Dragon Witch
By Nezumi
Chapter Nine: Brook Bridge Siren
The difference between dreaming and reality is that one is asleep, and the other is awake. Who is to say the difference between them? How do you know if you're awake or dreaming? Or when you're awake, supposedly, yet the scene out of your dreams or when you're dream but its feels so real, tastes so real, you certainly can't be dreaming. So are you awake when you read this? Or are you in your dreams?
"At the brook's bridge…" a voice murmured through his head all day, while Gandalf rambled the current situation to Merry and Pippin. They too seemed bored by it. Gazing at the light fixture above the great table, he founded himself thinking of the shiny black hair that cascaded over her tan limbs, and the pinkish full lips, and…
"Legolas!"
"Hn?" he asked, snapping his head towards Gandalf, displeased at an interruption with his thoughts, finally somewhat pure, of Grian.
"An elf's heart is not disturbed into the depths of love often, but it always steers him right, only in one instance was that not true," Gandalf nodded, then looked out the window, winking. "Its almost sundown."
Legolas' eyes became wide, as he leapt out the door. Pippin was quite puzzled, and about to ask a question, until Merry elbowed him grinning wildly. "Mister…. Legolas?" George questioned and then entered the hall shrugging. It wasn't his place to meddle in matters of the heart, after all he was but 18 years old, an infant in comparison to his 2, 931* year old guardian. "Ah… he's going out meet Grian," he reported cheerfully to 3 of his father's friend.
"Grian?" Pippin inquired. "Is she a knock-out?"
"I think you've had a wee bit much ale, Mr. Took," George said, and climbing up beside the large hobbit. "But Grian she's beautiful, even more so than Lady Arwen, and that be hard to imagine!"
Gandalf smiled under his hat, at least the elf had found someone to ease his sorrow, for the old wizard could find no tangible soul to hold onto. Such a being would relieve him from the news he would have to tell his friend. Kill Thranduil. It was two simple words to roll off his tongue, but the consequences would be severe. The king was the channel she funneled her power through, Gandalf had determined. Therefore by exterminating him, she would be forced into physical form for an attack. However, it would take its toll upon the son of Thranduil; Legolas Greenleaf would be the new ruler of Mirkwood, in its entirety.
"When in the spring time of the year
When the trees are crowned with leave
When the ash and oak and thy virgin yew
Are dressed in ribbons fair…
"When owls call the breathless moon
In the blue veil of the night
The shadows of the trees appear
Amidst the lantern light…
"We've been rambling all the night
And some time of this day
Now returning back again
We bring a garland gaily
"Who will go down to the shady groves
And summon the shadows there
And tie a ribbon on those sheltering arms
In springtime of the year
"The songs of birds seem to fill the wood
That when the fiddler plays
All their voices can be heard
Long past their woodland days…
"We've been rambling all the night
And some time of this day
Now returning back again
We bring a garland gaily
"And so they linked their hands and danced
Round in circles and in rows
And so the journey of the night descends
When all the shades are gone
" 'A garland gay we bring you here
And at your door we stand
It is a sprout well budded out
The work of our lord's hand…' "
"We've been rambling all the night
And some time of this day
Now returning back again
We bring a garland gaily…"
Grian looked mournfully at the road to the castle in the shadows, the sun had well laid to rest. Foolish elf! She thought to no one but herself. He's an aristocrat, never would stoop to coming to meet a servant. Tears began falling from her eyes, dripping down her cheeks into the small stream below. And she looked at the misty reflection in the water, how utterly horrid she did look, so out of place among all these of Western Middle Earth.
"Go lagaí do chuid naimhde do chroí…Go lagaí do chuid naimhde do chroí… Go lagaí do chuid naimhde do chroí…"
Another reflection appeared in the ripples of the water and a hand wiped away a tear, "Why do you weep?"
She took a deep breath, and shook her head, "No reason. Only memories."
"Hasn't anyone told you: 'Weep not for the memories'?" he inquired, smiling and taking the wet tears from her face.
She turned, smiling, "Many times, but it does not ever work."
"My apologies for my belated arrival, I was day-dreaming," Legolas replied.
"Dare I ask what about?" she asked, smiling underneath her hair. The other elf turned a bright shade of red in an instant and she cleared the hair from her face, looking up at him before remembering never to make eye contact.
Legolas recomposed himself, and replied, "About you? What other beauty is there to think about in a world filled with wars and terror? I heard you singing again, do you talk of the ancient mummers of spring?"
"Not so ancient," she replied, hopping onto the small bridge's fence to keep an elf from falling in the water. "I have seen them, and rumors abound in the castle say you were young you did."
"2,391 years is not a long time by elf standards."
"I know," she chimed, then winked. "Not long at all."
.-*-.
A.N. You like? Yes? We be getting to de mushy-mush-mush. ^.^ I'm being silly. Now if only my boyfriend looked like Orlando Bloom does in LotR we'd be doing good… Damn! He doesn't… perhaps with a bow and arrow, pointed ears… oh my! It doesn't look like him. Oh well. *shrugs* Anyway…I found in a movie summary that Legolas was 2,931 years old. Don't ask. 'Cuz I don't know either. I'm just using it. Even though I DID read the books first. R & R! Gracias!
Disclaimer We already went over this. I don't own 'em. Mummer's Dance or LotR! I wish.
E-Mail messy@usa.com
P.S. Okay, just so y'all know. I am NOT trying to make this a Mary-Sue, in a couple chapter you'll see why I don't think its a Mary Sue, well a MAJOR Mary-Sue. I sincerely hope that Grian is acceptable even though she does act a lot like me if you put me in Middle Earth you know... but I'm not! Plus, there's a reason for it, and I'll give you a quote: "The writer doesn't write a story, he writes himself." Even though I'm not a he, it still applies. Plus, slash isn't my cup of tea if you know what I mean. So if after future chapters you think this is getting too Mary-Sue-ish please tell me. I do NOT, repeat NOT, like in any way plotless new character fics. So... yeah... but wait 'til say Chapter 22 at least. Please? There's a reason... ^.^
By Nezumi
Chapter Nine: Brook Bridge Siren
The difference between dreaming and reality is that one is asleep, and the other is awake. Who is to say the difference between them? How do you know if you're awake or dreaming? Or when you're awake, supposedly, yet the scene out of your dreams or when you're dream but its feels so real, tastes so real, you certainly can't be dreaming. So are you awake when you read this? Or are you in your dreams?
"At the brook's bridge…" a voice murmured through his head all day, while Gandalf rambled the current situation to Merry and Pippin. They too seemed bored by it. Gazing at the light fixture above the great table, he founded himself thinking of the shiny black hair that cascaded over her tan limbs, and the pinkish full lips, and…
"Legolas!"
"Hn?" he asked, snapping his head towards Gandalf, displeased at an interruption with his thoughts, finally somewhat pure, of Grian.
"An elf's heart is not disturbed into the depths of love often, but it always steers him right, only in one instance was that not true," Gandalf nodded, then looked out the window, winking. "Its almost sundown."
Legolas' eyes became wide, as he leapt out the door. Pippin was quite puzzled, and about to ask a question, until Merry elbowed him grinning wildly. "Mister…. Legolas?" George questioned and then entered the hall shrugging. It wasn't his place to meddle in matters of the heart, after all he was but 18 years old, an infant in comparison to his 2, 931* year old guardian. "Ah… he's going out meet Grian," he reported cheerfully to 3 of his father's friend.
"Grian?" Pippin inquired. "Is she a knock-out?"
"I think you've had a wee bit much ale, Mr. Took," George said, and climbing up beside the large hobbit. "But Grian she's beautiful, even more so than Lady Arwen, and that be hard to imagine!"
Gandalf smiled under his hat, at least the elf had found someone to ease his sorrow, for the old wizard could find no tangible soul to hold onto. Such a being would relieve him from the news he would have to tell his friend. Kill Thranduil. It was two simple words to roll off his tongue, but the consequences would be severe. The king was the channel she funneled her power through, Gandalf had determined. Therefore by exterminating him, she would be forced into physical form for an attack. However, it would take its toll upon the son of Thranduil; Legolas Greenleaf would be the new ruler of Mirkwood, in its entirety.
"When in the spring time of the year
When the trees are crowned with leave
When the ash and oak and thy virgin yew
Are dressed in ribbons fair…
"When owls call the breathless moon
In the blue veil of the night
The shadows of the trees appear
Amidst the lantern light…
"We've been rambling all the night
And some time of this day
Now returning back again
We bring a garland gaily
"Who will go down to the shady groves
And summon the shadows there
And tie a ribbon on those sheltering arms
In springtime of the year
"The songs of birds seem to fill the wood
That when the fiddler plays
All their voices can be heard
Long past their woodland days…
"We've been rambling all the night
And some time of this day
Now returning back again
We bring a garland gaily
"And so they linked their hands and danced
Round in circles and in rows
And so the journey of the night descends
When all the shades are gone
" 'A garland gay we bring you here
And at your door we stand
It is a sprout well budded out
The work of our lord's hand…' "
"We've been rambling all the night
And some time of this day
Now returning back again
We bring a garland gaily…"
Grian looked mournfully at the road to the castle in the shadows, the sun had well laid to rest. Foolish elf! She thought to no one but herself. He's an aristocrat, never would stoop to coming to meet a servant. Tears began falling from her eyes, dripping down her cheeks into the small stream below. And she looked at the misty reflection in the water, how utterly horrid she did look, so out of place among all these of Western Middle Earth.
"Go lagaí do chuid naimhde do chroí…Go lagaí do chuid naimhde do chroí… Go lagaí do chuid naimhde do chroí…"
Another reflection appeared in the ripples of the water and a hand wiped away a tear, "Why do you weep?"
She took a deep breath, and shook her head, "No reason. Only memories."
"Hasn't anyone told you: 'Weep not for the memories'?" he inquired, smiling and taking the wet tears from her face.
She turned, smiling, "Many times, but it does not ever work."
"My apologies for my belated arrival, I was day-dreaming," Legolas replied.
"Dare I ask what about?" she asked, smiling underneath her hair. The other elf turned a bright shade of red in an instant and she cleared the hair from her face, looking up at him before remembering never to make eye contact.
Legolas recomposed himself, and replied, "About you? What other beauty is there to think about in a world filled with wars and terror? I heard you singing again, do you talk of the ancient mummers of spring?"
"Not so ancient," she replied, hopping onto the small bridge's fence to keep an elf from falling in the water. "I have seen them, and rumors abound in the castle say you were young you did."
"2,391 years is not a long time by elf standards."
"I know," she chimed, then winked. "Not long at all."
.-*-.
A.N. You like? Yes? We be getting to de mushy-mush-mush. ^.^ I'm being silly. Now if only my boyfriend looked like Orlando Bloom does in LotR we'd be doing good… Damn! He doesn't… perhaps with a bow and arrow, pointed ears… oh my! It doesn't look like him. Oh well. *shrugs* Anyway…I found in a movie summary that Legolas was 2,931 years old. Don't ask. 'Cuz I don't know either. I'm just using it. Even though I DID read the books first. R & R! Gracias!
Disclaimer We already went over this. I don't own 'em. Mummer's Dance or LotR! I wish.
E-Mail messy@usa.com
P.S. Okay, just so y'all know. I am NOT trying to make this a Mary-Sue, in a couple chapter you'll see why I don't think its a Mary Sue, well a MAJOR Mary-Sue. I sincerely hope that Grian is acceptable even though she does act a lot like me if you put me in Middle Earth you know... but I'm not! Plus, there's a reason for it, and I'll give you a quote: "The writer doesn't write a story, he writes himself." Even though I'm not a he, it still applies. Plus, slash isn't my cup of tea if you know what I mean. So if after future chapters you think this is getting too Mary-Sue-ish please tell me. I do NOT, repeat NOT, like in any way plotless new character fics. So... yeah... but wait 'til say Chapter 22 at least. Please? There's a reason... ^.^