The Unforgiven { Legolas x OC - LotR Fanfiction}

Approaching the Nine

The day was young, the fellowship trekked south of Rivendell through the land of Deep Valley on turbulent waters. To their left, the misty mountains rose sharply. Gandalf, who was walking first in line noted "We must hold this course west of the Misty Mountains." He paused, breathing deep and gazing at the misty mountain.

"How many days of walk, Gandalf?" complained Gimli, who appeared behind Legolas. He gazed out before him with a strange light in his eyes.

"Forty days at least. If our luck holds, the gab of Rohan will still be open to us." Gandalf informed him.

Merry, started counting and mumbling to himself "That would last us for three... Maybe four days."

"Merry, where are we going? They didn't answer us that?" Pippin whispered, trying to have Merry notice him. But Merry was busy counting if their food would last them for forty days.

Ethir hiked for a while last on the line behind Merry and Pippin with unseeing eyes, as if visiting in distant memory or listening to the sounds she had forgotten for a while. The days she spent in Rivendell, had her already taste a different world from the one she was living in. She was surprised with herself, but not relieved.

She looked at the two hobbits that were ahead of her. They would not hurry unnecessarily, they were nonetheless nimble and deft in their movements. Shorter than her, shorter either than the dwarf. Although, there they were taking part in something that was beyond their limit. All three just follow the one that was called Frodo, on a suicide mission. Never in her mortal life had she come across such an act. She had seen orcs follow out of fear or greed.

Indeed Greed. Most of Saruman's men were followed out of Greed, and few out of fear. Even humans. Who said that humans were any different when it came to power and gold? Like the son of Gálmód, he was a native man of Rohan. He joined the service of Saruman not many winters ago. He worked as a spy and helped Saruman with his spells. She wondered if he had succeeded in weakening Théoden and his kingdom. Gríma Wormtongue was his name, the king's chief adviser. A worthless spy.

Maybe, he brought the white wizard exactly what he wanted. But he had not a will of his own. He was not far from a lizard. Although, Ethir was part of Saruman's force. At least before fleeing with Gandalf, and being announced a traitor. She was nothing like Grima or Saruman. She didn't yearn for gold or power like those two would. She wanted to be able to stand her ground. Power? True, she liked the power. But not the power to rule others. Not, that kind of power. She wanted power to evolve her fighting technique and expand her skills of archery or swordplay. To unfold and unleash her abilities and combine them.

Now, that she only witnessed a small part of the hobbits more questions were rising inside her. Those questions weren't in a hurry. They were deft movements like the hobbits. She shook her head, puzzled, denying to spend any more of her thoughts on them. They were confusing her in a way. And she didn't like to be confused. She always wanted to be sure about herself. Sure about the emptiness and coldness to her. It was better that way. It was safer. Why would she think unnecessary things?

She carried on behind the hobbits, sometimes further back where the pony was. The poor thing was carrying all the hobbit's belongings. From clothing, food, and pots. Other times she would walk before it. Either way, she could see all nine of the fellowship.

She leaned in front, placing the lower part of her coat aside, so she stepped could be wider. Then again her mind was rolling on its own. Try to read the rest of the companions. Boromir, eldest son of Denethor. She had already noted him in the council. There was not much that got her attention. Only his debate with others about the 'one ring'. But that didn't surprise her.