There is quite a bit of Elvish in this story. It is a mixture of Sindarin and Grey Company. All of it should be italicized and the translations are in parenthesis just after the Elvish words. Phrases used frequently will only be translated once or twice.
"What's this I hear about some excitement last night, Aragorn?" Frodo asked over breakfast. Gimli had been grumbling about being woke from a pleasant dream to go watch Morithawen clean her knives of orc blood. Aragorn glanced across the fire at Morithawen and Legolas. They were deep in quiet conversation, of that he was certain, but their lips did not move and no sound came from their mouths. Aragorn was glad they had a way to communicate that couldn't be overheard or interrupted by the rest of the party. They were so recently betrothed but they did not have a chance to act out their courtship on this journey. It was too important to stay alert at all times and both elves were taking their jobs as the eyes and ears of the Fellowship very seriously.
"A pair of orc scouts, Frodo. Morithawen dealt with the threat quickly," he said. Frodo glanced over at the elves with a thoughtful expression.
"She looks so fragile, it is hard to think of her as a warrior," he said finally. Morithawen looked over at him with a wry smile before returning her eyes to Legolas, saying nothing aloud. Aragorn chuckled.
"Looks can be deceiving Frodo. Trust me, she is well prepared to face any attacks we might stumble into. She taught me much of what I know of weaponry, but even I have not mastered some of her talents. She can best me with a knife and with a bow," he said, bragging on his sister. She would never speak of her talents openly but he had no such qualms. His words caused a stir in the group however, especially from Boromir.
"Taught you?" he asked in surprise. Aragorn pinned Boromir with a glare.
"She has been my mentor in many things, Boromir. She is much older and wiser than you or I will ever be. She is the Kiirar, the Chronicler of Records. She has read about and recorded much of the history of Middle Earth. She has more knowledge than elves many times her age. She could probably tell you tales of your forefathers that even you do not know," Aragorn said sternly. Morithawen and Legolas both looked up from their silent conversation.
"Aragorn, this is not necessary," Morithawen said softly. Aragorn shook his head, looking from Boromir to his sister and back again.
"Yes, I think it is. It is dangerous for any in the Fellowship to doubt the abilities of his, or her, companions. Doubt causes worry and fear and we do not need more of that on this journey than the Ring itself can instill. We must all understand that we can count on one another in a fight. We must all learn that you are not a weak ally, muinthel. We must respect the ability of our friends to protect us when the need arises," he said firmly.
"That may be true, muindor, but I would not cause friction in the Fellowship. I must earn my respect, Estel. That will not come from words, but only with time," Morithawen said gently. There was silence around the fire for a moment before one of the hobbits, Merry, spoke up.
"Maybe you could show us, give us a demonstration of your skills. That would put many minds at ease, I am sure."
"We do not have time or need for an exhibition, Meriadoc. Hopefully the need will not arise for me to use my skills on this journey. Pray for a quiet quest," she said sternly. Boromir sat back with a smirk, casting a glance at Aragorn that clearly said had expected as much from the elf. Legolas, noticing this, put a hand on Morithawen's arm. She looked up at him in surprise.
"There is no pride in easing the minds of your companions, A'maelamin. Aragorn is right in that," Legolas said softly. Morithawen stood up, shaking off Legolas' arm.
"I am in the midst of a group of males that think of nothing but honor and action. Perhaps you are right and a demonstration would put you all at ease, but will not become a show for you all to watch," she said, the fire of irritation flashing in her eyes. Legolas stood with her, putting his hands on his shoulders and forcing her to look at him.
"You are correct in realizing that respect cannot be earned through words but only through actions. I agree that you should not make a spectacle of yourself, either. There is another option, however. Teach them. The hobbits are not schooled in the use of knives or swords or bows. Teach them enough to defend themselves and through the passing of knowledge they will see your skill," he said coaxingly. Morithawen looked at him for a long moment before she slipped from his hands and sat back down. Her sigh was deep and resigned.
"Perhaps you are right. If the hobbits wish, I will teach them to use a small knife and to throw them if they have the patience to learn. The swordplay I will leave to the Men," she said quietly. The hobbits all immediately expressed an interest and she nodded.
"When we stop for the day I will start. We have lingered here too long as it is, my friends. The sun moves swiftly and times slips through our fingers," she said, tossing a glance at the sky. The others quickly agreed and camp was quickly packed up and the journey began again.
"Are you angry with me, melamin?" asked Legolas in her mind as they followed a well worn path. He was taking up the rear guard while she was walking with Gandalf at the head of the column. She sighed softly.
"No, Legolas. You are right. Teaching the hobbits is a fine way to show them that I know my way around a blade without simply showing off. I only hope that Boromir takes heed of our sessions. It is mostly his mind that Aragorn wishes to ease. I love my foster brother, but he has the pride of a Man."
"Yes, but that pride is not in himself but in you. Is it so wrong for him to defend you to this human? You could best him with a flick of the wrist and yet he thinks you inferior."
"Boromir is full of pride and confidence, Legolas. To put myself above him would only cause more grief between us. I do not wish to prove myself a better warrior than he, only capable of defending what I care for."
"The task will be easier than you assume after last night. He saw that you were able to hold your own in the face of danger. Time will bring the respect you wish for, that I can assure you."
"I hope so, Legolas. We all have enough to worry about protecting the hobbits without Boromir thinking he must guard me as well."
"True. All will be well, Mori."
"I hope so. Now, I wanted to talk with you about Gimli. Really, Legolas, the two of you bicker like children. You are both part of this Fellowship. All this talk about learning to respect other beings makes me realize that we need to let Gimli earn his as well."
"He is a dwarf, Morithawen. They are dirty and stubborn and loud. His kind have no respect for the earth, the trees. He would just as soon cut down the mighty oak for firewood as to admire its beauty and its song," Legolas thought with a dark tone. Morithawen sighed again. If she had not foreseen the friendship that would develop between Legolas and Gimli she would have been distressed. She agreed with Legolas about the dwarves and their disrespect of nature, but one could not completely fault the dwarves. They were children of the earth, born under rock and stone. They did not perceive the forests and streams as the elves that lived among them did. She had read about the deterioration of the relationship between elves and dwarves through the ages and it saddened her.
"Do not judge Gimli by his fathers and forefathers. Give him a chance to show his worth, melamin. It might surprise you how quickly you become friends."
"Friends? With a dwarf?" asked Legolas in disbelief. Morithawen laughed softly both in her mind and aloud, causing Gandalf to look at her strangely and Boromir to stop in his tracks at the musical sound. Morithawen did not notice this and continued on her way. Gandalf dropped back to speak with Boromir as she took the lead of the Fellowship for a time.
"Your pride, melamin, needs to be tempered with a dose of humility. Under all that hair and the armor and the axes lies a valiant soul. He will both amuse you and surprise you, given the chance. Do not judge without giving him a chance, Legolas. Practice what you preach."
Legolas was quiet for a long time after that. Morithawen could only hope he was giving her words serious thought.
"Spies of Sarumon. The passage south is being watched," Gandalf said as Morithawen pulled herself out from under the rock she had chosen as her hiding place when the flock of crebain from Dunland had flown over. She felt a sense of foreboding sweep over her like a dark cloud when Gandalf turned and looked to the north. His next words made her stiffen.
"We must take the pass of the Caradhras."
Morithawen felt her heart sink in her chest. This would be a test for her, for she had not stepped foot on the Redhorn Pass since her childhood, even when it would have made her travel between Rivendell and Lorien easier. She always took the long way around. None that traveled with her had ever questioned her reasoning for they had always been either elves or Aragorn and all of those knew of her story. But now she had little choice but to face her fears.
"Morithawen? Are you well?" asked Frodo. The hobbit had noticed the subtle distress on her face and the sudden tenseness of her body. She managed a smile for him and nodded.
"I am well, Frodo. Do not trouble yourself. I am just worried about the weather atop Caradhras. If the mountain wakes, it could hinder us," she said quietly. Frodo looked concerned but she shook her head.
"Trust Gandalf and Aragorn. They will lead us over the pass if they can," she said. Frodo still looked uncertain but he finally nodded and the trek to the high mountain pass began. Legolas made it a point to stop beside her and make sure she was okay with the passage. She had quickly dismissed him to the rear guard with assurances that she was perfectly fine. She was glad Aragorn seemed to forget that Caradhras might disturb her. She was trembling inside as they began to encounter the first of the snowdrifts. Soon the mortals were struggling in snow to their knees. Morithawen turned back from her position near the front of the line to see Boromir standing still, holding up a chain that glinted in the sun. Her heart lurched with fear as she recognized the chain that Frodo wore about his neck with the One Ring on it. The small, golden band glinted in the sun.
"Tis a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing. So small a thing…" Boromir said quietly. Almost too quietly for even her elven ears to pick up. She exchanged a worried look with Gandalf.
"Boromir! Give the ring to Frodo," came a stern voice. Morithawen noticed Aragorn, standing beside Frodo with his hand on his sword. Boromir started violently at the voice, as if it shaken out of a trance. Very slowly, as if moving through water, he walked down and handed the ring to the hobbit. Morithawen relaxed, as did every other person in the Fellowship. They all turned their eyes back towards the mountain and moved forward once more. Morithawen thought about Boromir as she stepped lightly.
The warrior of Men did not doubt her ability to defend herself or those in the company anymore. Two lessons for the hobbits and a skirmish with two mountain trolls a week before had finally eased his fears. It was nice to be able to talk with him freely without fear of his derision. She actually enjoyed talking with him about his life and the developments in Gondor. She hadn't been there in over fifty years and he was animated when he spoke of his home. But she was worried about him. He was the only one in the Fellowship that seemed to dwell on the Ring and its power. She glanced back at him for a moment and nodded. She received a small smile in return. That eased her mind a little bit.
A few hours later, the wind was howling about her, whipping her braids about and driving the blinding snow into her eyes. She ducked her head a bit and looked back. She was padding over the snow with no trouble but her mortal companions were struggling along in snow up to their waists, or in the case of the hobbits to their necks. Aragorn and Boromir had picked up two hobbits each, helping them trudge through the snow as Gandalf walked before them, breaking a path with his staff. Behind the men was Gimli, struggling along with Bill the pony's lead rein in his hands. At the rear trod Legolas. On their left was a sheer rock wall and to their right, less than six feet from the wall, was a drop into space. Morithawen tended to walk as close to the middle of the path as possible.
"How do you fare, melamin?" Legolas asked in her mind, concern lacing his tone.
"I am well, Legolas. The Caradhras of my memory was dark and foreboding but there was no snow and no wind. It does not haunt so close," she said with relief obvious in her mental tone. Legolas chose that moment to move past the struggling mortals and walk by her side for a moment. He reached down and took her hand, entwining their fingers for a moment.
"Stay strong, melamin. Look at it this way. No orc will be in the midst of this storm," he said aloud over the howling wind. She squeezed his hand a moment before letting go and tilting her head and peering out into the storm. A deep voice seemed to penetrate the blasting snow, chanting in High Elven. She frowned deeply at the words, for it sounded as if someone was bidding the mountain under them to wake. Legolas let go of her hand and moved further out on the narrow path, peering out over the deep chasm.
"There is a fell voice on the air," he stated loudly enough that Gandalf could hear him.
"It's Saruman!" Gandalf exclaimed. Aragorn exclaimed that they needed to turn back but Gandalf was reluctant. Morithawen stepped back towards the rock wall as the wizard stepped up beside Legolas. She shuddered as Gandalf began chanting in counter to Saruman. The flash of lightning and the sound of the mountain rumbling above them made Morithawen look up. Her cry of warning made Legolas look up as well. When he saw the wall of snow and rock tumbling down, he reached out and grabbed Gandalf by his robes, pressing him against the rock wall just in time to duck under the blanket of snow and ice that came down on top of the Fellowship.
There was a moment of silence on the mountain side as the wind whipped across the heaps of snow and ice, no sign of movement obvious. The first sign of life was the head of Legolas as he pushed himself free of the prison of snow. He quickly dug himself out and went to help the men unbury the hobbits and the dwarf.
"We must make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir was saying to Gandalf. Aragorn jumped in with an argument.
"That would take us too close to Isengard."
"If we cannot go over the mountain, then let us go under it. Let us go through the Mines of Moria," interjected the dwarf. Legolas, who had just pulled him up out of the snow, looked over at Gandalf and saw what he thought might be fear in the old wizard's eyes. Why would the thought of going through the mines cause him fear? Legolas thought that the unfriendly mountain suddenly seemed a little less foreboding.
"We cannot stay here. This will be the death of the hobbits," Boromir said in desperation as he pulled Merry and Pippin up against him. Legolas spared a concerned glance for the shivering, blue tinged halflings before he noticed that someone in the party hadn't made an appearance above the snow.
"Morithawen?" he cried, moving to the place where she had last been and shoving aside armloads of snow. The snow was piled a little higher here than the rest of the path and he had to dig deep before he found the tip of her bow. He soon found himself helped by many other hands as they dug out the female elf. Legolas laid her on the snow as the others backed away, running his hands over her face and through her hair. For a moment, he imagined that her skin was cold and her light dimmed. It caused a moment of panic in him that he forced down. Almost immediately, her eyes flew open and they were dark burnt caramel with fear and panic and she began to babble in elvish about the evil mountain and the dark and the loneliness beneath the snow. Legolas pulled her close and whispered gentle comfort until she calmed. It only took her a few moments to recover her usual composure and she sat up out of his arms, looking a little ashamed by her outburst.
"Let the Ringbearer decide which direction we take," Gandalf was saying as the others in the party quickly refocused on their dilemma, not giving Morithawen time to dwell on her small lapse in Elven calm.
"We will go through the mines," Frodo said after a moment, actually sounding sure of his decision. She was not at all pleased with the decision. Her urge was to leave them all there and run across the snow to Lorien. Without the hobbits and Men to slow her down, she knew she could make it. But it was only a fleeting thought, driven by her fear of the Mines. She had visited Moria once in her long life, with an older Elf that claimed it to be a good way to get across the mountains quickly. They had reached the doors, only to be thwarted because her companion hadn't known the password to open the silent stone doors. She had been glad. Four days in the dark, surrounded by stone, would likely break her. She couldn't sit for a full two days in the palace at Mirkwood without running for the trees. But she would be forced to endure the test, for she now knew that Moria was where her foresight had lead her, where she must help defend the life of her betrothed and quite possibly the lives of the rest of the Fellowship.
To be continued...