Author's Note: Wow, a very exciting raffle for the double date! The two lucky and lovely ladies who won are... -drumroll!- The Queen of Confusion and ringbearingreasergal! Congratulations, my friends! :) Now you guys can fight it out for who gets Elladan and who gets Elrohir... But remember to dress up; it's a formal event!

"Opera is where a guy gets stabbed in the back, and instead of dying, he sings." -Robert Benchley

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – Mental Notes Go Mental

Meghan woke up the next morning feeling preposterously nauseated. She very rarely remembered her dreams, but this time seemed to be an exception. She half-wondered if this was some sort of punishment from the love-gods.

With a groan, she heaved herself out of bed and stretched, hearing several pops and cracks from various joints in her body. The thin mattress had made her half wish for a bed on the ground, but a mattress was a mattress, however lumpy it might be. And at least she hadn't needed to worry about a random bird pooping on her while she slept.

She ran a hand through her hair – and promptly got it stuck. She groaned again. Her hair must be the most impressive rat's nest that ever existed. If I keep this up, I'll have dreadlocks.

The best thing that she had for a hair tie was leather strip that Lalaith had given her all the way back in Lothlórien. She separated it as best she could, patted out the lumps, and pulled it into a half-back pollyanna. That was the extent of her hairstyling expertise. She was used to short hair, and here she had hair down her waist. Fingering the ends, she contemplated whether or not she really ought to cut it or not.

A rumble in her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything in quite a while, so she settled her cloak on her shoulders and went out the door. No one was out in the hallways, but she remembered the turns Éowyn had taken her down the night before. She soon found herself in the main hall again.

It was entirely transformed since the previous evening. Everybody seemed to be going through chests, selecting the most important things to pack into saddlebags and leather satchels. Meghan stared, perplexed, at all the hustle and bustle.

Éowyn spared her a tired smile as Meghan came up. "I thought that you had been told last night, or else I would have mentioned it." She hefted a heavy-looking bundle, handling it easily.

"Told what?" Meghan asked.

"We leave for Helms Deep this morning," Éowyn replied with an unreadable face. "My uncle has commanded that the city be forsaken to whatever evil wishes to defile it."

"I would rather see a city burn than watch people get eaten," Meghan said. "Orcs are nasty."

"I know what they are like!" Éowyn snapped, and Meghan remembered that her cousin had been killed by Orcs.

"I'm sorry," Meghan said. "I keep thinking I'm the expert on this stuff and I forget that you've lived it your entire life."

She could feel the tension easing out of Éowyn's body as the blonde's hands unclenched from the bundle she held. "And I am sorry," she said in a softer voice. "I should not have raised my voice."

"Oh don't worry. You can raise your voice all you want at me. Trust me, I grew up with four brothers. I can handle yelling."

A small flicker of kinship sparkled in Éowyn's big brown eyes. "Brothers are loud," she offered.

"Way loud," Meghan agreed, cracking a smile.

Éowyn seemed to be about to return the smile, but she suddenly withdrew into her shell, as though she realized that she was getting rather chummy with one of those mysterious Elves. Her face went carefully blank and she returned to her work.

Meghan sighed. Well, I guess it's not fair to expect her to be my best friend on the second day. Curse these pointy ears! She reached up and touched them. It still felt strange to have such alien ears. Then she made a mental note to ask Aragorn why the Rohirrim didn't like Elves.

"I advise you to go and gather your belongings," Éowyn said in a voice that wasn't quite aloof or congenial. It was sort of a mixture of both.

"Right," Meghan said. "Excellent idea. I'll be off then."

She couldn't help but feel dismissed as she turned toward the door that led back to her room. On a sudden whim, she spun on her heel and headed in the direction of the little side entrance that opened to the front portico. Once outside, she saw what seemed like the entire population of the city scurrying about on various errands. She soon spotted Aragorn walking from the stables toward her, and she waved at him.

"Good morning, Meghan," he said, coming up the last few stairs to stand by her.

"G'morning," Meghan replied. "So exactly what is going on? Éowyn said something about Helms Deep. What is that?"

His shoulders had a determined set. "It is a fortress to the northwest of Edoras. King Théoden does not wish to leave his people unprotected in the city."

There was a bit of a troubled look on his face, and it prompted Meghan to ask, "And we'll be safe in Helms Deep?"

"The king is certain that nothing can breach the walls," Aragorn said.

Meghan smiled cynically. "They said the same thing about the Titanic."

"You will be safe if you stay with Legolas and me."

"Thanks," Meghan grinned, suddenly heartened by his promise.

"And, as for Legolas, did he seem unwell yesternight? He was very…" Aragorn searched for the right word. "…Distracted this morning."

"You don't say," Meghan laughed awkwardly. "He's probably just nervous or something." Yeah, but nervous about what?

Aragorn frowned. "He does not appear to be one who is anxious before a battle."

"Aha! So you admit that there probably will be a battle!" she crowed triumphantly.

"Lower your voice." He stepped closer and continued in an undertone. "It is Gandalf's belief that Saruman means to destroy Rohan. Stone walls and untrained soldiers will be hard put to keep Orcs out of the Keep."

Meghan sobered. "But I have faith in you."

It looked like Aragorn would have liked to have said something, but instead he rubbed his eyes with one hand and sighed. "I must go. Have you yet readied for our departure?"

"No, but I don't have much to do. Are we walking or riding?" Half of her wanted him to say walking because the horse had given her some very interesting soreness, but on the other hand, walking was just plain exhausting.

"I believe that Legolas meant for you to ride Arod, but if the horse has already been claimed, you may ride Brego."

"Wait a minute, Prego?" Meghan interrupted. Sudden images of a tomato sauce horse entered her head.

"Brego," Aragorn said mildly, emphasizing the B. "We will leave soon. The Rohirrim are nearly ready."

Meghan wasn't quite sure what to say, but Aragorn was already walking into the grand main entrance, wherein no doubt he would discover a slightly testy Éowyn and lots of barrels and chests. Making a new mental note to thank Aragorn for offering his horse, Meghan trotted down the stairs and headed for the stable.

Even in the stable, activity hummed. Men were busily saddling the horses and then filling their saddlebags. A few horses were being hitched to rickety looking wagons and led outside, where Meghan assumed the families would fill the wagon with foodstuff and valuables.

She was still looking around for Arod when Legolas came up beside her. In fact, he was so quiet that she wouldn't have noticed him at all for a moment if Gimli hadn't been with him. Haldir was right. Gimli does breathe very loudly. Oh god, Haldir. Her groan at the recollection earned her a raised eyebrow from Legolas and a grunt from Gimli.

"Are you well, lassie?" the latter rumbled.

Despite her objections to being called a name that was reminiscent of a large dog that often saved the day, Meghan kept her voice even. "I'm fine. I just remembered something that I need to think about. How are you?"

"Ready to leave this place," Gimli said. "I like the sound of a stone fortress."

Legolas' tone was the same blend of reserve and friendliness as Éowyn's. "The journey will take a better part of the day. I have already saddled Arod for you."

"Thank you. Speaking of which, do you know when we are leaving?" Meghan limited herself to asking. In fact, she would have liked to ask several more questions, including, Are you really in love with me? When will you admit it? How does your hair stay so perfect all the time?

"Soon," Legolas answered.

"Thanks for being specific," Meghan said.

Legolas seemed determined not to get into another argument, and he replied in a carefully smooth tone of voice. "I am not in the inner circles of the King's council. He will leave whenever he wishes."

"Come, elfling," Gimli grunted. "We must get the saddlebags." The Dwarf seemed quite oblivious to all this romantic tension.

Legolas inclined his head briefly to Meghan, but he did not say anything as the pair left. Meghan heaved a sigh, then belatedly remembered that she still had Legolas' arrows in her room.

I'll make a mental note, she thought sourly, then sighed. This is getting ridiculous. Mental notes don't even work.

She decided to take up Éowyn's advice and collect her belongings. The main hall of Meduseld was considerably less crowded as she wended her way through the clutter and back to her room. There was no sign of Éowyn or Aragorn, either.

Her little bedroom was much more cheerful now that some sunlight streamed through a slightly grubby window above the bed. But there wasn't very much to do, either. All of her things were still in the little bag by the door.

Still, she strapped it all onto her back, including her bow and quiver. His arrows were longer by seven or eight inches, and Meghan vaguely wondered if they made her look like she had antennae from a front view. She sniffed. Fine time to become self-conscious.

Pausing to straighten the dusty blanket atop the bed, she retraced her steps back to the windy sunshine. It seemed as though the activity was calming out in the courtyard, too. More people were standing passively beside handcarts and horses than there were running around still preparing. Meghan even caught a glimpse of the king, whose name she could not remember despite the fact that Aragorn had just said it earlier.

Meghan sat down on the bottom step, feeling useless. She let her head fall into her hands. The only person that she normally would have talked to at that moment would have been Legolas, but that didn't seem like an option. Of course he had to go and fall in love with me. Moron. And why the crap won't he say anything? She closed her eyes to block out the sight of the unforgiving stone underneath her.

Maybe he's keeping quiet for my own good. Maybe there's something disgustingly wrong with me and something terrible would happen if Legolas and I ever got together. Maybe I'm going crazy. Maybe he's not in love with me at all. Maybe he knows something that I don't. Maybe it's because I'm not from this world.

She sighed. This internal dialogue was doing nothing for her. For all she knew, Legolas could be right. All he had done was help her off the horse, and then he had been very tired last night and had forgotten his arrows.

"This is absurd," she groaned. "I'm acting like Andrea, but a thousand times worse."

A carefully cleared throat made her look up, only to see the very object of her contemplation standing with Arod's reins in his hands.

"The Rohirrim are leaving," he said smoothly.

Meghan narrowed her eyes at him. If he really was in love with her, he could win an Oscar for his performance to the contrary. "Okay," was all that she said.

"I see that you retained my arrows for me," Legolas said, nodding at her quiver as she stood and testily peered into Arod's dewy black eyes.

"Oh yes," Meghan said a little too quickly. She reached behind her, feeling for the longest arrows, and started to pull them out. "I guess you forgot them or something last—OW!" A sharp pain on the back of her left hand cut her sentence short. She yanked her hand into her vision, and immediately covered it with her other.

As she had been drawing the last of Legolas' arrows from her quiver, she had pulled the sharp arrowhead over the knuckles of her other hand, which she had been using to hold her own arrows in the quiver. Now it was quickly soaking crimson over both of her hands.

"I— I think—" Her stomach did a peculiar little cartwheel just before heaving. In a sudden moment of decision, Meghan resolved not to throw up in front of Legolas again.

So she clenched her teeth and darted away.

Her mad dash at relative freedom found her behind the stables, throwing up every last morsel of food she had ever eaten in her entire existence. And after that came dry heaves, especially after she reached up to put a hand to her forehead and found a coating of blood on her palm.

After not too long a time, she heard the featherlight footfalls that only a cat or an Elf can manage, and she groaned. That was the whole point of running away, so that he doesn't see!

"May I see the laceration?" His voice still had a touch of that careful neutrality in it, but despite the conservative words, he sounded concerned.

"I guess so," Meghan said, squinching her eyes tightly shut and extending both hands in his general direction.

He lightly took them both, and she could feel him turning her left hand this way and that as he looked at it. "It will not need sutures," he said after a minute. "It is a gash across the skin, but nothing was severely damaged. The incision will bind itself up on its own."

Now he was wiping away the drying blood and wrapping something long and soft around her left hand. Meghan sucked in a breath, about to open her eyes.

"No, do not yet. There is still blood on your other hand. And your forehead."

Great, now he's a mind reader.

He quickly rubbed the blood from her hand and forehead, and she blinked her eyes open to see him smiling bemusedly at her. She fought down a grimace. Some impression she was making.

"We should hurry to rejoin the others," Legolas said, abruptly becoming distant again. "We should not keep them waiting." And just like that, his back was to her and he was striding away.

Meghan thumped the stable wall with her fist. "This is too complicated!" she muttered angrily at the dirt.

"Meghan?" The sound of Aragorn's call drifted around the corner.

"Coming!" Meghan trotted back into the courtyard.

"Come, it is time to leave," Aragorn said. "Did Legolas secure a mount for you?"

"Yes," Meghan said.

Right on cue, Legolas came over with Arod. He wordlessly lifted Meghan (who squawked in protest) into the saddle, and just as wordlessly walked away again.

Aragorn eyed Meghan dubiously.

"It's a long story," Meghan sighed in reply to his look.

COMING NEXT TIME!

Will Meghan actually get something to eat? Will the romantic angsty tension never cease? Will Meghan ever figure out what to do with Haldir?

02.01.08