Nepenthe [Legolas]

5

"I have no memory of this place."

They had been traveling for hours under the unwavering guidance of Gandalf. To hear the words that he was rendered without any idea of where they were was surprising. Viridis himself almost didn't quite believe it until he saw the way the lines shifted on the Wizard's face, contorting to something that could only be likened to anguish and sorrow.

Viridis could almost imagine how it must have felt, to go on in life with the solace of knowing every route, only to be suddenly stripped of its comfort.

"Do not stress, Gandalf," Viridis said, conjuring patience and projecting the confidence that they would not be harmed within these mines. "Sit. Rest. Let the path come to you or seek one at your best discretion. Your judgment is trusted among us."

Gandalf hummed. "Yes yes. That is what I will do. Do not worry young ones, we will soon begin to move again." He assured the Hobbits that all seemed to be on high alert now, gazes following every hint of a sound that echoed from the depths of the mines that they could not see.

The area where they had now come to a stop was dark and barren, edges dropping off into long rocky depths all around them. Much climbing had been pursued to reach this point. Step and sallow as it was. Viridis had managed fine though he almost wished he struggled more because then the battle to remain sure-footed would have distracted his mind from wandering.

"Your clothes are tarnished," Legolas commented, crossing his arms and leaning against a particularly tall rock.

Viridis glanced over his shoulder from where he had been standing at the edge of a large drop-off, looking far into the expanse beyond, noting any peculiarity, any discontinuity from the natural dread of the environment. They were alone here, far enough away from the rest of the group to remain undisturbed.

He knew that Legolas wished to scold him; to tell him what he had done back at the lake with the monster was foolish. But instead, he commented on the state of his clothes in knowing that whatever he were to say, however he were to try to restrict the mindless actions taken by Viridis, that they would be pursued regardless. Because the Elf with the amber hair never acted in his own interest, only those of others.

"As is expected on a journey like this," Viridis replied.

"You worried me then, when you were rescuing Frodo." Legolas went on.

Viridis turned with a soft smile, treading forward to close the gap between them.

"I apologize, meleth nín."

Legolas raised a hand, nimble fingers brushing against Viridis' cheek. He frowned.

"Dirt attaches itself to your visage."

Viridis leaned into the touch. "Such things do not bother me."

Legolas' next words were lower, not yet a whisper, but not yet words reserved for the hearing of others— only for Viridis— only for them alone. "You are so beautiful."

Viridis felt his heat melt, as it tended to do whenever he was with Legolas. Whenever they stole a sidelong glance, whenever they met once again after separating. "You court me in a place such as this?" Viridis muttered with a fond smile.

And if he could, he would have taken the smile that Legolas' offered then and preserved it within the finest material on Middle Earth. "However else will we remain sane?" The Elf spoke.

These were the moments that Viridis longed for, lived for. The small shared memories that they could indulge in together. He appreciated them like no other; knew their worth because of all the time they had spent apart.