Disclaimer: I don't own although it maybe slightly AU.
Author's Note: a couple of comments that I have already made that I think I'll have to make again is that Estel would be around his late teens, about sixteen years old to eighteen. I wanted both Legolas and Estel to be young enough to still be vulnerable but old enough to have more freedom from their elders. Also, there won't be any major disaster that Legolas had lived through for him to start to cut himself and whatnot…I explained that in the last author's note about how everyone has a right to feel the way they do regardless of their situation.
~*For Eden*~
~*Chapter Four*~
They stood there like that, staring at each other in the flickering light for what seemed an eternity. Legolas was torn. Here was someone who was offering to listen to him, to whatever he had to say. What did he have to say? He was so tempted to turn Estel down, to walk away and pretend like none of this ever happened and to keep going the way he was. But could Estel possibly help him? Legolas felt hope, a fool's hope, but hope nonetheless.
Estel wanted to do something other than just standing there. He wanted to go inside Legolas' mind and find out what had been haunting him for so long. He wanted to find that demon and chase it out of Legolas' mind and sweep away all those dark curtains that had been shading the elf's blue eyes. They were heavy, damp curtains of the dead; they were musty and poisonous.
Legolas tried to say something but his tongue felt severed. Never had controlling his mouth seemed to hard. All he wanted to do was to fall into a pool of water. His flesh felt as though it was wasting away to reveal the smooth, white bones underneath. He would fall into the water, arms spread like a rock star, and he would melt into the caressing waves. How sweet and pure he would be. He could almost taste the coolness on his lips as though the night had beaded into water.
He needed to escape the confines of his life; they were as rigid and wiry as baskets. The strings of his life pulled at him like a marionette; there were expectations that he couldn't, didn't want to reach and too many days of feeling nothing. He felt as hollow and wooden as a puppet.
"I just…can we talk?" It was painful even to say those words, like nails that snagged on the delicate surface of his mouth.
"Sure, of course we can." Estel was speaking more softly than normal, as though speaking too loudly would scare Legolas away. As much as Legolas felt like unloading his thoughts onto the other boy, he couldn't help feeling wary.
"What has been weighing so heavily on your mind that you won't eat?" asked Estel. Legolas winced though the expression was lost into the darkness. Lies almost fell out of Legolas' mouth but something stopped him.
"I don't know, that's the problem," he finally said. Estel could feel the vagueness in his voice and felt instinctively not to press. To him, Legolas was like a cat. He would tell what he needed to when he wanted to; he will come to Estel for help whenever he was ready and not a second sooner.
"We don't have to talk about you if you want," said Estel, carefully. He led Legolas over to a circle of light. They sat down on the stone floor, still warm from the afternoon's sun. Estel stretched out lazily on his back, hands resting behind his head.
"I hope you're enjoying the trip so far."
"It doesn't have much but it is beautiful," Legolas finally said. It was a beautiful place full of mystery.
"You must learn to look beneath the surface of things," said Estel.
"And see what you can find for even the plainest things can shine with their own beauty," finished Legolas. He instinctively clutched a hand to his cuts.
"Everything can be beautiful when seen in the right light."
"Everything? Even disease? Sickness, war, poverty?" challenged Legolas.
"Perhaps not the thing itself," Estel admitted. "But sometimes the worst of times bring out the best in people."
"And that is pathetic," said Legolas. "That you must be wrecked and ravaged in order to see the beauty that lies plainly before you."
"Not all of us are as blessed as you in our sight." They listened as the lonely evening bird sang its song.
"I am not blessed in any way," Legolas finally said. Estel rolled onto his stomach and looked at Legolas in the faint light.
"Everyone is blessed if they have breath in their lungs," he said. "Is there nothing that makes you feel as though you are blessed? You are very contradictory. First you say that one should see the beauty that lies plainly before them and yet you do not see that you are blessed."
"Then sun on my face, the water, the wind on my back, these things are blessed. But that does not make myself blessed."
"But you are," Estel insisted. "You are blessed to have these things."
"How are you so passionate about life and living," said Legolas, staring up into the velvet sky. He longed nothing more than to be stolen away into its soft folds, far away from pain that lingered on this earth.
"When you are human and your family is immortal, you learn to appreciate life," said Estel gravely. "Life is too short to spend complaining and dwelling on bad things."
"You say that I am contradictory. I have another contradiction for you then. I told you that people should acknowledge the beauty before them without living through tragedy. Yet when you say one shouldn't complain or dwell on bad things, I think you are wrong. To know light you must know darkness as well as every circle of hell. You must know both to appreciate one. If you are forever glossing over the bad things in life it will kill you someday." Estel frowned in thought.
"You twist my mind, elf." Legolas felt his own mind twist as well. He felt as though his mind had no control over his mouth, as he kept talking, unable to stop himself. Legolas felt fearful that he might reveal more than he intended to.
"But is that necessarily a bad thing." Estel smiled.
"I suppose not." Legolas settled down more comfortably next to Estel.
"What's it like? Being human and knowing that you will someday die?"
"For someone who is immortal you are obsessed with death. Why is that?"
"It means end, end of things. Just because I am immortal does not mean I cannot die. I dream about-" Legolas traced the ground with a fingertip. "I dream about dying." Suicide, his mind added.
"Dreams are just dreams you know Legolas," said Estel. "That's all."
"They are a manifestation of my fear and the inevitable."
"You won't die Legolas," said Estel impatiently. "You're an elf, your kind lives forever."
"But you won't and doesn't that worry you?" Estel peered at Legolas' face and saw true terror there.
"Yes but worrying about it won't prevent it now, will it?" he said soothingly. "You just have to live your life, Legolas, you can't let something you can't change affect you so much."
They lapsed into silence. Legolas was so tired; he was always tired. The weight of the world seemed to drag at his very bones, chalky and crumbling. His skin felt bruised and sensitive to the touch. Legolas felt warmth on one side and realized it was Estel. The human was too close. Legolas moved away from him and let the coolness envelop him, shivering. He knew too much. Scared, Legolas stood up. His head felt messy, black lines etched across his mind as things crashed and shattered. He couldn't handle all of this, any of this. He needed to get away from Estel fast. It was as though a net had been pulled over him and the strings burned his skin.
"It's late, I must sleep," said Legolas. When Estel reached for his arm, Legolas flinched.
Estel rose with a groan as his stiff body accustomed once more to moving. Legolas jumped up more fluidly, eager to return to his room.
Once in the safe haven of his room, Legolas crawled into the bed and reached for the familiar handle of his dagger. It seemed to slither into his hand like a poisonous snake; they knew each other too well. Legolas stared at it for a moment. Was it really worth it? Why did he have to do this? He would regret it doubtless.
The fear of Estel came crashing down once more. How he would scoff at him if he knew the whole truth! He would think Legolas a weakling. He had no right to feel the way he was feeling; there was no tragedy in his life.
When Legolas started for his arm, he saw the red lines lacing up them. It was too noticeable. This would not do. Sooner or later someone would see. Without thinking, Legolas reached down and cut a smooth line on his leg. It hurt less than when he did it on his arm; in fact it didn't hurt at all. Legolas felt delirious.
"This is my poetry," he whispered. "My destruction." He liked the sound of it. As clichéd as it was, he was in love with the knowledge that he was in control. He would not succumb to disease or death taken by some phantom nor would he live forever, growing older and wearier every year by the redundancy of life. He would choose carefully when he would die and he would execute it by his own hand. It would be his ultimate escape and he will escape.
Legolas fell back onto the velvet and silk sheets of his bed and lay there, breathing deeply. The sweat soaked nightshirt grew chilly and Legolas finally succumbed to sleep.
~*~
He dreamt of demons with forked tongues and little beards that danced around him, chanting and singing in an unknown language. Legolas saw himself falling from a height and landing on the ground. People he knew laughed as though his own death was a spectacle. Then they grew agitated.
"Prince Legolas had nothing to die for," one spectator said.
"He had everything, he was just too enamored at the idea of living a drama," said another. Legolas tried to tell them that they were wrong and he did it to escape, to escape them. Before they caught Legolas' protests, he felt the ground shift beneath his feet and the scenery changed.
He was surrounded by decaying people with gaping mouths and searching eyes. They grabbed at Legolas' sleeves and hems, begging. Then he was surrounded by fairies, their ribcages underneath their gossamer gowns like wires. Their long hair floated around them, more substantial than the limbs that poked at Legolas, laughing at him.
Legolas awoke, sitting straight up in bed, hair pressed around his face, damp. He ran to the chamber pot and heaved though nothing came out. His sides hurt from the effort. He was disgusted at himself and clawed at his stomach. Legolas ran from the room.
He heard running water and followed that sound until he came across a clear stream. He started to splash his face then changed his mind and jumped in. The water was cold and bit at his skin but after submerging himself several times, the temperature seemed to warm. Legolas floated on his back letting his arms and legs move as they would, his hair floating around his face like a halo. The moonlight held him in its loving light that night. It was no longer a searchlight, holding him guilty at his crimes, but it was a maternal glow to protect him. This was what he had dreamed about.
The night seemed to have turned into liquid and surrounded Legolas. He drank the moonlight. His arms and legs seemed impossibly white underneath the water. They looked clean, untouched, unsullied, and pure. He was pure. He was like smooth, clear glass that would ring with the sweetest tones. His hands traveled over his hips, feeling the bone that jutted out. It felt alien. He was untouchable. Legolas slept as the water guided him to the bank. He grasped the soft grass with his fingers and the water lapped at his feet.
From a distance, on the bride over the stream, Estel watched. He was so different. The elf looked so small out there in the water by himself and though he wanted to drag him out, Estel could see that Legolas was enjoying himself for what seemed like the first time. He sighed. He wished Legolas would trust him enough to tell him what was truly bothering him but it looked as though he would have to wait.
~*~
Legolas awoke with the sun in his eyes and grass in his hair. He licked his lips and carefully made his way back to his room and slipped into bed. He felt so trapped. He wanted nothing more than to break away and be free. But free from what? From life, he decided. He was a prisoner to the redundancy of life.
"Sleep well I hope?" asked Estel, poking his head in. If he was surprised that Legolas was already awake, staring blankly at the ceiling, he didn't let it on.
"Your baths are prepared," Estel added. "Ada apologizes that it couldn't be prepared sooner. He says he should have anticipated travel-weary guests but it must have slipped his mind." Legolas waved away the apology with a gaunt hand.
"I would like to bathe," he admitted. Despite his night swim, he felt sticky and unclean now back in reality. Estel led him to a bathing pool with a stream of water that fell from the marble ceiling.
"Take your time, Ada likes to take his time in the morning, he prefers later breakfasts." After the human had left, Legolas shed his clothes and found the water pleasantly warm. The water that fell from the ceiling, however, was extremely hot. Legolas found an assortment of soaps. They stung his arms and legs. Biting his lips, Legolas forced himself to stay underneath the waterfall of hot water as it burned him and rinsed the last of the soap out of his cuts.
He found a rough cloth and rubbed his skin until it shone red. Legolas still felt filthy and he washed himself more thoroughly. His cuts opened up and bled, turning the water around him a light pink. Finally satisfied that he was clean, Legolas climbed out of the pool and back into fresh clothes.
Legolas waited outside patiently in a courtyard, watching the sky grow brighter, the same shade of pink as the water had been. Legolas hastily looked down at the ground in guilt. He felt as though this was consuming him, whatever this was. How did it all start?
He remembered the very first time. The world seemed to be pressing down on him, pushing at his body, stretching him beyond what he could handle. His mind seemed as though it was collapsing in on itself; he couldn't stand living anymore. The knife that had been hastily left behind seemed to call to him. No one else seemed to be minding Legolas, it was as though he was the only one left on the world. He walked as though an invisible string was pulling him and before he knew it, thick, dark red blood had fell to the ground. He didn't quite remember doing the deed; Legolas just remembered the pounding of his heart, excited at what would happen in the near future and terrified that someone might walk in. Watching the blood fall, he felt as though he had accomplished something. He was too afraid to have done nothing but scratch himself before and here he was now, able to cut himself.
Feeling sick, Legolas had hid the knife and scrubbed the blood from the floor. But the whole time he couldn't help stealing glances at his own doing. It was proof. Legolas felt as though now if anyone should find out they couldn't dismiss his feelings. He felt as though he had more substance, that he was justified. Why else would he do this? He was in charge, in control. He could do whatever he pleased.
"Legolas!" Legolas' head snapped up and out of his memories. Estel was walking towards him and his long lanky legs took him to Legolas' side faster than the elf expected.
"Breakfast is prepared. I couldn't help but notice that you had wrist guards. Maybe you'd like to shoot some arrows with me after breakfast?" Estel suggested. Legolas felt his face break into a real smile.
"That would be nice." He stood up and left, leaving his memories behind and ignoring his demons that tugged at his mind.
~*~
Thanks to: Tweeked-Out-Girl, leggy-lover, Coolio02, FrodoBaggins87, Taraisilwen, Elessar*Lover, LazarusZ, Sue Falkenkralle, Catmint, Theodred Prince, kaya, Riva van Dyk, Snikkers, Isdule07, Saxaphonebaby, ZiZi the Zephyr, Chels, Niki, siricerasi, Drowned with my Enemy, and Vegeta's Girl
Lulu bell- I don't mind your rantings and ravings, haha…they're very entertaining…I don't quite understand that "tee" expression either…thanks again for the nice words
Sunni- emotions and such are more or less autobiographical…this whole story is except I'm not an elf hah…
Starkitty Angel- I'm not a big fan of Arwen either…
ZeldaDragon- thank you for all the sweet words and I'm so happy for you that you're happy now…people like you inspire me
Kowarete no Tsubasa- wow, I hope I didn't make anyone anorexic with the food descriptions…I hope I didn't get too gross…I'm a bit of a slave to that trance myself…it's just weird, like I'm not thinking anymore…anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying my story!
Arimel- I'm just mainly taking everything based off of personal experience. Sometimes I shift food around and no one seems to think of it…it's a lot easier to do in a large group of people which was my situation at the time…but I'm positive that you're right and that it would never happen in an intimate family dinner…
Rainbow Stevie- again (I feel like I'm repeating myself) I'm writing this based off of personal experience so Legolas has been cutting himself where I have. But yes, like you had wished, I had been planning for Legolas to cut elsewhere, as he did in this chapter, because (like I said) that is what happened to me. I'm enjoying your constructive criticism and I'm looking forward to more of your suggestions and comments.
Elfmage- yeah, I end up feeling selfish that I have so much, functioning family, friends, etc. yet I still feel low. But don't feel bad about feeling the way you do! (Like I've said so many times before…I really am repeating myself aren't I…)
Psychotic S- I was rather surprised at how many reviews this story has been getting…but more than the number I'm enjoying reading everyone's input and having them share a bit of themselves with me (honestly, I hope I'm not sounding too cheesy…) It's always helpful to hear about someone who has overcome their own demons, let's all keep our fingers crossed that Legolas will
Sindarin Lady- that is a very good point, that you are only hurting yourself, because I had used that as justification many times before…I'm glad you seem to love your parents…it's always sad when kids seem to hate their parents when they only want the best for their kids…
Angel With No Wings- I'm hoping that by reading this and living through Legolas' pain, people will be more understanding and not just put off teens' depression as just a "phase." I wish people were more talkative about such things instead of having it be like a poser fad almost to cut yourself. It's dangerous and it should be discussed. Anyway, thanks for all your comments, they were very interesting to read.
Darkmoon-on-Dragonwings- I'll never tell ^^