Perhaps he ought not to be blatantly listening in to his King's tirade, but Kalin had no qualms about it. Always armed, even in the relative safety of the Elvenking's halls, the sentry palmed the pommel of his sword. He loved and admired his King like the rest of his kith, but as he listened to Thranduil ranting at Legolas, Kalin realized he was also growing to abhor his liege. The thick stone walls and equally thick wooden slab door were specifically designed to block sounds from entering or escaping the King's study, such that even with his keen hearing, Kalin couldn't catch all said; at least, not until Thranduil began shouting. From what he could tell, Thranduil was upset over some prank Legolas had pulled.
Kalin knew just of what the King spoke. During one of his lessons the day before, Legolas had poured a little of the ink from his inkpot into his teacher's tea while the instructor was distracted. His teacher, a kind old Elf who loved the Prince like a son and who had only laughed after seeing his tea black with ink, had not told on the laegel but merely joked with the young Elf about it. No, Kalin knew it had been Ninan to tell the King of his son's silly prank. It was a trick, one harming no one, and one making the Prince's teacher laugh, but Ninan, who seemed to learn every bit of gossip concerning Legolas, had relayed the story to the King. It was not vindictiveness to have made Ninan tell their sovereign, but an overinflated sense of duty to report all things related to the Prince. And now, likely not out of true anger for the prank but because he would use any excuse to beleaguer his son, Thranduil fulminated at Legolas over it today.
The Prince is little more than a child, Kalin complained acerbically, wishing he had the gall to enter the room and shout to Thranduil what he thought to himself. You cannot hold him at fault for sometimes acting like one!
He listened for the telltale sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Elves rarely beat their children for discipline as the Edain were wont to do – or so Kalin had heard of the humans – but the sentry knew Oropher had used corporeal punishment upon Thranduil as he grew. It might have turned Thranduil into a fine Elf and a great King, but Kalin feared these beatings would only break down the Prince, for Legolas had his mother's tender heart; in fact, the thrashings seemed already to be breaking Legolas' spirit. Before the Queen's death – at least, as far as Kalin knew – the King had never hit the Prince. He had often shouted at him but had never struck the young Silvan, for the Queen would never have allowed it. Now, since the Queen was gone, her faer in Mandos' care, there was no one to calm the frequently tyrannical King as had the Queen done, and Legolas was too young and innocent, and too loving and respectful of his father to stand up to him.
Rubbing his forehead as a sharp pain began to erupt behind his eyes, a consummately frustrated Kalin listened to Thranduil now berate Legolas for his friendship with the Noldorin twins, Elladan and Elrohir, who the King blamed for his son's propensity for tomfoolery. In this, at least, Thranduil had the right of it. Not out of spite but only in typically endearing mischief, the sons of Elrond were pranksters through and through. As had Legolas done to his teacher in his silly prank, the twins often did to many of the residents of Imladris. Over the years, the two identical brothers had definitely changed the Prince – for the better, in Kalin's thinking. Because of his friendship with Elladan and Elrohir, the shy, reserved, and almost fearful Elfling Prince had become outgoing, witty, and brave amongst his peers. Of course, Thranduil only saw how his once cowed son was now disobedient.
I think Thranduil must hate how Legolas has found true friends, when Thranduil has no one but arse-lickers and greedy advisors around him, Kalin thought uncharitably of his King. He began pacing along the wall in the corridor but was startled to a halt when he heard his Prince's soft, pain filled, surprised yelp. The sentry walked to the door and put his hand upon the knob before he stopped himself. Fool, if you go in there, your King will have your head, and then Legolas will have no one trustworthy to look after him. The sentry ignored the contrary voice of his conscience telling him that by not going in there, he in fact was not looking after his charge.
Pressing his ear against the door while looking towards the hall's entrance to be certain none of the other guards would see him eavesdropping, Kalin tried to hear what his Prince was saying. Just barely, he could discern Legolas' words. As did he always, Legolas apologized to his father. Wholeheartedly but confusedly, the Prince sought from Thranduil absolution for his wrongs, and while the King never seemed to forgive or forget, Legolas never seemed to understand what he had truly done to earn his father's anger. Now, Kalin heard as Thranduil's voice became unnervingly soft and gentle. His words were sugared poison, though, for the Elvenking blamed Legolas for having made his father lose his temper and thus causing the new bruises the Prince would likely have, when in truth, there was little to nothing Legolas could do to prevent bearing the brunt of his King's baffling wrath.
When Thranduil bid Legolas to leave, Kalin hurriedly moved away from the door and walked a bit down the hall. He did not wish to wound his Prince's pride by letting Legolas know he had listened in to the very private, mordant chastisement the young Silvan endured. With his head down, the Prince walked without and shut the door to his father's study behind him. To most, Legolas might have appeared no different than he had looked upon walking into his father's study, but Kalin knew his Prince better than he knew anyone; moreover, he believed he knew Legolas better than anyone else knew his Prince. The young Silvan cradled his arm to his side, across his ribs, while his lips were pressed tightly together, and his eyes were rimmed with red, as if he might weep.
Kalin did not ask if Legolas were okay. The Elvenking might overhear him. He walked to his Prince and offered his company as solace. When the young Elf did not move but only stood there, his gaze upon the carpeted floor underfoot, the sentry offered in hopes of distracting Legolas from his melancholy, "Do you wish to practice your archery now, my Prince? If you wait in the great hall, I will go fetch your bow and quiver for you."
Not speaking or looking at Kalin, Legolas only shook his head. From the way he held his arm to his side, the laegel might not be able to practice, the sentry surmised. Rage flooded Kalin's mind, leaving no room for rational thought. He would never actually do so, or so he thought, but Kalin wanted nothing more than to storm into Thranduil's study and give the Elvenking a piece of his mind. The only activity capable of bringing Legolas joy recently was practicing his archery; now, the King had taken away from the Prince the sole diversion from his sorrow, even if only temporarily.
Warily, Legolas glanced down the hall to where the King's sentinels guarded the entryway. Kalin knew at once what he was pondering – the Elf was injured and on the verge of tears. He did not want witnesses to his shame. And so, Kalin suggested to his charge, "Let's walk up the back staircase, shall we?"
Still not looking at Kalin, the younger Silvan nodded readily and walked with Kalin farther into the King's apartments. The sentry took up an unlit oil lamp upon a nearby table, lit it with a candle from the candelabrum on the wall, and then pushed aside an elaborate tapestry depicting a Balrog fighting the soldiers of Gondolin, which hid the entrance to the secret staircase. In the Elvenking's halls were many such strange openings and corridors. This one in particular was carved into the mountain to give the King a way to escape should he have need of it. It ran up the entire fortress to the very top, had no airshaft or windows and so smelled fusty and stale. While the staircase's landings held doors leading out into various nooks and recesses in otherwise inconspicuous places of the palace, almost all of the doors were made in such a way so one could exit the clandestine stairwell via these doors but not open the doors to enter it – all were kept tightly closed save for a single egress, which led into the floor right above the King's rooms, where the royal guards dwelled.
Guiding the way with his lamp, Kalin ambled deliberately up the steps. He did not know how badly Legolas was hurt and so did not want his Prince to overexert himself. Up they went, past the open door to the guards' barracks, past several shut doors and a few dim, musty halls eventually leading to other secret doors for various floors of the fortress, until they came to the top. Over their head was a small rope ladder, which could be pulled down. If they had climbed it, they would have found themselves out upon the side of the very mountain in which the Elvenking's halls were fashioned. Instead, though, they followed a long, very narrow, winding, inclining hallway running the length of the fortress from its utmost rear nearly to its very front. Kalin opened the only door inside this corridor. He walked through, pushing aside another tapestry – this one depicting the Greenwood at night, with an inky but starry sky over a lush forest of green – and held the hanging aside for Legolas to walk under; once through, the portal shut behind them and locked with an audible click, with the door being so well made it fit into the wall imperceptibly. Only one who knew of the door's existence and knew how to access its hidden handle could have opened it, but even still, Kalin made sure it was secure before settling the tapestry back into place and escorting his quiet Prince across the small hallway.
This was the very vestibule in which the door to Kalin's room was located, with the only other egress eventuating into the corridor in which the Prince's chambers were found. The Silvan Queen had never been fond of spending her time in the bowels of the mountain but had chosen to keep her quarters away from her beloved husband so she could be close to the open sky and able to see the forest from her library's balcony. Of course, she had also needed a way to flee should the fortress come under siege, and the postern from which the two Silvan exited had been her potential means of escape.
Kalin extinguished the lamp as they arrived at the young Wood-Elf's bedroom. The dutiful sentry opened the door for his Prince and then watched Legolas as he entered. His charge walked into the bedchambers and gingerly sat back down upon the floor, just where he had been when earlier Kalin found him. Legolas picked up his rag and bow as if to restart his task of burnishing his weapon, but once he had them in his hands, Legolas only stared at them, his face downcast. The joy he displayed earlier to be caring for his newly gifted bow was absent, leaving behind only a facsimile of the carefree Prince whom Kalin had grown to love beyond all reason.
In a strange way, Kalin realized he was proud of his Prince. Legolas was clearly upset and injured, but had made it all the way to his rooms without complaint of discomfort or showing his sorrow. Even now, in his rooms and safe from being seen by anyone save his sentry, the Prince did not wail or sob like a child, as would most young Elves if they had just been scolded and beaten by their father. Several tears trailed down Legolas' placid face, though. Kalin could hardly fault him given the circumstances – not that he would have anyway, not even if Legolas had flung himself onto his bed and bawled like an Elfling. Having just lost his mother in one of the most unimaginably horrid ways possible, having been turned upon by his father, who showed the grieving young Elf no sympathy or care like a good Ada ought to have, and, save for the Noldorin twins who were across the Misty Mountains, having no friends to whom he could tell his worries over his father, since doing so to any of his Silvan friends would risk his King finding out or ruining the King's reputation for being a just and noble sovereign, Legolas looked lonely sitting there under the window.
Kalin felt like sitting beside his Prince to weep, as well.
The elder Wood-Elf stood at the door in indecision. Legolas was an adult – if only just barely – and he was the Prince, which meant a mere sentry had no place inserting himself into the Silvan's affairs. Moreover, he imagined Legolas might wish to be alone. And yet, when the young Elf absently went to douse his rag in the unguent but in doing so twisted his injured torso, and thus dropped the cloth to grab at his aching side, Kalin forgot his dithering and straightaway went to his charge.
He dropped to his knees beside Legolas, asking him, "What is it, my Prince? How badly are you hurt?"
Shamefaced, the laegel tried to hide his pain under a false grin and prevaricated by evading telling the whole truth in saying, "It's nothing. I fell into Ada's desk and hit my ribs."
Once more, to save his Prince's pride, Kalin did not intend to point out that while the young Elf might truly have hit his ribs against his father's desk, Kalin knew Legolas had not fallen of his own accord. Nonetheless, his skepticism must have shown upon his face, for the Prince looked away in heightened humiliation. Kalin tried to gather the courage to ask the young Elf to show him his torso so he could assess the damage done when suddenly Legolas asked his sentry with uncharacteristic bluntness, "Why does Ada hate me, Kalin? What have I done?"
Adjusting his sword's scabbard from the way, Kalin settled cross-legged on the floor beside his Prince, just as was Legolas sitting, while various answers flew through his mind. He rejected each one. He did not wish to lie to his Prince or offer him fabricated counsel. In the end, the sentry replied sadly but honestly, "I do not know."
Gathering his legs to his chest, which he then hugged, the Prince nodded at this candid answer. He then asked instead, "Do you think he wishes I had died rather than Naneth?"
He often wondered if this was the case and was staggered to hear Legolas had thought of it, as well, for it showed the dire depths to which Thranduil's behavior had driven the young Elf's thinking. Again, though, Kalin had no answers except to admit, "I do not know, my Prince."
"Sometimes I hate him," the Prince confessed quietly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. Legolas distractedly ran his fingertips around the glistening edge of the ceramic jar of unguent. "Sometimes, I wish it. Sometimes I wish he had died instead of Naneth. I wish he were dead and Naneth still alive."
Unthinkingly, Kalin glanced in fearful shock to the closed doorway. His Prince bordered on sedition. If anyone overheard what Legolas said, Thranduil's recent violence would be a drop in the bucket in comparison to what he would do to his son for his treasonous, childish wish for his King to have died. His heart hammering against his chest in fright for his Prince, Kalin turned back to Legolas with dismay apparent upon his face. Upon seeing his sentry's sudden worry and realizing he had said aloud what he had heretofore only thought, Legolas looked horrified, as well, and for much the same reason.
"I'm sorry," the Prince said at once. "I'm sorry, Kalin." Unsure of why his Prince was apologizing to him, Kalin tried to interrupt his charge's fraught discourse but failed because the Elf only began to speak louder and faster. "I'm sorry. Please, Kalin," his beloved Prince begged, something the sentry had never before known Legolas to do save for when he was a child, pleading for more time to play in the woods or for another story ere bedtime. "I didn't mean it," the young Silvan lied, grimacing at the bitter taste of his own dishonesty. "Please don't tell him what I said."
New tears flowing now, though these were from fright rather than unhappiness, Legolas grabbed a tight hold of Kalin's arm, intent upon keeping his sentry from running out of the room straight to Thranduil to tell the King of what the Prince had said. And perhaps he did think this might happen, since his every move or word was reported to Thranduil eventually, mostly by Ninan.
Before the sentry could get a word in to the contrary, with his face ghostly pale except for two slashes of disgraced pink upon his high cheekbones, Legolas continued to beseech, "I was only mad. Please don't tell him."
Gently, the sentry pulled his Prince's hand free of his arm, held it between his own, and swore to his charge, "Never. I will never tell him or anyone, Legolas." Rarely did the sentry use the younger Silvan's name, and hearing it now seemed to reassure the Prince how Kalin was not lying more than did Kalin's actual oath assure him. "You can trust me to keep your secrets, I promise, but please – be wary of saying such things. If someone else overheard you…" the sentry began but did not have the heart to finish. Legolas knew the consequences already.
The laegel was not yet appeased, though. With misgiving, he pulled his hand free of Kalin's hold, rewrapped his arms around his legs as if hugging himself, and then twisted his fingers tightly in the cloth of his trousers. "But you are the King's guard. Just like all the other sentries. Who are just like all the servants. They all adore him. They don't know him like I do," the young Elf said. "None of you do. You all think he is a wonderful, kind, and caring King, when really he is mean, selfish, and cruel."
His eyes growing wide as he realized he had now criticized his father, the Prince rapidly made to apologize again, to implore Kalin to remain quiet once more.
However, both the sentry and Prince startled fiercely as they were interrupted by a loud, insistent knock upon the door, followed immediately by Ninan calling out, "Your Highness?"
Sweet Varda, Kalin cursed to himself, his pounding heart now skittering as quickly as a hummingbird's wings. Having just told the Prince not to speak in such a way lest someone were to overhear him, there could not have been a worse visitor to the laegel's chambers than his current one.