[Reviews - 0]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story
- Text Size +


-----------------------------------------

Part 1

Aragorn couldn't take his eyes off of the Elf as he watched Legolas
disappear deep into the woods. The truth was he had never been able to.
Legolas was the most beautiful Elf Aragorn had ever seen. But this was
not the same Legolas he had known all those years ago. The Ranger
remembered when Legolas always had a smile on his lips and laughter in
his voice. Could someone change so much that they scarcely resembled
the friend you once knew? And they had been more than friends, hadn't
they? Aragorn remembered furtive meetings, passionate embraces,
stolen kisses. But then Thranduil had unceremoniously thrown Aragorn
out of his palace and had him escorted to the borders of Mirkwood. It
was not until returning home that Elrond had explained why. The King of
Mirkwood had found out about Legolas and the young human. Thranduil
forbade same-sex relationships in his kingdom. Relations between
Rivendell and Mirkwood had not been the same since.

Aragorn had never forgotten Legolas. He had never before or since felt
such blazing, aching passion for another. So when he had seen Legolas
at the Council and when the Elf had so vehemently defended him to
Boromir the Ranger believed he had a second chance. This, however,
was not the case. Legolas did everything in his power to have as little
contact with Aragorn as possible. He barely spoke. When he slept he
kept his bedroll as far from the man as he could. And there was
something in the archer's eyes. A look of cold misery was ever present.

Boromir had told Aragorn he could not rest and now it seemed sleep
evaded the Ranger as well. The man rose to his feet. He had made up
his mind. Tonight, in the woods of Lothlórien, he would have answers.

Legolas sought solace deep in the heart of the Golden Woods. He had
climbed up into a tree, sitting on a sturdy branch. He was far enough
away that the lament for Gandalf did not reach his ears. He closed his
eyes, trying to purge his mind of all thought. His lips moved in silent
prayer, willing nothingness to fill his mind. This was what the healers had
taught him. This was the path to clarity, to truth. This was the way to
eradicate all sin, all evil from one's soul. It had never worked.

Legolas opened his eyes. Only one image formed in his brain. The
source of his wickedness. The reason his father looked on him in disgust.
The reason that even though he was the oldest of Thranduil's sons, he
was not named as his heir. Aragorn filled his head. He could recall every
kiss they had shared. Every touch of his skin burned forever in his
memory.

In the years since Legolas had last seen the Ranger it had not gotten any
easier. He had depraved, lustful dreams of the human nightly. And now
that Aragorn was so close all the time... Legolas felt temptation begin to
consume him. He felt Aragorn's eyes on him, could feel desire pulsing
from the man. It would be so easy to give in. Tears slid from Legolas
eyes. He wanted so much to be good. But he wasn't. He was sinful and
unworthy of love.

There was only one thing he could do. These feelings had to be
punished. That was what his father had taught him. When the meditation
didn't work one had to resort to more drastic actions. Legolas
remembered the night when Thranduil had discovered his son's
wickedness. The Elf had seen the look in his father's eyes and knew he
was going to be punished. Thranduil had forced him to strip and then
Legolas had seen a blade glinting in the light. At first he feared his father
meant to kill him. But no. Thranduil handed Legolas the blade and then
instructed his oldest child on how to discipline his flesh against the
sickness that festered in Legolas' heart.

Legolas' fingers began unfastening the pearly tunic he wore. Carefully he
slid the garment from his body, folding it meticulously and laying it on the
branch beside him. From the side of his boot he drew a small elvish
blade. It was the same metal as his long twin knives. There was a word
carved into the hilt. "Freedom," he whispered, reading it out loud. "Free
me from my sin, please," he breathed as he slowly brought the knife down
against the smooth white flesh of his inner arm and cut.

-----------------------------------------

You must login (register) to review.