TITLE: Just a Dream
ARAGORNANGST PROMPT: #163: Scream (499 words)
CHARACTERS: Aragorn, Elrond
WORLD: More Movie-verse
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em, drat it. Many thanks to Professor Tolkien for creating these wonderful souls to populate my imagination.
Wearily, Estel closed his eyes. He'd been awake for hours, unable to sleep after his latest dream had disturbed his rest so completely. Lately, he'd found himself dreaming more than usual, and more vividly. Sometimes, the dreams were peaceful, sometimes not, but always seeming to be so real.
Lately his dreams had been populated by faces he recognized. He'd dreamed of fishing a quiet brook with Elrohir and Elladan. Another had Ada hearing him recite his lessons, beaming with pride at his scholarship. Yet another saw his mother much younger, her beauty fresh and crisp as a newly thawed spring.
But recently he'd seen a man who reminded him of someone, someone he felt he should know. This man was bearded, with shoulder-length dark hair shot with grey to match his eyes, like stormclouds gathering over Imladris in winter. He was big and broad, and handled a broadsword with ease… How strong he must be to carry a sword that looked every bit as long as Narsil had been! Estel marveled. He remembered the wonderful stories he'd been told about Elendil the Tall, and the mighty blade he carried…
Oh, go back to sleep! he told himself sternly, and rolled over, pounding his pillow into submission below his sixteen-year-old head. His mind relaxed and images of dancing young ellith filled his mind. He sighed, contented, and mentally danced along with them, smiling as he dropped off into a comfortable sleep.
He dreamed of dancing with a particularly beautiful, raven-haired elleth. The dance grew frantic, the steps and arm positions flying, and he found himself suddenly desperate to keep up. In a heartbeat, the dance changed. Swiftly, the dancers became Orcs, and he now wielded a sword as he spun, dancing in and out, skillfully defending himself and slaying Orcs as they swarmed around him, some on foot, some mounted on wargs.
Estel gaped in amazement to see his friend, Legolas, involved in the fight, as well as, to his fascination, a dwarf who was astoundingly fast and deadly with his axe. This has to be a dream, he thought wildly, the presence of the dwarf confirms it!
Next he knew, a mounted Orc was upon him. He fought him off, but somehow his arm tangled in the warg's girth and he was dragged, his back hammering painfully against the stones he was hauled over. Abruptly there was nothing beneath him, and he and the Warg were falling… falling….
"Estel! Estel, wake! It is I, Ada!"
Heart hammering, sweat pouring, Estel gasped as awoke, gripping Elrond's robes in his fists frantically. "A—Ada?" he croaked. "… What… ?"
"Shhhhhh." Elrond stroked back his son's tangled hair gently, sending healing energy to the boy. "I heard you scream and came to you. Are you well, child?"
Estel closed his eyes in relief. That one was far too real! "Just… just a dream, Ada," he panted, slowly relaxing back against his pillows, while Elrond looked on in concern. "Just a dream."