Legolas sat in front of the dressing table, looking into the mirror, seeing his dishevelled appearance. His fine golden locks were a tangled mess and sleep was caked around his eyes. He frowned at his reflection in disgust. Picking up the moist washer beside him, Legolas cleaned his face with great deliberation, rubbing at his the imagined grime until his skin was raw.
Tears welled up in his eyes and he swiped at them viciously, angry at himself, at his weakness. He tore at the braids in his hair, struggling to undo them so he could brush out the annoying knots. A gentle knock at the door startled him. Before he had the chance to question the intruders' identity, the door opened with a soft creak and a dark figure, wrapped in a travelling cloak stepped into the room.
"Aragorn?" Legolas asked incredulously as he whirled around.
"You should be in bed and resting!" The Ranger walked up behind him and placed a gentle, reassuring hand onto the elf's shoulder. "Do not worry for me Legolas, I am well" he said to the image of the elf in the mirror.
Silently, he traced a finger down the side of Legolas' cheek.
"Let me help you with your hair" he said, taking the wooden brush out of the surprised elf's hand.
"A-Aragorn?" Legolas asked uncertainly, but the Ranger said nothing, only pressed his index finer against his lips, telling the elf to be silent. As Aragorn started brushing, Legolas shivered with pleasure at the contact. "Are you cold?" Aragorn asked, his concern evident.
"No, I just......Why are you doing this?" Legolas asked as Aragorn took off his cloak and wrapped it around him, totally confused by the messages that the man was sending out.
"Are you playing with me?"
Aragorn looked deep into the eyes of the elf's reflection and said, "After all that you have done for me Legolas, this is the least that I can do".
"You know?!" Legolas asked in alarm, turning his head to look up at Aragorn, unable to read his expression. Aragorn nodded. "Gimili told me what had transpired last night. Thank you Legolas".
"You are not repulsed by me?" Legolas asked, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "You are not repulsed by the fact ........the fact that I'm so 'attached' to you?......that I am a male?"
"How can I be Legolas?" Aragorn asked incredulously, "You saved my life. I can never repay you for your kindness"
Legolas turned back towards the mirror, unable to hide his pain. "Kindness?!" he spat, "You are doing this to repay me for my kindness?" he asked, his voice cracking.
"Of course not Legolas!.........it's because I love you" Aragorn whispered.
At these words, Legolas' head snapped back and he stared dumbly into the man's eyes. "I love you Legolas. I always have, and I promise that I always will" Aragorn repeated himself.
"Estel" Legolas whispered, tears shimmering in his eyes.
Aragorn wrapped his arms tightly around Legolas, and hugged him tight against his chest. The elf closed his eyes as tears of happiness spilled from his eyes.
But just as Aragorn started to lean forward to give him their first kiss, Legolas' world suddenly tilted crazily and everything began to shake. An earthquake?! he thought in disbelief. A heavy tremor suddenly knocked his out of Aragorn's embrace and onto the floor.
Legolas' eyes snapped open, and he blinked several times, trying to shake away his confusion. His eyes focused onto a figure leaning over him, gently shaking him, trying to awaken him. "Aragorn?" he asked uncertainly, but ever hopeful.
"Aragorn's wounds are stilled being looked at Gandalf" Gimili replied gruffly. "We must make haste to Rivendell"
Legolas closed his eyes against the crippling wave of disappointment. Just a dream he thought. Nothing but a cruel, bittersweet dream
"Are you alright Master Elf?" Gimili asked, concerned for his friend. "Is your wound paining you?"
"I am fine" Legolas replied, he eyes suspiciously red. He let out a forced laugh. "I had a silly dream, that is all. Please leave me so I may make myself presentable for breakfast downstairs. We can leave for Rivendell before lunch if Aragorn is able to travel. You.........did not tell him what happened?"
"No. Gandalf thought that it was best if you told him. Aragorn is healing Legolas, it is you that I am worried about" Gimili said, staring hard at the Elf. "I am fine" Legolas repeated, offering the dwarf a reassuring smile that did not reach his eyes. Gimili noted the sadness and grief, but correctly guessing the reason for it, he left without a word.
Legolas locked the door behind him wearily made his way to the dresser. It seemed so real he thought, sitting himself down in front of the mirror. Legolas stared intently at his image. His golden tresses were matted with dirt and grime left over from the battle and dark smudges ringed the bottom of his eyes, giving him a gaunt expression.
The more he stared at himself, the more Legolas realised that something was not quite right about him, about his eyes. Then, the answer hit him like a sledgehammer. They were empty. Soulless. The sparkle that had once made his brilliant sapphire blue eyes glow with life was gone.
How can I ever compare to Lady Arwen, the Evenstar he thought in despair. Estel will never love. He will never be mine. Why do I torment myself so? Silently, Legolas began to undo the knotted braids, teasing out the silken strands. Very slowly, he picked up the hairbrush and began the tedious task of untangling his hair.
Just like the dream he thought sadly, unconsciously going through the motions, not feeling the pain as bunches of hair was pulled out each time he tugged too hard. Unlike the dream though, Aragorn did not come uninvited to help him. The door remained closed, and Legolas remained alone. A chill suddenly swept through his body, reminding him of the poison that was coursing through his veins. He doesn't know Legolas thought desperately. I am dying for him, and he doesn't even know.
His image in the mirror seemed to mock him, and in a rage, Legolas threw the brush at his reflection, which shattered into a thousand pieces. Legolas sprawled onto the dresser, not caring that slivers of the broken glass was cutting into his arms. He buried his face into the crook of his elbow and wept like the hurt and bewildered child that he was.
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