~ Wynne and Legolas talk about serious matters (plus do some cuddling). ~
48. Cheering Up an Elf
Wynne tiptoed through the corridor until she found the right door. Knocking once, she fervently hoped Thranduil, whose room was nearby, wouldn't hear too.
There was a slight shuffle and then Legolas opened. He wore a night robe as well, darker and of a more masculine cut. He looked tired.
"Can I come in?" Without waiting for an answer she dived under his arm and went to sit on his bed. His room was almost a copy of hers, sharing the same view of the park.
"You should not," he murmured, but instead of turning her out he closed the door and sat beside her, drawing his knees up to rest his chin on them.
The posture made him appear younger than usual, and very unhappy.
"I made a fool of myself tonight, didn't I?" she muttered. "Running out like that... in front of everyone." With everyone she meant Thranduil.
"I understand why you did it. I heard what you said to Ada." He sighed. "I should not force you to live a life with servants, dresses and finery you never asked for. I have been selfish. And foolish... It was a stupid dream. A castle in the air."
"Don't say that." Wynne bit her lip to refrain from crying. "I can handle it. I can learn..."
"You shouldn't have to. I do not want that life for you." He looked at his toes peeking out from under the robe. "I don't even want that life for myself, for the Valar's sake... These past months on the road, and before that, during my time with the Fellowship... that kind of life is me. I'm not cut out to be a leader, to give orders and manage a kingdom." He wiped away a tear. "And I hate living in a cave. Our palace is underground, as I think I mentioned, and when I was little I'd sneak out all the time to run in the forest. And Ada would have his guards bring me back, and I'd be locked up in my rooms for days." The words came tumbling out, quite unlike his normal refined way of speaking. "I knew I'd be caught but as soon as I was released I sneaked out again anyway."
Wynne silently wrapped her arms around him, not knowing what to say or do. Perhaps it was enough to just be there.
"Ada had to give in eventually and allow me to go out when I needed to. He'd send Galion along to babysit me, usually." He laughed mirthlessly. "Poor Galion. But I never liked stone. I never liked cities."
"I agree. They should put some trees in them. And flowers. I can have a word with Prince Faramir about that. It would be just what Osgiliath wants."
"Trees and flowers in a city? You are strange." He smiled weakly.
"I think it's a great idea." She pulled on his shoulder until he lay back on the bed where she could stretch out beside him. "I would love to run through a forest with you. Without Galion, preferably. I can think of many things to discover just the two of us." She put innuendo in her voice.
His eyes were still misty when he returned her gaze. "I would love that too." He pulled her in for a hard kiss.
She felt his longing, his need for her, and her body became aflame with the same emotions. The kiss grew intense and hungry. Their bare legs touched and intertwined, skin against skin.
When lying down, their height difference was no hindrance and Wynne pressed herself against his hardness. The sensation was unlike anything she had experienced before. She was on fire and wished there were no clothes at all between them.
As she had done once before, she slid her hand under his shirt. Her fingers trailed his silky chest, exploring the unfamiliar landscape.
Legolas hesitated to follow her example and she remembered her reaction that time. Taking his hand, she guided it to a breast. "Touch me."
He obeyed and this time she was prepared. This time she didn't flinch when he cupped it. Instead his touch increased her need for him, and when his thumb softly rubbed her nipple she almost stopped breathing. All she could think of was how good it felt, and how her body responded.
"You are so beautiful." His voice was husky. "No matter how bad I feel, just being near you makes it better."
"Then you must understand this has to be. It's not a stupid dream." She kissed his forehead. "And you're no more selfish than I, who would force you to watch me grow old and die while I have a young husband all that time."
He rubbed away another tear. "Losing someone is hard," he admitted. "But I know it would be worth it. Even a short time of happiness is better than an eternity alone."
They kissed again, a slow kiss full of feelings.
Then she remembered the reason she had come tonight and her intention to cheer him up. "What has been on your mind lately?" She pulled back so she could meet his eyes. "You have been quiet ever since Rauros."
He looked away. "Many things. War... death... the sea. I don't really want to talk about it."
"Perhaps you should, though. I find it often helps... You know, like I have done about the orc kidnapping and when I told you how I evaded the lake monster. You always comforted me afterwards. And now I want to comfort you." Her chest swelled with sympathy. "I don't want you to be sad."
He frowned. "I told you I don't want your pity. Or anyone's."
"You sound like it's a bad thing. Whether I feel pity or sympathy or whatever it won't matter because I love you. Like in the orc cave when you were sick. It only made me love you more to see that you were real, and could hurt, and could be afraid – just like me." She paused to draw a breath, suddenly overcome by emotion.
He looked surprised at her outburst. "You are strange," he said again, but he made it sound like a compliment somehow.
"No. I just want to share your burdens – and you to share mine." She pulled his face closer, boring her eyes into his. "It's because I care about you, you dumb elf."
He snorted.
"I know you're hurting and missing your friend who died and that's alright." She kissed his cheek and then his lips. "I know horrible things must have happened to you during the quest that time. I still think talking about them would make you feel better."
"Hm." She could see emotions flicker across his features as he pondered this. Then he gave her a resigned smile. "Alright then. It is just that the past days I have relived some rather horrible memories... of the war. Memories I had hoped were safely buried." He rolled onto his back, looking at the ceiling as he spoke. "At first, after Sauron's defeat, I had decided to travel to the sea. I had seen seagulls and they reminded me that we elves have another option than dying; we can sail to Aman, the Undying Lands, and I had made up my mind to do so soon. I figured I could find healing there, and a way to forget."
Wynne had heard of Aman, the island in the far west to which only elves could get.
"But then I returned home and realized how my quest had affected Ada. He and I were always different and I have never really understood him, I think, but that day I understood him better. How lonely he is and how many he lost... his friends... his parents... his wife. How his heart would break if he lost me too."
"Couldn't he sail to Aman as well?"
"For some reason he has stayed in Middle-earth despite all his losses. I almost got the impression he is afraid to go, though that sounds strange."
"What happened to your mother?"
"I killed her when she gave birth to me. Aye, I know it was not my fault," he added before she could object.
Wynne's heart ached for Thranduil. No wonder he found it hard to let go of his son if he had nobody else left, and nowhere else to go.
"When I left with the Fellowship it was against Ada's orders. I was only meant to bring a message to Elrond and then return, but instead I did like when I was an elfling and ran away. That time, though, I didn't go on a harmless walk in the forest to climb trees or practice with my bow. This journey was dangerous. It could have killed me or maimed me. And it changed me. I was not the same elf when I returned." He sighed heavily. "And so I decided to stay for his sake, and try to forget everything without leaving Middle-earth. It worked. Until Rauros... When I saw that place again where we lost Boromir everything sort of came back to me."
"I am glad you stayed or we wouldn't have met."
He pulled her closer without replying.
"Tell me about the quest."
"Again?"
"You didn't tell everything the last time."
"Nay, I did not."
"I want to hear it. Those bad memories – tell me about them."
This time he obeyed without persuasion, voice soon becoming unsteady with emotion.
When his sad tale unfolded Wynne couldn't hold back her tears. She had never really thought about what the members of the Fellowship had endured. Her own experiences this summer had been dangerous and frightening many times, but that was nothing in comparison. Legolas had been through countless terrifying situations and seen so much death and pain close up.
He talked about loss; the pain of losing a friend forever. Boromir had been a mortal and he would never see him again. But there were others too, men he had only known briefly, but fought together with and then seen them die.
He also described what it had felt like to kill. Not orcs, for at that time he had thought them little more than animals, but humans, such as the Corsairs and the Haradrim. He had heard their shrill cries in pain when his weapons cut them and spilled their blood, felt their fear, watched the light fade in their eyes as they died. He had so many lives on his conscience.
Wynne felt nauseous at that. The loving and kind elf beside her, whose tears were wetting his pillow, was also a killer. It didn't fit into the picture; as if that puzzle piece belonged to someone else. But killing was what warriors did.
"I see their faces sometimes at night, like they have come back to judge me," he murmured, remorse tinting his voice. "I hear their voices too. 'Was it really necessary to shoot me?' they ask. And I think of what I have done. Children orphaned, women made widows, all because of me. Most of the enemies probably just obeyed orders, they had no choice – like Nugu. And I killed them." He silenced, drawing a ragged breath.
"You had no choice either," she replied firmly. "It had to be done or we would all have been doomed."
"I know, I know. It still hurts to think about."
"And that's why you are not like Sauron and the bad people. Because you hated what you had to do." She kissed away a tear from his cheek.
He didn't reply.
Wynne started to comb through his hair with her fingers, trying to soothe him. First now, she could begin to fathom the enormous sacrifice they had made to save Middle-earth; the Fellowship, the soldiers, everybody involved.
She wondered if the others she had met also suffered. Did Gimli, Faramir and Éowyn lay awake at night, reliving the horrors, seeing ghosts from the past?
"Do you think less of me?" It was barely more than a whisper.
"Of course not."
"But I'm weak." He barked a short laugh that sounded like a sob. "Just a fine warrior I am, crying over dead enemies. Afraid of the dark."
"Weak? Afraid? You?" She huffed. "You forget all the times I've seen you battle orcs and lake monsters and trolls and..."
"The troll fight went well, aye," he said bitterly.
"You never hesitated to attack and you didn't run even when it hurt you."
"But I feared it."
"Of course you did, you're not stupid. I think it's braver to be afraid and still go out and do what you have to do."
"Oh Wynne, I love you so much." His voice was distorted. "Thank you for comforting me."
"When you're sad, I'm sad, remember?" She hugged him close, wishing she could take away all his bad memories. But that was impossible. He would have to learn to live with them. "I'm glad you told me. I don't think keeping everything inside you was good."
Her fingers resumed their caress of his hair and after a while she felt his body relax and his breathing become even.
"You were right, it does feel better," he murmured drowsily. "Please, stay with me."
"I will never leave you," she breathed into his hair.
But of course she had to; this was not out in the wilderness, there would be servants talking if they found a lady in the prince's bed. She waited until she heard he was asleep, and then silently untangled herself from his warm body.
When she closed the door behind her she nearly bumped into someone, a stout figure coming out of the opposite room.
"Gimli!" she whispered, surprised. His own room was in another corridor.
The dwarf started, looking guilty. Then he saw where she had come from and his expression changed into a knowing grin. "I didnae ken ye were that close already," he sniggered. "I thought elves were all proper about... such things."
"We have done nothing wrong," she retorted, annoyed by his insinuation. "As I am sure you haven't either."
"Me? Ehm." He coughed. "I'd better be off. Getting a wee late! Night-night, lassie!" He hurried away, his embroidered night robe billowing behind him.
A/N:
I'm no fan of wars, as you probably figured... When I wrote this story in 2020 I had no idea there would soon be one breaking out close to me, or that my country would abandon its neutrality and apply to join Nato... :(