Am an impatient person, so am posting this early. :) I post for my own
enjoyment, actually. But it would be nice if you reviewed me. I'm only
human. And I like to know if I'm merely causing static on the Internet or
reaching people.
Disclaimer: Someday, when I take over the world, I'll also take over the Lord of the Rings. Until then, alas, I own nothing. Zilch. Nada.
Chapter Two: Budding Rose
Legolas stretched his arms out, yawning. Another day. He got up slowly, and cursed heavily when he saw that a rabbit had managed to get into his small garden. He suddenly fell silent, as the rabbit noticed him.
The rabbit stared at him stupidly. It had never seen an elf or a human before, and so had no idea that it was supposed to run when Legolas took out his bow and arrow quiver...
"Stupid rabbit," Legolas said, skinning it carefully so he wouldn't waste the fur. Rabbits were good; the fur was very soft, the meat was good, and the entrails were excellent for traps, both fish and otherwise.
Legolas put the entrails in a leather pouch (of rabbit skin; it was good not to mix the scents of two animals, or the more intelligent, larger carnivores would be suspicious) and tied the pouch to his belt. Taking a handful of wild nuts and dried fruit from his stores of food, and his kit of handy tools he had made, he set out to check his traps.
Walking towards the closest, which was situated in the perching area of a low branch alongside a berry bush, Legolas heard the noises of struggle and groaned. He hated it when he had to kill the animals. Guaranteed, it was a cleaner death, but he still hated killing trapped animals. They never had the chance to fight back or to flee. It was an unfair fight. The rabbit had been different. It had had a lot of opportunities to escape, and it had merely sat and waited for death. //Funny, that's what I seem to be doing myself.//
As he came in sight of his snare, Legolas gaped. What on earth-?
It was not a deer, or a bird, or a spider.
It was a Human!
Legolas was, to say the least, dumbstruck. Who in the world. . . ? He quickly nocked an arrow to his bow. If it had intruded and been caught in his trap, he had to assume it was hostile. He walked out of his coverage into the clearing, his arrow aimed at the man's throat.
When Legolas came into view, the man stopped his struggles instantly. His head and hands were both caught in the snare; that was the only thing that had saved him. The snare was set to tighten very quickly no matter what the catch did; even if it remained still. Legolas closed in on the man, going in an ever-tightening circle around him, his string still tight and ready.
The man was magnificent, a perfect specimen, an example of what mankind is supposed to be. His body, lithe and muscled, was flexed and tense. His face...
The eyes were perfectly shaped and placed, and were a beautiful stormy gray, that would turn black when he was angered. The mouth, neither too long nor too short, with an elegant curve to the edge that said the man smiled often. His jaw, smooth-shaven, was almost as sculpted as an elf's. And his hair was a deep, glossy brown, like the color of a doe's eyes. At the moment, it was dark with sweat, but Legolas put that down to his struggles to free himself. He finally completed his circuit, and let his aim drop to the forest floor.
"Who are you, to tresspass on my home?" Legolas asked sternly. The breathtaking man cleared his throat.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor. And who are you, masked stranger?" he said in a deep, commanding voice. Legolas shivered inwardly. The man's voice was intoxicating. But he kept up his stern front, refusing to let his emotions show.
"You do not have the right to ask such questions in the realm of Mirkwood, Aragorn," Legolas said, savouring the feel of the name in his mouth. "But I will humor you. I am a former citizen of Mirkwood. You can call me Ghost." Aragorn looked suprised.
"All right... Ghost," he said, clearly wanting a more detailed explaination. Legolas frowned. Aragorn did not deserve to be told yet. He had done nothing to claim his trust, and had been caught tresspassing. //Still, he is beautiful... I think I'll give him just one more humility, and then let him go.// Legolas began to walk out the other side of the clearing. Aragorn looked shocked.
"Wait, where do you think you're going?" he called after Legolas's retreating form. Legolas cocked his head back at his 'prisoner'.
"Where I was before I met you. To complete the rounds of my traps." Legolas grinned at the expression on Aragorn's face. "If there are no more of you humans taking up space in my traps, I will be in a good enough mood to come back and free you. I don't feel like setting you free just yet." Legolas forced himself to turn away from Aragorn's thunderstruck expression before he laughed, and continued walking out, ignoring the mingled threats, pleas, and promises coming from behind him.
Legolas felt slightly giddy as he strode away from his first trap. //I think I'm in love,// he thought happily, as he skipped along, somehow managing to remain silent as he passed. //He's the most wondeful, beautiful person in the world// Then a nasty thought crept in from the back of his head.
//Stupid elf. You're probably the ugliest creature in Middle-Earth, why would he be attracted to you?// Legolas stopped straight in his tracks, the thought taking his elation away like a leaf swept away in a gale. //He'll run away screaming if he ever sees your face, or any other part of your body, for that matter. You're not the Golden Prince anymore, you're a ghostly wraith. Parents probably tell their little elflings things like, 'be good or Legolas will get you!' or 'get to bed this instant or Legolas will come and eat you up'. You are a Ghost. Aragorn won't want to stay near you. The only reason he hasn't run away already is because he's caught in a trap that he now knows YOU set. The only reason he seems to be attracted is because your natural magic is influencing him. Stop it.//
Legolas had had his magical potential fully awakened when he had been swallowed by the Watcher. It had been driven into full power by his pain and intense panic at being inside the Watcher's stomach... along with the digested, rotting remains of the Watcher's last meals. His magic had manifested itself in a blade of light that formed in his hand, cutting open the Watcher's stomach from within. It was so much a part of him now, helping him set traps that required the strength of a giant, heating his cave, keeping the bugs away from him...
Belatedly he remembered that Aragorn had been bleeding where the rope used in the snare rubbed through his skin. //I'll bet he's covered in flies by now... I'm so inconsiderate//
Legolas went through the other traps quickly, and hurried back to his captive. To his relief, the Man had had time to cool down and was not angry with him as much as he had dreaded. Legolas suddenly noticed Aragorn's ankle. It was swelled and red. Legolas sighed.
"Your ankle is broken," Legolas said in a concerned voice. Ignoring Aragorn's protests that 'he was just fine', Legolas probed the ankle in question, sighing when he confirmed his guesses. The bone was fractured. It would only take a moment to heal with magic-
//But he could be a spy, or an imposter. Do you really want outsiders to know you can use magic like it's not a big deal? Wait and see if he can be trusted, stupid elf.//
"Um... I don't mean to intrude on your ruminations..." said Aragorn in an embarassed voice. Legolas started.
He straightened up. "You're in no condition to travel. You'll have to live in my... dwelling... until you're healed. All right?" Aragorn nodded, and Legolas was suprised to see relief and anticipation written in his features. Relief was comprehensible, but... //Anticipation?//
"It's nothing special. It's a cave, actually. Don't get your hopes up." Aragorn merely nodded. Legolas reached up catiously behind Aragorn's neck, brushing aside the locks of brown hair that covered the trigger point to release the snare. He pressed it gently, and Aragorn gasped in relief as the tension disappeared. His hands dropped to his sides like deadweights.
Legolas quickly took one of Aragorn's arms and slung it over his shoulder to support him. Not quickly enough, to Legolas's dismay, for Aragorn let out a small cry of pain.
"Are you all right?" Legolas asked in a worried voice. He did not want to ruin his impression on Aragorn any more. Aragorn smiled through gritted teeth.
"I'll be fine, Ghost. Is your cave very far?"
"No, not far. I'll have to have your help over the brook, though." Aragorn nodded, and clutched Legolas's shoulders. Legolas blushed unintentionally, wishing he could master his emotions. This was only going to hurt him, in the end, when Aragorn left him.
They made the way to the cave taking short steps, stopping every once in a while so that Aragorn could catch his breath. During the grueling walk, Legolas had plenty of time to admire the Man's determination. Aragorn never once made another sound of pain throughout the journey. However, he let out a huge sigh of relief when they reached the cave, and collapsed on the single cot. Legolas smiled at him, then went outside of the cave to gather the herbs that would aid Aragorn's healing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aragorn stared after the retreating back of the mysterious Ghost as he lay on the cot. He was beautiful, with long, golden, shimmering hair that had grown past his knees to sway gently around his calves. His clothing was a pale blue, and so was his mysterious mask, which only served to accent his beatiful, deep blue eyes.
//I want to touch him again.// He flushed and shook his head. //What am I thinking?! I am a ranger, and if I decide to raise my status I will be a King. Either station is wildly inappropriate for Ghost... at least I think it is. I don't know if he was a slave or a Lord! I wish he would tell me.// He made as if to sit up, but quickly decided not to move as he was reminded just how much his ankle hurt. He brushed his hair out of his face, and began to have a sulk.
Aragorn was startled out of his bad mood when Ghost came back with a handful of athelas plant and began to rummage around on a natural shelf set deep into the cave wall. He soon realized what Ghost was looking for when Ghost brought out a roll of bandages and six strong wands of wood, with an expression of victory on his face.
"Hold still, please," Ghost murmered, as he wrapped the bandage carefully and constucted a splint with the wooden wands and two leather cords. The Ghost sat back, satisfaction in his smile.
"There's only one bed, and you're injured, so you're sleeping in it," Ghost stated firmly, once Aragorn had tested the splint and found he could not move his foot at all. Aragorn was shocked. Ghost had found him tresspassing, but had freed him from the trap, taken him to his home, healed him, and now this?
"I'm going to feel guilty about taking your bed from you, Ghost," Aragorn said, frowning. "I can sleep on the floor-"
"But you're not going to. You need sleep for your body to heal quickly, and so you are going to sleep right where you are, whether you want to or not," Ghost said in a tone that allowed no argument. Aragorn scowled at him irritably. Ghost smirked before he continued. "And you will be staying right there for the next three days. Unless you would prefer to be carried?" Aragorn scowled even deeper, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at the ceiling.
"You wouldn't be able to carry me, anyway," he muttered under his breath. To his suprise, Ghost laughed, his musical voice pealing like silver bells.
"Good! I was half afraid you'd take me up on that offer!" He smiled at Aragorn sweetly, then got up to walk out of the cave. Aragorn acted on impulse, and called after him.
"Ghost, please stay with me. I'd like someone to talk to." Ghost rapped him on the nose.
"I'm not your nursemaid," he grumbled, sun-kissed hair brushing Aragorn's face as he leaned over him. Aragorn's pulse quickened.
"Neither are you my medic. But you chose to take care of me. My horse had been spooked by a viper, and would not be calmed. He ran and ran and ran, bucking and rearing wildly, and I was thrown off. When I awoke, I had no idea where I was, and got caught in your trap. You had no obligations towards me, and you did not know if I was telling the truth. Why did you choose to help me?" he asked quietly. Ghost froze, then stared at the ground.
"Because no healer came in time to help me," Ghost said softly. Aragorn stared at him.
"Your face... ?"
"My entire body. It scarred before a healer could stop the damage. By the time I was found, I was hideously deformed and covered in blood, not all of it my own. They didn't even know I was an elf," Ghost said in a dead voice. "They thought I was a monster." He stared down at Aragorn, blue eyes mournful and full of a great and terrible pain. "I'm hideous."
Aragorn grasped Ghost's hand firmly. "Not on the inside. You're not ugly at all on the inside. I can see that in you."
Ghost stiffened at the contact. "It doesn't matter what I look like on the outside? I find that hard to believe," he stated flatly. "No one ever bothers about my personality once they see the surface. They don't care about me. All they want is a pretty face to sigh over."
Aragorn shook his head. "You're wrong."
"I've been priven right for the past two thousand years."
"But I know not everyone's like that!" Aragorn shouted, frustration clouding his face. "I've seen men with scars all over them, and they still have friends-"
"Men, Aragorn, Men!" Ghost gazed at him unhappily. "I want to be accepted by my own kind, not just by Men!" He grew quiet once more, and the look of unbearable pain came back into his eyes. "And my own kind never shall."
"But Ghost, I can't believe you're that ugly! Take off your mask." Ghost gaped at him, mouth wide open.
"Y-you don't know what you're asking!" he finally choked. "I-"
"Please, Ghost. Let me see what you really look like, just this once," Aragorn coaxed gently. Ghost did not reply. He simply knelt there, stationary as a marble statue. Aragorn was starting to become concerned when Ghost eventually replied.
"All right, Aragorn. I will oblige, just this one time." He began to untie the pale blue cords at the nape of his neck. "But I beg of you, do not ask this of me again." Ghost took the mask in his slender fingers, and brought it slowly away from his face. In the silver light of the moon, the ravages of the past were all too starkly evident against his pale skin.
It was sickening. The flesh across his nose and cheekbones was twisted and agonized into a huge red and purple scar, with jagged edges that stretched out from the center. Across his left temple, running down across the first furrow to end underneath his right earlobe, was another scar of similar ilk. Aragorn shook in horror that someone could inflict such damage on an elf. And especially on someone as beautiful as Ghost.
It was horrible. But Aragorn had discovered who Ghost really was, and he, suprising himself, did not find Ghost's face disgusting. It was merely sad, a terrible tragedy.
Aragorn put up an unsteady hand and gently traced the scars. Ghost shook under his touch, and he shut his eyes when Aragorn's finger passed between them. Tears began to flow freely from his tightly-shut lids, creating dazzling silver drops that seemed to shine in the light of the moon. Before Aragorn could say another word, Ghost wrenched his hand out of Aragorn's grasp and fled out of the cave.
Aragorn could do nothing but reach after him.
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Legolas ran, his feet splashing through the water of the stream. He didn't stop running until he had gotten to the rim of the bowl of the valley at its steepest point, a cliff.
(A/n: Hobbit reference describes a sizable portion of Mirkwood as being in a valley. So, Legolas lives near the outskirts)
He sat down on the soft, springy moss and began to cry harder than he had ever cried before. //It isn't fair// he thought dejectedly, his heart shattered into aa thousand pieces. //The way he was staring at me, like I was a monster- He's just like everyone else! He'll never want to look at me again// A fresh paroxysm of convulsive weeping began for him, and he curled up into a ball. //He hates me. He was looking at me like I was a freak, not caring if he hurt me or not. Oh, Valar, he doesn't love me at all!// Legolas wept shamelessly, his head buried in his arms.
//I didn't mean to fall in love with him! I'm such a stupid idiot. . . I fell in love, even though I knew he'd never love me in return. Why? Why am I such a fool?// Legolas looked despairingly up at the moon, tears mixing with dirt and running down the tear-tracks on his face.
//Why do I still love him?//
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aragorn lay back on the bed, waiting for Ghost to return. He had to apologize to the elf. Aragorn was furious with himself for forgetting Ghost's feelings like he had and making him miserable. He was such aan idiot around people he cared about.
But Ghost didn't come back, and Aragorn knew he'd lost his chance for the night. Somehow, apologizing to Ghost had become his top priority.
//Wait a minute! I am a future king and Dunedain! I cannot afford to become attatched to anyone or anything// whispered a nagging voice in the back of his mind. He ignored it. The rest of him wanted very much to chase after Ghost.
//I really think I'm in love// he thought sadly to himself. //But will Ghost believe me if I tell him? Or is it too late for me?//
Finally, all of his thoughts melted away into blackness as sleep overcame him. He slept peacefully, untroubled by his waking worries, and the night passed on.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Legolas was dreaming. He stood in a field of yellow, pink, red, and white roses. They nodded their heads to him, and somehow Legolas understood that they were people. He looked down at his hands. He was carrying a golden rose, that shone out brightly as the sun.
At that moment, Legolas woke up.
He looked around him sleepily, not certain where he was. Then he recognized a twisted stump that he knew was on top of his cave, and remembered. He had walked back to the cave, and waited until Aragorn was asleep before he went in and replaced his mask.
Legolas got up and went to the brook to wash his face clean of evidence that he had been crying. //I'm alive. Is that a good thing?// he wondered miserably.
//Let me see... what will Aragorn do? He's nice, so he'll probably try to comfort me, even though he obviously is disgusted by me. I should be on my guard. I can't let him like me. He's a King, after all, and I abdicated from my place as Prince a long time ago. We're not meant to be.// Legolas sighed, looking at his submerged hands as the water ran through them.
//So why does it still hurt?//
*****tbc***** A/n: I got bored. I wrote a new chapter. And still no reviews! Please, even if you're going to say you think I ought to be burned at the stake, review! I want to know if I'm creating static or if people are reading! :) bye for now! and no more chapters until I get some reviews!
Disclaimer: Someday, when I take over the world, I'll also take over the Lord of the Rings. Until then, alas, I own nothing. Zilch. Nada.
Chapter Two: Budding Rose
Legolas stretched his arms out, yawning. Another day. He got up slowly, and cursed heavily when he saw that a rabbit had managed to get into his small garden. He suddenly fell silent, as the rabbit noticed him.
The rabbit stared at him stupidly. It had never seen an elf or a human before, and so had no idea that it was supposed to run when Legolas took out his bow and arrow quiver...
"Stupid rabbit," Legolas said, skinning it carefully so he wouldn't waste the fur. Rabbits were good; the fur was very soft, the meat was good, and the entrails were excellent for traps, both fish and otherwise.
Legolas put the entrails in a leather pouch (of rabbit skin; it was good not to mix the scents of two animals, or the more intelligent, larger carnivores would be suspicious) and tied the pouch to his belt. Taking a handful of wild nuts and dried fruit from his stores of food, and his kit of handy tools he had made, he set out to check his traps.
Walking towards the closest, which was situated in the perching area of a low branch alongside a berry bush, Legolas heard the noises of struggle and groaned. He hated it when he had to kill the animals. Guaranteed, it was a cleaner death, but he still hated killing trapped animals. They never had the chance to fight back or to flee. It was an unfair fight. The rabbit had been different. It had had a lot of opportunities to escape, and it had merely sat and waited for death. //Funny, that's what I seem to be doing myself.//
As he came in sight of his snare, Legolas gaped. What on earth-?
It was not a deer, or a bird, or a spider.
It was a Human!
Legolas was, to say the least, dumbstruck. Who in the world. . . ? He quickly nocked an arrow to his bow. If it had intruded and been caught in his trap, he had to assume it was hostile. He walked out of his coverage into the clearing, his arrow aimed at the man's throat.
When Legolas came into view, the man stopped his struggles instantly. His head and hands were both caught in the snare; that was the only thing that had saved him. The snare was set to tighten very quickly no matter what the catch did; even if it remained still. Legolas closed in on the man, going in an ever-tightening circle around him, his string still tight and ready.
The man was magnificent, a perfect specimen, an example of what mankind is supposed to be. His body, lithe and muscled, was flexed and tense. His face...
The eyes were perfectly shaped and placed, and were a beautiful stormy gray, that would turn black when he was angered. The mouth, neither too long nor too short, with an elegant curve to the edge that said the man smiled often. His jaw, smooth-shaven, was almost as sculpted as an elf's. And his hair was a deep, glossy brown, like the color of a doe's eyes. At the moment, it was dark with sweat, but Legolas put that down to his struggles to free himself. He finally completed his circuit, and let his aim drop to the forest floor.
"Who are you, to tresspass on my home?" Legolas asked sternly. The breathtaking man cleared his throat.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor. And who are you, masked stranger?" he said in a deep, commanding voice. Legolas shivered inwardly. The man's voice was intoxicating. But he kept up his stern front, refusing to let his emotions show.
"You do not have the right to ask such questions in the realm of Mirkwood, Aragorn," Legolas said, savouring the feel of the name in his mouth. "But I will humor you. I am a former citizen of Mirkwood. You can call me Ghost." Aragorn looked suprised.
"All right... Ghost," he said, clearly wanting a more detailed explaination. Legolas frowned. Aragorn did not deserve to be told yet. He had done nothing to claim his trust, and had been caught tresspassing. //Still, he is beautiful... I think I'll give him just one more humility, and then let him go.// Legolas began to walk out the other side of the clearing. Aragorn looked shocked.
"Wait, where do you think you're going?" he called after Legolas's retreating form. Legolas cocked his head back at his 'prisoner'.
"Where I was before I met you. To complete the rounds of my traps." Legolas grinned at the expression on Aragorn's face. "If there are no more of you humans taking up space in my traps, I will be in a good enough mood to come back and free you. I don't feel like setting you free just yet." Legolas forced himself to turn away from Aragorn's thunderstruck expression before he laughed, and continued walking out, ignoring the mingled threats, pleas, and promises coming from behind him.
Legolas felt slightly giddy as he strode away from his first trap. //I think I'm in love,// he thought happily, as he skipped along, somehow managing to remain silent as he passed. //He's the most wondeful, beautiful person in the world// Then a nasty thought crept in from the back of his head.
//Stupid elf. You're probably the ugliest creature in Middle-Earth, why would he be attracted to you?// Legolas stopped straight in his tracks, the thought taking his elation away like a leaf swept away in a gale. //He'll run away screaming if he ever sees your face, or any other part of your body, for that matter. You're not the Golden Prince anymore, you're a ghostly wraith. Parents probably tell their little elflings things like, 'be good or Legolas will get you!' or 'get to bed this instant or Legolas will come and eat you up'. You are a Ghost. Aragorn won't want to stay near you. The only reason he hasn't run away already is because he's caught in a trap that he now knows YOU set. The only reason he seems to be attracted is because your natural magic is influencing him. Stop it.//
Legolas had had his magical potential fully awakened when he had been swallowed by the Watcher. It had been driven into full power by his pain and intense panic at being inside the Watcher's stomach... along with the digested, rotting remains of the Watcher's last meals. His magic had manifested itself in a blade of light that formed in his hand, cutting open the Watcher's stomach from within. It was so much a part of him now, helping him set traps that required the strength of a giant, heating his cave, keeping the bugs away from him...
Belatedly he remembered that Aragorn had been bleeding where the rope used in the snare rubbed through his skin. //I'll bet he's covered in flies by now... I'm so inconsiderate//
Legolas went through the other traps quickly, and hurried back to his captive. To his relief, the Man had had time to cool down and was not angry with him as much as he had dreaded. Legolas suddenly noticed Aragorn's ankle. It was swelled and red. Legolas sighed.
"Your ankle is broken," Legolas said in a concerned voice. Ignoring Aragorn's protests that 'he was just fine', Legolas probed the ankle in question, sighing when he confirmed his guesses. The bone was fractured. It would only take a moment to heal with magic-
//But he could be a spy, or an imposter. Do you really want outsiders to know you can use magic like it's not a big deal? Wait and see if he can be trusted, stupid elf.//
"Um... I don't mean to intrude on your ruminations..." said Aragorn in an embarassed voice. Legolas started.
He straightened up. "You're in no condition to travel. You'll have to live in my... dwelling... until you're healed. All right?" Aragorn nodded, and Legolas was suprised to see relief and anticipation written in his features. Relief was comprehensible, but... //Anticipation?//
"It's nothing special. It's a cave, actually. Don't get your hopes up." Aragorn merely nodded. Legolas reached up catiously behind Aragorn's neck, brushing aside the locks of brown hair that covered the trigger point to release the snare. He pressed it gently, and Aragorn gasped in relief as the tension disappeared. His hands dropped to his sides like deadweights.
Legolas quickly took one of Aragorn's arms and slung it over his shoulder to support him. Not quickly enough, to Legolas's dismay, for Aragorn let out a small cry of pain.
"Are you all right?" Legolas asked in a worried voice. He did not want to ruin his impression on Aragorn any more. Aragorn smiled through gritted teeth.
"I'll be fine, Ghost. Is your cave very far?"
"No, not far. I'll have to have your help over the brook, though." Aragorn nodded, and clutched Legolas's shoulders. Legolas blushed unintentionally, wishing he could master his emotions. This was only going to hurt him, in the end, when Aragorn left him.
They made the way to the cave taking short steps, stopping every once in a while so that Aragorn could catch his breath. During the grueling walk, Legolas had plenty of time to admire the Man's determination. Aragorn never once made another sound of pain throughout the journey. However, he let out a huge sigh of relief when they reached the cave, and collapsed on the single cot. Legolas smiled at him, then went outside of the cave to gather the herbs that would aid Aragorn's healing.
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Aragorn stared after the retreating back of the mysterious Ghost as he lay on the cot. He was beautiful, with long, golden, shimmering hair that had grown past his knees to sway gently around his calves. His clothing was a pale blue, and so was his mysterious mask, which only served to accent his beatiful, deep blue eyes.
//I want to touch him again.// He flushed and shook his head. //What am I thinking?! I am a ranger, and if I decide to raise my status I will be a King. Either station is wildly inappropriate for Ghost... at least I think it is. I don't know if he was a slave or a Lord! I wish he would tell me.// He made as if to sit up, but quickly decided not to move as he was reminded just how much his ankle hurt. He brushed his hair out of his face, and began to have a sulk.
Aragorn was startled out of his bad mood when Ghost came back with a handful of athelas plant and began to rummage around on a natural shelf set deep into the cave wall. He soon realized what Ghost was looking for when Ghost brought out a roll of bandages and six strong wands of wood, with an expression of victory on his face.
"Hold still, please," Ghost murmered, as he wrapped the bandage carefully and constucted a splint with the wooden wands and two leather cords. The Ghost sat back, satisfaction in his smile.
"There's only one bed, and you're injured, so you're sleeping in it," Ghost stated firmly, once Aragorn had tested the splint and found he could not move his foot at all. Aragorn was shocked. Ghost had found him tresspassing, but had freed him from the trap, taken him to his home, healed him, and now this?
"I'm going to feel guilty about taking your bed from you, Ghost," Aragorn said, frowning. "I can sleep on the floor-"
"But you're not going to. You need sleep for your body to heal quickly, and so you are going to sleep right where you are, whether you want to or not," Ghost said in a tone that allowed no argument. Aragorn scowled at him irritably. Ghost smirked before he continued. "And you will be staying right there for the next three days. Unless you would prefer to be carried?" Aragorn scowled even deeper, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at the ceiling.
"You wouldn't be able to carry me, anyway," he muttered under his breath. To his suprise, Ghost laughed, his musical voice pealing like silver bells.
"Good! I was half afraid you'd take me up on that offer!" He smiled at Aragorn sweetly, then got up to walk out of the cave. Aragorn acted on impulse, and called after him.
"Ghost, please stay with me. I'd like someone to talk to." Ghost rapped him on the nose.
"I'm not your nursemaid," he grumbled, sun-kissed hair brushing Aragorn's face as he leaned over him. Aragorn's pulse quickened.
"Neither are you my medic. But you chose to take care of me. My horse had been spooked by a viper, and would not be calmed. He ran and ran and ran, bucking and rearing wildly, and I was thrown off. When I awoke, I had no idea where I was, and got caught in your trap. You had no obligations towards me, and you did not know if I was telling the truth. Why did you choose to help me?" he asked quietly. Ghost froze, then stared at the ground.
"Because no healer came in time to help me," Ghost said softly. Aragorn stared at him.
"Your face... ?"
"My entire body. It scarred before a healer could stop the damage. By the time I was found, I was hideously deformed and covered in blood, not all of it my own. They didn't even know I was an elf," Ghost said in a dead voice. "They thought I was a monster." He stared down at Aragorn, blue eyes mournful and full of a great and terrible pain. "I'm hideous."
Aragorn grasped Ghost's hand firmly. "Not on the inside. You're not ugly at all on the inside. I can see that in you."
Ghost stiffened at the contact. "It doesn't matter what I look like on the outside? I find that hard to believe," he stated flatly. "No one ever bothers about my personality once they see the surface. They don't care about me. All they want is a pretty face to sigh over."
Aragorn shook his head. "You're wrong."
"I've been priven right for the past two thousand years."
"But I know not everyone's like that!" Aragorn shouted, frustration clouding his face. "I've seen men with scars all over them, and they still have friends-"
"Men, Aragorn, Men!" Ghost gazed at him unhappily. "I want to be accepted by my own kind, not just by Men!" He grew quiet once more, and the look of unbearable pain came back into his eyes. "And my own kind never shall."
"But Ghost, I can't believe you're that ugly! Take off your mask." Ghost gaped at him, mouth wide open.
"Y-you don't know what you're asking!" he finally choked. "I-"
"Please, Ghost. Let me see what you really look like, just this once," Aragorn coaxed gently. Ghost did not reply. He simply knelt there, stationary as a marble statue. Aragorn was starting to become concerned when Ghost eventually replied.
"All right, Aragorn. I will oblige, just this one time." He began to untie the pale blue cords at the nape of his neck. "But I beg of you, do not ask this of me again." Ghost took the mask in his slender fingers, and brought it slowly away from his face. In the silver light of the moon, the ravages of the past were all too starkly evident against his pale skin.
It was sickening. The flesh across his nose and cheekbones was twisted and agonized into a huge red and purple scar, with jagged edges that stretched out from the center. Across his left temple, running down across the first furrow to end underneath his right earlobe, was another scar of similar ilk. Aragorn shook in horror that someone could inflict such damage on an elf. And especially on someone as beautiful as Ghost.
It was horrible. But Aragorn had discovered who Ghost really was, and he, suprising himself, did not find Ghost's face disgusting. It was merely sad, a terrible tragedy.
Aragorn put up an unsteady hand and gently traced the scars. Ghost shook under his touch, and he shut his eyes when Aragorn's finger passed between them. Tears began to flow freely from his tightly-shut lids, creating dazzling silver drops that seemed to shine in the light of the moon. Before Aragorn could say another word, Ghost wrenched his hand out of Aragorn's grasp and fled out of the cave.
Aragorn could do nothing but reach after him.
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Legolas ran, his feet splashing through the water of the stream. He didn't stop running until he had gotten to the rim of the bowl of the valley at its steepest point, a cliff.
(A/n: Hobbit reference describes a sizable portion of Mirkwood as being in a valley. So, Legolas lives near the outskirts)
He sat down on the soft, springy moss and began to cry harder than he had ever cried before. //It isn't fair// he thought dejectedly, his heart shattered into aa thousand pieces. //The way he was staring at me, like I was a monster- He's just like everyone else! He'll never want to look at me again// A fresh paroxysm of convulsive weeping began for him, and he curled up into a ball. //He hates me. He was looking at me like I was a freak, not caring if he hurt me or not. Oh, Valar, he doesn't love me at all!// Legolas wept shamelessly, his head buried in his arms.
//I didn't mean to fall in love with him! I'm such a stupid idiot. . . I fell in love, even though I knew he'd never love me in return. Why? Why am I such a fool?// Legolas looked despairingly up at the moon, tears mixing with dirt and running down the tear-tracks on his face.
//Why do I still love him?//
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Aragorn lay back on the bed, waiting for Ghost to return. He had to apologize to the elf. Aragorn was furious with himself for forgetting Ghost's feelings like he had and making him miserable. He was such aan idiot around people he cared about.
But Ghost didn't come back, and Aragorn knew he'd lost his chance for the night. Somehow, apologizing to Ghost had become his top priority.
//Wait a minute! I am a future king and Dunedain! I cannot afford to become attatched to anyone or anything// whispered a nagging voice in the back of his mind. He ignored it. The rest of him wanted very much to chase after Ghost.
//I really think I'm in love// he thought sadly to himself. //But will Ghost believe me if I tell him? Or is it too late for me?//
Finally, all of his thoughts melted away into blackness as sleep overcame him. He slept peacefully, untroubled by his waking worries, and the night passed on.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Legolas was dreaming. He stood in a field of yellow, pink, red, and white roses. They nodded their heads to him, and somehow Legolas understood that they were people. He looked down at his hands. He was carrying a golden rose, that shone out brightly as the sun.
At that moment, Legolas woke up.
He looked around him sleepily, not certain where he was. Then he recognized a twisted stump that he knew was on top of his cave, and remembered. He had walked back to the cave, and waited until Aragorn was asleep before he went in and replaced his mask.
Legolas got up and went to the brook to wash his face clean of evidence that he had been crying. //I'm alive. Is that a good thing?// he wondered miserably.
//Let me see... what will Aragorn do? He's nice, so he'll probably try to comfort me, even though he obviously is disgusted by me. I should be on my guard. I can't let him like me. He's a King, after all, and I abdicated from my place as Prince a long time ago. We're not meant to be.// Legolas sighed, looking at his submerged hands as the water ran through them.
//So why does it still hurt?//
*****tbc***** A/n: I got bored. I wrote a new chapter. And still no reviews! Please, even if you're going to say you think I ought to be burned at the stake, review! I want to know if I'm creating static or if people are reading! :) bye for now! and no more chapters until I get some reviews!