Repudiate || legolas

𝟏𝟓

...
Awarthon had no clue how long he was out. For he had woken up at home. The smell of the qaint cottage and the swaying of his hammock bed in a room made for him decades ago. Awarthon sat up. A hissing pain roared in his chest as a small animal seemed to notice and lay itself upon him, begging him to stay laying. "I'm getting up, little fox," Awarthon spoke, enchanting his words for the animal to understand. He set the fox to the side and rolled off the hammock bed, watching it swing from the ceiling. The world seemed less saturated than he remembered.

The room was quaint. Clearly hand-made. His bed was a simple plank big enough for one, maybe two. And hung from the ceiling with thick ropes. The mattress was cotton and a spare blanket that had been stapled into the plank, and bedding was old cloth that Awarthon made with a weave. The pillows were stuffed quilts. A small carpet of animal fur kept the floors warm, and a small bedside table of an old log held his random jewelry and books. On the opposite side of his loft next to the room divider behind where he dressed was his closest and a small pile of dirty clothes. Next to that was a book shelf and desk with a small puff stool.

A few rats brought him a walking stick. Which he gladly took for his ankle didn't seem like it used to be. He sat back down on the bed for a light-headed feeling consumed him. What was most curious was on the floor in front of him. Was a bed roll that had been rolled up and a pillow tucked away next to it. Along with a bag and various other things. Like a bow, wrist gaurds, boots, and a small pile of clothes. Under his bed were medical supplies. Out his window was the signs of the morning.

How long has it been. Thinking about it, worried Awarthon. Though small memories of waking up for moments to eat and drink. Lembas bread, specifically for a small bite, could satisfy his hunger and small memories of red and clear liquids. Yet it seemed to be a blur. Awarthon noticed his curtains closed him off from the rest of the house moved. On edge, he reached for the dagger by his bedside. Yet a blond haired elf calmed his beating heart. "You're up," the blond said calmly. Yet happy, unsure if he was just going to fall asleep once more.

"I feel like I died," he croaked out before having a coughing fit. Legolas quickly kneeled in front of him and offered him a glass of water.

"You nearly did," Legolas spoke softly as he watched Awarthon drink. Looking at him with eyes so delicate that felt as if even a wrong look could shatter him.

Awarthon nodded slowly, "what happened," he spoke softly as legolas gently pushed him back into the hammock bed, sitting down fully. He rocked Awarthon. "How are the Dwarves, oh dear the hobbit,"

Legolas spoke softly, "Fili... he didn't make... Throin is in critical conditions just as you were... and Kili lived. Tauriel, after she healed, you stayed with him. She is choosing a mortal life," he spoke softly.

"The hobbit?" Awarthon inquired, worried.

Legolas nodded, "ah, back at the shire,"

"You?"

A pause filled the air, "I have a request to find a man, but that can wait," legolas spoke, "I want to get rid of -"

"No," Awarthon cut him off, his voice soft, giving a firm gaze. he spoke once more. "It is me. I am it. Not elf nor man nor anything else. I'm strange and unusual. It's fitting. One of a kind," he spoke, looking at Legolas.

A battle went in Legolas's mind. Yet, Awarthon didn't want to be cured. Could he truly make him. "As you wish," he spoke before kissing his knuckles softly. Awarthon noticed the tray of food, a small bit of Lembas bread, and what he assumed was Radagast's soup for breakfast. "You have been out for a month. It's not supprizing for the state you were in. You are quite lucky for you heal quickly," Legolas spoke as he ate some of the soup that he had grown to find homey and comfort in during the cold harsh weather.