I am so, so sorry for not having updated my story for so long!! I won't try to make excuses--I just forgot and got a bit of writer's block and I don't know....became lazy? But anyway, thank you, reviewers, because you have given me the will to go on! Thank you, all of you!! I love you, love you, love you!!! :)
Ummm.....I don't think I can fix the abuse scene, since I don't speak/write from personal experience, but thank you for the input, all who have commented. Now, an extra-long (I hope) chapter four, to make up for my negligence. Please don't kill me!!!
Once again, nothing is mine, really...it belongs to the devil on my left shoulder, the angel on my right, and my good friend (ahem) Mr. JRR Tolkien.
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Legolas 1/2 [formerly Looking Past the Surface]
Chapter Four
Legolas woke to the sound of the wind, moaning to the silent trees and the quiet sky. He curled up into a small ball, the cold, rough stone abrasive to his naked flesh, and let a few salty tears trickle to the side of his nose. I'm sorry, Father, he thought, I'm sorry that I've failed you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.....he blinked his eyes once, twice, and then slowly unfurled his stiff, pale limbs, darkened by blue-black bruises. Crying won't help me now--I've already made my mistakes, he thought. If only I could fix them....
Suddenly, the elf noticed his surroundings. No longer was he in his richly furnished chambers, but in a small stone room with only a lumpy straw mattress, a candle in a candlestick, a paneless window, and a small pile of clothes. Legolas slowly, painstakingly dragged himself to the window. Outside, the waning sliver of a moon dimly illuminated the forest, but it was misty; the stars were scarcely visible through the hazy clouds. Legolas sighed, wishing that he could simply disappear into the great multitude of elms and oaks and moss and all the rest. But he would be found, and brought back in disgrace, and life would be worse. No, better to remain in misery than to return to agony. He shivered--the night was cool, and his body was weary. He struggled into a rough nightgown and lowered himself onto the mattress. Trying to ignore the sharp straw that poked into his ribs, Legolas forced himself into sleep. Tomorrow would be a terrible day, he felt sure, and sleep deprivation would only serve to worsen it.
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The morning dawned rosy pink and far too early for Legolas. He was awakened just as the first sun-ray touched the sky; he was working in the kitchen, washing dishes and chopping vegetables, before even half the orb rose above the horizon. He felt uncomfortable in the dress, in the kitchen, in his new role; any minute, he thought, any minute someone will recognize me and everyone will find out the truth and I will be thrown into the dungeon or something... But no one paid much attention to the new scullery maid, Glasa, except to note that she could cook rather well and had exceptional manners. Gradually, Legolas adjusted to his new life; after a month, his knowledge of etiquette had elevated him to the position of serving-maid. Friendly with the other servants, he often engaged in idle chat and gossip during free time...and work, of course
Hullo, Fiera, he said as he sat down next to his friend, duster in hand.
Oh, hello, Glasa, she replied cheerily. Then she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Have you heard the news about Prince Legolas?
No, what happened? Legolas loved to hear the lies his father made up to guard the secret.
Well...his fever is rising and he's always having these hallusins--hallunis--
Yes, those. And King sent for Gandalf, but he was off on some mission or other--probably research or something that doesn't matter. He always seems to go off at just the wrong moment, don't he?
Yes, yes he does... Legolas mused. Perhaps he'd return with the cure soon...
The dusters moved less quickly as the two spoke, only to begin dancing frantically again at the head maid's shout.
Move quickly, girls--King wants this place spotless for King Aragorn's arrival today!
Legolas started. Aragorn was coming? How could he have forgotten? He continued to dust diligently, but his thoughts were far away. What if Aragorn saw him? What would he say? What would he do? What would Thranduil do? Maybe Aragorn wouldn't recognize him...maybe all would be well...but probably not. Oh dear, this would be a difficult day.
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Aragorn rode leisurely through the forest, listening to the soft sound of horses' hooves on leaves and feeling his spirits rise. Today he would be arriving--today he would see Legolas! He had known the elf since he was a child, though Legolas had been much bigger than he at the time. Now, finally, they were to meet face to face again, after three years. Though they'd written--Aragorn had four boxes full of letters from Legolas locked in a cupboard in his study--letters were not at all the same as actual talking. However...the king furrowed his brow. Legolas's most recent letter had been most uncharacteristic; rather than light and witty, it had been cold and brief, speaking only of his illness and asking him to visit later, when he was well. Aragorn had replied that he would come anyway; a mere fever was not enough to keeping him from his dearest friend. Just the thought of his face, though pale and drawn it may be, was enough to make his heart flutter in anticipation...
Aragorn sat up straigher in his saddle and spurred on his horse. He would have to hurry if he was going to arrive at the castle in time for the mid-afternoon tea.
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Well, I suppose it's not as good as it could be, but it's not that bad (I hope). I will write later, ok? Ok!
