Sam sat on a low bench along the edge of the training ring, watching Miranda and Eowyn spar.  Though Eowyn was by far the better swordsman, Miranda held her own, having been trained the past few months by Legolas.  Legolas, however, had seemingly disappeared in the past two weeks.  He and Aragorn were holed up in the battle room with several of Gondor's top generals, planning their attack.  Sam had watched Miranda as she waited each day at the usual time.  Though she said nothing, Sam saw the disappointment on her face when only Eowyn appeared. 

He sighed, and shifted his buttocks into a more comfortable position, wishing he had a pipe and some Shire weed.  The thought of the Shire brought tears to his eyes as he thought of his beloved Rosie.

"Ah, Rose…" he whispered to himself.  He missed her beyond reason, but Frodo would not leave Aragorn in his time of need, and Sam would not leave Frodo.  Since they had left the Shire, Frodo had come alive again.  Though he would occasionally stare off into the fire, or grimace in hidden pain, Frodo seemed much more animated.  Here, he had a purpose.

 Sam wondered at the difference in his friend.  He thought to the last time they traveled through Gondor.  The Ring had weighed so heavily on Frodo, he could think of nothing but it.  Now, Frodo would smile sometimes.  He sat companionably with Miranda and Sam in the evenings, telling stories and remembering.  When he returned to the Shire, Sam feared Frodo would again withdraw into himself.  And so he was torn between his love for Rose and his love for Frodo.

He sighed one last time and noticed that the sun was nearly directly above.  Pushing off the bench, he went in search of luncheon.

**********

Miranda stared out the window, tapping her hand impatiently against her thigh.  In the past month since Aragorn's return, the snow had started to melt, leaving the ground muddy and the early March sky, grey.  She watched the rain run off the roof of the building below her window and splash dully into a great, round barrel.

The Hobbits would come soon to accompany her to dinner. Faramir was hosting a farewell dinner for the one hundred soldiers who were accompanying Aragorn and Elrond.  It had been agreed that Miranda would come along so that she would be in the area for the next summer solstice.

As the weeks progressed, Miranda had become more and more interested in the idea of returning home. 

**And it has nothing to do with the fact I've become invisible to a certain Elf,** she thought sourly. Legolas was avoiding her, she was positive. **He buggered off quickly enough.  Why? He wanted me!  That was bloody obvious. Typical male.  One hint of closeness and off they go.** She groaned in frustration and anger.

Her plans had finalized when she had heard of Aragorn's decree: No humans were allowed in the Shire. She had nowhere else to go.

"Just think, Miranda!  You can go home, Miranda!  Leave me alone so I can go snog some skinny, celestial Elf princess, Miranda," she mimicked snidely.  "Well have at it, Legolas.  I don't need this crap again."

 Refusing to wear a dress (**What for?  No one here gives a damn about what I wear**), she had pulled on her old jeans and a tunic given to her by Eowyn.  Fixing a look of bored indifference to cover up the hurt, she went down the stairs to the hall with Merry and Pippin. 

            The dinner began as a somber, quiet affair.  The idea of possible war and the reason for their departure restrained the people.  As the night wore on, however, and the alcohol flowed freely, the magnitude of what they were about to do became apparent.  Soldiers began to enjoy their possible last night in their homes, and as music filled the room, dancers appeared on the floor.

            At the main dais, Legolas concentrated on not looking at Miranda.  He was afraid if he looked, he would not be able to look away.  His inability to maintain his composure around her was unnerving.  For over twenty  SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1yén, he had fought countless foes, braved terrifying monsters and dealt with hundreds of court dilemmas.  None had affected him as much as she. It simply made no sense.

When Aragorn had first uttered the words of another stone circle, his heart had contracted.  When she had looked up, hope and joy apparent on her face, his heart had slowed.  And when she had not come to him, but instead had spent the evening with the Hobbits, talking of her home, it shriveled.

 Of course, she would want to go home.  All logical thought had fled and he had avoided her, certain that if they were to talk, he would try to prevent her from leaving.  And he would not do that.  So he sat, miserable, and stared at the floor until a hand appeared on his knee.  He looked up into Eowyn's concerned face.

            "Are you well?" she asked sympathetically. He blinked in surprise.  He was not used to humans asking, or even caring about his feelings.  Then again, he was not entirely used to having such feelings. He smiled weakly at her and nodded. She squeezed his arm lightly and whispered, "Go talk to her."  Demoralized by a human meddling into his affairs, he simply nodded again.

            Legolas had not looked her way the entire night.  Miranda was feeling hurt and angered in turns.  She drank steadily.  The Hobbits had abandoned her to talk with the soldiers, Aragorn was busy conversing with Faramir and even Gimli had found a kind-faced woman to chat up. 

Mirnada glanced up, trying to seem nonchalant and froze.  Legolas was smiling up at a pretty blond woman.

**Eowyn,** Miranda thought, narrowing her eyes. **Hmph.  So that's why he scampered off.  I obviously wasn't beautiful enough.  Screw him.**  Logically, she knew there was nothing going on between them, but in her frustration, Eowyn was an easy target.  Deciding the night was a lost cause; she pushed the food on her plate around a bit more and then thought it best to leave. She sighed and stood abruptly, bumping into someone.

"Whoops, pardon-" She looked up into familiar eyes.  Her face started to light up, but then became guarded.

"What do you want?" she asked rudely.  Legolas frowned slightly, but opened his mouth to apologize for his recent behavior. 

Nothing.  The words would not come. He could not make himself apologize. He stared down at her, willing her to understand.  She glared back for a moment, but her attention was captured by the triangle formed by his clavicle at the base of his throat. Miranda stared mutely at the collar of his tunic, where it met the pale skin of his throat.

**Huh. No hair, ** she thought, idly. **Wonder if the rest of him is as smooth?** Shaking her head, she avoided his gaze. Thoughts jumbled around in her head, tangling themselves, confusing and confounding her. The silence became a living thing, heavy and awkward.  **I don't need this,** she decided blearily.

She tipped her glass back and snagged another as a servant went by. She stumbled slightly, but righted herself quickly.  Legolas's lips narrowed in disapproval.

"You are drunk, my lady," he said, attempting to take her goblet. Miranda snorted.

"Not nearly drunk enough, my LORD." She slapped his hand away. "And I'll thank you to stop trying to commandeer my glass." Gliding away, or so she thought, she tossed down the rest of the wine and looked around for someone to talk to. Christ, was there no one here she knew?  She bumped into someone again, and, pardoning herself, decided to make for her chambers.  At the doorway, she paused and looked back into the hall, looking for him.

**There.  What is her-** Her mouth tightened angrily as she saw him lean into the tall, redheaded woman standing next to him.  Miranda watched as the woman smiled up at him and nodded.  **Bloody hell!  Two in one night!**  She turned on her heel, stuck her nose in the air, and marched off to her room.

******************

 "Of course," said the redheaded woman.  "I'll make sure she reached her chamber unscathed." Smiling sweetly at him, she moved away.  Legolas had stopped the human servant and asked her to follow Miranda to her chambers.  He had seen exactly how unwelcome his own presence would be.

He crossed the room and slipped out the door into the cold, cloudy night.  He needed to be away from all these humans, all this dead stone.  He wanted to be around living, green things for a while.

************

The convoy moved quickly and fairly silently south from Minas Tirith.  They rode hard through the melting snow and reached the border of the South Lands in just over a fortnight. 

            Legolas rode at the front with Aragorn, frequently disappearing into the night to scout ahead.  He brought back news of large groups of Orcs, all heading south.  They seemed intent on their destination, however, and did not seek out the Elves and humans.

            Miranda rode near the back, unhappy and cold.  Sam had tried to chatter with her, but he was having trouble maintaining his own smile.  He missed Rose fiercely and thought of almost nothing else.

            Surprisingly, it was Gimli who proved to be the most agreeable companion.  He stayed at her side for most of the trip, staying silent when she seemed most gloomy and charming her into smiles with his gruff, but well-meaning humour.

            Nearly a month after they'd set out from Minas Tirith, they camped less than day's ride from the base of the mountain.  Thunder had rumbled ominously in the east all day and by midnight, a torrential downpour began.

            Having not seen rain in half a year, the humans laughed and pointed, reveling in the cool, wet air. 

            Had they seen the mountain more clearly, however, they would not have cheered.  In an aerie near the top of the gray mountain, a  tall figure dressed in long black robes raised her hands above her head and swayed as she chanted.  Above her, the clouds rolled frantically in the blackening sky and finally expelled their water.

            Satisfied with her work, the witch returned to her darkened chamber, a fissure deep within the mountain's heart.  She stared into the blue fire that burned in the center of the room for a long time.  Without turning, she murmured, "He's coming, he's almost here.  Almost mine."  In the dark, the tall figure crouched in the corner glared at the witch's back.  Her arms and legs were tied to stone rings, preventing movement, no matter how hard she struggled.  Eventually, she sat quietly, observing her surroundings and waiting for the moment when she was finally released from her bonds.

**********

            After nearly 3 days of raining, the skies cleared of clouds, but remained cold and gray.  The ground had turned into rivers of mud.  Great, black swirls of it wrapped themselves around young plant life and trees.  Miranda had never been more miserable.  Huddled inside her soaking wool cape, she berated herself for not having brought the elven cloak.

            **Stupid pride,** she thought, shivering as a droplet slid down her temple, onto her neck and down her shirt.  She sniffed loudly and wiped her nose awkwardly on her arm.

            As they neared the mountain, they had sent scouts out for signs of guards or armies, but found no one.  Apprehensive, Legolas and Aragorn led the convoy to the base, to a dark cavern that seemed to be an entrance.  It proved to me a long tunnel.  As they stood outside, discussing their next move, it began to rain again.

            **The hell with this!**  Miranda slid into the cavern behind Aragorn and sighed as the rain ceased to beat down on her.  At the lip of the cavern, Elves and humans began to get the same idea.

            A low rumble made Miranda sit up, looking around.  Gimli, who had taken up next to her, only snored more loudly.  Another low rumble came, not loud enough to be heard, only felt.  As she looked around in alarm, Miranda met Legolas's gaze.  He was looking at her so intently, she felt her heartbeat faster and started to return his smile in spite of her nervousness.  Suddenly the low rumble turned into an earsplitting scream as enormous piles of rock began to fall from the ceilings.

            Something hard hit Miranda, knocking her farther back into the cavern.  Something long and silky was in her mouth and she tried to spit it out, but only succeeded in gasping in more dust and rock debris.

            As quickly as it had begun, it was over.  Miranda blinked to clear her eyes and realized that the hard thing that had hit her was Legolas.  His head was mere inches from her own and it was his hair that had gotten in her mouth.  She tried to spit it out delicately, but Legolas paid no attention.

            "Are you hurt?" he whispered, gracefully patting the sides of her head.  She shook her head no and tried to control her breathing.  He slid his thumb over her cheekbone and cradled her cheek with his palm.  She couldn't take it.

            "Legolas, I'm sorry I-"

"Legolas, I believe we are trapped."  Miranda and Legolas swiveled their head around to see Gimli poking at the great pile of rock. Somewhere in the avalanche, he had lost his helmet, and his hair stuck up in great, bushy masses around his head. Blood dripped down the side of his nose from narrow cut on his forehead.

Miranda could feel millions of tiny stones- sharp, tiny stones, digging into her side where she'd landed. High above them, they could see tiny patches of light, but they were too high above and the walls too sheer to climb to.

Legolas stood up carefully and gently hauled Miranda to her feet. While Miranda groaned softly and rubbed her lacerated hip, Legolas cautiously prodded the fallen rock, but it went too far.  They were trapped.

            "Well," Gimli said grimly, "It looks as though we go that way."  He pointed towards the inside of the mountain.  Legolas nodded.

            "If we cannot yet get out, then we must make ourselves useful within. Come, we must find Arwen."