TITLE: The Race AUTHOR: Victoria Leighton (Uruviel) RATING: PG-13 PAIRING: Haldir/Legolas SUMMARY: Haldir and Legolas race across the Gladden Fields on horseback, and then relax in a cold, mountain pool. DISCLAIMER: Mine, not yours. ^^ Haldir is mine too, you can't have him! (Alas that the Professor may detain him still.) NOTES: i was totally going somewhere with this... and then I forgot. WARNING: Who needs warnings? �Haldir! For Valar�s sake, slow down!� A white blur sped hastily over an open field, legs vanishing beneath it as the horse fought to gain an inch or two more, and so shorten the distance between himself, and the mare that raced gracefully ahead. Like an ebony shadow, she passed over the meadows, chocolate eyes focused only where he rider bade her go, with no heed to her own wellbeing. Absolute trust she had in this elf, and long had it been so. Nonetheless, though she was valiant and determined, her stride could not match that of the white stallion, whose hooves smote the earth like drums. Quickly, the distance between them began to wane, and both horse and rider knew they had no chance of maintaining their advantage. The taller, larger stallion devoured the ground that she fought to but between them, with apparent ease. Haldir of Lorien glanced behind him briefly, espying the Prince of Mirkwood on his glimmering horse. Beneath him, the dark blaze that was his mare struggled to keep the pace, though every moment brought her closer and closer to the pair they sought to outrun. Scanning the wall of the forest beside him, he begged her to pull hard to the right, engaging her hindquarter and turning almost immediately, in an act she knew best. She was no racing champion, and they both knew it folly to test Legolas and Celesul so, but both burned with a fit of pride that could not be quenched. Nor was she overly graceful, after the manner of elven mounts, as delicate as the elves themselves. She was of much stockier breeding, made for powerful shifts, rather than dauntless sprinting. Through the forest, none could outrun her, for the very trees seemed to leap out of her way, as she coiled into its depths. Neither log nor crevice hampered her, though � being of such petite size � the tallest trees and the widest rifts often gave her grief. She was Alkarasil, Star of Glory, as radiant in her beauty as the night was dark., with no master save herself alone. To ride her was not to own her, but to be given permission to do so, as she often allowed the elf she now bore gracefully across the forest floor. They were an interesting set in their own right, though the ties that bound them made them odder still. Only arrogance, lit with the fires of stubbornness, had they in common, though it proved to be more than enough: pride and a fierceness of temper that few beneath or above the world had yet been blessed with since the elder days. Risking a second glance behind and trusting her to guide them safely through the ever-thickening trees, Haldir noted with much joy that their followers had fallen far behind. A horse of Celesul�s might did not find sharp turns as simple as a creature as low to the ground as Alkarasil; nor could he quickly stop, and accelerate to his former pace without ample time. Even as the silver stallion sought to regain his distance, the trees barred his way, and he was forced to slow, or crash headlong into the thick, grey bark. Winding through what was left of an ancient road, the riders watched � dismally � as the shadows they chased vanished into the forests far ahead. �Ai! Haldir!� he called out again, hoping that, at last, his cried would not be in vain. �You win � now rest, and give both of these poor beasts a moment to catch their breath.� Even eyes scanned the dusky world before him, looking for the ebony shade that had ceased its noisy rampage. Silently, both horse and rider appeared in front of him, as though they had been suddenly sent their by the will of the gods. Dismounting, Haldir ran his hand slowly along the black mare�s next, soothing her with words of comfort, though her chest heaved with the force of her exertions. Nonetheless, she bent her neck, tossing her head and nuzzling the Marchwarden affectionately, not at all deterred by the brutal ride which they had taken. �You couldn�t have said that half an hour ago?� The LothL�rien elf questioned, a certain breathless tone to his voice as well, as he watched Alkarasil trot gaily towards the river they had only just forded. Splashing in the water, she nickered amiably to the grey male � who, though he appeared unaffected by the jaunt, was covered in a thin sheet of sweat. The stallion gladly followed her lead, pawing at the water, until he and Alkarasil, as well as their riders, had become sufficiently soaked. The midday sun was warm enough that they would all be amply dry in an hour or two, and so none made a great effort to dry themselves. Legolas rolled his eyes, sighing as he pulled his tunic over his head. �A half an hour ago, you would not have won,� he answered dryly, tone playfully mocking. Scrambling over the river rocks, he found a place where the sun�s rays broke through the canopy, warming the rock � and there he placed his tunic to dry. Settling himself on the bank, he began to unlace his boots, desiring to wade � or even swim � in the river�s cool waters. Smirking, Haldir eyed him from a distance, not hiding his admiration of the elven prince, but not making his observations readily apparent. Legolas was the descendant of a mighty elven line, and it showed in the lithe grace of his body, a sight that Haldir took pleasure in whenever possible. Now was yet another of those moments, and seeing his opportunity, followed the Mirkwood elf�s lead. Quickly stripping down to his leggings, he watched the younger eldalie struggle with his boot, chuckling at Legolas�s misfortune. Immediately, the other elf�s countenance grew dark, and his lips turned out in a sour-faced pout. �Verily,� Haldir answered, �but that contest is now decided.� Watching Legolas fight with his boot for a further spell, he stepped lightly across the rocks, and kneeled down before him. �Relax, my prince � you are struggling too hard.� Placing one hand on the elf�s chest to calm him, and delay the temper that was steadily rising, he placed the other beneath the heel of the hell-boot, and tugged gently, withholding a smug smile, as it slid easily off. Only when he had turned, facing away from the young prince did he allow a wide grin to spread across his face. Stepping closer to the water�s edge, he began to loosen the braids in his hair � not wanting to imagine the tangles that would surely arise if he left them tight � as he observed the horses, romping together in the shallower riverbed downstream. Legolas however remained on the bank, a dark cloud across his face as he sat in silence, both annoyed with himself for his inability, and his embarrassment at having been rescued by the one elf that would silently hold it over his head for the rest of eternity. Succumbing to his moodiness, he fell back against the grass, watching the golden leaves dance overhead as a warm breeze played across his chest. Pale stands of his flaxen hair floated about his face, like a shimmering web tossing in the soft summer breeze. Only the heavy splash of Haldir diving into the pool stirred him from his reverie � due entirely to the wave of water that cascaded over him. �You� you fiend!� he spluttered indignantly, sitting up abruptly as sheets of water rolled off of him. It was his intention to go for a swim, but he hadn�t expected to be so forcefully introduced to the cold mountain stream. From the centre of the river pool, Haldir watched him � laughing heartily as Legolas�s display and not at all daunted by the prince�s outrage. �Perhaps you should join me, rather than lounge about on the shore, attempting to bathe in the sun,� he teased, sending a second wall of water towards the younger elf. Again, Legolas stuttered through a response, unable to find anything concrete with which to retaliate. Meeting Haldir�s steely gaze with wide eyes, he pouted, mouth upturned in a soft frown. �But my leggings,� he answered with a whine, �they�ll be soaked � and nothing is worse than wet leggings.� He was hesitant to dive so carelessly in with the Marchwarden, for he was still wary of him, despite their friendship. �They�re already soaked,� Haldir replied brusquely, very nearly rolling his eyes at the younger elf�s antics. Though Legolas had long since reached his majority, he still acted like a complete elfling when the mood was upon him. �Take them off � lay them in the sun to dry.� He floated impatiently in the water, body having readily adjusted to the cooler temperature. Legolas eyed him carefully, noticing for the first time that Haldir�s own leggings lay discarded on the far bank, beside the rest of his clothes. As he observed, he was greeted with the all-too glorious sight of the marchwarden�s body, diving gracefully into the deepest end of the pool, glittering with the light of hundreds of diamonds as the water rolled off his skin. Floating lazily beneath the water, Haldir closed his eyes, enjoying the coolness that drifted under him from the river and the warmth that radiated above him from the sun. �Are you coming in, or no?� he asked as last, not bothering to glance in the elf prince�s direction. Legolas said nothing, instead entranced by the pale elf swimming in lazy circles around the pool. Turning around slowly, he pulled down his leggings, carefully laying them out in the sun. Peering through one, barely cracked eyelid, Haldir was met with the sight of lovely white flesh, round and taunting as Legolas bent to spread out his clothing. With a coy smile, Haldir closed his eyes again, body tensing at the images that suddenly ran rampant through his mind. To his left, he heard a sudden splash, closely followed by raining pellets of river water. �At last,� he muttered, while the prince was still submerged. �Excellent choice, my friend,� he called out as the elf prince�s blond head broke the surface. Tossing his wet hair over his head and out of his face, Legolas spun around to face Haldir, teeth chattering slightly as he did so. �It�s freezing!� he said, treading water in an attempt to get his blood circulating and warm himself up. |
