Chapter Three: Reformation in the Fellowship

* “So then the orcs were taking them to Saruman’s stronghold?” The dwarf Gimli sighed. Just as he had feared.

“That is what their tracks read in my eyes. Aragon?” Legolas looked to his human companion for a second opinion.

“I believe so as well.”

“Well then. It was only a matter of time before we had to go to face him. He is growing more powerful as we speak.” Gimli muttered.

“Yes. Better to face him now before he gains any more strength.” Legolas nodded in agreement with his good friend.

“Then we have a long journey ahead of us if we wish to get there quickly.” Aragon smiled grimly. At least they knew where their hobbit friends were. And Legolas was right. Better to face Saruman now then wait for him to grow more powerful.

“In that case, I had better save all the power I can for the fight.” A familiar, airy voice floated by them. The trio turned. No noise. No response. Dead. Silence.

“… Gandalf?” Aragon finally spoke, regaining his composure.

“I should hope I’m no other. That would be very disconcerting indeed.” He smiled sadly.

“But Master Wizard, you were killed in Moria…” Gimli boasted.

“No. But that is a tale for another time. Come gentlemen. Aragon was correct when he spoke that we have a long journey ahead. We go to rescue Merry and Pippin? What of Frodo and Sam?” Gandalf asked concerned.

“They left on their own. They were safer that way.” Legolas answered, finally regaining his voice. It was incredible. Here was a friend he had only a moment ago thought of as dead, killed by demon of the dark. But he was living, breathing, and back with them. It was an awe-striking revelation in his mind. Such an unusual happening could only be described as such in his own mind. Suddenly, a new hope entered his soul, like a breath of fresh air after coming up from being underwater for a long time. They had been drowning, barely floating. But now they were swimming once again, and swimming with more strength than before. They would succeed. He had a feeling. They would.

“Well then. Let us not tarry, but hurry on our way. And I have brought something which should considerably help us.” Gandalf faded for a moment into the forest, then returned, holding the reins of five horses. “I had five, but I see we will not be needing the fifth. Where has Boromir gone?”

“Boromir fought valiantly, yet he was stuck down in a battle just after we left Lothlorien.” Gimli bowed his head out of respect, then stood and brushed the thought aside.

“Bring the last horse anyway. We do not know what will happen. Better to be prepared.” Aragon spoke commandingly. After giving a silent moment to the memory of Boromir, Gandalf nodded.

“Then on we continue, to the citadel of Sarumon to save Merry and Pippin.” Legolas spoke. They mounted their ponies and one by one, formed a line. They would succeed.

>>>)(<<<

“How did you do that? When did you learn to handle a sword so well?” Sam pooped question after question on the mysterious figure cloaked in the midnight blue shroud.

“I learned to handle a sword form a master swordsman, my father.” The figure spoke. “Sit and let me tend to you head wound, short one.” The figure addressed Frodo. With all of the excitement, he had thought his injury would be forgotten. He himself had momentarily forgotten it. But now it burned and stung like nothing he was used to. That was not true. The other wound, the one he had received right before reaching Rivendell, was much worse. Still. This one hurt something fierce.

Sam and Frodo watched as the cloaked figure dropped the quiver of arrows from his back and the pack he had slung over one shoulder. Then he dropped the hood of his cloak and began unfastening the clasp. They gasped.

“You’re a girl!” Sam accused their savior. The woman in front of them smirked slightly.

“So I am. Here now. Pass me that pack short one.” She motioned for Sam to get the pack she had dropped moments before. He passed it to her, still not speaking. Pulling out a few of the medicinal herbs she had thrown in before, she finally picked out a selection. Laying it out, she stopped to think.

“Surely there must be water around somewhere. Short ones, stay here. You,” she addressed Sam, “watch him. And start a hot fire. I’m going to get water. Should an orc comes, well, then, shout out loud.” She shrugged and left them with a flask in hand.

“She’s a girl!” Sam muttered again.

“And she’s as good with a sword as Aragon. I wonder how she is with a bow? Think she can rival Legolas?” Frodo murmured.

“I hope not. What if she’s in league with Sauron?”

“Sam. She just slew a bunch of orcs for us. I don’t think we have to worry too much. Just don’t mention the ring, and we’ll be fine. I hope.” Frodo swallowed hard.

“Do we tell her our real names then?” Sam asked.

“She didn’t seem to recognize us, nor did she look like anyone in the bar. She’s probably not from around here. It’ll be ok to tell her, I think.”

“No orcs?” The two hobbits stopped their conversation when they noticed she had reappeared. They watched as she began to boil the water.

“Now tell me short ones. Where are you destined?”

“Why?” Sam shot back. The woman looked slightly taken back.

“Because. I was paid to take you to your destination, and I have never broken my word. I would like to know where I am to escort you.” She explained.

“We don’t need an escort, thanks.” Frodo answered politely.

“You don’t do you? Then, short ones, perhaps you would like to fight more orcs alone? I care not where you go or why, simply that you get there safely because of me.”

“And just who are you?” Sam suddenly asked. The woman paused. After a very long and silent moment, she spoke.

“Short ones. I am known as Serein.”

“Serein? That’s a nice name.” Frodo said, rather sleepily.

“Short one, you must keep awake. Do not fall asleep yet. It could be dangerous to your head if you do.” She wakened Frodo.

“My name is Frodo, Frodo Baggins.” He said.

“And I am Samwise Gamgee, or Sam.”

“Well then short ones. Care to tell me where we are headed?” The hobbits exchanged a look.

“We are headed over the mountains. After that, we are not sure.” Frodo finally told her.

“Very well. I myself am headed that way. I will see you to the other side of the mountain range, then go about my own business. Does this seem fair to you?” She compromised. She would break from them, then go straight the citadel of the White Wizard gone corrupt. The wizard who had her city’s Gemstone…

“That sounds good.” Sam answered. With that, they settled down as they waited for Serein to treat Frodo’s wound.

>>>)(<<<

Only five days into their traveling routine and already they had slipped into a routine. The morning usually began with an early arousal by Serein. After Sam had cooked them a decent breakfast and they had eaten and packed, they set out once more.

Serein, who was not used to eating a meal at mid-day was slightly edgy the first time they stopped for a mid-day snack. But soon after that she got used to it, though she could not bring herself to join the hobbits in eating. Sam made such larger breakfasts and suppers than she was used to that she could never fully finish before feeling sluggish and sick.

Around dusk they settled down and after a dinner, the hobbits casually drifted off to sleep. Being an elf, Serein did not need sleep as they did. She kept watch. Everyday it was the same.

But everyday was not the same. The hobbits, Frodo and Sam, amused her more than she had thought possible. They entertained her with tales of their home in a place called the Shire. She heard of Frodo’s Uncle and friend, a mister Bilbo Baggins. Their antics kept her on her toes, of this she was sure. What she was not sure of was why they wished to go over the mountain range, or why the orcs had been so desperate to catch the little boys. But her oath at the beginning of their journey reminded her to hold her tongue over such issues.

As Frodo sat listening to Sam’s re-account of Merry and Pippin’s adventures at Bilbo’s last birthday party, he thought over the last few days. Once he had gotten over the shock of his shrouded figure being a girl, he learned to like her. She was quiet, often allowing either Sam or himself to dominate the conversation. Her beauty surpassed most he had ever come across, even rivaling that of Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien. Her long blond hair flowed in soft waves down to her waist. She never tied it completely up, only left it half up in a very loose tie so it covered her ears and softly framed her oval face. Her eyes were the color of sapphires, and held within them flecks of gold. The most unusual eyes on a human he had ever seen. But that was humans for you, always surprising you.

They were really had become comrades, even friends. And she knew nothing of the ring. It was nice to have that load off of his mind for a while. There were times during the day when he even forgot why he was traveling to Mordor and just walked.

Sam finished his tale and was rewarded with a small tinkling of Serein’s faeryish laughter. He had come to trust her impeccably during their travels. She took good care of them, just as Aragon, Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli had. He missed his friends…

“Stop.” Serein’s light voice commanded an air of respect. The atmosphere grew heavy with silence, then she broke it and spoke once more. “Please, short ones, climb that tree and do not come down for any reason. Is that clear?” She asked.

“Yes.” They replied simultaneously. They scurried up the tree and sat in the highest of the branches. They watched as Serein drew her sword and leaned casually against the tree they were in. Only then they heard it. Orcs. Lots of them. Fifty orcs swarmed out from the trees and engaged Serein in battle.

But Serein had not survived the first orc invasion of Sauron for no reason. She had not lived through the final battle for nothing. Slashing, slicing and dicing, she began to hack her way through the company of orcs with skill and grace the hobbits had yet to witness. But the orcs kept coming. This time there were more than just the ten smaller ones at the bar. There were more, larger ones. Sam and Frodo exchanged looks. They knew Serein would not be able to hold out forever. And what then? If she was slain by the orcs, would they not find the hobbits and just go on, passing them by? Or would they climb the tree to get to them?

They could hear the metal clanging of swords nearby. And the grunt of the orcs as they went into combat with their opponent.

“Who do you suppose the orcs are tormenting now?” Gimli muttered sarcastically.

“A helpless band of travelers, no doubt.” Gandalf snorted.

“Well. We are here to help travelers. Let us stop to rid this forest of more of the slime that pollutes it.” Legolas announced. The others nodded.

“But leave the horses here. We don’t want them slain.” Aragon suggested. They dismounted, tied the horses, then drew their weapons. Legolas took to the trees branches, bow and arrow drawn. Aragon readied his sword, as did Gandalf. Gimli wielded his ax. They charged.

Stepping into the clearing, they began slaying orcs from behind as they made their way to the people in trouble.

“The people look to be near the base of the tree!” Aragon called. They fought their ways inward. The massive blood bath continued. An arrow there, a strike here. Orc blood seeped into the ground, poisoning all plant-life nearby. But when all was said and done, five victors remained on the battlefield: none of which were orcs. As the four warriors who knew each other gathered to assess the damage to each other; one stood tensely by the base of the tree. Except to strike and avoid, she had not moved the entire battle.

“Who are you?” Aragon finally noticed the girl at the tree and addressed her.

“My question exactly.” She replied cryptically. She fingered her sword ever so gently.

“We are a simple band of travelers. We heard the orcs and thought someone was in distress. Are you the only one left my dear?” Gandalf asked.

“Perhaps. But I was the only one to begin with. Thank you for your help. Good day then.” She nodded. Legolas looked up from the cut he had been examining on Gimli’s arm. Her tone had been intriguing to his ears. Melodic and light, yet dark and warning. He drank in the sight before him. The woman was beautiful. Long golden hair, and enchanting deep blue eyes. She had such a pale and thin frame, he wondered how she had managed to slay even one of the giant orcs. But she had killed, more than likely, more than he had. She was covered in the blackened blood of orcs, and her own red blood mixed with dirt and smeared on one of her arms. Still, her overall effect was dazzling.

“You are injured Lady.” Aragon broke the tense silence. “We could help…”

“It is not needed. Leave. Please.” She requested. Her tone sounded reassuring and almost pleading for them not to worry for her. Still it was strong.

“We have introduced ourselves. I find it only fair you do the same.” Gimli spoke.

“You gave me a generalization. You are travelers, as am I. Please.”

“Very well then, if you wish a name Lady. I am Legolas Greenleaf, an elf of Northern Mirkwood.”

“Your name makes lit…”

“Legolas! Aragon! Gimli! And Gandalf!” Frodo and Sam jumped from the tree at once upon hearing the name of their friend elf.

“Short ones. Did I not warn you stay within the tree until I called it was safe?” Serein frowned. But they seemed to know the travelers and trust them…

“Frodo! Sam!” The other four travelers cried. A proper welcoming was in order. And Frodo and Sam finally comprehended that Gandalf had returned.

As the four mysterious travelers spoke with her ‘short ones’, Serein stood back. Nodding her head to herself, she quickly slipped out of view. They knew each other quite well by their welcoming, and would be safe without her for a short time.

Gathering firewood, she piled it and began a fire, a while away from the orc battle site. When the others were ready, they could join her. For now she could boil water to tend to their wounds. Her arm hurt something horrible.

“Hey, where did Serein go?” Frodo asked over the loud noise they had been making with all their welcoming.

“Who?” Gimli asked.

“The girl who we were with, where is she?” Sam asked, echoing Frodo’s thoughts.*