Disclaimer: AU Story. My third large LOTR fic. I can't stop! None of the
characters or settings are mine. They all belong to Tolkien. I wish I were
related to Tolkien, don't you? It would be so cool! Oh, and the plot here
is derived from my own imagination. Hope you enjoy.
Crazytook: Sam's last name appeared in the book too. And that always fascinated me. For all the many reasons he might have done it. I could not include it in Lost in Moria or Trials of Lórien but now it can come in here. Glad these chapters are intriguing you!
The Lazy Fairy: Yay- you like! I am really enjoying writing this story- it is making every day brighter for me. I just came back from a) a Latin test b) wood c) equivalent fractions *gags* d) lots of dull German and e) indoor Netball. But I now return dreamily to the computer to finish this chapter. My mate gave me a picture of Elijah today so I'm a little...drool-y.
~ Chapter Ten ~
The rider galloped into Mirkwood and jumped down at the sight of the elves. He put a hand to his breast and bowed.
"I come from Osgiliath in the south, seeking any word or news from the northern realm," he said. A tall, fair elf made his way through the crowd and hailed the man.
"Greetings, stranger. I am Prince Legolas and I have received word of your coming. Come, there is much to discuss."
He was led away towards a great, shining palace amid the trees. There, they opened a door and proceeded to climb a tedious pathway of stairs until they reached a wide chamber. Parts of the trees themselves jutted up through floor, wall and ceiling, the whole trunk of one holding up the very room. Legolas and his guest walked round the obstruction and seated themselves on two white benches opposite one another.
"The king sent you, am I right?"
"That is correct. He wishes to know of all happenings in your realm of Mirkwood. A written account if possible, signed by both yourself and Lord Tharandúil," was the reply. The man was a little unease under the penetrating gaze. But his voice remained bold and he was confident in his task.
"Very well," Legolas said, "That can be arranged. But there has been little to speak of, to tell you the truth."
"That is fine. His highness only wishes for all news over the past few years. Any special events or occasions or...unusual occurrences," he said, repeating the last part stumblingly, trying to recall what his king had said. Legolas smiled at this. Just the sort of thing Aragorn would say. He felt a pang of loss in his heart and tried to stifle it. He really missed him. All of them, really. Gimli's presence was almost unbelievably reassuring. It made him feel as if parts of him were being put back together. The Fellowship had been a moiety of his soul; it had created a whole new life for him. And shown him things he would not have believed possible. He closed his eyes briefly, looking on each face at a time. The Fellowship had been more than friends. They had been bonded to one another, their lives interwoven and stitched into one pattern. The Fellowship- his own band of loyal companions- had been more than that. They had been a family.
"...possibly there will be word from the outposts at Anor..."
Legolas shook himself. The man was still talking. He listened from then on, feeling a little foolish but also sensing a great warmth begin to spread through him.
--
**Valinor. The Undying Lands. They say that Valinor is perfect. There is eternal light for no darkness had ever found its way there. There are no shadows, only colour and unending light. It is pure. The sea is fresh and clear. The land is plentiful. And your home is whatever you wish it to be. A haven for the elves- the undying race. But many other kinds have been accepted there as well.
Galadriel stood on the white shore, gazing across the endless sea. She felt a pull at her heart. Why had he not returned? She knelt down to touch at the long lines that had been dug into the sand, left from the raft. Why had he left?
Elrond stared out at the horizon. He missed the little hobbit deeply. And he feared for him. But fear mostly the news he bore. He would not remember. Not for a very long time. He wondered if he would even remember that he had intended to return.
Bilbo watched the waves fall listlessly on the sandy embankments. He had lost his "nephew" a second time. His beloved cousin and friend had set out again. On yet another quest. He rested his head on the flawless tree bark and let out a long sigh. He wondered if he would ever play a part in the little hobbit's adventures?
Gandalf, however, had climbed to the peak of the tallest mountain and had sat there for many days. No food, drink or rest needed here. Immortality had its points. He was smiling as he looked out to sea. Frodo had known what he had to do. And Gandalf was proud of him.**
--
The sky was beginning to grow whiter. The bright morning had died somewhat into bleak afternoon. A freezing wind swept through the city. If you looked down over the bridge, through the railings, you could see the river below, the waters frozen stiff. And then, if you got to you feet and put out your hand, you would have seen tiny flakes of snow fall into your palm. And then you would know that winter had arrived. September's wrath was about to be unleashed.
Faramir strode briskly onto the bridge, slipping as he did so. Regaining his balance, he wrapped his thick cloak tighter about him and then crossed over to the other side. The snow was growing heavier and strewing the roads with white. His feet crunched on the stone as he ran over to the nearby Inn. The Silver Net. He passed through the door and felt the cold dissipate around him and the warmth of the tavern and the sound of voices close in around him. Faramir shook out his cloak and hung it by the door with the others. He moved to the staircase and almost tripped over in his hurry to reach the next floor. There, he dashed down the corridor and knocked frantically until Aragorn opened it. He was clearly half asleep.
"What ever is the matter, Faramir?" hr mumbled as the man walked past him. He began to pace, wringing his hands and a wild look on his face. Aragorn frowned.
"Look, you just sit down-"
"Sit down! My dear friend, I do not believe you will be capable of such a feat after I give you the news. Aragorn- oh, Aragorn!" Faramir gushed, gripping his friend by the shoulders. "Aragorn, we have had word from the rider in the Shire."
"But how on earth could he get back?"
"From Gwahir the eagle! He brought a message back from our rider who only reached the Shire early morning today. But, Aragorn, what news!"
"What is it? Spit it out then!" the king laughed. Faramir attempted to sit down but could not and so stood up and cleared his throat.
"The Ringbearer...has returned."
--
Aragorn burst out of the Inn door, minutes after Faramir had entered. The other guests watched him go with wide eyes peering over their beer glasses. He wore no cloak and his boots were too small. But there was a manic grin plastered onto his face. He fair sprinted into the tiny stable at the side of The Silver Net.
Brégo was chewing lazily on some oats when he felt a saddle being thrown onto his back. Giving an impatient snort, he allowed his master to straddle him and then settle down into a comfortable position. He nervously backed out of his pen at Aragorn's breathless word. He was pleased to find that the world behind him did exist after all.* Then, he was alarmed to find that Aragorn wanted to sprint. Being a loyal horse, Brégo obeyed and he cantered out of the stable.
"Faster! Faster!" the man shouted over the billowing wind. He followed the glistening river north again, this time on the opposite side to the last time. He galloped harder out of the city gates and spurned out over the pristine fields. His hooves kicked up the snow behind him in a shimmering cloud. And behind him, the horse heard a frantic voice calling,
"Aragorn! Aragorn, what are you doing?!"
~
Wow! That was really fun to write!
Crazytook: Sam's last name appeared in the book too. And that always fascinated me. For all the many reasons he might have done it. I could not include it in Lost in Moria or Trials of Lórien but now it can come in here. Glad these chapters are intriguing you!
The Lazy Fairy: Yay- you like! I am really enjoying writing this story- it is making every day brighter for me. I just came back from a) a Latin test b) wood c) equivalent fractions *gags* d) lots of dull German and e) indoor Netball. But I now return dreamily to the computer to finish this chapter. My mate gave me a picture of Elijah today so I'm a little...drool-y.
~ Chapter Ten ~
The rider galloped into Mirkwood and jumped down at the sight of the elves. He put a hand to his breast and bowed.
"I come from Osgiliath in the south, seeking any word or news from the northern realm," he said. A tall, fair elf made his way through the crowd and hailed the man.
"Greetings, stranger. I am Prince Legolas and I have received word of your coming. Come, there is much to discuss."
He was led away towards a great, shining palace amid the trees. There, they opened a door and proceeded to climb a tedious pathway of stairs until they reached a wide chamber. Parts of the trees themselves jutted up through floor, wall and ceiling, the whole trunk of one holding up the very room. Legolas and his guest walked round the obstruction and seated themselves on two white benches opposite one another.
"The king sent you, am I right?"
"That is correct. He wishes to know of all happenings in your realm of Mirkwood. A written account if possible, signed by both yourself and Lord Tharandúil," was the reply. The man was a little unease under the penetrating gaze. But his voice remained bold and he was confident in his task.
"Very well," Legolas said, "That can be arranged. But there has been little to speak of, to tell you the truth."
"That is fine. His highness only wishes for all news over the past few years. Any special events or occasions or...unusual occurrences," he said, repeating the last part stumblingly, trying to recall what his king had said. Legolas smiled at this. Just the sort of thing Aragorn would say. He felt a pang of loss in his heart and tried to stifle it. He really missed him. All of them, really. Gimli's presence was almost unbelievably reassuring. It made him feel as if parts of him were being put back together. The Fellowship had been a moiety of his soul; it had created a whole new life for him. And shown him things he would not have believed possible. He closed his eyes briefly, looking on each face at a time. The Fellowship had been more than friends. They had been bonded to one another, their lives interwoven and stitched into one pattern. The Fellowship- his own band of loyal companions- had been more than that. They had been a family.
"...possibly there will be word from the outposts at Anor..."
Legolas shook himself. The man was still talking. He listened from then on, feeling a little foolish but also sensing a great warmth begin to spread through him.
--
**Valinor. The Undying Lands. They say that Valinor is perfect. There is eternal light for no darkness had ever found its way there. There are no shadows, only colour and unending light. It is pure. The sea is fresh and clear. The land is plentiful. And your home is whatever you wish it to be. A haven for the elves- the undying race. But many other kinds have been accepted there as well.
Galadriel stood on the white shore, gazing across the endless sea. She felt a pull at her heart. Why had he not returned? She knelt down to touch at the long lines that had been dug into the sand, left from the raft. Why had he left?
Elrond stared out at the horizon. He missed the little hobbit deeply. And he feared for him. But fear mostly the news he bore. He would not remember. Not for a very long time. He wondered if he would even remember that he had intended to return.
Bilbo watched the waves fall listlessly on the sandy embankments. He had lost his "nephew" a second time. His beloved cousin and friend had set out again. On yet another quest. He rested his head on the flawless tree bark and let out a long sigh. He wondered if he would ever play a part in the little hobbit's adventures?
Gandalf, however, had climbed to the peak of the tallest mountain and had sat there for many days. No food, drink or rest needed here. Immortality had its points. He was smiling as he looked out to sea. Frodo had known what he had to do. And Gandalf was proud of him.**
--
The sky was beginning to grow whiter. The bright morning had died somewhat into bleak afternoon. A freezing wind swept through the city. If you looked down over the bridge, through the railings, you could see the river below, the waters frozen stiff. And then, if you got to you feet and put out your hand, you would have seen tiny flakes of snow fall into your palm. And then you would know that winter had arrived. September's wrath was about to be unleashed.
Faramir strode briskly onto the bridge, slipping as he did so. Regaining his balance, he wrapped his thick cloak tighter about him and then crossed over to the other side. The snow was growing heavier and strewing the roads with white. His feet crunched on the stone as he ran over to the nearby Inn. The Silver Net. He passed through the door and felt the cold dissipate around him and the warmth of the tavern and the sound of voices close in around him. Faramir shook out his cloak and hung it by the door with the others. He moved to the staircase and almost tripped over in his hurry to reach the next floor. There, he dashed down the corridor and knocked frantically until Aragorn opened it. He was clearly half asleep.
"What ever is the matter, Faramir?" hr mumbled as the man walked past him. He began to pace, wringing his hands and a wild look on his face. Aragorn frowned.
"Look, you just sit down-"
"Sit down! My dear friend, I do not believe you will be capable of such a feat after I give you the news. Aragorn- oh, Aragorn!" Faramir gushed, gripping his friend by the shoulders. "Aragorn, we have had word from the rider in the Shire."
"But how on earth could he get back?"
"From Gwahir the eagle! He brought a message back from our rider who only reached the Shire early morning today. But, Aragorn, what news!"
"What is it? Spit it out then!" the king laughed. Faramir attempted to sit down but could not and so stood up and cleared his throat.
"The Ringbearer...has returned."
--
Aragorn burst out of the Inn door, minutes after Faramir had entered. The other guests watched him go with wide eyes peering over their beer glasses. He wore no cloak and his boots were too small. But there was a manic grin plastered onto his face. He fair sprinted into the tiny stable at the side of The Silver Net.
Brégo was chewing lazily on some oats when he felt a saddle being thrown onto his back. Giving an impatient snort, he allowed his master to straddle him and then settle down into a comfortable position. He nervously backed out of his pen at Aragorn's breathless word. He was pleased to find that the world behind him did exist after all.* Then, he was alarmed to find that Aragorn wanted to sprint. Being a loyal horse, Brégo obeyed and he cantered out of the stable.
"Faster! Faster!" the man shouted over the billowing wind. He followed the glistening river north again, this time on the opposite side to the last time. He galloped harder out of the city gates and spurned out over the pristine fields. His hooves kicked up the snow behind him in a shimmering cloud. And behind him, the horse heard a frantic voice calling,
"Aragorn! Aragorn, what are you doing?!"
~
Wow! That was really fun to write!
