As he walked up the path, he saw that some of the others had arrived. Two horses, one white, and one black, waited out front. These, he knew, belonged to Legolas and Ciendriel. Sam paused at the door and knocked. After a few minutes, he knocked again. Finally he nervously turned the handle and poked his nose inside.

"Frodo?"

"There's nothing worse than the stench of an unwashed, hungover Dwarf," Ciendriel said in a light tone. She appeared to be serving breakfast to Frodo, Legolas and Gimli.

"Except perhaps Elven cooking," Gimli grumbled back at her.

Legolas and Frodo exchanged a helpless look but didn't say anything.

"Tomorrow you can make your own breakfast," she said shortly.

"With pleasure," Gimli snarled. Silently, Sam groaned.

"Please," said Legolas, "Let us all eat breakfast in peace."

To Sam, he seemed to be the only one with any sense. Frodo was sitting next to Gimli looking exhausted, as if he were nowhere near ready to make a long journey. Sam went to him and laid a concerned hand on his shoulder.

"Are you all right, Mr. Frodo? You look as if you haven't slept a wink."

"I'm fine, Sam. Really," Frodo said unconvincingly. Sam just shook his head. He turned to Legolas, whom he recognized as the leader of this trip to Mirkwood.

"Are we not ready to set off?"

"As soon as the others arrive," Legolas said.

"Would you like some breakfast, Sam?" asked Ciendriel. Sam gazed up at her. She was so beautiful as to be incomprehensible to him. Female Elves were almost too much for Sam. She smiled, and he blushed.

"Yes, please, ma'am," he said, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to. She set him down a plate and filled it with some sort of delicate-looking egg dish.

"Don't bother, Sam. It's awful," Gimli said, glaring at Ciendriel.

"If that is so, why do you continue to eat it?" Legolas said. Sam detected a hint of impatience in the normally temperate Elf's voice, but he couldn't help chuckling at the words as he tasted his breakfast. It was no Hobbit Porridge but it wasn't bad at all. He glanced at Ciendriel to see if she flared up at the Dwarf's words, but when Legolas rose to her defense she simply smiled and refilled Gimli's plate.

"He is right. Tis not my best cooking, for we don't generally cook it with chicken eggs in Ingra. However, I made do with what could be found in Frodo's kitchen, which he generously allowed me use of," said the female Elf. She was dressed in a similar style to Legolas, in leggings and a tunic rather than a gown, though there was a softer look to her clothing than to his.

"I think it's wonderful," Sam said. He hadn't meant to sound so enraptured… Frodo turned his head to look at him, but before Sam could say anything else, the door burst open and the three other Hobbits arrived.

Angelica. Sam sighed as he looked at her. She seemed even more of a fairy-tale to him than Ciendriel. At least she dressed like a female. Maybe the journey would afford him the opportunity to speak with her, if Merry and Pippin would ever let her out of their clutches.

But come to think of it, she didn't seem to mind being in their clutches. She seemed a missing third part of them which had been recently recovered. Sam watched in a haze as the three of them descended upon the breakfast table. The bright chatter of their words was lost upon him. They were a comic tableaux, like watching a juggling act. They seemed to be devouring what was left of the eggs, and Pippin was heading towards the kitchen to make something else, while Merry tried to convince Frodo to join him.

"Please, there is no time. We must leave," Legolas said, stopping the hungry Hobbits. "This is a journey that will take many days and many nights."

"You've been spending too much time with Aragorn," Merry said frankly.

"Another hour won't hurt anything," said Pippin.

Gimli banged his fist on the table. "If Legolas says we go now, we go now."

"I'm surprised you're up at all," Merry said.

"And why is that?" said Gimli suspiciously.

"We thought you'd be too worn out from last night's poetry recitation," Pippin said.

Sam frowned. He had no idea what they were talking about. He got up and started cleaning the plates off of the table. Legolas seemed to be turning a pale shade of pink and he was motioning for Merry to be silent. Ciendriel looked as if she were about to laugh, and she, too, got up and started helping Sam.

"What the blazes are you talking about?" Gimli demanded. "I didn't recite any poetry last night! I hate the stuff!"

"Oh, but you did! A bloody long poem, too. I bet I can still remember bits of it," Merry said thoughtfully.

"I don't believe a word of it! Next you'll be saying I was making love to the Elves!" Gimli got up and stalked out of Bag-End.

"I've never seen a pink Elf before," Angelica declared to Legolas.

"Won't be the last time, I imagine," said Pippin, biting into an apple.

"Let it be, little Hobbit," Ciendriel said gently. Sam looked at Legolas. For a moment he seemed grateful, but then he too leapt to his feet and went outside.

"Are we leaving, then?" Sam said, trying to look sternly at Merry and Pippin but failing as they ignored him completely.

"I have to see to the cart," Legolas replied as the door closed behind him. Sam looked at Frodo.

"Cart?"

"The only way to travel," Frodo said, and he smiled for the first time that morning.

***

Four long days and four even longer nights had passed. Legolas was living in alternating states of misery and ecstasy, which he tried to keep hidden deep inside, as was his custom. The days were long and tedious. They were traveling faster than they would have had they been walking, but not much. Frodo had arranged a cart for the Hobbits to ride in, pulled by a draft horse. He and Sam took turns at driving it, while Merry, Pippin, and Angelica rode in the back. Originally the plan had called for Gimli to ride with them, but he had absolutely refused, and so traveled on Legolas’ horse with him.

Ciendriel rode as far ahead of the cart as she could, while Legolas fell back behind it, mostly to keep her and Gimli from their continual battle with words. At least Gimli had given up his drinking while they were traveling, though Merry and Pippin still used every opportunity to call Legolas a “stinking rose weed” -- apparently the only phrase they knew in Elvish. They had also composed a song incorporating many verses of Gimli’s “forgotten poem” which they sang around the campfire each night. Angelica had taken to singing it with them, and he was certain he had heard Ciendriel whistling it once... Gimli seemed completely unfazed by this behavior, leading Legolas to wonder if he truly did NOT recall the night at the stream.

And so Legolas said little through the day, except to steer the course of their path. At night, everything was different. Traveling was always dangerous. Bands of Orcs and Goblins still roamed the lands. They made camp at sunset, and took turns keeping watch. At least, Legolas, Ciendriel, Gimli, and Sam each took a watch. Frodo had meant to, but Sam had insisted on taking over for him and would not be swayed by anyone. Legolas worried for Frodo. He always looked pale and tired, and not fit for such an arduous journey.

At night, everything changed. When the others found sleep, Ciendriel would come to sit by Legolas at his watch, and in return he stayed through hers, until Sam would come to relieve them both. Sam never commented on finding them together, and for that Legolas was grateful.

Together, Legolas and Ciendriel spoke quietly in Elvish. It was a joy to hear his native tongue spoken with her sweet accent, just slightly different from any of the other elves he knew. They talked of so many different things, and he debated telling her he was the Prince of Mirkwood. After all, it would be apparent when they arrived. But he wasn’t ready to spoil the freshness between them just yet.

He wished the closeness they shared during those quiet hours would pass into the day, but it always seemed to be out of reach when the others were awake. On this night, the fifth night, he had chosen for the watch a large rock just close enough to the others that he might return quickly at any sign of danger, but far enough away to insure that he and Ciendriel had some semblance of privacy. He wondered what she might do if he attempted to kiss her tonight. He had been wanting to, very much.

He wanted more than that.

They had made camp by the edge of a wood, and as he took his watch, he could hear Merry, Pippin, and Angelica planning a rendezvous of their own. He debated stopping them from going deeper into the wood, for safety’s sake, but they hadn’t had any trouble yet, and he selfishly wanted this time for his own attempted conquest. He didn’t sense any danger in this area. He hoped they wouldn’t encounter any at all. Things had been quiet all over Middle Earth for some time...

He knew that was bound to change, sooner or later. But not tonight.

Ciendriel joined him on the rock so silently that he found himself impressed by her stealth. She sat quite close to him, nearly touching, and when she spoke she leaned forward to slip the words right into his ear.

“Can you hear that?”

“I’m amazed that they haven’t woken Sam and Frodo.”

“Or worse, Gimli.”

“He sleeps like the dead,” Legolas said. “But Ciendriel, must I give up hope that you and he will ever see eye to eye?”

“I fear so, sweet Legolas. I am far taller.”

He laughed, knowing she made a pun, but it still made him sad. “He is a good friend. He fought at my back many times.”

“I know. And I am glad for it."

"Many elves fell at Helm’s Deep. Without him, perhaps I might have been one.”

She looked frightened at his words. “Death is little known with my people.”

“Then be glad. I fear I know it all too well.” He thought, in particular, of two who had been lost to him, one at Helm’s Deep, one before. Haldir and Boromir. One Elf and one Man, both of whom he had loved.

Loved, and hated. They had both chosen him, hunted him, taken him, and now they haunted him.

No...no. Loved.

“I am sorry for you, then, Legolas Greenleaf,” she said, and she put her long, cool fingers against the side of his cheek. He closed his eyes with the simple pleasure of it. But closing his eyes amplified the sounds that came from deep in the woods...

***

“Didn’t you bring a blanket, Merry?”

“I was trying to bring as little as possible.”

“Don’t worry, boys. I brought a blanket.”

“Thank goodness you’re so much more clever than Merry, Angelica.”

“And prettier than Pippin.”

“That hurts, Merry, it truly does.”

Angelica Headstrong spread the blanket over the mossiest looking patch of ground she could find. When it seemed Merry and Pippin would argue, she pulled off her dress, silencing them both instantly. After a stunned moment of silence, the two of them started stripping eagerly, Merry hopping around on one big, hairy foot trying to get his belt off, and Pippin getting his head stuck in his shirt for a few moments. She giggled at the sight of it.

Pippin finished first, and flung himself on Angelica. He kissed her, his hands going immediately to her breasts, the thumbs teasing at her nipples. She could feel his excitement as he pressed up against her. She adored his eagerness, his earnesty. Merry slammed into him from behind and knocked all three Hobbits down in a pile. Angelica’s legs were forced apart as Pippin entered her, and he cried out as Merry entered him, albeit accidentally.

“Pippin, I think you’ve got the best deal here,” Merry said pragmatically. He began to move and Angelica gasped for breath...but she liked this. Liked being part of this. Part of her wondered that she should enjoy it so much, so shamelessly, and she wondered again about her past.

The wondering was brief-lived as Pippin kissed her again...and Merry moved the entire stack of Hobbits, and all thought was banished as pleasure took hold...

***

“Legolas?” Ciendriel said, causing him to open his eyes. “Ah...the Hobbits...”

“They’re only making love,” Legolas said. Her eyes widened. “Didn’t you know that?”

A pale pink tint rose in Ciendriel’s cheeks and he smiled. “Um...”

“Now it is my turn to see a pink Elf.”

“I just don’t understand how... that is to say... there are three of them, and two are male, so...”

“Are you so innocent to lovemaking?” He put his hand on her chin, tilting it so she had to look him in the eye.

“I confess that I have never made love to three Hobbits, yes,” she said, but then she smiled. She was teasing.

“Nor have I, to be honest,” he said.

“I am not innocent,” she said gently, “Nor am I well-used. But I suppose I am ignorant in the ways of Hobbits... I simply fear for Angelica. Males are few with my kind... they are known to be brutal, outside of Ingra. Hobbits are a gentle folk, but still...”

“Surely you do not think Merry or Pippin would harm her?” Legolas realized that her fear ran deep, and he wanted to soothe this away from her.

“Well, no... I like them very much, and she seems to...belong with them...”

“Fear not, then.”

She nodded, looking out into the night. “You’re wise, Legolas.”

“Do you fear me?”

She turned slowly back to him. “In some ways.”

“What ways?”

Ciendriel bent towards him and pressed her mouth to his. Legolas sighed against her, the kiss setting him aflame. He moved to put his arms around her, to draw her closer, but she drew back.

“I fear this,” she said. “I fear what you make me feel...”