Nepenthe [Legolas]

8

Viridis longed to remain in the warm embrace of Legolas for eternity.

He appreciated the simplicity of the gesture. The hug from behind, allowing Viridis to face the open air, letting his eyes weep, mouth torn down without the pressure of keeping up the strong facade when people could see him.

He let his head fall onto Legolas' shoulder, felt the prince press a tender kiss to the top of his head despite the dust, despite the debris and tangled braids that sat atop the crown of his head.

Sorrow was a reluctant friend of his. An unwanted companion, a forced acquaintance. Twice already it had visited in too close a time that he was not ready to deal with the sudden pressure of it all.

He felt the sorrow spill from his eye, a tear tipping over the edge, draining down his face, leaving a clean path behind in the way of the dirt.

He did not move to wipe it.

The closest person to a father figure that he had was gone. Stripped from his clutches in but the cruelest matter possible. For years, Viridis had followed Gandalf willingly, ventured through the darkest forests with him, developed a bond with him incomparable to any definition of the term. Through wars he had been by Gandalf's side; heeded his guidance, let his words of advice wash over him and develop his character into who he was today.

And now he was gone.

Not even the cool breeze of the wind brushing across his face was enough to distract him from that thought.

They had been forced to leave the mines, to forsake Gandalf entirely and travel the last set of stairs toward the exits, into fresh air, alone now without their Wizard.

Viridis felt his knees go weak, the only thing keeping him standing now was Legolas who clutched him fiercely, who seemed to know exactly what he needed, who was perhaps his last saving grace.

He hated how the grief tormented him. They needed to move on. He knew this more than anyone. They needed to go forward, Viridis needed to lead them, to put on the brave face and continue on.

Instead, it was Aragorn who took on this role. And for this, Viridis was eternally grateful.

"Legolas," Aragorn said quickly, quickly enough that his voice remained even and true. "Get them up."

"Give them a moment for pity's sake!" Boromir raged, voice exasperated and so drained of dignity that it sounded almost broken.

"By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with orcs." Aragorn pressed, gesturing to the vast valleys and hills around them now. "We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Come on Boromir, Legolas. Gimli, get them up."

Legolas did not remove his hold. He would not have, Viridis suspected, if even the highest power in middle earth condemned him to.

Instead, it was Viridis who steadily raised a hand, placing them on Legolas' and lowered them.

"I'm alright." He said, voice catching despite his willing not to.

Legolas did not look convinced and looked Viridis in the eyes, from one to the other as if searching for a lie.

"Meleth nîn." Viridis went on softly. "Release your hold."

Legolas, reluctantly did so with a nod, hand lifting instead to tenderly wipe away the tear that had tracked down Viridis cheek. He brushed over his scar, smoothing its blemish, and looked at him softly, as if he may break.

Viridis hated it.

"Death follows us like a plague," Viridis said, raising his voice. It was stronger now and carried to the rest of the fellowship. "We owe it to Gandalf to carry on for if we do not, we are only cowards in his legacy."

He squared his shoulders and moved to help Sam up with a gentle pull. He fixed a hand on the Hobbit's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"On to the woods of Lothlorien."

┈•✦┈•✦

The first few hours of travel once more became quiet. No one spoke much, uttering only one or two words at a time.

Aragorn took the lead, running ahead to make sure their path was safe. Viridis did the same, looking ahead only with his eyes to see the path before them. He could see the moment when they would enter into the forest, the moment where open terrain gave way to wood, dense and green.

They entered these woods a day later. Conversation was nearing its usual level though it was lacklustre in vivacity. Words were spoken more clearly as pressing issues such as ultimate plans and paths needed to be discussed. Without the all-knowing Wizard to guide them, they would need to converse to be able to make the most efficient decisions that would result in the least chances of revisiting death once more.

"Stay close young ones," Gimli whispered thickly as he walked by the Hobbits. "They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods. An Elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell and are never seen again." He went on ominously.

Viridis hadn't the heart to reprimand the Dwarf, too busy looking around at the tree canopies.

They were being watched, there was no doubt about it. He could sense six perhaps more of them in the trees.

Slowly, his hands itched toward his bow.

"Well," Gimli went on.  "Here's one dwarf she won't be able to ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox."

He was interrupted as he spoke of these triumphs but by the presence of an arrow, tip pointed directly at his throat. It's master? The Wood-Elves.

More of them came then, all at once and without a sound, drawing their bows and trapping the company every which way.

They were all lean, blond with hair that passed their shoulders and reached mid-back. Their features were sharp and rigid, nothing like the Elves of Mirkwood.

Viridis' hands stayed calmly at his side. He did not reach for his bow though he knew he would be able to in half the time.

They were fairly outnumbered and not threatened. Drawing weapon now would only increase the tensions.

So, instead, he raised his hands and parted his fingers to show innocence.

"The Dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark." One of them sneered.

Viridis recognized the Elf as Haldir of Lorien.

"We come here for help." Aragorn said, lowering his weapon and speaking in Sindarin. "We need your protection."

"Aragorn!" Gimli called out. "These woods are perilous. We should go back!"

Haldir's stoic expression betrayed a hint of amusement.

"You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back." His eyes strayed past Aragorn, to Legolas then Viridis where they lingered, on his ears, on his bow and blades before treading to Frodo as if he knew of the great object he had around his neck. Viridis didn't doubt it. "Come. She's waiting."

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