Chapter 3
Disclaimer: I own Aragorn, Legolas and the idea for my story ~nod nods~ Hey wait, does owning mean having them chained in your basement? No? Then I guess I don't own them (
Legolas spurred his horse quicker, wanting the mare to put as much distance between him and that cursed place as possible. Aragorn also felt the thinly veiled threat that if they remained that they would become as misfortunate as the fellows in the forest themselves.
There was a sharp crackling in the forest to the pair's right and they reined in their horses, slowing them to a stop by a thicket of over-hanging vines. Legolas had drawn his bow and had it notched with an arrow as the pair surveyed the line of trees that marched back as far as the eye could see. A wind from the east blew down the path toward the man and elf, and they both shivered with the cool undertone of the breeze.
Suddenly, a figure rushed out at them, seemingly out of nowhere. Legolas had launched an arrow before any coherent thought had reached his brain, a talent engraved into his being from centuries of training. The figure went down with a soft grunt and the elf quickly dismounted, the man following suit.
They rushed over to where the figure had fallen, Aragorn quickly drawing his sword should it prove hostile and not dead. When they got close enough to make out the features of this beast, they saw that it wasn't anything to be feared at all, merely a human woman.
Aragorn rolled her over from her facedown position on the ground, and was instantly amazed with what we saw. Here, in the middle of the forest, was a human woman who challenged the beauty of Galadriel. Her auburn hair was long and hung almost to the small of her back, her delicate features twisted into a pathetic mewling of pain from the arrow embedded into her shoulder. She was thin, but she was also covered with a layer of muscle, something Aragorn immediately credited to a life of hard work on a farm that had to make due with a little less than enough.
Her beauty as equally took Legolas aback, but that didn't stop his train of critical thinking. The blonde elf noticed that small flowers of crimson besides that of the injury in her shoulder had blossomed all over her outfit. He thought back to the marsh of blood on the ground that Aragorn and himself had turned from, and wondered if this girl had anything to do with it. As soon as he thought this, he immediately expelled it from his mind. Although she looked strong, Legolas doubted that she had anything to do with the killing. After all, she was only a woman.
She opened her eyes slowly, and the pair felt as though they might lose their minds because of the sheer splendor of this vixen. Her eyes were the colour of deep emeralds that both had stored away in their respective homes. A look of confusion glazed over her eyes, but before that, Legolas saw a brief, flickering emotion pass into her gaze, something that occupied so short of a time that he didn't immediately recognize it. "What . . . who . . . who shot me?"
The elf knelt in front of her, taking one of her delicate hands in his own. He gazed into her eyes and felt that he might fall into their depths and drown if he wasn't careful. "It was I, but only because I was afraid for the king's welfare, and seemingly forewarned to do so by such a spectacle that we both witnessed at a clearing west of here."
"Please. . . it hurts." She gazed into the eyes of Aragorn, and such a pleading as apparent there that he wanted to immediately destroy any and everything that had caused her such pain. "If you are a king as the elf says, then please, heal my wound with your hands."
Aragorn glanced at Legolas, his gray eyes showing something of disbelief. Legolas could sympathize with his position for he felt almost the same way himself. "Alright, but I must warn you: this is going to hurt."
"I am not afraid," she replied, and from the tone of her voice, both the man and the elf believed it. The king gently pried the arrow out of her shoulder, careful to remove the point of the arrow with the rest of the shaft. She gasped in pain and Legolas felt the grip on his hand tighten as she grasped his hand more fiercely.
Isildur's Heir looked at the wound for a second with something of a frown, and then he placed his hand at her injury. From where Legolas was crouched, a fold of fabric prevented him from seeing what caused Aragorn's perplexion, but he could also hear the woman's tissues knit back together at an extraordinary rate. The elf raised his blue eyes to glance at Aragorn's own gray ones. They were filled with first more puzzlement, but then they relaxed into a more relieved look.
The man than gazed at the woman's clothes and noticed what the elf had already observed; the small splashes of crimson that spattered against her tunic and pants that stood out from the beige. "Where, if I may ask, did these blotches of red come from?"
Once again, Legolas saw that briefly occurring emotion reflecting from her eyes before they were once more filled with wondering awe of being near the king of humans in Middle-Earth. "I was out picking berries when I heard a man's scream. I grew frightened and ran . . ." She lifted her hands and buried her face in them, and as she did so, Legolas saw that the flesh by where there was a few moments ago an arrow protruding from was utterly flawless. "I was so scared."
"It's alright," Aragorn comforted, slowly pulling her hands away from her eyes. "But I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced milady. I am Aragorn, your king, and my companion is Legolas Greenleaf, a prince of Mirkwood."
"My name is Yasha," the woman confided, a bit of trust beginning to creep into her voice. Legolas rolled the name around in his mind. Yasha . . . it was a pretty name.
"Yasha . . ." Aragorn echoed, then looked her straight in the eyes again. "That's a beautiful name. From where did you acquire it?"
"A place . . . far to the south." Yasha looked up and smiled at the pair, the sunlight coming through the trees seeming to focus upon her in that one single moment. A look of sadness then dawned upon her features, making the forest suddenly seem darker than the blackest night. "I miss it."
Legolas stirred from where he was kneeling and locked eyes with Aragorn. The swordsman got his intent and stood up, the bowman following his lead. "Come, we must make haste. There are fell deeds taking place in these woods, and I would rather you stay in the castle for a few days whilst we get this mess sorted out."
Yasha nodded and stood up, brushing the leaves and grit from the forest floor. She was shorter than both of them, and had to look up at their faces. "I would be honoured."
"Excellent." Aragorn made a sweeping motion toward the horses that had stood patiently for their riders during this little interlude. "You made ride with me if you wish . . . .?"
Yasha smiled yet shook her head. "Nay, my lord. If the creature were to come back then I should only slow your horse down. I will ride with Legolas, the elf from Mirkwood." She gazed up into his eyes, trying to discern anything from their magical blue depth. "If he wishes it, of course."
"Certainly, milady," he said, walking her back to their horses. The three of them mounted and made haste to leave the forest.
A/N: No Legolas, she's devil spawn, don't go! ;) Anyway, for those who are wondering, don't fret, Yasha's motives for revealing herself to the boys will be revealed in the next chapter. Review and have yourself a lollipop, on me (
Disclaimer: I own Aragorn, Legolas and the idea for my story ~nod nods~ Hey wait, does owning mean having them chained in your basement? No? Then I guess I don't own them (
Legolas spurred his horse quicker, wanting the mare to put as much distance between him and that cursed place as possible. Aragorn also felt the thinly veiled threat that if they remained that they would become as misfortunate as the fellows in the forest themselves.
There was a sharp crackling in the forest to the pair's right and they reined in their horses, slowing them to a stop by a thicket of over-hanging vines. Legolas had drawn his bow and had it notched with an arrow as the pair surveyed the line of trees that marched back as far as the eye could see. A wind from the east blew down the path toward the man and elf, and they both shivered with the cool undertone of the breeze.
Suddenly, a figure rushed out at them, seemingly out of nowhere. Legolas had launched an arrow before any coherent thought had reached his brain, a talent engraved into his being from centuries of training. The figure went down with a soft grunt and the elf quickly dismounted, the man following suit.
They rushed over to where the figure had fallen, Aragorn quickly drawing his sword should it prove hostile and not dead. When they got close enough to make out the features of this beast, they saw that it wasn't anything to be feared at all, merely a human woman.
Aragorn rolled her over from her facedown position on the ground, and was instantly amazed with what we saw. Here, in the middle of the forest, was a human woman who challenged the beauty of Galadriel. Her auburn hair was long and hung almost to the small of her back, her delicate features twisted into a pathetic mewling of pain from the arrow embedded into her shoulder. She was thin, but she was also covered with a layer of muscle, something Aragorn immediately credited to a life of hard work on a farm that had to make due with a little less than enough.
Her beauty as equally took Legolas aback, but that didn't stop his train of critical thinking. The blonde elf noticed that small flowers of crimson besides that of the injury in her shoulder had blossomed all over her outfit. He thought back to the marsh of blood on the ground that Aragorn and himself had turned from, and wondered if this girl had anything to do with it. As soon as he thought this, he immediately expelled it from his mind. Although she looked strong, Legolas doubted that she had anything to do with the killing. After all, she was only a woman.
She opened her eyes slowly, and the pair felt as though they might lose their minds because of the sheer splendor of this vixen. Her eyes were the colour of deep emeralds that both had stored away in their respective homes. A look of confusion glazed over her eyes, but before that, Legolas saw a brief, flickering emotion pass into her gaze, something that occupied so short of a time that he didn't immediately recognize it. "What . . . who . . . who shot me?"
The elf knelt in front of her, taking one of her delicate hands in his own. He gazed into her eyes and felt that he might fall into their depths and drown if he wasn't careful. "It was I, but only because I was afraid for the king's welfare, and seemingly forewarned to do so by such a spectacle that we both witnessed at a clearing west of here."
"Please. . . it hurts." She gazed into the eyes of Aragorn, and such a pleading as apparent there that he wanted to immediately destroy any and everything that had caused her such pain. "If you are a king as the elf says, then please, heal my wound with your hands."
Aragorn glanced at Legolas, his gray eyes showing something of disbelief. Legolas could sympathize with his position for he felt almost the same way himself. "Alright, but I must warn you: this is going to hurt."
"I am not afraid," she replied, and from the tone of her voice, both the man and the elf believed it. The king gently pried the arrow out of her shoulder, careful to remove the point of the arrow with the rest of the shaft. She gasped in pain and Legolas felt the grip on his hand tighten as she grasped his hand more fiercely.
Isildur's Heir looked at the wound for a second with something of a frown, and then he placed his hand at her injury. From where Legolas was crouched, a fold of fabric prevented him from seeing what caused Aragorn's perplexion, but he could also hear the woman's tissues knit back together at an extraordinary rate. The elf raised his blue eyes to glance at Aragorn's own gray ones. They were filled with first more puzzlement, but then they relaxed into a more relieved look.
The man than gazed at the woman's clothes and noticed what the elf had already observed; the small splashes of crimson that spattered against her tunic and pants that stood out from the beige. "Where, if I may ask, did these blotches of red come from?"
Once again, Legolas saw that briefly occurring emotion reflecting from her eyes before they were once more filled with wondering awe of being near the king of humans in Middle-Earth. "I was out picking berries when I heard a man's scream. I grew frightened and ran . . ." She lifted her hands and buried her face in them, and as she did so, Legolas saw that the flesh by where there was a few moments ago an arrow protruding from was utterly flawless. "I was so scared."
"It's alright," Aragorn comforted, slowly pulling her hands away from her eyes. "But I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced milady. I am Aragorn, your king, and my companion is Legolas Greenleaf, a prince of Mirkwood."
"My name is Yasha," the woman confided, a bit of trust beginning to creep into her voice. Legolas rolled the name around in his mind. Yasha . . . it was a pretty name.
"Yasha . . ." Aragorn echoed, then looked her straight in the eyes again. "That's a beautiful name. From where did you acquire it?"
"A place . . . far to the south." Yasha looked up and smiled at the pair, the sunlight coming through the trees seeming to focus upon her in that one single moment. A look of sadness then dawned upon her features, making the forest suddenly seem darker than the blackest night. "I miss it."
Legolas stirred from where he was kneeling and locked eyes with Aragorn. The swordsman got his intent and stood up, the bowman following his lead. "Come, we must make haste. There are fell deeds taking place in these woods, and I would rather you stay in the castle for a few days whilst we get this mess sorted out."
Yasha nodded and stood up, brushing the leaves and grit from the forest floor. She was shorter than both of them, and had to look up at their faces. "I would be honoured."
"Excellent." Aragorn made a sweeping motion toward the horses that had stood patiently for their riders during this little interlude. "You made ride with me if you wish . . . .?"
Yasha smiled yet shook her head. "Nay, my lord. If the creature were to come back then I should only slow your horse down. I will ride with Legolas, the elf from Mirkwood." She gazed up into his eyes, trying to discern anything from their magical blue depth. "If he wishes it, of course."
"Certainly, milady," he said, walking her back to their horses. The three of them mounted and made haste to leave the forest.
A/N: No Legolas, she's devil spawn, don't go! ;) Anyway, for those who are wondering, don't fret, Yasha's motives for revealing herself to the boys will be revealed in the next chapter. Review and have yourself a lollipop, on me (