ch. 1- glow
Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene
by Hozier
"Shaking the wings of their terrible youth,
freshly disowned in some frozen devotion.
No more alone or myself could I be,
lurched like a stray into the arms that were open."
🌳🌿🍃
"Down."
Frodo spun at the new voice, just in time to dodge the blade flung straight past his head. It embedded itself into hand of the ghost like creature not far from he and his companions.
Sam, Frodo's right hand man, yelled out, reaching to pull Frodo under a ledge to the right of the path with Merry and Pippin. This did not seem to sway the newfound intensity in the eyes of the shadow walker.
The hooves pounded past the hobbits and towards the direction of the voice and blade. A cloaked figure stood tall in the middle of the path, shadows seemingly akin to the ones of the Riders dancing across its darkened features. The figure pulled a white bow from its back, a blinding contrast from its foreboding presence.
The bow released a twang, and then another. Sam pulled Frodo the rest of the way over the ledge, cutting off his view of the battle. Above the original fear, a form of guilt rippled across his heart as the four trembled under the protection of the ledge. After a few minutes of the sounds of what they thought was a losing battle, a blood-curdling neigh and then silence encased the patch of woods. The four looked at each other in collected fear.
The soft crunch of leaves led to another unintentional tremble. Although, to their surprise, the cloaked figure appeared in front of the ledge. Another silence encased the hobbits as they met its gaze, landing on Frodo's for what Sam discerned as far too long.
"Stand," it spoke, a hint of elegance belonging to only that of a female pricking their ears. "Mithrandir has sent me. We must go."
She was clad in a breast plate, her cloak tucked into the sides, but flowing around the arms and legs. Her trousers were tight against her slim body, and a small pack sat neatly on her back, encased by the white wood of her bow and quiver. A long dagger was gripped in her tanned hand, and two empty clips attached themselves to her side.
Only one dagger, but two clips. She threw the dagger.
"Aye!" Merry shouted, brushing leaves off of his still-crouched form. "Who is Mithrandir? Who are you?"
The woman halted, turning to face the young hobbit, shadows continuing to haunt her face. Merry stood, and straightened in a feign of confidence to protect his friends.
"It is either you follow me, or you pass," she spoke clearly, an obvious accent that the hobbits could not pinpoint becoming clear. "I do not fail on my obligations. My obligation is to bring you to Strider unharmed."
Merry glanced back at his friends. Pippin shrugged with wide eyes as Sam looked to Frodo, his hand dug firmly into his pocket. Frodo looked once more at the woman in a final attempt to understand. He nodded to Merry without moving his eyes from her cloaked face.
The hobbits stood shakily as the woman began walking. They followed, seconds turning to minutes and minutes turning to hours. No one spoke.
They had seen their first glimpse of what is to come from this journey. Gandalf had warned Frodo, who in turn warned his friends. His dream of living for adventures like Bilbo's were quickly turned sour- a desire for an unreachable story. They had quickly begun to rethink the role Gandalf had for them. Surely, in a world large enough to hold beings indescribable to the Shire, what could a hobbit do?
YOU ARE READING
Grey- Legolas Greenleaf
Fanfiction"...would you leave, only to never be able to remember the touch of anything but his skin?" Inspired by Too Sweet by Hozier. 🌳🌿🍃 Grey has (technically) only lived three years upon Middle Earth. Although she knows she has been here for years, she...
