OK. Another one. I'm still working on Stolen 8, but somehow this stupid
plot bunny kept nagging me til I wrote this and shared it. Nothing really
inspired it; it just happened. I didn't know what was going to happen until
it did happen. This one was written in about an hour and I was listening to
my absolute favorite song the entire time ("Gimme the beat, boys, and free
my soul. I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away..." Sorry. I
love that song. The original, by Dobie Grey although Uncle Kracker does
pretty good with their remake...right. Rambling. On to the vignette-story-
thingy.)
Title: On the Wind
Rating: PG, for what some might call some action-y scariness. (What? You try explaining it. I'd say its G, but, you know, two things get shot.)
Disclaimer: I only wish I were getting paid for this. No infringement is intended. I write only for my pleasure and perhaps the pleasure of others.
Summary: During a cold night in Mirkwood, an elf and his horse try to get home. (Vignette)
Wind swirled through tree branches, rustling leaves and taking some of them with it. Nothing was quiet in the dreary darkness of twilight. It seemed the fell creatures that inhabited parts of this forest ventured closer to the homes here tonight, so oppressive the darkness was. The wind picked up, whether in coming with the creatures or in protest to them, no one knew. Above the sound of the wind was a small whicker and a dark chestnut head came up, large sensitive nostrils flaring. The mare limped forward, instinctively searching for the one she knew could protect her from the night. Another small sound escaped her, a desperate note sounding, as she looked around.
The one she looked for did not fail her. A lone figure pushed himself off the tree he'd been leaning on and made his way to her side. Laying one hand on her shoulder, Legolas whispered soft words in her trembling ear. He smiled when she quieted. He wrapped his cloak around himself a little tighter. He had been out here for hours with her, and the wind was starting to bite into any exposed skin. "We will be home soon," he told her, patting her shoulder gently. "We stopped for you to rest." He paused. He fancied that if he actually had the energy to run his hands through his long hair, there would be ice forming there. "Though I would like nothing more than to get home." He looked around, rubbing his hands together. His fingers were beginning to ache and, almost in wonder, he stared at them as he flexed them carefully. He looked from his fingers to the mare and back again. With a small shake of his head, he placed his fingers in the mare's mane, curling them into the coarse hair and let the horse's heat warm him up just a little. "Ah," he sighed. "Why did I not think of that before?" He laid his forehead against her neck. "Thank you, mellon nin."
They stood there for a few moments. Occasionally, the mare would snort and stare into the trees. When she did this, her master spoke soft words, calming her and at the same time, peering into the darkening forest warily. They both felt something on the wind. It seemed to him that there was more than the natural course of things darkening the forest.
"If you are ready to move," he finally said, "we should leave this place." The mare snorted softly, and pawed the ground with her injured hoof. He laughed quietly. "As restless to leave as I am, I see. First, though, we must be sure we are in a condition to move." With that, he ran his hands down the horse's left foreleg, slowing at the gash that decorated her deep red coat. It was a deep cut, to the bone, and ran most of the length of her leg. His hands came away coated with sticky blood. He dabbed at it with his sleeve, cleaning it as best he could. "This would be easier," he said ruefully as he moved to look at another series of cuts under her elbow, "if we had not lost all our supplies."
The mare shook her head, as if to tell him that it hadn't been her fault.
"Oh, really," was his reply. He stood up, patted her shoulder gently. "You were the one that shied. Come, little one. I've done what I can." With his right hand resting in her mane, they moved forward slowly, each one carefully watching the night, unsure of what they were looking for.
Soon, the mare stopped. Trembling, she looked through the trees left of them. Legolas slowly took his hand from her and readied his bow. This time, he knew that no soft words could comfort the horse. They were too close.
Suddenly, the mare planted her feet, stumbling a little as the injured leg came down. Looking up, she half reared and danced backward. Legolas sidestepped, coming around and looking up, arrow ready to fly. He let it loose. A mere moment later, he smiled in grim staisfaction as he heard a thud and the twitching body of a spider landed at his feet. For a moment, there was no movement. Legolas notched another arrow. The mare pranced sideways, tail and ears twitching nervously. The wind made the only noise as it whistled menacingly through the trees.
Another spider dropped through the trees, landing squarely on the horse's back. She reared, a high pitched scream echoing as she tried to dislodge her attacker. An elven arrow flew true, piercing the spider and the force of the arrow knocked it to the ground.
The mare stood, trembling, as again all turned silent. The wind died down enough for Legolas to hear the scrambling of spiders in the trees. He had an arrow pointed into the branches, but couldn't find a target. His aching fingers trembled slightly as he moved the bow back and forth, searching for one of the foul beasts to fell. His eyes narrowed as the sounds of the spiders reached him. They seemed to be leaving. Something had drove them away.
Either that, or they had suddenly become as intelligent as those that hunted them. Legolas wondered briefly if he was the victim of a spider trick to catch him off his guard.
Brush rustled left of him and he whirled, bringing his arrow to bear. The mare turned, too, lowering her head and snorting.
"I am not a spider, warg, wolf, or some other fell creature," came the call from that direction.
"Oh, I don't know. I know some people who would call you a fell creature."
Legolas smiled and lowered his bow. "I should shoot anyway," he called back as he turned to his mare to quiet her spirit.
"Whyever for?" Elrohir asked indignantly as he came through the brush into sight. Elladan and Aragorn followed, both grinning.
"General purposes," Legolas answered quietly as he buried his fingers back into the horse's mane.
"Oh, I know you are glad to see us," Elladan said.
"Did I say I wasn't?"
"No, but you did threaten to shoot me," Elrohir put in. "That tells me you really do not want help getting home."
Legolas rolled his eyes and curled his fingers tighter, wincing at the pain the movement brought. "This is the last time I invite you to visit Mirkwood."
"Seems ironic to me," Aragorn said, "that it is us who have to rescue you in your own forests, oh mighty Wood-elf."
Legolas gave Aragorn a glare that said more than any words might have said. Aragorn, however, laughed as his friend's glare dissolved into a grin.
"What's wrong with your hands?"
"Nothing, Strider." In spite of himself, Legolas flexed his hands again. Seeing the looks of irritation directed in his direction, Legolas sighed. "Truly," he said, sounding defensive.
"Right," Elladan said as he dismounted. He approached Legolas, but instead of insisting on seeing the prince's hands, he looked at the cuts along the mare's leg and side. "So this would be what delayed your return?"
"Aye," Legolas answered. "They are superficial," he said as he knelt beside Elladan to show him the worst of the cuts, "but they are quite painful to her. My supplies were lost, so I could not help much."
Elladan nodded, then pointed to a gash on the mare's shoulder. "Look at this one, Legolas. Tell me what you think."
Legolas didn't quite udnerstand the request. Elladan was a much better healer than he could ever hope to be. All the same, Legolas reached toward the cut. Elladan caught the elf's hand and stood up, pulling Legolas with him to Aragorn, who was standing beside his horse. Elladan put the prince's hand in Aragorn's. "Take care of this while Elrohir and I take care of that," he said, pointing to the mare.
Legolas rolled his eyes. "I am fine, Estel."
Aragorn nodded. "You might well be, but isn't it better to err on the side of safety."
"Since when do you err on that side?"
Aragorn pointedly ignored the question. "Both hands," he said, reaching out for his other hand.
Legolas sighed and complied.
Aragorn turned his hands this way and that, frowning all the while. "How long have you been out here?"
"Too long. I wish to be at least on my way home," the elf answered pointedly.
Aragorn let go of his hands. "Stay." The man took off his own leather gloves and handed them to Legolas. "Put them on. You've let them get cold."
"I have let them?" Legolas repeated incredulously. "It wasn't an actual plan of mine, you know. Item number seven: Let hands get too cold."
"Now you are getting defensive."
"What of you?" Legolas asked, ignoring the remark.
Aragorn smiled. "I carry two pair." He reached into his saddlebag and withdrew another pair. "Go on. Put them on, you stubborn elf."
Elrohir approached them, smiling. "Straightened out, then?" Off their nods, he continued. "Good. We've done what we can here. She should rest, really, but with all the spiders about, we thought it better to move out instead. Legolas, ride with Estel?"
The prince nodded and went to his horse, patting her shoulder and talking to her once more. He mounted behind Estel. "Finally," he breathed.
"What's that?"
"Just in a hurry to get home," Legolas answered.
Aragorn nodded sagely. "It is a biting wind, is it not?" he asked teasingly.
Legolas cuffed the back of his head. After a moment, though, he spoke again. "I do have a question."
"What?" Aragorn answered.
Legolas flexed his fingers again and glanced down at them with a perplexed look and back to Aragorn's questioning gaze. "How do you men stand this cold?"
Aragorn laughed. "Ups the respect you give us then, does it?"
"No. It only affirms my own superiority," Legolas answered, trying vainly to hide his growing mirth.
"I should let you walk," Aragorn muttered as he ducked another cuff from Legolas.
The End...
("...When my mind is free, you know a melody can move me. When I'm feelin' blue, the guitar's coming through to soothe me. Thanks for the joy that you've given me. I want you to know I believe in your song, rhythm and rhyme and harmony, You help me along, your making me strong, oh...")
Told you I loved that song.
Anyway, I won't bore you with more song lyrics, though I could type the whole thing from memory while singing. What'd think of the story?
*shaking head at her own freakiness* cheers, Kellen
Title: On the Wind
Rating: PG, for what some might call some action-y scariness. (What? You try explaining it. I'd say its G, but, you know, two things get shot.)
Disclaimer: I only wish I were getting paid for this. No infringement is intended. I write only for my pleasure and perhaps the pleasure of others.
Summary: During a cold night in Mirkwood, an elf and his horse try to get home. (Vignette)
Wind swirled through tree branches, rustling leaves and taking some of them with it. Nothing was quiet in the dreary darkness of twilight. It seemed the fell creatures that inhabited parts of this forest ventured closer to the homes here tonight, so oppressive the darkness was. The wind picked up, whether in coming with the creatures or in protest to them, no one knew. Above the sound of the wind was a small whicker and a dark chestnut head came up, large sensitive nostrils flaring. The mare limped forward, instinctively searching for the one she knew could protect her from the night. Another small sound escaped her, a desperate note sounding, as she looked around.
The one she looked for did not fail her. A lone figure pushed himself off the tree he'd been leaning on and made his way to her side. Laying one hand on her shoulder, Legolas whispered soft words in her trembling ear. He smiled when she quieted. He wrapped his cloak around himself a little tighter. He had been out here for hours with her, and the wind was starting to bite into any exposed skin. "We will be home soon," he told her, patting her shoulder gently. "We stopped for you to rest." He paused. He fancied that if he actually had the energy to run his hands through his long hair, there would be ice forming there. "Though I would like nothing more than to get home." He looked around, rubbing his hands together. His fingers were beginning to ache and, almost in wonder, he stared at them as he flexed them carefully. He looked from his fingers to the mare and back again. With a small shake of his head, he placed his fingers in the mare's mane, curling them into the coarse hair and let the horse's heat warm him up just a little. "Ah," he sighed. "Why did I not think of that before?" He laid his forehead against her neck. "Thank you, mellon nin."
They stood there for a few moments. Occasionally, the mare would snort and stare into the trees. When she did this, her master spoke soft words, calming her and at the same time, peering into the darkening forest warily. They both felt something on the wind. It seemed to him that there was more than the natural course of things darkening the forest.
"If you are ready to move," he finally said, "we should leave this place." The mare snorted softly, and pawed the ground with her injured hoof. He laughed quietly. "As restless to leave as I am, I see. First, though, we must be sure we are in a condition to move." With that, he ran his hands down the horse's left foreleg, slowing at the gash that decorated her deep red coat. It was a deep cut, to the bone, and ran most of the length of her leg. His hands came away coated with sticky blood. He dabbed at it with his sleeve, cleaning it as best he could. "This would be easier," he said ruefully as he moved to look at another series of cuts under her elbow, "if we had not lost all our supplies."
The mare shook her head, as if to tell him that it hadn't been her fault.
"Oh, really," was his reply. He stood up, patted her shoulder gently. "You were the one that shied. Come, little one. I've done what I can." With his right hand resting in her mane, they moved forward slowly, each one carefully watching the night, unsure of what they were looking for.
Soon, the mare stopped. Trembling, she looked through the trees left of them. Legolas slowly took his hand from her and readied his bow. This time, he knew that no soft words could comfort the horse. They were too close.
Suddenly, the mare planted her feet, stumbling a little as the injured leg came down. Looking up, she half reared and danced backward. Legolas sidestepped, coming around and looking up, arrow ready to fly. He let it loose. A mere moment later, he smiled in grim staisfaction as he heard a thud and the twitching body of a spider landed at his feet. For a moment, there was no movement. Legolas notched another arrow. The mare pranced sideways, tail and ears twitching nervously. The wind made the only noise as it whistled menacingly through the trees.
Another spider dropped through the trees, landing squarely on the horse's back. She reared, a high pitched scream echoing as she tried to dislodge her attacker. An elven arrow flew true, piercing the spider and the force of the arrow knocked it to the ground.
The mare stood, trembling, as again all turned silent. The wind died down enough for Legolas to hear the scrambling of spiders in the trees. He had an arrow pointed into the branches, but couldn't find a target. His aching fingers trembled slightly as he moved the bow back and forth, searching for one of the foul beasts to fell. His eyes narrowed as the sounds of the spiders reached him. They seemed to be leaving. Something had drove them away.
Either that, or they had suddenly become as intelligent as those that hunted them. Legolas wondered briefly if he was the victim of a spider trick to catch him off his guard.
Brush rustled left of him and he whirled, bringing his arrow to bear. The mare turned, too, lowering her head and snorting.
"I am not a spider, warg, wolf, or some other fell creature," came the call from that direction.
"Oh, I don't know. I know some people who would call you a fell creature."
Legolas smiled and lowered his bow. "I should shoot anyway," he called back as he turned to his mare to quiet her spirit.
"Whyever for?" Elrohir asked indignantly as he came through the brush into sight. Elladan and Aragorn followed, both grinning.
"General purposes," Legolas answered quietly as he buried his fingers back into the horse's mane.
"Oh, I know you are glad to see us," Elladan said.
"Did I say I wasn't?"
"No, but you did threaten to shoot me," Elrohir put in. "That tells me you really do not want help getting home."
Legolas rolled his eyes and curled his fingers tighter, wincing at the pain the movement brought. "This is the last time I invite you to visit Mirkwood."
"Seems ironic to me," Aragorn said, "that it is us who have to rescue you in your own forests, oh mighty Wood-elf."
Legolas gave Aragorn a glare that said more than any words might have said. Aragorn, however, laughed as his friend's glare dissolved into a grin.
"What's wrong with your hands?"
"Nothing, Strider." In spite of himself, Legolas flexed his hands again. Seeing the looks of irritation directed in his direction, Legolas sighed. "Truly," he said, sounding defensive.
"Right," Elladan said as he dismounted. He approached Legolas, but instead of insisting on seeing the prince's hands, he looked at the cuts along the mare's leg and side. "So this would be what delayed your return?"
"Aye," Legolas answered. "They are superficial," he said as he knelt beside Elladan to show him the worst of the cuts, "but they are quite painful to her. My supplies were lost, so I could not help much."
Elladan nodded, then pointed to a gash on the mare's shoulder. "Look at this one, Legolas. Tell me what you think."
Legolas didn't quite udnerstand the request. Elladan was a much better healer than he could ever hope to be. All the same, Legolas reached toward the cut. Elladan caught the elf's hand and stood up, pulling Legolas with him to Aragorn, who was standing beside his horse. Elladan put the prince's hand in Aragorn's. "Take care of this while Elrohir and I take care of that," he said, pointing to the mare.
Legolas rolled his eyes. "I am fine, Estel."
Aragorn nodded. "You might well be, but isn't it better to err on the side of safety."
"Since when do you err on that side?"
Aragorn pointedly ignored the question. "Both hands," he said, reaching out for his other hand.
Legolas sighed and complied.
Aragorn turned his hands this way and that, frowning all the while. "How long have you been out here?"
"Too long. I wish to be at least on my way home," the elf answered pointedly.
Aragorn let go of his hands. "Stay." The man took off his own leather gloves and handed them to Legolas. "Put them on. You've let them get cold."
"I have let them?" Legolas repeated incredulously. "It wasn't an actual plan of mine, you know. Item number seven: Let hands get too cold."
"Now you are getting defensive."
"What of you?" Legolas asked, ignoring the remark.
Aragorn smiled. "I carry two pair." He reached into his saddlebag and withdrew another pair. "Go on. Put them on, you stubborn elf."
Elrohir approached them, smiling. "Straightened out, then?" Off their nods, he continued. "Good. We've done what we can here. She should rest, really, but with all the spiders about, we thought it better to move out instead. Legolas, ride with Estel?"
The prince nodded and went to his horse, patting her shoulder and talking to her once more. He mounted behind Estel. "Finally," he breathed.
"What's that?"
"Just in a hurry to get home," Legolas answered.
Aragorn nodded sagely. "It is a biting wind, is it not?" he asked teasingly.
Legolas cuffed the back of his head. After a moment, though, he spoke again. "I do have a question."
"What?" Aragorn answered.
Legolas flexed his fingers again and glanced down at them with a perplexed look and back to Aragorn's questioning gaze. "How do you men stand this cold?"
Aragorn laughed. "Ups the respect you give us then, does it?"
"No. It only affirms my own superiority," Legolas answered, trying vainly to hide his growing mirth.
"I should let you walk," Aragorn muttered as he ducked another cuff from Legolas.
The End...
("...When my mind is free, you know a melody can move me. When I'm feelin' blue, the guitar's coming through to soothe me. Thanks for the joy that you've given me. I want you to know I believe in your song, rhythm and rhyme and harmony, You help me along, your making me strong, oh...")
Told you I loved that song.
Anyway, I won't bore you with more song lyrics, though I could type the whole thing from memory while singing. What'd think of the story?
*shaking head at her own freakiness* cheers, Kellen