AN: My sincere apologies for the long time it took for this chapter to be posted. I hope the length of this one can somewhat make up for the long waiting.

And, as ever – my most heartfelt thanks to everyone reading this story, and especially to those who take the time to leave comments and concrit – so many lovely reviews last time, THANK YOU! Truly :)

III III III

:::

Rooklar's last declaration was followed by a silence that was if possible even deeper than before.

It did not last, however.

From every corner the sound of nervous whispering erupted, spreading quickly like little fires. The atmosphere in the room had changed completely, it was now so dense with tension you could have cut it with a knife, a mixture of excitement and fear palpable even to Anne, who was numb with shock.

All she could think, or rather what her mind was shouting at her over and over again, was that what this man was saying made no sense. He was mistaken, surely, had to be! Her brain simply refused to accept it; this was impossible… wasn't it?

"You're… you're wrong," she finally managed to get out, still very much aware of the terribly sharp knife the Dunlander was holding.

"'Wrong', eh, am I now?" Rooklar sneered. He turned towards the innkeeper. "I demand that this woman is arrested immediately!"

Mr. Butterbur looked indeed most distressed, and not a little alarmed at the turn the situation had taken. "Well, er, really, I am not sure - perhaps we should not rush our fences…" With obvious unease, he glanced around at his guests, who, in turn, were regarding Anne with increasing mistrust; no one looked particularly sympathetic at this strange woman's situation.

"She is, after all, a guest in my house, and if all of this is indeed a misunderstanding -"

Rooklar's barking, and entirely mirthless laugh cut the landlord short.

"I think not! I'm afraid there is no room for misunderstanding here, Mr. Butterbur. As I said, I remember that symbol all too well! Therefore we demand that she be committed to us as soon as circumstances allow, so we may proceed as we see fit –"

"Now, look here, my good man!"

It was Pippin, who had spoken. When Anne turned her head to look at him, she saw that he had stood, and was now staring at the Dunlander with a fire in his eyes, and an air of confidence about his whole bearing, that made the Hobbit's small figure suddenly appear in a completely different light.

"Perhaps, in your homeland, it is the custom to pass sentence over people, and decide about their fates without trial or even real evidence, but it is not how things are done around here, that's for sure."

Pippin glanced at Anne before continuing.

"Mind you, under different circumstances this were hardly any of your business – however, it is my understanding that this young lady came here after having lost her family - and in the company of a very old and dear friend of mine, who belongs to a good, noble and ancient people, who deserve better than this talk about 'unnatural' and 'evil magic' or some such nonsense as you and your handsome friends there have been railing on about. If, in truth, that is your opinion of a gentle and loving folk such as the elves, then frankly, you have no idea what you are talking about, and it would seem that wisdom wanes in Dunland. As for the lady Anne – she came here under the protection of my friend, and if he vouches for her, that should be enough for anybody, I should think! At any rate, scaring this poor thing half to death without so much as real proof for your accusation was certainly uncalled for!"

There had been muffled shouts of outrage from the Dunlanders at the hobbit's comments about their homeland and their ignorance, but while they still seemed indignant, most of them now started to look a little shamefaced. This was, no doubt aided by the effect that the hobbit's little speech was having on the Breelanders. It was obvious that Pippin was well known, and respected by most of the people here (and not solely by the hobbits, it has to be said), and his words had raised doubts.

Mutterings about 'trouble seekers' and 'brutes' could be heard, as well as 'being rash' and "having enough on our plates without such folly". One or two gave the Dunlanders black looks. After all, there had indeed been dealings – if scarcely and increasingly so – between the people from Rivendell and Bree throughout the years. The village folk had also heard quite a bit about the Elves and their deeds since the great war (albeit some of it exaggerated), and thus knew what Pippin had said about them to be perfectly true. Most of them, however, were simply extremely reluctant to be roped into some 'poorly prepared revenge campaign, or some other dubious, and no doubt dangerous affairs' of the Dunlanders. They had their own business to mind, so they thought, and, frankly, this was really the last thing they needed at the best of times – and particularly at strange and uncertain times as they seemed to be facing now once more.

Little did Anne know any of this, and she could therefore not help thinking that some of the Breelanders sudden change of heart seemed rather unconvincing – not that she was going to complain about it.

"Well, I for one agree entirely with Master Pippin here," the Hobbit named Hal now chipped in. "The poor lass, being daunted and shouted at and bullied like this, and what with no proper family and having to be taken in by the elven folk and all that! And all of this because of something she doesn't seem to know nothing about – that 'order-feather-pendant thing', if that's even what it is! Looks more like a beech leaf to me, truth be told."

All around, the inn's guests were craning their necks, or else shifting around slightly in their seats, in order to get a better look at Anne – those of them who had not started doing so during Pippins little speech already, that was.

Anne could feel her face burn. As grateful as she was to the two hobbits for their words, she could not help but wish that all of this had not been made quite so publicly. Then again she realised that, after that rather dramatic opening by Rooklar's group, and thus the cat being out of the bag, so to speak - there really was not much that could be done for her benefit, other than to try and keep the damage as little as possible. Pippin had obviously been hoping to achieve precisely that, namely by appealing to the Breelanders curiosity and sympathy. Why, exactly, he would go to these lengths for Anne, she was not entirely sure, since he really barely knew her. It only added to her gratitude, though.

The stark and undeniable truth was that there was nothing – absolutely nothing she could have said to defend herself.

Notwithstanding that, for the moment, no one seemed to particularly care for her explanation as for why she was in possession of such a thing to begin with…

Still sitting on the floor, now immobilised with tense anticipation rather than fear, Anne felt like her mind was suddenly in overdrive.

Was she supposed to try and explain that she did not know where the necklace came from? That, as far as she knew (or rather didn't know), it might not even be hers, that she could have been given it, could have stolen it (though, that might not sound so good either), she could have simply found it anywhere – literally anywhere! The trouble with that, of course, being that she would not even know about any such thing ever having occurred, let alone Legolas and Pippin being well aware of that fact.

Should she tell them that she could not remember anything prior to her awaking in Carrockton several months ago? Somehow, Anne doubted that an obscure tale of flight and memory loss was likely to dispel any distrust or misgivings the Breelanders were harbouring, or indeed, would make her seem any less suspicious than she already must appear to them.

Quite the opposite, probably, so she thought.

Not that it mattered at the moment; most of the other guests, while still staring at Anne now and again, seemed more wary of Rooklar and his companions. Although the Dunlanders were retreating a little, they were now arguing that Anne should at least be held for the time being, and that – even if nobody cared to assist them – they should be allowed to question her. However, Butterbur, though still rather flustered, made it clear he did not think much of that idea - much to Anne's relief.

"No, really, Mr. Rooklar, I cannot allow you to treat one of my guests … and with the young lady being in the company of one of them Elven Lords …"

The landlord blanched at the mere thought.

"No, no, it's downright unthinkable! There is something peculiar about this whole business and no mistake, but that is not for me to decide – nor is it for any of you, masters! Surely the elf-lord would not have brought her here if he thought her a threat – and if, indeed, she were to stay in Bree –"

"Stay here?"

A slightly haggard-looking man, sitting at one of the corner tables, had spoken; he was glancing from the landlord to Anne and back again, with a mixture of bemusement and alarm on his face.

Nor was he the only one.

All over the room, people were shaking their heads, while muttering under their breaths or exchanging wary glances with their neighbours. Anne could see Rosalin whispering something to the other maidservant, who had apparently come out from one of the backrooms to see what all the noise was about. The girl nodded to whatever Rosalin had said, and they both looked at Anne darkly.

It seemed obvious to Anne that most of the present company was, if not quite ready to hand her over to the bunch of angry Dunlanders, certainly not overly thrilled by the prospect of having her in their midst for any prolonged length of time. The impression was perhaps not overwhelming, but the dark looks and exchange of glances were hard to miss, and also not that difficult to read, even for her.

"Ah, well… yes, indeed," Butterbur replied haltingly. "That was, in fact, the reason for their coming here, so I understand."

He glanced at Anne. "Not that this needs to be discussed here and now, mind you."

"And that does not make you suspicious?" Rooklar obviously was not quite ready to relent.

"That Elf brings a stranger here, intending to leave her right amongst you! Not the most common thing to do, even for one of them I don't think – gathering up young women and having them tag along for heaven knows what reasons." The Dunlander looked about him as if hoping for support. "For all we know she might have been sent to spy on you for them!"

"Now, hold hard, sir," Butterbur spluttered, looking not a little peeved. "That does seem somewhat farfetched, does it not? Next thing you will be accusing me of allowing potentially dangerous strangers to stay in my house! The Elf-lord paid for both their lodgings, all proper and in order, and with no funny business about it. He also made no secret of the reason for bringing the lady here –"

"Indeed," snarled Rooklar.

"Where is he then, your handsome Elf-lord, I ask you? Made a run for it, if you ask me, probably off to some other murky business, and only then for his little wench here to turn up, brazenly wearing that evil thing! Even if she doesn't know anything about it as she claims, who can tell what uses those queer elvish folk may have put her –"

"Stop it!"

Anne had not realised quite how loud this was going to come out. She had not intended to shout, and as she was no slowly getting to her feet – all the while not taking her eyes off the Dunlander, who was glaring at her in appalled disbelief. She was vaguely aware of everyone in the room staring at her again, and that it probably would have been wiser to hold her tongue. She suddenly realised that the surge of anger she felt was as much on the behalf of Legolas as on her own – if not more so. For some strange and probably ridiculous reason that knowledge gave her the strength and determination to shake off her shocked numbness.

Pippin was right; the Elf did not deserve this! He had taken her in, protected her, fed her, even clothed her at one point, not to speak of having gone to the trouble of letting her travel with him. She knew that she owed him her life; even if it had not been for the attack by the altered ones then in the wood, she would never have made it on her own. In the event, he had saved her life - albeit after having shot her in the back, it was true, but that was not the point here.

„I mean to say…"

Anne paused as she heard her own voice quivering; her palms were sweaty, and she felt a little sick to her stomach, but she gave herself an angry, mental push and then went on nonetheless. It took all her strength of will not to avert her eyes from Rooklar's glare, though.

"You… you have no right to say such things."

Rooklar stared at her as if he was not sure he had heard her correctly.

"No right?!"

"No, because… well -" Anne swallowed, her hand at her throat and fumbling for the chain around her neck.

"It is true, I cannot tell you where this came from, nor how it is that I have it … but then I did not even know what it was, or what this shape was supposed to mean, so –"

"Ah, a very likely story!" Rooklar sneered. "Just fell from the skies, I assume. More likely the sinister-looking Elf - if not both of them - is from that murdering order -"

"Didn't you listen to what we said just now, Mr. Rooklar?" Pippin interrupted angrily. "She does not remember anything, other than she is from Laketown and has lost all or most of her family. That is the reason she came here, and why she's with the elf lord in the first place –"

"Please stop..." Even though Anne had spoken quietly, Pippin fell silent and looked at her, somewhat bewildered.

Anne aimed an apologetic glance at the Hobbit before dropping her gaze to the floor as her stomach tightened in fear and anger; she was thankful for his words, but right now they seemed so beside the point. She swallowed and then looked back at Rooklar, balling her hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

"He does not deserve to be spoken of like that," she muttered angrily, her voice wavering. "No matter what you think of m-me..." Her throat was tight. She swallowed again and nervously glanced around the room, not able to bring herself to meet anybody's eyes. She vaguely noticed that there seemed to be more people about than before. Her eyes darted back to Rooklar. There was a little voice in the back of her head telling her to shut up - that she had probably done enough damage already, drawn enough attention to herself, and to Legolas. Let them rant. Just leave it…

However, the voice was growing fainter, drowned out by the blood rushing in her ears. She took a shaking breath and ignored it.

"No matter what you think about me, Lord Legolas has shown me nothing but kindness, just like Mr. Took. He has done nothing to deserve that evil and spiteful talk."

Rooklar looked like he was fit to explode. "'Evil and'- Just who do you think you are, you stupid wench! My men have been killed because of people like that!"

"That's not true!"

"Those are very serious accusation, Mr. Rooklar," Butterbur said with a frown. "Without proof –"

"He brought her here, bearing the order's sign, how is that no proof!" the Dunlander barked.

"No, he didn't!" Anne said angrily. "I bore it, not he. What happened to your people is terrible, but he had nothing to do with it! We must have been miles away when that happened. And I have had that necklace long before I met him – he never even saw it! He never knew about it!"

"Ah, but of course he did not," Rooklar said scathingly, looking at Anne with utter contempt, before addressing the room as a whole once more.

"No doubt she is lying, her story makes no sense! Perhaps she is under the influence of some sort of evil goblin magic – either way, that Elf came here bearing the symbol of –"

"He came here seeking help!" Anne shouted, forgetting herself completely.

She was only dimly aware of the shocked silence in which everyone seemed to be staring at her, but right now she didn't care. She felt herself shaking with anger and disgust at the injustice of it all.

"On our way here, I have seen 'evil magic', or at least evil things! I have seen what people became because of it, what those people were capable of… Lord Legolas had nothing to do with it, he fought them! They- he..."

Her voice faltered, suddenly overcome by the memory of that horror. Those men who had attacked their group from Carrockton, and then herself, in the Eryn Lasgalen; the destroyed camp they had come through after crossing the mountains... all those corpses... the body of that woman – broken, defiled and left to rot...

And then there was something - something she felt that she was supposed to remember, some sort of connection she was supposed to make - but she was too agitated, too distracted, and the thread was gone before she had a chance to grasp and fix it.

Anne turned to look at Pippin, who was staring at her in shock, and she was vaguely sorry to have upset him, but this wasn't right, and he knew it, he could back her up. Her voice was thick when she spoke again.

"You know it too, don't you," she all but pleaded. "Whatever it... it very nearly broke him…"

She turned back towards Rooklar, glaring at the Dunlander.

"And that is why you have no right to talk about him like that! That evil – whatever it is – he is still fighting it! He risks his life fighting it and trying to help innocent people... I have seen him do so, even when we were on our way here! I have been with him, not because of some 'magic' of his, but because he was stuck with me after having saved my life! He was only ever hoping to find help here, but it was mostly my fault that he even came to Bree! I will not sit here and listen to the diatribes of ignorant people who are only looking for someone to blame for their problems!"

There were gasps from many in the room at that point, and Rooklar, whose face had turned increasingly puce underneath his beard, while Anne had been talking, practically exploded.

"HOW DARE YOU –"

"Now - that will do, I think, Mr. Rooklar!"

The landlord had come out from behind his counter and was now beckoning the pimply-faced youth who had greeted them the night before, as well as another male servant to come over to them. It seemed that Theobald Butterbur, for all his patience and jovial politeness, had had just about enough. Despite the Dunlanders protests he proceeded to usher them out of the room, albeit with courtesy.

"I will not have any more of this … No, no, really – whatever else it is you have to say, it will have to wait, I'm afraid. You have given my guests enough to gossip over for the time being, I would think. There - Tom will show you to another parlour, and I shall arrange for your meal to be served in there… No, Mr. Rooklar, this has gone far enough, really. And I must say I agree with Master Took – a piece of jewellery can hardly count as evidence in such a matter… Now, this way, if you please -"

Meanwhile, Anne, who was still standing next to the table of the Hobbits, became aware that her heart was pounding, and that she was breathing rather fast. The little voice inside her head from before was back, and at full volume, asking her what the heck she had just done – although not loud enough that it would have drowned out the appalled whispers around her. It was, however, the expression on Pippin's face when at last she turned around that really brought her back to her senses and told her – more than anything else - that she really had gone too far.

"We should take our leave, I think," Maeren Blackthorn muttered.

"Butterbur looked rather strained, he will probably be glad to see the back of many here … perhaps then some calm and order can be restored."

The hobbits muttered their agreements, one by one getting to their feet and making their way to the door. Anne noted that Hal was the only one who looked her in the eye and gave her a slightly forced looking grin. The look Maeren Blackthorn gave her, before nodding in both her and Pippin's direction, was unreadable. Most of the guests seemed to be following the hobbits example and began filing out the door, to go about their daily business and, in case of the few overnight guests, either getting ready for their departures or retiring to their rooms.

The few stranglers were still shooting weird glances in Anne's direction, as she was very uncomfortably aware of. Similarly, More than one of those who were leaving gave her unfriendly looks on their way out.

At last, the only one left at her former table was Pippin, who appeared to be sitting in a kind of shocked stupor, his elbows on the tabletop and with one hand in front of his mouth. Anne clumsily sat down opposite him, feeling an odd weight slowly settling in her stomach.

„Oh no… Pippin, I -"

"Anne! Good gracious, what –" The hobbit interrupted himself, when he saw her wince, slowly taking his hand from his mouth. He was still regarding her with a very serious expression, but when he spoke again, his voice was softer.

"What on earth did you do that for? As if those men had not already drawn enough attention to you -"

"I know, Pippin… I was telling myself the exact same thing," Anne muttered, still feeling rather shaken.

"But I just… snapped, if you know what I mean, and then - well -"

"I know what you mean. Mind you, even if I didn't, the way you screamed at that bearded tree of a man would have left me in little doubt… Ah, there comes Mr. Butterbur! I shall ask him for a private little parlour, I think. No need to put you on any more display, and I expect you would not mind being out from under all these curious eyes, may they be unfriendly or not."

It turned out there was another small back parlour, and the landlord was only too happy to show them to the room, which was cosy enough with its own little hearth, a round table in the centre of the room, and comfortable looking chairs, nice and low even for a hobbit. No sooner had Pippin and Anne settled themselves in two of the chairs, there was a knock on the door, and Rosalin appeared, carrying a tray with a large, steaming pot and cups. The serving maid kept her gaze fixed on her hands as she served them what Pippin loudly declared as the best tea east from the shire (and even though he was speaking directly at her at one point), and then hurried out of the room again, muttering her excuses, however, not before she had shot Anne a nervous and suspicious glance.

Unhappily, Anne looked after the girl.

"I suppose it was too much to hope for that the people here would not take the Dunlanders all too seriously? What they said about me being one of that… 'Grey Feather Order' -"

Pippin looked at her sternly.

"I know you feel treated unfairly, but with everything going on of late – the terrible things happening everywhere – that is very dark business, and does indeed need to be taken seriously, even if the methods of some people may be… a tad imprudent."

"I am sorry," Anne muttered sheepishly.

"I did not mean to belittle what happened to them, it is just – well it seemed to me like they were so desperate to find someone to blame for what they have lost, that they cannot see clearly anymore. Lashing out at everything and everyone -"

Pippin sadly shook his head.

"Who knows? Losing friends – perhaps even seeing them killed in front of you - it changes people. For some it may be easier to deal with such things if they turn their grief into anger."

Anne nodded mutely, not knowing what to respond.

"But to answer your question," Pippin went on. "The Breelanders are a fine people, but they are more wary now than they used to be, and perhaps that is no bad thing, in some regard. At any rate, what happened today will be spoken of for quite a while, I'm afraid. I do not think that most of them actually believe that you have any intention to harm them – nor that Legolas does."

He frowned at Anne, who felt suddenly very glum at the mention of the elf.

"Ah, I see that you realise this is probably the worst part of the whole mess? Those things you said about him – that was most unwise, Anne, more than anything else you said, I am afraid."

"I understand that, believe me, I do!"

Anne felt more and more upset, hearing Pippin confirm what she had already suspected – that she had indeed done something incredibly stupid.

"The moment I opened my mouth I knew it was a mistake, but… Oh, I don't know, I just couldn't stop myself, I felt so angry, and the more I talked –"

"Or rather shouted," muttered Pippin. He looked at her crestfallen face and sighed.

"I know you meant well, but even so – speaking of his private dealings and personal business like that, to complete strangers… and in front of a crowd - surely it must have occurred to you at some point that he, no doubt, would never wish for such things to become known to anyone – and particularly not to a bunch of gossipy Breelanders."

Anne stared at him, feeling her heart sinking.

Perhaps she had been a little more stupid than she had initially thought.

Pippin, seeing the look on her face, raised his eyebrows, while sipping on his tea.

"Ah, well, what did you expect me to say? It was an extremely foolish thing to do. But no matter now – what's done is done, and no yammering or whinging will undo it. However, Legolas will not be amused by all this and no mistake."

Anne was fairly sure that 'not amused' would turn out to be an understatement. The thought of how the elf would react, should he hear about the matter, made her feel faintly sick to her stomach. She was also fairly sure that he would hear about it, if only because the whole town was likely to know about the incident by tomorrow. At the latest, that was.

Pippin, who had watched her, seemed to be guessing at what was going on inside her head.

"You need not fear quite so much, perhaps," he said kindly. "He may seem stern at times – far more than he used to, I must say - but he will understand that you did not mean for any of it to happen, and will be fair in his assessment, I am certain of it. After all, Elves are nothing if not forgiving and considerate, and they are well aware of the fact that mortals tend to be less - well, levelheaded, so to speak, than they might be themselves in similar situations. Legolas may be more gentle than you seem to give him credit for – even if there will be a bit of… 'telling-off', no doubt."

Anne did not doubt that there would be – nor did she believe, in all honesty, that it would be merely 'a bit'. She suspected that there was little use in worrying about it now, though.

"Why did that Rooklar speak so ill about the Elves?" she wondered aloud. "From what I have seen, everyone seems either to be in awe of them, calling them 'lords' and such, or at the very least think very highly of them - or else people appear to be suspicious of them… frightened even."

"Yes, well," sighed Pippin, "we fear what we cannot understand, has it not always been so? I'm no scholar on these matters, mind you, and can thus only speak from my own experiences like every sensible Hobbit. But perhaps it is meant to be this way. The mortal peoples are wary of things that they cannot grasp and of those that might seem - well, unnatural to them, if you can follow me. Of course, this will generate narrow-mindedness and prejudice to some extend. I have seen ignorance and superstition turn many a fine Hobbit and man into a fool, to be sure. One must not forget, though, that the fear of the unknown also makes us cautious – leaves us less likely, perhaps, to suddenly find ourselves faced with something a tad too big for us, so to speak."

But it does not always work out that way, does it?" Anne muttered quietly. "Sometimes we still have to face things… even if we can't do anything about them."

Pippin shot her a strange look - sharp, and somewhat searching. However, as soon as Anne had time think this, his face relaxed again and he smiled at her, albeit a little sadly.

"Yes, I expect sometimes we do. And make no mistake," He wagged a finger at her. "I would never claim that Elves are above such things. There have been evil deeds done by Elves, and they are, no doubt, capable of fear and despair and dark thoughts, just as the rest of us. Indeed -"

He cast Anne a sideways look.

"You were better not to mention this to any of them but - well, the truth is, I think that they are indeed capable to experience such feelings more strongly than others; that is, if they do, you know, and if they let it happen to them – precisely because of their greater power, and - well, the way they are made, if you know what I mean."

Anne nodded, although her mind was reeling a little.

"Yes, Legolas once mentioned something similar to me."

"Did he now?"

Pippin looked at her curiously for a moment, but apparently decided not to enquire further.

"Well, at any rate, it would seem like it occurs with the Elves a lot less. They do have the advantage of the wisdom of ages - one must not forget that. Makes them more farsighted on most matters, which is only to be expected, I should think."

He looked at Anne keenly. "And for Legolas goes the same, although you probably know that. It fact, I must say, it was a bit of a pleasant surprise to hear you defend him like that. I would fight shy of claiming that the manner in which you did it was appropriate, but it was clear that you meant what you said. You never had misgivings about him then? After all, it must have been quite a bit of a shock when you suddenly came upon him."

"Oh no, I did think him queer at first," Anne said with a slight smile. She saw the Hobbit raise his eyebrows at her.

"Ah, well - that is to say, I was a little overwhelmed by everything, back then," she hurried to add. "Not to mention that he probably thought the same thing about me."

After a brief consideration, Anne decided not to go into the details on how exactly she had met the Elf. "It was just... he was so very withdrawn and distant. You know, when we met you there on the road? It was actually the first time I saw him laugh."

It had been meant as a light comment, but Anne immediately regretted having said it when she saw Pippin's face; he looked unsettled, even a little distressed. For a moment he stared outside into the rainy greyness beyond the windows, and Anne followed his example, silently cursing herself for not thinking before speaking.

"You really do not know anything about the Grey Feather, or about that necklace of yours, do you?"

Anne looked at the Hobbit in surprise, taken aback by the sudden, and seemingly unrelated question. "No," she said slowly, and then – a little more vehemently than she had intended to: "No, I told the truth."

Pippin smiled thinly at her. "I am not accusing you of lying. However…" He gave her another one of those keen looks. "There is something else, though, is there not? Of course I could be mistaken, or it may be that it has indeed nothing to do with any of this, but…" Although they were alone in the room, he dropped his voice a little.

"Anne, is there something you remembered?"

Anne swallowed. Yes, there was something. She had not been able to make the connection earlier – or if she had, it had been merely subconsciously, and later she had very deliberately avoided thinking about these things. Yet now it was there, the image as brutally clear and razor-sharp in her mind, almost as if she had just left that clearing, and the memory as fresh as it had been right after that moment. Even now, she did not want to go back to that memory – did not want to relive those moments of horror. Somehow, though, she felt like she owed it to Pippin, after what he had done for her. Her voice sounded a little hoarse when she spoke.

"On our way here, we came across a camp of Wood Men – or at least, so Legolas thought. He said they had been ambushed, probably by the same people who attacked our group from Carrockton. They had… there was nobody left…"

"I understand," Pippin said quietly.

"Yes… anyway, there was a woman… she was –"

"Anne -" Pippin interrupted her, looking shocked and distressed, "really, I do not think –"

"No," Anne said quickly, "please let me finish. I cannot be sure, but for all I know, this could be important." She took a deep breath. "When the Dunlanders spoke about that order… about the Grey Feather, I remembered something. I was not sure at first, and it took me a while to realise what it was, but… I thought that I had somehow come across something strange involving a feather before. Then I realised, I had not heard about it, but I saw one. That woman in the camp…" Anne swallowed again.

"There was a feather, Pippin, a grey one, tied to a branch, as if someone had left it there, almost like a -" She shuddered. "Like a mark, or a signature…"

She looked up at the Hobbit. "I could be wrong, I know - it could be a coincidence, I suppose."

Pippin slowly shook his head; his face was very dark. "I very much doubt that, Anne." There was a pause before Pippin asked: "Legolas saw this as well?"

"I am not sure… I think so, but he seemed rather more concerned with getting away from there as quickly as possible." Anne was astonished at the strange detachment that she could hear in her own voice.

"Well, if not, he should know about it," Pippin muttered.

There was another pause, in which Anne was casting around wildly for something to say. In the end, it was the mention of the elf that made her think of something.

"You said that Legolas did not use to be… well, quite how he is now," she said finally. "Is he so very different, then? From how he used to be back when you first met him, I mean."

Pippin looked at her gravely. "Yes. Yes, he is, I think. But do not ask me how that came to pass, for I don't know – and although I could guess at some of it, perhaps, it would not be my place to speak about, not to you or to anyone else, safe, perhaps, his closest friends."

Anne nodded awkwardly. "Of course, I realise. I did not mean to pry."

"I know you didn't."

The Hobbit smiled at Anne, but it was also very clear from his tone that he could not be moved to say anything else on the matter – nor would Anne have expected it, to be honest.

"I wonder what will happen now," she said quietly, trying to change the subject, but also voicing something that had started to occupy her mind ever since they had left the main parlour, and with increasing force. "Somehow, I doubt that the people of Bree will be too happy about me staying here," unable to keep a slightly sour note from her voice. "No matter whether they actually believe what those men from Dunland have said, or simply because I'm a nuisance they could do without."

"Ah, now, you should not get ahead of yourself," said Pippin, and Anne could tell he was trying to sound reassuring. "I don't mean to boast, but after I said my part, it seemed to me that most of them were not quite so convinced anymore. They may be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, more than you think." He gave her an encouraging smile. "And who can tell – it might be that all of this will yet be cleared up somehow."

Anne nodded mutely. Nevertheless, she could not help asking herself how on earth something was supposed to get 'cleared up', if the only person who might have an explanation for it all, was not able to give one.

:::

In the event, Anne spent most of the day upstairs in her room. She had asked Mr. Butterbur if she could borrow a needle and thread, and thus occupied herself by mending various little holes and the odd seam that had come apart. She opted to sit on the windowsill for this, as the light was best there, and more than once she found herself staring out at the low, gloomy-white cloud ceiling, her sewing lying forgotten in her lap.

She felt a strange sort of unrest that, in fact, had nothing – or at least not much - to do with what had happened that morning Also, she could not help thinking that she had never quite felt like this while they had been travelling – however odd that might be.

When, towards the afternoon, Anne heard steps outside her room, she tried turning her head towards the door so quickly that her temple collided painfully with the sloped ceiling above the window. Cursing and rubbing her forehead, she wondered for a moment whether she should dare check who it was. She then scolded herself for being a fool. After all, she knew perfectly well that the elf could be completely noiseless if he wished to, and even if he was not bothering to do so, his steps sounded nothing like those she heard outside in the corridor. Hoping it might perhaps be Pippin, she jumped to her feet, strode towards the door and pushed it open.

It was Rosalin. Anne would not have expected her to be overly warm, perhaps, but the way the black-haired maidservant startled at her voice and then warily looked at Anne peeking around the door did unsettle her a little nonetheless.

Anne forced a smile on her face and kept her voice as casual as possible, asking Rosalin if she could possibly be brought a small washtub or something akin, as well as hot water. The idea had been to take care of her laundry herself, and within the safety of her room, without having people stare at her for a while. Anne did not like to think about the reaction of people if she were to hand over her strange assortment of clothes to the inn's servants. She could not help imagining what they might be telling each other as soon as word spread - for example those to women she had overheard outside her window that very morning.

"Have you heard about that strange woman who came here with the Elf? Apparently she's wearing nothing but rags underneath! Gave them to the Inn's people to wash!"

" I heard some of them were men's breeches!"

"Shameless! And by all accounts she was not even embarrassed about it …"

Anne winced at the very thought. It seemed that Rosalin thought her request deeply odd, and furthermore made no attempt to hide that fact. After a murmured 'Of course, miss, I shall see to it at once,' she scuttled away, muttering under her breath. Anne watched her go with sinking spirits. It seemed that Rosalin, at least, was not about to forget what had happened that morning, or was likely to indeed welcome her with open arms. Anne strongly suspected that the same would apply for everybody else who had witnessed the incident – or otherwise heard about it.

She felt her theory somewhat confirmed when, about half an hour later, the young man named Tom knocked at her door to bring her the washtub along with a washboard, a small clothes rack and a bucket with hot water in it. He poured the water into the tub for her, and – with his gaze fixed on some point near her feet – made it clear that he would come back later to collect both the tub and the washboard, but otherwise made no attempt to offer Anne his help or even persuade her to leave her washing to the inn's washerwomen or suchlike. Anne gave an inward sigh, fearing that this was probably the sort of rejection she was most likely to expect from most people around here. Looking back up at the youth, she saw his eyes flick towards her throat; Anne had taken off the necklace as soon as she had entered her room. When he met her eyes, he reddened slightly and hurriedly made his excuses - although he returned shortly afterwards, apparently having forgotten to ask Anne whether she would like her lunch brought up to her room. Anne, not feeling the least bit hungry, thanked him but declined. This meant that, towards the evening, she was beginning to feel quite a bit queasy, and started wondering whether it would not be time for supper soon, although she felt rather reluctant to venture downstairs and ask someone.

It was already darkening when there was another knock on her door, and she heard, with some surprise, the voice of the landlord outside. When she opened, he apologised wordily for not having come up sooner and check that everything was in order.

"Begging you pardon, my lady, it has been a busy day. New guests arriving, trying to arrange for new horses and supplies for that party from Dunland… don't know whether you're coming or going at times like these! Would have been a bit of a hustle even without - er, well… yes. At any rate, I came to tell you that your supper will soon be served downstairs, in one of the smaller parlours. If you would follow me -"

With some relief, Anne went to fetch her room key from the top of the chest of drawers in the corner. When she turned to face Butterbur once more, she found him gazing at her pensively, and looking somewhat hesitant at the same time. Just as she warily began to wonder what this might be about, the landlord cleared his throat and looked up at her with a determined expression.

"Forgive me for being a bit blunt, my lady, but there is something else I wished to tell you." He rubbed his hands as if feeling cold all of a sudden, and anxiously peered down at Anne, who was waiting apprehensively.

"I … well, I feel it is only just that I tell you this – especially in regard to the elf-lord's request, concerning you." Anne nodded glumly, as Butterbur cleared his throat once more.

"For I realise, of course, that you have had a bit of an unpleasant start here, so to speak… well, I would not wish for you to feel - well, unwanted here, if you know what I mean. While the er, events from this morning have naturally upset some people - begging you pardon my lady, no doubt they must have upset and shaken you even more – this does not mean that you would not be welcome to stay in Bree. I feel certain that something can be arranged, if you still wish to do so. The people here – well, they may seem all too ready to prejudge and mistrust at times, but I would ask you not to think ill of them. They are good people, most of them at any rate, and would not willingly cause pain or trouble for others. If one is willing to give them a chance, they may soon find it in their hearts to do the same. However…"

Butterbur hesitated for a moment, looking uncomfortable once more. "You should understand, though, that there may always be some who… find that more difficult than others. However you may decide, if there is anything I can be of assistance with, I hope you will not hesitate to ask."

Anne stared at him for a moment, before shyly dropping her gaze, feeling a sudden wave of gratitude towards the innkeeper. He was being so nice, and even after what had happened this morning he was still willing to offer her his help. Not only that, but he was kind and considerate enough to apologise, reassure her about what had happened, and warn her, all at the same time. That could not have been easy, considering he was talking about his neighbours as well as friends, no doubt, and yet he had managed to do so with the utmost tact.

"Thank you, Mr. Butterbur, truly," she muttered. "I realise that I have caused quite a bit of trouble, and –"

"Ah, but not at all, not at all!" He coughed slightly, his whole demeanour businesslike and affable once more.

"Now, where was I – ah, yes, supper! By the way, it appears that there has been a change in plans for … Ah, but I am sure you will hear all about it, soon. Not my place to speak of it anyway, I suspect, no indeed. Oh, but what am I blabbering on about here - This way, please, my lady."

Butterbur barely left Anne time to be bewildered as he bustled off, and she had to hurry to keep up with him. He led her down the several flights of stairs and down the corridor to the same parlour she had sat in with Pippin that morning. The landlord opened the door and motioned for her to go through it with a slight bow. Anne, who could already smell the delicious and rich aroma of freshly baked bread as well as something that might be a meat and vegetable stew, thanked him with a smile and entered the room.

She froze.

The round table was laid for three, and there were three chairs grouped around it. In one of them sat Pippin, looking content with a deep mug in his left hand and a pipe in his right, and in the other – his long legs stretched out in front of him, elbows resting on top of the chair's arms, and his hands folded loosely in his lap – Legolas.

One look at the Elf's face, and all hopes of him perhaps not yet having heard everything about what had happened that morning fled in an instant.

He was not so much glaring, or even frowning at her, but there was a certain tenseness about his mouth and eyes - as if he was strongly suppressing some emotion - that told Anne she was in trouble. There was a short silence.

"Ah, Anne! Butterbur found you I see. Good, good. Please, have a seat, will you."

Anne glanced at the Hobbit, who had stood and was now pulling out the third chair for her. He was smiling at her, she noted, but it seemed to her that there was something slightly forced about it – although it was possible she was reading some of her own nervousness and anxiety into it. She felt her stomach tighten with nerves nonetheless. While slowly advancing the table, Anne inwardly cursed Butterbur for not having given her any kind of warning, but the next moment she berated herself for this. The landlord had obviously no reason to think she might have misgiving about facing the Elf – and facing him she would have to at some point, not to mention that the reason for that was entirely her own doing. The thought did not stop her from feeling the urge to turn tail and flee the room, however.

She was glad that Pippin was there, though. Somehow she doubted that, with him in the room, Legolas would be quite as hard on her, as he might otherwise have been. So thinking, Anne felt a rush of gratitude – which quickly evaporated as the Hobbit, still standing, drowned his mug and knocked out his pipe, before saying. "I shall go and get a sniff of fresh air while our supper is got ready, then. I will see you later, if they don't let that stew burn after all."

Anne kept her gaze fixed firmly on her hands, that were tightly clasped in her lap, even as she heard the sound of the door behind her falling shut.

:::

III III III