towerofanimus | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Characters: Legolas (

bow_of_the_galadhrim) and OPEN
Setting: Forest floor, slightly backdated to after the droning plot
Format: prose to start, will match you
Summary: Legolas is pissed and lacking confidence in himself now.
Warnings: Nothing but I'll update if anything comes up.

The elf drew back an arrow, pulling the string taut and releasing in quick succession. Each arrow struck the farthest tree from him with inhuman accuracy, each one close enough to another that it was hard to differentiate them from the distance. And he didn't stop, not until his quiver was empty. And then he dropped his bow where he stood and when to recover the arrows, returned and did the same all over again.

If anyone didn't know better, it would seem almost like he was in a trance. He didn't make a single sound as he worked. He didn't need the practice with his bow but he didn't want to not practice. And each arrow he shot, he was visualizing the various administrators. He'd never killed a sentient being before and never considered it but now he was completely without remorse for his own thoughts. Orcs he didn't consider sentient because they lived solely to obey Sauron or Morgoth, they were stupid and confused without them.

He was not their toy. He would not let them make him feel so weak or worthless again. He was the prince of the Woodland Realm, friend to Gimli, one of the Nine Walkers who had chosen to free the world of Sauron.Just thinking of having been Jason's plaything, of being subservient to any of them, a pang of white hot rage flowed through him and he grabbed three arrows, drawing them back together and firing. Watching as they struck the tree together, each one above the other.

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Another arrow is fired, landing again very close to the previous one he fired. He hadn't expected others to come to the forest, not far enough in to hear him practicing. He'd thought that a few hours here would calm him enough to travel the rest of the tower, to face his friends and other people he'd hurt while he was brainwashed.

"I was... very busy." He pulled another arrow from his quiver and fired at the tree. Busy losing use of his arm, dying, spending days hidden away only to be kidnapped by retrieval units this month and turned into one himself. One that looked like an orc. Another arrow slammed into the tree.

"Thank you, they are safe. Safe but tiring from being here. I want to get them home safely, the hobbits especially." Haldir too but keeping Haldir safe was a personal priority. Getting Frodo back was for his own safety as the ring continued to weigh upon him. "And you and your own?"

"We survive. Since I was one of the few amongst my friends who were not changed, it has be difficult trying to comfort them when I do not know their pain. I know how it felt when I could do nothing to stop them from hurting me or others, but it is not the same as being the one who has lost control," Diarmuid shakes his head, continuing to watch as the prince fires his bow. "A strong shoulder and open ear is really all I can give and yet it doesn't seem to be enough. I suppose that is one of the pains of a warrior. I am of more use solving problems through strength of skill than words even if my words are more heartfelt than some.

"You mention hobbits. This is a word with which I'm not familiar. Is it another race from your world? Have you had new friends arrive then since we last spoke?" It might seem like an abrupt chance of topic, but Diarmuid doesn't expect Legolas to say much about what happened to himself during the experiment. They don't know each other that well and the last thing the servant wishes to do is make the prince feel he is pushing him for information he has no right to know.

"Comfort won't come easy for many of us. We hurt people. People that we care about. All because we thought... that we were better serving our 'masters' by doing so. We had no will of our own." He fires another arrow. Trying to keep his mind on the here and now, keeping his mind from wandering back to what he'd done.

"You are trying to help though. That's what matters. Your friends know that they have someone to depend on when they feel they need that shoulder." Legolas has some that he could go to as well. Not happily and not without feeling somewhat weak for what had happened but he could. When he was ready.

"Yes. Frodo was already here. They are small, they look like children for how tall they are. You'd recognize them by their bare and incredibly hairy feet." Just saying it makes him laugh a little. "Samwise joined us here in the tower, recently. As well as a dwarf, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin, who doesn't know who he is, doesn't recognize him from the party of elven guards that captured him and his company. Doesn't recognize Thranduil's heir.

"I never really believed in mental or emotional wounds that could not be healed until I came here. Perhaps I was just naive, but I wanted to believe with enough effort and time all such pains could be erased," his voice suddenly becomes very soft and sad. "Now...after seeing the looks in the eyes of my family as they were forced to cut me down and could do nothing to stop themselves..."

Diarmuid pauses, drawing in a deep breath, "I usually do not wish harm on others, but I sincerely hope that all of you they have done this to get your chances to make them feel the pain that is within you now and may always be there."

Despite the grim mood, Diarmuid cannot help but smile at Legolas' description of the hobbits, "They sound oddly cute, though I do not think I have met either of them yet. I would have remembered running into someone matching that description. I will have to keep my eyes open. For the way talking about them seems to brighten your mood, they must be a joy to be around.

"I do not believe I am familiar with what a dwarf is either. I am sorry to be asking you so many questions, but are they like the hobbits then or more like your own people?"

"I always thought that all things could be healed as well but now, I am not so sure as I once was. I have never witnessed a hurt like what has been so recently suffered." At least in Middle Earth, the elves could retreat to Valinor for peace. For proper healing and happiness to claim their hearts once again.

"I'm sorry that your loved ones hurt you. I promise that, somehow, we will find a way to return the 'favor' to the administrators. Not only for ourselves but for everyone that suffered at our hands."

'Oddly cute' was an apt description for them. It was a shame though that he'd met neither yet, for all the joy that hobbits can bring with them into a room. They always knew how to have a good time, whether it be with food or drink. Surprisingly, he hadn't noticed just how much lighter even thinking of the hobbits made him feel. Even with how Frodo seemed weighed down from his burden.

"Not at all like my people. They are taller than hobbits and have beards. Their women have beards as well. They are great miners and craftsman."

"I think the worst part is we are given no time and no safe place to heal from these wounds. Riki will be in charge this month and he is not so bad, but in this place not so bad is a cold comfort at best," he closes his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. "And Ruana will follow after him. Who knows what horror she will bring with her this time. It can be so easy to want to give up."

Diarmuid pauses in thought for a moment before shaking his head and opening his eyes, "And yet as much as they tear us down, oddly enough it seems the tower also helps build us back up. My friend and master arrived when I felt all was lost and your hobbit friend has just arrived. Perhaps he will help return some of that light that has so recently been taken from you.

"Your dwarven friends do not sound quite so cute, though. Granted, considering the materials master craftsmen must often work with, it is understandable. Their women...truly have beards as well? It must be very difficult to tell the sexes apart then..."

"Riki is the most tolerable of them left. A shame that it means little to say such a thing." Would that Ruana had eaten Jason instead, nobody would be too concerned then but for her apparent taste for flesh. Was there to be no peace for them anymore? Or would it be a hard won peace for them? One that they still had to claim for themselves.

Legolas hadn't actually thought of it that way, hadn't thought much beyond worrying for what his friends might endure as they arrived and vanished. Perhaps their coming here was intentional on the administrators parts, for everyone. Who knew how many people would have been crushed, emotionally and mentally, without friends here.

"It is what I've heard, I've never met a dwarf woman before. Although, I suppose I wouldn't recognize them easily as I've been told they are alike in voice to dwarf men as well."

"So you are saying that they really are so similar? What an odd trait to have," Diarmuid shakes his head, glad to allow the conversation to pass to more pleasant things than the trials of the last few weeks. "Thank you for indulging my curiosity. If you wish to blame anyone, blame my father. He told me so many stories as a child that now it seems I have an insatiable appetite for this kind of thing, and your world seems as if it would have so many stories to tell.

"And if nothing else, these stories are often comforting. As we discussed before, I have always found comfort in thoughts of my home. I got the impression that despite your hardships, you feel the same way. Hopefully, I am not wrong. If nothing else, there is strength to be found in those memories and we can use all the strength we can get to continue this fight. It's something we cannot allow to fail even in the face of the greatest pain or else that pain will never end," Diarmuid laughs, seeming a little embarrassed suddenly. "Though, I suppose I don't need to tell you that since you have been here and fighting so much longer than I have."

"I don't see any reason to place blame at all. How else would we learn if we weren't curious? And I'm glad to tell what stories I know but far more tales can be had from others from Middle Earth."

Gandalf would know more tales than he, for one. And Haldir. Thorin would perhaps know of some that he didn't, Gimli had told him little in the way of dwarvish tales. More likely than not because dwarves tended to be a very private race.

"You aren't wrong. Thinking of home and the people there brings me great comfort." He smiled, giving a nod. "It brings me strength to know that others have not given up. And even the most experienced of warriors need reminding at times."

"Perhaps when we don't have so many heavy thoughts our minds, you would not mind meeting up with me to share some of those tales? And if you are curious, I would be happy to share tales of my own world with you in exchange." For a moment, a look of childish excitement crosses Diarmuid's face, though it fades when he begins speaking again, "I spoke briefly with your friend Haldir while you were missing, but there were obviously more important things to talk about at that time than homes and tales of the past. I went looking for Idrial not long after we talked the first time and was saddened to find she had left in the time in between our conversation and when I went looking for her."

Here Diarmuid pauses to give Legolas a slight bow of his head, "You have my sympathies for your loss. I know you mentioned back then that so many had come and gone already. To lose another must have been hard."

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