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Enjoy!

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Chapter Twenty-eight

Serafina's feet flew, one after the other as she raced through the dark mines with the Fellowship. Her heart was pounding as she ran and could feel it beating hard against her chest. Her ears were filled with the cries of Orcs, the slapping of footsteps on stone and the ragged breathing from her own lungs and from the fellowship around her. She tried to block out the thundering groans coming from a distant glowing red behind them. Her eyes had widened in fear when Gandalf had explained that it was a Balrog. She knew nothing of such demons, but the alarm in the faces of the fellowship terrorised her; she knew now that she was with the deadliest and most skilful company in Middle-Earth, for them to show panic signified that the enemy was fearsome indeed.

They ran recklessly down the narrow passageways, though they had traversed similar ones previously with such caution. A couple of times Serafina nearly fell she was grateful that someone caught her, but she didn't know who. She herself saved Pippin from what would have been a fatal fall. He didn't stop to say thank you and Serafina was glad for it - every second was precious.

She realised suddenly that Aragorn was no longer behind her. For some reason he was in the lead, urging them on faster. Gandalf had taken Aragorn's place at the rear. This would have seemed strange to her but self-preservation pushed the information into the back of her mind; they were not out yet.

Her stomach was in her throat as they jumped over gaps in the thin staircases, and ran further still. Not until someone cried out "There!" did she let her mind entertain the idea of safety. With heavy relief she ran after the Hobbits towards the doorway where Aragorn stood urging them through. She smiled at Aragorn in disbelief at their escape as she neared him, but he stood transfixed with horror looking over her shoulder.

She turned as Frodo screamed something in defiance at the sight that met her eyes. Gandalf stood alone before a terrible fiend; the Balrog. The heat emanating from it scorched her cheek and dried her eyes as it stalled before the Wizard, as if flexing its strength before devouring its prey. The demon advanced on Gandalf, but to her amazement the bridge crumbled beneath it. Bitter hope flared through her - perhaps they all would make it out alive and whole. Aragorn's hand appeared on her shoulder, he pulled her back towards the hidden doorway, guiding her to the exit. His own eyes remained on his friend, who was turning to join them. She let her eyes leave the grey figure, and began to walk in the direction the Ranger was pulling her. She lifted her face to look at his, ready to offer again the smile of relief. But his expression changed again, his hand gripped her shoulder so hard she wanted to cry out with pain. But they cry never left her lips - it came from his instead. She looked around to see what distressed him, but there was nothing there. Frodo cried out the Wizards name again in desperation. Serafina searched the scene again, looking for Gandalf. Perhaps he had been hit by one of the arrows from the Orcs that began to shower around them like rain. But there was no Gandalf. Dread started to take hold of her.

Aragorn's grip had lost none of its strength, his fingers dug into her shoulder like a vice and suddenly she was stumbling under the force of his shoving. He threw her up behind the stone wall that concealed the exit without looking at her. She tripped but regained her balance. Boromir followed her dragging a screaming hobbit. She had no choice but to scramble out before him.

She stood, blinking hard in the grey daylight and Boromir pushed past her. Serafina had looked forward desperately to blues and greens as vivid as the yellow sun but the world was grey; sky, rock, mountain and fog shrouded forest - all grey. She began to walk around the desolate landscape, and savoured the fresh air as she took each breath. The air, she noted, was at least as fresh as she'd been anticipating but its sweetness was tainted by her own stink of unwashed skin and clothes sullied with orc blood.

She looked at the faces of the fellowship - she was afraid to see what might be confirmed by their expression, but she needed to know what they had seen. Despair met her. One by one she searched their eyes; every pair said the same thing; 'He's gone.'

Eventually her eyes settled on Aragorn as he emerged from the mines. Her shoulder was still throbbing from the force of his grip. His face was still; as if he received the pain he now endured with dark acceptance. It was his steadiness that rattled Serafina the most - he looked only more grim than usual. At that moment she saw a stranger in his place; a man she had never met, who had already lived a life she might never know of. A part of her longed to go to him to offer what comfort she might be able to provide, but memory tickled the corners of her mind. Legolas' words rang in her head 'You would do well to remember your place… On his shoulders rests the hope of man'. A coldness spread through her as she digested these words anew. Truly this man was a stranger, she knew nothing of him. She stood rooted in her place.

Mere moments later he spurred them on. There were objections for the sake of compassion, sorrow and grief but Aragorn was firm; time was still scarce. Serafina found herself running now through the fields and scattered trees as they headed towards a forest. Someone mentioned Elves as they ran and her heart sank, if possible, even further. Her mind did not want to accept his death and she did not know how they would survive without the guidance of the Wizard. She also did not know how she would survive another encounter with the elves, the last had not been so hospitable.

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Serafina barely spoke as the Elves of Lothlórien took them hostage and spoke late into night with Aragorn and Legolas. She wanted to object when a bag was placed over her head and she was led through the forest but her soul felt too heavy. She said nothing at all as they were brought before the Lord and Lady of the wood. Her nerves were stretched thin from the events of the past week; she had had little food, no rest and was standing high in the treetops of an Elf-inhabited forest - if the Gods themselves stood before her she would not have been able to speak even for a promise of eternal salvation.

When they returned to solid ground an elf-maiden led Serafina away from the company. She did not speak but simply walked before her with a half smile on her face. She walked to a secluded area of the citadel - Serafina's eyes widened and she smiled at the elf in joyous gratitude. A bath stood before her, steaming with fresh smelling soaps, and clean crisp clothing was waiting on a stool by the water. The elf maiden smiled in return and left her.

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She tried not to drag her feet as she walked towards her companions. Serafina did feel wonderful now that she was out of her bloodied, stinking clothing and now that she was clean herself, but she felt oddly exposed - as though her armour had been removed and she was now vulnerable to attack. She gritted her teeth - she knew she should not complain. The dress they had given her in the stead of her sullied clothes was practical, comfortable and did not restrict movement. The wool of the long sleeved undershirt and dark tights was thick and sturdy and not irritating. The dress itself was a nondescript dark grey, which fell straight to her ankles. To her immense relief the skirt was not flared in anyway, and had a high slit up the side of each leg for the purpose of uninhibited movement, particularly for horse riding and combat.

Head lifted high as she took a deep breath for strength. She did not know why her stomach was churning but she tried to put it out of her mind as she rounded a corner and the remaining eight of the fellowship came into view.

"Oh ho!" exclaimed Gimli, "Who is this lassie?"

Serafina scanned the group, each of them looking at her with an expression of mild surprise.

"I do not know, but she looks clean." Said the elf in reply, an eyebrow half raised and a mocking smirk upon his face. She scowled at him and he laughed and said in a provoking tone, "Well, there now - that pout puts me greatly in mind of the thief girl that has been travelling with us. Do you not think Aragorn?"

Aragorn's expression changed and an amused half smile appeared on his face. But he put down his sword that he had been cleaning and walked over to Serafina, his face changing to a look of mock consternation. Serafina's churning stomach did a sort of sickening flip as he closed the distance between them but she kept her face proud and lifted high. "I do not know," he answered once he was standing so close to her that she could see every weathered line upon his brow. A smile tweaked at his lips and he opened his mouth to speak again, "She certainly smells better than Serafina."

Boromir, Legolas and Gimli laughed heartily at his comment, even Merry and Pippin smiled weakly. Serafina put a haughty smile on her lips and lifted an eyebrow in challenge to the Ranger. He raised his own in acceptance. His hand lifted her chin to tilt her face towards his; he pretended to examine her face - as if trying to decide on her true identity. Serafina submitted to this attention with her shoulders thrown back, mustering as much pride as she could find. Suddenly a hand grabbed her right wrist and ripped it from it's place hanging by her side bringing it in front of her. She cried out in shock, more than in pain. But the damage was done.

"This is not Serafina," Aragorn said with a self-satisfied smile, "Serafina does not feel pain when other's would, and denies it if she does." He released her chin and her arm and threw her a smirk as he took a step away from her.

The companions laughed again at Serafina's expense and she permitted herself to smile. Boromir spoke up his voice full of mirth, "If this is not Serafina, what should we do with her? Do you think we could trade her for the thief?"

"Certainly it would be a good trade, but what would we do with the real Serafina?" asked Legolas, thoroughly enjoying the discomfort on the thief's face.

Serafina let a sheepish smile come onto her own face and said, "I wouldn't worry too much about her - I think she drowned herself in the bath water when the elves took her clothes away to be burnt."

Aragorn laughed along with Legolas, Boromir and Gimli. Merry and Pippin's smiles grew stronger as they watched the scene, and Serafina smiled the more for it. She felt suddenly lighter and fresher. As though her soul was being cleaned and mended by the laughter of her friends as the water has cleansed her filthy body.

A small voice spoke up from the edge of the scattered company. "Have you forgotten him already?" Frodo asked accusingly as he strode towards them. Serafina felt the smile wash off her face and the faces of the others in unison, like the tide washing off the shore. "What? A bit of dirt scrubbed off her and suddenly you've all forgotten about how he died to save us?" he paused and met each of their eyes in turn, letting his gaze linger longer on Serafina's face, "Forgive me if I am not so fickle a friend as to abandon his memory so quickly."

Slowly Serafina felt the weight that had been so recently lifted off her press down onto her shoulders; the death of the Wizard, the suffering of Olin, Boromir's growing obsession for the Ring, and the harsh words she'd said to the one member of this party who had showed her lasting friendship. Despair crept its tendril around her mind.

Serafina stayed only long enough to see Aragorn kneel before the hobbit, placing his hands on Frodo's shoulders. She saw the same sadness in his eyes that she felt on her heart, and she turned and stole her way away from their camp before she could hear what he said. She walked the woods until weariness took hold. At this point Serafina contemplated trying to find her way back to the others but she dreaded seeing their faces again. She did not want to see another sad face, she did not want to be reminded of the dangers she'd found herself in. She did not want to think about how quickly Gandalf had left them, and how easy it would be for the same thing to happen to her or one of the others. Soon she leant against a tree and sank to the forest floor. Sleep claimed her almost instantly, and she let her troubled thoughts blend seamlessly into troubled dreams.

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Serafina woke late the next day, and rolled over luxuriously in her bedroll.

"Good afternoon lass," came Gimli's rough voice.

"What time is it?" she asked groggily, looking around the deserted camp. There was no one to be seen apart from the dwarf and Boromir, who sat against a tree sharpening a small knife.

"Past midday, but don't worry, the last of the hobbits only beat you by a half hour," he said with a gruff smile.

Serafina nodded slowly and sat up. Something niggled at her mind, she frowned then remembered the conversation from the night before, "I thought I fell asleep in the forest?" she said, confused.

"And so yeh did lassie!" he answered her, then continued in a quieter voice, "not that I think it was a good idea! I'm not sure what to make of this elf infested forest." He grumbled half to himself.

Boromir looked up from his knife. "Aragorn went out looking for you last night after you did not return," he said with an heir of superiority.

Serafina felt her cheeks colour, he must have found her and carried her back to camp. Gratefulness for her tangled hair covering her ears washed over her - her ears were burning with heat, she knew they would be as red a tomato. She ignored this as best she could and changed the subject, "Where is everyone?"

"Walking around the forest I guess," Gimli said with a strange tone in his voice. If Serafina had not been traveling with him for the past while she would have sworn she heard something like longing in his voice. Not knowing what to do with such information she decided to ignore it and found a water skin and splashed her face.

"Is there any food?" she asked looking around the camp.

"No," Gimli answered and gave her a curious look, then said in an attempt at a tactful voice, "the hobbits just left in search of some…"

Serafina scowled and noticed her appetite sliding away and a sick feeling sinking in. She was sure Frodo had been speaking more directly to her when he had admonished them for their careless banter last night. She knew it should not come as a surprise to her, but the dislike in his eyes had startled her when he'd looked at her. Certainly she'd taken the ring from him, but that seemed like months ago, even if it was only just over a week hence. She compared the angry, sad hobbit she had seen last night with the polite, mild mannered and slightly frightened one she had met in Bree and could barely reconcile the two.

With the scowl firmly set into her features she grabbed the sword Boromir had given her and sat down abruptly by the other two. With a frown of his own, though not directed at the thief, Boromir offered her a sharpening stone. She took it and set to work. A sombre silence fell between the three of them, each dwelling on their own misfortunes. She realised as she sat there in their silent company that the three of them were the only members of the group that were uncomfortable in this forest. She had always liked the dwarf, finding his company both easy and amusing, but what surprised her was the feeling of kinship that was being kindled in her towards Boromir. It was evident that he was as unhappy to be in Lorien as she was. She frowned deeper at the feeling, but pushed it aside and focused all her concentration on sharpening the short sword without hurting her damaged wrist.

It was in this unhappy silence that Aragorn found them. He felt a smile tug at his lips at this unlikely allegiance, and sat himself down between the thief and the man. Boromir nodded at him gravely and returned to his task. Gimli grunted at him and turned his attention back to staring into the forest. Serafina looked up at him and then back down at her sword. Aragorn watched her and saw the now familiar blush creep up her neck. He lowered his eyes from her face to try to alleviate her discomfort and his eyes fell on her hands. He sighed patiently and shook his head.

"Fia please," he said quietly, putting a hand on her wrist, stopping her movements "You must rest it."

"I need my hands," she said to him stubbornly.

"If you do not let the healing take place it may never fully recover."

She closed her eyes in annoyance but let the sword drop. Aragorn took her arm and began to undress the wound. It was still ghastly to behold. He kept his face as passive as he could and began the usual routine of cleaning and tending it.

"It will scar," he said to her as he worked. He looked at her face for a reaction and was surprised to see a brazen smile on her face.

"I'm glad I will have some kind of souvenir to remember my first battle with the wargs."

Aragorn shook his head but did not answer. The oppressive silence that had dwelt between the three before Aragorn had joined them fell heavily onto them again. Once he had finished his task he stood to leave, informing them that the fellowship and Serafina would be dining with the Lord and Lady of the wood that evening. He walked away leaving two of their faces in dread and the other in mingled hope and fear.

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Serafina sat among the few still seated. Most of the Elves were dancing, Legolas could be seen among them, dancing with one beauty then another. Aragorn spoke with the elf Haldir across the landing. Occasionally he would look back at her, but she tried to ignore him. Only Boromir, Gimli, Sam and Frodo remained sitting with her, but there was no conversation to be had.

Eventually the dancers caught her attention, gracefully weaving about one another in a fluid dance as if controlled by one mind. She let her thoughts drift as she watched their graceful movements. She had not enjoyed the meal. Being spoken to rarely and ignored by many did not constitute an enjoyable evening for the thief, but she had not expected much else from the elves. She had watched Gimli with surprise as he had gazed in admiration at the Lady Galadriel while they dined. Aragorn had been seated on the opposite side of the table to Serafina along with Frodo and Legolas. The other hobbits sat between them and herself, Gimli and Boromir. She had found no conversation in the dwarf that evening, preoccupied as he was with starring at the beautiful elf Lady. Her only consolation through the evening was that Boromir was clearly enjoying himself as little as she. She frowned as she watched Legolas smile at his radiant partner as they danced.

The ground swayed. Serafina tried to grab at the seat beneath her without drawing attention to herself. She found being in the treetops incredibly disagreeable, and though the landing was built to resemble a room, the dark abyss beyond the floor kept her on edge. She was sure she was the only one who even noticed that the ground moved in the breeze.

She spotted Aragorn moving towards her and she offered him a shaky half smile. He walked directly to where she was sitting and leant down to speak to her quietly.

"Dance with me," he said his face as grim as ever, grey eyes guarded.

Serafina could not help raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Aragorn, you cannot be serious. We are in a treetop full of elves. I could not possibly…" she trailed off at the trace of hurt in his eyes.

"Dance with me," he repeated, his voice almost pleading.

Serafina could not find words to answer and he led her into the throng of elves. "I do not know any of the dances of elves," she said, trying to hide the note of panic in her voice.

He smiled at her and pulled her into a stance that was familiar to her, his right hand on her waist, his left hand holding her right hand gently as to not injure her wrist. She let her left hand rest on his shoulder and looked at him quizzically. He took a step closer to her and said in an almost whisper, "You will know this dance. Trust me."

Serafina tried to take a steadying breath - there was nothing comforting in this situation. But her deep breath only sent her head into a more dizzying spin as his scent filled her senses. She noted then that it was like the smell of rich earth and leather but slightly different, mixed with the familiar smell of the herb he used on her wrist and some unknown spice. She closed her eyes to regain her self-control and Aragorn pressed her hip lightly to signal they were moving. He took three steps towards her and then pulled her back towards him. She opened her eyes and smiled at him in instant recognition. She had danced this dance in simpler times in Bree; when the hours grew small in the night and when the beer had reached those in the Inns who could play music. Those occasions had not been many in number but they held a special place in her heart. There were not many women who stayed late at Inns drinking ale and laughing the hours away, and Serafina had been sought after along with the barmaids to dance by many a gentleman and low-life alike. On those nights she had smiled and laughed with the rest of them, forgetting her situation in life as the others forgot their own and enjoying the moment for what it was.

Her inhibitions melted away as she moved with Aragorn around the floor. The music was very different to what she was used to dancing this to but it fitted nonetheless. She found herself smiling as they danced together, forgetting herself and enjoying the feeling of his hand moving sometimes to her waist sometimes to her hips. She saw Aragorn smiling too, but tried to keep her eyes away from his, not sure as she was that she wanted to see what might be in his eyes.

Aragorn pulled her in tighter as the music wound to a close, slowing their movement with the music. She looked up at him as the dance ended, and he bowed his head down towards her own, his smile fading. A look of acute pain flashed across his face before a stoney expression replaced it and he closed his eyes. Serafina's eyes widened, she was not used to giving comfort and she suddenly felt awkward in his arms, but she did not move. She thought of the pain he must be feeling; how deep his friendship had run with Gandalf, she did not know. She thought of the grumpy old Wizard and a sad smile appeared on her face. With great effort she forced out the only words she thought were true that might bring him some comfort.

"He would want you to smile," she said quietly. The words came out not as gently as she knew they should have, but overall she thought that her intention to comfort could not be misinterpreted.

Aragorn however did not smile at her in thanks, he opened his eyes and looked at her as if searching for an answer, finally he said in such a low whisper she nearly didn't hear, "And what of her?"

Serafina flinched away from him. Arwen. He closed his eyes again and let his hands drop. Silently he took up her arm and led her unsmilingly back to where she had sat and left her. Almost instantly her eyes met a pair of keen, piercing, blue ones. Legolas did not frown but his eyes were harsh as he regarded her, searching her face for some knowledge of what had just passed between them. She looked away to catch others from the Fellowship watching her, only to look away when she challenged them with her gaze.

Eventually Serafina stood and made her way to the archway that led to the winding staircase, which would take her back to solid ground. She told herself that the unsettled feeling in her stomach was simply the product of a night with elves in a treetop, and had nothing to do with the Ranger whose troubled grey eyes swam across her vision.

She gritted her teeth, she would be glad when she was rid of this place.