Chapter 42, Under a Spruce Tree
In a small crack between time and space, the battle took place.
The Spirit of the Forest had never before met powers as almighty as Ylvätär maintained. The witch hit the Forest with impeccable sharpness, and her violence almost overwhelmed all good, but she had one flaw. Only one, but with it, she failed at everything.
It did not possess what the Forest had - quietude.
Ylvätär's strikes were spreading hard all over and nearly vanquished the heart of the forest, but the Forest had yet one asset by its side. What the Forest needed now was the gentlest thing life had to offer. It was the tenderest yet most omnipotent power this world held. With the faintest whisper, the Forest called Mother Deer to its side.
If a mother's love for her child was not enough to sway the evil, nothing would be.
Shrouded in the swaying hay, the white-dotted fawn slept by his mother's side. The soothing calm of the mother deer spread all over the forest and enclosed the evil so the four airy knights could seize the witch.
Four winds held Ylvätär firmly in place; the rest of the army remained in their position and waited for the vanguard of the Forest to make its final movement.
Aspen Shoot's secrets were heard. The world inside Father's soul shifted one inch homewards, and rock was smashed.
The Spirit of the Forest offered peace to the witch, as well, were she to abandon all evil. Softly, it waited for the witch's answer, but Ylvätär's direction could no longer be changed. Straightaway, she rejected the Forest's offer and something black began dribbling out of the recesses of the hole inside her core.
The void inside her diminished as everything came out. Swiftly, she was drained emptier and emptier until she was thoroughly sucked into nothingness.
The white dove had been sent, but its proposal was thrown away. The witch's time had finally ended, and her golden ring rolled to the ground. When it touched the luscious moss, it crumbled into little grains of sand. A grave opened in the earth and swallowed the sandpile underground.
The evil was no more, and the rupture in the world was mended.
A little breeze eddied all around the forest until it found its home above a silvery head and placed the blurry crown on it. The wind waved forward and wrapped a slender finger into its shelter.
Roots continued slithering underground, and the birds did not cease soaring in the sky. The forest was seen again, and could become its true self.
The forest was found now, therefore it was made whole again.
All nature stilled when the King of the Forest acquired his crown. Heavens sprinkled water to refresh the dead land. Crickets chirped, buttercups tinkled, and the hymns of the forest echoed when the King of the Forest accepted his sovereignty over all woodlands. A new era had begun.
O, hail the Woodland King. Before Thy splendour, we bow, O the King of Willows and Birches!
On a rough mountain slope, the King stood with his children, and it was beautiful. Two majestic elves with shimmering hair stood side by side. A little aspen shoot boldly tried to reach the sky beside those two. The Son bowed before his Father. A missing child had been found, and the family was complete, at last.
Troops of the forest swarmed all around the holy scene. The crown of the forest might be only a whiff of air, but when it was placed on the silvery head, it began to shine and lighten the forest.
My promise prevails, even if your presence in me falters. Fall and you shall be caught.
The forest descended into silence, making space for holiness to rise and renew the earth. Its people held the secret of love, and finally, evil was no more and peace could get ahold of all life.
A breath away from the majestic scene stood one elf. Her green eyes wide open, Sulrochil gaped at the magnificence and saw as the father raised his hand on the son's shoulder and whispered three words. The son shut his eyes and shifted to feel the safeguarding palm better.
Soon, Sulrochil bent her head down in shame. "She is here," the King had said, and all the forest vibrated their approval to Father's Love.
O, hail the Maiden of the Forest! Bless the daughter of the Forest. Before Thy Brilliance, we kneel, O the heir of Innocence and Purity!
Father had chosen love, and the Forest was a wreck no more. The togetherness wrapped the King, his son and the little Aspen Shoot that had finally united the sacredness of the Forest.
Pure light surrounded those three, and Sulrochil slowly slid further from them. She did not know if she moved of her own choice or if the Forest pushed her away, but she was despoiled and could never again be part of this family.
On the mountain of fairness, they are standing, and I fall off. My skin is full of stains, and my soul is evil. I am a whore, an adulterer, a sinner.
She shied away from the blessing of the Spirit of the Forest. Silently, she slogged into the forest and begged for mercy from the trees. No one could help her, though, but at least they could hide her filthiness. The first spruce was thick enough to cover her broken soul. She crawled under it, leaned her back to the tree and tried to cry.
No tears came out of her dried eyes.
The Old Owl knew when the forest stirred. And now it was troubled because of the elf whose soul was trickling away from the others. It hooted to the King.
The King was startled by the unexpected interruption. Soon he acknowledged the Herald's wisdom and glanced around. Mithrandir was gone, as was his usual habit. Two elves still stood by his side, but one was gone. "Where is Sulrochil?"
"She is not far," Legolas said and turned to look in the right direction. "She walked away just a moment ago." He was expecting to see her standing there with Mithrandir, tending to wounded people, or doing anything of purpose, but the only thing that was in the right spot was a tall evergreen tree.
The tree mother hummed as her skirts were full of sorrow. Old Owl flew to perch on its branch and gave one sad hoot.
"The war is over," Father said to his Son. "You have fought enough for today. Go home with Sulrochil."
"There are still battles going on out there. Men are being slaughtered; we have pledged to safeguard them." He looked into the distance and lifted his hand to his side to grab the strap of his quiver.
"Anyone can kill," Father said. "But no one else except you can bring love to our homeland. Our people need your love to shine upon us. There is no one else for them."
"Later. Now we must be with our people until the very end."
"We have already won," Tauriel said, fixing her eyes to the ongoing war. "The war over there is almost finished, but the war in your soul is not. Look at the battles down there. Only the remnants of the third-rate orcs are left. After this, they will surrender easily."
Legolas watched the battles down in the valley. The orcs were few in number and fighting poorly.
"I can see the battle burning in your eyes, like always," Tauriel said. "You are the best because of that, but now it is turning against you. You ought to drop the war cry of your soul and find Sulrochil."
"The Captains can handle the rest of the battles," Tauriel continued. "We all need you to stop fighting and find Sulrochil. The battle does not need you, but she does. The battle is still going on in your veins. Let it go. Trust your people. Be the leader they need now, and trust them to handle the rest. Trust them and give them what they need - your love for Sulrochil."
Legolas still gazed at the battles.
"Give your people what they need," Tauriel continued. "We need to see our leaders love each other - that is why we are doing this today. So that love can dwell in your souls and thus everywhere. What you need to do is let go of war and meet the ghosts with Sulrochil. She needs it. You need it. But, forgive me, of course, those reasons can never be enough for you. You are the Knight of Obligation, so see this: we need you to do it. Our people need you to bathe in love with her. Find her and do what you must, but we must witness that you have beaten the demons when you reappear.
"That is the final battle for you today. Meet the enemy inside her soul," Tauriel ended her speech and dashed towards the valley, her bow in hand, adamant about saving at least a few poor wives of Lake-town from meeting the destiny of becoming widows.
Legolas was not surprised to find Sulrochil under a dense spruce tree.
It was a tree of anguish. All its needles were slowly turning grey and dropping to the ground. The air around the tree shrieked in pain as the wounded elf was hiding in its skirts.
Legolas crawled under the tree into the dark, moist greenness, moving the lowest branches like heavy green doors. The familiar scent of wet moss filled his senses as his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, and he saw Sulrochil's borrowed weapons lying abandoned on the ground.
Sulrochil sat stiffly close to the tree trunk clasping her knees, leaning her forehead down and taking in the shelter only her soul tree could offer. Her first instinct was still to turn to the trees for comfort. Would it ever change?
Her hair spread over her shoulders, shrouding her from all hurtful eyes. It was yet unknown if she would include him in that lot.
Legolas crouched beside Sulrochil. Her soul was a castle of raging torment. Someone was locked in the dungeons, but it was impossible to distinguish who was the convicted and who was the jailer.
He put his hand gently on her back and tried to pull her closer - but she did not let him do it. Unmistakably, she craved to hide everything from him, but a flicker of hope sparked as he realised Sulrochil had stayed so close that Legolas would find her and had not disappeared into the distance. She could have run a thousand miles for him to never find her, but under the shelter of a spruce tree, she had hidden herself.
All that had occurred pained him as well, and he was not sure where he would seek comfort, if anywhere. So, who was he to accuse her of turning to the trees?
Was Sulrochil the inmate of the dark prison, or was she about to send him into the jail of her soul?
Falling on his knees, Legolas draped his arm over the tiny, wraithlike figure and hoped there was enough willingness in her soul to accept the remnants of his strength to safeguard her.
"I should have been there for you today," he whispered, burrowing his nose into her hair. "Please, forgive me for letting this happen to you."
The hair felt soft under his cheek, but a thick layer of spruce branches was around her soul to hide her from everything. Their spiky needles stabbed his soul, making him aware of her shame. Sultithen, whatever has happened, you are not to be blamed - this was not your fault. The lack of response from Sulrochil made Legolas' fear grow. His throat felt sore when all the possibilities flooded into his mind, and all he could do was wait until the terrified soul of hers would let herself be loved.
"Sultithen nin, do you hear me?" he whispered, nuzzling his nose closer to her ear, and softly kissing her earlobe. "Please, let me see you."
"The forest is pure again, and I rejoice with it," Sulrochil muttered in a shallow voice, still not lifting her head. "Darkness has been defeated, and it brings hope to this world. The Forest finally has its King, and all the evil is banished from this world. Middle-earth can be free because evil is now concentrated on me. The shadows have left the world and gathered into one place - my soul."
"I understand where these thoughts are coming from," Legolas said. "But they are incorrect. You have done nothing wrong and are not to be blamed. It was their sinful deeds, not yours."
For a long time, Sulrochil only sat still as if she did not hear him. "Go away," she finally declared.
"I have no inclination to leave you," Legolas answered. "I will sit here and count the needles on the ground with you as long as you need to."
Sulrochil shrugged, and Legolas had a strong urge to grab her into his arms and hold her tight, but he could not do it - after everything she had been through, he could not force her to do anything, and his heart ached for the sake of his dearest one. This frail windlike creature should only be cherished, and now he had let this happen - and the very thought of this caused his core to rupture violently.
"You should go away," she spoke. "I should have died."
"Why?" Legolas said, sliding his hand down her back, hoping she would lean closer to him - but she did not.
"It was my fault." Her back arched even more rigidly than earlier.
"It was not your fault," he whispered, brushing his lips against the tip of her ear with every syllable.
Legolas shifted an inch further from Sulrochil and sat close enough that she could feel his warmth, but not close enough to touch her. He also moved his arms away from her but draped them in the air close to her. His arms formed a refuge from the outer world but did not force her to do anything.
Sulrochil turned her head slightly so that she could peek at him between her elbows but did not say anything.
"You need space," he said. "I will touch you again when you ask me to do so."
Sulrochil flinched and curled up into a tighter ball. She clutched her knees with all her might to feel something. "What kind of life is awaiting us now?"
"A life together." He ached to touch her, but he had made a promise not to. Please, talk to me, he silently pleaded.
"I am only a slithering serpent unworthy of the union with the sacred family of yours."
"Without you, our family is crippled."
"I do not belong to your family anymore," she whispered. "Let me die. It would have been better to die."
"That is not true."
"I want out of here!" Sulrochil screamed. Abruptly, she sprung up and hit her back against his arms.
"You are, of course, free to go." He moved slightly further from her. "I am not holding you back by force, but, please, don't go."
"I should run as far as I can so as not to ruin your honour! Let me go!"
"I heard the message of the Forest a moment ago," he whispered. "If we succumb to its will, we shall get peace. Listen to its voice, for it is calling you too. You are the daughter of the forest, and it wants you back. I want you to stay with the forest and with me, as well."
Sulrochil sat back stiffly and leaned onto the trunk behind her. Still hiding her face in her arms, she huffed, "I am the epitome of sin, and I will taint your presence if I stay."
"If you go," Legolas said, "I will come with you. If you want to flee, I will flee with you. You have done nothing wrong."
"If you smear mud on white, clean sheets, they get dirty, and no matter how you wash them, you cannot make them spotless again. Forever shall they remain stained!"
"But a soul is not a sheet. It is a bubbling spring, welling fresh water all the time. If someone throws mud into a spring, it shall be clear again soon. A spring wells new water forever; it cannot be dirtied from the outside," Legolas said. "You are not spoiled by their wrongful deeds."
"So, now you are saying that nothing happened!" Sulrochil exclaimed. "You are thinking that because they were not able to finish the deed, nothing happened!"
"I am not implying anything like that. They crossed the line!" Legolas said. Little by little, the destruction of her soul was being revealed to him.
Her soul was locked, and he did not know where the key was. Or if the key even existed. If he touched her, it was wrong. If he did not touch her, it was wrong, as well. To find the escape from this thicket seemed impossible.
"But they did not do it!" Sulrochil snapped.
"That is not the line," Legolas whispered. "They submitted you to their will, and that is the line. What they did was wrong."
"I am a whore."
"No, you are not."
"You just said they submitted me to their will, and that makes me a whore."
"But you did nothing wrong."
"They intruded into my soul! Perhaps they did not get my body, but they plundered my soul! It was the sword of dirt sliding to and fro in my core!"
"Whatever they did was their wrong deeds, not yours. How can I make you believe it?"
"There is nothing you can say to me to make me believe it," Sulrochil said. "Go away and let me die."
Good things die. They always just die, but was there anything good in me in the first place? Perhaps, in the beginning, there was a dab of worthiness in me, yes, but it was destroyed. My own impurity swelled and washed away all that was good.
"I cannot do it with words," he said. "Nor shall I touch you until you let me. All I have is my presence. And time. Will you let me be here with you?"
Sulrochil did not move.
"You are not rejecting my presence, and that is enough, for now," Legolas whispered. "If you let me stay, we can get through this."
Sulrochil shrugged. The prison had been prepared. For the contaminated elf, it had been made, and the elf is me! I am the essence of dirt! I should have taken the poison to sacrifice everything so everyone else could be clean and decent.
I am the tainted bride whose bouquet is made of rotten roses. Forever, I shall be condemned to the prison of shame. The prison is the shape of my body. Shouting would be futile because no one could hear me. Yelling would be pointless because even if someone heard me, they would not arrive.
If I ate the sand where the poison was poured, would it be enough?
"You are not actively throwing me away, and I am glad," Legolas said and looked at the stiffness of Sulrochil's shoulders. Like a frightened mare, she was. All he could do now was wait until she wanted to come back to him. Remain by her side and try to approach her from another direction. Legolas decided to give her a distraction by starting to inquire about other matters, "Can you tell me what happened before you were caught?"
"Everyone died because of me," she stated. "I failed."
"Who died?" Legolas said, moving as close to Sulrochil he could without touching her.
"It was my fault they died. They all died."
"Who died, Sultithen?" he whispered.
"Braigon, Rochirion, Machabon. They all died, and I am responsible."
"This is war. It was not your fault. If it was someone's fault, it was mine."
"No!"
"You felt all my feelings."
Sulrochil nodded.
"I am sorry," Legolas said. "The witch knew how to get you and pulled the right strings."
"I… there was… it was horrible…"
"Do you want to tell me about it now?"
"There were orc heads on spears everywhere."
"The witch made you feel each kill of mine like it was an orc head on a spear?" Legolas said.
"Every kill you have ever made. It was an endless sea of heads on spears, some of the older ones were rotten, and they all were watching me all the time. They followed me, and I felt like I was drowning in the sea of disgusting looks at my body. But that was not all the witch conjured. She made me live through the-" Sulrochil stopped because suddenly a ring of unborn babies bounced in the sky, trying to invade her world.
"If that slimy serpent was not already gone, I would go and single-handedly strangle her for this," Legolas hissed and closed his eyes. "And I don't care if she was a phantom spirit without a solid body - I would have throttled her morbid nothingness with my bare fingers until she died." Legolas paused and inhaled slowly. "But we were not talking about that, no. Let us forget the haunted predator and discuss Braigon and Rochirion. They died when they were protecting you, right?"
"Right."
"It was their job to do that. When they agreed to protect you, they knew it could come to this. You cannot blame them - or yourself - for having done what was expected of them. They wanted to do it and were honoured they were chosen for that task."
"But Machabon… He was only a boy; he should not even have been there. He is not jaded like us."
"I may be jaded," he whispered and lifted his finger close to her face but halted the touch. "But you are not and never will be."
"But there was nothing honourable in the boy's death. I am to be blamed."
"What happened?"
"I put him pulling arrows out of the orc bodies because I saw that he was afraid. His brother had died in the battle, and Machabon had fled to the forest. I promised I would protect him, but I was too deep in my agony to realise one of the orcs was not yet dead. When he tried to yank the arrow out, the orc killed the boy with his sword."
"The orc killed Machabon, not you."
"It could very well have been my blade on the boy's throat. I should have seen that the orc was not dead!"
"No one could have seen it."
"I should have!"
"But you did not because you were shaken up by my feelings."
"How have you endured them for all these centuries?"
"Please, do not ask about that now. What happened after Machabon died?"
"Are we free to leave, or do we still have any obligations?"
"We have to go back to the others. They all are concerned about you, and they need to see that you are fine."
"I am not fine."
"I know, but they need to see you anyway."
"Me? Why? To sneer at me? To pity me?"
"To see that you are strong and do not let this ruin your life. If you let these awful deeds smash you, the enemy wins. Our people need to see your strength and courage. And finally, they need to see us together. To see our love."
"Love is no more. I am the rotten egg spoiling the whole dough."
"Love is here all the time. You and I are together, and that is love. There is love, no matter what has happened or what we feel, but only if we live through it together. Will you let me be here with you?"
Let the forest unchain your soul. Just take my hand and let the forest air breeze into your soul and blow all the dust away. Let it wipe all stains away.
The evergreen shelter of Sulrochil's soul began crumbling when she let the first faint strands of their love align with him. The needles safeguarding her soul dropped to the ground one by one, and Sulrochil nodded slightly. It was enough for Legolas to lean his face on her hair. Softly, he snuggled his nose behind her ear.
Sultithen, I do not know the shape of the lock, nor the key. I need to form the key with my fingers, but I do not know how. But do know this: I shall acquire the required skill for you. No matter how long it takes, I shall create the key with my fingers.
The spruce sheltering Sulrochil's soul got stronger, making Legolas flinch when the needles stung his flesh - making him too aware of her disgrace. But facing all their wounds would have to wait until they had made their appearance in front of the army.
"You can tell me more later," Legolas said, moving his nose along her collar. "If you want to reveal those things to me."
"I will tell you about it when we are somewhere so deep in the forest that thousands of trees are between every other living soul in this world and us."
"Alright," Legolas said. "Thank you for letting me be here. Thank you for not fleeing from me in the first place and staying under this tree. You wanted me to join you here, even if the words parting from your lips told me otherwise at first. Let us go now so we can get it over with as soon as possible."
"Can you carry my soul?" Sulrochil whispered. "I am not certain if I can survive without you."
"I can do it if you let me through the evergreens surrounding your soul."
The dark branches around her innermost core moved a little so Legolas could peek into her heart through tiny gaps.
An enormous pyre had been erected in a desert. Sulrochil's legs and arms were clamped to the wood beneath her, and the remnants of her dignity were burning into ashes.
United with the sword of screeching dishonour. Her legs parted with a horrid cry, forever bound to shame. In the wrecks of indignity, she had been left.
I'm the wasted land, I'm the spilt milk. Nothing can erase the smudges on my soul.
"No!" Legolas whispered, and his hands shied away from her body.
"I understand," Sulrochil said in a quiet voice, "I am not worthy of you anymore, and you want to discard me now." She lifted her head and made a movement to leave. I am not an elf anymore. The quiver strap is split, and with it, my dignity. It was only a dirty lie of life that I got free. I would have deserved their every deed because of the bad seed in my core.
"What are you talking about?!" Legolas exclaimed and halted her flight by putting his hand on her shoulder.
"You are offended," Sulrochil stated.
"Aye, I am offended, but because of what they have done to you, not because of you!" Legolas said, lifting his hand on her cheek and softly caressing her with the back of his fingers. "Will you let me give you a kiss now?"
Sulrochil turned her eyes away. "Why?"
The humiliation in her averted look made him grimace. He cupped her chin and gently lifted her face so she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "Because I love you."
"You feel my shame and still want to kiss me?"
"Now more than ever."
"I do not feel worthy of your kiss."
Legolas slid his knuckles down her face and whispered, "I said I want to give you a kiss. Therefore I think you are worthy, and besides, I think after what we have been through, we both desperately need it."
"Then why did you ask in the first place? You could just do it."
"Because I never want to do anything to you without your approval. Doing it without consent is nothing but violence."
"They threatened to do to me… to do…" Sulrochil sobbed and leaned faintly onto Legolas. He slid his hand behind her neck and invited her into his embrace with the tiniest movement of his fingers. When she, at last, did not refuse, he did not wait for any more prompting, but with a swift motion, lifted the weeping elf into his lap. Her tears rained on his neck, making his hair wet when she squeezed her face tightly against him.
"I know their threats," Legolas whispered, kissing her temple. "I felt it all earlier today. They assaulted me as well with their ugly visions."
"I feel humiliated." Sulrochil buried her face closer into his neck to hide from his eyes.
"I know. That was their purpose."
"They touched me."
"But you have not granted your permission to touch you to anyone except me."
"I am despoiled, and you should leave me now."
"Shh…" Legolas pushed his lips on her hair, "I can feel your wounds. Please, let me carry my share of your burdens. I want to help you. Please, look into my soul and see it."
Slowly, Sulrochil lifted her face, and the frightened look in her eyes made Legolas' heart ache even more. Inch by inch, the stinging evergreens surrounding her soul moved away, and when her soul was exposed fully, Legolas saw the tiny, scared creature of Sulrochil's soul.
Love inside her was a wounded fox.
The forest offered peace also for her, but she could not open her heart to accept it. A stained wedding gown hovered around her, and that was the only one she would ever get. She had been married to disgrace and touched by filthy hands. Shame was her husband now.
Love had become a swear word.
Her screams thundered over the mountaintops.
A broken mirror reflects only warped images.
With shaky hands, I try to collect the pieces and make the mirror whole again, but I fail. The mirror stays broken, and its reflection shall remain disfigured. No hand of this world can make it sound again.
The humiliation slew the beauty of the world. Legolas faltered across every battle he had ever fought and lost every single time. His staggering soul wobbled through all the wars of his lifetime. At each step, he was forced to watch the sword of filth sliding to and fro in Sulrochil's core.
"You should not see this!" Sulrochil hissed.
"We can let this tear us apart," Legolas whispered and cradled her softly in his arms. "Or we can stay together and face it no matter what."
"I do not want to pull you into the dirt with me."
"You are not pulling me," he said. "But we have been hurled here together. If we have each other's back, we can defeat it."
"You cannot know beforehand if that is true."
"No, but if we do not try, we shall never know." Legolas offered his hand and his heart to Sulrochil. Stay with me.
To deny his plea was not a choice.
To accept it, though, was terrifying.
The red vixen stopped in a snowy forest. Her snout trembled as she gazed at her mate between whitened spruces. Her tail made a few cautious brushes in the air.
The dog fox stood on a snowy cliff. His eyes were fixed on the North Star, and he knew there was nothing he could do but wait.
But he had time.
A shooting star darted across the night sky. The vixen took a couple of steps closer to him. Her tail swished, and suddenly the vast blackness was flaming with green fires. Under the blazing sky, two wounded souls found each other again.
Two dotty trails appeared in the snow side by side. Into the shelter of the wilderness, they were heading.
Sulrochil gave no signs of shying away anymore, and Legolas could gently pull her back into his heart. "I almost lost you again," Legolas said in a thick voice, squeezing his face tightly against hers.
"I am here. "Sulrochil draped her arms around him and tucked her hands under his hair. "But you are wounded too, and I can feel the downpour of your tears in your soul. You can cry."
"There is no time to cry." His words were almost inaudible against Sulrochil's chin. "We must go."
For a long time, they stayed under the evergreen shelter, clutching each other. Gently, Sulrochil pressed her nose against his cheek and whispered, "But you will lose yourself and me as well if you refuse to open up. You said just a moment ago that we have to stick together to defeat our demons."
"Please, not now," Legolas said, stroking her back. "This is not the time."
"You cannot cry," she whispered to his ear, "because you think you should heal all your wounds by yourself before showing them to me, but it does not work that way."
"Perhaps I have wounds," he said, and moved his head further from her so he could look into her eyes. "Aye, there truly exist wounds inside my soul, but can't you see where I am coming from right now? I have watched you almost drown in the sea of the spooks. I got you out of there, and that is wonderful, but my own wounds are far away right now. There are some, yes, but in comparison to what you have experienced, mine are-"
"That is a lie!" she hissed. "I was assaulted, and that means you were assaulted too!"
"Perhaps, but-"
"You are as troubled as I am, even if you refuse to admit it!" she exclaimed. "We can heal only if we drop all our shields and let everything come out!"
Abruptly, Legolas withdrew from the embrace and stormed out. "We are leaving."
The lowerest tree branches snapped as he surged away. Sulrochil was left gathering the scattered weapons lying here and there under the tree, and when she crawled out after him, the bright sunlight did not seem to fit the scene.
Legolas had turned his back to her and glared into the distance.
Sulrochil brushed fallen needles away from her shoulders while she was squinting at Legolas. He had shut the gates of his soul. A huge padlock had been fastened to keep intruders out.
A couple of needles had fallen onto his hair as well. Sulrochil almost lifted her hand to brush them off, but her hand was too heavy for that. From the corner of her eye, she saw him doing it himself. When his hands brushed the needles off, he seemed to brush his distress away. She had to lift her eyes properly to him to see the change in his posture - there were almost no signs left of his pain on his face anymore when he turned to look at her again.
"How did you do that?" she asked faintly.
"I just did, does it matter how?" was his terse reply, and the tone made her aware of what she already felt - the change he had made was only of his body, not of his soul.
"No, it really does not matter," she whispered, forcing herself to remove one needle from his sleeve. If only it would be that easy to take away the agony from his soul.
With his left hand, Legolas grabbed Sulrochil's borrowed quiver from the ground and thrust it against her chest, but she would not have it. "I will not carry these weapons."
"You have to," Legolas said, pressing the quiver tighter against Sulrochil. When she refused to take hold of it, he stepped closer to her with it and picked a couple of needles from her hair.
"Why?" Sulrochil replied quietly when he began draping the quiver around her body.
"Do you not feel the weight of our responsibility on your shoulders?" he whispered close to her face, arranging the quiver on her back. Its embellishments seemed glaringly wrong, yet the most disagreeable thing was the metal buckle, glinting horribly in sunlight. She was not supposed to wear anything made of metal.
"No," she sighed, almost letting herself enjoy his hands wandering on her body, but all her delight was clouded with the filth still lingering in the woods.
"We have obligations."
"We always have obligations. There is a never-ending stream of responsibilities lurking behind every tree!"
"And we always do what is expected of us, and right now we need to show strength."
"Strength!" she yelled. "Always strength! Why?! You are avoiding the truth here and bottling everything up! Are you never going to talk to me about your pain?!"
"This is not the time to talk!"
"There is no need to go to the others! You are just taking it upon yourself even when no one is asking you to! We have responsibilities to each other too, and now we should run as far away from the other people as possible!"
"We cannot do that, and you know it! Do you have any sense of duty? They need to see that we are fine!"
"But we are not fine! How can we show any kind of affection if you withdraw from me?!"
"You always think only about yourself! You claim to be the master of feelings, but every single time you fail to understand what I feel!"
"You are afraid of facing your innermost pain. You are such a wimp!"
"That was lame!" Legolas shouted and clenched his fists. "Are you proud now to figure out such a clever word? Go on! Insult me more! Swing your claws into my skin just when we are about to go to the others!" He took a couple of strides towards Sulrochil, and loomed above her. "Bite me with your fangs and make me bleed inside when everyone is watching us out there!"
Sulrochil stood still and bit her lip. She lifted her jaw and weighed if she should continue buggering him, but he was already at his wit's end.
Legolas bent his neck to hiss into her ear. "Do you need me to provide you with more options for name-calling?"
All sorts of remarks rotated on Sulrochil's tongue, but she would not win this war with them. For a while, they stood scowling at each other until finally, Sulrochil averted her eyes and, with her lips, made the smallest gesture of giving up.
Closing his eyes, Legolas inhaled deeply. A few times, he opened and closed his fists and stared at them as if he was not sure why he had clenched them in the first place.
"I did it again," Sulrochil said, not looking at him, and scraped the soil with her toes. "I am sorry."
"We shall do it again and again forever," he said and briefly brushed her shoulder. "Perhaps even three eternities, if you will."
A lopsided grin flashed on Sulrochil's face. Suddenly, the sun was not overly bright anymore. Its beams warmed up their souls just the right amount.
Legolas raised his hands on Sulrochil's neck and slowly let them begin to search the familiar spots on her skin again. While his palms were wandering down her body, the words started dripping out of his mouth, "Some people say love is a choice, but I disagree. It is a state of being. If it was a choice, you and I would choose otherwise at least a thousand times a day. Were love a choice, I would be down there finishing the war with others, and you would be bawling under that tree. But here we are, together, driving each other around the bend."
With his thumbs, Legolas traced Sulrochil's ears. He slid his palms down her sides and, all of a sudden, squeezed her body firmly against his, "You are the flint; I am the steel. Inevitably, the sparks always fly when we hit each other. Oh, you are such a nuisance, but love is a road with no turning back. You irritate me, you annoy me, and every waking moment you get under my skin, so, in conclusion, did you know you are everything I ever wanted?"
Sulrochil nodded, and a wide smile lit up her face. "Every waking moment? You forgot to mention what I do to you every sleeping moment."
"Shut up," Legolas said and prodded his forefinger on Sulrochil's chest. "I will talk to you when I am ready, and you can sulk all the way home if you want. But before hitting the road, there is a whole army full of our soldiers that need us to be their victorious leaders."
"I do not have it in me to be strong or victorious."
"Me neither," he revealed, sliding his knuckles down her chest. "But that is what is expected of us now and that we are about to give them. That and our love." He tightened the straps of Sulrochil's quiver so it would fit her. "They need us to stand beside Father and for our love to glow upon our people."
"I do not feel love," Sulrochil said.
"Feeling love is not required. Now grab the knife," Legolas replied and waved his hand towards the weapon on the ground. "You are here, and I am here. That is enough."
Sulrochil did not take any action towards the weapons, so Legolas took the knife and fastened it on Sulrochil.
"You do not feel love either," Sulrochil said. "Are you ashamed of me?"
"Love is a commitment," Legolas whispered, tracing Sulrochil's face. "Love is determination, a statement. The borrowed bow you shall carry today is over there. Only together can we get through this." He let his hands move down her arms and nodded towards the bow. "Get moving and grab it. Love is not only soaring across the wide sky. Sometimes, it is almost drowning in the sea, but if we stick together, we may get up to the surface."
"You can show strength and fake love, and, oh, feel free to hide all your feelings in front of them, but please do not ask it from me!"
"Usually, I would not ask you to do it. Your feelings are above my comprehension, and I would not ask you to do against what you feel is right, but-" he said, adjusting Sulrochil's knife to a better position and stopped looking directly at her eyes, leaving his hands on her hips.
"I have to show strength for your sake," she whispered and tilted her head in realisation, "This time, you cannot be as strong as you would like. You cannot carry my soul as you would like because your soul is as disturbed as mine. Mellegolasdaer, I will gather the remnants of strength and love that is still lingering in this forest - for you. I will straighten my posture and keep my head up - for you. Today, I will be as strong as you need me to be."
"Finally, you got it."
"We should lean our souls against each other. Please, back me up, and I will do the same for you."
Legolas did not answer, so Sulrochil silently added, You do not need to admit you need my help, but you do. Whenever you are ready, you can let me see through your defences.
Two maimed souls began limping their way to meet the King of the Forest, supporting each other with all the strength they had left. With each step closer to the battlefield, the souls leaned on each other more - and with each stride, they wiped every outward sign of their turmoil.
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading my story! It means a lot to me to see there are so many readers and follows/favs. Thank you! This story is nearing its end, there will be only a couple of chapters after this. I'm working on the next chapter, but it's not ready yet and I feel I need a Christmas break. This has been an exhausting year. Make it two years - Covid has made the world a very strange place. I hope you and your loved ones are safe and well! My family and I have been quite safe here in the backwoods of Finland, but I'm tired. Hopefully, in January I can post the next chapter. In the meanwhile, please, leave a comment.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!