Hi! This is my first LotR fic - I decided to write it to practice my
writing as I cannot come up with original plots - so I decided to construct
a smaller one around Tolkien's. Please do not be put off by the length of
it! Reviews will help me improve, and perhaps after a while, I will be able
to attempt my own original story.but let us not look too far ahead. Enjoy!
Hidden in Imladris
A light loomed ahead, past the shiny black silhouettes of the trees. The light kindled the rain into a million streaks of falling stars. The rider urged his white mare along the muddy, bracken-strewn path. Lifting one trespassing branch to the side, murmuring a soft command to the horse; it quickened to a canter. He peered curiously at the first sign of civilisation he had seen in months.
Rain blinded the vision, encasing Rivendell in sheets of raging water. Spluttering, the arrival dismounted led the horse as close to the shelter of the house as possible, then ran up to the open porch. A hooded elf appeared, and explained he was the hostler. Rubbing down the white mare and whispering, almost singing, soothing sounds, he led it to where the stranger could only presume was the stables.
Waiting on the porch, the rider shrugged underneath his cloak, trying to shift some of the dampness off his shoulders. The ornate door opened. Another elf took his hand and pulled him in, laughing.
"Galad nin, (light for me - sorry) I didn't realise I would arrive his late; or that it would rain for that matter!"
The elf grinned, "Don't apologise! Úranlye hi dú - esteo, pedo, lasto, lino - ú eglo ilye mornië, an hi dú nalye mí marello Elrond. (Wander no more this night - rest, speak, listen, sing - but leave your shadows, for this night you are in the house of Elrond) " Pointing down one corridor, he laughed and danced away.
***
"Man dú, (Good night) Eludir!" Legolas bade his friend goodnight, and left the brilliantly lit hall, closing the door behind him, the laughter and dancing with it. He slumped against the wall, breathing in the silence for a while.
His elven ears caught something. Now he was alert. Along the corridor he heard, the clumping of booted feet. Curious, and slightly cautious, he ran light-footed towards the sound.
Seeing a cloaked figure, he stopped, mid-stride. The stranger had a lithe seeming figure and was slightly smaller than he. But from what he could see through the wet folds of clothing, he met Legolas with a defiance that sounded in his stature. Confidence showing in the way that he held his shoulders.
"Daro! (Halt!) What man walks the halls of Rivendell, with his face hidden in shadow?" Legolas voiced the challenge.
"I shall do as I please Eldar (elf), why should it concern you?" A rich voice answered. That answer grated at Legolas, however Legolas smiled inwardly as the youth disguised his young voice with false gruffness. But even excepting that, there was something about him that Legolas could not quite discern.
"It is the rule for all strange men who enter Rivendell." Legolas persisted, becoming more and more irritated by the youth's manner.
He seemed to chuckle, and then he spoke. "Well then, these rules do not apply to me!"
That retort sparked the rage within the elf. "To the duelling yards, then."
Without a reply, the youth followed him to the yards. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the mud was slippery. Checking that the young man was ready, he challenged him, "Then draw sword, mortal, so I may teach you some manners! Has man so little years now that he has not the time to learn politeness?"
"So it will be. Your ignorance, I could tolerate. But careless insults I will no longer stand!" They drew simultaneously, into on guard position. The man lunged. Legolas parried, surprised at his miscalculation of the youth's speed and agility. He noted however, that there was less strength holding the sword than he would have imagined, a weakness, in some ways.
The man began an overhead blow which Legolas countered and in the same movement aimed the blade towards his opponent's side. But he was parried with a cleverly small movement. However Legolas had discovered something more - the youth was tired, and although he was well conserving his energy with neat, light attacks, he already was beginning to slow.
Suddenly Legolas saw an opening. He feinted to draw the youth's sword and attention even further astray. Then, quickly, he lunged forward. But as the youth stepped back, he faltered, stumbling and slipping in the mud, and fell. Legolas's blow, that had been directed to his opponent's side, instead caught him on the right shoulder and tore up, slashing his hood. And as he fell, hood revealing the face, Legolas realised his mistake. Thudding to the ground, his defeated opponent still looked at him, as if still able to kill him then and there.
Indignation reddened her cheeks, but her chin was thrust stubbornly forward. Then Legolas saw his mistake was doubled, as he looked into her brown eyes. Flecks of green elven light shone within them, like blades of new green grass on a summer's day, but no warmth radiated from them now, as she looked upon him sternly. Those eyes pierced his very heart, pinning it like an arrow to a tree. A grey hue wreathed through them like mist, and in it seemed to be wisdom of many days - far more than the twenty-five or so years that she bore. Upon her brow a simple golden circlet bound a red jewel. With her hood fallen, he could now see her hair, that cascaded in curling waves to her shoulder blades. It seemed like the Sun shone with gold caress on her hair. Even her quickened breathing seemed to flow.
Legolas beheld her with shame, but overall, awe. Rushing to her side he said earnestly, "Vana híril, galad nin! (Fair lady, sorry!) With your face hidden, I didn't realise." He offered a helping arm.
She raised a dark eyebrow clearly annoyed, "Or was it because I was your match in a duel?" Shaking his proffered arm away, she got up herself. Her voice was like a perilous song, crescendoing to meet her anger.
"Well you did nothing to stop my challenge!" Legolas argued, "And you could have used some manners!"
"I didn't like your arrogant manner, and the fact you assumed I was a man. You should keep you prejudice to yourself!"
"I normally have no prejudice, but your lack of manners grated at me! In the house of your host you shouldn't have enflamed the situation. At least you could have refused my challenge!" Legolas stopped, realising he may have gone too far. They were shouting by now.
"At least?! And lost my honour? Do you think I am beneath honour?" She paused, then spoke gravely. "You deny any prejudice, but I wonder how deep it does go?" Her eyes flashed, and she seemed to swell with hidden power that could not be accounted for with anger. But it was pushed back down by some will inside her, she seemed to shrink down from the towering elven sorceress she had become. Laughing insultingly, she shrugged, "Besides, I need the practice."
Legolas struggled for politeness. He regained it for the while and flourished a bow. "Mae govannen híril, man nalye? (Well met lady, who are you?)" He quirked an eyebrow.
"Nin esse na Elauriel Valorlindë mí lambar Eldareva ú im Kathryn Taurrandiriel i peredhil (My name is Elauriel Valorlindë in the elvish tongue but I am Kathryn daughter of Taurrandir the half-elf)." She curtsied gracefully despite her breeches. "Ar nalye? (And you?)"
"Im Legolas Thranduilion. (I am Legolas son of Thranduil)" He smiled, leaning forward to take her hand. "Esto mãn, vana hírin! Namárië. (Rest well, fair lady! Farewell!)" He kissed it, and let the hand slip out of his grasp as he slowly walked away, still looking into her eyes.
Still in a thunderous mood, Kathryn flew out of the yards back inside, a whirlwind of anger and frustration. But she slowed, as the beauty of this wondrous place began to seep into her mind. The laughter and singing trickled in like a golden stream, calming her. Fair these folk were, like divine angels of light, but earthly in laughter and dancing. Nothing from her isolated living in the ruins of Angmar could amount to a flower in this place. Sighing with longing, her mother had often told her of the elven dwellings she had left for her husband. And now she could see why her mother had pined so. Only now did she understand how lonely she had been. Joy filled the gaps loneliness had left her with: she was content. Smiling, she saw indeed that the house of Elrond was 'a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep, or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all'. Her mother, Elnaldiriel had once laughed and told Kathryn of a 'silly hobbit' that had spoken those words once; but Kathryn realised that even those simple words summed up Rivendell almost entirely, even though what a 'hobbit' was, she had no idea.
Reaching her room, she thought of nothing but sleep. There, she undressed, wincing at the gash in her arm, and slid into bed.
Hidden in Imladris
A light loomed ahead, past the shiny black silhouettes of the trees. The light kindled the rain into a million streaks of falling stars. The rider urged his white mare along the muddy, bracken-strewn path. Lifting one trespassing branch to the side, murmuring a soft command to the horse; it quickened to a canter. He peered curiously at the first sign of civilisation he had seen in months.
Rain blinded the vision, encasing Rivendell in sheets of raging water. Spluttering, the arrival dismounted led the horse as close to the shelter of the house as possible, then ran up to the open porch. A hooded elf appeared, and explained he was the hostler. Rubbing down the white mare and whispering, almost singing, soothing sounds, he led it to where the stranger could only presume was the stables.
Waiting on the porch, the rider shrugged underneath his cloak, trying to shift some of the dampness off his shoulders. The ornate door opened. Another elf took his hand and pulled him in, laughing.
"Galad nin, (light for me - sorry) I didn't realise I would arrive his late; or that it would rain for that matter!"
The elf grinned, "Don't apologise! Úranlye hi dú - esteo, pedo, lasto, lino - ú eglo ilye mornië, an hi dú nalye mí marello Elrond. (Wander no more this night - rest, speak, listen, sing - but leave your shadows, for this night you are in the house of Elrond) " Pointing down one corridor, he laughed and danced away.
***
"Man dú, (Good night) Eludir!" Legolas bade his friend goodnight, and left the brilliantly lit hall, closing the door behind him, the laughter and dancing with it. He slumped against the wall, breathing in the silence for a while.
His elven ears caught something. Now he was alert. Along the corridor he heard, the clumping of booted feet. Curious, and slightly cautious, he ran light-footed towards the sound.
Seeing a cloaked figure, he stopped, mid-stride. The stranger had a lithe seeming figure and was slightly smaller than he. But from what he could see through the wet folds of clothing, he met Legolas with a defiance that sounded in his stature. Confidence showing in the way that he held his shoulders.
"Daro! (Halt!) What man walks the halls of Rivendell, with his face hidden in shadow?" Legolas voiced the challenge.
"I shall do as I please Eldar (elf), why should it concern you?" A rich voice answered. That answer grated at Legolas, however Legolas smiled inwardly as the youth disguised his young voice with false gruffness. But even excepting that, there was something about him that Legolas could not quite discern.
"It is the rule for all strange men who enter Rivendell." Legolas persisted, becoming more and more irritated by the youth's manner.
He seemed to chuckle, and then he spoke. "Well then, these rules do not apply to me!"
That retort sparked the rage within the elf. "To the duelling yards, then."
Without a reply, the youth followed him to the yards. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the mud was slippery. Checking that the young man was ready, he challenged him, "Then draw sword, mortal, so I may teach you some manners! Has man so little years now that he has not the time to learn politeness?"
"So it will be. Your ignorance, I could tolerate. But careless insults I will no longer stand!" They drew simultaneously, into on guard position. The man lunged. Legolas parried, surprised at his miscalculation of the youth's speed and agility. He noted however, that there was less strength holding the sword than he would have imagined, a weakness, in some ways.
The man began an overhead blow which Legolas countered and in the same movement aimed the blade towards his opponent's side. But he was parried with a cleverly small movement. However Legolas had discovered something more - the youth was tired, and although he was well conserving his energy with neat, light attacks, he already was beginning to slow.
Suddenly Legolas saw an opening. He feinted to draw the youth's sword and attention even further astray. Then, quickly, he lunged forward. But as the youth stepped back, he faltered, stumbling and slipping in the mud, and fell. Legolas's blow, that had been directed to his opponent's side, instead caught him on the right shoulder and tore up, slashing his hood. And as he fell, hood revealing the face, Legolas realised his mistake. Thudding to the ground, his defeated opponent still looked at him, as if still able to kill him then and there.
Indignation reddened her cheeks, but her chin was thrust stubbornly forward. Then Legolas saw his mistake was doubled, as he looked into her brown eyes. Flecks of green elven light shone within them, like blades of new green grass on a summer's day, but no warmth radiated from them now, as she looked upon him sternly. Those eyes pierced his very heart, pinning it like an arrow to a tree. A grey hue wreathed through them like mist, and in it seemed to be wisdom of many days - far more than the twenty-five or so years that she bore. Upon her brow a simple golden circlet bound a red jewel. With her hood fallen, he could now see her hair, that cascaded in curling waves to her shoulder blades. It seemed like the Sun shone with gold caress on her hair. Even her quickened breathing seemed to flow.
Legolas beheld her with shame, but overall, awe. Rushing to her side he said earnestly, "Vana híril, galad nin! (Fair lady, sorry!) With your face hidden, I didn't realise." He offered a helping arm.
She raised a dark eyebrow clearly annoyed, "Or was it because I was your match in a duel?" Shaking his proffered arm away, she got up herself. Her voice was like a perilous song, crescendoing to meet her anger.
"Well you did nothing to stop my challenge!" Legolas argued, "And you could have used some manners!"
"I didn't like your arrogant manner, and the fact you assumed I was a man. You should keep you prejudice to yourself!"
"I normally have no prejudice, but your lack of manners grated at me! In the house of your host you shouldn't have enflamed the situation. At least you could have refused my challenge!" Legolas stopped, realising he may have gone too far. They were shouting by now.
"At least?! And lost my honour? Do you think I am beneath honour?" She paused, then spoke gravely. "You deny any prejudice, but I wonder how deep it does go?" Her eyes flashed, and she seemed to swell with hidden power that could not be accounted for with anger. But it was pushed back down by some will inside her, she seemed to shrink down from the towering elven sorceress she had become. Laughing insultingly, she shrugged, "Besides, I need the practice."
Legolas struggled for politeness. He regained it for the while and flourished a bow. "Mae govannen híril, man nalye? (Well met lady, who are you?)" He quirked an eyebrow.
"Nin esse na Elauriel Valorlindë mí lambar Eldareva ú im Kathryn Taurrandiriel i peredhil (My name is Elauriel Valorlindë in the elvish tongue but I am Kathryn daughter of Taurrandir the half-elf)." She curtsied gracefully despite her breeches. "Ar nalye? (And you?)"
"Im Legolas Thranduilion. (I am Legolas son of Thranduil)" He smiled, leaning forward to take her hand. "Esto mãn, vana hírin! Namárië. (Rest well, fair lady! Farewell!)" He kissed it, and let the hand slip out of his grasp as he slowly walked away, still looking into her eyes.
Still in a thunderous mood, Kathryn flew out of the yards back inside, a whirlwind of anger and frustration. But she slowed, as the beauty of this wondrous place began to seep into her mind. The laughter and singing trickled in like a golden stream, calming her. Fair these folk were, like divine angels of light, but earthly in laughter and dancing. Nothing from her isolated living in the ruins of Angmar could amount to a flower in this place. Sighing with longing, her mother had often told her of the elven dwellings she had left for her husband. And now she could see why her mother had pined so. Only now did she understand how lonely she had been. Joy filled the gaps loneliness had left her with: she was content. Smiling, she saw indeed that the house of Elrond was 'a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep, or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all'. Her mother, Elnaldiriel had once laughed and told Kathryn of a 'silly hobbit' that had spoken those words once; but Kathryn realised that even those simple words summed up Rivendell almost entirely, even though what a 'hobbit' was, she had no idea.
Reaching her room, she thought of nothing but sleep. There, she undressed, wincing at the gash in her arm, and slid into bed.