A.N: at the foot!

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Chapter Five: Many Meetings

"So you're the kind that deals with the games in the mind
Well you confuse me in a way that I've never known
You confuse me in a way that I've never known
So break me shake me hate me take me over
When the madness stops then you will be alone" Break me shake me, Savage Garden.

@ Fangorn Forest, 26th February of 3019.

They had had a tough time working on the mind of Gandalf the Grey - apart from his extraordinary will, the Istar was still very shaken. In ten days, however, they had managed to build a believable story that would grant them free access to all the lands he was friends with – and with them being renegades, it was a hell of an improvement.

Gandalf was responding very well to their ministrations… until one afternoon, he started screaming imprecations and enchantments to the air. It lasted a good fifteen minutes, and then he stopped – looking positively terrible.

Damon, of course, hurried next to him.

"Anything amiss, Gandalf?" Good, the Slytherin was just perfect. Arien could hear the perfect amount of concern in his voice, even as she sat writing on her journal five meters away. She was always writing those things, for as far as he remembered. 'Helps me to see the connection between things.' She said once, and he replied 'Whatever floats your boat, Enn.'

"The Dark Lord almost found Frodo today… he must have been in a very dangerous situation to use the Ring so close to Mordor." He explained, sitting on the foot of a not-so-old tree. "I had to fight his will to divert his attention."

"You should have called our aid, Gandalf. We would have helped." Arien offered sincerely. After he had said what was going on, even the renegades felt like going out of their way to help.

"You are far too young for some things, Arien…" the Istar replied. Arien sneered on his back – she hated being called so.

Not to mention, it was odd to have someone you never met before acting as if you had been friends all your long lives. Even if you had cast the charm on him  yourself.

"If you say so …" she muttered, pushing out her tongue at Damon, who was chuckling quietly.

**'Damn you for making fun of me Damie'

**'What are friends for?'

**'Fuck off. Go kiss an orc. '

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@ Estemnete, Rohan. February 29 of 3019. (note at the foot!)

They had entered the lands of the mark. The altitude of the plateau was making it harder for them to breath while running. It was plain, at least, prairies as far as the (mortal) eyes can see, till it reached the forest of Fangorn.

Three days and three nights had passed and yet the walkers ran on. There was, after all, the tiniest hope that perhaps Merry and Pippin were alive, and for that they could not rest –that is, could not rest until the danger of missing the tracks imposed on them. And already Legolas complained about his heart warning him not to stop.

But alas, will does not solve anything, and neither Aragorn nor Gimli could sleep as they ran.

Following the trail Aragorn saw a green blur, a blot – something that moved very, very fast in the distance. He went to the ground and tried to discern the sounds with his ear on the rocks. But Legolas stood beside him, shading his bright elven-eyes with his long slender hand. He saw the riders, but it was Aragorn who spoke first:

"Riders!" he yelled, standing up. "Many riders on swift steeds, coming toward us!"

"Yes. There are one-hundred and five. Yellow is their hair, and their leader is very tall."

Aragorn smiled. So Legolas was showing off with Gimli, huh? It was strangely heartening, a tiny bit of normality in a quickly fading world. But of course he wouldn't push their lucks telling that, Gimli could realise the joke on his own. So he merely stated, unable to wipe off the smile from his face, "Keen are the eyes of elves."

And then Legolas decided to have mercy, as they were all too tired to play subtlety, "No! The riders are little more than five leagues distant."

"Five leagues or one," groaned Gimli, trying to hide the fact that he was breathless from their running, " we cannot escape them on bare land."

Well, that was something of an understatement.

"We will wait," said Aragorn, with an eerie look in his eyes. "I am weary and our hunt has failed. Or at least the others were before us; for these horsemen are riding back down the orc-trail. We may get news from them"

"Or spears," said Gimli.

"There are three empty saddles, but I see no hobbit," stated Legolas.

"I did not say we should hear good news. But be it good or bad, we will wait for them here."

The company of riders had quickly crossed the field from the forest, and had already gone past them, when Aragorn called – "Riders of Rohan, what news from the north?"

Upon hearing his shout, the riders turned around in great dexterity, moving as one, and encircled the three companions. Spears were directed to their throats.

"Who are you, and what business bring you to the lands of the Riddermark? Speak quickly!" said the leader.

"I am called Strider. I came out of the North. I am hunting orcs." At that, the rider jumped off his horse, drawled his sword and stopped right before Aragorn. The Rohirrim reckoned him for quite some time, before he spoke:

"At first I thought you yourselves were orcs," he said, "But now I see that is not so. Indeed you know little of orcs if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well armed, and they were many. You would have changed from hunters to prey if you had ever overtaken them. But there is something about you, Strider. This is not a name given to men. And odd are your clothes also. How did you appear from the grass? And how did you escape our sights? Are you from the fair folk?"

"No. Only one of us is of elfish folk, Legolas from the woodland realm in distant Mirkwood. But we have passed through Lothlórien and the gifts and the blessings of the Lady of the Woods come with us."

If possible, the man looked even more suspicious after hearing that. "So there is a Lady in the Golden Woods as the tales tell! Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days!" He paused. "But if you have her favour, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe." He gazed on the dwarf and the elf, a little behind and to the left of Aragorn. "Why do you not speak, silent ones?"

"Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more." Said Gimli, casually leaning on his axe. Aragorn suppressed a groan and put a hand on his shoulder, not only to show his friendship but also to contain the short-fused dwarf.

The rider should not have spoken ill of the Lady. Gimli had developed a rather curious infatuation for her.

And properly infuriated, the dwarf proved that size didn't matter.

But the rohirrim showed a very disturbing coolness, and his voice, when he replied, was silky and low - "As for that, the strangers must the stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am named Éomer, son of Éomund, and am called Third Marshal of Riddermark."

"Then Éomer, son of Éomund, Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf, Glóin's son warn you against foolish words. You speak of evil of that which is fair beyond reach of your thought and only little wit can excuse that."

Three against one hundred and five, and Gimli was picking a fight with the company.

Éomer was properly angered. And bugger, Aragorn had warned them about the people of Rohan being proud and wilful. "I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood a little higher from the ground."

"He stands not alone," said Legolas as he fitted an arrow on the bow and had it ready for the shot, "You would die before your stroke fell."

It does seem folly to the men around, except Aragorn who had been raised in Rivendell and knew the customs of the Eldar. For an elf does not run from his responsibility, nor leaves his friends, even when death is upon them and they have a chance to walk away. For running from their fates is a terrible thing from them, even if the fate is not a good one, and in that path lies doom and madness, as history proves.

"The riders closed the circle, and things would've ended up horribly, but Aragorn stepped in between and raised his hands in a sign of peace. "Your pardon, Éomer!" he exclaimed. "When you know more you will understand why you have angered my companions. We intend no evil to Rohan, nor to any of its folk, neither to man nor to horse. Will you hear our tale before you strike?"

"I will," he said. "But wanderers in the Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt…"

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn.  We track a band of Uruk-Hai, westward across the plain," Aragorn explained. "They have taken two of our friends captive."

"You need not pursue them further," Éomer responded. "The orcs are destroyed."

"Did you see two hobbits?" asked Gimli, all hostility forgotten.

"We found nothing but orcs," replied Éomer, with a surprisingly kind voice. "We left none alive."

"Did you search the slain?" Aragorn inquired. "Were there no bodies other than those of orc-kind? They would be small, only children to your eyes, unshod, but clad in grey."

Éomer seemed to debate something with himself. Then he whistled. "Hasufel! Arod!" And the horses went forward, like trained dogs. "May them bring you better luck than their former masters."

"Look for your friends, but do not trust hope. It is forsaken on these lands." Said the marshal forebodingly, and turned back to Edoras.

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@ Fangorn Forest, March 1st of 3019.

Their horses had fled during the night. Saruman had appeared – briefly. They were lost in the core of the one forest more dangerous than Mirkwood (although Mirkwood would be nothing to Legolas, as he lived there), and they had not found the hobbits yet.

And that was the bad news.

The good news was: they had proof of the survival of the two hobbits - and that was what had urged him into those woods, against the better warning of Lord Celeborn. That was the only good news, but after running non-stop for four days after the hope of seeing them alive again, it was really good news…

In the light of dawn they ate what food they had left and resumed their tasks.

"This forest is old," said Legolas, "So old it makes me feel young again, as I haven't felt since I began to journey with you children. It's full of memory… and anger… don't you feel the tension? You can hardly breathe!"

That could've been because the trees were so close to one another, as well, but Aragorn and Gimli took Legolas' word on it – if the elf said the forest was full of anger, then the forest was full of anger. The air was hard to breath, and there was almost no light piercing the foliage. It was a very depressing woods.

With that they dug deeper into the forest, following the trails of two hobbits – "That is good news," Aragorn had said, "but these tracks are two days old. And here they left the shore."

"What do we do now?" asked Gimli. "We brought little provision, and if we don't find them soon, we will be of no use but to starve with them as a sign of our friendship."

"If that's all that we can do, then we must do it. Let's go ahead." Said Aragorn.

Onwards they marched, to the abrupt clearing of the hill. "Let's come up and look around!" cried Legolas, "I still fight to breathe. I'd like to breathe free air for some time. We took a detour. Aragorn, look."

They walked a few meters, and suddenly Legolas stood very still. Aragorn knew that couldn't be good. "Aragorn, nad no ennas!" Aragorn, something's out there. the elf whispered.

"Man cenich?" what do you see? Aragorn asked, getting close to him.

"The White Wizard approaches. But he is not alone." The elf said, indicating his left with the slightest move of his fair head. They were standing on a high elevation of the stone, looking around to the forest surrounding them. It was thick, and heavy, and one can hardly see through the woods.

"Prepare your bow, Legolas. We must be quick, do not let him speak –or else he'll put a spell on us."

They tried, that can be said of them. And yet their weapons were thrown on the ground by an unseen force, leaving them unarmed before the people before them – a man involved in light, and two shadows behind him, below the stairs.

"Welcome friends. I wish a word with you, will you go down, or should I go up?" said the man, and there was a light teasing in his voice. Saruman was mocking them. Like a young sheep he climbed the stairs, standing before them. "Welcome, I say again. And you're all wore in elfish fashion, no doubt a tale worthy of being heard."

Then he laughed, and his laughter was like fresh rain.

"You are following the tracks of two hobbits. They were here the day before yesterday, and they met someone they did not expect." The man said, still clad in light. Aragorn then lost his temper, despite the fact that he was unable to use his sword.

"Who are you? Show yourself!"

"Haven't you guessed?" he said, and the light around him faded. They could now see the strangers behind him, but paid no attention, because men, elf and dwarf were more concerned about the wizard before them ((A.N.: They didn't know by then they were all wizards … lol!)).

"Mithrandir!" cried Legolas, and kneeled down.

"Gandalf!" inquired Aragorn, with a disbelieving tone. "But it cannot be! You fell!"

"Gandalf," he said… "Yes, that was my name." A heartfelt smile crept on his lips.

"Through fire and water I fell. And in the endless pit I fought my enemy –then the creature started to come up, climbing the Endless Stairs, a continuous spiral with thousands of stairs, that go to the deepest dungeon to the peak of the mountain. And when I defeated my enemy, I felt darkness. The stairs were around me, where every day is like an age of men. But I felt life in me again," he paused, looking at his companions. "I was sent back to fulfil my task. I turn back to you now at the turn of the tide."

"But swift like shadows we must be if we don't want that tide to drown us," said one of the beings behind him, and their attention was brought back to them.  They were both in dark green and brown, wearing olive cloaks that had a weird sign on their chests. And they were elves.

Elves with red hair. But elves don't have red hair!

"Oh yes, Damon, we must. I spoke of hope, but hope brings no victory if we stand still. War is upon us and our friends. I was Gandalf the grey, now I am Gandalf the White. But the Black is still more powerful."

The other's voice was heard, and with a gasp of surprise they realised it was, in fact, a she-elf. "We must be glad the temptation is now far from us, if anything else. "

"Oh, yes. This is Arien, and that is her sworn-brother Damon. But we will talk more on our way. Come now Aragorn, son of Arathorn! In the dark hours you have chosen wisely, and got your reward – otherwise we may have met only too late. But the search for your companions is over. Your next journey takes to Edoras, where you must look for Theoden. They need you."

"There is war in Rohan, and something else: I sense a shadow in the Golden Halls." Said Damon again.

**'I sense shadow in the golden halls? You're so full of crap, buddy.'

**'Like you did so very much different. Huh? Temptation away from us. Gosh, you sound like a protestant."

**'Don't be rude.'

**'Hit home?'

"Won't we see the merry hobbits again?" Asked Legolas.

**'Did you hear what they were talking about?'

**'No, you distracted me.'

**'Shit.'

"I did not say that," Gandalf said. "They are now with Fangorn. Who may know? Go where you must, and be hopeful! To Edoras! We go there as well. Will you go with me?"

"Yes, we leave together. And don't I say the truth when I said you could come faster than I? And I also say: you are our captain and our banner. We'll go wherever you take us."

~*~

They walked to the borders of the forest. Gimli was complaining about walking to Edoras on foot. Legolas was telling Gandalf how they had thought they had seen- and had, indeed, Gandalf replied, for I was not here last night – Saruman. Aragorn walked alongside with them, keeping a careful eye on the strangers.

Sure, they were elves but… they were weird. They acted weird. They were wary and on their guards, as someone who had been tossed in the nest of Mirkwood spiders, instead of being with friends of a friend.

And the she-elf looked as if she had seen an orc. Specifically, if Aragorn was the aforementioned orc. Odd. The first impulse of an elf would be to behave like that, yes he knew of it. But to behave like that towards Gimli! It was with the dwarves that elves had an issue, not mortal men. And she moved on as if the dwarf was nothing that could ever bother her.

But Aragorn bothered her. He could feel it. It was on the way she averted her gaze from his eyes.

An elf should hide her emotions more proficiently. Like the other, Damon. Aragorn couldn't say what he was thinking or feeling to save his dear life.

They kept to themselves, those strangers. They rode side by side with Gandalf, on their own horses – the five of them had come together when the wizard called. All they were able to take out of them was that they were from a very distant realm, that they were not blood-siblings but rather very close friends and that they were familiar with Fangorn.

And that they were friends of Gandalf's. And Gandalf could be trusted to befriend good people, so Aragorn wouldn't worry about them. And yet, he felt something in the back of his mind.

They rode all night long, apart from a few hours rest Gandalf allowed them.

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@ Edoras, Rohan. March 2nd of 3019.

The Southern Mountains were ahead of them, glittering golden as the rising sun reflected on the snow. Dawning had been particularly beautiful that day, with rosy rays of light coming from the mountain range. And Rohan was a beautiful country, with no mistake – there was an undeniable charm on the simplicity, the austerity and the dignity of both land and people.

They were still far from the city, when Gandalf spoke. "Look!" there was silence as they beheld the landscape before them. "Speak, Legolas! Tell us what you see ahead of us."

"I see a white river coming down from the snow. In the point it leaves the shadow of the mountains, a green hill spreads to the east. A ditch, a powerful wall, and a hedgerow of thorns. Inside, I see roofs of houses; and in the middle, over a green platform, rises imponent a big house of men. It seems to me its roof is made of gold, as golden are the rabbets. There I see men with shirts of metal but all the others inside the patio are asleep yet."

**'Show off' Arien used The Link to comment with Damon. They have been talking all night long, but the others couldn't tell. 'When in danger, tell the least you can, and listen as much as possible her mother had said, and it had served her fine till now.

**'I would appreciate it if you did an effort to behave a bit more convincingly, Enn. The man is getting suspicious.'

**'I know. Don't you think I know?'

**'So whatever the hell is wrong with you?'

**'He's creepy.

**'Language, Arien.'

**'This is my mind, Damon, so sod off. But seriously now, what should I do?'

**'Take a deep breath and act normal.'

**'Normal? What is that? I don't know what it is, I don't know how to act it.'

**'Figures.'

"The city is called Edoras, and Meduseld is the golden palace. There lives Theoden, son of Thengel, King of Rohan. We come with the rising sun – it's easier to see the road now. But we must ride carefully, for the war is spreading and the Rohirrin never sleeps, even when it seems they do. Do not draw any weapon, nor speak arrogant words, I warn you all, till we are before the throne of Theoden." Said Gandalf.

**'Couldn't he just say: we approach Edoras now, and that is the residence of the king. This are dangerous days, so please do not ask for trouble? No, he had to make a speech out of it. Oh, dear.' Thought Arien.

**'They ARE fond of words, no mistake there' Damon replied, and even his mental waves were filled with laughter. The renegades shared a lot of jokes, and made fun of basically everything, but their companions didn't notice- on the outside, they appear only serious, and focused.

With no other words they rode to the gates of the city, where a group of guards were already waiting for them.

"Halt, unknown strangers." said the guards, in their own language.  Then they asked for their names and business.

**'These guys certainly know how to be friendly.'

**'Why don't you sweep them off their feet telling you actually have been here before, Enn?'

**'Polyjuice. I was short, and blond. They wouldn't recognise me.'

"I understand what you say," said Gandalf in the same language. "but few foreign people do. Why don't you speak in the Common Tongue, if you want your questions answered?"

**'He has a point, you know.' Stated Damon.

"Theoden commands that no man should enter his gates without those who know our language and are our friends. Who are you, dressed in such a strange way, and why do you come in horses so alike our own? And this is one of the Mearas, unless our eyes are under some kind of spell."

**'Temping...' Arien mused.

**'I agree, but somehow I think it would threaten our already delicate position.'

**'Shit, Damie, speak normally, will you?'

**'This is my mind, and if you don't like it...'

**'Got it.'

"These are your horses, as you well knew before you asked. Éomer lent us them, and we came here to return them, as we promised. Did he not return, then, and tell about us?' said Aragorn, indicating Hasufel and Arod.

"I have nothing to say about Éomer, but perhaps your coming is not unexpected. You may come before the king, but not bear any weapons in his halls." Replied the guard, and the five companions removed their weapons. That, as you can see, took some time, as they were quite heavily armed. Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli made quite a show of it, threatening 'kill whoever touches these weapons'. But Aragorn was the cherry of the cake, making a big fuss about being the heir of Isildur, and the sword being re-forged, blah, blah, blah…

**'Honestly. For a second I thought we were travelling with grown ups.'

**'And you are so very different, aren't you?'

**'I don't make a show out of this.'

**'You have a wand up in your sleeve, Enn.'

**'Nobody needs to know about that.'

That was, of course, (relatively) peaceful till the guard asked for Gandalf's staff.

"Foolishness!" cried Gandalf, greatly insulted. "Caution is one thing, discourtesy is another. I am old. If I can't lean on my stick to walk there, then I will stay here, until Theoden himself comes limping here, to speak to me!"

Aragorn smiled. "Every man has something too dear to trust another. But would you part an old man from his walking stick? Come on, won't you let us in?"

"A walking stick in the hands of a wizard can be more than support. But I believe you are friends, and honoured people, without evil purposes. You may come in.," said Háma, the guard.

**'This is your cue, Enn. Go now.'

The guards rose the locking of the doors, and they opened soundly. The halls were dark and oppressive, and Arien shuddered, behind the line. Thought there were windows, and stone statues in natural size of the great kings of the past, near the columns.

**'It's like entering into a Celtic village in the medieval age.'

**'You're wasting time.'

She raced forward till she was side-by-side with Aragorn, and leaned her head closer to his –they were the same height – and whispered, "Part a man from his walking stick? My, my, Aragorn, you cunning fellow." And he didn't turn his head to answer, but the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. All that he said was, "Here is Eorl, The Young!" and pointed to a tapestry hanging on the wall.

And they were before the throne.

**'Gods, this guy needs a shopping service. He looks terrible.'

**'Ordinarily I'd say you're being girlie and futile, but I feel forced to say you're right, I could have nightmares for years over this.'

**'I will have nightmares over years because of Moria.'

**'That too.'

The king was so shrunken he looked like a dwarf, sitting on his throne, his white hair falling in braids from under his crown. Behind him stood a beautiful woman dressed in white, and in his right side, on his feet, sat a very, very pale man.

**'Freak show.' Arien pointed, a mixture of wonder and contempt in her thought.

"Hail Theoden, son of Thengel!" greeted Gandalf. "I have returned! You see, the storm draws near, and friends must stand together, or be destroyed one by one."

"I greet you, but I do not welcome you. You have always been a courier of ill news: problems follow you like crows, and the more frequently you appear, the worst. Why should I welcome you, Gandalf, storm crow? Tell me."

"You speak well, my lord." Said the pale man. His extremely pale face seemed to glow in the darkened room, not in the ethereal, unworldly way of the elves – and half-elven – but in an extremely sick, living-dead kind of way. "For it is not five days that thy son, Theodred, was slaughtered in the borders: thy right-arm, Second Marshal of Riddermark. In Éomer we cannot trust. Few men we have to guard our walls. And even now Gondor tells us that the Enemy stirs in the east. Why, in truth, should we welcome you master Stormcrow? I name you Láthspell, ill news; and ill news makes not good guest, so they say…" and with that he smiled. It was rather creepy.

**'They DO love words here. I have never seen someone take so long to say:" you are a git, get out of here" before. Mental, all of them.'

**'Quiet, Arien. I'm trying to pay attention.'

**'Sorry.'

"You are considered wise, and are doubtlessly a great friend to your master. But now keep your bifurcated tongue behind your teeth! I have not passed through fire and death to exchange hypocrite words with a servant."

And with that he raised his stick, and Gríma cried, "Didn't I warn thee, my Lord, to forbid that stick! That fool, Háma, betrayed us!" but a bright light invaded the room, and Gríma fell on the ground.

**'I think it answers the "are they wizards like us" question, doesn't it Damie?'

**'That, darling, was the understatement of the millennia.'

Then, of course, was when all hell broke loose. The guards went to Gandalf in a beeline, and of, course, it was up to them to keep the soldiers off the Istar. But Gandalf didn't look the slightest bit contrite about it, in fact, he kept going towards the throne as if nothing wrong had happened.

While the five people behind them kept his back by fighting hand-to-hand with the royal guard.

"The courtesy of your halls has lessened of late. Now, Theoden son of Thengel, will you not hear me? Are you seeking help?" he raised his stick and pointed to the window. "Not all is dark. Be courageous, Lord of the Horse Masters, as you will find no better aid. I have no counsel for the desperate, but I could give you some. Will you not listen? For they are not for any ears."

Slowly the king rose from his chair, and the woman in white ran to help him. They walked through the hall and out the door –by then the guards had stopped jumping at the foreigners - and Gandalf, of course, made a show out of the man going outside. They went outside to speak of strategical matters –still with Gandalf making a fuss of it, and then, of course, they had to witness the Lady In White, as Arien had called her in her thoughts, staring at Aragorn.

**'By all that's holy, what's the matter with her?'

**'Why?'

**'You have a drop dead gorgeous elf, and drop-dead gorgeous half-elf, and you drool over the filthy stinky human instead^? There is something WRONG with her, I'm telling you. Like blindness.'

**'That was rich, coming from someone who talks for hours about prejudice.

**'But let's be practical here. You can hardly see him under the filth. AND you have two images of sheer beauty in front of you. What in hell has she seen in him? Don't tell me it is his character, strong will, bravery and all that crap because she hardly knows him. Hell, we hardly know him, and only by what Gandalf told us.'

**'Got a point there.'

**'Of course I do. That girl is mental.'

"Now, my friend – breath free air again!" said Gandalf to the King, who was looking younger by the minute – he now stood straight, and had let go of his stick. The lines of worry on his forehead were diminishing as if they'd never been there at all.

"It is not so dark here." Said the King.

"No, nor the age weighs you as much as some want you to believe. Throw your staff away!"

**'Typical of him, to forget we are here at all.'

**'You are in a very poor mood, aren't you?'

**'PMS.'

**'Figures. I almost pity the orcs.'

**'Smart ass.'

"Dark have been my dreams of late. And now I wish you had come here before, Gandalf. For I fear it is too late, and you came only to see the last days of my house." Theoden said, still in a dream-like voice.

"Much we can do still. But first call for Éomer. He loves you much, and is a worthy man. Am I not right when I suppose you are keeping him prisoner, under the counsel of Gríma Wormtongue?"

"I will. And tell Háma to bring him to me, as he proved to be an untrusting sentinel, let him be a courier!"

Háma left, seemed very pleased – even if the king had acted with no small bit of sarcasm – and while he was gone Gandalf whispered confidentially with the Riddermark's king. Then Éomer returned and offered the King his sword – the King's, not Éomer's.

~*~

"Now come, my guests! Come and have what comfort this time allows."

They entered the great house and sat at the King's table. Theoden and Gandalf, as always, oblivious to everyone else's presence (save perhaps Aragorn's from time to time) went on and on discussing Saruman's betrayal. Wormtongue had left to his true master's tower, and the others were talking quietly. The White Lady, of course, kept staring and drooling at Aragorn – in a very discreet, very aristocratic sort of way. But at least now she was excused – he had bathed and shaved.

And looked devilishly handsome.

It was downright annoying. Not to say most unsettling.

Arien thought it was best not to look at him and kept talking with the others. It may have seemed a bit odd, but at least it was better than gawking on him. After all, he might get a big head after that.

And she had more pressing matters at hand. Like speaking with an elf as if they were elves, and not let him notice that they were a fraud, even when the elf was three thousand years old and extremely intelligent.

And one may imagine the state of agitation Gimli was in when they said their nation lays in the east.

"Keep your axe on your belt, Master Gimli;" said Damon in a silky, soothing way. "Not all the East is under the spell of the Enemy. Our nation lays there and we are not his minions."

Gimli didn't seem too convinced.

"Tell me about your homeland. I had never had the chance to know a dwarf before, and I am very curious." Arien asked.

That made the dwarf look even more suspicious.

"Was it something I said?' she spoke softly, frowning.

"Nay," said Legolas with a half-grin. He paused briefly to shoot a teasing glare on his dwarf-friend, "It's just that Gimli has yet to learn how to behave near beautiful elf-maidens."

"Well," said Arien in the same light tone, "whenever you find one, do tell her that."

"Why are you on these dangerous roads?" asked Aragorn, suddenly.

"If you come with that you-are-a-female-therefore-you-must-crawl-and-hide speech, I'll think less of you. Much less." She warned. More than a few Rohirrin warriors looked at her wonderingly.

"No, it's just that it's… "

"Weird?"

"Rare."

"Oh, I see. The military organization of the Middle-earth society would of course make the civilizations assume a somewhat… sexist… structure, I guess. But the Republic has been secluded for many millennia, and we have not bothered with anything till now. So you see, males and females are given the same privileges, and the same obligations."

"You mean, that she-elves are called upon defending the country as well?" said Aragorn, succeeding on keeping his amazement hidden in his voice –there was only the hint of a polite curiosity. The guy was a cosmopolite.

"Quite right." She beamed.

**'Careful. Don't speak too much.'

"But you seem so…young." Aragorn stated as politely as he managed.

"She is," spoke Damon for the first time. "Not even three hundred years old."

"That was rather rude of you, Damie."* Arien said in Antarian.

"She's a child." Said Legolas. Gimli stared at her.

"I am not! May I remind you, Master Legolas, that we are considered adults when we turn one-hundred?" thankyoumomthankyoumomthankyoumom…

"But you are still rather young."

God knows –and Valkyria, and Aimeé, and anyone who ever crossed paths with Arien in either Aryan or the Board of Wizards,- that her patience went only so far.

"Okay, so I'm rather young. It just happens that I'm the only antarian who has set foot outside the borders in fifteen millennia, and one who has the slightest idea on the mortal behaviour, plus the only one who speaks all  the languages of middle-earth. So, sorry if you don't like me, buddy, but I'm not leaving." She said in a high-pitched voice.

"Show off." Laughed Damon. But what he said in her mind was entirely different. **'Hadn't I warned you about not talking too much?'

**'Fuck it. We just charm their memories later.'

**'Who's the 'I-have-experience-with-spying-and-you-don't of us now?'

**'I may irritate them and still keep the cover, thanks loads.'

"I'm not showing off." She said with a contrite, embarrassed smile. To her utter horror, she also felt her cheeks warming, the sure signs of a telltale blush. Oh, dear.

Legolas expression, one minute ago so open and cheerful, was now once again guarded. "It is I who must apologise, milady," he said, but his eyes were still cold as ice; "For my bad choice of words."

She waved her hand as if it was nothing. "Forget it, if you can, and do not apologise. You cannot be blamed by my short temper. And you are right; anyway, I am still a child, in many ways. But this was a pressing matter, and we couldn't hold the events till I was ready for them – they needed a guide, and I was the only one available." She turned her gaze to the dwarf with her best iron-melting smile, the one that always had Andrea grinning and made her father search for the moon in the sky  and whatever else she may have wanted. "Did I lose my chance of hearing of the Mountain Realm? This is a pity indeed, and will certainly teach me to watch my mouth, as I was most curious after you spoke last night of it."

**'That was brilliant darling.'

**'I aim to please. Well, hang on: I make a very bad mistake every once in a while, but generally I fix it.'

**'Generally?'

**'Well, nobody's perfect. Not even me.'

Gimli, as expected, was way too happy to talk about the wonders of his homeland to find anything suspicious –if an elf wanted to be taught in why the dwarves were superior, he would oblige.

"Then let me tell you about the dwarf-real In Erebor, in the Lonely Mountain, and the glittering walls of stone that sparkle in the light…" started Gimli, with an eerie look on his eyes. For hours he spoke of the Stone-city, and the riches beneath the earth, and he even spoke of Bilbo.

"But certainly Gandalf told you that story." Gimli finished with a wave of his hands.

**'Well, not really. We really missed all this action, Damie…'

"Yes, but you cannot bath in the same river twice- the river is different, and so are you." She provided with a smile. Damon had monopolised the talk till then and made a wonderful job of it, but she would have to step in, like any female raised in equal conditions with males, would she not? "Although I must say it does clarify some things for me. Gandalf certainly found greatly amusing not to tell me that we were supposed to be unfriendly with you. He should have given us a warning. We would have done a better job at looking menacing and despicable."

**'Did I tell you how odd it is to hear you speaking like that?'

**'Don't tell me…'

"Oh, whatever would I do such thing for?" said Gandalf in the best boyish way a man that old could manage. Damon laughed.

"I'm glad you didn't." said the slytherin.

"How come you never knew of it? It's ancient story." Demanded Legolas – in his cool, detached, aristocratic tone.

"Antar has been isolated since the beginning of the first age." Stated Damon, as if he had nothing to hide.

"But you said you had walked off your country." Legolas insisted, the question implied in his silky voice.

"And I also said I never crossed paths with one dwarf before. I deal with humans, mostly." Honestly, one would think he was aggrieved by her not wanting to chop Gimli's head off.

"Humans?" asked Aragorn, who had quietly let Legolas do the questioning – for it was a questioning – "What are humans? A race I know?"

"I rather think you do! For you are one, that's what we call Mortal Men." Declared Damon.

"We think the term Mortal men is a bit…improper. Snobbish, even; no offence, Legolas."

His response was flat. "None taken."

**'Seems we got the dwarf and the human halfway gone. Unsurprisingly, the elf may be a problem.'  Arien commented.

**'Dammit.'

The renegades had no more time for talking because they were called to receive armours by the king. The rohirrim made a debate over who should lead the remaining people –that would go to the Temple in the Hill – and they decided it would be the Lady In White, Éowyn sister-daughter of Theoden.

They left the city with one thousand strong, in the middle of the afternoon, and rode non-stop till after dusk. Then, after a little halt, they resumed their ride. Éomer was carrying Gimli (who liked to look strong and foreboding but had a heart of melted butter) in his horse, as a sign of peace over some stupid quarrel they had had for a lady- **'well, at least they went back to their senses. 'Arien commented with Damon. But all the time she felt the hair on her nape standing up as it usually did when someone was watching her.

Legolas.

Peripheral vision.

**'So much for blending in the background.'

They rode all night long.

A.N: like it? Please review!