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Post by Karri on Apr 25, 2005 20:11:52 GMT -5
Aragorn held his gaze steadily, despite the intensity of Brom’s withering stare. Thus, it was Brom who flinched first. Turning abruptly toward the door, he waved an imperious hand at his companions and muttered, “I’m ‘ungry. Let‘s ‘ave a look at what these ‘obbits got stashed in their pantries while we are waiting for the elf to heal some.”
Gair and Parlan grinned in approval of the plan, turning also toward the door. The gang had not missed any meals and so were not starving, but they had been lurking about hobbit holes long enough to know that hobbits kept their pantries well-stocked with the best fare, and weren’t about to miss an opportunity to sample some of it.
So caught up were they in visions of smokes ham and seed cakes that neither Parlan nor Gair noticed hobbits moving slyly away the bedside until they stepped toward the door, and the two hobbits threw themselves before the men’s feet. Both Men tripped and tumbled onto the floor in a tangled heap.
Merry and Pippin jumped up, ignoring the bruises left by the men’s heavy boots, and threw themselves atop Parlan, the smaller of the two men, while Aragorn tackled Gair. A voice in the back of the king’s mind screamed at him to watch his back, as Brom would surely be on it any moment, but Gair proved too much of a handful for Aragorn to spare the attention, until an unexpected voice barked, “Daro!”
Though neither understood the word, both of the strange men understood the tone and, looking up, abruptly ceased their struggles. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Aragorn pinned Gair to the floor, while the hobbits did the same with Parlan. Pippin sat on the man’s shoulder, pinning his arms beneath him, while Merry sat on the man’s feet so that he could not kick. The king and the hobbits glanced up then and all three mouths gaped at the sight Brom standing stock-still, his own knife pressed tightly to his throat by a surprisingly steady elvish hand.
“Pippin, do you think reach that rope there without losing your seat?” Legolas asked Pippin in steely voice that well-matched the cold glint in his eyes. Pippin nodded bemusedly and snagged the rope Aragorn had earlier considered using to tie Legolas to the bed.
‘I am glad I thought better of it,’ Aragorn mused, catching the rope as Pippin kicked it toward him. Swiftly, he bound Gair’s hands and feet and then dragged the disgruntled fellow over his companion, where Aragorn used the remaining rope to bind Parlan’s hands, fastening them to Gair’s for good measure. There was not enough left to also bind the man’s feet, but Aragorn was unconcerned. Gair was no lightweight, and Parlan would not find it an easy task should he try anything while forced to drag his companion along behind him.
Confident the pair were in no position to get up to mischief, Aragorn nodded to the hobbits to keep and eye on them, while he rose to Legolas’s aid. How the elf was managing to stand so steadily Aragorn could not guess, but he had no intention of counting on Legolas to keep it up for long, the elf was simply to weak still. Legolas nodded as Aragorn approached and shifted enough to allow the king to grab Brom’s left arm and twisted it cruelly behind the man’s back, relieving Legolas of his burden.
“Pippin, have you any more rope handy?” Aragorn asked, and Pippin nodded, while Merry shuffled around amongst the clutter for a minute, before popping up with rope in hand.
“Here you, Strider,” said the hobbit. “It some of that fine Lorien rope, too.”
Aragorn smiled wryly as he took the rope and hastily bound Brom’s hand and feet. There was a good length left over when he had finished the task, and with it Aragorn bound Parlan’s to Brom’s, leaving the hapless trio in quite the fix. Aragorn glanced then back toward Legolas, expecting to find the elf collapsed on the bed from all the exertion, but he found nothing of the sort.
Instead, he found Legolas kneeling coolly on one knee in front of trio of bound prisoners. On his other bent leg rested Legolas’s right forearm, palm upward. Aragorn tilted his head wonderingly, even a sick feeling of foreboding shivered through his stomach. ‘What are you up, Legolas?’ he thought with no little concern.
“You wish for proof, do you?” asked Legolas coolly. “Then you shall have it and then comprehend fully the depth of your idiocy, foolish Engwa.”
“Legolas!” Aragorn hissed, as Legolas lifted Brom’s knife and pressed the tip to his resting forearm, but the elf paid him no mind.
Moving the knife in a slowly, Legolas cut a straight shallow line of about two inches and held his arm out to better show the men, all of whose eyes were wide with fear and astonishment. He then pulled loose a piece of one of his many bandages and wiped away the blood trickling from the slight wound, so that the trio could see it well up again from the cut. The men swallowed hard, their eyes fixed on the injury.
Resting the arm on his bent leg, once more, Legolas closed his eyes and sang softly to himself, while Aragorn frowned at the elf, a swirling mix of rage and fear in his eyes. He knew what Legolas was doing. He focusing his fea and using it to knit together the shallow cut. It was a trick all elves could pull, though few bothered, for it was a draining process. Hence, it could not be used to heal serious wounds, for the elf would weaken himself to the point of death anyway, and for minor injuries, such as Legolas was now healing, it weakened an elf pointlessly, leaving him vulnerable to more serious harm. In Legolas’s current state, Aragorn knew the elf had not the strength to spare for this bit of elvish magic, but he understood also that there was little he could do to stop his friend.
An excruciatingly slow minute passed before the elf stopped singing and opened his eyes. He wobbled slightly, but held out his arm and again wiped away the blood, revealing flawlessly smooth, milky skin where had the cut had been. The men’s eyes, already wide, grew larger with awe and comprehension sank in, and Legolas smirked wearily. Then his eyes rolled back in head. Expecting it, Aragorn was already in motion and caught the elf as he crumpled.
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Post by Joee on Apr 29, 2005 12:16:05 GMT -5
Aragorn picked up the elf and walked out of the room, not wanting to leave his friend unconscious in the same room as those men. He walked through the small house to the couch where he carefully laid his burden down. “Legolas,” he said as he gently shook the elf. “Mellon nin, can you here me?”
There was no response, not that Aragorn had actually expected one. No doubt Legolas would be in a deep sleep for the next several hours. Aragorn sighed and stood up. Now they would have to decide what to do with their prisoners.
He left Legolas sleeping and went back to the bedroom where he found Pippin, who had changed into his old citadel guard uniform, pacing back and forth in front of their captives. Merry, who had disappeared, could be heard rummaging around in the kitchen.
Aragorn went and dragged Merry away from the food and called Pippin over to him. “We need to discuss what is to be done with these three,” he said indicating the sullen looking men, who were still within sight.
“We cannot just let them go!” exclaimed Merry at once. He had already noticed the men eyeing their valuable possessions and knew immediately if they were to let these three off, it would not be the last they saw of them.
“Fear not Merry, I agree that we cannot just simply free them. No doubt that they would enact vengeance on us if we were to do that. Men like this can rarely be reformed.”
“Then what do we do Strider?” asked Pippin, falling back on the old nickname. “I would not feel right in killing them.”
“No, nor would I. What we need to do is turn them over to some sort of authority,” mused the ranger, as a thought suddenly struck him. “My royal guards are staying in Bree. We need to get word to them that help is needed here.”
“But who would go?” inquired Pippin.
“I fear it must be one of you. I do not want these men to only have on guard, so both of you leaving is not wise, however, Legolas may need medical attention, so I should stay so that I am on hand to give it to him if need be,” said Aragorn. What he didn’t say, however, was that while he had the utmost trust in Merry and Pippin he feared that they would not be able to handle the situation if one, or Eru forbid, all of these men got loose.
Merry and Pippin began to whisper together, and after much talking and gesturing, Pippin spoke up. “As one of your royal guards, I shall stand by your side, while my faithful companion here, will go seek help.”
Aragorn nodded at the choice and began to help Merry pack a small bag. “Take your pony and head out using the main road. You will not have much cover to hide yourself from watching eyes, if there are any, but I think at this point it is better than going through the Old Forest. While Sauron may have been destroyed and the eveil lessened, there are still dangerous things about, such as predatory animal, disgruntled trees, and evil, in the form of men like this.”
Merry nodded, and began to head to where his pony was currently being kept. “Stay safe Merry,” said Aragorn as he watched the hobbit leave.
“And hurry back!” called Pippin.
Meanwhile, unknown to the small group of friends, the men were hatching a plan. They had heard the conversation and now wondered about the strange ranger in their company. Who could this man be that he would have royal guards? Whoever he was, they were not planning on remaining in his custody long enough to meet said guards, and were now quietly trying to figure out a way to get free.
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Post by Shadowfax on May 23, 2005 20:38:04 GMT -5
Merry nudged his pony forward once again. The day was slowly waning and he wasn’t making as take cover and the ground became very muddy, delaying his travel toward Bree.
‘Why does it have to rain now?’ Merry asked himself as he looked up toward the sky. The world around him slowly became very dark. The swishing of the trees and the flight of a bird startled the hobbit as he walked his pony over the many roots and rocks
He Traveled as fast as he could manage, the rain finally slowed down and he remembered legolas and Aragorn. The thought of them tugged at the back of his mind and he quickened his pace as he saw the dim lights through the fog, leading him toward the gates of Bree.
Merry finally arrived at the gates just as the clouds flew from the sight of the moon. He knocked nerviously. The last time he was here was with Frodo, Sam and Pippin. Being by himself in a town like this was not at all comforting.
Men taller and a lot bigger looked down upon him, or just ignored him like he wasn’t there as he entered the Prancing Pony; the inn Aragorn had mentioned that his guards were staying right before he left from Crickhollow. The strong smell of ale filled the air mixed with the rough, deep voices of the men that were talking and drinking.
The hobbit ignored the raised eyebrows and curious remarks of the men around him and was about to ask the front counter, when he spotted three men in the corner of the room, at the exact place Aragorn once sat, when the four hobbits first met the ranger, those many years ago.
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Post by Gwenneth on May 27, 2005 18:09:54 GMT -5
"Brom? We 'ave ta get outta 'ere before those royal guards show up!"
Gair tugged at his restraints and sent an angry glare toward Pippin, who was carefully watching the men out of the corner of his eye as he buttered a piece of bread.
"Aye. I'm thinkin' you nit. Ain't an easy situation ta get outta," Brom replied as he looked toward the room the Ranger and Elf were in. "But I reckon I might 'ave an idea."
He looked back up to Pippin. "Hey you, Master 'obbit? You don't think we could 'ave a bite to eat, do ya? We ain't 'ad anythin' for a while now and we feel awful 'ungry."
Pippin, despite his intense dislike for these men, had heard the audible groan of their hungry stomaches and he knew all too well how terrible it felt to be hungry.
But he feared a plot and decided not to make any decisions on his own. "Strider!" he called out, waiting until the Ranger poked his head out of the room where he was tending their friend. "They're hungry."
Frowning, Aragorn exited the room, pulling the door gently closed behind him. He approached until he was a few feet from the three men.
"Hungry, eh? You wouldn't be hoping for us to loosen those bonds enough for you to eat, would you? I mean, honestly, what do you take me for? A bloody fool?"
He turned to Pippin. "They'll live until I figure a way to safely feed them, Pip. If it makes you feel better, you can tend Legolas for a while and eat in there."
THe Hobbit nodded and jumped from the chair he'd been perched on. He carried his food past the men, whose glares turned sharper as the tantalizing aroma reached them.
"Tha's not fair, Ranger! We ain't eaten in ages! Can't ya just spare a small bite? Or some water?" Brom was laying it on thick now.
But he didn't know who he was up against. Aragorn had gone days without food, he knew that these men were no where near starving to death. They could wait.
"No," was his resounding, and rather final, answer.
Brom growled and tugged on his bonds. "You'll regret this you mangy Elf-lover! I'll get ya if it's the las' thing I do!"
Aragorn simply sighed and sat down to guard them.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Pippin shifted his legs again. He was curious, as usual. He had always admired Legolas' weapons, he'd always had an intense desire to examine them closely.
The daggers were taunting him on the nearby table. Their bright blades, glistening in the flickering light of the lamp beside them.
"Just a quick look..." he muttered, hurrying over as quietly as he could. "Can't hurt..."
Reaching up onto the table, he grabbed the ivory hilt of one blade and pulled it from its sheath. It came out with a soft hiss and the Hobbit adjusted his grip to compensate for the weight of the blade.
He studied the knife carefully, enthralled by the beautiful craftmanship and the perfect curve of the blade. "What I wouldn't give for a blade such as this!" He intoned quietly.
"Perhaps one day you shall have one, Pippin..." called a weak voice from behind the Hobbit.
Pippin, not expecting that, jumped and felt the sharp blade cut into his hand. He yelped and nearly dropped the knife, but was surprised when a pale hand shot out and caught it neatly.
Legolas resheathed it quickly and took Pippin's bleeding hand into his own. "Those are dangerous weapons, Pip. I know you could likely handle a blade such as that, but only if it were made for you."
The Hobbit swallowed, blushing slightly at being caught and then cutting himself in the Elf's presence. He felt rather like a small child, gently scolded for touching something heshouldn't have.
Before he knew it, Legolas had wrapped his hand in a strip of cloth and was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of him.
"I'll tell you about the blades, if you like," he said quietly.
Pippin's eyes widened. A story! LEgolas was willingly offering to tell him about himself. This was a rare occassion indeed!
Wasting no time, Pippin sat on the floor with the Elf and waited impatiently for the tale.
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Post by Deana on Jun 25, 2005 19:53:17 GMT -5
Legolas took a deep breath, inwardly telling his scattered pains to begone. The reason he chose to tell the hobbit this story so suddenly was to keep himself awake; when he'd regained consciousness, he knew that he couldn't let himself slip away again, lest Aragorn suddenly require his help with the prisoners.
"When I was training to be a warrior," said Legolas. "I chose the bow as my weapon. I'd had a child's version of one when I was very young, and played with it nearly every day. Therefore, when I joined the archery class, I learned very quickly."
Pippin nodded, listening eagerly.
"When my instructor saw how skilled I was with the weapon," said Legolas. "He then told me that I needed to chose another."
"Another bow?" asked Pippin.
Legolas smiled. "No, another weapon, for when the bow is not useful."
"Ah," said Pippin.
"I tried the sword first," said Legolas. "But I did not like using both hands to wield it. It made more sense to me to have a weapon in both hands."
Pippin nodded, amazed at the logic in the statement.
"So I chose to train with two knives," Legolas said. "I tried them one day in class, and informed my instructor of my decision. The next day, I woke to find my father standing over my bed." He smiled, thinking back on the memory.
"Ada?" Legolas said, slightly startled at his father's sudden presense. "Is something wrong?"
King Thranduil shook his head, sitting on the side of the bed. "No, my son, I simply wished to speak to you before you leave for your training."
Legolas nodded and sat up.
"Your instructor told me yesterday that you chose knives as a secondary weapon," Thranduil said.
Legolas nodded. "Aye, I did."
Thranduil smiled. "Well then, I have something for you."
Legolas watched as his father pulled a wooden box out from behind his back. Thranduil handed it to him, and watched as Legolas opened it.
Legolas' eyebrows shot up at the sight of twin ivory-handled knives. "Oh Ada," he said. "Where did you get them?"
"They belonged to my father," said Thranduil. "And his father before him."
Legolas' mouth nearly dropped open.
"They were passed down from father to son at their deaths," said Thranduil. "But since you have chosen them as a weapon--which I have not--it is only fitting that you have them now."
Legolas smiled at him, looking back at the knives again. They were beautiful, and he reached out to hug his father. "Thank you, ada. I shall treasure them for the rest of my days."
Thranduil smiled, returning the hug.
"Aw!" said Pippin. "What a story! That is wonderful, Legolas."
Legolas smiled at the hobbit. "Aye, indeed it is."
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Post by Joee on Jun 26, 2005 16:23:08 GMT -5
“So these knives,” said Pippin as he reached for one again, then, thinking better of it, retracted his hand, “must be really old.”
Immediately Pippin felt foolish for the statement. Of course they were really old, he would have considered something passed down from his great-grandfather old, but to imagine something passed down by an elf…
Legolas seemed to notice Pippin’s slight embarrassment and chuckled softly. “Yes Pip, they are really, really, old.”
Legolas reached over and pulled one of the knives out of the sheath. He handed it to Pippin to admire some more. “Careful this time,” he admonished.
Pippin traced his finger over the delicate carvings in the handle while he admired the overall beauty of the weapon. After a while he looked up. “Legolas,” he said, looking into the elf’s sharp blue eyes. “What is it like to live forever?”
Legolas stared at the smaller being, not saying anything, just contemplating the odd question. He stayed like that for so long the Pippin feared he would not answer. Then finally, he spoke. “It is not such an easy question you ask young Took, and I find it difficult to answer. I suppose it would be the equivalent of me asking you what it is like to live as a mortal. But my guess is that you are wondering not what it is like to live forever, but rather, what it is like knowing that you will not die of old age.”
Pippin paused for a moment then nodded. “Yes, I suppose that is what I mean. I sometimes wonder what it would be like knowing that you or no one you knew ever had to die.”
“You seem to forget, Pippin, that elves can die. By poison or by blade, some elves do leave this world and travel to the Halls of Mandos. And that, I think is where they pain of immortality lies. Knowing that you will not see your loved ones again until their fea is released, and that can be a long, long, time, even for an elf.”
Legolas sighed as one again, the image of his mother passed through his mind. However, determined not to return to his previous melancholy state, he quickly continued. “Do not be too quick in deciding you want to be an immortal. For although it is true we do have plenty of time for merry making and to enjoy the beauty of Arda, I noticed that mortals, such as yourself, and Aragorn, although you lead short lives, they are filled with such passion that I fear I will never be able to match. Do not be too hasty to give up the gift of mortality.”
Figuring it was time to change the subject all together before both of them became depressed, Legolas beckoned Pippin closer to him. “Come, help me up, I wish to get see Aragorn.”
Pippin carefully helped Legolas to his feet. “Are you sure that is wise? I think you should lie down and get a bit more rest.” Pippin really did this his friend was too pale, but also, he was enjoying their time together and was loathed to see it end.
“Nonsense, I am perfectly fine,” insisted the stubborn elf. “Now, where is Aragorn?”
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Post by Karri on Oct 4, 2005 20:29:10 GMT -5
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Falda glanced up from his pint as a curious hum suddenly flowed through the room. His eyebrow rose, startled, as his gaze landed on a face he well remembered from the War. Falda frowned. His liege has set off to visit the youngster just a few days ago… ‘What is the hobbit doing here in Bree…’ he glanced hastily around, alarm rising up his spine. ‘… alone.’
As young hobbits searching gaze landed on his party, Falda waved him over, bringing his companions eyes up from their meals to curiously watch this new arrival approach.
Merry rushed to the table as quickly as the crowded room would allow. Rather breathless from the effort, he quickly scanned the faces of the three men and noticed two of them toss questioning glances at the third before their eye flitted back to Merry. The hobbit decided, therefore, that the third man must be in charge. Fixing determined eyes on the man, Merry declared, “Legolas is dying! You must come with me NOW!”
A flutter of panic tickled Falda’s stomach. He had gotten to know Legolas well since the War. The elf was not an easy being to near enough to harm. If the hobbits words were to be believed, and Falda could think of no reason to doubt him, then something dire and dreadfully had surely befallen their king and his friend.
Turning toward his companions, Falda was pleased to see that Halvard and Randulf were already rising from their seats, their hands on the hilts of the swords. Clearly, they had concluded, as he, that their liege was in urgent need of them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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Post by Deana on Oct 16, 2005 22:12:35 GMT -5
Aragorn stood at the window, wishing that there was a way to make Merry and the Gondorian guards arrive sooner than he knew was possible. He glanced at the tied-up men, ignoring their glares as he walked to the door, wanting to look in on Legolas. To his surprise, he came face-to-face with the elf.
"Legolas! What are you doing up?" he exclaimed, though he was happy to see the elf conscious again.
The Prince gave him a half-smile. "I wanted you to know that I am here should you need me."
Aragorn bit-back a remark about his friend not being in any condition to help, and smiled back instead. "Everything is fine. I sent Merry to retrieve my guards. They should be here soon."
"Ah," said the elf, nodding. "That is good." He looked behind his friend to see the group of humans staring at him quietly. Most of them looked awed, after the amazing feat that Legolas had showed them not very long ago.
"There is no reason for you to stay out here," said Aragorn. "Go back and rest. Pippin and I can handle the situation."
At those words, the small hobbit's eyebrows shot up and he straightened his back, as if trying to appear tall and strong.
Legolas reluctantly nodded, feeling sleep pulling at him even where he stood. "You will call if you need me?"
The human nodded back, turning his friend back towards the couch. "Aye. You do the same."
Legolas obeyed and laid back down, closing his eyes wearily. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep again.
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(sorry it was so uneventful, but I kept falling asleep as I typed! zzzzzzzzzz)
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Post by Joee on Oct 21, 2005 13:43:56 GMT -5
While Brom may not have been the brightest man, he could still sense the anticipation from the ranger. He knew that in a small amount of time, it was likely that those royal guards that had been spoken of would arrive and his time for escape would all be over. Thus, he silently urged Gair to hurry with his ministrations.
The three men had adjusted themselves so that they were sitting with their backs to each other. Aragorn had not stopped this as all three had their hands bound behind their backs and Brom even had his feet tied. However, the ranger had overlooked one of the problems with keeping the captives in a cluttered room, and that was that there was always stuff about. Thus, he didn’t notice when Parlan had found a small pocket knife (small indeed for it was made for a hobbit!), and had begun painstakingly sawing away at Gair’s bonds. Once he was finally through, Gair, being careful to keep up the ruse that he was still tied, returned the favour for Parlan, leaving Brom for last because while he was the leader, he was also the one the ranger kept glancing at the most.
Minutes crept by, then finally, Brom felt the ropes break apart. Now was the tricky part, how was he to get to the rope around his feet without attracting Aragorn’s attention? What he needed, concluded Brom, was a distraction.
“So yer elf friend’s in a lot of pain, eh?” said Brom.
Aragorn turned from where he was looking out the window once again. “That’s none of your business.”
“ ‘E didn’t look so good earlier.”
“He will be fine,” insisted Aragorn, trying to make it clear that this was the end of the subject.
“Really?” asked Brom, ignoring the hint. “Then whys ‘e moanin’?”
“What?” asked Aragorn. He listened hard but couldn’t hear the elf. “You lie.”
“Hey! If there’s one thing I aint, that’s a liar. I swear I heard ‘im monain’ just a moment ago.”
Aragorn glared at the other man before striding to the door. He was just about to leave to check on Legolas when he thought better of it. Standing in the doorway, he called out, “Legolas? Mellon nin, are you all right?”
There was no answer, but quickly enough Pippin’s voice floated into the room. While he couldn’t be seen by the captives, it was obvious that he was just outside the door, blocked from view by Aragorn’s body. “What’s all this yelling about? Of course he’s all right, he’s just sleeping. Why do you ask?”
“So he wasn’t moaning just now?”
“No, he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Strider, are you all right? Are you hearing things? Maybe you should get some rest.”
“It wasn’t me, it was--” Aragorn had turned around to look at his captives when he realised they were no longer sitting bound on the floor, but rather standing menacingly just behind him.
Although Brom would have preferred that the ranger had left the room completely, he wasted no time in using the distraction that they had to free his feet and grab the first weapon he could find, an old walking stick. As soon as the ranger turned around, he swung it at the other man’s head with all his might.
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Post by Karri on Nov 14, 2005 0:32:46 GMT -5
Aragorn managed, only just, to twist out of the path of the stick aimed at his head. Slamming into the sturdy doorframe, the old stick splinter, sending wooden shards flying back into Brom’s face. As he reeled back in surprise, a hobbit war cry issued from the doorway, accompanied by a blur of motion than soon plowed into his stomach. With a startled “Ooomph”, Brom toppled backward, his backside landing the floor with a painful thud.
Muttering a string of curses that would have done a pirate of Umbar proud, Brom scrambled to regain his feet, but he was not quick enough. He promptly felt the considerable weight of Aragorn slam into him. Brom struggled for all he was worth, thinking still that he might be able to get the upper hand, but it was not to be. Before long, the former Ranger had him pinned to the floor with his arms twisted behind him at such an angle that he was effectively immobilized. Letting off another string of vile curses, Brom prayed that his companions had faired better.
That hope blossomed as the pressure holding him down eased up slight. ‘E can’t hold me and fight me lads off at the same time, Brom snickered to himself as he lifted his head off the floor and twisted it around to get a look. The smile fell from his face, though, as he found that his companions had not faired any better after all. One lay face down upon the floor with a hobbit sitting on his back holding a small but plenty sharp dagger to the base of his skull; the other sat huddled in the corner, cowering beneath the wrathful gaze of a pale, yet surprisingly steady elf holding a long, very sharp looking knife.
“Orc dung!” he spat and dropped is head back down in frustration.
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Post by Deana on Nov 29, 2005 0:59:03 GMT -5
"Are you all right, Aragorn?" Legolas asked, having seen the near-miss.
"Aye," Aragorn said, glancing at his friend, wondering how he'd appeared so fast despite his injuries. "Are you?"
Legolas gave a half smile. "Fine."
Aragorn rolled his eyes and hauled Brom to his feet, pushing him roughly to the corner where Legolas stood over Parlan.
Brom had a hard time keeping his feet because of Aragorn's speed, but when they neared the elf, he deliberately lurched to the side, falling into Legolas.
The injured elf was unable to keep his balance and fell, the knife flying from his hand.
Parlan quickly scrambled for it.
"Stop!" Aragorn shouted, dropping to his knees and grabbing Brom roughly, holding his knife to the man's throat. "Stop or he dies!"
Pippin, despite his small, unthreatening body, bravely lurched off Gair's back and grabbed for the knife before Parlan could reach it. "I have it, Aragorn!" he shouted, unnecessarily.
Gair and Parlan both swore. It would've sounded humorous if the situation wasn't so dire.
"Legolas!" said Aragorn, turning to look at the elf. "Are you all right?"
Legolas was sitting himself up, trying to quickly go to Pippin's aid before either of the men thought to attack the tiny hobbit. "Fine, Aragorn," he lied. "Let us bind them again." He took the knives from Pippin and told him to find anything that they could use to tie the men with.
Aragorn said nothing as he watched his friend, able to tell when the elf was lying.
Pippin came back with sheets that they tore into strips before binding the men tightly. This time, they tied the men together and secured them to a post on the other side of the room.
There was no way they'd be able to escape again.
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Post by NN on Aug 15, 2008 2:46:07 GMT -5
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Microsoft Office 2010
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Post by Microsoft Office 2010 on Nov 18, 2010 23:19:24 GMT -5
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Microsoft Office 2010
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Post by Microsoft Office 2010 on Nov 19, 2010 0:35:44 GMT -5
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Post by brandl44 on Jul 25, 2011 2:58:09 GMT -5
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