Thorns & Roses (Legolas Love Story)

28. Curse

A person’s true identity can often be difficult to discern, even to themselves, causing one to question their character, their calling, their very existence. For most, time gives clarity, but for others, these questions remained unanswered for an identity can not be fully defined when it is a guarded secret.

***

[SARA POV]

Numb.

It was all that registered to me. That, along with the dimness of the sun that poured into the room through the blinds– was complimentary.

In a way, I was glad. Being numb was far easier, more bearable than to actually feel.

I preferred to give the credit to the potion that had started to begin its work, seeping into my system and flowed within my blood. It should start lessening the pain on my dislocated wrist that had begun to turn blue overnight. I hadn’t felt it fully kicking in yet for the throbbing in my wrist was still there, nagging at me.

I waited.

The potion didn’t numb the pain on my wrist. Instead, it numbed something in my chest. It was as if my heart was missing. Or turned into stone.

Nevertheless, I was thankful for it.

Give me broken wrist. Let me tumble down the stairs. Take away air from my lungs. I’d take them a hundred more times and be grateful– as long as I don’t feel.

I sat on my bed and pulled my knees to my chest, hugging my feet. With numbness, came fatigue. I didn’t know how, but even after a night’s sleep, I woke up more tired and just… drained.

The void in my chest felt too close to the emptiness of Khazad-dum.

The image of the Rohirrim soldier above me as he grasped my throat within his hands flashed through my mind.

‘You are weak,’ I remembered him said.

A wave of hatred and resentment at the sour memory loomed inside my chest as his words echoed in my ears.

Have I just pretended to be tough? Maybe I wasn’t strong enough. In my defense, who could be prepared for this kind of life? Could anyone?

Then I remembered why I was here in the first place.

I was going to get revenge for my father.

Could revenge be the sole fuel for this kind of journey? Will it be enough to get me through?

These questions that I asked myself served as another reminder. A hunch. The feeling that I wouldn’t make it to the end.

I eyed the small, clear vial in my hand lazily. The liquid inside was crystal clear, intriguing, almost inviting that it was a little hard to believe that it was actually poison I held in my hand.

As I stared at the deceptively seductive poison, I began to understand who this thing was meant for.

My greatest enemy: Ungol.

I remembered him, the dark queen’s pawn that I once saw in a vision. The monster inside me couldn’t break me, so now he was going after me. His face was ever changing. He could hide in the plain sight, undetected. Be anyone.

Now how am I supposed to know who my enemy is? And most importantly: How the fuck am I supposed to poison him?

My mouth felt dry, my throat parched and sore. The mere thoughts about my enemy had rendered me utterly spent.

I sighed and lowered my weary head down, my cheek rested on my knees once again, my eyes fluttered close as I gripped the tiny vial in my good left hand. The void in my chest seemed to be growing, expanding the emptiness that was inside.