We began our journey. I was constantly amazed at how beautiful this place was. We rode through forests, like the woods near my home, but they felt different. They felt alive. I could almost hear the trees and plants whispering to each other, spreading the news around the land in some forgotten language.

As we traveled, I began to learn more about my new companions. The little folk, whom I had assumed were children at first, were Halflings know as Hobbits. They spoke frequently of a place known as the Shire, which I supposed to be their home. They missed it terribly, especially the one called Sam. I could see it in their eyes. A sort of hollowness that was one part longing and two parts fear. But when I questioned them as to why they left, and what they were doing away from the Shire, I received nothing in return except dark glances.

I enjoyed the company of Merry and Pippen. They were those kind of people… Hobbits, that you couldn't spend to much time alone with, simply because they eventually became unbearably annoying. They were the most lighthearted of the group, dancing and singing around the campfire at night, while the others looked on and laughed.

The other two hobbits were something of a puzzle to me. Sam was rather quite, and I got the impression that he was generally pretty meek. But I liked him nonetheless. He was the one who did most of the cooking, during the few times that we did stop for meals. He whipped up delicious confections out of the few ingrediants that they had brought with them.

Lastly, was the hobbit called Frodo. He seldom spoke, even when spoken to directly. His mind often seemed to be far, far away than where we were. He seemed to my eyes…old, as though he had seem more than his share of suffering in a short stretch of time. It puzzled me, how his kind (from what I could tell of the other hobbits on our journey) were generally quite free spirited. He was the abnormalty. Well, there's an exception to every rule, I thought.

My other companions were less difficult to read than Frodo. Boromir was contemptuous, towards me anyways. It was obvious that he disproved of women in general. He existed soully for two purposes; to fight in battle, and bring glory to his country, Gondor, which he mentioned almost in every sentence. Gandalf was a kindly old man, but I could sense the hidden power the radiated from him. I liked him. He seemed to be like a father towards Frodo, and I caught them both talking on more than one occasion. For Aragorn, I had not much to say, but he seemed to be more used to roughing it then the other members of the group, but I sensed something regal about him, perhaps in the way he held himself and commanded others about. Gimili was quite the complainer, but I enjoyed his constant rivalry with Legolas.

Legolas was…quote different then anyone I had ever met before. Yes, he was more beautiful than any human I had ever seen, but it was more (I learned only later that he was, in fact, inhuman. An elf. Even then, I was not surprised. I had come to grips with this strange place). It was the way that he seemed so still, and peaceful, but was on his guard constantly.

I talked to him more than the others. It began on one of the brighter days, when the sun was shining, and the leaves cast dappled patterns on the forest floor. A soft wind stirred through the branches, swishing and swaying them back and forth. It calmed me. For a few moments, I thought I was back home, alone in the woods.

"I can almost hear the trees today," I muttered to myself. On a rare occasion, I would almost feel like they would speak to me, if I were only to listen closely.

"Hear the trees?" I jumped suddenly as a voice interrupted my thoughts. I spun around to see Legolas standing there, a soft smile on his face. I blushed. I hadn't realized that I had spoken out loud.

"I…sometimes, I feel like…when the wind whispers through the trees, like it somehow helps them to find their voice. I feel like they speak in some form of old language that is no longer known to anyone. It makes me sad." I bowed my head slightly, "I feel like they have so many stories to tell, but no one to listen." I don't know what made me tell him all of this. Many would think me crazy or strange. But instead he simply looked at me.

"There are fewer and fewer men who believe that the forest lives." He stared up at the trees, their patterns washing across his face. "But you're right. It lives and breathes and speaks, but only to those who listen." He turned to stare at me again. "I have never met one who hears the forest like you do."

I smiled softly, my cheeks reddening more noticeably. He made me self-conscience, the way he looked at me, though I knew I had little to hide. There was a still momentas we looked at each other for a little longer. Hesitently, he reached up towards my face, and brushed away a strand of my long auburn hair that had drifted into my face.

As soon as he made contact with my skin, I felt my pulse begin to race, and a rush of blood went to my face, staining my already rosy cheeks a dark red. I could feel tingles where his hands had touched my skin. We stared at each other.

Then the voice of Aragorn brought me back into the present, shouting something. We both whipped our heads around.

Hi guys, I'm sorry for the slow updates, but I have terrible writes block. Suggestions?