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Legolas was running.
Foot-treads soundless against the mossy forest floor, feet hardly seeming to skim the ground as he ran, he bounded through the trees as though the Nazgul themselves were on his heels. Adrenaline coursed through his veins like a dark drug, finely tuned Elvish senses heightened to almost impossible sensitivity. The dull pounding of his own pulse was almost deafening to his ears. Would they hear it? Would they give chase? The mere thought spurred him to push his body faster till the wood was lost to a blur of night and shadow.
...Had to run...couldn't let them catch him...
Were he any other, no doubt he would have stumbled. The way was precarious - littered with sudden gullies and hidden tree-roots - and the weak moonlight did little to light his path. Legolas, however, trusted in his own sure-footedness. He leapt over obstacles without a moment's hesitation, dodging the tree-trunks that would loom suddenly from the darkness. Typical to his race, Legolas had the reactions of a cat.
...Nevertheless, he knew that even that would do little to protect him from the evil that pursued.
He ran, occasionally glancing over his shoulder and peering fearfully into the shifting blackness. He saw nothing. This did little to quell his fears...he knew they were there. Waiting...watching... hunting.
Heaven and Earth! Would he ever be free?!
Though his mind was clouded by fear and trepidation, his feet were true. Even before he himself realized it, the darkness ahead was pierced by the glow of distant firelight. The sight kindled a little hope in the panic- stricken elf. He made his way through the dense woodland, his hair streaming behind him in a silver-blonde whip. Almost there...
Gimli glanced up in surprise as Legolas burst into the clearing. The dwarf blinked quickly and set down the rabbit he had been toasting over the fire, rising swiftly to his feet.
"What is it, Legolas? Orcs? Goblins?"
Legolas stared at his friend blankly for a long moment, as though having trouble registering his words. His tall frame trembled, eyes wide and unseeing. The green tunic he had so carefully dressed in only an hour previously was torn and streaked in mud. He looked like a broken man.
Gimli took a step closer, axe now gripped firmly in rough hands. "Come, Legolas! Speak - what demon pursues you?"
The Elvish prince drew a long shuddering breath. He blinked, eyes finally gaining some focus as he shook his head fearfully.
"No demon, friend Gimli. Were only that it had been."
"Do not speak in riddles at such a time!" The dwarf's unruly eyebrows drew together in a deep grimace, teeth bared beneath a curtain of tangled beard. He stood in a battle stance, readying himself for any creature that might suddenly come crashing through the foliage. "Tell me what manner of beast has attacked you!"
Legolas swallowed. "I dare not give voice to its name."
A look of realization suddenly dawned on Gimli's weathered face. "You mean..."
"Yes."
"You can't mean..."
"Yes."
Gimli took a step back to steady himself. The hands that gripped at his axe were suddenly shaking, a cold knot of fear gathering in his stomach. "Fangirls," he whispered grimly.
Those uttered words seemed to be more than Legolas could take. With a final shudder he crumpled to his knees, head lowered despairingly into his hands. "They surrounded me! I-I couldn't escape! There were too many! They kept calling me Orli and trying to stroke my hair..." his suddenly voice rose to a broken wail, "Oh Gimli, it was a nightmare!"
Gimli stared down at his friend in horror for a moment as the details of Legolas's torture dawned. The darkness seemed to grow around them, the comforting glow of the fire suddenly small and uncertain. The forest whispered ominously around them.
...Anywhere...they could be anywhere...
"A curse upon my flawless good looks! If only I were blessed with acne!"
Gimli started. "You don't mean that!"
Legolas looked up at him, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. "Do I not? If only you knew, dearest Gimli, of how my heart yearns to know the gift of a bad hair day. Or an unsightly blackhead. Or perhaps even braces." He gave a strangled sob and looked away. "Then perhaps those vile creatures would leave me be!"
"You mean the fangirls?"
Legolas winced visibly. "Do not even speak of them Gimli! I will not see your lips sullied by that odious name!"
Gimli dropped down to sit beside the elf, one hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. "This is your cross to bear, and I fear that no amount of idle wishing will rid you of your destiny. Frodo had the ring, Aragon had his shamed lineage...and you have are perfect in your masculine beauty. We each have our curses, Legolas - the fangirls are yours."
Legolas gave a pained sigh and screwed his eyes shut. "But must they insist on pairing me off with every clichéd Mary Sue going?"
"Stand brave, Legolas."
A look of immeasurable grief passed over the elf's pale features, but he held his jaw firm and gave a resolute nod. His destiny was a high and lonely one, and he wasn't certain that he could do it. To be the lust object for geeky teenage girls the world over was a heavy responsibility, even for his sturdy shoulders. Oh that he could simply have carried on running and never stopped...
Wiping fiercely at his still streaming eyes, he rose to his feet once more. Lifting his chin, he took a deep breath, eyes fixed grimly out to the darkness where he knew the creatures would be lurking. Beside him, he felt Gimli stand also, axe blade glittering in the firelight.
Then, slowly, the fangirls began to advance...
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Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Authors note: I have absolutely no idea where this came from! I moment of madness brought about by too much sugar! I daresay it won't make much sense but oh well *shrugs*. If you people want high literature, you should know better :-P
Legolas was running.
Foot-treads soundless against the mossy forest floor, feet hardly seeming to skim the ground as he ran, he bounded through the trees as though the Nazgul themselves were on his heels. Adrenaline coursed through his veins like a dark drug, finely tuned Elvish senses heightened to almost impossible sensitivity. The dull pounding of his own pulse was almost deafening to his ears. Would they hear it? Would they give chase? The mere thought spurred him to push his body faster till the wood was lost to a blur of night and shadow.
...Had to run...couldn't let them catch him...
Were he any other, no doubt he would have stumbled. The way was precarious - littered with sudden gullies and hidden tree-roots - and the weak moonlight did little to light his path. Legolas, however, trusted in his own sure-footedness. He leapt over obstacles without a moment's hesitation, dodging the tree-trunks that would loom suddenly from the darkness. Typical to his race, Legolas had the reactions of a cat.
...Nevertheless, he knew that even that would do little to protect him from the evil that pursued.
He ran, occasionally glancing over his shoulder and peering fearfully into the shifting blackness. He saw nothing. This did little to quell his fears...he knew they were there. Waiting...watching... hunting.
Heaven and Earth! Would he ever be free?!
Though his mind was clouded by fear and trepidation, his feet were true. Even before he himself realized it, the darkness ahead was pierced by the glow of distant firelight. The sight kindled a little hope in the panic- stricken elf. He made his way through the dense woodland, his hair streaming behind him in a silver-blonde whip. Almost there...
Gimli glanced up in surprise as Legolas burst into the clearing. The dwarf blinked quickly and set down the rabbit he had been toasting over the fire, rising swiftly to his feet.
"What is it, Legolas? Orcs? Goblins?"
Legolas stared at his friend blankly for a long moment, as though having trouble registering his words. His tall frame trembled, eyes wide and unseeing. The green tunic he had so carefully dressed in only an hour previously was torn and streaked in mud. He looked like a broken man.
Gimli took a step closer, axe now gripped firmly in rough hands. "Come, Legolas! Speak - what demon pursues you?"
The Elvish prince drew a long shuddering breath. He blinked, eyes finally gaining some focus as he shook his head fearfully.
"No demon, friend Gimli. Were only that it had been."
"Do not speak in riddles at such a time!" The dwarf's unruly eyebrows drew together in a deep grimace, teeth bared beneath a curtain of tangled beard. He stood in a battle stance, readying himself for any creature that might suddenly come crashing through the foliage. "Tell me what manner of beast has attacked you!"
Legolas swallowed. "I dare not give voice to its name."
A look of realization suddenly dawned on Gimli's weathered face. "You mean..."
"Yes."
"You can't mean..."
"Yes."
Gimli took a step back to steady himself. The hands that gripped at his axe were suddenly shaking, a cold knot of fear gathering in his stomach. "Fangirls," he whispered grimly.
Those uttered words seemed to be more than Legolas could take. With a final shudder he crumpled to his knees, head lowered despairingly into his hands. "They surrounded me! I-I couldn't escape! There were too many! They kept calling me Orli and trying to stroke my hair..." his suddenly voice rose to a broken wail, "Oh Gimli, it was a nightmare!"
Gimli stared down at his friend in horror for a moment as the details of Legolas's torture dawned. The darkness seemed to grow around them, the comforting glow of the fire suddenly small and uncertain. The forest whispered ominously around them.
...Anywhere...they could be anywhere...
"A curse upon my flawless good looks! If only I were blessed with acne!"
Gimli started. "You don't mean that!"
Legolas looked up at him, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. "Do I not? If only you knew, dearest Gimli, of how my heart yearns to know the gift of a bad hair day. Or an unsightly blackhead. Or perhaps even braces." He gave a strangled sob and looked away. "Then perhaps those vile creatures would leave me be!"
"You mean the fangirls?"
Legolas winced visibly. "Do not even speak of them Gimli! I will not see your lips sullied by that odious name!"
Gimli dropped down to sit beside the elf, one hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. "This is your cross to bear, and I fear that no amount of idle wishing will rid you of your destiny. Frodo had the ring, Aragon had his shamed lineage...and you have are perfect in your masculine beauty. We each have our curses, Legolas - the fangirls are yours."
Legolas gave a pained sigh and screwed his eyes shut. "But must they insist on pairing me off with every clichéd Mary Sue going?"
"Stand brave, Legolas."
A look of immeasurable grief passed over the elf's pale features, but he held his jaw firm and gave a resolute nod. His destiny was a high and lonely one, and he wasn't certain that he could do it. To be the lust object for geeky teenage girls the world over was a heavy responsibility, even for his sturdy shoulders. Oh that he could simply have carried on running and never stopped...
Wiping fiercely at his still streaming eyes, he rose to his feet once more. Lifting his chin, he took a deep breath, eyes fixed grimly out to the darkness where he knew the creatures would be lurking. Beside him, he felt Gimli stand also, axe blade glittering in the firelight.
Then, slowly, the fangirls began to advance...
****************************************
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Authors note: I have absolutely no idea where this came from! I moment of madness brought about by too much sugar! I daresay it won't make much sense but oh well *shrugs*. If you people want high literature, you should know better :-P
