Creature Comforts

Chapter 10

We paddle away from Lothlorien our gifts
from the lady, uniting us as fellowship if only in appearance and nothing else.
In my mind I am troubled by Frodo’s warning from the lady about Boromir. I have
known it from the very beginning that Boromir desired the ring, I saw it in his
eyes at the council. I know too that Boromir desires the strength to save
Gondor’s people from the fate that befell them so many years before, however
these innocent conflicts will never be safe around the ring’s power influences
and I feel it in my heart that only tragedy will come from it. Sighing heavily
I smile lightly as Frodo waves to the Lorien elves that line the shore to see off off and I find his innocent gesture of farewell warming in the cold thoughts
of the task ahead. Our journey has been made harder without Gandalf and as we
glimpse the last sight of Lorien I wish more than anything that he was still
with us. Frodo smiles at me and turns back to sit forward in the canoe. It will
be sometime before we reach our destination and we all settle for a steady
paddle down the river. To my left Legolas resides in a canoe with the dwarf
Gimli. They share lighthearted teasing of each other, which brings a smile to
Legolas face. Since his night with Haldir he has become brighter again and I welcome
the change of mood the stay in Lorien has brought upon him. I know it is only
surface deep as he is a troubled elf inside but it is welcome all the same as
his mood is infections and we all begin re telling our happy stories of our
stay in Lorien, including the hobbits who have some of the most interesting to
tell.

 

Last night I had glimpsed from Frodo’s
balcony Legolas and Haldir embracing each other privately in a small-secluded
garden below. From their tears I knew it was an intimate farewell not for
others eyes but as I watched I felt a twinge of grim satisfaction at removing
Haldir from Legolas by our departure in the hope his attentions once again fall
to me. Their private goodbye reminded me so much of my farewell to Arwen in
Rivendell but it was the gentle kiss at the conclusion of the meeting that sent
realization to my mind. Since watching Haldir’s and Legolas’ coupling that
night I have been toying with the idea of how deep my affections really are to
Arwen. The kiss Haldir and Legolas shared seemed to hold much more emotion than
any Arwen and I have shared and I am questioning why. Arwen is not my true love
only an expectation of tradition that Legolas described so vividly to Haldir in
thehambhamber. I am a victim of heritage despite having tried so hard not to
be. Solemnly I turn my attention back to paddling the canoe re focusing my
attention on the safety of Frodo in an attempt to justify my true reason for
coming along with the fellowship.

 

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I stand mortified as I watch Legolas slump to his knees upon
the edge of the river. His sobbing is a mournful tune that makes even the trees
weep in sorrow. Gimli leans quietly on his blood stained axe next to me, his
own broken soul obvious from his unnatural slump. The fellowship has broken,
Frodo and Sam are already across the other side of the river and I have no
intention of following them. I will not risk Frodo’s quest further by pushing
my tainted blood upon him. The last sight of Boromir’s floating coffin disappears
over the top of the waterfall. It is a fitting burial for one who only desired
the freedom and safety of his people and fought like the true warrior he was. I
sigh heavily my chest constricted to enormously tight proportions from the
fighting and the few hard blows I could not block. Gimli grunts his own
discomfort of various ailments before the agonising scream of defiance from
Legolas draws our attention back to the sad figure of the elf. Boromir’s death
accompanied by the loss of Gandalf and the failed fellowship has finally taken
its toll on the youngest Prince of Mirkwood. His emotionless facade has finally
broken under the pressure and he now weeps like a helpless child. His sheltered
youth has not exposed him to such losses as those he has encountered on this
journey and his natural elfish nature towards a peaceful existence for all has
been shattered into many irretrievable shards. I have seen it before, young
warriors that have returned from battle broken soles who are beyond the healing
of any power known. They suffer internally from the horrors that they have
witnessed until it finally consumes them into death. I shudder at the mere
thought as I drop my soiled weapons and walk unsteadily towards Legolas’
slumped figure.

 

I hear Gimli grunt as he sits down upon the grassy bank of
the river, his dwarfish ability to never tire finally caving in. We are in
little danger of the enemy now. The Uruk-hai having come and taken the hobbits
and made a hasty retreat after gaining their curious prize. What remains of the
enemy are in bloodied pieces around us already beginning to decay into the
earth, which gave them life to begin with. So I move stiffly to stand behind
Legolas’ his shoulders shuddering with each painful intake of air.

 

“Legolas’ it is over. We cannot help Frodo now, he must
decide his own fate. You Gimli and I must rescue Merry and Pippin from torment
and death at the hands of Saruman.” My voice is harsher than I mean it to be as
I speak in elfish to my companion. For a moment he ignores me and continues to
stare out at the rushing water of the river. At length he slowly stands
unsteady on his feet as he rises still with his back to me.

 

“Do not treat me as a child Aragorn. I need no sympathy from
you.” His words are lifeless and cold as he glances contemptibly over his
shoulder at me. The look of pure vengeance creases his lips into a sneer not
unlike the one he showed me during our stay in Rivendell. I can still see the
rivers of tears flowing down his cheeks as the emotionless facade washes across
his features again. Without warning he turns and pushes past me stalking
determinedly towards where his discarded weapons and cape sit in a pile next to
Gimli. We are all a mess, of wounds, bruises and sorrow but yet a determination
rises in us as Legolas straps his quiver upon his back and begins collecting as
many spare arrows from the bodies lying strewn around us. We do not speak to
one another as we gather only the essentials from our things for our journey of
rescue. It takes only a few minutes for us to stand facing one another battle
weary but ready all the same. I meet Legolas’ cold gaze and attempt a smile but
it is lost in his emotionless depths as he turns from me and leads us back into
the forest on the trail of the orcs. If Legolas was not lost from my attention
before he certainly is now.


TBC……………………..