A/N: I'm SOOOOOOO sorry for the delay of chapter four, but my computer
died completely on me for 5 days (during which it was absolutely HELL), but
also during which I have come up with more sadistic ideas. I have also
developed a new style of writing, sort of Lord of the Rings-ish. I am also
highly obsessed and sympathetic for Elves. I keep getting sadder every time
I see Haldir die..
Guess what? My mom and dad want me to publish my story Spiders, which I wrote for an LA assignment, and got 99%.. the mark lost for underlining the title of my Table of Contents. *Scowls *
Once again, I own nothing Tolkienish. Nada. Zilch. Zippo. NOTHING!!!!!! *Sob *
On with the show.. erm.. story!!!!!!! Sorry if any elvish is wrong, but I have only recently been informed that The Grey Company is not pure Tokien, and have not had time to find other things.
Yours Truly: That Sindarin dictionary.where can I find it? *rubbing hands greedily *
* * *
"The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark." Forth from the band of golden haired elves came Haldir, guardian of Lothlorien. Gimli huffed, but remained silent. Then Haldir's eyes came to fall upon the battered, peacefully sleeping elf in Aragorn's strong arms.
"Ai Elbereth, Aragorn, mani marte?" Haldir uttered quietly, not taking his eyes from Legolas.
"There is time yet for explanations later, Haldir of Lorien. Now we seek your shelter and protection."
Gimli was beginning to feel more and more nervous, staring into the deadly arrow tips only restrained by the hateful woodland elves. "Aragorn! These woods are perilous. We should go back."
Haldir now looked to the dwarf. "You have entered the realm of the Lady of the wood. You cannot go back. Come, and quickly," he looked worriedly down at Legolas. "She is waiting."
Haldir turned, and without glancing back, bounded back the way he had come. Aragorn just as swiftly ran after him, careful with the fragile form resting in his arms. The others followed silently.
Haldir slowed just enough until Aragorn caught up. He spoke quietly, hoping not to trouble the rest of the Fellowship. "Tell me, Aragorn, what happened to him?"
Aragorn looked down at the elf, studying the deep slash across his front, as if he, too, could not comprehend what had taken place. He shook his head. "To tell you the truth, Haldir, I do not believe I know enough to tell you. But I worry for him, though he claims to be fine."
Haldir shook his head, still genuinely puzzled. "Let us be swift, then. He will be treated in our city." No more was said between the two, as they ran on towards the city in the trees.
* * *
"Eight that there are here, yet nine there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him?" Celeborn inquired of the Fellowship, with an ancient, yet unaged face of wisdom. All were silent, for none wished to recount the earlier events.
Galadriel then spoke, with her musical, enchanting voice, captivating the minds of those before her. "He has fallen into shadow." Genuine shock and horror there was in her words, as she understood the sorrowful thoughts of the Fellowship. Yet quickly she moved on from the topic, knowing the despair of the seven before her.
Aragorn, however, did not pay heed to her spoken words, for her voice entered his head, and spoke to him.
What has become of Legolas, Aragorn son of Arathorn?
That, I cannot fathom, my lady. He speaks as if he is well, but I fear for him.
Fear no more, Isildur's heir. He is mending, and is in the care of our best healers.
What of his condition? Is there anything serious wrong?
Galadriel's voice wavered in laughter, a sound almost childish in its merriment, from the most ancient of elves. Legolas heals quickly. Nay, Aragorn, you have naught to fear for. Although he has yet to awake, his wounds seal, and they are not great.
Then I have fretted all along for naught.
Galadriel's voice then ceased in its laughter, and became grave. Not quite, son of Arathorn. Not quite. A barely audible sigh could be heard only to Aragorn, as he listened on in anxiety. A return from Mandos is something that does not rest one's soul. Be careful with him, Aragorn. His spirit may yet be fragile.
Aragorn faded out from the voices in his mind, and heard only the last of Galadriel and Celeborn's words. With words of comfort, they were sent quietly away from the Elven chamber. Aragorn turned to leave, but a gentle hand on his shoulder restrained him. He turned to find Haldir.
"Come, Aragorn. Follow me." Nothing more was needed to encourage him to follow. Oblivious to Aragorn's leave, the rest of the Fellowship blundered on through the magnificent wonders of the golden wood, in search of silent consoling from naught but the peace lingering in the still forest air.
* * *
Slight breath could be heard gratefully from the Elven prince of Mirkwood. A distance from the sleeping Elf sat Haldir and Legolas, conversing in quiet undertones, so as not to disturb him.
"Tell me what you know, Aragorn, and what remains shall be said from Legolas," pleaded Haldir, for he knew the prince's wounds not to be of sword and arrow.
Aragorn sighed in defeat. "We ran from Moria, and collapsed in the glory of warm sunlight upon the cliffs abiding outside the mines. All were stricken by Gandalf's fall, yet we had to move on. Nearly we departed, but Legolas remained, standing still like a thing of stone, peering out across the world. He spoke of guilt, believing that he could have prevented death, falsely trusting that he was no good for the Fellowship." Aragorn sighed wearily. "Ere I could move, he had vanished off the steep slope of rock."
Disbelief clouded Haldir's gaze. "Those cliffs are treacherous. Death only could result of a fall that long."
Aragorn's troubled blue gaze rose to meet the confusion of the guardian. "And that it did, my friend. For hours, death conquered him. Yet as we ran, life flowed again weakly in his veins, and he returned weary to us." Disquieted haze misted Aragorn's mind and eyes. "When he wakes, do not speak of our words. He would not wish any to know of what he said, and how he acted.
Haldir nodded subtle understanding, and silence settled in the air about them, as Elven healers tended to the fallen prince of Mirkwood.
* * *
Darkness began to lift from the world; senses began to flow naturally again. Numbness.nothing had feeling..
Too suddenly, again, it did.
His torso and chest ached terribly. He could feel some of his ribs were cracked, and a dull pain throbbed in his slight wrist. Quiet murmuring flowed through the peaceful air, and he lay, not awake, yet not asleep, waiting for the quiet again. The trees whispered amongst themselves, though he was too weary to listen. And.real voices.people.not alone. Could they not just leave? Could he not linger on in the unspoken peace of darkness? But unconsciousness denied his wishes, and he felt reality absorb his body. Sight descended upon his surroundings, slowly revealing a magically glimmering city resting in the wide malorn trees.
Where am I.how did I get here? Who is moving? Who is talking? Why did they stop? What happened? Why do I ache? Who stands above me?
Memories.
Memories bombarded his gentle heart mercilessly, playing over and over relentless mental pictures..
Mithrander.
Fallen.
Running.
Falling.
Dead..
No.
"Legolas?"
The elf emerged from his thoughts, staring with wide, innocent eyes at the man standing over him.
"Legolas? How do you feel?" He could not miss the slight edge of instruction in Aragorn's voice, like a mother chiding a stubborn child.
"Aragorn.I.." His voice trailed off. How would he respond? Surely Aragorn had not forgotten the earlier events. "When did we arrive in Lorien?" He avoided the subject. He moved to sit up, but the strong hands of another elf restrained him. Too weak with confusion and an unreasonable exhaustion, he relented and slid back down. "Haldir?"
"Aye, Prince Legolas. Rest. You are weary."
I should not be, thought Legolas. I have slept while the others toiled onwards. Why am I so weary? I have not the right to rest still.
Legolas once more fought to rise, but again he was held back. "Please, my prince. By tomorrow you shall be able to wander these woods. You heal swift, but without rest you will never recover." Legolas hated being treated like a child; but there was truth in Haldir's words, and he yielded.
He perceived the healers tending to his body, bandaging his wounds, stifling blood. And as he watched on, his senses ebbed from reality into a world of silent black, where he no longer thought, and time passed unconsciously by in quiet streams of blurred nothingness.
* * *
The quiet murmuring of the trees came softly to the Elven ears. He listened.he longed for the dense forests of Mirkwood, where once he wandered, springing from tree to tree, escaping the prison of the palace. His heart pleaded him to remain here, where he could live without the royal boundaries.
Indeed, the pain of his wounds had diminished to barely a throb, and now Legolas wandered alone the vast wonders of Lothlorien. He then sprang upon the low branch of a particularly tall tree, and darting from limb to limb, felt the joy and boundless freedom he once felt when he was merely one hundred years of age.
He came to rest upon a bare, wide branch, and there sat, peering over and through the mingling boughs of the woods. And sorrow once more came to rest heavily upon his heart.
I have caused so much grief for the others.too much trouble for them. How difficult the hobbits must be finding this.and then I go and add to it.what use is an elf if he merely adds to the tears of those he knows?
One friend remains on this journey.and I do not consider laying my thoughts upon the already troubled mind of Aragorn. Mithrander.he has left us.and he may still be here, had I ran to his rescue. What do they think of me? Surely they disgrace me; I cannot save my dear friend, and in that I rest continually more malady upon already grief-ridden minds.
By now, tears had begun to christen the fair cheeks of the elf, and he wiped them away hurriedly, as if someone was watching. Softly, he began to chant a song through his suppressed sobs, through his deep misery oblivious to a stalking creature below him.
* * *
CHRIST, I LOVE CLIFFHANGERS!!!!!!!! *Ducks from randomly throw objects *
I am going to start on chapter 5 RIGHT NOW! I have SUCH good plans for this story. I have created Legolas' song (called "Lament"), and a wonderful reviewer, whom I do not know the pen name of, is currently translating it, but I love you anywayz!
Chapter five to go up as soon as the song is translated and/or as soon as I finish typing it. Tell me how that was. Note: I know this is kind of going on with the same old stuff, but TWISTS TO COME!!!!!!!
Mwahahaha...
R&R!
~Searcher of Souls~
Guess what? My mom and dad want me to publish my story Spiders, which I wrote for an LA assignment, and got 99%.. the mark lost for underlining the title of my Table of Contents. *Scowls *
Once again, I own nothing Tolkienish. Nada. Zilch. Zippo. NOTHING!!!!!! *Sob *
On with the show.. erm.. story!!!!!!! Sorry if any elvish is wrong, but I have only recently been informed that The Grey Company is not pure Tokien, and have not had time to find other things.
Yours Truly: That Sindarin dictionary.where can I find it? *rubbing hands greedily *
* * *
"The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark." Forth from the band of golden haired elves came Haldir, guardian of Lothlorien. Gimli huffed, but remained silent. Then Haldir's eyes came to fall upon the battered, peacefully sleeping elf in Aragorn's strong arms.
"Ai Elbereth, Aragorn, mani marte?" Haldir uttered quietly, not taking his eyes from Legolas.
"There is time yet for explanations later, Haldir of Lorien. Now we seek your shelter and protection."
Gimli was beginning to feel more and more nervous, staring into the deadly arrow tips only restrained by the hateful woodland elves. "Aragorn! These woods are perilous. We should go back."
Haldir now looked to the dwarf. "You have entered the realm of the Lady of the wood. You cannot go back. Come, and quickly," he looked worriedly down at Legolas. "She is waiting."
Haldir turned, and without glancing back, bounded back the way he had come. Aragorn just as swiftly ran after him, careful with the fragile form resting in his arms. The others followed silently.
Haldir slowed just enough until Aragorn caught up. He spoke quietly, hoping not to trouble the rest of the Fellowship. "Tell me, Aragorn, what happened to him?"
Aragorn looked down at the elf, studying the deep slash across his front, as if he, too, could not comprehend what had taken place. He shook his head. "To tell you the truth, Haldir, I do not believe I know enough to tell you. But I worry for him, though he claims to be fine."
Haldir shook his head, still genuinely puzzled. "Let us be swift, then. He will be treated in our city." No more was said between the two, as they ran on towards the city in the trees.
* * *
"Eight that there are here, yet nine there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him?" Celeborn inquired of the Fellowship, with an ancient, yet unaged face of wisdom. All were silent, for none wished to recount the earlier events.
Galadriel then spoke, with her musical, enchanting voice, captivating the minds of those before her. "He has fallen into shadow." Genuine shock and horror there was in her words, as she understood the sorrowful thoughts of the Fellowship. Yet quickly she moved on from the topic, knowing the despair of the seven before her.
Aragorn, however, did not pay heed to her spoken words, for her voice entered his head, and spoke to him.
What has become of Legolas, Aragorn son of Arathorn?
That, I cannot fathom, my lady. He speaks as if he is well, but I fear for him.
Fear no more, Isildur's heir. He is mending, and is in the care of our best healers.
What of his condition? Is there anything serious wrong?
Galadriel's voice wavered in laughter, a sound almost childish in its merriment, from the most ancient of elves. Legolas heals quickly. Nay, Aragorn, you have naught to fear for. Although he has yet to awake, his wounds seal, and they are not great.
Then I have fretted all along for naught.
Galadriel's voice then ceased in its laughter, and became grave. Not quite, son of Arathorn. Not quite. A barely audible sigh could be heard only to Aragorn, as he listened on in anxiety. A return from Mandos is something that does not rest one's soul. Be careful with him, Aragorn. His spirit may yet be fragile.
Aragorn faded out from the voices in his mind, and heard only the last of Galadriel and Celeborn's words. With words of comfort, they were sent quietly away from the Elven chamber. Aragorn turned to leave, but a gentle hand on his shoulder restrained him. He turned to find Haldir.
"Come, Aragorn. Follow me." Nothing more was needed to encourage him to follow. Oblivious to Aragorn's leave, the rest of the Fellowship blundered on through the magnificent wonders of the golden wood, in search of silent consoling from naught but the peace lingering in the still forest air.
* * *
Slight breath could be heard gratefully from the Elven prince of Mirkwood. A distance from the sleeping Elf sat Haldir and Legolas, conversing in quiet undertones, so as not to disturb him.
"Tell me what you know, Aragorn, and what remains shall be said from Legolas," pleaded Haldir, for he knew the prince's wounds not to be of sword and arrow.
Aragorn sighed in defeat. "We ran from Moria, and collapsed in the glory of warm sunlight upon the cliffs abiding outside the mines. All were stricken by Gandalf's fall, yet we had to move on. Nearly we departed, but Legolas remained, standing still like a thing of stone, peering out across the world. He spoke of guilt, believing that he could have prevented death, falsely trusting that he was no good for the Fellowship." Aragorn sighed wearily. "Ere I could move, he had vanished off the steep slope of rock."
Disbelief clouded Haldir's gaze. "Those cliffs are treacherous. Death only could result of a fall that long."
Aragorn's troubled blue gaze rose to meet the confusion of the guardian. "And that it did, my friend. For hours, death conquered him. Yet as we ran, life flowed again weakly in his veins, and he returned weary to us." Disquieted haze misted Aragorn's mind and eyes. "When he wakes, do not speak of our words. He would not wish any to know of what he said, and how he acted.
Haldir nodded subtle understanding, and silence settled in the air about them, as Elven healers tended to the fallen prince of Mirkwood.
* * *
Darkness began to lift from the world; senses began to flow naturally again. Numbness.nothing had feeling..
Too suddenly, again, it did.
His torso and chest ached terribly. He could feel some of his ribs were cracked, and a dull pain throbbed in his slight wrist. Quiet murmuring flowed through the peaceful air, and he lay, not awake, yet not asleep, waiting for the quiet again. The trees whispered amongst themselves, though he was too weary to listen. And.real voices.people.not alone. Could they not just leave? Could he not linger on in the unspoken peace of darkness? But unconsciousness denied his wishes, and he felt reality absorb his body. Sight descended upon his surroundings, slowly revealing a magically glimmering city resting in the wide malorn trees.
Where am I.how did I get here? Who is moving? Who is talking? Why did they stop? What happened? Why do I ache? Who stands above me?
Memories.
Memories bombarded his gentle heart mercilessly, playing over and over relentless mental pictures..
Mithrander.
Fallen.
Running.
Falling.
Dead..
No.
"Legolas?"
The elf emerged from his thoughts, staring with wide, innocent eyes at the man standing over him.
"Legolas? How do you feel?" He could not miss the slight edge of instruction in Aragorn's voice, like a mother chiding a stubborn child.
"Aragorn.I.." His voice trailed off. How would he respond? Surely Aragorn had not forgotten the earlier events. "When did we arrive in Lorien?" He avoided the subject. He moved to sit up, but the strong hands of another elf restrained him. Too weak with confusion and an unreasonable exhaustion, he relented and slid back down. "Haldir?"
"Aye, Prince Legolas. Rest. You are weary."
I should not be, thought Legolas. I have slept while the others toiled onwards. Why am I so weary? I have not the right to rest still.
Legolas once more fought to rise, but again he was held back. "Please, my prince. By tomorrow you shall be able to wander these woods. You heal swift, but without rest you will never recover." Legolas hated being treated like a child; but there was truth in Haldir's words, and he yielded.
He perceived the healers tending to his body, bandaging his wounds, stifling blood. And as he watched on, his senses ebbed from reality into a world of silent black, where he no longer thought, and time passed unconsciously by in quiet streams of blurred nothingness.
* * *
The quiet murmuring of the trees came softly to the Elven ears. He listened.he longed for the dense forests of Mirkwood, where once he wandered, springing from tree to tree, escaping the prison of the palace. His heart pleaded him to remain here, where he could live without the royal boundaries.
Indeed, the pain of his wounds had diminished to barely a throb, and now Legolas wandered alone the vast wonders of Lothlorien. He then sprang upon the low branch of a particularly tall tree, and darting from limb to limb, felt the joy and boundless freedom he once felt when he was merely one hundred years of age.
He came to rest upon a bare, wide branch, and there sat, peering over and through the mingling boughs of the woods. And sorrow once more came to rest heavily upon his heart.
I have caused so much grief for the others.too much trouble for them. How difficult the hobbits must be finding this.and then I go and add to it.what use is an elf if he merely adds to the tears of those he knows?
One friend remains on this journey.and I do not consider laying my thoughts upon the already troubled mind of Aragorn. Mithrander.he has left us.and he may still be here, had I ran to his rescue. What do they think of me? Surely they disgrace me; I cannot save my dear friend, and in that I rest continually more malady upon already grief-ridden minds.
By now, tears had begun to christen the fair cheeks of the elf, and he wiped them away hurriedly, as if someone was watching. Softly, he began to chant a song through his suppressed sobs, through his deep misery oblivious to a stalking creature below him.
* * *
CHRIST, I LOVE CLIFFHANGERS!!!!!!!! *Ducks from randomly throw objects *
I am going to start on chapter 5 RIGHT NOW! I have SUCH good plans for this story. I have created Legolas' song (called "Lament"), and a wonderful reviewer, whom I do not know the pen name of, is currently translating it, but I love you anywayz!
Chapter five to go up as soon as the song is translated and/or as soon as I finish typing it. Tell me how that was. Note: I know this is kind of going on with the same old stuff, but TWISTS TO COME!!!!!!!
Mwahahaha...
R&R!
~Searcher of Souls~