OH MY GOD I'VE RETURNED FROM THE DEAD!!!! Well, not really, just returned
from the ranks of the technologically retarded. I have to say that I am SO
SORRY for taking so long to get back to posting, it was a bit harder to get
the internet than I'd hoped. Put it this way, I'm connected by a computer
that will explode if I try and install anything more recent than Windows 95
on it. I still don't own any of this stuff, by the way, and if you want to
sue me all you will get is my dinosaur of a computer. New chap, and, touch
wood (I tihnk my computer may even be MADE of wood!) the next one won't
take nearly as long to appear. Enjoy, I've missed all your fantastic
reviewing. ~Anoron.
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN- LEFT UNSAID
The silence in the room was becoming unbearable. Four Elves and a Key sat around the roaring fire in a spacious chamber, but there was nothing in the atmosphere of the comfort the scene suggested. Every few minutes, one of them would open their mouths, as if to speak, but change their mind at the last moment and the muteness stretched on and on.
Dawn's eyes strayed to Arwen and Estel's words burned in her ears.
*I need you to give Arwen a message for me. Tell her she doesn't have to be lonely. Nobody should.*
Her lips parted, slightly at first, but then they stretched open far enough for her to form sounds. 'Tell her,' she mentally willed herself. 'It's such a simple thing, all you have to do is give your best friend her husband's message'.
Dawn's lips started to move the slightest bit, words were only microseconds from being formed when Dawn felt her throat close up. She looked around and realised that everyone in the room had been hanging on the words she'd never said and snapped her mouth closed. She shrunk back in her chair, wondering what in the name of the Valar had come over her.
Legolas waited. He had been so sure she was about to speak. He felt the twins tense up next to him and knew they'd believed the same. But Dawn suddenly closed he mouth and withdrew herself a little and he knew whatever she was about to say was lost forever. In vain, he let a pregnant pause pass before tearing his expectant gaze away.
Elrohir and Elladan exchanged identical glances. For a moment, the twins communicated through only a series of minute facial expressions and eye movements, until Elladan gave a slight shrug and looked away. He supposed his brother was right- it would not be proper of them to bombard Dawn with questions so soon, curious as they all were to hear her tale.
Arwen too was studying Dawn intently. She'd noticed the younger immortal's gaze sweep over her, as if deliberating something before her mouth wavered on the verge of speech. Arwen tried to smile encouragingly at her dearest friend, but she couldn't even get her to look her way. Legolas too seemed to be trying to urge Dawn to speak what was on her mind, but he was having as little success as she.
Soon enough, the Mirkwood Queen stood and slipped silently from the room. The four Elves frowned. It was very unlike Dawn to leave them without taking a moment to say goodbye first, even if she was only going to be gone a few minutes. It was just too anti-social for Dawn. Legolas glanced at his friends before following her to their chambers.
When he caught up with her, she had already flopped listlessly onto the large bed, and was staring at the far wall. For half a second, he caught the most distinct glimpse of turmoil raging within the green depths of her eyes, but they became shuttered the second she registered another presence in the room. Undeterred, Legolas sat down on the edge of the bed, where he had a clear view of her face.
"What's up?" Dawn asked.
"I might ask the same of you, melamin," Legolas responded, running a fingertip down her pale cheek.
Dawn shrugged. "Tired."
He looked her over appraisingly. True, his wife appeared apathetic and subdued, but she was most definitely was not tired. "You don't look tired."
"I don't look like I'm a hundred years old, either."
"No, you don't," Legolas said softly. "You look exactly the way I remember you- beautiful."
Dawn fixed her husband with a mildly surprised stare. He'd always been good with words, but she'd never have labelled him a smooth talker until now. She knew she must look like death, but strangely she couldn't seem to care.
Legolas stared back at Dawn, holding her gaze. After a few moments, he leaned down and gently kissed her. Dawn's eyes fluttered closed on reflex, her lips moving mechanically beneath his. Despite the lukewarm response, Legolas pressed on, hoping to coax some deeper feeling out of her before long.
He stretched out on the bed, pressing his body close to Dawn's, which remained as cold as ever. Still undeterred, Legolas eased himself even closer, working on the lacings of her dress. Dawn did not protest as Legolas carefully undressed her, nor did she make any move to help him. Legolas smiled down at the creamy white skin of his wife's body, pressing feather-light kisses all over it.
Dawn lay back against the pillows, eyes still closed to the world. She could feel Legolas' warm lips tracing their way over her body, and dully remembered that this slight tickling feeling used to create such a fire within her that could make her scream for more. Even his attentions to the sensitive skin of her waist could not elicit a reaction from Dawn.
Almost as if giving up, Legolas suddenly pulled away from Dawn. She listened uninterestedly to the rustling sounds around her that continued for a minute. She opened her eyes only to notice that the rustling sounds had been made by her husband removing his own clothing, apparently resigned to the fact that Dawn was not going to help him out.
Dawn blinked up at Legolas, lost in confusion. A part of her remembered how to make love to him- they exact way in which their bodies could move in perfect synchronisation, but there was a heavier part of her drowning her body's almost automatoic responses to him out.
This part of her was busily flooding her mind with burning images of her husband's retreating back. Her own cries rang in Dawn's ears as she remembered begging for him, wanting him and needing him only to have him walk away from her. Abandon her to her own personal hell. Dawn's body completely shut down with the sickening thought.
Legolas didn't love her anymore.
She felt nothing as his body moulded to hers, barely blinked as they came together, just had a vague interest in why she felt so cold all of a sudden. It was awkwards and disjointed and over fast, and they lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling, each lost in their own tormented thoughts.
Legolas tried to look at Dawn, but he could not bring himself to turn his eyes towards the dead cold woman lying beside him. He had been so foolish, thinking that as soon as he had Dawn returned to him everything would be perfect again. He bit back a bitter laugh. It was perfect, all right. Perfect despair.
Again he felt a surge of jealousy, the same one he'd been having for years now. A vision of his wife in the arms of a vampire, staring up at him, her green eyes luminous with the most exquisite wonder. His frown deepened the tiniest bit as the King couldn't help but wonder if he was no longer the type of immortal that Dawn wanted.
She was trying to read the ceiling for answers. Dawn was trying her hardest to figure out why. Why she was so cold. Why she couldn't feel anything. Why Legolas didn't love her. Why anything anymore. Dawn's breathing quickened and she panicked a little. She couldn't have lost all her ability for feeling, could she? She'd lost a lot to Sunndale, but not everything. Not yet. Her jaw set. It was in there somewhere, somewhere in her body, and she was going to find it. She had to.
Legolas felt her moving beside him and refocused his eyes in time to see the soft, pale flesh settling on top of him. Dawn leaned close to her husband's face, but made no move to kiss him.
"Dawn?"
She said one word that only served to confuse him further. "More."
"More? Why?" Legolas needed to ask. He was certain that there had been nothing in all the universe more unromantic and uninspiring than the love they had just failed dismally to make. Why in the name of Valar would Dawn want more of that despair?
Dawn's hair was tumbling over her shoulder to tickle his chin. Neither paid it any mind, their eyes locked but unreadable. "Until I remember how to feel again," Dawn said dully before dropping her head so her face was hidden from view behind a curtain of her hair and forcing herself upon Legolas.
Legolas' eyes widened in horror. This could not be his Dawn. He felt her body clashing with his in pathetic gyrating motions, smelled her hair that hung in loose strands about his face, knew it was Dawn Greenleaf Summers by name, but could not believe it. He did not want to believe it. His Dawn was gone.
* * * * *
"Will you so something for me?" Legolas asked quietly, eyes downcast.
The children of Elrond exchanged concerned glances before Arwen spoke. "What is it, Legolas?"
"Dawn."
The twins shared another look. They had been expecting this to come up, sooner or later. Somehow Elladan was comforted by the fact that Legolas was going to talk about Dawn sooner, it meant there was little that he'd endured alone so far. Elrohir, however, was worried. If Legolas was turning to his friends for support so quickly instead of being as unified with his wife as they'd hoped, it may mean that Dawn's adjustment was going to be far more difficult than they'd feared.
"She won't talk to me. Won't connect at all," Legolas admitted, colouring slightly. It was hard for him to concede that he was an inadequate husband to help Dawn, he'd strived for nothing more than her happiness and well-being for over a century and it was killing him to know it wasn't enough for her.
"She needs time," Elladan soothed.
"She needs someone to be there for her," Legolas countered. "And if she won't let it be me. . ."
"Legolas?" Elrohir prompted after several moments of tense silence.
"Will the three of you try? Can you talk to her, make sure she is all right? I need you to take care of her," he said in a quiet rush, as if it was the most difficult thing he'd ever had to say. Even harder than the time he'd had to explain to a ten year old Elanor Gamgee that she could not come and live with him and 'Aunt Dawny' and all the pretty Elves because she needed her parents to take care of her. The fact that her parents loved her very much seemed of little comfort to the heartbroken little hobbit at the time.
"Of course we will."
* * * * *
Harsh steel glinted in the soft moonlight that shone through the bathroom window. Dawn stared at her knife where it lay on the side of the large tub. She remembered the bite of it against her wrists when she was back in Sunnydale, the pain seemed almost a comfort when compared to the numbness that had claimed her body since she'd realised her husband was no longer in love with her.
One hand tugged on the towel wound around the freshly bathed body and it dropped to the floor with a small swishing sound. The other hand closed around the handle of the knife, greeting it like an old friend.
Dawn slowly pressed the knife to the tender skin of her thighs and began to slice, savouring the sharp sting of splitting skin. Three times she drew the blade across the inside of each thigh, and the result, when she mopped up the blood oozing from her and dripping down her legs, was six long tears, as though a cat had clawed at her.
When the blood flow had stopped completely, Dawn cleaned herself up and dressed. Last thing before leaving the solitude of the bathroom, she carefully cleaned the blade of her knife and tucked it away at the small of her back. Legolas may not be able to make her feel anymore, but cold steel still could.
* * * * *
CHAPTER FOURTEEN- LEFT UNSAID
The silence in the room was becoming unbearable. Four Elves and a Key sat around the roaring fire in a spacious chamber, but there was nothing in the atmosphere of the comfort the scene suggested. Every few minutes, one of them would open their mouths, as if to speak, but change their mind at the last moment and the muteness stretched on and on.
Dawn's eyes strayed to Arwen and Estel's words burned in her ears.
*I need you to give Arwen a message for me. Tell her she doesn't have to be lonely. Nobody should.*
Her lips parted, slightly at first, but then they stretched open far enough for her to form sounds. 'Tell her,' she mentally willed herself. 'It's such a simple thing, all you have to do is give your best friend her husband's message'.
Dawn's lips started to move the slightest bit, words were only microseconds from being formed when Dawn felt her throat close up. She looked around and realised that everyone in the room had been hanging on the words she'd never said and snapped her mouth closed. She shrunk back in her chair, wondering what in the name of the Valar had come over her.
Legolas waited. He had been so sure she was about to speak. He felt the twins tense up next to him and knew they'd believed the same. But Dawn suddenly closed he mouth and withdrew herself a little and he knew whatever she was about to say was lost forever. In vain, he let a pregnant pause pass before tearing his expectant gaze away.
Elrohir and Elladan exchanged identical glances. For a moment, the twins communicated through only a series of minute facial expressions and eye movements, until Elladan gave a slight shrug and looked away. He supposed his brother was right- it would not be proper of them to bombard Dawn with questions so soon, curious as they all were to hear her tale.
Arwen too was studying Dawn intently. She'd noticed the younger immortal's gaze sweep over her, as if deliberating something before her mouth wavered on the verge of speech. Arwen tried to smile encouragingly at her dearest friend, but she couldn't even get her to look her way. Legolas too seemed to be trying to urge Dawn to speak what was on her mind, but he was having as little success as she.
Soon enough, the Mirkwood Queen stood and slipped silently from the room. The four Elves frowned. It was very unlike Dawn to leave them without taking a moment to say goodbye first, even if she was only going to be gone a few minutes. It was just too anti-social for Dawn. Legolas glanced at his friends before following her to their chambers.
When he caught up with her, she had already flopped listlessly onto the large bed, and was staring at the far wall. For half a second, he caught the most distinct glimpse of turmoil raging within the green depths of her eyes, but they became shuttered the second she registered another presence in the room. Undeterred, Legolas sat down on the edge of the bed, where he had a clear view of her face.
"What's up?" Dawn asked.
"I might ask the same of you, melamin," Legolas responded, running a fingertip down her pale cheek.
Dawn shrugged. "Tired."
He looked her over appraisingly. True, his wife appeared apathetic and subdued, but she was most definitely was not tired. "You don't look tired."
"I don't look like I'm a hundred years old, either."
"No, you don't," Legolas said softly. "You look exactly the way I remember you- beautiful."
Dawn fixed her husband with a mildly surprised stare. He'd always been good with words, but she'd never have labelled him a smooth talker until now. She knew she must look like death, but strangely she couldn't seem to care.
Legolas stared back at Dawn, holding her gaze. After a few moments, he leaned down and gently kissed her. Dawn's eyes fluttered closed on reflex, her lips moving mechanically beneath his. Despite the lukewarm response, Legolas pressed on, hoping to coax some deeper feeling out of her before long.
He stretched out on the bed, pressing his body close to Dawn's, which remained as cold as ever. Still undeterred, Legolas eased himself even closer, working on the lacings of her dress. Dawn did not protest as Legolas carefully undressed her, nor did she make any move to help him. Legolas smiled down at the creamy white skin of his wife's body, pressing feather-light kisses all over it.
Dawn lay back against the pillows, eyes still closed to the world. She could feel Legolas' warm lips tracing their way over her body, and dully remembered that this slight tickling feeling used to create such a fire within her that could make her scream for more. Even his attentions to the sensitive skin of her waist could not elicit a reaction from Dawn.
Almost as if giving up, Legolas suddenly pulled away from Dawn. She listened uninterestedly to the rustling sounds around her that continued for a minute. She opened her eyes only to notice that the rustling sounds had been made by her husband removing his own clothing, apparently resigned to the fact that Dawn was not going to help him out.
Dawn blinked up at Legolas, lost in confusion. A part of her remembered how to make love to him- they exact way in which their bodies could move in perfect synchronisation, but there was a heavier part of her drowning her body's almost automatoic responses to him out.
This part of her was busily flooding her mind with burning images of her husband's retreating back. Her own cries rang in Dawn's ears as she remembered begging for him, wanting him and needing him only to have him walk away from her. Abandon her to her own personal hell. Dawn's body completely shut down with the sickening thought.
Legolas didn't love her anymore.
She felt nothing as his body moulded to hers, barely blinked as they came together, just had a vague interest in why she felt so cold all of a sudden. It was awkwards and disjointed and over fast, and they lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling, each lost in their own tormented thoughts.
Legolas tried to look at Dawn, but he could not bring himself to turn his eyes towards the dead cold woman lying beside him. He had been so foolish, thinking that as soon as he had Dawn returned to him everything would be perfect again. He bit back a bitter laugh. It was perfect, all right. Perfect despair.
Again he felt a surge of jealousy, the same one he'd been having for years now. A vision of his wife in the arms of a vampire, staring up at him, her green eyes luminous with the most exquisite wonder. His frown deepened the tiniest bit as the King couldn't help but wonder if he was no longer the type of immortal that Dawn wanted.
She was trying to read the ceiling for answers. Dawn was trying her hardest to figure out why. Why she was so cold. Why she couldn't feel anything. Why Legolas didn't love her. Why anything anymore. Dawn's breathing quickened and she panicked a little. She couldn't have lost all her ability for feeling, could she? She'd lost a lot to Sunndale, but not everything. Not yet. Her jaw set. It was in there somewhere, somewhere in her body, and she was going to find it. She had to.
Legolas felt her moving beside him and refocused his eyes in time to see the soft, pale flesh settling on top of him. Dawn leaned close to her husband's face, but made no move to kiss him.
"Dawn?"
She said one word that only served to confuse him further. "More."
"More? Why?" Legolas needed to ask. He was certain that there had been nothing in all the universe more unromantic and uninspiring than the love they had just failed dismally to make. Why in the name of Valar would Dawn want more of that despair?
Dawn's hair was tumbling over her shoulder to tickle his chin. Neither paid it any mind, their eyes locked but unreadable. "Until I remember how to feel again," Dawn said dully before dropping her head so her face was hidden from view behind a curtain of her hair and forcing herself upon Legolas.
Legolas' eyes widened in horror. This could not be his Dawn. He felt her body clashing with his in pathetic gyrating motions, smelled her hair that hung in loose strands about his face, knew it was Dawn Greenleaf Summers by name, but could not believe it. He did not want to believe it. His Dawn was gone.
* * * * *
"Will you so something for me?" Legolas asked quietly, eyes downcast.
The children of Elrond exchanged concerned glances before Arwen spoke. "What is it, Legolas?"
"Dawn."
The twins shared another look. They had been expecting this to come up, sooner or later. Somehow Elladan was comforted by the fact that Legolas was going to talk about Dawn sooner, it meant there was little that he'd endured alone so far. Elrohir, however, was worried. If Legolas was turning to his friends for support so quickly instead of being as unified with his wife as they'd hoped, it may mean that Dawn's adjustment was going to be far more difficult than they'd feared.
"She won't talk to me. Won't connect at all," Legolas admitted, colouring slightly. It was hard for him to concede that he was an inadequate husband to help Dawn, he'd strived for nothing more than her happiness and well-being for over a century and it was killing him to know it wasn't enough for her.
"She needs time," Elladan soothed.
"She needs someone to be there for her," Legolas countered. "And if she won't let it be me. . ."
"Legolas?" Elrohir prompted after several moments of tense silence.
"Will the three of you try? Can you talk to her, make sure she is all right? I need you to take care of her," he said in a quiet rush, as if it was the most difficult thing he'd ever had to say. Even harder than the time he'd had to explain to a ten year old Elanor Gamgee that she could not come and live with him and 'Aunt Dawny' and all the pretty Elves because she needed her parents to take care of her. The fact that her parents loved her very much seemed of little comfort to the heartbroken little hobbit at the time.
"Of course we will."
* * * * *
Harsh steel glinted in the soft moonlight that shone through the bathroom window. Dawn stared at her knife where it lay on the side of the large tub. She remembered the bite of it against her wrists when she was back in Sunnydale, the pain seemed almost a comfort when compared to the numbness that had claimed her body since she'd realised her husband was no longer in love with her.
One hand tugged on the towel wound around the freshly bathed body and it dropped to the floor with a small swishing sound. The other hand closed around the handle of the knife, greeting it like an old friend.
Dawn slowly pressed the knife to the tender skin of her thighs and began to slice, savouring the sharp sting of splitting skin. Three times she drew the blade across the inside of each thigh, and the result, when she mopped up the blood oozing from her and dripping down her legs, was six long tears, as though a cat had clawed at her.
When the blood flow had stopped completely, Dawn cleaned herself up and dressed. Last thing before leaving the solitude of the bathroom, she carefully cleaned the blade of her knife and tucked it away at the small of her back. Legolas may not be able to make her feel anymore, but cold steel still could.
* * * * *