The tall Elf grabbed Aragorn's outstretched hand.
"Glad to see you are still in one piece Strider," he chuckled.
"You cut it rather fine," Aragorn replied. "Next time, sooner would be better."
The Elf laughed.
"Come, we have a camp not far from here," he looked around at the dead Orcs littering the ground. "They'll start to stink soon and the scavengers will come for them. Best not to stay here longer than necessary."
Aragorn nodded. He walked back to the others. They needed food, some attention to the wounds they'd received, but mostly they needed rest. They'd been walking for weeks and this fight had sapped them of what little strength they had held in reserve. Reluctantly, he roused the Hobbits and the others.
"We have to move from here now," he said as he helped Frodo to his feet.
Looking around, they knew why. They didn't want to stay in this place any longer than necessary either. Wearily, they followed Elrilmar away from the field of dead Orcs and into the woods, to join all the Elves as they trekked back to their camp.
The smell of roasting meat reached them first. Having had nothing substantial to eat for a very long time, the aroma was intoxicating to the weary men. They stumbled into the camp and ate heartily. Several of the Elven females brought them fresh clothes. Xander was especially taken with one of them. She was so much like Buffy, only taller. She had such a sweet smile. He watched as she moved gracefully through the gathered warriors, tending gently to the wounds.
She felt his dark eyes watching her every move. It embarrassed her. Her parents had kept her sheltered in Lothlorien away from the outside world of Middle Earth. She'd never seen anyone but her own kind before, but she'd always longed for adventure. She'd begged her parents to allow her to follow her older brothers when Galadriel had sent them to aid the Saviour and his comrades. Reluctantly, they had had let her go.
Culromen watched his sister intently. He saw the glances she stole at the dark stranger, and he didn't like it. He knew their parents had hoped for a match with Palantalath, a young warrior and son of one of their dearest friends. They had made it very clear that they expected him to watch over her and ensure she came back to Lothlorien in one piece. He realised he'd have to watch her and the one called Xander very carefully.
Xander couldn't take his eyes off her. She was tending to a cut on Gimli's arm when he noticed she was stealing glances at him too. He was surprised at the faint blush he saw reddening her cheeks. He felt like he was back in school, stealing little glances at a girl he liked. He wondered if she would ever come over to him, or if she'd be too shy.
"Pretty maiden," Gandalf said softly as he sat down beside Xander.
"Yes she is," Xander blushed as he said it.
"You haven't taken your eyes off her."
Xander was embarrassed that he, that anyone had noticed. But then, he was used to his attentions in the opposite sex being mocked. He was the school joke, especially after Cordelia dumped him. So he kissed Willow? He thought he was going to die soon. Who knew Oz and Cordelia were going to swoop in and rescue them before Spike returned to viciously slaughter them? You think she'd have been a little bit more understanding. But it was over and now he was alone. The thing with Faith hadn't worked out and now looked even less likely to ever be anything more than more attempts by her to kill him. But now, he felt the same way. If he ever saw her again, she was not going to leave alive.
"Who is she?" he asked.
"I believe her name is Goramarthien."
"And in English that is...?"
Gandalf laughed.
"Its a beautiful language. Almost like music. Just listen to them."
Xander looked around him at all the Elves resting after the fight with the Orcs. Gandalf was right. Their laughter, joking around and even just their conversations with each other were like music. He couldn't understand a word of it, but he really didn't want to. It would take away the beauty from what they were saying. He found he couldn't keep his eyes open. He let them close and let the Elves musical speech lull him into a state of near sleep.
"You're hurt."
Xander's eyes shot open and he found himself staring into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. It was the Elf maiden he'd been watching.
"Hurt?"
He looked down at the cut on his thigh. He'd barely noticed it. The pain had gone and it was now just a dull ache. It was annoying, but nothing to complain about. After all he'd been through and all he expected to come, he didn't think a small thing like a cut on his leg should be something to worry about.
"I'll live," he smiled.
"Well of course you will live sir," she replied. "Its not a life threatening injury. But all the same, it should be cleaned and bound to save it from further harm."
He let her cleanse his wound and bind it in a clean scrap of fabric. She had such delicate hands. He was fascinated by her. They talked whilst she tended to his injury. She told him all about growing up in Lothlorien and for the first time ever, she told someone about her longing for adventure.
Xander smiled. She'd certainly come to the right place for that. He only hoped it wouldn't end up getting her killed. Getting any of them killed. By now the Orcs would be back at wherever they'd come from and he was sure Faith wouldn't be in the best mood after finding out that they were still alive and that her attempts to kill them had failed again.
Culromen continued to watch them with his anger growing. What did his sister think she was doing? She was too young in Elven years to be carrying on with a male, any male like she was. She was also too old for the boy. Elven years were different than human ones and Culromen was thankful for that. They might look the same age, but Goramarthien had already lived for thousands of years. They would soon find they had nothing in common and whatever mild attraction they might have, it would not be enough to compensate for that. She also knew of their parents plans for her to wed Palantalath. If nothing else, Goramarthien was a dutiful daughter. This would come to nothing.
"Glad to see you are still in one piece Strider," he chuckled.
"You cut it rather fine," Aragorn replied. "Next time, sooner would be better."
The Elf laughed.
"Come, we have a camp not far from here," he looked around at the dead Orcs littering the ground. "They'll start to stink soon and the scavengers will come for them. Best not to stay here longer than necessary."
Aragorn nodded. He walked back to the others. They needed food, some attention to the wounds they'd received, but mostly they needed rest. They'd been walking for weeks and this fight had sapped them of what little strength they had held in reserve. Reluctantly, he roused the Hobbits and the others.
"We have to move from here now," he said as he helped Frodo to his feet.
Looking around, they knew why. They didn't want to stay in this place any longer than necessary either. Wearily, they followed Elrilmar away from the field of dead Orcs and into the woods, to join all the Elves as they trekked back to their camp.
The smell of roasting meat reached them first. Having had nothing substantial to eat for a very long time, the aroma was intoxicating to the weary men. They stumbled into the camp and ate heartily. Several of the Elven females brought them fresh clothes. Xander was especially taken with one of them. She was so much like Buffy, only taller. She had such a sweet smile. He watched as she moved gracefully through the gathered warriors, tending gently to the wounds.
She felt his dark eyes watching her every move. It embarrassed her. Her parents had kept her sheltered in Lothlorien away from the outside world of Middle Earth. She'd never seen anyone but her own kind before, but she'd always longed for adventure. She'd begged her parents to allow her to follow her older brothers when Galadriel had sent them to aid the Saviour and his comrades. Reluctantly, they had had let her go.
Culromen watched his sister intently. He saw the glances she stole at the dark stranger, and he didn't like it. He knew their parents had hoped for a match with Palantalath, a young warrior and son of one of their dearest friends. They had made it very clear that they expected him to watch over her and ensure she came back to Lothlorien in one piece. He realised he'd have to watch her and the one called Xander very carefully.
Xander couldn't take his eyes off her. She was tending to a cut on Gimli's arm when he noticed she was stealing glances at him too. He was surprised at the faint blush he saw reddening her cheeks. He felt like he was back in school, stealing little glances at a girl he liked. He wondered if she would ever come over to him, or if she'd be too shy.
"Pretty maiden," Gandalf said softly as he sat down beside Xander.
"Yes she is," Xander blushed as he said it.
"You haven't taken your eyes off her."
Xander was embarrassed that he, that anyone had noticed. But then, he was used to his attentions in the opposite sex being mocked. He was the school joke, especially after Cordelia dumped him. So he kissed Willow? He thought he was going to die soon. Who knew Oz and Cordelia were going to swoop in and rescue them before Spike returned to viciously slaughter them? You think she'd have been a little bit more understanding. But it was over and now he was alone. The thing with Faith hadn't worked out and now looked even less likely to ever be anything more than more attempts by her to kill him. But now, he felt the same way. If he ever saw her again, she was not going to leave alive.
"Who is she?" he asked.
"I believe her name is Goramarthien."
"And in English that is...?"
Gandalf laughed.
"Its a beautiful language. Almost like music. Just listen to them."
Xander looked around him at all the Elves resting after the fight with the Orcs. Gandalf was right. Their laughter, joking around and even just their conversations with each other were like music. He couldn't understand a word of it, but he really didn't want to. It would take away the beauty from what they were saying. He found he couldn't keep his eyes open. He let them close and let the Elves musical speech lull him into a state of near sleep.
"You're hurt."
Xander's eyes shot open and he found himself staring into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. It was the Elf maiden he'd been watching.
"Hurt?"
He looked down at the cut on his thigh. He'd barely noticed it. The pain had gone and it was now just a dull ache. It was annoying, but nothing to complain about. After all he'd been through and all he expected to come, he didn't think a small thing like a cut on his leg should be something to worry about.
"I'll live," he smiled.
"Well of course you will live sir," she replied. "Its not a life threatening injury. But all the same, it should be cleaned and bound to save it from further harm."
He let her cleanse his wound and bind it in a clean scrap of fabric. She had such delicate hands. He was fascinated by her. They talked whilst she tended to his injury. She told him all about growing up in Lothlorien and for the first time ever, she told someone about her longing for adventure.
Xander smiled. She'd certainly come to the right place for that. He only hoped it wouldn't end up getting her killed. Getting any of them killed. By now the Orcs would be back at wherever they'd come from and he was sure Faith wouldn't be in the best mood after finding out that they were still alive and that her attempts to kill them had failed again.
Culromen continued to watch them with his anger growing. What did his sister think she was doing? She was too young in Elven years to be carrying on with a male, any male like she was. She was also too old for the boy. Elven years were different than human ones and Culromen was thankful for that. They might look the same age, but Goramarthien had already lived for thousands of years. They would soon find they had nothing in common and whatever mild attraction they might have, it would not be enough to compensate for that. She also knew of their parents plans for her to wed Palantalath. If nothing else, Goramarthien was a dutiful daughter. This would come to nothing.
