| Subject: Rejection |
Author:
Legolas
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Date Posted: 17:29:07 04/16/02 Tue
As Aragorn spoke Legolas felt a sharp twist of hurt at the base of his spine. Maybe Aragorn was right. Maybe they had both changed too much. Narrowly escaping death certainly didn't seem to have done much for the king's temper.
Numbly, he listened, unable to respond. He had rushed back to be with Aragorn when he was needed, only to be brushed aside and chased away. Truly, he wanted the rift between them to be mended, but how could it be when Aragorn was so irritable, ready to take insult at the slightest comment.
So that was it? He was dismissed? He opened his mouth to speak, to apologise even, but the king had turned his back. Defeated, he left, only to be confronted by the faery. About to brush past her, he stopped. She was as new here as Lómódë. He couldn't just leave her here alone.
He cast about for a servant. There was no-one in sight. Of course- it was very late. They were probably all asleep. Despite his own melancholy mood, Legolas shied away from spreading the pain by waking some innocent servant up at this hour. He sighed.
"The servants are asleep, so there's nobody to prepare a room for you. You can stay with me tonight. I won't be sleeping, so you can have my bed. Come with me."
The lef wasn't in the mood for conversation. Silently, he lead her through the maze of corridors to his own set of apartments. Gesturing to the bedroom, he sat down at his desk. His own mood tonight was not suited to sleep. Brooding over times gone by, almost absently he began to sketch. The faces of his dearest companions slowly emerged on the paper, lovingly recreated by his deft hand, every detail noticed. But the most carefully done drawing was not that of man, dwarf or hobbit. It was of a she-elf.
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