Whispers of the Forest (Legolas x Male OC)

Marching To Mordor

Everything around Sîrion seemed to stop. Heart sinking, he was unable to move or respond. That was an unexpected sore spot. He knew Legolas was not one to reveal those so outwardly, so just how long had this been festering in the Prince's mind? It took him a moment to gather his bearings and follow Legolas.

"What harm, Legolas?" The listener tried to keep his voice gentle, but the concern seeped through all too easily. He closed the window behind him.

The Prince had begun to busy himself with his quiver, checking over the arrows within it. He reached for one, inspecting it for longer than would be needed on a typical inspection. He turned it over and over in his hands, gently brushing the fletching with his fingers and pretending there was a tiny sliver he couldn't quite fix on the shaft.

"It is nothing," The Prince put the arrow away, arms resting on his knees and eyes focused on the floor, "I-," He glanced up at the listener as he exhaled sharply. There was a strange flash of guilt in his eyes as he looked away once again, "I should not have spoken; it is unimportant. Is there anything I can do to help you? I cannot imagine how jarring the diligence must be," He looked back up, concern in his eyes hiding the bit of guilt left.

Sîrion furrowed his brows and crouched in front of Legolas. He was fine... well, as fine as he could be. The silence was a harrowing reminder of what Sauron took, and it would take years to get used to the whistle of the wind and movement of trees without the accompaniment of the voices, but Legolas had already been helpful with that. The heaviness in his chest wasn't nearly as burdensome as the first day, and that was all thanks to the Prince helping him carry it.

"Legolas, I am fine," He sighed, "adjusting but fine. You have helped me more than you know," He took one of the Prince's hands, "What I heard was not nothing, I... I understand if you do not wish to speak about it now, but please, do not let such feelings fester for long. I am here whenever you need me as well as for the times you feel you do not."

"Valar, Alda, you are much too selfless," Legolas glanced up at the ceiling with a sad, soft smile. Sîrion would have liked to protest such a claim, but he kept silent, liking it more if the Prince would continue to speak, "I...I feel as though all I have done is lead you to harm. Any battle in which you are near me, you are harmed at my expense... by my foolishness and," He inhaled sharply, his hand holding onto Sîrion's tightly.

Sîrion only caught a glimpse at the Prince's eyes, but it was enough to show him just how upset Legolas was feeling.

"I am so very sorry, Sîrion," Legolas finally spoke, voice falling into a whisper as he stared at the floor.

Once again, the listener held his tongue.

"I...Sîrion, I am terrified," his voice cracked as he blinked rapidly, "Valar, I did not think I would bring this up today," he chuckled dryly despite the small tears beginning to pool in his eyes, "This was never a worry before. I knew what it meant when I joined the Fellowship and was unafraid of death or injury. Not above it or seeking it out, but aware of such consequences. But then you came along and... and made me feel a way I never had, and suddenly death meant something," he sniffed, and Sîrion simply held onto his hand tightly as he moved to sit on the floor and lean on Legolas' legs, "What if I am the only one to survive? I do not think I could bare losing you. We are vastly outnumbered. Mithrandir might not even survive, and he has cheated death before. Who is to say any of us will survive? The possibility I will survive, and you will die... it is too much. Sîrion, I cannot lose you. I do not want to live such a life... nor do I want you to."

Sîrion allowed the silence to settle, choosing his next words carefully. He wanted to bring comfort to Legolas, but giving promises of things ending completely fine would only cause more strife. Yet he knew his next words would inspire a similar thing.