Revised: 8/25/07

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, Tolkien does. I only own characters not present in any of his works.

So Many Questions

Carts bustled along the streets kicking dust into the afternoon sky. It was cool, but everyone was sweating from the heat produced by the crowd. Market day had come. Everything from vegetables and fruits to swords and shields were being sold in the small, busy square. Haggling among the stands was sprinkled with different accents of Middle Earth.

Many came to the village, but few of its inhabitants left. They had enough adventure, they reckoned, hearing stories from the many that passed through on their way to wherever they were going. Most were simple and led quiet lives. But today, everyone was outside of their homes searching for a bargain. They would say to the vendors their items were not worth so many coins and then go and brag about the deal they got to their neighbors. Children clung to their mother's skirts, faces dirty and small fingers itching to touch the forbidden items throughout the square. Apprentices fetched supplies for masters while other masters handed bought goods to servants to place in baskets. Such was the scene once every two weeks in Bree.

Arnen watched it all through a window of The Prancing Pony. After a week's travel on horseback she and the group of rangers she roamed the Wild with reached the inn. It was a much needed relaxing moment for the score of trekkers. The young woman herself had taken a hot bath and unashamedly stayed in until the water was cool then poured in more hot water until her body was appeased. It was not often enough, she felt, that she got a decent bath. True, she had grown accustomed to the ways of the men that she called brothers; she was still a woman. Every woman needs to spoil herself, at the very least, once a month. Well, she had gone nearly eight without any relief. So when the innkeeper mentioned a bath she nearly kissed his feet in gratitude.

Arnen now wore clean trousers (much to old Butterbur's surprise), an off white linen shirt, and the dark grey cloak that denoted her as a companion to the mysterious rangers. Dark locks were bound away from her face as she sipped at the water in her cup. She paid no mind to the songs being sung inside the inn. A small smile flickered across her lips as she focused her attention on a little one just barely taller than a hobbit.

In the street leading to the square there was a young boy weaving through the crowd. She lost sight of him every so often, but he would return to view a few seconds later. He could not have been more than six years she guessed. A curly mop of sandy blonde hair topped his little head. His cheeks were smudged with dirt and his clothes did not look much better. Some adults eyed him and shook their heads in a scolding manner. Naurig (S. little fire) she had named the boy for he seemed full of life. He did not pay attention to the looks, he just ran and played and laughed to his heart's content. Naurig suddenly smacked into someone and fell on his rump. The man he ran into whirled around. He was a big burly guy Arnen had just seen leave. She stilled instantly and set down her cup. Rolford was his name; he had left the inn drunk.

Rolford turned red and picked the little boy up by his sandy mop of hair. Arnen stood up from her stool by the window slowly. The drunk began to yell at the child. Naurig was crying pitifully. No one around seemed to notice or care what was happening. Suddenly, the big man struck the boy leaving a red mark upon his face. Naurig began to cry harder. The flames of the fireplace in the inn grew hotter. Butterbur yell at his servant for he thought the lad had set more wood on the fire. Arnen took a deep breath attempting to calm her anger and the fire, then silently walked out of The Pony into the street. She could hear what Rolford was saying now, and it made her anger burn even hotter.

"You little bastard! You need to watch where you are goin! I oughta beat you right now! Stop that cryin or I'll give you som'in to cry about! I said stop yer cryin!" He raised his hand to hit the child again.

"Rolford, let the boy go, and do not lay your hand on him."

The man turned his head to see a hooded figure standing a few feet from him. He snarled.

"You stay out of this, ranger. The little brat ought to learn a lesson."

"As should you for striking a child in that way, especially when the child is not your own."

"You lookin to teach me a lesson," Rolford threw the crying boy down, "then come and teach me."

The cloaked figure pulled off the hood and removed the cloak. Rolford guffawed.

"A woman! Why I'll slap you down like I did that child over there."

Arnen said nothing, but stood there ready for his first move. Rolford took a step forward and raised his hand to hit her. The mighty hand came down swiftly. The young woman moved quickly. She grabbed his arm and kicked behind his knee causing him to buckle. He hit the dirt with a loud thump. People on the street stopped to watch the event unfolding before them. Some men were going to move in and help the young woman but when they saw her trip Rolford they decided she would be alright.

No one moved as the drunk slowly got up. Dust clung to his left cheek and his eyes glinted with anger. This time he moved too fast for Arnen. His fist connected with her jaw, and the blow sent her reeling. Her face and neck hurt terribly. She touched her lip and felt blood. The young woman shook her head. Carefully she stood. Rolford was looking at her triumphantly, but before he knew what was happening she was upon him. Her fists connected with his jaw, his stomach, his side. One final uppercut to the chin caused him to topple. His lip was busted; Arnen knew he was going to be in pain in a few hours due to the repeated blows to his side.

"Do not touch another child in that way ever again," her voice was icy with contempt.

Turning on her heel she picked up her cloak and refastened it about her neck. The crowd of people dispersed to spread the new gossip. Arnen looked down to see the young boy standing in front of her looking up with wide brown eyes. She felt her anger melt away as she crouched down to level her eyes with his. Arnen smiled warmly.

"What is your name?"

The little boy's voice was shaky but sweet. "Fastred, son of Malon. I am five."

"My name is Arnen, daughter of Rivendell."

Fastred's brown orbs widened. "Are you an elf?"

Arnen laughed until she saw the boy's face fall. She'd never been asked that question before and what a question it was.

"No, Fastred, I'm not an elf. Elves are taller and much fairer than I. Just like you, I am of the race of Men."

Fastred smiled. His little teeth were white, a very interesting contrast with his grimy face.

"If you are not an elf, then why are your eyes that color?"

Arnen had wondered the same thing almost all of her life. She shrugged, unsure of what answer to give him.

"My father has seen elves here in Bree, but I have never seen one. What are they like? Are they scary? Are there a lot of them? How old can they get? How tall are they?"

Question after question poured from his lips like a stream of water. It was all Arnen could do to keep from laughing and hurting his feelings again. Placing her finger on his little lips, she silenced his interrogating.

"Come with me to the inn. I'll get you some food and drink while I tell you as much as I know about elves."

Standing she took his little hand in hers and led him to The Pony. When she set the boy down across from her at a table by a window Arnen called to Nob. The young hobbit came over to the table.

"Well hey now, what happened to you? And why is little Fastred with you?"

Fastred grinned.

"Hello, Nob. Mama let me go out and play today. Arnen saved me from a big man outside."

"Is that so?"

Nob looked at Arnen. She shook her head. The hobbit decided not to press and took her order then went off to the kitchen.

Arnen noticed Fastred did not seem to mind the noise of the inn. She assumed he came here often by the familiar way he treated Mr. Butterbur's hobbit servant. Before she could wonder anymore the little boy began his stream of questions again. Many of his questions made her laugh and some puzzled her. She told him about Elrond, his children, Glorfindel, and of the many elves that she knew and loved.

The female traveler was relieved when the food came. Fastred's questions slowed some as he shoveled forkfuls into his mouth between words. In minutes, though, he was done, and he began to ask questions again. Just when Arnen thought he would never stop three people approached the table. She looked up to see Halbarad, Elladan, and Elrohir. Fastred stopped asking questions and his innocent orbs widened.

"We left you for fifteen minutes - fifteen minutes, Arnen - and you manage to end up in a fight. And now we see you have also made a little friend." Elladan sighed.

The three rangers pulled up seats, and joined Arnen and her "little friend". Fastred still watched them in wide eyed fascination. Elrohir looked at the child sitting to his left and winked. The boy jumped out of his chair and ran to Arnen's side. Arnen laughed at his sudden shyness. Prying his fingers from her arm she introduced him to her companions.

"You all, this is Fastred, son of Malon. He is five."

Halbarad was the first to introduce himself. "I am Halbarad, Ranger of the North"

"I am Elladan."

"I am Elrohir."

If it was at all possible, Fastred's eyes became wider when the twins introduced themselves. His jaw dropped as he stared in awe. The brothers' eyes sparkled while they watched the little one's reaction. Many often thought they were just men, but they figured Arnen must have told him who they really were by the look on the boy's face.

Fastred overcame his fascination after a few minutes then on came more questions.

"How old are you? How long have you lived in Rivendell? Can you really talk to trees? What do trees say? How fast can you run? How many battles have you fought? Have you seen the Undying Lands Arnen told me about before? Will you really live forever? Who is Elderith?"

Elladan, Elrohir, Halbarad, and Arnen laughed merrily when the last question came. Arnen wiped the tears from her eyes while Elrohir explained.

"Her name is Elbereth, Fastred. She is the one who made the stars."

Fastred moved away from Arnen and sat in his chair again. Elrohir and Elladan explained things to the child and answered as many questions as they could. In about two hours, the boy's mother walked into the inn. The time for departure seemed all too soon for Fastred. He said a quiet goodbye to the elves and ranger. Arnen walked out to the street with his mother, Salmey was her name. Her hair was the same sandy blonde as Fastred's even though hers was straight.

"I would like to thank you for helping my son today. I'm sorry if he was a bother."

"Oh no, miss, he was not a problem at all. I hope you have a goodnight and that he grows to be a fine young man."

"Thank you for it, Arnen."

Fastred smiled and hugged her legs tightly in parting. The young woman returned to her companions, dropped her head on the wooden table, and groaned. Her three friends laughed.

"Well," Halbarad said, "do you hurt anywhere?"

"My jaw and my brain," she grumbled light heartedly.

"That will teach you not to get involved in anything like that again," Elladan's voice held warning. Arnen ignored it.

"Oh shut it, Elladan. You would have done the same thing, and I will do it again if the situation should arise."

The eldest of the twins was going to say something else, but Halbarad beat him to it.

"Just be careful."

Arnen lifted her head to smile at him. He was not half bad when he was not making her angry on purpose. Halbarad smiled back.

"Besides, you are only a woman and-"

"ONLY a woman!"

The offending ranger doubled over in laughter as Elrohir held Arnen away from his neck.

The streets outside became quiet, and Night slipped his darkness over the village. Vendors were all packed up; many had already moved on. The dust settled down and a cool breeze rustled the leaves. Families lay on their cots or in their beds sleeping. Children snuggled close to their mothers', some holding a new toy bought at the market. All except one child. His brown orbs looked at the stars as he thought of elves, battles, and a beautiful spirit called both Elbereth and Varda that made the many pinpoints of light.