Stories by Legion

The Time We Are Given

The sharp crack of a log collapsing into the campfire drew his attention back to the tree they had chosen to shelter under for the night, and he half-turned toward its welcome, smiling. Sam was on the edge of their small campsite, making up pallets of fresh grasses for their beds, head bent over his task as if it had to be done just so. Or perhaps, Frodo admitted, it's because I'm out and about with Sam, as if we have nothing more important on our minds than the shared pleasures of a cross-country tramp and camping out.


Interium

Deciding her very doubt was what she must hang her courage on, Galadriel set aside the pitcher, calmed her mind, and looked into the mirror, willing Frodo's face to appear. The water remained dark, blind, but when she would have turned away, giving up her task as fruitless, a soft sigh of motion undulated over the surface, carrying the dance of light with it. When it passed, she could see Frodo, head almost to his chest, hands clenched as his sides, as he stood pressed close to a great tree, as if hiding behind it. Of Samwise there was no sign, and she grew troubled, fearing the worse for the Ring-bearer if he had lost his only source of comfort.


One Heart Laid Bare

"You were a bit hard on the lad, were you not?" Gimli asked quietly. He stared out over the rock and stone of Helm's Deep, silently approving of the skill and craft that had wrought it into such a formidable fortress. Without questioning why he should, he had known that one born to open sky such as Legolas would choose to spend his last hours before battle as close to that sky as he could climb. And so he had made his way up the winding stair to the parapet that housed the great horn of the Deep to find the Elf there, standing balanced on the very rim of the outermost rampart.


One Moment Laid Bare

Perhaps because he knew well how the spirit could rally at the right sound or sight--perhaps because he could see that Aragorn dearly wished for even that small advantage--Gimli found himself saying, "I can give voice to the Horn. It is not unlike one that my father uses to summon our people to council." Privately, he unwillingly admitted it was much greater in size as well, but he was not going to say that aloud. He had no doubt he could still manage quite well.