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| 6 Fourth Age: Daybreak Contemplation; [ open ] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: 28 Sep 2008, 12:19 PM (505 Views) | |
| Deleted User | 28 Sep 2008, 12:19 PM Post #1 |
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Pacing was something Elladan never did, so if one who knew the Elf well saw him doing exactly so along the courtyard wall at such an early hour in the morning, then they would know that something was wrong. He was nervous, for, he didn’t know, only recognizing the weird feeling as the one he used to get as a child, when he had done something that his Ada was going to grill him for. He knew the feeling well, but this time, he could not say the reason why he felt so nervous and wary. He could easily blame the feeling on being away from Elrohir for so long, the twins had always been together, or if not together, within close distance of each other. It was how they had grown up, and as Arwen had grown up also, they had stayed close to her, and Estel too. Their family was worth more to them than anything, and Celebrain’s departure after her torture gave them a stronger need to stay together, so if anything went wrong, they could be there in time. They’d be able to do something. But he digressed, and ran both hands through his hair and close his eyes, trying to cool the shaking of his fingertips, the nervous adrenaline running through his body, already preparing him for something. Glancing over the horizon again, Elladan sighed, he knew his twin was okay, so it could not be that, for if Elrohir had been injured he would know, he would almost feel it, they were twins, after all. Yet that still didn’t help the feeling he was getting, which he could partly blame on wonder for his brother, but the rest, he could not pin down. His pacing resumed, thinking briefly about his parents, and how Elrond had departed across to the Havens nearly three years ago now, and yet it didn’t seem like a week to him. Like it had happened a few days ago, whilst he and Elrohir had delayed their choice, staying in Middle-Earth. Stopping again and placing his hands on the white stone wall, Elladan looked out across the slowly glowing horizon as the sun rose to light it, casting all that moved in illuminating light, revealing empty fields and quiet levels of the city. But not even such calming sights could rest the feeling in his heart. |
| Deleted User | 28 Sep 2008, 08:10 PM Post #2 |
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So this is it. Milo stood along the ramparts of the seventh level of Minas Tirith, looking to the East. This was what Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo had seen. Only not quite, Milo reminded himself. Six years ago, there would have been a spot of red flame over the black mountains and a gathering storm. A shudder passed through Milo. What had he gotten himself tangled up in? All he’d wanted to do was map the lands from Bree to Weathertop. Three months later, here he stood, in the greatest of the many cities of men. The morning light stained the mountains a bloody red. It frightened Milo. He turned to leave and find his room again. Milo had never seen an Elf before, but he recognized the other visitor to the courtyard as one of the Fair Folk. Awe, reverence, and sadness stole over the Hobbit in quick succession. “Begging your pardon,” he murmured while walking past, his eyes turned down in respect. “I’ll just be getting out of your way then.” |
| Deleted User | 29 Sep 2008, 07:43 PM Post #3 |
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What was it? What in all of the shadows was it? Closing his eyes and trying to open his mind to anything – anything – that would cause this feeling to go away, Elladan found himself opening soon after with annoyance in their coloured hues. He did not like this feeling of worry, he did not worry, it was not his way, and he disliked the feeling of it greatly. Yet he did not possess the gift of foresight like his father, although he did have over gifts he found useful, and wished for a moment that he did. So he could help those around him, so he could reassure himself that there was nothing to worry about. Which wouldn’t happen, because there was always something to worry about, even if it was small, there was always something. There was no rest. Dark eyes widened slightly before he looked behind him, and then down at the Hobbit who walked past, murmuring apologizes, frowning a little, Elladan hesitated the briefest of moments before deciding to speak. His voice was not as soft as his sisters, nor as harsh as his father’s, but held the tone in-between, only lacking it’s usual smile and laughter due to the thoughts he had been pondering seconds before. “My pardon for what, Master Hobbit?” he spoke, inclining his head to the side with interest. “You were not disturbing me, there is plenty of room on this glorious courtyard for the both of us. You need not leave yet and miss the sunrise if you do not wish to” |
| Deleted User | 2 Oct 2008, 01:03 AM Post #4 |
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Milo halted in his path and turned his head slowly towards the Elf. The voice was so beautiful it had sent chills running up and down his spine. The Hobbit pictured bells chiming in a high breeze over the Brandywine. Tears swam in his eyes when he thought of how many Elves had left Middle-earth. “Oh …” Milo flushed scarlet. Why had he been asking pardon? For being born a Hobbit? For being dragged on an adventure he’d not expected? For being less than Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo? “… I was leaving of my own accord. The sunrise … it’s not to my liking with these thoughts my head.” The Hobbit glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes interrogating the blood red mountains. Merry and Pippin had willingly ridden into their shadow. Sam and Frodo had gone inside the mountains’ treacherous embrace. Why couldn’t he, Milo, even get up the courage to saddle Sable and map the Pelennor? He breathed out a sigh of disappointment in himself and turned back to the Elf. “I am Milo, son of Mungo. I come from Bucklebury in Buckland, within the borders of the Shire. I’ve never ventured beyond Bree … until now. I know the story of those Mountains of Shadow.” In a smaller voice, he added, as if ashamed, “But it’s no more than that to me.” |
| Deleted User | 5 Oct 2008, 02:40 PM Post #5 |
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Elladan nodded and turned to glance to the rising sun and observe it briefly for himself. It was a beautiful sight, but the Elf could see as to why someone would not like to watch it, if their mind was occupied with other matters. “I can see what you mean,” he started before turning his attention back to the hobbit. “But after the striking reds and firey oranges, comes the cooling greens and yellows, followed by the pure blue of the sky that I have not seen in many years” No, he could not remember the closest date of when the sky had been so clear, it had certainly not been for many ages. Looking to the hobbit once again, Elladan blinked a couple of times, trying to remember where he had heard the place Buckland before, he knew it was in the Shire, an therefore was linked to the four hobbits that his father had sent to Mordor with a fellowship. But he could not quite remember where it was, still, he doubted it mattered, he knew where it was, “Greetings, Milo, son of Mungo. I am Elladan, and I would think you to be incredibly brave to venture past your home to places that many people are still very cautious of.” Especially since Gondor was so close to Mordor, the evil may have been extinguished, but there were many who held a fear of being so close to the place, and Elladan could see why. Old feelings died hard, it seemed. |
| Deleted User | 6 Oct 2008, 02:43 PM Post #6 |
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Even as the Elf described the changing colors of the sky, the crimson of sunrise turned into a gentle yellow. Milo had the strangest notion that it was the Elf’s words that had altered the color painting the mountains. “You are well met, Elladan.” The Hobbit gave a small bow, but as he had forgotten the traditional greeting among Elves, he left out any other gesture, not wanting to make himself look foolish or inadvertently offend Elladan. “Brave had little to do with it,” Milo admitted. “I saw something, which my travelling companion insisted her King would need to hear of. I came because I felt a sense of duty. And,” Milo added, quietly, “I thought I might find myself in one of Bilbo’s stories. But we’re only ever in our own story, and I’m afraid mine is not as epic as his.” Milo’s eyes flickered back to the mountains and focused on the spot where he imagined the spit of flame might have been, but he could not know if he was off by an inch or a mile. “But I suppose I should be glad of that and not wistful.” |
| Deleted User | 12 Oct 2008, 12:39 AM Post #7 |
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Smiling lightly and returning his gaze to the sky, Elladan allowed his bright eyes to fill with the color of the abyss freedom that was the above. Glancing back t his company, the Elf fpund himself blinking before shaking his head. “There is little need for such formalities” he spoke softly, but gave a small bow in return, his hands soon retuning to the white wall that he stood against. He listened carefully, finding the words interesting, if somewhat worrying when there were things that Estel needed to be alerted to. “Oh, my friend” he began with a small smile. “Tis not wise to compare one’s stories to another. You have yet to have you tale, I am sure of it, and I am equally sure that one day, you will not be n one of Bibo’s stories, but he shall be telling them of you. You’e taken the first step out of the Shire, there’s so much for you to do before you travel back” He glanced behind him and back to Mordor with a sour expression, before he quickly wiped it from his face. “No, I think, if anything, that could be one part of your adventure you could be happy to not have in it.” |
| Deleted User | 13 Oct 2008, 01:42 PM Post #8 |
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Milo nodded gravely, understanding Elladan’s meaning. He turned away from Mordor again. The word “adventure” conjured the ideas of heroism and bravery, but also of light-hearted games of derring-do. The quest to destroy the One Ring certainly had not been an adventure. It had been a mission. “Yes, of course. Of course. My tale has certainly begun, but … I’m afraid the middle is a bit muddled,” he said, laughing lightly. The elf’s words ignited hope in Milo. Much to do before he traveled back? He liked the sound of that. There might be secrets to unearth, treasure to find, and evil minions to defeat. Just like in the yarns he spun for Hobbit children. “I think you’re quite right,” he said, standing up a bit straighter. “There’s no telling where the river leads today, much less tomorrow. I suppose you learned that awhile ago, but you’ll forgive me for forgetting, I hope. I’ve seen fifty-five years, but I’ll need fifty-five more to always heed the lessons my father taught me.” |
| Deleted User | 20 Oct 2008, 10:01 PM Post #9 |
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Grinning brightly and leaning back against the wall with a fond glance to the ever changing sky, pupils dilating as the light from the sunrise filled them. Looking back to Milo with a short laugh, Elladan shook his head and ran a hand through his hair before speaking softly, and reassuringly. “Muddled? Just because everything is not in order, or does not have complete meaning, does not mean it is a muddled, wrong or bad story, it simply means that not everything has ended yet” He smiled lightly at the small little bit of hope that seemed to be lit within the small being. That was what the world needed, after all, more hope, there would never be enough of it. Not in Elladan’s mind, anyway. “Even I sometimes forget such things, everyone may forget at some point in their lives, all they really need, is for someone to remind them and nudge them back onto that path” Smiling brightly with a lower of his head, Elladan smiled. “And after you heed those lessons, you will always have the chance to learn even more, about life, the world, these races, everything.” |
| Deleted User | 27 Oct 2008, 01:39 PM Post #10 |
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Milo flushed slightly and turned his head down. He felt young and foolish in comparison to Elladan’s hundreds or thousands of years worth of wisdom. This was the other part of leaving the Shire—discovering things one did not know that one did not know. “This leg of my own story is shortly to come to an end. I think I should return to the Shire soon.” The journey south had not been as interesting as it might have been. They had been rushed, wanting to deliver their news as quickly as possible. The way back north could hold more for Milo than a quick blur of endless days of travel. “You know, I was born not too many years after Bilbo returned from his journey to the Lonely Mountain. I grew up hearing his stories. On my own adventure, I didn’t get to see a single one of the places I’d meant to visit. I’d very much like to see Rivendell yet, and the Trollshaws too, on my way back home.” |
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