The moment they stepped out of the inn, Haldir's tense shoulders relaxed a fraction, relieved to be free of the stifling air inside. Although the maiden, Neora, apparently, had done a commendable job of cleaning and clearing the space after the rambunctious guests had left for the night, there was still a lingering odour of sweat and intoxication in the air that he felt sure would never really fade.

He scrunched up his face as they made their way down the narrow street. Truth be told, the air was only marginally better outside. The smell of mud and dung filled his nostrils and he pressed his lips together in annoyance as he glanced down and noted that his boots were now coated with the thick slippery substance they were treading through. Although he was always keen to travel and visit new places, Haldir had to admit that he often found the more densely populated areas of Man Kind to be less agreeable to him.

They collected their horses from the stables provided for travellers, both agreeing that they felt more comfortable keeping the animals close to them than leaving them to fend for themselves in the village over night. Leading the steeds down towards the gates, they were soon clear of the village and gratefully stepped onto the gravel path outside the entrance.

Aragorn led them down the path towards the east, obviously knowing where he was heading, and Haldir trusted him well enough to follow willingly. Soon he branched off the path and into the forest. They did not trek too far before they came to a small clearing in the woods, the perfect place to make camp. Wasting no time in setting up a fire and spreading out their cots, they were soon ready for a good night's sleep.

Haldir lay upon the soft ground of the forest floor staring up at the dark sky that was barely visible through the tall trees around them. He could make out but a few twinkling stars, even with his own sharp gaze, but seeing them always served to offer him comfort. Soon enough, he heard the deep breaths of his companion, indicating that Aragorn was well and truly asleep. But he himself could not find the same tranquility so easily. His mind was too preoccupied.

To his great exasperation, his thoughts kept drifting back to the maiden at the inn. Aragorn's friend. He had known from the beginning, of course, that they were headed towards Bree with the intention of gaining another companion on their quest. He had been told it was an old friend of Aragorn's they were seeking out, and he had soon learned that this friend was a she (which he had found rather surprising at the time), but beyond that, his comrade had been rather cryptic about his acquaintance. With a bemused smirk, Aragorn had only said: "You'll see, my friend. You'll see."

Haldir was not overly fond of being kept out of the loop in any circumstances, but again, he trusted Aragorn with his life, and if his friend did not want to disclose anything further, he must have had his reasons, he'd decided. Now he realised that perhaps Aragorn's reason was that it was not his place to tell. He had noted from the moment he first laid eyes upon the maiden, and she laid eyes upon him, that she had been instantly wary of him. Indeed, it was rather obvious that she had spent the whole night anxiously avoiding their part of the room to the best of her abilities, and he doubted very much that it was Aragorn she was wary of. She seemed quite comfortable with him. No, it was obviously Haldir she feared.

The rest of the night, he had spent actively wondering why, feeling somewhat affronted despite himself. Why should she be fearful of him, when she was so obviously unbothered by every crude and impudent man that had visited the inn that evening, making all manners of discourteous advances towards her. Had he not shown every curtesy? Then again, she was no doubt very much used to the behaviour of the men who frequented the tavern. His presence at the inn had obviously taken her by surprise. Very rarely did elves journey to the west of Ennorath where Bree lay welcoming along the end of the East Road. And if they did, they were most likely passing through to the Grey Havens to journey west across The Great Sea. Perhaps it was the sudden appearance of an Elf that had the maiden so unsettled.

But why? Haldir could not shake the questions that kept probing his mind relentlessly.

He had soon entertained the idea that she might very well be one of his own kin. She was certainly lovely enough, he grudgingly admitted to himself. Her pale, unblemished skin, her tall, slender frame, along with the long, golden tresses of her hair, were all distinctly elven features. But none of that was evidence enough to determine the matter. She could still pass as a maiden of Men. Try as he had all night, he had not been able to catch sight of her ears. They had been safely hidden away under her braided hair, to his great annoyance. Seeing them would have been the number one tell-tale sign of her kin.

However, he had been pleasantly surprised when she had slipped up herself on using the Sindarin name for The Grey Wizard. Mithrandir. She had stopped abruptly then, obviously realising her mistake, and turned her wide eyes upon him. Even after Aragorn's attempt to consolidate her fears, she had still seemed reluctant to…

To what, exactly?

Haldir sighed, moving restlessly to try to find a more comfortable position on the ground. He was growing increasingly frustrated. Frustrated that he could not find sleep. Frustrated that he was so caught up in this foreign maiden he had only just met. Frustrated that he did not have all the information to make sense of her, so he could be done with her and shove her to the back of his mind where she belonged.

He shifted again. On that particular night, the ground which he had slept upon countless nights before in his eternal lifetime, seemed hard and unforgiving. And although he did not necessarily need the sleep, as elves could function several days without it, he still longed for the blissful oblivion it brought after a long day of travelling and sitting in that infernal, noisy place they called an inn.

He let out a long breath of aggravation and slumped back to his original position. It was of no use. He would not find sleep, his mind was to preoccupied and his body was too restless. Swiftly, he moved the blanket off his body and got to his feet. Grabbing his sword and sheath, safely securing it to his belt, he glanced over at his companion to make sure he was still sound asleep, then he silently made his way out of the clearing and soon found himself back on the path. He figured he might as well exert some of that itchy energy his body was stacked up with.

Soon his thoughts drifted back to the conundrum he had grappled with all night. What exactly was this maiden's fear? To give away her race? He thought about it for a moment. However strange it was for an elleth to be dwelling amongst Men, it certainly was not unheard of. And it was definitely not a crime. Therefore, Haldir could not understand why she was so set upon hiding her race from him. Her skittish behaviour was rather drastic for such a small matter, he thought.

Perhaps not just her race then…

Perhaps her identity? Had she committed some unspeakable crime that would make her an outlaw in the eyes of The Eldar? He scanned his memories, searching for any story, song or legend that might explain this elleth's fear of discovery, but he came up empty handed. Nothing about her rang a bell anywhere. Truth be told, he had very little information to go on. He only knew the name Aragorn had used for her. Neora. Probably not her given name. She was no doubt known by another name amongst their kin, so in the end, her name would tell him nothing new.

However, he had made another discovery during the conversation she had with Aragorn by their table. About the last time she had met The Grey Wizard. What was it she had said?

"Last I saw Gandalf the Grey, we parted ways at Imladris after… after Erebor."

Erebor. The name echoed in Haldir's mind. He was acquainted with The Lonely Mountain, of course, having travelled that part of the world a couple of times in his lifetime. He had never ventured inside the mountain though. There was little lost love between the elves and the dwarves, and he doubted very much that he should have been welcomed there.

Erebor had always been a domain of the dwarves, for there they had found mineral wealth and riches already in the Years of the Trees. But it was not until the second millennium of the Third Age that it became a stronghold for the Dwarven people, and the ancestral home of The King under the Mountain, Thráin the Old. During his reign, the Dwarves became a grossly rich people, accumulating vast riches of gold and treasure, as was in the Dwarven nature to covet. Then, tragedy had struck as the kingdom had been attacked by the dragon Smaug, and the Dwarves were forced to flee from their home.

He had heard tales of Gandalf the Grey setting the surviving heir to the throne, Thorin Oakenshield, upon a quest to reclaim their homeland. The news had been met with mixed emotions amongst the elves, for it was never a wise course to rouse and challenge a sleeping dragon. Especially not one as powerful and fearsome as Smaug. In the end, the Dwarves had been victorious in their aim to reclaim their homeland, but the cost had been great indeed. Not just to the Dwarves, but for Elves and Men too.

Haldir shook his head sadly, feeling grim by the thought. It was no wonder such a sorrowful look had passed across the maiden's face at the memory. If she had indeed been there, as he could only deduce, it would have been a grievous strain upon her immortal heart, of that he had no doubt. Nothing was as wretched and agonising to the Elves as that of such devastating and needless losses. The Galadhrim had not been involved in the conflict, therefore he had not participated himself. It was the Wood-Elves of Eryn Galen under the command of King Thranduil who had marched upon Erebor and subsequently been caught up in the battle of the five armies.

He could not help but wonder why Neora had been a part of the Quest for Erebor. Given the lack of camaraderie between the Elves and the Dwarves, it was strange that she should have volunteered to assist on such a quest. And even stranger indeed that the Dwarves had accepted it. He knew that Thorin Oakenshield was ferociously known for his dislike of the Elves, and would not readily accept any aid from The Eldar. Obviously, she had been encouraged by Gandalf the Grey to join in the quest, that much he had gathered from the conversation, but he still did not understand what incentive had made her accept.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he came to an abrupt stop upon the path. Truly, the whole elleth was an enigma he had trouble making sense of, and it was rather maddening. He had no idea why he cared so much. After a long life with many odd experiences, he was not used to not knowing. It was a rare occurrence indeed for such a puzzle to come along his way, and he supposed that was the appeal. It was refreshing. Something for his mind to ponder upon, other than the mundane of his every day life in Caras Galadhon.

He shook his head again to clear his thoughts. If the maiden agreed to join them on their quest, there would be ample time to sate his curiosity and find the answers he sought. If not, she would soon be forgotten as himself and Aragorn set out on their journey to locate Gollum and find the truth of this ring.

No sooner had he vowed to put this thoughts to a rest, when he came to an abrupt stop upon the path. The forest around him had gone eerily quiet, even more than what was strictly normal at night. His senses were on high alert as he felt that ominous sensation that something dark was present. He stiffened, reaching for his sword. Then, the wind shifted, bringing a new scent upon the breeze that had him unsheathing his sword in no time, ready to fight. It was a smell he had not expected to come across in Bree, but the foul and rotten stench filling the air was unmistakable.

Orcs.