He crouched on the floor, praying to the Valar that he would not be
found. He curled into a ball on the far side of his bed, dreading the sound
of those footsteps. A loose strand of his long blond hair fell over his
shoulder. They were so much alike, father and son. The same long blond
hair. The same deep blue eyes. The same tall, thin build..
After several long moments, the elf began to relax. He moved himself to a more comfortable position to avoid further aggravating his already sore ribs from the encounter the night before. The elf began to fell slightly foolish. How could he, so highly praised and loved among the people of Mirkwood- his people- be caused so much fear by one lone elf? The elf he looked so similar to, almost like brothers. He rose, choosing to prepare himself for rest though he would not sleep. Then he barely suppressed a whimper as those menacing footsteps he dreaded so much started down the hall.
"Oh, by Eru, please no," the elf gasped, searching desperately for an escape. There was none, he knew. He'd been in this situation far too many times before. He was trapped in his bedroom, which, more often than not, became his own personal hell. The footsteps drew nearer, although they were slow and lacked the usual grace present even in the sound of an elf's footfalls. Alcohol was the cause of this the elf knew. Alcohol would make his demon reckless. The beating would be worse, but he would have a chance at escape. If only he had somewhere to run..
The footsteps were more than halfway down the hall by now. The two elves watching outside the door would not deny him entrance, they had no reason to. They would have helped the elf within, with their lives if necessary, had they known. But how did one explain this terror?
The footsteps had reached his door now. The elf shivered in fear and his blond hair rippled down his back. He could only stand paralyzed before the bed as the door opened, allowing in the light that lined the hall along with his demon.
"Hello, father," came Legolas Thranduilion's cold voice, his outline silhouetted in the doorway as the outside light bathed his cold features.
After several long moments, the elf began to relax. He moved himself to a more comfortable position to avoid further aggravating his already sore ribs from the encounter the night before. The elf began to fell slightly foolish. How could he, so highly praised and loved among the people of Mirkwood- his people- be caused so much fear by one lone elf? The elf he looked so similar to, almost like brothers. He rose, choosing to prepare himself for rest though he would not sleep. Then he barely suppressed a whimper as those menacing footsteps he dreaded so much started down the hall.
"Oh, by Eru, please no," the elf gasped, searching desperately for an escape. There was none, he knew. He'd been in this situation far too many times before. He was trapped in his bedroom, which, more often than not, became his own personal hell. The footsteps drew nearer, although they were slow and lacked the usual grace present even in the sound of an elf's footfalls. Alcohol was the cause of this the elf knew. Alcohol would make his demon reckless. The beating would be worse, but he would have a chance at escape. If only he had somewhere to run..
The footsteps were more than halfway down the hall by now. The two elves watching outside the door would not deny him entrance, they had no reason to. They would have helped the elf within, with their lives if necessary, had they known. But how did one explain this terror?
The footsteps had reached his door now. The elf shivered in fear and his blond hair rippled down his back. He could only stand paralyzed before the bed as the door opened, allowing in the light that lined the hall along with his demon.
"Hello, father," came Legolas Thranduilion's cold voice, his outline silhouetted in the doorway as the outside light bathed his cold features.