Disclaimer- -sulks- Dontwanndoitiiiiiit! -is hit by something shaped suspiciously like a little rock- ow... fine! -takes deep breath- dontownanyofLoTRonlyownCayandsomemorecharriesnothingmuchsoeffoff -pants- there! Happy now? No? Well, sod off anyway.

Notes- Honeys, Im hooooome! Turkey rocked my furry socks... Methinks I fell in love with a Turkish barman, but methinks Im not sure xD Anyhow, I hope you all missed meh whilst I was sunning myself abroad. Oh yea, my ears popped on the plane, so I nearly killed the person sitting next to me when my sinuses were trying to equalise the pressure- lucky for them the pain was too agonising x3 So, here comes the fourth chapter, though its actually the fifth... Does that make sense? Probably not...
Anyhow, I only got one vote about the romance xo So it looks like it shall be an Elrohir-mance
And this isnt going to be as funny... Im rusty and a bit ill after my jolly hollies; dont worry, I'll make sure the next chapter ish better

Pronunciation of my characters-
Caisha- Cay-sha
Ysan- Ee-san
Dyanai- Di-yan-ey
Illyra- Ill-aye-rar
Línarai- Lee-nar-ey
Bregedur- Bree-ga-door
Aerauth- Ey-er-ow-th

To my beloved reviewers- Lets say a nice big Middle-Earth welcome to MordeMe and Saltwater for reviewing! -attackglompsnugpokeswithsword- xD Im not crazy... Just temporarily insane.

Crecy- Yesh... Poor Leggy doesent like Cay that much -sulks- I wonder why?

MordeMe- I'm milking the Mary-Sueness for all its worth xD

ChronicCheddar- -eyes cupboard suspiciously- I dont want to know about it xD Anyhow, I use feet as well... Obviously, because I have two of them that carry me around... -tumbleweed rolls past- fine... Well, me and Fio could only ever manage about three foot xO!

xkuroxshinobix- Dungeons? Naw xD She'd drive her jailers insane within a day... Elrond just wants to get rid of her... Bless his little elvish socks.

Saltwater- Yesh indeed I did actually poke someone in the eye with my mascara brush once... I never heard the end of it... o-0 I'm considered deadly with all cosmetics these days...

GothicShadow- You're the only one who voted... -sniffle- So, mes amis, the romantic-al interest shall be... -pathetic drum roll- Elrohir! Weeeee... And I dont want to know about the closet xD Take it to your grave... For all our sakes Alrighty, I shall write now...

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Chapter Four - Of Tractors, Mimic Plays and Fred

Understandably, Caisha's mind was preocuppied with home... She thought of her life before this one, and mused over the world she was beginning to think she'd never see again... It was a saturday in the normal world... She'd be planning visiting maybe Heaven and Hell later on that night with Joe and a few of their friends, or trying her luck at bowling with a few selective people... Perhaps even the cinema, if she could get past the number of scallies and moshers who often kicked off outside the place. She'd been caught up in their fights once too often, and got many a bruised eye or rib for her pains... Right now, her most faithful companions Alice and Terri would no doubt be accompanying her into town, hunting for suitable birthday presents...
Oh god, her birthday! She'd completely forgotten... Time was different in this world; people told the time by the sun and stars, not clocks or watches. Plus the calender was a lot more complicated; all things like Durin's day and such... No simple 'January, February, March, April...' etc and no simple '1, 2, 3...' And so it was only when she'd asked Elrohir how long she'd been with them in the Last Homely House that she'd discovered she'd been there three solid weeks. With a shocking realisation, after she'd somehow worked out the date of the day she'd arrived in Middle-Earth on, then worked out that it was, infact, her birthday tomorrow... She would normally have been planning one of the biggest Outings she could think of; maybe to the Blues, or 42nd Avenue, with a close knit group of friends... Thirty or so should have done it. Caisha was never one to celebrate elaborately.
Like last year. Her sixteenth birthday... It had been a memorable occasion; she'd taken about ten friends to paintballing and then to Jilly's, or Rock World as it was informally known by all. Aching all over from being pelted with small paint bombs, she discovered that alcohol on ones birthday was a great way to ease through the pain. As a result, she'd ended up dancing ontop of he bar and accepting a rather interesting cone-shaped cigarette from one of her friends. The she'd ended up believing her mobile phone had a tracking device, and chucked it into the Canal on the way home. She'd also been convinced a little old lady pushing a trolley had a machine gun hidden in her bags, and would have rugby-tackled the old woman to prove herself right if Joe and Sam had not pinned her to the ground. But she couldn't do any of that here here... Oh no... She doubted elves knew what a spliff was.
And instead of her fantastic party? She was stuck in Rivendell, spending her days learning how to spar with sword and shoot with a bow; both of which she was amazingly lame at. She was tutored in these and unarmed combat by either Elrohir or Elladan; sometimes both. On those occasions, she was royally pounded. At times, Boromir or Aragorn would stop in the courtyard she was training in, to watch and make quiet observations or add teaching of their own. Most of the time she'd get nervous with her audience, and when flustered she made a lot of mistakes; pulling the bow back with her thumb instead of her index and middle finger, for example, or pulling the string so taunt that the arrow dropped to the ground. With the sword she was sorely in danger of loosing a head or limb, and when she compared herself to her elven tutors, she discovered she could parry perhaps one or two blows before finding two wooden sparring sword points inches from her throat- needless to say that, the more she practiced, the more useless and self-conscious she felt. She was clumsy and stiff, no way near as loose limbed and elegant as Elrohir and Elladan seemed with their blades... Because of this, the practice had inceased during the days leading towards the Fellowships departure, and it is in her training courtyard she can be found now, sparring with one of the elven twins, having a rather... interesting conversation...

------

"Ask me if I drive a tractor."
"..."
"El?"
"What is this... 'tractor', of which you speak?"
"Oh. It's like the big squashed frame of a car with big wheels and half the horse power. Everyone hates them."
"..."
"Elly?"
"Elly? And what is this... 'car', of which you speak?"
"Just ask me the damn question, Elly!"
"Very well... Do you drive a tractor?"
"No!"
There was a long silence, broken only by the clack of their wooden sparring swords, and then; "I dont understand."

"Really?"
"No..."
"Oh... well, its a joke."
"Ahh... Where's the humour?"
"Well, the point is that it's so lame it's funny in not being funny..."
There was an even longer pause, "..."
"Elly?"
"I dont get it."
"Right... Well, y'see-- ow!" there was a muffled stream of curses as Caisha dropped to her knees, having recieved a particularly nasty whack to the collarbone.
"You let your guard down." There was a hint of concern in Elrohir's face and voice as he helped her to her feet; she glared at him, rubbing the bone of her neck which she knew was already beginning to bruise.
"Oh, sorry..." she growled sarcastically, pulling down the collar of her fighting tunic and massaging the throbbing stretch of skin. Elrohir sighed, tucking the wooden sword into a harness-type loop in his belt,
"You must be more aware, Caisha. Orcs and Goblins do not forgive mistakes." His hand gently rested on hers for a moment as it continued to worry the painful collar of her body, before prying it away and applying his own cool, if calloused, fingers against the bruised skin... The feel of it shocked her and she almost moved away, but it was difficult to resist the gentleness of his soothing hand; not to mention the concern that had alighted on his face...
It was strange how she'd never noticed it before, but the light in his eyes was not cast from any outside illumination. Instead, the fathomless depths seemed instead to be lit up from inside, with some inner flame. It was like looking into his soul; it unnerved her, more than she felt it should of done, but didnt move from his touch- her shoulder ached too much. As his digits slowly coursed across the unhappy flesh, she felt the muscle settle a bit under his practised touch, and the throbbing eased away a tad, though a dull ache remained and she found it difficult to lift her left arm past shoulder-height; no doubt it was still complaining about being broken.
She felt his hand linger against the skin for perhaps a second too long, and as she looked up unto those light grey eyes, she was surprised to see confusion etched in the fire of his soul... But then his hand was drawn away from her collarbone, and his eyes resumed their normal mischevious brightness, to such an extent she wondered whether she'd imagined the look she'd seen in his face a moment past. She bit her bottom lip gently, as she always did when thoughtful or nervous, and was about to say something, when he smoothly cut across her, seeming oblivious to what had just happened, though she knew by some inner instinct he was not,
"I think thats enough practice today." -she couldnt have agreed more- "You're getting better, slowly. Your stance is alright, and you're parrying the hits better. You just need to work on your defence. You can hit well enough, just make sure you dont fall over with the momentum." she flushed a bit here; she'd fallen several times, following the power she'd put into a sword swing. The most embarrasing occasion was when she knocked over several spectators who had stopped to watch the spar; the ensuing chaos meant she'd become even more unpopular with the elves. Elrohir and Elladan, who'd been teaching her together, had just laughed, out-loud for a change... Caisha wanted to sink into the earth, especially when Legolas, who heard about the event, had re-enacted the entire thing at the dinner that following evening...
That had been an interesting dinner; following Legolas' tantrum, and Caisha's realisation of which of the small people was Frodo, the Fellowship had dined with the rest of the Last Homely House; often, Caisha found herself seated between Elrohir and Elladan, or Elrohir and Boromir, and whiled away the time happily listening to the adventures of the two. She was particularly enthralled with Elrohir account of when he and Elladan rode to rescue their mother from orc dens when she'd been captured in the Redhorn Pass, after visiting her own mother Galadriel in Lórien. It was a fantastic journey, but by the time the twins had reached their mother, she had recieved a poisonous wound and, although Elrond healed her, she had sailed away to the West. When Elrohir had told her all this over one dinner, quietly and without his usual spark of mischevious good nature, she'd felt the bitterness in his voice and face that fuelled the twin's hate towards orcs, and the reason they often rode against them in Northern Dúnedain. She'd rested her hand on his own rough one sympathetically, and he'd given her the same confused look she'd seen just now... Something in his face made her wonder...
But no matter... The interesting dinner I began speaking of was a few nights ago, following Caisha's mishap with her elven audience. She'd found that Aragorn, for some reason, had taken her usual place between Elrohir and Elladan, and cast her eyes around their usual table for a reason why; it was simple. Legolas had taken Aragorns space between Arwen and Elrond, talking and smiling along in elvish with the two half-elvens. He caught her gaze and returned it calmly, with a hint of a smirk lingering about his lips... She'd scowled at him, and sat between Gimli and Sam; she immediately wished she hadn't. Gimli smelt worse than B.O Beth in school, who Caisha'd had to sit next to after Games and P.E; the girl had reeked. Caisha had, on more than one occasion, seriously contemplated knocking her out with a bag of Dove deodorant; either that or physically forcing her into a bath... But the dwarf besides her was about three times worse, and caused her to actually recoil, until she'd almost been sat on Sam's lap- the little hobbit didn't seem at all bothered, and began speaking to her of how much he'd like to grow some parsley in his garden, for a change.
And so, whilst Caisha had been hap-hazardly trying to eat whilst breathing through her mouth, listening quietly to the conversation buzz around her and thinking of her home back in the 'real' world, she noticed Legolas stand up. She was expecting him to make a speech of some sort, and so, out of manners rather than respect, she lowered her fork and watched the elven Prince carefully; to her surprise, and everyone elses, he called up a few other elves from the crowd of eating folk, and arranged them in a gaggle besides him, and one infront of him; the scene looked suspiciously familiar... The rest of the Fellowship, and Rivendell's occupants, seemed content to watch whatever entertainment the Mirkwood Prince had thought up, though Elrohir and Elladan exchanged a similar look with her; they all knew something was going on... And it most certainly was; Legolas declared that he was going to do a 'Mimic Show' and Caisha felt her stomach sink as far as her boots- the memory of the mornings training session was still fresh, and near enough to whole of the House had heard about it...
What happened next horrified her; she'd always presumed Legolas was the nice one. The happy, friendly, blonde, dwarf-friend elf... But no. Ever since Elrond had forced her onto the Fellowship, Legolas had regarded her with the disdain she would have reserved only for next door neighbours children... The silence that had settled with the awkwardness about the Hall reminded her eerily of the time she'd gotten herself trapped in the cellar and had a very long argumentative fight with the door before realising she had been trying to open it the wrong way. Luckily, no-one had been there to witness that scene; but here, her foolishness would be present to the whole elven community of Rivendell... She had realised what Legolas was doing; trying to prove how incompetent a female she was, how it was a danger to take her with them on the Fellowship's quest, how much a girl didn't belong holding a weapon... She'd have liked to see him come up against her friend Antonia when she was having a bad day and was armed with a pair of tweezers; she'd quickly change his mind. Antonia absolutely despised Orlando Bloom, to the depths of her soul; she was more of a Johnny Depp fan.
Thinking of Anthonia had made her stomach twist with homesickness; she wanted to be back in her little house in England, bullying her sister for her Lord of the Rings obsession, plotting the murder of her twin brothers and generally just bossing about the rest of her siblings. Most of all she wanted to feel the comfort of her mothers hugs, and her fathers voice- and Joe. Joe, whom she realised she missed the most. He had always been there, since they were children- most thought him a bad influence on her, but she adored him for it... They'd been together for longer than anyone could remember; other couples came and went, but Joe and Caisha had an immortal relationship. Maybe because neither regarded the other as their 'Partner', rather as a rather intimate friend... The thoughts of home, however, had been thrown aside when Legolas had begun to re-enact, perfectly, of course, the events of the morning's training session.
She had set her jaw in a hard, determined line, and managed to sit through the most of it. When she dragged her eyes to look over at Elrohir and Elladan, she noticed that the two twins looked as pissy as she, and Elrohir was clutching his fork so hard she suspected he'd bent the metal... She had thought she'd been doing quite well, but that was only up until the laughter. When Legolas, who was enacting herself, fell sideways with his little wooden prop sword, into the group of elves and knocking them down, laughter shook the Halls of Fire. Even Gimli was chuckling away to himself; she contemplated cutting off one of his plaits and gagging him with it, but decided against it; God alone knew what inhabited his hair, and God alone could keep the information to himself.
That had been the most she could take, then- the shame got too much for her. She wanted the ground to swallow her up again and, with a strangled cry that caused most of the laughing elves to look at her, she pushed herself off from the bench she'd been sat on and hurried out of the Hall. Her exit, however, was interrupted by a servant, carrying a tray covered in lambas bread rolls, who didn't have the same sense of dramatic finess she did and who blocked her leave at the doorway. The result was hardly the elegant exit she'd been planning and she fled the Halls after picking herself up from where she and the servant had fallen, covered in lambas bread, as the laughter of the elves chased her. She was aware of shouting behind her, though it wasnt directed at her and, even if it had, it wouldnt have stopped her fleeing...

------

She realised she'd been lost in her thoughts again; she did that a lot, these days. She felt distant, like this world was a very surreal dream that didnt matter, though she knew, deep down, that it wasnt. In a way, this whole Rivendell set up was a link to her life- her real life, the one she'd been quite happy in, getting pissed every other weekend, skipping lessons, forgetting homework, brawling, attacking anyone who enoucraged her sisters addiction to FanFiction... Christ, she wanted Illyra to have a real life; and she wanted her own back. She didnt want to be stood there, staring like a gormless fool at Elrohir whilst her thoughts lead her mind elsewhere, dressed in just a plain, dirtied cream tunic covered by her Nirvana tee-shirt and brown hose, of which the points were tied wrong and meant if she walked in a certain fashion, she fell over, with the creamy silver cloak strewn carefully over a wall nearby... It took a while for her to realise the elven twin was speaking...
"...again, Caisha?"
She blinked at him, glancing from where she'd been staring at the wooden sword clutched in her inexpert hand to his face, which was looking amused. She scowled,
"What?"
"I said, 'what are you thinking of again, Caisha?'"
"Again?"
"Yes. You daydream a lot lately."
She paused- did she? She didnt think anyone noticed... "Home." she replied, simply.
Elrohir was silent for longer; he sat himself on the stone wall running around the courtyard, staring at the beddragled tree that stood in the center, trying desperately to smarten up and look more tree-like. Really, it was an overgrown sapling, or stringy brush... Elrond's son then spoke again, not looking at him, but at the wanna-be tree,
"Where is your home?"
"In general or right now?"
"I dont understand..."
"Well, right now, I dont know where my home is. But in general its England."
Elrohir sent her a confused look; "England?"
Oh, right. Middle-Earth. "Uhm... across the sea...?"
"Oh..." he seemed content at that, but then; "Why did you leave?"
She blinked, but then let a small smirk tug on her lips, "Oh, well, I was often beaten, raped, given endless chores and lived in the attic, keeping company for the moth-eaten dust sheets that my mother made me lick clean. Everyday. I lived on bread on water, with only the rats for company and mountains of homework to complete everynight... Not to mention my evil stepsisters made me look after them and stole my glass slipper---" The astonished and appalled look on Elrohir's face caused her to trail off, trying desperately to surpress her laughter.
The elven twin opened and closed his mouth once or twice, which Caisha thought made him look like a rather impressive goldfish, before speaking, "By the Valar..."
She couldn't help it; she burst out laughing, and had to wait a while before the raking sobs of mirth subsided. She looked up, realising Elrohir was still looking at her; only he was confused and, frankly, looked quite scared at this point... Managing to get her laughter under control, she shook her head, grinning, "No, I'm joking... Sorry, it just seemed the right sort of Mary-Sue response I should give."
"Mary-Sue?"
"Y'know, all perfect girls. Blonde hair, violet eyes, experts with swords, bows and magic; always falls in love with one of the characters in a story, and saves near enough everyones lives more than once. Perfect body as well; all thin like, with big tits and wide hips. Always popular, always going out with the hottest guy in school, has the most friends, always has a tragic past, and turn out to be a half-elf..." she felt the tips of her ears selfconsciously- they stayed reassurringly smooth and round. Not the slightest hint of a point.
Elrohirs eyes widened, "That sounds... demonic."
Caisha chuckled, "Yea, I suppose it is. Same with Gary-Sues."
There was a long silence, and then Elrohir cautiously said; "But you're not a Mary Sue..."
"I know that, and you know that, but sometimes I get the feeling people are watching me..." she glanced around suspiciously, "and they might not know that. Its just it all seems so Mary-Sueish; falling into Middle Earth, meeting Frodo and the Fellowship... And you know what would just kill me the most? If someone like Legolas fell in love with me. That'd be the ultimate cliche ever." she shook her head with a grim humour, "I just want to go home."
"Dont you like it here?" she caught the flicker of hurt that passed over his face, and felt even more uncomfortable,
"Well, I do... But, you were born into this. You don't know anything else but this life... Me? I was no more born to weild a sword than write that essay due in for Mr Silkamon next week... I dont belong here. Its not my life. And I'm screwing up history no end by simply being here."
Elrohir frowned, "But, you are here... Thats not your fault."
"No, its not. But that doesent mean I'm not responsible for what I do here- with Elrond sending me with the Fellowship, we've already got Ten Walkers against Nine Riders. The ratio that bases the book is dead and rotting. There is no Tenth Walker. I shouldn't be here." Where did all that come from? Maybe Illyra had played the film one too many times... She seemed to be recalling things from it that she never even knew existed...
"Well, Lady Galadriel can help you sort this out..."
"I doubt it."
"And besides- now you're here, would you be able to just watch the Fellowship go off?"
"I suppose not... Why arent you coming?"
"I'm needed here."
"Oh..." Caisha trailed off, sliding the practice sword into her own belt, staring at him for a moment, before shaking her head. She retrieved the beautiful elven cloak from its perch on the wall, and slung it about her body- it was slightly grubby from its rest on the dusty stone, but she brushed off the worst of the damage and pulled the hood up over her hair- it was beginning to infuriate her. Everyday the blueness got lighter, as though the black dye she'd put over the top was being removed every time she washed her hair... She hoped that wasnt the case; facing down Sauron with bright bubblegum blue hair was not quiet the orc-kicking ass style she had in mind.
Elrohir watched her for a moment, his face expressionless; but then again, which elf's wasnt? Then he stood up, looking at her with the same amused mischeif in his face,
"Now thats the training done with... Would you like to visit the stables, Caisha?"
"Stables?" she brightened up immediately, "Really?"
"Yes."
"Hell yeah! Come on then, captaino Eldorado! Lead the way!"
He gave her a 'look' and she marvelled at the sceptisism maintained in it- it was worthy of her Grade B label, she decided.
"Very well, on one condition."
"Whats that then, capitano Eldorado?"
"You dont call me Eldorado..."
"Really?" she looked at him, "Fine. Fair enough, capitano."
"Or Capitano..."
"Righteo, General."
"Or General."
"If you say so, Sergeant."
"Or Sergeant."
"As you wish, sir."
"Caisha?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Shut up."
"Very good, sir."
He gave her another Grade B 'look'- she was impressed. She returned it with one of her own, holding his gaze- but she'd had years of practice glaring at the children from next door. He broke the gaze first and looked around. She grinned secretively,
"Lead the way then, sir."
He sighed, shaking his head at her before turning, leading the way out of the courtyard... After a while of walking side-by-side in steady silence, Caisha recieving the usual strange looks for her Nirvana tee shirt, she broke the comfortable quiet,
"One thing, sir?"
Another sigh- "What is it?"
"Can I have my mascara back?"
A long pause- "No."
"Oh."

------

She was in love. Hopelessly, definately, solidly, in love.
She gazed at the object of her heart's desire in awed silence, holding their gaze steadily, reaching out a hand to gently brush her fingers against their silken brown hair, following the faint trail of white hair that interrupted the pattern of their head...
Her hand suddenly snapped back, quicker than the jaws of the fine desterier steed she'd been stroking. His blunt teeth closed on thin air and, thwarted, he flattened his ears back and dragged his head up, glaring at her with disdain. She returned his look calmly, eyebrow raised,
"I know your tricks. Dont even think you can outsmart me."
The horse snorted, as though to express his disbelief. She just held the big brown gaze of the massive equine, steadily, like she had done with so many troublesome horses at Sparrows Creek- that was the stables where she rode every week. She didn't own her own horse, but she had been going to Sparrows Creek for so long and helping them every sunday all day long, as well as in the evenings after school some days, that she just as well owned the horses there. There was no particular magic to mastering a horse; you just had to show them who was boss...
She'd spent some time with Daniel, the stables trainer, and discovered all she needed to about horses- show them who was superior and you were halfway there... She didnt approve with Daniel using the whip whilst lungeing a horse, or the pressure halter, but she had to admit it was effective; the most aggresive horse was submissive by the time Daniel had worked them... Caisha, however, under estimated the horses of the elves; they were regal creatures, answering only to elven kins and not silly mortal girls... The massive liver chestnut desterier snapped at her again, and she narrowly avoided loosing a few fingers by pure instinct as she yanked her hand back from leaning on the stable door,
"Tetchy horse..." she muttered, still holding the horses gaze...
Leaning on the stall door of his own iron grey horse, who Caisha had learned was called Bregedur, meaning 'Wildfire', was Elrohir, watching with the usual signs of amusement,
"That there is Aerauth- means Holy War."
The liver chestnut beast snorted his agreement, stamping his hooves against the stone flooring of his stable, as though to emphasise the point. Elrohir just shook his head, with a small smile,
"He belongs to Elladan, though he doesent ride him anymore. Says that he's too mean spirited for a breeze- only rides him to battle."
Caisha gave a small whistle of knowing appretiation; so that accounted for the small scars on the horses muzzle and neck, as far as she could see... It would be almost impossible to control the massive horse on a normal hack anyway; he looked impatient, and no doubt fought bit and rein all the way. He also looked incredibly stubborn, the sort of horse who just looked at you and laughed in a horsey way. Living with the elves obviously affected him deeply; he carried the same Holier-than-Thou air which all freaky, pointy-eared folk around here treated her with. Except Elladan and Elrohir; they were different. They treated her like one of them, something she relished in. The two twins reminded her of Coal and Ryan, and soothed some of the homesickness in her heart...
"Only in battle?" she heard herself asking, looking over at Elrohir, evading Aerauth's reprimanding teeth yet again as he lashed out at her bruised collarbone- she tripped over the tilting saddle stand, complete with high-crouped and high-pomelled leather saddle, that was screwed tightly to the wooden wall of the stable, and managed to steady herself from falling by grabbing hold of the edge of Bregedur's stall door, besides Elrohir... He smiled down at her, cheekily,
"Yes. Aerauth is a bit... private. We tend to keep him seperate, even when we're off to battle. He likes his solitude..."
"I think I'll call him Fred- its easier." she muttered to herself, steadying herself securely on Bregedur's stable door. Yes, Fred was easier than whatever name Elladan had given the horse- Elrohir was doing that thing where he laughed silently, whilst looking sympathic and serious. Elves were so goddamn good at mastering their emotions- she envied them. He was speaking again, and she tuned into Middle Earth FM to listen properly,
"...for a ride?"
She blinked, and, after he realised she had once again not been paying attention, repeated himself,
"I said, would you like to take him for a ride? I'll come with you, on Bregedur... I think it will do you some good."
She stared at him, "But... you said... He was only ridden in battle?"
"Yes, but..." Elrohir's grey eyes found the liver chestnut desterier, who looked back sceptically, "He only gets exercise when he's let into the corral... He needs to be ridden- he's getting fat... And lazy."
"Uhm... but..." she blinked again, staring from Aerauth's defiant face to Elrohir's amused one, and scowled, "He'll kill me." she muttered... She wasnt afraid of horses, but there was something lurking in that desterier's eyes that meant he was a force to be reckoned with. She really didnt want to reckon with it...

Her protests hadn't worked. Elrohir had come with her to tack up, keeping the large steed from biting her as she did up his double girth -he'd taken a breathful of air that meant the girth wouldn't reach around him until she'd kneed him in the stomach, making him blow it out- and sorted out the running martingale-. The bridle was the worst part. She did it confidently, expertly, as she always did, but Fred was one of the horses that gritted his teeth against the metal S-ended bit, meaning she had to force her finger between the soft flesh of his lips and pry his mouth open to insert the bridle bit. She was very close to loosing her fingers, at that point.
So here she was, out in the stable courtyard, holding contact against the horses mouth with the double reins that Fred was often ridden with, watching Elrohir swing himself into the similar tilting saddle he'd tacked Bregedur up with... He moved with the confident grace and poise all elves bore so easily- he looked fantastic on the iron grey steed's back, and though he was dressed in a rough tunic, shirt and hose, she felt he looked regal enough to be riding to battle... She gently reined Fred's head in a bit more from where he'd been trying to bite Bregedur's shoulder, and looked at him expectantly- she was fully aware that she was not wearing a helmet, whilst riding a rather wild, ill-tempered war charger...
She was going to die.
"So, nothing big today, yea? Just trotting... Maybe a canter?" she asked Elrohir hopefully; the elven twin just grinned at her in that mischevious way, and made a non-commitmal shrug... She swore- he was probably conspiring with Legolas to get her killed... Yes, she could see it now- 'well, lord elrond, she cant go now. see, shes dead. couldn't hold on to the horse properly.' Very subtle. Very subtle, indeed...
"Fred..." she addressed the horse, who pinned an ear back disgustedly in response, "Can you please be nice? Pretty please? With carrots on top?"
She felt that this horse should not be subject to the usual dominant way in which she rode her horses, which was to listen to whilst commanding the horse- he'd probably chuck her if she tried that. But then again, he just snorted in what could be described as a typical horsey way of laughing, and she groaned inwardly; it seemed a lot of people wanted her dead. He'd chuck her anyway, at this rate... Elrohir just smirked over at her, urging Bregedur into a brisk trot, which Fred picked up on immediately, straining against the bit and rein eagerly, as Caisha'd suspected he'd do.
The ride was pleasant for the most part; Elrohir lead her on a winding trail through the forest boredering the Last Homely House, and she made sure Fred stayed close to him; she didn't fancy getting lost in there... Only, it seemed Fred did... He deliberately slowed down when they were about in the middle of the forest, so that Elrohir and Bregedur were a way up, and then yanked his head forward so suddenly the reins slid through her fingers, the coarse leather biting into the skin of her hands as it drove past- she tried desperately to regain control, but Fred was already picking up into a canter, carrying her to the right of the bewildering Elrohir and onto an invisible trail through the trees- she suspected Fred knew where he was going anyway, but she most definately did not, and could only continue to fight for control from the stubborn horse whilst trying to settle into the bumpy gait of the big horses canter and quell her rising panic. She heard Elrohir calling behind her, but couldnt hear exactly what and, even if she could, what the hell would she say? 'Its okay, I'm over here?' Instead, she just let out a rather embarrasing cry of;
"Elly, help me!"
And where was here? She made the idiotic mistake of twisting in the saddle, to try and see where Elrohir and Bregedur were in addition to herself; at that point, Fred broke into a full-on charge, bypassing gallop all together. Only the high-backed coup of the saddle prevented her falling from the massive steeds back as she was thrown back with the momentum. Letting out a strangled cry, she faced front again and managed to drag Aerauth's head back up with the reins, so that she could regain some control. Or maybe he let her, considering he probably knew what was coming next- a tree attacked, sending its thick branches down to meet her full on race through the forest. It hit with a vengeance.
The world went black. But just before she passed out, she heard the worrying sound of approaching feet; lots of feet. On the ground. Growing steadily louder. And her last thoughts were, simply; oh, fuck.

To Be Continued- I'm sorry it took so long, and its so... crappy o-0 I kinda wanted to set the bases of the romance in this chapter, so I dont think its that funny... Sorry again xO