Nocturne Vicinum
Everyone should be... but that wasn't the case with this one.
I should have been happy. I really should have been. After all, Isildur's
heir
had broken the curse and had fulfilled the obligations that his forefather had
failed to do.
But that wasn't the case. I was angry. And bitter. Even with the Evenstar at
my side, I was NOT Appeased. So what if I had that damned crown on my head? So
what if I had helped defeat the dark forces? So what if I had the power to find
that fucking tree?
My lover was dead and there was no way in this earth or another that I could
replace him,
So that was the reason why I didn't give a damn about Gondor and her king. He
wasn't there.
There was nothing for me to care about then.
He should have been happy. I don't understand it. Why was he so sad? He
should
be happy that it was all over. All that he had fought for had been handed to
him on a silver platter. Why was he sad? Why is he so apathetic? Why?
If I had been in his place, I would be smiling at the crowds in front of me.
If I had such a consort at my beck and call, my joy would know no bounds. But
I
don't. I have nothing.
I don't even have my own life to call my own. Not anymore. What I have is a
pale facsimile of that. A half-life that I must live out in the fringes of
natural life.
Which means that I can never get close to him. Never have his arms around me.
Never watch him sleep. Never make love to him on the plains with the moon.
Never to hear him call my name.
We aren't supposed to have emotions like this. We aren't supposed to become
so
attached to those transient beings. But we are.
I cannot help but to miss him. I need him. I want him. Even though it is
wrong
to cross that boundary between our two races, I have to try.
But getting the courage to do it. That may be harder to do than dying.
Part 2: Duet
Drowning in a sea of rage,
Aragorn
He smiled softly as he cleared the space between us in what seemed an
effortless and economical sequence of movements. Movements that made me pause a
little in my thinking as I watched him. He had a new grace now, making it seem
as if he was gliding on the floor rather than walking upon it. Apart from that,
he was the same as he had ever been. Or so I thought.
It wasn't until he had my face cupped in his hands that I noticed the stark
paleness of his face and the way that the shadows cast a bluish tinge on the
hollows of his face. I also noticed that the emerald green eyes were glowing
sharply, looking almost like stained glass in a brilliance that I know they
never had possessed the last time that I had set eyes on him.
But those things didn't alarm me. Rather, they made me realize how much his
death had pained me as I had moved through the necessary paces of pushing back
the darkness that Mordor presented to the rest of Middle Earth. They just made
him more desirable to me. Made the need twice as sharp as it had ever been.
He laughed softly then as he stroked my cheek with his thumb, his eyes boring
into mine as he wrapped his body around mine and pressed me up against him, his
solid flesh making mine burn and ache with desire that hadn't been sated in much
too long a time.
It's odd, but I cannot be afraid of him. Maybe I am foolish. Or I have only
let down my guard for him, but even though I know that I should be worried about
the sudden appearance of a lover that has been dead for some time, a lover that
I buried with my own hands, I am not.
I am only saddened that I had to lose him for that time. I have missed him so
long that when he appeared to me, as real as myself, I cannot feel worry or
threatened. I can only think of how much I love him and how glad I am to have
him back with me.
"I've missed you." He looks sad when I tell him this. He strokes my face
again and presses himself even more closer to my body.
"I know." He tells me in that new voice of his. "I've missed you as well."
I open my mouth to reply, but he stops any flow of words by expertly putting
his mouth on mine and kissing me. At first, I am too shocked to respond to the
skillful teasing that his lips and tongue are undertaking to make me open my
mouth and receive him. But as his hands move lower, his fingers parting open the
silk shirt to caress my collar-bone and dip down to caress the rest of my chest
while his hips moulded themselves to mine, making my cock harden with desire so
strong that it took any reservations I had away.
Within seconds, my mouth was open and I was hungrily kissing him back with
everything I had. He was responding eagerly as he pushed me down onto the stone
floor, his hands expertly untangling both the laces and the clothing that kept
us apart from each other.
He pulled away from me only briefly as he threw his cloak over us as a cover
before he looked at me with those magnificent eyes of his.
"My king." He whispered as he licked one round nub of a nipple to hardness.
My response was to arch my back and gasp as small waves of pleasure began at
that area before slowly washing over my entire body until they settled down at
the pit of my belly, making my cock twitch impatiently.
"Soon." The word was just whispered in my mind, soothing my impatience to
have him take me and bury himself as deep as he possibly could inside of me. My
body relaxed then, letting me enjoy the sensations of him running his tongue
down my naked chest, teasing my nipples into hard nubs with his mouth before
moving down to concentrate on my cock.
My eyes flew open when his mouth enveloped my entire cock with one fluid move
that nearly made me melt into the stone floor. My hands moved to his head, where
I then tangled my fingers into his hair to brace myself against the torrent of
sensations that his mouth was forcing me to feel as it moved up and down the
shaft as his tongue then licked and pressed up against all of the sensitive
parts that made me either moan or twitch as they were touched.
It felt like nothing I had ever experienced before. Even though I hadn't been
a virgin in a very long time, his touches elicited responses from me that were
so intense and so violent that for a slight bit of time, I wondered whether he
was using some kind of magic over me to cause such reactions. But the thoughts
were quickly washed away as my body jerked and stiffened at the near onslaught
of the climax that I knew was about to erupt. Closer...Closer.
My back arched and my fingers tightened their grip on his hair. I was so
close...
The climax erupted in a blinding swirl of white that temporarily made the
world disappear for me. I could feel him moving, But I couldn't see anything.
Nor could I do anything even if I had wanted to. The climax had left me so
languorous and drained that all I wanted to do was lie there and let everything
around me collapse.
I didn't care. I had him back here with me and he was all that I needed.
I wanted to tell him that, but the words wouldn't come. My mind was getting
fuzzier the longer that I lay there and the words were floating there, but I
couldn't catch them. No matter how much I reached for them, they floated away
from me.
"I know." I heard him whisper as he moved up, trailing kisses from my groin
up to my neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses on my stomach and chest.
"You don't have to say a word." His lips were at my neck now, and his hands
were caressing my body, soft and occasionally sharp as I felt his nails
occasionally scratch up against my nipples. I sighed at the feeling, making him
laugh softly.
"There will be more," he said, his lips pressing down on my neck, his tongue
making swirls on my skin, making my entire body go almost like liquid in his
skilled hands.
I was floating away from him then. I wasn't connected to anything or anyone
at that particular time. I was just lost in a shadowy world composed of
sensations and emotions. And I didn't want to leave it. Not yet at least.
"You won't." Was what I heard before sharp teeth pierced my neck. Before it
was all black.
Legolas
I was running through the halls now, following a pulsing trail that was so
painfully hot it was burning me. I knew that it was a psychological pain, the
heat of the emotion, but it still hurt.
It was also compounded by the fear that was doubling up in me as I ran in
search of Aragorn.
I was afraid that it would be too late to save him from whatever thing had
followed him out of the banquet hall. I didn't know what it was then, but it had
the feel of a dangerous being. A being that had no place among the living.
Or among the dead. I shuddered at that unwanted thought. I didn't want to
even touch that area of possibilities. I really didn't. My race believed in
magic and dabbled in some obscure branches of reality, but the idea of having to
deal with one of those.
Even Galadriel and Elrond would have shuddered at the thought of having to
face one of them.
I wouldn't have either, but the strong feeling that Aragorn was in terrible
danger wouldn't leave me. I had to go and see if my predictions were correct. I
hardly think that Gondor would have survived not having her king at the helm
after such a long absence. Nor would Arwen. Even though she had forsaken her
mortality, I am sure that losing her husband so soon after their being married
would have dealt her a grievous blow that would probably spelled the end of her.
I was surprised to see that the trail led to a fairly unused area of the
castle. An area that had been closed off when the Steward realized his son
wasn't going to come back and had decided to burn the tower and his other son
with it.
The first three doors yielded nothing. They were just rooms with no character
or anything else to commend them, for that matter. Just rooms.
I moved on to the other side of the hallway and tried those doors. Maybe
there I would find the king and the answer to the riddle that was the shadowy
being in the banquet hall.
The door that I saw was dark wood and had a what I guessed was the White Tree
of Gondor carved into the wood of the door. Pressing my fingers on the wood, I
could sense faint stirrings of long ago emotions. Sadness. Loneliness. Fear of
darkness. Fear of failure and contempt from a highly proud father. Protection of
a loved one.
"Boromir." Now I knew why this area had been shut away. The heir of the
Steward used to live here, in this area. Aragorn had closed it off in order to
not have any reminders of the man that he was unable to love or to be with. He
couldn't bear the memories that his rooms would have brought up, or the strife
that it would have caused between himself and his queen if he had allowed
himself to seek some temporary comfort from them.
I could now see why Aragorn refused to come here. Boromir's personality, his
emotions, had deeply imprinted themselves on the inanimate objects around the
room. It would have been terribly painful if he had walked down this hall and
gotten the slight reverberations of his lover from all of the things that made
up that hallway.
I grimaced as I pushed the door open. As distasteful as I found having to go
through the belongings of a dead man, my duty came first. And I was not one to
shirk duty.
I unsheathed one of my knives and entered the room, not quite sure as to what
I would find there. What I did find made my worst fears come true. I was facing
a Wamphyr.
He, it looked like, was feeding on Aragorn, who was unconscious and lying
with his head to one side. His neck was hidden by the Wamphyr's head, which
bobbed rhythmically as it fed. Even in the dim light, I could see that it was
close to draining Aragorn, whose skin was a deathly shade of white.
The Wamphyr must have sensed me in the door way though, and it pulled itself
away from its prey with fast movements. So fast that they looked blurry even to
me.
If I had been a human, he would have killed me in the few seconds it took for
me to find the only weapon that I knew for sure would work on one of his kind.
But as an elf, all the damage that he inflicted on me was tearing my cloak
with his nails as I spun around to dodge his attack.
"Nice," the Wamphyr commented before he lunged again, confident that this
time he would score the killing stroke.
I didn't move until the last possible second, when his hands were nearly
around my throat. That was when I thrust the diamond into his face.
The scream was an unholy shriek that pierced my ears painfully. I had heard
tales that Wamphyrs screamed loudly, but I had never realized how loudly he
would scream when I showed him the diamond. I hadn't been prepared for that.
"Put it away!" The Wamphyr hissed as it cowered against Aragorn, his hands
before his face as he tried to escape the flaming light that the diamond was
emanating from his presence.
"No." I replied as I came closer to him, the gem still held in front of me
for protection.
"Legolas! Please!" I froze in my tracks. How did the Wamphyr know my name?"
He must have caught my thoughts, since he lowered his hands to let me have a
look at his face.
"No."
Part 3: Overture
"I'm frightened but I'm coming. Please baby , please lay still"
Legolas
My blood froze at the sight of his face. Even though it was slightly burned from
the light of the diamond, it was still recognizable as the face of the onetime
heir of the Steward.
That same mobile mouth, those violently green eyes, the blonde hair. It was all
there.
And it shouldn't have been.
He was a human that I had seen dead with my own eyes. I had helped to bury him.
I had sung a lament over his seemingly dead body. I had watched his body float
away into the sea.
How was it that he was standing in his old chambers, reeking of Wamphyr powers
and quivering under the light of the diamond I held in my hand?
How? Wamphyrs are never made. Only born.
"What kind of demon are you that takes the face of old friends?" I exclaimed
harshly.
"I am no demon." he tells me, his voice calm despite the pain that he must be
in. "I am only Boromir."
I shook my head. He was't Boromir. Not the Boromir I knew, at any rate.
He may have had the same features. He may have spoken with the same voice. But I
knew that it couldn't be him.
Wamphyr or Demon, he was't Boromir.
Boromir was dead. He had been dead ever since the battle at Amon Hen.
I had wept for him. My heart had broken for him and his tragedy.
"You cannot be him!"
He laughed before he pulled his hood over his head and moved so fast that I
barely had time to register that he was standing behind me.
"Why can't I?" he asked, his voice sounding almost metallic in my ears.
I swirled around, the diamond held high in my hand, making him recoil from it as
fast as if I had just thrown a bucket of boiling water over his face.
"Because he died. Because no mortal has ever been allowed to come back," I
replied as I backed away from him, the diamond held high before me to prevent
him from coming any closer.
I began to babble at this point in an effort to formulate a plan of attack. It
was unnerving to have come to this, since as a skilled fighter, I had never been
caught up in a situation like this one.
Normally, I would have had the upper hand, since as an elf, I was just
physically better than most human and orc enemies. But fighting a Whamphyr was
different than fighting either of these foes.
For one thing, they are as fast, if not faster than elves. It's true that
diamonds and sunlight can deter them, but not all of them, since there were
different ones with different abilities.
Boromir, from what I could see, had an amazing tolerance to both diamonds and
sunlight. He was also faster than he used to be when he was alive and I had a
feeling that he wasn't really up to providing a real fight. I wasn't really his
main concern. I was just a nuisance.
His focus was to drain Aragorn dry and possibly make him into an unnatural
creature like himself.
"No," his voice whispered in my head, making me clutch the diamond I held
tighter. Oh Valar! How had he entered my mind? Had I gotten that careless that I
had just let a foe enter my mind without any real battle at all?
"It was hard," Boromir told me as he pulled the hood of the cloak to hide his
face from the gem.
"Get out of my mind!" I hissed, my hand going to my knife. He laughed at me.
"What's the matter? Getting frightened, are we?" he taunted me.
"I'm not frightened of you." I told him. He looked at me skeptically.
"I can smell your fear, Prince of Mirkwood. You should know better than to lie
to a Whamphyr."
"You. Don't. Scare. ME!" I yelled out, lashing out with my knife before I even
thought about it.
I was betting on slashing up his face with that attack. I had used it before on
numerous foes and it had worked extremely well to my advantage.
"You really are new at dealing with Whamphyrs, aren't you?"
Boromir asked when I found my arms held behind my back and his mouth right next
to my neck.
How had it happened? How had I been so blind-sided that I missed being able to
defend myself?
I had attacked him with the knife, but I hadn't been lucky enough to strike at
flesh. Instead, I had just cut a large rent in his cloak as it was hurled at me.
I must have gotten tangled in it. That had to be it. Otherwise, how had he
managed to take my knife and diamond away?
He laughed at my questions as I frantically began to struggle against him. It
was true that he had captured me, but I wasn't about to become his next meal. Or
worse, his pet.
I had heard of the pets that they had made of humans or elves. They would not
only drain the blood from their bodies, but also their wills and memories and
sometimes even minds, making them these servants that are only concerned with
either filling the Whamphyr's bed or their bodies with fresh blood.
"I would never do that to you, Prince." He assured me smoothly as he tightened
his grip on my arms until I could hear my joints scream in protest.
"I would never make you that kind of pet. Your mind is too good to waste in such
a manner."
I swallowed hard. "What are you planning to do with me?"
He laughed softly as he then cleaved his body against mine and running his long
tongue down my throat.
"If you had left and not pulled out that diamond, I would have just taken
Aragorn and left. But the fact that you had to come in and ruin the first
reunion I have had with my lover in years has kind of made me want to make your
long life a bit miserable."
I shuddered. If he wasn't going to make me a pet, then what was he going to do
to me? Kill me?
"You are quite eager to find out what I'm going to do to you, aren't you, my
little prince."
He laughed when he called me this. If I hadn't been so scared and trapped, I
would have laughed at the irony. Me? A little prince?
"You are. Well, at least to me." He licked my throat again, making me shudder.
"I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. Well...not that badly."
I struggled against his grip, but it was as futile as a rabbit struggling in the
grip of a wolf.
"It's over," he whispered before he placed his mouth over the throbbing pulse at
my neck.
I didn't think it would feel that way. I had been raised to believe that the
bite of a Whamphyr was a painful thing, like getting stabbed with a dull knife.
But it wasn't. It was ratheräpleasant. Just like a deep kiss with a small hint
of pain at its edge. The kind of kiss that is not noticed until after the
frenetic lovemaking is over and you are aware enough to take stock of the
situation around you.
The kind of kiss that sweeps you away into a pool of blackness that is so deep
and thick, you are simply swallowed whole by it.
Boromir
His blood was sweet. Intoxicating. Like the first wines of fall. Crisp and
delicious, I drank as deeply as I dared, nearly draining him in my desire to
drink more of that sweet, light taste.
I pulled away though, before I could drain him dry. Even though elves can't die,
they can be seriously harmed if they loose too much blood. Legolas had
interfered in my affairs and had caused me serious injury, but I didn't have the
heart to either destroy him by making my pet, or killing him for his audacity.
I didn't mean any harm, when I had first arrived. I had only wanted to posses
Aragorn one last time and then be on my way. I knew that I could never steal him
away from the city that had waited so long for the king to return. I loved him,
but I knew where his duties lay. He was also human, and that was enough to keep
us apart from each other for as long as he lived.
After I had put Legolas on the ground, I bit my tongue and gave the wound a soft
lick, making sure that some of my blood would get onto the marks. Elves did heal
faster than other races, but even they would have a hard time healing the bite
of a Whamphyr without some intervention.
Once the blood had touched the flesh, it knitted instantly, leaving only faint
scars in its wake. After that task was done, I turned to Aragorn, who was lying
where I had left him. Contrary to whatever Legolas might have been thinking,
Aragorn was nowhere near death when he came in and rudely interrupted me. It was
true I had fed quite well at the neck of the king, but I hadn't drained so much
that he would have died without timely prevention.
I knelt next to him and took a long, careful look at his face, making sure that
I remembered every single detail, every single feature on it. From the small
lines at the corners of his eyes to the scar on his upper lip, I wanted to etch
them forever in my memory.
I inhaled the fresh scent of his hair, touched the calloused hands before I laid
a kiss on his brow, just like the one he had given me those years ago.
It was time for me to leave him now.
I would return to him. Only once more. And that would be before his death. And
then, it would be to give him that choice to stay with me forever.
I had just pulled away from him when he stirred in his stupor.
"Boromir," he breathed out as his hand feebly reached out for me before it fell
onto the stone floor once again.
Seeing that made my resolution crumble.
I couldn't leave him now. Even though I knew my path was clear.
"Aragorn, my precious king." I whispered those words before I gathered him into
my arms.
I kissed his forehead, I kissed his eyelids, I kissed his lips right before I
then reached out and bit my wrist until the blood welled up, dark and thick, on
the wound.
"Forgive me, Valar. Forgive me."
by Jim Morrison
Prologue
"This is how the lucky feel
How the blessed think
Like daybreak in spring
The sun on a spring morning
But how do I feel
In my gloomy depths?
Like the flat brink of a cloud
Like a dark night in autumn
A black winter day
No, darker than that
Gloomier than an autumn night"
—Amorphis, "Black Winter's Day"
he coronation of a king should be a
joyous situation. Everyone should be glad
that a new era has started. Everyone should look forward to a long reign filled
with prosperity and peace.
I taste the embrace,
Helpless as it steals my
soul, I've lost all control
—The Tea Party
—Tea Party
