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A Counselor's Musings - Momentary Lapse.
Glorfindel informed me some time ago that the Fellowship leave in the morrow. I fear for each and every one of them. I fear for the young Halfling, Frodo Baggins, as he offered, or as the word should be put, declared to all, that he would be the one to take the cursed Ring into the fires of that Valar-forsaken mountain of fire and ash. However, I hold dear to me the faith that he will be the one to destroy the wretched thing once and for all. I greatly fear for the child-like innocence Mr Baggins and the rest of his kin possess... I fear they will lose it. Such blissful and content ignorance is what makes the shire their safe-haven paradise and I fear that they will lose it all.
I fear for the men. Granted, I watched Estel grow from an infant to the man he is today. I, along with a few others tutored and trained him... But, I cannot ignore the nagging twist in the deepest regions of my soul, the fear I feel for him and the one known as Boromir. They are both men. Not all men are slave to their weaknesses despite their own misgivings. But weakness is still there. No more than a mere sliver in some and more prominent in others. Even now, I feel, I saw the temptation flicker through the eyes of the Gondor Stewards' first born. It is not a comforting feeling at all.
I fear for my kin, the Prince of the Elven Woodland realm. I know he will not be swayed. Perhaps I am biased in such matters as I have known said Prince many-a-winter and we have grown to be good friends but in my heart of hearts I know even Elf-kind are not immune to the seductive thrall of the one ring. Though it well should be, it is not my Primary fear regarding my friend; my fear is that Elvendom on Middle-Earth may loose one of its most well-loved Princes.
Whether anyone here or there believes these words or not, I fear for the Dwarf. His heart is in the right place, true enough, but the arrogant streak running through his being reminds me of one Marchwarden I shall not name. He also has his intense dislike for my kind against him. The rift between our two races may or may not prove difficult when the nine begin their journey. Perhaps a word in Estel's ear would aid somewhat... to ensure at the very least, a reluctant truce could be reached.
I may not completely like or trust him as I once did, but I fear too for the Istar. I am not sure why, other than the obvious as stated before concerning certain thrall-efforts on the rings part. But I can sense that something is amiss... or will be.
My point! Exactly! I am of the unsure! Obviously!
I am being shaken. I grant the motion this; it isn't very pleasant and sure way to grasp the attention of the unconscious... formerly, as it were.
I frown. Who is shaking me? I inwardly sigh. One could safely say I'm more than a little irritated at being brought out of my peaceful yet contemplative reverie before I wanted to leave!
"'Restor." I hear. I know the voice, who could not? I do not acknowledge it though. Why should I? The voice is accompanied by, much to my heated annoyance, another firm and sharp shake.
Well, that's why.
I growl, literally growl in aggravation. My right fist seems to think it has a mind of its own as it duly lashes out in the general direction the voice rudely came from. My 'attacker' must have seen the mindful fist coming as the path the fist was taking was abruptly cut short by foreign interference - what my brain finally registers as a hand restraining the wrist attached to said fist.
In my defence... I'm in limbo. The place between the conscious world and the world where my reverie state lies.
My eyebrows draw together in a frown and I just about manage to stifle the groan that came with this next piece of not-so-pleasant knowledge.
Glorfindel will not allow me to live this particular episode down for a long time.
"'Restor!" Two completely new voices all but shout not a fingers length away from my ear and I almost wince. Almost.
So startled as I am (yes, I am), I do what my training taught me.
My free hand moves un-noticed by my still un-seen companion and latches itself not fatally but warningly at neck of the figure to my left. The one that deemed it necessary to burst my ear drum.
Without thinking, I kick my legs out and in a well-practised manoeuvre only I seem to best my dearest 'Fin at, I sweep my still-locked-at-the-neck companion's feet from under him (I hear the unmistakable grunt of a male- elf). My hand never loosens on the neck as I twist myself (at the risk of sounding egotistical) with an air of expertise, if I do say so myself, and I feel my left leg swiftly come into contact with another ankle. I don't stop to think but mentally note that I am faced with three assailants.
I know them all. This fact does not discourage me in the slightest.
They need to be taught a lesson, quite obviously.
I tug hard at my wrist and succeed in freeing it. As I do this, I crack open one of my closed eyes and see my left hand securely latched onto the neck of one dark-haired elf. I see another dark-haired elf regaining his footing and the only light-haired elf of the group looked more stunned than anything.
I smirk inwardly.
With a light jump, I release my hold on the elf's neck and land atop the large boulder in a crouched defensive position. My robes are more of a hindrance than a help if truth be told.
"'Fin, did you never learn that one should never tickle a sleeping dragon?" I ask, a mask of innocence across my features. That topping the defensive crouch must look quite the picture. The light-haired elf faltered in his answer a moment before narrowing his eyes.
It wasn't him who answered though.
The dark-haired elf that I could have easily choked to death.
"'Restor, you're not a dragon." The Elf drawled with an air of sarcastic superiority. I raise an eyebrow in question.
"A valid point young Elrohir. But would you fight me?" I note with great satisfaction that Elrohir paled a number of shades in 3 seconds. I hear the fair-haired elf stifle a laugh and rounded on him. "'Fin, my friend, you are well aware that you would not last long with me either." The laughing stopped abruptly. I stand up on the boulder and straighten my robes.
"Now if we were to have a small battle of skill with the bow and arrow... though I am good, I'm naught compared to the skill our dearest Glorfindel holds within him." The fair-haired elf beams proudly and I decide to cut to the proverbial chase. "Why was I awoken in such a rude manner?" The three elves below me at least have the decency to look slightly abashed; the twins far more than Glorfindel but that is to be expected. 'Fin could never resist an opportunity to test my nerves.
"Our apologies 'Restor." Elladan speaks, still massaging his neck. I assume he was the one I my left hand came into contact with. "We heard Ada and the Istar speaking in hushed tones." He explains.
"Quite hushed." Elrohir adds.
"Not hushed enough." The other twin grins. "They spoke little of the meeting. Ada spoke of Black speech being spoken."
"And we knew you were at the meeting. And we were worried." To an outsider, the way the twins talk would be confusing... but after so many hundred years one gets used to it.
"Naturally." Elladan finishes and I must admit that I'm touched at their thoughtfulness. I smile at them in thanks.
"I thank you for your concern." My momentary forgetful lapse is gone and the memories of times passed, the meeting, the language... they all flood back. Yet, I do not allow it to show on my face.
"Are you well 'Restor?" Elrohir asks. I smile and take a small step forward. I land on slightly bended knees in front of my three companions then straighten up.
"I am well, Elrohir." I say. They look sceptical and I cannot blame them. Had any of them been in the position I am in now, said what I had just said, I would argue that they were lying. Of course, they say nothing. I will be hearing of this deception from Glorfindel in the morrow no doubt.
"Another thing 'Restor." Elladan speaks. "Ada wishes to speak with you." I nod and turn to leave, only to be stopped by Glorfindel's voice.
"I also would not be shocked to find our little Princeling amongst those who seek your council this night 'Restor." I scowl, not looking back because I know that if I do I will see three highly amused elves staring at me.
"If the Prince wishes to speak with me he knows where I rest." I say curtly and walk away, ignoring the gentle snickers that follow me.
For the first time in many hours, my mind swarms with pleasant memories of times passed. Well, as pleasant as they can be when a young, fair-haired elfling going by the name Legolas Greenleaf thought it would be amusing to throw coloured pigment over my hair.
Not even 15 years was he at the time... the top of his head barely reached my hip, but he remained a terror to mind. I am proud to say, I never gave the Prince an art lesson when he visited this Valley with his Father again.
The incident was a millennia ago. I still have not lived it down.
Thank you to the people who reviewed. It means a lot, really. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Review!!
Thank you!
A Counselor's Musings - Momentary Lapse.
Glorfindel informed me some time ago that the Fellowship leave in the morrow. I fear for each and every one of them. I fear for the young Halfling, Frodo Baggins, as he offered, or as the word should be put, declared to all, that he would be the one to take the cursed Ring into the fires of that Valar-forsaken mountain of fire and ash. However, I hold dear to me the faith that he will be the one to destroy the wretched thing once and for all. I greatly fear for the child-like innocence Mr Baggins and the rest of his kin possess... I fear they will lose it. Such blissful and content ignorance is what makes the shire their safe-haven paradise and I fear that they will lose it all.
I fear for the men. Granted, I watched Estel grow from an infant to the man he is today. I, along with a few others tutored and trained him... But, I cannot ignore the nagging twist in the deepest regions of my soul, the fear I feel for him and the one known as Boromir. They are both men. Not all men are slave to their weaknesses despite their own misgivings. But weakness is still there. No more than a mere sliver in some and more prominent in others. Even now, I feel, I saw the temptation flicker through the eyes of the Gondor Stewards' first born. It is not a comforting feeling at all.
I fear for my kin, the Prince of the Elven Woodland realm. I know he will not be swayed. Perhaps I am biased in such matters as I have known said Prince many-a-winter and we have grown to be good friends but in my heart of hearts I know even Elf-kind are not immune to the seductive thrall of the one ring. Though it well should be, it is not my Primary fear regarding my friend; my fear is that Elvendom on Middle-Earth may loose one of its most well-loved Princes.
Whether anyone here or there believes these words or not, I fear for the Dwarf. His heart is in the right place, true enough, but the arrogant streak running through his being reminds me of one Marchwarden I shall not name. He also has his intense dislike for my kind against him. The rift between our two races may or may not prove difficult when the nine begin their journey. Perhaps a word in Estel's ear would aid somewhat... to ensure at the very least, a reluctant truce could be reached.
I may not completely like or trust him as I once did, but I fear too for the Istar. I am not sure why, other than the obvious as stated before concerning certain thrall-efforts on the rings part. But I can sense that something is amiss... or will be.
My point! Exactly! I am of the unsure! Obviously!
I am being shaken. I grant the motion this; it isn't very pleasant and sure way to grasp the attention of the unconscious... formerly, as it were.
I frown. Who is shaking me? I inwardly sigh. One could safely say I'm more than a little irritated at being brought out of my peaceful yet contemplative reverie before I wanted to leave!
"'Restor." I hear. I know the voice, who could not? I do not acknowledge it though. Why should I? The voice is accompanied by, much to my heated annoyance, another firm and sharp shake.
Well, that's why.
I growl, literally growl in aggravation. My right fist seems to think it has a mind of its own as it duly lashes out in the general direction the voice rudely came from. My 'attacker' must have seen the mindful fist coming as the path the fist was taking was abruptly cut short by foreign interference - what my brain finally registers as a hand restraining the wrist attached to said fist.
In my defence... I'm in limbo. The place between the conscious world and the world where my reverie state lies.
My eyebrows draw together in a frown and I just about manage to stifle the groan that came with this next piece of not-so-pleasant knowledge.
Glorfindel will not allow me to live this particular episode down for a long time.
"'Restor!" Two completely new voices all but shout not a fingers length away from my ear and I almost wince. Almost.
So startled as I am (yes, I am), I do what my training taught me.
My free hand moves un-noticed by my still un-seen companion and latches itself not fatally but warningly at neck of the figure to my left. The one that deemed it necessary to burst my ear drum.
Without thinking, I kick my legs out and in a well-practised manoeuvre only I seem to best my dearest 'Fin at, I sweep my still-locked-at-the-neck companion's feet from under him (I hear the unmistakable grunt of a male- elf). My hand never loosens on the neck as I twist myself (at the risk of sounding egotistical) with an air of expertise, if I do say so myself, and I feel my left leg swiftly come into contact with another ankle. I don't stop to think but mentally note that I am faced with three assailants.
I know them all. This fact does not discourage me in the slightest.
They need to be taught a lesson, quite obviously.
I tug hard at my wrist and succeed in freeing it. As I do this, I crack open one of my closed eyes and see my left hand securely latched onto the neck of one dark-haired elf. I see another dark-haired elf regaining his footing and the only light-haired elf of the group looked more stunned than anything.
I smirk inwardly.
With a light jump, I release my hold on the elf's neck and land atop the large boulder in a crouched defensive position. My robes are more of a hindrance than a help if truth be told.
"'Fin, did you never learn that one should never tickle a sleeping dragon?" I ask, a mask of innocence across my features. That topping the defensive crouch must look quite the picture. The light-haired elf faltered in his answer a moment before narrowing his eyes.
It wasn't him who answered though.
The dark-haired elf that I could have easily choked to death.
"'Restor, you're not a dragon." The Elf drawled with an air of sarcastic superiority. I raise an eyebrow in question.
"A valid point young Elrohir. But would you fight me?" I note with great satisfaction that Elrohir paled a number of shades in 3 seconds. I hear the fair-haired elf stifle a laugh and rounded on him. "'Fin, my friend, you are well aware that you would not last long with me either." The laughing stopped abruptly. I stand up on the boulder and straighten my robes.
"Now if we were to have a small battle of skill with the bow and arrow... though I am good, I'm naught compared to the skill our dearest Glorfindel holds within him." The fair-haired elf beams proudly and I decide to cut to the proverbial chase. "Why was I awoken in such a rude manner?" The three elves below me at least have the decency to look slightly abashed; the twins far more than Glorfindel but that is to be expected. 'Fin could never resist an opportunity to test my nerves.
"Our apologies 'Restor." Elladan speaks, still massaging his neck. I assume he was the one I my left hand came into contact with. "We heard Ada and the Istar speaking in hushed tones." He explains.
"Quite hushed." Elrohir adds.
"Not hushed enough." The other twin grins. "They spoke little of the meeting. Ada spoke of Black speech being spoken."
"And we knew you were at the meeting. And we were worried." To an outsider, the way the twins talk would be confusing... but after so many hundred years one gets used to it.
"Naturally." Elladan finishes and I must admit that I'm touched at their thoughtfulness. I smile at them in thanks.
"I thank you for your concern." My momentary forgetful lapse is gone and the memories of times passed, the meeting, the language... they all flood back. Yet, I do not allow it to show on my face.
"Are you well 'Restor?" Elrohir asks. I smile and take a small step forward. I land on slightly bended knees in front of my three companions then straighten up.
"I am well, Elrohir." I say. They look sceptical and I cannot blame them. Had any of them been in the position I am in now, said what I had just said, I would argue that they were lying. Of course, they say nothing. I will be hearing of this deception from Glorfindel in the morrow no doubt.
"Another thing 'Restor." Elladan speaks. "Ada wishes to speak with you." I nod and turn to leave, only to be stopped by Glorfindel's voice.
"I also would not be shocked to find our little Princeling amongst those who seek your council this night 'Restor." I scowl, not looking back because I know that if I do I will see three highly amused elves staring at me.
"If the Prince wishes to speak with me he knows where I rest." I say curtly and walk away, ignoring the gentle snickers that follow me.
For the first time in many hours, my mind swarms with pleasant memories of times passed. Well, as pleasant as they can be when a young, fair-haired elfling going by the name Legolas Greenleaf thought it would be amusing to throw coloured pigment over my hair.
Not even 15 years was he at the time... the top of his head barely reached my hip, but he remained a terror to mind. I am proud to say, I never gave the Prince an art lesson when he visited this Valley with his Father again.
The incident was a millennia ago. I still have not lived it down.
Thank you to the people who reviewed. It means a lot, really. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Review!!
Thank you!