Mask of Innocence

Muchas gracias to all reviewers, past and new (thanks so much Faerlas & Elven hope!) My review count has now gone beyond cien! (that's 100 for all of you who don't speak Spanish...at least it should be one-hundred...) lol. Again, hannon le!

Chapter Twenty-five: Fire & Ice

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"…Seeing you, it kills me now,
No, I don't cry on the outside anymore…"

-Kelly Clarkson: "Behind These Hazel Eyes"

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Dawn greeted a cold, silent Elfling every day for the next month. Legolas' appearances outside his bedroom grew more and more rare, his food remained untouched, and his flesh stretched thin over his bones as he ate little or nothing, refused to leave his bed, and grew weaker every day. The horrible reality that Sauron had killed Imrathon was slowly destroying him. Piece by piece, day by day, his heart broke, shattering like glass a little more with each terrible thought or vision of his father screaming, writhing in agony upon his study floor, and suddenly go still like Imrathon had the day before the festival of the New Year. It was small consolation that his father had not been poisoned like Imrathon had, so he would not die a terrible death like his friend had suffered, but it did not matter. Legolas was certain that Sauron would find a way to kill his father, and that he would not rest until the mighty king lay dead.

The prince felt himself slipping away. His spirit was waning, his heart faltering; it would not be long before one morn he simply did not wake. Grief was suffocating him, not only grief for his friend's death but for his father and dead mother, for they had been cursed with a child who would later be the cause of a loyal friend, captain, and subject's death. And Legolas knew, deep in his heart, that Sauron wanted him for more than Imrathon's death.

Legolas knew that Imrathon's abrupt loss was only a warning. Sauron used the noble captain's body for his evil ways, to show that he had not left Legolas' life. And the very thought that Sauron was still there to haunt him terrified Legolas. The prince knew that it was only a matter of time before Sauron gained the advantage he needed and the right moment came to him, and then he would strike out. And then Thranduil would die.

So far it only seemed logical that Thranduil would be killed. Sauron had already taken Imrathon away, a person that was dearer than life itself to Legolas. But if he took Thranduil…Valar, it would kill him, and Legolas knew it.

Sauron had told him when he was imprisoned that he, Legolas, belonged to him. But it made no sense; how could I belong to someone? Am I not a free man, or Elf, for that matter? But it probably mattered not to Sauron, and Legolas had a sickening feeling that he would know the true meaning behind the Dark Lord's words soon, very soon.

But suddenly he remembered very clearly Imrathon's words were when he learned that Legolas bore the scar.

"This mark means that you are under his rule, do you understand? You must tell your father immediately!" Imrathon ordered, grasping Legolas' shoulders firmly. The child stared at him, tears beginning to fill his eyes. "Legolas, what did he do when he gave this to you!"

"He…he…he chanted a spell….after he…cut me…" Legolas managed out, his voice trembling as badly as his body was.

Imrathon stared at him. "Holy Valar, he could be using you, gaining a body through yours…Sweet Elbereth, it is not possible…"

Legolas was sure Imrathon was wrong. There was no way in Arda Sauron could inhabit his body. He could not remember a single instance of that happening. Surely he would have known, and he would have felt the Dark Lord filling up his body and driving him from his flesh…

There was a gentle knock on Legolas' bedroom door. The child did not stir, but instead rolled over to face the balcony doors and put his back to the door. He heard the soft creak of the door opening and detected his father's royal, noble presence coming close. Legolas shut his eyes tightly, stifling tears. He hated the fact that his father came in and kept trying to learn what was wrong. He told him every time that he could not tell him, but his father had to be so stubborn and refuse to listen. Today would be harder, Legolas knew. Thranduil would try to push him, and make him tell. He would not just leave like he had done before; he would go down with a fight. Ai, if only he knew that Legolas could not tell him, not if he wanted to live.

The bed shifted slightly as the Woodland King sat down by his child, gazing down with a mixture of pain and sorrow in his beautiful emerald eyes that glittered like the gems in his vaults. Thranduil's hand gently caressed the prince's back, rubbing circles into the tense muscles in an effort to relax him. He did not speak, but instead sat there and watched his son as Legolas sank more fully into the pillows and blankets, his body relaxing through the tears that spilled forth silently and the comforting, healing presence of his father.

"Every day that I enter here, you weep. Why is this, tithen-pen?" Thranduil gazed sadly at his child, a little Elfling who should not have experienced this much grief at such an early age. "Why do you weep? Does my presence upset you?"

Legolas slowly rolled over, tears glistening in his fair sapphire eyes. "I love you, Ada," Legolas whispered. He reached for his father's hand, his own so small and cold compared to the king's strong, warm fingers. "That is why I weep."

Thranduil looked at him with confusion and worry flickering across his features. In times before, Legolas had never spoken to him. He had remained mute and heartbroken, lying there with tears slipping down his small fair face. "Are you afraid to love me?" he asked softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper as if he was afraid of his child's answer.

"Yes," came the weak reply. Thranduil's eyes briefly closed as pain gripped his heart.

"And why is that?"

"I am afraid for you. You will be hurt if I love you. He uses everyone I love against me…" Legolas turned away again, burying his head into the pillow and muffling his tears. Thranduil gently drew him into his arms.

"Who will hurt me, Legolas? You can tell me, it is all right," Thranduil kissed his brow lovingly, unconsciously holding him tightly as to protect him from this sudden foe. He did not show it, but he was now beginning to feel the sudden gripping pangs of terror for his child deep inside him.

"No, I cannot. If I tell you, you will die, Ada," Legolas was now crying again. "You will die, just like Imrathon after he learned that he had given me it, and you will leave me here alone with him, and…"

Thranduil hushed him gently. His features were composed, but inside he felt like he was being torn apart by the razor-sharp teeth of dragons. Someone has threatened him, promising to kill me if he speaks of something. Imrathon was murdered! By the love of Ilúvatar, what in Arda is happening!

"Legolas, how did Imrathon die?" the king asked quietly. His eyes were not upon his child, but instead staring blankly through the balcony doors and into the bleary April sky as his mind worked like mad, trying to process and decipher everything at once. Legolas' shoulders shook with sobs, his body convulsing in the king's arms.

"I cannot tell you, he will find out…"

"No, he will not. Legolas, tell me. This will help us; I will not die, I promise you!" Thranduil's tone was a mix of anger and pleading, feeling lost and confused. His child was being threatened by some unknown foe, and he would not tell him who it was!

Legolas turned his wide, sapphire-silver eyes to his father. "Do you not get it, Ada? I cannot! He sees everything, with his palantîr! He will know when I have said too much, and he will kill you! Imrathon's death is my fault, because I told him too much! I do not want to see someone else die because of me! Please, Ada, I do not want to hurt you!" With that Legolas collapsed sobbing uncontrollably in the king's arms, who sat motionless, stunned by his son's words. His mind was working furiously. 'He' possesses a palantîr, one of the great Seeing Stones. Imrathon was murdered……and Legolas is not allowed to speak of it…but how would he know if there were no signs of a messenger? But there was an arrow by the child and the body…and a piece of parchment…

"Legolas…" Thranduil began. The child stirred uncomfortably in his arms. "The note on the arrow – what did it say?"

Legolas sat bolt upright. "How do you know there was a message?" He exclaimed incredulously, his eyes wide and wild. Thranduil shrank back at his son's sudden crazed appearance. But before Legolas could say more, his eyes suddenly snapped shut, and he winced, clutching at his chest. A soft moan escaped his lips, and anxiously Thranduil reached for him, his hands flying to the source of pain. Legolas shoved him away abruptly.

"No! You cannot stay here, he knows!" Legolas cried desperately. He shoved at the king with horror in his eyes, but Thranduil was stunned. Nothing made sense. "He knows! He will hurt you, kill you, and take you away from me!" Legolas collapsed onto the bed, huddling into a tiny ball. "No! NO!"

Thranduil watched in numb shock as his child burst into tears and clawed at the sheets and bedding, sobbing hysterically, moaning in emotional agony all the while. Suddenly he silenced, and lay still, breathing hard. Abruptly he sucked in a gasp.

"No…no, not again. Not again, not again, not again…" Legolas whimpered, and a sudden piercing shriek escaped from his lips, and he trembled madly. He squeezed his eyes shut, and suddenly stilled. Thranduil lurched forward.

"Legolas!"

But suddenly, the prince sat upright. His movements were swift and fluid as he turned his head to Thranduil, and grinned nastily. The king nearly fell backwards. Legolas' eyes were a flaming red, his pupils and iris one as he gazed at Thranduil piercingly. They were a burning, blazing red, no spark of light or joy in their fiery darkness, and Thranduil involuntarily recoiled at the sight of his little son possessing eyes so intense, so petrifying, so terrible.

"We meet again, King Thranduil," Legolas hissed, his voice like and yet so unlike his own. It was deeper, more powerful, yet it possessed the same slight high-pitched tone of the Elfling he was. There was some hidden voice inside Legolas', a voice that was not familiar, yet it felt like Thranduil had known this person all his life…Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and Thranduil knew it. Rising to his feet hastily, he began to back away.

"Legolas?"

Legolas tipped his head to the side and gave a smug smile.

"Of course I am Legolas. This is your son's body, Thranduil, but his mind…" Legolas laughed suddenly, cruel and harsh. "Ah, his mind is not his own."

Thranduil's eyes flashed ever so faintly, danger glimmering from their depths. "Who are you?" he demanded quietly. He did not show the anger that was bubbling so near to the surface, for he was skilled in the arts of hiding his true feelings. Legolas smiled up at him sweetly.

"You cannot guess who I am, of all the evil beings out there with the power to control minds, to enter bodies? Well then, I shall give you some hints." Legolas' features suddenly hardened, cold and menacing. "I was the one responsible for your father' death. I sent the Orcs to kill you, the queen, and the babe that would perhaps be the downfall of me once grown, but my servants failed and only the girl died. I tortured the brat of yours in my towers. Can you guess now, little king?"

Legolas went on, his voice dropping down to be low and sweet yet again.

"Watching your father die was so entertaining…so sweet…so…beautiful, do you not think? And your wife, ah, she was a charming lady, wasn't she?" Thranduil's eyes briefly closed, and he drew in his breath sharply at the mention of Vanya. This could not be Legolas, it could not be, it was not possible, he did not possess this kind of madness, this disrespect for his dead mother and grandsire, this…this…evil…

"How do I know your true identity when all the Free Peoples' enemies know that my father and wife were murdered by yrch from the south?" Thranduil broke in suddenly, his eyes sharp and piercing.

Legolas merely smiled. "I know something that the others do not," he murmured slyly. Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "I watched your wife die. No, I was not there myself, but I have my methods of seeing things from afar. Here is what I will tell you: your wife was with child when she died." At this Legolas' eyes flickered across Thranduil's features, searching for the reaction he sought. And there, in the eyes, he found it: behind the blank mask, there was the flicker of pain, of shock, of horror for the slightest instant before it melted back into the emotionless mask that the king was so excellent at pulling in place. Legolas smiled sweetly and continued, knowing he had struck a sensitive nerve.

"The girl screamed, did she not? Oh yes, she did scream. The horrifying sound of her tender voice straining at her vocal limit as she uttered her anguish and agony must have been terrible. And if I remember correctly, did she not cry 'carú tegi gurth am hîni-nín!'+ to her attackers? I know very little of your language, but I believe she spoke of 'children'. Nay, not one child; many, or at least two. Do not tell me that you forced another child upon the poor girl, Thranduil," Legolas said in disgust. "Did you wish that much for large progeny? Could you not have hired some of your women for the night to carry your numerous heirs and spare that beautiful, dazzling maiden of your harsh touches, your hoarse whispers? But nonetheless, a child your wife had with her. A little daughter you would have had, eh, Thranduil? Or another son?"

Thranduil sucked in sharp breath. No one knew about the second child, save I. Is it possible that the Orcs saw the slight roundness of her belly? Did they see her as she strove to shield both our son and unborn daughter from the bite of the blades and knives that rained down upon her? In his dream he had not seen her do this, but perhaps his dream had been altered to focus upon only Legolas months ago, and not the meldainiel+ that Vanya bore within her. Now that he thought about it, Thranduil did indeed remember his beloved cry out many times to spare her children. But surely the enemy was not intelligent enough to realize that she was with child…

No…he could not possibly know that she was with child…he must be lying…His eyes briefly closed and his thoughts flashed back, remembering when his first child had been born, and when Vanya had announced within three months that she was with yet another child. How proud and excited they were when they learned that she would give birth to yet another child, a daughter, in the summer of the next year. Legolas had brought them so much joy in his first months. They had been so thrilled when they learned that they would be blessed with another young life so early in the eternity that they were supposed to spend together, blissful and in love…

"The grief of learning that your wife and unborn child were dead must have nearly killed you," Legolas murmured understandingly, grinning madly. Thranduil caught the mocking undertone. The Woodland King's eyes flashed open, and they lit upon his son with seething anger. "But life is not always fair, am I correct, Thranduil?"

Throughout Legolas' monologue, Thranduil's temper had risen to a dangerous point, threatening to lose control. It had clicked who this was, even as he denied it, and now he was certain. His faced flushed, his fingernails digging sharply into his palm as he held his hands in tight fists at his sides, and he shook slightly, his anger getting the best of him. And now, Thranduil lost it. The cool, concealing mask upon his features cracked and fell away, and Thranduil went mad.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY SON, SAURON!" Thranduil roared. He leapt forward and seized the body that Sauron inhabited by the neck and shook him hard, the small windpipe easily collapsing under his iron grip. "GET OUT OF HIS BODY! CURSE YOU, CURSE YOU SAURON! HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF MY WIFE AND CHILDREN LIKE THAT! I SWEAR, I WILL KILL-"

The body gave a sudden shudder in the king's tight grip, his eyes shutting tightly, and then opening again to reveal sapphire.

"Ada?"

Thranduil gave a sharp cry and leapt back to find staring into the ice-blue crystal orbs of his very frightened and terrified child, who lay cowering on the bed. No longer did fire burn in his eyes.

"Ada?" Legolas whimpered, trembling. His small, shaking hands were rubbing his sore neck anxiously, and he coughed. "Why were you hurting me?"

Thranduil felt his anger dissolve immediately. The terrified look on his child's face was because of his actions. Sweet Valar, he had tried to throttle Legolas…

Stumbling forward, Thranduil reached out for his child with a shaking hand. Forgive me…

Legolas recoiled slightly, terror in his eyes. The king shrank back as if struck. Tears came unbidden to his eyes, and he staggered backwards, his hand clutching at his own throat as he saw the bruises upon his child's. Turning, he fled, leaving his child sitting there horrified and in shock. The door slammed shut, and Thranduil was gone.

Ada was hurting me…

The terrible anger and hatred in Thranduil's eyes was terrifying, and Legolas whimpered softly and huddled under the blankets at the thought of his father wanting to hurt him. What had happened? I remember nothing, save that he was trying to get me to tell him about the message…

He shuddered suddenly, remembering the last thing he heard and saw. The chanting, the same he had heard when Sauron had cut him in Dol Guldar, had returned again, and he had been sucked into blackness, hurtling through darkness. Chanting…

He had heard the chanting before, that he was sure of. But when, that he did not know. Moaning softly, Legolas huddled into a ball, pulling the blankets over his head as tears came unbidden to his eyes, a headache beginning to throb at his temple. Then Legolas began to cry, his tears creating a slippery trail that led down his fair cheeks from his beautiful eyes, eyes that only moments before had been the only sign that he had been possessed by one of the most powerful, yet terrible, beings in Middle-earth for the second time.

TBC

+carú tegi gurth am hîni-nín: lit. trans. meaning "do not bring death upon my children!" (my Elvish is not very accurate, so please do not be offended if you are fluent in the Sindarin language!)

+meldainiel: beloved angel (this is not, however, the translation for 'baby' or 'infant'. It remains simply what I said it means.)