"I could walk but I'll just drive/It's colder than it looks outside" --The
Barenaked Ladies, Pinch Me
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof
Author's note: This story will have a better summary when I know what the plot is. Silly as this sounds, I have only the first few chapters written and no idea what comes next! Don't worry, my mind's not dry yet, by the time I've written what I've planned there will be a plot. Thanks for your understanding in this. . .strange matter.
*****Prologue
"Are you giving up, adan?"
"No, sindar, you confuse me with yourself."
Legolas laughed and redoubled his efforts against his friend. The old Ranger could use it, he thought, not because this was true but because it amused him to think it. Strider did not return the Elf's smile, which suited them both just fine. Years had spun the two together, and so when Strider did not smile Legolas knew that he was smiling within but was not as liberal with his outward emotional appearance. It was much easier not to think of how this had come to be.
The Ranger, for his part, decided it was high time the Elf was given a run for his money and the miles of his mouth. Perhaps, he thought, he would make the Elf chase him. But where to hide? Strider knew better than to attempt to climb a mallyrn. Many weeks, many years past, he had sported the raw palms of one endeavor. Instead, though. . .Strider fought the offensive, switching so abruptly from defensive that he caught Legolas off guard.
"That was good, Estel!" called the Elf, forgetting. Strider continued to press him back, forcing Legolas to be the one who parried, preferring to be strongest in offensive. When it came to orcs, it was not defense that mattered--not for a good fighter. Now that it came to it, though, most orcs were not quite so skilled with a blade. . .
Lothlorien was a good place to spar, for it was safe. After Moria and. . .after Gandalf's fall. . .Strider knew no safer place than the Golden Wood. Strider himself had taken Gandalf's fall quite well. People died, he knew that, and one day he too would die. He had found his peace with this long ago. It was Legolas who found himself shaking, unable to sit still, near tears at times and angry at others. Death was a difficult concept for the immortal. Gandalf. . .it was not supposed to happen. And so Strider kept his friend busy, mending, talking, sparring.
Which is precisely how they had come to be blade-locked at that moment, until Legolas drew away and swung at Strider, who ducked beneath the weapon. It was more like dancing than fighting, the "offensive" fighter leading. With so many twists and twirls, the opponents such close comrades, that it was inconceivable that should be fighting: why not dancing? Both had the grace, one natural and one acquired with time, the concentration.
Suddenly something distracted Legolas, he turned--Strider never meant it. He had not meant to hurt Legolas, but had expected the Elf to block him. "Legolas!" Strider sheathed his sword at once. Legolas turned to the pain in his shoulder and swore quietly, moving to rub the wound clean with his sleeve. "Let me see it," Strider insisted. Legolas obediently lowered himself to a large rock. By now the Halflings had clustered about, asking what was going on and wanting to know if Legolas was all right.
Strider grimaced at the noise as he pulled Legolas's tunic gently away from his shoulder, examining the slash the Ranger knew he was responsible for. "It is not bad," he reported. "Not too deep, nothing important severed." Legolas knew this for a joke, but the hobbits did not and had a worried look to them. Carefully Strider cleaned out the wound, dabbing up the excess blood, and placed a bandage over it. "Be careful with this," Strider said. "The last thing we need is an infection."
"Legolas," Pippin asked, "how did you get that scar?"
Looking to his shoulder, Legolas saw what Pippin meant: semi-circular marks on his left shoulder. The Elf looked to the Ranger, who nodded. "Strider gave them to me," Legolas told Pippin, "many years ago."
"Strider, that wasn't noble!" gasped Pippin who had been learning from Boromir of the ethics of battle and highly doubted that biting someone was completely proper.
Strider looked to the darkening sky, then said, "Allow me a moment to start a fire, Peregrin, and I shall spin you a story such that your views of noble will never be the same." Remembering all the tales his brothers told around their own campfires, Strider felt that it was only tradition to recount this tale.
The commotion had not gone unnoticed, and by the time smoke rose to the high heavens not only Pippin but Merry, Sam, Frodo, Gimli and even Boromir had gathered by the fire. Strider, unprepared for such an audience, looked about for a place to sit. Legolas, behind him, occupied the stump of an unlucky tree, whom lightening had ended shortly. Now Strider folded himself to the ground beside his friend and began, "When I was five and ten years old. . ."
*****
To be continued
Chapters will get longer, that was only the prologue. Let me know what you think! (I'm not saying I won't continue, that's a blatant lie because I will, but it helps me to know what you as the readers want and what you like)
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof
Author's note: This story will have a better summary when I know what the plot is. Silly as this sounds, I have only the first few chapters written and no idea what comes next! Don't worry, my mind's not dry yet, by the time I've written what I've planned there will be a plot. Thanks for your understanding in this. . .strange matter.
*****Prologue
"Are you giving up, adan?"
"No, sindar, you confuse me with yourself."
Legolas laughed and redoubled his efforts against his friend. The old Ranger could use it, he thought, not because this was true but because it amused him to think it. Strider did not return the Elf's smile, which suited them both just fine. Years had spun the two together, and so when Strider did not smile Legolas knew that he was smiling within but was not as liberal with his outward emotional appearance. It was much easier not to think of how this had come to be.
The Ranger, for his part, decided it was high time the Elf was given a run for his money and the miles of his mouth. Perhaps, he thought, he would make the Elf chase him. But where to hide? Strider knew better than to attempt to climb a mallyrn. Many weeks, many years past, he had sported the raw palms of one endeavor. Instead, though. . .Strider fought the offensive, switching so abruptly from defensive that he caught Legolas off guard.
"That was good, Estel!" called the Elf, forgetting. Strider continued to press him back, forcing Legolas to be the one who parried, preferring to be strongest in offensive. When it came to orcs, it was not defense that mattered--not for a good fighter. Now that it came to it, though, most orcs were not quite so skilled with a blade. . .
Lothlorien was a good place to spar, for it was safe. After Moria and. . .after Gandalf's fall. . .Strider knew no safer place than the Golden Wood. Strider himself had taken Gandalf's fall quite well. People died, he knew that, and one day he too would die. He had found his peace with this long ago. It was Legolas who found himself shaking, unable to sit still, near tears at times and angry at others. Death was a difficult concept for the immortal. Gandalf. . .it was not supposed to happen. And so Strider kept his friend busy, mending, talking, sparring.
Which is precisely how they had come to be blade-locked at that moment, until Legolas drew away and swung at Strider, who ducked beneath the weapon. It was more like dancing than fighting, the "offensive" fighter leading. With so many twists and twirls, the opponents such close comrades, that it was inconceivable that should be fighting: why not dancing? Both had the grace, one natural and one acquired with time, the concentration.
Suddenly something distracted Legolas, he turned--Strider never meant it. He had not meant to hurt Legolas, but had expected the Elf to block him. "Legolas!" Strider sheathed his sword at once. Legolas turned to the pain in his shoulder and swore quietly, moving to rub the wound clean with his sleeve. "Let me see it," Strider insisted. Legolas obediently lowered himself to a large rock. By now the Halflings had clustered about, asking what was going on and wanting to know if Legolas was all right.
Strider grimaced at the noise as he pulled Legolas's tunic gently away from his shoulder, examining the slash the Ranger knew he was responsible for. "It is not bad," he reported. "Not too deep, nothing important severed." Legolas knew this for a joke, but the hobbits did not and had a worried look to them. Carefully Strider cleaned out the wound, dabbing up the excess blood, and placed a bandage over it. "Be careful with this," Strider said. "The last thing we need is an infection."
"Legolas," Pippin asked, "how did you get that scar?"
Looking to his shoulder, Legolas saw what Pippin meant: semi-circular marks on his left shoulder. The Elf looked to the Ranger, who nodded. "Strider gave them to me," Legolas told Pippin, "many years ago."
"Strider, that wasn't noble!" gasped Pippin who had been learning from Boromir of the ethics of battle and highly doubted that biting someone was completely proper.
Strider looked to the darkening sky, then said, "Allow me a moment to start a fire, Peregrin, and I shall spin you a story such that your views of noble will never be the same." Remembering all the tales his brothers told around their own campfires, Strider felt that it was only tradition to recount this tale.
The commotion had not gone unnoticed, and by the time smoke rose to the high heavens not only Pippin but Merry, Sam, Frodo, Gimli and even Boromir had gathered by the fire. Strider, unprepared for such an audience, looked about for a place to sit. Legolas, behind him, occupied the stump of an unlucky tree, whom lightening had ended shortly. Now Strider folded himself to the ground beside his friend and began, "When I was five and ten years old. . ."
*****
To be continued
Chapters will get longer, that was only the prologue. Let me know what you think! (I'm not saying I won't continue, that's a blatant lie because I will, but it helps me to know what you as the readers want and what you like)