Chapter 7

Five days out of Rivendell the Fellowship seemed to be settling into a routine. They woke, ate quickly and sparingly, broke camp and walked. In the evenings, Boromir, with Aragorn's help, taught Merry and Pippin the proper use of a sword. Sam attended to the domestic chores assisted, to his surprise, by Legolas. Sam found that the elf enjoyed cooking and was grateful for the company. It also kept the elf a comfortable distance from Gimli. Gimli was content to smoke a comfortable pipe with Gandalf and discuss directions and paths. Frodo seemed to be keeping to himself more often than not.

Sam was worried about his master. The usually cheerful hobbit appeared to be preoccupied. He spoke little and rarely joined in the tale telling or quiet singing of the others. He walked almost mechanically, a far away look in his brilliant blue eyes. Sam watched him quietly, attentive to Frodo's every need.

Legolas watched his hobbit friend with affection. Sam anticipated what Frodo would require, often had it to hand before his master spoke a word. His loyalty to Frodo was total. Even when Frodo, vexed by the attention, shooed him away, Sam lingered near, ever willing to help.

As they prepared to make camp for the night, Legolas looked at Aragorn. His attempts to speak to the Ranger about Arwen has not been successful. Aragorn quickly cut him off, changing the subject to the best routes to take or the needs of the Fellowship. He was willing to discuss the training of Merry and Pippin, the placement of the camp or the weather of the coming day. But on the subject of Arwen he was mute. Legolas tried to hide his frustration, worried that this one subject might become a wedge in their friendship. But Arwen's life, weighed against Aragorn's pride, was most important. Sighing, he mentally prepared himself to be rebuffed once again when Sam's voice broke into his thoughts.

"I'd like to make a stew with fresh meat," he said to the elf. "Would it be too much to ask you to hunt down some coneys? I think, once we leave the forests, there may not be much chance for game."

Legolas smiled at that and stood, eager to do a little hunting, grateful for the distraction. However, Gimli had overheard Sam.

"Rabbits, is it?" he asked, approaching them. "I can have you a brace in a few moments, Sam. Rest yourself, Master Elf."

Legolas' eyes blazed at Gimli. It was the dwarf's assumption that he could do everything better than anyone else that irritated him more than anything. "You are telling me to rest? You require it more than I do."

Gimli's eyebrows shot into his hairline. The elf was too aloof, to proud to associate with the company, he felt. Speaking very little, always looking superior. "I need no rest, elf! Dwarves are renowned for their endurance!" He winked at Sam. "Very sturdy, I assure you."

Aragorn noticed the commotion, Sam caught in the middle of what seemed to be yet another argument between dwarf and elf. He came over to them.

"What is it?" he asked Sam.

"I just wanted a few rabbits, Strider." Sam said simply. He motioned to the heated debate now raging in front of him. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Aragorn sighed. Looking around quickly he saw that Gandalf was leaning against a tree, apparently asleep, although the pipe in his hand still smoked.

Stepping between the fighting pair, he held up his hands. "Fine!" he snapped. "Legolas, you go that way." He pointed in one direction. "Gimli, you go over there." He pointed the opposite way. Shaking his head at them, he watched them glare at each other and leave in the directions he had indicated.

Legolas fumed all the way into the brush. He thought up a hundred new insults for the dwarf before he calmed down enough to start to look for game. It was ridiculous to allow himself to get so angry. Now he realized it was the rock cutter's habit of treating him as if he were the same age as the young hobbits that infuriated him. Shaking his head, he returned to the business of hunting. With his silent elf gait, he quickly covered the ground, listening for the sounds that would tell him where his quarry waited. He waited, catlike, and soon his patience was rewarded. Fitting arrow to bowstring, he quickly brought down the first rabbit. Not moving, he waited again, and when the second creature came to investigate the fate of its companion, he had his second. Retrieving them quickly, he headed back to camp. He did not realize how deeply into the woods he had gone during his fit of pique.

When he emerged from the thickets into the camp, he was horrified to find the dwarf, sitting on a fallen log, smoking that infernal pipe, telling Sam the easiest way to butcher the animals that he was cleaning. And there were three rabbits in front of Sam!

Aragorn turned away that Legolas might not see him laugh. The look on the elf's face was one of complete astonishment. Merry and Pippin grinned at each other, and went back to the sword drills Boromir was demonstrating.

"Ah, young Legolas! Successful, were you?" Gimli asked agreeably. "Two coneys, that's impressive."

Legolas continued to gape at the dwarf. He realized that Frodo had the first genuine smile he'd had for days, and that Aragorn's shoulders were shaking with laughter.

"How," he started, then stopped. He looked at the rabbits again, and back to the smiling dwarf. "You can't hunt rabbit with an axe!" he exclaimed.

Gimli slowly took another draw at his pipe, and then exhaled. His eyes sparkled with laughter.

"You can if you throw them, lad," he said, patting the small axe at his belt. Legolas stared at him. "Nothing simpler." Gimli went on. "Flush them out and then whack 'em. I've been doing it since I was a child." Aragorn and Frodo could no longer contain their amusement and laughed out loud. Even Gandalf, awake now, joined in. Only Sam was able to check himself, and he looked sympathetically at Legolas, the barest hint of a smile on his broad face.

"You can bring down a rabbit at a run with an axe?" Legolas asked, startled into speech.

"Of course," Gimli said simply. "You can bring down one with an arrow, can you not?"

"But, I didn't think that was possible."

"Anything is possible, with practice," Gimli shrugged. Then he went back to smoking his pipe, his evident delight visible on his face.

Legolas dropped the rabbits still in his hand into the pile before Sam, and went to get the pots from the pony. "Dwarves," he muttered to himself, ignoring Aragorn completely.

Arwen was not eating or resting enough, and Athelas was worried. Her friend swung between a manic belief that Aragorn would return to her and a devastating conviction that he had meant every word he'd said. She had tried everything to cajole her friend back into some type of normalcy, but Arwen's behaviour continued to shift between happiness and the greatest sorrow. No amount of good-humoured chatter, sympathetic listening, or walks through the garden seemed to work.

She changed into her travel clothes again early one morning. Slipping her daggers into their sheathes, she strapped on her quiver and picked up her bow. Although she was no warrior, every elf could defend their own person. But today, defense was not on her mind.

Making her way to Arwen's rooms, she lightly tapped on the door. Arwen did not answer, and she tapped again. Sighing, she leaned forward and spoke firmly.

"Arwen? I know you're there. I will stay here and knock until you answer me. Arwen?" She tapped again.

Arwen opened the door slowly and looked at her friend. The dark circles around her eyes and her unkempt hair showed she'd spent another night crying. She leaned against the doorjamb and looked down at her friend with an apathetic face.

"Let me be," she said softly. "I'm just going to sleep today."

"No, you're not. You're going to stare out the window and feel sorry for yourself. I know you, Arwen."

Arwen sighed and opened the door enough to admit the other elf. Then she shut it firmly. With lethargic steps, she made her way back to her seat and stretched out on it. Pushing her tangled hair back from her face, she looked at Athelas.

"What do you want?" she asked, turning her head back to the window. The breeze rustled the leaves outside, a melancholy sound to her.

"I want you to come with me today. I need to visit a place, and I would rather not go alone."

Arwen looked at her friend with jaded eyes. "Formidable weaponry. Are we under attack? Are you running home?"

Athelas sighed and looked at her. "Right now, home is with you. I thought I might do a bit of hunting on the way back from my errand." She went to her friend and knelt down in front of her, taking her hands. Arwen stared at her for a moment, then pulled her hands away. Athelas took them again.

"This has to stop, Arwen. Two days ago you were beyond happiness, knowing that he would return. Today you are crushed. I cannot watch you suffer this way. Come with me today, get out of this house, feel the forest again. I beg you."

Arwen looked at the comrade of her childhood, a glimmer of interest in her light eyes. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"You will recognize it when you see it," Athelas told her cryptically.

Intrigued by this, Arwen allowed herself to be coaxed into getting dressed. Athelas braided up the ebony locks of her friend's hair, and together they slipped into the woods around the Last Homely House.

Arwen brightened a bit as she recognized the unseen path Athelas was leading her down. "I know where we're going now," she said, memories engulfing her.

"I thought you might," Athelas laughed back at her. Arwen's steps quickened and soon both elves were running through the trees, chasing each other in a game invented in childhood. When they reached the stream, Arwen giggled and rushed up into a huge tree. Athelas stood beneath it and stretched her arms to the sky. She looked to see Arwen in the top branches, swaying them, knocking the last of the dried leaves to the ground.

"Oh, no you don't!" Athelas called, unstrapping her quiver, placing it and her bow to the side and clambering up into what had been "her" tree as a child. "I can still go faster!"

They scampered in the branches like squirrels. Arwen leapt into her friend's tree and they played like the girls they had once been.

Finally dropping from the branches, Athelas scooped clear water from the stream into her hands and drank deeply. Arwen perched on a low branch and laughed at her.

"I can still outlast you!" she taunted. "Mirkwood has made you soft!"

"Can you now?" Athelas retorted, as she turned and splashed water up at Arwen. A few drops fell on the tips of Arwen's boots, and she jumped down and waded into the stream. The water flew in droplets while they continued to splash and giggle.

Finally both fell, laughing, into the brown and withered grass. They were sopping, with mud smearing boots, hands and hair. Arwen opened her brilliant blue eyes to the sun and gazed at the clouds. Her heart felt light again. She rolled over and looked at her friend, cupping her chin in her hands, elbows digging into the autumn mud.

"You were right, Athelas. We needed this." She looked about her again. "We haven't been here in years. Why did we stop coming?"

Athelas pulled herself up and sat cross legged in the weeds. She gazed into the distance for a few moments, then turned her black eyes to Arwen. She shrugged. "We grew up, I guess."

"When did it all get so complicated?" Arwen complained. "Only a few days ago I knew my path and was content. Now...," she broke off, picking at a blade of grass in front of her.

"Arwen, I love you," Athelas said simply. "All my life you have always been there for me. I am here for you now. And I must tell you, you have to make up your mind."

Arwen started at that and raised her face to her friend. "It's not that simple," she told her.

"Yes, it is," Athelas insisted. "All you have to do is choose. Will he return or won't he? And then stick to that."

"What if I choose wrong?" Arwen said, her gaze dropping back to the ground.

"Your heart will tell you. Now, are you going to believe that Aragorn meant what he said, or are you going to trust in his love?"

"When you say it like that, there is not much of a choice." Arwen protested.

"I'm making it easy for you." Athelas replied, with a wry grin.

"Then I choose to believe he will return." Arwen told her, hope returning to her eyes.

"Good! Now let me show you how soft we are in Mirkwood." Athelas jumped back on her feet and swung herself back up into the trees.

They returned to the House well after nightfall, Athelas shouldering the deer she had brought down. Elrond was waiting for them with anger written in every line of his face. Handing the deer over to be taken to the kitchens, Arwen and Athelas stood before him, damp, muddy, with bits of twigs and dried leaves stuck in their tousled hair and clothing. Their eyes were bright, and they looked at him steadily, willing to endure his displeasure for the sake of the fun they had had.

"Where have you been?" Elrond asked, his voice soft, his eyes snapping. "You left no word with anyone!"

"Father," Arwen began, "we went hunting. We are not children." Athelas fought back a grin. For adults, they had spent a fair bit of the day in play.

Elrond shook his head at her. "In these times, Arwen, it is dangerous . . . "

"We were armed, Father," she interrupted him, twisting her leg to show him the dagger in her boot. "And despite conditions in the world, Imladris is still safe."

His brows dropped, signalling his disapproval. To his consternation, both of the young elves began giggling.

"Please, forgive Arwen, Lord Elrond," Athelas said, forcing the words out, trying to calm her laughter. "I'm afraid it was entirely my fault."

"You always say that, Athelas, and it is always Arwen's doing." Elrond told her sternly. "As you point out, you are both grown, both Ladies of Elven realms..."

"But this time it really is her fault!" Arwen burst out, unable to hold in her mirth any longer.

"Really it is." Athelas joined her. Elrond regarded the pair before him with an unreadable look in his dark eyes. They continued to laugh, holding on to each other for support. He raised one eyebrow, and they began to laugh even harder.

"Your pardon, my lord." Athelas finally choked out, wiping her eyes. "I have behaved most inappropriately, and I fear I have caught Arwen up in my lapse. Please forgive us. My behaviour has reflected badly on both your upbringing and the dignity of the Mirkwood." Arwen stifled a loud guffaw. She looked at him with the same expression he remembered on the face of the young elleth she had been. He sighed.

"Go and clean yourselves up and be made presentable," he said, shaking his head. "And next time please leave word of your whereabouts."

He walked away from them, and heard fresh laughter. Knowing they could not see his face, he smiled broadly.

"Why did you have to say that about his eyebrows?" Arwen scolded Athelas as they made their way to their rooms. "I think we could have pulled it off if it wasn't for that."