Now, in some cases, she might have simply gone around, leaving the problem to other Hobbits who might happen to be nearby. However, this happened to be a female Hobbit, and being a female herself, she might gather that lying face down in the road was not something the Hobbit was doing by choice. Male creatures might be inclined to such things, much as they were inclined to drunkenness, but females generally were not, and so here she was, stopped in the middle of the road, facing a dilemma.

Ciendriel had been on her way to Mirkwood when she had encountered the Hobbit. She was from Ingra, a small village forgotten by the other tribes of elves of Middle Earth, which had been lost in the deep forest for centuries. Still, the village had received word that the Elves of Mirkwood were in need of their kin, and so she had chosen to go. Her mother, Morgone, was the Queen of Ingra, small colony though it was. There was no King. This band of Elves had always been ruled by women, and sometimes Ciendriel suspected that this was why they had no communion with the other Elves of Middle Earth.

She herself had heard only tales of the others. All her life she had longed to see Mirkwood. This was her chance, and she had taken it, leaving almost before anyone could stop her. Her mother would send Elfin warriors after her, she knew, to "protect" her. But she didn't want that. Didn't need it. With her bow, she was a better shot than any of the few male Elves in Ingra. She wanted this adventure to herself, with only her horse, Keval, to share it.

It had been like flying, letting the big, black stallion take his head. Ciendriel had spread her arms to the wind, let her long blond hair stream out behind her as she rode. Keval and she had been as one creature, even when at last he wearied, slowed to the road. And then they had come upon the Hobbit, and Keval had stopped in his tracks, nearly throwing her, refusing to move until she dismounted and investigated.

Ciendriel had known many Hobbits. They traded with her village, from time to time. This one was a stranger. Gingerly she turned the girl over, which failed to revive her. Ciendriel checked for signs of life, and was soon aware that the Hobbit still lived. She didn't appear to be bleeding, or even much bruised, and it was not readily apparent as to what had caused her state of unconsciousness.

She sat down on the ground and unfurled her map. There was, less than a day's ride away, a Hobbit village called Hobbiton in the Shire. It was not in the direction she wanted to go, but her heart was already heavy with responsibility. Gingerly she lifted the Hobbit lass up and draped her over Keval's saddle, climbing lightly up behind her. She would bring the Hobbit to the Shire and let other Hobbits aid her.

***

Angelica was lost in a mist. She couldn't see forwards or backwards, or where she was going -- if she was going anywhere at all. She had been cold for a long time, but she was no longer. A sweet warmth pressed in on either side of her, and with the warmth came a buzzing. It was not an annoying buzzing, or a frightening one, simply a curious one that caught her attention and made her strain to listen to it. While the mist stubbornly failed to lift, the buzzing did eventually resolve itself into words.

"Ah, she's a pretty one, Merry."

"You always did like red-haired lasses, Pippin."

"I did, Merry. And I like this one, too."

"So do I. Do you reckon she'll like us, then?"

"How could she not? I like you, and you like me, after all. What's not to like?"

"Some lasses don't like to share, Pippin. Isn't that why neither of us has one?"

"No lass could come between us, Merry."

"This one's between us right now."

"I know, and it's driving me mad."

"Perhaps if you kissed her, she'd wake up."

"You think so?"

"I always wake up when you kiss me."

"That you do, Merry. And I always wake up when you kiss me."

"Do it, then."

Were they speaking of her? She was having trouble following the conversation. Angelica felt warmth against her lips, then more warmth between her thighs, but still the mist would not lift. She let out a moan of frustration, but her own moan sounded far away even to her.

"She likes it, then. But she won't open her eyes."

"Perhaps we ought to try harder, Pippin…"

"I'm not sure what else to do, Merry."

"You know how to please a lass."

"No, I don't Merry. I've never had a lass."

"You know how to please me. Can a lass be so different?"

"Well. A lass is at least a little bit different… I mean, just look at her. It's not quite so obvious, what to do that might please her. Do you know how to please one?"

"Of course I do. What do you take me for?"

"Then show me, won't you? I'm getting hungry. It's got to be near breakfast time by now…"

***

It had been nearly midnight when Ciendriel had reached Hobbiton. The Hobbits of the Shire had been having some sort of celebration when she arrived, a noisy picnic, with fireworks, and more food than she had seen in her life. Many of them were well into their cups, and she felt a flare of irritation for this. Were any of them going to be in any condition to take care of a wounded female? Ciendriel wasn't about to turn her charge over to inferior care.

Though the Hobbit lass had not awakened at all during their journey, Ciendriel had found herself becoming attached to the vulnerable young thing. She had curly red hair of a shade never found in the Elfin world, and clever, pretty features that hinted at intelligence. She was light and easy to hold, a small thing, despite her enormous Hobbit feet. Ciendriel had come to feel responsible for her, and it took all of her elfin calm not be irritated now.

She had stood on the edge of the clearing, next to Keval, holding the Hobbit lass in her arms, simply watching the Hobbit debauchery until at last one blessedly sober-faced, serious looking young Hobbit had approached her, removing his cap.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am. But you're an Elf."

She nodded.

"You're dressed like…like a man Elf."

"In my village, we dress for the comfort of our chores," she said churlishly. So she wore armor. It was far safer than a gown. The Hobbit nodded tentatively, apparently accepting this.

"I suppose you've come to see Legolas, but he's at the house of Mr. Frodo right now. And-- and I can't help noticing that you're carrying something, there."

Ciendriel had no idea who Legolas or Mr. Frodo were, and despite the politeness of this young Hobbit, she frowned at him.

"Are you the leader of this village?" she asked shortly.

"No, no ma'am. I'm Samwise Gamgee. Just Sam."

"Well, Just Sam, I am Ciendriel of Ingra, and I have discovered this Hobbit lass lying face down in the road in my travels. If there is someone here responsible to whom I can commend her, I will be on my way."

"But what's happened to her?"

"I am certain that I do not know. I simply found her and felt it my duty to see that she was removed from harm's way. As this was the nearest Hobbit village to where she was found, I had hoped she might be one of yours." She let a softness filter through her words. She could not help but like Samwise Gamgee. He had such an earnest face.

"You are a great lady, Ciendriel of Ingra," Sam said. "Not many Elves would have stopped to aid a Hobbit they did not know."

She inclined her head, her cheeks stinging at the words, because she knew them to be true. Before she could speak, two curly-haired Hobbit lads accosted Sam, each throwing an arm around him, pinning him between them. These two seemed to have been enjoying the fruits of the celebration with much aplomb.

"What's this, Sam? We've been missing you."

"And you have been missing all the fun."

"Pippin, Merry, stop," Sam said, trying to squirm free of them and failing. "Can't you see there's a lady--"

"And what do you know of ladies, Samwise Gamgee?"

"More than you do, Pippin, I'll wager."

They roared with laughter. Ciendriel took a step forward, unable to help Sam in his struggle due to her burden. Her movement caught the drunken Hobbits' attention and they stopped and stared at her with open mouths, first taking in her face, then both sets of eyes dropping to the Hobbit girl in her arms.

"What's going on here?"

"What have y'done to that lass, Elf?"

"She's trying to help!" Sam said with frustration, finally squirming free of his friends. "The lass has been hurt. Miss Ciendriel found here, and brought her to us. We've got to get Mr. Frodo, he'll know what to do."

It seemed to Ciendriel that Merry and Pippin exchanged a look which only could denote that they were up to no good. Sam didn't seem to see this.

"We'll take the lass," they said in unison.

Sam seemed to sag with relief. It was a quick solution for him. "Maybe that's best, at least til morning, when we can get someone to examine her."

"Oh, absolutely," said Merry.

"We'll take the very best care of her," promised Pippin.

"I'm not," said Ciendriel, "Entirely certain that this is the best solution."

"No? I think it'll be fine, Miss Ciendriel, until we can speak to Mr. Frodo."

Sam looked at her with utter lack of understanding. It became clear, then, that he thought the world of Merry and Pippin, and who was she to judge? She really didn't know any of them, and she was supposed to be on her way to Mirkwood, anyhow. Wasn't what she wanted simply to be rid of the Hobbit lass? Hadn't she done enough?

"All right," she sighed. "Would you like me to carry her somewhere for you?"

***

Dawn was two hours away. The Hobbit party was finally dying down outside, so Legolas Greenleaf judged it might be safe to end the "meeting" he had called between himself, Frodo, and Gimli at Frodo's house. Truthfully, the meeting was more of a secret agreement between himself and Frodo to keep Gimli from getting drunk with the other Hobbits -- Legolas was fond of the Dwarf, but when he was drunk, he was either a terror, recklessly chopping up furniture with his axe, or he turned into a soppy mess and tried to seduce Legolas (which later he would claim to have no memory of and become very offended if someone mentioned it.) Either way, it was far more entertaining to keep him distracted, and there would be less of a mess to clean up in the morning.

And I won't have to turn him down, yet again…

The dwarf might be his best friend, and Legolas had no preference as to which sex he shared a bed with, but Gimli just wasn't his type. It was a shame he didn't want Frodo, who was always staring at Gimli with those huge blue eyes of his. Gimli didn't see it, but Legolas did. He sighed.

The proposed subject of the meeting was a lost harp, a magical artifact that had once belonged to the Elves of Mirkwood. Legolas wasn't entirely sure the harp wasn't a legend, but so long as it kept Gimli's mind on the quest to find it, he would be happy to pretend that it was. The evening and far into the night had been spent poring over maps, debating different paths. Legolas had made sure to come up with objections to every single one of Gimli's ideas until his friend had gotten angry enough to bang his meaty fist on the table and call him a "stupid Elf."

Legolas had felt his ears heat up and turn pink, and if he hadn't been being deliberately contrary he might have told Gimli there was no damned harp and gone out to drink with the Hobbits himself. It was bad enough that Frodo thought the whole thing was hilarious and had to keep making excuses to Gimli for his inappropriate laughter.

But now, at last, the party seemed to be breaking up and Gimli looked as if he were about to fall asleep on Frodo's table, so it was safe to end the meeting. Tomorrow the three of them would depart for Mirkwood, his home. Legolas hadn't been home in a very long time, and he was eager to see it again. It was also be amusing to see how Gimli would behave. Elves and Dwarves were natural enemies -- they both knew their friendship was a rare one.

Legolas had never thought Gimli would agree to accompany him, and that was simply another measure of the Dwarf's love for him. He had also thought that Frodo would be glad to be home, but he insisted on going to Mirkwood because of his own infatuation with Gimli. When Gimli's head finally came to rest on the table, Legolas sighed with relief.

"I bid you good night," he said quietly, slipping towards the door.

"Good night, Legolas," Frodo said cheerily.

"Wait, where are you going?" Gimli said, sitting up, wide awake. Damn.

Legolas pretended not to hear and slipped out the door, letting Frodo explain that he was staying with Merry and Pippin and that Gimli was expected to stay with him. He was tired, and had had enough talk. Hopefully Merry and Pippin had drank themselves unconscious, or more talk might be exactly what he would get.

Without a sound, Legolas opened the door to the two young Hobbits' house and slipped inside. He meant simply to lie down on the floor beside the fire in their great room, knowing that if he went up to the bedroom, they would consider it an invitation. Comfort could be sacrificed for privacy. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept in a comfortable bed.

No. That was a lie. He could remember. It had been a tavern bed shared with Aragorn. He could remember all too well. He could remember the feel of the big, dirty, Man's hands on him…could remember how he had liked it…how he had melted, had given him everything. Had begged for more.

Had he known even then that there could not be a place for him by Aragorn's side? It had been thrilling, yes, but there had been no way for it to last. He shook his head sadly at the thought. It didn't matter how many pleasant nights he and Aragorn had spent together in the end. Life had different paths for them.

Legolas heard the voices of Merry and Pippin chattering away upstairs. WHY were those two still up? Well, he could guess why. A moan from above quickly confirmed it. A pang of loneliness shuddered through the Elf, and he debated what might happen if he walked up the stairs to join them. He might pretend he was going only to chastise them for not being asleep by now… Would they invite him into their bed? There had been other invitations, but he had refused them. Did he want to be there now, pressed between those quick, warm little bodies? What would it be like to lie with Hobbits, to give himself over to them?

Maybe he would just watch them together. Just for a little while. No one would know. It could be his own shameful secret. As quiet as a cat, Legolas slipped up the stairs to the Hobbits' bedroom. The door was already open a crack…enough for him to see in. His eyes were sharp in the darkness, and they had left a lantern burning at their bedside. Merry and Pippin were in the bed, all right, but someone else was already with them. Between them. Another Hobbit? Could it be Sam? If any Hobbit needed to get laid, Legolas thought, it was Sam, but he couldn't imagine the innocent young Hobbit succumbing to Merry and Pippin. Frodo was more his type, but of course, Frodo only had eyes for Gimli, and-- and, who was that?

Legolas pushed the door open just a little further, praying it wouldn't make a sound and reveal him. Luckily Merry and Pippin were too noisy themselves to have heard him. Merry pulled the sheet back and Legolas nearly fell over in his surprise. They had a girl. A female Hobbit. Only, she didn't seem to be quite conscious…

"Breakfast! Really, Pippin, isn't this better than breakfast?"

"Well, maybe. But what about second breakfast? Do you think this is better than second breakfast?"

"Perhaps I should taste her and find out."

"I've been waiting for you to do so…"

Legolas' eyes grew wider and wider as he watched the two Hobbits caress the unconscious third. Maybe he ought to tiptoe back down the stairs, go to sleep by the fire, and pretend that none of this ever happened. The problem with that was, all the goings on had him undeniably aroused. Unfortunately, he was going to have to suffer with that arousal, since his choices were so limited. Crawling into bed with two Hobbits was one thing -- crawling in with three was out of the question. Nothing in Middle Earth would induce him to go back to Frodo's (assuming Gimli was still there) and the last choice was pleasuring himself alone in the woods.

Finally Legolas slunk back down the stairs, glad at least that Merry and Pippin were far too involved in their games to have heard him. Aching, he slipped into the great room, eager for the hollow warmth of the fire…but standing before it was the last thing he ever expected to see: a female Elf.