A/N: Hello, I hope everyone from Vignettes has joined me - action at last!
I warned you I was going to try! Just bear with me...
This is a friendship piece, Legolas and Aragorn get caught out in Mirkwood, and have to survive a night in it's winter...
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
"Well, *I'm* glad you decided we would have a walk in the woods today, orc- face."
"There's no need to get ratty, Legolas - how was I to know the weather would turn so utterly foul?"
"You should have had the fore-sight to plan ahead in case it did! You're *supposed* to be a a ranger of the very highest standards, novice-wise... I hope you're a damn sight better than this usually, otherwise all of Annor is lost!"
Things were growing to be more than a tad tetchy between the two best friends; for they were caught in the middle of the beginnings of a snow- storm... both fully believing it to be the other's fault they were in such a predicament.
Aragorn, beginner-ranger of the North and eventual heir to Isildur and the throne of Gondor, was utterly convinced that it was Legolas Greenleaf, last prince of Eryn Lasgalen and warrior elf of the very highest standard, was the one who had led them so far astray from the borders of the Mirkwood palace... and yet Legolas himself was firm in the notion that it had been *Aragorn's* idea to start off with and *his* smart plan that had brought them into the woods on such a day as that. The sky above was a forebodingly- dark hue, the clouds low and heavy in the sky, ready to shed their snowy- loads upon the world below them - both man and elf knew a snow-storm was to start at any given moment, and they were many miles from the palace, now... if Aragorn had not been so anxious, he would have even been amazed at the amount of ground he and his friend could cover in such a short space of time when they wanted to, too bad it was in the opposite direction to the palace.
Now the world around them was cold and miserable - and they were completely uncovered by trees, having reached one of the very few bare patches in the whole of Mirkwood where the ground beneath the canopy was open to the elements. Their timing, as always, was impeccable.
Aragorn turned upon his friend with annoyance, and was met with a stormy scowl that graced the fair being's usually-pleasant face. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," he stated, threat lacing his tone with acidity as his slate-grey eyes bore veritable holes in the elf's own green orbs. Legolas' eyes flashed silver with barely-concealed vexation, but he held his tongue maturely, and looked up to the low clouds again as a distraction.
A look of anxiousness crossed his face in a swift moment, before he looked back to his best friend, "We should really find *some* sort of shelter, Estel," he gently reminded the ranger, not wishing to stamp upon the man's toes.
"I know that, Legolas!" Aragorn cried out, his temper getting the better of him as it often did during his 'teen years', as Lord Elrond put it. Aragorn was only just seventeen, and growing to be a fine ranger - even if *that* particular instant didn't reflect it so. The young man immediately regretting taking his anger out on the prince, as he always did whenever he was unfair in his actions towars the elf; he knew it was not Legolas' fault they were stuck so. "I am sorry, mellon nin, that was uncalled for," he looked down at his weather-proof boots.
"Yes it was," Greenleaf said mildly, and Aragorn looked up to find the elf smiling with amusement, a golden brow raised. The ranger shook his dark head and rolled his eyes, smiling at the strange being, and the elf sniffed the air and looked all about them. He surmised, "Well, we're never going to find shelter here... it's too open, mayhap if we keep walking we can avoid the snow." As soon as the hopefull words left his pale lips, one single white flake floated down in the space between the two companions, beautiful but foreboding, they both watched it fall silently to the ground, and then dissolve away into nothing. It's plight was followed by another, and then a few more, and then a whole hoard of of the unique and yet annoyingly similar objects fell down from the heavens, beginning to coat the earth as they lay.
Legolas risked a glance up at his best friend, biting his lip as he looked up through his eyelashes, struggling valiantly to keep the smile his heart felt from his face. Aragorn just glared at him, grey eyes ablaze, "What was that?" the ranger asked, his voice merely a hiss. The elf could not hold back his laughter any longer and snorted helplessly in a most unprincely manner, holding a hand to his mouth to try and muffle the sound of his mirth. "It's not funny." If he had been younger, Aragorn would have pouted, as it was, he crossed his arms and turned away from his childish friend in annoyance.
The prince dropped his slender hand and rolled his eyes, "Oh, *come on*, Estel - look on the bright side for once, you pessimistic human... it's actually quite amusing." It was well known in tales of the terrifying Firstborn from the Mirkwood realm that even though they were the most solemn, severe and dangerous of the race of Elves, their wits sharpened and suspicious from long years innumerable of constant jeopardy and threats to their homes and themselves, having to learn to be as quick and lethal as assasins from their early years - they did had a queer sense of humour, one that might intimidate any mortal who did not know them well.
~And Legolas *would* have to find *this* funny...~ Aragorn grumped. He sighed, giving in, "I suppose you are right."
"As always," Legolas was quick to add.
Aragorn ignored him pointedly, " - mayhap we should try and find shelter, and just wait it out... it seems our original plan of escaping it has been scarpered." He looked around him at their sparce surroundings, all now covered with a thin veil of snow. "This way," he stated confidently, and strode in that direction.
Legolas followed him reluctantly, mumbling under his breath, "An elf led by a man - whatever is the world coming to?"
Aragorn pretended not to hear him.
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
"Estel? Did you feel that?"
Silence reigned suddenly, and the man stopped to look back at his best friend. Legolas was standing stock still, like a coney when it detects a fox - Aragorn could almost picture his elven ears twitching. He pushed this mildy-hilarious thought sharply away from his mind with a shake of his head, "No, what's the problem?"
Legolas turned his fair head, and his green eyes flickering from one side of the beaten pathway, half-hidden by a thick coverlet of snow, to the other as he listened with all his might. Darkness had crept into his heart, and not the usual of Mirkwood's darkening precense - it was something extra... he had felt it many times before, and it took him only a moment before he could positively place it. "Wargs!" he cried in warning just as three of the foul beasts leapt with blood-curdling howls from the dense trees surrounding them. The two warriors immediately snapped to attention.
His best friend was more than capable in his skills as a ranger, though Legolas never outwardly told him so, but not even an elf could manage a warg unaided all that often, much less three of the buggers. As it was, Aragorn's sword rang as he unsheathed it swiftly, and he immediately attempted to scewer the huge Warg running full pelt towards him. It was a just plan, and one that might have succeeded, but the Warg merely batted away the weapon with it's paw as if it were no more an annoying fly, knocking the sword completely from Aragorn's grasp.
Aragorn fully expected to have his face ripped off by the oncoming wolf before he could even reach for his dagger.
He flung his arms up to protect his face - he rather liked it and was not keen on the idea of having it torn off him - but, to his vast surprise, he felt no huge teeth ripping at his flesh. There was a roar of anger and pain, and Aragorn suddenly a very, *very* sharp pain in the back of his head as he was slammed into a tree, the full weight of a Warg bearing down upon him. Between the stars that had suddenly appeared in his vision and the swirling snow all about, he could just make out the head of an arrow potruding sickly from the monster's broad forehead. Darkness overwhelmed him before he could see much more, and he lost consciousness before he'd really had the chance to fight.
Legolas, however, was in the thick of it, with more than his fair share of fighting to contend with. He was taking on two of the hulking great beasts at the same time, and wasn't all that confident he could do such a thing. He seemed to dance about the pathway, hoping to at least outrun the Wargs till he got his chance to defend himself... this plan, however, had many flaws. For one, Wargs are faster than they appear, and though they cannot fully match up to the speed of an elf, in an enclosed space they can definately compete. The short second Legolas had faltered and shot an arrow to save his best friend, cost him dearly. The Wargs were suddenly upon him, giving him no more time to aid Aragorn.
In such a small space, the pathway not being all that broad and the dense trees surrounding it acting like a dark wall, the wolves could not both attack at once. Legolas threw his bow to safety, it not being suibtable for such close-quarters work, and whipped out his long white battle-knives. The first Warg came at him, coarse fur mane bristled into spikes and livid yellow eyes wild, and the elven prince jumped upwards and over him, high into the air, avoiding the first onslaught of gnashing fangs by only the skin of his teeth. By leaping clean over the first Warg, however, he landed directly in the path of the second.
"Not good!" he cried out at no one, green eyes wide, and he swiped both knives around instinctively in the same direction, unintentionally slashing the evil creature across his snout. It worked though, and the Warg howled and jerked backwards, giving Legolas a clean shot at his exposed throat. Legolas took the opportunity to delve both knives up to their hilts into the wolf's neck at an upward angle that guarenteed most damage to be done. He grimaced as a flood of dark red blood gushed freely over his hands, and he let go of both knives as the Warg slumped downwards; the force would have snapped both his wrists had he held on any longer.
In hindsight, this was not a wise move - Legolas had almost forgotten that there was another Warg merely a few yards behind him.
As it was he turned to see the foul beast charging straight at him - none of the other weapons he kept strapped to his person would be any good for such a thing, nor would the bow he had just picked up from the place he had flung it, and so he backed away as far as he could, until his back met a tree behind him. He cast his eyes around desperately for some other weapon, wishing he had not left his sword at the palace - believing this to just be a walk in the woods, how wrong he was. His eyes fell upon the fallen shape of Aragorn.
"Estel!" he cried out, "Estel, *help*!!!" He brought he bow across his chest as the Warg barrelled into him, knocking the wind completely out of him as he slammed into the ground at the foot of the tree, straight on his back. Legolas used his bow to fend of the snapping, snarling jaws for as long as physically possible, but his arms shook slightly with the strain, and the jaws drew closer and closer to his face no matter how much he pushed against them. "*Estel!*" he hollered in desperation again, as the Warg suddenly bit straight through his beautiful bow, splintering into a thousand pieces and destroying the only defence the elf had left.
Legolas flung his arm up to shield his head as the beast lunged for him, and consequently the huge fangs of the Warg plunged straight into the flesh of the top of his right arm and his shoulder, ripping and tearing away skin, flesh and muscle till the jaws actually gripped the bone. Legolas screamed in agony he could not control as the Warg began to pull away at once and try to unstick it's fangs from where they had caught in the bone of his arm. The beast finally freed itself from Legolas' body part, snapping it uncleanly. The Warg backed up a step, and then launched itself once more, and Legolas was helpless to stop him.
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
What did you think? Should I bother continuing with action or shall I stick to my good ol' angst and inward feelings? Review and let me know!
This is a friendship piece, Legolas and Aragorn get caught out in Mirkwood, and have to survive a night in it's winter...
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
"Well, *I'm* glad you decided we would have a walk in the woods today, orc- face."
"There's no need to get ratty, Legolas - how was I to know the weather would turn so utterly foul?"
"You should have had the fore-sight to plan ahead in case it did! You're *supposed* to be a a ranger of the very highest standards, novice-wise... I hope you're a damn sight better than this usually, otherwise all of Annor is lost!"
Things were growing to be more than a tad tetchy between the two best friends; for they were caught in the middle of the beginnings of a snow- storm... both fully believing it to be the other's fault they were in such a predicament.
Aragorn, beginner-ranger of the North and eventual heir to Isildur and the throne of Gondor, was utterly convinced that it was Legolas Greenleaf, last prince of Eryn Lasgalen and warrior elf of the very highest standard, was the one who had led them so far astray from the borders of the Mirkwood palace... and yet Legolas himself was firm in the notion that it had been *Aragorn's* idea to start off with and *his* smart plan that had brought them into the woods on such a day as that. The sky above was a forebodingly- dark hue, the clouds low and heavy in the sky, ready to shed their snowy- loads upon the world below them - both man and elf knew a snow-storm was to start at any given moment, and they were many miles from the palace, now... if Aragorn had not been so anxious, he would have even been amazed at the amount of ground he and his friend could cover in such a short space of time when they wanted to, too bad it was in the opposite direction to the palace.
Now the world around them was cold and miserable - and they were completely uncovered by trees, having reached one of the very few bare patches in the whole of Mirkwood where the ground beneath the canopy was open to the elements. Their timing, as always, was impeccable.
Aragorn turned upon his friend with annoyance, and was met with a stormy scowl that graced the fair being's usually-pleasant face. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," he stated, threat lacing his tone with acidity as his slate-grey eyes bore veritable holes in the elf's own green orbs. Legolas' eyes flashed silver with barely-concealed vexation, but he held his tongue maturely, and looked up to the low clouds again as a distraction.
A look of anxiousness crossed his face in a swift moment, before he looked back to his best friend, "We should really find *some* sort of shelter, Estel," he gently reminded the ranger, not wishing to stamp upon the man's toes.
"I know that, Legolas!" Aragorn cried out, his temper getting the better of him as it often did during his 'teen years', as Lord Elrond put it. Aragorn was only just seventeen, and growing to be a fine ranger - even if *that* particular instant didn't reflect it so. The young man immediately regretting taking his anger out on the prince, as he always did whenever he was unfair in his actions towars the elf; he knew it was not Legolas' fault they were stuck so. "I am sorry, mellon nin, that was uncalled for," he looked down at his weather-proof boots.
"Yes it was," Greenleaf said mildly, and Aragorn looked up to find the elf smiling with amusement, a golden brow raised. The ranger shook his dark head and rolled his eyes, smiling at the strange being, and the elf sniffed the air and looked all about them. He surmised, "Well, we're never going to find shelter here... it's too open, mayhap if we keep walking we can avoid the snow." As soon as the hopefull words left his pale lips, one single white flake floated down in the space between the two companions, beautiful but foreboding, they both watched it fall silently to the ground, and then dissolve away into nothing. It's plight was followed by another, and then a few more, and then a whole hoard of of the unique and yet annoyingly similar objects fell down from the heavens, beginning to coat the earth as they lay.
Legolas risked a glance up at his best friend, biting his lip as he looked up through his eyelashes, struggling valiantly to keep the smile his heart felt from his face. Aragorn just glared at him, grey eyes ablaze, "What was that?" the ranger asked, his voice merely a hiss. The elf could not hold back his laughter any longer and snorted helplessly in a most unprincely manner, holding a hand to his mouth to try and muffle the sound of his mirth. "It's not funny." If he had been younger, Aragorn would have pouted, as it was, he crossed his arms and turned away from his childish friend in annoyance.
The prince dropped his slender hand and rolled his eyes, "Oh, *come on*, Estel - look on the bright side for once, you pessimistic human... it's actually quite amusing." It was well known in tales of the terrifying Firstborn from the Mirkwood realm that even though they were the most solemn, severe and dangerous of the race of Elves, their wits sharpened and suspicious from long years innumerable of constant jeopardy and threats to their homes and themselves, having to learn to be as quick and lethal as assasins from their early years - they did had a queer sense of humour, one that might intimidate any mortal who did not know them well.
~And Legolas *would* have to find *this* funny...~ Aragorn grumped. He sighed, giving in, "I suppose you are right."
"As always," Legolas was quick to add.
Aragorn ignored him pointedly, " - mayhap we should try and find shelter, and just wait it out... it seems our original plan of escaping it has been scarpered." He looked around him at their sparce surroundings, all now covered with a thin veil of snow. "This way," he stated confidently, and strode in that direction.
Legolas followed him reluctantly, mumbling under his breath, "An elf led by a man - whatever is the world coming to?"
Aragorn pretended not to hear him.
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
"Estel? Did you feel that?"
Silence reigned suddenly, and the man stopped to look back at his best friend. Legolas was standing stock still, like a coney when it detects a fox - Aragorn could almost picture his elven ears twitching. He pushed this mildy-hilarious thought sharply away from his mind with a shake of his head, "No, what's the problem?"
Legolas turned his fair head, and his green eyes flickering from one side of the beaten pathway, half-hidden by a thick coverlet of snow, to the other as he listened with all his might. Darkness had crept into his heart, and not the usual of Mirkwood's darkening precense - it was something extra... he had felt it many times before, and it took him only a moment before he could positively place it. "Wargs!" he cried in warning just as three of the foul beasts leapt with blood-curdling howls from the dense trees surrounding them. The two warriors immediately snapped to attention.
His best friend was more than capable in his skills as a ranger, though Legolas never outwardly told him so, but not even an elf could manage a warg unaided all that often, much less three of the buggers. As it was, Aragorn's sword rang as he unsheathed it swiftly, and he immediately attempted to scewer the huge Warg running full pelt towards him. It was a just plan, and one that might have succeeded, but the Warg merely batted away the weapon with it's paw as if it were no more an annoying fly, knocking the sword completely from Aragorn's grasp.
Aragorn fully expected to have his face ripped off by the oncoming wolf before he could even reach for his dagger.
He flung his arms up to protect his face - he rather liked it and was not keen on the idea of having it torn off him - but, to his vast surprise, he felt no huge teeth ripping at his flesh. There was a roar of anger and pain, and Aragorn suddenly a very, *very* sharp pain in the back of his head as he was slammed into a tree, the full weight of a Warg bearing down upon him. Between the stars that had suddenly appeared in his vision and the swirling snow all about, he could just make out the head of an arrow potruding sickly from the monster's broad forehead. Darkness overwhelmed him before he could see much more, and he lost consciousness before he'd really had the chance to fight.
Legolas, however, was in the thick of it, with more than his fair share of fighting to contend with. He was taking on two of the hulking great beasts at the same time, and wasn't all that confident he could do such a thing. He seemed to dance about the pathway, hoping to at least outrun the Wargs till he got his chance to defend himself... this plan, however, had many flaws. For one, Wargs are faster than they appear, and though they cannot fully match up to the speed of an elf, in an enclosed space they can definately compete. The short second Legolas had faltered and shot an arrow to save his best friend, cost him dearly. The Wargs were suddenly upon him, giving him no more time to aid Aragorn.
In such a small space, the pathway not being all that broad and the dense trees surrounding it acting like a dark wall, the wolves could not both attack at once. Legolas threw his bow to safety, it not being suibtable for such close-quarters work, and whipped out his long white battle-knives. The first Warg came at him, coarse fur mane bristled into spikes and livid yellow eyes wild, and the elven prince jumped upwards and over him, high into the air, avoiding the first onslaught of gnashing fangs by only the skin of his teeth. By leaping clean over the first Warg, however, he landed directly in the path of the second.
"Not good!" he cried out at no one, green eyes wide, and he swiped both knives around instinctively in the same direction, unintentionally slashing the evil creature across his snout. It worked though, and the Warg howled and jerked backwards, giving Legolas a clean shot at his exposed throat. Legolas took the opportunity to delve both knives up to their hilts into the wolf's neck at an upward angle that guarenteed most damage to be done. He grimaced as a flood of dark red blood gushed freely over his hands, and he let go of both knives as the Warg slumped downwards; the force would have snapped both his wrists had he held on any longer.
In hindsight, this was not a wise move - Legolas had almost forgotten that there was another Warg merely a few yards behind him.
As it was he turned to see the foul beast charging straight at him - none of the other weapons he kept strapped to his person would be any good for such a thing, nor would the bow he had just picked up from the place he had flung it, and so he backed away as far as he could, until his back met a tree behind him. He cast his eyes around desperately for some other weapon, wishing he had not left his sword at the palace - believing this to just be a walk in the woods, how wrong he was. His eyes fell upon the fallen shape of Aragorn.
"Estel!" he cried out, "Estel, *help*!!!" He brought he bow across his chest as the Warg barrelled into him, knocking the wind completely out of him as he slammed into the ground at the foot of the tree, straight on his back. Legolas used his bow to fend of the snapping, snarling jaws for as long as physically possible, but his arms shook slightly with the strain, and the jaws drew closer and closer to his face no matter how much he pushed against them. "*Estel!*" he hollered in desperation again, as the Warg suddenly bit straight through his beautiful bow, splintering into a thousand pieces and destroying the only defence the elf had left.
Legolas flung his arm up to shield his head as the beast lunged for him, and consequently the huge fangs of the Warg plunged straight into the flesh of the top of his right arm and his shoulder, ripping and tearing away skin, flesh and muscle till the jaws actually gripped the bone. Legolas screamed in agony he could not control as the Warg began to pull away at once and try to unstick it's fangs from where they had caught in the bone of his arm. The beast finally freed itself from Legolas' body part, snapping it uncleanly. The Warg backed up a step, and then launched itself once more, and Legolas was helpless to stop him.
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
What did you think? Should I bother continuing with action or shall I stick to my good ol' angst and inward feelings? Review and let me know!