Lord of the Rings Oneshots

Used to Be Mine P. II | Finrod

It was cold that night. Not the, 'the stars are out and the wind is gently blowing against me', but the obnoxious kind where the wind was aggressively smacking against you as your hair blew all over the place. The kind that left bitter kisses all over your skin that would only be remedied with a velvet soft blanket and an even warmer person to snuggle closer with. But you only had a fur lined cloak and the distant memories of a roaring hearth. Perhaps running away in the middle of the night in the dead winter wasn't a smart decision, but your mind was far too cloudy to make sound choices.

You'd hurt Finrod, you knew you had. It felt like a barbed arrow had pierced through your chest everytime you wandered too close to civilization, seeing dozens of postings offering mountains of gold to anyone who had information on you. It felt like a thousand tiny blades were piercing your skin when you'd look at the stars, only to be reminded of Finrod's eyes that shined like ten thousand stars. Or when the sun's rays would dare be so radiant and bright, nearly enough to blind you, and remind you of the warmth and comfort his smile brought you. Only for that to be ripped away when you were left alone in the cold

There wasn't a day you didn't consider turning around. Every night you'd relive your fondest memories with him, feeling his phantom touches that would wrap around you, hearing his voice whisper to you in elvish as you drift off. And every morning, even as you set off further and further away from him you'd mentally prepare a grand and emotional speech to recite to Finrod in hopes of earning his forgiveness. But you didn't. You didn't even dare to look behind you most days, because if you did, you knew you'd crack.

But you weren't ready to face that yet, instead opting to increase the distance like a coward.

So you stood by the still river, watching the reflection of the stars in the water. Your camp fire rapidly burned behind you, casting everything in a warm glow, but doing little to nothing about the freezing cold. So entranced by your own thoughts, living in a fantasy that was just out of reach, you didn't hear anything amiss. Until it was too late.

"Y/N." a voice called from behind you, a voice you'd recognize anywhere. You froze in your place, back stiff as a board. Your heart hammered in your chest, so loud you were sure he could hear it clear as day. You know it's him, it couldn't be anyone but him. However there was a shadow of a doubt in the back of your head. That nasty voice that shouted to you he wasn't really here, that this is just one big hallucination.

Needing confirmation, you turn your body, your hands that lie limp at your sides shaking like autumn leaves falling from the trees. And for a moment you hope that the little part of your brain was right, prayed that Finrod wasn't standing before you. You didn't want to have to face the consequences of your rash actions, to see first hand how much damage you did. Yet there he was, regal and ethereal as ever, however something seemed... off.

His pale skin that usually glowed with otherworldliness - something that clearly separated him from morals - seemed dim. He was still pale, yes, but not like the pale light that washed over the world when the moon came out or the scintillating glow of the distant stars, but more like the dead. His skin looked sallow and aged, deep set bags surrounding his eyes that looked like her ran a stick of coal under them. But worst of all was his eyes. His sapphire blue eyes that used to glitter like thousands of diamonds were dull and tired and defeated. You always knew what he was feeling or thinking just by looking into his eyes, and now you wish you hadn't.

But hidden in the depths of the sea of despair he seemed to be drowning in, there was a slight sparkle to them. A small smile tugs on his lips, but it isn't filled with the usual radiance he carried himself with, this one looked... exhausted, like it took all his willpower to keep himself together.

Taking all of this in, your heart stopped and your breath got caught in your throat. Your mouth grew drier than any desert as you watched him. Time seemed to grow still, seconds that used to tick by rapidly halt until it feels like a century before anything changes. You open and close your mouth, unsure of what to say. What could you say? It was written all over his face the effect you had on him when you left.