None of the original characters such as Legolas, Thranduil and Elrond am I trying to steal. They all belong to John Ronald Reul Tolkien, and I think his son Christopher Tolkien also. The only characters that are mine and mine alone are the ones that I have completely made up, such as Legolas's lover (who is coming soon because I have not gotten that far and I do not know her name but I think it might be Evine with a long I) and others that I will make up and have made up. Bear with me here, because you simply must understand that I am not yet finished reading the Trilogy, so if I get something wrong or inaccurate, please tell me. Thank you. DO NOT COPY THIS!! First of all, you do not want the wrath of Sauron unleashed upon you, and besides, it is bad karma.
II
The Misty Mountains
Legolas set off with all the supplies he could find on the haunted dirt field, covering a lot of land in short amounts of time, heading towards the setting sun in the Northeast. The days soon melted away into golden-yellow sunsets and the seasons also passed from summer to autumn. He bounded over the meadows of Loeg Ninglorn like a wild rabbit, and through the Forests of Rhovanion like he was possessed. Legolas must have been traveling for quite a few months before he came upon the Misty Mountains. They were treacherous but beautiful; and Legolas continued on doggedly, spurred by a force unknown to him yet inside him, telling him where to go.
The day passed slowly, and Legolas could feel fear closing in on him like a thick dark cloud. That night he would again be haunted by sickening images and omens of wolves and orcs, and other evil creatures of the dark places of the world.
Legolas settled in to rest for the night near a precipice of great height. As he looked over the side, Legolas began to feel dizzy. He sat back down on his bed of hay and blankets. Thoughts of his father began to creep into his mind. Childhood memories, and images of his father and mother together with Legolas lulled him to sleep.
He was enclosed in a fort with three walls of logs set on fire for protection, and sprinkled with the Elvish plant Mithran, which fueled the wood for many more long hours.
He awoke in the middle of the night, startled by a sound of a twig breaking before him, and he grabbed his white knife that was on his belt. There, standing no more than a few feet in front of him, was a great wolf, its eyes gleaming fiery red. For a few moments, the wolf, almost as large as Legolas himself, and the Elf just stared at each other. Legolas and the wolf seemed to be breathing in unison, and the wolf began to send evil images into Legolas's mind. Legolas dropped the knife and clutched his head, and began to writhe in agony. The wolf closed in, and Legolas broke the connection between them, shaking off the evil images, and reached for his knife. The wolf pounced at him, before even the swift Legolas could get his knife. He struggled with the wolf, but he was pinned down. Legolas jerked his head out of the way every time it snarled and snapped at his fair face. Focusing all his strength and energy into his leg, Legolas kicked it in its rear as hard as he could,
and sent the wolf off behind him, over the sharp rocks beyond. He could hear its cries as the wolf fell over the side of the cliff, and its yelps every time it hit a rock. For Legolas was a noble creature, and, taking pity on it, drew his bow and arrow and shot it so it could feel no more pain.
Slowly he lowered the bow, and looked off to the side so he could no longer see the wolf's descent. He stood there for a moment, breathing hard, blood streaming down his forehead. As soon as his nerves seemed to calm down, Legolas heard another noise in the opposite direction of where he was looking. He swiftly turned his head, and there a dozen wolves were standing, ready to pounce on Legolas.
Thee was one wolf that was particularly large, larger than the first one. It had fiery red eyes that seemed to be filled with hate and evil.
Creatures of Mordor, thought Legolas. After a brief moment of looking into one wolf's green eyes, Legolas took off running as fast as he could. He bounded over every boulder and crevice and slung his bow over his back. The wolves were lagging behind already as Legolas gained more speed.
Legolas slipped on a rock and fell down face-first. But before he hit the ground, he caught himself and ran even faster. Legolas turned around and slung his bow, aiming for the closest wolf. Still racing dangerously fast over the mountaintops, Legolas let his arrows fly at the wolf. He then tried a new technique: sending two arrows at once. By this time, Legolas was gaining space between him and the pack, and some of them began to give up.
Legolas gained more and more space, until he was almost no longer within range of the wolves. They completely gave up and returned to the other wolves to mourn over their losses.
But Legolas kept running as fast as he could, until the Sun began to rise. There was one great mountain left and as soon as Legolas passed, it, he stopped at the peak abruptly, almost losing his balance. He gasped. There lay the fairest city he had ever laid his beautiful eyes on, glistening silvery-white. Legolas recognized it from stories and rumors he had heard of places far away. It was Rivendell, the home of the Elves.
II
The Misty Mountains
Legolas set off with all the supplies he could find on the haunted dirt field, covering a lot of land in short amounts of time, heading towards the setting sun in the Northeast. The days soon melted away into golden-yellow sunsets and the seasons also passed from summer to autumn. He bounded over the meadows of Loeg Ninglorn like a wild rabbit, and through the Forests of Rhovanion like he was possessed. Legolas must have been traveling for quite a few months before he came upon the Misty Mountains. They were treacherous but beautiful; and Legolas continued on doggedly, spurred by a force unknown to him yet inside him, telling him where to go.
The day passed slowly, and Legolas could feel fear closing in on him like a thick dark cloud. That night he would again be haunted by sickening images and omens of wolves and orcs, and other evil creatures of the dark places of the world.
Legolas settled in to rest for the night near a precipice of great height. As he looked over the side, Legolas began to feel dizzy. He sat back down on his bed of hay and blankets. Thoughts of his father began to creep into his mind. Childhood memories, and images of his father and mother together with Legolas lulled him to sleep.
He was enclosed in a fort with three walls of logs set on fire for protection, and sprinkled with the Elvish plant Mithran, which fueled the wood for many more long hours.
He awoke in the middle of the night, startled by a sound of a twig breaking before him, and he grabbed his white knife that was on his belt. There, standing no more than a few feet in front of him, was a great wolf, its eyes gleaming fiery red. For a few moments, the wolf, almost as large as Legolas himself, and the Elf just stared at each other. Legolas and the wolf seemed to be breathing in unison, and the wolf began to send evil images into Legolas's mind. Legolas dropped the knife and clutched his head, and began to writhe in agony. The wolf closed in, and Legolas broke the connection between them, shaking off the evil images, and reached for his knife. The wolf pounced at him, before even the swift Legolas could get his knife. He struggled with the wolf, but he was pinned down. Legolas jerked his head out of the way every time it snarled and snapped at his fair face. Focusing all his strength and energy into his leg, Legolas kicked it in its rear as hard as he could,
and sent the wolf off behind him, over the sharp rocks beyond. He could hear its cries as the wolf fell over the side of the cliff, and its yelps every time it hit a rock. For Legolas was a noble creature, and, taking pity on it, drew his bow and arrow and shot it so it could feel no more pain.
Slowly he lowered the bow, and looked off to the side so he could no longer see the wolf's descent. He stood there for a moment, breathing hard, blood streaming down his forehead. As soon as his nerves seemed to calm down, Legolas heard another noise in the opposite direction of where he was looking. He swiftly turned his head, and there a dozen wolves were standing, ready to pounce on Legolas.
Thee was one wolf that was particularly large, larger than the first one. It had fiery red eyes that seemed to be filled with hate and evil.
Creatures of Mordor, thought Legolas. After a brief moment of looking into one wolf's green eyes, Legolas took off running as fast as he could. He bounded over every boulder and crevice and slung his bow over his back. The wolves were lagging behind already as Legolas gained more speed.
Legolas slipped on a rock and fell down face-first. But before he hit the ground, he caught himself and ran even faster. Legolas turned around and slung his bow, aiming for the closest wolf. Still racing dangerously fast over the mountaintops, Legolas let his arrows fly at the wolf. He then tried a new technique: sending two arrows at once. By this time, Legolas was gaining space between him and the pack, and some of them began to give up.
Legolas gained more and more space, until he was almost no longer within range of the wolves. They completely gave up and returned to the other wolves to mourn over their losses.
But Legolas kept running as fast as he could, until the Sun began to rise. There was one great mountain left and as soon as Legolas passed, it, he stopped at the peak abruptly, almost losing his balance. He gasped. There lay the fairest city he had ever laid his beautiful eyes on, glistening silvery-white. Legolas recognized it from stories and rumors he had heard of places far away. It was Rivendell, the home of the Elves.