Feä Bond (Legolas x OC)

The entwash

Hours went by. The sun set, ignoring Frances' shifting in an uneasy sleep. Exhaustion had finally taken its toll and her body needed the rest. Her dreams were angsty, brutal even. Many times she roused in a sweat, fighting off a band of orcs that drove her out of her hiding place. She was not fully awake when she realised that she was still safe, and that the forest was clear before she fell into slumber again.

Eventually, when the light of the sun graced her face through the young leaves, Frances arose totally. There were a few dried fruits left, and Lembas as well. Washing them out with a mouthful of fresh water, she took off again. Very soon, there were not trees to hide her path. The immense plains of Rohan faced her, their grass rough and rolling with the gentle relief. It looked like giant molehills had dug the ground.

There was little choice - if she was to reach Edoras - but to walk in the open. She had to cross the plains to the white mountains; there stood the Golden Hall. Aragorn had showed her where the Rohan people dwelled, lifting his finger to designate a particular valley in from afar. With the plains, she would not lose it from sight. Frances congratulated herself for keeping a copy if the map in her backpack; bless her knack for geography !

At last, all this time spent in the library studying middle earth was proving useful. So Frances took off across the grassy hills, trying to find an efficient path between mounts and streams. There was not a tree in sight except for the patch of dark resting at the feet of the misty mountains. She knew this forest to be Fangorn's. And it was quite different to see the trees drawn on a map rather than contemplate it from her own eyes. Shuddering, Frances sighed in relief; it wasn't in her way. After the giant spiders of Lothlorien, she had to admit that dark forests had somehow invaded her nightmares. She was quite content to leave it alone.

As she climbed a hill higher than the others, a series of marshes and rivers appeared southwards. A quick glance at her map informed her that it was the Entwash. With the sun being high in the sky, its waters gleamed so fiercely that it looked like a little sea. The young woman paused, quickly hiding behind the hill and contemplating the shining waters as she ate. Rohan was a rare sight to behold. And compared to her world, so wild and unsoiled. Frances sighed for earth. Why had men been so irresponsible that they had to scar their beautiful dwellings? Sometimes, when Legolas was in the mood, they would speak about their respective cultures. And Frances realised she was ashamed. Ashamed that she participated in wrecking her beautiful planet in her everyday routine. After all, she owned a cell phone and studied to be an engineer.

Another day passed. Slowly, the fear to be discovered by a band or rogue orcs receded. She could see them from far way. Granted, if they ever spotted her, she would have nowhere to hide. But she had the advantage of being quite slender, and wearing her elvish cape. It would conceal her, while their heavy feet ruined the grass. As to now, she had only spotted a rider going to God knows where, far away from her. There had been such a distance between them that she had not even tried to signal her position. Her bow rested gently on her back, waiting to sing should the need arise. At her hips, the elvish sword crafted in Rivendell. Everything needed to keep her safe.

So she went on, making good time even if the hills were somewhat treacherous. A quick look at the rocks told her she travelled on a large area of granite. The rounded mounts were characteristic, and the holes in the ground here and there as well. Grass sometimes grew between the boulders, but it still tended to leave a cracks covered only by dirt. If one was not paying attention, it was fairly easy to sprain an ankle. The riders of Rohan probably knew where they could lead their steeds safely, for such a terrain could result in catastrophic injuries for a horse.

On the second day, Frances came closer to the Entwash. And she had no idea how she could possibly cross it. Granted, the river probably possessed fords here and there, but she had yet to come across a path to guide her. The young lady climbed up a hill higher than the others and extracted her map. She had not detailed much this part of her drawing; the fellowship had not been meant to wander around in the area. Setting aside her piece of paper, Frances closed her eyes and called her memory. Getting back to Elrond's library in Rivendell, she tried to remember the many maps she had studied of the misty mountains and Rohan. For a long time, she rummaged through the numerous drawings popping into her mind, the lines blending together. Eventually, an image came clearer than the others.