I have suffered injury before—many times—but I have never been like this. I have woken after concussions , unsure of what has happened, missing memories which later return, but now...now I have awoken into a world that makes no sense. A world that frightens me with it's intensity and it's disorder.
When Elrohir leaves that fear begins to choke me.
It is not as if I cannot remember...I do. I remember the children playing upon the wall. I remember seeing it fall, running, running to reach them. I even remember the weight of the stones when they crushed me.
I know who I am, I know why I am here, I know everyone around me, but I do not understand why they do what they do. I do not understand the maelstrom of emotion that swirls within me. Intense grief ...what do I grieve for? Raging anger...what has enraged me? Ice cold terror that grips me now I am alone...It is worse than when I stood under the nazgul taking aim at it in the sky.
I can control none of it. My walls have been destroyed and all the building blocks of Legolas come rushing out in a tumble. I have no way of reassembling myself to order. I do not know how.
I know one thing though.
I need to see Maewen. I need to explain. I need to. I need to hold her close...I cannot let her go.
So I go in search of her.
But the problem is I do not know where to find her. If she is not with me then where is she? I go in the end to Erynion for where else can Maewen be but with him? But not only that; Erynion has always been my port in a storm. The still place that I run to. Since we were children he has held my temper in check, negotiated my wildness, steadied me when I needed it and I do need it now. What I would have done if he had not accompanied me to Ithilien I do not know. But of course he did...because Maewen was there.
"Legolas?" He is surprised when he opens his door and finds me there, and oh it is such a relief to see him.
"Is Maewen here?" I ask, all a rush, "I need to see her...Is she here?"
"No, Legolas. Is she not with you?" His eyes are full of concern and that uncontrollable panic rises up within me.
"I have to see her," I gasp, "I have made such a mistake. I have done everything wrong. I have to see her."
"Come in." His voice is gentle as he guides me inside, as if he speaks to a child but I barely notice in my anxiety. "What are you doing, Legolas? You are not even dressed, you fool." It is said with affection and only then do I glance down to see the bandages around my chest. I have forgotten to put on a shirt.
"Sit here." He leads me firmly to a chair and deposits me there. "You can wear a shirt of mine. You cannot run about the palace like that. You are not a wild silvan child now." He smiles, but at the edges of his eyes I see worry. "Does anyone know you are here?"
I have to stop to think.
"Elrohir told me to wait for Elladan," I say at last with a frown and Erynion laughs gently.
"Well I do not think he meant you to come here to wait for him. I will take you back."
And then I remember. His calm easy presence had momentarily removed her from my mind but it all rushes back.
"No! I need to find Maewen." And I go to stand, to leave if he will not help me for why is she not here? Where else can she be? It hits me then that perhaps she has already gone and the sickening, relentless panic returns, sweeping in out of nowhere.
"I feel sick, Erynion," I tell him swaying on my feet as my heart pounds and anxiety twists my stomach in knots. "I am going to be sick."
He is there in an instant and I find myself back in the chair, my head between my knees as he kneels in front of me.
"You need to remember to breathe, Legolas." There is no tension in his voice, none at all. Instead it is a soothing melody, washing across my battered fea. "Why so tense...hmm... my friend?" He raises a hand to cup my cheek and it stills me, "What has you so worried? This is not like you. Do not fret about Maewen. We will find her and when we do she will be upset if she knows you stress yourself so. What is upsetting you...have you argued?"
For a moment I think to tell him it all, about Elrohir and I, but I stop myself for that would be yet another betrayal, to tell him before Maewen. It would be piling hurt upon hurt. And he loves her, so surely he would look at me with disapproval. I could not bear that so instead I only shake my head.
"Be like that, then you stubborn creature!" He says with a grin as he sits back on his heels to look at me closely. "You are your own worst enemy but if you will not tell me I cannot make you." And after fixing me with a long hard look he leaps to his feet." I can get you a shirt at least. That much, I hope, you will let me do."
I watch him as he moves across the room. My beloved childhood friend. He has taken all the changes I have forced upon him—and there are many—with acceptance and good nature. I do not deserve him.
I remember then my promise to Maewen as we made our way through the city. I told her I would speak to him, that I would put things right.
"I have wronged you."
He dismisses my words with a wave of the hand.
"You have not wronged me, Legolas."
He has his back to me as he leans over to take a neatly folded shirt out of a drawer, Erynion is always tidy.
"I have wronged you and Maewen. I have kept you apart when I should not have. I will do that no longer, Erynion."
He freezes. The shirt lies motionless in his hand and I see the deep breath he takes to still himself before he speaks to me.
"We will not talk of this now, Legolas. It is not the time."
"It is the time. I have been foolish for too long. I have told Maewen I would speak to you of this and I will."
"When do you tell her this?" Slowly he turns around to face me, "She has not mentioned it to me."
"Before...the day I was injured, before that...in the city." I am beginning to babble and I know it but now I have started I must see this through. "I have grown up, Erynion. I have learned my lesson and I am ready to give you the space you need. I mean it."
But his face is expressionless when he replies, I cannot even read his eyes.
"You do not know what you are saying, Legolas. We will talk on this when you are well perhaps, but not now."
"I know exactly what I am saying!" I am so frustrated with myself for without telling him of Elrohir how can I explain my change of heart? "Maewen is all fire and spirit and I love her for it but I have tried to chain that. I have tried to tie her up and keep her to myself. That is not love! I am wild and chaotic—I know I am—and sometimes that is not what she needs. Sometimes she needs your quiet stillness. There are parts of her I cannot reach, Erynion, and you can."
"Ah, Legolas," he walks over slowly as he speaks and places his shirt in my lap. "What you say is true but we have tried and it is just too difficult between us. Can you not remember?"
"Because I was a foolish child."
"Because you love her."
"And so do you! We complement each other, Erynion, as we always do. It is not a competition between us. I made it one but it never was that."
He sighs; a deep and heartfelt sigh.
"No," he says, "It is not a competition. But you are not yourself, Legolas and so we cannot decide things now. I need to know you mean what you say."
And suddenly, out of nowhere, I am furious for he does not trust me!
I am on my feet then, shoving my arms into the shirt he gave me, hastening to get it buttoned. Swearing at him as I do so.
"Do not treat me as a child, Erynion, an infant who does not know his own mind. I know what I mean. So nice it is to know you do not trust me!"
"I do trust you, Legolas." He puts a hand gently on my shoulder to keep me still. "You know I do."
"But not in this, is that it? Not where it really counts."
"You are not well."
"I am perfectly well!" I know that is not true. I know deep in my heart something is wrong with my mind. I have no control and it frightens me, but I cannot admit that to him. "Since you do not wish to discuss this with me I will find Maewen myself."
"Do not be a fool." There is an edge to his voice now, all the soft kindness is gone and he steps in front of me to restrain me. "You can barely stand Legolas. You are mad if you think I will let you out of here alone."
"Get out of my way!" I go to push past him, swinging my arm to push him away. It is strapped in one of Elladan's careful splints and in my anger, my desperate rush to get away...far away from him, from the room, from the churning of this furious, unexpected rage, I catch him across his face with it as he moves forward to prevent me leaving.
And he drops; he bends over with a cry of pain.
"Damn it, Legolas," he cries, "That hurt!"
When I turn back towards him I see his nose pours with blood. All over his hands, it drips on to the floor. I am horrified. I have done that. I have hurt him.
And suddenly it is all too much, this world which I have stumbled into where nothing makes sense, where I am lost.
I turn and run.
I run from Erynion who I have harmed, from Maewen who will leave me, from Elrohir and Aragorn who confuse me. I run from myself. From this strange, jumbled Legolas I do not understand. I run from them all.
I end up in Arwen's garden. I have planted this for her long ago, not long after she first came to Minas Tirith and it is my favourite place. And today...today it will be my sanctuary. The world presses down on me. All is confusion, even the song of the trees makes no sense today, and I cannot escape. I just cannot run far enough or fast enough so I take myself deep into the undergrowth and there I hide.
I hide where I think they will never find me, for I am silvan and the trees, though I can not—in my panic—understand them, will shield me.
But still, I do not feel safe.