Author's Note: There have been so many wonderful stories in the LotR section as of late that I felt I must join in the fun. It seems as though we have formed our own Fellowship!

Nevertheless, this is my first LotR fic, and will be installed in parts whenever I can escape to write them. It takes place after the death of Boromir and before the reunion of the Seven, and obviously strays a bit from the book- but that's what being a fan fiction author's all about!

I apologise for any inaccuracies in the text; yes, I have read the books but no, my memory is not superhuman and nor is my research ethic. Bear with me.

Reviews, as always, are deeply appreciated.

-Spike

Boundless

Chapter One: Where the Willow Wanders

The forest sees all.

It saw with myriad eyes the fall of Boromir, traitor turned hero in trivial time, even in the reckoning of mortals.

It saw the worship of Aragorn, future king of the stone realm of Gondor, as he vanquished the Uruk-Hai and knelt before his friend, bestowing upon the war-grimed forehead a kiss of loyal brotherhood. It felt the blood of the fallen lick the roots of its great trees and twisted them away in disgust, desiring water to cleanse the defilement of its hallowed soil.

It saw the gleam of battle in the eyes of those bound to the broken Fellowship, both crystal and steel at once. Its member's united resolve held tighter than the revered mithril, treasure of dwarves. It was a resolve bound with friendship and boundless faith, of nobility, of determination and grief.

The very heart of the forest trembled for the sake of the dark ones who stood before them on their long journey to Mordor.

Indeed, it trembled for the fate of Mordor itself.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Moon or sun; it does not matter to the eyes of an elf," Aragorn murmured softly to Gimli as they picked their way along the dark path , following the elf prince as he wove his way through the dark sentries of the trees that guarded their passing from the eyes of enemies.

Gimli snorted, outwardly unimpressed, but in his stout dwarf heart he marveled at the gifts bestowed upon the Elven race.

Legolas Greenleaf, fair heir to the revered throne of Mirkwood, stepped as lightly as ever, making no sound, his golden hair greedily seizing the moon's rays for its own. He sang soft, imploring songs to the trees as he went, and in turn listened to theirs and allowed them to be his navigator. As he walked, the soft touch of a new branch caressed his alabaster skin, and he turned to the old willow to whom it belonged and smiled, for the branch had not extended out upon the path before he passed.

The tree wanted to touch him, to speak to him.

"What's he doing?" implored Gimli, halting next to Aragorn as they watched the elf, bathed in moonlight that seemed to touch only him, halt and place his long hand upon an old tree. He brought his fair face close to the rough bark and appeared to be listening and whispering in turn.

" He speaks to the trees, and likewise," murmured Aragorn. "All wood elves have this extraordinary gift."

" Why is he speaking to the tree?" the dwarf asked, forgetting in his wonder to appear unimpressed.

" I do not know. He hears their songs and they lead him through the forest when other means fail him. Some bring tidings and warnings. Let us hope that no ill bodes us."

Legolas returned to them presently.

"We will camp here tonight," he said softly. " Orcs passed here but three hours since our coming, bearing much pain to the forest. Their blades have opened wounds upon the life here- they must not be concerned with being followed. I am told that they have camped on the outer edge of the forest, at least a mile from where we will tarry for the night. If we go much further we will be too close."

" Can we not ambush them and free Merry and Pippin?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas shook his head. " Alas, it is not the assembly that have seized the periannath*," he said, "but another band of Uruk-Hai- a large one, much too large for us. I am told that they were separated from the main band before the battle at the shore began, and now they wander seeking what they were commanded to find and return to Mordor. We must not encounter them, for it would be no benefit to us, whether or not we were successful in destroying them."

" Any orc killed is a success," grumbled Gimli, touching the handle of his axe with vengeful fingers. Legolas smiled down at him.

" I agree with you, son of Gloin, but we must heed friendly warnings. To go against them would be a folly we can ill afford."

" Legolas is right," Aragorn said, looking about him and noticing for the first time that they were in a small, concealed clearing, densely wooded on all sides. Underfoot a soft, springy carpet of leaves blanketed the earth, and at once he felt sleep pulling him down to rest there. He stifled a yawn. " Let us rest here tonight."

Immediately Gimli flopped himself upon the earth and fell asleep, ruling himself out of first watch. Legolas smiled again and seated himself at the edge of the clearing.

" You are tired, Aragorn. Let me take the watch. I will wake you when I tire."

" Very well, my friend. I thank you, and the forest to allow us such comfort and safety."

" Goodnight, aran**," murmured Legolas. "May you find peace in your dreams."

Aragorn fell asleep, lulled by the elf's soft night-songs and his memories of times more unburdened. As he slept he dreamed of Gondor.

~*~*~*~*~*~

* Halflings (Sindarin)

** King (Sindarin)