A/N: sorry and all that about the lateness. But keep reviewing dammit. I
love reviews, I live on them when food is scarce, I breathe when there is
no air because of them. Hmmm, yeah, in a strange mood today aren't we???
Also, I want to here any suggestions I could try to incorporate into this,
or any random constructive abuse, even the not-so-constructive abuse.
Legolas is so damn hard to write. Tolkein was such a genius, I can never try to write any of his characters, I should just stop now.
Mary-Jane's character seems to change in this chapter. Actually, her character doesn't change, but my perception of her does. We are now on good terms, Mary-Jane and I, having overcome or differences, but do not despair! Her perfectness will annoy me soon enough.
Chapter Three:
Vainly, she beat at the strong arms which held her captive. Each fist fall was weaker than the last and the interval between each longer. Her energy and strength was abandoning her quickly. At last her arms lay still beside her, feeling like lead, accepting that she had been defeated by this tall, strong stranger. She lifted her head, staring defiantly into the strangers deep eyes, her face streaked with tears.
He stared, searchingly into her eyes. They were a wall of defiance, only the past actions and the tears falling down her face showed her state of mind, an any emotions she might have felt. Still he searched. Slowly he found cracks in her defence, and saw, through them, her mind. Her eyes betrayed her, showing her state of panic, her confusion and her fear.
'Mellon,' he whispered, a vain attempt to calm her. Even these hushed words had a melodic quality to them.
He stared again into her eyes, still searching. When he spoke no hint of understanding or even recognition passed across her expression. As he stared at her, she felt as though he were trying to see into her very soul, this was quite an accurate sensation as this was precisely what he was trying to do.
'Mellon!' He spoke again, more urgently. Again, her eyes showed nothing, she did not comprehend. At last he understood.
'Friend,' he translated into the common tongue. 'I am a friend.'
Her eyes showed understanding. But her confusion was only heightened, with the new question: should she believe this stranger? Her mind was in conflict, one half already under the stranger's spell set by the tones of his voice.
She looked again into his eyes, trying to find an answer in the deep depths. He stared long into her eyes, trying to reassure her without words.
His eyes showed sudden distraction, suddenly darting towards sounds unheard by the crude ears of Mary-Jane.
'Hlasta!' he cried urgently, seemingly to himself. 'Yrch!'
He turned to address Mary-Jane, his grip now lightly holding her, not in restraint. 'There are foul things afoot, we must fly. I have friends camped not far from this place, we should join them.' Seeing the expression on Mary-Jane's face he added 'Trust me.'
'Trust,' she scoffed under her breath, she new too much of trust to bestow it so carelessly.
'I promise no harm will come to you under my protection,' his melodious voice hinted with accents of urgency. 'Come.'
Mary-Jane complied. She felt she had no choice in the matter. Trust him or not, she could do nothing but follow him.
He ran lightly over the undergrowth littered with sticks, roots and fallen tree trunks. He agonised over his decision. He read no evil in the stranger's eyes. He knew not of her background, and nothing of her purpose, if any, in the forest. His instincts told him to trust her, and logic confirmed this. If she was indeed a spy of the enemy why would she not have any weapons in her possession? Why would she come blundering down a hillside? Why would she run from him in such a fashion, blindly and without direction? He had read enough in her eyes to know the scale of her terror and confusion. How could these be signs of evil?
She ran, stumbling and tripping over the undergrowth trying to keep up with the stranger whom she had just bestowed her trust upon. She had no idea of their direction, but then she had no idea of her position when she had first run from the stranger. She looked ahead, and found that the stranger had stopped suddenly, before a rock, and was stooping down to collect something from off the rock. She froze again, her heart racing.
The stranger sensed her tension, and turned to face her, his quiver of arrows and bow slung over his back. 'Does trust mean nothing to you?' He inquired.
Mary-Jane looked bewildered, not knowing what to do or say. A thought passed across her mind. She could run from him again. But her energy and strength had left her long ago, and he would easily catch her again.
'I promised to protect you, do not think I make these lightly.'
Mary-Jane had to believe him. He could have easily killed her, or taken her prisoner without going to the trouble of making her trust him. Though he may have promised to protect her, and he might trust her, his friends he spoke of may not act the same way. He ran ahead, motioning to her to follow. She was once again deprived of choices. What could she do other than sit there and be lost forever in the dark expanse of the forest if she did not follow him. He seemed at home in the forest, and might be able to point her in the right direction. She chose to ignore the stranger's strange clothes and ears, as it did not help her reassure herself.
She stumbled over a log, hidden in the undergrowth. Her knee stung where she fell. She jumped up and ran on, ignoring the throbbing sensation in her left leg. She looked down to the ground, determined not to trip over again. She felt very uncoordinated compared to the man who was running lightly over the ground, as if his feet hardly touched the ground over which he travelled. As she glanced down she saw a slash of red go through her line of sight. She followed it with her eyes, and saw a red liquid coming from her throbbing knee. Now she was bleeding all over the forest, fantastic. She kept on, not knowing how far she travelled and in what direction.
She stumbled suddenly into a clearing, the great river which she had seen before on the other side of the clearing. A man with dark hair, deep almost black eyes and rugged appearance glanced interestedly at her, before jumping up in reaction, drawing his sword t the same time.
Sorry about the shortness. I wanted to put up another chapter, so I wrote this quickly, it is therefore not at all long or of any quality. Oh well. Better stuff will follow, I finish assessment at school this week so I'll have heaps of time in the not-so-distant future. Then I have heaps of holidays so I can write more, and you can al suffer the consequences. And must I add - please review? I love reviews, I love all my reviewers, and I thank all you who have reviewed (except for Jane, because.she knows why)
Legolas is so damn hard to write. Tolkein was such a genius, I can never try to write any of his characters, I should just stop now.
Mary-Jane's character seems to change in this chapter. Actually, her character doesn't change, but my perception of her does. We are now on good terms, Mary-Jane and I, having overcome or differences, but do not despair! Her perfectness will annoy me soon enough.
Chapter Three:
Vainly, she beat at the strong arms which held her captive. Each fist fall was weaker than the last and the interval between each longer. Her energy and strength was abandoning her quickly. At last her arms lay still beside her, feeling like lead, accepting that she had been defeated by this tall, strong stranger. She lifted her head, staring defiantly into the strangers deep eyes, her face streaked with tears.
He stared, searchingly into her eyes. They were a wall of defiance, only the past actions and the tears falling down her face showed her state of mind, an any emotions she might have felt. Still he searched. Slowly he found cracks in her defence, and saw, through them, her mind. Her eyes betrayed her, showing her state of panic, her confusion and her fear.
'Mellon,' he whispered, a vain attempt to calm her. Even these hushed words had a melodic quality to them.
He stared again into her eyes, still searching. When he spoke no hint of understanding or even recognition passed across her expression. As he stared at her, she felt as though he were trying to see into her very soul, this was quite an accurate sensation as this was precisely what he was trying to do.
'Mellon!' He spoke again, more urgently. Again, her eyes showed nothing, she did not comprehend. At last he understood.
'Friend,' he translated into the common tongue. 'I am a friend.'
Her eyes showed understanding. But her confusion was only heightened, with the new question: should she believe this stranger? Her mind was in conflict, one half already under the stranger's spell set by the tones of his voice.
She looked again into his eyes, trying to find an answer in the deep depths. He stared long into her eyes, trying to reassure her without words.
His eyes showed sudden distraction, suddenly darting towards sounds unheard by the crude ears of Mary-Jane.
'Hlasta!' he cried urgently, seemingly to himself. 'Yrch!'
He turned to address Mary-Jane, his grip now lightly holding her, not in restraint. 'There are foul things afoot, we must fly. I have friends camped not far from this place, we should join them.' Seeing the expression on Mary-Jane's face he added 'Trust me.'
'Trust,' she scoffed under her breath, she new too much of trust to bestow it so carelessly.
'I promise no harm will come to you under my protection,' his melodious voice hinted with accents of urgency. 'Come.'
Mary-Jane complied. She felt she had no choice in the matter. Trust him or not, she could do nothing but follow him.
He ran lightly over the undergrowth littered with sticks, roots and fallen tree trunks. He agonised over his decision. He read no evil in the stranger's eyes. He knew not of her background, and nothing of her purpose, if any, in the forest. His instincts told him to trust her, and logic confirmed this. If she was indeed a spy of the enemy why would she not have any weapons in her possession? Why would she come blundering down a hillside? Why would she run from him in such a fashion, blindly and without direction? He had read enough in her eyes to know the scale of her terror and confusion. How could these be signs of evil?
She ran, stumbling and tripping over the undergrowth trying to keep up with the stranger whom she had just bestowed her trust upon. She had no idea of their direction, but then she had no idea of her position when she had first run from the stranger. She looked ahead, and found that the stranger had stopped suddenly, before a rock, and was stooping down to collect something from off the rock. She froze again, her heart racing.
The stranger sensed her tension, and turned to face her, his quiver of arrows and bow slung over his back. 'Does trust mean nothing to you?' He inquired.
Mary-Jane looked bewildered, not knowing what to do or say. A thought passed across her mind. She could run from him again. But her energy and strength had left her long ago, and he would easily catch her again.
'I promised to protect you, do not think I make these lightly.'
Mary-Jane had to believe him. He could have easily killed her, or taken her prisoner without going to the trouble of making her trust him. Though he may have promised to protect her, and he might trust her, his friends he spoke of may not act the same way. He ran ahead, motioning to her to follow. She was once again deprived of choices. What could she do other than sit there and be lost forever in the dark expanse of the forest if she did not follow him. He seemed at home in the forest, and might be able to point her in the right direction. She chose to ignore the stranger's strange clothes and ears, as it did not help her reassure herself.
She stumbled over a log, hidden in the undergrowth. Her knee stung where she fell. She jumped up and ran on, ignoring the throbbing sensation in her left leg. She looked down to the ground, determined not to trip over again. She felt very uncoordinated compared to the man who was running lightly over the ground, as if his feet hardly touched the ground over which he travelled. As she glanced down she saw a slash of red go through her line of sight. She followed it with her eyes, and saw a red liquid coming from her throbbing knee. Now she was bleeding all over the forest, fantastic. She kept on, not knowing how far she travelled and in what direction.
She stumbled suddenly into a clearing, the great river which she had seen before on the other side of the clearing. A man with dark hair, deep almost black eyes and rugged appearance glanced interestedly at her, before jumping up in reaction, drawing his sword t the same time.
Sorry about the shortness. I wanted to put up another chapter, so I wrote this quickly, it is therefore not at all long or of any quality. Oh well. Better stuff will follow, I finish assessment at school this week so I'll have heaps of time in the not-so-distant future. Then I have heaps of holidays so I can write more, and you can al suffer the consequences. And must I add - please review? I love reviews, I love all my reviewers, and I thank all you who have reviewed (except for Jane, because.she knows why)