Middle earth and everything in it belong to Tolkien. Aidan belongs to me. All the Fellowship is in this. This is a long time after the War of the Ring, when everyone is dead and gone.
Exile of the Unforgiven
Some may call me sensitive. I didn't really have an idea on what that means until I got lost into the woods. The moment I entered them, I felt a chill, like of a long ago time that was long since gone, but its memory still remains. I somehow wondered away from my group, and did not realize that I was lost until later. When I did, the sun was setting and I knew it was pointless to continue on in the dark. Stumbling, I came to what had one time looked like a city. The cold seemed to come from it, but I ignored the feeling and went in to look around.
I walked the somber halls quietly. I had thought that I would be spending the night in the forest until I stumbled, literally, upon these old ruins. I had no idea who had built them. But I was glad for a freaking place to stay. This is not the time of year to be lost in a deep dark forest. But it's my fault for wondering off. Hopefully I could find my way back in the morning.
I set about finding a place to sleep in the woods, and while I did, I wondered who could have made such lofty buildings. Even now, in all ruin and hanging from the trees by thin supports, they look grand. I could just imagine how they had been when there were people here, be it whatever people made them, for Man could not have made these.
I found a small building set near a small stream. I washed dirty hands and face in it. I also drank from it, not really caring if it was bad or not. To my surprise, it wasn't, but sweet and cold. A thought entered my mind that it was wrong to touch this stream, so I left it to go to the small building.
I set the provisions that I had with me out. I unrolled my sleeping bag and lay down upon it, since it was a warm not, I did not need to get under the covers. The stars sparkled down upon me, and for a moment, I felt safe, like I had never been before. But it passed and soon I drifted off.
Suddenly I was startled from my sleep by the sound of singing. Sitting up, I looked around to find a faint white/bluish tinged light coming from outside where I slept. Getting up, I walked slowly to the entrance and glanced outside. A gasp escaped my lips as my eyes fell upon the being standing outside.
He could only be described as beautiful, almost so that he was beyond words. His hair was the color of moonbeams that trailed down his slender back. He was clothed in white garments that had silver embroidery into them. His ears were nearly covered by his hair, but I could see the pointed tips poking out. His face was heavenly; his eyes were deep pools of clear blue. But the look upon his face nearly broke my heart. It was sad, heart rending sadness, despairing. And from his mouth I heard the most wonderful song, so amazing that no words could describe it. But it to was also sad, as if he was lost and alone, with no way to save himself from this lonely despair. It was so painfully sad and beautiful that tears streaked down my face, mirroring the tears of light falling from his own heart felt eyes.
He must have heard me, for he turned to me. He did not reach for the bow that hung on his back, or his daggers, but just looked at me.
"Hello, who are thee?" he asked quietly, his voice like water flowing through my soul.
"I think I would rather know who you are first," I said.
He chuckled softly, but the sad look did not leave him.
"That is fair. My name was Legolas, Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood, Kind Thrainduil's son," he said and bowed slightly, "Now, who might you be?"
"My name is Aidan. What do you mean by was and what is this place?" I asked.
"This was once Lothlorien, one of the greatest cities of elves. What I meant when I said was, though I am still Legolas, I am no longer living," he said.
Exile of the Unforgiven
Some may call me sensitive. I didn't really have an idea on what that means until I got lost into the woods. The moment I entered them, I felt a chill, like of a long ago time that was long since gone, but its memory still remains. I somehow wondered away from my group, and did not realize that I was lost until later. When I did, the sun was setting and I knew it was pointless to continue on in the dark. Stumbling, I came to what had one time looked like a city. The cold seemed to come from it, but I ignored the feeling and went in to look around.
I walked the somber halls quietly. I had thought that I would be spending the night in the forest until I stumbled, literally, upon these old ruins. I had no idea who had built them. But I was glad for a freaking place to stay. This is not the time of year to be lost in a deep dark forest. But it's my fault for wondering off. Hopefully I could find my way back in the morning.
I set about finding a place to sleep in the woods, and while I did, I wondered who could have made such lofty buildings. Even now, in all ruin and hanging from the trees by thin supports, they look grand. I could just imagine how they had been when there were people here, be it whatever people made them, for Man could not have made these.
I found a small building set near a small stream. I washed dirty hands and face in it. I also drank from it, not really caring if it was bad or not. To my surprise, it wasn't, but sweet and cold. A thought entered my mind that it was wrong to touch this stream, so I left it to go to the small building.
I set the provisions that I had with me out. I unrolled my sleeping bag and lay down upon it, since it was a warm not, I did not need to get under the covers. The stars sparkled down upon me, and for a moment, I felt safe, like I had never been before. But it passed and soon I drifted off.
Suddenly I was startled from my sleep by the sound of singing. Sitting up, I looked around to find a faint white/bluish tinged light coming from outside where I slept. Getting up, I walked slowly to the entrance and glanced outside. A gasp escaped my lips as my eyes fell upon the being standing outside.
He could only be described as beautiful, almost so that he was beyond words. His hair was the color of moonbeams that trailed down his slender back. He was clothed in white garments that had silver embroidery into them. His ears were nearly covered by his hair, but I could see the pointed tips poking out. His face was heavenly; his eyes were deep pools of clear blue. But the look upon his face nearly broke my heart. It was sad, heart rending sadness, despairing. And from his mouth I heard the most wonderful song, so amazing that no words could describe it. But it to was also sad, as if he was lost and alone, with no way to save himself from this lonely despair. It was so painfully sad and beautiful that tears streaked down my face, mirroring the tears of light falling from his own heart felt eyes.
He must have heard me, for he turned to me. He did not reach for the bow that hung on his back, or his daggers, but just looked at me.
"Hello, who are thee?" he asked quietly, his voice like water flowing through my soul.
"I think I would rather know who you are first," I said.
He chuckled softly, but the sad look did not leave him.
"That is fair. My name was Legolas, Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood, Kind Thrainduil's son," he said and bowed slightly, "Now, who might you be?"
"My name is Aidan. What do you mean by was and what is this place?" I asked.
"This was once Lothlorien, one of the greatest cities of elves. What I meant when I said was, though I am still Legolas, I am no longer living," he said.