Revised July 2020

Author's Note July 2020:

An extra bit of dialogue was added to the conversation between Pippin and Legolas near the end of this chapter. It was supposed to be part of chapter 26, but I simply couldn't fit it in, so I reworked it slightly and put it in here, where they're already having a private talk. Blame this on my complete inability to write anything in chronological order. I do have outlines, both for the story and the individual chapters, but apparently can't be arsed to be more organised. (I'm working on that, I promise.) The added piece begins after: "It would not be the first time." - for those who might wish to skip the rest - and ends with: They both fell silent after this. (Hope there are no breakfast references in there anymore.)

III III III

:::

In the silence that ensued after Pippin had left the room, a soft pattering could be heard against the windowpane; the clouds, which had been threatening the town all day, were finally releasing their burden.

"Will you do me the courtesy of looking me in the eye at least?"

The Elf's voice was as cool and smooth as silk. Anne found it very difficult to lift her head all of a sudden, and did not obey at once.

"Look at me!" Legolas said sharply.

Wincing, Anne looked up at him – only to involuntarily drop her gaze back to her hands at once, after seeing how darkly he was looking at her. She rather sensed than heard his movement as he stood and closed the gap between their chairs with two long strides.

Anne flinched and glanced upwards in time to see him bend down slightly; before she could think of anything to say or do, he had grabbed her around the chin and was forcing her head upwards, so she had no choice but to look at his face.

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

There was a spark of cold fury in the Elf's eyes that she had not quite expected. Instinctively she grasped his wrist; his skin was very warm against her cold fingers. She felt her pulse quicken against his hand and feebly attempted to draw away, but his grip was firm, although not cruel.

Anne let go of his hand and looked away from his eyes, focusing her gaze on his hair instead, which was gleaming softly in the firelight like dark, polished wood. She vaguely noticed that it appeared to be damp.

"How did this happen?" Legolas now asked calmly, though cold anger was still palpable in every syllable. "Who did that?"

Anne had already opened her mouth, though whether to try and defend herself, or to wail and pathetically beg for forgiveness, she wasn't quite sure; no she paused and frowned.

While his first question she had expected, the second one did not seem to make much sense, somehow.

'Who did that?', what was that supposed to mean? If Legolas had indeed been told by Pippin everything that had occurred, then he knew exactly who had 'done' it. Was this some sort of punishment, she warily wondered, acting as if he didn't already know, hence forcing her to tell him about the whole disaster herself?

Or, was this possibly some sort of strange 'learn from your mistakes'-moment, and he was trying to be kind by giving her the chance to admit to it all?

Somehow she suspected not.

Hoping to, perhaps, gauge some of the Elf's thoughts from his expression, Anne cautiously glanced up at his face. With deepening confusion she saw that he was not, in fact, meeting her eyes – he was inspecting some point on the left side of her forehead, so it seemed.

Interpreting her silence correctly, no doubt, his eyes sought hers for a brief moment, before flicking back towards her temple.

"Who did this?" he repeated, more slowly than before, as if talking to a slightly thick-witted child. Although he was still looking grim, his tone was softer this time, and less sharp.

Suddenly Anne realised what he was talking about - the bruise on her temple, from when she had hit her head on the ceiling, that afternoon. She had completely forgotten about it, let alone thought that there still might be visible evidence. Trust an Elf to immediately spot it, however.

"Nobody did," she muttered nervously. "I just hit my head."

Legolas' face seemed to relax, but he was still frowning slightly, tilting his head, as if to assess the damage she had caused to herself. "It is swollen, and there is a little blood in your hair. How could you not have noticed that?"

Perhaps it was just her excessively guilty conscience, but Anne thought he almost sounded a little accusing.

"Well, I did not do it on purpose, if that's what you are asking," she said with a tad more exasperation than she had intended, while dropping her gaze back towards her hands. Immediately she was convinced that she could feel his glare like a cold breeze.

Anne wished the ground would open up and swallow her. She also wished he would let go of her face already, and stop staring at her like this. Legolas promptly did her the favour – then took a step backwards and folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Yes, I did assume as much," he said, regarding her coldly. "Although I shudder to ask what else you have been up to this day."

He both turned and stepped back towards his chair in one, flowing movement, and took his seat again.

"Nothing," Anne muttered. "Well, that is to say… nothing apart from what I… from what you already know."

She glanced at his face, which was unreadable.

"You… you have heard all about it, I suppose?"

There was that flicker of hope at least.

"Did you expect me not to?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, no – I, er -"

"When I returned, two of the serving wenches were sitting in the main parlour, busily gossiping about your performance, for a start."

Anne groaned inwardly, suspecting that she had probably not come out the heroin in that account. Nerves and shame bubbled up inside her stomach once more, but she was also starting to feel confused and almost unsettled about this lack of a more severe rebuke. She wished he would just give her a good dressing-down and be done with it. Apparently she really didn't deal well with emotional stress, because her next words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

"I thought you would be more angered than –"

"I am angered, make no mistake about that."

Legolas had barely raised his voice, yet his words seemed to cut into her like blades. Anne involuntarily drew up her shoulders and found herself staring at the cheerful pattern of the carpet to her feet. Well, she had asked for it.

"Not only were you foolish enough to let yourself be goaded into speaking of a private and very grave business of mine – that, at least, one might try to excuse with that hotheadedness of yours – but also you are giving me the impression that you are not even taking this entire matter all that seriously, or are indeed paying much heed to any advice or warning you have been given. And now, for you to speak so blithely about -"

"You are right."

Legolas fell silent, although Anne's interruption had been barely above a whisper.

"I am sorry. It was a stupid thing to say," she went on, her throat still feeling rather tight, "But – please – believe me, I am not being blithe. If it seems like that, it's only because I find this all a little… I find it difficult to…"

Casting around for words she spread her hands in a helpless gesture, as if hoping to wordlessly express her feeling of strange detachedness and alienation to him. She had become more and more aware of it during the afternoon, in the quiet and seclusion of her room. I seemed to make little sense, and that confused and scared her a little. She could not remember ever having felt as lonely and out of place during these past weeks of travel as she was feeling now – despite being surrounded by people.

She was also fairly certain that it was not simply a matter of not wanting to 'fit in', or to get along with the Breelanders, because she wanted to belong. She wanted to have friends, people she could trust to tell about her feelings and secrets, or even just to gossip, and be comfortable around each other.

She wanted to be a part of something – anything.

Was she being unreasonable? Perhaps this was too much to ask for. Perhaps, after everything that had happened, she was supposed to be glad to be alive, to be cared for even, and to be more or less looked after.

She couldn't admit any of this to Legolas, she thought. It would sound childish, if not ungrateful. She looked at the Elf's face, took in the slight frown, the tension of skin around his mouth; he was still angry. However, there also seemed to be a flicker of sympathy in his expression.

She took a deep breath, before carrying on, "Forgive me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to anger you even further. I seem to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing at the worst possible moment often enough - just like this morning. The truth is – after Pippin had spoken to them, I had already started to think that it might turn out all right, but then…"

She ruefully shook her head, still mad at herself.

"I couldn't… I know, it was the most idiotic thing to do, I was sort of telling that to myself even then, but I just…" she sighed, glancing up at him, "I became so furious - I felt sick to the stomach with it. I know it must sound terribly immature to you, but…" She shrugged helplessly, giving up on explaining. "Pippin mentioned something to me about the differences between mortals and Elves… how we are less - 'level-headed' than you, because we don't have your wisdom. I suppose that must be true, or, at least in my case it is."

Legolas, who had listened to her in silence until now, was giving her a stern look.

"I am not trying to excuse what I did with being mortal," Anne added hurriedly, "That's not what I meant – nor would dream of saying the same thing about… I don't know - Pippin himself, for example."

Legolas nodded slowly by way of acknowledging her amending her words. "I would think not. I have known many brave and noble mortals - both Men and Hobbits - and Pippin being one of them. I have met women and men, who possessed courage and wisdom alike, and also the willpower to do the right thing when it was needed – even if, at times, that meant to stay silent when their hearts might desire for them to speak, or refrain from doing something that they knew to be an ill choice – no matter how right and just it might seem at that moment."

Anne nodded awkwardly. She knew that she deserved everything he was throwing at her, and the truth was, she had actually expected the whole thing to turn out much worse. Yet, knowing this did not help the slight stinging of wounded pride that she felt at his words – as ridiculous as it might be.

"I understand... I think," Anne muttered. "And this is no excuse, but those awful things they said - how they spoke of…" She trailed off, feeling her cheeks grow hot.

Legolas shook his head. "Aside from my part in all this, I do hope you understand what sort of plight you have landed yourself in. The Breelanders are indeed not likely to forget about this any time soon."

"I know," Anne said quietly. "I have been thinking about it all day – wishing I could make it all undone."

Legolas regarded her bowed head for a moment, and then sighed.

"I would ask you what in the name of everything good and sacred you were thinking, but apparently Pippin has already seen to that for me."

"Yes, he did," Anne said quickly. "Although, in truth, he didn't have to. Even without him telling me, I knew that –"

"Oh no, I am certain that it needed to be said," Legolas cut across her tartly.

Anne swallowed and then nodded. When the Elf continued, he sounded slightly weary.

"Perhaps I am also not without blame. It is easy to forget, sometimes, how young you are. There are, no doubt, things I was wrong to have let you know – or even to let you guess at them.

Anne was not sure whether these words were supposed to be comforting, but the tone of weary indifference, and cold acceptance in his voice – like she had acted every bit as untrustworthy as she was to be expected – was, somehow, hurting even more than his anger.

"I am sorry," she said again, in a small voice, "Truly."

She could rather feel than see him watching her closely for several moments – and suddenly found herself wishing she were wearing several more layers of clothes. She was also incredibly annoyed with herself for the unshed tears stinging in her eyes. They were tears of shame, hurt, faint humiliation, and it was all she could do to keep herself from angrily wiping at her eyes. Something told her that dissolving into hysteric bawling would leave the Elf rather unimpressed.

When, at last, he spoke, his tone was, albeit still serious, more gentle than it had been for the entire conversation.

"Perhaps, then, we can leave it at that."

Anne lifted her head, even forgetting that her eyes were still wet, and stared at him, not quite daring to hope that this had been it.

"There is little sense I deem, in wasting both our time by repeating what you already have been told. I hope you will take this to heart, though."

He bent forward and tilted his head, to reclaim her attention. "You must learn to hold your tongue, or it will be a mere matter of time before you find yourself faced with someone less forgiving."

Anne nodded mutely. Legolas scrutinised her face while picking up his cup and taking a sip from it.

"There is also something else I need to discuss with you," he finally said, "I admit that I did indeed consider whether you might have done all this on purpose, for not wanting to stay here –"

With a quick wave of his long fingers, he cut her muffled protest short.

"I do not, in truth, believe that now. However, if it were true – you might just be granted your wish."

Anne just stared up at him, uncomprehending, and he sighed.

"The situation would be similar, albeit less grave, had you not chosen to shout at that man. As unfortunate as it might be: In a way, you are my responsibility, and therefore I cannot leave you in this town if there is a chance of any harm coming to you – not unless it were your explicit wish."

Anne blinked at him. "You… think that the Breelanders might –"

He shook his head. "No. But according to what happened today, the villagers are not the only ones to be reckoned with."

It took Anne a moment to recover from this surprise. As it sank in, she became aware of other feelings. Relief, anticipation? Fear, and Hope? All of them?

Finally, she trusted herself to speak again. "Are you saying that… you would take me back? All the way? And then where - back to Carrockton?"

"I do not bounce at the prospect, I assure you," he replied coolly, "However, I will be riding with others on my way back, which means I will be slowed down considerably as it is - with or without you. You could travel with us as far as Rhovanion only, and there is a great chance you will not be able to return to Carrockton. Therefore you possibly would have to stay in the woodland realm. Since we do not know what happened in Laketown, it is too early to make any plans from there, but, should the option of returning there present itself, it might be possible for some of my people to take you."

Anne was not quite sure what to say to this – or how she was supposed to feel about it. She had already resigned herself to having to stay in Bree for good. She was also faintly curious as for who those 'others' might be, Legolas had said he would be travelling with, but knew better than to ask him just now. So far, Bree had at least turned out to be anything but boring, that was for sure.

"I… this is… thank –"

"Do not thank me," he said, sounding vaguely resigned. "I may yet regret this, I fear. The decision lies with you, I can but offer you the option. We shall leave tomorrow afternoon, so you only have till then to think about it."

"Tomorrow… so soon?"

"I cannot afford to linger for your sake. Consider it as carefully as you may, but also bear in mind that what I told you, concerning your actions, applies no matter where you are."

Anne nodded, feeling glum again.

"I know."

"I hope you do." Legolas regarded her intently for a moment. He then set down his cup, and went on, "No matter how you may decide, there are two things I shall ask of you. Before that, however, I would like you to show me that necklace, which apparently started this whole exploit."

"The… yes, all right," Anne stuttered, slightly taken aback by his request, and the sudden change of subject. "It's upstairs, though."

"Will you fetch it for me?"

"Of course," Anne said quickly, relieved that the worst part of all this seemed to be over, but also for a chance to get away from the Elf's keen gaze for a moment, and to compose herself a little.

She rose, quickly strode over to the door, and left the room, absently wondering if their supper was burnt yet, and where Pippin might have got to, as she made her way upstairs. As far as that other 'option' Legolas had just presented her with was concerned - she could not think about that now, she knew - being in a complete turmoil wouldn't help considering anything calmly or carefully, of that she was certain. Therefore, she tried very hard not to think about it, but was, of course, failing completely.

Her other two questions at least were answered when she returned to the small parlour, about ten minutes later - this included the five minutes she had spent frantically searching her room, before remembering that she had shoved the necklace right to the bottom of her pack after taking it off that morning. The table had been laid in her absence; there were fresh loaves of bread, butter, a plate with cold meats and cheese, as well as the large tureen of stew, which was placed on a warmer with several low candles in it.

Pippin was standing at the table, pouring himself a mug of what appeared to be beer from a large jug. There were also several pitchers with water, as well as a jug that seemed to be filled with wine. Anne went over to Legolas, giving the Hobbit a small smile as she passed him. As she handed the chain with its pendant to the Elf, she thought she saw a shadow pass over his face; before she could be sure about what she had seen it was gone, however, and he had taken the necklace from her hand. She then sat down, nervously watching Legolas, who was looking closely at the small piece of silver. Anne noted that he seemed somewhat reluctant to touch it, holding the necklace by its chain as he examined the little feather, which was glittering innocently in the light of the candles.

"What do you think?" Pippin asked, sitting down as well, and reaching for Anne's cup to fill it for her. "Have you seen anything like that before?"

"I cannot say, I fear," Legolas said slowly, "It is rather crudely made -"

"Really?" Anne exclaimed before she could stop herself. "I thought it looked so delicate." She fell silent as she saw Legolas frowning at her. He did not comment any further on her interrupting him, though.

"Not for an Elf, it wouldn't," said Pippin with a grin, before addressing Legolas. "So there might be no connection at all to those self-proclaimed order-peoples?"

"There is no way to tell for certain," the Elf murmured, still frowning. "Neither are those rumours flying around to be called reliable. And for all I know, this 'order' may have nothing to do with what is happening in the north."

"Would that not be too much of a coincidence to hope for?" Pippin asked, looking doubtful.

"'Hope'?" I would not think so, no," Legolas replied, looking dark, "One enemy seems more than enough to me."

Anne looked from one to the other, feeling the questions multiplying in her head, although she realised this might not be the best time to start asking them.

Legolas let the necklace sink and looked at her. "I trust you will not mind if I keep this?"

Anne shook her head. "No, of course not. I don't want it."

There was a pause in which Pippin cut some of the bread, and Anne watched Legolas as he took a small leather pouch from his belt, and carefully placed the necklace inside.

"You said there were two things you wanted to ask of me?" she finally asked cautiously.

Legolas, after having the pouch tied securely to his belt once more, looked up at her. "Yes, there are. This was not one of them, however," he added with the mere hint of a smile.

For some reason, it seemed to Anne that the room had suddenly become a little bit brighter.

Folding his arms, the Elf studied her for a few seconds, before he continued, "First, I would ask you to apologise to that man named Rooklar." He held up his hand as she gasped, motioning for her to let him finish. "I am not saying that you have to do it right now, obviously, but if the chance presents itself, you should seek him out."

"What!" she exclaimed "But, if anything, shouldn't rather he -" Legolas looked sharply at her, and Anne stopped her indignant protest.

"Have you forgotten what I have just said to you? Or what Pippin told you, this morning?"

After a moment, Anne nodded and lowered her gaze, though she was still feeling somewhat sulky.

"Second - look at me, Anne - I want you to give me your word that you will never again do or say anything that might, to the best of your judgement, bring you in any sort of contact with this Order of the Grey Feather."

Whatever Anne might have expected - this was not it. "But, why would I –"

"It does not matter why," Legolas interrupted her sharply. "Do I have your word?"

"I… yes, of course," Anne said, even though she was still puzzled, "I promise." Why would she, under any circumstances, seek 'contact' with those people?

The Elf held her gaze for a moment, before nodding softly. "Then let us not speak of this anymore."

Anne glanced at Pippin, who looked just as mystified by this last part of their exchange as she felt herself, but he recovered himself quickly.

"Good, good! This is settled, then. I take it, this means we can finally eat?"

He did not wait for a reply from either of them, but started passing around the bread, and then proceeded to ladle stew into Anne's bowl.

:::

Their meal passed easily enough, considering the seriousness of the issues that had been discussed. It was clear that Pippin was trying his best to lighten the mood, making comments about the weather, which was perhaps a bit of a poor choice, and attempting to make pleasant conversation about banalities. The latter included the door sign of the inn, which appeared to be a recent addition ("What was wrong with the old one, I wonder, I liked it. Nobody concerns themselves with a little peeled-off paint, and it had that certain homely feeling, if you know what I mean, that's all I'm saying…") but also about whether Theobald Butterbur was to be considered 'corpulent' or not. The latter Anne only listened to with half an ear, as she had started to mull over other things in her head. That was, until – after the young, male servant had just entered the room to clear off some of the plates, and in the process had been roped into the conversation as well - Pippin asked for her opinion.

"- I mean, I know his uncle, of course, and I would have thought that such things run in the family, so to speak, meaning no offence - but then, with hobbits, it can go quite the other way as well, so perhaps it's the same with the big folk… what do you reckon, Anne?"

"Oh, er - well," Anne faltered, not wanting to admit that she had hardly been listening. "Well, I suppose he might just like his hearty food, you know… also drinking beer tends to make men a little plump around the waist, doesn't it?"

There was a short silence, during which the young man stared at Anne in astonishment before Pippin finally snorted into his mug, and Legolas made a sound that might have been a cough.

"Ah… yes, quite right, quite right. Well, I was actually saying that the younger Butterbur looks rather leaner than his uncle in that respect, but… no matter, no matter."

Pippin could have been a little less obvious in 'trying' to suppress his laughter, Anne thought, but then, it was hardly her place to argue. The Hobbit was still sniggering when the servant had left the room (staring back at them over his shoulder), and Anne, who suspected that her face was red as a beetroot, turned to Legolas.

"I just remembered – Butterbur mentioned something about a 'change of plans' to me, and that I would probably hear about it from you. Do you know what he might have been talking about?"

Legolas exchanged a glance with Pippin, before answering.

"It does not, in truth, concern you - but there was."

"Of course, you wouldn't have heard about it, Anne," said Pippin, "It was a bit of a surprise, really, but it seems that this Maeren Blackthorn lady has changed her mind about accompanying Legolas."

"What? she is going to help you then?" Anne stared at them both, wondering just how many surprises one day could bring. "But… well, that is good news, isn't it? Although, it does seem terribly fickle." She said the last part very quietly, but Legolas heard her nonetheless, of course. He gave her a look, which told her plainly that he did not think her in the position to make such observations.

At least, this explained the Elf's remark of not being alone on his way back. Still, his words had been 'with others', which seemed to imply more than one person.

Pippin was merely shrugging, however, and Legolas did not look like he was going to elaborate, so Anne contented herself with the knowledge that their journey here had not been a complete waste of time, after all. She felt strangely drained, she suddenly realised, but also the exhaustion from the whole day was hitting home, now that she had been sitting and actually relaxing for a while. When she stood and made her excuses, having decided to retire to her room, Legolas asked her if she still had any of the balm left, he had given to her for her shoulder-wound.

Anne turned back around to face him, slightly taken aback. "Yes, I think so. Do you need it?"

"No, but you might be well served by putting some on that bruise."

It took Anne a moment before she knew what he meant.

"Oh!" She laughed wearily. "It is not that bad, really. I had even forgotten about until you asked me if I had been hit. I suppose it would look a bit worse if those Dunland men really had attacked me," she added as an afterthought.

What on earth was she rambling on about, she wondered vaguely. She really should go to bed.

Pippin slowly turned his head towards Legolas, raising his eyebrows. The Elf, in turn, had not taken his eyes from Anne, though it seemed to her that his gaze had become a little steely.

She swallowed. "On the other hand, it can't hurt to be on the safe side" she hurried to say, "I mean, if you think it might help…"

Legolas made a strange movement with his head – a sort of tilt and bend at the same time, and Anne couldn't help thinking that it looked slightly mocking.

"I do."

"Oh. Well… thank you, then," said Anne, feeling a bit flustered.

She hastily bade them both good night, before escaping the room.

As she climbed the stairs towards her floor, she dimly wondered what this last bit had been about. Pippin's surprised reaction had seemed strange as well, she thought. While the Elf certainly could be dismissive and rude sometimes, surely it was not such an odd thing, even for him, to advise her to put salve on a wound?

Anne did not puzzle over this for very long, though. By the time she had reached her room, she was back to the question she had been subconsciously asking herself ever since she had gone upstairs to fetch the necklace.

What should she do?

In a way, it had been easier when there had been only one option for her.

Yes, she had felt somewhat gloomy at the prospect of saying goodbye – of watching Legolas leave, knowing she was, in all likelihood, never going to see him again.

As much as she was loath to admit it to herself, she felt drawn to him somehow, and oddly comforted by his presence. Furthermore, for obvious, and ill-fated reasons she felt closer to him than to anyone else right now. The only exception was maybe Pippin, Anne realised. Taking into account that she had only met him a couple of days ago, this was perhaps a bit strange, but due to the Hobbit's open and kind-hearted nature, it was easy to trust him, and it felt like she had known him much longer.

The fact of the matter was: She had become far too attached to the Elf, and, considering that his feelings regarding her could probably be described as tolerating at the best of times, this was absurd and alarming enough in itself.

If she were to decide to stay here, in the relative safety of Bree, would this feeling of isolation leave her? This sensation of somehow being separated from her own life, and from anybody around her - would it disappear at some point? Anne wondered how much she would regret it if she were to stay here, and nothing would change. How was she supposed to make a choice like this overnight?

She wished she could have more time to compare her options. Not that she really had anything to compare, never having been to Eryn Lasgalen – at least not the inhabited part of it. Then, of course, there was Laketown. Should it ever become possible for her to return there, would it be any different from Bree, if she did not remember any of it, nor any of the people who were, hopefully, still safely living there? Would those people remember her, at least, and might that not be better than being surrounded by virtual strangers?

With her thoughts spinning like this, it would be a miracle if she found any rest at all tonight, Anne thought morosely, much less the peace of mind to make a not-rushed, but well-considered decision. When she drifted into an uneasy sleep several hours later, her last coherent thought was that – should all else fail – she could always flip a coin.

:::

After Anne had left the room, the men retired to the more comfortable armchairs by the fireplace, where they settled next to each other; Legolas with his goblet in hand and a jug of wine on the floor beside him, Pippin with a large mug of beer. The room was warm and cosy, the lights dimmed now that the candles from the table had been extinguished, and the only sound was the snapping, spitting, and crackling from the burning pine logs. There was a moment of companionable silence, during which Pippin peered at Legolas over the rim of his mug.

The Elf, giving no indication that he had noticed, poured himself another cup of wine, and then proceeded to stare at the contents pensively, before taking a sip and grimacing slightly. "This wine is terrible."

"I am sure it could never rival the stuff you might be served at home, or in any elvish company, for that matter," Pippin said quickly. "Why did you ask her whether she had been hit?"

Legolas looked up from his goblet, raising an eyebrow.

"I beg you pardon?"

"Why did you ask her if any of those Dunlanders attacked her?" Pippin clarified, a little impatient.

"I should have thought you would think it remiss of me not to ask such a thing."

"I am no fool Legolas, and I'm a father - I know when someone is stalling. You know that nobody laid a finger on her, since I told you everything that happened this morning, blow by blow, so to speak." The Hobbit frowned suddenly, his face darkening. "Unless you heard something… or sensed something from her somehow –"

Legolas held up a hand, shaking his head.

"No, Pippin, you need not worry. I heard or 'sensed' nothing of the sort. Aside from the fact that she apparently spent most of the day in her room, I doubt that the landlord or any of the servants would have failed to notice it, had she left the inn. Also, I do not take her for the sort of person who would keep any such thing to herself. She is hopelessly incapable of concealing her feelings. At any rate, she seemed genuinely taken aback when I asked her."

Pippin stared at him for a second. "Well, you certainly know her better than I thought you did. However…"

He suddenly looked shrewdly at the Elf. "Does that mean that you thought I glossed over some of what happened at breakfast?"

Legolas smiled thinly. "I am almost certain that you did."

"Now, Legolas, I must say it saddens me that you seem to have so little trust in an old friend," Pippin said with mild indignation. "While I might perhaps not say it to your face that this sullen look of yours that you seem to have adopted of late doesn't suit you at all, I wouldn't have expected you to believe me capable of deliberately keeping something important from you!"

Laughing softly, Legolas held up both his hands, by way of apology. "I suspect I deserve that. My dear Pippin, I do not doubt your sincerity, but will you deny that you have left out the odd word Anne might have said in her fury? For all her quiet brooding, she can be rather candid at times, I did notice that by now."

"I would have thought that the things I repeated to you were already candid enough," muttered Pippin, "without suspecting that I had left something out. But even if I had – why on earth would I not tell you if someone had seriously hurt her?"

"Perhaps you thought I would consider it my responsibility to ensure that the culprit be punished, and do something rash?"

Pippin frowned, staring into the hearth and fidgeting with the mug between his hands. "Assuming that I had indeed thought along those lines, would I have been wrong in that assessment?"

Legolas gazed pensively into the fire, as if considering the Hobbit's question.

"I expect we shall never find out."

"Perhaps that's just as well," Pippin muttered. "I hope we have established then, that I did indeed tell you everything that has occurred? I kept nothing from you, not even the meekest expletive."

"I would not exactly have held it against you," Legolas replied with a faint smile. "You were kind to protect her as you did."

"Well, yes. Whatever you may say about Anne, the lass has got her heart in the right place, and a rather stout heart, for that matter, unless I am quite mistaken."

Legolas inclined his head. "I will not deny that."

Pippin peered up at him. "You do realise that she really meant no harm by what she said? She defended you fiercely – I was quite a bit touched, to tell you the truth."

"Yes, so you have told me. I do hope that you did not phrase it quite like that while talking to her."

"Well – I might have mentioned something about being impressed by her defending you so, if you must know – the fact that she did it at all, not the manner in which she did it, mind you. I suppose it's safe to assume that you didn't tell her any of the sort?"

Legolas sighed. "No, Pippin, of course I did not. While I am aware that she meant well, and that you in your kindness were presumably trying to assure her of that, I am not entirely sure that it was all that wise."

"Oh, don't think that I didn't impress upon her the foolishness of her little rant. I will admit, though, that I felt a bit sorry for the poor thing. You should have seen her face when she realised what she had done. To tell you the truth, I think she is a bit timid of you."

Legolas raised an eyebrow.

"Are you, perhaps, suggesting that I am being too severe with her? Should I rather hold her hand, while telling her to think nothing of it, and not to heed the inclemencies of life?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Pippin said impatiently. "I am simply saying that today, Anne has shown not only loyalty to you, but quite a bit of courage also. Surely, not even you will argue that?"

"No, but that is precisely my point. I am in no need of her loyalty, as you so grandiosely put it, and if she does not learn to rein in that temper of hers she will get herself into serious trouble at some point. It was not the first time, either – although she certainly surpassed herself with today's incident, if your account of it is anything to go by."

"What do you mean?" Pippin asked, looking curious. "Did something similar happen before?"

The Elf shook his head. "Nothing of importance, and also no harm came from it, since it was mostly directed at me."

He glanced at Pippin, who was now grinning slightly, looking even more curious than before. Ignoring the Hobbit's prying eyes, Legolas went on.

"It is hardly a laughing matter, Pippin – not if this turns out to be a habit of hers."

Pippin stifled his laughter, trying to look contrite. "Yes, yes, I know. And it's true, I have never seen a woman behave like that. Certain Hobbit-lasses, and –ladies I'm afraid, might be a different matter, but that's not the point, I think."

"No, indeed. And she is no Hobbit, I think we can agree on that at least. Under no circumstances would such behaviour be accepted amongst human company – or even elvish company - no matter what her social background be. Surely, even a highborn lady of Men, which she is not if I am not very much mistaken, would never dream of acting in such a way."

"You are right, I suppose," Pippin sighed. He then looked at the Elf inquiringly. "You have no idea about her then? Who she might be… or rather, has been?"

Legolas wearily shook his head. "As I told you last night – While I have visited Laketown and have met its mayor more than once, I know nothing of his children. The garments she brought with her would indicate that she does not come from a humble household, however –"

"They might not even be hers," Pippin finished the sentence for him.

"No."

The Hobbit looked at him inquiringly. "There is something else, though, isn't there? You don't sound convinced."

Legolas did not immediately respond, but gazed into the fire for a moment. Pippin took a sip from his beer while keeping his eyes closely on the motionless form of his old friend. Finally, he leaned forward.

"Legolas?"

The Elf glanced up at him and back towards the fire, then gave a very slight shake of his head.

"It is a mere feeling, and there is, perhaps no deeper meaning in it. However, the strongest thing I perceive from her is a sense of… not belonging. I cannot think of a way to phrase it better. I think she even had half a mind of speaking to me about it the other day."

"You mean, 'belong' here in Bree?" Pippin asked in some bewilderment. "But that is to be expected, surely? After all, she has only just arrived here, and wherever she hails from, it clearly isn't Bree, or someone would have recognised her."

"I do not think it has anything to do with this town – or any other place, if I were to guess. I can tell that she consciously feels it as well, but this… lack of belonging, if you will, it rather seems as if it is more general. Almost as if it was about her whole being, inextricably linked with her existence. It did not begin after we came here, either. I was aware of it since the day I first met her, and while it appeared to grow less as we travelled, it has become stronger again."

Pippin stared at him, open-mouthed.

"But what on earth do you think that means? You do not believe it might be simply due to her memory loss?"

"I have little experience in such matters, but I do not think so, no." He looked intently at Pippin. "The truth is – it has been reminding me of something, even though I was not certain what it was. Only recently, I realised where I have sensed this sort of thing before, or rather with whom - this feeling that a person does not quite belong. They might be here for some strange reason of doom - but by the laws of the mortal world they should not be."

"You have lost me, my friend!" Pippin was shaking his head and chuckling quietly. "Will you explain this riddle to me, or do I have to guess?"

"I cannot explain it I fear, but I shall tell you who I was thinking of, even though you of all people should know."

"Oh, now you are just being… ah… hold on a second!" Pippin's eyes grew wide. "No, you cannot possibly mean… Gandalf!?"

When he saw Legolas slowly incline his head, and smile softly at the memory of the wizard, Pippin slowly lowered his mug, while staring at the Elf in utter confusion.

"But how would that be possible? She cannot have come from the west, you know that much better than I do!"

"I did not claim she did – for that would indeed be impossible. The thing about her that reminds me of Mithrandir is not her nature, or a notion of some hidden power, or any such thing. It is that sensation… as if she were in a place because of some strange fate – not because she hails from it. Or, as you might perhaps phrase it yourself, 'it just does not feel natural'. This is also part of my reason to think that Bree might not be the best place for her, after all."

"But if that were true," Pippin said slowly, still looking utterly baffled, "And I must say, I would believe you were jesting, had I not seen a fair amount of strange and extraordinary things for myself. But if your instincts are true, and yet she does not come from the west - then where does she come from?"

"I cannot say," Legolas said quietly. "It is clear that she does not know herself, and as I said – it is a mere feeling. I might be mistaken."

"Hmm… you might be."

"It would not be the first time."

There was another moment of quiet before Pippin glanced at his friend again. The Elf looked languid and at ease; long legs outstretched in front of him, and his head leaned back, his dark, softly gleaming hair spread across the backrest of his armchair. The winecup dangled from his fingertips and his grey eyes were half-closed.

The Hobbit sank deeper into his chair and stretched his own legs in an attempt to get his feet closer to the warming hearth fire. "So, what do you think would be best?"

Legolas' listless gaze did not stray from the fire. "Hm?"

"For Anne to stay here in Bree or to go back with you?"

Legolas remained quiet for so long that Pippin began to suspect that he might have indeed fallen into slumber, but then the Elf sighed and said darkly, "Truth be told, I should be more content were she under sound custody."

"You mean under yours?"

Legolas raised one shoulder in an elegant half-shrug. "Or any that I might rely on." A smile flickered across his fair face as he glanced down at the Hobbit, and with his free arm reached across the space between their chairs to rest his long, white hand briefly on Pippin's curly head. "Were she but truly a Hobbit-lass, and I could idly entrust her to you and the tranquil confines of the Shire."

Pippin chuckled at the idea. "Would that you could. Well, even if no Hobbit-lass, as long as she's peaceful, that one is entertaining company. She's pretty in a way, or would be if you were to spruce and feed her up a bit." The Elf threw him a sidelong glance and raised one eyebrow - a skill that Pippin was rather envious off, to be honest.

"Why should I spruce her up?" said Legolas, sounding mildly irritated. "I doubt that she wishes to stay in Bree, she was discontented with having to come here in the first place. Tree, road and rock care little about surcoats, cauls, and girdles, nor boning and lace."

"For someone who claims to have no interest in such things you seem to know a disturbingly great deal about them," Pippin murmured, though somewhat impressed. "I seem to recall that boning has something to do with ladies' underlinens, so I won't enquire, but what on earth are cauls?"

Legolas waved his slender hand dismissively. "Something like a net, or lace-cap women wear on their hair."

"Why would they wear nets on their hair, they wouldn't even be weatherproof. Anyway, I can see your point, I suppose." Pippin sniggered. "Though I wouldn't mind seeing Anne's reaction if you told her to wear one of those caul-things. At least, she blushes rather nicely and I've seldom seen such lovely freckles, unless on Sam's Elanor, perhaps, wouldn't you agree?"

Legolas, who had leaned forward to pour himself more wine, glanced disinterestedly over his shoulder. "If you say so; I do not notice such things much, I admit."

Pippin cast his friend an impish smirk. "Perhaps you should strive to notice them a tad more, it might improve that sullen mood of yours."

"That is quite a bit of stock to put into a maid's dimples, no matter where they be located," said Legolas impertinently, while settling back into his chair.

"Now, that's just very prideful and lordly talk, Legolas," Pippin sniggered. "Also quite rude, if I may say so."

"'Twas you who started the talk," the Elf pointed out indolently, resting his head against the chair once more. "Though I will admit that it was rude. I am too weary to react more graciously to your shenanigans tonight, I fear."

"All right, all right, I'm sorry."

Pippin took a deep draught of his beer and stared at the fire for a while, before saying cautiously, "Do you think it possible that Anne might have something to do with this order, even if she doesn't remember it?"

"I cannot say," Legolas said distantly.

"Right," Pippin muttered, voicing something he had been wondering about, "but let's say she did: if that were the case, isn't it possible that those order-people might come looking for her?"

"If that were the case, yes."

Pippin tapped his fingers against his mug, then glanced at Legolas. "And might that be part of the reason why you offered her to come back east with you? Because you're afraid that they might come for her," he returned his gaze to his mug, before continuing in a calculated voice, "or because you hope that they might?"

The Elf did not react immediately; after a long moment though, he turned his head to look at Pippin. His large, clear eyes were reflecting the light of the fire. "Would you believe that I might use her in such a manner?"

Only for a second, Pippin hesitated. "No," he murmured, "I wouldn't. Forgive me, my friend."

They both fell silent after this. Pippin sipped from his mug, frowning sometimes, and still trying to get his head around everything that Legolas had told him this evening. After several minutes, the Hobbit straightened up in his chair, finally having made up his mind.

"Legolas," he said slowly, his eyes on the mug in his hands. When I was talking to Anne, she mentioned something to me. You must not be angry with her, since she did it in an offhanded way, and it was clear that she did not realise the significance it might hold for me. She was not betraying your trust, merely making an innocent observation, as far as she was concerned, of that I'm certain. If anything, she confirmed something that anyone who knows you well would have noticed at once."

He glanced at the Elf.

"I realise you might not be willing to speak of this… but for the sake of our friendship, I can't let you part without having tried to do so."

Looking up, he saw that Legolas had stiffened, and while he was still staring into the flames, there was something about his expression – a mixture between resignation and dark anticipation that Pippin had never seen on him before. It only steeled his resolve to speak.

"You know, a little over a year ago, I travelled to the south to visit Aragorn. I was sorry not to have met you, but you were back in Rhovanion at that time. Anyway, it was back then that I first heard of these things. The men in Gondor, they spoke about a new threat - rabbles of orcs turning up again, trolls coming down from the mountains, and... other things. Two men came to Gondor while I was there, messengers from their village in South Dorwinion. They told of the same evils, confirming the rumours, but also of something else. Not far from their village, there suddenly had appeared strange, low, black buildings, but they looked more like barrows, so they said, and the men swore that they had not been there before. No one wished to go near them; they said those things had something ominous and sinister about them, and that they caused an oppressive feeling. In the end, one brave soul went to investigate them, but that man… they said, something terrible happened to him."

Shuddering, Pippin stared into the fire, as if its warmth might somehow suppress the feeling of cold dread that this memory seemed to have caused in him.

"Apparently, nobody knew exactly what had occurred, or had witnessed anything, but they seemed to believe that… that the man had somehow lost his mind. As if something had driven him insane. Aragorn was very worried - apparently there had been reports of similar happenings elsewhere, too. While it all seemed to have started somewhere near the Iron Hills, they said it had to originally come from further north – or perhaps eastwards from Rhun. No one really knew what to make of it, but it was said that the human settlements near those areas were being abandoned, one after the other. Also, Thorin Stonehelm and his people had left their realm and retreated back to Erebor – those of them who dwelled there at the time, I mean."

Pippin regarded Legolas cautiously, as if trying to gauge his reaction.

"I did not stay long after that. To tell you the truth, I had not thought I would live to see such things again," he muttered, "It was all very disconcerting. I know that Aragorn was planning to send men to the north-east, however.

He looked back at Legolas, who was still showing no reaction or acknowledgement to what Pippin was telling him. If there seemed to be a slight tension around his lips and eyes, it might have been caused by the play of light and shadow from the flames.

"I knew that something was happening. Even in the Shire, we hear news every now and then, albeit little. But then – when I came to Rivendell last month…"

Pippin looked at Legolas more intently now, but also with a hint of sorrow on his face.

"I met Glorfindel there, Legolas. I had not seen him in many years, and he was, in fact, preparing to leave and travel east, and to your father's realm, but he was still kind enough to spare some time for me, and we talked long. Two messengers from Elrohir and Elladan had visited Minas Tirith a little while after me. They had just returned home, shortly before my arrival in Rivendell, and they returned with dark tidings.

"Those men, Aragorn had sent – they had not come back. Not one of them. Apparently many months had gone by without a word from them, and then another group of ten or so – both Elves and Dúnedain from Ithilien - rode after them, although Aragorn was against this, it was said. That second group also never send word… nor did they return, so it seems. Or, at least they had not returned at the time the messengers – who had extended their stay even, hoping for news from them, so I believe – set out back for Rivendell at last – and that was several months after that party had left."

There was a pause. Pippin glanced at Legolas, who seemed to have become even stiller than before. When he continued, his voice was barely audible over the low crackling and spitting of the fire.

"Faramir seemed to believe that you were considering to accompany that party, but apparently no one was clear on whether you had ridden with them, or journeyed back to Eryn Lasgalen to report to your father."

When Pippin glanced up at Legolas again, he was startled to see that the Elf had turned his head and was looking straight at him; there was such an utter darkness and despair in his eyes that, for a moment, Pippin felt as though all the air and light had vanished from the room. When he finally found his voice again, it sounded hoarse, even to his own ears.

"But you did ride with them, didn't you? Did… did you find Aragorn's men? If the messengers had waited, would they, perhaps, have been able to ease our worries? What did you –"

"Twelve."

Legolas had spoken softly, as if to himself. He slowly lowered his gaze towards the fire, but then his eyes were seeking Pippin's face once more. The Hobbit was looking at him, frowning in incomprehension.

"There were twelve of us. Five Ellyn and seven Dúnedain. And it would not have mattered whether the messengers had waited or not. It was over, long before they returned to Imladris."

"What was over? And if you went with eleven others, where have they got to, if they haven't gone back to Gondor?"

Pippin had the strange sensation of not getting quite enough air again. As if something invisible, big and greedy was using it all up. Legolas had turned his face back towards the fire, the flame's tiny reflections mirrored in his eyes. Just when Pippin felt sure that the Elf wouldn't say any more, Legolas spoke, his voice gentle, his gaze still fixed on the dancing flames.

"I killed them."

:::

III III III

Ellyn {pl} - male Elves

AN: A long chapter with even LONGER conversations, so it seems... I know it has been a lot of talking lately, but some of those confrontations have been overdue, really :-/

Ironically, there isn't much to say about this part. I'm sorry for the 'pimply youth' ;) yet again (poor guy, I realise he can probably not even be called two-dimensional )

One thing I should mention, perhaps, before anyone gets a chance to complain: When Pippin is speaking about Thorin, it should be noted that this is NOT Thorin Oakenshield (for obvious reasons), who journeyed with Bilbo to Erebor, but Thorin Stonehelm, who was the son of Dáin II, and, for all we know, the lord over the Iron Hills since after the war of the ring – if there has indeed been a dwarven population there again, something on which Tolkien was not quite clear.

Of course, if you have questions or suggestions, let's hear it

I can't promise that I will be able to post the next chapter as quickly as this one; I'm working a lot on this story, and usually get a little bit done every other day or so (While on the train f.e.), but since I write a lot of it by hand, it is the editing and typing it out, which really takes up most of the time. I'll do my best though

And – as ever – my sincere thanks to everyone reading this story, and especially those who take the time to tell me their thoughts about it. It means more to me than you think