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

I spent a while longer composing myself. I had finally cried myself out. Slowly I rose and made my way back to camp, stopping long enough to take care of basic things. It was almost dusk now, and I had been away long enough. At least, long enough for me. I am sure Legolas wished I would stay away forever.

Even though I didn't feel like apologizing to the Elf right now, I knew I had better do so while my resolve was strong, or I would find a reason not to. Besides, if I waited too long, he was sure to upset me again, and then I wouldn't apologize to him at all, and I really felt I should. I had been unfair to him from the start, with my repeated belittling of him to his friends. The fact that they probably told him exactly what I had said, and that I had said it, had probably helped him form his disgusting opinion of me. Even an Elf could probably not endure such teasing for long—even though I hadn't done it to his face—without becoming resentful.

When I approached, Gimli was busy getting utensils for cooking and eating out of the gear. Legolas was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, I suppose I will have to wait to tell him I was wrong. Boy is that word going to stick in my throat.

I had not long to wait before he returned with a large grouse and two small quail dangling from his fists. How he shot an arrow into the quail without totally destroying such a small bird, I knew not. I also wondered why we needed so much meat, but then I smiled to myself. I had to remember that Legolas had to feed a full-grown Dwarf. I would wager that was the reason there was more than one bird.

Legolas crouched down at the edge of the camp, and began pulling feathers, preparing the fowl for the fire. I went over to him and commenced to de-plume one of the quail he had lain aside while he plucked the grouse. Legolas had shot the heads off the smaller fowl. That was how he'd managed to kill them without destroying them. He certainly was good with that bow of his.

He didn't look at me or speak to me. I was mildly surprised he didn't grab the bird back from me and move away. However, anger emanated from him like sparks off a flint. As soon as he'd plucked the grouse, he gutted it. By the time he was finished with that grisly chore, I had finished plucking one of the smaller birds, and he picked that one up to remove its innards as well.

When the birds had been prepared, he picked them all up—I had not realized how large his hands were before—and carried them to whatever water source he had found for us to camp near. As we traveled, we would usually stay near small creeks or branches that fed off the Mering Stream, which, I was told by the Elf of our party when he was in a conversational mood, meandered from the Entwash, wherever that was. I went to the cooking gear and found the grill, to put the birds on as he washed them. That way, he wouldn't have to put them on the ground after they'd been rinsed.

He wasn't far ahead of me, so I had no trouble finding the stream he had headed for. I am sure this stream probably had some sort of Elvish name, but I had no head for remembering names of obscure streams, so even if I had been told, I did not remember what this one's was. Legolas was already crouched at its edge, dipping the first bird into the water to wash. I knelt beside him and proffered the grill when he was finished with the bird's bath. He still had yet to look at me.

"Legolas," I said quietly, "I want to tell you that I am sorry for the way I have acted toward you. I have been childish; and, for reasons I cannot go into right now, I was taking my feelings out on you." He still did not look at me. He just continued the washing and rinsing of our supper.

We had never carried on any sort of conversation, which was my fault as well. I never gave him the chance to get that close to me. I didn't want to hear anything he might say and I didn't want to interact with him. The fact that I now knew the reason why was embarrassing—humiliating even—but it was true. I was attracted to him and it still scared me—even though he behaved like the backside of a mule most of the time.

I continued, although I really didn't know what else to say. "I will be cooperative with you and will not give you undue backtalk from now on." He still did not speak, or in any other way acknowledge my presence.

I was trying to keep my ire down, because he was not making this easy at all. He was, in fact, trying—and succeeding—to upset me again. I took a few deep breaths and placed the grill on the ground and rose. I had apologized. Whether he accepted it or not was up to him. I could do no more.

I was helping Gimli at the fire when Legolas returned with the birds for our meal. I hadn't much to do, other than perhaps get tea ready. I had cooked for my family when I was growing up, and then for my little family after I was married, but to say I possessed any great skill in the culinary arts would be a lie. And besides, it appears as if men folk need things to do when out in the wild. They cannot seem to sit idly and just enjoy being outside. No, they must be doing something—fiddling with this, or destroying that while trying to fix it. Any work—even so-called woman's work—was better than sitting still. I could not make myself feel the least bit guilty about being idle while the males of our group worked at this or that small job. Were I to attempt to do anything, I am sure it would not be correct in their eyes, and they would insist in taking the task from me, or doing it over when I had already done it. I would never understand the workings of the male mind as long as I lived.

Gimli and Legolas set about placing the birds on the grate over the fire. They had halved each one, to speed up the cooking, I suppose. It smelled divine, and for once, the aroma of food did not send me dashing for the bushes. I sincerely hoped that the sickness associated with my condition would be gone soon. It did seem to be abating somewhat. What used to be a twice-a-day occurrence was now down to once a day or every other day. That may not have seemed like relief to anyone else, but to me it was definitely a change for the better.

Our meal was soon cooked and we set about eating it. I sat across the fire from Gimli, trying to get out of range of the flying grouse meat he sent out whilst tearing into the bird with gusto. I noticed that Legolas stayed on the outer limits of Gimli's eating free-for-all, as well. And would you not know it? Gimli finished before either of us, again having only bones remaining of what had been a rather large grouse. Amazing were the eating habits of this Dwarf friend of mine.

As soon as all was eaten and cleared away, we sat with tea around the fire. It was mostly a peaceful silence, or small conversation between Legolas and Gimli. I was quiet, as I figured that would be my safest course. I wished not to speak lest I be ignored by a certain Elf, as that was beginning to make me angry. I was growing tired of his petulant silence, in regards to me. Yes, it was better that I simply stay out of the conversation altogether.

Legolas finally stood to get himself ready for first watch over our camp, and Gimli and I rose with him. The Elf armed himself—to the teeth, it seemed—buckling the strap that held his quiver and long knives to his back, after pulling his hair over his shoulder to keep it out of the way. He reached for his bow and slung that over his shoulder as well. It was funny how I had never noticed his hands before. I remembered noting the length and agility of Elven fingers when Elrond had been in my office apologizing to me, what seemed years ago. I decided that was the reason this Elf's hands were holding me in thrall now. It certainly wasn't for any other reason.

Before we each began preparing for the night, I made an offer of what I felt was a perfectly legitimate idea. I proposed that I take first watch, when it would surely be quieter and less threatening, thus letting Legolas rest. He never seemed to sleep, open-eyed or any other way. However, it seems I was the only person in the camp who thought it wasn't complete lunacy.

"Maeren," Gimli said doubtfully, "I think it is best left to the men of the camp to keep watches. No offense meant, but I am not sure of your use of any weapon."

"I am not particularly efficient in heavy weaponry," I admitted, "but I do possess a dagger and can use it if need be. And I do have a voice to shout alarm. That should count for something."

"Your offer is kind, lady," Gimli said, "but I would feel better knowing that you get the rest you need. You must remember your condition, you know."

"I remember it, Gimli," I responded, though not unkindly for he meant well. "It seems as though you both feel a lady is not capable in this area, so I bow to your wishes and withdraw my offer."

"A lady would not have made such an offer," Legolas said offhandedly, as he checked the edge on a dagger he then placed in his belt.

I had considered the Elf an intelligent being until he made that comment. I had certainly heard that particular slur one too many times, and was very tired of it. As he glanced up after sheathing his dagger, he found out just how tired of it I was in a most physical fashion. I slapped the sneer right off his face. From the look he gave me, I thought he might just hit me back. I cared not if he did! Then I would have an excuse for hitting him again. I suppose my good sense had fled. He no longer scared me. I had apologized to him for treating him badly, but I would not listen to his insults any more.

Gimli was quick to intervene, stepping between us. His ire had finally been sparked and he let us both know it.

"Stop this, the both of you!" he shouted. "I have had enough of the constant discord between you. If you cannot be civil, then have no dealings with one another at all! Now, I will keep watch. The two of you go where you will, as long as it is in opposite directions and away from me!"

I glared at Legolas and he glared back at me. We both turned at the same time and stomped away.

At least I stomped. I know not if an Elf is even capable of stomping. Nor do I care!

I was still too worked up to go to sleep, after that nasty scene I'd had with Legolas. I felt sure that steam must be coming out of my ears. My brain may have been oozing out of them, for all I knew. I felt rage to the point of not being able to think at all. I went down to the stream where I had helped His Majesty the Elf earlier this evening. I sat down hard on the bank of the little brook, so hard that it jarred my teeth, not to mention what it did to my rear.

I was so mad I didn't even think about weeping. I simply cursed that whelp of a Warg in my mind over and over again. This lady was going to slap anyone—and I mean anyone—who ever slurred me in that way again. I just was not going to take it any more. I had made a mistake. There is no denying that. But I wasn't alone when the mistake was made and I would not put the entire blame on myself for the result—nor would I allow anyone else to from now on. Curse that stupid Elf!

I sat at the water's edge for quite a while. It had grown really dark, when I had finally calmed down enough to notice. It wasn't too terribly long before my anger cooled. I was glad of that, because it was giving me the most horrible headache. My mind rifled through the contents of my bag containing herbal remedies. I should have something in there to not only ease the pain in my head, but to calm me down as well.

I was finding that the longer I sat, the less was my ire. However, the more my anger abated, the easier it was to allow melancholy to take its place. When melancholy took over, tears were usually the result and I was tired of crying. It would not surprise me if I had permanent trails down my cheeks by now, as much weeping as I had done during the past few months. And I sincerely did not want to give that stupid Elf the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten to me again. Although if slapping him hadn't made that obvious to him, he certainly was stupid for a fact.

I rose, took care of business for the last time for the night, and headed for my bedroll, grabbing my water skin and the bag with the herbs in it before I sat down. I forgot to grab a cup from the eating gear, so I had to rise, and retrieve one. As soon as I was sitting again, I poured a bit of powdered Valerian into the cup and added some water. I drank it down. Not only would it probably ease my headache, it would definitely help me sleep. I took the pins from my hair and shook my head when I was finished removing them all. I massaged my scalp with my fingertips, paying special attention to my temples, where the headache was the worst. Before I laid down, I decided to go to Gimli and apologize to him for being such a witch this evening. I was growing sick of apologizing constantly. I hoped he wasn't too angry with me, but there was only one way to find out.

Gimli was sitting on a fallen tree trunk, smoking his pipe. I wandered over to him and sat beside him on the log. He looked at me and shook his head, but he was smiling. And then he winked at me. Now what was that about?

"Gimli," I started, "I—"

"Hush, lass," he said, interrupting me, "no need for apologies. You have had a rough day, and that Elf has been the cause of most of your troubles. I am sorry for shouting at you earlier, but something had to be done to break the tension that had grown between you and Legolas. You two had come to blows, and I think the Elf would never hit a lady, but I have been wrong about him before. I have never seen him angrier than he was tonight, and that's a fact. I could take no chances with your safety."

"He does not think me a lady," I replied quietly, "so he very well may have hit me back. At the time I cared not, but now I feel shame for hitting anyone, even if they had it coming."

Gimli chuckled at that and said, "He did have it coming, lass." Then he sobered somewhat and said, "Take yourself over to your bedroll and go to sleep. You look about to fall on your face. Get some rest, and hopefully, things will look brighter in the morning."

"I suppose you are right, Gimli," I replied. I put a hand on his arm closest to me and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "Thank you again for helping me earlier this evening, when I was so sad. You are such a good friend. If I can ever be half as good a friend to you as you are to me, I will be very happy. Good night, Gimli."

I went back to my bedroll and laid down quickly. The Valerian had begun to take effect, and just as Gimli had said, I was practically asleep on my feet. I did fall to sleep instantly and my dreams were filled with angry words and fights to the death. Not very pleasant dreams, all in all.

I had not been asleep long, when something startled me awake. I grabbed for the unsheathed dagger I kept snuggled near me in my bedroll and sat up, throwing back my blanket, ready to strike at whatever was threatening me.

I blinked several times. I thought my eyes were deceiving me. Legolas sat not two feet away, a quizzical expression on his fair face. I could feel an angry frown coming on. I threw the blanket completely off and placed my hand with the dagger still clutched in it down beside me on the bedroll.

"What in Eru's name are you looking at, you despicable Elf?" I asked quietly, but with venom, my teeth clenched in anger.

He had the cheek to chuckle at me. I wanted to take Aragorn's dagger and cut the lips right off that smirking face before I killed him, but decided against it. For whatever reason beyond my grasp, Gimli had a fondness for this stupid Elf, and I would probably not live long were I to slay him.

Legolas ceased his laughing, his expression returning to one of puzzlement. "I merely wished to understand what type of Human would be able to lay a hand on me, without my being unconscious, or me giving them leave to do so. I sensed no strike coming, so when you slapped me, I was completely surprised, and that is something that never occurs. Thus, I was staring at you, trying to discern how you happened to surprise me with an attack."

I certainly did not find any humor in the situation, nor did I hold this Elf in any higher esteem than I had before. Besides, I was still not completely awake and when I went to sleep, I had done so with a belly full of hatefulness for this stupid Elf. I willed myself to calm down. He really hadn't done anything but stare at me.

"I didn't attack you, Legolas," I said firmly. "I have never attacked anyone in my entire life. Defend myself, yes. I have done that on many occasions." I was proud of myself for not screaming at his impertinence. "I will not accept any more insults from you concerning my situation. You assume you know the entire story of how I came to be in this condition, but I can assure you, that you do not."

"So," Legolas said, "Aragorn attacked you. Is that what you are saying?"

I caught myself just before I spent a lung full of air bellowing at him. Since Gimli had been so kind as to hold no hard feelings for this ongoing strife, I did not wish to subject him to more. Especially when he had already shouted at us to cease it once tonight. Instead, I spoke calmly to the Elf.

"I did not say that and it is none of your business anyway," I told him. "If you want to know the story, I suggest you ask Aragorn. You will not hear it from me. Now, please go away and leave me to sleep. All this fussing has given me a headache, and if you leave, most of my pain will go with you!"

"All right," Legolas said. "I will leave you to sleep. But do not think to strike me again or you will discover what it means to be attacked by an Elf."

Before I could formulate a proper reply, he was gone. He had practically vanished before my eyes. How did he do that?

Was the Valerian clouding my mind or did that stupid Elf just threaten me? It was difficult to tell with him. One minute he was laughing, the next he was making veiled threats. It mattered not. I had no intention of attacking him anytime soon. I would maybe puzzle it all out in the morning. Right now, I could not keep my eyes open. I lay back down and fell asleep before I was even completely prone.

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