Disclaimer: Tirdin, Vanamírë, and Nifien all belong to me! NOTHING
ELSE!
A/N: I AM SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! But after all that homework I was talking about last time, there are finals, and there was studying, and I had a bit of a brain block for this chapter, and just everything! I also started writing my own original angsty fantasy, which is so bloody complicated it confuses me, but it's bound to be good. (But don't look for it on fictionpress. It is something I hope to get published someday and therefore am not posting it due to fear of plagiarism). But school ended today, and the summer is here! So hopefully the waits will not be so long! And I am sorry for the shortness, but I think I stopped at a good spot. Kind of a transition, foreshadowy chapter, but sure. Just be happy I posted at all!
* * *
"He knows now, does he?"
"Aye."
Celeborn sighed. "I don't know how he can stand everything that has happened to him."
"He is unbelievably strong inside. But he is damaged . . .he will need to accept his weakness and accept help from others before he can win against everything."
Celeborn grinned slightly. "He got that pride from his father."
Reflective silence hung in the air for a moment. "How long will it take for his body to heal, do you think?"
Celeborn thought for a moment. "I couldn't tell you for certain, I am not a healer. But it will take a longer time for his leg to recover." Haldir nodded in acknowledgement to this. "Has he spoken of any of the things he was put through?"
Haldir shook his head. "No. And I do not wish to probe them out of him. He will speak of it when he is ready, but we cannot make him tell us sooner than that. That subject is especially sensitive. And I expect it was not only the physical things done to him, but it is what was put through his mind that shall ail him longest." Then he added almost like a thought to himself: " . . .And I fear it is his spirit that has suffered most, and yet still has most to endure."
Celeborn placed his hand on Haldir's shoulder. "I see how much you care for and fear for Legolas. But I warn you not to let Legolas see that. His pride is something that has probably been broken in Saruman's presence, and that would injure him further."
Haldir's shoulders slumped in quiet frustration. "I know."
"But it is just your kind of care and love that shall be most crucial to his recovery. Do not despair on your friend, for I know that the times ahead will make us all feel a little betrayed and unappreciated. Do not be fooled by that. He needs you more than you or him realize."
* * *
Silent silver tears streamed down Legolas' face. He wanted so much to move, and run through the trees. Sorrow made him restless. In his days as a child, when his mother had died, he had stayed in the woods away from the palace for days, and it had calmed his grieving soul. Even if the palace was in the forest, it wasn't the same as actually sitting on a tree limb, or feeling the branches tug at you when you ran. When he was alone, he could hear the trees whisper, and he could mourn with them.
But instead he was confined to this bed, and even if he dared to try and walk, or even stand, he knew he would collapse and only disturb his healing wounds.
{Why did he have to die for me?}
The bond between Legolas and Thranduil had always been one of the strongest known to elves. They were the other's best friends more than father and son. Each had something the other had not, and each fulfilled the other of that gap that always exists, that one never quite notices until it has been filled.
{I was not - am not - worth that price.}
When Legolas' mother, Vanamírë, passed away, even though Legolas had fled in grief, he had returned and he and Thranduil found comfort in each other, letting tears flow that neither would have allowed any other to see.
{Why did he do that . . .?}
Who would he cry to now?
Legolas rolled to his side and stared out at the Lothlorien elves, chatting with each other, laughing, chasing each other playfully through the branches and undergrowth. Suddenly, this made him remember his brother.
Tirdin, the younger one. The silent one. The watching one.
They had always been so different. An agreement could rarely be made between the two, and neither had much interest in the other. Legolas would find company in the other young elves of Mirkwood. Now that he thought of it, he had never known if Tirdin had had any friends . . .he had never noticed him hanging around with anyone.
A sudden wave of guilt passed over him. He turned back over and looked away from the frolicking elves.
"Prince Legolas . . .?"
Startled, Legolas quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. He raised himself with his hands and looked over at the {intruder} visitor.
He felt himself slump, somewhere between relief and annoyance, as he saw whom it was. "Don't address me as that, Nifien," he sighed. "Just Legolas."
"Okay." She was unusually quiet, he noted; her voice hushed and her eyes lowered. She made her way to Legolas' bedside, and sat delicately on the blanketed mattress.
A moment of awkward silence passed between them.
"Do you know about-"
"Yes." Legolas' voice came harsher than he had intended.
"I've never known that kind of love." Now Legolas noticed how near tears she was. "Not even seen it. I never thought it was possible for someone to love another that much. Not enough to die . . ."
"Can we please not talk about this?"
Nifien hung her head. "Sorry," she mumbled, and sat for a moment. Then she rose, and turned back the way she came. She muttered something that only Legolas' sharp ears could pick up.
"I'm not that great with people. I haven't been around them much."
He waited until she was well out of hearing range.
Legolas slammed his face into his pillow and let out a long, stifled cry of stupendous frustration. He hugged the pillow closely to his face, shouting and yelling and crying and screaming at himself, pounding the pillow as if it were himself, pounding it ruthlessly and ripping it, tearing it with his nails.
{WHY MUST I HURT EVERYONE I KNOW?!}
* * *
Okay, I am sorry if that last bit wasn't exactly Legolas-like, but you have to consider everything he's been through! His spirit is broken and he's so confused by everything that's going on. But yes. Oh, and Tirdin means silent watcher and Vanamírë means beautiful jewel.
Lia Strife: And I salute you, as you are the only one who reviewed chapter 20! GO YOU!
MORE PEOPLE PLEEEEEEEEEASE REVIEW! I LOVE YOU ALL! *whines and begs and pouts *
Heh.
But seriously . . .
~Searcher of Souls~
A/N: I AM SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! But after all that homework I was talking about last time, there are finals, and there was studying, and I had a bit of a brain block for this chapter, and just everything! I also started writing my own original angsty fantasy, which is so bloody complicated it confuses me, but it's bound to be good. (But don't look for it on fictionpress. It is something I hope to get published someday and therefore am not posting it due to fear of plagiarism). But school ended today, and the summer is here! So hopefully the waits will not be so long! And I am sorry for the shortness, but I think I stopped at a good spot. Kind of a transition, foreshadowy chapter, but sure. Just be happy I posted at all!
* * *
"He knows now, does he?"
"Aye."
Celeborn sighed. "I don't know how he can stand everything that has happened to him."
"He is unbelievably strong inside. But he is damaged . . .he will need to accept his weakness and accept help from others before he can win against everything."
Celeborn grinned slightly. "He got that pride from his father."
Reflective silence hung in the air for a moment. "How long will it take for his body to heal, do you think?"
Celeborn thought for a moment. "I couldn't tell you for certain, I am not a healer. But it will take a longer time for his leg to recover." Haldir nodded in acknowledgement to this. "Has he spoken of any of the things he was put through?"
Haldir shook his head. "No. And I do not wish to probe them out of him. He will speak of it when he is ready, but we cannot make him tell us sooner than that. That subject is especially sensitive. And I expect it was not only the physical things done to him, but it is what was put through his mind that shall ail him longest." Then he added almost like a thought to himself: " . . .And I fear it is his spirit that has suffered most, and yet still has most to endure."
Celeborn placed his hand on Haldir's shoulder. "I see how much you care for and fear for Legolas. But I warn you not to let Legolas see that. His pride is something that has probably been broken in Saruman's presence, and that would injure him further."
Haldir's shoulders slumped in quiet frustration. "I know."
"But it is just your kind of care and love that shall be most crucial to his recovery. Do not despair on your friend, for I know that the times ahead will make us all feel a little betrayed and unappreciated. Do not be fooled by that. He needs you more than you or him realize."
* * *
Silent silver tears streamed down Legolas' face. He wanted so much to move, and run through the trees. Sorrow made him restless. In his days as a child, when his mother had died, he had stayed in the woods away from the palace for days, and it had calmed his grieving soul. Even if the palace was in the forest, it wasn't the same as actually sitting on a tree limb, or feeling the branches tug at you when you ran. When he was alone, he could hear the trees whisper, and he could mourn with them.
But instead he was confined to this bed, and even if he dared to try and walk, or even stand, he knew he would collapse and only disturb his healing wounds.
{Why did he have to die for me?}
The bond between Legolas and Thranduil had always been one of the strongest known to elves. They were the other's best friends more than father and son. Each had something the other had not, and each fulfilled the other of that gap that always exists, that one never quite notices until it has been filled.
{I was not - am not - worth that price.}
When Legolas' mother, Vanamírë, passed away, even though Legolas had fled in grief, he had returned and he and Thranduil found comfort in each other, letting tears flow that neither would have allowed any other to see.
{Why did he do that . . .?}
Who would he cry to now?
Legolas rolled to his side and stared out at the Lothlorien elves, chatting with each other, laughing, chasing each other playfully through the branches and undergrowth. Suddenly, this made him remember his brother.
Tirdin, the younger one. The silent one. The watching one.
They had always been so different. An agreement could rarely be made between the two, and neither had much interest in the other. Legolas would find company in the other young elves of Mirkwood. Now that he thought of it, he had never known if Tirdin had had any friends . . .he had never noticed him hanging around with anyone.
A sudden wave of guilt passed over him. He turned back over and looked away from the frolicking elves.
"Prince Legolas . . .?"
Startled, Legolas quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. He raised himself with his hands and looked over at the {intruder} visitor.
He felt himself slump, somewhere between relief and annoyance, as he saw whom it was. "Don't address me as that, Nifien," he sighed. "Just Legolas."
"Okay." She was unusually quiet, he noted; her voice hushed and her eyes lowered. She made her way to Legolas' bedside, and sat delicately on the blanketed mattress.
A moment of awkward silence passed between them.
"Do you know about-"
"Yes." Legolas' voice came harsher than he had intended.
"I've never known that kind of love." Now Legolas noticed how near tears she was. "Not even seen it. I never thought it was possible for someone to love another that much. Not enough to die . . ."
"Can we please not talk about this?"
Nifien hung her head. "Sorry," she mumbled, and sat for a moment. Then she rose, and turned back the way she came. She muttered something that only Legolas' sharp ears could pick up.
"I'm not that great with people. I haven't been around them much."
He waited until she was well out of hearing range.
Legolas slammed his face into his pillow and let out a long, stifled cry of stupendous frustration. He hugged the pillow closely to his face, shouting and yelling and crying and screaming at himself, pounding the pillow as if it were himself, pounding it ruthlessly and ripping it, tearing it with his nails.
{WHY MUST I HURT EVERYONE I KNOW?!}
* * *
Okay, I am sorry if that last bit wasn't exactly Legolas-like, but you have to consider everything he's been through! His spirit is broken and he's so confused by everything that's going on. But yes. Oh, and Tirdin means silent watcher and Vanamírë means beautiful jewel.
Lia Strife: And I salute you, as you are the only one who reviewed chapter 20! GO YOU!
MORE PEOPLE PLEEEEEEEEEASE REVIEW! I LOVE YOU ALL! *whines and begs and pouts *
Heh.
But seriously . . .
~Searcher of Souls~