Merry and Pippin are gone, Boromir is dead, and Legolas has never killed in
hate before.
Fear, disgust, desperation, he has felt all of these in battle before, but removed, distant. Emotion has no place in a fight. In all his years he has touched neither bow nor blade with hatred in his heart.
But he will soon.
Orcs are abomination enough. Once Elves, they were twisted and tortured beyond recognition, but these Uruk-hai are worse. They curdle his blood. They killed Boromir, whom Legolas had counted as a brother. It had lightened his heart to hear the big man's laugh as he instructed his 'little ones' on the use of their small swords. Laughter was precious on a journey such as this.
Legolas had liked the Man of Gondor well, but that was not the whole reason for his hate. Aragorn was the other part. He had loved Boromir, and Legolas counted himself a fool for not realizing the depth of it until he stumbled into it.
The company had stopped for the night, Aragorn and Boromir had gone down to the river to fill the water bags, and Legolas had been scouting. He had slipped into the clearing where they stood, water bags forgotten by the stream, and Aragorn leaning back against the trunk of a tree, the length of Boromir's body pressed against his. Their kisses were slow, as if they were savoring it, and they well might; privacy was not readily found on the road.
Legolas had smiled to himself and slipped away entirely unnoticed. Later, when the company was eating, and Gandalf keeping the watch, he had asked Aragorn how the water was, and grinned at him when the Ranger cast him a strange look. After a moment, Aragorn's eyes widened slightly and he turned quickly back to his food, murmuring that the water was fine.
Legolas had laughed at Aragorn's expense while all the rest of the company had stared oddly at him with the exception of Boromir, who had laughed along with him. Aragorn had ignored them all. But later that night, when the company had gone to their blankets and Legolas stood watch, Aragorn had bid Boromir goodnight in Elvish.
"Quel kaima, melethron."
And Legolas had laughed softly into the night.
So Aragorn had loved Boromir, and Legolas, who had held the same love for Aragorn once, had delighted. It had ended much too quick. The Fellowship had broken, beauty and laughter, both gone with Boromir.
Legolas watches as Aragorn snugs Boromir's bracers around his arm. He has known Aragorn long enough to be able to read him, and the man is reckless, dangerous. Legolas cannot bring himself to care.
Merry and Pippin are gone, Boromir is dead, and Legolas has never killed in hate before.
He will soon.
Fear, disgust, desperation, he has felt all of these in battle before, but removed, distant. Emotion has no place in a fight. In all his years he has touched neither bow nor blade with hatred in his heart.
But he will soon.
Orcs are abomination enough. Once Elves, they were twisted and tortured beyond recognition, but these Uruk-hai are worse. They curdle his blood. They killed Boromir, whom Legolas had counted as a brother. It had lightened his heart to hear the big man's laugh as he instructed his 'little ones' on the use of their small swords. Laughter was precious on a journey such as this.
Legolas had liked the Man of Gondor well, but that was not the whole reason for his hate. Aragorn was the other part. He had loved Boromir, and Legolas counted himself a fool for not realizing the depth of it until he stumbled into it.
The company had stopped for the night, Aragorn and Boromir had gone down to the river to fill the water bags, and Legolas had been scouting. He had slipped into the clearing where they stood, water bags forgotten by the stream, and Aragorn leaning back against the trunk of a tree, the length of Boromir's body pressed against his. Their kisses were slow, as if they were savoring it, and they well might; privacy was not readily found on the road.
Legolas had smiled to himself and slipped away entirely unnoticed. Later, when the company was eating, and Gandalf keeping the watch, he had asked Aragorn how the water was, and grinned at him when the Ranger cast him a strange look. After a moment, Aragorn's eyes widened slightly and he turned quickly back to his food, murmuring that the water was fine.
Legolas had laughed at Aragorn's expense while all the rest of the company had stared oddly at him with the exception of Boromir, who had laughed along with him. Aragorn had ignored them all. But later that night, when the company had gone to their blankets and Legolas stood watch, Aragorn had bid Boromir goodnight in Elvish.
"Quel kaima, melethron."
And Legolas had laughed softly into the night.
So Aragorn had loved Boromir, and Legolas, who had held the same love for Aragorn once, had delighted. It had ended much too quick. The Fellowship had broken, beauty and laughter, both gone with Boromir.
Legolas watches as Aragorn snugs Boromir's bracers around his arm. He has known Aragorn long enough to be able to read him, and the man is reckless, dangerous. Legolas cannot bring himself to care.
Merry and Pippin are gone, Boromir is dead, and Legolas has never killed in hate before.
He will soon.