A/N: I commend the authors who have enough creativity to do pre/post-war stories, they keep the site interesting and give me hope that maybe I can create a story line just as interesting.
So, the Fellowship was just about to start off right…
A False Start to a Good Start
No one spoke as they walked down the Road towards Bruinen. Elves stood beside the path and sat among tree branches sending silent farewells to the Fellowship. They looked stunning against the backdrop of ancient trees. Their faces were solemn, and it would break your heart to see some of the elflings' faces scrunched up with silent tears. Wise blue and grey eyes pierced each one of the companions' souls. The hobbits squirmed under the intense gazes, except Frodo whose mind was on other things at the moment.
Glorfindel was one who followed alongside the Fellowship as far as he could. Another figure followed on the other side of them, hidden amongst the trees, which Aragorn tried to ignore. Arnen continually slipped her eyes from the figure to him.
"Namaarie (Farewell)," a gentle whisper called from the elf in the shadows.
"Guren nallatha nalú le achenin (My heart shall weep until I see thee again)," Aragorn silently replied as he fingered Evenstar about his neck.
A wind from the west blew through the branches as the Fellowship left the road at the Ford of Bruinen and turned south. Leaving after only just returning home was hard for the woman companion.
'Do not ever look back, Arnen,' Halbarad had told her over and over as they traveled. 'There is no use in torturing yourself. Do not look back to the past; do not look back to your old home. The road may seem lonely and it is. But not paying attention will land you in danger. And we cannot have that, can we?'
"No we cannot," Arnen whispered to herself gently. Reluctantly she pulled her tearing eyes away from the beautiful Bruinen and set them on the road ahead.
"What was that, Arnen?" Aragorn asked, having heard her voice.
With a wry smile she simply shook her head and continued to walk.
Setting up camp was like heaven for Pippin and Merry. They still were not accustomed to traveling, so such a far distance covered in five days made them sore straight to the bone. Plopping down, the cousins sighed contentedly when Boromir sparked a fire and Aragorn started the meal. No one spoke and an uncomfortable silence settled as everyone waited for someone else to start talking.
Gandalf's eyes twinkled as he sat back, amused with the foolishness of the situation. A small laugh threatened to escape from his lips. When reaching into his pocket for a little pipe-weed out of the corner of his eye he saw Legolas approach a lone form sitting atop a broad, moss covered rock. His attention settled in that direction, feeling he may be needed
Legolas stood beside the rock waiting to be recognized. Tension rose in the air the longer he waited, but the prince would not back down. Patiently he watched the stubborn human battle a fiery temper down.
"Yes?" the woman sighed a little harshly.
The elf smiled. "May I join you?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Certainly."
Turning her grey-gold orbs on him she answered sharply, "Then no. I would rather be alone, Legolas." With that she turned her face to the fire. The other members had finally started talking with the Shire being their focus. Arnen was close enough to hear but far enough away that she didn't have to engage in the conversation – or for anyone to save her from the dialogue at hand, to her dismay. Sam beamed proudly as he told of his home's handsome foliage and his Gaffer's wisdom. Pippin was practically bubbling with excitement while trying to put in the history of how he was related to this hobbit and that hobbit. Merry's stories were of the Brandybuck household. Frodo even joined in with tales from Bilbo that none had heard before.
'Dammit, he is still standing there!' she thought, frustrated. He was situated majestically by the rock, his presence silently mocking her. Blonde locks were bound behind his neck and the royal weaving of his braids was simpler than what she remembered seeing that night in the garden.
"What do you want, elf?"
"To talk, human," he jested.
Arnen shot daggers with her eyes. All the prince did was smile gently. Jumping up she had to lift her head to look at his face.
"Listen, prince," she spat out his title like it was poison, surprising Legolas, "I would like my space, as I have already mentioned, and I would appreciate it if you would give me some."
"You are not helping the situation," he spoke calmly.
"And you are getting on my nerves."
"I apologize for ever offending you, which I did unintentionally."
His composure irked Arnen to no end. Pushing him out of the way she tried to go back to the group. But, Legolas was too quick. He turned her around by the arm and gripped her softly. She was just about to punch him when his other hand caught her fist and held it gently. Feeling a little trapped her irritation rose and a humming began in her chest.
"Let go!" she commanded softly so the others would not worry.
"Not until we talk."
"About what?"
Legolas was glad to have made some progress, even though he did not like the fact that he had to hold the woman still just so he could get through this. He wondered at the stubbornness of the human race.
"Ever since we left Rivendell you have avoided me. If we are going to be around each other until the Fellowship reaches Lothlórien I would like to know that you will not try to strangle me over a slip of the tongue. Now, I have apologized for offending you, unintentionally I might add, so it is your turn."
The whole time Legolas spoke Arnen struggled to stop the humming, but when she actually gave heed to his words the sound ceased on its own. Her mind was so preoccupied that she did not notice the silence for a few moments. When she saw him watching her, she realized he was waiting for a reply.
"Alright, apology accepted."
Legolas still held onto her. "What?" she asked.
"You do not have anything else to say?"
Arnen looked met his stormy-grey eyes with confusion. "No."
"Telcoer (stubborn one)," he sighed beneath his breath and let her go with a shake of his head.
Arnen decided to ignore his remark and headed toward Aragorn. Gandalf, though, beckoned to her. Sitting at his left she saw him reach inside his cloak and pull out a familiar vial. She groaned then stood to leave. The old wizard grabbed her by the back of her cloak and pulled her down again. His large hand pressed the vial into her palms giving her a meaningful look with his grey orbs. Arnen held his gaze with the same amount of decisiveness.
"Hên, I will not let a branch of this tree to fall on my head because you lose your temper."
"I am fine, Gandalf."
"The way that fire decided to burn a little brighter while you spoke with Legolas would suggest differently," he warned.
The woman laughed, trying to reassure the wizened wizard. "Everything is alright now. As you can see the fire is back to normal, the earth is in proper order and the tree has not assaulted you."
Gandalf closed her fingers around the pale blue, curing liquor. The crystal prism was fit neatly in her hand. "Keep it, just in case."
Giving him a little peck on the cheek, Arnen walked back to the fire and sat down beside Aragorn. Legolas, seated to her left, passed her a plate of food – which he prepared for her – with a wink. Thanking him, she settled beside her brother and followed the flow of the conversation. She did not notice that Aragorn was looking at her peculiarly.
The ranger was surprised at the sudden metamorphosis in the exchanges of his sister and Legolas. He watched as they fell into discussion about various histories of the Elves and Númenóreans. They had suddenly become comfortable with one another at some point in the two hours that had past since setting up camp. When Legolas rose to retrieve his bow, it being relevant to their debate concerning weaponry, Aragorn pulled Arnen into a hug.
"I guess this means that the argument by the rock resulted in your pardoning one ignorant of your high standards? How can the world live up to you, nethig?" he teased.
His knowing about the argument stunned her a bit because she thought his back was turned to them. Choosing not to ask him how he knew, she leaned into his hug and nodded her head. Receiving a kiss atop her head he let her go when the elf prince returned. The carrier of the bow sat across from Arnen.
"This is, obviously, a Mirkwood bow. See, the curve is less defined than the bows of Rivendell, but the wood is more malleable. So it is harder to break and easier to string."
Gently Arnen ran her digits across the finger impressions at the middle of the bow's arc. Legolas clearly loved it dearly. It was beautiful. Scrolling along the wood from the zenith of the weapon to the point where the bowman's index finger rests was inscribed: Le maethor veleg ah 'ornui - Le pengor vaen a vaecheneb - Garo nin - Avaro naeth - Si a thûr - Gurth enin goth (You are a mighty and brave warrior. You are a skilled and sharp-eyed archer. Hold onto me. Don't worry. Now to victory! Death to the enemy!). Passing her finger to the end of the bow she saw inscribed there its name, E-nbaudh (The Judgment).
She smirked at the engravings in the amber wood. They were enough to get someone's head mighty big with their own importance. Of course, she would reserve judgment for when she actually saw his skill. Arnen may have been terrible with the bow, but she knew how to gauge a bowman's strengths and weaknesses very well. She could even critique the person. But give her a bow and a target at the regulation competition distance and she would not be able to hit the bulls-eye to save her life.
"This bow was given to me by my father before I went into my first battle. I was young then, full of excitement, ready to prove myself as a warrior."
Arnen could not help but hear the almost nonexistent wry note in his tone. Looking up from the bow she saw that he was walking on the paths of yesterday – as Irima liked to call it – for his eyes were an even deeper grey and his pupils were dilated. She felt touched that he would share part of his past even when she still did not apologize for her coldness during the week.
'Maybe I will apologize.'
"I will honestly say that I was scared out of my mind when I saw those orcs and spiders coming through the trees. Training only did so much for me at that time. Instructors fight fair and try not to give you any fatal wounds, even when you are sparring. But in battle it was confusing; the enemy did not care about the ethics of battle. It was either kill anyway that you can or be killed in any way.
He laughed. "When the battle was done, though, and I saw that the stars were still there; when I saw we had victory, I knew that battle was not as terrible as it seemed. To gain peace there must be bloodshed at times, no?"
His pupils contracted and his eyes turned from the green of a forest to their original stormy hue. Seeing this, Arnen unbuckled her belt holding the scabbard and sword at her hip. Pulling Maebuian from its resting place she handed it to Legolas. The elf took it to examine the blade and hilt. Down the middle of the steel he saw the battle cry 'Gurth gothrim Tel' Mithrim' (Death to the foes of the Grey Company) was etched. Just above the hilt on one side was the sword's name, Maebuian (I serve well.), and on the other 'Im buiron nín' (I am your servant).
"This was given to me by Halbarad, captain of the Grey Company. I am sure you met him when you went out with the scouts. It was my 18th birthday and I was finally of the age that they actually take one in as a "member", if you would. He said, 'For a woman, your skills with the blade are exceptionally worth building upon. Besides, Magien, I have a feeling that you are going to join us in battle soon.' And, you know, he was right. That same day we engaged with a band of orcs getting too close to the Shire. This sword has served me well since day one. I could not have asked for a better weapon."
"So, it is true that you were a member of the Grey Company?" Legolas asked, slightly amused by the fact that the woman sitting before him was as capable as a ranger should be.
Arnen puffed up slightly, hearing the laughter in his tone, "I am still a member of the Grey Company."
The elf prince looked startled at the sudden change in Arnen. She sat wrapped in her misty cloak with eyes gleaming and the brooch on her shoulder sparkling. Yes, she did look like one of the Dúnedain, besides the fact that her features were feminine. Nonetheless, Legolas doubted her ability was efficient for the trials ahead.
Arnen saw the look in his eyes. It was the same one Halbarad had in his when she first went into battle – doubt. Setting her jaw, she gently took her sword from Legolas and returned it to the homely scabbard. Then, standing up abruptly she stalked to her bedroll beside Aragorn.
A pipe was set between Aragorn's lips, which curved slightly when he observed his younger sister's change of mood. His eyes silently inquired from Legolas's, but observing that his friend was just as in the dark as to the reason why Arnen's temper had flared again, he smoothed down her hair and wrapped his blanket around her. Golden cheeks raised at the gentle force of his sister's grateful smile.
The night was silent. Watch was set and the camp settled. None were aware of the friend that sat near them, an eleventh traveler. He knew of the abomination that they carried and how their woman companion was weaved in its story more intimately than any of the group, even Frodo and Aragorn.
I hope you enjoyed it.