A/N: Ah, yes, I am back. And no, this is not the fantasy I have been
working on since July. This all just came to me last night, after watching
TTT (don't ask why, seeing as it takes place in the Fellowship). I know
it's short, but if I do another chapter I promise it to be longer. It will
become more of an angsty fic, but for the time being just tell me what you
think. I have tried before to write a LOTR fic, but it got TOTALLY screwed.
Tell me if I have or haven't recovered from the land of patheticness. R&R!
Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR. *sniff * I want it so bad!
"Fly you fools!"
Those three words seemed to echo, resounding in the minds of the eight remaining Fellowship. And they fled, as bid by their fallen friend. Oblivious to the shallow rain of arrows raining past them, they ran, determined to fulfill the wizard's last wish.
At last, they reached the exit, and they halted. Sobs broke the silent air, tears running over the sun dried rock. Filled with rage, Gimli struggled to return to Moria, to avenge Gandalf, only restrained by Boromir's firm arm. Merry comforted Pippin, though he too felt the immense sorrow. Frodo wandered away from the others, and Aragorn called to him, and he returned. A gentle breeze disturbed the land, and the bright sun shone merrily down, blind to the troubles of Middle Earth.
"Legolas, get them up," he called to the golden haired elf. Yet Legolas continued walking, not turning back, or answering Aragorn's call. "Legolas!" The call came firmer.
"Give them a moment, for pities sake!" Boromir protested, the sorrow evident in his voice as well. All were stricken by Gandalf's passing.
"By night these hills will be swarming with orcs! Come now, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli. We must reach the woods of Lothlorien."
Boromir and Gimli saw the reason in Aragorn's words, and went to draw the hobbits from their weeping. Yet Legolas merely turned to Aragorn. His stormy grey eyes glittered, and a single, much unwanted tear ran over a high cheekbone, coming to a stop at the corner of pale lips. Aragorn returned his gaze, the deep anguish set within him revealed only to his elven friend. For Aragorn had been close friends with Gandalf, and as much as he hid it, Legolas saw the pain hidden in his heart.
Aragorn turned, to begin the road to Lothlorien, and the others followed suit. But a soft voice stopped them, and they turned to see Legolas, gazing down at the stone below a cliff. Mournful pools of grey turned to them, pleading them to tell him that this was all a dream.
"He is gone." A scarce nod moved Aragorn's head. "And he fell without aid."
"He did not wish for aid," Aragorn reasoned. "He did not wish for our lives too to be put at risk."
Legolas laughed a crazy, quiet laugh. "At risk? What risk was there, for the Balrog had fallen?"
"The orcs, they would have made to shoot at us." Aragorn was alert, aware of an angry glint in the elf's eye.
"But still, we could have avoided their arrows. I at least could have gone to his aid. I could have dodged the arrows of the orcs." Legolas paused, and turned to stare into Aragorn's eyes, avoiding the other's gazes. "And yet still I stood, like a cold, stone statue. Cold and silent."
"As did we all Legolas. It is not your fault."
"No, Aragorn. It is my fault." Those soft, grey orbs glimmered, and it crushed Aragorn's heart to see his dear friend so sad. "I ran with you all from the Balrog. And when it stood before Gandalf, I too stared in helpless horror. Perhaps the rest of you were helpless, for swords and knives could not have touched the demon." Legolas reached slowly to his quiver, drawing an arrow. He stroked the soft feathers, running his fingers along the shaft. "But an arrow. An arrow, swift and well aimed, could have pierced it. And there it would have ended." He tossed aside the missile. "But it did not, and I failed to protect my friend."
"Nay, Legolas, this is false!" Aragorn stepped forward to the elf, aware of the tears streaming down his friend's face. "An arrow could never have hurt the demon. Naught could have pierced it but magic. None are at fault, my friend."
"You call me your friend." Legolas turned back to face the landscape before him. "And yet, what is a friend if he cannot protect those dear to him? What is a friend, who makes no move to aid? A friend who is a statue."
"Legolas."
"I am undeserving of your friendship, Aragorn. Statues have no hearts."
Here, Aragorn stopped. He stared pleadingly at the grief stricken elf before him, and he felt tears begin to gather in the corner of his eyes. "Nay, Legolas. You are more of a friend that any could ask for. Do not deny yourself, Legolas. Come back to us. You need not suffer alone."
"Would I really be of use to the Fellowship, Aragorn? I cannot protect, I cannot help. I have proved my unworthiness. I can see through your eyes. Each of you loath me, I know it. You each know I easily could have run to grasp Gandalf's hand. So why do you persist? Why do you not just leave me here? You do not wish for me, you do not need me."
The hobbits listened to Legolas banter on. In Moria, they had marveled at his capability with the bow. And now they listened, disbelieving, seeing the grief in the elf's eyes overwhelm all common sense. Even Gimli now felt for the elf. And he did not want him to feel like this.
"Legolas, listen to me." Now Aragorn came to Legolas, and lay his hands on the slender shoulders of the elf. Legolas' tear streaked face rose to greet the pleading eyes of Aragorn. He could hear the suppressed short sobs escaping the elf's lips. "You are and always shall be a valiant elf. You have nothing to feel ashamed of. Now return to us, for we must reach Lothlorien."
Pale hands reached upwards, and removed the rough hands of his friend. "Go without me, for I am no more use here." His hopelessly lost eyes searched Aragorn's, for what could not be guessed. He turned back to the cliff. "I will let you be. I will let all of Middle Earth be, for I shall be looked down upon as incapable of what I am meant to do."
Aragorn suddenly knew what the elf intended. Why did not he see it earlier? "No, Legolas!" he cried in dismay, and reached out to pull back his friend.
But Legolas was out of reach. He stepped forward, and did not look back as his foot set on air, and his body followed the plummet to far below stone.
A/N: Maybe, I'll continue. I'm sorry this first chapter was so short, but I wanted to test my ability with LOTR actually serious fics. What do you think? Should I continue? Does it absolutely stink to smelly hell? Personally, I don't think it's too great, but give me your opinion. This is infact a Legolas angst fic, and will become more serious if I decide to continue. I will love you if you review, for all eternity!
Note to people who really and truly think I would let Legolas die without suffering a bit more: ..Well, you can guess what I'm gonna say, so just forget it.
~Searcher of Souls~
Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR. *sniff * I want it so bad!
"Fly you fools!"
Those three words seemed to echo, resounding in the minds of the eight remaining Fellowship. And they fled, as bid by their fallen friend. Oblivious to the shallow rain of arrows raining past them, they ran, determined to fulfill the wizard's last wish.
At last, they reached the exit, and they halted. Sobs broke the silent air, tears running over the sun dried rock. Filled with rage, Gimli struggled to return to Moria, to avenge Gandalf, only restrained by Boromir's firm arm. Merry comforted Pippin, though he too felt the immense sorrow. Frodo wandered away from the others, and Aragorn called to him, and he returned. A gentle breeze disturbed the land, and the bright sun shone merrily down, blind to the troubles of Middle Earth.
"Legolas, get them up," he called to the golden haired elf. Yet Legolas continued walking, not turning back, or answering Aragorn's call. "Legolas!" The call came firmer.
"Give them a moment, for pities sake!" Boromir protested, the sorrow evident in his voice as well. All were stricken by Gandalf's passing.
"By night these hills will be swarming with orcs! Come now, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli. We must reach the woods of Lothlorien."
Boromir and Gimli saw the reason in Aragorn's words, and went to draw the hobbits from their weeping. Yet Legolas merely turned to Aragorn. His stormy grey eyes glittered, and a single, much unwanted tear ran over a high cheekbone, coming to a stop at the corner of pale lips. Aragorn returned his gaze, the deep anguish set within him revealed only to his elven friend. For Aragorn had been close friends with Gandalf, and as much as he hid it, Legolas saw the pain hidden in his heart.
Aragorn turned, to begin the road to Lothlorien, and the others followed suit. But a soft voice stopped them, and they turned to see Legolas, gazing down at the stone below a cliff. Mournful pools of grey turned to them, pleading them to tell him that this was all a dream.
"He is gone." A scarce nod moved Aragorn's head. "And he fell without aid."
"He did not wish for aid," Aragorn reasoned. "He did not wish for our lives too to be put at risk."
Legolas laughed a crazy, quiet laugh. "At risk? What risk was there, for the Balrog had fallen?"
"The orcs, they would have made to shoot at us." Aragorn was alert, aware of an angry glint in the elf's eye.
"But still, we could have avoided their arrows. I at least could have gone to his aid. I could have dodged the arrows of the orcs." Legolas paused, and turned to stare into Aragorn's eyes, avoiding the other's gazes. "And yet still I stood, like a cold, stone statue. Cold and silent."
"As did we all Legolas. It is not your fault."
"No, Aragorn. It is my fault." Those soft, grey orbs glimmered, and it crushed Aragorn's heart to see his dear friend so sad. "I ran with you all from the Balrog. And when it stood before Gandalf, I too stared in helpless horror. Perhaps the rest of you were helpless, for swords and knives could not have touched the demon." Legolas reached slowly to his quiver, drawing an arrow. He stroked the soft feathers, running his fingers along the shaft. "But an arrow. An arrow, swift and well aimed, could have pierced it. And there it would have ended." He tossed aside the missile. "But it did not, and I failed to protect my friend."
"Nay, Legolas, this is false!" Aragorn stepped forward to the elf, aware of the tears streaming down his friend's face. "An arrow could never have hurt the demon. Naught could have pierced it but magic. None are at fault, my friend."
"You call me your friend." Legolas turned back to face the landscape before him. "And yet, what is a friend if he cannot protect those dear to him? What is a friend, who makes no move to aid? A friend who is a statue."
"Legolas."
"I am undeserving of your friendship, Aragorn. Statues have no hearts."
Here, Aragorn stopped. He stared pleadingly at the grief stricken elf before him, and he felt tears begin to gather in the corner of his eyes. "Nay, Legolas. You are more of a friend that any could ask for. Do not deny yourself, Legolas. Come back to us. You need not suffer alone."
"Would I really be of use to the Fellowship, Aragorn? I cannot protect, I cannot help. I have proved my unworthiness. I can see through your eyes. Each of you loath me, I know it. You each know I easily could have run to grasp Gandalf's hand. So why do you persist? Why do you not just leave me here? You do not wish for me, you do not need me."
The hobbits listened to Legolas banter on. In Moria, they had marveled at his capability with the bow. And now they listened, disbelieving, seeing the grief in the elf's eyes overwhelm all common sense. Even Gimli now felt for the elf. And he did not want him to feel like this.
"Legolas, listen to me." Now Aragorn came to Legolas, and lay his hands on the slender shoulders of the elf. Legolas' tear streaked face rose to greet the pleading eyes of Aragorn. He could hear the suppressed short sobs escaping the elf's lips. "You are and always shall be a valiant elf. You have nothing to feel ashamed of. Now return to us, for we must reach Lothlorien."
Pale hands reached upwards, and removed the rough hands of his friend. "Go without me, for I am no more use here." His hopelessly lost eyes searched Aragorn's, for what could not be guessed. He turned back to the cliff. "I will let you be. I will let all of Middle Earth be, for I shall be looked down upon as incapable of what I am meant to do."
Aragorn suddenly knew what the elf intended. Why did not he see it earlier? "No, Legolas!" he cried in dismay, and reached out to pull back his friend.
But Legolas was out of reach. He stepped forward, and did not look back as his foot set on air, and his body followed the plummet to far below stone.
A/N: Maybe, I'll continue. I'm sorry this first chapter was so short, but I wanted to test my ability with LOTR actually serious fics. What do you think? Should I continue? Does it absolutely stink to smelly hell? Personally, I don't think it's too great, but give me your opinion. This is infact a Legolas angst fic, and will become more serious if I decide to continue. I will love you if you review, for all eternity!
Note to people who really and truly think I would let Legolas die without suffering a bit more: ..Well, you can guess what I'm gonna say, so just forget it.
~Searcher of Souls~