For reference purposes, I have to backtrack and say this story started in around the year 2509 of the Third Age. When Laina and Aragorn return to Mirkwood, the year is 3009 of the Third Age, which is the year of this chapter as well ( if you've been paying attention ;-) ). Now, onward.
Twelve days later, Malian was still refusing to talk to me. Féoras had healed just fine and was released from the hospital wing and allowed to patrol once more, and I was now attending archery practice nearly every day. On this day, I was watching intently as Legolas knocked a bow in his arrow and shot at a target fifty yards away. The arrow zoomed so fast I almost could not see it, and it hit the target slightly off-center. I whistled, impressed.
"That's the closest I have ever seen you get," I called to Legolas. I received a proud grin from him and turned my attention to Aragorn, who had taken to attending as well, but not solely to watch. He knocked an arrow in his bow too, not nearly as gracefully as Legolas had done, and shot his at the target. I saw the arrow fly cleanly in the right direction and hit the target on its right side, causing it to wobble. "Nice shot, Aragorn," I said in his direction. He clearly did not agree with my call of encouragement because he threw his bow disgustedly on the ground and walked over to where I sat against a tree.
"Damn this archery, I'm much better with a knife or sword," he grumbled, sitting down unhappily beside me. I giggled.
"All of us cannot be as handy with a bow and arrow as our handsome little Elf over there," I said, indicating Legolas, who had just let another arrow fly only slightly closer to the center of the target. I heard him swear loudly under his breath before picking up another arrow quickly and aiming.
"I'd like to see you try," Aragorn countered, shrugging off the nearly dead-center arrow Legolas had just sent flying. I raised one eyebrow at him. "You couldn't even hit the target," he teased. I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Is that a challenge?"
"Sure," Aragorn replied, a smile playing on his lips.
"Fine," I said, standing and walking over to Aragorn's pile of arrows. I could feel his amused eyes on me as I picked up his bow, grabbing the handle steadily and knocking an arrow. I pulled the string back tentatively and closed one eye, aiming as best I could at the target. If I had realized that nearly every Elf (and Man) on the archery range was now staring unabashedly at me, I probably would not have let the string go, but as it were, I was concentrating very hard and was unaware of the intrigued stares I was receiving. Legolas had even stopped shooting off arrows and was now standing, dumbfounded, his bow at his side, watching me. As soon as the target came into what I believed was the path of my arrow, I released the string. I watched as the arrow soared toward the target. It came close to it, but did not hit the target and instead flew right past it. I did not see the shake of Aragorn's head and instead, determined, picked up another arrow and knocked it more quickly into the bow. I aimed and shot, watching the arrow fly unwaveringly toward the target. This time I heard a distinct thud and saw, to my surprise (and to everyone else's), my arrow quavering, its head stuck in the target, closer to the center than Aragorn's had been. I stood speechless for a moment, watching the arrow until it stopped shaking, and finally turned to see all focused on me.
Aragorn's eyes were wide and disbelieving. Legolas' eyes were of a similar vein, and his mouth was hanging open ever-so-slightly. Even Malian had been watching, and he was now smiling outright at my arrow that was stuck resolutely in the target. Legolas dropped his bow and grinned, running over to me and picking me up, twirling me around. I ignored the rather disapproving glare Malian threw and instead laughed out loud when Legolas put me back on my feet.
"You're a natural!" he exclaimed, thumping me on the nose. I raised a warning finger in his direction before laughing and turning toward Aragorn. He shook his head in disbelief before standing and walking over to me.
"Who taught you archery behind my back?" Aragorn teased. I shrugged, rather proud of myself. I saw Legolas nod his head in Aragorn's direction, almost a bow, and Aragorn returned the favor. I guessed that since the last all-out fight, they realized they had more in common than previously imagined. Even Malian came up and tried his damnedest not to glower in Aragorn's direction.
"Good shot," he mumbled, mussing my hair a bit. "Sorry about everything."
"I have already forgotten," I replied with a smile, reaching up to fix my hair before throwing my arms around Malian's neck. "Stop this angry nonsense, okay? You know I love you," I said into his shirt. I could feel his smile broaden to a beam as I hugged him.
"I saw you shooting Malian. You should try to aim from your strong side. You will hit the target more evenly that way," Legolas suggested, a bit stiffly. I knew that if my arms were not still around Malian's neck he would have retorted angrily, but as it were, he merely shrugged.
"Thanks, I'll try that," he replied. I let go of his neck to allow Legolas and Malian to shake hands.
"That's right, don't let an Elf woman come between friends," Aragorn chortled. I was quick to notice Malian narrow his eyes briefly before returning to his normal, smiling self.
"Never," Malian agreed, clasping Legolas' shoulder and pulling him into a hug. It was adorable, really, and I beamed at my three favorite males in Middle-earth as they all smiled at one another.
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"You're holding it a bit stiffly," Aragorn was saying as I held a sword out in front of me. Ever since my lucky arrow-shooting, Aragorn, Legolas, and Malian had taken to teaching me to fight. The training was rather demanding but also useful, seeing as more and more patrols reported Orc sightings near Mirkwood's borders. I sighed, exasperated, and tried to loosen my grip a bit. The sword wobbled unsteadily in my hand, and soon became so heavy that it slipped from my grip and fell with a clang to the wooden floor.
"I just don't think I will prove any better at fighting with a sword," I grumbled as Aragorn picked it up and handed it back to me. He rolled his silver eyes as I grabbed the hilt ineptly and tightened my fingers around it. The sword felt uncomfortable in my hand, and as soon as Aragorn straightened my arm I let it fall to my side, dropping the sword once again.
"You could try," Aragorn suggested, sighing unhappily.
"I'm sorry Aragorn, but I think I am much better equipped to fight with a bow and arrow or knife," I admitted, knowing Aragorn was a bit hurt that the one weapon he enjoyed so much was impossible for me to learn.
"You have gotten great at archery," Aragorn confessed, picking up his sword and swinging it around a bit, causing a slight, ringing whoosh to fill the air. I half-smiled at him, impressed. "I think I'll stick with this."
"Good idea," I agreed, loosening my strawberry blonde hair from the tie I had around it. Aragorn stared for a moment before I raised one sarcastic eyebrow at him. "My arms are just too sore to swing that thing around," I sighed. "Legolas has me training with a bow twice a day, and Malian insists I put in a bit of time with a small knife at least three times a week," I said aloud, calculating. "I'm not sure how much of this I can take."
"Within no time you will be joining the guard," Aragorn mused, thrusting the sword into its sheath. I smiled proudly.
"You think so?"
"If they let any lady patrol, it will be you," he answered. I wanted to thump him on the nose for terming me a 'lady,' but I guessed the word applied for lack of any other, so I let it slide. This time. I slumped against the wall, supporting my tired body, and looked at Aragorn, who seemed deep in thought.
"Thinking about Arwen?" I asked. Aragorn's silver eyes turned to me and he shrugged, a rather sheepish smile upon his dirty face. "When do you plan to return?"
"Whenever you're ready," he answered eagerly, but he obviously had not caught the suggestion I was hoping to imply.
"I will never be ready," I replied, looking down at my feet. I had thought about the consequences of staying for days, and had only just recently come to a conclusion. Aragorn cocked his head at me in question. "I'm not going back, not now at least." Aragorn's eyes widened and he hurried over to me, wrapping both arms around my back.
"You intend to stay while I go?" he wondered aloud. I nodded. "Just what will a lone Ranger do without an Elven maiden to guide him?" I could hear the slight sarcasm in his voice and I thumped his nose.
"Honestly, as if Arwen won't be there," I said, rolling my eyes. Aragorn smiled mischievously.
"Who will I play with?" he asked tentatively
"You'll manage," I smiled, leaning forward to kiss his cheek softly. He let his hand quickly reach for the spot my lips had been, and his eyes clouded momentarily before becoming again clear and warm. A small smile spread across his face and he pulled me against him gently, leaning in and placing his lips to mine, kissing me tenderly. I did not struggle, because we both understood the meaning of it, having known each other since Aragorn could crawl. Of course (because things tend to happen like this), the door to the room in which we had been practicing was opened and in strode none other than the Prince of Mirkwood, or, as I prefer to call him at his most presumptuous, the Prince of Audacity.
The moment between Aragorn and I had been effectively ruined, and we broke apart unwillingly to attempt to explain to the intruder exactly why an Elf and a to-be-bound Man were interlocked as we were; but Legolas, being the Prince of Impudence as he was, took one look at us, furrowed his brow slightly, and hurried out, no doubt to run to tell all of Middle-earth what he had just seen. Aragorn and I watched after him for a moment before making simultaneous mental notes to cut off Legolas' ears later, and we turned back to one another, smiling impishly.
"That damned Prince," Aragorn muttered, a grin still playing on his lips. I grinned back.
"He always knows when best to make a fool of himself," I agreed, but we both forgot it as we looked into one another's eyes again.
"I'll miss you," Aragorn whispered, studying my face with his silver eyes.
"When will I see you again?" I asked almost childishly, pouting a little and looking down at our feet. Aragorn put one finger under my chin and lifted my head, examining my eyes with his.
"I promise we will see each other soon," he answered, sincerity in his voice. I nodded, trying my hardest not to cry. I had been with this Man's mother when he was being born, and he had been the most gorgeous baby. Since then, I had never left his side and I had not intended to, but the pull of Mirkwood was so strong in me at the moment I did not have the peace of mind to return to Imladris just yet.
"When do you leave, then?" I asked, looking down once more.
"In a few days' time, I suppose," Aragorn answered, and I could not help hearing the slight relief in his voice. He must miss Arwen terribly. I nodded and Aragorn tilted my head up once more, planting another kiss on my lips before letting me go and, looking at me meaningfully, exited the room. We were both dreading the moment we would have to say farewell.