, as a guard in front of the castle knocked a bow in his arrow so swiftly I would have thought he had been standing there, arrow in bow all day.
"State your business, travelers, or I will stick an arrow through all three of you," came the threatening voice. I nearly choked on my next breath, startled as I was, and I surveyed the guard meticulously. There had never been guards at the castle doors before, and I was not ready to believe this Elf was serious until I took a closer look. By Varda, he was gorgeous from the roots of his dark hair to the slightly pink color of his ear tips right down to his authoritative black boots. I stared humorlessly into his eyes and noticed softness in the blue lights shining there. I did a mental double-take, examining once more his long, chestnut locks and the ocean blue of his eyes before abandoning all caution and running toward him excitedly. He nearly dropped his bow when I threw my arms around his neck and let out a high-pitched, abnormal squeal of delight.
"Do I know you?" he asked skeptically as I pulled away. I thumped him on the nose, and at once his eyes adjusted. His mouth fell open and I saw him scanning my body as I had his; his eyes started at my head and fell down my strawberry-blonde hair, which I no longer kept short and straight but rather long and wavy; they recognized my blue eyes that matched his; they wandered disconcertedly (and hastily, mind you, for fear of being clouted) around my chest and fell with my long, grey dress to my toes.
"Laina?" Malian whispered as if he had just seen an army of Orcs ten-thousand strong. I nodded as a grin spread over his face and he actually dropped his bow to put both arms around me and pick me up, spinning me around. "I cannot believe it's you! Where have you been? Five hundred years, Laina! And my, has it done wonders on you-" he started, but I pinched the sensitive tip of his ear just in time.
"Another word and I'll have you screaming for your mother," I threatened resolutely, and he did his best impression of a child pleading to be released; I complied, and he hugged me again before realizing I was not the only being that had just vaulted into his life.
"Who are your—er, companions?" Malian nearly spat the word, for lack of a better one. Aragorn grinned sheepishly (and could I see a hint of gratitude in that smile?).
"This is Aragorn," I said brightly, indicating my scruffy, hairy friend. Malian seemed less than enthusiastic to greet him, and I had to giggle. "I grew up with him."
"You grew up with us," Malian argued, his eyes flashing. Varda, why was he getting so defensive?
"Fifteen years compared to the seventy-eight I have lived," Aragorn admonished, deadpan. Malian scowled.
"You two stop your squabbling and shake hands," I insisted, and they both hesitated before giving in and shaking hands halfheartedly. "That wasn't so hard, was it? You filthy racists." Aragorn made to retort, but I brushed him off by introducing our other guest. "This is Gollum," I said definitely as if the name alone explained the matter. Malian raised one dark eyebrow.
"I was sent by Gandalf to take him to King Thranduil," Aragorn clarified.
Malian nodded distastefully in Gollum's direction. "What exactly is that thing?"
"Not sure, really," I admitted, having never pondered the question before. Aragorn shrugged too. "Anyway, we are apparently to take him to Thranduil--"
"King Thranduil," Malian interjected.
"Right, King Thranduil," I corrected myself, but the whole thing seemed awkward; I was so used to being on a rather friendly basis with the King that it was a bit perplexing to refer to him as 'King Thranduil.' Nevertheless, I continued, "And I would really like to hear what you have been up to all this time, Malian," I finished, smiling. Malian returned the smile and grabbed my hand, leading me inside.
"Everyone will be so glad to see you," he said, ignoring the worried look on Aragorn's unshaven face as he followed us timidly inside with Gollum on the other end of the rope.
"Um, not to interrupt," Aragorn said, interrupting nonetheless. "But I really must see Thranduil right away." I shot him a puzzled glance as Malian grimaced at the sight of Gollum inside the castle.
"Alright," Malian finally agreed grudgingly. "Follow me. Laina, you stay here, I will be right back after I bring this—this—Man to the King." If words were spears Aragorn would have been skewered, but as it was he made a face at Malian's turned back and winked at me, indicating that when he returned I would be punished for leaving him alone with Malian and Gollum.
"You pervert," I said after him. I found myself standing alone in the foyer of the castle, looking around at the familiar wood-glazed walls and feeling the comforting green carpet beneath my feet. A hollow sound like children laughing reached my ears, and I thought I would go into a fit of nostalgia, but my memories were postponed by another Elf emerging into view.
The aforementioned emerging Elf was a foot taller than I with long, golden blonde hair plaited behind his ears on both sides and ending in a half-ponytail behind his golden head. He was clad in all green, a tunic and a belt around his waist, lighter green leggings covered at the feet with black slippers. His honey-brown eyes were scrolling the lines of a book he was holding in his hands and he was walking lithely toward me without knowing I was present. Not wanting to disturb the Elf's reading but far from wanting another surprise attack by what looked like an able archer from his build (I could practically see every individual muscle in his stomach underneath his tunic), I cleared my throat audibly. The Elf looked up from his book and nearly dropped it on sight, gazing fervently at what I hoped was not my breasts. I coughed a little again as his eyes wandered over me, careless that I knew exactly where they were roaming.
"Are you just going to stand there and eye me all afternoon?" I asked loudly, clearly snapping the lout out of his little fantasy. His eyes burned intensely into mine after I spoke, making it almost impossible for me to speak again. Could I see the slight beginnings of recognition in his expression? But surely not, for this Elf was completely foreign to me.
"L-Laina?" his (from what I could tell, usually) unfaltering voice inquired. I had never heard my name in such an unbelieving tone, even after hearing the way Malian said it. I had not the faintest idea who this Elf was, and I think he was almost taken aback by my inability to identify him immediately. "You have forgotten your best friend?" he asked, recovering from whatever sudden identity crisis had stricken him momentarily speechless. My best friend? It—no, it wasn't. It—it couldn't be. But he was so handsome! He was so…much older!
"Legolas?" I nearly screamed. A grin quickly threatened to tear his face in half, and I recognized at once the cheek behind it. Before I could register exactly who I had just seen, I was in another Elf's arms and being twirled around for the second time that day. My, my, his arms did feel rather strong and certainly able. I wondered immediately whether or not he had ever put his fingers to use, but banned the thought from my mind almost as soon as it had appeared. This was Legolas, for Varda's sake.
"Laina! Wow, you look so—so—different," Legolas stumbled over the words as he put me down and eyed me again.
"So do you!" I admitted loudly, thumping him on the nose. "How are you, O Prince?" I added quickly as he crossed his eyes and rubbed his nose, the impish grin still spread across his face.
"There's so much to say," he began seriously, but I clouted him on the back of the head playfully.
"You haven't gone all dignified on me, have you?" I checked. Legolas shook his head and laughed.
"Never." With that, the two of us linked arms and strolled about the corridors, talking jovially of the last five hundred years. Of course, five hundred years was no short time for the race of Man, but for the two of us, it seemed only a few years since we played pretend in the halls of the castle and chased each other around until we could not breathe for panting. Legolas had the same comic outlook on many happenings about the forest, including the irascible courtesans who, from the sound of it, rather stalked Legolas wherever he went. He could not help but laugh at the description of Aragorn as a foul, perverted, cheeky little scoundrel and all but cried with mirth at the impression of Aragorn trying to speak to Arwen Evenstar.
"Arwen was always a charmer," Legolas admitted.
"You've met?" I asked suspiciously.
"Being the daughter of Lord Elrond, she has done her fair share of traveling." At this, my mood lightened considerably, which Legolas must have noticed because he asked, "Do you really think that if I had been to Imladris I would not have found you straight away?" I could not help but smile at this, and, with my arm in Legolas', we continued talking animatedly about the five hundred years we had spent apart.
