Disclaimer, Summary and Warning could be finding in 1st chapter.
Beta: Aranel
Chapter 3: Holding Back the Flood…
Little Eldarion crawled as close as he could toward his uncle, the elf whom he respected and loved so much.
"Eldarion, my son," Arwen called in fear as she watched the chains holding her son back. The boy was nonetheless trying to reach Legolas. "He will be all right," she tried to assure him.
"But nana… why does he not answer me?" Eldarion asked, his voice shaky.
As the boy turned, Arwen could see the streaks of tears down his face – tears of fear and worry – but there was nothing she could do. Wearily, she turned to look at her friend's battered body, stained with his own blood. Could she even hold hope for him to survive another day?
"He is very hurt, my son," Arwen replied, trying to put aside those other thoughts in spite of the overpowering smell of blood, and she added, "I hope he'll recover soon and he will answer you then, my sweet boy."
"Nana, but there is so much blood leaving his body…" Eldarion told her worriedly. Even at his age, he knew what the smell of blood meant and truly feared that his dear uncle was lying on the floor, dead.
"No… please…" Legolas' lips parted in a hoarse whisper but Arwen knew he had not left the engulfing darkness.
"Nana?" Eldarion asked his mother with fear in his voice, his body trembling in fear of his uncle was going through.
"He is having nightmares just like you sometimes do," Arwen told him, veering on a lie in the hope that her son would be spared the pain.
"Nana," Eldarion asked pleaded in his eyes, "Is it going to be ending soon?"
"I do not know my son; it all depends on your adar," Arwen replied.
"But adar hates me…" Eldarion tried to cover his eyes but to no avail for the chains pulled his hands away. He turned to face his nana again, "Why is adar acting so mean to us? What did we do to make him hate us so much?"
"You did not do anything, my precious son," Arwen replied, not wishing that he feel it was his fault, and then she added, "I believe that something took over your adar's soul and heart, but I do not know what is the cause behind his acts."
A crack sounded and they turned their heads toward the heavy door. A strong sheen of light lit up the room for a moment and then the door was shut.
The king entered the room with his guards behind him; the guards were watching apprehensively what the king did to their beloved queen and prince - and even Lord Legolas from Ithilien. They knew that they should do something, but if King Elessar found out, he would certainly kill them personally, sparing no mercy. The guards could only endure this trapped situation they found themselves in and wish that somehow help would come. But they, too, knew that with Legolas caught, their hope was fading slowly with each the end of each day.
Elessar walked toward the boy with a cruel smile on his face. As Arwen saw her husband walking toward her precious, she feared for the first time that Aragorn would indeed kill him.
"Please… my king…" Arwen begged, not fearing any shame as the tears fell freely from her eyes, "Do not hurt our son, please…"
Elessar took another step forward, to the boy, and the smile on his face widened as another voice called to him from the shadows, "If you want… to hurt… someone… you should… hurt me… instead of them… just do not… hurt the boy… I will do anything… please…"
"Are you asking to get hurt, elf?" Elessar turned from the boy, walking toward the still bleeding elf. His feet conveniently nudged his wounds, eliciting a not too muffled moan of pain.
Legolas swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting against the pain, before he managed weakly, "I only ask you… not to hurt the boy…"
The king bent over beside the injured elf as he viciously retrieved the dagger hidden in his sleeve. He moved it, in a measured manner, toward the elf's battered back. With an almost careful, deliberate stroke, he sliced Legolas's back, adding another scar on the pale body.
Arwen's breath caught as she heard her friend scream hoarsely. Painful thoughts flashed before her mind and she feared for his life. He had to be strong, he had to… She made herself release her breath but there was nothing she could do but look on in horror as the blade caught the light of the sun and revealed itself to be dripping with blood.
She did not know what happened next but her husband – no, was he still the one she called husband? – but he must have left. She could still see the drops of elven blood on the cold floor, dripping from the dagger – even though the room had fallen dark again. Arwen sobbed, her resolve to remain strong for her son shattering.
"Legolas?" she called. But there was only the faint echo in the room, nothing more.
"Legolas…" she called again. The name rang softly in the room but the elf did not respond to his name.
"Nana…" Eldarion's voice had a slight tremor.
"What is it, my son?" Arwen asked him, brushing her tears away. For now, she yearned for nothing but to reach her son and hold him tight, never ever letting go of the precious boy.
It was a while before Eldarion swallowed and choked out his question, "Is…is Uncle Legolas… dead?"
End of Chapter 3.
