A/N Okay everyone, gasp in shock. I updated! Yes, I know, I'm setting new slow records. Blame it on…um…solar flares? Or the fact that in order to find out where to go next I have to wade through Tolkein's writing. He's a genius, yes, but a very wordy genius.
Thanks for the review type thingies! My ego loves you all. Send suggestions if you like, there's still another week or so of plotline available for trauma and such.
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Edoras, and the golden hall of Meduseld, were stunning tributes to the arts and skills of Men. It was lost upon Legolas, who rode silently beside his companions. The citizens of this land were unacquainted with his kind and were unsubtle in their stares. He could feel their eyes on him, the attention like so many insects crawling over his shoulders. It only added to his tension and apprehension. No eyes would meet his as he searched the surrounding buildings and lanes for signs of danger. In particular, sought one Man.
He tried to tell himself he was being ridiculous, that Boromir was dead and would remain that way, that the Ring was far away and not in a position to influence the Ranger at his side. But his heart could not heed his mind. Once conditioned, a creature would follow its master's instructions. A hunting hawk did not cease its tasks when at a distance from its trainer; it would be useless if this were so. And if a mere mortal, or even an elf, if a creature of no exceptional power could bring to bear that sort of influence, how could he rest safe from one with more power and malice than any other? When a kind creature like Mithrandir could return from the arms of death, how could that spectre contain a being whose master relied on magic of any kind?
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Aragorn followed Gandalf's lead as they entered the city, trying to project a calm and friendly air, keeping his hands far from the weapons at his belt and saddle. With one eye he watched the crowd, which parted before the strangers as they wound their paths slowly towards the Hall. He did not expect any dangers here, but in dark times one must harbor dark thoughts.
His thoughts had all been dark of late, he mused. Meeting with a seemingly reborn Gandalf had pulled away some of the dark cloud he had floated in, even as it had added to another one. Legolas' reactions to the resurrection had reminded him only too well of the damage that had been done to the elf's psyche, and he was painfully aware of his part in causing that hurt.
While Legolas had slept, finally, the Ranger had drawn their fourth off a little way…
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"I am glad to see you, old friend," Aragorn said hesitantly.
Gandalf's eyebrow rose. "Ah? Yet you seem rather uneasy with such events."
Aragorn-- fidgeted, was the only real description. It was an odd action in a Ranger, who usually would have complete control over his actions and be nearly elvishly graceful about them. He looked nothing less than a child about to admit to stealing all the cookies from the last baking.
"Legolas' condition…" he began, and trailed off.
The wizard raised a questioning brow. "I had noticed he is…ill at ease. I had thought time enough had passed for improvement." He left it at that, waiting to see what the Ranger would tell him.
"It's my fault!" Aragorn burst out suddenly. "Mine and Boromir's." And the whole story poured out, from the time he'd first felt the Ring's presence around him, to the first time the Gondorian had approached him, all smiles and tenderness. To his rage and confusion while engaging with the other Man. To the pain he had felt when his partner had died, and what he had done about it. He didn't spare himself, leaving out no details, as horrid as they were. By the end of his narrative he was wrung out, seated against a tree as if that were all holding him upright. His head was hung in shame and self-loathing, unwilling and unable to meet the wizard's eyes.
Gandalf remained silent, unmoving. His thoughts raced about, as his eyes rested on the slumbering elf. Reluctantly, he came to a decision. "Whether your actions were entirely outwardly motivated or otherwise, you are still responsible. You will likely be a part of the recovery process, although not for some time I think."
Gandalf looked to the slowly stirring form of the elf and sighed. "Unfortunately, there is not time for him now. All of Middle Earth relies on events of the next few days, and we must play a part in them. I will do what may be done as we ride, but we must to Theoden's aid as soon as he rises. I only hope that this damage can be healed. Elven souls are of light, as you should know. His has not faced so much dark in his lifetime, and now it comes all at once. A flood where little rain has fallen." He sighed again, studying something Aragorn could not see. "We must do what we can."
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There had been no time since then for the wizard to confront Legolas. Aragorn did his best to stay a safe distance from the elf, wishing that he could go back and prevent himself from being such a fool. A dark corner of his mind tried to urge him to confront the elf again, saying that clearly the immortal was inferior and weaker, meant to be dominated. Aragorn ruthlessly crushed that thought, recognizing the foul taint of Mordor in it. It was the feeling he had gotten around that damned ring, and now that he knew it, he would never again allow it to touch him. An involuntary glance at the elf behind him made him wonder if that resolve wasn't too late.
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Gimli had never prided himself on being sensitive to people's feelings. Sure, he could tell at a glance if a sheet of rock held a flaw, or sense the slightest tremor in the stone, but when it came to emotions he was generally lost. It was a novel idea to him, then, when he realized that Legolas might as well be carrying a large sign with his fear displayed on it. From the moment the doorguard Hama had demanded they leave their weapons, the low-level nervousness the elf had contained had magnified into sheer terror. Gimli tried to see it from his friend's eyes.
'He looks around and sees dozens who would hurt him given the slightest provocation, and remembers what a friend did to him. Of course he fears them, stupid dwarf! Is it not obvious? And now unarmed…surely he has had training without weapons, but against an armed warrior that training is often useless.' He watched Legolas covertly as they placed their weapons gently against the wall. The elf seemed to be toying with some thought, and Gimli thought he knew what it was. 'Even I am unarmed now, who have defended him in the past. He fears to be vulnerable.' He lay a hand on the elf's trembling arm, trying to calm him. Legolas smiled slightly at him, his shivering lessening the least bit, and he pulled out the hidden dagger he carried in his boot, adding it to the pile.
:Can't think elves are deceivers: he signed bravely, as if afraid to trust his voice not to quiver. Gimli simply nodded, having some idea how hard it had been for Legolas to lay down his last weapon.
Aragorn, on the other hand, was highly displeased at this turn of events, and his arguments distracted the guards. Gimli rolled his eyes and Legolas' eyes danced in agreement as his hands and breathing steadied. Gandalf glanced at the two from the corner of his eye and winked, leaving Legolas coughing to hide a snicker.
Gimli knew that this was only a temporary reprieve, that his friend was not so healed as he seemed now, but enjoyed the sight of laughter filling the bright creature's eyes. Laughter, he suspected, was as good a weapon as an axe, and better against intangible foes. He vowed to make the elf laugh as often as possible in the future.
Aragorn's arguments had finally desisted, as he bowed to custom. Gandalf, with his silver tongue, was a bit more successful.
"Is this the courtesy of Theoden's Hall? I am old. It is the privilege of age to need help walking. Will you deny me?"
Hama looked at him with an odd expression on his face, as if he wanted to accuse the wizard of playing tricks but did not quite dare, while simultaneously being amused at this act. He acquiesced calmly, indicating that the guards should open the doors. The wizard winked again at his companions, before leading the way into the dim interior.
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^^^
The doors swung closed behind him, enfolding him in darkness as the few guttering torches fought to light the wide hall. Legolas jumped at the sound, looking around nervously as the shadows crept toward him. Over the flickering gloom lay a thick, choking layer of something darker than blackness and more oppressive than heat. He recognized it, and could not hold back the scream that erupted as the touch of Mordor crept across his skin…
Legolas woke suddenly, gasping. He sat up quickly, taking in his surroundings, assuring himself it had been a dream. 'Well, mostly a dream,' he thought uncomfortably. Rising, he slipped silently to the window, turned his face to the stars. A chill breeze brushed his skin, tracing light paths through the lingering darkness that clung to him tenaciously.
Although not cold, he shivered. Gandalf had freed the human king from his spell trapment, dispelling the focus of evil in the hall. He shuddered again at the dream memory of its touch. He could feel it even now, the warped shadows grasping at him, searching for a weakness, for a path in. The elf fought the invasion silently, determined that his mind and soul would not be violated as his body had too recently.
Evil is persistent, but everything will lean towards the simplest path. Against the active opposition the shadows had no chance, and slid away to seek an easier target. Legolas relaxed minutely, his breath coming in desperate gulps as he watched/felt the whirlwind swirl away from him…and focus on Aragorn. The sleeping Ranger was completely unaware of the invasion.
'Like calls to like,' came a hysterical whisper in the elf's brain. He could only stare in horror as the wraiths surged forward in malicious glee, recognizing something in the slumbering Man. Legolas finally wrenched control over his body from the shock that had stolen it, and did the only thing he could think of.
He ran. His thoughts churned in terror.
'Not again notagain nomore…'
The door slammed behind him.
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He found himself in an open courtyard, surrounded by the dead and dying flowers of a fading season. Had he been in a more reasonable state he might have found it fitting, but his thoughts remained focused inward. His footsteps echoed faintly in the silent space, barely audible even to elven ears as he fled.
'The darkness will take him again. It will control him. I cannot survive that again, I cannot allow myself to fall beneath that touch again. I cannot…"
A shadow flickered in the corner of his eye, and he twisted desperately into a defensive stance. He was met by still silence, broken only by the pounding of his heart. The darkness crept closer in his peripheral vision, taunting him, always vanishing when he turned to face it. Every sound, every movement in the night became his demons, the creatures of Mordor come to claim him or drive his once friend against him again.
Distant footsteps caught his ear and he froze in terror, a cry choked in his throat. The sound ceased abruptly, as if the pedestrian knew he had been caught out. In his mind he saw two predators, Human and rough, crouched amongst their shadow-kin, ready to pounce. The shadows in his mind roared in triumph and rose against him, to be met by
light.
'My dear boy, what has been done to you'
Help? Comfort…pain. No, don't…Warmth? No! Touch…away, away!
Restraint- different, calm…safe.
Friend…light.
The light in his mind rose, and blossomed, and eclipsed the darkness, and he fell into its welcoming embrace.
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Gimli found him in the courtyard. The dwarf approached slowly, as quietly as a dwarf ever could. He was under no illusions that he would match an elf or even the Ranger in stealth, but Legolas did not acknowledge his friend's approach. At first glance he appeared to be sleeping. Gimli looked searchingly at his friend's glazed eyes, wondering why the elf had retreated outdoors to sleep, rather than remain with his companions.
"Legolas," he called quietly, not wanting to startle the archer. He was surprised at the lack of reaction. Not a flicker of recognition appeared in the clear eyes. "Legolas?" he asked, louder this time. Dark shadows seemed to dance his friend's eyes, taunting him.
Gandalf's approach, while louder than the dwarf's, still yielded no results. "I see you have found our wayward friend," the wizard said briskly. "Come, we need to…" He focused sharply on the dwarf. "What is it?" he asked, almost harshly.
Gimli frowned slightly. "He…something is wrong," he finally said.
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The dwarf watched the two from his seat in the corner. Aragorn stood just beyond the doorway, half hidden in the shadows. Gandalf had led the complacent elf to a nearby chamber, and was in the process of performing a brief examination. Legolas had not reacted to any stimuli, despite a definitive lack of physical damage. His eyes reacted, his limbs functioned, but nothing seemed to be reaching the elf's inner self. He was less than a child, able to move on his own but disinclined to do so. Even the sudden clang of a dropped platter had not disturbed him, though the others had jumped in startlement.
'This is not what we need now, on the edge of war,' Gimli thought grumpily. Then he felt ashamed. 'Will I now put blame on the wind for blowing? The elf has not done this to spite us. Something must have happened in the night to drive him inwards once again. But this…somehow, seeing him like this is worse than mere unconsciousness.'
He watched as the wizard completed his examination, with no visible result. Legolas was locked securely within himself. Gandalf rose wearily, turning to face Gimli. The dwarf only then realized that the lady Eowyn had entered the room at some point and was seated beside him, looking concerned. He ignored her for now.
"Well?" he demanded.
"It is as we feared; he has hidden from this world. I do not know what could have driven him from us, but we cannot afford delay. I ask you two to watch him during our travels. I will have a word with Theodan and his men as well; they must be made aware that Legolas is as a child for now." He left the room muttering to himself before either could react, drawing Aragorn with him. The Man hesitated a moment, eyes fixed on the unmoving elf, before disappearing down the hall as well.
Gimli grumbled half-heartedly about playing caretaker to a fool elf, but was mildly relieved that he would be remaining near his friend, able to care for him. Eowyn was not so pleased.
"As I am a woman, of course I shall play nursemaid," she snarled. Gimli choked on a laugh at their parallel thoughts and she whirled on him. "I suppose you are entertained by this! No doubt little Eowyn will be left at the bedside when danger nears, to be protected. Poor delicate lady…"
"I have never doubted a warrior's skill, no matter their sex," he interrupted, and had to hide a smile at the shock on her face. "Among my people all are warriors; I see no reason why this should not be the case in other races. Should your skill at blades rival your expertise with a sharp tongue your enemies would do well to fear you!"
He couldn't hide his chuckle this time, as she blushed furiously.
