"No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away."

― Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

11. With Half an Ear

Staring in utter shock at the spot where Gandalf had disappeared, nobody could move. Time had stopped, or so it felt. This could not happen. He was their leader, such a powerful wizard! How could he have fallen? It was impossible.

Not until the bridge began to crumble, did Aragorn react and begin to hustle the others along. "I will lead you now," he cried, his voice distorted. "Follow me."

A few orcs were guarding the exit, but Aragorn cut one down so fiercely that the rest of them shrieked in terror and scuttled off. The fury radiating from the man made Kat ill at ease too, and she cowered, pressing herself against Legolas' neck, involuntarily digging her claws deeper into his shoulder.

He did not seem to mind; he had spotted the clear, blue sky and sunshine outside and increased his step, running lightly and speedily through the gate and out on the hillside. Still running, he drew several deep breaths of fresh air. 

They descended a set of tall stairs, roughly hewn out of the mountain, and continued until they were out of bowshot range and could risk a pause to catch their breaths.

All of them were trembling with adrenalin and surplus energy, and it took a long while until Kat had calmed down enough to comprehend what had just happened, and realize they had actually made it. That they were safe.

Behind them the drum beats faded and soon stopped entirely. It was daylight and bright sunshine; the orcs dared not come out.

When the most acute fear and shock had subsided, grief came in its wake. Gandalf was gone. Their leader was dead. Spreading out, sitting and lying on the ground, most of them wept; the hobbits openly, Aragorn with his arm covering his face.

Legolas stretched out on his back and gazed up at the blue sky, where fluffy clouds unconcernedly sailed past. His eyes were dry and he looked more confused than sad.

Kat sat beside his head and noticed with some embarrassment his tunic was torn and frayed. I hope I didn't claw your shoulder too badly.

Instead of replying, he murmured: "I never thought he would die."

Kat's chest constricted. He sounded so forlorn, and for someone that ancient, right now he looked very young.

I'm sorry for your loss. She placed her paw on his cheek, wishing it was a hand and that she could hug him.

"Thank you." He reached out to stroke her, but then his eyes narrowed. What happened to your ear?

At his mention, the burning pain from before returned. In all the excitement she had forgotten about it again.

I was hit by an arrow. It's probably just a scratch.

A scratch? He sat up, gently turning her head so he could see better. Kat, your ear is gone.

Gone? She tried to feel it with her paw, and the pain intensified. Ah, well. Good thing I had two then. One to spare, as it were.

The wound needs seeing to. He sounded concerned.

Not now. Aragorn said we couldn't stay here for long. Don't worry, I'll be fine.

Legolas did not press the matter, but a small frown remained on his forehead when he laid back down.

Kat was not acting brave, she truly did not care. So what if she had lost an ear? This was not her real body anyway.

She let the afternoon sun warm her face, trying to forget the dull throbbing of her wound. It was such a brilliant day out here, in sharp contrast with the many horrors they had left behind. It should have been raining, she figured – a much more fitting mourning weather. Though, she could not honestly say she mourned Gandalf; not after knowing him for such a short time. Instead, the wizard's demise worried her. What if it was he she had been sent to save, and now she had failed them all?

But he had never climbed any vessels, as far as she knew... And if he had, he would have remembered it and known he was the one, right? He would have told her.

It struck Kat that even if it was Gandalf, she could have done nothing to prevent his death in this form. Not for the first time, she wondered what the heck Mr Pretty Voice had been thinking when he decided a cat's body was suitable for this quest. Why had he not made her a badass, immortal fighter-wizard? It was almost as if he wanted her to fail.

Sighing, she pushed down her annoyance and worry. She would simply have to keep tagging along and hope for the best, that was all she could do. Fretting over things beyond her control was a waste of energy.

/\_,,_.,
( u _ u )

Before they left, Gimli wanted to visit a beautiful lake nearby, the famous Mirrormere. In Kat's opinion this was the worst time to go sightseeing, but the dwarf was eager and nobody else seemed to mind.

It was not far from the gate and indeed astonishingly beautiful, she had to give him that. Long and narrow it lay beneath them, reflecting the sky and the snow capped tips of the mountains they had just passed through. It was the kind of photogenic lake they put on postcards, travel guides and Windows backgrounds.

The water was exceptionally clear and when Kat bent down to lap some, she could see her reflection like in a mirror. The name of the lake was well chosen.

She had not studied her cat body many times, and took a good look now. Her left ear really was gone – torn off halfway down, leaving a jagged stump – but apart from that she appeared to be in a fairly good condition, considering her recent ordeals. There was a healthy shine in her short, tabby fur, and though she was slimmer than most house cats, she did not look starving despite the meagre rations she ate. Her yellow eyes with their slit pupils were a bit disturbing, and she figured those were her least nice feature in this shape.

Aragorn was anxious to get as much distance between themselves and Moria before nightfall, and soon called for them to get going. He took the lead, walking downhill in his ground-covering gait, and Kat and the hobbits had some trouble to keep up.

"With Strider leading us, we shall have to always run," panted Sam, who was portly built. Strider was the hobbits' nickname for the tall man.

"I wish Gandalf was back." Pippin's lip trembled. It seemed the wizard's harsh treatment of the young hobbit had not made him like him less.

"We all do. But Strider is a good man. I trust him," said Frodo hoarsely. His eyes were puffy and red from crying. He was probably the one most affected by Gandalf's death, having known the wizard for many years before the quest.

Then they silenced, focusing on half-running down the uneven ground and struggling not to fall behind. With the hurry and serious threat of pursuing orcs they had to save the mourning for later.

After a while they came to the Silverlode, a small brook with icy cold water from the mountains, which they would follow down to the elvish realm of Lothlórien.

Lothlórien is a very famous forest among my people, thought Legolas excitedly. I look forward to going there. The trees are unlike any other; they have silver bark and golden crowns, and keep their leaves all through the winter.

He went on at length about those trees, and the flowers, and how beautiful everything was said to be, and how unfortunate they could not have come there in the spring.

Kat smiled inwardly. It was rather endearing with how much the elf loved trees, and though she did not share his obsession with them, she enjoyed listening to him. It was good to have him back as his normal, cheerful self. His bleak mood in the darkness of Moria had been disheartening.

/\_,,_.,
( *ᆽ* )

All afternoon they trudged on. The tempo was still high, and the exertion began to take its toll on Kat. She was hungry and tired, and her ear smarted more than she wanted to admit after her offhand dismissal of it before. Not that there was anybody to complain to; Legolas was walking up front with Aragorn now, and by the sound of it talking about trees with him as well.

Gradually, Kat and the hobbits were lagging behind, until they could not see the others anymore. Kat did not worry; she knew she could smell her way to them, but the hobbits were a bit uneasy.

"I hope we shan't get lost," said Pippin in a small voice.

"No worries. I still hear them, and besides, we can just follow the brook," said Merry, but he did not sound as calm as he probably intended to.

"My head hurts," mumbled Sam weakly. His face was very pale, and Kat remembered she had seen blood in his hair back in Moria. It had dried now and was less visible, which could explain why nobody else had noticed.

"What happened to you?" asked Frodo concernedly. He was holding his side while walking, so apparently the spear he miraculously survived had not left him entirely unscathed either.

"An orc sword."

"It doesn't look deep, but perhaps I should call Aragorn. Though, I hesitate to make noise in case there are enemies around..."

He did not have to decide, because now the others had noticed the lack of hobbit in their company and traced their steps back to them.

"I am sorry, Frodo," said Aragorn remorsefully. "In all the need for hurry I forgot you were hurt."

"I'm fine. It's worse with Sam."

"I know a place ahead where we can rest and tend to you. Come, Boromir, let us carry them."

They continued with Frodo and Sam piggybacking the men, and some way further they stopped in a cosy glade. Dense fir trees surrounded it like a green wall and the ground was covered in fluffy moss and bilberry shrubs.

Now the others finally noticed Kat's lost ear, and crowded around her to offer their sympathy and condolences. Again she waved it off as unimportant, though she secretly did not mind being fussed over. It made her feel a bit like a war veteran with a scar. Just a shame she had acquired it while cowardly hiding in a chest.

Luckily neither her injury nor Sam's seemed to be poisoned – apparently that was always a risk with orc weapons. Aragorn used Athelas for cleaning their wounds, a fragrant herb which he mixed with water and said would promote healing. Kat had prefered a painkiller and perhaps some antibiotics, but of course there were no modern treatments available here. At least the Athelas paste smelled nice, and Aragorn had a surprisingly soft touch for a warrior.

"There, all set." He secured a linen bandage with a neat knot. Then he stroked her cheek softly. "I have done what I could, but it will not give you your ear back. I am truly sorry." His voice sounded earnest and kind.

Kat dropped her gaze in embarrassment. To have Aragorn give her his full attention made her stomach flip and her legs feel like boiled spaghetti. He had such a larger than life personality.

Beside her, Legolas smirked knowingly. Really, Kat, are you going to fawn over all the males in the Fellowship?

I'm not fawning! And if you say that out loud I shall claw your face.

But then you would ruin my good looks. Would that not be a shame? He chuckled.

"What is funny?" asked Aragorn.

"Well..."

I warn you!

"... just my elvish humor. You would probably not understand."

"I was raised by elves, you know. You can tell me."

"Maybe another time. Does not Frodo need tending to?"

"I'm fine," said Frodo.

"Let me check, just in case," insisted Aragorn.

When the hobbit had undressed, a silvery chainmail shirt was revealed. So this was how he had survived the orc spear! It reminded Kat of that old western movie, where Clint Eastwood cleverly had made a makeshift bulletproof vest with a piece of iron and hid it under his poncho, tricking the bad guy and killing everybody. It was not cheating because he was the hero.

"A mithril coat. Mithril!" gasped Gimli. "Was this the one Gandalf spoke of? If so, he undervalued it."

"Is it worth more than the Shire?" whispered Pippin to Merry, profoundly impressed. "That's a fine gift Bilbo gave him!"

"Bless the old hobbit," said Merry.

Underneath the mithril shirt, Frodo's chest was a bit bruised, and Aragorn washed his ribs with Athelas water. Kat watched with curiosity, having never seen a topless hobbit before. Apart from his diminutive size, he looked a lot like a human man. Slim, but with fairly impressive abs.

Then she noticed Legolas' amused expression and quickly began to lick her fur instead. Darn perceptive elf!

Don't you dare imply I'm ogling hobbits! I was just curious about the wound and the mithril and that.

I did not say anything.

Wipe that smug smile off your face!

They shared a quick evening meal and then it was time to continue. The sun had already set; the orcs would be pouring out of Moria by now and following their trail. They could not risk a night in the open.

As usual the pace was fast, with Aragorn apparently unable to restrain his long legs, but the food had invigorated them and everybody seemed a lot more cheerful.

"I hope he knows where he's going in this darkness," remarked Merry.

"Maybe he doesn't, and just plays by the ear." Pippin gave Kat a mischievous grin. Then his eyes widened and he quickly curbed his smile. "That was too soon. Sorry!"

Legolas, tell him he can make as many jokes as he likes. I'm all ears.

"I shouldn't." Pippin's small face looked serious. "We just lost Gandalf, it's disrespectful to fool around like nothing happened."

Kat was ashamed. The others were still mourning, and bad puns from their cat companion was probably the least thing they needed.

"I disagree," said Legolas then. "It is not wrong to keep your spirits up, even after such dire events as this. Gandalf always loved a good joke. He would not have wanted you to hold back for his sake."

"Are you sure? He often seemed to find me a nuisance." Pippin looked down.

"That's because you are a nuisance, Pip," said Merry, giving his shoulder a friendly shove.

"Yes, he's wet behind the ears," added Frodo.

"See? Even Frodo is joking. Chin up, cousin."

"Alright then. I'll try."

Tell him that's music to my ear.

Kat was rewarded with a relieved laughter, and afterwards, somehow the darkness felt a bit brighter and their tired feet a little less heavy.

/\_ ,._ ,.
( ಠ‿ಠ )

When they reached the outskirts of Lothlórien, Legolas was almost bouncing with eagerness and walked even faster than Aragorn the last way. If he had seemed cheerful while just talking about trees, it was nothing in comparison to him actually being among them. He went from trunk to trunk, stroking the silver bark and admiringly gazing up at the golden foliage.

Boromir hesitated just outside the edge of the forest. "Is there no other way?" He looked unusually ill at ease.

Aragorn asked where he would rather go, and Boromir said he prefered a normal road if there was one. So far, they had taken strange routes – against his will and judgement – and when they decided to go through Moria, Gandalf had paid for it with his life. Back home in Gondor, the Golden Wood was known as a dangerous forest and those who went into it never returned. Should they really risk this path?

"There is no other way," said Aragorn. "Unless you would go back into Moria?"

Boromir had to relent then, but he did not look happy when he followed Aragorn inside.

Kat walked last in line, and looked around her with interest. She instinctively liked the place. Somehow it felt warm and safe, and the smell of fresh earth was comforting. Perhaps Boromir's countrymen were mistaken? Back in the day, people were superstitious and feared all sorts of things for no reason, such as broken mirrors, black cats, vaccines... She could not take his doubts seriously this time.

Her sharp cat senses made her able to see the surroundings quite well, and she heard many curious sounds from the nocturnal inhabitants of the woods; mice, voles, rabbits, a shy fox. How she knew what animal caused which sound she could not say – she just knew. Her cat persona's doing, probably.

Suddenly she heard something else, which nearly froze her blood; a patter of feet. This sound she did not know what caused, but she had heard it before – in Moria. Turning around, she anxiously peered into the darkness and felt the fur rise all over her body when she saw a pair of eyes some way behind them, glittering faintly in the weak moonlight. She could not hold back a frightened hiss, and the eyes instantly disappeared.

Kat hurried to catch up with Legolas. I think we are followed. She quickly described what she had heard and seen, and he conveyed her message to the others.

"I have heard footsteps too," said Frodo. "Both in Moria and here, before we came into the forest."

"Is Sting warning for orcs?" asked Aragorn.

Frodo drew his sword and checked, but it looked normal, without the blue shine indicating orcs were nearby.

"It may have been an orc you heard in the Mines, but here it is probably just a harmless animal," said Aragorn. "Perhaps a lone wolf, hoping for leftovers from our meals, or something of that ilk."

Kat pondered his words. Could she have imagined that the sound was the same as in Moria? She did not think she had, but even so, there was not much else they could do than continue onwards.

The brook they had been following gradually grew wider as they came to lower ground, and after a while it joined another stream, becoming slower and deeper.

"This is Nimrodel," said Legolas. "It is said to have healing water for the weary." He pulled off his hose and waded out barefoot. The path continued on the other side and there was no bridge, so the others followed his example, except for Kat who climbed up on Boromir's shoulder to get a free ride over.

The water was apparently very cold, but Legolas stayed a while anyway, washing his hands and face thoroughly. I wish there was time to bathe properly.

Kat did not reply, because the mental images of him bathing made her mouth dry and she could not think of anything to say. Just seeing his bare legs now was enough to make her heart beat faster.

Enjoying the view?

Busted.

I do, she admitted. He knew she liked him; trying to deny it was pointless. Then she added, rather nastily: But I could have watched you pee countless of times, so what difference does a pair of legs make?

His face took on a horrified expression; apparently that had not occurred to him. Though the company technically knew Kat was a woman, they did not at all act as if she were. It was probably easy to forget when she looked like this.

She took pity on him. Relax. Of course I didn't watch.

Feeling rather subdued, she turned her back on him and sat down with the others. She hated this form. She knew she was making a fool of herself with her woman's taste in a cat's body, and it was humiliating that Legolas saw through it so easily. She doubted he could have done that, if she were herself.

Then, they would be on a more equal footing, and she could have flirted a little to find out if he liked her too. She did not delude herself that he would be instantly attracted to her, but she might have grown on him. If not – and if he teased her about it – she could have simply denied feeling anything for him and feigned interest in someone else, and saved her dignity.

They shared another cold meal, and Legolas left the water at last. Kat averted her gaze when he put his hose back on. Darn elf!

He seemed for once unaware of her embarrassment, and began to tell the Fellowship all he knew of Lothlórien; old tales from his homeland about elves of the past who had lived here. Kat understood only half of it but did not bother to ask. She closed her eyes and just listened, almost lulled into sleep by the calmness of this place and the softness of his melodious voice.

Then suddenly he began to sing, and her eyes popped wide open. Words could not describe the beauty of his singing voice. It was stunning. If they had had Grammy awards in this world, he would have won every single one of them.

Darn the elf again! Not only was he handsome, pleasant company and a great cuddler – now he did this to her as well. How would she ever manage to get over him?

The song was melancholy, and told the tale of Nimrodel, an elf maid whom the river was named after, and her lover Amroth. It ended unhappily of course.

The elf maid had lived in a tree house, which apparently was the habit of the Lórien folk. This caught Gimli's interest. "That would be safer than sitting on the ground," he mused.

Aragorn agreed. Perhaps they could spend the night in the branches too? Well hidden from orcs.

Kat's stomach sank when she saw how tall the trees were. She knew she would be terrified up in one of those, and the hobbits were not too keen either. They were not birds who could sleep on a perch, as Pippin put it.

Legolas – of course – eagerly volunteered to climb one and check if it was suitable. He nimbly jumped up and caught a low branch.

A stern voice came from the dense foliage: "Daro."

Legolas went rigid and drowsed back down, anxiously pressing himself against the trunk. What was that?

A/N:

It appears the tree was already occupied. Who might it be? :)

Translation: Daro = Stop!

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