'…Nothing valued think no fear,
Always wondering why you're here,
All your purposes are gone,

Nothing's right and nothing's wrong,
Nothing ventured, nothing gained,
Feel no sorrow, feel no pain,
Kiss me while I'm still alive,
Kill me while I kiss the sky,
Let me die on my own terms,
Let me live and let me learn,
Now I'll follow my own way,

And I'll live on to another damn day,
Freedom carries sacrifice,
Remember when this was my life…'

"Life On My Own" 3 Doors Down

Chapter eleven: Musings

After their entourage had escorted them to a nearby trio of talans, the various group members had found a spot on the wooden floor and claimed it for their own. The hobbits, for their part, seemed to be more worried about how high up they were than their present situation. Frodo gazed at nothing in particular as he contemplated what the next few months would be like without Gandalf. The Ringbearer's thoughts were a mystery to his faithful companions as they sat dotted about the makeshift lodgings. The air around the forest was strange, thick and oddly humid with the dense blanket of mist that hung about the treetops. Small points of light glimmered in the distance, rays of moonlight filtered through the canopy of trees; even the trees radiated a sort of ethereal glow.

"'Tis almost like the great city of Rivendell in it's beauty." Boromir had commented earlier.

"It is no city." Yuna replied.

"What do you mean?"

"It is a house."

"A house? But…it is surely too large to be just a single house."

"It may be a particularly large house, but a house it is. And Elrond, contrary to popular human belief, is not a King. He is a Lord. That is why they call him Lord Elrond, and not 'Your Majesty' or other equally meaningless formalities. Besides, Kings have countries, not houses, to rule." Boromir simply furrowed his brow a little. "Don't tell me you thought otherwise."

"No, no, of course not…" He trailed off, slightly confused."

Yunalesca was bored. Her muscles had ached from the long walk, but now she was starting to wish for any kind of movement, as her legs had become strangely numb. The constant sitting still and waiting for morning was dragging on like a double Geography lesson, and she was beginning to ponder disturbingly strange topics, such as: if Dwarvish women had beards, did they also had hairy chests and the rest of it? Shifting uncomfortably and shuddering at the thought, she glanced around the rather crowded talan, Aragorn and Haldir were talking quietly in Elvish to one side. Her ears picked up the entire conversation, but she paid no heed to it. Sighing softly, she brought a partially gloved hand over her rather untidy bun, inwardly cringing at the horrendous condition of her hair. Not being able to wash properly for a good two months had certainly taken its toll.

'Of course,' She thought, glancing at the Prince of Greenwood the Great. 'He still smells faintly of lilies and honeysuckle, even after being in exactly the same conditions as them.' Her gaze drifted to the Dwarf and the Gondorian, as well as Aragorn as he stood, engrossed in his heated debate with Haldir. Humans, she surmised, attracted dust and filth like a prized DVD. It seemed to stick to them, and make their sweat glands work overtime. She wrinkled her nose slightly as she caught her own less-than-bearable odour. Forget this. I need a wash.' Since she had left Rivendell, the most she had done was wash her hands and face whenever she got a chance. The company didn't look as if they were planing on moving until the morning, and it wasn't as if she would get any sleep where she was, so she took advantage of the situation.

Boromir's head whipped up from yet another attempt at sleep as he heard Yuna rise from her spot. Adjusting her slightly crinkled outfit a little, she wasted no time in heading straight for the small rope ladder situated near the centre of the wooden platform.

"Where are you going?" The slightly edgy question that originated from the Ranger's lips only served to silence any hopes of a conversation between members and draw the attention to the strangely-garbed woman.

"If you must know, I simply felt that if I'm not going to do anything useful here, I might as well clean myself up. Besides," Her eyes rested on Legolas for a while, 'Amin holma ve' edan.' (I smell like a human) she added in Elvish to spare any aforementioned men that might be listening. She turned to the ladder once more, a triumphant spark in her eyes as she noticed the slight quirk at the corner of both Legolas and Haldir's lips.

"Be careful." Aragorn added, ignoring her comment. "Orcs are still around this area. Scouts are on the lookout, but be prepared nonetheless"

"Manka ai'nat' veryaya a'waane amin, ta caeluva amin a'gorguva." (If anything dares to disturb me, they will have me to fear) And with that her head disappeared from view. Although Boromir hadn't the slightest idea of what had just been said, he got the impression it wasn't thanks for the Ranger's concern. Elves, he decided, were strange creatures. Their personalities were too deep and hidden to be fathomed by mere humans. They always made sure their face remained entirely expressionless, not revealing any of their seldom-felt emotions. The elf in their party was no different, the most he could recall hearing from the blonde archer's lips was a sentence at the most. And even that was stretching it.

His thoughts shifted to their silver-haired companion. She didn't seem to care who knew what she was thinking. Her face and eyes showed how she felt as much as any humans, if she let it. He had wondered why she seemed so different, but put it down to his altogether limited knowledge of elves. He had, on occasion, heard Aragorn or Legolas refer to her as 'i'peredhil' (the half-elf), whatever that meant. Perhaps that had something to do with it? He pondered this for a moment, but the trail of thought was soon cropped off short as sleep claimed him.

Yunalesca was also pondering various things as she walked briskly through the trees. She had caught the look in Aragorn's eyes as she left the crowded talan. Instead of the usual annoyance mingled with mild anger she had come to expect, there was something else. Mirth, maybe? She had never meant it as a straight insult, just something to lighten the mood a little. The tension that had been built up between them could have been cut with a knife, or, in this case, a simple remark. True, she had forgiven him for the…incident a number of years ago, but that didn't mean she was willing to offer her friendship. 'Although, perhaps that will change in due course.' For a long time, her opinion of the man was that he was no more than a disillusioned human, convinced that he could ignore his destiny as long as he wished, live his life as an unwashed ranger, and yet still have the nerve to act as if he was better than those around him. But now…

Now her opinion had risen slightly. He was still willing to live his life as an unwashed ranger, but he seemed to hold a sort of respect for most things. As well as that, he had also proven himself able in the past few weeks. He was even trying to be civil to her, something she thought impossible for most of those she had crossed before. True, most she had crossed before were now unable to breathe or move, much less be civil, but that was an entirely different matter. Many held him in high regard, and were usually those that know him many times better than she. Among those was Elrond Halfelven, his judgement meant a lot to her. If he trusted Isildur's heir that much, then maybe, just maybe…

'And another thing, why did he even bother to warn me about the Orcs?' She thought, confused. 'It's not as if I'm a member of this 'Fellowship' of Elrond's. I'm just tagging along until we get to Lórien.' But wasn't she supposed to be their prisoner? She vaguely remembered being tied up and led along almost as if she was unable to escape at any given moment. Truth be told, she was now glad to have come along. No matter how she might have felt previously. When she returned to Fangorn, she would do so with her mind partially at ease.

Yuna switched her concentration to the miniature creek brimming with the waters of Nimrodel before her. Casually stripping down to a thin shift tied low about her waist in which a small knife was haphazardly thrust, she ventured into the centre of the small pool, which was surprisingly deep for something so little. She waded slowly through the hip-high water, not thinking about anything in particular. She noticed the slightly blood-soaked cloth still adorning her right arm and couldn't stop herself from smiling slightly. It had healed up remarkably well. The wound had closed well, and though it didn't look amazing, it felt a lot better. That was another thing to think about. Why had Aragorn helped her? She could remember his words clearly as he attempted to explain himself…

"For once just let someone help you. We have had our differences in the past, that I can not deny, but it does not have to remain so…You proved yourself in the mines and although it seems I have yet to fully prove myself to you, the least we could do is try to get along…I have no desire to see you die due to obstinacy."

Perhaps he was telling the truth. Perhaps he did want to be civil. Perhaps he just wanted to put the past behind them both…

Her hands went to the bun that was almost falling apart, and with the slight yank of a leather strap, it fell apart and trailed down her bare back in a loose braid. She brought this around to her front, and, humming something even she didn't recognise, undid it with very little effort. Her hair now reached the water's surface and a few inches beyond as it tumbled down in a tangled mess. Throwing the strap of oddly decorated leather in the general direction of a crumpled pile of clothes, she set about cleansing her dirt-encrusted skin.

"yrch!" Hissed a blonde head in Sindarin as he popped above the wooden platform for the best part of a second.

"The Orcs are upon us, at last." Haldir said quietly. "Do not fear, little ones." He added, noting the Hobbit's apprehensive faces. "We are more than able to deal with the foul creatures."

"And what about Yunalesca?" Pippin asked, his Shire accent shining through as he absentmindedly scanning the forest floor below, "Isn't she still out there?"

"I am sure she is more than able to take care of herself." Haldir replied, having first-hand experience of just how well she was able to hold her own.

"But she would be off-guard. What if she is unable to defend herself?" Boromir had woken once more, and surprised a few with his argument.

"I'm sure that would not happen." Aragorn shot back. "Besides, what would you have us do?"

"At the very least she should be warned of their presence."

"If she does not already know."

"Even so, she has helped us before, it is only right we do the same for her now." The man from Gondor persisted. Eventually, Aragorn sighed in defeat.

"If it is your wish to do so, you may track her down and warn her of the Orcs, but be prepared to face them yourself."

Boromir nodded as he rose, turning to leave just before he felt a slim hand on his shoulder.

"If you are to venture into the forest, might I suggest sending someone whom actually has some hope of finding their way back?" Haldir's voice was completely level, not in the least insulting, simply stating a fact.

"In that case, whom would you suggest? I'd hate to pull away one of your elves for something so trivial."

"I will go." The company turned to the Prince perched some distance from them. "I will get no rest tonight, and I still greatly desire to see more of the wood before we leave tomorrow." Boromir simply nodded. It was, after all, the logical choice. He could find his way there and back easily and quickly enough, and he could avoid the Orcs better than any of them. With that established, he adjusted the strap of his quiver slightly, before disappearing bellow the talan surface.

'Who was she?' That thought had plagued his mind time and time again as he struggled to regain control of his memory. She was…familiar somehow. And yet, he was sure one like her would not be forgotten easily. In all probability, he had more than likely seen her passing through Greenwood the Great at one time or another…he couldn't remember. He couldn't really care less either, but he had to try.

"You know, stop me if I'm wrong, but this doesn't seem like the real you. In my experience, Princes seem to embody the essence both of cockiness and egotistical greed. You on the other hand, don't seem to love the sound of your own voice, and, I do believe, haven't cracked a smile on the entire journey. Although this makes for a refreshing change, I can't help but doubt it's authenticity."

That conversation, however brief it had been, spoke volumes about her attitude toward the world in general. He hadn't realised the façade he had kept up throughout the journey until she had told him of it. And it was only now that he realised – much to his surprise – that she was right, every word. He had to hand it to her; she was a discerning woman if ever he met one. It was even more disconcerting that she had managed to determine so much about him in such a small time.

"Eternal life is eternal boredom. Someday you'll learn that immortality gives you nothing to live for."

That had made him think more than anything she had said. He had always looked upon his immortality as a gift, not something 'Unfortunate' as she had put it. Why did she feel this way, he wondered.

However…

After a life as long as hers, he could understand a wish for something other than the same daily routine. After all, the beauty of the Sunrise dims after a lifetime spent watching the same golden orb awake every morning. But did she really wish to have the short and almost painful life of an ordinary human?

That was something he couldn't fathom. How could anyone wish for that? His thoughts turned to Lord Elrond's brother, Elros. A half-elf like the Lord of Rivendell himself. Like Yunalesca. They had both chosen immortality, but Elros had chosen a mortal life. If she found her immortality so unfortunate, why did she not simply choose to live as a human? Or better yet, sail to the Undying lands and live out her days there? He would ask her later, he decided, as he followed the crystal waters of Nimrodel in hope of locating the half-elf that had tormented his thoughts.

'Orcs…' She had been fully aware of their presence a while beforehand, but had only registered it as something that might require her attention a few seconds ago. 'Never mind, I'll have enough notice to be prepared if they decide to attack me.' The loathsome creatures of Mordor were slightly less stealthy than a heard of Oliphants being ridden by Dwarves, and she wondered how they could ever surprise anyone, anywhere, ever. 'They will soon be taken care of in any case.' She wasn't about to let anything – not even the possibility of her bloody death – interrupt her first real wash in weeks.

He heard the soft sound of water being disturbed mildly in the distance as the river widened out slightly into a small estuary. His eyes rested briefly on the ripples gently caressing the bank and travelled upwards to see the cause. A small beacon of silver protruded slightly from the water's edge. This morphed into a head and finally the upper-half of the very same she-elf as she broke the surface, throwing her head back and allowing the mane of darkened hair to whip around in an overly dramatic movement. He froze. Her back was facing him, and she carried on, seemingly unaware of his presence as she shook out her roughly tangled hair behind her. It had dimmed to a light grey with the water and was dripping with moisture as it hung loosely about her bare back. Suddenly, she spun herself round to meet his gaze.

His face was a picture, painted by an artist with a very strange sense of humour.

He looked like a very small hedgehog caught in the impending doom of a sixteen-wheeler.

For an elf, he looked surprisingly…well…surprised.

"How long have you been standing there?" She wasn't angry, strange, she didn't even seem in the least embarrassed about the fact that she was currently flashing her entire top half to the Prince of Mirkwood. Instead, she seemed almost…was that mirth dancing in her eyes as the elf looked on, dumbfounded?

"I…I...I'm sorry!" He said, quickly turning around and shielding his eyes. She laughed in response.

"More to the point, what are you doing here?" Her arms folded over her chest in an entirely unselfconscious move.

"I…came to warn you…of the Orcs in the woods." Another oddity, why exactly was he stumbling over his sentences? For one of the first instances in a good millennia, words failed him.

"Oh…why? Aren't I old enough to look after myself?" She sounded genuinely surprised, but masked it well.

"The Humans said–"

"Ah, the Humans, never mind in that case. My thanks to you for warning me. I had best be getting back soon in any case."

He heard her move quietly out of the water to the discarded pile of clothes a few metres behind him and scolded himself for the un-princely thoughts that ran through his head.

"I shall take my leave to give you some privacy." He said, struggling to keep his voice as level and as normal as possible. She laughed slightly 'She saw right through that…' and with that he did, indeed, take his leave, walking briskly until he was out of sight and then moving quickly back to the talan, hoping not to have to face her at any point in the near future.

'What's wrong with them?' The woman thought as she critically examined her bare chest. 'They're not that bad.' Her human side had left her with a rather buxom figure as oppose to the stick-insect like non-existent curves of the elves. Her front was slightly better rounded in comparison to many of those she had met, and he hips and backside followed suite. The Elven beauties held a waif yet graceful air about them. Every one of them were stunning. Their eyes endless pools of shimmering colour, sorrowful and far away, their faces milky white and glowing with perfectly set features. Her thoughts flew to the Evenstar. It has been said that beauty was only skin-deep, but this was not so for Arwen, she was just as kind, courteous and loveable as she looked. Beauty is only skin deep. Bah. Sadly untrue. Yuna, for one, was tired of all the assumptions about beauty being only skin-deep. That was deep enough in her critical opinion. What did people want, an adorable pancreas? She sighed and steered her thoughts back to what had just occurred.

'It must have shocked him a little, I presume.' Some elves weren't as comfortable with the idea of nudity as others were. 'I suppose his father keeps him in a little box. Maybe that's why there were so many new and interesting shades of red colouring his face.' Either way she was anticipating getting back to the flet, just to see how long he could avoid eye contact with her. It was with this rather sadistically humorous thought that she made her way back to the talan, wringing out her dripping wet mane as she went.

It was about two minutes after Legolas had returned – looking slightly flushed, and still holding a reddish tinge about the points of his ears – that Yuna had climbed up the ladder with the efficiency of one that has spent far too much time in the company of trees. Legolas immediately tried to make himself scarce, hoping she wouldn't talk to him. After he heard her take a seat, he risked a glance in her general direction, glad for the fact her attention was diverted elsewhere.

Her hair was still wet and was clumped together in a slack braid and grouped into the messiest of buns. Her clothes appeared slightly damp in some places, but for the most part remained dry. She had kept her armour off and only wore the dark green top and brown leather leggings, which was strange considering the fact that she was well aware of the Orcs strewn about the forest.

Perhaps her human side had made her careless? No, he knew that couldn't be right, but the thought led onto an entirely different musing…

She was a Half-Elf.

They were few and far between as far as he knew, and only a fraction of those gained the Valar's gift of immortality, some were even rare enough to have the gift without even asking. He wondered how she had got to be immortal. If she was so set on heading into the West, and found her endless years boring and pointless…why did she not simply choose a mortal life long ago? He added it to the list.

It was early the next morning when the company was roused. Well, the Hobbits and the Dwarf anyway. As she noticed their still downcast faces, Yunalesca cursed herself for being so disrespectful the previous night. Respect was not usually one of her more avidly displayed traits, but she knew all too well the pain of loss, and berated herself further for being so careless. She mentally lowered her mood in accordance to how the rest of the company was feeling. She was one of the only travellers whom did not know Mithrandir personally, and so it was hard for her to feel too much grief after his passing.

As Yuna marched onwards, gaze firmly set on the ground, she failed to notice the company grind to a halt, sending her straight into the nearest person.

Legolas whipped around as the woman walked into his back, he tensed upon realising it was her. She grinned, sensing his discomfort, and dodged around him to see what the problem was.

Apparently, the Dwarf was strictly forbidden to pass any further without a blindfold. 'Stupid High Elves' she thought, 'What's he going to do to their precious mallorn trees? Look at them? Oh, no, we can't have that. A Dwarf looking at our mallorn trees? Preposterous! And yet, it's no trouble for him to look upon the Lady of Light herself…how strange…'

She wasn't really paying attention to the argument that broke out, but snapped back into reality when a young elf approached her cautiously with a blindfold. A few seconds passed.

"Can I help you?" She asked incredulously.

"Your eyes must be blinded, my Lady." Came the less-than-confident reply.

"Is that so? And why exactly should I?"

"It is the leader of the company's wish that the entire fellowship have their eyes blinded."

"That's nice. And why are you coming to me? Since when am I a member of this Fellowship? In fact, I seem to remember being a prisoner of some sorts…never mind. Rest assured I am not, and never have been, counted as a member of this company. Therefore, their leader bears no authority over me whatsoever. Run along, good sir, and trouble me no longer."

The elf – he couldn't have been more than a few hundred years – looked to his leader to support. Haldir gave her a much-practised version of The Look.

"Amin cael sinome nir' coiasiras n'ala, Haldir, amin il'ksh a'itaur, naamin?" I have been here many times before, Haldir, I'm not exactly a danger to the wood, am I? With a slight roll of his eyes, the captain of the guard signalled his yield with a wave of his hand.

And that was that.

A few glances were thrown her way over her lack of blindfold, but she ignored them with a finely-tuned state of 'I-don't-really-care-because-it's-you-not-me-so-auta-miqula-orqu' Go kiss an Orc. She was right though, and the fact that she knew this, and everyone else knew this but was still angry only made it all the more sweeter. She, a member of the fellowship. Ha! It wasn't like this a couple of centuries ago, back then children respected their elders. They didn't make silly assumptions like that. She laughed at herself, realising she was, indeed, growing old, too old to act as she did sometimes. But then she thought of Glorfindel, and such convictions were immediately forgotten.

For the following long hours, Yunalesca found a new source of entertainment in the soft curses escaping to company's lips as they stumbled upon a stray root or the thick underbrush.

A.N.

In response to some of the reviewers:

Who is the love interest? If this chapter doesn't act as a neon sign, we're afraid you'll just have to wait. (BTW, Boromir dies – i.e. It's not him – (whilst being an honourable non-rapist-like bloke – we thought about approaching a different point of view and not making him a bastard!), Aragorn loves Arwen, Eomer stole Legolas's hairstyle, Gandalf's old, Gimli's ugly, and Frodo and Sam are full of plactonic, brotherlylove for each other.)

Why is Yunalesca such a Mary-Sue? She's not supposed to be, the name doesn't mean anything (the closest translation is yulna which means a drink. 0o) we stole it off a Final Fantasy game. The scar is just to show she's not perfect and also has some relevance later on. The white/silver hair and bright green eyes will be a pretty big plot point later on. Her outfit was made up on some drunken Sunday when we had nothing better to do, much like a majority of the storyline…

What is the Aragorn thing? You'll find out soon enough.

How do you pronounce character's names? It doesn't really matter, and just to push it even further, we'll introduce more Canon-shattering original characters later on in the story.

Why are we such review-whores? Because reviews are nice and make you feel all warm, fuzzy and make you want to write more. Except flames, mindless flames will be used to cook a full-fat English breakfast to feed our muses.