|
Disclaimer: I own not New Line, anything Tolkien, nor,
unfortunately, Legolas. My loss. I only own my
own mind… though I think my elven harem of muses, my two feline muses, and my
smattering of creativity demons are truly only letting me borrow it from time
to time. This fic is what happens when
one's brain gets fried from putting too many kid's shows into the servers at
work at 4am - the brain gets rather warped.
So, I really can't blame this one on the muses… they're all looking at
me with a bit of worry and fear in their eyes right now. So I'll blame Barney, Jay Jay The Jet Plane,
Teletubbies, and a serious lack of caffiene whilst working third shift in a TV
station. At least, that's my story, and I'm sticking
to it! J PS: In case you don't know me - I don't do
slash. Thought you should know, just in
case. Note: This story has been updated to include definitions of
the Elvish used within. Definitions are
at the end. SHATTER
ME NOT BY KAHVA I can feel your fiery gaze upon my
soul… You burn me. You fill my being with desire, lust,
harsh passion… need… twisted love… Hate... I feel your touch… Fingers running across my pale flesh, leaving
tendrils of heat in their wake… now pure raging fire… Ai! You burn me. Oh, how you burn me! You fill my mind with thoughts noble
and perverse, compassionate and cold, loving and hateful… good and evil. Get
out of my soul!! You want me - for what reasons I
both understand, and fail to comprehend.
You tempt me with the greatest fruits of desire, the sweetest nectar
from the most beautiful flowers - Ai! It is as if you drown me with the very miruvor that Gandalf carries with him
from Imladris - nay! It is miruvóre, the very nectar of the Valar
you court me with, made from the flowers of the gardens of Yavanna, but more,
stronger… Instead of a mere flask of
that blessed cordial, you have filled an ocean with it, and now you seek to
submerge me into the intoxicating relief that comes with the banishment of
great pain and weariness. You seek to
thoroughly drown me, then breathe precious life back into my body, life forged
and branded by your dark desires. You
wish for your essence to permeate every part of my being, my mind, my fëa…
All the while, you promise to fill me with the best of the Dorwinion,
place sweet morsels of lembas upon my
tongue, whisper words of love and comfort in my ear… Your words are poison! You promise me all of Arda, swear to
me that the sea shall never call me, you claim your fidelity to me shall never
waver or wane… You cling to me
desperately as the most beguiling of lovers, yet pledge to ensure my freedom
from everything, including yourself. I can feel your heat. You seek to seduce me. Your touch is everywhere all at once now, so
gentle, cajoling… Malevolent… You seek to bend me, mold me, break
me apart, rend my body and soul to pieces slowly with your merest touch, you
wish to drink up my agony, to bathe your hands in my bleeding spirit... I
will not allow it. I am an Elf. I am Legolas, the Green Leaf. I am Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood. I am Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, son of King
Thranduil. I am Legolas
Thranduilion. I am one of the Nine
Companions. I am one of the Nine
Walkers. I am one of the Companions of
the Ring. I am a sworn protector of the
Ring-bearer. I am Legolas… and I refuse your seduction. Speak to me no more, One Ring of
Sauron… You shall shatter me not. Ai – Ah! or
Alas! miruvor –
cordial of Imladris miruvóre -
mead, a special wine or cordial, literally: drink of the Valar fëa – spirit lembas –
waybread, journey bread
|
