1 A/N: Um, ok. After I wrote the first few paragraphs and reread them, I'd
decided I'd make this note to y'all. K, here it is ~ I want you all to
pretend that the companions felt real safe in Fangorn Forest and didn't
need to post guards. Um, well yeah… hehe. *sweatdrop and nervous laugh* ;P
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4 CHAPTER 5
The bright pinks, oranges, and yellows of the early sunrise fell slowly over the land shining softly against the treetops of Fangorn forest. The cold dew of morning upon proud green leaves, opening to the day, was soon beaten by the glowing brilliance of the sun. The rays of yellow light shone through the canopy, and the gloom of the forest was lifted, if for only a brief moment. The surrounding leaves and trees and forms of forest life gave the harsh golden rays a soft embracing green tint, and at last, the sun's early light shone innocently against the shockingly intense blue eyes of the peacefully sleeping Elf prince of Mirkwood. The purest color of blue sky could not be seen above, if so, only barely, but it was there. The welcome respite of day from the perilous nighttime caution.
With the sunrise upon him, the eyes of the archer fluttered and blinked. Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, the Elf blinked a few more times before he came to focus upon the sight in front of him. His beautiful mouth curved into a smile and his fair face contorted in utter peace and happiness. He did not mind showing his emotions plainly upon his elvish features when there was no one to see, no one to interrupt. He looked serenely upon the sight of the forest canopy above him, leaves rustling and playing in the wind, boughs swaying to their own dance and song. The princeling's smile widened as he watched dust fairies fly and dance about in the golden and green shaded shafts of sunlight shining through the treetops. The deep forest aura put his mind, body and soul at complete peace. The smell of the moist earth, the smell of far away grasses on the breeze, the feel of it as it passed over him, leading his long blond curtain of hair in its own dance, each soft strand fluttering and flowing in the cool, playful wind.
Legolas almost laughed. But though he kept his tongue, he edges of his fair blue eyes crinkled in his mirth, and his grin widened to an innocent smile.
Legolas was sure that his companions would be in slumber for a few hours yet, and so, he raised himself from his forest bed and proceeded to walk silently from their campsite. Where his path through the forest led, he knew not, but on a morning such as this, the Elf could not resist in exploration.
He breathed deeply the scents of the surrounding wood, and his sharp eyes looked curiously about him. They caught every little movement of the leaves, every fleeting color of green and gold upon the trunks of the ancient trees, every disguised animal and insect. He looked about him and felt at home, at one with the forest.
No, it was not the forest of Mirkwood, where he had grown up. They were not the same trees, nor was the course of the great river the same. But this forest seemed more home at that moment than Mirkwood ever had, and the lighthearted wood-Elf could not help himself as with a great intake of excited breath, he leaped into the great branches of the trees above him.
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With the serenity of the sunrise and the forest, Legolas had completely forgotten about his earlier dream. Which was most likely all the better. But now, as the Elf sat motionless on the high branch of a fir tree, silent as the passing breeze, watching his companions rise from their, if not comfortable –restful – slumber, it all came unbidden to his mind. He remembered it vividly, though he wished with all his being that he did not. It was similar to the one he had had while he was wounded. He did not know what they meant. The darkness of Moria, Smeagol plus Frodo and the ring; the boat and the sea of blood, the battle field where he found Gimli dead; Frodo stabbing him… it was all so real. But the archer desperately pushed the unpleasant thoughts to the back of his mind as he watched his ranger friend, whom he had known many long years, awake from his light sleep.
Legolas sighed lightly. Oh, how he wished his heart were at ease as it was that morning. He shook his head with sad smile at his wistful thinking. His heart would never be at ease again, not after this quest. Not until evil was banished from the land completely and forever. And when would that be? Legolas sighed again, heavier this time.
The time Legolas had had to himself that morning had been precious and well used. It gave him time to think. He had mused solemnly over the previous morning.
He did not know what had come over him. He supposed that he had just had the urge to comfort his companions. He had humorously showed his friends that he was perfectly fine, but he suspected no one was fooled, especially not Gimli. Legolas could not stop the grin that came to his face in memory of the comical antics his dear Dwarf-friend had displayed that morning. Never in his life had the Elf heard Gimli wail that desperately. Legolas chuckled to himself. But his laughter died as another thought came unbidden to his mind. He remembered gravely his weakness the few moments after his stunt. The archer was angry with himself for having such weakness. He had been injured before on expeditions through Mirkwood. This was no different.
Legolas lowered his eyes to study the intricate lines of the wood under him, carved by time. He knew he was lying to himself, this was different and he knew it. He knew his companions suspected something; Aragorn might even have figured it out. Legolas smiled to himself. Aragorn would make a wonderful future king. He was learned and master in the ways of the Elves: tracking, healing, perception… no, his senses were not as keen as an actual Elf, but being raised by them, his senses were surely close.
Legolas knew of the concerned looks, though he tried to disguise them, that Gimli shot him every once and a while as they traveled carefully through the forest. He heard the quickening of Gandalf's heart whenever he glanced at the Elf. He interpreted Aragorn's careful actions toward him. He understood why they were worried, but he also believed it needless.
Legolas finally stirred himself from his thoughts as the other two hunters awoke from their slumber. Aragorn was already packed and had started in putting together a quick breakfast. He had glanced at the surrounding forest many a time, searching for the Elf he had not found upon the ground when he had woken. His storm gray eyes were anxious, but he busied him self with work around their camp. Legolas had already gone back earlier and packed his own things, and in this the ranger found comfort that his friend was safe. But still he searched vainly the trees with his eyes. Legolas smiled grimly to himself, knowing no Human eye could find the figure of a disguised Elf in the forest.
Suddenly though, at the sight of Aragorn's troubled eyes turned toward the surrounding Wood, something spurred in Legolas' memory. Where had he seen that look before? It was not the thoughtful, troubled look that his mortal friend wore often, but something different, something Legolas and Legolas alone had seen somewhere. It held worry, it held hope, it held… fear. The Elf that sat on his haunches in the branches of the trees tensed visibly, and a keen eye would have noticed the slight movement behind the leaves of the forest. Legolas eyes widened, his intense, pure blue orbs staring fixedly at the form of Arathorn's son below him. Legolas remembered where he had seen those eyes.
Last night…
Legolas frowned at his realization. Aragorn had been there last night when he had suddenly woken from his horrible dream. He shut his eyes tightly at the memory of the pain he had undergone. He had felt as if his whole body had been on fire, he could not control his own limbs, he could only gaze wide eyed at his dear friend, standing terrified, horrified in front of him. He remembered how the darkness had griped his soul, how it had taken him deep into the evil places of the world and his mind.
Legolas felt himself bite his lip and clench his hands until his knuckles were white. This memory was too hard, and Aragorn had been there to witness it. The ranger would have to be incredibly dense to not know something was wrong with him now.
Finally, Legolas only shook his head and desperately pushed the memory far into the recesses of his mind, where he could easily forget it and focus on the present.
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The Elf must have suddenly deemed it time to enter the camp again for just as Gimli was about to go looking for his ever elusive friend, there he was standing right in front of him. The Dwarf flinched so hard he could have broken his own axe had he been holding it in his hands. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from crying out in surprise.
Legolas smiled at the distress he could visibly see upon his friends face. This was of course the desired affect he had intended as he had leaped silently from the boughs to land in front of the Dwarf. He had nearly frightened Gimli out of his wits. Legolas could not hold back a chuckle as he watched the changing looks upon his friends face as it melted from utter surprise to fuming anger. The mischievous Elf could hardly hold back a laugh, but he sullenly let his face turn neutral as he met the disapproving gaze of Aragorn and the good-natured amused look upon Gandalf's wizened features.
Legolas smiled lightly, trying to ease his Human friend's worry, but Aragorn only frowned at him, eyes speaking to him more than words could. An uneasy silence settled thickly over the camp and the grin upon the son of Thranduil's fair face slowly melted away. Legolas' mind raced – should he speak?
The ranger's eyes battle with those of the Elf, but neither would look away. They traded silent words with one another – harsh they be, but real. Their forged friend ship over long years and deep knowledge of each other played thin. It was a battle of will. One – Aragorn – wished for Legolas to speak of this dilemma and tell them what could be done, how he was injured; his eyes were of all concern – pleading. The other – Legolas – spoke of denial and exasperation, how he was perfectly fine, how he wished for the ranger to leave him be; his eyes were of pride and annoyance.
From the corner of his eye, Legolas caught Gimli watching, sharply turning his head from Human to Elf, suspicious, worried angry… of all things confused. And he could just see Gandalf shake his head slowly, sadly. Both knew this was getting them nowhere – and that it did nothing for their poor hobbit friends. But still, neither relented their struggle.
Legolas knew of what Aragorn pleaded to him, but with all his being he would refuse. Elves were not so weak; he would surely heal soon. Gandalf and Gimli had no need to know. Finally, the future King of Gondor turned his eyes away and slumped his shoulder, utterly defeated. Legolas' icy blue eyes blazed after him as he turned away to face the other two of the remaining fellowship.
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"Legolas, what is wrong? I have never seen such a defiant look in your eyes as you glared at Aragorn then. Has something happened that I should know of?" Gimli's eyes narrowed as he looked up at his Elf friend. They had been talking lightly and softly as they walked through the Wood, set out once again, when he had decided to bring up the subject of that morning.
Legolas had been unusually quiet, as he usually felt compelled to break into song when surrounded by the healthy forest on a day such as this. But at his comment, Gimli received only an unseemly grunt from him friend. Gimli frowned, only slightly put off at his companion's lack of answer. He looked up and his deep brown eyes firmly locked with the shocking pools of blue of the Elf beside him. There it was again: that pleading look. It was well disguised, but distinguishable. Only this time, there was a glint of malice associated with it, as though Legolas was exasperated with the Dwarf, annoyed. It was quite unlike the calm, mild, light-hearted, mischievous Legolas Gimli knew and loved. Gimli looked up sadly and only with a hint of anger at this new, cold elf that had replaced his dear friend in the last few days. 'Ever since he was shot with that damned arrow…' the Dwarf thought to himself.
"Aragorn, would you accompany me for a moment, I wish to speak with you." Gandalf's gruff voice sailed across the road to the ranger. The only response he received was a quick nod and brisk steps leading toward he Maia. Legolas turned his head sharply to look at his Dwarven companion, his curtain of platinum blond hair flowing like silk around his features as he turned his face. Gimli exchanged the questioning glance shot toward him.
But whatever god their was watching over Ilúvatar's children, and ruled over the timing of events, seemed to think it ironic to choose that exact moment to pick on a single Elf named Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil. For at that moment, when Mithrandir called the heir to Gondor to him to speak softly of Legolas' plight, that devious god chose for Legolas' illness to take control of his body and mind, rendering him senseless in unimaginable pain. But before the fair Elf's body convulsed and he passed out unto the earthen floor, one thought ran through his head. 'Darkness… all around me. I feel… confined. It is as though I am in the dreaded Moria once again! This cannot be! My dream…?
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Gimli watched in horror as his dear friend's features contorted in a nameless pain, an unmentionable horror, his eyes filled with fear… and dread. The dwarf managed to run to his companion's side as he fell, calling the names of his fellow hunters to him.
Gimli watched, bewildered, mortified, terrified, as Legolas' clear, bright blue Elven eyes seemed to turn gray, then darker, then… black. It was as if they were slowly filling with he black ink of evil.
What was happening? Aragorn and Gandalf came to stand beside their stricken Dwarven companion, and looked down upon the fallen archer upon the forest floor.
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A/N: Hey all, thanks SOOO much for the reviews, hope you like this chapter. ( Another is coming soon, I promise. I hadn't thought I would have much time to write this with finals and all, but I seem to just make time (while not finishing my assignments, hehe). I'm just addicted to this story!
ANNNNNYWAY… I really appreciate all the reviews. MORE MORE!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Sorry about the shortness of all my chapters, I'm gonna try and fix that. ^.^ later.
Lady V ~ I fixed the little elf / Elf problem. ;P Hope you like the rest of it!
Tara ~ This next chapter is for YOU my friend. :D I'm so glad you like it. I swear, you reviews turn my frown UPSIDE DOWN! (
Analorien ~ Thank you for the wonderful review my friend. MORE!
Blayze ~ I appreciate your review SOOOOO much you have no idea. It really made my day when I read it. I am SO glad you like my fic. (YAY, I have a fan!) But, please don't hunt me down… *fearful voice* LOL
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4 CHAPTER 5
The bright pinks, oranges, and yellows of the early sunrise fell slowly over the land shining softly against the treetops of Fangorn forest. The cold dew of morning upon proud green leaves, opening to the day, was soon beaten by the glowing brilliance of the sun. The rays of yellow light shone through the canopy, and the gloom of the forest was lifted, if for only a brief moment. The surrounding leaves and trees and forms of forest life gave the harsh golden rays a soft embracing green tint, and at last, the sun's early light shone innocently against the shockingly intense blue eyes of the peacefully sleeping Elf prince of Mirkwood. The purest color of blue sky could not be seen above, if so, only barely, but it was there. The welcome respite of day from the perilous nighttime caution.
With the sunrise upon him, the eyes of the archer fluttered and blinked. Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, the Elf blinked a few more times before he came to focus upon the sight in front of him. His beautiful mouth curved into a smile and his fair face contorted in utter peace and happiness. He did not mind showing his emotions plainly upon his elvish features when there was no one to see, no one to interrupt. He looked serenely upon the sight of the forest canopy above him, leaves rustling and playing in the wind, boughs swaying to their own dance and song. The princeling's smile widened as he watched dust fairies fly and dance about in the golden and green shaded shafts of sunlight shining through the treetops. The deep forest aura put his mind, body and soul at complete peace. The smell of the moist earth, the smell of far away grasses on the breeze, the feel of it as it passed over him, leading his long blond curtain of hair in its own dance, each soft strand fluttering and flowing in the cool, playful wind.
Legolas almost laughed. But though he kept his tongue, he edges of his fair blue eyes crinkled in his mirth, and his grin widened to an innocent smile.
Legolas was sure that his companions would be in slumber for a few hours yet, and so, he raised himself from his forest bed and proceeded to walk silently from their campsite. Where his path through the forest led, he knew not, but on a morning such as this, the Elf could not resist in exploration.
He breathed deeply the scents of the surrounding wood, and his sharp eyes looked curiously about him. They caught every little movement of the leaves, every fleeting color of green and gold upon the trunks of the ancient trees, every disguised animal and insect. He looked about him and felt at home, at one with the forest.
No, it was not the forest of Mirkwood, where he had grown up. They were not the same trees, nor was the course of the great river the same. But this forest seemed more home at that moment than Mirkwood ever had, and the lighthearted wood-Elf could not help himself as with a great intake of excited breath, he leaped into the great branches of the trees above him.
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With the serenity of the sunrise and the forest, Legolas had completely forgotten about his earlier dream. Which was most likely all the better. But now, as the Elf sat motionless on the high branch of a fir tree, silent as the passing breeze, watching his companions rise from their, if not comfortable –restful – slumber, it all came unbidden to his mind. He remembered it vividly, though he wished with all his being that he did not. It was similar to the one he had had while he was wounded. He did not know what they meant. The darkness of Moria, Smeagol plus Frodo and the ring; the boat and the sea of blood, the battle field where he found Gimli dead; Frodo stabbing him… it was all so real. But the archer desperately pushed the unpleasant thoughts to the back of his mind as he watched his ranger friend, whom he had known many long years, awake from his light sleep.
Legolas sighed lightly. Oh, how he wished his heart were at ease as it was that morning. He shook his head with sad smile at his wistful thinking. His heart would never be at ease again, not after this quest. Not until evil was banished from the land completely and forever. And when would that be? Legolas sighed again, heavier this time.
The time Legolas had had to himself that morning had been precious and well used. It gave him time to think. He had mused solemnly over the previous morning.
He did not know what had come over him. He supposed that he had just had the urge to comfort his companions. He had humorously showed his friends that he was perfectly fine, but he suspected no one was fooled, especially not Gimli. Legolas could not stop the grin that came to his face in memory of the comical antics his dear Dwarf-friend had displayed that morning. Never in his life had the Elf heard Gimli wail that desperately. Legolas chuckled to himself. But his laughter died as another thought came unbidden to his mind. He remembered gravely his weakness the few moments after his stunt. The archer was angry with himself for having such weakness. He had been injured before on expeditions through Mirkwood. This was no different.
Legolas lowered his eyes to study the intricate lines of the wood under him, carved by time. He knew he was lying to himself, this was different and he knew it. He knew his companions suspected something; Aragorn might even have figured it out. Legolas smiled to himself. Aragorn would make a wonderful future king. He was learned and master in the ways of the Elves: tracking, healing, perception… no, his senses were not as keen as an actual Elf, but being raised by them, his senses were surely close.
Legolas knew of the concerned looks, though he tried to disguise them, that Gimli shot him every once and a while as they traveled carefully through the forest. He heard the quickening of Gandalf's heart whenever he glanced at the Elf. He interpreted Aragorn's careful actions toward him. He understood why they were worried, but he also believed it needless.
Legolas finally stirred himself from his thoughts as the other two hunters awoke from their slumber. Aragorn was already packed and had started in putting together a quick breakfast. He had glanced at the surrounding forest many a time, searching for the Elf he had not found upon the ground when he had woken. His storm gray eyes were anxious, but he busied him self with work around their camp. Legolas had already gone back earlier and packed his own things, and in this the ranger found comfort that his friend was safe. But still he searched vainly the trees with his eyes. Legolas smiled grimly to himself, knowing no Human eye could find the figure of a disguised Elf in the forest.
Suddenly though, at the sight of Aragorn's troubled eyes turned toward the surrounding Wood, something spurred in Legolas' memory. Where had he seen that look before? It was not the thoughtful, troubled look that his mortal friend wore often, but something different, something Legolas and Legolas alone had seen somewhere. It held worry, it held hope, it held… fear. The Elf that sat on his haunches in the branches of the trees tensed visibly, and a keen eye would have noticed the slight movement behind the leaves of the forest. Legolas eyes widened, his intense, pure blue orbs staring fixedly at the form of Arathorn's son below him. Legolas remembered where he had seen those eyes.
Last night…
Legolas frowned at his realization. Aragorn had been there last night when he had suddenly woken from his horrible dream. He shut his eyes tightly at the memory of the pain he had undergone. He had felt as if his whole body had been on fire, he could not control his own limbs, he could only gaze wide eyed at his dear friend, standing terrified, horrified in front of him. He remembered how the darkness had griped his soul, how it had taken him deep into the evil places of the world and his mind.
Legolas felt himself bite his lip and clench his hands until his knuckles were white. This memory was too hard, and Aragorn had been there to witness it. The ranger would have to be incredibly dense to not know something was wrong with him now.
Finally, Legolas only shook his head and desperately pushed the memory far into the recesses of his mind, where he could easily forget it and focus on the present.
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The Elf must have suddenly deemed it time to enter the camp again for just as Gimli was about to go looking for his ever elusive friend, there he was standing right in front of him. The Dwarf flinched so hard he could have broken his own axe had he been holding it in his hands. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from crying out in surprise.
Legolas smiled at the distress he could visibly see upon his friends face. This was of course the desired affect he had intended as he had leaped silently from the boughs to land in front of the Dwarf. He had nearly frightened Gimli out of his wits. Legolas could not hold back a chuckle as he watched the changing looks upon his friends face as it melted from utter surprise to fuming anger. The mischievous Elf could hardly hold back a laugh, but he sullenly let his face turn neutral as he met the disapproving gaze of Aragorn and the good-natured amused look upon Gandalf's wizened features.
Legolas smiled lightly, trying to ease his Human friend's worry, but Aragorn only frowned at him, eyes speaking to him more than words could. An uneasy silence settled thickly over the camp and the grin upon the son of Thranduil's fair face slowly melted away. Legolas' mind raced – should he speak?
The ranger's eyes battle with those of the Elf, but neither would look away. They traded silent words with one another – harsh they be, but real. Their forged friend ship over long years and deep knowledge of each other played thin. It was a battle of will. One – Aragorn – wished for Legolas to speak of this dilemma and tell them what could be done, how he was injured; his eyes were of all concern – pleading. The other – Legolas – spoke of denial and exasperation, how he was perfectly fine, how he wished for the ranger to leave him be; his eyes were of pride and annoyance.
From the corner of his eye, Legolas caught Gimli watching, sharply turning his head from Human to Elf, suspicious, worried angry… of all things confused. And he could just see Gandalf shake his head slowly, sadly. Both knew this was getting them nowhere – and that it did nothing for their poor hobbit friends. But still, neither relented their struggle.
Legolas knew of what Aragorn pleaded to him, but with all his being he would refuse. Elves were not so weak; he would surely heal soon. Gandalf and Gimli had no need to know. Finally, the future King of Gondor turned his eyes away and slumped his shoulder, utterly defeated. Legolas' icy blue eyes blazed after him as he turned away to face the other two of the remaining fellowship.
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"Legolas, what is wrong? I have never seen such a defiant look in your eyes as you glared at Aragorn then. Has something happened that I should know of?" Gimli's eyes narrowed as he looked up at his Elf friend. They had been talking lightly and softly as they walked through the Wood, set out once again, when he had decided to bring up the subject of that morning.
Legolas had been unusually quiet, as he usually felt compelled to break into song when surrounded by the healthy forest on a day such as this. But at his comment, Gimli received only an unseemly grunt from him friend. Gimli frowned, only slightly put off at his companion's lack of answer. He looked up and his deep brown eyes firmly locked with the shocking pools of blue of the Elf beside him. There it was again: that pleading look. It was well disguised, but distinguishable. Only this time, there was a glint of malice associated with it, as though Legolas was exasperated with the Dwarf, annoyed. It was quite unlike the calm, mild, light-hearted, mischievous Legolas Gimli knew and loved. Gimli looked up sadly and only with a hint of anger at this new, cold elf that had replaced his dear friend in the last few days. 'Ever since he was shot with that damned arrow…' the Dwarf thought to himself.
"Aragorn, would you accompany me for a moment, I wish to speak with you." Gandalf's gruff voice sailed across the road to the ranger. The only response he received was a quick nod and brisk steps leading toward he Maia. Legolas turned his head sharply to look at his Dwarven companion, his curtain of platinum blond hair flowing like silk around his features as he turned his face. Gimli exchanged the questioning glance shot toward him.
But whatever god their was watching over Ilúvatar's children, and ruled over the timing of events, seemed to think it ironic to choose that exact moment to pick on a single Elf named Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil. For at that moment, when Mithrandir called the heir to Gondor to him to speak softly of Legolas' plight, that devious god chose for Legolas' illness to take control of his body and mind, rendering him senseless in unimaginable pain. But before the fair Elf's body convulsed and he passed out unto the earthen floor, one thought ran through his head. 'Darkness… all around me. I feel… confined. It is as though I am in the dreaded Moria once again! This cannot be! My dream…?
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Gimli watched in horror as his dear friend's features contorted in a nameless pain, an unmentionable horror, his eyes filled with fear… and dread. The dwarf managed to run to his companion's side as he fell, calling the names of his fellow hunters to him.
Gimli watched, bewildered, mortified, terrified, as Legolas' clear, bright blue Elven eyes seemed to turn gray, then darker, then… black. It was as if they were slowly filling with he black ink of evil.
What was happening? Aragorn and Gandalf came to stand beside their stricken Dwarven companion, and looked down upon the fallen archer upon the forest floor.
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A/N: Hey all, thanks SOOO much for the reviews, hope you like this chapter. ( Another is coming soon, I promise. I hadn't thought I would have much time to write this with finals and all, but I seem to just make time (while not finishing my assignments, hehe). I'm just addicted to this story!
ANNNNNYWAY… I really appreciate all the reviews. MORE MORE!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Sorry about the shortness of all my chapters, I'm gonna try and fix that. ^.^ later.
Lady V ~ I fixed the little elf / Elf problem. ;P Hope you like the rest of it!
Tara ~ This next chapter is for YOU my friend. :D I'm so glad you like it. I swear, you reviews turn my frown UPSIDE DOWN! (
Analorien ~ Thank you for the wonderful review my friend. MORE!
Blayze ~ I appreciate your review SOOOOO much you have no idea. It really made my day when I read it. I am SO glad you like my fic. (YAY, I have a fan!) But, please don't hunt me down… *fearful voice* LOL