.:Chapter One:.

The golden Sun rose steadily in the sky over the White City of Minas Tirith, glinting upon the silver announcement trumpets as they were held in the hands of the City Heralds upon its walls. It was the beginning of a new day, and of another new beginning.

The beginning of an adventure…

“Thank you very much for putting up with us this last month Aragorn, but I am afraid we really must be going,” said Legolas, placing his light pack upon his shoulders.

“So soon?” replied Aragorn. “Well, I hope you return with good news. In the meanwhile, I am confident that my cooks shall be glad of the rest!” he laughed.

Gimli huffed indignantly. “And just what is that supposed to mean laddie?!” he queried.

“Well,” said Aragorn. “They will no longer have to make a three course meal in the morning for one…” looking at his Dwarven friend. “…and then a meal lighter than the children eat for the other!” he finished, switching his gaze to Legolas. They laughed together.

“Well, I’m glad you’ll be pleased to see the back of us,” said the Elf. “I was worried that we were going to have to come back!” He dodged a playful punch from the King of Gondor.

“You two would not be thinking of leaving without saying goodbye to your weary hostess?” whispered a soft voice from the doorway. They turned to see Arwen standing there, radiant in a long white dress that flowed around her like a breeze. She waddled over to where the trio were, and stopped beside her husband.

“My dear, you should be resting,” said Aragorn, placing a comforting arm around his spose, his voice full of a warm concern.

“Not when two of my friends are about to set off without disclosing a return date!” replied Arwen swiftly. “I wish to know so that we are not both lying awake for nights on end wondering of their safety.”

Gimli smiled. Arwen had become increasingly over-protective of all three of them since the beginning of her pregnancy; a maternal instinct that was being put to overly good use. One incident he could recall was when Legolas cut himself lightly on his knife as he whittled some new arrow heads. Barely a scratch had been his words. Arwen however had insisted she be allowed to clean it for fear of infection, and it had given himself and Aragorn much amusement as they listened to their friend’s yelps as they echoed through the door. He had then emerged scowling, a white bandage rolled from wrist to elbow, muttering under his breath. They were now unable to go anywhere without telling her.

“Now, why haven’t you told me the purpose of this little escapade of yours?” she asked. Uneasy glances were exchanged between the friends; who would tell her?

“Come along now!” she ushered, growing impatient.

“Well, we were… just going… up to the mountains in the East…” mumbled Gimli, barely coherent.

“Towards Mordor?!” cried Arwen, shocked. Her tone suddenly changed to a threatening bark. “Why?!”

“Because… because…!” stammered Gimli. “You tell her laddie!” he hissed, elbowing Legolas hard in the ribs.

“Ow!” yelped the Elf. “I mean…” he sighed, admitting defeat and opting to tell her the truth. He though over his choice of words, and then began. “There have been rumours that a small band of Orcs has been sighted in that area. We decided that we should investigate.” He winced as Arwen frowned furiously.

“So the pair of you are off to play the heroes again I expect?! Never mind the last time you decided to ‘investigate’, as you so lightly put it! What was it again, pray, do remind me!”

“It wasn’t that bad…” stated Gimli.

“Oh? So you believe that a broken arm is ‘not that bad’ do you?!”

Gimli immediately fell silent. Legolas made the grave mistake of sniggering slightly, and had to contend with the wrath of Gondor’s Queen.

Rounding on the younger Elf, her eyes were blazing with fury. “Just what are you giggling at?!” she demanded. “As far as I can recall, you were not much better off!”

Legolas shuffled his feet slightly. “Well Arwen, I…” He sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

It was at this point that Aragorn decided to step in and save the situation. “My dear,” he whispered softly, embracing his wife and turning her around. “Are you sure you would not wish to rest?” He stared deeply into her eyes for a moment, and then allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder. With Arwen distracted for a moment, he looked over to his two friends and mouthed the words “Go on!”

Gimli tiptoed quietly out of the stable door into the fresh sunlight. Legolas followed close behind, creeping silently beside Arod.

“Dina mellonamin,” he whispered, smiling slightly. “Ten’ lye rima i’peniel en nebriniel he pundil!” [Silence my friend,… For we run the risk of incurring her wrath!]

Arwen stared lovingly into Aragorn’s eyes, lost in the deep inescapable whirlpools of devotion. However, she was rudely interrupted by the sound of thundering hooves. She whirled round as hastily as she could in her current state and was met with the sight of both Elf and Dwarf making a sly get-away on the back of their horse. She called after them;

“Just do not look for trouble like you usually do!”

She received a sarcastic twin chime of “We won’t!” back over the wind as they slowly shrank smaller and smaller into the distance, towards the rising Sun. The she-Elf then took it upon herself to round upon the husband who she, just short seconds ago, was besotted by.

“I take it that you all were practising that all morning, am I correct?” she queried. Aragorn smiled gently.

“Do not fret. Our wayward friends know better than to cross you melath nin,” he whispered, before planting a kiss on her rosebud lips. “I am sure they will be fine.”

~*~*~*~

“I do not care what you say Master Elf, for even though we have ridden on this accursed beast for near to three years now, I still dislike being jostled around like a sack of Shire potatoes!” grumbled Gimli gruffly.

“Gimli, please!” cried Legolas jokingly. “You have insulted this poor steed long enough!” As if in agreement with his master, Arod snorted and shook his head approvingly. “You see!” laughed the Elf. He ignored the moody moan of his companion.

“Besides,” he added with a grin, “as for the entire vision of the potato sack? Well mellonamin, it is an easy mistake to make!”

The white stallion ran with the wind as they made their way across the plains. Above them the mountains that marked the border between Gondor and the Black Land loomed, dark storm clouds whirling high above them, painting a picture of a deep dark nightmare.

“Remind me again why we just walk into these situations?” asked Gimli in jest.

“Because we happen to be the two most insane beings in Middle-Earth mellonamin. After all, if we did not, who would?” replied Legolas.

~*~*~*~

“I think it is high time that we stopped for a rest Legolas,” said Gimli. “After all, this is roughly the area in which those dirty, disgusting, filthy things have been spotted.”

The Elf whispered something softly into Arod’s ear that Gimli could not pick up, and they stopped gently. The Dwarf then took this moment of sweet reprise to survey his surroundings.

The ground was black and parched, showing years of ill use and drought. The few trees that dotted the dark hills were knarled and twisted, void of all beauty that marked the trees of Lothlorien or Ithilien. The clouds that they had glimpsed from far off were now swirling directly above them, with the occasional rumble of thunder.

“What a warm, hospitable place,” sighed Legolas. “We can camp under those trees over there. We’ll continue again tomorrow, yes?”

Gimli agreed with both the statement about their new surroundings and their plans, and so they set about building a small fire with which to keep warm in this otherwise cold, cruel land.

They did not notice the sunken, sickly eyes gazing out at them from the shadows…

~*~*~*~

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