The day wound down eventually. Finally. I escaped the king's Great Hall
on the pretense of preparing for the magnificent feast that was to be held
in my honor that night. As the sun crept through the sky, tracing an
infuriatingly slow path in its descent, my mind was not entirely on the
matters of Mirkwood and the dangers creeping forth out of Mordor. No, my
focus was back with the little elfling who had been all wide-eyed fear and
cringing. It hurt for me to see someone so small in such pain, and the
knowledge that more was intended for him before the feast tonight
completely stripped away any appetite I might have for anything provided by
Mirkwood's king.
I had a few hours to myself, and I intended to make good use of them. Making good my escape, I traveled quickly upward through the stone corridors of the underground fortress. Instinct was telling me to seek what remained of the light and to seek the forest also, where rulers and their counselors might not go. I strode out through the lower levels and finally reached one of the exits to this underground fortress.
Without slowing my pace, I raised my hood against the rain that was falling. The east gate called to me, regardless it was barred. A shift of the hinge and a protest of metal and I was through it, unchallenged. I supposed that if a guest -- especially a wizard known to be a bit odd -- wanted to walk in the rain, no one would stop him. Indeed, I don't think anyone even noticed my passing. [That is surely a very good thing,] I thought.
Pausing on the edge of the road, I surveyed the thick forest surrounding Thranduil's keep. It was big, while my quarry was small and frightened. This search could take much more time than I had to devote to it at the moment. [If I were a little elf, where would I go?] I asked the wind and the small creatures living in the trees. [Do you know where your friend is?]
Their minds met mine and cheerfully informed me. I stepped onto a path that I never would have known was there, had they not told me. Circling the outer wall, it was choked with overgrowth. I pushed slowly down it, and the path soon cleared somewhat to reveal a mighty oak, sheltering and protective. I could sense another life joined to the tree's, nestled safe in her arms and deep within her heart.
Unfortunately, I was not the only one approaching the sanctuary. There must have been another gate and another path, one known and used by the king's minders, for Galion stalked up to the big oak from the other side. His expression was stern and irritated, his stance was rigid. Shaking off the rain, he reached up into the tree and yanked.
A shriek and a crash, and Legolas fell at Galion's feet.
"Your father wants you. Get up," Galion snarled, prodding the child with his toe.
The boy seemed dazed, but tried to comply. Sitting up, he began to stand, only to be caught by the arm and wrenched upright. Life returned to Legolas in a rush. Twisting away from the biting grip, he escaped the hand that held him and managed to take half a step in flight before the elf's fingers closed in his hair and rocked him backward.
"I do not appreciate your running me down in the halls," Galion muttered into the boy's ear. "Even less to I appreciate being drawn out into the wet to search for a worthless little creature like you. How it is that your father sired such a dreadful child is quite beyond my understanding."
Closing his eyes, Legolas shivered and let the elf do as he would. Cold rain ran in rivulets into the child's eyes as he endured.
"Go!" the elf growled, shoving the child forward. He staggered and recoiled from the contact, but Galion easily locked his hand around the thin upper arm of the child, yanking him forward. "Your father awaits you, and I would not have his anger turn my way because of you. Now walk, or must I encourage you?"
Legolas made a feeble effort to pull away, and his resistance was rewarded with a stinging slap that encompassed both his cheek and tender ear. He cried out, his free hand rising to cover the reddening ear, but Galior yanked him forward again and encouraged him to move faster with another slap to the lower back and a third across his small hips. The boy stumbled forward without further protests, being sped along with another yank. Raising his arm, Galion aimed his next blow at his victim's small backside.
The last blow never fell, for Galion's hand was suddenly engulfed in a powerful, painful, and quite invisible grip. It was now his turn to exclaim in pain and surprise.
"Enough," I growled, stepping from the concealing shadows and wrapping my very physical fingers around the elf's other wrist.
He cried out as I squeezed sensitive tendons, forcing him to release Legolas. Recoiling, Galion looked affronted and rubbed his assaulted wrist.
Going down on my knees, I slid my hands over Legolas's narrow shoulders and firmly pulled him back against me before fixing my gaze on the aide above me. I made a bold statement out of drawing the child into the shelter of my cloak, daring his captor to make another grab for him. Conversely, it prevented the equally dismaying possibility that the child might take flight. Legolas's small hand crept up to cover his ear again, but otherwise he made no protest.
"Master Wizard, you are a guest in this hall, but you overstep yourself now. I am to take this child inside. His father… King Thranduil wishes to have words with his son."
"You'll not be taking this child to his father tonight."
Galion gaped at me, incredulous. "But the king has ordered--"
"I heard what the king ordered. I understand what manner of words he wishes to share with the child, as well. Legolas will not be taken to him tonight."
"Master Wizard, it will not go well for me if I do not deliver the boy, and immediately!"
"Tell him the child cannot be found."
"I will not!" Galion drew himself up and sniffed, wiped his face of the rain and glowered at Legolas, who turned his face and hid against me. "I know every nook and cranny in which the little brat hides. I can smell him out, and the king knows it. I've been forced to track him down and play nursemaid for far too long for him to evade me so easily."
"Then tell your king that I found his son first, and that Legolas is staying with me." My tone remained reasonable and calm, making the elf's outrage seem quite undignified.
Galion sputtered and stared, but offered no further coherant arguments. Legolas trembled against me, whether from terror of his father or fear of me, I could not tell. The small fingers of one hand bunched in the rough material of my robe, while the other still guarded his stinging ear. I dared to rub his back in what I hoped was a comforting gesture, but Legolas only tensed. So I settled for cradling his small body against me and waited for Galion's response.
"This will not do, but on your head be it, Mithrandir," he grumbled. "I will not insult a guest with further arguments, but I will report this to my king. No doubt he will want to deal with your meddling in his business. You do your cause no service, wizard, nor will it spare that child what is due him." Glowering at Legolas one last time, Galion spun on his heels and stalked off through the leaves.
"It will be all right," I murmured, running the palm of my hand over the boy's wet hair. He smelled of earth and rain and moved closer to me, twisting under my hand as if burrowing against me might make me stop touching him. I drew back slightly but did not relinquish my hold. "Have you eaten today?"
He stared at the ground, still shivering, but made no reply.
"Have you?" I asked cheerfully, as though the unpleasant scene from moments before had never happened. "Was that your stomach I heard growling?" I smiled and poked my forefinger gently at his small belly.
He considered matters a moment. Eventually, he shook his head. Fair enough.
"Then finding you some supper shall be the first order of our evening. Will you come with me to do that, little leaf?"
I plucked a small, damp oak leaf out of his hair. He tensed at the touch, then watched it drift to the forest floor. His eyes lifted warily to meet mine, but his chin did not come up, and he still kept one hand cupped over his abused ear. I could see the reddened tip through his fingers. The blow must have hurt badly.
"We'll go in through the kitchens," I reassured, smiling at him again, "so that you do not have to meet your father's courtiers. How does that sound?"
A nod. Other than that, Legolas didn't move.
The rain pattered harder around us, and I wondered if I should wrap the child up and carry him in a belated attempt to protect him from the rain. Given his skittishness and mistrust, it seemed a foolish notion, so that I decided not to even try it. Releasing him, I stood slowly, carefully. It wouldn't do to make any sudden moves and lose him now to the darkening forest.
"Will you show me the safest entrance, then?"
Whirling, he stared and backed away from me before heading off with what must have been his usual speed. Darting through the leaves and into the concealing shadows, he paused a few feet away and cast a glance over his shoulder. So he didn't mean to lose me after all?
I followed at a more sedate pace, setting the vines and branches out of my way, smiling and indicating that I could keep up, after a fashion. I fully expected him to leave me behind, in which case I'd just have to ask the forest for help in finding him again. [We could be at this all night,] came the thought.
I hoped not.
A measure of trust must have been created between us, or perhaps Legolas just wanted his supper. In any event, he led me to an overgrown narrow gate, rusted closed and half off of its hinges. He was able to slip through it, but I was not.
I fingered my moustache and frowned at the sagging metal while Legolas waited in silent, still observation on the other side of the gate. He seemed to not notice the rain, just pushed impatiently at the wet hair falling into his eyes and staring at me as if he expected me to float over the obstruction. I gave the gate a tentative pull, but its resistance spoke of years in that position.
"Well, there's nothing for it."
Heaving a great sigh, I set my sights on the low wall beside the gate. Grumbling and grousing, I gathered my robes and found toeholds in the old stone. Climbing up and then over, I found safe footing on solid ground once more, turned about, and found that the little elf was watching me with obvious amusement.
"You didn't think I could do that, did you?"
A shrug. He pointed at my robes. I gathered that he felt climbing in long robes and a cloak was not a clever thing to do. If anything, his shy smile grew into a fleeting grin. The grin, I noted, was missing two front teeth. Replacements hadn't begun to grow in yet, which would make the little leaf about... yes, about twelve, I calculated, which would be the equivalent of about six years of age for a Man-child.
This little leaf was very young. He was also small for his age, but far from stupid. I had already sensed a keen intelligence behind those eyes and an iron will to survive. I now added a sense of humor to the list.
"Lead on." Stepping forward, I gestured and was gratified to see that Legolas did not cringe from my touch. Rather, he chose to walk a few paces before me, heading for the castle proper and a hint of light and warmth in the stones that turned out to be the kitchen.
My companion stopped at the edge of the preparation area, determined not to take one step further into that center of activity. I, however, as the guest of honor, had no such hesitations, and I swept my newfound friend into the kitchen with me. Uncomfortable as he might be with this situation, I would not let him out of my sight for a moment, lest it give someone the opportunity to reclaim him.
"I wish two trenchers of food be brought to my chamber, along with a jug of milk and some wine."
No one questioned my orders, but they did stare at the child accompanying me. Legolas all but shrank away from the sniffy cook and his assistants and tried to hide behind me. I filed that information away before lifting the edge of my cloak and casually draping it over him, which served to hide at least some of him. Perhaps it would serve to make him feel a little more secure. Leaning down, I whispered into his ear.
"Doesn't seem a very friendly place, does it? Come, we'll find somewhere more hospitable to eat."
Ushering him away from that hive of activity, I led him through the stone corridors to my chamber. He followed, but his steps seemed to drag slower and slower the closer we got, until by the time we reached the room he was trailing several steps behind me. Pushing open the heavy hewn door, I gestured him through it.
"They'll bring the food here, Legolas, and we'll be able to eat in peace. No one will come, no one will yell. No one will hurt you in here."
He stopped dead in the corridor and eyed the open door. His small shoulders tensed, and he looked from me to the room beyond. For a moment, I thought that he was going to bolt.
Busying myself with peeling off my heavy, damp cloak, I watched him anxiously from the corner of my eye. "The food smelled good back there, didn't it? I expect that they'll bring something nice. Warm, too. I've been traveling and eating bread and hard cheese for days, so something warm will be quite a treat for me."
Between my casual manner and the promise of a warm meal, Legolas seemed to overcome some of his hesitation. He took a step forward, then another, and another until finally, with a bit of weaving and agitation, he gathered the courage to cross the threshold itself. Standing inside the room, he stared up at me with huge eyes.
[What does he think I'll do to him?] I wondered.
Sounds from the corridor indicated the arrival of the meal, along with those bearing it. That was enough to send the little elf skittering further into the room and behind the chair over which I'd draped the cloak.
The food arrived then, great trenchers of it, along with the requested libations. I thanked the servants who brought it, closed the door behind them, and barred it. When I turned back, it was to see that Legolas's eyes had gone huge. Stark fear shone in them, and he was now standing with his back firmly against the far wall.
It was obvious that he felt trapped. From the way his eyes kept flickering from me to the door and back, it was equally obvious that he wanted out. Turning to the door, I laid a hand on it and whispered to the wood. No small elven hands would be able to open it; it would remain closed until I removed the words of power binding it. No small little elf would be able to escape my watch-care in the night.
"The food smells good, don't you think?" Pulling a chair up to the table, I leaned down to retrieve two thick historical tomes borrowed from Thranduil's library. Placing them on the chair, I then found utensils to set beside a trencher, poured out a mug of milk and set it close by.
Pouring myself a mug of wine, I turned away from the table, lit a small fire, and settled into the chair before it. Pulling out my pipe, I prepared and lit it.
"I'll have dinner later, if that's all right with you," I offered softly. "If it pleases you to eat now, please feel free to do so."
He didn't move from his place against the wall, and I didn't offer any further conversation. Puffing quietly, I stared at the fire and stole glances at Legolas from the corner of my eye. At first, nothing happened. I smoked, he hovered in the shadows, and that was that. It was as I was contemplating refilling both pipe and mug that I heard, or rather sensed, some slight movement behind me.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as he sidled closer to the table, his gaze never leaving me. I drew on my now-empty pipe, and did not move. Snatching a bit of bread, he backed away and gauged my reaction to his daring. Draining the last drops of my wine, I stared at the fire.
"I wish you'd sit down and eat, child," I murmured. "That's what the food is there for."
Suspicion warred with hunger for another long moment, and I took the time to refill my pipe. Legolas stayed by the table, caught in indecision.
I rose slowly, moved slowly, and reached even more slowly to the wine. I poured it into the mug carefully, returned the beaker to the table, and turned away. And then I turned back, startling him into a two-step retreat. Smiling, I pointed at the chair.
"Sit and eat, little leaf. That plate is for you."
I returned to my place by the fire. Eyes still on me, he climbed carefully up onto the chair.
He ate quickly and quietly behind me while I blew smoke-rings. Rings were simple and mastered long ago. Ships, however, took a bit of extra effort, and so I set to practicing them. All sounds of eating ceased behind me; he was surely watching me. So smoke-ships interested him, did they? Let us see what else an old wizard could come up with.
It took several failed attempts, but I soon had a winged dragon wafting toward the hearth, only to dissolve against the stones. A gasp sounded behind me, and I dared to turn my head.
"Dragonth!" he murmured. His missing front teeth made him lisp, and his bright eyes were entirely focused on the smoke-creature that was already fading quickly.
It was the first word I'd heard him speak, and I smiled with this success. "Have you ever seen a dragon, Legolas?"
A shake of the head, which sent long hair flying everywhere. He waited for me to resume puffing on my pipe before taking another bite of food.
"Let's see if I can't create another one for you then, hmm?"
I sent the next one out over the table, directly toward him. Scarcely breathing, Legolas watched it come. It seemed to head directly for his face, though I'd not intended it to, and the boy reached up as though to ward the creature off. The dragon flew through his fingers, dissolving into wisps of smoke upon contact. He stared in amazement as the smoke dissipated, then turned his astonished gaze upon his own small fingers that had banished the dragon.
I eyed the trencher before him and noted that he'd eaten a good portion. Falling into silence, I waited for time to pass and the surge of adrenaline to clear his small body. I continued with smoke rings and ships and other unidentifiable smoky failures, and eventually my patience was rewarded when he folded his arms against the table, lowered his head, and began nodding off. A few more minutes, and he stopped fighting sleep. He stopped raising his head to peer at me, as if to ensure that I hadn't moved, that I wasn't going to transform into a dragon myself and come at him, roaring loudly and breathing flame in addition to smoke.
His eyes closed, his breathing deepened. I rose carefully from the chair and moved over him. Murmuring another spell, I deepened his sleep, then lifted his thin body out of the chair. Laying the child on the bed, I gathered a towel and a basin, poured hot water into it from the kettle over the fire, and proceeded to clean him up as best I could with such limited means.
I swiped at the grime on his face, moving carefully over the faded handprint and the blue ghosting of a new bruise across his cheekbone. Removing his jerkin, I attempted to remove the dirt on his chest and arms. Over and over, I wiped at the stubborn smears, which refused all of my efforts to remove them. The dirt covered his small chest as smudges covered his arms. The smudges were darker at his wrists, and I sat down hard on the edge of the bed when I realized how wrong I'd been in my assumptions.
It wasn't dirt, it was bruising. My hands shook as rolled Legolas over gently, the better to examine his back. There were even more smudges and shadows there, disappearing into the ragged leggings that covered the rest of his small, vulnerable body. I removed his boots and wet leggings to find similar marks. I discovered that one of his thin arms held heat when I touched him to shift his position again. I backtracked to run my hand down it, then turned his arm between my hands to have a closer look.
Legolas whimpered and shifted in his sleep at the contact. Laying my hand across his narrow back, I soothed him deeper into slumber before reaching for a candle, the better to see in the gloom.
His wrists, back and arms had borne the brunt of the damage. The dark circles at his wrists spoke of old yankings as well as new – a few of which I'd personally witnessed. His left elbow was swollen. Running my fingers over muscle and bone, I felt the misalignment easily and swore softly in Dwarvish.
It was easy enough to reset the bones. Gathering the child into my arms, I turned his thumb toward his torso and slowly folded his arm toward his shoulder and felt the soft click of the joint reseating itself. My power could set the rest of this to rights as well, could heal his injuries overnight, almost, but what of the morrow? What of the next time his father or Galion, or only the Valar knew whom, got their hands on Legolas? As horrified as I was at his treatment today, I knew that his tomorrow would be much worse, and worse for days beyond that because of my interference this night.
Anger surged within me, as well as determination. [There will be no next time.]
I could not put wet clothing back on the boy, so I tucked him warm beneath the covers and hung the garments at the fire to dry. By then, my course was decided and my path was set. I had planned to stay a few weeks at Mirkwood, acquainting myself with the king and his court. I needed to continue familiarizing myself with the problems that needed addressed in this corner of Middle Earth.
I was ever conscious of the threat that seemed to be growing in Mordor and knew all too well that darkness was creeping closer to Thranduil's borders. There was the not insignificant threat of Dol Goldur, well within these borders, and I'd yet to get a comprehensive report on the goings-on there. There was much for me to do, and I was in Middle Earth to serve the many, not the few, and certainly not the very particular needs of one very small prince.
None of that mattered anymore. Not this night. Not when I was sitting in Thranduil's palace, had enjoyed his hospitality, and had realized that he was physically abusing his youngest son. I didn't bother to ask the gods why; there was no why, there was only the need to remove Legolas from this place and these people.
This, I would do -- tonight, if possible. Where I would take him, I didn't yet know. Only one thing was certain; the power of the Istari would be brought to bear to keep Legolas safe, and no one would ever lay hands on him like that again. From now until the end of his days, this elf would have me to look after him.
I had a few hours to myself, and I intended to make good use of them. Making good my escape, I traveled quickly upward through the stone corridors of the underground fortress. Instinct was telling me to seek what remained of the light and to seek the forest also, where rulers and their counselors might not go. I strode out through the lower levels and finally reached one of the exits to this underground fortress.
Without slowing my pace, I raised my hood against the rain that was falling. The east gate called to me, regardless it was barred. A shift of the hinge and a protest of metal and I was through it, unchallenged. I supposed that if a guest -- especially a wizard known to be a bit odd -- wanted to walk in the rain, no one would stop him. Indeed, I don't think anyone even noticed my passing. [That is surely a very good thing,] I thought.
Pausing on the edge of the road, I surveyed the thick forest surrounding Thranduil's keep. It was big, while my quarry was small and frightened. This search could take much more time than I had to devote to it at the moment. [If I were a little elf, where would I go?] I asked the wind and the small creatures living in the trees. [Do you know where your friend is?]
Their minds met mine and cheerfully informed me. I stepped onto a path that I never would have known was there, had they not told me. Circling the outer wall, it was choked with overgrowth. I pushed slowly down it, and the path soon cleared somewhat to reveal a mighty oak, sheltering and protective. I could sense another life joined to the tree's, nestled safe in her arms and deep within her heart.
Unfortunately, I was not the only one approaching the sanctuary. There must have been another gate and another path, one known and used by the king's minders, for Galion stalked up to the big oak from the other side. His expression was stern and irritated, his stance was rigid. Shaking off the rain, he reached up into the tree and yanked.
A shriek and a crash, and Legolas fell at Galion's feet.
"Your father wants you. Get up," Galion snarled, prodding the child with his toe.
The boy seemed dazed, but tried to comply. Sitting up, he began to stand, only to be caught by the arm and wrenched upright. Life returned to Legolas in a rush. Twisting away from the biting grip, he escaped the hand that held him and managed to take half a step in flight before the elf's fingers closed in his hair and rocked him backward.
"I do not appreciate your running me down in the halls," Galion muttered into the boy's ear. "Even less to I appreciate being drawn out into the wet to search for a worthless little creature like you. How it is that your father sired such a dreadful child is quite beyond my understanding."
Closing his eyes, Legolas shivered and let the elf do as he would. Cold rain ran in rivulets into the child's eyes as he endured.
"Go!" the elf growled, shoving the child forward. He staggered and recoiled from the contact, but Galion easily locked his hand around the thin upper arm of the child, yanking him forward. "Your father awaits you, and I would not have his anger turn my way because of you. Now walk, or must I encourage you?"
Legolas made a feeble effort to pull away, and his resistance was rewarded with a stinging slap that encompassed both his cheek and tender ear. He cried out, his free hand rising to cover the reddening ear, but Galior yanked him forward again and encouraged him to move faster with another slap to the lower back and a third across his small hips. The boy stumbled forward without further protests, being sped along with another yank. Raising his arm, Galion aimed his next blow at his victim's small backside.
The last blow never fell, for Galion's hand was suddenly engulfed in a powerful, painful, and quite invisible grip. It was now his turn to exclaim in pain and surprise.
"Enough," I growled, stepping from the concealing shadows and wrapping my very physical fingers around the elf's other wrist.
He cried out as I squeezed sensitive tendons, forcing him to release Legolas. Recoiling, Galion looked affronted and rubbed his assaulted wrist.
Going down on my knees, I slid my hands over Legolas's narrow shoulders and firmly pulled him back against me before fixing my gaze on the aide above me. I made a bold statement out of drawing the child into the shelter of my cloak, daring his captor to make another grab for him. Conversely, it prevented the equally dismaying possibility that the child might take flight. Legolas's small hand crept up to cover his ear again, but otherwise he made no protest.
"Master Wizard, you are a guest in this hall, but you overstep yourself now. I am to take this child inside. His father… King Thranduil wishes to have words with his son."
"You'll not be taking this child to his father tonight."
Galion gaped at me, incredulous. "But the king has ordered--"
"I heard what the king ordered. I understand what manner of words he wishes to share with the child, as well. Legolas will not be taken to him tonight."
"Master Wizard, it will not go well for me if I do not deliver the boy, and immediately!"
"Tell him the child cannot be found."
"I will not!" Galion drew himself up and sniffed, wiped his face of the rain and glowered at Legolas, who turned his face and hid against me. "I know every nook and cranny in which the little brat hides. I can smell him out, and the king knows it. I've been forced to track him down and play nursemaid for far too long for him to evade me so easily."
"Then tell your king that I found his son first, and that Legolas is staying with me." My tone remained reasonable and calm, making the elf's outrage seem quite undignified.
Galion sputtered and stared, but offered no further coherant arguments. Legolas trembled against me, whether from terror of his father or fear of me, I could not tell. The small fingers of one hand bunched in the rough material of my robe, while the other still guarded his stinging ear. I dared to rub his back in what I hoped was a comforting gesture, but Legolas only tensed. So I settled for cradling his small body against me and waited for Galion's response.
"This will not do, but on your head be it, Mithrandir," he grumbled. "I will not insult a guest with further arguments, but I will report this to my king. No doubt he will want to deal with your meddling in his business. You do your cause no service, wizard, nor will it spare that child what is due him." Glowering at Legolas one last time, Galion spun on his heels and stalked off through the leaves.
"It will be all right," I murmured, running the palm of my hand over the boy's wet hair. He smelled of earth and rain and moved closer to me, twisting under my hand as if burrowing against me might make me stop touching him. I drew back slightly but did not relinquish my hold. "Have you eaten today?"
He stared at the ground, still shivering, but made no reply.
"Have you?" I asked cheerfully, as though the unpleasant scene from moments before had never happened. "Was that your stomach I heard growling?" I smiled and poked my forefinger gently at his small belly.
He considered matters a moment. Eventually, he shook his head. Fair enough.
"Then finding you some supper shall be the first order of our evening. Will you come with me to do that, little leaf?"
I plucked a small, damp oak leaf out of his hair. He tensed at the touch, then watched it drift to the forest floor. His eyes lifted warily to meet mine, but his chin did not come up, and he still kept one hand cupped over his abused ear. I could see the reddened tip through his fingers. The blow must have hurt badly.
"We'll go in through the kitchens," I reassured, smiling at him again, "so that you do not have to meet your father's courtiers. How does that sound?"
A nod. Other than that, Legolas didn't move.
The rain pattered harder around us, and I wondered if I should wrap the child up and carry him in a belated attempt to protect him from the rain. Given his skittishness and mistrust, it seemed a foolish notion, so that I decided not to even try it. Releasing him, I stood slowly, carefully. It wouldn't do to make any sudden moves and lose him now to the darkening forest.
"Will you show me the safest entrance, then?"
Whirling, he stared and backed away from me before heading off with what must have been his usual speed. Darting through the leaves and into the concealing shadows, he paused a few feet away and cast a glance over his shoulder. So he didn't mean to lose me after all?
I followed at a more sedate pace, setting the vines and branches out of my way, smiling and indicating that I could keep up, after a fashion. I fully expected him to leave me behind, in which case I'd just have to ask the forest for help in finding him again. [We could be at this all night,] came the thought.
I hoped not.
A measure of trust must have been created between us, or perhaps Legolas just wanted his supper. In any event, he led me to an overgrown narrow gate, rusted closed and half off of its hinges. He was able to slip through it, but I was not.
I fingered my moustache and frowned at the sagging metal while Legolas waited in silent, still observation on the other side of the gate. He seemed to not notice the rain, just pushed impatiently at the wet hair falling into his eyes and staring at me as if he expected me to float over the obstruction. I gave the gate a tentative pull, but its resistance spoke of years in that position.
"Well, there's nothing for it."
Heaving a great sigh, I set my sights on the low wall beside the gate. Grumbling and grousing, I gathered my robes and found toeholds in the old stone. Climbing up and then over, I found safe footing on solid ground once more, turned about, and found that the little elf was watching me with obvious amusement.
"You didn't think I could do that, did you?"
A shrug. He pointed at my robes. I gathered that he felt climbing in long robes and a cloak was not a clever thing to do. If anything, his shy smile grew into a fleeting grin. The grin, I noted, was missing two front teeth. Replacements hadn't begun to grow in yet, which would make the little leaf about... yes, about twelve, I calculated, which would be the equivalent of about six years of age for a Man-child.
This little leaf was very young. He was also small for his age, but far from stupid. I had already sensed a keen intelligence behind those eyes and an iron will to survive. I now added a sense of humor to the list.
"Lead on." Stepping forward, I gestured and was gratified to see that Legolas did not cringe from my touch. Rather, he chose to walk a few paces before me, heading for the castle proper and a hint of light and warmth in the stones that turned out to be the kitchen.
My companion stopped at the edge of the preparation area, determined not to take one step further into that center of activity. I, however, as the guest of honor, had no such hesitations, and I swept my newfound friend into the kitchen with me. Uncomfortable as he might be with this situation, I would not let him out of my sight for a moment, lest it give someone the opportunity to reclaim him.
"I wish two trenchers of food be brought to my chamber, along with a jug of milk and some wine."
No one questioned my orders, but they did stare at the child accompanying me. Legolas all but shrank away from the sniffy cook and his assistants and tried to hide behind me. I filed that information away before lifting the edge of my cloak and casually draping it over him, which served to hide at least some of him. Perhaps it would serve to make him feel a little more secure. Leaning down, I whispered into his ear.
"Doesn't seem a very friendly place, does it? Come, we'll find somewhere more hospitable to eat."
Ushering him away from that hive of activity, I led him through the stone corridors to my chamber. He followed, but his steps seemed to drag slower and slower the closer we got, until by the time we reached the room he was trailing several steps behind me. Pushing open the heavy hewn door, I gestured him through it.
"They'll bring the food here, Legolas, and we'll be able to eat in peace. No one will come, no one will yell. No one will hurt you in here."
He stopped dead in the corridor and eyed the open door. His small shoulders tensed, and he looked from me to the room beyond. For a moment, I thought that he was going to bolt.
Busying myself with peeling off my heavy, damp cloak, I watched him anxiously from the corner of my eye. "The food smelled good back there, didn't it? I expect that they'll bring something nice. Warm, too. I've been traveling and eating bread and hard cheese for days, so something warm will be quite a treat for me."
Between my casual manner and the promise of a warm meal, Legolas seemed to overcome some of his hesitation. He took a step forward, then another, and another until finally, with a bit of weaving and agitation, he gathered the courage to cross the threshold itself. Standing inside the room, he stared up at me with huge eyes.
[What does he think I'll do to him?] I wondered.
Sounds from the corridor indicated the arrival of the meal, along with those bearing it. That was enough to send the little elf skittering further into the room and behind the chair over which I'd draped the cloak.
The food arrived then, great trenchers of it, along with the requested libations. I thanked the servants who brought it, closed the door behind them, and barred it. When I turned back, it was to see that Legolas's eyes had gone huge. Stark fear shone in them, and he was now standing with his back firmly against the far wall.
It was obvious that he felt trapped. From the way his eyes kept flickering from me to the door and back, it was equally obvious that he wanted out. Turning to the door, I laid a hand on it and whispered to the wood. No small elven hands would be able to open it; it would remain closed until I removed the words of power binding it. No small little elf would be able to escape my watch-care in the night.
"The food smells good, don't you think?" Pulling a chair up to the table, I leaned down to retrieve two thick historical tomes borrowed from Thranduil's library. Placing them on the chair, I then found utensils to set beside a trencher, poured out a mug of milk and set it close by.
Pouring myself a mug of wine, I turned away from the table, lit a small fire, and settled into the chair before it. Pulling out my pipe, I prepared and lit it.
"I'll have dinner later, if that's all right with you," I offered softly. "If it pleases you to eat now, please feel free to do so."
He didn't move from his place against the wall, and I didn't offer any further conversation. Puffing quietly, I stared at the fire and stole glances at Legolas from the corner of my eye. At first, nothing happened. I smoked, he hovered in the shadows, and that was that. It was as I was contemplating refilling both pipe and mug that I heard, or rather sensed, some slight movement behind me.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as he sidled closer to the table, his gaze never leaving me. I drew on my now-empty pipe, and did not move. Snatching a bit of bread, he backed away and gauged my reaction to his daring. Draining the last drops of my wine, I stared at the fire.
"I wish you'd sit down and eat, child," I murmured. "That's what the food is there for."
Suspicion warred with hunger for another long moment, and I took the time to refill my pipe. Legolas stayed by the table, caught in indecision.
I rose slowly, moved slowly, and reached even more slowly to the wine. I poured it into the mug carefully, returned the beaker to the table, and turned away. And then I turned back, startling him into a two-step retreat. Smiling, I pointed at the chair.
"Sit and eat, little leaf. That plate is for you."
I returned to my place by the fire. Eyes still on me, he climbed carefully up onto the chair.
He ate quickly and quietly behind me while I blew smoke-rings. Rings were simple and mastered long ago. Ships, however, took a bit of extra effort, and so I set to practicing them. All sounds of eating ceased behind me; he was surely watching me. So smoke-ships interested him, did they? Let us see what else an old wizard could come up with.
It took several failed attempts, but I soon had a winged dragon wafting toward the hearth, only to dissolve against the stones. A gasp sounded behind me, and I dared to turn my head.
"Dragonth!" he murmured. His missing front teeth made him lisp, and his bright eyes were entirely focused on the smoke-creature that was already fading quickly.
It was the first word I'd heard him speak, and I smiled with this success. "Have you ever seen a dragon, Legolas?"
A shake of the head, which sent long hair flying everywhere. He waited for me to resume puffing on my pipe before taking another bite of food.
"Let's see if I can't create another one for you then, hmm?"
I sent the next one out over the table, directly toward him. Scarcely breathing, Legolas watched it come. It seemed to head directly for his face, though I'd not intended it to, and the boy reached up as though to ward the creature off. The dragon flew through his fingers, dissolving into wisps of smoke upon contact. He stared in amazement as the smoke dissipated, then turned his astonished gaze upon his own small fingers that had banished the dragon.
I eyed the trencher before him and noted that he'd eaten a good portion. Falling into silence, I waited for time to pass and the surge of adrenaline to clear his small body. I continued with smoke rings and ships and other unidentifiable smoky failures, and eventually my patience was rewarded when he folded his arms against the table, lowered his head, and began nodding off. A few more minutes, and he stopped fighting sleep. He stopped raising his head to peer at me, as if to ensure that I hadn't moved, that I wasn't going to transform into a dragon myself and come at him, roaring loudly and breathing flame in addition to smoke.
His eyes closed, his breathing deepened. I rose carefully from the chair and moved over him. Murmuring another spell, I deepened his sleep, then lifted his thin body out of the chair. Laying the child on the bed, I gathered a towel and a basin, poured hot water into it from the kettle over the fire, and proceeded to clean him up as best I could with such limited means.
I swiped at the grime on his face, moving carefully over the faded handprint and the blue ghosting of a new bruise across his cheekbone. Removing his jerkin, I attempted to remove the dirt on his chest and arms. Over and over, I wiped at the stubborn smears, which refused all of my efforts to remove them. The dirt covered his small chest as smudges covered his arms. The smudges were darker at his wrists, and I sat down hard on the edge of the bed when I realized how wrong I'd been in my assumptions.
It wasn't dirt, it was bruising. My hands shook as rolled Legolas over gently, the better to examine his back. There were even more smudges and shadows there, disappearing into the ragged leggings that covered the rest of his small, vulnerable body. I removed his boots and wet leggings to find similar marks. I discovered that one of his thin arms held heat when I touched him to shift his position again. I backtracked to run my hand down it, then turned his arm between my hands to have a closer look.
Legolas whimpered and shifted in his sleep at the contact. Laying my hand across his narrow back, I soothed him deeper into slumber before reaching for a candle, the better to see in the gloom.
His wrists, back and arms had borne the brunt of the damage. The dark circles at his wrists spoke of old yankings as well as new – a few of which I'd personally witnessed. His left elbow was swollen. Running my fingers over muscle and bone, I felt the misalignment easily and swore softly in Dwarvish.
It was easy enough to reset the bones. Gathering the child into my arms, I turned his thumb toward his torso and slowly folded his arm toward his shoulder and felt the soft click of the joint reseating itself. My power could set the rest of this to rights as well, could heal his injuries overnight, almost, but what of the morrow? What of the next time his father or Galion, or only the Valar knew whom, got their hands on Legolas? As horrified as I was at his treatment today, I knew that his tomorrow would be much worse, and worse for days beyond that because of my interference this night.
Anger surged within me, as well as determination. [There will be no next time.]
I could not put wet clothing back on the boy, so I tucked him warm beneath the covers and hung the garments at the fire to dry. By then, my course was decided and my path was set. I had planned to stay a few weeks at Mirkwood, acquainting myself with the king and his court. I needed to continue familiarizing myself with the problems that needed addressed in this corner of Middle Earth.
I was ever conscious of the threat that seemed to be growing in Mordor and knew all too well that darkness was creeping closer to Thranduil's borders. There was the not insignificant threat of Dol Goldur, well within these borders, and I'd yet to get a comprehensive report on the goings-on there. There was much for me to do, and I was in Middle Earth to serve the many, not the few, and certainly not the very particular needs of one very small prince.
None of that mattered anymore. Not this night. Not when I was sitting in Thranduil's palace, had enjoyed his hospitality, and had realized that he was physically abusing his youngest son. I didn't bother to ask the gods why; there was no why, there was only the need to remove Legolas from this place and these people.
This, I would do -- tonight, if possible. Where I would take him, I didn't yet know. Only one thing was certain; the power of the Istari would be brought to bear to keep Legolas safe, and no one would ever lay hands on him like that again. From now until the end of his days, this elf would have me to look after him.