The Forgotten Love ~A Faramir Love Story~

Chapter XX

 The Fellowship, still emotionally worn down from the Mines, ran as quickly as they could towards the woods of Lothlórien. They ran over jagged, rocky hills, through trickling streams and small, rushing rivers, across a thick, grassy plain, until they finally came to a halt under the leaves of a forest of tall, willowy trees.

"Stay close, young Hobbits!" Gimli warned as the entered the Wood. "They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods, an Elf-witch, of terrible power. All who look upon her, fall under her spell ...And are never seen again."

Boromir shook his head slightly, rolling his eyes as Gimli was clearly frightening the Halflings.
Sighing, he looked down at Gwen, who was still in his arms. Her appearance had changed very little, if not at all, since leaving Moria. Her face, no longer its usual smooth, olive complexion, was still the color of a white, starched sheet. Her eyes were opened wide, as if staring at some great commodity before her in fright. Her hands still clung limply to the sides of her cloak, every so often, pulling the sides of it more tightly around her, as if to shield her from whatever evil she saw before her.

Occasionally, and almost silently as so only he could hear, Gwen would call out for someone. Her raspy voice was laced with hurt, with fear, as she spoke that one word. This is what pained Boromir the most.

It pained him so, because she was calling for his brother.

"Well, here is one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily." The voice of the hot headed Gimli beat its way through Boromir's thoughts. "I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!"

As he spoke his cocky, prideful words, an arrow was notched before his face, pointing straight for his nose.

"Oh..." Gimli said slowly, as other bows appeared around the Fellowship, aimed and ready to shoot.

They looked around alarmingly as Elves appeared behind the bows, their eyes set in a cold, hard gaze upon the intruders.

A tall, golden-haired Elf, who appeared to be the leader, came out from behind the trees.
"The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark."

Gimli growled.

The Elven guards closed in around the group, offering no way to escape. Only when they were thoroughly surrounded did the golden-haired Elf make his way toward them, speaking in the Elvish tongue.

"Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion." He spoke first to the Elf in the Fellowship. Welcome Legolas, son of Thranduil.

Legolas bowed his head slightly. "Govannas vín gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien." Our Fellowship stands in your debt, Haldir of Lórien.

Haldir glanced around at the rest of the group, his eyes resting on Aragorn.

"A, Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen." Oh, Aragorn of the Dúnedain, you are known to us.

Aragorn bowed his head respectfully.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves!" Gimli grumbled. "Speak words we can also understand!"

Haldir looked down on Gimli, a look of disgust plastered upon his face. "We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days."

"And you know what this Dwarf says to that?" Gimli snapped. "Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!" I spit upon your grave!

Aragorn closed his eyes, sighing in frustration, before turning around and grabbing Gimli's shoulder. "That was not so courteous."

Haldir ignored Gimli's angry Dwarfish words, glancing at Frodo.