A/N: Thank you so much for all of your gracious reviews! And, yes, I
realize I am updating very quickly, but boredom needs a cure. I trust you
will all hate me for the most part of this chapter, but OH WELL! R&R, I
have a good story plan.
In helpless horror, the Fellowship stared as Aragorn coaxed Legolas to return to them. And, not even an hour following the loss of Gandalf, Legolas fell.
"NO!" Aragorn cried out, but Legolas was already falling.. falling the ever long distance to the rocky terrain bellow. Aragorn whirled about to face the Fellowship with wide, terror stricken eyes. He said nothing, but sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him over hard, inconsistent land. The Fellowship needed no invitation to follow. Down, down they spiraled, leaping over the obstacles set to slow their pace.
Tireless, Aragorn banished his previous weary thoughts. He ran far ahead of the rest, desperate to save his friend. The welcoming sun now grew hot, angry and unforgiving. The gentle breeze elevated to a gale with the speed at which he ran. Randomly, he chose which corners to take, and which way to travel. There was no time any more. Time had forsaken them.
A great boulder loomed up, and Aragorn swiftly dodged to the left, leaping over a jagged barrier of smaller rocks. He knew the hobbits could not keep his pace, but he trusted Gimli and Boromir to lead them on.
There, among a patch of determinedly growing grass and weeds, lay a crumpled figure, unmoving.
"Ai Elbereth," Aragorn breathed out. He ran to Legolas, and knelt beside him. His fingers stroked the stray golden hair, as helpless tears dripped from his eyes. The rocks and absently scattered branches lining the cliff and ground had torn the tunic of the elf. Several shallow cuts decorated his fair face, though dripped no blood upon his cheeks. Inspecting further down the limp body, his eyes came to rest upon Legolas' arms and hands. Aragorn rolled up the elf's sleeves. His right was intact, but for random small bruises. But the left held a deep gash running from the lower arm to the shoulder. Blood seeped quickly from the cut. Tearing a strip of cloth from his own garments, Aragorn bound the wound to stall the bleeding. He realized how rapid and panicked his breathing had become, but did not allow himself space to calm.
Further inspection revealed a crimson stained section of the tunic, running diagonally from the left of Legolas' chest, down to his right side. Urgently, Aragorn carefully removed the tunic, praying to the Valar that his friend would live, if it were that he was still alive.
As the tunic freed the stomach and chest of the elf, it also freed a great wound, deep and wide, slicing through the pale flesh. Rapid waterfalls and lakes of warm, crimson liquid ran free, falling upon grey rocks, and staining the few strands of flimsy grass.
"No, no, ai Elbereth, no." Hopelessness shrouded all Aragorn's thought. He had seen this type of wound before.. he knew now undeniably serious a cut this deep was, and how the life would seep from the cut and flow away with the rapids of blood..
He turned to Legolas' face, and saw the pool of scarlet set in his mouth. Returning to gaze at the elf's wound, he listened and stared silently, hoping for a sign of breath.he lay his head lightly over his friend's stomach..
Silence.
Silence, and nothing more. No movement. Nothing.
Soft, padding footsteps approached, as the remainder of the Fellowship sprinted towards the two. Nothing was said, as they perceived the great slash across their elf friend's front, and the kneeling, weeping figure of their leader.
And there they stood, as rains of tears meddled with the crimson flow, and the rivers flowed on, over rocks and peaks, crusting eventually as twilight fell, and leaving a mark of the immense sorrow suffered there.
* * *
How long he had lay at the mercy of his own tears, Aragorn did not know. But what he did know was too devastating for him to think about. He roused the others, some from exhausted sleep, others from quiet sobbing.
"Come, my friends, for we can linger here no longer." He raised his eyes to the sky, and saw the merging pastels of pink, yellow, orange and purple, veiling the blue sky in the twilight. Then his eyes fell upon the fallen, once valiant elf before him. "He does not deserve to lie here for all eternity. Let us take him to Lothlorien, where he may be paid the honour he deserves."
The pain throbbing within his heart could not be withheld, as stray tears fled silently from his dark eyes. Gently, he hoisted Legolas so that one hand supported his upper back, and the other supported his knees.
Thus, the Fellowship departed Moria, two less than when they entered.
* * *
Legolas wandered the Halls of Mandos, wondering at their splendour. No more he felt the pain of his wounds, for he knew he had passed out of the time of Middle-earth, and into the realm of Valinor.
Aimlessly, he strayed down the many corridors, seeking what, he did not know. No thought entered his head, and he let his feet wander where they may.
Without warning, a splendid figure loomed up before him. Glory and might resonated from the mesmerizing form, though Legolas did not fear him. He knew well who stood before him.
"Manwë," he said, as he kneeled, respecting the high God.
"Legolas, why dost thou forsake them?" Manwë asked, and shook his head as if disappointed.
Legolas looked up, confusion clouding his stormy grey eyes.
"The Fellowship, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood," the God said. "Why dost thou leave them so needlessly?"
Legolas shook his head hopelessly. "I am of no use to them. If I cannot protect one friend, I cannot protect the rest."
"Nay, Legolas. Thy mind is clouded with grief. Thou do not see the reason. This madness is folly, dear prince." The soft, forgiving eyes radiated with pity.
"I do not belong among them. An elf would have been able to run and grasp Mithrandir's hand. And that simplest of acts I failed to do."
"Thou art blinded by thy sorrow, Prince Legolas. There is naught for thou to feel against thy self." Manwë placed his warm hands on Legolas' shoulders. "I am sorry, my child. But thou cannot rest here. Thy purpose upon Eä is not yet fulfilled. Those near to thou still shall have need of thy aid. Now return to Middle-earth, dear prince, and return to those who beckon you."
And as Aragorn ran carrying his fallen friend, he heard a faint, weak cough sputter from those dead, pale lips, which no more were lifeless.
TBC
A/N: Oh crap... *Ducks at random flying objects being thrown *
Hahahahaha, fooled you all, didn't I? That was SOOOOOO much fun to write. SADISTS UNITE!!!!!!!!!! So, I have just begun reading The Silmarilion, and I believe that Eä is another name for Middle-earth, but would someone who indeed has read and does understand The Silmarilion please clarify that for me?
For those others of you, Manwë is the mightiest of all the Valar, the creators of Middle-earth. And just for the information, Elbereth is one of the Valar. She is the goddess of the stars, I believe. But if I am indeed wrong about anything in here, please inform me of it!
Also, are there any people out there who can speak Elvish? I intend to learn it with one of my friends, but who knows when we will, so is there anyone I can contact to translate if I ever have need of translation?
I know I have updated quickly, but I refuse to do homework until the New Year and am very bored lately. So, I promise, this will have some good twists in it. I just came up with a whole load of ideas just a while ago.
~Searcher of Souls~
In helpless horror, the Fellowship stared as Aragorn coaxed Legolas to return to them. And, not even an hour following the loss of Gandalf, Legolas fell.
"NO!" Aragorn cried out, but Legolas was already falling.. falling the ever long distance to the rocky terrain bellow. Aragorn whirled about to face the Fellowship with wide, terror stricken eyes. He said nothing, but sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him over hard, inconsistent land. The Fellowship needed no invitation to follow. Down, down they spiraled, leaping over the obstacles set to slow their pace.
Tireless, Aragorn banished his previous weary thoughts. He ran far ahead of the rest, desperate to save his friend. The welcoming sun now grew hot, angry and unforgiving. The gentle breeze elevated to a gale with the speed at which he ran. Randomly, he chose which corners to take, and which way to travel. There was no time any more. Time had forsaken them.
A great boulder loomed up, and Aragorn swiftly dodged to the left, leaping over a jagged barrier of smaller rocks. He knew the hobbits could not keep his pace, but he trusted Gimli and Boromir to lead them on.
There, among a patch of determinedly growing grass and weeds, lay a crumpled figure, unmoving.
"Ai Elbereth," Aragorn breathed out. He ran to Legolas, and knelt beside him. His fingers stroked the stray golden hair, as helpless tears dripped from his eyes. The rocks and absently scattered branches lining the cliff and ground had torn the tunic of the elf. Several shallow cuts decorated his fair face, though dripped no blood upon his cheeks. Inspecting further down the limp body, his eyes came to rest upon Legolas' arms and hands. Aragorn rolled up the elf's sleeves. His right was intact, but for random small bruises. But the left held a deep gash running from the lower arm to the shoulder. Blood seeped quickly from the cut. Tearing a strip of cloth from his own garments, Aragorn bound the wound to stall the bleeding. He realized how rapid and panicked his breathing had become, but did not allow himself space to calm.
Further inspection revealed a crimson stained section of the tunic, running diagonally from the left of Legolas' chest, down to his right side. Urgently, Aragorn carefully removed the tunic, praying to the Valar that his friend would live, if it were that he was still alive.
As the tunic freed the stomach and chest of the elf, it also freed a great wound, deep and wide, slicing through the pale flesh. Rapid waterfalls and lakes of warm, crimson liquid ran free, falling upon grey rocks, and staining the few strands of flimsy grass.
"No, no, ai Elbereth, no." Hopelessness shrouded all Aragorn's thought. He had seen this type of wound before.. he knew now undeniably serious a cut this deep was, and how the life would seep from the cut and flow away with the rapids of blood..
He turned to Legolas' face, and saw the pool of scarlet set in his mouth. Returning to gaze at the elf's wound, he listened and stared silently, hoping for a sign of breath.he lay his head lightly over his friend's stomach..
Silence.
Silence, and nothing more. No movement. Nothing.
Soft, padding footsteps approached, as the remainder of the Fellowship sprinted towards the two. Nothing was said, as they perceived the great slash across their elf friend's front, and the kneeling, weeping figure of their leader.
And there they stood, as rains of tears meddled with the crimson flow, and the rivers flowed on, over rocks and peaks, crusting eventually as twilight fell, and leaving a mark of the immense sorrow suffered there.
* * *
How long he had lay at the mercy of his own tears, Aragorn did not know. But what he did know was too devastating for him to think about. He roused the others, some from exhausted sleep, others from quiet sobbing.
"Come, my friends, for we can linger here no longer." He raised his eyes to the sky, and saw the merging pastels of pink, yellow, orange and purple, veiling the blue sky in the twilight. Then his eyes fell upon the fallen, once valiant elf before him. "He does not deserve to lie here for all eternity. Let us take him to Lothlorien, where he may be paid the honour he deserves."
The pain throbbing within his heart could not be withheld, as stray tears fled silently from his dark eyes. Gently, he hoisted Legolas so that one hand supported his upper back, and the other supported his knees.
Thus, the Fellowship departed Moria, two less than when they entered.
* * *
Legolas wandered the Halls of Mandos, wondering at their splendour. No more he felt the pain of his wounds, for he knew he had passed out of the time of Middle-earth, and into the realm of Valinor.
Aimlessly, he strayed down the many corridors, seeking what, he did not know. No thought entered his head, and he let his feet wander where they may.
Without warning, a splendid figure loomed up before him. Glory and might resonated from the mesmerizing form, though Legolas did not fear him. He knew well who stood before him.
"Manwë," he said, as he kneeled, respecting the high God.
"Legolas, why dost thou forsake them?" Manwë asked, and shook his head as if disappointed.
Legolas looked up, confusion clouding his stormy grey eyes.
"The Fellowship, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood," the God said. "Why dost thou leave them so needlessly?"
Legolas shook his head hopelessly. "I am of no use to them. If I cannot protect one friend, I cannot protect the rest."
"Nay, Legolas. Thy mind is clouded with grief. Thou do not see the reason. This madness is folly, dear prince." The soft, forgiving eyes radiated with pity.
"I do not belong among them. An elf would have been able to run and grasp Mithrandir's hand. And that simplest of acts I failed to do."
"Thou art blinded by thy sorrow, Prince Legolas. There is naught for thou to feel against thy self." Manwë placed his warm hands on Legolas' shoulders. "I am sorry, my child. But thou cannot rest here. Thy purpose upon Eä is not yet fulfilled. Those near to thou still shall have need of thy aid. Now return to Middle-earth, dear prince, and return to those who beckon you."
And as Aragorn ran carrying his fallen friend, he heard a faint, weak cough sputter from those dead, pale lips, which no more were lifeless.
TBC
A/N: Oh crap... *Ducks at random flying objects being thrown *
Hahahahaha, fooled you all, didn't I? That was SOOOOOO much fun to write. SADISTS UNITE!!!!!!!!!! So, I have just begun reading The Silmarilion, and I believe that Eä is another name for Middle-earth, but would someone who indeed has read and does understand The Silmarilion please clarify that for me?
For those others of you, Manwë is the mightiest of all the Valar, the creators of Middle-earth. And just for the information, Elbereth is one of the Valar. She is the goddess of the stars, I believe. But if I am indeed wrong about anything in here, please inform me of it!
Also, are there any people out there who can speak Elvish? I intend to learn it with one of my friends, but who knows when we will, so is there anyone I can contact to translate if I ever have need of translation?
I know I have updated quickly, but I refuse to do homework until the New Year and am very bored lately. So, I promise, this will have some good twists in it. I just came up with a whole load of ideas just a while ago.
~Searcher of Souls~