Prophet (a LOTR fanfic)

Southward

Leaving Rivendell was probably one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. The comforts of home called to me, even after we had left Imladris far behind us.

Soon, we were walking along vast plains, with only bushes and spindly trees as a reprieve from the sun.

"I don't believe I ever got your name." I looked up, startled, and saw Legolas walking right beside me. It was the second day into our travels, and this was the first time the elven prince had really spoken to me.

"Im Mormeril eston." I said, bowing my head and turning my face away from him, trying to busy myself by examining the ruins of a castle we were passing by. Gimli spluttered behind me, trying to pronounce my name.

"confound it! how am I supposed to say that elvish nonsense?" I turned and smiled at Gimli.

"You may call me Rose, master dwarf." Gimli looked down at his feet, and I could swear there was a tinge of red hiding under his beard.

"Black Rose." Legolas whispered, and my eyes snapped to his.

"What?"

"Your name." He stared straight into my eyes. "No rose is without it's thorns." He gave me a faint smile and my stomach knotted up. Damn it.

Thankfully, I didn't speak with Legolas for the rest of our travels that day, but he always seemed to linger in my peripheral vision.

When night came, we stopped in a large grove of trees, a welcome sight on this barren landscape. We all settled down uneasily, each member of the fellowship falling asleep, until only Gandalf and I remained awake. I sat next to the fire, my weapons arranged neatly beside me, staring into the flickering flames.

"Is there really any purpose to my presence here?" I asked the wizard in a whisper, trying not to wake the others. He stopped puffing on his pipe for a moment and considered my question.

"Everyone has a purpose, be it big or small." I sighed at Gandalf's cryptic words.

"But does it really matter? I mean, I only endanger this mission more," I looked over at his troubled face. "I could change something so drastically that the future could be ruined, and everything could turn out wrong. I could end up doing more harm than good, I could kill someone who was meant to live-" Gandalf chuckled and my gaze on him hardened. Was he really laughing at this? It was a serious issue that had been plaguing my mind for many nights now.

"No matter how many stones are dropped in a pond, the water always becomes still. Time will sort itself out in due course. Now worry no more, and get some rest, my dear."

Grudgingly, I followed the old wizard's advice and slept, though I tossed and turned for hours until admitting defeat.

I sat up, glancing over at the embers of our dying fire. Gandalf was still awake, in much the same place he was before, and still puffing on his pipe. The sky was dark, so I guessed there was at least a few more hours until the sun rose.

I climbed to my feet and stretched before turning and walking into the surrounding trees. I stopped only to call over my shoulder to Gandalf.

"I'll find more firewood." He didn't respond, so I assumed he heard and I continued into the wood.

Slowly, I combed the ground, looking for any loose tinder to take back for the fire; I didn't dare cut any branches from the trees.

"What are you doing out so late." Startled, I dropped nearly an armful of hard-won leaves and sticks to the ground and grabbed for my dagger, discovering nothing but empty air. I cursed, remembering I had left it by the fire.