Of Futures Past (Legolas)

25

Alana couldn't think. She followed the Riders of Rohan blindly as they rode, letting her horse carry her without guidance. It knew better than she did where they were going anyways.

Finally, she had succeeded in returning, most of the time, to her normal perspective, seeing through only one set of eyes, but her body still showed the marks of her pain. Her finger tips were stained with a black and white crystalline pattern, like snowflakes, that appeared like a rash on other, hidden parts of her body, though Alana could swear the markings had grown smaller since she'd been staring at them the past two hours. Her neck bore purple marks in the shape of a hand and swallowing hurt more than she cared to admit.

All she could focus on was the wind on her face, and the soreness of her throat, and the burning burning burning of her skin, everywhere it had touched her. Her nose choked on its rotten stench, filling every nook and cranny of her airway. Her face, her neck, her collarbone, all ached with the knowledge they had been touched, touched by a creature who had wanted to defile her, by someone who was not Legolas, who had stolen what should only be allowed to him. Disgust raged in her core, her tainted fingertips shaking at the reins they barely held.

Elves were not like men, they did not live as slaves to their lust. Sexual intimacy was only to be shared by those mated for life, and emotional intimacy was far more treasured, far more necessary a gift. Nevertheless, to have sexual intimacy stolen as an elf, was a greater violation than could be imagined by humans, unsharing in its sacred value. 

Alana wished she could rub her skin clean, wished she could cut off any part of her that had been touched, but to do that would require she deliver herself to death. She wanted Legolas, to hold her and to remove its vile stain on her skin, but she did not want to be touched. So much as a hand brushing her own would send her into a fit of terror, that much she knew. 

So lost in her thoughts was she that Alana didn't even notice as they slowed to a stop, herself near the outside of a circle of horses, with the same men by her side as the past two hours, ordered by Eomer to watch over her. She didn't hear as the strangers in the centre started speaking, as her beloved spoke and threatened the man who had saved her. Alana only looked at her hands, analyzing how quickly the marks were disappearing and wondering when the burning would disappear as well.

Meanwhile, the remainders of the Fellowship were speaking with Eomer, trying to find her and the two hobbits left in the woods.

"We are not spies. We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They've taken three of our friends captive." Aragorn reasoned, keeping his voice cool.

"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night." Eomer replied with a wary eye. 

"But there were two hobbits and a she elf. Did you see two hobbits with them?" Gimli pressed.

"They would be small. Only children to your eyes." Aragorn elaborated.

"The she elf is not tall, with long blonde hair. She would be impossible to miss." Legolas added, his desperation leaking into his voice.

"I cannot speak for your hobbit friends, we left none alive." At those words, the trio stiffened and Legolas felt his heart tear in half before Eomer continued. "But, the she elf, we found."

At once, Legolas could feel the hope and relief mending every tear caused by his worry as Eomer told his men to let 'the lady' through.

"Be warned, she has spoken little and spooks anytime anyone gets near her. She is quite afraid to be touched, after what happened." Eomer warned, his eyes pitying.

Legolas felt his breath catch.

"What happened to her?" Aragorn demanded.

Eomer sighed, his eyes filled with disgust. "I heard her scream, and found her underneath a vile orc trying to defile her. He did not get far, but..." Eomer trailed off.

Legolas's heart was frozen. His beautiful, wonderful, stubborn, self-sacrificial love. Violated. And he wasn't there to protect her. He was too late. It was his fault.

Alana had remained still at the outskirts of the circle, until one of the riders poked her with a stick. It had been the only method they'd found to be able to get her attention without frightening her.

She looked up, soulless eyes searching their faces for something she wouldn't find, that she hadn't found in staring at her hands or the valleys or anything else.

"Your companions are here." The man said.

Something heavy dropped into her stomach as she urged her horse forwards numbly. It wasn't until she made eye contact with Legolas, horrified, guilty, heartbroken Legolas, staring at her almost as brokenly as she felt, that her eyes started to water.

"Alana." Legolas's voice cracked, and Alana felt her breath catch, doing everything she could to push all the traitorous emotions bubbling to the surface back down.

He held a hand out to help her down from her horse, and for a few moments she stared at it, fighting back tears and a quivering lip, before dismounting by herself, forcing her gaze downwards. As she landed, she stumbled, and without thought, Legolas's hands caught her upper arms, steadying her, and simultaneously destroying her.

The warmth from his hands spread, and all the gates she'd locked opened without hesitation. Her tears fell like waterfalls, ugly sobs ripping through her body. She felt as if she were about to fall to pieces in Legolas's hands as he desperately tried to hold her together. 

"I'm sorry, Legolas. You were right. You were right fifty years ago. I was naive, seeing the visions has nothing on living through it. I'm sorry." Alana wept, her hands clutching the sleeves of Legolas's tunic as he reached a hand up to wipe the tears from her face, though more only replaced them. It felt like her body had fallen to pieces the moment they'd touched, and now the only thing keeping her together was him—at once her greatest protector and most devastating destroyer.

Legolas felt a tear of his own drip down his cheek as he witnessed her destruction. "I'm sorry, meleth nin. I should have protected you."

Looking up, Alana met his eyes and, for a moment, her vision shifted back to the omniscient perspective, viewing the both of them from above, and viewing herself as Legolas was seeing her at that moment. Dirty, broken down, crying, beautiful and awful at once, with an ugly purple bruise on her neck and piercing pure black eyes. Her vision returned to normal as quickly as it changed.

Leaning her head against his chest, Alana breathed in his scent of forest and sweat and rain, chasing away the rot of the orc. Legolas's arms wrapped around her gently, one hand caressing her head, the other resting between her shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry, meleth nin."

"Forgive me, please."