Mask of Innocence
As we begin to venture into waters filled with danger for our beloved king & prince, I would like to remind everyone of the rating and reasons behind it: strong PG-13 for angst, adult themes (NO sex or implications of it, however), blood, tears, and character death. Now would also be the time to encourage all of you, if you feel this story needs a higher rating (M is the next category and states "Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with possible strong but non-explicit adult themes, references to violence, and strong coarse language."), by all means, let me know. I believe my rating is currently fine, though. (T: "Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.") Sorry, I just don't want to be flamed or kicked off FFnet for posting something with an inappropriate rating. ;) Thanks.
Chapter Twenty-seven: The Truths and Lies of a Sentry
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"…You're searching for truth.
You must look in the mirror,
and make sense of what you can see…"
- DJ Tiesto: Just Be
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A knock was heard on Thranduil's study door. Taidîr and a fair-haired youth strode in, their faces flushed from riding, and Thranduil dropped the quill, shut the leather book firmly and stood to receive the sentry and captain.
"My king, this is Tidurian, son of Andaer."
Tidurian bowed low to Thranduil, the curtain of silk hair falling gracefully forward before he righted himself, his face a picture of utmost dignity and solemnity.
"Tidurian, son of Andaer, I wish to question you not on any wrongdoing, but on the tragedy that transpired a month ago in the vicinity of your patrol," Thranduil stepped forward, formally addressing the young guard, his face a perfect representation of grace, tranquility, nobleness, and righteousness. No signs of the sudden and horrifying conclusion he had just made were visible upon his features. Tidurian's face paled ever so slightly at his words, but other than that he did not react.
"What is it that you wish to learn of, my lord?" Tidurian returned gracefully, meeting his king square in the eye.
"Did you see my son, Prince Legolas, and Lord Imrathon together at all on the morn of the lord's death?"
Tidurian nodded. "Yes, my lord, I did indeed."
"Did you hear them speak together in the moments before Lord Imrathon died?"
Tidurian hesitated slightly, a pause only Thranduil was quick enough to notice. "No, my lord."
Thranduil cocked his head to the side, studying the sentry intently. "You are sure, Tidurian?"
"Yes, my lord. I am sure."
Thranduil gazed at him a moment longer, his eyes boring into the youth's sparkling orbs and searching his thoughts extensively, then turned away, seemingly satisfied. "Very well then."
The Woodland King moved away, staring outside the balcony doors to the bright sky. Several long, intense minutes passed until he finally sighed wearily, and turned back to the youth. "Tidurian, you have lied to me," he stated. Tidurian's eyes widened.
"Nay, my lord, I have done no such thing!" he cried. Thranduil cut him off with a simple wave of his hand.
"Nay, I am correct. Do not argue with me, soldier!" Thranduil warned sharply, eyes flashing, when Tidurian opened his mouth to protest. The sentry flinched at the cold, commanding tone and quickly shut his mouth. Thranduil continued. "I have spoken with my son. He has stated that he spoke with Lord Imrathon, his closest friend and ally second to me, and I swear to you that I trust his word above yours. Lying is treachery, Tidurian, and it will not go unpunished in my realm. If you wish to redeem yourself, you will supply me with the truthful answers I desire and you will leave this room with no guilt upon your head. If you chose to defy me and my kingship I shall have you punished for traitorous tasks. Is this understood, Tidurian?"
Tidurian's face was as white as a sheet when the king was finished, whether by anger or fear Taidîr could not tell. "Yes, I understood perfectly well, King Thranduil," the sentry answered coldly. "But I ask you now; why are you not punishing your son when he also has committed malevolent acts? He swore me never to speak a single word of what transpired before the guards found him and the body unless I wished to die."
Thranduil turned a vivid shade of crimson, his eyes flashing angrily. "How dare you accuse Legolas of threatening someone!" he cried furiously.
"My lord, I do not lie!" Tidurian shouted at him. "Prince Legolas came to me at night and threatened me, holding a blade to my neck. I dared not move nor retaliate, for he was both a child and one of royalty, and he held a dagger, my lord!"
"You have never seen the prince, knave!" Thranduil cried, in a full-fledged rage. "Describe him if you are so certain that my son, innocent and honest, threatened you with death!"
Tidurian stared at his king. "Legolas has fair hair, my lord, like a pale gold that shimmers in the morning sunlight," he told him quietly, never breaking eye contact with the king. "He is only an Elfling, barely taller than one's knee. His face is paler than what is usual for our kind, for grief and sorrow has touched him deeply. His eyes were strange also, for they blazed red, as if a very fire burned hatred in their depths."
Thranduil's eyes widened, the angry retort dissolving on his lips as he drew in a sharp breath. He stared at Tidurian for a moment, digesting the sentry's description. They blazed red, as if a very fire burned hatred in their depths…
"His eyes…" Thranduil breathed. His own emerald orbs suddenly bored hard into Tidurian's eyes. "You said they were like fire?"
"Yes, my lord," Tidurian nodded. "And I speak the truth, this I swear to you."
"Sweet Valar, it cannot be…" Thranduil turned away, running a hand through his silky locks anxiously. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "No, it cannot be…"
Abruptly, he turned back to Tidurian. "Tell me what Imrathon and Legolas spoke of. You will not come to harm, that I assure you," he commanded swiftly. Inside, he was quaking with fear and horror, even if he did not show it now.
Tidurian thought for a long moment. "They spoke of Aman, and the desire to sail. Prince Legolas was questioning Lord Imrathon on the desire, and Lord Imrathon supplied the answer quite beautifully, although with much sorrow I will add." Thranduil felt his heart soften at the thought, and Tidurian continued on. "But then Lord Imrathon told the child that he would be leaving the next day, and the Prince began to weep. It broke my heart, and the two comforted each other, but then something strange happened."
Thranduil's eyes narrowed inquisitively, but said nothing, waiting anxiously for Tidurian to continue. The sentry did so.
"The prince suddenly fell back in pain, clutching at his chest. I drew out my bow and fitted an arrow to it, preparing to rush to defend him, but there was no enemy and there appeared to be no wound. Lord Imrathon and Legolas began to speak; Lord Imrathon asked of what ailed him. The child hastily replied that it was simply a healing scar, and nothing else. The lord asked to see it, and the prince complied hesitantly, unfastening his tunic and revealing a nasty scar. I could not see it clearly from my position, but it was a very unpleasant sight from what I was able to catch a glance of. Lord Imrathon exclaimed something about the scar; he said something to the effect of "mark of Sauron." I know of the Dark Lord and his evil deeds of the past, but I know not of what Lord Imrathon spoke of. Does that mean anything to you, my lord?"
Thranduil nodded blankly, stunned. "Go on, Tidurian," he told him softly.
"Imrathon made Legolas swear that he would tell you about it, my lord, and then he told him what it meant. 'You are under his rule, now. You must tell your father immediately!' I believe he said. He then asked him what the 'Dark Lord' did when he gave him the scar. Legolas replied tearfully that he chanted something after he was cut. Imrathon was stunned, and exclaimed something about being able to gain a body through his. It made no sense to me, my lord; I apologize if I confuse you also. But then Legolas fell back with a cry again, clutching yet again at his scar, and Imrathon tried to help him. Something caused the lord to stop, and without any warning he too fell to the ground, and began to scream. For many moments he cried, his screams sharp and desperate as he writhed in agony, before he died. Legolas collapsed anxiously over the body, crying for him to wake up and answer him, but to no avail. An arrow suddenly shot from the trees, and I immediately turned and let loose an arrow; an Orc had penetrated my patrol area when I was distracted. The next thing I know is that I am rushing to Legolas' side as other guards flock to the area, and I believe you know the rest, my king."
Thranduil nodded once, unable to speak. He remained silent and still for several moments, taking a long time to digest the information. "Thank you, Tidurian. I ask your pardon for thinking you a traitor, and hope that you will forgive a heartbroken king," he smiled thinly, meeting the sentry's eyes only to speak to him. Tidurian bowed.
"Indeed, my lord. I pray that you will forgive me also, for I have committed a treacherous act in speaking wrongly of the events that have transpired in the beginning. Although I do wish to learn what caused Prince Legolas to act against me as he did. Why is it that he held a knife to my throat? I knew not that your child was schooled in the arts of combat already, for he seemed very agile and wise in the ways of disposing a foe."
"That, I am afraid, I will not disclose to you," the king said with a gentle smile. "I am sure you understand the reason why I would wish to play things closer to the vest, yes?"
Tidurian nodded, a disappointed frown upon his lips, but smiled at his king nonetheless. "Indeed, my lord."
"I thank you again, Tidurian, son of Andaer. You and Lord Taidîr may leave now."
Taidîr and Tidurian bowed and left quickly. As soon as the door had shut, Thranduil collapsed to his knees with a gasp.
"Sweet Valar…" he breathed, shutting his eyes tightly and pressing a hand to his face. "Oh Ilúvatar…I never knew…"
Tears stung the king's beautiful emerald eyes as he realized what truly this all meant.
Legolas had clutched at his chest this morning in apparently the same way he had months ago on the morn of Imrathon's death. But Valar, the mark upon his chest remains still? How did I never notice? I shall check him later, when he sleeps.
But now, the truth behind my dear friend's death has been revealed. But the convulsions, and the screams, it seems so familiar……but it could not be. It could not be the same seizures he suffered when Legolas was in Dol Guldar…it is not possible. But yet, I have said the same to many events and they all have been proven against me. Valar, what is happening to us? Do you truly want to see us all suffer and die before Sauron? Is this what you wished to happen?
'To gain a body through his…' Tidurian said.
This morning, when Sauron was controlling Legolas' body…
They could not connect. They cannot! I will not let it happen! Legolas cannot be controlled and ruled by Sauron! No! I will die if my child is truly being controlled by the enemy! Valar, no…please, let it not be true…let him be safe…I beg you, do not sacrifice the innocent to the enemy. Take me, a cold-hearted king who has lost everything worth losing in his life instead. Do not make the innocent suffer, please, I beg you.
Realizing that the only way he could know if it was true or not, Thranduil darted down the corridor, slipping silently into Legolas' dim bedroom. The child lay still, sleeping soundly out of exhaustion and healing. Daernesta looked up from the tablet he had been studying in the corner when Thranduil walked in, nodded in salutation, and continued once more to study, leaving the king to his privacy.
Thranduil strode forward and gently lowered himself down upon the bed, reaching out cautiously to unfasten the boy's tunic. And when he was finally able to part the beautiful cloth, he saw the scar.
Gasping at the horrible sight of it, he reached out tentatively to touch the scar. When his hands brushed the scorched, rough skin on the breast bone, there was a sudden sharp, icy feeling that seemingly burned Thranduil, and he recoiled. There was a flash of light, and he saw red eyes gleaming from the darkness before they faded away and melted back into the forms of his child and bedroom.
Stifling a gasp, the Woodland King refastened the tunic and stood warily. He watched as his son shifted in his sleep, a weary sigh escaping his lips as he settled deeper into the realm of dreams. Thranduil's hand brushed something suddenly as he adjusted and fluffed the pillow, and reaching beneath it he withdrew a well-worn and crumpled piece of parchment. He did not recognize the make, for it appeared coarse, rough and everything unlike the parchment he used himself. Unfolding it with a frown, the king soon saw what was written on it.
You have been warned.
Beneath was a crude symbol, much like an eye.
With a sharp intake of breath he let it drop to the bed. The mark was the same make that Legolas bore upon his chest.
For the love of Ilúvatar…
Tears glistened in the king's eyes as his heart clenched tightly, feeling all hope rush out of him in one silent tear that slipped down his fair cheek. He knew that he could perhaps still help Legolas, that he could protect him, but only if he stayed alive. With the Valar as witness, Thranduil swore that he would not let Legolas try to harm him, because he knew that if he perished, his son had no chance at all.
TBC
