Confessions of Legolas Greenleaf Chapter 2
PG for mild language, either my poor little Legolas cursing to himself, or me expressing my opinion of flamers. That, and a tad bit of violence. Just a tad.
K, for those of you who read chapter one and enjoyed it (thank you for reviewing) here is the rest. Again, this is not my best work. That sort of stuff is at Also again, flamers are not welcome. If you would like to suggest something, do so kindly and I will accept it kindly. Really, I am a very reasonable person so long as you make a good first impression with me.
Also, Legolas can manage to talk to everyone in Rivendell about Erian safely because there are no scumbags in the elvish land like there are here. (Or at least, not in this story!)
Oh. Yeah. Um... I saw the Fellowship again the other night, and...um... I goofed. He wasn't talking about what Lady Galadriel said when he talked about the 'grief being still too near,' he was talking about what the Elves in Lorien were singing about (Gandalf's funeral song) Oopsies... .()
However, the story will be continuing, as I want to go through with it, and since I've got nothing better to do with my time because I have no idea what to write for my next BFTD chapter. . I hate it when my muse(s) don't talk to me for months and then laugh at my frustration inside my head just out of reach!!
The first three days were complete letdowns. Every single male elf I knew I talked to about her. At first, they seemed confused; probably thinking this was some kind of joke. Then each in turn burst out laughing, later apologizing and saying that, while they'd love to help, it seemed as though Erian was already taken. The bloody idiots! The entire reason I was talking to them was because she was FAR from taken, and inches away from suicide because of it!
Though I was far from giving up. Every night I went up to the accursed balcony and left a large plate of food there for my friend (knowing that she was not going to leave her precarious position to get some herself), though I kept a safe distance from her so she wouldn't think I was trying to get near enough to pull her away. I knew that if she had reason to think that she'd jump regardless of the promise she'd made me. That was just the way she was.
I foolishly spent the fourth day at home, wondering why my acquaintances had been laughing at me the days prior. I also thought about the argument Erian and I had; the one that started this whole mess in the first place...
We'd been out at our favorite field, under the tree where we'd met. I was up on the top branch, surveying the area around us. She was back on the ground with her canvas and brush, painting the sparkling pond nearby. The ceruleans and emeralds she used for the water and grass made the landscape seem surreally ethereal to the point where it almost didn't look like the pond anymore. She looked up at me and laughed. I suppose I did look rather funny hanging from the branch as I was. Though her laugh wasn't as light and happy as it used to be. I didn't think about it much at the time, but nothing she did was as light and happy as it used to be. I jumped down from the branch and peeked over her shoulder.
"What're you doing?" I asked playfully. I knew, of course, I was just very happy at that moment. Being in high places does that to me.
"I'm painting," she answered, looking over at me. She put a bit of dark green on her brush and shadowed in little bits of the grass. "What do you think?"
"I like it," I said as I watched her highlight the points on the pond where the sunlight made the water sparkle like diamonds. "But you forgot something."
Erian looked over from her masterpiece at me again, confused. "What am I forgetting?"
"The pretty little elf painting the pretty little picture!" I dipped my index finger into the emerald paint she'd used for some of the grass and "painted" her cheek. I laughed. Teasing her was so fun! But this time, she didn't laugh along.
"That... that was... my best green paint," she whispered in disbelief. "That took me...four months...to earn...the money...for..." I saw tears in her eyes. Was she crying over PAINT?! This was very unlike Erian. She NEVER cried over ANYTHING before, not even when her mother died! Though she'd been teary-eyed quite often lately, often for no particular reason at all, other times for incredibly foolish reasons, such as now. I was hoping it was just mood swings, but I knew that it was a false hope.
"Erian," I stammered, "Don't cry, I'm sorry. I didn't know the paint meant so much to you. I'll get you another tube to make up for it." I was getting very worried. She glared up at me with vehemence. "Legolas, I cannot believe you did that! That was one of the most rude, arrogant, selfish –"
"Look, Erian," I couldn't believe she was making such a fuss over a fingerful of paint! It was starting to get on my nerves. "It's just a little paint! I said I'd pay you back for it if it meant that much to you -"
"I don't want your charity!" She spat. "I'll go work for my money like I always do... Unlike you..."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" This little elf girl was going too far.
"Well," she said, a sarcastic smile across her face, "I'm not royalty. Everything you want you get handed to you on a mithril platter. The REST of Rivendell has to WORK to get what they want. But you don't even know what WORK means, do you Legolas?"
Well, now she'd not only crossed the line, she'd stomped on it, then sauntered on over to the next county. Of course, being who I was, I wasn't ABOUT to take that sort of bitchy lip lying down, even if it WAS coming from the mouth of my best friend!
"Oh, of course. THAT must be why I can arch better than every other elf in the kingdom, because the bow was HANDED to me. The ten hours of work I put in EVERY DAY until I had perfected my skills had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT, DID IT?" She made me mad. Of course I was going to raise my voice! I may be a prince, but I do get mad if my buttons are pushed the wrong way! "And BY THE WAY, at LEAST I behave as one of my stature SHOULD!" That's what happens when I am angered: I go between yelling at the top of my lungs (rather undignified, but still gets the job done) and dangerously quiet. It's when the entire sentence is said in a whisper you need to be wary.
Erian looked shocked. Apparently she'd never seen me mad before. "What... was... that...supposed... to mean...?" I had thought it was quite obvious, but she was probably trying to give me a chance to stop myself before I did something stupid that couldn't be undone. And, given the current situation, I'd say she failed.
"Women should be SEEN, not HEARD. YOU, however, are SEEN, HEARD, and are one of THE MOST OUTSPOKEN ELVES in the WHOLE of RIVENDELL. Because of that and the fact that I am often with you, I have been denied a MAJORITY of the things I am due as prince of the Woodland Realms! So thank you SO MUCH for holding me back!" She said nothing in reply for some time. Her head drooped, so all I could see was her hair. When she looked up there were tears in her eyes as well as a burning hatred. She stood up and dropped her brush and palette on the ground; something she had never done before. She appeared to have something more to say, and stormed up to me to do so. She glared at me for a second, then slapped me across the face. I was quite surprised, though looking back on it now, I see I shouldn't have been, considering what I said to her.
"Sorry for holding you back for so long," she growled at me through clenched teeth. Her voice was wavering, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. I then realized my awful mistake. "Don't worry, you wont be so unhappy for much longer." She rapidly turned on her heel, whacking me in the face with her hair, and raced off back to town. Her paints and canvas were still all over the field. I closed up the paints for her, and put everything together, careful not to smudge the landscape she'd been working so hard on. All that finally led up to the here and now.
That slap keeps repeating in my head: the slight sting of it, the way her fingernails scraped my cheek, the fury and pain behind it. It didn't hurt too badly, but the feeling behind it was worse than the deepest wound. She was my dearest friend, and I hate myself more every day for saying those things to her that fateful day in the field.
I finally understand why she was so upset with everything, though. I was a prince. I lived in the lap of luxury, and she was right – mostly everything I wanted was handed to me, no questions asked. She, on the other hand, was born into a... well... a less that rich family. She had never known luxury, and (I later realized) she'd nearly worked her ears off to get enough money for her paint set. She never asked me for anything – she was a woman of pride, she'd never ask anyone for a single thing, even if she'd die without it. And she was different from the other elves – it's hard to explain, but no one ever accepted that, except me. I think she's worried. I will have to choose a bride soon, for father will be leaving Middle-earth within a matter of months and leave the royal duties to me. I won't have time to just sit with her in our field and talk anymore. I think she thinks I'll forget her once I become king. Of course that's not true, but I was too oblivious to tell her otherwise until it was too late.
I got up off of my bed and watched the sun rise. It was the beginning of the fifth day. I had to move.
Well, what do you think? I personally like it, a bit, and I'm happy that at least here does the quick edit thing and lets you put stuff in italics (fictionpress is driving me crazy about that!), but what I think doesn't much matter at the moment. So please review, even if you don't like it, just tell me why (and I'd appreciate more than just "I don't like the pairing." Yes, it's Legolas/OC. We've been through this. Get over it and move on with your life.) And maybe if your idea is good enough it'll show up in the next chapter or two.
Also, I'm sorry I haven't posted this sooner, my computer has been really weird lately and only keeps me online for maybe 3 out of every 10 minutes. It makes me crazy! . Next chapter will be up as soon as I find the inspiration/ my computer allows me online longer.