As it says in the Summary, sure it's after Christmas, but I feel compelled
to finish this for my wonderful reviewers. Hence, Third chapter, enter
Stage Left the ghost of Christmas Past. (wooooooo!)
Niphredil87: Thank you. I love both A Christmas Carol as a book and the literary, original version of LotR and I'm glad it shows. I apologise for any discrepancies in my version of the two ( waterfall2014: Thank you! What do you think of the entire 'Christmas Stories' book? Dickens is such a powerful writer, isn't he?
Without further ado,
Chapter 3: Past
+_+_+_+_+
Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The World has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man at war with man hears not
The love song which they bring:
O hush the noise ye men of strife
And hear the angels sing!
E.H Sears
+_+_+_+_+
The chiming of a single bell awoke Elessar from his deep slumber and he immediately sat bolt upright in his bed, eyes darting about him in wariness. Finding nothing amiss he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, frustrated at his own over active imagination. He collapsed back onto the bedclothes with a groan.
"Bah Humbug," he moaned quietly to himself, eyes clamped shut in an attempt to return to sleep. So focused was he that he did not notice a faint glow materialize in the corner of the chambers and grow, brighter and bigger until it enveloped all around him. Finally noticing the brightness from all around him through his eyelids he snapped his eyes open and was met by a brilliant, blinding white light that burned his eyes with its purity.
The glow seemed to suddenly implode, or at least gather itself in, for in a flash of light it became solid and presented the figure of someone Elessar knew oh so very well.
"Gandalf?" he murmured in wonder. "Is it you? Pray tell your state, it has been many years since we last conversed."
"It is not Gandalf," the figure replied. "I am simply residing in this form for present so we may speak."
Elessar looked troubled. "Are you the spirit, Sir, whose coming was foretold to me?" he asked, barely believing his own words.
"I am."
"Who and what are you?" Elessar demanded, rising from his seated position to his feet, facing the ethereal presence.
"I am the ghost of Christmas Past."
"Far past?" Elessar questioned, his eyes searching.
"No. Your past," the ghost in Gandalf's form replied. "I have come to remind you what has passed before." The spirit motioned with a nod of its head to the window. "Walk with me."
"I beg you spirit, I am mortal and liable to fall."
"A touch of my hand and you shall be upheld in more than this!" the spirit cried and passed its hand over Elessar's. At the touch, the King found himself transported to a place he knew very well.
"Rivendell," he breathed. "I was a boy here!" With that he looked about himself in wonder at the beautiful city of Imaldris, a place he had not seen in years. Drinking in every sight he nearly missed the flash of dark hair that fled past him, followed by two laughing elves.
"You shall not catch me!" the boy attached the mop of hair cried in merriment, "I will not allow it!" The two elves following laughed even more and succeeded in doing so, grabbing the boy and reducing him to a writhing puddle of curls and legs under their tickling fingers. "Elladan! Elrohir! Stop it, both of you!" could be heard at random intervals between shrieked giggles.
"Do you recognise that boy?" the spirit asked, casting Gandalf's gaze on Elessar.
"Recognise him?" Elessar replied, staring at the two elves at the boy. "Recognise him? Of course I recognise him." He looked back at the spirit. "It is me." A fond look passed over his features as he saw his young self slip from his foster brother's grasps and away into the gardens. Suddenly his countenance hardened again and he dismissed the scene with a flick of one wrist. "But it is naught but a memory. I am far different now."
"That is true," the spirit agreed. Ignoring Elessar's glare he smiled. "Let us see another Christmas in this place."
With that the scene changed to Elessar's chambers within Rivendell many years later at the beginning of the quest to destroy the ring. In front of him stood his bed, replete with verdant bedsheets and one elf, sitting crossed legged on the coverlet, playing with a pillow absent mindedly, listening to what another in the room was saying. Elessar's frown became a sneer.
Legolas Greenleaf.
"You remember this day?" the spirit prompted watching Elessar's cold eyes fix on the golden beauty seated on the bed.
"Of course. You think my memory short, surely. This was the day the fellowship of nine set out from Rivendell to destroy the ring." As he spoke these words another figure appeared in the room and walked over to Legolas, speaking something, which made the blonde elf smile sweetly.
The spirit waved Gandalf's hand and suddenly the speech of the two figures in the room could be heard, that of Legolas' smooth, even voice and Aragorn's own low tenor, conversing together.
" Indeed," Legolas began in a teasing voice, "It is said that you and Lady Arwen has a secret council together in the moonlight last night." As Elessar watched, his younger self looked back at Legolas.
"It is true," he replied evenly. "We did." Aragorn then turned and picked up his sword, inspecting its blade with a critical eye.
"And?" Legolas pressed eagerly, although to an observer such as the spirit or Elessar it seemed that his words were laced with apprehension. Oblivious, the younger Aragorn turned and lowered his sword.
"I must tell you, my friend. She has offered me her immortality." Legolas stifled an obvious gasp with a pale, slender hand.
"And?" he repeated, dread underlying the almost whisper.
"I accepted, Legolas. I am to be wed to the Lady Arwen as soon as I take the throne of Gondor," Aragorn cried, jubilant. "Is that not wonderful news? See, I wear her Evenstar."
Legolas looked positively shocked for the briefest of moments before schooling his expression. "It is, indeed, most happy news for you dear friend," he murmured before Aragorn turned his back to Legolas once again. The elf's obviously heart broken expression was cast upon his back before he slid to his feet, all fluid grace. He slipped to the door and paused, looking back at Aragorn.
"Merry Christmas, Estel. I will see you at the gates presently," he whispered. Aragorn looked back.
"Merry Christmas, Legolas," he replied blithely, barely noticing that the elf had already departed.
Elessar, witnessing this, glared between his younger form, Legolas' retreating figure and the spirit that had brought him there.
"Why do you show me such things?" he cried, pain in his eyes. "Why do you delight in tormenting me so? I had no wish to see that! I do not desire to be reminded of Arwen's betrayal!"
"And what of Legolas?" the spirit urged.
"And what of Legolas?" Elessar shot back. "Bah, humbug! He remains in my palace, reminding me of what I have lost when Arwen left my side in the middle of the night!"
"Are you convinced that they are your feelings for him?" the spirit probed gently.
"Absolutely," Elessar snapped angrily. "And I'm forced to repeat my earlier question. Why are you showing me such things?"
"These are the shadows of what has been. That they are what they are, do not blame me."
Elessar clenched his fists with a dry sob. "Leave me," he all but roared, screwing his eyes shut.
When he opened them again, he was once again in his chambers in Gondor and the spirit was no where in sight.
"Bah Humbug," he hissed, scrubbing fruitlessly at his suddenly moist eyes.
And the clock ticked on . . .
+++++++++++++++++
To be continued.
Padawan AngelinaDaisey Barancristeil
Niphredil87: Thank you. I love both A Christmas Carol as a book and the literary, original version of LotR and I'm glad it shows. I apologise for any discrepancies in my version of the two ( waterfall2014: Thank you! What do you think of the entire 'Christmas Stories' book? Dickens is such a powerful writer, isn't he?
Without further ado,
Chapter 3: Past
+_+_+_+_+
Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The World has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man at war with man hears not
The love song which they bring:
O hush the noise ye men of strife
And hear the angels sing!
E.H Sears
+_+_+_+_+
The chiming of a single bell awoke Elessar from his deep slumber and he immediately sat bolt upright in his bed, eyes darting about him in wariness. Finding nothing amiss he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, frustrated at his own over active imagination. He collapsed back onto the bedclothes with a groan.
"Bah Humbug," he moaned quietly to himself, eyes clamped shut in an attempt to return to sleep. So focused was he that he did not notice a faint glow materialize in the corner of the chambers and grow, brighter and bigger until it enveloped all around him. Finally noticing the brightness from all around him through his eyelids he snapped his eyes open and was met by a brilliant, blinding white light that burned his eyes with its purity.
The glow seemed to suddenly implode, or at least gather itself in, for in a flash of light it became solid and presented the figure of someone Elessar knew oh so very well.
"Gandalf?" he murmured in wonder. "Is it you? Pray tell your state, it has been many years since we last conversed."
"It is not Gandalf," the figure replied. "I am simply residing in this form for present so we may speak."
Elessar looked troubled. "Are you the spirit, Sir, whose coming was foretold to me?" he asked, barely believing his own words.
"I am."
"Who and what are you?" Elessar demanded, rising from his seated position to his feet, facing the ethereal presence.
"I am the ghost of Christmas Past."
"Far past?" Elessar questioned, his eyes searching.
"No. Your past," the ghost in Gandalf's form replied. "I have come to remind you what has passed before." The spirit motioned with a nod of its head to the window. "Walk with me."
"I beg you spirit, I am mortal and liable to fall."
"A touch of my hand and you shall be upheld in more than this!" the spirit cried and passed its hand over Elessar's. At the touch, the King found himself transported to a place he knew very well.
"Rivendell," he breathed. "I was a boy here!" With that he looked about himself in wonder at the beautiful city of Imaldris, a place he had not seen in years. Drinking in every sight he nearly missed the flash of dark hair that fled past him, followed by two laughing elves.
"You shall not catch me!" the boy attached the mop of hair cried in merriment, "I will not allow it!" The two elves following laughed even more and succeeded in doing so, grabbing the boy and reducing him to a writhing puddle of curls and legs under their tickling fingers. "Elladan! Elrohir! Stop it, both of you!" could be heard at random intervals between shrieked giggles.
"Do you recognise that boy?" the spirit asked, casting Gandalf's gaze on Elessar.
"Recognise him?" Elessar replied, staring at the two elves at the boy. "Recognise him? Of course I recognise him." He looked back at the spirit. "It is me." A fond look passed over his features as he saw his young self slip from his foster brother's grasps and away into the gardens. Suddenly his countenance hardened again and he dismissed the scene with a flick of one wrist. "But it is naught but a memory. I am far different now."
"That is true," the spirit agreed. Ignoring Elessar's glare he smiled. "Let us see another Christmas in this place."
With that the scene changed to Elessar's chambers within Rivendell many years later at the beginning of the quest to destroy the ring. In front of him stood his bed, replete with verdant bedsheets and one elf, sitting crossed legged on the coverlet, playing with a pillow absent mindedly, listening to what another in the room was saying. Elessar's frown became a sneer.
Legolas Greenleaf.
"You remember this day?" the spirit prompted watching Elessar's cold eyes fix on the golden beauty seated on the bed.
"Of course. You think my memory short, surely. This was the day the fellowship of nine set out from Rivendell to destroy the ring." As he spoke these words another figure appeared in the room and walked over to Legolas, speaking something, which made the blonde elf smile sweetly.
The spirit waved Gandalf's hand and suddenly the speech of the two figures in the room could be heard, that of Legolas' smooth, even voice and Aragorn's own low tenor, conversing together.
" Indeed," Legolas began in a teasing voice, "It is said that you and Lady Arwen has a secret council together in the moonlight last night." As Elessar watched, his younger self looked back at Legolas.
"It is true," he replied evenly. "We did." Aragorn then turned and picked up his sword, inspecting its blade with a critical eye.
"And?" Legolas pressed eagerly, although to an observer such as the spirit or Elessar it seemed that his words were laced with apprehension. Oblivious, the younger Aragorn turned and lowered his sword.
"I must tell you, my friend. She has offered me her immortality." Legolas stifled an obvious gasp with a pale, slender hand.
"And?" he repeated, dread underlying the almost whisper.
"I accepted, Legolas. I am to be wed to the Lady Arwen as soon as I take the throne of Gondor," Aragorn cried, jubilant. "Is that not wonderful news? See, I wear her Evenstar."
Legolas looked positively shocked for the briefest of moments before schooling his expression. "It is, indeed, most happy news for you dear friend," he murmured before Aragorn turned his back to Legolas once again. The elf's obviously heart broken expression was cast upon his back before he slid to his feet, all fluid grace. He slipped to the door and paused, looking back at Aragorn.
"Merry Christmas, Estel. I will see you at the gates presently," he whispered. Aragorn looked back.
"Merry Christmas, Legolas," he replied blithely, barely noticing that the elf had already departed.
Elessar, witnessing this, glared between his younger form, Legolas' retreating figure and the spirit that had brought him there.
"Why do you show me such things?" he cried, pain in his eyes. "Why do you delight in tormenting me so? I had no wish to see that! I do not desire to be reminded of Arwen's betrayal!"
"And what of Legolas?" the spirit urged.
"And what of Legolas?" Elessar shot back. "Bah, humbug! He remains in my palace, reminding me of what I have lost when Arwen left my side in the middle of the night!"
"Are you convinced that they are your feelings for him?" the spirit probed gently.
"Absolutely," Elessar snapped angrily. "And I'm forced to repeat my earlier question. Why are you showing me such things?"
"These are the shadows of what has been. That they are what they are, do not blame me."
Elessar clenched his fists with a dry sob. "Leave me," he all but roared, screwing his eyes shut.
When he opened them again, he was once again in his chambers in Gondor and the spirit was no where in sight.
"Bah Humbug," he hissed, scrubbing fruitlessly at his suddenly moist eyes.
And the clock ticked on . . .
+++++++++++++++++
To be continued.
Padawan AngelinaDaisey Barancristeil