WARNING: This is a hint of SLASH. While there is no explicit homosexual action, this story involves a man (male elf, really) in love with a man. If this bothers you, I am certainly not going to make you read it, and indeed kindly request that you take yourself elsewhere and read some of the lovely het works on ffnet. If you read the fic in spite of my warning, then donít complain to me!
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all of its characters clearly do not belong to me. They belong to the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien. Iím merely playing with their minds... (evil grin).
Feedback: Please, please, please...yes, I am begging! I would like to know what you think of it; love it, hate it, don't get it- whatever! Just keep in mind that flames will be used to heat my very cold dorm room.
Author's Notes: This is the third installment in the Double Edged series. This is the last one for now that is from Legolasí POV. The plan is to do a few from ... someone elseís POV, then a few chapters that actually have character involvement. Probably 10 chapters total. Let me know what you think about it Ė. if you can offer some constructive criticism, I would really appreciate it! Keep reviewing, and I will keep writing!
Chapter 3 - Decisions
My body whispers to me of desire. My soul insinuates fulfillment. My heart hints of love.
I have always tried to be strong. I have tried to refuse my nature, struggled to prove to those around me (oh, father) that I can be strong. That I am strong. I have schooled my body into perfection, worked centuries to master my weapons of choice. My arrows fly faster than lightning and my knifes flash more deadly than fire. I can run for days with barely an uncontrolled breath, or increased heartbeat.
I have trained my mind. For more years than I know I have worked to heighten my senses, to speed the channels of my thoughts. I can hear the tone of wrongness in the cry of a bird and identify from it not only what threatens the tiny life, but from whence the threat comes, how soon it will arrive, and can anticipate what the outcome will be. I have studied, have read, have learned. I am not yet a loremaster, but it is whispered by the Elders that if I continue in this track, I may achieve the rank at an age younger then even Elrond.
I have disciplined my emotions. I take delight in life, but can kill (betray the light of the world) without hesitation or regret. I can love... but in moderation. My father has taught me that to love anything too much is to invite pain, betrayal. To love too strongly is to make oneself even more vulnerable; it will result in even greater weakness. My mother (beautiful, beloved) taught me that love is necessary. If I am unable to love, I myself betray my people, my heritage. It is not strength that leads one to deny love Ė it is fear. Thus I love, reasonably.
I have struggled to overcome my failings. I have refused to be weak. I have prepared for every eventuality. I am ready to meet any enemy. But I was not ready for you. You assailed my body, attacked my mind, and defeated my emotions. I have no defense against your beauty, your strength, nor, least of all am I protected against your soul. I hear each breath that you take. I eagerly await any decision, any command, with complete faith in your ability. I... I... No! I cannot! I care for you. I would fight to the death for you. What is more, I would live for you. But I cannot love you. I cannot passively wait for mortality to overcome my weak body. I cannot stand to see the look of disgust that will cross my fatherís face if I choose you.
Yet the emotion that I imagine, no, that I know, would grace my motherís face also appears to me. It haunts me. Her eyes would settle one mine, pierce through my soul, read my desire, and my choice. And they would lower, drifting from my face in disappointment. For, you see, she gave everything for love. But... surely she could not expect me to do the same? Certainly she would understand that what was an amazing virtue in her would be a weakness in me...
And yet, what is the world without love? All of my training, all of my sacrifice must have been for something. Perhaps I was preparing myself to face the challenge of you. For it would be a challenge. First, I must confront my feelings. I must accept the truth that stares at me out of your eyes. I love you. Deeply. More than I should ever care for anything. Let alone a man. But, nevertheless, it is so.
Second, it will be a struggle to see to it that my intense love for you will not transform itself into a weakness. The darkest night can bring cover to a small group in an evil land. The brightest day can bring recognition and death. Perhaps it is all in the perception. Any event, any attribute can be turned for good or for ill. The double-edged sword may kill your enemies, but it could also slit the throat of a friend.
Am I rationalizing this? Am I merely trying to cast that which must not be into a more favorable, even acceptable light? Perhaps. But... to turn from love would be to close my eyes on the beauty of the world that I love. I may never love again. Certainly I will never experience this level of intensity. It leaves me terribly vulnerable. There are so many ways in which I could be hurt (would you accept me, my heart?). But.
My hand has offended me in the past. It has not pulled an arrow from the quiver with enough speed to save a friend. But I do not seek to remove the possibility of repeating such an offense by cutting off my hand. I train it, work harder, and ensure that it will next be used to save the life of a friend.
I have sought to learn so much. I have endeavored to turn myself into the greatest that I can be. There are so many beauties that I have not seen. So many lessons that I will never learn. Perhaps... Perhaps if I could catch just one dream, catch it and keep it in my heart, feed it, nurture it, learn it... perhaps that would be enough... perhaps that would be everything.
My choice has made itself. If indeed there ever was a choice. I do not believe in predestination. But I do believe that there is an incredible section of my soul. It is a miniscule proportion. Yet, it knows what is right for me, even if my mind would deny the knowledge. That part of my soul fled my body eons ago, and took up residence in yours. It has carefully drawn me to itself. I must be reunited to my soul.
I do not know if you will accept my love, nor can I guess if you are willing to hear the words that I am now ready to say. But say them I will. Whatever comes of this is what must be, and I will face the challenges that your decision creates. I love you, Aragorn. I would live a mortal live for you, if you so desire. Or, I will wander middle earth alone until the time comes when I will fade silently into the mists of remembrance, and then beyond. I love you, Aragorn. The rest is up to you.
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