Chapter 10
Mel settled onto the forest floor and took a bite out of an apple. The Fellowship's campfire danced merrily through the trees ahead, but she remained safely cloaked in darkness a good distance away. She had been following them for two days and no one seemed to have noticed. That was good. She wanted to be as far away from Rivendell as possible when they inevitably discovered her.
Mel finished the apple and took a swig from her water skin, glancing up at the sky. It was cloudy, no stars or moon shone through the tree branches. That was good too. Tonight she would try to sneak up and catch whatever conversation she could, to see if there were any course or pacing changes she needed to know about. She was grateful for the unseasonably warm breeze that brushed her skin as she shed her cloak and folded it neatly into her bag. After some thought, she unbuckled her sword as well. This was a stealth mission after all and the Fellowship weren't her enemy. She briefly considered leaving her boots behind, remembering how light and sneaky she had felt running barefoot through the woods around her house as a kid. But she only had to imagine the pain of removing a porcupine's worth of thorns and stickers from her feet to quickly scrap that idea. Safety before stealth after all.
She took her time stepping through the underbrush, forcing the slow, measured placement of her feet, well aware that any unusual or sudden sounds would alert Legolas' sharp ears. She slipped between the tree trunks, using them for protection from the fire's revealing glow until finally she got within earshot, pressing her back against the wide trunk of a yew tree and barely daring to breathe as she strained to hear what was being said.
"If the pass is open, we will take the Gap of Rohan." Gandalf murmured in his distinct gravelly voice.
"And from there turn east? There are several outposts where we might find rest and supplies along the road toward Gondor."
That was Boromir's voice. A smile tugged at Mel's lips.
"Gondor might be the course we will take, but let us see if the pass is open before we make any other plans."
"And what if it is not open?" Gimli asked gruffly, "There are paths under the mountain if we cannot find our way around."
Moria. Mel shivered and the yew tree shivered with her, the stiff leaves rattling as if in a soft wind. But there was no wind. Mel desperately pressed a hand to the trunk and shut her eyes, silently urging for stillness and quiet. The slightest movement might give her away. The tree subsided and it didn't seem like anyone had noticed, but the conversation had moved on while she'd been distracted.
"The little ones might fall behind, Gandalf," Legolas murmured with a hint of concern, "I have noticed how easily they tire."
"The hobbits are tougher than even they know. They will keep up." Gandalf reassured him.
"Still," Boromir said, his voice low and measured, "Slowing the pace might be beneficial… don't you think?"
There was a strange pause. Mel bit her lip. Did Boromir sound closer? Or had he only shifted positions to be better heard by the others?
"Yes… perhaps." Gandalf said finally.
Mel took a slow breath through her nose and prepared to move. She had learned everything she could tonight, and she needed to slip away while their voices could still cover her movement through the…
A gloved hand clapped over her mouth, pinning her to the tree trunk and she panicked, her mind screaming.
"Too soon, not yet, not yet!"
Out of nowhere, a bramble shot out of the ground by her feet and latched on to the gloved wrist, digging its long thorns through the thick leather and into skin. There was a pained yelp and Mel slipped free as the branches of the yew tree groaned and twisted, presumably to hold her attacker as she darted into the cover of the darkened woods.
"Melody?"
Boromir's strained, baffled voice pulled her up short. Of course he knew it was her, who else would it be? In her panic, she had completely given herself away. God, she was such an idiot…
"For gods' sake… Melody, will you call off your blasted plants?" he said, sounding more bemused than angry.
She sighed and closed her eyes, reaching out to the tree and the bramble with her mind.
"That's enough," she murmured soothingly, "No more. It's alright."
She heard the creaking of the yew tree as his branches unraveled and shuddered back into place, but the bramble resisted, a high pitched, indignant voice piercing her thoughts.
"Calenhiril, he hurt you! He frightened you! Why would you let him go?"
Mel felt the bramble try to tighten its grip and she clenched her fists, forcing her thoughts toward the thorny vine.
"I said, no more."
There was a breath's worth of pause. Then the bramble relaxed, albeit with a distinct sense of reluctance, and Mel felt it slither back into the undergrowth. She took a deep breath and stretched out her fingers, resisting the urge to shake tension out of her hands. Then she squared her shoulders and turned to face the suspiciously quiet campsite.
Boromir caught her eye first, rotating a shoulder and inspecting his ungloved wrist, spotted with drops of red that gleamed in the firelight. A pang of guilt clenched her chest and she took two steps toward him before she paused, fidgeting on the edge of the fire's glow.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice much smaller than she'd hoped it would be.
Boromir glanced up and his lips twitched in what might have been a smirk if it hadn't disappeared so quickly.
"You certainly took your time about it," he said, "I thought for a moment I might lose my hand to a briar, and how would I explain that?"
"Sorry," Mel said, cringing and waving in the general direction of the withdrawn bramble, "Panic got the best of me, I guess."
"What are you even doing out here?" he asked.
"Yes, what exactly are you doing out here?" Gandalf echoed, his gruff, irritated voice drawing Mel's gaze to the rest of the camp.
They were all staring at her, with expressions ranging from mischievous delight (Merry and Pippin looked like both their birthdays had come early) to furious outrage (Mel had to admit that Gimli's glower was very impressive).
Mel opened her mouth, and words that she had not planned came falling out.
"I followed you."
Legolas snorted (the most undignified sound Mel thought she'd ever heard him make), but quickly smothered any other hint of amusement with his hand when Gandalf turned his scowl in the elf's direction.
"Clearly," Gandalf said dryly, "But now it is time to put an end to your little adventure. You've had quite enough excitement and I'm sure Lord Elrond is quite worried about you…"
"Oh I doubt it," Mel said, "I'm sure his sons have told him what happened to me by now."
A peal of laughter escaped Legolas.
"Of course, it was them!" he said, "Of course! I should have known…"
"Never the less," Gandalf snapped, glowering at the elf-prince until his giggles died down again, "You should not be here, Melody. You know very well the danger that we face. I must insist that you return at once."
"I don't think so."
Gandalf's bushy brows shot up under his hat and Mel almost cringed, but resisted the urge.
"Pardon me?"
"I'm not going back," She said, forging ahead even though she thought her insides might be turning to mush, "And you can't force me without dragging me back yourself, kicking and screaming. We both know you can't afford the delay. You can't prevent me from following along either, now that I'm out here. I don't really see what kind of choices you have."
She crossed her arms (mostly to hide the fact that she was shaking) and met the wizard's stare for a full five seconds that felt like a breathless eternity.
"If I might interject," Boromir said hesitantly, "She does possess a rather unique set of skills. We've all seen her power at work. It might prove useful."
Gandalf hmphed and looked around the camp. The hobbits were all bunched together, watching the proceedings with wide eyes. Legolas still looked as if he would fall over laughing, given the opportunity. Gimli was puffing on a pipe and glaring fiercely in Mel's general direction. And Aragorn… well, he didn't even seem interested, sharpening a knife and apparently oblivious or unconcerned or both.
Gandalf's eyes narrowed, and then he sighed, his shoulders sagging, and rolled his eyes skyward.
"Why I was ever put on this path will forever be a mystery to me," he muttered, "Very well, Melody, you have made your point."
"Wait just a moment!" Gimli exclaimed, leaping to his feet and waving his pipe in the air, "Do you mean to say we are allowing her to stay?!"
"As has been pointed out, it seems we have little choice in the matter." Gandalf grumbled from under his hat, pulling his own pipe out of his sleeve and lighting it with a twitch of his fingers.
"Leave her here!" Gimli shouted, making Mel involuntarily wince, "Tie her to one of her precious trees, and good riddance!"
"I for one am not willing to leave a lady bound and helpless in the wilderness," Legolas said, his tone playful but sharp.
"Nor I," agreed Boromir, his eyes glinting, "You would be wise not to mention it again, dwarf."
Gimli's glare flitted back and forth between them for a long moment, and then he threw up his hands with a wordless sound of frustration and stomped into the woods. Mel bit her lip as she watched him storm off. This was not going to be the most pleasant trip. But she shook off her anxiety once he was gone and plastered a cheerful smile on her face.
"Right!" she said, her voice forcibly chipper, "I'll just go grab my stuff then."
"What?" Boromir asked, brow furrowed in confusion.
"My stuff," Mel said, jerking a thumb back into the woods, "What I brought with me, food, water, you know, stuff. Did you think I just ran out of Rivendell with nothing but the clothes on my back?"
"The thought had crossed my mind." Boromir said, smirking.
Mel rolled her eyes.
"I'll just be a minute." She said, and then slipped into the trees before anyone could protest.
She managed to make it all the way back to her tiny campsite before the adrenaline really hit her. She stopped in the middle of the clearing and took a few deep breaths, finally allowing her hands to shake and her knees to tremble under her. It was okay. Everything was okay. She had made it. And Gandalf hadn't even threatened to turn her into a toad or anything. She could do this. Do what, she wasn't exactly sure, but whatever it was, she could totally do it.
After a few minutes the adrenaline worked its way out of her system and she shook out her hands a few times to dispel the last of the tremors before she dropped to the ground beside her pack.
Something snapped loudly behind her and she whirled toward the sound. Aragorn stepped out of the trees and Mel relaxed. If Aragorn had snapped a twig in his path, he had done it as a courtesy, like knocking on the door. She managed a weak smile in his direction, but he did not return it. He only stared at her, his face half-hidden in shadows. It was unnerving and Mel turned back to her pack to keep from fidgeting in his presence.
"Did you need something? I'm almost done here, I just…"
"Why are you here, Mel?"
His voice was quiet, but the hint of suspicion was evident. Mel closed her eyes and took a breath through her nose. She could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. Aragorn approached and crouched down beside her. Mel stubbornly did not look up at him, instead concentrating on folding the blanket in her hands.
"It is not for the hobbits' safety that you have come," He said, "I see it in your eyes. You know the fate of each of us and you aren't concerned with them. So, why are you here?"
"I don't know," She snapped, finally letting her eyes jerk up to meet his, "I have no idea why I'm here, Aragorn, but here I am anyway and there's nothing I can do about it. I didn't ask to be dropped here. But I can't stand the thought that it was for nothing; that I'm meant to do nothing. So I'm doing something about it, the only thing I know to do. Which is more than you've done, Heir of Isildur."
He flinched almost imperceptibly and his jaw clenched, but Mel couldn't find it in herself to be sorry. She was tired, and she had a headache, and she'd had just about enough of people trying to tell her what to do like she didn't understand what was going on. Like she was stupid. Like she didn't already know…
"You want to talk to me about purpose, Aragorn? At least you have one. One that you've been avoiding longer than I've been alive. You come here and you act all high and mighty and mysterious, but you're no mystery to me. You're as lost as I am! And if you don't even understand yourself, how can you possibly expect to understand me?"
The Ranger's eyes were wide and he looked pale, his jaw still clenched tightly. Mel dropped her gaze back to the blanket crumpled in her hands.
"When you're ready to face your own fate, Aragorn, we can talk about mine." She muttered shoving the blanket into her bag, "Until then, just leave me alone."
She shoved her water skin into the pack and pulled everything together with a couple of hard jerks on the straps. When she looked back up Aragorn was gone, without even a broken twig to mark his passing.