Creature Comforts

Chapter 6

The cold westerly wind stings as it brushes over my face and
instinctively I pull my coat tighter around me. Below in the sheltered cove I
watch as Boromir teaches the three young hobbits the finer points of
swordsmanship. Their childish laughter soothing my soul and helping me decipher
the seriousness of what is to come. The dwarf Gimli and hobbit Samwise debate
good-naturedly over the making of a good meal, their banter relentless each as
stubborn as the other. Gandalf sits quietly under a small rocky outcrop smoking
his pipe, his wizened face betraying his dreary thoughts as he considers our
road ahead. It has been at least 7 weeks since we last passed the boarders of
Rivendell and several more still since Legolas has taken rest. I have been
becoming increasingly concerned for the elf. He has become immoveable in his
continued safety for the fellowship, not taking time for himself unless Gandalf
orders him to do so. I have not been witness to an elf so determined to conquer
all barriers as I have seen Legolas. The confrontation with his father has
changed him and I am not certain whether it is for the better.

 

A cry from a wounded hobbit draws my attention back from my
distant gaze to watch as Frodo and Merry attack the Steward of Gondor who has
quite unintentionally stepped on Pippin’s feet. I laugh to myself as the four
of them roll heavily upon the grass, the seriousness of defensive strategies in
battle forgotten for a moment as playful exchanges take precedent. In the wind
my nose picks up the sweet smell of warm broth and I turn to step down off the
rock, my stomach growling in hunger. Down in the small-protected dell we have
chosen for camp tonight I find Boromir, Gandalf and the other hobbits already
seated around the fire supping on Sam’s well-cooked meal. I take a moment to
glance at Frodo, his health and well being my greatest concern. When he smiles
at me and continues his conversation with Sam and Gimli I take the offered bowl
of broth and morsel of bread from Pippin before perching next to Gandalf
leaning back against the rock face.

 

“Where is Legolas?” Noting the elf’s absence I question the
others rather abruptly. I watch as all of them look around seemingly as if only
to notice now of the young elf’s disappearance. I go to abruptly stand up my
instincts for danger alarming me into action, however Gandalf lays a comforting
hand on my shoulder and points easily over to the line of trees a few metres
away. I sigh heavily as a familiar lean figure emerges from the shadows.
Reluctantly I settle back to my meal, my anger at him, cooled somewhat by
Gandalf’s stern gaze. Legolas joins us and sits cross legged next to Boromir
who moves easily across to make room for him. I raise an eyebrow as I watch the
exchange between them as Boromir passes Legolas a small bowl of soup. It seems
since Legolas scene with his father that his supposed confession of love for
the Steward of Gondor has been forgotten. I alone have contemplated it
continually since hearing of it, as well as what I had overheard at the stream
on that fateful day. We sit in silence for a long time our hunger from the
day’s journey forcing itself into priority over idol conversation. I take
curious glances at Legolas every now and then, between checking that Frodo is
eating as much as he should.

 

It is late when the hobbits finally settle down into slumber
under the watchful gaze of Gandalf. Gimli is snoring, the sound piecing the
peaceful silence with thunderous snorts. Boromir is taking first watch while I
recline easily against the tree trunk and light up my pipe weed. Legolas is
still sitting cross-legged by the fire his blanket draped over his shoulders.
In the firelight I can see the glow of his profile as he leans forward to get
closer to it’s heat. His features are perfect, the pale, illuminesent skin
stretched carefully over his high cheekbones, his slender nose and his
perfectly tapered chin. Unconsciously I lick my lips my mouth suddenly dry as I
watch Legolas lean back from the fire and lift a small skin of water to his
mouth. My breath seems to falter of it’s own accord as I watch the lump rise
and fall in Legolas neck as he drinks. When he pulls the water skin away, his
lips glisten with moisture and I cannot help but imagine what it would be like
to feel them against my own. A coughing startles me from my adoring gaze and I
catch up with the image as I see Legolas slump over slightly and cough with a
frighteningly unhealthy bark for a self healing elf. Rising from my seat I walk
swiftly over to the prince and place a comforting hand upon his shoulder
feeling him t ins instantly under my touch.

 

“You do not sound well.” When the coughing has stopped I sit
down next to Legolas as he pulls the blanket further around his shoulders.

“It is nothing. Just soreness from being around those of you
who smoke those dratted pipe things far too much.” I laugh at his accusing nod
towards my pipe that sits balanced between my lips. Smoking is a tradition not
practised by elves and I know that extended exposure to the smoke of one not
used to it, can cause irritation of the eyes and throat. Reluctantly I dampen
out my smouldering pipe for the benefit of the elf. Reaching to my pack I
remove a small vial of honey and hand it to the elf. He looks at it cautiously
and sniffs it wearily unsure of its contents.

 

“It is medicinal honey Legolas, I will not poison you. Take
it, it will sooth the irritation.” Nodding he swiftly swallows the contents and
hands the empty vial back for me to return to my bag. I watch as he licks his
lips in satisfaction of the sweet taste before sighing and snuggling in further
to his blanket. He is like a child despite his warrior like appearance. I catch him staring intently at me sideways
in the firelight and I watch as he blushes and turns away.

 

“It is as if you have never seen my face before Legolas,
what is wrong have I left remains of my supper in my whiskers.” Consciously I
stroke my rough short beared, making him chuckle lightly at my vanity. The
smile that graces his face has long been absent since we left Rivendell and I
rejoice in bringing it back if only for a moment to light up his features. He
shakes his head at my question before shuffling back onto his bedroll and lying
down sideways in an effort to remain facing the fire, his eyes reflecting it’s
flickering dance as he stares at it. In the silence that follows between us I
find myself once again running over the events that passed at Rivendell and all
that I have learned about the young elf. I am exceedingly curious to know just
why exactly Legolas had confessed his love of Boromir and of the truth behind
it.

 

“The land is quiet tonight, I scouted earlier and there were
no signs of untoward activity. We should savour the peace while we have it.” A
hardness has returned to Legolas features as he speaks softly of our journey,
his eyes showing no emotiust ust as they did at the council. I nod quietly and
tuck my hands into my coat as a wind whistles coldly around us. A twinge of
pain creases across my shoulder as I shiver with cold and I instinctively reach
up to clutch at it, my breath staggering for a moment before returning to
normal. My exterior wound has healed well but the internal weakness it has left
in my shoulder is trying when I am unre. My. My discomfort is not missed by
Legolas who sits up slightly and stares at me sympathetically. “I thought
Glorfindel said your wound had healed fully, why is that you are in pain
again?”

 

“It is nothing but a stiffness that has come with little
use. It will lesson as I swing my sword a few times.” Legolas accepts my explanation
although suspiciously as he lies back down on his bedding. Once again we fall
into silence and I find myself once again hopelessly wanting to know about
Legolas’ love. Steeling myself into the resolve of asking him, I straighten my
back and glance at him as calmly as I can.


”Legolas?” I grab his attention from the firelight and he tilts his head to the
side in question. Taking a small breath of fresh air I continue quite bluntly
and a little harsher than I mean to. “Why did you confess to your father a love
for Boromir?” Panic seems to wash over Legolas’ body as he stiffens and glances
over to where the hobbits are all curled together asleep. He swallows hard and
turns back to me when he’s satisfied both the hobbits, Gandalf and Gimli are
out of hearing range if any of them should wake.

 

“You have no such permission to ask that of me.” Legolas
glares at me as he goes to stand up and move hastily away but I grasp for his
hand and hold him firmly in place on his bedding. The anger I see in his eyes makes
me shiver a little as he brutally tugs his hand free and shuffles ungracefully
further from my reach.

 

“Come Legolas we have no secrets between us all, if there is
potential for this love to interfere with what we set out to accomplish I wish
to know about it.” Legolas grunts contemptibly much like a dwarf would do in a
huff. His steely blue eyes look wild in the firelight as he sneers at me and
shakes his head.

 

“What do you wish of me Estel? To revenge the sting of my
arrow, for I believe I already apologised for that and have received your
forgiveness. Yove ive interrupted my privacy twice already with your nosiness
and now you ask this of me, you are insatiable.” He pauses in his harsh whisper
and I instantly regret ever bringing up the subject. He is right I have invaded
his privacy far too much already without asking this of him. I go to apologise
but he raises a hand to stop me his eyes reflecting betrayal. “It is true, I no
more desire Boromir than the dwarf Gimli but considering the situation I said
what was going to cause the less hurt to all involved. I acted how I felt best
suited the moment and if you are done Ranger, having humiliated and discovered
my secrets, I would beg of you to speak to me no more of matters that don’t
directly concern the success of this journey and that you leave me be to gain
peace in solitude.” A cold shiver runs the length of my spine at the sharpness
of Legolas words as he spat out the word Ranger in disgust before turning over
with his back to me and covering himself in the blanket. I sigh heavily and
lower my gaze to the thin blades of grass I have been twisting between my
fingers. The bright green has stained my palms and I wipe them consciously upon
my coat. There is movement across the other side of the fire and I glance up to
watch Gandalf shake his head at me in frustration.


Rising slowly to my feet, I saunter back over to my own bedding, feeling as if
I were once again a naughty child before I lie down and fall quietly into
unrested slumber. I shall find no rest upon this journey what with my instincts
telling me to act one way while rationality screams at me to act in another. My
inner turmoil may be the downfall of the fellowship but I shall not let that
happen. Legolas is a creature that confusion goes beyond describing and I will
not trouble myself with him again until our task is complete.

TBC……………………..