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chaussetteblanche · 3 years

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just like the wind (part i)

PART ONE

summary: you and your friend wait for some unsuspecting visitors in the Prancing Pony

word count: 1'368

warnings: none I think, but tell me if you see any

Your hair falls in front of your face as you glare at the life around you. "They were meant to be here hours ago. Are you even sure they're coming?" you ask hotly, glowering at your friend. You do not like waiting. Especially not in here, of all places. Dwarves, Men and other creatures seem to like being copped up in a bar with the smell of beer and smoke filling their nostrils. You, on the other hand, do not. Not at all. "Yes, I'm sure. Gandalf told me to meet them here. He, apparently, was delayed." Strider grumbles, just as annoyed with the Hobbits' late arrival as you are. Your slim fingers curl around the hilt of your favourite dagger as you observe the four smaller-than-average creatures enter the bar/Inn. You nudge your friend and jolt your chin in the direction of the small party. Strider's gaze follows yours and he sends you a nod. They were now sat down and talking quickly in hushed whispers. He nods and takes his pipe out, loosely placing it between his lips. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his attitude. You lean back further into your seat and fold your arms in front of your chest, watching the hour halflings closely.

The Hobbit sitting next to Frodo whispers something to him. Your grey eyes catch the Ring Bearer's blue orbs as he sends you and Strider an anxious look. You push your head back further into your large hood, letting the shadows fall on your face, slightly concealing it. As the bartender passes by the Hobbits' table, Frodo reaches out and stops him. "Excuse me, those two in the corner, who are they?" he asks, his eyes nervously flitting over to the both of you. You can't hear exactly what he is saying, but with your elf hearing and lip-reading skills, you can take a pretty good guess at his words. The bartender raises his eyebrows until they reach his hairline. "They're two of them Rangers. Dangerous folk they are. Wander in the wilds. What is frightening, is that I've never heard of them around here. Strider and Ira." he whispers as if he was scared of even saying their names out loud. You are distracted by another man who keeps staring at you and Strider to notice a Hobbit leave the table and head to the bar. Soon enough, he starts stupidly hollering around the room, answering the man that had been staring. "BAGGINS? SURE, I KNOW A BAGGINS! HE'S OVER THERE! FRODO BAGGINS! He's my second cousin once removed on his mother's side..." The idiotic Hobbit continued telling the strangers about the Ring Bearer, unknowing of how thoughtless he was being. Frodo seems to understand that yelling out his name was maybe not such a good idea since he gets up and runs to the other Hobbit talking to the strange men. He grabs his shoulder, but slips and falls on the dirty, liquidy floor. The ring falls out of his grasp and into the air. You immediately shoot up and Strider sits up straighter. The ring falls back right onto his finger, turning the young Hobbit invisible. A collective gasp is heard. Strider takes in a sharp breath as he shoots up. You are already on it, grabbing the invisible Hobbit's arm. You and Strider drag him up to a room of the Inn. The other Ranger lets go of him and pushes him rather harshly on the floor. "You're bringing far too much attention to yourself, 'Mr. Underhill'," he warns coldly. Frodo takes the ring off and slips it safely into his pocket. "What do you want?" he demands shakily as he stands up. "A little more caution from you, that is no trinket you carry," you answer simply, staring down at him with a frown. Strider starts putting out all of the candles. "I carry nothing." Frodo denies as if you hadn't dragged him up a row of stairs while he was totally invisible. "Indeed," you snort, "I can avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift." "Who are you?" he asks feebly. You ignore his question. "Are you frightened?" Strider asks from where he stands, looking out of the window. "Yes," the Hobbit replies hesitantly. "Not nearly frightened enough." Strider purses his lips. "We know what hunts you," you elaborate, your lips curling into a

sneer at the thought of the Nazgûl. Seemingly out of nowhere, three Hobbits burst into the room. You drew your sword in a flash and point it at the middle one's throat. He swallows before yelling out: "Let him go or I'll have you long-shanks!" You sheath your sword and snort again. "Oh no! Now we're done for!" you mock. Strider sends you a disapproving look. "You have a stout heart, little Hobbit, but that will not save you. Ring Bearer," Strider turns to the dark-haired halfling, "you can no longer wait for the wizard." You nod along to his words, all traces of previous amusement now gone: "They are coming." Strider walks the Hobbits to another room, where you all would be spending the night, but you stay behind for a moment. You stuff everything you can find (pillows, blankets, books and candles) under the sheets of the four beds, making them look like bodies before you run off to meet the others. When you get back to the room, all of the Hobbits seem to be asleep. Strider is looking out the window. "They'll be here soon," he stated. You place a firm hand on his shoulder. "We have done all that we cold. Sleep, you need to rest. I will stand guard," you say softly. "I can take the-" he tried to argue but you cut him off with a shake of your head. "Sleep, my friend. I can never properly rest anyway." you reason. Strider nods and pulls his hood on. He falls asleep quickly. You sit on a stool, looking up at the stars thoughtfully. Your elf ears perceive the sound of Frodo twisting and turning in his bed. He sits up and rubs his face. You realize that he never fell asleep. "You should try to sleep, Frodo, a long journey awaits us tomorrow. You should rest while you can," you advise, keeping your eyes trained on the dark sky. "Well, I know, but I'm sleeping in the same room as you and Strider, and to be honest it's quite scary," he confesses, wringing his hands together. "Why is it scary?" you ask softly. "Well, you are Ira," he reminds you sheepishly, as if you could ever forget. "Ah, of course. I am a legend. A horror story," you smile sarcastically. "You are the story parents tell their children when they won't behave," he adds. "And who told you that?" you question, not denying the facts. "The bartender." You hum. "And do you not think that if we wanted you dead we would have already killed you?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in his direction. He does not answer. "Well, there you have your answer. But I promise you, Ring Bearer, that we only wish to get you to safety, you and your little friends," you continue. He nods: "You can call me Frodo, Miss." You nod: "Alice." He finally goes to sleep a few minutes later. Your shoulders tense when you hear the Ring-Wraiths' cries. The four Hobbits and Strider shoot up from their previously relaxed positions. You don't even need to spare them a glance to know the Hobbits are terrified. As they rightfully should be. "What are they?" Frodo asks in a frightened whisper. "They were once men," you say, staring holes into the room's door, "Great kings of men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now, they are slaves to his way up. They are the Nine Wraiths. The Ring Wraiths. Neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring. Drawn to the power of the one, they will never stop hunting you."

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagine #tolkien #legolas #legolas greenleaf #legolas x reader #legolas one shot #justlikethewind #legolas x you #legolas imagine

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ekrnaa · 5 years

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chaussetteblanche · 3 years

Text

just like the wind (part iii)

PART THREE

summary: trying to save Frodo's life, you separate from the group

word count: 1'655

warnings: fight scene, frodo being sick

Ira, n.

Wrath, anger, rage, fury

(Translated from Latin)

You travelled non-stop until you were about a day from Rivendell. You were, not literally but very figuratively, dying. You probably looked just as bad as Frodo, if not worse.

The purple bags under your eyes were a reminder of all the nights you had spent walking instead of sleeping. You had been too selfless and had not taken enough food for both you and Frodo and had naturally given it all to him, which lead to the colour draining from your slightly hollowed cheeks. You had acquired even more bruises (and quite a nasty cut) from a very conveniently timed wild-boar attack.

You reach a river a promptly collapse after gently laying Frodo down. You splash some water onto your dirty face before helping Frodo drink out of your hands. You freeze when you hear a small crunch of leaves behind you.

Your sword is drawn in less than a second, pointing at the potential attacker's throat. Your eyes finally meet the face of- Arwen, your friend. You let out a deep breath of relief as your sword falls to the ground.

"My apologies, I thought you were another wild boar," you admit, picking your sword off the ground and placing it in its sheath.

She laughs softly before pulling you into a warm embrace. "Do not fret, my friend, no harm done! How have you been? It's been decades!"

"It has been!" you agree, returning the touch before pulling away, "But before we rejoice, I may need your help," you motion to Frodo with a bruised hand. "Can you do anything?"

Arwen hums and takes a step closer to the frail body of the Hobbit. She gracefully kneels next to him and starts chanting an unfamiliar song. She slowly shakes her head with a frown.

"This is beyond me. He needs my father," she declares, standing up.

"I'll come with you." you decide, getting Frodo off the ground and placing him on her horse.

"I am a faster rider," Arwen tries to reason, but you shake your head.

"Yes, I am more than aware of that," you say, wordlessly referring to the countless races you and her had had. "I am also aware of how difficult, and near impossible, to fight off the Wraiths while holding on to Frodo to assure he does not fall off a galloping horse," you argue.

She reluctantly nods her head. You had a point.

"Before we go, I must just fetch something," you mumble, more to yourself than her, but she seems to understand as she goes to check on Frodo. You take a few steps backwards and finally recognize the sweet scent of Athelas leaves. You had been applying some to Frodo's wounds for the last few days in a desperate attempt at keeping the poison from reaching his heart.

You quickly grab a few handfuls and shove them into your mouth. You walk back to where Frodo was sitting in front of Arwen on her horse. You hurriedly chew the leaves before spitting them out on your fingers. You lather the thick, sticky paste to Frodo's wound before heading back to your own horse.

For the majority of the journey, you do not see the Wraiths. You were actually starting to think that you may reach Rivendell without a surprise visit from the Riders, but were soon proved wrong.

The first screech you heard made your skin crawl and your mind race. Maybe you hadn't thought this through completely. Fighting off the Wraiths? All nine of them? At the same time? While on a horse? Galloping at full speed? This was with no doubt not your brightest moment, Strider definitely would have agreed. It was thoughtless and reckless and absolutely insane, but it had to work. The Ring Bearer's life depended on it.

No pressure.

Your sword violently meets the first Rider's blade when he came out of the woods from behind you. You keep one hand on the rain of the horse between your legs and slash at him again. You are pushed to the side by another one and almost lose your balance. You curse before pulling yourself back up and narrowly dodging a what-could-have-been-fatal jab at your middle. You aimlessly swing your sword around you, trying to keep them all at a distance. You perceive the river marking the entrance of Rivendell and a surge of hope flies through you. Maybe you could hold them off until then.

In that mere second of distraction, you forget to steer the brainless animal beneath you and pull the rains just seconds before he slams into a tree. You groan out in pain when you feel multiple branches tearing through your skin.

As you dodge another blow from a Wraith, you make a promise to yourself to never, ever help another Hobbit. If this was what it meant to help a Hobbit, you didn't want to anymore.

Arwen stops in the river and starts to chant. You don't stop to see the river all but destroy the Wraiths as grab Frodo off your friend's horse.

You pull him in front of you with a grunt and head for the castle.

You ignore the indignant cries of the guards as you gallop into the main Hall. You ungracefully clamber off your horse and throw your hands up in surrender at all the guards aiming their bows at you.

"The Ring Bearer!" you exclaim, "He's been stabbed by a Nazgûl blade!" You turn to Elrond, who had arrived to see what all the commotion was about. "He needs healing, My Lord!" You pull Frodo into your arms and hand him over to a guard. He runs off, followed closely by Elrond.

Another guard takes your horse away but before he can leave you, you ask him where you could find Gandalf. He tells you the wizard arrived a few days ago and is probably on the balcony.

You take in a deep breath and march over to said balcony. You find him sitting on a bench next to an old Hobbit, leisurely smoking his pipe.

You can feel the rage bubble up in you as you remember all of what you had to go through while he was relaxing here.

"Where have you been?" you demand, crossing your arms over your chest, a deep frown making its way to your face.

The two old men take in your appearance silently. Your hair had multiple pieces of unknown substances (noticeably mud and blood). Your usually clear face was now orned of fresh cuts (you had a tree and a horse to thank for those) and dried blood. Your clothes were full of mud and blood and could barely even be considered as such anymore, considering how much they had been ripped and abused. All in all, you looked you had been swallowed and spat back out by Sauron himself.

"I was delayed," the old wizard answered infuriatingly calmly.

"Delayed? You were delayed?" you spat, unbelieving.

"Well, yes, that is what I said," he answered, a small, daring smile on his lips.

"It was a rhetorical question!" you fume, almost pulling your hair out of frustration. "I have been thrown over a hill! Thrown! Over! A! Hill! Have you ever been thrown over a hill like a child's toy? Don't answer that! I don't think you have! It's not very pleasant, as one can assume! I rolled off the same hill! Like a barrel! I have not slept in a week! Seven days, Gandalf! Seven days! Do you know how many hours that is? No? Well, I do! That's 168 hours! And to top it all off, my skin was ripped apart by a tree! A tree! All because a darned horse couldn't walk straight! I had to fight off nine Wraiths! While on that same, stupid horse! While it was galloping! And you're sitting here smoking your bloody pipe without a care in the world telling me you were delayed! I can't believe you! And to top it all off! I risked my life for four total strangers because my friend followed your instructions! Instructions you were supposed to follow yourself, may I remind you!" you roar furiously.

Gandalf blows out a few smoke rings before answering you with the same calmness. "I asked Strider to bring the Hobbits to Rivendell. Not Ira,"

"I didn't have a choice! He would have died as well as the Hobbits if I hadn't gone!" you cry.

"Then it's a good thing you made the decision to follow your friend," he says. You let out a sound very close to a growl before leaving, done with his attitude.

Gandalf leans back into the bench and inhaled a puff of smoke. Bilbo chuckles.

"Well that was certainly something," he notes. Gandalf hums.

"She is something," he agrees.

"You said her name was Ira?" Bilbo questions curiously.

"That is what she is called, yes, but her name is actually Alice,"

"Oh, that's a rather sweet name," Bilbo compliments, "I'm not too sure it resonates well with her personality, though," he adds, exhaling some smoke into the air.

"She can be sweet when she wants to be," Gandalf assures. Bilbo hums.

"She is an elf, yes?"

"Half-elf, half-man," the wizard corrects.

"Oh, yes, that explains her temper, then," Bilbo murmurs.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I see elves as a rather calm and collected kin. Not as- as expressive as she seems to be," Bilbo chooses his words carefully, noting how Gandlad still seemed quite fond of her after what she had done.

"Yes, she's got quite a temper on her, that one. But I do not think that her being a full elf would change much... And she didn't earn the name 'Ira' for nothing, after all," the wizard reminds. Bilbo nods along to his words, peacefully exhaling the smoke into the faint wind.

#lord of the rings #lotr imagine #lotr #tolkien #legolas imagine #legolas x you #legolas one shot #legolas greenleaf #legolas x reader #legolas #justlikethewind

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chaussetteblanche · 3 years

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just like the wind (part ii)

PART TWO

summary: trying to get the hobbits to safety, you run into some trouble

word count: 1'572

warnings: violence

"Where are you taking us?" Frodo asks as he trails behind Strider and you.

"Into the wild," Strider answers, not bothering to turn back.

A supposed-to-be-discreet-but-not-so-discreet conversation starts between the four Hobbits not long after.

"How can we know these Rangers are friends of Gandalf?" Merry ask with rightful suspicion.

"We have no choice but to trust them," Frodo states truthfully.

"But where are they leading us?" Sam wonders.

"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee," you answer, "to the House of Elrond."

"You hear that?" Sam breathed. "Rivendell. We're going to see the elves!" he cries excitedly. You once again resist the urge to roll your eyes, he had been travelling with one for about a day. But then it came to you, the Hobbits had never completely seen your face: your hood was always up.

Your small companionship walked for a bit more before you stopped for a second, catching your breath and grimacing at the weight of your weapons pulling you down. Strider stands next to you and looks back: "Gentlemen, we do not stop 'till nightfall," he calls. Confused at his words, you turn around as well and let out a small chuckle. They were adorable. The four Hobbits were sitting on the ground, unpacking their bags, probably wanting to get some food.

"What about breakfast?" Pippin asks, an indignant frown on his face.

"Well you've just had it." you furrow your brows, confused.

"We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?" Pippin continues, raising an eyebrow. Strider sends him a strange glance and continues his path down the hill. You shake your heads at the four halflings with an amused smile before following your friend.

"I don't think they know about second breakfast, Pip," Merry notes as he picks up his bag.

"What about elvensies? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? They know about those, don't they?" Pippin panicked, hastily grabbing his bag.

"I wouldn't count on it," Merry sighs. You chuckle at their conversation and throw each of the Hobbits an apple from a nearby tree.

When the night starts to fall, you stop at the bottom of a small hill with the remains of a Tower on its peak.

"This was the great watchtower of Amon Sûl," you say, starting to walk up its side.

"We shall rest here tonight," Strider adds. You decide together to split the night in half, both taking turns of keeping watch while the other would scout the woods for any possible threat. You start the first round and begin your stroll around the base of the hill.

It is only when you hear the all-too-familiar shrieks of the Nine Riders that you start running up the hill. You can feel the panic rising in your being. Strider had given the Hobbits some weapons, but what use would they have if they do not know how to wield them? You run faster, hearing your heart beating in your ears. After what feels like forever but was probably only actually only seconds, you finally reach the top of the hill and immediately put yourself between the helpless Hobbits and the Riders.

You pull out your sword and jab at the one closest to the Hobbits. You slash at another. Dodge another one's blade. You manage to keep them off for a few victorious minutes, but that changes when the Riders decide that to get to the Hobbits, they had to get rid of you first. Everything changes and all of a sudden, all of their blows are aimed at you. You dodge, block and try to counter-attack, but nine monsters against one elleth, you knew you stood no chance.

It is no surprise when you block a jab at your neck and are suddenly pushed out of the way. You fall to the ground with a pained grunt. A foot comes down near your face and you roll out of the way just on time. You pull yourself to your knees just in time to be picked up and literally thrown off the hill.

You scream for the few seconds that you spend in the air before getting the breath knocked out of you when you plummet on the ground with a harsh 'thump'. And so you start to roll. You roll down the hill like a bloody rag doll. You can't properly breathe until you reach the horizontal ground.

You lay flat on your back, trying to force the air down your lungs for a second. You can feel everything. Your skimmed knees, your bruised elbows, the cut on your forehead, your bleeding nose...

You remember the Hobbits and sit up with a jolt. You wipe the blood running from your nose on your sleeve and try to stand up- only to fall to the ground again.

The little tumble and roll had messed with your inner ear and therefore, your balance. You try to stand again and stumble on the spot for a second. When you can more or less walk, you clumsily make your way back up the hill. You push yourself to get there as fast as you can, all things considered, but you are too late.

Sam is kneeling on the ground next to Frodo as Strider, who is now holding a torch, is fighting to keep the Riders off. You immediately join him and start slashing at them with your sword. You manage to fight four off the Tower as Strider sets fire to the other five. Their screams make your blood curl.

When they are finally gone, you expect to be met with silence and panting from Strider. Instead, you are met with the pained cries of Frodo.

"Strider! Ira!" Sam calls. "Help him!"

You kneel beside the halfling, ignoring the pain in your knees, and take a look at his wound as Strider picks up the blade he was stabbed with. The blade of the sword turns to ash the second his hands touch it. Strider is left with only the hilt.

"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," you explain, "this is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine." Strider nods and picks him up, Frodo still groaning in pain.

You all start hastily walking towards Rivendell and more importantly, far away from the Wraiths that were after you. Strider was making sure Frodo didn't fall off the horse while you held a torch, illuminating the path.

"But we're six days from Rivendell! He'll never make it!" Sam claims, voicing your thoughts. You don't answer, knowing he is right. Strider doesn't reply either. Sam seems to lose hope as he uselessly cries Gandalf's name into the wind. You stop as the night falls.

You turn to Strider: "If we want Frodo to have any chances of surviving, we shouldn't stop and continue until we get to Rivendell."

"That's far too dangerous," Strider argues.

"It's the only way. The poison travels extremely fast," you insist. "We won't stop and the Riders won't be able to reach us. It's the better option,"

"Look at them!" Strider snapped. "They're not made for this! They have about ten meals a day! You can't expect them to walk non-stop for six days, can you? They're stay at home creatures, they're no Rangers! Even less are they Elves!" he cried. The Hobbits sent you strange looks, realizing that you were, in fact, an elf.

"I am not relying on their strength, I am relying on their determination and their will for their friend to survive," you spit, your temper flaring. You turn to the Hobbits. "We will barely stop. We're running out of food. We're being chased by Wraiths. Make your choice."

Merry and Pippin exchange panicked looks, unsure of what to say. "Look, all I know is that we're wasting time, here! We'll ride!" Sam exclaims. You nod and send him a small smile. You admired his heart. You start to pick up what you had installed of a camp.

"This is what always gets you in trouble," Strider hisses, "You never think about the consequences!"

"Oh, I deeply apologize for not wanting the Ring Bearer to die!" you huff sarcastically. "The way I see it, either we ride slowly and stop at night and Frodo dies or we ride fast, no stops, as night too and Frodo lives!"

"So you would prefer the other three Hobbits to die instead?" Strider whisper-yells. You shake your head at him: "Well what other solution do you have?" He doesn't answer.

You stopped three days later to rest for the night, despite your constant protests. You had found a relatively safe-looking spot and soon, the three Hobbits were far away in the land of Sleep. You turn to Strider with a cold stare: "I'll take the first guard, I'll wake you up in a few hours." He nods. He hadn't been talking much to you since your disagreement.

Once you are sure he is asleep, you pack your bag with a small amount of food (making sure the four others still had some) for Frodo and yourself. You write a little note explaining your departure to Strider before you haul Frodo onto your back and just before you are out of sight, you throw a twig at Merry.

He shoots up and shakes Strider awake. Strider looks around before finding your note and pursing his lips.

You turn away and disappear into the night, not aware of the troubles ahead of you.

#lord of the rings #lotr imagine #lotr #tolkien #legolas imagine #legolas x you #legolas one shot #legolas greenleaf #legolas x reader #legolas #justlikethewind

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