The morning dawned clear and bright, the air alight with the sounds of the world waking up to face another day. The men were emerging from their tents, blearily rubbing their eyes and searching for cold water to try and wake themselves up. Some were clearly nursing hangovers, drink of course being one way of forgetting the trouble that you were soon to be in. Legolas emerged from his tent looking bright and rested, although his eyes looked worried and a frown creased his brow. He stepped gracefully over the slumbering form of a man outside the tent, letting the man out off the pain that would ensnare him upon waking up for as long as possible. Legolas stopped short, scanning the camp but seemed to fail to locate what he was looking for. He cocked his head to the side and closed his eyes, listening for...something. He stood this way for a good few minutes, the people around him began to get worried at the perfectly still elf and one brave man was considering shaking him awake, when Legolas' eyes suddenly flicked open and he lightly began to run towards the forest. It took him only a few moments to get there, and he stopped dead when another shape lay at his feet. Bending down, his face full of concern, he put his hand on the figure's shoulder and spoke quietly
"Aragorn? Aragorn, are you alright? Aragorn?" he shook the man's shoulder. To his surprise, Aragorn clutched onto his arm and turned his face up to the elf's, his eyes intense and flowing with tears that betrayed the turmoil that went on within his soul. Legolas felt his heart burn to see his friend in that state, it tore at his soul to realise he had no idea what was wrong with him, and no way of helping.
"Legolas! You are still alive! But you will go....you and the others....you will all die...I will be alone" and he buried his head like a child in Legolas' shoulder, taking in the comfort of the elf's embrace. They sat this way for many minutes of silence, Legolas feeling helpless and Aragorn soaking up what he knew might be his last time alone with his best friend, ruing that it would never have a chance to become more. Eventually Aragorn was composed enough to raise his head, meeting the deeply worried eyes of the elf, his head surrounded by the beautiful blond hair of a Sindar elf. He tried to stand, falling halfway there and relying on the strong hands of the elf to catch him. Aragorn finally stood to his full height and shook his head to clear it of the mournful thoughts and sleep that still engulfed him. He gave a small, weak smile at the concerned elf, and they headed back to the camp, arm-in-arm in.
Back at the camp, Aragorn immediately noticed that all preparations for sending Faramir, Gimli, Elrond and Legolas to the Other World had been made. A wizard cloaked all in brown- Aragorn supposed that this must be one of the surviving Istari, Radagast- was standing by with a intensely worried look on his face. A few elves in long cloaks also stood by, Aragorn guessed they must be the remnants of the magic-wielding elves that were all too few, although of course all elves possessed some measure of power in that way any longer. He supposed that the only people he would have really trusted in this situation would have been Gandalf, Lady Galadriel or Lord Celeborn. However, their time had passed, and he was farsighted enough to know that unless he allowed this mission to be tried, the time would soon have passed for all of them.
Faramir, Gimli and Elrond had all been set up with suitable armour to try and protect them; yet in the mind's eye of all, they knew how useless these would be against the monsters that the Others could command. Faramir shone like the near-King he was, in bronze armour hardened by the dwarves to be as tough as iron, at his side was a large broadsword and a shield with the Gondorian crest blazoned proudly. Gimli himself wore leather armour studded with iron sections, his trusty helmet on his head and his battle-axe sharpened by his side. Elrond rose majestically above both of them, his many elf years serving not to make him look old, but noble beyond belief and almost god-like, invincible. He wore plate armour, and hidden underneath this, a chain mail shirt of mithril that had been charmed for him by his daughter Arwen. At this belt was an ancient sword struck in the days even before the dark lord Sauron, which Elrond could still remember. Legolas sprang lightly over to join them, bereft of armour still as he was after spending the morning searching for, and comforting, Aragorn. He was given plate armour much like Elrond's, but decorated in a Mirkwood style with inlaid gold. A small smile as he recognised it as a gift from his father- the father who never seemed to take much interest in what he did but always seemed to know what was going on. Earlier on he has been given by Elrond a mithril shirt himself, but this he kept quiet as Elrond was unable to supply the other two with similar protection and honour, much thought they deserved it. Legolas had no sword like Faramir and Elrond, he had always shunned an ungraceful weapon that, for all his elven skills, became a clumsy instrument when put in his hand, more of a danger to himself than to any one else. On his back therefore was a fine quiver of arrows, the one presented to him by the Lady of the Golden Wood so many years before. In his hand was the bow from the same meeting, still a fine weapon and no more battle worn than it had been on the day he had been given it. At his belt, two long knives given to him by Lord Haldir, his friend and mentor in the past few years in the skills of hand-to-hand combat, staying as a guest in the dark halls of the Mirkwood palace. Legolas took his place alongside the other three, their faces all set in the same determined manner. Radagast looked around at Aragorn, who realised suddenly that this must be the time they were going, and that he was meant to brief them and say a few words of farewell. His mind blanked for the first time that he could remember; as a child even he had always known something to say, yet now, with all eyes upon him his mind threw up nothing. Playing for time, he strode over to the four and gathered them into a small group, just the five of them, and unbidden words began to come from him with no knowledge of where they came from.
"Go, go with the blessings and hopes of us all. Do not risk your lives in fruitless gains, there is time enough to die once you have come back to tell us what we need to know. Once it becomes clear that you will find no more out, or you have discovered something important, comeback immediately. If you fail to discover anything, come back all the same- we would sooner have you back bereft of information than never have you back. Now go, and hold in your hearts the love that we feel for you all"
Aragorn then pulled away from the group, and saw the whole army watching him, thousands of eyes on him, thousands of ears waiting for even the smallest sound that he would make.
"My friends, these brave souls go off without futures in their hands, and I fear not what they will do! They are heroes the like of which we may never see again; yet the like of which may be the thing that saves us all. They go with honour and our respect. Show them."
At this, a huge roar set up from the army, a war cry mingled with a cry of victory, each man praying that if only he cheered loud and long, it would somehow make the difference. Aragorn was startled suddenly by a small shape running past him. A dwarf....woman?! She ran straight up to Gimli and hugged him with all her might, sobbing into his shoulder as he held her and whispered something to her in their own tongue. Aragorn shook is head- he hadn't even known that there were any women here, let alone Gimli's wife, but he could not really stop them with their last farewell. Seeing this, another shape darted forward from the crowd, this one recognised to Aragorn's eye. The Lady Eowyn, wife of Faramir, flung herself at her husband in much the same way as the dwarf had, although her eyes were dry. Only a few steps behind her was the Lady Arwen, Aragorn's own wife, whom he was certain he had left at home with their children...she took her father Elrond into her arms and he held her like a child. Legolas looked somewhat out of place alone, and Aragorn was about to make his way over to talk with his friend when Haldir stepped forward from the crowd, making his way over to Legolas in not a desperate lover's manner, but in that of a friend who cannot bear to let the other go. They spoke in Elvish, and Aragorn could see tears at the eyes of Haldir, before the two elves embraced in a brotherly fashion, yet held for just as long as any other. Aragorn tried to pass this off that they were just close- after all, they had both lived for thousands of years, and there are only so many elves that you can meet in that time. But something told him that they shared not a normal friendship alone, that there was something more, that he could suspect but not confront. Warrior-bond relationships, he knew, had been common among the elves in the past years before him, and that even now they were carried out and known about with no great shame among the elves, seen as something normal and not to be hidden. He knew all this, and repeated it to himself over and over in his head. Yet he felt angry, betrayed, and hurt. Anger coursed through his veins as he felt he could take no more of this knowledge, and he stood and shouted to prepare to send them off.
Embraces were broken, promises made and last kisses exchanged as the four made their way over to the portal. Aragorn meant to give Legolas a cold stare, but felt his heart constrict as he looked into the elf's eyes for what might be the last time. He leaned towards him, with a quick embrace and a whispered "be careful, my friend. Gods bless". Legolas looked at him and nodded, his eyes sad but not as much as Aragorn knew his must be, his heart breaking as he could feel it was. Aragorn stepped back, and with a last look Legolas focussed his attention on the portal. Radagast called upon the arcane and unused powers to drive a hole through the portal, the first time such a tear had been made from the side of Middle Earth. A blinding flash of light, and then a shriek from Radagast, as hew realised the spell was going wrong, that there was no way for him to control the powers. Long tendrils of light snaked out and grasped the four warriors, who in the flashes looked worried, but this was nothing compared to the horror on the faces of the beholders. As the spell appeared to be ebbing away, suddenly three more tendrils crept loose, lashing out and ensnaring the first flesh it met. One grasped a rank-and-file soldier, another the elf Haldir-another flash of anger- and then another latched onto Aragorn, he could feel it drain all struggle and awareness from him as he fell into it's power and watched his home of Middle Earth fade into the distance.
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I am unsure if people like this story or not. If you do, please review or something so I know to continue it.
"Aragorn? Aragorn, are you alright? Aragorn?" he shook the man's shoulder. To his surprise, Aragorn clutched onto his arm and turned his face up to the elf's, his eyes intense and flowing with tears that betrayed the turmoil that went on within his soul. Legolas felt his heart burn to see his friend in that state, it tore at his soul to realise he had no idea what was wrong with him, and no way of helping.
"Legolas! You are still alive! But you will go....you and the others....you will all die...I will be alone" and he buried his head like a child in Legolas' shoulder, taking in the comfort of the elf's embrace. They sat this way for many minutes of silence, Legolas feeling helpless and Aragorn soaking up what he knew might be his last time alone with his best friend, ruing that it would never have a chance to become more. Eventually Aragorn was composed enough to raise his head, meeting the deeply worried eyes of the elf, his head surrounded by the beautiful blond hair of a Sindar elf. He tried to stand, falling halfway there and relying on the strong hands of the elf to catch him. Aragorn finally stood to his full height and shook his head to clear it of the mournful thoughts and sleep that still engulfed him. He gave a small, weak smile at the concerned elf, and they headed back to the camp, arm-in-arm in.
Back at the camp, Aragorn immediately noticed that all preparations for sending Faramir, Gimli, Elrond and Legolas to the Other World had been made. A wizard cloaked all in brown- Aragorn supposed that this must be one of the surviving Istari, Radagast- was standing by with a intensely worried look on his face. A few elves in long cloaks also stood by, Aragorn guessed they must be the remnants of the magic-wielding elves that were all too few, although of course all elves possessed some measure of power in that way any longer. He supposed that the only people he would have really trusted in this situation would have been Gandalf, Lady Galadriel or Lord Celeborn. However, their time had passed, and he was farsighted enough to know that unless he allowed this mission to be tried, the time would soon have passed for all of them.
Faramir, Gimli and Elrond had all been set up with suitable armour to try and protect them; yet in the mind's eye of all, they knew how useless these would be against the monsters that the Others could command. Faramir shone like the near-King he was, in bronze armour hardened by the dwarves to be as tough as iron, at his side was a large broadsword and a shield with the Gondorian crest blazoned proudly. Gimli himself wore leather armour studded with iron sections, his trusty helmet on his head and his battle-axe sharpened by his side. Elrond rose majestically above both of them, his many elf years serving not to make him look old, but noble beyond belief and almost god-like, invincible. He wore plate armour, and hidden underneath this, a chain mail shirt of mithril that had been charmed for him by his daughter Arwen. At this belt was an ancient sword struck in the days even before the dark lord Sauron, which Elrond could still remember. Legolas sprang lightly over to join them, bereft of armour still as he was after spending the morning searching for, and comforting, Aragorn. He was given plate armour much like Elrond's, but decorated in a Mirkwood style with inlaid gold. A small smile as he recognised it as a gift from his father- the father who never seemed to take much interest in what he did but always seemed to know what was going on. Earlier on he has been given by Elrond a mithril shirt himself, but this he kept quiet as Elrond was unable to supply the other two with similar protection and honour, much thought they deserved it. Legolas had no sword like Faramir and Elrond, he had always shunned an ungraceful weapon that, for all his elven skills, became a clumsy instrument when put in his hand, more of a danger to himself than to any one else. On his back therefore was a fine quiver of arrows, the one presented to him by the Lady of the Golden Wood so many years before. In his hand was the bow from the same meeting, still a fine weapon and no more battle worn than it had been on the day he had been given it. At his belt, two long knives given to him by Lord Haldir, his friend and mentor in the past few years in the skills of hand-to-hand combat, staying as a guest in the dark halls of the Mirkwood palace. Legolas took his place alongside the other three, their faces all set in the same determined manner. Radagast looked around at Aragorn, who realised suddenly that this must be the time they were going, and that he was meant to brief them and say a few words of farewell. His mind blanked for the first time that he could remember; as a child even he had always known something to say, yet now, with all eyes upon him his mind threw up nothing. Playing for time, he strode over to the four and gathered them into a small group, just the five of them, and unbidden words began to come from him with no knowledge of where they came from.
"Go, go with the blessings and hopes of us all. Do not risk your lives in fruitless gains, there is time enough to die once you have come back to tell us what we need to know. Once it becomes clear that you will find no more out, or you have discovered something important, comeback immediately. If you fail to discover anything, come back all the same- we would sooner have you back bereft of information than never have you back. Now go, and hold in your hearts the love that we feel for you all"
Aragorn then pulled away from the group, and saw the whole army watching him, thousands of eyes on him, thousands of ears waiting for even the smallest sound that he would make.
"My friends, these brave souls go off without futures in their hands, and I fear not what they will do! They are heroes the like of which we may never see again; yet the like of which may be the thing that saves us all. They go with honour and our respect. Show them."
At this, a huge roar set up from the army, a war cry mingled with a cry of victory, each man praying that if only he cheered loud and long, it would somehow make the difference. Aragorn was startled suddenly by a small shape running past him. A dwarf....woman?! She ran straight up to Gimli and hugged him with all her might, sobbing into his shoulder as he held her and whispered something to her in their own tongue. Aragorn shook is head- he hadn't even known that there were any women here, let alone Gimli's wife, but he could not really stop them with their last farewell. Seeing this, another shape darted forward from the crowd, this one recognised to Aragorn's eye. The Lady Eowyn, wife of Faramir, flung herself at her husband in much the same way as the dwarf had, although her eyes were dry. Only a few steps behind her was the Lady Arwen, Aragorn's own wife, whom he was certain he had left at home with their children...she took her father Elrond into her arms and he held her like a child. Legolas looked somewhat out of place alone, and Aragorn was about to make his way over to talk with his friend when Haldir stepped forward from the crowd, making his way over to Legolas in not a desperate lover's manner, but in that of a friend who cannot bear to let the other go. They spoke in Elvish, and Aragorn could see tears at the eyes of Haldir, before the two elves embraced in a brotherly fashion, yet held for just as long as any other. Aragorn tried to pass this off that they were just close- after all, they had both lived for thousands of years, and there are only so many elves that you can meet in that time. But something told him that they shared not a normal friendship alone, that there was something more, that he could suspect but not confront. Warrior-bond relationships, he knew, had been common among the elves in the past years before him, and that even now they were carried out and known about with no great shame among the elves, seen as something normal and not to be hidden. He knew all this, and repeated it to himself over and over in his head. Yet he felt angry, betrayed, and hurt. Anger coursed through his veins as he felt he could take no more of this knowledge, and he stood and shouted to prepare to send them off.
Embraces were broken, promises made and last kisses exchanged as the four made their way over to the portal. Aragorn meant to give Legolas a cold stare, but felt his heart constrict as he looked into the elf's eyes for what might be the last time. He leaned towards him, with a quick embrace and a whispered "be careful, my friend. Gods bless". Legolas looked at him and nodded, his eyes sad but not as much as Aragorn knew his must be, his heart breaking as he could feel it was. Aragorn stepped back, and with a last look Legolas focussed his attention on the portal. Radagast called upon the arcane and unused powers to drive a hole through the portal, the first time such a tear had been made from the side of Middle Earth. A blinding flash of light, and then a shriek from Radagast, as hew realised the spell was going wrong, that there was no way for him to control the powers. Long tendrils of light snaked out and grasped the four warriors, who in the flashes looked worried, but this was nothing compared to the horror on the faces of the beholders. As the spell appeared to be ebbing away, suddenly three more tendrils crept loose, lashing out and ensnaring the first flesh it met. One grasped a rank-and-file soldier, another the elf Haldir-another flash of anger- and then another latched onto Aragorn, he could feel it drain all struggle and awareness from him as he fell into it's power and watched his home of Middle Earth fade into the distance.
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I am unsure if people like this story or not. If you do, please review or something so I know to continue it.