Pulling the thin blanket tightly around his body, Aragorn curled into a
stiff ball in attempt to gain warmth. Scrunching up his nose to snort at
some interfering leaves blocking his makeshift pillow of clothes, he
allowed his mind to wander absently, moving from the most absurd things as
acorns in relation to his name to more important matters, such as Frodo and
the Ring. Furrowing his brow, he brought up his hands to blow on them
quietly, his fingers numbing from cold. The Ring. He sighed.
Boromir, Gimli, myself, Frodo, Pippin, Legolas, Sam, Merry. Aragorn blinked, then recounted. Was that all? The Fellowship seemed so small all of a sudden, and the mere thought scared him. Eight? Was that really it? Just eight wandering men with no slight idea of what they were getting themselves in to with the knowledge that they could croak at any given time? How could there only be eight? Well, Gandalf had fallen to the Balrog, and his absence was greatly missed, yet… Aragorn shook his head briefly. He had better stop thinking, he told himself, before his thoughts come up with something absolutely un-called for.
Which it usually did.
Typical.
His overactive mind traveled merrily over to the Elf. Unconsciously, a blissful smile reached Aragorn's face. Legolas. Their relationship was known and indeed encouraged by the rest of the Fellowship, much to the couple's delight. But lately the young king had taken the relationship to a deeper level, and of course Legolas didn't mind at all… but… he wished to ask the Mirkwood prince of a certain question. *The* question. The problem was, how? Where? With *what*? His plans were already foiled today thanks to the Hobbits (not that he minded, Legolas would rather marry his shoe like he had joked than consider that question now) but he, unfortunately, didn't have a ring or anything to present to the Elf, though he had planned to ask Elrond about it before they had departed, just in case. Kicking himself mentally at his foolishness, he was rudely awakened from his thoughts.
A rustle of fabric caught his attention from across the remains of the fire. Sitting up on his elbows, Strider narrowed his eyes against the dark in attempt to figure out who had a restless sleep. The source of his disturbance came from a certain Dwarf, who had shifted in his slumber and rolled over on some of the charcoal Merry had 'accidentally' placed next to him after supper, along with a little spot of a gushy something that Aragorn would rather not know the identity of.. Boromir sneezed abruptly, followed by a murmur that sounded strangely like, "Those are my cookies… bugger off… aaugh, not the banana…" As if having the exact same dream as the Man beside him, Pippin squeaked out, "MY cookiiieeeeee, get yer own you banana thief," before Merry elbowed his ribs ungraciously.
Deciding to check on the others for the hell of it, Aragorn sat up to view the small camp from his space on the floor. Frodo and Sam slept back to back, Frodo holding Sting to his chest for dear life and Sam a bag of mushrooms. The Hobbits were fine, and were actually quite cute when they slept all curled up like that. Aragorn frowned. Must be that Elven wine.
Elven wine?
Damn that Elf.
Crinkling his nose, Aragorn shifted his eyes over to where the said Elf slept soundly. Eyes open in the manner of his people, Legolas lay flat on his back, hands across his chest and looking positively dead if it weren't for the slight heaving of his chest in proof his breathing. Still, the way the Moon hit him and outlined his body was magnificent, almost as if an Angel took his place in that very second. Aragorn smiled slightly. Like Elven wine, that beautiful blonde hair and silky alabaster skin was addicting, not to mention those captivating blue eyes that danced whenever he cast his gaze his way, his muscled body rippling with delight and grace whenever he was just walking or playing harmless pranks on the rest of them, his laughter filling their ears like a wind chime fluttering against the spring breeze…
Damn him!
Aragorn grunted, turning hastily back over, trying to push Legolas out of his head without much success. That Elf surely did a number on him, capturing his heart and keeping it in a silken, satin box adorned with the finest gems found in Middle-Earth for his own use only. Chewing his lip, he curled his fingers into a fist to avoid getting up and tackling the sleeping beauty, making a note to teach that meddling prince a lessen or two about stealing hearts in the morning.
Night wore on.
Crickets chirped.
Owls cooed in the distance, and rodents scattered nervously about.
And still Aragorn didn't sleep.
And still he damned that Elf and his wine.
Then something caught his eye.
A lean figure rose from the filth of the ground, an eerie glow existing in a halo around the frame of the body. His face was a pale white, almost deathly, and his eyes were unblinking and gray; his cheekbones had a strange hollow look to them as if someone had taken a hammer and swung at his cheeks, puncturing them in. His eyes betrayed nothing except for a glimmer of confusion that was hidden deep in his pupils. Standing perfectly still for a single second, it moved towards Aragorn with such grace that it gave the illusion that it walked on air, stepping over him swiftly and heading in a different direction. Blinking, Strider looked up at the retreating backside. A dawning realization flashed through his mind. Legolas!
Struggling out of the tangle the blanket had him in, Aragorn scrambled to his feet, noting that the Elf had covered such a long distance in such little time. Grabbing his ever-present sword, the Man ran at an even, quick pace to catch up to the wandering Elven prince, but made sure to keep his rightful distance between them. Knowing that Elves could be dangerous when startled or when panicking, Aragorn made a note to keep from making too much noise from his footsteps. Though Lord Elrond had taught him to walk delicately as an Elf would, he was still a Man, and made unnecessary noises when tramping through the Forests.
The night remained dark.
Strider didn't know how long he had been following Legolas, or how far away they truly were from the rest of the Fellowship, but frankly it didn't matter at the present time. While staying behind Legolas, but keeping a watchful, keen eye on him, Aragorn had spotted flecks of blood dotting his hair and clothes, appearing suddenly and without an origin. The blood stains grew larger and larger, now almost covering the golden hair he had grown to love with a deadly sign hidden somewhere in the damp mass.
The halo continued to glow.
Finally, the prince haulted his pace. Aragorn followed his example, yet hid behind a tree. T'was a wise thing to do, keep out of sight of a seemingly unsuspecting Elf. A quietly rippling stream ran at the tip of the Elf's shoes, but all too suddenly did it turn from clear to a glowing black. Watching from 'round the staff of the tree, Aragorn saw the Elf's pale face. He gasped inwardly at the sight of steady streaks of blood flowing down from his widow's peak. Before he could react, a deadly gaze was turned on to him, the beautiful blue eyes now flashing a dangerous red, his smile twisted into that of an Orc, upper lip pulled back in a snarl.
"Legolas," Aragorn managed to choke out as the Elf raised his bow, an arrow cocked and ready for release. Legolas' grin was frozen on his face.
"Estel," his voice said hauntingly, and his arrow showed no mercy.
Boromir, Gimli, myself, Frodo, Pippin, Legolas, Sam, Merry. Aragorn blinked, then recounted. Was that all? The Fellowship seemed so small all of a sudden, and the mere thought scared him. Eight? Was that really it? Just eight wandering men with no slight idea of what they were getting themselves in to with the knowledge that they could croak at any given time? How could there only be eight? Well, Gandalf had fallen to the Balrog, and his absence was greatly missed, yet… Aragorn shook his head briefly. He had better stop thinking, he told himself, before his thoughts come up with something absolutely un-called for.
Which it usually did.
Typical.
His overactive mind traveled merrily over to the Elf. Unconsciously, a blissful smile reached Aragorn's face. Legolas. Their relationship was known and indeed encouraged by the rest of the Fellowship, much to the couple's delight. But lately the young king had taken the relationship to a deeper level, and of course Legolas didn't mind at all… but… he wished to ask the Mirkwood prince of a certain question. *The* question. The problem was, how? Where? With *what*? His plans were already foiled today thanks to the Hobbits (not that he minded, Legolas would rather marry his shoe like he had joked than consider that question now) but he, unfortunately, didn't have a ring or anything to present to the Elf, though he had planned to ask Elrond about it before they had departed, just in case. Kicking himself mentally at his foolishness, he was rudely awakened from his thoughts.
A rustle of fabric caught his attention from across the remains of the fire. Sitting up on his elbows, Strider narrowed his eyes against the dark in attempt to figure out who had a restless sleep. The source of his disturbance came from a certain Dwarf, who had shifted in his slumber and rolled over on some of the charcoal Merry had 'accidentally' placed next to him after supper, along with a little spot of a gushy something that Aragorn would rather not know the identity of.. Boromir sneezed abruptly, followed by a murmur that sounded strangely like, "Those are my cookies… bugger off… aaugh, not the banana…" As if having the exact same dream as the Man beside him, Pippin squeaked out, "MY cookiiieeeeee, get yer own you banana thief," before Merry elbowed his ribs ungraciously.
Deciding to check on the others for the hell of it, Aragorn sat up to view the small camp from his space on the floor. Frodo and Sam slept back to back, Frodo holding Sting to his chest for dear life and Sam a bag of mushrooms. The Hobbits were fine, and were actually quite cute when they slept all curled up like that. Aragorn frowned. Must be that Elven wine.
Elven wine?
Damn that Elf.
Crinkling his nose, Aragorn shifted his eyes over to where the said Elf slept soundly. Eyes open in the manner of his people, Legolas lay flat on his back, hands across his chest and looking positively dead if it weren't for the slight heaving of his chest in proof his breathing. Still, the way the Moon hit him and outlined his body was magnificent, almost as if an Angel took his place in that very second. Aragorn smiled slightly. Like Elven wine, that beautiful blonde hair and silky alabaster skin was addicting, not to mention those captivating blue eyes that danced whenever he cast his gaze his way, his muscled body rippling with delight and grace whenever he was just walking or playing harmless pranks on the rest of them, his laughter filling their ears like a wind chime fluttering against the spring breeze…
Damn him!
Aragorn grunted, turning hastily back over, trying to push Legolas out of his head without much success. That Elf surely did a number on him, capturing his heart and keeping it in a silken, satin box adorned with the finest gems found in Middle-Earth for his own use only. Chewing his lip, he curled his fingers into a fist to avoid getting up and tackling the sleeping beauty, making a note to teach that meddling prince a lessen or two about stealing hearts in the morning.
Night wore on.
Crickets chirped.
Owls cooed in the distance, and rodents scattered nervously about.
And still Aragorn didn't sleep.
And still he damned that Elf and his wine.
Then something caught his eye.
A lean figure rose from the filth of the ground, an eerie glow existing in a halo around the frame of the body. His face was a pale white, almost deathly, and his eyes were unblinking and gray; his cheekbones had a strange hollow look to them as if someone had taken a hammer and swung at his cheeks, puncturing them in. His eyes betrayed nothing except for a glimmer of confusion that was hidden deep in his pupils. Standing perfectly still for a single second, it moved towards Aragorn with such grace that it gave the illusion that it walked on air, stepping over him swiftly and heading in a different direction. Blinking, Strider looked up at the retreating backside. A dawning realization flashed through his mind. Legolas!
Struggling out of the tangle the blanket had him in, Aragorn scrambled to his feet, noting that the Elf had covered such a long distance in such little time. Grabbing his ever-present sword, the Man ran at an even, quick pace to catch up to the wandering Elven prince, but made sure to keep his rightful distance between them. Knowing that Elves could be dangerous when startled or when panicking, Aragorn made a note to keep from making too much noise from his footsteps. Though Lord Elrond had taught him to walk delicately as an Elf would, he was still a Man, and made unnecessary noises when tramping through the Forests.
The night remained dark.
Strider didn't know how long he had been following Legolas, or how far away they truly were from the rest of the Fellowship, but frankly it didn't matter at the present time. While staying behind Legolas, but keeping a watchful, keen eye on him, Aragorn had spotted flecks of blood dotting his hair and clothes, appearing suddenly and without an origin. The blood stains grew larger and larger, now almost covering the golden hair he had grown to love with a deadly sign hidden somewhere in the damp mass.
The halo continued to glow.
Finally, the prince haulted his pace. Aragorn followed his example, yet hid behind a tree. T'was a wise thing to do, keep out of sight of a seemingly unsuspecting Elf. A quietly rippling stream ran at the tip of the Elf's shoes, but all too suddenly did it turn from clear to a glowing black. Watching from 'round the staff of the tree, Aragorn saw the Elf's pale face. He gasped inwardly at the sight of steady streaks of blood flowing down from his widow's peak. Before he could react, a deadly gaze was turned on to him, the beautiful blue eyes now flashing a dangerous red, his smile twisted into that of an Orc, upper lip pulled back in a snarl.
"Legolas," Aragorn managed to choke out as the Elf raised his bow, an arrow cocked and ready for release. Legolas' grin was frozen on his face.
"Estel," his voice said hauntingly, and his arrow showed no mercy.