This chapter was written by not Olympic Gold Penguin, the author of the story, but rather Arknox443275 as Olympic Gold Penguin could not get any inspiration.
And although Arnkox443275 had written 6 chapters for Friday, the 14th, and is a beta for liquid-time's Twin Exchange Monthly Challenge: February, she came together with this (and insisted Olympic Gold Penguin put that here).
I do not understand tears. The scientific definition says, Lacrimation, or lachrymation, (from Latin lacrima, meaning "tear") is the secretion of tears, which serve to clean and lubricate the eyes. Strong emotions such as sorrow, elation, awe and pleasure, as well as irritation of the eyes, laughing, and yawning may lead to an excess production of tears, or weeping.
That hardly had made sense to me as I read it from the internet for my eighth grade science report, and in any fact it hardly makes sense to me today. I seem to shed these tears every night with no specific purpose. I myself had thought that when the Fellowship departed without me, I would stop these tears, but they didn't.
So, according to the article, I'm only suppose to really shed tears for the lubrication of the eye, yet my eyes are shedding these worthless tears every night. Teles understood, as a woman and a friend. She knew that we would give off these emotions and have no reason behind them. She understood. She is gone though, gone with the others in the Fellowship.
I had never said my apologies to Frodo, to Sam and to even Aragorn. I hadn't said a word to any member of the Fellowship other than Legolas, that elf, and the conversation was small, but it helped me.
"Curious, the woods."
"I find it calming," He replied, "I find the reason men neglect the wonders in life pointless."
"I find neglection pointless."
"Yet there is so much in the world, like the neglection to hear reason, that you are not responsible for the death of Gandalf."
I snorted, "You couldn't have expressed that belief to others?"
"Many would not hear reason, and you cannot blame them." His voice was softer than his expression, "They are confused, hurt and feel betrayed by you."
"But I didn't kill him! I hadn't meant to know what will happen. This guilt, Legolas, it's killing me from the inside. I can't take it, I just can't!" Here is where tears come in; they are not to lubricate my eyes this time but rather from some sort of emotion.
"Hold on," He told me, "If you can't do it for yourself, do it for Teles, she misses you."
"I miss her," I tell him, "But she's in danger around me. I'm a grenade, my secrets will one day find a target, and it will kill everyone in its path. And I don't want it to be you people."
"Then don't let it." And with that, he left.
I tried to not let it; I began to ignore parts of the world, to shut things out. I shut out when they left; their departure seemed to the others to have no affect on me though it teared my insides out. I shut out when the lady offered for me to look into her mirror, why know the past, present or future when they appear unwillingly in your dreams? When they haunt your nightmares.
My silence went as unnoticed as my grief. Expect by two certain elves. They were Orophin and Rumil, Haldir's brothers. They noticed my sorrows and unlike the elves that would whisper under their breath that I deserved it, and unlike those merciless elves they cared.
I would hear the whispers in my mind, my dreams and nightmares.
"She's a killer, Mevlana, you stay away from that girl."
"Wouldn't be surprised or sorry if she had gotten executed."
"She's a witch!" One particularly cruel elleth shrieked out, "Carrying around her witchcraft and killing off our Mithrandir!"
Well, I would like to have told her how sorry I was to cause an untimely death, for a star that could have burned much longer, but didn't.
What's wrong with you? I asked myself, he comes back to life; he is not dead, simply battling the Balrog of Morgoth at the highest peak of the lowest dungeon or something like that.
What was wrong with me was that because of my actions, everyone hated me. Because of my secrets, maybe my grenade already went off, maybe this was my destruction. I sunk to my knees in the little cot I had.
Nothing but a moment passed and I walked out the door of my cot. The ground beneath my feet was smooth, many glistening pebbles shining in the moonlight. The elleth's who whispered under their breath whenever I passed were singing now.
"The witchy girl has her spells
She'll tear you to pieces
The witchy girl knows your death
And to herself she'll keep it…"
They held hands in a circle, all three of them, and danced around and around as they sung with their eyes demonic and red. I fled from their taunts but the earth seemed to refuse to move underneath my feet.
The figure, oh I hate figures, limped over to me. It was Legolas. He was pale, lifeless and hardly breathing. But there was one distinct feature on him, red carvings, cuts and blood on his arm. And a knife producing out of his stomach. He fell and I caught him, he was dead.
The carvings on his arm read
This is your fault, all your fault. You are nothing, nothing but a grenade and I will kill everyone in my path to get to you. You have been warned. His death is your fault, all your fault.
And it was. The elleths around me that were dancing with demonic eyes now were choking on air and though I hated their taunts, I tried to save them, like I tried and failed at everything else. They died, and I saw.
Not real, I muttered, it wasn't real. The dream happened like a nightmare, always ones death. It was always a death that hurt me. My entire fault, I am a grenade, and there is no wires that can be cut.
I walked over and out the door, this time with my own feet and mind, and I walked towards the lady.
I reject her offerings, no more. I cannot run from my fears. I cannot run from the tears that consume me. I can fight them, however.
I can fight the fear of my own grenade, and I will.
Dramatic! Let's give one more thanks to Arknox443275 and hope I can come up with my own next chapter.
Question: Have youever been in a situation (obviously not the same as) like Ruth?