Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belong to JRR Tolkien.

A/N: Just a quick note before you start reading this chapter. Believe me when I tell you, Legolas will not continue to be a stinker for the whole trip. He does get pretty spiteful, but eventually you will understand why he reacts as he does to Maeren, and why she reacts the way she does to him. I know some of you would not take it well if I made the Elf mean. And besides, that would be totally OOC.

We hadn't ridden far from Minas Tirith, when I knew I was in trouble. For a few hours now, my stomach was going through its usual ups and downs—and the up and down motion of being on horseback was not helping matters any. I was feeling very nauseous and tried desperately to will my belly to settle down. I sought distraction by trying to think of something else. That was not working, so finally, I had to pull Dori to a halt and jump from her back to be sick at the side of the road. Even though I had been nauseous for hours, the urge to retch came upon me quite suddenly, so I had no choice but to let it fly in front of Eru and everybody!

I wiped my mouth on a hanky I had tucked in my pocket. Miracle of miracles, I had finally remembered to bring one with me, although this was not the use for it that I had intended. I returned to my mare to retrieve my water skin and rinsed my mouth, then spit in a very unladylike fashion on the ground. Oh well, retching in front of everyone was worse than spitting, I suppose. I finally returned to my horse and settled myself in the saddle once more. Legolas and Gimli had apparently witnessed my folly and decided it was not a show they wished to attend. They had gone slowly ahead. I gently heeled Dori to a slow walk, until we drew even with my companions.

"Are you all right, Maeren?" Gimli asked when I caught up with them.

"Yes, Gimli," I replied. "I am sorry for subjecting you both to that little scene."

"I would appreciate you not doing it again," Legolas said, with a sickened look on his face. "It was a most disgusting sight and the aroma was— "

Gimli shushed him with a cuff in the ribs, and a sibilate Dwarvish curse before Legolas could complete his sentence.

I must have turned all shades of red. My dislike for the Elf was beginning to know no bounds. However, I was determined that I would not be made miserable by Legolas during this whole journey. For goodness sake, we'd only been gone for four hours.

In spite of my growing ire, I answered him lightly. "I am afraid I must blame the baby for this. I retch only because of my condition."

"How can you blame an innocent baby for your lustful nature?" he asked, his expression stony.

I saw Gimli grimace in frustration or anger, I could not tell which.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, and when that didn't help, I let loose with several Rohirric curses in my mind. I could not believe he had said that! I patted Dori and kicked her up to a canter, leaving the son of an Orc behind. I would not cry. He would not have the satisfaction of seeing how much he had hurt and embarrassed me.

As soon as there was enough distance between me and my nemesis, I slowed Dori to a walk. Taking several deep breaths, I tried to calm myself. It wasn't long before Gimli and his friend were back riding beside me. I stared straight ahead, looking at neither of them. Had I opened my mouth to speak, I would have cursed at the Elf, and I could not see how debasing myself more than he already had would help this situation.

We rode in this fashion until well into the afternoon. We did not stop for a noon repast. I cared not anyway. I was too angry to eat. Besides, it would just come back up, if I forced it down. I was drinking plenty of water, so it wasn't as if there was nothing at all in my stomach.

Even though I was in no danger from starving to death, I was in danger of tumbling from Dori's back. I was falling asleep in the saddle. I had hardly slept last night and had been going strong since well before dawn. I had slept some the day before, and last evening, but I had been exhausted then and my exhaustion was returning. I tried to keep my mind busy. I began thinking of various ways I would enjoy seeing Legolas tortured, with me being the torturer. There was nothing really serious among the torments I wished to visit upon him. Merely things like tying him to a chair before a mirror and then cutting his long hair. I would then force him to look at his short golden glory for hours on end. Or perhaps I may trip him after a rain shower, thus making him fall into the mud, face first. That would be a shock to his pretty self, would it not?

I laughed to myself, then quickly put my fingers to my lips. I had accidentally laughed out loud. The sights in my mind's eye were truly funny—at least to me.

"What is so funny, lady?" Legolas asked.

Turning to look at him, I laughed again, remembering his short hair and muddy face. "You truly do not want to know," I replied, still smiling. I actually thought momentarily about telling him anyway, but I shook my head, thinking better of it. "No, you certainly would not want to know."

"Well, I would like to know," said Gimli. "Being caught between the two of you, I find I could use a good laugh."

"Gimli," I said, "in light of your comment, it would be best if I left unsaid what I was thinking."

"If it will add to the friction between you and this Elf," he said, "then I will bow to your counsel in this." Gimli stole a look at the side of Legolas' head and then turned back to look at me. Sighing, he said, "I hope the two of you will call a truce, for it seems as if there is a battle brewing here, and I wish not to be caught in the middle of another war, if you don't mind. Although I enjoyed the sound of my axe ringing as it cleaved Orc necks, I have had enough of war at the present. I do not need the two of you forcing me into another so soon."

Legolas frowned, but did not comment. I almost laughed again. When the Elf scowled as he was doing, his face took on the appearance of an eagle. Valar! Was I ever in trouble! I now had the vision in my mind of an angry eagle with short blond hair and mud on its scowling face. I could not help myself—I burst out laughing. Again, I kicked Dori up to a fast canter. If Legolas scowled any more intensely, I was afraid I would have to add a beak to the list of his imagined features.

Well, I may have made Legolas angrier with me than he was before, but at least I was no longer in danger of falling asleep in my saddle.

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It was late afternoon, but still a few hours till sunset, when Legolas called a halt for the day. I have to be honest—my posterior was unused to the abuse this saddle had inflicted on it. I wasn't in dire straits, but I grimaced as I wondered how tomorrow's ride would be. I would not pad my saddle. There was not even a slim chance that I would give Legolas any ammunition with which to assail me.

We set about making our camp. Legolas began building a fire while Gimli removed the tack from the horses and the baggage from the pack horse. He then went looking for the stream that we could hear running nearby, to fill the water skins we had drained during the day. I had set about finding wood for the fire. In my weariness, I didn't see a fallen branch that was hidden beneath some tall grass and I tripped. In the process of catching myself with my hands, I jammed my finger into the ground. The pain was excruciating. I stood up and before dusting myself off, I surveyed the damage to my hand.

I was appalled. I had dislocated the little finger on my left hand. I hated to do it, but I was going to have to ask Legolas to help me put it back into place. I walked back to the clearing where we were making our camp, holding my left hand with my right. I went over to where Legolas was crouched and he didn't even look up at my approach.

"Legolas," I said in a pained voice, "I have dislocated one of my fingers. Would you help me snap it back into place?"

He stood and took my hand in his. He peered at it for a few moments—a few excruciating moments. A dislocated joint is very painful. After a short perusal, he looked at me and said, "It is not that bad. You can do it yourself. I have done this a thousand times. You should have no problem. After all, you are a healer."

I stared at him in disbelief, then said with sarcasm, "You're right. I can do this myself. I wonder why I did not think of that? Perhaps because my mind was clouded with pain. Yes, that is probably why."

I walked away. Valar I didn't want to do this, but it was either put my finger to rights myself or suffer until Gimli returned. I wanted to do neither, but decided it was not worth the pain to wait. Bracing myself, I did what I had to do, quickly pulling the end of my finger until, hopefully, the joint snapped back into place. However, it did not cooperate and remained misaligned. I thought I would be sick from the pain of it, but I tried once more—and failed once more. I was almost crying with the agony of it, but there was nothing to do for it but wait for Gimli to return. After I had made yet a third attempt myself, Gimli came back to the campsite with three full water skins in tow. He immediately saw my pain and hurried over to where I stood. It took him only seconds to assess the situation. He took my hand in his and performed the operation with one swift gentle jerk. I breathed a sigh of relief. The minute my finger was back to rights, it had begun to feel somewhat better. After a few more minutes, the torment had eased quite a bit. I knew it would start to feel much better now. It may swell and be a little sore, but it would not hamper me much if at all. And I thought I could not dislike Legolas any more than I did. I was wrong.

As soon as Gimli made sure I was feeling better, he walked determinedly to where Legolas was busy doing something that I could not see and did not care about anyway. Gimli did not try to speak softly and I could tell he was a little angry that Legolas had done nothing to ease my pain.

"Legolas," Gimli said, "why did you not help Maeren? It was plain to see she was hurt."

"Truthfully, Gimli," Legolas answered, "I did not think it that serious. I believed she could do it herself, since she is such a wonderful healer." He did not say it sarcastically, but I knew how he meant the remark.

"Are you saying," Gimli asked skeptically, "that there was no malice in your neglect of her?"

"There was no malice," Legolas said with ease. "She has made no secret of her dislike of me and I wished not to anger her yet again. Since the injury was minor, I took no chances of incurring her wrath."

Well, there I had it. He knew how I felt about him, whether from my actions or from others informing him, I knew not. Perhaps it was a combination of both. There were at least three people who, at different times, had the opportunity to tell him what I thought of him. Some of my words and deeds had clearly shown I did not hold him in much esteem, and I had not been subtle in showing my contempt of him. This was especially true, after some of the ill-mannered remarks he had made today. However, in my defense, he had been very cruel in some of his comments and this latest spitefulness certainly did not raise my opinion of him. I couldn't help but believe that his odious conduct was caused by something more than simple teasing others may have visited upon him because of something I might have said.

I began searching through my saddlebags and found a brush with which to groom the mare. I wondered if Eomer was responsible for including grooming tools for Dori, or if they came as a package with my bequest. Gimli eyed me skeptically when he saw what I intended to do, and said, "Maeren, are you sure you should be doing that? Your hand must hurt. Why not allow me to do this for you?"

"Thank you for offering, Gimli," I said, "but I would really like to do this myself if I can. It is very relaxing to me, and Eru knows, I need some relaxation. If I find I cannot do it without too much pain, I will gladly take you up on your offer."

I was pleased to have the opportunity to take care of the mare. She was sweet natured and very easy to make friends with. Dori's coat shone with health and vitality. I figured her to be about four years old. She was such a lustrous black—a true black, without any brown in her coat at all. So black, she almost looked blue in the sunshine. A truly beautiful animal. She was fairly tall—at least sixteen hands. It was almost more than I could do to place my foot in the stirrup to pull myself up into the saddle. I could see why Dorulas held her in such esteem.

Thinking of Dorulas made me think of Eomer again. I felt a sudden and painful stab of homesickness. Not for my home in Minas Tirith - that had never truly been my home. How I wished I could have accepted Eomer's offer this morning, of returning to Rohan with him. I wanted to see Edoras again. I wanted to see my father and my brothers. I had a deep longing to see the golden grass blowing in the ever present breeze that swept my homeland. Home. How I missed it.

I continued to brush Dori and to think about my home and family back in Rohan. I thought about how the war must have changed everything there. Eomer was now King. Theodon and his son, Theodred, were now gone. Eomer was King of Rohan, a title he richly deserved, if my opinion counted for anything. However, Eomer was now bereft of any close kin, save for his sister. Yes, he still had Eowyn, but she was betrothed to Faramir and would be living with him in Minas Tirith ere long. It seemed as if Eomer and I were destined to be alone. No, Eomer would find a sweet woman who would love him fiercely. Any woman in her right mind would love Eomer with passion. I had no knowledge of Eomer's desires, but just by gazing upon him, a woman could tell he was virile to the extreme. Yes, he would love a woman fiercely and expect her to respond in a like manner.

No, Eomer would not be alone, but it seemed as if I was destined to be. I'd had my chance at love and it was wonderful while it lasted. I knew that I would never feel for another, the love I had felt for my Dustin.

We married quite young, and as I grew older, I was happy for that fact. Had we waited until a later time, it would have looked as if I had pilfered a cradle. He hated the fact that he looked so young. If one did not know him, they may have thought him still a lad. I can still see the dimples in his cheeks as he smiled. His eyes were the bluest blue—like the sky of a summer's day. The way he drew his brows together in a frown at some displeasure he felt, reminded me of a wild hawk. His soft, sandy blond hair he kept swept from his face with low, thick braids that twined together on the back of his head.

He was one of a kind and I missed him every day. He did so many little things for me. He would sometimes bring me bouquets of flowers when they bloomed on the range in the Spring. On the rare occasions when I slept later than usual, he would have Tristin join him in making a breakfast for me. If I slept late enough, they would even bring it to me in bed. Occasionally, after spending long hours at work in the stables or fields with the horses, he would sometimes come home, and massage my aching shoulders, kissing my neck as he did so. That usually set my blood on fire, and—if Tristin was already abed, or otherwise occupied outside—Dustin would quench the flame he had so expertly set. In retrospect, perhaps he had his own best interests at heart, instead of mine. He could be very devious, so I did not put it past him to feign giving comfort to me, all the while seeking comfort for himself. How I missed him.

I thought about my father and brothers. I did not even know if they had survived the war. I wondered how I would find out now. Perhaps sometime soon, after I was settled, and Elrond was back in Imladris, I could ask if someone could be sent to inquire about my family. I was ashamed for not thinking of this before now. I should have tried to find out right after the war ended, but I had been too wrapped up in my own misery to think of anyone else. I hoped against hope that they were all well. I knew not what I would do if I lost any one of them. It did not bear thinking about.

I spent a good half hour tending to my new mare. She really hadn't needed that much brushing, but it felt good to have my hands on a horse once again. I could hardly believe she was mine. Living in Rohan, I was surrounded by good quality horses, but I had never actually owned one of my own—and Dori was a horse anyone would be proud to own.

I set Dorie out on a picket to graze and realized that the sun was very low on the horizon. My stomach was growling, I was so hungry, but my fatigue rivaled it for my attention. I made my way toward the fire and offered to help get our meal together. I was surprised to find a couple of rabbits already on spits over the fire, roasting. In fact, by the look and aroma of things, they were just about done. I asked whoever would listen if I could be of any assistance. Gimli invited me to sit down, and he handed me what I thought was a water skin. However, it turned out to contain a wonderful malt beer. I had not imbibed in any good brew since leaving Edoras and it was a welcome drink. I vaguely wondered how it would keep its foam, but watching Gimli drink it with relish, I had my answer—it would not be around long enough to go flat. I, myself, only had two swallows. I most likely had not the tolerance to it I once did and I hadn't eaten all day. It was bound to hit me hard, if I wasn't careful, and I was already inclined to lay down where I sat and fall instantly into a dead sleep.

I silently wondered how the rabbits came to be spitted and roasting, without me not even being aware that anyone was gone. I surmised it must have been the Elf of our party. As Arwen had warned me, he moved about without any sound, unless he wanted to be heard. How he accomplished bagging one rabbit, much less two, in less than half an hour, was beyond me. He must have a great deal of talent with that bow of his. He never seemed to be without it, except when we were riding. However, I noticed that both his knives, and Gimli's axe, were within easy access to each of them as we rode, in case we encountered any trouble while on our journey.

I sat in front of the fire on my bedroll, still rolled up to keep it somewhat clean. I was gazing at the fire, thinking about nothing in particular, trying to remain awake. Gimli sat next to me and Legolas squatted to retrieve the rabbits from the spits. He lay the charred bodies on a bed of leaves he had collected, and commenced to slice pieces of meat from the rabbits with practiced deftness. He speared a large piece on a sharp stick he had beside him atop the leaves and handed it to me. I thanked him. Nicely. He then handed the rest of the animal, still on the stick on which it had been roasted, to Gimli, who tore into it with gusto. I had never seen Gimli eat before and it was a sight indeed. I wanted to move away, lest he get some of his meal on me, the way it was flying into and around his mouth. He did not stop in his devouring of the meat until all he had left was bones and the stick it had been pierced with. He then let out a resounding belch and rubbed his stomach.

In contrast, Legolas ate quietly and neatly. No sound came from him, hardly even when he chewed. I cast a glance or two at him and saw that he would, from time to time, look up at Gimli and smile, shaking his head at the Dwarf's hearty appetite.

As soon as I was finished with my meal, I asked Legolas quietly if there was anything I could do to help with cleaning up, or to set the camp for the night. He looked at me with suspicion in his eyes, as if he wondered if I may be making fun of him in some way. He saw that I was not, but still shook his head. He did not speak, but I got the message that I was not needed now—if I would ever be.

That being the case, I made my way into the trees somewhat, for I had some urgent needs to attend to. As soon as I was relieved, so to speak, I strolled down to the stream. It wasn't far from our campsite, and I could hear my companions as they conversed amiably by the fireside. I had Aragorn's dagger tucked in my belt, which was covered by my tunic. It was a bit cumbersome, but I knew I could get used to it sooner or later. I remembered what Aragorn had said to me about all members of a traveling party needing to be on their guard. I felt as if I was being careful, so I sat down gingerly by the bank of the stream. Without doubt, I would be sore from all the riding I had done today. I may have to rethink my position on riding without padding. No bit of pride was worth having my rear be tortured, just to spite an Elf.

The moon was pretty tonight, almost full. In just a few days, it would rise in all its glory, appearing much larger than normal and a rich orange. I was looking forward to it and I hoped the weather would not be cloudy. The stars were also shining brightly tonight. Their reflections upon the surface of the stream brought to mind millions of tiny diamonds flowing along the top of the water, glittering as they floated past me. It was so peaceful, being out here in the wild. I did not feel fear. I hoped I was not being complacent, as Aragorn had advised me against. I was so close to the campsite, I knew I was not being foolish—being out here alone. And it was so calming. I needed that, after all of my little skirmishes with Legolas today. I wish I could get along with him, but the sight of him just irks me. I resolved to cease thinking about him or the calmness of the night would be all for naught.

It was growing somewhat cool, so I rose and retreated back toward the campsite. I was sorry to be leaving the peaceful stream, but I was very tired of a sudden and needed to get myself to sleep. Tomorrow would come all too soon. Along with the rising of the sun, would be my rising into the saddle again. I was not looking forward to that right now. I was becoming noticeably stiff.

I suddenly perceived a figure walking directly in front of me, several feet ahead. It was Legolas. What in Eru's name had he been doing—spying on me? I began stomping faster, trying to catch up with him, but he was too quick. When I broke through the trees into the clearing, he was sitting by the fire, not the least bit out of breath.

"Legolas," I said with annoyance, "were you following me? And if you were, why were you doing so?" My indignation was clear in the tone of my voice.

"Yes," he replied without so much as a bit of shame. "I was following you. It was not by my choice, but Gimli, as you can see, is already abed for the night and it was up to me to keep an eye on you."

"And why, exactly, was it up to anyone to be keeping their eye on me?" I asked, my indignation quickly turning into anger.

"By orders of Aragorn, do we keep you in our sight at all times," he said. "He wants nothing to happen to his child."

"So, the King ordered this, did he?" I asked. I was angry now. No, it was more like livid. "Well, I give you my orders to stop doing it, do you hear me?" I was yelling now and Gimli sat up suddenly. I paced around the fire for a few steps, then stopped. "I need not his concern. While I am no warrior, I do not need or want anyone dogging my footsteps day and night. His interference in my life makes me sick!" I was in a full blown rant now and I was not finished venting my frustration. I looked at Gimli, who was rubbing one eye and shaking the sleep out of his head. "Gimli," I said, "is what Legolas saying true? Did Aragorn order I not be left alone?"

Gimli closed his eyes and grimaced. "Yes, Maeren, Aragorn ordered it. You are not to be left alone—ever—during this journey."

My jaw dropped at the unfairness of it all. Tears of rage were building behind my eyes. How could Aragorn do such a thing? I was not a child, unable to even see to my toilet alone. How I wished not to weep. Too late—my tears were already falling.

I sat down hard on my bedroll, which was still rolled up by the fire where I had left it earlier. I drew my knees up and placed my elbows on them, covering my face with my hands. I tried to be quiet as I wept, but I could not help the sound of muffled sobbing escaping the barrier of my hands. Somewhere in my mind was the thought that I must seem childish, indeed. Throwing a temper tantrum was not usually my style, but a woman could only take so much stress without breaking under it as some point. It seems as if I had reached that point.

Gimli approached the fire. I could tell it was him. His footsteps were much louder than Legolas'. Besides, I figured Gimli would seek to comfort me, while I knew such an idea would never occur to the Elf. But I was having none of it. Gimli had been a friend to me, through thick and thin, but I could not let go of my anger at Aragorn just yet. When Gimli touched me on the shoulder, I flinched away from him and asked him to just leave me be.

I crossed my arms and placed them on my knees, resting my forehead on them. I know not how long I sat there crying, but it was quite a long time, I suppose. I cried for the indignity of having my privacy breached. I cried because of all the spiteful words and actions of Legolas. I cried that I was even on this journey at all. I cursed myself for allowing Eomer to leave this morning without me by his side, and I wept with the knowledge that I was responsible for this whole thing. There was nothing—absolutely nothing—I could do about any of the restrictions placed upon me. I was going to a place completely alien to me, with at least one person who held me in contempt. I was without my father, who I needed very badly. I needed to know I was loved. Even if he knew of my shameful conduct, he would love me still. I wanted to scream with anger and rage—even after all this time—at the injustice of having my husband and son ripped from my grasp, leaving me alone and despondent.

I finally lay down in the dirt where I sat. I was too weary to stay upright. I cried myself to sleep and had the same dream that I'd had before. I was in my garden, beneath the wishing tree, my arms tied fast against my body. There were snakes hissing and striking at my ankles. This time, however, there were people sitting around me, watching me as I wept. In my dream, I let my head fall to my chest in shame, for the whispers of those sitting there staring at me told of my disgrace.

I awoke with a start. It had been but a dream.

However, the dream was quickly becoming my reality.

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