The Price of Pride
folder
Lord of the Rings Movies › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
67
Views:
2,684
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Category:
Lord of the Rings Movies › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
67
Views:
2,684
Reviews:
32
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings book series and movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 66
A/N 1: Sorry for the long delay in posting the next chapter. I have been unable to get on the server here for weeks. If anyone doesn't feel like waiting for me to update here, all the chapters I have written (118 to date) are at http://www.ofelvesandmen.com/StoriesbyAuthor/A/ArielTachna.htm Now on to the story
A/N 2: This chapter is dedicated to Donna, Cin, and Jean who helped me get my thoughts in order.
Elvish translations
Hannon chen – thank you
Mellon nín – my friend
Chapter 69
We all stayed close together as we made our way into Moria that night. Though we had walked all day, the darkness was so oppressive that we did not want to stop. So we walked on for several hours, until sheer exhaustion forced the Hobbits to their knees. If they had not been with us, I would have begged Gandalf to keep walking, to keep pushing toward our goal. As long as we were moving, I could push back the panic that was engulfing me. When we stopped to rest, I had nothing else to occupy my mind. Only the lack of air, the lack of light, the lack of all that was green and growing, all that sustained me. Gimli did not rejoice in these walls of stone as he did later, in other caves we visited together, but I could see him examining the rock, running his fingers along the veins, almost as if he was drawing strength from the stone the way I drew it from the trees. I looked carefully around the chamber of stone where we had stopped to rest. It was easily defensible, if it came to a fight, with only two entrances. We would stand watch, but we would also take turns sleeping, if we could. Boromir and Aragorn drew first watch. The Hobbits were asleep even before such decisions could be made. Gandalf settled down quickly as well, puffing on his pipe until sleep overtook him. Gimli finished his explorations and settled down to sleep as well, more comfortable under tons of stone than he could ever be under an open sky.
I shifted restlessly as I tried to force my mind to stillness, to reverie. To no avail. The darkness taunted me, pushing me to the edge of panic at the thought of never again seeing the sky or feeling the wind on my face. How long I sat there, trapped in a nightmare of my own creation, I do not know. I must have made a sound of distress, because suddenly Aragorn was at my side, his hand on my shoulder.
“What is it, mellon nín?” he asked. “Did you see something?”
“Nay,” I replied, switching to Elvish. Boromir, at least, was still awake, and I had no desire to share my weakness with him. I did not really want to share it with Aragorn, either, but that no longer seemed an option. “The darkness is affecting me,” I told him simply.
“It is no darker than a stormy night,” Aragorn said. “Can you not imagine that you are in a dark room on a stormy night?”
“It is a different darkness,” I countered. “On a stormy night, I would hear the wind howling in the trees or around the eaves of the house. I would feel the wind on my face or see the lightning and know that the world was alive. There is no wind here, no sound, only darkness. I feel cut off from everything and everyone I have ever known.”
“Everything, perhaps,” Aragorn replied, “but not everyone. You are among friends, Legolas. Do not forget that.” As he spoke, he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I grabbed onto that hand, ashamed of my panic and need, but unable to overcome it. He accepted my grip, not pulling away when I tightened my hold. Seeing that I was not regaining my equilibrium as quickly as he hoped, Aragorn squeezed my hand and said, “Wait here for a moment.”
He rose and went to speak to Boromir. He must have told Boromir that I would take his watch, for the man nodded and went to his bedroll. Then, Aragorn returned to my side. “I did not think you wanted the others to see you like this,” he said softly.
“Hannon chen, Aragorn,” I replied, just as softly. “They would not understand.” I could tell that Aragorn did not really understand either, but he said nothing, sitting down beside me and letting me latch on to his hand again. The contact helped. At first. Then the darkness closed in around me again, pressing on my mind, leaving me wallowing in a depth of despair I had not felt since my father had taught me to draw from the trees. Out of habit, my mind reached out, searching for a source of strength to dispel the darkness in my mind, but there was nothing. I could not even touch my father’s mind, something I had been able to do since he created the link between us that had sustained me for months. I must have begun to shiver because Aragorn’s arms came around me, pulling me against him, something he had not done in almost sixty-seven years.
“Legolas, what is going on?” he demanded. “There is more to this than you are telling me. There has to be.”
I could not answer him. Not did not want to answer him. Not chose not to answer him. I could not. My mind could not find the words, nor my tongue form them. I was caught so completely in the terror of mying ing nightmare that even the touch of his body against mine, even more powerful than just the touch of his hand, could barely reach me. That contact was a double-edged sword. I had longed for the feel of his body, yet the touch was a reminder of all that I had foolishly thrown away through my own stubbornness.
The tremors increased as I struggled with myself within my mind. One detached part of my mind knew what this was: an attempt on the part of the Ring to rid itself of an obstacle to its goal. And so I struggled to throw off my despair, to rise above the two temptations of the Ring: to end my suffering or to take what I really wanted. I would not succeed in the first. Aragorn was right next to me. If I reached for my blades, he would stop me before I could hurt myself. He was right next to me. All I had to do was turn my head and our lips would meet. Arwen had given permission, the Ring whispered in my heart. I would not be betraying her if I were to kiss him again, lie with him as I had dreamed of doing so many times. That temptation was so much harder to resist. Aragorn had desired me once, even if he had never loved me. Surely his desire had not died completely. I needed only to kiss him, caress him, and it would reawaken. Arwen said he had doubted even her. Perhaps he would return to me, believing her gone.
“Legolas?” Aragorn’s voice broke through the turmoil of my mind.
“The Ring,” I answered. “It whispers to me. The darkness is bad enough. The Ring makes it torture.”
“Hold on to me,” Aragorn replied. “Focus on me.”
“I am trying,” I whispered, not telling him that the Ring was using him as a part of its temptation.
“You must fight this,” Aragorn urged.
“I will fight as long as I can,” I assured him, “but my strength is not here. I cannot feel the trees here, to reach for the energy that strengthens me.”
“Draw from me,” Aragorn offered.
“And when you weaken?” I asked.
“The Ring is crafty. Here in the darkness, you are the weakest of us all. It will focus on you while it can. Once we are out of Moria, it will choose another. If it chooses me, you will have to help me, there where you are strong.”
His offer was tempting. There was that feeling again. Temptation. While I struggled with my decision, he took charge. His hands came to rest on either side of my face, and his mouth came down on mine, a firm but gentle kiss. “Draw from me,” he repeated.
Love burst through me, shutting out the darkness of the mines and the temptation of the Ring. Nothing existed except Aragorn. “What about Arwen?” I asked.
“I love Arwen, and I always will, but she asked me to watch out for you just as she asked you to watch out for me. If you fall victim to the darkness or to the Ring, I will have failed her. I have already failed her once. I will not do it again, even if shenot not there to know,” Aragorn vowed.
I was puzzled at his words for a moment. Then I remembered what Arwen had said about Aragorn wanting her to leave for Valinor. That must be the failure he was referring to. It certainly explained why he thought she would not know if he kept his promise. I also remembered her telling me that she would not leave Aragorn, regardless of his doubts. That meant that Aragorn would have to give her an accounting of his actions, if we survived this quest.
The kiss had steadied me enough that I could smile at him for a moment. “We will not fail her, mellon nín,” I promised. I did not move from his embrace until it was time to wake Gimli and Gandalf for their watch. I arranged my bedroll near Aragorn’s, but did not move closer than that. With the hold of the darkness and the Ring broken, at least for the moment, I could focus on the love I felt for him and for Arwen, using those feelings to stave off a return of the fear and panic I had felt earlier. Aragorn might not love me the way I loved him, but he did care for me enough to help me in my distress. I prayed to the Valar that I would always be able to do the same for him.
A/N 2: This chapter is dedicated to Donna, Cin, and Jean who helped me get my thoughts in order.
Elvish translations
Hannon chen – thank you
Mellon nín – my friend
Chapter 69
We all stayed close together as we made our way into Moria that night. Though we had walked all day, the darkness was so oppressive that we did not want to stop. So we walked on for several hours, until sheer exhaustion forced the Hobbits to their knees. If they had not been with us, I would have begged Gandalf to keep walking, to keep pushing toward our goal. As long as we were moving, I could push back the panic that was engulfing me. When we stopped to rest, I had nothing else to occupy my mind. Only the lack of air, the lack of light, the lack of all that was green and growing, all that sustained me. Gimli did not rejoice in these walls of stone as he did later, in other caves we visited together, but I could see him examining the rock, running his fingers along the veins, almost as if he was drawing strength from the stone the way I drew it from the trees. I looked carefully around the chamber of stone where we had stopped to rest. It was easily defensible, if it came to a fight, with only two entrances. We would stand watch, but we would also take turns sleeping, if we could. Boromir and Aragorn drew first watch. The Hobbits were asleep even before such decisions could be made. Gandalf settled down quickly as well, puffing on his pipe until sleep overtook him. Gimli finished his explorations and settled down to sleep as well, more comfortable under tons of stone than he could ever be under an open sky.
I shifted restlessly as I tried to force my mind to stillness, to reverie. To no avail. The darkness taunted me, pushing me to the edge of panic at the thought of never again seeing the sky or feeling the wind on my face. How long I sat there, trapped in a nightmare of my own creation, I do not know. I must have made a sound of distress, because suddenly Aragorn was at my side, his hand on my shoulder.
“What is it, mellon nín?” he asked. “Did you see something?”
“Nay,” I replied, switching to Elvish. Boromir, at least, was still awake, and I had no desire to share my weakness with him. I did not really want to share it with Aragorn, either, but that no longer seemed an option. “The darkness is affecting me,” I told him simply.
“It is no darker than a stormy night,” Aragorn said. “Can you not imagine that you are in a dark room on a stormy night?”
“It is a different darkness,” I countered. “On a stormy night, I would hear the wind howling in the trees or around the eaves of the house. I would feel the wind on my face or see the lightning and know that the world was alive. There is no wind here, no sound, only darkness. I feel cut off from everything and everyone I have ever known.”
“Everything, perhaps,” Aragorn replied, “but not everyone. You are among friends, Legolas. Do not forget that.” As he spoke, he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I grabbed onto that hand, ashamed of my panic and need, but unable to overcome it. He accepted my grip, not pulling away when I tightened my hold. Seeing that I was not regaining my equilibrium as quickly as he hoped, Aragorn squeezed my hand and said, “Wait here for a moment.”
He rose and went to speak to Boromir. He must have told Boromir that I would take his watch, for the man nodded and went to his bedroll. Then, Aragorn returned to my side. “I did not think you wanted the others to see you like this,” he said softly.
“Hannon chen, Aragorn,” I replied, just as softly. “They would not understand.” I could tell that Aragorn did not really understand either, but he said nothing, sitting down beside me and letting me latch on to his hand again. The contact helped. At first. Then the darkness closed in around me again, pressing on my mind, leaving me wallowing in a depth of despair I had not felt since my father had taught me to draw from the trees. Out of habit, my mind reached out, searching for a source of strength to dispel the darkness in my mind, but there was nothing. I could not even touch my father’s mind, something I had been able to do since he created the link between us that had sustained me for months. I must have begun to shiver because Aragorn’s arms came around me, pulling me against him, something he had not done in almost sixty-seven years.
“Legolas, what is going on?” he demanded. “There is more to this than you are telling me. There has to be.”
I could not answer him. Not did not want to answer him. Not chose not to answer him. I could not. My mind could not find the words, nor my tongue form them. I was caught so completely in the terror of mying ing nightmare that even the touch of his body against mine, even more powerful than just the touch of his hand, could barely reach me. That contact was a double-edged sword. I had longed for the feel of his body, yet the touch was a reminder of all that I had foolishly thrown away through my own stubbornness.
The tremors increased as I struggled with myself within my mind. One detached part of my mind knew what this was: an attempt on the part of the Ring to rid itself of an obstacle to its goal. And so I struggled to throw off my despair, to rise above the two temptations of the Ring: to end my suffering or to take what I really wanted. I would not succeed in the first. Aragorn was right next to me. If I reached for my blades, he would stop me before I could hurt myself. He was right next to me. All I had to do was turn my head and our lips would meet. Arwen had given permission, the Ring whispered in my heart. I would not be betraying her if I were to kiss him again, lie with him as I had dreamed of doing so many times. That temptation was so much harder to resist. Aragorn had desired me once, even if he had never loved me. Surely his desire had not died completely. I needed only to kiss him, caress him, and it would reawaken. Arwen said he had doubted even her. Perhaps he would return to me, believing her gone.
“Legolas?” Aragorn’s voice broke through the turmoil of my mind.
“The Ring,” I answered. “It whispers to me. The darkness is bad enough. The Ring makes it torture.”
“Hold on to me,” Aragorn replied. “Focus on me.”
“I am trying,” I whispered, not telling him that the Ring was using him as a part of its temptation.
“You must fight this,” Aragorn urged.
“I will fight as long as I can,” I assured him, “but my strength is not here. I cannot feel the trees here, to reach for the energy that strengthens me.”
“Draw from me,” Aragorn offered.
“And when you weaken?” I asked.
“The Ring is crafty. Here in the darkness, you are the weakest of us all. It will focus on you while it can. Once we are out of Moria, it will choose another. If it chooses me, you will have to help me, there where you are strong.”
His offer was tempting. There was that feeling again. Temptation. While I struggled with my decision, he took charge. His hands came to rest on either side of my face, and his mouth came down on mine, a firm but gentle kiss. “Draw from me,” he repeated.
Love burst through me, shutting out the darkness of the mines and the temptation of the Ring. Nothing existed except Aragorn. “What about Arwen?” I asked.
“I love Arwen, and I always will, but she asked me to watch out for you just as she asked you to watch out for me. If you fall victim to the darkness or to the Ring, I will have failed her. I have already failed her once. I will not do it again, even if shenot not there to know,” Aragorn vowed.
I was puzzled at his words for a moment. Then I remembered what Arwen had said about Aragorn wanting her to leave for Valinor. That must be the failure he was referring to. It certainly explained why he thought she would not know if he kept his promise. I also remembered her telling me that she would not leave Aragorn, regardless of his doubts. That meant that Aragorn would have to give her an accounting of his actions, if we survived this quest.
The kiss had steadied me enough that I could smile at him for a moment. “We will not fail her, mellon nín,” I promised. I did not move from his embrace until it was time to wake Gimli and Gandalf for their watch. I arranged my bedroll near Aragorn’s, but did not move closer than that. With the hold of the darkness and the Ring broken, at least for the moment, I could focus on the love I felt for him and for Arwen, using those feelings to stave off a return of the fear and panic I had felt earlier. Aragorn might not love me the way I loved him, but he did care for me enough to help me in my distress. I prayed to the Valar that I would always be able to do the same for him.