SO. It has been AGES since I last updated. And as per usual my only excuse is LIFE. :) This isn't a very long chapter, and it is mostly filler and (of course) some fluffy Aragorn/Anariel feeling-development. I had planned to make it through Caradhras with this chapter but that would probably mean another week until an update and I decided to be kinder than that.

And so, as always, enjoy and please review!

Disclaimer: Anariel is mine. I'm letting her play in Tolkien's genius.

Chapter Ten

Anariel wondered if she would ever be warm again. She shivered and tugged her cloak about her more tightly. The weather had been unforgiving and most nights Gandalf had deemed it unwise to light a fire. The only part of her that was anywhere near to being warm was her feet which most days seemed ablaze from blisters and sores. But she tried hard not to let her discomfort show, knowing that the others were in just as bad shape. Still, Lord Aragorn had given her a salve made of athelas the other night. He was perceptive and always seemed to appear at her side when she was most exhausted, his keen grey eyes alert to her every stumble or near-fall, his hands quick to grasp her elbow to help her over rough patches, though he was just as quick to let go again and train his eyes on the path ahead of them.

They had been a fortnight on the road. The weather brightened slightly – the clouds lifted and a thin, wan sunlight shone down on their band. They entered the old elvish land of Hollin and Anariel's heart lightened. She could still feel the love of the elves flowing through the land, however faintly.

"Do you feel it, Lad?" she asked softly, knowing that he would hear her from his place ahead of her. The flaxen-haired elf turned slightly and gave her a small, sad smile.

"Aye. I feel it. Bittersweet joy – as all joy has been for many years."

"The stones lament their departure…" Anariel let her voice trail off wistfully.

"But still, this land is better for their work here," the voice caught her off guard. Clear grey eyes surveyed her thoughtfully. "It is worth contemplating – though what was is now lost, is it not better than if it had never been?"

Anariel's breath caught. She could not help but feel that these words could be applied to many things in her own life…

"We make for the Dimrill Dale, Pippin," Gandalf's voice broke into her thoughts. "Through the pass of Caradhras."

Anariel's gaze was pulled away from the sharp eyes of Lord Aragorn and she thought on Gandalf's words. The pass of Caradhras seemed a wise endeavor. If only the weather held and did not conspire against them.

Aragorn was on the watch. Anariel could not but help let her eyes wander to him – still and silent and grey, sitting on the ridge above their little camp. The soft voices of the hobbits barely reached her ears. Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir were already asleep, despite the growing dawn. Gandalf sat in deep contemplation, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"Here, I thought you may be hungry." She caught her breath from climbing the ridge and sat next to him, handing over the scant meal. He smiled at her, a light sparking in his eyes. She felt her stomach leap but then twist suddenly as his smile turned to a frown.

"Crebain!" he hissed and suddenly grabbed her hand, pulling her into the shade of a large holly-bush. Anariel's heart was beating quickly as she too caught sight of what looked like a fast-moving bit of black cloud. It grew steadily closer. Aragorn swore softly under his breath and yanked the edge of his cloak up, flinging it over Anariel's head as he tugged her close to his chest. She trembled slightly. Her head was tucked tightly against his chest, the cloak blocking out all light. She could hear his heart beating a frantic rhythm against her cheek and his smell… it enveloped her, surrounding her in both a comforting and frighteningly wild warmth.

She calmed from the initial surprise and could hear the flapping and crying of the crows surrounding their hiding place. Where had they come from? Anariel's first thought was Sauron, of course, but even his arm had not grown so long. The Gap of Rohan... her mind whispered. Saruman. She shuddered. Traitors sickened her, more so even than the pure evil of the Dark Lord. She was thankful for Lord Aragorn's quick thinking – her hair would have surely given them away despite their hidden spot.

The moment passed nearly before Anariel's mind could even begin to move on to how safe and warm she felt, held by him, surrounded by him. Silence fell and he pulled the cloak off her head, gently pushing her upright. If she didn't know any better, she would almost think that his face was slightly flushed.

"I apologize, Anariel. But they most surely would have spotted your vivid hair…"

"Nay. Don't apologize! I understand your actions perfectly. The thought didn't even cross my mind. Curse this red hair!"

A gentle smile crept over Aragorn's face.

"Now it is I who must stay your words. Do not curse beauty or despise a gift lovingly bestowed." As he said this, his hand reached out to capture a russet curl between his fingers. Anariel's heart was beating rapidly once more and she could feel a flaming blush creep up her neck. She couldn't look away from his starlit gaze… but the moment was broken as Aragorn tore his eyes from hers and quickly dropped his hand. She thought she heard him sigh.

"We should go warn the others," he said, standing and offering a hand. "It is not safe to linger here any longer."

Anariel nodded absently, taking his hand to stand also and brushing invisible leaves from her breeches. What was that? It couldn't be what she thought, what she wished. It was too soon along their journey. She knew how she was beginning to feel. She could no longer deny it… if she had ever truly denied it. She knew that she was on a slippery path, one that could only lead one direction: into a love deep and fathomless with a man who was so far above her and destined for a greatness to which she could never hope to aspire. There were so many things at risk, not the least of which was her heart.

When the others were roused and informed of the new developments, the result was not a cheery one. They would have to cease lighting fires altogether and leave most of their travel to the nighttime hours. No heat or warm food concerned the hobbits and Anariel only slightly less. But she could tell that something deeper was bothering the Grey Wizard. He kept glancing to the sky with a scowl, shaking his head. He and Aragorn were deep in conversation and were it not for their equal nobility and wisdom, she would almost say that they were arguing. But she returned her gaze to the land below the ridge where she sat, keeping watch. All was silent, as it had been before the crows came. But the silence offered little comfort and she could not help but long for the cover of darkness, when they might be on their way once more.

Dusk deepened and once more saw the Fellowship, footsore but more rested, trudging along the harsh terrain. So many times Anariel was tempted to plop down and just use her gift to heal her blistered, aching feet. But she knew that she didn't really have the energy reserves to spare. Nor the time. The night passed in a chilled blur of grey stone and scrub-brush. She vaguely remembered Gimli saving her from another stumble in the dark…

Someone waits for me
Beyond the present storms that blow
Waiting patiently
No secrets held in an open heart
A spirit that soars over mountains
Somewhere along the road
Someone waits for me.*

A great unease was upon him. It weighted on his heart like a blacksmith's anvil. And yet, no matter how he told himself that it was worry over their journey, he knew there was much more to it than that.

The air was getting colder as they began to climb. It hit his face like a slap of icy water, but he had never felt warmer. He knew why. He was trying not to think of it – of how her small, warm form fit so perfectly next to his; how her hair smelled like sunshine and sea breezes and pine needles; how she trembled gently in his arms; how soft her hair felt and how his heart had raced not from fear of discovery but from the mere proximity of her deep blue eyes. He was in danger – terrible danger. Danger of falling. But how could he save himself from it if, deep down where he had to be honest with himself, he knew that he really didn't want to save himself?

Aragorn lifted his eyes to the bright head, gently lit by moonlight, bent in front of him. He could imagine her blazing blue eyes flickering over the rocky path beneath their feet and the little ridge between her eyes that formed when she was concentrating… he couldn't help the ghost of a smile that flitted across his face. She was … kind. There was no other word for it. She cared deeply for the suffering of others and even in the midst of her own discomfort, which was obvious to his keen eyes, she offered cheeriness and sunshine to their otherwise dreary company.

But the knot of fear in his stomach – he had sworn to himself that he would protect her. And he would. But as their journey continued, shadows grew on his mind. He knew that Gandalf doubted the pass of Caradhras would prove a successful route, and as the weather grew fiercer Aragorn was more and more tempted to agree with him. But the alternative… even he shuddered deep within his soul at the thought. Could he keep his promises? He had made so many, so many important ones, ones that could hold the fate of Middle Earth in their grasp. They had a hierarchy, an order – he knew that. And that was what scared him. She had to come second. The fate of the Fellowship and more importantly their mission was paramount, of the utmost importance.

And for the first time in his life, Aragorn feared that his duty may lead him to abandon his heart. And it was the greatest fear he had yet known.

Somehow a guiding light
Always shows the way
To those who lose their way by night
Searching for the day
A day away from happiness
Tomorrow will bring a new sunrise
Somewhere along the road
Someone waits for me.*

*Song lyrics from Somewhere Along the Road by Emily Smith

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