We spent the remainder of the day walking east, toward Mt.Caradhras. Its intimidating peak loomed above the other surrounding mountains, seemingly so nearby, yet after the entire day of walking, we barely made it to the foothills by nightfall.
Finally, we stopped for the night. The Man, who had introduced himself as Boromir, built a small fire with the assistance of the rascals, Pippin and Merry. Gandalf and Aragorn conversed quietly at the edge of the fire's glow, and Gimli sat down a short distance away, smoking his pipe. Samwise knelt by the fire, cooking supper and occasionally sampling directly out of the pan. Meanwhile, Frodo sat a short ways away, gazing off into the darkness, his mind elsewhere. And Legolas was in the shadows somewhere doing Eru knows what.
I was sitting a comfortable distance from the fire, and curious to see what had been packed for me, I opened my satchel and began to rummage.
I pulled out a package of lembas bread, two rolls of bandages, and a simple medical kit. Then my fingertips grazed a cold, smooth surface. My hand closed around the compass and I pulled it out.
The casing was gold in color, with a design of silver leaves intertwined and wrapping around the face of the compass. The needle was designed as an Elvish arrow, and the background was either black or very dark blue-I couldn't tell which in the low light. In place of an N for north, was an intricately-designed star. But, to my utter disappointment, the beautiful needle wandered aimlessly, pointing at nothing in particular, and certainly not north. Disgusted at the beautifully worthless trinket, I tossed it toward the fire.
A hand snaked out and caught the compass before it could touch the flames, and Legolas eyed me, his wary expression hinting at curiosity. His gaze wandered to the compass, then back to me.
"You can have it," I said. "It doesn't work."
Legolas frowned and turned his attention back to what he held. Absentmindedly, he seated himself beside me, turning the compass over to examine the back. Peeking over his shoulder, I could barely make out some Elvish lettering.
"What does it say?" I asked quietly.
He shot me a somewhat irritated glance, then began to read in an enchanting low voice, "'Where the heart leads, the feet will follow. To know not the desires of the heart, is to wander in shadow. But when the heart leads true, the feet do not falter. Strength will not fail you, nor will your courage fade.'"
I gazed at Legolas as he read. The harsh glow of the firelight washed his face in gold, while the faint moonlight touched his pale hair with silver. And as he murmured the last phrase, I was suddenly caught in his stunning gaze.
He blinked, ending the moment. "This is a Foragar-a compass pointing it's holder to the deepest desire of their heart. I thought these were but myth..." He looked down at the compass in his hand, and I followed his wondering gaze. Unlike when I'd held it, the arrow pin was pointed rigidly in one direction.
At me.
My eyes rounded, and I looked up at Legolas. His eyebrows shot up, and he scrambled away from me, hunching over the compass for a moment. Then he exhaled. "There, you see?" he said, scooting over to my side again. "The pin hasn't moved. It's pointing east. Toward Mt.Caradhras."
He spoke the truth. The pin hadn't been pointing at me, after all.
Legolas pressed the compass into my palm. "I would not rob you of such a treasure."
I gazed at the remarkable tool in my hand. The pin wandered again, and I sighed. Then I glanced toward the peak of the mountain. How could Legolas's deepest desire be to scale its imposing height? He didn't seem entirely convinced of that, either. But all that lay east of Caradhras and the MistyMountains was Erebor, and...
"Mirkwood," I mused, glancing at Legolas. "Mirkwood lies east of here."
He gave me a sharp glance. Standing, he said stiffly, "Good evening." Then he walked away.
My eyes fell once more to the compass, and I tucked it into my pocket. I couldn't deny the little throb in my chest at Legolas's determination to show he did not care for me. But, I did not join this fellowship for romance, or to flirt. I had joined to find adventure, and companionship. And, I decided as I nestled down into the chilly grass, without romance getting in the way, I might find it here, with these people.
Legolas's POV
I observed this strange girl from the shadows as she quietly put the Foragar in her pocket and settled into the grass, occasionally fluffing a certain area up much the way a cat would. My heart was still recovering, slowing to its average rate, after that minor incident. Because for one horrifying moment...
I thought it was her.
But, no, it was merely pointing further east-toward Caradhras, or Mirkwood, as she had mentioned.
Mordor, why did she have to be so observant?
At length, her breaths slowed. Her final position of rest was on her stomach, her face pillowed on her arms. Her shoulders, broad for one as short as she, rose and fell rhythmically, and her wild, frizzy hair fanned out around her.
"Strange, is she not?"
I started. Never before had Aragorn succeeded in taking my by surprise. This must've just been a bad day for me. Training my expression into neutrality, I replied, "She is, indeed." We were silent for a moment, and when my friend offered no further information, I said, "You care for her."
Aragorn nodded slowly. "Not the way I care for Arwen-but yes. Eda is hard not to care for."
I bit back my scoff a millisecond too late. Aragorn shot me a mildly amused side glance. In a dry, sarcastic tone, I replied, "Indeed; she is nothing short of endearing."
He gave a low chuckle, his teeth flashing in the low light. "She cottons to some people better than others."
My gaze wandered to her small frame. She slept like one exhausted, like the end of Middle Earth wasn't nearly upon us. But awake, she was a snarky little ogre. She had a twisted little smirk that reeked of victory when she knew she'd won. Everything about her screamed rebellion, from the form-fitting trousers she wore to her improper behavior. And yet-
Aragorn laid a hand on my shoulder, startling me yet again. "What troubles you, my friend?"
I swallowed, briefly meeting his attentive gaze. Aragorn rarely asked me such direct and pointed questions, but when he did, he never let go until I'd answered.
"I-it's just-" I closed my eyes, that too-familiar throb in my heart surfacing. "She reminds me of an elleth from long ago."
"Tauriel."
I winced, and nodded silently. I had told Aragorn of my feelings for...for her...shortly after he and I began traveling together. Though, frankly, I was surprised he remembered. My heart had broken sixty years ago-nearly a lifetime for a Man. Yet, Aragorn was always considerate of those around him, even when he was barely of age.
With a sigh, I said, "When she left for the Undying Lands, I thought my heart would heal. I thought the Valar would grant me another chance at love, and I thought I would learn to be content."
I met Aragorn's gaze, and my eyes began to mist. "I am not content. My heart lies cold in my chest, and with every reminder of her, I can barely breathe for the longing." I blinked, swallowing the emotion rising in my throat.
Aragorn was silent for a long moment, shifting his gaze out to Eda and allowing me to compose myself. After a long moment, he murmured, "How long do you plan to remain in Middle Earth?"
Perceptive, as always. I looked away. "Through the end of this quest."
A long pause. Then Aragorn placed his hand on my shoulder once more. "You have been my good friend for the majority of my life. And I will miss you dearly. But I will not begrudge you for desiring peace."
I turned and met his saddened gaze. "Thank you, my friend."
He nodded quietly, then left me alone with my thoughts, and my ghosts.