DISCLAIMER: With the exception of Nadena, I own none of the characters you
are about to read. I am aware that there are no vampires in any of
Tolkien's books, but I wanted to spice things up. Trust me, it doesn't
suck as much as it sounds. The description given of Mirkwood doesn't come
from Tolkien's vision, either. I made it up. The song "My December"
belongs to Linkin Park. (Largely overused, I know, but still one of my
favorites.) Also, any elvish you read isn't the real language. I haven't
learned it yet. The dwarven city given later on is also not from Tolkien.
The creature had a distinctive, surprisingly pleasant scent that tickled the elf's nostrils, as he pursued its tracks with caution, sensing its pricked ears and graceful limbs. Finally, a gap appeared between two trees, and he saw his prey for the first time. It had a curly, thick mane of dark brown hair that fell to its hips, and it wore a loose, tan-colored dress. It was a woman! The elf decided it was time to start the fun part of his hunt: the confrontation.
He leapt from his low crouch behind a maple, and the prey gave a small gasp of alarm before running toward the southeast. It took a second or so for the attacker to realize how fast she truly was. He chased her from the high hill of the forest to the campsite, where she found herself surrounded by a strange collection of man, dwarf, and hobbit.
The rhythm of the prey's pulse quickened against the skin of her neck, and her chest rose and fell in exasperated panting. She spun around, facing him. He knew now that she feared him most, and he couldn't help but smirk at the thought. She only narrowed her eyes in response.
"Why," came an aged voice from the darkness, "do you haunt our steps with your vigilance?" The prey responded to the shadows, keeping her eyes upon the elf.
"I have been trying to match your pace for three days hence my stay at Rivendell. Lord Elrond sent me as an additional precaution against the enemy." She immediately knew she had chosen the wrong words, as the elf began stalking toward her, his gaze lowered in restrained anger.
He came to a stop inches from her face, though he towered above her in height. When he spoke, she noticed that his voice rang in a clear accent that sounded somewhat like the chiming of bells, though his tone was acidic. "And what skills would a mere girl, nineteen years of age, provide that two warriors, an elf, a dwarf, and a renowned wizard do not yet possess?"
The young lady was slightly intimidated that he knew of her youth, but returned his glare. "Would you prefer a demonstration?" He leaned closer, and the girl sensed a danger far too familiar for her comfort. She spun around her foe, grabbing a knife from his belt, and kicked him behind the legs, forcing him to his knees. Then, she pressed the knife to his neck.
Suddenly overtaken by some unknown demonic force, the elf began pressing his neck into the blade. Shocked by a thin bead of blood on his skin, the girl dropped her weapon and pulled away, only to realize her mistake. The elf, without looking over his shoulder, somersaulted backwards and pivoted upon his heel, meanwhile poising an arrow for aim. In less than a second, the prey had lost her advantage and was staring into the tip of an arrow.
"Legolas," the hidden man commanded, "we need not lose temperance."
In the split second that the elf required to look out of the corner of his eye at his elder, the girl had hidden behind the thick trunk of a pine tree. Frustrated, the elf peered at the wizard with an accusatory glance. Suddenly, the girl bound from behind the tree, expecting to kick her attacker in the jaw. Instead, he pivoted an inch from her foot, sending her to the ground by way of her own inertia.
As she scrambled to get up, the elf pulled his knife to her throat. The prey cleverly snatched a second shiv from him and pressed it to his own neck, creating a death trap. If either fighter moved, they'd lose their head.
Then ensued a beat of paramount silence, the two figures flexing in hostile competition. Finally, the phantom appeared from the trees and sent both bodies from each other, slamming their backs into separate trees, and knocking them unconscious. The four small hobbits gathered around the girl, obviously interested by her beauty.
"Who do you think she is, Gandalf?" one asked.
"Whoever she may be," came the reply, "this journey might prove to be an interesting struggle of power."
The creature had a distinctive, surprisingly pleasant scent that tickled the elf's nostrils, as he pursued its tracks with caution, sensing its pricked ears and graceful limbs. Finally, a gap appeared between two trees, and he saw his prey for the first time. It had a curly, thick mane of dark brown hair that fell to its hips, and it wore a loose, tan-colored dress. It was a woman! The elf decided it was time to start the fun part of his hunt: the confrontation.
He leapt from his low crouch behind a maple, and the prey gave a small gasp of alarm before running toward the southeast. It took a second or so for the attacker to realize how fast she truly was. He chased her from the high hill of the forest to the campsite, where she found herself surrounded by a strange collection of man, dwarf, and hobbit.
The rhythm of the prey's pulse quickened against the skin of her neck, and her chest rose and fell in exasperated panting. She spun around, facing him. He knew now that she feared him most, and he couldn't help but smirk at the thought. She only narrowed her eyes in response.
"Why," came an aged voice from the darkness, "do you haunt our steps with your vigilance?" The prey responded to the shadows, keeping her eyes upon the elf.
"I have been trying to match your pace for three days hence my stay at Rivendell. Lord Elrond sent me as an additional precaution against the enemy." She immediately knew she had chosen the wrong words, as the elf began stalking toward her, his gaze lowered in restrained anger.
He came to a stop inches from her face, though he towered above her in height. When he spoke, she noticed that his voice rang in a clear accent that sounded somewhat like the chiming of bells, though his tone was acidic. "And what skills would a mere girl, nineteen years of age, provide that two warriors, an elf, a dwarf, and a renowned wizard do not yet possess?"
The young lady was slightly intimidated that he knew of her youth, but returned his glare. "Would you prefer a demonstration?" He leaned closer, and the girl sensed a danger far too familiar for her comfort. She spun around her foe, grabbing a knife from his belt, and kicked him behind the legs, forcing him to his knees. Then, she pressed the knife to his neck.
Suddenly overtaken by some unknown demonic force, the elf began pressing his neck into the blade. Shocked by a thin bead of blood on his skin, the girl dropped her weapon and pulled away, only to realize her mistake. The elf, without looking over his shoulder, somersaulted backwards and pivoted upon his heel, meanwhile poising an arrow for aim. In less than a second, the prey had lost her advantage and was staring into the tip of an arrow.
"Legolas," the hidden man commanded, "we need not lose temperance."
In the split second that the elf required to look out of the corner of his eye at his elder, the girl had hidden behind the thick trunk of a pine tree. Frustrated, the elf peered at the wizard with an accusatory glance. Suddenly, the girl bound from behind the tree, expecting to kick her attacker in the jaw. Instead, he pivoted an inch from her foot, sending her to the ground by way of her own inertia.
As she scrambled to get up, the elf pulled his knife to her throat. The prey cleverly snatched a second shiv from him and pressed it to his own neck, creating a death trap. If either fighter moved, they'd lose their head.
Then ensued a beat of paramount silence, the two figures flexing in hostile competition. Finally, the phantom appeared from the trees and sent both bodies from each other, slamming their backs into separate trees, and knocking them unconscious. The four small hobbits gathered around the girl, obviously interested by her beauty.
"Who do you think she is, Gandalf?" one asked.
"Whoever she may be," came the reply, "this journey might prove to be an interesting struggle of power."