Elwin – Eternal Love

Note: Hey guys! So, I'm very pleased at how people are responding towards Eternal – thank you all so much, especially those who reviewed! I love you all *hugs*

And to all those who mentioned a jealous Legolas… hehe, maybe not quite so much in this chapter, but I have things planned… just you wait and see! Mwahaha ;)

~Chapter 2~

My body was strung with tension as the snowy white horse squirmed and whinnied beneath my grip, and even more so when Éomer noticed me falter and placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. We had been travelling for some time, though I hadn't taken the liberty to count the hours exactly; all I knew was that I was very relieved when we stopped to camp. (We were getting closer to Isengard, but Gandalf was unsure of what might happen when we arrived there, and he wanted us all to be rested).

I didn't realise how much I was missing Eowyn's company until now – so far, both Éomer and Aragorn had managed to keep me distracted, and I also made sure we were never far away from Legolas, since it made me feel a bit better knowing he was just that much closer.

"Rohan is of great beauty, Éomer. You are lucky to live in such a magnificent place," I decided to tell Éomer, trying to strike up some conversation to get my mind away from missing Eowyn.

"I'm glad you think that – I was worried that after the battle you would not think it so pretty!" Éomer's voice was bright as his laugh rang out, but there was a hint of something hollow in his tone that I did not point out. "So, tell me of your home? I hear from Aragorn that you are from Mirkwood descent?"

I nodded, before stretching my hands out towards a fire that was burning in the middle of the camp – it had not taken us long to set everything up, and now we were all just relaxing, and talking away the wear of the day around the campfire.

"Yes, though I have not been there for years. The Elves of Firen Wood were all originally from Mirkwood, but we left when the forest fell into darkness – I'm sorry, I don't know too much about it." I swept up a stick from the floor and threw it into the flames, watching them the fiery tongues lick it as it crackled and burned. For a second, the campfire glowed brighter, before dwindling down again.

Aragorn and Théoden had already decided to lie down for the night, and Gandalf was also resting quietly against a tree, though I wasn't sure if he was asleep or not. Legolas had disappeared to somewhere, traipsing off to wherever he always went when he wished for some peace and quiet with only nature as his company, but Gimli (though occasionally closing his eyes and sucking contentedly on his pipe) I knew to be still awake.

"Why did you leave Firenzei?" I was startled when Éomer brought me crashing so suddenly back into the conversation, as we had fallen quiet for some time beforehand.

I shrugged, suddenly feeling a pang of homesickness to go along with the yearning I felt for my best friend's company. "I grew bored of it, I suppose. There is not much else to say, beside that."

Besides, I had had to leave – when Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli had arrived, Legolas had found out about me not being a full-blood Elf, and the Queen of our village was… shall we say, not too keen on humans. It wouldn't have been good for me to stay there for much longer, despite it being the only home I had ever known.

"You grow bored of places easily?"

Again, I wasn't quite sure how to reply. "Not exactly… I suppose I just don't like being confined to one place."

"And what about people?"

I was starting to grow uncomfortable, and it didn't help that Legolas had arrived back just at the moment, throwing us a look before settling cross-legged next to Gimli. I wanted to speak to him, but I didn't want to leave Éomer, and I doubted there would be much of anything for us to talk about anyway – I just hoped he hadn't forgotten about me, that was all.

"I… I'm not too sure. I hope not," my voice trailed off into silence. I realised I was biting my lip so hard from nerves that I was beginning to taste copper in the back of my throat. "I'll tell you what," I said quickly – a little too quickly, as Éomer quirked an eyebrow at me but thankfully didn't say anything – in a feeble attempt to change the subject, "Get some sleep now, and tomorrow I can teach you how to grass-whistle."

"Grass-whistle?" Éomer repeated, sounding bemused, "What's that?"

"It's exactly what it sounds like. I'd demonstrate now but I don't want to wake up the others – it can get quite loud. The Elflings used to do it all the time, back in Firen."

A grin stretched across Éomer's face and he chuckled quietly. "I look forward to it."

Just like that I was left alone again. It hadn't taken long for Éomer to fall asleep, and though I was tired, for some reason my body didn't quite want to retire just yet.

I felt my conscience getting caught up in Legolas and Gimli's hushed banter, letting myself float absently in a dreamless state. I was still awake, I knew it from the way I could still feel the chilled, velvet blades of grass against my cheek, from where I was resting my head against the ground, and the crackle and snap of twigs and leaves as I shifted my weight around, trying to get comfortable. I was certainly still listening in on my two friends, but other than that my mind felt empty, the words skimming across my mind like a soft breeze scarcely breaking the surface of a lake.

There was a slight scuffling sound, and I heard Gimli laugh while Legolas hummed, the smirk evident in his voice.

"How exactly does this help you?" he asked the Dwarf sceptically, but I was too tired to open my eyes and find out the object of their conversation. "Surely you wouldn't be able to see?" Another rustle, followed by a muted thud of wood tapping the ground, causing Legolas to cry out. "Careful with that! That was my gift from Lady Galadriel, and you know perfectly well that I like to take care of it!"

The Lady of the Golden Wood? They must be talking about the bow of the Galadhrim, that Legolas was so proud of.

Gimli plucked the bow strung and it echoed with an eerie twang; you could practically hear Legolas wince at the sound. "What I don't understand, lad, is how you manage to rival me with naught but a pretty piece of wood and an old string!" he teased, pulling at the bowstring again.

"My bow is not just some carved piece of wood and string, Gimli. It was made by the Galadhrim themselves, and – together with the arrows that go with it – it serves me well." A hard, metallic clang. "I still don't understand how this helps! How do you see when you have such a great lump of metal on your head?"

"And I still don't understand how you can fight without a helmet, lad!" Ah, so it was Gimli's helmet that Legolas was so confused about! Things made a little more sense now. I suddenly had the strangest, most adorable image of Legolas trying to fit Gimli's helmet over the tips of his pointed ears, while the Dwarf had taken one of his friend's arrows and was attempting to nock it into place.

After a while, the two friends trailed off and sat in content silence with one another, unaware that I was still vaguely awake and listening to them – I didn't think I would last much longer though, as by now my mind was jerking back and forth between sleep and reality. I just managed to hear Gimli say something along the lines of, "By the way… how are you and Elwin?" before falling completely into black.

~xXx~

"No, no, like this!" I laughed, slowing Firefoot (which Éomer had informed me was his horse's name) slightly so I could reach down and pluck up another long blade of grass from the forest floor. "Let me show you again – you aren't very good at this, are you?" I sniggered, flattening out the piece of grass between my palms before holding it in place between my two thumbs. A squeaky, high pitched sound reverberated throughout the trees as I blew through the tiny space between my thumbs, giggling at how horrendous it sounded.

"Well, you aren't a very good teacher! Those who can't do, teach," Éomer said, his eyes glinting with amusement. I elbowed him lightly to shut him up.

"Shush, stop mocking me and let the master show you how it is done."

"When is the master getting here, then?"

"That is not being quiet, Lord Éomer," I told him but I knew he was laughing. I showed him carefully again how to set the grass between his thumbs, but he was no good at it and the result sounded even worse than when I tried to grass-whistle.

Gandalf, who was the one leading our small company through the thick, humid mist and dark forest of Fangorn, chuckled softly. "This forest is distressed enough, Miss Elwin, I'm sure it does not need your musical prowess to lighten its mood."

"There's nothing a bit of music won't fix!" I replied, laughing, but decided to stop with the music lessons as Éomer was getting nowhere with them, and I certainly was no musical virtuoso when it came to grass-whistling (if it could even pass as music, that is). We were nearing Isengard anyway; I had gathered it from the way Gandalf had allowed us to slow our pace as Fangorn opened before us, creating an avenue of trees which allowed us access to the ruins of the old Isengard road.

The great stone wall was cracked and splintered into countless jagged shards of heavy stone, and far off, half veiled in swirling steam, stood the Tower of Orthanc. It stood tall and menacing, unbroken by the storm of battle and pale waters which lapped around its feet.

Just looking at it made me feel very small, and the power that emanated from it caused me to shrink back into Firefoot's saddle, gripping the hardened leather with cold fingers.

Strangely, however, atop of the smashed jumble of what was left of the great wall… was a picnic. Two small boys were perched at the very top, sitting amidst a great mass of meat, cheese, breads, fruit, wine, and pieces of rock, puffing on long pipes as they lay back in the sunlight.

Both of them had curly brown hair, happy faces, and sparkling eyes, and although one of them was an inch or two taller than the other, they both couldn't have been more that three-foot-eight (though it was a little hard to tell from so far away). They both wore casual, but worn clothes, coloured waist coats over off-white shirts, and neither of them wore shoes over their too-large, hairy feet.

Goodness, should two boys as young as them be drinking such vast amounts of wine? Or… or were they the Hobbits that I had been told so much about, but hadn't had the pleasure of meeting yet! Frodo and Sam, was it? No, they were on their way to Mordor, not in Isengard… these two had different names.

As soon as they saw us, the taller one of the two small fellows jumped up and gave a magnificent bow. "Welcome, my Lords–" there was a small pause as the Hobbit noticed me riding in front of Éomer, smiling mischievously and wiggling his eyebrows, "and Lady, to Isengard!"