A/N: Excellent job on reviewing, you guys! Enjoy your traditional cookie! Oh, and let's play spot the pairing again! Every correct answer gets a Klondike Bar with Heath Bar Crunch! (Sorry, I'm simultaneously making dinner and posting this chapter, so I'm kind of food oriented.) But seriously, look closely and see if you can catch my "tiny" pairing. xD
The silver trees stood like majestic pillars reaching to the heavens, the gray bark etched with beautiful spiraling patterns. Golden leaves clung desperately to their branches, but a good quantity of them had fallen to the ground and carpeted the forest floor with shimmering yellow leaves. Sam glanced behind her, her dark eyes dropping low as soon as she ascertained that Amy was all right. The quiet redhead had collapsed two hours ago, and Legolas was carrying her. The tall elf hadn't said a word all day; indeed, any conversation that was partaken between the Fellowship members was stilted and coarse. Lizzie looked terrible; her long, straight blonde hair was matted and her clear blue eyes were rimmed with red. Dark circles had been stamped underneath her eyes, and her face looked drawn and tired. All of them were soaked with the spray of black and green blood, and some of the Hobbits were still nursing wounds. They had paused just outside of Moria to tend to Sam, Frodo and Amy's wounds; it had been determined that Amy's belly wounds were not life threatening; a good many of them were quite shallow, except for a nasty bite near her navel. But coupled with the stress of Moria and the loss of Gandalf, her system had been overworked harshly. Sam knew Amy; the poor dear kept going and going until she literally ran herself to the ground. She kept her eyes straight ahead as they trooped through the forest, her knuckles whitening as she gripped her broken battle axe. She still hadn't let go of it; the weapon was old, rusty, and chipped in three places, but it felt good in her hands.
Gimli was tense, and when he was tense, the entire Fellowship was tense. "Tread softly, Hobbits," he warned, his voice barely above a whisper, his thick Dwarvish accent hampering his words. "They say that a sorceress of mighty power lives in these woods. She ensnares her victims with her extreme beauty, and when they least expect it -" he dragged a finger across his throat melodramatically. Seeing as this failed to get a rise out of anyone, he puffed out his chest slightly. "But this is one dwarf she won't lay a finger on!" he boasted. "I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!"
A rather sharp arrow was suddenly dangerously close to his neck. His eyes crossed as he glanced at the smooth silver shaft, flighted with slick white feathers. The intricate golden bow was too close for comfort, and the handsome elf who wielded it had a smirk on his face. Long silver hair had glided over his broad shoulders, and Sam could tell he was different from Legolas and the other elves. He was taller and broader, with piercing gray eyes that flickered between the members of the Fellowship. "This dwarf," he drawled, stretching and warping the word dwarf until it sounded like an oath, "breathes so loudly we could have shot him in the dark."
Sam felt a low growl rising in her throat, but fought to keep her raging temper. They had struggled so far to be hampered by an elvish pretty-boy who thought it would be funny to stick arrows in people's faces. It is quite possible that Sam would have let fly with her broken axe until Haldir was pinned to the tree by it, but Aragorn stepped forward. "Haldir," he said urgently, speaking in rapid Elvish, "We come here for your help. We have friends who need protection and desire medical aid." Sam glanced between Haldir and Aragorn, gauging their faces against Aragorn's quick, genteel Elvish. Gimli didn't seem so wild about Haldir either.
"Aragorn! These woods speak of danger. We should take our wounded elsewhere and go back." Gimli said. Haldir shot him a very nasty look that did not bode well for the next person to speak.
"You are in the woods of Lorien," he growled, sounding as though he were explaining why the moon was round to a child, "You cannot return." Haldir's silvery gray eyes flitted through the ranks of the Fellowship members, then fell upon Frodo. The young Hobbit drew impulsively nearer to Aragorn. "Come, little one," Haldir said, his voice gentler. "She is waiting."
09
The city stretched before them like a glittering map, gigantic trees heaving upwards as they stood in awe upon a low hill. The black trees stood out sharply against the silvery glow the moon was giving to the entire forest, and they could see the slight figures of elves sitting on the branches. Gray cottages, smooth walls, still pools with small footbridges going over the calm waters, it was all too much for Sam to take in at once. Small birds, flashes of green on their chests, fly from branch to branch, warbling lightly in the serenity of Lothlorien. They followed Haldir over a wide path, across a pebbled bridge that draws breathtakingly close to the edge of a cliff, passing over a waterfall which plunged down hundreds of feet. Sam felt the spray on her face, and it was like a breath of fresh air in an oven. Wiping her cheeks hastily, she continued on, her scuffed, tattered Nikes barely making any noise as they continued through Lothlorien. Mountains stood out harshly against the dark sky, black teeth tearing into the fabric of the air, peaks swathed in mysterious clouds and icy snow.
The staircase ahead of them was sweeping and long, something that belonged on the Titanic. The Fellowship stood in a line, and Sam caught a glimpse of Legolas setting Amy down gently on her feet. The messy-haired redhead's eyes were barely open, and she leaned against Legolas, mumbling indistinctly. Lizzie was still clinging to Boromir, and Sam felt rather uncomfortable. Her friends were all pairing up, but what about her? She scratched her ear and glanced upwards, and forgot all romantic interests whatsoever.
The woman before them was beautiful. She was beyond beautiful, more gorgeous and alluring than any woman Sam had ever seen. Golden curls tumbled, unbound, around her shoulders, and striking eyes of clearest cobalt swept over the ragged Fellowship. Her eyes were the exact color of pools in some tropical paradise, the very picture of peace and serenity. A white dress curved around her slender body elegantly, enveloping her in long sleeves and a wide neckline. Sam had never had any inclination to wear a dress - none whatsoever - but the dress and the woman were so beautiful she felt very self conscious. Surreptitiously, she rubbed at the dried blood on her nose and tried to look inconspicuous. A man beside her, tall and graceful, with dark gray hair that fell to his shoulders, held her hand gently. His flashing blue eyes glanced at each member of the Fellowship, finally alighting on Sam with a queer gaze that made her fidget. "Eleven stand before me, and yet nine set out from Rivendell. Tell me, who are these young women who stand amid your company?"
"These are young travelers we found wandering in the wilderness," Aragorn spoke up. "Their names are Amy Ricker, Samantha Browning, and Elizabeth McKenzie. They have suffered much and been through many toils to reach your fair city."
Sam felt the most curious sensation sweep over her as she stared at the blonde woman. Their eyes connected for the barest moment, but she felt an alien presence inside her brain. Samantha, I have waited long for you to arrive. Much rests on your shoulders, you must stay strong for your friends. Sam almost thought, "What do you mean by that, lady?" but thought better of it at the last minute.
Pins and needled flooded Amy's system, and she stiffened involuntarily against Legolas's hard chest. Her green eyes flickered open, and they met with the blonde woman's. Her jaw went slack as she took in the amazing beauty, the flawless skin, and those deep, penetrating eyes. A weird feeling, almost as though a separate set of thoughts had entered her mind, took over. Amy, you must stand strong. Your hesitation will be your downfall and your jubilation. You have more courage than you think.
Lizzie resisted her mind invasion, mostly because she remembered the scene from the movie. But Galadriel's thoughts flowed over her like a pull of warm water. Elizabeth, you must not take your friendship lightly. Your relationships with Samantha and Boromir are much more serious than you think.
Each of the three girls wondered privately what it had meant.
09
Amy felt something cool and damp patting her forehead, a warm hand on her inner wrist, another resting on her hip. There was a slight ripping noise, and she felt cold air brush against her ribs, nipping the shallow wounds that decorated her stomach. Involuntarily she shifted and whimpered a little, unwilling to open her eyes. A sweet word, firm but caring, spoken in a language that sounded almost musical. More ripping noises, and soon she shivered, her belly and chest exposed to the brisk night air. One eye cracked open, and she spotted a young woman kneeling at her waist, the tattered, soiled, stained orange tee shirt that Amy had donned so long ago lay in tatters at her feet. A roll of clean white strips, faded with age but still serviceable, were being wrapped around her torso and lower legs. "Lay still," the elleth said softly. "Your wounds are not serious, but you need rest. Sleep now."
Amy closed her bloodshot eyes once more and fell asleep, her body moving to sleep's natural rhythm. Dreams clouded her mind, and she dreamed of monsters and trolls and cats and handsome blonde elves. When she awoke, hours later, she remembered none of them.