Whispers of the Forest (Legolas x Male OC)

And It All Went Quiet

Sîrion woke to voices around him. To be specific, two voices. They were whispering, pausing every few sentences. A headache pounded against his skull, making him wish he never woke up. He closed his hand, finding grass underneath it. Slowly, he began to remember how he had run outside because of the wind's awful panic. Legolas had come out with him... but why was he still outside? He opened his eyes, surprised to see the Prince directly above him. Legolas was talking with Aragorn, both too engrossed in their conversation about the bright green pillar of light to notice the listener wake. Sîrion blinked a couple of times, looking up at the darkened night sky, moving minimally. The moon was almost overhead, hidden behind tiny wisps of clouds. He was undoubtedly laid on the ground, but there was not the feeling of grass nor ground beneath his head. Only smooth, soft fabric. He glanced back up to Legolas and quickly realized his head was lying on the elf's lap. He shifted, moving to sit up but was quickly stopped by a hand on his shoulder, his head dropping back onto Legolas' lap as if he was pulled back. He wasn't but felt much too weak to push against it.

"Rest, Sîrion," Aragorn stated in a worried tone.

He sat crosslegged to Sîrion's left about two steps away.

Sîrion groaned in response, the sitting-up attempt sending a crashing wave of pain through his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What happened?" Sîrion mumbled, covering his eyes by draping his arm across his face, eyes hidden by the crook of his elbow.

"We were hoping you would be able to tell us that," Legolas gently replied.

Sîrion drew in a deep breath, trying to think through the aching pain in his head. The breeze brushed over Sîrion, calm and strangely silent. No familiar murmur. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and he brought his hand down, catching Legolas' eye. He twisted quickly, earning protest from Legolas, but he stood, stumbling away before falling to his knees again. His hands stung as rocks dug into them. The throbbing in his head worsened to almost an unbearable level, and he leaned forward on his hands to catch himself. He muttered, reaching out to the wind the best he could as Legolas rushed over, hand resting on Sîrion's back.

"Sîri-," Legolas was interrupted.

"It's silent," Sîrion's voice was on the verge of cracking, "Legolas, I- I cannot hear the wind."

Panic was bubbling up in the listener. It was not like the dark spell conjured by Saruman. It was as if the air was lifeless, only a silent force of nature.

"What?" Aragorn had rushed over as well, disbelief laced in his voice.

Sîrion stared at the ground, his heart racing as he desperately mumbled in old elvish in hopes of receiving muttering back. Any sort of response would put the listener at peace. But nothing responded... his own words were the only thing that could be heard. He immediately sat crosslegged, Legolas having to catch him from falling backwards. Sîrion flipped his palms to the sky, hands resting on the grass despite the feeling of his head being cracked up with every sharp movement. He ignored the Princes' protests as he began to chant the spell he used against Saruman, but there was nothing for the magic to push back against. The breeze simply continued to tickle his face, silent and cool. He began another spell.

"Sîrion, stop this!" Legolas desperately grabbed at Sîrion's arm, kneeling beside him in hopes of calming the listener and getting a better understanding of what was happening.

Sîrion looked over with tears in his eyes, overwhelmed by the silence encompassing his mind. His thoughts seemed to echo, repeating over and over and jumbling with one another. He didn't know which was racing faster, his mind or heart.

"The wind is silent, not even hidden by a spell," Sîrion whispered the last part, his voice losing its strength the more his thoughts spiralled.

A tear slid down his cheek, and he stared at the ground, trying to grasp truly what was happening. Perhaps the wind was just ignoring him, deciding to be silent and would begin its chattering any second now. The wind blew stronger for a moment, almost mocking such an idea. The ache in his head increased as he tried to breathe. It felt as though his lungs forgot how to work, never inhaling deep enough and causing a fast, tortuous loop of short, shallow breaths. The visions from the Palantir flashed through his mind. The dry silence of the wind, the screams of his friends. Legolas being tortured. It was beginning. The vision was coming true.