A/N: May I start out by saying I am SOOOOO sorry to all of you who read my
stories: for "The Pain of Friendship" and "Leagvala". I was going to post
an announcement saying that I would be gone for two months to a wilderness
trip - which goes without saying means I would have no access to a
computer. So, to those of you who are mad at me, you have every right to
be. I didn't update for two months without a word to you. And now I pay -
but please. pretty please?. still review! ;) :P I pumped the rest of this
chapter out as soon as I could (I had started it before I left), so as to
please my reviewers. I hope. Uh, heheh. Well anyway, I hope you like this
installment - and again, please forgive me.
Oh, and don't for get to REVIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWW!!! :D
P.S. ~ If anyone, after reading this chapter, thinks that I made Legolas a crybaby, I would like to set the record straight. The situations I put him in are very trying and I am sure any other person set with same circumstances would be totally bawling rather than letting discreet tears fall and silently weeping. So, anyhoo, ENJOY! :)
Chapter 6
He floated. Alone, lost, and blissfully oblivious to all around him. And he floated, limbs free, mind blank. The silence of the black abyss he was held suspended in was one minor detail his uncomprehending mind came to notice. No sound, no sight, no smell, and there was naught to touch. As though he was all alone in a sea of nothingness. But suddenly, the darkness of the empty abyss began to swallow him, cover him, enclose him within its inky blackness. His eyes snapped open, but they saw naught, for there was naught to see. His before lifeless body began to struggle, arms flailed, legs kicked. He could feel it creeping over him, holding him down encompassing him. The darkness began to seep into him; he could feel it - sense it - begin to attack his soul, sucking away the light of his Thule. The pain. it was unbearable! No! It must not take him, it was trying to rob him of what he held dear as an elf - his light, his soul, his passion, his life.
Legolas screamed. But it was completely swallowed into the darkness, and he could not even hear his own cry. He kept screaming, he could hear it in his mind, the sound of his own agony, his own despair - but it did not meet his ears. Soon his voice faltered, he grew hoarse, though it could not be heard, and he stopped. And he began to weep.
Was this how it was to end? Would he die like this, with his own soul ripped from his body, stolen by the darkness that held the light of his heart and let it dim, then die. And the tears would not stop. But now he knew not he was weeping, he only heard the echoes of his own screams in his mind, and felt the agony of the black about him, tearing him apart - bit by painful bit. This was worse than any orc torture he could possibly fathom. He writhed in the unending pain, the searing agony, and his head hung in defeat, as he let his own remorse and despair wash over him. So much, so many, his loved ones, his home.
Where was his home? Whom did he love? He shook his head, he. he could not remember. He knew there were those he wished to see, one last time. but who! Who cared? There was only darkness now. Only pain, despair, emptiness - there was nothing left for him. Why would he care what was left behind.
And then, something clicked. The darkness, it was familiar. his dream! This was like. like. where was it he had been? What was it he had been doing? His thoughts swirled within his mind, confused, delusional. Suddenly, a sound.
"Legolas?"
Who?
"Legolas? Legolas!"
Who was Legolas?
"Legolas!"
Why did he recognize that name? Who was Legolas? He shook his head again, as if trying to rid himself of this endless uncertainty, this confusion.
"Legolas! Please."
There it was again, faintly, but there. That voice - so pleading, so sincere. Who did it call for? Who was Legolas? Why did he hear it? When he thought he was all alone in this deep private hell, where the inky darkness abounds. Why. who? And then,
". come back to me, Legolas."
Legolas. Legolas. He was Legolas. HE was Legolas! He opened his eyes again, but this time it was not just an abyss of black. There. so far away, but there - a light. Legolas struggled anew, the Elvin endurance and fiery resistance to all that is evil stirred within him. But this time, he had hope. And with hope, came strength. The strength to over come unimaginable odds, and so now, Legolas called upon that strength. And slowly, he freed himself of the darkness that clung so firmly to him. It tried to hold him in place, but he fought it. He could sense its dread as it lost its hold on its prey; he could feel it wail in his mind, and for a moment that stopped him. He was almost free, but the screaming pain inside his head echoed far and deep, and he doubled over, hands pressed firmly against his ears. Trying to block the sound out, but it was in his head, and he screamed, just as he had before, in pitiful agony, in utter despair. And though he could feel his Thule being stripped from him anew, his memory of the light, his memory of being free of this horrible emptiness - fueled him. And with one step, he came closer. The wails of sorrow became louder in his mind, and he screamed again in pain, but he took another step. And with each step, the wailing grew louder, but with each step, it grew further away, and he came closer to his freedom. He was Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil, and he was one of the Fellowship of the Ring, sworn to protect Frodo the ring bearer and all who were of the company. But, he had become lost. how had he become lost? And now his wails joined that of the dark. He was lost in this eternal blackness! He could not see the light, how was he to get out! No!!! But,
"Legolas."
And suddenly, as his pleading, tear stained eyes looked up; penetrating the darkness, he saw again the light. His fair face, lit in a wide smile. Once again, there was hope. Legolas, trudging through the sea of nothingness summoned all his last strength for a last attempt at freedom. This could not go on forever and his endurance was ebbing, slowly failing him. He must escape this silent prison of doom now, or it would never be done. And as he took another step, he mentally wept, screamed, prayed, hoped. then jumped.
The final wails and screeches of dread and despair that echoed in his head abruptly stopped. Legolas opened his eyes. He stood at the edge of a cliff. He could see where the sturdy earth suddenly fell off. He looked down. black. There was only darkness - Legolas shuddered. His eyes traveled to his own feet - wait - his own feet. he could see! The thought sunk in. He had escaped! It was gone, the clinging darkness was gone! He wanted to cry out with joy, but held his tongue, as he still did not know where he had gone. His gaze then wandered to his hands. He held them out in front of himself; they faintly glowed of their own light. His light - he had regained his Thule. he was whole again. Legolas hugged himself, arms wrapped around thin chest, and he fell to his knees upon the hard stone ground. Tears of relief and joy slid from beneath his tightly shut eyes. The utter and complete sorrow he had felt when the darkness had managed to rip his soul and body had been nearly unbearable, he had begged whoever had been listening to let him die. The feeling of total emptiness was unlike anything he had ever felt, for he had always had his light within him to call upon for strength and comfort, and it had been stripped from him. He forced himself not to remember the ordeal. He opened his eyes once again and managed to stagger into a standing position again. He cautiously turned around, and a bleak sight met his eyes. There was only gray walls, shadows of black, once magnificent white pillars and halls. It. it was Moria! Legolas' eyes widened, and his lips parted in a silent gasp - his dream! This was in his dream! He was here again, suspended in his world of dreams. But this time, there was no Frodo, there was no ring, and there was no Gandalf. Only the dim gray stone of the Moria chambers and walls. Legolas' head snapped from side to side, looking for anyone, anything familiar, comforting - anything that could help him. But there was naught. His eyes darkened in defeat and he lowered his head, his shoulders slumped and he wanted to fall to his knees again, for he suddenly had naught the strength to stay standing.
And then, he was on a peaceful beach of white sand and clear aqua seawater. There was a strong breeze that had his long pale blond locks billowing around his face, impairing his vision. He turned his face to the cool breeze and closed his eyes as he let it wash over him. He felt it pulling the light strands of his hair behind him, and it was soothing. The feel of the cool wind brushing his face let his mind relax, thus relaxing his body, and soon, a small smile graced his lips. And then there was the ocean. Legolas started as he suddenly heard the sound of something crashing against the sand. He spun to face the shore, eyes alert, but there was only the clear blue waters, white foam leading the waves, as they hit the shore. He watched, astounded, fascinated, dumbfounded as the waves of churling, bubbling water rolled and pounded against the shore, again and again. Crash after crash as they hit the magnificent white sand. There was an unmistakable rhythm about the endless pattern of waves, a slightly hidden music. But if you listened, you could hear it. The notes of the sea, perfect in their creation, the music of nature. And as Legolas stopped, and listened, his mind was lulled into light Elven dreams. But something else caught his eyes: there were colors! So many colors! As he watched, transfixed, all the colors of nature were reflected from the constantly lapping surface. There was green, so many greens, deep and light at the same time, and there were all different shades of blue: there was a pure aqua blue, a reflected sky blue, a deep midnight blue, a tranquil shade of turquoise, and still yet there were teal blues, green blues, and gray blues. Then there were other colors: there were brilliant, blinding yellows, golds, whites, there were deep and innocent oranges, there were rosy hues, and then there were dark blood red stains, reflected from the deeps of the oceans. And in some places, there seemed to be lavenders, violets, and deep purples of the midnight sky. But over all this there seemed to be a light silver sheen, making it all blend together in a swirl of brilliant blends and colors. It was so beautiful, so. breathtaking. And still, the entire sea in front of him seemed to sparkle, glittering with refractions of the warm lit sun, high in the day sky. Legolas could not repress the shaky intake of breath, but he did not try to. His eyes were wide with wonder, and his mouth absently agape at the beauty of it all. He had never in all of his long years seen anything like it. This was the sea. And suddenly, something from above caught his eye. He raised his head to look up, and there was the most magnificent creature he had ever seen. It wheeled and circled in the air high above his head. Its pure white body seeming to float and hover effortlessly in the sky above the ocean. And then it would flap its great wings, and again it would rise, and with another powerful stroke it would soar. Over the seas, over the sand, over his head, and far into his dreams. Never could he have imagined a more perfect being. Beautiful, carefree, flying high in the air, and looking down upon Middle-Earth from the safety of the sky, and from there, everything is at peace. And then, it opened its soft orange beak to let out a call. But though its beak opened, and its throat moved, no sound did Legolas hear other than the wind in his ears and the crashing waves of the sea. For all that he strained, he could not hear this bird's call. Legolas looked around wildly, why could he not hear it? His eyes were wide in desperation, but still, he did not hear its call. He wrung his hands in front of him, what could he do? He wanted to weep, for though he could see the most perfect of creatures, he could not hear its song - and he was saddened. The wind gone, the waves forgotten, Legolas looked to the sky again for his bird, but instead of a clear, pure blue sky, there were large, ominous clouds, gray and threatening. Legolas tore his eyes from the sky and let them travel to his surroundings. He was on a battlefield, after the battle had been fought. It was a bloody scene, with the wounded and the dead littering the fields all about him. They were completely covered in gore and carnage - what had taken place here? He looked down at him self. He was in light silver armor, with intricate designs across his chest and on his shoulder guards. He could feel the weight of his bow and quiver on his back, but looked down and was surprised to see his long Elven white knife in his hand. And upon his hands, as well as up his arms and upon his chest plate, and all over him for that matter, was blood. Dark red, warm, blood. Legolas sniffed. It was not orkish blood, it did not carry the foul stench, no it smelt like pure blood, that of a good soul. Suddenly, dread gripped the elf's heart. This all seemed very familiar, though he knew not where from. He tried to stop him self, as though he almost knew what he would see, but still he looked upon the ground before him. And there was Gimli. Covered in blood, much as he, only it was his own. And there the dwarf lay, motionless, careless, lifeless. Gimli was dead. Legolas stared in horror. He could not move, he could not think. He could not react; all he could do was stare. In terror, in disbelief, for his greatest and dearest friend was dead. And at his own hand. Legolas fell to his knees, eyes staring into nothingness, sightless to all around him. Only the bloody picture of his dear friend occupied his mind. And there was nothing. but shock. A terrible, heart stopping shock, and then with a roar, a crushing grief and guilt. But still, Legolas only stared. This was a grief beyond all show of emotion, beyond any tear, beyond any thought. It was not comprehensible. And all Legolas could think to do, was scream out Gimli's name, as loud as he could, unleashing his pain, as though it could bring him back.
"GIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!"
"Legolas? Legolas!" Gimli jumped back, startled nearly mindless when Legolas suddenly came out of his terrifying stupor and screamed his name for all it was worth. Aragorn had both hands upon the archer's face, trying to rouse him once again. Calling his name over and over. But after the sudden yell, Legolas seemed to have gone limp once again, but this time, his eyes had snapped open, and was now unconscious with open eyes. Gimli could see a nameless pain reflected within their depths, and its emotion was so powerful, Gimli had stop himself from flinging him self at his friend, but could not stop the shudder that jolted through his body. His eyes seemed, so. lifeless. What was happening to his friend?
P.S. ~ If anyone, after reading this chapter, thinks that I made Legolas a crybaby, I would like to set the record straight. The situations I put him in are very trying and I am sure any other person set with same circumstances would be totally bawling rather than letting discreet tears fall and silently weeping. So, anyhoo, ENJOY! :)
Chapter 6
He floated. Alone, lost, and blissfully oblivious to all around him. And he floated, limbs free, mind blank. The silence of the black abyss he was held suspended in was one minor detail his uncomprehending mind came to notice. No sound, no sight, no smell, and there was naught to touch. As though he was all alone in a sea of nothingness. But suddenly, the darkness of the empty abyss began to swallow him, cover him, enclose him within its inky blackness. His eyes snapped open, but they saw naught, for there was naught to see. His before lifeless body began to struggle, arms flailed, legs kicked. He could feel it creeping over him, holding him down encompassing him. The darkness began to seep into him; he could feel it - sense it - begin to attack his soul, sucking away the light of his Thule. The pain. it was unbearable! No! It must not take him, it was trying to rob him of what he held dear as an elf - his light, his soul, his passion, his life.
Legolas screamed. But it was completely swallowed into the darkness, and he could not even hear his own cry. He kept screaming, he could hear it in his mind, the sound of his own agony, his own despair - but it did not meet his ears. Soon his voice faltered, he grew hoarse, though it could not be heard, and he stopped. And he began to weep.
Was this how it was to end? Would he die like this, with his own soul ripped from his body, stolen by the darkness that held the light of his heart and let it dim, then die. And the tears would not stop. But now he knew not he was weeping, he only heard the echoes of his own screams in his mind, and felt the agony of the black about him, tearing him apart - bit by painful bit. This was worse than any orc torture he could possibly fathom. He writhed in the unending pain, the searing agony, and his head hung in defeat, as he let his own remorse and despair wash over him. So much, so many, his loved ones, his home.
Where was his home? Whom did he love? He shook his head, he. he could not remember. He knew there were those he wished to see, one last time. but who! Who cared? There was only darkness now. Only pain, despair, emptiness - there was nothing left for him. Why would he care what was left behind.
And then, something clicked. The darkness, it was familiar. his dream! This was like. like. where was it he had been? What was it he had been doing? His thoughts swirled within his mind, confused, delusional. Suddenly, a sound.
"Legolas?"
Who?
"Legolas? Legolas!"
Who was Legolas?
"Legolas!"
Why did he recognize that name? Who was Legolas? He shook his head again, as if trying to rid himself of this endless uncertainty, this confusion.
"Legolas! Please."
There it was again, faintly, but there. That voice - so pleading, so sincere. Who did it call for? Who was Legolas? Why did he hear it? When he thought he was all alone in this deep private hell, where the inky darkness abounds. Why. who? And then,
". come back to me, Legolas."
Legolas. Legolas. He was Legolas. HE was Legolas! He opened his eyes again, but this time it was not just an abyss of black. There. so far away, but there - a light. Legolas struggled anew, the Elvin endurance and fiery resistance to all that is evil stirred within him. But this time, he had hope. And with hope, came strength. The strength to over come unimaginable odds, and so now, Legolas called upon that strength. And slowly, he freed himself of the darkness that clung so firmly to him. It tried to hold him in place, but he fought it. He could sense its dread as it lost its hold on its prey; he could feel it wail in his mind, and for a moment that stopped him. He was almost free, but the screaming pain inside his head echoed far and deep, and he doubled over, hands pressed firmly against his ears. Trying to block the sound out, but it was in his head, and he screamed, just as he had before, in pitiful agony, in utter despair. And though he could feel his Thule being stripped from him anew, his memory of the light, his memory of being free of this horrible emptiness - fueled him. And with one step, he came closer. The wails of sorrow became louder in his mind, and he screamed again in pain, but he took another step. And with each step, the wailing grew louder, but with each step, it grew further away, and he came closer to his freedom. He was Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil, and he was one of the Fellowship of the Ring, sworn to protect Frodo the ring bearer and all who were of the company. But, he had become lost. how had he become lost? And now his wails joined that of the dark. He was lost in this eternal blackness! He could not see the light, how was he to get out! No!!! But,
"Legolas."
And suddenly, as his pleading, tear stained eyes looked up; penetrating the darkness, he saw again the light. His fair face, lit in a wide smile. Once again, there was hope. Legolas, trudging through the sea of nothingness summoned all his last strength for a last attempt at freedom. This could not go on forever and his endurance was ebbing, slowly failing him. He must escape this silent prison of doom now, or it would never be done. And as he took another step, he mentally wept, screamed, prayed, hoped. then jumped.
The final wails and screeches of dread and despair that echoed in his head abruptly stopped. Legolas opened his eyes. He stood at the edge of a cliff. He could see where the sturdy earth suddenly fell off. He looked down. black. There was only darkness - Legolas shuddered. His eyes traveled to his own feet - wait - his own feet. he could see! The thought sunk in. He had escaped! It was gone, the clinging darkness was gone! He wanted to cry out with joy, but held his tongue, as he still did not know where he had gone. His gaze then wandered to his hands. He held them out in front of himself; they faintly glowed of their own light. His light - he had regained his Thule. he was whole again. Legolas hugged himself, arms wrapped around thin chest, and he fell to his knees upon the hard stone ground. Tears of relief and joy slid from beneath his tightly shut eyes. The utter and complete sorrow he had felt when the darkness had managed to rip his soul and body had been nearly unbearable, he had begged whoever had been listening to let him die. The feeling of total emptiness was unlike anything he had ever felt, for he had always had his light within him to call upon for strength and comfort, and it had been stripped from him. He forced himself not to remember the ordeal. He opened his eyes once again and managed to stagger into a standing position again. He cautiously turned around, and a bleak sight met his eyes. There was only gray walls, shadows of black, once magnificent white pillars and halls. It. it was Moria! Legolas' eyes widened, and his lips parted in a silent gasp - his dream! This was in his dream! He was here again, suspended in his world of dreams. But this time, there was no Frodo, there was no ring, and there was no Gandalf. Only the dim gray stone of the Moria chambers and walls. Legolas' head snapped from side to side, looking for anyone, anything familiar, comforting - anything that could help him. But there was naught. His eyes darkened in defeat and he lowered his head, his shoulders slumped and he wanted to fall to his knees again, for he suddenly had naught the strength to stay standing.
And then, he was on a peaceful beach of white sand and clear aqua seawater. There was a strong breeze that had his long pale blond locks billowing around his face, impairing his vision. He turned his face to the cool breeze and closed his eyes as he let it wash over him. He felt it pulling the light strands of his hair behind him, and it was soothing. The feel of the cool wind brushing his face let his mind relax, thus relaxing his body, and soon, a small smile graced his lips. And then there was the ocean. Legolas started as he suddenly heard the sound of something crashing against the sand. He spun to face the shore, eyes alert, but there was only the clear blue waters, white foam leading the waves, as they hit the shore. He watched, astounded, fascinated, dumbfounded as the waves of churling, bubbling water rolled and pounded against the shore, again and again. Crash after crash as they hit the magnificent white sand. There was an unmistakable rhythm about the endless pattern of waves, a slightly hidden music. But if you listened, you could hear it. The notes of the sea, perfect in their creation, the music of nature. And as Legolas stopped, and listened, his mind was lulled into light Elven dreams. But something else caught his eyes: there were colors! So many colors! As he watched, transfixed, all the colors of nature were reflected from the constantly lapping surface. There was green, so many greens, deep and light at the same time, and there were all different shades of blue: there was a pure aqua blue, a reflected sky blue, a deep midnight blue, a tranquil shade of turquoise, and still yet there were teal blues, green blues, and gray blues. Then there were other colors: there were brilliant, blinding yellows, golds, whites, there were deep and innocent oranges, there were rosy hues, and then there were dark blood red stains, reflected from the deeps of the oceans. And in some places, there seemed to be lavenders, violets, and deep purples of the midnight sky. But over all this there seemed to be a light silver sheen, making it all blend together in a swirl of brilliant blends and colors. It was so beautiful, so. breathtaking. And still, the entire sea in front of him seemed to sparkle, glittering with refractions of the warm lit sun, high in the day sky. Legolas could not repress the shaky intake of breath, but he did not try to. His eyes were wide with wonder, and his mouth absently agape at the beauty of it all. He had never in all of his long years seen anything like it. This was the sea. And suddenly, something from above caught his eye. He raised his head to look up, and there was the most magnificent creature he had ever seen. It wheeled and circled in the air high above his head. Its pure white body seeming to float and hover effortlessly in the sky above the ocean. And then it would flap its great wings, and again it would rise, and with another powerful stroke it would soar. Over the seas, over the sand, over his head, and far into his dreams. Never could he have imagined a more perfect being. Beautiful, carefree, flying high in the air, and looking down upon Middle-Earth from the safety of the sky, and from there, everything is at peace. And then, it opened its soft orange beak to let out a call. But though its beak opened, and its throat moved, no sound did Legolas hear other than the wind in his ears and the crashing waves of the sea. For all that he strained, he could not hear this bird's call. Legolas looked around wildly, why could he not hear it? His eyes were wide in desperation, but still, he did not hear its call. He wrung his hands in front of him, what could he do? He wanted to weep, for though he could see the most perfect of creatures, he could not hear its song - and he was saddened. The wind gone, the waves forgotten, Legolas looked to the sky again for his bird, but instead of a clear, pure blue sky, there were large, ominous clouds, gray and threatening. Legolas tore his eyes from the sky and let them travel to his surroundings. He was on a battlefield, after the battle had been fought. It was a bloody scene, with the wounded and the dead littering the fields all about him. They were completely covered in gore and carnage - what had taken place here? He looked down at him self. He was in light silver armor, with intricate designs across his chest and on his shoulder guards. He could feel the weight of his bow and quiver on his back, but looked down and was surprised to see his long Elven white knife in his hand. And upon his hands, as well as up his arms and upon his chest plate, and all over him for that matter, was blood. Dark red, warm, blood. Legolas sniffed. It was not orkish blood, it did not carry the foul stench, no it smelt like pure blood, that of a good soul. Suddenly, dread gripped the elf's heart. This all seemed very familiar, though he knew not where from. He tried to stop him self, as though he almost knew what he would see, but still he looked upon the ground before him. And there was Gimli. Covered in blood, much as he, only it was his own. And there the dwarf lay, motionless, careless, lifeless. Gimli was dead. Legolas stared in horror. He could not move, he could not think. He could not react; all he could do was stare. In terror, in disbelief, for his greatest and dearest friend was dead. And at his own hand. Legolas fell to his knees, eyes staring into nothingness, sightless to all around him. Only the bloody picture of his dear friend occupied his mind. And there was nothing. but shock. A terrible, heart stopping shock, and then with a roar, a crushing grief and guilt. But still, Legolas only stared. This was a grief beyond all show of emotion, beyond any tear, beyond any thought. It was not comprehensible. And all Legolas could think to do, was scream out Gimli's name, as loud as he could, unleashing his pain, as though it could bring him back.
"GIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!"
"Legolas? Legolas!" Gimli jumped back, startled nearly mindless when Legolas suddenly came out of his terrifying stupor and screamed his name for all it was worth. Aragorn had both hands upon the archer's face, trying to rouse him once again. Calling his name over and over. But after the sudden yell, Legolas seemed to have gone limp once again, but this time, his eyes had snapped open, and was now unconscious with open eyes. Gimli could see a nameless pain reflected within their depths, and its emotion was so powerful, Gimli had stop himself from flinging him self at his friend, but could not stop the shudder that jolted through his body. His eyes seemed, so. lifeless. What was happening to his friend?