Lapsus Memoriae [Rávamë's Bane: Book 1]

Part III : Chapter 21 ~ A Little Drop of Poison

In that time, my curiosity had almost got the better of me. I'd been very tempted to cheat our bargain and ask either Aragorn or Haldir what the words mîr nín meant, but in the end I'd decided against it. Half of me wanted to respect the fact that he simply wasn't ready to tell me, but the other half was really curious about the reaction the other elf of our company had given when I'd asked.

His pointy ears had turned pink for heaven sake.

"Ow!" A yelp of pain came from me as my toes were suddenly flattened under Boromir's much heavier boot.

"Sorry!" For a second, his smooth-faced combat facade dropped, leaving him looking genuinely horrified that he'd hurt me. It was almost cute — considering he'd just been unapologetically swinging a sword at my head. I grimaced, hopping on one foot for a second and waving a hand to show I was fine.

"Pay attention," Aragorn reprimanded, and I couldn't tell if he was addressing me or my sparring partner. "You'll have a limb taken off if you don't keep your wits about you."

I gave him flat look over one shoulder, and he returned it with a raised eyebrow. I serenely chose not spit a wiseass retort in his general direction. Baby steps on the road of progress.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to occasionally point out when I've done something right."

"Praise will not keep you alive when an orc brute is attempting to take your head off your shoulders," Aragorn replied smoothly and without a trace of sarcasm. He heaved a long sigh as I dodged another swing, clearly still too slow for his liking. "Either way, it matters little now. We shall be departing this place soon, regardless of your progress."

"What?" I blurted, losing focus for half a second.

The pommel of Boromir's sword clipped my left shoulder and I spun in a flailing pinwheel, falling inelegantly onto my butt in the grass. Boromir looked alarmed and gave me an apologetic look, but I waved him off, looking expectantly at Aragorn along with Gimli and Legolas.

"So, we're finally to leave?" Gimli asked, sounding more disappointed than I'd expected him to be. Aragorn just nodded.

"Tomorrow at first light. We will have a day and a night to prepare, but I believe we have lingered here more than long enough," he said, getting up from his seat on the flagstones and extinguishing his pipe with an ominous hiss. "Welcome and needed as our rest may have been, we cannot afford to tarry here forever."

The other three men glanced at one another, but didn't say anything in response. We all knew we would have to leave the Golden Wood eventually, but it was a subject no one had been keen to bring up, save for in passing. Even so, Aragorn — our de-facto leader in Gandalf's absence — was right as always. We'd been here almost a month, and I doubted the world outside was getting any brighter with Sauron's power amassing. We couldn't afford to sit idly any longer, but that didn't mean any of us were looking forward to leaving.

I pushed myself up on the grass into a sitting position. My right hand stung a bit where I'd scraped it on some stones.

"Have you told Frodo and the others yet?" I asked, thinking immediately to how saddened the hobbits would be to depart the wood. All four of them had grown very fond of the easy, worry-free routine of life in the here and now.

Aragorn shook his head at me, his face mirroring a similar feeling to mine.

"Not yet. We still need to decide on our course after we leave the safety of the forest. I will need to speak with Lord Celeborn on the matter," he exhaled, stuffing his pipe into a pocket with a weary expression. "I shall tell the halflings. I'd suggest the rest of us begin preparations for our departure."