Sorry this took FOREVER, but it's here. Enjoy and go frolic.

Chapter 9

"Mari, you must wake," said the soft voice of Arewen, gently waking the gypsy woman from her sleep. Never had she so sweetly been taken from her dreams. "Wake up," she persisted. "It is my wedding day!"

She opened her eyes and beheld quite a sight. The princess was dressed in a gossamer gown of sea foam green. Such a color was in stark contrast to the autumnal colors the other elves wore and that she had been wearing until now.

Groggily, she sat up. Instantly, Arewen thrust a yellow bundle into her arms. "What is this?"

"A dress for you to wear!" Arewen was truly giddy now.

"Where did it come from?" She unwrapped it and saw that the length would fit her well enough. "I'm far too short to fit into your clothes."

"My grandmother has the gift of foresight. She suggested that I bring a dress of mine from when I was younger. Now I see why. Go change." With that, Arewen pulled Mari to her feet and shoved her in the direction of the river.

Mari dressed as quickly as speed would lend itself and rushed back to camp. All of the elves were still packing for the last stretch of the journey; all except Legolas. He was already packed and mounted on his steed. Both rider and horse seemed to be filled with nervous excitement and looked ready to bolt toward Minas Tirith. He spotted her staring at him and walked his horse to where she stood. Although she had made up her mind to not be scared of him, Mari was still filled with an eerie feeling as he got closer and closer.

"Lady Mari," he addressed her with a slight tilt of his head but delivered his question more with his eyes than his whole face. "Are you eager to reach Minas Tirith?"

Of course! The sooner we get there, the sooner I can be free of this haunting band of travelers. "Yes…" she said, cautiously.

As soon as she replied, he promptly scooped her up (much as Iflaim had done the day before) as sped away from the camp site, onto the road and toward the city.

"Legolas, bring me back!" she shouted to him once she'd caught her breath.

"Why? You said you were eager to get to Minas Tirith."

"Yes, but the others…"

"...Will catch up to us."

"Why have you not waited for them?"

"I was sent ahead to announce their arrival."

"Then why are you bringing me?"

"I have some questions to ask you."

"And if I refuse to answer?"

In a singular motion, he brought the horse to a stop and pulled a knife from his back. He placed the cold steel against her neck, softly.

"Then I'll slice you and say you were slain by a beast." He whispered, moving the sharp side of the blade across her skin, though not breaking it. "There would be no one to say otherwise." Silence was her reply and sign of compliance. Sheathing his knife, he started his horse back into a fast gallop for a few more minutes than slowed to a trot. "To begin, why didn't you tell the others that it was I who had hit you?"

"May I ask a question for each of yours?"

He was amused by her request. "You may, but I may choose not to answer."

"Hey! If you don't have to answer then why should I…?" her protest was cut short by the cool steel against her neck once again. "Ah. Right. Could you repeat your question?"

"Why didn't you tell the others it was I who bruised your face?'

"I…" She hesitated. Not knowing what to say.

"I'll know if you're lying, so I suggest you not."

What was she to do? She had always been taught to never let your enemy know you were afraid of them, but what could be done in this situation?

"Answer me, Mari."

"I was afraid."

"Of me."

"Of you."

There was a pause before he responded.

"That was not my intent."

In spite of her fear, his hypocrisy threw her into a rage.

"Was not your intent? Was not your intent! What do you mean, it was not your intent? How do you feel when you threaten me, ambush me in the dark, give me evil glares, put a blade to my neck? Look at you in admiration? Feel comfort? You've acted strange and cruel to me when others haven't, though strange is a word I will use rather liberally seeing as everything is strange to me since I've been BROUGHT TO ANOTHER WORLD! Yes, Legolas, I was afraid of you, of what will happen once the king passes judgment on me once we reach Minas Tirith, of what I left behind to never see again, of what is to come…!"

By now she had started crying. God! Why have I allowed myself to come undone! It was as if the flood gates of her tears had been opened. Break down was inevitable. It just happened to be her terrible luck that Legolas had decided to bring alone, ahead of the group.

At some point, she heard him sheath his knife. "Stop your weeping," he told her, coldly. "It cannot help you. No matter how much you scream or wail, nothing is going to change. Besides, you'll spook my horse."

"Would it kill you to act a bit more civil toward me?"

"We elves are immortal. There are few things that can kill me," he responded. She wasn't sure if he'd caught the sarcasm in her question.

She ended her crying in a heavy pant of frustration. In front of her she noticed his hand was shaking as he gripped the reigns. It suddenly stopped when he gripped harder, turning his knuckles white. His hand relaxed after a few seconds.

"Legolas," she started, carefully, "Something is wrong with you."

"You overstep your boundaries, Mari," he responded between his teeth.

"There's something none of you are telling me. The others know; I see the way they look at you, speak to you, take you aside from the group."

He took a deep, calming breath. "There are things you cannot understand."

"Can't understand, or won't be told?"

He raised his voice this time. "I tell you again: you overstep your boundaries."

With that, he kicked his horse into a fast gallop. They made a sharp turn off the road.

"Why have we left the road?" she asked loudly, above the sound of the wind rushing in her ears.

"You may only ask a question if I ask one first, remember?"

"Have you a question?"

A moment passed.

"How did you get such an injury on your back?"

Again, this put her in a strange position. I can't just say that I fell from the sky...

"Well?"

"I fell."

"You fell."

"Yes."

"From where?"

"Up high." She heard his knife sliding from its sheath. Would he be able to hold the blade still against her neck at this speed? "I fell from a tree! I climbed a tree to see where I was. On the way down, I lost my footing.

The knife slid back into its sheath and she let out a quiet sigh of relief. Thank goodness. He didn't know I was lying.

"You should stop acting that way," he said. "You know when you're doing it. It causes me to be the opposite of 'civil', as you say."

They rode for some ten more minutes before she spoke again.

"Why did we leave the road?" she asked, not wanting her submission to him to have been in vain.

"We will reach Minas Tirith sooner this way."

"If that is true, why is the road simply not built here?"

"Because the path is twisting and full of peril." Mari stiffened at this. "You need not fear, as you are with me. You now owe me one question." As these words ended, he slowed his horse to a stop. Legolas dismounted then pulled Mari to the ground. He shoved her in the direction of a stream, a small tributary of the Anduin. "Your face is tear stained. Wash it. We would not want the rangers to see you in such a state."

He's damn calculating, she thought. Any trust she had in him quickly diminished and she became aware she was in a strange place with a strange man.

After she washed her face, they rode hard for another several minutes before he brought them to a stop again.

"Why are we stopped?" she asked. He did not respond.

Suddenly, she found that they were surrounded by a dozen men, cloaked in camouflaging garb. They all had bows and arrows pointed at the two mounted. Mari gasped in fear, reflexively pressing her body back against Legolas. She reached down, moving to grab the knives beneath her skirt, but before she could do anything further, Legolas stilled her hands with his own, clutching them and pressing them into her thighs.

"State your name and business in Gondor," barked one of the cloaked men."I am Legolas of the woodland realm, friend to the beloved Aragorn. I bring news of the king's bride-to-be."

His calm amazed her. She did not think it was wise to not have her own weapons at hand when these attackers had theirs. Although Legolas seemed to know what he was doing, the men did not back down or lower their weapons.

"Lord Legolas!" called a man from somewhere in the rear of the group of armed men. Her head snapped in the direction of the voice. "Men, lower your weapons. Have you no eyes? Can you not see we are in the presence of the greatest warrior of the fairest beings upon all the face of Middle Earth? More importantly, he is one of the great heroes of the third age. Before you sits one of the Nine of the Fellowship of the Ring."

All the men lowered their weapons and stood in awe of the elf before them. Many of them bowed their heads in respects with a quick murmur of "My Lord." The man who had been speaking stepped forward and stood to the side of Legolas' horse. He pulled back his hood to reveal a dark, weathered and handsome face. He looked up at Mari, his eyes twinkling; she nearly blushed.

"Your words flatter me, Lord Faromir," responded Legolas to the handsome man.

"Javin," Faromir called out. A smaller, younger man rushed to hie side.

"Yes my Lord?"

"Bring word to Minas Tirth that Lord Legolas has returned and that behind him comes the king's betrothed."

"Yes, my Lord." The man sped away beyond some tall bushes.

Throughout all of this, all Mari could think was, What are they saying? She couldn't understand a word of the strange language they spoke. Perhaps this is the Western Tongue the elves have been referring to.

She knew this location was not Minas Tirith, so it could not be their final destination. Of what she could gather from the tone and expressions of the handsome man, he and Legolas were friends. She also saw that the man had power over the others since they had lowered their weapons at his words. This eased her nerves a bit, but she was still very confused.

"Legolas," she asked softly, "What are they saying? That language they speak, is it the Western Tongue Iflaim mentioned?"

A passive, "Shh," was his only verbal response. Physically, however, he gripped her wrist painfully hard as an incentive to be quiet. She did her best not to flinch from the pain.

"How rude of me!" exclaimed Faromir. "Allow me to introduce myself, my lady. I am Faromir, Steward of Gondor."

Mari continued glancing around the surrounding area as if she hadn't heard him.

"Forgive her," intermediated Legolas. "She does note speak Western Tongue. Mari..." Once he had her attention he softly demanded in Sindarian, "Greet him as Iflaim taught you."

"Hell-oh." The word fell from her mouth rather clumsily.

"Welcome to Gondor, my Lady," he responded in sloppy Sindarian, though she was able to understand him.

"You speak as the elves do!" Mari exclaimed.

"I'm sure there's many an elf who'd be offended by that statement. I only try," joked Faromir in modesty.

"You succede well enough. At least I can understand you!"

Faromir laughed at this.

The three of them were approached by another young man who had brought a horse with him. Faromir mounted the horse.

"Come friends," he said, switching back to Western Tongue. "We ride for Minas Tirith!"

Without another word, Legolas and Faromir ripped their stallions to a full speed gallop down a straight, wide path. Soon the path came to the end of the forest.

Ahead of them, Mari saw the river. As the river continued, it ran through a mountain of rubble that looked as if it had once been a city. The closer they came to the rubble, the clearer it became it was that this city had endured recent and severe destruction. Soon they were riding through the city's ruins. Soldiers were spread throughout the place, seemingly working. Mari could not see how any attempt at fixing the damage would prove fruitful.

As they rode, Faromir shouted, "Lord Legolas returns! In his tow comes Lord Aragorn's future wife. The men would stop and stare as they passed, though it happened quickly. They then dropped their work all together and ran after them.

They suddenly stopped so quickly that it made Mari lurch back, slamming into Legolas and nearly sliding off the horse. Legolas caught her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back to him.

"Is this it?" she asked, looking across the river in front of them.

"No," responded Legolas. He said no more and Mari didn't push for any more information.

She felt very ill at ease, for it seemed as if an entire battalion of soldiers had joined them since they first entered the city. They all looked curious and wildly excited, shouting what sounded like questions at them. Faromir did his best to calm them and answer their pleas.

After a minute or so of waiting, a small boat came to them.

"The bridges were destroyed," explained Faromir. "Until they are rebuilt, we depend on these ferries." The boarded, staying mounted on their horses.

"Those soldiers," asked Mari, "What were they asking?"

"They were merely confused," he said with a bit of laughter. "They thought that you were the Lady Arewen. When I told them that you were not, they thought you were wife to Legolas." At this, he peeked a glance at her. He found the look of disgust on her face only topped by the even more outraged face of Legolas'. He laughed aloud. "I of course explained that you were not, but I think that may have confused them further."

The ferry touched the shore; they had reached the other side of the river. Almost instantly, they took off at their former blinding speed. There were more soldiers on this side of the city who also tried to follow the riders, but could not keep up. Faromir shouted the same words as before so that the citizens might prepare themselves for their future queen's arrival.

Beyond the tops of ruined buildings, Mari could see a mountain that was not too far ahead of them. As they came closer to the city she noticed that there were houses and other structures built into the mountain. Finally, they left the city and road toward the mountain. It was then that she realized that only part of the mountain was actual mountain; the rest was a city. Her mouth fell open at the spectacular sight and she gasped.

At her quick intake of breath, Legolas' arm went around her again.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good. I thought you might faint." In spite of his words, he didn't sound the least bit concerned.

"Faint?"

"Yes, my lady," Faromir said. "It has been known to happen to those who lay eyes on Minas Tirith for the first time."

"Minas Tirith." She whispered the name.

As they approached the giant archway at the entrance of the city, horns began to blow, sounding their arrival. Two giant doors opened; the gates to the city.

"These gates are only temporary," Faromir called out to her again. "The true ones were destroyed in the siege. They were far more impressive."

Before she really had a chance to turn this information over in her head, they crossed the threshold of the gates, astounded guards in their wake. There were many who seemed astounded by them. Though they were racing by, on the faces Mari could distinguish she saw many of the same expressions as she had seen on the soldiers. Unlike the soldiers, they only stopped to gaze for a moment before going before quickly heading in the direction they were headed. There were many people doing this, she noted. The population of the city was far greater than she expected. She had heard stories of the crowds in Paris. Could there be as many people here? The city itself was also much larger than it looked from afar. It was divided into levels, an archway (where she assumed a gate used to be) stood at the entrance of each level. The higher they rose, the more she wondered what was at the top. She got her answer sooner than she expected.

They reached the top most level, finally slowing to an easy gallop then a trot. The space was flat and open and its white stone, polished to perfection, shone in the sun light. This level was entirely in contrast to the rest of the city.

"It's magnificent up here," she remarked, still in awe of her surroundings.

"Yes," agreed Faromir. "It is the one place to have remained untouched by battle."

She barely took notice of when they stopped, for she was still amazed by this new and beautiful place. It was in sharp contrast to the beauty she had seen thus far in Middle Earth; forests, Ents and Elves were of a different source of brilliance. The world of humans was a marvel to her. In obvious ways they were so much like her and yet so otherworldly themselves. Quite literally otherworldly, she thought.

Mari snapped out of her reverie when she heard someone call out to Legolas in Sindarian. She turned her head to see a ruggedly handsome man (more so even than Faromir) coming toward them.

"Master elf," he said, "I thought I charged you with bringing my wife, not to find one of your own."