Author Notes: I love writing like this, hope it makes some sense to others ^^;;
The Equilibrium of Dreams
At night, in the hazy moments before slumber, the mind wanders to strange places. Deep dark pits rise up from your soul and beckon you closer, eager to show you the mess of your brain and heart.
One such night, quiet long ago, I felt sleep tugging at me. We had moved together, the Fellowship, a weakened march along wooded paths.
I found myself plagued by conflicting emotions: lust, greed, worthlessness, small agonies. Night was the worst. Endless darkness, even when the moon and stars shone bright….endless time for me to drown in myself.
I often picture myself that way, desperately swimming for some unknown shore, never reaching dry land. So, trying to shove these disturbing thoughts out of my body, I fought with restlessness for rest upon the cold ground. My last images of evening were of the fire being put out by one of the little ones…at Aragorn’s hushed request, the uneasy feeling that all was not well and would remain that way, and of Legolas.
The elf stood against the tree, his body seemingly relaxed. I knew better. He was listening. To the water, to the leaves, to the night itself. I envied his calm.
A root was a cold and stubborn bedmate, pushing silently into my neck. Sleep, I commanded, no more watching the others….Eyes drifted shut. But, alas, those constant visions inside were never quiet.
I could see it….my white city, Gondor of ages passed, like some shining wonder…. And it welcomed me with open arms. Hero. Or conqueror of distant troubles. How comforting.
Tears fell upon my face, burning my eyes. I couldn’t believe that I was crying, but….I smiled.
I have never been so happy.
Gold adorned my neck and silver upon my horse’s tack. I heard shouts from above, heralding…..cheering…..
Where was my father? It bothered me to not see him or to hear his deep voice. Someone clasped my shoulder heartily.
My bones hurt, as if my body had been moving for years….never stopping, always fighting….
The sword felt heavy in my hand, the hilt like lead.
How happy I was yet so very tired……where is he? Where is my father?
The sun burst through the clouds overhead, shafts of light streaming down upon me, blinding me suddenly.
A voice whispered, my voice.
“Gondor is gone, gone forever…..don’t go back, can’t go back….”
I kept repeating it. My lips moving without control, words spilling forth…. Stop it, I cried. The sword fell and the crowd clamor cooled, the hard ground met my knees. And I begged.
Begged for forgiveness, for redemption, for the past not to haunt me.
I could feel the blows upon my body, raining down on my shoulders and chest, sharp cuts into my sides and piercing my skin. Battle with an unknown enemy, someone who was better than I.
Each hit was fast and meant for agony, but it was never fatal.
As if I was meant to resist it and then give in to it. Should I fight back or let them do this to me?
My weapons were gone. Just me, bare-boned and defenseless.
I laughed. Like some horrid folly had befallen me and I had to find mirth in it, to survive the punishment.
My pain. I cause it.
My fists hit, I bruise.
The blood rushes forth, filling my mouth.
And I smile back at myself, that side of me that is weak, towering over, looming above.
All the anger and frustration, fueling it’s temper and vulnerabilities, flame to fire.
Yet I am left with nothing by ashes.
You are there.
I am standing, then walking to you, weaving my fingers through your hair. I had wanted to touch it and you let me. I let my fingers graze your fine cheek. The breath slips out of your mouth in an audible sigh.
My eyes widened at this, my heart not believing the fact before me.
My touch makes you sigh. I kneel before you, my wonderment apparent on my face. You look curious, a half-smile upon your lips.
Lips I must kiss….must have, must claim.
The kiss is long, not forced yet not subtle. I pull at your bottom lip as I break away, the taste of your skin intoxicating in my mouth.
So many wants flashing across my eyes…
To taste you forever, to travel your body like a stream, to capture your heart, to push inside you and never leave.
And you want this too. Want it as much as I.
“Legolas….” I murmur against the ivory skin of your neck, bringing your body closer to mine, enjoying the heat, wanting more….
Always wanting so much more.
I wanted to sleep. But once infernal dreams plague you, sleep must be abandoned. I sat up, rubbing my neck, body stiff. All were asleep. Except the elf. He was not present it seemed.
We two, the only ones not at peace, but for such different reasons.
The little ones, the hobbits, their sleep must be somewhat troubled….but the need for rest overwhelms anxiety .
Aragorn rests lightly, always ready for the next attack, muscles alert at all times.
Gimli looks just as hardened in sleep as when awake….body compacted into nook, upright sleeping.
I stand up. I walked quietly.
Then there he is, as if by some wizardry , magically appearing from behind some trees.
Our eyes exchange answers and questions, no need to pry.
He is awake to watch. I am awake because….because……
I have a sudden urge to tell him how I feel, about everything, to let go of some of the doubt inside.
And perhaps, if luck were on my side, he would understand. He would comfort. His arms would encircle me, finally allowing me to sleep, to really sleep. Instead, I walk away.
I can feel his eyes on me, ever so faintly. That makes me smile.
That thought I can take with me, no matter what happens.
It can become part of that last dream….and maybe it will eradicate the others someday.
1- Heavy introspection here…hope it was not too much.
2-Inspired (partly) by three songs (Prince Charming, Whip In My Valise and Desperate But Not Serious). All three by Adam Ant.
3-Boromir is the man and I love writing about him.
4-LOTR and it’s characters are not owned by me, no profit is being made. But the fic idea is mine, so no one take it. ^_^;
5-A tad different from my other Boromir ficcy, more deep thoughts….the B/L-ness is part of the Boromir picture, not all.
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