A New Cuiviénen (1/3)

Series: Choking Hazard (1/?)
Fandom: LotR FPS (sort of)
Rating: G
Warning: Weird. With all the promise of getting weirder.
Summary: The awakening of an Action Figure.
Beta: Daea. Wow and thankyou.
Notes: For the CharactersInBloom January Action Elf challenge. Also, I would like to take this oppurtunity to point out that I am not on crack. I suffered severe sleep deprivation in mid-January due to sitting up watching Sharpe dvds nonstop for 16 hours. When I woke up after having caught up on my slumber, this was stuck in my head and wouldn't leave.

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, in an age not so long ago, there lived an elf. He lived in a room with a soft bed and too many pillows where a young girl slept, night after night, locked away from the daily traumas of school, parents, and the latest immature and inappropriate boyfriend.

The elf's name was Legolas, as I'm sure my gentle reader has already guessed, and he was as fine as any elf that had ever graced this or any other earth.

When he first awoke fresh out of transparent plastic packaging he dwelled in many places. On Lady Owner's Bedside Table, on her Desk next to her stereo, and occasionally at the bottom of her Bed, offensively dropped amidst a sorry pile of discarded junk. Lately, however, he was sat posed on the left end of her Bookshelf (where there weren't actually any books). He sat there, glaring out fiercely at the world even as he was propped up against a big fluffy white stuffed cat and a monkey of non-specific species, whose fur was matted, eye loose, and stuffing clumped.

Despite his present meek company, he felt himself well situated. He could see the whole room from up here and the position was a good one from which to peruse the walls and ceiling for spiders. These were the only creatures he had found in this habitat to hunt, those foul descendants of the venomous Ungoliant, stealer of light. Legolas was a magnificent hunter and warrior; his bowmanship had no parallel and his bright glory with his pair of long knives undeniable. So he hunted spiders with a wrath and inspired joy that shocked and terrified his more homely shelf-mates.

He attacked with such shots as to kill on perfectly targeted impact foes almost the full breadth of the Room away from his position. The light of battle shone ever fierce in his eyes, my dear reader, and I am certain you can envision the gleaming helm of his pure hair glinting as his lithe form tensed and glided in athletic grandeur even as it most surely happened, night after night, when slumber took his most churlish Lady Owner.

Things were not always thus, however, for our gallant Legolas.

He awoke, as I have already mentioned, from a cardboard and plastic tomb that had long housed him in his gestating sleep, and although much bewildered, he brought his Lady Owner much joy on the day of his arrival in her household. He was the embodiment of much that the Lady had long idolized, the smallest piece of what she had hastily perceived to be fairest in that other world, that world of dreams and magic and marvels. So she was happy with her prize and for that first day and many after Legolas was much treasured.

Large ungraceful hands clutched about him that first day and despite rightfully being counted amongst the bravest of his people, our fine elf grew fearful. For but one of the fingers of each hand was the full length of his mighty bow and he was frozen into stillness by some greater power, even as his limbs remained fully poseable. His torment did not cease for many hours and whilst light was in the unnatural sky-less vault above him he knew no peace.

Eventually the light went and Legolas knew fear yet redoubled, for there was no gentle sunset or dimming of the surroundings such as occurs even in the darkest, most overhung and overcast regions of his homeland. Indeed, the light went as if struck by some almighty blow delivered and all was dark. He prayed to the Lady Elbereth at that hour, for although he espied no stars above him, it is said that the grace of Varda will follow the firstborn always and Legolas prayed that it was so. That his questions and fears would be answered.

He received no vision, however, in answer to his prayers, and in that dark time despair almost took him. Perchance the Lady Varda did hear and heed his words, however, for the darkness did not enter into the very heart of him, and even in his misery he cried out for his friends, his lost travelling companions, that he might find solace in companionship. He wished not that they should suffer his own lonesome plight, but even so he longed for their company most surely.

He thought of Aragorn, hardiest and best travelled of men, and tried to think of tales of his journeys such as described his currently enveloping darkness. But there were none that he had ever heard.

He thought of the hobbits, cheeriest and most joyful of folk, and his thoughts lingered upon their merry songs. But there were none that he had ever heard to chase away this empty well of hope within his soul.

He thought of Gimli, his most unexpected friend, with his stubborn and oft foolish nature, and with his incomprehensible fondness for caves and mountains. Then the dark did not seem so overbearing, for as surely as it was a thorough dark it could not compare to the intensity of black housed within Moria.

Legolas took heart. He had faced the perverted foulness of the Orc, the overwhelming directionless power of the troll, hoards of the fearless murdering Uruk-Hai, and the ancient obliterating menace of a Balrog. He would not falter in the face of this new challenge.

He had been dotingly left that first night of greatest doubt upon the Bedside Table. He stood slightly awkwardly, positioned somewhat unnaturally against what he would later learn to name the Lamp. So carefully he peered forwards and to his sides, taking careful silent steps about his initial position.

Trying to pierce the expanse of space before him with his keen gaze, Legolas felt the edge of the surface he stood upon sheer beneath his feet. Swiftly he swung his bow from about his arm to grasp his weapon more accessibly within the firm grip of his left hand and he took a last glance behind him before jumping down what he remembered to be a great height, but not a deadly one.

And thus it was that in the dark Legolas left the Bedside Table behind him, and went forth to see what he might find.

Posted by Missiedith at February 19, 2004 10:54 AM | TrackBack