A/N: It's an American expression, so I may be using it in completely the
wrong sense here, but I just want to say kudos to six of my reviewers.
Don't get me wrong, the rest of you rock as well, but these six have stuck
by me from almost the very beginning, and I salute them! They are - Xena,
"...", Beth, Tinania Lindleriel, Artemisa and... who could forget... the
lovely Sirith.
This is my new incentive scheme to get the rest of you all reviewing regularly, just so I know you're still with me... you never know, maybe you'll get a shout out if you review!
Also, it is a complete accident that I have focused on Legolas a tad more than the others... I didn't intend to, but I've just realised that I really, *really* do... it's his natural magnetism, you see.... so apologies from my end, but just wait till you see the next chapter... Gimli plays a large part, and it's a double-parter. You have been warned.
I shall leave you now and let you read in peace. Alicia
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Legolas: A Regular Water-Babe ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"By mushrooms, Merry, you don't half tonk a bit!" Pippin pinched his nostrils in an exaggerated way as he stared in mock-shock at his elder cousin, who seemed slightly peeved about something or other.
Merry halted and turned, incredulous, "Are you implying I am anything less than my usual fragrant self, Peregrin?" he challenged, just a hint of danger lacing his tone. Frodo, walking with them at the time, snorted heavily, amused immensly by the antics of his cousins, and yet when Merry whirled to fix him with an evil-eye, he managed to look completely (and almost convincingly) innocent, studying the patterns of the brush around them intently. Merry, not being able to accuse him of anything, again turned to Pippin, "I don't smell that bad, do I?" he asked, rather embarrassed and anxious now.
"In all fairness, hobbit," put in Boromir gently, walking to their left, wishing to ease his friend's discomfort, "I think we've all seen better days when it comes to personal hygiene... you are not alone, small one."
It had, indeed, been some time since the fellowship had used their last wash-stop; a mixture of bad locations for halts and paths - they had come across no rivers, pools, ponds, streams... anything, for a few days - and an almost constant overhead inspections from the spies of Saruman (Sam had stated plainly that Crebain were his least favourite animals, for he was sick of dusting himself off and picking himself up from the floor with each unexpected attack) had made it impossible for them to either take a long break, or utilise their short one into cleaning up.
"Then again," Boromir continued, "I doubt the ruffian has... for he seems to revell in guising himself with dust and dirt, don't you, Aragorn?" He shouted the jest to the head of the company, where Gandalf and Aragorn were leading. Aragorn, catching this taunt, held up a hand and gestured in a manner much against the usual protocol of an heir of Gondor - not that the ranger followed much of that protocol, anyway - without even turning around and barely batting an eyelid. Boromir heard a familiar chuckle from far behind him, and he knew that Legolas' sharp Elven ears and eyes had caught the exchange from where he was bringing up the distinct rear of the fellowship. He decided that the prince would be his next victim, "Greenleaf, however, must be disgusted with us... so unused to such squalor is he. How does it feel to be unable to wash your feminine locks less than four or five times a day, elf? And how *do* you survive without being able to bathe in milk and perfume your clothes with roses and the such?" He raised his eyebrows, listening and anticipating a worthy explosion from his good friend. He glanced down, the three hobbits walking with him were also grinning widely, awaiting a reaction with mischief dancing in their eyes, Gimli's broad shoulders were shaking violently as he walked in front of them, but he stayed silent.
Legolas however, liking to think he was generally at least one step ahead of the mortals - and especially the dwarf, shrugged unexpectedly. "I dislike it intensely," he stated coolly, green eyes scanning the area around them - he would not let his duties of rearguard become neglected merely for the sake of his natural-born hobby of mortal-baiting - "all this rolling in your own muck and the such, and we all stink to the high heavens, of course. And how does that saying go?" He paused with a pensive look on his face, as if trawling through the reams of knowledge in his mind, "'When in Gondor, do as the Gondorimm do'?" he asked, as if he didn't know.
Gandalf, listening from the front, rolled his eyes in almost-exasperation and looked to Aragorn, "Have you heard him?"
Aragorn winked and smiled, shaking his head, "His on his way for a fair clout, I reckon, and make no mistake," he muttered.
Boromir's brown eyes flashed golden, and they narrowed dramatically as he considered this half-hearted insult carefully. He shook his head, turned completely, and started walking slowly towards the elf, who had stopped and was simply standing there, serene and calm, one golden brow raised. "You should be careful, elf," he warned, good-naturedly, but with a hint of mock- threat seeping through into the tone, which Legolas immediately picked up on. "What you say about other's, that is..."
"Forgive me, brave Gondorimm," Legolas bowed deeply as Boromir halted before him, within grabbing distance. He looked up through his dark eyelashes, still in the midst of the bow, green eyes glinting wickedly, "I believe the saying really was 'When in the company of mortals, do as the mortals do - to a certain extent, at least'." He immediately darted away with immense, practised skill as Boromir lunged for him.
"Right you are, elf!" Boromir shouted, and began the hunt, for Legolas could not dance away from him forever.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Mithrandir, Estel? Could you, mayhap, just find us a puddle or something? Anything would be most appreciated, I'd say," inquired Legolas, now sporting a slight bruise across one high cheekbone - as it turned out, he *couldn't* dance away from Boromir forever. "I would not ask it, but Pippin is becoming increasingly tiresome, harping on and on about Meriadoc's supposed 'stench'."
Aragorn grinned slightly, "He must be bad, to have *you* saying something, Greenleaf," he said. Legolas was usually the very last to snap and lose his famed patience when it came to the troublesome antics of Peregrin Took - it seemed to be a virtue of his.
Legolas gazed at him, eyes calm and cool, "If *you* wish to act as the rearguard, mellon nin, then be my guest," he indicated the back of the fellowship with his hands and crouched down slightly as if in awe of his friend of decades, as if a humble servant. Aragorn chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. Legolas smiled and straightened, then continued seriously, "Nay, he is not bad... I am merely using him as my scapegoat - for though I fear that I have left more perspiration dry on my body in the last few days than is good for me, I do not wish to give Boromir an opening for jest... Don't even." He raised a slender hand and cut off his best friend as Aragorn opened his mouth to say something about Legolas' concern for Boromir's jesting - and not only Boromir's, as Aragorn suspected a certain dwarf had something to do with the elf's stoic behaviour. "I am not in anything resembling the mood it takes to deal with you adequately today, Estel."
Gandalf chuckled deeply, as always finding the conversations of the two humorous, brotherly as they were in their actions, "I think you'll find, Dian Las [Little Leaf], that young Peregrin Took is the scapegoat in plenty situations. Merely ask Merry and Frodo - it is not something to be ashamed of."
Legolas nodded his head with a small quirk of his lips, but then turned to them again after a momentary pause, "I feel nothing of darkness, Mithrandir: I believe we may, for once, have no Crebain upon our tail..." He trailed off as Gandalf nodded, confused that the Wizard already seemed to know that.
"I am aware of this," Gandalf stated with another nod. "And we have devised a special treat for our fellowship, because of that - Aragorn told me of this place a few days ago, and he has been leading us there ever since."
The elf looked to his best friend expectantly, and Aragorn smiled knowingly, "Aye, I have... it should be merely a half-a-league away."
And so the fellowship traveled on during the day - which was an unusual, though not unwelcome, change - only halting when they came to an almost wall of stone and foliage, standing out against the parched, flat brush of the landscape, a small woodland at it's back. "Why are we stopping here, Mr. Strider?" asked Sam as he turned, as they all did, to look at the rugged ranger with interest.
All except Legolas, he was concentrating on something, his sparkling green eyes distant, "It's muted by the stone," he blurted suddenly, "but running water is near." He grinned excitedly - which many an elf didn't do, but Legolas was a most perculiar and eccentric elf, the long years he had spent with Aragorn as his best friend giving him some quite un-elfly habits: grinning widely was one of many -"We're going to be able to wash!"
The hobbits' eyes widened and they looked positively delighted as they stared at Aragorn. The northerner simply nodded and winked at them, then turned and led the company through a small tunnel, almost hidden from outside eyes. Legolas hitched a breath slightly before venturing into the dark, enclosed passage - his father's palace might've been for the most part underground, but the caves of the Elves were wide and full of light and ventilation, with many windows cut into the solid rock. And Legolas himself lived now in quarters high above the ground and near to the sky, in the crown and branches of one of the grandest Beech trees of Mirkwood, and was happier there as he, more than any others, had always felt uneasy underground and in enclosed spaces, even his father's magnificent caves.
But presently the company came out into the open air again, in the green and surprisingly lush woods that backed the stone wall and tunnel, and Legolas breathed deeply again. Aragorn led them confidently down through a series of pathways and rock-wall passages, knowing implicitly where he was going, though the last time he had visited this place was many a year previous. The Lord of Impeccable Timing he may be, but he was a damned good ranger - the best in history's far-stretching knowledge, in fact, whether that be from the blood that ran through his veins or the Elvish way he had been brought up, none could tell. But he was fair nearly infallible when it came to the skills of a ranger.
Finally they came to an almost-clearing. It was completely closed in over them, but in a good way, with the trees surrounding stretching their limbs out and towards a common centre, weaving their branches together beautifully and without fault, and providing much needed cover for the fellowship. Gimli glanced at Legolas, who was gazing up at the trees with a small, almost sad smile upon his face, eyes shining, and then to Aragorn, "Why do the trees do that, Aragorn?" he asked, fairly interested, but not wishing to show he was in front of the elf.
Aragorn looked down at him in surprise, not thinking that the son of Gloin would be all that interested in such things, but he answered anyway, "A very, very long time ago a company of Elves once traveled here from their homes in the mountains in great danger, wishing to reach Mirkwood and then Rivendell safely, for an important message was to be delivered. They were being hunted by most foul things, and were reaching exhaustion, needing to stop desperately, and they came upon this clearing and the trees, sensing their kindred's danger, shielded them from evil. Even mountain-Elves have a bond with trees, you know."
Gimli nodded, and then straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat, "Yes, well..." he grunted.
Aragorn smiled and shook his head, his grin widening as the hobbits cried in sudden joy, "A lake! There's a lake here!"
"Damned right there's a lake here," he called out with amusement, "You expect anything other from me?" The lake was a serene, beautiful spot, deep and tranquil, the peace of the waters accentuated by the swirling underneath of dazzling greens and endless blues. It was exactly what the fellowship needed, in body, mind and spirit.
Frodo, Merry, Pippin and Boromir ran, as one, down to the water's edge, and began undressing the top halves of their bodies. They intended not only to bathe, but to take full advantage of the pleasant circumstances and have a little fun. Up until then, the last bath they had had was courtesy of Rivendell, the washes since only being quick little numbers, cold and rushed, beneath the arms and around the back of the neck; now they were going to submerge themselves totally. Gandalf and Sam sat a little bit furthur away from the lake, settling themselves against a hillock of grass, thankful for the breif respite. Aragorn and Gimli made their way down to the water at a casual pace, and Legolas followed a little way behind, eyes still taking in the wonder of the clearing and ears picking up the greetings of the trees of the wood, who hadn't had the pleasure of welcoming one of their children back into their arms for a long time. But then, his eyes fell upon the water, and he grinned.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "That's unfair, now! I refuse to be the 'tigger'!"
The large majority of the company was in the water, enjoying themselves enormously, splashing one another and diving from the edges of the small stone cliffs surrounding the lake. Sam had declined many an invitation - being wary as he was of anything other than solid ground beneath his feet - he sat instead with Gandalf, talking of many things with the wizard who, it turned out, wasn't half as scary as Samwise had previously thought.
"Now, I am an old man, but why won't *you* swim, young Gamgee?" asked Gandalf, absently searching in his pack for his pipe and weed.
The gardener shrugged shyly, his apple-cheeks flushing a rosy red, "I don't have water-legs, Mr. Gandalf, sir," he explained. "And I can't swim," he blushed even furthur.
"Well, that's not unnatural, many hobbits cannot," Gandalf assured calmly. And it was true - the small section of those who actually could swim were mainly Tooks and Brandybucks, who were thought of as queer among the Hobbiton community anyroad - as everyone knew, they were descendants from the Stoors and Fallohides, who had taken up many an unnatural habit in their time. Hobbits distrusted water immensely, what with them being creatures of comfort who very much stuck to their ways, and water being so unpredictable, the two just did not match.
"You're the one I've got my eye on to tig, elf!"
The two were silent for a short time, watching the swimmers, then... "I don't understand how Mr. Frodo is so confident and can go playing in the water, after all - you know of his parents," Sam blurted out unexpectedly. He looked slightly shocked that he had said such a thing, and rushed to correct himself, "-I-I mean... if it were me, if I were him.... W-what I mean to say is..."
Gandalf smiled fondly at the flustered young hobbit who was too wrapped up in politeness and a sense of geneality to truly speak his feelings very often, the wizard's night-blue eyes twinkled with the light of the stars as he laid a hand upon Sam's small shoulder, "Do not fret, Samwise Gamgee, I know exactly what you are thinking - and you should not bite your tongue. But you must understand that Frodo needs this relief and refreshment, and you shouldn't begrudge him of it."
Sam was aghast, "I-I wasn't, I'm not- !" he stuttered, but then stopped himself and looked down. "Mr. Gandalf, I don't begrudge him anything, I never would..." he began to try and dig his way out of this right royal hole he found himself in. But the wizard merely smiled at his attempts, and the large, gnarled hand upon his shoulder squeezed gently for some time as Gandalf's eyes returned to his comrades. Sam's brown eyes quickly followed, and he watched his friends, new and old.
"Aha! You lose, I win - t'was ever thus!"
Many a thing was happening in the lake: nearer to the shallows, Merry and Pip were splashing each other furiously in a battle of frightening vigour, their large, flat feet making excellent waves and huge splashes, and both were spluttering mouthfuls of water out at every turn - and yet neither seemed to be achieving anything.
"M-whurph... Merry! I'm going to-whumpgrh...!"
There was also a pretty standard game of underwater tig going on - which the two cousins would soon be sucked into - between the dwarf, the hobbit, the elf and the two men. Shouts of triumph and yelps of hysterical laughter reverberrated from the stone all around them. The water, though cooled by the lack of sun through the branched coverlet above them, seemed to be heated by some other force... no one could tell what, either way it was exactly the right temperature, and no one felt much like leaving the place of sanctuary. They may have been beings specially handpicked by Lord Elrond of Imladris himself, specifically for the task they had been appointed, and the astoundingly-high levels of skill and ability they could contribute to the Ringbearer, and the way they handled themselves in imminent danger. They realised they were facing peril of the utmost importance to the history of the whole of Middle-earth, they all knew they might never return home to their families, friends and loved ones at the end of it all, but for once, they just wished to enjoy themselves, to be themselves - and not think about the dangers that lay ahead.
"Right then, so be it!"
Boromir was currently the 'tigger', and he was doing everything in his power to catch up with Legolas as he steamed through the lake, but the speed of the elf underwater seemed to be even greater than the fairly considerable pace of his above - there was no catching him as he glided under the surface, more like a ghost or spirit than anything of real solidarity. Boromir, realising the futility of such a chase, soon switched tactics and launched himself at the nearby-Frodo, who deftly swam away, resulting in a huge wave rippling the area of the lake they were in, but no other 'tigger' to be crowned. Aragorn and Gimli were laughing heartily, safely away at the other side of Merry and Pippin's battle. "Steward of the Gondorimm, unable to catch up with a young hobbit less than half his size!"
"I suggest you close your mouth at once, my Lord, or I shall have to come over there and shut it for you!"
"Come on then, if you think you're fast enough!"
Legolas hauled himself up out the water, laughing loudly at the antics of his friends and Gimli. The spotlights of sun which were able to penetrate the roof of wood built over them glinting off his wet golden hair, that now, when wet, fell down way past his bare chest, and his eyes were dancing delightedly with mirth as a rather silly grin plastered itself across his fair face as he clambered up onto the highest of the small rock cliffs.
"Young Greenleaf seems to be enjoying himself," Gandalf remarked humourously with one bushy eyebrow raised, half-consumed in the task of filling his pipe.
"Aye, Mr. Legolas is a regular water-babe, and make no mistake," Sam laughed, watching as the elf dove off the cliff of stone into the water, but making no splash nor sound as he disappeared beneath the surface. Elves loved water, believing it to be the most beautiful, powerful, grand, treacherous, enchanting thing upon the earth - that was part of the reason why the call of the sea claimed each and every elf at some point in their long lives, may it be for better or worse. Legolas was no exception.
"And he's back in the game!"
By now, Merry and Peregrin had, indeed, been sucked into the game of tig. It was increasing in intensity and joy, what with half of the contestants laughing too much to put up a proper fight and swim as fast as they normally could, making it easier to tig, less of a challenge, and thereby deminishing the whole point of the game. Ergo, the dunking began.
"Aragorrraagggh!"
It was Aragorn's fault; he started by dunking Legolas, who then dunked Merry - the closest to him - who then dunked Peregrin - naturally - who then attempted to dunk Boromir, but failed, so both his cousins had to help him out by jumping, as one, onto Boromir's broad back, succesfully making the Gondorimm's head go beneath the surface, despite the warrior's protests. By this point, everyone was dunking everyone else, Gandalf and Sam were laughing from the shoreline, spirits were high and the water a boiling pot of activity.
"I can't believe you just did that!"
But, as with all good things, it had to come to an end. So when the sky was beginning to darken and night was drawing in, Gandalf called a halt to the beings in the water, "We shall camp here tonight, and set off again on the morrow, for this is as safe a place as any." He did a quick head count, but only counted six, slightly blue, faces in the lake. His eyes narrowed, and after a moment, he spotted the problem. "Legolas, where is Gimli?"
The rest of the company turned to Legolas, who's demeanour and expression was entirely innocent, green eyes widened. "I don't know what you mean, Mithrandir," he stated calmly, unaware that a trail of bubbles was drifting up from his left side and popping upon the surface of the now-still water was betraying him.
Aragorn raised a dark brow, looking very much different now that all the mud and signs of travel had been washed from his weary features, and his hair lay clean and straight against his scalp, "If you do not know where he is, who is that dwarf you are presently holding underwater?" He knew his best friend would neve intentionally hurt the son of Gloin without having an adequate reason, but then again, Gimli's blunt and yet sharp-tongued comment about Legolas' beloved, late mother may have given the elf a just cause.
Legols looked mildly surprised, "What dwarf?" Then, as if suddenly remembering something, his green eyes widened theatrically, "*Oh*, you mean *this* dwarf?" And with a startling strength that one would not expect from such a thin creature, he hauled up a spluttering, drenched, red-haired being from under the surface of the water with ease. The company was mildly speechless for quite some time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The fellowship was mainly asleep, the hobbit's having foregone their usual sleeping arrangement for some reason - no longer where they all in a pile. Gandalf snored deeply into his hat which was placed at an angle over his face. A slightly blue-in-the-lips Pippin was curled up against Aragorn's side, head on the ranger's shoulder, as the man slept with his head resting back on his pack, throat open; Frodo's ebony-curled head lay upon Aragorn's flat stomach, using the man as a pillow. Boromir lay on hs front, golden- brown head kept up off the floor by the crossed arms it rested upon. Merry's feet had been cold, so he had wrapped himself up in one of the extra blankets, as well as his own, and had fallen asleep before his head really hit his pack. Gimli, mildly dryer than he had been earlier, slept as far away from Greenleaf as possible, so as not to explode with fury at every sight of him, and Sam stood, a blanket around his shoulders, watching Legolas watch the water.
The time for watch-change had come, and yet had passed the elf by without notice. He had eyes only for the surface of the water, and his mind strayed back to his home as he unplaited his golden warrior braids; his eldest sister, Niandias, was to be wed to a very fine young gentleman called Githrell whom Legolas liked very much - the imminent wedding part of the reason why King Thranduil would not give his blessing to let his youngest son leave their lands, let alone to join the fellowship (no doubt Thranduil's good friend, Elrond, would be getting an earful from the irate King about Legolas' decision to leave ~Poor Lord Elrond~). Legolas had left, knowing that he would miss his sister's wedding, but believing it to be for the greater good. But now.... as he imagined he saw her beautiful face in the water, with the faces of his family crowded around....
Legolas sighed heavily, his large eyes straying, once again, out towards the middle of the lake, where the fragmented Moon and scattered stars were reflected in it's depths. Sam thought it was time to make himself known - the fact that Legolas hadn't already sensed he was there testiment to solemness of his thoughts.
"Hullo, there, Mr. Legolas, sir," he said cheerfully, as he went and sat down next to the Elven prince.
"Mae govannen, Master Gamgee," Legolas said with a smile, thankful, as always, that a hobbit was nearby. It was most perculiar - he found himself fiercely fond of all the halflings and delighted in their company; he had never met creatures as strange, as big-hearted, as wonderous, as infuriating, as simple, as joyous and as beautiful as the four he currently found himself company with. And Samwise Gamgee was the exact remedy he needed for such gloomy thoughts of his. "What are you doing up and about, asleep you should be, Sam," Legolas said this as a father might say to a wayward child on discovering the small one sitting upon the stairwell, late at night.
"Aye, well, that's not strictly true, Mr. Legolas," Sam said with a half- smile, less shy than he would usually have been - the ease and mirth he found in Legolas' company having helped his fear of superior beings, especially Elves, greatly.
Legolas raised one golden brow, "Oh?"
"Well, by rights, sir, you're meant to be alseep by now; it's my watch, if you follow me."
"Of course, yes!" Legolas blushed, his tapered ears flushing subtly to a light pink, "Forgive me, Master Samwise, my thoughts ran away with me all of a sudden," he paused. "I was watching the water," he confided, for that explained everything to him.
And Sam, of course, immediately understood; he had observed the elf's fascination with water before, and found it amusing. He nodded and smiled warmly, revelling in the fact that *he* could single-handedly make the elf laugh melodiously, almost at will. True enough, the elf's grin widened simply by looking into the young gardener's earnest, freckled-brown, round face. How he did love the hobbits, and Sam, in particular, held a special cornerstone of his heart, it seemed. He squeezed Sam's shoulders, and used him as a support as he stood, winked, and walked away to his welcoming bedroll.
And Samwise was left to contemplate just how good it made him feel to have his shoulder squeezed in friendship by two such superior beings he had, at first, been very much frightened of.
"A regular water-babe, indeed," he murmured with a smile as he settled himself to watch the ever-shifting surfaces of the water. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This is my new incentive scheme to get the rest of you all reviewing regularly, just so I know you're still with me... you never know, maybe you'll get a shout out if you review!
Also, it is a complete accident that I have focused on Legolas a tad more than the others... I didn't intend to, but I've just realised that I really, *really* do... it's his natural magnetism, you see.... so apologies from my end, but just wait till you see the next chapter... Gimli plays a large part, and it's a double-parter. You have been warned.
I shall leave you now and let you read in peace. Alicia
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Legolas: A Regular Water-Babe ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"By mushrooms, Merry, you don't half tonk a bit!" Pippin pinched his nostrils in an exaggerated way as he stared in mock-shock at his elder cousin, who seemed slightly peeved about something or other.
Merry halted and turned, incredulous, "Are you implying I am anything less than my usual fragrant self, Peregrin?" he challenged, just a hint of danger lacing his tone. Frodo, walking with them at the time, snorted heavily, amused immensly by the antics of his cousins, and yet when Merry whirled to fix him with an evil-eye, he managed to look completely (and almost convincingly) innocent, studying the patterns of the brush around them intently. Merry, not being able to accuse him of anything, again turned to Pippin, "I don't smell that bad, do I?" he asked, rather embarrassed and anxious now.
"In all fairness, hobbit," put in Boromir gently, walking to their left, wishing to ease his friend's discomfort, "I think we've all seen better days when it comes to personal hygiene... you are not alone, small one."
It had, indeed, been some time since the fellowship had used their last wash-stop; a mixture of bad locations for halts and paths - they had come across no rivers, pools, ponds, streams... anything, for a few days - and an almost constant overhead inspections from the spies of Saruman (Sam had stated plainly that Crebain were his least favourite animals, for he was sick of dusting himself off and picking himself up from the floor with each unexpected attack) had made it impossible for them to either take a long break, or utilise their short one into cleaning up.
"Then again," Boromir continued, "I doubt the ruffian has... for he seems to revell in guising himself with dust and dirt, don't you, Aragorn?" He shouted the jest to the head of the company, where Gandalf and Aragorn were leading. Aragorn, catching this taunt, held up a hand and gestured in a manner much against the usual protocol of an heir of Gondor - not that the ranger followed much of that protocol, anyway - without even turning around and barely batting an eyelid. Boromir heard a familiar chuckle from far behind him, and he knew that Legolas' sharp Elven ears and eyes had caught the exchange from where he was bringing up the distinct rear of the fellowship. He decided that the prince would be his next victim, "Greenleaf, however, must be disgusted with us... so unused to such squalor is he. How does it feel to be unable to wash your feminine locks less than four or five times a day, elf? And how *do* you survive without being able to bathe in milk and perfume your clothes with roses and the such?" He raised his eyebrows, listening and anticipating a worthy explosion from his good friend. He glanced down, the three hobbits walking with him were also grinning widely, awaiting a reaction with mischief dancing in their eyes, Gimli's broad shoulders were shaking violently as he walked in front of them, but he stayed silent.
Legolas however, liking to think he was generally at least one step ahead of the mortals - and especially the dwarf, shrugged unexpectedly. "I dislike it intensely," he stated coolly, green eyes scanning the area around them - he would not let his duties of rearguard become neglected merely for the sake of his natural-born hobby of mortal-baiting - "all this rolling in your own muck and the such, and we all stink to the high heavens, of course. And how does that saying go?" He paused with a pensive look on his face, as if trawling through the reams of knowledge in his mind, "'When in Gondor, do as the Gondorimm do'?" he asked, as if he didn't know.
Gandalf, listening from the front, rolled his eyes in almost-exasperation and looked to Aragorn, "Have you heard him?"
Aragorn winked and smiled, shaking his head, "His on his way for a fair clout, I reckon, and make no mistake," he muttered.
Boromir's brown eyes flashed golden, and they narrowed dramatically as he considered this half-hearted insult carefully. He shook his head, turned completely, and started walking slowly towards the elf, who had stopped and was simply standing there, serene and calm, one golden brow raised. "You should be careful, elf," he warned, good-naturedly, but with a hint of mock- threat seeping through into the tone, which Legolas immediately picked up on. "What you say about other's, that is..."
"Forgive me, brave Gondorimm," Legolas bowed deeply as Boromir halted before him, within grabbing distance. He looked up through his dark eyelashes, still in the midst of the bow, green eyes glinting wickedly, "I believe the saying really was 'When in the company of mortals, do as the mortals do - to a certain extent, at least'." He immediately darted away with immense, practised skill as Boromir lunged for him.
"Right you are, elf!" Boromir shouted, and began the hunt, for Legolas could not dance away from him forever.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Mithrandir, Estel? Could you, mayhap, just find us a puddle or something? Anything would be most appreciated, I'd say," inquired Legolas, now sporting a slight bruise across one high cheekbone - as it turned out, he *couldn't* dance away from Boromir forever. "I would not ask it, but Pippin is becoming increasingly tiresome, harping on and on about Meriadoc's supposed 'stench'."
Aragorn grinned slightly, "He must be bad, to have *you* saying something, Greenleaf," he said. Legolas was usually the very last to snap and lose his famed patience when it came to the troublesome antics of Peregrin Took - it seemed to be a virtue of his.
Legolas gazed at him, eyes calm and cool, "If *you* wish to act as the rearguard, mellon nin, then be my guest," he indicated the back of the fellowship with his hands and crouched down slightly as if in awe of his friend of decades, as if a humble servant. Aragorn chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. Legolas smiled and straightened, then continued seriously, "Nay, he is not bad... I am merely using him as my scapegoat - for though I fear that I have left more perspiration dry on my body in the last few days than is good for me, I do not wish to give Boromir an opening for jest... Don't even." He raised a slender hand and cut off his best friend as Aragorn opened his mouth to say something about Legolas' concern for Boromir's jesting - and not only Boromir's, as Aragorn suspected a certain dwarf had something to do with the elf's stoic behaviour. "I am not in anything resembling the mood it takes to deal with you adequately today, Estel."
Gandalf chuckled deeply, as always finding the conversations of the two humorous, brotherly as they were in their actions, "I think you'll find, Dian Las [Little Leaf], that young Peregrin Took is the scapegoat in plenty situations. Merely ask Merry and Frodo - it is not something to be ashamed of."
Legolas nodded his head with a small quirk of his lips, but then turned to them again after a momentary pause, "I feel nothing of darkness, Mithrandir: I believe we may, for once, have no Crebain upon our tail..." He trailed off as Gandalf nodded, confused that the Wizard already seemed to know that.
"I am aware of this," Gandalf stated with another nod. "And we have devised a special treat for our fellowship, because of that - Aragorn told me of this place a few days ago, and he has been leading us there ever since."
The elf looked to his best friend expectantly, and Aragorn smiled knowingly, "Aye, I have... it should be merely a half-a-league away."
And so the fellowship traveled on during the day - which was an unusual, though not unwelcome, change - only halting when they came to an almost wall of stone and foliage, standing out against the parched, flat brush of the landscape, a small woodland at it's back. "Why are we stopping here, Mr. Strider?" asked Sam as he turned, as they all did, to look at the rugged ranger with interest.
All except Legolas, he was concentrating on something, his sparkling green eyes distant, "It's muted by the stone," he blurted suddenly, "but running water is near." He grinned excitedly - which many an elf didn't do, but Legolas was a most perculiar and eccentric elf, the long years he had spent with Aragorn as his best friend giving him some quite un-elfly habits: grinning widely was one of many -"We're going to be able to wash!"
The hobbits' eyes widened and they looked positively delighted as they stared at Aragorn. The northerner simply nodded and winked at them, then turned and led the company through a small tunnel, almost hidden from outside eyes. Legolas hitched a breath slightly before venturing into the dark, enclosed passage - his father's palace might've been for the most part underground, but the caves of the Elves were wide and full of light and ventilation, with many windows cut into the solid rock. And Legolas himself lived now in quarters high above the ground and near to the sky, in the crown and branches of one of the grandest Beech trees of Mirkwood, and was happier there as he, more than any others, had always felt uneasy underground and in enclosed spaces, even his father's magnificent caves.
But presently the company came out into the open air again, in the green and surprisingly lush woods that backed the stone wall and tunnel, and Legolas breathed deeply again. Aragorn led them confidently down through a series of pathways and rock-wall passages, knowing implicitly where he was going, though the last time he had visited this place was many a year previous. The Lord of Impeccable Timing he may be, but he was a damned good ranger - the best in history's far-stretching knowledge, in fact, whether that be from the blood that ran through his veins or the Elvish way he had been brought up, none could tell. But he was fair nearly infallible when it came to the skills of a ranger.
Finally they came to an almost-clearing. It was completely closed in over them, but in a good way, with the trees surrounding stretching their limbs out and towards a common centre, weaving their branches together beautifully and without fault, and providing much needed cover for the fellowship. Gimli glanced at Legolas, who was gazing up at the trees with a small, almost sad smile upon his face, eyes shining, and then to Aragorn, "Why do the trees do that, Aragorn?" he asked, fairly interested, but not wishing to show he was in front of the elf.
Aragorn looked down at him in surprise, not thinking that the son of Gloin would be all that interested in such things, but he answered anyway, "A very, very long time ago a company of Elves once traveled here from their homes in the mountains in great danger, wishing to reach Mirkwood and then Rivendell safely, for an important message was to be delivered. They were being hunted by most foul things, and were reaching exhaustion, needing to stop desperately, and they came upon this clearing and the trees, sensing their kindred's danger, shielded them from evil. Even mountain-Elves have a bond with trees, you know."
Gimli nodded, and then straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat, "Yes, well..." he grunted.
Aragorn smiled and shook his head, his grin widening as the hobbits cried in sudden joy, "A lake! There's a lake here!"
"Damned right there's a lake here," he called out with amusement, "You expect anything other from me?" The lake was a serene, beautiful spot, deep and tranquil, the peace of the waters accentuated by the swirling underneath of dazzling greens and endless blues. It was exactly what the fellowship needed, in body, mind and spirit.
Frodo, Merry, Pippin and Boromir ran, as one, down to the water's edge, and began undressing the top halves of their bodies. They intended not only to bathe, but to take full advantage of the pleasant circumstances and have a little fun. Up until then, the last bath they had had was courtesy of Rivendell, the washes since only being quick little numbers, cold and rushed, beneath the arms and around the back of the neck; now they were going to submerge themselves totally. Gandalf and Sam sat a little bit furthur away from the lake, settling themselves against a hillock of grass, thankful for the breif respite. Aragorn and Gimli made their way down to the water at a casual pace, and Legolas followed a little way behind, eyes still taking in the wonder of the clearing and ears picking up the greetings of the trees of the wood, who hadn't had the pleasure of welcoming one of their children back into their arms for a long time. But then, his eyes fell upon the water, and he grinned.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "That's unfair, now! I refuse to be the 'tigger'!"
The large majority of the company was in the water, enjoying themselves enormously, splashing one another and diving from the edges of the small stone cliffs surrounding the lake. Sam had declined many an invitation - being wary as he was of anything other than solid ground beneath his feet - he sat instead with Gandalf, talking of many things with the wizard who, it turned out, wasn't half as scary as Samwise had previously thought.
"Now, I am an old man, but why won't *you* swim, young Gamgee?" asked Gandalf, absently searching in his pack for his pipe and weed.
The gardener shrugged shyly, his apple-cheeks flushing a rosy red, "I don't have water-legs, Mr. Gandalf, sir," he explained. "And I can't swim," he blushed even furthur.
"Well, that's not unnatural, many hobbits cannot," Gandalf assured calmly. And it was true - the small section of those who actually could swim were mainly Tooks and Brandybucks, who were thought of as queer among the Hobbiton community anyroad - as everyone knew, they were descendants from the Stoors and Fallohides, who had taken up many an unnatural habit in their time. Hobbits distrusted water immensely, what with them being creatures of comfort who very much stuck to their ways, and water being so unpredictable, the two just did not match.
"You're the one I've got my eye on to tig, elf!"
The two were silent for a short time, watching the swimmers, then... "I don't understand how Mr. Frodo is so confident and can go playing in the water, after all - you know of his parents," Sam blurted out unexpectedly. He looked slightly shocked that he had said such a thing, and rushed to correct himself, "-I-I mean... if it were me, if I were him.... W-what I mean to say is..."
Gandalf smiled fondly at the flustered young hobbit who was too wrapped up in politeness and a sense of geneality to truly speak his feelings very often, the wizard's night-blue eyes twinkled with the light of the stars as he laid a hand upon Sam's small shoulder, "Do not fret, Samwise Gamgee, I know exactly what you are thinking - and you should not bite your tongue. But you must understand that Frodo needs this relief and refreshment, and you shouldn't begrudge him of it."
Sam was aghast, "I-I wasn't, I'm not- !" he stuttered, but then stopped himself and looked down. "Mr. Gandalf, I don't begrudge him anything, I never would..." he began to try and dig his way out of this right royal hole he found himself in. But the wizard merely smiled at his attempts, and the large, gnarled hand upon his shoulder squeezed gently for some time as Gandalf's eyes returned to his comrades. Sam's brown eyes quickly followed, and he watched his friends, new and old.
"Aha! You lose, I win - t'was ever thus!"
Many a thing was happening in the lake: nearer to the shallows, Merry and Pip were splashing each other furiously in a battle of frightening vigour, their large, flat feet making excellent waves and huge splashes, and both were spluttering mouthfuls of water out at every turn - and yet neither seemed to be achieving anything.
"M-whurph... Merry! I'm going to-whumpgrh...!"
There was also a pretty standard game of underwater tig going on - which the two cousins would soon be sucked into - between the dwarf, the hobbit, the elf and the two men. Shouts of triumph and yelps of hysterical laughter reverberrated from the stone all around them. The water, though cooled by the lack of sun through the branched coverlet above them, seemed to be heated by some other force... no one could tell what, either way it was exactly the right temperature, and no one felt much like leaving the place of sanctuary. They may have been beings specially handpicked by Lord Elrond of Imladris himself, specifically for the task they had been appointed, and the astoundingly-high levels of skill and ability they could contribute to the Ringbearer, and the way they handled themselves in imminent danger. They realised they were facing peril of the utmost importance to the history of the whole of Middle-earth, they all knew they might never return home to their families, friends and loved ones at the end of it all, but for once, they just wished to enjoy themselves, to be themselves - and not think about the dangers that lay ahead.
"Right then, so be it!"
Boromir was currently the 'tigger', and he was doing everything in his power to catch up with Legolas as he steamed through the lake, but the speed of the elf underwater seemed to be even greater than the fairly considerable pace of his above - there was no catching him as he glided under the surface, more like a ghost or spirit than anything of real solidarity. Boromir, realising the futility of such a chase, soon switched tactics and launched himself at the nearby-Frodo, who deftly swam away, resulting in a huge wave rippling the area of the lake they were in, but no other 'tigger' to be crowned. Aragorn and Gimli were laughing heartily, safely away at the other side of Merry and Pippin's battle. "Steward of the Gondorimm, unable to catch up with a young hobbit less than half his size!"
"I suggest you close your mouth at once, my Lord, or I shall have to come over there and shut it for you!"
"Come on then, if you think you're fast enough!"
Legolas hauled himself up out the water, laughing loudly at the antics of his friends and Gimli. The spotlights of sun which were able to penetrate the roof of wood built over them glinting off his wet golden hair, that now, when wet, fell down way past his bare chest, and his eyes were dancing delightedly with mirth as a rather silly grin plastered itself across his fair face as he clambered up onto the highest of the small rock cliffs.
"Young Greenleaf seems to be enjoying himself," Gandalf remarked humourously with one bushy eyebrow raised, half-consumed in the task of filling his pipe.
"Aye, Mr. Legolas is a regular water-babe, and make no mistake," Sam laughed, watching as the elf dove off the cliff of stone into the water, but making no splash nor sound as he disappeared beneath the surface. Elves loved water, believing it to be the most beautiful, powerful, grand, treacherous, enchanting thing upon the earth - that was part of the reason why the call of the sea claimed each and every elf at some point in their long lives, may it be for better or worse. Legolas was no exception.
"And he's back in the game!"
By now, Merry and Peregrin had, indeed, been sucked into the game of tig. It was increasing in intensity and joy, what with half of the contestants laughing too much to put up a proper fight and swim as fast as they normally could, making it easier to tig, less of a challenge, and thereby deminishing the whole point of the game. Ergo, the dunking began.
"Aragorrraagggh!"
It was Aragorn's fault; he started by dunking Legolas, who then dunked Merry - the closest to him - who then dunked Peregrin - naturally - who then attempted to dunk Boromir, but failed, so both his cousins had to help him out by jumping, as one, onto Boromir's broad back, succesfully making the Gondorimm's head go beneath the surface, despite the warrior's protests. By this point, everyone was dunking everyone else, Gandalf and Sam were laughing from the shoreline, spirits were high and the water a boiling pot of activity.
"I can't believe you just did that!"
But, as with all good things, it had to come to an end. So when the sky was beginning to darken and night was drawing in, Gandalf called a halt to the beings in the water, "We shall camp here tonight, and set off again on the morrow, for this is as safe a place as any." He did a quick head count, but only counted six, slightly blue, faces in the lake. His eyes narrowed, and after a moment, he spotted the problem. "Legolas, where is Gimli?"
The rest of the company turned to Legolas, who's demeanour and expression was entirely innocent, green eyes widened. "I don't know what you mean, Mithrandir," he stated calmly, unaware that a trail of bubbles was drifting up from his left side and popping upon the surface of the now-still water was betraying him.
Aragorn raised a dark brow, looking very much different now that all the mud and signs of travel had been washed from his weary features, and his hair lay clean and straight against his scalp, "If you do not know where he is, who is that dwarf you are presently holding underwater?" He knew his best friend would neve intentionally hurt the son of Gloin without having an adequate reason, but then again, Gimli's blunt and yet sharp-tongued comment about Legolas' beloved, late mother may have given the elf a just cause.
Legols looked mildly surprised, "What dwarf?" Then, as if suddenly remembering something, his green eyes widened theatrically, "*Oh*, you mean *this* dwarf?" And with a startling strength that one would not expect from such a thin creature, he hauled up a spluttering, drenched, red-haired being from under the surface of the water with ease. The company was mildly speechless for quite some time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The fellowship was mainly asleep, the hobbit's having foregone their usual sleeping arrangement for some reason - no longer where they all in a pile. Gandalf snored deeply into his hat which was placed at an angle over his face. A slightly blue-in-the-lips Pippin was curled up against Aragorn's side, head on the ranger's shoulder, as the man slept with his head resting back on his pack, throat open; Frodo's ebony-curled head lay upon Aragorn's flat stomach, using the man as a pillow. Boromir lay on hs front, golden- brown head kept up off the floor by the crossed arms it rested upon. Merry's feet had been cold, so he had wrapped himself up in one of the extra blankets, as well as his own, and had fallen asleep before his head really hit his pack. Gimli, mildly dryer than he had been earlier, slept as far away from Greenleaf as possible, so as not to explode with fury at every sight of him, and Sam stood, a blanket around his shoulders, watching Legolas watch the water.
The time for watch-change had come, and yet had passed the elf by without notice. He had eyes only for the surface of the water, and his mind strayed back to his home as he unplaited his golden warrior braids; his eldest sister, Niandias, was to be wed to a very fine young gentleman called Githrell whom Legolas liked very much - the imminent wedding part of the reason why King Thranduil would not give his blessing to let his youngest son leave their lands, let alone to join the fellowship (no doubt Thranduil's good friend, Elrond, would be getting an earful from the irate King about Legolas' decision to leave ~Poor Lord Elrond~). Legolas had left, knowing that he would miss his sister's wedding, but believing it to be for the greater good. But now.... as he imagined he saw her beautiful face in the water, with the faces of his family crowded around....
Legolas sighed heavily, his large eyes straying, once again, out towards the middle of the lake, where the fragmented Moon and scattered stars were reflected in it's depths. Sam thought it was time to make himself known - the fact that Legolas hadn't already sensed he was there testiment to solemness of his thoughts.
"Hullo, there, Mr. Legolas, sir," he said cheerfully, as he went and sat down next to the Elven prince.
"Mae govannen, Master Gamgee," Legolas said with a smile, thankful, as always, that a hobbit was nearby. It was most perculiar - he found himself fiercely fond of all the halflings and delighted in their company; he had never met creatures as strange, as big-hearted, as wonderous, as infuriating, as simple, as joyous and as beautiful as the four he currently found himself company with. And Samwise Gamgee was the exact remedy he needed for such gloomy thoughts of his. "What are you doing up and about, asleep you should be, Sam," Legolas said this as a father might say to a wayward child on discovering the small one sitting upon the stairwell, late at night.
"Aye, well, that's not strictly true, Mr. Legolas," Sam said with a half- smile, less shy than he would usually have been - the ease and mirth he found in Legolas' company having helped his fear of superior beings, especially Elves, greatly.
Legolas raised one golden brow, "Oh?"
"Well, by rights, sir, you're meant to be alseep by now; it's my watch, if you follow me."
"Of course, yes!" Legolas blushed, his tapered ears flushing subtly to a light pink, "Forgive me, Master Samwise, my thoughts ran away with me all of a sudden," he paused. "I was watching the water," he confided, for that explained everything to him.
And Sam, of course, immediately understood; he had observed the elf's fascination with water before, and found it amusing. He nodded and smiled warmly, revelling in the fact that *he* could single-handedly make the elf laugh melodiously, almost at will. True enough, the elf's grin widened simply by looking into the young gardener's earnest, freckled-brown, round face. How he did love the hobbits, and Sam, in particular, held a special cornerstone of his heart, it seemed. He squeezed Sam's shoulders, and used him as a support as he stood, winked, and walked away to his welcoming bedroll.
And Samwise was left to contemplate just how good it made him feel to have his shoulder squeezed in friendship by two such superior beings he had, at first, been very much frightened of.
"A regular water-babe, indeed," he murmured with a smile as he settled himself to watch the ever-shifting surfaces of the water. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~