Elvish Imperfection
By Angaaldaien
Summary: Legolas muses upon men, elves,
and perfection
Pairing: Legolas/?
Rating: G
Genre: One-shot
Warnings: Slash hints
Notes: This could conceivably have an agnsty plot, but I don't truly care to
expand upon it. It is mostly
musings upon elves and men. There is reference to slash.
Email: angaaldaien@hotmail.com
Date of posting: 9/8/02
Some say that we, as a race or as an individual are perfect. They even go as far as to impudently declare us the embodiment of perfection. But none of them know.
Middle Earth's inhabitants compare us to man, and in that they achieve their conclusion of elvish perfection. I will not deny that when elves are compared to men, we are the obvious victors in many areas. But that does little to lead to perfection.
Even man himself reveres us as gods and goddesses. Some fear us, as is only natural, for they do not know us. Others respect us, and some even protect us when we need no protection.
It is all for our beauty, never our mind.
It is true, I am bitter because of it. For my imperfection became heavily apparent with the arrival of one man. Yet, he sees nothing of who I am; all that he sees is what his eyes tell him.
His eyes tell him that I am beautiful; they show him a higher level of beauty. And they deny even the slightest possibility that I could worship him back. I see his lust; I feel it hidden within the tensions of his body. But it could never blossom into love; the reason of man would not let it be so. The reason of man tells him no elf would love one such as he, even though it has never known the heart of an elf, the reason bases itself upon what the eyes tell him.
"What do you think on?"
The man must be wondering why I pause for so long, and I am slow with answer. "I think of the differences between man and elf."
"Aye, so you wonder such too?"
A wry smile adorns his rugged face, weathered with hardship, so different from mine, mine of youth and beauty. It is an honest smile, light in its relative ignorance and youth. He regards me with respect, something so formal it creates a barrier that I know not how to breach – and perhaps I am not capable of doing so. I know my attraction, its reasons and its downfalls. It's a foolish attraction, for elf to love man; it should not be so. For all the history of Middle Earth, man has always loved elf, as far as one race can love another. I, however, love a man for him, his soul.
Some say of elves that they are perfect beings; beings so enthralling one could watch an elf for a lifetime and still be astounded. They say that man is worthless in comparison, imperfect in everyway, and that man should never be allowed to taint elf. Elves are too holy, too precious, and too beautiful. We are merely for looking, porcelain pieces that could break at any moments handling. It is man's misguided effort to protect the beauty he sees, trying to preserve the only thing he perceives as perfect. They say that we are perfection, the exact embodiment of it.
How then, do they explain the love for imperfection?
END
Post-Musings: Who did you think of when you read this? ^_^; I've forgotten who I had in mind when writing it... aragorn... boromir... any other man?