CHAPTER 34 - After the storm

The downpour had ceased, leaving them drenched but content. Kal watched the blackness of the night settled before her eyes, feeling so very alive with the whispered melodies drifting on the waves. So very aware of it all, from the land under her feet to the skies overhead, to the tree of their retreat; to the novel feeling of belonging, sprawled and cradled as she was against him. They had descended down against the thick trunk of the tree together, and now Kal rose and fell with his chest. She pressed her face to his neck. "What now?" she broke the silence, lifting her head to look at the elf.

"Now..." Legolas watched her intently for a time as if measuring his words. She felt his hand along her side, reaching from her thigh to her hip and finally resting around her waist. He pulled her upward and closer. "Will you stay?"

There was nothing but earnest sincerity in those three words, and they rang in her ears just as the depths of his eyes turned and twisted whatever thoughts mangled inside her head. "Here, on the isle? With you...?" Kal managed, her hand raised in curiosity, one finger trailing along his cheek before gliding away to feel the shell of his ear. Kal felt him go taut beneath her, and saw the greys and blues in his eyes giving way to a darker shade. It felt good.

"For me," the elf said in a strangled voice as he removed her hand from his face, fingers weaving with hers.

Unable to resist Kal reached again and ran her finger lightly over his bottom lip. The notion was foolish and absurd. She rose and curled herself closer into his lap, pleased when the elf swiftly brought her in. "You and I?"

"You and I," he grinned but his words were firm as he tipped her chin up to meet her eyes.

Kal then felt his lips resting lightly on her forehead and drew away with a playful shiver. "You make me weak, elf," she masked her fear with a jest.

"That makes two of us," he replied, though his smile wavered. At closer view his gaze was hazy, and his usual reserved manner appeared to crack and wither with every movement she made. He buried his face into her lightly wet hair, breathing deeply. "We should go inside," he spoke into her hair, though he was loath to move at all from between the roots of the tree, which had so generously welcomed them to rest beneath its boughs. But night had already fallen.

He ran his hand across her back, frowning at the state of her attire. "You are soaked. Is this all you have?" he was referring to her tunic.

Kal nodded into his chest.

"Come," Legolas hedged and so they gathered themselves and called to Eron before heading upward.

They advanced together in silence, their progress slowed by his injury as the elf moved with the partial aid of the crutch Kal had retrieved. She felt him keenly, leaning lightly against her, trusting her with his balance. A sinuous thought trickled its way into her mind. There was no search to be had in this state. At least for now, the elf was forced to stay put and not venture anywhere into peril. Mordor was a faraway memory though grating and alive every day in much of what she did. And it now threatened to take more from her than she ever thought possible. Kal had no remembrance of a time when she had felt so free and yet to tethered. They entered the stone halls and traversed the corridor leading further inside, propped against one another in silent comfort.

"This way," the elf motioned when they reached a junction of corridors. Deep within the settlement he led her, and Kal realized they came to a place she had never been.

"Here," he pointed as Legolas moved towards a door and opened it, making a motion with his hand for her to enter. Kal raised an eyebrow but bent down to Eron bidding him stay, and the wolf obediently descended on all fours beside the door. Following inside after his welcoming gesture she saw a room not much different to her own. There was a cot arranged in one corner, and Kal noticed very few personal items laid across the chamber. The space was clean and it was warmer here. Her searching gaze flitted over the room as Legolas went towards one corner to retrieve a thick cloth. The elf then reached her and placed the cloth over her head with a smile, making circular motions so as to dry her hair.

Kal ran her fingers along his forearms, stilling his movements. She took the cloth sheepishly and began drying her own hair. Legolas then turned his attention to a wooden shelf lining one of the walls, where Kal saw what appeared to be items of clothing.

"Try this," he said simply, drawing close and holding a folded bundle of clothing.

Kal grimaced as she wrapped the cloth around her hair. "It is no need, truly. I should fare well in my own garb."

His smile faded somewhat. "I would prefer caution in this instance. It might be too large for you, but it is dry."

Dazedly gaping at him Kal took the proffered bundle. "You are... insistent," she settled for a softer word with a grin. Somehow calling him a blasted elf did not come as easily anymore.

Kal looked to the item in her arms, and as the elf turned from her she saw him pull his own wet tunic over his head, replacing it with a dry one. She followed his movement with entranced curiosity and even took two hesitant steps, the need to touch him burning at the tips of her fingers. Kal then remembered the grey offering she held, the cloth immensely soft to the touch. Without a second thought she buried her face in it. It had his scent, Kal surmised closing her eyes. In swift movements she divested herself of the wet garment before throwing the gifted one over her head. It had a flat collar, embroidered with remnants of silver thread at the hem. It was a male fit to be sure and large for her size, reaching past her knees.

Legolas regarded her with a glimmer in his brightened gaze as he neared. "Light shades suit you."

Kal pulled at the long sleeves, unsure what to say. All she saw were his eyes, which strayed to her hands. He reached for each of her wrists and rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. "There," he said when done.

It felt good to be enveloped by his scent but not the same as holding him close. With that thought in mind Kal swiftly sought him in an open embrace, immensely gratified by his startled bout of laughter. He was different, and yet the same. She breathed him in.

"I must go see to my brother," he spoke muffled into her hair, holding and swaying with her gently. One arm was trapping her to him while his other hand slid upward with more pressure than required, reaching to cradle the back of her head. "Do you wish to join me?"

Kal hesitated. "I believe it best you go alone, for now."

"Wait for me, here?" the elf asked softly, a smothered edge of need to his words. He must have known it made him appear vulnerable, the masks fallen and shattering, but he seemed not to care.

Kal nodded wordlessly before her mind even caught the meaning of his question, drawing the hapless conclusion that there was little she wanted to deny him. There was little she could deny him. It was frightful and Kal bit down harshly on her lip at the discovery, but she liked him close. She wanted him close, for as long as possible. Kal lifted her head so her nose brushed against his ear. Her own hand tangled in his hair pulling just enough to feel his fingers stiffen into her, his shudder sudden and inviting.

"I will not be long," Legolas said before he reluctantly released her.

His breath tickled her ear, and Kal smiled. She would wait.

When Legolas crossed the threshold, he saw his brother was awake. He had been moved to his own space from the healing chamber and now lay abed with an utterly defeated look upon his tired features. Legolas knew it spoke more than anything of the burden of boredom his brother loathed, ever since they had been elflings. Tadion had never taken well to being forced off his feet, a trait which survived well into his later years.

"Highness," his brother leveled Legolas with a blank stare, and the corners of his lips struggled against turning upward.

Legolas drifted towards a seat at the side of his brother and descended with as much care as his own injury allowed.

"Ai..." Tadion grimaced, discontent plain on his pallid face. "They had you limping," he remarked dryly on the state of his older kin.

"And many other things were it not for you," his brother murmured.

"If not for her," Tadion countered, the hesitant tone a novel development.

When silence fell Tadion looked into his brother's eyes briefly, only to look again. His own eyes widened before he let his head fall down tiredly onto the pillow. "For Eru's sake..." he said dejectedly unto the ceiling.

Legolas stared away, half a smile pulling at his lips.

Tadion tried to speak but a heavy cough shook his frame, and his lips stained with thin webs of crimson. Legolas reached for a wet cloth placed in a bowl beside the pallet and wiped his mouth.

They both sat staring into the empty space before them.

Tadion pursed his lips. "It took you long enough."

The other elf scoffed, but said nothing.

"Well, so it goes."

Legolas frowned, watching his kin with mild surprise etched on his face. "That is all you have to say?" he queried in bleak disbelief.

"What else is there to say!" Tadion broke into an honest, mild chortle. "Please, brother, to me it was painfully obvious from the moment I saw you speaking in the woods," he drawled.

"Was it now," his brother said, woefully unconvinced.

"Do not insult me," Tadion muttered, glancing back to the empty ceiling. "I will still say I disapprove. But then, what does it all matter anymore. Customs, laws, peoples," his words meandered. "We barely ever manage to keep a few of the common values alive, and even then we falter."

"What in Arda happened to your face?" Legolas changed the topic, pointing to the blackened marks on his brother's jaw. It was only now that he noticed them.

"Your chosen happened," Tadion grumbled. "She nearly speared me through for you." He ceased for a moment as if mulling over his words. His green eyes lost their usual terseness. "I may have been partly mistaken about her."

Legolas accepted the barest apology his brother would ever give, with no more than a nod and a light look of knowing mischief.

"You still mean to pursue the Black Land?"

The fair-haired elf looked to his feet. "You know I will."

Tadion offered a shattered sigh. "In truth, I may even pity her," he added wryly, and none said another word.

"That wooden chest, in the corner," the bedridden elf spoke into the silence after a while, pointing with his chin towards said object. "Go and unlock it."

Legolas did as was bid. Upon opening the intricately carved lid he saw an array of personal effects.

"There is a green silk pouch within."

Legolas took the indicated object and returned to his brother's side.

"Open it," and his elder did so, unfastening the strings and turning it over so the contents spilled into his palm.

"What is this?..." he asked Tadion in astonishment and mild confusion.

"They were ours to exchange when we were wed. Esteriel and I. Of course, we..." he trailed away into another fit of coughing, "...we were never given the chance." He regarded his brother. "Yours, now," he said with a vague wave of his hand.

"Tadion, I cannot take this," Legolas looked to the shimmering, golden sheen with a grave and contrite expression.

"Do not be ridiculous. Do what you will with them," he jested dismissively, but reserved kindness shone through his emerald eyes.

Legolas regarded his brother; his younger brother, who had seen too much, lost too much and hoped too little in his short life; who faced his grief of loss as best he could; who was yet alive and at his side. His fingers closed around the slight shapes, his fist come to his chest. "Your gift is accepted, Tadion son of Thranduil."

"They are mere objects either way," Tadion said, his eyes again on the ceiling. "The memory must be put to rest," he followed with a shaky sigh, speaking as to himself. "...I will see her again."

Legolas lowered his head in honor of the words, watching Tadion with a raw expression of gratitude and understanding for this uncertain and strenuous hope.

The two brothers sat for a while longer in amiable silence, recalling days afore time and basking in memories until Tadion finally fell into a deep, healing sleep.

When Legolas returned he found Kal splayed across the cot, her eyes hooded but awake. He closed the door and went to her, kneeling by her side.

Her gaze brightened considerably with his closeness, and the elf was stricken by how fair she was when hope lit her face. Garbed as Kal was in his tunic with the material sliding off one shoulder, she appeared so much smaller. A strong urge to protect her rose within him despite knowing the strength she was capable of wielding. No, this was not a time for such things, a former thought emerged. There never had been, not for him. But the refuge she offered drew him in, like the frail flame of a spent candle during a stormy winter night; and now, looking at her, the elf knew he craved its life giving warmth.

Kal reached for his cheek as he watched her, the feathering touch finding purchase down to the collar of his garb and beckoning him down to her. Legolas followed and his arms soon wound around her as they fell against each other. Kal relished straining and reaching above him, and their legs came tangled together. Still so different, this side to him. It was meek, unguarded, and so giving. For the briefest of moments, Kal was hit with the high contrast between this and his morose expression when she had asked the elf to lead her out of North Ithilien.

"How is he?" Kal asked, allowing her full weight to rest against him.

"As well as can be," Legolas replied, fallen on his back and unable to cease reaching for her hair. His hands caught in the rich soft mane, sifting through long strands.

If she had not better notions of him, Kal would have thought him hungry. He watched her curiously, and all of it began with that one moment on the shore. The rain had been cold, and he had been warm.

Kal reached for his face again, palming his cheek and parting his lips with hers boldly and avidly. She felt one of his deceptively elegant hands trailing from her hair to the back of her neck and along her spine, reaching delicately to her lower back.

"Show me again," Kal asked, pulling away to place her lips to his brow, lost in the uneven rise and fall of his chest.

"Show you..." the elf blinked, distracted, and visibly affected by her ardor. Kal felt the hand on her back keeping her down before gliding to her hip, fingers curling into her garments.

"The memories," she entreated, her words broken by the heat pooling akin to a boiling waterfall into her center. When she met his eyes they were more black than grey. She would lose herself in them. "I want to see it again."

Long dark lashes lowered. His smile was fainter but it carried. "...What do you want to see?" The last time had not ended so well.

"The green, the skies," Kal ceased when his other hand reached along her side and pressed her hips down fully. Unknowingly she had begun to roll them against his. He had always been so tense and contained, but now Kal felt a restlessness about him, a muted and tediously restrained fervor in the way he was touching her. She drew away and regarded his young face, his lost gaze, the faint alluring flush spread lightly over his nose and cheekbones. So he was just as weak as she. The proof of it pleased her. "I want to see who you were, before," Kal spoke against his parted mouth, "The places you traveled," she added to her wish.

Legolas turned with them both so they were facing each other on their side, holding her close. He would not seek too deep. "Then come to me," he grinned.

Kal leaned closer, starting with his lips and leading him with the languid pursuits of her tongue. She grasped his shoulders before her hands wound around his neck again, aflame with the warmth of his mouth and the hardness of his chest and that torturous pressure of him against her. She soon stilled as he attempted to reach her, and Kal allowed his flow into her thought. His light had her mewling softly as it meshed with her, and she drifted on the drumming of his heart.

Images were forming as beheld through the eyes of another, swimming in vivid shades of bluish-green and dusted amber gold. She saw peaceful sunsets where a never seen body of fire crossed the path to a land undying. She saw a youngling, his silver head bobbed down in wonder at his first sight of a woodland animal. Then a great living tree and halls of endless beauty, adorned with elegant arches and living embellishments.

There were more of his kind, tall and proud and ethereal, and a great silver-haired elf with a keen eye and steady smile, sparring with his young son. She saw blackness and glowing pinpricks again, and a silver sphere pouring its light over a dark forest, and tall mountains looming in the distance.

Kal deepened the kiss, emboldened by the elating sensation of being surrounded and wrapped around each other like growing vines fleeing to catch the sun. She saw skies of the brightest hue, and a sea of greys and dark blues, shimmering and as deep and hidden as his eyes.

Lies...

She gasped, the word slashing into her akin to a deadly blade.

Down...

The voiceless words bellowed against the walls of her mind, down to the very core; to her open, exposed being. Kal stiffened and her fingers went rigid around his neck, the wholesome bliss shattered, crashing around her akin to black shards from a falling wall of glass.

Legolas felt her distress and wasted no time in reaching for her wildly flailing arms. "Kal..., what ails you?" his voice reached her from so far away.

She was alone, on her own, drowning. Her skin and flesh beneath ached and burned under blazing eyes, ruthless and all seeing in their chase. To the center... it was both a command and a warning. You must follow, downward... And then it all crumpled in on itself, the nefarious doom, the molten burning cores, the threat shadowing her sight of him.

She tried to cry out, to will away the ice hot needles spearing through the fabric of her inner self. And there was such power, wading in and out of her, tempting with greatness yet shrieking with punishment. Kal felt as though her being would break at the seams. She shielded her face from the specter of the Tower looming before her with fractured memories, but the more she ran the closer it appeared, and soon the alchemy halls were calling to her. Kalghâshaure...

"Release me!" she cried hoarsely to no one.

It lasted little with the surge of light bursting and tearing shafts through the nether, and Kal grasped hopelessly at the tunneling rays reaching for her.

The shadow receded and the half-orc only noticed she was weeping when she found herself in the room again, held fast and securely into a vice grip. She felt his arms safely around her shoulders. The elf must have brought her into a seating position and was cradling her to him, whispering things Kal failed to hear or perceive.

"Elf..." she pleaded longingly, the saving light from before glowing brighter and warmer around her.

"I have you," demure words were reassuring her, "I have you, Kal." His beating heart and presence slowly quietened her own. "It is safe here," he took her face in his palms. There was a deep red scratch on his left cheek.

He lies.

Kal hissed in her stupor, her shoulders still shaking from the onslaught of the swift and vicious invasion on her spirit.

"You are safe," Legolas repeated time and again, touching his forehead to hers, holding her tightly as though she would up and flee. He moved back and forth with her in his arms, "I will ensure it."

Kal listened to the soothing earnestness of his voice, all the while striving to smother the empty word yet resounding in her head, gaining berth in endless ripples.

Lies...

A/N:

Thank you for your thoughts on the previous update. Hope you're all doing well.

Tolkien fic of the day:

What Is and What Should Never Be by kenaz on AO3

Source: Silmarillion

A short AU piece on Sauron in Númenor. It follows an encounter with Tar-Míriel. Extravagant and menacing, and I loved it.