Chapter 4
Amabel's lesson and the unexpectedly easy reunion with her friends had a strong effect on Ceirin. She remembered the lucidity of her vision and the fact that she herself had called it forth, together with the almost bodily awareness of space-which-wasn't-space. She had always been envious of the sixth sense that elves seemed to possess. Many of them, like Legolas, owned a certain measure of telepathic abilities, and Elrond even had the gift of foresight. Ceirin was proud to have discovered at least a rudimentary beginning of her folk's own brand of magic, and guarded it fiercely from the elf. He would catch her sometimes, in the days to come, isolating herself from the others to try and reach out undisturbed with her own newly acquired sixth sense. She would stand with eyes closed, feet planted firmly on the ground, trying to envision the invisible as if she were looking at it, as if she were there and everywhere.
"What are you doing?" he would ask, regarding her curiously.
"I'm just resting my eyes. Leave me alone," she would invariably answer.
No new visions presented themselves, and Ceirin started wondering what she was doing wrong. But all the same, she would not be disheartened and kept on trying.
Legolas seemed to have warmed up to her a bit, finally, after her selfless stunt a few days before. He started engaging her in conversation, asking her for her opinion on things, showing concern for how she was.
"This is the first time for you to be away from Rivendel, isn't it?" he asked her one evening as they all sat around a small, smoky fire.
"It is," she replied curtly.
"Do you miss it?"
His asking such a question bemused her for a moment, then she replied: "I think we all miss our home."
"Did you like living at Rivendel?"
She laughed a little. "It was a bit too full of elves for my taste." Gimli's moustache twitched when he heard this. Ceirin winked at him, making sure Legolas couldn't see. "But I liked it well enough," she continued. "It was peaceful."
He nodded at her, returned to staring into the fire.
"What is Mirkwood like?" she asked him then, tilting her head to look past Boromir who sat between them and had just bent forward to rearrange the laces on his boot, a sincere question in her eyes.
It was Legolas' turn to look a little bemused. He fixed his moonlit eyes on the fairy, before slowly unfurling a broad smile. Ceirin had previously thought him just short of handsome. He had well-formed features, but she found his face too even, too serious. This new expression pleased her much more.
"At the risk of being accused of prejudice," he began, "I must say that of all the elven realms, there is none so beautiful as Mirkwood." He told the Fellowship of all the enchantments of his father's kingdom, and with every detail he related, his face became more animated.
Ceirin couldn't help but smile to herself. She looked around the campfire to see the others equally enthralled. Aragorn, who sat exactly downwind of the fire, had stopped bothering to wave away the smoke. The hobbits sat with heads tilted and mouths hanging open. Gimli looked a bit sceptical at all this elven fancifulness, but even he kept silent.
Legolas ended his description abruptly. "Now, tell us of the Shire," he said to the hobbits.
Pippin was the first to shake off the elf's spell. "Which do you want to hear about first," he said with a mischievous grin, "the girls, the ale..."
"... or the food?" Merry finished for him.
They all laughed, as the hobbits set out to take them on a tour through the Shire, taking over from each other whenever they thought of another juicy joke or lively anecdote. The four hobbits turned out to be magnificent entertainers. Boromir's mouth was a scream of laughter. Tears were streaming down Gimli's cheeks. Even Legolas frequently doubled over, clutching his stomach.
They'd listened to tales of the Shire for a full hour and Ceirin's sides were hurting from laughing so much, when Gandalf interrupted, wiping away some tears with the back of his hand and swallowing back a last chuckle. "Oh, my friends," he said, still a bit breathless. "I think we were all in need of an evening spent in this agreeable manner. Nothing like it to remind us all of why we are on this quest in the first place, what we are seeking to save. But the pass of Caradhras awaits to be conquered in a week or so, if our luck holds up, and we shall need our strength. Let us lay down to rest, shall we?"
They all began scrambling about to find a comfortable spot near the fire. Ceirin remained motionless a few moments longer, savouring the cosy atmosphere they had created together, the ten of them. She looked sideways at Legolas, who had also remained as he sat, arms locked around drawn-up knees, head back, eyes closed and a beatific smile on his face.
As if he could feel her eyes on him, he looked up to meet them. Neither smiled. Neither looked away to break the moment.
Pippin did that.
"Here's a spot for you," he said, tugging on Ceirin's sleeve and pointing at the space next to him.
"Thanks, Pip," she told him.
When she looked back toward Legolas, he was getting up to go and install himself on slightly higher ground to keep watch. She wasn't sorry. His gaze had made her uncomfortable. He had susrprised her that evening. But he was still an elf. And she was still a fairy. An unlikely friendship, at best.
A/N: A short chapter, but the point of chapters is to divide what could be unwholesomely longwinded into digestible bits. Chew on this.
Amabel's lesson and the unexpectedly easy reunion with her friends had a strong effect on Ceirin. She remembered the lucidity of her vision and the fact that she herself had called it forth, together with the almost bodily awareness of space-which-wasn't-space. She had always been envious of the sixth sense that elves seemed to possess. Many of them, like Legolas, owned a certain measure of telepathic abilities, and Elrond even had the gift of foresight. Ceirin was proud to have discovered at least a rudimentary beginning of her folk's own brand of magic, and guarded it fiercely from the elf. He would catch her sometimes, in the days to come, isolating herself from the others to try and reach out undisturbed with her own newly acquired sixth sense. She would stand with eyes closed, feet planted firmly on the ground, trying to envision the invisible as if she were looking at it, as if she were there and everywhere.
"What are you doing?" he would ask, regarding her curiously.
"I'm just resting my eyes. Leave me alone," she would invariably answer.
No new visions presented themselves, and Ceirin started wondering what she was doing wrong. But all the same, she would not be disheartened and kept on trying.
Legolas seemed to have warmed up to her a bit, finally, after her selfless stunt a few days before. He started engaging her in conversation, asking her for her opinion on things, showing concern for how she was.
"This is the first time for you to be away from Rivendel, isn't it?" he asked her one evening as they all sat around a small, smoky fire.
"It is," she replied curtly.
"Do you miss it?"
His asking such a question bemused her for a moment, then she replied: "I think we all miss our home."
"Did you like living at Rivendel?"
She laughed a little. "It was a bit too full of elves for my taste." Gimli's moustache twitched when he heard this. Ceirin winked at him, making sure Legolas couldn't see. "But I liked it well enough," she continued. "It was peaceful."
He nodded at her, returned to staring into the fire.
"What is Mirkwood like?" she asked him then, tilting her head to look past Boromir who sat between them and had just bent forward to rearrange the laces on his boot, a sincere question in her eyes.
It was Legolas' turn to look a little bemused. He fixed his moonlit eyes on the fairy, before slowly unfurling a broad smile. Ceirin had previously thought him just short of handsome. He had well-formed features, but she found his face too even, too serious. This new expression pleased her much more.
"At the risk of being accused of prejudice," he began, "I must say that of all the elven realms, there is none so beautiful as Mirkwood." He told the Fellowship of all the enchantments of his father's kingdom, and with every detail he related, his face became more animated.
Ceirin couldn't help but smile to herself. She looked around the campfire to see the others equally enthralled. Aragorn, who sat exactly downwind of the fire, had stopped bothering to wave away the smoke. The hobbits sat with heads tilted and mouths hanging open. Gimli looked a bit sceptical at all this elven fancifulness, but even he kept silent.
Legolas ended his description abruptly. "Now, tell us of the Shire," he said to the hobbits.
Pippin was the first to shake off the elf's spell. "Which do you want to hear about first," he said with a mischievous grin, "the girls, the ale..."
"... or the food?" Merry finished for him.
They all laughed, as the hobbits set out to take them on a tour through the Shire, taking over from each other whenever they thought of another juicy joke or lively anecdote. The four hobbits turned out to be magnificent entertainers. Boromir's mouth was a scream of laughter. Tears were streaming down Gimli's cheeks. Even Legolas frequently doubled over, clutching his stomach.
They'd listened to tales of the Shire for a full hour and Ceirin's sides were hurting from laughing so much, when Gandalf interrupted, wiping away some tears with the back of his hand and swallowing back a last chuckle. "Oh, my friends," he said, still a bit breathless. "I think we were all in need of an evening spent in this agreeable manner. Nothing like it to remind us all of why we are on this quest in the first place, what we are seeking to save. But the pass of Caradhras awaits to be conquered in a week or so, if our luck holds up, and we shall need our strength. Let us lay down to rest, shall we?"
They all began scrambling about to find a comfortable spot near the fire. Ceirin remained motionless a few moments longer, savouring the cosy atmosphere they had created together, the ten of them. She looked sideways at Legolas, who had also remained as he sat, arms locked around drawn-up knees, head back, eyes closed and a beatific smile on his face.
As if he could feel her eyes on him, he looked up to meet them. Neither smiled. Neither looked away to break the moment.
Pippin did that.
"Here's a spot for you," he said, tugging on Ceirin's sleeve and pointing at the space next to him.
"Thanks, Pip," she told him.
When she looked back toward Legolas, he was getting up to go and install himself on slightly higher ground to keep watch. She wasn't sorry. His gaze had made her uncomfortable. He had susrprised her that evening. But he was still an elf. And she was still a fairy. An unlikely friendship, at best.
A/N: A short chapter, but the point of chapters is to divide what could be unwholesomely longwinded into digestible bits. Chew on this.