Possibly
After attempting to dance with Gimli, I removed myself from the fray and sat at a table soon to be joined by Gimli, Legolas and Eomer. He brought fourth mugs, setting them down on the table. There was a silence and an evil cackle from Gimli. He must have been exchanging a look with someone. "Who wants to play a game?"
The smell of the liquor put me off immediately, so I declined. Legolas on the other hand, did not understand what was happening and got dragged in. "No pauses. No spills." Said Eomer, plonking mugs in front of the competitors. "And no regurgitation." Cackled Gimli. Legolas finally understood. "So it's a drinking game?" I nodded. "Last one standing wins" said Gimli, downing a mug. Legolas took a tentative slurp. This was going to be amusing. I would ask Gandalf to describe the looks on their faces later.
Gimli chugged down a fifteenth mug, while Legolas set down his. They were both handed new ones. I took a sip of my ale, and spat it back into the mug politely as possible, attempting not to pull a face. Whoever had invented liquor was an idiot. This stuff was disgusting. I slid it over to Gimli who drank the whole thing in one slurp, not thinking of the content. "Hehe," he laughed "It's the dwarves that go swimming, with little hairy women." He belched, quite drunk and burning my nostrils with the smell. The resident prince on the other hand, was more subtle. "I feel something. A strange tingling in my fingers. I think it's affecting me." I could hear the lie in his voice, but didn't tell anyone. "Well it is ale." I said to the audience sarcastically, earning a whoop and a small applause. "Well said girl!" Gimli just groaned at Legolas, ignoring the applause. "What did I say? He can't hold his liq.." There was a massive crash and thump as Gimli fell back and toppled off his chair, extremely drunk. I wouldn't envy him in the morning.
"Game over." Stated Legolas, suddenly sober. After several of the men picking up Gimli and taking him somewhere- assumedly a corner for drunks- I walked up to Legolas's side. "Well you're an idiot."
"I'm sorry?" He said, mock insulted.
"You really should have used you're 'superior elveness' to realise the game was happening before you got dragged into it." I spelled out to him sarcastically. "And judging by the sound of you gagging you would have preferred to miss it."
"Well I won't lie. I do prefer wine. But you can't talk, your face contorted every time a drink came near you."
"I don't like liquor. And I'm sensitive, you can't blame me for that." I mock sniffed.
"True. But I bet you would like wine."
"I hate it. And it was wine from your father's halls no less. I took a sip and promptly spat it back all over your floor." I smirked at the memory, remembering the sound of a cleaning ellon sighing 'It looks like Glormindas been at it again." Ahhh, life was so much simpler before.
I heard Gandalf's laugh amongst the crowd and beelined toward him. I despised crowds', they overloaded the senses and gave me a headache. I could hardly pick out one sound or smell and identify it.
I heard Aragorn join Gandalf just before I reached him. "Any news of Frodo?"
"There is no word. Nothing." Gandalf replied.
"There is time. Every day he moves closer to Mordor." The name sent a cold chill up my spine. Mordor, Melkor, they were all too similar. I leaned against a pole and took a deep breath. This was not Angband. The people around me were not a crazy mindless rabble of orcs, they were the people of Rohan. This strange garment was a fancy tunic, not a destroyed shift. That almost silent breathing next to me was not a wraith and that person with the high heat signature was not a Balrog. I grimaced a little. The crowd, the heat and my headache were all getting to me.
I took another breath and my diaphragm stung. Stupid wound, when was it going to heal? It had already been a little less than, and that was with Ent draught to speed it up. Usually any cuts I had healed up in three odd days, but it had been 5 at least. I realised that I was being impatient, Aragorn had told me it would take a long time to heal. That not even the likes of Lord Elrond could fix it, though I found it difficult to believe. But I needed to take to the air, fly a distance comfortably. The last few days cooped up had taken their toll, and even last night's invigoration wasn't what I needed. Another realisation hit me. It wasn't just the last few days, but the whole journey from where we set off from Rivendell. I spent the majority of my life in the air, staying aloft for days, sometimes weeks on end circuiting middle earth at my pleasure. I did not have to sprint, or stay low to the ground or keep my wings against my back for weeks on end. I could fly at pleasure, and I needed to do that again. Obviously not for as long as I usually did, but a few hours at least. Thran (damn) the consequences.
I tapped Gandalf on the shoulder. "I'm going to spread my wings a little, they're getting itchy."
"Are you sure that's wise? You are not yet healed and we don't want a repeat of what happened before."
I nodded my head. "I can't stand it much longer. If you need me, just yell at the sky and I will arrive here. I'm staying in the area." With a swish of my cloak I turned. I didn't need my sight to tell me there was a grave look on his face.
Of course life is never simple. All I had wanted to do is get through the crowd to the door and out into the free air, but as life seems to hate me it wouldn't allow me to do so. Crowds being crowds are almost impossible to weave through without stepping on one person's foot, and when you're blind that makes it even harder. And even in the most noble of houses there is always one bad egg. Around two- thirds of the way to the door, I happened to step upon the bad egg's foot.
"What are you doin'" the man growled at me, the smell of beer coming off him in waves. I kept my face straight, concluding it would probably be better if I stayed polite and emotionless. "Sorry about that." I calmly apologised "I'll be on my way."
I made an unthreatening move to step around him, but I sensed his arm before I stepped into it. "I don't think so. Nobody hit's me and gets away with it." Idiot, I hadn't hit him. He was most definitely drunk.
"I didn't hit you." I told the man calmly, though my mood was growing more foul by the second. "And I am sorry that I stepped on your foot, but I am blind as you probably realise. Please let me get outside."
The man growled, then jutted his head forward. " 'ey, you're a women. You're lucky I dont hit gurls." He slurred his words and took a step back. I made a move to continue on my way thinking he was letting me go. Unfortunately my lack of people skills came through and he blocked my way. Just as I realised his arm was moving, I felt his hand grab my jaw. Dang, I couldn't hear echoes in this hall. "Didn say wad I do with them though." The man's grip tightened and his heat signature was incredibly high. A crazy thought came to me- it must look very amusing considering I was his height. I grabbed his wrist with one hand and prepared to press down on a pressure point.
And was saved. " Darke," Legolas said walking up to me "Care for a dance?" The man's grip relaxed seeing the new threat. "Thank-you Legolas," I said "though I was planning to go get some air."
"And who is this?" He asked feigning interest. I could feel the man's glare bore into me and ignored it. "You're lucky missy." He hissed relaxing his grip and preparing to let go of my chin. Just as this happened I pressed on the point, making him gasp and wring his hand in pain. "I suggest you drink less in future." I told him coolly. "Good- night." I walked off, weaving through the crowd with Legolas at my side.
"So what was with him?"
"I stepped on his foot and he got angry. He was very drunk."
The elf nodded his head. "Where are you going?"
"For a flight."
"Are you sure that's wise after last night?"
"I can't stand a minute longer. I haven't been on a proper flight for months."
He nodded his head in understanding. "I'll leave you too it." He turned back.
The second I felt the fresh air on my skin, my head cleared and my mood became better. I good pick out an individual person's voice now and my head no longer felt like it was overloading from information. What a relief. I made my way onto a deserted balcony where I could feel no-one's eyes on me, shedding my cloak and kicking is against the balustrade. I felt bare without it, this jerkin not covering up as much as I was used to. I realised I should get over my prudency but not now. I was in foul a mood as it was. I could feel my own heat signature rising despite the chill of the night.
I began to stretch out my wings and stopped halfway. Should I do this? Every time I had tried had resulted in pain. Even running caused a result. Was it really worth it? I debated with myself for several minutes, weighing up the options. I was coiled tighter than a wire and I was becoming brittle. Despite my calm outer demeanour, I knew I would soon snap. Which would probably end up destroying something. So I compromised with myself. I would run and see if that caused an effect and if it didn't I would fly. The pain from last night wasn't bad anyway, I thought to myself. It had been the shock more than anything else.
So I jogged down the balcony and there was no effect. I jogged again, slightly faster this time. With every lap I sped up and each time there was no effect. By lap 15 to 20 I was almost sprinting. So on lap 21 I raised my knees and ran as fast as I possibly could. I skidded to a halt, out of breath. But there was no pain. I could do this. I climbed over the balustrade and dived into the space below, gently fanning out my wings and gliding for a while. After 300 or so meters I twitched the very tips of my wings, still cautious but needing to get more momentum. The air tousled my hair and feathers. It felt amazing to glide again.
But I needed to go faster. After several slow lazy circles I was losing my momentum and getting bored. Again I flapped my wingtips and flew straight on, then did a lazy hairpin turn back. By now I was around 700 meters from the hall. I could not stand it. I needed to go at a speed, fly as if I'd jumped off a mountain and was speeding down. I cautiously flapped my wings forward and straightened them to gliding position. I went faster now but there was a small twinge in my side. I slowed down a little and it ebbed away. Then I dared to go slightly faster again and there was no effect. I smiled wryly, enjoying myself. However, despite speeding up I was still at a snail's pace. At this rate it was going 100m in 10 seconds, which may sound fast but was really very very slow. I zigzagged across the sky, going within 500m of the hall then drifting away again.
I had gown flying to release my tension, but it was just becoming worse. My cautious snails pace made me annoyed at myself. By Eru women, if you could survive a thousand years with Morgoth you could risk to fly a little faster! So I did. Facing the hall, I brought my wings to my front speeding up, then to my back.
Not to be pessimistic, but my life sucks. Pain imploded, barrelling through my ribcage, burning my side and straining my sternum. All breath was expelled in one fell wheezy gasp, my diaphragm not responding to breathe back in. It felt as if a nail was being driven through my lung again- no and ice-pick. I squeezed my ribs with my arms, barrelling onto the balcony in a heap. I lay curled up in a ball for what seemed like hours, shivering violently and attempting to get a full breath of air. Nothing was working. One violent shiver sent my arms and legs flying out splayed. Immediately the shivering stopped and the pain stopped feeling like an ice-pick and more like a needle. Eventually the pain ebbed away completely and I lay in horror at my deterioration.
After orientating myself, I decided to weakly get up and make my way to where I had left my cloak. I sloppily put it on, not bothering with the hood. There was soft snoring and slow breathing rumbling throughout the hall, telling me that the party was over and most had gone to bed. If only I could be at peace like they were.
Yet I heard soft voices, worried. "The stars are veiled." I heard Legolas say sadly. "Something is stirring in the east. A sleepless malice." I was almost amused, being to the east of them. Almost. "The eye of the enemy is moving." I heard Aragorn agree then turn back to go to bed. I expected Legolas to follow in suite, but instead he sat with his legs dangling over the edge of some steps. Unsure of what to do or how to pass him, I sat down beside him.
"How was your flight?" He asked.
"Horrible."
"Did you have another attack?"
"Possibly."
"Possibly is as good as a yes."
I almost smiled as we fell back into silence. But I was feeling sad, maybe even mad, though I wasn't sure at what. And sitting next to Legolas was making the strange feeling stir in my stomach. "Are you mad at something?" Legolas asked as I kicked my boot against the stone.
"Only at myself."
"Care to talk about it?"
"I don't know."
"That's as good as possibly."
"How do you know?" I asked myself more than him.
"A women told me."
"I mean how do you know if you want to talk? Something troubles you, yet you know that you don't want to talk. How do you know that?" I almost wanted to shout in exasperation.
"I don't. So I say no until I decide, though I'm not sure if that's even the right thing to do."
"Uncertainty is as good as possibly."
"Agreed."
We sat in silence for a while more, me fiddling with the chain on my neck and Legolas fiddling with some material. Probably his shirt.
He wasn't wearing his usual garments I realised. He was wearing something more tight fitting, more formal. Most likely what he had worn to the feast, though I was too distracted then. "How about a trade?" I decided finally. "Troubles for troubles."
"Alright." Legolas replied. "Do you want to go first?"
"No, you can go."
"Okay." There was a pause. "I'm scared." He admitted. "In all my years I have never faced such a threat, or such a wide spread one. I often dream of my mother, but lately her death has been haunting me in waking and sleeping hours. The news of her death plagues me, repeating over and over, the same distress and grief that I had as an elfling. And it just reminds me of the battles to come." He sighed. "It's quite petty now I realise, but troubles me all the same."
"No." I told him. "It's not petty. No child should ever have to go through the death of a parent. Your mother was an amazing woman and she died at the wrong time. I'm sure she's glad that you remember her fondly." I patted his hand.
He sighed again. "I know, but thank-you. It's nice to hear somebody else say that."
"The Valar are watching her. They better be. Still, I doubt that she would want you worrying over her. The past is the past. Don't forget her, but don't let her memory plague you. And really, what is a sleepless night worth here and there?" I tapped his shoulder.
"Thank-you." He said softly. We sat in a pensive silence for a few minutes, pondering our thoughts.
"Your turn now." He said. "Just don't get overly mushy on me I'm no good at comforting." He joked, trying to lighten the mood. He kept on repeating what I said last night. Maybe he was trying to get me back? But no matter, because somehow that simple joke worked.
"Haha!" I gave a short laugh and grin, though quickly falling back into a sombre mood. I sat in silence for a while, going over my emotions.
"I suppose I'm angry." I finally concluded. "Angry at myself for getting myself injured. And angry that it was my problem that caused me to get injured and for not realising what was happening. I was stupid and unobservant, thought that my abilities would outweigh my disabilities. But they didn't."
"Well," said Legolas "This was a battle. The most able of people have difficulty in such situations, and many have gotten injured."
"But that's exactly my point!" I burst frustrated. My never-ending facade of calm fled me. "Despite my disability I am more able than many, and I still let my weakness affect me. I came close to death Legolas. After millennia of training myself in these situations I still failed, even though I have fought in thousands of battles before. If I can hear a cricket from a league away, I should have been able to tell that there was a Urak with explosives!" I clenched my fist and kicked my heel against the stone. "And I paid the price." I said bitterly, feeling the scars beneath the thin jerkin tingle. My eye's felt like they were burning and my throat was closing up. Was I about to cry? I regained control of myself, my pride not allowing me to do so. No matter my emotions, my pride was worth it. I hadn't cried for anything emotionally- ever come to think of it. Relatively speaking of course, I didn't count my life before Melkor. It was 5 years out of 6500 for Eru's sake.
Legolas patted my hand. "Despite all we do, there is always the unexpected. We can never prepare for it. Did you know that Saruman had blasting powder?"
"No."
"So there was nothing that could be done about it. Don't be angry, especially at yourself. That's not the Darke I know."
I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak yet. Finally I turned my head toward him, though there was really no point. "Tell me Legolas." I said "Do you really believe that I will fly again? Properly."
He was silent. "It's possible. There is always hope."
I knew the answer before he said it. "That's my thoughts too." I said. "But sometimes hope is gone." Deep in my heart, I realised the truth and depth of my injury. It would be pure stupidity on my part to fly- really fly- again.
A burning feeling made its way to my eyes and clogged my throat. I threw my hood up out of habit, hoping to withdraw from the world and my own emotions. And it failed. I felt one hot bitter tear make its way out of my eye and soak the material around my eyes. I fought the rest back, but they would not stay. Like a flood another drop came, then another. The material around my eyes grew damp at the third.
A gentle hand drew back my hood. "What are you doing?" I asked Legolas. "Don't hide." He said softly. "You've kept up barriers for too long, been strong your whole life. Sometimes you just need to let it out." I knew he was right. Where did this strange wisdom come from? But it was the truth, no matter how reluctant I may be.
I smiled wryly and bitterly. "But staying strong is the only Darke I know." I told myself more than him. It was true, so horribly true.
"Then let you be you." Material rustled slightly as he brought his arms to the back of my head. I drew back. "What are you doing?"
"Stay still for a moment."
I felt my eye band loosen, and almost made a grab for it before realising there was probably a reason behind his actions. The ribbon fell from my eyes, my face immediately feeling cooler and the air made my eyelids flutter. I froze, realising that tears still sat on my eyelashes. Just as I thought this, one escaped the corner of my eye and began to make the long trek down my cheek.
"Sometimes the barrier is physical." He told me. "Sometimes it's mental: or it can be both. I see it in my soldiers all the time." Well at least I had an answer to where he got his wisdom from.
"Thank-you." I said softly. I know it sounds stupid, but thank-you."
"You did the same for me." Was the whispered reply. So for an hour we sat, two troubled souls with a feeling of connectedness.
Legolas POV
I would have comforted her, even if she had not returned the favor I realised. I felt as if there was some kind of connection between us, though I wasn't sure what or why. But I remembered the way her hand had fit into mine while we were dancing, the close proximity between us. It had felt unique compared to dances I had danced before- but it had felt right. I remembered the look in her eyes while playing the violin, and her magnificence when flying. She could quite possibly be my closest friend I realised. The only other being Aragorn, whom I had watched grow up since he was a child. I had never felt so willing to share with any other.
Yet I don't think I was quite right. Every time she came near me a warm fuzzy feeling filled me- similar to that of what my friend Tauriel had filled me with, but certainly not the same. Seeing her now I thought she was beautiful. She was certainly not your typical thought of beauty, but seeing her now with a tear rolling down her cheek made me realise that she was. To me anyway. I recalled the last time I had seen her without the eye-band, seeing straight into her soul. I no longer felt guilty of it- she had been willing to share her troubles in return.
And I thanked her for it, because she had finally put my mind at peace. I'm not sure how, but somehow confirmation of my mother now being at peace had calmed the storm raging inside. Only she could do that. A bond built on a great many things spanned between us, though how it was built was a mystery. So for an hour I sat and pondered, thinking of my thoughts and emotions and how they connected.
The final result was one that I did not expect, but as I had said could we ever prepare for the unexpected? I had not even thought that it was probable- let alone the most likely conclusion. I think I was possibly falling for Darke. But isn't possibly as good as a yes?
After all this thinking my brain felt tired as, like it was going to go flop any minute. The warm feeling that came upon me whenever Darke was near was present again. I had a sudden urge to give her a hug. Or kiss her. I quickly decided against both of those actions. I think it was the ale I consumed earlier in the night. Slowly I got up from my position and stood. Darke cocked her head to the side then turned toward me. "Goodnight." she said, her accent showing as it always did. It was nice. Unique.
"Goodnight." I replied. I'm not sure what came over me at that moment, and don't know why I did it. Perhaps it was the ale talking, though it probably wasn't. I bent down and pecked her on the forehead. "And thank-you." I said afterwards, hoping it would explain my actions. But it did not. Not to me anyway.
Darke POV
"Goodnight." I said when Legolas got up, assuming he was going to bed. I seemed to be correct. "Goodnight." he replied. But then he kissed me. I realise that it was on the forehead- not a particularly big deal. But truly, that was the first time I had been kissed, ever. Not on the hand, the cheek, the forehead, not anywhere had I ever been kissed, and this is including before Melkor. Morgoth. My mother had never displayed much emotion from what I can remember- she had been serious, though loved me and Turin dearly. I must take similar traits from that side of the family. And of course my father Hurin had been at war my early life, then had been imprisoned.
So it was my first time. What surprised my though was that is was nice. And long after Legolas had left and gone to sleep, I could feel it tingling on my head, refusing to leave. The warm fuzzy feeling had swelled to the point of bursting when his lips had made contact. I had always expected a kiss to be slobbery, full of saliva but it hadn't been.
It was at that moment though that I figured out what the fuzzy feeling was. From what I had heard from others, it all added up. I was falling for Legolas. Of course it was just a possibility, but possible is as good as yes is it not? The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. The feeling of connectedness, the bond that seemed to bridge between us.
And if I wanted to be entirely truthful to myself, I was quite naive when it comes to emotions. My lifetime had only required a teaspoonful of emotions, most quite negative. Many humans and dwarf's seemed to have a cups worth. By the Valar, even elves had the range of a tablespoon. And my lack of experience in this one area seemed to be showing up to myself. It seemed incredibly obvious to me now what the emotion had been, but having never even experienced a simple crush how could I expect myself to realise something such as this? I could tell that this was no simple emotion, it ran deep.
I was possibly in love with Legolas. But isn't possibly as good as a yes?
A/N: YAY! Hope you liked it, and please tell me if you don't think I did it right. Please FFR :) :) Virtual cupcakes to those who do.
