Ch-2 Rating: PG

Chapter 2 – A Beginning

"We cannot linger here further. Orcs will return in greater numbers," Aragorn spoke with a renewed sense of urgency. "We all ride to Edoras, and wisdom would have us travel together. Where is your horse?" he asked Dèorwyn, worried it may have run off – or been slaughtered.

Looking over her shoulder, she pursed her lips and produced a shrill whistle. Breaking from the cover of a large thicket on the other side of the stream, a chestnut mare answered the summons of her rider. "The beasts came upon us as I was dismounting. Aredhel shied and threw me," she confessed, clearly embarrassed to admit she had suffered such an indignity. Crossing the water, the horse slowed her pace and walked up to Dèorwyn, affectionately demanding a caress upon her muzzle.

She patted the mare's neck and stood on tiptoe to whisper something in her ear. Aredhel simply snorted and tossed her head. "Willful horse," Dèorwyn gave her a final pat and reached to remove a leather bag hanging from her saddle. "I have a need to fill my waterskin before traveling further," she said before ducking behind a wall of the house, headed to the stream.

The next several minutes found Aragorn in anxious motion, wiping Anduril clean then checking the tack on all the horses. Legolas had retrieved his arrows and now stood leaning against a wall, watching Gimli pace as he aimlessly swung his axe in time with his steps. The Dwarf looked again in the direction Dèorwyn had taken. "What takes a lady so long to fill a waterskin?" he grumbled.

"I will see what is keeping her," Legolas offered, the anxiety of the Man and the Dwarf beginning to affect him as well.

As he rounded the corner of the house, he saw her kneeling beside the stream with her tunic pulled away from her left shoulder. She was rinsing blood from her upper arm, but each time she splashed water, more blood returned.

Fearing the worst, Legolas ran to her side. "You have been struck by an Orc blade!" The foul poison used on their weapons would already be coursing through her. He cursed himself that his arrow had not been swift enough.

She looked up to him and shook her head, but did not stop her ministrations. "'Tis but a small scratch caused by the fall from my horse."

He knelt to examine her wound, his brow creasing with concern at the raw edges and free flow of blood. "That is more than a scratch. Aragorn is a skilled healer. I will send him to you."

"No!" Dèorwyn grasped his arm and held him beside her. "There is no time for the brewing of herbs. I shall bind this to stop the bleeding and tend to it once we reach Edoras."

Her gaze captured and held his; gone were her suspicion and fear. The dark green eyes that now appealed to him were honest, and filled with an innocence that reminded him of the Hobbits. The halflings had laid claim to his affection and devotion through their lack of deceit; this woman might easily do the same.

Far more intriguing to him was the feeling of…familiarity. It was as if he had looked into these same eyes hundreds of times – he knew exactly what lay behind them.

Legolas reluctantly looked away and nodded toward the pouch where she had removed fabric to bind her arm. "You are trained as a healer?" he asked, recognizing the herbs and tools within.

"Not trained," Dèorwyn gave a rueful smile, "but I believe I have learned just enough to keep my wounds hidden from my uncle."

As she turned to the struggle of bandaging her arm, Legolas reached to still her efforts. Covering her hand with his own, he felt her flinch at the unexpected touch. "I will do that for you," he soothed. Working gently to cover her wound, his eyes wandered to her bare skin. Her smooth, pale shoulder was already showing evidence of the bruise she would have as a result of her fall.

Legolas sat back on his heels to inspect his handiwork, but found himself studying more than her bandaged arm. Gathering her belongings, Dèorwyn's tunic slid a little further down her arm, offering a hint of the curves beneath. Uneasy at his reaction to her, Legolas stood and glanced toward the house where the others awaited. "We should go," he said, extending his hand to her. Wincing as she pulled the tunic over her shoulder, she refastened it and accepted his offer of assistance.

"Hannon le," she shyly thanked him as they headed back toward the horses.

"Gellam nîn. You speak Elvish?" Legolas asked, surprised but oddly pleased to hear the words from her.

She gave a small shrug. "Regrettably, I know only the courtesies."

"Perhaps you will learn a bit more ere we reach Edoras," he smiled quietly, wondering why it seemed important to him.

Upon their approach, Gimli raised his arms in exaggerated relief and complained his frustration. "Finally! It must be a large waterskin to take two people and so much time to fill."

Dèorwyn's sidelong glance at Legolas warned against any discussion of her injury. She tied off her leather bag and prepared to mount, abruptly changing the subject. "So, what of your friends? The two you sought at Fangorn?"

"We did not come upon them. They had already met Gandalf who saw to their safety," Legolas casually replied while assisting Gimli climb into the saddle.

"Gandalf! The wizard who is known as Gray Pilgrim?" she exclaimed, delight brightening her eyes.

"You know Gandalf?" Gimli looked to her. The distraction broke his concentration and, losing his balance, he fell back to the ground. "Miserable beasts!" he cursed the horses while scowling at the Elf's attempt to bite back a smile.

Turning her head and suddenly intent on her horse's bridle, Dèorwyn choked down her laughter before speaking. "It has been many years since he last visited Edoras, I was still a girl," she recalled. "He…indulged a spoiled child. For that I will ever consider him a friend."

"We meet up with him in two days before entering Edoras," Aragorn told her while settling himself on Hasufel. He looked around at the group to be sure all were ready to ride. They had lost too much time – he would lead them for many hours before their next rest.

Continued…