A Sharp Tongue

When we left Helm's Deep behind, only one day had passed. We had agreed to travel to Esgaroth first. A precondition for all further plans was that we would find the third part of the stone. If we did not, we would return to Minas Tirith for the winter and regroup. Actually, that was just another way of saying that we were putting all our eggs in one basket, and if it didn't work out, we would have the whole winter to think about what had gone wrong.

Or rather, I would then have time to think about it. True, I knew it was important to Legolas to investigate my appearance in Middle Earth because he believed it was related to the creatures in the Greenwood and ultimately to the shadow he and many other elves thought they had noticed. But if we didn't find the third piece of stone, that theory was off the table for now. At least until we discovered a new clue. And therefore I hoped that Esgaroth would not be a disappointment. That the gods of fate would be kind to me and that I would find the third part of the stone there - because only then a further journey to Thal would be reasonable, and with it a search for the magical stones, as Legolas had suggested.

"You must watch your elbow, Aspen." The elf snapped me out of my thoughts and I refocused on the makeshift target dangling from a branch some distance away. "Your power when shooting must come from your back."

He had probably said that twenty times by now, and each time I made the same mistake. Shortly after we left Helm's Deep, Gimli had come up with the idea of teaching me how to fight. From Helm's Deep we would travel via Lothlorien to Greenwood. From there, we would continue along the Elvish Road to Esgaroth. These lands were unsafe, still. And even though I knew how to defend myself with two small daggers, it was not enough. I had realized that.

It had quickly become clear that an axe was too heavy and, moreover, not very suitable as a short-range weapon for a beginner like me. The same was true for swords. So we had turned to archery, which I had tried in my time years ago. Only back then it hadn't been about hitting moving targets, always with the ulterior thought that I could be killed at any moment.

"Maybe this weapon wasn't the right choice after all," I said, lowering the bow.

"You shouldn't give up so easily."

"I'm not giving up," I hissed, angry with myself, "I'm redisposing."

He smirked. "You are showing some good approaches. And you're hitting the target."

"Most of the time, at least."

"It takes time and practice. You can't get this to perfection in a few weeks, but you can improve to the point where you can defend yourself and your life if Gimli and I don't get to you in time."

I raised the bow again, this time concentrating determinedly on my back muscles. The elf was right, after all: it was easier to shoot if I tensed them and let the power flow through them. Holding the arrow, aiming, and finally firing it took a certain amount of time, and that was easier to overcome if I didn't attempt to keep the bowstring taut only with my upper arms.

With a humming sound, the arrow headed for the target - and, of course, didn't hit the center. But I didn't expect it to. I had mastered immovable targets relatively quickly, but which orc would stop to get shot?

"Enough for today," Legolas said, and I gave him the bow back that he had bought for me in Helm's Deep before we left. I had tried his once for fun, but the pulling power had been way too strong for me. No surprise there. I wasn't a warrior - like him.

With a quick gesture, I retied my hair and then sat down next to the fire, where Gimli was already comfortably smoking his pipe. Traveling life in Middle Earth was so different from what I had previously known. It was like a camping trip, only longer, more troublesome, and filled with dangers that went far beyond bears or other wild animals. In fact, it was almost a miracle that we hadn't been attacked yet.

From my luggage I pulled out some bread crust and cheese, cut off a slice of both and offered Gimli a piece, who shook his head. "I already ate, thank you, lass."

It was evening, soon the sun would set. We were about a two days' ride from the border of Lothlorien, where we would replenish our supplies and then continue towards the Greenwood. I knew that this was Legolas' home - he had told me so himself. All the more strange was his reluctance to talk about it: he had not said a word and I was not sure if it was a good idea to bring it up. We had just grown closer again, and the evenings we spent together with Gimli by the fire were finally no longer characterized by tense looks and terse conversations. I didn't want to ruin that.

So I kept my mouth shut and concentrated on shooting arrows where they should be landing. Sometimes with more, sometimes with less success. He would say something about it eventually. And even if he didn't, that was fine with me.

The dwarf rolled out his sleeping mat and I did the same. The fire had burned down enough by now that it would keep us warm for the night, but wasn't too hot to lie right next to it. Legolas took over the watch - something he had made a habit of doing since we had left Helm's Deep.

It wasn't long before Gimli's bloodcurdling snores rang out every few seconds. I was sure that any orc would think twice about attacking us with that kind of background noise. And as exhausted as I usually was, which despite all made me fall asleep rather quickly - today there were too many questions buzzing through my head, to which I urgently needed an answer.

So I lay there for a while with my eyes open, watching the starry sky, which was as clear as ever. Then I got up and left the warming circle of the fire.

Legolas was sitting on a stone not far from our camp. He heard me coming long before I even stopped to stand beside him. "I do not blame you for not being able to sleep."

"It's not that," I said.

"Did I ask too little of you in training?" His tone was mocking, but I knew he was just teasing me.

"I'm dead tired."

"But?"

"Don't you know that feeling? Your body wants nothing more than rest, but your mind won't give it a break?"

The elf took his gaze from the surrounding area. "No," he said, "but that doesn't surprise me."

I climbed onto the stone and sat down beside him. "Don't tell me that's the reason you've taken every night shift so far: You don't sleep."

"Oh, yes, I do, of course. I sleep." He plucked a snail from the stone that had slid toward his shoe and set it down beside him. "But I require much less rest than you or Gimli."

So that was another thing that distinguished elves from humans: not only were they physically superior to us, but they apparently needed less or no time to process their experiences in sleep. How much time that would save... actually, it was unfair that immortals, of all people, got that bonus on top. I leaned back. "Tell me about Middle Earth," I said suddenly. "I know your knowledge of history is vast. I would like to learn more about this world than what I remember about it from my own time."

And so Legolas did. He started at the First Age, told of Morgoth, Beren and Luthien, the birth of Lord Elrond and his brother. Until now I had not realized that Elrond had had a brother named Elros, and I was even more surprised that he, unlike the Lord of Rivendell, had chosen mortality. This had been possible for him only because he was a half-elf, as Legolas pointed out. Just like Arwen, it was open to half-elves to choose their fate, "for mortality was given by Eru as a gift to men," he concluded, and I raised an eyebrow. "A gift, yes?"

He nodded. "I suppose you have your own unique point of view on that, too?" Again, I heard the mockery in his voice.

"Being asked would have been nice," I replied with a shrug. "But it's the one thing you ask for, the other thing you get."

"If you had to make a choice: Would you choose immortality?"

I had to think about that for a moment. Finally, I said, "No. I wouldn't."

He raised an eyebrow. "So it is a gift after all."

"However, I would like to turn off some of the things that come with it."

"That being?"

I pulled the too-thin cloak tighter around my shoulders. "Diseases. Hunger. My sensitivity to the cold - just to name a few. Oh, and the fact that I have to waste seven hours out of the day to give my brain a break. The time could be used so much better than just lying around."

"That's the reason you're sitting here."

Looking at the forest, I said, "Wrong again. I'm sitting here because I'm terribly curious."

"I never would have noticed that."

Briefly, I bit my lower lip. There was a retort on the tip of my tongue that I wasn't sure I should allow to actually come out. But eventually I said, " You know you're pretty sassy sometimes, don't you?"

"That's the age."

"Ah." I raised my head and saw the mischief flash in his eyes even in the darkness. "The age bonus won't protect you forever."

"From what? Your sharp tongue?"

My eyebrow furrowed. "You've been complaining about that since day one."

"True."

"Although I feel like you like to tickle it out of me." I stood up before he could say anything in reply and said, "I think I'll give my human mind its well-deserved rest now. Good night, Legolas."

"Good night, Aspen."

As I curled up again beside the fire, I knew that this would not be the last night I would quiz him about the history of Middle Earth.