Title: Lost
Author: Khylaren
Contact: Khylaren@yahoo.com
Fandom: LOTR 
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. I am not making money off this story; it was written for the pure pleasure of it (mainly mine!)
Warnings: Violence, graphic het and slash sex, mild profanity
Beta:  Larien Elengasse
Cast: OFC, Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Gandalf, Haldir, Rúmil, Orophin, Éomer, Éowyn, Faramir, heck, just about everyone eventually.
Spoilers: None
 
Summary: Erin Smith goes camping in the wilderness of the Olympic National park, and wakes up on the plains of Rohan, meeting Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas as they track the Uruk-Hai.  Is she there for a reason, or did the Valar play a cruel prank?
 
Note: I decided to see if I could write a “modern woman lands in middle earth” story without making it a total Mary Sue. Yeah, okay, so there’s romance (or at least some gratuitous sex) but I tried, I really did. Hopefully I managed to succeed in some parts.
 
If it sounds just like Tolkien, it most likely is. I used the books frequently to work some of the scenes, and I also borrowed from the movies. However, I took liberties here and there with several of the chain of events and dialog, just to keep things running smoothly. This most definitely isn’t canon as both Rúmil and Orophin speak Westron.

One last thing: this is the original, NC17 version in all its smutty, slashy/het glory. If you’re not into that kind of thing, the R version will suit you much better. 
 
~ * ~
Book I: LOST

Chapter 1
 
She slogged ungracefully across the trail, adjusting the weight of her backpack so that it didn’t rub her shoulders quite as much, and paused, lifting the lock of dark hair out of her eyes. Squinting through the haze of rain, she could barely make out the trees that surrounded her.
 
“What possessed me to go camping by myself?” Erin muttered crossly, wiping the rain from her eyes. “I should have stayed home.”  She sighed, shifting her pack once more. “Not that I would have had any better time.”  
 
That was certainly true – her roommate Sally and her boyfriend were spending the weekend together at the apartment, and if Erin had to listen to one more night of their moans and groans as they went at it like fevered rabbits while she lay alone in her narrow bed, she’d scream.  
 
It had been Professor Taggit’s suggestion that she spend some time away from them. As her student counselor and teacher, he had noticed the depression that had been steadily growing in Erin, depression caused by the recent breakup with her fiancé, a man she had dated for four years.  Taggit had given her a map of Washington State Parks and recommended some excellent areas she could hike into.
 
“They’re secluded, yet easy enough for a novice like yourself to hike to, Erin. I think you’d enjoy the peace and quiet”
 
“No bears?” she asked, half in jest.
 
Her professor looked thoughtful. “Well, there might be. You just need to make sure you take precautions with your food, so you won’t attract them.”
 
Erin looked doubtful. “I don’t know, professor. It doesn’t sound very relaxing to me.  I’m not exactly the outdoorsy type.”  That was an understatement. Erin hadn’t been camping since she was a little girl, and her idea of recreation was swimming at the University Pool.
 
Taggit had chuckled, his gray eyebrows meeting briefly in amusement.  “I think you’ll be surprised once you get there. It can be very relaxing to be away from all our modern conveniences and troubles, even just for a night. And I think you’ll surprise yourself at how much you enjoy it.”
 
So, Erin had accepted the map, looking over the regions that were nearest her.  
 
The Olympic National Park was the largest, spreading well over a quarter of the northern tip of Washington State.  She knew from previous trips to Port Angeles and Forks that the area there was rugged and beautiful; the Olympic Mountain chain making an excellent and breathtakingly beautiful backdrop to the rainforests and valleys.  
 
Carefully, she looked over possible camping areas.  Since she wasn’t ready for actual mountain climbing, that left out several choices. What she needed was a simple half-day hike to a secluded area where she could set up a tent and build a fire. That way, she’d still be close enough to civilization for comfort, just in case.
 
At last she settled on a site, located just a few miles from Port Angeles, in an area simply labeled “Wilderness Camping”.  She didn’t plan to hike in very far – mainly because she didn’t want to risk getting lost.  She took a roll of surveyor’s tape – bright obnoxious pink – to help mark her way.
 
After leaving her car in the designated parking area (permit showing plainly through the windshield) and sliding her $10 camping fee into the lock box at the end of the lot, Erin had shouldered her pack and taken the gently sloping dirt path that grew steadily steeper as she walked.  She’d been walking for only about two hours and decided she’d come far enough. The rain had started about an hour into her hike, but she’d been determined to weather it out.  After all, this area was listed as a rainforest, so she should not have been surprised. 
 
She had not been prepared for how cold she would be once the rain soaked through her clothing.  That, more than anything, was the final determining factor on where she would set up camp.
 
Erin looked carefully around her and selected a likely spot beneath a huge cedar tree, hoping that it’s overhanging branches would help to provide some shelter from the constant mist that rained down.  From the looks of the dark gray sky above her, it didn’t appear that the rain would be letting up any time soon, and she was tired of being cold and wet.
 
Trudging irritably over to her tree, she slid the heavy pack from her shoulders, letting out a soft groan of relief as the weight left her.  The damn thing carried all her camping gear and food, and it was heavy!  It hadn’t seemed that way when she’d tried it out initially, packed with her things, before leaving for her trip. But after hiking up a steady grade for two hours, the thing felt like it weight a ton.  Her thin shoulders, unused to bearing the strain, ached from their exertion, as did her lower back.  Muttering and wishing she’d brought some Advil or Tylenol, Erin crouched down in front of her pack and opened it.  
 
She’d set up the tent first, she decided. Once it was up, she could drag her pack inside and change into something dry. That would help her mood considerably, although she was seriously beginning to doubt that she should actually go through with staying the night up here. Initially, she had planned to spend two, but after getting up here, soaking wet, she changed her mind. One night alone in the wilderness was plenty!
 
Erin was glad she had taken the time to practice setting up her tent before she left, so she was familiar with where all the poles and ties went.  Still, it took her quite a few moments of cursing and struggling with the poles before she finally got it set up the right way.  She sat back with a heavy sigh, wiping the hair away from her eyes again, and in the process, smearing mud and bark across her face.  Shaking her head in amusement, she looked at her hands, which were already filthy, dirt embedded beneath her fingernails.  
 
She hadn’t brought any towels – they would have taken up far too much room in her pack, and she hadn’t thought she’d need one at the time. Wiping her hands as best she could on her wet sweater, she shoved her pack into the tent and crawled in after it.  Turning in the cramped confines, Erin debated on whether or not she should close the flap, and decided not to bother – after all, it wasn’t as if anyone was going to walk in on her while she changed.  Digging through her pack, she carefully laid out the packages of unappetizing freeze-dried food, followed closely by her water, sterno camp stove, and matches.  Underneath lay her clothing, her toiletries and bedroll, sans pillow, of course.  Erin wondered just how well she was going to sleep without it and decided she would have to come up with something to substitute for it - perhaps her sweater, once it was dry, would work well enough.  
 
After laying out her sleeping bag, she sat on it, and shrugged out of her sweater, pulling the sodden mass of polyester and cotton and slinging it over her head in disgust. Her bra was soaked as well, and she decided that for one day, she could certainly go without it – no one was here to see that she wasn’t properly restrained!  With a grin, she unhooked it and tossed it next to the sweater, reaching for her favorite WSU sweatshirt and pulling it over her head.  Her jeans were soaked as well, and she had to stand up to peel them off her body.  Of course, she’d forgotten to take off her shoes first – so she spent several moments struggling futilely, trying to get the wet material over her hiking boots. She lost her balance and fell, landing in an ungraceful heap on her sleeping bag.  Muttering and laughing at her own stupidity, she unlaced the sodden laces of her boots and tossed them next to her other wet clothing.  Her socks were damp, but tolerable, so she left them on as she finally managed to get her jeans off.  Her rain-soaked underwear followed suit, and she quickly pulled on the only other pair of pants she’d brought – a pair of soft cotton khakis that were her current favorite. 
 
Dressed in dry clothing at last, Erin laid back on her sleeping bag and stared up at the tent above her, sighing in relief.  She hadn’t realized before now how wonderful it could feel to be dry.
 
~ * ~
 
“This is hopeless,” she muttered, crouching over the ring of stones that made for a makeshift fire pit at her campsite. The wood was wet – everything was wet, and her efforts at starting a fire so she could warm up a little were not successful, to say the least.  She’d used the last of her newspaper in a vain attempt to get the wet wood to catch fire, and all she’d gotten for her efforts was a lot of smoke, a quick flash of heat as the paper quickly burned, and a few embers of burnt moss that quickly disappeared. The wood refused to catch.
 
“Obviously, I’m not cut out for this,” she groused, pushing at the damp hair that had fallen into her face. No one had told her to bring her own wood if she wanted a fire! No one had told her that the wood that lay within easy reach of her campsite would be far too wet or green to catch fire without a serious dousing of gasoline and a blowtorch, both of which, she mused irritably, she had apparently forgotten because they weren’t listed as necessities on her camping list.
 
Erin glared at her campfire, wishing she could ignite it with the heat of her frustration, and shivered. The sun was setting gradually and the woods had become steadily darker as a result. She was cold, tired, and pissed off.
 
“That’s it. I’m done,” she declared finally, brushing her hands off on her pants and standing up. “I’m going to bed.”  She looked around her campsite – if her pitiful attempt could indeed be called that – with disgust. “You win, wilderness,” she called. “I’ll be gone tomorrow and you can torment the next idiot who decides to come and visit you.”
 
Stomping the mud from her boots, she crawled inside her tent, zipping the flap shut behind her. She stripped her boots off and placed them carefully next to the flap so that they would be within easy reach.  She then took a moment to repack her backpack with the remains of her food and water, stuffing her wet clothing on top.  All that would remain for her to pack in the morning when she left would be her sleeping bag and tent.  Shivering slightly, she crawled into her sleeping bag, pulling the zipper closed and snuggled down into it until only her nose peeped out.  With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
 
Erin’s eyes opened a moment later, and she stared out in the darkness of her tent.  
 
She couldn’t sleep.  It was too quiet.
 
“Next time, I’m staying at the Port Angeles Hotel,” she muttered, curling onto her side and closing her eyes again determinedly. In just a few hours, she promised herself, she would be on her way back to civilization, where there was warmth and light and noise and food that didn’t taste like Styrofoam.
 
She could survive until then.
 
~ * ~
 
Something woke her in the middle of the night, bringing her out of the state of oblivious slumber she had finally managed to achieve.  Her eyes snapped open in the darkness, her breath catching in sudden fright, as her ears strained to hear whatever it was that had awakened her.
 
Nothing. She could hear nothing. The woods around her were completely silent.  Irritated, and calling herself all kinds of idiot, she turned over in her sleeping bag, closing her eyes once more, trying to regain the pleasant dream she’d been having before she’d been so abruptly awakened.  
 
She was drifting off when a low sound jerked her abruptly awake once more. She sat up, and froze, when she heard the sound again. A low wuffing noise, like something large, sniffing around the edge of her tent.
 
Bear, she thought, her heart hammering wildly. It’s probably a bear, looking for food. She was grateful that all her food was packaged tightly and freeze-dried, and therefore lacking any tempting odor that would encourage the animal to investigate her tent. Still, it was frightening to hear how close the animal was, and she thought she could see a shadow of something large against the wall of her tent.
 
With trembling fingers she reached for her flashlight, closing around the black metal handle and drawing it into her lap.  Go away, she thought silently. Nothing good here for you. Nothing to eat.
 
The wuffing noise sounded again and Erin nearly screamed despite herself when the animal brushed against the sides of the tent, causing it to bend inwards.
 
She took a deep breath and thumbed the switch of the flashlight, directing its light at the section of tent that was moving the most. “GO AWAY!” she yelled as loud as she could, her fear lending strength to her voice. “GO!”
 
The animal gave a squeal of pain and surprise, and Erin heard the scuffling sounds it made as it retreated. She held her breath, waiting for the animal to return, her ears straining to hear over her the pounding of her heart.
 
Several agonizingly long moments passed, but Erin heard nothing further.  Trembling from the adrenaline that had rushed through her, she let out a shaky breath, uncertain as to what she should do now.  Deep in her thoughts, she almost missed the sound of voices murmuring just outside her tent.
 
~ * ~
 
Aragorn studied the strange contraption in front of him, recognizing it as a type of tent, but not the construction of it or the shape, which was dome-like, instead of the usual inverted V-shape he usually associated with such things.  He glanced at his companion, watching the elf remove his arrow from the dead body of the orc he had slain, wiping its black blood against the grass.
 
“Do you recognize this?” Aragorn asked softly, pitching his voice so that it carried to the keen ears of Legolas.
 
The elf stood up, shoving the arrow into the quiver strapped to his back, and shook his head. “No, I do not,” he answered with equal softness. “I have never seen its like, and its materials are more than strange.”
 
Aragorn’s mouth quirked briefly and his blue eyes glinted with humor. “Shall we see if the occupant of this strange tent is well? Or shall we leave him to his business, whatever that may be?”
 
Legolas nodded, curiosity written on his fair features. “I would like to know how he made the light so suddenly that shined right through the tent. Perhaps he is a wizard?”
 
“Aye, if it had not been for that light, I think that orc would have torn through the tent before your arrow reached him,” Aragorn replied, stepping forward to tap lightly on the strange material.
 
A startled gasp came from within the tent, and Legolas could hear the occupant moving within. A strange ripping sound was heard, and the tent flap parted in the middle, as easily as if it had been cut open by an extremely sharp blade.  
 
Erin gripped her flashlight tightly, ready to use it to defend herself if she needed to. She had heard two voices speaking outside the tent, although she could not discern the words, for their voices were too low. She had been expecting the faint tap, and she swallowed, praying that whoever was on the other side of the tent flap had friendly intentions. Quick flashes of every bad horror movie she’d ever seen paraded through her already frightened brain, including one that hadn’t been a horror movie, exactly, but had been horrible none the less – something about mountain people and a rafting expedition gone awry. Bringing the flashlight close to her chest, she unzipped the flap slowly, praying she wasn’t about to be tortured, raped, or killed by the crazies of the wilderness.
 
Aragorn gave a start when the flap opened. A young woman stared out at them with frightened brown eyes, gripping a strange black cylinder in her right hand defensively.  
 
Erin blinked, uncertain of what she was seeing. The man closest to her was regarding her patiently, and with some uncertainty - as if he too was unsure of what he was seeing. His face was dirty and unshaven, but there was no threat or malice in the blue eyes that regarded her.  
 
“Who are you,” Aragorn asked, switching to the common tongue of Middle Earth. “And what are you doing here?”
 
“My name is Erin Smith,” she replied with a small frown, gripping her flashlight tighter. “I was camping here.”
 
“Here?” Legolas asked with surprise and no small amount of incredulity. “Alone?”
 
Erin’s head turned when the second man spoke, her eyes widening in surprise. The man was taller than his companion, and blonde where the other was dark. His clothing was as strange as his companion’s, but it was his face that arrested her attention. He was fair skinned and delicate looking, but there was a definite masculine quality about the set of his features.  With the exception of a few male models she’d seen in magazines, Erin didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone male who could qualify as beautiful, but she could hardly describe him as anything else. A stray breeze caught his long blonde hair, fluttering it behind him, and then she saw his ears.  It took a few moments to register in her fright-addled brain. His ears are pointed!
 
“Have I wandered into a D&D campout?” she asked with a flash of understanding, really looking at the two men before her for the first time. That would certainly explain their outlandish clothes, and the weapons she saw, although the latter certainly looked as if it had seen actual use.  Perhaps they were participating in some elaborate fantasy role-play – she’d read that there were people who sometimes did that.
 
Aragorn frowned. “I do not know what this Dee and dee is that you speak of, but this is certainly no ‘campout’. Do you not know where you are?”
 
Erin snorted at his affected speech, reaching for her boots. “Well, okay, I’ll play along. I happen to be camping in the Olympic National Park, approximately 12 miles north of Port Angeles. Where are you guys supposed to be?”  She bent her head and began to lace them.
 
Legolas and Aragorn exchanged glances over her bent head.
 
“You are camped on the plains of Rohan, Lady,” Legolas replied softly with a shake of his head. “About nine days journey from the city of Edoras.”
 
“Sure,” she said disbelief coloring her voice. “If you say so. Nice ears, by the way.”  She crawled out of her tent to stand up.
 
Legolas was taken aback by her tone and retreated in silence as he watched the strange woman begin to roll up her sleeping bag.
 
“You do not take us seriously,” Aragorn stated in disbelief, watching her work. “This is not a safe place for you to be.”  He continued to watch her, taking in her strange garb. She wore tan colored trousers that fit her loosely, and a strange gray colored tunic with no buttons or fastenings he could see. An unusual design decorated the front of it in bright red and white colors. 
 
Erin snorted again. “Well, no kidding. I don’t know what I was thinking when I decided I would go camping, but I think the bear was the final straw. I’m leaving, and finding the nearest Motel-6 so I can get a decent night’s rest without the Dungeons and Dragons Support Group pestering me.”  She glanced up at them as she tied her roll, irritation warring with humor. “Sorry I disrupted your fantasy.”
 
“Bear?” Aragorn repeated slowly, ignoring the rest of her prattle since he didn’t understand most of it anyway.
 
“Bear. You know, four-legged omnivore that occasionally pesters unprepared campers. Big, smelly, covered in fur?” she trailed off slowly as she saw the looks on their faces. “I chased it away with my flashlight.”
 
Understanding dawned on Aragorn’s face and he reached out, gripping her shoulder.
 
“Hey!” she exclaimed, trying to remove his grasping hand. 
 
“That was no bear, Lady,” Aragorn said through clenched teeth, his patience with her running thin. “That was an orc.  A scout for the party of Uruk-Hai that we are tracking.”
 
She ignored his hand for a moment, her jaw dropping open slightly in surprise. Then she smiled. “You’re very good,” she said, pulling away from him to finish stuffing her sleeping bag in her pack. “You had me going there for a minute. Almost believed you.”  She dragged her pack out of the tent and began to dismantle it, pulling the long poles out of their sleeves and folding them neatly.
 
Legolas and Aragorn watched the strange process, fascinated by the neat way everything folded together to fit into the small sack she stuffed it into.  Slinging everything onto her back, she stood up once more, amusement clearly written on her face.
 
“Well, lads, I’ll leave you to your orc hunting. Have fun.”  She turned to go and stopped, her progress frozen completely by the object that lay in the grass right next to where her tent had been.  “Oh!” she said shortly, feeling her knees give way. 
 
Legolas caught her easily before she fell completely to the ground, his strong arms catching her under her armpits and hauling her back to her feet.  He kept his hands on her arms, just in case she decided to collapse again.
 
Erin’s eyes were closed against the horrible and grotesque creature she had just seen. “No, no, no, no,” she muttered under her breath, trying to calm herself. “It’s just another guy dressed up as an orc. It’s all part of their game.”  But when she opened her eyes again, she had to admit that for a costume, he looked pretty damned realistic.
 
Aragorn eyed her with concern. “It is no game, Lady,” he said. “Though I suspect that you may well wish otherwise before the day is through.”
 
“There you are!” a gruff voice said from behind them. “I was beginning to think you two were trying to loose me a’ purpose!”  He came to a halt beside Legolas and looked suspiciously up at his friend, puffing from his exertions. “What do we have here?”
 
Erin saw him arrive, but her thoughts were elsewhere. As the sun began its steady climb over the horizon, she became aware of several important factors that did not, in any way, comfort her. One – the pine, maple, and cedar trees that had surrounded her campsite were completely gone, replaced by a gentle rolling grassland that sloped gradually away from them.  Two – the ‘orc’ that was lying motionless across from her was bleeding, and as far as she could tell, it was not breathing at all. She’d stared at it for the longest time, trying to catch any movement, any sign of breathing, and had not seen it move once. Three – and most important of all – she could see no sign of the familiar Olympic peaks that dominated this part of Washington state.  The snow-capped peaks in the distance were not familiar to her at all.
 
Aragorn saw her face turn alarmingly pale. “Catch her, Legolas!” he cried, moving forward as his friend laid the swooning woman gently on the ground.
 
The dwarf snorted, taking in her strange clothing with interest. “She is a stranger to this parts, I would wager,” he said with a low growl, squatting down beside Legolas and Aragorn.
 
“Strange indeed,” Legolas agreed, watching as Aragorn chafed the pale hands between his own.
 
“Lady, Erin,” Aragorn called, watching her eyelids flutter as she came to her senses.  He was unnerved by the blankness of the look he saw in her brown eyes.  He slapped her face lightly, once on each cheek, trying to rouse a response from her. “Erin!”
 
She mumbled something, turning her face away.
 
“What did she say?” Gimli asked, his bushy eyebrows raising in curiosity.
 
“Stop hitting me,” she replied, struggling to sit up. “Let go of me,” she said crossly, shrugging off Legolas’ hands and scuttling backwards as fast as she could from the three of them and the dead body, which by now, had begun to smell.
 
Erin regarded the strange tableau before her and tried to get her brain to work.  Taking a deep breath, she directed her attention to the dark haired man, who seemed to be the unspoken leader of the group.
 
“Let me test my understanding of what is going on here, gentlemen, and I ask your patience in this matter,” she said finally, wrapping her arms around her legs.
 
Aragorn nodded, making no move towards her. He could tell she was frightened beyond reason, and he did not want to make the situation any worse than it was. Time was slipping quickly past them while they dallied here with this human woman, strange though she may be, and his concern for the hobbits grew stronger with each passing moment.
 
“I’m not where I was when I went to bed,” she said finally. “This is not the Olympic National Park, nor are those the Olympic Mountains I see in the distance.” She fixed them with a hard look. “You guys look like something out of a fantasy convention, yet your costumes, even the dead guy over there, look convincingly real.”  Shaking her head in disbelief, she continued. “I don’t know how the hell I got here, but I want you to know that I want no part of it. I want to go home now, okay?”
 
Aragorn glanced at Legolas and Gimli, indecision and irritation warring on his features. Legolas shrugged eloquently, and the normally loquacious dwarf was silent as well.  His blue eyes narrowed, but his friends would give him no advice in this matter.  He turned back to Erin, who was watching the whole scene with a look of someone who is slowly realizing that their nightmares have come true.
 
“Very well,” Aragorn said, trying to inject some lightness in his tone. “We cannot leave you here to fend for yourself, inconvenient though it may be to take you along on our journey.”  He sighed, standing slowly so as not to startle her. “We will try to send you back to your home once we find Merry and Pippin.  Agreed?”
 
Erin felt the blood drain from her face at his words. “Oh my God!” she said softly, her hand covering her mouth as the realization hit her like a well-thrown brick. “I know who you people are!”  It was impossible. She couldn’t believe it. Yet it was the only thing that made any kind of sense out of this whole mess.  She pointed a shaking finger at the dark haired man.
 
“You’re Aragorn,” she said, finding it hard to swallow. “You’re Legolas, and you’re Gimli,” she pointed to each in turn, her breath increasing rapidly. “You’re chasing the Orcs that captured your friends and killed Boromir.”  
 
Aragorn’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “How do you know this?” he demanded, crossing the distance between them and grabbing her arm roughly. “Are you a witch?”
 
She shook silently in his arms, her head bowed as she tried to come to grips with the madness of her situation. 
 
“Lady,” Aragorn’s sudden temper was gone. “How is it you know these things?” he repeated softly.
 
Erin looked up at the man who was peering down at her with suspicion and concern. She swallowed the knot that had formed in her throat and tried to answer.
 
“I-I know the story,” she said finally. “Where I come from, it is one of the most well-loved tales. They are even making a movie out of it.”  She raised her eyes hopefully. “I don’t suppose this is a movie set and this is all an elaborate prank?”
 
Aragorn shook his head, not understanding what a movie was. “It is not, Lady.  How well do you know this tale you speak of?”
 
Feeling the last bit of hope she had vanish at his words, Erin bit her lip uncertainly. It was so hard to believe any of this. She kept thinking she was going to wake up anytime now and find it had all been a terrible dream.
 
Sighing, she shook herself free from his grasp. “I tried to read the books a long time ago, when I was much younger. When I heard the movie was coming out this winter, I tried to read the first one again, but I only got as far as the Fellowship leaving Rivendell.”  She gave him an embarrassed look. “I never finished reading them. I only know bits and pieces of the general storyline from talking with friends who have read it.”
 
Aragorn was tormented between wanting to plague Erin with questions and the need to resume their journey. He could see the same indecision plaguing his friends as well.
 
“We will speak of this later,” Aragorn decided finally. “For now we must resume our quest if we are to reach Merry and Pippin alive.”
 
Erin looked at him with frightened eyes, shaking her head. “I’m not coming with you guys.”
 
Legolas frowned, his dark brows meeting together in concern. “You cannot stay here, Lady. It is much too dangerous.”
 
“Dangerous, sure. But you guys are running full tilt into a huge party of orcs. That sounds much more dangerous than leaving me here in an empty field.” Erin shook her head again, plopping herself down on her pack and folding her arms. “You guys go right ahead. I’ll just wander over that way, in the opposite direction, if you don’t mind.”
 
Silently cursing the stubborn ignorance of the woman in front of him, Aragorn forced himself to be as cordial as possible. “I regret, Lady, that we cannot do that. For to abandon you here would be to leave you to your certain death, unarmed as you are. The party of orcs we follow are not the only ones roaming these plains.”
 
Erin looked apprehensively around her. “You mean there are more?” she said finally, her voice very quiet.
 
“Most certainly, lassie.” Gimli spoke gruffly from her side, his brown eyes glittering beneath his bushy eyebrows. “They’d make a quick meal of you, as soon as they were through with their sport.”
 
“Sport?” replied Erin faintly. “You’re joking, right?”  She looked around at their serious faces and realized that this was no joke to them.  She stood up, lifting her pack to her shoulders once more and settling it firmly. “Fine. I’ll go with you.” She lifted her chin slightly, trying to look braver than she obviously felt. “I’m nobody’s ‘sport’.”
 
Gimli nodded, clapping her on the back and nearly knocking her over with the strength of it. “That’s it, lassie. At last you show some sense. You had best stick with me.” He gave the human and the elf a mock-glower. “You would never be able to run with these two,” he growled. “Legolas is half-deer, and Aragorn just as bad.”  

Erin swallowed, glancing briefly at Aragorn and Legolas. “I’ll try to keep up.”

Legolas nodded, and with a quick look at Aragorn, took off, sprinting so lightly over the grass it barely moved with his passage.

Aragorn gripped her arm briefly, looking down at her. “Stay with Gimli. He will protect you.”  And without another word, he took off in the direction Legolas had taken, moving almost as easily as the elf.

“Ready, lassie?” Gimli asked almost kindly.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, and began to run, Gimli following close at her heels.
 
Chapter 2
 
Oh my god, I’m dying, Erin thought, pressing a hand to her side as she ran. She had developed a stitch there and it burned painfully, as did her lungs, and legs, and, well, her whole body.  Although she was fairly fit, playing the occasional game of tennis and swimming on a somewhat regular basis, her body was not used to running – especially at the pace that Gimli had set.  She had started out in front of him and had quickly fallen behind the dwarf, for all that his legs were much shorter than hers.
 
“Keep up, lassie,” Gimli called behind him. “Legolas and Aragorn have stopped just over the ridge there.” He pointed to a tall point of grassy hill that Erin could barely see in the distance.
 
“You make it sound so close,” Erin panted, her pack jarring her shoulders painfully with each stride she took.  To make matters worse, she’d forgotten to put her bra back on, and so the pack was not the only thing bouncing painfully.
 
“Save your breath, lassie,” Gimli admonished, his own breath puffing with his exertions. “We shall be there soon enough.”
 
Easy for you to say, Erin thought crossly. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.  She increased her pace slightly to catch up with Gimli’s bulkier form, and managed to stay there for a short while.  However, by the time they reached the ridge where Aragorn and Legolas waited, Erin felt her legs were nothing but Jell-O.  She dropped where she stood, bent over, gasping for air, not caring how undignified she must look. Her heavy pack slid from her shoulders onto the ground behind her and she was grateful to be relieved of its weight.  The stitch in her side was a fire that pained her with every breath she took, and her feet felt like they were burning inside her boots.
 
“Are you well?” a soft voice asked from beside her, and Erin looked up, seeing Legolas looking at her concernedly.
 
“Not at all,” she replied between pants, wiping away the sweat that threatened to drip into her eyes. “I can’t do this any more.”  She shook her head, sitting back with a groan as her tortured legs complained some more. “I’m through. Leave me here guys. I’ll take my chances with the orcs.”  She grinned briefly and in a humorless fashion. “At least they won’t make me run.”
 
Aragorn frowned, although his eyes glinted briefly in humor at her comment. “We will rest here until you catch your strength.”
 
“No, go on,” Erin insisted. “You need to catch those guys and rescue your friends.” Her breathing had finally slowed to something more normal, although her heart was still pounding in her chest. “I’m just holding you back.”
 
Aragorn stalked over to where she sat, squatting down in front of her so he could look at her. “I will not leave a woman alone on the plains undefended,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “I will hear no more from you about it.”
 
Irritation at his high-handed tone shot through her, although part of her knew he was making sense. “You’re not my keeper, Aragorn,” she snapped crossly. “I don’t answer to you.”
 
She heard Legolas soft intake of breath at her words but ignored him. “I’m not going another step until I’m damned good and ready,” she said stubbornly.  She failed to see the dangerous glint in Aragorn’s eyes when she finished. “You can’t make me.”
 
Gimli snorted and moved away, shaking his head.  He wanted no part of what he knew was to come.  
 
Swifter than she could ever have imagined, Aragorn scooped her off the ground and flung her unceremoniously over his shoulder, her legs clasped firmly across his chest as he balanced her weight, leaving her dangling down his back.  Furious at the sudden and very undignified position she found herself in, Erin flailed at his back with her fists.
 
“Put me down, you big bully!” she yelled, squirming in his tight grasp.  Gimli’s chuckle made her flush in embarrassment, and she doubled her efforts.
 
Aragorn was not amused, and didn’t appreciate the blows she was raining down on his neck and shoulders. He retaliated in the only fashion he could think of, bringing his hand down smartly on her upturned bottom.
 
“Ow!” Erin cried, feeling her bottom sting painfully. “Stop that!”  Tears sprang to her eyes as he smacked her bottom again, several stinging blows in rapid succession.
 
“Behave yourself, Lady,” Aragorn grated through clenched teeth. “I will desist if you will.”  He felt her flailing cease abruptly, and he heard her struggle not to cry.  He glanced over at Legolas, but his friend’s expression was carefully neutral, although there was a curious light to his eyes, as if the elf was finding the situation somewhat humorous.  Gimli was openly amused.  
 
“Will you please put me down?” came the muffled plea against his back.
 
“No,” Aragorn replied shortly, adjusting his burden once more, clasping her legs against his chest. “I will carry you until I tire, then Legolas, and if needs be, Gimli.”
 
Erin’s face flushed with embarrassment, thinking of being carried like a sack of unruly potatoes over the shoulder of the handsome elf.  She’d die first.
 
Aragorn didn’t wait for her reply, but instead gestured for Gimli to retrieve her pack. Following Legolas, the three of them set out once more.
 
~ * ~
 
Night had fallen, and Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli had alternately carried Erin throughout their journey. They paused only long enough to exchange her, taking off once again at the ground eating pace, desperation lending them their strength.  She’d been swapped around enough times that her stomach hurt from being bounced against various shoulders, and her head hurt from being hung upside down.  Legolas carried her now, and she had to admit the jarring was a lot less when he held her, compared to Aragorn or Gimli, the latter whom was barely tall enough to do so.  She was humiliated by the whole process, especially when Legolas had taken her for his first turn, tossing her as gently as he could over his shoulder.  She’d felt a brief pat to her backside as he settled her legs against his chest, and then he was running, the ground passing beneath her in a blur. 
 
She felt Legolas come to a halt, one hand releasing her legs to shade his eyes as he peered into the distance.  She squirmed, wanting to be let down, but his arm tightened slightly, holding her still.
 
“What do you see, mellonen?” Aragorn asked, pulling up beside them.  
 
“Dust from riders,” Legolas replied, his eyes narrowed as he tried to make out the details of what he was seeing. “At least 30 riders approach this direction.”
 
“Riders of the Mark, I would wager,” Aragorn said, letting out a long breath. “Let us go down where can see them closer.  If it is indeed the men of Rohan who approach, we would do well to seek their aid, for they may have news of our friends.”
 
Erin felt Legolas nod and shift her weight slightly as they began to descend the slope.  She heard Gimli arrive shortly, following the agile man and elf down the steep hill with grumbles and mutterings.  They reached the bottom, and she felt Legolas lift her from his shoulder, placing her gently on the ground before him.
 
“Stay behind us,” he warned as Aragorn called out to the horsemen that rode past them.
 
“What news from the North, riders of Rohan!”
 
She didn’t need Legolas’ warning as the horsemen turned as a unit and formed a quick circle around them, their lances lowered and pointed at the small party. Gimli edged closer, and Erin found herself effectively hidden behind them. The glittering helmets of the riders and their weapons made her grateful for their presence.
 
“Who are you and what are you doing on this land?” a voice belonging to one of the riders challenged.
 
“I am called Strider,” Aragorn answered easily. “I came out of the north, and I am hunting Orcs.”
 
The rider leapt easily from his horse, advancing towards them, drawing his sword.  Erin felt Legolas and Gimli stiffen, but the neither made a move as the rider approached them.
 
“Ah,” he said at last. “At first I thought that you yourselves were Orcs, but I can see that this is not so.  Indeed, you must know little of Orcs to go hunting for them in this fashion. They were swift and well-armed, and they were many. You would have changed from hunters to prey, if you had overtaken them.  But there is something strange about you, Strider.” He looked keenly at Aragorn, his eyes bright in the darkness of the evening. “That is no name for a Man you give. And strange, too, is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass?  How did you escape our sight? Are you Elvish folk?”
 
“Only one of us is an Elf,” Aragorn replied. “Legolas from the Woodland Realm in distant Mirkwood. But we have passed through Lothlórien, and the gifts and the favor of the Lady go with us.”
 
The eyes of the rider of Rohan hardened. “Then there is a Lady of the Golden Wood, as the old tales tell,” he said. “Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days indeed!  But if you have her favor, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe.” He turned a cold eye to Legolas and Gimli, noting the dark-haired woman that hid behind them both. “And why do you not speak, silent ones?” he demanded.
 
Gimli growled. “Give me your name horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides.”
 
Erin could tell the conversation wasn’t going well – she could feel the tension between these riders and their company like a tangible thing, and it frightened her. She wondered if they all could hear her heart hammering in her chest.
 
The rider took affront to Gimli’s words, but introduced himself nonetheless as Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark.
 
“You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you,” Gimli said with heat, his fingers gripping his axe tightly. 
 
She heard the murmur of anger sweep through the riders and closed her eyes. Why did the dwarf have to get so testy all of a sudden?  
 
“I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground,” said Éomer, his eyes blazing with his anger.
 
“He stands not alone,” Legolas said, fitting an arrow to his bow with hands quicker than anyone could follow. “You would die before stroke fell.”
 
Erin was convinced they were all going to die.  Who will ever explain this to my parents she wondered, half-hysterically. She went camping and was slaughtered needlessly over stupid male posturing.  Caught in the cross-fire, as it were.  She stifled the insane giggle that threatened to bubble out of her, knowing that now was most definitely not the time to indulge in hysterics.
 
But Aragorn was talking in his soothing voice, and the men of Rohan, Éomer included, were listening.  Weapons that were trained on them suddenly dropped away, and the horsemen backed away slightly, giving them all more room to breathe.
 
She did not heed their discussion, overwhelmed once more with a sense of un-reality. She really needed to wake up from this awful camping-trip-from-hell induced dream.  Recalling every bad ‘this is just a dream’ movie and book she had ever seen or read, Erin pinched herself as hard as she could.  She winced from the pain of it, but nothing around her changed. She was still standing behind Legolas, Gimli beside her, and now the riders were leaving.
 
“What happened?” she asked them quietly, rubbing her arm where she had pinched herself.  
 
The elf’s expression was grave. “They found the party of orcs we tracked, and killed them to the last one.  They saw no sign of Merry or Pippin neither during the attack, nor afterwards, when they burned the bodies.”
 
Aragorn was leading two horses behind him, and Erin watched him approach, seeing the worry on his face.
 
“Éomer has lent us these to ride to aide us in our search. They belonged to two riders who fell during their battle with the Orcs,” he said quietly, stroking the nose of one of them. “This one is called Hasufel, the other is Arod.”
 
“I would sooner walk,” Gimli grumbled, looking up at the horses that towered over his small form with dislike. “Than to ride on the back of so great a beast, free or begrudged.”
 
Erin could understand his feelings – the horses were quite a bit larger than he, but she didn’t share them - anything to keep from having to run any more, or be carried over someone’s shoulder, for that matter.
 
“But you must ride,” Aragorn said firmly. “Or you will hinder us.”
 
“You can ride behind me,” Legolas said with a laugh, stroking the nose of Arod lightly. “And take your ease there.”
 
Gimli chose not to rise to Legolas’ obvious bait, instead accepted his assistance into the saddle, clutching the edges of it nervously.
 
Aragorn regarded Erin, wondering if her stubborn streak was about to reassert itself.  “You will ride with me,” he said quietly, and was relieved to see no anger on her face. “I would have had you return with the Riders of the Mark to Edoras, but they are not returning just yet, so you must yet journey with us.”
 
Erin snorted, placing her booted foot in the cupped hands that Aragorn offered her and lifted herself into the saddle of the tall horse, trying to ignore the sudden pang of fear that went through her when she realized just how far away the ground was. “You would have left me with a bunch of strange men who would have killed you just a few moments ago, yet you don’t trust me to survive on my own?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow slightly.  “That makes just so much sense.”
 
Aragorn ignored her jibe, swinging into the saddle behind her easily. “The men of Rohan are noble and would treat you honorably, Lady. You would have been far safer with them if they were returning to the city.”
 
“If you say so,” Erin replied, gripping the edges of the saddle Hasufel began to move.  She closed her eyes, hanging on for dear life as the animal moved faster.  She felt Aragorn’s arm slide around her middle and help support her.
 
“Relax,” he said in her ear as the wind whistled past them, Hasufel’s strides making the ground passing by them a mere blur of grass. “I would not let you fall.”
 
“I’ve never been on a horse before,” Erin said through clenched teeth. “Unless you count the pony rides at the fair when I was five.”
 
She felt Aragorn chuckle. “But this is certainly better than being carried, is it not?”
 
Erin stiffened slightly. “I don’t know,” she retorted sharply. “I had a pretty nice view of your backside.”
 
It was Aragorn’s turn to stiffen behind her, and she laughed. “I’m only kidding. I wasn’t much in the mood to admire the view.”  She hadn’t been either. She’d been much too angry and humiliated at the time to notice anything.  Although she understood his motives at the time, she hadn’t forgiven him for spanking her, and planned on making it plain to him that he’d better keep his hands to himself in the future.  Now, of course, was not the time.
 
“Kidding?” he asked, his hands guiding the horse towards a column of smoke that was hanging over the horizon like a giant black cloud.
 
“Teasing,” she explained, watching the smoke grow larger as they approached.  
 
“Oh,” he replied shortly, seeing the pile of still smoldering bodies as they crested the top of the hill.
 
The smell of burning bodies hit them shortly afterwards, making Erin blanch and cover her mouth and nose with her hand.
 
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she groaned, trying to breathe as shallowly as she could. She pulled her sweatshirt over her nose and mouth, using it as a filter. It didn’t help much, and Erin could almost taste the stench of the burning Orcs on the back of her tongue.
 
“It will pass,” Aragorn tried to assure her, his hand stroking her hair back from her forehead in a soothing manner.  It wasn’t working.
 
“Let me off, Aragorn. Right now,” she said, twisting in the saddle abruptly as she felt her gorge begin to rise.
 
The horse had barely stopped when she slid to the ground, kneeling as she threw up the bit of freeze-dried roast beef and potatoes she had eaten the night before, grateful that she hadn’t eaten anything else.
 
Aragorn watched with sympathy as she heaved. She was certainly not the first person to throw up after smelling dead and burning orc bodies, and he was sure she would not be the last. He heard Legolas and Gimli stop behind them and saw Legolas’ concerned look at the wretched girl on the ground, heaving her guts up.
 
“She will be all right in a moment,” Aragorn said quietly, watching her wipe her mouth with the sleeve of the strange shirt she wore, her head tilted back and her face pale.  “Stay with her, I am going to have a closer look.”
 
Erin was embarrassed to realize she had an audience, and quickly wiped her mouth, tasting the foul bile she had thrown up. She hadn’t been able to help herself, however. Between the horrible smell and the recent turn of events in her usually normal and placid life, it was just too much for her to take.  She felt a gentle hand on her back and the rim of a cup placed against her lips.
 
“Drink, it will help,” Legolas’ voice came softly at her ear.  She took the cup from him with her trembling hands and managed to take a sip. It was water, slightly warm, but pure tasting. She used the mouthful she had taken to swish the bad taste from her mouth, spitting it a good distance away, grimacing as she did so. She took another drink and swallowed, feeling the water soothe her throat, which was raw from her earlier upheavals.
 
“Better?” 
 
“A little,” she admitted, giving him a wry look. “Not the most graceful and ladylike thing I’ve ever done in the company of men.”

“Can you stand?” Legolas asked, taking the cup from her and stowing it in her pack.

She nodded. “Probably.”  It was pretty damn pitiful, she thought, struggling to her feet. She was probably the worst person in the world to be stuck where she was right now. She was just a college student at WSU, working towards her English Major.  She hadn’t even read the damn books!  Why on earth had this happened to her?  

Legolas helped her, pulling her to her feet and watching closely as she stood unsteadily. Satisfied that she was not going to fall over, he turned to Gimli.
 
“I am going to see what Aragorn has found.  Would you walk with Erin?  It is not far from here.”  He mounted the gray horse easily and fluidly, looking down at them.
 
Gimli nodded his ascent; glad to be off the back of the horse, no matter how much faster he could travel on its back.  
 
“Wait,” Erin said as Legolas made to move out. “Can I have my pack, please?”
 
He reached back and unhooked it from the saddle’s strings that held it in place, handing it down to her. 
 
“Catch up quickly,” he said, before kicking the horse into a canter.
 
Erin opened her pack, searching through it until her fingers reached an article of clothing she’d been missing earlier.  Middle-Earth or not, she was not about to go traipsing around without it.
 
Gimli watched her curiously, wondering what she could possibly need that could not wait.  She pulled out a white piece of cloth with strange straps, balling it up in her hands when she saw him looking.  A faint flush rose on her pale cheeks, and he wondered why she was embarrassed.
 
“Gimli, could you turn around?” she asked, feeling a like a complete idiot. “This will only take a second, but it’s a, er, private thing.”
 
Gimli’s bushy eyebrows rose in curiosity, but he did as she asked, giving her his back.  He heard the sound of cloth against skin, and heard her muttering under her breath.  He resisted the urge to sneak a look, however tempting it was, and waited until she was finished.
 
“Thank you,” she said with a small smile. “That is so much better.”
 
He grunted in reply and set out walking towards the direction that Legolas and Aragorn had ridden, hearing her fall in step behind him.
 
“What was that all about?” he asked finally, curiosity getting the better of him.
 
Erin blushed slightly and turned to look at the forest that bordered the grassland they walked on. How would she explain a bra to a male dwarf, much less the necessity of one?
 
Gimli sensed she did not want to talk about it. Disappointed, he didn’t press the issue, and continued their walk in silence.
 
The smell was tolerable at this point, albeit just as awful, Erin thought as they reached the pile of burnt bodies. She was unable to prevent a shudder and looked away from them to stare at the dark trees that loomed over this patch of grassland.  They were quite different from any tree she had ever seen, although they appeared to be some type of evergreen.  Their trunks were huge, and their branches gnarled and drooping, and there was something almost menacing about the way they loomed above them, as if they threatened anyone who tried to pass by.
 
“This is the Fangorn,” Legolas said quietly from beside her, startling her because she had not heard him approach. “It is a very old forest indeed.  Strange are the tales of this wood. They say that any who enter here are never seen again.”
 
He was teasing her, trying to keep her mind off the gruesome sight behind her, and she appreciated his efforts.
 
“The trees of my world don’t eat people,” she replied lightly. “Although no one would blame them if they did.” She turned her head to look at the elf standing beside her, admiring his beauty and stillness. “The trees of my world are cut down faster than they can grow, and they say that soon, there will be no more left.”
 
Legolas’ dark eyes widened in dismay. “That is a terrible thing,” he said. “Does no one care for the green and living things of your world?”
 
Erin gave him a small smile as she shook her head. “There are some groups of people who are trying to protect what is left, but it isn’t easy for them.”  She turned back to the ominous looking trees. “It’s too bad there are no elves in my world, Legolas.”
 
Aragorn’s shout brought them out of their reverie and they turned, Legolas moving swiftly across the grass to his side.
 
“Here, look,” Aragorn said excitedly, holding up a small and gleaming object.
 
“That is a cloak pin from the Lady,” Gimli said grimly.
 
“Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall,” Aragorn agreed, his eyes sweeping the ground for further traces of the hobbits. “Here! Two hobbits lay on the ground.” He bent down, touching the grass with his fingers, and Erin was impressed he could tell anything from the trampled dirt and grass around them. “They crawled together here. See, here is a piece of rope – it’s been cut!  And here,” he moved to another spot nearby. “Leaves from the Mellyrn, with crumbs of Lembas still inside.”  His eyes tracked over the ground, looking for further signs, and were rewarded with a small footprint in the mud at the edge of the Fangorn. “They have entered the woods!” he exclaimed.  
 
“Aye, and they were followed,” Legolas said, his eyes catching something the ranger had missed.  “By an orc, if my eyes do not deceive me.”
 
“Come,” Aragorn called. “We may catch them yet, for these tracks are barely hours old.” And with that, he darted between the gnarled trunks of the trees.
 
“Stay close, lassie,” Gimli said, pulling her after him as he followed Legolas. “I do not like these woods at all.”
 
Erin heard Legolas’ laugher floating back to them. “These trees are far older than you, Gimli, son of Gloin,” the elf’s voice came to them, though they were quite a bit behind. “Lay your axe to rest, and you will have naught to fear in these woods.”
 
Gimli fingered his axe as he jogged after the fleet elf and man, reluctant to put it aside.  Erin couldn’t blame him, for she felt the ominous press of the trees around them.  They seemed to resent their living presence, and the back of Erin’s neck prickled with a growing sense of uneasiness.
 
They reached Aragorn and Legolas, who had stopped in their tracks, their eyes wide. Both had their weapons out and were looking around them rapidly, searching for the danger they all felt approaching them.  Erin stepped behind them, wishing she had something – anything to defend herself with, as she heard the sounds of someone or something approach.
 
Legolas had his arrow knocked and trained on the sound, and he felt Aragorn tense and ready beside him. Gimli was gripping his axe.  
 
A fierce white glow filled the glade where they stood, and Erin squinted, trying to see the source of it.  The glow faded, and in its place stood an old man, wearing the gray robes of a peasant traveler.
 
“Well met, my friends,” the old man said, raising his arms in greeting. The gray robes he wore parted, and underneath came a flash of purest white. 
 
“It is Saruman!” Legolas cried, bringing his arrow to bear on the old man.
 
 “Put away that bow, Master Elf,” the old man said sharply.
 
Erin watched in shock as Legolas’ arms dropped to his sides, his bow and arrow sliding uselessly from his fingers.
 
“And you, Master Dwarf, pray take your hand from that axe-hilt.  You do not need such arguments!”
 
Again Erin was stunned when Gimli did as he commanded, his axe dropping to the forest floor, forgotten.
 
“Well met I say again,” said the old man, coming closer towards them.  When he was a few feet away he stopped, standing stopped over his staff, with his head thrust forward, peering at them uncertainly. “And what may you be doing in these parts? An Elf, a Man, a Woman, and a Dwarf, all save one clad in elvish fashion, and the other clad so strangely that I am not certain that my eyes do not deceive me.  No doubt there is a tale worth hearing behind it all. Such things are not often seen here.”
 
“You speak as one that knows Fangorn well,” Aragorn said uneasily. “Is that so?”
 
“Not well,” said the old man. “That would be the study of a lifetime. But I come here, now and again.”
 
 “Might we know your name,” Aragorn asked politely. “Before we hear what it is you would say to us?”
 
Erin was confused. Hadn’t Legolas just said it was Saruman?  But Saruman was a bad guy, if she remembered correctly. This old man certainly didn’t act like a villain, if that was who he was. 
 
“As for what I have wished to say, I have said it.  What may you four be doing, and what tale can you tell of yourselves? As for my name?” He broke of, laughing long and softly.
 
Erin saw Aragorn shudder at the sound and felt it too. There was no terror to it, rather she felt as if she had just been doused with ice cubes and brought sharply awake.
 
“My name?” said the old man again. “Have you not guessed it already?  You have heard it before, I think. Yes, you have heard it before.  But come now, what of your tale?”
 
The four of them regarded the old man silently, unwilling to speak in the silence that grew.  Erin did not know what motivated the others to keep silent, but she found her tongue was tied, and her brain did not provide her with anything useful to say.
 
“There are some who would begin to doubt whether your errand is fit to tell,” admonished the old man in the face of their silence. “Happily, I know something of it, I believe.  You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits. Yes, hobbits. Don’t stare as if you have never heard the strange name before. You have, and so have I.” He gave another low chuckle. “They climbed up here the day before yesterday, and they met with someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?  And now, you would like to know where they were taken?”
 
The old man was obviously a nut, Erin decided, listening to him prattle on. His gentle admonishments to them belied the strength of power she had seen in him when he disarmed her companions so easily. Nor did he seem worried when Gimli and Legolas picked up their weapons once more.
 
“Well,” continued the old man, his eyes twinkling. “Perhaps I can give you news of that as well, but why are we all standing? Your errand, you see, is no longer as urgent as you thought. Come, let us sit down and be more at ease.” And with that, he sat on a rock behind him, his robes spreading wide with the movement, revealing once more that purely blinding flash of white beneath the gray.
 
“Saruman!” Gimli cried, springing toward the old man with his axe in hand. “Tell us where you have hidden our friends! What have you done with them! Speak! Or I shall make a dint in your hat that even a wizard will find hard to deal with!”
 
The old man was far too quick for Gimli’s strike to reach him. He sprang to his feet with a youthfulness and agility that belied his years and leapt on top of the stone he had been sitting on. His gray rags flung away, and his white garments shone almost too bright to bear.  He raised his staff and Gimli’s axe leaped from his grasp and fell ringing to the ground. 
 
Erin gasped in terror as Aragorn’s sword, which he had held motionless throughout the exchange, blazed suddenly like it had caught on fire. Legolas shouted, firing an arrow high into the air, where it burst into flame.
 
“Mithrandir!” Legolas cried in disbelief and happiness. “Mithrandir!”
 
“Well met, I say to you, Legolas!” replied the old man with a delighted grin.
 
Erin shook her head, her heart hammering wildly in her throat at the sudden turn of events. Legolas acted like the old man was a dear friend of his, and perhaps he was. Yet why the silly act to begin with? She didn’t understand any of it, and she didn’t recognize the name Legolas gave him from the chattering of her friends.  Nothing so far had made sense in this wood.
 
Aragorn and Gimli were acting just as strange, treating the old man like a long lost friend, Gimli struggling to hide the tears in his eyes as he embraced the old man.
 
He was clothed all in white, from his hair to his feet, and he held a wooden staff made of twisted branches in his left hand, embracing Gimli freely with his right.  Erin started when he looked up from Gimli to stare at her, his expression both surprised and curious.
 
“And who is this that travels with you, Aragorn?” the old man asked quietly, his piercing blue gaze making Erin want to bolt away like a scared rabbit.
 
“This is Erin Smith,” Aragorn introduced her, pulling her unwillingly forward to meet the old man. “Erin, this is Gandalf, an old and trusted friend that we had thought dead to us.”
 
“Gandalf?” the old man repeated in surprise. “Gandalf? Yes, I remember I was once called by that name.” A slow smile spread across his face. “Yes, you may still call me that,” he said with a chuckle, turning his attention back to Erin, who was trembling in the soles of her hiking boots.  
 
She recognized the most famous name of all immediately, but it did not ease her fear very much. The old man was powerful, and not necessarily in his right mind, as far as she was concerned, her companions opinions aside.
 
“You are frightened of me, child,” Gandalf admonished lightly, smiling up at her. “It was not my intention to frighten you.” He sighed, reaching out to take her hands, chafing them slightly between his.  “Alas I had forgotten all that I was. But I am not a cruel man, nor an evil one.”
 
Erin nodded, wishing he would release her hands. He seemed to sense her unease and let go of them, his smile growing slightly.

“Can you send me home?” she asked, the question first and foremost on her mind. He was a wizard, after all. If anyone could send her home, he could.

Gandalf looked at her so searchingly that she felt as if her whole life was being laid out on display for him.

“Home, child?” he asked gently. “You are a stranger here to this land, I can see that clearly, yet there may be some part for you to play here that I cannot guess.  The Valar have their reasons for the things they do, and it is not my task to guess at them.”

She’d been afraid he’d say something like that. Typical wizard, she groused inwardly. “Who are the Valar?” she asked curiously. She’d never heard her friends speak of them.

“They control our fates and our destinies,” Gandalf explained simply, not wanting to overwhelm her with more complicated explanation.

“Are they gods?” Erin asked.

“In their own way, I suppose, yes. Yes, you could call them that,” Gandalf replied with a small smile. 

“So you can’t send me home,” she said flatly, desperately trying to rein in her anger and disappointment. It wasn’t Gandalf’s fault she was stuck here. 

“I am afraid not, child,” the old man said, sighing. “Though I wish that I could. You are unprepared for the world here - for although your world has its violence, nothing I think, can compare for the violence to come.”

“The ring thing,” Erin said, remembering a bit more. Her comment made Gandalf smile. 

“Yes, yes. The ring.  But we must not worry about it, for its fate is no longer in our hands.”  His kindly features grew sad as he regarded her close. “The battle against evil has already begun.”

Erin stepped back, feeling as if someone had punched her in the stomach. From Gandalf’s words, something incredibly bad was on its way, something far worse than the pile of dead Orcs outside these woods.  And she was still stuck here.

They saw her face turn a pale shade of green before she dropped to her knees, her back facing them as she dry heaved on the leaves of the forest floor.

Chapter 3
 
He makes that look so easy, Erin groused, holding her sore stomach as she watched Aragorn build a fire.  After she had finished throwing up, or rather, dry-heaving, since there was nothing left in her stomach to throw up, Gandalf had suggested that they rest for the evening, and perhaps have a bite of food.  It was the best idea Erin had heard all day, except for maybe the food part. She wasn’t sure if she should eat anything, considering that she had just thrown up twice in less than two hours.  Maybe it was a reaction to being dropped into this godforsaken world totally unequipped to deal with anything.
 
She felt totally useless.
 
Nothing in her life as a college student had prepared her for this, and she found herself resenting the Valar, whoever they were, for dumping her here. What had they been thinking? It didn’t make any sense to her. They could have picked someone with some decent camping skills at least she thought irritably.
 
Legolas returned with an armful of brush, dropping it beside the fire that Aragorn had started, and cast a glance in her direction, his brows drawn with concern.
 
Erin sighed, looking away from his concerned face.  He was far too beautiful an elf – and waaay the hell out of her league, even if he’d been a man, for her to even entertain any kind of romantic notion about him.  
 
She had no pretenses when it came to her looks. She was pretty standard, in her opinion. She was not very tall, a modest five-foot four, but not delicately petite either. She didn’t have dainty bones or skin as pale as moonlight. Her hair was fairly straight, falling in a dark brown curtain to just past her shoulders, and currently very tangled.  Her eyes were unremarkable, in her opinion: just plain brown. And while her figure wasn’t terrible, neither was it anything that would cause men’s jaws to drop open in appreciation. She’d never stopped traffic with her modest C-cup breasts, and her hips, in her opinion, were far too wide.  She didn’t even want to think about her butt.
 
“What is it that you think about?” Legolas asked, sitting down beside her on the log.
 
Erin definitely did not want to answer his question truthfully. So she came up with a plausible lie instead. “Why I’m here,” she said, turning to look at him.
 
Legolas smiled. “It is a good a question as any,” he replied, shrugging gracefully. “I too, wonder what your purpose here is to be.”
 
“It’s not like I’m good for much of anything,” Erin couldn’t help but grumble. “I think there must have been a mistake up in the halls of the Valar,” she attempted to joke.
 
Legolas shook his head. “Do not say that, Lady. The Valar are very wise. They will reveal your purpose to you when the time comes.”
 
Erin sighed, wishing briefly that her purpose was to fall in love with the beautiful elf next to her and save him somehow from some dreadful fate.  That’s a bit much, she snorted silently. Good grief.
 
“As for being good for something, I supposed any of us could teach you useful skills while you are here,” Legolas continued thoughtfully, oblivious to her inner dialog.  He glanced at her, hazel eyes twinkling with merriment. “Would that suffice?”
 
Erin nodded, interest perking her up out of her gloomy thoughts. “That would be great,” she said. “Because all my talents lie in modern things. This was my first camping trip, can you believe it?”
 
Legolas carefully avoided answering. Instead he replied. “You have done well so far, considering how strange this must all be to you.”
 
“Buddy, you have no idea,” Erin snickered softly. “This is the weirdest, most unbelievable thing to have ever happened in my entire life. I still have a hard time believing I’m really here, and not snoring in my tent back in the woods.”  She glanced sideways at him and smiled. “Things like this just don’t happen in my world.”
 
“Ah, Lady, but things like that surely must happen in your world,” Gandalf said, having overheard the last part of their discussion.  At Erin’s expression of confusion, he elaborated. “Surely you have had people come up missing, never to be found?”
 
“Well, yeah, of course, but they usually blame them on murderers who are really creative about hiding the bodies,” Erin replied.
 
“Always?” he pressed, raising a bushy white eyebrow.
 
Erin thought a moment, considering his question seriously. “Well, no, not always. There’s a place called the Bermuda Triangle where people have disappeared without any trace.  But that’s in the middle of the ocean, so they could have just crashed or sank beneath the water.”
 
Gandalf shook his head. “Such skepticism for one so young in years,” he chided, pulling his pipe out of his pocket and filling it from his pouch. “You surprise me, Lady.  I would have thought you more open minded, considering your current situation.”
 
Erin watched him light his pipe, blowing smoke rings with evident satisfaction.
 
“All right, say you’re right, and people disappear from my world without being killed or sunk beneath the sea.” She felt Legolas stiffen slightly at the word and looked at him questioningly. He shook his head for her to continue. “Are you saying, Gandalf, that they end up here?”
 
The Wizard regarded her with his ancient eyes and smiled. “Not necessarily, young Lady. But it is possible, would you not agree?”
 
Erin smiled at his reasoning. “Yes, I would have to agree, wouldn’t I, considering the circumstances.”  She felt Legolas chuckle beside her.
 
“I remember hearing something strange like that,” Gimli offered from his seat next to the fire, where he was carefully cleaning his axe. “My uncle Oin used to tell a tale of a strange man who fell out of the sky and landed without harm on the ground.  He wore a strange contraption on his back that caught the winds, he said, and kept the man from crashing to the earth.  Oin said the man was quite frightened and confused as to where he was, and eventually ran off into the wilderness.”
 
Erin’s interest was piqued, and she looked across the fire at Gimli. “Did they find out the man’s name?” she asked.
 
Gimli stopped cleaning for a moment, his heavy brow furrowed in thought. “Eebee, no, no that is not it.” He thought a moment longer. “Deebee, deebee something or other.” He smiled apologetically. “I am sorry, Lass. My memory fails me.”
 
Erin shook her head, but had to ask anyway. “It wasn’t Cooper, was it? D.B. Cooper?”
 
“Aye! Lass, that’s it!  Deebee Cooper. A strange name for a strange man indeed.”  Gimli chuckled softly, picking up his smaller throwing axe and beginning to clean it. “He carried with him a bag of green paper that he would not let go of.”
 
Gandalf was regarding Erin closely. “You recognize Gimli’s tale?”
 
Erin nodded, wrapping her arms around her knees and hugging them to her chest. “He disappeared in my world – after skyjacking an airplane full of people and threatening to blow them up if they didn’t give him a bunch of money.  He got his money, and took another plane out into the southwestern part of the country, and jumped out of it with a parachute. No one ever saw or heard from him again.”
 
Looking around, Erin realized that she had lost her audience during her explanation. “An airplane is a machine that flies up in the sky and carries people safely from one place to another, very quickly.”
 
Aragorn’s eyes widened briefly. “That would be a handy thing indeed to have here,” he mused, looking at Gandalf. “We could have brought the Ring Bearer to Mount Doom much faster that way.”
 
“What is sky jacking?” Legolas asked curiously. 
 
“It means he stole the plane and the people on it, so to speak,” Erin explained.
 
“Ah, the man was a pirate,” Gimli said, shaking his head. “'Tis good that my people were rid of him as quickly, then.”
 
Erin had to agree in his assessment. Cooper fit the description of a modern-day pirate quite well.
 
“So, do you believe me when I tell you that you were brought here a’ purpose?” Gandalf asked her quietly, tapping his pipe against the edge of a rock to empty it.
 
“I guess so,” Erin admitted, still not liking it. “I just wish I knew what it was.”  She looked down at her grimy hands and grimaced. “My family will be worried when I don’t report for class on Monday.”
 
“I am sorry for that,” Gandalf replied softly. “I truly wish there was something I could do, but returning you to your home-world is indeed beyond my power.”
 
Feeling gloomy, Erin got up from her seat, heading for her pack to set up her tent.  She did not feel like sleeping under the stars, and she wanted the privacy of her tent so she could cry herself to sleep.
 
Legolas watched the miraculous process he and Aragorn had observed earlier when they first met Erin reverse itself as Erin pulled the folded poles out of their small carrying sack and unfolded them. He was on his feet and helping her before he realized it, fascinated by the whole procedure.  He helped her hold the floppy material as she inserted the poles into their sleeves, pushing them across the top until they came out the other side, and then repeated the process with the second one, until the tent took its dome-like shape.  She tapped the small stakes at the corners with the rock that Legolas handed her, and he was rewarded with a small smile for his efforts. He could tell she was feeling badly, and though it was understandable, he wished he knew how to erase the sadness he saw on her face.  For the most part, Legolas was a creature of joy and merriment; even at the darkest of times, he could usually find something to lift his spirits.  He struggled with the right thing to say to this strange human woman from another world, something that would lighten her expression.
 
The tent was set up quickly, thanks to Legolas’ help, and Erin sat back on her heels, contemplating the pink and gray nylon in front of her, seeing how incongruous it looked in the gloom of the Fangorn trees.  She realized that Legolas was sitting silently beside her, contemplating the tent as well, and she smiled faintly.
 
“’Tis a sturdier construction than the thin material would have me believe,” Legolas commented, running his fingers over the shiny nylon.  “Does it withstand the weather?”
 
“The rain, yes. The wind, if it’s not too strong. But it doesn’t keep out the cold.”
 
Legolas looked sharply at her, but her face was turned away, pensive and closed.
 
“How do you stay warm in it, then?” he asked curiously.
 
The corner of her mouth lifted in a half smile and she turned to look at him. “That’s what the sleeping bag is for,” she replied, trying to ignore his closeness. Only in my dreams, she thought, shivering slightly.
 
Legolas saw her shiver and thought her cold. Smoothly he unfastened the cloak he wore over his shoulders and settled it over her own, rubbing her shoulders lightly to smooth the material.  
 
“Sleep well, Lady Erin,” he said softly, rising from his knees. “Your slumber will be well guarded.”
 
“Good night, Legolas,” she replied, watching the tall and graceful form return to the firelight. She caught Gandalf looking at her and waved, calling a louder goodnight for the rest her companions, before crawling into the privacy of her tent and zipping the flap closed.
 
She quickly shucked off her boots, leaving her socks on to stay. Although they were stiff from being damp and drying, not to mention sweaty and probably smelly, she kept them on for additional warmth. Carefully she removed the gray cloak Legolas had given her, briefly reliving the moment when his hands had rubbed her back with acknowledged weakness. Smiling ruefully, she crawled into her sleeping bag, folding his cloak beneath her cheek so she could still catch the scent that clung to it, and closed her eyes. 
 
~ * ~
 
Aragorn accepted the pipe from Gandalf and inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke curl within his lungs. A slow and growing warmth spread through his bones and he exhaled, not bothering with the fancier smoke rings that the Wizard favored. He handed the pipe back to Gandalf, wrapping his cloak tighter around him to fight the chill, biting breeze that blew occasionally from the east.  His blue eyes focused on the fire, watching the yellow and orange flames flicker over the wood as it burned.
 
Gimli snored somewhere off to his right, but the ranger did not begrudge the dwarf his well-earned rest. He had pushed his friend hard this day, and Gimli had never grumbled – well, not loud enough for Aragorn to hear him, anyway. He turned his head to search for Legolas, and found the elf leaning against the log he and their strange ward had been sitting on earlier, his dark eyes glazed in reverie.  Even in rest, Legolas’ hands held his bow, and his knives were well within reach should he need to awaken suddenly.
 
Aragorn smiled, remembering the slightly reproachful look Legolas had given him when he had handed Erin over to the elf to carry.  For such a fierce warrior, the elf was strangely tender-hearted at times, although he did not usually reveal that side of him to those who were not close to him.  Aragorn’s own feelings towards Erin were a mixture of irritation, frustration, and admiration for her strength of spirit. Despite everything that had happened to her, she had not quailed, nor had she shown anything but her backbone to him, even to the point of pushing him to anger. He regretted loosing his temper with her, for he was usually a fair minded, even-tempered man. He hoped she realized he had only done what he felt was right at the time, and would not hold it against him. The necessity of their forced partnership made it important for her to trust him, and he hoped his earlier actions would not prevent that from happening. He did not expect it immediately, for she hardly knew any of them. However, he could see that she had given them at least a token amount of trust, for she allowed them to guard her sleep without protest.
 
He felt Gandalf’s regard and pulled back from his thoughts, accepting the pipe from his old friend once more.  It was miraculous to him that Gandalf sat beside him right now, yet somehow, not unexpected, for the wizard was always far more than he seemed.  Yet to have him return to life, as Gandalf the White, filled him with joy and no small amount of relief. He had felt lost without the wizard, and had done the best he could to guide the rest of the fellowship, yet he could not help the sense of failure when it came to Frodo’s departure, and Boromir’s death.
 
“Your thoughts trouble you, Aragorn, I can see that plainly,” the wizard spoke gruffly from beside him, watching his friend take a puff from his pipe before accepting it back from him.
 
Aragorn smiled faintly in the flickering shadows of the campfire. “Aye, Gandalf,” he said softly. “I have missed your wisdom these past weeks.”
 
The wizard snorted, lifting a bushy white eyebrow. “It seems you did well enough without it, my friend, for here you are, alive and whole, with another journey yet at hand.”
 
Aragorn watched the lazy smoke rings Gandalf blew float across the campsite to nestle in Gimli’s beard. “Boromir’s death haunts me,” he said finally, his eyes turning back to the fire. “As does Frodo’s leaving.” He turned his head to look at the wizard, who’s face remained impassive. “I did not wish to desert him, for his journey will be more fraught with peril than ever before, yet I could not leave Merry and Pippin to pain and torment if I could prevent it.”
 
“You want to know if you made the right decision?” Gandalf asked, looking sharply at the man who would one day be King of Men.  He shook his head. “I cannot tell you if your decision was right or wrong, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. It is yours alone to decide, and none others.”
 
Aragorn dropped his head into his hands, feeling the weight of his impending crown settle on his brow more firmly.
 
“Yet if proof is what you seek, that your decision was the right one, look you there,” Gandalf said quietly.
 
Aragorn lifted his head and looked, his gaze following where the wizard pointed, resting finally on the odd, dome shaped tent at the edge of their camp.  He looked at the wizard in surprise, causing the other to smile.
 
“She is here, and you were meant to find her, I think, for what reason, I do not know. Yet had you gone with Frodo and Sam, she may have met her death at the hands of the orc who found her sleeping unaware.”
 
Aragorn nodded, his mouth twitching briefly in a smile. “She frightened him off with a beam of light, shouting at him to ‘go away’.”
 
“Really?” the wizard exclaimed, puffing on his pipe. “How delightful.”
 
~ * ~
 
Legolas felt the light tap on his shoulder and was instantly awake, moving easily to his feet. Aragorn moved back from the elf with a quick smile and retired to his bedroll, looking forward to getting some rest and relieved that his watch had ended.
 
Leaning against the log beside Erin’s tent, Legolas’ eyes scanned the area, all his senses alert as he kept guard over his sleeping companions. He did not truly expect anything to disturb their rest, and neither did the others, but none of them were willing to forgo the watch, even in the sanctuary of the Fangorn. 
 
The moon rose high above him, lighting the small camp area with a soft glow that Legolas enjoyed. He could hear the sounds of the nocturnal animals in the forest, birds, insects, and other creatures foraging for food and going about their lives in harmony with their surroundings.  Despite his earlier forebodings, Legolas found the Fangorn to be beautiful.
 
He heard Gimli snore and smiled, despite the rattling nature of it. He was glad to hear his friend resting peacefully. He looked for Aragorn, and saw he too, was asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. If Gandalf slept, Legolas could not tell, for the wizard slept in the manner of elves, with both eyes open. 
 
A muffled sound caught his attention and he stiffened instantly, all senses alert for danger. His ears tracked the source of it and he relaxed slightly – it was coming from Erin’s tent.  The sound was quiet, stifled somehow, and it took him several moments of keen listening before he understood what he was hearing.
 
Erin was crying in her tent.
 
Troubled, Legolas cast a glance back at his slumbering companions, uncertain if he should leave her alone to her grief, or offer comfort to her. If she had been another elf, he would not have hesitated, but she was human, and humans were notoriously prickly when it came to such things. He considered what he knew of her briefly, remembering her embarrassment when she had been sick at the field of Orcs, her anger at Aragorn’s rough handling, and the quiet strength and determination he had seen flare in her eyes. No closer to a decision, he listened to her softly cry, and felt his heart moved by pity. He could well understand her grief – imagining how he would feel if suddenly taken from everything he knew and thrust into unknown danger with equally unknown companions.  
 
The latter thought prompted him into action, and he moved silently to the entrance of her tent and rapped softly on it.
 
“Are you well, Erin?” Legolas called quietly, pitching his voice low so as not to wake the others.
 
He sensed startled movement within the tent. Her crying had ceased the moment he spoke.
 
“I’m fine,” her voice came, odd and husky sounding from her crying. “Please, go away.”  He could hear the heartbreak in her voice, and it cut at him as surely as if she wielded a knife instead of words.  He sat silently outside her tent, waiting for her to speak again, uncertain of what he should do.  He heard her sigh, and the strange ripping sound of the ‘zipper’ opening on the flap. 
 
Erin poked her head out of the opening and looked blurrily at the handsome elf who crouched in front of her tent. Her hair was mussed, and her eyes were swollen from weeping, and she knew she looked awful, yet there was such compassion in the dark eyes that steadily regarded her that she ignored her appearance, such as it was, and accepted the hand that he offered her, helping her step out of her tent.
 
Legolas looked at her face with concern, seeing the wetness of her cheeks, even as she wiped at them with her fingers. He pulled her to the log and sat her down beside him, still holding her hand loosely in his.
 
“Why do you weep, mellonamin?” he asked softly, brushing the tear she had missed from her grubby cheek with his thumb. 
 
Erin sighed, so full of conflicting emotions that she didn’t know where to begin. She was aware of his hand holding hers, as well as the press of his leg against her thigh. She fought the urge to lean into him, even when he touched her cheek briefly to wipe away the evidence of her grief.
 
“Pick a reason, Legolas,” she replied finally, looking at her fingers.
 
“You are sad,” he answered, prompting a weak chuckle from her.
 
“Well, yes.” She smiled briefly at him, admiring the way the moonlight haloed his hair. “I’m tired, I’m sore from running, and I’m filthy from head to toe, for a start.”  She felt the comforting press of his fingers against hers, so she continued. “I’m a long way from everyone and everything I know, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to return.”
 
He nodded encouragingly for her to continue.
 
She shook her head. “That’s about it, really. That’s the important stuff, anyway.”  Her stomach growled, startling them both and she smirked briefly. “And I’m hungry.”
 
Legolas smiled, patting her hand with his other one before releasing it. “That is something I can help with, I think,” he said, reaching into his tunic. 
 
Erin watched with curiosity as he pulled out a square shaped package, wrapped in a large green leaf and opened it, handing her a triangular shaped wedge.  She took it gingerly from him, turning it over to examine it in the moonlight.
 
“It’s Lembas,” he explained. “Elvish way-bread. One bite will fill the stomach of a man for a day.”  He watched her eye it curiously, then finally take a small nibble off the corner of it.  He was amused by the way her face lit up at the taste of it as she chewed.  He handed her his waterbag without a word and she took a drink, washing the dry and crumbly bread down.
 
Erin took another drink of the water and handed it back to Legolas, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, which she noticed was well-beyond grubby, and sighed.  The Lembas had been good – the texture of it reminded her of a cross between a croissant and baklava, both heavy and light at the same time. She felt it hit her empty stomach and felt better almost immediately. She tugged at the filthy sleeves of her favorite sweatshirt, wishing she had some way to clean it. She just hoped she didn’t smell too bad.
 
“Thank you,” she said, watching him scan the area of their campsite. “I feel better now.”
 
“Good,” came his soft reply as he satisfied himself that all was well. “You should try to sleep now. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
 
“Where are we going now?”
 
“To Edoras, to return the horses that Éomer lent us, and to seek an audience with the King of the Riddermark,” Legolas answered, watching the stars wink above them. “Aragorn and Gandalf hope to warn them of Saruman’s treachery.”
 
“And after that?” she asked with trepidation.
 
Legolas looked away from the view of the stars and glanced at her, seeing the fright on her face. 
 
“I do not know, Erin,” he replied softly, with a slight shake of his head. “Go to sleep now.  It will be morning soon enough.”
 
Erin nodded sleepily and left him to crawl back into her tent, zipping the flap closed behind her, silently berating herself for her body’s reaction to Legolas’.  If she wasn’t careful, she was going to develop a full blown crush on the beautiful elf, and end up with a painfully broken heart. 
 
Who am I trying to kid, she snorted to herself as she stripped off her filthy sweatshirt and tossed it in the corner of her tent. I already like him more than I should, and could probably fall in love with him without half-trying.  Her grimy pants came off just as quickly, and she tossed them on top of her sweatshirt, reaching into her pack for the jeans and sweater she had worn hiking.  They were still slightly damp, but she figured her body heat would help dry them out quick enough. At least they were clean and didn’t smell.  She changed her socks for her only other pair, and crawled into her sleeping bag, reaching for Legolas’ cloak to pillow her head. 
 
It smelled of woodsmoke, grass, and earthy things, but underneath the smell was the faint spicy odor she’d come to associate with the elf himself, having had more than plenty of opportunities to smell him up close after spending a good portion of her day slung over his shoulder.  Closing her eyes, she briefly indulged in a hopeless fantasy where Legolas was kissing her, but she couldn’t quite imagine how his lips would feel against hers. I bet they’re soft, softer than his hair, but firm and strong.  Erin sighed, irritated with herself for giving in, and firmly pushed all romantic notions aside.  She would simply have to content herself with being a friend, and nothing more.  Besides, she thought sleepily as she turned over in her sleeping bag, you just got over having your heart torn to itty-bitty pieces.  The last thing you need is a hopeless romance.
 
~ * ~
 
Aragorn tapped on the side of the tent for the third time, his irritation evident in the scowl on his handsome face.
 
“Erin!” he called loudly. “Get up!”
 
“Yes, I’m up, I’m up already!” came the irritable reply. “Give me a second.”
 
He sighed, pushing his frustration aside. “The others are already up and have eaten. We are waiting for you.”
 
The flap to the tent opened with the familiar ripping sound and she stepped out, looking sheepish. “I guess I’m not used to getting up with the chickens.”  She smiled apologetically at Aragorn. “I’ll be ready in a minute. I just need to pack up.”
 
“Be quick,” he replied shortly rising to his feet.
 
He missed her look of irritation at his bossy manner as he strode away.
 
Aragorn bent to tend to the fire, muttering under his breath. He saw that Gimli was strapping his axe to his back, and Gandalf was having a final smoke before they left. He looked around, but did not see the elf.
 
“Where is Legolas?”
 
The elf dropped out of the tree across from them and grinned. “Here, mellonen,” he replied. 
 
Aragorn raised an eyebrow at his friend’s obvious good humor, and proceeded to smother the coals of their fire with several handfuls of dirt.
 
“Do not be angry with her, Aragorn,” Legolas said, moving over to crouch easily beside the ranger. “’Tis my fault she overslept, I believe. She woke during my watch and we talked for a bit. I should have sent her back to her bed much sooner.” 
 
Aragorn looked up from his task at the elf, then glanced quickly over to where Erin was dismantling her tent, his irritation fading. “How was she?” he asked softly, fighting not to smile when he saw her struggle with the poles.
 
Legolas’ eyes were watching her as well, and the smile faded from his face.
 
“Sad,” he replied, his voice low pitched for Aragorn’s ears alone. “She cries in her sleep.”
 
Aragorn nodded, brushing the dust from his hands and standing. “Help her finish packing. We need to get moving.”  He watched Legolas move gracefully across to where Erin was working, and turned to Gimli with a teasing grin.
 
“Well, Master Dwarf, are you ready yet or do you require more rest?”
 
Gimli scowled in mock irritation. “I was ready before you were born, young pup!” he growled, his brown eyes glinting in humor. 
 
Aragorn laughed, clapping his friend on his stout shoulders. “I do not doubt that, Gimli, son of Gloin.”
 
Erin looked up at Aragorn’s laugh and frowned, glancing over at Legolas who was folding the poles the way she had showed him. “He seems to be in a better mood,” she said irritably.
 
The elf nodded, stowing the poles in the bag with the folded up tent. “Aye. His heart is much lighter now that he knows that Merry and Pippin are safe.”
 
Erin handed him his cloak, feeling suddenly shy, although he accepted it without comment, twirling it quickly over his shoulders and fastening it with the leaf-clasp at his throat.   She took the tent from him and stuffed it into her pack, zipping it shut. Grabbing the straps, she heaved it onto her shoulders with a wince. “This thing gets heavier the more I carry it, I swear.”
 
Legolas laughed. “You will grow used to the burdens you carry,” he said lightly, tucking a tangled knot of hair behind her ear. “They will grow lighter each day.”  
 
She really wished he wouldn’t touch her like that, because it made it difficult for her to breathe every time he did it. “If you say so,” she replied tartly, turning away so he couldn’t see her struggle to maintain her composure. “Did I miss breakfast?”
 
Legolas was puzzled by her sudden change in behavior, but didn’t know if he should remark on it. Instead, he answered her question.
 
“Yes, but Aragorn will let you eat something before we leave.”
 
Erin snorted, following the tall elf to where the others were waiting. “That’s awfully nice of him.”  She nearly crashed into Legolas when he stopped and spun around, frowning at her.
 
“Aragorn does not deserve your anger, Erin. Nor has he done anything to earn it,” the elf reprimanded her, his soft voice full of steel. “He would be your friend and protector, if you would but let him.”
 
Abashed, she dropped her head in embarrassment, but Legolas would not let her look away. He lifted her chin with his fingers and made her look at him, his hazel eyes serious. “Your pride was hurt, nothing more. Do not let that become an issue between you.  Your anger does you both a great disservice, and does not become you.”
 
She blinked back the tears that had formed in her eyes, pulling her face away from his grasp.  He watched her wipe at them surreptitiously with the sleeve of her sweater without comment.
 
“I’m sorry, Legolas,” she said finally. “You’re right.”
 
“I am not the one you should apologize to,” he replied, and turned away from her.  
 
Darned elf, she sniffed, watching him walk away. He was right, of course. Her pride had been hurt by Aragorn’s treatment, but she knew at the time she’d been acting unreasonable, even though it galled her to admit it. She wasn’t in her world anymore, and she needed to start acting like it.  There were far more dangerous things here to worry about than to waste time and energy being angry with someone who was only trying to help her. 
 
Shifting her pack slightly, she trudged to where the others waited, well aware that they all watched her approach.
 
“I’m sorry I overslept,” she said to Aragorn immediately. “I’ll try not to do it again.”
 
Aragorn smiled briefly. “I will have Gimli wake you next time – he bellows louder.”  He looked her up and down, noting the change of clothing. “Are you ready?”
 
“If Legolas has some of that Lembas left,” she asked, glancing tentatively at the elf, “I’ll be ready in a bite and a swallow.”
 
“You can have some of mine,” Gimli offered her the wrapped leaf. “Though it is sustenance, ‘tis not satisfying to the palate of a dwarf.”  He glanced at Legolas and grinned. “We need something more substantial to keep our spirits lifted.”
 
“Aye, Master Dwarf,” Legolas replied with a light laugh. “Ale and red meat. You’ll have that soon enough at Meduseld, if we are welcomed there.”
 
The mood was lighter as Erin ate her quick breakfast, washing it down with a sips of water from her own water bottle, filled from the tap at her apartment. The taste of the water was so familiar it nearly brought tears to her eyes, and she hastily stuffed it into her pack, not wanting the others to see the battle she fought against her homesickness.
 
Following Gandalf, the five of them reached the edge of the Fangorn within half an hour, if Erin’s watch was still accurate.  The horses of Rohan, Arod and Hasufel, looked up from their grazing with interest as the party approached them.
 
“We have only these two,” Aragorn said, catching them easily. “Our pace will be slow, for one of us will have to walk.”
 
Gandalf chuckled, raising a bushy eyebrow at the ranger. “Oh really?” he said, and then let out a long and piercing whistle.
 
Arod and Hasufel’s ears pricked up at the sound, turning their heads to answer the whinny that floated over the hills.
 
Erin gasped, unable to help herself as the most beautiful horse she had ever seen came galloping swiftly towards them. She was no expert on horses at all, but the animal was majestic, powerful and graceful, its ground eating strides so fluid it almost appeared to be flying over the grass.
 
“I have never seen his like before,” Aragorn breathed in awe beside Gandalf, watching the horse approach.  The others were likewise affected.
 
“Nor will you again, I wager,” Gandalf replied. “That is Shadowfax, chief of the Mearas, the lords of horses. Not even Théoden King of Rohan has ever looked upon better.”
 
He shone like silver in the sunlight, his dappled coat glistening and rippling as his muscles moved smoothly beneath it.  Erin held her breath as Shadowfax approached Gandalf, slowing to a walk and bending his proud neck to greet the wizard.
 
“Hello my old friend,” the wizard said fondly, rubbing the soft nose. “You have my thanks for coming so swiftly.”  With a graceful move that belied his years, Gandalf leaped upon the stallion’s back, his right hand gripping the mane and balancing his staff across his knees with his left.  He sat easily upon Shadowfax, without saddle or reins to guide him.  He grinned down at their startled expressions, enjoying himself immensely. “Now, shall we go?”
 
Legolas helped Gimli aboard Arod once more, vaulting into the saddle with ease and grace that Erin envied. He made it look so very easy, sitting astride the animal like he was merely an extension of it.
 
Aragorn laced his fingers together, forming a step for Erin, helping her to mount Hasufel.  He swung on behind her, his left arm automatically reaching around her middle to help secure her.  The moment he had her settled, he urged Hasufel forward, following behind Gandalf as the wizard led them across the plains towards the capital of Rohan, Legolas and Gimli following close on their heels.

Chapter 4
 
“How far are we from Edoras?” Erin asked, clenching her teeth as each jarring stride of the horse bumped her painfully against the saddle. 
 
“Two days at this pace,” Aragorn replied, his voice close to her ear. “Why do you ask?”
 
“Because I don’t think I’m going to be able to get off this horse when we stop. I can’t feel my legs, and my butt feels like it’s going to fall off.”
 
She felt him chuckle behind her and had to smile. 
 
“I’m sorry, Aragorn,” she said when his chuckles subsided.  He didn’t answer right away, and she wondered if he’d heard her apology, so she tried again. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you – you were only trying to help me, and I was being stubborn.”
 
She felt his sigh, a warm breath of wind against her ear.
 
“It is I who must apologize, lady, for treating you the way I did.  It was uncalled for.”
 
She twisted slightly in the saddle, no easy feat on a galloping horse, and turned her head so she could see his face. He was, naturally, watching where they were going, but she caught his eye briefly.
 
“Maybe, maybe not,” she replied. “You did what you felt was necessary, and I appreciate the fact that you were doing it to save my hide.”  She faced forward once more, watching the scenery flash by them.  “I don’t hold it against you.”
 
He was quiet for a few moments, and she felt a gentle squeeze from his arm around her middle. 
 
“The men of your world must be quite different.”
 
A snort escaped her. “You could say that.  The world I live in is different than yours, so of course the people who live there are different.”
 
“I take it the women of your world are much more independent?” he asked curiously, wondering if the traits he had seen in her were common.  He felt her shrug.
 
“Depending on which country you’re in,” she replied. “I live in a country called America, and yes, the women are fairly independent and have worked hard to be that way. In other countries, it isn’t that way at all.”
 
“Do you have a husband?” 
 
He felt her stiffen at the question. 
 
“No,” she said shortly, without elaborating, and he wondered at it. She was easily the age that women married, he thought. Her body was firm and pleasing to the eye, and her face, under the dirt, hinted at her fairness.
 
“Why not?”
 
Erin bit her lip, not liking the way the conversation was headed. The last thing she wanted to talk about was her break-up with her fiancé, a man she had dated for four years and trusted with her heart, body, and soul. It still galled her bitterly that he had been dating someone else for the last two years of their relationship, a fact she hadn’t discovered until he’d finally broken off their engagement.
 
“I don’t want to talk about it, Aragorn,” she said finally, her voice tight.
 
He heard the pain in her voice and let the matter drop. They rode in silence, the only sound was Hasufel’s hoofs drumming a cadence against the ground as they each fell to their own thoughts.
 
“What about you?”
 
Aragorn jerked out of the reverie he had fallen into, realizing she had asked him a question.
 
“Hmm?”
 
“Are you married?” Erin asked, honestly curious.
 
Aragorn smiled at the question. “I have a lady,” he replied. “We are not yet married.”
 
Erin grinned, hearing the sudden warmth in his voice. “But you will be?”
 
He chuckled. “If she will still have me when the day is done.”
 
“So long as you don’t go throwing her over your shoulder, I think you’re pretty safe,” Erin couldn’t resist teasing.
 
“Hmmph,” came the reply, tickling her ear.
 
~ * ~
 
Aragorn pulled her from the saddle and set her gently on the ground, were upon she promptly fell on her butt, her tortured legs refusing to hold her up.
 
I’ll never be able to walk again, she thought as her leg muscles cramped painfully. She looked crossly up at Aragorn, who had the nerve to grin.
 
“You’ve crippled me, you heartless bully!”  Erin struggled to get to her feet, only to fall back again with a groan.
 
Hearing her comment, Legolas looked over sharply from where he was unsaddling Arod, wondering if the tension between the two was still there. He was relieved to see that they were both in fairly good humor, despite Erin’s obvious discomfort.
 
“Aye, lass, I feel your pain,” Gimli commiserated with her. “Short legs were never meant to straddle a beast as broad as that.”
 
Erin looked at the dwarf in astonishment, and then, to everyone’s surprise, burst out laughing. 
 
Gandalf’s lips twitched briefly as he watched her laugh. Like the others, he did not understand the source of her sudden merriment, but enjoyed seeing it nonetheless.  
 
Aragorn left her, still chuckling on the ground, and unsaddled Hasufel, turning the horse loose to graze with Arod and Shadowfax in the grass nearby. 
 
The place they had chosen camp for the night was open, surrounded only by waving grassland, but positioned high enough that they could see the area around them for miles. Nothing would be able to sneak up on them here, so long as they kept careful watch, and Aragorn hoped that the night would prove as uneventful as the previous one.
 
They did not build a fire that evening.  It would attract attention, most likely unwanted attention, Gandalf explained to Erin, as it would be visible for miles, a beacon of light when darkness fell.
 
It was colder out on the plains, Erin noted, shivering slightly as a particularly cold wind nipped the back of her neck. She wondered what the seasons were like here, and if they were even the same as back home, deciding, if the opportunity arose, to ask Gandalf. 
 
Her pack was by the saddles, and she retrieved it, looking for a relatively flat spot to set up her tent for the evening, when Aragorn stopped her.
 
“It will not rain tonight,” he said, taking the bag that held her tent from her and placing it next to the saddles.  “It would be best if you did not use your tent tonight.”
 
Erin frowned, not happy with the thought of sleeping in the open. “Why?”
 
Aragorn quirked an eyebrow at her in surprise. “Several reasons, lady.  If we are attacked at night, you would slow us down, waiting for you to get out of it. It might also be visible, sticking up above the grasslands.”
 
Sighing, she nodded, pushing the hair that had blown into her face out of her eyes irritably. “Makes sense,” she agreed. “That wouldn’t have occurred to me.”
 
Aragorn’s eyes twinkled, but his expression remained serious. “It will also be harder for you to oversleep.”
 
She scowled at him. “Does your lady know you’re so bossy?” she grouched, causing him to chuckle.
 
“Aye, I expect she does.”
 
Dinner, thankfully, was not Lembas.  Erin was proud to contribute her remaining packets of freeze-dried food to the cause, and delighted in amazing them with her small sterno camp stove.  Between the reconstituted beef stew, stale bread and warm cheese, they ate their fill, Legolas tossing each of them an apple for dessert. It was simple food, but tasted good, flavored by hunger.
 
Erin leaned back, stretching her sore muscles, wishing once again she’d thought to pack some Tylenol.  She was going to be sore tomorrow.
 
“Aragorn tells me you know something of this world, Erin,” Gandalf said from his place across from her, the smoke from his pipe curling around his head. “Would you speak of it?”
 
“I know very little, actually, but I’ll tell you what I know,” she said, folding her hands across her full stomach and taking a moment to think.  “In my world, what is happening right now, the whole ring thing and the dark lord what’s-his-name, is nothing but a story. A work of fiction written by a man named Tolkien a long time before I was born.”
 
“A story, you say?” Gandalf replied, his bushy white eyebrow raising slightly. “Interesting. Go on.”
 
“It’s a really popular story, I mean, so many people have read these books. And now they are making a movie out of the first one.”  She saw the puzzled looks on their faces and hastened to explain. “A movie is a picture that moves and has sound. People go to them to be entertained.”
 
“Like a play?” Aragorn asked, looking up from sharpening his sword.
 
Erin nodded. “Kind of. Only its not live – I mean, the people are just pictures that move on a screen. It’s hard to explain, but you get the general idea?”  
 
The wizard nodded encouragingly, so she continued. “Anyway, like I was saying, it’s a story that most people know. A couple of my friends are total fans and have read the books over and over.”
 
“But you have not?” Gandalf asked quietly.
 
She shook her head. “Now I wished I had, at least I’d have some idea what was going to happen. But I only read a little of the first book – to the part where the Fellowship leaves Rivendell.  I know from my friends a little bit more – like I know Frodo and Sam have left on their own, and that they’ll run into Gollum eventually. I know that there will be a huge battle in the end against the bad guys and, at least according to the books, the good guys win.”  She turned to look at Aragorn and gave him a brief smile. “I know you will be King.”
 
Aragorn’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully and he gave her a brief nod.
 
“According to the story?” the wizard said, tapping his pipe on the ground and emptying it.
 
“Yes.”
 
Gandalf looked up at her, his gaze sharp. “And is there any mention, in this story, of a woman from your world?”
 
Erin shook her head. “Of course not.”  Her eyes widened slightly as the wizard continued to regard her, his expression serious. “Oh my god,” she said, feeling the blood drain from her face. “If the books are somehow based on your reality, then I’m messing everything up!”
 
The wizard nodded once. “You are like a pebble that has been tossed into a still pond. Your presence here will create ripples, no doubt. Therefore we cannot expect that what happens in your story will for certain happen here.”
 
Erin covered her face with her hands, feeling sick as the implications hit her. What if her presence here ruined their chances of succeeding in defeating the enemy?  What if she said the wrong thing at the wrong time and changed the course of events that would have happened naturally?
 
Gandalf saw her shoulders tremble, her face buried in her hands.  “Do not worry,” he said kindly. “For I still feel that there is a purpose for you being here, books or no books.”
 
Aragorn slid his sword back into its scabbard and nodded. “Aye. Perhaps this Tolkien you speak of does not know our true story. I for one do not place my faith in the events of a book from another world.  I will put my trust in the things that I know, and the things I have learned.”
 
Gimli grunted in agreement. “Like the fair Lady of the Galadhrim’s magic mirror, there is no certainty in the things that have not yet come to pass. Do not worry over the things you cannot change.”
 
Erin’s head lifted and she wiped her face clumsily with her sleeve. “I’d have liked to have met her,” she said, feeling slightly better from their words. “My friends went on and on about Lothlórien and Galadriel.” She managed a weak smile.
 
“Aye, ‘tis more fair than any place on this world,” Legolas said softly, his smile wistful. “I hope to see it again before I leave these shores.”
 
The sky had turned a deep shade of blue that was almost black, and stars began to twinkle down at her, and Erin realized how tired she was.  She bit back a groan as she stood up, the muscles in her legs protesting and threatening to give way. Each step to her pack was torture, but she managed anyway, not having much choice.  She tried hard not to think about how bad she was going to feel tomorrow.
 
“I might be able to help,” a soft voice at her ear made her gasp in surprise, startling her greatly.
 
She looked crossly at the elf. “Make some noise when you come up behind me,” she said, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs. “You scared me.”
 
Legolas looked bemused. “I will try to remember,” he replied with a light laugh.
 
Erin gave him an exasperated look, moving gingerly to retrieve her sleeping bag.  She winced, her thighs trembling from the effort of bending.
 
“Let me help you,” Legolas said, taking the sleeping bag from her.
 
“I’m not helpless,” she snapped, her temper shortened greatly by the pain, not to mention the havoc his nearness was playing on her senses. At his swift intake of breath, she felt terrible for snapping at him. “I’m sorry, Legolas. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.”
 
He tilted his head slightly, puzzled by her expression.
 
She turned, unable to keep from wincing again as her legs protested against any movement whatsoever. “I didn’t mean to be cross with you,” she rephrased it. “I’m not at my best at the moment.”
 
He nodded, tucking the sleeping bag under his arm. He offered her his other one, and she took it, tucking her hand over his arm and allowing him to assist her back to where the others were sitting.
 
Gandalf watched her gimping across the campsite, leaning on Legolas for support, and looked at Aragorn.
 
“Do you have anything that might help her sleep tonight?” he asked the ranger, pitching his voice low so that Erin would not overhear.
 
Aragorn nodded. “I might. If you can heat some water for me.”
 
Gandalf chuckled, laying aside his pipe. “That I can do easily enough,” he said, taking the cup that Aragorn handed him and folding his long fingers around it. He wrapped his other hand around the cup as well, and closed his eyes.
 
Aragorn sifted through the small supply of plants and herbs he carried with him. He didn’t have very much to choose from, but he considered each carefully before selecting one he thought might help ease the pain that the woman was obviously suffering.
 
Gandalf’s eyes opened and he handed the cup of warmed water to Aragorn silently, watching the ranger crumble a bit of dried willow bark into it, setting the cup aside to let the concoction steep.
 
Legolas tossed the sleeping bag down on the ground beside the other sleeping rolls, unrolling its length until it lay flat. 
 
“Thank you,” Erin said, taking her hand from his arm and slowly lowering her body to sit on the slippery nylon material. 
 
“You are welcome.”  He looked down at her, his blue eyes glinting briefly. “Get some sleep, mellonen,” he said.  “You will feel better in the morning.”
 
Liar, Erin thought, watching the tall elf walk back to where the others sat. She knew she’d feel even worse when she woke up.  Groaning softly, she eased her way into the sleeping bag, whimpering quietly with each movement.
 
“This will help,” Aragorn said, startling her. He held out a metal drinking cup towards her.
 
“You’re as bad as Legolas,” she groused, looking up at him. “Sneaking up on people.”
 
His teeth flashed briefly in the dark. “I will take that as a compliment, lady. Drink this, it will help the pain.”
 
She sat up, accepting his help gratefully, and took the cup from him, sniffing its contents suspiciously.  “What is it?”
 
“Willow bark tea,” he replied. “It helps relieve pain.”
 
Her eyebrows rose and she eyed the drink again, taking a tentative sip and nearly gagging on the bitter taste. “That’s awful,” she shuddered.
 
“Drink it all,” he said firmly.
 
He saw the stubborn glint in her eye, but she did as he ordered, gulping the tea as quickly as she could to minimize the bitterness, making a face as she handed the cup back to him.
 
“Thanks, I think,” she said, shuddering again.
 
His lips twitched briefly. “You’re welcome. Sleep well.”  He rose to leave, but her hand on his arm made him pause.  He looked at her questioningly.
 
Erin swallowed, trying to work the taste of the tea out of her mouth. “What does mellonen mean?” she asked softly.
 
Aragorn glanced over at Legolas, who was teasing Gimli about something, if the dwarf’s blustering grumble was any indication, and then back to the woman.
 
“It means ‘my friend’, in Elvish,” he replied quietly.
 
Erin watched the ranger leave and rejoin the others, taking a seat next to Legolas. Darkness had fallen completely, but she could just make out the forms of Gandalf, Gimli, Aragorn and Legolas by the light of the moon that rose above them.  Feeling the effects of the tea beginning to take hold, Erin rolled to her side, wincing slightly, and cradled her head on her arms. She closed her eyes, and felt sleep take her.
 
~ * ~
 
By the time they reached Edoras, Erin’s legs were becoming more accustomed to the daily abuse of riding, and she found she wasn’t nearly as crippled when Aragorn helped her dismount.  He saw it as well, if his encouraging smile was any indication, and she felt a sudden surge of gratitude that he was here to help her. 
 
They had been stopped at the gates by armed and wary soldiers, guards of the city, who would not have let them pass within if it hadn’t been for Gandalf. By order of their king, none save those who spoke their language were allowed to pass.
 
Gandalf was regarded suspiciously by them as well, but between him and Aragorn, they convinced the guards that they were not enemies, and they were finally allowed beyond the gates.
 
Erin, of course, understood none of the conversation between Aragorn, Gandalf, and the guards, as it was in a different language.  Once past the gates, Aragorn had filled her in, explaining the King’s order and his reasoning for it.
 
“Not many speak the tongue of Rohan,” he said, “Save those that are close to its people, both in thought and deed.  Théoden hopes to keep enemies from entering the city.”
 
It made sense to her. “I don’t speak that language,” Erin had said worriedly. “How will I know what is happening?”
 
“Stay close to Legolas and Gimli, and do not speak.  Gandalf will undoubtedly explain your situation once we have reached the king.”  He had glanced at her strange garb and wished she had something else she could wear, for she would certainly cause a scene, dressed as she was.  It was not because she was wearing breeches, like a man, for there were shield maidens among the women of Rohan who affected the dress of men. It was the strangeness of the materials that would catch their attention. Aragorn hoped it would not cause them difficulty.
 
They had ridden single file up the hill that led to the hall of Théoden, Gandalf leading the way on Shadowfax. Erin was aware of the stares that had been directed their way and shifted nervously in the saddle, her apprehension growing with each step. Despite Aragorn’s words, she was worried about the kind of reception they would receive, remembering the hostility of the riders they met on the plain.  
 
Now they stood outside the great hall of the king, watching the stable boy lead Arod and Hasufel away. Shadowfax followed them at Gandalf’s request, promising the stallion good food and a rub down for all his hard work.
 
She walked beside Legolas up the steps leading to the doors of the hall, wishing she could hide behind the tall elf as they stopped in front of the guards.
 
The man nearest to them spoke briefly, looking at each of them in turn and pointing at their weapons.  
 
Silently, Legolas handed the guard his knives and bow, sliding the quiver off his back in a graceful movement.  The elf spoke in the language of the man, and Erin saw the wonder and awe in the man’s eyes as he took them, placing them quickly against the wall, as if afraid to handle them too long, and wished she knew what had been said. When he turned back to Legolas, he spoke again, and she saw the elf nod in acceptance.
 
She saw Aragorn hesitate, obviously loath to part with his sword. He said something to the guard who held his hand out for it, and shook his head.  The guard replied, his tone brooking no argument, but Aragorn was not through. He spoke at length, and Erin recognized his name and Théoden’s somewhere in the midst of his speech.  To her dismay, she saw the guard was not impressed with whatever he had said, and Aragorn’s shoulder’s stiffened.
 
Gimli added his argument to Aragorn’s, and Erin saw the guards stiffen in anger.
 
Gandalf spoke quickly, frowning at his friends, and unbuckling his sword, handing it to the door guard easily. He turned and looked pointedly at them, still speaking, until both Aragorn and Gimli gave up their weapons as well.
 
The guard looked at her, his eyes flicking curiously over her strange clothing, and spoke a phrase to her. She opened her arms wide, silently showing him her lack of weapons and he nodded, understanding her gesture, and turned back to Gandalf, gesturing to his staff and speaking.
 
Gandalf smiled, and before her eyes, he appeared more frail, more ancient and helpless, leaning upon his staff like a crutch. He spoke gruffly but persuasively to the guard, and after a moment, the guard nodded, and allowed them to pass.
 
Following Legolas, with Gimli close behind her, the five of them entered the great hall, the doors closing behind them, sealing off any escape route, and leaving Erin feeling trapped.
 
~ * ~
 
Erin tried very hard to follow what was going on, although she could not understand a single word of it. She got the general gist of things, however, when the slimy looking man practically slithered over to them, speaking in a harsh and sinister-sounding voice.  He looked them over with a sneer, his eyes lingering a little too long on Erin for her tastes, and she wished again that she could simply disappear behind the others.
 
Théoden, the king, was an ancient man, from the looks of him. His face was deathly pale, and his eyes were glazed over with a dull film, his voice barely rising above a whisper when he spoke.  The slimy man, as Erin called him silently, had slouched and slithered back to his side, and was whispering into Théoden’s ear.
 
Gandalf’s voice boomed out, startling Erin with its sudden strength, and his gray robes flew off, revealing the brilliant white robes beneath them. No longer did he stoop like a frail old man, clutching his staff for strength. Instead, Gandalf roared in his powerful voice, pointing his staff at the king.
 
Erin covered her ears, crouching in fear as Gandalf’s voice grew.  She did not see the change that came over the king, how the color crept back into his cheeks and the light returned to his blue eyes.  There was silence, and finally Erin dared to look up, stifling a gasp at the change she saw.
 
The slimy man was laying prone on the floor before Gandalf, and Théoden was rising from his throne, looking nothing like the shade of the man he had been just a few moments before.
 
Gandalf spoke gently to the king, and to her relief, she saw a smile creep across his features as he returned the speech. He glanced down at his servant, the slimy one, and toed his prostrate form with his boot, his voice becoming harsh and angry.  The pasty faced man looked up, fear written plainly on is face, but made no struggle as the guards escorted him from the hall.
 
Erin watched him go with relief, feeling the atmosphere in the hall lift once he was gone. She looked back, and saw one of the guardsmen present the king with a sword on bended knee and watched as the light grew brighter in the king’s eyes. She recognized Éomer as he handed the King his sword, hilt first, speaking words in a glad tone.
 
Gandalf spoke again, and whatever he said caused Théoden to look up in surprise, then glance over at her.
 
“What strangers do you bring to my hall, Gandalf Stormcrow?” he asked in the common tongue, his blue eyes resting on Erin with obvious curiosity.
 
Erin breathed a silent sigh of relief at finally hearing something she could understand.
 
“This lady is Erin Smith, a traveler from distant lands,” Gandalf said, introducing her. “She does not speak your language, I’m afraid, but her heart is pure and she is not an enemy of Rohan.”
 
Erin didn’t know if she should bow or curtsey, but chose the former, since she was wearing pants.
 
“Ah, I understand your request better now, I think,” Théoden chuckled, eyeing the strange tangle-haired and grubby young woman. “If you are a friend to Gandalf, then you are welcome at my court, Lady,” he told her. “I will send for Éowyn so that you may bathe and change clothing, as I am certain you wish to wash the grime of travel from you.”  His eyes narrowed and he looked at her shrewdly, taking in her unusual raiment. “There is a tale here that I would hear from you once you have eaten and rested.”  The king looked away, searching the hall with is now-sharp gaze. “Where is my sister-daughter? Where is Éowyn?”
 
“Here I am, Théoden King,” came the reply, and a tall young woman of noble grace and bearing stepped forward, tears in her eyes. She dropped in front of him and spoke in their language, obviously overjoyed to see the changes in him.  Théoden returned her embrace warmly, and released her, turning her towards Erin.
 
“This Lady is a guest and companion of Gandalf,” he said softly. “Would you see to her needs?”
 
Éowyn’s eyes flickered curiously over their party, lingering briefly on Aragorn, before turning her complete attention to Erin, who shifted with embarrassment under her sharp gaze.  
 
Éowyn smiled, and Erin saw her face light up with interest and curiosity as she approached.
 
“If you will come with me,” the lady said in a velvet voice, “I would be pleased to help you.”
 
Erin glanced at Aragorn and he nodded. “Go with her, Lady.”
 
She had never felt more like an ugly duckling as she did now, following behind the beautiful blonde woman who moved with a gracefulness that Erin knew she could never achieve. She was even more aware of her disgraceful appearance, every tangle and smear of dirt, and the earthy, sweaty smell that rose from her as she followed Éowyn up the long stairs that led to the more private rooms of the hall.  
 
Éowyn stopped at a door and opened it, leading Erin through and closing it behind her, watching bemusedly as the strangely garbed woman looked around her in open curiosity.
 
The room was fairly big, much larger than the living room of her apartment, Erin thought. It held a bed in the far corner, a decently sized affair with a beautifully carved headboard made of wood, scenes of horses depicted in various poses decorating it. Next to it was a wooden stand which held a large ceramic bowl and pitcher of water, for washing. On several walls there were tapestries, most woven in designs of horses, although there were a few that held scenes of battles.  There were two chairs and a small table for sitting at, and Erin mused that one could easily eat there, as well as write letters or read. 
 
“I will have a bath brought up for you,” Éowyn said, interrupting her thoughts.  
 
Erin looked at her gratefully. “That is the best thing I’ve heard all day,” she said, pulling at her sweater. “Thank you.”
 
Éowyn nodded, looking at her thoughtfully. “Do you have clean clothing to wear?” she asked hesitantly, not wanting to offend her.
 
Shaking her head, Erin smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid I don’t. This trip wasn’t exactly how I planned it.”
 
Éowyn’s blonde eyebrows shot up and a brief smile crossed her lips. “I would like to hear your story,” she said. “But it can wait until later. As for clothing, I will have to consider – we are nothing alike in size.”
 
Erin resisted the urge to snort at the understatement. Éowyn was tall and willowy, small busted and slim-hipped, just about the complete opposite of her own form.
 
“I can put this on again,” Erin replied, pulling at her sweater again. “Don’t go through any trouble on my account.”
 
Éowyn frowned, and shook her head. “Would you not prefer something cleaner and more appropriate to wear when you meet with the King?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
 
Erin sighed. “You’re saying I should change into a dress?”
 
“I think I can find one that will fit you. One of the ladies here is about your build, and I am certain she would be willing to loan you something.”
 
She had to admit, part of her was looking forward to wearing something besides what she had on, something that didn’t look like she’d been riding horseback and sleeping on the ground for two days without a bath.  
 
“Thank you,” Erin said honestly. “As long as it’s not too much trouble.”
 
Éowyn shook her head with a light laugh. “It is not.”
 
It took four men to carry the metal tub in and set it in the center of the room, and Erin watched with curiosity and chagrin as kettle after kettle of warmed water was poured into it. The men left, bowing slightly to Éowyn and Erin, and closed the door behind them, leaving her alone with the other woman once more.
 
“So that’s how you take baths here,” Erin commented, stepping over to examine to tub closer.  She glanced at Éowyn’s puzzled expression and gave her a wry smile. “We have running water where I come from – it comes out of a metal pipe already heated!”
 
Éowyn was awed. “That sounds like magic.”
 
Erin shrugged. “I suppose you could see it that way.  It isn’t, of course.  Simple engineering and science makes it happen.”  She stuck a hand in the water and found the temperature to be comfortably warm.  
 
Éowyn placed a bar of soap and a glass bottle of liquid next to the tub, folding the towel she held over her arm.  “Are you going to bathe?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow.
 
She realized that Éowyn had no plans on leaving her unattended, and a flush crept over her cheeks. It was silly to be embarrassed, Erin knew, but she was just the same. Turning her back to the other woman, she pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it on the bed. Her bra and pants quickly followed, along with her underwear and socks. Without looking at the other woman, she stepped into the tub, sinking down in the warm water with a sigh.
 
“What is this?” Éowyn asked, holding up her bra with a curious look.
 
Reaching over the tub, Erin grabbed the soap and began the process of washing almost a week’s worth of dirt from her skin. “It’s called a bra,” she replied without looking up. “The women of my world wear them to, er, keep themselves strapped down.”
 
Éowyn’s eyes widened in surprise and immediate understanding. “I sometimes use a length of cloth to bind my breasts when I go riding – it is not as painful.”
 
Feeling a little less self-conscious, now that the water had become murky from the soap and dirt that floated off of her, Erin laughed. “I know exactly what you mean. I forgot to put it on when I first met Aragorn, and ran for a couple of hours without it. I was so sore later, and not just my legs.”
 
Éowyn’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment, and then she laughed as well. “Tell me how you met your companions, and I will wash your hair for you.”
 
Erin sunk lower in the tub, her self-consciousness returning. “You don’t have to do that.”
 
Éowyn shook her head. “Let me help you.”  She did not understand the other woman’s embarrassment. “You have no need to be shy, for we are both women.”  She moved the chair next to tub, at Erin’s head, and reached for the pitcher. “Or do the women in your world never bathe in front of another?”
 
Erin shrugged, feeling the cool water pour over her hair and closed her eyes. “We’re brought up to be modest,” she replied between bouts of water. “There are times when bathing is shared, I guess, but it’s not comfortable really. At least not for me.”
 
Éowyn poured a small handful of soap from the glass bottle beside the tub and lathered it into the snarled mass of brown hair in front of her. “Why is that? You are not deformed or misshapen in any way that I can see.”
 
Erin repeated her shrug, sighing in bliss as Éowyn’s clever fingers worked at the knots and tangles in her hair. “I don’t really know why,” she replied finally. “It’s probably how I was raised – nakedness being a thing to be ashamed of. You don’t go flaunting your body in front of other people, even if they’re women.”
 
Éowyn reached for the pitcher and filled it, pouring the clean water over Erin’s head to rinse the soap from her hair. “Modesty is understood,” she said, pouring more water. “But to teach your children to be ashamed of their body? I do not understand that.”  Satisfied that the last of the soap was washed clean, she reached for the liquid soap again, working it into Erin’s hair once more.
 
As Erin bathed, feeling rather spoiled by Éowyn’s attentions, she told the other woman how she had met Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas, and the meeting of Gandalf in the forest of Fangorn.
 
“You must have been very frightened,” Éowyn exclaimed. “To have been taken thus from your own world and all that you know.”
 
“You could say that,” Erin replied with a short laugh. “I didn’t realize how bad it was at first, I kept hoping I was just having a bad dream.”
 
“You were lucky that Aragorn and Legolas were there to kill the Orc,” Éowyn added. “You are fortunate to have had their protection.”
 
Erin nodded, grinning briefly. “I wasn’t too sure about any of them at first, particularly Aragorn – he seemed a little too bossy for my tastes. But I think we get along okay now.” She sighed as Éowyn began to rinse the soap from her hair once more. 
 
When Éowyn finished rinsing Erin’s hair for the last time, she gestured for the woman to step out of the tub, handing her the rough woven towel for her to dry herself.
 
“I will find you clothing,” she said, handing Erin a small comb. “I will return in a moment.”
 
Erin sat on the edge of the bed and watched her close the door tightly behind her. Her wet hair dripped rivulets of water down her clean skin, and Erin sighed, delighting in being clean once more. As she toweled the water from her body, she looked critically at herself, noting that her legs and arms were in need of a shave, and she found herself wondering if they had such things as razors for women in Middle Earth.  The thought brought a rueful chuckle from her – somehow, she highly doubted it.
 
The door to her room opened and Erin clutched the towel to her, hoping it was Éowyn returning with clothing. 
 
Éowyn noticed her obvious relief at seeing her and smiled, laying out the dress and small clothes on the bed beside her. “You need not worry that someone will enter unannounced,” she said, her blue eyes twinkling with humor. “There are two guards at the door.”
 
Erin eyed the clothing Éowyn had brought with interest. The dress was a simple russet colored gown with gold thread embroidered on the round shaped neckline, made of a soft, velvety material that shimmered slightly in the light. It was slightly worn at the edges, but still quite nice, and Erin was overwhelmed suddenly by the kindness Éowyn had shown her.
 
“Thank you,” she blurted, turning her face away so the other woman wouldn’t see the tears that threatened to fall. 
 
Éowyn smiled, sitting back on the bed beside the other woman and taking the comb from her limp fingers.  “’Tis nothing,” she said calmly, running the comb through the remaining tangles in Erin’s hair. “I hope it will fit.”
 
When she felt she had her emotions under control once more, Erin stood, holding the dress up to her body and looking down to see where it fell. It was ankle length, and the cut was similar to Éowyn’s. 
 
“The color suits you,” Éowyn said, tilting her head slightly as she looked at the smaller woman. 
 
Carefully, Erin laid the dress on the bed and reached for her bra, sliding the straps over her shoulders and hooking it with well-practiced ease. She was conscious of the other woman’s regard as she did this, and looked up once she had it fastened properly.  “See how it supports?” she said, turning around to show her the back. 
 
“That is a clever bit of tailoring,” Éowyn agreed, fingering the stretchy fabric of the straps on the shoulders. “I would like to see if I could copy this.”
 
Dropping the towel completely, Erin reached for her underwear, making a face. “I really don’t want to put these back on,” she said with a sigh. “I’m clean, and they aren’t.”
 
“Here,” Éowyn handed her one of the small bits of clothing she had brought with the dress.
 
Erin held it up curiously, and it took her a moment before it registered what it was. “Bloomers!” she laughed, holding them up and shaking them. They looked like female boxer shorts, only longer and baggier in the legs than she was used to. She slid them over her thighs and up over her hips, finding the string that tightened the waistline so that they would stay up. Once she had them on, she realized they were quite comfortable.
 
“These are cool!” she exclaimed, looking up to grin at Éowyn.
 
“Well, it is still yet some months until winter,” Éowyn replied, not understanding Erin’s comment.  She helped lift the long dress over Erin’s head, pulling it down as the other woman slid her arms into the long sleeves.
 
It was a little big in the waist, Erin thought as she looked down at the dress, and a little snug in the chest, but overall, it was a pretty good fit.  With a grin, she spun around quickly, feeling the fabric flair out around her bare legs.
 
Éowyn laughed, watching the transformation from the grubby and shy stranger to laughing and smiling young woman before her. 
 
“I look like a different woman,” Erin declared, looking down at the dress and smoothing the soft fabric with her fingers. 
 
Éowyn nodded in agreement. “How do you wish to wear your hair?” she asked.
 
Erin touched her damp hair and shrugged. “I usually wear it loose.”  She looked at Éowyn and smiled. “Do you have a suggestion?”
 
Nodding, Éowyn beckoned her to sit next to her on the bed, and turned her so that her back was to her.  Deftly, she separated several strands of hair at either side of Erin’s head and braided them, pulling them together at the back of her head and tying them with a length of green ribbon she had brought.  The end result was simple, yet held the length of Erin’s hair away from her face.  
 
“There,” she said, patting the braids in place. “That will do nicely, I think.”
 
Erin reached up and tentatively touched the braids that swept back from her temple, feeling the ribbon that held them in place.  Her emotions rose up once more and threatened to overwhelm her.
 
“Thank you,” she said softly, giving the other woman a tremulous smile. “You’ve been so nice to me, and you don’t even know me.”
 
Éowyn saw the tears that threatened and quickly hugged the other woman. “You looked so lost in my uncle’s hall,” she replied quietly after releasing her. “It was a simple thing for me to help you.  I enjoyed doing it.”
 
“I don’t know why I’m so darned emotional,” Erin sniffed, wiping her eyes with her fingertips. “I’m not usually so weepy.”
 
Éowyn gave her a quick smile. “You have been through a lot, I imagine, in the last few days.  You are a strange woman in a strange land, yet you must be brave to have traveled so far from your home.  A few tears are understandable.”
 
Erin nodded, admiring the quiet strength she sensed within the other woman, and resolved to act more like her, if she could.
 
The hiking boots Erin had worn did not go with the dress very well, and Éowyn presented her with a pair of soft knee high boots that laced at the sides. They had a low heel, and the leather they were made from was both soft and supple. They belonged to Éowyn, and were a bit large on Erin’s much smaller foot. The problem was solved with an extra pair of stockings, and Erin found that she could walk in them without them slipping too much.
 
“I will have your clothes cleaned for you and left here. This will be your room while you are a guest here,” Éowyn said, gathering up Erin’s sweater and jeans, socks and underwear in a neat pile. “I imagine my uncle is waiting to speak with you, and your companions are probably concerned about you as well.”
 
The two guards at the door bowed slightly as Éowyn passed them, and Erin caught one of them looking at her with interest as she followed her, his eyes taking in her smaller form with silent admiration, making Erin blush and look away hurriedly.
 
Feeling much improved, and much less the ugly duckling, Erin followed Éowyn down the long stairs to the hall where Théoden and her companions waited.

Chapter 5
 
Gandalf leaned upon his staff and as he spoke, his dark eyes flashed with the urgency of his words.
 
“Every man that can ride should be sent west at once, as Éomer has counseled you. We must first destroy the threat of Saruman while we have time. Your people that are left – the women and children and the old, should fly to the refuges that you have in the mountains. Let them take provisions, but do not delay, nor let them burden themselves with treasures, great or small. It is their lives that are at stake.”
 
Théoden nodded. “This counsel seems good to me now. Let all my folk make ready for the journey. But you, my guests – truly you said, Gandalf, that the courtesy of my hall is lessened. You have ridden hard through the day and the night approaches. You have had neither sleep nor food. Rooms shall be made ready, there you shall sleep, when you have eaten.”
 
“Nay, lord,” Aragorn said with a small shake of his head. “There is no rest yet for the weary. The men of Rohan must ride forth today, and we shall ride with them – axe, sword, and bow. We did not bring them to rest against your wall, Lord of the Mark, and I promised Éomer that my sword and his should be drawn together.”
 
“Now there is indeed hope of victory,” Éomer declared strongly from his place beside Théoden.
 
“Hope, yes,” cautioned Gandalf. “But Isengard is strong, and other perils draw nearer. Do not delay, Théoden, when we are gone. Lead your people swiftly to the Hold of Dunharrow in the hills.”
 
“Nay, Gandalf!” Théoden replied sharply. “You do not know your own skill in healing. It shall not be so. I myself will go to war, to fall in the front of the battle, if it must be.”
 
“Then even the defeat of Rohan will be glorious in song,” Aragorn said, grinning fiercely, his words ringing in the ears of the armed men that stood near. They clashed their weapons against their shields proudly and with fierce show of strength.
 
“The Lord of the Mark will ride!” they shouted. “Forth Éorlingas!”
 
“But your people must not be both unarmed and shepherdless,” said Gandalf with a frown. “Who shall guide them and govern them in your place?”
 
Théoden did not answer, his eyes were drawn to the two women who had just entered the hall.  The others turned to see what he looked at, and their eyes opened wide in wonder and appreciation.
 
Erin felt very self-conscious as she followed Éowyn, well aware that every eye in the room was upon them. She caught Gandalf’s eye and he gave her a quick nod, his look of approval giving her strength to complete the journey to their table.
 
Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn were surprised as well. Gone was the grimy, tangle-haired woman in the strange clothing. In her place stood a fair maid, dressed in russet and gold, her fine brown hair shining in the light of the setting sun.
 
Théoden greeted Éowyn, and fixed his gaze on Erin, nodding in his approval of the changes she had wrought.
 
“As much as I would like to hear your strange tale, lady, it must wait. For matters of urgency press us greatly,” he said gravely. “Your companions have told me of the treachery of Saruman, and we ride forth this day to meet it.”
 
Erin saw Éowyn’s blue eyes widen in surprise and trepidation, but the lady did not speak.  
 
Théoden turned to Éomer. “Who shall lead my people to the safety of the hills?” he asked. “What is your counsel, my sister’s son. In whom do we trust in this most urgent of matters?”
 
“In the house of Eorl,” Éomer replied, glancing at Éowyn swiftly. “My sister would lead our people to the safety of Dunharrow.”
 
Théoden’s eyebrows rose slightly and he turned to his niece. “Éomer has made a logical and wise choice. I would ask you, Éowyn, if you would accept this task. Will you lead the women, children, and old to the safety of the hills?”
 
The woman nodded, standing proudly before him. “I will, my King.”
 
“And what of Lady Erin?” Aragorn asked, turning to Gandalf. “She is not a warrior, trained or blooded in battle. I would have her accompany the Lady Éowyn, if you do not have objection.”
 
Gandalf pulled at his moustache thoughtfully, regarding the young woman in question. No guidance came from the heavens, and he did not know for certain where her true path was meant to be. He agreed with Aragorn in that it would most definitely be safer for Erin to go with the others to Dunharrow, but was uncertain if that was the right choice for her. Perhaps she was meant to go with them?  He could not decide, and finally, he spoke.
 
“And what is your wish, Erin?” he asked, thinking that perhaps the answer to his question lay there.
 
“I don’t think I would be any good in a fight,” Erin answered honestly, fidgeting under his penetrating look. “I think I should probably go with Éowyn and stay out of your way.”
 
Aragorn breathed a silent sigh of relief that her stubborn side hadn’t demanded that she accompany them in battle. She had strength, true enough, but no skill, and Aragorn knew that he or one of the others would have to remain behind to protect her, and the battle they faced needed every strong arm available to them. 
 
Gandalf nodded and gave her a brief smile. “So be it, then.”
 
“If you win the fight,” Erin asked hesitantly, her fingers playing with the fabric of her dress, “Will you come and get me?”
 
The wizard’s expression was grave. “We will try, Erin, if that is the will of the Valar.”
 
~ * ~
 
Erin finished the piece of bread and pushed her plate back away from her, her stomach finally full. Éowyn had brought her back to her rooms after the council with the king, and had a servant bring her a simple meal of bread, fruit and cheese. Erin had fallen on it like a starving dog, relishing each bite, for she hadn’t eaten anything that day except a piece of fruit for breakfast early that morning.  
 
Brushing away the breadcrumbs that had fallen onto her lap while she ate, Erin pushed away from the table and went to her door, hesitating.  Éowyn had left her after her meal was brought, saying she had things to do before they left for Dunharrow. Erin was restless, and worried about her companions. She knew they were leaving soon to join with the soldiers of Rohan, to fight against the armies of Saruman. Quite honestly, she was frightened she would never see any of them alive again.  In the few days they had traveled together, Erin had come to care about them all, and knowing that they were riding towards danger didn’t make her happy in the least.  She already felt a keen sense of abandonment having been thrown into their world so abruptly – and she felt a strange kinship with the four who had been her companions for the past few days; they were a link, of sorts, to her world.  
 
She pushed her door open and peered out, seeing that the guards who had been stationed there were no longer present, presumably having been called to join the others for the impending battle.  She closed the door behind her and headed down the hall towards the long stairway she and Éowyn had crossed earlier.
 
Erin wasn’t sure where she was headed, but she reached the bottom of the stairs and turned left, towards the direction she thought the main hall doors were. She wanted to go outside – say goodbye to the horses, breathe fresh air, watch the sunset – anything to keep her mind off her friends.
 
The great doors were opened and Erin stepped through them, the cold night air hitting her face like a slap. She’d missed the sunset already, it looked like, and the sky was already dark.  Shrugging, she followed the steps down until she reached the main courtyard, looking around her in interest.
 
The courtyard of the hall was bustling with activity. Men – soldiers by their armor – milled about carrying torches, shouting orders, packing weapons, checking their gear. They were far to busy to notice the woman in the russet dress as she edged past them, walking around the perimeter until she found a well worn dirt pathway that gently sloped away from the cobblestones, leading towards a large building surrounded by grassy pastures and fences. If she was to take a guess, that was where the horses were kept.
 
The path was smooth and even under Erin’s boots, sloping gently downward until it leveled out, the grass on either side of it reaching her waist. She could see torches lit by the building, lighting it up in the deepening shadows of the evening, and she could see that there were men down there as well.
 
They either didn’t see her or were ignoring her presence as she stepped inside the large building that housed many of the great horses of the Rohirrim. The smell of hay, dust, and horse manure greeted her as she walked into the barn, pausing briefly to let her eyes adjust to the dim light.  Several dark equine eyes peered at her curiously as she walked past them, sticking their noses out to be scratched. At the far end of the row of stalls, she could see the familiar gray head of Arod, poking over the edge of his stall, his black-tipped ears perked up as he watched her approach.  Next to him, chewing a mouthful of hay, was Hasufel. She glanced around, but did not see Shadowfax among the horses in the barn.
 
Arod permitted her touch, pushing his nose under her hand with a brief snort, and she indulged him, scratching and petting his head.  She’d always liked horses, but had never had the opportunity to be around them much, so she enjoyed the fact that Arod was willing to let her pet him.
 
“You take good care of Legolas, you hear?” she told him softly, stroking his velvet nose gently. “And don’t let Gimli fall off either.”  The horse nickered softly, searching her palm for treats. “Bring them back safe, okay?”  Seeing that her hand was empty of anything edible, Arod pulled his head away from her, pulling a large mouthful of hay from the rack by his head and chewing it placidly. 
 
“You should be resting, not talking to the horses,” an amused voice said quietly by her ear. She jumped, startled, and Arod flicked his ears at her in irritation.
 
“You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”  She turned to Legolas, having recognized his voice. “You’ll scare the horses.”
 
Legolas laughed, his eyes lighting up with his amusement. “My apologies, Lady. I forgot to stomp.”
 
Erin rolled her eyes, looking at Hasufel and shaking her head. “Elves,” she said, shaking her head at the horse who regarded her over the door of his stall.
 
Hasufel snorted as if in agreement, taking another mouthful of hay.
 
Erin took a deep breath, looking at Legolas out of the corner of her eye. “I wasn’t tired, and I wanted to say goodbye.”  She finally looked at him, feeling extremely tongue tied. “I – I’m afraid I won’t see any of you again.”
 
Legolas smiled gently. “You will be fine, Erin. Even if we do not return for you, you will survive.”
 
“What if I don’t want to?” she replied shortly, turning away from him to pat Arod’s neck. “I don’t want to stay here.”
 
Legolas sucked in his breath, watching the troubled young woman pet the horse as she avoided his gaze. “You must not think such things, mellonen,” he said finally, his hand clasping her shoulder and gently pulling her back around to face him. “Gandalf believes you have a purpose in being here. You must believe him, for he is wise.”
 
“If you say so,” Erin replied, doubtfully, trying to ignore the way her heart leapt when he touched her. “I only wish I knew what it was.”
 
“There you are,” a familiar voice said, drawing Erin’s attention to the end of the row. She smiled briefly as she saw Aragorn and Gimli walking towards them.
 
“I came to say goodbye,” she said when they came to a halt beside her. “I was hoping I’d catch you before you left.”
 
Aragorn nodded, giving her a brief smile. “We came to tell you we were leaving, but you had left your rooms, and no one had seen you. Gimli was worried,” he added, with a glint in his eye.
 
The Dwarf sputtered a protest. “I was merely looking out for her welfare.”
 
Erin grinned at Gimli. “I’m touched, Master Dwarf.” 
 
Gimli’s bushy eyebrows rose and he glowered at her. “Well someone has to look after you.”
 
“And keep me out of trouble?” she couldn’t resist adding.
 
“Aye, lass.”  His mock-glower faded and he gave her a quick grin. 
 
Erin nodded dutifully, resisting the urge to hug the normally taciturn Dwarf. “I will, Gimli. You too.”
 
Aragorn clasped her arm briefly, his expression solemn. “Be safe, Erin. Follow Éowyn’s lead, and wait for our return. Gandalf may have the answers he seeks for you by then.”  He released his grip on her shoulder and opened Hasufel’s stall door.
 
“Aye, lass. Do not let yourself worry,” Gimli added gruffly, his dark eyes twinkling up at her. “We will see you sooner than you think.”
 
Erin swallowed the knot that had formed in her throat and nodded. 
 
“You three be careful out there,” she said, feeling a knot form in her throat, nearly causing her to choke. “Don’t get yourselves killed.”
 
Gathering her dress so she wouldn’t trip on it, she left, walking hurriedly past them without another word. She hated goodbyes, and this one was the worst she’d ever had to go through. 
 
~ * ~
 
Erin envied Éowyn’s grace on horseback, the skill and ease in which she controlled the spirited animal she rode. In contrast, Erin was riding an older, placid animal, a docile mare named Silhafel, which meant “clover” in the tongue of Rohan. Silhafel had tolerated Erin’s efforts mounting her with barely a flickering ear, but she had quickly decided that on this trip, she would be the boss, not her rider, who evidently didn’t have a clue.  Luckily for Erin, Silhafel seemed content to follow Éowyn’s horse, Mearagar, wherever he went, and Erin simply had to hold the reins to keep them from dropping onto the ground.
 
“How far do we have to go?” Erin asked, glancing back at the long train of people behind them. Several rode, but there were also a good number of people on foot.
 
“At this pace, we should reach the hills of Dunharrow in two days,” Éowyn replied, leaning back slightly in the saddle as Mearagar began to descend a gentle slope.  
 
Erin followed her lead, leaning back in the saddle, and found it helped her keep her balance as Silhafel moved downhill.  In the distance, she could see the foothills of the mountains, although they were little more than tan-colored bumps from this far away. It was in this direction that Éowyn guided them, leading the women, children, and elderly of Edoras away from the city to the safety of the great hall there.
 
“Will you teach me to ride?” Erin asked the other woman shyly. “I mean, it looks like I may be stuck here for a while, and it would be nice to be the rider, instead of the passenger.” She gave Silhafel a frown, and ruined it by patting the horse’s neck gently. 
 
Éowyn laughed. “I will,” she said. “It will give your companions a surprise to see you riding like a shield-maiden when they return.”
 
Erin chuckled, knowing the woman was teasing her. “I doubt I will ever ride as good as you do, Éowyn. But I’d like to try.”
 
They forded a small river that marked the half-way point between the city and Dunharrow, and Éowyn decided it was the best place to stop for the night. Camp was set up quickly and efficiently under the Lady’s guidance, and Erin was impressed by the easy way she handled the problems that popped up.  Handling such a large group of people and getting them settled wasn’t simple – but Éowyn made it look like it was.  She’s a natural leader, Erin thought, a trifle enviously. She could be a queen. 
 
Although she didn’t have a lot of experience, Erin was not afraid of hard work, and she worked with the women who were setting up camp, hauling bucket after bucket of water from the river to fill several large pots. Several fires were going, and Erin stood next to another woman peeling and cutting vegetables for the stew they were making.  She didn’t know how to make bread, but was willing to learn, and the women of Rohan, once they got over their initial shyness of her, were willing to teach her.
 
One of the older women took her under her wing and patiently showed her the steps to make their camp bread.
 
“This is called quickbread,” Donalla explained, pouring out a large measure of milled flour into her bowl. “’Tis simple to make while you travel, because it does not need to rise, like other breads do.” She stepped back from the bowl, dusting her hands on her dress and motioned for Erin to take her place. “Now, add the salt and lard, like I showed ye earlier.”
 
Under Donalla’s sharp gaze, Erin followed her instructions carefully. Using her hands, she mixed the lard with the flour and salt until the mixture was crumbly. 
 
“Now add your water and mix it together. Not to much!” the old woman cautioned, laying her wrinkled hand over Erin’s arm as she poured. “You want just enough to make it stick together. Aye, that’s it.” She nodded in approval. “Now take the bowl to the fire there, and I will carry the pan.”
 
Donalla showed her how to form the dough into small, and semi-flat rounds and placed them on the pan. “You will want to turn them when you see the edges start to brown.”
 
“How will I know when it is cooked all the way?” Erin asked, turning one of the browned ones over.
 
“You poke it with your finger,” the old woman answered with a quick grin, and showed her. “See? This one is not yet done – when it bounces back you know it is cooked.”
 
Erin smiled, pleased with herself for learning something new. With a nod, Donalla left her to her cooking, satisfied that the strange woman would see it done properly.
 
When their meal was finished and the dishes cleaned, Erin returned to the spot she had decided to sleep in, next to Éowyn and their horses.  Remembering Aragorn’s words about her tent while they were camping on the plains, Erin decided not to set it up. Instead, she unrolled her sleeping bag, placing her pack next to it.
 
Éowyn joined her shortly afterwards, having finished seeing to the settling of her people, and sat next to Erin on her sleeping bag, looking up at the stars that had started to appear in the darkening sky above them.
 
“Dame Donalla tells me you learn quickly,” Éowyn turned to look at the other woman and smiled. “I am glad to hear you found something to do.”
 
Erin nodded. “I was glad they were willing to work with me. I hate feeling useless.”
 
“I am certain we can find something you are skilled at,” Éowyn replied, her expression turning curious. “What did you do in your homeworld?”
 
Erin pulled her knees against her chest, lacing her fingers together at the knees.  “I was a student at a University, studying to earn my degree in the sciences. I wanted – want,” she corrected herself, “to be a research scientist – to study and hopefully discover cures to diseases.”
 
Éowyn’s mouth dropped open slightly as she regarded the other woman in surprise. “They permit women in your world to do such things?” she asked.
 
Erin shrugged slightly. “Sure. Not every woman decides to go to college, of course. Some get married, have children and stay home. Some get jobs without the higher education to support themselves and their families. It just depends.”  She turned to Éowyn and raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you get to choose what you want to do with your life?”
 
Éowyn was silent for a moment, picking at a blade of grass at her knees. “I am more fortunate than most women due to my high station – being the niece to the king does have advantages, but I do not have the freedom you describe to freely choose the life I would like to lead.”  She looked up and smiled ruefully at Erin. “If I were to choose, I would not be here, leading a bunch of women and children to safety. I would be fighting at the side of my King.”
 
It was Erin’s turn to look surprised, and a little envious. “You are much braver than I am, Éowyn,” Erin said, shaking her head. “I don’t know anything about fighting, and I wouldn’t want to be right in the middle of a battle like that.  I don’t think I could do it.”
 
“Even to save your life, or the life of a loved one?” Éowyn asked.
 
“Well, yes, I guess I could if I had to,” she replied, thinking about her friends. “But I wouldn’t go out of my way to put myself into a situation where I had to kill someone.”
 
Éowyn was silent a moment, then she asked, “Is it because you lack the skill to fight?”
 
Erin nodded. “Partly, yes. And partly because of the way I grew up – for the most part, anyway, we’re taught to believe that life is sacred, and to kill is a sin.  Not to say that there aren’t people who kill just for the thrill of it, or because they have to because they are soldiers and it’s their job. But a good part of the population believes that way.”
 
Éowyn regarded the young woman who she was quickly coming to consider as a friend with envy and a trace of sadness. “The time we live in is dangerous, Erin. I, too, have a respect for life, the life of my family, my people, and the good people of this land. I would not have their lives taken away by the evil that threatens them – and I will fight to protect them.”
 
Unfolding her knees and straightening them out in front of her, Erin plucked at a blade of grass that had stuck to the fabric of her dress, dropping it onto the ground beside her. “I keep forgetting that I’m not in my own world anymore, and that my rules just don’t apply.” She sighed, shooting a wry smile at Éowyn. “I have a lot to learn.”
 
Éowyn nodded, and the two women fell silent, looking up at the stars above them, each lost in her own thoughts.
 
~ * ~
 
The horseman was riding fast, a plume of dust rising behind him like a rooster tail that was easily visible from the hill where Éowyn and Erin sat on their own mounts, looking down at him.
 
“He wears the colors of a messenger for the king,” Éowyn said, shading her eyes so she could see better. “And rides as if a band of Orcs were on his tail. I wonder what he is doing so far from the king?”
 
“Can we find out?” Erin asked, squinting in the harsh light of the sun at the rider who was rapidly drawing nearer. 
 
“I think that would be a good idea,” Éowyn agreed, nudging Mearagar forward. Silhafel followed him, and Erin clutched the saddle as they trotted down the steep hill to the road beneath it.
 
The rider spotted them immediately and pulled his mount up sharply, relief evident on his face.
 
“My Lady, I am grateful to have found you. The pass to Dunharrow is blocked by the enemy, and the King has sent me to guide you to Helm’s Deep, where the others have taken stand. We must move quickly, for the enemy is on the move, drawing closer to the Deep even as we speak.”
 
Éowyn’s face went pale. “Can we reach the safety of the Deep in time?” she asked, her lips tight.
 
“Aye, my Lady, if we go with haste.”
 
Without another word, Éowyn spurred Mearagar into a gallop, riding back over the hill where the others were.  Erin grit her teeth as Silhafel followed, determined more than ever to learn to ride properly and not be unwilling passenger.
 
Éowyn rode quickly, passing the word along the long train of people. They must ride and run fast. Take nothing that was not necessary, for speed was of the essence. Children would be carried by those on horseback, and the elderly who could not run were placed in the carts that had held their food and water. In a matter of moments, Éowyn had them ready to run, and she led them to the road where the messenger waited.
 
Erin remembered seeing the movie ‘The Ten Commandments’ as a child, and in particular recalled the scene where the Hebrews left the city. In the movie, it took only a matter of moments for all of them to pack up and go, moving out without so much as a backward glance.  The reality of it was quite different as the people of Rohan ran for the safety of Helm’s Deep. It became readily apparent that, even with the children and elderly riding on horseback or in wagons, people were being left behind, and the train stretched longer and longer behind them.
 
Éowyn saw Erin’s look and followed it, a frown crossing her pretty features as she saw that several people had fallen quite a distance behind the main group.  They could not afford to slow for them, and she watched with dismay as they fell further and further behind.
 
“I will send riders for them the moment we reach safety,” Éowyn shouted above the galloping of her horse’s hooves. “But I must get as many of my people to safety as I can first.”
 
Erin nodded, understanding the unhappy look on the other woman’s face. It could not be easy for her to leave the stragglers behind, but she had to think of the safety of the majority of her people first.
 
They were forced to slow their pace eventually, as more and more people fell behind. Only those on horseback were able to keep up, and Éowyn bit her lips in frustration.  She turned to the messenger and beckoned him.
 
“Ride ahead and tell them that we are on our way, and to send riders and horses for the people who walk. They will not make it much further if we keep them at this pace.”
 
He bowed slightly and touched the flanks of his horse with his heels, galloping away from them in a rising trail of dust towards the direction of Helm’s Deep. 
 
“I hope they will arrive in time,” Éowyn said worriedly, glancing back at the long line of people behind her. 
 
Several riders pushed passed them, not wanting to wait for the others as they rode as fast as they could push their horses towards the promised safety. Erin did not blame them, but could not do the same. Even if she could get her horse away from Éowyn’s, she would not leave her friend behind, alone with her heavy responsibility.
 
The walked onward, as fast as they could, letting the people on foot catch their breath, before picking up the pace once more.
 
Erin heard a strange rumbling noise coming from the left, the sound rolling over the hills ominously.  Éowyn’s face tightened and paled.
 
“We do not have much time.”
 
Erin and Éowyn were not the only ones who heard the marching of the army that approached, and a wave of fear swept through the line of people. They began to run, panic and fear renewing their strength.
 
They reached the valley that opened before Helm’s Deep as riders emerged, each leading several horses behind them, and Erin breathed a sigh of release as they swept by in a flurry of hooves and jingling armor. The gates to the keep were open, and they rode through them, followed by the people who had managed to keep pace with them.  Éowyn wore a look of profound relief as she watched the riders head towards where a large group of people had fallen behind.
 
Their horses were taken by a youth, and Erin was glad to slide out of the saddle. Her legs had grown used to riding, but she was still sore from the pace they had set.  She followed Éowyn past the yard where the horses were kept and up the long stone stairs that led to the upper part of the deep.
 
It was really a fortress, Erin thought, looking curiously around her as she followed Éowyn past the battlements. She could see it was heavily protected by an outer wall, wide enough for a horse and cart, with a single entry point at the end of a long stone bridge. From the height of the wall, defenders could easily pick off any attackers with bows, and the bridge could be defended by a handful of well-armed men.  The gate itself was thick, nearly as thick as the outer wall, and made of heavy wood.  The keep was also stone, and protected by another wall, this one not nearly as wide as the first, and a large courtyard. A single door led to the inner fortress, and it was also thick and heavy.
 
“No one has ever breached the outer walls in all of our history,” Éowyn explained, noting her curiosity. “The fortress has proven impenetrable on more than one occasion.”
 
“Well, that’s a relief,” Erin said with a quick smile. “Because from the sound of things, something big and nasty is headed our way.”
 
Guardsmen nodded deferentially when Éowyn swept past them into the inner fortress, her quiet footsteps taking them to the main hall where Théoden and his advisors met.  Erin searched the group of men surrounding the king, and breathed a silent sigh of relief when she saw Aragorn’s familiar face bent in conversation with the king.  She did not see Legolas, Gimli or Gandalf, however, and felt her chest tighten painfully in fear and worry.
 
“Éowyn has brought your people to safety, my king,” Éomer announced proudly, smiling at the two women who stepped into the hall.
 
“It is a relief to see you again, my niece,” Théoden said. “I am glad to see that my messenger reached you in time.”  He reached out and clasped her hands warmly between his, looking up at her with pride. “You have done well, bringing the people here in safety.”
 
Aragorn stood, and returned Éowyn’s greeting politely, before turning to look at Erin. He gave her a quick smile.
 
“I am glad to see you have brought Erin with you, safe and sound.  The others will be glad to hear of it as well.”
 
“They’re here?” Erin blurted out before she could stop herself, and she felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment as Aragorn looked at her, smiling faintly.
 
“Aye, Lady. Gimli and Legolas are on the outer wall, most likely discussing their prowess in battle.”
 
“Oh!” she exclaimed, relieved. “But where is Gandalf?”
 
“He rides to the east,” Théoden answered gravely, his blue eyes troubled. “It is his hope to return with help, for the army of Saruman is much larger than what we knew.”

Erin swallowed and bowed to the king. “I hope he finds help then,” she said quietly.

“As do we all,” the king replied, his expression grave.
 
~ * ~
 
The battle was won, but at a great cost, Erin thought, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she struggled to carry the bucket of water to the infirmary. Nothing in her life had ever prepared her for the true horrors of war – the blood, the smell, and the reality of death. Even the movies she had watched what seemed like ages ago that depicted the horrors of war, did not compare in any way to the real thing. 
 
She managed to maintain a fragile grip on her sanity by helping the other women tend to the wounded, mainly by fetching and carrying things, since she had no true healing skills, but they were grateful for the extra set of hands. By keeping her mind and body busy, she did not have to dwell on the bodies of men and elves she had seen, or on the horrific stench of death that carried off of the fields below the fortress.  She would not allow herself to dwell on her fears, firmly keeping her thoughts to her tasks at hands. She would not worry about Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, though she had not seen them once since the battle had ended. She would not permit herself to think the worst.
 
Erin passed a group of fallen soldiers on her way back to the infirmary, trying not to look at their staring eyes and unnaturally pale faces, when the glimmer of long blonde hair caught her eye. Her bucket fell from her hands and she covered her mouth, blinking the tears of dismay and grief.  Her heart cried out in disbelief, denying what her eyes were seeing as she looked at the dead.
 
Long blonde hair, tangled and matted in blood, lay lifeless across the chest of another soldier, and with shaking fingers, she lifted the familiar gray cloak that covered the elf’s face.
 
It took her mind several moments to recognize what her eyes were telling her, and she gave a sob of relief as she realized that the elf laying motionless before her was not Legolas.  She lost her balance, falling painfully to her knees as she cried, tears of sadness mixed with profound relief dripped down her face, and she wiped at them with her dirty hands.
 
“Did you know him, lady?”
 
Erin looked up to see who had spoken and shook her head.
 
“No, I didn’t,” she replied, her voice tight from crying. “I thought it was someone else.”
 
Éomer squatted down beside her, his blue eyes sad as he looked at the elf before them.  “His name was Haldir, from Lothlórien. He brought the Elves to help us, honoring the old alliance between Elves and Men.”
 
Erin choked, dropping her head and looking away, feeling more tears building. It was just so awful, so unfair, and so horrible. She didn’t even know this elf, but grieved for his death nonetheless.  
 
Éomer did not know what to say to comfort her, but patted her shoulder awkwardly, before standing. 
 
“Leave the dead, lady,” he said softly. “They died bravely and with honor. They will be taken care of as is their due.”  He bent his head briefly, closing his eyes, then turned on his heel, leaving her alone to gather her composure.
 
Erin did not look at the elf, but took several deep breaths, trying to push her grief and horror back in her mind where she could deal with it later. She stood up to gather the bucket she had dropped and paused, her eyes dropping involuntarily to the dead elf.  Kneeling once more, she reached for his cloak to cover his face, and nearly screamed when his hand reached up and grabbed her wrist in a weak grip.  The gray eyes gradually focused on her, and she saw the pale lips move as he tried to speak.
 
“Shh!” she said, shaking badly from the fright he had given her. “Don’t try to talk.”  She looked wildly around and spotted one of the men of Rohan nearby.  “Help me!” she shouted, waving him over. 
 
The rider squatted down beside her and looked Haldir over critically. “I will get you a healer immediately. His wounds are bad, but may not be fatal if we act quickly enough,” he said roughly. “Stay with him, lady. Do not let him go.”  He took off at a run, headed for the infirmary.
 
Erin turned back to the pale elf, taking his hand between hers and holding it tightly. “You heard the man,” she said, trying to sound stern and failing miserably. “You have to stay with us, okay?”  Tears blurred her vision and fell from her eyes but she ignored them, holding eye contact with the badly wounded elf before her. 
 
Haldir managed to squeeze her fingers in return but did not speak. The pain was beyond anything he had experienced, and it was all he could do to remain awake.  His eyes closed briefly and he felt the woman squeeze his hand tighter.
 
“Don’t you die on me,” Erin said frantically. “Keep looking at me. Help is on the way.”  
His eyes opened and she was relieved to see that they were clearer than before. Keep talking, she thought desperately, give him something to listen to.
 
“You don’t know me,” she said, searching for something to say to the elf. “I’m not from around here. I guess you could say I’m a traveler of sorts.” She could see that he was focusing on her words, so she continued. “I was camping and I ended up here. Well, not here exactly, but on the plains of Rohan. Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli found me and saved me from an Orc.” She was babbling, and she knew it, but it seemed to be helping. “I don’t know why  I’m here, but Gandalf thinks I’m supposed to be here for some reason, so I guess that’s okay.  Éomer says you’re from Lothlórien and Legolas says that it’s the fairest place in the world, and I would really like to go there someday and see how beautiful it really is. Maybe Galadriel can tell me why I am here, because Gimli says she’s a very powerful lady who can do magic.”
 
Haldir listened to the steady flow of words pouring from the woman, understanding that her fear was making her babble, but not minding it. Her voice was soft but he found that if he concentrated on it, the pain was bearable and he did not feel himself sliding towards the abyss.
 
Help arrived in the form of Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and another elf she did not know, and Erin was relieved beyond words to see them.
 
The new elf bent down beside her, skilled hands settling on Haldir’s body, probing his injuries carefully.  Erin felt herself pulled away by a pair of gentle hands, and looked up to see Aragorn, his face both worried and relieved as he watched the healer tend to the elf.  He gave her a quick and searching look, before squatting down beside the healer.
 
“How fares Haldir, Elrohir?” the ranger asked, his concern apparent on his tired face.  He was relieved and overjoyed to see that Haldir was alive. He had seen the elf fall, taken down by a blow to his back, and had rushed to his side in time to see the light that shone in those gray eyes fade, but he had not had time to mourn the loss of his companion.  It gladdened his heart to see that the brave elf still lived.
 
The dark haired elf looked up with a grim but relieved expression. “It is good that she found him when she did. Had she not, I am afraid he would have passed from this world quite soon.”  He placed his hand gently on Haldir’s forehead, sending the wounded elf into a healing sleep and stood up. “He needs to be taken to the infirmary.”
 
Erin felt the gloom that had surrounded her since the battle lift slightly at his words.  “He’s going to live?” she asked hopefully. 
 
Elrohir nodded. “If it is the will of the Valar, he will heal.” He smiled briefly at the small woman. “I am glad you found him and stayed with him until we arrived. You have very likely saved his life.”
 
Haldir was taken away, carried gently by several Elves, each of whom thanked her for her help, before taking their captain to the infirmary. Erin was overwhelmed, and for the first time since the battle began, she felt a little less devastated by the experience.
 
Aragorn looked at her. “We will be leaving in two days for Gondor. The armies of Rohan and her people will return to Edoras,” he said finally. “Will you stay with them?”
 
“I don’t know,” Erin replied, finding the bucket she had dropped earlier and picking it up. “I probably should – I’m no use in battle, and that’s where you guys are headed, aren’t you?”  She shook her head, shock and exhaustion making it difficult for her to think. “But maybe I’m not supposed to stay behind. I don’t know.”
 
Aragorn nodded. “Perhaps you should sleep on it, lady. I do not know what decision is right, and I cannot make it for you.”
 
“Perhaps we should consult Gandalf,” Gimli said gruffly, leaning on his axe and looking up at them. 
 
“Aye,” Legolas agreed. “We should ask the wizard his counsel.”

Chapter 6
 
The wizard was pondering the question of what to do with Erin as he filled his pipe, carefully tapping the last bit of pipeweed into the bowl and tamping it down, unaware that his companions were wondering the same thing. He had spoken with Théoden, and the King of the Mark was not unwilling to take their companion with him back to Edoras, even though she was a stranger to this land, however Gandalf was not certain that it was the right choice for the woman. He was also uncertain as to whether or not the woman should accompany them to Gondor, especially given her lack of skills that would be necessary to the trip. 
 
He sighed, inhaling the pungent smoke from his pipe, thinking carefully over the situation. Perhaps there were more than two choices available to him. Perhaps a third choice was the answer.
 
Blowing a large smoke ring, Gandalf’s eyes fell on his staff, resting against the stone wall of the battlement he was sitting on. It had been a gift from the Lady of the Galadhrim, made to replace the one he had lost when he had fallen into shadow with the Balrog. She had given it to him, along with messages for his companions, before sending him onward with her blessing.
 
The wizard’s eyes opened wide, and he began to smile. That was the answer he was seeking, of course. It had been there all along, waiting for him to discover it.
 
He would send Erin back with the Elves to Lothlórien, to see the Lady of Light. Galadriel would know what to do with their strange traveler, and would perhaps be able to discover her purpose for being here as well. He knew they would be leaving as soon as their wounded were able to travel, to return their dead to their forest home and mourn their passing properly. He did not know if they would be joining battle that was to come against Sauron’s forces; so many of Elvenkind were leaving these shores for the fair lands of Valinor. But he hoped that some would remain, and would join their strength with the strength of men to defeat the evil that threatened all of Middle-Earth.
 
~ * ~
 
Erin changed into her jeans and sweater, folding the dress that Éowyn had loaned her carefully and laying it on her bed. All her clothing had been cleaned, and she was glad to have something familiar and comfortable to wear for the journey ahead.
 
Gandalf had told her his decision early this morning, and she had to admit, after he explained to her his reasoning for it, that it was the best idea she’d heard so far. She hated the thought of leaving Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas, since she considered them friends, but she knew for certain she didn’t want to go with them into the thick of battle. She’d seen enough bloodshed and dead bodies to last her for the rest of her life.
 
Éowyn had been troubled to hear she wasn’t returning with them to Edoras, but understood the reasons for it as well. The forest of the Elves was probably the safest place for someone like Erin to be. She’d given the lady of Rohan a quick hug and thanked her again, for being so kind to her. Éowyn had hugged her back, before leaving, hiding the tears in her eyes so her friend would not see them.
 
Erin eyed her pack, stuffing the last of her clothing in it before zipping it closed. She’d left the tent and camping gear out of it, hopefully making it lighter. She lifted it experimentally and nodded to herself, before slinging it over her shoulders and settling it into place.
 
Spending the next week or so in the company of Elves, a large portion of whom didn’t even speak her language, was going to be a challenge, she thought as she pushed open her door and made her way down the long hall. Maybe they’d teach her some of their language to help pass the time, she thought impishly, stepping out of the hallway and into the main corridor.  
 
She nodded to several familiar faces as she passed them, turning to smile at Donalla, who returned it with a smile of her own. She turned back and crashed into a rider who was standing directly in her path.
 
“I’m sorry!” she said, rubbing her nose where it had bumped into the unyielding surface of his armor. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”  She looked up to see who she had run into and gave a brief smile of recognition. “Oh, hello!”
 
Éomer looked down at the small woman and gave her a faint smile in return. “Are you all right, lady?” he asked, watching her rub her nose with a bemused look. 
 
“I’m fine. I should have been looking where I was walking,” Erin replied, embarrassed. “My mind is on other things, I guess.”
 
The handsome rider nodded, his blue eyes taking in her strange clothing with interest. “You are leaving with the Elves today?” he asked politely.
 
Erin nodded, shifting her pack slightly. “Yes, that’s what I was told, anyway.”  She grinned. “I’m probably holding up the parade.”
 
Éomer smiled. “Then I shall escort you to them, lady, so you do not run into anyone else.”  He offered his arm to her and she took it, her small hands resting on the curve of his bicep, and they began to walk. He glanced down at his companion from time to time, admiring the fine color of her hair and the fairness of her skin, enjoying how small she was compared to his own great height.
 
Erin became gradually aware of his looks and blushed slightly as she walked beside him. She had not noticed before how handsome he was, her mind being occupied by other things each time she had met him, and it made her feel strange, to be escorted by the tall rider as if she was a fine lady.  It was a pleasant feeling, she had to admit, straightening her shoulders slightly, wishing she were more graceful as she walked. Granted, she was leaving, and would probably never see Éomer again, but it was still fun to imagine that he might like her, just a little. 
 
His hands were large, she noticed, and the arm she held was firmly muscled, flexing slightly under her hand as they walked.  His hair was blonde, longer than she was used to seeing on men, reaching just past his shoulders. While it wasn’t the silky length of the Elves, she could see it was fine, and wondered if the texture of it was as soft as it looked. He wore a beard along the edge of his jaw, as did most of the men of Rohan, and it was slightly darker blonde than his hair.  He was considerably taller than she, and the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. 
 
He was aware of her regard, and as Éomer glanced down at his companion once more, he saw her cheeks were pink with embarrassment, and he smiled inwardly. She was leaving, and soon, and he would probably never see her again. Perhaps, he thought with a grin, he should give her something to remember of the Riders of the Mark.  He saw an empty alcove ahead of them, and decided to take advantage of the opportunity.
 
Erin squeaked in surprise as Éomer pulled her into the alcove, feeling his large hands envelop her small form with ease, pulling her pack from her shoulders and dropping it carelessly to the floor. Surprised at this unexpected maneuver, she looked up at him, a question forming on her lips.
 
Éomer saw her upturned face and kissed her, effectively silencing her unspoken question. Her lips were soft, parting slightly under his, and he took her silent invitation, brushing his tongue against hers. His hands stroked her back slowly as his mouth explored hers, and he felt her tremble against him. Reluctantly, he released her, stepping away from her to watch her reaction, wondering if he had gone too far.
 
Erin touched her lips with her fingers, looking at the handsome man with surprise, words failing her completely. She certainly hadn’t expected this.
 
“Please accept my apology, lady,” Éomer said finally, his voice low and his expression worried. “I should not have done that.”
 
Erin swallowed, dropping her hand to her side. “I – no, its okay, really. I just wasn’t expecting it.” She tilted her head slightly and smiled up at him. “I’m not mad.”
 
A slow smile lit Éomer’s features. “I am glad, then, lady, that you are not angry with me for giving into my impulse, sudden though it was.”
 
“Well, give me a little warning next time,” she said, blushing slightly at his grin.
 
“May I kiss you again, lady, before I escort you to the Elves?” he asked politely, although his eyes glittered with amusement.
 
Erin nodded shyly, and felt him pull her into his arms again. 
 
“You are so tiny,” he said, looking down at her with a faint smile. “I feel as if I might break you.”
 
Erin mentally snorted. She was not tiny, not in her mind, at least. But as his lips touched hers, she felt those thoughts leave her, and gave herself to the sensation of being kissed by the handsome rider. 
 
Éomer’s lips and hands were bolder, and he carefully explored what she had given him permission to explore. Her mouth opened willingly and he brushed his tongue against hers, feeling the velvety softness of it against his own as his hands swept down to firmly cup her bottom, pressing her against his body. She gave a sweet moan against his mouth, and the sound coursed through him like quicksilver.  He wrapped an arm around her small waist, lifting her slightly as he kissed her, his free hand sliding up her waist to cup the swell of her breast.
 
Erin gasped at the sensation of his large hand covering her, feeling her nipples harden through the fabric of her clothing. She knew she should stop this, for she barely even knew the man that was making her so aroused, and he was taking liberties with his hands, but somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from him. It had been so long since she had felt this way, and she gave herself over to the pleasurable havoc he was wreaking on her body. 
 
Éomer felt himself teetering on the edge of sanity, and knew he should stop before he ended up taking her against the stone wall of the alcove, although it was difficult to think rationally as he felt her sweet form press against his length. Finally, and with great reluctance, he released his hold on her lips, folding her trembling form against his body.
 
Part of her cried out in protest when Éomer pulled back, but Erin was quietly thankful that things had not gone any further, despite the fact that her body obviously wished otherwise. She could feel Éomer’s arousal against her belly, and smiled briefly. So, she thought, at least I’m not the only one all hot and bothered.
 
“Lady,” Éomer began.
 
“Hush,” Erin said, pulling back slightly so she could look up at his face. “You don’t have to say anything.” Her face was flushed with embarrassment, and she hoped he didn’t think she was some kind of cheap floozy for letting him grope her like that, and for enjoying it so much!
 
The blonde rider’s lips twitched briefly, and he gave her a nod. “All right,” he said finally, taking deep breath, “Shall we find the Elves, lady?”
 
She stepped out of his embrace, and gave herself a quick look, making sure nothing was out of place. She knew her lips were probably bruised and puffy looking from his kisses, but other than that, nothing showed that gave any indication of what she had been doing in the alcove with Éomer.
 
Erin looked up and nodded. “They’re probably wondering where I am.” She hoped that her face wouldn’t still be bright red by the time they reached the others.
 
He offered his arm once more, and she took it, grateful to have his support, as her knees felt rather wobbly.  They walked out of the fortress, and down the flight of steps that led to the courtyard below, and Erin saw that her friends were waiting, along with the group of Elves that were returning to Lothlórien.
 
I hate goodbyes, she thought as she drew near them, feeling the sinking sensation in her stomach grow with each step. I really do.
 
Éomer brought her to a halt in front of her friends and released his hold on her arm, bowing slightly.
 
“Safe journey, lady, until we meet again.”  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
 
Erin ducked her head slightly. “You too, Éomer. Take care.”  
 
The Marshall of the Third Mark gave her a quick smile and released her hand, striding swiftly away towards where the horses were stabled, his blonde hair shining in the sunlight of the courtyard.
 
Erin turned from watching him to look at her friends, hoping she hadn’t been too obvious.  Only Aragorn seemed to suspect that something was amiss, but he did not say anything, only raised his eyebrow slightly in question.
 
“I ran into him in the hall, and he was, er, kind enough to escort me here,” Erin explained to them with half-smile, her cheeks coloring slightly. 
 
Aragorn nodded. “It was well he found you, for had you not arrived when you had, I think you would have been left behind. The Elves are waiting for you.”
 
“I’m sorry,” Erin said ruefully. “I overslept.”
 
The ranger grunted in response, and motioned to the two tall Elves who were waiting nearby. “This is Rúmil and his brother Orophin. They are brothers to Haldir.”
 
She could see the resemblance in the two Elves that greeted her to the injured elf on the battlements, and she greeted them in return.
 
“How is Haldir?” she asked the tallest of the two, the one called Rúmil. 
 
“He fares well, for Elrohir has been with him constantly, and says he will recover from his wounds,” Rúmil answered, his voice soft, and his words clipped. “My brother and I will be your guardians until we reach the safety of Lothlórien.”
 
“I give you our thanks,” Orophin spoke, his voice slightly lower than his brother’s. “For your help in aiding our brother. We saw him fall in battle, and feared he was lost to us.”
 
Aragorn touched her shoulder lightly. “They will take good care of you, and bring you safely to the Lady,” he said, his expression serious. “You will be safe there.”
 
Erin nodded, twisting her fingers slightly in the material of her sweater. “Will I – will I ever see you guys again?” she asked hesitantly, looking up at the ranger, then glancing over at Gimli and Legolas. 
 
Aragorn shook his head. “I do not know if our paths will cross again, Erin.”
 
“That whole Valar thing, right?” Erin tried to laugh, but it got stuck in her throat. 
 
He gave her a brief hug. “Aye,” he replied. “You will be all right.”
 
She took a deep breath and gave him her bravest smile. “If you say so.”
 
The Dwarf was next, and he muttered under his breath as she hugged him, but she could tell he was pleased. “You take care of Legolas, Gimli,” she said as lightly as she could. “He needs you to keep him out of trouble.”
 
Gimli laughed, giving his friend a mock-glower from under his bushy brows. “Aye, lass. That is for certain.”
 
Legolas merely raised an eyebrow, regarding the Dwarf with bemused tolerance and affection. “I think you have it wrong, lady, for the Dwarf is far more likely to find himself in trouble than I.”
 
She hesitated in front of Legolas, uncertain if she should hug him or not.  He smiled, seeing her hesitation, and stepped forward to give her a quick embrace.
 
“Be safe, mellonen,” he said quietly, after he had released her. “Be careful.”
 
Erin gave him a brief smile and nodded. “Thank you, Legolas. I will.”  He was still so very beautiful standing there in front of her, but Erin found that instead of the confusing rush of longing she usually felt when she looked at him, she felt merely the warmth of friendship, and was grateful for it. “You too,” she added softly, giving him a warmer smile, before turning back to where Orophin and Rúmil waited.
 
“Where is Gandalf?” she asked, looking around for the wizard, having finally noticed his absence from the group. 
 
“Here, Erin,” the old man said, and she looked up to see him approach. “I had a few final matters to attend to before we leave.” He came to a stop and smiled gently down at her. “I am glad I did not miss your parting, for I do not know if we will ever meet again.”
 
He handed her the small bundle he was carrying and she took it from him curiously. “What is this?” she asked.
 
“Clothing from Éowyn, made in the style the shield-maidens favor. She said it would be more comfortable for you when the weather turns cold,” Gandalf said. “Apparently she forgot to give it to you when you said your goodbyes.”
 
Erin felt tears prick her eyes and she blinked, trying to clear them. “That was awfully kind of her.  Please tell her thank you for me.”
 
The wizard nodded, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I wish you safe journey, Erin, strange traveler. I hope that the Lady Galadriel has the answers you need, and that you find your purpose here.”
 
~ * ~
 
Travel was slow with the wounded, Erin realized, glancing back at the long line of Elves behind her, several bearing stretchers that carried their injured companions. Further back, she knew, were the wagons that carried their dead.  The air of sadness that hung above the group was nearly tangible, although the faces of the Elves grew lighter with each step that carried them closer to their home.
 
She heard their voices speaking softly to one another as they journeyed, some on horseback, some on foot, and she listened intently to the words, although she did not understand them. Their language was as beautiful as they were, melodic and soothing to the ear, and Erin wished she knew what they were saying.
 
The horses had been a gift from the king; a token of his thanks for their help in the battle of Helm’s Deep, and although he did not have enough to spare for all of them, Erin didn’t think they minded much – they seemed to be tireless, walking all day from sunrise to sunset without pause, carrying their burdens behind them.
 
Erin was grateful for the horses. She knew she would never have been able to keep up with the Elves otherwise.  She most definitely did not have their seemingly endless supply of energy.  Even riding all day wore her out, and she had fallen asleep the last two nights the moment her head had hit the ground.
 
“How much further is it?” she asked Rúmil, who rode behind her today. She had taken turns riding with the two brothers, and found that Rúmil was usually more talkative than his older brother. 
 
“We should reach the borders by tomorrow afternoon, at this pace,” he answered, his breath tickling her ear. “And spend tomorrow night resting beneath the trees.”
 
Erin sighed wistfully. “I can hardly wait to see it.  Tell me about the woods again, Rúmil?”
 
She heard the elf chuckle softly. “The trees are silver and gold, and taller than any other on Arda. Their branches spread out and form a canopy above the forest floor, and are so grand that we have built our homes upon them,” he said quietly, his eyes distant. “Nighttime is like twilight on the plains; it is never completely dark, and the lights of Caras Galadhon shine like the stars.”
 
Erin sighed again, leaning comfortably against the strong elf that rode behind her, feeling his arm holding her securely around her middle to keep her from falling from the bare back of the horse. Both brothers had been exceedingly kind to her, and traveling with them wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be. She missed her friends, but found the company of the two Elves to be pleasant. They made an effort to talk to her, to make her feel welcome among their party, and she appreciated it. It would have been almost unbearably lonely otherwise. 
 
Surrounded by the unearthly beauty of all these male elves, Erin found that her initial reactions to them had mostly faded to a tolerable level. She still had to deal with the occasional pounding heart and breathless state when one of them so much as looked at her, but it was not as frequent. It had been difficult for her to ride with Orophin on the first day, having his lean thighs pressing against her backside as they rode, his arm resting just below her ribcage to hold her securely so she wouldn’t fall, the motion of the horse rocking their bodies together. She simply wasn’t used to being this close to another male, especially a male that looked like Orophin and his brother, and it had left her with queer butterflies in her stomach on more than one occasion, especially whenever Orophin’s arm tightened against her.  The routine of it, thankfully, slightly lessened the effects of his proximity, as well as the need to just concentrate on staying on board the animal, and Erin now found herself mostly comfortable with their closeness.
 
She had been surprised to find out that Elves typically didn’t ride with saddles, and found it difficult to balance on the bare back of the tall bay that they shared. It was a good thing she had him to steady her, or she would have fallen on her face – several times.  She wished she’d had the time for Éowyn to teach her how to ride.
 
A runner approached them, moving easily to the side of their horse and dropping to a swift walk beside them.
 
“Haldir is awake,” the elf reported to Rúmil with a grin. “He is asking to see you and Orophin.”
 
She felt Rúmil lean back slightly, bringing their horse to a halt. “We will rest here for a moment then,” he replied, sliding off their mount in an easy motion.  He reached up for Erin, lifting her off the back of the horse as if she weighed nothing, and set her gently on the ground. 
 
Erin looked up at the tall elf, and smiled at his relieved expression. “That’s good news!” 
 
Rúmil nodded, tucking one of his braids behind his ear. “Aye, it is,” he replied with a brief grin that lightened his normally serious expression. “Come. I am certain he would like to speak with you as well.”  He pulled Erin behind him, taking her hand with his. “How long has he been awake, Galen?” he asked the messenger, who had fallen in step beside them.
 
“Only a few moments,” Galen replied. “He is already complaining about being carried,” he added with a light laugh.
 
Rúmil chuckled. “I am not surprised. My brother does not like being weak and helpless.”
 
Orophin joined them, and Erin saw, like Rúmil, his expression was much lighter. The four of them reached the stretcher that carried Haldir, and Erin fell back slightly, watching the three brothers greet each other, not wishing to intrude on what should be a private moment. Though their words were spoken in their own language, she understood the concern and relief that was readily apparent in their tone and expressions.

Rúmil dropped gracefully beside the stretcher that held his brother, a smile tilting the corners of his mouth. “It is good to see you awake, muindor,” he said lightly, laying his hand briefly on Haldir’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I am glad to see you are well.”
 
“Aye,” Orophin added, crouching on the opposite side of the stretcher. “You had us worried there for a while.”  He gave a soft chuckle. “I am glad I will not have to tell the Lady how her favorite warden fell.”
 
Haldir scowled under his brother’s gentle teasing, but his eyes remained bright. “I am glad you are both alive and well. I see you both managed to keep your own skins intact.”
 
“Aye,” Rúmil retorted. “For we listened when Aragorn told us to retreat to the keep. Unlike some who felt they had to kill just one more Orc before leaving.”
 
Orophin shook his head, unable to resist adding, “You did not need any more glory to add to your long list of accomplishments, muindor. They are impressive enough. One more Orc or less will not diminish your standing as the best warrior of the woods.”
 
Haldir gave a short laugh. “I must, if I am to keep ahead of you two!”
 
Rúmil gave Orophin a sly grin. “True enough, for while you were resting, we finished the battle without you.”
 
The marchwarden sighed, “I can see there will be no living with you two now. Perhaps I should resign my position as Captain before I loose it to one or both of you.”
 
Orophin’s eyes widened. “Never!” he declared, his brother echoing the same just as forcefully. Their vehement denials brought another chuckle from their brother’s lips. His eyes noticed, for the first time, a third individual, standing back shyly from them.
 
“Who is this?” he asked, raising his hand and beckoning her forward, raising his eyebrow in curiosity. 
 
“Do you not recognize your rescuer?” Rúmil teased lightly, reaching up to draw Erin forward towards his brother. “This is Erin Smith, the lady who found you when all thought you had passed from this world.”
 
Haldir’s gray eyes studied the short, human woman who stood uncertainly beside his youngest brother. She was fair, for a human, although strangely garbed, but her hesitant smile warmed him.
 
“I give you my thanks, Lady, for your help,” he said honestly. “I do not recall very much, I am afraid, except hearing your voice. Will you tell me what happened?”
 
Rúmil pulled Erin down beside him so that she sat on the ground beside Haldir’s stretcher.  The young woman took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking.
 
“I was carrying water back to the infirmary when I passed you,” Erin began softly. “All I could see was your hair – the color of it caught my attention.”  She glanced down at her hands and swallowed. “I thought you were someone else, until I pulled your cloak back and saw your face.” She left unsaid how relieved she was that it wasn’t Legolas lying there. “Éomer told me who you were, and that you had brought the Elves to fight. He told me not to grieve, for you had died bravely.”  Erin closed her eyes, fighting against the sudden surge of sadness that threatened to overwhelm her as she recalled the aftermath of the battle. “I went to cover your face – it’s a respectful thing in my land, to cover the faces of the dead – and you grabbed my hand.”  She opened her eyes again and managed a smile. “You scared the hell out of me.”
 
Haldir read the pain and sorrow in her eyes easily, and wondered what a child had been doing in the midst of a battle such as the one at Helm’s Deep. Obviously she was a stranger to the trials of war, if her state of grief was any indication. He nodded for her to continue.
 
“I yelled for help, because I didn’t want to leave you. Someone ran for a healer, and he told me not to let you go. So I talked to you.” Erin felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I babbled, mostly. You probably don’t remember any of it, which is fine, since it wasn’t anything important.”
 
“You told me you were lost,” Haldir replied quietly. “I remember that.”
 
She nodded. “You could say that. I’m about as lost as a person can get,” she managed a weak smile. “Gandalf is sending me with you guys to see Lady Galadriel. He’s hoping she’ll know why I’m here.”  And maybe, Erin thought silently, she’ll know how the heck to send me back.
 
Haldir realized she talked differently than what he was accustomed to hearing in other humans.  “Where are you from?”
 
Rúmil and Orophin both looked at her expectantly, for Gandalf had not given them much in detail about their strange ward, other than she was a traveler, and that he felt she should go with them.
 
Erin shrugged, wondering how to answer his question. “I’m from a place called Washington, in a country called America, neither of which exists in your world.”
 
Both of Haldir’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “My world?”
 
She gestured vaguely with her hands, indicating their surroundings. “This place, where we are right now, is not my world. I’m from another place and time entirely.” She didn’t even think she wanted to get into the whole Tolkien books and movie thing with him.
 
Haldir looked at both his brothers, who gave him faint shrugs in return. Finally he looked back at the woman. “I am sorry that you are lost. I hope my Lady will be able to help you.”
 
“You and me both,” Erin replied with a short laugh. “You and me both.”
 
~ * ~
 
The stopped for the evening next to a small river, and Erin was glad to slide off the bony back of the horse, feeling as if the animal’s spine had been trying to split her in half.
 
“Ow,” she whimpered, feeling sore in places she didn’t even want to think about. 
 
“Are you well?” Rúmil asked with concern, watching her closely as she limped beside him.
 
Erin glanced at him, and shook her head. “I think I’m crippled,” she said with a pained smile. “I wish you guys would use saddles. They’re not so hard on a body.”
 
The corner of Rúmil’s mouth twitched upwards in a grin. “Ah, I understand,” he said, nodding at their horse that now grazed placidly with the others. “Mírhrod does have a rather prominent spine, for such a fine beast.”
 
Erin snorted. “You could say that.”  
 
Rúmil laughed. This woman was so different than the She-Elves he knew. She was small, but there was nothing dainty or delicate about her personality, and he found himself wondering if all women from her world were of similar temperament.  Still laughing, he captured her hand and tucked it against his arm as they walked to where the others had gathered to eat.
 
Elves are a touchy-feely lot, Erin noted with amusement when Rúmil took her hand. Not that she minded. She could think of worse things than having a handsome elf holding her hand and escorting her around. She actually found their casual touching refreshing, because it was something so totally different from her own world, where people did not touch each other unless they were close friends or family.  People in my world are just too uptight most of the time, she thought with an inward smile. Touch someone casually and they think you’re coming on to them, or worse.  She patted his arm gently, just because she could, and earned a smile from him. He was so much happier now that Haldir was on the mend, and it made her own heart glad to see him that way. 
 
Rúmil led his charge to where Orophin sat, making his older brother scoot over on the rock to make room for her.  Orophin growled in mock irritation, but moved nonetheless, giving Erin a quick smile when he thought Rúmil wouldn’t see. 
 
“Tell me we have something to eat besides Lembas?” Erin asked hopefully, taking the spot that Orophin had made for her. His lean thighs brushed against hers and she could feel the warmth of his body, and to her dismay, she felt the familiar quivering sensation in her midsection at his nearness. Good grief, girl. Get a grip, she told herself firmly. It’s just been too long, and Éomer’s kissing you didn’t help any.  
 
Oblivious to the inner dialog going on inside the young woman’s mind, Rúmil and Orophin shared a grin. 
 
“Well, one of the hunters brought down a deer,” Orophin said.
 
“And another caught some hares,” Rúmil added, watching her face light up with delight. “So I believe that Galen and Melaphríl have managed to cook something for us to eat besides Lembas.”
 
Erin’s mouth was practically watering at the thought. “Sounds wonderful,” she said honestly. “Can I help them at all? Is there anything I can do?”
 
Rúmil laughed. “I do not think so, but Orophin has a surprise for us as well.”
 
She turned to the elf beside her, her eyebrows raised expectantly. “What is it?”
 
Orophin scowled, but his eyes twinkled with mischief. “How do you know I wished to share, Rúmil?”
 
Erin poked playfully him in the arm. “Too late now to be selfish, Orophin. What is it?”
 
Orophin captured the finger that was poking him and held it in a tight grip, laughing as she tried to pull it free. “You will see, eager one.”
 
She stuck her tongue out at him and managed to pull her finger out of his grasp, ignoring the way her heart fluttered and skittered madly in her ribs. I’m going to need a cold shower if this keeps up, she thought, feeling suddenly miserable. She looked away from Orophin’s cheerful face.
 
Orophin saw her face cloud over and wondered at her sudden change of mood. He had been enjoying the playful side he and his brother had managed to tease out of her, and now it was gone. In its place was the sober, saddened woman they had been traveling with for the past few days.
 
Erin felt Rúmil move to her other side, squatting easily at her knees as he tried to catch her eye. He too, had seen the sudden change that had taken place, and was confused by it.
 
“What is wrong, meldis?” Orophin asked quietly. “What troubles you?”
 
Rúmil’s hands reached up and patted her knees. “Talk to us,” he said. “Please.”
 
Erin choked on the inane giggle that threatened to bubble up within her. How could she tell them that she was slowly being driven insane by lustful urges?  God help me! If Éomer were here right now I’d jump his bones, ladylike or not!  She took a deep breath and looked up into Rúmil’s worried eyes.
 
“I’m sorry,” she managed. “I’m just feeling a little homesick right now,” she lied smoothly. “I didn’t mean to make you guys worry.”  She gave them both a quick grin, relieved at how easy it was to fool them. “I’m okay. Really.”
 
“We miss our home as well,” Orophin said kindly, “That is something we can understand.”  
 
“Aye,” Rúmil replied. “But I think you should tell her what your surprise is, muindor. She needs something to cheer her up, and make her forget about feeling homesick.”
 
Erin’s head lifted as Orophin reached behind the rock and pulled out a sack. He placed it her lap, and she heard the contents of it sloshing. “What is it?” she asked, pulling at the ties that held the sack closed. “Oh!”
 
The bottle was made of green glass and finely made, and she held it up to the dwindling sunlight to peer curiously at the liquid contents within.
 
“It is wine from Théoden’s cellar,” Rúmil said with a grin. “Orophin found it when he was searching for the food stores, and did not think the King would mind if he borrowed it.”
 
Erin lifted an eyebrow. “Borrowed? Lifted it, more like,” she couldn’t help but snicker.
 
Orophin looked offended. “I feel it is just compensation for our aide to his people. He will surely not miss one bottle of wine, since he had so many.”
 
She had to laugh. “I’m sure he won’t mind, if he even notices.”  She put the bottle back in the cloth bag and handed it back to him. “For after dinner?” she asked, and he nodded at her. 
 
“We will have to find some place private to drink it,” Rúmil added. “Or we will have to share it with our comrades, and there is certainly not enough to go around.”
 
“That’s terrible, Rúmil.” Erin said, her mood lightening considerably. “Just terrible. How thoughtless of you, Orophin, to not ‘borrow’ enough bottles for the entire group,” she teased.
 
The blonde elf lifted an eyebrow at her. “And how was I supposed to carry that many bottles of wine unnoticed by the King’s steward, among others?”
 
Erin couldn’t resist. “Very carefully,” she said with a dead-pan expression.
 
She was relived to see that some types of humor were not limited to her world alone, and she joined the brothers in their laughter.
 
~ * ~
 
Haldir walked carefully towards the main gathering of Elves, his wound paining him slightly with each step, but not enough to keep him from joining his warriors. Elrohir had pronounced him fit enough to walk short distances, and that was enough for him. He knew the healer walked behind him, but did not mind the other elf keeping a watchful eye. It was just as well that the distance between where he had been laying and the other Elves was not too far, for he could feel himself beginning to weaken as he reached the edge of the gathering.
 
“Haldir!” a voice cried joyfully, and he saw Rúmil approach him, beaming. “You are up!”  His younger brother shifted his empty plate into his other hand and took the marchwarden’s arm, supporting him as he walked him the rest of the way. “Orophin and Erin are over there, still eating. They will be glad to see you.”
 
“Did they leave me anything to eat?” Haldir asked with a quick smile. “Elrohir said the hunters caught some game, and I am wholly tired of eating Lembas.”
 
Rúmil laughed. “I imagine there is enough left to feed you, muindor. I will bring you a plate.” 
 
Orophin looked up from his food and saw Haldir and Rúmil approaching, and he gave them both a pleased smile. “Haldir, come join us!”
 
Erin glanced up at Orophin’s words, and saw the marchwarden leaning on his brother’s arm. Quickly she stood. “He can have my seat,” she offered. “I’m done eating.”
 
Orophin pulled her back down beside him. “You stay. Haldir can have my seat. I need to check the watches for this night, but I will be back.”  He rose from his seat and gave his older brother a quick embrace. “It is good to see you walking again,” he said with a smile, before releasing him. “I will be back shortly.”
 
Haldir nodded, touched at both his brothers’ concern for him. He had not realized before just how much they truly cared for him.  He watched Orophin’s retreating back for a moment, before Rúmil pushed him gently down on the rock beside Erin.
 
“I will bring you some food, muindor. Stay here and keep our Erin company. She is feeling homesick,” he said lightly, touching the young woman’s shoulder briefly before leaving.
 
Erin sighed and watched him go, feeling the marchwarden shift uncomfortably next to her.  She turned to look at him, seeing his lips tighten in discomfort. “Are you okay?” she asked.
 
Haldir nodded shortly. “I will be all right,” he answered, looking up at her with a rueful grin. “I am just sore from my injuries. It is difficult to get comfortable.”
 
“I know the feeling,” Erin replied with a small smile. “After riding bareback for three days, I know the feeling very well.”
 
A silence fell between them, and neither knew what to say next.  Haldir was not familiar to her; she had not gotten to know him as she had Rúmil and Orophin, and she did not know how similar or different his personality was.  
 
“It seems you have won my brothers’ affections,” Haldir commented softly, his eyebrow rising slightly. “They seem to feel quite protective of you.”
 
Erin shrugged, her cheeks flushing slightly under his keen regard. “I don’t know about that. They seem to put up with me, and I appreciate how kind they’ve been.” She glanced down at her hands. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know them.”
 
“I think they do more than ‘put up with you’,” Haldir gently chided. “My brothers do not give their affection lightly.”
 
“Do you have any sisters?” she asked, glancing up at him. 
 
Haldir shook his head. “No, we do not.”
 
Erin gave him a quick smile. “They probably see me as the little sister they always wanted.”
 
Haldir’s lips quirked briefly. “I do not recall either of them ever wishing for a sister,” he said, shaking his head. “But perhaps you are right.”  He tilted his head slightly. “What about you? Do you have any siblings?”
 
It was Erin’s turn to shake her head. “No, I’m an only child.” She grinned, “Lucky me.”
 
The marchwarden chuckled. “When I was growing up, there were times I wished I did not have brothers, but now I can appreciate them. They are the only family I have left here.”
 
Erin’s smile faded. “Your parents are dead?” she asked hesitantly, feeling bad that the topic had even been brought up.
 
Haldir gave her a brief but sad smile. “No. They left for the Gray Havens when I was still young. I raised my brothers with the help of the Lord and Lady.”
 
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Your parents just left you? How could they do that?”
 
Haldir’s eyes darkened and he shrugged, looking away momentarily. “They felt the call of the Sea, though they resisted it as long as they could. Many of our people have left these lands for fairer shores; they are not the first.”
 
Erin felt terrible. “I’m sorry, Haldir,” she said, touching his arm briefly. “I didn’t mean to bring up a bad memory.”
 
He turned back to her and gave her a wry smile. “It has been several hundred years since they left,” he told her reassuringly. “I miss them, but I know I will see them again some day, when I leave these shores myself.”
 
“Several hundred years?” she asked weakly, her eyes wide. “How long do Elves live?”
 
Haldir blinked at her, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “Elves are immortal, lady. Unless we are killed, we can live forever.”
 
“I didn’t know that,” Erin said faintly, shaking her head. 
 
“Did not know what?” Rúmil asked, finally returning with a plate for Haldir. He handed it to his brother, who eyed it appreciatively. 
 
Erin glanced up at the handsome elf standing across from them, looking for any signs of his possible age and seeing none. She would have guessed he was a little older than she, but now she knew he had to be much, much older. By several hundred years. The thought staggered her.
 
“Erin did not know that Elves are immortal,” Haldir explained, taking a small bite of food and chewing it with obvious relish. 
 
Rúmil’s dark eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Truly? You have no Elves in your world?”  He took a seat, sprawling comfortably on the ground at their feet. 
 
Erin hid a smile at his undignified posture. “No, Rúmil. Only in fairy tales do Elves exist in my world. And it’s too bad, actually.” She couldn’t resist adding, “Although you’d have human women and probably a few human men as well chasing after you constantly.”
 
Rúmil gave her a sly wink. “I do not think that would be too terrible a thing.”
 
Haldir nearly choked on his bite of carrot. “You would if one of them caught you, muindor.”
 
Rúmil ignored him. “Tell me a fairy tale about Elves from your world,” he asked, propping his chin on his hands and looking up at her with a hopeful expression.
 
Erin snickered behind her hand, wondering which story she should tell. The Elves and the Shoemaker? The Legend of Saint Nicholas?  She swallowed her mirth, shaking her head. She could not tell these graceful beings stories about little people with curly-toed shoes who granted wishes or made toys. Instead, she thought of the stories she had read about the Fair Folk who lived under the hill, in particular the story of Thomas the Rhymer, who had so enchanted their Queen with his singing that she had taken him to live under the hill with them. It had been one of her favorites as a girl.
 
“True Thomas sat on Huntley Bank, a marvel he spied with his eye; and there he saw a lady bright, come riding down by the Eildon Tree,” she began softly. “Her skirt was made of grass-green silk, her mantle of velvet fine. And on every strand of her horse’s mane hung fifty silver bells and nine.”   It was not truly a story, she realized belatedly, but more a poem. She hoped they would not mind.
 
“True Thomas took off his cap and bowed low down to his knee. ‘Hail to the Mary, Queen of Heaven! For they peer on earth never be.’  ‘Oh no, oh no, Thomas,’ said she. ‘That name does not belong to me; I am but the Queen of Fair Elfland that has come to visit thee.’”
 
Erin’s eyes were closed, and she did not realize she had both Elves rapt attention as she recited the poem she had learned as a child. 
 
Haldir had put his empty plate beside him and listened with interest to the woman’s story from her own world. Her soft voice had taken on a chanting cadence as she spoke.
 
“ ‘Play and sing, Thomas,’ she said. ‘Play and sing along with me; and if you dare to kiss my lips, sure of your body I will be.’”
 
Rúmil was lost in the story that unfolded, as Thomas gave into the Queen’s request, and went willingly with her, to serve penance for seven years for taking the kiss she offered.
 
“And do you see the bonny road that winds about the trees? That is the road to fair Elfland, where you and I this night will be.”
 
Orophin approached them, his greeting dying on his lips as he saw both his brothers warn him to silence, before returning their attention to Erin. He sat silently beside Rúmil, looking up at the woman; she did not notice his arrival as her eyes were closed.
 
“But Thomas you must hold your tongue, whatever you may hear or see. For if you speak nary a word in Elfenland, you will never return to your own country.  On they rode, and father on, and waded waters above the knee, and they saw neither sun nor moon, but they heard the roaring of the sea.”
 
Orophin’s attention was quickly caught, although he had missed the first part of the tale. Erin’s voice had dropped low and harsh as she spoke the next verse, her eyes closed tightly.
 
“It was dark, dark night, there was no starlight, and they waded through red blood to the knee; for all the blood that is shed on the earth runs through the springs of that country.”
 
Haldir shuddered slightly at the image her words provoked. This was no tale of fair Elven lands, but one of a folk who lived below the world of men.
 
“He was given a coat of dark blue cloth and shoes of velvet green, and ‘til seven years had gone and past, True Thomas on earth was never seen,” Erin finished softly, her voice dropping away as she opened her eyes.  Three pairs of gray-blue eyes blinked slowly, as if gradually awakening.  Their expressions were unreadable, and she wondered if she’d offended them.
 
“The Elves in your tales do not sound very nice,” Orophin finally ventured. “We would never hold someone captive for seven years just because they kissed one of us.”
 
Erin’s head dropped. “I’m sorry you didn’t like it,” she muttered, kicking herself for not choosing the Elves and the Shoemaker instead. At least those Elves were kindly.
 
“I did not say we did not like it,” Orophin protested. “It was lovely. Just different.”
 
“Aye,” Haldir agreed, giving her a quick smile. “Quite different, but I enjoyed hearing you recite it nonetheless.”
 
Rúmil nodded, adding his own thoughts. “Your Queen reminded me a bit of the Lady at first, until she told Thomas he had to go with her for seven years. Galadriel would not do that.”
 
Orophin laughed. “Aye, and Lord Celeborn would not like it much if she went out seducing minstrels and dragging them home with her.”
 
Erin crossed her arms, lifting her eyebrow. “It’s supposed to be an allegory tale about the sins of temptation,” she said, hiding her smile. “But I agree. She wasn’t very nice.”
 
“Do you know any others?” Rúmil asked her, pulling his knees under him.
 
She sighed. “I do, but I don’t think I’m up to another recital tonight. Can I save it for another time?”  She was still disappointed that at their reaction to the story, although she tried to hide it.
 
Haldir nodded. “Aye, lady, for I must return to my bed. I am weary and pained from sitting on this rock, although I have greatly enjoyed the company.”  He patted her hand briefly before standing up, stretching his sore muscles carefully.
 
“I will walk you back,” Rúmil offered, laying his arm across Haldir’s broad shoulders. 
 
“Good night, Haldir. Have a pleasant rest,” she called, watching them as they walked towards the marchwarden’s bedroll, Rúmil supporting his brother carefully.
 
Orophin stood, stretching his lean frame before brushing the stray bits of grass that had clung to his legs from sitting on the ground.  With a smile, he leaned over Erin and reached for the sack that held the wine.
 
Erin held her breath as Orophin’s hair brushed against her face, wishing she could control her body’s reaction to his nearness. She carefully schooled her expression when he stepped back, holding the sack up with a grin.
 
“Should we wait for Rúmil?” she asked, glancing in the direction the two Elves had taken before looking back at Orophin.
 
He shook his head. “He knows where we will be. It will not take him long to meet us.” He reached for her hand and she gave it to him, letting him pull her to her feet. “Come,” he said. “Let us go and enjoy the gifts of grape.”
 
Orophin’s long fingers enfolded hers as he tugged her along behind him, laughing as she tried to keep up with his longer legs. She could not see in the darkness that had fallen, and was almost running, blindly following his lead.  She did not see the rock in her path until she tripped on it, stumbling clumsily.
 
He caught her easily before she fell, gripping her firmly around the waist and steadying her. Orophin felt her breath quicken beneath his hands and he looked down at her curiously.
 
“Are you all right?” he asked worriedly, wondering if she hurt herself.
 
Erin felt his large hands around her waist, the warmth of his body standing so close, and was unable to prevent the tremble that went through her. Damn it, she thought, feeling angry tears well up in her eyes. Why do I have to be so attracted to him?
 
“I stubbed my toe,” she lied, blinking the tears away rapidly. “It just smarted for a moment. I’m fine.”
 
Orophin had felt her tremble against his hands but was uncertain what to make of it. “I will go slower,” he said finally, releasing her and taking her hand once more.
 
She was grateful he could not see her face as she struggled to curtail her emotions. It seemed to her suddenly that perhaps drinking wine with two handsome Elves would not be such a good idea, especially since she tended to get tipsy rather easily. She did not want to loose her hard won control around them.
 
“Orophin,” she said, tugging at his hand to stop him. “Maybe I should just call it a night. I’m tired.”
 
He turned back to her and regarded her closely. “I think you should have some wine first, meldis. It will help you sleep.”
 
She shook her head. “I’ll sleep just fine without it.”
 
Orophin looked at her, a small frown crossing his lips. “Why are you afraid of me?” he asked softly, tugging on her hand and pulling her closer so he could see her face more clearly. “Have I done something to upset you?”
 
“No,” Erin answered, feeling her knees begin to shake. “I’m not afraid of you.”  She dropped her head, unable to bear his sharp gaze.
 
“You are trembling,” he said, drawing her even closer. “Tell me why.”
 
Erin would not lift her head. “I’m tired,” she repeated, starting when she felt his fingers lift her chin. “I’m…”  The words died on her lips as she found his face inches from hers.
 
“Tired?” he finished softly, a smile curving his lips. “I do not think that is what ails you, Erin.  I have lived over a thousand years, and I know desire when I see it.”
 
Erin jerked her face away, trying to pull back from him. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, her throat choking. “I can’t seem to help it, though God knows I’ve tried.”
 
Orophin pulled her back. “Why?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Why do you fight it?”
 
She blinked, trying to think as he looked at her, his face unreadable. “I’m…I’m afraid,” she whispered finally.
 
He reached up and touched her face with gentle fingers, brushing her cheek softly. “You should not be afraid, Erin,” he said, his lips curving into a smile. “There is nothing to be afraid of.”
 
Erin felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car as Orophin bent his head, brushing his lips against hers ever so lightly, once, twice, before releasing her, leaving her breathless, her mouth still tingling from his touch.
 
“Come,” Orophin smiled warmly down at her. “Share some wine with my brother and myself. You will be happier for it, I think, and I know we would enjoy your company.”
 
She was having difficulty forming a coherent thought.  He had just kissed her, and did not seem to be troubled by it. On the contrary, he seemed to be quite pleased with himself.  Slowly she nodded, and allowed him to take her hand once more. He tucked it against his arm so that she walked beside him, instead of behind him.
 
Orophin was pleased to have finally discovered what had been ailing his companion, and found he was not unhappy at the reason for it. It had been a long time since he had been with another, and he did not find Erin unattractive. Although she had not the beauty of his kin, she was fair for her race, he found her interesting and pleasant to be with, and her small body had intrigued him ever since he had ridden with her on that first morning. If she was willing, he would not be averse to sharing physical pleasure with her, and perhaps it would help lighten her heart.
 
Rúmil was waiting for them in the glade, grinning as he watched their approach. “What kept you?” he asked smugly, delighting in the fact that he had beat them here. 
 
Orophin answered his smile. “Erin stubbed her toe,” he said, giving her hand a brief squeeze. “I forgot she does not have the benefit of our eyesight in the darkness.”
 
“Are you hurt?” Rúmil asked, reaching up to pull her down to sit on the grass beside him. 
 
“No,” Erin answered shortly, still slightly confused by Orophin’s kiss. “I’m fine.” She gave him a quick smile.
 
“You will feel better after this,” Orophin handed her a cup that he had filled with the wine he had carried. She took it from him carefully, and took a cautious sip.
 
Bold and spicy flavor exploded over her tongue, and she found herself smiling at the taste of it. “This is good,” she exclaimed, taking another sip. 
 
“It should be,” Rúmil snorted, taking the cup his brother offered him. “It is from the King’s cellar, after all.”
 
Orophin filled his own cup and set the bottle aside. He raised his cup at his companions in a salute. “To the generosity of the King,” he said with a smile, and took a drink from his cup.

Chapter 7
 
Erin watched the flames flicker over the dry wood, admiring the sharp contrast of the deep reds and oranges against the dark night around them, and shivered slightly, scooting closer to its warmth. Rúmil had built the fire to help ward off the chill of the night, but a light breeze had kicked up, blowing chill caresses across the back of her neck.
 
“Are you cold?” Rúmil asked, sliding closer and wrapping his arm across her shoulders to share his warmth.
 
She dropped her head and contemplated her half-full cup of wine, wondering how much of it she had consumed between the jokes and stories the brothers had shared with her. Orophin kept refilling her cup, and she had quickly lost track.  Feeling as if her brain was packed in cotton batting, she nodded, leaning into his welcome warmth with more feeling than she would have normally shown.
 
I should never have let them talk me into this, she thought fuzzily, feeling Rúmil’s hand sliding up and down her arm in slow, lingering strokes. The rational side of her brain struggled to the surface. I think I’m in trouble.
 
Rúmil glanced over her dark head to meet his brother’s gaze and he lifted his eyebrow in a silent question.

The corner of Orophin’s mouth twitched briefly in a smile and he nodded, leaning over to whisper in Erin’s ear. “We can keep you warm, if you wish.”
Orophin’s warm breath tickled her ear caressingly, and it sent delightful jolts of pleasure through her body. She licked her lips, trying to think past her body’s reaction for the numerous reasons why that would be a very bad idea.

When Rúmil touched her cheek, turning her face towards his, she found she couldn’t think of a single one. 

He studied her face intently, seeing the reflection of the fire in her soft brown eyes and heard her sudden intake of breath as his thumb gently caressed her lips. Slowly he bent his head and tasted her, feeling her body tremble against his as he explored the softness of her mouth.

Orophin watched his brother kiss the young woman with a mixture of curiosity and desire. He could not remember how long it had been since he had shared another with his brother, and he found himself hoping that Erin would be willing to partner them both before the night was done.

Erin felt Rúmil draw back, and suddenly she could breathe again, although her heart was pounding so loudly she wondered if the two Elves could hear it. She closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath, and opened them once more. Two pairs of gray-blue eyes were regarding her expectantly, wondering what she would do next.

“I have to ask something,” Erin said finally, struggling to make her mouth and brain function together, which was no mean feat in itself. “Before this goes any further.”
 
Orophin’s eyebrow rose, and Rúmil nodded for her to continue.
 
“This isn’t going to change anything between us, is it?” she asked, looking from one to the other. “I mean, I like your guys’ company very much, and getting to know you and all, but I don’t want to ruin it.”  She gestured vaguely, motioning to include the three of them. “I don’t want to feel weird in the morning.”  Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she tried to explain what she meant. 
 
Rúmil cocked his head slightly and gave her a quick smile. “We have enjoyed your company these past two days, and we would like to share pleasure with you, if you are willing,” he said simply. “There does not have to be anything more to it than that.”

Orophin reached out and tugged a lock of her hair lightly, playfully. “You are much too serious about the situation, gwilwileth, ” he teased softly. “I meant what I told you before: you have nothing to be afraid of.”
 
Erin struggled with her conscience. She had never been one to give into her desires casually, although, she had to admit if she was going to be honest with herself, apparently that had changed when she kissed Éomer.  Different world, different rules, the not so well-behaved part of her brain told her. Go on, you know you want to!
 
Finally, she nodded, taking a healthy sip of her wine to fortify her before she could change her mind.
 
Orophin reached out and gently took the cup from her hands, placing it carefully away from them, before pulling her to him, turning her so her back rested against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her snugly, just under the warmth of her breasts, and placed a kiss behind her ear.
 
Rúmil crawled towards them, his legs on other side of theirs, until he was nearly sitting on Erin’s lap. He leaned forward and kissed her, tasting the spice and flavor of the wine on her lips.
 
Erin sagged back against Orophin’s strong embrace as Rúmil kissed her, his lips softly teasing hers as his hands crept up to cradle her face.  She felt Orophin’s mouth just beneath her ear and shuddered when he lightly nipped the sensitive skin.  Rúmil’s lips were gentle but firm, and she felt his tongue flick out, teasing her mouth open under his, and she gave herself to the sensation willingly.  
 
Orophin felt her tremble against his chest and smiled, sliding his hands upward to cup the swell of her breasts gently, bending his head to explore the soft curve of her neck. His tongue flickered out to taste the salt of her skin, and found the flavor not at all unpleasant.
 
A soft moan escaped her when she felt Orophin’s large hands on her breasts, her nipples hardening almost painfully against his touch, and his mouth hot against her skin.  Rúmil’s tongue tangled with hers as he deepened his kiss, making her breathless and wanting more.  
 
Rúmil pulled back, releasing her mouth, his gray-blue eyes glittering in the semi-darkness and watched her lean back against his brother, her eyes half-closed as she gave herself over to the pleasure of Orophin’s caresses. He leaned forward once more and claimed her lips, his hands sliding slowly up her legs, squeezing them gently.
 
Erin was lost. I’ve died and gone to heaven, she thought when Orophin’s thumbs brushed against her nipples, making her gasp in pleasure. Or this is the best damn dream I’ve ever had.  Either way, she didn’t want it to end. She sighed against Rúmil’s mouth, feeling his strong hands traveling up her legs slowly, inching their way across her jeans, while his lips did wicked things to hers. Orophin’s tongue had found her ear and was exploring the curved edge, his warm breath sending shivers of delight down her spine.  
 
Her hands needed something to do, and there was something she’d wanted to do since the first time she’d laid eyes on an elf. Her fingers brushed the silky length of Rúmil’s hair behind his ear, and she carefully, she explored the shape of his ear, her fingers tracing the tip of its delicate point.  She felt Rúmil shudder in response, and his hands became decidedly bolder; sliding up her legs until they rested at her waist, working their way under the material of her sweater. 
 
Rúmil felt her fingers touch his sensitive ear and his body responded to it, with a jolt of heat that seemed to go straight to his groin. His fingers curled themselves in the material of her sweater, pulling it upwards to reveal the pale flesh of her belly. His fingers danced over the warm, bare skin he found there, and he felt it quiver beneath his touch.
 
A piece of wood in the fire popped loudly, startling the three of them, and the tension that had been building for the moment was broken.
 
Placing a quick kiss against her mouth, Rúmil stood up, tugging at his leggings to adjust their suddenly uncomfortable fit.
 
“I will be right back,” he assured them, before sprinting off into the darkness. 
 
Erin watched him go, feeling the cool night air against her legs where his warmth had been before and felt the contrasting heat of Orophin against her back.  His hands still cupped her breasts, and he was kneading them gently, his thumbs occasionally brushing against her nipples. She arched her back, tilting her head back against his shoulder wantonly. She felt him shift his legs before his arms turned her, bringing her body around so that she was facing him. He bent his head and she closed her eyes as she felt his lips descend on hers, one hand returning to her breast and caressing it over the fabric of her sweater. 
 
She was small and light in his arms, and Orophin found himself savoring the unique taste of her lips, so different than his own kind. She tasted of the wine she had earlier, but also of something else, something warm and mellow . Her breast was a sweet weight in his hand, and he enjoyed her vocalizations, and how responsive she was to his caress.  He felt her hands explore his face, and heard her low moan against his mouth. Sweet Elbereth, he thought as he felt her fingers brush against the tip of his ear, stroking it lightly, and he felt an answering throb of pleasure in his groin. 
 
Orophin’s hands slid down her sweater and found the edge, breaking away from the kiss long enough to tug it upwards. Erin raised her arms obligingly and felt the cool night air kiss her skin as he pulled the material over her head and tossed it somewhere behind him.  She felt him start and looked at him curiously.
 
He eyed the white straps, sliding a finger under the material on her shoulder, raising his eyebrow questioningly. It was obviously some type of undergarment, but as he searched for the ties that held it, he realized he had no idea how to unfasten it.
 
Erin stifled a giggle at his puzzled expression, and reached behind her. With a move that spoke of years of practice, she undid the three hooks that held her bra in place, and felt the elastic loosen immediately. She started to slide it off her shoulders, but Orophin’s hands stopped hers and pulled them gently away. 
 
He could see now how the thing had been fastened, and stopped her from removing the undergarment entirely. It was a simple thing, but he wanted to be the one to reveal her bare skin to his gaze.  His hands slid the straps leisurely, teasingly down her shoulders, exposing her flesh to his hungry gaze slowly, and he felt her breath catch when he finally slipped the garment free. 
 
Erin felt her skin flush under the intensity of his gaze, her nipples hardening as if he had touched them, leaving them aching for more. As if hearing her unspoken desire, Orophin bent his head and took one of them in his mouth, his hand sliding up the bare skin of her back to hold her firmly as his tongue explored the sensitive point.  His other hand covered her breast completely, and he rolled the flesh between his fingers, mimicking the movements his mouth was making on her other breast.
 
She was lost. Arching against the arm that held her firmly, she threw her head back and moaned softly, feeling pleasure and need sweep through her fiercely. Never before had she felt this way – wanton, needy, her body on fire from his touch. Not even her fiancé had made her feel so helpless to her body’s desire, but she found she didn’t care. All that mattered for the moment was the heat of Orophin’s mouth against her breast and the answering heat between her legs.
 
Rúmil returned, carrying their bedrolls, and nearly dropped them as he saw his brother’s hand slide down Erin’s white belly, his fingers teasing just inside the waistband of her pants, and heard her moan breathlessly. He should have known better than to leave them alone together – they had started without him!  Determined to even things up a bit, he quickly unrolled their bedrolls so they were next to each other, and stood up, reaching for the lacings of his tunic.  Pulling the tunic over his head and tossing it aside, he strode quickly towards them.
 
Orophin heard his brother approach and smiled against Erin’s skin, his hand leaving the undone button of her pants and sliding back up the smooth flesh of her belly to cup her breast. 
 
“I leave you for a moment,” Rúmil muttered when he reached them. “Could you not have waited for me?”
 
Orophin lifted his head and saw Erin’s eyes open when she heard his brother’s voice. “No,” he said, smiling down at her flushed face. “I could not.”
 
The rational side of Erin’s brain decided to rudely intrude on the moment. Are you really sure you want to do this? With *both* of them?  The question was answered when Rúmil’s hands slid up the bare skin of her back and he licked the curve of her neck. 
 
“I think we would be more comfortable over there,” Rúmil whispered in her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. 
 
Not trusting herself to speak, she simply nodded, and felt Orophin pull away as Rúmil lifted her easily, one arm behind her back and the other behind her knees, cradling her against his bare chest.  She blinked in surprise when she felt his skin beneath her cheek and smiled, bringing a hand up to explore the warmth of his chest while he carried her.
 
He laid her gently on the sleeping rolls and stretched his length out beside her, Orophin mirroring him on her other side. She smiled uncertainly up at both of them, suddenly unsure, and they answered her with reassuring smiles of their own.
 
Rúmil bent his head, pressing his lips against hers, delighting in the feel of her bare skin against his, the sweet press of her breast against the hardness of his chest. Determined to make up for lost time, his hands explored what his brother had revealed, sliding over the soft warmth of her breast, teasing the nipple that hardened deliciously under his palm. He broke away from the kiss to taste the flesh his fingers had discovered, rolling the hardness with his tongue and lips until her heard her gasp, and felt her body arch instinctively towards him. He licked a wet line between the valley of her breasts, exploring the soft skin down her flat belly, and flicking his tongue into the small indentation he found there. She squirmed delightfully when he did that, so he did it again.  He heard his brother chuckle softly, and felt him lean over to kiss her, to quiet her with his mouth, as Rúmil’s head dipped lower, biting and sucking the soft and sensitive skin of her belly.
 
Erin moaned shamelessly into Orophin’s mouth, reaching up to bury her hands in his so-incredibly soft hair, writhing helplessly as Rúmil’s tongue slipped under the waistband of her jeans, teasing the skin there.  She felt Orophin’s hands on her breasts once more and arched into his touch, even as Rúmil found the zipper of her jeans and tugged at it experimentally. The cloth parted easily, and she felt the cool wind touch her skin as he slid her jeans over her hips and down her legs, licking and softly biting the skin he exposed along the way.
 
Rúmil paused in his exploration to slide Erin’s shoes from her feet, making it easier for him to remove her pants the rest of the way. Tossing both shoes and pants aside, he slid slowly up her bare legs, exploring the soft and tender skin behind her knees, his hands stroking her trembling thighs.
 
Orophin left her mouth to seek her breast, and one hand descending to explore the flatness of her belly, moving in slow and careful movements down her skin, until he reached the edge of her hip, where his fingers encountered his brother’s.  He lifted his head from Erin’s breast and saw that Rúmil’s hands rested at the edge of her undergarment. 
 
Erin felt Orophin move away and opened her eyes. Two sets of gray-blue eyes looked at her with heat, and she shivered as she felt them both reach for the waistband of her panties, sliding them down and over her hips, baring her to their intense gaze.
 
Rúmil looked in wonder and keen interest at the bare flesh before him, his eyes settling on the dark triangle of curly hair at the apex of her thighs. He could smell the musky scent of her arousal as he touched the curls softly, intrigued at how different she was from his own kind. He glanced at Orophin and saw the same wonderment and curiosity on his brother’s face.
 
Erin had closed her eyes in embarrassment when she realized both Elves were staring at her, and she shivered when she felt fingers lightly brush the hair between her legs.  Gentle but insistent hands pressed her thighs apart, and she moaned helplessly when she felt two sets of hands explore her heat, their touches setting her aflame.
 
Orophin’s mouth covered hers, swallowing her moans as he yielded exploration of the sensitive folds to Rúmil’s clever hands, content for the moment to return his own hands to the full curves of Erin’s breasts. 
 
She was utterly lost, undone, and happy to be that way when Rúmil’s fingers found the sensitive knot of flesh above her opening and she cried out against Orophin’s mouth, feeling the first delicious and welcome waves of pleasure crash through her, leaving her completely breathless and shocked; she had never experienced a climax so quickly!  But he was not done with her, and she felt his long fingers enter her warmth, sliding into the wet heat of her body with a sure touch that had her moaning with need once more.
 
Orophin lifted his head, watching with hunger as she lost herself to his brother’s touch. His arousal strained painfully against his leggings, and he reached for the lacings, untying them with one hand as he bent to take Erin’s mouth with his once more. He felt her hands reach for him, sliding down his tunic and pulling at the ties that held it closed. The material finally parted under her hands, and he groaned when he felt her fingers explore the skin she had uncovered.
 
Rúmil reluctantly left the warmth of her body, watching his brother struggle with the ties of his leggings one-handed as Erin tried to remove his tunic at the same time, all without breaking their kiss. He grinned, and moved forward, reaching out to pull Orophin’s tunic the rest of the way off his body, and heard his brother groan when her fingers caressed his bare skin. 
 
Erin whimpered when she felt Rúmil’s fingers leave her body, but was quickly distracted by Orophin’s groan of pleasure when she ran her hands over his chest, exploring the smooth and heated flesh beneath her palms. She felt Rúmil’s return and opened her eyes in surprise, feeling his bare legs sliding sinuously against hers as he positioned himself between her thighs.
 
Orophin pulled away, his breath quickening as he saw his brother nudge her thighs apart with his knees, and heard her catch her breath. He moved backward to give Rúmil more room, and watched with hunger as his brother entered her body, and heard her cry of pleasure as he filled her.
 
Rúmil’s eyes closed as he felt her warm tightness envelop his length, and he heard her cry out beneath him. He steadied himself against her, looking down at her as he filled her, watching her face as he began to move within her tight heat.  The feeling was exquisite, a delicious feast for the senses, and he groaned softly, establishing a slow and careful rhythm between them, feeling the pleasure build within him.
 
He filled her completely, stretching her with his flesh, and Erin gasped, groaning in pure abandonment as he began to move within her. She felt him grasp her hips, lifting her slightly, and changing the angle of his penetration. It allowed him deeper within her and she cried out again, the sensation of it bringing her over the edge once more.
 
Rúmil felt her body tighten beneath his, heard her cry as she reached her climax and was undone. He flexed his hips sharply, driving himself deeper into her warmth, and added his cries of passion to her own as he flooded her body with his essence, shuddering with the intensity of his release.
 
She felt him collapse on top of her and welcomed his weight, still trembling with the aftershocks of her release. She could feel his heart pounding against her, and she smiled against his hair, pleased that she had given him pleasure in return. She’d been afraid that he would find her lacking in some way, and was relieved that he apparently hadn’t. 
 
Rúmil raised up slightly and kissed her lightly on the mouth, before sliding out of her body. He chuckled when he heard the disappointed noise she made as he left her warmth, and kissed her again. 
 
Erin felt Orophin’s body slide next to hers and turned to look at him, her breath catching when she saw the hunger in his eyes.  She glanced shyly down and her eyes widened when she saw his arousal and she heard him laugh softly, his fingers touching her chin and guiding her face to his.
 
Rúmil moved back with a smile, watching his brother stake his claim on Erin’s very kissable mouth. She had been a very pleasant surprise for him, and he hoped that he had given her as much pleasure as she had given him. He sat back on his heels, eager to see how she responded to Orophin’s touch.
 
Now that her brain was functioning a little bit better, Erin took advantage of the situation, and used her hands to explore the beautiful elf lying next to her. He had pulled back from his kiss and was watching her, his eyes half-closed, as she curiously explored his body.  Swallowing almost nervously, she ran her hands lightly down his muscled chest, pausing at his nipples to tease them with her fingers, rolling them gently between her thumb and forefinger, until she heard his soft groan. With a small but more confident smile, she leaned down and licked the nearest one, hearing him catch his breath when her mouth fastened on the small nub of erect flesh. 
 
Rúmil watched almost enviously as Erin explored his brother’s body, regretting that he had been in too much of a hurry to have given her much of a chance to do the same with him. He watched as she licked her way down the flat and muscled plane of his stomach, and grinned, hearing Orophin’s breathing take on a much harsher rhythm. His grin faded, however, when Erin’s pink tongue flickered out and licked Orophin’s arousal, and he felt his own arousal stirring at the sight. 
 
Sweet Elbereth, Orophin thought when her mouth enclosed him, taking him into her wet heat with a slow and delicious suction. He groaned, unable to help himself, as he felt her lips sliding up and down his length, her lips and tongue wreaking havoc on his senses.
 
Erin smiled mentally when she heard Orophin’s groan, taking him into her mouth as deeply as she could, inwardly amazed that she was enjoying what she was doing so much. It was not usually one of her favorite things to do, but once she had laid eyes on his arousal, she knew she had to taste him. His flavor was vastly different then the few men she had been with, sweet and spicy, like vanilla and cinnamon, and it was addicting in its own way. 
 
“Ai, pen-vaelui,” Orophin gasped as she took his length deep within her mouth once more. “You would undo me that way.”
 
Erin ran the tip of her tongue up the length of him and smiled, feeling slightly smug. “That would be a bad thing?” she whispered, giving him another lingering lick, hearing him groan sweetly in response.
 
“Yes,” he managed, reaching for her. “For I want to fill your body with mine.” His strong arms pulled her unresisting up the length of his body and his mouth claimed hers fiercely, his tongue plundering the warmth of her mouth greedily. “I want to bury myself in you, until you scream,” he growled, his hands sliding down to cup her bottom firmly, kneading it in his large hands as he pulled her forward to straddle his thighs.
 
His words enflamed her, as did the feel of his arousal sliding between her slick folds, and Erin gasped, shuddering as he continued to rock her hips against his, teasing her aching sex with his own. His hands prevented her from driving his length into her body, and she whimpered softly at the delicious torture.
 
“Please,” the word escaped her and she closed her eyes, finding the sensation almost unbearable.
 
Orophin felt her shudder and heard her whimper with her need, heard her soft plea, but he was not done. His lips hovered teasingly over hers. “What is it you need?” he whispered, his tongue flicking out against her open mouth softly as he continued to slide his length between the warm wetness of her folds. “Tell me, Erin, and I will gladly give it to you.”
 
She’d never had a lover who liked to talk during sex, and Erin found it overwhelmingly erotic as he continued to torment her sensitive flesh with his own. She shuddered again, throwing her head back with a low moan.
 
“Please,” she said again, trying to lift her body and impale herself on his length, only to find her efforts thwarted by his strong hands on her hips. 
 
“Yes?” he purred, struggling to maintain his control as he continued to torment them both. “Tell me,” he demanded softly. “Tell me what you need, and I will give it to you.”
 
Erin groaned softly at his demand. “I – I need you,” she tried, only to hear him chuckle softly beneath her.
 
“Need me to what?” he whispered, bending his head so he could capture a nipple with his teeth, hearing her gasp above him.
 
“Fill me,” her plea was a breathless sob.
 
“Gladly,” he replied, and slid his length into her body in one swift movement.
 
Erin cried out, long and wordless as she felt him take her, filling the empty ache within her with his throbbing heat. Her eyes pricked with tears as she felt her climax consume her, her body convulsing with the intensity of it.  She fell forward, collapsing on his chest, and felt him stroke her back gently, his voice a soft musical murmur as he soothed her trembling body. It was only after her breathing had slowed to something closer to normal and her heart had stopped pounding wildly that she became aware that he was still inside her, his hard length still buried deep within her body.
 
With a move that always seemed impossible whenever she read it in romance novels, Orophin rolled her underneath him, managing to keep their bodies joined throughout the entire maneuver. His gray-blue eyes glittered down at her and she shivered at the heat of his gaze. Hooking an arm behind one of her knees, he lifted it upwards to his chest, and flexed his hips sharply, driving his length into her with a force that made her cry out from the mix of pain and pleasure. 
 
Orophin threw his head back, thrusting into the welcoming heat that enveloped him, finally giving into his body’s need as he worked towards his own completion. He heard her moans as he filled her, and echoed them with his own as he sought his release, his body almost slamming into hers with the force of his thrusts.  
 
Her eyes flew open as his thrusts become more forceful and she gasped at the intensity of it, shocked as she felt her body climbing towards the peak of pleasure once more. His eyes were almost shut as he moved against her, filling her again and again. She was almost there-
 
Orophin’s fingers found the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of her opening and his thumb brushed against it, groaning deeply when he felt her convulse around his length.
 
“Say my name,” he panted, opening his eyes a little more so he could watch her in her release. “Erin, say my name.”
 
She was completely done for, his words and fingers driving her over the final edge.
 
“Orophin!” she wailed, her body arching helplessly as her release took her, shaking her to her very core. She felt his warmth flood her and heard his hoarse cry as he reached his own release, driving himself so deeply within her she cried out again.
 
His body shook with the aftermath of his release, and he lay contentedly against her, hearing her heart pound beneath his ear, the long shuddering sighs she gave as her own body came down from its heights were sweet to hear. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her warmth, sliding out of her body, before pulling her against his chest. He felt Rúmil move near them, lying down on the other side of her, his body curving against hers spoon-fashion as he flung an arm around Erin’s waist.
 
Rúmil placed a soft kiss on the back of her neck, his lips tickling the sensitive skin there, pressing his hips against the soft curve of her bottom. Watching Orophin and Erin had brought his own arousal back to a state of aching hardness, and he found himself wanting to take her again.
 
Erin felt his length pressing against her backside and blinked in surprise that he was hard again so quickly. She felt his hand slide up from her stomach to reach for her breast, and was unable to suppress the quiver that went through her when his fingers delicately traced the outline of her nipple.  His lips were warm against her neck.
 
“Rúmil,” she tried to say, but his name came out sounding more like a moan.
 
His fingers continued to tease the nipple that had hardened so delightfully against his hand, and he dipped his head lower, his tongue flicking out in soft, quick touches against the top of her spine.  She squirmed against him, her bottom brushing teasingly against his arousal, and he growled low in his throat, his teeth nipping at the tender flesh of her shoulder. 
 
Erin tried to roll over so she could get away from his wicked tongue, which was doing naughty things to her spine, but his arm held her firmly in place, and she shuddered when she felt him lick a long wet line down the center of her back. 
 
Orophin watched his brother through half-closed eyes, his mouth curved in a pleased smile as he saw Rúmil work his skills on the woman they held in their arms, wondering what exactly his brother had in mind.  The last time they had shared a female together, they had truly shared her, and he wondered if his brother wanted to experience it again. The idea was not at all disinteresting, and he felt his own arousal stir against his leg at the thought.
 
Nobody warned me that Elves were so lusty, Erin thought, groaning as his fingers pinched her nipple a little more forcefully. Not that it had ever occurred to me either.  It was the last truly coherent thought she could manage for quite a while. Rúmil’s tongue was licking its way slowly down her spine, and had reached the top of her buttocks. She felt his tongue slide slowly and teasingly between the edges of her cheeks and squirmed helplessly against the sensation, her breath coming in quick gasps.
 
Rúmil contemplated the round bottom that squirmed so delightfully for him, a wicked smile curving his mouth as he glanced up at his brother. Orophin nodded with a matching smile and reached out, gripping Erin by her shoulders. He rolled his body, pulling her quickly towards him until she was half-way across his chest, and heard her squeak of surprise.
 
She lay crossways over Orophin, his arm sliding over her back to hold her still as Rúmil returned to his previous exploration, and Erin whimpered softly when she felt his fingers trace the line that separated her buttocks. The position left her vulnerable to him, and she found herself feeling more than a bit uncertain.
 
Orophin felt the tension in her body and glanced up at his brother with a slight frown. Perhaps this sort of play was not something she was ready for.
 
Rúmil saw his look and felt the apprehensive trembling of her skin beneath his fingers. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her ear.
 
“We would not hurt you, Erin,” he whispered softly, his hand stroking slowly and reassuringly down her back. “We will not do anything that you do not also desire.”
 
His warm breath caressed her ear, and she felt Orophin stroking the side of her face gently. 
 
“We only wish to share you, for both of us to give you pleasure equally,” Rúmil continued, his tongue tracing the curved edge of her ear. “Will you trust us?”
 
Desire flooded through her with the combination of their gentle caresses and softly persuasive words. If they mean what I think they mean, I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow,  she thought almost ruefully, trying to push her uncertainty aside. Though this was new territory for her, both Elves had done nothing this night that could make her afraid of them. They had been more generous to her than any other lover in her past, and she felt she truly could trust them not to hurt her.
 
Erin lifted her head to speak and Rúmil met her with a kiss, and she was willingly silenced.  She relaxed her body against Orophin’s hold as his brother’s tongue teased hers, coaxing and stroking her desire to a fevered pitch.  When his lips finally left hers, she was breathless, and her anxiousness had deserted her completely.
 
Rúmil gave her a warm smile, the heated promise of wicked delights in his eyes sending a shiver up her spine. “I would give you only pleasure, Erin,” he repeated softly, his breath caressing her skin as he moved behind her once more.
 
She closed her eyes, resting her cheek against the warmth of Orophin’s chest and willed her body to relax. Orophin’s hands still stroked her back gently and she felt Rúmil’s warm touch against her skin as he traced the curve of her bottom with his fingers. Her breath caught when she felt his tongue once more, fluttering softly over her skin, before dipping teasingly between the edges of her cheeks. Lean fingers lightly gripped each side and parted them and she cried out when his tongue touched the small opening he found there.
 
The sensation was wholly new, and wholly pleasurable and she threw her head back with a low moan, feeling the heat rush between her legs. 
 
Rúmil heard her moan and his arousal throbbed in response. His tongue explored the heated flesh, probing gently until she arched against him, her hips jerking reflexively.  His slid one hand lower, between her legs and found the highly sensitive bundle of nerves and worked it gently between his finger and thumb, all the while his tongue continued to tease her other opening.
 
Orophin felt her jerk against him and smiled against her neck, his tongue flicking out and tasting her skin. Her soft gasps and moans were growing louder in their intensity, and he knew she would not last long against Rúmil’s skillful persuasion. He bit gently at her neck and felt her shuddering response.
 
His tongue pushed against the tight ring of muscles that endeavored to keep him out and he heard Erin whimper softly, his fingers continuing their torment between her thighs. Like Orophin, he felt the delightful urge to make her ask for what she wanted, but his mouth was otherwise occupied. He felt the small opening alternatively relax and tighten beneath his tongue as she gasped, sobbing breathlessly with her pleasure.
 
Erin felt his tongue withdraw and mourned its loss, feeling her climax slide just out of reach. Her moan of protests turned to a faint whimper when she felt his finger press against the opening his tongue had recently left, unable to keep from tensing as she felt it slide past the untried barrier of muscle and into the warmth of her body.
 
Rúmil felt her tighten against him and increased his manipulations of her more sensitive flesh, licking a wet line up the curve of her spine. Her body trembled as he began to work his finger slowly in and out of the tight opening, gently stretching the passage that enclosed it. 
 
Orophin knew when his brother had breached her defenses and felt his arousal ache in response. She was shuddering in his arms, her mouth open as she arched almost painfully against them both, her final cry of release wordless and long. 
 
Erin’s legs collapsed, refusing to support her as she felt her climax take her, screaming through her body and leaving her weak and shaking. She had never experienced anything like it before, and it left her feeling boneless and lightheaded. Rúmil’s fingers had withdrawn from her body, and she felt Orophin lift her, sliding her upwards until she straddled his thighs once more.  She opened her eyes in disbelief and he smiled with an expression she could only describe as wicked.
 
“We are not finished yet,” Orophin told her softly, and lifted her hips, impaling her on his length in one smooth stroke. Heat flooded him and he groaned softly against her.
 
These two will be the death of me, Erin managed the thought as he pulled her forward against his chest. But what a way to go.  She felt Rúmil move behind her and tensed slightly when his fingers lightly touched her. She was distracted from the gentle press of his fingers by Orophin, who lifted his hips slightly, pushing his length deeper into her body, while his lips claimed hers with hunger.  She couldn’t prevent the gasp that escaped her when Rúmil’s fingers brushed lower, gathering the moisture from between her legs and spreading it gently against her smaller opening, before pressing inside her.
 
Orophin softly bit her lower lip, trapping it between his teeth and heard her soft gasp, startling when he felt the brush of his brother’s fingers against the base of his arousal. He heard his brother chuckle in response. 
 
Rúmil reached again between her legs, gathering the slippery moisture with the tips of his fingers, and spreading it on his throbbing length, coating his arousal with hers.  He pressed the tip against her smaller opening, and heard her sharp intake of breath as he slowly pushed into her heat.
 
“Ow!” Erin whimpered, her body shaking with the sudden pain of his invasion. Rúmil’s and Orophin’s hands on her hips kept her from pulling away. “That hurts,” she managed to gasp, her eyes watering.
 
Rúmil had closed his eyes in bliss as he sank into her tight heat, but opened them when he heard her cry of pain. His hands immediately stroked her back, trying to soothe the pain from her, his handsome face a mixture of pleasure and concern. 
 
Orophin saw the tears leak from the corners of her tightly closed eyes and kissed them away, whispering softly, willing her to relax and her desire to return. 
 
She could feel their hands stroking her, gentling her, willing her body to accept both of them inside of her. The feeling of being filled so completely was overwhelming, and she shuddered again, this time in pleasure. 
 
Orophin’s hands stroked over her breasts, teasing her nipples until they hardened beneath his touch, and he leaned forward to kiss her, feeling her body quiver slightly in response. Encouraged, he tilted his hips slightly, rocking gently against her body, his thrusts slow and even. 
 
Rúmil felt his brother begin to move, his slow thrusts rocking Erin’s body against his own, and he groaned softly, letting her body move against his length. He felt the tight muscles that surrounded him begin to relax, to accept him within her body, and he groaned again at the sweetness of it.
 
The pain was less now, and Erin found that if she flexed her hips against Rúmil’s in opposition to Orophin’s thrusts, she was rewarded with a fiery jolt of pleasure that spread through her, taking the pain away with each delicious stroke. Their pace was wonderfully slow, and she heard herself moaning softly, steadily, each time they filled her.
 
They heard her steady and breathless moans and smiled, their eyes locking over Erin’s body as they possessed her completely, each feeling the pressure of the other in the warm depths of her body.  It had been like this for them once before, and each had treasured the memory of being so close to the other this way. 
 
Rúmil’s eyes closed once more as he found his rhythm with Erin, feeling her body take him deeper as she grew closer to her release. He felt his brother’s thrusts become more forceful, rocking her hips backward and into his and he groaned, utterly lost in the sensations.
 
Orophin pulled back from the kiss and flexed his hips sharply, rocking their bodies together with increasing friction. Erin’s eyes were closed, as were Rúmil’s and he felt himself nearing his edge, seeing them both lost in passion.
 
Erin cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as Rúmil’s thrusts deepened in response to his brother’s quickened pace. She heard him give a hoarse cry and felt him shudder his release, his warm essence filling her as he drove into her as deeply as he could.  She could feel her own release tantalizingly close, but just out of reach. 
 
“Open your eyes, Erin,” Orophin demanded huskily, his hands drawing her hips closer as he increased the strength of his thrusts. “Look at me.”
 
She opened her eyes, wincing slightly as she felt Rúmil withdraw, and looked down at the gray-blue gaze staring up at her. 
 
“Are you close?” he asked, his breath coming harshly as he continued to move within her, twisting his hips against hers as he rocked them together.
 
Erin nodded, his eyes boring into hers as he possessed her. She usually closed her eyes during sex, but there was something so erotic and almost painfully arousing in being captured by his gaze this way. Another gasp escaped her as he continued to thrust, driving her closer and closer to her pinnacle. 
 
“I want to see you,” he growled, his own release near at hand; his words had the intended affect and took her to the edge of her pleasure. “Let it go.”
 
She felt like a wild and untamed animal, riding his length as her climax took her, screaming one long shuddering cry after another as wave after wave crashed over her and through her. His cries mingled with hers as he arched beneath her, spilling his seed deep into her welcome heat, his lean muscles quivering with the intensity of his release.
 
Exhausted beyond words, she collapsed against him, unable to move, her thighs shaking uncontrollably from it all. She felt Rúmil’s hand gently stroking her back and sighed deeply, closing her eyes for a moment. 
 
“Are you well?” he asked her, his breath tickling her ear.
 
“Mmmm, hmm,” she answered serenely, and for some reason, both of them chuckled. She felt Rúmil stretch his length out beside them and opened one eye to look at him, giving him a lazy smile.
 
“Come here,” he said, pulling her from his brother’s embrace and tucking her against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder.  
 
Orophin sat up and stretched, his muscles delightfully sore from their exertions. With an amused glance at the snuggling pair, he curled his body next to Erin’s, wrapping an arm around her waist and giving her a brief hug. She patted his hand in return and smiled sleepily at him, before dropping her head to Rúmil’s shoulder once more. 
 
She snuggled against the warmth of them both, feeling tired, sore, but content. It was far too difficult to keep her eyes open, so she closed them, and a long sigh escaped her. She felt Orophin reach down and pull her sleeping bag over the three of them, before settling once more beside her, his strong arm wrapped firmly around her stomach. Cocooned by the warmth of their bodies on either side of her, Erin surrendered willingly to the peaceful sleep that descended on her.
 
< > < >  < >
 
She was having the strangest dream. She was in her old bedroom at her parents’ house, and her mother was asking if Rúmil and Orophin liked pancakes for breakfast. 
 
“Erin.”
 
She opened her mouth to answer her mother, when a firm hand shook her from her sleep, bringing her rudely awake.  Erin opened her eyes and nearly screamed in the face that was inches from hers.
 
“Get up,” Haldir said without preamble. “Get dressed. Breakfast is waiting and we will be leaving shortly.” He stood up and looked down his nose at her, his lips curving slightly. “I wish to speak to my brothers alone.”
 
Erin had never seen Haldir’s face look the way it did right now, a mixture of stern amusement, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Wrapping the sleeping bag around her nude body as best she could to shield it from that shrewd gaze, she stood up, wincing at the various aches and pains that plagued her from the previous night’s activities. Embarrassed by his fixed regard, she searched for the various and scattered pieces of her clothes, oblivious to the fact that she left Orophin and Rúmil lying uncovered on their bedrolls, both of them still deep in reverie.
 
He watched her search for her clothes without comment, and his keen eyes narrowed as he spotted the empty bottle of wine resting next to where she had found her sweater.  He glanced back to where his brothers were sleeping, and his jaw tightened perceptively.
 
Erin finally found her underwear hanging from a nearby clump of grass and snatched it quickly, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment. This was not how she imagined the ‘morning after’ would be.  She reached for her sweater to pull it on and glanced up nervously. Haldir was still looking at her, and there was an impatient twitch to the side of his jaw that hadn’t been there before.
 
“Can you, ah…”she trailed off when he arched an elegant eyebrow at her, his stare unnerving her. Finally she managed to finish. “Turn around so I can dress?”
 
With a snort, he turned around, crossing his arms across his chest and looking up at the sky above him.  
 
As quickly as she could, Erin pulled on her sweater and her jeans, balling up her bra and underwear and stuffing them into her jeans pocket. Her shoes and socks were over by the bedrolls and she went to get them, stifling a gasp when she realized that she had left Rúmil and Orophin rather exposed. She threw the sleeping bag over the top of them hurriedly, and she saw both of them twitch as they woke from their sleep. Matching smiles of warmth greeted her, but she couldn’t return them. Not with their older brother scowling at her from behind them. 
 
Orophin saw that something was amiss with her expression and he followed her gaze, wincing when he saw the glint in Haldir’s eyes. Rúmil closed his eyes and shook his head, a sigh of resignation escaping him.
 
Erin felt a pang of sympathy for her companions – if Haldir’s stony expression was any indication, they were going to be in a lot of trouble, although honestly, she wasn’t sure why he was angry with them. She certainly wasn’t. In fact a rather pleasant memory of the previous night surfaced as she was lacing her shoes, and she found it difficult not to smile. When her shoes were tied, she carefully schooled her expression before looking up at Haldir once more.
 
“Go find Elrohir and stay with him until I come for you,” Haldir said, his gentle tone belying his stern expression. “Be sure to find some breakfast as well.”
 
Erin nodded uncertainly and turned, flashing a brief smile at the two brothers who were doing their best to disappear beneath the sleeping bag, before fleeing the scene.
 
Orophin and Rúmil shifted uneasily as their brother stalked towards them, his hands behind his back as he glowered down at them.
 
“What do you two have to say for yourselves?” he demanded softly, his eyebrow arching as he burned them with his glare.  “Gandalf instructed you to protect Erin, not seduce her!”
 
“We did not seduce her, muindor,” Rúmil protested, sitting up and clutching the edge of the sleeping bag against his bare chest, as if the material would protect him from his brother’s ire. 
 
“Aye,” Orophin added from beside him. “She was willing. We asked her, and she said she was.”
 
Haldir’s eyebrow rose higher and he brought his hands from behind his back, holding the empty wine bottle in front of them. “Was that before or after you got the lady drunk?”  Their sheepish looks spoke volumes. “I see,” he said flatly. “So you took advantage of your ward. Do I have it right?”
 
“Nay, Haldir,” Orophin protested vehemently. “That is not the way of it at all.  We did not take advantage of her.”
 
“Then do you wish to tell me how it happened?” Haldir asked, his voice deceptively mild. “For I am most curious to know how it is that both my brothers tumbled the lady, with her consent, no less.”
 
Rúmil exchanged a quick glance with Orophin.
 
“Do not look at him,” Haldir scowled. “Look at me and tell me how this came about?”
 
With a sigh, Orophin dropped his head and began to speak. He began by explaining to Haldir about how he had taken the wine from Théoden’s cellar. He did not have to look up to know his brother was frowning, but he doggedly kept going. He explained how they thought that Erin had been upset by what had happened at Helm’s Deep, and that she was feeling depressed and homesick. They had simply wanted to make her laugh for the evening. 
 
“That was how it all started,” Orophin finished lamely, daring to glance up at his older brother.
 
Haldir shook his head. “Started, perhaps, but it did not end there,” he stated, crossing his arms once more. “You are not telling me everything.”
 
Orophin sighed. “Before we reached the glade, she tripped and I caught her before she could fall. I felt her tremble in my arms, muindor. I knew what was ailing her, what has been ailing her for the past day or so.”
 
Haldir snorted. “You are saying she desired you?” His stern expression had relented somewhat.
 
Orophin nodded and added hesitantly. “I kissed her before she ever tasted the wine.”
 
“I see,” Haldir replied, before turning his attention towards Rúmil. “And you? Did she desire you as well?”
 
The younger elf’s face flushed slightly in embarrassment. “Aye, muindor. She certainly made me believe so.”
 
“So you took it upon yourselves to act upon her desires?” Haldir asked roughly, shaking his head. “She is a mortal, a human woman, not even from our world! How could you take advantage of her in this fashion?”
 
Rúmil scowled at his brother’s accusatory tone. “We did not seduce her, Haldir. She was more than willing to be with us last night. I do not understand why this has angered you so.”
 
“Nor I,” Orophin added, lifting his chin defiantly. “If you are truly worried, perhaps you should ask Erin how she feels about what happened between us. For she did not seem upset afterwards.”  He could not help but smile. “I would say, rather, that she was quite content, when all was said and done.”
 
Haldir threw up his hands and scowled at them both. “Fine. I will ask the lady, for I had intended to speak with her regardless. But know this,” he shook his head slowly. “I do not approve of your actions, even if all parties involved were perfectly willing. She is human, and human hearts are notoriously fragile. You risk far too much.”  He gave them both a scathing glance. “Now get dressed. We will be leaving for Lothlórien shortly.”  He tossed the empty bottle at Orophin’s lap and stalked off without a backward glance.
 
Rúmil looked at Orophin, his expression revealing the guilt his older brother’s words had invoked. “You do not think we have hurt her, do you?” he asked softly, his fair face worried.
 
Orophin sighed, tugging at Rúmil’s braid gently. “I do not think so, muindor, and I hope we have not, but perhaps Haldir was right.”  He stood up, reaching for his clothes.
 
Rúmil couldn’t prevent the snicker that escaped him as he reached for his own clothing. “Please do not let him ever hear you say that, muindor. He is insufferable enough as it is.”

Chapter 8
 
Erin’s stomach grumbled for the pancakes she’d been dreaming about, but she forced herself to accept the apple and bowl of watery looking oatmeal with a smile, giving her thanks to Galan, before finding a suitable rock to perch on. She watched the Elves break the camp while she ate, and took advantage of the moment alone to think.
 
She was tired, wonderfully sore in quite a few places she didn’t want to think about, and feeling rather sticky, if truth were told. The last bath she’d had was back in Rohan, and she felt a moment of acute embarrassment that she’d been intimate when less than perfectly clean. It wasn’t like her at all. 
 
Hell, nothing about what happened last night was like me, she thought, biting into her apple. She couldn’t bring herself to regret it, though. The whole experience had been far too wonderful for her to feel anything but amazed and incredibly sated. 
 
She did not spend too much time thinking about the reasons why things had progressed the way they had. To her, the answer seemed obvious enough: she was female, and she was more than willing. Though she hoped the fact that both Orophin and Rúmil seemed to enjoy her company had something to do with it, she harbored no illusions that they were either infatuated with her, or, worse yet, in love with her.   And, as fond as she was becoming of them both, she was relieved to find no trace of either of those painful emotions within herself. 
 
What had happened last night was purely physical, for the sole purpose of enjoyment and pleasure. 
 
The thought was a little hard to accept, at first, for Erin had not been raised that way.  She’d never taken a lover without first being in love with that person. Not counting last night’s encounter, she’d only had four boyfriends she’d been serious enough about to sleep with. To have casually thrown all that aside in one night with not just one, but two lovers, was a little difficult to swallow without feeling a slight pang of guilt. 
 
Yet, if she was to be completely honest with herself, she knew that if the opportunity arose, she would leap at the chance to do it again. 
 
Does that make me the slut-woman from Planet Earth she wondered, feeling an inane giggle bubble up from within her. She truly had to wonder, for she had difficulty placing another human woman from this world, say Éowyn, for instance, in the position she had found herself in last night. Or rather, positions. She laughed, nearly choking on the bite of apple she was eating.
 
No, she seriously doubted Éowyn would ever have put herself in the amazing and talented hands of the two brothers from Lothlórien. So, that brought her back to her original question: should she feel guilty or not?  Honestly, she didn't know. 
 
If the way that Haldir had acted towards her was any indication, she didn't think he felt her behavior scandalous or inappropriate; rather his attitude had been one of amused tolerance towards her. He was, however, obviously upset with his brothers, and she wondered why.  Perhaps she could ask him, since he had told her he would be talking to her later.
 
The watery oatmeal wasn’t too bad, she decided. It was warm, and filled the empty hole in her stomach.  She finished her apple, and her eyes searched the group of Elves for Elrohir’s familiar face.
 
She spotted the dark and handsome elf laughing with Melaphríl, and she rose to her feet, handing her empty bowl to Galan as she passed him, once again giving him her thanks. Melaphríl was saying something obviously humorous, if Elrohir's barely restrained grin was any indication, and she saw the twinkle of mischief in both sets of eyes that turned to watch her approach.
 
“Did you sleep well?” Melaphríl asked politely, and Elrohir made a funny, choked sound, studiously avoiding her questioning gaze.
 
“Well enough,” Erin replied, returning her attention to Melaphríl, her cheeks flushing slightly as she recalled with great detail just exactly how she had slept; wonderfully sandwiched between two beautiful Elves. “And you?”
 
The fair-haired elf in front of her cleared his throat and seemed to find something interesting on the front of his tunic. “My night was not as restful as I could have hoped,” he said finally, his voice sounding low and strained.  His reply elicited another odd, choking noise from Elrohir, and she turned to look at the darker elf with a mixture of amusement and irritation.  
 
“Something the matter, Elrohir?” she asked, looking up at him sharply.
 
The healer took a deep breath and met her eyes. His expression was overly bright. “Not at all, Erin.”  He gave Melaphríl a look that sent the other elf into a choking fit.
 
Erin crossed her arms, her amusement fading quickly into ire. “Why do I get the feeling you two are having a joke at my expense?” she snapped.
 
Melaphríl shook his head, and looked away. Elrohir struggled to look contrite and failed miserably.
 
“Our apologies, Erin. We are not laughing at you,” he managed, his eyes widening in relief as he saw a familiar figure walking towards them. “Ah, Haldir,” he said, grateful for the opportunity to change the subject. “How fare you this morning?”
 
“I am stiff and sore from lying down,” the marchwarden answered easily, stopping next to Erin. “And I am looking forward to walking instead of being carried.”
 
Elrohir nodded, his formerly light expression turning serious. “Just do not overexert yourself, Haldir. I know you think your strength is endless, but please try to remember that I will not appreciate it if you undo all my hard work.”  
 
Haldir grimaced. “Aye, I will try not to, Elrohir.”
 
The healer shook his head, knowing his cautionary words had most likely fallen on deaf ears. "I will be most relieved to turn you over to the gentle hands of your Lady Galadriel," he said, his smile returning. "For you have been a most difficult patient."
 
"I am sorry to have tested your skills so grievously, Elrohir," Haldir returned with a brief grin. "But I am thankful for them, nonetheless."
 
Elrohir gave him an answering grin. “I will check on you later,” he said, and with a brief nod of farewell to them both, followed a still mirthful Melaphríl towards the other side of the camp.  
 
The Elves broke camp with efficiency that Erin admired, and in a matter of minutes, the grassy plain held no traces that they had camped there for the night. She saw Orophin and Rúmil approach them, Mírhrod following behind Orophin obediently.  Both brothers gave her a warm smile, and she found herself blushing in return.
 
“You two will walk today at the front line,” Haldir said when they reached them. “Erin will ride, and I will walk beside her.”
 
“Aye, Haldir,” Orophin replied, handing Erin her neatly rolled sleeping bag and her pack with a wink. “Just be ready to catch her if she falls.”
 
Rúmil linked his hands and boosted her onto the back of the horse, his lips curving into a grin as he watched her clutch Mírhrod’s mane in a death grip. “Our Erin is sadly no horsewoman, though,” he dropped his voice for her ears alone as he pretended to pick a blade of grass from the bay’s dark mane, “she rides well enough when motivated.”
 
Erin’s cheeks flamed and she resisted the urge to kick the smug elf who grinned at her. She adjusted the straps on her pack and refused to look at him.
 
“If you are quite finished with your teasing,” Haldir said mildly, not having missed any part of the exchange, “I do believe you are expected elsewhere.”
 
The brothers nodded and, with a wave of farewell to Erin, dashed away, their footsteps falling soundlessly over the grass. 
 
Haldir looked up at the woman critically, his eyes noting the uneasy way she sat on Mírhrod’s broad back. Shaking his head, he stepped closer to the horse, reaching for Erin’s leg.
 
“Use your legs to grip his barrel, like this,” he said, pushing her leg firmly against Mírhrod’s side. “Sit up straighter, find your center of balance.”  He watched her struggle to obey his commands, his eyes glinting briefly in amusement. “If you keep your body over his withers - here,” he pointed to where the horse’s shoulders met at the base of his long neck. “You will find it easier to stay balanced.”
 
Easy for you to say, Erin thought crossly, feeling the horse’s prominent backbone press into her sore and tender backside. They hadn’t even started yet, and her thighs already ached. 
 
Satisfied with her positioning, Haldir moved away, touching Mírhrod’s forelock briefly. “Khila amin, Mírhrod,” he said, and the horse obediently fell in step behind him.
 
The other Elves fell into their positions before them and behind them, and in a matter of moments, the whole party was moving towards their destination once more. Erin bit her lip, concentrating on staying centered on the horse as Haldir had instructed her, and not finding the task all that easy. 
 
“My brothers tell me you were a willing party to last night’s activities,” Haldir said without preamble, glancing up at the woman as he walked. “Is this true?”
 
Dying with embarrassment at his directness, Erin bristled, wishing suddenly that she were anywhere else but here. 
 
“Is that really something you should be asking me?” she asked, trying to maintain a polite tone. It came out sounding exactly the opposite, and she saw him frown.
 
“It is obvious that my brothers have taken a liking to you, Erin,” Haldir continued, well aware of her discomfort. “I am merely concerned that you will be hurt by their actions.”
 
“I’m not in love with them, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Erin snapped, clenching her teeth as Mírhrod’s withers bruised a particularly sensitive spot on her body. “In lust, maybe, but not love. I know better than that.”
 
Haldir’s eyebrow rose swiftly and he turned his head to regard her. “Do you?” he asked softly, not put off by her sudden temper.
 
Erin nodded and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, relieved to see that his expression was not one of anger. “I like them; they’re rascals, both of them.” She shook her head, turning to look at him fully. “But I accept what happened last night for exactly what it was, and I don’t expect anything more from it.”
 
There was a moment of silence between them, and finally, Haldir nodded, turning to look forward once more. “I was concerned,” he repeated, his voice breaking the silence. “Yet I am relieved by your words.”
 
“Good,” Erin replied shortly, shifting her weight on Mírhrod’s back slightly and wincing. “Can we stop talking about it now?” 
 
“If that is what you wish,” he replied, giving her a swift glance. “I find your view of this matter is very unusual for a human.”
 
 Erin sighed. Obviously, he wasn’t going to drop the subject completely. “Why do you say that?”
 
He gave her a very direct look, which made her fidget. “Most humans have difficulty separating matters of the heart from matters of the flesh. Often the two are confused.”
 
She shook her head at him. “I’m not saying I couldn’t fall in love with Orophin or Rúmil, or even both of them at the same time; I’m saying I’m not going to be that stupid, I’ve been down that path before,” she added, her voice dropping slightly. “I’m not certain I’ll ever be ready to do it again.”
 
Haldir nodded, turning away once more to watch the progress of the Elves riding and walking in front of them, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
 
~ * ~
 
The sun was beginning its descent into the west when they finally reached the borders of Lothlórien, and Erin leaned forward eagerly, peering ahead in the growing darkness for her first view of the legendary woods.
 
Rúmil had told her the trees were tall, but she’d had no idea, really, how tall they were. She thought of the immense evergreens of her world, the cedars, pines, and fir; some of them reaching upwards up 60 feet in height, with trunks so large that it would take three of her to reach all the way around them. 
 
The trees of Lothlórien easily dwarfed them, their silvery trunks so large that she was reminded of the pictures of the giant Redwoods in California she had seen once, yet even the Redwoods seemed small in comparison. The great trees rose so high above that she could not see where they ended, their branches making great and spreading canopies of green and gold that completely covered the sky.
 
As they rode beneath the shelter of green, Erin could not help but look up. The grandness of them amazed her and left her in awe that such beauty could truly exist in any world. 
 
Haldir saw her expression of child-like wonder and smiled. “They are called Mellyrn,” he said, understanding her silent appreciation all too well. Though he had lived here all his life, the great trees of his home never ceased to fill him with awe, for like all Elves, he felt a love for all things beautiful. 
 
“They are amazing,” her voice was hushed, for it seemed almost like being in a grand church, where you didn’t speak too loudly or disrespectfully. “We have some pretty big trees where I come from, but nothing compared to this.”
 
Haldir chuckled. He was looking forward to seeing her expression when they arrived at Caras Galadhon, the heart of Elvendom itself. The trees on the outer edge of the woods were small in comparison to the trees of the city.
 
Erin sighed, shifting uncomfortably.  She was tired from riding, her thighs ached abominably, and her butt was completely numb from bouncing on Mírhrod’s bony back. She was looking forward to stopping, and never having to ride again, if she could help it. 
 
“Are you well?” Haldir asked, watching her squirm with barely hidden amusement.
 
“No,” she answered with another sigh. “But I’ll live. Are we there yet?”
 
He nodded. “We are almost there. We have less than a league before we reach Caras Galadhon.”
 
Erin wondered exactly how far a league was in comparison to a mile, and how much longer that meant she had to ride. She couldn’t, of course, ask him. He wouldn’t have any idea what a mile was any more than she knew how long a league was.
 
“Do you wish to walk the remainder of the journey?” Haldir asked, seeing her grimace of discomfort as she shifted her weight again.
 
“If I can still walk,” she groused. She leaned her weight back the way she had seen Orophin and Rúmil do when riding and to her surprise, Mírhrod stopped.
 
“Cool!” she exclaimed. “I actually made him do something. Now if I can get off of him without landing in the dirt, I’ll be doing good.”
 
Haldir laughed. “Should I help you?”
 
She gave him a worried glance. “Only if it won’t aggravate your injuries. I don’t want Elrohir blaming me if you hurt yourself.”
 
He raised an eyebrow slightly. “I do believe I am well enough to assist you from your horse, lady,” he said in such a wounded tone that she had to laugh. He reached up, gripping her lightly around her waist and lifted her from the horse.
 
With Haldir’s help, she managed to slide from Mírhrod’s back, groaning slightly as her legs hit the ground. 
 
“Owie,” she whimpered, taking a tentative step, surprised that her legs would support her. “If I ever get back to my world, I’m going to have a hard time explaining why I’m bowlegged.”  With movement, however, the pain in her legs eased somewhat, and she was able to keep pace with Haldir as they walked, Mírhrod following behind them. 
 
The lights of the city glowed golden in the twilight of the forest, like hundreds of fireflies spiraling around the trunks of the great trees, lighting their way to the enormous branches above. 
 
If Erin was awed by the sight of the trees at the boundaries of Lothlórien, she was speechless at the sight of Caras Galadhon, the great city of the Galadhrim.  
 
“It is here that I must leave you, for the moment,” Haldir told her quietly, “For I must make my report to the Lord and Lady. I am certain they will wish to meet you after you have rested and had the opportunity to refresh yourself.”  Her reaction to his city pleased him.
 
Dumbly, Erin nodded, her eyes rising upwards as she took in the sight of the elaborate staircase and buildings above them. They were built in such a way that they looked to be a natural part of the trees themselves. It was beyond beautiful, and she couldn’t think of any other words to describe them. She realized that Haldir had asked her something, and snapped out of her daze. 
 
“I’m sorry, Haldir, what did you ask me?”
 
He laughed softly. “I asked if you would like to visit the springs and bathe before you take your rest?”
 
Erin’s eyes widened with anticipation at the idea of being clean once more. “That would be wonderful,” she said honestly. “I would love that.”
 
Haldir smiled at her reaction. “I will send one of my brothers for you to take you there. Do you require fresh clothing?”
 
Erin shook her head. “I still have the clothes that Éowyn sent. They are clean enough.” She looked at him worriedly. “Do you think they will be all right to meet your Lord and Lady in? I don’t have anything formal.”
 
“Your clothing does not matter at this time, Erin,” Haldir reassured her. “If there is a more formal reception later, then perhaps a gown could be procured for you.”
 
She watched him stride gracefully away, moving through the group of Elves that were breaking up, each heading in different directions. Galan came shortly after he departed to lead Mírhrod away; joining several others who seemed to be in charge of taking care of the horses Théoden had leant them. She saw Elrohir deep in discussion with several Elves she didn’t recognize, and she assumed that they were from Lothlórien, since they were dressed differently than the others. The new Elves, with the help from Elrohir and the other healers, took the remaining wounded who were not well enough to walk and carried them up a large winding staircase that encircled a nearby tree. She watched their progress as they climbed higher and higher, and did not hear Rúmil’s stealthy approach.
 
“Erin.”
 
She sputtered; aggravated that he’d startled her. “I wish you guys wouldn’t do that to me every time.”  He grinned at her grumbling and offered her his hand
 
“Haldir said you wished a bath before you rest?” he inquired, his fingers entwining with hers as he tugged her along.
 
“Oh yes,” she said, a smile lighting her face. “Please.”
 
He chuckled, leading her beside him as they walked through the trees. “I could use one myself,” he said, looking down at his dusty tunic with a grimace. “I fear I am quite filthy.”
 
Erin snorted, looking him up and down. “Elves are the most pristine creatures I have ever seen. If you’re filthy, then I must be well beyond it.”
 
Rúmil laughed, giving her a sly wink. “Then perhaps we should get clean together.”
 
Oh my, she thought, her heart speeding up at the thought, although she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps his comment wasn’t as suggestive as she was assuming it was. Right.
 
He ran his thumb slowly across her palm, and his eyes gleamed at her in the twilight as he raised her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss across the back of it. His tongue flickered out to tease the soft skin between her knuckles, and he gave a soft laugh at her sudden intake of breath.
 
Oh my.
 
~ * ~
 
Haldir slowly climbed the last flight of stairs that led to where he knew Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel waited for him. His wound hurt him much less now, although it gave him an odd twinge of pain if he moved too suddenly or stretched, it was certainly bearable. He hoped that within the next few days, his healing would be complete enough for him to return to his duties as guardian of Lothlórien’s northern border.
 
“We are gladdened to see you alive and well, Haldir,” Celeborn’s voice greeted him as he climbed the final steps to his Lord’s private study. 
 
Haldir bowed to the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim with respect, his hand touching his heart.
 
“It is a joy to see you both once again, My Lord, my Lady,” Haldir replied, raising his head. “In truth I feared when I left that I would never return to see these fair woods again.”
 
“Yet return to us you have,” Galadriel said with a warm smile lighting her fair features. “And not alone, for I saw with you a strange woman. Who is she, Haldir? For my mirror gave me no answer when it showed me her presence here.”
 
“Her name is Erin Smith,” Haldir replied, not in the least bit surprised that Galadriel knew of Erin’s presence already. “She is a traveler and, apparently, not from this world. Mithrandir believed she would be safer with us than continuing on with himself and Isildur’s Heir, for their journey ahead will be fraught with peril.”  He gave them a brief smile. “She also saved my life, although it was coincidental.”
 
Galadriel shook her head with a small and secret look. “Perhaps not coincidence, Haldir, but fate. Yet that is something we will speak of later.”
 
“Tell me of the battle, Haldir, for I would hear from your lips what has come to pass,” Celeborn said quietly, settling himself with grace and ease into his chair, his silver robes brushing softly against the wood. 
 
Haldir spoke quietly, his expression withdrawn and pensive, as he gave the details Celeborn requested. Nine score of Elves he had led to the aide of Théoden, and nearly a third of them had fallen in the battle, their lights of their eyes forever darkened in death. 
 
“Such loss grieves you deeply, Haldir,” Galadriel said gently from her place beside her husband, her low voice full of compassion. “As does us all. Yet they have given their lives that others may live, for a purpose greater than any they have been given before.”
 
The marchwarden dropped his head slightly at her words, closing his eyes.
 
“The battle for freedom has just begun,” Celeborn added, his expression darkening. “And we cannot sit idly by while the men of this world fight against the evil that threatens us all.”
 
Haldir looked up, nodding with grim resignation. “I will lead our people once more to the aide of Men, if that is what you wish.”
 
Celeborn gave him a gentle smile. “That task will not fall to you alone, Haldir. Others will come, responding to the call that Lord Elrond has put forth. Those who have not left these shores will join in the battle to come.” He took a deep breath, his smile becoming fierce. “And I will lead them.”
 
~ * ~
 
Erin leaned back against the rocks with a sigh she felt to her toes, her hands making idle ripples in the hot water. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth seep into her bones, luxuriating in the feel of being clean once more. 
 
Rúmil had led her, tugging her along playfully behind him, to a glade surrounded by large ferns and flowering bushes. In the center of the glade was a natural formation of rocks, encircling a deep pool of water. A constant stream of hot water splashed in a miniature waterfall over the rocks, spreading ripples across the clear pool.  Lanterns had been lit and cast a soft glow, illuminating the glade and making it appear almost magical.
 
She had dipped her fingers tentatively into the water and had been pleasantly surprised at its temperature. There was no nauseating sulfur smell that was usually associated with hot springs, and she was amazed to see that although the water spilled continuously from some hidden source beneath the rocks, the pool did not overflow.
 
Without any of the teasing he had given her earlier, Rúmil helped her out of her clothes, ignoring her embarrassed protests, and pushed her gently into the water, laying her pack to rest beside one of the larger rocks at the edge of the pool. The water had slid over her skin with delicious warmth, and she quickly immersed herself completely, letting the water cover her head for a moment.  When she had finally wiped the water from her eyes, Rúmil had already joined her in the pool, smiling down at her with amusement.
 
Wordlessly he had reached for her, pulling her to him briefly and claiming her mouth with a kiss that left her weak-kneed. She had reached up to steady herself, her hands sliding over his water-slicked shoulders and arms as he pressed his lean body against hers. Finally, he had released her, his fingers brushing lightly against her face.
 
“I will leave you to bathe,” he said softly, his lips curving into a smile at her slightly dazed expression. “For you will never get clean if I continue to distract you this way.”
 
She had pushed him away and he had laughed at her disgruntled expression, handing her a small vial of liquid soap.
 
“You think a bit too much of yourself, Rúmil,” Erin had retorted, pouring the soap into her palm and working it into her hair, sinking lower in the water so that it covered her to her shoulders. “I think I can manage to keep my hands off you long enough to get clean.”
 
Rúmil had cocked his head and his grin widened. “What a challenge you present me with, gwilwileth, ” he laughed. “But that I am duty bound to see you clean and presentable for the Lady, I would very much like to test your strength of will in this.”
 
She’d snorted, her mock-scowl dissolving into a grin. “Uh-huh. You could try.” Her bravado, of course, was completely false. She knew all it would take was for him to kiss her again, and she’d be left a puddle of willing goo at his feet.  She had turned her back to him and dunked her head beneath the water to wash the soap from her hair.
 
Now, finally clean from head to toes, she relaxed against the rocks, feeling the aches and pains that had plagued her since she first came to this world float away with the ripples in the water.
 
“If you are finished, Erin, you should get dressed,” Rúmil said from his perch on a nearby rock where he had been watching her. “Haldir, no doubt, will be arriving to escort you to the Lady.”  He was already dressed, his long blonde hair braided neatly at the temples and holding the length of it away from his face.
 
With a sigh, Erin nodded, making her way to the edge of the pool reluctantly. A substantial length of absorbent cloth was left for her to use as a towel, and she wrapped it around her body, tucking the ends so it would stay in place. She gathered her hair in both hands and began to wring the water from it, glancing up at Rúmil.
 
“What does gwilwileth mean?” she asked, trying not to feel embarrassed as she reached for her clothes and began to dress, pulling the soft blue tunic that Éowyn had given her over her head. She slid the fabric over her skin, realizing belatedly that she had forgotten to put her bra on first, and shrugged mentally. She only had the one with her, and it was in dire need of a wash. For now, she could do without it.
 
“It means butterfly,” Rúmil answered, resting his arms on his knees as he watched her dress. 
 
Erin gave him a quick glance as she reached for the dark brown leggings, her fingers brushing briefly against the soft, cottony fabric. “Butterfly?” she replied, shaking her head. “I’m not a butterfly.”
 
He chuckled. “Orophin named you thus, but I find it fitting, having been with you these past days.” His gray-blue eyes were warm. “You have changed, Erin.”
 
She struggled with the lacings on the waist of the leggings, wishing they had a more simple method of fastening. “I don’t think I have,” she replied, finally succeeding in pulling the laces tight and tying them. “I don’t feel any different.” At his direct look, she blushed. “Okay, besides that.”
 
Rúmil laughed at her blush. “You do not see it yet, but you will.”
 
Erin rolled her eyes, pulling her shoes on and lacing them quickly. “Elves,” she said, giving him a short look. “So cryptic.”  She found her comb at the bottom of her pack and pulled it through her hair, sitting on the edge of a rock as she tried to work the tangles free. 
 
Haldir found her this way, struggling and cursing her hair, and his eyes glinted in amusement. 
 
“The Lord and Lady will meet with you now, if you are ready,” he said, watching her pull the comb through a particularly nasty knot and wincing in sympathy. “It will be but a brief meeting, for they know you are tired from your journey.”
 
Her hair had mostly dried by this point, and Erin worked the last tangle free with a sigh. “Tired, yes. But I’ve got a million questions for them,” she said, tossing her comb into her pack. “Gandalf seemed to think your Lady might be able to help me.”
 
Haldir nodded. “She may, for she is very wise. However, your questions can wait until tomorrow, for the hour grows late. They would greet you before you retire.”
 
“All right,” Erin agreed, reaching for her pack, only to have it taken from her by Rúmil. 
 
“I will take this to the room where you will be staying,” he told her, shouldering the pack easily. 
 
“Room?” Her eyes widened in surprise and delight. “I get to sleep inside for a change?”
 
Haldir nodded, and Rúmil gave her a quick grin. “A room on one of the lower talans has been set aside for your use while you stay with us,” Haldir said. “Come, they are waiting.”
 
~ * ~
 
Erin followed behind the tall and graceful elf, climbing the stairs that curved around the enormous tree. Her hand gripped the railing as she climbed higher and higher, and she found she had to stop looking down, for the height made her feel dizzy. Instead, she looked up, and marveled silently at the beauty that surrounded her.
 
Never before had she seen buildings such as these; their craftsmanship was beyond anything she’d ever seen in her world. Built in such a way that they seemed to be a natural part of the tree they were in, the homes of the Elves were made of graceful curves and arches, silvery white wood gleaming in the lights of the lanterns that hung everywhere. She could see that they were mostly open, lacking traditional roofs, yet the branches and leaves above them sheltered them from any weather. She wondered what it would be like to sleep inside a room that was open in such a way, and found herself looking forward to the experience.
 
Her legs began to ache from the climb, and she was relieved when they finally came to their destination; the steps ending in a long wooden pathway that branched off into several forks. Haldir took the right-most fork, and she followed him, staying well to the center of the path and avoiding looking over the edge. She wasn’t afraid of heights, really, but walking this far up in a tree with no railings to protect her made her feel somewhat nervous. 
 
Haldir stopped before a doorway and knocked firmly on the gleaming surface of the door.  Erin did not hear anyone reply, but he pushed the door open confidently, and she followed him, her eyes widening in wonder at her surroundings.
 
The room was not overly large, but it was comfortable; intricately carved bookcases lined three out of four walls, and each held volume after volume of leather bound books. The floor was smooth and polished, inlaid with similar curving designs of a lighter grain of wood, and she followed the flowing pattern across the floor until her eyes rested finally on occupants of the room.
 
Celeborn and Galadriel saw the young woman before them grow pale and sway visibly.
 
“I know you,” Erin managed; before she felt her knees give way.

Chapter 9
 
**Ripples. You are like a pebble that has been tossed into a still pond. Your presence here will create ripples, no doubt.**
 
Erin opened her eyes slowly, surprised to find herself lying on the floor, her head cushioned by Haldir’s cloak.  Three pairs of elven eyes looked down at her with mixed expressions of relief and concern.
 
“Are you well, Erin?” Galadriel asked kindly, her voice low and soothing.
 
“What happened?” she asked, sitting up with Haldir’s assistance, his strong hands supporting her back gently.
 
“You fainted,” Haldir answered, his arm across her shoulders holding her steady. “I caught you before you hit the floor.”
 
Erin shook her head, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “That’s twice now. I’ve never fainted before in my life, and since I’ve been here, I’ve gone down twice.” Her lips twisted wryly. “Must be the air.” 
 
“You said something just before you swooned,” Celeborn said, looking at her keenly. “You said ‘I know you’. Yet how can that be? What did you mean by that?”
 
She studied the faces of the Lord and Lady closely, and took a deep breath. “You both look like someone I met in my world. Not exactly the same really, but so close that it took me by surprise.” Obviously, she thought with a grimace, rubbing her forehead in confusion. 
 
“Who would that be?” Galadriel pressed gently, for the young woman’s answer both puzzled and intrigued her.
 
Their eyes were on her and she swallowed nervously. How to explain it? It seemed so weird to her, the faint echo of resemblance in these non-human faces to the people she had not seen since she was a little girl.
 
“When I was growing up we moved around a lot,” Erin began, her voice low and shaking slightly. “My father was in the military, and he was frequently re-stationed in different parts of the world.  We spent several years in Europe, and when I was seven, we took a vacation and went to England for a week.” She took another deep breath and continued. “I don’t know the name of the town we stayed in, just that it had the most wonderful park I’d ever seen. The trees were what I loved the most; their colors were so bright and beautiful, and they seemed so wonderful and tall.  My mother and father and I went there one afternoon and had a picnic, and I wandered off on my own to explore the woods.”
 
Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged a brief glance, before Galadriel nodded encouragingly for her to continue.
 
Erin fiddled with the ends of her tunic as she tried to recall that day; it seemed so long ago, and until now, she hadn’t given it much thought. “I remember my mother telling me not to get lost, or the fairies would find me and take me away.” She smiled briefly at the memory. “My mother was like that, she liked to tease me. She knew I was old enough that I didn’t believe in fairies anymore, but young enough to still want to.” Her head was down and she didn’t see Galadriel’s smile of understanding. 
 
“Did you lose your way in the woods?” the Lady asked quietly.
 
Erin looked up from her hands and nodded slowly. “Yes. I did.”  She shook her head. “I wasn’t scared at first, because I didn’t realize I couldn’t find my way back to where my parents were. It took a while, you know, for it to really sink in that I didn’t know where I was going.  I kept walking, thinking that the next tree or the next bush would take me out of the woods, only I kept walking further and further into them, and farther away from my parents.”
 
“You must have been frightened when you finally realized you were lost,” Galadriel said sympathetically. 
 
Erin gave a short laugh. “You could say that. I was crying by that point. It was getting dark, and the trees started looking kind of spooky. I was tired and scared. I finally sat underneath a tree and called for help, but I didn’t think anyone would hear me.”
 
“Someone did?” Celeborn asked, his eyebrow lifting slightly. 
 
She nodded. “Oh yes.” Her mouth curved in a slow and wistful smile. “The fairies came for me.”  Erin saw their startled expressions and laughed lightly. “They weren’t really fairies, come to take me away, as my mother had always told me. But they were the most wondrous people I had ever seen.”
 
“Child, why do you weep?” a melodious voice asked, and she looked up, wiping her tear streaked face with the back of her sleeve.  A man and a woman smiled down at her. They were taller than her father, and their eyes were the color of the sky. Their faces were kind and beautiful, and Erin had never seen anyone like them in all her life.
 
“I’m lost,” seven-year-old Erin sniffled. “I can’t find my mommy and daddy.”
 
“Shhh,” the woman said, bending down to enfold the frightened little girl in her arms. “Do not fear. We will show you the way.”
 
Erin hugged the woman tightly, so glad to have been found she felt herself shaking. 
 
“What is your name, little one?” the man asked, his voice as melodious as the woman’s. His expression was concerned, and Erin found herself smiling bravely up at him.
 
“My name is Erin Smith. Who are you?”
 
The man and the woman exchanged a quick glance, before the woman helped her to her feet, holding her hand gently with her long and graceful fingers.
 
“We live near these woods and go walking here every day,” the woman answered with a smile. “Come, let us return you to your parents. They must be worried.”
 
“They never gave me their names, and my mother and father were so glad they’d found me that I don’t think they even thought to ask them,” Erin said, shaking her head slightly. “I thought they were fairy folk for many years as a child, until eventually, I forgot about the whole thing.”  She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “When I saw you both standing there, it brought it all back.”
 
“There is some meaning to this,” Galadriel murmured, glancing at her husband. “Yet I do not know what it could be.”  She offered her hand to Erin and assisted the young woman to her feet. “You should rest now, Erin, for you are tired from your long journey. We will seek the answers to this mystery tomorrow.”
 
“A room has been prepared for you,” Celeborn added with a regal tilt of his head. “Haldir will escort you so you do not lose your way.” He gave her a brief smile. “We will look forward to speaking with you after you have rested.”
 
~ * ~
 
Haldir glanced concernedly at his companion, his hand tightening slightly on her arm as he escorted her across the talans. She looked pale and visibly shaken by her meeting with the Lord and Lady.
 
Erin was barely aware of her surroundings as she allowed Haldir to lead her to where her room was. Her mind was desperately trying to cope with the implications of her memory, and with meeting Galadriel and Celeborn. Was it too far fetched to think it was something beyond coincidence that the man and woman who had found her, lost in the woods of England as a child, reminded her so strongly of the Lord and Lady?  It certainly wasn’t any weirder than going camping in Port Angeles and waking up in Middle Earth.
 
Galadriel had said they would seek answers tomorrow, and Erin found it difficult to wait. Part of her was anxious and eager to find out what the Lady had in mind; perhaps she would finally find out why she was here, and if she would ever get home again. The other part of her, however, firmly refused to let her get her hopes up too high. She didn’t think she could survive the disappointment if she was merely given more questions with no answers to them.  She knew she definitely would have trouble if Galadriel told her she could never go home again.
 
Would it really be that bad, her small inner voice asked slyly, to remain in a world like his one? Honestly, she wasn’t sure. She missed her parents most of all, and the few friends she had back in her world. And showers, bathrooms in general, and a few other modern conveniences she had always taken for granted. But she had to admit that a part of her wouldn’t be unhappy if she had to stay. This world was magic; and part of her felt as if she had finally come home.
 
What about the whole Dark Lord thing and the great war that is coming? She’d seen enough death and violence to last her the rest of her life. This world was dangerous and unknown. Anything could happen.
 
Exactly, the small voice replied. Anything.
 
She realized they had stopped and glanced up at Haldir, who was smiling at her bemusedly.
 
“What?” she asked, slightly annoyed by his expression.
 
“I asked, lady, if you wanted something to eat before you retired,” Haldir repeated patiently. “I can have someone bring you a light supper, if you wish.”
 
“Oh,” she replied, giving him a sheepish grin. “That would be great, Haldir. Thank you.”
 
He nodded and opened the door. “This is your room while you are with us,” he said, drawing her inside.
 
She looked around the room with unconcealed delight, her eyes traveling over the intricately carved panels of wood that covered the walls, to the graceful arches of the open roof above her. The floor had the same detailed inlay of lighter wood that she had seen in the room where she had met the Lord and Lady, and it gleamed brightly in the light of the candles that were scattered about the room. She walked eagerly to the single window and peered out, her stomach dropping uneasily when she looked down and saw that they were still quite a ways from the ground. Stepping away from the casement, she turned to look at the furnishings and her eyes lit upon the bed with delight. 
 
“A bed! A real bed!” she exclaimed, running her fingers over the soft quilts and pushing experimentally on the mattress. It was firm, but yielding, and comfortably sized for a good sprawl. 
 
“I take it then that the room meets with your approval?” Haldir asked with a brief grin. 
 
“Oh yes,” Erin replied, grinning back at him. “Very much.”  She looked back at the bed with undisguised happiness. “I will have to remember to thank Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn when I see them again.”
 
Haldir gave her a brief nod. “Then I will leave you to your rest, lady. Someone should be bringing your supper to you shortly. Will you require anything else before I leave you?”
 
Erin turned to look at him, and gave him a grateful smile. “No, Haldir. Thank you. Have a good night.”
 
He touched his hand briefly over his heart and dipped his head slightly. “You are welcome, Erin. Sleep well.”  With a swish of his cloak he was gone, closing the door behind him.
 
~ * ~
 
A hand was stroking her face lightly. Another hand had wormed beneath the quilts and was stroking something else, and Erin woke from her sleep with a low gasp. A single candle glowed warmly in the darkness, casting long shadows on the walls of her room.
 
"Did you miss us?" a playful voice whispered in her ear, nipping it teasingly. 
 
Erin sighed as she felt two warm bodies slide into the bed, one on either side of her. "I was sleeping," she groused half-heartedly, her body wiggling in delight at the feel of their bare skin sliding against hers.
 
Rúmil chuckled, his fingers trailing over her cheek. "But did you miss us?" he asked again.
 
"Not at all," she lied, gasping when she felt Orophin's warm body press against her back. His arms curled around her waist, and his lips tickling nape of her neck.
 
"I do not believe you," Rúmil said, looking down at her with a smile that could only be described as wicked. His hands slid over her arms and he leaned close, his lips inches from hers. "I do believe we have a matter of a test of wills to resolve?"
 
Erin froze, helpless and unable to move as his lips descended upon hers. 
 
His kiss was soft, teasing, his tongue flickering over her lips before slipping into the warmth of her mouth.  Erin couldn't prevent the moan that escaped her, and she heard Orophin chuckle softly in response.
 
"Fine," she gasped, when Rúmil released her mouth and she could form a coherent thought. "You win."
 
Rúmil pressed his body against hers, and she could feel the hardness of his arousal against her stomach as he insinuated a leg between her thighs. "Good," he murmured softly, before claiming her lips once more.
 
Erin sighed against his mouth, running her hands down the hard planes of his chest, exploring the warm and silky skin with her fingertips. She found his nipples and brushed her thumbs against them, feeling them harden under her touch. Rúmil made a low noise in the back of his throat and deepened his kiss, almost bruising her lips with the force of it. She yielded to the onslaught of his lips and tongue, gasping when she felt Orophin's hands move upward to cup her breasts.
 
Orophin felt her arch against him when his fingers found the hardened peaks of her nipples, and he groaned softly, feeling her bottom press delightfully against his arousal. Rúmil's kisses had turned her into a sweet and pliant armful of warmth.  He trailed kisses across her shoulders, licking and nibbling the sensitive flesh of her neck.
 
Rúmil’s lips left hers to explore the column of her throat and she threaded her fingers through his hair, tilting her head forward to lick the tip of his pointed ear. He softly bit her neck in response, growling low in his throat when she did it again.
 
“You play with fire, gwilwileth,” Orophin murmured in her ear, his warm breath sending shivers of delight down her spine. “Be careful you do not get burned.”
 
Erin smiled, and captured the tip of Rúmil’s ear with her teeth, running her tongue over the curved edge, before flicking it teasingly against the tip once more. 
 
Rúmil shuddered; his hands slid upward to press her against his brother as his mouth dipped lower, pulling his sensitive ear out of her reach. He licked a wet path across her stomach, his long hair trailing over her skin and tickling her.  
 
Orophin felt Erin squirm against him as his brother worked his way down her body, and he rolled, pulling her upward so she lay with her back against his chest, her legs between his. His arms kept her from wriggling free when Rúmil’s head dipped even lower, and he wrapped his legs over hers, using his lower legs to pull her thighs apart.
 
She moaned softly, feeling vulnerable and exposed as Orophin parted her legs and held them with his own, pinning them against the mattress. She felt Rúmil’s soft hair brush against the tender skin of her thighs and cried out when she felt his mouth touch the top of her sex.
 
Rúmil rubbed his cheek against her thigh, inhaling her musky scent and feeling his arousal throb in response when his tongue reached out to taste the delicate folds before him. He heard her whimpering cry and smiled, settling himself more comfortably between her trembling thighs.  He rolled his eyes upwards as he found the sensitive nub at the top of her opening and teased it with his tongue, watching her face as she surrendered to the pleasure, her eyes closing as she moaned in utter abandon.
 
It was an exquisite torture of the best kind, and one from which she could not escape, even if she wanted to. Rúmil’s tongue had found the throbbing bundle of nerves between her legs and was working it in slow and languid licks, each caress leaving her gasping and breathless, her body aching with need. She was crying, wordless, pleading with him to give her more, each touch of his tongue on her burning flesh driving her closer to the edge. 
 
He heard her breathless pleas, felt her thighs tensing beneath his hands as he worked the source of her pleasure with his tongue, tasting her arousal and feeding off of it like a hummingbird from a sweet flower. He slowed his pace slightly, keeping her on the edge of her release, and slid two fingers into the heat of her opening.
 
Erin felt his fingers enter her and was undone, feeling them thrust deep inside of her as she cried out her release, sobbing and shaking with the intensity of it. She collapsed against Orophin, feeling weak and boneless, her whole body trembling with the aftershocks of her climax.
 
Rúmil slid his fingers from her warmth; raising his upper body slightly, he offered them to Orophin, who took them into his mouth, licking her essence from his brother’s fingers. Rúmil’s eyes dilated and his breath caught, watching Orophin’s mouth work, his pink tongue flicking out to tease the webbing between his fingers.
 
Orophin smiled wickedly, feeling the young woman quiver in his arms as she watched him lick his brother’s fingers.  “Hmm, gwilwileth,” Orophin purred, looking down at her with eyes dark with desire. “You taste sweet.”
 
It was the most erotic display she’d ever seen, watching his tongue lap and curl around the Rúmil’s long and slender fingers, knowing he was tasting her on his brother’s flesh. His words made her shiver, as did the heat in his eyes. 
 
Orophin saw her shiver and gave her another naughty grin. “My brother is not through with you yet, pen-vaelui. However, I do believe he has gotten his revenge for you licking his ears.”
 
Erin felt his body slide over hers and looked up to see Rúmil smiling down at her, the tip of his arousal pressing against her opening. Orophin still held her trapped with his body, his legs pulling hers even further apart, opening her for his brother. Rúmil paused at her entrance, teasing her already sensitive folds with the tip of his length, before entering her body in one swift and claiming thrust.
 
Rúmil groaned softly when he felt her heat envelop his length, burying himself as deeply as he could into her willing warmth. He heard her answering cry of pleasure and felt her arms reach up to hold him, sliding down his back to cup his bottom as he began to move. Slowly he withdrew, drawing himself almost completely out of her body, before claiming it once more, wringing another cry from her lips. He took his time, prolonging his pleasure and hers, hearing her soft breathless gasps as he drove his length deeper into her heat.
 
Orophin felt his arousal ache as he watched his brother’s lithe body pumping slowly against the woman who shook like a leaf in his arms, her steady moans of pleasure a counterpoint to Rúmil’s deeper ones. His brother’s eyes were closed in bliss, his breath coming in shorter gasps as he neared his pinnacle, and he reached out to touch his face, bringing Rúmil’s eyes open to focus on his. 
 
Her eyes were closed tightly; her head thrown back against the unyielding hardness Orophin’s chest. She was lost beneath the sensation of being filled; taken and possessed by the body that claimed hers so completely. Each thrust brought her nearer to the peak of her pleasure, and she gripped his buttocks tightly, driving him closer and deeper, seeking the sweet release that danced just out of reach. 
 
Rúmil felt her body tighten beneath his, her walls convulsing around his length as she reached her peak. Orophin’s eyes held his as he felt his own release finally come, crashing over him like a wave as he buried himself deep, crying out wordlessly as his hot seed filled her. He thrust a final time, panting and shuddering; his eyes locked with the gray-blue ones so like his own.
 
Orophin smiled tenderly at the glazed expression on his brother’s face and leaned forward, kissing him lightly on his open mouth. 
 
Rúmil shuddered slightly at the soft caress of Orophin’s lips against his and he felt his brother pull back, looking down at the young woman with a speculative and lusty gleam in his eye.
 
“That was lovely, pen-vaelui,” Orophin said huskily, his hands sliding down Erin’s shoulders to cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing the hardened nipples until he heard her gasp. “But now I believe it is my turn.”
 
Erin opened her eyes and squeaked in objection when Rúmil withdrew from her body. He laughed softly, pressing a soft kiss against her mouth, before sliding to the other side of the bed.  Erin had no time to protest as Orophin flipped her neatly over, pulling her up onto her hands and knees.
 
“You do not mind, do you gwilwileth?” he asked softly, his tongue flicking out to tease the back of her neck, nipping the soft flesh between his teeth. “You do not mind if I take you?”  His words were a teasing growl.
 
Erin sighed softly, shivering with anticipation at his words. 
 
His hands slid under her belly and upwards to her breasts, and he pinched her nipples a little more forcefully, hearing her groan softly in response. He teased her opening with the tip of his arousal, sliding the length between her wet folds and heard her gasp as she arched her back, her hips thrusting towards him supplication.
 
“You have not answered me, melethron,” he growled, running his tongue over the curve of her spine. “Do you want me to take you?” He pinched her nipples again, almost hard enough to hurt, but the pain was mixed deliciously with pleasure. 
 
“Oh yes,” she groaned, feeling achingly wanton in her need. “Please, Orophin.”
 
She felt him chuckle softly and with a quick move, her request was granted. She gasped as she felt him fill her, the force of his movement pushing her almost flat against the mattress. He lifted her hips and steadied them with his strong hands, pushing her knees slightly farther apart with his thighs.
 
His strokes were slow, drawing his length almost completely out of her body before thrusting forward, burying himself into her heat once more. Her passage was tight against him, and he found himself groaning at the sensation, watching her body sway with the force of his thrusts. He raised a hand to his mouth, wet two fingers, and touched the smaller opening that beckoned him to explore. Erin tightened against him when his fingers entered her and he heard her soft whimper as he slid his fingers in and out of her tight passage.
 
Erin threw her head back with a shudder when she felt his fingers enter her, stroking in counterpoint to his hard length that thrust deep within her. The momentary discomfort had passed, and it its place was a rising tide of pleasure that was almost too much to bear.  She felt Rúmil slide next to her, his mouth seeking hers and she met his lips with her own, her breath came in short, quick gasps as she felt herself nearing her peak once more.  He swallowed her moans, muffling them with the heat of his mouth, his tongue tangling and twining with hers. 
 
Orophin could hear the desperate edge to her moans and knew she was close. His own release was near at hand and he could feel the fine tremble that went through her as each thrust drove her closer to her fulfillment. He increased his pace, driving his length with more force into her depths, and heard her keening cry as she came for him, the delightful sounds absorbed by his brother’s mouth. He threw his head back and groaned deeply as he reached his own release, the delicious friction finally sending him over the edge.
 
Erin collapsed against the mattress, Orophin’s weight following her and covering her body as she lay beneath him, quivering from her head to her toes. Rúmil’s hands stroked her hair back from her forehead and he murmured soft, nonsensical words, soothing the tremors from her shuddering limbs. She felt a soft kiss on the nape of her neck before Orophin withdrew, rolling to his side and stretching his lean length out beside her with a long and contented sigh.
 
Rúmil smiled and pushed Erin over so that her back lay against his brother’s chest, and stretched his body beside hers, tucking her head under his chin.  His hands continued to stroke her hair, and he felt her tremors finally fade. He glanced over her head and met his brother’s eyes, and saw his own smile mirrored on Orophin’s face.
 
She felt his hands play idly with her hair, running the brown strands slowly through his fingers, and closed her eyes with a soft sigh, snuggling against both bodies that held her. She searched her mind for any feelings of guilt or worry about what she had just done, and thankfully, found none. Instead, if she was challenged to find a single word to describe the way she was feeling at this very moment, with both their arms holding her gently, she’d have to pick ‘safe’. She felt a keen sense of security with them, something she wasn’t wholly familiar with from her previous experiences with lovers. 
 
Orophin smiled, looking down at the young woman who relaxed against his chest, watching his brother play with her hair with a bemused expression. Erin was a delightful and continuous surprise. Though she was not the first mortal woman they had lain with, she was vastly different from the wenches he and Rúmil had tumbled on those rare occasions when the opportunity presented itself. With them, it was merely a matter of needing and finding the simple release in their willing bodies. With Erin, he found himself wanting to give pleasure as much as receive it.  He found himself wondering idly if his brother felt the same.
 
Erin sighed in contentment, a brief smile curving her lips as she stretched between them; a soft chuckle escaped her. “I’ll never be able to ride with either one of you again and keep a straight face.”  Her laughter faded into a gasp when Rúmil’s fingers brushed the tips of her nipples teasingly, and she felt Orophin’s arousal press against her backside.
 
“Hmm,” Orophin murmured into her ear, teasing the curve of it with his tongue. “You say that like it is a bad thing.”
 
I’m not going to get much rest tonight, Erin thought, closing her eyes when Rúmil dipped his head and captured a taut nipple with his lips, his lean hands splaying across her belly. She sighed, arching into Orophin’s hardness and felt his hand slide between her thighs. I hope Galadriel isn’t an early riser. 
 
It was the last coherent thought she had for quite a while.
 
~ * ~
 
Galadriel sat on the wooden bench beside the fountain, her eyes closed as she breathed the sweet morning air, her thoughts focused on the unusual woman who was sleeping in the tree above her. 
 
Mithrandir's words did little to help her, for the wizard was no more knowledgeable than she when it came to Erin's situation. He did not know how she came to be here, or what her purpose was. He hoped that Galadriel would be able to find the answers that eluded him. 
 
Rising gracefully, her white robes trailing softly behind her, she approached her mirror to seek her answers within its depths.
 
Her blue eyes focused on the smooth surface of the water, and she cleared her mind of all other distractions. Erin's face appeared before her in startling focus, and a small ripple appeared in the center of the image, as if a single drop of water had been spilled from her pitcher into the center of her mirror. Her eyes widened slightly as the ripple slowly spread, the ring of water growing larger until it reached the edge of the mirror and disappeared.  
 
The image faded, and Galadriel raised her head, sending her mental call to Haldir to bring the woman to her.
~ * ~
 
Her room had a small bathroom adjoining it, and Erin took advantage of the opportunity to wash the sticky residue from the previous night’s exertions from her skin, wincing as the cool washcloth brushed against her tender skin. She was sore, but for reasons she couldn’t help but smile about. She had no idea what time Rúmil and Orophin had finally left her room last night, but she hoped they both had trouble walking this morning. 
 
Finished with her ablutions, she found a clean pair of leggings and the tunic she had worn the day before and slid them on, finding the laces a bit easier this time now that she was more familiar with their workings. The leggings chafed her a bit in places she didn’t want to consider, but for the most part, she was comfortable. She eyed her dirty clothing at the bottom of her pack distastefully, mentally reminding herself to ask Galadriel where she could take them to clean them. 
 
Closing her pack, she tossed it next to the bed and glanced at the window. The light that streamed through it told her it was probably late morning, and she was grateful that no early-rising elf had come to wake her before she was ready. She tugged the quilts into some semblance of order and made the bed as neatly as she could, and was startled by a tap on her door.
 
“Come in,” Erin called over her shoulder, tucking the end of the quilts under the edge of the mattress. She looked the bed over critically and nodded, satisfied that there was no evidence of last night’s three-way tumble.
 
She shouldn’t have bothered, if Haldir’s bemused expression was any indication. Obviously he knew what his brothers had been up to last night.  She turned to face him and gave him an embarrassed but welcoming smile.
 
“Good morning.”
 
“Good morning, Erin. I trust you are well rested?” he asked, his lips twitching briefly. 
 
Erin crossed her arms and looked at him. “Yes. I am,” she said, daring him to make any further comment.
 
“Good,” he replied shortly, turning to hide his smile. “The cooks saved you something for breakfast, then I am to escort you to the Lady.”
 
“Thank you, Haldir,” she replied. “I’m starving.”
 
He cleared his throat and looked up at the graceful arches above him for a moment, before offering her his arm. “I imagine you are,” he said dryly.
 
She ignored his barb and took his arm. “Not that I’m not happy to see you again, Haldir, but why are you playing escort?” she asked curiously as she pulled her door closed behind them. “Don’t you have other duties more important than keeping me from falling out of the tree?”
 
He laughed. “Only a few of the Galadhrim speak Westron, Erin. My Lady thought you would feel more comfortable with a familiar face.”
 
“Oh,” she said, nodding. “Makes sense. How’s your wound?” She eyed him critically as they walked. “You seem to be moving better.”
 
“I am almost healed,” Haldir told her with a brief smile. “I should be able to resume my regular duties within a day or so.”
 
“That’s wonderful,” Erin said, shaking her head in amazement. “I did not think anyone could recover so quickly.”
 
Haldir shrugged gracefully and gave her a small smile. “Elrohir has his father’s skill in healing, for which I am thankful.”
 
He sat across from her and spoke of general things while she ate her simple breakfast of fruit and grains, mixed with a generous portion of honey, washing the sticky yet delicious meal down with several glasses of cold, clear water. He spoke of his duties as a guardian of Lothlórien’s borders, and of visiting Mirkwood and Imladris.
 
“What is Lord Elrond like?” Erin asked curiously, swallowing the last bite of fruit with obvious enjoyment. 
 
Haldir considered her question a moment before replying. “He is wise, and very respected among Elves for his knowledge of things that most of us do not concern ourselves about. His half-human heritage gives him a unique perspective when it comes to matters of men, and he is trusted by both races equally.”
 
Erin set her cup down beside her empty plate and looked at Haldir with surprise. “Half-human?” she asked softly. “I didn’t know that elves could, er, have babies with humans.”
 
He tilted his head slightly and nodded. “It happens so very rarely. To my knowledge, only Lord Elrond and his children are the only Peredhils on these shores.”
 
Curiosity prompted her to ask, “Why is that? Why is it so rare?”
 
Haldir looked surprised at her question. “It is unusual for an elf and a mortal to bond, Erin. When we choose to bind ourselves to another, it is for the rest of our lives. If one of the two should pass from this world, the other will remain alone.” He shook his head slowly. “A mortal’s life is but a brief moment in time to us, a star that burns brightly then fades away. An elf who joins with a mortal is faced with their beloved’s impending death, and the rest of their life pining for what has been lost.”
 
"That would be terrible." Erin slid her plate away from her with a small sigh, pushing her rising sense of disappointment deep inside where she could pretend she didn't feel it. "I guess I can understand why it doesn't happen."
 
He regarded her steadily for a moment, seeing the brief flash of disappointment in her eyes before she dropped her gaze.  "I am sorry, Erin."
 
Her laugh was forced. "Sorry? Whatever for? I'm glad you told me."  She rose from the table without looking at him and gathered her dishes, taking them to the door that led to the kitchen and handing them to the elf who had the duty of cleaning them.
 
Haldir frowned, rising gracefully from the table and watched her return. "If you are ready, Erin, the Lady waits for you."
 
"Sure," she shrugged, falling in step beside the tall elf as they left the dining area for the stairs that would take them to the forest floor. She clutched the smooth railing as she descended, careful to look only at the steps in front of her and tried very hard not to think about how high up they were.
 
I don't know why I'm so bothered by what Haldir told me, she thought, her eyes carefully focused on the steps ahead. It's not like I'm staying here for good or anything, so why would I be so stupid as to fall in love anyway?  They were nearing the bottom of the stairs and she felt a sense of relief seeing the forest floor so close. But what if you can't go home?  Do you want to spend the rest of your life alone?  She snorted mentally. Better alone than to open her heart up to the kind of pain that only love could bring.

Chapter 10
 
Sunlight filtered through the branches of the trees above them, casting dappled shadows across the grass and dirt of the forest floor. Birds sang lovely elaborate songs as they walked beneath the trees, and Erin found herself glancing up frequently, continuously awed by the sight of the towering trunks of the great Mellyrn. She felt small and insignificant in their grand presence, but also very lucky to have been given the opportunity to see them. She knew it was something she would never forget.
 
Haldir walked silently beside her as he led them down a long series of stone steps, his handsome face pensive, although he had smiled and nodded in greeting whenever they passed another elf, answering their friendly greetings in his own language. Again, Erin was struck by the sound of it, so beautiful and almost musical, lacking the harsh guttural sounds of English.  She had only learned just a few words, thanks to Rúmil and Orophin’s teaching, and other than ‘friend’, she doubted she could use any of them in polite conversation.  The thought made her smile.
 
The steps ended and she followed the silent elf across a small wooden bridge that arched over a narrow stream, before he came to a halt beside her.
 
“The Lady waits for you there,” he said, pointing to a small and narrow path with more stone steps leading down. “Follow the steps and you will reach the Glade of the Mirror. I will wait for you here”
 
“You’re not coming with me?” Erin asked in surprise. 
 
Haldir shook his head and gave her a brief smile. “No. The Lady wishes to see you alone.”  He saw her troubled look and touched her shoulder gently. “Do not be afraid.”
 
“I’m not afraid, really. Just a bit nervous,” Erin admitted softly, giving him a wry look. “I’m trying not to get my hopes built up too high.”
 
He nodded, dropping his hand to his side. “If anyone can help you, Erin, the Lady can.”
 
Erin sighed. “I hope so.” She turned towards the path and paused, looking over her shoulder at him. “How do you say ‘thank you’ in your language?” she asked.
 
“Hannon chen,” he replied, leaning his lithe frame against a tree and settling himself to wait.
 
~ * ~
 
The steps were smaller than the ones she and Haldir had descended earlier, some of them half-covered in moss, and Erin got the feeling that not very many passed this way. She knew of Galadriel’s Mirror from her friends and wondered if she would have to look into it. The idea both frightened and intrigued her - she would actually see something of magic, although she was afraid of what it might show her. 
 
She descended the last few steps and looked up, smiling hesitantly at the beautiful elf lady who stood regally beside a large stone pedestal. In the center of the stone was a shallow, silver colored dish.
 
“Will you look into the mirror?” Galadriel asked, her voice like velvet. Her eyes, though kind, seemed to glow with an inner light.
 
Erin swallowed nervously as she walked closer. “What  am I going to see?” she asked, stopping in front of the pedestal.
 
Galadriel gave her a  subtle smile. “Even the wisest cannot tell,” she replied, filling a small silver pitcher with the water from the small fountain behind her. She looked at Erin and poured the water slowly into the shallow dish. “You may see things that are, things that were, and some things that have not yet come to pass.”   
 
Cryptic enough, Erin thought. “What do I have to do, exactly?” she asked, stepping closer to the mirror.
 
Galadriel smiled at her. “Simply look,” she said softly, stepping away and placing the small pitcher next to the fountain. 
 
“All right,” Erin replied, stepping up on the small stone step at the edge of the pedestal. She took a deep breath and looked into Galadriel’s Mirror.
 
For a moment, her reflection stared back at her, the brown eyes mirroring her curiosity and apprehension. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, and the reflection rippled, as if a drop of rain had splashed suddenly into the center of it. She watched the ripple grow larger as it reached the edges of the mirror. Instead of dissipating when it touched the sides, the ripple rebounded, creating a second ripple on the surface of the water. Erin’s eyes widened in surprise as she saw her reflection change under the roll of the water.
 
The eyes were the same color, but they held the look of someone older and wiser, more experienced. The face was thinner as well, darkened by exposure to the sun, and small lines were apparent at the eyes and mouth. The dark brown hair had changed as well; it was much longer, falling well past her shoulders and disappearing behind her back. Before she could become too fascinated with the appearance of what she could only guess was her older self, the image shifted entirely. 
 
The ripple reached the center of the water and expanded again, growing large once more as it stretched towards the outer edges of the mirror. A familiar face replaced hers; a grimy and bloodied hand shaded his brow as he looked at something in the distance.
 
Aragorn!
 
A hand clasped his shoulder and he turned, giving a brief smile to yet another familiar face as Legolas spoke to him, his lips moving soundlessly in the reflection. 
 
The ripple had hit the edge of the mirror and was flowing back, and the image shifted once more.
 
The scene was dark, and an elf battled fiercely with an enormous monster of a creature, his handsome face twisted in pain as another creature struck him from behind. He fell, his eyes open and staring, the light within them fading, and Erin gasped, recognizing Haldir.
 
The ripple caused the image to change again as it made its way to the outer edges of the mirror once more.
 
Gandalf on Shadowfax, holding a small, childlike form in front of him as the gray stallion raced across the plains, red echoes of flame flashing in the mountains behind them. The wizard’s face was lined with worry as he bent his head over Shadowfax’s neck, urging the great stallion faster.
 
Ripple.
 
Éowyn weeping, watching riders depart, her blue gaze fixed on the darkly handsome man who led them; even in the absence of sound, her grief and terror for them apparent.
 
Shift.
 
Erin again, locked in an embrace with a form whose features were hidden, joy written plainly of her features.
 
Ripple.
 
A large stone door at the base of a mountain, opening slowly, its black entrance gaping like the great maw of some hungry creature, eager to devour any whom would dare to pass within.
 
The water turned black, the ripples churning the surface as another image appeared.
 
Erin frowned, not understanding what she was seeing at first. It was an image of herself, standing on a long stretch of empty road. Ahead of her was an intersection, with the road turning either right or left. Both directions stretched endlessly to the horizon.  
 
Is that all it can show me? Erin thought with despair, for none of the images had given her any clue as to her reason, her purpose for coming here, or if she would ever see her home again. Is that all there is to see?  She did not realize she was crying until the images faded, and she was left staring at her own reflection, tears of disappointment trailing down her cheeks.
 
“The mirror does not always give us the answers we seek,” Galadriel’s voice came softly, and she felt the Lady touch her gently on her shoulder.  Erin looked up, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her sleeve and saw compassion in the starry blue eyes that met hers.
 
“Yet I know a little of what you have seen, for I have sought visions of your destiny within this mirror as well,” Galadriel continued, her velvety voice low and soft. “Mithrandir spoke truly when he said your presence here would cast ripples, for indeed, it has already begun.”
 
Erin cleared her throat and struggled to speak. “What do you mean, Lady?”
 
“I saw Haldir’s death at Helm’s Deep.  I knew my brave marchwarden would not return to us when I sent him to the aide of men. Yet returned he has. Because of you.”
 
She started, nearly stumbling off the edge of the stone step, her eyes wide. “Then maybe that was all I was here for. Maybe I’ve already done what it is I’m supposed to do.”
 
Galadriel shook her head slowly, “Something of great importance still lies ahead of you, for I have seen it. Your place is not here among the golden trees.”  Galadriel gestured for Erin to join her on the small stone bench at the edge of the glade.  When her companion had settled herself, she continued. “You must return to Rohan, to the capital city of  Edoras and see the Lady Éowyn.”
 
“Éowyn? Why?” Erin asked, shaking her head slightly. “What is it I’m supposed to do in Edoras?”
 
Galadriel gave her another one of her small smiles. “The Lady faces a great decision that will effect the outcome of the great battle yet to come against the forces of darkness. You must help her make the right choice.”
 
Erin blinked in surprise. “How am I supposed to know what the right choice is?”
 
The Lady laid a gentle hand against Erin’s forehead. “You will know, when the time comes.”
 
She closed her eyes against the soft and comforting touch of Galadriel’s hand. “And then what do I do? Will I finally get to go home?”  She felt the hand withdraw and she opened her eyes. “Lady? Do you know?”
 
Galadriel slowly shook her head. “Strange and great forces have brought you here, child, for purposes they are reluctant to reveal wholly to my mind. Yet one thing has remained clear to me, whenever I have sought your path within my mirror.”  The great Lady sighed softly, the light in her blue eyes dimming somewhat. “You will be given a choice, when the time comes. What you will decide, I cannot tell.”
 
“A choice? As if I don’t already know,” Erin smiled briefly. “I will choose to go home.”
 
Galadriel gave her a small and knowing smile. “Perhaps something will make you choose to stay,” she said lightly. “Perhaps you will find the one thing you have been searching for, and once you find it, you will not want to leave it behind.”
 
“I doubt that,” Erin snorted. “What on earth would I find that is that important?”
 
The Lady raised her fair brows and gave a soft silvery laugh. “You have not guessed?”  When Erin shook her head, she smiled. “You will discover it soon enough.”
 
Erin frowned. “You won’t tell me?”
 
Galadriel rose from the bench and straightened the wrinkles that had formed in her white gown, her eyes twinkling with good humor when she looked down at her smaller companion. “You would not believe me if I did.”
 
She stood, feeling dwarfed by the tall and elegant elf. “Try me,” she challenged with a smile.
 
The Lady inclined her head gracefully. “Love,” she answered simply.
 
Erin shook her head. “Oh no,” she said shortly. “I’m done with that.”
 
Gentle fingers lifted her chin and brought her eyes to the wise and knowing gaze of the Lady.
 
“Do not let your heart be buried by your pain, Erin Smith. Do not judge all men by the actions of one,” she said softly. 
 
Erin swallowed, feeling small under the intensity of that blue and fathomless gaze. “I don’t want to be hurt again,” she whispered.
 
Galadriel nodded. “Yet there is no joy in life without risks.”  She dropped her hand away, but held Erin’s gaze a bit longer. “Already there are two who have found their way past the barriers of your heart, seeking a foothold there, though you would deny it.”
 
“I don’t love them,” Erin denied with a small shake of her head, her cheeks flushing under Galadriel’s knowing look. “I can’t.” The last was said in whisper.
 
A golden eyebrow arched slightly. “Cannot? Or will not?”
 
Erin dropped her head and looked away. “Haldir said that elves and mortals aren’t a good mix. So I can’t fall in love with them, even if part of me wanted to.”  She took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t want them to live the rest of their lives knowing that one day I was going to die, and they’d be alone again.” She risked a glance at Galadriel and saw that the Lady was regarding her with kindly.  “I don’t want to grow old and wrinkly while they stay forever the age that they are.”
 
“You have an enormous strength of will, Erin,” Galadriel said finally. “I can see well now why the Valar have chosen you.”
 
She snorted, attempting a smile. “And here I always thought I was just plain stubborn.”
 
~ * ~
 
Haldir watched the leaves of the trees around him flutter with the playful breeze as he waited for Erin to return, leaning comfortably against the silver bark of its massive trunk. His mind replayed the earlier scene, seeing the quick flash of disappointment in the dark eyes of the woman before she could hide it from his keen sight, and a soft sigh escaped him. 
 
He had known there would be trouble the moment he had discovered the three of them asleep together, his brothers’ arms and bodies curled protectively around her smaller form. It was obvious from the disheveled state what they had been doing, and while he had no argument with a casual act of pleasure, he worried that the situation might develop into something more. For Erin, at least, despite her protests to the contrary, it had already begun, if her disappointment to his explanation why elves and mortals did not bond was any indication. Part of him regretted telling her; yet he would not stand idly by and watch his brothers break her heart.
 
Haldir heard their soft footsteps, or rather Erin’s footsteps, on the stone steps long before he saw them, and he heard their muted voices as they talked and he straightened, stepping away from the tree. As they came into view, he bowed, touching his hand over his heart and the Lady nodded in greeting, giving him a brief smile.
 
“Haldir, a party of elves and Dúnedain are being led by Elladan to our borders. Will you meet them? I am certain Elrohir is anxious of news of his brother.”
 
“How far are they?” Haldir asked.
 
She considered his question silently for a moment. “They are riding to the north in Gladden Fields.”  She smiled briefly. “It seems there are a few of our woodland kin among them.”
 
“Aye, my Lady,” Haldir replied, glancing briefly at Erin. “Farewell,” he said, giving her a brief nod, before turning swiftly away, his footfalls silent as he moved through the trees, his gray cloak streaming behind him. 
 
Erin watched his graceful form disappear within the trees, before she turned to look at Galadriel. “More elves?” she asked curiously.
 
The Lady nodded. “Elladan comes to collect Elrohir. They will continue onward to the plains of Isen and meet Aragorn there, to join their strength with his.”  Galadriel’s gaze rested on Erin for a moment, before she gave her a small smile. “And your path lies with them.”
 
< >  < > < >
 
The Grey Company, as the riders were called, arrived at the borders of Lothlórien just as the sun set. A man and an elf rode at their head, their horses moving swiftly across the grassy plains as they approached the golden wood. They had pushed hard since leaving Mirkwood, and there was obvious relief on the faces of the elves and men that followed them when the great trees were at last in sight.
 
Elladan's dark pewter eyes narrowed as he saw three familiar gray clad forms step out of the woods, and a smile crossed his handsome face.
 
"'Tis Haldir and his brothers," he told the man who rode beside him. " The Lady of the Wood knows we have come."
 
Halbarad nodded at the dark haired elf and gave him a grin. "We shall enjoy the hospitality of your fabled kin this evening."
 
Elladan nodded but did not reply. He doubted that Haldir would escort the entire Grey Company into Caras Galadhon, but they would be allowed within the borders to rest in safety.
 
They stopped their horses when they reached the three elves who waited for them, and Elladan gave Haldir a welcoming grin.
 
"Mae Govannen, Elladan ó Imladris," Haldir said, his hand touching his heart. "It is good to see you again."
 
"And you, Haldir," he returned the gesture, his dark gaze resting briefly on the other two elves. "Rúmil and Orophin, it has been a while since I have been graced with your company," he said with a brief smile. "How fare you three?"
 
Haldir straightened, glancing briefly at Halbarad before answering. "We fare well, now that we have returned to our home."
 
Elladan chuckled at the marchwarden's not so subtle hint. "This is Halbarad, kin to Aragorn, and leader of the Dúnedain."
 
"Mae Govannen, Halbarad ó i’Dúnedain," Haldir greeted the tall man politely, his keen eyes noting the subtle resemblance to his friend. 
 
"Thank you, Haldir of Lórien," Halbarad replied politely. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Elladan and Elrohir speak well of you."
 
The marchwarden's eyebrow rose sharply, and he favored Elladan with a briefly teasing grin. "I doubt that highly, Halbarad."  He gestured for them to follow him. "Come. We will guide your company to a place where they can rest in safety."
 
They followed the three elves into the wood, and Elladan enjoyed Halbarad's expression of awe as he took in the sight of the great towering trees above them. 
 
"There are elves in the trees," Halbarad whispered, his sharp eyes catching the occasional flash of gray within the green and gold of the leaves.
 
"They will guard your company this evening. I have been asked to escort Elladan and you to the city," Haldir replied, glancing up at the riders. "Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel would speak with you both before you leave these borders."
 
Elladan nodded. He had certainly expected no less, and he looked forward to seeing his grandparents again, as well as reuniting with his brother, whom he had not seen since Elrohir left Imladris for Helm's Deep.
 
The path between the great trees narrowed, and the company was forced to ride single file, until it finally opened, revealing a large and peaceful looking glade. It was here that Haldir, Rúmil and Orophin came to a halt.
 
“Your company is welcome to rest here, until we return from the city. There is water nearby, and it is safe enough to risk a fire. My wardens will keep watch,” Haldir told them.
 
Halbarad nodded, turning his horse to pass the message along to the lieutenants of his company, who would in turn pass it along to the others. 
 
Elladan dismounted fluidly, rubbing his horse’s neck fondly before turning it over to Emed, who led the bay stallion away. He glanced at Haldir, his normally cheerful expression absent. “How many were lost?” he asked quietly.
 
“Too many,” Haldir replied, shaking his head. “A remembrance ceremony will be held for them this night.”
 
The dark-haired elf’s lips tightened slightly. “Then we must make haste, for I do not wish to miss it.”
 
~ * ~
 
Lanterns cast their golden glow throughout the city as Erin slowly climbed the steps that circled the tree, one hand gripping the smooth railing, the other lifting the hem of her gown to keep from tripping on it as she climbed. Galadriel had somehow managed to find a dress that would fit Erin’s shorter body, and with a few adjustments, the more pronounced curves of her hips and bust. 

Lindel was amazing, Erin thought, glancing at the beautiful elf that walked beside her, the lanterns making her golden tresses glow like a halo around her fair head. The seamstress had looked at the dress, looked at Erin, and began pulling seams from the beautiful blue gown like there was no tomorrow. Without taking a single measurement that Erin could discern, Lindel had managed to make alterations, her needle darting into the silky fabric in swift and fluid movements. In just a matter of hours, she had handed the dress to a dubious Erin, and had smiled knowingly when the woman pulled it over her head and it fit as if it were made for her. 
 
“Hannon chen,” Erin had told her, wishing she knew more words to express her amazement at the she-elf’s miraculous skill. “I can’t believe you did that.”
 
Lindel had smiled at her and nodded at her thanks. Unfortunately, communication ended there between them, for Lindel had no more understanding of Erin’s language, than Erin did of hers.
 
Luckily, some things just didn’t need talking about, Erin thought. Lindel had quickly taken charge of Erin and had not only dressed her, but had made sure her hair was combed and neatly braided.  The tall and lovely elf had given her a nod of approval and had said something in her musical voice, her smile of satisfaction telling Erin that she was pleased with the results of her handiwork.
 
Now, she allowed Lindel to guide her, though she wasn’t sure where they were going, and she wished again that she could speak more Elvish. 
 
They reached the top of the stairs and Lindel pushed her gently towards the open hall, and Erin saw with relief that Celeborn and Galadriel were there, standing side by side as they greeted a man and a dark haired elf.  Lindel patted her gently on the arm and gestured for Erin to go on, and Erin gave her a grateful smile. 

"Hannon chen, Lindel," she said again.
 
The seamstress gave her a pleased smile and nodded. "Navaer," Lindel replied, before turning back to descent the steps.
 
Erin entered the hall, feeling her gown slide softly against her bare legs, and felt suddenly shy as the occupants of the hall turned to acknowledge her approach. She tried to ignore how self-conscious she felt and kept her eyes on Galadriel's face, though she saw Rúmil and Orophin’s approving looks out of the corner of her eye. Their look made her straighten her shoulders and lift her head, and she tried to move more gracefully.
 
Galadriel hid her smile as she saw the way Erin lifted herself, and silently approved. 
 
The dark haired elf turned his head to look at her and Erin blinked in surprise. It looked like Elrohir, but there was something different about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He gave her an assessing look that made her flush and look away, and he laughed softly, saying something in Elvish.
 
“Elladan, this is the lady Erin, who is a stranger to our world. Mithrandir sent her here for guidance,” Galadriel’s voice was gently reproving, though her eyes sparkled with warmth as she turned to Erin. “Erin, this is my grandson, and brother to Elrohir, Elladan.”
 
Erin gathered the loose fabric of her dress and attempted a curtsy, pleased that she managed to do it without falling on her face. She raised her head and met the eerily familiar face of Elladan and realized, with a start, why she had mistaken him for his brother. They are twins!  “I am pleased to meet you.” She managed to straighten from her curtsy with more grace than she would have expected.
 
He gave her a smile that would have melted any woman to her toes. “The pleasure is mine, lady,” he said, his hand touching his heart as he bowed his head briefly. 
 
“This is Halbarad of the Dúnedain, Captain of the Grey Company, and kin to Aragorn,” the lady continued, and Erin turned to greet the tall man who stood beside Elladan. 
 
Halbarad greeted her courteously, giving her a polite half-bow. “I am pleased to meet you, lady,” he said.  Erin noted the similarities and the differences between Halbarad and Aragorn with interest. The man before her was as handsome as her friend, though different in build. His shoulders were broader than Aragorn’s, and his eyes were a deep dark brown, similar to her own. His shoulder length hair was lighter than Aragorn’s as well, but there was something about the way that he carried himself, and the overall shape of his features, that reminded her of her friend.
 
“I am pleased to meet you too,” Erin replied. “Aragorn saved my life on the plains of Rohan, and I consider him a friend.”
 
A soft rustling of fabric announced the arrival of two more elves, and Erin turned to watch two familiar faces enter the hall.
 
“Ah, Elrohir and Melaphríl. Good,” Celeborn said quietly, greeting them as they crossed the hall. “Everyone needed is present.” He offered his arm to his wife and tucked her hand against his as he guided her down the smoothly polished steps. 
 
Elrohir embraced his brother and spoke softly to him, and Erin heard Elladan’s chuckle and equally soft reply. Side by side, it was easier to tell them apart, Erin thought, for Elrohir was slightly leaner than his twin, and Elladan’s shoulders slightly broader. 
 
Galadriel and Celeborn passed by them, and the twins broke apart, falling in step behind the Lord and Lady, Melaphríl trailing slightly behind Elrohir. 
 
Haldir offered her his arm and she accepted it, walking behind Halbarad, Rúmil and Orophin falling in behind them. "Where are we going?" she quietly asked. "What’s going on?"
 
He glanced at her as they walked. "The Lord and Lady have called a council, before the remembrance ceremony," he replied softly. "We honor the fallen this night."
 
Erin fell silent beside him, grateful that he seemed to understand the need to shorten his normally long strides to match hers. They entered a large room set with chairs, and the Lord and Lady took their seats gracefully, Erin taking her seat in the chair that Haldir guided her to. She watched the others settle themselves comfortably in the remaining chairs, and leaned forward expectantly.
 
"War is already upon us," Celeborn began without preamble, his keen gaze resting briefly on each of their faces. "The armies of Saruman have been defeated, however Sauron even now draws those to him who would see Middle Earth covered in eternal darkness."
 
"The time of the elves is at an end and our people leave these shores in greater numbers than ever before," Galadriel said in her midnight voice. "Yet those of you here, and those that follow your leadership, will not abandon men to their fate. The Grey Company will follow the son of Arathorn to his destiny."
 
"Those among us who will fight will join with the men of Rohan," Celeborn said gravely. "I shall lead them in battle."
 
"Then the bones of our foes shall gleam brightly in the sun!" Elladan declared, his dark gray eyes gleaming fiercely. 
 
"They will hear our laughter," Elrohir added just as strongly, grinning at his grandfather.
 
"You will not be with Celeborn," Galadriel told them softly, turning to look at them each in turn. "Your duty is with Aragorn, and with Erin."
 
Erin squirmed uncomfortably in the chair as two sets of dark pewter eyes turned to her in surprise.
 
"What business does a human woman have with the Grey Company?" Elladan asked softly, raising a dark brow. He quickly switched to Elvish, turning his incredulous gaze to his grandparents. "Does she have some skill in battle that is not readily apparent by her small form?"
 
"She has no skills for fighting," Elrohir added in Elvish. "Nor basic survival skills that I could see."
 
Celeborn held up his hand to silence their protests and glanced at Galadriel.
 
"Her destiny lies in Edoras," Galadriel said softly, her tone brooking no argument. "And you will take her there."
 
Elladan sat back, glancing at Erin with an unreadable expression, though she could tell he wasn't pleased at whatever Galadriel had told him. 
 
The Lady gave Erin an apologetic look. "Forgive my grandsons, Erin. They do not have the gift of my knowledge and they are young. I have told them they are taking you to Edoras with them."
 
Both elves had the grace to look slightly abashed by her softly scolding tone. 
 
"As for Erin's skills, or their lack, I believe you both are equally capable of giving her some training, are you not?" Celeborn added, fixing them both with his blue gaze.
 
Elladan and Elrohir nodded, and Elrohir gave her a slightly friendlier look. "If she is willing, that is?"
 
She stiffened slightly. "I'm willing to learn whatever anyone is willing to teach me," she said tartly. "I may be new here, but I'm not stupid."
 
"They were not questioning your intelligence, Erin," Celeborn chided gently, giving her a reproving look. "They understand the dangers ahead of them far better than you, and were reluctant to take a woman unprepared into them."
 
Erin wilted under his disapproval. "I'm sorry," she said softly, dropping her gaze. "I appreciate that they are willing to teach me anything that will make me be less of a burden to them."
 
He nodded and looked at his grandsons, switching to Elvish. "Teach her knives first. She is too small for one of our bows, and there is no time for her to learn the skill." He gave them a brief smile. "Think of the challenge she represents," he told them, knowing that both  Peredhils loved any challenge.
 
They nodded in unison, and Galadriel felt a brief surge of pity for Erin at the determined look she saw in their eyes, before she turned her attention to Halbarad.
 
"I have a message for your kinsman," she said to him. "Will you give it to him?"
 
"Aye, my Lady," the man replied softly, obviously awed by her beauty. 
 
Galadriel gave him a small smile. "Tell him this: The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead."
 
Erin shivered unexpectedly at the Lady's words, an image of a large stone door set at the base of a mountain loomed for a moment in her mind, its opening gaping like a black and hungry mouth, and a feeling of dreadful anticipation settled over her.
 
~ * ~
 
Elven voices lifted in song, singing a lament for their fallen comrades as the pyres began to burn, and Erin wept silently beside Haldir, hearing his surprisingly good tenor voice blend with the others. She did not know the words to the song, but  its meaning was clear to her. They were saying farewell to their friends, loved ones, and companions. 
 
She had been surprised to learn that elves did not bury their dead. So many pyres had to be built for the fallen, and that was why the ceremony had been delayed until now. As fire after fire was lit, engulfing the still beautiful bodies with angry red flame, the song swelled in volume and intensity, until Erin felt as if her heart was in her throat. She was struck again by how awful it was, how terribly unfair that these beautiful, noble and immortal beings should have died. It just didn't seem right. 
 
Tears blurred her vision and she was forced to look away as the last pyre was lit. Her stomach knotted and churned with apprehension as she realized that many of those who were gathered here tonight would soon be leaving to face the greatest danger they had ever known. And many would not return.
 
Haldir saw her small form sway and reached out to steady her. The others sang on, but he pulled her away from the gathering, his expression concerned. 
 
"Are you well, Erin?" he asked, once they were far enough from the others that they would not disturb the ceremony.
 
Erin raised her tear-streaked face to his and wiped at her reddened eyes. "Would it be horribly rude and inconsiderate of me if I said I wanted to go to bed now?" she asked shakily. "I feel so empty-all I want to do is sleep."
 
"You are overwhelmed," he replied softly, nodding in understanding. "No one expects you to keep the vigil; it will last all night, until the last fire is gone."
 
She sniffed, wiping her face with her hands. "I didn't want to be disrespectful," she whispered, dropping her hands to her sides. "I just don't think I can take any more right now."
 
"I will have someone escort you back to your room," he said gently. 
 
"I will take her, muindor," Rúmil's voice came softly from behind him. "I have said my farewells to my comrades already, and I was never one for singing."  He appeared next to Haldir and smiled understandingly at Erin before he looked at his brother. "You should return."
 
Haldir hesitated, torn between his duty as captain of the Galadhrim and his concern over leaving the two of them alone together. He opened his mouth to send Rúmil back, when he heard his Lady's voice in his mind.
 
**Have Rúmil tend to her, Haldir. She is in need of his comfort, and he would find solace in her arms as well.**
 
**Well I know this, Lady,* Haldir replied with a frown. *I fear...**
 
**Your fears are groundless, my brave marchwarden**, came the gentle reply. **Worry not over the state of Erin's heart, nor that of your brothers’. It will be well.**  He felt her touch withdraw from his mind and sighed, glancing at Rúmil and giving him a nod.
 
"Very well, Rúmil. Escort Erin back to her room, for the lady is tired." He gave Erin a brief smile and touched his hand to his heart. "Sleep well, lady. I will see you tomorrow."
 
She watched him turn away, and heard his voice lift once more to join the others in their lament for their fallen.
 
“He sings beautifully, does he not?” Rúmil asked, taking her cold hand and enfolding it with is. "As does Orophin. Alas, I am not so gifted." His comment had the desired result and he saw her lips twitch briefly in a smile.
 
"I'm going to miss you, Rúmil," she said quietly, her smile fading. "Both of you."
 
He leaned down and kissed her softly on her cheek, pressing his lips against her ear. "Then I shall endeavor to give you something to remember me fondly by."
 
Her soft laughter at his playful comment warmed him, and he was relieved to see some of the grief fade from her eyes. He tucked her arm against his, and led her towards the tree that held her talan.

~ * ~
 
Erin's fingers struggled with the laces at her back that held her gown, muttering under her breath about the lack of zippers and buttons in the clothing of this world. At least the elves are smart enough to avoid things like corsets, she thought wryly, tugging at the end of the lace and biting back a curse when it simply pulled the knot tighter. Her arms ached from bending unnaturally behind her and she dropped them to her sides, glancing up at the mirror in the small bathroom. 
 
"Let me help you," an amused voice came from behind her, startling her. 
 
"Elves should wear bells," she said crossly, giving him a mock glare. "So you can't go sneaking up on people."
 
Rúmil laughed, reaching for the laces that had eluded her. "My apologies for startling you," he said, not sounding the least bit sorry. "But it is difficult to move with more noise."
 
Erin shook her head, smiling at him. "I'll forgive you for startling me if you can get me out of this damned dress."
 
He arched a dark golden eyebrow at her and grinned. "Such a difficult request to refuse,” he said lightly, his nimble fingers already undoing the laces with ease. 
 
She sighed when she felt the material loosen, and her breath caught as Rúmil slid the fabric from her shoulders, the blue dress pooling in a silky pile at her feet. His fingers gently stroked her bare shoulders and he looked at her questioningly.
 
“Are you tired, gwilwileth?” he asked softly. “Should I leave?”  His fingers drew idle patterns against her skin.
 
Erin shook her head, accepting the small part of her heart that belonged to this handsome elf without regret. “Stay, Rúmil,” she whispered, tilting her face up to look at him. “Please.”
 
He bent his head and brushed his lips softly against hers, smiling when he felt the slight tremor that went through her small frame. “Gladly,” he said against her mouth.  In a quick move, he scooped her up in his arms, laughing at her startled and indignant gasp as he carried her out of the bathroom and to her bed.
 
Erin squeaked in surprise when he tossed her onto the bed and she glared up at him in mock outrage. She opened her mouth to scold him and he silenced her protests with a kiss so searing it left her shaking to her toes. She watched hungrily as he divested himself of his clothing, laying it carefully across the back of her chair, before turning back to the bed and sliding across the quilts. His skin was smooth and warm, rubbing against hers with delightful friction as he moved to lie next to her, propping his head on his hand and looking down at her. His gray-blue eyes were serious for a change, and he traced a path from the tip of her chin down her neck and between her breasts, seeing the skin beneath his touch shiver slightly in response.  He lifted his gaze and looked at her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
 
“I will miss you too, gwilwileth,” he said softly, before covering her body with his own. His lips found hers and he nuzzled them gently, parting them with his tongue to taste the warmth of her mouth as his hands slowly stroked her skin in feathery touches. There was no haste to his explorations, and as his mouth moved against hers, his hands discovered her anew.
 
She moaned softly as his lips discovered the sensitive spot just at the curve of her neck, her arms rising to stroke the silken muscles of his back as he nipped and licked her skin. Her fingertips explored the lean hardness of his body, tracing a path down his spine, sliding her hands down the round cheeks of his bottom and the soft hollows of his hips, before retracing her path back up his spine to bury her hands in the length of his soft hair.  He lifted his head, his eyes dark with passion, and kissed her again.
 
She was sweet and light in his arms and he enjoyed the feel of her small hands exploring him, her caresses fueling the fire that built within him until he was aching and hard with his need. He groaned softly when her hands slid over his chest and her fingers brushed against his nipples, feeling them harden at her touch.  He drew back slightly and reciprocated the gesture, teasing her nipples with his fingers until he heard her groan in response. Her hands reached up and pushed against him and he allowed her to roll him onto his back, eager to see what she would do.
 
Erin’s eyes lowered as she took in his beautiful form and her hands ached to explore every inch of him.  She straddled one of his legs and leaned forward, kissing him lightly as her hands stroked the flat planes of his stomach, sliding upwards to caress his chest again. He groaned against her mouth when one hand found his hardened length, and she took it in her hand, stroking it slowly until he gasped in pleasure.
 
“Ai,” he gasped, his body arching under hers. “You would undo me quickly that way.”
 
She smiled against his neck, licking her way up to his ear, her hand continuing to slowly stroke his arousal. He shuddered beneath her, crying out softly as she licked the tip of his ear and she felt his length pulse in her hand. 
 
He felt her tongue touch the sensitive tip of his ear and cried out, his arousal throbbing in response to her combined caress. Tensing his legs, he flipped them both over, pinning her beneath him once more.
 
“My turn,” he growled softly, pulling his length away from her teasing hand, sliding his thigh between hers. He bent his head and captured her lips with his, his tongue invading her mouth hungrily as his hands slid down to cup her breasts. He teased her nipples unmercifully, hearing her whimper in response, her hips arching against the pressure of his thigh.  His mouth left hers to trail slow kisses down the smooth column of her neck, his teeth nipping lightly at the tender skin of her collarbone, before licking a wet path between her breasts. 
 
His long hair tickled her stomach as he trailed lower, the delicious pressure of his thigh leaving her as he slid further down, placing kisses on her flat belly. Her body tensed with anticipation as he settled himself between her thighs, his strong hands pulling them further apart and opening her to his gaze.
 
“Erin,” Rúmil said huskily, looking up the trembling line of her body to her face. “Look at me,” he demanded softly.
 
She opened her eyes and gasped when his mouth touched her sex, his eyes locked with hers.  She was lost at the first lingering lick, and the heat of his eyes held her captive. 
 
Her soft moans aroused him, as did the musky scent of her as he teased the warm folds that opened like a red flower before him, and his length ached as he pressed it against the mattress. This could very well be their last time together and he wanted it to last, wanted to give her a memory that would make her smile. His tongue flickered over the small bundle of nerves at the top of her opening, and she gave a keening cry, shuddering against him when his fingers slid into her warmth. 
 
“Rúmil,” Erin gasped his name, arching her back as she felt the first welcome waves of release crash through her, leaving her trembling in its wake. She felt his fingers leave her body as he rose, sliding his lean form over hers and pressing his lips against her mouth. She tasted her essence on his tongue as it brushed against hers, and she moaned, feeling him press the tip of his length against her opening, shuddering as he claimed her body in one swift thrust.
 
Rúmil groaned softly at the sensation, feeling her tight warmth envelop him completely as she lifted her hips to meet his thrust, her soft, breathless gasps of pleasure delightful to his ears. Slowly he rocked them together, his lips trailing kisses over her face as he whispered encouraging words, wanting her to quicken for him once more. He struggled to hold himself back as she tightened inexorably beneath him once more, her soft cries taking a desperate edge. He pressed his lips against her ear, increasing his pace slightly as he felt his own release near at hand.
 
“That is it, my lovely gwilwileth,” he whispered raggedly, his breath coming in short, quick gasps. “Tell me…”
 
His soft words sent her over the edge. “Rúmil!” she cried out breathlessly, her body shaking with the intensity of her release.
 
He growled low, thrusting hard against her, his cries mingling with hers as his own release claimed him. He collapsed against her chest, hearing her heart beating wildly beneath his ear and feeling the trembling aftershocks of her release against his body.
 
Erin closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath, feeling the comforting weight of his body pressing her against the mattress. She opened her eyes once more and raised her hand to stroke the soft blonde hair away from his face, hearing him give a soft and contented sigh.
 
“Mmm,” he said against the warmth of her skin, enjoying the soft caress. “That is nice.”  He reluctantly pulled away, sliding his softening length from her body and smiling at her whimper of protest. With a low chuckle, he pulled her against him, stretching his length out on her bed and folding her against his chest, her head tucked comfortably beneath his chin.
 
Erin’s fingers softly explored the smooth expanse of his chest, admiring the rippling play of muscles beneath the skin. “Want to know something funny?” she asked, enjoying the strength of his arms around her.
 
“Hmmm?” he made a questioning noise in the back of his throat.
 
“As much as I love what we just did,” Erin paused, swallowing the knot in the back of her throat before continuing. “I think I will miss this the most.”  She felt him drop a soft kiss on the top of her head.
 
“Go to sleep, Erin,” he said softly, his arms tightening briefly before he reached down and pulled the quilts to cover their bodies.
 
She snuggled against him, closing her eyes. “You won’t leave?”
 
He chuckled again. “Do you want me to stay?”
 
“Ummhmm,” she answered sleepily, feeling blissfully content.
 
He pressed his lips against the soft skin of her temple. “Then I shall stay.”
 
Oh Erin, her sleepy brain tried to protest. This isn’t good. As she gave into her body’s need for sleep, she found she didn’t care.

Chapter 11
 
The fuzzy black and orange caterpillar was crawling across the back of her neck, its tiny sticky feet tickling her skin, and she reached up to brush it off.
 
"Erin, wake up," the caterpillar said, its voice sounding suspiciously like Rúmil's. She opened one eye and looked at his face, before burying herself deeper into the quilts.
 
He chuckled, tickling the back of her neck again. "Elladan and Elrohir will be leaving today, sleepy one. You must get up."
 
"No." She pulled the quilt over her head.
 
Rúmil pulled at the quilt, laughing as she struggled to keep her grip on the end of it. "If you do not get up, I will send Elladan and Elrohir to get you out of bed. You would not enjoy their methods as much as mine."
 
"Fine," she groused, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "It is your fault I'm so sleepy. It's not fair that you're so cheerful."  She tried to glare but failed miserably as he grinned at her.
 
"I do not recall that you objected too much, gwilwileth," he teased, tossing her clothing onto the bed. "Hurry. There is still time for you to eat breakfast with the others." He kissed her quickly on the cheek before pulling away so she could dress.
 
Erin slid from under the quilts, stretching her delightfully sore muscles and covering her yawn with her hand. She reached for her clothes, and slid the gray blue tunic over her head, sighing as she realized that she had forgotten to ask Galadriel about laundry services. 
 
As if reading her thoughts, Rúmil tossed her pack on the bed. "Lindel brought this by earlier while you were still sleeping. The Lady thought you would like to have your clothing cleaned before you left."
 
Erin grinned, shaking her head. "I don't know how she knows the things she does, but I'm grateful. I forgot to ask her yesterday." She opened the pack and found her bra, sliding her arms out of the sleeves of her tunic so she could put it on underneath it. 
 
Rúmil watched the process with open amusement. "What is the purpose of such a garment?" he asked.
 
"If you had these things bouncing on your chest whenever you run or ride horseback, you wouldn't have to ask," Erin retorted, sliding her arms back through the sleeves of her tunic and tying the laces at the neck. She glanced down at the tunic and smiled; it was one of the ones Éowyn had given her, and it had small flowers and horses neatly stitched across the cuffs. Her leggings and boots followed, and she ran a comb through the tangles of her hair, wincing as she encountered a particularly nasty snarl. 
 
She laid the dress she had worn the night before over the arm of the chair, her fingers brushing against the silky material for a moment, before she turned, closing her pack and lifting it to her shoulders. The dress was beautiful, but impractical, and she doubted she would have the opportunity to wear it again any time soon.  Besides, she thought ruefully, the material looks like it would wrinkle something terrible.
 
Rúmil’s fingers linked with hers as he led her from her room, and she cast one last longing glance behind her, wondering when she would get an opportunity to sleep in an actual bed again. With a sigh, she closed the door and allowed Rúmil to lead to breakfast.
 
~ * ~
 
There was a decided lack of pancakes, bacon, or coffee in the impressive larder before her, but Erin found she didn’t miss those things as much as she used to, although the coffee was debatable. She stifled her frown of dismay when she realized it had almost been a month since she’d had a double shot skinny white chocolate mocha, and she wondered if Middle Earth had anything resembling a coffee bean. 
 
I can’t believe its been almost a month, she thought, biting into the soft and fluffy roll that had been sweetened with dried fruit and drizzled in honey. When will I get home?
 
Elladan and Elrohir sat across from her, talking quietly with each other, their handsome faces serious as they discussed something in their musical language. Elrohir looked up as Melaphríl joined them, sliding next to Elrohir and giving him a warm smile.
 
Erin struggled to keep her mouth from opening in shock when Elrohir leaned over and kissed Melaphríl warmly on the cheek, before turning back to his brother. It had been a simple gesture of affection, but something about the way that Melaphríl leaned into the kiss made her wonder if the two were more than friends. She realized she was staring when Melaphríl's green eyes met hers and she dropped her gaze, her cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment.
 
She felt someone slide into the seat next to her and turned, smiling when she saw Orophin's grinning face. 
 
"Good morning," he greeted her, his leg nudging hers lightly as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "I missed saying goodbye to you last night. I hope Rúmil spoke eloquently on behalf of the both of us?”
 
She sputtered, nearly choking on her water and heard his soft chuckle as he reached for the plate of fruit in the center of the table. 
 
“Erin, if you are finished eating?” Haldir’s voice came from behind her and she turned. “The Lady has asked me to help prepare you for your journey.” He was dressed once more in the gray of the wardens, his quiver and bow strapped to his back.  He turned his gaze to his brothers, sitting on either side of Erin. “Rúmil, Orophin, I expect you both to be ready to leave shortly.” His lips thinned slightly in disapproval as he noted that Rúmil was still dressed in the clothing he had worn the night before. 
 
She rose from her seat, grabbing her pack and slinging it across her shoulders, falling in step beside Haldir as they left the dining hall.
 
“How soon are we leaving?” she asked the silent and handsome elf who walked beside her, glancing up at his profile.
 
“Within the hour. The Grey Company waits for their return just inside the borders of the wood,” he answered, taking a right turn on the wooden pathway.
 
“Will we be leaving immediately from there, do you think?” she asked, nearly running to keep up with his much longer strides.
 
He shrugged eloquently. “That is for Halbarad to decide.” They stopped at a door with a carving of a sword and a bow etched deeply into its surface, and Haldir opened it, ushering her inside.
 
Erin looked around in interest, dropping her pack to her feet. It was obviously an armory, for she could see countless bows and swords, arrows and quivers, neatly stacked against the walls or on tables, some hanging from beautifully carved holders on the wooden walls. Haldir brushed by her as he searched the room, picking up several short swords and knives, testing their weight carefully in his hands. He picked up a long, ivory handled knife, its blade nearly as long as Erin’s forearm and balanced it on his fingers, eyeing it carefully. With a nod, he turned and presented it hilt first to her.
 
“What is this?” she asked, taking the knife gingerly from him.
 
“A knife,” he said dryly, his lips curving into a brief smile.
 
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I know it’s a knife. I mean, is this for me?”
 
He nodded. “The Lady has given Elladan and Elrohir instructions that they are to teach you how to use it. You should not be defenseless against the dangers ahead. I can only agree.”  He moved to her side and well away from the sharp point of the knife she held uncertainly. “Grip it, feel the weight of it. It should rest comfortably and feel balanced in your hand.”
 
Erin curled her fingers around the smooth hilt, trying to accept the feel of the weapon in her hand. It felt foreign, and she had no idea if she was holding it correctly. Lean fingers covered hers for a moment as he adjusted her grip, positioning her thumb and locking it against her fingers.
 
He nodded and stepped back. “Try it,” he said. “See how it feels.”
 
She had no idea how to do what he said, but made an experimental thrusting movement with it, and was surprised at how light the blade was. She tried again, changing the angle of her strike against an invisible foe, and the blade gleamed brightly for a moment as the sunlight from the window struck the metal.
 
“I don’t know if I could actually use this,” she said, bringing her arm down carefully as she glanced at him. 
 
He raised both eyebrows at her. “You had better learn, lady,” he said, not unkindly. “For your own safety, as well as the safety of others.”
 
Erin shook her head, raising the blade to eye level. “I’ve never done anything violent in my life, Haldir. Until Helm’s Deep, I had never seen a dead person, much less someone who has died by violent means.”
 
Haldir dropped a hand to her shoulder and turned her slightly to look at him. “You will learn,” he said softly. “You do not have to like it, Erin, but you must learn. You cannot count on someone always being there to protect you.”
 
She swallowed and gave him a brief nod. “All right,” she said. “I know you’re right.”
 
He regarded her a moment longer, before turning away, reaching for the sheathe for the knife he had given her. He handed it to her and watched her slide the knife into the supple leather, noting the relived expression on her face when the knife was safely sheathed. She went to put it in her pack and he stopped her with a shake of his head. 
 
“No, you must wear it. A weapon does you no good if it is not within easy reach.”  He took the knife from her and showed her the straps on the back of the sheath that would allow her to attach it to a belt.
 
“I don’t have a belt,” she said, pulling her tunic up slightly to expose the waistline of her leggings. She turned to her pack, squatting down to rummage through it, pushing her neatly folded clothing aside to search the bottom. “Maybe Éowyn sent one with the clothing she gave me. I never looked. Oh!" she exclaimed, pulling the thin length of leather from the bottom of her pack. She held it up with a brief grin, before rising once more.  
 
Within moments, the knife hung at her side, its length pressing against her hip as she walked beside Haldir towards the stairs that led to the forest floor. It felt strange, the light weight of the weapon brushing against her leg as she walked, and she wondered if she would ever get used to it.
 
The others were waiting for them once they reached the bottom of the stairs, and she noticed that Rúmil had changed into the gray clothing of the wardens in their absence. Galadriel and Celeborn were also waiting, and the Lord and Lady greeted her as she came to a halt beside the twins.
 
"Farewell, Erin, strange traveler," Galadriel's soft velvety voice broke the silence first as she gave the young woman a small but warm smile. "I wish you safe journey."  She turned and gestured gracefully, and Lindel stepped forward, a small gray cloak in her arms. The she-elf offered the cloak to Erin, and helped her fasten the green, leaf-shaped pin at her neck. "This cloak may help to keep you safe from dangerous eyes."
 
Erin fingered the soft gray material, before smiling her gratitude at the Lady.
 
"Le hannon," she said, bowing slightly as she had seen the other elves do, touching her right hand over her heart. "Thank you, Lady, for all your help and guidance."
 
Galadriel's soft laugh was like silvery chimes. "You are most welcome, Erin. Remember what I have told you."
 
Celeborn added his farewells to his wife's, smiling gently at the young woman. "I only wish there had been time to ask you more about your world," he said regretfully. "I would have enjoyed hearing about it very much."
 
~ * ~
 
They moved swiftly through the trees, the two humans struggling to keep pace with the fleeter elves as they passed beneath the green and golden leaves, though the man did not have as much difficulty as the woman as he was more used to traveling than she. Following behind Orophin's gray clad form, Erin nearly stumbled over an exposed tree root, but was caught before she went sprawling by Melaphríl's quick reflexes. He gave her a quick grin once she recovered, and released his grip on her arm, sprinting easily ahead to catch up with Elrohir and his brother. She watched him run, envying the easy way he moved, wishing she had at least half his grace and speed.
 
"Do not worry, gwilwileth," Orophin had slowed his pace slightly and ran at her side. "We will be there soon."  
 
If I'd known I'd be spending so much time running, I would have taken track in high school instead of swimming, Erin groused inwardly. Orophin wasn't even winded, and she was gasping for breath like a fish out of water.
 
Fortunately, Orophin's words proved true, as the group came to a halt shortly thereafter, and Erin dropped to her knees gratefully, her side aching painfully as she drew great and heaving breaths into her oxygen starved lungs. A pair of black leather boots appeared at her knees and Erin raised her head, hearing her heart pounding against her chest.
 
Elladan looked down at her expressionlessly for a moment, before offering his hand to help her to her feet. "Halbarad says we will remain one more night here in the sanctuary of Lórien," he said, pulling her upright with ease. "So there is time for your first lesson with that," he pointed to the knife at her side.
 
"Can I catch my breath first?" she asked, and he laughed.
 
"Of course."  He gestured for her to follow him to where the main encampment was, and she fell in step beside him, her breathing slowing gradually to something more like normal for her. He gave her an amused look. "You will be relieved, no doubt, to know that the rest of our journey will be on horseback."
 
"If it's without saddles, then that's debatable," Erin retorted, sliding her pack from her shoulders and dropping it to the ground with a sigh. She looked at the party of elves and men with interest, and estimated that there were at least 40 of them in the group, the majority of them human. They were dressed in similar fashion to Halbarad, and they looked dangerous.
 
"Who are they?" she asked, glancing up at the dark-haired elf.
 
"They are the Dúnedain, rangers from the North," he replied, looking down at her with a brief smile. "My brother and I have had many journeys with them before." He looked at her appraisingly and his smile widened. "Have you 'caught' your breath?"
 
"Yes," she replied uneasily, wondering exactly what was in store for her.
 
"Good. Then it is time for your first lesson."
 
~ * ~
 
Erin blew her hair out of her face, blinking as she felt her eyes sting briefly from the sweat that dripped into them, but kept her gaze on her opponent, turning to keep him in her line of vision as he circled her, his lean body tensed and coiled like a spring. In her hand she clenched a stick that represented her knife. Wisely, neither Elladan nor Elrohir felt she was ready to practice with the actual blade. After nearly an hour of the exercise, she could only agree. She was dimly aware of the others who had gathered to watch; Haldir, Orophin, Rúmil, Melaphríl, Halbarad, and several others she did not know, stood well away from the glade where the twins had begun her instruction.
 
"Keep your guard up," Elladan called, watching his brother as he moved around the woman, mentally shaking his head with an inward sigh. The woman was tiring, he could tell, and he saw, despite his warning, she had dropped her guard.
 
Erin felt Elrohir hit her like sack of wet cement, knocking her stick from her hand and pinning her easily to the ground, the force of the impact knocking the breath out of her. His face was inches from hers.
 
"You dropped your guard again," he told her, holding her easily with his strength. "Think, lady. If I were truly your enemy, you would be dead by now, or worse."
 
She struggled against his hold, angered by the easy way in which he held her pinned and glared up at him. "I know that," she said through clenched teeth. "I'm trying."
 
He pulled her wrists together and held them both in the strong grip of one hand, stretching her arms painfully over her head as he gave her a mock-leer. "You are not trying hard enough," he answered sharply. "I could do anything to you right now and you would be helpless to stop me."
 
Orophin started forward with a frown, only to have Elladan stop him with a hand across his chest. "He will not hurt her," Elladan said softly, watching the woman struggle to free herself from his brother's grip. "He only wishes to drive the lesson home. We want Erin to understand how serious the situation truly is." His dark gray eyes met Orophin's angry one's unflinchingly. "Only then will she truly learn."
 
Erin blinked away the angry and frustrated tears that threatened to blur her vision and stared at the dark-haired elf above her. He pressed his lips against her neck and slid his other hand over her body with familiarity that made her gasp in outrage. Without thinking she arched her neck, hitting him squarely in the head with her own, the impact making her see stars.
 
Elrohir released her abruptly, sitting back on his heels, his hand covering the spot on his head where her skull had bruised his. "Very good," he said, wincing and rubbing the spot. "Inventive."  He inhaled sharply when he felt her stick poke the tender skin just above his tunic and met her glare.
 
"Don't you ever touch me like that again, Elrohir," she said, her breath coming in harsh gasps, pressing the stick a little more forcefully against his neck. "I mean it."
 
He raised his hands slowly and pushed the stick away from his neck. "I give you my word, lady. I apologize for taking liberties, however it had the intended affect."
 
Her eyes narrowed as he rose to his feet. "Yeah it did. You pissed me off."  She refused his offered hand and scrambled ungracefully to her feet, her chest heaving in her ire. 
 
Elrohir's lips twitched briefly and he inclined his head slightly. "Good."  He turned on his heel and left her, gaping at his retreating back. Feeling weary down to her toes, she sighed, wiping the sweat from her face with a grimace.
 
"If it makes you feel any better," an amused voice came from behind her and she jumped, biting back the irritated curse as she gave Elladan a glare for startling her. "Glorfindel did the same thing to Elrohir when he had him pinned, only Glorfindel was not nearly as...polite about it."
 
Erin stared at him a moment, then began to laugh. "I didn't need that image, thanks," she said, when her laughter tapered off. She turned to see Melaphríl drop a companionable arm across Elrohir's shoulders, and saw the dark-haired elf embrace him lightly in return. "If it had been anyone else," she said, turning to look back at Elladan. "I would have said he took advantage of the situation to feel me up."
 
Elladan chuckled, taking the stick from her and twirling it idly in his fingers. He gave her a brief grin before he turned, pausing to look over his shoulder. "I would not say that he did not," he said softly, before continuing towards the main encampment.
 
She followed his progress briefly, shaking her head and wincing at the painful throb in her skull from where it had met the unyielding surface of Elrohir's. It was going to be a long trip to Edoras. She just knew it.
 
~ * ~
 
"Will you tell us another story, Erin?" Orophin asked from his place, sprawled comfortably on the grass beside Rúmil. The fire cast shadows over their fair faces as they turned to look expectantly at her, and she silently considered herself blessed to have been given the opportunity to know them both. 
 
"Something a little happier this time, perhaps?" Haldir added from beside her, giving her one of his brief smiles. 
 
The rangers who were sitting close to them looked up in interest, their pipes and weapons maintenance forgotten as they waited for her reply, and Erin saw several of the elves from Mirkwood draw closer, settling their lithe forms with grace on the ground. She swallowed and smiled nervously at her sudden audience.
 
"All right," she said and took a deep breath. "Once upon a time," she began, "A long time ago, in a land that was green and beautiful, there was a king who had three sons. The oldest was named Blaewydd, and he was brave and strong, and no one could match his skill with the sword. The middle son was named Fíonn, and he was every bit as brave as Blaewydd, and none could match his skill in archery. The youngest son was named Corwyn, and while he had neither the strength nor skill of his brothers with weapons, he was remarkably clever."
 
It was a tale her mother had told her countless times, and it was one of her favorites as a child. She hid her smile as she watched the rapt attention on the faces of her audience, pulling them into the tale of the three brothers and how they faced the dangers that beset them at every turn. The fire had died down considerably when she finished, and she saw the faces of her listeners awaken slowly, as if from a dream. 
 
"But that cannot be the way the tale ends," Rúmil protested. "What happened to Corwyn? Did he find his true love? Did Blaewydd become king?"
 
"Do not forget about Fíonn," Orophin added, nudging his brother playfully with his elbow. "Did he return from his quest to find the magic bow?"
 
Erin laughed. "The story doesn't end there, but it’s all I can tell tonight." She reached for her waterskin and took a sip, easing her dry throat. "It would take several weeks to tell you all of their adventures."
 
"The elves of your story are quite different from us, yet in some ways, they are the same," Haldir commented, rising from his seat on a fallen log and stretching his lean frame. "Thank you for the tale, lady. The hour grows late, and you should get some rest."
 
"Aye," Elladan called from his place across from them. "We leave at dawn tomorrow."
 
Erin sighed and rose. She was more tired than she realized, thanks to her previous evening with Rúmil, and quite stiff from her lesson with the twins. She bid goodnight to her remaining companions, nearly stumbling across the ground as she made her way to where she had left her bedroll. It was set slightly apart from the others for privacy, although in the open, privacy was more of a consideration than anything else. She plopped down on the edge of the slippery nylon, reaching for the laces of her boots, when a shadow fell across her.
 
"Walk with me?" Orophin asked softly, crouching down to look at her, his gray blue eyes glinting with good humor and interest. "I want to show you something."
 
Erin gave him a weak smile. "I'm tired, Orophin," she replied. "I don't think I'm up for a walk right now."
 
He grinned. "Then I shall carry you."
 
"No, Orophin, I..." she gave a startled squeak when he lifted her easily into his arms, chuckling softly at her protests as he carried her to the edge of the glade. She sighed resignedly and smiled, leaning against his chest, enjoying the strength in his arms as he carried her past the trees.  
 
He came to a halt and gently set her on her feet, his arm still wrapped around her middle. "Look," he said, pointing, and she followed the direction of his gesture, a small gasp of delight escaping her.
 
The water of the river splashed against the rocks as it made its way through them, and the light of the full moon above them caused a glowing arc to appear where the water misted into the air. 
 
"A moon-bow," she said softly. "That's beautiful. I've never seen one before, though I've heard it happens."
 
"Only when the moon is full," Orophin said, his lips against her ear. "I thought you would like to see it."
 
The warmth of his breath against her ear sent shivers down her spine and she smiled. "Is that the only reason you brought me out here, Orophin?"
 
He laughed softly, and pressed his mouth against the curve of her ear. "No," he said, turning her in his arms to look down at her upturned face. "I wanted to say goodbye as well."
 
Erin gave him a tired and rueful smile. "I don't know if I've got enough energy to give you a proper goodbye," she replied, her breath catching when he bent his head and brushed his lips against hers. 
 
"Then I shall have energy enough for the both of us," he whispered, linking his fingers through hers. Tugging her hand lightly, he led her to a tree and turned her so that she leaned against it. He pulled at the lacings of her tunic and freed them, sliding his strong hands up the smooth flesh he had bared as his mouth claimed hers with hunger.
 
She sighed against his mouth as his hands covered her breasts, and he pulled back in surprise, his fingers sliding under the stretchy fabric of the undergarment she wore. "Why do you wear this thing?" he muttered against her neck, sliding his hands behind her back to find the fastenings. "It is in the way."  After a moment or two of fumbling, he felt the fastenings give and the garment loosened enough that he could push it up and out of his way. 
 
Erin's chuckle turned into a moan as his mouth found a taut nipple and drew it between his lips, his fingers mimicking the action of his tongue on the other breast. She felt the answering heat between her legs and moaned again, leaning weakly against the tree. His mouth left her breast and claimed her lips once more, swallowing her cries as his tongue teased hers. She felt him untie her belt and heard it hit the ground with a soft thump, his fingers already working at the lacings at the waist of her leggings. With several swift tugs, he had them loose enough that he could slide his hand past the waistband. She gasped as she felt his fingers stroke the soft curls between her legs, before sliding into her moist warmth. He swallowed the cries she made as she came, his lean fingers stroking her to completion as his mouth continued to plunder hers. 
 
She felt him draw back and watched breathless and trembling as he brought his fingers to his lips, licking her essence slowly from his glistening fingers. It was damned erotic, and she shivered at the heat in his eyes.
 
"You taste sweet, gwilwileth," he murmured, reaching for the waist of her leggings and drawing them over her hips in a quick movement that made her gasp. The cold night air kissed her thighs as he parted them, reaching for the ties of his own leggings with his free hand. He kissed the side of her neck, working his way slowly across her skin until he reached her mouth, sighing softly as he freed his throbbing length. "I want to bury myself in you," he told her softly, pushing her firmly against the tree and lifting one of her legs over his hip, his arousal poised at her entrance. He claimed her mouth once more and pushed himself into her body with a smooth and even thrust that stole her breath completely.
 
Her head fell back, resting against the smooth bark of the tree as he took her, filling her with his body, her soft moans muffled by his mouth as he moved against her. His hand squeezed her thigh as he thrust deeper, changing the angles of his thrusts until she was gasping, feeling the delicious pleasure build within her once more. 
 
He felt the muscles in her thigh quiver against his hand, sighing into her open mouth as she took him deeper, her heat stroking his length with each thrust. He released his hold on her mouth, gasping as he felt her tighten against him, the friction driving him steadily towards blissful completion. Her moans were low and continuous as he filled her, and his hand left her breast to cover her mouth, muffling the sounds of her passion with his fingers. He flexed his hips sharply, driving his length deep into her welcoming warmth and felt her shudder, crying out against his hand as her release claimed her, feeling her warmth squeeze his length with the intensity of it. With a soft and breathless moan he joined her, shuddering with pleasure as he felt his seed spill into her depths. 
 
For a moment, all that could be heard was the harsh and ragged sound of their breathing, before Orophin reluctantly pulled away, easing her leg from his hip as he kissed her softly. He wrapped his arms around her trembling form and held her close for a moment, pressing his lips against the top of her head before letting her go.  
 
She flushed slightly as she pulled her leggings over her hips, her trembling fingers fumbling the ties until he batted her hands away and did them for her. He watched her refasten her undergarment with a small shake of his head, and then helped her to lace her tunic, brushing her hair away from her face softly.
 
Erin leaned against him, feeling his strong arms enfold her protectively and smiled, enjoying his warmth and the scent that rose from his skin. “I’m going to miss you,” she said softly, her voice muffled against his chest.
 
She felt his fingers lift her chin and she looked up at him, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. 
 
"I shall miss you too, gwilwileth," he said softly, stroking her cheek softly with back of his hand. "Rúmil and I will both miss you. We want you to know something," he paused, and a brief smile crossed his features. "You will always have us as your friends if you need us. You need not ever be alone."
 
"My staunch and brave defenders," Erin managed a weak smile, wiping at the tears that had managed to escape with her fingers. "My enthusiastic and energetic lovers. I don't know what I'm going to do for fun without you both."
 
He chuckled softly, "Come, let us return to the camp. You deserve to get at least a little sleep before you face the dangers ahead."  He released her, and reached for her hand, enfolding it in his.
 
 If they passed any sentinels, Erin didn’t see any, though she was sure they were there, guarding the company’s sleep as they rested beneath the trees. Orophin lead her back to her bedroll and kissed her softly on the cheek.
 
“Good night, meldis,” he said softly. “Sleep well.”
 
She gave him a quick but tired grin. “Hannon chen, Orophin,” she said, pleased to hear herself say the beautiful Elvish words without stumbling over them. “You too,” she added. He chuckled quietly and moved away, and she curled herself into her sleeping bag, snuggling down deep into its warmth with a small sigh.
 
Moments later, she was fast asleep.
 
~ * ~
 
She was glad she had said her farewells to Rúmil and Orophin already, for they had left to return to the city along with Haldir, long before she woke. It was actually easier to leave this way, she thought, rolling her sleeping bag up carefully, glancing occasionally at the flurry of activity in the camp as the others prepared for their departure. She hated goodbyes with a passion, and she didn't want to disgrace herself in front of the others by bursting into tears. She zipped her pack closed and lifted it to her shoulders, sliding her arms through the straps and adjusting its weight slightly. 
 
Melaphríl passed her and handed her a familiar leaf wrapped package and she inwardly groaned as she unwrapped it. More Lembas. The stuff was tasty, but a steady diet of it became old very quickly. She quickly took a bite, washing the dry, flaky bread down with a sip of her water, before carefully rewrapping the remainder with the leaf, tucking it into one of the many side pockets of her pack. 
 
“Are you ready?” the green-eyed elf asked her and she nodded. “Come,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him. “Elladan has said you will ride with him.”
 
Erin frowned, jogging to catch up with the tall elf. “I don’t get my own horse?” she asked.
 
He shook his head, his silver blonde hair sliding forward with the movement, and he tucked it behind his ear with a gesture that spoke of familiarity. “We have none to spare at the moment.” He flashed her a quick grin. “Halbarad did not expect to return with more than Elrohir.  You will not be the only one riding pillion today,” he added. “For I would not be left behind either.”
 
Elladan nodded a polite greeting to her when they reached him, standing next to a tall and leggy looking bay horse. She saw, to her great dismay, that the horse wore no saddle.
 
He eyed her carefully for a moment. “Where is your knife, Erin?” he asked, his dark eyebrows rising slightly.
 
“In my pack,” she replied, feeling like an idiot. She slid the pack from her shoulders and fished it out, along with her belt and fastened it at her waist. Zipping her pack closed, she went to lift it to her back once more, only to have it taken by Elladan. 
 
“You cannot ride in front of me with that on your back,” he said, motioning to Emed, who took it from him. “Emed will carry it for you for now.”
 
“I could ride behind you,” Erin suggested, not certain she liked the idea of being separated from her only belongings in this world besides the clothes on her back.
 
Elladan shook his head. “Elrohir tells me you do not have much in the way of horsemanship. Until I am certain you can ride without falling off, you ride in front.”
 
He’s as bossy as Aragorn, Erin thought, her chin lifting slightly. “Fine,” she said, watching Emed bear her pack away. She placed her foot into his laced fingers and gripped the horse’s mane, pulling herself onto the bay’s broad back with his help. To her relief, the horse did not seem to have nearly as bony a spine as Mírhrod, and she settled herself over his withers the way Haldir had instructed her what seemed like ages ago.
 
Elladan gave her and approving nod and mounted fluidly behind her, his arm wrapping securely about her waist.
 
“Perhaps there is some hope for you yet,” he teased, turning the horse towards where Halbarad waited, Elrohir and Melaphríl sharing a horse next to him. She noticed, for the first time, that neither their horse nor Elrohir’s wore bridles. It made her more than a little nervous, and she gripped the horse’s mane tightly with both hands.
 
She didn’t hear Halbarad give any sort of command, but suddenly the entire company was on the move, their horses thundering over the grassy plain as they rode south towards the plains of Isen. The scenery flashed by them in a blur, and she forced herself to focus on staying balanced on the galloping horse, her fingers cramping from clutching at its mane.
 
“Relax,” Elladan’s voice came at her ear, tickling her with his breath. “I would not let you fall. If you remain this tense, you will be painfully sore when we stop this evening.”
 
She gritted her teeth, willing her body to relax as he told her, and found the task impossible. What she needed was some type of distraction.  “What is this horse’s name?” she asked, raising her voice slightly over the thunder of the horses hooves.
 
“Thalion,” Elrohir replied. “It means ‘Dauntless’.”
 
"How long will it take us to get to Edoras?" she asked, closing her eyes as Thalion leapt over a small bush and lurching forward with the movement, grateful that the elf was hanging onto her. 
 
"It will take us at least six days to reach the plains of Isen, and another two to reach Edoras," Elladan replied, settling her more firmly against him. The tension was gradually fading from her as she adjusted to the rhythm of the galloping horse, and her fingers were no longer knotted so tightly in Thalion's dark mane.
 
Erin fell silent for a moment, aware of his warm presence behind her as his body moved against hers with the rocking motion of the horse. It was pleasant, but not nearly as distracting as riding with Rúmil and Orophin, and she was actually relieved. She missed the brothers, their laughter and easy smiles, their enthusiasm and charming ways, and she felt a knot form in the back of her throat. 
 
They rode all day, and Erin felt the insides of her knees and thighs begin to chafe painfully by the time they called a halt, stopping near a winding and swift flowing river just as the sun began its descent into the west.  
 
Elladan dismounted easily and reached up to help her down, noting her wince of pain as he set her to her feet.
 
"Are you well?" he asked as she pulled the fabric of her leggings gingerly away from her skin. 
 
"Just sore. We didn't ride as hard when we left Helm's Deep." She looked up and gave him a pained smile. "I'll be fine."
 
Elrohir and Melaphríl joined them as Emed arrived to lead Thalion away with the other horses, dropping Erin's pack at her feet with a brief smile. 
 
"Thank you, Emed," she gave the young man a smile in return, startled to see how young he really was beneath the dirt and grime on his face. He looked like he was maybe only sixteen or seventeen years old - certainly not old enough in her mind to be riding with a party of battle seasoned men and elves. 
 
He touched his hand to his forehead and led Thalion off, slinging his arm across the tall bay's withers as he walked beside the animal. 
 
She glanced at Elladan. "He doesn't look old enough to be here," she said quietly. "Though I suppose the rules of age don't necessarily apply the same as they do in my world."
 
The dark-haired elf nodded. "His father is one of the Dúnedain. He lost his mother when he was very young, so Eras took care of him, and trained him to fight along side of him. Do not let his youth fool you; Emed has seen his fair share of skirmishes with Orcs and Wildmen alike."
 
Erin shook her head. "He would still be in school in my world." 
 
"School?" Elrohir said, tugging on his brother's braid lightly. "Only the well-born would still be in school at his age."
 
Elladan pulled his braid from his twin's hands with a mock frown. "Come, we need to settle the watches for the night." He turned to Erin. "Go find a place to stow your things, but make sure you are not too far from the others. Then come and find either myself or Elrohir. We have just enough time for a lesson before it is too dark."
 
~ * ~
 
In the four days she had ridden with Elladan, she had gotten to know the dark-haired elf much better, and her initial impression of him had improved somewhat. He was still bossy, but he no longer treated her as if she were an unwanted burden. She hoped that her progress with both her riding and knife wielding had something to do with it. While she wasn't anywhere near proficient in either skill, she no longer clutched the horse every time he twitched or jolted her, and she had actually managed to fend off  Elrohir’s attack the last time she had worked with the twins. 
 
She glanced at Elrohir, who was riding beside them, laughing at something Melaphríl was telling him, and shook her head. True to his word, he had not taken advantage of the opportunity to molest her whenever he managed to pin her, which was frequently. Against her will, she had to admit that his actions had served to bring home the reality of her situation more than anything else. And both he and his brother had been incredibly patient with their teachings, and generous with their praise when she did something right. She smiled when she remembered the look of surprise on Elrohir's face when she evaded his attack and turned on him, her stick at his unprotected back.
 
"Well done," Elladan had said with a laugh, pulling his brother to his feet. "Much better. Elrohir will not make the mistake of being so slow with you again."
 
"Slow?" she had replied, shaking her head. Both the twins moved faster than anyone she had ever seen. "I think I just got lucky."
 
Elrohir had nodded. "You would not stand much chance against an elf who was truly trying to defeat you, but against a man, you might do well enough. I admit I was trying to hold back a little, to give you a chance."
 
"Well, don't hold back next time," she had said seriously. "I can't learn to do this if you hold back." Her chin had lifted slightly.
 
Elladan had laughed. "Tomorrow night, Erin, I will test your words."
 
Erin sighed, and felt Elladan stiffen behind her.
 
"What is it?" she asked, feeling him turn to look at something to the west.
 
He shrugged, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spotted a strange cloud of dust on the horizon. “Wait a moment,” he told her, guiding their horse closer to Halbarad and Elrohir. “Look there, muindor,” he said, pointing. “What do you see?”
 
“Something comes this way,” Elrohir said shading his eyes with his hand and frowning. “’Tis to far away to make out whether it is friend or foe.”
 
"I see it as well," Melaphríl added from behind Elrohir. 
 
Halbarad cursed softly under his breath, looking in the direction the elves were gazing, finally seeing the rising cloud of dust. “How far are they?” he asked.
 
“An hour, no more,” Elrohir replied, glancing at Elladan. “Would you not agree?”
 
His twin nodded. “They are moving fast.”
 
The captain of the Dúnedain glanced ahead of them, and saw nothing but an empty stretch of plain with no possible place for refuge in sight. “Then let us hope they are friendly,” he said finally.

Chapter 12
"Riders approaching from the east," the horseman reported almost before he had finished rising from his bow to Théoden. "As we crossed the fords I thought I heard them. Now we are sure. They are overtaking us."
Théoden's expression hardened, and immediately called for a halt. The message spread through the Rohirrim quickly, and they took up their spears, turning their horses about to face the incoming danger.
Aragorn dismounted, setting Merry on the ground, and drew his sword, making his way to where Théoden sat on his horse, watching Éomer pass by as he rode for the end of the line. 
"Where should I be?" Merry asked, his small face pinched with apprehension as he watched the men prepare for possible attack.
"Stay by me," Aragorn told him. "Draw your sword and stay close." He gave the hobbit a brief smile of encouragement when Merry complied, taking his place next to the tall ranger.
It did not take long before he heard Éomer’s strong voice ring out.
“Halt! Halt! Who rides in Rohan?”
“Halbarad of the Dúnedain, Ranger of the North,” came the reply, and Aragorn’s eyes widened in surprise and joy, for that was the last reply he had expected. Handing his horse’s reins to Merry, he sprinted to the back of the line, passing by Legolas and Gimli and giving them both a cheering grin.
“We are seeking Aragorn, son of Arathorn,” Halbarad said to Éomer, his keen eyes catching sight of a familiar form dashing through the horsemen in front of him. “And it seems, at last, I have found him.” His handsome face broke into a great smile.
“Halbarad!” Aragorn called, coming to a halt beside the ranger’s horse and grinning up at him. “Of all joys, this is the least expected!”
“Well met, kinsman,” Halbarad replied, dismounting and embracing the other man warmly. “’Tis good to see you again.”
Aragorn stepped back from Halbarad, glancing up at Éomer. “All is well,” he said. “These are some of my own kin from the far land where I dwelt. But why they have come, and how many they may be, Halbarad shall tell us.”
Éomer gave a signal to the riders behind him, and their lances dropped, and he sent a messenger back to the front of the line to inform the King.
“I have forty with me,” Halbarad informed them. “That is all of our kindred that could be gathered in haste; but the brethren Elladan and Elrohir have ridden with us, and several elves from the woodland realm of Mirkwood.” The wind gusted briefly, blowing his long dark hair into his face, and he brushed it aside before continuing. “Another rides with them, from the golden wood of Lothlórien. Someone you have met before, Aragorn, for she marks you as friend.”
Aragorn’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Of whom do you speak?” he asked, lifting his gaze to search the riders behind his kinsman. He saw Elrohir with Melaphríl behind him, and his eyes widened slightly as he finally saw Elladan, and the passenger he carried before him. He looked back at Halbarad. “I did not think to see the Lady Erin again so soon,” he said finally.
Halbarad grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “The Lady Galadriel has sent her with us, for she must go to Edoras.” His smile faded as he continued, “We rode as swiftly as me could when your summons came.”
Aragorn frowned. “But I did not summon you, save only in wish. My thoughts have often turned to you and seldom more than today; yet I have sent no word.” He shook his head, his frown fading and a smile crossing his rugged features once more. “But come! These matters must wait. You find us riding in haste and danger. Ride with us now, if the king will give his leave.”
“I will,” Théoden said, guiding his horse beside Éomer’s to greet the newcomer. “It is well! If these kinsmen be in any way like to yourself, my lord Aragorn, their numbers shall be strength that cannot be counted.”
Aragorn inclined his head gracefully at Théoden’s compliment. “I would ride with my kinsman and my foster-brothers, by your leave,” he said. “For I would most like to hear the news they carry.”
“You do not need my leave to ride where you will, Aragorn, son of Arathorn,” Théoden replied with a smile. “Shall I send your squire with your horse?” 
The corner of Aragorn’s mouth twitched briefly as he held back his smile. “Aye, that would be well.”
The King nodded farewell to them both and rode back to the front of the line, Éomer following close behind him. 
“Squire?” Halbarad asked, glancing at Aragorn in surprise. “You have come up in this world, my kinsman.”
Aragorn laughed. “You will not think so, Halbarad, when you meet him. Though he is brave and true.”
Halbarad understood Aragorn’s words when he saw the small form leading the giant horse behind him, making his way through the riders with low mutterings.
“A hobbit?” the captain asked, turning to look at Aragorn in amused surprise. 
Nodding, Aragorn took the reins from Merry and introduced him.
“Meriadoc Brandybuck of the Shire, this is my kinsman and friend, Halbarad, captain of the Dúnedain.”
Merry looked up at the tall man and sketched a courtly bow. “’Tis indeed an honor sir to meet a kinsman and friend of Aragorn’s.”
Halbarad’s mouth twitched as he struggled to keep from smiling. Instead he bowed in return. “The honor is mine, small knight. Well met.”
Merry flushed with delight at being addressed as ‘knight’, resting his hand proudly on the pommel of his sword. His moment of dignity was lost, however, when Aragorn picked him up and placed him on the saddle of his horse, the ranger mounting behind him. His embarrassment was forgotten, however, as his keen eyes spotted Elladan and Elrohir, riding towards them. He had met the sons of Elrond before, during his brief stay in Imladris, but it was the passenger Elladan carried (at least he was pretty sure it was Elladan) that caught his attention.
“Who is she?” he asked, turning to look up at Aragorn with an awe struck face. 
“That, Merry, is the strange traveling woman we have told you about, the one we met on our way to rescue you and Pippin,” Aragorn replied, smiling at the immediate look of interest on the curious hobbit’s face. 
“She is lovely,” Merry replied. “If she were any shorter, and had hairy feet, she could pass for a hobbit!”
Aragorn chuckled, and leaned down so that the approaching party would not hear them. “I would keep that observation to myself, Master Hobbit,” he said quietly in Merry’s ear. 
Erin felt a smile break out across her face as she recognized Aragorn, sitting on his horse next to Halbarad and watching them approach. The small, curly haired figure in front of him could only be a hobbit, and his eyes were bright with such unconcealed curiosity that she chuckled.
When Elladan and Elrohir drew their horses to a halt next to Aragorn, they both greeted him in Elvish, and Erin was startled to hear him reply in kind, speaking as smoothly and easily as the twins in their native tongue. She heard Elladan say her name, and Aragorn’s attention rested briefly on her, his expression mixed between pleasure at seeing her again, and dismay that she was no longer in the safety of Lothlórien.
“My brother tells me that you are to journey to Edoras to meet the lady Éowyn?,” Aragorn asked. At her nod, he continued, “We are riding fast, lady. Your news will have to wait until we stop.” He glanced at Elrohir and Elladan, before turning his gaze to Halbarad. “A winged messenger was seen last night. Théoden fears it is following us.”
A signal went up from the front of the line, and within moments, the company was on the move once again. 
~ * ~
Aragorn rode between Elladan and Elrohir, telling them of the happenings since he had last seen them. Erin listened, a dreadful feeling in her stomach when he described the winged rider that had come the night before, after Pippin had used something he called a Palantír. 
“Gandalf thinks that Sauron believes that it is Pippin who holds the ring, and sent his servant to find him. He took him to Minas Tirith, in hopes that he will be safe there, and to consult with the Steward of Gondor.”
“Do you think the Steward will heed Mithrandir’s words?” Elladan asked.
Aragorn dropped his head for a moment before replying. “I can only hope so.”
They rode until well past dark, and Erin found it difficult to keep her eyes open, even while clutching the mane of their galloping horse. After the third or fourth time her head lolled back and rested against Elladan’s chest, she heard the elf chuckle softly.
“Rest, Erin, for we will not be stopping this night anytime soon. Sleep while you can.” His arm tightened slightly around her middle, bringing her back to rest against his taller form. “I will not let you fall.”
She stifled a yawn, closing her eyes. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, elf,” she replied, wishing it was Orophin or Rúmil’s arms who held her so securely. In her mind she pictured their faces; Rúmil’s gentle teasing and sweet smiles, Orophin’s easy laughter and generous warmth. I miss them, she thought, wishing for a moment she could bury her face into the warm and strong chest behind her and cry. I miss their friendship more than anything. The sex between them had nothing short of phenomenal in her mind, but she found she missed their trusting companionship even more; the security she had felt when she was with them.
A gentle hand stroked her hair with soft and even movements, and she felt Elladan’s embrace tighten for just a moment.
“They are missing your friendship as well,” Elladan’s voice came quietly at her ear.
Erin opened her eyes, watching the stars overhead as they galloped on in the darkness. “How did you know I was thinking about them?” He had not stopped stroking her hair, and she found it comforting, like being a child once more in her father’s arms as he soothed her scrapes and sorrows.
“My brother and I share a bit of the Lady’s gift,” he answered softly. “It was not difficult to feel your sadness.”
She stiffened slightly, pulling away from him. “You can read my mind?” she asked, not liking that at all. 
Elladan shook his head, the wind of their passing lifting his dark hair like a sable cloak, streaming behind him. “I cannot read your mind at will, lady, nor would I normally invade your privacy in that way.” He pulled her stiffened body back against him and tried to soothe her once more. “It is only that you are very tired, and your emotions are on the surface, easily read.”
She allowed herself to be settled against him, her mind thinking over his earlier words.
“Do you really think they are missing me?” she asked hesitantly, half-hopefully, closing her eyes when she felt him stroke her hair again. It was very nice, and she found she didn’t mind.
“Hmm,” he replied, watching Melaphríl struggle to stay awake against his brother’s strong back. “More than they should, perhaps,” he murmured.
“I miss their company,” she replied, fighting to keep her eyes open. “I miss their teasing.”
“Of course. They were your friends,” came the soft reply. “Now go to sleep.” He whispered three words in Elvish in her ear, and Erin found herself doing exactly that.
~ * ~
Their horses had no more to give this night, and so Théoden brought the party to a halt next to the shelter of the southern tip of Fangorn. He did not like being still so close to Isengard, despite the destruction of Saruman’s army and machines, but there was no hope for it. The horses would go no further, and he was far too good a horseman to push them beyond their strength. He could see exhaustion on the faces of his men as well, and felt his own weariness deep within his bones. Even with Gandalf’s miraculous healing, he was still nowhere near his former strength, no matter how well he hid it from others, and the past few weeks had also taken their toll on him. He wondered, with no small amount of bitterness, if he would live to see the end of this war.
His thoughts made him search for Éomer, his sister’s son. The man was loyal beyond reproof, and brave as well. Like his uncle, the Third Marshall had within him the very strength that made a good leader, and Théoden saw how his men followed him, trusting and loyal. Éomer would make a fine king, one day, Théoden realized without regret, feeling his bitterness fade with the thought. So long as he knew his people would be safe under his nephew’s leadership, Théoden found he did not mind the thoughts of his own passing as much.
Théoden’s eyes turned once more to search for the other member of their party who would one day hold the mantle of King, and saw Aragorn riding towards him, his handsome face mirroring Théoden’s own weariness. 
“It is well you have stopped,” Aragorn said, sliding easily from the back of his horse, lifting the small form of Merry from its back and setting the sleepy hobbit on his feet. “All save the elves are sleeping in their saddles, and even their energy is not limitless.”
Théoden nodded, handing his reins to the young groom who led the stallion and Aragorn’s mount away, stripping his gloves off and tucking them in his belt. He gestured for Aragorn to accompany him and the ranger fell in step beside him, still leading the half-asleep hobbit. He glanced up at the shadowed forms of the trees that loomed over them, shaking his head slightly. Until he had seen the Ents, he had not truly believed the legends about Fangorn; he would never have considered resting beneath their cover. Now, he knew, his men had nothing to fear from the trees, despite their fearsome appearance. So long as no man laid an axe to them, they would be safe. 
Aragorn followed the King, resisting the urge to pick up the stumbling Merry and carry him over his shoulder, and admired the way Théoden went out of his way to check on his men, making sure they were settled for the night. He saw a familiar blonde head and equally familiar stocky figure moving beside him, and smiled, bidding good night to the King as he made his way to them.
“Legolas, Gimli,” Aragorn said, reaching up to clasp the tall elf’s shoulder briefly. “Have you settled for the night?”
“Over there,” the elf pointed, and Aragorn saw their belongings resting against the trunk of a gnarled tree. “We would go with you to greet the sons of Elrond and meet with Erin once again.” 
“Aye,” Gimli added, leaning on his axe and looking briefly at the swaying form of Merry with a snort. “How is the lass?”
Aragorn scooped Merry up in his arms, chuckling as the small form went limp, immediately asleep. “Like this one, I fear, the lady is long past being awake.”
They followed him to where their belongings lay, and watched the usually stern Ranger tuck the small form beneath the blankets with a tender expression. He turned his head to smile briefly up at them as he arranged Merry’s form so that it was completely covered in the warmth of the bedding. “He will be most upset that he did not get to greet her yet,” he chuckled softly. “For he peppered me with so many questions about her, I am afraid he is already quite enamored of the lady.”
Gimli’s soft laugh was echoed by Legolas as Aragorn stood, turning away from the sleeping hobbit. The corner of the Ranger’s mouth twitched briefly as he added, “He finds her short stature interesting.”
“Oh dear,” Gimli chortled, following his companions away from Merry’s resting place. “Should we warn the lass?”
Aragorn shrugged, weaving his way through the bodies of the resting Rohirrim and making his way towards where he knew Elladan, Elrohir, and Halbarad were. He saw Elrohir reach up towards his brother, and take the sleeping form of Erin carefully in his arms so his brother could dismount without disturbing her. A dark haired youth led their horses away, but not before Halbarad retrieved something from his saddle, carrying it carefully against his chest. 
“Where should I put her?” Elrohir was asking his brother as the others arrived.
“Put her next to Merry,” Legolas said, his dark eyes twinkling in mischief as he greeted the twins, his hand touching his heart as he inclined his head gracefully.
Two sets of dark brows rose in question at Legolas’ light remark and Elladan turned to Aragorn. 
The ranger scowled at his playful friend and hid his smile. “I think it would be better for Erin not to meet the hobbit under such circumstances.”
Melaphríl returned at that moment and gestured towards the shelter of the trees. “I have laid her bedroll there, meldir,” he said quietly, blinking sleepily at Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn. “Shall I take her?”
A very unladylike snore came from Erin’s open mouth as she snuggled against Elrohir’s chest, sliding deeper into her sleep.
The dark haired elf shook his head and grinned briefly. “She will bring a party of orcs upon us with such noise.”
“She does not snore with the strength of Gimli here,” Legolas laughed. “So perhaps tonight we will be safe from attack.”
The dwarf gave his fair friend a mock scowl, his expression softening slightly as he looked at Erin’s sleeping face. She looked like a child, resting peacefully in the elf’s arms. 
Elrohir shook his head and moved easily away from the others, depositing the sleeping woman onto her bedroll carefully, so as not to awaken her. He frowned for a moment, watching her curl onto her side and shiver as the night air hit her, and realized he should have put her inside the bedroll, instead of on top of it. With a shrug, he undid his cloak and twirled it from his shoulders, dropping it gently over her small form, tucking it around her shoulders. Satisfied that she would be warm enough, he turned and retraced his steps to where the others were waiting.
Elladan was explaining to Aragorn his grandmother’s instructions regarding the girl, and the ranger was shaking his head, obviously not liking it any more than he or his brother had. 
“This is no place for a woman like her to be,” Aragorn muttered, glancing up as he saw Elrohir return. “I normally would not question the Lady’s words, but this seems too dangerous to be anything but folly.”
Elrohir draped a companionable arm across Melaphríl’s shoulders and gave his friend a light squeeze, before looking back at Aragorn. “I think you will find that the woman is not as helpless as she seems, muindor,” he said softly, hearing his brother echo his sentiment.
“Aye,” Elladan added. “She has changed much since you saw her last. And we have been teaching her to fight so she can defend herself.”
Aragorn snorted, glancing at Gimli and Legolas. “I do not know whether to pity Erin or not, that she should have the two of you instructing her.”
Elladan laughed, clasping Aragorn’s shoulder lightly. “You will see, muindor.”
Their laughter faded as Halbarad approached, and he handed Aragorn the small bundle of cloth he had retrieved from his saddle. 
“I have a message for you from the lady of Rivendell,” he said quietly, his voice dropping low. “She has said I must tell you this: the days now are short. Either our hope cometh, or all hopes end. Therefore I send thee what I have made for thee. Fare well, Elfstone.”
Aragorn gently fingered the dark fabric, before clutching it to his chest. “Now I know what you bear,” he said finally, his voice hushed. He handed it back to Halbarad, his fingers lingering on the fabric. “Bear it still for me a while.”
Halbarad nodded, tucking the folded cloth into his tunic. “I bear a message from the Lady of the Golden Wood as well.” The dark ranger’s eyes lifted to his and Halbarad continued, “The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead.”
Aragorn’s face paled, and he dropped his head once more. “Always my days have seemed to me too short to achieve my desire,” he answered softly, his voice barely audible. He lifted his head and frowned, his eyes glittering in the darkness. “But great indeed will be my haste ere I take that road.” 
Elrohir stepped away from Melaphríl and embraced Aragorn lightly. “That will soon be seen,” he said in Elvish. “But let us speak no more of these things upon this night.”
~ * ~
An unearthly shriek woke her from her sleep, and she clutched at her cloak that covered her, terror numbing her mind. She heard it again and scrambled to her feet, glancing up at the dark sky, and nearly screamed when a strong hand grabbed her, another covering her mouth.
“Hush!” Elladan’s voice whispered in her ear. “Come.”
Erin stumbled, following him in the darkness as he pulled her into the shelter of the trees, where she could barely make out the forms of some of their companions. He took his hand from her mouth but gave her a warning look, telling her without words to remain silent. She heard the shriek again and shivered, terror washing over her in waves. 
A dark shape covered the moon for a moment, and Erin saw for the first time what had made that awful and inhuman sound. A winged monster, blacker than the shadows, hovered above where they had been sleeping only moments before, and upon its back was an equally black rider. She shook violently as she heard it give its horrible scream again.
She turned to flee, and felt a pair of arms enfold her; she did not know whose, and she didn’t care as she pressed her face against his broad chest, hiding her face from that awful vision. His scent was vaguely familiar, tickling a memory in the back of her mind that wouldn’t emerge. She found she could only be grateful for the strength in the arms that held her, preventing her from tearing away and running, screaming into the trees to get away from the horror that flew above them. 
She heard the familiar twang of a bowstring as an arrow was released, and looked up, shuddering as the creature gave an unearthly wail and fell from the sky, carrying its rider with it to the ground, where it landed with an audible splash. Gasping, she pressed her face once more against her protector’s chest, and heard him whisper softly.
“Hush, it is gone. They cannot abide water.” 
“Éomer?” she whispered shakily, recognizing his voice. “What was that thing?” 
“ A winged shadow,” he answered softly. “Ringwraith.” He stroked her back reassuringly. “The elf Legolas shot it down.”
She hated the fear that made her shake almost violently in his arms. “I want to go home,” she whispered, struggling not to cry. “I want to go home.”
“Shh,” he told her, uncertain what else he could say that would comfort her. “You are safe. I will let nothing harm you.” The trembling woman he held in his arms was a far cry from the young woman who had returned his kisses so boldly at Helm’s Deep, but he found himself repeating his words and meaning them with more feeling than he had intended. “I will let nothing harm you.”
She felt his large hands stroke her hair as he murmured soft words of reassurance in his own language, calming the tremors from her gradually until finally, they subsided. 
“Are you well, lady?” he asked her quietly, releasing her small form with surprising reluctance when he felt her no longer quaking like a newborn foal against his chest.
Erin could not see his face in the darkened gloom of the forest, and something within her made her reach up to touch his cheek, feeling the softness of his beard beneath her fingers.
“Thank you,” she managed, dropping her hand away and flushing slightly, glad he couldn’t see her embarrassed surprise at her gesture. “I’m okay now.”
His cheek tingled where her fingers had touched his face, and he resisted the urge to grab her hand and place her fingers there again, to see if the sensation would be repeated. Instead, he folded her hand against his arm, smiling down at her smaller form in the darkness. 
“Come,” he said softly. “The danger has passed for the moment, and your companions, no doubt, will be worried about you.”
She followed him as pulled her out of the shadows into the light of the moon.
~ * ~
Something was shaking her lightly awake, and Erin opened her eyes reluctantly, peering upwards in the dim light of the early dawn.
Legolas smiled down at her and was startled by her squeal of surprise, and felt his breath being squeezed out of his lungs by the force of her unexpected and warm hug.
“Hello, mellonen,” he said when he could breathe again, touched by her greeting. He pulled back and looked down at her, smiling in amusement.
Erin smiled impishly at him, glad to see her friend. “Hello, meldir,” she replied, grinning when she saw the brief look of startled surprise on his face. 
He raised a dark eyebrow at the playful expression on her face. “Pedich i lam edhellen?” he asked with a soft laugh at her expression of confusion.
“I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded lovely,” Erin replied, shaking her head. “It is good to see you again.”
Legolas rose, offering his hand and pulling her easily to her feet. “I asked if you spoke elvish, for it seems you may have learned a word or two while you tarried in Lothlórien.”
She pulled her hand away, dropping to her knees to roll her sleeping bag up. “You could say I learned a phrase or two,” she said mischievously. 
The fair elf laughed lightly. “In Orophin and Rúmil’s fine company, I am not surprised.” He saw her cheeks flush slightly at his words and his eyebrow rose in surprise as she studiously avoided his gaze. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” she lied, rising to her feet once more, her sleeping bag tucked under her arm. “Where is everyone?”
“Halbarad and Aragorn have ridden ahead. Elladan and Elrohir are eating with Gimli and Melaphríl, and Merry still sleeps, although I expect his stomach will awaken him soon.”
“Hmm,” Erin replied, taking his offered arm and glancing up at the beautiful elf beside her with a brief smile. “I’m hungry as well. The last time we ate was sometime yesterday morning.”
Legolas’ dark eyes glinted in amusement. “We had best hurry, then, before the hobbit wakes, or there will be nothing left.”
Erin laughed quietly, noting that the others of the party were stirring as they made their way past them. “Do they really eat that much?”
“Left to their own devices, they will,” Legolas replied with a shake of his head. “I do not know how Lord Elrond managed to keep his larder stocked with four of them staying under his roof.”
“He sent to the villages for emergency food supplies,” Elladan replied, having overheard Legolas’ remark as they approached. “And it was a near thing at that.”
“Why else do you suppose our father convened the council so quickly?” Elrohir added, finishing the last of his apple and tossing the core behind him. “And did not object to their leaving with the Fellowship?”
Gimli chuckled at the twins’ comments, glancing up at Erin and giving her a welcoming grin. “Good morning, lassie,” he said, offering her a seat next to him on the fallen log. 
“Gimli,” Erin exclaimed, hugging the dwarf warmly, and smiling at his pleased grumbles. “It is good to see you again.”
“Oh, go on,” he said, pushing her away gently, hoping the elves didn’t see how pleased her gesture had made him. “What are you doing with these two so far from the safety of Lothlórien?” he asked when she had seated herself beside him.
Erin took the apple Elladan offered her with thanks, biting into it and feeling the juice run down her chin. She wiped her mouth with her fingers and swallowed before answering him. “Apparently I’m to go to Edoras and see Éowyn,” she said. “I guess its part of my purpose for being here.”
Gimli scowled, glancing at Elladan and Elrohir. “And you agreed to take her along with you? Where is your sense?”
Elrohir frowned. “We have already heard from Estel about why we should not have brought Erin along with us, and I will tell you what I told him: I would like to see you refuse the Lady Galadriel when she has her mind set on something.”
Gimli coughed, looking away, and Erin grinned, remembering Orophin and Rúmil’s tales of how the dwarf had initially mistrusted the Lady, and had fallen under her spell of gentle beauty. 
“Besides,” Elladan added, giving Erin an approving look. “She is no longer as helpless as she was when you first met her.” He rose to his feet, taking the apple core nimbly from Erin’s fingers and tossing it where his brother’s lay. “Shall we show them?”
Erin swallowed, feeling slightly nervous about practicing her skills in front of Legolas and Gimli, though it had not bothered her to do so in front of Haldir and his brothers. “I don’t know,” she began uncertainly.
“Come,” Elrohir said, rising also. “You did not practice last night. We would not have your newly found skills growing lax.” He grinned challengingly at her, and Erin found herself rising to his bait.
“Do we have enough time for me to rub your pretty nose in the dirt?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him as he handed her stick to her. As if I actually could, she thought with an inward grin.
Elrohir laughed. “It would take far too long an age for that, berenen,” he said, ducking when she poked at him with her stick.
“No calling me names unless I know what they mean,” she retorted, following the brothers away from the main encampment to a clearing next to the trees. She was dimly aware of Legolas and Gimli following them, but focused her attention on the lesson ahead. She could not afford to be distracted by her friends, and she definitely did not want to be humiliated in front of them.
Closing out all distractions, Erin took a deep breath and assumed the stance that Elladan and Elrohir had patiently taught her, her ‘knife’ held easily in her right hand. Elrohir took his customary position across from her and the two circled one another, each searching for an opening in the other’s defenses.
“Keep your guard up,” Elladan called, watching Erin and his brother move warily, silently approving of her protective stance. 
“I think it is your pretty nose that will be rubbed in the dirt,” Elrohir taunted, trying to get past her defenses by baiting her. She responded with a laugh and uttered a phrase that neither elf had taught her.
“Mîbo orch!” she replied, silently thanking Rúmil for teaching her that one. He had used it on Orophin and she had asked him what it meant, and had him repeat it several times until she learned it. After all, she had thought at the time, it might be useful to know how to curse someone in Elvish.
Elladan stifled a laugh at his brother’s startled expression and silently approved when Erin took advantage of his momentary distraction to make her move. Of course, her speed was no match for Elrohir’s, and instead of taking his brother’s legs out from under him as she had no doubt intended, her attack met with only empty air.
Elrohir turned and pounced, nearly getting kicked in the face as he took her down with his attack. His ‘weapon’ was poised at her throat, but his smile faded when he felt something poke him none-too-gently in the ribs.
“Gotcha,” Erin said, smiling up at him.
He chuckled, moving off of her with fluid grace. “I think you got lucky that time.”
She nodded. “I know I did.” She accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “But I’m getting better, aren’t I?”
He gave her an approving smile. “Yes, you are.” He shook his head with a light laugh. “Mîbo orch?” he asked, raising a dark eyebrow. “Where did you learn that one?”
She snorted, twirling her stick. “Where do you think?”
“What did she say?” Gimli looked at the chuckling elf beside him, wanting to understand the joke.
“She told him to ‘go kiss an orc’,” Legolas laughed, shaking his head.
“Not all is fair in Lothlórien if she is learning such language from the elves,” Gimli snorted. He had been silently surprised at how well the lass had done against Elrohir. No longer did she move so clumsily, as if uncertain how to place her limbs. Though she lacked the fluid style of the elves, she seemed to have learned some of their grace.
“I seem to recall that the dwarves have a similar phrase or two in their tongue,” Legolas replied, watching the opponents circle each other once more. He too had been surprised at the change he saw in Erin. Gone was the sad woman who grieved for her loss of home. He saw how much lighter her spirit was, and was gladdened by it, though he wondered what had been the cause of the change.
Gimli chuckled at his friend’s comment, his dark eyes gleaming beneath their bushy brows. “I shall have to teach her some of the more inventive curses,” he said, following the progress of the young woman and dark haired elf.
“What is going on?” a small voice piped from beside them, and Legolas glanced down, smiling at Merry, who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Did I miss breakfast?”
“No, my small friend,” Legolas answered with a grin. “You did…” his answer was interrupted by an outraged cry and he looked up.
“Get off me!” Erin said, trying to reach her stick with no success, Elrohir’s weight pinning her to the ground.
“You were distracted,” Elrohir told her, poking her lightly in the ribs. “And you let your guard down again.” He poked her again, and she emitted a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “How will you learn,” he poked her again, “If you let yourself be distracted?” This time he did get a laugh from her as she tried to squirm away from his finger. 
“Stop,” she laughed. “That tickles.”
“Only if,” and he poked her several times, eliciting more helpless laughter, “you promise me not to let yourself be distracted. I will not have it.”
“Ag!” she pushed ineffectually against his chest, trying to get him away from her. “Okay! Okay! I promise!”
Elladan crossed his arms, looking in amusement as his brother proceeded to tickle Erin further. 
“Elrohir, please,” Erin laughed breathlessly, still struggling to free herself from his ticklish onslaught. “I can’t breathe!”
“Is this some new form of interrogation?” Aragorn’s voice came dryly from behind them. “Or is this how the elves of Imladris subdue their foes?”
“You should know better than that, muindor,” Elrohir grinned up at him, ceasing his torment of Erin for the moment and allowing her to catch her breath. “I believe Elladan and myself have had you at our mercy this way more than once.”
Aragorn’s expression lightened briefly. “Aye, too well I remember it. Now, I think the lady has had enough?”
Elrohir obligingly allowed Erin up, pulling her easily to her feet and making a show of brushing the grass from her tunic until she glared at him. She poked him in the chest lightly, tilting her head so she could look at him.
“At least you didn’t cop a feel this time,” she snorted. “Although I don’t know which is worse.”
He grinned cheekily at her, which made her roll her eyes. 
“What is ‘cop a feel?’” Merry queried, glancing up at Legolas with a confused look.
Legolas shook his head. “I do not know, but I do not think it is something good.”
“I’ve had enough of these two,” Erin said with a mock glower at the twins. “Legolas, Gimli, would you be so kind as to keep me company for a while?” 
“Do not go far,” Aragorn said. “We will be leaving soon.” He glanced at Elladan and Elrohir, and something in his expression made them lose their cheerful expressions. “I need to speak with you both,” Aragorn said softly in Elvish.
“Come, Merry,” Gimli said, dropping his hand lightly to the hobbit’s shoulder. “Let us keep Erin company for a bit.”
“But what about breakfast?”
The dwarf’s deep laugh rolled through the trees. “Aye, lad. We will get you some breakfast.”
~ * ~
“Good morning, Melaphríl,” Erin said, spotting the fair haired elf as he brushed the horse that he and Elrohir shared, noting that their supplies were already neatly packed and ready to go. “Are there any apples left?” she asked. “Merry has not had breakfast.”
“Apples?” Merry asked, his small face brightening. “What else?”
Erin laughed, taking the apple that Melaphríl handed her. “Hannon chen,” she said, passing it along to Merry. “I don’t know. We no doubt have some Lembas as well.”
Merry’s face fell slightly, but he managed a smile. “Lembas is good,” he said, taking an enthusiastic bite from his apple, before plopping comfortably on the grass. 
Without a word, the Lórien elf handed her a folded leaf, although his green eyes twinkled with humor. She thanked him again, before passing the Lembas to Merry. 
Gimli settled his substantial bulk next to the smaller form of the hobbit, bringing one of his axes out to sharpen it as his friend ate. Legolas found a comfortable perch on a nearby rock, folding his arms around his knees, tilting his head slightly as he watched the sky above them lighten with the rising sun.
“Is there anything I can help with, Melaphríl?” Erin asked hopefully, wanting something useful to do.
The elf considered her question a moment, before nodding. “Thalion needs a good grooming as well, if you are up to it.”
Erin shrugged. “I’ve never groomed a horse before, but I’m willing to learn.”
Melaphríl gave her a smile, and she suddenly understood why Elrohir might possibly like the fair elf as more than a friend. He was beautiful when he smiled, and his green eyes fairly sparkled with good humor. He raised his head and gave a shrill whistle, and moments later, Thalion appeared, his ears pricked up in interest as the horse spotted the elf.
“That’s handy,” Erin commented, taking the brush from Melaphríl and running it lightly over Thalion’s dark coat. 
“Use firmer strokes,” the Lórien elf instructed, taking the brush from her and demonstrating briefly. “Let him know you are there. Lighter strokes are ticklish.”
She nodded, taking the brush back from him and using it the way he had shown her. Thalion seemed to enjoy the attention, leaning into her strokes as she brushed his coat. When she had finished, the elf showed her how to check his feet for stones or other obstructions, explaining that a stone could bruise the sole of the horse, causing him to go lame. As she used the tool he had given her to clean the debris from Thalion’s hoofs, she glanced up at him.
“Tell me something,” she asked, gripping Thalion’s foot between her knees like he had shown her. “Why were you and Elrohir laughing at me the other day, before we reached Lothlórien?”
“We were not laughing at you,” Melaphríl countered, avoiding her gaze as he picked an invisible blade of grass from his horse’s mane. 
Erin snorted, dropping Thanlion’s hoof and reaching for the next, sliding her hand down his leg until she reached his ankle, smiling her success as the horse obligingly lifted his foot. I’m getting the hang of this horsey stuff, she thought. “Then what were you laughing at?” she asked, determined not to be put off again.
His silence made her look up. “What?” she asked, puzzled by his expression.
He shook his head. “Elves have very good hearing,” he replied finally, looking meaningfully at her.
It took her several moments to get it. When she did, she felt her cheeks blush scarlet. “Oh,” she said faintly, quickly returning to her work.
Legolas raised an eyebrow at the exchange, wondering what it was in Melaphríl’s reply that had embarrassed her. He glanced at Gimli and Merry, but neither seemed to be paying much attention. He rose gracefully to his feet, curiosity getting the better of him, and walked to where Erin was, watching her reach for the last hoof with growing confidence. He patted Thalion’s soft nose, scratching the horse between the ears, and waited for her to finish.
Erin was aware of Legolas’ presence on the other side of the horse, and hoped her cheeks had returned to their normal color as she rose, giving him a brief smile, before patting the horse firmly on the neck. “There, that should do it.”
“What was that all about?” he asked, glancing briefly at Melaphríl, watching the other elf lead the two horses back to where the others were grazing.
Erin shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing.”
Legolas crossed his arms, shifting his weight slightly as he eyed her. “I do not believe you, mellon. Twice this day you have been embarrassed over this ‘nothing’. Will you tell me?”
She shook her head. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
He frowned. “Are you unhappy?” he asked. “Have Elladan and Elrohir done something to upset you?”
Erin looked up at him and chuckled. “No, Legolas, though Elrohir has certainly pushed the boundaries from time to time.” She shook her head again. “I’m not unhappy. I just wish that some things were different.”
Her reply confused him. “You wish you were not here?” he asked finally. 
She gave him a brief smile. “No, and yes.” Erin laughed at his puzzled expression. “Did that clear it up?” She looped her arm companionably through his and looked up at him. “Don’t worry, Legolas,” she said with forced lightness. “I’m fine.”
Merry gave a rather impressive belch, startling them both into laughter. 
“Did you get enough to eat?” Erin asked, moving away from Legolas to sit next to Merry, curling her arms around her knees.
The hobbit patted his stomach and gave her a nod, looking up at her with a grin. 
“If you were just a bit shorter and had hairy feet, you would make a lovely hobbit,” he said with all seriousness. “Are you married?”
“I’m taken,” Erin answered, struggling to keep a straight face. “Sorry.” 
Merry’s face fell comically, before he grinned good-naturedly at her. “Got any sisters?” 

Chapter 13
 
Aragorn returned to find them laughing, and his grim expression lightened somewhat. He glanced at the twins, who raised their eyebrows in mirrored looks of amusement, and he shook his head.
 
“No, Merry,” Erin was laughing. “I don’t have any sisters.” She looked up and saw Aragorn approaching, followed by Elladan and Elrohir, and got to her feet, brushing the grass from her leggings.
 
“Pity,” the hobbit said with a sigh. 
 
Aragorn stopped at Merry’s feet, giving the hobbit a bemused look.
 
“How far are we from Edoras?” Erin asked, noting that the others of the company were already in preparation to leave. She could hear the jingling of bridles and harness, the sound of weapons being sheathed as they were checked, the low murmur of conversation among the riders as they quickly mounted their steeds. 
 
“A good day’s ride and more,” the Ranger replied. “Scouts saw sign of a party of orcs to west.”
 
“Orcs?” Erin said with trepidation. “Will we try to avoid them?” I hope, she added silently.
 
Aragorn shook his head. “Théoden does not want them roaming free across his land, and I do not wish to have them join their strength to Sauron’s.  We cannot leave them to wreak what havoc they will on the farmlands of Rohan. They must be stopped.”
 
Erin nodded, her stomach sinking. “I understand,” she said, trying to swallow her fear. “I’ll try to stay out of the way.” She heard Elladan laugh behind her and she turned to watch him approach, leading their horse behind him. Elrohir and Melaphríl followed closely.
 
“You will stay here, with Merry,” Elladan said, springing easily onto the stallion’s back. “Melaphríl will remain behind to guard you as well, in case there is trouble.” 
 
“Take me with you,” Merry insisted, his hand on the pommel of his sword. “I can fight.”
 
Aragorn did not smile, but dropped down to his knees, his hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “I need you to stay here and help protect Erin, in case something happens. I need to know she is well protected.”
 
“Aye, laddie,” Gimli added, giving the hobbit a smile behind his bushy beard. “Keep her safe now.”
 
Merry’s chest puffed slightly and he nodded. “Oh. Of course.” Aragorn clapped him on the shoulder and rose. Legolas and Gimli rose as well, and the elf stopped in front of Erin for a moment, looking down at her.
 
“I would very much like to hear who it is that has taken your heart,” he said finally as she fidgeted under his keen gaze. “But it will wait until we return.”  He gave her a brief smile, before turning to follow Aragorn and Gimli toward their horses.
 
She shook her head as she watched him walk away, barely disturbing the grass with his passage. There was no way she was going to confide the personal details of her life with him; it was bad enough knowing that most of the elves that had left Helm’s Deep knew, apparently, what had occurred between herself, Rúmil and Orophin.  
 
Erin turned and saw Elrohir embrace Melaphríl lightly, before mounting his horse. Neither elf said a word, but the look that passed between them spoke volumes, and she looked away, not wanting to spy on what seemed to be a very personal moment.
 
The blonde elf came to stand next to Erin, leaning on his bow as they watched the men of Rohan and the riders of the Grey Company depart.  She glanced at him and saw his eyes were fixed on Elrohir’s retreating form.
 
“I’m sorry you had to stay here and protect me,” she said quietly, feeling badly for him. “I know you’d rather be going with them.”
 
Melaphríl gave her a quick look and then smiled. “I do not mind, lady. It is not the first time we have been parted thus.”  He shrugged eloquently, moving away to kick dirt over the smoldering coals of their campfire. 
 
Merry sighed, plopping down on the grass once more and looking up at them. “Do we have anything else to eat?”
 
Chuckling, Erin shook her head. “All our food went that way,” she replied, pointing in the direction the riders went. “Unless Melaphríl has some Lembas stashed somewhere, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until they return.”
 
“Oh,” the hobbit said, and heaved another sigh. “Well now what do we do?”
 
“We wait,” Melaphríl replied, glancing up at them, his green eyes glinting in humor. The fire was out finally to his satisfaction, and he leaned against the rock behind him, his bow resting carefully and within arms reach at his side. 
 
Erin sat next to Merry on the grass and looked up at the sky a moment, noting the gathering of clouds above them.  “Looks like it’s going to rain,” she commented. 
 
The elf glanced up and nodded. “Yes.”
 
“That’ll be fun,” she said with dry amusement. “Can’t wait to ride soaking wet in the cold rain.”
 
Merry snorted, his fingers carefully weaving three strands of tall grass together. 
 
Erin drummed her fingers against the grass and looked at the sky again. And waited.
 
~ * ~
 
Théoden led his men towards where the orcs had been spotted last, his face grim beneath his helmet, his ears filled with the roaring thunder of the Rohirrim. A cloud of dust told of their passage, but he was not worried. He had no doubts that the orcs already knew they were coming. 
 
They crested the rise of the hill above where the orcs should be, feeling the adrenaline surge in his veins as he lifted his sword in challenge. The foul creatures below them roared in return, and he heard the voices of his men take up their cry.
 
“Forth Éorlingas!”
 
They swept down the hill and met the oncoming charge of the enemy, their cries mixing with the howls and roars as weapons clashed, each side eager to spill the other’s blood.  Bows sang out and struck their targets, bringing swift death to their enemy. Swords flashed brightly as they cut their way through the flesh of their foes, their brightness darkened by the black blood that flowed from the foul creatures they fought. Again and again, Théoden heard his men give their cry, and heard the cries given by the men and elves of the Grey Company as they sought to destroy the evil before them. The enemy’s numbers were many, but they were no match for the forces that sought to destroy them utterly. 
 
Éomer saw a warg rider charge the King, and spurred his horse forward, his sword already in motion as he decapitated the rider in a swift blow. The warg did not stop its charge, however, and he saw the King’s horse, Snowmane, go down under its attack. He spun; sword raised to defend the fallen King, and heard the familiar sound of bows. Arrows pierced the side of the warg and it fell before it could reach Théoden. Éomer turned to see Elladan and Elrohir, their bows already notched again, and gave them a swift nod in thanks. Quickly he dismounted and knelt beside the King, and was relieved to see the blue eyes open.
 
He grasped Théoden’s arm and helped him to his feet. “Are you hurt?” he shouted above the din of the battle, and the King shook his head. Snowmane stumbled to his feet, and Éomer was relieved to see that the horse still lived, though he was obviously injured and favoring his left forefoot.
 
“Éomer!” Aragorn’s voice carried above the noise and the man lifted his head, searching for the ranger. He spotted the man riding hard, his sword swinging as he slew an orc that was closing in on them with murderous intent. Aragorn rode to a halt and slid quickly off his horse, his expression concerned. 
 
“Legolas said at least three warg riders escaped, that way,” he pointed in the direction they had come. “Your men know these lands far better and are faster riders. Will you go after them? I fear Merry and Melaphríl will not be enough to stop them should they find them.”
 
Éomer glanced at the king, worried at the pain and weariness he saw on Théoden’s face. “I will take three men with me and ride after them. We will catch them,” he said, his face hardening. 
 
“Go, and return quickly,” Théoden said, leaning heavily on Aragorn as the man helped him mount Arod. “This battle goes well, but it is not yet finished.”  He took his sword from Éomer, giving his sister’s son a brief smile. “Good hunting.”
 
Aragorn nodded and turned, moving swiftly to intercept another orc before it could reach the King, his sword flashing in the sun as he cut it down.
 
Éomer bowed slightly and mounted his horse. Turning the animal, he gave a sharp, piercing whistle. Those that heard his call and were not currently engaged with fighting rode to his side. 
 
“Hedrig, Gamling, Halig, ride with me.”  He set his heels to his horse, and the others followed, leaving the battle behind them.
 
~ * ~
 
Melaphríl rose from his spot on the rock, his head lifted as his keen eyes searched the grassy plains around them, his senses searching for whatever it was that had brought him out of his thoughts. He had not heard anything, and he could see nothing, but he did not ignore the feeling of danger creeping along his spine.  He lifted his quiver and settled it on his back, and reached for his bow, his green eyes still searching the plains. It was coming from the east.
 
“Something wrong?” Erin asked quietly and with rising alarm as she took note of his actions. 
 
“Something is coming this way,” the elf answered softly, without looking at her. “I think you and Merry should head for the trees.”
 
Merry rose to his feet, quicker than she would have thought, and took her hand, tugging her after him. Melaphríl followed slowly, never taking his eyes from the east, where he could feel the danger approaching.  He notched an arrow when they reached the edge of the wood, making sure Erin and Merry were behind him, and waited.
 
Erin fingered the handle of her knife and took a deep breath, drawing it from its sheath and holding it the way she had been taught. Merry had drawn his sword and held it in front of him, his small face pale and anxious as they watched the direction the elf was looking. They heard them only moments before they saw them, and Erin nearly screamed when the warg riders appeared.
 
Melaphríl’s bow sang out as he fired at the leading rider, striking the beast between its eyes. The warg fell, throwing its rider to the ground, its legs still twitching in its death throes. His hands moved of their own accord, automatically reaching for another arrow and he fired it smoothly, striking the second warg just as it passed the first, sending its rider sprawling into the grass as well. He took a breath, another arrow already in place as the third warg topped the hill.
 
Merry saw one of the fallen orcs rise, shaking his head groggily for a moment, before spotting them by the trees, a scowl of fury on his ugly face. Melaphríl’s attention was focused on the third warg, and he did not see the second rider rise also.  With a fierce cry, Merry raised his sword and charged forward. 
 
The third warg went down and the elf quickly trained another arrow on its rider, who had stumbled to his feet and was lurching in their direction. He shot swiftly, taking the orc down, and turned, hearing Merry’s cry. The hobbit was foolishly and bravely charging two orcs, his small sword raised in defiance. He trained his bow on the nearest one, when a fourth warg charged over the hill and directly at him.  
 
Erin’s knees turned to water as she saw the huge wolf-like animal charge at them. Melaphríl’s arrows struck it, but the animal swung its head and knocked him sideways into a rock, howling in pain before it fell. She screamed when the rider got off its dying mount and kicked the fallen elf, raising his nasty looking weapon to finish the job. Without thinking she charged forward, her knife raised to kill.  The orc turned from the elf and met her charge with a  surprised look that quickly turned to an anticipatory leer.
 
“Melaphríl!” she shouted, trying to raise the stunned elf, ducking the vicious swing the orc took at her with his weapon. She rolled out of the way, fear giving her speed, and crouched, her knife raised defensively before her. The orc circled her, sneering at her, licking his crude lips.  She dimly heard Merry struggling with another orc, but didn’t dare look away from her opponent. Silently she prayed for Melaphríl to get up. 
 
The orc moved and she dodged again, barely missing his reaching grasp as she spun away, her knife meeting only air. She heard a low, guttural sound escape his lips and realized he was laughing at her. 
 
A sharp cry of pain stole her attention for a moment and she saw Merry fall, blood pouring from his head. That was all the opening her opponent needed. 
 
Pain exploded in her ribs when he struck her, knocking the breath completely out of her as his weight drove her to the ground. A slimy and incredibly strong hand gripped the wrist of the hand that held her knife, and it squeezed slowly, grinding the small bones beneath his grip until her nerveless fingers could no longer hold the knife.  
 
He grinned down at her, licking his lips again, and a new thrill of terror raced through her as she realized he was looking at her like she was something to eat. She struggled beneath him, arching her neck to head-butt him as she had done Elrohir, only with as much force as she could put into the blow. Their skulls cracked together sharply, and she saw him recoil. The look on his face would have been comical, if it hadn’t been for the very real danger of her position, and she wasn’t given any chance to enjoy it as he struck her with his fist across her face.  She literally saw stars for a moment as her vision blacked, and she fought not to pass out from the blow. 
 
His fingers gripped her throat, his long nails digging into the flesh of her neck, and he drew his blade slowly down the side of her face, savoring the taste of her fear as his tongue flickered out to taste the blood that ran down her cheek. She screamed, and his laughter was cut off abruptly as he stiffened above her, a thin line of blood trailing from his mouth before he collapsed on top of her, pinning her to the ground with his dead weight.
 
With breathless sobs, she pushed at his body, trying to get the foul thing off of her before she started screaming again, and felt its weight being lifted away. She cringed, fingers searching for her fallen knife and finding it as she tried to see the face of the shadow that loomed over her. 
 
“Erin!”
 
Oh my god!
 
“Éomer?”  She took a deep shuddering breath, and another, and another. His arms reached out to enfold her against him, and she lost it completely. Her knife fell limply from her hands as she clung to him, burying her face against his chest. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she heard herself saying, over and over, her breathing coming in short hitching gasps.
 
“Hush, it is over,” he said, stroking her hair, her back, rocking her gently. “It is over now.”  
 
Shuddering, tasting bile in the back of her throat, Erin pushed away from him and turned, losing the contents of her stomach on the grass in painful, wrenching heaves. She felt his hand on the small of her back but didn’t look up. She didn’t dare until she was sure she wasn’t going to be sick again.
 
Éomer waited, his hand resting on her back, and he felt her shudder again.
 
“Merry,” she croaked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 
 
“He is wounded, but he will live,” Éomer answered her softly, watching her struggle not to be sick again. “He managed to kill one of them before the other wounded him.”
 
“Melaphríl?”  Her voice trembled.
 
“Stunned, but not hurt,” he replied, stroking her back gently. 
 
“How?” One-word sentences seemed to be all she could manage.
 
“Aragorn sent us. The orcs were seen headed this way.”  He saw her lift her head slowly, and when she turned to look at him, her face was pale, a thin line of blood running down the side of her cheek where the orc had cut her, and he saw several puncture wounds on her neck that were bleeding as well.  Her dark eyes held a bruised look that made him wish he could kill the orc that had done this to her over again. “I am sorry we did not arrive sooner, lady,” he said softly.
 
Her lips trembled in a weak ghost of a smile. “Me too.”  And to her complete horror, she began to cry.  Harsh, deep wracking sobs escaped her, and when he pulled her into his arms once more, she did not resist. 
 
Éomer settled her into his lap, folding his arms around her small form as she cried against his chest, the sound muffled as she poured out her grief and terror. He rocked her again, murmuring soft words under his breath, trying to take her pain and fear away. He felt her tears dampen his skin as he tucked her head beneath his chin, wishing there was a way he could take the last five minutes of her life away from her. 
 
The others left the comforting of the small woman to him as they dragged the corpses of the orcs and wargs away from the trees, piling their bodies a good distance from where they were. The elf was working on the hobbit, ignoring the light bleeding from the wound on his head where it had struck the rock, concentrating his attention on the wounds of his companion. 
 
Erin sniffled, raising her head and wiping her face with her hand, gasping in pain as her fingers touched the cut on her cheek. He pushed her hand away gently and examined her face, turning her head slightly towards the light of the sun.
 
“It is not too deep, lady,” he said finally. “I do not think it will scar if it is treated.”  His fingers lightly touched the wounds on her neck, and she shivered at the sensation. “These should heal as well, so long as they are cleaned.”
 
She didn’t even want to think of the germs and bacteria the orc may have carried on its claw like nails, nor what other disgusting things that may have been on its blade. She didn’t think this world had anything remotely resembling antibiotics.  It would be just my luck to survive an orc attack, only to die from the infection, she thought half-hysterically.  Pushing those thoughts aside, Erin became aware that his touch had lingered on her neck, and she looked up at him in surprise.
 
Éomer blinked, his blue eyes coming to focus, and he dropped his hand away as a shadow fell across them.
 
“I am glad to see you well, Erin,” Melaphríl said softly. “I did not think to see Elladan and Elrohir’s lessons put to the test so soon.”
 
Erin looked up at the tall elf and gave him a weak and trembling smile. “Elrohir would have been disappointed in me,” she said, pointing to her cheek. “I got distracted and dropped my guard.”  
 
Melaphríl crouched next to her, his fingers doing a cursory examination of the wounds on her neck. Erin was conscious that she was still practically sitting in Éomer’s lap, and of his arms around her as the elf examined her, and felt a confusing rush of warmth as she realized how close the rider’s face was to hers. When Melaphríl turned her head so he could see the one on her face, she could feel the warmth of Éomer’s breath against the other side of her face.
 
“Elrohir should be able to help heal these,” the elf said finally, rising to his feet gracefully. “They should not scar.”
 
“How is Merry?” she asked, pushing away from the comforting strength of Éomer’s arms to stand somewhat shakily next to the tall elf.  It took her three tries to sheathe her knife.
 
“He will live, though he is lucky to do so,” Melaphríl replied with a brief smile. “Go and see him, he is worried about you.”
 
Éomer rose next to her, and gripped her arm lightly above the elbow, guiding her beside the elf as they made there way to where the hobbit lay.
 
Merry’s head was bandaged, and he looked even smaller than before, lying on the grass with his cloak cushioning his head. The hobbit gave her a relieved smile when he saw her, and she found herself echoing it. 
 
“What happened?” Erin asked, dropping to her knees beside Merry and looking up at Melaphríl.
 
“He took a blow to the head,” Melaphríl answered, shaking his fair head slowly. “How he managed to survive it is beyond me.”
 
Merry grinned weakly up at the elf. “Hobbits have hard heads.”
 
“Aye, and thick skulls,” Melaphríl replied easily, helping him to sit up. 
 
“Can you ride?” Éomer asked them both, seeing Hedrig, Halig, and Gamling returning from their disposal of the orc and warg bodies.
 
“Aye,” Merry answered, gaining his feet a little unsteadily. 
 
Éomer nodded. “Then let us leave this place and join the others.”
 
Erin rose with Melaphríl steadying her, and she gave the elf a grateful look. “You were amazing, you know,” she said softly. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
 
A small but pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you. I am only sorry that I did not get them all,” he said with honest regret.
 
Éomer whistled for their horses, lifting Erin easily to his own horse’s back before mounting behind her. He turned, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her, and saw that the others had mounted as well, with the elf behind Halig, and the hobbit in front of Gamling. With a final glance at the forest behind them, he turned the horse once more and headed west.
 
Erin clutched at the saddle, grateful for its presence to steady her. She was aware of Éomer behind her, his thighs pressing against her backside with the rocking rhythm of the horse’s gait, his arm holding her securely against him. Part of her brain struggled to ignore the pleasure in the closeness of his body, the scent that rose from him, the warmth of his arm against her, just beneath her breasts. Her wrist and ribs ached from the attack, and her face and neck burned from the wounds. But her pain lessened with the embarrassing warmth that filled her, and she was grateful he could not see her face.  
 
He felt her tremble against him as they reached the top of the hill, and the smell of burning bodies hit them with full force.
 
“Éomer, let me off now,” she said, covering her mouth and struggling to get off before the horse had even stopped. Without asking why, he stopped his horse, and lifted her from the saddle.
 
Erin dropped to her knees, feeling bile rise in her throat once more as she struggled to give into her stomach’s will, feeling her ribs ache with the effort.  She took deep breaths, in through her mouth, out through her nose, willing her stomach to behave. She heard the sounds of other horses approaching, but did not look up until she felt a hand touch her shoulder.
 
“Here, this will help,” Elrohir said softly. He held out a small handful of what looked like some type of herb.
 
With shaking fingers, Erin took the small bits of green leaf from him and eyed them questioningly.
 
“Chew them,” he told her. “Hurry. It will settle your stomach.”
 
Without needing to be told twice, Erin placed the leaves on her tongue and chewed, surprised at the immediate burst of familiar flavor that spread quickly through her mouth.  It was peppermint.  She chewed the leaves, swallowing the juices that formed, until it was gone. To her surprise, her stomach stopped its churning, and her head felt clearer.
 
“Better?” he asked softly, reaching for the small bag that held his healing supplies.
 
She nodded, swallowing the last of the peppermint leaves. She watched him dampen a small, clean cloth with water and flinched when he touched her face with it, biting her lip as he cleaned the cut.  As soon as he finished, he repeated the process with the five, small puncture wounds on her neck.
 
Elrohir examined the wounds on her face and neck carefully and was relieved to see they were not serious. She had been fortunate indeed that Éomer had arrived when he had; from what the man had told him, the orc had been ready to kill her. From the hunted look in her eyes, she was very well aware of how close a call it had been. He dropped the damp cloth on top of his bag.
 
Erin watched with curiosity as he opened a small jar of some type of ointment, dabbing the creamy white substance onto his fingers. He reached for her face again and she pulled back.
 
“What is that?”
 
“It will help the cut heal without scarring,” he replied, reaching with his other hand to hold her face still. “It will also help to speed the healing process.”  Holding her face with his opposite hand, he lightly dabbed the ointment on the long cut that ran from just beneath her eye to the edge of her jaw.  He saw her blink in surprise and smiled faintly. “It has a numbing property to it, which will help with the pain.”  Satisfied that the long and ugly cut was tended, he gathered another small amount of ointment on his fingers and did the same with the wounds on her neck. 
 
Erin gave a small sigh of relief as she felt the burning pain fade. She watched Elrohir wipe his fingers on the cloth, before placing the ointment in his bag. He turned to look back at her, frowning when he saw the bruises that had already formed on her small wrist. 
 
“I don’t think it’s broken,” she said, gasping slightly when he took her hand and gently probed the bones of her wrist with his fingers. It hurt, but she could still move it. 
 
“It is not,” he agreed. “Though it will feel very stiff and sore in the morning.” He dropped her hand carefully back onto her lap and looked at her. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
 
“Just bruised ribs,” she answered. “I’m fine,” she protested, when he reached for the edge of her tunic. “I just got knocked down.”
 
“I am a healer, Erin,” Elrohir told her sharply, tugging the edge of the tunic out of her hands when she tried to pull it back down. “Let me see.”  He batted her hands away and lifted the ends of her tunic carefully, just high enough to expose her ribcage.  He sucked in his breath when he saw the yellowish mottling on her fair skin, tell-tale markings of darker bruising to come. “Take a deep breath,” he said, laying his fingers across the bones and pressing gently. He felt her ribcage expand and contract normally beneath his hands, and she gave no visual signs of distress.  “Again,” he said, and examined the other side, pressing with his hands, and this time she winced.  He dropped the ends of her tunic and watched her tug it back in place, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. 
 
“Your ribs are bruised,” he agreed. “Possibly cracked. I want to check you again in a few days. If they are cracked, your discomfort will not decrease. Tell me if you experience any severe pain or difficulty breathing.”
 
She nodded, and watched him rise gracefully to his feet. 
 
“I have others I must tend to now,” he said softly. “Stay here.”
 
“Thank you, Elrohir,” she replied, struggling not to cry again as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. “I’m sorry I didn’t do better.”
 
“You did well enough,” he told her honestly. “You kept yourself alive until Éomer came. Neither Elladan nor myself expected you to be able to do more than that.”
 
She nodded, watching him move away to tend to Merry, and lay down on the grass, staring up at the sky, watching the rain clouds gather overhead.
 
~ * ~
 
The sky opened up on them shortly afterwards, rain falling in cold sheets that quickly soaked everyone to the skin. Erin shivered, wrapping her arms around her knees and drawing them close to her body for warmth, hissing slightly as her ribs protested against the movement. Merry sat next to her, mimicking her position, as they watched the men and elves finish disposing of the bodies of their enemies. 
 
It did not take long before her teeth were chattering, and she felt Merry shiver beside her.
 
“Merry,” she said, lifting her arm up, and he scooted next to her to share her warmth with his. She wrapped her arm around his small shoulders, not minding the musty smell that rose from his wet clothes, fairly certain she smelled just the same. That’s one thing they never bothered to mention in the little bit I read in the first book, she thought, feeling a little warmer with the hobbit next to her. How nobody gets to bathe very often on these treks. 
 
“I think I’d kill for a bath, right about now,” she said with a sigh, wiping the water that dripped from her hair out of her eyes. “A nice hot bubble bath and a cup of tea.”
 
“I would settle for the tea and my pipe,” Merry replied, pulling his cloak tighter around him. “Though I do have my pipe, it is far too wet to smoke it.”  He echoed her sigh, his small face turning up to look at her. “Would you really kill for a bath?”
 
“It’s an expression, Merry,” she replied with a small smile. “It means I really, really want one.”
 
“Ah,” he replied, nodding. “You did not strike me as the bloodthirsty lot.”  His eyes twinkled mischievously as he burrowed closer to her warmth, his cheek resting inches from the curve of her breast. “What does ‘cop a feel’ mean?”
 
Erin’s lips twitched briefly. “It’s dangerously close to what you’re thinking, Merry,” she replied, feeling his small hand resting on her stomach. “Behave yourself or you’re on your own.”
 
The hobbit smiled sweetly at her, but his hand roamed no further. “I would never think of doing such a thing,” he protested, his eyes wide, but the expression in them was playful.
 
“I’m glad to hear it,” Erin replied with a short laugh, wincing as the movement pulled at the cut on her face. The reminder of her ordeal sobered her quickly, and she huddled next to Merry, her chin on her knees. I got damned lucky, she thought, trying to keep from shaking, though she could always blame it on the cold. That orc had my number.  If it hadn’t been for Éomer… She refused to think about it. Instead, she watched the others finish their work.
 
 ~ * ~
 
Aragorn stood next to Halbarad and watched the bodies burn, the black smoke curling upwards, carried by the wind to the cloud cast sky above them, the rain making hissing sounds as it hit the flames. 
 
“How many were lost?” Aragorn asked quietly, turning to look at his kinsman.
 
Halbarad shook his head. “Not as many as I originally feared. The men of Rohan were hit hardest, twelve in all. We lost five of our company, including one of the elves from Mirkwood.”
 
Aragorn nodded; he already knew about Calen’s death, having seen the young elf fall beneath the weight of a warg. “Legolas is with his brother, offering what comfort he can,” he said softly, his expression grave. “I am sorry to hear about Emed.”
 
The captain’s eyes were dark with grief, and he accepted the comforting touch of Aragorn’s hand on his shoulder. “He fought bravely, as befitting a ranger,” Halbarad replied simply, having no other words to express his sorrow at having lost the youngest member of their company.
 
Aragorn nodded, dropping his hand away as he saw Théoden and Éomer approach the small hill they were standing upon. 
 
“We will move on,” Théoden said without preamble. “The healers have said the wounded may travel, and I do not wish to linger any longer in this place. Edoras and my hall await us, with what comforts it can provide.”
 
“What of the dead, my Lord?” Halbarad asked.
 
Théoden’s blue eyes expressed his sorrow. “We must leave them, captain, for time is of utmost concern, and we do not have the means in which to carry them.”
 
Halbarad nodded and bowed respectfully, turning on his heel to gather his lieutenants, his gray cloak fluttering behind him. 
 
Théoden turned to Éomer. “Gather the horses of the fallen, and ready the men to ride,” he said grimly. “I wish to see the gates of Edoras this night.”
 
Aragorn frowned. “Can we push that hard with the wounded?” he asked, hearing Éomer’s piercing whistle as he called his horse to him, the rider leaping nimbly upon its back. 
 
The King of Rohan nodded. “We will, for I do not wish to meet any more of the enemy until all of our riders have been mustered. Only then will be truly prepared to defend our homes against the evil that threatens it.”
 
~ * ~
 
The rain had let up a little by the time Elladan and Aragorn came for them, and Erin rose to her feet, feeling cold and miserable. Elladan slid from his horse’s back and shook his head at her.
 
“Foolish woman, where is your cloak?” he teased, lifting her carefully, mindful of her injuries, and placing her gently on Thalion’s back. 
 
“Forgot to pack it,” she snapped irritably. “It wasn’t on my camping list, among other things. If I’d known I was going on the extended trek across the great wilderness, I’d have planned better.” She gave the elf a scowl, which deepened when he had the audacity to laugh. 
 
Aragorn’s lips twitched as he hid his smile, lifting Merry onto Arod’s back. That was the Erin he’d come to know. After seeing Merry settled, he reached into one of the saddlebags and searched through it a moment, before pulling out another cloak, which he wordlessly handed to her.  It was one of his older ones, worn through in many spots and patched in others, but it would serve, and he could tell as she wrapped it around her shoulders that she was grateful for its additional protection and warmth.
 
“Thank you, Aragorn,” she said, giving him a small smile. She stiffened slightly when Elladan mounted behind her, his arm sliding around her middle, but relaxed when she realized he was careful to avoid putting pressure on her bruised ribs.  He tucked the ends of the cloak around her, forming a cocoon of warmth, before turning the horse to follow Aragorn’s.
 
Within moments, the Rohirrim and the Grey Company rode out, leaving the charred remains of their enemies behind them, their own dead burning in a smaller pyre, well away from the still smoldering orc and warg bodies..  
 
~ * ~
 
Erin was not awake to see the gates of Edoras as the call went out from the guards that the King had returned. Elladan had put her to sleep shortly after the sun had set; he could feel the weariness and pain emanating from her, growing worse with each league they crossed. It had seemed the best course of action to say the words that would put her into a deep sleep, to temporarily relieve her of her pain in that fashion. He did not know that she dreamed of dark and terrible things, until she began to mutter in her sleep.
 
“No, don’t. You’re supposed to.”  She gave a low, frightened moan, and stiffened in his arms, and he nearly lost his hold on her as the sudden movement took him by surprise.
 
“Erin,” he called her name, shaking her lightly to bring her awake. 
 
“You can’t go,” she cried, slumping completely against him, shaking her head. “That’s not the path.”
 
The others rode past him as he brought Thalion to a stop, shaking her again with growing concern. Her face was pale and sweating, and her eyes had opened, but they looked at him without seeing him. “Erin!”
 
She looked straight at him, and her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Aragorn must take that path. Not you.”
 
His heart felt like it had stopped a moment at her words, and he turned her, gripping her arms.  “What do you mean?” he asked, and saw her blink, her eyes slowly coming to focus on him.
 
“What?” she asked, watching the others ride past them with confusion. “Where are we?”
 
Elladan sighed, feeling his heart begin to resume a more normal pace. “We are in Edoras. You were dreaming, and talking in your sleep.” He looked at her, his expression serious. “Do you remember what you were dreaming?”
 
Erin’s brow furrowed briefly in thought, before she shook her head. “No. What did I say?”
 
He regarded her a moment longer, before turning her forward, cueing Thalion into a slow walk, rejoining the others as they made their way into the city of Edoras. “You said ‘Aragorn must take that path, not you’,” he replied quietly. Her words had unnerved him more than he wanted to admit; as far as he knew, Erin knew nothing of Aragorn’s indecision over whether or not he would take the Paths of the Dead. “Does that mean anything to you?”
 
“No,” Erin replied uneasily. “Should it?”
 
Elladan’s dark gray eyes rested briefly on his foster-brother riding ahead of them, his tall form swaying slightly in the saddle as he rode beside Halbarad and Elrohir. “I do not know, lady,” he said finally.  “Perhaps it means nothing at all.”  She had been looking directly at him when she said ‘not you’, but her eyes had not been focused on him at all. 
 
~ * ~
 
Éowyn hurried down the stone steps, pulling her cloak around her shoulders as she reached the great doors of the hall. 
 
“Brother!” she cried, and felt herself being swept up into Éomer’s embrace, his beard tickling her as he placed kisses on her cheeks. He set her down and she reached up, holding his face as she smiled at him.  “My heart is glad to see you again.”
 
“Mine as well,” he replied, looking at her with joy and warmth. He took her hands in his and held them briefly, squeezing them affectionately before releasing them. “Always it is a joy to return. How fare you, dear sister?”
 
“I am well, now that you have returned,” she replied, her expression turning to one of concern as she looked at him closely, seeing the tell tale marks of blood and battle. “What happened?” she asked, her blue eyes flying to his.
 
“We met with a party of orcs to the west,” he replied easily. “They were destroyed to the last.”
 
She nodded, and watched as others began to trickle into the hall in groups of twos and threes. “Where our uncle?” she asked. “Where is the King?”
 
“Here, my dear Éowyn,” Théoden replied, accepting her warm embrace with one of his own. “All is well?” he asked, when she released him.
 
“Yes, my Lord,” she replied. “The city has filled with riders who have come to answer your call.”
 
He nodded, and gave her a brief smile. “You have done well, my niece. Though I did not expect any less.”
 
She started to reply, but her attention was taken by the entrance of one who had occupied too much of her thoughts of late.  The tall and handsome ranger entered the hall, and his eyes met hers briefly across the distance.  She gave him a shy smile of welcome, and he nodded, touching his brow lightly with his fingers, before turning to speak to his companions.
 
“Lord Aragorn has returned with us, joined by his kinsman and company,” Éomer said quietly, noting the direction of her gaze. “There is another with them that I think you will be pleased to see.”
 
Éowyn turned to look at him, a question forming on her lips, but he simply smiled and gestured. She turned her gaze to the doors, and a gasp of surprise escaped her when she saw a person she did not ever expect to see again, leaning slightly on the arm of a beautiful dark haired elf. 
 
“Erin,” she exclaimed, and saw the woman smile with delight. 
 
“Éowyn,” Erin replied, relinquishing her hold on Elladan to greet the lady. “It’s great to see you…oof!” Éowyn’s quick embrace stole her breath.
 
The fair lady stepped back, and her happy expression quickly vanished as she looked at her friend, taking in the wounds on her face and neck, and her overall bedraggled state. “What have they done to you?” she asked, glancing up at the tall elf beside her with a frown. 
 
Erin managed to laugh. “Do not blame Elladan,” she said. “He and his brother were burdened with me all the way from Lothlórien. I owe them, and your brother, my life.”
 
Éowyn’s golden brows drew upwards in confusion. “Éomer?” she asked, glancing at her brother, who was deep in discussion with the King and Aragorn.
 
“He saved me from the orc who did this,” Erin replied softly, her eyes resting on the handsome rider. He glanced up, as if sensing her regard, and gave her a brief smile, before returning his attention to Aragorn and Théoden. 
 
Éowyn shook her head, and looked at her friend. “I would very much like to hear this story, but you are asleep on your feet. Come, let me get you some dry clothing and show you a room.”
 
Erin nodded, and looked at Elladan, who gave both women a brief bow, his hand touching his heart. “I gratefully relinquish my custody of the lady Erin into your gracious and lovely hands,” he said to Éowyn, his lips curving into a smile that caused a flush to rise on the woman’s fair cheeks. 
 
“Good night, Elladan,” Erin told him, hiding her smile as she saw her friend watch the handsome elf turn away.
 
Éowyn turned and looked at Erin, her smile envious. “You traveled with him all the way here?” she asked, her eyes darting away to follow his progress through the growing crowd of men.
 
Erin snickered when she saw Elrohir and Melaphríl enter the hall and greet Elladan, and saw Éowyn’s blue eyes widen in appreciation.  Her friend heard her soft laugh, and gave her an impish smile, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.
 
“I most definitely wish to hear this story,” Éowyn said finally, eliciting another laugh from Erin.
 
“If I can get a bath and something to eat besides Lembas, it’s a deal,” Erin replied as she followed Éowyn’s willowy form towards the stairs.
 
~ * ~

Éowyn smiled, handing the soiled clothing to the maid and dismissing her with her thanks, before wandering down the long stone hallway, passing the door to her room without much thought. The hour was late, and most of the household was in bed, but she found herself restless, and not quite ready for sleep. The torches that hung from their ornate brackets on the walls lit her way as she walked, lost in her own musings, watching the her shadow flicker across the carpet.

She passed one of the elves that had arrived with the Grey Company, giving him a polite nod as he walked by, and she realized she had entered the part of the hall where the newcomers had been quartered. A blush rose faintly to her cheeks as she recalled a certain dark haired elf’s more than charming smile, and the way he had looked at her, his dark gray eyes admiring as he bowed. She had never seen a more beautiful man – nay, elf, in her life, though admittedly her encounters with his kind were few. Only Aragorn’s friend, Legolas, came close to the dark haired elf’s beauty. Elladan, she remembered with a brief and pleased smile. His name is Elladan.

Her footsteps were quiet, muffled by the carpet, and she came to the end of the hallway, pausing indecisively, uncertain of where to turn. She should go back, she supposed, and return to her own room. Yet she was still restless, and she chose, instead, to go out the door that led to a small balcony that overlooked the fields and pastures.  

~ * ~

Melaphríl dropped his belongings on the bed and turned, watching Elrohir prowl around the room they had been given with a small smile. The men and elves with the Grey Company had been graciously allowed quarters within the great hall, and it had not been difficult to make sure he was assigned to share the room with Elrohir. The beautiful elf paced the confines of their room, restless waves of energy rolling off of his lithe form in near tangible waves.

“Elrohir,” he said finally, bringing the dark haired elf’s pacing to a halt.  When the pewter eyes rose to meet his, he gave him a brief smile. “You will wear a hole in the carpet if you do not stop.”

Elrohir glanced down at the carpet in question and grinned. “I am sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I did not realize.”

Melaphríl crossed the distance between them in three easy strides, and took the slightly taller elf in his arms, tilting his head slightly to meet Elrohir’s eyes with his own.

“You do realize that we are alone together, for the first time in how many days?” he asked softly.

A slow smile crept across his handsome features as he looked down at the fair-haired elf that held him lightly by his arms. “Indeed,” Elrohir replied, his voice low. “Whatever shall we do?”

Green eyes peeked up at him from lowered lids, and Melaphríl reached up to trace the edge of Elrohir’s lips with the tips of his fingers. “I am certain we can think of something,” he said finally, feeling the fine tremor that went through the body he held at his caress.

Elrohir’s tongue darted out to taste the fingers that softly explored his lips, and he smiled at Melaphríl’s sudden inhalation. He reached up with his own hands and threaded his fingers gently through the elf’s golden hair, sliding the long strands slowly through them. “Lle naa vanima, meleth nín,” he said huskily, his hand reaching up to cradle Melaphríl’s cheek, bending slowly to touch his lips with his own. 

Melaphríl sighed as he felt Elrohir’s lips touch his. It had been too long since he had felt their touch, and he yielded gratefully to his lover’s caress. He felt Elrohir’s arms enfold him, and he pressed his lean body against his warmth, welcoming the sweet burn of desire that kindled within him. 

Elrohir broke away from the kiss and smiled softly, his hands stroking Melaphríl’s shoulders and down his back. “Melon chen.”

“Elrohir, seron-vell,” he replied, leaning his head against his lover’s chest, hearing the steady heartbeat within. “Make love to me.”

“Not here,” Elrohir replied softly. “I want to see you bathed in starlight, pen-velui.”  He trailed slow kisses across Melaphríl’s forehead, his strong hands stroking his lover’s back. He pulled away and reached for the other elf’s hand, linking his fingers through Melaphríl’s. “Come,” he said, smiling. “Come with me.”

Laughing softly, Melaphríl allowed his lover to lead him out of their room, down the long hallway, and to the steps that led to the great doors. Like two naughty elflings sneaking out for mischief, the two elves crept quietly out of the hall and across the courtyard, their sharp eyes picking their way easily around obstacles, until they reached the stone wall that led to a large green pasture. 

Melaphríl looked at Elrohir questioningly, and the dark haired beauty smiled, tugging him once more past the stone fence and into the shadows of the grassy field. When they were far enough from the torchlight, and hopefully safe from prying eyes, Melaphríl stopped, pulling Elrohir into his arms.

“Here!” he said firmly, and his lover chuckled.

“Aye, melethron. Here,” Elrohir agreed.

~ * ~

She pushed the door open quietly and stepped through, leaving it slightly ajar as she crossed the stones of the balcony to lean over its edge. She took a deep breath of the cool, night air, relishing the breeze that gently blew around her, playing with the loose ends of her braid. Her eyes fell naturally to the pasture below, which was mostly dark, though light from the courtyard lanterns and torches cast a pale glow on the grass.  Her eyes widened slightly in surprise as she spotted two figures walking from the courtyard out into the grass. One of them was dark, the other had hair as fair as her own, and from the distance, she could not quite discern their faces. 

Leaning her arms against the stone railing she watched the two men walk together, side by side, until they reached a comfortable distance from the courtyard and stopped, turning towards each other. When they turned, she could finally see their faces, and she gasped softly in recognition. One of them was either Elladan or his twin, she could not be certain which. The other was another elf from the company who she did not know, but looked familiar, and she finally placed him as the elf who had been standing next to Elladan’s twin.  

Her blue eyes widened in shock as, unaware that they had an observer, the two heads bent towards each other, and their lips met in a kiss.  The light haired elf kissed his dark companion, his hands rising to entwine themselves in the length of sable hair, and Éowyn was moved by the tenderness she saw in the kiss. An idea formed in her head, and she blushed, but silently moved back to the door. She wanted to see them closer, curious beyond her normal restraint, and she moved quickly down the long hallway, making her way to the stairs.

Quietly, she crept down the stone stairs and pushed open the main door, closing it carefully behind her. Gathering her skirts with one hand so she would not trip over them, she made her way down the small flight of stone steps to the courtyard, keeping to the shadows, until she stood just at the edge of the pasture. Pressing herself into the shadows formed by the hall behind her, her eyes sought the pair and found them, and she stifled a gasp. She could certainly see them better from this viewpoint, and things had progressed rather swiftly since her departure from the balcony.  Stepping further into the shadows, she leaned against the stone wall that edged the pasture, peering over the top of it to watch the lovers, for that was what they were, if their actions were any indication.

The dark haired elf had his tunic off, and was helping the fair one out of his, sliding his hands slowly over the smooth and pale flesh of his companion, and she could faintly hear his murmured appreciations and his lover’s equally soft sighs. Their lips met again as their hands explored each other, and Éowyn felt a familiar ache in her loins as she watched them kiss. Though she had stumbled across maids and riders before in passionate embraces, never had she observed two males, and she found herself leaning forward, breathless with unexplained excitement. They were beautiful together, the golden and the sable hair tumbling over each other as they fell to the grass, never breaking their kiss. When they finally broke apart, the blonde elf rolled his companion beneath him and began to divest him of the rest of his clothing, his hands lingering in caresses that brought a blush to Éowyn’s fair cheeks.

She heard the dark haired elf moan softly, and her breath caught as the fair elf slowly stroked his lover’s arousal through the thin material of his breeches, and she heard his soft and pleased laughter carry across the pasture to her ears. Her breathing quickened slightly as he slowly and teasingly undid the lacings of his partner’s breeches, placing long and lingering kisses on the smooth flat planes of his lover’s stomach, before sliding them down over his lithe hips. 

Éowyn covered her mouth to stifle her gasp when she saw him revealed in the pale light of the distant torches, and she trembled, feeling the heat spread through her body as the lighter elf took his lover’s length in his hands and stoked it slowly, eliciting another soft moan from the sable haired elf. He murmured something in elvish, and his partner groaned again, his hands reaching for the fair-haired elf’s leggings.

She watched them, trembling in the cool air of the night, her cheeks crimson with embarrassment and arousal as the dark haired elf divested his lover of his clothing, his hands stroking lovingly over the lean flanks, before reaching up to caress his length, and she heard the fair elf sigh in pleasure.  She knew she should leave, that she should not be watching them in their moment, but she could not bring herself to look away as the fair elf bent down to bestow a kiss upon his lover’s lips, his hands sliding possessively over the darker elf’s pale and lovely skin.

~ * ~

With a low growl Melaphríl pressed Elrohir against him, and claimed his mouth hungrily, his hands sliding possessively over the dark haired elf’s lithe body. Elrohir responded in kind, his hands finding the small clasps that held Melaphríl’s tunic closed and undoing them nimbly, sliding his hands up the bare flesh he revealed. He broke the kiss to gasp as Elrohir’s fingers brushed his nipples teasingly.

Elrohir heard his lover gasp and smiled, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below Melaphríl’s ear and nibbling the soft skin until the warrior was writhing in pleasure. 

“Aníron chen sí,” Melaphríl whispered, closing his eyes as Elrohir’s lips continued to work their magic on his senses. His lithe body arched against the hand that brushed against the rise of his leggings, and a low moan escaped him. 

“Pen-vara,” Elrohir chided softly, his mouth trailing slow kisses across Melaphríl’s neck. “Wait.”

“I do not wish to,” Melaphríl replied, reaching for the ties of Elrohir’s leggings. “Ai! I cannot.”  With a quick tug of his clever fingers, he had the ties loosened enough that he could slip his hand inside his lover’s leggings, and he eagerly grasped the length of flesh he found waiting for him there. 

Elrohir’s head rolled back as Melaphríl’s hand stroked him, a low moan escaping his lips as he surrendered to the pleasure his lover’s hand brought.

“It has been too long since I have seen you this way,” Melaphríl whispered, watching Elrohir’s face as he lost himself to the sensation. “Riding behind you was torture.” With a quick move he tumbled them both to the grass, rolling Elrohir beneath him. He slid his lover’s leggings down his hips, placing slow and leisurely kisses on his flat stomach as his hand returned to its previous caress, eliciting another sweet groan from Elrohir’s lips.

< >  < > < >

A warmth against her neck alerted her that she was no longer alone, but before she could utter a noise, a large hand covered her mouth, and her eyes widened in alarm and dismay.

“There is a penalty, shield maiden, for those who would spy on others,” a soft voice murmured in her ear, and she was turned quickly to face the one who had caught her.

His fingers still covered her lips, and he smiled at her in the shadows, shaking his head, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief and something else she was not certain of. “Come, lady. Let us leave them to their love, for they have had precious little time for it of late.”  When she nodded, he dropped his hand away, still smiling in a bemused fashion.

She felt him take her hand, his fingers entwining with hers, and she allowed him to lead her away from the lovers.  Éowyn followed him numbly, her lips tingling slightly where his fingers had touched them, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. She had no words that would excuse her actions, and she fully expected to face his anger once they were far enough away for him to voice it.  She was surprised, then, when she realized he was leading her to the stables, and not back to the hall, and felt a thrill of delicious uncertainty fill her. 

The stables were empty of all save equine life, and he drew her inside, closing the large wooden door behind them.  Elladan turned to look at her, his keen eyes noting the high color of her cheeks and the faint trembling of her body as she looked back at him half-fearfully.  He released her hand and folded his arms, leaning against the door, effectively blocking her escape.

Éowyn swallowed, feeling a nervous fluttering in her midsection as he continued to regard her, though she could discern no anger in his expression. His eyes glittered in the guttering light of the torches that remained lit, and his generous mouth curved slightly as he looked at her.

“My apologies,” she managed, her cheeks burning as she finally managed to tear her gaze away from his. “I did not mean to spy. I have never seen…is that natural for elves?”  She saw him shrug gracefully, the movement sliding his cloak from his shoulders, revealing the fine blue cloth of his tunic.

“Love has its own rules, shield maiden, the heart answers only to itself,” he replied quietly. By Elbereth, she is lovely, he thought, as fair and fine as any elleth.
 
“They love each other,” she murmured, still looking away. “I could see it in their actions, the way they…” She felt her cheeks redden once more as she finally met his gaze. “They are bold.”

“Time grows short, my Lady, precious few days may remain in which to experience the ways of love.” His voice dropped lower as he regarded her, admiring the grace and quiet strength of her, finding the color on her cheeks made her even more appealing. “They steal what time alone together they can, for although their relationship is not secret, they do not wish to share their moments in the company of others.”  

She shook her head again. “I did not mean to spy,” she repeated, flustered by the look in his eyes. 

Elladan chuckled softly and reached up to play with the soft and fine blonde hairs that had come loose from her braid. “Nevertheless, you must pay the penalty for your transgression against my brother and Melaphríl.”  

Éowyn’s head lifted and her eyes widened as she looked at him. “What penalty?” she asked, lifting her chin slightly, trying to ignore his closeness and failing.
 
“This,” he murmured, and pulled her into his arms before she could utter a protest, covering her mouth with his.

~ * ~

Grass tickled the back of Elrohir’s knees and thighs as he felt Melaphríl take him into his mouth, the warm, wet suction making him gasp with pleasure. “Ai, melethen,” he whispered, thrusting his hips forward and feeling Melaphríl take him deeper, the delicious sensation driving him quickly towards his pinnacle. “I will not last this way.”

Melaphríl drew back, giving his lover’s arousal a final and lingering lick, before crawling up between Elrohir’s thighs and capturing his mouth once more. Hands tugged at his leggings and pulled them over his hips and Melaphríl kicked them aside without thought, his hands and lips intent eliciting more moans and sighs from his love. His lips left Elrohir’s and traveled in slow, teasing kisses across his neck, and he gasped against the warm skin as he felt his lover take his length in his hands.

“Aníron chen sí,” Elrohir murmured, his eyes dark with need. “Please, do not wait.”

Melaphríl chuckled softly, teasing the tip of Elrohir’s ear with his tongue. “Now who is the eager one?” he whispered when he felt his lover take his hand, guiding his fingers to his lips. His chuckles became low moans of pleasure when Elrohir took his fingers into his mouth and sucked them, wetting them with his lips and tongue, before guiding them to the opening of his body. He pressed his fingers gently against the tight muscles there, before sliding them into his lover’s warmth, and he heard Elrohir give a keening moan as he pushed them deeper.

“Ai, yes, melethen, that is it,” Elrohir sighed, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt Melaphríl’s other hand slide down his chest to grip his length, sliding the silky hardness in his fist in a slow, pumping rhythm. “More,” he breathed, spreading his legs wider, his head thrown back against the grass.

Melaphríl added another finger, stretching his lover, preparing the way, loving the soft needful cries Elrohir gave as he found the sensitive bundle of nerves inside him and stroked it. His breath came quicker, his arousal throbbing in response to Elrohir’s moans of pleasure; slowly he withdrew his fingers from the tight confines of his lover’s body and moved between his thighs, pressing the tip of his length against Elrohir’s opening. He leaned forward, his lips barely touching Elrohir’s as he slowly penetrated him, sheathing his length into his lover’s welcoming body with deep groan.  

Elrohir felt his lover fill him and opened his mouth, pressing his lips against Melaphríl’s as the warrior began to move, his thrusts slow and controlled, unhurried. His lover’s tongue danced against his, mimicking the movements his body made as he moved against him, filling him, claiming him. It was almost too much, the tender way the fair and golden beauty made love to him, and Elrohir shuddered beneath him, wanting more.

Melaphríl drew back, his forehead resting against Elrohir’s as he moved their bodies together, sliding his length almost completely out of the tight embrace of his lover’s body, before thrusting into the heat once more. His hand resumed its slow, pumping strokes on Elrohir’s weeping arousal, and he felt his lover tighten inexorably beneath him as his pleasure grew steadily towards its peak.

“Melon chen,” Melaphríl whispered, dropping kisses on the fluttering eyelids, feeling his own release near at hand. “Always.”

“Do not stop,” Elrohir groaned, his hips rising to meet the steadily increasing pace of Melaphríl’s thrust, taking his lover deeper within him. “Never stop.”  His breath came faster as he reached his peak. “Ai, Melaphríl!” he cried, his body tightening, arching beneath his lover’s, the warmth of his seed spilling over his belly. 

Melaphríl groaned, burying his face in Elrohir’s neck as he thrust, once, twice, and cried out, shuddering his release into the heat of his lover’s body. He lay there, content, resting against the gasping body beneath him, and felt Elrohir’s hands stroke his back gently.

“Melon chen, Melaphríl,” he heard Elrohir whisper, and felt him press a kiss against his shoulder. 

Elrohir sighed in contentment, uttering a soft sound of protest when Melaphríl withdrew from his body and curled his lean form alongside his on the grass. Both elves lay on their backs, staring up at the night sky, their fingertips touching as they watched the stars. 

~ * ~

Éowyn froze, helpless to move away as Elladan’s mouth descended on hers, his strong arms holding her against his tall and lithe frame. His lips were gentle at first, a softly teasing caress that stole her breath and left her knees weak.  His arms pulled her closer as his kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against her lips until she parted them, allowing him entrance to the warmth of her mouth.  

He felt her tremble against him as his tongue brushed hers and he savored the sweetness of her taste, the softness of her mouth under his. She was like a slender willow in his arms, bending easily to his embrace as his mouth held hers captive, plundering the moist depths hungrily. Kissing her was like tasting a fine and heady wine, subtle until one began to imbibe too freely, and he found himself growing hard against her.  He shifted her slightly in his arms, holding her small waist in the curve of his arm as his hand rose to softly stroke her face, fingertips sliding over her cheek to trace the finely shaped edge of her ear, all the while his mouth continued to taste and sample her sweetness.

A soft moan escaped her, swallowed by his mouth as his hand slid down her shoulder, his long fingers lingering on the curve of her neck, tracing the delicate edge of her collarbone beneath her gown. She was lost to the sensation of his lips against hers, the feel of his strong arm around her waist, the velvet brush of his tongue as it danced and glided across her own. His hand slid lower, his fingers lightly teasing her ribs as his mouth finally released hers to trail slow and lingering kisses across her neck, sucking and nibbling on the soft flesh he found just below her jaw, his caresses eliciting another soft moan from her. 

The arm around her waist pulled her even tighter against him, and she could feel his arousal pressing against her stomach as his lips moved to her ear. The touch of his tongue and the caress of his warm breath sent shivers of delicious pleasure down her spine, and she felt an ache growing within her, a slow and undeniable burn that left her helpless in its intensity. His hand slid slowly up her ribcage to cup her breast as he pressed his lips against her ear, and she gasped in a mixture of pleasure and outrage that he dared to take such liberties. Her indignation was lost quickly, however, as her body betrayed her, her nipple hardening almost painfully under his touch as his soft voice caressed her ear.

“Bainwain” His hand at her waist slid lower to cup her bottom, squeezing it beneath her gown as his lips and voice played havoc on her senses. “Aníron chen.”  She did not understand the words he spoke, but she found their soft lyrical cadence almost hypnotizing. “Be lî; Aníron tegi chen an haust.”  His thumb brushed against her nipple and she gasped, arching against his touch helplessly, wordlessly pleading.

Elladan groaned softly, desperately trying to reel in his senses before they took control of him completely and he ended up taking the maiden right here in the barn.  He had only meant to steal a kiss, nothing more, and had found her sweet body more temptation than his will could resist. Her breast was a warm and welcome handful, and the slender body that trembled against him inflamed him, as did the soft sighs and moans she uttered. Slowly and reluctantly, his hands left their places to return to safer areas of her body, and he claimed her mouth a final time. 

She knew she should not be kissing him this way, a mere stranger whom she had just met, but Éowyn found she didn’t care as his lips found hers once more. She opened her mouth, her tongue shyly teasing his as she explored him, and she heard him groan softly in response, before he pulled away almost roughly, his hands releasing her as if she were aflame.

“Daro,” he said huskily, his eyes dark with passion. “No more, lady, or I will not be able to stop.”  His breathing was ragged as he struggled to control the urge to pull her against him again, to press kisses against her tempting mouth until she was sighing with pleasure. 

Éowyn’s breath came quickly, stunned for the moment by his sudden release of her, her body aching for his touch in ways she had never experienced before. It both unnerved and angered her.

“How-how dare you!” she sputtered, channeling her desire into something she could control. “My uncle could have you imprisoned when he hears about this, or worse, hang you from the walls!”

Elladan cocked an eyebrow at her, his breath gradually slowing. “And how would you explain the situation to him, shield maiden? That I found you watching my brother and his lover coupling in the pasture, and you followed me – aye, followed willingly where I led you.”  A lazy smile curved his beautiful mouth as his continued. “And will you tell him how you moaned so sweetly in my ear, how you did not protest when I caressed your lovely and trembling body?”

His words both enflamed and enraged her, and she stepped forward, her hand rising to strike him. He caught it effortlessly and held it imprisoned in his grip. Furious, she raised the other, and he caught it just as easily. “You are a beast!” she cried, feeling mortified at her body’s betrayal.

He laughed, and his head dipped lower, his mouth hovering just over hers. “Truly, my lovely one, if I were a beast, I would not have stopped until I had sheathed myself in your willing body.”

She shivered at the mental image his words brought to her mind, trying to ignore how close his mouth was, trying to resist the urge to press her lips against his and rebuild the fire that had tried to consume her. She licked her lips, staring at his mouth, and he uttered a sound in the back of his throat, his hands tightening their grip on her wrists.

“I am not made of stone, lady,” he said softly. “And neither are you, though I think you may wish it before the night is through.”  He sighed, and she felt the warmth of his breath caress her face. “Truly, lady, I meant no harm.”

She raised her eyes to his and met his gaze unflinchingly. “Never has another touched me the way you have this night,” she said softly, and she saw his eyes widen slightly in surprise. “Though some have tried.”  She shook her head, struggling not to get lost in his pewter eyes. “I do not know you at all, yet you make me feel…” she trailed off, uncertain of what she truly wanted to say. 

His hands slowly relaxed their grip on hers, though he did not release them just yet. He looked at her, and felt the same surge of emotion he had felt when he had first laid eyes on her in the hall. It was more than desire, though he felt that as well. It was more of a connection, like something finally sliding into place, revealing a picture that had been hidden from him before. He did not know what it meant, and he could see her struggling to come to terms with her feelings as well. 

“How do I make you feel?” he asked softly, needing to hear her speak, needing to know her thoughts.

She closed her eyes, not realizing that her hands gripped his as surely as his gripped hers. “Like I am burning, yet I do not mind the flames,” she whispered, her eyes opening once more to meet his. “I do not understand how this can be so, this feeling…I do not even know you,” she repeated softly.

Elladan regarded her a moment, his thumbs brushing softly against the backs of her hands. “Would you want to know me, shield maiden?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her. “Would you let me into your heart?”

Éowyn looked away for a moment, unable to bear his intense gaze as she searched her mind, her heart, for the answer. Her body cried out for his touch, but was it more than simple desire? No man had ever touched her the way Elladan had, and she had desired no man until she had seen him, had seen him smile at her. She looked back at him and took a deep, steadying breath. “Yes,” she answered simply. “I would.”

Gently he pulled her to him, his hands holding her small waist as he looked down at her, smiling as he realized her height fit his perfectly. Slowly he bent his head and kissed her, a soft and gentle kiss of first-time lovers, and he felt her tremble slightly in response. With great reluctance he released her, and stroked her fair face with the tips of his fingers. 

“Come,” he said quietly, offering her his arm. “Let me take you back to the hall before someone comes looking for you.”

Shyly, she placed her hand on his arm, smiling up at him. “Elladan,” she said, liking the sound of his name on her tongue. 

He laughed softly, pushing the door open with one hand and leading her through. The walked slowly across the grass, climbing the slight incline until they reached the courtyard, the silence between them comfortable. Elladan pushed the main door of the hall open and closed it behind them, pausing when he felt her stop at the bottom of the stairs.

“I would very much like to…” her cheeks flushed slightly as she looked up at him. “I am not ready to go to bed, just yet. Will you keep me company? To talk?” she added quickly when his eyes twinkled with mischief.

He gave her a brief version of the bow he had given earlier. “As my lovely lady wishes,” he replied. 

~ * ~

Melaphríl stretched catlike, aware that his lover’s eyes were upon him as he straightened, his lithe body tightening in an arc as he eased the muscles in his back.  He turned and smiled at Elrohir, blinking sleepily at him.

“Come, melethen,” Elrohir said with a soft laugh. “Let us find our beds and get some rest.”  He rose gracefully to his feet and found his clothing, scattered haphazardly across the grass, his leggings and tunic slightly dampened with the evening dew. He pulled them on, casting a glance at Melaphríl, who was doing the same. When they were both dressed, he pulled his lover into his arms and kissed him quickly and thoroughly, and he heard Melaphríl’s breath quicken in response.  “Come,” he repeated. “Aníron tegi chen an haust.”

Melaphríl’s silvery laugh echoed lightly across the grass. “You are insatiable, melethen.”

Elrohir’s tongue teased the curve of Melaphríl’s ear as he whispered, “Aye, seron-vell, though you have not complained thus far.”

Laughing, the two elves made their way back to the hall, their laughter fading as they crept back through the door and towards the stairs that led to their chamber.  Elrohir paused suddenly, his head tilted as he heard a familiar voice, and a small smile crossed his lips.  Melaphríl glanced at him questioningly, but his lover put his finger to his lips, warning silence, and tugged the fair haired elf after him down the hall. He stopped at a doorway and peered in, his smile growing broader as he motioned Melaphríl to take a look.

Melaphríl peered around Elrohir’s shoulder into the smaller room and his eyes widened slightly as he took in the scene.

Elladan sat in a large chair, holding a lovely and golden haired maiden on his knees, and he was speaking softly to her, making her smile, his hands lightly stroking her back.  

Shaking his head, Elrohir retreated, leaving his brother alone with the woman and pulling his lover after him as they made their way to the stairs. Moving silently, they made their way up the stairs and down the long hall.

Elrohir pushed open their door and let out the chuckle he had been holding since he had seen his brother with the woman, shaking his head once more. He would never have believed it, until he had seen it with his own eyes. It had finally happened to his brother, and he wondered how Elladan was taking it.

“What is so humorous, melethen?” Melaphríl asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking up at his smiling lover.

Elrohir smiled, crossing the distance between them and sitting down next to Melaphríl, leaning against his lover’s shoulder. “Did you not see him?”

“Aye,” Melaphríl replied, his eyebrows raising slightly. “I saw Elladan with the maiden.  They looked to be talking, although they seem to be quite close.”

“Closer than you realize, melethen,” Elrohir replied with a soft laugh. “My brother has found it at last, though I am sure he does not yet know it.”

Melaphríl leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Elrohir’s mouth before asking, “Found what?”

Elrohir smiled, and returned his lover’s kiss, showing him without words the depths of his feelings for the fair haired elf. “This,” he murmured. “This.”

~ * ~
 
Aragorn sat on the stone edge of the window, the smoke from his pipe curling around his head as he watched the flickering light of the torches in the courtyard below him. The sky was beginning to turn a pale pink on the horizon as the sun began to make its ascent, and for the moment, Meduseld was quiet and peaceful, the majority of its occupants asleep within.
 
The barest hint of noise told him he was not alone, and he turned, giving Legolas a brief smile as the elf entered the room, his footfalls silent as he approached.
 
Legolas eyed the pipe distastefully before settling himself comfortably on the bed; a quick glance told him it had not been slept in, and he frowned, knowing his friend had been up all night with his thoughts.
 
“You did not sleep,” Legolas said, his soft voice breaking the morning silence as he looked at the man. 
 
Aragorn sighed, emptying his pipe of the ashes by tapping it against the stone of the windowsill. “I could not sleep,” he replied. “My thoughts would not let me rest.”
 
Legolas was silent a moment, his dark eyes mirroring his concern. Finally he spoke. “You have been troubled, my friend, since we left Isengard, and the messages your kinsman bore have done little to lighten your heart. Will you speak of it to me?”  He leaned forward, his hair sliding across his shoulders with the movement as his dark brows rose, furrowing in worry. “Speak, and be comforted, my friend. Shake off this shadow! What has happened since we came back from that grim place?”
 
He placed his empty pipe in his pocket, glancing at the pendant he wore openly against his tunic, his fingers touching its brightness briefly.  He looked up at Legolas, and his expression tightened. 
 
“A struggle somewhat grimmer for my part than what we have encountered of late,” he answered finally. “I have looked in the Stone of Orthanc, my friend.”
 
Legolas’ sharp intake of breath was sudden and swift. “You have looked in that accursed stone of wizardry?” he asked, his face paling. “Did you speak aught to – him?  Even Mithrandir feared that encounter.”
 
“You forget to whom you speak,” Aragorn said sharply, his eyes glinting in the half-light of dawn. “What do you fear that I should say to him?  Did I not openly proclaim my title before the doors of Edoras?  Nay, Legolas, my friend,” he said in a softer voice, his face loosing its anger. “I am the lawful master of the Stone, and I had both the right and the strength to use it, or so I judged.  The right cannot be doubted. The strength,” he paused, shaking his head, his jaw tightening briefly. “The strength enough, barely.”
 
Legolas nodded for him to continue, his expression carefully neutral.
 
Aragorn drew a deep breath. “It was a bitter struggle, and the weariness is slow to pass.”  He shook his head again. “I spoke no word to him, and in the end, I wrenched the Stone to my own will. That alone he will find hard to endure. And he beheld me.” He glanced up at his friend, his eyes glinting once more. “Aye, Legolas, he saw me, but in other guise than you see me here. If that will aid him, then I have done ill. But I do not think so. To know that I lived and walked the earth was a blow to his heart, I believe, for he did not know it till now.”
 
“Truly, do you think that wise?” the elf asked softly.
 
“I do not know. The eyes in Orthanc did not see through the armor of Théoden, but Sauron has not forgotten Isildur and the sword of Elendil.  Now, in the very hour of his great designs, the heir of Isildur and the Sword are revealed, for I showed the blade re-forged to him.  He is not so mighty yet that he is above fear; nay, doubt ever gnaws at him,” Aragorn replied wearily, running a hand through his tangled hair. 
 
Legolas shook his head. “Yet he wields great dominion still, and now he will strike even more swiftly.”
 
“The hasty stroke goes often astray,” replied Aragorn with a wry look. “We must press our enemy, and no longer wait upon him for the move. I learned many things when I mastered the stone, my friend. A great peril comes to Gondor from the south, and it will draw all their strength in defense of Minas Tirith. If it is not countered swiftly, the city will be lost, ere ten days be gone.”
 
The fair elf blanched, and rose to his feet. “Then lost it must be,” he said simply. “For what help is there to send thither, and how could it come there in time?”  He threw his hands up. “Even the elves cannot pass the miles that swiftly, though Lord Celeborn rides even now towards Edoras with those that would fight.”
 
Aragorn smiled grimly. “I have no help to send, nor, as you have said, will the elves arrive in time to come to the aid of Gondor. I must go myself.”  He took a deep breath. “There is only one way through the mountains that will bring me to the coastlands before all is lost. That is the Paths of the Dead.”
 
Legolas sat back on the bed, his breath leaving him in a rush. “The Paths of the Dead?” he whispered, shaking his head. “It is a fell name; and little to the liking to the Men of Rohan, as you have seen.  Can the living use such a road and not perish? And even if you pass that way, what will so few avail to counter the strokes of Mordor?”
 
“The living have never used that road since the coming of the Rohirrim,” Aragorn said, his voice low. “For it is closed to them. But in this dark hour, the heir of Isildur may use it, if he dare.”  He looked up at Legolas, his eyes gleaming fiercely. “It is the only way.  As for how few or how many? Do you not recall, my friend, the words of the seer?”
 
The elf nodded slowly. “Then I shall come with you, for you should not travel this way alone.”  His lips curled in a grim smile of his own, and his eyes glinted brightly in the growing light. “I do not fear the dead.”
 
Aragorn rose from his seat and gripped Legolas by his shoulder. His friend placed his hand on top of his and looked up at him.  “I do not ask you to come with me, Legolas,” he told him softly. “But your company is most welcome, my friend.”
 
Legolas smiled briefly. “I cannot wait to hear what Gimli will think of this,” he said with a low chuckle.
 
Aragorn laughed. “Aye, mellonamin. I am sure the dwarf will have no hesitation to share his opinion when the time comes.”
 
~ * ~
 
Erin rose from her bed as the sun touched the edges of the quilt, wincing as she stretched muscles that had grown stiff and sore overnight. She glanced down at herself in bemusement, seeing the purple blossom of bruises on her wrist and, when she lifted the nightgown Éowyn had lent her, the black and blue bruises on her ribs where the orc had struck her. She looked a mess. But at least I’m clean,  she thought, dropping the gown back in place. And I’m not freezing my ass off.
 
Her pack lay beside the bed and she stared at it for a moment, wondering when it had been brought up, and who had brought it for her. She had not heard anyone enter the room after she had gone to bed. She’d been asleep practically before her head hit the pillow. With a shrug, she opened it, and pulled out clean clothing, completely dry, thanks to the clever weatherproofing on her pack.  
 
Dressed in her jeans and WSU sweatshirt, she reached for her comb to untangle her hair, when a knock sounded at her door.
 
“Come in,” she replied, sitting on the edge of the bed, running the comb through her hair, which she noticed, had grown a bit since she’d arrived. It was now past her shoulders, and a few of the ends, she noted critically, were splitting. No conditioner, no razor, no deodorant, and no toothbrush, she groused with amusement, remembering last night how she had regarded her legs with something akin to horror when she realized just how much the hair had grown on them. Her armpits were no better. Just call me Sasquatch, she thought with a sigh, turning to see Éowyn enter.  Her smile of greeting faded when she saw the look on her friend’s face.
 
“What’s wrong?” she asked, dropping her comb back into her pack and rising from the bed.
 
Éowyn stopped her pacing and folded her arms, shaking her head with a frown. “Lord Aragorn and the Grey Company are leaving.”
 
“Leaving?” Erin repeated, her eyebrows rising in surprise. “When?”
 
“By midday,” the woman replied, her expression anguished. “Oh but that is not the least of it.” She sat on the bed, obviously distressed. “They are taking the Paths of the Dead.”
 
*If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead*. The Lady’s words came back to her, as did the image of the black doorway, and Erin shivered suddenly, as if a goose had walked over her grave.
 
“No living person has gone there and returned,” Éowyn said, her face pale in the morning sun. “He will be lost.” The last was said in a whisper.
 
Erin sat beside Éowyn, and took her friend’s cold hand in hers. “The Lady Galadriel herself told Aragorn to take the Paths of the Dead,” she said softly. “She wouldn’t send him to his death.”
 
Éowyn’s eyes widened slightly. “They say the Lady of the Golden Wood is a witch,” she said, her voice trembling. 
 
“Magical, yes. But she isn’t a witch,” Erin replied. “She is wise, but she is gentle and kind. She isn’t a witch.”
 
The golden head dropped for a moment, and her thin shoulders slumped slightly. “I am worried I will never see him again,” she whispered, and Erin’s eyebrows rose higher.
 
“Éowyn,” Erin said softly, patting her friend’s hand. “I’ve got to tell you something, because you’re my friend, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
 
Éowyn’s face lifted and she looked at Erin. “What is it?”
 
Erin struggled to think of a way to tell her friend that Aragorn’s heart already belonged to another without hurting her, and realized, there really wasn’t a good way to say it.  She took a deep breath.
 
“Aragorn is already promised to another,” she said finally.
 
Éowyn smiled, shaking her head slightly. “I know this. He has spoken of his love to me. He wears her token about his neck, and I asked him of it.”
 
It was Erin’s turn to be surprised. “Oh,” she said, feeling foolish. “I thought…”
 
“That I was in love with him?” Éowyn answered, giving a light laugh. “Perhaps, at first, when I met him. But his heart belongs to another, as you have said, and it is obvious to me that he loves her. I care for Aragorn as I care for Éomer.”
 
“Oh,” Erin repeated. “Well, then.” She shook her head, blushing in embarrassment over her mistake. “That’s why you’re so worried about him.”
 
Éowyn gave her a brief smile and rose, pulling her friend to her feet. “Come,” she said, her expression bright. “Let us find you some breakfast.”

Chapter 14
 
Erin's breakfast settled into her stomach as she sat on the stone edge of the wall overlooking the courtyard below, her legs swinging idly as she observed the men and elves of the Grey Company make their preparations for their journey. Éowyn had left her shortly after eating, saying she had some things to attend to before the company's departure, and Erin had wandered the halls of Meduseld, finally arriving at the spot she now sat, her fingers gripping the rough stone. A rising wind ruffled her hair, blowing strands into her face and she tucked it behind her ears irritably, her eyes narrowing slightly in the glare of the sunlight.
 
She felt someone settle next to her on the wall and turned, smiling at Legolas as he perched alongside her, his longer legs crossing easily at the ankles as he leaned back, taking a deep breath of cool morning air. 
 
"Good morning," she said, her breath catching for a moment as he returned her smile. He's so beautiful, and for a moment, she felt the familiar rush of feelings towards the elf, but pushed them firmly aside. She had enough elves on her plate right now, and she was content to consider Legolas her friend. 
 
"Good morning," he returned her greeting. "How are you feeling?" 
 
She shrugged. "Better. Stiff, and sore, like someone beat me with a baseball bat, but otherwise, okay."
 
His eyebrows rose slightly. "Baseball bat?" he repeated. "Is that some kind of weapon from your world?"
 
Erin laughed. "No. It's used in a game. Its like a big stick, and you try to hit a ball with it, without your opponent catching it."
 
"But you do not beat your opponent with it?" he asked, his voice lightly teasing.
 
"No, that's against the rules," she replied, grinning easily at him. 
 
"Ah," he said, nodding, "That is good then."  He tilted his head slightly, tucking a braid behind his pointed ear as he regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. "It is good to see you smile, mellonen. You have changed since I last saw you - you are not so unhappy here, I think."
 
Erin looked away, shrugging. "I don't know, Legolas. Sometimes I'm happy to be here, other times I'm so out of my depth it frightens me."  She looked back at him, shaking her head. "I still feel like I shouldn't be here at all - like it was some cosmic joke at my expense."  She sighed, changing the subject. "You guys are leaving soon?"
 
"Aye," he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me something, Erin," he said, reaching out to tuck a strand of dark brown hair away from her face. "Who has won your heart?"
 
"What?" she asked, startled by his sudden change of topic. "What do you mean?"
 
He smiled slightly. "You told Merry you were taken. I believe those were your words. I would like to know who has won your affections."
 
She looked at him a moment, and shook her head. "Why? I mean, what does it matter?"
 
"Why will you not tell me?" Legolas returned, raising an eyebrow.
 
Erin scowled, looking away from him. "I lied, okay? I didn't want to deal with a hobbit with romantic notions, so I lied."
 
"You are lying now," Legolas replied easily. "Though I do not know why. I thought I was your friend."
 
"You are my friend, Legolas," Erin said with a short sigh. "I just didn't think I needed to share details of my personal life with you."
 
"Is it Haldir?" he pressed, surprising a short bark of laughter from her.
 
"Hell no," she said, shaking her head and looking back at him. "Though he's certainly handsome and noble and all those wonderful things women are supposed to want in a male."  She gave him a faint smile. "Besides, I already know that elves and mortals aren't supposed to mix."
 
He read the unspoken pain in her words. "Who has said such a thing to you?" he asked softly.
 
Erin grimaced slightly. "Haldir was kind enough to enlighten me while I was staying in Lothlórien," she replied. 
 
Legolas nodded. "While it is true that it normally does not occur, it is not forbidden. Who has the right to forbid love where and when it happens?"
 
"I'm not in love with anyone," Erin said firmly. "I had a very good time in Lothlórien, and lets leave it at that.”
 
“Oho!” Legolas retorted, his lips curving into a smile. “I see you blush with your words. Now, indeed, do I know the reason for the changes I see within you.”
 
“You’re awfully nosey for an elf,” Erin said, her lips twitching as she fought not to smile at his good natured grin. “Very unbecoming, I must add.”
 
“Ha!” he replied. “You have been surrounded by the stoic elves of Imladris and Lórien. The elves of Mirkwood are known for their insatiable curiosity.” He lowered his head slightly, his dark eyes glinting in amusement. 
 
She snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. “With the exception of Haldir, I would not describe any of the elves I’ve met as stoic. Rúmil and Orophin certainly do not fit that description, nor do Elladan and Elrohir.”
 
“And which of these has earned that blush I see?” he teased, enjoying her discomfiture. “It cannot be Elrohir, for he is most taken with the lovely Melaphríl. It must be Elladan.”
 
“Drop it, Legolas,” Erin said, feeling her cheeks redden even more.
 
“No?” he said, drawing his brows together thoughtfully. “Then perhaps it is the brave Orophin who has captivated you.”
 
“I’m going to push you off this wall if you don’t drop it,” she warned.
 
He laughed, not in the least bit concerned by her empty threat. “Rúmil, then, for he is certainly fair and skilled with gentle words.”
 
She sighed, and adopted an infatuated pose, batting her eyes at him. “No, dear Legolas, for my heart pines only for you.”  He blinked at her a moment, startled by her words, and she hid her smile. “I’ve been in love with you since I first laid eyes on your cute pointy ears.”  His expression of surprise was so comical she could no longer contain her laughter and she let it go. “Gotcha!”
 
Legolas shook his head at her, trying to frown and failing. “You are not funny,” he told her finally, his mouth betraying his words with a smile. 
 
“I thought it was funny,” she returned, her chuckles gradually subsiding. “You should have seen the look on your face. Though your ears are quite fetching,” she couldn’t resist adding.
 
He drew himself up and looked down at her, his eyes gone suddenly dark and beautiful, his smile breathtaking. “Only my ears?” he asked, his voice a soft caress.
 
She gasped. “How do you do that?” Her midsection felt fluttery for a moment as he leaned closer, and she could feel the silken brush of his hair against her cheek. “Don’t tease, Legolas. It’s not nice.”
 
“Only my ears?” he repeated with a smile, leaning forward even as she tried to pull away. His lips barely grazed her cheek, and she jumped. He pulled back, giving her room to breathe, and smiled.
 
“Gotcha,” he said, parroting her words back at her.
 
Erin scowled, feeling her heart resume a more normal rate. “That wasn’t very nice.”
 
He tilted his head and looked at her. “I thought it was,” he answered truthfully. “You smell quite pleasant.”
 
Erin dropped her face in her hands and groaned. “You’re not going to leave me alone until I tell you, is that it?” She peeked at his face through her fingers and saw his triumphant grin. “Fine. If I tell you, will you tell me why it is you want to know so badly?”
 
Legolas nodded, pulling his knees up and folding his arms around them, resting his chin on the backs of his forearms. “Fair enough,” he said agreeably. 
 
She sighed, dropping her hands to her lap. “Rúmil and Orophin.”
 
His eyes widened slightly. “Both of them?”
 
Erin’s cheeks grew impossibly warm under his regard. “Yes. Both of them. Now, tell me why you want to know.”
 
Legolas shook his head. “How did that happen?”
 
“I’m not going into sordid details, Legolas. If you’re the voyeuristic type, you’re talking to the wrong girl,” she snapped. “Now spill it!”  At his expression of confusion, she reiterated, “Tell me.”
 
Instead of answering, he took one of her hands in his and turned it palm upwards, his finger tracing a path along the lines. “I wanted to know,” he replied finally. “No more than that.”  He looked up at her, seeing the anger in her eyes. “You are my friend, Erin. I wish to see you happy.”
 
She frowned. “Would you have pestered Gimli like this? Or Aragorn, for that matter?”
 
He shrugged gracefully. “Maybe,” he replied. “Yes.”
 
Erin tugged her hand away from his tickling fingers and rubbed her palm against her leg, trying to erase the tingling sensation left by his touch. “Now who’s lying,” she said, confused more than ever. 
 
“You do not love them?” Legolas asked, ignoring her observation. 
 
She sighed, copying his pose, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I like them a lot, Legolas. But love?” she shook her head. “No, I don’t, not really. They were good to me, and I enjoyed the time I spent with them.”
 
“If they rode into Edoras today, would you go to them?” he asked softly.
 
Erin tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed. “It would be tempting,” she said with a rueful smile. “Very tempting. But I don’t think I would.”
 
Legolas heard the truth in her words and nodded. “Why not?”
 
Despite her embarrassment, Erin realized it actually felt good to finally speak her thoughts to another. “Because I can’t be with them that way again and not fall in love, I don’t think. And it wouldn’t work.”  She glanced up at him and read only understanding in his dark eyes. “I mean, the whole elf mortal thing, and the fact that there is two of them, and only one of me. How could I choose one over the other?”  She laughed abruptly. “That’s awful, I know. But it’s true.”
 
“Something else is on your mind,” he pressed gently. “What is it?”
 
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Legolas. Part of me wonders if they were put in my path on purpose, and that things happened between us the way they did so that I would be able to trust again, to love again.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the sky. “I mean, I wonder if the Valar have matchmaking plans for me, or something, and they sent Rúmil and Orophin along to soften me up first.”
 
Legolas laughed, his fair face brightening. “Perhaps you are not so far wrong in your assessment,” he said lightly. “For I can see now the changes within you. You are no longer the lost maiden we found on the plains of Rohan, weeping in the privacy of your tent. You have found your strength, I think, and if Rúmil and Orophin have given your heart some happiness, then it is all for the good.”
 
Erin shook her head. “Oh, I’m still very lost, Legolas. And confused, and homesick.”  Her eyes caught sight of a familiar figure striding across the courtyard, and without realizing it, she followed his progress as he made his way to the stairs that led to the hall.
 
The elf turned his head and followed her line of sight, his lips curving slightly as he saw Éomer pass through the wooden doors of the hall. “Perhaps, then, I should have said that your heart was no longer lost.”
 
Erin looked back at him and snorted. “If you say so, Legolas.”  She hugged her knees against her chest and looked up at the clear blue sky above them.  “So what was with the flirty bit?” she asked.
 
He raised a dark eyebrow. “It worked, did it not?”
 
“Nosey elf,” Erin muttered, glancing at him with mock exasperation. 
 
“Do you forgive me?” he asked, his eyes bright with laughter.
 
She leaned across and kissed him soundly on his cheek. “Nope,” she lied. “And I pity your sisters, if you’ve got any.”
 
Laughing, the tall elf rose, leaving her to her view of the courtyard below.
 
~ * ~
 
Éowyn’s fingers lightly touched the links of the chain mail shirt she had pulled from the armory, tracing the individual links with her fingertips, her brow furrowed in thought. Her sword lay forgotten for the moment on the large wooden chest beside her as she knelt on the rug, carefully considering.  The Grey Company was leaving soon. How then, to follow them without being seen?
 
She rose gracefully to her feet, holding the chain mail to her as she checked the door once again, ensuring that it was locked from within. Her breeches and tunic lay folded carefully next to her sword, as did her shield and helm.  She would wait until they departed, give them a good lead, before following on Mearagar. Her horse was swift, and she knew the land better than they. She would have no trouble catching them before they entered the Paths of the Dead.  She would wait, hanging back at the end of their company, and follow them inside. She would not be left behind, wondering over the fates of those she cared for more than anything.
 
She had not lied to Erin when she had told her friend that she thought of Aragorn as a brother, but it had not been entirely the truth either. She loved the dark haired ranger with all her heart, but knew there was no hope in it for her. She had accepted that he could never return her love, and had to content herself with being his friend.  
 
Elladan’s arrival had changed her feelings towards the ranger in a way she would never have expected, but the outcome of it pleased her nonetheless. A faint smile crossed her lips as she remembered her encounter with him the night before, shortly after she had seen Erin tucked into bed.
 
*“Love has its own rules, shield maiden, the heart answers only to itself.” His voice was soft and smooth, caressing her ears.  “Time grows short, my Lady, precious few days may remain in which to experience the ways of love.” His dark eyes holding hers captive as he looked at her.  “You must pay the penalty for your transgression against my brother and Melaphríl.”  
 
His mouth covering hers, gentle, softly teasing lips, strong arms pulling her to him, his lithe body against her own.  Soft caresses of tongue, warm and wet and sweet, strong hands gently caressing, shivers wracking her frame.  Words, words she did not understand but that shook her to the core, made her tremble with need.
 
“How do I make you feel?” asking her softly, his eyes dark, mirroring the desire she felt in their depths. “Would you want to know me, shield maiden? Would you let me into your heart?”*
 
With the arrival of Elladan and their subsequent encounter in the barn, Éowyn found the pain of her unrequited love had diminished greatly. The dark haired elf had enchanted her, stolen her breath and her heart with his words and his kisses, filling her with a longing that made her feelings for Aragorn pale in comparison. She loved Aragorn, but she yearned for Elladan in a way she did not yet comprehend fully. It was enough to know that the beautiful half-elf felt something for her in return.
 
Her face flushed slightly as she remembered his words to her in front of the fire, how tenderly he had stroked her hair, her back, placing soft kisses on her eyes and lips. How he had vowed to return when the war had ended, to court her and woo her properly. His gray eyes had twinkled with mischief and tenderness as he spoke those words, and she had lost her heart to him then. 
 
How, then, could she bear to be parted from him? To stay behind, worrying over his fate, wondering if he would ever return for her?  She was a Shield Maiden of Rohan, and no stranger to the dangers of battle. It was more fitting that she should be by his side to face the darkness to come.
 
Slowly, with trembling fingers, she began to undress, laying her gown aside as she reached for her leggings, pulling them over her slim hips and tying them. The soft undershirt came next, followed by the chain mail. Over this, she donned her tunic, and finished by fastening a long blue cloak at her throat. She reached for her sword and buckled it at her waist, tucking the matching knives into their wrist sheaths before strapping them to her forearms. She pulled her boots on, smoothing the tops that reached just past her knees and buckling the straps that held them in place, before sliding the hood of her cloak over her tightly braided hair. She tucked her helmet under her arm and reached for her shield, sliding her other arm through the straps until it rested in place. 
 
She glanced at herself in the reflective surface of another shield, and nodded in satisfaction. With her features well hidden, she could easily pass for a youth, and she hoped that no one would notice her addition to the company until it was too late to send her back.  She took a deep, steadying breath, and opened the door to the armory, stepping silently as she could into the hall and closing it behind her. 
 
Straightening, she walked with purposeful strides down the hall towards the main doors, passing familiar faces without pause, noting that they merely glanced at her without any sign of recognition. Her boots scraped the stone steps as she swiftly descended them, and she cast a quick look about her, breathing a silent sigh of relief when no one paid particular notice of her as she made her way across the courtyard to the stables.  Her heart nearly stopped when she saw Aragorn standing with Halbarad, but the men’s attention was not on her, and she passed by them quickly, and entered the barn without looking back. She made her way quickly to Mearagar’s stall, unlatching the door and stepping inside. Her horse knew her by her scent, pushing his nose against her chest in greeting, and she stroked his neck with trembling fingers, leaning against his warm hide.  
 
Now, all that remained for her to do was wait.
 
~ * ~
 
Erin watched the small horseman stride purposefully across the courtyard, his helmet tucked beneath his arm, his gait faltering for a moment as he passed by Aragorn and Halbarad, before entering the barn. She saw Elladan, Elrohir, and Melaphríl join the men in the courtyard and watched them for a moment, frowning as her eyes returned to the stable door.
 
Something wasn’t right.
 
The thought popped into her mind unbidden and she rose from her perch on the stone wall, stretching her body carefully to work out the kinks, wincing as the movements made her ribs ache. Her gaze returned to the dark opening of the barn door, and she frowned again, unsettled.
 
She made her way to the stone steps that led to the courtyard and descended them, wondering what was prompting her to cross the flagstones of the yard and take the sloping path that led to the stable. She nodded briefly to Aragorn as she passed him, giving a little wave to Elladan, Elrohir and Melaphríl before turning her gaze back to the stable.  She was not aware of their eyes watching her curiously as she paused outside the door, before stepping into the cool shadows of the barn. 
 
Erin closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head, before stepping past the first line of stalls, ignoring the equine heads that poked out of the doorways, their eyes watching her progress as she walked with slow, faltering steps down the aisle. Something drew her, like a magnet, to the third stall on her right, and she recognized the horse that peered out at her with a start.
 
It was Mearagar, Éowyn’s horse.
 
She stepped closer to the stall, reaching up to scratch the soft nose he pushed at her, and wondered what the hell was going on. Without conscious volition, she turned, reaching for the latch that held his door and lifted it, pushing the door open with her hand and stepping into the stall, closing it firmly behind her. 
 
Erin turned, feeling as if the world had slowed, and met the surprised blue eyes of the horseman she had seen crossing the courtyard earlier.  It took only a moment for recognition.
 
“Éowyn!”
 
The rider pushed back the hood that covered his hair, and a long blonde braid tumbled out. 
 
“How did you know I was here?” the lady demanded, obviously unhappy at being found.
 
Erin opened her mouth, and then shook her head. “What are you doing?”
 
Éowyn stiffened, pulling herself upright. “I am going with them. I will not be left behind.”
 
“You cannot go,” Erin heard herself say. “That is not the path for you.”  Goosebumps prickled her arms and she shivered suddenly. “Aragorn must take that path. Not you.”
 
“I do not wish to be left behind,” Éowyn said, unnerved by her friend’s blank look. “I cannot bear it.”
 
“That is not the path for you,” Erin repeated, shivering again with sudden cold that filled her. “Your destiny lies another way.”  She shuddered, leaning for a moment against the firm wooden wall of the stall. 
 
Éowyn shook her head. “I care not for your words, my friend. You speak of things you know nothing about. I would follow my heart, and fight for my people at his side.”
 
Erin’s head lifted, and Éowyn saw that her eyes were wet with tears. “Only death lies upon that path,” Erin whispered, before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed against the straw. 
 
The shield maiden dropped to her knees beside her friend, reaching for her hand and holding it, shocked by the icy and clammy touch of Erin’s skin against her own.  She chafed it gently, trying to warm it, before reaching out to shake her friend by the shoulder.
 
“Erin, Erin!” Éowyn called her name urgently, shaking her again, her face rapidly growing troubled when her friend did not respond, her head rolling limply against the straw.  Trembling with worry, Éowyn rose to her feet and unlatched the stall door. With a final glance at Erin’s pale and unconscious form, she stepped into the aisle and ran for help.
 
~ * ~
 
She was sitting beneath the large oak tree, her arms folded around her knees as she looked up at the greenery above her. Tears slid freely down her cheeks, and she trembled in fear.
 
“Child, why do you weep?” a melodious voice asked, and she looked up, wiping her tear streaked face with the back of her sleeve.  A man and a woman smiled down at her. They were wondrously tall,  and their eyes were the color of the sky. Their faces were kind and beautiful as they regarded her with gentle, warming smiles.
 
“I’m lost,” twenty-three year old Erin said, wiping the last of her tears away with her fingers. “I can’t remember the way home.”
 
“Shhh,” the woman said, bending down to enfold the frightened young woman in her arms. “Do not fear. We will show you the way.”
 
Erin hugged the woman tightly, so glad to have been found she felt herself shaking. 
 
“Who are you?” she found herself asking when the woman had released her.
 
The man and the woman exchanged a quick glance, before the woman helped her to her feet, holding her hand gently with her long and graceful fingers.
 
“We are the ones who brought you here,” the woman said softly. “We gave you a task, which you have completed.”
 
Erin looked at them in confusion. “What task?” she asked, allowing the man and woman to lead her along the leaf strewn path. 
 
“To befriend the shield maiden of Rohan, and to be our voice when it was needed,” the man replied, looking at her kindly. “You did well, child.”
 
Erin smiled, pleased that she had his approval. “Then I can go home now?” she asked, looking from one beautiful face to the other. 
 
“If that is what you truly wish,” the woman answered gently. “We will show you the path.”
 
She nodded, watching the leaves gently fall from the trees and wondering at it. The trees around them seemed to be caught in a mix of seasons, some were bare of foliage, others held the brilliant colors of autumn, and still more held the green buds of spring. The air was clean and fragrant, and she filled her lungs deeply, savoring the crisp scent.  
 
It reminded her of Lothlórien, and her steps faltered for a moment as memory came flooding back.
 
Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Haldir, Orophin, Rúmil, Galadriel, Celeborn, Éowyn, Elladan, Elrohir, Merry, Melaphríl, Gandalf and….Éomer. Orcs. The battle of Helm’s Deep. Death everywhere. Rúmil and Orophin’s passionate and joyful lovemaking. Legolas’ gentle teasing and laughter. Gimli’s pleased smiles and gruff affection. Aragorn’s strength and kindness towards her. Gandalf’s understanding. Éowyn’s friendship. Éomer’s strong arms protecting her, his kisses enflaming her. All of it tumbled through her mind, and she reeled under the onslaught. 
 
The man glanced at the woman and they stopped their walk, watching as Erin remembered everything from beginning to end. She lifted her head and stared at the two, blinking slowly as she recovered from the rush of memory that had flooded through her.
 
“You,” she managed. “Why did you do this to me?”
 
The woman smiled gently. “Your fëa called to us from across the void.”
 
Erin shook her head. “My what?”
 
“Your soul, if you prefer,” the man answered. “The spirit that resides in your body; that which makes you who you are.”
 
“I don’t understand,” Erin said, shaking her head again. 
 
“We heard your call when you were still but a little child,” the woman said, with a subtle, knowing look. “We could not take you then, you were not prepared.”
 
“We could not take you from your loved ones,” the man continued. “So we returned you to them, and gave you into their keeping.”
 
“But you could take me now?” Erin demanded, her eyes flashing in anger. “Why now?”
 
“You were ready,” the woman answered simply. “It was time.”
 
“I don’t understand,” Erin repeated, turning away from them to lean against the silvery brown bark of a cedar tree. She crossed her arms and looked at them, shaking her head.
 
The man and woman exchanged a glance, and the woman spoke again, her melodious voice soothing. “Did you not ever wonder why you were unhappy in your life?”
 
“Did you ever feel that you did not belong?  That you were missing something in your life that would make you complete?” asked the man, his blue eyes bright as he gazed at her. “And why it is that part of you feels that it belongs in the world we sent you to?”
 
“Have you not ever considered why you never found the love you sought so strongly?” the woman continued gently.
 
Erin dropped her arms to her sides and straightened, looking at them both. “You’re saying… what is it that you’re saying, exactly?”
 
“That your fëa did not belong to the world in which it was born.  Your soul was destined for this one,” the man answered gravely.
 
She blinked at them. “My soul was born in the wrong place?”
 
They beamed at her. “Precisely,” the woman answered. “We do not know why it happened.”
 
“For good or for ill,” the man added.
 
“Yet happened it did. We merely sought to correct the mistake,” the woman continued with small smile.
 
“And to give you the chance, the opportunity to feel what it is like to be in a world where your soul truly belongs,” the man finished.
 
Erin shook her head. “This is beyond weird,” she said finally. “I don’t know what to say. You two are telling me that my soul, my fëa,” she corrected with a brief and humorless smile, “Was supposed to be born in Middle Earth, in a world, as far as I know, that only existed in the mind of a college professor. I’m supposed to believe that somewhere along the way there was a great, cosmic mix-up, and my fëa got sent to the wrong place. And out of the goodness of your hearts, you brought me here to see if I felt better about my life, because my fëa actually belongs here, and not in the world I was born in.” She took a deep and trembling breath before continuing. “And you don’t know why or how this mix-up happened, just that it did.”
 
“Yes,” the woman nodded.
 
“So you brought me here to do what? To help Éowyn? To tell her that she’s not supposed to follow Aragorn?” Erin asked incredulously. 
 
“We gave you the task of aiding the shield maiden so you would have a purpose, a reason for being here that you could understand,” the man explained gently. 
 
Erin crossed her arms again. “Gandalf and Galadriel both said that my presence here has caused changes in the natural course of events. Was that your purpose for me as well?”
 
The man and woman exchanged another one of those long, meaningful glances that Erin was beginning to find irritating.
 
“It was not a direct purpose, Erin, but it has served the needs of many,” the man replied.
 
Erin took another deep breath, and dropped her arms, stepping away from the tree. “So now what? I did what I was supposed to do?”
 
The woman nodded. “You have completed the task set before you.”
 
“I can go home?” Erin was confused by the rush of feelings that followed the thought of returning to her world, and everything she knew. Part of her longed to see her parents and friends, and to return to the normalcy of her life as a student. Yet part of her could not imagine never seeing the friends she had made during her stay in Middle Earth. Never see Éowyn again, or Rúmil, or Orophin. Never tease Gimli or Legolas? And what about Éomer?  What about the way she truly felt there – despite the dangers and the lack of hot running water. What about the way Middle Earth had called to her – its magic and beauty, and the peoples that lived there. 
 
“If that is what you wish,” the man answered. “A choice lies before you, Erin Smith. Return to your world and all you have known there, or remain here, where your fëa truly belongs.”
 
The woman raised her arm and pointed, and Erin’s eyes followed the gesture, her eyes widening as she saw a distinct path appear before the woman’s feet. It wound through the trees and between the plants that grew in the forest, before splitting; one fork leading right, the other winding to the left.
 
Erin stepped closer and stopped between the man and woman, looking at the path before her, her eyes trying to see where the two branches led. Though her eyes followed them both as far as she could, she couldn’t tell where either of them would lead her.
 
“Which do I choose?” she asked softly, glancing from one beautiful face to the other. “Which path is the correct path?”
 
The man and woman smiled gently down at her, their eyes luminous. “We cannot guide you in this, child. The choice must be yours alone,” the woman said softly.
 
“One path leads to your heart’s true desire,” the man said. “The other does not. Though neither choice will leave you truly unhappy, there is sorrow in both.”
 
They stepped forward together and embraced the young woman, the man placing a soft kiss at her temple, the woman a kiss on her cheek, before stepping away from her once more.
 
“Your choice is before you,” the woman said gravely. “Choose wisely. Choose well.”
 
“May the blessings of Ilúvatar be upon you,” the man said, touching his heart in a brief bow in the manner of the elves. 
 
“Who are you, really?” Erin whispered. Her eyes widened in awe as both the man and the woman seemed to grow even taller before her eyes, their raiment taking a soft glow that reminded her of Gandalf when he had revealed himself to them the first time. Their eyes gleamed impossibly bright blue, and their heads were crowned with what looked like miniature stars.
 
“Farewell, Erin,” the woman said, her voice hauntingly beautiful as she raised her hand. “We wish you well.”
 
Their glow intensified and Erin was forced to look away, the brightness of it too much to look at. When it faded away, she looked back, not surprised in the least to see that the man and the woman were both gone.
 
“As cryptic as elves,” she muttered softly, blinking as her eyes gradually readjusted to the lack of glow. “And I never got to ask them about Tolkien.”  She sighed and glanced down, her eyes following the path before her. 
 
She began to follow the path, grousing quietly to herself as she walked through the trees, keeping her eyes on the fork ahead. “Galadriel said I’d get a choice. She didn’t bother to tell me that I wouldn’t know which was which!”  She took a deep breath and stopped, the tips of her boots touching the end of the path where it split. “One way leads to my heart’s desire,” she said softly, glancing to the right. “The other? Obviously doesn’t, but I won’t be completely miserable. What a choice.” She looked left, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to make out any detail that would give her a clue which one she was supposed to choose.  
 
Erin stood at the crossroads and several moments passed as she wavered, undecided, uncertain which was the right path to take.
 
“My heart’s desire,” she repeated softly to herself, sighing quietly. “What is my heart’s desire?”  She considered the question honestly for a moment, closing her eyes. What was truly her heart’s desire?  She remained motionless for several moments, before she finally opened them and smiled.
 
She glanced at the right hand path for a moment, then back at the left, and followed her heart.

Here ends Book 1 of Erin’s adventures in Middle Earth.