Chapter 11: A Taste of Death
Birds were singing. It felt like spring. Legolas opened his eyes, eager for it all to have been a dream and that he would dress, run to the barracks and find Rugon, Pelorian and Sard waiting for him. He would even hug Blaon once he saw him.
Instead of his room's vaulted ceiling and billowing green and white curtains on the south-facing wall, he saw a curved ceiling carved from honey stone. Instead of the gentle gold and green light of Mirkwood, he blinked against the harsh white glare of Rivendell. It smelled of herbs and wet stone. It smelled strange and foreign, and drove a spike through his heart. He had wanted to be home.
"Good afternoon, Prince Legolas," came a soft, soothing voice.
Elrond.
Legolas looked to his right and saw the Rivendell lord sitting forward in a wooden chair that had a tall, sweeping back. Elrond's black hair was dry and a bit unkempt, his deep blue robes rumpled.
"How long have you been awake?" Legolas didn't like how weak his voice sounded. He cleared it and swallowed.
Elrond smiled, which only made the bags under his blue eyes darker, and twined his fingers beneath his chin.
"Most of my patients want to know how long they have been asleep, not how long I have been awake," he said.
Legolas didn't smile with him.
"You have been here for two weeks, young one," Elrond said. "I was not sure if you would wake again."
Legolas nodded. At least he had not been asleep for another month. Two months and two weeks was more than enough time away from home, and none of it needed or wanted.
"Will you let me go now?" Legolas asked.
Elrond's brows rose and his eyes grew sadder, if that were possible. He had the gentlest face Legolas had ever seen. Elrond reached out and wiped a hand down the side of Legolas's cheek.
"That would depend," Elrond whispered. "I need you to tell me everything that has happened."
"I can tell you on the way back," Legolas said. "You can come and make Glorfindel better, too."
Elrond closed his eyes at the name of his friend.
"That may be," Elrond allowed, "but you come first now. If my sons are correct, it sounds as if Rivendell should be your home. If my sons are correct, you will not be let go until you are of age."
Legolas leaned away from him.
"I do not mean this to be cruel," Elrond said. "I speak only of your safety. No elfling should think that what you may or may not have been through is normal. I am your friend, Legolas, just as I am your father's friend."
"Then don't do this to him," Legolas begged.
"You must tell me why I shouldn't."
O
"I've searched the whole place out," Mala whispered as she led him quietly around another corner. She held his hand, moving slowly since he was still weak though on the mend.
It had been close to another month since they had been away from home, and since they arrived in Rivendell. Though he had told Elrond what he wanted to know over the weeks he stayed at the elven realm, the lord had made no comment or judgment on any of it. Legolas was not sure if he was still being held captive, or if he was being watched as he continued to recover from the poison.
Legolas had been allowed out of bed a few days ago, and Mala showed him Rivendell with caution. Neither of them felt safe. Today she led him near the kitchens, following their noses. The aroma of fresh bread and mixed frosting led them down another crowded hallway. Mala had told him that the kitchens were a marvelous place to be, especially since the cooks were nothing like the ones back home in Mirkwood or even Fesove at the barracks. These cooks gave sweets away like they were nothing.
They stayed close to the walls, keeping out of everyone's way. Most elves looked at them and smiled like the human merchants had back home, waving and cooing – especially at him. The elves treated him like some kind of broken thing, and he hated it.
Though he was still pale, he was able to walk now. Though he was still shaky, he no longer passed out. Mala had braided his hair away from his face for their adventure today, and he almost looked like his normal self. Aside, of course, the tremors and being as white as bone.
Mala kept a close eye on him, peering back at him often over a shoulder. Her wintry green eyes were soft like fresh snow, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip.
Legolas ignored her worry. He was fine. Elrond had identified the poison, said he could be saved since – by some miracle – he hadn't died yet. Most that ingest dregs of the tangleroot weed die within seconds, even though there is a cure. Elrond was convinced that Indari was feeding him the cure in secret. Legolas wasn't so sure.
"I think it is time to go home." Legolas pulled back on Mala's hand. She stopped to look at him, white brows tight and eyes narrowed.
"You are still getting better." She came closer with a wary glance at the watching elves that passed.
"Elrond is no longer giving me the cure, I don't need it," Legolas argued. They were so close now this breath moved her cotton-white hair away from her forehead. "I feel that we must go home. Something is wrong."
Mala studied him.
"Why do the elflings look so serious?"
Both jumped. Erestor, Lord Elrond's advisor, stood next to them. Mala pressed her shoulder against Legolas's, their hands tightening around each others.
"We were going to the kitchens," Legolas said. Mala stomped on his foot.
Erestor's concerned frown eased and he winked.
"Best hurry off then, before Elladan and Elrohir take them all," he said.
It was Legolas's turn to frown.
"Elladan and Elrohir are either looking for me or are barricaded in my room waiting for me to get back," he said. It was the truth, too. The twins had shadowed and babied him since he arrived, both alarmed by his nightmares. Since they learned he had them, they camped on the floor of his room to reach him all the faster. Neither had been their jovial selves, the ones that Legolas remembered – which, according to Elrond, was not as jovial as they truly were. When Legolas met them, they were still in their grief, though it hadn't consumed them yet.
The lines on Erestor's face deepened again. He readjusted his hold on some thick tomes, gave a short nod and retreated down the hallway. Legolas felt guilty. Perhaps he hadn't said anything.
"Okay," Mala said and pulled him back towards the kitchens. "We will go. First, we need to find out how we can get out of here without so many elves seeing us."
O
It was the first dinner Legolas attended that night. He dressed in some of Elladan and Elrohir's old elfling clothes, which were too big on him since he had lost weight – according to Elrond. Mala wore some of Arwen's. They walked hand-in-hand towards the dining hall, led by the twins amid a sea of hungry elves. Legolas walked carefully in the dark blue robes, not wishing to trip. Mala picked up the hem of her white dress, looking much more graceful than he could hope to be. She seemed like a snowflake floating down the hall.
The twins led them through double doors into an elegant, intricate wing. Tables adorned the open space, made from pale wood and draped with silk runners. The twins led Legolas and Mala to a table at the head of the hall, seating them on one side of a large, cushioned chair.
Elrond sat there. Legolas watched as he took his place and waved for food to be served.
Legolas fidgeted as they waited. He tried not to kick his feet, tried to keep his hands folded nicely in his lap the way Nana taught him, and tried not to keep his eyes from wandering to the other tables to watch the dark-haired elves.
"It is good to see you getting better, tithen las," Elrond said over the rim of a golden goblet, eyes amused. Legolas noticed that the twins were silent and still on the lord's other side, neither speaking. He glanced at Mala and saw her playing with her fork.
"I gather you are anxious to get home," Elrond said.
Those words made Legolas sit still. Elrond's hand smoothed Legolas's hair and cupped the back of his head.
"You need not plan an escape," Elrond sounded amused.
Mala stopped playing with her fork.
"A Rivendell escort will see you home," Elrond laughed, eyes gentle but sad. "I will come as well. Perhaps I can help Glorfindel. . . Perhaps I can help your ada. The Valar know how long it has been since Rivendell has been needed to help Mirkwood and hasn't. It is time to rid our blind eye and see again. Your troubles will soon be ours, for you are our kin."
Legolas blinked up at the lord in astonishment. After a moment of shock, he turned a grin of hope on Mala. They were going home.
O
The dungeons were cold and dank. Thranduil leaned his head on the bars and tried to gaze up the deep cavern to the stars, but could see nothing but more stone. He shivered and wondered when he had become so frozen, as if being warm had become a distant dream. He thought of his warm elfling, before Legolas began to fade, of how Ayanu had warmed his bed and the soft light of sun against his skin as he watched Oroduil and Kasslad spar on the field as he, Ayanu and Legolas had sat on the grass with their lunch.
Another life. A foreign life. All of it stolen from him by both dragon claws and teeth, greedy human hands, and hurt and betrayed elven hearts.
He had to face that he would never get any of it back, except for Kasslad and Legolas, except for his throne. It had been his father's, and it would not be ripped from him. The world shook as a new dragon rage found him, but faded before it could free him from his cell. He had not the heart to force his kingdom to bow to him. His heart fluttered, weak and sad.
"Good evening, Thranduil." Inamgia.
Thranduil eased away from the icy bars and leaned back against the wall. The council lady had come to see him every day during his month and a half long incarceration. She didn't say much, just told him how the people are being prepared to make Kasslad king and execute Thranduil. Her visits were terrible and tedious. They kept him cold.
The council lady stepped into view, dressed in sweeping golden robes. Dark green eyes found his and her red mouth curled into a grin.
"I have good news for you today," she said.
Thranduil dreaded it and sought his dragon rage. He wished for Dekriem now more than ever, just to see the snake rip out this elleth's black heart.
"I am offering you freedom," she said.
Thranduil narrowed his eyes. He didn't believe her for a second.
"If you make me your advisor, you will be released," she said. "But you must always do as I say."
Thranduil laughed. It was almost as cold as he felt.
"You have set the kingdom up to hate me," Thranduil argued. "They will never allow you to set me free and reclaim my rightful seat as king. They would see me dead first."
"That can be easily fixed." Inamgia raised a caustic brow at his wicked smirk. "People would more easily believe that Kasslad hurt Legolas."
Thranduil rushed at the bars, wrapping powerful fingers around the iron, wishing to harm her, stop her.
"Kasslad has changed so much since Kagnirrok visited," she continued. "He has lost his spirit, his joy. When once he could always be found with the beloved, beautiful elfling, he no longer can. Kasslad has become a ghost of his former self. Elves would understand if he blamed Legolas for the loss of his naneth and elder brother. For it was the elfling's fault, was it not?"
"They would not believe you," Thranduil growled. "Kasslad has a broken heart, they understand that. He would harm no one!"
"As for this pesky problem with you and the dragon, Dekriem," she went on like he said nothing, "it was Oropher who made the deal, not you. With my help, you would come out the victim on each count. The elves would accept your dragon curse, begrudgingly of course, but would understand that you did not choose this. Even so, it has become handy just in case Kagnirrok comes back."
"This would never work." Thranduil hit the bars, but they did not break like he had desperately envisioned.
"Of course, the kingdom will be told that you initially took the blame to protect your father's honor and keep Kasslad from persecution."
Thranduil said nothing more. She was not listening to him.
"What say you?" She smiled.
"Let me speak to Kasslad," he said.
O
Kasslad came not thirty minutes later. Thranduil pressed against the bars to be closer to his son. They had not treated him well. Thranduil could see how his armor had been removed so roughly that his green and black clothes beneath had been torn. He must not have been allowed to change, even these long weeks. His white hair was a mess and his eyes had dark smears beneath them. His lower lip trembled as he broke free of his escort, one of whom was Naspen, and hurled himself at the bars.
"Ada," Kasslad shouted.
Thranduil reached his fingers through the small spaces between the iron. Kasslad clutched at them the best he could, tears in his dim golden eyes.
"Ada, forgive me," he said. "It was my idea. I refused to be king. She told me I had to come up with a solution to free you, if that were to be the case."
"Take the throne, ion nin," Thranduil whispered, longing to wipe the tears that spilled from Kasslad's eyes, clinging to his long ivory lashes. "Do not throw your life away. You are not yet five-hundred. You are too young, while I have lived many a millennia."
Kasslad shook his head and a sob shook free, knocking his knees to the stone. Thranduil fell with him, desperate to keep what little hold he had on his son's fingers, lending his strength to him that he could.
"You will be a great king," Thranduil encouraged. "You will find a way to break the council's hold on this kingdom and restore it to what it was before."
"What of Legolas?" Kasslad raised his swimming eyes, as lost and broken as he had been after Kagnirrok ruined their world. "I want to be out there searching for him. I should be out there! He is my brother. He is six years old. He needs me to find him."
Thranduil bowed his head, letting white-gold hair fall around his face to hide his agony. It had been two months since the elfling was stolen. He could be anywhere and as far as Rohan now, for all he knew.
"Take her offer, ada," Kasslad begged. "I have a way to escape. I will go after Legolas. Please, it will work."
"How?" Thranduil asked, looking at him again.
"Trust me."
O
Legolas and Mala walked with Elladan back to their rooms, excited and, for once, at peace. Rivendell did not seem as frightening as it had when they arrived, especially since they were no longer prisoners. At least, they didn't feel like captives now.
Elladan smiled softly as both elflings told him of home. Legolas tried to get him to understand how wonderful Sard was, but the twin merely smiled, hands behind his back, gray eyes sad and lost beneath his black lashes.
Legolas looked back towards the dining hall they had left. Elrohir had been drinking too much, and had gotten angry and started yelling. Erestor and Elrond had dismissed most of the elves as they tried to calm him. From the way the other elves left without argument or staring, Legolas knew it happened often when the twins were home.
Elladan had watched his brother with sadness, his fea growing dimmer and dimmer. Legolas remembered the smile he used to always wear, the laughter that had once come easily, even when he was still grieving. In fact, he reminded Legolas of Kasslad.
Perhaps . . . perhaps if he got Elladan to be happy again, he would know how to bring Kasslad's joy back.
"Do you know how to play stones?" Legolas asked him.
Elladan's eyes lit for a moment.
"I do," he asked. "But it is too late to play them."
"It's never too late," Mala said and ran to her room. Legolas smiled after her, having known she had brought them. She loved to play stones.
Elladan signed and shrugged one shoulder, as if too distracted by a drunk Elrohir to care. Legolas grabbed the edge of his green tunic and hauled the twin to his room. Elladan sat on the floor where he and Elrohir camped out to be close to Legolas, to wake him from his nightmares. Legolas threw pillows off the bed and joined him just as Mala ran in with her hands full of marbles.
Mala dumped them on the blankets and sat cross-legged next to Legolas, grinning like a blinding winter morning at Elladan. The twin's smile brightened for a moment and he scooped his share of marbles, rolling them toward him.
They played for hours, until first Mala fell asleep and then Legolas. He had merely rested his head in Elladan's lap for a brief minute, when the next he knew he was blinking his eyes open, the taste of sleep on his tongue. He widened his eyes against the darkness of his room. It was early in the morning, too early to be awake.
So he tried to find out why he had woken. Elladan was lying back against a mountain of pillows, head fallen back in sleep, so he hadn't woken him from any nightmares. Mala was curled like up like a fox beneath some blankets, face tucked away beneath her mane of white hair. Legolas stretched and sat up from Elladan's side, and from beneath his protective arm.
He sniffed. There was smoke in the air. A lot of it.
Too much of it.
That was what woke him.
He stood and a hand went over his mouth. Panic grasped him by the lungs and he tried to scream. It was muffled beneath the strong fingers. He turned and saw that Elladan had risen, gray eyes sharp and worried in the dim light filtering through the curtains. It was a red and orange light.
Elladan turned toward the windows, Legolas not far behind. The twin pulled back the curtains and Legolas gasped. All of Rivendell was alight with flame.
