Chapter One: New Earth
Disclaimer and Author's note located at the bottom of the page.
"All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king."
"Words well met, Lady Galadriel."
"And ones that have come to pass." The Elf-queen replied.
"Then why do I sense this counsel was not called for idle chatter?" Gandalf asked.
"Because much has come to pass and little has yet to be accomplished."
"Do you dare to imply..."
"I imply nothing, Gandalf. I know."
"The One Ring was destroyed!" The wizard cried.
"Yes. But the evil present within it still exists and the fiery eye of Sauron still peers from the Darkness." She replied.
"This cannot be!" He cried.
"And yet it is, Gandalf the White."
"Then we must act swiftly lest Middle Earth fall into darkness once again."
"No, Gandalf. For this is not a task for Hobbits and Shire-folk. I sense a new hero will rise in our darkest hour."
"And would you risk all of Middle-Earth, your people included, to await this vague prophecy?" The wizard demanded.
"I would for this is not a faded image within my mind's eye but a clear and vivid tapestry of what will happen if we do not wait."
"Then tell me, Lady Galadriel, who is the unlikely man?"
"Not a man, Gandalf, but a woman. And she will bear more power over our intertwined destinies that I can foresee. I ride to seek the counsel of Elrond of Rivendell."
"And I ride with you."
Elrond stood out, looking over Rivendell with his solemn, keen gray eyes, his ebony hair framing his face and held back by a circlet of silver wrought in many twisting and complicated designs that resembled the leaves and flowers of the surrounding forest.
Long had a shadow been cast across his inner eye and for many nights, no visions came to him. And thus had he grown unsettled and been compelled to send riders to the four corners of Middle Earth in search of information. But even Elves, swift and light as they were, required many days to return from their assignments.
"Father, Mani naa ta?" (1)
"Arwen, Mankoi naa lle sinome?" (2)
"I missed you." She replied, reverting to the common tongue of Men and Dwarves and Elves alike.
"And I have missed you, my daughter." He replied, his slender hand gently pushing aside her dark hair so he could better glimpse her face.
Her lovely features pulled up with her coy smile.
"What troubles you, Father?" She asked.
"Nothing of concern, daughter."
"If it was not of concern, it would not trouble you." She replied, taking her father's hand in her own.
"Mae Govannen." (3)
"My thoughts have been troubled by dark visions of late." She continued, her gray eyes meeting the floor.
"That is true for many of our kind. And what ill-omen haunts you?" He asked.
"Of fire and brimstone and of the clash of swords and the wail of the wound and of thin, lethal voices dripping with malice from beneath a veil of black clothe and the strike of cloven feet on the hardened ground..."
"It is as I feared..."
Arwen's eyes met his in a silent question.
"The will of the Ring lives yet...and how I cannot contrive..."
"Swiftly, my Melloneamin!" (4)
"Legolas, gurth gothrim lye!" (5)
The Prince turned to his companion, clapping him on the shoulder and smiling warmly. And then they turned in time, notching their arrows and their bows sang together a fraction of a second later, the gurgling of fallen Orcs replacing their foul battle cries.
"Are there more?" Legolas demanded to his comrades in the tree tops.
"None that our Elf-eyes can detect." Came the reply.
Satisfied, the Prince motioned for his company to follow him back into Mirkwood.
Her eyes fluttered open and the golden shimmer of autumn leaves filled her eyes as the musky scent of the forest filled her nostrils. Dizzyingly, the colors swam before her eyes in a blur of crimson, gold, and earthy brown. The crinkle of dried leaves beneath her body filled her ears.
The vague and distant smell of running water came next to her senses, bringing substance to her confused world.
'Where am I...?'
Galadriel's horse reared suddenly beneath her, but the Elf-queen kept her balance easily, gently coaxing her mare back into serenity with a temperate stroke of her white mane.
"She's here..."
"Where?" Gandalf asked.
"Far from here and over many leagues." She replied breathlessly.
"Then forward, to the House of Elrond." Gandalf cried, spurring Shadowfax onward.
Legolas' foot fell was silent and swift, his figure concealed within the shadows of the deep Mirkwood trees. His companions having returned to their dwellings, he continued to pursue the last lonely Orcs.
But suddenly a new sensation pervaded his Elven senses. Pure and gentle of nature, it immediately deferred his attention from the hunt.
It was obviously an innocent energy, perhaps even helpless in the mists of Mirkwood.
Duty bound he was to find and protect it, if that were the case.
Swift like flowing water, he sprinted into the forest.
The stench of rotting meat and decaying flesh filled her nostrils and she instinctively turned her head, seeking to escape it.
A cold, clawed hand clamped down on her arm and thin, lethal hiss filled her ears. She forced her eyes open and met the hideous gaze of a charred, bent creature, barring its fangs hungrily at her as it raised its curved sword.
"Tender, I see..." It hissed, drawing its sticky, slimy tongue across her pale cheek.
She twisted away weakly, lacking the energy to fight it back.
The monstrosity lifted its dagger and prepared to drop its hand, driving the cold steel into her heart.
"If you value your life, Orc, you will drop your weapon."
Her eyes caught the glint of silver as a dagger's edge slipped between its jaw line and its blackened neck. It hissed, fangs showing through its sickly thin and pallid green lips.
"Elf..."
It spun suddenly, attempting to plunge its curve blade into the prince's chest. But Orcs were slow and the Elf easily levered the foul creature's arm away before drawing his blade across its neck.
Putrid black blood spilled from the gash, spattering him and the ground at his feet. Kicking away the body, he knelt beside the fallen woman.
Fortune smiled on her, he realized, for she had escaped unharmed, if not shaken.
Tenderly cradling her cheek in his hand, he drew her head towards him, his eyes meeting her's.
She moaned slightly, the sound escaping from her parted lips as her eyes fluttered open, jade meeting gentle gray.
"Fair maiden, what business have you in Mirkwood after night? Certainly dire to risk such a journey." He stated.
She replied in a language he could neither understand nor recognize, no matter how vaguely.
And on the wind rose a new scent like darkness itself; a stench of decay both old and new and of a nameless force that whispered evils in the night. Cold and full of an ill-omen, it slinked along the ancient trees.
He dared not speak the name of the malevolence now stalking them.
His lips parted, a lyrical whistle fleeing from his Elf-mouth. Haunting and beautiful, it rose above the darkening chill.
A moment later the clop of cloven feet filled the forest, stone struck by hoof. From the blackness emerged a shadowy figure, the moon casting a white halo around its lean body. Steadily, it pranced towards its Elven master, a gentle exhalation falling against the prince's skin.
"My friend, long have I trusted you to carry me. Now I ask you bear my burdens once again."
There came the silent answer only his Elf-ears could detect.
"Always."
Legolas smiled, lifting the girl into his arms and mounting Arod once more. His legs clamped painlessly against the stallion's side, his hands finding substance on the magnificent creature's sinewy neck. Between his deceptively slender arms rested the unconscious woman. Drawing his cloak around her, he bent forward, whispering into the horse's ear. A moment later, Arod sprinted forward, leaving the clearing behind him.
"Bear her to Lord Elrond no matter my fate." He added as his keen eyes detected movement in the black void of the Mirkwood shadows.
A thin and lethal hiss filled the forests behind him and the clop of hooves followed.
"We will have her."
A chorus of vicious whispers followed in agreement as the ebony steeds were compelled forward.
Aragorn strode through the forests easily, knowing the terrain well. In his hand rested the reins of Roheryn, his dusky gray stallion. Many adventures and battles the horse had seen him through, and appropriately, he accompanied him often.
He often called upon Mirkwood to counsel with Legolas. But today he couldn't seem to find him---though he had never been elusive before.
Roheryn suddenly reared, tugging the reins from his hands. But the stallion did not run...Forcing its nose against the Ranger's back, it pushed him forward.
The 'Strider' turned his head towards the black horizon, his eyes barely able to trace the path of fleeing horse, bearing perhaps two riders and an inkling of movement in the shadows behind him.
'Nazgul...'
Aragorn didn't ponder the impossibility as he spun, swinging his leg over Roheryn and taking the reins in his hands. With a gentle kick, he urged the horse into a full sprint.
The trees flew by in a rush of muted brown and black, the dense brush thinning as the edges of Mirkwood became more prominent. The underbrush snapped under the horse's weight as, with a final, powerful leap, it flew into the flatlands around the forest.
Galloping sidelong, Aragorn bent low against his stallion, drawing from his garments a thin and sharp dagger.
"Legolas!" He cried, the prince's features becoming more apparent in the pale moonlight.
The Elf's smile was ghostly, their dire situation weighting heavily even upon such a fortunate meeting. Pursued as they were, it was unlikely that even the two of them could defeat all Nine.
Aragorn pulled up beside him, catching a glimpse of the woman in his arms. But his questions would have to be stalled for the moment.
"We make for the river." He cried, pulling left.
Behind him, Legolas repeated the maneuver, coming up along him.
Behind them, the horizon began to lighten with the coming dawn.
TBC
Author's Note: I realize that this cross-genre is not everyone's type of fanfiction. But for the longest time of had this idea that the two are highly compatible. Finally, I couldn't stand it and simply sat down and started writing. I hope that it appeals to at least a handful of my faithful readers and maybe even some new ones. Before diving in, I ask only that you put aside the different styles of each-one animated, one life-action. Part of the beauty of fanfiction is the freedom to go where we will with whatever ideas might spring to mind. Thank you to all. Please read and review!
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or LotR
Elven Translations
1) "What troubles you?"
2) "What draws you here?"
3) "Well met."
4) "Swiftly, my friends!"
5) "Legolas, death to our enemies!"