I felt ill when we reached Mirkwood; it was a little over a month since we wed. I've been mostly bedridden since, the Elvenking lived up to his reputation and had very high standards and very little slack. I do not enjoy his company. He was beside himself to know his son married a non elf. I don't know what I am, I don't think I'm purely human anymore, but I don't think I'm immortal.
It's beautiful here, albeit dark. The halls themselves were a marvel to behold, with wide passageways and spacious chambers carved from the living rock. The craftsmanship was meticulous, reflecting the skill and artistry of the elven people. Pillars, intricately adorned with elven motifs, stretched towards the ceiling, lending a sense of strength and elegance to the great throne room where Thranduil held court. We've been here for three weeks now, my sickness comes and goes. Legolas thinks it's the difference in food. The elvish dishes are all unappetizing to me. I've refused the elvish healers; it's just a stomach issue it'll pass. Legolas too has lost a few lbs as a result, feeling my discomfort and nausea through the bond. Though he never puked himself, he did turn green a few times.
Legolas is often arguing with his father when he isn't at my bedside. He doesn't tell me what they fight about but I'm sure it's because I'm the subject matter at hand. I was restless today since I woke up. I haven't seen much of the Elvenking's Halls since our arrival.
Most of my meals were brought to me, since I had little energy these days. The room itself was not vast it was similar to the one Aragorn provided, but it possessed a unique charm. The walls, crafted from the living rock, had been carefully smoothed and adorned with delicate tapestries depicting scenes of elven lore and the beauty of nature. These tapestries brought color and life to the otherwise earth-toned cave, creating an atmosphere of enchantment. It was so dark though, so dark and lifeless.
A modest wardrobe carved from the same living rock provided storage for my belongings. Within its confines, my garments mingled with elven attire. Since my illness Legolas has not wanted me to wear the thin clothing he packed, insisting I wear the thick elven made tunics and leggings for warmth. In one corner of the room, a sturdy wooden bed stood, adorned with soft furs and plush bedding. The other side of the room there was a door that connected to a small bathroom. My time was often spent in a clumsy sprint in-between the bathroom and the bed.
I think I might be depressed, I feel antsy and anxious like I'm not fulfilling my purpose in these dark lifeless halls. We've stayed longer than planned too, originally it was meant to be a short visit but due to my inability to travel now we've stayed much longer.
My clothing feels a bit tighter too, bloat from the few things I can stomach I'm sure. Married life isn't what I imagined it to be, our honeymoon phase was short lived and now the mere sight of Legolas seems to irritate me. I'm not sure why, maybe it's his ability to not get sick since he's an elf, or how I can feel his joy through the bond as he goes throughout his day.
He walks on eggshells around me, and is always gentle, it's irritating. I'm restless and I hate it here. I sighed bracing myself against the threshold to our room. Legolas was again with his father, I had no sense of time here, everything was dark. I could feel his discomfort building within me; I knew whatever he was doing made him uncomfortable. This bond was a curse. In my darkest moments, I convinced myself that if he truly understood the depths of my suffering, he would somehow take on my burdens, relieving me of the pain and discomfort I experienced. I wanted to leave, but I have yet to voice it. He's my bonded shouldn't he know that already?
My steps into the hall were quiet; every few paces I would need to brace myself against the cold stone. Waves of heat seemed to wrack through my body at random, then chills. I felt weak and lightheaded but I couldn't stay in bed any longer. It was killing me. The transition was gradual, as the rocky passages of the caves gave way to a dappled canopy of ancient trees. Sunlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting dancing patterns of light and shadow upon the forest floor.
I saw no other Elves my entire journey, which would have been helpful and I could have asked for directions. I was in a very sour mood when I finally emerged into the sunlight. It didn't do what I thought it would do, I thought I would feel this instant peace connecting with nature, but instead the light caused a blinding migraine and the nausea was so bad I puked up what little I held within my stomach. In the midst of this discomfort, a lingering sense of resentment began to seep into my heart, fueled by the stark contrast between my suffering and my husband's seemingly unaffected state. The happy little elf now at home and adored by all.
I hated it here; Mirkwood lived up to its name. This was no Greenwood this place was the worst. After my stomach emptied before me, I felt almost fine, aside from the pounding in my head. I followed winding pathways carpeted with moss and fallen leaves. I had no plan or location in mind; I just needed to be around plants again, around light and life. The air carried the scents of wildflowers and earth, mingling with the sweet aroma of the surrounding trees. It was overwhelming and even with my now empty stomach I felt the need to retch once more. As I wandered deeper into the forest, I marveled at the towering giants that stood sentinel, their branches reaching skyward like the arms of ancient guardians. The forest seemed to come alive around me, as birds flitted between the branches, their melodious songs blending harmoniously with the gentle rustling of unseen creatures. The forest floor was a tapestry of life and vibrant hues. Delicate wildflowers bloomed in a riot of colors, while mushrooms peeked out from beneath fallen logs, adding whimsy to the woodland scene.
I plopped down ungracefully at the base of one of the towering trees, this bloat has caused my center of gravity to change, I'm far more clumsy now. It's much harder to get up than before. I dug my hands into the earth underneath me, smiling as soft clover grew under my palms. With a sigh of contentment, I settled myself at the base of the tree, feeling the rough texture of its bark against my back. The tree's energy seemed to flow through me, grounding me in the natural rhythms of the forest. The soft, moss-covered ground cradled my weary body, offering a comforting respite from my wandering.
I missed the Ents, I miss Treebeard. I wish these trees could talk.
I yawned, curling myself around the tree. The symphony of nature's sounds provided a soothing lullaby. The rustling leaves whispered tales of forgotten lore, while the distant songs of birds painted vibrant melodies upon the canvas of the forest. My migraine turned into a dull throb. Above me, the canopy of leaves filtered the sunlight, creating a gentle play of light and shade. Speckles of golden warmth danced upon my skin, my skin was so pale now almost sickly looking from all my time spent within that forsaken cave. As my eyelids grew heavy, I surrendered to the gentle embrace of slumber. The forest's embrace cradled my dreams.
I woke to the gentle humming of my husband as he cradled me in his arms. His voice was soothing, I hadn't seen him all day I should have been happy. But getting woken up and carried back to those lifeless caves only filled me with rage. I thrashed in his hold, fighting against him until he gently set me down. His shoulders slumped slightly, his face was pure confusion and hurt. I glared at him, steadying myself against a nearby tree.
"Lóth nin, please what is wrong?" I hated how gentle he was, as if he would break me. "I want to go home." I croaked before I fell into a fit of sobs. He froze; I knew he thought of earth, and not Fangorn or Minas Tirith. He was completely frozen as I braced myself against the tree and sobbed, his skin was pale and I don't think he was breathing. The warmth that usually radiated from his eyes seemed dimmed, replaced by a distant look that betrayed his wounded heart. His brows were furrowed, the lines etched deeper than usual. His lips, once curved with a gentle smile, now held a slight downturn, reflecting the sorrow that had settled within him. Nausea washed over me in relentless waves, leaving me depleted and weakened.
"You don't mean that, please." He reached a hand for me and cradled my face. His own eyes were welling with tears. "Where's Verya? I want to go home Legolas. Please let's go home." He let out a shaky breath as I spoke; his entire body seemed to sink as the tension he was holding relaxed. He wrapped his arms around me, "You are not well enough to travel," I coughed in response, spit flying from my mouth in my violent sobs. He took that as permission to grab me again and I found I didn't have the energy or willpower to fight him off; I leaned into him as he lifted me off the ground, wrapping my arms around his neck as he carried me.
"Can you get the healers?" I whispered against his chest. His body tensed in response and I felt his grip tighten around me. I knew it worried him, and me relenting and wishing for their ministrations only caused him to worry more. I fell back asleep against his chest, when I awoke again I was back in bed with a room full of elves. Legolas was sitting next to the bed rubbing nervous circles into my hand. When the elves noticed I was now awake one of the darker haired ones began asking me several questions Legolas had to translate for me as they did not speak the common tongue.
"When did the nausea start?"
"Shortly after we arrived."
"Do you mind if I feel your stomach?"
I shook my head, allowing the Elf to lift up my tunic and press gently on my abdomen. I felt Legolas's jealousy rise as the Elf's hands moved along my midsection. His eyes widened and he felt the same spot pressing gently. He spoke a string of elvish that Legolas didn't translate; he motioned for Legolas to put his hand where he held his, which he obliged. So now I had two sets of hands on my stomach, I was annoyed. His eyes widened and his face transformed into the widest grin I've ever seen.
"You are with child," His voice held so much joy.
His body language mirrored his elation. He seemed taller, his shoulders squared, as if embracing the weight of this newfound responsibility with unwavering determination. His arms opened wide, as if inviting the world to share in his joy. His elation, displayed through his beaming smile and shimmering eyes, seemed to ignore the weight of my fears and concerns. It felt as though he had failed to grasp the magnitude of the life-altering changes that awaited us. The disconnect between our emotional states left me feeling isolated and unseen, as if my own experience had been overshadowed by his excitement. We were bonded, he could feel me. He could feel me, yet he still didn't seem connected. This was a mistake; all of this was a mistake. Legolas doesn't understand me the way I thought he did.
I laid there in complete shock; it made sense now that I thought about it. I don't know why I never considered it. Could I be a parent? Did I even want kids? This all felt so soon, so sudden.
"They will give you something for the sickness," His words fell on my deaf ears.
The restrictions and limitations that would come with being the mother of his child felt suffocating, as if the walls of the caves were closing in around me. My breath quickened and my heart began to race with my anxiety. I struggled to find my voice, my words caught in the grasp of panic. The elves' well-meaning reassurances blended into a blur of sound, barely registering in my racing mind. Legolas's grip was tight and his thumb almost hurt in his nervous rubbing. Each breath became a battle, as if the very act of breathing required a conscious effort. My heart pounded in my chest, its rapid rhythm echoing the fear and turmoil that threatened to consume me.
Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision and further exacerbating my sense of helplessness. They were speaking over me now, frantic whispers. Several feet left the room to return and try to shove something down my throat. I fought them, I felt Legolas bracing an arm against my chest and pry my mouth open, he whispered words of comfort in my ear, but that didn't stop the betrayal I felt. The bitter taste lingered for a moment before it slipped down my throat, I choked on it. His grip on my jaw was tight, it was unlike him. He always respected my boundaries and wishes, my jaw hurt.
As the drink took effect, a gentle haze settled over my senses. The edges of my consciousness softened, the intensity of my emotions muted. The racing thoughts that had consumed me gradually receded, replaced by a sense of calm that wrapped around me like a warm, comforting embrace. The weight on my chest eased, and my breaths became slow and steady.
"Legglasss," I slurred out through half-lidded eyes. His hand still gripped my jaw though I didn't feel pain there. "You hurt me," I whispered before darkness overtook me.