Bright Like a Star

So, this chapter was actually meant to be posted last week, unfortunately, because of a death in the family I was not able to do so. I ask all of you to bear with me in the next couple of weeks, and Hopefully, things should get going a little faster now that school is coming to a close. (My next chapter is actually almost completely written, so depending on the response this chapter gets, Part 2 of revelations will be out soon.

I would like to thank louise_oblique, and harui, you are both amazing people, and I appreciate you sticking with me. Thanks also goes to everyone else who has read this so far, I hope you are enjoying this.


Chapter 8: Revelations Part 1


Legolas gasped and arched his back as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over him, tearing him apart from the outside, while another force tore him from within. He clutched desperately at his mates shoulders, seeking to anchor himself, for he feared that should he let go, he would be lost forever in the bittersweet torture that had him aquiver upon the bed. Finally the raging storm within both lovers came to a crashing crescendo, before the sea of their passion ebbed away.

“I love you Aragorn,” Legolas softly whispered, before both fell into the bliss of sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thúlon closed his eyes and screamed as the metal tipped whip fell upon his back ceaselessly, stripping the very flesh from his body. Blood slithered lazily down his thighs and calves to pool in small puddles on the earthen floor. Small pieces of curled flesh floated lazily on the bloody pools, looking grotesquely out of place in the silvery ocean upon which they floated. Another scream slipped from Thúlon’s lips, and then there was silence. No bird or insect could be heard, and even the sharpest of elven ears would not have been able to hear even the rustle of leaves.

“What do you want of me?” the fair haired elf hissed, though his voice was barely above a whisper. A laugh sounded at his question, and his torturer’s bloody eyes flashed in amusement.

“’Tis not you that I want, youngling. No, it is your young brother that I want, and you shall bring him to me.

“No…” the elf whispered as he slowly but surely lost his fight with consciousness, and then all slipped to black.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two Weeks Later…

Legolas sat back on his heels, tears of frustration shining in his eyes as he began to tremble. He had been having these bouts of sickness for the past several days, and they were beginning to truly frighten him. It was extremely unusual for an elf to get sick. At first he has passed it off as lingering effects of his poisoning, but the sickness was getting worse and coming more frequently. Even if this was merely the lingering effects of his poisoning, he was still afraid, he was not used to the feeling of being sick, and the helplessness that overtook him after each bout. He supposed that he should go to a healer, but that terrified him even more, that would mean admitting to himself and to Aragorn his sickness, and he was not so sure he would be able to deal with the repercussions of that admission. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he would wait for now, wait and pray that whatever ailed him would pass quickly and unnoticed.

“Legolas?” He looked up at his lover, who had entered the bathroom just as he had stood up from his kneeling position.

“Hmm?” he replied, not particularly in the mood talktalking.

“Legolas, I am sorry, I have some terrible news for you. Come, why don’t you sit down?” Legolas cast Aragorn a long look, before deciding he like the idea, unfortunately, his nausea chose that moment to make itself known to him once again this day. With a jerk, he flung himself down in front of the basin he had been using earlier and emptied what was left of his stomach. He was vaguely aware of large soothing hands rubbing circles upon his back and holding his hair from his face as he continued to retch, and he was grateful. When he was finally done, he found himself too weak to lift himself up again, so he was thankful when strong arms lifted him up and carried him to bed.

“Legolas, my love, what is this?” the elf found he was too weak to answer after going through two bouts of nausea already, and so he said nothing, deciding to let himself feel comforted by the man’s soothing embrace.

Aragorn felt worried by his love’s actions. The same thoughts that had run through the elf’s mind ran through his now, ‘perhaps this is the effect of the poison,’ but somehow he did not think so. Gandalf had told him that the poison should leave Legolas’ system quickly enough, and it had already been several weeks since his elf’s awakening. For now, though, Aragorn allowed himself to be content with simply holding his lover until his strength could be recovered to at least some degree. When Legolas did finally regain consciousness, he seemed, for the most to be feeling better, which caused the man even more worry, ‘how long has he been going through this,’ he wondered, as he maneuvered his love into a more upright position.

“Legolas, what is going on? This is not like you, and I do not think this to be the effects of your poisoning.” The elf closed his eyes, a feeling of helplessness washing over him, he had never wanted the man to know of his illness, and, in fact, he had been working very hard over the last several weeks to make sure that his weakness was not found out.

“Legolas?” there was a demanding tone in Aragon’s voice now, and involuntarily Legolas flinched away, before a sigh of defeat slid from between his lips.

“For nearly two weeks have I been going through this,” he admitted, looking up at his lover with wide eyes, expecting some sort of reprimand. He was surprised, however, when the only response was a loud sigh.

“Come then, let us get you to Gandalf so that he may tell us what is going on with you,” Aragorn said, wanting to get this over with before he had to tell his fair elf the bitter news he had just received. Slowly the couple made their way to the wing of the palace in which the wizard resided. This part of the palace was all but empty, and an eerie quiet seemed to have befallen the halls. There was little warmth here, and there was a chill here that reminded both man and elf of the palace dungeons. Even the walls lacked the magnificent tapestries and plush carpet of the rest of the palace.

“I have never understood why Gandalf chooses to reside here,” Legolas said, shifting closer to Aragorn in the hope of sharing his warmth. “There is a dark foreboding in my mind that seems only to grow stronger as we walk among these corridors.” Suddenly Legolas looked as if a thought struck him, and he spoke again, “What was here before? Before the palace was rebuilt?” Aragorn thought for a long moment before a look of surprise came upon his face as if he were realizing something for the very first time.

“I…These were my fathers chambers,” he said softly, “this was where my father drew his last breaths.” There was a far away look in his eyes, “Everything around this place was destroyed in the war, but this corridor remained intact. I never really thought about it really,” he admitted. Before Legolas could respond to this, they reached Gandalf’s door, and with a sideways look at his, Ar, Aragorn knocked on the door, momentarily glad for the distraction.

“Yes yes, come in come in,” came a gruff voice from behind the door, and with a quick shove, he pushed the door open.

Unlike the halls, Gandalf’s room was full of this and that, with books and unidentifiable items scattered here and there. The smell of pipe weed and tea permeated everything, and Legolas could not him crinkling his nose at the strong smell, which seemed to make him feel nauseous all over again. Aragorn, seeing him swoon, quickly guided his fair lover onto a large divan placed in the center of the room.

“Well, what is this?” Gandalf questioned, walking over to Legolas, who had taken on an unhealthy shade of green.

“He has been having bouts of nausea for the past two weeks. It did not seem right to me, and I should think that the poison would have been long from his system,” Aragorn recited, as he gently stroked Legolas hair with one hand.

“You are quite right about the poison,” Gandalf said absentmindedly as he moved to gently poke and prod at various points on Legolas body, “why wasn’t I told of this before now?”

“I did not know,” the man admitted, “he failed to tell me as well.” Gandalf nodded at this, before pressing gently at the elf’s stomach, drawing a strangled gasp from the blond figure lying prostrate on the divan.

“Hmm…” The wizard seemed to be thinking to himself about something, before he made up his mind and retrieved what seemed to be a random book from his numerous shelves. There was quiet in the room, as the old man poured over the book, before asking a series of questions, all of which Legolas replied, “yes”. Once more Gandalf knelt beside the elf, but this time, his poking and prodding was focused on the elf’s stomach, where he produced a wide variety of sounds from the elf, none of which sounded pleasant.

“Do you know what is wrong with him,” Aragorn asked, becoming impatient.

“Well, yes, though I am quite surprised. I did not expect this at all.”

“What is wrong with me,” Legolas all but screamed in frustration, his cerulean eyes dancing dangerously.

“Well, it seems that you…” There was a loud bang in the corridor, which drew all three to their feet in alarm before Gandalf could manage to finish his sentence.