Faikar - LotR

CHAPTER NINE

While she had no reservations about answering any questions the hobbits may have, Nárhína could not help but be wary when envisioning how the other members of the Fellowship would react to her 'willingness to interact' and whether or not they would see it as an opportunity to ask more probing queries.

She was met with varying degrees of welcoming looks as she took a place closer to the small crackling fire, placing herself on a lichen-covered rock, exposed to the hillside behind but open to the forest and the rest of the company. Gandalf and Aragorn gave small nods with concerned glances while the other three ignored her presence entirely.

"Troubles?" The quiet question came from the grey wizard, who had paused in his conversation with the Ranger.

"If not handled appropriately, then yes," she answered. "I do believe I have found a solution, though I would ask that most, if not all, participate – as it were." She felt more than saw the attention of the three remaining members' center on her. "It would be prudent to start training the hobbits." Gandalf leaned back on the log he was perched upon, a thoughtful look upon his face.

"I agree. In actuality, I was hoping to propose something similar myself."

"What exactly did you have in mind? We cannot hope to have them as fully trained warriors, no matter who we may have instructing." Aragorn said, voice pitched low.

"No, not as warriors. I merely mean for them to survive should the need ever arise." A short, ugly sound punctuated her sentence, a scoff from the other human man. She turned to see his face drawn up in scorn, focused on the orange flames in front of them.

"Do you require clarification, steward's son?" Eyes, dark in the night and reflecting fire, locked onto hers, narrowing in contempt.

"It is unnatural."

"What is it exactly that unnerves you so? A hobbit learning to defend himself?" She could not help but be amused. "I did not think you would have such an issue with our smaller members learning the art of swordplay, for you train your own children from a young age." Crimson orbs burned as they lit upon the Gondorian, a voiceless challenge etched in their depths. She knew, just as others around the fire, that his implication was not about the hobbits, but about her sex.

Though she understood the underlying message, she would not make this easy for him. She was no stranger to sexism, having encountered it many times before amongst human men, so she retaliated in kind – petty as it may be. "However, if you do not wish to contribute or are perhaps," eyelashes fluttered in a quick glance down to his waist where his sword was distinctly absent, "lacking certain equipment, there are others here who would prove to be more capable partners."

A strange choking sound came from her left, toward the forest. She looked away from Boromir's gawking and rapidly reddening face to see Merry and Frodo erupt into a coughing fit while Sam stared at her, scandalized. Pippin was caught in between the others, not quite understanding what was happening – again.

Not all understood what exactly her gaze had sought; the motion of her eyes dropping to the man's waist and coupled with the blatant innuendo had the company somewhere in between humor and shock. Gimli's booming laughter erupted into the night while Aragorn merely shook his head with a crooked smile. Nárhína did not need to see the elf to know he disapproved, disgust most likely etched into the frown on his flawless face.

The hobbits, somewhat calmed but still giggling, took the empty places around the fire, which happened to be on either side of her. As soon as they were settled, four absurdly eager faces turned toward her, eyes gleaming with firelight and curiosity.

"Questions, young Masters?" Looking back, she should have known better.

"How old are you?

"Where do you come from?"