Title: What difference does it make?

Author: Hobbitfreak

Pairing: Legolas/?
Rating: PG13

Warnings: Killing, blood, angst, suicidal thoughts.

A/N: I was singing, and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, this fooken bunny jumps at me and bites my arse with it's nine inch fangs! I could hardly sit down to write this, but it still wouldn't let go.

Disclaimer: Nooo, I don't own any of these characters.

What difference does it make if I still want you

When I know for sure that I can't make you mine?

--Poets

I look at you, and I know you don't lie. You really mean you don't want me anymore. Yes, it's fine. No, I'll get over it, just give me a minute and I'll be right back on my feet. Of course I realise it has nothing to do with me. That's what I tell you, and what I tell myself. If I keep telling myself that I really don't care, maybe the pain will go away.

It will soon enough even if I grieve, I do realise that. But if I grieve, the pain will show in my face, and then you will know how much you hurt me.

You have killed me, in the most subtle way there could ever be. I know that I cannot stand seeing your smiling face flashed across my eyes whenever I try to go to sleep, and if I open them, you're still there. I won't be able to bear the small touches you incidentally give me, when reaching for food or walking past me. I won't be able to take those small things, they will drive me insane sooner or later, and when they do, I'll rather fall upon my sword. And I know, that someday soon, you will touch me once too many, and then everyone will wonder what happened. They will all be 'but he seemed to take it so good,' and 'he was happy again, he told me so yesterday'.

But I'm not happy, even if I tell the others I am. I am the unhappiest being ever to walk the surface of Middle Earth. I try to take out the hurting and pain on the orcs. Poor orcs, they don't know what just happened to them when they lie there, feeling their life leaving their foul bodies.

I often watch them lying there, I watch as their dark blood leave their bodies, and it makes me cold inside. I don't care about the fact that I'm killing, I've done that for so long I hardly notice that I shoot at actual living beings. No, it's knowing that the same thing will happen to me. They get killed by a fair elf, so will I. the only difference is that I will choose it, they don't, and my blood will be a clear red, not black red as theirs.

I wonder if you will miss me when I'm gone. I hope you will. I hope you will cry your eyes out over me, grieve until there is no more grief left in this world. It's not that I want you to be unhappy, not at all. I just want to know that I'm being missed by someone.

Thinking about it doesn't help, not now when I've decided to move on at once. Still, I can't help myself. I keep thinking that if I do this, or if I say that, you will love me again. But what I feel and think does not matter anymore. It's all about you, because you decided to break it off. There is no use in plotting and begging anymore, because it will make no difference. My time is near now.

I look up again, and there you are. I take in all your beauty, get lost in those eyes once again, and - oh, you're saying something. You want me to forgive you, you say that you were foolish because you could not see that we were meant to be.

Of course I'll forgive you, love. We are one, if you die, so will I. none of us could ever live without the other. I am yours, you are mine, and we will be together forever.

You will never leave me again, my sweetest, dearest Gimli.