Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. If I did, I would be an awful lot richer than I am now.

Warnings: Minor spoilers for the movie "The Fellowship of the Ring"

Greetings, readers, and welcome to my latest attempt at telling the tale of the fellowship in Rivendell! Thank you so much to all you wonderful reviewers; your words are much appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 3: Little Hobbit Lost

Pippin sighed. He was lost. Granted, he was lost in a beautiful elven sanctuary, but the fact of it remained, he was still lost. The young hobbit was currently wandering down a long hallway upon whose walls hung silken banners filled with scenes of glorious warriors, merry hunting parties and beautiful maidens. Often a flowing but indecipherable script trailed across the hangings, leaving the ever-curious Pippin to wonder what tales it concealed.

Carved wooden doorways branched off the hallway at regular intervals, open as often as not and thus inviting one as curious as Pippin to investigate the room within. The doors which were closed, however, proved even more enticing. Although hesitant, not to mention slightly nervous about intruding upon the home of an elven lord, Pippin peeked behind more than a few of these doors, reasoning that after all, doors were meant to be opened. Behind one he saw a great library with piles of manuscripts and books reaching high towards the sweeping ceiling. Behind another he glimpsed strange looking instruments reaching over the balcony, towards the early morning sky.

He continued on his way, trotting down countless passageways and through innumerable chambers, enjoying the feel of the soft carpet which sunk under his feet, but beginning to despair of ever finding his way out. Finally he spied the shadowy form of someone in front of him, an elf he thought, judging by their graceful strides, and hurried forward hoping that whoever it was could lead him to an exit, and preferably to breakfast. Gaining on his rescuer, he recognised the long blonde hair of Legolas, Strider's friend. Pleased that he wouldn't be faced with the daunting prospect of facing an unknown elf, he hurried to catch up only to see the prince open a door on the right of the corridor and enter the pitch-black room beyond. Reaching the doorway he found that the elf had disappeared in the darkness, but then a burst of morning light illuminated the scene as a heavy velvet drape was drawn back, revealing what looked to be a bedroom. The floor was strewn with numerous items, creating a lumpy path to a large bed in the middle of the room, upon which a pile of blankets was heaped. About to enter and ask Legolas if he could show him the way to wherever breakfast was being served, Pippin hesitated as the pile of blankets emitted a soft groan. Curious, the hobbit remained at the entrance to the room, half-hidden behind the door.

"Good morning, Estel!" exclaimed the elf prince as he drew back a second drape and turned to face the bed.

Another groan was all the response he received. Undaunted, Legolas dropped down onto the mattress, which, Pippin was curious to see, barely shifted under his weight.

"Estel?"

Silence.

"Estel, it is morning. It is time to rise."

More silence. The elf extended one elegant finger and gingerly prodded the pile of blankets. When that did not elicit a response the prince examined the mound on the bed carefully, then reached forward and gave it a sharp poke somewhere towards the middle. The blankets shifted with a slight grunt but quickly subsided once more. Sensing that victory was near, the elf gave the mound another, harder poke, this time producing a muffled yelp and a lot more movement as the blankets shifted again, peeling back to reveal a dishevelled looking ranger who blinked up blearily at his friend.

"Good morning, Estel!" the elf tried again with a bright smile.

Strider merely gave his friend an incredulous stare before pulling the covers back over his head and rolling over in the opposite direction to the annoying figure on the side of his bed.

The elf decided to try a different tactic. "Aragorn, if you do not get up right now, I shall fetch your brothers, and you know as well as I that their methods of waking someone are far less pleasant than mine!"

Pippin blinked. Aragorn? But he was soon distracted from the thought that Strider had yet another name as a muffled growl sounded from underneath the blankets.

"This is the first time in at least six months that I have slept in a proper bed. It is the first time in at least six years that I have slept in my own bed. I do not intend to rise any earlier than is absolutely necessary."

Having mustered his strength to utter these words, the ranger again subsided and not even another poke from Legolas had any effect to rouse him. Pippin watched, still hidden behind the door, as the elf stood back from the bed, seemingly perplexed as to how he would wake his friend. A sudden, decidedly evil smile appeared on his fair face and he retreated to a safe distance, still smiling, and opened his mouth.

"ORCS! Ambush!"

Pippin jumped, startled out of his wits and glanced behind him frantically, half-expecting to see a horde of orcs rushing towards him. The shout had greater effect on the ranger, who leapt from his soft, warm bed, clutching a knife he had seized from a nearby table. Urgently shaking off the dredges of sleep, Strider scanned the surrounding vicinity of his bedroom, but the only orc in sight was that which had awakened him. Undaunted, the ranger proceeded to advance on said orc, brandishing his knife dangerously. A feral look was in his eyes as he stalked his prey, which had begun to back away hastily.

"Estel, what are you doing with that knife?"

"Is it not obvious? I am hunting orcs, or at least a certain orc who has blonde hair, is curiously enough the prince of an elven realm and who is about to lose his right arm for waking an extremely tired ranger from his extremely pleasant sleep."

"Estel, I need that arm."

"And I need my sleep. It's a fair trade."

"No it's not," the elf protested, hurriedly ducking a blow aimed in his direction.

"You are right." The elf relaxed slightly, only to tense again at the man's next words. "My sleep is worth two arms."

"My father will not be pleased if you remove me of my arms. He would surely attack Imladris. You would not risk open war with Mirkwood?"

Pippin watched in fascination as the two, a prince of the elves and a grim, dangerous ranger circled the room, the former taking the occasional leap over the bed to avoid the advancing human.

"What are you looking at, Pippin?"

Startled, the young hobbit nearly let out a yell but managed to muffle it and shush Merry, who had approached behind him, at the same time. Silently he pointed inside the room and Merry's eyes widened as he saw Strider apparently about to attack Legolas with a knife for the second time in as many days. As they watched, the elf seized a pillow and launched it at the man in an attempt to ward off his attacker, but the ranger simply dodged and continued to advance.

"It was necessary, mellon nin," Legolas reasoned somewhat desperately, ducking another swing. "The council is today and your presence is required. And I imagine that it would be to your and everyone else's advantage if you were awake!"

"The council." Strider halted in his attempts to dismember his friend and dropped onto his bed dejectedly. Deeming that it was safe to approach, Legolas perched on the very edge of the bedstead, ready for flight and a sufficient distance from the man to avoid any blows directed his way. However, the ranger did not even glance in his direction, instead staring at the floor as he turned the knife over and over in his hands. "I had almost forgotten."

"I thought as much," replied Legolas dryly. When Strider did not respond the elf edged closer to his friend, recognising that the human's mind had become occupied with heavier matters.

"I have long dreaded this, Legolas. I have often hoped that it would not come about during my lifetime." The ranger's words were quiet and the hobbits had to strain to hear him.

Wanting to hear more, yet slightly uncomfortable at the thought of listening to the obviously private conversation between the two friends, Pippin tugged Merry away from the door by his sleeve. "Should we be listening to this?" he whispered.

"If we leave now they'll be sure to hear us," replied Merry. "No, it's best that we stay until we can slip away unnoticed."

Pippin nodded, pleased with his friend's response and both hobbits eagerly edged closer to the door, listening intently but making sure that they remained hidden from view.

"You are not alone in this," Legolas was saying. "There are many who will support you whatever path you choose, you know that."

"It is not the strength of my friends which I doubt." Strider's tone was bitter and the two hobbits outside the room stared at each other, surprised at the emotion behind the words.

The elf however, almost seemed to be expecting them. "You are not bound to the fate of those who came before you, Estel. You will face the same evil and you will defeat it."

Looking at his friend, the elf was surprised to see a small smile tinting his face, easing the weathered creases on the man's brow. "What is it?"

"Arwen said those very words to me last night," said the ranger softly.

"We had wondered where you were," the elf replied, and a smile lit his face also. "Elladan and Elrohir had a wager going."

Strider chuckled. "I would expect no less from the sons of Elrond."

"Of which you are one," Legolas reminded him.

"Not by blood."

"No. By choice. And that is worth just as much, if not more."

The smile on the man's face deepened as he looked to his friend, clasping his shoulder in silent thanks. Quiet descended for a brief moment as the elf returned the gesture, but it was soon broken by the man's rough voice.

"Who won?"

"I did. Remind me to thank Arwen, for she has won me a new dagger."

"Where is my thanks?" demanded the ranger in jest. "I played just as much of a role in your victory as did Arwen!"

"True," replied his friend. "Yet Arwen did not just attempt to attack me with a knife."

"You deserved it," said the ranger evenly as he laid the blade down on the nearby table and swung his long legs onto the bed, lying back amongst the many cushions that decorated its surface.

Turning to face the open window from his position on the end of the man's bed, Legolas crossed his legs beneath him, humming softly as he watched the leaves on the trees outside dance gracefully in the light morning breeze. The ranger closed his eyes, enjoying the soothing sound of his friend's song.

The two remained as such for many minutes and Pippin began to feel hunger pangs plaguing the hole where his stomach should have been. He tugged on Merry's sleeve once again but the other hobbit resisted, still peering into the room. Just as Pippin was about to give up on his cousin and venture out in search of breakfast by himself, the elf spoke.

"I had the opportunity to talk with the hobbits last night after supper."

"Did you?" the ranger replied, playing with the corner of one of his blankets.

"They told me of the Shire. It sounds a beautiful place."

"It is."

"They also mentioned your little trip from Bree."

"Indeed?"

Pippin thought that Strider sounded slightly nervous.

Legolas, still looking out of the window, went on. "Pippin in particular told me of something I found most interesting."

"Really?" The man's voice was slightly higher than usual.

"He said that you fought a Nazgul single-handedly."

"Nay," Strider protested. "I did no such thing."

Merry turned to Pippin, who returned the look, puzzled. Searching the haze of memories which made up that terrifying night, the image of the ranger emerging from the darkness wielding both sword and flame and forcing the creatures away from he and his friends, was amongst the clearest to Pippin. Apparently Legolas was also somewhat dubious of his friend's claim, for his eyebrows had risen in surprise.

"I find it hard to believe that Pippin is one who would lie," the price said, and the listening hobbit's chest swelled in pride. "I also doubt that he would have imagined seeing something as memorable as that. Not to mention that Frodo carries a wound made by a Mordor blade."

"Pippin did not lie."

Legolas waited for Strider to continue, but when no words seemed to be forthcoming he questioned the man further.

"You did fight one of the Nazgul then?"

"Not precisely." The ranger paused, then, seeing the elf's expectant look, continued reluctantly. "There was more than one," he mumbled.

"There was more than one," repeated the elf flatly.

"Yes." Strider nodded, and apparently deciding that the conversation had reached its end, moved to curl back up under his many blankets. The prince however, was not ready to let the subject rest just yet and pulled the blankets back from over the man's head.

"You fought more than one ringwraith by yourself."

"Five."

"Five ringwraiths."

"Yes."

The elf nodded, a little too calmly, thought Pippin. Thus, when the usually soft-spoken elf exploded, he was not altogether surprised.

"By the Valar, Estel, of all the foolish things which you have done in your life, that must rank among the highest!"

"What else was I to do?" the ranger protested, sitting up defensively. "I could not let them take the hobbits. They had already wounded Frodo!"

About to argue, Legolas stopped abruptly as he realised the truth of the man's words. The ranger lay back down, satisfied that he had proven his point.

A sudden mischievous gleam lit the prince's eyes. "Have your brothers been informed of your little adventure as of yet?"

"Not the precise details, no."

"Would those be the details concerning exactly how many of Sauron's most terrible creatures you confronted at one time, by yourself, might I add."

The man nodded suspiciously.

"It would be interesting to see how they reacted," remarked the elf thoughtfully.

Strider raised his head from the cushion upon which it rested. "You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Legolas…" The man's tone was half-warning, half-pleading and the elf relented with a merry laugh.

"Do not fear, I shall not be the one to tell them. Yet you are not to blame me if they find out one day from another source, for I believe that the hobbits were quite impressed with your skills with a sword, not to mention your outstanding bravery, or what I prefer to call inconceivable foolishness."

"Hopefully I will pass from this world long before that day comes." The man's tone was joking, yet there was an abrupt silence within the room which startled the listening hobbits.

"Legolas?"

"Do not." The elf's voice had become tense, losing some of its musical tones.

"Do not what?" the ranger asked, puzzled.

"Do not joke about such things."

The human's eyes widened slightly in understanding. Once again his voice was soft and the hobbits had to strain their ears to hear.

"You know that I will die someday, mellon nin," said the ranger carefully.

"Iston," replied the elf. "But I do not wish to think of that day for many years to come."

"Legolas…"

"No, Aragorn. One day you will leave me and there is nothing that either of us, that anyone, not even the Valar themselves, can do to prevent it. You will die. The time of the elves will fade, is fading even now as my kin pass over the sea, and you will not be there."

"It is not my choice, mellon nin."

"I know that," said the elf, more harshly than he intended. "But you are mortal, you grow, age and die. I do not. I live." Suddenly the elf turned to Aragorn in remorse, realising how his words must have sounded to his human friend, one who shared his life with so many of the elven kindred, who had given his heart to an immortal. "Forgive me, Estel. I speak of this when I have no business to do so. I think of myself when you are the one who will-" Legolas stopped, unsure of how to continue and unwilling to meet the man's silver-grey eyes.

His friend however, had no such qualms. Gently he raised his fingers and lifted the other's chin, asking him to meet his gaze, and the elf reluctantly did so. "It is your business, Legolas. Do not ever think that it is not. I am mortal. I know that. The day will come when I will leave these shores, whether I wish it or not. It is the fate of all men."

"I do not want you to die."

"Nor do I wish it for you, Legolas. Yet we are both warriors, are we not?"

The elf gave a slight nod of his head, realising where the man was headed.

"And as a warrior you know that each time either one of us goes into battle there is the chance that we will not return."

The elf stood from the bed and moved agitatedly to the large window from which light was streaming into the room. For several moments he watched the sun now rising above the treetops, then twisted round abruptly to face the ranger still sitting on the bed. "But for you death is a certainty!" he replied, almost angrily. "No matter how skilled you are in battle. Does that not bother you?"

"Of course it does! Not a day passes that I do not think of the day when I must leave my family, leave you and Arwen, but I cannot live my life despairing of that one moment when my soul leaves Middle-earth!"

The man's swift, heated answer seemed to startle the elf and he turned back towards the window, away from his friend. Seeing that his words had shaken the elf, with whom he rarely broached this subject, if it was broached at all, Strider stood to his feet and approached his friend. "Legolas. Look at me." The elf turned slowly and the hobbits were shocked and slightly scared at the mix of emotions burning in the bright blue orbs. Anger was there, but also grief, and, deeper, fear.

The ranger began again, more calmly. "I do not fear death, Legolas. I fear leaving those whom I love, but I will not do so today, and hopefully will not do so for many a year. As I said, I cannot, I will not, live my life fearing that which I know must come. But it has not come yet and that is what matters."

"I still do not wish you to die," the elf responded stubbornly, folding his arms, but the furious mix of emotions was fading from his eyes, replaced by their usual blue light which was echoed in the smile tinging his lips, and Aragorn knew that the elf understood. Although the subject had not been forgotten, it had been laid to rest, for the moment at least. A smirk began to work its way across the ranger's face as he sat back down on his bed.

"If it helps, mellon nin, I swear to you that I will do my best to see you killed before that day comes to pass."

"Estel!"

"Nay Legolas, I am serious. No longer will I save you in every battle in which we fight. No longer will I slay the last orc about to plunge its blade into your unguarded back, whilst you, completely oblivious to the danger, tease a certain ranger about the state of his clothing; something which I am sure only happened, mind you, because said ranger had to put his own life and his clothes in jeopardy to save said elf-"

"I do not require saving." The prince's eyes had hardened once more, but the anger in them was not at all reminiscent of the fear-filled fury of the past minutes, but rather an proud gleam also tinted with humour. Legolas drew himself up stiffly to face the grinning ranger.

"Surely you are not still under the delusion that you would have survived our last trip to Mirkwood together if I had not killed that last goblin?" the ranger enquired disbelievingly.

"That was different."

"Why?"

"I was unconscious."

"Exactly."

"What is it you mean by 'exactly'? If I had been aware of my surroundings I would have been perfectly able to defend myself!"

"But you were not, and thus did require saving," argued the ranger triumphantly.

"I was only unconscious because-" Legolas halted abruptly.

"Only because what, mellon nin?" When the elf did not answer, the ranger supplied his friend's words gleefully. "Because you had been knocked out by your previous opponent?"

A loud thud and a yelp from the ranger was the only answer.

"I still saved you," Strider muttered from his position on the floor beside his bed.

A comfortable silence descended between the two friends as the ranger climbed back onto the bed and submerged himself once again in his pile of blankets. It was broken only by two words.

"Human."

"Elf."

At the door, Merry and Pippin looked at each other, somewhat baffled. When no further conversation seemed to be forthcoming, Merry shrugged and set off down the corridor with Pippin trailing behind. After they had left, an amused voice sounded.

"It is strange. For such talkative creatures, the hobbits can be quite quiet when they wish."

Silence.

"Estel?"

There was a slight grunt.

"You really do need to get up."

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A good while later, Merry sighed. He was lost. Granted, he was lost in a beautiful elven sanctuary, but the fact of it remained, he was still lost. There was a sound from behind him and he turned to look at Pippin, who had a frown on his face and a hand on his stomach.

"Merry?"

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

TBC

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Mellon nin- my friend

Iston- I know

Nazgul- ringwraith

Thanks for reading everyone and please review, I love to hear what people think. Again, replies to reviews have been emailed when possible, so if you want one, please make sure I can reach you! Bye for now!