Disclaimer: [insert name of author here] does not own [insert name of book] and even if [he/she] did, then [insert witty comment here].
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Sayanna: SHWWE?! Is that even a word? *shrugs* No matter. Thanks for reviewing.
Starbrat: No shit, Sherlock. Where do you think I got the idea? *sarcasm dripping from voice*
Paperclip Princess: Felicidades…
O.B.I.M.: Cow? COW?! What kind of a name is that?!!! How fearsome…Hey Cow! Sic 'em boy! *victim dies from laughter, not mini-Balrog* Glad you like my story!
Cassandra Thacker: NEZEN?! No comment…
Tina: Whaaattttt?! *whines* I happen to like Legolas! And yes, my friend, I realize that. I, too, read the Silmarillion, and that was my dummied-down version as I understood it. I do realize it wasn't entirely factual. For you, I will repeat what you wrote at the end of my story to set others straight.
What'd you do?! Copy the Silmarillion appendix?!!! Gee-whiz! FOTFL (Falls On The Floor Laughing) Like they say, great minds think alike. I actually did copy the Silmarillion appendix into my 'little book' because I don't happen to own a copy myself.
Katie: Short but sweet.
Aislin: I love you, man!!!!
Amen to that! Agent Smith RAWKS! Yes, my friend, he is using Elvish, but for reasons of his own. Don't worry. All your questions will be answered sooner or later. *smiles and looks mysterious* Heh, heh. Yeah, I get looks like that all the time. Can't imagine why…Havoc, huh? Heh, heh, heh. We'll see, we'll see. *looks mysterious again*
P.S. Both…
P.S.S. I'm glad you're so sympathetic…*runs off to corner and cries tears of joy*
P.S.S.S. (there might be another after this! Ack!) *says in sing-song voice* I went to see Matrix: Reloaded!! Yay! I'm going to go see Revolutions!
Renegade: Indeed…I dunno. Maybe he wanted variety. Like they say, variety is the spice of life. *laughs* Nah, I'm just kidding. That's not really why. You'll find out later on. MUCH later…Man, I love ellipsis…ellipses…how do you pluralize ellipsis? Never mind! I love the three dots thing!
Wertu: Luv' ya' much!
Orrina: 'Tis a shame, isn't it? Legolas! Get your ass back over here!!!!! *pet-elf scurries over with his proverbial tail between his legs* You can play later. Not now!
Moon Maiden: White shirts, huh? Well, my straitjacket used to be white but that was before I got one of the Valar (one of the rejects, mind you) to embroider and make it ALL PRETTIFUL!!!!!
Ainu Laire: *tears of joy become a deluge* I'm so LOVED!!!! T_T *tears pour down face* I want to thank my mom, *sob*, my yet-unnamed-mini-Balrog, *sob*…
And I promise I will update soon. Gods, this chapter is gonna be long! I've got the review responses, and Kat-chan's—oops, don't wanna talk about that yet!
Rory: Yay! My first flame! *SOME and pet-elf dance around bonfire* We shall be warm this winter!! Now. Down to business. *raises eyebrow* First of all, if you thought my story was boring, why did you read it in the first place, you dolt? What are you? A glutton for punishment. And second of all, *smiles brightly* this will be a Lego-mance. If you had waited patiently the romance would have come into play. What I would like to know is, how you thought there could be romance when they haven't even met yet. Just wait a minute would'ya?! Geez! *glares at flamer, then glares at mini-Balrog* Sic 'em boy! *Flamer's flame is shot back at flamer* Burn, baby! Burn! *laughs maniacally* Hee! *beams*
P.S. If you're going to criticize, at least criticize constructively.
Lady Undomiel: Thanks!!!! *beams like the sun* First a flame, then a praise! Hee! XD And I hope you get over your Name Block. I know how that feels...Sucks, don't it?!
The results of the name contest will be announced at the end of the chapter.
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Thanks to my beta-rah Kat-chan. She's baaaaacccckkkk!!! Three cheers for my stupidity! Hurrah! Hurray! Woohooooooooooo! *mother yells at author to get off the ceiling* *step-dad yells for both of them to shut up…he has a headache* *rotten tomatoes are flung* *pet-elf runs for life*
A million apologies for my lateness. I had severe writer's block and then I went off a videogame craze, playing night and day, with my parents,
Now! On to the story!
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Moon Song
Chapter 7 – Time and Past Time
Aragorn sat by the campfire, contemplating, his eyes focused on the flickering flames licking hungrily at the logs. The travel-worn garments of a Ranger adorned him again, the finery of the courts lying forgotten in Minas Tirith. Only the signet ring of his office gave him any sort of authority whatsoever in these lands. And that wasn't much, considering…But he and his companion were not here to force the native people to stand under his rule. They were in this strange land to make treaties and negotiate peace. However, the deeds of these people still seemed newly-wrought by many of the Gondorians, but his people also understood. His people…he had a people now, a place where he belonged after so long, wandering the lands like a wild man. His people and he understood the need for peace. They had had enough of war. He had had enough of war. Enough was enough.
"Musing about the misery of others? Or merely the misery of us?" The voice behind him derailed his train of thought. "Or are your thoughts centered on this mission of ours?"
Aragorn did not look up but instead threw a handful of kindling wood into the fire. The roaring fire devoured them in seconds. "Indeed, Legolas. It consumes my every thought."
His friend sat down beside him on the large boulder. "What, the misery or the mission?"
The Dúnadan rolled his eyes skyward. "Both."
Legolas' lips twitched slightly, as though he were trying not to smile.
"You are much too tense, mellonamin."
The Man turned his head and smiled sadly. "I cannot help but be so."
The Elf looked at him, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "One must be serene. Anxiety is not an option in these matters. Being cool, calm, and collected--" Legolas grimaced for a moment. "--however cliché that may sound, is a priority," he stated, speaking with many years of experience on his side, having been a diplomat and messenger many a time for his family, conveniently not giving thought to his friend's many years of serving under the alias of Thorongil.
"I'm afraid I must concede to your logic, o ancient one." Aragorn stood then and walked over to his pack on the opposite side of the fire, well out of arm's reach.
Legolas nodded in agreement then appeared slightly offended, as if suddenly realizing something. "Ancient?! Who are you calling ancient?!"
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Several days later, having already crossed the border into the Harad, they reached the River Lioman.
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Kat-chan here! Your friendly neighborhood beta-ing person-thingy. If the formatting on the paragraphs seems a little off, don't bug S.O.M.E. about it! Blame me; I'm trying to teach her a new way of typing conversations.
^_^; TRYING. Not SUCCEEDING, but TRYING.
Oh, my name on ff.net is Gryphon Gal, in case anyone wants to look me up. *winks* Scourge-chan likes my writing, which is saying something since she's SO DARN PICKY!!!! *glares*
*Scourge wallops Kat-chan/Gryphon Gal over the head. "HEY! Watch it! I'm giving you free advertising here!"*
See? SEE? No respect at all! *grumbles* How come SHE got to keep the mini-Legolas?! It ain't fair!
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SOME : *sigh* You give 'em books and give 'em books, and all they do is eat the covers. Hasn't she learned anything about author's notes?!…What a shame…Anyways I'm gonna restart that lil' paragraph and if anybody has something to say about it they can talk to my mini-Balrog-whom-I-shall-name-this-chapter.
BTW, he's not a mini, you dolt! I said pet-elf, but did not imply that he was a midget, chibi, plushie, etc.! Agghhh!
P.S. Kat-chan also writes under the name Kurome Shiretsu!
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Several days later, having already crossed the border into the Harad, they reached the River Lioman. The lazy river gleamed in the bright sunlight, wending its way through the desert, a court lady's bangle on a Haradrim's arm. The slow waters created a sort of oasis from the surrounding landscape, furthering the vision.
They had left their elvish steeds at the sparse woods on the border, to be collected later by the Elves of Ithilien from whom the horses had been borrowed. The Man and Elf continued on foot, making their slow, steady way to the Lioman River, plodding on sometimes when the moon lit the land.
After setting out early that morning, Aragorn spotted something rather odd to his sand-blinded eye. Several figures suddenly appeared from out of the landscape encompassing the Lioman oasis. He blinked in surprise, hoping to clear his eyes, and turned to his walking companion.
"Legolas, quickly. Tell me what your elf eyes see." He motioned hastily at the approaching figures.
"Seven men—Haradrim—armed with naught but a spear. They come to us masked…They are clearly agitated."
Aragorn frowned slightly, debating with himself whether to go forward or stay and wait for them. They carried only a spear—obviously just for intimidation, though it could still be used as a weapon—so they were clearly not a warparty. Perhaps they were an escort? By the time his thoughts cleared, the small party of desert dwellers had arrived.
One man stepped forth, appearing a little nervous. "Why do you…come to this place?" His hesitancy showed that he was unfamiliar with the words…or was it merely uneasiness?
Aragorn went to stand before him. "We wish to speak with your leader."
At his 'we', the Haradrim turned almost as one—though in an inconspicuous manner—to gaze with no little trepidation at Legolas. Their eyes widened just barely at the sight of his Elven features, but they returned their gaze to the Man by the time he finished his statement. The spokesman turned to another man behind him, a questioning look stretched across his face.
This man, who was so obviously the leader, stepped forward and gave them a hard, appraising look, his eyes narrowed. "You are Gondorians." He stated suspiciously. "What business have you here?"
The quondam Ranger, his face inscrutable, reiterated. "We come to you in a peaceful manner, merely desiring to speak with your leader." A wary look ghosted across the leader's face, and for a moment seemed ready to reject him, but he finally nodded in acquiescence.
"Follow me." He commanded and turned to walk away, but thought better of it and spun around to look them straight in the eye. "Just…don't try anything." The Haradrim drawled, the wary appearance back again. At last, he turned and started back, his men having already set out.
The Man and the Elf followed as meekly as lambs on a lead. They reached the camp rather quickly, the sun still high in the sky, as they rounded a sand dune and a clump of sage-grass near the river oasis.
Women and children saw the strangers, shrugged and went back to their business, whether it be playing, cooking or cleaning clothes in the nearby river. But all watched the visitors intently from beneath their lashes, curiosity warring with a want to seem unconcerned. Several questions flitted through their collective minds. Who could they be? What did they want with them? Were they dangerous? When the party finally and truly arrived, they halted at the edge of the camp. A unremarkable figure, Shamanyo, pushed his tent flap aside and walked out from his monolithic tent in the very center of the camp. All activity came to a screeching halt. Silence ruled.
The rest of the Haradrim party separated themselves and joined a group of armed men, all perched near the border of the camp.
The Shamanyo stood mere feet from the strangers, watching them closely. Then he spoke.
"Why come you to this place?" The shaman's face wrinkled inwards, forming a slight frown. "What want you with us?" His grammar was a bit off but his Westron was improving steadily.
The King of Gondor strode forward also and spoke. "My companion and I come to speak with you, sir, in hopes of negotiating a peace treaty between the Haradrim and the Gondorians. We seek only harmony with your people, nothing more."
Shamanyo's brow furrowed yet more, confusion in every feature. His Westron was good, but not that good. There were several words he did not recognize.
"Coras de ru kas?" He blurted, without thinking.
After the Shamanyo spoke, it was almost as if they had switched masks. Aragorn now bore a look of puzzlement and Shamanyo one of not quite comprehension. The Man and Elf's grasp of Haradrim was rudimentary at best, and the shaman's words mad no sense to them. The Haradrim leader's face dropped its look of misunderstanding and replaced it with a thoughtful gaze.
He needed someone he could trust. They needed someone they could trust. The two words he could identify showed him that what the Gondorian spoke of was of grave importance to his tribe. Who? He thought. An answer came almost instantly to his lips.
"Feanan." The shaman muttered. He turned to the group of armed men. "Feanan!" He called out.
The former Ranger assumed it was one of the guardsmen, then the whole camp took up the cry. Instead of one of the guards detaching himself from the band, a figure slipped out of the Shamanyo's tent. The camp roared, clearing an aisle for the person to reach the camp leader's side. When the figure reached them, Aragorn's heart stopped dead in its tracks.
It was a woman.
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Golden sunlight painted the desktop, bringing out the grain and sheen of the dark mahogany wood. Fresh air drifted into the library from the open window, carrying the myriad scents from outdoors.
The musty smell of earth, the refreshing perfume of pine, the cool scent of flowing water—all these combined with the many natural sounds to create a vivid vision where one needn't even look out said window. Nevertheless, Kathy turned towards the open window, drinking in the view.
She placed the tome she had been reading on the sunlit desktop and strode over to the vista shown. Rivendell glowed in the light of Anor, gleaming like snow on the peak of a mountain, pure, standing alone among the shadows of man—one of the last havens of Elvenkind. A waterfall cascaded over the edge of the gorge, crashing down to recreate the slower waters of the Bruinen. When the library door opened, the girl circled slowly around, as if reluctant to leave the sight before her for even a second, then almost hungrily returned to the view when she identified the newcomer. It was only Elrohir.
"Even all my years here, I still enjoy the view." Said a voice from behind her. But Kathy neither started nor jumped.
After all the time she had spent in Imladris, she had finally begun to anticipate the Elves' quiet footsteps. She could almost sense their presence now. But she didn't answer him, only nodded in agreement. Even now, the spectacle left her without breath.
Elrohir spoke again. "Ada wished for me to relate a message to you. He said, 'The forest grows well this summer.'"
Kathy sighed at this. Elrohir smiled in sympathy, understanding the underlying message–Meet me in the forest. We go to pick herbs. He had gotten that quite often himself.
The human girl turned to face the half-Elf watching her patiently.
"Tell him I'm coming."
He inclined his head in acquiescence, smiling gracefully, and walked back through the door while humming a hauntingly beautiful Elvish song. Kathy slumped back down into her favorite plush armchair.
A short while after the first week of her residence when it had become painfully obvious that she was staying for quite some time, Elrond had recognized her affinity for healing. He had taken her under his wing, passing on his knowledge to the next generation of healers, human or Elven.
She knew nearly as much as the twins due to her voracious mental appetite and also owing to the fact that the twins had no such aptitude. Their skills laid more in the arena of warfare although Elrohir had more skill in healing than his brother, a constant irritant that he loved to employ against his sibling.
She helped collect, dry, and prepare the herbs that he used. Elrond now allowed her to produce her own medicines, and even treat minor wounds, but very little illness since Elves usually did not succumb to human illnesses and diseases.
Kathy stood up, straightened her gown and walked out of the door, turning towards her bedchambers.
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A woman strode forward, dressed exactly like the others. There was nothing to differentiate her from the others except, embarrassingly enough, her chest. Although...now that he looked closer, he saw that her skin was a lighter tone, and her bearing was slightly off, as if she were used to slumping her shoulders than to standing straight.
She drew herself up a mere three feet from him, her mask revealing nothing of her face or her expression except her eyes. Which if he looked hard enough showed that she was assessing him as he did her.
He stood quietly, allowing her. Finally she spoke, but it wasn't what she said that floored him, it was how she said it.
She spoke perfect, fluent Westron...
OK, kiddies. I'm cutting it off here because it seems that I'm gonna have a really long chapter. So what this means for you is you'll have to wait a little bit longer for the second half of the chapter.
Don't worry! All I have to do is finish typing it up! The results of the naming contest will be at the end of the whole chapter. *shrugs* Sorry, but that's just the way it is.
Cya soon!!! ;P