Hello everyone!
A cookie to Stardust60!! That wasn't the answer I was thinking of when I wrote the riddle, but it is correct! ^ ^ So kudos and that's what I get for trying to be smart! Actually, the answer to "Where does one find a frog which is not always green, and which does not croak," is "The underside of a horse's hoof!" There is a V shaped groove in a horses' foot called a frog and as we know, manure is green and a hoof can't croak. A bit obscure, I admit.
**IMPORTANT!** The response to include more romance between Legolas and Elrohir was overwhelmingly positive. However, several people did express the opinion that the story is better off as is. As you know, I like to remain as canon as possible so here's how it's gonna work: There WILL be romance! However, it will be delicately written in Tolkien's style for love affairs – i.e. love will be expressed through words and actions and not "physical deeds." I know that's a bit vague but it will make sense when you read it. I sincerely hope that everyone will be happy with this and non slash readers will at least give the idea a try. If you really object to this decision one way or the other, let me know via review or email!
Despite your wonderful reviews, I had a hard time up the energy to write these past two weeks. There's been a lot going on in my life (check my LiveJournal at www.livejournal.com/users/nekomegami_chan if you're interested in finding out exactly why I take so long to update!). I've also joined a Kingdom Hearts RPG at www.avidgamers.com/simplec and to be honest it's addicting. ^^ Sorry…
I look forward to your comments! (I'm sick of saying "Please review!" It seems so trite…).
On the West Wind Sails the Gull
By NekoMegami_chan
Nekomegami_chan@hotmail.com
Chapter IX
The Mind of Evil and Interludes
The city of Minas Tirith teemed with activity beneath a bright sky. Craftsman laboured in their shops while smithies gathered round their forges, bare-armed and sweating despite the frigid air outside. Merchants lit braziers and bartered with customers as they warmed their hands. The day's chores complete, children ran about and re-enacted battles from the War of the Ring in neighbourhood parks. Dwarves, the wares they had brought now sold, indulged in tales and drink. On the walls and battlements, guards diligently kept watch.
Lord Saberon ran gloved fingers through his hair. He loved this city. He loved the beautiful, flowing river of humanity and even more, the corruption which thrived just beneath the surface. The peace which had been so hard won was now taken for granted - even by those who had fought for it. The people here now lied to and cheated with one another. The wealthy expanded their fortunes at the expense of the poor and the men in power happily stabbed one another in the dark.
Edoras was no better. Nor were any of the other cities and townships throughout Middle Earth. Certainly there were worse places; places where there were no carefully groomed soldiers to clean up after the drunk and the destructive. Places where filth piled up in the corners and bodies lay abandoned between the ramshackle houses.
Saberon smiled as he walked past a tangle of boys teasing a cat with a scrap of meat. No, such squalor was unbecoming of his power. The obvious evil of the dregs of humanity and the noisome depravity of the lesser races of orcs and goblins was below him. The irony lay in the fact that it was the fear induced servitude of those undesirables upon which he so heavily relied. As had Sauron before him.
That Dark Lord had delighted in the disgusting, vile conditions his minions were subjected to. A quality Saberon had never found endearing in his former master. It was the insidious nature of Man, the way a mind and heart could be so easily swayed if given the right incentives which intrigued him. He made no secret of his great love for the pain of others; the grisly death of the elf in his dungeon the day before had brought him hours of pleasurable memories. Yet in no way did he condone the wretched and he would not long suffer the presence of the deformed and the stupid. It was his greatest joy to see the strong brought to their knees, to look him defiantly in the eye while they spilled the secrets of others – each word calculated to save their own skin. It was that paradox which fuelled his passion for domination.
Sauron had been so caught up in his visions of grand domination and revenge that he had lost sight of the details. Obsessed with regaining his Ring, he had forsaken the strengths of common sense, diligence and patience. The truth be known, Sauron had been as sadly smitten by the power of the One Ring as had the pathetic creature known and Gollum.
Saberon suffered no such delusions. His power came from cunning; his ability to bend the wills of others through word and deed to suit his own purpose. He also possessed the instincts of a hunter, often trusting to the feeling in his gut to tell him when to stalk, to wound or to rush in for the kill when the prey suspects nothing. But most of all, unlike his former master, Saberon did not believe himself invincible. He would never admit such a weakness yet he planned carefully for all contingencies, leaving nothing to chance or the judgement of others.
He glanced over at his aide, a sharp young man with a level head and a lust for conquest. As they turned towards the gate, easily disguised as fur trappers, he laughed and threw an arm over his companions' shoulders. "Let's hurry home. I could use a mug of tea, and I am quite excited to find out how our traitor has fared. I expect the ravens will have made their way back by sundown."
* * *
Gimli watched Legolas struggle to his feet, stoically declining the helping hands which he and Elrond offered. The dwarf felt an unaccustomed lump in his throat as his friend tested how much weight could be trusted to his leg and hip and how much would have to depend on the cane. Gimli felt as if he were witnessing a child's first steps and he prayed that Legolas would not stumble, though his heart swelled in pride that such a strong and beautiful individual called him 'friend'. He took some comfort in knowing that the walking stick he had carved was strong and well balanced.
Elrond had explained that the prince's long hike to Rivendell had been made out of sheer luck and stubborn determination, and that his arrival at the counsel had only been possible because of the drugs which had lingered in his system. Gimli did not doubt that it was as the Elf-lord said and so he waited with baited breath as Legolas made his way around the room.
The prince had said nothing regarding his infirmity after the counsel, though his eyes would not meet another's when he was carried or otherwise assisted. It was not embarrassment which made him act so, but rather a deep frustration. It had been several generations of men since he had last been injured and it irked the normally easy-going Elf when he was unable to so much as dress himself without pain. Though when Thranduil had departed, Legolas had insisted on being helped to the courtyard. His pride and the pride of his unusual father did not lend itself well to weakness.
"Well done! You'll be shootin' orcs again in no time!" Gimli exclaimed and smiled broadly when Legolas completed a circuit of the chamber. His face was slightly flushed with exertion, but he seemed to be in relatively little discomfort. Elrond had been steadily decreasing the prince's doses of numbing herbs over the past several days with no ill effects.
Elrond clapped briefly. "Yes, well done." The Lord of Imladris said, before growing serious. The corners of his mouth turned down slightly and he caught and held Legolas' gaze. "I would make a bargain with you, Legolas."
Uncertain what meaning those words might hold for him, the Elf-prince chose to say nothing. Elrond continued, taking Legolas' silence for acquiescence. "As you know, the twins and those other Elves who would make the journey to depart from these shores are set to leave in three days' time; December the seventh. If you fulfil my requirements," here he paused as if for dramatic effect, though he was actually using the moment to gauge Legolas' reaction, "I will let you accompany them also."
Gimli nearly bit his tongue. That Elrond believed Legolas fit enough to travel he could hardly bring himself to accept. He didn't know if he should cry out in joy and relief, or else question the ancient elf's sanity. He settled for simply staring at the two and wishing that Erestor or Glorfindel were present to reason with them; for surely Legolas would not pass up such an opportunity.
"And what would those requirements be, my Lord Elrond?" Legolas asked, suspicion flawlessly moderated.
"Firstly you must follow my instructions as to your care - wholly and completely and without fuss or question. Secondly you must never tell your father," Elrond broke into a short laugh at the last, imagining the impotent rage which would consume Thranduil's should he ever find out.
Legolas never hesitated and like a cat upon a mouse he pounced at his chance. "I accept your terms."
Elrond nodded and sat, allowing the others to do so as well. "Very well, then. I had thought that might be the case."
Gimli looked at Legolas then turned a critical eye to Elrond. "I do not mean t' question the judgement of the wise," he said, "but this seems like folly! Legolas has been attacked once already; with disastrous consequences! And now you would turn him out into the dead of winter while evil thirsts for the blood of the Fellowship?" he gestured to Legolas, careful to acknowledge his continued presence so as not to offend his sensibilities, now was not the time for that.
Legolas placed a placating hand on his friend's forearm though he spoke earnestly. "Folly or not, I would rather not sit idly by like a fragile maid while my friends and my beloved make the most important journey of their immortal lives."
"Aye, but…" Gimli trailed off.
"And of course, you will be with me, will you not?" Legolas asked, feigning more patience than he felt. Granted, the situation was not ideal.
Gimli's eyes narrowed for a moment, pretending to consider on the grounds of his disapproval. Yet he answered a little too quickly to be effective. "Aye. After all, someone 'as t' make certain that you don't get int' a tight spot." He cast Legolas a sidelong glance and muttered for good measure, "Crazy Elf!"
* * *
It was nearing midday when Aragorn finally got his men mobile. Of the seven who had survived, only four were able to sit a horse and one of those had to have his legs lashed to the girth. The three men who had been too badly hurt to ride were bundled up against the cold and placed on roughly hewn sleds. In all, ten horses remained to them; several had been killed and others had broken free from the picket line and disappeared into the forest. Among them was an older stallion who managed to collect the others and eventually led them to the rich pastures of the South Farthing in the Shire.
Aragorn ranged ahead, searching for any signs of danger. By mid-afternoon he came upon the Road and turned due South with it; he dared not cross the mountains. Even with healthy men, the weather was such that he would not have taken that route again. The Road was safer, the various realms having pooled their resources to maintain and expand the thoroughfares of Middle Earth as colonies of Men and Dwarves began to travel and tame the land. It was his hope to find a homestead nearby where he might find aid.
They stopped before sundown to camp on the side of the Road, and though exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, Aragorn kept watch alone. Throughout the night he puffed at his pipe and let his thoughts roam. He thought of Arwen in Gondor and he knew that she stood at her window, singing to the baby growing within her and listening to the stars. He worried that the Hobbits would be the enemy's next target. Legolas and Gimli were much on his mind also; he feared that the dwarf would have a difficulty keeping his friend from following Elrohir. But mostly he thought of Gandalf and keenly longed for the wizard's guidance, though he did not expect for him to step out of the shadows a few hours before dawn.
"Gandalf!" Aragorn whispered, barely able to contain his excitement and relief. "I am glad you are here. I am in need of your aid."
The White Wizard dismounted, shining like the pale moon overhead. "I can see that," he replied upon taking in the state of the sleeping soldiers. They had erected no tents, but lay huddled in canvas bedrolls and thick travel blankets. "I did not expect to meet you here, though I can guess at what happened. I have been moving swiftly and have learned much. I regret to say that our danger grows. Still, you had best tell me everything," Gandalf said, sitting down and lighting his pipe.
* * *
Legolas reclined alone in the Hall of Fire, reading and sipping a light golden wine. After Elrond sealed their bargain, Gimli had gone to speak with his party. The Lord of Imladris had extended his hospitality through the winter and the dwarves readily accepted the invitation to stay. Now his friend was busily writing letters of instructions for to provide for the unknown length of his absence.
Legolas had not seen either of the twins since breakfast and though Erestor often came and went through the Hall on his way to other errands, he had otherwise been left to his own devices. It was nearing supper time when Elrohir entered and came to lean over the back of the plush bench on which he sat.
"Father said you were able to walk on your own today," Elrohir grinned and his eyes glittered merrily in the firelight. "And he mentioned that you would have something important to tell me."
Setting the book on his lap Legolas laughed and the sound rolled through the Hall like a bubbling spring in a cave. "I fear you may not believe me if I tell you," he said in all honesty.
Elrohir's brows knit together. "Father seemed to be in a pleasant mood; I had assumed the news to be good. Why do you hesitate?"
Legolas took Elrohir's right hand in both of his. "All is well. In fact, Elrond had released me into Gimli's care and I am going with you!" he laughed again at the expression which came over Elrohir's face. "Does this news please you?"
"More than you know!" the dark-haired elf practically sang, coming around to sit on the floor. "But how can it be so? Are you not still wounded?"
"Yes, and there are many rules to follow regarding that fact. Nevertheless Elrond agrees with me that my place is at your side," Legolas murmured, leaning down to slip his arms around Elrohir's neck. He pressed their foreheads together and their breath mingled, warm and sweet with the flavour of the wine, a gentle contrast to the wood-smoke rising from the hearth. For long moments they sat wordlessly, though their hearts whispered soul-deep secrets to one another.
"I will not ask you to come with us over the sea, though I dearly wish you to, for I have learned that lesson the hard way. In the Havens there is no time even for those not bound by mortality. But for every day we are not together in body as well as spirit will be keenly felt. If ever you feel loving eyes upon you, know that they are mine. I will be watching you through the mirror of water and sighing my devotion to your heart from afar," Elrohir vowed quietly. "All of Arda is truly blessed so long as your fair feet walk upon this world."
"Your words are as honey; though I shall never tire of their sweetness. Do not tempt me," Legolas begged. "I may forsake this place if you say any more."
* * *
See, that wasn't so bad, was it?
Woah! Really long chapter, huh? And most of it was done over the last three days. I hope it didn't suck 'cuz I was exhausted the entire time and I hardly remember what I've written.
Is it just me, or does anyone else feel that Saberon is a bit like Hitler? I actually intended it that way. There are few more calculatingly evil geniuses in history; and I've spent a lot of time studying that time period (I'm a bit of a nerd, I confess. Yay Discovery Channel!!). Besides, I don't know or want to guess at the thought processes of Osama and Saddam *shudder* scary men!
A cookie to Stardust60!! That wasn't the answer I was thinking of when I wrote the riddle, but it is correct! ^ ^ So kudos and that's what I get for trying to be smart! Actually, the answer to "Where does one find a frog which is not always green, and which does not croak," is "The underside of a horse's hoof!" There is a V shaped groove in a horses' foot called a frog and as we know, manure is green and a hoof can't croak. A bit obscure, I admit.
**IMPORTANT!** The response to include more romance between Legolas and Elrohir was overwhelmingly positive. However, several people did express the opinion that the story is better off as is. As you know, I like to remain as canon as possible so here's how it's gonna work: There WILL be romance! However, it will be delicately written in Tolkien's style for love affairs – i.e. love will be expressed through words and actions and not "physical deeds." I know that's a bit vague but it will make sense when you read it. I sincerely hope that everyone will be happy with this and non slash readers will at least give the idea a try. If you really object to this decision one way or the other, let me know via review or email!
Despite your wonderful reviews, I had a hard time up the energy to write these past two weeks. There's been a lot going on in my life (check my LiveJournal at www.livejournal.com/users/nekomegami_chan if you're interested in finding out exactly why I take so long to update!). I've also joined a Kingdom Hearts RPG at www.avidgamers.com/simplec and to be honest it's addicting. ^^ Sorry…
I look forward to your comments! (I'm sick of saying "Please review!" It seems so trite…).
On the West Wind Sails the Gull
By NekoMegami_chan
Nekomegami_chan@hotmail.com
Chapter IX
The Mind of Evil and Interludes
The city of Minas Tirith teemed with activity beneath a bright sky. Craftsman laboured in their shops while smithies gathered round their forges, bare-armed and sweating despite the frigid air outside. Merchants lit braziers and bartered with customers as they warmed their hands. The day's chores complete, children ran about and re-enacted battles from the War of the Ring in neighbourhood parks. Dwarves, the wares they had brought now sold, indulged in tales and drink. On the walls and battlements, guards diligently kept watch.
Lord Saberon ran gloved fingers through his hair. He loved this city. He loved the beautiful, flowing river of humanity and even more, the corruption which thrived just beneath the surface. The peace which had been so hard won was now taken for granted - even by those who had fought for it. The people here now lied to and cheated with one another. The wealthy expanded their fortunes at the expense of the poor and the men in power happily stabbed one another in the dark.
Edoras was no better. Nor were any of the other cities and townships throughout Middle Earth. Certainly there were worse places; places where there were no carefully groomed soldiers to clean up after the drunk and the destructive. Places where filth piled up in the corners and bodies lay abandoned between the ramshackle houses.
Saberon smiled as he walked past a tangle of boys teasing a cat with a scrap of meat. No, such squalor was unbecoming of his power. The obvious evil of the dregs of humanity and the noisome depravity of the lesser races of orcs and goblins was below him. The irony lay in the fact that it was the fear induced servitude of those undesirables upon which he so heavily relied. As had Sauron before him.
That Dark Lord had delighted in the disgusting, vile conditions his minions were subjected to. A quality Saberon had never found endearing in his former master. It was the insidious nature of Man, the way a mind and heart could be so easily swayed if given the right incentives which intrigued him. He made no secret of his great love for the pain of others; the grisly death of the elf in his dungeon the day before had brought him hours of pleasurable memories. Yet in no way did he condone the wretched and he would not long suffer the presence of the deformed and the stupid. It was his greatest joy to see the strong brought to their knees, to look him defiantly in the eye while they spilled the secrets of others – each word calculated to save their own skin. It was that paradox which fuelled his passion for domination.
Sauron had been so caught up in his visions of grand domination and revenge that he had lost sight of the details. Obsessed with regaining his Ring, he had forsaken the strengths of common sense, diligence and patience. The truth be known, Sauron had been as sadly smitten by the power of the One Ring as had the pathetic creature known and Gollum.
Saberon suffered no such delusions. His power came from cunning; his ability to bend the wills of others through word and deed to suit his own purpose. He also possessed the instincts of a hunter, often trusting to the feeling in his gut to tell him when to stalk, to wound or to rush in for the kill when the prey suspects nothing. But most of all, unlike his former master, Saberon did not believe himself invincible. He would never admit such a weakness yet he planned carefully for all contingencies, leaving nothing to chance or the judgement of others.
He glanced over at his aide, a sharp young man with a level head and a lust for conquest. As they turned towards the gate, easily disguised as fur trappers, he laughed and threw an arm over his companions' shoulders. "Let's hurry home. I could use a mug of tea, and I am quite excited to find out how our traitor has fared. I expect the ravens will have made their way back by sundown."
* * *
Gimli watched Legolas struggle to his feet, stoically declining the helping hands which he and Elrond offered. The dwarf felt an unaccustomed lump in his throat as his friend tested how much weight could be trusted to his leg and hip and how much would have to depend on the cane. Gimli felt as if he were witnessing a child's first steps and he prayed that Legolas would not stumble, though his heart swelled in pride that such a strong and beautiful individual called him 'friend'. He took some comfort in knowing that the walking stick he had carved was strong and well balanced.
Elrond had explained that the prince's long hike to Rivendell had been made out of sheer luck and stubborn determination, and that his arrival at the counsel had only been possible because of the drugs which had lingered in his system. Gimli did not doubt that it was as the Elf-lord said and so he waited with baited breath as Legolas made his way around the room.
The prince had said nothing regarding his infirmity after the counsel, though his eyes would not meet another's when he was carried or otherwise assisted. It was not embarrassment which made him act so, but rather a deep frustration. It had been several generations of men since he had last been injured and it irked the normally easy-going Elf when he was unable to so much as dress himself without pain. Though when Thranduil had departed, Legolas had insisted on being helped to the courtyard. His pride and the pride of his unusual father did not lend itself well to weakness.
"Well done! You'll be shootin' orcs again in no time!" Gimli exclaimed and smiled broadly when Legolas completed a circuit of the chamber. His face was slightly flushed with exertion, but he seemed to be in relatively little discomfort. Elrond had been steadily decreasing the prince's doses of numbing herbs over the past several days with no ill effects.
Elrond clapped briefly. "Yes, well done." The Lord of Imladris said, before growing serious. The corners of his mouth turned down slightly and he caught and held Legolas' gaze. "I would make a bargain with you, Legolas."
Uncertain what meaning those words might hold for him, the Elf-prince chose to say nothing. Elrond continued, taking Legolas' silence for acquiescence. "As you know, the twins and those other Elves who would make the journey to depart from these shores are set to leave in three days' time; December the seventh. If you fulfil my requirements," here he paused as if for dramatic effect, though he was actually using the moment to gauge Legolas' reaction, "I will let you accompany them also."
Gimli nearly bit his tongue. That Elrond believed Legolas fit enough to travel he could hardly bring himself to accept. He didn't know if he should cry out in joy and relief, or else question the ancient elf's sanity. He settled for simply staring at the two and wishing that Erestor or Glorfindel were present to reason with them; for surely Legolas would not pass up such an opportunity.
"And what would those requirements be, my Lord Elrond?" Legolas asked, suspicion flawlessly moderated.
"Firstly you must follow my instructions as to your care - wholly and completely and without fuss or question. Secondly you must never tell your father," Elrond broke into a short laugh at the last, imagining the impotent rage which would consume Thranduil's should he ever find out.
Legolas never hesitated and like a cat upon a mouse he pounced at his chance. "I accept your terms."
Elrond nodded and sat, allowing the others to do so as well. "Very well, then. I had thought that might be the case."
Gimli looked at Legolas then turned a critical eye to Elrond. "I do not mean t' question the judgement of the wise," he said, "but this seems like folly! Legolas has been attacked once already; with disastrous consequences! And now you would turn him out into the dead of winter while evil thirsts for the blood of the Fellowship?" he gestured to Legolas, careful to acknowledge his continued presence so as not to offend his sensibilities, now was not the time for that.
Legolas placed a placating hand on his friend's forearm though he spoke earnestly. "Folly or not, I would rather not sit idly by like a fragile maid while my friends and my beloved make the most important journey of their immortal lives."
"Aye, but…" Gimli trailed off.
"And of course, you will be with me, will you not?" Legolas asked, feigning more patience than he felt. Granted, the situation was not ideal.
Gimli's eyes narrowed for a moment, pretending to consider on the grounds of his disapproval. Yet he answered a little too quickly to be effective. "Aye. After all, someone 'as t' make certain that you don't get int' a tight spot." He cast Legolas a sidelong glance and muttered for good measure, "Crazy Elf!"
* * *
It was nearing midday when Aragorn finally got his men mobile. Of the seven who had survived, only four were able to sit a horse and one of those had to have his legs lashed to the girth. The three men who had been too badly hurt to ride were bundled up against the cold and placed on roughly hewn sleds. In all, ten horses remained to them; several had been killed and others had broken free from the picket line and disappeared into the forest. Among them was an older stallion who managed to collect the others and eventually led them to the rich pastures of the South Farthing in the Shire.
Aragorn ranged ahead, searching for any signs of danger. By mid-afternoon he came upon the Road and turned due South with it; he dared not cross the mountains. Even with healthy men, the weather was such that he would not have taken that route again. The Road was safer, the various realms having pooled their resources to maintain and expand the thoroughfares of Middle Earth as colonies of Men and Dwarves began to travel and tame the land. It was his hope to find a homestead nearby where he might find aid.
They stopped before sundown to camp on the side of the Road, and though exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, Aragorn kept watch alone. Throughout the night he puffed at his pipe and let his thoughts roam. He thought of Arwen in Gondor and he knew that she stood at her window, singing to the baby growing within her and listening to the stars. He worried that the Hobbits would be the enemy's next target. Legolas and Gimli were much on his mind also; he feared that the dwarf would have a difficulty keeping his friend from following Elrohir. But mostly he thought of Gandalf and keenly longed for the wizard's guidance, though he did not expect for him to step out of the shadows a few hours before dawn.
"Gandalf!" Aragorn whispered, barely able to contain his excitement and relief. "I am glad you are here. I am in need of your aid."
The White Wizard dismounted, shining like the pale moon overhead. "I can see that," he replied upon taking in the state of the sleeping soldiers. They had erected no tents, but lay huddled in canvas bedrolls and thick travel blankets. "I did not expect to meet you here, though I can guess at what happened. I have been moving swiftly and have learned much. I regret to say that our danger grows. Still, you had best tell me everything," Gandalf said, sitting down and lighting his pipe.
* * *
Legolas reclined alone in the Hall of Fire, reading and sipping a light golden wine. After Elrond sealed their bargain, Gimli had gone to speak with his party. The Lord of Imladris had extended his hospitality through the winter and the dwarves readily accepted the invitation to stay. Now his friend was busily writing letters of instructions for to provide for the unknown length of his absence.
Legolas had not seen either of the twins since breakfast and though Erestor often came and went through the Hall on his way to other errands, he had otherwise been left to his own devices. It was nearing supper time when Elrohir entered and came to lean over the back of the plush bench on which he sat.
"Father said you were able to walk on your own today," Elrohir grinned and his eyes glittered merrily in the firelight. "And he mentioned that you would have something important to tell me."
Setting the book on his lap Legolas laughed and the sound rolled through the Hall like a bubbling spring in a cave. "I fear you may not believe me if I tell you," he said in all honesty.
Elrohir's brows knit together. "Father seemed to be in a pleasant mood; I had assumed the news to be good. Why do you hesitate?"
Legolas took Elrohir's right hand in both of his. "All is well. In fact, Elrond had released me into Gimli's care and I am going with you!" he laughed again at the expression which came over Elrohir's face. "Does this news please you?"
"More than you know!" the dark-haired elf practically sang, coming around to sit on the floor. "But how can it be so? Are you not still wounded?"
"Yes, and there are many rules to follow regarding that fact. Nevertheless Elrond agrees with me that my place is at your side," Legolas murmured, leaning down to slip his arms around Elrohir's neck. He pressed their foreheads together and their breath mingled, warm and sweet with the flavour of the wine, a gentle contrast to the wood-smoke rising from the hearth. For long moments they sat wordlessly, though their hearts whispered soul-deep secrets to one another.
"I will not ask you to come with us over the sea, though I dearly wish you to, for I have learned that lesson the hard way. In the Havens there is no time even for those not bound by mortality. But for every day we are not together in body as well as spirit will be keenly felt. If ever you feel loving eyes upon you, know that they are mine. I will be watching you through the mirror of water and sighing my devotion to your heart from afar," Elrohir vowed quietly. "All of Arda is truly blessed so long as your fair feet walk upon this world."
"Your words are as honey; though I shall never tire of their sweetness. Do not tempt me," Legolas begged. "I may forsake this place if you say any more."
* * *
See, that wasn't so bad, was it?
Woah! Really long chapter, huh? And most of it was done over the last three days. I hope it didn't suck 'cuz I was exhausted the entire time and I hardly remember what I've written.
Is it just me, or does anyone else feel that Saberon is a bit like Hitler? I actually intended it that way. There are few more calculatingly evil geniuses in history; and I've spent a lot of time studying that time period (I'm a bit of a nerd, I confess. Yay Discovery Channel!!). Besides, I don't know or want to guess at the thought processes of Osama and Saddam *shudder* scary men!