Aragorn: Lord of Impeccable Timing or Legolas: Ranger-Killer
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Frodo was extremely amused.
He found himself in the rather demanding process of avidly watching two of his companions very carefully. And had been for a couple of minutes or so. ~Well I never~ Was his final conclusion on the whole scenario as he turned to Sam, for the gardener was also watching the pair, mirth near-dancing in his deep-brown eyes as he sucked thoughtfully on his pipe.
"To look at them, and if you didn't know better, you'd think they were simply a couple of hobbit-lads, wouldn't you?"
"Aye, Mr. Frodo," Samwise muttered, shaking his head and not taking his eyes of the two, smoke unfurling itself from corners of the grin his mouth currently found itself in. "That's a strange thought, though, make no mistake," he added, taking a draw from his pipe once more.
"It is, rather, isn't it?" Frodo's mouth quirked and he turned back to the rather attention-grabbing scene. For the two halfings were not watching two hobbit-lads - one might guess from such a comment that they were observing Merry and Pippin in their usual display of endearing immaturity. No, as strange as it may seem, the two halfings were actually captivated by the sight of Strider, a rugged and battle-weary ranger of the North, and Legolas Greenleaf, a prince of Elves and famed warrior, many millenias old, childishly shoving one another with the intent of knocking the other over.
It had started out simply enough, Aragorn and Legolas had been walking side by side, talking with each other - who knew what about, something obscure no doubt - when the man had stumbled over a loose rock upon the path, knocked into his best friend and had clung to him as he attempted to right himself once more. The elf, mayhap in jest - for it was always hard to tell with Elves - percieving this as an invitation for a fight, had pushed him back, so as the ranger had stumbled in the other direction, almost falling once more. Aragorn had swiftly retaliated, knocking the Legolas back a few steps with a heavy hand to the chest, and so it had continued. The pair kept walking onwards, not holding up the company in any way as it traveled, and didn't seem consciously aware of what they were doing, for it seemed instinctive that they try and out-do one another, as they both kept their eyes ahead, just reaching out with a strong arm every now and then. It was almost as though the two would forget for a while, minds on other things, then, when one remembered, there would be a sudden bout of shoving and pushing, which would then subside and so on.
At the minute, a rare bout and the one that had caught Frodo and Sam's attention, it seemed as though Aragorn was winning, he managed just recently to push Legolas so the elf nearly caught himself on a jutting piece of stone from an outcropping of rocks they had been walking by at the time. The elf had swiftly retaliated, knocking Strider back several paces with a well placed blow to the sturdy shoulder - and the two hobbits observing percieved that it was now Aragorn's due turn in this eccentric duel of pushing and shoving. They awaited to see what would happen. ~Strider is the only man who would ever be able to challenge an elf in such a way~ Frodo thought rightly he knew the ranger had been raised among Elves, and that he and the prince of Mirkwood had been friends for an exceedingly long time, but still... Elves were the Firstborn, and if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, Frodo would not believe that any elf, especially Legolas Greenleaf who was always so dignified and graceful, would engage in such a sport. ~Then again~ he mused ~It's pretty fun to watch, and I'll bet my mushrooms that this isn't the first time it's happened~
Aragorn now, it seemed, had decided that enough was enough, and it was time to put an end to the whole thing. He gathered himself together, and with all his might, hurled his whole body towards his Elven-friend in the hope of throwing him to the ground and triumphing.
Legolas merely side-stepped to the left.
*CRACK!* Aragorn hit the boulder that they were walking past with full force, face-first. "Oh, Valar!" Frodo cried, and he raced to the scene of the accident, Sam following closely behind, pipe forgotten. They reached their companions before the rest of the fellowship even realised what was going on - Strider wasn't moving. Frodo hauled the ranger onto his back with difficulty, and gasped. There was blood flowing from his long nose, and deep cuts decorated the unconscious face. Frodo patted the cheek of his friend, trying to gain some kind of response, but nothing would bring back the northerner from whatever place his mind was. The gentle-hobbit glanced up at the elf in shock, to find Legolas gazing down at his best friend, fair head on one side, as if puzzled. "You've knocked him out," Frodo stated, his voice taking on a barely accusatory tone, his wide, winter-blue eyes fixed on the warrior.
"So, it would appear," Legolas muttered, still seemingly perplexed by the string of events, a single crease showing between his fine brows. "He does this a lot," he added as if to reassure the hobbit, eye flickering to Frodo and then back again.
Sam, who had also been patting the ranger's cheek, looked up, astounded, "How many times have you done this, Mr. Legolas?"
"Oh, a fair few," the elf replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Though, you realise, it is not my fault, well. not every time. Estel is well known also as the Lord of Impeccable Timing between those Elves who know him, and is always running into things, falling over, knocking people down, at the most unfortunate moments. it's a habit of his," Leoglas said almost sadly as he looked down at the inert figure of his best friend, shaking his head with amusement.
By now, the rest of the company had been alerted to the disruption, and had turned back rather quickly, they now all arrived in a gaggle. "What happened?" cried Boromir, golden-brown eyes darting everywhere around them in search of something that might have attacked the northerner, striking him unconscious, ever wary of their surroundings. Pippin and Merry were staring, open-mouthed, at their still friend still in a heap upon the stony ground, Gandalf was frowning, and Gimli looked very confused under his flaming-red beard.
"Legolas knocked out Strider," explained Frodo to the bemused fellowship succinctly, and watched as all the pairs of eyes swivelled towards the elf, who had looked up coolly as he heard his name being spoken.
He raised a slender golden brow, and stepped away from the body, one pale hand shaking a long finger, "Nay, nay, nay, I am taking *no* blame for this one. it was his own fault, I had nothing to do with it." he placed a hand upon his heart sincerly, "I am no ranger killer."
"Oh? And I suppose he just ran into a rock of his own accord, did he Master Elf?" growled Gimli, exaggerating slightly his anger at the company's unexpected stop and wishing to ridicule the balsted elf in front of everyone and score a point of the fair-one's pride.
Legolas' eyes hardened immediately and flashed bright green, as he himself exaggerated bending his neck down to talk to the dwarf, who fumed at the recognisable silent-taunt. "Actually, Master Dwarf," he put such an accent on the word 'dwarf' to make it sound something distasteful, something to be spat out, "He did. My witnesses, if they'd be so obliged, can confirm this for me," he looked imploringly to Frodo and Sam, who studiously looked away, not wishing to incur the wrath of Gimli, as they knew would well be roused if either took sides.
Gimli merely grunted darkly as Gandalf stepped forward, "There shall be no need for a trial; you shall call no witnesses, Thranduilion." He let his midnight-blue gaze wander down to his dark-haired friend, still slumped on the floor at their feet, "We must, however, stop now, it seems. Get him up and into a more comfortable position." He smiled slightly, beard twitching, as he looked to Legolas again, "Seeing as he did aquire this unfortunate injury in your presence, Dian Las [Little One, a nickname of Legolas' since childhood], I give the task of lifting and carrying to you." He turned away in a flush of bluey-grey robes, about ready to lead them to a safe resting spot.
Legolas rolled his eyes and muttered, "Aren't I the lucky one," as he hefted his best friend on to his narrow shoulders with surprising ease, much to the amusement of Merry and Pippin who happened to be standing nearby, still gawking at Aragorn.
Gandalf, his sharp ears having picked up on this without hesitation, turned and looked back, trying not to smile beneath his beard, and scolded amiably, "As I remember it, Legolas, the Lord of Impeccable Timing aquires most of his unfortunate injuries in your presence. now, I wonder why that is," the innocent tone of his voice made Merry and Pippin snort, as well as the jeering name for the ranger.
"I have no idea," the elf replied smoothly, the picture of calm, "And it is through no fault of my own if the heavy lump is too clumsy for his own good, even for a Man," Legolas groaned, his calm visade lost; the weight upon his shoulders impeding his ability to speak and draw breath effectively.
Merely a few days previous, Boromir, who was walking ahead of Gandalf now but still well in earshot, would have taken this a major slight against his race, and would've confronted the Elven warrior about it. But now he merely grinned, shaking his head in amusement; the friendships he had formed quickly in the fellowship, may it be between man, elf, wizard, hobbit and even dwarf, had opened his eyes to other cultures. and the mocking insults bantered about between the company, especially between Legolas and Aragorn, were a part of daily life to him now. ~Besides~ he thought, justifying his own thoughts ~they are very amusing~
Merry piped up, walking near the back, "I am guessing this is pretty regular for you, then, Legolas?"
"You have no idea," the elf moaned. "You know, I think he likes me to carry him everywhere, he gets himself worked over so often, usually with inanimate objects, might I add."
Boromir turned his head and grinned, "One would have thought you would have built up some muscles by then, elf," he called, not unkindly.
Legolas rolled his eyes and wearily declared, "I could snap you like a twig, Steward," he said, his tone suggesting he had laid down this claim many a time before. The Gondorimm just chuckled and turned back as they came to an adequate clearing. Legolas thankfully, and none too gently, relieved his load, and set about arranging the ranger's limp arms and legs around him as the rest of the company, thankful for the unexpected break, sat down.
"That was quite a blow," Frodo came up beside him, still concerned for the welfare of their absent friend, though Aragorn looked a little better now with all the blood cleared away from his face. There were still some hefty bruises beginning to appear, and the gentle-hobbit guess Strider's nose would be so for a few days yet.
"I can assure you it is nothing worse than what he has had before," Legolas' blue-green eyes twinkled silver. He stood, stretching his aching back - his friend's not-inconsiderable weight having jarred it. "Walking into doors as someone has opened them from the other side, running into roads only to be hit with oncoming horses, falling down elf-holes that someone has only just removed the cover off, throwing snowballs at the exact moment my father stands in front of me. the list goes on... it is something he is well-known for in the House of Thranduil."
"Really?" Pippin piped up from the other side of the clearing, the others had all been silent, even Gimli who now looked faintly amused, as they listened to Legolas ranting, "But he always seems so sure-footed all the time."
"He is not," was all Legolas could say with a shrug. It was at that precise moment that Aragorn chose to wake up and deign them with his company, the rest of the fellowship dashed to him and the ranger was greeted with the sight of eight eager faces as his misty-grey eyes opened slowly to a crack, blinked a few times, opened fully and finally focused on them all. "Hurrah, he *is* alive," Legolas cried triumphantly from his upside-down postion in Aragorn's eyes. "Three cheers for the Lord of Impeccable Timing!"
The merry cheers that followed could be heard by every creature inhabiting the rock plain.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Frodo was extremely amused.
He found himself in the rather demanding process of avidly watching two of his companions very carefully. And had been for a couple of minutes or so. ~Well I never~ Was his final conclusion on the whole scenario as he turned to Sam, for the gardener was also watching the pair, mirth near-dancing in his deep-brown eyes as he sucked thoughtfully on his pipe.
"To look at them, and if you didn't know better, you'd think they were simply a couple of hobbit-lads, wouldn't you?"
"Aye, Mr. Frodo," Samwise muttered, shaking his head and not taking his eyes of the two, smoke unfurling itself from corners of the grin his mouth currently found itself in. "That's a strange thought, though, make no mistake," he added, taking a draw from his pipe once more.
"It is, rather, isn't it?" Frodo's mouth quirked and he turned back to the rather attention-grabbing scene. For the two halfings were not watching two hobbit-lads - one might guess from such a comment that they were observing Merry and Pippin in their usual display of endearing immaturity. No, as strange as it may seem, the two halfings were actually captivated by the sight of Strider, a rugged and battle-weary ranger of the North, and Legolas Greenleaf, a prince of Elves and famed warrior, many millenias old, childishly shoving one another with the intent of knocking the other over.
It had started out simply enough, Aragorn and Legolas had been walking side by side, talking with each other - who knew what about, something obscure no doubt - when the man had stumbled over a loose rock upon the path, knocked into his best friend and had clung to him as he attempted to right himself once more. The elf, mayhap in jest - for it was always hard to tell with Elves - percieving this as an invitation for a fight, had pushed him back, so as the ranger had stumbled in the other direction, almost falling once more. Aragorn had swiftly retaliated, knocking the Legolas back a few steps with a heavy hand to the chest, and so it had continued. The pair kept walking onwards, not holding up the company in any way as it traveled, and didn't seem consciously aware of what they were doing, for it seemed instinctive that they try and out-do one another, as they both kept their eyes ahead, just reaching out with a strong arm every now and then. It was almost as though the two would forget for a while, minds on other things, then, when one remembered, there would be a sudden bout of shoving and pushing, which would then subside and so on.
At the minute, a rare bout and the one that had caught Frodo and Sam's attention, it seemed as though Aragorn was winning, he managed just recently to push Legolas so the elf nearly caught himself on a jutting piece of stone from an outcropping of rocks they had been walking by at the time. The elf had swiftly retaliated, knocking Strider back several paces with a well placed blow to the sturdy shoulder - and the two hobbits observing percieved that it was now Aragorn's due turn in this eccentric duel of pushing and shoving. They awaited to see what would happen. ~Strider is the only man who would ever be able to challenge an elf in such a way~ Frodo thought rightly he knew the ranger had been raised among Elves, and that he and the prince of Mirkwood had been friends for an exceedingly long time, but still... Elves were the Firstborn, and if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, Frodo would not believe that any elf, especially Legolas Greenleaf who was always so dignified and graceful, would engage in such a sport. ~Then again~ he mused ~It's pretty fun to watch, and I'll bet my mushrooms that this isn't the first time it's happened~
Aragorn now, it seemed, had decided that enough was enough, and it was time to put an end to the whole thing. He gathered himself together, and with all his might, hurled his whole body towards his Elven-friend in the hope of throwing him to the ground and triumphing.
Legolas merely side-stepped to the left.
*CRACK!* Aragorn hit the boulder that they were walking past with full force, face-first. "Oh, Valar!" Frodo cried, and he raced to the scene of the accident, Sam following closely behind, pipe forgotten. They reached their companions before the rest of the fellowship even realised what was going on - Strider wasn't moving. Frodo hauled the ranger onto his back with difficulty, and gasped. There was blood flowing from his long nose, and deep cuts decorated the unconscious face. Frodo patted the cheek of his friend, trying to gain some kind of response, but nothing would bring back the northerner from whatever place his mind was. The gentle-hobbit glanced up at the elf in shock, to find Legolas gazing down at his best friend, fair head on one side, as if puzzled. "You've knocked him out," Frodo stated, his voice taking on a barely accusatory tone, his wide, winter-blue eyes fixed on the warrior.
"So, it would appear," Legolas muttered, still seemingly perplexed by the string of events, a single crease showing between his fine brows. "He does this a lot," he added as if to reassure the hobbit, eye flickering to Frodo and then back again.
Sam, who had also been patting the ranger's cheek, looked up, astounded, "How many times have you done this, Mr. Legolas?"
"Oh, a fair few," the elf replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Though, you realise, it is not my fault, well. not every time. Estel is well known also as the Lord of Impeccable Timing between those Elves who know him, and is always running into things, falling over, knocking people down, at the most unfortunate moments. it's a habit of his," Leoglas said almost sadly as he looked down at the inert figure of his best friend, shaking his head with amusement.
By now, the rest of the company had been alerted to the disruption, and had turned back rather quickly, they now all arrived in a gaggle. "What happened?" cried Boromir, golden-brown eyes darting everywhere around them in search of something that might have attacked the northerner, striking him unconscious, ever wary of their surroundings. Pippin and Merry were staring, open-mouthed, at their still friend still in a heap upon the stony ground, Gandalf was frowning, and Gimli looked very confused under his flaming-red beard.
"Legolas knocked out Strider," explained Frodo to the bemused fellowship succinctly, and watched as all the pairs of eyes swivelled towards the elf, who had looked up coolly as he heard his name being spoken.
He raised a slender golden brow, and stepped away from the body, one pale hand shaking a long finger, "Nay, nay, nay, I am taking *no* blame for this one. it was his own fault, I had nothing to do with it." he placed a hand upon his heart sincerly, "I am no ranger killer."
"Oh? And I suppose he just ran into a rock of his own accord, did he Master Elf?" growled Gimli, exaggerating slightly his anger at the company's unexpected stop and wishing to ridicule the balsted elf in front of everyone and score a point of the fair-one's pride.
Legolas' eyes hardened immediately and flashed bright green, as he himself exaggerated bending his neck down to talk to the dwarf, who fumed at the recognisable silent-taunt. "Actually, Master Dwarf," he put such an accent on the word 'dwarf' to make it sound something distasteful, something to be spat out, "He did. My witnesses, if they'd be so obliged, can confirm this for me," he looked imploringly to Frodo and Sam, who studiously looked away, not wishing to incur the wrath of Gimli, as they knew would well be roused if either took sides.
Gimli merely grunted darkly as Gandalf stepped forward, "There shall be no need for a trial; you shall call no witnesses, Thranduilion." He let his midnight-blue gaze wander down to his dark-haired friend, still slumped on the floor at their feet, "We must, however, stop now, it seems. Get him up and into a more comfortable position." He smiled slightly, beard twitching, as he looked to Legolas again, "Seeing as he did aquire this unfortunate injury in your presence, Dian Las [Little One, a nickname of Legolas' since childhood], I give the task of lifting and carrying to you." He turned away in a flush of bluey-grey robes, about ready to lead them to a safe resting spot.
Legolas rolled his eyes and muttered, "Aren't I the lucky one," as he hefted his best friend on to his narrow shoulders with surprising ease, much to the amusement of Merry and Pippin who happened to be standing nearby, still gawking at Aragorn.
Gandalf, his sharp ears having picked up on this without hesitation, turned and looked back, trying not to smile beneath his beard, and scolded amiably, "As I remember it, Legolas, the Lord of Impeccable Timing aquires most of his unfortunate injuries in your presence. now, I wonder why that is," the innocent tone of his voice made Merry and Pippin snort, as well as the jeering name for the ranger.
"I have no idea," the elf replied smoothly, the picture of calm, "And it is through no fault of my own if the heavy lump is too clumsy for his own good, even for a Man," Legolas groaned, his calm visade lost; the weight upon his shoulders impeding his ability to speak and draw breath effectively.
Merely a few days previous, Boromir, who was walking ahead of Gandalf now but still well in earshot, would have taken this a major slight against his race, and would've confronted the Elven warrior about it. But now he merely grinned, shaking his head in amusement; the friendships he had formed quickly in the fellowship, may it be between man, elf, wizard, hobbit and even dwarf, had opened his eyes to other cultures. and the mocking insults bantered about between the company, especially between Legolas and Aragorn, were a part of daily life to him now. ~Besides~ he thought, justifying his own thoughts ~they are very amusing~
Merry piped up, walking near the back, "I am guessing this is pretty regular for you, then, Legolas?"
"You have no idea," the elf moaned. "You know, I think he likes me to carry him everywhere, he gets himself worked over so often, usually with inanimate objects, might I add."
Boromir turned his head and grinned, "One would have thought you would have built up some muscles by then, elf," he called, not unkindly.
Legolas rolled his eyes and wearily declared, "I could snap you like a twig, Steward," he said, his tone suggesting he had laid down this claim many a time before. The Gondorimm just chuckled and turned back as they came to an adequate clearing. Legolas thankfully, and none too gently, relieved his load, and set about arranging the ranger's limp arms and legs around him as the rest of the company, thankful for the unexpected break, sat down.
"That was quite a blow," Frodo came up beside him, still concerned for the welfare of their absent friend, though Aragorn looked a little better now with all the blood cleared away from his face. There were still some hefty bruises beginning to appear, and the gentle-hobbit guess Strider's nose would be so for a few days yet.
"I can assure you it is nothing worse than what he has had before," Legolas' blue-green eyes twinkled silver. He stood, stretching his aching back - his friend's not-inconsiderable weight having jarred it. "Walking into doors as someone has opened them from the other side, running into roads only to be hit with oncoming horses, falling down elf-holes that someone has only just removed the cover off, throwing snowballs at the exact moment my father stands in front of me. the list goes on... it is something he is well-known for in the House of Thranduil."
"Really?" Pippin piped up from the other side of the clearing, the others had all been silent, even Gimli who now looked faintly amused, as they listened to Legolas ranting, "But he always seems so sure-footed all the time."
"He is not," was all Legolas could say with a shrug. It was at that precise moment that Aragorn chose to wake up and deign them with his company, the rest of the fellowship dashed to him and the ranger was greeted with the sight of eight eager faces as his misty-grey eyes opened slowly to a crack, blinked a few times, opened fully and finally focused on them all. "Hurrah, he *is* alive," Legolas cried triumphantly from his upside-down postion in Aragorn's eyes. "Three cheers for the Lord of Impeccable Timing!"
The merry cheers that followed could be heard by every creature inhabiting the rock plain.