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Sep. 4th, 2008 06:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cairistionaI have a few ficlets based on Aragorn Angst list prompts ... they haven't been posted anywhere because they're so short, but I had one of those "duh" moments (I get those a lot) and thought, why not post them here. So here's one of them, featuring Halbarad, Aragorn and an OC Ranger named Denlad, who appears in a lot of my stories (or will whenever I get said stories finished) ...
Watch His Eyes
by cairistiona
Pre-LOTR
Rated PG
A ficlet based on the prompt "Eyes" from the Aragorn Anst list
Usual disclaimers–Aragorn and Halbarad aren’t mine. Denlad, however, is. Thanks, Amarok, for the beta help! Modified very slightly from the original one posted at the Aragorn Angst list--I took away their real swords (Aragorn wasn't happy about that) and gave them wooden ones to practice with (Denlad, however, was happy about that).
A young Ranger gets a lesson in swordsmanship and in the fine art of a deadly gaze...
"Keep your feet moving!” Halbarad urged as he watched the two sparring men. “And watch his eyes. He’ll never admit it, but his eyes give him away every time!”
Aragorn glared at Halbarad even as he parried the young Ranger’s thrust. “I do not give away anything with my...” He broke off as he easily parried Denlad’s somewhat wild lunge. “...eyes!”
“Don’t believe him, Denlad. Just keep your blues on his greys and see if I’m not right.”
Denlad, younger than both men by at least twenty years and feeling less experienced by centuries, tried to focus on his Chieftain’s eyes. It wasn’t easy, for he always felt like Aragorn could see through to his very soul with those keen, assessing eyes of his. He swallowed and forced himself to watch Aragorn’s eyes as he took a few steps to the left. Aragorn followed suit, and they circled each other like spokes around an unseen hub.
Aragorn’s gaze glimmered with a fierce amusement that was echoed in the slight upward tilt of the corners of his firmly set lips. Denlad flexed his sweating hands on the hilt of his wooden sparring sword, feeling sudden sympathy for field mice under a hawk’s savage gaze. But then he noticed the barest change, a flicker at most, in Aragorn’s gaze and Denlad swept up his sword instinctively, blocking and turning aside Aragorn’s blade.
Surprise briefly widened Aragorn’s eyes, but Denlad’s exultation was short-lived as he found himself forced backward by a lightning barrage of more feints and thrusts than he could handle. Denlad parried two blows, ducked another. A desperate upward thrust blocked another with a noisy clatter, but then he slipped and found himself on his back, gasping and staring with almost crossed eyes at the quivering point of Aragorn’s blade, which hovered a hair’s breadth from the end of his nose.
“You stopped watching my eyes,” Aragorn murmured, barely breathing hard.
Denlad didn’t dare nod for fear of impaling a nostril on the end of the Chieftain’s sword, which, although wooden, still looked very sharp at this intensely close range. “Y-yes, sir.”
A gentle laugh and the sword vanished and a hand appeared instead. He grasped it and Aragorn hauled him to his feet. “Unharmed, I hope?”
“Yes, sir.” Intact as to body, perhaps, but as for pride...
Halbarad laid an arm across Denlad’s shoulders. “You saw, didn’t you? That little flicker.”
“Yes, but after that he grew sixteen more arms and at least eight swords,” Denlad muttered.
Aragorn smiled and Halbarad slapped Denlad’s shoulder. “Take heart. Yours is not the first arse our Strider has dumped in the dust. Just be glad you’re not an orc. The only thing he lets them see in his eyes is their death.”
Denlad glanced uncertainly toward Aragorn, whose gaze now seemed no more dangerous than a soft breeze on a sunny day. But even as he returned the look, Aragorn smiled wickedly and the warmth turned to steel, and Denlad shivered, suddenly exceedingly glad he was not an orc.
Watch His Eyes
by cairistiona
Pre-LOTR
Rated PG
A ficlet based on the prompt "Eyes" from the Aragorn Anst list
Usual disclaimers–Aragorn and Halbarad aren’t mine. Denlad, however, is. Thanks, Amarok, for the beta help! Modified very slightly from the original one posted at the Aragorn Angst list--I took away their real swords (Aragorn wasn't happy about that) and gave them wooden ones to practice with (Denlad, however, was happy about that).
A young Ranger gets a lesson in swordsmanship and in the fine art of a deadly gaze...
"Keep your feet moving!” Halbarad urged as he watched the two sparring men. “And watch his eyes. He’ll never admit it, but his eyes give him away every time!”
Aragorn glared at Halbarad even as he parried the young Ranger’s thrust. “I do not give away anything with my...” He broke off as he easily parried Denlad’s somewhat wild lunge. “...eyes!”
“Don’t believe him, Denlad. Just keep your blues on his greys and see if I’m not right.”
Denlad, younger than both men by at least twenty years and feeling less experienced by centuries, tried to focus on his Chieftain’s eyes. It wasn’t easy, for he always felt like Aragorn could see through to his very soul with those keen, assessing eyes of his. He swallowed and forced himself to watch Aragorn’s eyes as he took a few steps to the left. Aragorn followed suit, and they circled each other like spokes around an unseen hub.
Aragorn’s gaze glimmered with a fierce amusement that was echoed in the slight upward tilt of the corners of his firmly set lips. Denlad flexed his sweating hands on the hilt of his wooden sparring sword, feeling sudden sympathy for field mice under a hawk’s savage gaze. But then he noticed the barest change, a flicker at most, in Aragorn’s gaze and Denlad swept up his sword instinctively, blocking and turning aside Aragorn’s blade.
Surprise briefly widened Aragorn’s eyes, but Denlad’s exultation was short-lived as he found himself forced backward by a lightning barrage of more feints and thrusts than he could handle. Denlad parried two blows, ducked another. A desperate upward thrust blocked another with a noisy clatter, but then he slipped and found himself on his back, gasping and staring with almost crossed eyes at the quivering point of Aragorn’s blade, which hovered a hair’s breadth from the end of his nose.
“You stopped watching my eyes,” Aragorn murmured, barely breathing hard.
Denlad didn’t dare nod for fear of impaling a nostril on the end of the Chieftain’s sword, which, although wooden, still looked very sharp at this intensely close range. “Y-yes, sir.”
A gentle laugh and the sword vanished and a hand appeared instead. He grasped it and Aragorn hauled him to his feet. “Unharmed, I hope?”
“Yes, sir.” Intact as to body, perhaps, but as for pride...
Halbarad laid an arm across Denlad’s shoulders. “You saw, didn’t you? That little flicker.”
“Yes, but after that he grew sixteen more arms and at least eight swords,” Denlad muttered.
Aragorn smiled and Halbarad slapped Denlad’s shoulder. “Take heart. Yours is not the first arse our Strider has dumped in the dust. Just be glad you’re not an orc. The only thing he lets them see in his eyes is their death.”
Denlad glanced uncertainly toward Aragorn, whose gaze now seemed no more dangerous than a soft breeze on a sunny day. But even as he returned the look, Aragorn smiled wickedly and the warmth turned to steel, and Denlad shivered, suddenly exceedingly glad he was not an orc.
