A quick chapter to end the action scene. I will be continuing to write
over the weekend; I hope to finish at least another chapter. In about one
week, I will be leaving for England. . . I will not return until the
following Saturday. So, I plan to leave the story at a point of suspense
at that time (hopefully I will be able to write that much in one week!).
Please continue to review, it inspires me to know that people read my work!
And P.I.D., you are not crazy and I really appreciate your comments!
Thank you! Until the next chapter, enjoy!
****
ELVISH DIALOGUE: Sindarin: Idh sí - Rest here.
Quenya: Tira nottolya - Face your foe / Tulta tuolya - Summon forth your strength / An mauya mahtie ter oiomornie, ter ondicilyar, mettanna - For you must fight through endless dark, through chasms of stone, to the end. / Laa - No
****
Legolas immediately jogged over to where Haemerethwen was trapped under the humongous tree; dropping his putrid smelling, bloody sword on the ground next to him, he softly called out her name. He could not see her between the numerous branches and leaves that covered all that lay beneath. He feared that the tree had crushed her with the speed it had dropped and when she did not answer him, he fiercely pushed aside the leaves, searching for where she may be trapped. After still not being able to locate her, he began to break the branches off the tree, apologizing to the dying tree beforehand.
After about five minutes of searching for the she-Elf, he noticed a strand of golden hair lying along the ground. He gracefully stepped over the many branches and began to hurriedly break off those that he believed covered the hurt Elf. Moments later, he caught sight of her paled and scratched face; her teeth were clenched into a grimace and her eyes were tightly shut. He began to frantically break off the branches, trying to free the trapped Elf from underneath the weight of the tree.
"Legolas?" she silently asked, her eyes slightly opening and peering at the struggling Elf. He stopped for a second and looked at the pained she-Elf who was struggling to remain in consciousness.
"Save your speech, Haemerethwen," he whispered, his eyes softening as she again closed her eyes and her mouth tried to form some unintelligible words. He continued to break off the branches until her whole body was uncovered. Thick blood was still flowing from the gaping wound on her shoulder where the broken shoulder bone had sharply pierced through the skin; he knew that she could not be moved with this serious type of injury and contemplated on how to situate himself. She shivered as the wind hit her broken body and she stared up at him, her grey eyes praying for him to alleviate her tremendous pain.
"Idh sí," he gently spoke to her and rose to search for some kind of herb that would quell her pain. He searched around the bushes, but only found the wood that the she-Elf had earlier dumped. Picking up the pieces, he brought them to an opening near the felled tree and started a fire, hoping that the fire would warm up the chilled air. He then continued to search around the area for aiding elements, but could find none. Remembering that his horse carried some of the medicine, he loudly whistled into the night to call for his companion to travel towards the new site he was located at.
Returning to the Elf, he found that she had passed into a deep sleep and was struggling to correctly breathe with her broken shoulder. He reached into his pocket and discovered that he did carry some herb that would heal her slightly, but he knew that the protruding bone would be more difficult to handle. He gently rubbed the wound with the herb that Aragorn had prescribed him to use into the she-Elf's wound; it immediately had an effect on her as color slightly returned to cheeks and the swelling began to lessen.
When the horse arrived on the scene, Legolas sighed in relief. He straightened and thanked Elbereth that he had not taken off the pack from his horse. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a bottle of water, rag, a needle and thread, and numerous herbs that would aid in forcing the bone back into her body. He warmed the water within the glass into the fire for a short amount of time and then poured small amounts of it onto his rag. Wetting the area around her wound, he removed the clotted blood from the opening and mixed in various herbs to help in disinfecting and soothing the pain.
For the rest of the still night, Legolas meticulously worked on the wound and eventually by the break of dawn, he had completely healed her ailments. He was exhausted by his efforts; he thanked Aragorn for teaching him some aspects of medicine and healing, knowing that without that knowledge Haemerethwen would not have survived the night.
Legolas now watched the she-Elf as she somewhat peacefully slept. Her eyes were still closed, which was expected since of the traumatic experience she had just been a participant of. He tenderly smoothed her hair and pushed away the stray strands from her face. Looking back upon the night, he suddenly realized how incredibly anxious he was over the survival of the Elf. When he had first heard her whistle among the night, his heart wrenched over the pitiful fear of losing her so quickly within their journey. Now as he watched her, he still felt his emotions contorting as he suffered with her pain that he desperately tried to control.
Legolas had become confused; he was exploring his heart and mind and questioning the reasoning behind these new emotions. He did not understand why his fury rose when he watched the Olog-hai pushing down the tree upon the defenseless Elf; moreover, he did not understand why within that fury there was also a sense of panic. 'How can my emotions be so swayed by her?' he silently questioned himself. He stood up and began to pace alongside the wounded Elf who was now lying near the dying fire. 'I should not be so influenced by her condition. How can this be?' He continued to question himself and his intentions until he heard her rustle and mumble.
Turning quickly and kneeling beside the she-Elf, he put his hand to her forehead to guess if she had a fever. He dropped his hand in relief when there was no abnormal temperature felt, but he kept his stern eyes upon his companion as she continued to mumble in her sleep. Even in her suffering, Legolas continued to feel that strange emotion towards her; he continually tried to deny the heartfelt emotion, but to no avail did it cede its mind. Here was the Falathrim messenger in pain and here was the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen in confusion; this entire situation occurring in the middle of the night due to three Olog-hai attacking the she-Elf.
Legolas ran his hands through his hair, contemplating what it was that drew him so to this Elf. The more he learned about her history and personality, the more she seduced him; her beauty became more powerful and he became enveloped with her musical voice and charming laugh. 'How can this be?' he asked himself again, directing his eyes away from her peaceful face and towards the stars. She was attracting him to her, he understood this, but what was the reason behind it? She portrayed no astonishing beauty or talent, but nonetheless he was falling for her.
"Tira nottolya!" suddenly shouted Haemerethwen, who had opened her eyes wide and was fiercely staring into the vast sky. She was breathing deeply and slowly and Legolas immediately noticed that she was caught in a realistic dream. He was amazed at the intensity that showed within her grey eyes in her imagination, but he knew that Elven dreams were not be underestimated. He began to slowly caress the skin of her arm to relax her tensing muscles, allowing him the tingling sensation of touching her smooth and luscious skin. However, his mind denied the overwhelming desire to roam elsewhere as he stayed focus on the fact that Haemerethwen was suffering from some unknown dream.
"Tulta tuolya! An mauya mahtie ter oiomornie, ter ondicilyar, mettanna!" she violently yelled out to no one. Legolas worriedly peered at her, his eyes slanting as he took in the words she spoke. She was speaking in the Elven language known as Quenya, the older and less used version. Through her words, he comprehended that she was probably crying out to her Falathrim companions during a fictional battle; apparently, they were fighting against the Orcs and were losing, seeing that she was encouraging them to continue to fight. He did not know that she knew Quenya, but he understood that it might be necessary to speak a language that Orcs would not be able to comprehend.
Legolas leaned across the female Elf and grabbed hold of the rag, intending to soothe her with more warm water on her face. As he was dipping it into the water, he again heard her speaking, but this time she was whispering a single word: "Laa." When he looked at her, she was shaking her head and she continued to whisper the word, occasionally allowing her voice to rise. Her voice began to tremble as her eyes sharpened and her breath became quicker until soon she was gasping for air. Watching this process, Legolas interrupted when she almost seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating by dabbing her forehead with the damp rag and by singing quietly to her.
'He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beachen leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.'
Legolas watched as her heavy breathing slowly calmed down through his care; his enchanting voice again soothed her as he sang of the powerful tale of Luthien and Beren. He continued to allow the water to pacify her nightmare as he sang of love, an emotion that was slowly gathering within his unfulfilled heart. He sighed as he peered at the Elf that captivated him more day by day, still denying that the confusion within him was due to his inner desire for her. However, he could not overlook the fact that he was the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen and she a mere messenger, an aspect that would continue to stunt the full growth of his inner feelings.
****
ELVISH DIALOGUE: Sindarin: Idh sí - Rest here.
Quenya: Tira nottolya - Face your foe / Tulta tuolya - Summon forth your strength / An mauya mahtie ter oiomornie, ter ondicilyar, mettanna - For you must fight through endless dark, through chasms of stone, to the end. / Laa - No
****
Legolas immediately jogged over to where Haemerethwen was trapped under the humongous tree; dropping his putrid smelling, bloody sword on the ground next to him, he softly called out her name. He could not see her between the numerous branches and leaves that covered all that lay beneath. He feared that the tree had crushed her with the speed it had dropped and when she did not answer him, he fiercely pushed aside the leaves, searching for where she may be trapped. After still not being able to locate her, he began to break the branches off the tree, apologizing to the dying tree beforehand.
After about five minutes of searching for the she-Elf, he noticed a strand of golden hair lying along the ground. He gracefully stepped over the many branches and began to hurriedly break off those that he believed covered the hurt Elf. Moments later, he caught sight of her paled and scratched face; her teeth were clenched into a grimace and her eyes were tightly shut. He began to frantically break off the branches, trying to free the trapped Elf from underneath the weight of the tree.
"Legolas?" she silently asked, her eyes slightly opening and peering at the struggling Elf. He stopped for a second and looked at the pained she-Elf who was struggling to remain in consciousness.
"Save your speech, Haemerethwen," he whispered, his eyes softening as she again closed her eyes and her mouth tried to form some unintelligible words. He continued to break off the branches until her whole body was uncovered. Thick blood was still flowing from the gaping wound on her shoulder where the broken shoulder bone had sharply pierced through the skin; he knew that she could not be moved with this serious type of injury and contemplated on how to situate himself. She shivered as the wind hit her broken body and she stared up at him, her grey eyes praying for him to alleviate her tremendous pain.
"Idh sí," he gently spoke to her and rose to search for some kind of herb that would quell her pain. He searched around the bushes, but only found the wood that the she-Elf had earlier dumped. Picking up the pieces, he brought them to an opening near the felled tree and started a fire, hoping that the fire would warm up the chilled air. He then continued to search around the area for aiding elements, but could find none. Remembering that his horse carried some of the medicine, he loudly whistled into the night to call for his companion to travel towards the new site he was located at.
Returning to the Elf, he found that she had passed into a deep sleep and was struggling to correctly breathe with her broken shoulder. He reached into his pocket and discovered that he did carry some herb that would heal her slightly, but he knew that the protruding bone would be more difficult to handle. He gently rubbed the wound with the herb that Aragorn had prescribed him to use into the she-Elf's wound; it immediately had an effect on her as color slightly returned to cheeks and the swelling began to lessen.
When the horse arrived on the scene, Legolas sighed in relief. He straightened and thanked Elbereth that he had not taken off the pack from his horse. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a bottle of water, rag, a needle and thread, and numerous herbs that would aid in forcing the bone back into her body. He warmed the water within the glass into the fire for a short amount of time and then poured small amounts of it onto his rag. Wetting the area around her wound, he removed the clotted blood from the opening and mixed in various herbs to help in disinfecting and soothing the pain.
For the rest of the still night, Legolas meticulously worked on the wound and eventually by the break of dawn, he had completely healed her ailments. He was exhausted by his efforts; he thanked Aragorn for teaching him some aspects of medicine and healing, knowing that without that knowledge Haemerethwen would not have survived the night.
Legolas now watched the she-Elf as she somewhat peacefully slept. Her eyes were still closed, which was expected since of the traumatic experience she had just been a participant of. He tenderly smoothed her hair and pushed away the stray strands from her face. Looking back upon the night, he suddenly realized how incredibly anxious he was over the survival of the Elf. When he had first heard her whistle among the night, his heart wrenched over the pitiful fear of losing her so quickly within their journey. Now as he watched her, he still felt his emotions contorting as he suffered with her pain that he desperately tried to control.
Legolas had become confused; he was exploring his heart and mind and questioning the reasoning behind these new emotions. He did not understand why his fury rose when he watched the Olog-hai pushing down the tree upon the defenseless Elf; moreover, he did not understand why within that fury there was also a sense of panic. 'How can my emotions be so swayed by her?' he silently questioned himself. He stood up and began to pace alongside the wounded Elf who was now lying near the dying fire. 'I should not be so influenced by her condition. How can this be?' He continued to question himself and his intentions until he heard her rustle and mumble.
Turning quickly and kneeling beside the she-Elf, he put his hand to her forehead to guess if she had a fever. He dropped his hand in relief when there was no abnormal temperature felt, but he kept his stern eyes upon his companion as she continued to mumble in her sleep. Even in her suffering, Legolas continued to feel that strange emotion towards her; he continually tried to deny the heartfelt emotion, but to no avail did it cede its mind. Here was the Falathrim messenger in pain and here was the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen in confusion; this entire situation occurring in the middle of the night due to three Olog-hai attacking the she-Elf.
Legolas ran his hands through his hair, contemplating what it was that drew him so to this Elf. The more he learned about her history and personality, the more she seduced him; her beauty became more powerful and he became enveloped with her musical voice and charming laugh. 'How can this be?' he asked himself again, directing his eyes away from her peaceful face and towards the stars. She was attracting him to her, he understood this, but what was the reason behind it? She portrayed no astonishing beauty or talent, but nonetheless he was falling for her.
"Tira nottolya!" suddenly shouted Haemerethwen, who had opened her eyes wide and was fiercely staring into the vast sky. She was breathing deeply and slowly and Legolas immediately noticed that she was caught in a realistic dream. He was amazed at the intensity that showed within her grey eyes in her imagination, but he knew that Elven dreams were not be underestimated. He began to slowly caress the skin of her arm to relax her tensing muscles, allowing him the tingling sensation of touching her smooth and luscious skin. However, his mind denied the overwhelming desire to roam elsewhere as he stayed focus on the fact that Haemerethwen was suffering from some unknown dream.
"Tulta tuolya! An mauya mahtie ter oiomornie, ter ondicilyar, mettanna!" she violently yelled out to no one. Legolas worriedly peered at her, his eyes slanting as he took in the words she spoke. She was speaking in the Elven language known as Quenya, the older and less used version. Through her words, he comprehended that she was probably crying out to her Falathrim companions during a fictional battle; apparently, they were fighting against the Orcs and were losing, seeing that she was encouraging them to continue to fight. He did not know that she knew Quenya, but he understood that it might be necessary to speak a language that Orcs would not be able to comprehend.
Legolas leaned across the female Elf and grabbed hold of the rag, intending to soothe her with more warm water on her face. As he was dipping it into the water, he again heard her speaking, but this time she was whispering a single word: "Laa." When he looked at her, she was shaking her head and she continued to whisper the word, occasionally allowing her voice to rise. Her voice began to tremble as her eyes sharpened and her breath became quicker until soon she was gasping for air. Watching this process, Legolas interrupted when she almost seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating by dabbing her forehead with the damp rag and by singing quietly to her.
'He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beachen leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.'
Legolas watched as her heavy breathing slowly calmed down through his care; his enchanting voice again soothed her as he sang of the powerful tale of Luthien and Beren. He continued to allow the water to pacify her nightmare as he sang of love, an emotion that was slowly gathering within his unfulfilled heart. He sighed as he peered at the Elf that captivated him more day by day, still denying that the confusion within him was due to his inner desire for her. However, he could not overlook the fact that he was the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen and she a mere messenger, an aspect that would continue to stunt the full growth of his inner feelings.