Title: Making Sense of the Ruins
Author: Minka - MinkaGreenleaf@aol.com
Rating: PG
Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn
Genre: wait and see…
Summary: Delves into the raison d'être and events that shaped Legolas' resolution to sail over the sea subsequent to Aragorn's death. Terse, poignant, vignette for Rhysenn's "The Alliance of Elves and Men" challenge. Slash.
Special Note: written for Rhysenn's "The Alliance of Elves and Men" challenge in which it received an Honorable Mention *does not know which picture of the Two Towers to stare at for longer!*
I hope you enjoy – I warn you that it is a little weird!
*****
The dust trickled through his fingers, being borne unto the wind, never again to return to the spot that was once considered its place on the earth. Watching it go, the lone figure stood upon the cliff overlooking the sea, his heart closed and his eyes vacant. The wind wafted his golden locks about his face, the thin, shining strands feeling like the kiss of a whip against his skin; a result of his current contempt held towards himself while the silky excess of his sleeves and shirt lapped about his wrists and chest like running water around one's ankles.
Normally the waters would be calming; normally he would be able to look out into their never-ending area of dark sea-blue and enjoy the feeling of space, of openness, and succumb to the wild notion that flowed through him: telling him that, on some level, he was standing at the edge of the world. He loved the way the sea seemed to blend with the sky -- the horizon smudged out of sight and perception into a deep contour of contrasting cobalt, making the only thing to distinguish the two surfaces the occasional dark silhouette of a gull as it flew past, its cry bouncing off the waves before being completely lost, even to his ears.
It was a day like no other, the sun shining down on the beautiful water of The Bay of Belfalas, her rays playing tricks with the constant, rhythmic flow of the light current at the meeting of the Auduin. The sun seemed to hover higher then usual, her rays brighter, more vibrant, as she graced the world with both light and heat; the two things that the watching Elf no longer wanted to feel.
A hand on his shoulder made him flinch slightly. He had neither heard the stranger's approach nor felt their presence at his back; in plain truth, he was just not expecting anyone to be there or to know where he was. The hand seemed to slowly massage his skin, the loving contact the only thing that the Elf wanted to know on such a day. The sun could not make such fire stir in his body; the cool waters could not calm his nerves and fears. Naught in the world could do what that hand could, that hand that rested upon his shoulder now, kneading the skin like it was dough.
The Elf instantly lifted his head as he turned, knowing that the stranger's eyes would be slightly higher then his. An ice blue gaze traveled up sun tanned skin, lingered on browned lips framed by the remains of a mustache and trailed up wavy dark hair before finally locking onto matching dark eyes.
Such a contrast -- the blue and the black; like the sky of the day and the sky of the night. Two different worlds, completely apart and yet interwoven in such a fashion that one could not live without the other. They depended upon each other, like a warrior to his weapon when faced with an enemy; went hand in hand and yet seemed to walk a path constantly divided.
"Legolas..." the man breathed, needing to say the name one more time; needing to have it floating upon the wind that surrounded them.
The hushed spoken word sent shivers up and down the Elf's spine, making his body quake with both need and want...the need to hear it again and the want to hear it forever. The way the human spoke his name, the way 'Legolas' seemed to roll so easily off his tongue -- almost as if it were poetic -- made him tingle, as if needles and pins were pricking him gently all over.
The human took a step forward, his eyes never once leaving the Elf's gaze as he hurriedly closed the gap between them while heating the cold emotion of the Elf with his mere presence. Fingers curled, knuckles bared, the figure lifted his hand, brushing it lightly upon marble skin, a smile of pleasure upon his face.
A touch; again something he was not expecting. Something that, while comforting, put him in a great deal of inner turmoil. Such a thing should not be, could not be...not between them. Not now. But nay, Legolas could not fight it, could not overcome the need to have it stay upon his skin till the end of time. Who was he to deny them both what they wanted? What they needed!
Reaching out, Legolas made to take the human's hand in his -- to hold that warming touch in place and force the human to never let go. Closing his eyes in ecstasy, Legolas ever so slowly moved his hand up, up to the strong wrist and hand that was pressed against his skin. He knew what the other would feel like; the calluses -- he could almost have counted them and retained the number within his head -- the slight hairs that grew at the joining of the wrist, the warmth that radiated from the skin; he knew and loved it all.
As his hand found its destination, a slight gasp escaped his lips and his eyes shot open. This time there was no heat, no small thrilling jolt passing through his skin as he held the man before him; only air. Hollow air, and the gentle flapping of his unlaced sleeve in the breeze as he strived to reach what was never even there.
A figment; an illusion, a deception of his own mind which was forever working silently against him... trying to unravel him and bring him to his knees.
Sighing deeply, Legolas looked to his right and to the crashing waves that seemed to have picked up intensity with the mirage that had befallen him.
"Just an image," he told himself quietly, his eyes still locked upon the rocks that broke the waves against the base of the cliff.
"Legolas...come here!" the man's voice again, calling to him from the Elf's left. Knowing that it was not real -- that there was no way that it could be -- Legolas still found himself turning towards the sound of the voice. He had never been able to refuse his lover anything, never been able to say 'no' to the littlest of things.
"Aragorn?" the Elf found himself saying, his words lost almost immediately as they hit the wind, "Aragorn, where are you?"
"Forever mine, my love, you are forever mine…"
Words long since spoken but never forgotten, repeated on a nightly basis and more so in moments of pleasure.
"...Until the end of time..."
The reply, constant and spoken strong, not a hint of untruth or fear within the tone. Only truth, always truth as nothing else mattered between them, nothing else counted as being important; truth and love. Neither took heed of the words that were spoken outside of their liaison and not by them. They did not matter, the thoughts and opinions of others were non-existent as long as they could hold each other in sight throughout the day and caress each other at night.
Blocking the voices from his head with an angry shake, Legolas turned on his heels and made for the woods that he so loved, not even a second glance at the crashing waters way below him.
Walking briskly back towards the line of trees that stood like soldiers ready for war, he once again saw the man. This time he was crouched by the side of the forest, bow in hand, just like the many times he had seen him before. He was seeing to a fire, or so Legolas thought, and, as the Elf kept walking while silently observing, the man looked up to him, his storm-grey eyes dancing with joy and a smile declaring undying love upon his lips.
The ranger rose, his right arm held outstretched, palm open and up, beckoning for Legolas to come to him -- to place his pale hand in the one of darker and more textured skin. Feeling his mind submit to his heart, Legolas found his steps to be automatically walking towards the human that he knew not to be there.
Just one more touch, one more kiss before he left, before he died within Legolas' memories like he had in life.
"Legolas...my love."
Reaching for the man, Legolas tried to swallow the sobs that he felt forcing their way up his throat. So much pain, so much grief... it was almost unbearable. Just to hear his voice again was both a blessing and a curse, bringing his defenses down and turning them into something well beyond recognition and repair.
A mere inch, and their skin would be touching. A mere inch, and he could feel what he so desired…an inch closer and all he felt was air.
Expelling a great breath in frustration and letting his shoulders drop, Legolas just stared at the space that had just held his lover, showing Aragorn as clear as if he were alive and standing right before him. But now all he saw was an emptiness that mirrored his very heart.
Tears welling at the corners of his eyes, Legolas reached behind him and took out one of his long, slender blades that he still carried even in times of peace. Walking up to the closest tree, he swung his arm back and let fly, sending the blade into the thick, grey truck with all the strength he could muster. Pain jarred up his arm at the impact just as small hunks of wood were spat at him -- perhaps the tree's thoughts on the sudden assault -- but he kept going, kept letting blow after blow assail the trunk as if it were a long-fought demon of the mind.
He had to cut it down, had to be able to shape it into the thing that he needed so desperately; the only thing that could make him forget.
Again he could see Aragorn; see him sitting upon a nearby rock, smoking his pipe... a loving smile on his face as he observed his Elven lover and his actions.
It was torture! Torture of mind, body and soul and one that Legolas was altogether too weak to endure. He could fight a hundred Orcs, defend a fort from an army and be one with those who overpowered a Dark Lord. But this... this was the one thing that could overpower him, the one thing that could bring him shattering down. Everything was a reminder: everywhere was a place that they had been, a place that either one of them held dear.
All that had once resided within the world for him was gone, scattered into the wind and never to return. His lover was dead, taken from him by the icy, quivering fingers of old age. The Elves were leaving; no real leader was still among them to try and keep them upon these shores, and all others that he had grown to love had rotted with their mortality. Shortly, he truly would be alone, be the only one of the old days left walking the land... and that was a fate that his heart could not suffer.
Sinking to his knees in defeat, the tree's bark too strong for his thin blade, he let the bow-knife slip gracefully from his hand where it lay upon the grass; the gold accented by the shimmering green. Angrily wiping the tears from his eyes, the Elf looked around himself, taking in the destruction that he had caused. Dark brown sap dripped from the tree, its colour and appearance reminding Legolas of spilt blood, the scattered pieces of bark that lay around him akin to torn flesh; both signs of life and death.
Breathing in deeply the feeling of the salty sea air filling his lungs and slow his quickened heart, Legolas rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve, glad to be rid of the gathering tears and stopping them before they fell.
Aragorn was dead; there was nothing that he could do about it. For years they had both known that it would happen, known that it was inevitable, but it did not seem to soften the stab of pain within Legolas' heart.
When he had seen his lover die, seen the life pass out of him and the colour drain from his face, Legolas' first instinct was to follow him, to run to his arms like he had so many times before. All the time that they had spent together seemed to only be a compressed, concise moment, all the time apart an eternity. Thoughts had flashed through his mind, telling him of all that they should have done; could have done if they only had more time or had acknowledged the prospect of death a few years sooner. It had been the greatest loss of his immortal life and the most grief that his heart had ever had to suffer and it seemed that his world narrowed into the want and will to follow his lover even into death.
Yet, as time pasted, Legolas knew that he could not. For the sake of everything -- for Frodo, Sam and the hobbits, for Gimli and the ones that had passed like Boromir and Aragorn -- he had to go on. He needed to keep their memories alive just as he needed to pass through the ruins of his life; whether he had to crawl through the crumbling stone and smashed glass, he knew that he had to make it to the other side of this pain, of this loss... It was the only way for him to heal.
But he could not do that here, not where everything whispered Aragorn's name or where every shadow seemed to bear a resemblance to his lost lover.
He would set sail, build his ship of grey wood and pass from the world like those before him. Never would he forget what he and Aragorn had, never will he forget the touches, the words of love, and the looks that said more then words ever could. He would keep them alive in his heart...forever and till the end of time, like once promised. He would remember him, and all the brave people: Men, Elves, Hobbits and Dwarves alike.
"When the cold comes upon me in the dark, I will remember you...remember your kindness and warmth...until the end of time, my love..."
And with that he was gone, walking into the trees that he would soon create into his boat.
*****
The End.
...greatly inspired by a song from my childhood and written whilst being drunk!