Title: For me the Pain is Still Too Near 
feedback: Melissaambr@aol.com 
Rating: PG 
Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas, but his feelings are out of my mind 
Summary: Legolas's feelings rage over a loss too heavy to bear 
 

 
For Me The Pain Is Still Too Near 
 
He walked off by himself, going nowhere and not really caring or thinking. The grief that  

had now been laid upon his heart troubled him. His friend of many decades and mentor 
had  

parished. Fallen into shadow. He had not shed tears for the beloved Gandalf The Grey, 
but  

now the hot tears started to flow and wouldn't stop. An elf's tears are bright and blue, and  

the wind stung in his eyes so he closed them. But the picture of pain flashed like lighting  

in his mind. He sat down and wiped off his face. 


He unstrapped his bow, arrows, and two daggars and dropped them at his feet, the cold 
winter 
was setting in Khashekdula, the bleek snows still raged to the north, and were finally  

blowing to the south. He pulled his green velvet cloak over his head so that it draped  

heavily to his contours. He now wished to have stayed with his brothers. -No- He cleared 
his  

thoughts and stared at the dirt under his feet. 

Everything looked harsh and angry. The once beautiful trees, the silent rivers, and The  

Shire, too, he knew, looked the same way. Death did that. Made everything rage and blur 
in  

front of his eyes. He wiped furiously again at his eyes. He'd heard Aragorn when he told 
him  

to get the others up, but he'd walked away. And when Aragorn called his name over again 
he  

never glanced back. He was angry too, as angry as everything around him looked angry. 
Why  

did they take away his friend? Why did they make him suffer - the Gods - ? He wanted to 
go  

back into the mines and wrangle every single Orc neck and scream at Sauron's spirit. ' 
Why  

did you do it!? Why did you take away my hope and my compainions!?' and he would 
spit in  

Sauron's face and drive an arrow staight into where his heart should have been! 

And now, he sat, suffering, away from the others that certainly suffered too, even if they  

all didn't show it, he cried into the ground, his trembling hands on either side of his  

aching head. He slumped back against the tree, clenching his teeth so as not to cry out. 
The  

pain whelled up in him like no other pain he'd ever endured. He knew this must be agony, 
and  

he never before knew that he could conceive of caring for someone so much that it 
caused  

agony when they... fell... no other word could desribe what Gandalf had done.  
The sobs finally began to calm themselves as he took deep, labored breaths and slouched  

again in emotional defeat. He heard a movment near his side and turned his head. 
There. just rising over the small hill, was Frodo Baggins, alone and looking right into his  

eyes. So trusting, scared, painfilled and vunerable they looked. A crystalline green. Frodo  

took the last few steps and stood beside him. His hobbit sized hand reached up and took 
the  

velvet green - clad shoulder under his hand. His small fingers gave a strengthful squeeze,  

reasurrence.
 
Reasurrence that Frodo was racked with the same feelings of hate, anger, rage and sorrow  

that he was. That they both shared something unspokenly understood and humanly. Frodo 
simply  

let his hand fall, like his tears, and sat down by his friend. 
He gazed down at Frodo, he was so strong, yet fragile and breaking now that his only true  

mentor had gone from his side. He knew that no matter how great his feelings were, 
Frodo's  

were the thousandths mutipule of that. He put his still shaky hand on Frodo's back, letting  

him know he was there for him if he needed anything at all. 

"Frodo!" Aragorn's voice ran into his ears and through the trees. Frodo barely glanced at  

him and stood up, walking past Aragorn on his way to the others. Aragorn walked up and  

stopped only a few feet from him. He didn't look up, for he knew Aragorn's face would 
be  

hard but that his eyes were melting and sad. Kind, as they had always been. 
He inhaled deeply, knowing that Aragorn heard his shaking last sob. He strapped on his  

weapons again as he stood up. He also knew that Aragorn saw his red blotched, tear 
streaked  

face full on. Yet he felt no shame in it. Aragorn  took his hand off his sword hilt and  

patted his back softly. That was one of the only emotions he ever showed to fellow men.  

Except Aragorn was human and he was an elf. Though Aragorn had the patience of elves 
since  

he was adopted into them, raised by Elrond himself. 

He looked at the horizon as he walked with Aragorn, never looking over at his right, for 
he  

knew what would neet him there. Those eyes. The horizon still looked mean and bleak 
and  

terribly burdened. He sucked up his feelings, and cast them back down into the firy casim 
of  

his soul. But the agony for those lost krept back into his throat, making his tears come  

once more, though he raised no hand to stop them. 

"In time, it will pass." Aragorn's voice drifted and lingered in his ears. 

"Yes." He could only respond before he choked down his cries. 

"Come..... Legolas." 
 
End