Aragorn watched the girl leading them through the forest. She hadn't spoken to them since she took them into Fangorn. He didn't know what to think of her. The faerie people had been thought to be man's imagination, an explanation for the strange things lurking in the wood. She was quite beautiful. Her hair was black and straight to her shoulders, although in the little patches of sunlight that occasionally shone through the trees her hair looked dark green. Her skin was almost sheet white and glittered in the darkness of Fangorn. She wore a thin, skintight tunic of green that went a few inches above her knees. Her entire body was long and slender, but her arms and legs were very muscled. Her boots were ankle length and seemed to be made out of cloth and. Her face was doll-like. Tiny features with rosy cheeks, large brown eyes, and pale pink lips along with her diminutive figure made her seem unfit for a place as strange and dangerous as these forests. The most astounding thing about her was her wings. The back of her tunic had been cut out, and two shining, transparent wings protruded from her spin. They were maybe 5 feet in length and 6 in width. She didn't look more than fourteen years old. In her right hand she clutched a tiny wooden flute, holding it almost as if she meant to break it in half, and on her left shoulder was a small velvet bag. He decided to ask her a few questions.
"Where are you taking us?" he demanded, moving up so that he and Legolas were on either side of her. Gimli walked behind him with his axe ready.
"I told you. I am taking you to the faerie keep. I don't know exactly where your friends, these hobbits-" she said, pronouncing the word as if it were foreign to her. From the look of confusion on her face, it probably was, "-have been taken, so I will have to ask my brother where they are taken," she replied with a shaking voice. She didn't look up when she finished. Aragorn sighed. They had scared her so much that she was afraid to answer their questions.
"You should not be afraid of us, little one," he said gently. She stopped suddenly and looked up at him, her brown eyes shining with anger.
"I tried to help you! I wanted to help you find your friends, and you treat me like a prisoner, pointing your weapons at me and ordering me around!" she yelled. The three men were taken by surprise by her outburst. Aragorn sighed.
"You are right. Gimli put down your axe," he ordered. Gimli lowered his weapon; "We have not treated you with respect. But we are very upset about our friends and would like to see them as soon as possible," he finished softly. The girl looked up at him, and her eyes widened and she smiled.
"I am Minuialwen," she said as she began walking again. Legolas and Gimli were glaring at Aragorn. He knew that they did not think a servant of Saruman's deserved to be treated with decency, but they weren't going to get anywhere if she believed that they were going to hurt her.
"I am Aragorn. The dwarf is Gimli and the elf is Legolas," he said. Legolas and Gimli glared at hiom again, but Minuialwen beamed at Legolas.
"You are Prince Legolas of Mirkwood?" she asked excitedly. Legolas looked suspiciously at her, as if deciding whether or not to answer. He chose not to. Disappointment clouded her childlike face, but the look of admiration on her face as she glanced at Legolas was evident. She decided to try again.
"They say you are most skilled in archery. They say you took out a pack of Orcs with a single arrow," she said. Legolas started to smile but caught himself in time. Minuialwen saw and was apparently satisfied with that for now. Aragorn spoke again.
"Minuialwen. That is an Elvish name," he said.
"It is. My name in the language of the faerie is Breacadh. Our language is very old and has no name, so we have grown more comfortable using Quenyan or Valaran, though very few of us would know Valaran. Most likely the language would be used in the Imperial Keeps," she responded lightly. It was now their turn to look at her in admiration. In legend the faeries were descended from the Moriquendi, or the elves of darkness, those who did not see the light of Aman. Only one elf, years after the journey had passed, made the journey back to Aman to beg forgiveness of the Valar. The Valar took pity on the lone elf and gave him the gift of flight. The faeries were descended from this elf. The elf was also granted knowledge of Valaran secrets, which also meant that he knew of the language of the Valar. It is what made these creatures so dangerous. Breacadh shyly looked at the three men in turn, pleased that she had impressed them. When she smiled though, Aragorn noticed something. Her two top canine teeth were actually teeny little fangs. Only someone with very good eyesight would have noticed because at first they didn't seem very different from the rest of her teeth. The faerie either didn't notice or didn't care. Aragorn looked at Legolas, and the elf nodded. Aragorn fell back to Gimli's side.
"She has fangs," he whispered.
"What?" the dwarf asked in alarm.
"Fangs. Like the agar-lavel ûn," he said softly. Her head turned slightly at the words. Nobody had contact with the faeries. All anyone knew was that their ways were strange, almost frightening.
"Which name are you more comfortable with?" Aragorn asked, to fill the silence.
"Hmm?" she asked.
"Do you preferred your Elvish name or your faerie name?" he asked. She furrowed her brow and glanced back at him before answering, "Breacadh."
They did not talk for hours after that, until both Legolas's and Breacadh's pointed ears twitched and they halted in their place.
"What?" Aragorn asked worriedly.
Breacadh looked relieved and started yelling, "Á nutë te!" while Legolas had fitted his arrow to his bow. At first Aragorn was confused, but soon he heard them. They were making little noises to let them know that they were here. They were probably faeries come to help Breacadh. 10 men stepped out of the trees. They were armed with what looked like golden chains around each wrist and small daggers tucked into their pants. They wore loose pants, but no shirt and no shoes. The pants were green velvet with gold stitching. Each man also had a delicate glass lily hanging from a silver chain around his neck, and they all looked similar to Breacadh except that while her porcelain skin glittered like the dew, their skin darkened and lightened to blend into their surroundings, and they most certainly did not sparkle like the young one did. One of the men broke from the circle and everyone else shifted to fill his empty space. He was tall and had the same small, pretty features as Breacadh, yet his body was muscled and his eyes were a deep gold.
"Iomhar!" cried the tiny girl and flung herself into the large fairy's arms. They stood like that for a moment before Iomhar pulled away.
"Onórë! Ma carnë len?" he asked worriedly, pulling her away from Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli and glaring at the three before returning a soft expression to Breacadh. Breacadh and Iomhar conferred for another few moments and then finally turned to the company.
"What do you think you are doing here? Keeping my sister hostage and threatening her when she is only trying to help you search for your friends!" His voice was calm and even, but the expression on his face was enough to scare even the bravest of soldiers. But it was Gimli who spoke first.
"This little wench is in league with Saruman yet we are the ones who are greeted as prisoners," the dwarf snarled. The faerie's face went pale with rage as he yelled, "Á nutë te!" to the other soldiers, if his impression of them was correct. Aragorn tried to calmly explain, but was soon gagged and bound by the rest of the faeries, as were Gimli and Legolas. He watched with the tiniest flicker of fear as Iomhar handed Breacadh a bone handled whip. She smiled up at her brother and sent the company a chilled look. She unwound the rope and she and her brother turned on their heels and led the way to this Keep.