Story Title: The Thoughts of the Royalty (subject to change when I can
think of something better)
Chapter Title: Reaffirmed HOPE (not hop *sorry*)
Author: Faline
Rating: PG- this doesn't mean it's not worth reading! GIVE THE STORY A CHANCE MAN!
Summary: Legolas and Aragorn both think upon Gandalf's 'death' on the way to and in Lothlorien. Who loses hope, and who gains a new perspective? Well, read and find out!
DISCLAIMER: DESPITE ALL MY PRAYERS AND HOPES, I DO NOT OWN ANYONE IN THIS STORY! TOLKIEN IS A GENIUS, AND HIS WORK SHALL NOT BE FALSIFIED UNDER A NAME AS UNWORTHY AS MY OWN! Lol. LONG LIVE THE ELF!
For those who gave a response before, sorry about the smudged title, and the misspellings of Gandalf and Moria. Thanks for your comments though.
This story is about Hope, and how one can lose hope when the situation is dire. How will the two royal members of the fellowship look back and to the future when the going is rough and the road is perilous?
Reaffirmed Hope (1 of ?)
All hope is lost now. The innocence is gone, forever to be forgotten. It pains me to look upon the faces of my men and even hope that we can finish our mission. The king I am, true. Yet, the leader I was not, am not. How can I lead this group of only seven when I cannot claim a kingdom that is rightfully mine? It pains me to think of my love. I don't believe I will ever see her again.
As I look to those familiar faces, their eyes covered in a film of tears and sorrow, and I know that it is I who have failed. I who has not protected every member like a good king should. "Move them out Legolas. We move now." My voice is not my own. It is a voice of the past. Yet, no one besides me seems to notice. They cry for Gandalf.
"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir is the one to speak. I understand and accept this from my fellow man. Yet, I cannot sway. Not for a moment. The elf is too stunned to speak as he gives me a sorrowful look then looks away. I cannot look upon his face at this moment. "These plains will be covered by orcs by nightfall. We must make it to the forest of Lothlorien." I speak the truth. I have failed, but I will stay my course, and I won't let Frodo down again.
My mind is pushed to the hobbit and I search for him with my eyes. He has stepped away, and the ring's power is not felt as strongly from this distance. Yet, I yearn for the feel of that ring close to me. Yearn for it like a child yearns for comfort from its mother. It's a strange sort of love, and I need it like water. "Frodo?" He turns and I see a single tear for Gandalf run down his cheek. In all my lust for the ring and for power, I must not, cannot, forget who is separating that object and myself. I must remember Frodo in my thoughts, and never betray him, for he is the one who holds my sword.
~!~!~!~!~!~
It is night in Lothlorien. I dream of my home, in Mirkwood. How different the trees are from my father's kingdom. They fairly shine with an inner light and are silver, like the moon. Not at all like the rich, brown color that the trunks bear and the vivid green of the leaves, sparkling with the morning dew. I am many miles from home, yet I still remember all the years I have spent a far and still dreamed of my land, of my people.
Being an oddity among your people is something that was a gift of sorts. The females were drawn to me and my cursed blond hair and I could not step away from my dwelling without a bow or bent knee because my hair is so different. So unlike the dark, shining brown hair of the others of my kind. The rest of the Sylvan elves are a different breed almost.
The wind changes and my dreams are torn to pieces as a figure of shimmering white passes by my bedroll. Blinking, I raise my head. Galadriel is leading Frodo to the looking well.
She confessed to me, on a quiet overlook, her fear of the future. The conversation was quiet and she spoke of going into the West, to join the others. And of the ring that Frodo carried in his vest pocket. She heard the ring's call while we were still miles away, emerging from the walls of Moria. It called to her, and she had called back. What could I say to her? I was on a journey to destroy the thing she now coveted with a passion. It is no surprise that she now talks to Frodo; perhaps to do so much as beg him for the ring.
Gimli stirs to my left, and the two hobbits Merry and Pippin draw closer to the dwarf's side. We have all grown so close. Only to be ripped apart once our path was clear. I failed Gandalf. I know I did. The pain rises and threatens to swallow me again, yet I suppress the urge to grieve. For, that would only lead to death, and the journey is too perilous to leave to these mortals alone.
"Do you think of the wizard, Legolas?" Aragorn's voice surprises me, and I turn my head quickly. He has settled comfortably behind me, and I am alarmed at his soundless approach. I wonder if my senses are failing me.
"Yes. It is a hard thing to accept, I think. Don't you, Aragorn?" I answer him in Sindarin. Better to stick to the familiars. He smiles and nods as he rises. My fearless leader. He walks almost meaninglessly towards the direction in which Frodo left. "The ring calls to you as well doesn't it? None of us can escape its voice can we?" He doesn't answer me. Instead, he merely lights his pipe and takes a long drag, after which he finally speaks.
"I knew what I would have to resist when I began this journey. I did not know what I would have to endure though. And after," he pauses, almost as if he can't finish his sentence and I am struck by how commanding he looks. He truly fits the part of the king. "After Gandalf's death, I don't know if I can go on." He lowers his head and I rise silently and go to him.
"You will lead us. It is your destiny. You will destroy the ring and we will all make it back. We may have lost one member, but we are still a fellowship." I place my hand on his shoulder and the heat of his skin soaks through the cloth. I am reminded of how warm humans really are, and how cold I really am. He nods, in deep thought, and then raises his eyes. "You're right. By god, if you elves aren't always right." We both chuckle low and look around a little guiltily as Boromir stirs, then settles back into sleep. "You should sleep. We will leave at first day break."
I nod, and I know that my leader will be strong enough for all of us. He will lead us to victory.
Chapter Title: Reaffirmed HOPE (not hop *sorry*)
Author: Faline
Rating: PG- this doesn't mean it's not worth reading! GIVE THE STORY A CHANCE MAN!
Summary: Legolas and Aragorn both think upon Gandalf's 'death' on the way to and in Lothlorien. Who loses hope, and who gains a new perspective? Well, read and find out!
DISCLAIMER: DESPITE ALL MY PRAYERS AND HOPES, I DO NOT OWN ANYONE IN THIS STORY! TOLKIEN IS A GENIUS, AND HIS WORK SHALL NOT BE FALSIFIED UNDER A NAME AS UNWORTHY AS MY OWN! Lol. LONG LIVE THE ELF!
For those who gave a response before, sorry about the smudged title, and the misspellings of Gandalf and Moria. Thanks for your comments though.
This story is about Hope, and how one can lose hope when the situation is dire. How will the two royal members of the fellowship look back and to the future when the going is rough and the road is perilous?
Reaffirmed Hope (1 of ?)
All hope is lost now. The innocence is gone, forever to be forgotten. It pains me to look upon the faces of my men and even hope that we can finish our mission. The king I am, true. Yet, the leader I was not, am not. How can I lead this group of only seven when I cannot claim a kingdom that is rightfully mine? It pains me to think of my love. I don't believe I will ever see her again.
As I look to those familiar faces, their eyes covered in a film of tears and sorrow, and I know that it is I who have failed. I who has not protected every member like a good king should. "Move them out Legolas. We move now." My voice is not my own. It is a voice of the past. Yet, no one besides me seems to notice. They cry for Gandalf.
"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir is the one to speak. I understand and accept this from my fellow man. Yet, I cannot sway. Not for a moment. The elf is too stunned to speak as he gives me a sorrowful look then looks away. I cannot look upon his face at this moment. "These plains will be covered by orcs by nightfall. We must make it to the forest of Lothlorien." I speak the truth. I have failed, but I will stay my course, and I won't let Frodo down again.
My mind is pushed to the hobbit and I search for him with my eyes. He has stepped away, and the ring's power is not felt as strongly from this distance. Yet, I yearn for the feel of that ring close to me. Yearn for it like a child yearns for comfort from its mother. It's a strange sort of love, and I need it like water. "Frodo?" He turns and I see a single tear for Gandalf run down his cheek. In all my lust for the ring and for power, I must not, cannot, forget who is separating that object and myself. I must remember Frodo in my thoughts, and never betray him, for he is the one who holds my sword.
~!~!~!~!~!~
It is night in Lothlorien. I dream of my home, in Mirkwood. How different the trees are from my father's kingdom. They fairly shine with an inner light and are silver, like the moon. Not at all like the rich, brown color that the trunks bear and the vivid green of the leaves, sparkling with the morning dew. I am many miles from home, yet I still remember all the years I have spent a far and still dreamed of my land, of my people.
Being an oddity among your people is something that was a gift of sorts. The females were drawn to me and my cursed blond hair and I could not step away from my dwelling without a bow or bent knee because my hair is so different. So unlike the dark, shining brown hair of the others of my kind. The rest of the Sylvan elves are a different breed almost.
The wind changes and my dreams are torn to pieces as a figure of shimmering white passes by my bedroll. Blinking, I raise my head. Galadriel is leading Frodo to the looking well.
She confessed to me, on a quiet overlook, her fear of the future. The conversation was quiet and she spoke of going into the West, to join the others. And of the ring that Frodo carried in his vest pocket. She heard the ring's call while we were still miles away, emerging from the walls of Moria. It called to her, and she had called back. What could I say to her? I was on a journey to destroy the thing she now coveted with a passion. It is no surprise that she now talks to Frodo; perhaps to do so much as beg him for the ring.
Gimli stirs to my left, and the two hobbits Merry and Pippin draw closer to the dwarf's side. We have all grown so close. Only to be ripped apart once our path was clear. I failed Gandalf. I know I did. The pain rises and threatens to swallow me again, yet I suppress the urge to grieve. For, that would only lead to death, and the journey is too perilous to leave to these mortals alone.
"Do you think of the wizard, Legolas?" Aragorn's voice surprises me, and I turn my head quickly. He has settled comfortably behind me, and I am alarmed at his soundless approach. I wonder if my senses are failing me.
"Yes. It is a hard thing to accept, I think. Don't you, Aragorn?" I answer him in Sindarin. Better to stick to the familiars. He smiles and nods as he rises. My fearless leader. He walks almost meaninglessly towards the direction in which Frodo left. "The ring calls to you as well doesn't it? None of us can escape its voice can we?" He doesn't answer me. Instead, he merely lights his pipe and takes a long drag, after which he finally speaks.
"I knew what I would have to resist when I began this journey. I did not know what I would have to endure though. And after," he pauses, almost as if he can't finish his sentence and I am struck by how commanding he looks. He truly fits the part of the king. "After Gandalf's death, I don't know if I can go on." He lowers his head and I rise silently and go to him.
"You will lead us. It is your destiny. You will destroy the ring and we will all make it back. We may have lost one member, but we are still a fellowship." I place my hand on his shoulder and the heat of his skin soaks through the cloth. I am reminded of how warm humans really are, and how cold I really am. He nods, in deep thought, and then raises his eyes. "You're right. By god, if you elves aren't always right." We both chuckle low and look around a little guiltily as Boromir stirs, then settles back into sleep. "You should sleep. We will leave at first day break."
I nod, and I know that my leader will be strong enough for all of us. He will lead us to victory.
