...first steps...
//story form--written this way to spare italics//
The unicorn pinned its ears as its first steps into the world were greeted with freezing cold nearly up to his knees. He looked down at the cold, white snow that he was now standing in, then over his shoulder where he had come from. A moment before he would have seen a drastic change, from the ocean lapping the shore to this landscape. Now, there was only the snow and the trees.
It was just as well. This land itself was what he had ventured here for. The feel of it was different, from the snow that clung to and froze his hooves, to the cold air that he drew into his lungs. Since he had begun to understand the ways of his own land again he had developed the feeling that he needed to return to this place. There was something here that was the missing piece to who he had been before the changes.
He paused as he came upon the road. Two ruts ran along its length, showing where carts had been. There were some footprints in the snow beside the cart's path. Knowing the customs of the small people that lived in these lands, he wondered why they were not all at home eating hot meals instead of wandering around in the snow with their bare feet. He lifted a hoof and inspected it, how the snow clumped in the hair, and tried to remember what it felt like to have feet. Tried to remember what it felt like to have feet and walk through the snow...
The road was the best way to get to where he was going. Before he left for his journey he had sought out Hobbiton in his own land and memorized the lay of the town. This road, he reasoned, would surely lead him into Hobbiton itself and then up towards Bag End... with the green door. After that was the smial he was actually looking for. Back End. He thought it a peculiar name, but that is what resonated with him... Back End...I lived there, once...
Despite the tracks he was following, he saw few others on the road as he entered Hobbiton and sought his way towards Bag End. He was thankful for the deserted nature of the town as it gave in to the chilly weather... he was left alone to his thoughts and his attempts to remember exactly why this place drew him so strongly.
The road crested, and there was the bright green door at the top of the hill, marking Bag End. He paused for a moment and looked at the smial, comparing it to the one in his land and quietly admiring how the snow fell just so over the gardens and flower beds. But it was time to move on, further back towards the smial that had really brought him here. He made his way quickly, a sense of urgency making his muscles quiver as the smial came into his line of sight. He moved on until the details became clearer...and he could see the warm glow from the windows. Inside, he could see vague details of the hobbits... two kissed, arms around eachother.
He stopped in his tracks when he caught a flash of golden hair and a warm smile. When the other hobbit's features became clear to him his head felt like it was spinning. There was something too familiar about this place, too familiar about that hobbit. He sat down heavily in the snow and began to wonder if he'd made the right decision in coming here... if he was ready to face that feeling that his head was spinning every time he saw that particular hobbit.
...Bingo....
The cold of the snow was slowly creeping up his haunches but it didn't matter. He could always warm up. He had to remember what had happened here. He had to remember who he was. He knew that until he got a better grasp on that... there was nothing he could say about who he had been and he certainly could not dare to take that shape.
Not until the spinning feeling went away. Not until he remembered...
He laid down in the snow, glad for the cover his solid white coat granted, and kept a watchful eye on the warm windows of Back End.
The unicorn pinned its ears as its first steps into the world were greeted with freezing cold nearly up to his knees. He looked down at the cold, white snow that he was now standing in, then over his shoulder where he had come from. A moment before he would have seen a drastic change, from the ocean lapping the shore to this landscape. Now, there was only the snow and the trees.
It was just as well. This land itself was what he had ventured here for. The feel of it was different, from the snow that clung to and froze his hooves, to the cold air that he drew into his lungs. Since he had begun to understand the ways of his own land again he had developed the feeling that he needed to return to this place. There was something here that was the missing piece to who he had been before the changes.
He paused as he came upon the road. Two ruts ran along its length, showing where carts had been. There were some footprints in the snow beside the cart's path. Knowing the customs of the small people that lived in these lands, he wondered why they were not all at home eating hot meals instead of wandering around in the snow with their bare feet. He lifted a hoof and inspected it, how the snow clumped in the hair, and tried to remember what it felt like to have feet. Tried to remember what it felt like to have feet and walk through the snow...
The road was the best way to get to where he was going. Before he left for his journey he had sought out Hobbiton in his own land and memorized the lay of the town. This road, he reasoned, would surely lead him into Hobbiton itself and then up towards Bag End... with the green door. After that was the smial he was actually looking for. Back End. He thought it a peculiar name, but that is what resonated with him... Back End...I lived there, once...
Despite the tracks he was following, he saw few others on the road as he entered Hobbiton and sought his way towards Bag End. He was thankful for the deserted nature of the town as it gave in to the chilly weather... he was left alone to his thoughts and his attempts to remember exactly why this place drew him so strongly.
The road crested, and there was the bright green door at the top of the hill, marking Bag End. He paused for a moment and looked at the smial, comparing it to the one in his land and quietly admiring how the snow fell just so over the gardens and flower beds. But it was time to move on, further back towards the smial that had really brought him here. He made his way quickly, a sense of urgency making his muscles quiver as the smial came into his line of sight. He moved on until the details became clearer...and he could see the warm glow from the windows. Inside, he could see vague details of the hobbits... two kissed, arms around eachother.
He stopped in his tracks when he caught a flash of golden hair and a warm smile. When the other hobbit's features became clear to him his head felt like it was spinning. There was something too familiar about this place, too familiar about that hobbit. He sat down heavily in the snow and began to wonder if he'd made the right decision in coming here... if he was ready to face that feeling that his head was spinning every time he saw that particular hobbit.
...Bingo....
The cold of the snow was slowly creeping up his haunches but it didn't matter. He could always warm up. He had to remember what had happened here. He had to remember who he was. He knew that until he got a better grasp on that... there was nothing he could say about who he had been and he certainly could not dare to take that shape.
Not until the spinning feeling went away. Not until he remembered...
He laid down in the snow, glad for the cover his solid white coat granted, and kept a watchful eye on the warm windows of Back End.