A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. Don't really like how it came out. Anyway, leave a review and tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: ... Ugh ...
Amy liked routine. She liked having things scheduled, all in order, in note cards or in color-coded boxes. She wasn't exactly a control freak, but everything was easier when you knew what to do day after day, even though it would get a little boring. However, traveling in a fictional story with fantasy characters with your two best friends, talking all day with dwarves and elves did not get boring. Neither did their schedule, mostly because they did nothing but walk all day. Eventually, Lizzie quit griping about sleeping on the ground, stopped whining about the thin, watery stew that was usually incorporated with racy rabbit, and toned down her wheedling to stop for lunch in the middle of the day. Sam formed a quick friendship with both the hobbits and Aragorn, for reasons Amy still couldn't quite fathom. Aragorn didn't talk much, but once or twice Amy could have sworn she had seen him smile over one of the wisecracks Sam snapped at Boromir. Amy's friends totaled two, Gimli and Legolas, and it didn't take her long to find out that Sam and Lizzie were the mild equivalent to the fiery dwarf and the cool-tempered elf. And they didn't just clash with a bang and a crash, they clashed with the force of a mach-seven atom bomb when they really got going. All of Legolas's cool composure sizzled to a crumpled heap when Gimli made a few personal jabs, such as insulting Legolas's father, Thranduil. Legolas had retorted back a snappish remark about Gimli's mother that would be unrepeatable, and Aragorn was forced to take Legolas aside and berate him in Elvish. Legolas emerged five minutes later, very red-faced and he offered a stiff apology to the dwarf, who grudgingly accepted it. But aside from Legolas and Gimli's constant bickering, Sam's constant wisecracks, and Lizzie's constant flirting with Aragorn and Boromir, Amy was almost content. Things had settled into a routine. As long as there was monotony, there was safety. Although she still preferred sleeping in a nice, warm bed with a long, hot shower afterwards, she almost got used to the rocky ground, the icy sponge baths that were hastily grabbed in the dewy hours of the morning. She learned quickly to tune out Sam, Lizzie, Legolas and Gimli's arguments and soon developed a habit of walking by herself off to the side. The scenery was beautiful, jagged black mountain peaks clawing at the foggy gray sky that still had a frosty touch of winter in the air. The rolling hillocks became sort of soothing, and Amy found herself missing it when the ground began to slope steeply upwards in one continuous hill.
She was almost content.
But the fact still remained that she was a foreigner in a strange lands, as out of place as a rose in a snow bank. Lizzie was continuously trying to explain their world to the Fellowship, but everybody merely raised their eyebrows and furrowed their brows. Trying to explain iPods and cars to people whose greatest invention was the wagon would be like trying to explain algebra to three year olds. Amy missed getting up in the morning and reading her romance novels, and she missed her window seat where she would write on her laptop. She missed the Ricker's fluffy Persian cat, Mr. Sparkles, and their shaggy black mutt, Lucifer. When Amy really came down to it, at the very core of things, she was homesick. She missed the bitter, tangy smell of the urban city where she would go on the weekends with her mother so they could go shopping, she missed the twittering birds in the morning when she woke up in the outskirts of New York City on a three acre lot. In fact, the only thing which comforted her about her new life was that things were folding into a routine, and the routine was so boring and edging on depressing that Amy was able to get lost in it. She pushed back her feelings in the morning, when chubby little Samwise fried up sausages and onions, swallowed her heartsickness during the day when she listened to them discuss strategies in low murmurs, and choked back the lump that lodged in her throat whenever Lizzie mentioned home. One three occasions she had buried her head in her blanket and cried for a few minutes, just aching all over as she longed for her old home. She had tried to be as quiet as possible - she hated to be pitied - but she had a sneaking suspicion Legolas had heard her. There could be no other accounting for his sudden turn in personality. He was doing all sorts of nice things with her, such as telling stories about elves and singing a few upbeat songs in Elvish. The language was hauntingly beautiful, silvery and sweet, like a gently rippling brook tumbling around smooth, mossy rocks. Just listening to him speak in Elvish was like hearing a song, but when he actually accompanied a melody to it, it nearly broke her heart.
On one rare occasion, Gandalf allowed the Fellowship to pause during midday, on account of Sam's arm. The shaggy-haired brunette was healing nicely, but if she pushed too long and too hard she would break out in a fever and they would lost much precious time. While Aragorn broke camp and began rationing out a few chunks of black bread - which was traveling bread that needed to be soaked to be even moderately chewable - Amy noticed Lizzie giggling over something with Boromir. Their flirting had escalated to something very serious, and Amy made a mental note to keep a closer eye on them in the future. Lizzie was pretty and such a bimbo that she probably didn't realize the effect she was having on the blonde Gondorian. As men went, the young Steward was rather ruggedly handsome, but not exactly Amy's type. Lizzie, on the other hand, appeared to have no problem with dealing him playful little nudges and pats on the shoulder when he teased her. Amy was so busy thinking about what would happen if Lizzie and Boromir fell in love that she didn't hear Sam calling to her until Lizzie shouted her name directly in her ear. "Amy!"
"Ouch! What?" Amy said, and muffled a shriek as she toppled off the gray boulder she had been resting on. "Jeez, Lizzie, don't do that! I was thinking!" Amy rubbed her ears and shot a very nasty look at the air headed blonde, who merely flashed her the best supermodel smile she had ever seen.
"Don't blame me. Sam's the one who wanted to get your attention," Lizzie chirped. "What did you want, Sam? Tips on how to comb out your hair with only one arm?" Lizzie raked her blue eyes down Sam's shaggy brown hair, and the brunette scowled deeply at her and flipped her the bird. Amy shot up a quick, grateful missive to whatever deity was listening that the Fellowship had no idea what Sam had just done.
"If I need hairstyling tips, Liz, I will not ask Amy, who happens to have the school award for the worst hairstyle in the history of Harbor High." Sam snapped. Then she glanced over at Amy and offered an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, Amy. It's just, you know, red curls are meant to be smooth. Not… well, you know." Amy groaned and tried unsuccessfully to run her fingers through her thick red mane. With only Gimli's beard comb to brush her hair, her red curls had become a snarled clump of bushy, fiery hair.
"Oh, forget it," Amy sighed. "I give up on my hair. I should just cut it all off. It's too nasty and tangled for me to even try and brush it all out. What did you want anyway, Sam?" Amy sat up and looked at the brunette, who raised her eyebrows and looked at her expectantly.
"Remember? You promised to ask Legolas and Aragorn -" Sam got no further before Amy waved her off, fighting back butterflies. She remembered now. Two days ago Sam had politely - or as politely as Sam got, which was basically a shove and a threat - told her to ask Legolas and Aragorn to teach them how to fight. Sam knew how to knife fight, which was very different from the mock spars Merry, Pippin and Boromir completed every evening. Watching them duel had implanted in her an insatiable desire to learn how to fight, so she had naturally asked Amy about it. When then shy redhead sheepishly admitted that she had a phobia of blood and the idea of swinging a sword was not appealing, Sam began needling her for days. Lizzie was usually too busy cooing over something with Boromir to be of any assistance, and Sam said she didn't feel right asking Legolas about it, so it was up to Amy. However, when Amy pointed out that Sam's arm was still in a sling, the brunette scowled and insisted that Amy, the meek and humble, needed to learn how to fight.
And she was absolutely terrified.
But going against Sam's wishes was not something she wanted to do. The trashy brunette would probably give her the cold shoulder for days, and then snap some rude comment at her. Of the three girls, Sam was the best at dealing wounding blows with words. So Amy got up reluctantly and went over to Legolas, who was crouching by the fire talking to Gandalf. At her approach, he got to his feet lightly and examined her. She wore a determined, pinched look on her face that was rather unsettling, and he raised one eyebrow. "May I be of assistance, Lady Amy?" he asked. Despite her best efforts, Amy still had not yet managed to get him to call her Amy. She shifted nervously and rubbed one leg with her foot, tugging her earlobe simultaneously.
"Um, yeah, we, I mean, I, was wondering … well, it was Sam, really, but, you know, um …" Amy folded her arms tightly across her chest and crossed her legs, willing herself the courage to spit out her request. Why was it that the blonde elf made her go so stuttery and wobbly? "Well, Sam and I, mostly Sam, you know, saw Boromir and the Hobbits fighting, and, uh, she wants to learn how." the last sentence was said so quietly Legolas wouldn't have caught it had he not been an elf. He raised both his eyebrows, then glanced at Sam, giving her a Are-You-Serious look.
"There is no need for you to learn how to fight," Legolas said slowly. "When we get to Gondor, you will stay there in the court. Additionally, it is quite difficult to learn even the rudiments of sparring." he said. Sam got to her feet and almost said something, but Amy, relieved beyond her wildest dreams, pulled her back down.
"Okay, thanks a lot! We won't bother you anymore - Sam, sit down, - thanks for all your trouble!" Amy said, then sat down hard on the boulder with Sam. The brunette was glaring at her. "What? I asked him and he said no. Enough is enough. We'll go to Gondor and we'll stay there, okay? We don't need to learn how."
Sam said nothing, but the sizzling glare she offered said it all.
09
Legolas was perched on a boulder, watching the downy gray skies. Something was stirring in the air, an evil was approaching. He could feel it tingling through his system, his bones quivering as he felt some electric current waft through the brisk winds. But he couldn't pinpoint it, couldn't tell exactly what it was. He knew that Aragorn would most likely scoff and tell him he was being paranoid, so he sat on his rock and kept his mouth shut. To distract himself from the hair on the back of his neck prickling, he looked at th girls and entertained himself by watching them interact. Amy was discussing something in a low voice with Sam, who was pointedly ignoring her. Legolas hid a smile. He knew why Sam wanted to learn how to fight. She was a hero, a woman who couldn't stand being defenseless and weak, who always wanted to be on top. The very fact that her arm was hampered was annoying enough, but having to rely on strangers to protect her would be the ultimate blow to Sam's dense pride. He hoped that the fight wouldn't last long. It wouldn't hurt if he taught a bit of swordplay to the feisty girl, and he resolved to teach her as soon as her arm was better. If only for Amy's sake. Not for the first time, he wondered what he saw in the girl. She was submissive, meek, quiet, domestic, sensible, and in every way not the kind of woman he would ever think of befriending.
The tingling sensation increased, and he turned towards the papery gray skies. There was a sudden stirring in the wind, an increase in the stiff breeze, and he saw the fuzzy black shapes of birds approaching rapidly. His heartbeat doubled as he realized with a shock what they were. "Crebain! Crebain from Dunland!" he cried as he leapt off the rock. The Fellowship sprang into action; Samwise doused the flames with the pot of water he had been boiling, Gandalf gathered up their packs, Merry and Pippin led Bill the Pony off into the bushes, and the rest of them began scrambling around to find a place to hide. All, minus the girls. Boromir had pulled Lizzie off into one of the scrub where the two of them were hiding, and Aragorn was wedging himself underneath a rock when Sam dashed over. The two of them hid underneath the rock ledge, and now the only one out in the open was Amy, who was looking completely bewildered and on the verge of hysteria or tears, or perhaps both. As she raced around, looking for a place to hide, she could hear the screams of the birds as they approached. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, she was so scared. And why was she so scared, she wondered; it must have been the Fellowship's reaction to the birds. Something shot out and snatched her ankle, toppling her to the ground and dragging her forcibly underneath a slight overhang. Tears welled in her eyes as she felt a hand clamp down on her mouth. She had been shoved literally into a spooning formation with some person whom she didn't know. One leg was thrown over both of hers in an effort to keep her completely still, and one hand was over her mouth while the other arm was tight against her waist. Unwillingly the tears spilled onto her cheeks as her scraped and bloodied hands and shins began throbbing painfully.
Later, when Legolas's memories of Amy were precious pearls to be savored in the back of his mind, he would try and remember what it felt like to be holding her that closely, that intimately. It was a completely innocent gesture at the time, but he would lie awake at night and try to feel once more the gentle curve of her hip against his forearm, the softness of her skin against his hands. But at that particular moment in time, all he could think of was if the Crebain had seen her, and if their whole quest had been ruined by a naïve girl from a distant land. He waited, every muscle on red alert as he heard the flapping and cawing of the birds wheeling and screaming overhead, waited for what seemed like forever but in reality was a mere minute or two, waited until there was a deafening silence ruling the land of Middle Earth. Slowly, he eased the pressure on her body and Amy scrambled out of his arms as quickly as a mouse down a hole. She unearthed herself from the overhand and bent double at the waist, gasping for breath and trying unsuccessfully to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. Her palms left bloody smears on her face as she scuffed away the dampness hastily, unconsciously painting her in some barbaric light. Her shins and knees were still oozing droplets of blood from a few nasty scraps against the rocks and dirt, and she gingerly touched them with her battered hands. She heard Legolas come up behind her and she tensed. What had he been thinking as he held her that tightly? She was mortified, but he didn't appear to have any emotion at all on his face. His mechanical inquire about her bloodied hands and knees was mechanical, forced, tight and frosty. As soon as he had determined that she wasn't seriously injured, he made a beeline over to Gandalf and Aragorn who were already huddled together talking in low whispers. "Do you think they saw us?" he asked in a low voice. Aragorn looked at him and shook his head.
"'Tis too dangerous to take this route," Gandalf said wearily. "We shall have to bundle up warm and take the path of Cadrahas. 'Tis our only option." he said. Legolas frowned and looked at Aragorn.
"We cannot drop the women off at Gondor if we take the path of Cadrahas. They shall have to travel with us, and they are ill prepared to make a mountain journey. They are completely innocent of how cold it will be in the regions of Cadrahas; dressed as they are now they shall surely freeze." Legolas said.
"There is nothing we can do," Aragorn said grimly. "They will have to accompany us on our quest, at least until we reach a safe haven where they may stay. As for now, they shall have to bear the cold. When the temperature becomes too extreme, we shall lend them our cloaks." Aragorn turned as if to go, then glanced at Legolas and Boromir, who had just come up. "And we shall have to teach them how to fight."