Behind the Shadow of the Soul - Prologue: It is All Over
The saddest are these: 'It might have been!'"
There is a sound in my head, just as if an army of dwarves was walking on my skull, jumping in rhythm.
'One. Two. Three.'
The place is dark. Darker than the deeps of the Moria. Darker than Mordor itself. I don't know where I am. The only thing I'm aware of is that I wish to be dead.
'One. Two. Three.'
How long now since I entered this cave? Hours? Days? Months? Or maybe years? I have no idea. Truly.
'One. Two. Three.'
It's strange; I can't feel my body anymore. But it's better like that. I don't feel pain. The only thing I'm conscious of is my head banging on the stone wall, in rhythm with its thrusts.
'One. Two. Three.'
This perpetual knock on the top on my skull is very unpleasant. I wish I could feel nothing at all. I wish to be a golden bird, free to fly to you, to whisper sweet words in your ear. But I cannot and I will never be a bird. So, I wish to be dead, to escape from this place, from these...things.
'One. Two. Three.'
Honestly, I thought I would have died. It's a common thing to say that abused elves do not linger on Arda. Well. Maybe it was just a tale. I never saw anyone coming from Mandos Halls to explain me in details how long it takes for an elven spirit to leave its body. Never.
'One. Two. Three.'
I am a dead corpse with a very alive spirit. It's disturbing. Very disturbing. I wish I could also stop thinking. Because my heart becomes very painful when I think of you. Because I will never be able to see you again. Because the last words I have spoken to you were harsh, and I didn't mean them.
'One. Two. Three.'
Because I love you and I will never be able to touch you again.
'One. Two. Three.'
If my father could see me here and now.
'One. Two. Three.'
Sweet Elbereth, I cannot imagine how horrified he would be. His son fucked in a cave, his hands bound, covered by blood. And, horror of horrors, fucked by...that. It's absolutely not regal. Once, before being a dead corpse with a very alive wit, I was a prince of Mirkwood, third son of King Thranduil, himself son of Oropher, the one who died in the war against Sauron many millennia ago.
'One. Two. Three.'
If one could see me now, they would never guess that I was once a creature of light and nature, and that many people thought me to be one of the most beautiful beings that have ever walked on Arda. I can't blame the ones who do not guess. There is no part of me left untouched. My skin, once pale and glowing, is covered by bruises, scratches, blood and dirt. Well. At least, where my skin remains.
'One. Two. Three.'
I would laugh if I could.
'One. Two. Three.'
The ropes, which bound my wrists, are tearing up my flesh with horrible noises of rubbing. I know that, if I could feel anything else than this unnerving knock, I would feel blood dripping down the length of my arms. Sometimes, the groans of the foul beast on the top of me reach my ears.
'One. Two. Three.'
I wish to be dead, but I'm not. Is it normal?
'One. Two. Three.' I can do nothing to defend myself. My body didn't even respond to me when the first one forced himself upon me. I felt his hard cock enter me in a harsh thrust. I felt the pain invade my very being, chasing the air from my lungs, tearing me into tiny pieces. I saw the world becoming a single little red point dancing in front of my eyes. I felt the urge to scream but no sound came from my dried throat. Then, I couldn't see anymore, I couldn't feel anymore. Except for my head banging on the wall.
'One. Two. Three.'
I'm still there. I can still hear some noises. But they seem to be very, very far from me. Or maybe, I am very, very far from my body, floating above all of those present in that place. It's an odd feeling. I am somewhere, but I don't know where. I'm not alive. I'm not dead. The only word that comes to my mind now is: strange. Disconcerting, also.
'One. Two. Three.'
I am going to die. A part of me wants to embrace this fate with joy as a release. But another part doesn't want to. It wants to see you one last time, to tell you those words I didn't dare to say to you.
'One. Two. Three.'
A part of me doesn't want to die and won't accept the fatality of that death. A part of me still hopes that this scene is only a horrible nightmare, and that you would wake me up and comfort me with kisses.
'One. Two. Three.'
The other part of me doesn't want you to find me like this. It doesn't want you to have this image in your eyes when you think of me. It prefers to know that you will hate me forever for what I told you before leaving, rather than pitying me.
'One. Two. Three.'
I don't want you to see me in pain. I don't want you to see my battered and bloody body. I don't want you to remember me as a broken corpse and a violated soul. So much different than when we met.
'One. Two. Three.'
Do you remember the first time we met, my love? I was a messenger for my father. I came to Imladris to deliver an urgent message to the lord of this realm, your father. I had met some orcs, and even though they were not very skilful and I had managed to kill all of them, I was injured. Not a big injury, merely a deep gash on my upper arm, but your father, Lord Elrond, ordered me to stay there until healed. A servant led me to the Last Homely House, the part of house where wounded are taken care of. That's where our paths crossed for the first time.
'One. Two. Three.'
Do you remember it, my love ? You were lying on a bed, your brother sitting next to you. I will never forget your gaze upon me. Your eyes. Most people say that it's impossible to distinguish one Peredhel twin from the other. But even at this first sight, I have seen how mistaken they were. Your eyes were different. In them burnt a fire that did not exist in your brother's, and I was trapped by it. The world didn't exist anymore. Only the heat spreading in my whole body mattered. I was drowning myself in your gaze and I think I could have died at that moment if one of the healers had not broken the spell.
'One. Two. Three.'
Do you remember? I have loved you since that very moment.
'One. Two. Three.'
The foul beast has left; my head doesn't bang on the wall anymore. Silence. But I know it won't be long until another takes its place.
'One. Two. Three.'
What was I saying? Not long.
'One. Two. Three.'
I wish I could kill them for what they have done. I wish to hear their screams, just as they have heard mine. But I am not stupid. And I know I will soon join my mother in Mandos Halls. The sounds are fading away from me. It may be that my senses are becoming dull.
'One. Two. Three.'
I won't be long. It must not.
'One. Two. Three.'
I'm sad to give up so easily. I'm sad because you will never know how much I loved you. I'm sad because I never said I love you. People call this regret.
'One. Two. Three.'
We became friends. Not matter when, no matter how. We became friends. I often came to bring my king's message to your father. You often did the same. One of those nights I spent in the vale, we became lovers. It doesn't matter when, it doesn't matter how. We became lovers.
'One. Two. Three.'
We were lying on the grass of your father's private gardens, gazing at the stars in the sky, speaking of old legends and of old tales. I don't why, I don't know how, but at one moment, we were staring at each other, our breaths quickened. And then, we kissed. For the first time. Our lips met each other's. For the first time. Our fingers twinned. For the first time. Our tongues played together. For the first time. Do you remember?
'One. Two. Three.'
Do you remember the polite cough that ended that first kiss? Do you remember your father's impassive features when he advised us to continue this conversation in one of our rooms? At that very moment you were of an interesting shade of red.
'One. Two. Three.'
I never told you how important you were to me. When we made love, you would whisper sweet words in my ear. But I, never. I only cried your name when I was at the edge of pleasure. Each time, it was a victory, a way to inform the whole world that, you, Elrohir Peredhel, were mine and mine only. And you never asked for more.
'One. Two. Three.'
I know what you must be thinking now. I never said to you how much I loved you and I know that after our last discussion, you believe I had you for the fun. But it's not true. It's not true.
'One. Two. Three.'
I know I hurt you every time I didn't answer your words of love. I saw it in the depths of your eyes. Each time the silence echoed your murmurs, shadows of pain were floating in them.
'One. Two. Three.'
Not so long ago, a message came from Mirkwood. I don't know how, but my father had learnt about us. No need to say that he was not delighted. He ordered me to come back home. He didn't understand love between two males. And you, you didn't understand his reaction. I tried to explain to you that all fathers were not as understanding as yours. Your father had loved Gil- Galahad; mine thought that a prince should marry a maiden and breed a lot of children. But you still did not understand, did you?
'One. Two. Three.' I was torn between two loyalties. Between a father that never understood me, and a lover that I couldn't stop hurting. But I was a prince of Mirkwood before being your Greenleaf. The choice was not mine to make. So, I left. You didn't understand, did you?
'One. Two. Three.'
You didn't understand and we spoke words that hurt. We said things that we didn't mean. We denied all that was ours, we denied ourselves and our unspoken love. I will never forgive myself for aiming at your heart words that strike as sharpened arrows. I saw how you tried not to let your tears run. Your eyes were as many blades in my chest when I left.
'One. Two. Three.'
I left, without looking at you one last time, without telling you that I loved you more than life itself, without knowing that it would be the last time I ever saw you.
'One. Two. Three.'
I wish you could forgive me one day. I love you. I love you so much.
'One. Two. Three.'
I didn't dare to tell you my feelings because I was afraid to lose myself in you. My father had deeply loved my mother. You know, he was not always the bitter elf he is now. Once he was loving and patient. But when my mother died, this part of him disappeared. I refused to let anyone approach because I was afraid to become like him. I was afraid that, if one day you would leave me, you would destroy me. How wrong I was.
'One. Two. Three.'
I would laugh if I could. Am I going mad?
'One. Two. Three.'
It may be better like that. If you hate me, you won't grieve too much. I know I'm lying. Even if I hurt you, you would not stop loving me. I have seen it in your eyes, hidden behind the shadows. Your eyes were to me as an opened window on your soul. They didn't know how to lie.
'One. Two. Three.'
Yes, it's better this way. When you will think of me, you won't see what I have become. You won't see me as a pitiful and weak creature. I hate what they have done to me. They surprised me in the forest. They were too many, I tried too fight, but was soon overwhelmed. When the darkness took me, one single thought was in my mind: I had failed those I loved. Failed my father, failed you.
'One. Two. Three.'
I thought I was dead, but then I woke up in this dark place, full of shadows and cries. I thought I was dead, but I was not. I would rather be. The dark beasts have not only taken my body, but they have also taken my pride, my soul. I had screamed and asked them to stop. I tried to endure. But I couldn't. I tried to be strong, in memory of those who had suffered in their hands, but I was not. I cried and I have never felt so ashamed.
'One. Two. Three.'
The bite of their whips was as if thousands of snakes were on me at the same moment. My body was not mine anymore, it belonged to someone else. Whispers escaped my lips before I could hold them back, then groans came from my throat. When I screamed for the first time, I didn't know it was me who was yelling. I didn't recognize my own voice. To me, it was the sound of a mad animal.
'One. Two. Three.'
Who could know that in this place, even the air burns your lungs? Who could know that the teethes of orcs in elven flesh are like a poison in your whole body? Who could know that when they use their iron brand, orcs are like babies with new toys; they can never get enough. They did things I would never think possible. I discovered resistance to a pain that runs through all your body. I discovered that suffering could be overwhelming and exquisite. That when you had reached a certain level, nothing mattered.
'One. Two. Three.'
I don't want you to see me like this. I don't want you to remember me as the one who used you for his own pleasure. I want you to remember me in the sweet moments we shared. Remember the first time we made love. Remember how you loved my fingers on your skin, my lips on yours, my body next to yours. Remember how you craved my touch. Remember the groans you made when I was playing with your body, as a musician with his instrument, my mouth on your elfhood, like his fingers on the strings.
'One. Two. Three.'
Remember when you woke up in my arms, when you listened to my heartbeat, like to the most beautiful music. Remember the laughs and forget the tears. Remember what is worth to be remembered.
'One. Two. Three.'
But I know you can't hear me, just as I can't hear anything now. If I could go back in time and make other choices, I would. If I could just tell you how much I loved you, my death would be less bitter.
'One. Two. Three.'
The end is approaching. I know I should have no regrets, but it's too late. Maybe we will meet again and have another chance. Perhaps Mandos will be merciful.
'One. Two. Three.'
I'm floating in a silent universe, where nothing reaches my senses. It will soon be over. My love, my sweet love. If I could tell you. But it's all over now. It's all over. It's all over.
Next: Some days in your life
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