Stinking Eight Legged Freaks (Leggy and Such)

[Aizreal]

She had never had issues with insect prior.. She even remember a point in time in her life when food was so little that bugs were only source of protein she had in her diet. Then she fancied crickets as they were crunchy.

Little did she know of a place where table could be turned so easily and she could end up on the menu for a bug. Though had she known what laid upon her path she more than likely would have given up and left her hunt for Boromir to another but pride seemed to fuel her thirst..

He had broke her will by challenge when he turned her over for another man to imprison. He seemed to spit upon her worth as he turned his back on her she watched him ride off with the girl no telling if she was still with him or not .

Though that didn’t' matter it was more or less that principle that he had gotten the last word in and in doing so he had wounded her pride and the pain of the that lead this search and this search lead her to a place where forest grew darker and more wild it seeme things grew larger here well to her they seemed larger and more thick tree's that trunks seemed to reach for the heavens and it was in this tangled thick that she walked softly her horse almost coaxing her on ward with a gentle nudge here and there.

Speaking the horse not as it was something magical just mainly to stop it from giving her a bite to lead her forward. Yes the stinking horse that Aizreal stole was of course one that had no qualms in biting the hand that fed it..

Hearing something rustle her footsteps cease and she eyes her surroundings intently.

Tree.. Rock.. another tree.. Well what do you know another tree.. ohhh a rock.. This one is a bit shiny though.. Hmmm perfect for throwing.. hmmmm it might come in handy..

Worst sense of timing had her bending over and presenting the horse who was known for biting with a nice target.

Nip, Nip.. Pull..Rip... Ouuuuch

Whipping around she her hand gripping the tender flesh that was now throbbed.. fingers catching a hole about the size of a stone in her hand in the back of her dress. Glaring she hissed darkly at the horse who no doubt didn't understand a word she said.

"I give you good plants, plenty of water and still you savor the taste of my blood ol' nag... Vicious beast"

She reached in going to smack the horse she noticed that her fingers were stained with blood.

"was that necessary.. Bad enough you bite me there but must you scar me as well.." There was another movement behind her this time close enough to capture the horses attention and spook it enough to get it to jump running after it she soon found herself stuck in flurry of white sticky cotton.. The pulling against it she wasn't sure watch it was till her fingers touched the silk like threads hearing the panic scream of her horse she saw just in time what had been stalking them from above..

[Aizreal]

What a silly simple fool she had been and how very quickly she was reminded that she was indeed mortal and there were more fierce things in the world around than that of a heart that was driven and desperately determined.

You would think that when faced with a path that would lead to your death you might panic but panic was an emotion that was buried long ago the closest thing she came to it was when she had that dreadful mans around her and saw in his eyes something besides blinding hatred.

She heard a soft purring like hum as they so effort slide down the fragile looking silk. The creatures that she saw were things that had filled folklore for thousands of years. These spiders were only whispered about to keep a headstrong child safe and out of places where danger might find her.

Aizreal knew she was suppose to feel scared to feel dread as these things were dangerous though she didn't feel the slightest bit of that emotion and that annoyed her why had she been robed of something so human why was she to walk the world on human legs and been devoid of the very thing that made her human.

It wasn't with fear that she watched the creatures but more with a wide eyed curiosity even as they cracked their weird language she was aware of the fact that wished her harm though it didn't come from what they spoke she didn't have the ability to converse with spiders though she didn't need to everything they said was expressed in their presence in the language of their bodies. The way their spindle like legs moved danced with precision moving them closer.

She watched as one snapped its ivory like gleaming fangs. A small smile crept across her childish face. She appreciated it's predatory skills how it hunted her and left her with no feeling of it's presence it had bested her and she respected that.

She caught her reflection in one of it's many eyes as pressed a spear like stinger into her thigh never had she seen herself so clearly than she did that moment. Feeling the stinging venom wash threw her veins she looked up as the shadow's swirled above all the sounds around her became more intense and she heard it. She heard a small growl and her head turned in its direction she caught the shadow of figure and even heard his heart beat an un-natural beat un-like her own that was hum was slowing. Looking down at the beast that stung her she whispered softly with a chuckle..

"You are not alone! From the east he races. My blood will not be yours to savor"

Much of the following was lost to drugged feeling that over swept her quickly she didn't remember how she was released from the bonds that held her she just remember that her arms and legs became free and voice told her to climb on to his back. To be honest it could have been one of the spiders and she would have never known. She clung to his strength her cheek pressed against the firmness of his back and she became ensnared with the beating of his heart till she was broke from it as he placed her upon feet that seemed un-able to hold her she fell to her knee's her face turned upward to look upon him and in the light she saw his face pale as the moon in darkness of night she knew then what she had come across and her skin prickled at the very thought that she had met in her life time an elf.

"I was told your race didn't exist.. "She turned her head down as she realized that the stories her mother whispered about an ancient Friend to Man, the same stories she had long ago dismissed where true. Her large eyes washed over him this myth brought to life he was a little shorter than she pictured as a child. Then again she wasn't a child anymore. The sting from her leg throbbed and she winced as it brought darkness around her. She sat down which eased the pain.. Swearing in an undignified way she looked in the direction from which they came from.

"I need leeches they could suck the venom" Frowning she forgot he was there for moment as the tried to place where her satchel was.." Ehhh you silly girl leeches do little good in a satchel on your horse." With a moan she laid down frowning looking up at him realizing that he was still standing there which she quickly also began to resent as she didn't want this obvious moment of weakness to be witnessed. It was then what he said whispered back to her and she comprehended that he seen her wrist and he might have gathered she was a captive.

A look of insolence came to her slate blue eyes. "Took? Yes but not for long the captain from Rohan learned it was a regrettable action. He learned some humans were made never to be obtained”

[Aizreal]

Not finding herself comfortable with this station in life. It just wasn't like her to depend on the kindness of a stranger, mainly as she learned early on as a child once you allowed yourself that bit of vulnerability it gave people the ability to harm you so giving control to another much less a stranger was just stretching it.. Not to mention that it wasn't just a stranger but a stranger from a race she didn't know much about looking at him with a very critical glance that brimmed with curiosity as she openly dissected him with her eyes.

Why ever are they so pale.. His skin is like milk, I wonder if they are cold to the touch? Do they feel like the dead?

She flinched away from him as if he moved to strike her a small groan of pain erupted from her lips as she tried to pull out of his reach as he moved to turn her over so he could inspect her wounds. She didn't like being touched and was very un-comfortable in his hands. Twice she made a consorted effort to hop from his grip that had the strangest of feelings. She never knew a firm grip could still allow you so much room to be flexible she thought for sure he was afraid of hurting her further which might have been the reason for his lack of grip she thought she would have little time pressing herself out of hands that held her so loosely.

As he laid her on a soft spot of forest floor she flashed him a annoyed look.. " I'm not completely useless.. I Could walk.." Why are you lying to him it is doubting you can feel you stinking legs.. You really that fearful of what he can do?.. But you remember what you mother said.. Elves are magical beings.. They hold powers that can ensnare the senses.

She pushed his hand away with a hint of stubborn forcefulness expecting a cold insult or a threat she found herself in the strangest of disadvantage when he only treated her with soft hands and reassuring words not words that made her feel cheap and soiled but words that seemed only spoke to sooth her.

So quickly he became something to be feared as she knew that everything had a cost surely he would expect something in return for his kindness. She watched with critical and shrewd eyes that spoke of a person well beyond the years that was trapped in a face that looked like it had only seen few summers un-aware of how her eyes betrayed her she tilted her head and said quickly..

"I'm capable of tending to myself.. Been kept alive this long on what I know... I would rather not depend on your magic, I prefer the ways of the old than something I don't understand.. "

So quickly she regretted her attempt at reasoning with an elf.. It was the last time she would give an elf benefit of the doubt in believing the race was capable of being reasonable..

Shaking her head no as he chewed on a strange plant she hissed at him.. " your not laying that on me.. I don't even know what it is.. You might even poison me.. and the fact your chewing it .. How clean can that be.. I don't know where your mouth has been? Leave it be you..... ARrrgggh Get off.. It burns.. look if it fall off I will find a way to beat you to death with it.. Slow the poison and ease the pain my arse compared to what Salt.."

Fighting my hands away I force myself to sit up and in doing so my thigh screams with pain enough so I linger towards shock for a few precious seconds as my weak side pleads to venture to a place where I won't remember this.. I wasn't aware that my fingers rips at my wound till I look at my blood covered finger tips.

Swaying slightly I feel heat rush over me as I pass out cold to be haunted by strange words that I do not comprehend.. I whisper restlessly.. as I venture out of towards the darkness that calls out comforting.. " it was never mine to hold.. He has damned me."

(strange ending i know but it will un-fold just trust me).

[Aizreal]

This was not to be her way. Even in her childish way of looking at the world around her she knew that she was never to make it this far. The God's forsaken such an existence her luck was to have ran out a long time ago. In her heart that is what she craved and ending for this miserable life that she was leading.

Feeling a strange tingling that makes my heart beat faster. Stirring she groan and her grey eyes open to catch his soft gaze upon me. The softness that rest in his eyes the peace that he hold even as I note a bit of sorrow I see he is not bitter something I don't understand though his kind is something I had never seen before.

She really had nothing to compare him to other than the extremely flawed races she had met or worse yet the flawed that she shared a doomed heritage with. Still the look in his eye was so sorrow filled so pained and it wasn't a physical ache that plagued him that was evident as he didn't bleed he didn't cradle some broken part but judging from the look upon his face if he could there was little doubt that he would be cradling the remains of his heart.

That reality twisted in her side like that of a dull blade only sent to cause ache and torture. She knew the truth no a single soul on that rotting land would mourn her death if she fell it would be a silent farewell as she had never tasted the blossoming sweetness of love to be perfectly honest it was a human emotion that she thought better not to taste.

It was in those precious moments she studied him his sadness that seemed to erupt from his odd form that looked strangely boyish and yet possessed all the wisdom of a world she would never taste.

Such a strange combination of a man and child

"Your kind are rumored to live an eternity why is it that you look as if someone had just walked upon your grave.."

[Aizreal]

Struggling against the softness of the the voice that lured her to sleep something she had no intention of doing as sleep is havoc on a guilty person's mind. Though even still the softness of which the trance she was placed under lured her like a trap and with grace of a protesting toddler she fought the sleep that she wanted.

"I'm not tired" Said of course with droopy eyes and a lingering yawn. Face grimacing as she felt sleepy. WIth determination she fought and sat up in last ditch effort to have some sort of control of the situtation.

She watched him with the eyes of a child hunger for knowledge. Studying his face she tried desperatly she wanted to know what he was thinking if he could do her harm but all she found was sadness a sadness she knew all too well as she herself fought thinking about her own pain of loss.

Hearing his words she looked down and said quitely.. " I thought your kind could not die" Perhaps she was childish about it but her only knowledge of his kind came from nightly whispers of an age of old from a mother who drank too much.

[KC]

“A visit? A visit for no reason?”

Aragorn could not help but to raise his eyebrows as he questioned Gandalf. In the many years of their friendship, Aragorn had never known the wizard to do anything without cause. Now Mithrandir had brought him to Mirkwood and was claiming to just be in a friendly, elf-visiting mood. Aragorn could not be duped so easily. Perhaps it would have been different at around the time when Aragorn had just met Gandalf the Grey, when he was unaccustomed with the wizard’s playfully devious ways. But now he knew something was afoot, and he fully believed that Gandalf was keeping it from him to see just how ruffled Aragorn could become.

Aragorn snorted as Gandalf again repeated that he had no motives for traveling to Mirkwood. “What do you have to do, Gandalf?” Aragorn persisted.

“Not me,” was the cryptic answer Aragorn received.

“Me, then.” Aragorn knew that Gandalf did not need him as a traveling companion desperately enough to journey out of his way to persuade Aragorn to join in this ‘visit.’ “You want me to do something.” He did not need to phrase this as a question since he realized that he had won part of the wizard’s guessing game. Aragorn could survive in the wilderness for years on his own with nothing but his sword, but he was not sure that he had the fortitude to continue this wearisome guessing and actually learn what Gandalf wanted of him.

There was something… off this time. Aragorn did not know how to describe it, but the twinkle that usually appeared in Gandalf’s eyes when he was tormenting Aragorn was most noticeably absent. Aragorn’s task, whatever it may be, was grave. He rather hoped it was not anything diplomatic. Gandalf spoke Elvish just as well as Aragorn did, and was better liked for the most part. But recently little feuds had been springing up here and there. Aragorn sighed. Perhaps the race of men needed defending in some argument.

Aragorn walked in silence next to Gandalf, breathing deeply the Mirkwood air. He knew that it was his duty as Chieftain of the Dúnedain to be closer to the Shire and in lands inhabited by men, but his heart missed the elven forests.

Gandalf had stopped suddenly. “There,” he murmured. There were figures in the distance, an elf and a small woman. She appeared to be injured, but, as far as Aragorn could tell, she was in perfectly capable hands.

“Does the girl need my aid, Gandalf?”

Aragorn was puzzled as the wizard shook his hand emphatically. “Not the girl.” Aragorn watched as Gandalf’s eyes saddened as they lingered on the elf. “Attend to the elf, Aragorn. I believe that you can recognize Legolas, Prince of this Woodland Realm? He has suffered greatly.”

With no other explanation, Gandalf turned his back and retreated, perhaps, Aragorn thought, to actually go visiting. It was exasperating, but Aragorn had been given his orders, so he made his way forward slowly, at a loss as to how he should approach his task. “Attend to the elf.”

As Aragorn neared, his elvish greeting died on his lips. “Le suilon.” hardly seemed appropriate for one who had “suffered greatly”, but he had to admit that it was a far sight better than “Mae govannen.” [Well met.]

[KC]

"She is gone, melon. She is gone."

With those words, Aragorn could feel his own face pale as the blood coursing through his veins turned to ice. There was only one being that "she" could possibly be. The love of Legolas' life had been ripped from this world somehow.

"She is gone and-- and it is my fault, Aragorn."

Aragorn had met Isilien even before he had learned that Legolas had fallen madly in love with her. When he heard of their secret relationship, it had only been too easy for him to understand how a prince could love this commoner. No individual could help but to smile when the elvish maiden passed, singing and brightening even the darkest areas of the woods with her smile. To think that she was gone...

"She is gone... and it is all my fault."

It was a terrible thing to see a heartbroken lover crumble. There were wounds here deeper than any that Aragorn could cure. Saddest of all was the news that had come to Aragorn not long ago that Legolas had announced to his father that Isilien came first in his life, bravely tempting the king's fury for the sake of the maiden he loved and wished to spend eternity with. It was a cruel, cruel twist of fate to tear her away from him after finally making his affections known.

"I... I am sorry. Amin hiraetha, Legolas."

The inadequate words seem to stick in his throat. He could not even imagine the pain the elf must be enduring, the complete agony. The mere thought of losing Arwen to death made him sick. He could not conceive the darkness, the hopelessness that must have engulfed Legolas. Perhaps Gandalf had brought him here to Legolas thinking that Aragorn possessed some wise counsel, some knowledge of doomed love to ease the elf’s suffering. But Gandalf had been mistaken. Aragorn had nothing. He could only grieve with Legolas, and he felt completely helpless. As a healer and a chieftain, it was one of the worst feelings had had ever experienced- knowing he could do absolutely nothing to help rectify the situation.

As Legolas dropped his head to Aragorn’s shoulder, Aragorn took a quick glance at the elf to access his physical condition, the soldier in him rearing his head. Aragorn would wage his sword that Legolas had not eaten or slept since the time that Isilien had died. He felt the lump in his throat increase as he could feel the poor elf’s jagged breath wrench his entire body. “Let us sit,” Aragorn said softly, slowly helping Legolas to the ground. He feared that if they remained on their feet much longer, the elf might collapse.

“No brave face with me now, mellon.” Aragorn understood that Legolas must have had to wear a mask for the past few days, hoarding his true emotions, his grief to himself. He wanted Legolas to know that no amount of tears could cause Aragorn to think any less of the elf. If Legolas bottled his pain too long, it could turn deadly for him. The elf was very brave indeed to have survived so long after sustaining such a loss.

“Please, let your grief out. I know I cannot do anything to help, but I can listen. I will listen for as long as you need ears.”

[KC]

This was difficult. This entire event was causing Aragorn’s stomach to churn and his eyes to smart. He just did not understand life. For all that he had seen in the world, and he had really seen most of it, he did not think that he would ever truly understand life. Oh, this was so difficult.

Aragorn held Legolas’ head as he sobbed. Aragorn had always liked to believe that things had to happen for a reason. It was the only way he could cope when his men were cut down in battle. But this… What could possibly be the reason for this? It made no sense, and it actually physically hurt Aragorn to look down at his friend in so much pain. Aragorn realized that he was actually grinding his own teeth.

Legolas kept on repeating the fact over and over again that his love was gone. Over and over and over again, as if this was really the first opportunity he had given himself to let the terrible truth sink in. Aragorn unconsciously tightened his grip on Legolas as the elf began to shake rather violently. For a slight second he was terrified that this wave of grief Aragorn had encouraged Legolas to endure might be too much for his friend. In the manner of those who had comforted him when he was younger, he ran his hand over Legolas’ hair in an attempt to provide some sort of small comfort.

"It was my fault... mellonin... it was my fault... she is dead because of me... I... killed... her... I killed Isilien..."

Legolas’ words struck Aragorn with the realization that he knew nothing of how Isilien had died. Gandalf had brought him here with the hope that he could somehow help Legolas in his darkest hour. Aragorn wondered how Gandalf deemed it wise to send Aragorn with no knowledge of the tragedy. The next time he spoke to Gandalf, he would have to question the wizard’s approach since it put Aragorn at a definite disadvantage. He did not know what had happened, so how could he respond to Legolas’ claim that he had killed his love, that her death was his fault? He must say something, but Aragorn did not want any ignorant words to inadvertently inflict more pain upon his suffering friend.

“You love Isilien,” Aragorn finally voiced firmly. If he did not know what happened, he must speak of what he did know. “And she knew this. You would never intentionally cause her harm, Legolas. Never.”

[KC]

Aragorn felt his stomach churn in horror as Legolas related his story, his altercation with his father, Isilien’s wish that the two of them be reconciled, that they were wed. To think that Legolas knew such bliss for one day… one day only to have it ripped so violently away from him… Aragorn blinded rapidly. There was nothing he could ever do to make this right. There was nothing anyone could ever do. He felt as if he should not even make eye contact with his grieving friend. There was nothing he could do.

He had seen many different forms of sorrow during his life. Most of the time, watching those affected by it was a numbing experience. Aragorn would just watch and feel nothing. He saw so much death in battle that he could not afford to cry over the graves of the men he lost, as much as he might have wanted to do so. He had to be numb and stoic for those who still had life within them. But now, as Aragorn’s eyes followed Legolas as he darted over to the bushes, he was not numb. It was as if he had consumed some poison, as if he had been stabbed in the stomach. This was a strange connection; it was odd that Legolas’ suffering could affect Aragorn in such a manner.

Aragorn drew himself to his feet. He felt old, another odd sensation. Shrugging it off, Aragorn made his way over to Legolas. Aragorn wished that he had a damp cloth to put on the back of his friend’s neck to sooth him, but nothing was available. Instead Aragorn put his right hand on the elf’s back and used the other to draw back his long hair.

“Legolas.” Aragorn’s voice was low. “Legolas, please listen to me. Legolas, you must realize that it was not your fault. It was not at your bidding that the Orcs attacked. You were outnumbered and ambushed.” Those Orcs. Aragorn should like to tear them limb from limb with his bare hands for causing his friend so much pain. “My friend, I know you must feel anger, and I will not pretend to know what it is like, but you cannot direct it at yourself. Direct your anger at those who deserve it.”

He then had an idea. Aragorn gave no voice to it, for it only might make things worse. But it might help. It just might. He would have to carefully gauge his friend’s response.

[KC]

“Vengeance for my lady? Tell me how, mellonin."

Aragorn made no response for a moment. He was a warrior, and cumulatively he had most likely spent just as much time in battle as he had sleeping or eating. If something… the very thought made him sick and panicked, but if something should ever happen to Arwen, if the light in his life should suddenly be quenched by an earthly foe, he would want… no, he would need revenge. He would not be able to rest until he had spilt the blood of every vile creature who was even the remotest bit involved. Legolas was behaving much better than Aragorn would if he were in his friend’s shoes.

But, perhaps Aragorn’s plan might help. It might provide Legolas with the slightest sense of closure. Or it might help him to accept that Isilien’s death was not his fault. Then again, it could make everything so much worse.

“If something were to happen to Arwen, mellonin…” He felt himself actually shiver. “If something were to happen, I would want to find the monsters who had hurt her. I would want to hunt them down and make them pay for their crimes.” He felt himself become heated. His blood already began pumping through his vein a bit quicker.

He paused to see if he could read what Legolas what feeling. If such a suggestion would only cause him more pain, Aragorn knew he would need to stop. But he could discern nothing.

“Legolas. Mellonin.” Aragorn put his hand on the elf’s shoulder. “Say the word, and I will cease speaking, but I think that we should hunt the Orcs who have caused you such excruciating pain. You can do nothing to bring Isilien back, but you can avenge her.”

Aragorn’s mind was racing as he waited for Legolas’ answer. It might be more distressing for him to again lay eyes upon the creatures who had killed his new wife, but… Aragorn had never felt so apprehensive about any thought he had given voice before. If his idea was going to cause his friend more pain… This uncertainty was so strange.

“I would go with you, mellonin, if you would want me to.” The only thing that Aragorn could think to do was to pledge his loyalty, to let his suffering friend know that he would leave only if it was Legolas’ wish.