III III III
:::
In the silence that ensued after Pippin had left the room, Anne could hear a gentle pattering on the window; the clouds that had been threatening the town all day were finally releasing their burden.
"Will you do me the courtesy of looking me in the eye at least?"
The elf's voice was as cool and soft as silk. Anne, finding it very difficult to lift her head, all of a sudden, did not obey at once.
"Look at me!" Legolas said sharply.
Wincing, Anne looked up at him – only to involuntarily drop her gaze back to her hands at once, after seeing how darkly he was looking at her. She rather sensed than heard his movement as he stood and closed the gap between their chairs with two long strides.
Out of the corner of her eyes, Anne saw him bend down slightly. Before she could think of anything to say or do, he had grabbed her around the chin, and was forcing her head upwards, so she had no choice but to look at him.
Her heart appeared to skip several beats.
There was a spark of cold fury in his eyes that she had not quite expected – even while knowing fully well that she had behaved stupidly. She felt her pulse quicken against his hand.
Despite herself she looked away from his eyes, focusing her gaze on his hair instead, which was gleaming softly in the firelight like dark, polished wood. She vaguely noticed that it appeared to be damp.
"How did this happen?" Legolas now asked calmly, though cold anger was still palpable in every syllable, "Who did it?"
Anne, who had already opened her mouth to respond – though, whether in order to try and defend herself, or to wail and pathetically beg for forgiveness, she was not quite sure – stopped herself, frowning slightly.
While his first question she had expected, the second one did not seem to make much sense, somehow.
'Who did it', what was that supposed to mean? If Legolas had indeed been told everything that had occurred by Pippin, then he knew exactly who had 'done it'. Was this some sort of punishment, she warily wondered – acting as if he did not already know, only in order to force her to tell him about the whole disaster herself?
Or, was this possibly some sort of strange 'learn from your mistakes'-moment, and he was trying to be kind by giving her the chance to admit to it all?
Somehow she suspected not.
Hoping to, perhaps, gauge some of the elf's intends and purposes from his expression, Anne surreptitiously glanced up at his face. With deepening confusion she saw that he was not, in fact, meeting her eyes – he was inspecting some point on the left side of her forehead, so it seemed.
Interpreting her silence correctly, no doubt, his eyes sought hers for a brief moment, before flicking back towards her brow.
"Who did this?" he repeated, more slowly than before, as if talking to a slightly thick-witted child. Although he was still looking grim, his tone was softer this time, and less sharp.
Suddenly Anne realised what he was talking about - the bump on her temple, from when she had hit her head on the ceiling, that afternoon. She had completely forgotten about it, let alone thought that there still might be visible evidence. Trust an elf to immediately spot it though, she suspected.
"No … nobody did," she finally croaked out, "I mean, well … I did, I hit my head."
"Ah … I see," muttered Legolas, his face seeming to relax – although Anne was not sure whether she was not imagining things now.
He was still frowning slightly, tilting his head, as if to assess the damage she had caused. "It is swollen, and there is a little blood in your hair. How could you not have noticed that?"
Perhaps it was just her excessively guilty conscience, but Anne thought he almost sounded a little accusing.
"Well, I did not do it on purpose, if that is what you are asking," she said with a tad more exasperation than she had intended, while dropping her gaze back towards her hands. Immediately she was convinced that she could feel his glare, like an icy breeze.
Anne wished the ground would open up and swallow her. She also wished he would let go off her face already, and stop staring at her like this.
He promptly did her the favour – then took a step backwards and folded his arms in front of his chest.
"Yes, I did assume so," Legolas said, regarding her coldly. "Although I shudder to ask what else you have been up to this day."
He both turned and stepped back towards his chair in one, flowing movement, and sat back down.
"Nothing," Anne muttered. "Well, that is to say … nothing apart from what I … from what you already know, I mean."
She glanced at his face, which was unreadable.
"You … you have heard all about it, I suppose?"
"Did you expect me not to?" he asked incredulously.
"Well, no – I, er -"
"When I returned, two of the serving wenches were sitting in the main parlour, busily gossiping about your performance, for a start."
Anne groaned inwardly, suspecting (rightly) that she had probably not come out the hero in that account. She felt nerves and shame bubble up inside her once more, and her next words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
"In that case, I should probably be surprised that you are not more angered –"
"I am angered, make no mistake about that!"
Legolas had barely raised his voice, yet his words seemed to cut into her like blades. Anne involuntarily drew up her shoulders and found herself staring at the cheerful pattern of the carpet to her feet.
"Not only were you foolish enough to let yourself be goaded into speaking of a private and very grave business of mine – which one might at least try to excuse, or explain with that hotheadedness of yours – but also you are giving me the impression that you are not even taking this entire episode all that seriously, or are paying indeed much heed of any advise or warning you have been given. And for you, now, to speak so blithely about -"
"You are right."
Legolas fell silent, although Anne's interruption had been barely above a whisper.
"I am sorry. It was a stupid thing to say," she went on, her throat still feeling rather tight, "But – please – believe me, I am not being blithe. Far from it, really. If it does indeed seem that way to you - that is to say, if I seem that way - then that is only because I find this all a little … I find it difficult to …"
Casting around for words she spread her hands in a helpless gesture, as if hoping to wordlessly express her feeling of strange detachedness and alienation to him. She had, in fact become more and more aware of it during the afternoon, in the quiet and seclusion of her room. I seemed to make little sense, and that confused and scared her a little. She could not remember ever having felt as lonely and out of place during these past weeks of travel as she was feeling now – despite being surrounded by people.
She was also fairly certain that it was not simply a matter of not wanting to 'fit in', or to get along with the Breelanders, because – and she felt that very strongly – she did wish to belong. She wanted to have friends, people she could trust to tell about her feelings and secrets, or even just to gossip, and tell each other stories.
She wanted to be a part of something – anything.
Was she being unreasonable? Perhaps this was too much to ask for. Perhaps, after everything that had happened, she was supposed to be glad to be alive, to be cared for even, and to be more or less looked after. It did not change the way she was feeling, however.
Not that she was going to admit any of this to Legolas, she thought, being aware of the fact that it would sound childish, if not ungrateful. She looked at the elf's face, took in the slight frown, the tension of skin around his mouth, making it clear that he was still angry at her. However, there also seemed to be something akin to sympathy in his expression – or, at least, Anne thought there was.
She took a deep breath, before carrying on, "Forgive me. It was not my intention to anger you even further. If my behaviour seems … odd to you, it is because … well, because I am a little hot-headed, maybe, I do not know. I certainly seem to say the wrong thing, or do something inappropriate in the wrong moment often enough. It was the same thing this morning. The truth is – after Pippin had spoken to them, I had already begun to think that it might, yet, turn out all right, but then …"
She ruefully shook her head, still mad at herself.
"I could not … I know, it was the stupidest thing to do, even if it had not been for the way those Dunlanders had attacked me. I was telling that to myself even then, but I just …," she sighed, glancing up at him, "I became so furious - I felt sick to the stomach with it. I am sure it must sound terribly immature and childish to you, but …" She shrugged helplessly, giving up on explaining.
"Pippin mentioned something to me about the differences between mortals and elves … how we are less - 'level-headed' than you are, because we lack your wisdom of all your years. I suppose that must be true, or, at least in my case it is."
Legolas, who had listened to her in silence until now, was giving er a stern look.
"I am not trying to excuse what I did with being mortal," Anne added hurriedly, "That was not what I meant at all – nor that I would dream of saying the same thing about … well, Pippin himself for example."
Legolas nodded slowly by way of acknowledging her amending her words. "I would think not. I have known many brave and noble mortals - both Men and Hobbits - and Pippin being one of them. I have met Women and men, who possessed courage and wisdom alike, and also the willpower to do the right thing when it is needed – even if, at times, that means to stay silent when their hearts might tell them to speak, or refrain from doing something that they know to be an ill choice – no matter how right and just it might seem at the moment they were presented with it."
Anne nodded awkwardly; while realising that she deserved everything he was throwing at her (and the truth was, she had actually expected the whole thing to turn out much worse, it had to be said), she still could not help the slight stinging of wounded pride at his words – as ridiculous as she knew that was.
There was another small pause before the elf continued; his tone sounded hesitant and also, for some reason, a bit tense.
"You spoke of the Dunlanders attacking you. Was that when you hit your head?"
Anne looked up at him in some bewilderment, before she understood what he was referring to.
"What? Oh, no. No, that happened in my room, there is a steep ceiling …" Anne began to explain, and then hesitated for a brief moment, not wishing to appear any more idiotic to him, than, no doubt, she already did.
"I was startled by some noise, and hit my temple at the ceiling," she said finally. It was sort of true, after all.
"I did not mean 'physically attack', but rather with words. They were not exactly … restraining themselves," Anne muttered. "Those awful things they said. How they spoke of … it was part of the reason, why I … ah, well, you know …"
Legolas looked at her for a moment, and then shook his head.
"Aside from my part in all this, I do hope you understand what sort of plight you have landed yourself in. The Breelanders are indeed not likely to forget about all this any time soon."
"I realise that," Anne said quietly. "I have been thinking about it all day – wishing I could somehow make all my words undone."
"Sometimes they cannot be."
Legolas considered her huddled-up form for a moment, and then sighed.
"I would ask you what, in the name of all good powers of this world, you thought you were doing, but - as I understand - Pippin has already seen to that for me."
"Oh, yes, he did," Anne said swiftly, "Although, in truth, he needed not have said it, perhaps. Even without him telling me, I knew exactly –"
"No, I am certain that it needed to be said," Legolas cut across her tartly.
Anne swallowed and then nodded, attempting to look suitably chastised without looking shamefaced – and failed. When he saw her hang her head, Legolas sighed.
"Mayhap I am also not without blame. It is easy to forget, sometimes, how young you are. There are, no doubt, things I was at wrong to ever have let you know – or even to let you guess at them.
Anne was not sure whether these words were supposed to be comforting, but the tone of weary indifference, and cold acceptance in his voice – like she had acted every bit as untrustworthy as she was to be expected – was, somehow, hurting even more than his anger.
"I am sorry," she said again, in a small voice, "Truly."
She could rather feel than see him regarding her closely for several moments – and suddenly found herself wishing she were wearing several more layers of clothes. She was also incredibly annoyed with herself for the unshed tears stinging in her eyes. They were tears of shame, hurt, faint humiliation, but also the hint of the feeling of being treated unfairly, and probably a dozen other things. It was all she could do to keep herself from angrily wiping at her eyes. Something told her that dissolving into hysteric bawling would leave the elf rather unimpressed – to say the least.
When, at last, he spoke, his tone was, albeit still serious, gentler than it had been for the entire conversation.
"Perhaps, then, we can leave it at this."
Anne lifted her head, even forgetting that her eyes were still wet, and stared at him, not quite daring to hope that this had been it.
"There is little sense in wasting both our time by repeating what you already have been told, would you not agree? I do hope you will take this to heart, though."
He looked at her sternly.
"You must learn to hold your tongue, girl, or it will be a mere matter of time before you find yourself faced with someone less forgiving. I have made myself clear, I trust?"
Anne nodded mutely. Legolas scrutinised her face, while picking up his cup and sipping from it.
"There is also something else I need to discuss with you," he finally said, "I admit that I did indeed consider whether you might have done all this on purpose, for not wanting to stay here –"
With a quick wave of his hand he cut her muffled protest short.
"I do not, in truth, believe that now. However, if it were – you might just be granted your wish."
He noted her staring up at him, uncomprehending, and sighed.
"The situation would be similar, albeit undeniably less grave, had not chosen to scream at that man, thus I do not blame you. As I have told you already, this is nothing I would have chosen any more than you. Yet, in a way, you are my responsibility, and therefore I cannot leave you in this town, if there is a chance of any harm coming to you – not unless it were your explicit wish, of course."
Anne blinked at him. "You … think that the Breelanders might –"
"No. According to what happened today, though, the villagers are not the only ones to be reckoned with."
It took Anne a moment to recover from this surprise. As it sank in, she became aware of other feelings. Relief? Anticipation? Fear? Hope? Or, perhaps, it was all of them? Finally, she trusted herself to speak again, still gaping incredulously at the elf.
"That means that … you would take me back? All the way?"
"I do not bounce at the prospect, I assure you," he replied coolly, "However, I will be riding with others on my way back, which means I will be slowed down considerably as it is - with or without you. You could travel with us as far as Rhovanion only, and there is a great chance you will not be able to return to Carrockton. Therefore you possibly would have to stay in the woodland realm. Since we do not know what happened in Laketown, it is too early to make any plans from there, but, should the option of returning there present itself, it is possible that some of my people can take you."
Anne was not quite sure what to say to this – or how she was supposed to feel about it, for that matter. It all happened so sudden. She had already resigned herself to having to stay here for good, and now … She also felt faintly curious as for who those 'others' might be, Legolas had said he would be travelling with, but knew better than to ask him just now.
So far, Bree had at least turned out to be anything but boring, that was for sure.
"I … this is … thank you –"
"Do not thank me. I am offering you the option, merely, the decision lies with you. We shall leave by tomorrow afternoon, so you only have till then to think about it."
"Tomorrow … so soon?"
"I understand this is sudden, but I cannot afford to linger for your sake. Consider it as carefully as you may, but also bear in mind that, what I have said to you concerning your acting applies, no matter where you are."
Anne nodded, feeling somewhat glumly again.
"I know."
"Well, then." Legolas regarded her intently for a moment. He then set down his cup on the table, and went on, "No matter how you may decide, there are two things I shall ask of you. Before that, however - I would like you to show me that necklace, which apparently started this whole exploit."
"The … yes, all right," Anne stuttered, slightly taken aback by his request, and the sudden change of subject. "It is upstairs, though."
"Will you fetch it for me?"
"Of course," Anne said quickly, relived that the worst part of all this seemed to be over, but also for a chance to get away from the elf's keen gaze for a moment, and to compose herself a little. She stood, and, without another glance at Legolas, she strode over to the door, and left the room, vaguely wondering if their supper was burnt yet, and where Pippin might have got to, as she made her way upstairs to her room. As far as that other 'option' Legolas had just presented to her was concerned - she did not even attempt to busy her mind with that that prospect (and what it would imply) for the present. Being in a complete turmoil did not tend to help considering anything calmly or carefully, of that she was certain. In fact, she tried very hard not to think about it for this very reason, knowing that it would make no sense. She was, of course, failing completely.
Her other two questions, at least, were answered when she returned to the small parlour, about ten minutes later. (This included the five minutes she had spent frantically searching her room, before remembering that she had shoved the necklace right to the bottom of her pack after taking it off that morning.)
The table had been laid in her absence – there were fresh loaves of bread, butter, a plate with cold meats and cheese, as well as the large terrine of stew, which was placed on a warmer with several low candles in it.
Pippin was standing at the table, pouring himself a mug of what appeared to be beer from a large jug. There were also several pitchers with water, as well as a jug that seemed to be filled with wine.
Anne went over to Legolas, while giving the hobbit a small smile, and receiving one in return. As she handed the chain with its pendant to the elf, she thought she saw a shadow pass over his face, but before she could be sure about what she had seen, it was gone, and he had taken the necklace from her hand. She then sat down, nervously watching Legolas, who, in turn, was looking closely at the small piece of silver. Anne noted that he seemed somewhat reluctant to touch it, holding the necklace by its chain as he examined the little feather, which was glittering innocently in the light of the candles.
"What do you think?" Pippin asked, sitting down as well, and reaching for Anne's cup to fill it for her. "Have you seen something like that before?"
"I cannot say, I fear," Legolas said slowly, "It is rather crudely made …"
"Really?" Anne exclaimed before she could stop herself.
"I thought it seemed so delicate …"
She fell silent as she saw Legolas frowning at her. He did not comment any further on her interrupting him, though.
"Not for an elf, it would not," Pippin explained instead, with a slight grin. "So there might be no connection at all to those self-proclaimed order people?" he then asked, addressing Legolas, now.
"As I said, there is no way to tell for certain," the elf murmured, still frowning, "Neither are those rumours flying around to be called reliable. And for all I know, this 'order' may have nothing to do with what is happening in the north."
"Would that not be too much of a coincidence to hope for?" Pippin asked, looking doubtful.
"'Hope'?" I would not think so, no," Legolas replied, looking dark, "One enemy seems more than enough to me."
Anne looked from one to the other, feeling the questions multiplying in her head, although she realised this might not be the best time to start asking them.
Legolas let the necklace sink and looked at her. "I trust it you will not mind if I keep this?"
Anne shook her head. "No, of course not. I don't want it."
There was a pause in which Pippin cut some of the bread, and Anne watched Legolas as he took a small leather pouch from his belt, and carefully placed the necklace inside.
"You said there were two things you wanted to ask of me?" she finally asked cautiously.
Legolas, having the pouch tied securely to his belt once more, looked up at her.
"Yes, there are. This was not one of them, however," he added with the mere hint of a smile.
For some reason, it seemed to Anne that the room had suddenly become a little bit brighter.
Folding his arms, the elf studied her for a few seconds, before he continued, "First, I would ask you to apologise to that man named Rooklar." He held up his hand as she gasped, motioning for her to let him finish. "I am not saying that you have to do it right now, obviously, but if the chance presents itself, you should seek him out - and ask for his forgiveness for the manner in which you have spoken to him."
"But - If anything, should not he …"
Anne trailed off as she saw Legolas narrow his eyes at her.
"Have you forgotten what I have just said to you? What Pippin said to you, this morning?"
After a moment, Anne nodded, lowering her gaze, though still feeling somewhat sulky.
"Second - look at me, Anne - I want you to give me your word that you will never again do or say anything that might, to the best of your judgement, bring you in any sort of contact with this Order of the Grey Feather."
Anne stared at him, open-mouthed.
"But, why would I –"
"It does not matter why," Legolas interrupted her sharply, "do I have your word?"
"I … yes, of course. I promise," Anne replied quickly, although still bemused. Why would he think that she might, under any circumstances, seek 'contact' with those people?
The elf held her gaze for a moment, before nodding softly. "Then let us not speak of this anymore."
Anne glanced at Pippin, who looked just as bemused by this last part of their exchange than she felt herself, but he recovered himself quickly.
"Good, good! This is settled, then. I take it, this means we can finally eat?"
He did not, in fact, wait for a reply from either of the two, but started handing around the bread, and then proceeded to ladle stew into Anne's bowl.
Their meal passed easily enough, considering the seriousness of the issues that had been discussed. It was clear that Pippin was trying his best to lighten the atmosphere, making comments about the weather (which was perhaps a bit of a poor choice, it had to be said), and attempting to make pleasant conversation about banalities – like the door sign of the inn, for example, which seemed to be a recent addition, ("What was wrong with the old one, I wonder, I liked it. Nobody concerns themselves with a bit of peeling off paint, and it had that certain homely feeling, if you know what I mean …") but also about whether Theobald Butterbur was to be considered corpulent or not. The latter Anne only listened to with half an ear, as she had started to mull over other things in her head. That was, until – when the young, male servant had just entered the room to clear off some of the plates, and in the process had been roped into the conversation as well - Pippin asked for her opinion.
"… I mean, I knew his uncle, of course, and I would have thought that such things run in the family, so to speak, meaning no offence, but then – with hobbits – it can go quite the other way as well, so perhaps it is the same with the big folk … what do you reckon, Anne?"
"Oh … ah, well –" Anne faltered, not wanting to admit that she had not really been listening. "Well, I suppose he might just like his hearty food, you know … also drinking beer tends to make men a little plump around the waist, does it not?"
There was a short silence, in which the youth stared at Anne in astonishment, before Pippin finally snorted into his mug, and Legolas made a sound that might have been a cough.
"Ah … yes, quite right, quite right … well, I was actually saying that the younger Butterbur looks rather 'leaner' than his uncle in that respect, but … no matter, no matter."
Pippin could have been a little less obvious in 'trying' to suppress his laughter, Anne thought, but then, it was hardly her place to argue. He was still sniggering when the servant had left the room (staring back at them over his shoulder), and Anne, who was feeling rather awkward, turned to Legolas.
"I just remembered – Butterbur mentioned something about a 'change of plans' to me, and that I would probably hear about it from you. Do you know what he might have been talking about?"
Legolas exchanged a glance with Pippin, before answering.
"It does not, in truth, concern you, but – yes, there was."
"Of course, you would not have heard about it, Anne," said Pippin, "It was a bit of a surprise, really, but it seems that … this Maeren Blackthorn has changed her mind about accompanying Legolas."
"What? Just like that? She is going to help you after all, then?" Anne stared at them both, wondering just how many surprises one day could bring. "But … well, that is good news, is it not? Although, it does seem terribly fickle …" She said the last part very quietly, but Legolas heard her nonetheless, of course. He gave her a look, which told her plainly that he did not think her in the position to make such observations.
At least, this explained the elf's talk of not being alone on his way back. Still, his words had been 'with others', not 'with someone else', Anne remembered. She could not help wondering, who else might be of the party.
Pippin was merely shrugging, however, and Legolas did not look like he was going to elaborate, so Anne contented herself with the knowledge that the journey here had not been a complete waste, after all. She felt strangely drained, she suddenly realised, but also the exhaustion from the whole day was hitting home now that she had been sitting and actually relaxing for a while. When she stood and made her excuses, having decided to retire to her room, Legolas asked her if she had any of that balm left, the one he had given to her for her shoulder-wound.
Anne turned back around to face him, looking surprised. "Yes, I think so. Do you need it?"
"No, but you might be well served by using some on that bump."
It took Anne a moment before she knew what he meant.
"Oh!" She laughed wearily. "It is nothing, really. I had even forgotten about until before, when you asked me if I had been hit … it would probably look a bit different, if those Dunlanders really had attacked me," she added as an afterthought. What on earth was she blabbering on about, she wondered vaguely. She really should go to bed.
Pippin slowly turned his head towards Legolas, raising his eyebrows as he did so.
Legolas, in turn, had not taken his eyes from Anne, though it seemed to her that his gaze had become a little steely.
Anne swallowed. "On the other hand, it cannot hurt to be careful, can it," she hurried to add, "If you think it might help …"
Legolas made a strange movement of his head – a sort of tilt and bend at the same time, as if he was mocking her (just a stab in the dark here). "I do indeed."
"Ah … yes. Well … thank you, then," said Anne, looking flustered.
She then hastily bade them both 'good night', before escaping the room.
As she climbed the stairs towards her floor, she could not help but to wonder a little. Not that she had not gotten used to the elf's sometimes erratic behaviour by now - and to think that he clearly considered her to be fickle … talk about the pot calling the kettle black! What had surprised her more, though, was Pippin's reaction. It had almost looked like he was trying to make sense of something, Legolas had said or done just now. Yes, he could be dismissive and rude sometimes, but surely it was not such an odd thing, even for him, to advise her to put salve on a wound?
Anne did not puzzle over this long, however. By the time she had reached her room, she was back to the question she had been subconsciously asking herself ever since she had run up to her room to fetch the necklace for Legolas.
What was she to do? In a way, it had been easier when there had been but one option for her.
Yes, she had felt somewhat gloomy at the prospect of saying goodbye – of watching the elf leave, knowing she was likely to never see him again.
Yes, she did feel (as unwilling she was to admit it to herself) drawn to him, and comforted by his presence, as well as closer to him than to anyone else.
However, this was not going to change, she knew, if she kept clinging on to him – symbolically speaking. She had come this conclusion before, it was true, and it was not like being aware of it meant that she was ale to change anything about it, but the fact of the matter was: She had become FAR to attached to him, which, considering that his chivalrous behaviour towards her left quite a bit to be desired at the best of times, was alarming enough in itself.
And if she were to decide to stay here, in the relative safety of Bree? Would this feeling of isolation go away? This sensation of somehow being separated from anybody else by an invisible wall … was it going to change at all?
Anne wondered how much she would regret not leaving with the elf, if she were to stay here and nothing changed. Her thinking invariably led to another question over and over again: How was she supposed to make a choice like this overnight?
She wished she could have more time to compare her options … not that she really had anything to compare, never having been to Eryn Lasgalen – at least not the inhabited part of it.
And then there was Laketown … if it would turn out to be possible for her to return there – would it be any different from Bree, if she did not remember any of it ... any of the people who were, hopefully, still safely living there? Would, perhaps, the people there remember her, at least?
With her thoughts spinning like this, it would be a miracle if she found any rest at all tonight, Anne thought wearily – much less the peace of mind to make a not-rushed-but-well-considered decision. When she drifted into an uneasy sleep, several hours later, her last coherent thought was that – should all else fail – she could always flip a coin.
:::
After Anne had left the room, there was a moment's silence, in which Pippin peered at Legolas over the rim of his mug. The elf, however, giving no indication that he had noticed, poured himself another cup of wine, and then proceeded to stare at the contents pensively, before taking a sip and grimacing slightly.
"This wine is terrible."
"I am sure it could never rival the stuff you might be served at home, or in any elvish company, for that matter," Pippin said quickly. "Why did you ask her whether she had been hit?"
Legolas looked up at the hobbit, raising an eyebrow.
"Begging you pardon?"
"Why did you ask her if any of those Dunlanders attacked her?" Pippin clarified, his voice a little impatient.
"I should have thought you would think it remiss of me not to ask such a thing."
"I am no fool Legolas, I now when someone is stalling. You know that nobody laid a finger on her, since I told you everything that happened this morning, blow by blow, so to speak." The hobbit frowned suddenly, his face darkening. "Unless you heard something … or sensed something from her somehow –"
Legolas held up a hand, shaking his head.
"No, Pippin, you need not worry. I heard or 'sensed' nothing of the sort. Aside from the fact that she apparently spent most of the day in her room, I doubt that the landlord, or any of the servants would have failed to notice it, had she left the inn. Also, I do not take her for the sort of person who would keep any such thing to herself. Even if she tried, we would know, I do not doubt it. She is hopelessly incapable of concealing her feelings. At any rate, she seemed genuinely taken aback when I asked her."
Pippin stared at him for a second.
"Well, you certainly know her better that I thought you did. However …"
He suddenly looked shrewdly at the elf. "That is to say then, that you thought I glossed over some of what happened at breakfast?"
Legolas smiled thinly.
"I am almost certain that you did."
"Now, Legolas, I must say it saddens me that you seem to have so little trust in me," Pippin said with mild indignation, "While I might perhaps not say it to your face that this sullen look of yours, that you seem to have adopted of late, does not suit you at all, I would not have expected you to believe me capable of deliberately keeping something of importance from you!"
Laughing softly, Legolas held up both his hands, as if by way of apology.
"I suspect I deserved that. My friend, I do not doubt your sincerity, but will you deny that you have left out the odd word Anne might have said in her fury? For all her quiet brooding, she can be rather … candid at times, I did register that by now."
"I would have thought that those things I repeated to you were already candid enough, without suspecting that I had left something out," muttered Pippin, "But even if I had – why on earth would I not tell you if someone had seriously hurt her in any way?"
"Perhaps you thought I would consider it as my responsibility to ensure that the culprit be punished, and do something rashly?"
"Assuming that I had indeed thought along those lines, would I have been wrong in that assessment?"
Legolas looked as if he were considering the hobbits question.
"I expect we shall never find out."
"Perhaps that is a good thing," Pippin muttered. "I hope we have established then, that I did indeed tell you everything that has occurred? I kept nothing from you, not even the meekest expletive."
"I would not exactly have held it against you," Legolas replied with a faint smile. "You were kind to protect Anne as you did. You have a bit of a soft spot for her, do you not?"
"Well, yes. Whatever you may say about her, the girl has her heart in the right place, and a rather stout heart, for that matter, unless I am quite mistaken."
Legolas inclined his head. "I will not deny that."
Pippin peered up at him.
"You do realise that she really meant no harm by what she said? She defended you fiercely – I was quite a bit touched, to tell you the truth."
"So you have told me. I do hope, however, that it was not quite how you phrased it, when talking to Anne."
"Well – I might have mentioned something about being impressed by her defending you so, if you must know – the fact that she did it at all, not the manner in which she did it, mind you! I suppose it is safe to assume that you did not tell her any of the sort?"
"No, Pippin, of course I did not," Legolas sighed, "While I am aware that she meant well, and that you in your kindness were presumably trying to assure her of that, I am not entirely sure that it was all to wise."
"Oh, do not think that I did not impress upon her the foolishness of what she did. However, I will admit that I felt a bit sorry for the poor thing. You should have seen her face, when she realised what she had done. To tell you the truth, I am afraid she is a bit timid of you."
Legolas raised an eyebrow.
"Are you, perhaps, suggesting that I am being too rough on her? Should I hold her hand, while telling her to think nothing of it, and not to heed the inclemencies of life?"
"That is not what I meant, and you know it," Pippin said impatiently. "I am simply stating that, today, Anne has shown not only loyalty to you, but quite a bit of courage also. Surely, not even you will argue that?"
"No, but that is precisely my point. If she does not learn to rein in that temper of hers, she will get herself into serious trouble at some point. Also, it was not the first time – although she certainly surpassed herself with today's incident, if your account of it is anything to go by."
"What do you mean?" Pippin asked, looking curious. "Did something similar happen before?"
The elf shook his head.
"Nothing of importance, and also no harm came from it, since it was mostly directed at me."
He glanced at Pippin, who was now grinning slightly, looking even more curious than before. Ignoring the hobbit's prying eyes, Legolas went on.
"It is hardly a laughing matter, Pippin – not if this turns out to be a habit of hers."
Pippin sighed.
"I know, I know, forgive me. And it is true; I have never seen a woman behave like that. Certain Hobbit-lasses – and –ladies, I'm afraid I must admit – may be a different matter, but that is not the point, I suppose."
"No, indeed. And she is no hobbit, I think we can agree on that at least. Under no circumstances would such behaviour be accepted amongst human company – or even elvish company, I daresay - no matter what her social background be. Surely, even highborn ladies of Men (which, without meaning offence, she is not, if I am not very much mistaken) would never dream of acting in such a way."
"You are right, I suppose," Pippin sighed. He then looked at the elf inquiringly. "You have no idea about her then? Who she might be … or rather, has been?"
Legolas wearily shook his head.
"As I told you last night – While I have visited Laketown, and have met its mayor on several occasions, I know nothing of his children, or if, indeed, he even has any. The garments she brought with her would indicate that she does not come from a humble household, however –"
"… They might not even be hers," Pippin finished the sentence for him.
"No, they might not."
The hobbit looked at him inquiringly.
"There is something else, though, isn't there? You do not sound convinced."
Legolas did not immediately respond, but gazed into the fire for a moment. Pippin took a sip from his beer, while keeping his eyes closely on the motionless form of his old friend. Finally he leaned forward.
"Legolas?"
The elf glanced up at him, and gave an elegant shrug.
"It is a mere feeling, and there is, perhaps there is no deeper meaning in it. However, the strongest thing I percept from her is a sense of … not belonging. I cannot think of a way to phrase it better. I think she even had half a mind of speaking to me about it, but then abandoned the thought."
"You mean, 'belong' here in Bree?" Pippin asked in some bewilderment. "But that is to be expected, surely? After all, she has arrived here only yesterday, and wherever she does hail from, it clearly is not Bree, or someone would have recognised her, no?"
"I do not think that feeling bears any relation to this place – or any other place, if I were to guess. I can tell that she consciously feels it as well, but this … lack of belonging, so to speak, it rather seems as if it is more … general. Almost as if it was about her whole being, inextricably linked with her existence. It did not begin after we came here, either. I was aware of it since the day I first met her, and while it appeared to grow less as we travelled, it has become stronger again – though I cannot be entirely certain."
Pippin stared at him, open-mouthed.
"But what, on earth, do you think that means? You do not believe it might be simply due to her having lost her memory?"
"I have no experience in such matters – but, somehow, I do not think so, no." He looked intently at Pippin. "The truth is – it has been reminding me of something all this time, though I could not say what exactly it was. Only recently, I realised where I have sensed this sort of thing before – or rather from whom. A feeling as if a person does somehow not quite … belong. A feeling that, for all they might supposed to be in this world - by the laws of the universe they should not be."
"You have lost me, my friend!" Pippin was shaking his head. "Will you explain this riddle to me, or do I have to guess?"
"I might not be able to explain it, but I shall tell you who I was thinking of. Although, you, of all people, should know, perhaps."
"Oh, now you are just being … ah … hold on a second," Pippin's eyes grew wide. "No, you cannot possibly mean … Gandalf!?"
When he saw Legolas slowly incline his head, and smile softly at the memory of the wizard, Pippin slowly set down his mug, staring at the elf in utter confusion.
"But how would that be possible? She cannot have come from the west, you know that much better than I do!"
"I did not say she came from the west – that would indeed be impossible. The thing about her that reminds me of Mithrandir is not her nature, or a notion of some sort of hidden power, or any such thing. It is that sensation … as if she were in a place because of some strange fate – not because she originates from it. Or, as you might perhaps phrase it yourself, 'it just does not feel natural'. It is also part of the reason for me to believe that Bree might not be the best place to live for her, after all."
"But if that were true …" Pippin said slowly, still looking utterly baffled, "And I must say, I would believe you were jesting, had I not seen my fair amount of strange and extraordinary things for myself … But if it is indeed true, and yet she does not come from the west … then were does she come from?"
"I cannot tell you," Legolas said quietly. "It is clear she does not know herself, and as I said – it is a mere feeling. I might be mistaken."
"Hmm … you might be …"
"It would not be the first time."
They both fell into silence after this, Pippin sipping from his mug every now and then, frowning sometimes, as if still trying to get his head around what Legolas had just told him. After several minutes, the hobbit straightened up in his chair with the air of someone who has finally made up his mind about something.
"Legolas," he said slowly, his eyes on the mug in his hands. When I was talking to Anne, she mentioned … something to me. You must not be angry with her, since she did it in an offhanded way, and it was clear that she did not realise the significance it might hold to me. She was not betraying your trust, merely making an innocent observation, as far as she was concerned, of that I am certain. If anything, she confirmed something that anyone who knows you well would have noticed at once."
He glanced at the elf.
"I realise you might not be willing to speak of this … but for the sake of our friendship, I cannot let you part without even having tried to do so."
Looking up, he saw that the elf had stiffened, and while he was still staring into the flames, there was something about his expression – a mixture between resignation and dark anticipation that Pippin had never seen on him before. It only steeled his resolve to speak.
"You know ... a little more than a year ago, I travelled to the south to visit Aragorn. I was sorry not to have met you, but you were back in Rhovanion at that time. Anyway, it was back then that I first … heard of things. The men in Gondor, they spoke about a new threat … rabbles of orcs turning up again, trolls coming down from the mountains, and … other things. Two men came to Gondor while I was there, messengers from their village in South Dorwinion. They told of the same evils, confirming the rumours, but also of something else ... Not far from their village, there suddenly had appeared strange, low, black buildings, but they looked more like barrows, so they said, and the men swore that they had not been there before. No one wished to go near them; they said those things had something ominous and sinister about them, and that they caused an oppressive feeling. In the end, one brave soul went to investigate them, but that man … they said, something terrible happened to him."
Shuddering, Pippin stared into the fire, as if its warmth might somehow suppress the feeling of cold dread that this memory seemed to have caused in him.
"Apparently, nobody knew exactly what had occurred, or had witnessed anything, but they seemed to believe that … that the man had somehow lost his mind. As if something had driven him insane. Aragorn was very worried - apparently there had been reports of similar happenings elsewhere, too. While it all seemed to have started somewhere near the Iron Hills, they said it had to originally come from further north – or perhaps eastwards from Rhun. No one really knew what to make of it, but it was said that the human settlements near those areas were being abandoned, one after the other. Also, Thorin and his people had left their realm and retreated back to Erebor – those of them who dwelled there at the time, I mean."
Pippin regarded Legolas cautiously, as if trying to gauge his reaction.
"I did not stay long after that. To tell you the truth, I had not thought I would live to see such things again," he muttered, "It was all very disconcerting. I know that Aragorn was planning to send men to the north-east, however.
He looked back at Legolas, who was still showing no reaction or acknowledgement to what Pippin was telling him. If there seemed to be a slight tension around his lips and eyes, it might have been caused by the play of light and shadow from the flames.
"I knew that something was happening. Even in the Shire we hear news every now and then, albeit little. But then – when I came to Rivendell last month …"
Pippin looked at Legolas more intently now, but also with a hint of sorrow on his face.
"I met Glorfindel there, Legolas. I had not seen him in many years, and he was, in fact, preparing to leave and travel east, and to your father's realm, but he was still kind enough to spare some time for me, and we talked long. He had dark tidings as well, though …
Those men, Aragorn had sent – they had not come back. Not one of them. Apparently many months had gone by without word from them, and then … Another group of ten or so – both Elves and Dúnedain from Ithilien - rode after them, although Aragorn was against this, it was said. That second group … they, too, never send word …nor did they return, so it seems. Or, at least they had not returned at the time the messengers – who had extended their stay even, hoping for news from them, so I believe – set out back for Rivendell at last – and that was many months after they had left."
There was a pause. Pippin glanced at Legolas, who seemed to have become even stiller than before. When he continued, his voice was barely audible over the low crackling and spitting of the fire.
"No one seemed clear on whether you had ridden with them, or whether you had journeyed back to Eryn Lasgalen to report to your father …"
When Pippin glanced up at Legolas again, he was startled to see that the elf had turned his head and was looking straight at him; there was such an utter darkness and despair in his eyes that, for a moment, Pippin felt as though all the air and light had vanished from the room. When he finally found his voice again, it sounded hoarse, even to his own ears.
"… But you did ride with them, did you not? Did … did you find Aragorn's men? If the messengers had waited, would they, perhaps, have been able to ease all our worries? What did you –"
"Twelve."
Legolas had spoken softly, and as if to himself. He had slowly dropped his gaze towards the fire, but now his eyes were seeking Pippin's face once more. The hobbit was looking at him, frowning in incomprehension.
"We were twelve. Five Elves and seven Dúnedain. And it would not have mattered whether the messengers had waited or not. It was over long before they returned to Imladris."
"What was over? And if you went with eleven others, where have they got to, if they have not yet gone back to Gondor?"
Pippin had the strange sensation of not getting quite enough air again. As if something invisible, big and greedy was using it all up. Legolas had turned his head back towards the fire, the flame's tiny reflections mirrored in his eyes. When Pippin had already begun to suspect that the elf was not going to answer his last question, Legolas spoke at length - his voice gentle, his gaze still fixed on the dancing flames.
"I killed them."
:::
III III III
AN: A long chapter with even LONGER conversations, so it seems... I know it has been a lot of talking lately, but some of those confrontations have been overdue, really :-/
Ironically, there isn't much to say about this part. I'm sorry for the 'pimply youth' ;) yet again (poor guy, I realise he can probably not even be called two-dimensional )
One thing I should mention, perhaps, before anyone gets a chance to complain: When Pippin is speaking about Thorin, it should be noted that this is NOT Thorin Oakenshield (for obvious reasons), who journeyed with Bilbo to Erebor, but Thorin Stonehelm, who was the son of Dáin II, and, for all we know, the lord over the Iron Hills since after the war of the ring – if there has indeed been a dwarven population there again, something on which Tolkien was not quite clear.
Of course, if you have questions or suggestions, let's hear it
I can't promise that I will be able to post the next chapter as quickly as this one; I'm working a lot on this story, and usually get a little bit done every other day or so (While on the train f.e.), but since I write a lot of it by hand, it is the editing and typing it out, which really takes up most of the time. I'll do my best though
And – as ever – my sincere thanks to everyone reading this story, and especially those who take the time to tell me their thoughts about it. It means more to me than you think