DISCLAIMER: I do not own Lord of the Rings, or any of the characters within Lord of the Rings. They are all the work of the amazing Professor J.R.R. Tolkien!!!! (Heh, and we can't forget Peter Jackson and Newline Cinemas...) I'm not earning anything from this, except maybe amusement. Reviews are always appreciated and criticism is welcome as well. Onward to the story then....

Chirping birds and scurrying animals filled the lush green of the Druadan wood. The company of Man, Elf, Dwarf and Druedain walked almost luxuriously through the trees, Bahârrod leading the way and his two men positioned one nigh the middle of the Three Strangers, and one a few steps behind Legolas' heels, for the Elf was walking in the back. Their progress was not particularly fast, for the path they took was certainly not well traveled, and was more than overgrown. This gave the horses, being larger creatures, trouble, and so the company found themselves spending time maneuvering between trunk and sapling. In the distance the dim beats of a drum resounded; the Wild Men were sending word of these strangers to their realm.

Legolas, who had been considerably less content with Middle-earth upon hearing the white Gulls and glimpsing the allure of the sea, seemed quite enamored of the forest. His bright eyes glowed with mirth and danced in the beams of sunlight that punctuated the foliage. His footsteps were as light as ever, and left no trace of his presence in the earthen floor, save perchance the trees sang a sweeter song. He seemed never to lend his vision anywhere but to growing things. A spring that had been lost, or rather dampened, was back in his step.

Gimli trotted along in the middle, staring suspiciously about for he knew the tall Elf who strode hindmost him could work some magic, or though it seemed to him, with the trees. He held his axe readily, albeit cautiously. The Dwarf knew also that the Elves had awoken voices in the forests, and given its main inhabitants, the trees, speech. But he understood none of it and hoped also that the Elves had given them naught else. Naught else, that is, that might be used to crack the helm of a more than suspecting Dwarf. His gaze constantly flicked to Legolas, warning the Elf should he conspire with the wood. He aspired to express such a glower that would successfully send across his intended wrath. Legolas would smile warmly, yet give no hint as to the intentions of his conversation. And to this, Gimli would grunt gruffly and turn the other cheek, as though he cared not. Although it was obvious, he was somewhat distraught and more than a little nettled.

The Druedain guarding them were both slightly puzzled by this display of good-hearted rivalry, more so when Gimli's axe came to rest far too close to the brown trunk of a tree. Barely audible creeks and groans filled the air. The gnarly boughs overhead seemed almost to tense and reach with rough, stretching hands for the object of their discomfort. The air grew strained and the horses stamped their hooves. Gimli imagined the boughs as long arms, their palms balling into taut fists. It gave all a start, the Druedain included, for they had never seen seemingly inanimate objects move, and the woods, which they were so accustomed to, had never acted in such a way before. Legolas' lips turned suddenly upwards whilst he appeared to whisper to the disquieted woods. Gimli could only envisage what mockery the Elf was spouting of him to his audience, though the Dwarf was grateful to be yet intact. But with Legolas' soothing words, the angry rustling of leaves ceased and all was as it had been before.

Aragorn, though he was not as awed by the surroundings, was still scanning the area with interest. Yet his mind was contemplating, while his eyes watched. He knew already that the Druedain were gifted with stone crafts yet were also considered primitive by many who were ignorant to their ways. And perhaps they were primitive, when judged by the standards of other folk, but in many of their own ways they were wise. Their knowledge of herb lore was vast, and it was rumored even that, if taken from their surroundings, they could adjust quicker than any other being and tell a poisonous plant from an edible one at a glance. They also appeared to harbor no malice toward the Rohirrim, but were ever wary of strangers and preferred to deal only with their own. The Druedain, as Legolas had said, were Elf-friends, or had been in ages of old. Aragorn wondered if this allegiance still held, though the Elves, from his many years with them, had spoke naught of them. Legolas, even being of the Woodland Realm, seemed to know little more than he had spoken. And Aragorn knew no more than his friend, if any. Scant facts from times long past offered little knowledge of the peoples themselves.

There were many things in Arda that were yet mysteries to him, the Druedain one among them, and though it was an impossible task, this he knew, he still longed to unravel them before old age took him. Perhaps this excursion would aid him in this search for cognition. Maybe it could opt color to his so far monochrome kingship in the endless pale of Minas Tirith.

And this would be more than welcome. He loved his people greatly, but a life of black and white is not enjoyed by one who favors color, particularly former rangers. In many ways, King Elessar envied Legolas and Gimli, though he knew their lives were not without strain and responsibility. They were both able to do mostly as they pleased, or so it seemed. Both acted far more carefree, but perhaps they wore masks for the benefit of those around them? Who could say? Yet the more he thought, the more the masks began to reveal.

Mirkwood, though certainly healing, was still a perilous place. It harbored Dol Guldor, and behind its ominous stone, darkness both waxed and waned. Leaderless, much of its presence was fading, but not all. The fabled and feared spiders were ever being warded off, though the foul creatures' territory grew smaller with each passing year. To walk beneath Mirkwood's boughs unarmed was yet a very foolish thing, and those who did such rarely emerged alive, or at least unscathed. The realm of the Wood Elves was fair indeed, but their numbers were not so great that they could cover the entire expanse of the forest, and so only a portion of the wood was truly safe. And the Mirkwood prince as well as some of his kin had traveled to Ithilien, to lend their aid in its healing as well. The King wondered of King Thranduil's views on these actions. And Gimli's days, also, were not spent idly. His folk toiled away in the Glittering Caves. But Aragorn did know that the walls of Minas Tirith now retained him, and it was a duty that he could not turn away from. The former Ranger's servitude was due onto Gondor.

The company's attention was brought to the direction in which they traveled. Ahead could be heard, though muffled because of the expanse of trees between them, the sounds of a village. It was not incredibly loud, as one would expect after visiting many of Middle-earth's great cities, but rather blended with the symphony one would anticipate of nature. There was no constant rhythm of boots on stone, no cacophony of voices punctuating the air and there were certainly no lords or ladies in garish attire. In fact, as they approached, it appeared that the village was hidden amongst the sprawling roots and brush much as was wont of the elves, though it lacked the fluid grace that was present in most things of Elven craft. Indeed, the closer one peered, the more the subtle similarities, as well as more obvious differences, began to creep into visibility.

The trees began to thin and open into a clearing, where the village was situated. Trees were besprent here and there and the forest was very much incorporated in and around their homes. Crude houses had been built of wood, though it was clear that no trees had been felled for this purpose, with straw and mud roofs nestled along an outcrop of a cliff. If one were to look upwards to follow the rise of the cliff, they would lock eyes with an almost lifelike stone carving of a sentinel, or so it seemed. Aragorn was forced to examine the ashlar lookout twice, for upon his first glance he could have sworn its stone eyes flicked about as if scanning the area and everything within it. The King of Gondor did not doubt that more guards of this sort were positioned elsewhere in the Druadan, and most definitely around its borders. Their purpose was likely to ward off any who would otherwise stray into the trees, and they certainly served their purpose well. Not only did they look uncannily lifelike, but they seemed almost to feel lifelike as well. An aura seemed to surround them that perceived the very essence of the people it was meant to represent. These people certainly did have skill with stone.

As they emerged and came into sight of the inhabitants of this village, the air immediately tensed. All heads turned to the direction of the strangers, and a disquieted hush commenced. Legolas seemed to be attempting to look everywhere at once, and to Gimli's surprise, appeared to be managing this quite well. The Dwarf was eying the Druedain with a curiosity that was uncharacteristic of him. The few Druedain that were walking about outside their homes wore little more than a grass skirt for garb, though the women wore strips of cloth across their chests in addition to this, while the children appeared to go without vesture. They looked almost Dwarf-like, but had no beards. No beards! He thought, that is simply preposterous! And with that he began to unconsciously stroke his own.

Legolas, who strode behind his stout companion with bright and inquiring orbs, was fascinated by these new peoples, for they were entirely alien to him, particularly after living such a sheltered life as Mirkwood offered. But his thoughts were first and foremost focused on the fear that the same mistake made by Bahârrod would be made again, and he prayed to the Valar that he would be spared such embarrassment. The entire incident, though he tried desperately to mask any embarrassment, had certainly chagrined him, however complementing the inquiry could be considered. And to make matters worse, Gimli would flash a taunting grin across his face as if to remind the Elf that he had not, and would not, forget the incident and was waiting, like a cat ready to pounce upon a mouse, for the perfect time to bring it to conversation once more. Legolas knew he would have to choose his words extremely carefully if he wished to avoid such an exchange of words.

Bahârrod, sensing the unease that had descended upon his kin, spoke words in his own language in explanation. The language was, indeed, entirely different from anything any of the three strangers had heard before and even Aragorn and Legolas could scarcely grasp the conversation aside from whatever hints tone of voice and body gestures would offer. Gimli was entirely at a loss. Communicating with anyone besides the chieftain and Bahârrod would pose a problem, but the three had faced worse situations than ignorance before. When Bahârrod returned, whispers that would have gone unnoticed by the untrained ear ignited and spread like a blazing fire from mouth to ear. Suspicious looks were shed here and there and the Druedain quickly changed their courses if the strangers came to walk too near where they were.

None could blame them. It was necessary to be suspicious in order to protect themselves, and neither man, Elf, nor Dwarf took any of this distrust as insulting. Legolas also watched their reactions to the horses. He was sure that many had seen them before, or at least heard some rumor of them, no doubt because of encounters with the Rohirrim, though the Elf was unsure of whether or not such meetings had been welcomed or wanted.

"What are your thoughts, my friend? Are you doubting your desire to pass through these trees?" Asked Aragorn quietly, pulling back so as to be closer to Legolas.

"Most certainly not. These people are wise, no matter what rumor has said of them and I would learn more of them, though I hope our presence does not arose too much discomfort. But did you see the stone carvings?"

"Aye, they remind me much of the Púkel-men on the road from Edoras to Dunharrow."

"Indeed... I do not doubt that the constructor of those statues and these are one and the same. But they also bring to mind a more menacing reference. Do you not remember the Two Watchers in the Tower of Cirith Ungol? Samwise spoke of them before... he said they seemed almost to glare and gave warning against any intruders. He was only able to pass them with aid from the Phial of Galadriel. The statues of the Druedain, though they are not evil, and also, from what I know, do not sound alarms, have a similar aura about them. I wonder if perchance Sauron imitated their skill for his own benefit? I know the Druedain would not have aided him purposely, for though they did not openly oppose him, they did hate as well as fear him."

"That is certainly troubling. Sharp are the eyes of these people, but that would mean that those allied with Sauron were able to spy upon their doings and study their craft unnoticed. "

"Do you think it possible that Orcs mightn't have been stationed somewhere nearby?" Asked Legolas curiously.

"It would be an ideal place to hide. This area, from what I've seen of it, has the necessary rock formations for caves. The cliffs are testaments enough to that," interrupted Gimli, feeling somewhat left out of the conversation and lacking anything better to do than enter it.

"Legolas, trouble seems almost drawn to you so let us hope that there are none that chose to linger," said Aragorn jokingly, though it was true enough. The two had faced more upset on any journeys taken together than leisure, and scarcely returned unscathed.

"Trouble is most often drawn to me when I am with you," replied Legolas with a grin.

"Hmph, I'd say trouble is drawn equally to the both of you, and that's that, elleth," added Gimli in a matter-of-factly tone of voice and a hint of a smirk.

"Where did you learn that word?" Questioned Legolas, his brow knitting together in a look of both annoyance and embarrassment. The tips of his pointed ears blushed a barely noticeable pink, though his eyes flashed as they latched onto the Dwarf.

"Why is it so hard to believe that a Dwarf is capable of picking up a few words of Sindarin? You speak it all the time, obviously unawares that I am listening. But, I learned it from Aragorn. Oh yes, and I have one more thing to say: Dilui lhaw edhel ernilkil."

Legolas flung both Dwarf and man a deathly glare and restrained himself from a harsh reply. With a sigh, an attempt to dissipate the slight he had just received, he forced a smile. Arod nudged the Elf in the shoulder as if attempting to lift his spirits. Legolas, happy to have at least one friend not partaking in mockery, gave an honest laugh and stroked Arod's soft white muzzle. "Well, then, Gimli, son of Glóin, I have something to say as well: Thent tarlenc nogotheg."

"Hmph." But before the Dwarf could mutter a response, Bahârrod announced that they had reached the hut of the Chieftain, Ghân-buri-Ghân. He bade them wait while he requested the Chieftain's attention and strode up to the entrance to the hut and poked his head in. Moments later, the cloth draped across the doorframe was drawn back and a stout Druedain stepped into the now fading sunlight. He looked very much like his kin, though his chin was stubbled with a moss-like beard dissimilar the others. His deep-set eyes scanned those before him, his wide face blank and emotionless. And then, a grin spread from cheek to cheek and a gurgling sound erupted from his throat. It was as if he was laughing. As it was said of the Woses, they had an uncanny ability to spread their laughter, even in the most dyer of situations. This rumor held true, for Aragorn soon found that the corners of his lips began to twinge upwards, as did Gimli. Legolas' bright eyes twinkled in the glowing colors of the sunset, and for a time, the unease about the village vanished.

"Gondor King, what be your business with my folk?" He said with time, his speech halted and uncouth, but the Common tongue all the same.

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Translations:

Elleth. = Elf-maiden.

Thent tarlenc nogotheg. = Short stiff-necked Dwarflet.

Dilui lhaw edhel ernkil. = Pointy eared Elf princeling.

Ahem....I'm back!! And I'm praying to the Valar that you're still with me. I'm sooo sorry for the extended wait, but I'm back from camp and have finally gotten re-situated and readjusted to my normal schedule. Camp was quite possibly the most fun I've had since Disney Land when I was eight. Lol. Camp Mori no Ike is one of the few places where watching a man get dunked into a full garbage can is considered a typical daily event. I've also been using every spare second of both day and night to finish drawing the Manga (Japanese comic) that I'm currently working on. My goal is to get it published through Tokyopop in the upcoming Rising Stars of Manga Contest (though I don't know if I can compete with all the wonderful artists!), I have an ever encroaching deadline. But anyways, I'm back.... and updates will NOT be punctuated by such a LONG wait again, I assure you. I'll be getting to my other fanfic straightaway. Again, thank you sooo much for all the reviews. They are all GREATLY appreciated. And to any silent readers, thank you as well! I hope everyone is enjoying.

AilciA: Blushes... Thank you so much.... blush.

Bookworm,. 303: I wanted to make sure I got all the facts straight... and I'm still sweating over my lack of detailed information about the Druedain....in many ways, I feel like Aragorn. Sigh. I know their history and what not, but that offers little knowledge of the peoples themselves. Well, it'll be good for me, I suppose. I'll have to use my own imagination (and Tolkien's guidelines) to construct the missing pieces of the puzzle. Sigh. I dug around in the Unfinished Tales as well as the many dark depths of the internet. Tolkien's attention to every detail is truly amazing. Who would have thought that he'd take such a minor (though still important) race and take the time to go into even further detail about them? And camp was simply wonderful... I could have stayed there forever if only they had a computer and a library...ahem....with books in English and not just Japanese.

Gismo: Lol. I enjoyed writing it...and I'm extremely happy that you liked it. I'm also really relieved that you liked the extra info. I didn't know whether or not people would want it there. I miss my camp already, but it's nice to be back home. I've missed fanfiction (both reading and writing) dearly. I scarcely had a chance to get out a pen and paper to write down my ideas before I was rushed off to do something or other at camp. Thank you!

Sun Kissed Rose: Lol. Thank you.

Orliey: Thank you. Lol. I've been itching to write something about his androgynous features, and I'm really happy you liked it. Psychology research? Wow....I hope I didn't distract you from your studies too much .

Saiyuki123: Thank you.

Well, that's that. At long last, another chapter. And now....I'm off to bed.....I haven't slept in two days now. If I were to stay up for approximately twenty-seven more hours I could be considered legally insane...now that's an interesting thought. Oooh.....but before I go, I MUST mention something! Whilst at camp, I was sitting and quietly eating my breakfast...the entire table seemed to be particularly quiet as well, and avoiding conversation that early in the morning suited me fine... (especially when that conversation would consist of aught but Japanese)...BUT when I looked up....I discovered that the boy sitting directly across from me bore an uncanny resemblance to none other than Orlando Bloom. He even wore sunglasses. Now, I'm not one to become obsessed with an actor, but I wasn't the only one who noticed his striking resemblance...for by noon that day... his new nickname had become Orli. That, along with Haruki-Sensei's inhuman ability to consume large quantities of Shrimp (Ebi) in one sitting and Wanito-Sensei and Shin-Sensei rolling around on a couple of mats inside the Tokyo-Dome fighting to the death with invisible Light Sabers (Alas, that my camera was in my backpack! Though I did manage to snag a picture of Wanito- Sensei in Pink PJ's for 'Pinku no Hi' (Pink Day)) simply made my day. Till next time! And perhaps I'll think of more camp stories to tell?

- Jamie (Lintu...)