Ok, this turned out REALLY OFF TRACK!!! I had this great master plan, and
then, poof, it was gone and this happened. But, not, it has turned into
what could be slash (what the fuck is wrong with me??) and probably will be
in chapters to come.
Now, at the end I know the hate is not there, but next chapter it will come back (at least one sided) and then that will happen which will be followed by that and then that and then all of you will hate that person. You follow? Good. So you see, I have kept it kinda the same, or it will get back to the main 'master plan' as soon as possible. So don't fear, this will not be like all, 'they meet, they becomes friends yada yada yada crap crap crap.'
Ok, umm, I do not own the filing cabinet, the printer, or the fax. I am glad I don't own the van, but sadly I own Lord of the Rings only in my dreams. I mean, seriously, if I did own Lord of the Rings, why the hell would I be pairing Legolas off with Aragorn - I mean, me here! Not to mention the fact that I would not be writing this crap for you people to read a I would be selfish and keep it all to myself! *evil grin*
*****
The Blood of Revenge Part Two Confusion.
*****
With only seconds to act, Legolas took the only option that had presented itself as well as providing any hope of survival.
As the man in the bed slowly came to his senses, he was soon aware of two hands gripping his shoulders firmly and hauling him to his feet. He heard the rushed footsteps of what he could only guess were the guards and then two things, the door bursting open and the cold feel of a blade pressed to his throat.
Legolas stood there, a mask of indifference on his face showing no emotion at all. He fought hard to keep his hand holding the blade from shaking, and even harder to hold the fast awakening man to him, pinning his arms by his sides.
The prince of Mirkwood watched as the guards poured into the room, their faces showing the shock that he himself shared. He still had no real wish to kill this human, yet at the same time he did. It was as if his mind were clouded with a thick fog, one that could not be chased away by light and a steady wind.
He felt alone, lost even, as he stood there, faced with a dozen armed Rivendell guards. He could safely and truthfully say that he had never felt so confused in his life. He had no clue as to what to do now, especially as he had already made his supposed intentions clear to those standing in the room. They thought that he was going to kill the man even though he did not really want to. Yet he was standing there, with a dagger pressed to the man's throat, holding him captive in the human's very room as the guards looked upon him as if he were a killer. But he wasn't - or was he? Would he really do it?
So far, the man in his grasp had not even moved let alone made a sound and Legolas could not decide if that was a good or a bad thing. Legolas felt as if he didn't know anything at the moment, he barely even recognised himself anymore.
When one of the guards finally spoke, it was as if he truly was hearing it through a fog or from under the surface of the water. It was quiet, muffled and distant even though he stood only a few feet away from the speaker. Legolas quickly shook his head in an attempt to clear it and to bring himself back to the present moment, yet all he succeeded in doing was making himself fell sick and dizzy.
Mustering all his concentration he focused on the guard in front of him, and slowly the words came into focus and made remote sense in his mind.
"Let him go and step to the side," the guard repeated for what Legolas thought was the second time - or was it the first. Everything was happening to fast for him to think clearly and yet one thing was blindingly obvious; he had to get out.
Acting solely on instinct, he pulled the man closer and started to force him to move backwards with him by pressing the blade closer to the exposed flesh of the neck. The man got the idea and followed him with only a moment's hesitation.
Legolas knew this situation was fast turning from bad to worse and felt himself almost pitting the man he dragged with him. The guards called out to him again to stop and let the man go, but Legolas knew better of that.
One of the other guards turned his attention from Legolas to the man in his grip, "Estel, do you know this Elf?" he asked of the man.
"Nay, I know him not," the man Legolas now knew as Estel replied through clenched teeth. For some reason this thought disturbed Legolas even more. It was not only the fact that he had been stalking this man for months and was now ready to kill him, but more the fact that he did not even know his name. He was holding a dagger to the throat of a living thing and did not even know its name until now. Somehow, with this and the fact that the man did not claim to know him either made this situation seem all the more wrong and Legolas knew that he had made a mistake - or had he?
The thoughts raced through his head so fast that all he wanted to do was to clutch at it, to make it stop, to drop everything and just make this pain in his head stop. It was so intense, the pain so strong that he soon realised that his vision was slightly blurry and that his breaths were coming in quick, short gasps.
"This is your last chance," the head guard warned, "let him go and come peacefully, or we will have to resolve this with force."
For a split second, Legolas felt as if he should do that, that somehow if he co-operated all this would be worked out and the pounding in his head would cease. But no, it wouldn't. He would be taken away and locked up, in a small room away from nature and peace. No one knew him here, no one would be able to confirm his identity and, for some reason, he felt as if his father would not come for him. Not even Lord Elrond would know him, and he mentally cursed himself for always making a point of avoiding any meetings of the Elven Lords.
Pulling the man further back while still using his body as a shield he voiced his answer, "No." It sounded weak, tired and containing no strength whatsoever, even to him.
Backing up, having no idea what he was to do now, Legolas' foot caught on something, knocking him off balance. He and the man Estel fell backwards, landing on the soft bed in the centre of the room.
As Estel felt the Elf holding him fall backwards, he panicked and did the only thing possible, he threw himself back upon the Elf hard, to both help the Elf fall and to avoid the deadly side of the dagger.
Legolas groaned as he was trapped between the bed and the weight of the man on top of him. His head was spinning faster now and his body seemed somewhat unable to obey him. Fighting for control of himself, he pushed as hard as he could at the man laying on him, until he could just feel the floor beneath his booted feet.
Luckily, the dagger had remained in place against the man's throat so he offered little to no resistance, and the guards were somewhat unwilling to endanger the life of their captured friend.
The entire act of getting back to his feet was rather hard for Legolas, especially with the burden of Estel to try and manoeuvre at the same time. But slowly he managed to get them both to their feet and once again took up his slow retreat, hoping against hope that he would be able to reach the window.
With each step he took, the guards took a step after him, their bows noticed and waiting for an opening to shoot at. It was rather lucky that the ranger was tall and well built or too much of Legolas may have been exposed, but his slender frame fit behind the man well, exposing only the top of his head. And thankfully, he knew that the Elves would not wish to kill him before they got some answers.
The prince's tunic was suddenly lifted slightly as a cool breeze filled it, proving that he was indeed close to the window. A lightening quick glance to his right confirmed that, and told him it was only a matter of steps to what could mean freedom - at least on some level as he still had the matter of what to do with the man known as Estel. But he would worry about that later.
The thin silvery sherfon curtains blew around the Elf and his captive while the moon shone brightly on them both, making them look as if they were both something out of this world. Each pace seemed to make Legolas's head spin more, but he was faintly aware of the sent the breeze carried. It was the soft perfume of lavender accented by the normal smells of any forest. In all this confusion and even fear, these seemed to be at least two things that had not changed in some way.
At last his foot slid over the join in the floor and the floor of the outside balcony. While this proved to be good in some ways, it also aroused new problems. How was he to get off over the railing while still using his captive as a shield? Before he could think more on the subject at hand, he heard the lead guard speak again.
"You have nowhere to go, Elf," he almost screamed at Legolas, "now give it up!"
For some reason, Legolas felt himself answering the guard, though what good it was to do him he knew not. "You know as well as I that I can not surrender now." He was relieved that his voice had regained it strength and no longer sounded like he would choke on his own words.
"Yes you can," said a voice, and Legolas soon realised that it was that which belonged to Estel. "You can still walk away from this." He tried to convince Legolas.
To Legolas' surprise, as well as that of the guards, he found himself laughing, "You have to be kidding me," he managed to say through an almost insane laughter, "how daft do you think I am. There is only one way out of this, and you and I alike both know what it -" his sentence was cut short by a sudden cry that escaped his lips. The rushing of emotions in his head intensified and his vision blurred yet again. For the second time he wanted to hold his aching head, to squeeze it between his palms until the pain was pushed out.
Legolas was faintly aware that the man in his grasp had dared to turn his head and look at him the best he could, and when Legolas' eyes met the dark grey ones of the man's, he could have sworn that he saw the faint traces of concern in them.
The guards had stopped their advancement to stare the Elf, who was now showing the signs of the agony he felt clearly on his face. Never before had they seen such a thing and, in their eyes, it made Legolas all the more dangerous.
Legolas, now hyperventilating and shaking, let his grip on the human slack a little. Slowly, giving in to the urge, the arm that was holding the man to him let go completely and travelled to the side of his head, pressing hard into his temple.
That was all it took, that one little moment of weakness was the thing that could prove his downfall.
Estel stepped away only a little, not sure whether to hate the Elf that stood in front of him, or to try and help him. It was the first good look at his would be captor or killer that he had had, and he was rather pleasantly surprised. All the while he had been in his grip, he had, for some reason pictured the face above his to be scared and rugged, unlike that of any Elf he had ever seen. But that was just a stereotype that he had picked up along his travels, that the cruel and evil ones always looked ugly, like an Orc. And yet this Elf was far from it.
Even in his pain, Legolas was strangely compelling. His skin was silky and smooth, the colour of cream. His hair was well cared for and hung past his shoulders in a cascade of golden-blond. He was tall and slender, yet he was stronger then he looked - much stronger - and as he stood there, one hand pressed to his head, the other holding the dagger by his side, he seemed almost feline in his posture.
Legolas was hardly aware that the ranger that he had hunted for so long had pulled himself free of his grip. His world had shrunk to consist of only two things, him and his pain, yet he was somewhat unsure if even he was anywhere to be found in this world of agony. He still continued to stumble blindly backwards, trying to get away from what was unknown, and slowly, the small of his back came in contact with the smooth stone railing.
The guards were at a loss as to what to do. This crazed Elf had tried to kill or kidnap one of their own, and yet looking at him now, in all his pain, he seemed weak and unable to hurt a fly. But he had attempted murder - or what they thought should be considered murder.
The lead guard looked to Estel for council, still unsure what to do with the now wailing Elf leaning hard against the stone railing. "Estel, how do you fare?" he asked, his voice slightly shaken at the scene that had just unfolded before him.
"I'm fine, Coravil," Estel sighed while still watching the tall blond Elf before him. For some reason he did not want to see this Elf hurt, he did not fathom why, but it was just something about the way he stood there, so vulnerable.
"Sir," one of the younger guards questioned him, "What are we to do with him?" he asked while indicating to Legolas who had now dropped his dagger and was holding his head in both hands. His eyes were squeezed tight and a small trickle of blood ran down his chin from where he had bitten into his bottom lip.
Estel took a slow step to where Legolas stood, while answering softly that he didn't know. The still nameless Elf stood there shaking uncontrollably and, as far as Estel knew, unaware of his approach.
Legolas felt as if an axe had cleaved his skull and if he were to move it, it would surely come loose from his shoulders. He had long bitten into his lip to silence the cries that threatened to force their way up his dry and cracked throat and was well aware of the metallic taste of his own blood slipping warmly down his chin and into his mouth. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, or even seen in another Elf, and this alone worried him more than he cared to admit to himself.
Then, faintly, he heard the unmistakable sound of a footstep coming towards him. With a sickly feeling he remembered where he was and all that had just taken place. He wanted out. Wanted to be free of this horrible place in which he had no control.
It was this thought alone that made him move. As yet another footstep fell, this time right next to him, his head snapped up and he dropped his arms to his side. Looking wildly around him, he saw that it was the human Estel that had approached him. Briefly, he wondered why the man had come so close to him, especially as he had tried - or had he really? - to kill him only moments before.
Then before he had time to consider this any more, his sensitive ears picked up on the sound of an arrow being released right at him.
The youngest guard, having seen Legolas suddenly come to life in actions, panicked and let his arrow fly straight towards the heart of the stranger. Coravil quickly pushed the youngster down, but was not quick enough to stop the already flying arrow, and he, as well as the other guards were forced to watch on in terror and utter helplessness.
Estel, it seemed, had also heard the soft sound, and, seeing that the dazed Elf had no time to react to dodge the flying shaft, threw himself towards the Elf. He did not know why he felt compelled to do such a thing, especially to this unknown would-be murderer, but something in the hasty reaction felt right.
And so, both man and Elf went crashing over the stone railing and sprawling onto the dew damp grass beneath, but not before the tip of the arrow embedded itself in Estel's right shoulder.
As Legolas landed the wind was knocked right out of him and the extra weight of the human did nothing to make the impact less painful. The prince knew not why this human had helped him, or what really had happened on the balcony, but he was thankful nonetheless.
It wasn't until the human groaned and tried to push himself off the slender Elf that Legolas realised that the arrow had struck his saviour. Guilt rushed through him until he remembered that just a few minutes ago he was about to kill the man while he slept. His head had still hadn't stopped pounding, and he now felt the tugging in his stomach warning him that he was about to vomit.
By now most of the guards were jumping off the balcony to see what had befallen their friend and his captor, and were helping a rather dazed Estel to his feet. A pair of hands reached down towards Legolas, who, with as much strength he could manage, pushed them away ere rolling onto his side, and heaving violently.
It was only the second time in his life that he had ever been sick, and already he had resolved that he did not like the feeling at all. The first time was when he had found his dead mother after she was in the clutches of the Orcs for a number of days, and even now as he retched, flashes of her bruised and bloody face appeared before his closed eyes. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he could not purge the memories from his mind and that they would always follow him, no matter where he went.
None of the guards made a move to the Elf's side and for some reason that angered Estel more than anything. Shoving Coravil's supporting arms off him, he stumbled somewhat ungracefully to where the blond Elf lay still vomiting. Not completely knowing what to do or why he was doing it, he simply placed his hand reassuringly on the Elf's back while holding his silky hair out of his face.
As Legolas continued to retch, Estel slowly started to whisper words of encouragement into his ear, much to his own confusion as well as the guards that just stood watching from nearby.
After some time it seemed that Legolas had nothing more in his stomach to empty and he just lay there, his body shaking gently. He was aware of the hand on his back, and the hand that now stroked his hair were once it was holding it from his face, yet he made no move to be released from the touch. Even when, to his surprise, the man pulled his head into his chest and cradled him while still muttering things so soft that even Legolas could not make them out.
At this, the guards exchanged baffled glances, not quite sure what had transpired between the two on the ground. And so they stood and merely watched, utterly fanaticised at the turn of emotions between the two strangers.
No one knew how long they stayed there, it could have been just minuted or it could have been hours, but when a clear and regal voice cut through the quiet sobs and hushed whispers, all eyes, including Estel's turned to the sound.
"Would one of you care to explain to me just what in Valar's name is going on here?" Lord Elrond asked while casting his gaze to the blond Elf in his foster son's arms and the arrow that still penetrated from Estel's shoulder.
Estel looked up at the Lord flanked by his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, with a look that a child in trouble would give to his parents who were about to scold him.
Finally, at Elrond's expecting sigh, Estel found the words that had fleeted him as soon as the three had appeared. "I can expl - " looking down at the now sleeping blond Elf who still shook spasmodically in his arms, he changed his mind. Shaking his head he corrected himself, knowing that he sounded as confused as he really was, "I can not explain a thing."
*****
Tbc.
There you go, yet another chapter of yet another story. Aren't you people getting sick of me yet?? Seriously I don't think that I have held people's interest and attention for so long in my life. Normally they get bored with me - or is that cause I just tell them to get lost and to 'blow me' - should work on my personally and social skills huh?
Ok, well as always, please review and let me know what you all think.
*Takes a bow*
Minka Rain Greenleaf
Now, at the end I know the hate is not there, but next chapter it will come back (at least one sided) and then that will happen which will be followed by that and then that and then all of you will hate that person. You follow? Good. So you see, I have kept it kinda the same, or it will get back to the main 'master plan' as soon as possible. So don't fear, this will not be like all, 'they meet, they becomes friends yada yada yada crap crap crap.'
Ok, umm, I do not own the filing cabinet, the printer, or the fax. I am glad I don't own the van, but sadly I own Lord of the Rings only in my dreams. I mean, seriously, if I did own Lord of the Rings, why the hell would I be pairing Legolas off with Aragorn - I mean, me here! Not to mention the fact that I would not be writing this crap for you people to read a I would be selfish and keep it all to myself! *evil grin*
*****
The Blood of Revenge Part Two Confusion.
*****
With only seconds to act, Legolas took the only option that had presented itself as well as providing any hope of survival.
As the man in the bed slowly came to his senses, he was soon aware of two hands gripping his shoulders firmly and hauling him to his feet. He heard the rushed footsteps of what he could only guess were the guards and then two things, the door bursting open and the cold feel of a blade pressed to his throat.
Legolas stood there, a mask of indifference on his face showing no emotion at all. He fought hard to keep his hand holding the blade from shaking, and even harder to hold the fast awakening man to him, pinning his arms by his sides.
The prince of Mirkwood watched as the guards poured into the room, their faces showing the shock that he himself shared. He still had no real wish to kill this human, yet at the same time he did. It was as if his mind were clouded with a thick fog, one that could not be chased away by light and a steady wind.
He felt alone, lost even, as he stood there, faced with a dozen armed Rivendell guards. He could safely and truthfully say that he had never felt so confused in his life. He had no clue as to what to do now, especially as he had already made his supposed intentions clear to those standing in the room. They thought that he was going to kill the man even though he did not really want to. Yet he was standing there, with a dagger pressed to the man's throat, holding him captive in the human's very room as the guards looked upon him as if he were a killer. But he wasn't - or was he? Would he really do it?
So far, the man in his grasp had not even moved let alone made a sound and Legolas could not decide if that was a good or a bad thing. Legolas felt as if he didn't know anything at the moment, he barely even recognised himself anymore.
When one of the guards finally spoke, it was as if he truly was hearing it through a fog or from under the surface of the water. It was quiet, muffled and distant even though he stood only a few feet away from the speaker. Legolas quickly shook his head in an attempt to clear it and to bring himself back to the present moment, yet all he succeeded in doing was making himself fell sick and dizzy.
Mustering all his concentration he focused on the guard in front of him, and slowly the words came into focus and made remote sense in his mind.
"Let him go and step to the side," the guard repeated for what Legolas thought was the second time - or was it the first. Everything was happening to fast for him to think clearly and yet one thing was blindingly obvious; he had to get out.
Acting solely on instinct, he pulled the man closer and started to force him to move backwards with him by pressing the blade closer to the exposed flesh of the neck. The man got the idea and followed him with only a moment's hesitation.
Legolas knew this situation was fast turning from bad to worse and felt himself almost pitting the man he dragged with him. The guards called out to him again to stop and let the man go, but Legolas knew better of that.
One of the other guards turned his attention from Legolas to the man in his grip, "Estel, do you know this Elf?" he asked of the man.
"Nay, I know him not," the man Legolas now knew as Estel replied through clenched teeth. For some reason this thought disturbed Legolas even more. It was not only the fact that he had been stalking this man for months and was now ready to kill him, but more the fact that he did not even know his name. He was holding a dagger to the throat of a living thing and did not even know its name until now. Somehow, with this and the fact that the man did not claim to know him either made this situation seem all the more wrong and Legolas knew that he had made a mistake - or had he?
The thoughts raced through his head so fast that all he wanted to do was to clutch at it, to make it stop, to drop everything and just make this pain in his head stop. It was so intense, the pain so strong that he soon realised that his vision was slightly blurry and that his breaths were coming in quick, short gasps.
"This is your last chance," the head guard warned, "let him go and come peacefully, or we will have to resolve this with force."
For a split second, Legolas felt as if he should do that, that somehow if he co-operated all this would be worked out and the pounding in his head would cease. But no, it wouldn't. He would be taken away and locked up, in a small room away from nature and peace. No one knew him here, no one would be able to confirm his identity and, for some reason, he felt as if his father would not come for him. Not even Lord Elrond would know him, and he mentally cursed himself for always making a point of avoiding any meetings of the Elven Lords.
Pulling the man further back while still using his body as a shield he voiced his answer, "No." It sounded weak, tired and containing no strength whatsoever, even to him.
Backing up, having no idea what he was to do now, Legolas' foot caught on something, knocking him off balance. He and the man Estel fell backwards, landing on the soft bed in the centre of the room.
As Estel felt the Elf holding him fall backwards, he panicked and did the only thing possible, he threw himself back upon the Elf hard, to both help the Elf fall and to avoid the deadly side of the dagger.
Legolas groaned as he was trapped between the bed and the weight of the man on top of him. His head was spinning faster now and his body seemed somewhat unable to obey him. Fighting for control of himself, he pushed as hard as he could at the man laying on him, until he could just feel the floor beneath his booted feet.
Luckily, the dagger had remained in place against the man's throat so he offered little to no resistance, and the guards were somewhat unwilling to endanger the life of their captured friend.
The entire act of getting back to his feet was rather hard for Legolas, especially with the burden of Estel to try and manoeuvre at the same time. But slowly he managed to get them both to their feet and once again took up his slow retreat, hoping against hope that he would be able to reach the window.
With each step he took, the guards took a step after him, their bows noticed and waiting for an opening to shoot at. It was rather lucky that the ranger was tall and well built or too much of Legolas may have been exposed, but his slender frame fit behind the man well, exposing only the top of his head. And thankfully, he knew that the Elves would not wish to kill him before they got some answers.
The prince's tunic was suddenly lifted slightly as a cool breeze filled it, proving that he was indeed close to the window. A lightening quick glance to his right confirmed that, and told him it was only a matter of steps to what could mean freedom - at least on some level as he still had the matter of what to do with the man known as Estel. But he would worry about that later.
The thin silvery sherfon curtains blew around the Elf and his captive while the moon shone brightly on them both, making them look as if they were both something out of this world. Each pace seemed to make Legolas's head spin more, but he was faintly aware of the sent the breeze carried. It was the soft perfume of lavender accented by the normal smells of any forest. In all this confusion and even fear, these seemed to be at least two things that had not changed in some way.
At last his foot slid over the join in the floor and the floor of the outside balcony. While this proved to be good in some ways, it also aroused new problems. How was he to get off over the railing while still using his captive as a shield? Before he could think more on the subject at hand, he heard the lead guard speak again.
"You have nowhere to go, Elf," he almost screamed at Legolas, "now give it up!"
For some reason, Legolas felt himself answering the guard, though what good it was to do him he knew not. "You know as well as I that I can not surrender now." He was relieved that his voice had regained it strength and no longer sounded like he would choke on his own words.
"Yes you can," said a voice, and Legolas soon realised that it was that which belonged to Estel. "You can still walk away from this." He tried to convince Legolas.
To Legolas' surprise, as well as that of the guards, he found himself laughing, "You have to be kidding me," he managed to say through an almost insane laughter, "how daft do you think I am. There is only one way out of this, and you and I alike both know what it -" his sentence was cut short by a sudden cry that escaped his lips. The rushing of emotions in his head intensified and his vision blurred yet again. For the second time he wanted to hold his aching head, to squeeze it between his palms until the pain was pushed out.
Legolas was faintly aware that the man in his grasp had dared to turn his head and look at him the best he could, and when Legolas' eyes met the dark grey ones of the man's, he could have sworn that he saw the faint traces of concern in them.
The guards had stopped their advancement to stare the Elf, who was now showing the signs of the agony he felt clearly on his face. Never before had they seen such a thing and, in their eyes, it made Legolas all the more dangerous.
Legolas, now hyperventilating and shaking, let his grip on the human slack a little. Slowly, giving in to the urge, the arm that was holding the man to him let go completely and travelled to the side of his head, pressing hard into his temple.
That was all it took, that one little moment of weakness was the thing that could prove his downfall.
Estel stepped away only a little, not sure whether to hate the Elf that stood in front of him, or to try and help him. It was the first good look at his would be captor or killer that he had had, and he was rather pleasantly surprised. All the while he had been in his grip, he had, for some reason pictured the face above his to be scared and rugged, unlike that of any Elf he had ever seen. But that was just a stereotype that he had picked up along his travels, that the cruel and evil ones always looked ugly, like an Orc. And yet this Elf was far from it.
Even in his pain, Legolas was strangely compelling. His skin was silky and smooth, the colour of cream. His hair was well cared for and hung past his shoulders in a cascade of golden-blond. He was tall and slender, yet he was stronger then he looked - much stronger - and as he stood there, one hand pressed to his head, the other holding the dagger by his side, he seemed almost feline in his posture.
Legolas was hardly aware that the ranger that he had hunted for so long had pulled himself free of his grip. His world had shrunk to consist of only two things, him and his pain, yet he was somewhat unsure if even he was anywhere to be found in this world of agony. He still continued to stumble blindly backwards, trying to get away from what was unknown, and slowly, the small of his back came in contact with the smooth stone railing.
The guards were at a loss as to what to do. This crazed Elf had tried to kill or kidnap one of their own, and yet looking at him now, in all his pain, he seemed weak and unable to hurt a fly. But he had attempted murder - or what they thought should be considered murder.
The lead guard looked to Estel for council, still unsure what to do with the now wailing Elf leaning hard against the stone railing. "Estel, how do you fare?" he asked, his voice slightly shaken at the scene that had just unfolded before him.
"I'm fine, Coravil," Estel sighed while still watching the tall blond Elf before him. For some reason he did not want to see this Elf hurt, he did not fathom why, but it was just something about the way he stood there, so vulnerable.
"Sir," one of the younger guards questioned him, "What are we to do with him?" he asked while indicating to Legolas who had now dropped his dagger and was holding his head in both hands. His eyes were squeezed tight and a small trickle of blood ran down his chin from where he had bitten into his bottom lip.
Estel took a slow step to where Legolas stood, while answering softly that he didn't know. The still nameless Elf stood there shaking uncontrollably and, as far as Estel knew, unaware of his approach.
Legolas felt as if an axe had cleaved his skull and if he were to move it, it would surely come loose from his shoulders. He had long bitten into his lip to silence the cries that threatened to force their way up his dry and cracked throat and was well aware of the metallic taste of his own blood slipping warmly down his chin and into his mouth. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, or even seen in another Elf, and this alone worried him more than he cared to admit to himself.
Then, faintly, he heard the unmistakable sound of a footstep coming towards him. With a sickly feeling he remembered where he was and all that had just taken place. He wanted out. Wanted to be free of this horrible place in which he had no control.
It was this thought alone that made him move. As yet another footstep fell, this time right next to him, his head snapped up and he dropped his arms to his side. Looking wildly around him, he saw that it was the human Estel that had approached him. Briefly, he wondered why the man had come so close to him, especially as he had tried - or had he really? - to kill him only moments before.
Then before he had time to consider this any more, his sensitive ears picked up on the sound of an arrow being released right at him.
The youngest guard, having seen Legolas suddenly come to life in actions, panicked and let his arrow fly straight towards the heart of the stranger. Coravil quickly pushed the youngster down, but was not quick enough to stop the already flying arrow, and he, as well as the other guards were forced to watch on in terror and utter helplessness.
Estel, it seemed, had also heard the soft sound, and, seeing that the dazed Elf had no time to react to dodge the flying shaft, threw himself towards the Elf. He did not know why he felt compelled to do such a thing, especially to this unknown would-be murderer, but something in the hasty reaction felt right.
And so, both man and Elf went crashing over the stone railing and sprawling onto the dew damp grass beneath, but not before the tip of the arrow embedded itself in Estel's right shoulder.
As Legolas landed the wind was knocked right out of him and the extra weight of the human did nothing to make the impact less painful. The prince knew not why this human had helped him, or what really had happened on the balcony, but he was thankful nonetheless.
It wasn't until the human groaned and tried to push himself off the slender Elf that Legolas realised that the arrow had struck his saviour. Guilt rushed through him until he remembered that just a few minutes ago he was about to kill the man while he slept. His head had still hadn't stopped pounding, and he now felt the tugging in his stomach warning him that he was about to vomit.
By now most of the guards were jumping off the balcony to see what had befallen their friend and his captor, and were helping a rather dazed Estel to his feet. A pair of hands reached down towards Legolas, who, with as much strength he could manage, pushed them away ere rolling onto his side, and heaving violently.
It was only the second time in his life that he had ever been sick, and already he had resolved that he did not like the feeling at all. The first time was when he had found his dead mother after she was in the clutches of the Orcs for a number of days, and even now as he retched, flashes of her bruised and bloody face appeared before his closed eyes. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he could not purge the memories from his mind and that they would always follow him, no matter where he went.
None of the guards made a move to the Elf's side and for some reason that angered Estel more than anything. Shoving Coravil's supporting arms off him, he stumbled somewhat ungracefully to where the blond Elf lay still vomiting. Not completely knowing what to do or why he was doing it, he simply placed his hand reassuringly on the Elf's back while holding his silky hair out of his face.
As Legolas continued to retch, Estel slowly started to whisper words of encouragement into his ear, much to his own confusion as well as the guards that just stood watching from nearby.
After some time it seemed that Legolas had nothing more in his stomach to empty and he just lay there, his body shaking gently. He was aware of the hand on his back, and the hand that now stroked his hair were once it was holding it from his face, yet he made no move to be released from the touch. Even when, to his surprise, the man pulled his head into his chest and cradled him while still muttering things so soft that even Legolas could not make them out.
At this, the guards exchanged baffled glances, not quite sure what had transpired between the two on the ground. And so they stood and merely watched, utterly fanaticised at the turn of emotions between the two strangers.
No one knew how long they stayed there, it could have been just minuted or it could have been hours, but when a clear and regal voice cut through the quiet sobs and hushed whispers, all eyes, including Estel's turned to the sound.
"Would one of you care to explain to me just what in Valar's name is going on here?" Lord Elrond asked while casting his gaze to the blond Elf in his foster son's arms and the arrow that still penetrated from Estel's shoulder.
Estel looked up at the Lord flanked by his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, with a look that a child in trouble would give to his parents who were about to scold him.
Finally, at Elrond's expecting sigh, Estel found the words that had fleeted him as soon as the three had appeared. "I can expl - " looking down at the now sleeping blond Elf who still shook spasmodically in his arms, he changed his mind. Shaking his head he corrected himself, knowing that he sounded as confused as he really was, "I can not explain a thing."
*****
Tbc.
There you go, yet another chapter of yet another story. Aren't you people getting sick of me yet?? Seriously I don't think that I have held people's interest and attention for so long in my life. Normally they get bored with me - or is that cause I just tell them to get lost and to 'blow me' - should work on my personally and social skills huh?
Ok, well as always, please review and let me know what you all think.
*Takes a bow*
Minka Rain Greenleaf