"Drowning in Amber"
by s1ncer1ty

Notes: Still no slash, unless that's how you wish to interpret it. Somewhat suggestive (mmm, nekkid Elves...) and somewhat angsty. Still from Pippin's weird, Tookish perspective.

Musical Inspiration: "All I Want" by Toad the Wet Sprocket. Primarily the first two lines quoted below, to describe Legolas.

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Chapter: 2/3

~*~ Nienaite : Legolas : Lothlorien ~*~

"Nothing's so loud as hearing when we lie.
Truth is not kind, and you've said neither am I."
~ Toad the Wet Sprocket

A river runs through the centre of the wood, and I've stripped to nothing in Lorien, finding solace and solitude beneath the waterfall. I make no effort to shield the torrent of frigid water from my face, and it flows through my eyes and down my cheeks like a never-ending spill of tears. Silently, I can do no more than let the flood wash over me, feel it beating upon my head until it becomes less soothing and more torture. I cannot control the shivers that seize my back and prickle the hair on the backs on my arms and the tops of my feet.

As I sit shuddering, a sliver of light breaks through the clearing, taking shape in the lithe form of Legolas the Elf. Eyes like twin beads of cobalt reflect the brilliant light of day as they fixate upon my solitary form beneath the waterfall. He speaks not a word to me, but disrobes to fully bare, shimmering white skin and immolates himself in the depths of the river. The glory of the Elf's long form reaches me for but a second before I snap my gaze away to the rocks below, losing myself again in a melancholy world of my own design.

With the thunder of Lorien's waterfall crashing both around and overtop me, I dream of the green grass of the Shire, and of the warm waters of the Brandywine River where Merry and I had spent so much of our youth. I imagine laughter amid the catching of frogs, of leaping from the tallest rocks, of the breathless flush within Merry's cheeks every time he'd won a water battle between us. I dream until I am far, far away from Lothlorien, and far from the ache that continues to fester deep within my heart.

It is not until Legolas speaks my name that I realize he's come to sit beside me. I had not even heard his delicate approach, and as I turn my eyes to the light, I find myself rapt in a humourless face and eyes the colour of hard sapphires.

"Your fever has broken," he states.

"Yes," I whisper, and although I want to so desperately I cannot pull away from his penetrating gaze.

"Why must you do this to yourself, Peregrin?" he asks, voice soft in spite of the cold expression.

"Wh-what do you mean?" I stammer, shivering from the cold spill of water, or from remnants of the fever -- I know not which.

"It is not within a hobbit's nature to wallow in the depths of self-pity," he returns aloofly. "You will tell me what is on your mind."

"I should have heeded Elrond's advice and stayed behind," I mumble reluctantly as water cascades down my lips. "I wish I were back in the Shire. It would have been better that way."

The slender, white face of Legolas breaks into a lofty grin. "I dare say, young hobbit, that it's far too late to return to your Shire now. You have come too far, and the journey back would be wracked with infinitely more peril than that on the way here. You'd not make it to Moria, much less Rivendell -- or your Shire -- if you were to turn back now."

The defensiveness swells within me, yet I find no strength of will to fight it, or to let it rise to the surface. "And perhaps it would be best if I had been done in by the Orcs, or fallen into the abyss behind Gandalf."

"Who is to say, Peregrin? Perhaps, indeed, your Gandalf would still be with the party had you not foolishly pitched that stone into the well."

Beneath the swell of the waterfall, I feel the heat of sudden tears prickling in my eyes and spilling in a mingling flow down my cheeks. "You should have just left me behind after we left Moria. I begged Merry to let me be, but he would hear none of it."

"Then Merry is a kinder person than I would have been, for it dwelled within my thoughts to leave you there upon the rock."

I cannot look at Legolas, cannot face any disapproving expression or a wrinkle of annoyance between his brows. I can only weep weakly and wish that I had the strength to rise to my feet and either leave this place or dash myself beneath the surface of the water, never to surface again. I cover my eyes with a hand, and the spill from the waterfall washes down my forearm. "Why didn't you leave me, then?" I finally manage to whisper.

"Because, Peregrin, we need you." The sudden kindness in his voice startles me from my circle of self-pity, and I blink the welling tears from my eyes.

"What did you say?" I choke out hoarsely, disbelieving.

Legolas shifts his lithe body closer to mine and places a soft hand upon my shoulder. "Indeed, it is in all likelihood that your stone alerted the Orcs to our presence. However, had you not thrown it in, I sense that we would have lost more than but one member of our Fellowship. Worse, the Ring might well have fallen into the hands of our foes."

"I -- I don't understand." I wipe my cheeks with the back of a hand, although I know it is useless beneath the cascade. When I meet his gaze, it is gently serious.

"Gandalf knew full well of the evil that lie buried deep within the core of Moria. I am surprised we weren't set upon sooner by the enemy. If it were not for your stone returning us to full alert, I believe the Orc attack -- which, whether you choose to believe it or not, was inevitable -- would have taken us completely unknowing."

"I wish Gandalf were still with us, stone or no stone. If it were up to me, I would take it all back," I return stubbornly, the fierceness of my grief fading to a dull throb.

"You can never wind back to the past, but can merely look constantly forward, Peregrin," he whispers with the weight of over two thousand years of age upon his back. "For the future, I do hope that you've learned not to act quite so rashly." His gaze, though softer than his earlier admonishment, is still mildly reproachful, and I swallow past a large lump forming in the back of my throat.

"I have, Legolas. Oh, but I have."

His long-fingered Elf-hands lightly grasp the sides of my face with a feather's touch, and he tilts my head up so our gaze meets. For a long while, he holds me fast in a cold, blue stare, his face shielding mine from the spill of the waterfall. After what seems to be an eternity, Legolas releases me, apparently satisfied with whatever he seeks within my eyes. "You are truly sincere, Peregrin. For that I am grateful."

"If only Merry saw it that way. I still don't believe he's forgiven me," I remark, offhandedly, as Legolas pulls away.

The Elf stands and wades towards the shore, barely breaking a ripple within the water. His soft voice carries upon the wind as he walks; nevertheless, I pick my aching body upright and follow swiftly at his heels. "You look, but you do not see. Meriadoc has forgiven you, but he has not forgiven himself."

"Why must he do that? He's done nothing that would require forgiveness," I state, pushing wet clumps of hair from my eyes. "Why didn't he come to me if he were upset?"

Legolas arches an elegant brow, although not unkindly, as he unfolds his clothing. "We've left the black heart of Moria far behind, and yet you preferred to retreat within yourself. Even in the splendour of Lothlorien, you've not yet found peace. How would Merry find the strength to exorcise his own demons if he were forced to bring you from your own gloom?"

"I've not asked him to bring me from my gloom," I murmur as the importance of Legolas' words dawns upon me. "But I believe I understand. Finally."

We dress in silence as the water upon our skin dries quickly in the sun. Although neither of us speaks, the solitude is comforting, and for the first time since I entered Lorien, I truly note the beauty and serenity surrounding me. Though still wounded, the grief seems much less exacting in the regal peace of the Elvish dwelling.

"Peregrin, you must go to him," Legolas finally states after donning his final vestment. He shoulders quiver and his bow, adding, "You've the best chance of reaching him, I would suspect."

"I will go to him," I return as he turns from me and sidles towards the path leading back to camp. My breath catches in my throat as he moves to leave, so many words to him spinning unspoken within my mind. "Legolas! Wait!"

He spins in place to face me, wordlessly questioning. I dash up the worn earth to close the distance between us, and he waits for my legs -– infinitely shorter than his own -– to catch up.

Looking up at him, all that I might have said to him dies fast upon my lips. I swallow and whisper a simple, "Thank you."

A faint smile touches the edges of his lips, and Legolas places a hand upon my shoulder. "Peregrin, thank you," he adds emphatically before returning to his path, leaving me bewildered in his regal wake.

...tbc...