Chapter 10 – Like a Cloud

Legolas felt his cheeks burn as a large crowd formed around him. Days had come and gone since he had first arrived in Imladris. Each time he had out ventured to the archery range the crowd which gathered around him seemed to grow significantly in size. He reveled at the familiar feeling of his bow between his hands, thankful Lord Elrond granted him full access to the archery ranges. Legolas inhaled deeply and focused all of his attention onto the target, determined not to allow the unwanted crowd to distract him. With admirable speed he knocked and shot his third arrow, watching as it effortlessly hit its mark.

Relaxing his posture Legolas turned away from the target, deciding to prematurely end this training session. The crowd was too much. This was no festive competition; this was practice. Praise should be given where it was due, and Legolas had done nothing to earn such a crowd. Clenching his hands, he quickly gathered his arrows. To him, this was no game.

As he left his eyes inadvertently locked with the sneering glare of Rhíwion. Those grey eyes were filled with such malice and contempt, Legolas quickly turned turned away, feeling as though the strings of his heart had been pulled and twisted into a giant fearsome knot. Why did Rhíwion scorn him so? Uncomfortable quickened his pace with a renewed effort and nearly fell to the ground with a yelp as he walked straight into a hard massive barrier. He felt a pair of strong hands steady him. Averting his gaze, Legolas muttered a half-hearted apology, all the more eager to leave.

"Legolas, pen-neth," the elf said.

Legolas looked up, his features softened as he offered a shy smile. "Gildor."

Gildor's eyes sparkled in mirth. "You have an impressive shot. I am disappointed I cannot witness more. Why do you leave?"

"I am unused to such a crowd when practicing. Normally tis only my father and a few other warriors."

"They are curious," Gildor said. "Over the years many rumors have surfaced over the quality of the Woodland Archers."

Legolas clenched his fists. Quality? Did those in Imladris think less of his people?

"You have far exceeded them," Gildor continued. "You are a child of the Woodland Realm and have good shot for one of such a young age. You could only imagine what one would think of a seasoned Woodland Archer after your display."

A sense of pride surged through Legolas as he smiled brilliantly.

"Aye," he eagerly agreed. "The skill of my father's archers far exceeds that of my own. I am nothing by comparison."

"I would not say nothing. You are far more than anyone here has yet expected. Which brings me to my question," Gildor said. "My comrades and I, will take leave for a hunt on the morrow, you are welcome to join us."

Legolas paled, completely caught off guard. "I – um, I do not know if Lord Elrond would allow it," he stuttered.

"I have already spoken to Lord Elrond, he has agreed."

Legoals' cheeks burned, they had been talking about him behind his back. Searching for an excuse, Legolas' eyes frantically darted around. His palms grew sweaty.

"I- there is much of Imladris my heart is still eager to see," Legolas said. " I do not wish to part from the flowing falls just yet."

"We would not been going far, nor gone long. I suspect a couple nights at most."

"I am sorry, I-I cannot," he whispered, before turning away, and quickly heading back towards to the main house.

He did not miss the look of disappointment on Gildor's face as he left the older elf standing there alone. His heart fell, he hated his. Legolas hoped he had not lost Gildor's friendship. But nobody here understood. Legolas could not take part in another hunt. Not yet. It was still too soon.

Entering his chamber, Legolas quickly closed the door behind him, relieved to finally be alone. He carefully placed his bow against the wall in the corner of the room, before seating himself down preparing to check and repair any damaged arrows.

The soft tumbling of the falls sang behind him as the peacefulness of Imladris surrounded him. It had only been a few weeks since he had arrived here. He could not yet gotten used to how different things were from his home. It was strange not needing to carry a weapon to go within the woods. Everyone here was so carefree and happy, separated from the rest of the world. Legolas found it strange; few elves lived in Imladris, no more than a couple hundred. So different from the thousands alone, residing in his father large underground halls. Not to mention the hundreds of tiny settlements and homesteads located within the northern realm of those refusing to live underground.

In Imladris, even their measurement of time was different. In the Woodland Realm, time was measured by the sun's position in the sky and through the cycles of the moon. In Imladris they measured time by months, a collection of a seemingly arbitrary number of days. His father had of course taught him the basics, but Legolas had never had to use such terms in practice or conversation before. The tiny differences of their two worlds befuddled him.

Their two cultures were just so different. In Imladris, the halls and walls were covered in paintings; fine jewels and treasures were out on display. Legolas had even stumbled upon a room showing murals of a great battle, where a sword broken into many fragments lay upon a pedestal beneath it. When he had asked Lord Elrond about it, he been told it was of a great battle, the Battle of Dagorlad at the end of the Second Age. Legolas was immensely curious, for his father would not speak of such a time, saying one must worry about the present and the future, the past is behind us. In the Woodland Realm, such jewels, treasures and tales were locked away in his father's great treasury, holding little interest to the Silvan, say for the Masters of Lore, which were few and far between.

Everything was just so different. Legolas wondered what his people would think of Imladris were they ever to come. He laughed to himself at the thought. No, the Silvan had no desire to leave the forest, and only at their king's bidding they would. Legolas sighed to himself, feeling suddenly very lonely. He missed his father terribly.

A soft knock from his door lightly echoed through the room. Legolas looked up as Lord Elrond entered.

"I was hoping to find you here," Elrond said with a smile. "Gildor had said you seemed unsettled, is all well?"

"I fear I may have insulted him," Legolas said, his voice wavering slightly.

"He is nothing of that sort. Legolas, you are a guest of Imladris, you do not have to do anything you do not wish to. Do not feel as though you should. No one here will hold you in disregard."

Legolas nodded, his hearth lightened at Elrond's words.

"Thank you, my Lord," he said.

"Now," Elrond said, changing his tone. "I had hoped you would be willing to join me on a berry picking excursion. I have just been informed that many have ripened, our Head Chef is most eager to use them in her future baking endeavors but is unwilling to take leave of her duties just yet. Would you care to join me?"

"Pick berries?" Legolas repeated dumfounded.

Elrond laughed seeing the skeptical look on the young one's face.

Lord Elrond did the cook's bidding? The thought did not seem right, for such a famous and powerful elf to spend a spring afternoon picking berries. There was no elegance in such a medial task. Only warriors did such a thing, when animals couldn't be found for food. His father would never have the time for such a trivial activity. Legolas had the faintest of memories of a beautiful maiden, taking his hand and singing to him at the berry patches, but that was long ago, Legolas pushed those thoughts aside.

"Yes, pick berries," Lord Elrond confirmed. "It is often the most simple of tasks that can give us the most joy."

Elrond smiled ruefully. "It is something Elrohir has often enjoyed."

Legolas' heart jumped. "Perhaps I could join you."

Before hours end, as sun had reached its high point in the sky, Legolas found himself with purple stained fingers sitting amongst the berry patches next to Lord Elrond.

Elrond watched Legolas with a smile; the youth was adjusting nicely to the relaxed Imladris lifestyle. Though he was quiet and little more hesitant than Elrond has wished, Legolas was definitely a joy to have around, bringing new light to the days of Imladris.

Though Elrond saw Legolas happy during the day, it was the evenings which concerned him most of the child's well being. Not a night went by when he didn't hear the sounds of muffled sobs or small shouts from tormented dreams. In secret, unknown to Legolas, Elrond would often go into his bedchamber and stroke his cheek, and softly whisper until he calmed and was able to sleep peacefully. It deeply pained Elrond's heart to see one so young and so innocent in such pain. A confrontation was inevitable.

With his stained fingertips, Legolas turned towards Elrond. "Are they safe to eat?" he asked, holding a single berry in the palm of his hand.

"Of course they are!" Elrond exclaimed. "Have you never tasted a blackberry before?"

"They are rare, sometimes father asks them to be brought in from Dale. I have never eaten one straight from the bush." Legolas plopped a single berry into his mouth.

Elrond laughed. "You can eat more than one of them at once."

"They would not be sour?"

"Sour!" Elrond exclaimed, "Only the unripe ones will be sour. Those are easy enough to avoid."

Legolas hesitated. "At home we have berries in the likeness to these, winterberries we call them. They are white and -" Legolas froze as the memory of Brégil forced its way through his defenses.

"And?" Elrond questioned, gently urging him to continue.

Legolas shook his head. "Tis not important," he whispered.

Elrond closed his eyes. The time was upon them.

"Legolas," he breathed. "These things need to be talked about. You will only hurt yourself by holding it in. Avoidance will not change the situation. Nor will it qualm the pains you feel."

Legolas' eyes narrowed as waves of panic surged through him.

"What do you mean?" he asked feigning ignorance.

"I think we both know what I mean," Elrond said softly.

Legolas felt himself start to panic. Elrond knew. How could he know? No, that was impossible, he could not know. Legolas felt as though he couldn't breathe.

"Legolas," Elrond continued, lightly touching Legolas' arm. "You must talk of your experiences, only then can you overcome them. What happened with Brégil was not your fault."

Legolas reeled back, his eyes widened in horror. Blood drained from his face, he felt as though a bucket of ice cold water had been poured overtop of him. Shaking Elrond's hand off him, he stood looking like a startled deer ready to jolt. He did not wish to talk.

"I do not blame myself," he half-whispered. His throat constricted.

They both knew it was a lie, a poor one at that.

Elrond stood and took a step forward, slowly approaching Legolas.

Legolas shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut he took a step backwards.

"My father told you, didn't he? It was in that letter, the one I saw Anorlir give to Gildor," Legolas accused, his voice hoarse with tears. Legolas felt betrayed. How could his father have done this to him, to betray his own son? Nobody here was supposed to know. It was not supposed to be like this. Now everything was ruined.

"Legolas, I can help you."

"NO," Legolas shouted. "No," he repeated in a whisper. He felt as though were being smothered, he couldn't breathe. He had to get away, he had to leave Lord Elrond's knowing penetrating gaze. He turned away and did the only thing he could do, he ran blindly into the trees.

"Legolas, wait," Elrond called out before Legolas disappeared from sight.

Elrond closed his eyes and sighed. His heart felt heavy. He knew going into this that the confrontation was not going be smooth; the young had such raw uncontrollable emotions. Stepping forward he quickly set out to find the runaway prince.

Legolas ran until his legs couldn't carry him any longer, breathless he collapsed beneath a tree. Drawing his knees up to his chest he hugged himself, as his cries came out in loud chocked sobs.

His father had betrayed his trust. Legolas felt so angry and so heartbroken. So trapped. Why would his father do such a thing? It was none of Lord Elrond's business. Now his problems had forcibly followed him to Imladris, and what's worse, he had insulted Lord Elrond in his own home. He feared to think of Lord Elrond's wrath. He would surely be sent back to the Woodland Realm and before he even had a chance to meet with Elrohir and Elladan. Just thinking of Elrohir and Elladan made him cry harder. He just wished he could crumple into a ball and disappear. Everything was ruined and it was his fault.

That was how Elrond found him. Legolas could sense his approaching presence but chose to ignore the Elven lord, wanting to stall the inevitable. Elrond made no move to try and console him and only sat down silently beside him.

The air grew thick with tension. Legolas waited for Elrond's reaction in dreaded anticipation, but nothing happened. His sobs slowly calmed to silent tears, raising his head from beneath his arms, he chanced a glance at Lord Elrond.

Elrond just sat there, staring off into the distance, lost in a deep thought. Probably mentally arranging his journey home.

"I am sorry," Legolas whispered unable to take it any longer as a fresh wave tears made their way down his cheeks.

Elrond turned towards him, giving him a sad smile.

"Do not apologize. You have wronged no one. It is I who should apologize to you. I was insensitive."

Legolas shook his head and buried his face back beneath his arms. He was weak. He couldn't do this any more. Legolas flinched as Elrond placed a hand upon his shoulder.

"Let me help you," Elrond whispered. "Please."

Legolas choked out a sob. He couldn't do this anymore.

"You can trust me," the Elven Lord whispered again.

Legolas looked up at Elrond with tears streaming down his face, Lord Elrond's gaze was so pure, so kind and filled with trust.

Elrond reached over to brush a tear away from Legolas' cheek. That touch was what did it, as Legolas boldly threw himself into Lord Elrond's open arms as his heart tore open.

"They never came back," he cried. He couldn't explain what made him say it, nor did he truly know whether this was about Brégil or Elrohir and Elladan, everything swirled together in his mind. As Elrond's arms circled around him, Legolas realized that maybe it was easier telling all your problems to someone you've just met, as opposed to someone you've known all along.

"Release your burden, you can tell me," Elrond softly encouraged, strengthening his hold on Legolas.

With his cheek pressed up against Lord Elrond's chest, Legolas swallowed and nodded. Sniffling away some tears, in soft whisper in between small sobs, Legolas told Lord Elrond everything.

Legolas told Elrond how he had spent years waiting for Elrohir and Elladan, how badly it hurt that they never returned. How he constantly felt inadequate and lonely. How he has his father's love, his cousin's love, but he had not a single true friend to call his own.

How people either try to parley his status and name to get closer to his father, or how they are too intimated to speak with him. How when he was younger, he had no one to talk to or play with, everyone was just too busy to cater to the attention of a single elfling, and how Elrohir and Elladan were the first outside of his family to truley acknowledge him.

He told Elrond how he was useless during hunts, unable to kill animals. How on that hunt he left his bow behind when he was foolish and was caught in a spiders trap. How Brégil then had to lend him his knife, and his deep guilt, wondering if Brégil had that knife on him, he might have been able to defend himself better. The worst of his guilt was when Brégil had told him to run, and he did. Maybe if he stayed and fought, Brégil would still be alive, and if he could have held them off for a little longer, his cousin or Sernel would have made it in time and Brégil would not be wandering the Halls of Mandos. Balchar would not hate him and Sernel would not be heartbroken. Everything was his fault and everyone was just too kind to admit it.

As Legolas spoke Elrond listened intently, and when Legolas was finished he allowed him to cry on his shoulder until his tears ran dry. Legolas found Elrond's presence soothing; he felt a sense of peacefulness wash over him, feeling as though a large weight had been lifted off from him.

Legolas sat, protected and comforted in Elrond's arms. Elrond didn't try to tell him that his feelings were wrong, or that he was foolish. Nor did Elrond try to justify his feelings. He just listened and offered comfort. Something Legolas had desperately needed.

They sat like that for some time, the sun danced across the sky until the hour of twilight was upon them. The day had passed by quickly the sun had already set behind the large clefts of the valley, leaving in its wake the remnants of red and purple clouds. Eärendil could already be seen, starting his voyage across the evening sky. Finally Elrond spoke.

"Open your heart, feel the song of Ainur flow through you, you are deserving of light and should walk before it. Do not hold such guilt onto yourself, life is too uncertain to have regrets," Elrond whispered into his ear. "Guilt is one of the strongest emotions we feel, it is a strong motivator but can cloud our judgment. Do not let it rule over you."

A change washed over Legolas, enlightened by Elrond's words he could only dumbly nod.

"Come let us head back," Elrond said looking towards the sky. "The day grows late, we will be missed if we do not return soon."

Elrond held his arm out to Legolas, pulling him too his feet. Legolas wrapped his own arm tightly around Elrond's, as they walked closely together back to the last Homely House East of the Sea.

Legolas felt light and unsteady, and greatly welcomed Elrond's guidance. Legolas felt as if he were in a daze, a sort of clouded emptiness. He had so much to ponder and think about. He held onto Elrond's healing words closely.

The walk back was long, uneventful and silent.

Once in Imladris Elrond quickly lead Legolas down to his personal study, only releasing Legolas as the youth sat upon his chesterfield.

"Wait here for a moment," Elrond said softly as he left the chamber closing the door lightly behind him.

Legolas sat there, drawing his knees up to his chest. Legolas felt ashamed at how far he had ran. Was Lord Elrond somehow disappointed? His heart ached at the thought. He had behaved like a child. He hoped Lord Elrond would not sent him home. What shame it would bring upon him. His cheeks colored with embarrassment at the thought of what he would tell his father. He felt small, reminding him how he would feel just before he was to be reprimanded by his father. His father's punishments were always gentle, meant to teach him a lesson, not to cause pain, but still it had shamed him to disappoint his father, just as right now he felt he had somehow disappointed Lord Elrond.

He trembled, resting his chin upon his knees. So caught up in his self-misery he almost didn't notice Elrond entering the room. The Elven Lord's hands were full, carrying a silver platter, which he placed on a small table before him.

Elrond sat beside him. Legolas felt his heart speed up.

Unable to bear it any further, Legolas stood up. "I'll go pack my things," he murmured.

Elrond looked at him quizzically. "And where may I ask are you going, pen-neth?"

Now Legolas was confused. "Are you not sending me home?"

Elrond gently tugged on Legolas' arm, pulling him to sit back down.

"Is it your wish to leave?" Elrond asked, gently reaching over to gently move Legolas' chin, forcing him to make eye contact. Legolas saw Elrond's eyes were brimming with concern.

"No!" Legolas almost shouted. "Please, I do not want to go. Please don't make me go," he begged. "Please, I am sorry."

"Legolas," Elrond said kindly. "We have already established you have nothing to apologize for. Your reactions were natural. I would never send anyone away from Imladris. You are welcome in my home and shall stay for as long as you desire to. Though it is not my wish for you to leave. "

Legolas calmed, breathing a shaky sigh of relief.

"Now, will you not join me for some tea?" Elrond asked, handing Legolas a steamy mug from the silver tray. "I find this blend eases both the mind and the body. Your mind is weary and needs rest."

The aroma was warm and soothing, calming Legolas. "What is in it?" he asked skeptically.

Elrond laughed. "Dried petals from a chamomile flower. Picked from my personal garden, with of course a spoonful of honey." Elrond winked.

"Oh," Legolas replied, as Elrond reached for his own mug.

"Why so hesitant? I would never drug someone against their will," Elrond said. "It is highly unethical."

Legolas smiled in return, visibly relaxing into the cushions beside him.

"Has your father ever told you the story how he and I met?" Elrond asked.

Legolas shook his head as his eyes widened with curiosity, taking small sips from his tea.

Elrond smiled. "Then relax and make yourself comfortable."

Legolas eagerly obeyed, setting his empty mug down, he relaxed, leaning into the cushions beside Elrond.

"You remind me much of myself from back then," Elrond started. "I was youth, unsure of myself. I had only just come to Mithlond. That day I had met your father, I had learned something dreadful of two elves I had come to love and respect…" As Elrond told his story, his soft voice lulled Legolas as his eyes started to flicker closed, unburdened and falling into a well-needed deep sleep.

Elrond stood from Legolas' side. He watched the child momentarily before moving to his desk. He sat down, pulling out a quill and parchment. He thought it best to write to Thranduil who was most likely more than concerned for his only son. Elrond looked up towards Legolas, at least now he was sure Legolas would be okay, as the wounds of his heart would slowly mend under his careful attention.

Gildor silently entered the chamber. "Is all well?" he softly asked, motioning towards Legolas as he took a seat at Elrond's desk.

"In time he shall be," replied Elrond as he explained all that had occurred. "His burdens are deep but they shall lessen. He thought I would send him home."

Gildor almost laughed, as he stood and made his way before Legolas. Gently he stoked the youth's cheek.

"When I first met him he reminded me of Elladan, so closed off. It pained me but perhaps he is more like Elrohir?" Gildor mused.

"He is nothing like Elladan or Elrohir," Elrond replied. He was not blind to his sons ever changing facade, and hoped Legolas would never have to suffer like them.

"He is still growing," Elrond continued.

Gildor smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from Legolas face. "You are right. He is but a small a bud."

"Indeed, he has a grave future ahead of himself," Elrond said.

Gildor turned towards him in surprise. "What did you see?"

Elrond shook his head. "The inevitable, but tis nothing to be concerned about yet, my friend."

The soft sound of a harp peacefully eased Legolas out of his dreamless sleep. He lay there contently just listening to it as the melody drifted through him bringing images of grassy meadows and wild flowers swaying in the noontime breeze.

He sat up and found himself alone in Elrond's office. A thin blanket had been placed over him. Raising, Legolas carefully folded it, setting it aside. The stars were out; a new day was shining upon him. Legolas felt light, almost happy, definitely content. He looked over to Elrond's desk and saw the book he had made and gifted to Lord Elrond was opened. His heart swelled with pride.

Lord Elrond was kind and Legolas desperately wished to seek him out. The sound of the harp was so pure, so vibrant and strong, Legolas new it must be Lord Elrond playing it, and set off, allowing the melody to guide him.

He wandered the halls of Elrond, as the melody of the harp increased, singing and laughter could be heard. He made his down the corridor where his own chamber was located, past the closed doors of Elrohir and Elladan's personal chambers, wistfully looking upon them. He finally stopped before the source of the music, finding himself standing before two great doors. He was before the Hall of Fire. Many times Lord Elrond and invited him to join, every time Legolas had refused. The merriment from within pricked his curiosity till Legolas could stand it no longer. With an open heart he pushed open the grand doors.

The first thing he noticed was a great hearth, within it the warm glow of the fire filled the room. Many candles were lit. The room was filled with elves, to Legolas it seemed as though the whole of Imladris were brought together in this great hall. Some were dancing, while others sat in cushioned seats or upon window frames and balcony ledges, talking and smiling. He saw Lindir in the middle of it, holding in his hands a harp. With eyes closed he softly plucked the strings. Legolas never heard anything like it before, realizing in surprise it was not Lord Elrond playing, but Lindir.

No one seemed to notice his presence, Legolas was thankful, taking a moment to stand and watch. From afar he could clearly make out their smiles, their glowing happy faces, as their laughter rang through his ears. Legolas wanted to dislike them, to dislike this room. It seemed unfair that a single place could be filled with such mirth.

But Legolas didn't have it in himself to do so. His heart was not bitter. Looking upon their dancing forms, the swirls of color, the singing that touched his heart and brought images of peace to his mind, Legolas came to the realization that he should not begrudge them for their happiness, and Lindir, they were from different worlds. Legolas never felt more conflicted. It was not their fault his home was his in shadow. His own people found happiness, in their own albeit different way. His father was the host to many great feasts to lift their spirits. Legolas saw that these smiles in Imladris and the warmth of this room was something to be a treasured, not despised.

Closing his eyes, Legolas inhaled deeply before opening them as he stepped into the hall, feeling for a moment, every bit deserving of this happiness, wanting to share in the mirth created in the Hall of Fire.

Quick to his goal, Legolas spied Elrond in the far side of the room and made his way directly over to the Lord of Imladris. Elrond greeted him with a great warmth, beckoning him to sit at his side. A chalice of wine was forced into his hands, and his own laughter was soon added to the Hall. Into the late hours of the night Legolas sat there, as a new fire was kindled into his heart.

It was long before sleep once again threatened to over take him. He refused Elrond's offer to walk him back to his chamber. He walked lightly with contentment; his mind lay clouded with the soothing warmness of wine. Singing to himself, he felt as though he were a cloud, floating away in eternal bliss.

Down the hall from his chamber, a small stream of lighted filtered through the corridor. Legolas took notice to it as his heart lurched in his chest. Alarm bells rang, that door should not be open.

Instantly feeling awake, as if jolted from a dream, he slowly stepped closer to the room. His heart sped up uncontrollably, leaving him feeling nauseous. His hands were clammy and lightly trembled. Why was that door open?

Stepping into the light, Legolas peered into the room clutching onto the doorframe. The sight stole his breath away. With his heart beating erratically, he felt as though he were about to black out as the corners of his vision darkened. Elrohir.