A/N: Wheeee!!! Chapter 4! Finally! Sorry for the wait, but I think it's all
right.Have fun and please review! ^_^
WARNING: The following text contains some dark themes and may not be suitable for those under 13. Read at your own risk.
~*~
Chapter 4
Legolas sat against the wall on the floor in his room. The light did not touch him and he sat in shadow. Other than the occasional whimper and sniffle, he made no other sign that he wept. Yet he did. Indeed, he did. Tears flooded from his eyes, tears he could resist no longer. They blurred his vision, stung and burned, left pale streaks across his already snow-white face and caused his cheeks to be warm and damp. He felt as if he could collapse on the floor in tears and moan with grief. His sorrow was unreal in its depth and intensity. He felt so hollow, and yet the aching in his chest filled him. He felt so cold, so alone, as if he were existing in the black void and he could feel the solitude upon his flesh. He wanted Aragorn. He wanted to feel his best friend hold him and fill the void, warm the cold, love him, cradle him, dry his tears. He wanted to feel the king of Gondor allow him to feel again instead of being left numb. Legolas whimpered, fighting to remain soundless. He needed Aragorn so badly. He felt himself dying and would have cried out for his mortal brother if not for the fact he wanted not to be heard. He sobbed and wept, bowing his head to his chest as he wrapped his arms around himself. His heart was breaking, racing, already wounded, bleeding. The rest of him was dead, empty, numb. His soul cried out for solace. He felt so alone, hopeless, sinking into his own despair. His slender hands slipped to the floor and took hold of the ranger's cloak that had been at his feet. He pulled it up around himself, burying his face in it, releasing his tears, his moans into it, smelling joy in it, touching it in desperation to feel. His hands were so cold, he could barely move his fingers. Arwen would have kissed them, along with Eowyn. Faramir would have taken him by his wrists and looked into his eyes asking what was wrong. Gimli would have clasped one of those hands in his own, reassuring their friendship. Eomer would have down the same. Aragorn would have taken both those hands in his own, bowing his head to them, holding them until they warm one more. But no one was there to warm them now. No one was there to hold him. He was left numb.
Legolas couldn't handle it any longer. He could not endure another moment of this pain, this turmoil. He must bring life back to his fingers, to his soul. He must release the darkness and cold from within. He had to save himself.
// Wake me up inside //
The Elf crawled, dragging himself across the floor to where the door was, were his weapons were hung on the wall. He reached up and pulled them to the floor with only a thud. From its sheath, he pulled on of his Elven blades, gleaming sharply and clean. He took that dagger back across the room and sat once more where he had been before. He pushed Aragorn's cloak onto the bed and shivered. For a while, he stared fixedly at the knife in his palms, looking into the empty windows of his own eyes. He no longer wept, save for a few stray tears. He inhaled decidedly and took up his dagger. Up came his right sleeve and he lay the cold steel to his pale flesh at an angle, shuddering as it touched him. He closed his eyes and did not feel his hand pull back slowly, only the sensation in his forearm. He opened them again to see the slit in his skin, with his own scarlet blood rising up from the self-inflicted wound. Strangely,as he had believed, he felt a wave of comfort wash over him. He swiftly lifted his other sleeve and brought the knife across his flesh, drawing blood in the same moment. Again, relief flowed through him. He lay the dagger by his side, the crimson blood still upon the otherwise clean steel. Blood spilled onto the floor, flowing freely from his wounds. He sat there serenely and let himself bleed.
// Wake me up inside //
" Legolas ", Eowyn called. Where was the Elf today? He hadn't come out of his room at all. She worried for him, that he sunk deeper into this mood. The Lady of Ithilien strode rapidly through the halls, moving in and out of the shadows and the streams of light that the windows brought. She held up the skirts of her dress just so they brushed the floor, and her long, golden hair lifted with her speed. Eowyn stopped for a moment at a corner, as if listening for something. Silence answered her. She nibbled her lip in agitation before continuing on, nearing the Elf's room with each step. The door was shut, as usual. A sense of foreboding grew in her as she got closer. She didn't know why. The White Lady finally stood at the door, lifting her hand tentatively to the doorknob. She knocked lightly.
" Legolas? " she called quietly. " Are you asleep? " She was given no reply. For a tense moment, she waited in silence, listening closely for any sound behind the door. Finally, he impatience won over and she slowly pushed the door open. What she found nearly made her heart stop in her chest in shock.
The Elf lifted his head to look at his new visitor and gave a weak grin, one that disturbed Eowyn, as if she weren't already disturbed enough. Legolas was just sitting there on the floor, his back to the wall and his arms limp at his sides. Blood pooled around him, more blood than she had ever seen in one place, even in the war. She gasped sharply and stepped back in horror with a stifled cry. He was still looking at her calmly.
// Call my name and save me from the dark //
" Legolas ", she uttered shakily. " Oh, my God." She was trembling now in turmoil. She could hardly move as she stared in terrorized fixation at the Elf across the room. She didn't know what to do.
" Faramir ", she screamed. " Faramir. " Her voice rang out in the empty halls, until the Prince of Ithilien heard his beloved wife in his study, his head snapping up. He was visibly alarmed, for he had never heard Eowyn scream like that. Immediately, he arose and began to run, following the sound of Eowyn's voice. He slowed when he was within yards of her, watching her slowly back away from the doorway of Legolas' room, panting in terror. A flummoxed expression crossed his face, before he went to her.
" Eowyn ", he said. " What is it? What causes you distress? " he questioned, taking her by the shoulders. She didn't answer her husband, only shook her head with eyes wider than he had ever seen them. She was looking past him. Faramir turned, following her gaze..and his own eyes widened in horror and shock as he met his wife's terror. Legolas was framed in the doorway, in a picture of crimson chaos. Faramir let go of Eowyn and dashed to his Elf friend, ignoring the puddle of blood that surrounded Legolas. He knelt beside him, looking him over.
" Blessed Eru ", he gasped. From the waist down, the Elf's garments were damp and stained with blood, the slits in his pale forearms visible. The archer was calm, barely moving. He was unnaturally pale, paler than Eowyn, paler than he was typically. Paler than he should be. His lips were tinged in blue, his eyes glassy as they stared into nothing. Faramir was lost for words.
" Legolas ", he breathed. " What have you done? "
// Bid my blood to run, before I come undone //
" I'm not cold anymore, Faramir ", Legolas murmured wearily. He paused and looked up at the man. " I can feel ", he whispered. Faramir was only further disturbed the Elf's words. He gathered himself, made himself come to his senses. He took the Elf by the shoulders firmly.
" Legolas, how long have you been sitting here? ", he queried sternly, yet frantically. The Elf only looked at him wordlessly for a moment, barely shaking his head.
" My fingers aren't numb anymore, Faramir ", he said.
The Prince of Ithilien looked to his wife helplessly, only to see that she was still frozen in fear. He then turned his attention back to the Elf and gathered him in his arms. He picked Legolas up off the ground, not caring that his own clothing was now being stained with the Elf's blood. One of the servants came unto Eowyn at that moment.
" Milady? " the elderly woman said. She looked to where her mistress was and gave a small jump of surprise at the sight. Faramir swiftly brushed past her, holding Legolas in his arms.
" Clean up the floor ", he murmured to her as he left the two women. There was no time to lose.
Faramir rushed down the corridor and the halls, making his way toward the healing ward. Legolas was limp in his arms, his fair head tipped back. His eyes closed and opened sporadically, as he lingered on the brink of unconsciousness. The Elf moaned as a stray tear escaped him.
" Aragorn ", he whimpered as the doors burst open and Faramir yelled for a healer. One came to attendance as the man who carried the Elf lay Legolas on the nearest bed. " Aragorn ", the archer moaned again. He didn't feel himself weeping. The relief of the blades had fled, and he felt cold and alone once again. Legolas' blue eyes fluttered before closing as he let go and slipped into unconsciousness, the noise of Faramir and the healer around him fading away.
// Save me from the nothing I've become //
When Legolas awoke, he found himself lying in a bed near a window, the pale, golden light of late afternoon shining in ahead of him. He felt unnaturally weak and vulnerable, a feeling he loathed. He was not in his room, but in the far corner of the healing ward, he realized. His forearms were tightly wrapped in bandages for some reason. How strange this all is, he thought to himself as he attempted to sit up in bed. The Elf was alone in the large room, with exception of one of the healers who was working on the other side. He sat still and looked around, until the Lady Eowyn floated in soundlessly, speaking to the healer shortly. He couldn't hear their words and only watched. After a while, both the healer and the White Lady turned their heads to look straight at him. The way they eyed him made him feel uneasy. What was going on?
Eowyn began to approach him slowly, walking down an aisle between the beds in the center of the room and the ones against the left wall. She looked as beautiful as any Elf of the Golden Wood, he thought to himself. She might even be taken for the Lady Galadriel's daughter. She did not look too different from Celebrian, come to think of it. Legolas remembered the Lady of Imladris, wife of Lord Elrond. Her husband was raven-haired, as were her sons, the twins and Legolas' close friends, and her only daughter the Evenstar who resembled Luthien the Fair. Yet the Lady Celebrian had been golden haired as her parents and people, the only one in her family. The Lady resided in Valinor now. Legolas suspected she was content there, now that Elrond and Galadriel had sailed away too. The twins and Arwen remained, however. Undomiel would stay in Middle Earth, that was certain. Yet Legolas wondered if the twins, Elladan and Elrohir, would sail or not. That choice was yet before them. He loved them both dearly and was glad in his heart they lingered for now. But would they think of him now?
The archer had remembered why he was here in the healing ward, why his forearms were wrapped. The last thing Legolas wanted to do was face anyone. But as much as he wanted that, the White lady of Rohan and Ithilien came unto him now, a sad and pitying expression upon her face. She reached him without a word and sat on the edge of the bed, facing him.
" You have awakened ", she said, stating the obvious. He didn't know what to say. Her eyes wandered astray for a quiet moment. She looked up at him with her own pale, blue eyes.
" We're sending you to Minas Tirith ", she told him as his head snapped up alertly, " To the king Elessar."
Legolas did not answer nor reveal his feelings on this new matter, yet inside his heart was overflowing with the rivers of joy. He did not fail, however, in concealing his jubilance with the skill he had. He gave Eowyn a small smile, making her breath catch in her chest. It seemed like it had been ages since she last saw that smile.
" Thank you, milady ", he said quietly. She only stared it him with glassy eyes, seeming as if she might begin to weep. Eowyn wept, like Legolas and Aragorn and every other warrior. Warriors, soldiers, they wept. They did not cry. She gave slight nod before turning away from him and rising from the bed. For a moment, she only stood with her back to him, and he did not see her cobalt eyes stray and shine.Eowyn stepped away and left the Elf without another word.
Eowyn couldn't believe she had not seen that his condition was this serious. He had nearly died, she whispered to herself in her mind. The White Lady went on her way back to her chambers, trying to put the Elf's troubling state out of her mind and failing.
// All this time I can't believe I couldn't see Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me //
Legolas let himself slide back down onto the bed, lying with his lambent eyes open in thought. His anticipation was nearly too much to contain. He would see his best friend again. He would see once again see the Lady Arwen, one of his oldest friends, and little Eldarion, his godson. He was returning to Minas Tirith. But what would they think of him once they discovered what he had done to himself? The Elf suppressed a groan. He could imagine that look Aragorn would give him and Arwen too, the concern and the questioning. He sighed. Well, it was all his doing after all. But all the unpleasentries were diminished in light of the fact that he would be with them again. He would know joy again. Or at least that was his hope.
// I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems
Got to open my eyes to everything //
~*~
The archer drifted back to sleep, only to be trapped in a nightmare. Another nightmare. The remnants of a battlefield surrounded him, a blur of gray and black, smoke and ash. He lay on the ground, cupping his hands to his belly, nursing a wound. He bled freely and was alone. His eyes, now gray mirroring the dream instead of blue life, searched around him for anyone to help him. He didn't want to be alone.
" What have you done? " came a disembodied voice, almost shrieking. Without warning, an arrow struck him in the back. He threw his head back and arched on impact. Strangely, the arrow dissolved into dust, but the wound remained.
" How disturbed are you, suicidal Elf? ", it came again. Another arrow, another wound.
" You are alone ", it hissed quietly. This time one pierced his chest. Ash. Blood.
" Numb ", it said. The last arrow seemed to pierce his heart, vanishing into ashes. Legolas arched back once more, unable to cry out in pain. He stared up into the ebony clouded sky with glazed eyes as he slowly fell back. Yet before he met the ground, Aragorn came to him. The man hovered over him like a phantom, both the beings inhaling sharply in unison. Everything froze.
The prince floated just above ground, staring up into the gray eyes of his mortal brother. They delved into his soul, glassy pools, as he heard himself panting.
" Estel ", he breathed. The ranger stroked back over the Elf's head with both hands, before laying his lips gently on Legolas' brow. The Elf was covered in blood he could not see. He breathed fast, hard, in panic because he could not feel. The ranger lifted away, not hearing the Elf's cries and pleas for him to stay.
// Don't let me die here, there must be something more.//
Aragorn bolted up in bed, panting and sweating. He had dreamed of Legolas. The Elf needed him. Why the hell had he left Legolas? Damn. The archer was dying by himself. The ranger must return to him. Elessar breathed rapidly, haunted by his nightmare. Arwen stirred beside him and awoke as well, sensing her husband's distress. She sat up as well, laying a tender hand on his shoulder.
// " Melethnin " //, she called him in her beautiful voice. //My love.// " What troubles you? "
" Something is wrong with Legolas. I dreamt of him ", he answered, before turning to his beloved wife with turmoil in his eyes. " He needs me, Arwen. He'll die if I do not help him. "
Both the king and queen of Gondor thought of the distressed letter that they had received the morning before from Eowyn. Aragorn was too preoccupied at the moment to be called away, much to his frustration.
" I cannot lose him, Undomiel ", he whispered with tears laced into his voice, tears of paralyzing fear. Arwen looked upon him with understanding and equal concern. She took her beloved in her arms, consoling him as she stroked his raven hair and held him in her lap.
" Our Greenleaf will not be lost, Elessar ", she murmured reassuringly, hoping with all her heart that she was right.
// Bring Me To Life //
WARNING: The following text contains some dark themes and may not be suitable for those under 13. Read at your own risk.
~*~
Chapter 4
Legolas sat against the wall on the floor in his room. The light did not touch him and he sat in shadow. Other than the occasional whimper and sniffle, he made no other sign that he wept. Yet he did. Indeed, he did. Tears flooded from his eyes, tears he could resist no longer. They blurred his vision, stung and burned, left pale streaks across his already snow-white face and caused his cheeks to be warm and damp. He felt as if he could collapse on the floor in tears and moan with grief. His sorrow was unreal in its depth and intensity. He felt so hollow, and yet the aching in his chest filled him. He felt so cold, so alone, as if he were existing in the black void and he could feel the solitude upon his flesh. He wanted Aragorn. He wanted to feel his best friend hold him and fill the void, warm the cold, love him, cradle him, dry his tears. He wanted to feel the king of Gondor allow him to feel again instead of being left numb. Legolas whimpered, fighting to remain soundless. He needed Aragorn so badly. He felt himself dying and would have cried out for his mortal brother if not for the fact he wanted not to be heard. He sobbed and wept, bowing his head to his chest as he wrapped his arms around himself. His heart was breaking, racing, already wounded, bleeding. The rest of him was dead, empty, numb. His soul cried out for solace. He felt so alone, hopeless, sinking into his own despair. His slender hands slipped to the floor and took hold of the ranger's cloak that had been at his feet. He pulled it up around himself, burying his face in it, releasing his tears, his moans into it, smelling joy in it, touching it in desperation to feel. His hands were so cold, he could barely move his fingers. Arwen would have kissed them, along with Eowyn. Faramir would have taken him by his wrists and looked into his eyes asking what was wrong. Gimli would have clasped one of those hands in his own, reassuring their friendship. Eomer would have down the same. Aragorn would have taken both those hands in his own, bowing his head to them, holding them until they warm one more. But no one was there to warm them now. No one was there to hold him. He was left numb.
Legolas couldn't handle it any longer. He could not endure another moment of this pain, this turmoil. He must bring life back to his fingers, to his soul. He must release the darkness and cold from within. He had to save himself.
// Wake me up inside //
The Elf crawled, dragging himself across the floor to where the door was, were his weapons were hung on the wall. He reached up and pulled them to the floor with only a thud. From its sheath, he pulled on of his Elven blades, gleaming sharply and clean. He took that dagger back across the room and sat once more where he had been before. He pushed Aragorn's cloak onto the bed and shivered. For a while, he stared fixedly at the knife in his palms, looking into the empty windows of his own eyes. He no longer wept, save for a few stray tears. He inhaled decidedly and took up his dagger. Up came his right sleeve and he lay the cold steel to his pale flesh at an angle, shuddering as it touched him. He closed his eyes and did not feel his hand pull back slowly, only the sensation in his forearm. He opened them again to see the slit in his skin, with his own scarlet blood rising up from the self-inflicted wound. Strangely,as he had believed, he felt a wave of comfort wash over him. He swiftly lifted his other sleeve and brought the knife across his flesh, drawing blood in the same moment. Again, relief flowed through him. He lay the dagger by his side, the crimson blood still upon the otherwise clean steel. Blood spilled onto the floor, flowing freely from his wounds. He sat there serenely and let himself bleed.
// Wake me up inside //
" Legolas ", Eowyn called. Where was the Elf today? He hadn't come out of his room at all. She worried for him, that he sunk deeper into this mood. The Lady of Ithilien strode rapidly through the halls, moving in and out of the shadows and the streams of light that the windows brought. She held up the skirts of her dress just so they brushed the floor, and her long, golden hair lifted with her speed. Eowyn stopped for a moment at a corner, as if listening for something. Silence answered her. She nibbled her lip in agitation before continuing on, nearing the Elf's room with each step. The door was shut, as usual. A sense of foreboding grew in her as she got closer. She didn't know why. The White Lady finally stood at the door, lifting her hand tentatively to the doorknob. She knocked lightly.
" Legolas? " she called quietly. " Are you asleep? " She was given no reply. For a tense moment, she waited in silence, listening closely for any sound behind the door. Finally, he impatience won over and she slowly pushed the door open. What she found nearly made her heart stop in her chest in shock.
The Elf lifted his head to look at his new visitor and gave a weak grin, one that disturbed Eowyn, as if she weren't already disturbed enough. Legolas was just sitting there on the floor, his back to the wall and his arms limp at his sides. Blood pooled around him, more blood than she had ever seen in one place, even in the war. She gasped sharply and stepped back in horror with a stifled cry. He was still looking at her calmly.
// Call my name and save me from the dark //
" Legolas ", she uttered shakily. " Oh, my God." She was trembling now in turmoil. She could hardly move as she stared in terrorized fixation at the Elf across the room. She didn't know what to do.
" Faramir ", she screamed. " Faramir. " Her voice rang out in the empty halls, until the Prince of Ithilien heard his beloved wife in his study, his head snapping up. He was visibly alarmed, for he had never heard Eowyn scream like that. Immediately, he arose and began to run, following the sound of Eowyn's voice. He slowed when he was within yards of her, watching her slowly back away from the doorway of Legolas' room, panting in terror. A flummoxed expression crossed his face, before he went to her.
" Eowyn ", he said. " What is it? What causes you distress? " he questioned, taking her by the shoulders. She didn't answer her husband, only shook her head with eyes wider than he had ever seen them. She was looking past him. Faramir turned, following her gaze..and his own eyes widened in horror and shock as he met his wife's terror. Legolas was framed in the doorway, in a picture of crimson chaos. Faramir let go of Eowyn and dashed to his Elf friend, ignoring the puddle of blood that surrounded Legolas. He knelt beside him, looking him over.
" Blessed Eru ", he gasped. From the waist down, the Elf's garments were damp and stained with blood, the slits in his pale forearms visible. The archer was calm, barely moving. He was unnaturally pale, paler than Eowyn, paler than he was typically. Paler than he should be. His lips were tinged in blue, his eyes glassy as they stared into nothing. Faramir was lost for words.
" Legolas ", he breathed. " What have you done? "
// Bid my blood to run, before I come undone //
" I'm not cold anymore, Faramir ", Legolas murmured wearily. He paused and looked up at the man. " I can feel ", he whispered. Faramir was only further disturbed the Elf's words. He gathered himself, made himself come to his senses. He took the Elf by the shoulders firmly.
" Legolas, how long have you been sitting here? ", he queried sternly, yet frantically. The Elf only looked at him wordlessly for a moment, barely shaking his head.
" My fingers aren't numb anymore, Faramir ", he said.
The Prince of Ithilien looked to his wife helplessly, only to see that she was still frozen in fear. He then turned his attention back to the Elf and gathered him in his arms. He picked Legolas up off the ground, not caring that his own clothing was now being stained with the Elf's blood. One of the servants came unto Eowyn at that moment.
" Milady? " the elderly woman said. She looked to where her mistress was and gave a small jump of surprise at the sight. Faramir swiftly brushed past her, holding Legolas in his arms.
" Clean up the floor ", he murmured to her as he left the two women. There was no time to lose.
Faramir rushed down the corridor and the halls, making his way toward the healing ward. Legolas was limp in his arms, his fair head tipped back. His eyes closed and opened sporadically, as he lingered on the brink of unconsciousness. The Elf moaned as a stray tear escaped him.
" Aragorn ", he whimpered as the doors burst open and Faramir yelled for a healer. One came to attendance as the man who carried the Elf lay Legolas on the nearest bed. " Aragorn ", the archer moaned again. He didn't feel himself weeping. The relief of the blades had fled, and he felt cold and alone once again. Legolas' blue eyes fluttered before closing as he let go and slipped into unconsciousness, the noise of Faramir and the healer around him fading away.
// Save me from the nothing I've become //
When Legolas awoke, he found himself lying in a bed near a window, the pale, golden light of late afternoon shining in ahead of him. He felt unnaturally weak and vulnerable, a feeling he loathed. He was not in his room, but in the far corner of the healing ward, he realized. His forearms were tightly wrapped in bandages for some reason. How strange this all is, he thought to himself as he attempted to sit up in bed. The Elf was alone in the large room, with exception of one of the healers who was working on the other side. He sat still and looked around, until the Lady Eowyn floated in soundlessly, speaking to the healer shortly. He couldn't hear their words and only watched. After a while, both the healer and the White Lady turned their heads to look straight at him. The way they eyed him made him feel uneasy. What was going on?
Eowyn began to approach him slowly, walking down an aisle between the beds in the center of the room and the ones against the left wall. She looked as beautiful as any Elf of the Golden Wood, he thought to himself. She might even be taken for the Lady Galadriel's daughter. She did not look too different from Celebrian, come to think of it. Legolas remembered the Lady of Imladris, wife of Lord Elrond. Her husband was raven-haired, as were her sons, the twins and Legolas' close friends, and her only daughter the Evenstar who resembled Luthien the Fair. Yet the Lady Celebrian had been golden haired as her parents and people, the only one in her family. The Lady resided in Valinor now. Legolas suspected she was content there, now that Elrond and Galadriel had sailed away too. The twins and Arwen remained, however. Undomiel would stay in Middle Earth, that was certain. Yet Legolas wondered if the twins, Elladan and Elrohir, would sail or not. That choice was yet before them. He loved them both dearly and was glad in his heart they lingered for now. But would they think of him now?
The archer had remembered why he was here in the healing ward, why his forearms were wrapped. The last thing Legolas wanted to do was face anyone. But as much as he wanted that, the White lady of Rohan and Ithilien came unto him now, a sad and pitying expression upon her face. She reached him without a word and sat on the edge of the bed, facing him.
" You have awakened ", she said, stating the obvious. He didn't know what to say. Her eyes wandered astray for a quiet moment. She looked up at him with her own pale, blue eyes.
" We're sending you to Minas Tirith ", she told him as his head snapped up alertly, " To the king Elessar."
Legolas did not answer nor reveal his feelings on this new matter, yet inside his heart was overflowing with the rivers of joy. He did not fail, however, in concealing his jubilance with the skill he had. He gave Eowyn a small smile, making her breath catch in her chest. It seemed like it had been ages since she last saw that smile.
" Thank you, milady ", he said quietly. She only stared it him with glassy eyes, seeming as if she might begin to weep. Eowyn wept, like Legolas and Aragorn and every other warrior. Warriors, soldiers, they wept. They did not cry. She gave slight nod before turning away from him and rising from the bed. For a moment, she only stood with her back to him, and he did not see her cobalt eyes stray and shine.Eowyn stepped away and left the Elf without another word.
Eowyn couldn't believe she had not seen that his condition was this serious. He had nearly died, she whispered to herself in her mind. The White Lady went on her way back to her chambers, trying to put the Elf's troubling state out of her mind and failing.
// All this time I can't believe I couldn't see Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me //
Legolas let himself slide back down onto the bed, lying with his lambent eyes open in thought. His anticipation was nearly too much to contain. He would see his best friend again. He would see once again see the Lady Arwen, one of his oldest friends, and little Eldarion, his godson. He was returning to Minas Tirith. But what would they think of him once they discovered what he had done to himself? The Elf suppressed a groan. He could imagine that look Aragorn would give him and Arwen too, the concern and the questioning. He sighed. Well, it was all his doing after all. But all the unpleasentries were diminished in light of the fact that he would be with them again. He would know joy again. Or at least that was his hope.
// I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems
Got to open my eyes to everything //
~*~
The archer drifted back to sleep, only to be trapped in a nightmare. Another nightmare. The remnants of a battlefield surrounded him, a blur of gray and black, smoke and ash. He lay on the ground, cupping his hands to his belly, nursing a wound. He bled freely and was alone. His eyes, now gray mirroring the dream instead of blue life, searched around him for anyone to help him. He didn't want to be alone.
" What have you done? " came a disembodied voice, almost shrieking. Without warning, an arrow struck him in the back. He threw his head back and arched on impact. Strangely, the arrow dissolved into dust, but the wound remained.
" How disturbed are you, suicidal Elf? ", it came again. Another arrow, another wound.
" You are alone ", it hissed quietly. This time one pierced his chest. Ash. Blood.
" Numb ", it said. The last arrow seemed to pierce his heart, vanishing into ashes. Legolas arched back once more, unable to cry out in pain. He stared up into the ebony clouded sky with glazed eyes as he slowly fell back. Yet before he met the ground, Aragorn came to him. The man hovered over him like a phantom, both the beings inhaling sharply in unison. Everything froze.
The prince floated just above ground, staring up into the gray eyes of his mortal brother. They delved into his soul, glassy pools, as he heard himself panting.
" Estel ", he breathed. The ranger stroked back over the Elf's head with both hands, before laying his lips gently on Legolas' brow. The Elf was covered in blood he could not see. He breathed fast, hard, in panic because he could not feel. The ranger lifted away, not hearing the Elf's cries and pleas for him to stay.
// Don't let me die here, there must be something more.//
Aragorn bolted up in bed, panting and sweating. He had dreamed of Legolas. The Elf needed him. Why the hell had he left Legolas? Damn. The archer was dying by himself. The ranger must return to him. Elessar breathed rapidly, haunted by his nightmare. Arwen stirred beside him and awoke as well, sensing her husband's distress. She sat up as well, laying a tender hand on his shoulder.
// " Melethnin " //, she called him in her beautiful voice. //My love.// " What troubles you? "
" Something is wrong with Legolas. I dreamt of him ", he answered, before turning to his beloved wife with turmoil in his eyes. " He needs me, Arwen. He'll die if I do not help him. "
Both the king and queen of Gondor thought of the distressed letter that they had received the morning before from Eowyn. Aragorn was too preoccupied at the moment to be called away, much to his frustration.
" I cannot lose him, Undomiel ", he whispered with tears laced into his voice, tears of paralyzing fear. Arwen looked upon him with understanding and equal concern. She took her beloved in her arms, consoling him as she stroked his raven hair and held him in her lap.
" Our Greenleaf will not be lost, Elessar ", she murmured reassuringly, hoping with all her heart that she was right.
// Bring Me To Life //