DISCLAIMER:
All characters, places, and lore belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I am naught but a humble fanatic and claim no ownership of these beautiful people or their world.
Hello dear readers,
Quick note on this one to just make sure everyone knows that this is pre-slash. Nothing sexual happens, but it's pure M/M romance written from Legolas' perspective, yet again playing with homophobia and secrecy. This was written to go along with my chapter story, Sing to Me, but I have decided to publish it because I think it can be read as a stand-alone piece. However, if you have read or plan to read Sing to Me, this is between Legolas and Allaë (for those of you who might potentially ship them) and is set somewhere after Erien's death but before Legolas gets married.
This piece is unbetad, so any mistakes are purely my own. I have never published something without having someone else look at it first, but here goes. I hope you enjoy :)
- Vanimalion
- The First Time -
The first time I touch him, it is awkward. The moment I touch him, he stiffens, as if I am any minute going to hit him. It is bitingly cold, winter, everything is frozen and the moon is but a sliver. The stars glimmer like shards of ice in the sky and we are hidden in some long-forgotten glade so far away from home, alone and completely afraid.
We have brought wine but we have had none of it, and yet still the truth has slipped from our tongues, completely sober and insane. I love you. Neither of us are maids, but like most deviants in a strict culture, our exploits have been less than ideal. Or at least mine have, and by the way he behaves, I am sure his have been as well. We need not say it, we know.
In the Greenwood it is considered wholly immoral for members of the same sex to share anything but friendship. It is seen as going against the will of Ilúvatar, upsetting the natural order, playing wrong notes in the Music. Neither of us can ever be discovered, our failings made public. It cannot happen. But we have been touched by the darkness and made wrong, and there is only so much we can do. Even I, a prince among elves, have not been able to make myself clean. Our lives are made mostly of secrets and lies, guilt and midnight meetings frantic and short.
Neither of us are untouched, yet there is something wholly different about being curled in the snow with someone, and confessing that you are so much more than friends, that the feelings are more than just lust or desire for experimentation.
The words came out in the dark, quiet, fearful, and in their wake we were bathed in elation, trepidation, the future and possibility thrilling and terrifying. Neither of us have ever thought it possible, neither of us have ever considered that we might be found worthy of love, let alone that it would be reciprocated. We are youths again, two boys who are only just beginning to see the world. A door has been thrown wide open, and we are both blinded by the light.
The first time I touch him, he freezes. He is middle-born and I am the prince, and though we have managed to maintain a secret friendship without issue, every breath of my fingers now holds the potential to be more than platonic, more than sexual - so much more than anything either of us have ever felt.
When I touch him in this cold, isolated place, he is tight as a bow string. I touch his face, run my fingers softly through chestnut hair, but he cannot meet my eyes. He is breathing too fast, and neither of our hearts will be steady. Finally he is able to look at me, and on this first night we say nothing more, only sit cross-legged in the hollowed-out shell of an ancient tree, knees touching, the tips of our fingers in a knot between us. All we do until the dawn is open our eyes wide as children. We see, and for the first time in so many years, we feel that we are seen in return. Observation, understanding, acceptance, reciprocated equally.
The second time I touch him, it is months later. We have been too cautious, too nervous, too afraid. We have seen little of each other, and the times we spent together were tense and expectant, but neither of us had the bravery to do anything about it. But the patrol I was on was a near thing indeed, and only a handful of us made it back alive. He was not allowed to visit me those weeks after my return, when I was in the healing ward, my blood and body filled with poisons. He heard little and he knew less, only assured, like the rest of the people, that I was still breathing.
The second time I touch him, it works. Neither of us care for our fear any longer, neither of us think of the judgment or the morality, or the consequences should we one day be found in our sin. When we see each other again he takes me and without a word presses his lips to my forehead. We stand for minutes, eyes closed, and then embrace. The snow is melted and everything is muddy beneath our feet, but we are alone together. We have secreted ourselves away, and we are forever done wasting time with hesitation. We clutch each other as though we may drown, as though we are the only salvation. We breathe together, breath hitching, and his fingers clench into my back as if he will never let me go. So hard, so desperate. I never want to let go, because no-one else has ever held me like this. No-one else has seen me this way and opened their arms to take me, and stay. No-one else has ever loved me like this. And I swear that we will find a way to make it work. Against all odds, laws, cultural restrictions, we will find a way, because I have never loved anyone as I love him, and nothing this beautiful can be evil.
- X -
I feel as though I have woken
Spread the lids of my eyes to see
Acceptance
And Peace
I need no noise, glamour, shine
I have been opened
I am learning the languages of love
Of souls
Of poetry
To be a willing student of this world
And feel the sacred beauty
Is forever more than enough
For me
- End -