The next day we reach the edge of the tundra, and I stare out at the land that stretches beyond.

"This is the farthest I have ever been from home." I whisper, staring at the vast landscape in front of me.

"We will be joining with some companions of mine at the southern border of Forodwaith; it is a hard day's ride, and we will keep going through some of the night."

"Is this Forodwaith?" I ask curiously, pointing over Legolas's shoulder to the land in front of us.

"Yes. A people called the Lossoth used to inhabit this place, but they have all but disappeared; no one has seen them in many years."

"Maybe they just do not wish to be found. After all, you are the first outsider to come to our kingdom in hundreds of years; were we not supposed to be legend as well?"

"True, we might yet stumble upon them."

The whole day passes as a blur of more snow and frigid cold winds, not that it affects me much. As the sky begins to turn dark again, our pace begins to slow slightly.

"Are we almost there?" I question hopefully.

"We are very close." he replies.

Soon after Legolas has answered me I see three figures on horseback silhouetted against the setting sun. Just from their stature I am immediately able to tell all three of them are elves; they sit so regally, as if it were a throne they sat upon and not a saddle. Sometimes I truly envy the grace and fluidity of the elves.

The three elves greet us with silent nods when we approach.

"We have ridden all day and into the night; our horse must rest." Legolas says to the three other elves.

All three dismount their own horses, silently beginning to set up camp. A consuming silence falls over all of us once again. I watch the sun sink lower and lower on the horizon, leaning against Legolas's horse. I absentmindedly stroke its mane, becoming lost in thought.

A feather-light hand taps gently on my shoulder, and I turn around to see one of the three elves. He looks slightly different than Legolas and the other two elves; his hair is long and pale blond, but his eyes are a deeper, almost purple blue.

It takes me a moment to realize I have been staring in curiosity at his unique-looking eyes, and shake my head visibly. "Sorry." I apologize.

"There is no need," he chuckles. "I have grown used to it. I am Raenor by the way, and you are the spirit healer from the North, yes?"

"I am. My name is Arra."

"Well then, since I doubt the others will be introducing themselves; the elf talking to Legolas is Seron. He is very nice once you get to know him, but is also very, um..." he trails off, trying to think of the word to describe what Seron is like. When he comes up with nothing he moves on.

"Meldir is tending to the horses." Raenor points over to the other side of our small camp. When I glance over, I see that Meldir is already looking at me, but he quickly goes back to tethering their three horses to nearby trees. "He is soft spoken," Raenor adds, "I think he likes you."

I raise my eyebrows at this. "I would not be so sure."

"Ah, but your heart already beats for another." Raenor says observantly.

I freeze, and this only confirms what he had said.

"Fallen for the Prince of Mirkwood, have you?" he whispers softly, and chuckles again. "Do not worry little healer of the North; I will not tell him anything."

I narrow my eyes, unsure of whether or not to believe him, but decide that I really have no choice; I only hope he keeps his promise. Wait, what am I even saying? Was that true? Had I really fallen in love with Legolas? No, I could not have; I have known him for barely any time at all.

"And he has already saved your life once." The sarcastic side of my mind points out unnecessarily.

No, I am not in love with Legolas; I cannot be in love with Legolas. Although I repeat this mantra in my head, it does nothing to prevent my mind from drifting to thoughts of him as I fall asleep under the stars again.

***

I'm abruptly removed from my dreams by someone shaking me awake. I rub my eyes blearily, blinking them into focus.

"Time to get moving." I think it was Seron.

I try to think back to what Raenor had told me the night before, but the look on this elf's face confirms it; this was definitely Seron. He was not outright glaring at me, but I could tell he was thinking I was only going to slow them down in the journey; it was practically written on his face. I glance fleetingly at Meldir and see that he is once again staring at me, but he quickly looks away when I catch his gaze.

I stand up and stretch, yawning.

By the time I have gotten myself ready and fully awake everyone else has already mounted their horses, earning me another disapproving look from Seron. I grit my teeth and pretend that I didn't see anything though, unwilling to give him a good reason to openly despise me.

I swing myself up into the saddle behind Legolas, and double check to make sure that I still have both of my quivers of arrows and my bow. Satisfied that I have not managed to lose anything, I wrap my arms around Legolas's waist, and we head off again.

***

After another two day's travel, mountains spring up from the horizon. The snow-capped peaks stretch so high to the heavens that the clouds are forced to split around their peaks. It is as though the clouds are being cut by a knife the way they divide so uniformly around the mountain tops.

Legolas turns his head to me. "That is Ered Mithrin, the Grey Mountains. The edge of Mirkwood is just to the other side."

"Never in my life have I seen something so tall!" I exclaim in awe.

The sight takes my breath away.