AN: First I would like to (as always) apologise deeply to everyone, who has been following this story, and waiting for another chapter, for the – once again – abysmally long waiting time. At the same time I want to say THANK YOU! To everyone who takes the time to read this, and especially to those who go to the trouble of writing me reviews, emails and PMs, offering so much helpful advice, support and encouragement! Please believe me, you can NEVER bother or annoy me, I still get excited by every little piece of critic, and I love to read what you think about the story and the characters.

That being said, I would like to clarify that the ensuing chapter is in fact only the first half of what was planned to be one chapter. During the usual 'writing/editing/changing stuff'-phase, the original extent of the text had … well, let's say it reached worrying dimensions. In the end I decided to go against my principles and divide the already existing chapter into two "normal length"-parts, giving my beta-reader some time to breathe, and You a little less waiting time. Therefore the 23rd chapter is already completely written; it's now being edited, and of course I'll upload it, once I get it back.

Till then - I wish everyone a happy Halloween!

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III III III

As the three of them made their way through the crowd, Anne got a clearer look at Maeren Blackthorn. The resemblance to a young man seemed much less pronounced, now that she knew that it wasn't one. The tall woman's features were less sharp than Anne had first thought, her chin and throat were white and smooth, and there was a definite shapeliness to her figure, even underneath the trousers, waistcoat and long-sleeved shirt - if you knew what you had to look for.

No sooner were Pippin, Legolas and Anne within about ten feet of the table than there was already a great uproar of joyful greetings from among the hobbit group, as several of them seemed to recognise Pippin. In a matter of seconds they had gone from shouts of astonishment and delight to exchanging news, asking about this friend and that family member, and pretty nearly all and sundry. During this - seemingly mandatory - exchange of pleasantries, Legolas waited patiently for them to finish. Anne had known for a while that he was intending to meet with someone in Bree, but with everything else that had been going on she had never wondered why, or for what purpose.

Maeren Blackthorn, comfortably leaning back in her chair, watched the proceedings with a mildly amused expression, and a soft smile on her lips. Her dark gaze had brushed Anne for a moment before returning to the hobbits. Legolas she had barely given a second glance, which, given the reverence people usually regarded him with, Anne could not help but find slightly odd. She surreptitiously looked at the dark-haired woman. Maeren Blackthorn seemed to be strongly built, and Anne did not doubt that, would they both stand, the other woman would be towering over her.

At last the hobbits greeting ritual appeared to be over, and Pippin proceeded to introduce his companions. The hobbits, apparently not having noticed the elf until now, stared at him in some amazement. Anne they gave curious glances, while standing, bowing and muttering greetings.

Maeren Blackthorn, however, merely nodded without getting up, and said nothing. Again, Anne had the impression that she was ignoring the elf completely - or was at least less than impressed with him being there.

Legolas now stepped forward and bowed. "Well met, Lady Maeren," he said, his tone of such explicit, unobtrusive politeness, that Anne actually involuntarily turned, in order to make sure whether it was indeed him speaking.

"Forgive me for disturbing you and your friends," the elf now continued. "There is, however, a matter of great importance to me, that I would like to speak to you about."

'Good gracious, he really must need her badly for something!' Anne thought incredulously. She did not fail to notice, however, that the one person the elf's uncharacteristically polite words had actually been directed at looked quite unimpressed by it all. Folding her arms, Maeren Blackthorn leaned further back into her chair, and her face was forbidding when she regarded Legolas out of narrowed eyes.

"Indeed," she said slowly. "And what might that be?"

It was clear from the look on his face that Legolas was less than thrilled by the idea to discuss this matter openly, but he apparently came to the same conclusion Anne had reached – that he had little choice. "I was told by, as I believe, a common friend, that you speak and understand the tongue of Rhun rather well."

Maeren Blackthorn straightened up a little. "'A common friend', you say?" she asked, completely disregarding the implied question.

Legolas inclined his head slightly. "That was my impression, yes. Lord Glorfindel of Imladris was it who told me about you."

The woman's eyes narrowed, if possible, even further. "You have a false impression, then," she said rather coolly. "Also you were misinformed, I am afraid. I haven't been to Rhun, or used Taiq in many years, and to say that I speak it 'rather well' would be quite an overstatement. To rent a room and ask for date-tea is about all I am capable of."

Before the elf had a chance to react to this no doubt rather unfortunate piece of news, one of the hobbits, a young fellow with light-brown, curly hair and particularly red cheeks, said:

"Now you are just being thick-headed, Maeren, and this is a friend of dear old Pippin, you are lying to, mind you. I happen to know for a fact that you are planning to leave for Hathi the day after tomorrow."

Maeren looked like she could have happily throttled her friend. She quickly hid her annoyance however and, smiling haughtily, turned her gaze back towards the elf.

"However things may be," she drawled. "I do not have the time to translate some unreadable nonsense, or to play the interrogator with some captive of yours."

"In truth I need neither of those," said Legolas; his tone was still pleasant and calm, but there was a hardness in his eyes that told Anne he was beginning to detest the situation he had landed himself in. "Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more private," he now quietly suggested.

"Whatever it is you have to say, you can do it right here or not at all," Maeren interrupted him, her tone and whole demeanour screaming indifference.

The elf's eyes narrowed, and there was a distinguishable edge to his voice when he spoke again. "I require someone who can take me over the border of Rhun and into Hathi. It is said that, for anyone foreign to that area this has become near impossible. You, however, have - as I believe - family in Rhun, and are considered a kinswoman there. I shall pay well for your services, and since, apparently, you are planning on journeying there either way, you have only to gain by accepting my offer, would you not agree?"

Maeren regarded him for a few seconds, her lips pursed, and her face guarded, while playing with the empty glass in her hand. "What sort of business brings an elf-lord to Rhun, I wonder?" she finally asked, letting go of the glass and folding her arms again.

"None that should be any of your concern," Legolas replied, his face now as guarded as Maeren Blackthorn's had been just a moment ago.

The woman furrowed her brow. "I should think that it is indeed of my concern if I put myself in danger because of some ludicrous scheme of the elves. You may not understand this, but times have changed even around here."

"I did notice that the Bree-landers seem to greet strangers with much less kindness than they used to," Pippin threw in from his place amidst the other hobbits, where he seemed to feel quite at home, puffing away happily on his pipe.

"And quite rightly so," replied Maeren, inclining her head towards Pippin. "Forgive me if my words seem harsh," she continued, turning back to Legolas and smiling coldly (and not looking the least bit sorry for her words). "But an elf-lord, a hobbit and ... a young lady - who on top of everything appears to travel completely unaccompanied – arriving together in the dead of night … in times when even the most harmless and common looking traveller will be regarded warily and with vigilance …" She shook her head, before looking back at the elf, her eyes glistening darkly, as she continued:

"I know that you people like to keep your noses out of everyone else's business and regard the world's mundane problems as none of your concern, but even you must have realised what is happening."

Anne suddenly noticed that Legolas had gone very still; she almost thought she could feel the air crackling around him. Feeling somehow and inexplicably intimidated by his mere presence next to her, she did not dare turn her head to see his reaction. Out of the corner of her eye she could see nothing but his upper body; she saw his chest seemingly stand still for a moment underneath the fabric of his tunic, before it rose in an inaudible sigh.

"There are certainly things I cannot possibly understand," he said calmly. "But also I may have knowledge of happenings and evil, which you in turn know nothing about – and they are part of the reason for my journey."

"Indeed." Maeren looked thoughtful. "Well, I'm sure you have your own noble motives, but that does not change anything. However, let's say - just theoretically - I were to agree to come with you - what would I have to anticipate? When an elf-lord as high and mighty as you appear to be has to ask simple people like me for assistance, it does not take a genius to realise that indeed a lot must be amiss. Who can assure me that I will not be drawn into that business myself?"

For a second Anne thought she saw a cynic smile flit over the face of Legolas – but then he slightly moved his head, and the impression was gone.

"You have my word," was all he said.

Maeren raised an eyebrow. "'Your word', you say?" she said, with a very slight sneer in her voice. "It's as simple as that, is it?"

The elf kept his face straight. "As simple as that, yes."

Maeren considered him for a moment, her brow furrowed. Finally she said: "I shall think about this before I make any decision. Tonight I came here to enjoy an evening among friends – and that is exactly what I intend to do now." With that she leaned back again, and it could not have been clearer that, as far as Maeren was concerned, the conversation was finished for now.

Anne shot Legolas a curious glance in order to see his reaction to this point-blank dismissal. For a moment she was sure that his unusual abundance of patience had to be exhausted at last - but then, with a wry smile on his face and a slight inclination of his head, he merely said:

"I understand."

And that was it. He already made to turn around, when Maeren Blackthorn addressed him once more.

"There is one more thing I would like to know …"

Anne, who had already turned halfway around as well, curiously looked back at Maeren – and found that the other woman's stare was directed at her, a strange smile playing on her lips.

"What is the … young lady's part in this play?"

Legolas' face was blank. "None," he simply said.

Maeren raised an eyebrow. "So why is she travelling with you?"

Anne could not help but glance at the elf. She thought she saw him hesitate for the tiniest of moments before he said:

"She is not. If that is indeed all that is bothering you – good evening."

He bowed once more and nodded in the direction of Pippin and the other hobbits, before he finally turned and strode away through he crowd. Feeling slightly lost, Anne waved Pippin good night, and, not knowing what else to do, followed the elf. When they reached the entrance to a hallway at the far end of which a staircase led to the upper storeys, Anne glanced back over her shoulder; she was half expecting to find Maeren Blackthorn watching them leave, but the dark-haired woman was already deep in conversation with a hobbit sitting next to Pippin.

As they began ascending the rather steep stairs, Anne considered asking Legolas when he was planning on speaking to the landlord about her staying in Bree. She suspected that Butterbur, being the owner of the inn, would probably be their reference person in this respect, so to speak. But the silence between them stretched … and then stretched some more. At last Anne discarded the idea of trying to just yet discuss her future with the – by now no doubt rather ill humoured elf. They had now reached the third landing, and the babbel of voices from the main parlour could be heard only as a muffled sort of hum. Anne suddenly became aware of how tired she was. It had been a long day, no matter how one looked at it, and although she was not particularly eager for the morning (and whatever it would bring) to come, Anne was looking forward to sleeping in a fluffy bed with actual pillows and (hopefully) clean sheets. Blankly staring at the elf's back as she walked behind him along a dimly-lit corridor, she vaguely wondered how it was that Legolas seemed to know exactly where he was going, or when and how on earth Butterbur had managed to slip him the keys for their rooms without her noticing.

However, no sooner had she finished that thought than the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard on the stairs behind them.

Turning, Anne saw one of the maidservants from earlier appear on the landing; the girl paused for a moment and then hurriedly approached them, tucking several black curls behind her ear as she went.

To Anne's immense relief she was not giggling anymore, albeit she was rather red in the face, and also seemingly still trying to catch her breath. Somehow, Anne doubted that either of those things had much to do with climbing the stairs, though. The effect, however, was not an unpleasant one at all. Even in Anne's eyes the girls red cheeks looked very nice with her white skin and black hair. She was a bit shorter than Anne, but had (as the latter grudgingly thought) much better proportions. Though petite and slender, she did fill her dress in all the right places. Involuntarily Anne did a quick comparison to herself, and could not help but feel terribly unfeminine.

The maidservant now stopped in front of them, curtseying to Legolas and even gracing Anne with a small bob.

"I have your room keys, my lord," she said, still sounding slightly out of breath. "And Master Butterbur said to tell you that he will have your luggage brought up right away. Oh, and should you need anything at all – Rosalin is my name, at your service!"

Legolas merely inclined his head to signify that he had understood - though he might just as well have roguishly winked at the girl, for the way she blushed and hurriedly dropped her gaze to the floor. As they followed her the last couple of steps, Anne wondered if the servant's behaviour was not perhaps a completely normal reaction to the elf's attraction, or … allure, or whatever it was he seemed to possess, and whether she herself might not – at some point - have been acting in a very similar manner towards him, without even noticing it.

The thought was quite disturbing to say the least.

Rosalin showed them to their rooms, which were small but cosy, each furnished with a comfortable looking bed and a low chair, a chest of drawers and a soft, thick woven carpet on the floor, as well as heavy curtains in front of the windows. The servant then asked (not without furiously blushing once more) whether either of them would like to take a bath this evening. Legolas declined, curtly stating that he would like to speak with the landlord as soon as possible. Anne, who had an inkling that she might have a very good idea what this could be about, decided that she was probably going to know soon enough about the outcome of it anyway, and instead enthusiastically accepted Rosalin's offer.

A hot bath! Possibly including decent towels, probably soap, and definitely something else she had missed for a long time: privacy! No matter how long the day had been, she couldn't possibly be tired enough to spurn this opportunity.

Rosalin, while looking a little bemused at Anne's obvious excitement, politely excused herself with another bow, and then - after throwing the seemingly oblivious elf a last glowing look - bustled off to arrange for Anne's bath to be prepared, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway.

Legolas, who seemed terribly absentminded, wished Anne a muttered 'good night', and had already turned towards his door - when Anne heard herself calling him back.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder at her, his expression not so much questioning but rather a bit resigned. It suddenly struck Anne how he looked almost as tired as she felt.

"Er …" Not for the first time Anne found herself struggling for words in his presence, which angered her, especially since she had thought herself to be past this. Honestly, this was frustrating. Her social skills could only improve from now on; that at least was something worth looking forward to. But none the less …

"Thank you for … this … well, everything," she finally muttered, not quite looking him in the eyes.

All right, not so eloquently worded, perhaps, but after all, it was the intention, that counted. Anne knew she had thanked him before, but now that their journey together was over, she felt that it needed to be said again, somehow. She was probably about to be snubbed by him anyhow, but at least she had this off her conscience.

For a few seconds the elf did not react at all, but merely gazed at her. Then he turned fully around so he was facing her again, lightly leaned against her doorframe, and tilted his head slightly.

"Is there something you wish to tell me?" he asked placidly.

Anne stared at him in complete bewilderment. She had not the slightest idea what he was talking about. Apart from the fact that she had just told him something, there was something stern about the way the elf regarded her, which only added to her confusion. Anne racked her brain for something she had said or done recently that might warrant such a question, or would call for an explanation, a confession, or even an apology – but unless he was able to read thoughts (which, secretly, she would not put past him), she could not fathom what on earth he was referring to.

She slowly shook her head, still staring at him.

"I … don't know what you mean."

He scrutinised her face for a moment, and Anne thought she saw his brows contract ever so slightly - but then his features relaxed and he gave her a tiny nod. "I see."

For a moment it seemed like he wanted to say something else; he blinked, then pressed his lips together before opening them again, a pensive look on his face.

"Enjoy your bath," he at last said softly. He then finally pushed away from the wall and disappeared into his own room. Anne was left standing alone in the dark hallway, feeling, for some reason, like someone who had just missed their cue.

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Anne did not sleep well that night. This was in fact not due to her being nervous about what would happen to her the next day (although she indeed was), but rather - as ridiculous as that might sound - because the bed was simply too comfortable. At least she assumed that it was supposed to be comfortable. All night she was unpleasantly aware of her body sinking into the all too soft mattress in an awkward way, while at the same time she felt pointy things poking into her back, hip or shoulder. If one slept outside, one could at least remove stones or other disruptive elements from underneath the 'bed'.

Thus when, in the very early hours, Anne woke up for the umpteenth time, she decided to call it a night. Telling herself that she would surely get used to this – albeit obviously not right now – she got up and, shivering slightly, padded across the cold floorboards towards the corner where the washbowl was placed on a low drawer. The water was of course freezing cold, and since she could barely see anything in the semi-darkness anyway, Anne contented herself with a rather quick wash. After all, she had bathed and washed thoroughly the night before (incidentally something that certainly did NOT require any getting used to on her part). She then turned to her bags, which the slightly pimply youth had carried upstairs for her the night before, and rifled through the contents, in the vain hope of finding anything suitable to wear.

Anne soon realised that there was nothing among her things that would be deemed 'appropriate' by the Bree-landers. Perhaps Legolas had packed a few more of her dresses, but even if he had, they were obviously with his luggage. Since Anne knew where his room was, she could of course simply go and ask him, but somehow she could not bring herself to do that. It was odd, but, being suddenly separated from each other by walls and doors made an early morning call, like this would have been, feel much more … intimate.

Instead she opted to wear the dress from the day before – hoping that nobody would notice. Once she was dressed she went over to the low window and drew back the heavy, dark-brown curtains. The bolts weren't exactly well-oiled, but, after some fumbling and muttered swearing on Anne's side (involving a less than ladylike version of the question when on earth had been the last time someone had opened these things), the aged iron yielded, and Anne pushed back the shutters.

The narrow street outside, which had been so busy and noisy the night before, now lay quiet and mostly deserted in the first, opaque light of dawn. A faint mist hung in the cold air; Anne took a few deep breaths and could smell the earthy, and slightly sharp scent of rotting leaves.

A few of the town's inhabitants were already up and going about their business; a young servant was sweeping the broad steps leading to the entrance of one of the larger houses facing the inn, and two women, who were wearing aprons over their long skirts and carrying baskets, were walking down the street at a brisk pace, while chatting merrily. Soon, they were right underneath Anne's window, and she could hear threads of their conversation.

"… with the miller yesterday –"

"Yes, yes, she was quite right to complain, if you ask me …"

"And I heard he was rather insolent about it too …"

"The nerve of him …"

Despite herself, Anne listened raptly, captured by that certain kind of fascination often held by things that are not meant for the eavesdropper's ears. She was suddenly overcome by the odd desire to be down there, and – while she felt a little ashamed to admit it even to herself – to know exactly what the women were talking about … maybe to even be happily gossiping with them.

Suddenly Anne felt stifled by the gloomy confinement of her room, and she abruptly decided to go and explore the town a little bit. It would be nice not to be under the gaze of watchful eyes, for a change, she thought. Thinking vaguely of trying to find the washing stoop, she began to rummage in her bags again, this time in search for smelly clothes. As she poked around in the very bottom of her bag, her fingers suddenly touched something small, cold, and pointy. Anne's hand froze – but then she remembered the leaf-shaped pendant Liecia had returned to her along with her other things, so many weeks ago. She pulled it out on its chain and stared at it for a moment. It was strange, she thought, that she felt absolutely no emotional connection to it, since the pendant obviously must have been important enough to take it with her.

As Anne considered the exquisite little craftsmanship, she was suddenly reminded of the pretty maidservant Rosalin, who had also worn a necklace – although it had looked nothing like this one. Then, not being entirely sure about what prompted her to do this, Anne opened the delicate clasp of the chain and but it around her neck. It was hers to wear after all, she thought defiantly, as she straightened up, gathering up her clothes. Had she still been travelling, the elf probably would have made some scornful (and unnecessary) comment, but since – as of today – Anne was going to live here, she could just as well try and make a good impression. There was no basket for clothes in her room, therefore Anne bundled together her washing in her arms, after she had straightened her hair as best as she could. She then wrapped herself in her cloak and, as an afterthought, tucked the leaf-pendant down the front of her dress, before she tiptoed out of her room and onto the quiet landing.

III III III

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