Attacks on Mirkwood 2: During Fellowship
By Lothlórien
Legolas was still tired from his healing when the Council was called to order. His temper ran short this morning, as did his tolerance for the apparent stupidity and clumsiness of the Dwarves. Already he had found himself caught in an awkward situation with the Lord Gloin's son, Gimli.
He had been nursing his arm in the large garden, waiting for Lord Elrond to call him to the healing. The pain had begun to be felt more and more during the day, so Elrond had to accelerate his schedule.
The Dwarven entourage had passed before him. He had respect, even for Dwarves, so he stood, still while cradling his white bandaged arm. Gimli had let out a slight chuckle as he passed by, his smirk hidden under his large beard.
Legolas had taken it with some dignity at least. Soon after the group had passed, the recklessness of his far gone youngest youth caused him to snatch up a small stone and he threw it after the chuckling dwarf. He disappeared into the elegant trees long before the dwarf spun in indignity.
Now Legolas sat in the Council circle, waiting. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately...
Elrond began, and, again, Legolas was amazed the apparent stupidity of the Dwarves. A couple times he exploded into words at the Human, Boromir, and then Gimli had made that statement about the Ring coming to an Elf.
Even while his fellow Elves, who had traveled with him all the way from Mirkwood, exploded around him, he sighed, embarrassed to be part of this. He held his friends back from physical violence, but their words, he could not block. Even while they fought, along with the Humans and Rivendell Elves, he felt a wave of evil, like a flame, fall over him.
The Frodo had jumped forward.
It seemed as if he was growing younger by the minute. His mindless devotion of his skills to the small hobbit may have seemed to be reckless to others, but it ensured that the Dwarves would not somehow end up with the Ring in their possession. All Legolas did to say good-bye to his friends was a quick wrist clasp after the Council had begun to end.
Even as he said good-bye, he felt eyes on him. Not only was Elrond watching him in interest, but the Dwarf Gimli and his father stood by, seemingly waiting. Gimli didn't appear to be pleased, but Gloin had a tight hold on the back of his son's belt
"Master Elf, may we have a word?" Gloin called him over after the farewells had been given and received.
"Lord Gloin," Legolas nodded his head and raised his arm to his opposite shoulder in a sign of respect.
"I understand that you and my son will be traveling on this quest together, perhaps for a long while," Gloin sniffed, "I would like to be sure that my impulsive son and the son of the Elf that imprisoned me so long ago would not kill each other while saving Middle-Earth."
Legolas raised an eyebrow. He had heard the stories about his father imprisoning Thorin Oakenshield and Company, but he had been gone from Mirkwood at the time.
"I will not cause him harm," Legolas agreed, but Gimli merely grunted. Legolas' eyes twinkled, "I must be ready when it is time to leave Rivendell. Peace, Lord Gloin."
Legolas knew that the fact that they were both the sons of two being who had hated each other must make Gimli very angry. He would have to walk softly around this Dwarf.
Outside Moria...
Legolas heard Frodo's cry behind him. Tentacles, too many moving too fast to count, had snatched the hobbit up and were hauling him towards a mouth of many teeth. Aragorn and Boromir were already moving fast.
Legolas drew the other hobbits into the entrance and nocked an arrow, as fast as lightning. He released them at Boromir's cry.
When Frodo fell, Boromir hurried to get him to the shore. Legolas snatched his cloak and carried him to his feet. A waving, slimy tentacle caught him on the calf, but the stinging pain soon passed.
The gates collapsed behind them, leaving the Fellowship in the blackness of Khazad-Dûm. Legolas was very uneasy about this prospect, so his grip on his bow became almost death-like, and his knuckles turned almost white. He hated being underground.
It was the worst kind of torture. And to think that they would be in this blackness for almost four days...
He shuddered involuntarily, looking around the deep darkness. He wanted to see trees again, and though they had only been in the blackness of Hadhodrond for a few hours, he was already feeling stifled and strangled.
"Uneasy, Master Elf?" Gimli chuckled, "Does the darkness frighten you?"
Legolas didn't glare. Instead, he gave Gimli a look that said, `Please, don't. I feel sick enough already.' The Dwarf seemed to understand, and backed off on his offensive against the fair prince.
The tunnels were depressing for the elf, and he knew what evils lived here. He had heard stories, numerous horror tales, about the terrors that were awakened in Moria by the once-greedy dwarves. He was almost too busy thinking about what might be ahead to see the thin trap wire.
"Gandalf!" He hissed quietly. The wizard paused, and then turned back to him.
"There is a trap here," He knelt by the wire. Aragorn knelt beside him.
"He is correct. Good eyes, Legolas," Aragorn clapped his friend on the back, "Now, let us pass it by. We do not need to warn any orcs of our presences."
"What of those who may pass behind us?" Samwise spoke up.
"Who would be foolish enough to follow?" Gandalf asked, leaning on his brightly glowing staff.
Sam shrugged and became quiet once again. Hobbits were not as disturbed by the underground, considering that they lived in holes themselves. But Legolas saw the tiniest hint of wisdom in the small hobbit's words. He traced the wire back to the wall and cut the wire far enough away so he could tie a goblin's arrow shaft to it.
The arrow would keep the wire taut, thus fooling the trap makers.
Legolas, slightly proud of his work, stayed behind a little, to the extent of Gandalf's light. He wanted to be sure of his handiwork's lasting. When he looked up, Gandalf and the others were ahead. He walked quickly to catch up to them.
Suddenly, the place in his chest where he had been injured so long ago began to throb. The pain was dull, not sharp, so he kept going. The arrow wound had been healed...why did it ache? Legolas kept pace with the others, being sure to stay in Gandalf's light and Aragorn's torch.
There was a shrill, ear tearing scream. Legolas, taken utterly by surprise, clapped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the constant scream.
"Something's wrong with Legolas!" Pippin called, turning back to the elf. Boromir frowned.
"What happened?" Gandalf asked. Legolas was wincing in pain, trying to cover his ears. The wizard hurried back, and gasped when he saw the smallest hints of blood begin to seep between the elf's fingers, "There is a sound that we cannot hear! It is destroying his ears!"
Legolas gasped in pain as the scream rose in pitch. More blood soaked his palms and filled his elegant ears.
"Find it!" Gandalf thundered. He swung his staff. The crystal flew out of the entwining branches and clattered against the wall, leaving a smear of light. Aragorn picked up the crystal and smashed the small gargoyle that had been marked. The scream ended in a cry of pain, one that even they could hear.
Gimli was the nearest one to Legolas, and he caught the elf as he collapsed to his knees. The elf took his hands from his ears and grimaced when he saw the blood.
"Here," Gimli handed him a piece of cloth with which to wipe his ears and hands off with.
Legolas was soon on his feet again, but his ears and chest ached horribly. His ears would be ringing for the next few days, but it was better than never being able to hear at all. But what caused his chest to hurt was beyond his knowledge. The arrow wound throbbed constantly now.
It was perhaps ten hours later when he realized that it couldn't be night itself that caused his pain. His wound should be healed, but for some reason, it wasn't.
Many hours passed. Legolas was thinking about home when Gimli gave a cry of discovery and ran to a room. There was sunlight in there... Though he tried not to show it, Legolas was relieved to see even that much true light. His relief was changed to horror when he saw the Dwarven tomb.
In Lothlórien...
All time seemed to blur together.
Gandalf...He was gone...
Legolas tried to keep his grief behind the doors of his mind. He knew, once let go, his grief could kill him, as it could. It was a curse of being an elf. Grief killed as surely as a physical wound. But, what he felt seemed to tear him apart from the inside, sending him spiraling through the wells of his mind.
Lothlórien was a comforting place, but even the presence of elven magic, trees, and sunlight did not raise his spirits.
He was dead...Oh, Gandalf, you left us at a crossroads. How shall we know what to do?
The healed wound in his chest ached worse and worse as they came closer to Celeborn and Galadriel's home, deep in Lothlórien. He knew that the pain and his grief could kill him if he didn't not over come the rampant emotions that threatened to tear him apart from the inside.
When they rested that night, after the council with Celeborn and Galadriel, Legolas was taken to his own room. He would not stay with the others of the Fellowship, a fate decided by him. He needed time to heal from the grief. The elven prince collapsed into the small bed.
He let the tears flow.
Pure sorrow wracked his body as he cried. His heart ached terribly, and his chest throbbed with sharp pains. Is this what it felt like to die of sorrow?
Gandalf was a good friend. Now that he was gone, Aragorn would lead. Legolas knew the heir of Isildur was a good man, and had knowledge beyond his years, but only time could relieve the loss of Gandalf in their hearts.
Legolas had never felt grief like this, he had never cried this hard. Gandalf had been like the wise old grandfather that had always been described to him by humans. Elves were close, but wisdom was shown is different ways than a heart-warming smile and gentle touch on the shoulder.
The tears lessened, and he checked his reflection in a pool of water. He would have to wait until his eyes stopped burning red before he left the room. Having the dwarf see him like this would be unacceptable to say the least. No dwarf had ever seen an elf in grieving. Ever. And Legolas planned to keep it that way, even if it meant staying in this room for the whole night.
Finally, when he did emerge, the pain in his heart and chest was gone. As he walked down the paths towards where his friends stayed, a pair of eyes followed him.
Galadriel smiled at her mirror and thanked whoever could hear that she had the power to save the elf's life.
The Three Hunters Run...
(What was going through Legolas' mind?)
First Gandalf, now Boromir...The dwarf is correct, the Fellowship has failed. How are we to help Frodo and Sam if they leave us? But Merry and Pippin...
Legolas heard Aragorn's words, but they penetrated little. It was not until Aragorn commanded them to leave as much as they could behind that he actually began to comprehend his friend's words.
"Let's hunt some orc."
Legolas nearly smiled, then he glanced at the dwarf. Gimli grinned widely and yelled, "Yeah, ha, ha!" That brought a true smile to Legolas' face. To see a dwarf with such enthusiasm was not unheard of, but in front of an elf...
He breathed deeply as they followed Aragorn.
And, for once, his chest didn't hurt.
FIN...at least until the next movie...
By Lothlórien
Legolas was still tired from his healing when the Council was called to order. His temper ran short this morning, as did his tolerance for the apparent stupidity and clumsiness of the Dwarves. Already he had found himself caught in an awkward situation with the Lord Gloin's son, Gimli.
He had been nursing his arm in the large garden, waiting for Lord Elrond to call him to the healing. The pain had begun to be felt more and more during the day, so Elrond had to accelerate his schedule.
The Dwarven entourage had passed before him. He had respect, even for Dwarves, so he stood, still while cradling his white bandaged arm. Gimli had let out a slight chuckle as he passed by, his smirk hidden under his large beard.
Legolas had taken it with some dignity at least. Soon after the group had passed, the recklessness of his far gone youngest youth caused him to snatch up a small stone and he threw it after the chuckling dwarf. He disappeared into the elegant trees long before the dwarf spun in indignity.
Now Legolas sat in the Council circle, waiting. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately...
Elrond began, and, again, Legolas was amazed the apparent stupidity of the Dwarves. A couple times he exploded into words at the Human, Boromir, and then Gimli had made that statement about the Ring coming to an Elf.
Even while his fellow Elves, who had traveled with him all the way from Mirkwood, exploded around him, he sighed, embarrassed to be part of this. He held his friends back from physical violence, but their words, he could not block. Even while they fought, along with the Humans and Rivendell Elves, he felt a wave of evil, like a flame, fall over him.
The Frodo had jumped forward.
It seemed as if he was growing younger by the minute. His mindless devotion of his skills to the small hobbit may have seemed to be reckless to others, but it ensured that the Dwarves would not somehow end up with the Ring in their possession. All Legolas did to say good-bye to his friends was a quick wrist clasp after the Council had begun to end.
Even as he said good-bye, he felt eyes on him. Not only was Elrond watching him in interest, but the Dwarf Gimli and his father stood by, seemingly waiting. Gimli didn't appear to be pleased, but Gloin had a tight hold on the back of his son's belt
"Master Elf, may we have a word?" Gloin called him over after the farewells had been given and received.
"Lord Gloin," Legolas nodded his head and raised his arm to his opposite shoulder in a sign of respect.
"I understand that you and my son will be traveling on this quest together, perhaps for a long while," Gloin sniffed, "I would like to be sure that my impulsive son and the son of the Elf that imprisoned me so long ago would not kill each other while saving Middle-Earth."
Legolas raised an eyebrow. He had heard the stories about his father imprisoning Thorin Oakenshield and Company, but he had been gone from Mirkwood at the time.
"I will not cause him harm," Legolas agreed, but Gimli merely grunted. Legolas' eyes twinkled, "I must be ready when it is time to leave Rivendell. Peace, Lord Gloin."
Legolas knew that the fact that they were both the sons of two being who had hated each other must make Gimli very angry. He would have to walk softly around this Dwarf.
Outside Moria...
Legolas heard Frodo's cry behind him. Tentacles, too many moving too fast to count, had snatched the hobbit up and were hauling him towards a mouth of many teeth. Aragorn and Boromir were already moving fast.
Legolas drew the other hobbits into the entrance and nocked an arrow, as fast as lightning. He released them at Boromir's cry.
When Frodo fell, Boromir hurried to get him to the shore. Legolas snatched his cloak and carried him to his feet. A waving, slimy tentacle caught him on the calf, but the stinging pain soon passed.
The gates collapsed behind them, leaving the Fellowship in the blackness of Khazad-Dûm. Legolas was very uneasy about this prospect, so his grip on his bow became almost death-like, and his knuckles turned almost white. He hated being underground.
It was the worst kind of torture. And to think that they would be in this blackness for almost four days...
He shuddered involuntarily, looking around the deep darkness. He wanted to see trees again, and though they had only been in the blackness of Hadhodrond for a few hours, he was already feeling stifled and strangled.
"Uneasy, Master Elf?" Gimli chuckled, "Does the darkness frighten you?"
Legolas didn't glare. Instead, he gave Gimli a look that said, `Please, don't. I feel sick enough already.' The Dwarf seemed to understand, and backed off on his offensive against the fair prince.
The tunnels were depressing for the elf, and he knew what evils lived here. He had heard stories, numerous horror tales, about the terrors that were awakened in Moria by the once-greedy dwarves. He was almost too busy thinking about what might be ahead to see the thin trap wire.
"Gandalf!" He hissed quietly. The wizard paused, and then turned back to him.
"There is a trap here," He knelt by the wire. Aragorn knelt beside him.
"He is correct. Good eyes, Legolas," Aragorn clapped his friend on the back, "Now, let us pass it by. We do not need to warn any orcs of our presences."
"What of those who may pass behind us?" Samwise spoke up.
"Who would be foolish enough to follow?" Gandalf asked, leaning on his brightly glowing staff.
Sam shrugged and became quiet once again. Hobbits were not as disturbed by the underground, considering that they lived in holes themselves. But Legolas saw the tiniest hint of wisdom in the small hobbit's words. He traced the wire back to the wall and cut the wire far enough away so he could tie a goblin's arrow shaft to it.
The arrow would keep the wire taut, thus fooling the trap makers.
Legolas, slightly proud of his work, stayed behind a little, to the extent of Gandalf's light. He wanted to be sure of his handiwork's lasting. When he looked up, Gandalf and the others were ahead. He walked quickly to catch up to them.
Suddenly, the place in his chest where he had been injured so long ago began to throb. The pain was dull, not sharp, so he kept going. The arrow wound had been healed...why did it ache? Legolas kept pace with the others, being sure to stay in Gandalf's light and Aragorn's torch.
There was a shrill, ear tearing scream. Legolas, taken utterly by surprise, clapped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the constant scream.
"Something's wrong with Legolas!" Pippin called, turning back to the elf. Boromir frowned.
"What happened?" Gandalf asked. Legolas was wincing in pain, trying to cover his ears. The wizard hurried back, and gasped when he saw the smallest hints of blood begin to seep between the elf's fingers, "There is a sound that we cannot hear! It is destroying his ears!"
Legolas gasped in pain as the scream rose in pitch. More blood soaked his palms and filled his elegant ears.
"Find it!" Gandalf thundered. He swung his staff. The crystal flew out of the entwining branches and clattered against the wall, leaving a smear of light. Aragorn picked up the crystal and smashed the small gargoyle that had been marked. The scream ended in a cry of pain, one that even they could hear.
Gimli was the nearest one to Legolas, and he caught the elf as he collapsed to his knees. The elf took his hands from his ears and grimaced when he saw the blood.
"Here," Gimli handed him a piece of cloth with which to wipe his ears and hands off with.
Legolas was soon on his feet again, but his ears and chest ached horribly. His ears would be ringing for the next few days, but it was better than never being able to hear at all. But what caused his chest to hurt was beyond his knowledge. The arrow wound throbbed constantly now.
It was perhaps ten hours later when he realized that it couldn't be night itself that caused his pain. His wound should be healed, but for some reason, it wasn't.
Many hours passed. Legolas was thinking about home when Gimli gave a cry of discovery and ran to a room. There was sunlight in there... Though he tried not to show it, Legolas was relieved to see even that much true light. His relief was changed to horror when he saw the Dwarven tomb.
In Lothlórien...
All time seemed to blur together.
Gandalf...He was gone...
Legolas tried to keep his grief behind the doors of his mind. He knew, once let go, his grief could kill him, as it could. It was a curse of being an elf. Grief killed as surely as a physical wound. But, what he felt seemed to tear him apart from the inside, sending him spiraling through the wells of his mind.
Lothlórien was a comforting place, but even the presence of elven magic, trees, and sunlight did not raise his spirits.
He was dead...Oh, Gandalf, you left us at a crossroads. How shall we know what to do?
The healed wound in his chest ached worse and worse as they came closer to Celeborn and Galadriel's home, deep in Lothlórien. He knew that the pain and his grief could kill him if he didn't not over come the rampant emotions that threatened to tear him apart from the inside.
When they rested that night, after the council with Celeborn and Galadriel, Legolas was taken to his own room. He would not stay with the others of the Fellowship, a fate decided by him. He needed time to heal from the grief. The elven prince collapsed into the small bed.
He let the tears flow.
Pure sorrow wracked his body as he cried. His heart ached terribly, and his chest throbbed with sharp pains. Is this what it felt like to die of sorrow?
Gandalf was a good friend. Now that he was gone, Aragorn would lead. Legolas knew the heir of Isildur was a good man, and had knowledge beyond his years, but only time could relieve the loss of Gandalf in their hearts.
Legolas had never felt grief like this, he had never cried this hard. Gandalf had been like the wise old grandfather that had always been described to him by humans. Elves were close, but wisdom was shown is different ways than a heart-warming smile and gentle touch on the shoulder.
The tears lessened, and he checked his reflection in a pool of water. He would have to wait until his eyes stopped burning red before he left the room. Having the dwarf see him like this would be unacceptable to say the least. No dwarf had ever seen an elf in grieving. Ever. And Legolas planned to keep it that way, even if it meant staying in this room for the whole night.
Finally, when he did emerge, the pain in his heart and chest was gone. As he walked down the paths towards where his friends stayed, a pair of eyes followed him.
Galadriel smiled at her mirror and thanked whoever could hear that she had the power to save the elf's life.
The Three Hunters Run...
(What was going through Legolas' mind?)
First Gandalf, now Boromir...The dwarf is correct, the Fellowship has failed. How are we to help Frodo and Sam if they leave us? But Merry and Pippin...
Legolas heard Aragorn's words, but they penetrated little. It was not until Aragorn commanded them to leave as much as they could behind that he actually began to comprehend his friend's words.
"Let's hunt some orc."
Legolas nearly smiled, then he glanced at the dwarf. Gimli grinned widely and yelled, "Yeah, ha, ha!" That brought a true smile to Legolas' face. To see a dwarf with such enthusiasm was not unheard of, but in front of an elf...
He breathed deeply as they followed Aragorn.
And, for once, his chest didn't hurt.
FIN...at least until the next movie...