Disclaimer: I own nothing. The full versions of this and all my fics can be found on adultfanfiction.net author ID Shanastay.
Chapter 6: A Part of Me
Legolas woke the next morning feeling refreshed and unusually untroubled. For the past few months nights of truly restful sleep had become few and far between. More often than not he would be visited by one of the visions - ultimately snapping him into awareness, his body tensed and his mind in turmoil. Many of the visions were recurring. The first time was always the worst, feeling a complete loss of control - not knowing what would happen next, assuming he realized it was a vision. The most recent one had by far been the worst and most vivid yet. The recurrences weren't any easier to bear, but he could manage the feelings of terror, anticipating what would happen next.
Legolas let his mind wander as he let the morning sun play against his eyelids. He realized he has slept with his eyes closed.
That is a sure sign of extreme fatigue. That last one drained all my energy.
As his mind drifted Legolas arrived at a sudden insight.
Whatever my connection to this person is, so far it isn't direct, but it's apparently getting stronger. The fact that these visions reoccur over and over must mean they are flashbacks. Just as I relive events of the War of the Ring in my dreams so this woman? she-elf? must be reliving these traumas. It's the same person as the victim every time; of that much I'm sure.
How does anyone go on after that? Not just one time, but being brutally victimized multiple times? One thing shown through - she never gave up. She never stopped fighting. It didn't feel so much like hope as an unbelievable will to live and survive.
Legolas reached his hand up to his face, gingerly touching the bruises. Wincing visibly he verified with his fingers there were indeed no fractures, and the cut under his chin was healing, but would scar.
Placing his hand back where it had previously lain, he became conscious of exactly the position he was in. His eyes flew open and he looked down.
Sometime during the course of the night he had drawn his bow closer to him. His leg was thrown over the lower half of the bow while his arm was wrapped around the upper mainstay, the bow was pressed firmly into his chest, his back curving forward around it. He leaned his head forward so his forehead rested against the upper limb.
Legolas sighed. What does all this mean? It all must be related somehow. But how does this relate to the flashbacks and my new nervous habit?
With growing understanding Legolas frowned, realizing the position he found himself in was very much like a lover's embrace.
Legolas quickly untangled himself and practically bolted across the room, his back pressed to the wall.
One of Aragorn's more colorful sayings flew from his lips, "WHAT IN THE MOTHER-FUCKING SAM-HELL IS GOING ON HERE???" Legolas blushed as he realized exactly what had just exited his mouth.
If Aragornl were here he'd be laughing his ass off right about now.
Legolas covered his face with his hands and let his body sink to the floor. He finally dropped his hands looking toward his bed.
Alright. Let me just sort this out.
He slowly stood up, walking haltingly toward the bed.
What is this new aberration? I was clutching my bow like it was my… salvation? safety? It was actually a kind of sexual feeling… I feel attracted? to it-more than my bow just being a part of me…
Legolas reached into the bed, plucking the bow from between the sheets. As soon as he held it in his hands, he was conscious of something being different. He experimentally drew back on the bow. Letting down on the string it finally dawned on him.
Shooting has always been like second nature, an exercise of habit. But holding his bow right now felt different - like he was holding a lover, not just a weapon. It had become more than an extension of him.
Marveling at this new awareness he placed the bow back on the bed and prepared for the day. He took a hot bath in the sunken pool in the bathing room. The elves of Imladris had tapped the natural hot springs in the area, redirecting the water into specially designed rooms where the water constantly circulated through pools. The rooms were used in common, but the males and females did take care to take turns. There were even interchangeable signs by the door so accidents wouldn't happen.
Thankfully, on this morning Legolas found himself alone.
At least I won't have to explain my injuries to anyone.
He washed up quickly, taking a moment to linger in the soothing heat of the pool. As he cleaned up he discovered a large bruise had formed on the side of his right knee. Where she was kicked… It was tender but with some effort he could walk without limping.
Once he was finished, he headed back to his room, retrieving his bow and quiver, heading down to the practice fields. Legolas took a roundabout route knowing he was less likely to run into anyone else. Once at the practice field he chose a target at the far end, away from any other elves. He had no desire to be questioned about his bruised face.
As he warmed up he marveled at the new-found connection he had with his bow. Before, he would have to get himself into a rhythm. From the very first shot it was like ecstasy, this incredible euphoric feeling just from shooting. Now, the first arrow went into the X-ring (bulls-eye for the non-archers) and not a single arrow had landed outside that ring. It wasn't like he was using the weapon anymore, he was making love to it, with it. Rather, it had become more than just an extension of his arm and will. He barely had to think of where he wanted the shot to go and it went there, along with a growing feeling of arousal.
Lost in the rhythm and euphoria of shooting Legolas didn't notice the dark form watching him from the shadows under the trees.
Legolas finished his last set, retrieving his arrows from the target, aware of the increasingly uncomfortable tightness of his leggings. On his way to the field he had swung by the weapon master and obtained a sword to practice with. Normally he carried a pair of knives on his back in a sheath built into his quiver. Still, Legolas liked to stay proficient with a sword as well and he planned to use the exercise to work out the pent-up sexual energy he had.
You never know when a particular skill will come in handy or you might find yourself fighting with a weapon other than your own. Hopefully the practice will help me calm down as well.
The sword he had chosen was much like the one Arwen carried. It was long and light and slightly curved. Unlike a broadsword it had a single ultra-sharp edge. You could see the elvish craftsmanship in the blade.
Legolas left the practice field looking for a quiet place to practice. So intent was he on his purpose Legolas didn't notice the same dark form was following him.
Legolas quickly found a quiet clearing. Carefully laying his bow and quiver by the foot of a tree he took up the sword, moving to the center of the clearing.
Now what? I have no one to spar with…
Legolas gazed into the blade, letting his mind drift.
Of its own volition his body began to move. Twisting, thrusting, slicing and parrying, he wove intricate patterns with his sword in the air. Every motion was fluidly graceful and perfectly timed. It was an exercise in both power and economy of movement.
As his body adjusted to the new movements, Legolas moved faster and faster through each series. His movements became a blur of lethal motion.
Legolas was so lost in concentration he missed the movement in the shadows under the treed. The form that had been following him detached itself from the shadows. Stepping forward into the light it revealed itself to be a man.
Aragorn, son of Arathorn, stood there, eyes wide, mouth agape.
In all my years with both elves and men I have never seen anyone move like that. Aragorn closed his mouth with a snap. By the Valar… Those bruises, this incredible swordplay… There is much more going on here than Elrond led me to believe… What is happening to you my friend? And will you let me help you?
Suddenly Aragorn realized where he was standing and his potential for discovery. He melted back into the shadows, leaving his dear friend to his exercises.
He will come to me when he is ready... Aragorn glanced over his shoulder one last time before stealing off into the forest. I just hope he doesn't wait until it's too late…
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