Brave and the Bold 2
Feb. 9th, 2004 09:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kippurbirdAnd there was a crying out from the mass, We want more.
So the writer, souped up on Ice Tea, lack of Medication and a good cold, wrote. The words came to her.
The story evolved.
And the mass will wonder... What the hell was she channeling?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And he was never seen on Middle Earth again.
That’s what they said about him. It wasn’t completely true. No elf ever saw him again. That part was true. But they didn’t look for him. They preferred to forget about him and the trouble he caused. And as for men, he stayed away from them. They knew little from him anyway. He was well before their time. He was only occasionally seen by a lone fisherman or a shepherd that strayed near the sea. He never left her shores.
For he had given the Sea a very important secret, but he didn’t trust her to keep it. She was a fickle mistress and while most secrets were kept occasionally she liked to gossip. And the secret he entrusted with her was far to dangerous to ever be told. So he spent the years wandering by her shores mournfully singing, calling to her to remember her promise. Her duty to keep the secret.
One day as he wandered the shores near Lond Daer something caused him to pause in his singing. There was a tension in the air – a wavering in the Song of Arda as if it were listening to a new something singer. An unexpected solo. There was a rending in the fabric of the song, a jolting of the singers, ripping and violently noisy; screeching as it demanded its attention from all the other players, shoving itself into the land with as much care as an Orc takes with its victim.
Then a pause.
A gasping of air. A righting of fallen objects after an earthquake. A checking of the fallen in the aftermath of battle before plunging on.
With a new singer. A new melody in the harmony.
A new melody yes… but with a very familiar refrain.
The singing wanderer glanced towards the ocean, still silent, questioning her: How could you have given up your secret if it’s still there?
This was a puzzle. This was the opening of an old wound long scarred but never completely healed. This was the reminder of an oath long – if perhaps foolishly – taken. This was a duty that must be fulfilled, once more.
So the singer turned away from the sea for the first time in over an Age and walked towards the trees, to the rivers, the mountains and the streams. To the source of this new singer that taunted him, that hurt his world.
In the dappled grove of trees Kyle looked at Wally and then at the archers around them. They had appeared practically out of nowhere. He hadn’t even blinked. They just showed up, arrows pointed at them. He studied them, trying to figure something about them. They were dressed in what looked like clothes from a Renn Fair. Except the clothes were too uniform and too well tailored in soft grays and greens that blended well with these tall and majestic trees around them. And he never heard of a fair that insisted on pointy ears?
Perhaps they got transported to fairy land?
It was no more implausible than getting transported a million years into the future, and he had done that already.
One of the fairies started barking at them. Wally looked at him curiously.
“Do you understand what he’s saying?”
Kyle smiled, “Of course. He’s saying your mother is a hamster and your father smells of elderberries.”
“Harde-har- har. Ring boy. Put that cracker jack prize to good use and Translate will you?”
Enjoying his small triumph at the Flash, for which he though was only fair for getting him drunk and making him miss his deadline, he willed the ring to translate the fairy’s (though that didn’t seem like a good word for them) words.
“…up. Both of you,” said the lead elf (Kyle decided that elf was a better word for them). Then much to Kyle’s confusion the entire group gave a collective gasp and a reflective step backwards.
Scooting closer to Kyle, Wally hissed, “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” Kyle replied looking around. He then noticed that his green Ming Vase had dissolved with him no longer willing it into existence letting the star sapphire show. But here the jewel seemed to have changed into a brilliant gem glowing with an inner light that seemed brighter and warmer than the sun. It practically pulsed with power, ebbing with the life of the world. Calling out seductively with a sorrowful song awash with love and blood, darkness, desire and ultimate sacrifice.
The elves language changed again, but the ring continued to translate it. One of the elves near the leader was hissing to the leader, “A Simaril! It has to be!”
“It can’t be! The Mariner still flies above us and the other two rest safely in the earth and sea. How could two mortals – strange as they may look – retrieve them?”
“Earth and sky are safe yes, but how safe is the sea? It may have washed ashore. We must take them to the Lady. She will know what to do!”
“Take these human intruders to the Lady?”
As they were arguing, Kyle reached down to pick up the stone. The Simaril? As his hand reached over to it an arrow sliced through the air landing right between him and the gem less than half an inch before his fingers. Kyle retreated his hand.
“Friendly folk.” Wally commented. “I always though elves were supposed to be shorter ya know? And with bigger ears.”
“Play a bit too much dungeons and dragons as a child? You know it’s evil.”
“You two.” The lead elf said back in the first language, apparently the argument had resolved itself, “You two will come with us. And you - ” he pointed to Kyle “will take the Simaril, but if you think of even trying to escape we will kill you. You are getting a privilege not accorded to many mortals. You are getting to meet the Lady of the Light, protector of the Golden Wood.”
With that pronouncement half of the elves melted back into the trees, the others taking their place loosely around he and Wally, their bows down but with the look and grace that said, we’re not really relaxed, we just look like that, so don’t do anything stupid. With the leader’s permission, Kyle retrieved the gem. Holding it in his hand he could feel its power whispering to him. At the leader’s order they started walking deeper into the woods.
Instead of getting darker, murkier, the deeper they traveled it seemed like the air grew lighter, the trees healthier. The world became more full of life. Birds called in high sweet voices. Their path was uninhibited by roots and decaying leaves, but was as soft as walking on newly laid plush carpet. Kyle wished that he had his sketch pad with him. To even try to capture what he saw. The tall trees reaching up towards the sky embracing the sunlight, the occasional hint of a deer flashing in the depths of the woods.
And a singing.
He could here something singing. It was low just almost out of the range of hearing, but as melodic – powerful – as any symphony he had heard. It reminded him of summer days spent on the beach with the sea in his nose and wind in his hair. Of tall mountains with peaks turning blush and then fiery red with the setting sun. The long ranging plains, grasses and wheat wavering and caressing against each other in the softest breeze. Of the first time he had seen the earth from space, coated in green thoughts, humming below him, welcoming him home. Serene, peaceful, safe.
And then Wally said, “I hope we’re not here long cause I only have one pair of underwear and I’m not interested in wearing it for more than I have to.”
Kyle and the elves shot him a look.
“What?” he protested. Kyle shook his head. “What’d I say?”
“Look at this place! Isn’t it amazing?” He gestured up to the trees and the golden beams of light striking through the leaves. Wally scuffed his feet against the ground looking around himself almost like a bored child. All he was missing was his hands stuck in his pockets as he slouched.
“It’s pretty sure. Trees are pretty. Birds are pretty. But you’re still amazed by this? We’ve seen stars explode, I dunno after that, trees seem sorta mundane. Even golden trees,” he said this with almost all of his typical Flash brashness but there was a hint of sadness that he had lost the wonder.
So the writer, souped up on Ice Tea, lack of Medication and a good cold, wrote. The words came to her.
The story evolved.
And the mass will wonder... What the hell was she channeling?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And he was never seen on Middle Earth again.
That’s what they said about him. It wasn’t completely true. No elf ever saw him again. That part was true. But they didn’t look for him. They preferred to forget about him and the trouble he caused. And as for men, he stayed away from them. They knew little from him anyway. He was well before their time. He was only occasionally seen by a lone fisherman or a shepherd that strayed near the sea. He never left her shores.
For he had given the Sea a very important secret, but he didn’t trust her to keep it. She was a fickle mistress and while most secrets were kept occasionally she liked to gossip. And the secret he entrusted with her was far to dangerous to ever be told. So he spent the years wandering by her shores mournfully singing, calling to her to remember her promise. Her duty to keep the secret.
One day as he wandered the shores near Lond Daer something caused him to pause in his singing. There was a tension in the air – a wavering in the Song of Arda as if it were listening to a new something singer. An unexpected solo. There was a rending in the fabric of the song, a jolting of the singers, ripping and violently noisy; screeching as it demanded its attention from all the other players, shoving itself into the land with as much care as an Orc takes with its victim.
Then a pause.
A gasping of air. A righting of fallen objects after an earthquake. A checking of the fallen in the aftermath of battle before plunging on.
With a new singer. A new melody in the harmony.
A new melody yes… but with a very familiar refrain.
The singing wanderer glanced towards the ocean, still silent, questioning her: How could you have given up your secret if it’s still there?
This was a puzzle. This was the opening of an old wound long scarred but never completely healed. This was the reminder of an oath long – if perhaps foolishly – taken. This was a duty that must be fulfilled, once more.
So the singer turned away from the sea for the first time in over an Age and walked towards the trees, to the rivers, the mountains and the streams. To the source of this new singer that taunted him, that hurt his world.
In the dappled grove of trees Kyle looked at Wally and then at the archers around them. They had appeared practically out of nowhere. He hadn’t even blinked. They just showed up, arrows pointed at them. He studied them, trying to figure something about them. They were dressed in what looked like clothes from a Renn Fair. Except the clothes were too uniform and too well tailored in soft grays and greens that blended well with these tall and majestic trees around them. And he never heard of a fair that insisted on pointy ears?
Perhaps they got transported to fairy land?
It was no more implausible than getting transported a million years into the future, and he had done that already.
One of the fairies started barking at them. Wally looked at him curiously.
“Do you understand what he’s saying?”
Kyle smiled, “Of course. He’s saying your mother is a hamster and your father smells of elderberries.”
“Harde-har- har. Ring boy. Put that cracker jack prize to good use and Translate will you?”
Enjoying his small triumph at the Flash, for which he though was only fair for getting him drunk and making him miss his deadline, he willed the ring to translate the fairy’s (though that didn’t seem like a good word for them) words.
“…up. Both of you,” said the lead elf (Kyle decided that elf was a better word for them). Then much to Kyle’s confusion the entire group gave a collective gasp and a reflective step backwards.
Scooting closer to Kyle, Wally hissed, “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” Kyle replied looking around. He then noticed that his green Ming Vase had dissolved with him no longer willing it into existence letting the star sapphire show. But here the jewel seemed to have changed into a brilliant gem glowing with an inner light that seemed brighter and warmer than the sun. It practically pulsed with power, ebbing with the life of the world. Calling out seductively with a sorrowful song awash with love and blood, darkness, desire and ultimate sacrifice.
The elves language changed again, but the ring continued to translate it. One of the elves near the leader was hissing to the leader, “A Simaril! It has to be!”
“It can’t be! The Mariner still flies above us and the other two rest safely in the earth and sea. How could two mortals – strange as they may look – retrieve them?”
“Earth and sky are safe yes, but how safe is the sea? It may have washed ashore. We must take them to the Lady. She will know what to do!”
“Take these human intruders to the Lady?”
As they were arguing, Kyle reached down to pick up the stone. The Simaril? As his hand reached over to it an arrow sliced through the air landing right between him and the gem less than half an inch before his fingers. Kyle retreated his hand.
“Friendly folk.” Wally commented. “I always though elves were supposed to be shorter ya know? And with bigger ears.”
“Play a bit too much dungeons and dragons as a child? You know it’s evil.”
“You two.” The lead elf said back in the first language, apparently the argument had resolved itself, “You two will come with us. And you - ” he pointed to Kyle “will take the Simaril, but if you think of even trying to escape we will kill you. You are getting a privilege not accorded to many mortals. You are getting to meet the Lady of the Light, protector of the Golden Wood.”
With that pronouncement half of the elves melted back into the trees, the others taking their place loosely around he and Wally, their bows down but with the look and grace that said, we’re not really relaxed, we just look like that, so don’t do anything stupid. With the leader’s permission, Kyle retrieved the gem. Holding it in his hand he could feel its power whispering to him. At the leader’s order they started walking deeper into the woods.
Instead of getting darker, murkier, the deeper they traveled it seemed like the air grew lighter, the trees healthier. The world became more full of life. Birds called in high sweet voices. Their path was uninhibited by roots and decaying leaves, but was as soft as walking on newly laid plush carpet. Kyle wished that he had his sketch pad with him. To even try to capture what he saw. The tall trees reaching up towards the sky embracing the sunlight, the occasional hint of a deer flashing in the depths of the woods.
And a singing.
He could here something singing. It was low just almost out of the range of hearing, but as melodic – powerful – as any symphony he had heard. It reminded him of summer days spent on the beach with the sea in his nose and wind in his hair. Of tall mountains with peaks turning blush and then fiery red with the setting sun. The long ranging plains, grasses and wheat wavering and caressing against each other in the softest breeze. Of the first time he had seen the earth from space, coated in green thoughts, humming below him, welcoming him home. Serene, peaceful, safe.
And then Wally said, “I hope we’re not here long cause I only have one pair of underwear and I’m not interested in wearing it for more than I have to.”
Kyle and the elves shot him a look.
“What?” he protested. Kyle shook his head. “What’d I say?”
“Look at this place! Isn’t it amazing?” He gestured up to the trees and the golden beams of light striking through the leaves. Wally scuffed his feet against the ground looking around himself almost like a bored child. All he was missing was his hands stuck in his pockets as he slouched.
“It’s pretty sure. Trees are pretty. Birds are pretty. But you’re still amazed by this? We’ve seen stars explode, I dunno after that, trees seem sorta mundane. Even golden trees,” he said this with almost all of his typical Flash brashness but there was a hint of sadness that he had lost the wonder.
