6 Skating

After a few days, the young lady couldn't take it anymore, and found her refuge in books. There, she sometimes met Bilbo. He told her about middle earth stories while they drank tea, and showed her many maps. One day, Estel joined them, in need of some distractions from his duties. Hobbit, girl and ranger settled around a table to recall the songs of old. Frances was totally enthralled by the legends of Númenor, and those of the first age. She asked so many questions that even Estel could not respond. With time, she was starting to fathom how heavy the ranger's destiny weighted over his shoulders, and she was getting to know the man under the cloak of appearances. As for the hobbit, his jovial self hid something much darker, some kind of melancholy which origin she could not pin point. When Bilbo stated something about eating cakes and went away, Frances dared asking to the ranger about it. Estel's eyes darkened.

- "I believe it is the presence of the ring, and its loss at the same time that affects Bilbo" he said, his eyes lost into nothingness.

After all, Frances had seen the ring before Glorfindel came to collect Frodo. It was only fitting that she knew of its origins. This is how Frances heard about the full story, and needless to say that it darkened her mood. The imminent war motivated her, and it was in a brand new state of mind that she came back to her sword fighting lessons.

On afternoons, Arwen had decided to teach her how to ride. The young girl's dislike of horses had probably shown a tad too much, because the mare she was to mount seemed very nervous at first. Little by little though, she became accustomed to being carried around by the white beast. It didn't mean she liked it though, much preferring long strolls to any kind of horse riding. However, when Frances didn't struggle so much with her mare, the promenade with Arwen could be interesting. Standing alongside legendary beings was unreal, and Frances felt that her life had become a daydream as time flew by. A routine started to set up. A friendship developed with all siblings of Elrond, and little by little her fighting and riding skills improved. When she had time though, Frances spent it in the library, or wandering alone in the mountains around Rivendell.

Winter came, and with it some ice and snow. This is how she found out a frozen lake at the top of the mountains, a few hours from the magnificent city of Imladris. With a little help from the twins, the young lady managed to build a pair of ice skates. This is how her free time was spent while winter's clutches finally settled in the valley.

One day, the prince of Greenwood arrived in the city with a delegation. The next day, a company of dwarven pilgrims came to visit Lord Elrond's last homely house, a rarely feat indeed ! Something was building up, but Frances was oblivious to this, caught into her routine. She would, however, not escape the political dinner that the master of Imladris had organized for the evening. Therefore, as snow covered the ground and it wasn't fit for riding, the young lady escaped towards the lake to release the pressure of such formal dinner.

The prince Legolas, accosted by the sons of Elrond, agreed to an afternoon stroll as his legs ached from the long ride from his homely kingdom. This is how he came to see the young human whose prophecy had been chanted over generations, albeit he was oblivious to it.

Gracefully gliding over the ice was an unusual feminine silhouette, her movements fluently creating a strange choregraphy. It was too harsh and energetic to be of elvish influence, and so was she. Turning infinitely around an invisible axis, her long reddish hair was flowing around her as if inhabited by a spirit of its own. Her moves denounced her as a descendant of men, but there was such a mystical dimension escaping from her skidding form that he could not relate to any of the people he had met. His bright eyes narrowing to get a closer look, he eventually managed to get a glimpse at her face. Appearing and disappearing from his sight were her delightful hazel eyes, her expression most of the time hidden by tangled red hair covering her face while she danced. It was difficult to get a precise idea of her height, but she didn't seem very tall. However, her thin body screamed of muscular and equilibrium control. After all those years fighting evil, the prince knew at first sight how to recognize a potential warrior, and she definitely was. This information sunk into his brain as a shock. There was only one place were women could be allowed to fight, and those women were shieldmaidens of the Eorlingas. Her deep red hair denounced her from another place; she could not hail from Rohan.

The dance turned a bit cooler, and she leant forward, lifting one of her legs to perform a graceful arabesque while gliding backwards. As she extended one of her hands in front of her as to offer the world to an invisible public, a bright smile made its way to her stalker's face. She was in no way comparable to elvish beauty and glowing features, but there was something in her face that spoke to his very being. Emotions were poured out of her like water out of the sky, and her ice dancing allowed him and the twins to taste a sparkly shower. There was so much in those eyes that he wondered if he could ever face them. Elves had lived so long that emotions did not crawl on their faces like it did with children of men. Showing feelings was not the way of the Eldar, even if they deeply felt. It just remained private, and the firstborn sometimes feared the powerful grip that emotions had on the second born. He had met many men and women while defending his forest and middle earth, but most of those emotions were linked to fright and misery. Her face, however, expressed love and understanding, bliss and pleasure in such a delightful way that the prince decided to carve her features in his mind forever. He did not know how much of her he would be seeing soon...

The elves were crouched behind a line of rocks a good distance away from the lake; from here she could not see nor hear them. After the twins had shown her this path leading to the frozen lake high in the mountain, she had been going up there every morning to dance, and the twins had accompanied her to discover what she intended to do with those blade boots. Ice dancing was a foreign concept to them as elves usually did not crave for ice and snow, but her first steps on the ice had dumbfounded them. It was a rough dance for elvish eyes, but so captivating for their kind that they could not take eyes of her turning and spinning around for hours. Then Greenleaf had showed up, and it was only fair to show him this little secret of theirs to share with their elvish friend. It had been just an intuition from Elrohir, but somehow it seemed important that this should happen, so the twins had taken the elf lord up the path and there they were, contemplating the surprised struck face of a three thousand years old prince.

Legolas had always been a bit rough himself, dismissing elvish elleths from his path because of the war, and dedicating his life to the protection of his kingdom. Sometimes his father would yell at him for being friends with men, and in particular Aragorn with whom a strong link had existed for years. The twins had known him since he was born, and truth be told they agreed that Greenleaf was a bit different from his pairs. As a matter of fact, he had accompanied them and the rangers of the north countless times, and they had fought together against evil. Those links were unbreakable. Legolas was an elf in every way you could imagine from a man's point of view, but he was so curious about other races that he loved exchanging with the twins.

- "Wasn't it worth a little hiking Greenleaf?", whispered Elladan from behind him, making him jump in surprise, which usually never happened.

- "Who is she?"

- "I fear we cannot tell you", answered Elrohir for his brother, a quite usual deed in Elrond's house

Legolas raised an eyebrow at this answer. Did Elrond emit orders about that visitor of his? Was he not trustworthy of information about the lady?

- "Why couldn't you if I may ask?"

- "Because nobody knows, except maybe for the lady of the woods, and all that we know is that she came with Estel a few days ago and that he met her on Weather top..."

- "That is highly unusual for the Lord of Imladris to receive guests he has no clue about", answered Legolas, intrigued

- "Unusual indeed... Especially since she was fighting off five Nâzgul when Estel joined her!"

Elladan's cry stopped his brother from saying more, but it was too late.

- "THE spectra?" asked Legolas, nearly loosing the sense of discretion such was his surprise.

- "Hush", said Elladan, "We're not even supposed to know that"

Legolas' feature closed off.

- "The ringwraith are out again then, it cannot mean anything good then..."

- "What do you mean?" asked Elladan, one eyebrow lifted in a perfect imitation of his father's features.

- "I bring ill tidings for Lord Elrond and everything will be spoken tomorrow at the council"

The twins faces fell, and the young Prince enjoyed the five seconds of superiority before they started arguing that they wanted to know now. Legolas was well aware that they might bug him to death, he turned around and cut them before they started complaining.

- "I'll relate the whole story while walking back to Imladris, but you must tell me more. I thought that humans were so affected by the Nazgûls that they could not fight them. Is she of elven blood?"

- "No it seems not", answered Elrohir, "and neither is she of Numenorean blood since she mentioned a life expectancy of ninety years at the very best"

- "Ninety year ... so little time"

There was a quick silence during which the three Eldar contemplated when their life would have ended if they had lived ninety years. It seemed so ridiculously small compared to their eternal wisdom, but they had to admit that the passion that lied within men during a few decades allowed deeds that seemed incredible compared to their short lives. There was a great force in the short life of the second born, and yet so much weakness linked to greed and vanity.

- "So did the spectra attack her? How did she manage to answer back?", asked Legolas.

- "They did not. From what she said she was hiking around weather top and hoping to stop for the night when she heard the little company Aragorn was leading being ambushed. She climbed to the top and threw them rocks and daggers before she managed to steal one of their blades."

- "She had obviously no knowledge of what they were but she related she had never touched such icy blade in her life"

- "She fought with a Morgul blade? Against five of them? What of the dread cloak?"

Legolas had heard that no human could resist the despair cast by the Nazgûl, and it was in his eyes because of Aragorn's blood and numerous encounters that the heir could resist their call. Thinking that a young lady could overcome the feeling and stand up to fight was unbelievable.

- "Well you'll meet her sometime this evening anyway, and you can ask her yourself. She told us that the fear and panic was great indeed, and that she nearly sunk down into a helpless state, stated Elrohir."

- "Do not speak for the lady my brother, what she said was intended to us and not to anybody else"

- "You're right Elladan, I hope she is not displeased for I am too talkative, but I am merely counting the tale of her heroics deeds."

- "Oh pray tell some more my dear twins, do not have me waiting!", exclaimed Legolas, always eager for a good story.

- "I am sorry, you will have to ask the lady herself, but she might be busy answering many questions"

- "Elrond's receptions are not a place to discuss about war, and I do not wish to seem rude to the lady. What will she think about Greenwood manners if I so treat her?"

A slight smile appeared on Elrohir's lips, soon followed by his brother's.

- "I wouldn't worry about manners, that particular lady does not acknowledges etiquette as we do and does not fear being asked questions, although she barely answers them in the expected manner. I am even sure that if you come to bother her too much she might punch you until you leave..."

Legolas's brows shot up upon his forehead and he got silent. What kind of lady would react this way to an offense ? A lady that attacked five death spectra with nothing more than a few rocks and daggers perhaps... Even lady Arwen, who was a strong character, did not punch men anymore except for her brothers. Of course, she was far too sneaky to need any violence to come to her means...