Note: Only the unknown characters are mine! The rest are J.R.R. Tolkien's creation! Elvish speech is in ''. Takes place a few hours after the last chapter. Warning for torture and language!

Focus

Part 13

A slim boy lay trembling in the snow; silent tears slid down his dirty face. Not a sound escaped his wavering lips, nothing but a faint moan, a small pitiful sound that was easily drowned out by the rush of biting wind about his lonely body. He stirred restlessly, tossing about on his cold, dirty, snow bed. Melted ice water soaked into his bedraggled

clothes, staining the worn dark browns a wet black. Even this discomfort, however, was as insignificant to the sleeping child as the massive knot, hidden by his hood, forming on his head. In fact, all his physical discomforts paled in comparison to his dreams. His dreams...and his memories.

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Flashback

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"Daddy!" a little boy screamed, bursting into the dark room. His brilliant, blue eyes widened in horror as he took in the scene before him.

There, on a red-stained alter, lay a man, shirtless, limp black hair fallen over half his face and matted to head and face with sticky dark fluid. His eyes were squeezed shut. Beads of sweat collected on his thin upper lip and lines of pain creased his forehead. But the most terrible of all were the long gashes, whip-marks, and knife punctures marring the once-smooth skin of the man's arms and torso.

The child screamed and ran towards his father, tears streaming down tiny cheeks. Something bad was happening to his father, and he had to do something! Somehow, he knew that he was the only one who could do something and that the man wearing strange black clothes and standing next to his father was hurting him.

Suddenly, the room spun and tilted as he was grabbed by a large man and tossed over the man's shoulder. Instinctively, he twisted and squirmed, trying to get free. He didn't understand why the man clutched at him so and dug his hard fingers into his tiny waist. Couldn't the man see he needed to help his father? If the man didn't let him down soon, it was going to be too late! As if in agreement, his father cried out in pain, red-streaked torso twisting in agony.

"Daddy!" the boy cried out again. His struggles intensified, finally forcing the large man who held him to drop him. Finding himself free, the tiny form darted once more toward his father, cleverly evading the harsh hands grabbing at him from behind.

The boy's lungs ached, but he was almost there! His father was only five steps away! He just needed to endure a little more. If he did that, he could help his father, and then his father would play with him like he said he would. Before he disappeared. And then...and then...

An invisible barrier struck the child, three steps away from his goal. He cried out, collapsing to the ground in a crumpled, shaking heap.

Disappointment and shock held him. He——he couldn't help his father! He couldn't. He couldn't get past that——that thing that blocked him. He was going to lose his daddy because he wasn't good enough, strong enough to help him...

As if sensing his son's thoughts, the bloodied figure on the black alter turned away his dark-haired murderer, turning instead to regard the slight form of his son. His gentle grey-blue eyes took in the slight shivers racking that small frame, the hitching sobs escaping from a tiny baby mouth, and he felt a sudden, desperate fear grab hold of him. The fear he felt at that moment was different from his fear of his tormentor, or of his impending death. No...his fear wasn't the fear of being killed or tortured. It was the fear of loss. Of perhaps losing his youngest child. If he himself died...then so be it. He could do nothing to prevent it at that point. He had lived, if not a full life, then a life that held so measure of happiness. His son was not even three years of age. And his son had a chance to get away.

"Run, Alistair," Josua pleaded, hearing Shiranai murmur the last incantations of the spell. As dizzying waves of red agony and black despair overtook his senses, he dimly heard a voice screaming in pain.

The voice was his own.

Alistair lunged at the invisible barrier, his efforts renewed by determination and fear. Fear from hearing his father, his *daddy*, cry out like that. Alistair was frightened, so very frightened. He was frightened for himself, and he was frightened for his sister for surely she wouldn't like hearing their father scream like that. But most of all, he was frightened for his father, and his fear fueled his determination.

It hurt. Yes, it hurt very much, painfully tearing his way through the barrier as he was doing. But his father *needed* him. And somehow, he knew that if he didn't get to his father, his father wouldn't play with him like he said he would. He wouldn't…wouldn't smile at him and told him he did a good job…wouldn't hug him when he scraped his knee and wash the dirt from the scrape...

Alistair tried to keep in the sniffles and sobs trying to escape him. He really tried. But the——the wall scratched and scraped him, and his father wasn't moving on the black table in front of him...

He——just——had——to——get——to——his——father.

Shiranai looked up from where he collapsed, weakened as he was by the sudden breaking of his barrier, just in time to see the boy reach his dying father. He smiled. It was far too late to save the man. Even he could not save Josua had he wanted to.

Alistair gently patted his father's cooling face, seeing the light fade from his father's gentle, blue eyes. "Daddy?" he whimpered, frightened. He shook his father. "Wake up, daddy!" Alistair wept, for he was afraid, sad, tired...

He wanted his daddy to look at him, smile at him, and give him piggy-back rides...He wanted his daddy to laugh and hold him… to tell him it was all a bad nightmare and that he shouldn't have gotten mud on his clothes again because the gods send bad nightmares to little kids who get their clothes dirty...He wanted his daddy to tickle him and...and he wanted his daddy to be alive! He wanted his father!

Shiranai stood, having finally regained control of his magic, disrupted when that blasted child tore through it in his hurry to get to his pathetic father. He looked to Tsuku for instruction, nodding when remorseless blue eyes glanced at him sharply. Yes. Tsuku was right. The insolent child needed to be punished. The brat had nearly ruined his spell!

Alistair turned a tear-streaked face towards the men approaching him. "You killed my daddy!" he shouted. Shira raised a contemptuous eyebrow and coldly struck the boy with dark energy. Bothersome brat, he thought. He glowered at the child, knocked unconscious by his power. His lip curled in contempt, and he hefted the tiny form over his right shoulder.

Tsuku followed Shira, his eyes holding a flicker of annoyance. "You know what you have to do now," he told his minion, not bothering to speak in his difficult, native tongue. After all, the hour was late, and he was tired.

Shira nodded and laid the now semi-conscious Alistair on the table. He opened a drawer in the table and pulled out a whip and two vials of potion. He dipped the whip in the larger bottle, soaking the material in the blue fluid.

For a moment, he ceased his ministrations on the whip, pausing to caress the instrument lovingly. It was no ordinary whip. Metal, sharpened to maximize the pain and damage inflicted, coated the rough leather. The whip was short, designed to strike only the face and hands of its intended victims with its multiple metal-coated leather strips. Shira frowned at the sight of dried blood on a few of the strips. It would not do to leave his precious tool dirty after its previous use. Such a valuable instrument needed to be treated with care and respect!

Shira shook his head, telling himself he would clean it after he used it on the brat on his table. Thus consoled, he placed the smaller vials on the table, making sure the smaller vial was out of Alistair's reach.

Shira smiled. He loved this part.

Slowly, he brought the whip up...and snapped it across the boy's hands. He did it again. And again. Faster and faster, each time making certain to dip the whip in the blue potion each time. The liquid would keep the boy's innate Elven healing power very limited. Soon, much too soon for his enjoyment, he had finished with the boy's hands. He started on the tiny face, grinning gleefully as Tsuku pinned the tiny boy to the table, keeping his face so perfectly still for the whipping.

Soon, far too soon again, he had finished with the face. What now...

Alistair screamed, feeling Shira start on his hands again, criss-crossing his new lashes with the old. Tsuku tightened his grip on the writhing boy and warned him to remain silent. But Alistair could not, would not. He hurt. He truly *hurt* as he had never done in his brief life before. It was unbearable, this burning, ripping pain in his face and hands. It was almost as unbearable as his father's death, as the knowledge that his gentle, kind father would never smile at him again. Never ruffle his dark hair in affection again or tickle him or...or...

Suddenly, the whipping stopped. Tsuku gripped Alistair's raw and bloody face cruelly, forcing the nearly three-year-old's mouth open. Shira opened the second vial of the potion and tipped the dark, burning fluid down his throat.

Alistair choked on the fluid. He didn't want to drink that burning water. It hurt, and he'd been hurt so much already...he started feeling sick. His normally brilliant blue eyes were clouded and dilated, and the world began spinning around him. He was dimly aware of two people speaking about...about...

Instinctively, he struggled to understand what they were talking about.

"How did he manage to destroy the barrier?" Tsuku questioned coldly. "He nearly ruined everything."

Shira believed that it was because of the strength of the boy's desire to reach his father and said as much. Tsuku nodded slowly.

"What of a name? He will not remember his own," Shira pointed out.

Tsuku shrugged. "Make something up. I'm going home." He left silently.

Alistair began to remember...a little. He felt strange, but he remembered his name. Why did they think that he would not? But...but these people were bad! They had killed his father. And he——he had to lie to them! Pretend he didn't know who he was. Otherwise, they would do more bad stuff!

Shira, seeing the child was awake, moved to look into the boy's eyes. "Are you all right, Meiyuu?" he asked, his voice soft with concern and deceit. Briefly he wondered where he came up with the ridiculous name, almost laughing when he remembered the name belonged to an elf sacrificed years ago.

The magician knew his memory potion was not perfect. There were still a few problems that needed to be worked... but he had no doubt it would work on a child. Even so, Shira gazed directly into Alis- no, Meiyuu's eyes, he corrected silently, just to be certain of the child's amnesia.

"I-Is that me n-name?" Alistair stammered, seemingly confused. He knew his daddy would scold him for lying, but this was important! He had to lie. He had to. It was important. He didn't know why it was important, but it was. The man with him wasn't good or kind. He wanted to hurt him, like he hurt——killed his father. Aching pain soared through his lacerated hands and face, utterly dwarfed by the pain in his heart.

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Meiyuu groaned, opened his eyes, and found himself lying face-first on the ground in the snow. He shivered, only just realizing how very cold he was...He started. He'd never remembered what had happened to his father so clearly before. Why did he choose to remember his father's death in such vivid detail now?

Alistair, Meiyuu wondered. Is that my name? He shrugged, temporarily putting the matter aside. It wasn't important, not at that moment. Meiyuu knew that both he and Legolas were in danger. He was a fool for running off like he had.

Legolas and Aragorn hadn't done anything wrong, Meiyuu snapped at himself. They couldn't have known the pain he felt when Aragorn hefted him over his shoulder in boyish play and jest. And he, like the fool he was, had run off. Legolas was probably going frantic!

Meiyuu shivered, curling into a little ball. It was too cold for him to move right then. He decided it would be prudent to wait until he got a little warmer. Freezing to death wouldn't help either Aragorn or Legolas.

Now, how had he wound up on the ground? The only plausible explanation was that he tripped or something and hit his head- yes...that must be it. It explained how he passed out and why his head hurt. As a result, his vision was a little blurry, but he was all right. He'd felt worse…much worse after…

Legolas and Aragorn called out Meiyuu's name. After the youth had fled, they had gone back to the temporary resting place to look for him. He hadn't been there. Concerned for the youth, Legolas and Aragorn, accompanied by Gimli and Frodo, had set out to search for him. Gimli and Frodo searched in one direction while Legolas and Aragorn searched in the opposite direction.

The Elf was severely worried for his young friend for Meiyuu had looked very distraught before he'd run off. The pain on his face had wrenched at Legolas' heartstrings. And the knowledge that the boy might be at the mercy of their pursuers...the thought was enough to make Legolas shudder. It was no wild thought, considering the attacks their enemies had sprung on them already. In the last one, that strange unknown man had attacked Meiyuu...Strange, that. Why did he attack Meiyuu? Legolas had a feeling that both Meiyuu and Aragorn were hiding something from him.

The object of his thoughts was engaged in similar worries. Aragorn feared that Meiyuu might have been ambushed and taken prisoner. To Aragorn, Meiyuu was still just a boy. He wouldn't have the energy to last against a prolonged attack. Even with that strange power...Aragorn furrowed his brow in confusion. Maybe Gandalf could explain what it was. It was strange, but useful. Which was exactly the problem. Shira wanted the power for himself. And he probably would do anything to get both Meiyuu and Legolas...The thought of the black wizard brought Aragorn to other matters. He wondered what the man had done to Meiyuu? The child was always so sad and withdrawn... The poor child, Aragorn mused. Had he ever had any happiness in his life?

Apparently not, Aragorn thought in horror, seeing a slight, huddled figure in the snow. He raced to Meiyuu's side, only a step behind Legolas.

Meiyuu sat up slowly and tentatively touched the growing bruise on his forehead. He muttered a choice word that would have made Aragorn very angry . In addition to being cold and wet, he was hurt too? Meiyuu was beginning to wonder if he was cursed. He certainly had the luck of someone who was. Light, quick footsteps caught his attention, and he looked up and saw Legolas and Aragorn approaching him. He decided he was *definitely* cursed. He didn't want to deal with them at that moment, because he knew that they would want him to answer the questions they would ask. Meiyuu also didn't want them to see him in his state. Gods, what would they think of him? Vaguely, he was grateful his hood hid the dirty stains and tear trails on his face.

Legolas frowned at the sight of his young friend sitting in the snow, his clothes soaked from the snow. "Why are you sitting here?" he asked, puzzled.

"'Cause I felt like it," Meiyuu muttered, though he knew that his Elven friend wouldn't believe that.

Aragorn reached down and offered the boy a hand. "C'mon, before you catch a cold."

Meiyuu eyed the older man, testing for any tricks. He then tried to take a hold of Aragorn's hand with his bandaged hand and...flinched. "Dam-darn."

"Here," Legolas said, taking a gentle but firm grip on his friend's arm. Aragorn took the boy's other arm, and together, the two pulled him to his feet.

"Thanks," Meiyuu said, avoiding the questioning gazes they were giving him. He sighed and muttered, "Shouldn't it be time to finish the trip?" He turned to return to camp. Two hands, one small and slender, the other large yet still remarkably beautiful, stopped him.

Aragorn shook the boy in exasperation. "Why did you react like that earlier?"

"Aragorn, stop it!" Legolas saw pain flash in Meiyuu's eyes. "Please, Meiyuu. We only want to help you."

"I don't need help," Meiyuu said. He lifted his eyes to meet Legolas' gaze, and he feigned nonchalance. "Wasn't anything, really. Just reminded me of when my father died."

By the blank stares Legolas and Aragorn gave him, Meiyuu knew he had lost them. They didn't understand.

He sighed, and shuffled his feet. "I was there… when he died. I saw the whole thing, when Shira killed him. Tsuku tried to hold me back and keep me from saving him." His voice, normally held so carefully indifferent, quavered.

Legolas wrapped an arm around his young friend's shoulders, horrified. Meiyuu had watched his father be murdered? The Elf shuddered and looked at Aragorn who looked like...he wanted to insert something sharp and metallic into Shira's heart.

"How old were you?" Aragorn asked, livid.

"I'm not sure. It was a real long time ago. I didn't really understand what was going on so I was probably quite young," Meiyuu said. "Still, I understood enough to know my father needed me. But I wasn't strong enough to save him. I was too little."

"I'm so sorry, Meiyuu," Legolas whispered, surprised his friend wasn't jumping away from physical contact as he normally did. "Let's go find Frodo and Gimli. They're looking for you, too."

Aragorn frowned and reached down, tugging Meiyuu's hood off. He frowned, seeing the dirt-streaked face and red eyes. And a bruise that looked as if it would never give Meiyuu enough piece of mind to sleep. "How did you get this knot, Meiyuu?"

Meiyuu shrugged. "I tripped and fell; at least I think I did. I was running and the next thing I knew, I was laying on the ground. Must've hit my head on a rock. But I'm ok."

"I see…" Aragorn took out his handkerchief and water bag. He poured some of the water onto the cloth and began cleaning the boy's face.

Legolas wagged a finger at Meiyuu and tsked. "You could catch an infection with all that dirt on your face."

Meiyuu only scowled and winced, sulking as the cold cloth removed the dirt.

Legolas and Aragorn were amazed to see that the scars were nearly all healed. Without a trace. One of Aragorn's eyebrows arched itself as he realized the boy truly was of Elven descent. There was no other way for scarring so extensive to heal so completely, especially in so short a time. The older man wondered why the scars hadn't healed before, and then remembered the potion he'd found inside the scars. It must have weakened Meiyuu's Elven healing ability, Aragorn reasoned.

Legolas, however, was only slightly amazed. He knew something about the Elven healing abilities, thanks to Aragorn, but it did not register that the talent was unique to the elves.

Meiyuu frowned. "What're you staring at, damn it?" He blanched and slowly backed away from the dark scowl on Aragorn's face. "S-sorry."

Aragorn grabbed a hold of the boy's arms and, winking at Legolas, marched the youth back towards the camp. "I did warn you," he said.

Meiyuu scowled. "Let go!"

Aragorn only ignored him.

Legolas followed silently, vainly trying to hide his amusement. "What will you do, Aragorn?" he asked.

Aragorn grinned. Quick as a dart, his free hand jabbed out and...began tickling the struggling boy.

"S-s-stop!" Meiyuu begged, peals of tortured laughter escaping his lips. Who knew he was to ticklish? He certainly hadn't.

He found it strangely comforting, despite the devious fingers that ripped giggles from him so expertly. Had he ever laughed like this before? Been so free? Enjoyed himself?

Surprisingly, his thoughts did not dampen his mood. But that, he supposed, was due to Aragorn's suddenly attacking his vulnerable sides, bringing about a fresh torrent of hysterical giggles. Oh gods...he couldn't take much more. He was going to tear something if he didn't stop laughing. He had to stop it...before he completely lost his self-control.

Legolas burst into merry laughter seeing Meiyuu deftly slip from the grasp of Aragorn's fingertips and put his own fingers to work, tickling Aragorn. At the sound of Elven laughter, Aragorn winked at Meiyuu and nudged towards Legolas. The youth grinned broadly and nodded.

Suddenly, Legolas found himself being assaulted on all sides, Meiyuu tickling him from the front, Aragorn from behind. "Please…" he begged, trying to hold in the wild giggles lodged in his throat and failing miserably as Aragorn took advantage of the sensitive skin at the base of his neck. In an attempt to calm the laughter spilling from his lips, he tried to escape, darting away from those too-sure fingers and...tripping over a rock. Aragorn tried to catch him, an arm slipping around his slim waist, but, unbalanced by the sudden weight, only managed to fall with him.

Meiyuu burst out laughing. "Problems balancing?" he teased.

Aragorn and Legolas looked at each other, silently agreeing on something. They stood and slowly advanced on the laughing boy. Meiyuu choked and backed away. Turning, he darted away from his grinning friends. He ran headfirst into something solid and hard. Muscular.

He gasped then, recognizing the man who had attacked him earlier. He backed away from the sneering figure.

"I told you I'd be back," the man snarled, grabbing Meiyuu's arm and brutally yanking the youth around.

Meiyuu struggled to be free of the iron grip, but he was distracted by the sudden appearance of his friend. A second hand snaked around his waist and held him still while the first released his arm and pressed a blade against Meiyuu's throat.

Meiyuu silently fumed. If he had only been paying more attention... The only way he could get free was to use his power. But...he wasn't certain if he wanted Legolas to know he had such…powers. What would Legolas think of him? And, Meiyuu suddenly realized, the Elf would be hurt he had kept this knowledge from him for so long. He didn't want to hurt Legolas like that. He didn't want to hurt the only friend he had. He really didn't want to lose the only friend he had.

The thought-of friend gritted his teeth. "Release him!"

"Surrender," the figure snapped instead. "Or the kid gets it." He snarled as he felt Meiyuu shift position slightly and increased the pressure on the blade. Seeing his friend's predicament, Legolas lowered his sword in defeat.

Meiyuu cursed silently. It looked like he didn't have much of a choice. "Don't believe him, Legolas! He wants me alive!" he cried.

Aragorn appeared, muscles tensing even as he took in the scene. This could be bad he knew. There wasn't much he could do without jeopardizing Meiyuu's life. He stared at the boy, hoping an answer would come to him. To his surprise, Meiyuu's eyes met his, a

silent question hidden in their blue depths: should I? Aragorn blinked in shock. Caught in the tension of the moment, he had forgotten about Meiyuu's powers. Abruptly, he nodded and braced himself.

Blue power erupted from Meiyuu, hurtling his captor from him. Somewhere in front of him, he heard a faint gasp, but even that was drowned out by thunderous energy streaming through his veins. Abruptly, the roaring stopped, and he felt the power

die down. He cracked open an eye. Good. The man was unconscious. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked around.

His gaze fell upon the astonished Legolas. The Elf looked stunned, as if he did not believe his eyes. Well, perhaps if he didn't, Meiyuu thought sadly. He silently wondered if that amazement on his friend's face would be replaced with anger and betrayal. Sooner

or later, Legolas would realize he had kept the knowledge of his powers from him.

Oblivious to the pain in the boy in front of him, Aragorn sighed, relieved, and glanced over at the unconscious figure in the snow. He shook his head and, sheathing Anduril, turned to Legolas and Meiyuu.

He found the Elf carefully inspecting his friend's body for injuries, his blade similarly sheathed. Meiyuu made a face at him.

"I'm fine," he muttered. "Though he spoiled the game."

Aragorn laughed at the disappointment in Meiyuu's voice. "We'll just have to play another one later," he consoled the boy.

Legolas looked at Aragorn, his mind clearly not on the light-hearted tickling spree they had engaged in a few moments before. He raised an eyebrow pointedly.

The human winced at the pain in his love's eyes before nodding hesitantly. He didn't really want to give Legolas an explanation on *why* they had kept Meiyuu's powers a secret, but he knew he had no choice. Legolas deserved the truth. He would tell the Elf, but not right then. Meiyuu was watching them. He gestured towards the boy and mouthed, "Later."

Legolas frowned slightly but nodded.

They headed back towards the camp, each lost in their own thoughts.

The wind blew at the naked trees around them, stirring the thin branches vulnerable branches at the very top. How the wind seemed to echo Meiyuu's thoughts! He would have been surprised, if he could focus on his surroundings to be surprised. No. He thought of the sudden coldness Legolas had exuded after that display of his——power. Despite what Aragorn or Legolas believed, he was not oblivious to the little exchange between the two. He *knew* that Legolas was hurt and that it was because of him. He

just *knew* he had almost caused a fight between the two. Gods-be-damned, couldn't he *not* cause trouble for once? He'd been such a nuisance to them...forcing Aragorn to take time to treat his wounds, coming between Legolas and Aragorn...

He swallowed the bitterness in his mouth.

Gimli and Frodo ran over to him. Seeing Meiyuu unhurt, Frodo smiled brightly, and even Gimli ruffled the boy's hair gruffly. Meiyuu scowled at the treatment and glared at the dwarf. Frodo decided it wise to hide his smile. He turned to look at Legolas and Aragorn, both of whom refused to look at the other. He felt unease crawl down his spine.

"Are we going to walk until we reach Middle Earth?" Gimli grunted, breaking the silence. He ignored the obvious tension.

Aragorn nodded. "We were attacked. We need to keep moving."

"Agreed," Legolas murmured quietly. He turned to Meiyuu. "Ready?"

Meiyuu nodded. He offered to help carry some of the supplies, not having anything of his own to carry, but Aragorn interfered, arguing that the boy's hands were hurt, after all, and it did not seem a good idea to burden him. Meiyuu stood, shocked. Despite Aragorn's treating his wounds, taking care of him, being kind to him, the caring gesture surprised

him. It was a gentle thing to do, a thing one did not do for mere acquaintances. It was something reserved for...friends.

He looked uncertainly at Aragorn. Was it truly...he trembled, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions: fear, shame, and, surprisingly, joy. Meiyuu suddenly reached up and pulled his hood down, surprised that he'd forgotten it for so long. Aragorn narrowed his eyes but said nothing. The youth tended to hide from the world and his hood was the door he hid behind; that much he guessed.

The group of five, after four of them grabbed their packs, resumed their journey. Legolas walked beside Meiyuu, asking the boy what he had been like when he'd first come to the town. Frodo, on the boy's other side, listened to the conversation. Aragorn took the lead,

watching for trouble, while Gimli brought up the rear, keeping an eye out for Shira and his friends.

It was a tactically defensive strategy, Meiyuu noted, as he quietly answered Legolas' questions. Their enemies would not be able to attack them unawares. They had a good chance of reaching Middle Earth, actually. And what then, he wondered. What was going to happen to him when they reached Rivendell or wherever? He wouldn't have to worry about Legolas, Aragorn would shelter and protect the gentle Elf, but where would *he* go? He didn't belong anywhere. He was an orphan. An orphan who had lived his entire life in a remote, isolated village. Where did that leave him? He didn't know.

Soon, five hours rolled by. In the back of his mind, Aragorn observed that the terrain was more even and that there was less snow covering the ground. They were in Middle Earth.

He looked over his friends. Gimli seemed all right, but he was used to such long treks. Legolas looked winded. Perhaps it was time they stop. His gaze traveled to the last two people in the group. Frodo and Meiyuu looked as if they would drop from fatigue

any moment. It was definitely time to stop. They were near Rivendell, he knew, but it was still a long journey. They certainly weren't going to reach Rivendell that night, and Frodo and Meiyuu needed to rest.

Even as he watched, Meiyuu stifled a yawn. He smirked, amused. The youth was really no more than a tired boy at that moment. Meiyuu glared at him, blue eyes challenging him to call him on his fatigue.

Fortunately, Aragorn was spared from having to do so by Legolas' tired groan. The Elf looked miserable, scowling at his feet as if they hurt him. Perhaps they did. Legolas had never traveled so far before, save in the quest of the One Ring of which he only remembered snippets of.

Aragorn sighed. They needed rest. He knew that even he could walk for no more than two more hours. Now if he could only find a suitable resting place...he smiled. There, around 70 paces to the right, was a clearing, nearly free of snow, partly obscured by tall

bushes and brush. It would do.

Meiyuu and Frodo sank to the ground blissfully. The Hobbit dug out a blanket and went to sleep. Meiyuu simply curled and slept, thin face finally relaxed.

Aragorn wondered when he had last seen Meiyuu eat. He realized that he had not seen the boy eat at all, and was surprised to realize that. Either Meiyuu ate secretly, or he did not eat at all. Aragorn highly doubted it was the former. He sighed and dug a few apples out of his discarded pack. Walking over to the boy, he gently shook Meiyuu's shoulder. A hand came flying towards him; it was a purely defensive reflex, and Aragorn caught it.

Meiyuu wearily opened his eyes. "What?" he asked irritably, wanting to go back to sleep.

"Eat," Aragorn said sternly. He would brook no argument. The boy was *going* to eat, even if he had to force the food down his throat. Fortunately, Meiyuu was too tired to argue, so he took the apples and began eating them.

Aragorn felt eyes upon him. He looked up and saw Legolas gazing at him silently. Approval was in the Elf's eyes before another emotion crossed his face. He stood and left the camp silently.

Meiyuu chewed the bite he had just taken and swallowed. "Going after him, Aragorn?" he asked in a low voice. He bit into the apple again, curious.

Aragorn nodded, and stood. "Indeed," he said, walking away, following Legolas, and leaving Gimli in charge.

Meiyuu finished the apples and stretched out, falling back asleep.

Legolas waited for Aragorn to arrive, standing silently in a small clearing adjacent to the one he had left. He heard soft footsteps behind him and he turned, expecting to see Aragorn. He wasn't disappointed. For a few moments, the two just stood there, gazing at each other.

To be continued