A/N: /Creeps cautiously towards the computer/ Is this thing going to let me update? It is? Yes! Hi guys, sorry about another two month delay, I swear it wasn't intentional. Here's the brief overview of reasons why I haven't updated since January (not that you want to hear them): School, State competition for BOCES, training and competing in horseshows, extreme stress, work, MAS, and other things I really can't think of right now. Anyway, some good things that have happened: this chapter is going up, I'm ahead of schedule working on future chapters, I have my own computer in my room so I can type without being kicked off because one of my sisters wants a turn or has a paper to write (doesn't have internet though, darn it), and my muse has been consistently showing up in the last few weeks. I'm also going to be starting a livejournal sometime within the next few days so I can keep you guys updated on my progress regarding future chapters, which is really all I need it for. Until I get it up all notices will be on my bio-page for those of you who haven't noticed already. Once it is up the link will be put under my e-mail on my bio. The only other thing I have to say before moving on is I'm now taking anonymous reviews (again for those of you who haven't read my bio recently, not that I can blame you for that. /grin/).

A/A/N: Anyone else out there who is as confused and annoyed as I am about the change in the rating system? I mean, come on! What was wrong with the old one? It was soo much better. /pouts and glares at the screen/ ffnet's determined to torture both authors and readers, I swear!

A/A/A/N: I'm 18! No more being a minor! My birthday was the 30th, another writing/posting delay. /grins and ducks flying cakes/ Okay, you can go enjoy the chapter now. Sheesh.

Disclaimer: Anything that's not copyrighted by J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema is mine, everything that is copyrightedby them I wish was mine. Got it?

Chapter 5: The Calm After The Storm

(Tried to give you warning but everyone ignores me)
Told you everything loud and clear
(But nobody's listening)
(Call to you so clearly but you don't want to hear me)
Told you everything loud and clear
(But nobody's listening)

"Nobody's Listening"—Linkin Park

Rain slapped down onto the tree branches and dripped unendingly onto the small lean-to. Inside it was far from being perfectly dry, but the skeletal-faced being sitting there found it adequate enough to suit his purposes and gave the cold and sodden ground no more than a second thought. In his lap lay an old tome. He muttered to himself as his eyes scanned the page, swiftly deciphering the runes as he had taught himself how to do years ago. His hand twitched in minute gestures as though memorizing some ritualistic pattern.

He had grown tired of waiting. Thanks to Faramir's spy, and the storm, the Haradrim were sending less than a dozen to go on with the documents the company was guarding to the mountains of Mordor, where he had heard the desert men were amassing an army powerful enough to take Gondor while she was still in a weakened state. The rest of the soldiers were to turn around and head back beyond Gondor's southern border, where they were to await further orders.

By the time the storm had cleared and the Gondorians were able to see across the Erui once more they would be gone, and with them his opportunity to blame on them the Steward's disappearance.

Now he would have to take matters into his own hands and make sure that regardless of how he took Faramir his men would be in enough shock and confusion to keep them reeling and staring into space for weeks, let alone try to rescue their precious captain.

He smiled sadistically to himself. There were more ways than one to skin a cat, and he intended to use all of them if it meant he would reach his goal, and he knew just where to start. Erd had said that the spy Faramir had sent was an elf. Only one elf had traveled with the company, according to the reports: the Fellowship's very own Legolas Greenleaf.

Pulling some blackroot and chameleon's breath from a pouch at his belt he held them underneath his nose and breathed in their combined smell. Then he slit the tip of his right forefinger with his left thumbnail and crumpled a bit of the dried herbs into the cut, making sure they were well mixed with his blood. He began speaking in an arcane and almost forgotten form of the black speech, repeating his earlier gestures only this time with far more drama and euphemism.

"Och ar ekch le echrain. Och trech su arche. Och usf vec dezm. Ubo ihn erwq!"

As the last foul word resonated from his teeth, his entire body began to shake as a rust-colored aura slipped and pulsated across the surface of his skin. Unkempt nails grew into claws, his fingers shrunk and bent themselves inwards, his back arched and his limbs warped. His ears became thin and triangular; moving to perch on top of his head while his skull lengthened and blunt human teeth became fangs. Part of his spine lengthened to form a long, sinuous tail.

Where once had sat a human there was instead a cat, its ginger-red fur the same color the man's hair had been. It's gaunt body and sunken eye sockets gave it the appearance that it was ready for the grave. But it was the eyes themselves that told a different story. A moldy greenish-blue, they were the kind that spawned fearful superstitions of creatures that were in league with those who practiced black and forbidden arts, and in truth belonged to Morgoth himself.

The feline stood and stretched itself out, as if accustoming itself with its own body. Then it spoke a few words, its voice not coming from its mouth, but seemingly out of thin air, though there was no mistaking its origin. The tent vibrated slightly, then stilled, not a drop of water or any of its contents out of place. The cat stepped out into the freezing cold rain, satisfied that no one would be able to enter while it was gone. Overhead it could see a small sparrow huddled against the trunk of the tree that upheld the lean-to, trying to keep as warm and dry as possible.

"Get down here, or loose thy wings bird."

The sparrow started and looked at the cat in surprise. Opening its beak as if to say something, it then seemed to reconsider and obediently fluttered sown to land in the watery mud, tensing to keep from grimacing at the feel of the icy slop in his feathers. "Yes, sir?"

"Get the others together," the cat hissed, "I will wait no longer. When I return I will give you your instructions. No one is o do anything until then."

"Understood, my lord. How long until we should expect your return?"

"When my errand is complete."

The look in the cat's eyes told the sparrow he was pushing it too far, so he nodded in understanding and took a step back that really could be counted as more of a hop, though the mud made him clumsy. The cat walked away into the darkness, and as soon as the small avian was sure he was gone he shook his wings out as best as he could and labored up into the air.

The feline lengthened his stride into a lope and easily dodged and wove his way through the woods until the lights of the town came into view. Carefully he circled it until he was certain he had found a place not riddled with traps. No traps meant sentries, but what sentries would care about a cat skulking around in the shadows?

Now his enhanced senses came into play, as he gained the buildings and climbed up onto the roofs, seeking the elusive smell he expected to find eventually. Erd had said the spy had made it as far as the town. Who was to say he hadn't made it into the town?

It soon dawned on him that a more logical place to start would be a public building or stable where the soldiers would likely have taken up residence. 'Such as a tavern,' he thought when a building larger than the others came into view, a stable adjoining it. He leapt back down to the street, and trotted closer.

A sign bearing the name 'Day's End Tavern' swung and creaked in the wind, flinging water into the feline's eyes. He shook his head in annoyance and turned, trotting down the narrow alley between the tavern and the next building.

The cat jumped onto the ladder that served as an escape rout in case of fire and within moments found himself sitting on a windowsill outside one of the guest rooms. Digging his claws into the wood beneath his feet he used them as an anchor while he tried the window. If he had been a true cat it would have proven far too difficult, but human he was and human strength he had, and thus after a few minutes of straining and pulling it finally came free and jolted upwards with a horrific CRACK.

Fearful that someone might have heard it and would toss him out should they catch him he jumped onto the nearby bed and scurried underneath it as the sound of heavy boots coming down the hall caused the floorboards to shudder. The door creaked open and by the way it shook he could tell the person was frightened. While whoever it was took their time gathering enough wits to enter the dark space, he used the opportunity to shake the water from his coat and take off what remained with his sandpaper tongue. By the time he was through the human had left—he hadn't even the courage to call out if anyone was in the room let alone properly search it—and his coat had been given the first true grooming it had had in months. If he'd attempted it while in human form he would have had to cut all of his hair off for all the snags and tangles it sported.

Now he poked his head out to make sure the human had truly left and was not just playing some trick to get an intruder off his guard. No such person was in sight, so he padded over to the doorway. No one was in the hall either, but he could hear raised voices coming from behind one of the doors farther down.

"Sirs, I really must protest. These rooms are mine, though you may be using them, and I wish to know of all who stay here, and that includes him!"

"I understand your wish, Master Innkeeper, yet I must ask that you remain patient and allow us to introduce him to you at a later time, he is not well!"

"I understand that I cannot hold a conversation with him, but I still want to know who he is."

The cat's ears perked up with interest. Perhaps he had found that which he had sought in coming here. In fact he was certain of it. Slipping silently along and making sure to keep close to the wall he paused before peeking cautiously around the doorway and at the confrontation that was taking place before him.

Two humans, one obviously out of shape and the other looking as though he'd be one to watch out for in a fight stood barely a foot apart from one another. Each, well the fighter at least for the cat could not see the other's face, glared at each other and he could tell by their body language that they were daring one another to just try to make a move. Further back into the room a long-limbed youth and a grizzled man in an apron stood before one of the beds, as though trying to hide the occupant from view. This succeeded as far as the fat man, apparently the tavern owner, was concerned. The cat, however, was of completely different vantage point, and though he could not see much, he could see a slim form and a splash of gold hair.

It was all he needed to see to convince him that staying for the duration of the current events could well be worth his while.

"We have told you who he is. He is one of Faramir's warriors. Our comrade!"

The cat titled its head and swept back its ears, smirking. The soldier was loosing his patience.

"I wish for a name, Master Ossir, that's all. Then I will leave you to caring for him."

"That we cannot tell, for we have not met him before. We only know that he was sent by Faramir, and met ill luck along the way," the one called 'Ossir' grated out from between teeth clenched in frustration.

"I don't believe that. You're hiding something, and with the enemy practically at our doors, I am not going to tolerated such in my own tavern!" the fat man shouted.

'Persistent one, he is,' thought the cat.

"Enough of this!" the grizzled man growled, striding forward and grabbing the tavern owner by the front of his tunic and apron and lifting him partway off the ground, bringing their faces so close together their noses almost touched.

The cat perked his ears up in interest. Things were heating up. Perhaps his suspicions were correct.

The tavern owner's face paled. The man holding him leaned forward. "You will wake up my patient, and that is exactly what he doesn't need. When he wakes you will learn his name and whatever else you are permitted to know, but not until then!"

"No. If he wishes to know who I am then he shall, if it will put him at ease."

The fat one hit the floor hard as everyone turned and stared in shock at the flushed and slightly panting elf who was staring at them as if he wished they would just all disappear. To most of the humans he seemed unnaturally strong for one who was supposed to be so ill, but the cat and the man who had dropped the tavern owner could see his arms trembling from the strain of using energy to prop his body up that they didn't really have, especially with the hip brace pressed hard against his chest.

The elf returned their shocked stares with an irritated one of his own, letting his gaze travel full circle around the vicinity and rest on each human for a moment before moving on. The tavern owner and the youth, who was currently standing near the bed as a guard against any who might come near uninvited, both averted their eyes almost instantaneously. The other two soldiers managed to last a little longer, only Ossir really showing any signs of turning away should the firstborn continue to stare at him.

The red cat felt his eyes widen and his hackles rise when an immortal gaze fixed on him. Said immortal barely regarded him for a second before disregarding him, but there was no denying the potency of that stare should its owner decide to put it to its full potential. The feline tucked that bit of information into his mental archives for future use.

The elf in the meantime had apparently finished his scrutiny, or at least neglected to stare down the grizzled man, who apparently was the healer of the group, for too long. In a moment the man was at the injured warrior's side, pushing him back down lest he cause the splint strapped to his entire side to slip or come undone somehow. "Here now, that's enough out of you."

The patient resisted as much as he could, which wasn't much with the apparent illness his body combined with his restricted movement. Nevertheless he did manage to shake himself free of the other's grasp long enough to call out to the tavern owner.

"My name, if you desire to know, is Legolas Greenleaf of Southern Ithilien. And indeed I came to aid Faramir against the southerners who stand almost at your door."

At that declaration the cat could see fatigue begin to manifest in the immortal as the miniscule bit of energy he'd been able to call up ran out, and he sank back against the pillows, his eyes closed.

"Enough!" the healer shouted, thoroughly irritated that his patient had been disturbed. The cat could see the wince that crossed Legolas' face as the volume of the voice rose past what his sensitive ears were currently willing to deal with. The feline himself wasn't too comfortable with the level of sound either.

The elf's discomfort did not go unnoticed by Ossir either. "Shhhh," he made a calming gesture at his comrade before turning to the tavern keeper, who still had his eyes riveted on the pale figure lying on the bed, mouth hanging open in disbelief and a gasping sound coming from vocal chords that seemed to be not the least bit interested in working. Ossir fought back a smile as he took the man by the arm and began steering him towards the door.

The cat darted away from the door and headed back down the hall, glancing at doors along the way until he found the room he had broken into. A smirk, or what could pass for a smirk on the feline features, accompanied the low growl of laughter emanating unbidden from his throat. Oh it was too perfect! With the elf out of the way Faramir would be helpless, yet the self-same creature would still provide the perfect bait for his trap.

He jumped up onto the windowsill and paused before the still-open window, listening to Ossir trying to get some response out of the stunned innkeeper, imploring him to be coherent long enough to agree not to speak of Legolas to anyone.

Another idea began to tempt his mind with its sweet and promising fragrance. The innkeeper may have been absolutely floored at the revelation that his inn housed one of the 'legendary' firstborn, but before that little detail had been revealed he had been actually conniving, to a certain extent at least. He would be an easy one to buy off and manipulate, and suppose he lead Faramir into the trap? It would be very convenient and save the cat the trouble of having to risk one of his own warriors. The cat cared not enough to mourn loosing one of his 'men', but he was no fool. Faramir may love poetry and music more than the sword, but when threatened he was no one to be taken lightly. And if he were trying to protect his comrades….he'd be even more difficult to subdue. It was best he save his forces for the struggle rather than risk early detection.

That having been decided, the feline leapt out the window and a few hops later gained the ground. Wasting no time he trotted around the building seeking the servants' entrance.

A crash and a few muffled curses drove him into the safety of a pile of crates. Climbing to the top of the heap he gazed down at the cause of the commotion, a sweaty man throwing objects, apparently potatoes, at a small, scrawny-looking boy. "An next time stay away from mah food, ya good for nothing….."

The cat quirked an eyebrow at the colorful language and the boy's failure to be impressed by it. Then it simply faded from his interest as the realization that he'd found his desired entrance struck him and he darted down from his perch and through the door before the irate and overzealous human could notice him.


Legolas tried to ignore the condescending tirade the human fusing over him assaulted him with, to no avail he had to grudgingly admit. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the reeling in his stomach, or the pounding ache in his temples, the more persistent and prevailing that voice became.

"When I say enough I mean enough! You have no idea just how much energy and effort I had to put into saving your sorry elvish hide. You think making a gallon of anti-venom in less than an hour with only the bit I was able to glean out of your blood is easy! Guess again! Most people would call it impossible, yet I go and do it all the same. And when all I want is a little cooperation on your part in return, you outright begin struggling! Of all the irresponsible, tone-deaf, thick skulled, lousy excuse of a patient I could have had…"

"That…is…enough…Human," Legolas ground out of his teeth, holding his head tightly as he did so to ensure it did not up and explode unbidden on him.

"…I had to get you," he finished. Legolas tried to growl a warning at him to keep his tone down and his mouth shut whenever possible, and found himself wishing he could just pass out again when all he managed was a weak and absolutely unimpressive mewl.

"Ha!" the secondborn snorted in response. "You didn't listen to me when I said it, so why should I listen to you?"

Legolas was in too much pain to come up with any kind of witty comeback. When he had first awoken to the argument taking place between the tavern owner and the soldiers who apparently had taken it upon themselves to nurse him back to health, he was simply sound sensitive and achy and wanted to put an end to the noise. Since then he had quickly become light sensitive and nauseous as well. He began rocking himself unconsciously, not caring at the moment that there was anyone else around to see, groaning against the pain.

Hapsen's features softened. As mad as disobedient patients made him, he wasn't anywhere near cruel enough to continue lecturing one while he was experiencing a soon-to-be full-blown migraine. Shaking his head he walked over to the pot of water still simmering in the hot ashes next to the fire. Picking up a mug left over from his anti-venom making he checked it over to ensure it didn't have any ingredient residue in it before filling it with the warm liquid. Dropping a bit of chalky, white powder from his medicine bag into it he let it disintegrate before moving to sit beside the elf, pulling his hands away from his head.

Hapsen held the mug under his patient's nose, his other hand coming around to cup the back of his head when he tried to turn away. "Shh, take it," he urged, "I promise it won't make you sick. It will ease the pain and help you to sleep; that's really the best thing anyone can do for a headache like that."

Legolas normally would have fought like a wildcat at the thought of being drugged, and by a stranger no less! The only ones he really trusted enough to willingly submit to being drugged by was Aragorn and his adopted family, or his own father. He remembered one time when he was injured on a hunting trip his father being called to sit with him while he was forced to remain in the healing wing of the palace for a few days because he had refused to be drugged and had sent three master healers to their own peers to be treated for broken bones and misaligned necks and backs as a result of his struggling. This time though, he was too far gone with this—headache—to fight back, he just wanted to be released from his current torment. The light hurt, sound hurt, moving hurt, not moving hurt, and if he had anything in his stomach it would be on the floor by now or all over himself.

Forcing his mouth to open and allow the concoction admittance, he swallowed it down slowly, relieved when it didn't make his stomach react.

Hapsen nodded once in approval and helped the elf to lie back as gently as he could, tucking the quilts around him. He turned away and tiptoed towards the door, grabbing the youth who had been observing the whole thing from the fireplace and dragging him out of the room with him. "Hey—umfff!"

"Hush! He's all but unconscious now and that's not going to be long in coming." Hapsen spared on last glance inside at the room's occupant. He would probably be more comfortable if the fire was out and he could have complete darkness but that could not be helped as the healer would not risk him getting chilled.

"But shouldn't someone stay with him?" Gesan asked.

"No," Hapsen pushed the boy away and closed the door. "What he needs is to be left alone so he can sleep that migraine off. Now shouldn't you be getting some sleep right about now?"

"Why?" Gesan asked. "SHHH!" the older healer hissed.

Gesan lowered his voice. "Why? I mean, I'll just have to be getting up in a little while for my morning shift anyway."

Hapsen snorted. "It's almost evening, boy. That storm was bad enough that we never saw daylight; it was almost dawn when it started. Granted, we were all too busy to consider it, but honestly, what night lasts that long?"

Gesan started. "Almost evening? But why didn't they send someone to make us take our shifts at the gate?"

"Like I said, we were busy, and Ossir sent a note with Cheman saying that we were all needed here to take care of our unexpected guest there," he pointed a finger at the elf's door. "Now, I suggest you go get some rest, tomorrow it's back to normal shifts for us all, and Faramir is going to have to be notified that one of his troop is here, no doubt they're missing him by now."

Gesan nodded and went in the direction of his own room at the opposite end of the hall, nodding in affirmation of the other soldier's hiss of "And go quietly!"

Hapsen felt a great urge to slam his head into the wall and then throw one of his scalpels at the teenager when he tripped on a loose board and went flying headfirst into the wood, sending up a crash that could take the entire building down. Gesan picked himself up and spared a glance over his shoulder, deciding that running—silently of course—and hiding in his room for the next few days would be a far better health policy than trying to apologize to the look of pure contempt and murder that was currently burning his back to ashes.

Hapsen considered looking in and seeing if the elf was even still alive after a noise like that, but decided against it and went to the room he shared with Ossir.

The inn only had so many rooms, since the town was small and hardly got any visitors, but at the same time they didn't see any reason to fill them all in case they were needed to hold wounded later on, so those who were willing were asked to double or triple up in the rooms big enough to accommodate it. Gesan was at that awkward age where he needed a bit of space from people hanging over him all the time, so he had been put in a small room only fit to hold one. Most of the others elected to stay in the stables instead of having to worry about their gear being in the way when every second counted.

It was logical and appreciated, as was Ossir's offer that he and the kid stay close in case he needed help. Ossir and he had worked together long enough that the other soldier was practically a healer himself, and held preference over everyone else in their troop when he had need of an assistant.

Ossir quirked an eyebrow when he entered. "What was all the noise about?"

"That kid of yours tripped and fell, just after I got done telling him to be quiet so that elf can sleep." Hapsen glared in annoyance.

"Stuff like that happens. I tripped over the same board when we first came here, and Cheman was in such a daze after he found out that he's housing an elf that he almost went headfirst down the stairs. It's a common menace if you ask me."

Hapsen could have laughed at the mental image of the fat tavern owner going ass over teakettle down a flight of stairs, but his irritation at the boy for possibly tormenting his patient overshadowed it. No one was allowed to do that but him, as their friend Almeran once put it, even though he couldn't for the life of him see how healing a person could be considered torture.

The other soldier could see he wasn't getting anywhere with cheering him up, so he decided to switch topics instead. "How is Legolas anyway?"

"He's got a migraine. It's a common enough side-effect to the scorpion poisoning that I gave him a mild sedative and painkillers. That's really the best I can do. Best thing for him is to sleep it off."

Ossir winced. He'd had migraines in the past and he could sympathize with the agony the elf must be in. Damn things kept him down typically for about two days if not more, hopefully with the elf it wouldn't be that long.

"How is Cheman with the whole subject? Think he'll be trouble?" Hapsen asked.

"I'm inclined to think not, so long as we pay him the extra he wants for taking in an elven guest."

Hapsen sneered in contempt. "Scum."

Ossir nodded in agreement. "Definitely. Now if you don't mind I'm going to get some sleep. Should we take shifts watching Legolas?"

"No, let him be. That sedative will keep him out for a while. I doubt he'll be getting up before we do," Hapsen yawned.

His friend nodded and rolled over on his bed, exhaustion claiming him in moments. Hapsen laid down on his own and closed his eyes, lulled by his friend's light snores.


Faramir wasn't sure if he should be worried yet or not. The storm clouds kept anyone from seeing the setting sun, but he knew it was there, slipping beneath the horizon as it would in an endless cycle until the end of the world.

He looked up at the sound of tent material being pushed aside. It was Faron, the Lieutenant who had escorted them into the camp yesterday. The younger officer saluted him, then stood at ease when told by the Prince of Ithilien.

"Lord Legolas has not yet returned sir, and the sun is setting. Should we send others after him?" he asked.

Faramir sighed, shaking his head. "No. If they discovered him they will be all the more on the alert, it's too risky. We will wait a little longer, it may be that he was delayed, and knowing elves he has enough patience to stay in the same spot for a month."

"Very well sir," Faron said, trying not to laugh and cause himself embarrassment in front of the Steward, though he could not deny that he found the thought highly improbable as well as amusing.

"Come back at midnight if he has not returned, we will need to plan a new course of action if that be the case." Faramir turned away and made a motion with his hand, dismissing the soldier. "You may go."

"Yes sir," Faron bowed, then left the tent.

Faramir sighed again, then looked at the roof of the tent above him. "I hope it doesn't come to that," he whispered to himself.


Legolas slowly became aware of his surroundings again as the drugs in his system wore off and his elven healing abilities finally broke the migraine that had made him feel almost worse than the scorpion venom had. His eyes opened, and he grimaced at the fact that he had slept with them closed. The room was dark with the exception of the small glow of the embers in the fireplace. The humans had left as well, though Legolas could sense that they were near. Looking around, he could see some tools and bandages left behind by the healer that had drugged him, and his own pack and weapons, even his Haradrim disguise piled on a chair in the corner.

Placing the heels of his hands on either side of him he tried to push himself up into a sitting position, only to be stopped by the brace that ran up the entire length of his leg and ribs. Unfazed he let himself sink back again and began working the ties of the cloth strips that held the contraption to his ribs. Once those were undone he again tried sitting up, stopping for a moment when he was fully upright as his head buzzed and vision swam in protest. After that had passed he carefully eased both legs over the side of the bed, no small feat with the brace in the way and his body telling him plainly that it wasn't fully well yet and that he was being far too hasty.

"I can rest later," he thought. "First I have to get back to Faramir and tell him what's going on. All I need to do is find the stables and borrow a horse."

Finally gaining his feet, the elf paused a moment to make sure he wouldn't fall over before making his way easily towards his pack and weapons, the dim light all that he really needed to avoid tripping over things. He opened the flap and drew out his clothes. He was grateful to the soldiers for lending him something dry, but hated the coarse human-made cloth, wanting only to be back in his own elvish clothing again. At the bottom of his pack his fingers brushed up against cool metal. Frowning he removed the item and inspected it, brows unfurrowing as he realized that he held the scale-armor Almeran had given him. Another trip into the pack and his hand returned with the fox-head helmet as well.

While he put on his own garb he debated what he would do with them. The desert clothing he had no desire to take with him, though he would probably give it to Faramir in case, Valar forbid, they ever had need of it again. In the end he decided to wear the pauldrons and coat, and carry the helmet in his bag, no need to wear it if he didn't have to. But in case Faramir wanted to use the cover of night to make a move, he didn't want to have to take the time to put on armor later when he would probably need to rest and make sure he had as much energy recovered as he could for when they made their move.

As he fixed the second pauldron to his shoulder, he noticed a piece of folded paper on the ground almost underneath the chair. Curious, he bent down and retrieved it, moving near the almost dead fire to read what was written on it.

"Huh!" he gasped, eyes widening.

TBC…

AN: Okay, I'm going to be really evil and finish it right there simply for the sake of getting something posted. This chapter is pathetically short compared to my others but at least it's better than nothing, right? /picks up large umbrella to shield herself from rain of flaming arrows/ Well I'm sorry but it's the best I can do unless you'd rather wait another week-and-a-half or two since after this weekend is over I'll have no time to post or possibly even write anything until after the tenth. Fortunately for you that means that you get a chapter and a half worth of reading when next I post. And guess what? I actually have the outline for chapter 7 complete and the outline for chapter 8 started! YAY! Now don't go having a heart attack on me people, please! If you feel incredibly shocked, just keel over gently. Don't die though, Chapter 7 will be here soon enough to bring you out of it; or real life will. Whichever gets there first. /grins/ Since I still have a lot of work to do so that my mom doesn't kill me and say I got nothing done today, here's the review responses, and a big thanks once again for Kelsey Estel's reminder of just how late I was in getting this half-a-chapter out. You rock girl!

Once again a review saves the day! They really work to get me going and to cure me from my frequent Muse Abandonment Syndrome (MAS), so the more I get the faster I write and the more I make sure I get time to write. So send 'em, please?

Review Responses:

Kelsey Estel: Once again you saved the day girl! Kudos to you, you have my permission to yell at me whenever I go over my due date for future chaps, though hopefully once fourth quarter starts my schedule will lighten up so that I won't have to keep making people wait so long. Yea, famous last words, huh? Well Aswad was supposed to be in this chapter so you would have had more of a chance to study his character but that didn't work out so you'll see lots of him next time around. Faramir was supposed to find out about him as well but again the question of "To post or not to post" had to be answered. This whole fic will be a bit of a guilt trip for our Steward (when he's coherent enough to worry about stuff like that /evil grin/) but the real guilt will not come until the end /coughsequelcough/. Sorry, choked on some lemonade there. Anyway, I hate needles to, though not as much anymore since I'm a pre-vet tech student and my class had to go to a farm to round up and vaccinate cattle and the needles were absolutely huge! Poor things. Glad I don't have to get stuck with anything that big. Anyway I'm glad you're sticking with the story and I absolutely loved your last review. Legolas fangirls putting colored ribbons in Faramir's hair? ROTFL, that is SOO going on my list of top ten LOTR torture methods of all time! You devious, evil person! I may have to come to you for torture ideas later.

Setrinan: Glad you liked Gesan. So far he's shaping up to be the OC favorite of the fic. /grin/ I like him too, he's a lot of fun to write. Yes, Legolas has been found by the good guys, but beware! Looks can be deceiving! Someone should really tell our pretty elf boy that, as well as everyone else actually. Such advice will come in very handy before long. Good to know you approve of my dialogue, that's one of the things I'm always unsure of, whether or not I've kept it characteristic of each person. Aswad is another element that's challenging me, and I'm loving every minute of it. He's so devious and interesting. Originally I wasn't going to have a knife fight between him and Legolas, just taunt the two of them with it but have them clash in other ways. Which they still will! Only now that you've mentioned it I've realized just how much I want to see them fight so I'm going to make sure they get at least one in there.

Deana: YES, I posted! And hurray I've posted again! Somehow I'll get this fic done before I have to go to college, that I will. Hope you didn't get too discouraged waiting for me.

Elenhin: I thank thee for thy kind words, good reviewer. /sweeps off imaginary hat and bows/ I hope thee has remained eager, for this fic is nowhere near over yet, so enjoy! Okay that was a really bad attempt at Shakespearean, but enjoy the update anyway. /grin/

Star-Stallion: Yes, the scorpions are lovely aren't they? I would love to put my story on your website. You're going to laugh, but I never even heard of PM-ing someone until trying to send you the info for it. My friend said she'd show me how, but she never got the chance, so if you could send me instructions I'll send you the story info asap. I couldn't find an e-mail address for you so I left a review on one of you stories saying this but I don't know if you got it or not, so don't think I forgot, because I didn't, and it really flatters me that you like my story that much. /does victory dance/ And yes, sadly, Faramir is going to have his wings clipped for a while, but don't think that he'll be out of commission and useless the whole time, he still has a major part to play.

Flowerbee1: I've got you hooked? Yay, now to reel you in for more. Hope you enjoyed this one, despite it being length challenged. /grin/ Don't worry, Faramir will come out alright, just can't say when though. /evilgrin/

Lindahoyland: Thanks, glad you liked them too.

Wantanelf: Nice to have you on board. I love it when I find a story that I can't put down, I hope I didn't put you through too much withdrawl. /hides under desk/ I'm so ashamed. Love your name, by the way. Are you a Chinese food addict like I am?

Katquest2000: Thanks. Here's your update!

Ok guys, I got to go now but don't worry, my outline's already written so all I gotta do is put it up on my computer. Reviews keep me going faster and I LOVE the feedback, so review! Please? /gives Puss in Boots eyes/