Chapter Ten

As Frodo and Sam finished their furiously whispered conversation some ways away, Merry and Pippin threw their apple cores into the fire where they sputtered and steamed. Aragorn was silent, thoughtfully watching Sam and Frodo, while Gandalf and Gimli quietly discussed the next day's rations and route. An unnatural quiet seemed to settle on the group as they waited for the return of Boromir and Legolas. If anyone had heard the sobs carried on the still night air, they did not mention it. In the shadows insects fluttered, occasionally darting through the low flames of the fire. Merry lazily swatted at a few near his head.

Strange, he thought to himself, I wouldn't have thought that Boromir and the elf would have become such good friends in such a short time. They both seem so aloof.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. He noticed that Aragorn had his sword to hand and furtively gripped the hilt. Sam and Frodo stopped talking, Sam looking sullen and Frodo determined. Boromir and Legolas stepped gently back into the circle of the camp, the man looking somewhat damp, but also as though a great weight had been lifted from him. Merry, glancing at the Ranger, noticed that he did not loose his grip on his weapon until Legolas gave him a tiny nod.

Frodo pushed Sam forward. The stout hobbit glanced back once at the grim face of his master, then swallowed.

"Your pardon, Boromir," he began. "I spoke out of turn earlier. No hard feelings, I hope."

"None at all, Sam." Boromir replied with a note of contrition in his voice, pushing his wet hair back. "Your loyalty and love for Frodo is demonstrated daily. To you, ours must still be tested. It does you credit, your protection of him."

Sam blushed at this and looked startled. "Well said, Boromir!" Merry exclaimed, jumping up. "Shake hands, Sam, and let bygones be bygones."

Sam searched the man's face and saw the exhaustion there. His eyes flickered to the elf, noted the small smile, looked back to Boromir.

"Thank you for understanding," he said simply. He held out his small hand, which Boromir grasped and shook heartily. A collective wave of relief swept through the group.

"I think this evening's been more tiring than the days march." Pippin said, stretching. "I'm for bed."

"So am I, Pip." Frodo said, moving over to his gear. He glanced at Boromir. "Thank you for the lesson," he said, a grin on his face. "I've learned that Sam is worse than anything you could do to me."

Gandalf chuckled at that. Boromir managed a wan smile. He felt drained, tired, and yet curiously light. The weight of all the pain and fear that had been crushing down on him had been wept out, leaving him with a sense of hope and delicate happiness. He knew that he could lay down his life for Frodo at that moment, and the feeling was warm and comforting.

"I think we should all turn in," Gandalf said, tamping out his pipe. "I'd like a hot breakfast in the morning, Sam, if you don't mind." Sam nodded at the old wizard, pulling Frodo's blankets closer to the fire.

"I'll take first watch, Legolas." Aragorn said, his face carefully blank. "I'd like to work out a few kinks in my legs. Pippin managed to get a stroke at me." The hobbit looked proudly at Merry, who sighed.

Legolas nodded affably and placed the full waterbag by Sam's kit. He settled by the fire, sitting cross-legged and relaxed as the others settled down. Aragorn stood and shook his head, as if trying to clear the cobwebs, and left the camp, silent and invisible, once past the dim light of the dying fire.

Gimli took his usual place to one side of the hobbits. Gandalf stretched his long legs out and turned, finding his foot impeded by a fallen branch. Legolas rose and removed the offending limb and the wizard smiled his thanks. Within moments his quiet snores joined the noises of the night.

Boromir shrugged out of his tunic and shirt, hanging the damp articles up to dry in the branches of the tree above him. Legolas, his attention caught by the motion, watched the man, fascinated by the way the firelight glistened off the hair on the man's torso. Swatting at insects, Boromir wrapped himself in his cloak and lay down, his blankets bunched up as a pillow under his head. He smiled once at the elf, a real smile, then closed his eyes. He continued smiling, even as his breath evened out and slowed.

Legolas turned, noticing that Sam was having trouble getting comfortable. Usually the hobbit lay still until Frodo was asleep, as if guarding him to the last. Tonight, though, he continued to turn and toss, moving about. The elf was about to ask if there was anything he needed when Frodo's voice broke the silence.

"Will you sing something, Legolas? If you're not going to sleep right away, that is. I think it would help us all to relax."

"And not that one about the bloody horses again." Gimli interrupted. "We've heard that one too many times as it is."

Merry giggled at that. The horse song, while beautiful, did have a tendency to stick in one's head. Gimli had found himself humming it several times over the past few days. When he stopped, Pippin would begin humming it himself, setting the dwarf off again.

Legolas, stripping the bark from the fallen branch, arranged himself and began to sing quietly in Sindarin. Boromir, drifting in that blissful place between wakefulness and sleep, heard it and woke slightly, caressed by that soft voice and the unfamiliar words. Feeling more secure than he had in ages, he allowed himself to relax completely. He felt the elf's eyes on him, smiled again and drifted.

When Legolas had finished singing, Sam asked, in a gentle voice, "What was it about? It was wonderful!"

"Caterpillars." Frodo whispered, amused. There was a short bark of laughter from the dwarf. Sam sat up on his elbow.

"You're kidding me!" he said, louder than he meant. He lowered his voice. "Those grubby worms on the cabbages?"

"Shhh!" Legolas hissed, his eyes on Boromir. The man appeared to be sleeping. "Not quite, Sam. It's a lullaby. It's about the struggle the caterpillar goes through to become a butterfly. It teaches that even though the caterpillar must go through pain and toil, it transforms itself into something incredible."

"Oh," Sam said, settling down again. "That makes sense, then." He rolled over. "Thank you, Legolas."

Legolas sang again, his voice low and melodious. One by one he heard his companions slip into sleep. He sat, quietly, watching Boromir, then the fire, then the man again, until Aragorn returned from his patrol. He sat beside the elf, stretching his feet to the fire to dry his boots. Legolas got him a cup of water and watched the Ranger drink. Then his eyes strayed back to the sleeping man.

"Are you worried?" Aragorn whispered in Sindarin. The elf looked at him, startled to see a grin on the Ranger's face.

"About what?" Legolas asked, suddenly embarrassed.

"Him." Aragorn nodded toward the cloak-wrapped form. "Lullabies?" Aragorn raised an eyebrow.

"It was for Frodo." Legoals retorted, resenting the tone in his friend's voice.

"Of course it was," Aragorn replied smoothly. "How is he?"

"Frodo? He seemed fine." Legolas told him, confused.

"You know who I mean." Aragorn said, pulling out his pipe and packing it.

"This is hard for him. He's always done what his father wanted him to, you know." Legolas lit a bit of twig and handed it to the Ranger. Aragorn lit the pipe and took a few contented puffs.

"And you?" he asked the elf. "You're not becoming distracted, are you?"

Legolas tossed his head, sending his braids flying. "How can you ask that? Don't you trust me?"

Aragorn held up his hand. "Take it easy." He took a long drag on his pipe, blew a few smoke rings. "I swear, you're getting more like your father every year."

"Go to bed, Aragorn. I think you're overtired from the watch last night." He stood up abruptly. "I'll take care of things. Don't worry."

Aragorn chuckled to himself as the elf stormed off into the trees.