Return To Bree
Author: Blanton Cirith
Chapter 1~
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, however much i may want to. They are the property of his majesty, JRR Tolkien.
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"Aragorn, wait!" Legolas said as he caught up to his companion. The two were traveling through an area on the outskirts of Bree hunting orcs that had not perished when the War of the Ring had been won. The orcs posed no major threat to them, but needed to be hunted down before they did any deal of damage. There had been reports that small bands of orcs had been seen near the area lately causing mischief.
Aragorn waved his hand at the elf to silence him. "I thought I heard something," Aragorn said quietly.
They both halted and listened intently. There was a small snort about ten meters away, and they could see an orc resting on a log by the creek. Aragorn reached for his sword, but Legolas put his hand on the Ranger's shoulder.
"I have this one," he said with a grin.
Legolas reached back for an arrow from his quiver and strung it to his bow. Bending down on one knee, he aimed slowly and carefully. He raised his chin to measure the distance, and released it with a slight jolt. His arrow soared toward the creature, and penetrated it's foul neck. Black blood trailed down its mail coat before it fell to the ground, dead.
"You will not beat your record at Helm's Deep, but I dare say that was a good shot," Aragorn said, smiling.
"No applause necessary,"Legolas replied sarcastically. Aragorn always relished the elf's smile. It was so pure, so innocent. Soft laughter sounded from the Prince's lips; those lips that Aragorn so wished to caress with his own. But then an image of Arwen appeared in his mind, and he brushed the previous thought of Thranduil's son aside.
Turning around to face Aragorn, Legolas saw two orcs creeping up behind his companion, holding their orc blades high, ready to strike him.
"Aragorn!" Legolas shouted, and reached for another arrow. He strung it, and shot one of the assailants. Aragorn unsheathed Anduril, and turned swiftly. He thrust it into the orc's chest and removed it almost immediately only to sever the fell creature's head with another strike.
Legolas let out a sigh of relief. "What would you do without your sword."
"I like my sword," Aragorn replied with a grin, watching the sun's final rays reflect off the thick silver of Anduril.
There were merry-sounding voices coming from some ways behind them, where trees parted and the town of Bree took over. They both made their way to the forest's threshold and crouched down beneath the shadow of a tall oak. They watched as three middle-aged halflings were stumbling out of The Prancing Pony, bottle in hand.
"I have a grand idea, if I may say so," Aragorn said, and looked over to his companion to find the elf's face only inches from his own. Legolas turned his head and was taken aback by such proximity to the Ranger, but dared not move, the closeness sending a chill of anxiety down his spine. Aragorn could feel the elf's breath on his neck and discovered he rather liked the sensation it gave him. Suddenly coming back to reality, he stood quickly and cursed himself for thinking such things of Legolas; his friend; his close companion. Nothing more.
'What is happening to me?' he thought to himself as he realized Arwen was no longer the only being who stirred his heart. Unwilling to accept such accusations, he lightly shook his head.
"Keep me in suspense no longer," came the soft, enticing voice of the elf below him.
Aragorn looked down at him, apparently having forgotten their conversation, being drowned in his own thoughts. "Hmm?" was the only sound he managed to utter.
"Your idea?" Legolas reminded him with a confused look.
"Oh.." he replied with a light chuckle. "I thought it best if we reside at the Prancing Pony tonight, and tomorrow we take up the hunt once more. I'm sure you haven't eaten for a day and a half, and neither have I."
"Now that is a grand idea," Legolas replied, smiling.
Aragorn couldn't help but melt at the sight of that careless, joyful smile. 'Such innocence...' the Ranger mused. 'How I would enjoy taking that innocence from him.' At this, Aragorn flinched, mentally kicking himself for such a comment. 'Legolas is a good friend. If he knew I harbored such thoughts of him, he would never speak to me again! No, this is unacceptable of me.'
Walking past the first orc they'd slain, Legolas intentionally stepped on him.
"Oh, did I step on your head?" Legolas said, acting surprised. "I'm terribly sorry. You are just so ugly, I thought you were only my imagination."
The two couldn't help but erupt in mirthful laughter, something neither had had the privilege of experiencing since they left Gondor.
Entering the Prancing Pony, Barliman Butterbur immediately saw them, and cleared his throat.
"All hail your King, Strider...er...I mean...what's your name again?" He inquired nervously. After the hobbits had told him upon their return to the Shire that this Strider fellow was indeed the King, Barliman wished to make up for his terrible misjudgment.
"Aragorn," the Ranger told him.
"Son of...?" Barliman questioned again.
"Arathorn."
"Thank you," he whispered, then continued with what he had tried to say before in a louder voice. "Aragorn, son of Arathorn!" There was grating applause mixed with loud cheering. The men thought it a joke and went along with Butturbur's "antics," indulging in the night's merriment.
"What will it be, my liege?" the bartender asked with a light bow, ignoring the other men.
"My usual," he replied.
"So you came here often?" Legolas asked him, curious at the term 'my usual'.
"This is where I used to meet my contacts before my time with the Fellowship," Aragorn said. "Barliman!"
The short and portly man peered over his shoulder at the two companions. Aragorn placed his hand on the Elf's shoulder and faced the bartender. "This is Legolas, a friend of Men. I wish for you to treat him with the same respect as you do toward me."
Butterbur turned around fully, this time holding two rather large mugs of his best ale and laid them to rest in front of the companions. Once having his hands free of the burden, he waved at Legolas. "I'm honored to make your aquaintence, Le....er... forgive me, I'm not well with names."
"Legolas," the elf said kindly, leaning forward so the somewhat old man could better hear him. He smiled out of etiquette, and settled down in a rather old and creaking chair by Aragorn to thankfully consume his ale. The taste was bitter, much bitter than what he was used to, but after a few gulps he found himself enjoying it.
"To friendship," Aragorn said, holding up his glass.
"To friendship," Legolas replied, doing the same.
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Author: Blanton Cirith
Chapter 1~
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, however much i may want to. They are the property of his majesty, JRR Tolkien.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Aragorn, wait!" Legolas said as he caught up to his companion. The two were traveling through an area on the outskirts of Bree hunting orcs that had not perished when the War of the Ring had been won. The orcs posed no major threat to them, but needed to be hunted down before they did any deal of damage. There had been reports that small bands of orcs had been seen near the area lately causing mischief.
Aragorn waved his hand at the elf to silence him. "I thought I heard something," Aragorn said quietly.
They both halted and listened intently. There was a small snort about ten meters away, and they could see an orc resting on a log by the creek. Aragorn reached for his sword, but Legolas put his hand on the Ranger's shoulder.
"I have this one," he said with a grin.
Legolas reached back for an arrow from his quiver and strung it to his bow. Bending down on one knee, he aimed slowly and carefully. He raised his chin to measure the distance, and released it with a slight jolt. His arrow soared toward the creature, and penetrated it's foul neck. Black blood trailed down its mail coat before it fell to the ground, dead.
"You will not beat your record at Helm's Deep, but I dare say that was a good shot," Aragorn said, smiling.
"No applause necessary,"Legolas replied sarcastically. Aragorn always relished the elf's smile. It was so pure, so innocent. Soft laughter sounded from the Prince's lips; those lips that Aragorn so wished to caress with his own. But then an image of Arwen appeared in his mind, and he brushed the previous thought of Thranduil's son aside.
Turning around to face Aragorn, Legolas saw two orcs creeping up behind his companion, holding their orc blades high, ready to strike him.
"Aragorn!" Legolas shouted, and reached for another arrow. He strung it, and shot one of the assailants. Aragorn unsheathed Anduril, and turned swiftly. He thrust it into the orc's chest and removed it almost immediately only to sever the fell creature's head with another strike.
Legolas let out a sigh of relief. "What would you do without your sword."
"I like my sword," Aragorn replied with a grin, watching the sun's final rays reflect off the thick silver of Anduril.
There were merry-sounding voices coming from some ways behind them, where trees parted and the town of Bree took over. They both made their way to the forest's threshold and crouched down beneath the shadow of a tall oak. They watched as three middle-aged halflings were stumbling out of The Prancing Pony, bottle in hand.
"I have a grand idea, if I may say so," Aragorn said, and looked over to his companion to find the elf's face only inches from his own. Legolas turned his head and was taken aback by such proximity to the Ranger, but dared not move, the closeness sending a chill of anxiety down his spine. Aragorn could feel the elf's breath on his neck and discovered he rather liked the sensation it gave him. Suddenly coming back to reality, he stood quickly and cursed himself for thinking such things of Legolas; his friend; his close companion. Nothing more.
'What is happening to me?' he thought to himself as he realized Arwen was no longer the only being who stirred his heart. Unwilling to accept such accusations, he lightly shook his head.
"Keep me in suspense no longer," came the soft, enticing voice of the elf below him.
Aragorn looked down at him, apparently having forgotten their conversation, being drowned in his own thoughts. "Hmm?" was the only sound he managed to utter.
"Your idea?" Legolas reminded him with a confused look.
"Oh.." he replied with a light chuckle. "I thought it best if we reside at the Prancing Pony tonight, and tomorrow we take up the hunt once more. I'm sure you haven't eaten for a day and a half, and neither have I."
"Now that is a grand idea," Legolas replied, smiling.
Aragorn couldn't help but melt at the sight of that careless, joyful smile. 'Such innocence...' the Ranger mused. 'How I would enjoy taking that innocence from him.' At this, Aragorn flinched, mentally kicking himself for such a comment. 'Legolas is a good friend. If he knew I harbored such thoughts of him, he would never speak to me again! No, this is unacceptable of me.'
Walking past the first orc they'd slain, Legolas intentionally stepped on him.
"Oh, did I step on your head?" Legolas said, acting surprised. "I'm terribly sorry. You are just so ugly, I thought you were only my imagination."
The two couldn't help but erupt in mirthful laughter, something neither had had the privilege of experiencing since they left Gondor.
Entering the Prancing Pony, Barliman Butterbur immediately saw them, and cleared his throat.
"All hail your King, Strider...er...I mean...what's your name again?" He inquired nervously. After the hobbits had told him upon their return to the Shire that this Strider fellow was indeed the King, Barliman wished to make up for his terrible misjudgment.
"Aragorn," the Ranger told him.
"Son of...?" Barliman questioned again.
"Arathorn."
"Thank you," he whispered, then continued with what he had tried to say before in a louder voice. "Aragorn, son of Arathorn!" There was grating applause mixed with loud cheering. The men thought it a joke and went along with Butturbur's "antics," indulging in the night's merriment.
"What will it be, my liege?" the bartender asked with a light bow, ignoring the other men.
"My usual," he replied.
"So you came here often?" Legolas asked him, curious at the term 'my usual'.
"This is where I used to meet my contacts before my time with the Fellowship," Aragorn said. "Barliman!"
The short and portly man peered over his shoulder at the two companions. Aragorn placed his hand on the Elf's shoulder and faced the bartender. "This is Legolas, a friend of Men. I wish for you to treat him with the same respect as you do toward me."
Butterbur turned around fully, this time holding two rather large mugs of his best ale and laid them to rest in front of the companions. Once having his hands free of the burden, he waved at Legolas. "I'm honored to make your aquaintence, Le....er... forgive me, I'm not well with names."
"Legolas," the elf said kindly, leaning forward so the somewhat old man could better hear him. He smiled out of etiquette, and settled down in a rather old and creaking chair by Aragorn to thankfully consume his ale. The taste was bitter, much bitter than what he was used to, but after a few gulps he found himself enjoying it.
"To friendship," Aragorn said, holding up his glass.
"To friendship," Legolas replied, doing the same.
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