A/N: Dear lord, I am the worst author ever. Actually, I can think of worse.
This ladies and gentlemen is the most over due update ever. This is for all
those who reviewed and patiently waited for more.
Chapter 4
Legolas faced an excruciating and reluctant return to consciousness. His head throbbed incessantly with the ache of brutality as his heart did with the pain of loss and hopelessness.
He staggered slowly inching off the dusty ground, disturbed and relieved to find himself alone. His first thought went to clothing, hastily pulling on his bloodstained breeches, tying them tightly as if were defer more forceful removal. He stood as close to full height as he could get and attempted to assess where he was. Difficult in the stone prison of the mines.
Entombed in darkness with little more heart than a hunted stag, he inched forward into unknowing fear. A dim light flickered with promise and he ripped the burning torch that lit the hollow from the wall. Tense and aware of the attention he would draw to himself, he decided he would rather face such danger than the mocking black.
As he near crawled onwards, the faces of Aragorn and the terrified ringbearer seemed to jump at him from the crumbling stone. Faced with a thousand questions and no answers he upped his pace.
In contrast Aragorn crept slowly out of the abyss of Moria. For the first time he remained rooted at the back of the retreating Fellowship, every other step a desperate yet hopeful look behind. The others had long stopped trying to hurry him, sharing in his need and want to see a shining, familiar figure appear as if by magic. Gimli muttered bitterly to himself as the tiny figure of Frodo wept softly into the arms of his cousins. Boromir had appointed himself the new eyes and ears of the Fellowship, but had an impossible act to follow.
The forlorn group continued their surly and reluctant trek into the light of the outside world, now keen to stay in the darkness and give their lost member the tiniest chance to reach them. As silently as they moved, watchful of any movement in the shadows, the group was careful to leave any sign of their path in the hope that Legolas would follow.
Though, sick at heart, they knew he would not.
The lone elf had once again found himself in the fateful clearing that had heralded his separation from his lover and friends. He never thought himself capable of feeling relief deep within the caverns, but there it was, residing hopefully in the bottom of his torn heart. He was sore and ached inside and out, lacking the grace of his people as he stumbled blindly on.
But he wasn't blind, the torch had long extinguished but something glittered serenely ahead. He crashed forward to find lying on the ground a small gem, raw, scratched and dirty, yet it burned as bright as hope itself in the dim light. The smile that tore at his face hurt his abused and swollen lips, but it was genuine, and it was worth it.
Another figure crawled through the maze of stone and rock, bent double and clawing angrily at himself. The elf, the only thing good to come his way since the precious had eluded him. Gollum was not pleased; all it had taken was one foolish fit of conscience. Stupid Smeagol and his over wrought heart. The two minds of Gollum had fought viciously for an age over what they had together done to the creature of light brought their way. As always the evil and darkness had overcome, the corruption of the ring too potent to save any worth within this lowly creature.
He hissed and mumbled to himself amidst a barrage of westron curses. Though he knew these caves as well as any could, a lost and lone elf, prepared to take any turn would be impossible to find. Mayhap he would even find him dead. Once again Smeagol tugged at his mind, a sad whimper of guilt and despair, but they had both defiled Legolas and would both search for a sign. However, t'was not the wont of elves to leave signs or clues. Or saw he thought. The remains of the torch that had lit the hollow Gollum resided within, lay battered upon the ground. He smiled grimly. Up ahead would be the clearing upon with the small ringbearer had offered his pledge.
How gleefully Gollum had jumped at this chance, of course he wanted the precious, but the elf proved just as delicious, plus the expression upon the hobbit's face was utterly delightful. Gollum had hoped the ring would be offered to prevent such an exchange, but the elf had shown more heart than he had thought.
Gollum was once again nearing his prize. The plateau on which the Fellowship had slept was empty and desolate but the trail of crystals he had left had been disturbed. The tiny gem had been picked up, trembling fingers had cleaned it of dust and replaced it wrongly. The vile creature scampered onwards.
Gollum moved so fast, so keenly that his mind blanked of his route, his extensive knowledge of Moria gone in his haste to tear through it, to reclaim what was his. Not for the first time, his greed led to his downfall.
The path was narrow and the fall long, Gollum stumbled, leering dangerously to his left. In a desperate and foolhardy attempt to right himself, he lurched back and lost all balance.
Tumbling downwards, he hit the ledge far below with a horrifying screech.
The discombobulated sound echoed manically through Moria as loud and ominous as summer thunder.
Legolas whirled terrified, nearly losing his precious and precarious footing. Suddenly faced with all his fear and aware of all his pain, the lone figure crashed of the ground hard, head in his hands, weeping silently into his lap like a lost child.
Merely a mile away the Fellowship halted violently and turned hastily to locate the sound that had stopped them in their tracks. While some protested, no-one truly made a move to stop Aragorn as he ran back and away from the promise of escape. In fact, after a pregnant pause, they followed the retreating form, led by the tiny but courageous figure of Frodo Baggins.
A/N: Ok, I can promise you, it will NOT take a year this time. However Parallels is next, what have I let myself in for?
Chapter 4
Legolas faced an excruciating and reluctant return to consciousness. His head throbbed incessantly with the ache of brutality as his heart did with the pain of loss and hopelessness.
He staggered slowly inching off the dusty ground, disturbed and relieved to find himself alone. His first thought went to clothing, hastily pulling on his bloodstained breeches, tying them tightly as if were defer more forceful removal. He stood as close to full height as he could get and attempted to assess where he was. Difficult in the stone prison of the mines.
Entombed in darkness with little more heart than a hunted stag, he inched forward into unknowing fear. A dim light flickered with promise and he ripped the burning torch that lit the hollow from the wall. Tense and aware of the attention he would draw to himself, he decided he would rather face such danger than the mocking black.
As he near crawled onwards, the faces of Aragorn and the terrified ringbearer seemed to jump at him from the crumbling stone. Faced with a thousand questions and no answers he upped his pace.
In contrast Aragorn crept slowly out of the abyss of Moria. For the first time he remained rooted at the back of the retreating Fellowship, every other step a desperate yet hopeful look behind. The others had long stopped trying to hurry him, sharing in his need and want to see a shining, familiar figure appear as if by magic. Gimli muttered bitterly to himself as the tiny figure of Frodo wept softly into the arms of his cousins. Boromir had appointed himself the new eyes and ears of the Fellowship, but had an impossible act to follow.
The forlorn group continued their surly and reluctant trek into the light of the outside world, now keen to stay in the darkness and give their lost member the tiniest chance to reach them. As silently as they moved, watchful of any movement in the shadows, the group was careful to leave any sign of their path in the hope that Legolas would follow.
Though, sick at heart, they knew he would not.
The lone elf had once again found himself in the fateful clearing that had heralded his separation from his lover and friends. He never thought himself capable of feeling relief deep within the caverns, but there it was, residing hopefully in the bottom of his torn heart. He was sore and ached inside and out, lacking the grace of his people as he stumbled blindly on.
But he wasn't blind, the torch had long extinguished but something glittered serenely ahead. He crashed forward to find lying on the ground a small gem, raw, scratched and dirty, yet it burned as bright as hope itself in the dim light. The smile that tore at his face hurt his abused and swollen lips, but it was genuine, and it was worth it.
Another figure crawled through the maze of stone and rock, bent double and clawing angrily at himself. The elf, the only thing good to come his way since the precious had eluded him. Gollum was not pleased; all it had taken was one foolish fit of conscience. Stupid Smeagol and his over wrought heart. The two minds of Gollum had fought viciously for an age over what they had together done to the creature of light brought their way. As always the evil and darkness had overcome, the corruption of the ring too potent to save any worth within this lowly creature.
He hissed and mumbled to himself amidst a barrage of westron curses. Though he knew these caves as well as any could, a lost and lone elf, prepared to take any turn would be impossible to find. Mayhap he would even find him dead. Once again Smeagol tugged at his mind, a sad whimper of guilt and despair, but they had both defiled Legolas and would both search for a sign. However, t'was not the wont of elves to leave signs or clues. Or saw he thought. The remains of the torch that had lit the hollow Gollum resided within, lay battered upon the ground. He smiled grimly. Up ahead would be the clearing upon with the small ringbearer had offered his pledge.
How gleefully Gollum had jumped at this chance, of course he wanted the precious, but the elf proved just as delicious, plus the expression upon the hobbit's face was utterly delightful. Gollum had hoped the ring would be offered to prevent such an exchange, but the elf had shown more heart than he had thought.
Gollum was once again nearing his prize. The plateau on which the Fellowship had slept was empty and desolate but the trail of crystals he had left had been disturbed. The tiny gem had been picked up, trembling fingers had cleaned it of dust and replaced it wrongly. The vile creature scampered onwards.
Gollum moved so fast, so keenly that his mind blanked of his route, his extensive knowledge of Moria gone in his haste to tear through it, to reclaim what was his. Not for the first time, his greed led to his downfall.
The path was narrow and the fall long, Gollum stumbled, leering dangerously to his left. In a desperate and foolhardy attempt to right himself, he lurched back and lost all balance.
Tumbling downwards, he hit the ledge far below with a horrifying screech.
The discombobulated sound echoed manically through Moria as loud and ominous as summer thunder.
Legolas whirled terrified, nearly losing his precious and precarious footing. Suddenly faced with all his fear and aware of all his pain, the lone figure crashed of the ground hard, head in his hands, weeping silently into his lap like a lost child.
Merely a mile away the Fellowship halted violently and turned hastily to locate the sound that had stopped them in their tracks. While some protested, no-one truly made a move to stop Aragorn as he ran back and away from the promise of escape. In fact, after a pregnant pause, they followed the retreating form, led by the tiny but courageous figure of Frodo Baggins.
A/N: Ok, I can promise you, it will NOT take a year this time. However Parallels is next, what have I let myself in for?