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Old July 5th, 2007, 10:31 PM
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TITLE: Sympathy for the Elf
AUTHOR: Nuit
RATING: PG13
WARNINGS: None really apart from being a bit bloody morose
SUMMARY: Legolas goes home, with some happy thoughts and a kiss from a friendly young man
DISCLAIMER: I apologise.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I was thinking about mortality and celebrating each day and to be honest how it is a gift to be here. Kali's gift and all that. I am appallingly ignorant of Tolkien, and so I apologise. I know that Legolas sailed off to Valinor eventually with Gimli after Aragorn's death, I wondered what might have happened after Gimli died too (I read that mortals were not given immortality there) **** it isn't canon , god forbid, but I was thinking about the power of emotion that Legolas felt in Middle Earth and whether that would have pulled him back. Oh and the quote from Bush is a real one- but from a radio interview not on the telly, so that bit isn't real..heeh


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Sympathy for the Elf
Long thin fingers stroked down the sheen of condensation on the outside of the tall glass. They had long since stopped tingling when he drank, no matter how empty the bottle. A single gulp swallowed three shots, watered down at least a little with tonic. Well it was early yet; the bar still only half full in that in between time after the offices emptied and the serious drinking began. The time when you got served easily, without waiting. Perhaps though he was always waiting for something.
“Same again is it Sir?”

“I will take the bottle”

The young man’s faced screwed up a bit “We don’t do take out” he leaned a little further forward conspiratorially “any how you might want to try the Offy down the road- cheaper than buyin’ it here”

“I will take the bottle and drink it here” a crisp quiet voice answered him before a note of tenderness folded over the sentence; he had learned that they liked that, even from strangers “but thank you. Keep the change” and a confused but hopeful smile skittered over the bartenders face.

Folding the note quickly in two he raised his eyes to wonder if there was more “Anything you like mate, give me a nod. Bobby, that’s my name” But the words bounced off the broad back that disappeared into the recess of the bar, the straightest blonde hair just catching the swirl of warmed smoke air.

By the Valar he hoped there would be no trouble tonight, it followed him it seemed, men who took exception to his face, his unspeakable unfathomable strangeness, the attraction he held for their women, or themselves. Men who found themselves wishing they had left well alone in the dark alleys behind the next pub or club or dive, within an inch of their lives and pleading for mercy against silver spun knives and cold hard eyes. He was good at being merciful, but he was tired.

Oh he had fought alongside men, filled with zeal to carry on the alliance forged in Middle Earth, finding the honour, comradeship and comfort that had caressed and warmed his return from the perfection of Valinor into the mud and blood and tumult of the world of men. Here also he could strive to remember the hero, friend and king that had commanded his allegiance. And so his bow and his sword fell behind those who spoke of freedom and justice, were called upon and paid for in the smarting hail of arrows and the ringing crash of metal. He could hardly recall now, as the liquid finally reached the cold of his blood, the names of those whose battles he had fought. Harold killed by an arrow in the eye, Cromwell and Robespierre over the water bringing down hallowed dynasties and building up their own, Bolsheviks and freedom fighters and desperation in the centuries when the bow and sword gave way to the cannon and the gun and atomic implosion, revolutionary wars to almost Armageddon. Sauron perhaps had the last word.

A heavier clunk sounded as the bottle touched the side of his glass. Empty. In the cool blue of his eyes the light of a screen flickered, a half heard voice mouthed words above the thud of the jukebox “And because we are committed to the God-given worth of every life, we strive to promote respect for human dignity. Today, all who live in tyranny and all who yearn for freedom can know that America stands with them.” Photographer’s flashes and a man speaking on the 4th of July. He looked up to the bar with a deep hard breath “I think that calls for another”

He had slipped into company sometimes when fashion and trend allowed, ha, at least the late 20th century had delivered him the Goths and the hippies and the androgynous rebels so that he could walk unnoticed in a crowd of displaced identities. If he took enough he could even forget, forget that he didn’t belong even in a bunch of misfits. His silken slip of a body slid through gathering crowds to reach the dark wood bar, now wet with early evening pre dinner excess spills, and as he waited he could feel the gaze of many and the gasp of a few “Another bottle please. Bobby...was that it? Your name”

The young man behind the bar beamed back “Yeah. You sure? Well I suppose you are still standing” a chirpy grin preceded a more serious look “I am not being funny…but you might want to watch your back…there’s some blokes over there… ” Bobby didn’t know quite how to turn his eyes away from the cloud of blue sad resignation “listen, my shift ends in an hour; I have been here all day. We could go somewhere more friendly…you know what I mean?”

Clear white lids covered his eyes “Bobby, how far is it to the sea?”

A small grin crossed the bartenders face and a spread of warmth that told him that he was right, perhaps “what Brighton you mean? Be there before 10 if we bomb it”

“An hour before you finish? Then give me another bottle”

****

Seagulls cawed from the roof of the bed and breakfast as the thick sea weed sea rattled over the pebbles. If the window hadn’t been open to the salt he might have slept all day but his cerulean blue eyes flickered and sighed. On the pillow next to him dark curls and the contentment of sex made him smile despite himself, and he reached to touch the lips of the young man that had sustained and fortified him. The tangle of boil washed sheets and limbs engrossed him briefly as he contemplated the last morning in the world of men, but despite a small murmur of ‘yes’ twitching at the corner of that mouth, one still entwined in sleep and passing back into dreams, Legolas slid from the covers to walk to the window, deep and wide and open to the sea. Far from the open desolate shores of Middle Earth he took in the pier and the beach huts, the fun fair and the promenade. But in the roar of his ears the unending tide pulled at the stones and his heart. He would find a boat.

“Will you come back to bed?” a groggy voice filtered into his thoughts before Legolas turned, silhouetted in the first light he was perfection and unattained “Jesus, who are you?”

Stepping back to the bed Legolas watched his own tender fingers follow mortal contours that would sink and fall, muscles that would wane and skin that would dry to the bone as he gathered the sound of sighs and moans to his soul. “It doesn’t matter. Tell me Bobby, do you have hope?”

Lust laden eyes cleared for a second to catch deep blue “it is just a matter of time mate” A wry smile nodded back and Legolas opened his mouth to taste his last human kiss.
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Last edited by nuit; October 20th, 2010 at 06:50 AM.
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Old February 25th, 2008, 08:33 AM
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KiwiGirl KiwiGirl is offline
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So many awful things over so many years, so many that have been loved that have been lost. I can only imagine how lonely it would have been for him. This is so poignant and just beautiful...
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Old April 18th, 2009, 08:16 PM
Guin Sparrow Guin Sparrow is offline
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What a sweet story! Well done!
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Old April 20th, 2009, 04:38 PM
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Thanks! I think that is the first time it got called sweet, but that is just fine- thanks for reading X
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Old April 20th, 2009, 04:45 PM
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GfLady2 GfLady2 is offline
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why do you apologize Nuit? its a lovely story and well written.
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Old April 20th, 2009, 06:11 PM
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Thank you- I am very glad you like it. I have rarely written about Legolas, well for all sorts of reasons, but I have always felt a little intimidated by that 'canon' thing, and people do tend to get rather touchy. Placing him in a world I do know something about seemed like the best way for me to make a connection with all that very 'human' sadness.
*hugs*
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Old April 20th, 2009, 10:38 PM
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awww, dont let the elf intimidate ya, or anyone for that matter, I liked this, it is well written.
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Old April 21st, 2009, 09:28 PM
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I will try not to, not so much him perhaps as all of the huge weighty tone that goes with it- that and the Legolasses and their pechant for red speedos! EEK!

Thanks again XX
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Old April 21st, 2009, 11:13 PM
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Oi, so what's wrong with red speedo's on an Elf? Oh, okay, I actually agree, I just go with the flow and it's funny. Budgie Smugglers on ANYONE is just simply wrong...
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Old October 19th, 2010, 04:44 PM
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Have snaffled Tabithas Cat's banner from the current graphics challange to add to this story- seemed rather apt- and another Rolling Stones number to boot!
Gosh this was a long time ago....
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Old October 19th, 2010, 07:15 PM
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Beautiful graphic, marries so nwel with this beautriful if very sad story. Was pleased to read it again, son well done.
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Old October 19th, 2010, 07:55 PM
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I don't think I have read this so was a lovely surprise. Is always interesting when you place these characters in a modern setting...parts actually made me think of Edward...the beauty, his strength, the immortality and all of that. Gorgeous Nuit-can see how the banner all fits now
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Old October 19th, 2010, 09:00 PM
Krazymoonkat Krazymoonkat is offline
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Wow, Nuit, you did the elf!

What a great glimps at what it would be like emotionally to live though so much for so long and to just keep going. My heart reaches out to him and to you, where you must have been emotionally when you wrote this.
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