A/N: Chapter 7 as promised, poor Aragorn has no idea what's going on.
Thanks to Mike whose influence on this chapter is clear. Clare's however,
is less noticeable.
The Gift Of Hindsight
I should never have relented to Legolas, despite his confidence and strong will. However, I had an injured Hobbit to tend to. Or at least I thought I did. The sight at first was horrific. Samwise was rolling around on the ground in obvious agony, emitting a low moan and clutching at his mid- drift. My first thought was large wound, perhaps inflicted by an orc spear. On closer inspection I saw no wound or blood. I angrily began to interrogate the little one, demanding to know what he had consumed.
Nothing since breakfast he claimed, though his shamed expression gave him away.
"I found some mushrooms, you were all excited about seeing Lothlorien, and I was hungry." He remarked weakly, still moaning.
This was the last thing I needed. My mind rested with my lover, I did not like the idea of him alone with Boromir.
I caught the scene between them earlier during the battle. Legolas' beautiful face marred with tension and even fear. I had not understood until I had noticed the man's firm grip upon my elf, his knuckles white with tension. The tightness of the hold had to be causing the elf pain. He was tugging at the collar of the tunic, clearly restraining Legolas and preventing him from moving away. Previously I had watched as Boromir whispered something into an elven ear, displeasing it's owner. I had perhaps been foolish in leaving Legolas under Boromir's protection. The human was merely troubling the elf, and had not once yet raised his sword. This inaction was singling both himself and my lover out as easy targets. He was endangering my beloved, who blind as he may be, had been more danger to the orcs than the perfectly able sword wielding man to his left. I began to fight harder; chasing orcs as I had never done before, keen to dispatch them before they advanced any further up the slope towards Legolas. Once satisfied, I began walking slowly upwards. I furiously removed Boromir's sweaty hand from my beloved, whose grip was tight enough to tear fabric, drawing a slight wince from the golden beauty. I adjusted the clearly uncomfortable remains of the collar while glancing over the creamy skin of Legolas' neck. I growled as I spotted distinctive half moon shapes emblazed in red across his shoulder. It was lucky that the old arrow wound had already healed.
I took Legolas' bow and threw a look at Boromir promising more later. I would not allow this to lie.
The writhing form below me brought my attention back to the task in hand. Sam had been pleading for my help for some time. I called to Gimli to provide me with herbs from my pack. He did so without question. After feeding them somewhat forcibly to the protesting hobbit. I sat back and allowed them to take effect. Soon enough the normally pale halfling began to turn decidedly green.
"I don't feel well." He said with an undeniable gargle. I watched in amusement as he rushed to his feet, clamping his hand over his mouth. Frodo followed closely at his heels as they disappeared out of sight.
I turned my attention back to the camp, keen to prepare a hot meal in order to welcome back my beloved upon his return. Still concerned over his welfare I found myself gazing in the direction they had gone, praying for them to appear from among the emerald foliage. I resigned myself to the fact they would be some time yet.
With a heavy sigh, I turned my thoughts to the creation of a fire in the centre of our camp. I quickly ordered the dwarf and the hobbits that flanked him to forage for dry wood, remaining behind myself to survey our supplies. Despite this new sense of motivation I still found myself musing over the welfare and whereabouts of my prince of Elves. I was thrown from my train of thought, by Gimli's triumphant and bountiful return.
After the successful construction of the fire, it was then that I noticed the absence of Sam and Frodo. Why had not they returned? Concern flashed through my mind, though I was reluctant to send anyone to look for them, fearful of splitting the fellowship further. So we elected to remain, despite my dislike of the situation.
Legolas had once told me of his distrust of Boromir. I had disagreed, requiring their co-operation within our party. To be fair, I too had observed Boromir's fascination with my golden haired Adonis. The gratuitous glances had first done little more than irritate me when we had first began to traverse the stormy plains of Middle Earth in the pursuit of good, before I knew of Legolas' requited love. Rage was born from irritation, along with passionate, all-consuming and unashamed jealousy after that wonderful night in Lothlorien.
For the sake of the quest and fellowship I had suppressed these feelings and concerns and had attempted to trust the Son of Gondor, who too had pledged his life and allegiance at the meeting of the secret council. He deserved my respect and trust as a member of the fellowship. I led tentatively on my bedroll, as the sky grew darker. Legolas' meal stood untouched, as did that of Boromir, Sam and Frodo. The last thing I heard was Gimli's mumbling before sleep consumed me.
A/N: More tomorrow, continue to review. Please.
The Gift Of Hindsight
I should never have relented to Legolas, despite his confidence and strong will. However, I had an injured Hobbit to tend to. Or at least I thought I did. The sight at first was horrific. Samwise was rolling around on the ground in obvious agony, emitting a low moan and clutching at his mid- drift. My first thought was large wound, perhaps inflicted by an orc spear. On closer inspection I saw no wound or blood. I angrily began to interrogate the little one, demanding to know what he had consumed.
Nothing since breakfast he claimed, though his shamed expression gave him away.
"I found some mushrooms, you were all excited about seeing Lothlorien, and I was hungry." He remarked weakly, still moaning.
This was the last thing I needed. My mind rested with my lover, I did not like the idea of him alone with Boromir.
I caught the scene between them earlier during the battle. Legolas' beautiful face marred with tension and even fear. I had not understood until I had noticed the man's firm grip upon my elf, his knuckles white with tension. The tightness of the hold had to be causing the elf pain. He was tugging at the collar of the tunic, clearly restraining Legolas and preventing him from moving away. Previously I had watched as Boromir whispered something into an elven ear, displeasing it's owner. I had perhaps been foolish in leaving Legolas under Boromir's protection. The human was merely troubling the elf, and had not once yet raised his sword. This inaction was singling both himself and my lover out as easy targets. He was endangering my beloved, who blind as he may be, had been more danger to the orcs than the perfectly able sword wielding man to his left. I began to fight harder; chasing orcs as I had never done before, keen to dispatch them before they advanced any further up the slope towards Legolas. Once satisfied, I began walking slowly upwards. I furiously removed Boromir's sweaty hand from my beloved, whose grip was tight enough to tear fabric, drawing a slight wince from the golden beauty. I adjusted the clearly uncomfortable remains of the collar while glancing over the creamy skin of Legolas' neck. I growled as I spotted distinctive half moon shapes emblazed in red across his shoulder. It was lucky that the old arrow wound had already healed.
I took Legolas' bow and threw a look at Boromir promising more later. I would not allow this to lie.
The writhing form below me brought my attention back to the task in hand. Sam had been pleading for my help for some time. I called to Gimli to provide me with herbs from my pack. He did so without question. After feeding them somewhat forcibly to the protesting hobbit. I sat back and allowed them to take effect. Soon enough the normally pale halfling began to turn decidedly green.
"I don't feel well." He said with an undeniable gargle. I watched in amusement as he rushed to his feet, clamping his hand over his mouth. Frodo followed closely at his heels as they disappeared out of sight.
I turned my attention back to the camp, keen to prepare a hot meal in order to welcome back my beloved upon his return. Still concerned over his welfare I found myself gazing in the direction they had gone, praying for them to appear from among the emerald foliage. I resigned myself to the fact they would be some time yet.
With a heavy sigh, I turned my thoughts to the creation of a fire in the centre of our camp. I quickly ordered the dwarf and the hobbits that flanked him to forage for dry wood, remaining behind myself to survey our supplies. Despite this new sense of motivation I still found myself musing over the welfare and whereabouts of my prince of Elves. I was thrown from my train of thought, by Gimli's triumphant and bountiful return.
After the successful construction of the fire, it was then that I noticed the absence of Sam and Frodo. Why had not they returned? Concern flashed through my mind, though I was reluctant to send anyone to look for them, fearful of splitting the fellowship further. So we elected to remain, despite my dislike of the situation.
Legolas had once told me of his distrust of Boromir. I had disagreed, requiring their co-operation within our party. To be fair, I too had observed Boromir's fascination with my golden haired Adonis. The gratuitous glances had first done little more than irritate me when we had first began to traverse the stormy plains of Middle Earth in the pursuit of good, before I knew of Legolas' requited love. Rage was born from irritation, along with passionate, all-consuming and unashamed jealousy after that wonderful night in Lothlorien.
For the sake of the quest and fellowship I had suppressed these feelings and concerns and had attempted to trust the Son of Gondor, who too had pledged his life and allegiance at the meeting of the secret council. He deserved my respect and trust as a member of the fellowship. I led tentatively on my bedroll, as the sky grew darker. Legolas' meal stood untouched, as did that of Boromir, Sam and Frodo. The last thing I heard was Gimli's mumbling before sleep consumed me.
A/N: More tomorrow, continue to review. Please.