Feedback: Please. celli@fanfic101.com
Rating: G.
Archiving: ask, and I'll probably say yes.
Disclaimer: Tolkien's. New Line's. Not mine.
Spoilers: Movieverse (FotR and TTT).
Summary: "You defined beauty as you had been taught."
All. Victoria's. Fault.
***
Beautiful
by Celli Lane
***
You are an Elf. You were born into a beautiful world, into
a beautiful race.
Or so you have always thought.
You defined beauty as you had been taught. The rush of
water over stone; the grace of an arrow's flight; jewels
shining in sunlight or moonlight, and the Elven maidens who
wore them.
You cannot be sure when the meaning of the word changed for
you, but you know that the quest caused it.
Now the laughter of hobbits is beautiful to you. The sight
of mithral gleaming in the darkness takes your breath away.
Death--that enemy, even of Elves--has its own strange
beauty, you learn when you watch two cherished comrades say
goodbye to each other.
In the midst of all these new discoveries, it takes some
time for you to realize what is perhaps the greatest of
them.
The solid presence against your front while riding, the
same comforting bulk against your back while sleeping?
Beautiful.
A blustery voice that shouts challenges and laughter at the
same high volume, habitually gruff to disguise the warm
heart beneath? Beautiful.
The impulsiveness that leads a Dwarf off of parapets and
into Fellowships? The generosity that learns to befriend
members of a detested race? The soul that mourns those
long dead and comforts those newly grieved?
Indeed. Beautiful.
"What are you staring at?" Gimli snarls. "Is there dirt on
my face? Damned pristine Elf."
And you laugh, because finding a Dwarf's temper beautiful
should be beyond even your new understanding. "You are a
creature of beauty as always, my friend," you tell him, and
leave him sputtering as you go to saddle your horse.
There is no need for him to know it is true.
Rating: G.
Archiving: ask, and I'll probably say yes.
Disclaimer: Tolkien's. New Line's. Not mine.
Spoilers: Movieverse (FotR and TTT).
Summary: "You defined beauty as you had been taught."
All. Victoria's. Fault.
***
Beautiful
by Celli Lane
***
You are an Elf. You were born into a beautiful world, into
a beautiful race.
Or so you have always thought.
You defined beauty as you had been taught. The rush of
water over stone; the grace of an arrow's flight; jewels
shining in sunlight or moonlight, and the Elven maidens who
wore them.
You cannot be sure when the meaning of the word changed for
you, but you know that the quest caused it.
Now the laughter of hobbits is beautiful to you. The sight
of mithral gleaming in the darkness takes your breath away.
Death--that enemy, even of Elves--has its own strange
beauty, you learn when you watch two cherished comrades say
goodbye to each other.
In the midst of all these new discoveries, it takes some
time for you to realize what is perhaps the greatest of
them.
The solid presence against your front while riding, the
same comforting bulk against your back while sleeping?
Beautiful.
A blustery voice that shouts challenges and laughter at the
same high volume, habitually gruff to disguise the warm
heart beneath? Beautiful.
The impulsiveness that leads a Dwarf off of parapets and
into Fellowships? The generosity that learns to befriend
members of a detested race? The soul that mourns those
long dead and comforts those newly grieved?
Indeed. Beautiful.
"What are you staring at?" Gimli snarls. "Is there dirt on
my face? Damned pristine Elf."
And you laugh, because finding a Dwarf's temper beautiful
should be beyond even your new understanding. "You are a
creature of beauty as always, my friend," you tell him, and
leave him sputtering as you go to saddle your horse.
There is no need for him to know it is true.
