Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yin wiped a blade off on the grass. It smeared. Black was everywhere. She sheathed her knives.

“Yin!” Someone shouted. 

She’d never killed so much in one half hour. Were all those corpses of her making? There were so many. So many.

“Yin!” The voice was gruff, and she thought she recognized it. “Yin, Lass, say you’re alright!”

“Frodo,” She blinked, and staggered. “Sam,” A tree materialized before her and she leaned against it for support. “Merry, Pippin! Where are they?”

“There she is!” Another voice called. This one she knew she recognized, though barely. The elfling, which made the first belong to her favorite dwarf.

“Gimli?”

“Yin!” A blurry figure ran up to her, followed closely by a taller one with light hair. She shoved off of the tree and stooped to grab hold of the former’s vest, though the action made her dizzy, and something in the back of her head told her that she hadn’t stooped, she had fallen.

“Lass, Lass. It’s alright. Oh, thank Mahal , I thought you were a goner!”

“The little ones,” She slurred. “The little ones, where are they?”

“Peace, Yin,” The elf said to her. He reached out, but it seemed she did not fully have his attention. He was looking around in amazement. “How many Uruk-hai did you fell?”

They weren’t listening to her.

“Where are the halflings? Are they safe? Please, tell me Gimli—Sam, Pippin, Merry, Frodo—are they alright?”

Silence was her answer for some time. The elf prince, staring at their surroundings in his regular still air, the dwarf swaying before Yin’s eyes. Or was she the one swaying? Her knees bumped together. 

Finally, Gimli managed to say, “We did not see them. They’re probably hidin’in these woods here.”

“We need to find them.” Yin hissed through gritted teeth. As with the tree, she pushed away from the dwarrow, stepping gingerly through the field of black. She was barely aware of the shaking in her legs.

“Yin, wait!” The elf ran up in front of her and effectively stopped her onward trek. 

“Move, prince,” She ordered, as forcefully as she could. He swam in her vision. “I need to find my friends.” She wanted to push him away. Wanted to push past him. But she staggered again, and suddenly her knees were buckling and he was forced to lurch forward and catch her.

“Yin, you’re wounded.”

“It’s nothing.”

“I’ll carry you.” 

She couldn’t protest. Her split lips were swollen, and her muscles quivered with every breath she took. The elfling must have been referring to the nasty cut at the back of her thigh, which she’d acquired at the beginning of the battle and drained from since. She felt drained. Her head had also been slammed sharply back against living wood, and she was having a hard time seeing straight, or protesting against being cradled.

“Aragorn said Boromir was at the hillfoot!” Gimli shouted. His voice had grown muted. “With Merry and Pippin—” 

The elf’s arms were around her. Yin had imagined his hold to be quite stiff, but though she felt like a foot-sore maiden, she didn’t mind nearly as much as she’d originally thought. In fact, she was starting to be a little drowsy, even.

“Overwhelmed by Uruk-hai.” Yin murmured. She remembered seeing Boromir in the thick of the battle, a blur of metal and red. She hadn’t known he was protecting Pippin and Merry. Fighting her way toward him had been her goal, but the surrounding black soon proved to be too thick, and she quickly lost him in the sea of greasy blood and gnashing teeth.

“Is he hurt?”

“Aye, I think. Lurst… the arrow…”

Yin’s vision sharpened. From her angle, she acknowledged her bearer’s beautifully defined bone-structure. His stride was smooth and steady, heightening the heaviness in her eyelids. Must have been far stronger than he looked. She hadn’t expected such muscle to be built up in that pretty willowy figure.

“Elfling,” Yin mumbled. She tugged on his tunic. “I can’t—”

“ Na sîdh .” He told her. Which of course, she had no idea what that meant. But if his pinched eyebrows were anything to go off of, she was supposed to stay still, and likely quiet as well.

“Aragorn!”

Soon, the pace slowed, and Boromir’s voice filled Yin’s ears. “I’m sorry—I tried to save them—”

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s alright. Just rest.” Aragorn. Gimli dropped to the ground next to Boromir, causing the ranger to notice them for the first time.

“Yin!” She could see his face all of a sudden, though he appeared a bit blurry, and his eyes were the wrong color. “What’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt? Oh, curse it, neth , I knew you should have stayed with me—”

“I’m fine.” She forced out, and squinted to get a better view of him. He looked stricken.

“Oh, fine, really. Is that why i pengron is carrying you?”

Did Aragorn forget that Yin didn’t speak elvish? Or did he just assume that the words he’d used to address the pointy-eared princeling had been common enough for Arwen to have taught her? Arwen had not taught those words to Yin. Maybe. It was difficult to remember, between the dizziness and stress of—well, nearly dying.

Along a more relevant happenstance, Yin’s head was hurting, but her leg had gone numb, and that was a nice development. It had burned furiously. She thought that her balance wasn’t good enough to stand beside Boromir—but that was okay, because he was on the ground anyway, so she’d really only have to kneel.

“He can put me down.”

“I most certainly will not—”

“Put me down, Bee!”

“You cannot stand, Gilith .”

She didn’t know what that meant either. Aragorn made an odd noise. 

“Oh. That’s okay.”

“No it isn’t. You will injure yourself further.”

“I only wish to speak with the steward’s son. You know, injured fellow to injured fellow. You are injured, aren’t you, Boromir?” She called down.

His breathing sounded labored, but he managed to get out a short, “Aye.”

Yin looked up at Legolas with what she hoped was a triumphant expression. His forehead was creased and his lips pinched, but he eventually—reluctantly—kneeled beside the injured man and gently eased his arms from under her.

Yin’s victorious grin dropped immediately. She shoved her dizziness aside and flipped her body to face Boromir, using her arm to drag herself closer. “Hey,” She gasped. Her hand found his chest. The metal of his armor was slippery with black. Through her squint, she could see two shafts piercing up—no, down—into his body. That wasn’t right—it wasn’t right.

“Boromir, I… what happened?”

He fumbled for her hand. “The halflings,” She clasped his palm. “I’m sorry. I failed. They took the halflings,”

“No,”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head. “No, no. No.”

“It’s my fault—It’s my fault. I failed them, you. I’ll die for my mistake.”

“Boromir—” She managed to prop herself with her other arm and reached for his face. His skin was pale and slick. She pulled a piece of hair away from his eyes. “No, you’re not going to die.” Though she didn’t pull her gaze from his, she wasn’t addressing him when her voice cracked and she asked, “Right?”

One of the arrows was buried in his shoulder, the other in his waist. The location of the shafts didn’t concern Yin, it was the black—not red—ooze that leaked from the wounds like tar through split wood. She was starting to feel a little bit hot. A lot a bit. Her reasoning ability was fighting to extinguish in the pain.

“The arrows were tipped with some kind of orcish poison.” Aragorn answered weakly. Everyone knew what that meant. “We do not possess the means to treat such injuries.”

Before Yin could say, ‘ what about elvish medicine? ’, the resident elf added, “Or the skill.” She looked up at him with lips parted. Her mind started racing, and her flickering thoughts were sending needles into her skull.

“Tauriel would have been able…” He cleared his throat. “There are those who can use magic to heal even dark wounds. I knew many in the mountains and my woodland realm but… but I am unfamiliar with those outside the protection of the elf lords.” 

Then… then what? 

“Certainly the Galadhrim possess fine healers. In kind like you describe.” Yin thought aloud. Her head throbbed.

“We are a full day’s journey from Lothlorien.” Aragorn protested. “We cannot spare to travel back.” 

“Not us, no, but it you have any more suitable ideas, by all means, enlighten me. We…” She swallowed. “We can send…” Her eyes needed to close for a minute.

“Gimli, get a message to the Lady Galadriel. Ask her to send bearers,” 

“Aye, I’ll do that,”

The elf dropped down beside her and reached for her arms. “Yin, Yin, you need to rest.”

“No,” She shook her head, forcing her eyes open. She was really tempted to do something dumb like kiss the crease between his brows. “Boromir. Merry and Pippin, are they—”

“Taken by the Uruk-hai.” He choked, dark eyes meeting hers.

“Taken,” She managed around the dryness that raced down her throat. “...not killed.”

His lips parted. “Then we… must…” A cough cut off his words.

Yin was getting really tired. “What about Frodo and Sam?”

Boromir shook his head. If it wasn’t Yin’s imagination, he was growing paler by the minute. But it was hard to tell, with him fading in and out of focus. “I did not see… I…” His eyes welled up. “Yin,” He gripped her hand very tightly. “I tried to take it. I tried to take it from him.”

Everything went dark for a moment, and Yin almost panicked before she realized she’d blinked. “You fought bravely. Frodo would not curse you, but the evil he carries. Where are they?”

There was a slight pause, before the keen-eyed prince said, “They’ve reached the eastern shore. If we hurry, we can catch them before… Aragorn?”

It sounded like he was sheathing his blade. 

“You mean not to follow them.”

“Our paths have diverged. Their fates are no longer in our hands, and to follow them… I think it would mean harm to us all.”

His voice sounded funny.

Yin squinted and curled closer to Boromir. “What of Merry and Pippin?” She heard herself mumble. “They will be tortured. We must go after them.” As she said it, her vision darkened again. Her arms were numb too now, for some reason.

“Not you.” The elf said from very very close. His hand was in her hair. When had he started holding her again? “You need to rest.”

“I’m—”

“Do not say ‘fine’ .”

His face filled her vision; he was almost glaring. She was fairly certain he was now holding both sides of her head. Those blue eyes were very pretty. Like rings of nordic sky. He studied her for a good long bit. Or maybe it hadn’t been a good long bit, it was hard for Yin to tell.

“You are not fine.”

“What… what do you...” Oooh, the world was t i l t i n g. Yin blinked again. She was still holding Boromir’s hand, and when she tugged on it, he let go so she could fumble at the elf’s wrist. “I think—”

“ Yin? Yin! ”

~

Drifting dreams teased Yin away from consciousness. Voices bounced around her head. Pretty colors and odd outlines occasionally took shape and tried to speak, but they never lasted long, and amid the chaos, Yin felt like a wave tossed in a storm. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unwelcome and mildly unnerving. Yin didn’t like not being in control.

Sometimes the dreams faded altogether, and Yin would skip through a haze of misty gray before the loopy patterns danced back in again. But over time, the haze became thicker, longer, more tangible, and much, much more appealing than feverish hallucinations. She lingered there a little more, tethered her consciousness there just a little bit tighter, until the last of the chatter had floated away on whatever kind of summer breeze—and Yin was left to herself.

She awoke to heavy darkness. A soft, blue-like light glowed steadily a way’s to her side, but it did not provide much luminance, and did little to uncover her surroundings. Yin laid on her back with her shoulders and thigh propped against soft material. Her only clothing was a tunic, and she was fairly certain it did not belong to her. She sat up and squinted at the shadows.

Silent flutterings of movement against the walls of darkness. Small outlines of objects slowly emerged in the faint light—which Yin quickly determined to be a little phial filled with shimmering liquid—and she quickly recognized that she was in a tent of sorts.

It was a very accomodating tent, considering that Yin was its only occupant, big enough to hold twelve or even fourteen humans sleeping shoulder to shoulder. Three poles propped the top of it at roughly four meters. The door was loosely tied.

When had she been placed in a tent? 

Yin sorted through her memories. The river. Giant stone statues. Rauros, a thundering waterfall. The Uruk-hai, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Boromir. Her hand went to her leg, fingers meeting soft fabric. Gimli had sent for healers from Lothlórien, so she must be in their care, wearing an elvish tunic, sleeping on an elvish bedroll, and trussed in elvish bandages. If only Aragorn could see her then. He might fall down laughing.

Cautiously, Yin leaned forward and tucked her legs underneath herself. The action hadn’t caused more than a tweak of pain, and Yin’s hope sparked. Elven healers really were the best. 

A neat pile of clothing beside the bedroll then took her attention. There were her belongings from the fight in the forest: the travel attire, her weapons, and everything else she’d been carrying. All of it looked clean, so Yin took the liberty of redressing and outfitting herself. It always paid to be prepared. She didn’t think the healers would miss their bandages.

Just as she finished tying her hair, the tent flap behind her swept open, and someone entered. Yin dropped into a crouch on instinct. The blade had already flown halfway from her hand before she realized who it was. With a sharp intake of breath, she twisted her wrist and thrust her arm down, barely managing to stop the knife with her fingertips.

Legolas held his hands up and blinked in surprise.

“ Mahal , prince!” Yin cursed and readjusted her hold on the weapon. She shoved it back into place with a frustrated huff. “I nearly wounded you—don’t sneak like that!”

“Forgive me, I thought you heard my approach.”

Yin scoffed and lowered her arm. She wouldn’t hear his approach if he sneaked . That’s what sneaking was for. “Where are we?”

He was sweeping her with a searching gaze, scanning over every inch of her body, as if suspicious of any wounds the healers might have missed. “A riverside encampment.” He met her eye briefly. “Healers from Lothlórien came at the sixth watch. They have been here all night.”

“And the fight was…”

“Yesterday. We plan to leave at dawn.”

Yin felt her eyes narrow. There was something off in the way he delivered those words. “How is Boromir?”

“He fares much better than before. The healers managed to draw the poison from his body, though he will need to stay in the forest a few weeks more in order to recover. Now he is sleeping, as I thought you’d be.”

“I‘m certain I’ve slept since sun high yesterday. That is rest enough.” She crossed her arms. “How soon is dawn?”

He paused and adopted a thoughtful expression. “A short while yet. Maybe an hour.”

“Good.” Her leg wasn’t exactly hurting yet, but the wound was starting to make its presence known. She took a few testing steps toward the door of the tent. “I’ll be ready by then.”

But before she could reach towards the canvas, Legolas held out an arm to stop her. “No, you’re staying behind.”

Yin had been expecting a statement like that, but the blunt words still stirred up her indignance quite a bit. She felt her lips pinch together. Her arm drew back and her eyebrow quirked up.

“Excuse me?”

His expression was hard to read, but that persistent crease was starting to show again on his forehead, and he seemed to be doing his trademark soul-searching stare again.

“I’m sorry Yin, you will not be coming with us.”

Yin’s hands found perches on her hips. “Why not, Bee, may I ask?”

“You’re wounded .” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I do not see how that is relevant. I can stand.” She flexed her fingers. “If you are going to chase a pack of orcs cross-country, you’re bound to need as much help as you can get. I can run. I can fight.”

It was his turn to look indignant. “Prove it.”

“What?” She took a step away from the tent flap and cocked her head curiously. “I’m already standing, what do you—”

He threw himself at her with no warning.

Yin yelped and tried to dodge, but he’d completely caught her off guard, and she ended up going down gracelessly. “Oh, you meant prove that I could fight—”

He grabbed her wrists and wrestled her arms against her sides. “I will make you a deal,” He told her, grinning just enough to show his teeth. “Get past me, and you can come.”

She yanked on her arms. “Um, I fail to see how that is a fair play.”

His lips twitched. “You are most welcome to give up now ,”

Her brow sharpened into a glare. “Yeah, not a chance.”

She twisted her hips and kicked him off, springing to her feet as he flipped to regain his balance. Darned elves and their (cool) weird gymnastics. He was still in between her and the exit.

In spite of this development, Yin was very pleased. Pleased with the fact that she felt almost completely back to normal, despite the mild stinging in her thigh. Her head was clear, and that made it sooo much easier to duck when the elfling swiped at her again, especially now that she was really expecting it. He kicked. She jumped. He swung his fist, and she blocked. And she blocked again. And again. 

And then they were exchanging blows so rapidly, Yin’s eyeballs were hurting just trying to keep up. She wasn’t really sure if they were dancing or fighting, but she was trying to dance in the direction of the opening in the tent, and he was totally stopping her. It was a hypnotic kind of rhythm: both of their movements being fluid and sharp at the same time. Yin was just thinking of how cool they would look if they were both holding knives when it occurred to her that he was… copying her fighting style! The little—no wonder this wasn’t getting anywhere!

As soon as the opportunity presented itself, Yin ducked away and wildly kicked at his side, a very spastic move that she didn’t typically exercise in battle. It did well to catch him off guard, and she twisted at the waist to throw his balance with her bodyweight. They both went down flat. Very undignified-like.

Though, as awkward as it may have been, it would have been the perfect opportunity to make a break for it, since they had landed conveniently close to the opening of the tent. Only, Legolas seemed to have given up on the dignified bit, and he hadn’t let go of Yin’s leg from when she’d kicked him. Now he was using his bodyweight to hold her down.

“Ah— Mahal ! What in Durin’s name?” Yin kicked with her other foot to try to get him to let go, but he caught that one too—the leg that happened to still be healing.

Yin was on her back again. Before she could sit up and punch his pretty nose or something awful like that, he leaned forward and grabbed her wrist, using his knees to pin her own to the ground. 

His second hand was gripping the back of her leg right on the line of her wound, and she would have found the position to be pretty sexy if the contact hadn’t made her cry out and grit her teeth in pain.

“Why are you set on leaving me behind?” She growled up at him. 

His hair was tickling her cheeks, framing his wide eyes and tight jaw muscles. “It’s too dangerous.”

“So why are you going? And bringing your best friend along?”

“Don’t you know I would lock them up if I could? Leave all of you here in Galadriel’s protection, where it’s safe, where you do not have to fall…” His gaze took on a distant look. “Fall far into the earth.”

Ah, so that’s what this was about. Yin hadn’t met Gandalf before the quest, but she seemed to have been the only one. And even then she’d grown incredibly fond of the old man. That was, the istar . But death was a regular thing for humans; Yin witnessed it all the time. She never considered what it must be like for elves, who lived on and on for thousands of years and didn’t grieve unless there was war. It must be a surreal concept. A very terrifying concept. 

Legolas wasn’t sitting on her left hand, and he seemed too preoccupied with his inner turmoil to notice.

“But you can’t.” Yin said plainly. She slowly, subtly, reached up with her free arm, until she’d slipped behind his shoulder and touched the closer of the pretty princeling knives strapped to his back. She wasn’t yet sure what she was going to do with it, but hopefully, she would not really have to put the thing to use. It had been told that her art just waving a blade around could be intimidating enough.

Her fingers curled around the hilt.

By the time Legolas realized what she was doing, Yin was already shifting his weight and shoving him upward as hard as she could. The blade easily slipped free, just as she’d anticipated. The only thing she didn’t anticipate (which she really should have anticipated after brawling with him so long) was his keeping a firm grip on her legs, so when Yin threw him off, she was yanked right along and they rolled across the ground, both trying to slam each other into the dirt. Both trying to avoid a good slicing from the pale hunting knife.

It was a slightly chaotic experience. In the middle of the awkward scramble, Yin managed to free her legs and kick the elf down sharply, knocking the wind from his lungs as she halted the crazy tumble. By some amazing slight of physics, she’d landed on top. She quickly planted her knee on his chest, using her other foot to hold his wrist, and her free arm to pin his elbow. She grinned and held the knife against the hollow of his throat.

“So why try anyway?”

He looked horribly confused. He looked beside himself with confusion. He squinted up at her, brow furrowed, lips parted. His breath smelled like flowers. Yin could sit there and enjoy that face all day. It was exceptionally adorable—very gratifying—and she was feeling the utmost triumph as her heart beat to some erratic rhythm in exertion.

Someone cleared their throat loudly. “Do I want to know what is happening here?”

Yin and Legolas glanced up in the direction of the voice. 

At some point in the little skirmish, they’d exited the tent and ended up sprawled out on the forest floor. Tall trees reached up around them, not quite as grand as the mallorn of the Golden Wood, but lovely enough to make the scene even more romantic. Yin was pretty sure there were leaves in her hair.

Just a little ways off, and bearing more to a second tent, Aragorn and Gimli stood staring.

Yin turned back to Legolas. “Well, elfling? A deal’s a deal.”

He looked sooo ready to protest. He was practically bursting with objections. But when Yin dug her knee a little harder against his sternum, and leaned in further with a wicked crook in her smirk, he tossed his head back and growled out a breathless, “Fine. You can come.”

Her grin widened.

“Why, that’s so generous, my lord!” With a very slow and deliberate air, she eased off of him, though still keeping the knife neatly fitted against his skin. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. Made a show of dusting his shoulder off. “Oh, and by the way,” She’d leaned in closer to whisper against his collar. “You can fall too.” His jerkin smelled like sweet summer grass. “Don’t think you’re the only one with family to lose.”

Yin lowered the knife and slipped the grip into his hand. A smile curled her mouth as she turned away. What a funny thing to feel, that, and feel very, very self-accomplished over. Getting past him. But now he stood beside the tent with her, instead of within it, and she had secured herself a position on an extremely dangerous quest for the second time that year.

“He snuck up on me.” She found herself saying. The man and dwarf soon had matching smiles. “I needed to make sure he will not entertain the idea of doing it again.”

She could hear Legolas fitting his knife back into its place. “You have a knack for getting into messes.” He said to her. She didn’t turn to face him as he made to walk past, but he bumped her side with his elbow, and when she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, he was smiling. 

“I would not count on it.”

Chapter Text

Yin really shouldn’t have counted on it. She liked Legolas! He was funny, and loyal, and a pretty nice person, all things considered. He wasn’t the kind to prank people on purpose, surely. Though, the thought that maybe he wasn’t doing it on purpose had crossed Yin’s mind, but she quickly dismissed it after that whole Uruk-hai debacle in Lothlórien. When she’d deliberately told him not to sneak around her .

He was an elf, of course, so he—being so naturally light on his feet—did it without giving any mind. This encouraged Yin to let him off easy a few times, especially after she found out he’d previously thought her to be an elf. 

But then it kept happening. And it kept happening. And Yin was constantly on edge because she never knew when the darned Bee could be lurking in the background, just waiting to jump from the shadows and consequently scare the living daylights out of her.

It should have been easy to get accustomed, after it happened so often. But Yin didn’t think she’d ever get used to being startled at random, especially after a really long time of being in perfect control of her surroundings and reflexes. She swore, sometimes, it wasn’t natural that the elf was the only one who could throw her off guard so fast. The hobbits had been nearly as good as moving about soundlessly, and they had never made Yin scream and jump a full meter through the air, then promptly fall hands and knees into a stream of rushing, frigid water.

That elf. He certainly had talent.

“Mother of DURIN!” Yin screeched when she had yanked her face out of the freezing brook. It was the first source of clean water that they’d seen for days, and as Aragorn and Gimli stopped to get some sleep, Yin had taken the opportunity to wash out her waterskin and a few extra garments. The sky was dark by the time Legolas wandered off—presumably to look ahead, or whatever his excuse had been.

“I’m sorry—forgive me!” He said as he splashed down the bank to help Yin up. It sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “I thought you heard my approach.”

He grabbed her elbows and hauled her to her feet. Her hair was a clingy, tangled disaster. Her boots were soaked through, her tunic had torn at the hem. She wasn’t really hurt, just banged up, and wet. Very wet.

“If you say that one more time, I’ll have the gall to drag you down with me.” Yin grumbled. One of her extra shirts floated past, and she kicked at it to snag the thing from the water.

Legolas chuckled and let go of her arms.

“I’m serious!” She warned, snatching the shirt off her foot and whipping it at him.

He sputtered a laugh as he jumped back, ever the image of grace and perfection. Yin narrowed her eyes at him. “Next time we stop, I am getting you heavier boots.” She shook the garment and flipped it around her wrist. “That way I will actually be able to hear you sneaking up on me.”

“Sneaking?”

Yin picked her way out of the creek, nudging the rest of her things to dry ground as she went. “Aha ha. You sound so surprised, as if I had not told you already how much you—” She stopped herself. Before she could say how much he set her off. How much he got under her skin. That would give him too much satisfaction, no doubt. “I swear, Bee. I truly swear, I’m getting you heavier boots—human boots. First town we see.”

She gathered up her belongings and made back for camp.

“I say it is a waste of your coin. You cannot make me wear them,”

Yin paused. “Hmm,” She wrung out a shirt in her hands, eyeing it, trying to gauge whether or not it was long enough to make a noose. “I think we’ll see about that.”

He smiled wide as they left the creek behind, like the idea of her trying to force human boots on his feet was most comical indeed. Yin didn’t think she’d ever actually attempt to put them on him, probably just beat him over the head with them, or chase him to Mordor and back like some kind of deranged orc spawn.

But she was a very prideful person, and twice as stubborn on top, so when Aragorn spied a small village in the next few days, Yin immediately veered off their course and dragged her three friends along. Even though it must have been many leagues in the distance. She needed to keep her word. After all, if she didn’t, what kind of person would she be? A petty liar who made threats with no weight, and that was just shameful. Legolas laughed when he realized her plan. But mercy, he didn’t so much as breathe a word.

Aragorn didn’t fully understand why she wanted to make a detour for boots when hers were perfectly fine (and of elvish make, for that matter), but he didn’t try to stop her, as was a wise decision which resulted in the least possible loss of life. 

But the woman she talked to in the town seemed equally confused. “Can’t imagine what an elf maid like you would need human boots for,” She said to Yin, though not unkindly. The elderly lady was sweeping her doorstep with a long broom of folded grasses, filling the air with a dry swish, swish.

Yin resisted the urge to correct her, or otherwise accept a compliment. “They’re not for me,” She answered. “They’re for a companion. Someone man-sized if that would help.”

“Aye, for your elf friend?”

Yin’s lips parted in confusion. Either this woman was psychic, or she was faster than she looked, because Yin remembered leaving her three fellows on the other side of the town, and so this elderly lady would have had no idea that they’d existed at all unless she’d just run ahead of Yin to sweep her doorstep casually—which didn’t seem a likely scenario.

The words, “What elf friend?” Were leaving Yin’s mouth before she could just affirm the woman’s question and carry on with her business. Her lack of ability to filter the thoughts before they became speech was truly impressive. And prompting as well, it seemed, because someone behind her responded with,

“This elf friend.”

And Yin. Made a strangled noise as she tried to hold back her yelp. At least her body only jerked wildly instead of flying through the air like last time. Her hair whipped in a pretty arc as she whirled on Legolas. She hadn’t even the slightest notion that he was coming up behind her. Just, boom , there he was. As if by some sorcery or magic that he teleported.

“You!”

“Hello, I am assuming I was the ‘elf friend’ that this lady was referring to.”

The woman harrumphed. “I’m no lady, but you are right about one thing.”

Yin scowled fiercely. This had to end!

“The boots you may find at old Thatcher's.” The woman gestured vaguely with her broom and went back to sweeping. “He’ll give you a good price,” She nodded. “Last house on the left. I bid thee well,”

“Yes,” Yin said to her distractedly. “Thank you. And to you the same.”

Last house on the left. She grabbed Legolas' arm and marched off. "You bring this upon yourself." Growled out of her lips

His smile tweaked as he skipped to keep up.

"Truly, Bee. If you wanted to get away with openly practicing all of your dangerous elfy abilities, you have been doing a very poor job."

"Perhaps it is that I don't mean to get away with it," 

He sounded so pleased with himself. So genuinely happy, it made Yin want to punch him. And it wouldn’t be the last time. 

As they found “old Thatcher” and bargained him for a pair of beautifully clunky shoes, Yin kept a firm grip on Legolas’ elbow, only afraid that if she let go, she would do something she might regret. He kept making stupid comments, like pointing out that the buckles and wide mouths of the boots fixed them to look like pirate shoes. Or that the curly toes reminded him of fern leaves. Yin was distracted enough with her own plans for the things, she didn’t need him chirping in her ear like a songbird on a sunny day.

“I hope you found what you needed,” Aragorn told them when Yin circled back to him and Gimli. He was browsing through some display of buttons and bells in the market. Two particularly large brass chimes he had purchased, and as Yin approached, he tossed them to her. “We should be off soon.”

Yin had to let go of the elf so she could catch the metal works.

“You could find a smart place for those,” Gimli chuckled when he saw the boots in the crook of her arm. She grinned and couldn’t help but agree.

It seemed that Aragorn and Gimli had caught onto her little plot, and she was very grateful to them for letting her see it through without much fuss. They were such good friends. Though double-men too, it seemed, if they were equally willing to sit back and allow Legolas’ harassment to carry on so long without doing anything.

Yin had to put the bells on the toes of the boots. It was just. So perfect. She couldn’t not do it. She would have been a disgrace. A shame to society. 

Along related lines, she had considered (at some length) the idea that maybe giving Legolas a belled collar to wear would be more effective, but she quickly disposed of the scheme when his first night with the tinker-boots robbed them all of sleep as soon as it was his watch. Yin thought he’d tried being quiet, but the terrain had proved uneven the more he walked around, and the cheerful tink, tink, tink that persisted for many hours almost convinced her that he hadn’t been striving hard enough. 

Especially because he managed to sneak up on her yet again, though he wore them the second night. Yin had been worn on the inside from her lack of sleep and the long day of tracking. She probably hadn’t shown it, but as soon as they stopped to bed down, she was on her back, jacket balled beneath her head, and mind drifting off to the dreamworld. Yet even then her sleep had been light, and she’d been able to make out the faint chorus of some frogs in a nearby pond.

Legolas’ footsteps—as jingly and obnoxious as they should have been—fell silent on her subconscious, and when he touched her shoulder seemingly from nowhere, she woke in a heartbeat and nearly stabbed him.

Her brain scattered in fifteen different directions as she tried to discern what could be attacking her, and brace herself to ward it off. Orc, goblin, troll, warg, uruk-hai , she thought. But of course, it was just her elven companion. She didn’t know why she wasn’t used to it by then. She should be. And she shouldn’t sleep with her knives that close. The blade had almost sliced his hair.

After a moment of intensely staring at the elf’s amused expression, Yin loosened her grip on her weapon. She found she was almost at a loss for words, and she had nothing left to do in reaction. Just a short, “The bells will not stop you, will they?”

Her eyes had quickly adjusted to the darkness of the night, thanks to the exceptional brightness of the stars overhead. She was able to note the small twitch in his lips that gave the only indication he was holding back a smile. “No.”

Yin put her knife back where it belonged. “Unfortunate.”

“Though I am wearing them,” He said, sounding pleased, gesturing to his feet where he was indeed sporting the human boots—and bells—as promised.

A sound that was part grumble and part sigh snaked through Yin’s teeth. It was her rotation on watch. Just a few hours staring off into space, and she could go back to being paranoid about people with the ability to silence bells on their feet as they strutted about.

“I suppose you’re just too powerful,” She sat up and patted him on the shoulder. “Go to sleep, prince. So I can keep my eye on you. Make sure you don’t wander off without anyone being the wiser.” Her eyelids were still heavy and her feet still sore, but she managed to get off the ground without too much trouble, stretching as she stood.

Legolas smiled and patted her on the shoulder. He saluted sarcastically and took her spot beside Gimli, who was snoring. Maybe the dwarf had played a part in preventing Yin from hearing anything—it wouldn’t have been so much of a stretch. Sometimes Yin wanted to smother him. Or Legolas. Either one would do.

The elf curled up easily, tucking her jacket underneath his pretty pale hair, and shifting until he was comfortable. The bells made a sleepy jingling. Yin—oddly—despised and adored him at the same time in that moment.

“Goodnight, Bee,”

“Goodnight gilith nín.”

She wanted to frown, but her lips curled up instead. He was exercising another of his dangerous elfy abilities: the power to fall asleep on command. 

“You know, I still don’t speak Sindarin.” Yin whispered.

He closed his eyes and smiled with a cheeky quirk about his mouth.

It seemed he wouldn’t answer. 

“I don’t know what that means.”

Soon his breathing slowed, and his body relaxed. Yin found herself smiling. This elf was certainly starting to grow on her. There was no telling how much longer they would be together in their group, but if he was going to keep calling her names and saying things in a different language, she might make an effort to start learning it prior to Arwen’s proposed teaching schedule. The knowledge might come in handy, especially if Yin ever had to meet…

Mahal, how brightly the stars shone that night. They were so pretty, so pure. It was really nice looking at them now that there was no threat of a wily wood-dweller getting on Yin’s nerves. 

She didn’t know how long the stars would be out either. It was hard to see when a cloud might come to block them from view, and Yin wasn’t sure she wanted to stay on watch when their light seemed too beautiful to miss. She wanted to capture it somehow, in some kind of memory. 

Legolas would know how best to do that.

Yin looked back to her friends, all sleeping soundly, peacefully. A surge of whelming emotion built in her chest, and she couldn’t help but think that they were more beautiful to her than even all the glittering suns in the brightest night sky. She cared deeply despite their annoying behaviors, because they were truly an immense blessing, they and their fellowship. Her fresh air through the heavy summer rain.

Just then Yin thought, if Legolas were to put aside his untamed desire to spook her everyone, she just might let him teach her how to capture memories of the starlight.

Chapter Text

Aragorn groaned and smacked a hand to his forehead.

“Aye! See, the ranger remembers it well!”

Yin grinned at the man across the fire. She needed a good laugh that night, after strain from the group’s most recent excursions. A member of the broken Fellowship would without doubt encounter tribulation, but Yin was already exhausted, being a seasoned warrior though she was—and the elf prince was doing absolutely nothing to make the journey easier. He was starting to become… distracting.

So one of Gimli’s hilarious stories was sure to brighten her mood; he had always best succeeded in making her smile.

“Gimli, please.” Aragorn tried weakly, though he too seemed mildly keen on a tale before bed, even if it was at his expense. “The story was bad enough when it was being made.”

Gimli leaned forward and made wild gestures with his hands, which only evoked more disgruntled noises from the man. Yin did not understand what he meant by them, but it amused her greatly.

“What’s this?” A voice above Yin’s shoulder spoke from silence, and she had to choke back a scream. She would always curse elves and their sneaking abilities. They were so light on their feet—so light —oh curse him, not a doubt now that he was definitely doing it on purpose.

“Legolas, I’m going to tell ya about an endearing encounter I had with the lad Aragorn.”

“Endearing?” Legolas dropped to sit next to Yin. He played with the word endearing like it was a secret joke. But he was doing a poor job hiding his not-serious smile, even in the dim firelight. It was a very catching smile.

“Gimli, I would absolutely love to hear of this endearing encounter.”

Aragorn gave a final half-hearted attempt. “Please, in front of the woman?”

Yin stuck out her tongue at him. “Goat fodder! Is it really that sort of story?”

Gimli scoffed. “Not at all! And if it were half as awful as the other human suggests, you’ve slept and hunted with us these past nights—I think your ears could suffer it.”

“If her ears could suffer your snoring, having slept beside you,” Legolas teased.

“Leave my nose out of this!” Gimli huffed with a shake of his fist. “This ain’t about my nose, it’s about m’ beard .”

Aragorn groaned again.

“What did Aragorn do to your beard?” 

“It’s what he didn’t do, Lass.”

Legolas grinned and leaned forward. “This will be most amusing.”

And so, Gimli recounted the terrible tale of the day he met a ranger called Strider, fell into a goblin cave, and had half his facial hair burned off. He was genuinely traumatized by the experience, Yin could tell, but he did his best to brush off the saddening memory with hilarious detail and inflection that made her laugh—and she was grateful. By the time Aragorn made his entrance in the recounting, Gimli was already waist-deep in goblins and furiously trying to smother the fire on his tunic.

“An’I was fightin’ for my life, I was! But the mead had gotten everywhere, and my tunic was soaked through! There’d be no savin’ it! Imagine my predicament—no way to stamp the fire and fight at once, no way to wrestle the tunic off—my poor beard…”

Yin knew she shouldn’t snicker at that part, but his expression was so mournful, and she couldn’t help imagining poor Gimli flailing about with his axe, trying not to die while simultaneously setting everything close on fire. Besides, Legolas was laughing too, and whenever the elfling laughed, Yin really didn’t have a choice whether or not she’d join in.

“Enter my savior!” 

Aragorn covered his face with his hands, though Yin thought she could see him smiling through his fingers.

Gimli was on his feet now, fully re-enacting the scene. “He swooped in out of nowhere with a fearsome battle cry, swingin’ his sword like a berserker half-mad—”

Yin doubled over cackling. Gimli had the best impressions.

“An’I thought, Alas! I’m saved! I’ll not be disgraced today! For there be two of us now, aye. We can save ourselves surely—and spare my beard without a doubt!” 

“And did you manage to spare your beard, mellon ?” Legolas asked, again in his feigned tone.

“NO!”

Yin had to wipe tears away.

“I ran to him in full expectancy, felling goblins left and right as I went, ‘Man!’ I shouted. ‘M’beard! M’beard! Cut the tunic off!’ And did he ?” The dwarf was now holding his axe, and he jabbed wildly at Aragorn.

“Gimli, your armor was beneath the tunic! How should I have known that I would not cleave you open by mistake?” The defense was solid, but Gimli was having none of it.

“Though a dwarf would sooner risk a cleaving open than losing his beard! The fire had spread. In the precious few seconds that Aragorn did not cut the burning fabric as he so easily could have, my face was alive with flame, and by the time the last goblin was struck dead, it had eaten its fill of my lovely braided locks…” The last part of the recounting sobered Gimli’s wild mood. He sat back down with his axe across his lap, stroking the one side of his now fully-re-grown beard absently.

“He was inconsolable.” Aragorn recalled. “Nearly sliced me up before I left, though I apologized profusely and tried to reason that better his beard than his life.”

Yin barked a laugh. “You must have known nothing of dwarves,”

“I admit my knowledge then was limited. Though rest assured, Gimli, when next I must decide between your hair and your life, I will readily bury you with your braids intact.”

Gimli grunted in response. Yin chuckled.

“Really?” Legolas asked.

All three of them turned to him.

“I—what I meant is that… well, your hair can grow back. Yet your life is priceless. You only have one.”

Gimli nodded at him. “Easy for an elfling to say. Immortals like you have many years to grow out silky flowing tresses.”

Yin flipped her own hair over her arm in a dramatic manner. “And what of us, dear friend? We who live mere centuries?”

He jabbed his axe at her and scoffed loudly. “Humans? You creatures care nothing for your hair, cutting and damaging it as you please; but for a dwarf, it’s our pride and joy!” He pounded his chest. “There is great meaning in it.”

“This I know!” Yin smirked. “Or have you forgotten who raised me?”

Legolas glanced back and forth between them. “...how much meaning?”

“The dwarves have many traditions surrounding the things they can weave into their locks,” Aragorn said. “Courting beads, marital beads, clasps, braids, plaits, tresses, you get the idea.”

Legolas pursed his lips. “Oh.”

“The hair and beard of a dwarf can symbolize much.” Yin added on. “Social rank, occupation, familial status. To lose your hair is near akin to losing a part of your identity.”

“Elves have the same reserves,” Legolas offered. “We do not hold like traditions, but to lose one’s hair is something of a horrifying prospect.” He reached over and jokingly tugged on a strand that had escaped Yin’s ponytail. “I have often wondered why humans do not value it so much. It can be truly beautiful should they put some effort into making it so.”

Yin smiled in a way that crinkled her nose. “Oh, easily said, Bee. The effort bit is where we draw the difference. Many humans cannot spare the effort to make their heads beautiful, unlike your kind, who are so naturally gorgeous .” She couldn’t help but take the opportunity to reach over—like he had—and tuck a piece of his pretty pale hair behind his ear.

He stilled.

Gimli snickered.

“She called you gorgeous, mellon .” Aragorn said with a barely-restrained smile. “Anything to say?”

Legolas didn’t respond. His smile had faded, and he was staring straight ahead with a blank look.

“He is awe-struck,” Yin teased. She hadn’t drawn her hand back, instead running her fingers along the braid on the side of his head. It stopped just at the shell of his ear, and she felt herself smirk as she continued to trace her fingers against his skin.

Gimli went on laughing.

“Tell us then, elfling, what you do consider when you style your lovely locks.”

She’d never seen him so uncomfortable. He continued to keep his gaze locked on some space far in the distance, but his jaw worked, and he seemed to be on the verge of mild panic. Yin imagined it was because of her touching him (she’d figured elves to be extremely stingy with physical contact), but if he wanted her to stop, he could easily pull away. And he didn’t.

“I think you like to keep these pointy little ears uncovered, no? You’d like for them to be seen, you want others to know how dangerous you are?” She fingered the points of his elf ears with a feathery touch, completely aware of the wicked smirk she was wearing.

Gimli seemed unable to restrain himself now. Even Aragorn was chuckling a little.

Legolas swallowed. 

“Aragorn—d’ya think she knows?” Gimli wheezed.

Yin raised an eyebrow as she feigned ignorance to Legolas’ reaction. “Know what?”

Aragorn breathed a soft laugh and, no, no Gimli, I don’t think she does .

“ Lle atta naa norta mellonea .” Legolas grumbled. It seemed to take great effort for him to get that out, and Yin turned her attention back to him.

Let this be payback for all the times he’d intentionally spooked her with his “dangerous” elfy abilities. Yin had been searching weeks for something to get him with. If she had known how uncomfortable just touching his hair would make him feel, she would have put it into practice a long time ago.

“They are certainly something to take in mind when you have hair as looong and silky as yours.” Yin cheekily shifted closer and ran her hand along his scalp, purposely messing up the neat order of it all. She shifted even closer and let his hair fall over her arm. “Am I right, ûrzudel ?” If the being obnoxiously close wasn’t enough, Yin let her hand cradle the other side of his head just so she could tug his earlobe. 

He shivered under her touch.

Was he really that made with all this contact? She wasn’t about to stop, because she hadn’t been properly avenged yet, but she had some serious blackmail now. This was really interesting. 

Gimli hadn’t stopped laughing. He was laughing so hard, his face was as dark as his hair. He grabbed Aragorn’s arm and shook him. “Tell her!” He cackled. “Tell her, Aragorn!”

Yes, tell me. She wanted to agree. If there were any more dirty secrets on their favorite elfling, Yin was all ears.

The man’s face was split wide with a grin. “Alright,” He cleared his throat, then had to stop and laugh again. “Yin, elves have incredibly sensitive… well, ears,” His emphasis was very suggestive, as though he had been very content to withhold that information just to give her an excuse.

Legolas made a weird noise that sounded strangely like “barzûln”, and whatever it meant must have been offensive to Gimli, because—though he did not even pause for breath—he managed to snigger out a couple of words in protest.

Yin was without question going to regret this. “ Sensitive ?” She drew the word out with a playful lilt. “So,” And she made sure Gimli was watching because she would be so incredibly pleased to make him laugh this time around. “he’ll definitely feel this,” 

Gently—because she had a tad of decency left—she pulled the elf toward her and placed a feather-soft kiss on the point of his ear, using her far fingers to stroke the other side of his head. His breathing quickened a little bit. She kissed him again, on the soft spot beneath his hairline, and again, behind his fancy braids, just because he smelled good. Like fresh air on a spring breeze.

Gimli howled. Even Aragorn thought it funny enough to double over.

Yin herself was finding her reckless actions to be mildly ridiculous, and she couldn’t help the soft giggle that floated off her lips. 

She belonged in a tavern, she really did, not on a fateful quest with three noble companions. Especially not with a prince and a lord and an heir to the king’s throne. But she didn’t doubt that her tavern ideal would be realized when all was said and done—if she didn’t die first—so she needed to laugh this night, because if not tonight, then how much laughter would she have the chance to breathe in whatever time she had left? With these three people that she’d grown to love like family—

So she laughed. But before she could kiss the elf again, he found the strength to wrench himself from her arms, and he fell to the ground, sending up a cloud of dancing dust in the firelight. He blinked furiously and shook his head.

Yin felt bad, getting mirth at his expression; he looked so bewildered and embarrassed. But she supposed he was not truly thrown by her actions—it seemed nothing could ever do that—and after all, she reminded herself, revenge was terribly sweet. Teach him to prank her in the middle of the night.

“ Norta Mellonea ,” Legolas huffed. He staggered to his feet and covered his mouth with a hand. He continued to blink with wide eyes as he stared at a spot in the dirt just before his feet.

Yin’s laugh slowed. Was he… his cheeks seemed to have darkened—and Yin figured she would be able to tell, having wasted as much of her life as she had staring at his beautiful face.

“You all are terrible friends. I… I think I’ll go scouting.”

“ Mellon , you cannot go alone—” Aragorn tried, though he was still smiling openly.

Legolas shook his head. As if he were trying to snap out of a daze. “I’ll be fine.” Before anyone could protest further, he turned heel and walked into the darkness with a stiff stride. Yin was able to make out his light figure move to scoop his quiver up before disappearing completely.

“Be back soon!” Gimli called after him. “I do think it’ll storm, and we can’t have the wind ticklin’ ya pretty ears!”

Yin dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Chapter Text

Legolas had not returned by the time Aragorn and Gimli bedded down for the night. Yin could appreciate his desire to be alone, especially if she had humiliated him at all (which she was starting to feel bad about), but she had the first watch, and if he didn’t come back soon, she was going to have to go find him. It was easier to keep track of the three fellows when they were all in one place. Not to mention Gimli’s previous prediction of the weather was starting to become realized.

“Should I go look for the elf?” Yin wondered aloud. She had dimmed the fire and donned her jacket. The wind was starting to pick up, and it was getting cold despite the relatively sheltered copse of trees they had made camp in.

“He will be back before long,” Aragorn promised.

“And if he isn’t?”

“Wouldn’t worry it, Lass,” Gimli told her from flat on his back. Yin wanted to cross the distance and roll him onto his side, but she still had a bit of patience left.

“I do not worry.” She lied. Salty as she was, she didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. “It is easier to watch the lot of you when you sleep in the same place. Legolas is more than capable of handling himself, I know.”

The dwarf snorted.

Aragorn waved a hand dismissively. “Wait an hour.” He advised in a soft tone. “It’s alright.”

Yin nodded her assent. It was a fair enough compromise. That seemed to mark the end of conversation, and thoughts turned to dreaming. The two of them quickly drifted off and snored. Just in time to miss the first few drops of rain. She was going to get antsy waiting very fast.

A tiny prick of water struck Yin’s finger, followed by the quiet patter pitter in the canopy overhead. The trees blocked out most of it. Even so, the last embers of the fire soon hissed and darkened. It was a light storm, but the water was cold, and the wind brisk, and when thunder did sound, it was sharp and brittle despite being in the distance. Weather so frankly vexing must have shot down from the north.

Yin put her gloves on and hugged her jacket closer. She frowned. Such was the kind of rain that implied the nearness of mountains, or winter, and Yin always preferred real snow to this unforgiving chill.

After one hour of sitting back in the cold, she stood without hesitation and went off in the direction she’d last seen the elf wander. She couldn’t imagine waiting any longer. He might have wanted to be alone, but she didn’t think he’d rather some kind of sickness over company. Sneezing wouldn’t be good for the execution of his pranks, after all, and Yin was tired of sitting under the leaky tree leaves.

“Legolas?” She called out. There were more trees—beeches—scattered over the hills beyond their camp, but in the starless, moonless night, it was hard to tell if any humanoid figure was standing among them. 

The top of Yin’s head collected a layer of water droplets when she stepped from the protection of the last oak, sending cool liquid rolling down her shoulders to splatter on her arms. Spray bounced up onto her face and chased the heat from her cheeks. If she stayed in the open too long, she might be the one to catch cold.

Should the moon have been visible, it probably would have provided much luminance. The clouds seemed dreary, but they also looked to be glowing as if lit from behind, like wispy smoke shrouding a silver fire. The appearance was almost ghostly, even if pretty all the same.

“Legolas!” Yin tried again. To preserve warmth, she hugged her arms tight to her chest, but she was fingering a small knife just in case (Legolas) anything sinister was trying to use the darkness as cover. “Legolas, Bee, I’m sorry if I caused any discomfort! I was only joking with you. I did not mean anything by my actions.”

There was no answer, but then, Yin hadn’t really been expecting one.

“Elfling, won’t you come back to camp? It is my watch. I want to make sure you are alright.” She stopped walking at the crown of a small hill. There was an older tree perched atop it, with wide, fanning branches and flat leaves. It did well to block the gentle, yet irksome, beat of the rain.

Below Yin, hills continued to roll away toward the horizon. It was a good vantage point. She could see for a couple of kilometers, even though it was dark, but she was also exposed, atop the mound of earth. Everything for a couple of kilometers could probably also see her , and if there were any hostiles in the vicinity, essentially advertising her vulnerability would not be a wise decision. Legolas probably would have come to the same conclusion, if he had made this way while “scouting”. But now he was nowhere to be seen.

Yin used her free hand to swipe a few clingy pieces of hair from her eyes. Blast the fae. Where had he gotten off to? Thanks to the darkness, Yin was unable to make out a single clue as to his location, and she was getting colder and wetter and more grumpy by the minute. This was starting to feel like a set up. Maybe she should just go back to camp and let him return as he pleased.

But then what if something happened to him? And it would be Yin’s fault if he got himself into some awkward mess—though that was usually Aragorn’s play. If her stupid little tease with his ears had made him upset, she didn’t want to walk away with things unsettled. That would just be bad manners. And her parents had raised a relatively well-mannered child.

But it was dark, and it was cold, and Yin’s exposed fingertips were starting to get all tingly, and she had half a mind to just climb up and sit in the tree if only it would block the wind. Legolas was nowhere to be found. Looking for him might well have been a lost cause. While Yin made fun of his special sneaking powers, the fact remained that if he were standing right behind her, she likely wouldn’t even know.

She glanced over her shoulder just to be sure.

If he hadn’t heard her when she’d called his name, he was either asleep some place or so far off that continuing her search would be a waste of time. But she didn’t consider those two scenarios to be likely. The best place to sleep was with the group, in spite of Gimli’s snoring, and there didn’t seem to be any noteworthy area to travel to for leagues. Which meant that Legolas probably had heard her, and was simply refraining from clueing her in on it so that he could… do what, she had a fair idea of.

Yin put her knife away and made a grumpy face. Better to not be holding any weapons in case he decided to execute his signature jump-scare.

“Silly elf,” She huffed and stomped her foot. Her nose was cold. “Probably fixing to spook me again.”

“What brought you to that conclusion?” The tree asked.

Yin let out an asphyxiated shriek and nearly tripped over her feet to get away. She couldn’t help it. Other times, she’d screamed and yelped and made all manner of strange noises. She’d been aiming to alter that pattern, but now she couldn’t help it. Because of course it was really the elf . Of course the elf was in the freaking TREE.

“ You !” She cried. “You—you—I don’t even have a bad enough insult!

He was leaning down from his perch on a middle branch, considering her, shoulders wrapped in his shadowy cape. He wasn’t smiling, but his voice still held a playful tone when he said, “Forgive me, I thought you heard m—”

“Do not finish that!” Yin warned. She straightened and marched over to grab the lowest branch of the tree. “Don’t do it.” The limb was thick and sturdy, and it easily supported her weight as she swung herself onto it with as much grace as she could muster. She clambored the rest of her way toward the elf.

“You… you have so much of a knack for startling me.” She huffed. 

He watched her as she carefully picked her way through the branches, moving as close as she could without actually touching him. She picked a spot just below his shoulder, so that her eyes were level with his chest and her knees could be tucked neatly under her chin. 

The clasp of his cape was glittering, and it was darker up in the tree that even down under the clouds, but his hair was doing wonders for Yin’s weak human eyes. It almost glowed. The gray fabric of his cloak had probably helped him blend in more so than before. Yin doubted she’d have seen him even if she’d known where to look.

On related lines, Yin had long since removed the bells from his toes. She would save them for some later purpose, as they clearly did nothing to alert his presence but when he wished them to. But the buckles were still dangling on his human shoes, and she couldn’t stop herself from swatting at one in that moment, just to fill the silence.

“Em, I am beginning to feel bad.” She started, resting her hand on her foot. He hadn’t said much. “I really was just teasing, earlier. I did not intend to push you off, but I won’t touch your hair like that again—”

“I do not mind you touching my hair,” He interrupted.

Yin found the courage to glance up. He was frowning, but it wasn’t an angry frown. Elf expressions were sometimes hard to decipher. “So it is your ears? I swear I did not know before. I just thought I would repay you for all the times you snuck up on me and… I sound foolish, don’t I?”

He didn’t affirm her, but he didn’t deny it either. Just the corner of his mouth twitched, and they lapsed back into silence. Yin looked down again. She fiddled with her boot lace.

This was not going as she had planned. She needed to learn when it was appropriate to keep to herself, especially when it came to elves and people that didn’t care for physical contact. She’d obviously done something wrong, but she didn’t know how to apologize without making things worse.

A sharp gust of wind snaked up through the three and raised the hair on Yin’s arms. She ordered herself not to shiver. Maybe she should just leave now. At least she knew that Legolas was fine, but he didn’t seem to want her company, and she was going to get sick if she pushed herself to stay out in the open far longer than necessary. She sniffed.

“It is not the sensitivity of my ears, either.”

Yin flicked at a clod of dirt on her shoe. She didn’t feel like looking at him. Yes, she should go. She couldn’t very well leave Aragorn and Gimli by themselves, anyway.

“You caught me off guard, is all.”

Her fidgeting hands stilled. Was that all? Mission success, if she hadn’t also made him storm off like the physicality had been abusive. She forced her eyes to remain fixed on the toe of her boot. If she looked up, she would be tempted to linger. 

“Yin,”

The wind wasn’t blowing yet, but she shivered anyway.

“I do not mean trespass, I speak truthfully.” He shifted where he was, and the tips of his hair dipped into her line of sight. “Your actions did no harm. I apologize if I made you think as much. Elves simply do not… we do not indulge as heavily in physical touch or contact as some other peoples. I did not expect it.”

Of course not. But then it only meant that Yin had stepped over the boundaries. “I made you uncomfortable,”

There was a soft breath. He leaned forward. “You did,” 

His cool fingers brushed against her chin and tilted her head up. He was smiling. A small, intrigued smile that did not entirely negate his earlier frown, but it was a smile nonetheless. “However, did I not also make you uncomfortable by intentionally ‘sneaking around’ these past few weeks?”

Yin’s lips parted. She couldn’t do much besides blink for a couple of seconds. But then she was able to whisper, “I knew you were doing it on purpose!”

Legolas chuckled and pulled his hand away. Despite the surrounding chill, Yin missed the touch almost immediately. She really did belong in a tavern.

“Be assured, Gilith , it was no offense. You do not need to apologize, lo, I would even say we are even, now.”

That seemed to be his official note of forgiveness. Yin had been prepared to grovel. It was almost too easy. But he had relaxed, and the mystic characteristic of his seeable expression had melted away, leaving open honesty. Did he truly not mind as much as he said? Yin wished he had thus returned to camp sooner; his absence had led her to believe he’d been unnerved. But there was none of that. If he was pretending to be at ease now, he was doing a perfect job of it.

“Verily? You… you do not mind?” Yin needed to hear it again. Just to be sure.

“Of course not.” And then he scrutinized her carefully, noting, “You seem awful concerned that I might.”

That was it for Yin. She hurriedly unfolded herself and started stepping down to a lower branch. “Think nothing of it.” She muttered, and ducked her head to hide her flushing cheeks, because he would probably be able to see them even in the dark. 

Of course she was concerned. He was her friend, and she liked him. She liked their relationship, and she valued his company, and his feelings mattered to her. Why else would she be concerned?

It wasn’t as though she felt attracted to him at all. That was most certainly not the reason.

Her landing was almost soundless as she jumped from the last tree branch, and Yin was very proud at that moment. She might also have been proud of being able to climb the tree in the first place, because she used to be very bad at that, but she didn’t lightly dwell on either. 

Everything was alright now. She could go back to camp, in a couple of hours, she’d even be able to sleep. When the sun rose, things would be as they had been. Though, hopefully sans the back and forth between her and the elf.

“Legolas, I’m going to go back to camp. Return at your leisure but pray, don’t remain here too long…” She squinted up through the branches. She could have sworn it had been easier to see him the first time around. “Alright, Bee?”

For a beat, there was no response, but then he touched her shoulder from behind and backed away quickly before she could decapitate him with her reflexes. 

“Very well,”

At that moment, Yin was absolutely out of things to say. All she could do was make like Aragorn and bury her face in her hands to hide her smile and embarrassment. She deserved that, she supposed.

Legolas approached again. He must have followed her down without making a single squeak of noise, blast. Yin was completely lost.

“Well come along, Gilith ,” He said and tapped her elbow. “I shall accompany you at my leisure. Are we to be going?”

Yin drew her fingers from her face and stared at him. The nerve of this beautiful, annoying elf. His smile was full-blown, playful, mischievous, and Yin had the sudden, urging desire to kiss him.

But that probably would have been out of line, and she didn’t want to give herself an additional something to apologize to the elven race for. So she settled for brushing his hair behind his ears.

“Yes, let us be off.”