Oltha an Ithilgal
folder
Sailor Moon › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,064
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Sailor Moon › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,064
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Sailor Moon, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Three
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim ownership for Sailor Moon or Lord of the Rings
CHAPTER THREE
Sheer cliffs of grey rock rose high above on either side, waterfalls of white foam and mist piercing the cliff sides. Above, to the very edge of the rocky precipice, grew tall evergreens, their sharp tips straining to reach the bright sky. She leaned forward to the side, over the horse’s neck, to look below the the slender path curving along the rock wall, to the green and gold canyon far below. Her inquisitive eyes widened as they studied the breathtaking sight below her. Trees of red, green and gold crowded thickly on the floor of the valley. The light melodies of birds filled the air, and in the distance, she spied proud purple-grey mountains, their distant tips white with snow. Her perceptive eyes glimpsed fair houses of white and grey, with high arches, pillars, and balconies overlooking the vale, built into the side of the steep cliffs, and surrounded by the trees and other thriving plantlife. The arm around her waist tightened, pulling her back into the saddle, as she leaned a little too far out in her rapt fascination. She turned to smile radiantly at her riding companion, his grey-blue eyes studying her, sparkling with amusement. She leaned back against him, pulling his left arm closer around her, the back of her head resting on his solid chest, tilting it back to peek up at him through her bangs. She sighed, snuggling closer, and then turned her gaze to the river valley.
They galloped through an entryway between high stone gates, carved with decorations of vine-like lines and patterns. With his free right hand, Legolas pulled back on the leather reins to slow his horse, his left arm still securely holding the silver maiden. His right hand grasping the back of the saddle, he swung himself over the side of the horse, landing nimbly on the ground. He turned to the lady still in the saddle, picking her up effortlessly by the waist with both hands, and setting her down lightly beside him, reluctantly removing his hands from her small waist. He turned away from her, lifting his head high to behold the harmonious beauty and peace of Rivendell. A soft golden light filled the valley, stray leaves dancing gracefully in the fresh, cool breeze before gently fluttering to rest on the ground. Trees towered overhead throughout the vale, their green leaves changing to shades of gold and red from the autumn frosts. He observed the elegant architecture of the elves co-existing peacefully with the thriving plant and wildlife, in soft, muted shades of grey and ivory, their high roofs and steeples rising amongst the treetops. The fair laughter of elves rung crispy like silver bells, in the fresh, clean air, accompanied by the high notes and warbles of birds hidden in the trees. At one end of the vale, a large white waterfall rushing out from between the restraining rock cliffs formed a wide, shallow river that meandered throughout the valley, filling it with sounds of its trickling, flowing waters. He offered the lady his arm, her eyes sparkling with joy and delight at the beauty and tranquility surrounding her. They strolled in the direction of the house of Lord Elrond, taking time to enjoy the sights of the canyon, healing their tired bodies and minds from their long and pressing journey.
*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*
They stood before Lord Elrond on his open balcony, the flat stone walls grey, and smooth slate tiles on the floor. Carven wood beams and railings with detailed interwoven patterns framed the open spaces of the balcony. Lord Elrond stood tall, dressed in a floor-length tunic with long sleeves in soft pale gold tones, and a light green velvet long cloak, covering his strong shoulders and back. His dark hair was swept off his high forehead, arranged in intricate braids and knots, held in place with a single gold clip. Two ebony strands of hair at his temples were tied and hung in front of his elvish ears. His stone grey eyes beneath thick, arched brows held the wisdom of many years, and the troubled thoughts of the oncoming darkness.
Lord Elrond studied the unusual woman standing silently before him. Her long silver hair was swept up into her rare style with the round buns high on her head, and the thick, wavy sections slipping out of the buns reaching down to her knees. Her curling bangs framed the golden crescent sigal on her brow, and her silver-blue eyes still shining from their delight at her fascinating and unfamiliar surroundings. Her full pink lips were smiling charmingly in her joy. She wore a pale silver-blue dress with an off-the-shoulder neckline, thin silk straps wrapping over her round shoulders. The first layer of the dress was a translucent silver, and as light as air. The second layer showing through the silver was a pale blue silk. The sleeves were long and form-fitting, the sleeves ending at her wrists, except where the fabric lengthened into a point covering the top of her hand, and joining at her middle finger. She wore her double pearl drop earrings, and her silver crystal hung on its fine silver chain round her neck. She wore matching pale blue silk slippers on her delicate feet. Her strange silver-blue eyes spoke to him of wisdom and an old soul, but also a loving, gentle spirit, and a great deal of pain and suffering in their dark depths.
His careful and thorough scrutiny complete, Lord Elrond spoke. “She is not of elvinkind. Her ears are alone proof enough for that. However, she is also not of the race of Men, as her strange appearance would support. Considering her foreign traits, and a complete lack of knowledge of either Elvish or the common tongue…there is a complete lack of records or knowledge known to me, on a race fitting her description…this all points to the conclusion that she is not of Elves, Men, Dwarves or Halflings, she is not a creature known to Middle Earth. She is something entirely different, a race, for now, completely unknown and unheard of. All we can do for the time being is to teach her to speak our languages in the hopes that she will in time reveal her secrets and mysteries to us. I also sense a deep sadness and disturbance in her. I believe it would be in her best interest to stay in Rivendell for the time being, to rest and repair her heart and mind.”
Legolas listened to Lord Elrond’s counsel, the lady in question at his side. He wore a long, pale green tunic reaching his upper thighs over a crisp white shirt. His grey toned leggings were tucked into black boots reaching to his knees. Around his waist he wore a black leather belt with a gold buckle, and bands of brown leather crossed his chest, holding his quiver of arrows and his long, curved wooden bow strapped to his back. A brown-grey velvet cloak covered his shoulders, split open in the back to admit his quiver and bow.
Aside to Legolas, Lord Elrond spoke under his breath, “Tomorrow will be the council. It will be secret, and matters of great importance will be discussed, therefore the lady is not invited to attend. The meeting will be announced by bell. Take tonight to relax and recuperate from your tiring journey.”
He turned to light long white candlesticks sitting in an iron-wrought stand, as Legolas and the lady soundlessly left his study.
*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*
Legolas lay in bed, staring blankly at the white plaster ceiling, his mind elsewhere, dreaming of soft silver hair, laughing silver-blue eyes, and a soft, warm body sleeping close to him in the night. At the nearly indistinguishable sound of a door softly closing outside his room, he rose to hastily pull of his leggings and boots, and throw on his green tunic over the long white shirt he had been sleeping in. He crept soundlessly out of his room and to the adjoining balcony.
She stood with her back to him, in her white sleeping gown, her tiny pale hands resting lightly on the railing, and her head tilted upwards to gaze upon the full moon hanging low in the night sky dotted with twinkling, shining white stars, distant and cold-looking compared to the great glowing orb beside them. Her hair was unbound, falling to her ankles in soft waves that gleamed gently in the moonlight. She stood barefoot on the cold stone floor, no cloak to cover her bare, milky-white arms, paying no heed to the cold autumn wind penetrating easily through the thin fabric of her nightgown to chill her skin. He tread softly to stand beside her, viewing the full moon with her.
The sound of crickets filling the night air, and the dark heavens high above, he turned to her. He was surprised to find in her eyes a deep sadness and longing, as she continued to gaze forlornly at the full moon. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, before a lone tear traced its wet path down her cheek. He moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. Her body stiffened for a moment only now realizing his presence, before softening in his arms, as she squeezed her eyes shut, more tears escaping to wet her smooth cheeks.
He tightened his hold on her, subconsciously trying to protect her from the sorrow that haunted her mind. He raised his hand before her at chest-level, his palm held open and upwards. He waited a moment, as the moonbeams reacted with his elvish blood, the light from the full moon bursting into silver and white wisps that lazily traced delicate designs in the air above his palm. As the moonlight played in the palm of his hand, she watched mesmerized, her sorrow forgotten for the moment. She glanced up at him quickly, his heart warming at her sight of her, her cerulean eyes wide and bright with joy and wonder for the moondance. Her eyes were still wet from the tears they held, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and her lips curved upwards into a contagious smile, making him break out in a happy grin of his own. She turned to watch the silver-white moonbeams dancing in his palm, hesitantly reaching out to touch the magical light with her fingertips. Astonished, he stepped back, as the moonlight dance leapt from his palm to shoot up her finger like a white-hot spark, to disappear for a moment, before streaming around her beaming face and then streaking down the length of her silver tresses to her feet, to spiral upwards and around her in a gentle funnel. She spun around in circles her arms thrown out, as her light and musical laughter filled the night air, the moondance surrounding her. The moonbeams became more excited at her joy and laughter, and spun its silver-white light around her, showing off sparks of light and stunning displays of detailed designs tracing in the air all around her. Finally, her spinning slowed as she stopped to turn to the moon once again, reaching a slim, graceful arm to the moon, sighing as the moonbeams, sensing their mistress` change of mood dissipated into a light silver mist to be blown away by the cold night breeze. He stood, frozen on the spot, staring at the scene before him in amazement. Snapping out of his dreamy trance, he swiftly met her, enveloping her in his strong arms from behind, as she leaned her head back on his shoulder and sighed.
“My lady?”
She turned in his arms to place her hands against his chest, her body pressed flush against his. She lifted her head to regard him, her silver-blue eyes dancing with mirth, her full pink mouth slightly open as she breathed in deeply, her fair cheeks flushed with colour from the cold and her dance with the moonbeams.
“Never before have I seen such an affinity with the moonbeams…The longing in your eyes as you gazed at the moon…You are truly a goddess of the moon,” he murmured in her ear, his hot breath tickling her sensitive skin, sending shivers up and down her arms and legs, to her fingertips and toes. He paused, taking her in, memorizing every detail of her erethral face bathed in silver moonlight. “Until you find your voice, my lady, I shall call you Ithril.\"
She studied his face as he spoke softly to her, not understanding, but sensing the tenderness and longing in his feelings towards her. She raised up on her tiptoes and leaned into him, puckering her full pink mouth slightly, her lips barely open, as her eyes languidly closed, her black eyelashes fluttering gently against her cheeks as she kissed him. He stared at her in surprise for a moment, before he tightened his hold on her, pulling her close to him and lifting her feet off the ground as he returned her loving embrace.
CHAPTER THREE
Sheer cliffs of grey rock rose high above on either side, waterfalls of white foam and mist piercing the cliff sides. Above, to the very edge of the rocky precipice, grew tall evergreens, their sharp tips straining to reach the bright sky. She leaned forward to the side, over the horse’s neck, to look below the the slender path curving along the rock wall, to the green and gold canyon far below. Her inquisitive eyes widened as they studied the breathtaking sight below her. Trees of red, green and gold crowded thickly on the floor of the valley. The light melodies of birds filled the air, and in the distance, she spied proud purple-grey mountains, their distant tips white with snow. Her perceptive eyes glimpsed fair houses of white and grey, with high arches, pillars, and balconies overlooking the vale, built into the side of the steep cliffs, and surrounded by the trees and other thriving plantlife. The arm around her waist tightened, pulling her back into the saddle, as she leaned a little too far out in her rapt fascination. She turned to smile radiantly at her riding companion, his grey-blue eyes studying her, sparkling with amusement. She leaned back against him, pulling his left arm closer around her, the back of her head resting on his solid chest, tilting it back to peek up at him through her bangs. She sighed, snuggling closer, and then turned her gaze to the river valley.
They galloped through an entryway between high stone gates, carved with decorations of vine-like lines and patterns. With his free right hand, Legolas pulled back on the leather reins to slow his horse, his left arm still securely holding the silver maiden. His right hand grasping the back of the saddle, he swung himself over the side of the horse, landing nimbly on the ground. He turned to the lady still in the saddle, picking her up effortlessly by the waist with both hands, and setting her down lightly beside him, reluctantly removing his hands from her small waist. He turned away from her, lifting his head high to behold the harmonious beauty and peace of Rivendell. A soft golden light filled the valley, stray leaves dancing gracefully in the fresh, cool breeze before gently fluttering to rest on the ground. Trees towered overhead throughout the vale, their green leaves changing to shades of gold and red from the autumn frosts. He observed the elegant architecture of the elves co-existing peacefully with the thriving plant and wildlife, in soft, muted shades of grey and ivory, their high roofs and steeples rising amongst the treetops. The fair laughter of elves rung crispy like silver bells, in the fresh, clean air, accompanied by the high notes and warbles of birds hidden in the trees. At one end of the vale, a large white waterfall rushing out from between the restraining rock cliffs formed a wide, shallow river that meandered throughout the valley, filling it with sounds of its trickling, flowing waters. He offered the lady his arm, her eyes sparkling with joy and delight at the beauty and tranquility surrounding her. They strolled in the direction of the house of Lord Elrond, taking time to enjoy the sights of the canyon, healing their tired bodies and minds from their long and pressing journey.
*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*
They stood before Lord Elrond on his open balcony, the flat stone walls grey, and smooth slate tiles on the floor. Carven wood beams and railings with detailed interwoven patterns framed the open spaces of the balcony. Lord Elrond stood tall, dressed in a floor-length tunic with long sleeves in soft pale gold tones, and a light green velvet long cloak, covering his strong shoulders and back. His dark hair was swept off his high forehead, arranged in intricate braids and knots, held in place with a single gold clip. Two ebony strands of hair at his temples were tied and hung in front of his elvish ears. His stone grey eyes beneath thick, arched brows held the wisdom of many years, and the troubled thoughts of the oncoming darkness.
Lord Elrond studied the unusual woman standing silently before him. Her long silver hair was swept up into her rare style with the round buns high on her head, and the thick, wavy sections slipping out of the buns reaching down to her knees. Her curling bangs framed the golden crescent sigal on her brow, and her silver-blue eyes still shining from their delight at her fascinating and unfamiliar surroundings. Her full pink lips were smiling charmingly in her joy. She wore a pale silver-blue dress with an off-the-shoulder neckline, thin silk straps wrapping over her round shoulders. The first layer of the dress was a translucent silver, and as light as air. The second layer showing through the silver was a pale blue silk. The sleeves were long and form-fitting, the sleeves ending at her wrists, except where the fabric lengthened into a point covering the top of her hand, and joining at her middle finger. She wore her double pearl drop earrings, and her silver crystal hung on its fine silver chain round her neck. She wore matching pale blue silk slippers on her delicate feet. Her strange silver-blue eyes spoke to him of wisdom and an old soul, but also a loving, gentle spirit, and a great deal of pain and suffering in their dark depths.
His careful and thorough scrutiny complete, Lord Elrond spoke. “She is not of elvinkind. Her ears are alone proof enough for that. However, she is also not of the race of Men, as her strange appearance would support. Considering her foreign traits, and a complete lack of knowledge of either Elvish or the common tongue…there is a complete lack of records or knowledge known to me, on a race fitting her description…this all points to the conclusion that she is not of Elves, Men, Dwarves or Halflings, she is not a creature known to Middle Earth. She is something entirely different, a race, for now, completely unknown and unheard of. All we can do for the time being is to teach her to speak our languages in the hopes that she will in time reveal her secrets and mysteries to us. I also sense a deep sadness and disturbance in her. I believe it would be in her best interest to stay in Rivendell for the time being, to rest and repair her heart and mind.”
Legolas listened to Lord Elrond’s counsel, the lady in question at his side. He wore a long, pale green tunic reaching his upper thighs over a crisp white shirt. His grey toned leggings were tucked into black boots reaching to his knees. Around his waist he wore a black leather belt with a gold buckle, and bands of brown leather crossed his chest, holding his quiver of arrows and his long, curved wooden bow strapped to his back. A brown-grey velvet cloak covered his shoulders, split open in the back to admit his quiver and bow.
Aside to Legolas, Lord Elrond spoke under his breath, “Tomorrow will be the council. It will be secret, and matters of great importance will be discussed, therefore the lady is not invited to attend. The meeting will be announced by bell. Take tonight to relax and recuperate from your tiring journey.”
He turned to light long white candlesticks sitting in an iron-wrought stand, as Legolas and the lady soundlessly left his study.
*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*....*~^~*
Legolas lay in bed, staring blankly at the white plaster ceiling, his mind elsewhere, dreaming of soft silver hair, laughing silver-blue eyes, and a soft, warm body sleeping close to him in the night. At the nearly indistinguishable sound of a door softly closing outside his room, he rose to hastily pull of his leggings and boots, and throw on his green tunic over the long white shirt he had been sleeping in. He crept soundlessly out of his room and to the adjoining balcony.
She stood with her back to him, in her white sleeping gown, her tiny pale hands resting lightly on the railing, and her head tilted upwards to gaze upon the full moon hanging low in the night sky dotted with twinkling, shining white stars, distant and cold-looking compared to the great glowing orb beside them. Her hair was unbound, falling to her ankles in soft waves that gleamed gently in the moonlight. She stood barefoot on the cold stone floor, no cloak to cover her bare, milky-white arms, paying no heed to the cold autumn wind penetrating easily through the thin fabric of her nightgown to chill her skin. He tread softly to stand beside her, viewing the full moon with her.
The sound of crickets filling the night air, and the dark heavens high above, he turned to her. He was surprised to find in her eyes a deep sadness and longing, as she continued to gaze forlornly at the full moon. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, before a lone tear traced its wet path down her cheek. He moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. Her body stiffened for a moment only now realizing his presence, before softening in his arms, as she squeezed her eyes shut, more tears escaping to wet her smooth cheeks.
He tightened his hold on her, subconsciously trying to protect her from the sorrow that haunted her mind. He raised his hand before her at chest-level, his palm held open and upwards. He waited a moment, as the moonbeams reacted with his elvish blood, the light from the full moon bursting into silver and white wisps that lazily traced delicate designs in the air above his palm. As the moonlight played in the palm of his hand, she watched mesmerized, her sorrow forgotten for the moment. She glanced up at him quickly, his heart warming at her sight of her, her cerulean eyes wide and bright with joy and wonder for the moondance. Her eyes were still wet from the tears they held, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and her lips curved upwards into a contagious smile, making him break out in a happy grin of his own. She turned to watch the silver-white moonbeams dancing in his palm, hesitantly reaching out to touch the magical light with her fingertips. Astonished, he stepped back, as the moonlight dance leapt from his palm to shoot up her finger like a white-hot spark, to disappear for a moment, before streaming around her beaming face and then streaking down the length of her silver tresses to her feet, to spiral upwards and around her in a gentle funnel. She spun around in circles her arms thrown out, as her light and musical laughter filled the night air, the moondance surrounding her. The moonbeams became more excited at her joy and laughter, and spun its silver-white light around her, showing off sparks of light and stunning displays of detailed designs tracing in the air all around her. Finally, her spinning slowed as she stopped to turn to the moon once again, reaching a slim, graceful arm to the moon, sighing as the moonbeams, sensing their mistress` change of mood dissipated into a light silver mist to be blown away by the cold night breeze. He stood, frozen on the spot, staring at the scene before him in amazement. Snapping out of his dreamy trance, he swiftly met her, enveloping her in his strong arms from behind, as she leaned her head back on his shoulder and sighed.
“My lady?”
She turned in his arms to place her hands against his chest, her body pressed flush against his. She lifted her head to regard him, her silver-blue eyes dancing with mirth, her full pink mouth slightly open as she breathed in deeply, her fair cheeks flushed with colour from the cold and her dance with the moonbeams.
“Never before have I seen such an affinity with the moonbeams…The longing in your eyes as you gazed at the moon…You are truly a goddess of the moon,” he murmured in her ear, his hot breath tickling her sensitive skin, sending shivers up and down her arms and legs, to her fingertips and toes. He paused, taking her in, memorizing every detail of her erethral face bathed in silver moonlight. “Until you find your voice, my lady, I shall call you Ithril.\"
She studied his face as he spoke softly to her, not understanding, but sensing the tenderness and longing in his feelings towards her. She raised up on her tiptoes and leaned into him, puckering her full pink mouth slightly, her lips barely open, as her eyes languidly closed, her black eyelashes fluttering gently against her cheeks as she kissed him. He stared at her in surprise for a moment, before he tightened his hold on her, pulling her close to him and lifting her feet off the ground as he returned her loving embrace.