Divided Hearts (a Legauriel novella) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 4 : The Villager Quest

Neither the chieftain nor Legolas was pleased with Tauriel's request to join the Dúnedain. Both claimed she wasn't ready to take on such duties, but Tauriel wasn't about to let them decide her fate. Tauriel bargained with them to let her observe for a day while her leg healed. The chief and Legolas agreed, sounding very relieved.

She returned to Legolas's tent, but refused to lie again in his bed. (The very thought warmed her cheeks.) Instead, she sat in the tent entrance and drew in the sand with her remaining dagger. She tried. No one can say she didn't try to stay still for a day. But she could draw only so many patterns in the dust before she grew restless.

She tried distracting herself by studying the camp before her. Motionless she sat staring. Every passerby that crossed before her tent, every soldier carving an arrow fell under her scrutiny. Every quarry has a routine, Tauriel recited mentally, recalling her training, and every routine has a purpose and a destination. Maybe someone would inadvertently unveil some inner working of the camp's or the location of the Silmaril. She would find the connection between their behaviors and travels.

After a couple hours, she did see a connection. A surprising one. Each Dúnadan was looking at her. A small blush crept up her ears, and she shifted uncomfortably. True, the Dúnedain were being subtle, but one hunter couldn't fool another.

At first, Tauriel tightened her grip on her dagger as the old defensive nature rose like a fire growing in her belly. Even miles upon miles from my old life, I'm still gawked at and judged! How dare they judge me! They hardly know me! Her suspicions were only confirmed when she defiantly met the eyes of two soldiers walking near her only to see them wince under her sharp gaze. 

Without glancing down, she swiped her dagger irritably across her strange drawing. A grunt sounded from behind. Tauriel twisted her head around and saw an older Dúnadan, the one to whom Legolas had apologized. She sat tensed, her hand gripping her dagger.

The ranger smiled reassuringly, undaunted by her fierce gaze. "I had almost figured out what it was meant to be," he explained with a heavy wilderness accent. His eyes darted to the dust where Tauriel's picture had been. His disarming smile broke a piece of Tauriel's defenses. In his eyes she saw not judgment, only curiosity. She turned away and scanned the camp again. Had they really been judging her? Might they all have been just as curious as this older Ranger of the she-elf? Doesn't look like, Tauriel observed sarcastically, they receive many female visitors at all. 

Her train of thought was interrupted when the older Ranger walking away. "Ranger," she called out before she could stop herself. He pivoted and look down at her expectantly. Tauriel paused, inexplicably without words. As she stood unsteadily, she irritably expected him to offer to help her up, as if she couldn't do it herself. But he merely watched her without a word or gesture in her favor. In fact, he appeared to be subtly amused? Offended, Tauriel abruptly straightened her blouse. "One would have thought the Dúnedain possessed manners to aid a damsel."

The Ranger's shoulders jerked in silent laughter. "As if you wanted me to help you up," he bantered good-naturedly. With that he turned and strolled away into the woods, and something told Tauriel he was expecting her to follow. No, more like challenging her to keep up! Tauriel furrowed her brow and hobbled to catch up with him.

Tauriel trotted at his side, keeping his leisurely pace. She averted her gaze and tried to look bored. "You don't seem wary of me."

The Ranger lifted an eyebrow. "Should I be?"

Tauriel shrugged. "Your fellow rangers are."

"Why might that be?" He gave her a sideways glance, and Tauriel suddenly felt she was receiving a talking-to from a loving uncle. In a warm voice, the Ranger answered his own question. "Perhaps they are intimidated by your spirit."