A/N: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You all are wonderful people if you've stuck around.
Good news: it's summer, yay! Bad news: I got a job, oops. So no promises for much free time to dedicate to this.

I am also even more sorry for this eeny weeny filler chapter. (I'M SORRY. I AM SO SORRY. I KNOW I SAID I WAS GOING TO PUT A WHOLE CHAPTER OR TWO IN BEFORE I START THE TWO TOWERS PLOT LINE BUT IT JUST DIDN'T HAPPEN. I TRIED.)

"It's different without the hobbits here," Miraleth remarked when they made camp the second night without them. Rather than crossing the river and continuing east, as they would've if Mordor was still their destination, the four had run south, through the plains of Men. Rohan, Aragorn said. On the plains, there weren't many hiding places to make camp, like on the shore of the Anduin. So they took their chances making a small camp underneath some gargantuan of a rock—if it could be called camp, that is. A master dwarf, two elves, and one of the Dúnedain? Aragorn saw no reason to stop for anything they did not absolutely need—after all, the Uruk-hai they tracked did not. So they had run well into the night, hours after the sun went down, stopping only briefly at a small stream to refill their waterskins. It was only at Gimli's absolute demand that they make a fire and hunt down something to cook. And now they had gotten into the familiar habit of allowing a small fire to crackle and pop every couple of nights. Miraleth and Gimli sat before it, while Legolas and Aragorn stood a little ways off, standing guard. "It's quieter," she continued.

"And we're back with Aragorn's rabbit stew," Gimli grumbled in disdain, swishing around the dismal contents of his small bowl.

"Beggars can't be choosers, my friend," Aragorn called back over his shoulder.

Gimli grumbled some choice words under his breath before Aragorn turned and started back towards the fire. "We should get some sleep if we want to be back on the road at dawn." Three hours of sleep, that was what they had agreed on.

"I'll take first shift," Legolas volunteered, leaning down to pick up his bow and strap on his daggers.

Aragorn nodded and dumped a bowl of watery stew onto the fire, extinguishing it with a hiss. "I'll stand guard after Legolas. By then it should be dawn."

Miraleth wordlessly retreated to where she had lain out Elrohir's cloak on the ground, wrapping it around herself to guard against the chilliness of the night. Soon, the small campsite was enveloped in silence and darkness. There was another thing—every night the hobbits all had to say goodnight to each of them, and would not sleep until all seven other members repaid the gesture in kind. Even then after sleep had taken them, Merry snored slightly and Pippin kicked his legs. Sam murmured nonsense about gardening and cooking, and Frodo rolled about.

All trained warriors, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli did not have any of these noisy little habits.

There had never been true silence until now.

Legolas could not remember ever having been to Rohan before; maybe he had once. The landscape itself didn't present the most memorable setting. Miles and miles of plains and hills, for as far as the eye could see. Miraleth hadn't been quite sure what to make of it ("When are we going to see a damned tree?"), and Aragorn laughed because they were flat-out running for over 20 hours a day and there she was complaining about the landscape. How just like Miraleth.

Miraleth. Miraleth, Miraleth.

Legolas turned and stole a glance at the sleeping elleth. She lay on her side, curled up in her brother's cloak, a stray curl fluttering about her face with each breath. The dagger he'd given to her upon leaving Rivendell was clenched in her hand, tucked into her chest. As he watched her, her lips parted and she rolled over onto her other side, her eyelids fluttering briefly. She was dreaming.

"Stop staring at her, lad, it's strange."

Legolas started at the gruff voice, and a hand flew to his dagger as he straightened up. But it was only Gimli, leaning back against the rock he had chosen to sleep by. Legolas gave the dwarf a strange look. "Stop staring at who?"

"At Miraleth."

"I'm not staring at Miraleth."

"Really? That's an awful lot what it looked like."

"Perhaps you should redefine your idea of staring."

"I think my idea of staring is just fine, thank you very much."

"Why do you not sleep?" Legolas asked after a slight pause instead of spitting out another rebuke.

Gimli shrugged and reached down to collect his pipe from the pack that lay at his feet. He packed it with a little bit of tobacco and used an ember from the fire to set them smoldering. He took a deep drag, the smoke spilling from his lips in fine wisps of gray. "I'm not one for sleeping under the open sky. Dwarvenkind were made to sleep in the earth, with the rock and mineral of the soil." Another drag. "All this open space makes me nervous," he complained. "Makes Miraleth nervous too; after what happened with the Uruk-hai, poor lass is half-afraid Sauron will send his Nazgûl after her. And out here on the plains, there isn't much of any place to hide from their winged steeds."

Legolas stole another glance behind him at Miraleth, his demeanor darkening. "I should've taken her back to Imladris when I had the chance."

"Eh." Gimli gave him a scrutinizing stare. "Just out of curiosity, exactly how far gone are you for the she-elf?"

"How far am I...gone...?" He shook his head, giving Gimli a strange glance. "I do not..."

Gimli rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue at Legolas' naiveté. "Love. You know, lad. How in love with her are you?"

Legolas stiffened. Gimli couldn't see it in the dark, but he could nearly hear the blood rushing to the elf's face. "Miraleth is my dearest friend."

"And yet you would gladly lay your life down for her."

"Of course I would." Legolas bristled. "Would you not do the same for one of your brethren?"

Gimli scoffed. "I'd shove an axe in their hands and tell them to keep me alive!"

Legolas ignored him. "Lady Miraleth is nobility among our kind. Many would consider it an honor to die for her."

"Yes, yes, but you'd do it simply to protect her."

"If that's what it takes." Legolas set his jaw. "I'd do anything."

"Aye," Gimli sighed and stuffed another bit of leaf into his pipe. "That's called love, laddie."

Legolas ignored his stubborn friend and turned back to look out over the rolling plains. For all the monotony of the landscape, the night was cool and clear and the moonlight washed over the image before them like a soothing water. Stars twinkled overhead like diamonds. "I love Miraleth like she is my own blood," Legolas began. "She is family."

"What kind of family?" Gimli pursued relentlessly. "My father called my mother family but they made love when they went to their bed and often kissed instead of speaking." He scoffed. "How many siblings can you say do that? Not many, I'd hope."

Legolas rolled his eyes away from Gimli. "Not that kind of family. I would compare her to a sister, and nothing more."

"So you would've been fine with her marrying the Lórien elf? Happy, even?"

Legolas' teeth ground together. "If marrying Haldir would have made Miraleth happy, I would have been just as much so. They would have been a good match," He added, his voice strained.

Gimli snorted. "Whatever you say, lad."

"It's true. Haldir is my friend as well, I would have been happy for the both of them."

"You hate him for what he did to her."

Legolas shifted. "He broke their arrangement."

"Broke Miraleth's poor heart, you mean." Gimli peered at Legolas from under his brows. "And there's no just forgiving that, is there?"

Legolas didn't answer. "Go back to sleep, Gimli."

After another glance at the blonde elf, he did.

"Miraleth! Miraleth!" Rough hands grasped her by the shoulders and shook her awake, and she shot up, clutching one of her blades to her chest. She was breathing hard and a light sheen of sweat covered her forehead. It took some few seconds for her eyes to clear and recognize her surroundings but when they did, she caught Aragorn's gaze, mere inches away. His hands still held her shoulders and his brow was furrowed.

She forced her breathing to slow when she realized that they were only on the plains of Rohan—she and Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli—safe and half-asleep in their small campsite. "What time is it?"

"Almost dawn," Legolas answered from behind Aragorn. He was frowning. "Are you alright?"

Aragorn opted for a more straightforward method. "What did you See?"

"I…I…what?" She shook her head and slipped out of Aragorn's grasp to reach for her bow. She slipped it over her back. "Nothing, I saw nothing."

"You were sweating and shaking like a babe with a fever, lass, it didn't look like nothing."

She stared at Gimli. "Was I?" There had been…Saruman, yes, she remembered now. And she had been bound to a chair in his White Tower. But…it not been her Sight. "No." She shook her head again. "No, it was just a dream." She picked herself up from the ground and shook out Elrohir's cloak that she had been sleeping on. She busied herself with strapping her blades to her belt while Aragorn and Gimli put out the smoldering embers in their small fire.

Legolas remained, though. "What did you dream about?"

Miraleth glanced at him before reaching down to slip a dagger into her boot. She gave a noncommittal shrug. "I do not remember."

Legolas smiled ruefully. "You are lying."

She looked at him again, searching his honest face. She had dreamed of being bound in Saruman's White Tower. Aragorn and Gimli had appeared before her, first alive, and then as bloody pulps on the pristine tile, with maggots where eyes had been and bloody stumps where fingers had been. The White Wizard had laughed when she screamed, and torn Gimli's beard from his face. And then it had been Legolas, and Elladan and Elrohir, and her little Hobbits, and Arwen, lovely, beautiful, Arwen. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. And then without any respite or mercy, she was in the ashy wasteland of Mordor, with the Nazgûl and their dragon-steeds tearing the flesh from her very bones.

"I dreamed about the end," Miraleth murmured, and stalked away to help Aragorn and Gimli. She could feel Legolas' doubtful stare as she left.

A/N: I KNOW I'M NOT IN ANY POSITION TO ASK FOR ANYTHING FROM ANY OF YOU BUT I WILL TOTALLY TAKE ANY AND ALL REVIEWS AND LOVE THEM.