A/N: Sorry about the delay in updates and the use of angstyness (is that even a word) so close to the holidays, but it had to be done if teh story was to continue. Happy Holidays everyone!
Chapter 3: Guilt
The room was empty. At least, that was Legolas' first impression. When he turned around, though, he knew that he was not alone. An Elven woman lay in a comatose state on a bed near the wall. Her dark hair make her already pale face a ghostly white. It didn't take Legolas long to figure out that he was staring at the Lady Arwen.
Arwen? That was impossible! She was dead! But with her skin as white as it was, she very well could be dead. Legolas' keen eyes detected her chest rising and falling slightly. She was alive, if just barely.
Again, he looked around for anybody else with him. No one. He felt he should call for somebody, but instead, he reached into his tunic pocket. Mechanically, he walked toward Arwen, opened her mouth, and poured the bottle of poison he had been storing in his clothing down her throat. Legolas watched with a sick fascination as Arwen's breathing became heavy and labored. Her breast rose and fell, trying to fight the poison Legolas had given her, but with one final upheaval, she was still.
Legolas was horrified as the realization of what he'd just done sunk in. He'd killed Arwen Undomiel. He screamed, and his eyes snapped open to find a sword inches from his throat.
"They say dead Men tell no tales, but sleeping Elves are a different mattter entirely." It was the cruel elder guard.
You ignorant swine! You have no right to talk to me about dead Men because chances are you ave never suffered a loss as great as mine! That's what Legolas wanted to say, but couldn't bring the words to his lips. Instead came out a defiant "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"I just heard a practicaly full confession from you."
"A confession for what?"
"For killing the Queen." The guard drew attention to his sword still as Legolas' throat, by shaking it a bit. "I should cut your throat right now."
"But," Legolas contradicted, "if you do, you will be going against all principles your King built his nation on."
The obnoxious Man's eyes narrowed ans he stared at the fair-haired Elf, reluctant to admit his captive had a point. "Get back to sleep!" he ordered, kicking Legolas to the ground and walking away, no doubt listening for more "confessions."
The Elf laid his head right on the ground this time, not caring if the dirt got in his hair, though that was probably a bad idea, as he probably wouldn't be offered any hygene facilities once he reached Gondor.
What a strange dream. Or had it only been a dream? It had all seemed so real: the room, Arwen's reactions. . .the pleasure. Legolas shivered. He had killed the Queen of Gondor. . .and enjoyed it.
What's wrong with me? he asked himself. Legolas tried to calm himself. Only a dream. That wasn't what had really happened. . .was it? The Elf struggled to bring back the memory that seemed ages past. Arwen had been shot, but she had died several days after. Everything seemed somewhat blurred. Had it been a horrible accident, or a cruel act of jealousy? Legolas had loved Aragorn, it was true, but had never had a desire to get rid of Arwen.
The stabbing pain of loss was replaced with guilt as he once again fell into a dark, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 3: Guilt
The room was empty. At least, that was Legolas' first impression. When he turned around, though, he knew that he was not alone. An Elven woman lay in a comatose state on a bed near the wall. Her dark hair make her already pale face a ghostly white. It didn't take Legolas long to figure out that he was staring at the Lady Arwen.
Arwen? That was impossible! She was dead! But with her skin as white as it was, she very well could be dead. Legolas' keen eyes detected her chest rising and falling slightly. She was alive, if just barely.
Again, he looked around for anybody else with him. No one. He felt he should call for somebody, but instead, he reached into his tunic pocket. Mechanically, he walked toward Arwen, opened her mouth, and poured the bottle of poison he had been storing in his clothing down her throat. Legolas watched with a sick fascination as Arwen's breathing became heavy and labored. Her breast rose and fell, trying to fight the poison Legolas had given her, but with one final upheaval, she was still.
Legolas was horrified as the realization of what he'd just done sunk in. He'd killed Arwen Undomiel. He screamed, and his eyes snapped open to find a sword inches from his throat.
"They say dead Men tell no tales, but sleeping Elves are a different mattter entirely." It was the cruel elder guard.
You ignorant swine! You have no right to talk to me about dead Men because chances are you ave never suffered a loss as great as mine! That's what Legolas wanted to say, but couldn't bring the words to his lips. Instead came out a defiant "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"I just heard a practicaly full confession from you."
"A confession for what?"
"For killing the Queen." The guard drew attention to his sword still as Legolas' throat, by shaking it a bit. "I should cut your throat right now."
"But," Legolas contradicted, "if you do, you will be going against all principles your King built his nation on."
The obnoxious Man's eyes narrowed ans he stared at the fair-haired Elf, reluctant to admit his captive had a point. "Get back to sleep!" he ordered, kicking Legolas to the ground and walking away, no doubt listening for more "confessions."
The Elf laid his head right on the ground this time, not caring if the dirt got in his hair, though that was probably a bad idea, as he probably wouldn't be offered any hygene facilities once he reached Gondor.
What a strange dream. Or had it only been a dream? It had all seemed so real: the room, Arwen's reactions. . .the pleasure. Legolas shivered. He had killed the Queen of Gondor. . .and enjoyed it.
What's wrong with me? he asked himself. Legolas tried to calm himself. Only a dream. That wasn't what had really happened. . .was it? The Elf struggled to bring back the memory that seemed ages past. Arwen had been shot, but she had died several days after. Everything seemed somewhat blurred. Had it been a horrible accident, or a cruel act of jealousy? Legolas had loved Aragorn, it was true, but had never had a desire to get rid of Arwen.
The stabbing pain of loss was replaced with guilt as he once again fell into a dark, dreamless sleep.