Disclaimer: I don't own LotR. (I think that got my point across quite quickly, eh?)

Author's Note: Please review! Please! I'm waiting to get past the 70+ review benchmark! I'll love you if you review! (And just to let anyone know who might be getting strange thoughts about this chapter…it is not slash. Men can be friends. Nothing in my story has slash in it. Just thought I'd let you all know!) All Elvish used in this chapter (and in most of my whole story) is Sindarin.

Pebbles: A new reader! Thanks for reading…and I'll be sure to mark you down on the Rogue/Legolas supporters list! :)

Xaneth: Another new reader! Goody! Thanks for reading my fanfic…and make sure to write you down as a R/L supporter, too! ::grin:: (Whew…those Boromir/Rogue supporters should start showing up or Legolas might actually win.

Sprite: Nah, I'm not one of 'those' authorisses! I just don't always go along with what my readers want! :D

Kiara: Thanks for reviewing again! :) And, yes, I do love the whole world…well, in moderation. LOL…cough sweets…

Mithrildragon: Heh heh…Rogue with Galadriel…that would be a hoot…

Saige: Don't worry about being crazy. I am too. :)

Chapter 21: Dreams And Things Like Them

I wanted to feel something
To be something To see something
I wanted to find one thing that was mine
And leave this behind
But I can't find my way
To get far away and bury these days
 -"Untitled", Fuel


Rogue laid down on the cole stone floor with her stomach facing downwards. With her arms gently cradled her head, she let her eyes slowly close. The first watch was up and Gandalf now sat solidly in his chair, his wise eyes watching the suspicious shadows. He kept his staff close at hand, with his wrinkled hands moving slightly out of stiffness.

Gandalf, in a strange way, made rogue fell safe. Something that she hadn't felt since she was little. But she wasn't little anymore…she had grown and didn't need that protection anymore.

The silence lulled Rogue into the space between consciousness and sleep. As her mind wandered around in the empty blackness, she began to lose any grip she had on awareness. Slipping gently into the eternal void that filled her mind, her breathing became more regular. Gandalf smiled, glad to know the girl had finally fallen asleep. She had not been getting the amount of sleep she should have been getting…and sleep was always needed during journeys such as this one.

A small elvish girl ran up to the two horses that were trotting down the road towards her small home. She wore a forest green tunic…one much like the elvish boys wore. Her disdain for dresses had grown over the years and she rarely wore them…save for the times that there was a festival or her father was taking her down to Rivendell.

The girl ran down the dirt road in bare feet, not minding the sharp pain the rocks and twigs gave her as they hit her flesh. She had a small hair tie wrapped around her wrist and her thick brown hair flew out from behind her as the wind caught it. Her eyes twinkled as she grew closer to the horses.

"Father!" She laughed jubilantly as she ran up to the chocolate mare. She was small…small, it seemed, for even her age. Just barely reaching the height of the horse's back, she half jumped into her father's arms while being pulled up by him at the same time. Her small arms wrapped around his neck as he chuckled at the girl's eagerness to see him.

The man had fine brown hair that closely matched the girl's…and even their eyes bore a great similarity. He had a tall, dignified stature with deep, kind eyes. He kept his shoulder-length hair in traditional elvish braids, keeping most of it out of his face. He had fair, alabaster skin…contrasting nicely with his hair.

"Tithen melith," he chuckled. The girl was still hugging him, her hair blowing gently in his face. 'Little love' was what he always called her. His voice was a lovely baritone, strong and loving…matching his physical appearance quite well. "I see you've missed me."

The girl finally let go of his neck, looking him straight in the eye. "Of course!" Looking over his shoulder, the girl finally caught sight of the two other riders that had followed her father. One man rode a silverish-colored horse while the other had a speckled grey and white mare. She squealed with delight as she recognized the rider of the silver horse, almost squirming out of her father's arms to be put down. The man began laughing and tipped his head at her in greeting. Meanwhile, her father was steering his horse to the stable that sat behind their cottage. He gently scooped the girl up, setting her down on the soft grass. Getting off himself, he led his horse into the stables, with the two other riders following quickly after him.

Coming out of the stables, the man stumbled back as the girl jumped up and hugged him. "Mithren-heneb dúnadan!"

The man was tall and his hair a blackish color, yet it was tainted with the speckles of silver and grey. His eyes were a strange grey color, yet it was common to find that of Men. He was tall…much taller than the girl...yet not quite as tall as her father. He stood three to four inches below the elf's height. " Anédia," he replied, chuckling.

As she let go of him, she turned to look at the strange man that stood at the doorway of the stables. He was young…in his twenties…yet he seemed to know much about life. His skin was dark…much darker than she had seen in Elithir before. He had almost no hair…although it seemed he shaved it off himself. His eyes matched his skin tone, yet were kind, just like her father's. But they did not hold the kind of calmness that her father's and the other rider's did. They seemed to show an excitement, a new adventure.

Anédia looked at him, slightly suspicious. He smiled at her, trying to not worry her. "Ah, g'day. Anédia, is it? I've heard a lot about you."

Her face broke into a small smile, showing perfectly white teeth. "You have?"

Anédia's father chuckled, watching the small exchange. "Anédia, tithen melith, this is Calirion. He's a friend of Arathorn."

Remembering the pleasantries her father had taught her, she nodded her head. "Nice to meet you." Turning to her father, she looked at him questioningly. "Why did they come with you?"

Kneeling down to be closer to her height, he looked at her straight in the eye. "We need to talk about somethings…"

"I orchoth?" She asked in elvish.

"Yes, melith, about orcs and other such things you don't need to trouble yourself with."

Suddenly, the girl seemed to be struck with realization. "Will you leave again?"

Smiling, her father gathered her up in his arms, resting his head on her shoulder. Closing his eyes, he spoke gently. "Later, yes. But not soon…"

Giving him a soft squeeze and then moving out of his arms, she smiled. Turning around, she saw that Arathorn held a long package. Grinning, he held it out to her as she scrambled to grab it. Moving over so that she could sit on the ground and rest her back against the stable's wall, she bit her lip as she tore of the plain parchment. Her eyes grew large as a long, curved sword sat before her. Looking up for a second, she muttered a quick 'thank you' and then raced off with sword in hand, further into the yard around the house.

"I hope you don't mind I gave her a sword, Vélad," he chuckled.

Standing up, the girl's father shook her head. "Even if I did, you wouldn't be able to tear her away from it to take it back. She already has daggers, however, and I suppose a sword won't hurt her too much. Now, the issue of the Ring needs to be discussed…"

Nodding, Arathorn readily agreed. "There isn't much we can do about it now, yet the future holds much promise…"

"Am I needed at this moment?" Calirion spoke up.

"I do not think so…" Arathorn replied.

Nodding his head, Calirion walked off. Leaving Vélad and Arathorn to discuss the ring, Calirion walked past beautiful, tall trees growing in lush grass. Finally, he came across the young Anédia fiddling with her sword. At that moment, she was waving it around, trying to 'sword' fight.

Laughing, Calirion walked up to her. "I believe if you fight like that with a sword, you are more likely to kill yourself than an enemy."

Turning her large eyes on him, she turned slightly pink. "Well…I…I've never had anyone teach me how to use a sword."

Smiling, he leaned against a tree. "I can teach you…but only if you answer a question first."

"What question?" she replied skeptically.

"What was it that you called Arathorn earlier?"

"Do you mean ' Mithren-heneb dúnadan'?"

Laughing, he nodded. "That's exactly what I mean!"

"Oh, it just means 'grey-eyed man'. I used to forget his name, so now I just call him that," she explained, grinning.

Walking over and crouching besides Anédia, he began the slow process of teaching the art of sword fighting.

"And why didn't we wake her earlier?" Boromir grumbled.

"Boromir," Gandalf softly warned.

A gentle touch on Rogue' shoulder slowly woke her.

"Mmmm…" she murmured in response, moving her head slightly.

Legolas's soft laugh reached her ears, forcing her to open her eyes. Her head was facing the empty far end of the room. All the sound was coming closer to the entrance, and so she slowly picked herself up with her arms. After wiping her eyes softly, trying to rid herself of the lingering sleepiness, she lazily got upon her feet and stood up. She walked over to where the Fellowship was sitting in a strange circle near the doorway of the room.

"I don't suppose anyone left any food for me?" she asked. The rest of the Fellowship was already feasting on a cold breakfast composed of salted sausage and bread. Sam smiled at the elvish girl and handed her a small helping of food.

"Thanks…" Rogue replied slowly as she took the food. Breakfast went on as normal, yet it was silent. Nothing had happened during the night, yet sleeping on the floor or in a chair had taken its toll on all of them. Soreness filtered into their arms and backs, allowing almost no muscle to go unnoticed. Yet they all were focusing on one thing - they would be, hopefully, out of Moria today.