Authors' Note: Now I know everyone is going to review cos this is a long, long, long chappie and the precursor to the chapter in which both parties will be leaving Rivendell! YAY I hear you scream. . . well don't get ahead of yourselves. . .my ability to continue on to the next chapter and time in which it will take me to do it all depends on you lot reviewing!!!! MWHAAAAAA HAAAAAA (evil laugh) Please review and thanks to those who did. I really like hearing what you think, critical or not. Thanks a mill and enjoy!!!!
The journey to the river just outside the main entrance of Rivendell was a peaceful one. The moon seemed to glance off the smooth stone of the entrance arch while illuminating the ground before Indil as she left the paved courtyard behind for the less smooth walkways that bordered the protective stream. The woods beyond were covered in the gentle glow of the heavens outlining each and every individual tree against the black darkness of the lower halves of the Misty Mountains. Cloak billowing around her frame Indil permitted the night chill to sharpen her senses to every brush of cloth against her skin, every crunch of gravel beneath her boots as she picked her way down toward the bridge.
Very few creatures disturbed the otherwise quiet aura of the surrounding area; the silent beat of the owls' wings on the air, the rustling of shrews amongst the now well dried leaves. . . . all added to the serene quality of the night. All was hushed, tranquil in Indils' wake . . . well almost everything. One sound did not quite fit the aural picture forming in the Istars' mind . . . . that restrained placement of soft leather on clay ground. Barely audible but unique in comparison to the other sounds that detailed the soothing atmosphere encompassing Indil. Relaxing into a leisurely gait Indil reluctantly pulled her pace back into check and allowed her mind to race ahead.
'The clearing beyond the rapids should provide an ideal perspective. . . . the water is still enough. . . hopefully I am right in the assumption they are an elf. . .'
Unconsciously she felt the pieces of a plan fall into place as if she had spent days preparing; slotting mentally into a rational structure that intuitively made sense. Visualising the entire process Indil did not stop to admire the view from the Bruinen bridge but continued on seamlessly as if lost in another realm of thought. Her wordless companion proceeded in the same manner as the Istar; oblivious to everything but the object of their concern and interest.
As the distance between the trees widened Indil slowed her pace to that of a crawl alluding to the fact she was preparing to stop. Bending to examine some wildflowers, crocuses in fact, she steadied herself for the next step in her scheme. The roar of the rapids was now indistinct and distant indicating that she was now far enough for the widening of the river to take effect. Picking out the ledge she needed Indil straightened and purposefully sat down angling her body to allow the upper portion of the forest behind her to be visible if she so chose. Tucking her legs beneath her she feigned a curiosity in a tuft of moss peeping out of the ledge while surreptitiously leaning forward to peer into the now still water.
'A few seconds is all I have, now if you are an elf the logical thing is to position yourself in the . . . yes. . .'
Just on the periphery of her view from the moon brilliant water sat a figure nestled in amongst the branches, then as soon as they had appeared they were gone.
Indil smiled victoriously, skimming her fingertips above the glass-like surface. It had been only a brief flash or so of her guardian but it was more than enough for Indil to distinguish the features of one of Mirkwoods' sentinels. One of those that had accompanied Prince Legolas to Rivendell as part of his guard, one whom only responded to the orders of Mirkwoods ruling family, one who had been directed to follow her for some purpose.
'I wonder if they realise I saw them?. . . perhaps. . . what I do not know now will be crystal clear on the morrow. . .'
Resting herself along the bank Indil watched the water flies dart about as if they were hopping on land; surefooted and graceful in their leaps. She could smell the earth beneath her nose, the blades of grass tickling her arm and cheek. . . all the while that distinct sound of soft leather leapt from the lower branches of a forest fir and landed firmly on the ground before dashing back in the general direction of the Last Homely House.
'Yes all shall be revealed or I shall ascertain the truth myself. . .'
A Few Days Previously. . . .
Daeron pushed the doors of the library apart fluidly and slid between them quickly before shutting them quietly behind him. Pausing for a moment the complete lack of noise informed him that he was alone. Moving cautiously he glanced behind each row of bookshelves before allowing himself to relax fully.
'The curse of a Mirkwood guard. . . to be ever vigilant. . . even in a library.'
Striding to the first window at the top of the room he glanced immediately beneath and above the openings to ensure that there was no chance of eavesdropping. Satisfied that each was clear he stopped to enjoy the sight of Rivendells greal library. Master Elrond was a widely known and respected scholar as was Lord Erestor; over the years they had accumulated between them quite a selection of priceless artefacts and accounts. Daeron had visited the library before but then just as now it had been at the behest of Prince Legolas; he had not the time to enjoy the facility himself but retrieve the required text and leave.
Counting at least fifteen rows of book shelves on either side of the main walkway he noted each section as he passed. . . herbology. . . magics. . . history. . . geography . . . metal working . . . the list was endless.
Moving among the rows of books he recognised various tomes of writings that detailed everything. . . from herb lore to warfare to the growth rate of different types of tree. Every manuscript was delicately bound in hard wearing leather to protect it from damage as much as was possible. Leathers of different colours were complimented by varying degrees of decorative symbols, coloured stitching and metal inlays; the preparation of one alone must require the workmanship of several elves. A large book bound in green leather with golden fastening thread grabbed his attention. Leaves of various shapes and sizes were coloured gold and surrounded by exquisite vines that flattered both the leaves and title. Leaning slightly to the side he read the ancient script. . . . the writings of. . . Greenwood . . . the Great. . .
'There is one volume that might interest Lord Legolas. . .'
As he moved steadily on the writings concerning each elven realm ended with mortal realms of Gondor and Arnor taking precedence as well as those of dwarven origin such as Moria. Slotted quite covertly between the diaries of Ecthelion the second and Thengel of Rohan was a slight volume of plain binding in comparison to those previously observed.
'Concerning the peoples of Eriador with particular reference to the Halflings of the Shire or Hobbits. . . I wonder does Master Bilbo know of its existence. .'
The creaking of doors tore Daeron from his reverie as he cocked his ear to one side. Flattening his back against the end of the shelf he moved slowly; gradually revealing the doors and their entrant to him.
Stepping out from his place Daeron bowed formally.
"My Lord, I have come as instructed."
Prince Legolas nodded tersely before moving toward the nearest window and briefly scanned the walkway below.
"No one saw you?"
Daeron took the sombre quality to Prince Legolas mood in his stride.
"No my Prince. I was extremely careful as was instructed."
Slowly the Prince moved away from the window and allowed his face to relax slightly.
"My apologies Daeron, I do not doubt your ability. It is without match, which you have proven on several occasions."
Daeron smiled in return, this was more comfortable and usual speech for his Prince.
"No apologies are necessary my Lord. It is clear you have something of importance on your mind or you would not have instructed me thus."
Prince Legolas did not answer immediately. Walking the length of a book shelf he locked his hands behind his back and stared inattentively into the distance. Daeron remained motionless and held his tongue; he, better than anyone, recognised when the Prince was trying to organise his thoughts before speaking. After repeating the above pattern for some time Prince Legolas suddenly stopped and focused on the patient Mirkwood sentinel.
"Daeron I need you to realise the full import of what I am about to ask you to do. It will not be an easy task nor will it seem particularly right of me to request it of you but I assure you right now that secrecy is absolutely necessary."
Daeron listened carefully to what the Prince had to say, noting the determination that shone in his leaders eyes.
"My Lord I would not question any instruction you should give me. I trust that you are doing what you are doing for a purpose and a righteous one at that. I have no doubts in you, my Lord.
Prince Legolas' shoulders slackened somewhat at Daerons' brief speech, his burden lessened for whatever reason.
"Thank you for your loyalty. My logic concerning what I am about to ask of you is with regard to the upcoming mission I shall be part of. There is no higher cause. . ."
Moving forward Prince Legolas placed his hands on Daerons' shoulders. The added weight of this action forced Daeron to look him straight in the eye.
"Daeron ever have you been a loyal and faithful servant, you have accompanied me on countless hunts and journeys. I now call upon every ounce of that courage and bravery for this task."
Daeron felt the subtle increase of pressure on either side of his neck.
"I need you to follow the Lady Indil. I need you to follow her night, noon and morn; not a moment are you to allow her to vanish from her sight. I have to know if the Lady Indil meets with Lord Boromir, the Gondorian."
Fleetingly the image of a tall, strong man flashed in Daerons' mind.
"I need to know what they talk of, how they act. . . everything Daeron. I need to know everything. You will report to me daily on the occurrences you have noted and observed."
Prince Legolas removed his hold on the ellon before him swiftly disliking the forcefulness with which he had conducted himself. Stepping back he allowed Daeron some time to absorb the information that he had received. There had been shock in Daerons' eyes. . . however brief . . . he knew what he had seen. Daeron did not reply for a while.
"It will be done my Lord."
Prince Legolas looked up from the books he had been assiduously studying in the hope of ignoring the awkwardness of the whole situation he found himself in.
"Very well. Daeron no one must know of this. . . the other guards, Master Elrond, Lord Aragorn. . . no one you understand. . "
"Yes my Lord. Not a soul."
"Do you remember the stag Daeron? The large one that every ellon had been trying to capture for weeks. My father wanted that stag more than anything and he assigned you to record its movements if I remember correctly?"
Daeron recovered from the change in direction quite quickly.
"Yes my Lord. I followed the animal for almost three weeks."
"Well if I am right then after three weeks you reported to my father who followed you out into the wood. Hours later you both returned with the stag. This is the exact same Daeron."
"I understand my Lord, I shall track and follow every movement of the Lady Indil."
"Very well Daeron. You start today."
Daeron nodded succinctly as he turned toward the entrance to the library.
'Yes my Lord this is very like that hunt but there is one main difference. That was a stag. . . this is an Istar. . .'
Legolas, arms crossed tightly, paced anxiously in his chambers. Regretting absently opening the drapes that had protected his rooms from the cold wind he ignored the breeze that was lifting several strands of his hair into his face. Glancing yet again in the direction of the silent doorway he frowned. Where was Daeron?
Moving to the oak desk provided in the corner he pushed the crumpled remains of an attempt at writing to one side. Drawing a fresh sheet from the once orderly stack in front of him Legolas stared intently at the swirling grained patterns. Quill sharpened and freshly dipped the Prince thought for a moment before resting his forearm on the desk. The quill hovered above the page for a while before, slowly, the words began to come. . . Father, my King . . . I have decided . . .
How could explain his actions. . . he knew very well why he had chosen to join the Fellowship. . . it was his duty to represent his people, Aragorn would need all the support he could find and . . . and . . . he needed to. He needed to take his choice in his own hands, needed to decide for himself. . . he could just imagine it now. . . how furious his father would be. . .
Laying the quill to one side Legolas rested his face in his palms; their cool presence, in an odd way, comforting to feel. Closing his eyes he tried to block out the noises of the household in the early morning, the sounds of the already awakened forest. Breathing deeply he tried to relax each muscle from his legs to his shoulders. . . he had not realised how tense he had been. Then again he had been under some stress recently. . . Daeron had not noticed anything suspicious yet but Legolas was sure that something was going on. Why would Lady Indil take such an interest in Boromir? The son of a Steward who trusted few beyond his own walls. What had his father said. . . the apple does not fall far from the tree? He did not trust Boromir. . . whatever protestations Boromir had made he had seen that shine when he had spoken of his dream. . . the glimpse of greed when the ring had been produced. He was a liability, too much of a liability.
The ringing of footsteps sounded loudly throughout the hall interrupting any train of thought that the Prince had been following. Legolas rose speedily to open his door where he was greeted with the sight of a slightly haggard and obviously unsettled Daeron, fist raised to knock on the thick wooden entrance.
"What has happened?" questioned Legolas as Daeron moved past him and into the room. The ellon was so flustered he even forgot to bow before addressing his Prince.
"My Lord I sincerely apologise. . . .I did not realise. . . I should have known, she has never behaved in such a manner. . ."
"Calm yourself Daeron, breathe. . ." muttered Legolas, trying to stop the guard in front of him from rambling.
It was not often that a Mirkwood sentinel lost their senses; the only time Legolas had ever seen such a thing was when the poison of a Mirkwood spider had managed to infiltrate the bloodstream of a severely injured warrior. The ellon had sweated and shook in such a manner that all thought he had gone past the point of any remedy.
Guiding him to his former seat Legolas indicated that Daeron should be quiet for a moment. Checking the balcony and door he moved back to face the now calmer ellon.
"What has happened?" he asked slowly.
Daeron swallowed slightly averting his gaze from the Prince in front of him.
"This morning the Lady Indil left her room, early this morning. The moon was still high in the sky and there was no sign of dawn for another couple of hours. I followed her to the courtyard where she met Lord Boromir who was also walking in the fresh air. Lady Indil inquired after Lord Boromir who explained that he had had trouble sleeping and such. They then turned to the gardens where they sat for a while discussing the Steward sons' dream and worries about the upcoming venture. Shortly afterward both walked back to their respective rooms. I believed her to have retired for the night. . ."
"She had not however. . ." concluded Legolas.
Nodding quickly Daeron continued with his narrative.
"Surprised that she had re-emerged I was, perhaps, less prepared than I should have been. I followed her in any case to the entrance to Rivendell and beyond. Lady Indil crossed the bridge and strolled through the wood. She did stop once to study some crocuses but moved on then to a clearing further down the river, beyond the rapids. I did as I have always done. . . left a good distance between us, took to the trees rather than the noisier forest floor. . . When I once again reached her she was placing herself on a ledge beside the Bruinen. I was now at the top of a tree a little way back from the edge of the clearing and so presumed I was safe. . ."
"Daeron I cannot understand your worry. You did everything possible right. . ."
Daeron looked up at Legolas ashamedly.
"It is not finished my Lord. I believed myself to be hidden and therefore safe. The Lady Indil did move forward but only to investigate a growth of moss on the side of the bank. . . or so I thought. . . I could have sworn she looked directly at me in the reflection of the still river water. . ."
Legolas inhaled sharply; this had not been what he had expected from one of Mirkwoods' finest trackers and hunters. Daeron heard the intake of breath and winced, his shame could not be paralleled at this moment.
"Are you sure she saw you?" inquired Legolas after what had seemed to Daeron a very long time.
"I did not check, my Lord. I immediately left my place and moved farther back into the wood. I then came here almost instantly to report to you."
Legolas began pacing steadily muttering to himself and stopping every once in a while to gaze at the stone wall only to resume his pacing. Daeron was trying his very best to maintain a serene exterior but inwardly he was at the end of his tether by the time Prince Legolas addressed him once again.
"Daeron I need you to recall every moment. Did anything seem strange to you about Lady Indils' actions or words?"
Daeron paused before answering.
"No, my Lord. Then again the way she walked. . . it was if she were deliberately slower than normal but I do not think it was by a significant amount."
"Was there anything else? How did she react when she saw you?"
This time it was Daerons' time to stand and pace as he retraced his steps over the past couple of hours.
"I did not notice anything afterward, she did not move or confront me. She simply traced the water with her fingers and relaxed. Truthfully my Lord I did not wait to find out for certain."
Legolas looked at the ellon before him incredulously. Crossing his arms he began to pace the floor earnestly til Daeron thought a long groove would appear in the stone he tread on. Stopping abruptly he turned to the surprised guard.
"You did not wait!!! How can we be certain then if she saw you? Your very flight condemns you! Did anyone follow you?"
Daeron squirmed unconsciously under the stern glare emitting from the Princes' eyes.
"No my Lord."
"Are you sure?" reiterated Legolas, grounding out every syllable through pursed lips.
"Yes my Prince. No one followed me back to Rivendell."
Sighing tiredly Legolas collapsed onto his bed.
"Then perhaps we are safe. If she did not give chase we cannot know for certain if she saw you. . ."
Both ellons knew themselves that this was hopeless grasping of straws but when faced with a certain situation desperate measures almost appear logical.
"It is all we can hope for. . . Daeron return to the others and not a word. Nothing has occurred. . . you understand. . . nothing has changed. Resume your watch this evening, we only have one more day."
Daeron nodded dutifully before bowing and striding out the door.
To any innocent onlooker the morning meal in the Great Hall of theHouse of Elrond seemed a quiet affair, quiet. . . and perhaps somewhat subdued. Then again anyone closer still would know that this was perfectly acceptable considering what some of the company would be embarking on the very next morn. To some however there existed the subtle thread of tension between several of those seated at the grand table.
Lord Elrond presided over the whole situation contentedly ignoring as best he could the mute glances, secretive observations and whispered conversations taking place. Gandalf however was not so calm as to acquiesce to this mode and was trying to engage the newly formed fellowship in any form of communal conversation possible.
"Well my dear Hobbits we shall come across many a great wonder on our journey. Several of your companions are quite knowledgeable, take the time to appreciate the stories they have. . . ," glancing around the table Gandalf picked the most relaxed of all present to begin with, "Gimli. . .is not the sight of the snow-capped Misty Mountains a marvel to behold?"
Holding up his hand the dwarf belched as silently as possible before answering.
"Aye Gandalf ye be right in sayin' that. . . truly beautiful is rock when viewed in the gleam of the brilliant snows. Now dwarves like myself are built for cold weather but. . ."
The Hobbits glanced surreptitiously at one another as the dwarf, lost in his own world, relayed all to be known about the survival qualities inherent in the dwarven race.
Indil grinned at her associate across the table who looked to be regretting his choice in advocate.
'That shall keep the Hobbits busy I suppose. . .' she thought as they turned to face the dwarf and listen as attentitively as they could with food in front of them, polite to the last.
Raising her eyes she caught the look of suspicion firmly planted, more frequently in recent days, on the Prince of Mirkwoods' face. Anytime she met or looked him in the eye all she read there was distrust. His little guard had probably run straight to his leader to report the incident beside the river. . . predictable. . . but all the more pleasing to see the ellon turn from her gaze so soon when a few days ago he would have waited for her to surrender.
'The complete opposite of Boromir. .' she mused turning her sight now on the oblivious Gondorian, who sat talking peaceably with Aragorn.
The two had become more civil, which was thankful since it reduced the number of divisions within the group by one. While they both disagreed on several points they now set them aside and began conferencing to discuss the first leg of their journey together. It had all started quite easily when Boromir had been giving Merry and Pippin a few pointers on using their knives. Aragorn had strolled by only stopping for a moment to offer some advice and then continued on his way without any further interruption. This of course had developed and now after three days the men could hold a decent and polite conversation as long as they avoided topics that were controversial.
Smiling at Gandalf one last time Indil rose from her seat gracefully and replaced it at the table. Leaving the meal far behind she moved further on through the halls to a place she had not visited for quite some time. . . the forge. The first thing anyone notices about any forge is the heat, searing and breathtaking it shocked Indil for a moment until she moved into it to find an old friend.
"Galion!! Galion!. . ."
Shouting as loudly as possible Indil still did not catch the attention of the sweating ellon pumping the bellows at the very back of the workshop. His dark hair was slicked back from his forehead and tied at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. Dressed in an apron common to all blacksmiths nothing made the master blacksmith stand apart except for his exceptional height, which made the bellows a task of back bending and such. The work was backbreaking and Indil could see that in every movement Galion made. . . the bunching of muscle. . the gritting of teeth. No it was most definitely not an easy job. . .
Moving further into the heat Indil passed racks of fine weaponry, stout shields and decorative utilities. Stopping not a five feet from the blacksmith Indil shouted as loud as she could to be heard above the whooshing of pumped air and roaring fires. Finally the elf glanced up, emerald eyes twinkling, grinned and returned to his work.
'Typical Galion. Always making my life that little bit more difficult. .' huffed Indil, making her sentiments known. . . physically known.
"Oh. . . you still have quite a thump Lady Indil. . ." grumbled Galion, leaving his bellows to the side.
"You know I practice it for just such an occasion. . ." mused Indil aloud.
The blacksmith smiled to himself before motioning that she should follow him to the back of the shop. Several elves moved around she and Galion pumping bellows, beating metal and various other things adding to the cacophony of loud noise beating on Indils' ears . Standing back Galion followed Indil through to the front of the workshop and shut the door firmly behind him immediately quietening the deafening symphony of sound behind.
"I have them right here my Lady. In truth they were not in need of much repair, only a some toughening and such. . ." stated the blacksmith aloud while pulling a tightly bound sack from a shelf.
"I know but when I have the opportunity to use a forge, and one of the finest at that, I cannot help but have them checked." Smiled Indil and the flattered ellon.
Drawing out a shield first she admired the smooth surface that now gleamed in the sparse sunlight of the workshop. Laying it aside she then examined her greaves, newly reinforced and buffed.
"One would think I was going to join the elven armies of Gil-galad!" scoffed Indil, fingering the delicate grooves Galion had placed on the metal.
"Well. . . you cannot expect a blacksmith such as myself not to decorate such metal my Lady. It is like placing a juicy bone in front of a starving dog!"
"I know Galion and thank you. Your craftsmanship is excellent and beautiful. . ." whispered Indil, still entranced by the patterns and motifs on the armour.
Next from the bag came a huge spearhead, sharp and perilous to see. Perilous by nature also it had served Indil well in the previous battles especially its unique talent of being able to slice through a troll without hesitation. The opening in the bottom allowed for easy attachment to a thick staff chosen by the wielder, ornate and deadly it shone brilliantly alongside the shield and greaves.
"What is this Galion? I did not leave anything more for you to do!. . ."
Galion simply grinned and remained silent, fondly watching as Indil peered into the sack. Instead of reaching in she peeled the cloth backward to reveal a shirt of fine chainmail. . . very fine mail . .
"I know you do not like too much armour. . .you prefer leather for what ever reason you might have. . but I could not resist. With the darkness growing ever greater we all need some added protections. It is as light as a feather and will not hinder you in battle. I tested it myself. . ." babbled Galion as the Istar before him explored every aspect of the mail before her.
"Galion how is it so light. . .the only thing. . no. . you should not have!!! I brought that for you!" exclaimed Indil.
"I did not."
"You mean you did not use it?"
"No my Lady. I did not use all the mithril you gave to me all those years ago. I used some. . . it is an experiment myself and Thalion have been working on for a few decades. We only perfected it twenty years ago but it made it possible to make this for you." Smirked Galion, glowing in the knowledge that he knew something the Istar did not.
"What? Is it a new smelting process? A new ore perhaps?" suggested Indil, visibly annoyed at her own ignorance.
"No. . . you will never know. . unless you ask. . ." grinned the blacksmith.
"Wait. . .filings? smelted into the metal?. . . . a new temperature? Varying the bellows? What Galion what?"
"Very well. Myself and Thalion after years of trial and error have finally managed to meld mithril and iron into one entity. Not as good as mithril but not as soft as iron!"
Indil stood astonished at the brilliance of it. The simple brilliance. Galion could not stop smiling and could almost see the cogs turning in the Istars' mind as she worked out the ratios and amounts needed.
"I thought that was impossible." Stated Indil, still stunned at Galions' revelation.
"Ah not impossible but unlikely. I admit we did almost give up for a while but it came to me quite quickly. The smelting process is more complicated. . .you have to file the iron down as fine as possible and then smelt the mithril separately. Then. ."
The explanations continued on for hours but Indil could not but stand in silent rapture at the cleverness of the blacksmith and his brother. His animation at the whole process only made for entertaining listening while also being quite fascinating. Leaving the forge that afternoon she still found herself somewhat confused about the whole process but happy enough with her understanding when the ringing of swords reached her ears.
Boromir stood at one end of the courtyard while Merry and Pippin attacked him on two fronts. The Hobbits were excitedly shouting encouragement at one another while Boromirs' face was the picture of concentration. Indil thought she was imagining it but after some study she could see the tin veil of perspiration over Boromirs' features. Bilbo, Frodo and Sam sat on a bench viewing the whole event with much interest. Indil sat beside Sam who nodded his welcome while comfortably chewing on a apple.
"How long have they been like this?" inquired Indil.
"Oh five minutes or so. Really Merry and Pip are getting quite excited over nothing. . ." muttered Bilbo, dubiously monitoring Boromir for any signs of restraint.
"Uncle you know it has been at least seven minutes and they are doing quite well. Where have you just come from Lady Indil?" smiled Frodo, while patting his Uncles' shoulder indulgently.
"The forge as it just so happens. I think I shall continue on to my rooms, there are still a few things I need to pack and run over before tomorrow." Mused Indil aloud as she rose from her seat and moved off in the direction of her chambers.
Frodo stared after her intensely before tapping Bilbo quite sharply.
"Yes Frodo my lad?" queried Bilbo with one eye on the spectacle before him.
"Where is Lady Indil going? She said she had to pack. Where is she going?"
The slightly frantic note in Frodo's voice made Sam and Bilbo focus their full attention on the Hobbit between them.
"Why Frodo my boy, calm yourself. The Lady Indil is forever on some mission or other. She ups and leaves at any given moment." Soothed Bilbo taking his nephews left hand in his own.
"Quite right Master Bilbo. I heard Strider talking to Lord Elrond. Supposedly the Lady is heading off on some quest. . ." affirmed Sam, nodding in a bobbing motion.
Frodo accepted the answers silently while the other two were distracted by a sudden roar. Boromir pushed all he had at the two Halflings, much to their surprise and detriment. Knocking them over he laughed victoriously as they tried to separate their entangled limbs as quickly as possible.
The whole party laughed at their antics except one who kept looking anxiously in the direction an Istar had taken not a few moments ago.