CHAPTER 6:
I sighed impatiently, got up and left Legolas. 'Hey! Where are you going?' he yelled, flicking his hair out his pasta.
'To try and find some clothes that's not white!' I yelled over my shoulder.
'If you're packing, you may need my help. Arwen's clothing is charmed. They blow up if you touch it!'
'Well it hasn't so far, has it?'
'Good point, but still. I'm bored.'
'Go brush your hair, then. It's a little bit stuffed at the back.'
'What? Really? Orqu! Hey, no it's not!'
'Slow realization, but true, it's not. It's perfect, as usual.' I slowed down to let him catch up.
10 minutes later, I was flipping impatiently through the whiteness hunting for anything a shade darker than white.
It turned out that none of Arwen's dresses had charms on them - so much for Legolas' "they blow up if you touch it" theorem.
'Ah ha! Finally! 3 non-white dresses!' I cried, pulling out a black, emerald green and blood red dresses that was lined femininely with gold trimming. They looked as if they were never worn.
'Wow, will you look at that!' But he wasn't looking at the 3 dresses; he had spotted another thing. He sprang up and extracted a long thin-material brown cloak. 'These are worth heaps! Very warm and does not reflect light, though I do not see how Lady Arwen needs it in Rivendell.' He tossed it at me.
I caught it and folded it quickly into a woven bag. 'Which dress should I wear the day we leave?'
'Hmm, black. It'll be amusing to see Arwen wear something that's completely dark.'
'Hmph,' I grunted, flinging the other 2 dresses into the bag. 'What are you bringing?'
He gestured to what he was wearing. He, like Aragorn was wearing tights and a shirt, although Legolas' tights were looser and his shirt came halfway down his tights. I looked at his ageless face, his skin so fair and flawless.
'How old are you?' I asked, suddenly.
'3041 years old,' he replied. He must had noticed my shocked face because he asked, 'Why. how old are you?'
'15.'
He laughed. 'So young,' he grinned. He patted me on the head. 'My little toddler!'
The day the Fellowship left was grey and gloomy - very suiting considering we were walking into evil shit. It was almost dark and a bitter cold wind was whistling around us. I pulled Arwen's cloak closer around me. I watched the other companions loading themselves with their weapons and the poor pony with food and blankets. Aragorn slashed the sword proudly through the air, making it gleam in the grey light. Legolas slung his bow and quiver on his back swifly, and added a long knife in his belt. I shuddered realizing that these instruments were going to be the cause of people's deaths.
'My daughter!' Elrond called, through the still cold dimness. 'Take this sword and may I wish you well with it.' He came up to me and gave me a graceful sword studded with rubies, enclosed in its bronze case. Surprisingly it was much lighter than it looked, but I still edged away from it.
'Uh, no thanks, it'll be fine without a weapon.' I said, hastily.
'You need protection, Arwen.'
'Just take it. I daresay we'll be using it before long,' Legolas hissed, as he passed me. I then nodded at Elrond and accepted the damn thing. Elrond embraced me and pecked me on the forehead.
'Good luck, my daughter. Return to us soon,' he said. I smiled and nodded. He then turned to the nine companions gravely and gave a good-luck speech, which I half listened to. 'Farewell, and may the blessing of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces.' The nine companions bowed their heads.
We then picked up our things, and with Sam leading the pony, we made our past the people of Elrond and past the protective gates of Rivendell, where danger lay - danger which I would have to face involuntarily. I turned back as we sank deeper into woods, away from safety. I saw grim faces, hopeful faces, and a distraught face of Elrond trying to compose himself. I wished at that moment I was back in boring Brisbane with my friends watching stupid Mark Read train, and Arwen would be most definitely by Elrond's side watching her love Aragorn and other brave people march into the unknown. It would be her pain. Her life. Not mine.
This is not faith. This is not meant to be. I'm not meant to be here. I should be at home now or at school, living my life. Not a fictional character's. Not a fictional character's life who's obviously not meant to be walking this faith anyway.
I'm going to probably end up dead, lying in a ditch somewhere, wishing I had my friends and family around me, instead of nine strangers that knew I wasn't strong enough to survive, watching me die.
The journey I'm about to face. It's doom. And I'm doom to it.
If I run back to Rivendell, to sweet safety, I'm doomed. If I continue, I'm still doomed. I'm doomed either way. Doomed and no one can help me. Doomed. Doomed. Doomed.
I sighed impatiently, got up and left Legolas. 'Hey! Where are you going?' he yelled, flicking his hair out his pasta.
'To try and find some clothes that's not white!' I yelled over my shoulder.
'If you're packing, you may need my help. Arwen's clothing is charmed. They blow up if you touch it!'
'Well it hasn't so far, has it?'
'Good point, but still. I'm bored.'
'Go brush your hair, then. It's a little bit stuffed at the back.'
'What? Really? Orqu! Hey, no it's not!'
'Slow realization, but true, it's not. It's perfect, as usual.' I slowed down to let him catch up.
10 minutes later, I was flipping impatiently through the whiteness hunting for anything a shade darker than white.
It turned out that none of Arwen's dresses had charms on them - so much for Legolas' "they blow up if you touch it" theorem.
'Ah ha! Finally! 3 non-white dresses!' I cried, pulling out a black, emerald green and blood red dresses that was lined femininely with gold trimming. They looked as if they were never worn.
'Wow, will you look at that!' But he wasn't looking at the 3 dresses; he had spotted another thing. He sprang up and extracted a long thin-material brown cloak. 'These are worth heaps! Very warm and does not reflect light, though I do not see how Lady Arwen needs it in Rivendell.' He tossed it at me.
I caught it and folded it quickly into a woven bag. 'Which dress should I wear the day we leave?'
'Hmm, black. It'll be amusing to see Arwen wear something that's completely dark.'
'Hmph,' I grunted, flinging the other 2 dresses into the bag. 'What are you bringing?'
He gestured to what he was wearing. He, like Aragorn was wearing tights and a shirt, although Legolas' tights were looser and his shirt came halfway down his tights. I looked at his ageless face, his skin so fair and flawless.
'How old are you?' I asked, suddenly.
'3041 years old,' he replied. He must had noticed my shocked face because he asked, 'Why. how old are you?'
'15.'
He laughed. 'So young,' he grinned. He patted me on the head. 'My little toddler!'
The day the Fellowship left was grey and gloomy - very suiting considering we were walking into evil shit. It was almost dark and a bitter cold wind was whistling around us. I pulled Arwen's cloak closer around me. I watched the other companions loading themselves with their weapons and the poor pony with food and blankets. Aragorn slashed the sword proudly through the air, making it gleam in the grey light. Legolas slung his bow and quiver on his back swifly, and added a long knife in his belt. I shuddered realizing that these instruments were going to be the cause of people's deaths.
'My daughter!' Elrond called, through the still cold dimness. 'Take this sword and may I wish you well with it.' He came up to me and gave me a graceful sword studded with rubies, enclosed in its bronze case. Surprisingly it was much lighter than it looked, but I still edged away from it.
'Uh, no thanks, it'll be fine without a weapon.' I said, hastily.
'You need protection, Arwen.'
'Just take it. I daresay we'll be using it before long,' Legolas hissed, as he passed me. I then nodded at Elrond and accepted the damn thing. Elrond embraced me and pecked me on the forehead.
'Good luck, my daughter. Return to us soon,' he said. I smiled and nodded. He then turned to the nine companions gravely and gave a good-luck speech, which I half listened to. 'Farewell, and may the blessing of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces.' The nine companions bowed their heads.
We then picked up our things, and with Sam leading the pony, we made our past the people of Elrond and past the protective gates of Rivendell, where danger lay - danger which I would have to face involuntarily. I turned back as we sank deeper into woods, away from safety. I saw grim faces, hopeful faces, and a distraught face of Elrond trying to compose himself. I wished at that moment I was back in boring Brisbane with my friends watching stupid Mark Read train, and Arwen would be most definitely by Elrond's side watching her love Aragorn and other brave people march into the unknown. It would be her pain. Her life. Not mine.
This is not faith. This is not meant to be. I'm not meant to be here. I should be at home now or at school, living my life. Not a fictional character's. Not a fictional character's life who's obviously not meant to be walking this faith anyway.
I'm going to probably end up dead, lying in a ditch somewhere, wishing I had my friends and family around me, instead of nine strangers that knew I wasn't strong enough to survive, watching me die.
The journey I'm about to face. It's doom. And I'm doom to it.
If I run back to Rivendell, to sweet safety, I'm doomed. If I continue, I'm still doomed. I'm doomed either way. Doomed and no one can help me. Doomed. Doomed. Doomed.