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III III III

In the morning Anne saw that the grove they were in was little more than a small cluster of gnarled and weather-beaten trees, and appeared to be an outlier of the great wood that now lay behind them. Before them stretched wide grass-lands and heather-covered slopes, dotted with brambles and clumps of trees here and there. There was a greenish-brown line that wound its way from north to south, sometimes disappearing behind hills or beneath small copses: The river Anduin. The lands before them, so Anne had learned from Delior, were called the Vales of Anduin. Although from the place she was standing now, the country looked like a series of many small hollows and little hills, it was really one single and very long valley, which ran along the river from its source in the north to the Bay of Belfalas in the south and stretched for several thousand miles.

Further to the west, the land seemed to become more hilly, the colours changing to a hazy brown, dark green, and, every now and then, the slate grey of bare rock. Beyond the hills, looming against the pale sky, Anne could see the mountain chain – tall, dark and forbidding.

It was still very early, and mists lay thick in hollows and in small valleys, yet it did not look like they would be any more fortunate with the weather than they had been during the previous days. The air was cool and smelled of rain. Nevertheless, it was nice to see the horizon again, Anne thought as she packed away her bedroll and furs, while gazing at the mountains every now and then.

She had slept surprisingly well, despite the lack of a warming fire, and now felt a lot better and much more rested than she had for the last couple of days. She actually was looking forward to getting back in the saddle again. First, however, there was a bit of a problem that needed solving. Anne really wanted to change her clothes before they headed off, and she had no mind to get undressed in front of Delior (again), if it could be avoided.

The meagre, crooked trees did not exactly provide a lot of privacy. There were a few bushes about, but they were so sparsely foliated that they offered little visual cover either. Indeed Anne had snuck behind one of those in the very early (and thus still dark) hours of the morning, when she had been left with no choice. Doing it in broad daylight, however, was quite a different matter.

Anne sighed and looked over at Delior who had gathered some wood and pinecones and the like, and was now piling them up in a small hollow. Considering how keen the elf's sight appeared to be even in the middle of the darkest night, it probably mattered little what she did and when or where she did it. Not that she suspected him to try and catch a glimpse of her - he did not exactly seem the type. Truth be told, she did not even suspect him to be tempted to do so. After all, he had, on more than one occasion, told her in no uncertain terms that he had absolutely no interest in her in that regard. Anne was, rather illogically perhaps, still slightly irked by the memory of that first conversation with him, or the time when he had shown her where she could take a bath.

He did not have to be quite so disdainful in his remarks, did he? Not that she wanted him to… want anything, but it was the principle of the matter. Whatever he thought of her puny, mortal appearance - rubbing it in every chance he was presented with was not the gentlemanly thing to do. Well, to be fair, perhaps he did not exactly rub it in, but he could make an effort to appear a tiny bit less… incurious.

Anne was sure, if she were to start wandering about naked his reaction would probably consist of frowning and telling her to put on some clothes, so as not to catch 'one of those tedious, mortal diseases'. It was a good thing she did not care. Why did she even think about it then, she reprimanded herself. No doubt her hormones were getting the better of her, but at least she could wish that particular inconvenience good riddance in a couple of days.

In the meantime, she had no choice but to handle this as best as she possibly could. During her first visit behind the bushes this morning, she had pondered a little on the uncomfortable question of how to deal with her used cloths. At last, she reluctantly chose to just bury them. Anne was well aware that, if she kept doing that, she would run out of disposable cloth at some point, but right now there simply was no other option. Even if there had been a stream or a pond nearby and she thus had been able to wash out the rags, she would have no means of drying them. She could only hope that they would soon come across some sort of running (and sheltered) water, since her clothes and especially her underwear needed washing as well. Once they had arrived in Bree she might find someone female who could perhaps advise her on how to deal with this a little better.

Discussing it with the Elf was of course absolutely out of the question. Anne briefly pictured herself doing just that, and sniggered at the thought of his lofty visage falling, his eyes widening … perhaps he would even cringe. It might well be worth the embarrassment on her part.

On the other hand, he might just as well remain completely unfazed and - heaven forbid - launch into some lengthy and typically male, practical advice on the matter.

Anne stopped sniggering immediately and glanced over at Delior, who, at this moment, happened to look up from the pile of dead sticks and cones he was trying to ignite.

She hurriedly turned her back on him before he could ask her what she was giggling about.

Back to the problem at hand. In fact, now, since he was busy with the fire…

Anne cast another glance in Delior's direction; he was once more bent over the pile of wood.

'Now or never,' she thought. Grabbing her bags, she scurried over to one of the larger bushes and then quickly hid behind it. Better she got this over with now, while he was occupied with something else.

By now Anne had a fairly good idea of how much he perceived from his surroundings, even at times when he did not seem to pay a lot of attention to it. She rightly guessed that he was completely aware of what was going on behind him, and her hiding behind bushes therefore pointless, yet she felt that she should at least maintain a pretence of decency and dignity. In any case, this was better than having him standing with his back to her and waiting, tapping his foot or making impatient noises.

So, while keeping an eye on the Elf's bent back (though it had to be said that he did not even once lift his head), Anne quickly stripped off the travel-worn clothes and then just stood there for a moment, relishing the feeling of the cool, clean air on her skin.

As she pulled out spare garments from her bag, she became aware that she was yet again in dire need for a bath, or at least a proper wash. Until they came across a stream, neither was a possibility of course. The only other option would have been to use their drinking water. Anne did not even want to imagine what Delior's reaction would be if she tried anything like that. Although, judging from how often he had turned up with wet hair while they were still at the cave, he probably craved a bath nearly as much as she did.

Thinking about it, she suddenly realised that – even if they soon came to a river - now that they were out of the wood, it would be rather difficult to find a spot that was screened enough to have some privacy. Furthermore, Anne was afraid that Delior would not care much about privacy - which made her dread the prospect even more. Perhaps she should make sure to have him warn her before he disrobed while she was anywhere in the near vicinity. She did not, of course, suspect the Elf to do something like that out of lasciviousness, but rather because she was so insignificant to him. After all, there was no cave here where he could conveniently command her to stay, while he was going about his 'business', and she could not really imagine him acting all bashful and asking her to leave for a bit, so he could undress and take a bath.

Surely he would not just strip down in front of her if it could be avoided, but somehow Anne did not think that he would be terribly bothered if she got an accidental glimpse of him (even if she might mind).

Anne sighed, and while closing the last button on the neck of her tunic, she decided that she was once again getting ahead of her own problems (which were, admittedly, not as dramatic as all that), and that she would just have to cross that bridge when she came to it.

When she, clad in clean clothes, came out from behind the bushes, she found that Delior had somehow managed to kindle a fire. He looked up and beckoned to her, before turning back to the small kettle he had hung over the fire pit, pouring some water into it from one of the bottles. When Anne reached him he handed her a small knife and told her to cut up the vegetables.

"'Vegetables?'" Anne asked as she took the knife from him, sure she must have misheard.

The elf pointed at a piece of cloth spread out on the ground next to him. Laid out on it were a couple of shrivelled yellowish roots, something that looked like some sort of turnip, and two reddish-brown, apple-sized balls.

"You want to cook something? Now?" Anne picked up one of the brown, round things; its skin was rough, pebbled and slightly chapped like old tree bark.

"We may not find wood dry enough to make a fire tonight," Delior replied and looked for a moment at the western sky. "Hithaeglir is hiding its many heads. It will rain again."

Anne followed his glance towards the mountains whose peaks were cloaked by heavy clouds. 'Wonderful,' she thought gloomily. 'If this goes on I will soon have no dry clothes left.'

At least, it appeared that they were going to have a warm meal for the first time in almost a week. The 'vegetables' did not look mouth-watering exactly, but Anne just hoped that she could trust Delior to know what he was doing. She sat down next to him and took the turnip, which looked like it would be easiest to work on, and began to try and remove the skin. Delior, who had been poking around in the fire, looked up and, upon seeing what she was doing, he waved a hand at her.

"There is no need to peel it," he said, once he had her attention. "The skin is edible. Just slice it into as thin of pieces as possible. Although I fear that it might pass my skill to coax this damp heap to burn hot enough for a meal to turn half agreeable." Delior peered into the somewhat feeble flames and then into the kettle, frowning slightly. "It cannot be helped. It is a pity that there never is a dwarf around when one is in desperate need of their service," he muttered.

"A dwarf?" Anne asked surprised.

"It is said that they can make a fire almost anywhere, and out of almost anything. Please hand me those if you are done with them."

"Should we not first wash these?" Anne doubtfully examined the roots that she had picked up next, and then waved it at him.

"I washed them before I packed them. You may scrape off those dry spots as well, if you can manage it without cutting off too much of the flesh. And try not to cut yourself either," he added with a doubtful look at the way she held the root close to her face and started attacking it.

Anne rolled her eyes, though she made sure that he did not see it. "Understood. And I have handled a knife before, by the way. I helped quite a bit in the kitchen of the Rolling Barrel in Ecthel, and I did my fair share of potato peeling too, if you want to know."

"Not particularly," the Elf said, but his tone was mellow and without derision.

Anne returned to her slicing with another roll of her eyes, though she thought she had caught the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly, just now. She had just taken one of the strange brown vegetables when Delior spoke again.

"While you were in Ecthel, did you meet a woman by the name of Nesta, daughter of the house of Núneldor?"

Anne looked up at him in astonishment. "Nesta? Yes, of course! Well, I would not know her family's name, but I know a woman named Nesta from the Inn. She was one of those who…" But Anne could not finish the sentence. She had been meaning to say "one of those who stayed behind", but somehow the words got stuck in her throat.

"She was one of those I shared a room with during my stay there," she said instead, carefully keeping her gaze on the Elf's hands. "And she was most kind to me."

Anne watched as Delior's hand paused midway from shoving another stick into the fire, and when she glanced up at his face she found that he was looking at her searchingly. She quickly lowered her eyes to his hands once more. She did not last long, however, and after a few seconds she looked up at him again, not able to overcome her curiosity.

"Why do you ask? Do you know her?"

His eyes held hers for a brief moment, before he answered, dropping his gaze back to the fire.

"No, I do not know her. I knew her father."

Anne frowned. "You knew her fa-" then she caught on and quickly closed her mouth. "So … he was not from Ecthel?" she finally asked.

"No," he said after a moment. "He was one of the descendants from the Men of Westernesse. I doubt that he ever set foot into the village."

There was something final in the way he said this, and Anne knew that he did not wish to speak of it any more. She fell silent and went back to her work, while wondering if it had been Nesta's mother who had taken her to Ecthel, and what might have happened to her.

:::

The vegetable stew turned out to be a lot better than what Anne had expected, and she felt strengthened and refreshed when they set off. They had not eaten all of it, and Delior had filled the rest into a few of the empty bottles to take it with them.

They made their way steadily westwards now, as far as Anne could tell, although the mountains did not seem to draw any nearer during this day's march, nor during the next. To Anne's great discontent Delior had been right about his assessment on the weather as well as on the fire-making, and for three nights in a row, they had nothing but cold supper and breakfast, and were forced to make camp in the dark and with no means to warm themselves up or to dry their damp clothes. Although the rain remained a light drizzle, and sometimes would stop for a couple of hours, Anne began to feel like there was no dry spot left on her body.

They talked little when they settled down in the evening, but since Anne was still getting used to riding for long hours with only short breaks, she was usually so exhausted that she did not mind the Delior's reticence all that much. During days she had to concentrate on the riding itself, especially at the times when her companion decided for them to trot or even canter whenever the area allowed it. They never did that for very long, as the ground was marshy in some places, and also not to tire the horses too fast.

To her surprise, Anne found that while cantering, it was much easier to sit still and match her horse's rhythm. Sometimes, Delior would let Dûrfang fall back, until they were riding side by side, which the smaller horse did not seem to like very much. Delior then would explain to Anne how to use her thighs and weight shift to keep the animal from simply halting or trying to stay behind Dûrfang. He also would correct her seating every now and then, and he showed her how to hold the reins properly. Bit by bit, Anne developed a sense for how to keep a consistent but gentle feel on her horse's mouth.

She also decided that she had to give him a name after all, but could not really think of anything suitable. In the end, she asked Delior what the equivalent for 'patch' or 'spot' would be in his tongue. It turned out that there were several words with slightly varying meanings, and the most fitting one seemed to be 'peg'. Therefore 'Peg' was the skewbald's name from thereon.

On the afternoon of the second day after they had left the great forest, they reached the eastern bank of the river. Anne found her worst fears realised, for there were almost no trees or shrubbery about at this section of it. The pebbly ground fell slightly towards the riverbed, but not very steeply. A bit of fern and high grasses grew on the river-bank, two or three slender birches and a lot of thistles and nettles – and that was it.

This could get very interesting, Anne thought, far from pleased. She was sure that Delior would not want to linger about for too long, which meant that she probably had only a couple of hours to make up her mind. However, for now at least, she was given some respite as Delior told her that they should cross the river first and then make camp on the western bank.

The riverbed was broad here, but the current slow enough for them to ride through it. They dismounted to lead the horses down the slope, but got back on them for the actual crossing. Anne was astonished that Peg seemed to mind walking into the water much less than Dûrfang. While obediently following Delior's gentle spurring, the stallion held his head as high as possible and puffed and snorted with his ears pinned back.

At the deepest spot, the water reached the horses' chests, so their riders could even avoid getting wet feet. When they reached the opposite bank Dûrfang made a leap out of the water and onto the bank, which, Anne was sure, would have hauled her right into the river.

After seeing to the horses, Delior said that they had better wash their things and bath now; it would take some time to dry the clothes, and they probably would even need a fire for that.

Anne's nerves began to build at his mentioning of bathing, but she nodded glumly and went to gather her laundry. Washing the clothes in the river was rather hard work and Anne somehow managed to get the clothes she was wearing nearly as wet as those she was trying to get clean. What was more, the water was bone-chilling cold; that was probably to be expected, but it still shocked her and made the prospect of having to dive into it even less inviting.

She had deliberately chosen a spot some distance away from Delior; she really did not need him to see her waving her underwear about in the water. Once done, she wrung out the soaked cloth as best as she could and went back to their camping-place, where Delior had already spread out several of his things over the low bushes. Although it was still light, he had already made a fire, as Anne was relieved to see. At least she would be able to warm up again after being frozen half to death.

"Do you not want to go and wash?" Delior asked, looking up from a bag he had been rummaging through. "I do not mind the dark, but you should make use of the daylight."

Anne sighed, but agreed with him that it would be rather dangerous to stagger about in a river after dark. Thus, after having finished spreading out her own clothes (the undergarments as discreetly as possible on the side of the bushes which did not face the fire), she armed herself with a folded sheet of linen and a blanket. Before heading towards the river she turned back towards the Elf, who was at the moment unbuckling the long knife sheath from his belt.

"You… will stay here?" All right, she was stalling now, as well as being paranoid.

Of course, he completely – and probably deliberately – misunderstood her question. He tilted his head as if weighing a proposal, while balancing the knife on the palm of his hand.

Anne, belatedly realising how her question could have been understood, smelled the proverbial rat and quickly turned to bolt, not particularly keen on hearing what he might come up with. She was not quick enough though.

"I daresay that the possible alternative – apart from being fairly inappropriate – would not be to your nervous liking," his clear voice rang after her as she hurriedly made her escape.

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III III III

AN: My apologies for the delay in updating, life has been a little crazy last week.

There is not much to be said about this chapter, save, perhaps about the short 'cooking-conversation' between the two, in regard to the Núneldor-Part. It might seem that I have heaps of characters popping up, only to then let them vanish into thin air, but I can promise that they ALL will turn up again at some point /menacing grin/

or at least, it will be explained what happened to them. In fact, I'm really looking forward to tell the stories of quite a few people, apart from the main characters (Which still need a lot of storytelling also, I realise).

Next chapter, we will have some actual story-telling (meaning, not me being the storyteller), as well as a meeting with an old acquaintance, both of which I am ridiculously looking forward to. :)

My most cordial thanks for the very kind reviews to the last chapter; they are the best motivation!

And as always, a huge thank you to everyone who is reading this story. :-D