A/N: So...how are you guys finding this story? Do I keep going with it? Not sure what to do with this review drought. Well, its up to you if you'd like more. Please keep me informed! (Hint: I will give longer updates if I think there are readers who want more).

Recap: Annabelle has just taught Legolas how to make sacred water.

Chapter 6: Poor Student

Legolas was appreciative of her effort to teach him something new. It was a much more simple exercise than he had imagined. Though to Annabelle's chagrin, he called this new technique "human magic".

She had tried in vain to impress upon him her embarrassment at him calling it magic. It was nothing of the kind. It was simply working with a liquid crystal. Did he not know that crystals were living things; that water contained consciousness? She tried to explain to him that the Valar's emissaries programmed the water through her, so really she was not doing anything at all. She was merely the medium through which others worked, but she doubted he understood the finer points of that. He had a new enthusiasm to start blessing all kinds of things.

He said to her, "May I bless food before I eat it?"

"You certainly can, or say a house before you move into it. Of course."

Legolas' eyes shone with this new knowledge. "I want to make this up to you Aniel. I want to teach you something in return. Do you know anything of weapons?"

The girl cringed. "Oh, no, really, that is okay. I don't feel comfortable with taking the life of another living thing. It is not me."

Legolas looked at her incredulously. "But what of dark things, things that would take your life without a second thought? Would you not like to know how to defend yourself if ever the need arose?"

"Well," she was still hesitant. He seemed to so want to repay her with something, so reluctantly she agreed.

"Good," said Legolas. "We shall start then with the bow. Follow me over to those trees yonder, and we will begin your first lesson." It seemed he had done this type of thing before with others.

Legolas and Annabelle moved over to the allotted location, while the rest of the men began to set up camp upwind from the poisoned lake. Legolas had his bow and quiver with him, and set to work trying to show Annabelle the correct way to hold the slender, crafted weapon, also how to place an arrow on it ready to spring to life. She pretended to be interested.

"Now for your first target. Don't worry Aniel, I do not expect you to be perfect first time around. Aim for that tree, the nearest one to begin with. Now release the arrow how I showed you…….er, what in Valinor was that?" he asked. "How did you get the arrow to go in that direction? I must say, you technique is certainly ….interesting."

She turned and gave him the dirtiest look possible. "You said you did not expect me to get it right the first time," she pointed out indignantly.

"Right," Legolas said. "Well, try again. No, don't point it at me!" Legolas sprang out of the way as Annabelle accidentally released an arrow straight at him. "Do I look like a dark creature coming out of the woods to take you?" he asked, looking to the heavens.

"Maybe you do," snarled Annabelle to herself. "Sorry," she said to him.

"Now concentrate. You will never pick it up otherwise."

After a half hour of careful and patient coaching, Legolas was able to see that she had made absolutely no progress at all. In fact, her technique was deteriorating, if such a thing was possible. He said to her thoughtfully, "Maybe you could merely hit the beastie over the head with the bow."

"That is not nice," Annabelle retorted, defeatedly. "Well, I did tell you I was not a warrior and that this was not my thing."

"Maybe we could try with the short sword…" As Annabelle's eyes widened in horror at the thought, Legolas capitulated. "Yes," he said, "your arms are so weak, even if I could teach you the technique, you would not be able to ward off a stronger attacker. And they would all be stronger. If an orc stood in front of you defenceless, with a target on its chest, I do not believe you would have the strength to force the sword to penetrate…"

"Tell it to me straight, why don't you."

"Well, I thought you would appreciate honesty."

"I don't even want to kill anything anyway, I told you that."

Legolas threw his hands up in the air. "I was just trying to return the favour and teach you something. Most people can pick up this kind of thing."

"Well, not me," Annabelle said softly. "I suppose elf maidens are strong and can fight and do battle, with skill and accuracy, and still look pretty afterwards?"

"Yes," the elf said simply. "They make very handy and skilled warriors."

That was too much for Annabelle to take. She already felt a little inferior around the being with the otherworldly charms and strength and light, so she said loudly, "Good for you, then!" and walked off in a strop.

Legolas was left standing there wondering what had just happened. If she was bad at handling weapons it was no one else's fault except her own. Shrugging, he went off for a short walk through the woods to cool down just a bit, not that she had really got to him. He was just annoyed, he told himself, that was all.

Later that night around camp, Legolas paused in his conversation with Aragorn to sniff the air. He did so, so abruptly, that several looked over in his direction.

"What is it?" asked Aragorn.

Legolas relaxed, but just a little. "Bushfire," he said shortly.

The elven kind, perhaps more than any other, feared fire, because of the danger to their homes built within the branches of trees. When a fire of any kind threatened their wooded kingdoms, which luckily was rare, they did everything they could to prevent it from spreading. It was unusual for the terrain to be dry enough for such an event to cause real concern, but this year everyone had begun to note how very dry the underbrush was. It had just been a curiosity, up until now.

"It is probably nothing," noted Aragorn, trying to comfort his friend. "Can you tell which direction it is coming from?"

Legolas stood and sniffed the air tellingly for a few moments, then sat slowly again.

"South. I do not know how far away and the night is too dark to see smoke, but I am sure it will be fine."

The young elf's eyes still looked worried though. Aragorn reasoned, "Yes, there is sparse population south. We have just come from there. It is unlikely to spread, worry not."

"I suppose," said Legolas, somewhat downcast.

He was not having a very enjoyable evening and he did not know why. His eyes cut briefly over to where Annabelle was seated, at another of the fires with some new friends she had made. She usually joined him and Aragorn at their fire, but it seemed they had been forgotten. She sat with an officer called Poider, an ambitious, middle-aged human who was a Captain of the Gondorian army. He was not someone that Legolas would fraternise with, there was just something about the man, but he supposed humans were different and maybe Annabelle saw something in the chap that he couldn't.

Aragorn noticed where his friend's eyes had wandered and said, "Do not worry about things mellon. In the morning we will be able to determine the story of this bushfire, and all will be well. Get some rest, eh?"

Aragorn decided to turn in for the night, rolling himself in his blanket and dropping off into slumber. But Legolas sat glumly staring at the fire, his keen sense of smell picking up a stronger smoke scent as time wore on. He kept glancing over at Annabelle, convincing himself he didn't care in the least who she spoke to.

At last he lay down, looking up at the stars. He heard her re-enter their camp area and lay down on her bedroll for the night. He pretended to be asleep until he heard her breathing become slow and regular, then eventually he dropped off himself.