Chapter 5



Although it was June, nights were quite cool, emphasized by the darkness left by a moon covered in clouds. The seven members of the Fellowship continued riding, but slowly, as their ponies had to carefully pick out each step, the darkness around them total.

Carefully holding his bundle, Legolas guided Arod around gopher holes and rocks with quiet words. Shifting her weight to the right, he again wondered at the heat emanating from her body. Elves had traditionally preferred warmer weather, although the cold never bothered them.

**Until now,** Legolas thought grimly. With the fall of Sauron and the destruction of the Ring, he had noticed a change immediately. First it had been quite slight, gradually intensifying. He was cold. Only when out in the bright day sun did his blood warm. Nights such as these caused him to wrap his Elven cloak tightly around his body, tucking in the loose ends. Coldness was not the only change.

Elves lived for several thousands of years. At some point during that time, they often entered a sort of dream like existence. They were aware of the world around them and could be ready in an instant, but the world also seemed to disappear. There was no future, no past, only now. Legolas himself could remember entire years spent without moving, lost in contemplation, in thought. His body had always felt light, as though it could float away. Suddenly, with the destruction of the Ring, the past had rushed back into his consciousness. Before, memories, although always in his mind, had lain dormant, all but forgotten. With the fall of the Ring, these memories had come flooding back, filling his thoughts with all the pain and joy he had once felt. Somewhere in time he had felt his emotions lessening. The quick-to-laugh and hot-headed boy of his youth had grown into a man. But through it all there had been a yearning. He had wanted to feel again. He wanted that rush of emotion, of anger, of hate, of love, of desire. When his father, King of the Mirkwood Elves requested that he go to Rivendell as a representative, he had swiftly agreed. It was as though he had begun to awaken from a long sleep. Once again, he felt his blood singing through his veins, when he stopped to listen to the music of the trees and forest it was fresh and new. Now, he still felt alive and ready, but the world seemed harsh, too real. The West called and he listened. Perhaps it was time to go. Perhaps he had fought his last battle, had his fleeting touch of glory. Long ago, Legolas had accepted that it was not in his future to be a hero. In battle, that right had always gone to his father, the King. In the Fellowship, it had been Frodo, the Ring-bearer or Aragorn, the leader, even Merry and Pippin had earned their recognition. Though he had fought admirably and bravely, he was no hero and tried to accept his place. When it was time, he would go quietly into the West. But for now, the bundle in his arms held his attention. She was so very warm, enough to warm him as well. He studied her face, searching for clues of her ancestry and origins. They had not taken the time to wash away much of the blood, so he could not entirely make out her features, but they were obviously human. They lacked the delicate, elegant lines of Elves. Looking down, he checked to see that the yellow dog followed faithfully. The animal was muscular and well-fed, so they could not have been wandering very long. He did find it curious that she had no provisions with her, and found her clothing quite an odd choice for trekking through the forest. Had she intended to jump, he wondered, or had she fallen? He looked down at the snub, turned up nose (rather Hobbit like, he mused) and full, wide mouth above a strong chin. He was intrigued.



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Hours later, the seven companions sat by a fire, listening to another Elven tale told in song. The Hobbits listened raptly, their eyes shining, while even the gruff Dwarf paid close attention. Aragorn paced a bit away, keeping watch, although for what, he could not say. Miranda lay prone on a sleep-sack near Gimli, her head pillowed on a folded cloak. Nearly ten hours had passed since she had fainted, and she awoke feeling ravenous. Remembering the last time she woke, she lay very still, breathing deeply. As her eyes focused, she realized she was looking at the Viking. It hadn't been a dream. Looking around surreptitiously, she saw that Vulcan was singing (singing?!) In an odd, vowelly language. She listened for a bit, surprised to her the 'th' theta quite often.

**Only English and Gaelic use the theta.....huh...** she thought to herself. She tried to roll over and realized she was stuck.

"Hey! What the hell? Untie me this instant, you...you....fascists!" she shouted for lack of a better term. Struggling, she was pleased to realize her shoulder no longer hurt although the rest of her still ached quite a lot. She stopped struggling. The midgets were eyeing her with obvious distrust, while Viking had his ham-like fist wrapped around an axe, though he eyed her more with pity than with fear.

Legolas quickly understood what was causing her distress and quickly loosed the cloak which had been wrapped tightly around her. He held it up for her to see, then handed it to her carefully.

"Oh. Right, then. Just keeping me warm and all, weren't you? And I'm a right arse. Sorry," she prattled, feeling stupid. They all continued to eye her nervously, so she sat back carefully and smiled a bit. No sense in angering the natives, after all. They didn't look like cannibals, but you never know.... A soft yap near her ear brought her quick relief. Maggie was still there.

**Not sure what we're doing here, old girl, but at least you came with!** she thought. The others had relaxed when they were certain she was in no condition to attack and had begun to talk amongst themselves again, this time the speech was the one they'd used earlier when they'd been arguing. She listened closely, trying to pick out individual words and get a sense of the structure. But her head was still throbbing. She rubbed it gingerly and noticed that Vulcan was watching her.

**Well he's certainly a cutie,** she thought idly. **A pretty face and even prettier body. 'All the better to hide a wicked heart',** she misquoted to herself. Several bad break-ups had caused her to distrust very attractive men. She didn't quite understand what a gorgeous man would want with her, since he could generally have his pick. Beautiful women were not in short supply in London. Her father and her brothers had all been very attractive men. And they were monsters. Well, perhaps not monsters, but sub-evil, mean creatures. She had always thought like goes with like. A plain woman fits best with a plain man. However, she was certainly free to stare back and enjoy the view. He was quite tall, with a finely boned face and long blonde hair. That, surprisingly, did not make him look either girlie or like he belonged in a hair-metal band. She also noticed how easily he sat, his legs folded underneath. On any other man, this position would have seemed affected and rather nancy-boyish, but with him, it just looked relaxed.

Uh-oh. Vulcan had stood and was moving towards her, a hesitant smile on his face.

**What does he want- oh,** she relaxed as she realized he was bringing her what looked like food. Some sort of meat and carrots. Unless they were trying to poison her.

Legolas noticed her hesitance in eating and made eating motions with his hands. She still looked doubtful.

"Maybe she believes we have poisoned her food," Gimli rumbled incisively. "After all, we have kidnaped her and 'tied' her limbs," he joked. Using his own knife, he pared a strip of meat from her plate and made a production out of eating, showing his large white teeth and patting his stomach. Swallowing, he smiled at her.

Miranda was surprised when Viking seemed to read her mind, but his smile and eyes were astoundingly warm. She smiled back and began eating.

Legolas watched the exchange with a light frown. Why had she trusted Gimli, and not him? Quite odd. After dinner, they settled back into story-telling mode, this time, one of the midgets was speaking and whatever he said, it must have been quite funny. At least, that's what it seemed like. Gradually, Miranda realized Trenchcoat was watching her. She'd noticed when he'd returned and Vulcan had disappeared. Trenchcoat smiled gently at her and touched his hand to his temple.

"Aragorn," he said, tapping his head. Huh?

"Ara-goan," Miranda repeated stupidly, tapping her own head. She hoped she wasn't agreeing to sell her body or anything of the like. Trenchcoat shook his head, still smiling and brought both hands to his chest, tapping himself,

"Aragorn." Ahhh! Now she got it. Tapping her own chest, she said,

"Miranda." Then she pointed at him and repeated, "Ara-goan," with a questioning look, which was hopefully universal.

Aragorn looked relieved and nodded. The others had noticed and were watching the exchange. He pointed at her and stumbled over,

"Meer-anda!" She nodded and they grinned at each other, stupidly. Pointing to each in turn, Aragorn introduced the Hobbits and Gimli. Miranda repeated each name and smiled at each person. Frodo, Pippin and Merry (Mary?) had smiled back, while Sam blushed and Gimli bowed. For moment they all sat around looking at each other as the moment got more and more uncomfortable. Then Sam shyly tugged at the cloak wrapped round her shoulders. When she looked at him, he raised his eyebrows and tapped the dog whose (traitorous) head was lolling in his lap, although she was large enough, the hobbit could have ridden her.

**This midget- no, Sam,** she corrected herself, ** must have a natural affinity to animals.** She'd never seen Maggie take to a man or boy so easily. But watching the curly-haired midget lovingly scratch the dog's ears, she recognized a kindred-soul. Anyone who loved animals had to be all right. The rest of the night was spent with Maggie pointing at things and the others telling her what it was in their language. By the time they fell into their sleepsacks, she was exhausted and her ankle was throbbing again. What she wouldn't give for an aspirin!!









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Might be weekend before I update again, but keep reading! I have a sneaking suspicion I'm no longer in control here. The characters seem to want to tell the story their way....sigh.....what can you do? My little character piece seems to be taking on a novel-like appearance.