Another chapter out so soon?  Is our author neglecting her schoolwork and annoying her bosses at work?  Yes, she is-- but gladly so.  Enjoy!

Thanks to my reviewers and to Daisy for being a great beta!

Chapter Ten- Eavesdropping and Staring Contests

Olihre was sorely tempted to fling his boiled potatoes across the table at the smirking little waif who dared question his abilities.  The only thing that kept him from doing so was the man sitting next to the girl, looking complacent but also very…large.

“Don’t despair-- I’m sure you’ll be toughened up by the end of this adventure.”

How dare she?  First she had crudely cut him down from a trap of her OWN making, humiliating him in front of his companions, then she had stolen his knife, and now…now she was questioning his strength?

A low growl escaped Olihre’s pursed lips as he glared at the girl.  “I don’t need toughening,” he murmured, “I need solace from…from…”  Olihre let out a groan of frustration.  He knew that he was behaving badly and that it wouldn’t do to insult his traveling companions or their hosts, but he was having a difficult time understanding how they could all just sit around smiling while he was being treated as such.  “I’m fine,” he muttered after several uncomfortable moments, his voice resounding with impatient finality.

Hyelir cleared his throat conspicuously.  “Imliné, haven’t we got an apple tart for dessert tonight?”

The petite woman smiled appreciatively at her husband while nodding.  “We do.  I’ll go and get it…if you’re all ready?”

Heads bobbed up and down around the table.  Gimli yawned and reached for his goblet.  “Madame, this dinner was delightful; I can only imagine what dessert will do to my underdeveloped palette.”

Imliné chuckled.  “Underdeveloped?  Don’t tell me you eat the rocks as well as mine them?” 

Gimli nearly squirted the cider he was drinking right out of his nose.  “Ha!  Clever you are!  I will have to remember that one!”  Legolas rolled his eyes and snorted, bringing several pairs of shocked eyes his way.

Imliné just stood and shook her head as she made her way towards the iron cooking stove in the corner of the room.  From it she pulled a warm and fragrant tart, carameled juices bubbling at its surface.  Even Olihre looked appreciatively at the creation, which Imliné began sprinkling with unrefined sugar.  The tart was cut and divided, and a peaceful silence ensued as it was devoured with much enthusiasm. 

Olihre made a concerted effort to remove the scowl that had previously occupied his face.  His elbows were now politely at his sides and his head was raised rather than dropped in consternation.  Every now and then he would glance at the others at the table, all of whom were thoroughly engaged in their meals.  Most often he would sneak glances at Imlyana, attempting to ascertain whether or not his first impressions of her were accurate. 

She did have rather large lips, but he soon found, much to his dismay, that when they were engaged in eating or smiling, they were not half as bad as when they were smirking, or more specifically, when they were smirking at him.  Her eyes, though at that moment veiled by thick lashes, were rather large, but not in a buggish sort of way.  Rather they were perfectly round and almost wholly occupied by the dark black pupil and iris of the same color.  Her cheekbones were nearly as pronounced as his horses, as he had earlier surmised, but he decided that it could have something to do with the short hair that framed them so strikingly.

Olihre continued studying the girl in intermittent glances, being careful not to be observed by her father or mother.  Imlara caught him staring a few times, but all Olihre had to do was grimace and she would quickly turn away with a disapproving frown.

It was on one of these occasions that he returned his gaze back to the older girl after having grimaced at the younger, when he found the enormous black eyes trained on him.  Only now they did not hold an impish twinkle or a glaring smirk, but rather they were questioning and thoughtful, boldly continuing their search even after being discovered.

Olihre quickly looked down, feeling her distracting gaze ever on him.  His plate emptied too readily and soon he was found with nothing else to command his attention.  Though he still felt a tingling sensation upon his skin, he chanced a look up, hoping it was only his overactive imagination. 

She was still watching him.  He looked down again quickly, and then up once more, setting his jaw and trying to look unaffected.  She turned one corner of her mouth up slightly and her eyes slowly filled with mirth.

So she is trying to upset me, is she?  I am not so easily had!  Olihre took a deep but quiet breath and steeled himself emotionally before looking up again and staring into her eyes, determined not to look away until she did.

After a moment of confrontation, as she no doubt found that she was being challenged, Imlyana’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  Soon though they returned to their accustomed spot, and her smile grew wider.  She did not blink nor avert her gaze, but kept it firmly affixed to his, which appeared obstinate and rather desperate.  He did not smile as she did, but kept his mouth shut tightly, his eyes narrowed in either concentration or anger, she could not tell which.

This game continued for some time until finally, the others at the table could take it no longer.  A burst of laughter came from beside Olihre, forcing him to lose his concentration and turn to his right.  Legolas was leaning across his plate, his fair hair nearly dropping into his almost finished tart.  He had his arms wrapped around his waist and his eyes were closed in a desperate attempt to keep the tears from spilling forth.

Olihre looked at the others around the table who were also laughing, some rocking themselves back and forth, others leaning their heads back against their chairs and covering their faces with their forearms.

“What?” Olihre snapped.

Imlara wiped her eyes with her sleeve and hiccupped.  “You two look so stupid!”

Hyelir looked apologetically at Olihre and shook his head.  “Nay friend, ‘stupid’ is not the word.  Merely…well…strange.  Yes, strange.”

“I won.”

Olihre’s head snapped back around to look down the table at the young woman.  “You what?” he asked in an incredulous tone.

Imlyana smiled at him, though it held none of the condescension or disdain that he had expected.  “You looked away first-- I won.”

Olihre considered his next words carefully, taking care not to cede to her any gain, but also not sure that he could support a claim of victory himself.  “You can’t win a game if none was being played.”

“Oh?” Imlyana widened her eyes even more and looked questioningly at him.  “Why were you staring at me then?”

Olihre reddened immensely at this.  Cursing his inability to control his facial features as well as the elves, he grinned rather boyishly and shrugged.  “You won.”

*          *          *

Olihre slept surprisingly well that night, despite the chill in the stables where they had insisted on sleeping.  Hyelir had offered them palettes next to the cooking stove, but Legolas did not deem it appropriate being as how the girls’ quarters were just down the short hallway.

“Nay, we will gladly stay in your stables and keep our horses company.” He had said, sending a semi-accusatory glance towards Olihre before turning back to Hyelir.  “We would hate to be a distraction to your fair children.”

Hyelir had laughed knowingly and winked at Olihre, who had blushed again, knowing that he would not be seeing an end to the taunting anytime soon.  And so it was, that even the next morning, no one had forgotten his staring contest.

“Sweet dreams, Lad?” Gimli queried as he rolled up his sleeping bundle.

“Uh huh,” Olihre grunted, doing his best to ignore the grinning dwarf.

Legolas perched next to the young man and watched him shine his boots with a scrap of leather.  “If those dark eyes held you so captive in a crowded room, I can only imagine how besotted you might find yourself in a dream, with no one around to interrupt you.”

“Quiet,” Olihre demanded, though with very little inflection in his voice.

“Ah, but you do not deny it, Lad?”  Gimli was now sitting on his rolled up bed.

“I do not deny it because I have no need to.  One should not have to defend himself against completely baseless claims.”  Olihre looked determined and Legolas was about to admit defeat when the young man opened his mouth again, much to the delight of both companions.  “Besides, her eyes don’t captivate me-- I was merely proving to her that her silly games have no effect on me.”

“Well, you sure showed her!”

Three heads spun around at the sound of a female voice coming from the large stable doors.  Imlyana stood with a pail of oats in one hand, and a pail of turnip roots in the other. 

Olihre groaned and dropped his head into his hands, the black oil from the leather scrap leaving a generous mark on his forehead and cheek.  “What do you want?” he asked in a muffled voice, not daring to look at the faces of his companions.

“I’ve been sent to feed the horses, and to tell you all that if you’d like your share, you should be in the house by the time I’m done.”  Imlyana promptly set about to her work, ignoring the three travelers who sat in awkward silence.  Even Legolas, who had instantly reprimanded himself for not hearing her footsteps, seemed at a loss for words.

Finally, Gimli stood and made his way over to the young woman, insisting that he be allowed to help.  She had originally wrinkled her nose at his offer, her independent spirit taking hold, but had finally relented and allowed him to distribute the turnip roots. 

“You’ll have to hurry quicker now that I’ve got an assistant.”  Imlyana shouted over her shoulder, laughing at Gimli’s pleased expression.  Her demeanor was deliberate and open, as if the whole of Middle-Earth were listening to her small-talk. 

Gimli admired the girl’s confidence and told her as much, noting with satisfaction that she seemed slightly uncomfortable at the compliment.

“I’m just restless,” she amended, taking the empty pail from Gimli’s hands and walking back to stand in front Olihre and Legolas.  “I often pretend that I have an audience; life is less dull that way.”

“Really?  Did your audience applaud when you dropped me on my head yesterday?” Olihre asked in a humbled but still edgy voice.

Imlyana feigned introspection for a moment and then shook her head almost regretfully.  “No, in fact they were all insisting that I leave you strung up there.  It seems you’ve made a few enemies in the world of non-existence.”

Olihre didn’t even try to restrain the incredulous bursts of laughter that erupted from deep within his chest as he threw himself backwards into a pile of course hay and rubbed his eyes harshly with the heels of his hands.  “Perhaps I’m not the only one who has been dropped on their head recently!  Imaginary audiences-- ha!  And to think, I was intimidated by you!”

Imlyana raised one eyebrow defensively as an evil smile spread across her face with an alarming speed.  “Well, Horse Master’s Apprentice from Edoras, not all of us have the privilege of keeping such company,” she nodded her head to indicate Legolas and Gimli.  “Some of us can only fantasize in our dreams of having such companions.”  With a wink at the two aforementioned companions, she turned on her heel and waltzed out of the stables, leaving three nearly scandalized persons behind her.

*          *          *

Needless to say, breakfast was slightly uncomfortable, though perhaps not so bad as dinner had been the previous night.  Imlyana was unusually silent, though her roaming eyes never ceased in their expeditions, and her pleased smile never faltered.  Hyelir and his wife noticed the cumbersome atmosphere and repeatedly looked at each other with questioning eyes, but neither seemed to know what the matter could be.

Legolas made a valiant effort to keep a light conversation flowing, but the looks that his hosts were trading back and forth, mixed with several stiff and deliberate throat clearings by Gimli, made it extremely difficult to accomplish an easy exchange.

Meanwhile, Olihre had regressed back into his slouched and withdrawn stance, focusing on the bread pudding that he was eating rather than the strained conversation that was drifting back and forth.

Finally the meal was over and the children were all set to work cleaning up.  Hyelir left to prepare the three horses that his children would ride, while Imliné made the rounds to several different cellars and storehouses, preparing a veritable feast to be taken with the group on their journey.

Gimli offered to help a rather awestruck young Hyelif with his snares, something that he knew very little about, but overconfidently brushed away without much thought, and Olihre and Legolas left for the stables to prepare their own horses. 

When they stepped inside, Olihre looked around dramatically and then turned to Legolas.  “Keep a ready ear, my friend, who knows when that she-wolf will appear.”

Legolas chuckled and handed Olihre a length of cord.  “You are too easily flustered, Horse Master’s Apprentice from Edoras.”

Olihre had begun tying their provisions onto their steeds, but stopped at Legolas’s jibe.  With a deliberate sneer he offered, “You didn’t seem so very unaffected when she admitted her wont for dreaming about you.”

Legolas couldn’t argue there, though he had really been more shocked than anything else. 

“What disturbs me, my friend, is that Gimli was involved in those dreams as well.”

“Yes, though he seemed to enjoy her admission,” Olihre said cynically, deciding to cease the argument he had begun with the elf and turn his attentions instead to the dwarf who was not there to defend himself. 

“Gimli has ever been a glutton of female attention, even when it is only in the form of a dream, and even when he has to share it with an elf.” Legolas looked smug as he took the reigns to Olihre’s horse and started out the stable doors, whistling lightly to bring his own steed along behind.

“I’m just glad I wasn’t involved in any dreams or fantasies of her making.” Olihre was jogging to keep up with the swift footed elf and long-legged horses.

“Indeed not,” Legolas replied dryly.  “The horror it would induce-- you being involved in the dreams of an attractive maiden-- what could be more nightmarish?”

Olihre narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, though the elf was still facing away from him.  “It’s not that I am not worth dreaming about, I’ll have you know.”

Legolas tried diligently to suppress the patronizing laughter that was bubbling up within him.  Turning to face Olihre, he asked, “Oh really?  Is that what you’ve been told or do you often dream of yourself with happy result?” 

Olihre made a disgusted face and shook his head.  “Why she would even dream of you is a mystery to me.  At least I…wha…er…”  A series of unsure noises proceeded from Olihre’s mouth before he decided that nothing he could say would sound anything less than infantile and weak.  He could not think of a single thing that would make Imlyana prefer to dream of him and not of Legolas.

Legolas looked triumphant as he turned back around and continued leading the horses towards the main house.  Olihre just shook his head.  Stupid elf.