Darkness.
A burning heat spreading strongly through his veins… a light headedness… slight feeling of… euphoria… *
Falling downwards through a spiral of an icy pain, a searing heat flashing against his skin and burning his insides like the fire of an angry Balrog, his treacherous whip springing forward to sink into his delicate flesh, the Man felt sick. Aragorn shriveled against the Forest floor, shaking and coughing up blood violently, throwing Anduril to the side. His body jerked involuntarily, his head feeling as if somebody had crashed it against a stone wall numerous times without a pause. His chest ached something awful, his heart beating against his ribs hard enough, he thought, to break them. Everything was black.
Yet he could see.
Legolas stared down at him like a taskmaster to its animal, cold and unfeeling. Cocking another arrow to his Elven bow, he pulled it back, ready to strike him again. The homicidal grin never left his pale lips, but instead, his eyes narrowed darkly and eyebrows furrowed. 'Kill,' his mind told him. 'Kill him now. He is putting on an act.' The prince pulled it back tighter, ready to release.
Aragorn strained his neck to look up at the blinding glow that stung his eyes. Everything in his cold body ached; nothing was worth living for at this particular moment. And worse of all, Legolas, his love and his own, had fired the deathly, poisoned arrow. Gasping and curling into a cramped position, Aragorn let the effects of the deathshade take place.
The Elven prince released the arrow.
Strider's eyelids snapped open, mouth open to scream, body spasming from the infected arrow that had lodged itself deep into his back. A black liquid spilled across his even darker clothes, mixing with his blood and oozing into the other open wound, stinging Aragorn further into his agony. The Man drew in a sharp intake of breath, gagging and spitting out a the lump of blood in his mouth, at Legolas' feet. Legolas stared down at him, a surge of heat running through his body. His body reacting to a will that was not even his, he lifted his foot and crushed it against Aragorn's head, digging the heel of his shoe into the side of his head. Unsheathing a knife, he bent down and cut off a bloodied lock of hair, then grabbed a matted clump and raised Strider by his hair, throwing him to the base of a tree, stuffing the strands he held into a leather bag. He was about to carry out the means of death when he heard something in his head.
'Leave him, Legolas. Leave him and come to me. I have work for you to do.'
With an unseen power, the Elf of Mirkwood moved his feet against his will and was forced to turn the other way. The last he saw of Aragorn was his shaking body, the poison destroying him slowly but surely, the wounds affecting him in a way that would leave him remembering that night forever. In the back of his mind, he feared that that would be the last he would see of the King of Gondor.
~***~
*Quote taken from the musical 'Jekyll and Hyde'. Dark, twisted, and neat play, recommend it to all you dark people. *g*
A burning heat spreading strongly through his veins… a light headedness… slight feeling of… euphoria… *
Falling downwards through a spiral of an icy pain, a searing heat flashing against his skin and burning his insides like the fire of an angry Balrog, his treacherous whip springing forward to sink into his delicate flesh, the Man felt sick. Aragorn shriveled against the Forest floor, shaking and coughing up blood violently, throwing Anduril to the side. His body jerked involuntarily, his head feeling as if somebody had crashed it against a stone wall numerous times without a pause. His chest ached something awful, his heart beating against his ribs hard enough, he thought, to break them. Everything was black.
Yet he could see.
Legolas stared down at him like a taskmaster to its animal, cold and unfeeling. Cocking another arrow to his Elven bow, he pulled it back, ready to strike him again. The homicidal grin never left his pale lips, but instead, his eyes narrowed darkly and eyebrows furrowed. 'Kill,' his mind told him. 'Kill him now. He is putting on an act.' The prince pulled it back tighter, ready to release.
Aragorn strained his neck to look up at the blinding glow that stung his eyes. Everything in his cold body ached; nothing was worth living for at this particular moment. And worse of all, Legolas, his love and his own, had fired the deathly, poisoned arrow. Gasping and curling into a cramped position, Aragorn let the effects of the deathshade take place.
The Elven prince released the arrow.
Strider's eyelids snapped open, mouth open to scream, body spasming from the infected arrow that had lodged itself deep into his back. A black liquid spilled across his even darker clothes, mixing with his blood and oozing into the other open wound, stinging Aragorn further into his agony. The Man drew in a sharp intake of breath, gagging and spitting out a the lump of blood in his mouth, at Legolas' feet. Legolas stared down at him, a surge of heat running through his body. His body reacting to a will that was not even his, he lifted his foot and crushed it against Aragorn's head, digging the heel of his shoe into the side of his head. Unsheathing a knife, he bent down and cut off a bloodied lock of hair, then grabbed a matted clump and raised Strider by his hair, throwing him to the base of a tree, stuffing the strands he held into a leather bag. He was about to carry out the means of death when he heard something in his head.
'Leave him, Legolas. Leave him and come to me. I have work for you to do.'
With an unseen power, the Elf of Mirkwood moved his feet against his will and was forced to turn the other way. The last he saw of Aragorn was his shaking body, the poison destroying him slowly but surely, the wounds affecting him in a way that would leave him remembering that night forever. In the back of his mind, he feared that that would be the last he would see of the King of Gondor.
~***~
*Quote taken from the musical 'Jekyll and Hyde'. Dark, twisted, and neat play, recommend it to all you dark people. *g*