I own nothing. Nothing at all.
My version of how Gimli and Legolas became friends. No slash. Please review and tell me if you want me to continue. I have another chapter ready and waiting!
He could not control it anymore. Yet... he must. He must control it. He must be strong... but it was no good. His grasp was slipping. He could feel the old desperation bubbling up. He had only felt that once before. Only once. And that was when his mother and brother had been killed. Murdered.
Murdered... they had been murdered. Just like he had murdered Gandalf. Dear, cranky old Gandalf. He had been a great friend right from Day One. He had walked in when the rest of the world walked out. If it were not for Gandalf his family would have starved to death many winters ago. Gandalf had saved his life many times before now.
And now he had killed him.
Murderer. A voice lauhed cruelly in the back of his head. Murderer.... murderer.... you are a murderer.
"No!"
He dropped to the ground beside a silver stream, running like a pure ribbon through the trees. He bowed his head, his copper-red hair falling forwards, hiding his rough, dirt-stained face, his fingers buried between the thick locks of hair on his head. He squeezed his eyes tight shut as the grief overwhelmed him. His heart ached. Rather, his chest ached where his heart should have been. He felt so empty... yet, he ws not. The emptiness was there, yet it was made up of pain. Pain ripped throughout his body, tearing his soul apart. He could bear it no longer. Guilt racked his frame, the tiny voice inside his haed becoming louder... louder... throbbing inside his head, beating rytmically, tauntingly inside his eardrums.
*Murderer... murderer... murderer.... MURDERER!*
"No!" his voice caught against an unbroken sob that tore at his throat. His tears were building up inside his eyes, burning against his lids. One escaped and ran down his cheek.
"Why do I keep losing everyone!?" he cried to the heavens, as though that would help him. But no one could help him now.
*Murderer... murderer... murderer... MURDERER!*
The darkness that had been brooding inside of his very soul for years uncounted suddenly broke free, rising up, up, up... consuming him, pulling him down into darkness. He must resist! Hhe msut not let it win! But... oh it was tempting... SO tempting! He did not have the right to exist anymore. It should have been him falling down that abyss. He did not deserve to live.
*Murderer....*
"Please! No more... leave me alone..."
The pain was all. It always had been and always would be. There was no reprieve, no end to the on-going torture inflicted into his heart and soul.
A slender, strong arm wrapped around his shaking shoulders. The owner of that arm flinched slightly at the touch, but held it steady.
The pain lessened slightly, as though chased away by the slight comfort offered to him. the owner of the arm spoke softly, in a voice so sweet and music as he ringing of silver bells.
"Steady now... just steady. Come on, come back to us. Fight it,"
How did he know? How did he know what he was trying to wage a never-ending battle against? How could he? Why did he care? Why was he here?
"Fight, Gimli! Fight!"
He fought. He struggled against the ever-growing darkness, forced it down. It took so much effort... he was so tired... but he kept going, kept fighting, until it was forced back ad bottled up again. With a sigh of relief, he relaxed and came back to the world of Light. And, as he did so, his guard came down, heartache and exhaustion took over, and he wept.
Please review. Danke.
My version of how Gimli and Legolas became friends. No slash. Please review and tell me if you want me to continue. I have another chapter ready and waiting!
He could not control it anymore. Yet... he must. He must control it. He must be strong... but it was no good. His grasp was slipping. He could feel the old desperation bubbling up. He had only felt that once before. Only once. And that was when his mother and brother had been killed. Murdered.
Murdered... they had been murdered. Just like he had murdered Gandalf. Dear, cranky old Gandalf. He had been a great friend right from Day One. He had walked in when the rest of the world walked out. If it were not for Gandalf his family would have starved to death many winters ago. Gandalf had saved his life many times before now.
And now he had killed him.
Murderer. A voice lauhed cruelly in the back of his head. Murderer.... murderer.... you are a murderer.
"No!"
He dropped to the ground beside a silver stream, running like a pure ribbon through the trees. He bowed his head, his copper-red hair falling forwards, hiding his rough, dirt-stained face, his fingers buried between the thick locks of hair on his head. He squeezed his eyes tight shut as the grief overwhelmed him. His heart ached. Rather, his chest ached where his heart should have been. He felt so empty... yet, he ws not. The emptiness was there, yet it was made up of pain. Pain ripped throughout his body, tearing his soul apart. He could bear it no longer. Guilt racked his frame, the tiny voice inside his haed becoming louder... louder... throbbing inside his head, beating rytmically, tauntingly inside his eardrums.
*Murderer... murderer... murderer.... MURDERER!*
"No!" his voice caught against an unbroken sob that tore at his throat. His tears were building up inside his eyes, burning against his lids. One escaped and ran down his cheek.
"Why do I keep losing everyone!?" he cried to the heavens, as though that would help him. But no one could help him now.
*Murderer... murderer... murderer... MURDERER!*
The darkness that had been brooding inside of his very soul for years uncounted suddenly broke free, rising up, up, up... consuming him, pulling him down into darkness. He must resist! Hhe msut not let it win! But... oh it was tempting... SO tempting! He did not have the right to exist anymore. It should have been him falling down that abyss. He did not deserve to live.
*Murderer....*
"Please! No more... leave me alone..."
The pain was all. It always had been and always would be. There was no reprieve, no end to the on-going torture inflicted into his heart and soul.
A slender, strong arm wrapped around his shaking shoulders. The owner of that arm flinched slightly at the touch, but held it steady.
The pain lessened slightly, as though chased away by the slight comfort offered to him. the owner of the arm spoke softly, in a voice so sweet and music as he ringing of silver bells.
"Steady now... just steady. Come on, come back to us. Fight it,"
How did he know? How did he know what he was trying to wage a never-ending battle against? How could he? Why did he care? Why was he here?
"Fight, Gimli! Fight!"
He fought. He struggled against the ever-growing darkness, forced it down. It took so much effort... he was so tired... but he kept going, kept fighting, until it was forced back ad bottled up again. With a sigh of relief, he relaxed and came back to the world of Light. And, as he did so, his guard came down, heartache and exhaustion took over, and he wept.
Please review. Danke.