Title: Niphred Ôl (1-2/18)
Author: Quellecristiel
Author's Email: quellecristiel@yahoo.co.uk
Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel, eventual Legolas/Elrohir
Rating: R
Summary: Legolas is being abused by his lover, but he loves him too much to leave
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own anything but two paperclips, a pen and a notepad
WARNING: Violence, Rape, OOC Glorfindel, AU (no ring)
Authors Note: I really do rather like Glorfindel, and he's lovely in my other fic, Healing, (soon to be published in Skyfire's zine), but I needed somebody to be the bad guy this time, and I don't like bringing in original characters. I'm sorry to all the Glorfindel fans out there! If you do like this fic, please review and make a poor little slash writer's day...
just in case you missed it.
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS DOMESTIC ABUSE, RAPE AND BDSM. IF YOU OBJECT TO THESE TOPICS PLEASE DO NOT READ
Please don't flame, and get upset over the rating/content etc. I have posted adequate warning and explained the content of this story, it is your choice to read it or not. Constructive criticism however is welcome- you can't improve without knowing your failings (
Special thanks go to Cheysuli, whose challenge this is the result of, and to my wonderful beta reader Niana Yuy.
(thank you both so much!)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 2
Large, anxious eyes peered back at Legolas, dark against the ghostly white face to which they belonged. Staring at his reflection in the dressing table mirror, the young prince despaired.
He looked like he hadn't eaten or slept in weeks, and however close to the truth that might be, he simply couldn't go out looking this way. Someone would be bound to suspect that something was wrong, and Legolas didn't think he could deal with the humiliation if anyone ever found out.
How long had his lover been taking out his anger on him? How many years now since the beatings started, gradually getting worse? Since Glorfindel's drinking had spiralled out of control?
He cursed his own weakness for taking it all, but he couldn't find the strength to leave. He simply loved the blonde too much to depart. Besides, Glorfindel would never allow it, and there was no one Legolas could ask for help- to others, Glorfindel was an upstanding, respected council member, a brave warrior, charming and witty. Only Legolas saw the other side of the noble lord's personality; the terrifying alter-ego that revealed himself when alcohol poisoned the better half of Glorfindel's brain.
Legolas wasn't sure which would be worse- the isolation and scorn he would suffer if they didn't believe his story, or the shame of them discovering it true. For wasn't he a warrior too? How could he let this happen to himself, where was his pride? They would never understand why he couldn't just leave.
His hand ghosted of its own volition over the new bruise blossoming on his temple. He still loved the Elda, despite everything, and Glorfindel did love him, didn't he? That was what he said last night, wasn't it?
He turned his attention back to the painful bruise on his forehead. His Elven healing abilities meant that since the previous night it had lightened in colour considerably, fading to a purplish yellow, but it still remained visible, advertising that something was amiss to any who cared to look. Legolas carefully combed his hair and tied it back loosely with a leather strap, letting the hair above his temples droop down a little, obscuring most of the tell-tale mark. It would do for the moment, he thought. Besides, his Elven blood would ensure that within another few hours the bruise would be entirely healed.
Gentle snores coming from the next room told Legolas that Glorfindel still slept, the binge of the night before taking its toll. Quietly, he reached for his clothing, wincing slightly as his shoulder creaked in protest, stiff and sore from the collision with the wall the night before. His head still throbbed painfully from the combination of slaps, punches, hair-pulling and the impact with the hard stone wall, but he did his best to ignore the pounding in his skull.
He stepped into his breeches and laced them up before pulling on his shirt and tunic, grimacing once more at the stress put on his damaged shoulder. If he could hardly bear lifting his arms to dress himself, how was he going to manage throughout the rest of the day? He was due within half an hour at the practise fields to meet with the twin lords of Imladris, his friends from childhood. Elladan and Elrohir had challenged him to a friendly sparring match a few days ago, and Legolas was beginning to wish he had declined.
Now however, there was nothing to be done about it; a sudden cancellation would arouse the twins' suspicion and likely hurt their feelings. Sighing resignedly, the prince put on a brave face and picked up his sword and belt lying on the top of the chest of drawers, running his hand affectionately over the sheath. Strapping it about his waist, he made his way silently to the door, thankful that his lover's soft snores continued uninterrupted in their rhythmic pattern. Easing the door open a crack, the blonde squeezed through the opening he had made and stepped out into the cool, quiet corridor.
His route to the practise field was solitary but for the occasional maid or vassal going about their daily business. Legolas felt his heart lighten as he stepped out into the open air, the sunshine warming his back. Perhaps this would not be such a terrible experience after all. Already he felt better since leaving his lover's presence.
"Mae govannen, gwador!" Elladan's voice rang clear across the training field, turning the prince's attention to the two identical elves beneath a tree on the far side of the range. They were slightly taller than he, and with ebony tresses arrayed in identical braids. Where Legolas' eyes were blue, theirs were a clear grey, and their mortal heritage showed itself in their broader chests and shoulders.
Legolas smiled to see his childhood friends and closest confidantes during the years he had spent here in Imladris. Joining them where they stood, he grasped Elladan's arm in a warrior's greeting, before turning to do the same with his brother. "Will you spar with us, gwador?" Elrohir asked with a glint in his eye, already certain of the answer. Legolas ignored his pain to reply heartily, "I have never been one to turn down a challenge."
They moved away from the tree into a clearing where they could swing their blades unobstructed. Elrohir and Legolas bowed to each other, stepped back, and drew their swords, beginning their match. Elladan lay back languidly in the sun, a smile playing on his lips as he watched them strike and parry on the grass.
They were evenly matched, and their game drew on, continuing until the heat of the day began to make itself felt. Sweat glistened on their brows, and Elrohir paused from their sport to remove his shirt and tunic. Legolas followed suit and had just reached for the ends of his shirt when he checked himself- there would still be bruising covering his skin from the previous night, and displaying this to the twins would only lead to awkward questions and suspicions.
He let his hands fall away from the fabric.
"Will you not take off your shirt? The day is hot." Legolas shook his head at Elladan's query, taking up his sword again and turning to face the younger twin once more.
They continued, trading blows with the sword until the sweat poured in rivulets down Legolas' back and his damaged muscles screamed in agony. The field in front of him spun, and Legolas felt his sword knocked from his hands by a well-aimed blow. Oblivious to his friend's distress, Elrohir whooped in triumph. "Well fought! But my little brother takes the winner's title this time, gwador." Legolas nodded weakly, wishing the valley would stop spinning and stay put. Sensing something amiss, Elrohir reached out, concerned.
"Legolas, are you well?" He pulled at the shirt the woodland prince wore. "Come, you are overheated, let us take this off and get you into the shade."
Still slightly dazed, Legolas was about to allow the younger Peredhel to remove the garment, when a warning bell clanged somewhere at the back of his mind. Panicking, he stepped back, shoving Elrohir's hands away.
"No!"
Elrohir stepped back, bewildered by the outburst, and Elladan rose, holding up his hands placatingly. The blonde's strange behaviour was mystifying. "Legolas, be calm. He wasn't going to hit you, what's gotten into you?" He came up behind the prince, intending to place a soothing hand on his shoulder, but stopped dead as he approached, eyes widening in shock.
"By Elbereth, Legolas! What happened to your shoulder?"
Confusion whirled through Legolas' brain- how could.? He looked over his shoulder and felt his stomach lurch, the sweat on his back had turned the thin shirt completely transparent, leaving the dark purple bruises covering his shoulder blade displayed for all to see. Legolas' heart thundered in his chest. He was cornered. "I.I fell from my horse," he stammered. "I did not want you to know of my clumsiness."
Elladan frowned, not believing such a feeble excuse. Elrohir took advantage of Legolas' distracted state to take the blonde's head firmly in his hands, forcing him to look the younger twin in the eye. "Tell us the truth. I know you were not riding yesterday, for I was in the stables all afternoon and you met with father in the morn. What are you hiding?" As he spoke, a dark shape over Legolas' right temple caught his eye. Brushing the hair back from his face before the prince could react, Elrohir gasped.
"Legolas, someone hit you!" The prince wrenched himself free and backed away, fumbling in the grass for his blade. "I told you, I fell from my horse," he repeated, more confident this time but still with a slight tremor in his voice.
He succeeded in finding his sword and tucked it safely into its sheath. "I have to go." "Legolas, wait!" But the prince had already turned and fled towards the house leaving the twins confused and worried. Shaking his head, Elrohir turned towards his brother.
"I'm going to speak to father of this. Something just isn't right."
Chapter 3
Back inside his chambers, Legolas curled up in a corner, hands clutching his head, trying to make sense of his conflicting emotions. He hated the beatings, yes, and wanted them to stop, but he couldn't let the twins find out about them, even if it might mean an end to the pain. And they surely would discover the truth if they continued to pry like this.
How could he have let them see the bruises? He thought he had been careful. Legolas was utterly mortified -if they were to find out, the shame caused by their knowing the way he allowed himself to be used would surely kill him. They would scorn him for his weakness, just as Glorfindel did. They wouldn't understand why he couldn't leave, that he loved the warrior too much. They would never understand that Glorfindel did love him in return.
He absentmindedly swivelled the ring on his left hand -gold, with a delicate golden flower set with a sapphire. It had been a love token from Glorfindel years ago, when they exchanged rings as a symbol of their devotion. Just as Legolas now wore this ring, an heirloom of the House of the Golden Flower, Glorfindel wore a mithril band set with a single, brilliant green emerald, symbolising the Royal House of Greenwood. A token that his lover still wore today, Legolas reflected. Yes, of course the Elda loved him- they still wore these symbols of love, did they not? Nay, it was not, could not, really be Glorfindel who flew into these violent rages. It was simply the drink, and he would stop someday, he would.
The real, loving Glorfindel was in there somewhere, he just knew it.
* * *
Elrond poured over the first draft of a new trade agreement with Lorien, so absorbed in this tedious work that he didn't hear the gentle knocking at his door. Only when the knocking redoubled in volume did he look up from his parchment in surprise, bidding his visitor enter. A dark head with his own grey eyes emerged shyly from the corridor beyond, followed shortly by the remainder of his youngest son.
"Elrohir my child, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you inside to my study when the day outside is so fine?"
"I wanted to speak to you about something, Ada." Glancing at the quills and parchment littering the study desk, Elrohir blushed. "Forgive me, you are busy and I have interrupted."
Elrond pushed the debris aside. "You and your brother are always more than welcome in my study, you know that." Turning a frustrated eye towards the infernal trade agreement, he continued wryly, "And right now, I assure you that you are a most welcome interruption. What is on your mind?" Elrohir came to perch on the side of his father's desk, legs dangling over the edge. He rubbed his nose thoughtfully, considering how best to articulate his worry.
"It's about Legolas, Ada. He's been so subdued of late, but I didn't think much of it until now- I just supposed he missed the Greenwood. But today- today Elladan and I saw something we found quite disturbing." Elrond raised his eyebrows, and indicated to his son to continue.
"As I was saying; we were sparring in the training field, with the sun starting to bake us alive, yet Legolas refused to remove his shirt. He tired faster than usual- seemed to be tired before we began, even- and after a while he looked like he was going to faint any second, his eyes were so out of focus. Then, as if this was not enough, Ell' and I got a glimpse of his shoulder, Ada- it was bruised back and blue, visible even through his shirt! And I found another such mark on his temple, as through he had been punched. When we confronted him, he claimed that he fell from his horse, but I know he was nowhere near the stables yesterday!" He paused for breath, looking pleadingly at his father. "Adar, there is something seriously wrong with Legolas, he is acting so strangely. I don't know what to do, when he denies there is any problem."
Elrond looked back sadly at his son, his worst fears confirmed. "I have long suspected that all is not well with the prince, since I noted how strange the break was when he fractured his wrist months ago- the bone had splintered, as though his wrist had been sharply twisted. A sharp impact, such as a fall, would have produced a clean break. I'm afraid this is only the latest in a series of worrying developments, pen-neth." Elrohir frowned. "What do you mean?" "Legolas has been more than usually withdrawn over the last year; his outgoing personality seems to have been replaced by a more sober, pensive one. There was that unusual injury as I said before." Elrond paused, choosing his words carefully. "And, I have noticed of late the rather increasing quantities of alcohol that my seneschal has been consuming recently."
"Glorfindel? But what does that have to do with Legolas acting strangely?"
Elrond sighed deeply. "Everything, son. Drink can make someone into quite a different person; bring out sides of us that under normal circumstances would remain in check. It makes us forget all rational thought, and brings out our.. baser instincts."
Comprehension dawned on Elrohir, and gave way to horror.
"You mean- surely Glorfindel cannot be the one causing these injuries." The thought of his old tutor lifting a hand to his lover seemed ridiculous.
"You know very little about him pen-neth, there are sides to him that you have never seen. This all coupled with the reports I received this morning from several disgruntled residents of the East wing that angry shouting and loud banging was heard last night coming from the chambers they share, seems to support my theory. What you have told me today has simply confirmed my theory."
"Why would Legolas not say anything? Why would he let it happen?"
"You have never been in love Elrohir. Sometimes our love is so all consuming, it blinds us to the realities of a situation. Sometimes we can no longer see when the love is gone from the other half of the relationship." The lore master lowered his tone, massaging his temples. "And Legolas is proud. The thought that someone might find out about his being beaten regularly likely horrifies him. He may well be ashamed of what is going on."
"Ashamed? Why should he be the one to feel embarrassed? It is Glorfindel who should be ashamed of his behaviour."
"But I doubt Legolas will see it that way," his father explained patiently.
Elrohir clenched his hands into fists, ready to seek out Glorfindel and give him a taste of his own medicine. How dare he harm such a perfect creature? If Elrohir had been the one to hold the prince's heart, he would be worshipping the ground the blonde walked upon, not using his fair body to vent his anger on.
Sensing his son's rage and indignation, Elrond spoke quickly "Do not interfere in this, Elrohir, it is not our place. Legolas has to come to a decision himself. He will need a supportive friend, which is the role you must assume. We must simply watch our Greenleaf carefully in the next few months, and pray he makes the right choice himself."
Chapter 4
Six weeks had passed since the incident with the twins in the training field, and Legolas was relieved to discover that after their initial shock, they had decided to back off and ceased to press him for answers. His relationship with Glorfindel was no less volatile, but the blonde lord seemed to have become more subtle- he no longer hit Legolas where the bruises might show, and made sure that a suitable excuse was concocted in case someone should notice any telling marks.
Despite this, Legolas became steadily more withdrawn, paranoid that somehow people might be able to tell just be looking at him what was happening. The only people he would still agree to meet with regularly were the twins, Elrohir in particular. He had always felt closest to Elrohir, ever since both Peredhil were fostered in the Greenwood as children, but over the past few weeks they had become closer than ever. So many times he had been tempted to pour out everything to the younger twin, desperate for the warmth and understanding that Elrohir seemed to radiate. Thus far however, he had managed to keep his emotions in check. He did not want one moment of weakness to cause him to lose his closest and most trusted friend. The time he spent with the Peredhil was the only part of the day when he could relax and be carefree, and Legolas cherished their meetings.
The prince smiled as he braided his hair. His friends would be waiting for him now at the stables, ready to ride out into the forest. It would let him escape his troubles, even if only for and hour or two, and his heart felt lightened already.
"Where do you think you're going?" The leaden weight returned, Legolas' heart sinking. //Not now, please not now.// "I'm only riding with the twins, meleth, I will be gone but I couple of hours, in time to serve you this evening." Glorfindel stood leaning on the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. At Legolas' words, his lips curled into an unpleasant sneer. "I might have known you'd be creeping off to your slutty little Elrohir. You spend more time with him than me." Legolas bit down his frustration, forcing himself to remain calm. "He is my friend, nothing more." Glorfindel stepped forward threateningly, his face contorted in a snarl. "You expect me to believe that? With you always running off with them?" "I have the right to see my friends." "And what of my rights? Do you forget your duty to me? I won't have you seeing them anymore, and that's final!" Legolas' outrage boiled over, and he yelled straight back.
"You don't own me!"
As soon as the words had left his lips, Legolas knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Panicking, he held out his hands, preparing to apologise, when Glorfindel suddenly moved. Roaring in fury at being opposed, the Elda lashed out brutally, knocking the smaller elf to the floor.
Legolas tried to use his arms to protect himself from the hail of blows raining down on him, but his lover's superior strength defeated him. He couldn't defend himself against the constant flow of punches and kicks Glorfindel directed at him. A particularly savage kick to the stomach left him gasping for breath, curling up instinctively. His chest felt fit to explode, each breath he took was a form of torment. Screwing his eyes tightly shut, he waited, panting, for the outburst to end.
Breathing heavily from the exertion, Glorfindel finally ceased the punishment on his lover's body, looking down at him contemptuously. "Go to your precious Elrohir, whore. Get out of my sight!" Legolas drew a deep, painful breath, clutching at a table leg, unable to rise in his current state. Growling with impatience, Glorfindel hauled him up by the arm, ignoring the pained cry that issued from his lover's lips. Dragging the injured elf to the door, the blonde lord tossed him from the room into the cold corridor beyond.
Legolas was barely able to cling to the stone wall outside the room to keep himself from falling. He felt dizzy and sick from the pain, but persevered, trying to remain upright as he traversed the hallway. He was so preoccupied with the task of making it to the stables without collapsing that he failed to notice the horrified looks he received from passing citizens- though he was too disorientated to realise it, warm red blood dripped from his nose and a gash on his cheek, he clothes were in a state of complete disarray, and his hair was a dishevelled, bloody mess. His breaths became increasingly laboured, but he struggled on towards where he knew the twins would be waiting. The pain was too intense for him to be capable of rational thought, and his lover's final words to him replayed over and over in his head.
After what felt like an age, the battered prince staggered out into the stable yard, startling a group of young stable boys with his bedraggled appearance. Darkness began to blur the edges of his vision, and he suddenly felt an almighty stabbing pain in the side of his chest, like a dagger was being thrust into him. Spitting up blood, he barely saw the Peredhil racing towards him. "Legolas! Gods, what happened to you?" At Elrohir's anguished cry, Legolas turned unseeing eyes towards the twins. He managed one step before he faltered, swooning into the younger twin's outstretched arms. Shouting in alarm, Elrohir scooped up the prince's limp body, carrying him securely. "Brother, run ahead to the healers!" Without a second's hesitation, Elladan raced in the direction of the Healing House. As fast as he could travel without jostling his delicate his delicate cargo, Elrohir set off after his brother, thanking every deity he could name that the healers were stationed close to the stables. It was a measure designed to ensure wounded soldiers arriving from battles were treated swiftly in times of war, but now it looked set to save his friend's life.
A clutch of healers stood waiting for him as he approached the steps of the Healing House, and his burden was quickly taken from him and borne inside. Amid the confusion and flurry of activity, Elrohir was able to make out his father, directing the other healers and barking out orders. At the other side of the porch he saw Elladan, pale and scared. Suddenly both he and his brother were being shepherded inside, though in the opposite direction to the prince.
Head spinning, Elrohir let himself be led into a cool, quiet and completely empty ward. Feeling nauseous, he was unresisting as he felt himself pushed to sit on an empty bed, Elladan doing the same. Shock was making him shiver violently, he was immensely grateful when the healer taking care of him wrapped a woollen blanket around his shoulders. Clutching it close, he looked up hopefully at the elf that had given it to him. "Will he be alright?" She shrugged apologetically. "I cannot say. The healers are with him now, they will be able to tell you more when they are finished." Elrohir nodded weakly, sick to the stomach, bracing himself for an agonising wait.
Author: Quellecristiel
Author's Email: quellecristiel@yahoo.co.uk
Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel, eventual Legolas/Elrohir
Rating: R
Summary: Legolas is being abused by his lover, but he loves him too much to leave
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own anything but two paperclips, a pen and a notepad
WARNING: Violence, Rape, OOC Glorfindel, AU (no ring)
Authors Note: I really do rather like Glorfindel, and he's lovely in my other fic, Healing, (soon to be published in Skyfire's zine), but I needed somebody to be the bad guy this time, and I don't like bringing in original characters. I'm sorry to all the Glorfindel fans out there! If you do like this fic, please review and make a poor little slash writer's day...
just in case you missed it.
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS DOMESTIC ABUSE, RAPE AND BDSM. IF YOU OBJECT TO THESE TOPICS PLEASE DO NOT READ
Please don't flame, and get upset over the rating/content etc. I have posted adequate warning and explained the content of this story, it is your choice to read it or not. Constructive criticism however is welcome- you can't improve without knowing your failings (
Special thanks go to Cheysuli, whose challenge this is the result of, and to my wonderful beta reader Niana Yuy.
(thank you both so much!)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 2
Large, anxious eyes peered back at Legolas, dark against the ghostly white face to which they belonged. Staring at his reflection in the dressing table mirror, the young prince despaired.
He looked like he hadn't eaten or slept in weeks, and however close to the truth that might be, he simply couldn't go out looking this way. Someone would be bound to suspect that something was wrong, and Legolas didn't think he could deal with the humiliation if anyone ever found out.
How long had his lover been taking out his anger on him? How many years now since the beatings started, gradually getting worse? Since Glorfindel's drinking had spiralled out of control?
He cursed his own weakness for taking it all, but he couldn't find the strength to leave. He simply loved the blonde too much to depart. Besides, Glorfindel would never allow it, and there was no one Legolas could ask for help- to others, Glorfindel was an upstanding, respected council member, a brave warrior, charming and witty. Only Legolas saw the other side of the noble lord's personality; the terrifying alter-ego that revealed himself when alcohol poisoned the better half of Glorfindel's brain.
Legolas wasn't sure which would be worse- the isolation and scorn he would suffer if they didn't believe his story, or the shame of them discovering it true. For wasn't he a warrior too? How could he let this happen to himself, where was his pride? They would never understand why he couldn't just leave.
His hand ghosted of its own volition over the new bruise blossoming on his temple. He still loved the Elda, despite everything, and Glorfindel did love him, didn't he? That was what he said last night, wasn't it?
He turned his attention back to the painful bruise on his forehead. His Elven healing abilities meant that since the previous night it had lightened in colour considerably, fading to a purplish yellow, but it still remained visible, advertising that something was amiss to any who cared to look. Legolas carefully combed his hair and tied it back loosely with a leather strap, letting the hair above his temples droop down a little, obscuring most of the tell-tale mark. It would do for the moment, he thought. Besides, his Elven blood would ensure that within another few hours the bruise would be entirely healed.
Gentle snores coming from the next room told Legolas that Glorfindel still slept, the binge of the night before taking its toll. Quietly, he reached for his clothing, wincing slightly as his shoulder creaked in protest, stiff and sore from the collision with the wall the night before. His head still throbbed painfully from the combination of slaps, punches, hair-pulling and the impact with the hard stone wall, but he did his best to ignore the pounding in his skull.
He stepped into his breeches and laced them up before pulling on his shirt and tunic, grimacing once more at the stress put on his damaged shoulder. If he could hardly bear lifting his arms to dress himself, how was he going to manage throughout the rest of the day? He was due within half an hour at the practise fields to meet with the twin lords of Imladris, his friends from childhood. Elladan and Elrohir had challenged him to a friendly sparring match a few days ago, and Legolas was beginning to wish he had declined.
Now however, there was nothing to be done about it; a sudden cancellation would arouse the twins' suspicion and likely hurt their feelings. Sighing resignedly, the prince put on a brave face and picked up his sword and belt lying on the top of the chest of drawers, running his hand affectionately over the sheath. Strapping it about his waist, he made his way silently to the door, thankful that his lover's soft snores continued uninterrupted in their rhythmic pattern. Easing the door open a crack, the blonde squeezed through the opening he had made and stepped out into the cool, quiet corridor.
His route to the practise field was solitary but for the occasional maid or vassal going about their daily business. Legolas felt his heart lighten as he stepped out into the open air, the sunshine warming his back. Perhaps this would not be such a terrible experience after all. Already he felt better since leaving his lover's presence.
"Mae govannen, gwador!" Elladan's voice rang clear across the training field, turning the prince's attention to the two identical elves beneath a tree on the far side of the range. They were slightly taller than he, and with ebony tresses arrayed in identical braids. Where Legolas' eyes were blue, theirs were a clear grey, and their mortal heritage showed itself in their broader chests and shoulders.
Legolas smiled to see his childhood friends and closest confidantes during the years he had spent here in Imladris. Joining them where they stood, he grasped Elladan's arm in a warrior's greeting, before turning to do the same with his brother. "Will you spar with us, gwador?" Elrohir asked with a glint in his eye, already certain of the answer. Legolas ignored his pain to reply heartily, "I have never been one to turn down a challenge."
They moved away from the tree into a clearing where they could swing their blades unobstructed. Elrohir and Legolas bowed to each other, stepped back, and drew their swords, beginning their match. Elladan lay back languidly in the sun, a smile playing on his lips as he watched them strike and parry on the grass.
They were evenly matched, and their game drew on, continuing until the heat of the day began to make itself felt. Sweat glistened on their brows, and Elrohir paused from their sport to remove his shirt and tunic. Legolas followed suit and had just reached for the ends of his shirt when he checked himself- there would still be bruising covering his skin from the previous night, and displaying this to the twins would only lead to awkward questions and suspicions.
He let his hands fall away from the fabric.
"Will you not take off your shirt? The day is hot." Legolas shook his head at Elladan's query, taking up his sword again and turning to face the younger twin once more.
They continued, trading blows with the sword until the sweat poured in rivulets down Legolas' back and his damaged muscles screamed in agony. The field in front of him spun, and Legolas felt his sword knocked from his hands by a well-aimed blow. Oblivious to his friend's distress, Elrohir whooped in triumph. "Well fought! But my little brother takes the winner's title this time, gwador." Legolas nodded weakly, wishing the valley would stop spinning and stay put. Sensing something amiss, Elrohir reached out, concerned.
"Legolas, are you well?" He pulled at the shirt the woodland prince wore. "Come, you are overheated, let us take this off and get you into the shade."
Still slightly dazed, Legolas was about to allow the younger Peredhel to remove the garment, when a warning bell clanged somewhere at the back of his mind. Panicking, he stepped back, shoving Elrohir's hands away.
"No!"
Elrohir stepped back, bewildered by the outburst, and Elladan rose, holding up his hands placatingly. The blonde's strange behaviour was mystifying. "Legolas, be calm. He wasn't going to hit you, what's gotten into you?" He came up behind the prince, intending to place a soothing hand on his shoulder, but stopped dead as he approached, eyes widening in shock.
"By Elbereth, Legolas! What happened to your shoulder?"
Confusion whirled through Legolas' brain- how could.? He looked over his shoulder and felt his stomach lurch, the sweat on his back had turned the thin shirt completely transparent, leaving the dark purple bruises covering his shoulder blade displayed for all to see. Legolas' heart thundered in his chest. He was cornered. "I.I fell from my horse," he stammered. "I did not want you to know of my clumsiness."
Elladan frowned, not believing such a feeble excuse. Elrohir took advantage of Legolas' distracted state to take the blonde's head firmly in his hands, forcing him to look the younger twin in the eye. "Tell us the truth. I know you were not riding yesterday, for I was in the stables all afternoon and you met with father in the morn. What are you hiding?" As he spoke, a dark shape over Legolas' right temple caught his eye. Brushing the hair back from his face before the prince could react, Elrohir gasped.
"Legolas, someone hit you!" The prince wrenched himself free and backed away, fumbling in the grass for his blade. "I told you, I fell from my horse," he repeated, more confident this time but still with a slight tremor in his voice.
He succeeded in finding his sword and tucked it safely into its sheath. "I have to go." "Legolas, wait!" But the prince had already turned and fled towards the house leaving the twins confused and worried. Shaking his head, Elrohir turned towards his brother.
"I'm going to speak to father of this. Something just isn't right."
Chapter 3
Back inside his chambers, Legolas curled up in a corner, hands clutching his head, trying to make sense of his conflicting emotions. He hated the beatings, yes, and wanted them to stop, but he couldn't let the twins find out about them, even if it might mean an end to the pain. And they surely would discover the truth if they continued to pry like this.
How could he have let them see the bruises? He thought he had been careful. Legolas was utterly mortified -if they were to find out, the shame caused by their knowing the way he allowed himself to be used would surely kill him. They would scorn him for his weakness, just as Glorfindel did. They wouldn't understand why he couldn't leave, that he loved the warrior too much. They would never understand that Glorfindel did love him in return.
He absentmindedly swivelled the ring on his left hand -gold, with a delicate golden flower set with a sapphire. It had been a love token from Glorfindel years ago, when they exchanged rings as a symbol of their devotion. Just as Legolas now wore this ring, an heirloom of the House of the Golden Flower, Glorfindel wore a mithril band set with a single, brilliant green emerald, symbolising the Royal House of Greenwood. A token that his lover still wore today, Legolas reflected. Yes, of course the Elda loved him- they still wore these symbols of love, did they not? Nay, it was not, could not, really be Glorfindel who flew into these violent rages. It was simply the drink, and he would stop someday, he would.
The real, loving Glorfindel was in there somewhere, he just knew it.
* * *
Elrond poured over the first draft of a new trade agreement with Lorien, so absorbed in this tedious work that he didn't hear the gentle knocking at his door. Only when the knocking redoubled in volume did he look up from his parchment in surprise, bidding his visitor enter. A dark head with his own grey eyes emerged shyly from the corridor beyond, followed shortly by the remainder of his youngest son.
"Elrohir my child, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you inside to my study when the day outside is so fine?"
"I wanted to speak to you about something, Ada." Glancing at the quills and parchment littering the study desk, Elrohir blushed. "Forgive me, you are busy and I have interrupted."
Elrond pushed the debris aside. "You and your brother are always more than welcome in my study, you know that." Turning a frustrated eye towards the infernal trade agreement, he continued wryly, "And right now, I assure you that you are a most welcome interruption. What is on your mind?" Elrohir came to perch on the side of his father's desk, legs dangling over the edge. He rubbed his nose thoughtfully, considering how best to articulate his worry.
"It's about Legolas, Ada. He's been so subdued of late, but I didn't think much of it until now- I just supposed he missed the Greenwood. But today- today Elladan and I saw something we found quite disturbing." Elrond raised his eyebrows, and indicated to his son to continue.
"As I was saying; we were sparring in the training field, with the sun starting to bake us alive, yet Legolas refused to remove his shirt. He tired faster than usual- seemed to be tired before we began, even- and after a while he looked like he was going to faint any second, his eyes were so out of focus. Then, as if this was not enough, Ell' and I got a glimpse of his shoulder, Ada- it was bruised back and blue, visible even through his shirt! And I found another such mark on his temple, as through he had been punched. When we confronted him, he claimed that he fell from his horse, but I know he was nowhere near the stables yesterday!" He paused for breath, looking pleadingly at his father. "Adar, there is something seriously wrong with Legolas, he is acting so strangely. I don't know what to do, when he denies there is any problem."
Elrond looked back sadly at his son, his worst fears confirmed. "I have long suspected that all is not well with the prince, since I noted how strange the break was when he fractured his wrist months ago- the bone had splintered, as though his wrist had been sharply twisted. A sharp impact, such as a fall, would have produced a clean break. I'm afraid this is only the latest in a series of worrying developments, pen-neth." Elrohir frowned. "What do you mean?" "Legolas has been more than usually withdrawn over the last year; his outgoing personality seems to have been replaced by a more sober, pensive one. There was that unusual injury as I said before." Elrond paused, choosing his words carefully. "And, I have noticed of late the rather increasing quantities of alcohol that my seneschal has been consuming recently."
"Glorfindel? But what does that have to do with Legolas acting strangely?"
Elrond sighed deeply. "Everything, son. Drink can make someone into quite a different person; bring out sides of us that under normal circumstances would remain in check. It makes us forget all rational thought, and brings out our.. baser instincts."
Comprehension dawned on Elrohir, and gave way to horror.
"You mean- surely Glorfindel cannot be the one causing these injuries." The thought of his old tutor lifting a hand to his lover seemed ridiculous.
"You know very little about him pen-neth, there are sides to him that you have never seen. This all coupled with the reports I received this morning from several disgruntled residents of the East wing that angry shouting and loud banging was heard last night coming from the chambers they share, seems to support my theory. What you have told me today has simply confirmed my theory."
"Why would Legolas not say anything? Why would he let it happen?"
"You have never been in love Elrohir. Sometimes our love is so all consuming, it blinds us to the realities of a situation. Sometimes we can no longer see when the love is gone from the other half of the relationship." The lore master lowered his tone, massaging his temples. "And Legolas is proud. The thought that someone might find out about his being beaten regularly likely horrifies him. He may well be ashamed of what is going on."
"Ashamed? Why should he be the one to feel embarrassed? It is Glorfindel who should be ashamed of his behaviour."
"But I doubt Legolas will see it that way," his father explained patiently.
Elrohir clenched his hands into fists, ready to seek out Glorfindel and give him a taste of his own medicine. How dare he harm such a perfect creature? If Elrohir had been the one to hold the prince's heart, he would be worshipping the ground the blonde walked upon, not using his fair body to vent his anger on.
Sensing his son's rage and indignation, Elrond spoke quickly "Do not interfere in this, Elrohir, it is not our place. Legolas has to come to a decision himself. He will need a supportive friend, which is the role you must assume. We must simply watch our Greenleaf carefully in the next few months, and pray he makes the right choice himself."
Chapter 4
Six weeks had passed since the incident with the twins in the training field, and Legolas was relieved to discover that after their initial shock, they had decided to back off and ceased to press him for answers. His relationship with Glorfindel was no less volatile, but the blonde lord seemed to have become more subtle- he no longer hit Legolas where the bruises might show, and made sure that a suitable excuse was concocted in case someone should notice any telling marks.
Despite this, Legolas became steadily more withdrawn, paranoid that somehow people might be able to tell just be looking at him what was happening. The only people he would still agree to meet with regularly were the twins, Elrohir in particular. He had always felt closest to Elrohir, ever since both Peredhil were fostered in the Greenwood as children, but over the past few weeks they had become closer than ever. So many times he had been tempted to pour out everything to the younger twin, desperate for the warmth and understanding that Elrohir seemed to radiate. Thus far however, he had managed to keep his emotions in check. He did not want one moment of weakness to cause him to lose his closest and most trusted friend. The time he spent with the Peredhil was the only part of the day when he could relax and be carefree, and Legolas cherished their meetings.
The prince smiled as he braided his hair. His friends would be waiting for him now at the stables, ready to ride out into the forest. It would let him escape his troubles, even if only for and hour or two, and his heart felt lightened already.
"Where do you think you're going?" The leaden weight returned, Legolas' heart sinking. //Not now, please not now.// "I'm only riding with the twins, meleth, I will be gone but I couple of hours, in time to serve you this evening." Glorfindel stood leaning on the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. At Legolas' words, his lips curled into an unpleasant sneer. "I might have known you'd be creeping off to your slutty little Elrohir. You spend more time with him than me." Legolas bit down his frustration, forcing himself to remain calm. "He is my friend, nothing more." Glorfindel stepped forward threateningly, his face contorted in a snarl. "You expect me to believe that? With you always running off with them?" "I have the right to see my friends." "And what of my rights? Do you forget your duty to me? I won't have you seeing them anymore, and that's final!" Legolas' outrage boiled over, and he yelled straight back.
"You don't own me!"
As soon as the words had left his lips, Legolas knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Panicking, he held out his hands, preparing to apologise, when Glorfindel suddenly moved. Roaring in fury at being opposed, the Elda lashed out brutally, knocking the smaller elf to the floor.
Legolas tried to use his arms to protect himself from the hail of blows raining down on him, but his lover's superior strength defeated him. He couldn't defend himself against the constant flow of punches and kicks Glorfindel directed at him. A particularly savage kick to the stomach left him gasping for breath, curling up instinctively. His chest felt fit to explode, each breath he took was a form of torment. Screwing his eyes tightly shut, he waited, panting, for the outburst to end.
Breathing heavily from the exertion, Glorfindel finally ceased the punishment on his lover's body, looking down at him contemptuously. "Go to your precious Elrohir, whore. Get out of my sight!" Legolas drew a deep, painful breath, clutching at a table leg, unable to rise in his current state. Growling with impatience, Glorfindel hauled him up by the arm, ignoring the pained cry that issued from his lover's lips. Dragging the injured elf to the door, the blonde lord tossed him from the room into the cold corridor beyond.
Legolas was barely able to cling to the stone wall outside the room to keep himself from falling. He felt dizzy and sick from the pain, but persevered, trying to remain upright as he traversed the hallway. He was so preoccupied with the task of making it to the stables without collapsing that he failed to notice the horrified looks he received from passing citizens- though he was too disorientated to realise it, warm red blood dripped from his nose and a gash on his cheek, he clothes were in a state of complete disarray, and his hair was a dishevelled, bloody mess. His breaths became increasingly laboured, but he struggled on towards where he knew the twins would be waiting. The pain was too intense for him to be capable of rational thought, and his lover's final words to him replayed over and over in his head.
After what felt like an age, the battered prince staggered out into the stable yard, startling a group of young stable boys with his bedraggled appearance. Darkness began to blur the edges of his vision, and he suddenly felt an almighty stabbing pain in the side of his chest, like a dagger was being thrust into him. Spitting up blood, he barely saw the Peredhil racing towards him. "Legolas! Gods, what happened to you?" At Elrohir's anguished cry, Legolas turned unseeing eyes towards the twins. He managed one step before he faltered, swooning into the younger twin's outstretched arms. Shouting in alarm, Elrohir scooped up the prince's limp body, carrying him securely. "Brother, run ahead to the healers!" Without a second's hesitation, Elladan raced in the direction of the Healing House. As fast as he could travel without jostling his delicate his delicate cargo, Elrohir set off after his brother, thanking every deity he could name that the healers were stationed close to the stables. It was a measure designed to ensure wounded soldiers arriving from battles were treated swiftly in times of war, but now it looked set to save his friend's life.
A clutch of healers stood waiting for him as he approached the steps of the Healing House, and his burden was quickly taken from him and borne inside. Amid the confusion and flurry of activity, Elrohir was able to make out his father, directing the other healers and barking out orders. At the other side of the porch he saw Elladan, pale and scared. Suddenly both he and his brother were being shepherded inside, though in the opposite direction to the prince.
Head spinning, Elrohir let himself be led into a cool, quiet and completely empty ward. Feeling nauseous, he was unresisting as he felt himself pushed to sit on an empty bed, Elladan doing the same. Shock was making him shiver violently, he was immensely grateful when the healer taking care of him wrapped a woollen blanket around his shoulders. Clutching it close, he looked up hopefully at the elf that had given it to him. "Will he be alright?" She shrugged apologetically. "I cannot say. The healers are with him now, they will be able to tell you more when they are finished." Elrohir nodded weakly, sick to the stomach, bracing himself for an agonising wait.