lo all…thanks for reading. Now, I tried to go by the book as best I can…So if I make a mistake don't kill me just make a comment and I'll make sure that I get it in the next chapter or story. This is, I hope, the beginning of a series. I love constructive criticism and lot's of ideas. I want to know what you think so make sure you leave a comment…or not.
I read in the books that Legolas has only one knife. How did other people get two out of that? Any hoo…I put that he only has one. I e-mailed one person…but I want to know if any of you know of a good Sindarin translator? Good Lord! I've spent hours trying to find one, and the only solution I found it to actually learn the language, and I'm pretty close to trying.
Disclaimer: Regretfully, I do not own any of the characters of Middle Earth. They belong to Mr. Tolkien. With the exception of original characters.
Summary: Legolas and Aragorn are away on a hunting trip, trying to escape the boredom of late summer. The adventure will relieve them of the peaceful monotony, and plunge them into an journey that is anything but passive. (non- slash)
The brightly shinning sun filtered through the trees like clear water pouring from some secluded falls. A previous rain had washed away the heavy dry dust that rose from the ground and rotting logs on the forest floor and left the air tingling with the sent of it's refreshing fragrance. The loam that thickly carpeted the wood was an intricate pattern of various tracks from every animal imaginable. One set of prints, however faint, were made not by animal, but by man. The imprints were nearly light enough to be an elf's but a certain heaviness marked them for what they were. Aragorn son of Arathorn, known to men as strider, and to elves as Estel, stood crouched behind a tree. The arrow that was fitted into the bow he had drawn, was pointed at the heart of a doe grazing in a small glen. He allowed himself a small smile, he had been tracking the doe for a better part of the day, biding his time until he could make a clean kill. Aragorn pulled the bowstring back a little farther to make sure that the string was perfectly taught. Just the though of a venison steak made his stomach grumble. Banishing all thought the young man drew in a deep breath and prepared to let the arrow fly. But a rustle in the trees surrounding them made the deer look up into the foliage and take a few steps, taking it out of killing range. Strider cursed silently and took a hesitant step that would put his prey back in line with the bolt that would take it's life. The treetops swayed and a harsh birdcall caused the watchful doe to tense up and run from the glen ,bounding gracefully through the forest.
Aragorn cursed and let the arrow fly into a tree. He groaned and stepped angrily into the clearing, warily watching the trees. One swayed, as if touched by a gentle breeze, though none blew. Aragorn had every sense tuned to hear everything, slowly he crept to the center of the clearing. Musical laughter echoed behind him, sounding like a crystal wind chime. The young dúnadan whirled around to find nothing there. Then, someone tapped him on the shoulder and Aragorn turned to meet the smiling face of an elf. The elf was, in fact, Aragorn best friend, Legolas.
"you scared our dinner away elf." growled Aragorn, good naturedly.
He had known that the call had been the elf. They had used it on many occasions for an alert. Legolas Smiled, then in mock anger turned his back on Aragorn and exclaimed,
"Humans, the only creatures that would hunt more than they can consume just for sport."
Aragorn shook his head somewhat ruefully, for he knew that the elf spoke truth, but it was also a jest. He knew that it was meant to goad him into a playful argument and he would not give up without a fight. Legolas would have him live on an elvish diet all of the time, had not Aragorn put a stop to it. If indeed Legolas meant to scare off all of the game, what was the point of a hunting trip? Taking advantage of Legolas's turned back, Aragorn gave him a shove. Legolas nimbly eluded the shove as if the quick sidestep was what he meant to do all along.
"We could have smoked the rest of it and would not have cause to hunt for our dinner every night." Aragorn countered.
"Or, we could have hunted every night. From what I see, you enjoy it." Legolas's smile grew as he and Strider's battle of words grew more heated.
"Oh… and what would you have me hunt for? Tubers and berries?" Aragorn replied, having a hard time maintaining the scowl that darkened his face.
"Only because you suggested it." Legolas dodged a teasing cuff from Aragorn and dashed through the forest heading back to camp with all the grace the doe had managed.
Estel moved after the elf at a decisively slower pace. Having spent most of his childhood In the care of his foster father, the half elven Lord, Elrond, Estel had grown up to be more fluid that any other human could ever hope to be. Although he could never be compared with his brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, or any other elf, the young Dúnadan did possess a certain skill.
Needless to say, Legolas beat Aragorn to the camp. By the time he got back to camp Aragorn's stomach could be heard by Legolas, who, with a mock bow of respect, handed over two plump pheasants.
"I feared what you may resort to if I did bring back berries to satisfy your belly." ginned Legolas.
"Then let us be glad that you did not, mellon nin."
Aragorn unsheathed his hunting knife to clean the birds with. This part was the least favorite part of hunting your own meal. But not even plucking the pheasants or the messy job of gutting them could turn the rangers stomach.
He called to Legolas, who was sitting next to the fire that the elf prince had been stoking throughout the day in Aragorn's absence in hunting, cleaning and checking his weapons. Legolas owned a long white handled knife and a magnificent longbow. He had been in the middle of sharpening the knife on a small whetstone he kept in a pocket when the ranger hailed him.
"Legolas, is there a stream near by, I trust that you would not camp us far from water?"
"Aye, mellon nin, I would indeed rest close to water. There is one not far off through the trees. Do you require my help to find it?" Asked Legolas, starting to rise from his seat on the ground.
"Nay, I am not completely incompetent, I am a ranger." grinned Aragorn.
"You are but a child, young ranger." Exclaimed Legolas as Aragorn started to head for the stream.
"I'm not finished with you yet, elf." Called Aragorn over one shoulder.
The stream was small, with water so clear that you could see well the tiny pebbles that sprinkled the bottom. The grassy bank was all well and good, but it did not suit Aragorn's purpose. He had to search a while before he found what he desired. Hopping the undersized rivulet, he spied a muddy riverbank. Sighing with relief that he had finally found one he crouched down and proceeded to thoroughly coat each of the pheasants with the sticky mud. When they were nothing but large balls of gooey bank clay he started to make his way back to camp with his and Legolas's dinner.
Legolas had been waiting for Aragorn to return. His appetite was not the same as his human companion's, but it would be nice to have a hot dinner. What he did not expect, though, was for Aragorn to come back holding two unappetizing balls of mud.
Seeing Legolas's grimace of disgust, Aragorn quickly dropped the two balls onto the ring of stones that surrounded the fire and tried to explain his actions. The ranger buried the pheasants in the glowing coals of the campfire. Legolas raised a thin eyebrow and smirked at Aragorn.
"Clever, Aragorn." he praised the ranger and settled back to wait for the food to cook.
Aragorn sat next to his friend and stared up at the growing darkness in the sky. The trees partially hid the view, but it did nothing to take away the beauty of it. Some early stars were beginning to radiate their light. They were the light of the dark, such as a lantern light's the dim shadows of a room. The young dúnadan watched with a warm smile as Legolas's gray eye's peered with an amazing light all of their own into the havens to take all the pleasure a night sky could give an elf.
Reluctant to disturb Legolas, but still hungry enough to eat both pheasants, Aragorn contemplated his options. Before he could act, though, Legolas tore his gaze away for the benefit of Aragorn and his rumbling stomach.
"Are they ready Aragorn?"
Aragorn smiled his thanks and prodded them.
"I think so."
Careful not to burn himself, Aragorn scooped the now black clay balls out of the fire coals with two pieces of firewood. He set them down and rolled one to Legolas. The elf was perplexed. How did he get the meat out? He looked over to Aragorn and saw him take his knife and use the handle to crack the ball down the center. It split open in a cloud of steam to reveal a perfectly cooked dinner inside. Blowing on it some, the ranger picked at his with the end of his knife so that he might be able to get a bite.
Legolas copied Aragorn's silent instruction, and was soon enjoying the bird himself. Through a mouthful, the elf questioned Aragorn
"Where did you learn to cook this way?"
"We used to cook almost every kind of meat this way when I traveled with other rangers, or if I was by myself." answered Strider watching the elf nod his appreciation for the new information.
Later, when all of the stars were shining brightly like a velvet blanket embroidered with jewels, both were settled by the fire.
"This was a truly magnificent idea, mellon nin." Legolas sighed
"mmmmm…yes, pity we did not think of it sooner." Aragorn replied, closing his eyes and letting the luminosity from the fire dance across his face.
Legolas propped himself up on an elbow to look at Aragorn. "Do you not remember Aragorn? We did think of it, but your father forbade us."
A gin stretched across Estel's features and he laughed "Which is why we are not going home for a few weeks. Father's temper will have cooled by them. If he get's worried he will always send out my brothers."
Legolas fell back, his melodious laughter mingling with the deeper chuckles of Aragorn. A shower of sparks were sent up into the sky when a log fell in the fire. The tiny glimmers were like night wisps gently floating on the breeze until burned out by the same wind that far below fanned the father flame of the campfire.