BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ( LEGOLAS )

𝟬𝟮𝟲 ━━ let go

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★。＼｜／。★
˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ let go ❫ ❞
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACT TWO ── audentes fortuna iuvat 🏹 ⁺⑅

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CHILDREN OF ARDA DUOLOGY ⋆ ☄.
♯ ❝ I DIED, YET I LIVE ❞
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
˚ ₊ ♡ the third age ─── year 3019
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━━ ˚ ₊ ♡ 🏹
❝ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚,
𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 ❞

*✧ ─── THE FOG OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS STILL CLING TO HER AS HER MIND AWAKENS, A LINGERING SEED OF HOMESICKNESS blossoms in her chest, but Gyda cannot find the reason it grows now. The melancholy lament of Gandalf still a vivid sound, even if now silence falls over Lothlorién. His memory is engraved in the way the moon shines and the winds howls softly.

Her fingers twitch, a restlessness settles in her body as her gaze fixates on the white halls of the healing room, the way vines wrap themselves around pillars carved from Mallorn trees, delicate leaves glowing under the light of the moon.

The sight draws her, whispers almost ─ words she cannot hear, maybe ones she cannot understand. It lurs her, like pulling strings on a puppet, Gyda sits. The soft sheets fall down her body, warm air brushing her aching skin. The pain only remains a dull sting thanks to the salve applied by one of the elves in between the hours of the evening.

Her heart beats a steady beat, thrumming beneath her skin ─ akin to lightning waiting to strike. The urge grows, and Gyda moves meticulously. Bare feet touch the silver stones, the cold sends a shiver down her spine.

Her eyes flicker momentarily to Legolas tucked in the corner on a wooden stool, head hanging low, hair cascading down to hide away his peaceful face. The tension in his shoulders has lessened and his chest rises steadily as he wanders the planes of sleep.

As quietly as she could, Gyda walks, pain but a distant memory. Footsteps soft, just a mere caress on the silver steps as she ascends the stairs that curve around the Mallorn Tree. Warm light captured, as if stars had descended to Middle-Earth and burrowed themselves in the crevices.

Warmth settles in her bones, at the sight before her. A small glade is spread out before her, trickling water a soothing sound to her ears and a silver glow illuminates her surroundings. Gyda moves, ready to walk down the three stone steps but she falters at the edge.

Uncertainty fills her, a shadow of doubt evades her, but she can't place the feeling as her eyes fall on the white basin in the center.

It calls to her, like a mother drawing in a child, like the sun pulling in the moon. The feeling scares her slightly, but it also grants her a feeling of safety, ─ of understanding.