Hello my loverly reviewers!  I am forever grateful to you for reading my humble little story!  I submitted my previous story to be posted on the Henneth-Annun Story Archive, and the responses I received are posted below.  They really gave me a lot of insight that I hadn’t yet even considered, but boy did it humble me as well!  Live and learn!  Good thing I’m doing this for fun!

Before you get too bored, let me mention my thanks to DaisyPrincess for being such a wonderful beta and fellow fanfic writer!  Also, if you would like to read a very well-paced and well written story, check out Galorin’s ‘Lilacs.’  It is beautiful, and currently in the works, so there isn’t too much catching up to do!  Find it in my favorite’s section.

From Henneth-Annun:

Alone Among Masses  -  Status:  Decline  

• Reviewer #1 - Declined:
  Capsule Reason: Weak or unlikely characterizations
  Reviewer Comments: The reviewer has declined to provide a detailed review.
• Reviewer #2 - Declined:
  Capsule Reason: Weak plotting and/or weak ending
  Reviewer Comments: Let me explain. My chief complaint with this story is while it is advertised as "An insightful tale of Eomer, King of Rohan-- his struggles, joys, friends, and family," it really is the story of Xanthe and her brother. Eomer is in it, but the main character, and person the story focuses on is Xanthe. So I think you have a bit of misleading advertising here.
  I will admit she is not Mary Sue. She is a likeable OFC, but if you're going to write a story about Eomer, then it needs to focus on Eomer and his thoughts, and deeds. Not hers.
  And not to be nit-picky, but you've got some spelling errors in there that yank a reader right out of the story:
  Cantor is a singer who leads prayers, canter is what a horse does
  Horses are directed by reins, not reigns (those are what a king does -- he reigns over a kingdom)
  My suggestion, and you certainly do not have to take it, is to either change the story to be about Xanthe, as it already is, and her observations regarding Eomer and his family, or re-write it so it is about Eomer. I'd not re-write it myself...it's a charming story, but it's not about the King of Rohan.
  I'm sorry, but the way it is right not I think is too misleading to any reader to be approved. Thank you though and I hope you keep writing.
• Reviewer #3 - Declined:
  Capsule Reason: Undistinguished writing
  Reviewer Comments: The reviewer has declined to provide a detailed review.
• Reviewer #4 - Declined:
  Capsule Reason: Undistinguished writing
  Reviewer Comments: The reviewer has declined to provide a detailed review.
• Reviewer #5 - Declined:
  Capsule Reason: Inappropriate modernisms/Too much non-JRRT
  Reviewer Comments: Your writing has a lot of promise, so don't get discouraged. I did have trouble with this story as there were many modernisms which I found jarring. I suggest a beta reader, both for the modernisms and the occasional typos and punctuation errors I saw.
  Modern words such as "lifestyle" break the flow, but even more the tone is very modern, so that the story appears to be a modern one that is dressed up as Middle-earth. I think this is a difficult problem for many authors, and can be overcome.
  The reader who sees things like 'Mum' 'Lie down sweetie' and other words and phrases that would seem to have no place in middle earth, will have trouble appreciating the good points in your story because of this. One thing that bothered me that may not bother others were some of the names - they did not seem to belong to Gondor, or Middle-earth for that matter.
• Reviewer #6 - Declined:
  Capsule Reason: Undistinguished writing
  Reviewer Comments: The reviewer has declined to provide a detailed review.
• Reviewer #7 - Declined:
  Capsule Reason: Weak or unlikely characterizations
  Reviewer Comments: The first few chapters didn't get me interested in the story (I didn't find how you described Eomer as plausible), and the chapter titles for the rest didn't seem promising. I did a heavy skim of the last chapter and a few other places: it seemed to be a soap opera and I didn't care about the troubles of the characters.
  Some further notes: You have characters following a river "down" to Edoras wouldn't be approaching from Gondor. I believe I saw "guinea fowl" -- inappropriate name, it refers to modern geography. In general, the original character names didn't work well "Insightful" shouldn't be in the summary -- that implies a special endorsement by the site organizers.
  Good luck writing!
  Julie -- julifolo@ux1.cso.uiuc.edu
• Reviewer #8 - Approved
  Capsule Reason: Strong characterizations
  Reviewer Comments: The reviewer has declined to provide a detailed review.
• Reviewer #9 - Declined:
  Capsule Reason: Implausible situations/solutions
  Reviewer Comments: I was happy to see a new, strong-willed woman in Middle-earth, and the concept was original, but the overall impact of the story was not such that I feel it is the "cream of the crop" as should be in the archive. Xanthe was an interesting name choice, but rather startling as I don't think I've run across any creature or person throughout the Ardaverse whose name begins with an "X."

Well, at least I’ve got my midnight showing of ROTK tickets to keep me happy!  Enjoy!  ~Lily

Chapter Fifteen- Picking Your Battles

Imlyana struggled forward into the night with both of her hands captured behind her in an unyielding grip, all while a slender blade was held coldly to her throat.  Every now and then she would stumble, but without her arms for balance, her entire body would lurch forward, causing the knife to bite painfully into her neck.  Her unfeeling captor would then jerk her back up, nearly wrenching her arms from their sockets as her tendons were pushed to their limit.  This physical pain, however, did not concern Imlyana so much as did the scene in front of her.  She watched Olihre’s back as they trudged on, stiff and straight in obvious fury, his steps deliberately rebellious.  He bore the body language of one who was in a furor. 

He must hate me.  Imlyana thought to herself in resignation.  If I hadn’t been so clumsy and loud… or even come in the first place!  She thought back to her sister’s desperate instructions.  Why didn’t we just trust him?

After a few more dark and strained minutes, the group arrived back at the camp, the fire still burning merrily, oblivious to the absence of its creators.  The blonde man led the way, pushing Olihre down to his knees several feet from the glowing warmth, against a moldy wall of straw and plaster.  Imlyana was also forced to her knees, a few feet from Olihre.  She immediately turned her back to him in shame, but not before he had caught a glimpse of a thin red line across her neck.

“You cut her!”  Olihre roared incredulously as he glared at the dark, scruffy man. 

“She should’ve been more careful with her steps!” he taunted, still standing over Imlyana as she cowered beneath his raking gaze.

“How could she with her arms pinned behind her and you pushing her all the way!”  Olihre was furious at these men who had no sense of decorum.  One never treated a Lady like this, not even if they were your prisoner.

As if reading his mind, the darker man adopted an expression of mock concern.  “Forgive me,” he sneered, crouching down next to Imlyana before raising her chin with his grimy fingers, “Should I draw you a bath then?  Would you like me to darn your socks?  Or perhaps I can let you ride me around like a mule?”

Imlyana jerked her chin out of his grasp and growled fiercely, “You are not fit to be a mule, you foul…” Before she could finish the sentence, her head flew back and her cheek felt as though it had caught fire as the man raised his hand to strike her again.  Olihre lunged forward at the man but only fell hard upon his boot as his bound hands were pinned painfully beneath his body. 

“Enough!” roared the blond man.  “Ghrevn, they left their horses at the black building-- go and get them!”

Ghrevn stood but did not turn to depart.  “Who left ‘em, Dorgan?  Are there more than just these two?”  He cast a mistrustful glance at Olihre and Imlyana

The blond man leered menacingly at his captives.  “You spoke of another-- who was it?”

Imlyana turned her head slightly and looked at Olihre, her eyes pleading.  Olihre set his shoulders and narrowed his eyes.  “Only a young girl.  She has set off to hunt and will be gone for hours.”  He combined several truthful statements into a lie without so much as blinking.  Surely a small girl would not threaten them?

“A young girl?  Off by to hunt by herself in the dead of night with no one to protect her?  Do I look stupid to you?”  Dorgan bent over Olihre, yelling so close to his face that Olihre could see the stained gold  inside of his mouth.

“She is!” Olihre insisted as Imlyana gave him another desperate look.  “The three of us are here hunting.  These lands are considered safe-- we saw no need to take unnecessary precautions...”

“That’ll be you last mistake then, won’t it?” Ghrevn taunted.

“Ghrevn, fetch the horses!  Do not return until the girl has.  If she is alone, bring her with you.  If she is not, kill her and whoever she brings!” 

Imlyana gasped as Ghrevn smiled with glee and walked out of the firelight into the darkness.  She knew that Imlara was likely far away by now and safe with the others, but still the thought of her sister walking into a trap horrified her.  “But she isn’t involved in this-- she didn’t even see your fire.  We,” Imlyana nodded her head at Olihre, “only came because we were curious!”

“Your point?” Dorgan droned in a bored voice.  “You think she won’t come looking when she comes back and finds you gone?”

“Why does it matter?” Imlyana demanded.  “If you aren’t doing anything wrong, then why does it matter if we have seen you?”

“No witness, no questions, no trouble.” Dorgan said simply.  “And, none of your business, you filthy wretch!”

Olihre had heard enough.  Pushing himself roughly against the wall, he flew at Dorgan, who was knocked off balance for only a moment before throwing Olihre back onto the ground with all his might.  Olihre sat up with difficulty, only to find that Dorgan was using his own sword to pin Imlyana to the ground, the tip of the broad blade resting heavily upon her rapidly rising and falling chest.

“Olihre, no!” Imlyana screamed as he made to lunge again.  Olihre blinked, looking down at her through eyes clouded in outrage.  “He’ll kill us both!” she whimpered, pleading with him to back away.

Dorgan said nothing, merely stood patiently watching the exchange, a certain amount of amusement in his eyes.  Finally, when Olihre backed away and slumped against the wall in defeat, he spoke.  “Wise decision-- I think I have already made it clear to you that I will not hesitate to eliminate any problems.”

“Then why are we still here?” Olihre demanded in a raspy voice, hatred causing his throat to close-up involuntarily.

“Because I don’t believe your story-- I don’t know if you three are alone, or if you have an entire army with you as well!  As long as I keep you here, no one will dare intrude upon us!” Dorgan paused for a moment to gather his rampant emotions and then asked in an almost demure voice, “Understand?”

Olihre was tempted to inform his captor that the others would indeed dare to intrude, especially if it meant punishing anyone who had the nerve to treat a lady the way these two had.  He knew, however, that their feigned story was the safest for now.  Surely Legolas and Gimli would check the blacksmith’s shop first to see if they had made it back, and Legolas would be able to smell Ghrevn’s stench before the coward even realized they had come.

Olihre grunted his reply, his normally dark green eyes almost black with loathing.  Dorgan smiled mockingly, “I haven’t any twine, and I certainly do not feel like standing guard over you all night when there is a lovely fire awaiting me.”  He took a single step while simultaneously raising the hilt of Olihre’s sword, before bringing it down hard across the young man’s right temple.  Imlyana looked up at Dorgan in fear as Olihre’s limp form fell into her lap.  Blood matted his long hair, running in rivulets down his forehead and over his closed eyes.  Dorgan smiled down on her in a most terrifying way.  “You won’t run now, will you?”        

*          *          *

Imlara was not sure how to feel.  Part of her was immensely relieved to have found the others so quickly, while another part of her felt foolish for being so worried in the first place.  Now that she was back in the company of the others, everything seemed safer and she was having trouble recalling exactly why she had felt so unsettled in the first place.  She hoped that nothing was wrong, that they had been mistaken about the ill tidings they had all felt, though at the same time, she would feel quite the fool for making such a big deal out of it, if indeed the strangers turned out to be friendly.

Legolas seemed to be reading her thoughts as he turned upon his steed with an empathetic smile.  “It is always better to be safe than to be sorry, Imlara.  I too felt an ill boding earlier this day-- it was wise for you to come; though I wish Olihre and Imlyana had followed you rather than taken this responsibility upon themselves.”

Imlara flinched guiltily as her horse slowed to keep pace with the Legolas’s.  “Olihre was convinced that it was his responsibility to protect us, but it was me…I’m the one who told Imlyana to follow him.  I thought if we came back with you and he was not there, we would never know what had happened.  I guess I’ve made an enormous mess, haven’t I?” 

Legolas shook his head.  “We will learn soon what was needed, but whatever the outcome, do not overly assign blame to yourself, this is not a situation that I would expect such a young girl to be familiar with.”

Imlara frowned deeply at this description of herself.  “I’m not so very young, you know…” she mumbled quietly, though she knew that Legolas would hear it.  “I’m old enough.”

Legolas nodded accommodatingly, obviously misreading her concern.  “It is sad to me that children so young as you are forced to grow up so quickly.  Among my people, the very young are kept as securely naive as possible.  Very few have been forced to abandon their childhood so quickly.”  Imlara scowled again, though Legolas could not understand what upset her so.  Smiling at her once more, he turned on his horse and urged it into a faster pace.

*          *          *

Imlyana wrapped her arms around Olihre’s battered head, watching with trepidation as his breathing became more and more shallow.  His body was cooling rapidly in the frigid temperature that surrounded them, and all Imlyana could think to do was to gather his arms and drape them across his chest in an effort to conserve his body’s warmth.  She shuffled slightly so that her back rested against the decaying wall and pulled Olihre further into her lap, managing to keep most of his back off of the cold and muddy ground.

Every now and then she would glance toward the fire, watching as Dorgan took swigs from his hip-flask.  He would catch her eye sometimes, shooting disgusted looks at her before turning around and chuckling to himself. 

“Olihre?” she whispered quietly, rubbing her thumb over his uninjured temple.  “Wake up, please!”  Olihre did not stir.  The bleeding had stopped, but his wound was deep and already forming a large purple mound.  “Olihre, I’m so sorry…” she whispered again, leaning into him so closely that her chin rested lightly upon his upturned cheek.  “I’ll never forgive myself for this, and I don’t expect you to either, but please just believe that I am sorry.  Please.”

“…mmm believe you…” Olihre mumbled with his eyes still closed, not moving his lips or any other part of his numbed body. 

“Oli!” she exclaimed, louder than she had meant to.  Dorgan looked over suspiciously and Imlyana quickly launched into a frantic cover-up, rocking back and forth slightly and chanting, “Please wake up, Oli, don’t be hurt, please wake up…”

Dorgan rolled his eyes and scowled at her, but it seemed that her ruse had worked when he finally looked away.  Imlyana leaned in even closer so that her breath warmed him as she spoke.  “Are you all right?” she mouthed, only faint traces of escaping air making any noise. 

“Never better,” he mouthed back as his eyes cracked open very slightly, a faint blush creeping up his already bloodstained cheeks.

“Olihre, I’m so…” Imlyana’s almost inaudible apology was cut off when Olihre, whose arms were crossed over his chest and held by Imlyana, deftly took her hand into his and squeezed it solemnly. 

“Forgive me…” he breathed, hesitating when he felt her body tense, “for being so short with you earlier.  I know you were trying to help, I shouldn’t have been so cruel.”  Imlyana shook her head to protest, but Olihre squeezed her hand even harder and continued.  “And I am sorry about…about what Dorgan said about you and your family.  It wasn’t true.  You are a Lady-- much more deserving of the title than many women I’ve met.”  Olihre paused a moment and continued in an even lower voice.  “You’re beautiful too, even when you’re glaring at me.”

Imlyana blushed, though the night did not reveal it, and whispered shyly, “Thank you.  I know that my family is as good as any, despite our skin color.  We fought against evil and lost our lands and loved ones too.”

Olihre nodded but stopped quickly, flinching at the pain that the movement brought.  Without thinking he raised his free hand to his forehead to feel at the gash that lay there.  From behind him he heard footsteps.  “Awake again, are we?  Apparently I didn’t hit you hard enough the first time.”  He heard Imlyana gasp and then everything was black.

*          *          *

“I left their horses at the butcher’s shop instead of the infirmary where we built our fire.”  Imlara called ahead to Legolas as they galloped onward.  “They should be back by now.”

Legolas looked approvingly at Imlara as he motioned with his hand for them to slow their pace-- they were coming within sight of the first buildings, and he didn’t want to attract any unnecessary attention.  After another few moments of silent riding, Legolas pointed to an old brown building with double doors and a wrap-around porch.  Turning quietly to Imlara smiled reassuringly, “I want you to take your brother and wait in that building.”

Imlara looked like she might protest but bit her tongue and nodded accommodatingly.  Hyelif sighed dejectedly and followed his sister’s horse until it reached the building, where they dismounted and walked around to the back. 

Legolas waited until he was sure they would remain out of sight and then nudged his horse back into a slow walk, his sharp eyes seeking out any movement in the blackness, his ears listening to any sound that was not the wind.  It didn’t take him long to ascertain that Olihre and Imlyana had not yet returned-- he would most certainly have heard them arguing by this point. 

Gimli spoke from behind Legolas, his low voice spreading like a thick sauce over the hollow night air.  “I say we dismount and proceed on foot; I’ve never felt my sharpest while on the back of this creature.”

Legolas smiled knowingly and nodded his head.  The two dismounted and left their horse to wander at will.  Keeping to the shadows of the buildings, they proceeded silently until they saw in the distance a squat building covered in black pitch.  “That is where Imlara left the horses,” Legolas whispered to Gimli.

As they crept nearer to the building Legolas heard the nervous whinny of a horse, followed closely by the stomping of a hoof and a low grunt.  “Someone’s there,” Gimli rumbled, “and the horses don’t like whoever it is.”

The elf nodded and cocked his head to the side to listen.  “The horses are tied up behind the shop-- but they are not alone.”

“Who?” Gimli queried, gripping his ax tightly.

Legolas shook his head.  “Neither Olihre nor Imlyana.  Someone else.”

Gimli growled low in his throat and continued moving towards the building.  Legolas moved from his side to take the lead as they came within a few feet of the front of the building.  As they crept around it they saw a shabby looking figure rifling through the saddlebags of Olihre’s steed.  His back was turned to him and he was chanting a less-than-savory ditty that sounded like something Gimli had heard in a tavern or two upon his travels. 

“Lose something?” Legolas asked in a cool voice, watching in disgusted amusement as the man twisted around so violently that his hat actually flew off of his head.  His dirty black eyes proceeded to narrow angrily, a stark contrast to the wide orbs they had been only a moment ago.

“Lying little fiends!” he hissed as he backed away clumsily, running into the horse who stood like a stone wall in his path.  Legolas could almost see the obstinance in the animal’s eyes as he craned his neck around and bared his teeth at the dark man.

The man immediately reached for his sword, but Legolas had his bow drawn and an arrow fitted into its grooves before the blade was even visible.  “Drop it.” he ordered in an apathetic voice.

The man eyed him warily and then shifted his eyes to take in Gimli’s staunch form.  With an angered curse he threw the sword down at the elf’s feet.  “That was entirely too easy,” Legolas scoffed as he motioned for Gimli to pick up the sword.  “Now, where are our companions?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, elf” The last word was spat out like a poisonous drought. 

“A…MAN…AND…A…WOMAN,” Legolas said slowly, enunciating each syllable with almost painful sharpness.  As he did so he took a step closer, leveling the tip of his arrow to within inches of the man’s heart.  

“Dorgan’s got ‘em…” The man mumbled almost incoherently. 

“Walk.” Legolas ordered as he took another step forward, forcing the man to sidestep him and begin walking.  “If you make a sound I will allow the Dwarf here to cleave you in two.”  Gimli made a very pleased sound and used the head of his ax to prod the man in the back.  Ghrevn looked back angrily but stayed silent as he trudged ahead.

Legolas looked back once to make sure that the younger children had stayed out of sight as they had been told.  The only thing visible was the gleaming white form of his own horse, who wouldn’t be visible to the man’s inferior eyes anyway.  After only a few minutes of walking, Legolas saw the glow of a campfire some ways ahead.  Without a word he reached out and grabbed a handful of the man’s filthy overcoat, turning him sharply to his left and dragging him towards yet another abandoned building.  Gimli looked on curiously but did not say anything as Legolas proceeded to bind the man’s hands with a strap of leather.

Pushing him to sit against the wall, Legolas crouched down in front of the surly man.  “Gimli will not hesitate to dispose of you if you become a problem,”  After this matter-of-fact statement he turned to Gimli.  “I will go and get them.  You stay here-- and keep him quiet.”  Gimli nodded as Legolas glided out of the room and down the road.  He vanished into the darkness within seconds, leaving Gimli to turn back towards his prisoner. 

“Forsaken gold!” the man muttered under his breath.  “Opportunist, ha!  Dorgan’ll get a chest full of metal before he gets a handful of treasure!” 

Gimli narrowed his eyes and readied his ax. 

*          *          *

Imlyana had attempted to revive Olihre again, but to no avail.  It had been quite some time since Ghrevn had left for the horses, and Imlyana knew that she was not the only one who was growing restless.  Dorgan had taken to breaking sticks into small pieces and tossing them bit by bit into the fire, which despite the fuel, was quickly dying down. 

Imlyana turned her head slightly and looked out into the darkness, her despairing half almost expecting to see her sister being brought back as a captive.  She shook her head and frowned, knowing that such a thought could not possibly help her situation; nonetheless, she could not look away from the black emptiness. 

And then suddenly her gaze was caught by a faint flash of light.  She blinked once and focused her eyes more deliberately, but could see nothing.  She continued staring, wondering if perhaps she had imagined it, when suddenly she caught sight of another flash of light-- only it wasn’t light, it was golden hair, covered almost entirely by a dark hood.

Legolas!  Imlyana thought excitedly.  Instinctively her grip tightened around Olihre’s upper body as she shook him gently, attempting to wake him.  Her gaze never left Legolas’s shrouded figure though as he crept ever nearer, until finally he was almost within speaking distance.  She looked at him questioningly as he flashed her a small smile before disappearing behind a wall.

“What’re you looking at?” Dorgan’s speech had become somewhat less distinct, most likely due to too many sips from his hip flask.

Imlyana whipped her head back around and watched helplessly as his imposing figure ambled towards her.  With one hand he reached down and dragged Olihre from her arms, tossing him like a sack of rubbish onto the cold ground beside him. 

“Causing trouble, are we?” He sniggered loosely as he dropped to his knees in front of her and leaned forward.  “You know, I’ve usually got rather high standards concerning who I…associate…with, but seeing as how I’ve already got to put up with Ghrevn…I may as well put you to use too…”  He leaned so far forward that Imlyana could smell the liquor on his breath as she leaned as far back into the wall as she could.  Her hands came up quickly to block his searching ones, but her petite frame was definitely no match for his brawn.

“Get off her.”  Again, Legolas’s command was calm, dispassionate.

Dorgan dropped his hands to form a vice grip around Imlyana’s legs.  His searching eyes turned to where he had left Olihre, the yellow orbs widening in surprised when they found him still lying there unconscious.  His neck then rotated in the other direction, his grip tightening on Imlyana’s thighs, causing her to writhe painfully.  The blonde man quickly reached to draw his dagger, but had only gotten it half way out when his head snapped back and his nose began gushing crimson fluid down his front.

Imlyana didn’t know what to do next.  The man’s grip had hurt her and all she could think of was her need to get his filthy hands off of her.  She knew Legolas could kill him in an instant, but an instant was too much for her.  The heel of her hand had proved quite effective in its upward thrust, and as it connected with the man’s nose, Imlyana felt the cartilage give way under it.  She had then drawn her legs forward and pushed the man off of her with all her might.

As he tumbled backwards she looked up, expecting to see Legolas advancing upon the man.  Instead she saw him holding his bow in one relaxed hand, while his other was attempting to cover the grin on his face.

“What are you doing?” Imlyana shouted in agitation. 

“You seem to have everything under control,” Legolas drawled amusedly as he walked towards the man who was now curled in the fetal position grasping his face in his hands.

“It seems you chose the wrong woman to ‘associate’ with,” he sneered as he rolled Dorgan over with a swift move from his foot. 

“Horrid wench!” the man spurted through his cupped hands and a fair amount of blood.

Imlyana immediately crawled over to Olihre and hauled him back into her lap again, checking to make sure that he hadn’t been re-injured.  He groaned as she pulled at him, but did not open his eyes or speak.  His forehead wrinkled as she prodded the cut on his temple, and his hands half-heartedly came up to stop her, but quickly fell to his sides again as he seemed to fade into a deeper unconsciousness.  “Legolas, he won’t wake up!”

“He’ll be all right,” Legolas said without even looking over at them.  He was too busy binding Dorgan’s hands.

“I seem to remember you saying the same thing when you sent us here with Oli…” Imlyana didn’t finish the sentence but Legolas was not unaware of the accusation imbedded in it.  He was relieved however when he looked over to find her smirking at him in her usual coquettish way.

“Would you rather bind this animal yourself?”

Imlyana narrowed her eyes and looked as if she would launch herself at the incapacitated man at any moment.   “I don’t want to dirty myself by touching him.”  With that she turned back to Olihre and began combing his matted hair through her slim, dark fingers.  She sat there for only a moment before Legolas heaved the man into a standing position with his hands tied behind his back.  He then marched him to the other side of the fire and pushed him roughly against the wall.  “Do not attempt to move,” he said sharply.

He then hastened towards Imlyana again, walking past her and out the wide barn doors into the open air.  Letting out a shrill whistle he waited a moment until he saw his horse hurrying towards him in the distance.  “I am going to get your brother and sister.  Gimli will meet us here with the other man in a moment.”

Imlyana started.  “You’re going to leave us alone with him?”

“He cannot even see straight at the moment,” Legolas snorted.  “Gimli will be here before he can so much as stumble his way around the fire.”

Legolas mounted his horse and galloped off, heading first towards the building where he left Gimli.  Imlyana turned her gaze towards the man, who was slumped over against the far wall.  His eyes were glazed and his head lolled to the side.  She looked back towards Olihre who held a very similar demeanor, and could not help but smile. 

“You do realize that this is the second time I have had to care for you while you were unconscious?” Olihre remained unmoving.  “It’s starting to become a habit, and though it is rather exciting, I fear you are suffering too much for my mere attentions.”  She bent her head low then and placed a comforting kiss upon his cold cheek.  “At least I didn’t have to climb a tree this time…”

Imlyana continued a one-sided conversation for another minute until she heard the low grumbling voice of Gimli as he herded his captive into her view.  He smiled victoriously at her as he passed, pushing the dark haired man roughly beside his companion before returning to her side and sinking to his knees beside her.

“Well, this has been exciting, hasn’t it?” he bellowed loudly as he examined the cut on Olihre’s temple. 

Imlyana arched her eyebrows and looked like she might object but he raised his hand to silence her.  “What say we have some fun with the boy?”

Again, Imlyana’s eyebrows arched, but this time her dark gaze traveled downwards to where Gimli was pulling Olihre’s dagger from his boot.  “He had that all along?” she questioned with a disbelieving chuckle.  “I swear the man is as helpless as a newborn babe!”

Gimli laughed and handed her the dagger.  “No, no, no…” she chanted as she shook her head.  “Remember what a fuss he put up last time?”

Gimli cleared his throat in a patronizingly and rolled his eyes.  “My dear girl, I do believe that is the point.” 

Imlyana failed to stifle an excited giggled, much to her chagrin. 

*          *          *

Olihre woke up to the warmth of a fire burning very near his feet.  “Lyana?” he called in a desperate voice, trying to raise himself into a sitting position as his surroundings swam in and out of view.  He put his hands to his head and tried to steady it as he gazed around.  From behind him he heard a voice just as he felt two hands steady his shoulders, which were shaking rather violently.

“Good, you’re awake.  I was beginning to think I might have to prepare dinner all by myself.”

Olihre turned his head as far as his stiff neck would allow, catching a glimpse of Imlyana’s dark hair out of the corner of his eye.  “What?” he mumbled as he lay back down again, throwing a forearm over his eyes. 

“Well,” Imlyana continued as if this were no new situation to her, “it certainly wouldn’t be right to make the others do all the work, after all, they were the ones who braved the cold rain to catch our dinner in the first place.  And I’m not very well disposed to giving our…guests…any sharp objects at the moment-- perhaps I’m just being silly, but they don’t really strike me as the helpful type.”  Imlyana took a deep but short breath.  “Imlara is busy tending to the horses, though she’s a bit squeamish around dead animals anyway, so my dear, that leaves just you and me.”  Imlyana punctuated the ending of her rambling explanation with the cold slap of a dead rabbit into Olihre’s lap.  

His arm quickly left his face as he narrowed his eyes and glared at Imlyana, who was hovering over him with an impish grin on her face.  He groaned as he drew his knee towards his chest and reached down to his boot.  Imlyana knew when to linger, and when to hide.  This was a good time for the latter.

“My knife!”  A moment’s pause as Olihre struggled into a sitting position.  “Lyana!”

Gimli’s raucous chuckling could be heard from the corner.