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Post by Karri on Jan 18, 2005 23:10:50 GMT -5
Aragorn’s shoulder drooped dolefully as his listened to his friend spill out his inner turmoil. He was aware of the sea-longing -- indeed, everyone close to Legolas knew the gulls had affected him thus –- but he had not realized how strong it had grown. How could I not have seen it? How could I not have known? I should have expected it, with his father’s departure. What else has he now to keep him in Middle-earth? The thought sent a shudder of fear and foreboding slithering down Aragorn’s spine.
He has nothing else, the king silently lamented. He will go. I shall lose him to the sea, and there is naught I can do prevent it. Aragorn slumped further with the realization, but then he forced his spine to straighten. There is naught I can do to prevent his going, but there is aught that I can do. I can let him go and be glad for him. Indeed, I can! I will! I shall send him off with a brotherly hug and smile upon my face, for he is my friend, and I owe him that much –- to allow him to depart unburdened by the guilt of my sorrow.
Aragorn rouse from his thoughts as Legolas’s voice fell away. He glanced over to find that his friend’s eyes had closed. Thinking him merely spent utterly by the emotional release, Aragorn shifted to adjust the cloak covering Legolas, wanting to ensure no breeze would disturb his rest. The deathly paleness of his friend’s elegant visage captured his attention, though, and as he stared, enthralled by the elf’s ethereal stillness, his stomach knotted anxiously. He has nothing to hold him here! The implications made Aragorn nauseas.
Legolas’s injuries were dire, even for an elf. Ordinarily, Aragorn still would not have doubted that his friend would recover. Legolas was strong, one of the strongest people Aragorn knew, or at least he had been. Was he still? What toll had the sea-longing taken his spirit? Had it been taxed too heavily to maintain its hold on a body so grievously hurt?
Aragorn’s tension muscle wound tighter, pull at his wound, but he did not notice. If only I comprehended what he was going through… I should never have on so long a journey. He lies there wounded because of my selfishness, because I would not travel so far without his company, and now… Nay! Aragorn shook his head, refusing to believe that death could claim his friend. This was Legolas Thranduilion! He could not die!
Shoving the dreadful thoughts aside, the King shifted his focus back to tucking the cloak snuggly around his friend. Aragorn paused again a moment later, though, as his fingers encountered unexpected moisture. He frowned. Surely, I would not have been so careless as to have laid Legolas upon damp ground?
His frown deepened as Aragorn rested a hand on his friend’s chest. There, in the dim light of the fire, he saw a dark stain upon his fingers. Lifting his hand to his face for a closer look, the King’s eyes grew wide.
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Post by Deana on Jan 26, 2005 0:31:26 GMT -5
With a gasp, Aragorn quickly pulled the cloak off Legolas, to see that blood had soaked through the bandages around the elf's side. Reaching under Legolas' shoulder, he found that the wetness was not from damp ground, but blood. The bandages around Legolas' arm had also turned red, and Aragorn was shocked.
All of his injuries are bleeding again! he realized. How can that be?
Unwrapping Legolas' side, he found that despite the stitches, blood seeped between them. That could mean only one thing; a blood-thinning poison had coated the arrow.
"Legolas," Aragorn called, nervously, as he searched through his healing pack for an herb to counter the effects. "Legolas!"
The elf didn't answer, obviously unconscious.
Aragorn quickly dropped the herbs into a cup and poured boiled water into it, dissolving the leaves. He added some cold water to cool it down, and carefully pulled the elf into his lap. "Legolas," he said, giving him a gentle shake.
The elf didn't move, so Aragorn carefully fed him the medicine, thankful that swallowing was a reflexive action.
After getting the whole cup into his friend, Aragorn gently laid him down again, putting pressure on the wounds to stop the bleeding. Legolas couldn't afford to lose anymore blood; he'd already lost far too much.
The bleeding eventually slowed as the herbs thickened his blood again, and finally, the bleeding stopped.
Aragorn sat back with relief, but a jolt of fear shot down his spine at the site of his friend's nearly colorless face. Please, he prayed, desperately. Please don't take my friend from me...please let him survive...
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Post by Joee on Jan 27, 2005 18:59:33 GMT -5
When Legolas opened his eyes he was slightly disoriented. He was no longer in the forest that he and Aragorn had been journeying in, but rather, he was back in Mirkwood, or at least Mirkwood as it had appeared when he was but a small elfling. The forest had always been inhabited by some evil his entire lifetime, but while he was still small, the trees seems less consumed by the shadow and everything appeared much lighter. A visiting human might not have noticed much difference, but to a wood-elf, the difference in the atmosphere was a different as night and day.
But how could I have possibly gotten here? This isn’t right! The shadow overcame these trees many years ago, and even though it has receded some since the ring was destroyed, it could not have possibly returned to its previous glory so fast.
Legolas heard the snapping of a branch behind him and immediately went for his bow, which he sorely realized wasn’t there. He tried to gaze through the trees to see the oncoming threat but was unable due to the bright light shining through them that nearly blinded him.
Another snapping twig.
“Hello? Is someone there? Show yourself!”
Whatever Legolas was expecting to see clearly wasn’t what emerged from the trees. He gasped in shock as his eyes trailed over the figure that walked up next to him. It had been hundreds of years since he had last seen her face, but now she was there, as solid as ever, standing right in front of him. Legolas couldn’t resist, he just had to see if it was real. He reached out one slender hand and touched the woman in front of him. “Nana?”
The elf before him smiled sweetly. “Yes Legolas, it is I.”
“But…but how? You died when I was only an elfling! How is this possible?” He looked around for a second, realisation dawning on him. “Am I dead?”
“No child, you are not dead yet,” she said softly, “but you do have a choice before you. I have been sent here to tell you that your body has been seriously wounded and will not survive long without you putting all the strength you have into fighting for your life. However, if you do not want to, if you have become too tired to continue this battle, your feä may follow mine to Mandos’ Halls now if you wish it, but you must be certain of your choice.”
Legolas was becoming distressed. He had never even heard of anything like this happening before, why was it happening to him? “But I don’t understand! Why am I being offered this choice now? I have been grievously injured many times in my life and never before had a choice to make!”
“This time your soul has also taken a hurt. The sea longing calls to you Legolas, I know it does. It is slowly tearing you apart, and the longer you remain in Middle-Earth the more painful and strenuous it becomes to fight.” She took her son’s hand in her own. “You are being offered a chance to ease your suffering.”
Legolas gaped at her before settling himself down against a tree to contemplate his choices. Do I really want to die now? I would not be like me to give up so easily, especially in a situation like this. But I do grow tired of the constant fighting. It would be nice after so many years to be at peace and be with Naneth who I have missed dearly all my life. But then what about Ada? If I were to follow Naneth, he would surely succumb to grief. He has often told me I am the only thing keeping him in this world. Ai! I cannot be responsible for his death. And what of Aragorn? He is the reason I do not yet take the ship to the West. How could I possibly desert him now?
He was about to make up his mind to return when his previous thought came back to him. But what of Nana? It seems wrong that I should have to leave her so soon. And what of the pain? I do not know if I can even make it until Aragorn leaves the circles of this world, and what then? Even the thought of losing my best friend sends daggers of dread into my heart. Will I be able to survive once he leaves me? I just do not know what to do!
“I am sorry Legolas, but the time has come. You must make your decision now or it will be too late and you will have no choice but to come with me. You need to choose.”
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Post by Gwenneth on Jan 31, 2005 23:36:17 GMT -5
Choose. Funny how horribly simple a word it was, but how terribly difficult a concept. How could he choose between Aragorn, Arwen and his friends in Middle-Earth? How could he choose between his Naneth and his Adar? But I must choose and I must do it now... he thought as he watched his mother's shimmering body fade by the second.
His tongue, however, was not as strong-willed as his mind and he found he could not say a thing. Not a word. He closed his eyes, intending to gather his senses before choosing, but the minute his eyes closed his mind was flooded with images.
The glistening Evenstar pendant lay limp in his hand as he stood atop a cliff in Rohan. The wind played with his hair and the lingering weight of Theoden's hand still tingled upon his shoulder.
His friend had fallen. And since the death of his mother, he had not felt such despair. Not even the presence of his now dear friend Gimli could ease the hurt in his heart.
The image changed.
Arwen, her soft features betrayed the fear in her face as Aragorn, bedecked with the garments of the King of Gondor, approached her and her standard.
Legolas blinked and in a moment, the fear was gone from her face, replaced with a radiant smile. And he felt truly happy; happier than he had in the longest time. The evil had been defeated and the world sang praise to the peace and tranquilty it had longed for.
He opened his eyes. His mother was gone. But he was still in this place; this lingering world between life and death. And he now knew what he must choose.
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A soft moan reached Aragorn's ears and he jolted upward, immediately turning toward Legolas' still form. Only, the form was no longer still.
The Elf was struggling to wake and he moaned again, moving far more than Aragorn felt he should be. Standing quickly, the man hurried to his friend's side and held him lightly down.
Wide, blurry eyes opened and looked upon the man. Then, a small smile graced the Elf's face. "Aragorn..."
"It is good to see you conscious, mellon nin," the man said, resting a quieting finger on Legolas' lips. "But you should not speak, you are gravely wounded." He paused. "I fear I had lost you."
Legolas stared into his friend's eyes. This was so right. Not the pain. Not the injury. But the relief in Aragorn's eyes at his waking.
"You almost did, gwador nin, but I could not leave you. The choice was before me, but I could not go. I fear you shall be stuck with me for a while longer."
Aragorn, his eyes not betraying the intense stab of fear that Legolas' admission had struck in his heart, nodded dryly. I was far closer to losing him than I thought then...
Gathering himself, he laid a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "I am forever grateful that you chose life, Legolas. I do not know how I could live without you. While Men may not die of grief nor broken hearts, and while I still would have had Arwen, my life would have withered a little each day in your absence."
Legolas nodded lightly. "You and Arwen are what made the decision for me. And my father...for it would pain me to not see him in Valinor after you and dear Arwen leave this world."
The man nodded. "And your mother?" He knew, somehow, that the Elf-maiden was likely the only thing drawing Legolas toward death as an option. "Do you not regret choosing us over her?"
For a moment, Legolas did not answer. His wounds were becoming insistent now and he only wished to lay and sleep. But he had to answer.
"My mother was taken long ago Aragorn. Though I still love her, I love you and Arwen and father too much to give in to death just to be with her. We shall see each other someday...when those in Mandos' Halls and those in the Havens are reunited."
With a smile, Aragorn nodded. "I don't mean to be selfish, but I'm sure glad you decided this way. I hope to have many more years with you. I only hope the Sea leaves you alone for a while."
Oddly...mention of the Sea did not tear at Legolas' heart this time. He sighed and nodded. "Aye, I hope so as well.
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Post by Karri on Feb 17, 2005 22:44:12 GMT -5
Still and thoughtful, Aragorn watched his friend dream. There was a peacefulness in the rhythmic breathing of sleep. Aragorn’s head nodded as it slowly lured the ranger toward his own dreams. Waking with a start, he rose stiffly and stretched long and slow.
“Nay, Aragorn, you cannot sleep and leave him unguarded in this dangerous place!” he reminded himself and went to work gathering up their camp, instead. The camp was small, though, and so it was not long before he found himself seated again before his friend, watching the pale elf’s chest gently rise and fall.
The feel of an intense gaze boring into him slowly roused Legolas. He lay still unable to muster the will to force his eyelids open again so soon. The watching eyes continued to press down upon him, though, until he could stand the close scrutiny no longer. “Aragorn?”
“Legolas!” answered the ranger. “You are awake again so soon? What is it? Do you need something for the pain?”
“Nay, it is not pain that disturbs me; it is you,” said Legolas bluntly, too spent to mince words.
“Me?” Aragorn queried bemusedly. “But I am just sitting here.”
Legolas finally pried his open a crack, though it took a minute to work up the energy, and glanced disgruntledly at his friend. “You are staring!”
“I…uh…well, I just…,” Aragorn sputtered, taken aback.
“Nevermind,” Legolas interjected through a yawn, his eyes slipping shut.
The elf lay still for several breaths. Certain he had fallen to back to sleep, Aragorn rested his elbows on his thighs, cupped his chin in his hands, and settled in to continue his watch. Feeling the ranger’s renewed scrutiny, Legolas sighed wearily.
“We should be on way before more trouble finds us,” he said after a moment. Forcing his heavy eyelids back up, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, grimacing with the effort.
“Ai, Legolas! Easy!” cried Aragorn, leaping to his friend’s side. Gingerly sliding his arms around the elf, he eased him up into a sitting position. “You must not strain yourself, mellon nin. I have nearly lost you once today already; my heart could not bear to come so close again.”
Grasping the arm wrapped securely around his chest, Legolas gave it a weak but reassuring squeeze. “Fear not, Estel. I am not go…”
A sudden rustle of leaves in the still air halted the elf’s words. Titling his head back to meet Aragorn’s eyes, he nodded, letting the ranger know he could release him.
Returning the nod, Aragorn slowly rose, reaching the knife he had tucked into his belt after their encounter with the strange man. Creeping silently forward, he listened intently for some sign of approaching danger.
“Ah, there you two are!”
So intently focused was the ranger that he nearly jumped out of his skin as a hobbit abruptly emerged from the trees. “Merry?” he said disbelievingly, when he finally found his voice again.
“And Pippin!” came a voice still hidden in the tree-shadows. Its owner emerged a moment later, grinning broadly.
Aragorn gaze bemusedly at the two hobbits. “What…”
“We have come to meet you!” interrupted Pippin, guessing his question.
“We have indeed,” confirmed Merry. “There’s been trouble afoot in these woods of late, so we thought it best to come along and make sure you made it safely from Bree.”
Aragorn thingyed his head quizzically, wondering how much safer Merry supposed the journey would be with two hobbits tagging along. He said naught, though, noting the knife worn upon each hobbit’s belt. Aragorn smiled affectionately. They may not have been of great use in a fight, but he doubted not that they would have fought valiantly nonetheless.
“Oh dear,” Pippin cried in alarm, startling Aragorn out of his musing. “We are too late it seems.”
The ranger did not need to follow the young hobbit's gaze to know that it had fallen upon Legolas.
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Post by Deana on Feb 25, 2005 16:24:15 GMT -5
Legolas gave the hobbits a shaky smile, as the two small beings ran over to him.
"What happened to you, Legolas?!" Pippin cried, dropping to his knees beside him and grabbing the elf's hand, laying his other hand on Legolas' forehead to check for fever.
"We were attacked," Legolas told them, as Merry joined his friend. "By wolves and…a strange man."
Merry gasped. "A strange man? Why, he was the reason that the woods were not safe! Is he dead?"
"Aye," said Aragorn, kneeling beside them. "He no longer lives."
The hobbits looked relieved.
"We don't know his name," said Pippin. "He was a bandit who owned those wolves, and they attacked and robbed everyone that he came across! I'm so glad that he didn't kill you!"
He nearly did, Legolas thought. He gave the young hobbit another smile, touched at his concern. "Hannon le, Pippin," he said, tiredly closing his eyes.
A second later, he was painfully shaken. "Legolas! Open your eyes!"
Legolas obeyed, trying to hide a wince.
"Pippin!" Aragorn said, grabbing the hobbit's hands.
"Why'd you do that, Pip?" Merry asked. "He's not dying!" He looked at Aragorn. "Right?"
"I-I heard that it's bad when an elf closes his eyes," said Pippin.
Aragorn gave him a gentle smile. "Elves normally sleep with their eyes open, as you know, and when they sleep with them closed, it indicates injury or exhaustion. It is normal for an elf to close his eyes when injury is present."
Pippin gave Legolas a sheepish look. "I'm sorry."
"Worry not," Legolas said, not able to prevent them from closing again.
The two hobbits studied the elf, taking note of each injury.
"I wish we'd bought horses," said Merry. "We didn't even think to."
"It's all right," said Aragorn. "It's not far; I'll carry him."
At that, Legolas reopened his eyes.
"Do not try to protest," said Aragorn, smiling slightly. "You haven't the strength to stand, nevermind walk."
Legolas sighed, saying nothing, knowing that Aragorn was right.
Soon, they were ready to leave, and the hobbits carried the supplies while Aragorn carried his friend.
Legolas tried to hold back a gasp of pain as the human lifted him, and he managed to succeed by holding his breath and biting his lip.
Pippin saw the elf's agony and reached out a hand to comfortingly pat Legolas' uninjured arm.
Aragorn walked slowly, not wanting to cause more pain to Legolas, who drifted in and out of sleep. The injured elf was in more pain than he would admit though, and his slumber was greatly troubled by the wound in his side, which was extremely uncomfortable thanks to his body's position.
A couple of hours later, they finally reached their destination. The massive pain in Legolas' side lessened when he was carefully laid on a soft bed, and he sighed with relief as he drifted off to sleep again.
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Post by Joee on Mar 2, 2005 19:41:38 GMT -5
It was a couple hours later when Legolas woke. He noticed that he was lying on his good side with his knees pulled up towards his chest. He thought it was an odd position for Aragorn to place him in but it wasn’t until he went to straighten out his cramped legs that he realized the reason. It was because of then bed, or more precisely, the lack thereof, for in the middle of his shins, the bed simply ended. “Hobbits,” he muttered as he shook his head.
Legolas scanned the small and cluttered room he found himself in. Maybe cluttered was an understatement, there didn’t seem to be any appropriate word for the amount of stuff packed into the bedroom. Every possible surface was covered with items from books and maps to small toys and of course, items collected form the quest. These things had a corner to themselves. Legolas could spot the two swords that the hobbits had obtained in the barrow-downs and never got rid of. There were also two small Lorien cloaks and broaches, a jerkin with the white tree of Gondor on it, a Rohan shield, and various other knickknacks.
One thing the room was missing, Legolas noted, was the lack of Aragorn’s presence. Whenever he was injured he could always count of seeing the ranger’s scruffy face hovering above his own when he woke. It was disconcerting to find him missing for a moment until Legolas detected three murmuring voices drifting down the hall.
Slowly he began to push himself up into a sitting position. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, that all he would have to do was call and Aragorn would be right there to help him, but he needed to get up and stretch his muscles (well, that and he knew it would drive his friend insane, which was always fun). Ignoring the scream of protest in his side, the elf managed to get to his feet. He had to stay still for a moment to ward off the dizzy spell that overcame him, but after that he was able to move.
One thing he immediately noticed as he stood was how low the ceilings were. Because of his present condition, he couldn’t stand fully upright without pulling on the wound in his side, but had be been able to, his head would have been able to touch the roof.
Once out of the room, he found himself in a long wide hall from which doors led off into different rooms. Across from the bedroom appeared to be a parlour, which, just like the previous room, was filled with junk. Legolas paused to briefly contemplate whether he had ever owned this much stuff in his entire life. He doubted it. Continuing towards the sound of the voices he came to two opposing doors. One he could see clearly led to a bathing room, while the other door, which was partially shut, led to the kitchen judging by the smells that were emerging from in there.
He pushed open the door and the conversation stopped as all eyes turned to him.
“Legolas!” cried Aragorn as he got up from the table and rushed over to the elf. “You should not be up. Come, sit here,” he said, helping the weak elf into the chair he had just vacated. “What are you doing up mellon nin?”
“I just…say Pippin, what is that delicious smell?”
The hobbit looked longingly at the bird that was cooking over the fire. “It’s dinner and it’s almost ready. It’s roasted chicken, covered with-”
“Do not try to change the subject Legolas,” warned Aragorn, catching on to his friend's trick, “you could have hurt yourself. What if you had fallen while trying to walk here? You could have torn open that wound of your again. I don’t think you can afford to lose any more blood for a while.”
Legolas sighed. “I am sorry Aragorn, I just needed to get out of bed for a while. I promise I will not do so without your permission again nana.”
The king of Gondor would have smacked his friends for that comment had he not been injured.
“So what were you talking about before I interrupted?” asked Legolas.
“Well,” said Aragorn, as he sat in another chair. “Merry and Pippin were just about to tell us all they know about this mysterious bandit. Apparently one of their friends, Fatty, I believe his name was, was attacked but managed to survive.”
All attention then turned to Merry who began to tell all that he knew about the stranger.
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Post by Shadowfax on Mar 9, 2005 18:38:34 GMT -5
Heavy footsteps drifted in the quiet forest as a group of men wandered around trying to locate their missing leader. The trees swayed as the strong, whistling wind attempted to push them over; leaves fell from the branches and got carried away from the gust.
A tall, dark haired man moved out from the cover of the trees and crouched down to observe the ground; a dark red substance could be seen. Looking up he eyed the path ahead and could see bodies of wolves laying motionless on the earth.
He stood up, looked around and motioned for the rest of the small group to follow. They walked cautiously and quietly, pursuing a trail of blood and a set of paw prints. The blood was not fresh, but it was heavily fallen. The path of blood led them to yet another group of dead wolves. The tall man looked over the creatures, pulled an arrow from one of the dead bodies and inspected it.
He looked up once more, and his curious, brown eyes spotted a body of a man, with an arrow shaft prodding from his abdomen.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Aragorn nodded his head as Merry spoke about the stranger, the hobbit didn’t know much, but told what he could remember.
Aragorn then spoke up, "But now that the stranger is dead, you don’t really have much to worry about. Do you?
Aragorns question was taken by silence as the hobbits paused setting the small table. Pippin was the first to break the utter stillness . "We aren’t sure," he eyed Merry again. "we think that there may be others that were with him and…"
Merry interrupted his cousin, "We think they may be looking for something" he paused thinking what to say next. "Many homes were also robbed and destroyed."
Aragorn sat back in the small chair with his arms crossed and thought for a moment. A suggestion struck him as he began to speak.
Legolas tried to listen to the words that his friend spoke, but they soon became echoes that he could barley understand. His head felt really heavy as the world twisted around uncontrollably. He squinted his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to block out the dizziness.
Aragorn focused his attention back on the elf. "Legolas?" his voice showed worry, as a healer he knew that Legolas shouldn’t be up and about, he was too injured and lost too much blood.
The prince tried to open his eyes, he didn’t want to show weakness and he needed to know what was happening. He managed to pry his eyes open, and stared at the concerned face of the ranger. "I’m all right" was the only thing the elf managed to let out before he passed out and fell over, quickly caught in Aragorns arms.
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Post by Karri on Mar 25, 2005 0:48:28 GMT -5
Aragorn lifted Legolas carefully and carried him back to his undersized guest room. Gently settling the elf on the small bed, he released a sigh of pent up frustration. The situation was bad enough without Legolas pressing himself too hard!
“Will he be alright?” Pippin asked worriedly. Aragorn peered over his shoulder at the hobbit fidgeting anxiously in the doorway.
“Yes, I believe so. Elves are fairly resilient creatures,” he assured with a weary smile. Turning back toward Legolas, he added under his breath, “If you can get them to stay still long enough to heal, that is.”
Giving his friend a soft pat on the arm, Aragorn rose and strode to Pippin’s side. Ruffling the hobbit’s hair affectionately, he said, “Come, let us go taste this roasted chicken of yours. We will eat it all while he sleeps and serve him right!”
Pippin stared up aghast. “But…but…he… You would not really! Would you?” he stammered in horror. Aragorn laughed aloud.
“Nay, do not fret, Pippin,” he reassured. “I have no intention of starving him.”
“Really, Pip!” Merry huffed from the hallway. “He was only teasing, of course.”
Aragorn laughed again at the rebuke, and Pippin blushed. Grinning sheepishly, he trailed after Merry and the king.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Well, well, look at that, Brom! Someone got the better of Teague for once, instead of the other way round,” a voice scoffed from behind his dark-haired companion as the latter their dead cohort.
“And his wolves,” said another as he emerged from the tree shadows and knelt beside Teague’s body. “Weren’t no hobbits that did all this.”
“You got that right, Parlan. He must ‘ave spotted some nice looking prey leaving Bree and then had the tables turned on ‘im,” Brom concluded. Rising to his feet, he moved a short-distance, crouched low and closely examine the surrounding ground.
“What it is got your attention?” Parlan asked.
“Looks like ‘e gave almost as good as ‘e got,” Brom answered. There’s a fair amount of blood over ‘ere. Don’t think its Teague’s; looks like ‘e went down and stayed where ‘e fell. There aren’t any wolf-prints either, so it weren’t one of them doing the bleeding.”
“Left us some fair game to catch then, did he?” said the third companion.
“Appears ‘e did indeed, Gair,” Brom replied, grinning malevolently. “Come, boys, we got us some easy prey to catch and a nice blood trail to lead us right to it.”
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Post by Gwenneth on Mar 25, 2005 11:40:27 GMT -5
The smell of roasted chicken wafted through the air and Legolas, whose stomache chose that moment to remind him of his hunger, groaned angrily that he was not seeking said chicken.
Forcing his eyes open was a chore as it felt like his eyelids were made of steel and weighed as much. But he finally did and found himself resettled in the Hobbit-sized bed, legs off the end. One thing was different this time, however, his legs had been propped up on a chair with a pillow carefully laid beneath them.
With a small smile, he realized someone must have thought to lengthen the bed. Pushing up with any strength he could muster, Legolas levered himself into a sitting position, his injuries and sore muscles shrieking with pain at his movement.
Grimacing, he realized this wasn't going to be an easy task. He eyed the doorway, and more specifically its height, seeing he would need to duck to get through.
Of all the things I have to do, ducking is going to be the worst if I remember correctly from my last forray out... he muttered, gently fingering the bandages on his torso. Well, here goes nothing...
Standing, he teetered a bit, steadying himself on...the ceiling no less, and moved gingerly toward the smell of the roasted chicken. He could hear the banter of Merry and Pippin and the occasional laugh of Aragorn.
But at the bidding of his stomache, he continued to move. The first thing he heard directed to him was..."LEGOLAS!"
He laughed at the exasperated tone in his friend's voice.
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Wind whipped in Brom's hair as he stooped to study an imprint in the ground, barely visible to someone who didn't know what they were looking for.
"Look's like we 'ave two of 'em," he remarked lightly. "An' these 'ere tracks look like them meddlin' Hobbit-folk."
He pointed at the imprints he was studying. Gair and Parlan knelt beside him, neither one of them the best of trackers, and waited for an explanation.
Brom, fingering the dried blood on the ground, smiled wickedly. "Ole' Teague really did a number on one of these 'ere normal size folk. Looks like the wounded one was laid here and bled out a bit." He raised his browned fingers to prove the point.
Parlan sniffed at the air. Then, the ground. He had a trackers nose, even if his eyes couldn't always keep up with him.
"This ain't too old, Brom. It's brown already, but it ain't too old. Prolly about a few days tops. It still 'as that stench to it."
Brom looked up. He hadn't noticed a "stench". But he knew his companion was good with scents. "What 'stench' are ye talkin' about, Parlan?"
The man wrinkled his nose. "Elf stench."
"Elf..." Brom's eyes furrowed. "Well now, ain't that a prize. No wonder Teague went after 'em. 'E musta thought that Elf knew where it was."
"Yeh...ya think 'e does?"
Brom didn't answer. Instead, he leaned forward and tried to detect this elusive 'stench' to assure himself of their good fortune.
He picked it up then, the sickly sweet aroma. Elf blood smelt different than Human. And this was definitely Elven blood.
"Brom? Do ya think 'e does?"
With glistening eyes, Brom stood and moved off. "Ya know...who better than to know the whereabouts of an Elf-made treasure...than an ELf. If'n e's alive still, I reckon he might just know. C'mon!"
They quickened their pace toward the Hobbit town in the quickly approaching distance. They had already searched many Hobbit homes and even a few of the little folk themselves.
The men had been tipped off that the thing they sought was in the possession of a Hobbit. Yet the fact it was of Elvish make steeled within Brom the notion that the whereabouts of this wounded Elf would be his next port of call.
And the Elf blood trail was leading them right to Crickhollow.
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Post by Deana on Mar 25, 2005 22:27:10 GMT -5
"What are you doing?" Aragorn exclaimed, rushing over to help his friend before he passed out again.
Legolas shot him a ruefull grin. "I smelled chicken."
Pippin jumped up from his chair and ran to the elf, taking his good hand. "Good thing you woke! Now you get to eat it while it's good and hot!"
Legolas smiled, letting them lead him to a chair. He felt incredibly weak, and hoped that the food would remedy that somewhat.
Merry put some of the chicken on a plate along with bread and some vegetables. He sat it at the seat beside Aragorn's, and Legolas smiled with thanks.
"That smells delicious, Merry," he said.
Merry smiled. "Thanks, but Pippin cooked it!"
"Chicken is my favorite," said Pippin, as Aragorn sat the elf in the chair. "Chicken and mushrooms!"
Legolas smiled again, wondering if the hobbits had ever noticed that he never ate mushrooms.
Aragorn reached for the elf's plate and started cutting the chicken for him, since Legolas had only one hand to eat with.
"Quick, Aragorn!" said Pippin. "He looks starving!"
Legolas chuckled, wondering what the hobbit saw in his face to give that fact away.
Aragorn smiled and pushed the plate back in front of Legolas. They all watched him as he used his left hand to pick up the fork.
"Oy," said Merry. "That's one thing I can't master. Eating with the wrong hand."
"It is not so difficult," said Legolas, picking up a piece of chicken and swirling it in the gravy.
Pippin's smile widened when Legolas ate it and made a sound of pleasure.
"I am impressed, Pippin," said the hungry elf, who had to literally force himself not to wolf the food down. "It is amazingly good."
"Thanks!" said the hobbit, blushing.
Legolas tried the potatoes next, already starting to feel better.
"How do you feel?" Aragorn asked, as if knowing his thoughts.
"I am fine," Legolas told him. "Especially thanks to this wonderful supper."
Pippin blushed again, and, seeing that Legolas had already finished his chicken, grabbed the dish and brought it over to the elf. "Have another," he said, putting one on the elf's plate. "You are too thin and need to get some strength!"
Legolas smiled and didn't protest, to the hobbit's delight.
Once everyone was finished eating, they all assembled in the sitting room. Aragorn and Legolas sat on the hobbit-sized couch, with Merry and Pippin chuckling at the sight.
"You are an excellent cook, Pippin," said Aragorn.
"I'm so glad that you enjoyed it," the hobbit answered, overjoyed at the compliments.
For the next hour, the hobbits told Legolas and Aragorn everything and anything that they thought of. Legolas had tried to maintain his part in the conversation, but he was growing more and more tired. He didn't even notice when his body slouched against Aragorn.
Aragorn noticed, and he had a feeling that he would be carrying his friend to bed once again. "Legolas?" he said.
The elf made no reply, contentedly sleeping on his friend's shoulder.
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Post by Joee on Mar 27, 2005 19:10:26 GMT -5
The hobbits sat talking merrily into the night until Aragorn, who was feeling very tired, which was not surprising given what he and Legolas had been through the last couple days, insisted that he had to get to sleep. He resisted the temptation to just close his eyes and fall asleep on the couch surrounded by his best friends. No, Legolas needed to get back to bed.
Groggily he pushed himself off of the couch and picked up the sleeping elf. Legolas stirred in his arms, but sensing the familiar presence, just rested his head against the king's chest and went back to sleep.
Aragorn moved quietly through the house and carefully deposited his precious burden back onto the bed. He glanced at a small coil of rope lying in one of the many piles on the floor and briefly contemplated using it to keep Legolas form getting out of bed again, but thought better of it. Knowing his luck, the elf would somehow find his way out of the bindings and Aragorn himself would wake up tied.
With one last look at the elf, he went to go lay back on the couch but thought better of it. Legolas may need to lay in a bed due to his injuries, but there was no reason why he had to look as ridiculous on the small couch. Instead, he went and grabbed the blankets that Merry and Pippin had left out for him and made himself a bed on the floor beside the sleeping elf. It wasn't long after his head hit the pillow that he was out for the night.
While everyone inside the house was peacefully resting, ouside, others were up to no good. Brom and his companions had managed to track the trail of blood to the small house and were now kneeling behind some bushes. Gair, always the impulsive one, had had enough of the waiting and immediately started towards the back door, intending to kick it in and find their prize, but Brom quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.
"Whacha do that for? We know where they is, lets go get 'em," said Gair.
"No, not yet. Listen, we know there's four of 'em, but there might be more. You go rushin' in there and you could end up just like Teague. We need to be careful. We need a plan."
As quiet as could be, the three men began to circle the house. Brom had instructed the other two to just observe and not to make any move yet. Between the three of them they managed to peer in all the windows in no time had discerned that there were, in fact, only four of them, that two were hobbits, one a man, and one, the injured elf. All the men figured that none of them should pose much of a problem.
The three men regrouped in the garden behind the house and began to whisper about the best way to get the treasure that they thought of as rightfully theirs.
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Post by Shadowfax on Mar 30, 2005 0:58:59 GMT -5
Aragorn bolted awake from his sleep and sat up as a loud crash was heard from the kitchen and the sound of shattering glass falling to the ground. He quickly threw the blankets from him and observed his surroundings. The ranger was surprised that Legolas was still asleep beside him on the bed. He quickly stood up as far as the roof of the hobbit hole would let him and moved silently toward the small room door.
As he got closer he could hear the voices of the men and things being moved throughout the kitchen.
"its gotta be around ere’ somewhere!" Loud clangs and the slams of cabinet doors were heard as one of the men ransacked through the small kitchen.
"Im gonna go find that elf!" Yelled another.
Aragorn heart skipped a beat. Did they mean Legolas? Why would they want him? He shook his head and head another loud crash of glass from behind him. The Ranger glanced back into the room, only to come face to face with a pair of unfamiliar eyes.
Aragorn jumped back instinctively at the new threat, only to run into someone else behind him. Another man grabbed his arms and held them behind his back.
Aragorn responded to the action and stood up quickly, knocking the mans head into the doorway of the short roof above.
He turned himself loose of the grasp and turned back only to find Legolas being held captive of the first man he saw; one arm around the elf’s neck holding a small dagger to the throat, and the other holding Legolas’ arms behind his back.
The man sneered. "Tell us where it is, or I will finish Teague’s job and kill ‘em!"
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Post by Gwenneth on Apr 2, 2005 15:39:04 GMT -5
Legolas locked pained and uncertain eyes with Aragorn. By unmercilessly pulling the Elf's arms behind his back, the man were putting a lot of torque on his wounds and the Elf was barely able to prevent himself from crying out.
Seeing that he had no choice as the Hobbits were dragged into view by a particularly large man who had both of them by the back of their shirts, Aragorn let his hands raise in surrender and his shoulders slump in defeat.
"What do you seek from these Hobbits?" Aragorn asked, figuring that perhaps getting the men to talk would give him time to devise an escape.
The man holding the blade to Legolas' throat, apparently the leader, smiled. "We's lookin' for an Elf treasure and we has word that it's somewhere in this wee folk village."
An Elf treasure? Legolas thought to himself, battling against the rapidly darkening periphery of his vision. "What Elf treasure? And why do you think it here?" He asked aloud.
Brom eased the knife a bit and Legolas slumped down to settle on the ground on knees. The man kept the knife at his neck, however.
"Fancy an Elf askin' that," he grumbled. "Bet you already know where it is." But seeing the look in the eyes of their captives, something told Brom they didn't.
Huffing, he explained. "See we was with Teague, the man you two killed in the forest. We was checkin' each Hobbit town to find the treasure...this was the last one on our list, so to speak. And seein' as you and this Elf here were near it, we figure we'll find that treasure here."
Aragorn, his hands still raised, eyed the man Parlan who was holding the Hobbits. Merry and Pippin were strangely docile. As if they were planning something.
The man chose to ignore it. He was curious about this treasure. "So just what are you looking for?"
Brom glanced at Aragorn and held his gaze. "A ring. A most powerful one. And we know an Elf has it. We heard a man in Bree speak of it."
"A ring?" Merry laughed. "We have no such precious treasure here. We are mere Hobbits, food and drink are our treasures."
The man holding them gripped Merry tighter and the Hobbit stopped speaking. Legolas chimed in now, his voice dangerously weak.
"Elves make many rings, for they are great at forging the most precious of metals into the most beautiful shapes. Seeking an Elvish ring requires no killing, for there are many about."
Brom laughed. "Oh no, Elf. We seek a special one. One that controls things."
"Controls things?" Aragorn prompted, growing more and more worried. What did these men know or think they knew?
Gair jumped into the conversation. "We heard tell that Elves can control life. Can make themselves live as long as they want. They can heal themselves in no time. We want this power too and we will find the ring that does it!"
Aragorn sighed in relief to cover up the laugh that threatened to escape him. The men couldn't be serious? Legolas seemed of a like mind.
"You think it magic that we live long and heal well?"
Brom nodded. "If not magic, than what? You are physically no different than us, 'cept those ears o' course."
This time Legolas couldn't hold in the chuckle. "You are quite mistaken, Sir. Elves are born immortal. We are not destined to die, unless killed by mortal hand or poison. It is no magic that gives us long life."
Aragorn joined in breaking the news to the men. "Nor is their healing ability controlled by this 'magic ring' you diligently seek."
Brom caught on, but was incredulous. "You mean that Elves live forever with no help from magic? That they heal quick with no help?"
He directed this at Legolas. The Elf nodded carefully. "It is true, edan."
Gair, Parlan and Brom looked at each other uneasily. They half believed the Elf and Man, but didn't really want to. If what they said was true than all their work and searching had been for naught.
"All right then," Brom said suddenly. "Prove it."
Now the Man and Elf were at a loss. How does one prove that an Elf is immortal or that they heal quickly? Looking at each other, neither Aragorn nor Legolas ventured an answer.
Brom suddenly smiled and it was a smile that Aragorn did not trust, nor like. "I know a way."
He turned Legolas around, his grin ever widening, and raised his blade in front of the Elf. It flashed forward and Legolas flinched ever so gently.
"NO!" Aragorn shouted, struggling in his captors grip. Brom looked up at him as he moved aside the tunic on Legolas' shoulder where he had trust his blade.
"We shall see if this Elf heals quickly. Then we will know if you tell the truth."
Legolas, however, was not to hear this conversation as he pitched forward, nearly knocking Brom to the ground.
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Post by Deana on Apr 2, 2005 23:46:40 GMT -5
Brom stumbled back and let Legolas fall. Using his boot, he carelessly kicked the elf onto his back.
The hobbits gasped with shock and worry, and Aragorn struggled to get free.
"Stop it!" said the man who was restraining him. "Stay still and watch the show!"
Aragorn shook his head. "The only thing that we will watch is his death! He suffered serious wounds in our altercation with Teague; he nearly died from blood loss! He has had hardly any time to recover any substantial blood volume! Please let me help him, or you will not have the chance to see that we tell the truth!"
Brom stared at Aragorn, surprised to see that the elf may not have been lying after all. "Fine," he said. "Let him do it."
Aragorn was released, and he fell to his knees beside his friend, immediately checking for a pulse on the pale neck. "Legolas?" he called. "Are you awake, mellon-nin?"
The elf made no reply, but his eyes fluttered slightly.
Aragorn sighed as he quickly applied pressure to the wound. "I need someone to fetch me supplies," he said. "Let the hobbits help me."
Brom nodded, and the hobbits retrieved Aragorn's healing pack and a bowl of water.
Aragorn quickly took out a needle, relieved that Brom was uncommonly left-handed. Legolas' right arm had received numerous injuries in the past day, but if Brom had been right-handed, he would have stabbed the elf's left shoulder, rendering both of Legolas' arms wounded.
The humans watched as Aragorn stitched the elf's injury. He moved to pick Legolas up, but Brom threw out his arm to stop him.
"I only mean to put him on the bed," said Aragorn.
"Fine," said Brom. "If what you say is true, how long will it be before the wound heals?"
Aragorn sighed as he lifted Legolas and laid him on the soft mattress. "It's will not change before your very eyes," he said. "But there is proof that we could have showed you without inflicting this new injury!"
With that, Aragorn gently sat Legolas up and motioned for the hobbits to come closer. "Hold him up please."
The hobbits obeyed, throwing distressed looks at the unconscious elf.
Aragorn pulled Legolas' tunic away from the back of his right shoulder. "He received these from the wolves yesterday."
The men walked closer, surprised at what they saw. There were scratches on the elf's skin that were scabbed over as if they'd happened days prior.
"Elves are really born immortal?" one of the men said.
"This is not proof enough," said Brom, though he sounded unsure. "Those scratches may have been minor; we did not see them when they were inflicted."
Aragorn laid Legolas back down. He didn't bother showing the men the other injuries that the elf had sustained, for they were much more serious and wouldn't show much evidence of healing yet. Sighing, he looked at Brom and his men, wondering if they would get out of the hobbit's house alive.
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