And In the Darkness Bind Them

Arc One: Lord of the Rings

Chapter Three

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as bright light filtered into the slit between his lids. He closed them quickly, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light around him, before opening them cautiously again. Where was he?

Ignoring the growing pain in his torso—he wasn't sure if it was his stomach, or his chest, or a mixture of both—Viper sat up, noticing he was in a bed. The utter whiteness of the room immediately clued him in on where he was. No matter what world was born, how it grew up, the infirmaries and other medical locations were always white. Blindingly so. Viper bit back a groan. Why him?

The hooded immortal—he thanked his lucky stars that his hood was still up. He hoped no one had removed it while he was unconscious—kicked off the colorless sheets and swung his legs over the side of the bed, pausing as a wave of dizziness hit him head-on. He sucked in a breath and clenched his teeth, doubling over and bracing his head in his hands, trying not to fall over. Okay, this isn't working.

With a quick and decisive wave of his hand, the pressure in his head vanished. His torso—it was more the stomach, but the chest hurt a bit too—still ached, but he could ignore it. He'd tried starvation before, and just like everything else it didn't work. That doesn't mean he didn't feel the hunger pains—Oh.

He hadn't eaten since he'd gotten to Rivendel, which would have been about a month or so ago. That's why. He should probably eat soon.

Viper stood up, taking a look around. He was dressed in his usual clothes still, but they were crinkled with sweat form his fever from before. As he freshened them with a quick thought, he wondered why no one had dressed him in the clothes of a patient. Maybe they respected his privacy too much—which was odd, he thought. Healers didn't respect such things, usually. At least, from his experience. This Lord Elrond was weird one.

With one hand pressed against his stomach, he took a few deep breaths before pushing the pain to the back of his mind and vanishing from the room via window. After all, why use doors, which were most likely being guarded and kept under watch, when there was a perfectly good window right there? Viper shook his head as he slipped the glass pane back in place silently. People these days. Honestly.

Now he was making his way down a less-used stone pathway into the gardens. A fresh, cool breeze swept through the outdoors, and to Viper it was heavenly. His skin still felt hot to the touch, and his eyes like molten rock, as if they were trying to burn their way to the back of his skull, slowly. His throat was still sore, but not as dry as before. He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky, before the sound of warring voices caught his attention.

"—not advertise my difference from the rest of the Fellowship? Indeed, you are lucky there are not more Elves here, now, for with one less tolerant than I you would have been shot dead already!" One voice pointed out to the other. Viper swept aside a low wispy branch of a willow tree and leaned against it's trunk, watching in amusement the argument between the elf—Legolas—and Gimli the dwarf as it continued.

"It doesn't change a thing, Elf." Gimli snapped out. "It doesn't change a thing. I am my own Dwarf. I may be proud, but I can admit to it, unlike the perfect, oh-so-blemish-free Elves."

"I've slain more orcs than you could dream; I have been defending Mirkwood longer than your entire family's pathetic life span! You want to insult an Elf? Try me. You think you're a better fighter? Let's see how you feel when you've got one of my arrows sticking out of your back! I might laugh, I might smile, I might be young for my race, but believe me, Dwarf... I'm no 'pompous princeling'." Legolas retorted angrily, and Viper slapped a hand over his mouth to cover his snickers.

The two arguing males spun around. Legolas had an arrow notched in his bow, ready for fire, and Gimli already had a hand clutching the handle of his cousin's ax. They both paused, and watched with wide eyes as Viper laughed at them. "For two at one another's throats," Viper pointed out as his mirth died down—encouraged by the searing pain in his throat. Thankfully it didn't change the sound of his voice, yet, or Gimli might just force some cough syrup down his throat. Legolas would help, no doubt. They really weren't all that different from each other. "You make a phenomenal team. Look at you! My, you are quite jumpy after a row."

"Mister Viper!" Legolas cried, racing over to him. He flitted around the hooded man, who was becoming quite bemused. "What are you doing out of the Hall of Healing?"

Gimli huffed as he jogged over to the willow tree, his face scrunched up as he glowered up at the immortal. "Did Elrond let you leave, did he? You do not look very "healed" to me. By the Valar, when I next see that elf lord, he's going to get a talking to—"

Viper watched him rant for a bit, before frowning over at Legolas. "Elrond didn't let me out, I hate infirmaries. I jumped out of the window."

Gimli immediately backtracked, as Legolas appeared much too appalled to answer. "The window! Are ye mad, lad?! What evil possessed you to-to—why did you not just used the door?" The dwarf finished lamely, after spluttering for a moment.

Viper raised a chiseled brow, puzzled at the look of dismay on Gimli's face, and Legolas seemed positively aghast. He shrugged. "Doors are... Well, I just happen to like windows more, I suppose." He replied.

"No!" Legolas yelped, and Viper jerked away from the distraught looking elf. The blond rushed up to him, grasping his forearm. "You have to go back to the Hall of Healing, you're still ill—Mister Viper!"

Viper was confused. He tilted his head. "What's wrong with you two?" He demanded? "I'm fine."

"Uh, no." Gimli tutted. His red hair, heavyset form, and the attitude he displayed now eerily reminded an uneasy Viper of his old friends mother. Now that woman was an absolute demon. Viper turned a grateful face toward the heavens that Gimli only sported not even half of her mother-henning. And, really! He'd expect this from Legolas, maybe, but Gimli? … He could almost see it. Viper shuddered.

Wrong move. Legolas leaned in closer, a look of concern on his face. "Look, you're shivering." The elf pointed out, and Viper immediately ceased his trembling. He decided against explaining his thoughts. Gimli just might behead him for such an insult. Viper shook his head. "No. I'm not cold. See?" He held out his arm.

"You should go back to that infirmary, lad." Gimli huffed, scowling.

"Hall of Healing," Legolas corrected decisively, eying the dwarf with a look not too far from contempt.

"Honestly, you are both beginning to crowd me. Please move away." Viper shrank back. Legolas almost leaped away from him, and the hooded man smiled warily as Gimli took a few steps back. "Um, yes. That's... that." He spun on his heel and quickly disappeared back onto the hidden pathway, not catching the worried looks that Gimli and Legolas exchanged, for once forgetting their argument.

Viper raced down the edge of the garden, keen green eyes on the look out for a familiar face. Perhaps Aragorn would know why those two had acted so strangely... Perhaps it wasn't he who was ill, but everyone else? Viper shook his head, before scaling up the trunk of a nearby tree with practices ease, his vision finally catching the elusive Ranger's figure. Aragorn was in a clearing, near the river. He swung his sword in practiced swipes, and moved his legs in memorized positions. He was training. Viper pressed a hand to his stomach, which demanded food. He silenced it with a word of magic from his lips, and the pain edged away for a while. "Not yet." he mumbled, leaning forward and dropping from the branched of the tree.

Viper was amused when Aragorn jumped out of his own skin at his call. "'Allo, Strider."

The Ranger spun around, eyes widening when his gaze landed on Viper. "You!" He cried, rushing over, much like Legolas and Gimli had before. "What are you doing here?" He hissed. "You're suppose to be resting, Viper!"

Viper crossed his arms and scowled. "Why? I'm not tired!" He knew he sounded childish—and really, he was practically lying. They could both see how Viper swayed slightly where he stood.

Aragorn looked angry. "No—Viper! No." he waved his arm. They both stopped to stare at his weapon when it almost took a tear out of Viper's arm. Aragorn slowly set it on the ground, before jumping up and pinning Viper with an accusing stare. "Why did you leave the Hall of Healing?" The physically older man demanded.

Viper tilted his head to the side, staying silent. His inhumane hearing was catching small snippets of voices calling out, and shouting for him. His name, being cried all across Rivendel. He frowned. People were looking for him?

"I can't stand sitting in one place for long." Viper eventually explained, seeing how Aragorn was beginning to become impatient. He could hear the calls now, as well. He glared at him. "That's no excuse! Viper—you're not well. Ada—Lord Elrond said you'd had a fever, and—" He stopped, casting a short look at the other man. Viper was about to ask him what he wanted, when Aragorn gently slapped a hand over Viper's forehead. He pulled it back with a sharp breath. "Viper... Your fever, is worse. Go back to the hall of Healing, you can't be out right now!"

"I hate infirmaries." Viper snapped, leaning away from the man and slapping his arm away. "I hate them. I'm not going back, I'm not." He paused, sucking in a deep breath of air. The oxygen seemingly went straight to his head, and he swayed as another dizzying spell hit him. Aragorn caught him before he could fall back too far. The Ranger shot him an intense look. "You are not fine." He stated. "I will take you back myself! Viper, people are searching for you! You can't just—"

"Why?" Viper interrupted, his voice soft. Aragorn paused, listening. "Why are they looking for me? I do not understand this at all." He allowed his legs to give out, and and practically feel to the ground, holding his aching head in his gloved hands. Aragorn slowly knelt next to him, examining him with a careful eye. "What do you mean?" The Ranger questioned.

"Everyone's so concerned for me," Viper tilted his head back and glared up at the clouds that rolled lazily by them. "They are smothering me. I do not like being—I am not... I'm not used to being... I don't—"

Aragorn's glare softened, but he kept his stare. He let out a sigh and put a hand on Viper shoulder. The immortal didn't even notice. "You are... growing on us," He half-joked with a tired smile, before it slipped from his face and he frowned in worry. "Viper, you're becoming something of a friend for all of us here. The others—and myself—enjoy your company. You are fun to be around, and you lighten everyone's moods in these dark times. I myself am beginning to see you as a friend, despite the fact that I practically know nothing about you other than your name and some of your personality. It's confusing for me as well, please understand that, if anything..."

But Viper had tensed halfway through his words. "Friends?" He asked, a cautious tone to his voice that made Aragorn stop and hold his breath. "I'm not—I don't... N-no. I can't... Not again." Viper clutched his head. "No..."

Aragorn looked alarmed. "Viper," he started, feeling the younger man's forehead again. He bit his lip. "You... I think you should go back to the Hall of—"

"No." Viper dismissed his words immediately. "Stop. You are frightening me, Strider." He jumped up, ignoring Aragorn's wide eyed look and dashed off, out of the garden.

"I... Frightened? Viper, wait!" Aragorn called after him, but the hooded young man was already gone.

From behind a nearby oak, Boromir watched the mysterious Viper disappear into the forest surrounding Rivendel. He frowned, making his way back to the dining Hall. It looks like he'd have to do something about this.

oOoOo

Everyone had stopped searching for Viper around an hour before. Boromir had gone to Gandalf to ask the wizard what he should do. The others had been there as well, but Gandalf only shook his head. "If he doesn't wish to be found," the wizened man told them, "then you will not find him, my friends."

But Boromir wasn't going to sit around and wait. He already had a good idea of where he would search for Viper, and he stalked out into the forest after shouldering his pack.

He wandered around the brush undergrowth and the tall, shadowing trees until he reached a clearing a good ways into the dense thicket of oaks, near enough to the river that you could hear the faint sound of rushing water. Towards the middle of the clearing, which was a good sized meadow bathed in sunlight, the black stallion that Boromir recognized as Tharbadir—the horse that always followed the hooded enigma he was searching for around—lied, his mane rustling in the soft breeze and the animals head snapped up, beady black eyes zeroing in on the man. Boromir had stepped on a twig.

The son of Denethor held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, and the stallion tossed his head, neighing softly. Boromir was surprised, he'd never heard a horse that quiet before—and from the description the elven stable hands had given him before, at dinner one night, Tharbadir was anything but a quiet horse. Then he caught sight of the black-clad form that lay curled up at the stallion's side, and he let out a breath. Of course. He wasn't sure, but it sounded like Tharbadir might be quiet for a sleeping Viper.

Silently, he slowly approached the two, hands held up still and making sure to stay in Tharbadir's sight. From what he'd gathered, the stallion, was mighty protective of Viper, for reasons unknown to the many inhabitants of Rivendel. It was just something that is. He set his pack on the ground with a near-silent thud, and locked eyes with the guard.

Tharbadir blinked once, before tossing his head, mane snapping in the wind. Boromir took on step back, then to the side until he was standing over the sleeping Viper, gazing down at him. Viper's breaths were shallow and it looked as if the younger man was having trouble breathing. He saw a bead of perspiration trail down the side of the man's face and disappear into Viper's collar. Boromir cast one more look at the still silent Tharbadir before plopping down near Viper's shoulder, and placing a hand on the dozing man's forearm, shaking him slightly.

Viper took in a sharp breath, his face scrunching up as if he was in pain, and he let out a hurt sound, somewhere between a whimper and a groan. Boromir froze, blinking. Then he frowned in worry. Viper really should be back in the infirmary. Feeling only slightly bad, he shook Viper once again, a bit rougher. Viper let out a cough, tilting his head back. Boromir caught a flash of glittering green from the corner of his eyes as he helped the man sit up. Viper let out a breath and eventually slumped against Tharbadir's side in defeat. He looked up at the silent man. "Boromir." he greeted, and they both winced slightly. Viper's smooth vice was breathy and had a slight raw-tone to it. "What do you want? Are you going to ask why I left the Hall of Healing, like the others?" The younger man buried his face into Tharbadir's clean, silky coat, laughing bitterly. Boromir frowned, placing a hand on Viper's shoulder.

"No." He sighed. "I wanted to ask why you're running away."

Viper jerked his head up to meet Boromir's eyes. Boromir wasn't able to catch any flash of green this time, to his disappointment, but he somehow met the unseen stare. "... I am not running away." Viper retorted, finally, looking away from his gaze. Boromir let out a breath and shook his head. "Aye, you are. I overheard you telling Aragorn that he was frightening you—" here, the man clenched his fists as if the very thought made him want to pummel the Ranger into the ground, but he kept his voice steady as he continued, "and it struck me as odd. Not that it's something you should be ashamed of, or anything," he added quickly at the sidelong glance Viper threw at him, "but I just wanted to know why, how he was frightening you. What... what are you afraid of?" There, that was what he wanted to say.

Viper stayed silent for a moment, and Boromir sat and watched him. The younger man's breaths were ragged, and it looked as if it was growing harder for him to breath. The musty air in the meadow they were in must not be helping at all, Boromir mused. Viper was shivering, in a cod sweat, and Boromir scooted closer, instead placing his hand on Viper's head as if he was a small child—and sometimes, that was what they compared him to. Viper, childish, the mind-set of a kid, they were all growing to enjoy his company—you couldn't help but not.

"This," Viper eventually sighed, and Boromir focused on listening intently. "I... Every friend I've made, I've had to watch them die," the hooded mystery admitted, and the Son of Denethor sucked in a breath, eyes wide in horror. He wanted to say something, but Viper went on, still talking, faster.

"I-it hurts. I'm afraid to get close to anyone. I know they'll die sometime, before me—it's like a curse, or something." Viper laughed bitterly, his breath tight and it sounded painful. Boromir winced in sympathy. "It's depressing. There... There was a time when I didn't even think I could use my own two legs to walk. I didn't have the heart to even move. That's part of the problem here, I guess." Viper continued, seemingly choosing his words carefully. "It is..." he paused, hesitant, before going on. "Ever since then, when I... cured myself of that—not being able to even move due to my own depression—I can't sit still. I'm afraid to sit still, like everyone is ordering me to now. I am frightened, because... I don't want to return to that state." He turning toward Boromir. "It m-must be silly to you, I suppose, but—"

"No," Boromir cut in, voice soft. "It isn't. I can't say that I understand what you are going through, Viper, but..." He bit his lip, placing a hand on the exhausted man's shoulder, while his other stayed on his head. He was practically embracing the younger now. He just noticed only now how small Viper's lithe body was compared to his own. "You can call me a friend. Please? I won't say that you can't expect to watch me fall, like you have your other companions—but I will be here for you. Please accept that, in the least."

Viper stays silent, leaning into his hold. Boromir sighs, reaching out a free hand to tug his pack nearer. He lied Viper against Tharbadir, who still kept a silent watch, breathing steadily. Opening his pack, Boromir brought out several wraps of food. Bread, cheese, vegetables—some things he'd liberated from the kitchens to the left of the dining hall. He tapped Viper on the shoulder, ignoring the groan. "Here. I've brought you some food. I won't let you sleep again until you eat half of it—and I'll eat the other half. Agreed?"

Viper held his breath, staring up at him, before giving a curt nod. He let out a huff and grabbed a roll and some cheese as Boromir pulled out two water skins. One held water, the other held wine. He held the one with water up to Viper's chapped lips and helped him drink it. Once it was empty, Boromir watched attentively as Viper ate all the food he'd brought, however slowly, as he himself ate the rest. Once Viper was finished, he began to cough, throat dry.

"Here, this is wine." Boromir held up the other water skin. Viper drank it slowly, pausing a few times to take in shallow breathes. He coughed afterward, before groaning again and curling into a ball, hiding his face in Tharbadir's coat. Boromir began to pack away the empty water skins and leftover clothes that the food had been wrapped in, before closing the pack. He leaned over and lifted a now unconscious Viper into his arms and surveyed the lazing Tharbadir. The stallion cast him a look, before seeming to get the message, and stood. Boromir carefully lied Viper on the horse's back, thankful that the stallion kept so still, before climbing on behind him. Once he was sure they were both secure, Tharbadir took off towards the gardens of Rivendel.

As soon as they entered the one nearest to the forest, Aragorn raced up. He'd been sitting on the edge of a marble fountain that had scenes carved into the sides, from battles and ceremonies sacred to the elves. The Ranger practically fluttered around them like a mother hen, attempting to get a look at Viper. Boromir slid off of Tharbadir's back and, with a curt nod at the stallion, lifted the unconscious Viper into his arms. He slowly turned and shot Aragorn a look. "Listen, Ranger." he said shortly. "His fever is much worse than before. I got him to eat some food, and drink some water and wine, but now he is asleep again. Is the Lord Elrond in the infirmary?"

Aragorn looked annoyed with his tone of voice, but ignored it in favor of checking Viper over. "Yes," he snapped quietly. "He is in the Hall of Healing. They're waiting for you to bring Viper there."

Boromir nodded sharply, striding out of the garden toward the halls of Rivendel. He made his way through the halls and entered the medical wing. Elrond, a group of elven healers, Gandalf, and the hobbits all looked up as he entered.

"Viper!" Pippin cried, and the Halfling jumped up. Elrond and Gandalf right behind them, they raced over and accompanied him as he set Viper down in a nearby bed. "His fever's worse." Boromir reported, sitting in the chair next to the bed. "We talked. I made him eat some food, and he drank a water skin of wine, and one of water. That's all I could do before he fell asleep again."

Elrond nodded in acknowledgement, examining Viper's prone form closely. Boromir shifted in his seat as the healers rushed about, fetching a basin of cool water and cloth. Someone tugged on the hem of his shirt and he looked down to see a nervous hobbit gazing up at him. "Is Mister Viper okay, Mister Boromir?" Sam asked tentatively, glancing over at Viper. The other hobbits fidgeted behind him Boromir stared down at them, before nodding slowly. He began to lead them out of the room to give the healers space.

"He'll be alright, I'm sure." The son of Denethor replied quickly. "After all, these elves are the finest healers in Middle Earth. There's no need to worry about our friend."

Except, everyone is, anyway. Including myself. Boromir thought mirthlessly, as he herded the squirming hobbits from the Hall of Healing.

oOoOo

His eyelids were incredibly heavy, this time around. He mused that, perhaps, they had him under drugs so he wouldn't escape—after his last trick, he suspected they were worried he would attempt to leave again. As his head cleared, Viper was relieved to find that he was feeling much better than before. His mind wasn't swimming in molasses, and he could actually breath now. His stomach still ached, but his chest no longer burned with the need for air.

Viper waited a second or so, getting his bearings, before he shot up and looked around the room. Elrond, Gandalf, the elf named Glorfindel, Boromir, and Aragorn stood around his resting place. Aragorn had his arms crossed, a strange look on his face, and Elrond looked down at him sternly, his sculpted eyebrows making the look all the more intense. Viper resisted the need to sit up straight and clasp his hands, before bowing and reciting that "Ohaiyo, sensei," he remembered doing a few millennium ago, in a world stuck in a sort of feudal era.

Gandalf's eyes were twinkling so brightly, Viper wanted to gauge them out and stick them on to ceiling of the dining Hall, they reminded him of the stars that twinkled above when he'd eaten dinner as a child. It was irritating. Stop... twinkling, dammit!

Glorfindel had his arms crossed in a similar fashion to Aragorn, but his face held a smug look, as if you say "I'm free and you're not." Viper wished he'd eaten before—because then he'd be able to walk up to that smug, taller-than-him blond and give it to him. He deserves a defeat, Viper thought, the prat.

"Mister Viper," Elrond finally spoke, when Viper had calmed down slightly. "I am here to inform you that you will not be leaving this hall until you are completely healthy once more."

Viper straightened indignantly, a look of horror on his face. Aragorn appeared to be trying to hold back a small smile of amusement—that bastard! Traitor!—but Boromir cast him a immensely pitying look. Viper threw his arms around himself and pouted dramatically, like a child. Hide it, hide it, hide it. His mind shouted, his instincts howled. They can't know you're absolutely terrified at the prospect of staying cooped up in here! He only hoped Boromir wouldn't tell. Now he wished he hadn't spoken to Boromir, never had that little heart-to-heart. He hadn't confided, truly, in anyone for... a long time.

He shot a small glare at the sympathetic look on Boromir's face, and the man of Gondor shook his head slightly. Viper relaxed, if only a bit. Good, then. He hadn't told anyone. Yet.

"You're joking," Viper apparently decided, eventually, and Elrond shared a look of amusement with Gandalf and Glorfindel. Before anyone could say anything, Viper let out a scoff and pointed an accusing finger in the golden-haired elf's direction. "You. I don't like you." Glorfindel and the others looked surprised at his admission, but Viper wasn't done. "Therefore, I'll come up with an irritating nickname to call you insistently, and annoy you into oblivion. I think... Glorfy will do, yeah?" He tilted his head, then grinned triumphantly at the resigned look of drawn out dismay on the elf's face. Elrond, Gandalf and Boromir shared chuckles, while Aragorn raised an eyebrow—but Viper's eyes only zeroed in on the faint blush in the man's cheeks. His eyes widened and he let out a gasp, before pointing his finger again, at the Ranger this time. "No. Don't tell me... No!" He grinned brightly, cackling. "When you were a child, you grew up here, did you not? And you called the pompous prat over there that name, didn't you?" He lied back in the bed, pressing his hands to his chest as he laughed. Glorfindel looked affronted at the insult, while Aragorn just looked embarrassed. Boromir covered a laugh with a cough, and Elrond looked indulgently amused. Gandalf leaned forward onto his ever-present staff, eying the laughing Viper.

"Nice try," is all the wizard said, before Viper stopped laughing and stared at the ancient looking male. He blinked, before huffing. "Hey! I almost got you all distracted. That wasn't fair, old man!" The others stopped to star at the two.

The Istar shook his head. "You are a master at diverting the attention of others, Viper, but you cannot distract me. You seem uneasy at the long wait to leave at your recovery. Would you mind elaborating?"

Viper hunched over, glaring at his hands. "I... do not like being forced to sit still. I hate being in one place for that long, so long..." He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "A compromise, then. I stay until the fever's gone and my throat is healed, that is it. Any attempt to keep me here afterwards will be avoided, and you will not see me again until the fellowship leaves."

Aragorn and Boromir looked alarmed, and Gandalf shared a startled look with Glorfindel and Elrond. The elf-lord stepped forward after a moments thought. "Very well," He said, rather reluctantly. "However, you must attend all meals in the hall when you are released from here, do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Viper gave the elf a salute, before falling back in the bad, tilting his head to glance at the ceiling.

"Why didn't you eat before, Viper?" Aragorn finally poke up softly, and everyone looked at the hooded man with curiosity.

"Oh... that?" Viper shrugged. "I forget things like that all the time, really. It's nothing uncommon."

Glorfindel made a noise of disbelief. "You are saying that it is not unusual for you to forget to eat, for as long as you have now?" The blond elf shook his head. "I cannot see this."

"Well, it is the truth, Glorf." At their looks, Viper shrugged once again. "I decided to change it, since Glorfy appears to already have been taken, by a young Strider." Aragorn blushed again, staring at the floor with his hands clenched into fists.

"How have you survived as long as this, I wonder?" Elrond asked in no small amount of horror. Viper only shook his head. "Honestly? I do not wonder at all." He took in a breath and gazed up at the ceiling. The others wanted to asked more, but at the slightly sorrowful air surrounding the hooded enigma, they kept silent

"Why do these kinds of places always have to be blindingly white? Why not a nice, comforting color, like... I don't know, green?"

They just looked at him, amused. Viper huffed in annoyance.

oOoOo

The moments the doors opened, the shouts and yells began. The hobbits waved him over to their table excitedly but the dwarves were roaring and pounding their fists on the table as they gestured him toward an open seat at their table. The elves—sans Legolas, the twins, Glorfindel and Elrond—and the Men who were visiting started at the sudden and unexpected noise and spun around wildly until they saw him standing there in the entrance. They graced him with confused looks, the Mirkwood elves appearing especially bewildered—but Legolas just offered him a smile and went back to his meal, snapping his fingers to bring his father's attention back to their conversation.

Viper wondered what was so special about himself—other than the very obvious characteristics that set him apart from them all, but he was absolutely certain that they didn't know any of that—and cast them all a smile. This needed to be solved. Elrond looked like he was getting a headache. He cast his emerald gaze around the hall, searching, until—right there! That elf, what was his name? Hadn't he met him before?

Oh, that's... "'Allo, Erestor!" Viper called cheerfully as he very pointedly sat down next to the young elf, who sat the Elrond's left. The dwarves let out disappointed boos and the hobbits all wilted. He sent the lot a cheeky grin before turning back to Erestor, who smiled shyly in return. "How has your day been?"

"It has been lovely, Mister Viper," Erestor replied, handing him the platter of pork. He accepted it gratefully and forked some onto his plate, mindful of the close eyes that Elrond, Boromir, Aragorn and Gandalf were keeping on him. He decided to add a bit more just to appease them. "I heard that you only just got released from the Hall of Healing, correct?"

"Mmm, yeah." Viper nodded, swallowing his potatoes. "I hated it in there. I honestly believed I was going insane. All that white—why can't you elves paint the walls with some color?"

"Are you still going on about that?" Glorfindel asked from Viper's left, reaching over him to grab a spare roll.

"Yes, Glorf." Viper rolled his eyes, the motion ever-unseen to the others around him—but they could tell he was doing just that, anyway. "I am, and it is very important! I don't know how you've remained sane with just... all of that... white-ness..." He shuddered, and Erestor chuckled as he spooned some corn onto his own plate.

"Glorf?" The dark-haired elf asked, trying to hold in a laugh. Glorfindel glowered at the hooded man as he laughed outright. "Oh, yes! I am not very fond of our blond fellow here. I decided to give him an embarrassing nickname. Sadly," he smirked. "'Glorfy' was already taken..." He grinned over at Aragorn, who sat to Glorfindel's left. The Ranger blushed red.

"Are you just going to tell that to everyone now?" The man asked, spluttering. He'd been taking a sip of his wine when he'd overheard Viper's words. The aforementioned enigma only shrugged, grinning.

"Ah, yes," Erestor smiled. "I remember that. You adored Glorfindel when you were a child. He was your hero, wasn't he, Estel?"

Aragorn mumbled something into his goblet, face beet red as Viper cackled onward. "Sorry? I didn't quite catch that..." Viper leaned forward.

Aragorn stared at him, before shaking his head and pushing Viper's head down toward his plate. "I... just... eat already!"

Viper laughed at him, lifting a forkful of pork into his mouth with a eerie grin. "Yessir."

The rest of the meal was spent like that; bantering back and forth between the three as Erestor and sometimes Elrond watched on in amusement. They all forced Viper to eat until his stomach began to hurt again. Eventually the hooded man groaned. "Enough!" he cried dramatically. "I'll explode."

This was said with such a serious tone that they couldn't help but laugh. Viper sent them a pout before escaping to the gardens to feed Tharbadir an apple.

"He's like a child," Glorfindel stated, shaking his head.

"He really is," Aragorn agreed.

oOoOo

It was at times like this that Viper wished he didn't have anything to hide. There were these few people in each world that could just look at him, and make him want to spill every secret to his very existence. Unfortunately for him, Gandalf the Gray was one of them few people.

"Simply a mystery," Gandalf mused, his eyes twinkling again, and Viper felt a pain dulled with many millennium of time and mourning spike in his chest. He didn't think the old man—not as old as him, he knew—knew how much he reminded him of his mentor, how much it hurt to look at the Istar. He was certain that, if Gandalf had known, he would try his best to sooth Viper's pain. The wizard just seemed like that kind of person, to him.

"A mystery?" Viper instead asked with a grin. He was a professional at masking any and all of his thoughts, emotions, feelings. "I do love a good mystery, old man. Those I can solve splendidly." And he could, it wasn't anything to boast about. He'd been a well-renowned master detective in one of the past worlds. One time, in a Time Twist(that's what he called those worlds that completely repeated a past world. There could be one world, say, and then it and it's entire history would be repeated a few worlds later—he really loved playing around in a repeated world, seeing what he could change and mess up, since he already knew what would happen beforehand. One time, he'd posed as a seer, and no one could prove him false, that had certainly been entertaining) he'd been a very close friend of one Sherlock Holmes. Those times were fairly enjoyable for him.

"I'm not sure," Gandalf went on. "Actually, you may already know everything to do with it."

"Oh?" Viper inquired, raising an eyebrow, despite the fact that he knew—oh, he knew—what this so-called mystery(and it really was such a thing, truly) was, already.

"Why, it's you, my boy!" My boy. Viper tried his best not to flinch. Why wasn't he over this? It had been millennium since! "You, you're an intricate puzzle—everyone here, I can tell you—is interested in solving you."

"Ah." Viper mused softly. "But, dear Istar, you all fail to see the reality. I believe I am a few pieces short of a puzzle. Many of them are, hm, missing, you could say."

Gandalf looked as if he wanted to say more, but the short blur that raced into the garden and over to them interrupted him. "Gandalf!" Frodo cried, his face pale. Viper unconsciously straightened—the hobbit looked utterly terrified— "Oh, you should have seen, he-he was... it was dreadful, absolutely horrible—!" The young Baggins' breath came in short gasps, and he paused a moment to take a large gulp of air. Viper stepped over quickly.

"Halfling?" he questioned, voice wary. "What is it? Something wrong, is there?"

Frodo shook his head, so fast Viper thought it might topple off an onto the ground. "Bilbo, he—I mean, I wasn't... I tried—didn't know that—"

"Hush, my dear lad." Gandalf soothed the hobbit calmly, worry present on his weathered face. "Please, tell us what troubles you so?" He looked pained.

"It was frightening," Frodo whispered once he'd caught his breath. "Bilbo—he... giving me some things to help me on the journey. The mithril shirt!—He, I mean, I unbuttoned my shirt to try it on like he asked—Gandalf! He saw the Ring, and... and he looked—Oh." The hobbit sobbed. "Gandalf. A monster. A monster!"

As Gandalf spoke with the hobbit, Viper was having a mental war with himself. He felt really worried for Frodo—concerned! That didn't make any sense. He felt bad, wanted to make Frodo feel better, wanted to fix things. This shouldn't be happening! Where did these thoughts come from? He's not my friend, none of them are my friends! Stop it, stop it, stop it—

He decided that the only way to stop these new feelings was to fix the problem at hand. Maybe if Frodo looked more comfortable, he wouldn't think like this.

"He—it is as if he's called to it..." Frodo was whispering hoarsely, and Viper saw a look of worry overcome Gandalf's features. "Oh dear..." The old wizard muttered.

Viper tilted his head. "Hm? Called to what?" He asked lightly. Frodo spun to look at him, brightening up just that much. "Viper!" Then the hobbit drooped again. "It's Bilbo. He... he saw the Ring, and he was.. so scary." Frodo shivered, glancing up at him pleadingly. "The Ring, it's like it is calling to him. He tried to hurt me, he wanted it!" Tears were gathering in the Halfling's eyes. Viper knelt down to his height and shook his head. "Well, that won't do, will it? It looks to me like Bilbo's mental shields are little to none!"

Frodo looked up again, confused, and Gandalf regarded him curiously, if not cautiously. "Mental shields?" The hobbit asked. "What are mental shields?"

"They are... Hm..." Viper paused in thought. How would he describe Occlumensy to these people, especially since it hasn't existed in such a defined form in this world? "Something I made up." He decided on lying, slightly. "You see, my mind's a really dark place. Sometimes so much that it scared me. I don't like it, so I developed a method to protect myself from my own thoughts and nightmares—and to protect my mind form any outside force trying to get in and cause harm or do anything else. Like the Ring. It enters your mind and whispers promises, seduction to you, does it not?" Frodo nodded, eyes wide, and Gandalf sat down, listening intently as he went on. "What I created is the art of defending the mind against external penetration, sealing it against intrusion and influence." Viper shrugged at their looks. "I was tired of my own mind. I know it's sad, but I can think clearly now... I'm mostly sure that I can set up some shields around Bilbo's mind for you. They will only fall once I am too far to hold them up—and I am not leaving until you are, which means, Frodo, that when the shields do fall, the Ring will be far enough away to not even have a chance at grasping Bilbo's mind."

"Do it!" Frodo cried, before pausing and glancing over tat the silent wizard. "Gandalf? Can..."

"I think it is best," the bearded Istar admitted after a few moments staring intently at the oblivious Viper. He seemed mightily interested. Viper jumped back up with a grin. "Great! Very well," he turned to Frodo and swept out a hand. "Lead the way, Halfling."

You would think, such a name said in such a tone would be offensive but—when the word came from Viper's lips, anyone would seem alright with it. Frodo certainly was. He... trusted, this person.

oOoOo

"Your favorite color?"

"Erm—green?"

"Right. The name of the first pet you ever had?"

"Ah," the old hobbit blushed. "Porky."

Viper grinned, as the others looked on confused, having absolutely no clue what was going on. "I assume it was a pig, then?"

"N-no," Bilbo spluttered, embarrassed. "It was a calf."

Viper cackled.

"Ah, Mister Viper?" Legolas interrupted, bewildered. "Why are you asking him these questions?"

"Mmm..." Viper tilted his head, before huffing. He spun around to face Bilbo and gave the hobbit a demonic grin. "No matter. It's my turn." Bilbo gulped, and the others looked alarmed. "Ready?"

"I don't think—"

"When you were seventeen, you almost died from a nasty cold, thanks to your supposed best friend pushing you into the largest river of the Shire. You were rescued by Farmer Maggot and remained bedridden for weeks on end. You and that particular "friend" never made up."

Bilbo gaped openly. "Ah—yes, that's right... H-how—"

Viper held up a finger and continued. "Beginning in the autumn of your twenty-fifth year in this world, and continuing without end until your forty-ninth, the thing you were most and utterly terrified of was the opposite gender, due to the fan-clubs the nearby female hobbits established—'For the protection and safety of Bilbo Baggins we will accomplish all,' was their motto."

Bilbo responded to this with a horrible shudder as Frodo was looking very entertained—"Merry and Pippin'll get a kick out of this," his breathed, and Legolas and Aragorn shared bemused looks with Boromir and Gimli. Erestor looked on, puzzled yet interested. Viper let out a cackle. "Don't worry. I understand. Fan-girls are one of the most horrible terrors known to the universe—very deadly, they are. There's no need to be ashamed." Bilbo only nodded mutely, looking shocked at the hooded enigma's knowledge of his life; event's he'd never shared, with anyone before. "How—"

"Ah-ah!" Viper chastised him, before grinning. "Last one, I'll tell you. You were nine—quite a long time ago, this was." Bilbo suddenly went deathly pale and Viper seemed to pause, glancing around the room at the others, who stood in stunned silence, before leaning closer to Bilbo and speaking in a staged-whisper, "I'll not truly say this one aloud, since I think you'd best like to keep it entirely under wraps, so I'll only say five words—you'll know what I mean."

Bilbo nodded shakily, "O-okay..."

Viper smirked. "Madam Margarete's silk—"

"No!" The aged hobbit lunged forward, slapping a wrinkled hand over the grinning young man's mouth. Viper was cackling. Bilbo panted, face read in utter humiliation. Frodo's eyes gleamed with a strange light, and everyone else just looked flabbergasted.

"Bilbo, my friend, what are you—"

"Don't you dare!" Bilbo yelped, pinning the laughing Viper with a look, before sheepishly turning and facing the bewildered Gandalf. "Ah, Gandalf..." he started out, voice trembling. "Y-You remember the Lady Marge's silk drawers..."

Gandalf's face took on a look on reminiscence, before he broke out into a humorous smile. "Ah, yes," he chuckled. "I had forgotten."

"Liar," Bilbo grumbled. "You do not truly forget anything, you old—"

"Oh!" Frodo brightened, before he burst into laughter. "That! I remember that!" He crumpled in on himself, laughing heartily. The others watched on, Erestor, Elrond and Glorfindel stood at the doorway, brows furrowed.

"Yes, that." Bilbo snapped. "And you swore never to tell a soul." Frodo looked disappointed, before he perked up and graced Bilbo with a mischievous grin. "Ah, but, Bilbo! I hadn't known—you looked so embarrassed, it was written all over your face, you sly hobbit—"

Bilbo spluttered, and Aragorn and Boromir shared wide-eyed looks as they connected the dots. Legolas's eyebrows shot up, realization flitting across his face. The young elven prince then turned to stare at Bilbo with a look of morbid fascination. The hobbit remained red.

"Ah, but young Frodo," Viper spoke up, his voice muffled by Bilbo's hand. The hobbit jerked it back, and Viper gave them a cheeky grin. "I wouldn't be talking. You don't have anything to say, really, what with you and the Lady's niece—what was her name... Emily?" Frodo's face gained a look of complete horror, before Viper had a Halfling bouncing over to him, both hands clapped over his mouth. "Don't you say it, don't you say it!" Muffled laughter was his response.

Everyone looked quite bewildered, and Frodo stared at Viper in some sort of fascination. "H-How did you know all that?" The Halfling asked. "Only Bilbo knew about Em—Um, Emily... and he's never told me those stories!"

Viper rose up and hopped onto another chair, sitting with his legs crossed and his hands gripping the edge of the seat. They tensed. Viper was known to surprise you with his fancy acrobatics at any given moment, and he was in just the right position to flip into the air—they didn't know how he could, from that position, but it was Viper; he was known to accomplish the impossible The gloved hands came together in a clap, and they relaxed only slightly. "Time for that, later." The hooded man told them. "Let's all take a in-depth study of the Ring's most simple function, yes?

"We all know that is one dangerous piece of jewelry—shiny, but dangerous, yes it is. It can peruse your thoughts and dreams, seduce you and convince you that it can give you anything; I don't know why you'd believe it, I mean, what can a ring do but look pretty on one's finger? Honestly, I think this world's coming to an end, it's inhabitants are so gullible—you are!" he insisted, at their offended looks. He sighed dramatically, bracing his hands behind his head and leaning back. "To do that, though, the Ring has to know what one wishes for, your deepest desire. To know those, it must enter your mind. It shifts through your very thoughts when you come into contact with it, choosing the wisest to manipulate, the one dream that would convince you that submitting to it's will would be the correct thing to do, the way to get what your heart desires." He turned to the elder hobbit. "Bilbo, you wished to know how I knew all of those, rather secret, things about you, yes?"

The hobbit nodded hesitantly, and Viper gave him a grin. "Well, I did exactly what the Ring does."

Silence was what greeted his admittance. Until Gimli leaned forward, his beard trembling with his emotions. "What?!" he bellowed. Viper flinched back ever so slightly, but only Aragorn, Elrond, Gandalf and—surprisingly—Glorfindel saw it. They frowned. "Wh-what do you mean, you did what the Ring did? That accessory," he flung a finger to the chain that disappeared into Frodo's collar, and the hobbit shifted his shirt to cover it nervously, "is evil, Viper!"

"Yes," Viper agreed, and they shot him disbelieving looks. The hooded man gave the appearance of rolling his eyes, before placing a hand on his chest. "But I am not."

This time, only Glorfindel and Aragorn heard the slight hurt in his voice, at the thought that they believed him to be evil. Aragorn's heart ached. He wanted to rush forward and tell the enigma that, no, that wasn't true at all, they'd never think that—but he kept silent. He could speak with him later. He'd have never guessed Viper held insecurities like this, he mused to himself a bit sadly, but Viper was only human, wasn't he? Everyone had such feelings. Viper would be no different. He wasn't sure why he'd thought the man would. He was expecting too many amazing things, and miracles, from his new friend. This was wrong...

"Of course not," Gandalf instead assured, and Viper tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing them. "Just... how, may I ask?"

"Yes," Viper nodded, before he shifted in his seat and hummed, almost uncomfortably. "It is just something I taught myself. I am not entirely sure where it originated from, in me, but I can do it. I had to establish that connection with Bilbo's mind, first—that is the reason I knew such things, Halfling. Now that I have made the connection, I can begin building the shields."

"Building?"

"Yes, it's like building. Brick by mental brick, if you would. Although, my own mind had so much more complicated defenses," he graced them with a smirk. They shuddered collectively, imagining what defenses he'd erected—but they still didn't know enough of the subject to rightfully make an image. That only made it more terrifying. Except, Frodo was still a ways back in the conversation. "But, what about me?" He blurted, then blushed as Viper looked at him curiously "I mean, you knew about Emily!"

"Only because Bilbo knew." Viper explained, and Frodo breathed out a breath, his face smoothing out from it's previously scrunched-in-confusion position. "Oh," he mumbled simply.

"Now!" Viper clapped his hands again, then braced them on the edges of his seat again. Before they could think of tensing, he gave a laugh and flipped into the air, landing before Bilbo, reaching out, he gripped the hobbit in a vice like grip and peered into his face. Bilbo struggled for a moment, until he glanced into the shadows of Viper's hood—and his eyes glazed over.

The others in the room were frozen as time passed on. Frodo looked unsure, fidgeting hesitantly. Boromir and Aragorn migrated a few feet closer as Legolas remained near the back, observing the two with a small amount of concern. Elrond and Gandalf leaned toward one another and conversed near-silently while Glorfindel stayed rooted to the spot, staring absentmindedly at Viper.

A snap sounded, and they blinked as Viper grinned, his fingers poised. The occupants in the room stumbled backwards as a ripple of pure, unadulterated power rush outward, and Viper feel to his knees, clutching his head. But he was grinning.

The door banged open minutes later—which were spent with them staring open-mouthed at the cheerful Viper—and Thranduil ran into the room with Gloin and a few other more magic-sensitive elves. "What has happened?" The elven king demanded. "Mithrandir? Did you...?"

"'Twas not me," the old wizard replied, gesturing at Viper, who was being helped up by Aragorn and Boromir.

The hooded man ignored their stares and grinned right at Bilbo's face—the hobbit was gaping, eyes wide. It was comical, to him. "Your mind, Bilbo Baggins," he concluded with a cackle, "is a very interesting place."

"Are you alright?" Aragorn fretted, examining Viper closely. "I mean—what was that?"

"Just a result," Viper dismissed it with a wave of his gloved fingers. "I daresay it was acceptable."

"I.. I can't." Bilbo gasped, then. Frodo rushed over tom him and grasped his arms worriedly. "Bilbo,. Are you alright?"

The old hobbit only grinned a gummy smile. "I can't hear it anymore! The Ring," he swiped at the chain around Frodo's neck and stared at the sparkling accessory in fascination, "is silent to me!"

The rest of them stood there, bewildered and stunned as the two happy hobbits accosted Viper with thank-yous and grateful exclamations.

"That power..." Thranduil trailed off, before turning to Elrond, "it was him?"

The elf lord nodded mutely, not trusting his mouth.

"By the Valar," the ruler of Mirkwood breathes, eyes wide.

Just another thing to add to the mystery that was Viper, they presumed.

oOoOo

"What was that?"

"I thought I already explained it?"

"No, that that—I heard you, even if it didn't make any sense to me. But... Before. When you were telling of what you were about to do."

"Alright, I'll bite. What do you want to know?"

Glorfindel sat back with a sigh, hesitating. He and Viper were alone in one of the studies, which he had dragged the younger male to upon the end of their unscheduled and mind-boggling "meeting." He sat in the chair while the enigma he pondered perched up on the desk, hands supporting his chin. Viper tilted his head at him curiously.

"It was when you said you were going to 'do what the Ring did,' and Gimli exploded." He started, eventually. "He shouted at you..." He watched Viper tense. "When you next spoke, I heard... You sounded sad, hurt. Like you thought he and the rest of us actually believed you were like the Ring just because you might have—and now we know that you actually do have—the same abilities... or at least one, that the Ring has." Glorfindel took a deep breath, observing how Viper's grin was gone, his body stressed. He frowned. "Viper? Why?"

"What?" Viper breathed. "'Why' what?"

"You know what I'm asking, child."

"Don't call me that!" Viper hissed, suddenly angry. His voice was cold, icy, so frosty that Glorfindel stiffened. The elf actually caught the tone—it was hurt, pain, sadness; so raw... His bright eyes widened and he leaned forward, hand coming to rest on Viper's knee. "...Viper?" He kept his voice soft.

The hooded man took a shuddering breath, as if his next words caught in his throat. When he spoke, his voice was shaky. "I... Just, don't. Don't call me that." I'm older than you, fool. You're the child here. I'm so much older than you, so much older than you'll ever know—so much older and you will never know...

The elf lord didn't move. "...Viper, please."

"No!" Viper braced his hands on the table, slipped his leg out from under Glorfindel's hand and flipped his feet into the air. He stood on the table, on his hands. He seemed to stare at Glorfindel for a moment, before lowering himself just slightly, and then flipping off of the desk. He landed solidly on his feet. Glorfindel tried to focus, tried not to pay the movements any mind, but he couldn't help but find himself mesmerized by Viper's skills. The were so smooth and graceful, flowing together seamlessly. "Don't. Don't talk, don't ask me, don't speak..." Viper breathed out, a soft, almost hysterical laugh escaping his mouth. Glorfindel's eyes were wide. "Leave it alone, leave me—alone! Don't try to solve me! I'm—I'm not a puzzle! Stop it! I want all of you to stop!" He shouted. His paused, before slapping gloved hands over his mouth in shock. Glorfindel rocketed out of his chair but, before he could say anything, Viper dashed from the study, slipping through the window like a thief in the night.

The door slammed open. Aragorn ran into the room, his eyes wide. "Was that... Was that Viper I heard, shouting...?" The Ranger gasped. "Please say no... What was spoken... It—"

"It is of no use," Glorfindel slumped back into his seat dejectedly. "He's escaped out the window."

Aragorn sat down with a thump as the elf confirmed that, yes, the person he'd heard shouting—his voice full of such emotion—had indeed been Viper. "Just like with the Hall of Healing incident, then," he mumbled aloud, staring at the desk absently, the situation still being processed in his mind, "when he disappeared with a fever. I heard Legolas and Gimli discussing he'd left through a window..." He paused, turning to the golden-haired elf with hard eyes. "What did you say to him? Those words..." Aragorn swallowed thickly. "I didn't know he felt that way..."

"Nor did I," the other sighed. "I wanted to speak with him, wondering how he could think we thought him evil—you did hear the note in his voice, when Gimli shouted at him, did you not?"

Aragorn nodded, "I was going to speak with him about it later, after supper."

"I think you won't see him for a few days..." Glorfindel pinched the bridge of his nose, guilt striking him in the gut. "That lad needs people to be there for him, I daresay. The hurt, pain, sadness... You should have seen him. He ran away, Estel! From me! I'd.. I would never hurt him. He is... too innocent."

Aragorn was silent for a while, pondering an answer. Soon, he only sighed and sunk into another chair. "He needs help," he said sadly. "Viper... he needs help."

oOoOo

I shouldn't have said that.

Panic attacks weren't uncommon for him. He'd had them plenty of times before, however few and far in between. He wasn't sure why one had come now, and how that talk with the blond elf had triggered it, but those thoughts were in the back of his mind as he tried to take in breathes, stumbling to his hands an knees.

I just blew up, I can't believe—

The gasps were ragged, painful. They tore through his throat, searing his chest on the inside. There was a pressure around his lungs, his mind was in disarray. He was frightened. Not much could scare him, but these people had managed to make him afraid in under the span of two months! He wanted to laugh at the irony—he was known to be a right cruel bastard in many words—apparently not this one.

Oh gods, I shouldn't have said anything!

He'd had thought they wouldn't trust him—it had only been such little time since they'd all met him. But no; they were concerned for him, worried for him, wanted to help him.

His grin was tense, hurting. Tears stung his eyes and paved salty trails down his face as small, pained noises erupt from his mouth.

Why did he have t ask that, as if he cared? As if they all cared? Stop, I wish they'd stop, it hurts!

It hurt, it really hurt. He struggled to breath, collapsed in one of the gardens—he wasn't sure which it was, he'd been in a hurry to get away—from them. Hopefully they wouldn't find him—but, oh god! It hurt!

A small voice in the back of his head—so quietly that in his panicking state he barely registered it—was saying that, maybe, he really did want them to find him. He wanted them to run around, searching for him. He wanted them to help, offer aid, and he wanted to accept it. He wanted to be cared for, after so many, many eons of only caring for himself. He wanted them, any of them, to rush to his side and look at him with those concerned faces—

He choked, tears spilling down. His lungs were on fire, trapped between two walls that were slowly closing in on each other, crushing, crushing him—

A hand thumped on his back—gently, but he still fell forward in his weakened state, but someone caught him and held him close, one hand on his back and the other carding through his hair under the hood. "Easy there, easy." Someone else—other than the one holding him—spoke gently from his left—or was it his right? He wasn't sure, right now. "Come, breath... There we go. It's alright. Look, you are doing great. Let us keep this up..."

He whimpered breathlessly, the noise but a whisper escaping his mouth, but the arms around him tightened, and the one who kept talking in that gently voice laid a hand on his lower back, and another hand rubbed up and down his arm. The voice kept speaking, soothingly, and Viper felt himself calm down. He leaned into the warmth, his body was so cold, and panted.

He remembered his first panic attack. It had been a bit shortly after he realized he truly couldn't die, a time after all his close ones had passed on. He was so alone, so lonely, so desperate, so missing them all... He'd collapsed. He couldn't breath at all. Everything was so tense, hurting.

He'd thought, maybe, this would kill him?

It hadn't worked either.

He'd been disappointed.

Then he'd been horrified.

He could suffer much, like this, or even worse, but he could never die.

He'd suffer, but no freedom through death like a lot of torture victims could and had chosen to relieve themselves of their pain. They kill themselves, unable to bear it any longer—but he didn't have that option.

This was worse than death. Worse than even hell, he thought.

That realization had been a big one. He'd been so broken. So lonely, all alone, so sad, so tired.

A sob ripped from his throat. It burned, it was try from trying to breath too hard. He felt his muscles loosen up, and his body fell limp. The arms held him still. The voice, paused, before continuing again, soothing, gentle—but a hint of worry colored it, more than it had before.

"Shhh," the person hushed him. Who was it? It sounded like an elf, very familiar... "It's alright. You're okay. You're safe. Calm down, just breath in... out..."

His mind cleared slightly, and his tilted his head back, looking up. "... B-Boromir?" He choked, still breathless from his panic attack. The Son of Denethor only smiled softly down at him, his calloused hand running through his silky locks that hid under his hood. Concern glinted in his eyes. Viper twisted around until he faced the other person, trying to see through the tears that clouded his eyes, making his vision watery.

Legolas kept speaking, so softly, rubbing his shoulder, his arm, his back. He hushed him when he tried to speak, and smiled at him calmly. Viper felt his vision start to fade, his mind going blank. Sleep soon overtook him, and he was so very confused.

After all, it had been a long, very long time, since anyone had calmed him down from a panic attack.

oOoOo

No one spoke of what had happened—for all Viper knew, Legolas and Boromir hadn't told a soul. Somehow he doubted that, but it was nice to be ignorant sometimes, of such things.

The Fellowship left that day. The others gathered before Elrond who was giving a farewell speech, but Viper didn't feel like receiving it. He leaned against a pillar, some ways away, arms crossed. Boromir and Aragorn kept glancing at him with concern showing in his eyes, but Viper was grateful to notice that Legolas kept his eyes firmly set on the speaking elf lord, refusing to look at him until he'd determined Viper felt like talking. He tilted his head, bored, before focusing in on Elrond's speech.

"—setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him no oath nor bond is laid, to go further than you will." the lord of Rivendel spoke, pinning his intense stare on each of the company. Viper stayed in the shadows, and Elrond decided to skip him. Viper silently thanked the man.

"Farewell." He said instead, to all of them. "Hold to your purpose. May the blessings of Elves and Men and all free folk go with you."

Sam, Merry, Pippin and Frodo shared determined looks with one another, before starting out of the gates. Legolas and Gimli pressed their fists over their hearts and bowed to their families—Legolas to his father, and Gimli to his and his cousins. Then, they too followed after the hobbits and a retreating Gandalf.

Viper slipped from the shadows and stealthily made his way through the gates. No one saw him. He allowed a small smile to grace his lips, before glancing through the gates at the others. Boromir watched Elrond spread his arms in a gesture of farewell, before the man of Gondor spun on his heel and left the city of Rivendel, after the others and himself. Only Aragorn remained, hesitant to step to the other side of the gate. He glanced back, and caught the elven Arwen's eye. Viper watch them have some sort of silent conversation, before Aragorn gave a small smile and turned—and left the place of his childhood. Perhaps for the last time. None of them was sure they'd come back.

Except for him, Viper knew, as he raced after the group, then slowed to match pace with Tharbadir—who'd refused to let them leave without him, the stubborn stallion.

Maybe he wouldn't come back, perhaps... But he definitely wouldn't die. Not on this journey. Not ever, apparently.

Sometimes, he wished he'd never been born.

oOoOo

You know what? I just don't care anymore T-T I'm bored, there's nothing too do, and the amount of reviews I've gotten on this is altogether shocking. Therefore, since you have all been such dutiful and flat-out lovable readers, I present you all with this third chapter, about three-thirds of a month earlier than I promised. I hope you're happy ^-^

An another note, and I'll probably go into more detail on this next Author's Note, there are no slash, or otherwise, pairings in the story. No pairings at all.

I'll also ask you all to hop down to my profile and vote on a poll that is super important to this story and I kinda need to get all the votes in before the month is over, or I won't be able to very well continue this story yet.

Thanks a bunch, love you all,

~Scylar X.