The stone was cold, almost freezing under his bare feet, and at any other time such an annoyance would have been enough for him to declare the death of several (completely expendable) servants, just to make himself feel better and perhaps a little warmer inside. This, however, hardly qualified as 'any other time'. Quite the opposite, for unless he was very much mistaken, he would have to stop time.

Having finally reached his destination, he peered into the depths of the Stone. He sighed. He had not been mistaken; the fool girl had managed once again to get herself into a life-or-death situation, and now he was going to have to save her. Some days, these prophecies were more trouble than anyone could have foretold.

Sniggering at his little joke, he cast the appropriate spell over the Stone, effectively stopping time in Naomi's range of vision. Staring down into the Stone, he nearly burst with rage when he noticed that the fool girl had not even noticed what he had done. "Stupid, silly, useless little girl," he hissed, voice made weak by the effort of the spell. "Open your eyes."

She finally did so and he laughed at the expression of sheer wonder on her face. It should always be this easy.

Or not. Hard to believe how stupid she was sometimes. "Stop gawking," he whispered, "and get yourself out of the way."

It was a relief to know that he hadn't completely lost his power, as the mere sound of his voice seemed to be enough to spur her into immediate action. He released the spell, waiting just a few moments to see that the mindless brutes that were accompanying her would protect her.

But try as he might, thoughts of Naomi simply would not leave his mind. Something about her was not quite right, but he simply could not pin the discrepancy down. She certainly looked the part; Janthea would have been proud. She showed no signs of suspicion regarding his identity. Why, then, could he not rid himself of the feeling that something had departed from the natural order?

Deciding that the answer would come to him later, when he was least expecting it, he began to make his way to the library. Skimming the titles, he finally came across one that he hadn't read in the past millennium. A rather sadistic tome, if he recalled it correctly; The Care, Keeping, and Downright Mindless Torture of Elves

And it hit him. That was what was out of the natural order. That was what had been bothering him. The girl's sense of kinship, almost, with the Elf.

He felt his palms sweating against his will and gave himself of a mental shake. As he himself had said, that went against the natural order. Yet it had happened before…had happened, in fact, with one of the very men who was accompanying her, Aragorn. He was in love with the Rivendell harlot, was he not? And she had foolishly promised to become human in order to live out her life with him.

But nothing was going to come of that. No, it was not going to happen because for an Elf, the purest of Middle Earth creatures, to be in love with a Man, the foulest, was nigh impossible.

Nigh. Damn it to all the gods, nigh. What, exactly, was he going to do if the girl began to fall in love with the Elf? Or, worse, he with her? After all, the girl had a weak nature, one that he could easily overpower. A mental nudge there, a psychological pruning there, and all traces of affection for the Elf would be banished from her mind. The Elf, on the other hand, had a more or less impenetrable spirit.

Once again, he gave himself a mental shake. He was not even sure if there was anything between the two of them, and already he was panicking. Nonetheless, it could hardly hurt to be certain.

Retracing his steps, he made his way back to the Seeing Stone. Muttering the spell under his breath, he watched as every moment of Naomi's journey thus far played out before his eyes. Yes, she taunted the Elf while barely even talking to the others, but that could be for a multitude of reasons. Gimli was perhaps too amiable; Aragorn too thick-skinned. Yes, that might very well be it.

And now to examine the Elf. There was something…off about him. He was young for his race, not even 3000 years old, but even an Elf that young should be more or less immune to the teasing of a human, especially one who was not a friend and was particularly young. Yet her comments, biting as they may be, had far too great an effect on him.

Shaking his head, he walked again to the library. Nothing would happen between Naomi and Legolas. It was impossible (all traces of the word nigh had long since left his musings) and an abomination against nature. Just because it had happened once before did not mean it was going to happen again. No. Absolutely not. He had nothing to worry about.

xxx

In a few moments, Naomi thought doggedly, my skin will come ripping off of my bones. Daring to look into the wind, at Legolas and Aragorn in front of her, she added to herself, I can only hope that the wind will reverse and throw my skin and bones back at them. The Elf turned back for a moment, looked as if he was going to say something, but changed his mind and pressed on. Grimly, Naomi amended her thoughts. Very well. Let my skin just hit that cursed Elf.

They had been walking for several hours now, ever since the wolves had attacked. No one had felt comfortable sleeping now that this new threat had presented itself, so they had trekked on through the night. Gray slivers of light were only now beginning to peek up from the edge of Fangorn Forest, barely visible on the horizon.

Again peering forward, Naomi noticed that Legolas was gesticulating furiously to Aragorn, who was shaking his head. Unable to bear the pressure against her eyelids any longer, she brought her chin back down to her chest and began to ponder.

That they were arguing was in and of itself call for speculation. Except for the occasional spat between Naomi and Legolas, the quartet had been remarkably amicable. Indeed, Legolas and Aragorn's friendship had seemed by far the most stable. If her life had depended on it, Naomi could not come up with reason that the two would be arguing. Women were out of the question. Boundaries of race and age would be far too big for them to be interested in the same member of the fairer sex. Naomi herself? Yes, she supposed that was a possibility. After all, Legolas had been evincing doubts as to her true nature before being interrupted by the overlarge wolves.

Yet for some reason, Naomi could not convince herself that that was the reason. As much as she might mock the Elf, she was fairly certain that he would possess an ironclad sense of justice. He had been confronting her personally; she did not think that his moral standards would now allow him to confer with Aragorn before once again giving her a chance to defend herself.

Having exhausted her mental resources, Naomi decided to ask Gimli his opinion. True, he had no great perspicacity, but he was a male. Perhaps the trait alone would give him greater insight.

Naomi waited only a few moments before she heard the snuffles and grunts that surely announced the advent of the Dwarf. Or several badgers, but given the terrain it was most likely the Dwarf.

He came up beside her and clapped her on the shoulder in what was clearly meant to be an encouraging gesture. Feeling that a carthorse had just run into her, Naomi gestured towards Legolas and Aragorn who were still fighting animatedly. Shouting over the wind, she asked "What do you think they are fighting about?"

Gimli laughed and beckoned for her to come closer. Naomi obliged until her ear was an inch away from his mouth. Hot, beery breath washed over her face and she made a conscious effort not to gag.

"Most likely it's about Arwen Evenstar, daughter of Elrond!" he shouted. "The lady of Rivendell! Aragorn's in love with her!"

Nodding, Naomi straightened herself and motioned for Gimli to continue. He did so and Naomi was left alone with her thoughts.

An Elf and a Man? No wonder Legolas was fighting with Aragorn; such a relationship went against everything the two races stood for. Elves were mysterious, wise, powerful and beautiful. Men were impulsive, irrational, unable to handle power and ugly. All the old stories said so. Not to mention, of course, the most obvious fact: Arwen would long outlive Aragorn. It was a doomed relationship from the start.

While she had been trapped in her thoughts, the blustery weather had died down. Throwing caution to the now nonexistent winds, Naomi raced to catch up to the Man and Elf. Attempting to look innocent, she asked, "What were you arguing about?"

Aragorn grunted and looked to Legolas. The Elf shrugged and the Man responded, "Who said we were arguing?"

It was the wrong answer, and even Legolas knew it if the way he raised his eyebrows at the sky was any indication. Turning her gaze back towards Aragorn, Naomi was about to ask him precisely how stupid the man thought she was, before Legolas put a hand on her shoulder. Aragorn walked on, clearly oblivious.

Pulling her against his chest, he bent to whisper in her ear. His breath was warm on her neck and Naomi only had time to note No beer breath here, before the Elf hissed, "If you insist on being so nosy again, I will make you regret it. Aragorn's troubles are none of your affair, and you would do well to remember that."

Naomi nodded tensely and he released her before running to his friend. It took Naomi a few moments before she realized that the hairs on the back of her neck were still erect.

xxx

I really, really apologize for the lack of updates. Life has been an unavoidable mess recently. However, in order to get this chapter up in a semi-timely fashion, I wasn't able to proofread it; I apologize wholeheartedly for any mistakes and will do my best to correct them later.