A/N: Okay, I don't normally do this…But this chapter has a Music Track. When you get to the gray line (I call them separators), go to YouTube and find "I'll Make A Man Out Of You", from Mulan. It's a Disney song, but I think it suits this chapter very well. :D

Oh yeah… REVIW, and tell me what you think of Amy/Legolas and Sam/Haldir! And Lizzie, if you like her. (I don't.)

A shaft of sunlight pierced through the stained glass window, casting fabulous colors dancing across the thin straw cot. The tangle of red hair stirred feebly, curls rustling and blankets moving, and then one pale green eye opened halfway. Images slid in and out of each other, and she coughed groggily. The cough ripped up her throat and made her moan, sinking back into the piles of pillows which the elves had so thoughtfully supplied. Her skin no longer felt red and swollen, but her nose was running and her head was pounding. Tiredly, she buried her head under a pillow and groaned. This was a terrible way to wake up. In the corner of the room, she heard something stirring, and she froze. Too many encounters with Orcs had wearied her, made her coarser and more frightened. But the refreshing scent of pine needles and mossy forests greeted her nose, and she poked her tousled head out sleepily. Legolas was lounging on a small stool, his weapons at his side. His cerulean eyes were tired, but happy, and he gave her a one-sided grin. "Good morning, small one," he said softly. Amy buried her head underneath the pillow again with a moan. "Come now, is that any way to greet this beautiful morning?"

"Says who," Amy croaked, her throat very dry. "It's too early." She rolled over on her back but kept her eyes closed, rumpling her hair through her hands as she stretched. Legolas slid a dipper into the water crock near the door and brought the ladle to her lips. Eagerly, she swallowed the tepid water and felt slightly better. At least it didn't feel like she had a cat clawing at her throat. "Where's Sam and Lizzie?" she asked, wanting to see a familiar face. Legolas looked up, worry etched on his brow.

"Samantha has not been seen since last night. She departed from here after staying near you nearly all afternoon and well into the night. Lady Galadriel says she was greatly disturbed by images she saw in Galadriel's mirror." Legolas answered. Amy sat up, alarmed.

"She's gone? What mirror? Where is she?" Amy cried, trying to swing her legs out of bed. Before her feet could touch the floor, Legolas had stood up and tucked the sheets firmly back into the pallet. Amy wriggled, trying to escape her bonds of linen.

"You need your rest. Samantha will be found, I am sure of it. There is no need to upset yourself over trivial matters. As for the mirror, I am told it is a legendary mirror bequeathed with magic. Men have looked into the mirror and seen their futures, and others have seen prophecies. I am not sure what Samantha saw when she looked in the mirror, but it must have been quite shocking." Legolas said, keeping Amy pinned to the bed with one of his hands. A detached part of Amy's mind marveled at how large his hand was; calloused, strong, muscled. But her mind was on other matters, namely, her friends.

"We have to go look for her! Sam could be anywhere!" Amy said, wriggling helplessly. Whatever Sam had seen in that mirror had scared her, and it took a lot to scare Sam. Amy felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. What if Sam had looked in the mirror and seen her own death? Gandalf's death and nearly being killed in Moria had been as close to death as Amy wanted to allow; she had flirted with the edge, and now she wanted to backpedal as quickly as she could away from the crater.

Legolas opened his mouth to argue, when the door flew open. Sam burst in, her shaggy brown hair tousled and messy - as usual - and dressed in new clothes. She had that relaxed grin on her face that Amy knew very well; it was the mask Sam always assumed whenever Amy asked about her mother. She was hiding something, trying to make it appear as though she had everything in control. Sam bounded over to the bed and landed on her knees, skidding the last few inches. "Hey, you're awake!" Sam said, sounding pleased, as if she had snapped her fingers and Amy had awoken. Sam threw a mistrustful glance at Legolas. "I told you to get me when she woke up."

"I would have, if you had been anywhere to be found." Legolas snapped. "Aragorn and Boromir have been searching since dawn. You have worried the Hobbits sick, they thought you had been eaten by some kind of wild animal. Where have you been half the night?"

"I told you, I went exploring," Sam said, irked beyond belief that his prissy elf was trying to chide her. "And don't scold me, Princey-boy. I went around in the meadows and bumped into Galadriel. We visited for a bit, and then I went to the sparring grounds. There wasn't anyone there, so I went to sleep."

"You slept on the training grounds?" Amy asked hoarsely, settling back into the pillows. "Were you able to train?" Now that Sam was here, Amy would have to wait until Legolas left. Once that happened, she was pretty sure she could get Sam to tell her what she had seen in the mirror.

"No, silly," Sam said. "There wasn't anyone there. So I slept on one of the benches. The stars here are beautiful. How about you, how was your rest? Do you want something to eat?"

"I slept okay," Amy answered. Then she turned to Legolas. "But I am kinda hungry. Could you go get me something to eat?" Legolas nodded once and departed, making no noise on the polished hardwood floors. Amy waited a few seconds until she was sure he wasn't listening, and then began. "So...what else did you do last night?"

Sam's eyes narrowed. "I told you what I did," she said slowly. "Why?" Amy shrugged nonchalantly, pulling the covers up to her chin.

"Oh, nothing. Just curious, that's all. What did you and Galadriel talk about?" Amy asked trying to seem casual. Sam knew her too well, though, and a frown slashed across her lips.

"Nothing. We didn't talk much." Sam said brusquely. "I'm going to the training grounds to train. Legolas should be back soon with your food."

Amy caught Sam's sleeve as she tried to leave. "Please, Sam, what did you see?" Amy pleaded. "Was it awful?"

"I saw you dying!" Sam barked, brown eyes glittering angrily. "I saw me fighting alone, and..." She couldn't do it. Couldn't voice the betrayal of Lizzie, couldn't tell Amy that their best friend was going to go against them. So instead she turned away and yanked her sleeve out of Amy's hand. "Go back to sleep." Was all Sam said.

And she left.

09

The training grounds were a large, flat oval of packed dirt. Trees hemmed them in, and in the very center was a low stone slab. A thick carpet of grass lined the arena, and several benches were placed sporadically around it in a jagged circle. Several young elleths were sitting prettily on the benches, cooing delights for the sparring soldiers to hear. Sam growled internally at the breathtaking beauty of the elleths, and her hand dropped to her side, unconsciously looking for her broken axe. Girls like that always irked her, and Sam had to take several deep breaths in order to restrain herself from charging over there and slapping some sense into their porcelain faces. Instead, she turned her attention to the arena, where at least a dozen ellons were sparring heatedly. There was a bark of a command in Elvish, something Sam didn't understand, and immediately the sparring couples broke apart and lined up carefully. Sam's eyes slitted when she recognized Haldir, his long silver hair plaited in traditional Elvish warrior braids that pulled the top half of his hair away from his face. He continued issuing orders in Elvish, the sweet language dipping and swelling over vowels and words, but there was an undeniable harsh bite to his words. He appeared to be a drill sergeant issuing orders. Sam stepped onto the field, and the crunch of the sand alerted Haldir and the rest of his men. He turned around, light armor covering his broad chest, his sword sheathed at his side. His cold silver eyes held mild surprise and contempt, and Sam felt anger bubbling in her.

"The benches are over there," he said pointedly, jerking his chin towards where the elleths were sitting. Sam's lips tightened, and she clenched her fists. Her feet were a shoulder width apart.

"I'm not here to sit," she snapped. "I'm here to fight. I want to train. Got a problem with that, buster?"

Haldir's eyebrows raised. "Stay to the edges," he warned, a frosty note in his voice. "I am training my recruits. You may wait for your sparring partner on the benches." He turned away from her, and Sam had to raise her voice and capture the attention of the entire arena to get his attention.

"You don't get it!" she growled. "I want to spar with you. I don't have a sparring partner." Haldir wheeled around and strode over to her. As he approached, Sam realized with something like cool apprehension that he was very tall, very broad, and very handsome.

"I am training my soldiers," he said. "You are a guest of Lothlorien, and a woman. If you wish, you may observe. That is all."

"Then think of it as a personal favor," Sam retorted. "I'm either going to march over there and start smacking some major Elvish butt or you're going to train me. And if you don't think that a woman can kick your sorry, pretty-boy ass, then you got another thing coming, buddy."

Haldir looked appalled, then furious, as the willowy brunette dared to use such a disrespectful tone. If she had been one of his men, he would have struck her across the jaw and given her a hideous torture to endure, such as sparring with him personally. But she wasn't one of his men, which was the exact reason he couldn't allow her to spar with them. His jaw worked furiously. "Fine," he spat, as though the words tasted bitter. "You will spar with me. Weapons are at the northern end of the field."

Sam bounded off, exhilaration singing through her veins that she had been allowed to fight. The weapons rack was rather flimsy considering it was supporting gigantic weapons, and she browsed for the briefest moment before finding what she wanted. Hefting the weapons in her hands, she tossed them several times, gauging the weight, and then sliced through the air experimentally. Buckling the sheaths onto her belt and sheathing the twin poniards, she went back over to the ellons who were all gaping at her. Haldir raised his eyebrows at her unusual choice, and then a smirk settled over his face. He would make an example of her for his men, to make his men fear him. Woman or not, he did not tolerate the slightest disrespect. "Samantha," he purred. "Approach me and assume a defensive position."

She had never had any 'official' training, but she had watched for hours with a wounded arm, watched and studied her friends learning to spar. So she copied Boromir's stance, the one he used most often, and twirled her poniards. Haldir smirked. He circled her several times, and then he kicked her leg to the left slightly, adjusting her position. She locked her jaw. "Fair enough," he said, reluctantly bestowing his approval. He stood opposite her and unsheathed his sword. "And now, defend yourself."

He struck with no warning, his blade cutting through the air with a slight whistling noise. Sam crossed her blades, blocking the blow, and the impact send shockwaves jutting through her skeletal system. She twisted her knives, unlocking them from the vice grip she had used to keep his blade from reaching her neck, and advanced a single step. He feinted to the left, then slashed downwards from the right, and again it took all she could do just to parry him. Pain lanced up her arms as she ached from holding the weapons, but she snarled and pressed forward. She had an audience now, and the elleths on the benches had stopped cooing and started paying attention. Their blades battered each others, Haldir always on the offensive and Sam always on the defensive. It was taking every shred of energy to just stop his blows before they reached her skin, and she had yet to make a single offensive move of her own. Haldir had a smirk on his face.

He was toying with her.

Unexpectedly, she allowed a blow to fall on her ribs. It winded her, and she doubled over. Haldir's instincts kicked in, and he closed the gap between them, slight concern in his eyes. Sam's face was a mask of pain...until he was within striking distance. She rammed a knee in the fork of his legs, causing him to double over himself, and pounced on him knees first. She pinned him to the ground, poinards at his throat, face a snarl. Haldir's face was still white. That was the lowest, cheapest, nastiest trick in the book, and it had been used on him by a woman! He flipped the two of them over, keeping her in place with an elbow, and languidly unearthed a boot blade, then pressed it against her throat. There was a long, frozen second, as Sam's chest heaved and her eyes glittered madly. Haldir examined her eyes closely; they were dark brown orbs of deepest chocolate, alive and dancing with rage and shame. He had never seen such eyes.

He let her up, giving her a hand - which she refused. She dusted herself off, a flame of a blush skimming her cheeks. She had been bested. She had lost. And then, cracking over the field, was applause. The dozen ellons and the handful of elleths were applauding her! She looked up, eyes narrowing with suspicion, and then relaxed. Haldir raised a hand, and utter silence reigned. "Unorthodox." was his single-word review of Sam's spar. He turned from his dismissively, and began speaking Elvish to his men.

A burn of anger simmered in her chest. She had just had a grueling spar with him, and it was nothing more than a blip in her day. Sheathing her poniards, she bent down and picked up a rock. It was a good-sized rock, about the size of her palm, and she flung it with all her might at Haldir. It struck him between the shoulders, and an involuntary yelp of surprise tore from his lips. He spun around, silver eyes burning. "What -" he began, but he got no further.

"Listen up, pretty boy," Sam barked, her words echoing around the sparring grounds. "You can insult me all you want; I can take that. But don't you ever, ever, dismiss me! Watch your back, asshole!" She spun around and surged off, running away from her problems for the second time in as many days.

There was a long silence, and then one of the young ellons broke it. "She's in love with you," he remarked. Haldir turned to him, incredulity written on his features.

"Do you not have ears? She just threatened to kill me!" he said. The young ellon shrugged.

"It is some women's way of bestowing affection. My Estella threatens to kill me every morning." the ellon offered. Haldir shook his head disgustedly.

He would never understand some women.