A Secret Untold: Part III
Lying on my bed I hear a soft tapping at my door. 'Come in' I sigh, not
caring whether it's a maid, Lord Elrond, or an orc. Seeing Legolas we
becoming more painful, every word he speaks of Valrodiel is like a dagger to
my heart. Having Arwen here, when I love her so much, and yet yearn also for
the prince; it is like having my heart torn in two.
The door opens, and the visitor enters soundlessly. Staring up at the
ceiling, it is not until a face peers down at me that I realise who it is.
"What brings you here my friend?" I ask with a sigh. I did not wish to see
Legolas right now... and yet at the same time I couldn't bear not to.
"Apologies, I can see your mind is troubled," Legolas "Do you wish to share
your problems?" he enquired. Sitting up, I declined. "No, Legolas, wait, I
mean, thank you, but it would only make them worse."
He looked a little confused but I did not want him to press further, lest I
reveal my terrible secret. "What did you come here for?" I asked, before he
could ask me further questions. The elf held out the parchment he'd shown me
earlier, but now it had many crossings out and corrections, all in the elf's
beautiful handwriting. "I am not happy with this," he began "I would be
grateful for your opinion on the changes, and if there is anything you think
should be different." He paused and studied the floor. "After all, you are a
lot better at these things than me..."
Not replying, I read over the changes. The beautiful poem, which I believed
could be no better, had become almost perfect. Only one thing would make it
better, this I changed and handed it back to him.
"Perfection" a smile crosses Legolas's face as he read through the poem. He
turned his beautiful blue eyes to me. "Thank you, friend. We work well
together in more ways than mere battle."
I didn't reply, and he took his leave, casting a worried glance over his
shoulder before closing the door. "Sleep well my friend," he called before
the door shut softly behind him.
The night draws on as I sit at the desk in my room, pondering over Legolas,
and staring vacantly at the blank piece of parchment in front of me. Since
sunset, I have been trying to write what I feel, and yet I cannot do so. What
I feel for my elven friend cannot be described; it is impossible to write
anything onto paper, it just keeps going around and around in my head. Arwen
sleeps in her rooms, she left hours ago, bidding me goodnight and kissing me
softly on the forehead. How I love those kisses. They are usually comforting,
and yet no, not tonight. She can see there is something troubling me, I
wonder if she knows what, for she kissed me with a heavy heart as she left
this evening. 'If I could write everything down, then all would be well' I
keep telling myself. Yet I cannot do it. Is it the fear of someone reading
what I write? Or maybe I cannot truthfully admit my feelings to myself, for
alas, I do not know how deep they run, for either Legolas nor Arwen.
I catch a scent of somebody, immediately thinking of Arwen and her fresh,
rose-like scent. But it is then I realise this smell does not belong to her,
it is more rich and earthy. Scarcely believing my own sense of smell, I
whisper the name of to whom the scent belonged.
My heart pounding inside me, I turn in my chair, looking for the radiant
prince. But the room is empty, consumed with lonely darkness.
Like my heart.
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