The six days of preparation flew by and on October 20^th, Kiah, Legolas, and several other elves stood at Mirkwood’s gate. Up to that morning, the telekinetic had developed a fast friendship with Cadrieldur, who had kept his word and showed her the best ways to defend and attack her enemies. From him, she learned the strengths and weaknesses of the Wargs, Orcs, Trolls, and Spiders; from her, he learned that she was a worthy student. Even when he knew she was physically exhausted from their training—for he’d also kept his other word of teaching her like any other elf—Kiah surprised him with her resilience, even taunting him with “Is that all you got? I’m not even breaking a sweat”…while she was lying on the ground. 

The king’s captain also learned that his feelings for her were growing, and at a rapid rate; it was a secret he kept from everyone, especially Legolas. Kiah had shared with Cadrieldur that she didn’t know how to ride a horse, informing him that her people traveled in “hover vehicles and transports”…concepts which no matter how well she explained, he just didn’t get it. So on a morning when they should’ve been sparring, they went riding; just as with her fight training, the telekinetic picked up the basics pretty quick.  

Legolas had been occupied with preparing for their journey, as well. This wouldn’t be the first time the prince had traveled to Rivendell. Before the last Alliance of men and elves against Sauron, he’d accompanied his two elder brothers to Lord Elrond’s domain. This was, however, the first time he would return since his siblings’ fall on that ancient battlefield. Though this was not a social call, Legolas was glad that he would get the chance to see Arwen, albeit brief. There was also the possibility of seeing Estel, better known as Aragorn. It has been too long, my friend, he had thought at one time. 

While his 2,931 year-old mind was occupied with plans and preparations during the day, it was a different story altogether at night. She occupied his thoughts, which was an annoyance. Legolas had tried to be polite and amiable, engaging Kiah in discussions of her world and time at dinner…whenever she joined them. And even then, she wouldn’t stay for the duration, always retiring either right at or immediately after dessert. She was, without a doubt, the most confusing and complicated human he’d ever known; and it was this mysteriousness about her that had kept him awake at night. 

The morning air was crisp and cool as the stablehands guided the horses to the main gate. A small crowd of well-wishers gathered there, among them Thranduil, Puwen, and Cadrieldur. Gandalf had departed several days before, moving quickly to Rivendell, awaiting the hobbits’ arrival. Kiah readjusted the straps of her scabbard, securing it a little tighter to her body. The blacksmith had followed her sketch of the broadswords perfectly, and even added elvish script along the blade: “Child of Light, Daughter of Strength.”  

Kiah cinched her cloak somewhat loose around her neck; she watched as Cadrieldur double-checked that her knapsack, water bag, and food were secured to her horse, Isal (“Son of the Moon”). After exchanging goodbyes with Thranduil, Puwen moved along her right side and stepped forward. 

“I wish you safety and good fortune, milady, wherever the paths may take you,” the maid offered and bowed. 

Her lady half-grinned and took Puwen by her arms, bringing her up straight. “Enough of that bowing, my friend. A simple hug will do just fine,” she added and did just that, surprising the elf. “I’ll be back, Puwen. Hell, you won’t even have time to miss me, that’s how fast this will go,” Kiah teased. 

Cadrieldur stepped away from Kiah’s horse, letting her know that all was ready. “It is time, Arwenamin.” 

The petite human nodded once and extended her right hand to him. “Thank you for all you’ve shown me, Cadrieldur. I promise none of it will be in vain.” 

The captain took her hand and slid his up her forearm, grasping in his people’s custom. They shook, his eyes staring into hers. Unknowingly, his thumb lightly rubbed over her tunic’s sleeve. “Aa-monle nauva calen ar’ta hwesta e’ ale’quenle…May thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back.” Keep her safe, please…he silently prayed. 

While Kiah and Cadrieldur exchanged goodbyes, Legolas paused and watched the two friends. He could imagine what his mentor was feeling, for Belowen had expressed the same on their last night together. I will protect her, my friend. The enemy shall not claim her, he silently vowed. 

“Lle desiel? (‘Are you ready?’), Thranduil asked, bringing his son from his reverie. 

His youngest and surviving child nodded. “I am, Ada (‘Father’).” 

Mirkwood’s king regarded Legolas, feeling a father’s pride for the intelligent, strong, and gifted elf before him. He had been trained by the best, and now was the time to test what he had learned. Thranduil drew his son into his arms and hugged him close. “Aa’lasser en lle coia orn n’ omenta gurthas, nin ion. (‘May the leaves of your life tree never turn brown, my son.’)” 

Legolas returned the embrace, and then stepped back to mount Niondil (“Sunstone”), the horse he had raised personally. Kiah and the others followed suit, with her situated in the middle. She drew her hood over her head, and offered her own silent prayer, before spurring her steed in motion. 

 

The morning of October 25^th, 3018 saw a small band of elves—one unusually shorter than the others—approach the main entrance of Rivendell. Their journey was fast and relatively uneventful, except for the one or two Spiders they had encountered. No amount of description from Cadrieldur could have prepared Kiah for the massive monsters, spanning fifteen feet across. Immediately she had regretted agreeing to no telekinesis until the “appointed time”; watching Legolas and the others defeat the creatures was a bit much to her liking. The CPP’s were a cakewalk compared to these things, she had thought once the mini-battle was over. 

No sooner had Kiah dismounted than Gandalf appeared, a warm smile on his face. “You have made it in one piece, I see,” he stated. He welcomed the others before whisking her away, leaving her horse to one of the attendants. “Come, Strong One. There is someone who wishes to meet you, before the Council begins.” 

For some reason, the telekinetic looked back at Legolas, giving him a “What the hell is going on?” look. The prince of Mirkwood wondered the same. During their trek across his homeland, the human had unofficially declared a truce of sorts; not once did she object to his leadership. Kiah was not as sociable with him and the others as she was with Cadrieldur and her chambermaid, but at least she did speak on occasion. 

Kiah did her best to keep up with the wizard’s long strides, but at one point she stopped and told him to slow down, to which he complied…for about ten seconds. Along the way she passed a tall, beautiful elf-maiden with long, sable hair and piercing blue eyes. She regarded the small woman with a curiosity that wasn’t totally unpleasant. “Who was that?” she asked Gandalf when the elf had disappeared from view. 

“Lady Arwen, daughter of the person who wants to meet you,” he answered. 

“Who is this ‘person’ and why is he/she so eager to meet me?” 

He gave an amused look. “You are living proof of a prophecy, and yet you ask why someone wants to see you?” 

Kiah had to admit that was a pretty “duh” question; she just didn’t understand why the wizard was practically running and dragging her down the corridors. Just when she was about to tell him to stop—and physically make him if he didn’t—they came to a halt in front of two large, white doors with expansive etches and symbols written around the edges. “I guess this is it?” she asked, removing the cloak’s hood and revealing her face for the first time. 

Gandalf nodded and knocked on the door, waiting until he heard someone speak in Elvish. Kiah presumed the response was to enter, for the old man opened one of the doors and stepped aside to let her pass. Once inside, she silently marveled at her surroundings, the history and magic that permeated everything. In the center of the spacious room stood a tall, handsome elf with raven’s wing hair. There was something familiar about his face, she thought. This must be Lady Arwen’s father. 

Dark, ancient eyes stared into hazel ones for a moment, as if to see into the heart and spirit, into the past. When it felt like the elven lord was getting too close to her more shameful actions, Kiah broke the gaze. A chance look at the elf gave her the feeling that he understood. He approached and took both of her hands in his, solidifying the feeling of sympathy. 

“Your secrets are safe with me, Lady Kiah. You have nothing to fear. I am glad that I have this opportunity to meet you, Strong One. Mithrandir has spoken of you highly,” Elrond shared. 

Kiah quickly glanced at Gandalf before answering. “He did? Considering I’ve done some pretty low things, I find that a little surprising. But that’s a different discussion all together.” She politely extracted her hands from the elf lord’s and then continued. “What’s the plan, Lord Elrond? Do I attend the Council, or do I stay out of sight until the decision is made?” 

Mithrandir was right; she is quite straightforward. “Which would you prefer, milady?” he asked. 

The small woman didn’t hesitate in answering. “To stay out of sight.” 

“Why?” Gandalf interjected. 

Turning her eyes to the wizard, Kiah answered his question with a question. “Are there any females attending this meeting? Were any invited?” When he shook his head, she continued. “That’s why I should keep a low profile. One woman—a darker woman with a strange tongue and a stranger ability, at that—could possibly cause more harm than good.” 

“I disagree, Lady Kiah,” Gandalf stated. “Your role is vital to the challenge before us. All differences and grievances between races and genders will find no place here. The only thing important to all is the One Ring, and what we must do with it. You should attend.” 

She turned and looked to Elrond again, but the message in his eyes was the same as the wizard’s. Breathing deeply, she asked, “How long till it begins? I need to freshen up a bit.” 

 

It seemed like hours had rolled by as Kiah sat in the shadows, having insisted with Gandalf and Elrond that she “hover” around the Council, without actually being part of it. It was hard for her to break the habit of keeping a low profile, something she’d done for so long. It was her safeguard and her preference. “It’s worked for me all this time; what’s the point of changing up now?” she had asked them. 

Elrond had begun the discussion with the history of Sauron and the Rings of Power, something that the wizard had explained back in Mirkwood. From there it had progressed to Isildur’s Heir being alive and well in Strider, or Aragorn. Kiah’s first impression of the quiet and somewhat brooding man was that he bore a responsibility he didn’t want…just like her. Kindred spirit, she had thought. Her impression of Boromir, the representative from Gondor, wasn’t as bonding. Her gut instinct told her to watch for that one; his eagerness at harnessing the “devil’s ring” for good, when others could barely look at it, was a major red flag. 

There were two “tidbits” of information that took Kiah by surprise: one was the escape of some creature called Gollum, and the other was Gandalf’s imprisonment by Saruman. This must have happened long before I got here, because I didn’t hear a peep about either in Mirkwood. I wonder why…Then, for some reason she couldn’t really see or hear, Legolas and the dwarf named Gimli suddenly stood up and confronted each other.  

It was all she could do to keep from laughing: an elf that stood at least six feet tall glaring down at a man who was shorter than herself, and she stood at five-foot-two. From there, though, things got a little out of control, with more voices rising to the occasion. She heard Legolas shout once, “The ring must be destroyed!” Oh sweet Jesus, this is ridiculous, she observed. 

Another observation popped in Kiah’s head and past her lips before she could stop it. “Damn peacocks…always struttin’ to see who’s the loudest,” she muttered. When it looked like no one heard, she sighed relief. Unfortunate for her, she was hiding near Elrond, who heard it loud and clear. 

“What was that, Lady Kiah?” he called out, and all shouting came to a complete stop. The elf lord looked over at Gandalf, both sharing the same amused gleam in their eyes. 

“Damn,” she mumbled. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped from the shadows and stood near Elrond, giving both he and the wizard a glare. I told you I didn’t want to be at this damn thing, she was tempted to say. For every shocked and surprised stare she got from all except Gandalf and Legolas’ elves—and Aragorn, interesting enough--she returned it with an impatient and irritated one. 

“I said, ‘damn peacocks…always struttin’ to see who’s the loudest.’ You’re wasting time, people. This Sauron is coming, and coming fast, but you all are just sitting here for hours on end, going over history that everyone should’ve already known before you got here. Now maybe you’ve got time to spare, but I…do…not. So when you get over yourselves and get your egos in check, and you feel like making a damn decision, let me know, alright?” With that and a final glare to Elrond, Kiah retreated into the shadows and back to her assigned room. Oh yeah, that went smooth, K, real smooth. 

Most of the Council members sat mollified. A woman was at the Council…a woman. And she was small, and she was dark, as if kissed by the sun for a long time. And she was course in her manner and in her speech. Boromir looked around the rest of the group before he addressed the leader. “Lord Elrond…who was that?” 

 

The strange human female was an interesting topic of discussion both in and out of the Council for the rest of the day and evening. Once Kiah had left in an annoyed huff, Gandalf produced her scroll and shared with all. Suffice it to say, it didn’t go over very well with several people, in particular Gimli and Boromir. When the dwarf made a comment about the ineffectiveness of females as warriors, Legolas defended her, saying, “Before you would swing your axe, your throat would have already been sliced through…twice.” He didn’t know this for sure, for he wasn’t around for her training sessions with Cadrieldur. Still, he would’ve said anything to shut the pompous dwarf up. 

The woman herself was not around to hear any of this, having resigned to camping out in her room. She was irritated at Elrond for dragging her into that testosterone-heavy meeting, irritated at herself for letting him do that, and, and…she was tired as hell. Thus, she didn’t know exactly when one of the servants came in and removed her boots before tucking her in the large bed; she hit “sleepville” the second her head hit the pillow. 

Kiah’s mind was awake before her body, it seemed, the next morning. Thankful for a dreamless sleep, she sat up slowly and scooted out of bed. A few minutes later, she was partially washed and dressed in her “workout” gear, as she’d instructed the seamstress to make as best she can. She left the room quietly—for a human, anyways—with her swords and scabbard in tow. Her target was that small opening on the east side of Elrond’s home, something she spotted when she left the Council. She felt it was isolated enough not to attract attention. And if it isn’t, tough shit, she mused. 

After a couple of dead ends, Kiah finally arrived. Thankful again for the seamstress’ skills with a needle and thread, she felt comfortable in the “sweater” against the morning chill. She removed the swords from the scabbard and laid them horizontally in front of her on the stone ground. She knelt behind them, her palms flat against her thighs, her back straight. Kiah closed her eyes, her deep breaths ringing across the hidden space. In several minutes, she gave herself over to her kata. 

An hour and a half later, the telekinetic was almost at the end of her exercise. The “sweater” was tossed after thirty minutes, revealing the skin-tight dark green half shirt she wore, and the lingering scar from her last true fight across her abdomen. Wavy tendrils were plastered around her temples, and sweat glistened over the exposed parts of her body. The special-made broadswords flashed in the rising sun, followed by a spinning heel kick with her left foot. In Kiah’s mind, she saw the “opponents”—foul, evil, huge Orcs. In her mind and in her motions, she was hacking every one of them down. Her weapons pierced through skin, sinew, and bone, straight to the throat. She was a student of Latosa-Escrima, her Five-Strike System tailored just for her, and her “enemies” now knew it. 

One story above, Aragorn and Legolas watched the small woman “fight” with her eyes closed, no sound coming from her except for her breathing and contact of boot to stone. Isildur’s Heir was there first, passing by on his way to speak with Gandalf. Not soon after, the elf joined him, equally transfixed. He never got the chance to see Kiah and Cadrieldur spar; he never got the chance to ask his mentor and friend how she did. Seeing this—an offense that was defensive at the same time, an anticipation of moves even he could imagine, a balance and transition that were really pretty good—Mirkwood’s prince regretted not seeing this before. 

“Did you train her, my friend?” asked Aragorn. 

“No, I did not, Estel. She came to us knowing this. According to Cadrieldur, she is merely a beginner.” 

The exiled king smirked. “A beginner, you say? Pray tell how dangerous and lethal would an expert be?” At that moment there was a series of clanking noises, and the two looked down to see Kiah now “defenseless.” They continued to watch as she traded her swords for her fists and feet, punching and kicking at unseen opponents. She was exhausted, they could tell, but still kept going. 

“Remind me never to anger this woman, Legolas, for any reason,” Aragorn stated, amused and intrigued by Kiah. 

Legolas cocked a half-grin and then left, going down the nearest stairwell to her, just as she was wrapping up the session. He waited to speak while she knelt, swords before her on the ground, palms pressed on her thighs like before. He watched her hide those light brown eyes and take deep breaths before she leaned forward until her forehead rested on top of the blades. He could hear her fast pulse begin to decrease as she continued to slowly inhale, slowly exhale. It wasn’t until she was on her feet and sheathing her weapons before she noticed him. 

“G’mornin’,” she said, her voice still raspy from sleep and lack of use. “How long have you been there?” 

“Not long, milady,” Legolas answered. “How long have you been here?” 

Kiah shrugged as she stooped to gather her sweater and put it back on, her body heat lessening and the morning’s chill increasing. “A couple of hours, I think. That’s how long it normally takes.” She draped one of the scabbard’s straps over one shoulder and walked past the elf. “You might want to stand downwind, prince. I’m not exactly at my feminine-fresh best right now.” 

Legolas grinned; it was genuine, and the first time he’d smiled at her. It took Kiah by surprise, but she kept that to herself. 

“I have smelled worse, milady, and believe me, you do not smell bad,” he complimented as he walked beside her. Above them, Aragorn watched the two begin their ascent up the stairwell and then left to find Gandalf. 

“You practiced very well for a beginner, as you told Cadrieldur,” Legolas continued. His eyes didn’t stray far from her face; why, he didn’t know. 

Kiah smirked and shook her head. “I practiced like I was still at Level One.” 

“What level are you now?” 

“Level One and a half,” she answered and chuckled, her lips almost curling into a smile. “Seriously, I had just made it to Two before I came here. In a real fight, I would be missing half of my arm,” she added, demonstrating with a chopping motion to her left forearm. “But, that’s the purpose of training, right, to pick out the gaps and weaknesses?” 

Legolas nodded in agreement, and together they walked in anger-free silence. When they’d reached the top, Kiah spoke again. 

“Did you all decide to play nice and make a decision?” she asked. 

The elf half-raised an eyebrow at her sarcasm, something that he admitted he would have to get used to. “Yes, we did…the Halfling will carry the Ring to Mount Doom.” 

The telekinetic stepped back; to say she was shocked was an understatement. Oh no they didn’t. No they didn’t choose him; he’s just a kid! “Wha—who—Frodo? Wait a minute, are you serious? That boy had the guts to accept that kind of responsibility? What the hell were the rest of you doing, sitting there and picking your asses?” 

Legolas began to bristle at her tone, the unofficial truce officially disintegrating now. “That ‘boy’ is older than you, milady, by at least fifteen years. And just like you, it was foreseen that the hour of the Halfling has come. It was his choice; no one coerced him.” 

Kiah stared at him, her eyes flashing with disbelief and anger. “Unbelievable. We’ve got the cream of the crop sitting there, and you let that poor thing say, ‘Here I am, send me’.” She rolled her eyes and walked away, muttering “Unbelievable” under her breath. This quest is starting to reek of a conspiracy; two short people destined to help save this world…yeah right. I need to talk to Gandalf; maybe he can talk some sense into these fools. 

Her left arm was suddenly grabbed from behind and she was whirled around to face a very angry elf. Legolas took exception to the implication of Kiah’s words; matter of fact, if he had a pet peeve, being accused of spinelessness would definitely be it. “Are you implying that we showed cowardice?” he said lowly, his lips forming a thin line. 

The telekinetic tried to pull herself out of his grasp; when that failed, she ignored the wizard’s warning and used her power to push the prince back. “I’m implying nothing, Elf-boy. I’m saying that you all showed much cowardice. And Gandalf says you are to protect me? Fuck that, I’ll take my chances on the hobbits!” With that Kiah walked away again, rubbing her arm where he’d grabbed her roughly. Stupid little shit. If he left a bruise I will most definitely take it out of his ass, she secretly threatened. 

Again Legolas grabbed her arm, his elven blood rolling to a quick boil. “You shall not speak to me in that manner again, do you understand? Regardless of your origins and your purpose here, you will speak to me as a lady, and should that prove too much work for you, you will pretend. I am not a child you can scold, nor am I a coward you can mock. I take umbrage at your accusation, and you will apologize,” he ordered in a low, threatening tone…which was definitely the wrong thing to do. 

Standing on her tiptoes until they were almost face to face, Kiah glared at the blonde elf, her eye color shifting to an angry green. “You’ve got five seconds to get your damn hand off me or—“ 

“Or what?” he interrupted. 

“Or I’ll make sure Thranduil has no heir to Mirkwood, and believe me, I can do that,” she threatened. 

Before Legolas could counter, another voice interrupted, effectively throwing ice water on the hot situation. “Tampa (‘Stop’),” Elrond ordered calmly. Immediately the elf prince relinquished his hold on Kiah, who immediately shoved him, or tried to; he didn’t budge an inch. 

“Enough, Kiah,” Gandalf reinforced. He, the elf lord, and Aragorn looked from one to the other. 

She glared one last time at Legolas before shifting her anger to the trio of onlookers. “You had better get Elf-boy under control, Gandalf. I’m nobody’s ragdoll. If he so much as thinks of laying a hand on me, not even you will stop me from ripping him apart, got that?” she barked and started to walk away, only to stop when the old human called to her again. 

The wizard didn’t take her threat idly, for there was much of which her mind was capable. He had convinced Thranduil that their partnership was a good idea, but seeing them now--shooting daggers, swords, and axes from their eyes—he was beginning to have second thoughts. 

Legolas bristled again at the “Elf-boy” insult but said nothing, his anger at Kiah beginning to refocus on himself. I should not have done that, allowing her to get to me. I am almost 3,000 years old, and she is only 36, yet I was the one behaving like a child. If she did not hate me before, she will despise me now…why does that matter now? Perhaps I should return to Mirkwood, and Cadrieldur can take my place. 

Elrond didn’t have to chastise the other elf for his behavior, which he and the others saw from the beginning of the argument. He could read the guilt and reprimand in the prince’s eyes. He did, however, have to do that for her. He said patiently, “You two are very different, yet so very much alike. I understand your reservations, Lady Kiah. However, just as we are learning not to underestimate you, you must learn the same for the Halflings. The only thing short about them is their height; every other trait is larger than life, and that is what will make the difference in this mission.” 

Kiah’s eyes, slowly shifting from green back to their normal hazel hue—moved from Elrond, to Gandalf, to Aragorn, and finally to Legolas. An old phrase her father used to say appeared in her mind, “Never assume anything, because you make an ass out of you and me.” Well I know I was wrong for that, Papa, but still, he shouldn’t have touched me like that. Swallowing her pride, she took a deep breath and extended her right hand to Thranduil’s son. 

“I apologize for my threats and insults, prince Legolas,” she offered, hoping she didn’t rush it out. She wasn’t one to admit when she was wrong, but admitting it to him…it was a bitter pill to swallow. 

Legolas blinked once, twice, and then accepted her hand, holding it by the forearm. “And I apologize for mine, Lady Kiah.” They shook briefly before she extracted her hand, nodding once to the trio and then leaving. He followed her movements, his hand tingling from her energy like before. Before she rounded the corner, he was gone in the opposite direction. Both were still feeling offended, but also ashamed. The argument left the exiled king, the wizard, and the elf lord looking at one another. 

After Elrond gave him the same look Thranduil did nearly two weeks ago, Gandalf said, “This will work, my friend. It will have to.”