The Last Rites for Souls on Fire

Aragorn knew his friend was thinking about the Elf-maiden again. Legolas was making too many small errors in his packing for it to be anything else. He watched from the doorway for a moment as the Elf broke another arrow. It was probably the third one he'd busted since Aragorn had started watching him.
He decided to break his silence, "Le thel arabeth hin or bronadui? I will admit she is beautiful but she is also a Dark-Elf. She may have different intentions in this war. She may yet betray us, Legolas. An hin, im pin gerin amdir." (You will debate over her lastingly? For her, i have little hope.)
Legolas turned to his friend, hurt in his eyes, "I do not think she would betray us. What I struggle with is her title. In the few days I've known her she's gone from being a foul-mouthed warrior to a Queen."
Aragorn watched his friend fold himself to sit neatly on the floor, his head resting against the bed. Legolas' clear worry shone through his muttered words, "Faelwen, Ruin uin Mornedhel a Legolas, Laegeldrim ned Cuan, garo alamdir." (Faelwen, Queen of the Dark-Elves and Legolas, Prince of the Green-Elves, have no hope.)
Aragorn sat beside his grieving friend, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Perhaps I am wrong about her. Though, you need to push the issue from your mind, my friend; If it is meant to be, it will happen."
Legolas looked into the face of his friend. His eyes still reflected sadness but a slight smirk ghosted his lips, "You're right, Aragorn. We could end up like you and Arwen."

The next morning, the Fellowship stood waiting by the entrance of Rivendell for the Gondorian, now known to everyone as Boromir, and Faelwen. She was the first of the two to arrive; wearing her black tunic dress, grey leggings, a grey leather vest and a thick, midnight blue traveling cloak. Upon noticing that Boromir hadn't arrived she smiled, showing her slightly pointed teeth.
"Good to know you weren't all waiting on me. Does anyone know how long brui tharas is going to take?" (Noisy footstool)
Aragorn looked at her, noticeably amused, "We're not sure. Hopefully not long."
She smiled looking around the group. Her voice came out a little more caring, "Would anybody like help with anything while we wait?"
Gimli piped up from a little way away, "Not from an evil Elf-Witch."
She ignored him, looking at the Hobbits as they conducted an itinerary check of Sam's cooking utensils.
"No thanks, Miss Faelwen. You're mighty pretty, you know," Pippin said happily, and with such freedom that it almost made Legolas jealous. Though he quickly pushed it from his mind.
"Thank you, Pippin. You can just call me Faelwen. We'll be traveling together for a while; the formality of all that 'miss' business will just be a pain," She smiled brightly, ruffling Pippin's hair as he attempted to lift 4 unpacked frying pans into Sam's already-bulging pack.
Legolas watched her from the corner of his eye as she moved to sit at the side of group, drawing her long sword from behind her back. she removed a sharpening stone from a small pack that was attached to her waist. She moved the stone slowly up and down the blades edge, careful not to tarnish it's decoration, until Boromir arrived. He laid eyes on each person in the group, holding his gaze longer on Faelwen. She glared back at him, slowly replacing the stone to its place in her pack as she stood, never breaking eye contact. Only once she was upright did she move her sword, slowly returning it to it's sheath. She was the first to break eye contact, turning to the rest of group as they began to follow Gandalf on what he claimed was the fastest and safest way to Mordor.