Someone was kissing along her neck, his breath tickling the hairs at her nape and gently drew her from sleep.
"Let me sleep, please? Just a few more minutes." she mumbled trying to burrow her way under the covers, which seemed to just disappear.
"Come now, Natasha. Time to get up and join us for the day. It's a lovely morning outside. Unless you'd prefer to spend the morning in more… interesting activities." the voice took on a suggestive and amused tone.
Natasha grinned and opened her eyes, smiling brightly at the two elves before her. Aragorn's hair was disheveled from sleep, but he was still devilishly handsome. Legolas too was gazing down at her, though not a hair was out of place on his head.
"Disgusting isn't it?" Aragorn teased his husband, tugging a braid playfully, before dipping in for a kiss from him. "It is very difficult to get his hair mussed, though it is a pleasure doing it." He winked at Natasha before kissing her as well.
"Oh I'll bet." She teased back, grinning into the kiss. Both elves were pressed against her, and she cuddled into their warmth, not wanting to get up. Neither, it seemed, did they, but eventually Aragorn pulled away and smiled regretfully.
"Much as I would love to stay this way for the rest of the day, if we do not get up soon I believe the hobbits will surely come looking for us."
Legolas groaned and buried his face in Natasha's hair, blindly reaching to pull Aragorn back down to their cuddling, but Aragorn simply chuckled and set about brushing his hair with his fingers.
Natasha sighed and sat up, but as she reached to adjust her hair, Legolas batted her hands away gently, taking over taming the tangled mess. He pulled out the odd bit of grass that had, sometime during the night, made it into her hair, and was soon braiding it out of her face. Once he was done, he kissed her thoroughly and stood, reaching down to help her up.
"Not sure I should stand after that." She joked, standing.
"Oh I'm sure I could make you weaker in the knees." Aragorn winked suggestively, and pulled her back against him, pressing his lips to her neck.
"Mmm, I'm sure you could." She agreed, humming in pleasure.
"Oh so it's a competition now." Legolas chuckled, ducking in himself for another kiss, this one brief. "I'm sure I would win such a game."
"Didn't one of you say something about hobbits coming to find us?" Natasha laughed, ducking away from both of them and jogging ahead a little. She turned back, and threw them both a smile before running for the Fellowship's pavilion, Legolas and Aragorn close behind her. The hobbits were just waking up and starting on breakfast when they entered the clearing. Natasha's head still hurt, though she was able to think, as Aragorn and Legolas sat on either side of her and filled her plate between them with wonderful treats they'd both had before on trips to the Wood before, and thought she might like. She swatted their hands away, teasing them to let her choose her own food, but all in all, breakfast was filled with soft laughter, and giddiness from the hobbits. Even Boromir seemed to be well rested and rather jovial, telling stories to the awed hobbits of his exploits in Gondor, fighting to keep the Enemy at bay.
Natasha smiled to herself, finishing the tea that had been labeled for her, enjoying the absence of the lack of concentration that had dominated yesterday. Her head still ached from the loss of Gandalf, but she could at least bear it now with the aid of the tea. She stood and, smiling reassuringly at Legolas and Aragorn, walked out of the pavilion to get some fresh air, and some much needed alone time. The two elves watched her go, half inclined to follow but Lady Galadriel's voice entered their heads ever so briefly.
"Allow her this time. It may be quite some time before she is allowed to be alone again."
Meanwhile, Natasha's feet carried her unknowing along the paths of Caras Galadhon. She paid no heed to where she was walking, her fingers running idly along tree bark as she passed. She was seeking her brother with her mind. She'd kept up with him as much as she could, though it required a great deal of concentration and the ability to be able to sit quietly for a long period of time, but they'd managed to communicate more than just feelings at the distances they were currently at a number of times. Not finding her brother's link, her mind wandered to all the events that had led her here. Everything had looked so hopeful when they were still in Rivendell, and even along the road. It was only in Moria when everything had turned so bleak, and the stark reality of what they were doing seemed to hit not only her, but the rest of the company.
There was now a haunted look in Frodo's eyes whenever he looked to her. Fear and grief were mixed in his eyes when he thought no one was looking. Sam's eyes were filled with concern for his master, though he too grieved for the loss of Gandalf, composing a verse of song for him about his fireworks. Merry and Pippin were not unchanged either. Though they were still impish and free spirited, it was much toned down. Boromir's shoulders seemed to be held down by a much larger weight than before.
He'd come around since they'd formed the Fellowship. Even apologizing for his behavior back in Gondor, when Natasha and Gandalf had been there last. He'd explained that sometimes it was best to simply follow what his father said, and to act accordingly, than to cause an argument with the aging Steward. In fact, one night when he and Natasha were the last one's in the Hall of Fire, he'd confessed to her his concern for his father, asking for her insight.
Flashback
"My father is a much tried man, Lady Natasha." Boromir started hesitantly, staring into his goblet of wine.
"The pressures of ruling a kingdom in the stead of the King must be very difficult to bear." Natasha nodded, catching his eyes. "And one that you too will have to bear when he decides to pass on."
Boromir huffed out a joyless laugh, shaking his head. "My brother is much better suited for such cares. He is much better equipped in his mind to handle the pressures, and the demands of state that are the Steward's. Did you know that he speaks seven different languages?" he asked proudly. "And he can read and write in every one of them. I am glad he was not born first though. His heart is far too kind to have been the Captain of the Guard."
"He was of great help to Gandalf, and me, when we were searching through the archives." Natasha mused, listening intently to the Champion of Gondor. "Did anything come of Gandalf's request that the archives be better taken care of?"
"No." chuckled Boromir sadly. "Faramir had taken that duty on himself when I was still in the city. But now, I think he is too busy performing my duties as Captain of the Guard. I cannot wait to see the White City again, if only to remove him to where he is most happy."
To say that Natasha was surprised at all this heartfelt talk would be an understatement. But she felt that perhaps it was a good thing. Giving her a better understanding of the man who had caused her no small amount of grief in Minas Tirith. The smile on Boromir's face faded however, and worry lines creased his face, aging him greatly.
"I worry for my Father though." He continued. "He has much changed in recent years. He was changed after Mother died giving birth to Faramir, but recently, he has…changed, is the only word I can think of. He secludes himself nearly every night, locking the door of his chambers and not letting anyone in until the morning. His face has aged so much, and there are times when I swear he has seen something of the events that are occurring before they have even occurred (note). He is more prone to insulting Faramir than he ever was. Before, he would simply avoid Faramir, for she looks much like our Mother, but now…" Boromir paused, running a tired hand over his face. "Now he takes every opportunity to berate and belittle my brother, as though he were the most hated thing in all of Middle Earth."
"Grief does strange things to anyone's mind. But if you are saying that this is just recently, perhaps there is something else at work, though what I cannot tell." Natasha replied.
"I would like to apologize for how I treated you before in Minas Tirith, and again at the Council." Boromir said, looking at her sadly. "My father has gotten such strange ideas in his head and has taken such a dislike for any opposition that sometimes it has become easier to simply go along with what he is doing, with what he is saying. It is no excuse that I offer, merely an explanation, but I can say how truly regretful I am that I let it color my opinion of you."
Natasha nodded in thanks, thinking over what she had been told. "Perhaps you should mention these changes to Gandalf." She said quietly, hesitantly. "He may be able to figure out a reason for the change in your father."
"Do you think he would?" Boromir asked unsure. "My father has not been kind to Gandalf…"
"I'm sure Gandalf is able to see beyond such a petty thing, if there is a cause that can be rectified behind it. And if Gandalf will not do it, though I very much think that he will, I will go with you to learn the cause, will that suffice?"
"Very much so, my lady." Boromir sighed in relief, bowing deeply to her as he extended his hand to help her rise from her seat. "You have put my mind greatly at ease this night. Please allow me the honor of escorting you to your chambers."
"I'd be honored if you did, Champion of Gondor." Natasha smiled gently, taking the offered hand and allowing hers to be tucked into the crook of the Gondorian's elbow as he led her from the Hall of Fire.
Note: In the books, I believe it is briefly surmised that Denethor, Steward of Gondor may have looked into the Minas Tirith palantir. If I am wrong, then I am taking artistic license with this bit, as a way to explain Denethor's behavior.
Also, as a side note and to avoid any confusion from the previous chapter: the magick of both the Red Sorcerer and Natasha are slightly different from that of Gandalf, the rest of the Istari, and even Sauron, who was once a Maia though of greater power than the Istari who came to Middle Earth long after he had begun his service to Morgoth and his own conquest of Middle Earth. It is also different from that of the elves, and so is virtually untraceable. The Red Sorcerer would have been able to penetrate the defenses of Lothlorien in the guise of a robin, as he did, however, if he had been seen by any of the sentries, they would have noticed a distinct feeling of dread, and if they had gotten a closer look, they would have noticed that the coloring of this particular robin would have been off, his eyes would have been a deep red. Hope that clarifies some things.