MIZPAH. ᶠᵃʳᵃᵐⁱʳ [REWRITTEN]

iv. what legolas's elf eyes saw

iv. 

THE NEXT DAY is too quiet.

There's an unnatural sort of stillness, like the calm before a storm, and Y/N feels tense and on-edge all morning. From sunrise, they've been traveling further down alongside Ered Hithui (the Misty Mountains, in the common tongue) and making good time. But even so, she can't relax.

Neither, it seems, can their wizard. Gandalf's face is troubled as he smokes his pipe, resting on a rock. It's early in the afternoon, and a light overcast of clouds obscures the sun. They've stopped to rest and have a quick meal on the top of a rocky hill and Sam, whose cooking skills are an eternal relief in the wearying journey, has made sausages. She isn't exactly sure where he got them, but they taste perfectly fine so she accepts it.

"We must keep going west of the Misty Mountains for forty days," Gandalf muses aloud. "If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. Then, we must turn east towards Mordor."

Y/N's forehead creases at his words. There are too many bets on our luck, she thinks wearily, pulling out an arrow from her quiver to examine. The tip gleams dully, a silent warning of the blood that will inevitably be spilled on the way.

"Good, very good!" A delighted exclamation interrupts her dark thoughts, and a corner of her mouth lifts in a smile as she catches sight of Merry and Pippin "sparring" with Boromir. She's grown fond of the two hobbits, really.

"Move your feet," Aragorn calls to Pippin from his place on a rock, and the hobbit awkwardly hops out to the left. He matches Boromir's sword with his long knife, and Merry looks impressed at the parry.

"That's good, Pippin!" he says in admiration, and the other beams at the praise.

"Boromir's weak spot is his left side," Y/N adds, helpfully, and Boromir's jaw drops. He narrows his eyes at the young archer, who widens her eyes innocently. "What, is it a secret or something?"

Pippin gleefully knocks Boromir's sword away again and tackles his unprotected left side in the moment of distraction. "Thank you, Miss Y/N!"

Whooping, Merry joins with a cry of, "Get him!"

"For the Shire!"

"Hold him, Merry, hold him!"

"He has my arm! He has my arm!"

Y/N and Aragorn laugh as Boromir tries to fend off the two hobbits. The man is on his back, but still chuckling with the halflings on top of him.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the boulders, Gimli is grumpy as always. "If anyone was to ask for my opinion--which I note they're not--I'd say we were taking the long way around." He turns to Gandalf, voice persistent. "Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome."

Y/N's attention shifts to the conversation between the dwarf and wizard, curiosity piqued.

Gandalf sighs. "No, Gimli. I would not take the roads through Moria unless I had no other choice."

Her brow furrows. She had heard that after Thorin Oakenshield's quest to reclaim Erebor had succeeded, the mines were reinhabited by a colony--she guesses that Gimli's aforementioned cousin Balin led the expedition. But then, if that were true, why would Gandalf be hesitant to enter the great halls of Khazad-dûm? What could be so evil that the wizard would not dare disturb it?

Gimli harrumphs and turns away, and out of the corner of her eye she spots Legolas deftly jumping from rock to rock, eyes fixed on the horizon in the South. Standing up, she wanders over to the elf and joins him.