"Nárhína!" She had finished speaking with Arwen just moments ago, the sun now fully risen over the horizon and signaling she was almost late to meet the rest of the Fellowship to begin their trek. Yet at the urgency of the voice behind her, the woman stopped in the middle of the corridor, pack slung over one shoulder haphazardly as she turned.

"Glorfindel." The tall golden haired elf strode toward her, his long legs devouring the distance between them before she could fully catch her breath at the unexpected sight of him. It seemed a lifetime ago since they had spoken but the whispers reminded her that it was not so long, not even a day since he left her on the training field, internally agonizing over her own decisions. His dark cloak flared out behind him, revealing thicker and warmer clothing in browns and greens and she remembered with small surprise that he was also leaving with his own task.

"I assumed you would have rode with the dawn," she stated. A presumption that had caused doubt to linger in the darkened corners of her mind. She truly did not understand how to go from here, as if she were lost in fog, her senses dulled. They were both leaving, the threat of death loomed overhead, and communication would be extremely limited if possible at all. And there were secrets, so many secrets, that he did not know, that she did not say before binding them into this troubled dance of courtship.

Lines decorated his cheeks as he smiled and her heart suddenly quickened at the sight.

Traitorous body.

It was soft and gentle and his teeth stayed hidden behind pale pink. Breathing became tighter and shorter as she continued to watch the small transformation in front of her. There were no words, no apt description for the softening of his eyes and what they were doing. One moment he was merely looking at her and then... he was seeing her. She was at a loss by the sudden sharp pain in her chest and did not understand why her throat closed so quickly, choking words before she even thought to speak.

"We were, but I could not find you. Did you truly believe me to leave without seeing you once more?" Yes, that is exactly what she thought and it must have appeared on her face because his breath puffed against her nose in a chuckle. Distracted, she did not fully grasp that he was touching her until his hand had returned down to his side; the trail of fire that singed her cheek and the curl that was neatly tucked back behind her ear the only proof that such an interaction even happened.

He was close, as close as he was that night when she could identify the individual colors of his mostly blue eyes and mentally, Nárhína was panicking.

Pride was such a fickle thing, it tended to be one's downfall more often than it actually aided but when it came to her training, to her abilities – she was wholly confident to know that she was able to maintain control in any situation.

Except, it seemed, for this one.

Unversed did not even begin to describe her modicum of experience in this area. There was a time when she was younger – much, much, younger – when she thought she would need to be proficient in and eventually master the art of seduction and pleasing one's partner; but the contract in which it mattered was dissolved with the end of a war and she was only too happy to terminate any and all training in that particular capacity.

Now, standing in the middle of a deserted hallway with one of the most beautiful elves in existence, his attention and focus directed solely toward her, she desperately wished that she remembered even a few of the teachings or at the very least how to not behave as if she had the cranial capacity of a troll.

It was exceptionally unlike her to act this way. So lost in the mere presence of another that she could scarcely recall how to breathe properly as the world faded at its edges. It was discomfiting, unbecoming for one such as she. It was –

Terrifying.

"Nárhína?" The woman snapped out of her reverie at the elf's questioning tone and she realized with slight embarrassment that she must have missed something.

"I apologize, it was not my intention to ignore you, but it seems I was lost in thought." Which of course was the truth. But the smirk that slyly crawled its way onto the curve of his lips made her rethink her words for any underlying meaning.

"Thinking about me again?" She jolted. As if shocked, the current snapping her body taut as her neck and face flamed.

Insufferable, pompous–

Her snarling inner monologue was sharply cut off as he laughed and cupped the defined edges of her jaw in his hands. Heat wound and coiled in her stomach as the rough pads of his fingertips found the soft sensitive skin behind her ears, his thumbs lightly resting on the apples of her cheeks.

Black expanded and Nárhína watched with a curious sort of wonderment as the dark pupil absorbed his very own mix of blue and green. A small sudden movement drew her gaze downward to rest on his mouth. No longer tilted and smirking, it was slightly parted with his uneven breathing. His lower lip was redder than she remembered and she wondered absently if he bit it. Forgetting that she should be annoyed with the elf lord, her hand raised toward the object of her attention with a strange sort of detachment, as if she were not in full control of her own body.

Her fingers curled in together as they slid gently under his chin, one lone finger hovering treacherously close to fulfilling her unconscious curiosity. She had an unexpected irrational thought that her hands were too dry before her thumb brushed the very corner of his wide mouth. The muscles in his chest tensed under her palm and the woman dazedly recognized that her hand did not use to be there, but her focus was on something else entirely.

His mouth was warm, softer than she anticipated but also slightly chapped and she slowly dragged her finger along the boundary of his full lip, hypnotized by the new vibrations under her flattened hand and the hot exhales of air against her thumb. She followed its trail, mesmerized, and as her body grew more confident, her thumb strayed from the outer edge to the even softer, smoother skin closer to his even white teeth. But the heat that had been steadily pooling in her abdomen suddenly blazed when her finger drifted too close to the threshold of his open mouth and Glorfindel's teeth came together with an audible snap, nipping the plump pad of her thumb before trapping it between his lips.

The strangled gasp that slipped past her lips was drowned out by the low moan from the elf in front of her and the fire inside of her raged in response, wanting more.

"Oi! Elrohir! I found him!"

"Glorfindel! Cease your lustful advances on our Aunt!"

"At least for right now, of course. Father was asking after her and we need to leave as well."

Cold water in the form of her two nephews splashed across her, dowsing the flames that had nearly consumed her and she ripped herself away from the elf in front of her.

She peeked around Glorfindel's shoulders but did not see either of the twins. Thankful that they were either hiding or had actually left the corridor after interrupting them, their absence gave her a semblance of privacy – illusionary or not.

What would have happened if they had not appeared when they did? Things were moving too fast and it was even more complicated with the elf lord present because what was left of her conscience seemed to disappear in an opaque cloud of hormones whenever he was close.

A brief flash of something moved over his features with her abrupt distance but it was gone before she could identify it.

"I will trouble you no more; I merely desired to see you for but a brief moment and to wish you a safe journey." He closed the small distance to her again and before she could object, bestowed the briefest of kisses to her brow, reminiscent of the very first she had received from him. She stared up at him with wide eyes as he stepped back, the sunlight choosing that very moment to halo around him.

"I will see you soon."

And Nárhína could only stand there, slack in the golden light and the unspoken moment of lust as she watched his retreating form, wondering if she was slowly going mad.

* * *

"Train?"

"You mean with weapons?" Their voices perfectly matched their facial expressions, an interesting blend of disgust and shock; possibly also offended as she noticed the slight squint at the corners of Sam's eyes and the small jerk of his broad shoulders. As it was, she had a difficult time of her own trying to understand how exactly they were alive and made it to Rivendell in mostly one piece.

"I find myself at a loss young Masters. How is it you think to fend off an orc?" The woman's scrutiny pierced through each of them. "Invite them to tea? Brandish a frying pan, perhaps?" It was not loud by any means but they flinched as if struck by the snap in her voice. If she did not have their attention before, she certainly had it now.

They had been traveling for six days now and each evening was the same. The company would stop at dusk and break camp while the last vestiges of light lingered. Small conversation and light laughter with memories spoken would weave through the firelight as the hobbits ensnared the other members of the Fellowship with their time of home and cajoled the other members into telling some aspects of their own lives. Nárhína would watch, perched upon a branch or rock, or seated in the grass on the edge of their territory, and wonder at the curious magic that flickered so bright in the small creatures. With each passing day, she grew more certain – there was something about them. Gandalf had caught her calculating look one night when she was trying to follow the absurd hand motions and body language of Merry and Pippin as they retold a story from their childhood and the twinkle in the wizard's eye nearly confirmed her suspicions.

But this was not a trip to a neighboring village. Luck had been on their side, no problems had arisen since they set foot on this trek but that undoubtedly was not going to stay that way. Moreover, she found out almost immediately while observing them in Imladris that none of the four halflings had even an inkling of a combat mindset.

That was about to change.

"Each time we break during the day, I will see to your training with the short swords each of you were given and run through various close-combat techniques. I will also teach you the way of the land: flora and fauna. Nomenclature, their purpose and uses, whether or not they are edible, poisonous, and so on. Mammals, reptiles, amphibians, insects, will be strictly need to know so we don't waste time." Her gloved hand shot in the air to cut off what was no doubt an obnoxious question from Pippin. "If the knowledge is not yet known to you, you will soon understand how to start a fire, how to find fresh water, and we will touch on how to survive in the numerous climates of Middle Earth. I will also test your skills in the capacity of scouting, hunting, basic healing, and sabotage. If you are found wanting, I will instruct you in these areas as well.

You are not in the Shire anymore. You won't be going home for a very long time and I will not have your lives, nor ours, jeopardized by the fact that certain parties agreed to have wholly untrained members in a quest where serious injury and death is not only a possibility, but imminent."

The soft sounds of camp filtered over to their secluded group as they stood there, shocked faces pale in the retreating sunlight. She could not stop herself as she focused on a particular hobbit. Out of the many conversations that took place with Elrond and Gandalf, Frodo's near crossover into the shadow world was one that was spoken about in length. His gaze was frozen on hers but instead of the rounded eyes like the others, he looked calm. Determined. Understandable, she thought. He had to stand behind his friends and watch as they were thrown out of the way before he himself was stabbed. Out of the four of them, he was most likely the only one that truly realized how much they were in need of this.

"It will be difficult, but not impossible." Nárhína kneeled then, the shuffling of stones and dry grass breaking seemed overly loud in the tense atmosphere she had created. The end of her braid brushed the soil as she took the time to make eye contact with each of her charges.

They were not close, she and them. The hobbits did not interact with her the way they did Gandalf or Aragorn, or even Gimli, to whom they bonded with over shared experiences of intoxicated escapades.

She also knew that the fault for that detachment lied mostly with her. Nárhína knew she was not as easy-going or approachable as some were used to or expected. In truth, she was closest in temperament to the elf, aloof and silent. Legolas, however, spoke more than she did – cordially to Aragorn and the wizard while saving sly and tactless comments for herself and the dwarf, who would always rise to the occasion and then the two would bicker continuously. The other man, the Gondorian, did not speak at all unless it pertained to the actually journey. Choosing instead to remain quiet and stern of face even in the presence of the halflings. The only exception to this would be herself, who received narrowed glares and heated stares at every stop and turn. Nárhína was sure the man looked down upon her due to her supposed biological standing as a female, but the elf had no such facetious teachings to fall upon to explain his horrendous attitude. She knew plenty of elven women who took up blade or bow and served. No, she had the impression that the Prince's ire came from what he suspected her race to be. Yet she paid them no mind and Morinehtar's voice would rumble through her thoughts each time the man's violent gaze landed on her or when the not-so-subtle whispers of the elf reached her ears.

A lion does not lose sleep over the opinion of sheep.

"I would also use this time to talk with the others, though not about trivial matters. There may be things they can teach you that I am not familiar with." She was still crouched down in front of them and their features had finally returned to normal as they focused their thoughts. "You do not know me," she was softer now and they could tell, the four of them unconsciously relaxing as their body language reflected hers. "I am harsh, unyielding in most ways, and I do not convey emotion well, but do not doubt for a single moment that I do not care for your wellbeing."

Silence greeted her words. Nárhína merely observed as the hobbits looked amongst one another with sideways glances and semi-coordinated facial tics before resting their gazes back onto her. Pippin was the first to break, fidgeting, easing from foot to foot with a strange bob to his shoulders. It almost looked as if...

A loud sigh left her and she did not even attempt to stop it. "Master Pippin. You either have a question or you are in a hurry to relieve yourself, which is it?" A rosy blush dusted across his cheeks and he ducked his head as Merry grumbled to himself next to him.

"Well–I–both, actually. But I can wait!" Not entirely sure if it was wise to trust those words, Nárhína gave another sigh, this one thankfully remained internal. "I apologize for taking up so much of your time. You may go get yourself ready, your items staged for the night, and I will answer any questions you may have once you are finished. We will begin training tomorrow." If she was any other person, she might have been insulted at the speed they used to leave, all of them clamoring and shouting over the other as they sped toward the fire and the rest of the company. She turned to follow them, albeit at a more sedate pace, and watched as all four veered off into the direction of the small patch of trees that resided near their camp.

A/N: Okay... some things in here. Some of them I planned, others sort of came out of nowhere and just happened. But hey, longer chapter!