Thank you to those of you who have reviewed this already. I know that it
is a little slow starting, but I need to set things up. When I wrote the
first story I really didn't think much more about Egla Ash. Your response
to him was unexpected. So I am trying to get back into my Orc-Elf mode.
This will be posted in sections since it is not nearly all written yet (or
even all in my head) though I do know the general direction that it will be
heading. Elenath sila erin le. (Star shine on you.)
The game of Tag in this section originated from a similar game of Tag that one of my friends and I had that lasted for such a long time. I hadn't really thought about it in ages, but then it just popped up so I decided to use it. *Sorry, Egla Ash doesn't appear in this chapter, but he will be in the next one.
Whisper of Things to Come Chapter 1
He ran lightly through the towering trees, his feet leaving no signs of his passing on the spill of dead leaves and fallen needles. Birdsong filled the air and the scent of flowers and healthy new growth carried on the light breeze. Deer that were grazing in a nearby clearing, lifted their graceful heads and twitched long velvety ears, but showed no fear at his passage. He glanced back over his shoulder, and then laughed.
"Hurry up, Brethil! This is your last chance today!"
From somewhere far behind him he heard a muffled voice, much too far for this game to be any fun.
"I am here, Brethil." He called, running and leaping easily into the awaiting branches of a nearby tree. "Maer aur, Toss." [Good morning, Maple.] He murmured, stroking its bark as he crouched in its new unfolding green leaves. He sat quite still, humming under his breath. Soon he saw his companion emerge from between the still trees several yards to his left
Brethil lifted his beautiful Elven face, but it was marred by a fierce scowl.
"This is not fair, Legolas." He called, brushing a strand of golden hair from his grey eyes. "Why must I always be "It" for days on end?" He muttered, eyes scanning the forest paths.
This particular game of Tag had taken on a life of its own many months before. After Legolas' return from his imprisonment beneath Emyn Mor Esgal, Brethil and Tavor had decided to find a way to cheer their friend. Brethil had come up behind him one day and gently tapped him on his arm.
"You're "It"!" He announced, and sprinted off laughing.
Soon the three were leading each other on a merry chase, and driving all others insane with their antics. Soon the rule became that you could only get tagged once a day and no re-tagging. But even that became distracting to anyone not involved. Often as a family would sit down to eat, a grinning face would appear in the window and with a quick tap and a "You're "It" vanish into the night. It was especially irritating on hunting forays.
The rules were still writing themselves, but one held true. If one was to race to Beleg Doron the Great Oak and touch it before being tagged then they were considered untouchable the rest of the day.
Brethil, who was less fleet footed than his other two comrades was usually "It" and the evening before he had finally managed to come upon Tavor unawares. But unfortunately for Brethil, Tavor had laid in wait for him that morning and tagged him. That left Legolas. But the prince, being well aware of his predicament had lead Brethil on a wild chase through Mirkwood, working his way to Beleg Doron.
Brethil was beginning to despair. Why had they ever continued this foolish, child's game so long? It had been great fun in the beginning, but was merely tiresome now.
Legolas smiled and reached into a pocket withdrawing a stone nearly the size of his hand. He tossed it into the air and caught it, then lobbed it into the trees opposite. Hearing the noise Brethil gave a cry of relief and headed into the woods again, away from Legolas.
The prince smothered a laugh and dropped silently to the ground and moved down the path.
"I am here, Brethil. What are you doing? Chasing stones?"
Brethil halted, eyes widening, then narrowing again as he realized his mistake.
"Chasing stones? Oh, not again!" Too many times he had fallen prey to that simple ruse. He spun about, hurrying back to the path. Legolas stood several yards behind him, the ground sloped gently upward, the trees receding: the hill of Beleg Doron.
"You must be part Dwarf, Brethil." Legolas chortled. "You're much too slow to be an Elf."
Brethil's fair face reddened. Part Dwarf?! He knew that he could not catch Legolas, but his pride was too wounded not to at least make the attempt. He lunged forward with a growl.
Legolas shook his head, sunlight dancing over his pale hair.
"Very well. Let it be a race to the top." He waited until Brethil was nearly upon him before he turned, jogging up the incline, jesting and laughing. H turned back to grin at his friend, but this proved his undoing. He tripped over a root hidden in the grasses and fell rather ungracefully to his face. A grunt of surprise burst from his lips and before he knew what had befallen him, he felt a tap, none to gentle, on his back.
"You're "It", Legolas. You're "It"!" Brethil's voice was full of merriment and wonder at his luck. He danced toward the giant oak tree singing. He continued to dance about the tree, telling it of his grand victory.
"It wasn't that spectacular." Legolas said dryly, easing to his knees and brushing dirt from his moss green tunic.
Brethil laughed happily.
"You should have seen your face, Legolas. I have never seen you look so surprised."
The prince passed a slim hand through his hair, dislodging pieces of grass and small flowers.
"Well…As long as you're happy."
"If only Tavor had been here to see this. He'll never believe me. Prince Legolas Greenleaf falling on his face."
Legolas stood, brushing at the knees of his leggings. He sighed. Brethil could be so childish at times. He lifted his eyes skyward, thinking that it was time for this silly game to end forever. Hanging amidst the spreading branches of the tree was a small pouch tied with a piece of leather. He smiled.
"Hold, Brethil." He leaped into the tree and retrieved the paper. Straddling the wide branch, feet dangling below him, he hastily upended the pouch. A small piece of parchment fell into his hands. He unrolled it quickly.
"It's from Egla Ash!" He exclaimed, his blue eyes eagerly scanning the letter's contents.
Brethil straightened, his face darkening. He knew that the Orc had saved Legolas' life the year before, but he could not understand the friendship that developed. An Orc! Of all the vile, evil creatures for Legolas to befriend.
"What…What does he say, Legolas?" He managed to ask, trying to keep the disgust he felt from his voice. His cool grey eyes scanned the trees at the bottom of the hill. His fingers itched to reach for his bow and an arrow. He forced them to stillness.
"He is well. He has written another song." Legolas called down to him. "It is about the dawn." He smiled, reading the crudely formed Tengwar letters. "His writing is improving as well. He is truly a wonder, Brethil."
The other Elf merely grunted in reply. He liked not the fact that an Orc made his home here, somewhere nearby. And after what had befallen Legolas at the hands of the vile beings, he couldn't understand his friend's liking for the beast. The Elf prince spent far too much time in its company, singing with it, teaching it to read and write, speaking with it as though they had been the best of friends for years.
"Let us go, Legolas." He called. "I want to tell everyone of my victory." Though now his victory seemed not as joyous.
"Just a moment, Brethil." Legolas dropped to the ground. He trotted down the hill to the west. He and Egla Ash had made a small hollow in the ground, beneath an exposed tree root. Inside a water- proofed pouch was a store of parchment, ink, and quills. He quickly took a piece of the heavy cream- colored paper, and hastily wrote a short message.
Im ath govad mae is sen aduial. Valmet tir i elenath eria.
[I will meet you here this evening. We will watch the stars rise.]
He carefully corked the ink and dried the quill before replacing them. He rolled the parchment, placed it in the pouch, and tied it with the same length of leather. He moved up the hill smiling.
"I am nearly done, Brethil. Soon we can go and you may embarrass me all you wish." He sprang into the oak and deftly secured his response, then landed quietly at Brethil's side once more. "Shall we go? I'd offer to race you, but I'd probably fall on my face again." He smiled at Brethil, but the other merely turned away, his face troubled. "What is it, Brethil? You're mood was so light earlier. Come. Tell me what troubles you."
But Brethil answered him not, his eyes traveling upward to where the pouch hung above his head.
Legolas' eyes followed his, his own spirit dampening.
"He is my friend, Brethil. I will not abandon him any more than I would you."
"It is not right, Legolas, for you – or any Elf – to have such a friend." He snarled the last word, turning his eyes away.
Mirkwood's prince stood silently, his gaze going northwest. Beyond the trees, beyond his sight, lay the dark hills that still haunted his dreams. So what if Egla Ash was an Orc? He had befriended Legolas in his time of greatest need and Legolas would always be grateful for what he had done. He knew how everyone looked down on him for his continuing attachment to the Orc. But one did not abandon their friends merely because others disapproved. What sort of friend would he be if he told Egla Ash to leave Mirkwood, where the Orc was so happy, his soul, so different from his own kind, expanding and growing? His father had bid him do so, but thus far the prince had disregarded this, risking his father's ire.
As if sensing his thoughts Brethil said softly,
"You're father would not be pleased if he knew."
"My father does not know. Nor will I tell him. Nor will you. Please, Brethil. If you are my friend then be silent."
Grey eyes clashed with blue ones. Finally Brethil sighed and dropped his gaze, shrugging slightly.
"Very well. I will not speak of this. But…" He glanced up hesitantly. "You may not…tag me for three days."
Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but then smiled and warmly clasped the other's arm.
"Very well. Three days. But then you had best be on your guard."
Brethil laughed slightly, trying to shake off his dark mood.
"Perhaps we should race back. Maybe there will be more tree roots in your future."
The two started off. Legolas gladly let Brethil win, but only by a few feet. Sometimes the price of silence was easily bought.
The game of Tag in this section originated from a similar game of Tag that one of my friends and I had that lasted for such a long time. I hadn't really thought about it in ages, but then it just popped up so I decided to use it. *Sorry, Egla Ash doesn't appear in this chapter, but he will be in the next one.
Whisper of Things to Come Chapter 1
He ran lightly through the towering trees, his feet leaving no signs of his passing on the spill of dead leaves and fallen needles. Birdsong filled the air and the scent of flowers and healthy new growth carried on the light breeze. Deer that were grazing in a nearby clearing, lifted their graceful heads and twitched long velvety ears, but showed no fear at his passage. He glanced back over his shoulder, and then laughed.
"Hurry up, Brethil! This is your last chance today!"
From somewhere far behind him he heard a muffled voice, much too far for this game to be any fun.
"I am here, Brethil." He called, running and leaping easily into the awaiting branches of a nearby tree. "Maer aur, Toss." [Good morning, Maple.] He murmured, stroking its bark as he crouched in its new unfolding green leaves. He sat quite still, humming under his breath. Soon he saw his companion emerge from between the still trees several yards to his left
Brethil lifted his beautiful Elven face, but it was marred by a fierce scowl.
"This is not fair, Legolas." He called, brushing a strand of golden hair from his grey eyes. "Why must I always be "It" for days on end?" He muttered, eyes scanning the forest paths.
This particular game of Tag had taken on a life of its own many months before. After Legolas' return from his imprisonment beneath Emyn Mor Esgal, Brethil and Tavor had decided to find a way to cheer their friend. Brethil had come up behind him one day and gently tapped him on his arm.
"You're "It"!" He announced, and sprinted off laughing.
Soon the three were leading each other on a merry chase, and driving all others insane with their antics. Soon the rule became that you could only get tagged once a day and no re-tagging. But even that became distracting to anyone not involved. Often as a family would sit down to eat, a grinning face would appear in the window and with a quick tap and a "You're "It" vanish into the night. It was especially irritating on hunting forays.
The rules were still writing themselves, but one held true. If one was to race to Beleg Doron the Great Oak and touch it before being tagged then they were considered untouchable the rest of the day.
Brethil, who was less fleet footed than his other two comrades was usually "It" and the evening before he had finally managed to come upon Tavor unawares. But unfortunately for Brethil, Tavor had laid in wait for him that morning and tagged him. That left Legolas. But the prince, being well aware of his predicament had lead Brethil on a wild chase through Mirkwood, working his way to Beleg Doron.
Brethil was beginning to despair. Why had they ever continued this foolish, child's game so long? It had been great fun in the beginning, but was merely tiresome now.
Legolas smiled and reached into a pocket withdrawing a stone nearly the size of his hand. He tossed it into the air and caught it, then lobbed it into the trees opposite. Hearing the noise Brethil gave a cry of relief and headed into the woods again, away from Legolas.
The prince smothered a laugh and dropped silently to the ground and moved down the path.
"I am here, Brethil. What are you doing? Chasing stones?"
Brethil halted, eyes widening, then narrowing again as he realized his mistake.
"Chasing stones? Oh, not again!" Too many times he had fallen prey to that simple ruse. He spun about, hurrying back to the path. Legolas stood several yards behind him, the ground sloped gently upward, the trees receding: the hill of Beleg Doron.
"You must be part Dwarf, Brethil." Legolas chortled. "You're much too slow to be an Elf."
Brethil's fair face reddened. Part Dwarf?! He knew that he could not catch Legolas, but his pride was too wounded not to at least make the attempt. He lunged forward with a growl.
Legolas shook his head, sunlight dancing over his pale hair.
"Very well. Let it be a race to the top." He waited until Brethil was nearly upon him before he turned, jogging up the incline, jesting and laughing. H turned back to grin at his friend, but this proved his undoing. He tripped over a root hidden in the grasses and fell rather ungracefully to his face. A grunt of surprise burst from his lips and before he knew what had befallen him, he felt a tap, none to gentle, on his back.
"You're "It", Legolas. You're "It"!" Brethil's voice was full of merriment and wonder at his luck. He danced toward the giant oak tree singing. He continued to dance about the tree, telling it of his grand victory.
"It wasn't that spectacular." Legolas said dryly, easing to his knees and brushing dirt from his moss green tunic.
Brethil laughed happily.
"You should have seen your face, Legolas. I have never seen you look so surprised."
The prince passed a slim hand through his hair, dislodging pieces of grass and small flowers.
"Well…As long as you're happy."
"If only Tavor had been here to see this. He'll never believe me. Prince Legolas Greenleaf falling on his face."
Legolas stood, brushing at the knees of his leggings. He sighed. Brethil could be so childish at times. He lifted his eyes skyward, thinking that it was time for this silly game to end forever. Hanging amidst the spreading branches of the tree was a small pouch tied with a piece of leather. He smiled.
"Hold, Brethil." He leaped into the tree and retrieved the paper. Straddling the wide branch, feet dangling below him, he hastily upended the pouch. A small piece of parchment fell into his hands. He unrolled it quickly.
"It's from Egla Ash!" He exclaimed, his blue eyes eagerly scanning the letter's contents.
Brethil straightened, his face darkening. He knew that the Orc had saved Legolas' life the year before, but he could not understand the friendship that developed. An Orc! Of all the vile, evil creatures for Legolas to befriend.
"What…What does he say, Legolas?" He managed to ask, trying to keep the disgust he felt from his voice. His cool grey eyes scanned the trees at the bottom of the hill. His fingers itched to reach for his bow and an arrow. He forced them to stillness.
"He is well. He has written another song." Legolas called down to him. "It is about the dawn." He smiled, reading the crudely formed Tengwar letters. "His writing is improving as well. He is truly a wonder, Brethil."
The other Elf merely grunted in reply. He liked not the fact that an Orc made his home here, somewhere nearby. And after what had befallen Legolas at the hands of the vile beings, he couldn't understand his friend's liking for the beast. The Elf prince spent far too much time in its company, singing with it, teaching it to read and write, speaking with it as though they had been the best of friends for years.
"Let us go, Legolas." He called. "I want to tell everyone of my victory." Though now his victory seemed not as joyous.
"Just a moment, Brethil." Legolas dropped to the ground. He trotted down the hill to the west. He and Egla Ash had made a small hollow in the ground, beneath an exposed tree root. Inside a water- proofed pouch was a store of parchment, ink, and quills. He quickly took a piece of the heavy cream- colored paper, and hastily wrote a short message.
Im ath govad mae is sen aduial. Valmet tir i elenath eria.
[I will meet you here this evening. We will watch the stars rise.]
He carefully corked the ink and dried the quill before replacing them. He rolled the parchment, placed it in the pouch, and tied it with the same length of leather. He moved up the hill smiling.
"I am nearly done, Brethil. Soon we can go and you may embarrass me all you wish." He sprang into the oak and deftly secured his response, then landed quietly at Brethil's side once more. "Shall we go? I'd offer to race you, but I'd probably fall on my face again." He smiled at Brethil, but the other merely turned away, his face troubled. "What is it, Brethil? You're mood was so light earlier. Come. Tell me what troubles you."
But Brethil answered him not, his eyes traveling upward to where the pouch hung above his head.
Legolas' eyes followed his, his own spirit dampening.
"He is my friend, Brethil. I will not abandon him any more than I would you."
"It is not right, Legolas, for you – or any Elf – to have such a friend." He snarled the last word, turning his eyes away.
Mirkwood's prince stood silently, his gaze going northwest. Beyond the trees, beyond his sight, lay the dark hills that still haunted his dreams. So what if Egla Ash was an Orc? He had befriended Legolas in his time of greatest need and Legolas would always be grateful for what he had done. He knew how everyone looked down on him for his continuing attachment to the Orc. But one did not abandon their friends merely because others disapproved. What sort of friend would he be if he told Egla Ash to leave Mirkwood, where the Orc was so happy, his soul, so different from his own kind, expanding and growing? His father had bid him do so, but thus far the prince had disregarded this, risking his father's ire.
As if sensing his thoughts Brethil said softly,
"You're father would not be pleased if he knew."
"My father does not know. Nor will I tell him. Nor will you. Please, Brethil. If you are my friend then be silent."
Grey eyes clashed with blue ones. Finally Brethil sighed and dropped his gaze, shrugging slightly.
"Very well. I will not speak of this. But…" He glanced up hesitantly. "You may not…tag me for three days."
Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but then smiled and warmly clasped the other's arm.
"Very well. Three days. But then you had best be on your guard."
Brethil laughed slightly, trying to shake off his dark mood.
"Perhaps we should race back. Maybe there will be more tree roots in your future."
The two started off. Legolas gladly let Brethil win, but only by a few feet. Sometimes the price of silence was easily bought.