A/N: ELVEN SEXUALITY is about to be discussed here (I put this in all caps to make it visible to any freaked out mothers who may think I'm sneaking in to corrupt their children. I am not.). It's very light stuff really — note my rating is R (not NC-17), and that is due mostly to the overall violence in this story, and not for sex. I really have no intentions of offending anyone, and this chapter was written mostly for fun! Try to look at it that way and keep an open mind as you move forward. And for all you horror-mongers out there— she's back

The Hunting Trip

Chapter Four: Longings

The road from Minas Tirith to Doro Lanthiron was not a long one. And unless one chose to walk rather than travel on the back of a horse, the distance could be traversed in less than a day. The highway between those lands was hardened and well kept, and there was little trouble to be found there to detract a rider from his trail.

Six riders there were on the trail that day with an entourage of twenty posting guard over the safety of the King, and the Prince, and their company. A standard-bearer to the front bore the flag of Gondor, and five others followed to encircle the King and his Queen. Three horses with four riders came in succession after the King and Queen, the first two manned by Faramir and his Princess bride, while the last bore the Lord of Ithilien Elves and the Lord of the Glittering Caves, who shared a mount. Fourteen more guards trailed behind them as they made their way through Osgiliath and across the Anduin, on into Ithillien. Any who looked on would have remarked at the regal bearing of the party.

However, there were two among the riders who were feeling far less than regal. If anything, they were feeling somewhat nauseated. But adding to this, a moody darkness pervaded them. Short though the ride might have been between the lands of men and elves, it was an extremely long one for the two riders on the single horse. Neither elf nor dwarf had expended much energy to converse with one another, and the outside observer might assume that was due to the peaked semblance the two bore. But the two knew it was much more than that. While Gimli had earlier on made an attempt to converse with his companion, he was met by a stone cold silence, and the dwarf could not help but be a little afraid of the wrath he had unleashed. And yet, the question of whether Gimli should dare ride with the elf never entered either of their minds. Legolas had made room for the dwarf on the back of his steed, and Gimli had joined him without thinking twice on the matter. For they both understood that while trouble may have festered under the surface of their friendship, it was only a temporary lapse, and their normal comradeship would return between them soon enough. Once the elf had his revenge.

At the front of the mount, the elf seethed. Legolas replayed again and again the morning's humiliation and each time he thought on it, his mood grew ever fouler. It did not help that he was aided in his ire by a pressing pain in his head that muddled his thoughts, he was still able to put together the pieces of everything that had happened to him as their ride progressed. The ridicule and harassment he had received at the hands of the dwarf were clear evidence alone that the incident of last night had not just been an accidental encounter. It had been intended. Legolas could not help but fume at that. He was angry, and not only at Gimli. With hindsight, the elf saw how the dwarf had plied him into such a grim ruse. No, the real anger he felt was directed at himself for falling easily as prey to it all.

Priggish! Legolas thought. It came down to that one word, he knew, and it grated on him how a remark such as that had the power to generate those wretched events. Legolas' mind rumbled as he tried to remember it all. There were blanks in his memory and he did not like having them. Yet worse was the knowledge that he need not have suffered this loss if he had only listened to himself. I never should have let the dwarf goad me into that drink. I had made my selection. I should have stayed with it. I was a fool to let something so small affect me that way. These thoughts plagued his mind, and try as he might, the elf could not get it out of his head. He was deeply offended that Gimli had called him such a thing, for in Legolas' mind, his character was far from priggish. If anything, Legolas thought, he was fair and open-minded, hardly the prudent and uptight character Gimli portrayed him to be. If anyone should be termed a prig, Legolas scowled, it should be the dwarf!

As he allowed the slow cantor of his horses trot to rock him in his misery, Legolas scoured his mind to find examples to justify this thought of his friend. He thought back to the beginnings of their friendship, in the first days in Lórien. Galadriel's words to the dwarf had much swayed Legolas' opinion, which up until that time had not been estimated very high by the elf. But there was something in the way the dwarf seemed to appreciate the beauty of the Lady that stirred a commonality between them. It was then that Legolas wondered what other things he might find that could be used to build a bond, and so he invited Gimli to join him in his visit to that land. Many days they lingered there, and as they roamed the Golden Wood, Legolas came to appreciate the dwarf's taste in fair things. With his defenses down, he could see that they had far more in common than he had presumed. That was where it had started, and before they left Lothlórien, the two were as close in friendship as two beings could be. But it was also the place where Legolas learned how extremely different elves and dwarves could be.

His mind went back to a day in those beginnings of friendship. They had been walking down a path in the more remote parts of the wood, an area that none other of the fellowship had explored. Neither had said much to the other in the hours they had gone on, but enough had transpired over the course of that day that they felt at ease with one another and did not feel necessarily compelled to speak right then. Legolas' gaze, as usual, had been in the trees, but Gimli, being a dwarf, had had his eyes rooted to the surroundings at ground level. Gimli saw it much sooner than Legolas did, though the elf had heard the whispers and utterances far back on the trail. It was the look of unabashed shock on the dwarf's face that caught Legolas' attention, and the elf turned to see what sent such surprise to his diminutive companion.

There on the grass in a small meadow enclosed within the forest were two maidens reposing themselves in the sun. Their bodies were bare, and the clothing they had shed were strewn about them. The grass about them was trampled in many places, and it appeared as if they had been playing in the lush green carpet. One of them giggled as the other caressed her thigh, and then as if lovers, they kissed, long and soft. One hand reached up as it gently cupped a breast of her lover, and the other reciprocated by stroking the base of a smoothly craned neck. It was lovely to behold the two beauties, enraptured and unbound in earthy passions, and Legolas paused for a moment to appreciate the beauty of their loving meditations. Only briefly did he linger, for to stay longer would have been impolite, and he turned his gaze away just as quickly as he had brought it up. Moving on, he expected the dwarf to follow his steps. But within a few paces of whence he had started, he realized the dwarf was not at his side. Looking back, he saw Gimli's expression had not changed. The dwarf's feet remained rooted in the spot he had stood.

Moving back to his companion, Legolas stepped into Gimli's line of vision, effectively breaking the spell that had been cast on the dwarf. Gimli's face went crimson as he sputtered and pointed to where the two maidens lay. Legolas looked over his shoulder to the elves in the grass, waving apologetically for the intrusion. He was met with scornful stares that were sent in the direction of the dwarf. Swiftly grabbing Gimli's elbow, Legolas dragged him away, moving the stolid figure from that place as quickly as the short legs would go.

Once free of the meadow, Legolas had released the dwarf's arm, and fuming at the impropriety he had seen displayed, the elf lambasted Gimli for his poor behavior, "By Ilúvatar's Rule, what were you thinking back there? I have never seen coarser behavior! That was rude! Did your mother never tell you it is improper to stare?"

Equally as riled, the dwarf did not flinch as he said, "BY AÜLE'S RULE! Unhand me! I am acting as any sane being would act, for my mother never told me how I should react if I were to see naked women frolicking on the green! You dare grow angry with me? You should be angry with them. Look at them! Repulsive! Repulsive that was!"

Legolas was truly aghast, blinking in surprise at the dwarf's terse words. He found himself backing away from the irate expression on the dwarf's face as he was at a loss as to what could cause it. His brow furrowed in confusion as he sputtered in reply, "That was a thing of beauty! How can you say this?" He was completely perplexed that Gimli could find anything obscene in the female elves' interaction.

He could not know and did not know, that perceptions of sexuality by other races could be seen as anything beyond what he had come to understand. For that, Legolas saw the scene between the two maidens as nothing unusual. Trying very hard to understand the dwarf, Legolas pushed his mind to see their encounter from another perspective. Something had stirred up this deep emotional response in the dwarf. But he could not fathom the mystery of it. In Legolas' mind, the maidens' sexual act was as a genuine in its natural beauty as a voice lifted in song. Their feelings were only an extension of who they were and he felt this in itself was a gift.

Thoroughly flummoxed by the dwarf's reaction, but determined to make good, he took several breaths to calm himself before moving on to uncover what it was that upset his stout comrade. Changing his tone and his tactic, Legolas asked with sincere curiosity, as if he had misinterpreted the dwarf's reason to anger, "Would it have been different had they been two males?"

Gimli's face went a shade more crimson as he bellowed his response. "That would be worse!" the dwarf answered. "Do not even speak of THAT!" Legolas involuntarily backed even further away, subconsciously fearing a rupture of some vessel might occur.

But the sight before him was comical and the corners of Legolas' mouth lifted at the sight of Gimli's reddened face and bulging eyes. It was rather humorous to look at and Legolas had to snicker in amusement. The elf was beginning to comprehend the dwarf's discomfort even though he didn't fully appreciate its cause. "Ah, I see," said Legolas, laughing softly. "So only if it were a male-female dalliance would you have reacted with propriety."

"Male-female, yes. But the propriety should come from them. They should keep their personal matters to themselves, and their clothing on their bodies! To be seen out in public like that, naked for all the world to see," the dwarf tsked, looking back in the direction of the two forms.

Legolas couldn't help laughing. Still, he tried to qualify the dwarf's response. "Please tell me why you say this, Gimli, for truly I do not understand. Mayhap it is part of being a dwarf? Is it their nakedness that embarrasses you? Or their sexuality? To an elf, there is nothing more enchanting, more lovely, than the sharing of oneself through body and soul. Do you not think that mating is a part of nature? Look around you, it is everywhere. The flowers, the insects, the animals, the birds — all let their bodies merge, without shame."

"Yes, I will grant you, it is in nature. But there it is primal, a yearning — something done between male and female for purposes of baring offspring. As elves do not die or show much need for children, I thought they might be more highly evolved in their behavior than what I have seen. I should have known better, I suppose — I have never held elves highly and it is only because of the Lady's words that I gave you more credit than I should have. I imagined that your people had far more sense than that of — of — of bugs," Gimli growled, stuttering over the last of his words.

"You think elves live in chastity? You think we have not needs? Yearnings?" Legolas asked with disbelief, sighing at Gimli's mockery. It was really a mystery to the elf that there would be so much animosity towards so simple a thing. And over the pairing, female-female, male-male, female-male, it was all the same to Legolas. Sharing a moment of love and gratification with another, that was what mattered. That was the gift. Gimli's attitude on this was completely alien to the elf. He could find nothing to justify the dwarf's repulsion. And yet still, he attempted to grasp the significance of the dwarf's argument. In innocence he asked, "Do not dwarves have sexual urges?"

With blustering rage, the dwarf answered, "That is no business of yours!"

But Legolas persisted, not to be cruel or insensitive, but because he had no experience with feelings of this sort. The scene they had come across was so typical in the life of an elf on a peaceful days passing, that had the dwarf not stopped, he probably never would have even noticed. But by Gimli's answer he could see he was close to nearing the dwarf's breaking point, and so he tempered his comments as more jibe than rebuke in the hopes that Gimli would lighten his stance. "And yet you yourself are modestly more evolved than a bug. I know that you can appreciate female beauty. You hold awe for the Lady Galadriel, do you not? Passionate feeling is not much further removed, and the admiration and appreciation of a beautiful face could be said to be the preface of intentions much greater," Legolas said pointedly.

With narrowed eyes, Gimli threatened through gritted teeth, "Be careful, elf! You are walking A VERY TREACHEROUS PATH!"

Holding up his hands, Legolas reconsidered as he laughed, "Peace, Gimli. I see you are troubled by this. Perhaps the Lady is too lofty an example for you. I will not persist. But try to respect that elves do not hold as staunch an opinion as you would have us. And try not to gawk should we encounter another tryst."

Gimli sputtered as his eyes widened, "Another? Have elves no bed chambers in which to do this most intimate activity?"

Legolas laughed, easing the mood with his merriment. "Certainly. Bedchambers, stables, kitchens, libraries, floors, walls, chairs, railings, stairs, trees, grass, pools shall I go on? All are abundant here," he said with a raised brow and a smirk, trying with some success to raise a smile on the dwarf's face.

"Please do not continue," said the dwarf as he eyed the landscape, as if warily expecting another intimate scene to pop out on him at any moment. Finally recognizing how silly he must have looked, he chuckled softly as he turned his attention back on the elf. It was his turn to ponder the elf's ease at this happenstance. His mood visibly lightened as he looked up at Legolas and asked, "Tell me, elf, if this is such a natural thing to your people, why have none other in the Fellowship made comment of it? Think of me prudish if you will, but I know this behavior is not common outside of your borders? The others would not accept it any better than I. Why did we not see it when we were in Rivendell?"

"It was there in Imladris, though perhaps you and the others were not attentive enough to notice it. For to an elf, even something so small as a touch can convey sexual feelings. We can find pleasure just in that. And in this way, elves tend to be discreet, despite what you may think. And even in more forthright displays, they intimacy is kept candid. Let us not forget who intruded upon whom with the maidens, Gimli. Perhaps you will understand if I tell you that elves do not consider sexuality a vulgarity. Therefore we do not treat it that way. We do not feel compelled to hide it. But neither do we feel compelled to foist our passions on others to witness. As you would assume, that would be callous and unnecessary and, as you point out, bad mannered. We see acts of love and sensuality as intimacies that are strictly personal. Our eyes may glance upon the physical actions of it, but the feelings within are respected as something to be kept strictly between the two." Then glancing at the dwarf to see if he could get another humorous reaction, he added, "Or the three." He was not disappointed. Legolas laughed quite merrily at the shocked face Gimli had given him.

"All the same," said the dwarf shaking his head in response to the elf's joke, "I will be very conscious of whom I may touch or remark upon while I am here. I would not want anyone to get the wrong impression." Legolas laughed again and they had continued on their way.

Legolas' horse trotted on, and the dwarf dozed at his back. It had been more than twelve years since that event, and yet to Legolas it was merely a short span of time. And yet sometimes, he mused to himself, I feel as if I have changed more than my friend, for Legolas was open to the opportunities of learning from his experiences. That in itself made him unique as an elf, for so many of his kind stayed complacent in their mindsets. To Legolas, that thinking was the doom of the elves. He was sure of it. To never appreciate the world beyond that of elven creation is to put a limit on oneself, he thought. His own father was guilty of that flaw. And so, in some ways was Gimli (in the dwarven extreme, of course), for Legolas knew, without asking, that the dwarf's opinion on the intimacy of the elves had not changed. But with Gimli, at least, Legolas had hope. Among dwarves there was no other he had encountered who had been so open-minded and eager to try and improve upon himself than his friend. Maybe someday the dwarf would truly understand every facet of the elf he called his friend. And this was a remarkable compliment in Legolas' mind, despite his anger at Gimli's pranks.

With his mind drifting onward through these wayward thoughts, the ones at the forefront returned now to his father. More and more so he had strayed in that direction over the past few months. Not because he wanted to, but because he had need to. Despite all appearances, things were not well for the elves of Ithilien, and much to Legolas' chagrin, an infusion of capital is what the elves of Doro Lanthiron needed most. There had been great growth of the elf population in the region, far greater than any he or his counselors had considered, for their projections on trade had been based on a number much smaller than what Ithilien now housed. Their exports were far less than what they imported, and their fiscal straits were growing troublesome to Legolas' mind. It was this that had brought his mind more often of late to think of his father. He had considered petitioning Thranduil for support, as one elven realm to another. And truthfully, the majority of Ithilien's new citizenry came from that land. A request for share of Greenwood's wealth at the cost of taking some of her populace would not be unwarranted. And were Greenwood ruled by any other leader than Thranduil, Legolas would not have hesitated to do so. But somehow, the idea of asking his father for anything made Legolas shudder.

It was not that Thranduil was unkind to the elf. If anything, the opposite was true. The good King doted on his son, when Legolas would allow it. No, the source of Legolas' ambivalence towards his father was simply their difference in approaches. It would be safe to say that the two were complete opposites of each other. Consciously or not, the younger elf went out of his way to do exactly the contrary of what his father would do. It was a benchmark for Legolas to say to himself, And Thranduil would handle this how? Yet, truly the part that rankled Legolas the most was the way his father found to take credit for all the younger one's accomplishments. Fierce pride in his son made him boastful, Legolas could see, but the elder King, in his conceit, was able to rob his son of the merits he had attained on his own. He didn't actually claim he had done the actions himself, but somehow he would manage to convey that he was the true cause for his son's good sense. Legolas remembered the first time he had returned home after battle as a warrior for the King. He was young and inexperienced, and though well trained, he was not savvy enough to know strategies well. It was sheer luck and cleverness that had Legolas' first campaign succeed, and yet on his return, Thranduil's response had been not what the younger had expected. Instead of lauding the Prince for his quick wits and fortitude in the engagement, the good King had said, "Tis only to be expected. For is he not my son?" Legolas' ego quickly deflated. And so had been the course of their long history as father and son. Thranduil seemed to swallow any acts of bravery or wisdom on Legolas' part and add it to his own showcase of ego. And so, to the casual observer, was it any wonder that Legolas fled Mirkwood upon the end to the war to take up residence in the land that had housed the foulness of Mordor? Such was the strength of Legolas' chagrin. To Legolas, it was not that the King would deny him. Most anything of Thranduil's could be had by the King's heir. He had only to ask. But the price for the King's generosity was that the son would have to acknowledge his father's role in the endeavor. Legolas did not think he had not grown quite that desperate. Not yet.

He mused to himself, Perhaps if I married he would loosen his purse and go so far as to share some of the wealth that he hoards. Without my having to ask, that is. It was only a passing thought and nothing that the Lord of Doro Lanthiron would consider even seriously. Legolas knew, above all other things, that Thranduil wished to see his son wed. It was something the younger elf could not understand, for he did not love anyone enough to bind himself to their troth, especially for the rest of eternity. But in his misguided logic, the old King somehow felt a bride was needed to fulfill Legolas' role as a leader of elves. The younger could only shake his head, though he wished he could point out that both Thranduil and Elrond had both ruled sufficiently without a wife at their sides, and for many a long year at that. Sighing he knew it was another point that would be lost on his father. And so the King of Greenwood continued to send lovely she-elves of high lineage to visit with the former Prince of Eryn Lasgallen. Legolas was appalled by the behavior, and shocked all the worse that most of the females were aware of what was happening. Legolas found it all quite repulsive but Thranduil just shrugged. Love was not a factor in the King's thinking and he was fond of saying that Legolas would learn his affection. Still, the elf resisted this too of his father. He knew when he wed, it would be love that would move him, and there would be nothing of politics to interfere with his reasoning. He saw no reason to hasten his search for a mate. Valar willing, he would live a very long life. He could wait a while more to find his true love.

And with these nagging thoughts of his father rolling through his mind, accompanied by the gnawing anger he still felt toward Gimli, Legolas suddenly realized what truly bothered him most.

Manipulation. He had been manipulated. By a word, no less, and that was unacceptable in Legolas' mind. And most particularly, he had been maneuvered by that word, for now that he thought on it, had he not heard his father wield it often in his own realm? Legolas came to see that this is what had been the impetus of the other night's ordeal. His father, or more correctly the silent desire to please and conform to the ways of his father. Unknowingly, he had been pushed him to behave as he had. The word stirred old memories, for his father was a master at getting his way. Using words deceptively was not an unusual tactic for the Eldar King. In his younger days, Legolas had fallen gullible prey to such maneuvers often, molding himself into the form that Thranduil saw fit as his son. But over many centuries of time, hard-pressed battles of will had given Legolas his freedom and upon his departure from Greenwood, and even far before that time, Legolas had shed his father's direct influence to his actions. Or so he had thought. Realizing he was still susceptible, Legolas felt shame. And what do I have to show for it, thought the elf. I was cowed and acted just like the elf my father is. Repulsion to that realization made Legolas shudder. But I can learn, he thought. I can make sure I do not repeat this mistake again.

"Priggish," he muttered to himself, surprised he had said the word aloud at all. Gimli was wrong in this characterization. If he only knew! Legolas' mind screamed in abject anger. It was evidence to him that there was still a long way to go before Gimli would truly understand everything there was to know about the elf. He conceded that while his actions last night were not typical for him, neither was the gift of Gimli's word. Priggish. Legolas felt certain that had Gimli seen him only a few months earlier, at the Spring festivals in his realm, the dwarf would have abolished the word from his vocabulary entirely. Now that was an event that would have sent Gimli running for sure! Legolas thought with amusement. It was the time of the year in which the elves decanted the earliest of their vintages, and in turn they celebrated the return of the warmer seasons. He thought now that that word certainly did not fit with the role Legolas had played as host to the festivities and as the Lord of Doro Lanthiron. Chucking to himself he mused on the most recent event. Oh yes, much wine had been consumed by the elves on that day — and that night — and the mirth and the physical interludes that had followed afterward might have curled the hair on the dwarf's mighty beard. Recalling his own very intimate exchange on that occasion, Legolas smiled at the thought of the dancer who had caught his attention. A sensual pleasure his body had been to the elf and a happy sigh escaped him, almost eliminating the queasy feeling that had haunted him all that day.

And then suddenly, all these thoughts whirled to a head and an idea came to him. Perhaps this was how he would find his retribution toward the dwarf. He could invite Gimli to attend the festival next year! Yes! An uptight dwarf amidst a phalanx of passion-driven elves? Now that would be a sight to behold. Just thinking of it made Legolas laugh aloud, and he had to clap his hand to his mouth to refrain the noise from being heard. His spirits immediately began to soar. Of course, he would need to get the dwarf drunk beforehand or he would never even be able to get him near any of it. But that would be easy enough to do. Perhaps something like what he had experienced with Aragorn in Haloel might do it.* And perhaps he could even get Gimli to appreciate elven wines after all. Too bad he would have to wait so long to get his revenge, but it would be worth it to see the dwarf in the midst an orgy. Besides, for Legolas time held little meaning. He could easily wait, even if it meant having to endure Gimli's taunts in the meantime. And now Legolas knew he could get past his anger and return to the normal course of his friendship with the dwarf. Why, just the change in his mood might be enough to set Gimli on edge. The anticipation would be sheer torture alone, and Legolas laughed again at the cleverness of his plan.**

After all, given the circumstances of Gimli's role in inducing Legolas' drunkenness, and the subsequent humiliation that had followed, revenge was the only fitting thing to do. And when it came, Legolas was going to enjoy it. He smiled wickedly.

****

Riding ahead of the elf, Aragorn also smiled, though not wickedly, and not for the same reasons. The King could not help but notice the authority of their entourage as they rode onward. He was glad there came fewer and fewer to observe them, for their appearance was meant only as a deception, and soon it would be coming to an end. Once reaching the home of the elves in that region, he knew the lands grew more sparse to the populace of men, and the dire safety of he and his friends became less a factor to their journey. No one aside from his court knew his intentions on this trip, and he was glad, for he longed to be free to roam the wilds, unhindered.

Finding safety in Legolas' home among the woodland elves, the guard would be dismissed to go on their way leaving the King and his friends to the open lands that they sought for respite. With assurances that they would be isolated in a protected place, Elessar had conceded to his court's plan, arguing only in regards to the perceived need of the King for supervision. He gave in at last, but not without a fight.

Six of his men would linger a league or two from their camp, checking in on the King and his party at the end of the first week, serving as an escort to the company again when Elessar deemed he was ready to depart.

Aragorn had wanted no men, but his generals wanted all of them, and in the end they had agreed to a total of six soldiers in waiting. Small and unobtrusive was that number, and their removal from his party would make it seem that he and his friends were alone and had privacy. As for his safety or the safety of his wife and friends, he had no fear. The cleanness of the land from fell creatures was a gift from the elves. They had done fine work in making the land whole again and no orc, or warg, or even a wayward wizard could be found there further. And because of this, and this alone, the King was granted a reprieve with only the six men nearby. At least, he thought, we will have a place to keep the horses, as that was the only benefit he saw to keeping the men about. He felt their presence was ludicrous. It had long been decided that warrior elves would accompany their return when the visit was complete, and until then, he and his companions were more than capable of taking care of themselves. The King had not grown rusty in his time at the throne.

To his minister's chagrin, Elessar refused to dictate an itinerary for his journey, saying only that the timetable for their return would be within a month. He did it more to annoy them than for any other reason, but for the trouble they caused him, he felt they more than deserved his vacillation. At least he had been good enough to leave those in charge the discretion to give minor rulings on his behalf. More than that was not deemed necessary as Gondor lived in peacetime. And if needed, the six guards could retrieve their King and return him to Minas Tirith within a day. But Aragorn expected nothing like that to occur, and he was looking forward to his long-earned solitude.

Aragorn shook his head. Such dealings he had endured for so little a thing. A small break from his role, that is all he had asked. As the King he had much in the way of privilege and comforts, but the price for those things was a complete lack of privacy that he could have never anticipated before he came to power. To be rid of an entourage and alone at last, that was a freedom he had fought hard to keep and, oh, how he longed for it now! He thought back on the days when he had nothing to claim but his sword and his horse, and he had meandered middle-earth with open abandon. Wistfully he sighed as he thought on times past.

Not that he wanted to go back. Not completely at least. Those days had been hard and had been plagued by dangers unknown, and the haunting yearning to be at Arwen's side had wakened him on many a cold night. Life was far better now. He would never deny it. But still there was a part of him that longed to regain some of the wildness lost from that former life. And he missed the bond that had been there with Arwen in those days of separateness. Back then all they had longed for was to be at each other's side.

It bothered him that he always was accompanied by a throng of guards on every outing, despite his own skills with a sword. And despite his demands to be left to his peace, he was overruled by his ministers or generals in this matter. He may have been the King, but not every action in his realm was ratified by his word. Some things went by the order of others, and in matters of his personal safety, Elessar had no choice but to follow orders. Although he obliged, he at times felt as their prisoner rather than their leader.

Arwen could see his frustration at being penned. Her feelings were similar, he supposed, though she was not as repressed as he was, and she could tolerate it better than he. Having grown up in unsafe lands, she had long grown used to the idea of escorts to travel from realm to realm. But once in the safety of those far away places, her companions had always relinquished their claim on her and she was allowed freedom of her own again. As the Queen of Gondor, however, even within the safe confines of her city, complete freedom was not hers to have. It was only when she was quietly sequestered within the palace that she ever truly was given privacy. The adjustment to being Queen was not an easy thing. It was, he suspected, a small part of the cause for their current difficulties. He understood what she wished for — something more as well. How could she help it. He hoped that this trip would ease some of that troubling her and would aid him in pursuing the direction he sought for their lives together. Somehow, things had to change between them, for Aragorn knew he could not remain quiet on this topic much more.

It was Arwen's idea, really, this trip of theirs, and she and Eowyn had plotted it out carefully over time. That pleased him. With stealth minds they had planned out the ruse of the guard, a pretense that would have them leave the city as they must. And it was their idea to go to Ithilien, on the pretense of visiting the elves for an undisclosed time. And it was their idea for the party to sneak north, and to camp at the old stronghold of Henneth Annûn, for there they could relax and live among the beauty of the wood, and still feel as if safety were being considered in their plans. And it was Aragorn's idea to go hunting, for he wished to walk freely in the woods once more.

With freedom so near at hand, Aragorn felt himself beginning to relax. Every eventuality had been considered as they had planned for this journey. It was strange to put so much effort into the leisure of freedom, but in the end it would be worth it. He was sure nothing could go wrong.

********

She hummed a strange tune to herself as the wagon rolled forward over the smooth forest floor. Her body and head rocked with the motion, but she was not distracted by it. All around her, her furnishings and goods jangled to the swaying of the vardo, though all were secure in their place. The sound of those objects making cling clang noises within there own caches added to the sound of her humming. It was almost a hypnotic din. Her music, if music it could be called, carried no rhythm or melody. It was a low droning noise, deep and resonating from her throat. Its quality was mysterious and haunting.

Her gaze was directed to her knotty fingers which pulled and spun flaxen threads into a fine silk cord that she rolled around her fingers as she completed the fine roping. The song seemed to urge on her hands, and with dexterity, she twisted and pulled the long fibers, braiding them nimbly into each other.

In the palm of her hand she held an object. It was the thing that the cord latched onto. A simple piece of wood it was, unshaped and crude, significant only in that it was made from a piece of lightning-struck beech wood. She had been savoring this found treasure, for it had special strengths. Strong and rare and touched by the dark forces of nature, it was the perfect element to use in her sorcery. On the surface of the wood fragment, she had burned in a picture of the sun, the symbol for power, and within that she had drawn the outline of a running figure. These markings honed in on the power within the wood and aided her in completing the charm.

She continued to hum as her fingers finished the braid. Then picking up a bead she had earlier carved, she added it into the ornament to seal off the ends. She smiled and brought her tune to an end. Admiring her work, she wrapped the cord back into her hands while she grabbed the pile of extra hair she had used to construct the string, and tucked it into a drawer at her table. Then lifting her hand in the air, she allowed the talisman to swing down and sway to the motion of the wagon. She laughed as she watched it weave through the air.

The owl opened its eyes and craned its head at the old woman's musing cackle. She drew her attention to where it sat on its perch and she decided it was time for the creature to do its job on her behalf. A wicked grimace decorated her face as she laughed at it and said, "No elf shall escape us now, Rartichirilo. No fight will there be in it and this will keep it in place." She held up the ornament for the speckled bird to see. "It is time. I need your sharp eyes again." The bird blinked at her words. "I have longings that need to be fulfilled. Find it for me! Find me an elf!"

She held out her arm to the bird of prey, and the owl stepped upon it. Balancing herself as she stood and walked to the back of the wagon, she drew back the curtain with her unused arm. Looking one last time at the creature before allowing her release, she said, "Drive ahead of our course and tell us where we may go. Return to me when you have found one. You must hurry, my friend! We are only days away from our end." And with that she propelled the owl into the cooling air. The wolfhounds that trailed the wagon barked as the bird of prey flew over their heads, calling out their encouragement to their sister-hunter. The night creature swooped once over the wagon and then brought her tail feathers downward as her strong wings pumped the air and she soared onward into the setting face of the sun.

Rartichirilo — night bird

* And yet another teaser for Jocelyn's story. Oh, I can hardly wait until that chapter is complete! Hurry, Jocelyn! Write faster!

**For those of you who have read my other fics, do you recall at the end of chapter one in "Torn Between Two Worlds" when Legolas wakes from his long sleep and urges Gimli to leave? The dwarf responds by saying, "I could leave, but I would rather stay for a while longer. Spring will soon approach. And you know I have a fondness for the new vintages." I didn't really know what that statement could imply when I wrote it, but it sure fits nicely into this tale now. Do you think perhaps Legolas' trick backfired? Perhaps the elf doesn't know his friend as well as he thought he had and that Gimli truly is able to change his views on sex? Well, if nothing else, this sentence proves at least that Gimli did learn to appreciate good elven wines.

A/N: Can you believe it? Four chapters and a Prologue and only twenty-four hours have slipped by? Well, I promise to make this move forward a bit faster from here on, although I will say the entirety of this little adventure occurs in the span of about four or five days, so don't panic if this seems to be going a little slowly.

I promised some other LOTR fanfic recommendations, and here they are. I like doing this, as I often have a hard time finding good stories, so when I do find them, I want to share. Besides those I list in my Favorites (please check them out, they are all superior fictions), I've recently come across a few more good reads. Try: "The Caverns of Mirkwood" by Nebride (which is a sequel to "The Road to Isengard", another good story); "Time and Space" by Artemis Prime; "In the Halls of the Wood Elf King" by Treehugger (a good LOL story); and "Shopping in Dale" by GreyLadyBast (although I still want more of this, I'm recommending it now — it's great). And another new one (though the storyline really fouled my mood today, but I'm trusting the author to remedy this soon — just joking) is "To the Ends of Middle Earth" by Jay. Tell them I sent you. There are more stories that I am following as well, but I'm waiting to see how they progress before I recommend them. So, those of you I have been reviewing but haven't recommended yet, you know what to do. Write more!

And thank you to those who reviewed. I also want to thank those who have recently added me to their Favorite's List (seven additions in the last two weeks? Yippee! And gosh!). That is always so surprising to me! Unfortunately, I only see the numbers grow and have no way of tracing them unless you review. But let me say that I am very flattered you think enough of my work to put me there. I hope I won't disappoint you.