Notes:
Yay! Because of all the notes last chapter there are none this chapter!
Chapter Two
{What the hell is this thing?} Elladan glared at his brother for asking the question as he helped Legolas up from under the...Thing. The term certainly fit, it looked almost human, but too fair, and to his keen elven sight it shimmered like sun dream upon the horizon.
Legolas, despite his obvious annoyance at being landed upon and pushed into the mud was also fascinated, more focused on the now and reality than he had been in a month.
{Do you speak Sindarin, wander?} He received no response from the thing besides a glare from eyes only a few shades different from Legolas's particular brand of green through ringlet-ed hair. He sighed, {I have not the patience for this. I wish to leave.} He started walking but his progress was impeded by the twins. {Move, now.}
Elrohir sighed, {Don't think so. We should get to the bottom of this, now.} /We should have kept our visits twice a month, we've been gone for two months and he's gotten worse and.../ {Gods you got stuck up.}
{Watch where you tread 'Dan. Watch it carefully.}
-----
Ah, so they were speaking to him. Their tongue sounded almost like that which was used in the courts in the Summer Lands before the High King. So close, but too different. Maclyn lifted his face out of the mud and despite himself his face showed surprise.
They looked like him, their ears a bit different, and no Sidhe he ever heard of had dark hair and eyes, but the blond one could pass for a lord, save his eyes were distant as an underpowered low court 'kid.' Not to mention they were human and not cat slit.
But that wasn't the surprising bit, the part that broke his composure. It was the fact they were pointing arrows at him. Their bows were wood, *Wood!* Almost all Sidhe had adopted human's new technology for their old weapons, carbon bows, sight scopes, pulleys to triple or more the pull of a weapon with less strain upon the arm. Those that didn't had their weapon of metal, pliant and as flexible as wood but far stronger, and enchanted too boot.
However, looking into their eyes, even the dreamy distant ones of the blond he had a sense of oldness to them, of wisdom. Suddenly Maclyn felt very young indeed.
"Lle Quendi Sindarin, randir?" It was obvious directed to him, and he just shook his head to indicate that no, he did not understand.
"Eh...Konichiwa?" What they spoke sounded nothing like any human language he knew, so he tried one he barely knew. That was Japanese, he picked up a little of it in New York City, it was hard not too as more than half the population was...what was it...anime crazy. He didn't know anything about that but their candy was good. [Hello?]
It did him no good, the blond one was, like an especially ditzy Dreaming low court, no longer paying attention to him. In fact he was arguing with the twins, "Al-deri gerin min I an sen. Min ie..."
Maclyn stopped paying attention to their words. While they argued he could get away. He put his hands on the ground, grateful for his gloves because they kept the mud off his hands. It wasn't swamp mud but more like damp soil, none the less his silk shirt was ruined. He levered himself up, got a leg under him started to stand...
And fell yowling against a tree. [Sweet Blessed Dana!] "Damnit!"
"So, you do speak Westron."
"Westron? This is English, argh..." He looked down at his leg, ignoring the hiss of sympathy of the others as they too directed their attention towards it. He had been running on it and now...ugh, it was worse than he imagined. The poison... /What kind of poison IS that?/
The blond looked at him sharply, "You're poisoned?"
/Wha? Just my luck another mind read--!!!/ He started and cursed himself out for being an idiot--after getting his shields up. What kind of fool was he? He was in hostile territory with an open mind, he might as well give his true name away!
And with a sickening realization he felt the blond, push against his shields as if exploring them, and feeling his emotions though it.
/Amanda Anne helped me build those!/ The fact that the other did not question who Amanda Anne was assured him that his thoughts were not overheard. Reasonably safe behind his shields he turned his attention to his surroundings and recoiled.
The place felt...to borrow a phrase from Amanda icky. He could just see Abby comparing the magical aura of this place to 'icky gooey yucky slugs' and Alice comparing it to 'germy poisonous dirt', which was perhaps the worst insult possible from the young neat freak. Anne...Anne had seen far worse but would say nothing and build up her shields even more.
Why didn't he notice this in the first place? It had almost as much magic as any Elfhame but it reeked of Unseleighe and poison. It should have knocked him on his back!
Of course, the poison. It killed the pain in his leg for a while until it came back, it was most likely messing with his mind too. The prey runs and runs like a drunk with a mortal wound, and then cuts off suddenly and then falls to the dogs from the sudden pain. It would make sense for it to skew the perception and the mind so the prey wouldn't notice it's surroundings, running in circles, staying inside of the Hunt's territory, and not seeing escape paths.
[I am one lucky bastard.]
Yay! Because of all the notes last chapter there are none this chapter!
Chapter Two
{What the hell is this thing?} Elladan glared at his brother for asking the question as he helped Legolas up from under the...Thing. The term certainly fit, it looked almost human, but too fair, and to his keen elven sight it shimmered like sun dream upon the horizon.
Legolas, despite his obvious annoyance at being landed upon and pushed into the mud was also fascinated, more focused on the now and reality than he had been in a month.
{Do you speak Sindarin, wander?} He received no response from the thing besides a glare from eyes only a few shades different from Legolas's particular brand of green through ringlet-ed hair. He sighed, {I have not the patience for this. I wish to leave.} He started walking but his progress was impeded by the twins. {Move, now.}
Elrohir sighed, {Don't think so. We should get to the bottom of this, now.} /We should have kept our visits twice a month, we've been gone for two months and he's gotten worse and.../ {Gods you got stuck up.}
{Watch where you tread 'Dan. Watch it carefully.}
-----
Ah, so they were speaking to him. Their tongue sounded almost like that which was used in the courts in the Summer Lands before the High King. So close, but too different. Maclyn lifted his face out of the mud and despite himself his face showed surprise.
They looked like him, their ears a bit different, and no Sidhe he ever heard of had dark hair and eyes, but the blond one could pass for a lord, save his eyes were distant as an underpowered low court 'kid.' Not to mention they were human and not cat slit.
But that wasn't the surprising bit, the part that broke his composure. It was the fact they were pointing arrows at him. Their bows were wood, *Wood!* Almost all Sidhe had adopted human's new technology for their old weapons, carbon bows, sight scopes, pulleys to triple or more the pull of a weapon with less strain upon the arm. Those that didn't had their weapon of metal, pliant and as flexible as wood but far stronger, and enchanted too boot.
However, looking into their eyes, even the dreamy distant ones of the blond he had a sense of oldness to them, of wisdom. Suddenly Maclyn felt very young indeed.
"Lle Quendi Sindarin, randir?" It was obvious directed to him, and he just shook his head to indicate that no, he did not understand.
"Eh...Konichiwa?" What they spoke sounded nothing like any human language he knew, so he tried one he barely knew. That was Japanese, he picked up a little of it in New York City, it was hard not too as more than half the population was...what was it...anime crazy. He didn't know anything about that but their candy was good. [Hello?]
It did him no good, the blond one was, like an especially ditzy Dreaming low court, no longer paying attention to him. In fact he was arguing with the twins, "Al-deri gerin min I an sen. Min ie..."
Maclyn stopped paying attention to their words. While they argued he could get away. He put his hands on the ground, grateful for his gloves because they kept the mud off his hands. It wasn't swamp mud but more like damp soil, none the less his silk shirt was ruined. He levered himself up, got a leg under him started to stand...
And fell yowling against a tree. [Sweet Blessed Dana!] "Damnit!"
"So, you do speak Westron."
"Westron? This is English, argh..." He looked down at his leg, ignoring the hiss of sympathy of the others as they too directed their attention towards it. He had been running on it and now...ugh, it was worse than he imagined. The poison... /What kind of poison IS that?/
The blond looked at him sharply, "You're poisoned?"
/Wha? Just my luck another mind read--!!!/ He started and cursed himself out for being an idiot--after getting his shields up. What kind of fool was he? He was in hostile territory with an open mind, he might as well give his true name away!
And with a sickening realization he felt the blond, push against his shields as if exploring them, and feeling his emotions though it.
/Amanda Anne helped me build those!/ The fact that the other did not question who Amanda Anne was assured him that his thoughts were not overheard. Reasonably safe behind his shields he turned his attention to his surroundings and recoiled.
The place felt...to borrow a phrase from Amanda icky. He could just see Abby comparing the magical aura of this place to 'icky gooey yucky slugs' and Alice comparing it to 'germy poisonous dirt', which was perhaps the worst insult possible from the young neat freak. Anne...Anne had seen far worse but would say nothing and build up her shields even more.
Why didn't he notice this in the first place? It had almost as much magic as any Elfhame but it reeked of Unseleighe and poison. It should have knocked him on his back!
Of course, the poison. It killed the pain in his leg for a while until it came back, it was most likely messing with his mind too. The prey runs and runs like a drunk with a mortal wound, and then cuts off suddenly and then falls to the dogs from the sudden pain. It would make sense for it to skew the perception and the mind so the prey wouldn't notice it's surroundings, running in circles, staying inside of the Hunt's territory, and not seeing escape paths.
[I am one lucky bastard.]