Light. Peaceful, caring light was poured all over his face. Seraphic eyes were closed but weak, unnamed colors were sorrowfully dancing before the dark, crashing with each other and breaking together, into a new color, then again dancing and fading. Heart in his chest was beating on its own way and he could feel every faint blow that was pumping blood through his veins. His breath was leaving his body at regular intervals. A serene smile was shaped on his lips. Slowly, he opened his eyes.
That light in that strange room was too strong. His view was blurred at the corners and everything was slowed down. Carefully, he lifted his head and sighed when he felt pressure in his tired body. He stood up but it seemed like his body wouldn't listen to him. Like he had no control over it. Small stabs licked down his flesh as if the blood just then started to feed it with its vital energy.
One figure moved down the room but its shape was slightly cloudy for the colors were lazily following the body. The Elf traced it with his heavy eyes.
"Mother?"- he whispered and his voice sounded not like a one but hundred of voices mingled together, low and fading.
Trembling figure turned around and everything he could see were blue eyes staring at him. The rest of it was wrapped in the light. She smiled and looked before herself, staring through the window.
"Mother?- he called again and moved towards her but his footsteps were footsteps of a dreamer, weak and barely noticeable.
"What are you looking at?"- he tried louder and the sleeping voice crushed itself on the walls that ate it and left the room empty.
She was still staring before herself and he noticed something red in her shivering, shining hands. A flower.
She sighed sadly and caressed its petals. As her fingers were touching, one by one, scarlet petals started to lose their color as if they were flushed. Slowly, they were dying, becoming sere. Bloodless.
"Can you smell it?"- her voice, burdened with sorrow of something that is passing asked, silently choking and crying.
He could. Hard but calm scent of the flower filled his nostrils. He took a deep breath and smiled.
"Amaryllis."- he was whispering while the silver notes of his voice were falling down, in the white, forever lost.
She looked at him, stretching her arm out with the almost white flower in her hand.
"Amaryllis, yes. A sere amaryllis, my son. The soul of a human."- like a scattered glass were her words, small and impossible to collect and keep.
Strange uneasiness filled his body. He breathed out.
"The soul of a human?"- he asked again, slowly moving towards her.
There was no answer. She stared through the window. Legolas moved faster, eager to see what was that scene that occupied his mother.
Men with no faces carried the opened, white coffin. Red flowers were laid on the person that was lying inside of it. Amaryllis. Legolas curiosly watched when a wave of hard, peaceful scent hit his face. It send an electric blast of horror through his being. It was too peaceful. It was deathly peaceful. He shuddered and took a step back.
"Who is that?"- he asked.
People were calmly passing when his voice betrayed him.
"Wait!"- he shouted at them, afraid that they may not hear him. To his own surprise, they stopped.
"Don't leave."- the voice of his mother pleaded, even weaker this time.
Legolas shook his head but his eyes were fixed on the red flowers on the coffin. He took a step forward and his breath left his body in a ragged sigh of shock when he found himself just before the coffin.
He turned around but his mother was gone.
Men with no faces were still, looking before themselves and holding the coffin on their shoulders.
"Who is that? May I see?"- Legolas asked. His hand was outstretched, eager to take one bloody flower from the corpse.
They obeyed and knelt down. Legolas looked at the face of the dead man that was laid before him. Red flowers made contrast to the pale, gone face. The Elf recognized him. His scream of pain that tore heavy silence apart was the last thing he heard.
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Legolas shuddered in his dream and his eyes snapped wide open. He was panting while faint lines of cold sweat were glistening across his face. One uncontrolled, quiet giggle thrashed his body when he put hand over his chest. He could feel fast, hard blows of his heart that was beating like a wild drum.
"Just a dream."- he whispered and removed strands of his hair from face. One hand was laid over his eyes and the other one was still over his heart that was slowly becoming serene.
The Elf was lying like that for some time but his mind wasn't completely blank. He could see scenes from his doomed dream. Quiet, ill grief filled his being when he thought about his mother. Legolas sighed and rolled on his side.
Large chamber was dark- heavy curtains were blocking shy attempts of the Sun that was fighting to light up the room. But yet he could see the man's sleeping body next to him. Aragorn's shadowed contures were peaceful. His bare chest was rising and falling in itself steadily. Few restless strands of his dark hair were covering his cheeks but Legolas could see the man's face.
He moved his body nearer until he was pressed against the warm flesh. With one hand, he removed the hair from the man's face and gently grabbed his chin so he can look at him more closely. His other hand Legolas moved across Aragorn's chest and yet back up, so he can rest it on the side of the man's neck. He felt the pulse beneath his touch. That calmed him and he lowered himself down. With his forhead, he tenderly pushed Aragorn's head back and rested his nose on the man's. Their lips were barely touching but what Legolas wanted wasn't a kiss- he wanted to feel the breathing.
The Elf closed his eyes tightly and breathed out, into Aragorn's face. As a response to this, he felt heated air spreading across his nose and cheeks. His fingers were gingerly moving, tracing the lines on the man's neck. Skin was shivering under his touch that tickled.
Legolas dugged his nails into Aragorn's flesh as his previous horror was coming back again in low tides. Aragorn squirmed uncomfortably and mumbled something but he was still asleep.
The Elf pressed their forheads together and remained to lay still, although he was quite sure that the man must be slightly chocked from this closeness. At last, he felt light, moving pressure over his eyelids.
Aragorn breathed out harder and blinked few times, adjusting his eyes to the darkness, but everything his eyes could capture were tightly closed eyelids and the mass of golden hair. Warm body pressed against his was heating him yet more, so he instinctively moved back in order to cool himself off. When he noticed that the Elf had no intention to move even a bit, he gave up and moved his arm under Legolas and tenderly pulled his locks from behind. Aragorn yawned for he was still sleepy and closed his eyes. After few minutes, he became aware of the rising pressure on his neck that was turning into pure pain. He narrowed his eyebrows but he didn't open his eyes.
"Legolas, you are scratching me."- he mumbled in hoarse, sleeping tone.
Legolas jerked as he fell back into reality. He relaxed his fingers and sighed. He opened his eyes a bit and stared at the sheets but his mind was still lying elsewhere. He rested his head on the man's shoulder.
"What is it?"- Aragorn asked quietly, as if he was afraid he might wake someone up. He needed to talk and shake off his sleepiness.
At first, Legolas was quiet but when Aragorn pulled his hair somewhat harder, he realized that the man wanted an answer.
"I had a dream."- he simply responded.
Aragorn mumbled something and continued to caress the elven long hair.
"What was your dream about?"- he moved on with their conversation, half interested and half asleep.
"Maybe I've used a wrong word. It was more a nightmare."- Legolas said and closed his eyes just when Aragorn's flickered open in the dark.
He tried to lift himself up but Legolas sighed in disappointment and pressed his hand onto Aragorn's chest, pushing him back down.
"Lay down, please."- he said and Aragorn lowered himself again. To assure that he won't try it again, Legolas rested his head on the man's chest. The last thing he wanted is to get up and meet other people in the palace. He smiled bitterly.
"Tell me about it."- Aragorn started again and looked at the still form of the Elf.
Legolas slowly opened his eyes and absently looked at his fingers. He was quiet for some time.
"I dreamed that you were dead."- he couldn't find any other words or any other way that would be better than this one, so he simply let it fell down his mouth. He shivered at this plain conclusion. To his surprise, he felt Aragorn shuddering under him but when he lifted his head, he saw that the man was chuckling.
He was only looking down at the man and sudden sorrow started to flow through his veins. When Aragorn caught his expression that seemed somewhat broken, he stopped but he couldn't supress a small curve of his smile.
"Forgive me, lirimaer, but you have scared me for a moment. I thought that it was something way more serious and stressing by your behaviour."- he smiled in the dark and caressed Legolas' plain features.
"It was stressing for me."- his eyes, now dark blue, were wider than usual.
"Aye, come here."- Aragorn said and pulled the Elf down. The man tried to relax the Elf's suddenly rigid form by soothing his tensed shoulders.
"It is said among mere people that it is not a bad thing when one dreams about a living soul as a dead one. They say that way you extend his or hers life. It is only bad when you dream about the dead ones, when they call for you or something like that."- Aragorn explained but it was obvious that he didn't believe in those kind of things.
"Either way, I am sorry for that have shaken you. But please, don't be blue. It is just a dream."- he murmured.
"It.. The more I think about it, the more I believe it is not just a dream. It seemed so real.. Almost like a prophecy."- Legolas spoke in unsure tone. The view of a red flower in his mother's hand, Aragorn's pale face with forever closed eyes… Legolas shook his head.
"Yes, a dream can be doomed and it can play games with your mind. If that will calm you, you can find someone in the palace. There are people who believe they can explain dreams. To me, they are only a bunch of charlatans with poor knowledge in cheap magic."
Legolas supported himself on elbows and studied Aragorn's face.
"I don't want to have anything with them. I am in no mood for mortals who play with something that is not naturaly given to them."- he nearly hissed.
Aragorn laughed.
"I told you. So leave it behind for there are, I am sure, many dreams, good or bad, awaiting for you."- he said and kissed eerily still lips and jumped off the bed. He moved the curtains aside and the Sun has finally won the battle. Legolas blinked few times.
Sensing that this conversation was over, he accapted Aragorn's advice but he couldn't fully forget. There were other things awaiting for him. He moaned.
Aragorn was already lost in the other part of the room that was conjoined to his chamber, in the bath.
Legolas slowly stood up when he heard a knock on the door in the third part of Aragorn's room. He rolled his eyes but then he let out a tortured sigh. He didn't even bother to listen to the conversation between Aragorn and one of the servants. The door were closed but not before more people went in. He took the first piece of clothing he saw and wrapped himself in it. He lazily moved to the other part of this silly large room, pushed one armchair agaisnt the hard wall and sat on it, prepared to watch this so common show.
Few people were standing, obviously waiting for Elessar, in rush to tell him something. Two maidens were behind them, waiting too. And all of them were completely ignoring the Elf that was sitting just few meters away from them. This kind of mornings were the ones he hated the most.
After some time, Aragorn appeared and only sighed as they started to talk. The maidens moved to him, giving him clothing and helping him to dress, as fast as possible.
The Elf was quietly sitting and watching as they were dressing Aragorn, listening to their voices that were telling that there was a problem.
Eight years have passed. Winter, summer, then winter again and again. And neither the Elf was used to the people here nor the people have accapted him. Legolas realized that the King wasn't a free man- he was chained like a wild animal, forced to obey his people. Slowly he started to understand the ways of the passing mortals, but he never accepted them. To him, most of them were too fast in talking or making decisions, impatient and eager to posses. Things or people- it mattered little to them. And to them he was a stranger, someone with no past or touching spots with their world. Someone too tamed and more made of legends than flesh. Noble people of Minas Tirith only understood that the King wanted him here, but was he a lord, a prince, or the King's pernament fun- that they didn't understand. And, after some time, they stopped to think about it.
Legolas accepted that his and Aragorn's time wasn't anymore theirs, and theirs alone. Instead to require it from Aragorn, he started to create it. He learned to ignore the soldiers that were standing on every corner and Elessar's persistent subjects. Aragorn's life was much more complicated than Legolas expected and it shocked him at first when he realized how much he had to share. Soon he started to follow him, as a shadow. Legolas would sit near him in the main hall while Aragorn would speak to his subjects. When Aragorn would catch the look of blue eyes staring at him, he would smile and return his attention back to his work. The Elf understood that the smile was like a promise that this would be soon over and he would smile too, knowing that the end was everything but near. Simply, he had no heart to make this any harder.
It was painfully obvious to him how much Elessar needed rest and silence. But, no matter how hard he tried to adjust his home to Legolas, the Elf could feel the constant depression in the halls, walls, gardens.. Too many eyes on him that were seeing him as a stranger, intruder.. The only thing in here that reminded him of home were Aragorn and Bjarte.
And it is, thought Legolas, enough to try to call this place home.
Aragorn turned around and Legolas lost the line of his thoughts.
"I'll be back, there is something happening in the eastern tower. We'll meet in the dining hall."- he smiled.
Legolas lightly nodded. The man moved towards him and lifted the Elf's head up, eager to kiss his lips once more. People in the room only looked away.
When he was finally left alone, Legolas sighed in relief.
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The Elf was walking through the hall peacefully, looking at the shields that were here and there hanging on the walls, white statues and torches.
He found himself in the opened hall and smiled happily to eventually get some fresh air. He looked up at the blue sky but either way he stopped walking before he hit the basket that was laid on the stone floor. The Elf looked down, assuming that it must be some clothing, left here by some forgetful servant and he was already prepared to pass by but he stopped dead still, as if his feet were nailed to the ground.
The basket was filled with flowers. There were few pieces of bark and one nettle but they were drowned in this little sea made of blood-like flowers. Amaryllis.
The Elf was staring at them and everything around him faded away. Sudden horror filled his being and cold water crept under his skin. It seemed as he was looking down at them, he could re-experience his dream, once again.
Slowly he lowered himself down and took one flower in his hand. Like it was burning his skin and making his fears to become more vivid. Legolas shook his head wildly and tightened his grip around the flower. When he was about to hiss in anger and pain, one little figure carefully moved towards him.
He was very small, like a child, but he had the looking of a man. His spine was curled and it seemed like he couldn't stand properly. His dirty clothes were hanging on his deformed body and his black hair was in pure mess. More he moved like a four-legged animal, an over-grown rat than a man. But he managed to straight himself up a bit when he studied the elven face. His gray eyes were burning with warning and fear and he couldn't decide where he should look- at the basket or at the Elf.
One part of Legolas mind felt pity for this poor creature but the other part, far larger, was in rage. He was deathly still as he was piercing the creature with his cold, stern gaze.
"Is this yours?"- he asked quietly and pointed on basket but his cruel eyes weren't removed- they grasped the poor thing in their claws.
At first, it seemed that he was too scared to react. He was half sitting, half standing and uncomfortably moving from leg to leg, trying to shake off himself those merciless eyes.
"I asked something."- Legolas voice rose higher.
At last, the creature fearfully nodded with his deformed head. Legolas opened his mouth to speak but he felt footsteps behind himself. He turned around.
Tall, lithe figure was approaching them. The young man was dressed in simple, dark robe. His long, raven-black hair was hanging over his shoulders, half hiding his narrow, pale face. Under his eyes Legolas could see marks made by sleepless nights. His pale lips formed a tight line and he lifted his chin. For a second, Legolas captured a small tremble of the man's lower lip.
Legolas recognized him. The necromancer, the one Legolas saw on the square in Minas Tirith when he arrived with Aragorn.
"Devon."- he spoke quietly but all hair on his body was straightened up when he approached them. His body wanted to move and get away from this man but Legolas' will was made of steel- he remained to hold his ground.
Devon's young but tortured face smiled a bit but his achromatic eyes were unfriendly.
"Legolas."- he purred like a cat and carefully watched the Elf.
"I saw you only few times in my life, but you seem unchanged."- he smiled again.
Legolas raised his eyebrows a bit but said nothing. In the corner of his eye, he could see how the creature trembled and quietly hissed when he saw Devon.
Devon patiently waited for an answer but it became obvious that Legolas had no intention to give one after few minutes of rude silence.
Devon's eyes sparkled.
"Is there any problem?"- he asked gently and throw one look on the basket before the Elf's legs and one deathly glare on the creature.
"Someone left this basket here. What an odd place."- Legolas, although he had no intention, sounded like he was mocking.
The creature sobbed but neither the Elf nor the necromancer paid attention. Their eyes were fixed, tied in a hard knot.
"It is mine. Well, my servant's. I am sure he has a good explanation."- Devon spoke at last and took a step forward until he was standing next to Legolas.
Legolas couldn't relax himself. He could feel a pure wave of rotten breath that was radiating from Devon's clean body.
The necromancer smiled and took one flower from the basket.
"Ah, amaryllis. Isn't it beautiful?"- he asked and looked at the Elf.
Legolas couldn't lie.
"No, it is quite a gruesome flower to me."- he replied shortly and caught how Devon's pupils went wide for a second.
"May I ask why?"- his voice was gentle, but his lips were twitching.
"It simply is."- Legolas said coldly.
Devon's face was bitter as he felt he was cut off.
"Well, not so warm answer from a cooly composed Elf I thought you are."- he murmured more to himself.
"There are legends about this flower."- he said louder and patiently waited. Legolas seemed completely uninterested but he continued to lance the man with his eyes.
Devon forced a smile.
"I need them for my work, if you wanted to ask. Anyway, I have to leave."- he said shortly and looked at the creature.
He moved carefully to Legolas' feet as if he expected that he would hit him. When nothing happened, he took the basket in his hands and jumped back.
"Leave."- Devon whispered and the creature ran away.
"I hope we'll see each other soon, Legolas. Now, do enjoy the day."- the man said a common phrase but Legolas couldn't help but feel that this was a promise.
He only nodded his head and Devon gracefully walked away.
Legolas lifted his hand up and saw faint lines of the flower's juice that was sparkling on his pale skin. Torn petals were laid before his legs.
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Instead to go to the dining hall, Legolas went out. He took a bow and arrows with himself.
Sudden rage in him didn't fade away fully and he decided that the best thing he could do is to give himself a break. He didn't want to pour his anger on Aragorn.
And why he was angry Legolas didn't know. The fear of his dream maybe. But more than anything, Devon's presence dragged him to the very edge of the hill that was standing just above the fire.
He body was under control, but before his eyes he could only see the crimson flowers.
He was lancing the air with his arrows, capturing some unimportant spots and turning them into his targets. And each time he would pierce the very heart of his target.
His hands very steadily jerking as he would pull the string on his bow and send another arrow in freedom.
Legolas' eyes were calmly tracing the path of his arrows and he was barely moving his body. He needed to empty his mind.
"Legolas!"- one happy voice called for him.
Legolas continued his archery but he smiled.
"Aye, Bjarte."- he said as one young man stood next to him.
Bjarte was almost fully grown up. His preety face was smiling and his green eyes were glistening with joy.
"You are just better and better."- he said in adoration as he was eagerly trying to trace the path of Legolas' arrows.
"Well, I had eight years to practice. Aragorn has taught me much."- Legolas replied and lowered his bow down.
"Don't get me wrong, but"- Bjarte lowered his tone- "you seem way better in archery that the King Elessar is."
Legolas laughed, more because he was grateful Bjarte cheered him up with his presence than he paid attention to his words.
"I am sure I won't accidently tell that to Elessar."
"You aren't in the dining hall?"- Bjarte asked.
"I am heading there."- he replied.
Bjarte opened his mouth to ask something but they both heard Salin's voice.
"I have to leave too. Can we talk later?"- he moved immediately at the sound of the voice but he was still throwing looks over his shoulder.
"Yes, of course."- Legolas said and smiled. Bjarte was quite a help.
He took one last arrow in his hand when something small and red was formed in the corner of his eyes.
He lifted his head up and saw Devon's blurred frame that was leaned over the window on the western tower. In his conjoined hands, he was holding one red flower by its thin, green stalk. Devon's eyes were fixed on Legolas.
Before he could think about it, Legolas lifted his bow and throw one arrow right at Devon. Its steel peak lanced the flower and nailed it between small creaks of stone. The arrow remained to stay shoved in the white wall with the red flower poorly hanging.
Devon jerked back and his hands were immediately moved. Legolas' good eyes could see the man's face painted in disbelief and horror. At last, his features were of ice again, and he throw one uninterested look on the still, blond Elf. He disappeared from the window.
Legolas was looking at the pierced flower, the one from his nightmare.
