Hey, everybody. This chapter is going to be a bit... different than most stories. Hope you like it! If you do or if you don't, review it anyway!

Chapter 10. Breaks

In memories, time seems to have flown more quickly than an un-laden European (or African) swallow, but at that moment, my feet believed otherwise, as did my stomach. I was tired, hungry, cold, and not a little bit peevish, as I had been walking forever, and it seemed that was how long it had been since a truly satisfying meal. Mine, however, was not the only fellowship temper running high. Minor navigational disagreements would often cause tense silences for days. We were at the breaking point. 'What we all need is a celebration,' I found myself practically screaming in a high-pitched, strained voice. Everyone jumped, as if my speaking were a ridiculously heinous crime. Then Aniron slowly responded, 'Yes. Yes, that sounds just perfect to make us feel better.' Pippin cracked a smile, which slowly spread through the rest of the hobbits and on to the fellowship. Even Bill the pony seemed to be relieved at the idea of a relaxing moment. Gandalf nodded slowly, and the plans proceeded. 'We should have lots of food! Lots and lots,' shouted Merry (typical). 'And competitions!' 'Songs, and stories!' Everyone was soon caught up in the thrill, planning and preparing for a night of fun. But tension remained in the air, like a wet wool blanket on our souls.

That evening, Sam used all his cooking abilities to make a meal unlike any we had eaten in a good stretch of time. We laughed, sang, and joked, but still the nervous air of one trapped in a small room with hungry cobras hung around us. We decided, after eating, that we would hold our competitions in various locations near the camp. Bows, quivers, and blades were brought out, courses marked, and targets set up. As Aniron and myself strode back into camp from marking a finishing line for the footrace, I caught a snatch of Legolas' conversation with Aragorn and Gandalf.

'I don't think that we would want them injured, now would we?' Aragorn seemed to consider for a moment, then replied, 'No, but I believe that they could hold their own in any competition we have. Aniron has great skill with a blade, and Elerian has had training in the use of a bow. I've seen her shoot at a standing target, and she is quite capable.' Gandalf said nothing, but looked over Legolas' shoulder at me, and his eyes said everything I felt, and yet advised me to give him another chance. I knew it was not the right time to confront him; everything was already too strained to add straws to the camel.

The games began with a footrace. Gandalf did not participate, and acted instead as a judge. Gimli came last, weighed down by his heavy armor, just behind Sam, who huffed and puffed all the way. Next were Merry, Pippin, and Frodo, who stumbled often and laughed always. Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas, Aniron, and I all raced hard for the end, but Aniron and I pulled ahead, and finished the race in a tie. Aragorn grinned with pride in us, but Legolas' smile was a bit forced. I ignored him, hoping fervently, praying desperately, that he would come around.

Next came a competition of blades. I sat out, afraid of injury, for I had never been proficient in the study of swordplay (or daggers, or axes, or... well, you get the idea.) The hobbits worked as a team, and together won second place to Aragorn. Legolas was this time truly proud of his friend. Why does he rejoice in the accomplishments of Aragorn, but will not even smile when I excel? Why are my triumphs not triumphant, my victories not victorious? What's wrong with him?

After a brief break to drink and replenish lost energy, the third and final challenge had arrived- archery. This competition had only three participants: Legolas, Aniron, and myself. We had three shots, and whoever could hit closest to the center the most frequently would be declared champion. The first shot, all three of us hit the mark. Second, we hit it again, dead center. The tension had shot up higher than the peak of Caradhras as we aimed our final arrows. Silence prevailed, and my hands shook almost to the point that I dropped the bow. Three shafts spun into the trees, and we ran after them to see who was to be the winner. I stopped dead still in shock.

I had been so nervous, thought for sure I couldn't win, but apparently so had Aniron and Legolas! My shot had gone slightly off-center, but it was still the closest! Everyone was really proud of me, but over the shoulder of an emphatic hugger, I watched Legolas turn away with a deep scowl. That was it; I just couldn't take any more of this sore-loser attitude. What was so bad about me winning? I broke away from my mini-celebration to go talk to him. The rest of the fellowship could sense the tension and followed only with their eyes.

'Why aren't you celebrating? Aren't you proud of me?' I started calmly, but like a volcano, it was only a matter of time till I exploded. I waited. I continued to wait. Finally he whispered, 'Good job at using your beginner's luck. Besides the fact that I let you win.' I was shocked, and informed him of it, saying, 'Let me win? If you had let me win, you wouldn't be upset. You just can't lose, and you know it.' 'I can't lose because I never have to lose.' As he walked away, tears dripped onto the bow that had slipped from my hand. I left it there, hating it almost as much as him.

Author's Note: Now wasn't that different? Not too funny or romantic, but that's ok. Tag, you're it, Aniron.