Unspoken ( A Legolas Love Story )

30: Awakening

Wren suddenly awoke, incredulous that she had fallen asleep. It was still dark. She was half-sitting, half-lying across the bed. She looked towards Legolas.

In her horror, she realized that the bed was empty.

The walls of the cabin began to close in around her, crushing her lungs. She was paralyzed in hopeless fear; her thoughts were screaming at her. The loudest of which cried, he has passed and they have taken his body. Wren held her hands to her ears. A howl of anguish began rising in her body, how could she live. She felt as if someone was choking her.

"Aletheîa."

The earth moved.

A voice had just said her name. A voice that she now realized that she had loved more than anything in her world. She held her breath in the deathly silence. Wren knew, that if for a moment, she dared to breathe out, the dream would fade and she would be lost again.

"Aletheîa." She heard it again.

Almost at once, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She spun around, as if someone had struck her. She stared wild-eyed and disbelieving at the perpetrator.

His face was beautiful. She knew that her own face was tear-stained and grey from weeping for hours; her eyes red and her hair disheveled. And yet, when she looked into those blue eyes, it was if none of that mattered. In his eyes, she saw the best version of herself. Her throat closed with emotion, she could not speak.

"Walk with me, Aletheîa. I am feeling more alive than I have ever been."

The simplicity of the request seemed to jar her from her trance.

They walked, Wren could not remember how, her body felt numb, almost disobedient. Breathing was difficult and she wished she could quiet the clamor of her heart, as it deafened her own ears. The stars still hung in the sky, but the full moon was waning and sinking towards the horizon.

She finally turned towards him, as her thoughts coalesced and she tried to gather her speech.

"But, Legolas, how-'' she started.

Legolas looked at her. His blue eyes were alight. And he said, almost gently, "At some point in the early hours of this morning, my fever passed and I felt whole again. I rose, dressed, and waited for you to wake."

That was not an explanation, by any means, but somehow further words stuck in her throat. And indeed, it did not really matter, for she knew that soon she would wake for a second time, and the dream would end.

They walked side by side, then without stopping and without warning, Legolas reached down and subtly, but purposefully took hold of her hand in his.

Stunned, Wren looked down at her hand. It was wrapped in his long, slender, elven fingers. There was a warmth flowing through her, like nothing she had ever felt before.

Wren felt a new hope rising, perhaps this was not a dream. She tried to suppress the hope that began to creep through her, but it persisted and sent her pulse racing.

They walked that way, their hands inextricably linked, until they reached the ridge that looked across the valley. She could feel his tension, increasing with every step. At the cliff top, Legolas stopped and gently guided Wren by her hand to face him.

Tenderly, he took hold of her other hand and raised them both to his chest. She lifted her head and found him looking deep into her eyes. His eyes drew her inside him. She could feel his heart beating, rapid and strong. Her own heart was racing wildly. She found it hard to breathe again.