Nepenthe [Legolas]

23

Helm's Deep after the battle was desolate. The war grounds beyond were scattered with bodies, rocks, and paths painted red and black with blood.

Viridis and Legolas passed over the corpses, eyes glancing over their bodies, searching for those who remained alive, for those with salvageable weapons.

Haldir stood with his men ahead, kneeling as they paid respects to their fallen. Viridis caught the Elf's eye and held it. He was glad to see him alive despite injury and, in return, he was offered a smile and a nod from the Elf before he was summoned once more by his people.

All around, there were distant joyous cries of those reuniting with their partners, of children with their parents, of families finding one another again.

The two Elves walked in silence for a moment as they gazed around at the scenes.

Viridis closed his eyes and let the sun rake through his hair; kiss his cheek. He felt it wash over him, heal him of any pain and injury.

Legolas himself remained unharmed thankfully and Viridis smiled inwardly on himself when he noticed this, when he was once more free to gaze upon his lover's face, to see the way the light cast a shadow over the bridge of his nose, his eyes, the curve of his lips.

He would memorize every detail one day. Every strand of hair, every color that sparkled within his eyes when the light hit them just so.

They came to a stop when they saw Gimli a ways ahead, sitting idly on the corpse of an Uruk-hai, lazily smoking his pipe as he drummed his fingers atop his thigh impatiently. In the Orc's neck he had embedded his axe, cut it deep within the flesh. And it sat there, unmoved and untouched. A rather vicious end for an Orc by a Dwarf, but also a commendable.

Legolas gazed upon the Dwarf fondly, turning to Viridis.

"You two have grown close," Viridis said softly. He needed not to raise his voice anymore. He was not speaking to an army. He was not speaking to thousands of people. He was only speaking to one. One person that was his world.

"I admit it is not a bond I could readily foresee," Legolas said with a smile as he raised both hands to Viridis' cheeks and brushed his hair away from his face in an almost seldom manner.

"Those are the best kinds," Viridis said, voice but a whisper now as Legolas searched his eyes, dazzling blue against his own.

Legolas offered only a soft breath outward, and then he was kissing him, brilliantly, softly, clumsily, it did not matter. Viridis' hands lifted, finding their home on Legolas' waist, on his cheek, a perfect piece of the puzzle, an intricate design crafted to a perfection that only existed between the rarest of souls meant to find and exist with each other against all odds.

When they parted, Viridis pressed his forehead against Legolas', unable to subdue the soft grin that he felt was permanently etched on his features.

"How is your shoulder?" The blond asked with a frown as he idly traced the juncture between his collarbone and arm, careful to avoid the area in which he'd been cut.

"Fine. It should finish healing in a day or so," Viridis said, that same easy smile still on his lips. Battling with Elves meant more healers were readily available after the war and one had set to work on Viridis almost immediately after, tending to his wounds and casting ancient spells across the area. Already, he was devoid of pain, and felt the skin knit itself closed once more. Not even a scar remained in its place.