A/N: Ouch! Sorry about the spelling mistakes earlier...I uploaded the wrong file. Here's a better version. A short little vignette before The Care of Trees. This is Legolas' POV. I suppose this is more in book canon than anything else. Review!
Whispers of Leaves
What is it to love a mortal and know that your love will be the bane of both your worlds? Legends of my people tell of the cursed and blessed, all who have loved those with finite lives only to have met unhappy endings. Who am I to dance with the devil as it were? Even Aragon chose to tempt fate with his love for Arwen, causing her to forfeit her immortal life to be with him.
This journey of the fellowship has changed the prince of Mirkwood, I can only wonder if this was what my father truly envisioned when he sent me on this quest. One thing remains certain, in the long journey I have changed.
Moria was unlike anything I had ever seen, or imagined. In truth, such visions did not even occur in my most horrific nightmares. The stench of death permeating the halls that once housed great kings and people. In that dark I could not even recall the green of trees to comfort me.
On one of the many hours upon watch that I was forced to endure, paying
attention to the
soft slithering of the gollum lurking in the darkness, Gimli sat beside
me offering one of the last apples we had left. "Hungry?"
"Perhaps the little Pippin would appreciate it more than I would." I rejected the shining gleam of red in his hand only to have him place it in mine.
"Master Pippin is asleep and has a store hidden away in his packs. A little sweetness in the darkness to last until we reach daylight."
I peered at him to see if he had meant anything more by the comment but his face was expressionless as usual. Sliding a knife out of my boot, I sliced the apple in half and handed him a section. The other I bit in to, relishing the taste nostalgic of a world far gone from the one we were in.
"This was once a great city, rivaled by none in the world of dwarves." Gimli commented, gesturing to the darkened archways. "There was no death to be found here despite the ones achieved in battle or old age. We thought we were above the men who dwelled above us, laughing at their stupidity while they fought over grass and cows. Who would wish to rule the soil when we had claim to the riches of the deep?"
I made no comment, it was if he wanted to show me a better time than the one that was portrayed before us. In truth, I could not see the splendor hidden in the blackness no matter how much I tried.
"It is there." Gimli reassured me as if he had seen into my thoughts. I hadn't thought that my face had betrayed any emotion, perhaps being this far gone from my family had started to affect me.
"I wonder at what my father and your father would say to see us talking." I remarked, thinking of my father's righteous anger the last time he spoke with dwarves.
"Here we sit, in the company of four hobbits, two men and a sorcerer. I doubt that us talking would be the first of their questions for us." A smile tugged at Gimli's lips, and I was pleased to find the sight appealing. The small gesture made the creases around his eyes deepen and I found myself chuckling in return.
"True enough master dwarf. Tell me of the wonders in your world, tell me of the things that I cannot see with my own eyes."
For the rest of the night, the dwarf drew an elaborate portrait of beauty and majesty that lingered in the depths of these forgotten halls. I could imagine the siren's call that must of beckoned to Balin and his company. It would be like Lothlorien laying alone, uninhabited, and undisturbed by the world for centuries. What fellow elf would refuse a chance to go to Galadriel's wood, even if it was lost to the foulest of creatures?
It was only when his voice grew hoarse did Gimli set aside the stories. He ushered me to my roll with a care I haven't before associated with his kind. "Sleep." he told me. "Perhaps in your dreams you will see the beauty of your home and a little of mine."
Strange, my father would say if he could see me now. Tucked into bed like a child who has stayed up too late. How strange, that a journey to bear information has turned into this, an adventure to save all of Middle Earth. I can feel him looking at me, there is no awe in his gaze like the others. To be seen as nothing more and nothing less than the whole of what I am. Not even my father has been able to do thusly. To him, I have been the prince of Mirkwood, not an elf but a list of duties that are relegated to my personage. Even with Gandalf, a man who sees all, I am nothing more than a segment of a bigger, grander picture. And yet, under the watchful gaze of the enemy of my family, I can sleep with the whisper of leaves in my ears.