Wahooooooooo!

I got another chapter out! I hope you all enjoy this one with a little Male-Elf territory competition going on. Don't worry, Celede handles it with her normal grace and attitude.

Enjoy and feel free to leave a nice little review! And remember a big thank you for Silmarien for beta-reading this chapter and making it a much more grammatically correct story.

Faeryn

I do not own LOTR.

Chapter Six

I really need to learn to keep my elvish mouth shut. It would keep me out of so much trouble. I mean, sarcasm can only get you so far.

I was sitting at an informal dinner, well I was informal. Everyone else was wearing dresses and nice clothing, and I was the blessed individual that was sitting between the Prince of Mirkwood and Gerion.

Lucky me.

I think they were having a competition of whom could be the biggest orc because if Legolas served me a piece of fruit, Gerion had to give me a piece of meat. If one refilled my goblet, the other had to give me seconds on dessert.

I have never been more ready for the plates to be removed, and I asked the servant, with a strained smile, for some water. If I got drunk, I would end up stabbing myself attempting to stab one of them.

They're lucky they took my steak knife away.

"Celede?" My head snapped up at hearing my name said by someone asking me a question other than if I need anything more of whatever we were eating at the time.

"Yes, Aragorn?" He is such a sweet man and insisted that I use his first name.

"What are your plans for the near future? Are you going back to Rivendell or Lothlorien?"

I hate that man. I had not even thought of such a thing actually. I mean, where would I go? I had homes in every major Elven settlement, but I did not have a place that I could actually call the place to spend eternity.

"Mirkwood." The words popped out in a moment of brilliant fascination. "My brothers are there, and it's been a while since I have seen them, so I will probably head there soon."

I say this in innocence.

"You have brothers?" Eowyn questioned me innocently.

"Yes. Two."

"Are they as...out going as you are?" Pippin questioned innocently.

I smiled, a true smile, at that. "No. They prefer to follow the rules. It's so much fun messing with their heads! I think they had a party when I left."

"No. They got royally drunk and told everyone how much peace and quiet meant to them," Legolas responded with a small smile. It really brought out his dimples.

Bad Celede!

"If you're going to Mirkwood, I shall be able to escort you as far as Lorien." Gerion commented, sounding smug.

Oh, Valar no.

I was just waiting for it...and BAM!

If Gerion were only able to escort me as far as Lorien, then Legolas was going to escort me the entire way. I would need protection from the orcs that had gone rouge.

My arguments that I was scarier than any Orc and that I was more than capable of handling myself fell on deaf ears. It wasn't until Pippin commented that Wraiths make less noise than I do, that I shut up.

I glared at Aragorn with the intensity of Mount Doom.

The King of Gondor had better watch his royal back. They had just gotten a new shipment of Apples in and I had very good aim with them.

He was SO going down.

~*~

I was laying on the ground, on my bedroll, my cloak covering me from head to toe, wishing to every Valar around that I was not in this position. But nothing could keep the polite words, words carefully chosen to cause as much damage as possible.

If they said one more word about the correct distance away from an un-married she-elf, I was going to scream. My hand shifted over and grasped the handle of the club I had sat next to me.

Gerion made the mistake of commenting on my virtue.

"If one of you," I screamed, rolling out from under my cloak (I was far past pretending by now), "Opens your mouth ONE MORE TIME, I am going to shove this club where it hurts! Do I need to clarify this? If you want to have children, BE QUIET!"

They stared at me, and I glared back, waving my club to add to my point, before snapping my cloak open and rolling under it.

It was silent for the rest of the night.

As you can imagine, the rest of the trip went along in the same fashion. I felt like I was the mother of two. If Legolas helped me out of the saddle, by dragging me out of it, Gerion insisted on picking the softest spot for me to lie down at.

It was ground. It was hard. The fact that I had a rock in my back all night had nothing to do with my irritation the next day.

I actually had to carry my club with me at all times to get them to behave. It was the most horrible time I can remember; it actually beat my trip with Arwen.

And it got worse.

It all started when my horse was shot out from under me. It fell with a whine and rolled on top of me.

I was thrilled.

But when I heard the orcs screaming around me, I was even happier. I could have danced a jig. When I heard LOTS of orcs and saw orcish feet, I felt like it was New Years Eve and I was drunk.

I shrieked.

That made it pause, and I watching in morbid fascination as an arrow grew out of its neck. It fell like a log.

I felt someone attempt to start moving my now dead horse and bit back another scream. It felt like he was attempting to saw my ankle off. I did, however, keep that to myself.

Really.

I heard the sounds of Orc falling and screaming and put two and two together.

Legolas was fighting the orcs while Gerion moved the horse. Gerion was not a fighter. Have I mentioned he plays a pansy harp? Feeling the horse move enough for me to shift out, I did so, my hand latching onto my club. Maneuvering to my feet, I almost cried out again at the feel of my ankle.

I, once again, kept this to myself. If I had learned anything under Haldir, this was doubtable; it was not to make a commotion until after the fight.

Swinging my club around, I heard the sickening crunch as it impacted with an orc's head.

I heard Gerion muttering under his breath 'how did she know?' and I was being dragged, forcefully and painfully (remember the ankle?) from the battlefield. I felt strong hands pull me onto a saddle, and I clung to the pommel for my life. I felt Legolas move behind me as he continued to fire arrows, at a rate that should have been an Elven record as Gerion saddled up.

Just as Legolas kicked his horse into motion, I watched as a black arrow embedded itself into Gerion's shoulder. I screamed, this time it was a scream and not a Nazgul impression.

But Gerion, bless his elvish heart, just hung on as we sped through the woods. I listened, but it did not sound like we were being followed. I turned and grasped Legolas' tunic in my hands, twisted it, and shrieked in his ear.

"Gerion has been shot!" Well, I did not put it into those terms but that works in a translation.

He must have read the slight panic in my gaze because one minute I was gazing at him, the next I was screaming and twisting in the saddle since he had jumped from his horse to Gerion's and was supporting him.

I was beyond creative imagery; I was in the process of seeing how much of a vocabulary I had.

Then he yelled something about lady like language and pointed to a cave WAY up high in a cliff. We would have to climb, and I stared at it in panic remembering about my ankle.

The next thing I know I am climbing, free style, to the lip of the cave because Legolas can't do it with Gerion on his back. Did I mention it's hard to climb up the bare face of a wall, even though you have been doing it since you were an Elfling, when you have silent tears tracking down your face?

My ankle HURT!

But there were orcs down there and Gerion needed to have that shoulder fixed. And even though I think he is a pain, I don't want an Orc to send him to Valinor when I can.

Reaching the cave, I groaned when I noticed how filthy it was, but there was one good point. There was a bunch of half-rotten wood, which meant we would not have to crawl down to get some.

Tossing down the rope, after I found something to tie it to (there were some nice size rocks), I watched as Legolas heaved himself up with Gerion and immediately began to check Gerion for poison.

Lucky dog, it wasn't poisoned. How we got that much luck I will never know, but when the Valar give you blessings, you don't count them. So I set to work on setting up camp.

I, of course, made Legolas go back down to get the bags. He started to argue and I placed my hands on my hips, shifted my weight, and glared. Of course the shifting was to take weight off my aching ankle, which I was STILL hiding, and he sighed and disappeared.

If he was staying up here because he thought I was going to jump Gerion in a quick case of worry, he had another thing coming. I did not do the sympathy bit at all.

If I did, I would have ended up in Legolas' bed the day I told him to crawl into a hole and die because I would never go riding with him. We were around six hundred years of age and he was still in his bumbling dwarf stage and had the tactics of an orc mode.

And very good puppy dog eyes.

Plopping down once we got Gerion settled, I placed a hand over my eyes. The sharp pain had been reduced to a dull ache and my eyes felt sticky from the tears I had shed earlier.

I wanted to curl into a ball and go to sleep.

Legolas had come back in with his packs and had settled down to attend to the gapping hole in Gerion's shoulder.

I was doing just fine watching Gerion sleep, apparently Legolas had learned some healing art from Aragorn, had treated his shoulder, and now Gerion was out like a light. I was doing fine, like I said, until he sat down next to me and brushed up against my ankle.

I sat up like a hobbit being chased by Nazgul.

He turned and stared at me, hard. I licked my lips and smiled. "So, how long is it going to be until he is awake?" Hey, the cave was drafty; I wanted out of there as soon as possible. It had nothing to do with me trying to divert the attention from my reaction to his touching my ankle. Nothing at all.

I could see the wheels turning in his head, almost as if he was backtracking mentally all that he had done. I continued to smile until his eyes dropped to my legs.

"Legolas?"

Did you know male elves can move REAL fast when provoked?

Before I could give a coherent squeak, yes squeaks are coherent, I was flat against the wall, both of my legs in his lap, while his gentle, callused fingers moved from my right knee downwards, trying to find an injury.

The fact that it was my left leg saved me for a short period of time.

"What do you think you are doing?" I snapped at him.

He ignored me and switched legs. "I am not hurt..." Here is the point where I broke off with a scream that would have made the dead Witch King proud.

He had brushed my ankle with those long Elvish fingers, and when I had jerked, he tightened his grip. On my ankle!

"Celede," His voice was soft as he gently removed my boot, " Why did you not tell me you were hurt?"

I stared at him wide eyed, panting for breath. Pain left me slightly breathless. "I think the arrow in the shoulder was just a little more urgent."

He raised his dark blue eyes to mine. "No. You should have told me. When did you do this?"

I sighed and began to fidget with the hem of my shirt. "I think when the horse fell on me."

He growled. "That long ago?"

I raised defiant eyes. "We have been just a little busy."

I was surprised when he grasped my hand and kissed all my knuckles. "Celede, nothing is more important to me than making sure that you are safe and perfectly healthy. You should have told me once we got to the cliffs."

I sighed. "I was not going to make you climb up that wall twice with dead weight."

He looked at me for a long time. I fidgeted. He told me, in a wry tone of voice, that he was going to have to wrap it and it was going to hurt for several days, and that I would be doing no strenuous work.

I batted my lashes and told him sure.

After mass amounts of pain, he did not exaggerate when he talked about pain, and remember, I have a small pain tolerance, I found myself wrapped in a cloak, full of Lembas and snuggled into his side.

Don't ask about being snuggled into his side. I did and got thoroughly kissed.

I must say he was incredibly warm. We had vetoed the fire when we discovered the cave did not have any ventilation, and Gerion was wrapped in his cloak and mine.

I was wrapped in Legolas' cloak; he too was wrapped in it, and I found myself warm despite what I had originally thought. My head was resting on his chest, and he was running his hands through my hair.

Time for me to take a trip to the path of dreams.

I woke once or twice to the sound of Gerion and Legolas talking. I immediately buried my face in his chest in pure exasperation, and woke at another time to his singing softly.

He never once loosened his grip on me.

I woke up the next morning and I think Isildor had an easier time giving up the One Ring than I had attempting to get Legolas to let me climb down the cliff. I had to threaten to jump down unless he took Gerion down first and then I threw the rope down after them.

He was not all that happy when I reached the bottom.

Let's just say I let him help me onto his horse's back with no questions or arguments. We still had a day or so of travel until we reached Lorien. I figured that I could get a healer to look at my ankle and we could be off.

I had underestimated Legolas again.

He stopped us about a half a day's journey from Lorien and made Gerion and I rest as he cooked dinner. It was some fish substance and I did not ask too many questions because he still had that dangerous look on his face.

Then he mixed both Gerion and I a sedative and forced us to drink it. Mine was only a light one so I was drowsy instead of knocked out like Gerion. Legolas' plan was to keep Gerion asleep as long as possible.

I, being me, was sprawled out on my cloak watching the flames; blinking sleepily. Sedatives normally caused me to sleep like a mortal, and so I was guaranteed a dead to the world night.

Actually I was halfway asleep when Legolas came back from wherever he had been. He could have been doing the whole macho thing and making sure we were safe, but you never knew.

I started quite badly when he laid down behind me.

He tucked me close, and me being an elf made of water, settled against him perfectly. My limbs were non-responsive thanks to the sedative so when I turned over and buried my nose in his chest, I wasn't to be held responsible.

"Celede, if you ever do something as stupid as you did today, I am not going to be held responsible for my actions." His tone was gentle, but chastising as well.

I mumbled something sarcastic and incoherent and promptly fell asleep.

Actually, I don't think that the sedative was light. Because the next time I woke up I felt like I was in a cotton ball. I was bouncing slightly attempting to wake up, but my eyelids felt like they were glued shut.

I made some muffled sound of protestation.

I heard something that in my delusional state sounded like a shushing noise and I attempted to protest that too.

I have mentioned that I do not react well to sedatives, right?

The bouncing continued and I felt a hand begin to rub along my back as I felt something rumble that could have been a voice talking from the long tunnel, but the fight I was having with my ability to stay awake was lost and I was gone again.

The next time I woke, I managed to blink open my eyes. I now understood why Elves slept with their eye's open, there was none of this adjusting to the light to go through.

It took a moment for the fact to register that I was lying on my side on a feather mattress to click in my head. It took another moment to register the warm object thrown over my waist.

I slowly turned and blinked at the sleeping Elf next to me. It took a moment to recognize him.

Blond hair. Hazy blue eyes. Legolas.

I yelped and managed to fall off the bed. I heard the sheets shift, and I just groaned from my position on the floor.

Sleepy blue eyes peered down at me in amusement.

"Feel like free falling this morning?"

I glared up at him and let him know exactly what I felt about being on the floor, begin given the sedative, being carried the rest of the way to Lorien, sharing a bed with him, being forced to share a cloak with him, the fact that my horse was shot, the fact that my ankle was twisted, not to mention the foul taste in my mouth.

I can be very expressive in the morning if I have to. I am one of the blessed elves that once they are up, they are up. Anger always helps, however.

His lips quirked, before he laughed. It was possible that my position on the floor had caused my yelling to be slightly less intimidating than normal. Even my impression of Elrond did nothing but make him laugh harder.

Apparently, I still only looked like an irritated kitten.

Heaving myself to my feet, I yelped when my foot came in contact with my full body weight.

I felt hands tug on me and I crashed into the bed with another thump. I began to mutter around my mouth full of pillow.

"Celede, are you always this vocal in the morning?" His tone was very amused. I managed to mutter something around the feathers, but from the laughter, I doubt he caught it.

So I repeated myself, this time after removing the pillow.

"Only when I wake up to annoying Elf Princes who have drugged me recently."

He grinned at that. "So I can expect a repeat of this performance for the rest of eternity?"

My eyes narrowed. Sometimes I think he is asking for pain. In a very smooth maneuver I shot my hands out and shoved him off the bed. I grinned delightedly down at his frowning face.

"In your dreams Elf Prince. In your Dreams."

He looked up at me then. "You have no idea."