Ok, so, Legolas (my muse) decided to pay me a visit in Math B today, so I
started to write this. It is a dark and VERY different perspective on how
Legolas and Aragorn first met, and let me tell you now, it is not under the
best of circumstances!
I have taken a rather odd approach to starting this story. From the notes that I jotted down as the thoughts came (very painful experience, lol) I have literally started this story in the middle of it. I kinda just picked a spot and started writing, but it worked out well. The reason for doing this is that it will have a sequel telling of further tales, and a precursory story, which will tell of what happened to cause this incident. All will be explained throughout the coming chapters so this story (should only be about 4-5 chapters long) though the precursory will be in a lot more depth. Also, the characters (especially Legolas) are kinda out of character at the moment, but that has its reason, and it too will be explained so please don't tell me that it is not right.
Oh, I also own nothing!!! All characters written about in this chapter belong to Tolkien and not me. I may have a few unimportant characters coming up, but chances are that somehow – even though I made them up I wont own them either. Guess I'm just unlucky! Lol.
I think that is a bout all, so sit back, relax, and enjoy.
*****
The Blood of Revenge.
Part One.
Ill Happenings.
The door slowly creaked open, flooding the darkened room with the soft glow of the torches that burned in the hallway. The room was spacious and will furnished, large tapestries hung from the ceiling and royal patterned rugs covered the floor. A wooden desk pilled with papers sat in the corner just near the curtained doorway to the balcony. But it was the four poster bed that drew the attention of the intruder standing in the doorway. It was crafted out of strong dark wood; its posts carved into an elaborate twisted design that accented the woods grain. Red and black silk was used as sheets and covers, adding the royal affect to the whole scene and a white fly net hung from the crossed over top poles forming an inclosed cover.
The intruder stepped into the room cautiously. He could easily hear the deep and relaxed breaths of the sleeping form spread out in the bed as well as faintly being able to see the rise and fall of the silk sheets. But that did nothing to ease his troubled mind.
Pushing a lock of his golden hair away from his face he peered further into the room. Nothing moved except the steady rising of the lump in the bed and the occasional blowing of the curtains in the wind.
The tall figure closed the door with a soft click and silently walked over to the bed. Pulling back the netting, the tall man leaned in to look at the person that he had ruthlessly hunted for so long. Months of tiresome searching and tracking had been spent looking for this man, and now that he had found him, he could feel the anger rise up within him again, even though it had never truly left.
The man's shoulder length wavy dark hair hung about his face and spilled onto the pillow. A small amount of facial hair grew on his upper lip ad chin, framing a slightly parted mouth. His breaths were even and fluent even though his brow was creased into a frown.
As the figure watched, the man tossed in his sleep, letting out a startled cry as he clung to a small black square pillow. The sudden movement made the standing man draw back with a start, his heart pounding quickly.
Looking at the seemingly defenseless sleeping man, his heart slowly started to soften. There was something about the unconscious form in the bed that almost made the intruder want to turn and leave, to put the past months of anger and hurt out of his mind and let the cursed man live.
Almost.
With a silent sigh he slumped down into a chair that was positioned near the bed and carefully placed his booted feet upon the silky sheets. He couldn't understand why he was having these doubts. This human had taken from him what he held dear, what he thought to be the source of his very existence, and now, when he had the chance, he found himself wanting to spare the evil man.
He thought to the stories the Elders used to tell him when he was but a hundred years old. That Men were evil, that they were a hindrance to Manwë and reflected in them too much of the like of Melkor. For as long as he could remember that was what was taught to him, "never trust the likes of a Man, for their hearts and heads are corrupted and they hold no love for the gifts given to them," the words of his advisor, his teacher and his friend.
To this day he had never trusted a Man, and he could see why the Elders spoke of them in the way that they do. He had seen for himself the destruction that pumped through their veins, driving them forward with an unquenchable thirst for power and titles. Their want for glory even in times of great peace and most of all their blunt disrespect for the world and it's intricate song.
It upset him more then angered him, that a being with such gifts from the gods could be so distant from them. But there was nothing he could do about it and he knew it. One Elf could not change the course of the future, even if he had reason to try. So why should he care that this man should loose his life as a payment of that which he took?
To this, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, king of the woodland Elves of Mirkwood had no answers. All he felt was a deep confusion that ate away at his very soul. He did not want to take this mans life, nor did he wish to let him live and go against his fathers wishes, yet deep down, he felt something was wrong. Something was not how it should be, that something had been changed, not just in the world but in him.
Until a few months ago, Legolas would have never known that he could feel such hate and anger to anything but Orcs, let alone a human. Sure he did not like them, but it was not of the fiery rage that forced its way to the surface like it did now. But this man had taken from him a friend, someone that he valued above his own life, and for that Thranduil had bid Legolas gain revenge, not just for himself, but for all the Elves.
What had followed then was month after month of tracking the fleeing mortal half way across Middle-Earth, only to have him turn around and head right back.
He had finally caught up with his prey in Bree, but when a rather large brawl broke out in The Prancing Pony, somehow the dark-haired man had given him the slip and once again headed off into the wild.
For a human, he was well skilled in bush survival and in the ways of the land, which at first did surprise Legolas, but he soon found the reason for this talents. As it turned out, the man was a ranger, one of the few Men that the Elves had any contact with whatsoever. All this new found information did was to confuse Legolas further as why would a ranger have the need or want to kill an immortal? They were one of the few humans that saw the beauty in the world, had other ideas of living their mortal lives then just for the purpose of gaining power and wealth. And above all, they still saw their mortality as a gift, the way Ilúvartar had intended.
To Legolas, this title automatically called for respect, and yet here he was, stalking the man in order to kill him for the wrongs that he had committed.
When the ranger had left Bree and headed right for Rivendell, Legolas had feared the worst, but instead of the man sneaking in and killing yet another, he was welcomed gleefully by Lord Elrond and the other elves, as if he had lived there all his life. Yet another confusing twist to add to the list of doubts that were ever growing in Legolas's mind.
But now here he was, sitting in the man's room, ready to do what his father bid him do three months ago.
It had taken all of the Elf's skill to sneak into Rivendell. He hated the fact of having to be so secretive, but he knew that if his presence was known than there would be feasts and welcomes, and the man would be warned of his arrival, thus giving him the chance to escape him again. This he could not let happen, so instead, he snuck in between the guard shifts.
Rivendell's defenses were some of the best, but years of treading lightly and staying out of sight of the fell beasts that now roamed Mirkwood had taught the crowned prince a thing or two about being cunning and silent, beyond even that of a normal Elf's ability.
As he sat there, watching the sleeping person and reminiscing about the time he had passed tracking him, his doubts increased. Something really felt wrong, but he could not quite put his finger on what it was.
Finally, with a lot of careful consideration, he made up his mind to leave, to slip out as silently and quickly as he had come and forget about this whole unpleasant experience.
Pulling his feet from the bed, he stood up gracefully and walked to the door. Reaching down for the door handle, he took it in his grasp, and that's when he heard it.
A scream.
A terror filled scream that pierced his heart. That scream had followed him, had been there whenever he had the time to take note of it. It drowned out the sound of the morning birds chirping as they woke, hid the bubbling of streams and rose above the voices of crowded rooms.
It belonged to a dying immortal. His friend, pierced through the heart by an arrow as he lay there in Legolas's arms, fear in his eyes as his soul slipped away, leaving the body far behind. With this scream came the realization that he could not leave, he had to finish what he started, not for himself, but for his friend.
Swiftly turning back to face the bed, he stalked over to the open netted side. Reaching down into his boot he pulled out a short dagger forged of silver and gripped it tightly in his right hand. The curtains blew in the background, allowing a sliver of moonlight to come streaming into the room, illuminating the face of the sleeping man and glittering off the tip of the dagger.
Legolas ignored what he saw as an attempt to sway his mind, and lifted the dagger higher, aiming it to plunge into the mans heart. But what came next was something that within all his planning he could not have guessed to happen.
Another scream filed his ears; the only difference was that this one was here in the room with him, not being played in his head.
Spinning around to face the door he saw a young Elven maiden standing at the now opened door. Legolas realized that he must have been so caught up in what he was doing that he had not heard the door open or the entrance of the young woman. What she was doing here he had no clue to, but before he could try to speak to her, she slammed the door shut and called again for the guards.
The man in the bed was slowly and groggily coming too, taking his time in opening his eyes and Legolas was at least thankful for that blessing on this horrible night.
Legolas could hear the guards' footsteps running down the hall and knew that things had gone really bad. Looking wildly around him, he saw only two options. One was the window, but he knew that he had only moments before the guards would arrive and he would never make it, no matter how fast he was. The other was more dangerous and even irrational, but there was really nothing else he could do.
Making up his mind to go with the latter idea, he quickly whirled into action just as the door flew open for a second time.
*****
Tbc…
Ok, so I'm evil, deal!
Hope you liked that. I thought it would be cool to do something about when they met, but it has been done so many times before, so I though I'd add a little bit of Minka weirdisum and see what I could come up with – this was it. And it will get a bit weirder and a hell of a lot darker and touch on a hate rarely seen.
Please review – you now it makes me happy!
Minka Rain Greenleaf.
I have taken a rather odd approach to starting this story. From the notes that I jotted down as the thoughts came (very painful experience, lol) I have literally started this story in the middle of it. I kinda just picked a spot and started writing, but it worked out well. The reason for doing this is that it will have a sequel telling of further tales, and a precursory story, which will tell of what happened to cause this incident. All will be explained throughout the coming chapters so this story (should only be about 4-5 chapters long) though the precursory will be in a lot more depth. Also, the characters (especially Legolas) are kinda out of character at the moment, but that has its reason, and it too will be explained so please don't tell me that it is not right.
Oh, I also own nothing!!! All characters written about in this chapter belong to Tolkien and not me. I may have a few unimportant characters coming up, but chances are that somehow – even though I made them up I wont own them either. Guess I'm just unlucky! Lol.
I think that is a bout all, so sit back, relax, and enjoy.
*****
The Blood of Revenge.
Part One.
Ill Happenings.
The door slowly creaked open, flooding the darkened room with the soft glow of the torches that burned in the hallway. The room was spacious and will furnished, large tapestries hung from the ceiling and royal patterned rugs covered the floor. A wooden desk pilled with papers sat in the corner just near the curtained doorway to the balcony. But it was the four poster bed that drew the attention of the intruder standing in the doorway. It was crafted out of strong dark wood; its posts carved into an elaborate twisted design that accented the woods grain. Red and black silk was used as sheets and covers, adding the royal affect to the whole scene and a white fly net hung from the crossed over top poles forming an inclosed cover.
The intruder stepped into the room cautiously. He could easily hear the deep and relaxed breaths of the sleeping form spread out in the bed as well as faintly being able to see the rise and fall of the silk sheets. But that did nothing to ease his troubled mind.
Pushing a lock of his golden hair away from his face he peered further into the room. Nothing moved except the steady rising of the lump in the bed and the occasional blowing of the curtains in the wind.
The tall figure closed the door with a soft click and silently walked over to the bed. Pulling back the netting, the tall man leaned in to look at the person that he had ruthlessly hunted for so long. Months of tiresome searching and tracking had been spent looking for this man, and now that he had found him, he could feel the anger rise up within him again, even though it had never truly left.
The man's shoulder length wavy dark hair hung about his face and spilled onto the pillow. A small amount of facial hair grew on his upper lip ad chin, framing a slightly parted mouth. His breaths were even and fluent even though his brow was creased into a frown.
As the figure watched, the man tossed in his sleep, letting out a startled cry as he clung to a small black square pillow. The sudden movement made the standing man draw back with a start, his heart pounding quickly.
Looking at the seemingly defenseless sleeping man, his heart slowly started to soften. There was something about the unconscious form in the bed that almost made the intruder want to turn and leave, to put the past months of anger and hurt out of his mind and let the cursed man live.
Almost.
With a silent sigh he slumped down into a chair that was positioned near the bed and carefully placed his booted feet upon the silky sheets. He couldn't understand why he was having these doubts. This human had taken from him what he held dear, what he thought to be the source of his very existence, and now, when he had the chance, he found himself wanting to spare the evil man.
He thought to the stories the Elders used to tell him when he was but a hundred years old. That Men were evil, that they were a hindrance to Manwë and reflected in them too much of the like of Melkor. For as long as he could remember that was what was taught to him, "never trust the likes of a Man, for their hearts and heads are corrupted and they hold no love for the gifts given to them," the words of his advisor, his teacher and his friend.
To this day he had never trusted a Man, and he could see why the Elders spoke of them in the way that they do. He had seen for himself the destruction that pumped through their veins, driving them forward with an unquenchable thirst for power and titles. Their want for glory even in times of great peace and most of all their blunt disrespect for the world and it's intricate song.
It upset him more then angered him, that a being with such gifts from the gods could be so distant from them. But there was nothing he could do about it and he knew it. One Elf could not change the course of the future, even if he had reason to try. So why should he care that this man should loose his life as a payment of that which he took?
To this, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, king of the woodland Elves of Mirkwood had no answers. All he felt was a deep confusion that ate away at his very soul. He did not want to take this mans life, nor did he wish to let him live and go against his fathers wishes, yet deep down, he felt something was wrong. Something was not how it should be, that something had been changed, not just in the world but in him.
Until a few months ago, Legolas would have never known that he could feel such hate and anger to anything but Orcs, let alone a human. Sure he did not like them, but it was not of the fiery rage that forced its way to the surface like it did now. But this man had taken from him a friend, someone that he valued above his own life, and for that Thranduil had bid Legolas gain revenge, not just for himself, but for all the Elves.
What had followed then was month after month of tracking the fleeing mortal half way across Middle-Earth, only to have him turn around and head right back.
He had finally caught up with his prey in Bree, but when a rather large brawl broke out in The Prancing Pony, somehow the dark-haired man had given him the slip and once again headed off into the wild.
For a human, he was well skilled in bush survival and in the ways of the land, which at first did surprise Legolas, but he soon found the reason for this talents. As it turned out, the man was a ranger, one of the few Men that the Elves had any contact with whatsoever. All this new found information did was to confuse Legolas further as why would a ranger have the need or want to kill an immortal? They were one of the few humans that saw the beauty in the world, had other ideas of living their mortal lives then just for the purpose of gaining power and wealth. And above all, they still saw their mortality as a gift, the way Ilúvartar had intended.
To Legolas, this title automatically called for respect, and yet here he was, stalking the man in order to kill him for the wrongs that he had committed.
When the ranger had left Bree and headed right for Rivendell, Legolas had feared the worst, but instead of the man sneaking in and killing yet another, he was welcomed gleefully by Lord Elrond and the other elves, as if he had lived there all his life. Yet another confusing twist to add to the list of doubts that were ever growing in Legolas's mind.
But now here he was, sitting in the man's room, ready to do what his father bid him do three months ago.
It had taken all of the Elf's skill to sneak into Rivendell. He hated the fact of having to be so secretive, but he knew that if his presence was known than there would be feasts and welcomes, and the man would be warned of his arrival, thus giving him the chance to escape him again. This he could not let happen, so instead, he snuck in between the guard shifts.
Rivendell's defenses were some of the best, but years of treading lightly and staying out of sight of the fell beasts that now roamed Mirkwood had taught the crowned prince a thing or two about being cunning and silent, beyond even that of a normal Elf's ability.
As he sat there, watching the sleeping person and reminiscing about the time he had passed tracking him, his doubts increased. Something really felt wrong, but he could not quite put his finger on what it was.
Finally, with a lot of careful consideration, he made up his mind to leave, to slip out as silently and quickly as he had come and forget about this whole unpleasant experience.
Pulling his feet from the bed, he stood up gracefully and walked to the door. Reaching down for the door handle, he took it in his grasp, and that's when he heard it.
A scream.
A terror filled scream that pierced his heart. That scream had followed him, had been there whenever he had the time to take note of it. It drowned out the sound of the morning birds chirping as they woke, hid the bubbling of streams and rose above the voices of crowded rooms.
It belonged to a dying immortal. His friend, pierced through the heart by an arrow as he lay there in Legolas's arms, fear in his eyes as his soul slipped away, leaving the body far behind. With this scream came the realization that he could not leave, he had to finish what he started, not for himself, but for his friend.
Swiftly turning back to face the bed, he stalked over to the open netted side. Reaching down into his boot he pulled out a short dagger forged of silver and gripped it tightly in his right hand. The curtains blew in the background, allowing a sliver of moonlight to come streaming into the room, illuminating the face of the sleeping man and glittering off the tip of the dagger.
Legolas ignored what he saw as an attempt to sway his mind, and lifted the dagger higher, aiming it to plunge into the mans heart. But what came next was something that within all his planning he could not have guessed to happen.
Another scream filed his ears; the only difference was that this one was here in the room with him, not being played in his head.
Spinning around to face the door he saw a young Elven maiden standing at the now opened door. Legolas realized that he must have been so caught up in what he was doing that he had not heard the door open or the entrance of the young woman. What she was doing here he had no clue to, but before he could try to speak to her, she slammed the door shut and called again for the guards.
The man in the bed was slowly and groggily coming too, taking his time in opening his eyes and Legolas was at least thankful for that blessing on this horrible night.
Legolas could hear the guards' footsteps running down the hall and knew that things had gone really bad. Looking wildly around him, he saw only two options. One was the window, but he knew that he had only moments before the guards would arrive and he would never make it, no matter how fast he was. The other was more dangerous and even irrational, but there was really nothing else he could do.
Making up his mind to go with the latter idea, he quickly whirled into action just as the door flew open for a second time.
*****
Tbc…
Ok, so I'm evil, deal!
Hope you liked that. I thought it would be cool to do something about when they met, but it has been done so many times before, so I though I'd add a little bit of Minka weirdisum and see what I could come up with – this was it. And it will get a bit weirder and a hell of a lot darker and touch on a hate rarely seen.
Please review – you now it makes me happy!
Minka Rain Greenleaf.