~*~* A/N: Chapter Six is here! *grin* *~*~
"Today we will reach Redhorn," said Strider, looking at the mountains that loomed above them. They pushed on through the rest of the day, beginning the climb. Loriana was beginning to master the art of horseback, and Veerle was sharing her horse with Boromir, who was not accustomed to riding without saddle, but got used to it quickly.
That night, they found a place guarded by trees to camp. Legolas sat by the fire, staring at a point within it. Veerle watched him from several feet away, and turned to Boromir.
"I cannot stand to hurt him," she said, looking up at the young man.
"I don't like to see him in pain, either. Perhaps I should talk to him."
"No, that would do no good," she said wisely, and sighed.
"Maybe I shouldn't love you," Boromir said after a moment, and looked away. Veerle's eyes widened.
"Nae, my love," she said, reaching up and caressing his cheek. "I wish not to hurt my brother, but my need to love you is stronger than my will not to. I will ask someone to speak with him for me. Perchance she can make him see."
"Wow.. You and Boromir did that?" asked Loriana, a small smirk playing on her soft lips.
"That is not why I came to you," replied Veerle, sighing. "Legolas, he saw us in a most precarious position, and he is quite hurt, and angry."
"Why are you telling me this?" asked Loriana, her brow furrowing.
"I would like if you would talk to him for me - for us," said Veerle, looking at Loriana pleadingly. "Please?"
Loriana shook her head, "Nae, I will not become involved in this."
"I know you are hesitant, but please, Loriana. Legolas is so hurt right now, if not for us then do this for him."
Loriana grumbled, and then finally nodded. "I'll speak with him tomorrow night, for it is late and I tire from the journey."
Veerle smiled. "Thank you, fair warrior Loriana."
"Kind words will get you nothing else from me, Veerle," Loriana smirked once more.
Loriana lay down in a grassy patch, gazing up at the stars. About her, men and elves spoke quietly or slept, but she could not get any rest. She instead inspected the heavens, in thought.
"I am going into war," she thought, "but I feel as if I've fought already. I fight with myself everyday, to stop myself from submitting to his icy stare, his golden radiance. I cannot love, it is written; Aragorn thinks I have not seen the prophecy, and he is true; but I've heard tell of it, from my father. If I am the one that prophecy speaks of, then I shall die without ever having love, without experiencing anything that Veerle or Boromir have. Truly it is sad, for I do not want to die so young, so alone."
Boromir sighed, throwing a stone into the fire. It crackled, shooting a spark to the sand by his foot. He mumbled something inaudible, and bent to pick up another stone.
"Something troubles you," observed Aragorn, looking up from his place several feet away.
"Indeed," replied Boromir.
"Do you wish to speak about it?"
"It's Veerle."
"Ah.. Yes, I'd heard the news of you and she. I was rather curious, to be honest."
"She thinks I don't love her."
Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "But you do."
"More than anything," replied Boromir, sighing and casting a stone into the fire.
"Why don't you tell her?"
Boromir shrugged, and stood. "She is amazing. Mark my words, Strider - if you ever get the opportunity to love an elf.. Take it." Aragorn smiled softly, and nodded.
"I may."
"I shall talk to her," Boromir said softly, his eyes fixed upon the flame. "And I shall tell her precisely what it is I feel."
The next morning, they awoke, and began the climb. Although it was barely autumn, the mountain was already thick with snow, up to many of the men's knees. For Loriana, it was especially difficult; being a human girl, she was shorter than the rest by several inches, and the snow reached the middle of her thigh. Still, she drove on, complaining not once, even when she could no longer feel her toes. At long last, they reached the zenith of the mountain, and started the climb down.
Loriana grumbled, warming her toes with her hands when the company stopped for a short rest. Strider smiled, and shook his head.
"Cold?" he asked, eyes twinkling with laughter. She glared daggers back, and straightened.
"Let us go quickly, I'd like to reach the bottom before nightfall," she said, starting to walk down the mountain. The rest followed her.
They barely reached the bottom by the time the sun's last rays vanished into the horizon. Loriana sat beside the fire, eating an apple thoughtfully. She was startled by the voice behind her.
"Does something bother you?" he asked, placing a slender hand upon her shoulder.
"No. I could ask the same of you," she responded, and stood. "Let us go speak in private." She led him several feet away, underneath a large tree.
"I know it isn't my place to say anything-" she started, but Legolas cut her off.
"You're right, it is not. However, I know Veerle would have you speak to me, and I will try to listen."
She cleared her throat, and nodded. "It's just, you are so hurt and angry, both Veerle and Boromir worry for you."
"And you?" he asked, catching her eyes, his own dark, as if a shadow had befallen them. "Do you worry for me?"
She glanced away, shrugging slightly. "I worry for all of our company."
"That is not what I mean, and you know it."
"Legolas, I wish not to talk about this. I asked to speak with you, so that I might talk about Veerle and Boromir." Legolas turned his back on her, but did not move away.
"I am not angry with her," he said softly, looking down. "I am jealous of her, and jealousy is not a trait one of my race should have."
Loriana, against her best judgment, reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. He sighed softly, and turned to her. She could see tears beginning to form in his eyes, now a soft grey color.
"Oh Legolas," she said gently, as he fell, kneeling before her and holding her tightly. His body shuddered with tears, a display of emotions so powerful and immense that only an elf could have. She closed her eyes, feeling the strong urge to cry herself. After several long moments, he stood. She reached up, wiping the tears from his cheeks.
"If things were different-" started Legolas, but Loriana placed a finger over his lips.
"Don't, Legolas. You will only cause yourself to wish them so." He swallowed back more tears, and nodded. Loriana sighed, glancing down, then took his hand in hers. Giving it a soft squeeze, she looked into his eyes.
"Do not despair," she said softly, her eyes going past his barriers and into his soul, "For, even though I am destined not to find love, you do not share my fate. One day, Legolas, you will love another, and will be able to have her."
Then, she dropped his hand. He took a deep breath, and turned, leaving her by the tree alone.
Always alone.
"Today we will reach Redhorn," said Strider, looking at the mountains that loomed above them. They pushed on through the rest of the day, beginning the climb. Loriana was beginning to master the art of horseback, and Veerle was sharing her horse with Boromir, who was not accustomed to riding without saddle, but got used to it quickly.
That night, they found a place guarded by trees to camp. Legolas sat by the fire, staring at a point within it. Veerle watched him from several feet away, and turned to Boromir.
"I cannot stand to hurt him," she said, looking up at the young man.
"I don't like to see him in pain, either. Perhaps I should talk to him."
"No, that would do no good," she said wisely, and sighed.
"Maybe I shouldn't love you," Boromir said after a moment, and looked away. Veerle's eyes widened.
"Nae, my love," she said, reaching up and caressing his cheek. "I wish not to hurt my brother, but my need to love you is stronger than my will not to. I will ask someone to speak with him for me. Perchance she can make him see."
"Wow.. You and Boromir did that?" asked Loriana, a small smirk playing on her soft lips.
"That is not why I came to you," replied Veerle, sighing. "Legolas, he saw us in a most precarious position, and he is quite hurt, and angry."
"Why are you telling me this?" asked Loriana, her brow furrowing.
"I would like if you would talk to him for me - for us," said Veerle, looking at Loriana pleadingly. "Please?"
Loriana shook her head, "Nae, I will not become involved in this."
"I know you are hesitant, but please, Loriana. Legolas is so hurt right now, if not for us then do this for him."
Loriana grumbled, and then finally nodded. "I'll speak with him tomorrow night, for it is late and I tire from the journey."
Veerle smiled. "Thank you, fair warrior Loriana."
"Kind words will get you nothing else from me, Veerle," Loriana smirked once more.
Loriana lay down in a grassy patch, gazing up at the stars. About her, men and elves spoke quietly or slept, but she could not get any rest. She instead inspected the heavens, in thought.
"I am going into war," she thought, "but I feel as if I've fought already. I fight with myself everyday, to stop myself from submitting to his icy stare, his golden radiance. I cannot love, it is written; Aragorn thinks I have not seen the prophecy, and he is true; but I've heard tell of it, from my father. If I am the one that prophecy speaks of, then I shall die without ever having love, without experiencing anything that Veerle or Boromir have. Truly it is sad, for I do not want to die so young, so alone."
Boromir sighed, throwing a stone into the fire. It crackled, shooting a spark to the sand by his foot. He mumbled something inaudible, and bent to pick up another stone.
"Something troubles you," observed Aragorn, looking up from his place several feet away.
"Indeed," replied Boromir.
"Do you wish to speak about it?"
"It's Veerle."
"Ah.. Yes, I'd heard the news of you and she. I was rather curious, to be honest."
"She thinks I don't love her."
Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "But you do."
"More than anything," replied Boromir, sighing and casting a stone into the fire.
"Why don't you tell her?"
Boromir shrugged, and stood. "She is amazing. Mark my words, Strider - if you ever get the opportunity to love an elf.. Take it." Aragorn smiled softly, and nodded.
"I may."
"I shall talk to her," Boromir said softly, his eyes fixed upon the flame. "And I shall tell her precisely what it is I feel."
The next morning, they awoke, and began the climb. Although it was barely autumn, the mountain was already thick with snow, up to many of the men's knees. For Loriana, it was especially difficult; being a human girl, she was shorter than the rest by several inches, and the snow reached the middle of her thigh. Still, she drove on, complaining not once, even when she could no longer feel her toes. At long last, they reached the zenith of the mountain, and started the climb down.
Loriana grumbled, warming her toes with her hands when the company stopped for a short rest. Strider smiled, and shook his head.
"Cold?" he asked, eyes twinkling with laughter. She glared daggers back, and straightened.
"Let us go quickly, I'd like to reach the bottom before nightfall," she said, starting to walk down the mountain. The rest followed her.
They barely reached the bottom by the time the sun's last rays vanished into the horizon. Loriana sat beside the fire, eating an apple thoughtfully. She was startled by the voice behind her.
"Does something bother you?" he asked, placing a slender hand upon her shoulder.
"No. I could ask the same of you," she responded, and stood. "Let us go speak in private." She led him several feet away, underneath a large tree.
"I know it isn't my place to say anything-" she started, but Legolas cut her off.
"You're right, it is not. However, I know Veerle would have you speak to me, and I will try to listen."
She cleared her throat, and nodded. "It's just, you are so hurt and angry, both Veerle and Boromir worry for you."
"And you?" he asked, catching her eyes, his own dark, as if a shadow had befallen them. "Do you worry for me?"
She glanced away, shrugging slightly. "I worry for all of our company."
"That is not what I mean, and you know it."
"Legolas, I wish not to talk about this. I asked to speak with you, so that I might talk about Veerle and Boromir." Legolas turned his back on her, but did not move away.
"I am not angry with her," he said softly, looking down. "I am jealous of her, and jealousy is not a trait one of my race should have."
Loriana, against her best judgment, reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. He sighed softly, and turned to her. She could see tears beginning to form in his eyes, now a soft grey color.
"Oh Legolas," she said gently, as he fell, kneeling before her and holding her tightly. His body shuddered with tears, a display of emotions so powerful and immense that only an elf could have. She closed her eyes, feeling the strong urge to cry herself. After several long moments, he stood. She reached up, wiping the tears from his cheeks.
"If things were different-" started Legolas, but Loriana placed a finger over his lips.
"Don't, Legolas. You will only cause yourself to wish them so." He swallowed back more tears, and nodded. Loriana sighed, glancing down, then took his hand in hers. Giving it a soft squeeze, she looked into his eyes.
"Do not despair," she said softly, her eyes going past his barriers and into his soul, "For, even though I am destined not to find love, you do not share my fate. One day, Legolas, you will love another, and will be able to have her."
Then, she dropped his hand. He took a deep breath, and turned, leaving her by the tree alone.
Always alone.
