Disclaimer: See Chapter One
Thanks to all who are sticking with this, I'm having a lot of fun working on it. There should be more action coming up soon, I hope you like it!!
* * * * * *
Chapter 7: Storm Clouds
Moraelin worked her way down the street, Rock prancing a little, so eager was he to get out of town. As Legolas rode up beside her, Moraelin did not look at him, but simply said, "There is a way through the mountains that not many know. It will save us several days compared to taking High Pass. But, we must cross a canyon that has mudslides in the spring. It is possible we will still have to turn back and take the Beorning's pass."
Legolas nodded thoughtfully, "I suppose you know these lands well. You have stayed here long?"
"Several years," Moraelin replied, squinting at the horizon as the sun broke over the mountaintops, "I like it here. It is simple, constant. Change comes very slowly here."
She finally glanced over at Legolas, "You did not meet any trouble on your way?"
"Trouble?" Legolas asked with a frown.
Moraelin's face darkened, "All change comes more slowly here, including change for the better. Though creatures of darkness have been destroyed in most realms, there are orcs and wargs that still wander in these valleys. They are without leadership and roam aimlessly, but they are no less dangerous for it. That is why some Rangers still linger here, they do not want to leave these people defenseless."
They were silent, until a wistful smile crossed Moraelin's lips, "The Dunedain are an incredible people. It does my heart good to see them receiving the respect they deserve. Since Aragorn came to power, the farmers of this valley have finally seen the Rangers in their true light. They have waited overlong to escape suspicion and disdain."
"You have known Aldruid long?" Legolas asked, trying not to seem especially interested.
Moraelin laughed softly, "Since he was but a raw young warrior. Estel as well."
Legolas glanced over at her in surprise, "You know Aragorn?"
"Yes, I," she paused, clearing her throat, "I stayed in Rivendell for a time. I got to know him then."
Legolas frowned, thinking back to Elrohir's earlier words. She had been injured and brought to Elrond's home, and he wondered what had happened. The rigid set of her face made it clear that she did not wish to speak of it further.
Moraelin could feel Legolas's eyes on her and stared determinedly forward, slightly unnerved by his attention.
"Whose idea was it to attack the Dwarves?" Moraelin asked.
Legolas opened his mouth for a stunned second, the directness of her question surprising him. "Talendil. Father and the Council were furious when word reached them about what he had done."
"You're sure your father had nothing to do with it? He has no great love for Dwarves."
"Father was as surprised as anyone else," Legolas insisted, but the smirk on Moraelin's face showed she was not convinced.
"What makes you think I will be of any help? There is no reason for anyone to listen to me, not your father or the Dwarves." Moraelin looked at him, her face blank as she stated, "I am no one."
"You share the blood of both sides, which is more than any of us can claim. And, your grandfather is a powerful Dwarf chieftain."
"He is a chieftain, yes. Of a very humble settlement in the Grey Mountains. He is respected in his own realm, but he is not from a high bloodline." She sighed lightly, "You have to understand, Legolas, my people have been expelled from every place they've ever settled. For centuries they have wandered, unable to get a foothold somewhere that they might try to rebuild a great city like those of old. Power, respect, can be very fleeting things for our leaders, and are held only so long as one is strong enough to defend them. Change is coming though. I have heard about the renewal of Erebor, and the Dwarves settling in the Glittering Caves. Rumors had reached us of Dwarves in the Mountains of Mirkwood. I had wondered how you father would react to that."
"He was not pleased," Legolas replied hesitantly, "but he did not order the attack."
Moraelin studied the battered leather of her reins and smiled acerbically to herself, "Did it ever occur to you that you will take me back to a land that hates me only to find that there is nothing I can do to help you?"
"No," Legolas said, his confidence unwavering as he met her eyes, "You will do well, I am sure."
Moraelin chuckled, lifting an eyebrow in amazement. With a shake of her head she replied, "Well, as long as you're sure. Who am I to argue?"
"My thoughts exactly," Legolas replied with a haughty twist of his lips.
Moraelin felt her face soften, knowing that his arrogance was an act put on purely for her amusement. She bent to rub Rock's neck briskly, "Elves and their fool ideas, eh Rocky? I'll never understand them."
* * * *
A quiet had settled over the pair for a few hours as they crossed the wide valley. Only the creaking of their saddles and the cries of birds overhead broke into their silent musings. Several times that morning, Moraelin resisted the urge to twist around and look at the village once more. She did not know what it was she feared leaving behind, the comforting regularity of Dreary Vale, or the presence of Aldruid and the rest of her friends at her side. She knew that both losses weighed heavily in her heart. Part of her wanted to turn her horse around now and go back, before it was too late and she was miles into the mountains with this elf she barely knew.
And yet, she knew him, she knew him as well as she knew herself. At least, she knew him as he had once been, when he was an eager young fighter impatient for his first taste of adulthood. How he had dreamed of gaining reknown, becoming great in the eyes of all the realms. Talendil had harbored a similar hope, but somehow his vision was darker, more ruthless. It was the bright idealism with which Legolas imagined his future glory that had always drawn Moraelin in. He had told her of those dreams for years, never doubting they would come true. It would appear he had gotten his wish, his name was uttered in all corners of Middle Earth. But, as she watched his slim form swaying easily in the saddle out of the corner of one dark eye, she wondered if getting his dream had been as sweet as he had so desperately imagined. If there was one thing she had learned during her difficult life, it was that nothing came without a price.
The farms had thinned out as they neared the canyon at the far end of the plain, and Legolas watched closely the trees and low shrubs along the stream. He was more wary after hearing Moraelin talk of fell beasts still lurking in these lands, and knew that the narrow canyon would be an ideal place for an ambush. For the past few years, there had been no one to fight, no spiders in the depths of the forest, no goblins in the caves. Legolas wondered if he might have gone soft in this time. He practiced with his bow nearly every morning, but it seemed the most dangerous weapon he had wielded of late was a hammer.
The high walls of the canyon soon rose on either side of them, but did not block out the sun. A heavy bank of clouds had already obscured its rays. Moraelin looked up to the sky with narrowed eyes, but said nothing. The dark clouds thickened as they rode on, and the air turned strangely still. The quiet was broken as Rock grunted, stopping to paw the ground and toss his head unhappily. Moraelin sat up very straight in the saddle, and to Legolas's astonishment, began sniffing the air like a beast of the forest.
"Orcs," she said, settling back, "And they're close. Come on."
She kicked Rock's sides and he gladly galloped up a slight hillside to a cluster of large stones in front of the sheer rock of the canyon wall. Legolas followed, the eyes of his own horse now wide and wild. It would appear Embryn could smell it too, although Legolas's nose read nothing abnormal on the air. He dismounted and pulled Embryn out of sight. He saw Moraelin had already led Rock behind the protective screen of boulders and was rubbing his face gently, murmuring to him in a strange tongue,
"Arac nul casal. Nul canash merik. Nul canash."
"What do you say to him?" Legolas whispered.
"Just gibberish in Southron. I picked up a little of it in my travels. The sound of that language seems to soothe him, I don't know why."
Legolas bit back a snide comment about the calming effect one of the dark tongues had on the ornery steed, instead glancing around the rock to watch for their mysterious enemy.
"Do you see them," Moraelin asked softly.
Legolas strained his eyes down the length of the ravine, and soon spotted a small force of about a dozen orcs coming around a bend. They truly were the most bedraggled orcs he'd ever laid eyes on, surely stragglers that had run from the larger battles that had raged years before. He nodded shortly at Moraelin, and saw that she also peeked around the rocks to watch them. Her eyes hardened as she saw the creatures, a light of mild madness shining in their depths. He watched as her hands convulsed on the rough surface of the stone, her nails grating lightly along it. His brow knitted and he wondered at her reaction. His head shot back around suddenly as she growled, "They have smelled us. We cannot stay here, we might be trapped."
Legolas heard a harsh cry cut through the air, and the orcs started up the incline at a run with ugly, bow-legged strides. He sensed a blur of motion beside him, and before he could stop her, Moraelin had leapt from behind the stones and onto Rock's back. The stocky animal thundered down the hillside toward the orcs, thick clods of dirt thrown into the air by his hooves. "Moraelin, no," Legolas groaned as he scrambled to the top of the boulder. Trying to calm a heart that beat along with the rapid slamming of hooves, he sent his arrows flying toward the orcs, hoping to pick off as many as possible before his unhinged companion reached them. He could not believe Moraelin dared take on so many alone, but as she drew the large battle-axe from her back, the sun broke free from its veil of clouds. The pure light glinted off the finely polished metal of the weapon as Moraelin gripped the sides of her horse with her legs so she could swing with both arms. Legolas could not deny that she did look formidable.
Four orcs lay dead already, white fletched arrows protruding from their bodies as Moraelin and her horse reached them. They cut a wide swath through the group, horse and rider working with a coordination clearly developed over many years. Legolas lowered his arm, he dared not shoot with her in their midst. He could faintly hear her calling out what he could only assume were profanities in Southron. She had hewed down several of her foes before she was grabbed by the leg and torn from her horse's back. She landed hard facedown and skidded through the mud.
Legolas gasped, nocking again and trying to pick a target. He hesitated as he saw Moraelin regain her feet. She turned to the handful of orcs that remained, and to his horror, she walked calmly toward them. For a moment, her stride quickened, and the pair of small tomahawks at her belt appeared in her hands. She was just out of range of their swords when she jumped in the air. She hooked the twin axes on a tree limb above her and swung over it, executing a couple of quick flips in the air that landed her directly behind the orcs. Her axes flashed with calm precision, beheading two before they had time even to turn around. She stopped, her eyes widening in surprise as the remaining orcs dropped dead at her feet in quick succession. She looked beyond them to where Legolas still stood, tall, deadly, his bow held firmly in his hand. She lifted her arm in thanks, her chest heaving with exertion, and a smile cracked her face. Legolas nodded once, leaping lightly to the ground. Moraelin watched him for another moment as he hurried down the hillside to her. He was so graceful, he made everything he did seem effortless and beautiful. She gritted her teeth as she wiped a few stray drops of dark orc blood from her cheek with a muddy hand, which only left her face dirtier. She did not like to think of how uncouth and filthy she must look next to him.
She reached down to tear one of Legolas's arrows out of the chest of a dead orc beside her. For a moment everything around her seemed to drop away, Legolas, the approaching storm, the very act of breathing were forgotten. A pair of glazed, yellow eyes gazed back up at her. Even in the clutch of death, they taunted her, laughed at her as they once had. She let go of the arrow, and lifted a hand to the curve of her jaw, feeling the small knot of bone left by a badly healed break. Legolas's voice drew her out of her stupor, "Moraelin, you should not have gone ahead without me."
She said nothing, but bent again to retrieve his arrow. She very carefully avoided the orc's empty eyes. Moraelin twisted the arrowhead from its body and handed the arrow to Legolas. Approaching another corpse, she said quietly, "There was no time. I could take care of them."
"I do not doubt that, but I hope we can learn to work together on this journey."
Moraelin handed him another arrow, finally lifting her eyes to his. "You're right. I am sorry. Thank you for your help, I see you are still the best shot in Middle Earth."
He grinned evenly, "I do what I can. But, you . . . where did you learn to do that flip? That was quite impressive."
She turned away to scan the scattered boulders and alder brush for her horse. "It was one of our old dance flips, don't you remember? I bet your new partner can't do that one as well as I can."
"It is isn't it?" Legolas said with a chuckle. He sobered quickly, a glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes, "Moraelin," he waited patiently until she looked at him, "There is no other partner. After you left, I never danced again."
Her lips parted in surprise, and she looked to the ground quickly. She knew not what to say, and was relieved as Rock trotted up to her, breaking the sudden tension.
"You clumsy brute, how could you let me get pulled down like that," she scolded the horse lightly, "We're supposed to watch out for each other." She buried a hand in his mane and pressed her forehead against his, "Ah, it's all right Rocky, just don't let it happen again."
Legolas could not stop the fond smile that crossed his face as he watched the affection she bestowed on the hideous horse. Only Moraelin could see the good in such a creature. But, the smile faded as he watched Moraelin's scarred hands. Her fingers were trembling terribly, clutching weakly at the stringy hair of Rock's mane. He noticed for the first time that a few of her fingers were bent in strange places, and old wounds covered them. But, these scars seemed unimportant compared to the shaking of her body.
"Moraelin," he whispered in concern, taking a step toward her.
"We should get going, there could be more nearby. We would do well to avoid them." Moraelin's voice was carefully controlled as she steered the conversation away from herself.
Legolas nodded reluctantly, loping up the hill to fetch his horse. When she was sure he was out of earshot, Moraelin leaned heavily on Rock again. She fought to stop the tremors that racked her body, to control the churning of fury and terror in her mind.
"After all this time, Rocky, I shouldn't react like this. What happened is in the past. But I can feel that one looking at me, even in death. And the smell of them is so strong I want to wretch. It bothers you too, doesn't it?" She stared into his small brown eyes, and in them perceived an intelligence that no one else bothered to look for. The horse nickered and rubbed his nose lightly against her shoulder.
"What would I do without you, eh?" she whispered, "As long as we stick together, they can't hurt us anymore, right old friend?"
Moraelin quieted as Legolas and Embryn galloped up to them. Legolas reined the horse in and waited patiently for her to join them. A gust of wind blew down from the mountains and whistled through the canyon, a mournful sound like the cry of the grieving. A piece of Legolas's pale hair was whipped into his face and Moraelin looked woefully at the blackened sky again. Even nature itself seemed intent on stopping the pair when they had just barely begun. Moraelin swung into the saddle and drove Rock on, hoping to outrun the storm and also to put as much distance as possible between herself and the disturbing, familiar eyes of the orc.
Thanks to all who are sticking with this, I'm having a lot of fun working on it. There should be more action coming up soon, I hope you like it!!
* * * * * *
Chapter 7: Storm Clouds
Moraelin worked her way down the street, Rock prancing a little, so eager was he to get out of town. As Legolas rode up beside her, Moraelin did not look at him, but simply said, "There is a way through the mountains that not many know. It will save us several days compared to taking High Pass. But, we must cross a canyon that has mudslides in the spring. It is possible we will still have to turn back and take the Beorning's pass."
Legolas nodded thoughtfully, "I suppose you know these lands well. You have stayed here long?"
"Several years," Moraelin replied, squinting at the horizon as the sun broke over the mountaintops, "I like it here. It is simple, constant. Change comes very slowly here."
She finally glanced over at Legolas, "You did not meet any trouble on your way?"
"Trouble?" Legolas asked with a frown.
Moraelin's face darkened, "All change comes more slowly here, including change for the better. Though creatures of darkness have been destroyed in most realms, there are orcs and wargs that still wander in these valleys. They are without leadership and roam aimlessly, but they are no less dangerous for it. That is why some Rangers still linger here, they do not want to leave these people defenseless."
They were silent, until a wistful smile crossed Moraelin's lips, "The Dunedain are an incredible people. It does my heart good to see them receiving the respect they deserve. Since Aragorn came to power, the farmers of this valley have finally seen the Rangers in their true light. They have waited overlong to escape suspicion and disdain."
"You have known Aldruid long?" Legolas asked, trying not to seem especially interested.
Moraelin laughed softly, "Since he was but a raw young warrior. Estel as well."
Legolas glanced over at her in surprise, "You know Aragorn?"
"Yes, I," she paused, clearing her throat, "I stayed in Rivendell for a time. I got to know him then."
Legolas frowned, thinking back to Elrohir's earlier words. She had been injured and brought to Elrond's home, and he wondered what had happened. The rigid set of her face made it clear that she did not wish to speak of it further.
Moraelin could feel Legolas's eyes on her and stared determinedly forward, slightly unnerved by his attention.
"Whose idea was it to attack the Dwarves?" Moraelin asked.
Legolas opened his mouth for a stunned second, the directness of her question surprising him. "Talendil. Father and the Council were furious when word reached them about what he had done."
"You're sure your father had nothing to do with it? He has no great love for Dwarves."
"Father was as surprised as anyone else," Legolas insisted, but the smirk on Moraelin's face showed she was not convinced.
"What makes you think I will be of any help? There is no reason for anyone to listen to me, not your father or the Dwarves." Moraelin looked at him, her face blank as she stated, "I am no one."
"You share the blood of both sides, which is more than any of us can claim. And, your grandfather is a powerful Dwarf chieftain."
"He is a chieftain, yes. Of a very humble settlement in the Grey Mountains. He is respected in his own realm, but he is not from a high bloodline." She sighed lightly, "You have to understand, Legolas, my people have been expelled from every place they've ever settled. For centuries they have wandered, unable to get a foothold somewhere that they might try to rebuild a great city like those of old. Power, respect, can be very fleeting things for our leaders, and are held only so long as one is strong enough to defend them. Change is coming though. I have heard about the renewal of Erebor, and the Dwarves settling in the Glittering Caves. Rumors had reached us of Dwarves in the Mountains of Mirkwood. I had wondered how you father would react to that."
"He was not pleased," Legolas replied hesitantly, "but he did not order the attack."
Moraelin studied the battered leather of her reins and smiled acerbically to herself, "Did it ever occur to you that you will take me back to a land that hates me only to find that there is nothing I can do to help you?"
"No," Legolas said, his confidence unwavering as he met her eyes, "You will do well, I am sure."
Moraelin chuckled, lifting an eyebrow in amazement. With a shake of her head she replied, "Well, as long as you're sure. Who am I to argue?"
"My thoughts exactly," Legolas replied with a haughty twist of his lips.
Moraelin felt her face soften, knowing that his arrogance was an act put on purely for her amusement. She bent to rub Rock's neck briskly, "Elves and their fool ideas, eh Rocky? I'll never understand them."
* * * *
A quiet had settled over the pair for a few hours as they crossed the wide valley. Only the creaking of their saddles and the cries of birds overhead broke into their silent musings. Several times that morning, Moraelin resisted the urge to twist around and look at the village once more. She did not know what it was she feared leaving behind, the comforting regularity of Dreary Vale, or the presence of Aldruid and the rest of her friends at her side. She knew that both losses weighed heavily in her heart. Part of her wanted to turn her horse around now and go back, before it was too late and she was miles into the mountains with this elf she barely knew.
And yet, she knew him, she knew him as well as she knew herself. At least, she knew him as he had once been, when he was an eager young fighter impatient for his first taste of adulthood. How he had dreamed of gaining reknown, becoming great in the eyes of all the realms. Talendil had harbored a similar hope, but somehow his vision was darker, more ruthless. It was the bright idealism with which Legolas imagined his future glory that had always drawn Moraelin in. He had told her of those dreams for years, never doubting they would come true. It would appear he had gotten his wish, his name was uttered in all corners of Middle Earth. But, as she watched his slim form swaying easily in the saddle out of the corner of one dark eye, she wondered if getting his dream had been as sweet as he had so desperately imagined. If there was one thing she had learned during her difficult life, it was that nothing came without a price.
The farms had thinned out as they neared the canyon at the far end of the plain, and Legolas watched closely the trees and low shrubs along the stream. He was more wary after hearing Moraelin talk of fell beasts still lurking in these lands, and knew that the narrow canyon would be an ideal place for an ambush. For the past few years, there had been no one to fight, no spiders in the depths of the forest, no goblins in the caves. Legolas wondered if he might have gone soft in this time. He practiced with his bow nearly every morning, but it seemed the most dangerous weapon he had wielded of late was a hammer.
The high walls of the canyon soon rose on either side of them, but did not block out the sun. A heavy bank of clouds had already obscured its rays. Moraelin looked up to the sky with narrowed eyes, but said nothing. The dark clouds thickened as they rode on, and the air turned strangely still. The quiet was broken as Rock grunted, stopping to paw the ground and toss his head unhappily. Moraelin sat up very straight in the saddle, and to Legolas's astonishment, began sniffing the air like a beast of the forest.
"Orcs," she said, settling back, "And they're close. Come on."
She kicked Rock's sides and he gladly galloped up a slight hillside to a cluster of large stones in front of the sheer rock of the canyon wall. Legolas followed, the eyes of his own horse now wide and wild. It would appear Embryn could smell it too, although Legolas's nose read nothing abnormal on the air. He dismounted and pulled Embryn out of sight. He saw Moraelin had already led Rock behind the protective screen of boulders and was rubbing his face gently, murmuring to him in a strange tongue,
"Arac nul casal. Nul canash merik. Nul canash."
"What do you say to him?" Legolas whispered.
"Just gibberish in Southron. I picked up a little of it in my travels. The sound of that language seems to soothe him, I don't know why."
Legolas bit back a snide comment about the calming effect one of the dark tongues had on the ornery steed, instead glancing around the rock to watch for their mysterious enemy.
"Do you see them," Moraelin asked softly.
Legolas strained his eyes down the length of the ravine, and soon spotted a small force of about a dozen orcs coming around a bend. They truly were the most bedraggled orcs he'd ever laid eyes on, surely stragglers that had run from the larger battles that had raged years before. He nodded shortly at Moraelin, and saw that she also peeked around the rocks to watch them. Her eyes hardened as she saw the creatures, a light of mild madness shining in their depths. He watched as her hands convulsed on the rough surface of the stone, her nails grating lightly along it. His brow knitted and he wondered at her reaction. His head shot back around suddenly as she growled, "They have smelled us. We cannot stay here, we might be trapped."
Legolas heard a harsh cry cut through the air, and the orcs started up the incline at a run with ugly, bow-legged strides. He sensed a blur of motion beside him, and before he could stop her, Moraelin had leapt from behind the stones and onto Rock's back. The stocky animal thundered down the hillside toward the orcs, thick clods of dirt thrown into the air by his hooves. "Moraelin, no," Legolas groaned as he scrambled to the top of the boulder. Trying to calm a heart that beat along with the rapid slamming of hooves, he sent his arrows flying toward the orcs, hoping to pick off as many as possible before his unhinged companion reached them. He could not believe Moraelin dared take on so many alone, but as she drew the large battle-axe from her back, the sun broke free from its veil of clouds. The pure light glinted off the finely polished metal of the weapon as Moraelin gripped the sides of her horse with her legs so she could swing with both arms. Legolas could not deny that she did look formidable.
Four orcs lay dead already, white fletched arrows protruding from their bodies as Moraelin and her horse reached them. They cut a wide swath through the group, horse and rider working with a coordination clearly developed over many years. Legolas lowered his arm, he dared not shoot with her in their midst. He could faintly hear her calling out what he could only assume were profanities in Southron. She had hewed down several of her foes before she was grabbed by the leg and torn from her horse's back. She landed hard facedown and skidded through the mud.
Legolas gasped, nocking again and trying to pick a target. He hesitated as he saw Moraelin regain her feet. She turned to the handful of orcs that remained, and to his horror, she walked calmly toward them. For a moment, her stride quickened, and the pair of small tomahawks at her belt appeared in her hands. She was just out of range of their swords when she jumped in the air. She hooked the twin axes on a tree limb above her and swung over it, executing a couple of quick flips in the air that landed her directly behind the orcs. Her axes flashed with calm precision, beheading two before they had time even to turn around. She stopped, her eyes widening in surprise as the remaining orcs dropped dead at her feet in quick succession. She looked beyond them to where Legolas still stood, tall, deadly, his bow held firmly in his hand. She lifted her arm in thanks, her chest heaving with exertion, and a smile cracked her face. Legolas nodded once, leaping lightly to the ground. Moraelin watched him for another moment as he hurried down the hillside to her. He was so graceful, he made everything he did seem effortless and beautiful. She gritted her teeth as she wiped a few stray drops of dark orc blood from her cheek with a muddy hand, which only left her face dirtier. She did not like to think of how uncouth and filthy she must look next to him.
She reached down to tear one of Legolas's arrows out of the chest of a dead orc beside her. For a moment everything around her seemed to drop away, Legolas, the approaching storm, the very act of breathing were forgotten. A pair of glazed, yellow eyes gazed back up at her. Even in the clutch of death, they taunted her, laughed at her as they once had. She let go of the arrow, and lifted a hand to the curve of her jaw, feeling the small knot of bone left by a badly healed break. Legolas's voice drew her out of her stupor, "Moraelin, you should not have gone ahead without me."
She said nothing, but bent again to retrieve his arrow. She very carefully avoided the orc's empty eyes. Moraelin twisted the arrowhead from its body and handed the arrow to Legolas. Approaching another corpse, she said quietly, "There was no time. I could take care of them."
"I do not doubt that, but I hope we can learn to work together on this journey."
Moraelin handed him another arrow, finally lifting her eyes to his. "You're right. I am sorry. Thank you for your help, I see you are still the best shot in Middle Earth."
He grinned evenly, "I do what I can. But, you . . . where did you learn to do that flip? That was quite impressive."
She turned away to scan the scattered boulders and alder brush for her horse. "It was one of our old dance flips, don't you remember? I bet your new partner can't do that one as well as I can."
"It is isn't it?" Legolas said with a chuckle. He sobered quickly, a glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes, "Moraelin," he waited patiently until she looked at him, "There is no other partner. After you left, I never danced again."
Her lips parted in surprise, and she looked to the ground quickly. She knew not what to say, and was relieved as Rock trotted up to her, breaking the sudden tension.
"You clumsy brute, how could you let me get pulled down like that," she scolded the horse lightly, "We're supposed to watch out for each other." She buried a hand in his mane and pressed her forehead against his, "Ah, it's all right Rocky, just don't let it happen again."
Legolas could not stop the fond smile that crossed his face as he watched the affection she bestowed on the hideous horse. Only Moraelin could see the good in such a creature. But, the smile faded as he watched Moraelin's scarred hands. Her fingers were trembling terribly, clutching weakly at the stringy hair of Rock's mane. He noticed for the first time that a few of her fingers were bent in strange places, and old wounds covered them. But, these scars seemed unimportant compared to the shaking of her body.
"Moraelin," he whispered in concern, taking a step toward her.
"We should get going, there could be more nearby. We would do well to avoid them." Moraelin's voice was carefully controlled as she steered the conversation away from herself.
Legolas nodded reluctantly, loping up the hill to fetch his horse. When she was sure he was out of earshot, Moraelin leaned heavily on Rock again. She fought to stop the tremors that racked her body, to control the churning of fury and terror in her mind.
"After all this time, Rocky, I shouldn't react like this. What happened is in the past. But I can feel that one looking at me, even in death. And the smell of them is so strong I want to wretch. It bothers you too, doesn't it?" She stared into his small brown eyes, and in them perceived an intelligence that no one else bothered to look for. The horse nickered and rubbed his nose lightly against her shoulder.
"What would I do without you, eh?" she whispered, "As long as we stick together, they can't hurt us anymore, right old friend?"
Moraelin quieted as Legolas and Embryn galloped up to them. Legolas reined the horse in and waited patiently for her to join them. A gust of wind blew down from the mountains and whistled through the canyon, a mournful sound like the cry of the grieving. A piece of Legolas's pale hair was whipped into his face and Moraelin looked woefully at the blackened sky again. Even nature itself seemed intent on stopping the pair when they had just barely begun. Moraelin swung into the saddle and drove Rock on, hoping to outrun the storm and also to put as much distance as possible between herself and the disturbing, familiar eyes of the orc.
