Nepenthe [Legolas]

3

"How did Elrond know?" Viridis asked this as he climbed, steadily uphill on the side of the snowy mountain. He found little resistance, the white flakes holding still beneath his footing, leaving but the barest traces in his wake.

"About what?" Legolas asked, brows furrowed as he glanced at Viridis. His head tilted to the side a fraction and the slight wind settled his hair neatly around his face.

"He said ten companions to the fellowship," Viridis said. "I did not join until after the council had concluded."

Legolas dipped his head. "Yes." He peered upward, squinting his eyes against the sun that spectated their travels. "I did not speak to him if that is what you are thinking." He admitted. "I suspect he just knew. Tell me, Viridis, do these thoughts truly plague you?"

"Not in the slightest." Viridis mused. "I was merely curious. Elrond's thoughts are far beyond my comprehension." He paused, casting a glance behind them. For Elves, they moved quickly, knowing not the struggles of treading across the snow. "Let us wait a moment, for the others." He said, slowing down and letting himself breathe freely.

"I fear I lose myself around you." He went on. "Let my mind be taken captive so much so that I forget to regard what is around me."

Legolas' eyes glinted. "I apologize." He said, looking at Viridis then with something new and wholly familiar. It was the same look that Viridis had seen on him countless times, right before he would smile, shake his head, and press his lips against his.

Viridis felt his lips curl up. "What are you thinking?" He asked.

Legolas opened his mouth to reply, the first words breaking past the barrier of the mind, toward the tongue where it arrived and just as quickly died when his eyes strayed behind him at the sound of a quick yelp.

"Frodo!" It was Aragorn who had called out when Frodo stumbled, knees sinking into the snow where they slipped and sent him tumbling. Aragorn caught Frodo before he could roll down the mountain any further, pulling him up by his shoulders.

Frodo, wide-eyed, pulled at his collar, stretching the material as he searched for the ring. He had placed it on a chain around his neck so that he would not easily lose it. Frantically, his eyes swept the disrupted snow that traced the path of his fall.

It was Boromir who found it first.

"Boromir," Aragorn said, a hint of warning in his voice, like he wanted to trust the man who now yielded the ring but lacked the strength to do so. Viridis felt the muscles in his jaw clench, strain under the pressure as he took in the scene; noticed the way Boromir's eyes were stripped of their usual delight.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer fear and doubt... over so small a thing." He muttered though Viridis could hear each word like it had been projected through a wind that projected sound.

Boromir watched the ring glint against the sun; seek it out in its glory as it called to him there, dangling by its chain now strewn across a gloved finger. Another hand, gloved still, raised to meet it, to hold the ring.

"Boromir," Aragorn said again, this time with such a severity that it startled Boromir out of his daze. The next words the man spoke were lower, dangerous— A warning. "Give the ring to Frodo."

A moment of further contemplation. Boromir's gaze strayed back to the chain and then further, up the mountain to where Viridis stood, fingers loose by his sides. He could move them, reach for an arrow, and fire in the time it took to blink yet he did not move, only stared back with but the calmest expression he could muster.

No words were needed. The conversation that he and Boromir had shared before flashed through the latter's mind.

Words broke through Boromir's lips then, curving them to a lighthearted smile though his heart pounded loudly within his chest. "As you wish." He said, taking the step toward Frodo and extending the ring out toward the Hobbit. "I care not." He added when Frodo hurriedly pulled the ring toward him, clutching it tight within his hands.