Title: From Far Away
Author: Jagged Scars
Pairing: Legolas/Elenion
Status: Work in Progress
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings
Author's note:
Well thank you everyone for reviewing, it's been pretty cool to get feedback from all of you. I'm sorry for the late updates, I having a bit of trouble figuring what I want to keep and add to the chapters from LacuStellar. But from here it's all going to be originally me.
Thanks to Phaenilix for editing my last chapter in her review.
Summery: Harry has lost his reasons to stay in his own world. His magic takes him to a world called Middle Earth. He finds himself in new life and perhaps even a new family. HP/LOTR crossover, will be slash.
Welcome to the fifth chapter of From Far Away: Drowning
He was back at the bottom of the ocean, the gentle waves rocking back and forth robbed him of his anxiety. Elenion drifted lazily through the currents, slowly rising towards the surface and the light. The water became warmer, the light became brighter and then suddenly it all became a searing white hot pain.
The world was burning.
Flames warmed the night and screams chased away the silence. Tension filled the air while spells clashed and met and bodies feel indiscriminately. Harry wove through the battle attempting to get as far away from the action as possible. This was not suppose to be happening. This fight should not have been possible. An Order member fell to his feet as the emerald eyed man's comrade sent another spell at their once friends.
"Dumbledore's arrived!"
It was a tension that refused to leave, a fear that ate at the bottom of his stomach as Elenion watched Gandalf warily from the window. It had been two weeks since the wizard had turned up. Two weeks since the elfling had gotten a full night's sleep. Two weeks since the nightmares had started and memories in vivid clarity came back to haunt his dreams. Battles waged, bodies dropped, death waxed and lives waned while the world fell into pure chaos.
The sun was only beginning to peek over the horizon when Elenion awoke in a cold sweat. A soft breeze swept through the room carrying the sweet smell of morning dew and the last vintages of the evening chill. The soft silk sheets of his bed rubbed against his raw clammy skin- soft, wet, warm... almost like the feel of blood. Hazy emerald eyes looked distantly around the room, seeing yet not seeing. Unfocused images of familiar figures slipped slowly though the cracks in his mind. The blood, the bodies, the death... slowly all that faded into the recesses of his thoughts till all he saw was the elegant room he now reside in. A depression fell over him.
Loneliness. Sorrow. Pain.
Feelings which engulfed him, yet held no real connections to anything but vague memories of times from another life.
Then there was Dumbledore, the only thing he could remember in a vivid clarity.
He could remember the old man in his entirety. The long white beard and pointed wizards cap, the stupidly bright robes and the obsessive love of lemon drops.
He could also remember the anger. The pure unadulterated anger underlined with fear.
Remember the fear of manipulation.
The fear of control.
The fear of failing...
... of being wrong...
Emerald eyes snapped into focus, dispelling the depression he had allowed himself to fall into as he pushed off the blankets and tossed on some clothes before leaving the room in a flurry of silent movement. Today was not a day he wanted to be anywhere near Rivendell and Gandolf.
Quietly he creped though the sleepy hallways, making his way to the garden and deeper still into the forest that bordered the Elven city. The world was only really beginning to wake when he arrived at the lake. The soft sunlight glistened gently over the placid water, lighting the surface in liquid silver. Elenion smiled, the image invoking feelings from happier times. Watered down imaged of a beautiful blond and a tender moment.
A bird sang out, the wind picked up and the image was dispelled like a rock dropping onto the surface of a lake. Fleeting, fading, and almost like it was never there.
The emerald child exhaled attempting to push the feeling of melancholy away only to give it up as a bad job and settling down to meditate. Time to center himself. Elenion sighed before taking a deep breath and picking up a good size straight stick; another breath followed before he allowed himself to sink into the repetitive motions he had long since learn.
The sun was high in the sky when Elenion was disturbed from his katas, sweat poured down his back, his muscles ache, but he felt good. Fluidly, he cut through the air in one graceful arch before his concentration was broken by the sound of someone clapping in the clearing. Instantly the young elfling stick was transformed into a blade at the intruders throat.
Sharp emerald eyes fell upon the Istari.
"Eleion," The old Wizard greeted.
"Lord Gandalf," Eleion responded coolly backing away slightly. Blade still at the ready though inside he was cursing himself for his actions. What kind of idiot was he?!
"You know the other elves are looking for you." he commented casually, " I wonder what they would have said if they had found you training alone here." This was a demand for answers. Emerald eyes turned icy and narrowed though he remained silent and his facial expression stayed the same as he relaxed his muscles warily.
Gandalf continued, "It is curious how a child like you, an elfling, would know how to use a sword that well, especially since your brothers tell me you refuse to touch a sword." another jab, another demand- a taunt. The voices got closer.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing, it's just curious," Suspicious was the unsaid word, "Do you mind if..." The elder trailed off but Elenion understood as Gandalf gestured to his staff.
"Why should I?"
"It's true I can't really make you but it seems like you don't want anyone to know." Elenion growled at the implication.
"And I still refuse?"
"Well there was that interesting little bit about that stick transforming into a sword." Gandalf commented idly, and there it was.
"Fine," he spat tossing the 'sword' away where it landed with a dull thump as a stick. Quickly he allowed his magic to pool in his hand before it disbursed in a low flash of light to reveal a thin nearly transparent sword.
"Is that sword yours, little one?" Gandalf asked with unnoticeable tremor in his voice once he regained it from shock. It was such a beautiful sword.
The elfling did not offer words, but he did nod to the question. The elder took his stance in front of Elenion. They had at least seven or so feet between them. The old wizard had raised his staff, ready to attack. Elenion on the other hand was merely gazing him intently on sideways. He was clearly waiting for Gandalf to move. After few moments of waiting Ganfalf bended to Elenion's desire swinging his staff at the elfling.
Eleion predicted that move before Gandalf had even moved his staff. He easily defended that attack and slid his sword along the edge to reach the older man's neck while not giving the other weapon space to move towards himself. Gandalf's eyes widened with surprise. It was tactical move, something that he had not expected to see from the elfling. He was fast enough to dodge the attack though.
The Istari jumped away from Elenion straightening up as he gazed down to the little one. There was a pause. If this form of attack wasn't working then manybe.... He swung his staff in a circular motion before he charged again, this time with more concentration.
Elenion could see that Gandalf had changed a little bit from his previous mood. He took a battle stance, one that was very familiar to him. Too familiar. A stance that was perfect for defending but even better for offensive. He did the same movement as he had before, but this time with more speed and power. Gandalf wasn't caught with surprise, swiftly he moved away and began to cast.
Fire rained from the sky in random intervals causing Elenion to curse as he dodged away from the projectiles. Smoke bellowed across the battlefield, the smell of sulfure flooded Elenion's nose causing memories to surface and old battles to reemerge. Then it was as if he wasn't there anymore and he was back fighting deatheaters.
The attacked waned and Elenion stilled, tense and waiting. The bodies of dead comrades flashing through his mind as his eyes dulled down to unpolished jade. The world stilled. Then he was moving. Gandalf made a move to strip Elenion of his sword, but the little elfling was whirling around before he could even get even footing, right behind the wizard. He swung his blade towards the neck.
Gandalf ducked just in time and jumping a few feet away from the elfling, but Elenion was fast. Their weapons meet with a loud clash. Before Gandalf could even think of an attack or even blink his eyes, Elenion disappeared from his sight.
Elenion had ducked downwards and was holding himself up with his two hands and one foot while his other food swung violently to Gandalf's legs. The elder wizard fell down. Swiftly Elenion was on his feet again and his sword's swinging for the killing blow.
"ELENION!" A voice yelled from near by, breaking the elfling from his flashbacks. Horrified the elfling stared down at Gandalf before dispelling his sword and running away.
What had he done?
Author's note: Well I'm sorry it took so long for the update, life has thrown me a bunch of curve balls is all. I'll try to be more consistent or at the very least not wait a good couple of months to update again.
-J. Scars