Note: Unknown characters belong to me! Elvish speech is in ' '! Shounen ai
between L/A! Legolas's POV! Violence! This story is a little lemony in the
beginning…
Surviving Pity
Part 10
A.J. Matthews
I opened my emerald eyes slowly and saw a very peculiar sight.
Aragorn was gazing down at me, and I slowly began to realize that I was draped face-first across his lap, with my arms wound around his neck.
"Aragorn?" I whispered softly.
"Yes, Legolas?" My lover's warm breath against my lips sent desire running through me.
"How did this happen?" For the first time in years, a faint blush was on my face.
Aragorn chuckled softly, before he looked at me seriously. "You had a nightmare, my love," he told me quietly.
"Oh." I glanced around the room and was relieved to see that no one else was there. "I could have sworn I heard someone speaking to you," I murmured, slightly confused. Now I could see that we were both sitting in a wooden chair. Technically, Aragorn was sitting in the chair, and I was sitting on him.
"No-one's here now," Aragorn said huskily, as his lips covered mine.
I responded hard, crushing his lips against mine. Aragorn's hands moved from my back up to cup my face. My own hands brushed through Aragorn's dark hair, combing it with my fingers.
Aragorn gently lifted me in his arms, as he stood. I whimpered as his lips left mine, which caused him to laugh quietly. He placed me in the bed, and covered my body with his own, as he kissed me once more.
I couldn't hold a moan in as his hands began to work on my belt. I was in the middle of removing his shirt and had it halfway over his head when…
A knock at the door startled us both.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"Frodo," a muffled voice answered.
Aragorn and I exchanged a disgruntled glance.
"Please, can I talk to you?" Frodo asked.
"Um, just a minute," Aragorn said. He pulled himself off me, and began fixing his shirt.
I sat up quickly, and refastened my belt. I could do nothing about the flush on my face, nor about how swollen my lips were from Aragorn's kisses. At least his lips were swollen as well.
"Come in," I said, as I stood. I grabbed the shirt and tunic that Aragorn had removed from me before I had fallen asleep earlier.
I quickly put them on and sat down once more. I looked at the Hobbit as he entered quietly.
I frowned slightly, for I could see that he was greatly distressed. Pain was written on his face, and sorrow shone in his eyes as they met mine.
"What is wrong, Frodo?" I asked, concerned. I stood and walked over to him.
"I just- I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am," Frodo blurted out.
I was slightly puzzled, but part of me tensed inwardly. I was so focused on the Hobbit that I didn't see my lover stiffen.
I questioned, "Sorry about what?" I peered down at his face.
The anguish on his face spoke volumes to me as I froze.
"You know…" Frodo whispered.
The color started to drain from my face, which went from being flushed to ashen. My hands began to shake slightly, as I clenched them tightly in fists to keep Aragorn and Frodo from seeing how they shook.
"How did you know?" I asked neutrally.
Frodo's eyes flickered to Aragorn, before he looked back at me.
I looked at Aragorn and saw guilt shining in his eyes, before turning back to Frodo.
Behind him in the hallway, I now saw Gimli, Merry, Pippin, and Sam. All of them were pale as they looked at me.
They knew. I could see it in their eyes. Horror, grief, and what I had feared most of all.
Pity. Pity for the elf who couldn't save himself.
I took several slow, deep breaths, trying to control the raging emotions swirling inside of me. Anger, sorrow, betrayal, and… self-loathing
God, Aragorn. I didn't want them to know, I shouted silently.
"You told them," I said, shaking slightly, as I looked at Aragorn. I was breathing hard, and my heart was racing.
"Legolas, I-" I cut Aragorn off.
"You told them!" I repeated, as my trembling grew worse.
He reached towards me, and I stepped back, shaking my head, a million thoughts running through my head.
They knew.
All of them knew how weak I had been.
They knew that I had tried to kill myself.
They knew!
"Stay away from me," I said, pain and anger in my voice. I shook my head, as I tried to calm myself, but I couldn't.
Aragorn had told them everything!
My secrets… my pain… my weakness… my soul… All of it was laid bare for them.
I had not wanted it to be so!
Surely they despised for my weakness. I had not been able to save myself.
"No," I whispered, repeating the word several times as my heartbeat increased.
Aragorn pleaded, "Listen to me, Legolas. I can explain…"
I turned and fled. I ran out of the door, and tore my way through my stricken friends, as I raced through the hallways. Blind instinct served me well, for I was too distraught to focus on what I was doing.
Aragorn cried out my name.
"Come back!" Sam yelled.
I could hear them running after me, as I burst through the castle doors.
I took off through the brush, not caring if I got scraped or cut. Thorns scratched me as I plunged my way through heedlessly. Branches scraped at my face and at the bare skin on my arms, where my shirt didn't quite reach my wrists.
Little rivets of blood seeped out of the gashes as I ran, wanting to escape it.
I ran for as far as I could before I had to stop, gasping for air. I didn't even know this part of Rohan.
I heard them calling for me, but it grew fainter. It was Aragorn's voice, as well as Éomer's. The rest of the Fellowship were not with them, I knew, for I did not hear their voices shouting my name.
Instinctively, I knew I could not remain on the ground. I had no weapons, and should Sarag appear, I would only be able to use my own physical strength against him.
And I did not feel liking talking to either Aragorn or Éomer at this particular point in time.
I saw a tall pine tree, and dashed over to it. I use my Elven agility to leap onto a branch, and then to gracefully jump from one branch to another, until I was sufficiently hidden from view.
Then I sat on the branch I was on.
I felt something on my face as I sat there, feeling raw and exposed. I touched it, and discovered that it was a tear.
I had not cried for over seven years.
Yet I did so now.
Anguished sobs tore out of me, as I buried my face in my hands.
You shouldn't have told them, Aragorn. I didn't want to tell them. I didn't want them to know of the pain I had hidden inside of my heart.
It was not because of the pain of those particular memories that I cried.
It was for the pity I'd seen in their eyes.
I did not wish for pity. It was useless. What had happened had occurred years ago.
Pity could do nothing to change that. Pity had not saved me.
And none of them would ever look at me the same way again. They'd always be thinking of the time when I couldn't save myself.
That hurt terribly.
I had hoped to hide my weakness from sight.
Instead, my lover had bared my soul to them, without even asking me first.
Aragorn must have told them while I was asleep.
I sat there for hours, regaining composure.
Get a hold of yourself, I snapped mentally. You've survived worse… far worse than this.
I was not a victim.
I was a survivor. I had lived through it all.
My five years of healing had not been in vain, for I had learned much from those.
Surviving had been my greatest revenge on Sarag.
But my weakness being exposed to Frodo, Gimli, Merry, Sam, and Pippin hurt worse than all of those endless nights of torture combined.
However, I was a survivor. I would get through this as well, and come out stronger than ever.
At least, that's what I hoped for.
And, in my innermost heart, I hoped that Aragorn would find me.
To be continued
Surviving Pity
Part 10
A.J. Matthews
I opened my emerald eyes slowly and saw a very peculiar sight.
Aragorn was gazing down at me, and I slowly began to realize that I was draped face-first across his lap, with my arms wound around his neck.
"Aragorn?" I whispered softly.
"Yes, Legolas?" My lover's warm breath against my lips sent desire running through me.
"How did this happen?" For the first time in years, a faint blush was on my face.
Aragorn chuckled softly, before he looked at me seriously. "You had a nightmare, my love," he told me quietly.
"Oh." I glanced around the room and was relieved to see that no one else was there. "I could have sworn I heard someone speaking to you," I murmured, slightly confused. Now I could see that we were both sitting in a wooden chair. Technically, Aragorn was sitting in the chair, and I was sitting on him.
"No-one's here now," Aragorn said huskily, as his lips covered mine.
I responded hard, crushing his lips against mine. Aragorn's hands moved from my back up to cup my face. My own hands brushed through Aragorn's dark hair, combing it with my fingers.
Aragorn gently lifted me in his arms, as he stood. I whimpered as his lips left mine, which caused him to laugh quietly. He placed me in the bed, and covered my body with his own, as he kissed me once more.
I couldn't hold a moan in as his hands began to work on my belt. I was in the middle of removing his shirt and had it halfway over his head when…
A knock at the door startled us both.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"Frodo," a muffled voice answered.
Aragorn and I exchanged a disgruntled glance.
"Please, can I talk to you?" Frodo asked.
"Um, just a minute," Aragorn said. He pulled himself off me, and began fixing his shirt.
I sat up quickly, and refastened my belt. I could do nothing about the flush on my face, nor about how swollen my lips were from Aragorn's kisses. At least his lips were swollen as well.
"Come in," I said, as I stood. I grabbed the shirt and tunic that Aragorn had removed from me before I had fallen asleep earlier.
I quickly put them on and sat down once more. I looked at the Hobbit as he entered quietly.
I frowned slightly, for I could see that he was greatly distressed. Pain was written on his face, and sorrow shone in his eyes as they met mine.
"What is wrong, Frodo?" I asked, concerned. I stood and walked over to him.
"I just- I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am," Frodo blurted out.
I was slightly puzzled, but part of me tensed inwardly. I was so focused on the Hobbit that I didn't see my lover stiffen.
I questioned, "Sorry about what?" I peered down at his face.
The anguish on his face spoke volumes to me as I froze.
"You know…" Frodo whispered.
The color started to drain from my face, which went from being flushed to ashen. My hands began to shake slightly, as I clenched them tightly in fists to keep Aragorn and Frodo from seeing how they shook.
"How did you know?" I asked neutrally.
Frodo's eyes flickered to Aragorn, before he looked back at me.
I looked at Aragorn and saw guilt shining in his eyes, before turning back to Frodo.
Behind him in the hallway, I now saw Gimli, Merry, Pippin, and Sam. All of them were pale as they looked at me.
They knew. I could see it in their eyes. Horror, grief, and what I had feared most of all.
Pity. Pity for the elf who couldn't save himself.
I took several slow, deep breaths, trying to control the raging emotions swirling inside of me. Anger, sorrow, betrayal, and… self-loathing
God, Aragorn. I didn't want them to know, I shouted silently.
"You told them," I said, shaking slightly, as I looked at Aragorn. I was breathing hard, and my heart was racing.
"Legolas, I-" I cut Aragorn off.
"You told them!" I repeated, as my trembling grew worse.
He reached towards me, and I stepped back, shaking my head, a million thoughts running through my head.
They knew.
All of them knew how weak I had been.
They knew that I had tried to kill myself.
They knew!
"Stay away from me," I said, pain and anger in my voice. I shook my head, as I tried to calm myself, but I couldn't.
Aragorn had told them everything!
My secrets… my pain… my weakness… my soul… All of it was laid bare for them.
I had not wanted it to be so!
Surely they despised for my weakness. I had not been able to save myself.
"No," I whispered, repeating the word several times as my heartbeat increased.
Aragorn pleaded, "Listen to me, Legolas. I can explain…"
I turned and fled. I ran out of the door, and tore my way through my stricken friends, as I raced through the hallways. Blind instinct served me well, for I was too distraught to focus on what I was doing.
Aragorn cried out my name.
"Come back!" Sam yelled.
I could hear them running after me, as I burst through the castle doors.
I took off through the brush, not caring if I got scraped or cut. Thorns scratched me as I plunged my way through heedlessly. Branches scraped at my face and at the bare skin on my arms, where my shirt didn't quite reach my wrists.
Little rivets of blood seeped out of the gashes as I ran, wanting to escape it.
I ran for as far as I could before I had to stop, gasping for air. I didn't even know this part of Rohan.
I heard them calling for me, but it grew fainter. It was Aragorn's voice, as well as Éomer's. The rest of the Fellowship were not with them, I knew, for I did not hear their voices shouting my name.
Instinctively, I knew I could not remain on the ground. I had no weapons, and should Sarag appear, I would only be able to use my own physical strength against him.
And I did not feel liking talking to either Aragorn or Éomer at this particular point in time.
I saw a tall pine tree, and dashed over to it. I use my Elven agility to leap onto a branch, and then to gracefully jump from one branch to another, until I was sufficiently hidden from view.
Then I sat on the branch I was on.
I felt something on my face as I sat there, feeling raw and exposed. I touched it, and discovered that it was a tear.
I had not cried for over seven years.
Yet I did so now.
Anguished sobs tore out of me, as I buried my face in my hands.
You shouldn't have told them, Aragorn. I didn't want to tell them. I didn't want them to know of the pain I had hidden inside of my heart.
It was not because of the pain of those particular memories that I cried.
It was for the pity I'd seen in their eyes.
I did not wish for pity. It was useless. What had happened had occurred years ago.
Pity could do nothing to change that. Pity had not saved me.
And none of them would ever look at me the same way again. They'd always be thinking of the time when I couldn't save myself.
That hurt terribly.
I had hoped to hide my weakness from sight.
Instead, my lover had bared my soul to them, without even asking me first.
Aragorn must have told them while I was asleep.
I sat there for hours, regaining composure.
Get a hold of yourself, I snapped mentally. You've survived worse… far worse than this.
I was not a victim.
I was a survivor. I had lived through it all.
My five years of healing had not been in vain, for I had learned much from those.
Surviving had been my greatest revenge on Sarag.
But my weakness being exposed to Frodo, Gimli, Merry, Sam, and Pippin hurt worse than all of those endless nights of torture combined.
However, I was a survivor. I would get through this as well, and come out stronger than ever.
At least, that's what I hoped for.
And, in my innermost heart, I hoped that Aragorn would find me.
To be continued
