𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖆

Chapter Nine: Blue

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At the foot of the Misty Mountains, where the ground began to incline, we set up camp. This would be our last night on the western side of the Mountains. After that, we would have to weather extreme cold, and deep, nearly unsurpassable snow. The mere thought of the treck put us all at unease, as we stared up at the path we'd yet to face, at the looming, and dark body of the Mountain we'd yet to scale. We all sat sort of scattered about. Aragorn sat beside me; we'd taken up a boulder overlooking the entire campsite. He sat cross-legged, his hands clasped together, his back a slight arch. I stretched my legs out so that they hung limply over the edge of the boulder as I watched the others with a careful eye.

Sam and Frodo sat by the tree that had assumed the role of Bill's post for the evening. They seemed happy, reminiscing about something that brought a rare smile to their faces. Gimli, Merry, Pippin, and Boromir sat around the fire, as Gimli proceeded to tell what I could only assume was some legendary, nigh-impossible, slightly, if not remarkably exaggerated, tale of battle. Regardless, the others found him a riot. Legolas and Gandalf stood nearer the base of the Mountain, the elven-prince's back was straight, arms folded, and the old wizard leaned on his staff. They spoke of the pass through the Mountains, their voices hushed.

I found my gaze pulled back to Aragorn, the distant, warm light of the fire, entwined with the pale, ghostly one of the moon, made for a dim glow on his face, illuminating his bright, cool eyes. Without much warning, he turned to face me and I quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise to my face. I felt his gaze burning into my side as it remained fixed on me. Suddenly, he spoke, his voice mellow. Soothing.

"You surprised me today," he said, "All of us, I think."

"Did I?"

"I expected you were trained, but I failed to anticipate you were a match for the skill of Legolas Greenleaf," he said, amusement in his voice and a grin upturning the corner of his mouth.

"Expectations, anticipations, and first impressions, I find, are often very wrong," I answered, letting a smile escape.

"That they are," he nodded, "Needless to say," he directed his gaze to Boromir, "You surely impressed him, though he'll clearly never admit it."

We both chuckled, each having experienced Boromir's stubbornness. As my eyes wandered the camp, I found my gaze once again pulled towards the Mountain, and my worrying eyes followed it up to its peak, swallowed in angry grey clouds that spit torrents of snow onto the land below. I shivered.

"It will be hard," Aragorn said to me, placing a hand on my forearm, "But not impossible."

I turned back to look at him and our eyes met. He held my gaze and my heartbeat slowly sped up. Suddenly, a noise tore my eyes away from him. Clearing his throat, Gandalf stood before us, his bushy brows furrowed. A small smile curled his lips, and his eyes bounced between me and Aragorn.

"Give us a moment?" he asked, his eyes finally at rest on Aragorn.

"Of course," he slid off the boulder and was promptly replaced by Gandalf, who took up a cross-legged seat beside me.

He removed his pipe from his satchel, fumbling with it for a moment, before he finally managed a quick spark, lighting it. He placed it to his lips, taking a long, deep inhale. He paused a moment, then released a great puff of smoke. I didn't speak.

"You were never one to bear a grudge, Elena," he spoke softly after a while.

"Are you trying to blame me for harbouring resentment? Very much deserved resentment, towards you?"