"Won't I fall over?"

"Not if you keep your head up and your body in proper alignment."

"I don't think I can do this."

"Laredith, if you let that thought enter your mind, then it will come true. Now, sit up and concentrate on balancing. That is most important," Legolas instructed.

Sitting atop Arod, Laredith sat up straighter and lifted her arms, making them parallel to the ground. Sam had offered to let her train on Bill, his gentle pony, but it was clear that she had outgrown the smaller steed. The tall stallion was a more reasonable choice. Her hands shook, and Arod could easily sense her nervousness, causing him to dance around awkwardly. Fortunately, Legolas had a firm hold on the stallion's muzzle in case anything was to happen. Arod had plenty of patience, but if he knew his rider was uneasy, he would make it clear.

"You are not in control, and he is well aware."

"Then he is a wise creature," she grasped his mane again.

"You cannot allow him to establish dominance over you. As a master, that is your part."

"I know, but..."

His voice was soft. "This pattern of self-doubt will continue unless you choose to end it. If you decide to let it conquer you, then it will envelope you until you cannot breathe, and you shall falter. Have faith in the ability you possess deep inside. A key to kinship between horse and rider is trust, and you are not allowing yourself to do so. How can you learn to trust others if you do not learn to trust yourself? And, in turn, how can others learn to trust you?"

She lifted her head. The Elf had an extremely good point. She and the hobbits had developed a mutual respect for one another, so why should this be any different?

He could detect an understanding in her eyes. "Show me balance," he said.

Lifting her arms, she concentrated on finding her middle. It could be felt deep in the pit of her stomach, and she focused all of her energy there, evenly distributing her weight across Arod's backside. As she did so, her seat felt much more comfortable. Her pulse slowed, and the ground did not seem so far away anymore. Arod's ears flicked forward as her relaxation increased. Yes, this was much nicer. Taking another breath, she leaned forward and backward slightly, letting herself feel different positions. As she did so, Arod released a content sigh, and had ceased his awkward dance.

Legolas smiled. "Well done, milady. Now, I want you to ask him to walk on, but worry not: I will keep a hold on him. Apply pressure to his sides with your heels. Gently. Very good. As he walks, simply feel his rhythm, and let yourself move along with it." He led them to the edge of some woods, allowing her to adjust to the horse's movements. Her hands did not seek his mane again. Another good sign. They walked around for several minutes, Arod moving fluidly, and enjoyment finally marking Laredith's features.

"Very good. I believe that will do for today."

"Yes. Thank you, Legolas," she swung her leg over and slid off the stallion. "He is a good lad to learn on." Arod whickered, turning to nudge his head against her chest. She grinned, stroking his muzzle. "And you are aware of it, aren't you?"

Legolas would not speak it aloud, but the girl was unaware of how strong her kinship with horses already was. Arod would respond to no one the way he responded to her. It was proof enough that at one time, her connections with animal spirits must have been strong. As time moved on, she would come to know this fact.

Her dark blue eyes glanced at him. "I want to try again soon," she added brightly.

He nodded. "In due time. But now we must end our lessons until another day. I suspect Pippin is waiting for your return."

At the utterance of Pippin's name, she smiled and dashed back to the burrow. Arod looked after her longingly, as if to ask where she was going. This caused Legolas to chuckle. "Another time. Grown attached already, have you?" The horse gave a long sigh. Legolas patted him reassuringly. "Come. I have a promise to uphold."

The remainder of the afternoon found Legolas delving into his examination of the arrow. He rotated the white item in its cloth, taking great care to not let any portion of it touch his skin. The tip of it was still stained with Laredith's blood, which had turned a rusty brown color with time. Normally, he could tell what race or tribe had fired the weapon just by looking at it. There were distinct features on certain arms according to such factors: markings, feathers, even metals. Unfortunately, he could not decipher this one. Simply a small, white arrow, most likely crafted from the trunk of a white tree. He had not seen it before in his long life. It worried him; the thought of anyone wanting to harm the child was disconcerting. What had happened to her that night? And why? He studied it, sniffed at it, and slowly leafed through the book he had brought along with him. He always thought it wise to possess some form of Elvish wisdom whenever he journeyed, and his thoughts proved to be right again. Perhaps other questions could be answered through his studies.

Further down the hill, Pippin and Laredith sat amongst the tall grasses, lost in a long conversation. Every now and then, Legolas would glance up and momentarily observe the pair as they spoke. Even from this distance, he could detect the faint smile upon her lips, an indication the hobbit was in the middle of telling her some fascinating story while he smoked his long pipe.

He sighed peacefully, then turned when he felt an insistent nudge at his shoulder. Arod whickered softly beside his master. Legolas stroked his nose. "There is more to this ordeal than any of us realize."

His large ears flicked forward.

"You worry about her too, do you not?"

Arod whuffed into his palm.

"I know," he soothed. "I know, my friend." And with that, he returned his attention to the pages of the book.

----------

It always pleased Pippin to see Laredith so fascinated by his stories. He was even happier when she seemed to take a shine to tales about Gandalf. Though Sam had loaned her the written story of the One Ring, she continued to fire off question after question, wanting to hear every fragment of Pippin's experiences.

Because you were there, she had said, and to actually live must have been wondrous!

This gave Pippin more incentive than he needed. In all truth, he was glad to finally relay the tale to someone who truly cared. And believed. For the first time since returning home, he felt as if the accomplishments of four hobbits were receiving the credit they greatly deserved. Even if it was only the appreciation of this one girl. She would gasp if orcs entered the tales; cry when he went into detail about the death of Gandalf the Grey; smile at the resurrection of Gandalf the White; she would also want to re-enact particular moments, especially if they involved fending off enemies with swords.

But why do you want to fight with swords so much? Pippin would ask with a smile.

I do not know; I just do, she would announce, waving a long stick as a sword.

Of course, he never discouraged it.

Merry and Sam became avid storytellers as well. With Laredith's eagerness to listen, they found a new outlet for their incredible journey. Merry and Pippin would often form their own team, since they had banded together most of the quest. Then Merry would go on about his service to the lords of Rohan, and Pippin would contribute his service to the kingdom of Gondor.

Sam, on the other hand, was content to inform the child of the importance of Frodo, the Ring bearer. Laredith had sad eyes whenever he was mentioned: she could sense Sam's pain whenever he spoke of his long-departed friend. However, it gave him some degree of peace to reminisce on Master Frodo's deeds. Deep down, she wished Sam would explain more of his side to the tale. But she knew that in time, he would be content to elaborate on his own contributions.

----------

As sunset loomed closer, the stories once again drew to a close. Soon, they were joined again by Rose, Elanor, and Goldilocks, and the familiar group was whole again. Another fire was kindled, and the hobbits decided on sausages, cabbage and potatoes for dinner. Everyone settled around the warm blaze, enjoying conversation and company amongst each other, singing when the mood would strike, and glancing up at the star-studded night sky.

After a while, Legolas emerged from behind the burrow, the cloth and his book clutched in his hands. The hobbits and the girl smiled at his approach, but Laredith noticed something odd etched in his gaze.

Was it...concern?

As the hobbits continued to talk, Laredith approached him slowly. As if he could detect her thoughts, he met her eyes and smiled. Any strained expression that had been there had vanished.

Still…she wondered. "Is something wrong, Legolas?" She asked quietly.

"No, milady. I am simply looking forward to enjoying dinner with all of you," he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

She had her suspicions, but decided to shrug them off. Instead of immediately elaborating on worries, Legolas sat with them, accepting the plate of food they had saved for him. Much time was spent talking, not about negative events, but anything pleasant. Laredith played on the ground with the little ones, allowing them to climb on her back for horse rides, loving the squeals and giggles elicited from their throats. The others seemed to love it as much as the younger trio. As the conversations and games continued, Legolas could feel his heart stinging.

Just look at her smile, he thought. He did not want to be the one to ruin this joyous atmosphere, but he knew it was going to be inevitable.

With a quiet sigh, Legolas placed his plate on the ground. "I wish not to interrupt our evening with distressing news, but--"

"You have found something?" Sam cut in quickly.

The Elf nodded grimly. "Yes."

Laredith ceased rolling on the ground, pushing herself up into a sitting position, ready to listen. Rose called the girls over to her, though they did not quite understand the turn the evening was taking. Everyone looked at Legolas with wide eyes. Pippin exchanged glances with Laredith and Merry. It was hard to decide which emotion was present: hope? Despair? Excitement? Uncertainty?

Laredith swallowed. "What did you find, mellonin?"

His heart ached as she spoke his language, but he could not shield her from the truth. She would not want that. He placed the cloth on his lap, unfolding until the arrow was visible. Though no one noticed, Laredith shrank back slightly. "This arrow she was wounded with; you believed there was more to it."

"We suspected it was poisoned," Merry offered.

"Your suspicions have been confirmed. This arrow was poisoned using a plant known as Sylinar."

"Sylinar?" Sam said. "I've not heard of that one. What is it?"

"It is an unusual plant, so drab and ordinary in appearance that it is often mistaken for a type of weed. It has no blossoms, but does have thorns, and only those are poisonous."

"How potent is it?"

"Extremely. In many cases, it causes death. However, the poison is only fatal if injected directly into the heart. Otherwise it causes unpredictable health problems, such as seizures, intense sickness, infection--"

"Or amnesia," breathed Merry.

"Yes. Luckily, whoever shot her was less than accurate with his aim." He paused for a long moment. "Someone meant to kill this girl."

Dead silence settled around the fire. Pippin's eyes automatically turned to Laredith, whose face slowly drained of color. The sudden transition worried everyone sitting there. She looked as though she might be ill. Even from this distance, he could sense part of her withdrawing, seeking shelter within the deep recesses of her heart. She hung her head in an almost shameful manner. The Took stood and crossed to where she sat, taking a seat beside her. Their hands immediately sought one another's, though the silence lingered. The others dared not to disrupt anything, but watched the scene before them.

Pippin squeezed her hand, but he did not feel a response. "What have I done?" She asked weakly.

"Nothing that you could have had any control over."

"I did not want this...I feared this more than anything..."

Pippin did not want her to hide from him. Not from any of them. Placing a hand beneath her chin, he guided her eyes to his.

"Tell me what you are thinking."

She shook her head subtly. "I don't know," she whispered.

"I know that's not true. Tell me what you feel in your heart, in your stomach, your mind. Please."

Her lips trembled, and her eyes began to shimmer with tears. "I feel pain," she finally confessed. "I am frightened."

His heart went out to her. "I know. But there is no reason for it."

"Someone wanted to kill me."

The words made his stomach turn, but he pushed the sensation aside. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

But she shook her head harder. "Someone wanted me dead. What did I do to cause this to happen?" Her voice was filled with confusion.

He put his arms around her, and she felt as if someone had thrown a warm cloak over her body. She clutched to the small being, needing his comfort, needing a shoulder to shed tears upon.

"Have I put you all in danger?"

"Mama, why is she crying?" Came Elanor's innocent question.

It caused Laredith to glance at the little hobbit, make her wonder how such a young child could accept her at a time like this. Oh Elanor...

Merry instantly came over, joining in with the embrace. "No," he declared. "You have done no wrong to any one of us. Always remember that."

"I just keep thinking of Budoc Proudfoot's words, and how much they are coming true."

"No." Pippin said firmly. "What he said was disgraceful and wrong. I never want you to believe in such cruel statements. Budoc does not know you as we do. Why should his words matter so much to you?" Her breath stopped shuddering as she contemplated the inquiry.

Then it was Rose's turn to speak. "We care so very deeply for you, and we never want you to forget that. You're our Laredith."

She closed her eyes at the intense burn erupting in her heart. All they could do was show her that they would not let go. Ever. Legolas had rarely seen such an unbelievably touching sight.

She felt her heart pound with love, so hard that it hurt. "I'm scared."

Pippin held her tighter. "Fear nothing, Laredith. Do you hear me? As long as I am with you, fear nothing."

He wiped tears from her eyes, and reached up to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. The mere gesture meant the world to her. She clutched him close, letting his head rest against her heartbeat, which drummed rapidly within his ear.

Calm, he thought, trying to reach her mind with his, you must calm down. Let your worries be laid to rest, my child, and let the moon watch over you this evening.

Legolas, not wishing to ruin the moment, silently slipped back behind the burrow.

----------

The Elf spent much time examining the arrows in his quiver, making sure each was in proper condition should their need ever be required. Using a flat, smooth stone, he sharpened the tips in piercing points. Some of the feathers were given to him by Fiwen, which shone with her familiar honey color, even in the moonlight.

His gaze shifted slightly, and he suddenly saw Laredith from the corner of his eye. He had not even heard her approach. Returning the arrows to the quiver, he stood. "Milady."

She walked slowly to him, her arms hugging herself, though there was no wind to chill the air. He could not read the expression on her face.

He averted his bright eyes, now filled with guilt. "I apologize for any harm I have caused your heart this evening. It was not my intention to--"

"Thank you."

It caught him off guard. He had not expected the statement to come from her. "For what?"

She finally allowed herself a small smile. "For being honest. For helping me discover how it was that I lost my memory. You have answered many important questions. Pippin and the others do not care about what has happened to me in times before. They only care about the person I am. Who I will be. And that is a most comforting thought. Besides, it is I wanting to know the truth about my past. You are merely doing what I asked of you. And so, for that, I thank you."

"You are welcome. I am rather relieved; I thought you would never wish to speak to me again."

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "I would never wish that, mellonin. It is just as Pippin and the hobbits have told me. In the short time that I have known you, you have already become a dear friend to me." She licked her lips. "And if you will honor me so, I would like you to continue helping me."

She spoke so well for one so young, and her words were so genuine and kind. How could he refuse? He extended his hand. "If you ask it of me, I will do whatever I can to aid you in the quest for your past."

She smiled, accepting his hand with a gentle squeeze. They remained that way a long while, just letting the moonlight bathe them in a wan, pleasant light. They both felt warm.

She finally broke the eye contact. "Before I go to bed tonight, I did want to show you this," she indicated the sword hanging from her belt. Legolas had not even noticed it until now.

"This is Analol?"

"Yes," she traced her fingers over it lovingly. "I know the name is unfamiliar to you, but I want to show it to you regardless."

"I have been curious about this weapon, though. I will study it for you, child."

She unsheathed it smoothly, handing it to him by the hilt. She let her fingers skim over it a moment longer, but could feel slumber making her eyes heavy. "I must sleep for now, mellonin."

"Very well. Rest well, and I shall see you in the morning."

Before she retired to the tent, her hand was on his arm, giving him one last reassuring touch. He froze, just watching. Then she smiled warmly, turning to go to her quarters. He watched her go, a silhouette glowing with love and kindness in the dark. It was a wondrous site, indeed. His eyes followed her until the tent flap fell behind her.

Sighing, he sat again by the woods, Arod sleeping not far from his master. For a while, he looked the blade over, admiring the craftwork of the weapon. Whoever had made it certainly was gifted in the art of arms making. But as he focused on the inscription of "Analol," something made him stop. Look harder. Caused his heart to skip a few beats. He had found the tiny green leaf stamped on the blade, hovering above the inscription.

It was the first time he realized that the armory masters of Lothlorién had crafted the sword.