Elrohir.
Legolas was a ball of tension beside him. Every muscle clenched and every nerve clamouring for him to run. He watched him closely and could not help but marvel at his strength of will, the determination that kept him there when all he wished to do was flee from them all.
They sat in the dining hall a cacophony of noise and the smells of men. Why Legolas had insisted on being there he did not know and he had argued at length that he should not come but to no avail. Instinctively he reached out to place a hand on his back. A sign of his support, to steady him, but caught himself just in time. His touch would only make things worse. Legolas allowed none of them to touch him.
He was not the only one who noticed his distress, Aragorn had also. And so he should Elrohir thought bitterly.
"Legolas, you do not have to remain here. No one expects it of you."
"I am well, Aragorn." Legolas's reply was cold.
"You are obviously not well. You do not have to do this. We understand."
"You understand nothing. Why is it everyone thinks they know better than I what I need today?"
That, he knew, was directed at him but he was quite happy to let Aragorn be on the recieving end of Legolas's sharp tongue for now. It was not as if he himself had not had more than his fair share of it. Cruel, cutting words that lacerated his soul.
Arwen had been right. It was not the same, but sometimes he wondered if it was, infact, worse. Legolas's acute distress had not lasted but what was left, this cold isolation which cut through his love like a knife caused him even more pain though he had not believed that possible.
Legolas was a raging disaster trapped, it seemed, within walls of glass. He could see him but not touch him, hear him but not offer comfort. Any comfort he did give was smashed into pieces. He could not reach through the glass towards him and Legolas could not break out, unless it was to hurt. Sharp flashes of anger the purpose of which were to cause as much pain as possible to those who loved him.
He watched Aragorn flinch at the words Legolas threw at him and despite himself his heart clenched. A rush of pity swelled in him for his brother for if things between he and Legolas were bad, between Legolas and Aragorn appeared to be irrepairable.
At least Legolas tolerated his presence, even though their time together consisted of Elrohir dodging barbs of distrust. But Aragorn, he could not bear to be near and the words he showered upon him were hateful. Still Aragorn took them, but he paid a high price and he wore his sorrow upon his face, which was tired and weary.
It had become so bad he had tried to intercede, to gain some understanding from Legolas of the damage he caused, but his attempts had been met with a fierce angry resistance and he was ashamed to say he had given up. In the past he had been guilty of wishing to separate his younger brother from Legolas, often times he had imagined it but now it was upon him he found he could not easily stand and watch the destruction of a friendship that had once been so deep.
It was Arwen who acted to end Legolas's obvious distress. It had to be her, the only one he would accept any kindness from.
"Legolas, you do not eat. Let me send a tray to your room and you can eat there, it will be easier."
She reached across the table to him, her hand hovering just above his, a fraction of air between their skin. Even this not quite touch was enough to make Legolas inperceptably draw away. He looked up and caught her eye. She smiled gently and as if her words had given him permission to admit he had reached his limits he nodded.
"Yes."
He watched as Legolas departed, smoothly, coolly, with a brief and reluctant bow to Aragorn, all the while steadfastly avoiding to look him in the eyes.
Arwen then turned to him, placing her hand over his,
"Elrohir, come with me. We shall get some food for him, you can take it."
For a moment he wanted to refuse. He no longer knew if he could stand more time with Legolas, more angry insults and sulky withdrawal. It stretched his limits and caused a bitter pain. But if Aragorn could relentlessly face the ruins of their friendship day after day and still return, still attempt to reach out, then he knew he too could continue. He would go, he could not stay away.
As they left Arwen reached for Aragorn, clasped his hand in hers, kissed the top of his head as she passed and for once he did not feel the usual rush of anger at the display of their love. His brother was distraught, and it tore at his heart. He was pleased she sought to ease that distress though he doubted she succeeded.
He did not knock when he reached Legolas's door. He had learnt from past experience he would only be turned away. Instead he entered unannounced giving him no chance to refuse him. Legolas stood with his back to him rigid and tense.
"Arwen has sent food." He hoped using her name might deflect some of the annoyance at his presence.
"I am not hungry." Was the cold reply.
He considered arguing that he must eat to heal, but that would only end in distress for them both so he chose not to. What was the point?
Legolas did not turn round and he stood uneasily uncertain what his next move should be. He longed to depart but his love pulled at him to stay, whatever was thrown at him in attempts to drive him away.
"I am tired, I go to bed."
Well he was not wanted then, that much was obvious. Still he was reluctant to go so soon and stood watching as Legolas pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his back to him. The scars of the attack were stark against the pale skin. A back laced with ugly red marks and partly healed wounds.
He was shocked. He had not seen it since the day they first found him and had tried to forget what lay under the bandages and clothes. It was a brutal reminder of all that had occured. Of why they stood so far apart from each other now. The cause of those walls of glass behind which Legolas sheltered.
Before he knew what he was doing he drew near and touched it, running his hands gently across rough scar tissue. He felt Legolas gasp at his touch but for once he did not withdraw. Why had they done this? His heart ached with untold sorrow at the damage inflicted on the one he loved. Suddenly unbidden and unwanted a vision flashed before him. His mother's back had looked like this, before she sailed, for they had tortured her too. He snatched his hand back as if burnt and staggered away in horror at the memory he tried so hard to avoid.
Legolas spun round, his face white, his eyes wide.
"Do I repulse you?" He snapped.
"No!"
Nothing could have been further from the truth and he hurried to make amends for his error.
"You are beautiful." He said, and he meant it. " Still beautiful... I am sorry, it was a memory I didn't expect...my mother..."
He never spoke to Legolas of her, only with Elladan and Arwen did he share that grief. For a moment a crack appeared in the glass and he saw on his lovers face a look of deepest compassion. Finally a glimpse behind the pain to the sweet, gentle soul he knew was still buried below. But then the shutters came down, the eyes slid away from his and the walls enclosed him again as he turned away.
Elrohir sighed and turned to go, he felt weighed down by loss, he had no energy to battle further that evening. He was stopped by a question, sudden and unexpected.
"Will you stay?"
He swung around. His astonishment clear on his face and Legolas turned back to him.
"I cannot sleep, my dreams are...unpleasant. If you are here... I am so tired Elrohir."
Hope surged within him for he had never dreamed of being asked that.
" Of course I will stay. Of course!"
And for the first time in days he felt relief.
...
Legolas.
He stood, alone in his room and wept. The dining hall had been a torrid experiance. So many men surrounding him had made him fearful and anxious. He had gone to prove to himself that he could do it, that they would NOT win. They would not take it all from him. He was strong, he would survive.
But in the end he had lasted no time at all before he grabbed Arwen's excuse to leave with both hands and ran. He was kidding himself, thinking he could conquer it, this all consuming fear that crawled over him morning and night. His anger at himself and his weakness spilled out and affected all of those around him.
He felt numb inside, a block of ice and he could not connect with any of them. Hours he spent when he was alone weeping for all he had lost. His lover, his friends, and yet when they came he pushed them all away.
Eventually Erohir arrived as he had known he would, with food he did not want, and he felt his uncertainty, the sadness cut him to his core, that they had come to this. Dancing round each other in fear to come too close.
He would rather he left so he was not constantly reminded of the gulf that was now between them and so he made it clear he did not want him, when in truth the reality was he craved his closeness with all his heart.
When he removed his shirt and Elrohir touched him he gasped in surprise, it had been so long since any of them had come that close, he had forgotten what it felt like. Despite the tension that surged through him he did not run but stayed absolutly still, almost enjoying the feeling of those fingers stroking his scars with love. Almost but not quite, but he tolerated it. Then Elrohir jerked away in horror and another bleeding wound was opened in his soul.
" Do I repulse you?" He asked for surely he did, he knew what it must look like. But instead Elrohir spoke of his mother, which he had never done before, despite his many attempts to get him to open up to him. When he saw Elrohir's pain written starkly on his face for a second he forgot all his own burdens. He wished to reach out to him, comfort him and he nearly managed it before the walls closed in and he was trapped in his misery again.
He heard Elrohir sigh and start to leave which was what he had wanted but suddenly he could not bear it. Could not bear to be alone any longer. For the first time his desperation for closeness overrode his fear.
" Will you stay?" He asked. And the hope that shone on Elrohir's face almost changed his mind for he feared he would just hurt him yet again.
" Of course I will stay, Of course!"
Now he had started speaking, started asking for help, it all flowed out.
" I need you." he pleaded.
" You have me, always. I will do anything you need, anything you want."
The problem was he did not know what he wanted. Life was a confusing mess of pain.
He sat and his tears started to flow. It had been days since he had wept in front of anyone. It was weakness and he had been determined he would not show it.
" I do not deserve you... or Aragorn..." He could not continue.
He felt Elrohir's hand on his shoulder and he shook it off. It was a reflex now, to reject all touch.
" He understands."
" How can he understand," he cried, " When I do not myself? I do not wish to hurt him, but he... he reminds me of them."
It torn him apart, the overwhelming anger he felt when he saw his friend. When they were apart he told himself Aragorn was not to blame, he was not the same as the men who attacked him. But despite his resolution to not let it overtake him, everytime Aragorn was near it all poured out vitriolic and aggressive. He could not stop the burning need to hurt, to hurt him as badly as he had been. But it caused him so much pain watching the damage he caused. Yet he could NOT stop.
"He is not them." Elrohir sat beside him now. " Aragorn is a good man, he loves you."
It was strange to hear him speaking thus. Elrohir's relationship with Aragorn was tense at best he knew and his jealousy of his own friendship with him had caused many arguments between them. He wondered what had changed to make Elrohir suddenly defend it.
All he knew was that he could not stand another night alone haunted by the nightmares.
"Will you lie next to me? Hold me while I sleep?"
Elrohir was taken aback.
"Legolas,You ask too much of yourself."
But he was determined. He needed this to make him whole. Somehow he would achieve it. As it was though, Elrohir was right. As he lay enfolded in his embrace he could not relax, he did not enjoy it, did not gain the comfort he needed. It made him ache for what had gone before, for nights past and as he remembered, silently his tears fell.
But eventually he slept and he did not dream. Briefly when he awoke all he knew was the feeling of his lovers arms and it was good. It eased his soul, it was as it had always been and the love surrounded him and warmed him. But then as he came to awareness the fear returned, the memories flared and he stiffened in the embrace and shook it off.
The walls around him returned and all was pain once more.