Legolas stopped too quickly for Aragorn to avoid him, who then ran into the back of the elf at a full run. The elf clenched his muscles to stop himself falling into the gorse bushes, but only just succeeded.

“Be careful where you are pushing me!” he hissed

“Be careful where you are stopping,” Aragorn shot back.

The elf did not answer. He cast his eyes across the path they were taking and looked increasingly worried as the seconds ticked by. “Why are we whispering?”

“I am whispering because you are whispering. Why are you whispering?” Aragorn asked, his eyes surveyed the forest ahead of them, but he could see nothing. “What is it? Orcs?”

“No, far worse,” Legolas whispered.

Aragorn frowned. “What can be worse than orcs?”

“Wild men, ten of them.”

“Only ten?” Aragorn frowned deeper still. “We can get round them easily enough. What is there to worry about?”

“Ten, there may be, but they are also in possession of elf nets. They have cast them all along the ridge.”

“Elf nets,” Aragorn voiced in growing alarm. “Ok, that is worse than orcs.”

“And they know we are coming,” Legolas added. “An elf can see the nets, but you are not elf-kind. The trap is set for you.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because . . .” Legolas listened intently to something far beyond Aragorn’s range of hearing. “They speak of orders from their master, to capture and kill the son of Arathorn.” Legolas turned his eyes to his friend. “So unless you have a brother you are not telling me about, it means you are expected.”

Aragorn considered this. “Alright, ten times worse than orcs.” He looked out across the ridge, seeing nothing but trees. “So . . .how do we get passed them?”

“Without falling into the nets?”

“That is the idea,” Aragorn stated with irony.

Legolas was silent for some time and shook his head a little, and a moment later did it again, as if giving himself silent suggestions and then rejecting each one. “I have no ideas.”

Aragorn sighed. “The only way I can think of to get by them is to distract them, cause a diversion of some kind.”

“That would be obvious,” Legolas replied. “But how do you distract a group of men?”

Aragorn considered the matter carefully. “As a man . . .if I were to put myself in their shoes, what would draw me from my post . . .? Ale . . .we have none. A fight . . .too risky. Song . . .that would be too obvious.” Slowly, very slowly, his eyes lifted to Legolas’ face. “A woman . . .a voluptuous, sensual woman.”

Legolas’ brows knit together. “We do not have a woman . . .” His eyes suddenly widened. “Oh no . . .no, do not look at me that way . . .I . . .”

“Would be perfect,” Aragorn finished.

“You do not want to do what you are thinking . . .I do not want to do what you are thinking . . .”

“Your people believe that there are only three things in Middle Earth that are more lovely than gold and silver. The Lady Galadriel . . .”

“She is not here.”

“Arwen Undomiel . . .”

“Also not here . . .”

“And you . . .”

Legolas’ mouth opened, but nothing came out. His face turned white. “I am not a woman. I am an elf.”

“And very lovely to look upon,” Aragorn added.

Legolas shoulders slumped in resignation. He sighed and removed his quiver and bow. “Hold these. And if you speak one word of this, to anyone . . .ever . . .” he warned.

Aragorn nodded, straight faced. “Absolutely not, upon my life . . .”

“Pinky swear.”

Aragorn linked pinkies. “I swear, not a word, to anyone, ever. You will be fine. If they get too much for you, just jump up into the trees. It will work, trust me.”

“I have no doubt that it will work, but how far do you think they will expect to go?”

Aragorn rolled his lips between his teeth and said nothing. “I owe you one,” he said softly as Legolas removed his braids and combed his fingers through his hair.

Legolas snorted. “You owe me ten, one for each man.” He slid a knife into his boot, just in case. “And stop grinning when you think I am not looking.” He removed his arm guards and his jerkin and handed them to his friend. “How do I look?”

Aragorn leaned forward with a perusing eye. “Good enough to kiss.”

“Do not push your luck,” Legolas warned and walked off into the woods.

Aragorn did not even attempt to suppress the grin.

“I can see you grinning,” Legolas threw over his shoulder without turning, impossible though it was, but it was enough to sober the man.

Aragorn could hear voices, and shortly after that a sweet beguiling elven voice. He gasped softly at the words, most of which left nothing to the imagination. He had been unaware that Sindarin had such words, or that elves even had words for . . .

His head jerked up at the sound of tearing cloth.

“Easy there, my love. It took me hours to weave this shirt,” he heard a husky voice scold gently. Laughter followed. “One at a time now. Oooh! You are in a hurry, been that long?”

Aragorn continued through the trees, his dagger held out in front of him finding a barrier before him. Stepping closer he had to almost be touching the strands before he could see it. His dagger carefully cut through the strands and he stepped through. Keeping the dagger extended before him, just in case, he continued.

“Oooh!” a soft voice exclaimed. “And who’s side of the family did you learn that from?”

Aragorn swallowed and moved on. He had gone almost six miles beyond the forest glade before he decided to stop. If he went too far Legolas would never find him, not far enough and the wild men would. He sat down in a defensible location amongst the trees and sighed, wondering how long it would be before Legolas could get away.

Aragorn watched the sun traverse the sky, and looked back through the forest, wondering. It had been two hours already. Where could he be? Had he done the right thing? Was it even a good idea? Was Legolas even alive to regret his actions?

A thump on the ground behind him made him gasp and whirl, dagger already drawn. Legolas stood there, eyes like ice, his jaw set. The elf’s hand came up so fast, it almost took Aragorn’s nose off.

“If you ever, and I mean EVER, make me do that again, I swear . . .”

Aragorn watched him swoon and collapse to the leafy floor. “Are you alright?” he asked worriedly.

Legolas turned green and for a moment Aragorn thought he was going to heave. For a moment, so did Legolas. “Men! You taste so disgusting!” he huffed. “Tea! And lots of it,” he grumbled as an after thought. “It will take weeks to get this taste out of my mouth.”

Aragorn set about lighting a fire. “So . . .how far did you have to go?”

Legolas levelled a hard stare straight at him. “Would you like me to show you?” he asked sweetly, the tone not reaching his eyes.

Aragorn had the good sense to blanche.

El fin