Well here is the first crossing between James Bond and LOTR!!! I have spent
ages planning and writing this so now it is finally up I am really excited.
There is one thing though, I know that elves do not smoke and that is
mainly the trait of hobbits, but if I was to make J Gwend smoke it would
give you something to relate to James Bond with. Please also don't take
this story too seriously, after all it is a fantasy.
Anyways, enough of all that, on with the story……
Chapter 1: River Rescue
The leaves bristled in the trees, as the pounding of hooves echoed throughout the forest. The sun had risen high that day and it shone down with all its might upon the mass of green woodland. Its heated rays shone through the canopy of leaves high up in the treetops above the undergrowth on the forest floor. The cloudless sapphire sky sank down along the horizon as it plummeted towards the ground. The Mountains ahead stood mighty and proud over the forest, as mist gathered at its peaks.
All was peaceful and quiet that day, or so it had been, for now the pulsation of hooves grew louder as the horse galloped further towards the great borders of the forest, Mirkwood. The horse was that of a rich grey shade and it seemed to shine brightly like the haze of the moon, as its silvery mane and tail rushed backwards with the wind of its speed.
The horse however, was not roaming free under the eves of the forest. Its rider was tall and slender, and his features and manner showed pride and dignity as he sat up high upon the horses back. The elf, for that was the riders race as he was riding his horse bare back, was clad in vivid green garments of all shades. His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight and his face fearless and fair but ageless, neither old nor young; his eyes were a pale blue, both bright and keen.
The elven rider carefully pulled out a pipe, from of a pocket in his garments, which was carved from wood. Slowly he drew it to his mouth and cautiously lit the ground Athelas that remained inside the pipe. How he did this while mounted on a horse nobody ever knew, but it must have been through practice. As he inhaled the sweet smelling effluvium of the burning Athelas, a relaxing aroma filled the air and his lungs were refreshed by the sent, and health and energy seemed to restore in him.
As he drew the last breath of Athelas, he quickly placed the pipe back into his inner pocket and drew his attentions to the horse, continuing his casual ride about the woods. Not long had he departed from his pipe, when a familiar sound was caught in his sharp elven ears. The elven rider glanced behind him, for that surly was where the sound had come from, and gasped at the sight in which he saw.
A maiden in a fluttering pale blue gown was mounted upon a horse, riding hard through the woods. But this was not for a casual course, for the maidens face was full of grief and also shared a look of apprehension. Amidst the sorrow and concern, she bore a face of beauty and fairness. Her hair flowed behind her in the deep shade of crimson, and her eyes, if the maiden had not been so grieved, would have sparkled a beautiful shade of pale blue.
This mysterious maiden was so determined she was already ahead of our elven rider, and he looked upon her with amazement. So curious he was that he followed her lead, but she never noticed his presence.
The great borders of Mirkwood stood about them as the maiden continued, still in distress and anguish. The fine green open land stretched out about them, it's whispery blades of ever growing grass brushed their knees as the gentle wind blew. And the cool daylight air bristled in their long hair. The sun's shining rays were brighter now, for there was no canopy of rich ever green leaves above them, and the mighty tall trees, which stood tall around them in the forest were no more.
As our elven rider, gazed ahead with wonder at the beauty of the maiden, he could see that she had dismounted her horse and was heading towards the Great River Anduin. Her horse was left, abandoned on the rivers high bank. It stood tall but alone, staring at his mistress as she sped down the bank, longing for her to return. The elf too, stared with astonishment at the sight, but still he stayed mounted on his horse.
He peered ahead with his keen elven eyes, pondering on her actions. The maiden held her arms out, letting the cool breeze blow against her body. Her gown sparkled in the sunlight and waved in the wind, while her hair fluttered behind her back. Her fair face still possessed the same weakness, for it portrayed a young innocence, and many would wonder why she was so grieved inside.
The young maiden gently slid off her delicate shoes, and left them on the riverside. The Great River's current was flowing hard downstream, towards the south, as she slowly stepped into the water. Waves rippled about her body as the maiden walked deeper into the forbidding depth below, but to the surprise of the elven rider she paid no heed to the darkness below her and continued further into the river, her thoughts absorbed by another matter far greater.
The elf watched and stared with concern as to what he was seeing, but now it was too much. Hastily he dismounted his horse and pulled of his grey elven cloak, leaving it to fall on the ground below. He ran down the bank as quickly as he could, the wind racing passed him as he focused his bright keen eyes on the figure in the water.
The sharp cold waters of the Anduin were flowing about her waist now and she was struggling to hold herself upright through it's immense current. The elven rider was now wading through the shallow waters, desperate to reach her. And once more the current almost pulled him away as he reached his hand out to grab the maiden's arm. Her clothes were saturated with icy water as the elf pulled her towards him. Carefully he lifted her out of the water a held her in his arms.
The icy cold waters had numbed his fingers, and all of a sudden a sharp prickling sensation was felt in his legs. But still he persevered, and slowly made his way towards the Eastern Shore, from which he had come from.
Her face was pale and cold to the touch as the elf carefully placed a slender hand on her forehead. His clothes were sodden with water and the ends of his shadowy hair dripped with the water from the river. He lent forward over her and gently tapped her check to wake her, but still she did not move. He's elvish features were filled with worry and concern as he gazed upon her.
She was much taller than he had expected tall even to the standards of elves for she looked, as he studied her, to be at least over seven feet. Also, even though she had the delicate and shapely ears of the elvish race, she seemed to have a Dwarvish sense about her. For some of her features matched that of the race of Dwarves. But then, as he kneeled over her, hope filled his heart as she slowly opened her sparkling eyes which shone a pale blue as they began to look up at the elven rider.
The elf smiled down at her as he was convinced that she was alright by her soft breathing once more, and spoke to her in a cheerful tone, "Good morning, my name is Gwend, J Gwend miss……"
A short silence fell upon them, as the maiden laid her head to one side. And a strange and offensive presence fell upon Gwend as he heard the slight breathing of another being behind him. As much as he wished that this presence he could feel was just his imagination, he was proved right, for at that same time the sharp edge of an object was felt on the side of his neck. J Gwend seemed to stay extremely calm considering the situation as now a small knife was placed by the maiden's face, and slowly she turned her head round so that she could see what was going on, but still remained dead silent.
"Now get up," The deep and uncouth voice of the presence shouted out, "Put your hands behind your head. Move!" Gwend slowly but surely placed his hands behind his head and stood up. To his complete shock and surprise the most unlikely of all characters stood before him, dagger in hand, a dwarf.
The dwarf was stood in front of Gwend, small and stout. His features were dark, for his hair was thick and bushy, and his eyes small but menacing as they gaped up at the tall elf with disgust. His beard, very long and forked, was the deep shade of fiery red, almost the same as the carmine cloth of his garments. He wore a black leather belt, and round his neck hung a chain of gold.
The small stout dwarf still bore a face of anger, as he held the dagger high up in front of him. J Gwend knew that he had to do something, for them to just stand there gazing at one another would be pointless. The elf edged back way from the body of the maiden, and in turn so did the dwarf, who seemed to be watching his every move, except one.
Gwend thoughts were pulled together and an idea sprang to mind, leaving a grin on his fine elvish face. As the dwarf continued to edge forward, he let out a cry of fury, for now the dagger that once was placed in his firm grip was now toppling down the banks of the river. The dwarf looked up at the elf with evil eyes, as J Gwend still possessed the same dubious smile. While the dwarf was so anxious to follow where the elf was going, he did not see as Gwend kicked the blade out of his grip.
The dwarf had had enough fooling around, he wanted a fight. Hastily he ran towards Gwend, no particular plan of strategy apart from to kill the elf. J Gwend, who had been studying the situation carefully, reached a slender hand towards his waist, and quickly pulled out a dagger like that of the dwarfs. The elf had planned to strike the dwarf with his blade as he ran towards him, but alas the dwarf was more cunning than Gwend had expected, for now he had run through the elf's legs and was now behind him.
Annoyed, Gwend was at the dwarf's move, he quickly turned around and lashed his dagger towards the dwarf, but once more the dwarf was crafty, and had already pulled out another blade for himself. The clashing of the blades, as the scrapped against one another, was painful to the ear, and only Gwend could resist such a sound. The dwarf pulled his blade away, for he could not bear the treacherous noise, and then J Gwend took his chance.
Gwend lashed out his blade, as the dwarf was not looking. The stout dwarf let out a cry of agony, as blood purred onto his garments, staining the fine cloth; Gwend had slashed a deep wound into the arm of the dwarf.
While Gwend's opponent was preoccupied with the deep gash on his arm, the elf turned to see if the maiden he had saved was all right, but once more gasped at the sight he saw. The other dwarf had grabbed the maiden and was now dragging her up the riverbank. Fortunately she had not suffered injury, but still she was being taken away by the dwarf. Gwend wished he could help her once again, but now the dwarf he had hit had gathered his strength once more and lashed out at him with revenge.
J Gwend turned to face the dwarf to continue the fierce and forceful encounter.
This exciting and eventful scene continued for quite some time as Gwend and the dwarf tumbled down the high banks of the river, just as the dwarf's blade had done. Both the opponents had no instrument or weapon in witch to fight one another with, so now they resorted to fists.
Water was splashed and sprayed about them as the elf and the dwarf leaped out at one another in the shallows of the river. But the water was could and hard to move about in, and not too long had they set foot in the water had the dwarf lost sense of what he was doing, and began to lash out any where possible in hope that he would hit the elf. This was it. Only one thing was left for Gwend to do, and he would have defeated the dwarf
Gwend grabbed the dwarf by the ruff of his clothes, for the dwarf could not see as the water was so sharp and icy cold, then Gwend forced the dwarf's head beneath the water. The dwarf struggled and splashed about the water, but it was no use, J Gwend's hold was too firm and it would be impossible for him to get up now. After a while of the dwarf being held under water, the struggling ceased, and no movement was coming from the dwarf.
Gwend slowly edged away from the body of the dwarf, which floated motionless about the shallows of the Great River, with the blood of his wound staining the fresh water of the river around the dwarf.
Then another thought hit Gwend, as he remembered the dwarf who had taken the maiden. The elf run high up the banks of the river Anduin, desperate to reach her. As he looked ahead the dwarf with the maiden charged at him, knowing that if the elf had survived a fight with his mate then surly the other dwarf must be dead.
Gwend, surprised at the dwarf's sudden reaction to his appeared before him, grabbed the dwarf as he ran towards him, and with all of his might, flung the dwarf behind him. Gwend then let go of the Dwarf's garments and gazed as he hit the steep slope of the river's bank. The dwarf tumbled down, crying out with his pain, as he fell into the water. The dwarf laid there motionless like his companion, maybe through death or maybe through unconsciousness.
Gwend gazed towards the river at his defeat, breathing heavily with tire and weariness, and he turned towards the maiden. But to his shock the maiden was not lying there like she once had. J Gwend walked over to where she had left her delicate shoes, and carefully held them in his hands, sighing with concern as to where she had gone, but also with relief for she was free again.
But then he heard a noise ahead and hastily he looked before him. The maiden was mounting her beautiful white steed, and with no more than a second of her being there, she was gone.
Gwend gazed after her, with amazement and wonder, "This never happened to the other guy."
Thanks for reading, I really hope that you have enjoyed it! Please review!!!!!!
Anyways, enough of all that, on with the story……
Chapter 1: River Rescue
The leaves bristled in the trees, as the pounding of hooves echoed throughout the forest. The sun had risen high that day and it shone down with all its might upon the mass of green woodland. Its heated rays shone through the canopy of leaves high up in the treetops above the undergrowth on the forest floor. The cloudless sapphire sky sank down along the horizon as it plummeted towards the ground. The Mountains ahead stood mighty and proud over the forest, as mist gathered at its peaks.
All was peaceful and quiet that day, or so it had been, for now the pulsation of hooves grew louder as the horse galloped further towards the great borders of the forest, Mirkwood. The horse was that of a rich grey shade and it seemed to shine brightly like the haze of the moon, as its silvery mane and tail rushed backwards with the wind of its speed.
The horse however, was not roaming free under the eves of the forest. Its rider was tall and slender, and his features and manner showed pride and dignity as he sat up high upon the horses back. The elf, for that was the riders race as he was riding his horse bare back, was clad in vivid green garments of all shades. His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight and his face fearless and fair but ageless, neither old nor young; his eyes were a pale blue, both bright and keen.
The elven rider carefully pulled out a pipe, from of a pocket in his garments, which was carved from wood. Slowly he drew it to his mouth and cautiously lit the ground Athelas that remained inside the pipe. How he did this while mounted on a horse nobody ever knew, but it must have been through practice. As he inhaled the sweet smelling effluvium of the burning Athelas, a relaxing aroma filled the air and his lungs were refreshed by the sent, and health and energy seemed to restore in him.
As he drew the last breath of Athelas, he quickly placed the pipe back into his inner pocket and drew his attentions to the horse, continuing his casual ride about the woods. Not long had he departed from his pipe, when a familiar sound was caught in his sharp elven ears. The elven rider glanced behind him, for that surly was where the sound had come from, and gasped at the sight in which he saw.
A maiden in a fluttering pale blue gown was mounted upon a horse, riding hard through the woods. But this was not for a casual course, for the maidens face was full of grief and also shared a look of apprehension. Amidst the sorrow and concern, she bore a face of beauty and fairness. Her hair flowed behind her in the deep shade of crimson, and her eyes, if the maiden had not been so grieved, would have sparkled a beautiful shade of pale blue.
This mysterious maiden was so determined she was already ahead of our elven rider, and he looked upon her with amazement. So curious he was that he followed her lead, but she never noticed his presence.
The great borders of Mirkwood stood about them as the maiden continued, still in distress and anguish. The fine green open land stretched out about them, it's whispery blades of ever growing grass brushed their knees as the gentle wind blew. And the cool daylight air bristled in their long hair. The sun's shining rays were brighter now, for there was no canopy of rich ever green leaves above them, and the mighty tall trees, which stood tall around them in the forest were no more.
As our elven rider, gazed ahead with wonder at the beauty of the maiden, he could see that she had dismounted her horse and was heading towards the Great River Anduin. Her horse was left, abandoned on the rivers high bank. It stood tall but alone, staring at his mistress as she sped down the bank, longing for her to return. The elf too, stared with astonishment at the sight, but still he stayed mounted on his horse.
He peered ahead with his keen elven eyes, pondering on her actions. The maiden held her arms out, letting the cool breeze blow against her body. Her gown sparkled in the sunlight and waved in the wind, while her hair fluttered behind her back. Her fair face still possessed the same weakness, for it portrayed a young innocence, and many would wonder why she was so grieved inside.
The young maiden gently slid off her delicate shoes, and left them on the riverside. The Great River's current was flowing hard downstream, towards the south, as she slowly stepped into the water. Waves rippled about her body as the maiden walked deeper into the forbidding depth below, but to the surprise of the elven rider she paid no heed to the darkness below her and continued further into the river, her thoughts absorbed by another matter far greater.
The elf watched and stared with concern as to what he was seeing, but now it was too much. Hastily he dismounted his horse and pulled of his grey elven cloak, leaving it to fall on the ground below. He ran down the bank as quickly as he could, the wind racing passed him as he focused his bright keen eyes on the figure in the water.
The sharp cold waters of the Anduin were flowing about her waist now and she was struggling to hold herself upright through it's immense current. The elven rider was now wading through the shallow waters, desperate to reach her. And once more the current almost pulled him away as he reached his hand out to grab the maiden's arm. Her clothes were saturated with icy water as the elf pulled her towards him. Carefully he lifted her out of the water a held her in his arms.
The icy cold waters had numbed his fingers, and all of a sudden a sharp prickling sensation was felt in his legs. But still he persevered, and slowly made his way towards the Eastern Shore, from which he had come from.
Her face was pale and cold to the touch as the elf carefully placed a slender hand on her forehead. His clothes were sodden with water and the ends of his shadowy hair dripped with the water from the river. He lent forward over her and gently tapped her check to wake her, but still she did not move. He's elvish features were filled with worry and concern as he gazed upon her.
She was much taller than he had expected tall even to the standards of elves for she looked, as he studied her, to be at least over seven feet. Also, even though she had the delicate and shapely ears of the elvish race, she seemed to have a Dwarvish sense about her. For some of her features matched that of the race of Dwarves. But then, as he kneeled over her, hope filled his heart as she slowly opened her sparkling eyes which shone a pale blue as they began to look up at the elven rider.
The elf smiled down at her as he was convinced that she was alright by her soft breathing once more, and spoke to her in a cheerful tone, "Good morning, my name is Gwend, J Gwend miss……"
A short silence fell upon them, as the maiden laid her head to one side. And a strange and offensive presence fell upon Gwend as he heard the slight breathing of another being behind him. As much as he wished that this presence he could feel was just his imagination, he was proved right, for at that same time the sharp edge of an object was felt on the side of his neck. J Gwend seemed to stay extremely calm considering the situation as now a small knife was placed by the maiden's face, and slowly she turned her head round so that she could see what was going on, but still remained dead silent.
"Now get up," The deep and uncouth voice of the presence shouted out, "Put your hands behind your head. Move!" Gwend slowly but surely placed his hands behind his head and stood up. To his complete shock and surprise the most unlikely of all characters stood before him, dagger in hand, a dwarf.
The dwarf was stood in front of Gwend, small and stout. His features were dark, for his hair was thick and bushy, and his eyes small but menacing as they gaped up at the tall elf with disgust. His beard, very long and forked, was the deep shade of fiery red, almost the same as the carmine cloth of his garments. He wore a black leather belt, and round his neck hung a chain of gold.
The small stout dwarf still bore a face of anger, as he held the dagger high up in front of him. J Gwend knew that he had to do something, for them to just stand there gazing at one another would be pointless. The elf edged back way from the body of the maiden, and in turn so did the dwarf, who seemed to be watching his every move, except one.
Gwend thoughts were pulled together and an idea sprang to mind, leaving a grin on his fine elvish face. As the dwarf continued to edge forward, he let out a cry of fury, for now the dagger that once was placed in his firm grip was now toppling down the banks of the river. The dwarf looked up at the elf with evil eyes, as J Gwend still possessed the same dubious smile. While the dwarf was so anxious to follow where the elf was going, he did not see as Gwend kicked the blade out of his grip.
The dwarf had had enough fooling around, he wanted a fight. Hastily he ran towards Gwend, no particular plan of strategy apart from to kill the elf. J Gwend, who had been studying the situation carefully, reached a slender hand towards his waist, and quickly pulled out a dagger like that of the dwarfs. The elf had planned to strike the dwarf with his blade as he ran towards him, but alas the dwarf was more cunning than Gwend had expected, for now he had run through the elf's legs and was now behind him.
Annoyed, Gwend was at the dwarf's move, he quickly turned around and lashed his dagger towards the dwarf, but once more the dwarf was crafty, and had already pulled out another blade for himself. The clashing of the blades, as the scrapped against one another, was painful to the ear, and only Gwend could resist such a sound. The dwarf pulled his blade away, for he could not bear the treacherous noise, and then J Gwend took his chance.
Gwend lashed out his blade, as the dwarf was not looking. The stout dwarf let out a cry of agony, as blood purred onto his garments, staining the fine cloth; Gwend had slashed a deep wound into the arm of the dwarf.
While Gwend's opponent was preoccupied with the deep gash on his arm, the elf turned to see if the maiden he had saved was all right, but once more gasped at the sight he saw. The other dwarf had grabbed the maiden and was now dragging her up the riverbank. Fortunately she had not suffered injury, but still she was being taken away by the dwarf. Gwend wished he could help her once again, but now the dwarf he had hit had gathered his strength once more and lashed out at him with revenge.
J Gwend turned to face the dwarf to continue the fierce and forceful encounter.
This exciting and eventful scene continued for quite some time as Gwend and the dwarf tumbled down the high banks of the river, just as the dwarf's blade had done. Both the opponents had no instrument or weapon in witch to fight one another with, so now they resorted to fists.
Water was splashed and sprayed about them as the elf and the dwarf leaped out at one another in the shallows of the river. But the water was could and hard to move about in, and not too long had they set foot in the water had the dwarf lost sense of what he was doing, and began to lash out any where possible in hope that he would hit the elf. This was it. Only one thing was left for Gwend to do, and he would have defeated the dwarf
Gwend grabbed the dwarf by the ruff of his clothes, for the dwarf could not see as the water was so sharp and icy cold, then Gwend forced the dwarf's head beneath the water. The dwarf struggled and splashed about the water, but it was no use, J Gwend's hold was too firm and it would be impossible for him to get up now. After a while of the dwarf being held under water, the struggling ceased, and no movement was coming from the dwarf.
Gwend slowly edged away from the body of the dwarf, which floated motionless about the shallows of the Great River, with the blood of his wound staining the fresh water of the river around the dwarf.
Then another thought hit Gwend, as he remembered the dwarf who had taken the maiden. The elf run high up the banks of the river Anduin, desperate to reach her. As he looked ahead the dwarf with the maiden charged at him, knowing that if the elf had survived a fight with his mate then surly the other dwarf must be dead.
Gwend, surprised at the dwarf's sudden reaction to his appeared before him, grabbed the dwarf as he ran towards him, and with all of his might, flung the dwarf behind him. Gwend then let go of the Dwarf's garments and gazed as he hit the steep slope of the river's bank. The dwarf tumbled down, crying out with his pain, as he fell into the water. The dwarf laid there motionless like his companion, maybe through death or maybe through unconsciousness.
Gwend gazed towards the river at his defeat, breathing heavily with tire and weariness, and he turned towards the maiden. But to his shock the maiden was not lying there like she once had. J Gwend walked over to where she had left her delicate shoes, and carefully held them in his hands, sighing with concern as to where she had gone, but also with relief for she was free again.
But then he heard a noise ahead and hastily he looked before him. The maiden was mounting her beautiful white steed, and with no more than a second of her being there, she was gone.
Gwend gazed after her, with amazement and wonder, "This never happened to the other guy."
Thanks for reading, I really hope that you have enjoyed it! Please review!!!!!!