The blond hair was quite hard to hide in this little village.

In the dimly lit bar, I tugged my hood tighter over my head, trying to avoid catching anyone's eye. I was never self conscious, no this wasn't that; it's just the vibrant hair of the Sindar bloodline was generally something that drew attention, like an unwanted red flag bestowed on me upon birth. Challenge, it drew also.

It had been quite some time since I had been in a bar run by Men. Or any bar at all. I certainly didn't miss the smell. Subtly as I could, I swatted away the stink of pipeweed wafting all around the place. How mortals could condone such a practice I still couldn't understand. They were just shortening their already quite short lives. Already, I was beginning to miss the fresh air of the woods back home. The gentle breeze, the dark, festering, but beautiful trees...

I grunted slightly and took another swig of the rank-tasting ale, then shoved my mug aside. What was the use in missing what had already past? I wasn't going back. That was that.

I had come as far north as Arnor, the ancient stronghold of the Dunedain, which was now reduced to a handful of small villages of stout, burly looking men who could barely see out of the sides of their eyes. Up until now, I had slain around about...three orcs, and they were all still in the woods, far away from any civilisation. In this town, there was only one blacksmith; who mainly specialised in axes for wood-chopping or the occasional Dwarf who would drop in every now and then. No weaponry, no swords, not even guards stationed around the perimeter at nightfall. Maybe Orcs had run out of taste for tiny villages in the middle of virtually nowhere.

"Strider, eh?" My ears perked at the name.

I moved a stool closer to a group of men who looked neither old nor young, all clad in simple black hunting uniforms. They were soaked, and well-worn swords glinted at their waists. One of them held a longbow. "Hmph," one of them grunted. "Last I 'eard of 'im, he was spotted stalkin' round the borders of Bree. Far from anywhere near 'ere."

I slumped a little in confusion. Bree? That was far from where I was, near the Shire, where the Little Folk dwelt. What was he doing there, so far from the North?

"Aye, some say he's in kahoots with that Gandalf fellow. You know, that wizard bloke with the big pointy hat," another one of the rangers said.

"Bollocks, I say. Another one of 'em rumours. What would the Grey Pilgrim want with ol' Strider?"

More questions began streaming into my mind as the rangers continued speaking. Once I had the information I needed, I dumped a few silver coins on the bench and left, ignoring the baffled bar keep offering back the change. Better he kept it. He looked like he needed it more than me, anyway.

Keeping my head low and my movements silent, I walked briskly through the winding streets of the town, heading towards the woods where I had kept my horse. Night had fallen; and the sky had turned a dusty shade between blue and pink. Women and laughing children were making their way back to their houses, trying to grasp the last minutes of the day. Even though there was absolutely no reason to anticipate conflict here, instinct had me switching all of my senses to high-alert.

Not bothering to conceal my movements any longer, I cut my way through the foliage to the tree where I had tied Galroch, my horse. But when I made it to the tree, I was greeted with solitude.

I looked around. I had no doubt in my mind that this was the tree where I had left him. I let out a long, sharp whistle. Somewhere, so far away that even I barely heard it, I heard a neigh in response. 

Casually, I reached for my bow.

The Orcs were dead before they knew what hit them.

The first one pounced out of the nearest bush brandishing a mace dripping with what I assumed to be poison, and I brought it down with an arrow to the throat, being mindful to avoid the sizzling splashes of venom from his weapon. The next one came out from behind a tree with a growl, and it struck at me with its sword. I dodged the blow with ease and slammed the Orc's head into a tree, then stapled it stuck with an arrow through its skull. 

I stood, silent as a mouse as the last Orc prowled around me, surveying all the possible ways to kill me. Quick as a flash, I bent down, avoiding the arrow that whizzed over my head, picked up my own discarded arrow and shot him down without a moment's hesitation.

Shaking my head, I looked around. There didn't seem to be any more of them. I retrieved my arrows, cleaned them, then headed out into the woods as if nothing had happened. Those Orcs, after all, were mild compared to the monstrosities I had faced at Ravenhill. 

Some time after the skirmish and the night had grown dark and quiet, I focused my mind on the information I had gathered from the bar. What was Strider doing in Bree? Wasn't he a Northerner? And since when had he made the acquaintance of Mithrandir? Thranduil failed to mention that little detail.

I stopped, and sighed, looking up at a tall elm tree that loomed above me. If I was to head into Bree, it would be best to arrive on foot, rather than on a steed. Drawing little or no attention was key. The horse, mixed with the hair and the bow on my back would make for a rather loud welcome. Galroch would find his way home. The corner of my mouth twitched in a slight smile. 

I stroked the worn trunk of the tree. It would roughly take about two weeks to reach Bree from where I was, if I took the route of the forest instead of the road. That wouldn't be a problem - in fact, I preferred it that way. I was a Wood Elf. I knew trees like most people knew the back of their hand. The solitude within them was confining yet comforting, in a way.

Hoisting myself up, I hopped up onto the first branch, then navigated my way through the twigs and leaves until I peered through the canopy at last. Above me, the stars exploded across the sky, and a big, full white moon greeted me. I closed my eyes, content. It was just me, the moon, and the stars, and Illuvatar to guide me. If only it could've always been this simple. Though, it was just a touch lonely. 

I had been alone since I left Ravenhill. I had barely said a word to anyone this entire journey. But that was the least of my worries. I shook my head and delved back into the trees, nimbly hopping and leaping through the moonlit branches.

I didn't really know what to do once I found Strider. Thranduil wasn't very specific on instructions. I think he wanted me to find that out for myself; not take orders for once but instead do what I wanted - though, it seemed, I wasn't very good at that. My heart was never a factor in making decisions - it was, and had always been, order, order, order.

None the matter, I continued through the trees, eyes on the stars, moon at my back, silent save for the wind through the leaves and the eyes of the Valar, watching my track as I carried on with my journey to find the mysterious ranger so far from home.

Hey guys!

FIRST AND FOREMOST, THIS IDEA WAS NOT MINE. It was commented by @Shiloh1sg under a chapter of For the love of a Dragon. The idea had been circulating around my mind for quite some time, and I've never written a proper fanfiction without a love interest, so I thought I'd give this a go :D

I literally spent 20 minutes looking for that comment XD

A disclaimer: This is NOT a ship fic. Aragorn and Legolas's relationship is completely platonic (aka not romantic) ;)

It's been a while since I've written a Middle Earth fanfiction, and I'm quite enjoying doing it again :D but the forthcoming weeks will be hectic because I have my exams in a few weeks time, but I'll try squeeze in some updates whenever I can :)

I hope you enjoyed!

residenthobbit49 :) <3