Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Legolas sat on the bathroom floor with a pouch of bandages and gauze to his left and a bloodied knife to his right. The cold marble floor burned his bare thighs as he leaned again the stone wall. His mind was blank, his thoughts nothing as he sat there silently, empty tears cascaded down his pale face but he felt nothing but the stinging lines on his legs.

He didn't usually cut his thighs but last night's episode made it so any contact he tried to initiate between a blade and his wrist hurt so much he almost gagged. It just hurt. He tried to avoid hurting his thighs because he would always get carried away. Telling himself just one more. No one can see. Just one more. Next thing he knew he would be on the verge of passing out on the bathroom floor with blood trickling down his legs, a stained blade by his side and an agonizing desire to write a note for Gimli to tell him his death wasn't the dwarf's fault. Unfortunately for Legolas he was too weak to do so.

At home he would have just called on Tauriel who would have given him a stern telling off and patched him up but he was at a hotel this week with Aragorn for a meeting who would undoubtedly tell Gimli of his self-mutilation. As much as he hated it, he knew he would need help. As much as he would love to let himself bleed out he knew he couldn't do that. Not only because the wounds, deep as they were, were not enough to kill him but also to do that to his friends, to his husband. Make Aragorn come back to his best friend already gone, to have Gimli receive a call about his cowardice so he picked up his phone and called Aragorn.

It rang for the longest six seconds of his life but Aragorn picked up.

"Hey, Legolas. I was just about to call you to ask what you want from McDonald's." came the voice Legolas could barely register from his phone speaker. He found himself struggling to respond. He was delirious and only managed out a quiet response

"Fuck McDonald's. I need you here" his voice was strained and heavy with tears.

"Legolas? Are you okay? What's happening" Aragorn asked, slightly panicked but this time Legolas could not respond. He wanted to scream, to yell out and curse the world, to punch the walls but he couldn't move. He was in too much pain, too tired, too much blood lost. He sat silently for the next ten minutes, waiting.

Finally the door opened and Aragorn came into the bathroom "Legolas?! What the hell did you do?!" Aragorn cried at the sight of Legolas sat weakly in a hoodie and boxers, his thighs cut up with deep gashes and scratches scattered around like an asymmetrical zebra. He knelt beside Legolas and wrapped his arms around his friend. "I'm here. It's okay..." he whispered. He lifted Legolas in his arms and carried him into the living room, laying him down on the couch. He grabbed the pouch of bandages from the bathroom an came back, cleaning and wrapping the wounds silently. Once he had finished, he sat Legolas up and looked into his eyes.

"Just.. Go to sleep and we can talk when you're up. Okay?" he said before standing up and going to the kitchen, exhausted from the discovery.

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As Legolas slept, Aragorn thought of his plan of action. Surely the best thing he could do was call Gimli and tell him what had happened but he knew for a fact Legolas would be upset with him if he did. He weighed his options, have a grumpy elf and a worried dwarf or keep it to himself and just keep an eye on Legolas until he could get him home and then get him the help he needs. Although Gimli would be upset he hadn't been informed sooner.

After a long while of contemplation and a cup of coffee, Aragorn decided to prioritise keeping Legolas safe and happy for the time being and wait to tell Gimli to avoid any unwanted fuss. He put his empty mug in the sink before heading back off to the living room where Legolas was sleeping on the couch, snoring lightly. Checking the clock, Aragorn saw it had been about a half hour since he had wrapped and disinfected the wounds so he set a five hour timer for when he would change them again.

The next thought he had was checking Legolas for any other wounds. He was no stranger to self injury, having had a few friends suffer and recover through it. This helped him know what a slim chance it was that his elven friend had only cut at his thighs so he sat beside him and lifted off his jumper. Under the cotton sleeves were more scars. These were scabbed over, some looking only a day old whereas others were weeks, months, years old. The sight was nothing less than horrific. Messy and rigid lines looking like a child's first attempt at cutting cardboard with safety scissors. Still, he knew he couldn't leave them untended to so with a heavy heart he picked up the gauze and washed off the bloody, red marks before wrapping them in it.

Once he was sure Legolas was fully patched up and tended to, he helped his sleeping friend out of his binder, put him in some softer clothes and carried him to his designated bed. He knew he would need to be cautious with this as such a sensitive topic brought up in the wrong way could make everything worse

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Legolas woke to the warmth of the sun on his face. He opened his sore eyes and stretched, groaning softly as he did so. He looked down at his sleeves, feeling something off and rolled them up, humiliation and anxiety washing over him like a tsunami when he realised Aragorn must have bandaged him up. He felt sore and numb. His arms, although stinging pleasantly, were bothering him and the feeling of his hair on his back was making him want to rip the skin off. He looked around the room for a hair tie, seeing none and knowing even if he found one, getting up at retrieve it and using his sore wrists to use it were both impossible tasks. Overwhelmed, Legolas flapped his hands and trembled, just wanting to feel okay and not caring about his physical pain. He grabbed his long golden locks and held it in his fists, bothered and itchy and now crying. He felt weak and tired. He wanted to go back to sleep but he was tingling. He wanted Gimli.

His hands trembled and he gave up on holding his hair up as his wrists began to ache. Sobbing, he acted rashly as usual and grabbed his scissors, cutting his hair just below his shoulders messily. He didn't even care about the mess he had made of it. He was just glad to be rid of it. He stayed sat like that, arms wrapped around his knees and feet trembling until Aragorn walked in, kneeling beside his elven friend. Aragorn tied up what he could of the remainder of Legolas's tresses.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked and his friend looked into his eyes. "Legolas what can I do?" The man asked. Legolas, unable to speak, just shook his head, overwhelmed and exhausted. Aragorn sighed and Legolas gave him an apologetic look, signing out "sorry" with his hands. Aragorn put his hand on his friend's shoulder "There is nothing to be sorry for." he said although Legolas was not fully convinced.

The two sat in silence for a while before Aragorn once again broke the silence "I'm going to go make you some soup and then I'm going to call up a hairdresser who can even that out for you. That sound okay?" The man asked sweetly and Legolas nodded, too guilt-ridden to refuse anything his friend offered him. Aragorn stood up and left the room, taking the scissors with him. While he waited for the soup to cook Aragorn gathered up anything sharp he could find and put them in his suitcase, padlocking it just to make sure. He heard the timer for the chicken soup go off and he dumped the pan's content into a bowl and headed back into Legolas's room, handing him the plate and taking out his phone.

"Hannon le" Legolas thanked his friend, taking the bowl to his mouth and sipping "It's good.... Are you going to tell Gim?" The elf asked in a more serious tone.
"At some point, yes" Aragorn replied sternly "but first I need you to explain to me what that was." Aragorn's voice was colder than he meant but it got the point across and Legolas bowed his head, finishing the food.

Aragorn went into the Hotel corridor and called up a barber shop that was nearby, setting an appointment for three hours later, *just enough time to talk through at least a little bit of this with the elf* Aragorn thought to himself as he went back inside the room.
"Can you walk?" He asked Legolas in a more kind tone
"One leg is alright but the other hurts too much to put too much weight on" Legolas said just as quietly although a little bit more confidently.
"You're going to have to use your crutches" Aragorn said causing Legolas to pout "I know you hate it but there isn't much of a choice" He said.
"Fine...." Legolas mumbled, acting more like a pouting child than an elven noble

The two sat in silence for a little while before Aragorn spoke in a less confident voice "We need to talk about this" He said, looking down "I don't even understand how you could do this to yourself" He continued
"Are you mad?" Asked Legolas, suddenly feeling shy and vulnerable.
"Not mad... worried and confused, absolutely but never mad." He was reassured "And I would like to know some things. Is it alright if I ask some questions?" Aragorn asked and Legolas just nodded, too anxious to speak just yet.

Aragorn crossed his legs over and looked Legolas dead in the eye "when did this whole thing start?" He asked
"I believe around two and a half years ago." Legolas answered quietly, looking down to avoid the ranger's eyes.
"why?"

The question was so simple and so was the answer. Just one sentence was enough to explain it but it felt like it would make no sense. Like no matter how he put it, Aragorn wouldn't understand, no one would.

"It started because of the fire..."

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Hi guys!!! I promise I'm writing. I just have school to get through making this a little bit difficult. I'm going to try get the next chapter by the end of the week but I can't be sure <3

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"Dinners almost ready!" Oropher called from the kitchen.
"Alright, dad!" Thranduil said back from the living room.

"God fu- Legolas? How do you pu on the- the thing?" the elvenking asked, unaccustomed to modern television.
"Here." Legolas said, clicking onto the new years Countdown, two hours, ten minutes, thirty seconds.

Aragorn came downstairs, little Tauriel on his shoulders. "She's barely awake" he said as he helped the six year old elf down. "I'm awake enuff!!" she complained stroppily.

Oropher came out into the living room holding a tray of food, placing it down and going back for another. "Dig in then." he said, handing out plates. Everyone sat down and ate as they talked, watching the timer. Tauriel fell asleep all too quickly and ended up on her big brother's (Legolas) lap. She seemed comfy but Legolas took her upstairs into her room regardless. He came down again after tucking her in and kissing her brow to say goodnight. He sat down but this time, sprawled across Gimli's lap. "She's out" he said to everyone, grinning at gloin who was glaring at him.

Thranduil stood up and in doing so, knocked off a candle onto the carpet. He didn't notice until he saw the flames spreading on the curtain "shit!" everyone stood up, Legolas ran to grab a bucket of water but it wasn't enough, the flames were spreading. It didn't take long for the rest of the carpet so catch and the room was humid and smokey before anyone even got the chance to stand. Legolas was choking and then screaming.

"Dad!!" he yelled as a flaming plank fell from the ceiling and hit his father, blood staining the carpet. "EVERYONE OUT" Oropher cried and was so distracted getting the humans and dwarves (plus Arwen) out that he didn't notice Legolas running upstairs. Gimli heard a scream from upstairs followed by an agonised "No!!" , running up to drag a sobbing Legolas away from the already suffocated child "No! Taurie!" He cried in a gruttal and cracking voice.

Once Gimli had gotten his elven husband out, he looked around in the chill air, the house behind him in flames and now missing Tauriel, Celebrian and Thranduil from the group, then noticing Oropher was not there either, nor was Elledan. Legolas was silent, sobbing but making no sound in Gimli's arms.