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!)
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Chapter 11
This was the final straw, Elrond decided grimly as he led four armed guards, including his youngest son, down the hallway leading to Legolas' and Glorfindel's quarters. He himself was armed with a long, slim knife, but he didn't truly expect to need it- it was his healer's kit that he felt would most likely be required. This time however, he was determined to put an end to Glorfindel's reign of terror whether he had Legolas' cooperation or not. It had been fortunate that Ithiliel had stayed at home to nurse her new babe instead of going with the other elves to the Revels, or there would have been no one present to report the disturbance in the prince's quarters- which, Elrond reflected, was likely to have been Glorfindel's plan. However, the blonde lord had not reckoned on Ithiliel, who had immediately come to Elrond in the Great Hall, reporting loud bangs and shouting from within the pair's quarters, as well as a scream loud enough to wake her baby.
Elrond had wasted no time in assembling a small escort to arrest the Elda, inviting his son Elrohir, who though not on duty, insisted on coming to the prince's aid. Elladan had gone to warn the healers of possible injuries, and the five armed elves had set off for the scene of the disturbance.
Elrond brought them to a halt in front of the prince's door and banged heavily on the wood. "Glorfindel? Open this door immediately!" When silence greeted Elrond's shout, he tried the handle- locked. The lore master nodded to the nearest guard and stood back as he moved in to force the door in. After a few tries the door banged open, allowing the group to step inside. The scene that greeted them made an ominous sickness grow inside the lord of Imladris.
On the floor by the wall was a pool of blood, with a spattering on the floor at the other side of the floor. A rope was tied to one of the torch brackets and now dangles above the blood pool, with fraying pieces lying on the surrounding floor, cut in haste. "Lord Elrond?" Elrond turned to see one of the guards kneeling a few feet away, a slim brown object in his hands; A belt, and on closer inspection, one stained with blood. Elrond's lips thinned. "Search these chambers for Glorfindel- I want him arrested and tied up on the spot. Elrohir- look to Legolas."
The guards, once confused as to their coming here, paled with a sudden understanding. Elrond looked up sharply. "None of you are to speak of what you see here today, unless it is before and inquiry. Now make haste." The group split up to search the suite for the Elda lord, save for Elrond and Elrohir, who together searched instead for the prince, fearing the worst. A shout from the bedroom brought the pair running, but instead of Legolas, they found two guards supporting an unconscious Glorfindel in a semi-upright position, while the third held aloft an empty wine bottle. "The room is full of these, but there is no since of Prince Legolas, my lord." Elrond nodded. "Take him to the cells. Treat him as highly dangerous when he wakes- a guard must be posted at all times." "Aye sir." The guards bowed their heads respectfully and left, dragging the seneschal behind them.
In the silence that followed, Elrond heard the faintest of whimpers, coming from behind the locked closet door. Elrohir's abruptly alert face told him that his son had heard it too and he made his way over to the door. He turned the key in the lock and stepped inside the long-empty, disused walk- in wardrobe, Elrohir close behind him. In the gloom, Elrond could just make out the prince, naked and curled on his side in the foetal position in the back corner of the room, gazing up in abject terror at the two silhouetted forms in the doorway. Elrond's heart stilled in his chest as he looked down at Legolas, who was covered in blood and trembling like a leaf. "Elrohir, a blanket." Elrohir left the closet and Elrond edged a little closer to the blonde elf on the floor, eventually coming to kneel by his side. He stretched out a hand and Legolas whimpered quietly and shrank back, afraid. "Peace, Legolas, It's alright, it's all over now. It's me, Elrond." Elrohir reappeared at his father's side with a blanket, and tucked it round Legolas' body, hoping it would at least make the prince feel less exposed.
"Legolas? It's Elrohir, everything is going to be fine." Elrond gently began to stroke the blonde's blood-caked hair, murmuring nonsensical words of comfort, knowing he had to calm the elf before he could carry him from the room to be treated. When the young elf's shivers had decreased a little, he wrapped the blanket more securely round the prince and slid his hands carefully beneath him. As gently as he could, the lore master lifted Legolas into his arms, wincing as his patient moaned in pain. Elrohir held open the door to let them pass, and together they started on their way to the Healing House. They were forced to re-evaluate their plans however, when they were greeted at the door by a gaggle of curious elves, having left the feast to see what all the commotion was about. Legolas tensed in Elrond's arms and the lord cursed under his breath, moving swiftly through the babbling elves and going in the opposite direction from the healers.
Round the first corner, Elrohir lifted a tapestry that concealed a secret door, and pushed it open. Elrond stepped into the hidden passage it revealed, his haste increasing now as he felt the prince's hot tears wetting the front of his robes. Imladris was full of secret passages like this one, leading for the most part to his own quarters. They had been designed to provide a means of escape for the valley's lord and his family in case of attack, but they would serve well now as a way to transport the prince to safety without exposing him to the stares of nosy townspeople. The quiet, passive behaviour of the elf in his arms made Elrond worry even further- what had Glorfindel done to reduce the prince to this state? The lore master had his suspicions, but until he could examine Legolas, he wouldn't know.
The three travelled in silence save for Legolas' ragged breathing, and Elrond was relieved when they finally reached the sanctuary of his own quarters. Legolas was clearly badly hurt, and Elrond wanted to examine him as soon as possible. Once again Elrohir rushed ahead to open the secret door that led directly to the half-elf's bedroom and Elrond quickened his pace, anxious to tend to his injured charge. As softly as possible he lowered Legolas onto the mattress and began peeling back the blanket he was wrapped in. The prince abruptly seized the end of the fabric away from the half-elf and wrapped it even tighter about himself, fear and anguish showing in every gesture. "No!" Legolas began to hyperventilate, seized with panic. He couldn't let Elrond examine him! Then he would know he had been raped, and he couldn't live with the shame. They already thought him weak for letting Glorfindel abuse him, they would be disgusted if they knew.
He curled up again, shrinking back from Elrond. The movement pulled at his wounds and he winced at the pain, something that was not lost on Elrond. The lore master had his suspicions about the nature of Legolas' hurts, and the prince's unwillingness to be examined only strengthened them. He appreciated Legolas' feelings, but he could not let the blonde go untreated; all he could do was make the experience as easy and painless as possible for the youth. "Elrohir, please leave us alone a while. Go tell the healers that I will treat Legolas here, and wait outside when you are finished."
Elrohir looked outraged and was about to protest, prompting Elrond to sharpen his tone. "Now please, Elrohir." With a last, concerned glance at the prone blonde, the younger twin obeyed, leaving Elrond and Legolas quite alone. Careful not to further spook his patient, Elrond knelt down by the bed, eye to eye with the prince, extending his hand to stroke Legolas' hair. "Legolas, I understand how difficult this is for you, but I must examine you. Left untreated your wounds could become infected and would be a thousand times worse. I'm afraid I can offer no anaesthetic to let you sleep- with a concussion it might well drag you under." He saw Legolas' eye widen and quickly added, " I promise I will not judge you."
Legolas' eyes met his cautiously and he nodded his permission, though Elrond still read hesitance and distrust in the blue depths. //Little wonder,// he thought to himself, //after what he's been through.// Doing his best to smile reassuringly, Elrond slowly pulled the blanket away from the blonde's body and attempted to lay him on his back. A pained little noise escaped the prince's lips and Elrond desisted, concerned. Leaning over he gasped as he saw what the darkness of the closet had masked. The skin of Legolas' back was torn and bloody, announcing clearly that he had been whipped, and dried blood and semen stained his inner thighs. Disgust for the Elda welled up inside him, but Elrond willed himself back to focusing on treating the prince. There was also bad bruising on Legolas' abdomen and face, a bad gash across his right nipple and chest, a nasty cut on his temple, and his wrists had been rubbed raw by the rope which bound him. The half-elf rose and crossed to the sideboard, rummaging for a moment, and returning to the bed with all the bandages, bottles and supplies that he would require.
As Legolas was on his side, Elrond started with the injuries on his face, wrists and abdomen, rubbing arnica tenderly into the bruises. Next he carefully cleaned the cuts on chest and forehead, before helping the prince to lie on his front. He fetched the basin, jug and sponge from the dresser and poured some clean water out, wetting the sponge and using it to clean the dried blood away from Legolas' back. The body beneath him shook a little, but the young archer remained silent. Working as quickly as he could, Elrond cleaned the deep welts and rubbed antiseptic into them, hearing Legolas' hiss at the sting. Nudging Legolas to lift himself from the mattress a little, the half-elf wrapped clean bandages around his back, pinning them and lowering the prince to the sheets again.
Finally, he turned his attention to the blonde's internal injury. Gingerly washing the blood and semen from Legolas' thighs, Elrond felt him stiffen with panic and began whispering in a low, soothing voice as he continued to bathe the wound. Once he had finished the external area, Elrond quietly asked for permission to continue. "Legolas, I will need to check inside of you, to make sure the wound is clean and decrease the chance of infection." Legolas simply nodded, avoiding the lord's eyes. His silence troubled Elrond, but he pressed on, eager to end the prince's ordeal as quickly as possible.
Wetting his fingers, he placed them at Legolas' opening, his other hand moving to hold Legolas'. Slowly he slid one wet digit into the ravaged channel, adding a little more water with the sponge. Elrond felt Legolas squeeze his hand and he squeezed back in sympathy. He withdrew his finger and washed away the blood, then covered his fingers liberally in a salve that would speed the healing process and help prevent infection. He slid two fingers inside scissored, coating the abused flesh again, before gently withdrawing and washing his hands.
Setting his healing kit aside on the dresser, Elrond returned to Legolas' side, sitting on the bed next to him. "Thank you for trusting me, pen-neth. Would you prefer to lie on your side?" Legolas nodded silently and let Elrond ease him onto his side. He didn't trust himself to speak, lest the sobs that threatened to erupt should further shame him. Elrond draped a light sheet over his body to preserve his modesty. "Try to get some rest. Would you like me to stay with you?" Legolas nodded gratefully, not ready to be left alone yet.
One by one, the torches and candles that lit the room were extinguished, until only one small candle on the dresser remained alight, Elrond rightly guessing Legolas' wouldn't feel comfortable in total darkness. Legolas tried to close his mind to the memories threatening to overpower him, eager for sleep and peace. Eventually, his physical exhaustion overcame his fraught mind and his eyes grew vacant in elven sleep.
Seeing at last that the prince slumbered in relative peace, Elrond leant over him, holding Vilya above the damaged body. Channelling his own strength into Legolas, the lord felt himself grow weak, the archer's punished body hungrily accepting any energy available. Breaking the connection. Elrond stood still a moment, catching his breath and clearing his head. The power of Vilya would help the prince to heal more quickly, but Legolas still had a long road ahead of him. Once the dizziness had passed, Elrond left silently, seeking his son.
It was no surprise to find Elrohir waiting restlessly in the next room, pacing in front of the empty fireplace. He snapped back to attention when he heard his father enter, bursting with questions about the blonde. "He is resting now. I'm sorry I had to send you away, but the examination was hard enough for him without the added humiliation of an audience." Elrohir's ire faded as he realised the logic and compassion of his father's actions, swiftly replaced by guilt at his selfishness. "What did that beast do to him, Ada?" Elrond's sadness showed in his mist-grey eyes. "He raped him, pen-neth. Legolas will probably never be the same again, you never truly recover from something like this."
Elrohir felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. So it was rape then; his darkest fears had come true. Seeing his son's lost expression, Elrond enfolded his youngest in his arms, his paternal instincts- already stimulated by the prince- getting the better of him. Elrohir welcomed the comforting touch, inking bonelessly against his father. "He will need your support more than ever, ion." Elrond pulled back, looking into Elrohir's face. "I think you should be there when he wakes." "I will watch over him through the night," he vowed. Feeling better now he had some purpose, Elrohir left his father's side to take his place at Legolas' bedside. He was about to open the door when Elrond stopped him. "Don't push him, Elrohir- he is fragile, mentally and physically." "I know. I'll take good care of him." With that he resumed his course to his love's side, determined to prove his words true.
Legolas was indeed sleeping as his father had said, lying on his side, blonde hair - matted and red-tinged with blood - fanned out on the pillow. It would be a while until Legolas' wounds would be healed sufficiently to allow him to take a bath, but perhaps in the meantime there might be something to remove the vivid reminder of his ordeal. Cautiously, Elrohir lay down a few inches from the prince, so that they were facing each other. Conscious of the blonde's nudity, he lay on top of the sheet that covered Legolas, knowing the prince would be feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment. The coming months, perhaps even years, would require much patience, but Elrohir silently promised himself and the sleeping prince that he would be there to support him every step of the way.
He lost track of the hours that passed, musing over his own thoughts and gazing into Legolas' vacant eyes. A movement from Legolas brought him out of his reverie however, forcing him to concentrate. Legolas' brow was knit, and he had started to twitch agitatedly. He murmured faintly and twisted in his sleep, clearly in the throes of nightmares.
Elrohir began to stroke his face tenderly, whispering sweet nothings, hoping his voice would reassure the blonde. Legolas quietened a little and stilled, but still whimpered almost inaudibly. Drawing nearer so that their noses were almost touching, Elrohir ran his fingers through blonde locks. "Shh, Legolas, you are safe. I'm going to look after you." The sound of his voice seemed to be effective, for Legolas stopped fidgeting and buried his face in Elrohir's hair, clutching at the front of his robe. Elrohir continued to caress his love's hair and scalp, keeping the nightmares at bay. He would be strong for Legolas.
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Chapter 12
The first thing Legolas became aware of as he struggled towards wakefulness was something soft tickling his nose. He tried to pull away but stopped dead and moaned in pain as sharp daggers of pain danced up his back at the movement. Forcing his eyes open and shaking the cobwebs from his brain, Legolas began to panic as he realised there was a hand resting heavily on his hip, and the tickling sensation came from a mass of dark hair. His chest began to tighten as memories were awoken.
Elrohir woke at the sound of Legolas' laboured breathing and cursed his own stupidity. Why had he thought Legolas would want anyone this close? Bringing his hand to rest on Legolas' head, Elrohir forced their eyes of meet- Legolas' wild-eyed, frightened stare with his own calm, steady gaze. "Legolas, peace, it is Elrohir." Fingers threaded into bloodstained strands. "Be still meldir, all is well."
Legolas' breathing remained ragged and heavy but he ceased his struggles and kept his eyes locked with Elrohir's. Now he realised who was holding him, his shock and terror began to fade; Elrohir would not hurt him, Elrohir had been kind to him. He hadn't scorned him, and he had come to rescue him last night, he remembered him bringing a blanket, a gesture Legolas had greatly appreciated. He shuddered as his thoughts returned to that night; awaking alone and aching in the darkness of the closet; Glorfindel beating him, whipping him, tearing him. The fiery pain centring on his most intimate place provided an inescapable reminder of what Glorfindel had done to him. Gods, he could even smell the Elda's sweat and the musky smell of sex still clinging to his body. He grew agitated again as the thought seemed to grow, becoming a monster in his mind, drowning him in the scent of Glorfindel, making his skin crawl as he felt phantom hands on him again. He wanted to scrape all trace of the blonde from his bruised skin. He had never felt so utterly soiled.
Elrohir noticed his increasing distress and began to speak softly, keeping their eyes locked, giving Legolas no choice but to focus on the present and not on his memories. "Father will come to see you again soon, do not fret, it cannot be long before you will be able to bathe again. And when you are better, we can visit Greenwood, you and I. Won't it be good to see your family again?" Legolas nodded timidly, spurring Elrohir on to continue, wracking brains for inane banter. He knew he was rambling, but the tactic seemed fairly effective- the blonde was not becoming restless and agitated, as he had done before, though he still wore a lost expression on his face. Feeling buoyed, Elrohir kept up the chatter about everything from the success of the New Year revel to Erestor's newest pet project, the construction of a new longer archery range, similar in design to those found in Lorien and the prince's native Greenwood. He was mortified then, when abruptly, while he was discussing Elladan's proposal for a combined hunting expedition in the autumn, Legolas burst into anguished, noisy tears, hot salty water pouring down his cheeks and lip trembling. Horrified, Elrohir stroked the side of Legolas' face, but swiftly desisted when Legolas flinched at the touch. Feeling helpless, all Elrohir could do was wait for the sobs to subside, sitting impotently by as Legolas curled up tighter beneath the sheet.
Legolas hissed as he curled himself up, but otherwise ignored the pain the motion caused. He knew he shouldn't be crying like this- Elrohir was no doubt shaking his head above him in disgust. Warriors weren't supposed to cry, it was unbecoming to be seen so unmanned. But something inside him had been broken, a dam had been burst, and he was helpless to hold back the flow. He wanted to explain, to tell Elrohir how dirty he felt; how he could feel Glorfindel's breath on his neck, his hands grasping his body; how something had been stolen from him and now he was lost.
But he remained silent; these weren't feelings he could into words. After a time, he slumped exhausted into the pillows, tears finally spent. Elrohir's heart wrenched- Legolas was shattered. Glorfindel was going to suffer for this, Elrohir would see to it personally. Seeing Legolas calming, all agitation leaving his fragile form, Elrohir made one final plea. "Don't let him get away with this. Will you speak out against him?"
Anger welled up in Legolas as his injuries burned in agony even at the faint pressure of the light sheet draped over him and he nodded. Where once the thought of Glorfindel had made his heart sing with love, there was now a deep pain and hatred growing inside. This time he had pushed too far- this time Glorfindel would pay for his betrayal.
* * * Elrond stood quietly before a single stone arch in the wall, leading into the lower reaches of Imladris. For such an unhappy morning, the air was warm and pleasant, the sun shone, and the birds sang indecorously in the trees. The peaceful scene was quite inconsonant with his grave purpose; surely nature should reflect something of the chaos and woe that had come to a head only the night before? But no, the day was beautiful despite the ugliness of spirit he was about to confront.
The archway led him further downwards, into the caves that had originally made the valley such an attractive location for the half-elf to build his sanctuary. It was a path he knew well; although now the dungeon was barely used, lying empty for two centuries, there had been darker days in Imladris' history, times of war and danger when the prison had served good purpose. Ironic, though, that the most dangerous of all these should come from within the valley sanctuary- for he who can present a false face of charm and honesty is often the most deadly, as he cannot easily be marked, the lore master reflected. 'Twas sad too, to see how a once great elf and treasured friend had fallen to such depravity.
The guards stood to attention as they saw Elrond enter. The most senior among them, a neri about half Elrond's age, stood forward to offer a bow and an update on their prisoner. "My lord, we have placed Lord Glorfindel under strict guard; four armed soldiers are present at the cell at all times." "Has he spoken?" "He has awoken but remains silent, Lord." Elrond nodded his thanks and swept past the commander in search of his fallen seneschal, deeper in the gloom of the cave.
It did not take very long. In front the first row of cells he approached, four well-built, vigilant guards stood watch, raising their weapons at his footsteps before lowering them upon further identification. Glorfindel lay on his back on a sparse wooden bed behind an iron grill, hands folded behind his head and staring into space. Blood still stained his fingernails and spattered his tunic, but he seemed unconcerned, not even turning to acknowledge his lord as Elrond stepped up to the grill, Guards moving aside respectfully.
"I have come to inform you that your sentence hearing will take place in two weeks time to the day, once a deputation from Greenwood has arrived and all charges have been decided on. I think we can forgo the usual complaint and presentation of evidence to the Lord of Imladris, as I have already seen with my own eyes all the evidence I need to lock you up for eternity." Glorfindel remained silent and still as a stone, looking up at the ceiling, casual and indifferent. Elrond's anger surged. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself? Don't you feel even a shred of remorse over what you did?"
Glorfindel at last deigned to cast a disinterested look in Elrond's direction. "What business is it of yours what I do with my own property?" Elrond's lips twisted in disgust. "You do not own Legolas, he stays with you of his own free will. He is not your slave!" Glorfindel smirked, the smug expression forcing Elrond to work extremely hard not to grab the nearest weapon and slit the Elda's throat. "I think you will find, my lord, that is exactly what he is. The slut had it coming to him; he deserved to be punished." "Nothing Legolas could do would ever justify your treatment of him. You betrayed and abused someone who loved you, and I vow to see you brought to justice."
Glorfindel returned to staring blankly at the ceiling, gloating smile still playing on his lips. "You will do nothing Elrond, because Legolas will not let you. I have him in the palm of my hand- he will never say anything that might incriminate me. Whether you want to or not, you cannot lift a finger against me unless he asks you to." He laughed, a bark sounding from his throat. "He will say nothing, and if you pursue the issue, I will raise such a fuss over your false prosecution and harassment that you will wish you had never met the little prince. You wouldn't want Celeborn to get wind of your attempts at miscarriage of justice." Elrond's lips thinned. "You are despicable." The only answer Glorfindel gave was to laugh, a cold, almost manic sound. The seneschal's laughter followed Elrond as he turned angrily on his heel and stalked out of the dungeon, the sound echoing in the high stone walls, amplifying the volume. Elrond bristled as it rang in his ears; Legolas would have to testify.
* * * Elrohir lovingly watched Legolas sleep, chest rising and falling gently with his breathing. Nightmares had tormented the prince for the last hour, but it seemed that he had now entered a deeper, dreamless period of sleep. Elrohir was relieved- he hated to watch his love in such clear distress, but feared that waking him might frighten the blonde even further.
The slight click of the door in the next room alerted the younger peredhel to his father's coming, and he waited patiently from his place on the bed. As he had predicted, a gentle knocking came, followed by his father's dark head appearing round the door. "Ada." Elrohir smiled, grateful for the comfort his father's ever-calm presence offered. Elrond placed a chaste kiss upon the crown of his youngest's head. "How has he slept?" "Not well, he's only begun to sleep peacefully- nightmares plague him." Elrond looked grave but not surprised. "It is as I thought it would be. What are his intentions towards Glorfindel now?" Elrohir met his father's eyes with some satisfaction. "He will speak against Glorfindel." Elrond nearly laughed with relief. "Then I will see to it that he is brought to justice, for Legolas' sake. Though, I fear it may well be me who will be protecting Glorfindel soon, when the Greenwood party are informed of the charges against him."
Elrohir looked at him suspiciously. "Greenwood? Thranduil is sending an envoy?" Elrond shook his head. "Nay, son; Thranduil is coming himself. I managed to catch the young Silinde last night for a few words, and he reluctantly revealed to me that King Thranduil and his escort set out for Imladris a fortnight ago- they will arrive within days." Elrohir's eyebrows rose. "Thranduil will be coming here?" Such important persons rarely left the security of their realms. "Aye; it seems he has been greatly concerned for Legolas for some time, but my letter regarding his injuries was the final straw. He has grown tired of his son's silence."
Elrohir sat pensively, considering the implications of this new revelation. He had known from Elladan's words that a Greenwood deputation would be coming to the valley- however he had not expected one quite so soon. Would Legolas be ready to face his family so soon after his ordeal? As if reading his mind, Elrond enmeshed his fingers with his son's and gave his palm a squeeze. "He will need his family to support him through this. Thranduil loves him, he will not turn him away." "You are right. It will be good for him to see his father again."
Elrond rose and stretched, thoroughly drained of energy, and offered his hand to the still-seated Elrohir. "Will you come to get some rest and nourishment?" Elrohir looked down at the sleeping blonde and shook his head gently. "No, I don't want him to be alone when he wakes." Elrond sighed- he had suspected Elrohir's reply to be something along those lines. "Very well, but I'm sending Elladan here with a tray, and I want you to eat well. If you can manage, try to encourage Legolas to drink plenty of fluids and try some food, I'll send up some broth for him." Elrohir smiled happily. "Thank you ada." * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 13
Elladan sat by the window, listening to the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the glass. He let his temple rest against the windowpane, distractedly drawing patters in the patch of steam created by his breath. His other hand stroked reassuringly through a mass of dark brown locks, identical to his own, as he cradled his younger brother to his body protectively. He let his sleeping twin cuddle close and pillow his head on his shoulder, the way they had done when they were children, more than a century ago.
The past few days had taken a heavy toll on Elrohir, and Elladan was determined to give him some respite from his woes, however brief. Four days since Glorfindel's arrest, matters were going from bad to worse. Though Legolas had begun to heal physically- though progress was frighteningly slow for an elf, the bleeding from his torn passage had ceased, and scabs were beginning to form over the welts on his back- however the emotional strain had simply overwhelmed the blonde: on the second day after the attack, Legolas suffered a nervous breakdown.
The entire time had passed in a blur for Elladan, it was really only now that he could begin to make sense of the last few days. Elrond had come in to check on Legolas that fateful morning, (after prying Elrohir away from Legolas' side the night before), to find his bed empty. After a desperate search- and the quick dispatch of a vassal to check that Glorfindel was still safely locked up in the cells- the prince was found cowering in a corner behind heavy velvet curtains, trembling badly and shrinking back from Elrond's touch.
Once Elrond had managed to get close enough to examine him, the lore master had diagnosed a mental breakdown and attempted to put the blonde back to bed. He had resisted strongly, so Elrond settled for wrapping a blanket around him and gently coaxing him into drinking a mild sedative. When Legolas was no longer so agitated, the half-elf had carried him to the bed, dressed him in a warm sleeping robe, and tucked him in.
Since then Legolas had been placed on a strict course of hypericum perforatum, but a marked change had come over the blonde since that day. He had spent the last three days huddled beneath a blanket, sitting alone in the dark, unresponsive and withdrawn. His haunted eyes showed that the prince was trapped in his own private nightmare, unreachable with kind words or gestures. Instead of shying away from touch, he seemed to be almost unaware of it, staring blankly into space. Legolas passively allowed Elrond's examinations and treatments but made no acknowledgement of the lore master, nor had he uttered a word in the three days.
Elrond had by now moved into an empty guest room, leaving his own chambers to his young patient. He feared further upheaval would only cause Legolas to withdraw further into his own world, and his quarters- in a secluded part of the house - offered more privacy for his recovery than the aseptic rooms in the Healing House. Inevitably, Elrohir had been worried sick about the object of his desire, but Elrond had refused any save himself access to the prince, insisting he needed peace and quiet to recover. The party from Greenwood were yet to arrive, much to the peredhil's chagrin. Elrohir had clung to the hope that his family's presence might be enough to rouse the prince from his deep depression, and their failure to appear thus far had begun to concern and frighten the younger twin.
As if he knew Elladan was thinking of him, Elrohir stirred within his brother's arms, nuzzling the elder twin's neck in his sleep. Elladan tightened his hold protectively, resting his chin on his younger brother's head, they way they had sat together when they were elflings frightened by a storm. The day seemed to crawl by, minutes stretching out into hours, until at last the golden afternoon grew ripe and heavy, Arien at her zenith. Elladan himself began to doze, lulled into a light slumber by the balmy air and the warm body snuggled against him. He sunk back in the window seat, leaning his weight on the window and wooden shutters, the tension that had built up from the trials of the last four days leaving his body as blissful sleep descended.
A faint neighing sounded from the distance, but in his torpor Elladan heard nothing. As his mind stood poised on the cusp of deep sleep, a clattering of hooves upon stone cobbles caused him to jerk awake, his brusque movement in turn waking Elrohir. Over his twin's disgruntled mumbling, Elladan could hear the sound of at least a dozen horses riding into the courtyard beneath them. The racket ceased as the riders came to a halt and a loud, commanding voice gave the order to dismount. Elladan's heart gave a leap. Could it be them? Using his sleeve to wipe the fog from the glass, Elladan peered down into the yard below. Assembled were fifteen elves and their mounts, all arrayed in the distinctive forest greens and browns of Greenwood. Standing at the head of the group, handing his steed to a waiting stable hand was Thranduil. Emanating majesty and authority even in his travel soiled leathers; Thranduil was unmistakable amongst the other elves. "Elrohir, they're here, look!"
Elrohir, who by now had managed to shake off a little of his lassitude, turned in his seat to press his nose up against the pane. The sight of the Greenwood party was enough to disperse the last lingering lethargy from his brain. "King Thranduil." In an instant, the younger twin was up and pulling Elladan to his feet. "Come on, let us greet them."
* * * Elrond stepped out from behind the stone archway, braving the rain as he approached King Thranduil and his retinue. "Mae govannen, Thranduil." The king clasped his shoulder in greeting. "Mae govannen, Elrond." "I only wish our long-overdue reunion was taking place under happier circumstances." Thranduil frowned, concern written in the lines of his face. "Where is he? What has happened to him? I want to see my son, Elrond." Elrond held up a pacifying hand. "And I will take you to him, meldir, however first we need to talk." He signalled to a manservant to take the king's baggage. "Perhaps you might wish to change out of your wet clothing too. Lindir, my seneschal, shall show your men to the quarters arranged for them, if you would please follow me." Thranduil stopped him. "One moment- I wish for my sons, Vanamar and Calenfen, to lodge close to me."
Elrond blinked in surprise as Thranduil gestured to two handsome youths, as blonde as their father but otherwise living pictures of their mother, who bowed respectfully as his eyes alighted on them. The lore master was ashamed to say he had not recognised them at first and taken them for soldiers- the last time he had seen them was at Legolas' naming ceremony, when they had been but children. Now he considered it however, there was a certain richness to the fabrics they wore that denoted them as elves of some wealth and import and distinguished them from the guards surrounding them. "Of course; if you would all like to follow me I will arrange appropriate lodgings for both your sons." The two youths spoke their thanks and followed as the half-elf led them down a stone passage deeper into the Last Homely House.
Elrond paused at the top of the stairs to ensure his guests did not get left behind- they were currently halfway up the stone steps, conversing in low voices. He was about to resume leading the three to the guestrooms, when a loud call halted him. "Ada!" Elladan called as Elrohir dragged him by the arm down the corridor, "ada they're here, the elves from Greenwood- oh." Elladan trailed off, as an amused Thranduil appeared behind his father's shoulder, followed by two elves that could only be older versions of Vanamar and Calenfen, the two brothers closest to Legolas in age.
Elrond raised an eyebrow at Elrohir's sleep-tousled hair and creased robes, but chose not to comment on the twins' less than regal appearance. "Your Majesty, my sons, Elladan and Elrohir, though I am certain you are already well acquainted." Both twins smiled and bowed their heads in greeting; they were certainly on familiar terms with the King and his family, having fostered for several years with the royal family in Greenwood. Though, it had been a century since they last met. Elrond gave them both a pointed look. .
"Wait in my study, I shall be through shortly." "Yes ada," they chorused, and with a hasty bow to the King, they disappeared in a crumpled mass of hair, fabric and limbs in the direction from whence they came. Elrond turned back to his waiting charges and bowed apologetically. "This way please."
The conversation between the three visiting elves had ceased, and the next part of their journey together began in uncomfortable silence. The half-elf willed Thranduil or his sons to come up with some conversation as their footsteps sounded unnaturally loud on the stone floors. At last Thranduil broke the silence. "You say Lindir is now your seneschal- what happened to Glorfindel?" This was not quite what Elrond had in mind when he had prayed for conversation, and his reply was guarded. "He is no longer serving me in that capacity. It is one of many things we need to discuss, in private."
The discomfort of the situation was rescued as they entered the guest corridor. Elrond gestured to the first large ebony door on the left. "Your highnesses, you will find a suite that I hope will meet your needs through here." Vanamar bowed in thanks. "We are grateful, my lord." The pair, followed by the vassal carrying their light luggage, disappeared into the room beyond, leaving Elrond and Thranduil alone save for a single vassal loaded with the King's luggage. They continued down the hall to Thranduil's rather grander room, one Elrond knew that the King had favoured in the past. "I admit I was surprised to here that you had left your kingdom." "I left my eldest, Firloss, in charge. He is old enough now, and it will do him good to learn before he takes the crown." Elrond nodded sympathetically; he had oft considered giving his own sons more responsibility in preparation for their eventual ascent to full lordship. "Here is your own chamber; shall I send a servant in half an hour to bring you to my study? I think we will be best to talk there." Thranduil shook his head. "I know the way. Until then." Elrond stood back and let Thranduil and the vassal enter the suite, the door clicking shut behind them. Though the King might be suspicious of him and his family, Elrond was heartily glad he was here.
* * * Thranduil stalked alone down the halls of Imladris, determined to reach the half-elf's study and force news of his son out of Elrond as soon as physically possible. It frustrated him that Elrond had refused to tell him outright what was going on, but another part of him quailed at the thought of what might have happened that could make the lord unwilling to impart the information. He was a fool, he decided; when Legolas stopped responding to his letters one hundred years ago he should have sent someone to investigate immediately, not let the situation escalate to this. What if Legolas had died? Was that the reason Elrond wouldn't let him see his son? But surely he would have felt it if Legolas had died, wouldn't he? Dread consumed him, morbidly considering the terrible possibilities. And how dare Elrond keep him hanging in this suspense? Anxiety fuelling his anger, Thranduil stormed through the corridors, not even pausing to knock as he flung wide the study door. "Where is he, Elrond? Tell me!"
Elrond and his sons looked up in alarm; a raging Thranduil was a dangerous thing to have around at the best of times, but with what they had to tell him. "Thranduil, please calm yourself, before you can see Legolas, we must explain some things." "Either you take me to him or I shall slay you where you stand!" Elrond sighed, worried at the king's volatile mood. "Please meldir, you cannot see him like this! He is so fragile already, you could well cause another nervous collapse if you go in there ranting and raving." Thranduil stopped dead, disbelief and horror mixing on his face. "Collapse...?" For a moment the King seemed younger, lost and afraid. Elrohir kindly patted a seat in front of Elrond's desk. "We had better talk."
Thranduil nodded dumbly and lowered himself into the chair. Across from him Elrond paused to massage his temples, pondering how and where to start his tale. "When Legolas came to live in Imladris, more than a hundred years ago, he came because he was in love with my former seneschal, Glorfindel. They lived together since that day until five days ago." Thranduil frowned; what had happened five days ago? "As I was saying, they were living together throughout that time, the time when I believe Legolas ceased all contact with Greenwood. It was also during that period that my sons and I noticed your son becoming increasingly quiet and subdued."
Elrond took a deep breath and chose the wording of his next sentence carefully. "Around three months ago now, my sons discovered something quite disturbing while training with Legolas. His back was severely bruised; so badly in fact, the injuries could certainly not have been caused accidentally. At the time they confronted him, but Legolas insisted all was fine. Although we could not do anything at the time, we resolved to watch him." He gave pause for breath. "After that, his shyness increased, until the incident I referred to in my letter occurred. I did not wish to alarm you at the time, and hoped that Legolas himself would fill in the details, so I gave only a brief mention of his being injured. In fact, I realise now that I should have told you the true extent of his wounds- he was hospitalised for six weeks following the occasion. It was while recuperating that my youngest, Elrohir, managed to coax Legolas into telling us what was happening- that Glorfindel was abusing him, and that the violence had been going secretly for some time."
Thranduil sat, stunned, trying to take in this new revelation. "Glorfindel was. beating my son?" Elrond nodded. "I'm afraid what has happened since has been partly my fault; I should have forcibly removed Legolas from Glorfindel's reach when I first discovered what has happening, but I failed to do so. His blood is partially on my hands." Elrond leaned forward. "Thranduil, what I am about to tell you will be deeply distressing, but it is something you need to know. Five days ago, on New Year's Eve, Legolas suffered another attack by Glorfindel, worse than before." Thranduil visibly paled. "No." "He was beaten and raped, gwador. Elrohir and I found him and brought him to my chambers, but we came too late to prevent his ordeal. The following day he suffered a nervous breakdown, and I have been treating him since. However he has mental scars that will never fully heal."
Numb with shock and dread, Thranduil tried to think straight. "I want to see him." "Of course, I will take you to him immediately." Elrond rose and walked round the desk to offer his hand to the King, who gratefully took it. Hauling himself out of the chair, Thranduil walked on unsteady feet to the door, Elrond leading him to his beloved son. With one last look back at his sons, Elrond nudged Thranduil out the door and into the corridor. "It is not far; I am treating him in my own chambers. It is quieter, and more comfortable for him." Thranduil nodded appreciatively. "Thank you." "Do not thank me meldir, I deserve it not."
The pair stopped before the final doorway in the hall, at the very end of the corridor. Elrond paused as he reached for the handle. "Have a care, friend, he is still very frail. Do not be offended if he doesn't acknowledge your presence, and do not do anything to alarm or frighten him." "I will be careful." With that Elrond opened the door and led him through an elegant drawing room, empty save for themselves. "He is through there." The half-elf gestured at a locked door at the other side of the room. Seeing Thranduil's questioning expression, he nodded encouragingly and stood back; the other elf needed to do this alone. Thranduil gathered up his courage as he turned the key in the lock, dreading what he might find behind, praying that the happy child he once knew was not completely lost.
Inside the room appeared to be empty. The curtains were drawn shut, and a rumpled bed lay unoccupied and quiltless against the far wall. Shutting the door behind him, Thranduil stepped cautiously into the room. Where was Legolas? He had expected to find him lying in bed, but the room seemed devoid of any life. He stood silent a moment- he could definitely hear breathing! Following the sound, he walked round the bed to the other side. Huddled in the corner, in the gap between the wall and bed, was his youngest son, wrapped tightly in the quilt. "Legolas..?" Wide, frightened eyes found his and softened, the sight enough to break Thranduil's heart. "Ada?" Legolas' lip began to tremble, precipitating the tears that welled up in his eyes. "ada." Thranduil swiftly settled beside his youngest and scooped the thin body into his arms, rubbing his back soothingly and smoothing the tangled blonde tresses of his son. The green elf rocked his son's frail form as Legolas sobbed loudly into his shoulder, outpouring the stress and pain of the last few days.
Thranduil lost track of time as he cradled his son, rocking him gently as he waited for the sobs to subside. Finally, Legolas wore himself out with crying and slumped silently against his father's chest. Thranduil planted a chaste kiss on the crown of his son's head and carefully stroked the matted hair as Legolas buried his face in his own, neater locks. "Sorry." Legolas' words were muffled, spoken into his father's neck, but Thranduil could still make them out. He frowned, concerned, and stilled his hands. "For what, tithen-emlin?" "For being so weak. For making you ashamed of me." Thranduil's heart twisted painfully. Was that what Legolas truly thought? "I could never be ashamed of you, nîn-ion. You are my son, and I will support you through this. None of this is your fault." Legolas said nothing, but buried his face deeper into his father's hair. Thranduil's hands tightened protectively. "Why did you never say anything, nîn-elen? If we had known, we could have helped you." Legolas shook his head weakly, his voice hardly above a whisper. "I was too ashamed. I'm sorry ada." "Hush, now, you have nothing to be sorry for." He planted another kiss on Legolas' hair as he softened his voice. "Do you still love him?" Legolas' reply was a hoarse whisper, so low Thranduil could scarcely make out the words. "I did. But now." He took a sharp intake of breath. "It hurts, ada." "Hush, it is alright, your family here now." Legolas nodded faintly into his father's neck and surrendered to his mental and physical exhaustion. Thranduil tenderly lifted him and laid his slim body on the bed, smoothing the quilt over him. Kneeling by the bed, Thranduil made a quiet vow to his son; "You will be avenged, thithen-cugu."
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Chapter 14
Elrond halted suddenly before the stone archway, glancing back at his companion. "Are you certain you wish to do this?" Thranduil's eyes took on a steely glint. "I need to see him." Elrond led on reluctantly; he had hoped to keep Thranduil from seeing his son's rapist until the sentencing, fearing the King might lose his composure and throttle the Elda there and then. Thranduil had been so insistent however, the half-elf had eventually had to acquiesce to his ever more determined demands. Which was why they were now entering the dark dungeons, built in the deep caves of Imladris and seldom used in times of peace. Torches held in high brackets lighted the dark passages and candles flickered in small alcoves in the wall. The front guard bowed respectfully as they passed, heavyhearted footsteps taking them further into the gloom.
The guards around his cell stood to attention as their Lord and the King stepped up to stand before the iron grill keeping the Elda incarcerated. As before, the blonde lord lay on the rudimentary bed, casually tossing some small trinket in the air, flashing brightly as it caught the light from the flaming torch. Glorfindel failed to acknowledge them, insolently avoiding looking towards them and continuing his game.
"Open the door." Elrond looked up alarmed at Thranduil's face twisted with fury. "Meldir, I-" "Open the door." He looked at Elrond imploringly. "I'm not going to kill him Elrond. He has something I want." Thranduil's words confused him, but Elrond nodded guardedly to the blonde's jailors. The iron grill swung open and Thranduil swept inside. With one swift motion he crossed to Glorfindel, who was still ignoring the pair, and lunged at the bauble the blonde had tossed, scooping it up in midair.
In an instant Glorfindel was on his feet. "That's mine." Thranduil's mouth contorted in disgust. "You have no right to touch his ring, just as you had no right to touch him." Amusement flashed in Glorfindel's eyes before he straightened his face. "But your Majesty, your whore of a son gave it to me, just as he gave me his body like a common little-" Glorfindel never finished his sentence, knocked sideways into the wall with all the brute force Thranduil could muster. Elrond and a guard moved in to restrain the greenelf as Glorfindel staggered to his feet, nursing a split lip and a red mark on his temple that would surely blossom into an impressive bruise. "Thranduil, control yourself!" the half-elf hissed as he dragged the King back outside and hurriedly motioned to the guards to lock the cell door. Shrugging the lore master off, Thranduil pressed his face as close to Glorfindel as he could through the iron bars. "You will pay for your betrayal. You will burn in hell for this!"
Elrond dragged a livid Thranduil away from the cell, back into the cool dark of the dungeon corridor. "Do not give him the satisfaction!" Elrond barked; he knew this had been a bad idea. "You promised me you would control your temper." Thranduil slumped, suddenly exhausted and aged. "Forgive me friend, when I saw him, I could not." Elrond sighed at the devastation in the other elf's voice and dropped his castigating tone. "I know, meldir, I know." Shepherding the now obedient King towards the light that marked the beginning of the outside world, Elrond squeezed the other elf's shoulder reassuringly. "We will not allow him to go unpunished, I promise you that."
* * * Elrohir tried hard to suppress the butterflies in his stomach as he hurried through his father's apartments. At long last, he was being permitted to visit Legolas! It was strictly on the conditions set down by his father- that speak quietly, was careful not to startle or overwhelm the blonde, and was heedful of Legolas' mental state, ensuring nothing he did made him feel uncomfortable. The fact that his father saw the need to lay down such commands explicitly rankled somewhat; after the way he had supported Legolas through the past weeks since the first time he had been hospitalised, he found it rather insulting that his father thought he would make the prince 'uncomfortable'. He would never do anything to hurt his beloved!
He knocked quietly and poked his head round the door. Scanning the room, he found Legolas lying glassy-eyed on the bed, tossing restlessly in the tangle of sheets. Shutting the door silently behind him, he stole across to the bed and knelt down beside it on the flagstones. Legolas whimpered pitifully in his sleep and curled up on his side. "No, please, no." Elrohir was torn, fearing to wake the prince but unable to bear Legolas' anguished pleading. Finally, when Legolas began thrashing violently on the bed, Elrohir could take it no longer. Climbing onto the bed he reached out to take the blondes face in his hands, calling him desperately. "Legolas, awake, please!"
Elrohir found himself looking into wide blue eyes filled with fear and confusion. "Elrohir?" Elrohir pulled back, heedful of his father's words- Legolas might still fear physical contact. To his surprise, the prince grasped the front of his tunic tightly and gazed up at him fearfully. "Please don't go, don't leave me!" Elrohir lowered himself to the mattress and stroked Legolas' face compassionately. "I am here, meldir, I will not leave you." Legolas nodded shakily, still clinging to Elrohir's robes like a lifeline. "Hold me."
Elrohir couldn't deny the softly spoken request and happily enfolded his beloved in his arms. Legolas leaned forward, tucking his head beneath the half-elf's chin and letting him hold him tightly. Elrohir felt the prince's breathing slow to a gentle rhythm, the panic fading. "I want to go home." Legolas spoke so quietly only an elf could make out the words. Elrohir chastely kissed the blonde hair before him. "Sorry meldir, we thought perhaps you wouldn't want to return to your quarters. We can move you back as soon as-" "No, I want to go home, not those rooms." Elrohir quickly moved to calm his love, perturbed by the despair in Legolas' plea. "Greenwood? You want to go back to your family?" Elrohir felt rather that saw Legolas nod against his chest, and placed another kiss on the crown of the blonde's head. "Then that is where we shall go, dear one." "Don't leave me." "I won't, I swear Legolas. I will stay with you wherever you go for as long as you need me, you have my word."
These words seemed to satisfy the Legolas, as he snuggled into Elrohir's neck and tightened his hold. Elrohir held the slim frame against him until they both fell into sleep, aware of the gravity of the vow he had taken. To fulfil it, he would have to leave behind family friends, and the land he loved and considered home, most likely for centuries to come. Somehow however, lying with his love pressed up against him, none of that seemed to matter.
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Chapter 15
The air was stiflingly hot; seemingly half of Imladris had attempted to cram into the main audience chamber to witness this grim event. Already several maidens and a young lad had had to be carried out after swooning from the suffocating heat, but more continued to pour in until even the standing room had been exhausted. Extra guards had been posted to prevent a crush and to hold back any overzealous members of the crowd, though Lord Elrond hoped they would not be necessary. The half-elf surveyed the crowd from his seat high on the dais that he commonly received petitions and audiences from, but that now held six great chairs instead of the usual one.
However, today was an unusual day; to his left sat Erestor and his eldest son, Elladan, and to his right were Thranduil and his two sons- all looking equally solemn, though in the eyes of Greenwood's royal family a glint of terrible anger could be discerned. Seeing the people still flocking in, Elrond was suddenly more grateful than ever that Legolas wouldn't be here to witness this; the prying stares of the public would break him. As the last elf squeezed into the room, Elrond stood, preparing to call the public sentence hearing to order. "Bring him in." A hush spread through the room as two of the guards pulled open the double doors at the side of the hall to reveal Glorfindel, wrists in heavy manacles and flanked by two armed guards. He was dressed simply in a plain prison smock and leggings, but still held his head high and gazed contemptuously up at the noble elves occupying the high dais. "Glorfindel of Gondolin, you have been found guilty of the heinous crimes of rape and physical abuse, and have been brought before the people today that all might hear your sentence. Have you anything to say for yourself?" The fallen lord twisted his lips disdainfully and spat at the floor beneath the party. Elrond heard Thranduil's sharp intake of breath and saw the whitening of his clenched knuckles, as the King struggled to control his emotions. "Very well; the committee hereby sentences you to thirty lashes and banishment, with forfeiture of all titles and lands. From henceforth you are no longer a lord, nor will you be welcomed in any settlement of elves. Yours will be a cursed life of wandering, unless you choose to sail West to face the judgement of the Valar." Elrond nodded to the guards that held the Elda. "Let it be done."
The soldiers pushed Glorfindel down to kneel, drawing his hair forward, off his shoulders, and holding his bound hands in front of him. Another stepped out from behind the dais carrying a leather whip, and came round to stand behind the kneeling Elda as another guard unbuttoned the back of the shirt. Elrond suppressed a shiver; such implements were abhorrent to the elves, not even to be used on horses or dogs. But Glorfindel had sentenced Legolas to a life of pain, if not death, and he knew that the party from Greenwood would settle for no less. He noted with some grim satisfaction that it was a guard from the prince's forest home who bore the whip; it seemed a sort of poetic justice that the violence Glorfindel had inflicted on Legolas should be reciprocated, and by one of the prince's countrymen.
The first crack of the whip echoed loudly around the room, the only sound breaking the silence. As the blows continued, the elves of Imladris watched silently, not a sympathetic face among the crowd. Such a comedown, Elrond reflected, for an elf who had been one of the most respected and well liked in all Middle-earth. News of Legolas' ordeal must have spread fast. At last, and much to Elrond's relief, the beating was complete, and Glorfindel was pulled roughly to his feet and his smock refastened. "Take him to the edge of the kingdom and run him from our lands. If he is ever sighted again within these borders from this day forward, he is to be shot on site. All lands and possessions are forfeited to the victim. This hearing is adjourned."
As Glorfindel was marched from the hall, the thunder of conversation erupted from the crowd, breaking the spell that seemed to have entrapped the six elves on the sentencing committee. Elladan seemed almost dazed, Erestor melancholy, Legolas' family grimly satisfied; but finally, for the first time since they entered the hall, the tension eased enough to allow them to talk. Elrond stood over Thranduil, who still sat slouched in his chair, currently looking every one of his several thousand years. He opened his mouth to utter some platitude, but was beaten to it as Thranduil himself at last spoke. "I'm glad he wasn't here to see that. It was better that he stay in your chambers with Elrohir"
Elrond exhaled deeply, releasing the tension from his body. "He would not have coped with seeing him again. I know you wanted him to witness his avenging, but it was for the best." Thranduil smiled sadly. "And you were right, meldir, as ever. Your Elrohir has looked after him well, I thank you for all you and your family's care." "I only wish I had acted sooner, he might have been spared. But Elrohir feels no burden in your son, he would gladly look after him all his life." Thranduil nodded thoughtfully. "He loves my Legolas, doesn't he?" Cornered, Elrond could not lie to the King. "Aye," he said softly, "he does. But he loves Legolas enough to know that he isn't ready for that yet." "I know. Legolas is in safe hands." Slowly, as if every bone in his body ached, Thranduil pushed himself out of his chair. "And I feel better knowing he will be coming to Greenwood with us. Legolas could use a friend right now." Elrond heartily concurred. "They will be good for each other, I feel." Thranduil looked at Elrond strangely. "And how do you feel about this, Elrond? Are you going to cope with the loss of a child?" Elrond sighed, torn. "I admit I never expected this, but he is old enough now to make his own decisions. I will simply have to learn to live with it; and certainly this will not be the last time we ever meet- I do expect to visit from time to time." "I will keep a fatherly eye on him, I promise you that." Elrond gave him a genuine smile. "I would expect no less of you meldir."
* * * Elrohir smiled from behind his book as he watched Legolas lie back in the sun, beatific smile on his face. The young peredhel was reading aloud to the prince, a task that had become significantly easier over the last few days, since Legolas had finally allowed them to open the curtains to allow light into the room. He read from 'The Lost Tales of Doriath', Legolas' childhood favourite and a book that never ceased to delight the young blonde. For the first time in two weeks, Legolas looked even vaguely happy, and Elrohir was thrilled. Legolas looked peaceful when he had appeared only tormented for days, giving the half-elf hope for the future. As Elrond had said, even allowing the sun to shine into his room was a step in the right direction.
Turning the last page of the book, Elrohir's thoughts sobered. Though in small ways Legolas might be improving, there was still a long way to go before the prince could even return to a state even approaching normal. Every night, nightmares still assailed him, causing him to wake up in a cold sweat, crying loud enough to wake the dead. He couldn't bear to go out in public, and flinched at sudden movements or loud noises. Glorfindel's ghost haunted him at every turn- even his ring that Thranduil had returned to him pained him too much to be worn. Banished or not, Glorfindel had certainly come out of this awful business better than the wounded, broken youth before him.
After the final page there came a companionable silence, Elrohir coming to sit by Legolas on the bed. Legolas laid his golden head in Elrohir's lap, seeking the comfort of a loving touch, and the feeling of safety born of a friend's closeness. Elrohir was happy to oblige, stroking his fingers through the pale strands, now falling just above the prince's shoulders. The blood in his hair had become so matted the only solution had been to cut it out entirely, bidding farewell to his familiar, mid-back length mane. The new cut suited him, Elrohir thought, although oddly the sight of his shorn locks had greatly distressed Legolas at the time. He supposed it was another confusing change in a time when Legolas had little to anchor him, and had endeavoured to compliment and touch the blonde's hair as often as he was able, hoping that his self-esteem might begin to recover from the hammering Glorfindel had submitted it to. Sitting there, with Legolas' head gently resting in his lap, sun shining in through the window, Elrohir wished that time and space could stand still, keeping his beloved with him in this perfect moment for eternity.
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!)
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Chapter 11
This was the final straw, Elrond decided grimly as he led four armed guards, including his youngest son, down the hallway leading to Legolas' and Glorfindel's quarters. He himself was armed with a long, slim knife, but he didn't truly expect to need it- it was his healer's kit that he felt would most likely be required. This time however, he was determined to put an end to Glorfindel's reign of terror whether he had Legolas' cooperation or not. It had been fortunate that Ithiliel had stayed at home to nurse her new babe instead of going with the other elves to the Revels, or there would have been no one present to report the disturbance in the prince's quarters- which, Elrond reflected, was likely to have been Glorfindel's plan. However, the blonde lord had not reckoned on Ithiliel, who had immediately come to Elrond in the Great Hall, reporting loud bangs and shouting from within the pair's quarters, as well as a scream loud enough to wake her baby.
Elrond had wasted no time in assembling a small escort to arrest the Elda, inviting his son Elrohir, who though not on duty, insisted on coming to the prince's aid. Elladan had gone to warn the healers of possible injuries, and the five armed elves had set off for the scene of the disturbance.
Elrond brought them to a halt in front of the prince's door and banged heavily on the wood. "Glorfindel? Open this door immediately!" When silence greeted Elrond's shout, he tried the handle- locked. The lore master nodded to the nearest guard and stood back as he moved in to force the door in. After a few tries the door banged open, allowing the group to step inside. The scene that greeted them made an ominous sickness grow inside the lord of Imladris.
On the floor by the wall was a pool of blood, with a spattering on the floor at the other side of the floor. A rope was tied to one of the torch brackets and now dangles above the blood pool, with fraying pieces lying on the surrounding floor, cut in haste. "Lord Elrond?" Elrond turned to see one of the guards kneeling a few feet away, a slim brown object in his hands; A belt, and on closer inspection, one stained with blood. Elrond's lips thinned. "Search these chambers for Glorfindel- I want him arrested and tied up on the spot. Elrohir- look to Legolas."
The guards, once confused as to their coming here, paled with a sudden understanding. Elrond looked up sharply. "None of you are to speak of what you see here today, unless it is before and inquiry. Now make haste." The group split up to search the suite for the Elda lord, save for Elrond and Elrohir, who together searched instead for the prince, fearing the worst. A shout from the bedroom brought the pair running, but instead of Legolas, they found two guards supporting an unconscious Glorfindel in a semi-upright position, while the third held aloft an empty wine bottle. "The room is full of these, but there is no since of Prince Legolas, my lord." Elrond nodded. "Take him to the cells. Treat him as highly dangerous when he wakes- a guard must be posted at all times." "Aye sir." The guards bowed their heads respectfully and left, dragging the seneschal behind them.
In the silence that followed, Elrond heard the faintest of whimpers, coming from behind the locked closet door. Elrohir's abruptly alert face told him that his son had heard it too and he made his way over to the door. He turned the key in the lock and stepped inside the long-empty, disused walk- in wardrobe, Elrohir close behind him. In the gloom, Elrond could just make out the prince, naked and curled on his side in the foetal position in the back corner of the room, gazing up in abject terror at the two silhouetted forms in the doorway. Elrond's heart stilled in his chest as he looked down at Legolas, who was covered in blood and trembling like a leaf. "Elrohir, a blanket." Elrohir left the closet and Elrond edged a little closer to the blonde elf on the floor, eventually coming to kneel by his side. He stretched out a hand and Legolas whimpered quietly and shrank back, afraid. "Peace, Legolas, It's alright, it's all over now. It's me, Elrond." Elrohir reappeared at his father's side with a blanket, and tucked it round Legolas' body, hoping it would at least make the prince feel less exposed.
"Legolas? It's Elrohir, everything is going to be fine." Elrond gently began to stroke the blonde's blood-caked hair, murmuring nonsensical words of comfort, knowing he had to calm the elf before he could carry him from the room to be treated. When the young elf's shivers had decreased a little, he wrapped the blanket more securely round the prince and slid his hands carefully beneath him. As gently as he could, the lore master lifted Legolas into his arms, wincing as his patient moaned in pain. Elrohir held open the door to let them pass, and together they started on their way to the Healing House. They were forced to re-evaluate their plans however, when they were greeted at the door by a gaggle of curious elves, having left the feast to see what all the commotion was about. Legolas tensed in Elrond's arms and the lord cursed under his breath, moving swiftly through the babbling elves and going in the opposite direction from the healers.
Round the first corner, Elrohir lifted a tapestry that concealed a secret door, and pushed it open. Elrond stepped into the hidden passage it revealed, his haste increasing now as he felt the prince's hot tears wetting the front of his robes. Imladris was full of secret passages like this one, leading for the most part to his own quarters. They had been designed to provide a means of escape for the valley's lord and his family in case of attack, but they would serve well now as a way to transport the prince to safety without exposing him to the stares of nosy townspeople. The quiet, passive behaviour of the elf in his arms made Elrond worry even further- what had Glorfindel done to reduce the prince to this state? The lore master had his suspicions, but until he could examine Legolas, he wouldn't know.
The three travelled in silence save for Legolas' ragged breathing, and Elrond was relieved when they finally reached the sanctuary of his own quarters. Legolas was clearly badly hurt, and Elrond wanted to examine him as soon as possible. Once again Elrohir rushed ahead to open the secret door that led directly to the half-elf's bedroom and Elrond quickened his pace, anxious to tend to his injured charge. As softly as possible he lowered Legolas onto the mattress and began peeling back the blanket he was wrapped in. The prince abruptly seized the end of the fabric away from the half-elf and wrapped it even tighter about himself, fear and anguish showing in every gesture. "No!" Legolas began to hyperventilate, seized with panic. He couldn't let Elrond examine him! Then he would know he had been raped, and he couldn't live with the shame. They already thought him weak for letting Glorfindel abuse him, they would be disgusted if they knew.
He curled up again, shrinking back from Elrond. The movement pulled at his wounds and he winced at the pain, something that was not lost on Elrond. The lore master had his suspicions about the nature of Legolas' hurts, and the prince's unwillingness to be examined only strengthened them. He appreciated Legolas' feelings, but he could not let the blonde go untreated; all he could do was make the experience as easy and painless as possible for the youth. "Elrohir, please leave us alone a while. Go tell the healers that I will treat Legolas here, and wait outside when you are finished."
Elrohir looked outraged and was about to protest, prompting Elrond to sharpen his tone. "Now please, Elrohir." With a last, concerned glance at the prone blonde, the younger twin obeyed, leaving Elrond and Legolas quite alone. Careful not to further spook his patient, Elrond knelt down by the bed, eye to eye with the prince, extending his hand to stroke Legolas' hair. "Legolas, I understand how difficult this is for you, but I must examine you. Left untreated your wounds could become infected and would be a thousand times worse. I'm afraid I can offer no anaesthetic to let you sleep- with a concussion it might well drag you under." He saw Legolas' eye widen and quickly added, " I promise I will not judge you."
Legolas' eyes met his cautiously and he nodded his permission, though Elrond still read hesitance and distrust in the blue depths. //Little wonder,// he thought to himself, //after what he's been through.// Doing his best to smile reassuringly, Elrond slowly pulled the blanket away from the blonde's body and attempted to lay him on his back. A pained little noise escaped the prince's lips and Elrond desisted, concerned. Leaning over he gasped as he saw what the darkness of the closet had masked. The skin of Legolas' back was torn and bloody, announcing clearly that he had been whipped, and dried blood and semen stained his inner thighs. Disgust for the Elda welled up inside him, but Elrond willed himself back to focusing on treating the prince. There was also bad bruising on Legolas' abdomen and face, a bad gash across his right nipple and chest, a nasty cut on his temple, and his wrists had been rubbed raw by the rope which bound him. The half-elf rose and crossed to the sideboard, rummaging for a moment, and returning to the bed with all the bandages, bottles and supplies that he would require.
As Legolas was on his side, Elrond started with the injuries on his face, wrists and abdomen, rubbing arnica tenderly into the bruises. Next he carefully cleaned the cuts on chest and forehead, before helping the prince to lie on his front. He fetched the basin, jug and sponge from the dresser and poured some clean water out, wetting the sponge and using it to clean the dried blood away from Legolas' back. The body beneath him shook a little, but the young archer remained silent. Working as quickly as he could, Elrond cleaned the deep welts and rubbed antiseptic into them, hearing Legolas' hiss at the sting. Nudging Legolas to lift himself from the mattress a little, the half-elf wrapped clean bandages around his back, pinning them and lowering the prince to the sheets again.
Finally, he turned his attention to the blonde's internal injury. Gingerly washing the blood and semen from Legolas' thighs, Elrond felt him stiffen with panic and began whispering in a low, soothing voice as he continued to bathe the wound. Once he had finished the external area, Elrond quietly asked for permission to continue. "Legolas, I will need to check inside of you, to make sure the wound is clean and decrease the chance of infection." Legolas simply nodded, avoiding the lord's eyes. His silence troubled Elrond, but he pressed on, eager to end the prince's ordeal as quickly as possible.
Wetting his fingers, he placed them at Legolas' opening, his other hand moving to hold Legolas'. Slowly he slid one wet digit into the ravaged channel, adding a little more water with the sponge. Elrond felt Legolas squeeze his hand and he squeezed back in sympathy. He withdrew his finger and washed away the blood, then covered his fingers liberally in a salve that would speed the healing process and help prevent infection. He slid two fingers inside scissored, coating the abused flesh again, before gently withdrawing and washing his hands.
Setting his healing kit aside on the dresser, Elrond returned to Legolas' side, sitting on the bed next to him. "Thank you for trusting me, pen-neth. Would you prefer to lie on your side?" Legolas nodded silently and let Elrond ease him onto his side. He didn't trust himself to speak, lest the sobs that threatened to erupt should further shame him. Elrond draped a light sheet over his body to preserve his modesty. "Try to get some rest. Would you like me to stay with you?" Legolas nodded gratefully, not ready to be left alone yet.
One by one, the torches and candles that lit the room were extinguished, until only one small candle on the dresser remained alight, Elrond rightly guessing Legolas' wouldn't feel comfortable in total darkness. Legolas tried to close his mind to the memories threatening to overpower him, eager for sleep and peace. Eventually, his physical exhaustion overcame his fraught mind and his eyes grew vacant in elven sleep.
Seeing at last that the prince slumbered in relative peace, Elrond leant over him, holding Vilya above the damaged body. Channelling his own strength into Legolas, the lord felt himself grow weak, the archer's punished body hungrily accepting any energy available. Breaking the connection. Elrond stood still a moment, catching his breath and clearing his head. The power of Vilya would help the prince to heal more quickly, but Legolas still had a long road ahead of him. Once the dizziness had passed, Elrond left silently, seeking his son.
It was no surprise to find Elrohir waiting restlessly in the next room, pacing in front of the empty fireplace. He snapped back to attention when he heard his father enter, bursting with questions about the blonde. "He is resting now. I'm sorry I had to send you away, but the examination was hard enough for him without the added humiliation of an audience." Elrohir's ire faded as he realised the logic and compassion of his father's actions, swiftly replaced by guilt at his selfishness. "What did that beast do to him, Ada?" Elrond's sadness showed in his mist-grey eyes. "He raped him, pen-neth. Legolas will probably never be the same again, you never truly recover from something like this."
Elrohir felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. So it was rape then; his darkest fears had come true. Seeing his son's lost expression, Elrond enfolded his youngest in his arms, his paternal instincts- already stimulated by the prince- getting the better of him. Elrohir welcomed the comforting touch, inking bonelessly against his father. "He will need your support more than ever, ion." Elrond pulled back, looking into Elrohir's face. "I think you should be there when he wakes." "I will watch over him through the night," he vowed. Feeling better now he had some purpose, Elrohir left his father's side to take his place at Legolas' bedside. He was about to open the door when Elrond stopped him. "Don't push him, Elrohir- he is fragile, mentally and physically." "I know. I'll take good care of him." With that he resumed his course to his love's side, determined to prove his words true.
Legolas was indeed sleeping as his father had said, lying on his side, blonde hair - matted and red-tinged with blood - fanned out on the pillow. It would be a while until Legolas' wounds would be healed sufficiently to allow him to take a bath, but perhaps in the meantime there might be something to remove the vivid reminder of his ordeal. Cautiously, Elrohir lay down a few inches from the prince, so that they were facing each other. Conscious of the blonde's nudity, he lay on top of the sheet that covered Legolas, knowing the prince would be feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment. The coming months, perhaps even years, would require much patience, but Elrohir silently promised himself and the sleeping prince that he would be there to support him every step of the way.
He lost track of the hours that passed, musing over his own thoughts and gazing into Legolas' vacant eyes. A movement from Legolas brought him out of his reverie however, forcing him to concentrate. Legolas' brow was knit, and he had started to twitch agitatedly. He murmured faintly and twisted in his sleep, clearly in the throes of nightmares.
Elrohir began to stroke his face tenderly, whispering sweet nothings, hoping his voice would reassure the blonde. Legolas quietened a little and stilled, but still whimpered almost inaudibly. Drawing nearer so that their noses were almost touching, Elrohir ran his fingers through blonde locks. "Shh, Legolas, you are safe. I'm going to look after you." The sound of his voice seemed to be effective, for Legolas stopped fidgeting and buried his face in Elrohir's hair, clutching at the front of his robe. Elrohir continued to caress his love's hair and scalp, keeping the nightmares at bay. He would be strong for Legolas.
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Chapter 12
The first thing Legolas became aware of as he struggled towards wakefulness was something soft tickling his nose. He tried to pull away but stopped dead and moaned in pain as sharp daggers of pain danced up his back at the movement. Forcing his eyes open and shaking the cobwebs from his brain, Legolas began to panic as he realised there was a hand resting heavily on his hip, and the tickling sensation came from a mass of dark hair. His chest began to tighten as memories were awoken.
Elrohir woke at the sound of Legolas' laboured breathing and cursed his own stupidity. Why had he thought Legolas would want anyone this close? Bringing his hand to rest on Legolas' head, Elrohir forced their eyes of meet- Legolas' wild-eyed, frightened stare with his own calm, steady gaze. "Legolas, peace, it is Elrohir." Fingers threaded into bloodstained strands. "Be still meldir, all is well."
Legolas' breathing remained ragged and heavy but he ceased his struggles and kept his eyes locked with Elrohir's. Now he realised who was holding him, his shock and terror began to fade; Elrohir would not hurt him, Elrohir had been kind to him. He hadn't scorned him, and he had come to rescue him last night, he remembered him bringing a blanket, a gesture Legolas had greatly appreciated. He shuddered as his thoughts returned to that night; awaking alone and aching in the darkness of the closet; Glorfindel beating him, whipping him, tearing him. The fiery pain centring on his most intimate place provided an inescapable reminder of what Glorfindel had done to him. Gods, he could even smell the Elda's sweat and the musky smell of sex still clinging to his body. He grew agitated again as the thought seemed to grow, becoming a monster in his mind, drowning him in the scent of Glorfindel, making his skin crawl as he felt phantom hands on him again. He wanted to scrape all trace of the blonde from his bruised skin. He had never felt so utterly soiled.
Elrohir noticed his increasing distress and began to speak softly, keeping their eyes locked, giving Legolas no choice but to focus on the present and not on his memories. "Father will come to see you again soon, do not fret, it cannot be long before you will be able to bathe again. And when you are better, we can visit Greenwood, you and I. Won't it be good to see your family again?" Legolas nodded timidly, spurring Elrohir on to continue, wracking brains for inane banter. He knew he was rambling, but the tactic seemed fairly effective- the blonde was not becoming restless and agitated, as he had done before, though he still wore a lost expression on his face. Feeling buoyed, Elrohir kept up the chatter about everything from the success of the New Year revel to Erestor's newest pet project, the construction of a new longer archery range, similar in design to those found in Lorien and the prince's native Greenwood. He was mortified then, when abruptly, while he was discussing Elladan's proposal for a combined hunting expedition in the autumn, Legolas burst into anguished, noisy tears, hot salty water pouring down his cheeks and lip trembling. Horrified, Elrohir stroked the side of Legolas' face, but swiftly desisted when Legolas flinched at the touch. Feeling helpless, all Elrohir could do was wait for the sobs to subside, sitting impotently by as Legolas curled up tighter beneath the sheet.
Legolas hissed as he curled himself up, but otherwise ignored the pain the motion caused. He knew he shouldn't be crying like this- Elrohir was no doubt shaking his head above him in disgust. Warriors weren't supposed to cry, it was unbecoming to be seen so unmanned. But something inside him had been broken, a dam had been burst, and he was helpless to hold back the flow. He wanted to explain, to tell Elrohir how dirty he felt; how he could feel Glorfindel's breath on his neck, his hands grasping his body; how something had been stolen from him and now he was lost.
But he remained silent; these weren't feelings he could into words. After a time, he slumped exhausted into the pillows, tears finally spent. Elrohir's heart wrenched- Legolas was shattered. Glorfindel was going to suffer for this, Elrohir would see to it personally. Seeing Legolas calming, all agitation leaving his fragile form, Elrohir made one final plea. "Don't let him get away with this. Will you speak out against him?"
Anger welled up in Legolas as his injuries burned in agony even at the faint pressure of the light sheet draped over him and he nodded. Where once the thought of Glorfindel had made his heart sing with love, there was now a deep pain and hatred growing inside. This time he had pushed too far- this time Glorfindel would pay for his betrayal.
* * * Elrond stood quietly before a single stone arch in the wall, leading into the lower reaches of Imladris. For such an unhappy morning, the air was warm and pleasant, the sun shone, and the birds sang indecorously in the trees. The peaceful scene was quite inconsonant with his grave purpose; surely nature should reflect something of the chaos and woe that had come to a head only the night before? But no, the day was beautiful despite the ugliness of spirit he was about to confront.
The archway led him further downwards, into the caves that had originally made the valley such an attractive location for the half-elf to build his sanctuary. It was a path he knew well; although now the dungeon was barely used, lying empty for two centuries, there had been darker days in Imladris' history, times of war and danger when the prison had served good purpose. Ironic, though, that the most dangerous of all these should come from within the valley sanctuary- for he who can present a false face of charm and honesty is often the most deadly, as he cannot easily be marked, the lore master reflected. 'Twas sad too, to see how a once great elf and treasured friend had fallen to such depravity.
The guards stood to attention as they saw Elrond enter. The most senior among them, a neri about half Elrond's age, stood forward to offer a bow and an update on their prisoner. "My lord, we have placed Lord Glorfindel under strict guard; four armed soldiers are present at the cell at all times." "Has he spoken?" "He has awoken but remains silent, Lord." Elrond nodded his thanks and swept past the commander in search of his fallen seneschal, deeper in the gloom of the cave.
It did not take very long. In front the first row of cells he approached, four well-built, vigilant guards stood watch, raising their weapons at his footsteps before lowering them upon further identification. Glorfindel lay on his back on a sparse wooden bed behind an iron grill, hands folded behind his head and staring into space. Blood still stained his fingernails and spattered his tunic, but he seemed unconcerned, not even turning to acknowledge his lord as Elrond stepped up to the grill, Guards moving aside respectfully.
"I have come to inform you that your sentence hearing will take place in two weeks time to the day, once a deputation from Greenwood has arrived and all charges have been decided on. I think we can forgo the usual complaint and presentation of evidence to the Lord of Imladris, as I have already seen with my own eyes all the evidence I need to lock you up for eternity." Glorfindel remained silent and still as a stone, looking up at the ceiling, casual and indifferent. Elrond's anger surged. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself? Don't you feel even a shred of remorse over what you did?"
Glorfindel at last deigned to cast a disinterested look in Elrond's direction. "What business is it of yours what I do with my own property?" Elrond's lips twisted in disgust. "You do not own Legolas, he stays with you of his own free will. He is not your slave!" Glorfindel smirked, the smug expression forcing Elrond to work extremely hard not to grab the nearest weapon and slit the Elda's throat. "I think you will find, my lord, that is exactly what he is. The slut had it coming to him; he deserved to be punished." "Nothing Legolas could do would ever justify your treatment of him. You betrayed and abused someone who loved you, and I vow to see you brought to justice."
Glorfindel returned to staring blankly at the ceiling, gloating smile still playing on his lips. "You will do nothing Elrond, because Legolas will not let you. I have him in the palm of my hand- he will never say anything that might incriminate me. Whether you want to or not, you cannot lift a finger against me unless he asks you to." He laughed, a bark sounding from his throat. "He will say nothing, and if you pursue the issue, I will raise such a fuss over your false prosecution and harassment that you will wish you had never met the little prince. You wouldn't want Celeborn to get wind of your attempts at miscarriage of justice." Elrond's lips thinned. "You are despicable." The only answer Glorfindel gave was to laugh, a cold, almost manic sound. The seneschal's laughter followed Elrond as he turned angrily on his heel and stalked out of the dungeon, the sound echoing in the high stone walls, amplifying the volume. Elrond bristled as it rang in his ears; Legolas would have to testify.
* * * Elrohir lovingly watched Legolas sleep, chest rising and falling gently with his breathing. Nightmares had tormented the prince for the last hour, but it seemed that he had now entered a deeper, dreamless period of sleep. Elrohir was relieved- he hated to watch his love in such clear distress, but feared that waking him might frighten the blonde even further.
The slight click of the door in the next room alerted the younger peredhel to his father's coming, and he waited patiently from his place on the bed. As he had predicted, a gentle knocking came, followed by his father's dark head appearing round the door. "Ada." Elrohir smiled, grateful for the comfort his father's ever-calm presence offered. Elrond placed a chaste kiss upon the crown of his youngest's head. "How has he slept?" "Not well, he's only begun to sleep peacefully- nightmares plague him." Elrond looked grave but not surprised. "It is as I thought it would be. What are his intentions towards Glorfindel now?" Elrohir met his father's eyes with some satisfaction. "He will speak against Glorfindel." Elrond nearly laughed with relief. "Then I will see to it that he is brought to justice, for Legolas' sake. Though, I fear it may well be me who will be protecting Glorfindel soon, when the Greenwood party are informed of the charges against him."
Elrohir looked at him suspiciously. "Greenwood? Thranduil is sending an envoy?" Elrond shook his head. "Nay, son; Thranduil is coming himself. I managed to catch the young Silinde last night for a few words, and he reluctantly revealed to me that King Thranduil and his escort set out for Imladris a fortnight ago- they will arrive within days." Elrohir's eyebrows rose. "Thranduil will be coming here?" Such important persons rarely left the security of their realms. "Aye; it seems he has been greatly concerned for Legolas for some time, but my letter regarding his injuries was the final straw. He has grown tired of his son's silence."
Elrohir sat pensively, considering the implications of this new revelation. He had known from Elladan's words that a Greenwood deputation would be coming to the valley- however he had not expected one quite so soon. Would Legolas be ready to face his family so soon after his ordeal? As if reading his mind, Elrond enmeshed his fingers with his son's and gave his palm a squeeze. "He will need his family to support him through this. Thranduil loves him, he will not turn him away." "You are right. It will be good for him to see his father again."
Elrond rose and stretched, thoroughly drained of energy, and offered his hand to the still-seated Elrohir. "Will you come to get some rest and nourishment?" Elrohir looked down at the sleeping blonde and shook his head gently. "No, I don't want him to be alone when he wakes." Elrond sighed- he had suspected Elrohir's reply to be something along those lines. "Very well, but I'm sending Elladan here with a tray, and I want you to eat well. If you can manage, try to encourage Legolas to drink plenty of fluids and try some food, I'll send up some broth for him." Elrohir smiled happily. "Thank you ada." * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 13
Elladan sat by the window, listening to the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the glass. He let his temple rest against the windowpane, distractedly drawing patters in the patch of steam created by his breath. His other hand stroked reassuringly through a mass of dark brown locks, identical to his own, as he cradled his younger brother to his body protectively. He let his sleeping twin cuddle close and pillow his head on his shoulder, the way they had done when they were children, more than a century ago.
The past few days had taken a heavy toll on Elrohir, and Elladan was determined to give him some respite from his woes, however brief. Four days since Glorfindel's arrest, matters were going from bad to worse. Though Legolas had begun to heal physically- though progress was frighteningly slow for an elf, the bleeding from his torn passage had ceased, and scabs were beginning to form over the welts on his back- however the emotional strain had simply overwhelmed the blonde: on the second day after the attack, Legolas suffered a nervous breakdown.
The entire time had passed in a blur for Elladan, it was really only now that he could begin to make sense of the last few days. Elrond had come in to check on Legolas that fateful morning, (after prying Elrohir away from Legolas' side the night before), to find his bed empty. After a desperate search- and the quick dispatch of a vassal to check that Glorfindel was still safely locked up in the cells- the prince was found cowering in a corner behind heavy velvet curtains, trembling badly and shrinking back from Elrond's touch.
Once Elrond had managed to get close enough to examine him, the lore master had diagnosed a mental breakdown and attempted to put the blonde back to bed. He had resisted strongly, so Elrond settled for wrapping a blanket around him and gently coaxing him into drinking a mild sedative. When Legolas was no longer so agitated, the half-elf had carried him to the bed, dressed him in a warm sleeping robe, and tucked him in.
Since then Legolas had been placed on a strict course of hypericum perforatum, but a marked change had come over the blonde since that day. He had spent the last three days huddled beneath a blanket, sitting alone in the dark, unresponsive and withdrawn. His haunted eyes showed that the prince was trapped in his own private nightmare, unreachable with kind words or gestures. Instead of shying away from touch, he seemed to be almost unaware of it, staring blankly into space. Legolas passively allowed Elrond's examinations and treatments but made no acknowledgement of the lore master, nor had he uttered a word in the three days.
Elrond had by now moved into an empty guest room, leaving his own chambers to his young patient. He feared further upheaval would only cause Legolas to withdraw further into his own world, and his quarters- in a secluded part of the house - offered more privacy for his recovery than the aseptic rooms in the Healing House. Inevitably, Elrohir had been worried sick about the object of his desire, but Elrond had refused any save himself access to the prince, insisting he needed peace and quiet to recover. The party from Greenwood were yet to arrive, much to the peredhil's chagrin. Elrohir had clung to the hope that his family's presence might be enough to rouse the prince from his deep depression, and their failure to appear thus far had begun to concern and frighten the younger twin.
As if he knew Elladan was thinking of him, Elrohir stirred within his brother's arms, nuzzling the elder twin's neck in his sleep. Elladan tightened his hold protectively, resting his chin on his younger brother's head, they way they had sat together when they were elflings frightened by a storm. The day seemed to crawl by, minutes stretching out into hours, until at last the golden afternoon grew ripe and heavy, Arien at her zenith. Elladan himself began to doze, lulled into a light slumber by the balmy air and the warm body snuggled against him. He sunk back in the window seat, leaning his weight on the window and wooden shutters, the tension that had built up from the trials of the last four days leaving his body as blissful sleep descended.
A faint neighing sounded from the distance, but in his torpor Elladan heard nothing. As his mind stood poised on the cusp of deep sleep, a clattering of hooves upon stone cobbles caused him to jerk awake, his brusque movement in turn waking Elrohir. Over his twin's disgruntled mumbling, Elladan could hear the sound of at least a dozen horses riding into the courtyard beneath them. The racket ceased as the riders came to a halt and a loud, commanding voice gave the order to dismount. Elladan's heart gave a leap. Could it be them? Using his sleeve to wipe the fog from the glass, Elladan peered down into the yard below. Assembled were fifteen elves and their mounts, all arrayed in the distinctive forest greens and browns of Greenwood. Standing at the head of the group, handing his steed to a waiting stable hand was Thranduil. Emanating majesty and authority even in his travel soiled leathers; Thranduil was unmistakable amongst the other elves. "Elrohir, they're here, look!"
Elrohir, who by now had managed to shake off a little of his lassitude, turned in his seat to press his nose up against the pane. The sight of the Greenwood party was enough to disperse the last lingering lethargy from his brain. "King Thranduil." In an instant, the younger twin was up and pulling Elladan to his feet. "Come on, let us greet them."
* * * Elrond stepped out from behind the stone archway, braving the rain as he approached King Thranduil and his retinue. "Mae govannen, Thranduil." The king clasped his shoulder in greeting. "Mae govannen, Elrond." "I only wish our long-overdue reunion was taking place under happier circumstances." Thranduil frowned, concern written in the lines of his face. "Where is he? What has happened to him? I want to see my son, Elrond." Elrond held up a pacifying hand. "And I will take you to him, meldir, however first we need to talk." He signalled to a manservant to take the king's baggage. "Perhaps you might wish to change out of your wet clothing too. Lindir, my seneschal, shall show your men to the quarters arranged for them, if you would please follow me." Thranduil stopped him. "One moment- I wish for my sons, Vanamar and Calenfen, to lodge close to me."
Elrond blinked in surprise as Thranduil gestured to two handsome youths, as blonde as their father but otherwise living pictures of their mother, who bowed respectfully as his eyes alighted on them. The lore master was ashamed to say he had not recognised them at first and taken them for soldiers- the last time he had seen them was at Legolas' naming ceremony, when they had been but children. Now he considered it however, there was a certain richness to the fabrics they wore that denoted them as elves of some wealth and import and distinguished them from the guards surrounding them. "Of course; if you would all like to follow me I will arrange appropriate lodgings for both your sons." The two youths spoke their thanks and followed as the half-elf led them down a stone passage deeper into the Last Homely House.
Elrond paused at the top of the stairs to ensure his guests did not get left behind- they were currently halfway up the stone steps, conversing in low voices. He was about to resume leading the three to the guestrooms, when a loud call halted him. "Ada!" Elladan called as Elrohir dragged him by the arm down the corridor, "ada they're here, the elves from Greenwood- oh." Elladan trailed off, as an amused Thranduil appeared behind his father's shoulder, followed by two elves that could only be older versions of Vanamar and Calenfen, the two brothers closest to Legolas in age.
Elrond raised an eyebrow at Elrohir's sleep-tousled hair and creased robes, but chose not to comment on the twins' less than regal appearance. "Your Majesty, my sons, Elladan and Elrohir, though I am certain you are already well acquainted." Both twins smiled and bowed their heads in greeting; they were certainly on familiar terms with the King and his family, having fostered for several years with the royal family in Greenwood. Though, it had been a century since they last met. Elrond gave them both a pointed look. .
"Wait in my study, I shall be through shortly." "Yes ada," they chorused, and with a hasty bow to the King, they disappeared in a crumpled mass of hair, fabric and limbs in the direction from whence they came. Elrond turned back to his waiting charges and bowed apologetically. "This way please."
The conversation between the three visiting elves had ceased, and the next part of their journey together began in uncomfortable silence. The half-elf willed Thranduil or his sons to come up with some conversation as their footsteps sounded unnaturally loud on the stone floors. At last Thranduil broke the silence. "You say Lindir is now your seneschal- what happened to Glorfindel?" This was not quite what Elrond had in mind when he had prayed for conversation, and his reply was guarded. "He is no longer serving me in that capacity. It is one of many things we need to discuss, in private."
The discomfort of the situation was rescued as they entered the guest corridor. Elrond gestured to the first large ebony door on the left. "Your highnesses, you will find a suite that I hope will meet your needs through here." Vanamar bowed in thanks. "We are grateful, my lord." The pair, followed by the vassal carrying their light luggage, disappeared into the room beyond, leaving Elrond and Thranduil alone save for a single vassal loaded with the King's luggage. They continued down the hall to Thranduil's rather grander room, one Elrond knew that the King had favoured in the past. "I admit I was surprised to here that you had left your kingdom." "I left my eldest, Firloss, in charge. He is old enough now, and it will do him good to learn before he takes the crown." Elrond nodded sympathetically; he had oft considered giving his own sons more responsibility in preparation for their eventual ascent to full lordship. "Here is your own chamber; shall I send a servant in half an hour to bring you to my study? I think we will be best to talk there." Thranduil shook his head. "I know the way. Until then." Elrond stood back and let Thranduil and the vassal enter the suite, the door clicking shut behind them. Though the King might be suspicious of him and his family, Elrond was heartily glad he was here.
* * * Thranduil stalked alone down the halls of Imladris, determined to reach the half-elf's study and force news of his son out of Elrond as soon as physically possible. It frustrated him that Elrond had refused to tell him outright what was going on, but another part of him quailed at the thought of what might have happened that could make the lord unwilling to impart the information. He was a fool, he decided; when Legolas stopped responding to his letters one hundred years ago he should have sent someone to investigate immediately, not let the situation escalate to this. What if Legolas had died? Was that the reason Elrond wouldn't let him see his son? But surely he would have felt it if Legolas had died, wouldn't he? Dread consumed him, morbidly considering the terrible possibilities. And how dare Elrond keep him hanging in this suspense? Anxiety fuelling his anger, Thranduil stormed through the corridors, not even pausing to knock as he flung wide the study door. "Where is he, Elrond? Tell me!"
Elrond and his sons looked up in alarm; a raging Thranduil was a dangerous thing to have around at the best of times, but with what they had to tell him. "Thranduil, please calm yourself, before you can see Legolas, we must explain some things." "Either you take me to him or I shall slay you where you stand!" Elrond sighed, worried at the king's volatile mood. "Please meldir, you cannot see him like this! He is so fragile already, you could well cause another nervous collapse if you go in there ranting and raving." Thranduil stopped dead, disbelief and horror mixing on his face. "Collapse...?" For a moment the King seemed younger, lost and afraid. Elrohir kindly patted a seat in front of Elrond's desk. "We had better talk."
Thranduil nodded dumbly and lowered himself into the chair. Across from him Elrond paused to massage his temples, pondering how and where to start his tale. "When Legolas came to live in Imladris, more than a hundred years ago, he came because he was in love with my former seneschal, Glorfindel. They lived together since that day until five days ago." Thranduil frowned; what had happened five days ago? "As I was saying, they were living together throughout that time, the time when I believe Legolas ceased all contact with Greenwood. It was also during that period that my sons and I noticed your son becoming increasingly quiet and subdued."
Elrond took a deep breath and chose the wording of his next sentence carefully. "Around three months ago now, my sons discovered something quite disturbing while training with Legolas. His back was severely bruised; so badly in fact, the injuries could certainly not have been caused accidentally. At the time they confronted him, but Legolas insisted all was fine. Although we could not do anything at the time, we resolved to watch him." He gave pause for breath. "After that, his shyness increased, until the incident I referred to in my letter occurred. I did not wish to alarm you at the time, and hoped that Legolas himself would fill in the details, so I gave only a brief mention of his being injured. In fact, I realise now that I should have told you the true extent of his wounds- he was hospitalised for six weeks following the occasion. It was while recuperating that my youngest, Elrohir, managed to coax Legolas into telling us what was happening- that Glorfindel was abusing him, and that the violence had been going secretly for some time."
Thranduil sat, stunned, trying to take in this new revelation. "Glorfindel was. beating my son?" Elrond nodded. "I'm afraid what has happened since has been partly my fault; I should have forcibly removed Legolas from Glorfindel's reach when I first discovered what has happening, but I failed to do so. His blood is partially on my hands." Elrond leaned forward. "Thranduil, what I am about to tell you will be deeply distressing, but it is something you need to know. Five days ago, on New Year's Eve, Legolas suffered another attack by Glorfindel, worse than before." Thranduil visibly paled. "No." "He was beaten and raped, gwador. Elrohir and I found him and brought him to my chambers, but we came too late to prevent his ordeal. The following day he suffered a nervous breakdown, and I have been treating him since. However he has mental scars that will never fully heal."
Numb with shock and dread, Thranduil tried to think straight. "I want to see him." "Of course, I will take you to him immediately." Elrond rose and walked round the desk to offer his hand to the King, who gratefully took it. Hauling himself out of the chair, Thranduil walked on unsteady feet to the door, Elrond leading him to his beloved son. With one last look back at his sons, Elrond nudged Thranduil out the door and into the corridor. "It is not far; I am treating him in my own chambers. It is quieter, and more comfortable for him." Thranduil nodded appreciatively. "Thank you." "Do not thank me meldir, I deserve it not."
The pair stopped before the final doorway in the hall, at the very end of the corridor. Elrond paused as he reached for the handle. "Have a care, friend, he is still very frail. Do not be offended if he doesn't acknowledge your presence, and do not do anything to alarm or frighten him." "I will be careful." With that Elrond opened the door and led him through an elegant drawing room, empty save for themselves. "He is through there." The half-elf gestured at a locked door at the other side of the room. Seeing Thranduil's questioning expression, he nodded encouragingly and stood back; the other elf needed to do this alone. Thranduil gathered up his courage as he turned the key in the lock, dreading what he might find behind, praying that the happy child he once knew was not completely lost.
Inside the room appeared to be empty. The curtains were drawn shut, and a rumpled bed lay unoccupied and quiltless against the far wall. Shutting the door behind him, Thranduil stepped cautiously into the room. Where was Legolas? He had expected to find him lying in bed, but the room seemed devoid of any life. He stood silent a moment- he could definitely hear breathing! Following the sound, he walked round the bed to the other side. Huddled in the corner, in the gap between the wall and bed, was his youngest son, wrapped tightly in the quilt. "Legolas..?" Wide, frightened eyes found his and softened, the sight enough to break Thranduil's heart. "Ada?" Legolas' lip began to tremble, precipitating the tears that welled up in his eyes. "ada." Thranduil swiftly settled beside his youngest and scooped the thin body into his arms, rubbing his back soothingly and smoothing the tangled blonde tresses of his son. The green elf rocked his son's frail form as Legolas sobbed loudly into his shoulder, outpouring the stress and pain of the last few days.
Thranduil lost track of time as he cradled his son, rocking him gently as he waited for the sobs to subside. Finally, Legolas wore himself out with crying and slumped silently against his father's chest. Thranduil planted a chaste kiss on the crown of his son's head and carefully stroked the matted hair as Legolas buried his face in his own, neater locks. "Sorry." Legolas' words were muffled, spoken into his father's neck, but Thranduil could still make them out. He frowned, concerned, and stilled his hands. "For what, tithen-emlin?" "For being so weak. For making you ashamed of me." Thranduil's heart twisted painfully. Was that what Legolas truly thought? "I could never be ashamed of you, nîn-ion. You are my son, and I will support you through this. None of this is your fault." Legolas said nothing, but buried his face deeper into his father's hair. Thranduil's hands tightened protectively. "Why did you never say anything, nîn-elen? If we had known, we could have helped you." Legolas shook his head weakly, his voice hardly above a whisper. "I was too ashamed. I'm sorry ada." "Hush, now, you have nothing to be sorry for." He planted another kiss on Legolas' hair as he softened his voice. "Do you still love him?" Legolas' reply was a hoarse whisper, so low Thranduil could scarcely make out the words. "I did. But now." He took a sharp intake of breath. "It hurts, ada." "Hush, it is alright, your family here now." Legolas nodded faintly into his father's neck and surrendered to his mental and physical exhaustion. Thranduil tenderly lifted him and laid his slim body on the bed, smoothing the quilt over him. Kneeling by the bed, Thranduil made a quiet vow to his son; "You will be avenged, thithen-cugu."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 14
Elrond halted suddenly before the stone archway, glancing back at his companion. "Are you certain you wish to do this?" Thranduil's eyes took on a steely glint. "I need to see him." Elrond led on reluctantly; he had hoped to keep Thranduil from seeing his son's rapist until the sentencing, fearing the King might lose his composure and throttle the Elda there and then. Thranduil had been so insistent however, the half-elf had eventually had to acquiesce to his ever more determined demands. Which was why they were now entering the dark dungeons, built in the deep caves of Imladris and seldom used in times of peace. Torches held in high brackets lighted the dark passages and candles flickered in small alcoves in the wall. The front guard bowed respectfully as they passed, heavyhearted footsteps taking them further into the gloom.
The guards around his cell stood to attention as their Lord and the King stepped up to stand before the iron grill keeping the Elda incarcerated. As before, the blonde lord lay on the rudimentary bed, casually tossing some small trinket in the air, flashing brightly as it caught the light from the flaming torch. Glorfindel failed to acknowledge them, insolently avoiding looking towards them and continuing his game.
"Open the door." Elrond looked up alarmed at Thranduil's face twisted with fury. "Meldir, I-" "Open the door." He looked at Elrond imploringly. "I'm not going to kill him Elrond. He has something I want." Thranduil's words confused him, but Elrond nodded guardedly to the blonde's jailors. The iron grill swung open and Thranduil swept inside. With one swift motion he crossed to Glorfindel, who was still ignoring the pair, and lunged at the bauble the blonde had tossed, scooping it up in midair.
In an instant Glorfindel was on his feet. "That's mine." Thranduil's mouth contorted in disgust. "You have no right to touch his ring, just as you had no right to touch him." Amusement flashed in Glorfindel's eyes before he straightened his face. "But your Majesty, your whore of a son gave it to me, just as he gave me his body like a common little-" Glorfindel never finished his sentence, knocked sideways into the wall with all the brute force Thranduil could muster. Elrond and a guard moved in to restrain the greenelf as Glorfindel staggered to his feet, nursing a split lip and a red mark on his temple that would surely blossom into an impressive bruise. "Thranduil, control yourself!" the half-elf hissed as he dragged the King back outside and hurriedly motioned to the guards to lock the cell door. Shrugging the lore master off, Thranduil pressed his face as close to Glorfindel as he could through the iron bars. "You will pay for your betrayal. You will burn in hell for this!"
Elrond dragged a livid Thranduil away from the cell, back into the cool dark of the dungeon corridor. "Do not give him the satisfaction!" Elrond barked; he knew this had been a bad idea. "You promised me you would control your temper." Thranduil slumped, suddenly exhausted and aged. "Forgive me friend, when I saw him, I could not." Elrond sighed at the devastation in the other elf's voice and dropped his castigating tone. "I know, meldir, I know." Shepherding the now obedient King towards the light that marked the beginning of the outside world, Elrond squeezed the other elf's shoulder reassuringly. "We will not allow him to go unpunished, I promise you that."
* * * Elrohir tried hard to suppress the butterflies in his stomach as he hurried through his father's apartments. At long last, he was being permitted to visit Legolas! It was strictly on the conditions set down by his father- that speak quietly, was careful not to startle or overwhelm the blonde, and was heedful of Legolas' mental state, ensuring nothing he did made him feel uncomfortable. The fact that his father saw the need to lay down such commands explicitly rankled somewhat; after the way he had supported Legolas through the past weeks since the first time he had been hospitalised, he found it rather insulting that his father thought he would make the prince 'uncomfortable'. He would never do anything to hurt his beloved!
He knocked quietly and poked his head round the door. Scanning the room, he found Legolas lying glassy-eyed on the bed, tossing restlessly in the tangle of sheets. Shutting the door silently behind him, he stole across to the bed and knelt down beside it on the flagstones. Legolas whimpered pitifully in his sleep and curled up on his side. "No, please, no." Elrohir was torn, fearing to wake the prince but unable to bear Legolas' anguished pleading. Finally, when Legolas began thrashing violently on the bed, Elrohir could take it no longer. Climbing onto the bed he reached out to take the blondes face in his hands, calling him desperately. "Legolas, awake, please!"
Elrohir found himself looking into wide blue eyes filled with fear and confusion. "Elrohir?" Elrohir pulled back, heedful of his father's words- Legolas might still fear physical contact. To his surprise, the prince grasped the front of his tunic tightly and gazed up at him fearfully. "Please don't go, don't leave me!" Elrohir lowered himself to the mattress and stroked Legolas' face compassionately. "I am here, meldir, I will not leave you." Legolas nodded shakily, still clinging to Elrohir's robes like a lifeline. "Hold me."
Elrohir couldn't deny the softly spoken request and happily enfolded his beloved in his arms. Legolas leaned forward, tucking his head beneath the half-elf's chin and letting him hold him tightly. Elrohir felt the prince's breathing slow to a gentle rhythm, the panic fading. "I want to go home." Legolas spoke so quietly only an elf could make out the words. Elrohir chastely kissed the blonde hair before him. "Sorry meldir, we thought perhaps you wouldn't want to return to your quarters. We can move you back as soon as-" "No, I want to go home, not those rooms." Elrohir quickly moved to calm his love, perturbed by the despair in Legolas' plea. "Greenwood? You want to go back to your family?" Elrohir felt rather that saw Legolas nod against his chest, and placed another kiss on the crown of the blonde's head. "Then that is where we shall go, dear one." "Don't leave me." "I won't, I swear Legolas. I will stay with you wherever you go for as long as you need me, you have my word."
These words seemed to satisfy the Legolas, as he snuggled into Elrohir's neck and tightened his hold. Elrohir held the slim frame against him until they both fell into sleep, aware of the gravity of the vow he had taken. To fulfil it, he would have to leave behind family friends, and the land he loved and considered home, most likely for centuries to come. Somehow however, lying with his love pressed up against him, none of that seemed to matter.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 15
The air was stiflingly hot; seemingly half of Imladris had attempted to cram into the main audience chamber to witness this grim event. Already several maidens and a young lad had had to be carried out after swooning from the suffocating heat, but more continued to pour in until even the standing room had been exhausted. Extra guards had been posted to prevent a crush and to hold back any overzealous members of the crowd, though Lord Elrond hoped they would not be necessary. The half-elf surveyed the crowd from his seat high on the dais that he commonly received petitions and audiences from, but that now held six great chairs instead of the usual one.
However, today was an unusual day; to his left sat Erestor and his eldest son, Elladan, and to his right were Thranduil and his two sons- all looking equally solemn, though in the eyes of Greenwood's royal family a glint of terrible anger could be discerned. Seeing the people still flocking in, Elrond was suddenly more grateful than ever that Legolas wouldn't be here to witness this; the prying stares of the public would break him. As the last elf squeezed into the room, Elrond stood, preparing to call the public sentence hearing to order. "Bring him in." A hush spread through the room as two of the guards pulled open the double doors at the side of the hall to reveal Glorfindel, wrists in heavy manacles and flanked by two armed guards. He was dressed simply in a plain prison smock and leggings, but still held his head high and gazed contemptuously up at the noble elves occupying the high dais. "Glorfindel of Gondolin, you have been found guilty of the heinous crimes of rape and physical abuse, and have been brought before the people today that all might hear your sentence. Have you anything to say for yourself?" The fallen lord twisted his lips disdainfully and spat at the floor beneath the party. Elrond heard Thranduil's sharp intake of breath and saw the whitening of his clenched knuckles, as the King struggled to control his emotions. "Very well; the committee hereby sentences you to thirty lashes and banishment, with forfeiture of all titles and lands. From henceforth you are no longer a lord, nor will you be welcomed in any settlement of elves. Yours will be a cursed life of wandering, unless you choose to sail West to face the judgement of the Valar." Elrond nodded to the guards that held the Elda. "Let it be done."
The soldiers pushed Glorfindel down to kneel, drawing his hair forward, off his shoulders, and holding his bound hands in front of him. Another stepped out from behind the dais carrying a leather whip, and came round to stand behind the kneeling Elda as another guard unbuttoned the back of the shirt. Elrond suppressed a shiver; such implements were abhorrent to the elves, not even to be used on horses or dogs. But Glorfindel had sentenced Legolas to a life of pain, if not death, and he knew that the party from Greenwood would settle for no less. He noted with some grim satisfaction that it was a guard from the prince's forest home who bore the whip; it seemed a sort of poetic justice that the violence Glorfindel had inflicted on Legolas should be reciprocated, and by one of the prince's countrymen.
The first crack of the whip echoed loudly around the room, the only sound breaking the silence. As the blows continued, the elves of Imladris watched silently, not a sympathetic face among the crowd. Such a comedown, Elrond reflected, for an elf who had been one of the most respected and well liked in all Middle-earth. News of Legolas' ordeal must have spread fast. At last, and much to Elrond's relief, the beating was complete, and Glorfindel was pulled roughly to his feet and his smock refastened. "Take him to the edge of the kingdom and run him from our lands. If he is ever sighted again within these borders from this day forward, he is to be shot on site. All lands and possessions are forfeited to the victim. This hearing is adjourned."
As Glorfindel was marched from the hall, the thunder of conversation erupted from the crowd, breaking the spell that seemed to have entrapped the six elves on the sentencing committee. Elladan seemed almost dazed, Erestor melancholy, Legolas' family grimly satisfied; but finally, for the first time since they entered the hall, the tension eased enough to allow them to talk. Elrond stood over Thranduil, who still sat slouched in his chair, currently looking every one of his several thousand years. He opened his mouth to utter some platitude, but was beaten to it as Thranduil himself at last spoke. "I'm glad he wasn't here to see that. It was better that he stay in your chambers with Elrohir"
Elrond exhaled deeply, releasing the tension from his body. "He would not have coped with seeing him again. I know you wanted him to witness his avenging, but it was for the best." Thranduil smiled sadly. "And you were right, meldir, as ever. Your Elrohir has looked after him well, I thank you for all you and your family's care." "I only wish I had acted sooner, he might have been spared. But Elrohir feels no burden in your son, he would gladly look after him all his life." Thranduil nodded thoughtfully. "He loves my Legolas, doesn't he?" Cornered, Elrond could not lie to the King. "Aye," he said softly, "he does. But he loves Legolas enough to know that he isn't ready for that yet." "I know. Legolas is in safe hands." Slowly, as if every bone in his body ached, Thranduil pushed himself out of his chair. "And I feel better knowing he will be coming to Greenwood with us. Legolas could use a friend right now." Elrond heartily concurred. "They will be good for each other, I feel." Thranduil looked at Elrond strangely. "And how do you feel about this, Elrond? Are you going to cope with the loss of a child?" Elrond sighed, torn. "I admit I never expected this, but he is old enough now to make his own decisions. I will simply have to learn to live with it; and certainly this will not be the last time we ever meet- I do expect to visit from time to time." "I will keep a fatherly eye on him, I promise you that." Elrond gave him a genuine smile. "I would expect no less of you meldir."
* * * Elrohir smiled from behind his book as he watched Legolas lie back in the sun, beatific smile on his face. The young peredhel was reading aloud to the prince, a task that had become significantly easier over the last few days, since Legolas had finally allowed them to open the curtains to allow light into the room. He read from 'The Lost Tales of Doriath', Legolas' childhood favourite and a book that never ceased to delight the young blonde. For the first time in two weeks, Legolas looked even vaguely happy, and Elrohir was thrilled. Legolas looked peaceful when he had appeared only tormented for days, giving the half-elf hope for the future. As Elrond had said, even allowing the sun to shine into his room was a step in the right direction.
Turning the last page of the book, Elrohir's thoughts sobered. Though in small ways Legolas might be improving, there was still a long way to go before the prince could even return to a state even approaching normal. Every night, nightmares still assailed him, causing him to wake up in a cold sweat, crying loud enough to wake the dead. He couldn't bear to go out in public, and flinched at sudden movements or loud noises. Glorfindel's ghost haunted him at every turn- even his ring that Thranduil had returned to him pained him too much to be worn. Banished or not, Glorfindel had certainly come out of this awful business better than the wounded, broken youth before him.
After the final page there came a companionable silence, Elrohir coming to sit by Legolas on the bed. Legolas laid his golden head in Elrohir's lap, seeking the comfort of a loving touch, and the feeling of safety born of a friend's closeness. Elrohir was happy to oblige, stroking his fingers through the pale strands, now falling just above the prince's shoulders. The blood in his hair had become so matted the only solution had been to cut it out entirely, bidding farewell to his familiar, mid-back length mane. The new cut suited him, Elrohir thought, although oddly the sight of his shorn locks had greatly distressed Legolas at the time. He supposed it was another confusing change in a time when Legolas had little to anchor him, and had endeavoured to compliment and touch the blonde's hair as often as he was able, hoping that his self-esteem might begin to recover from the hammering Glorfindel had submitted it to. Sitting there, with Legolas' head gently resting in his lap, sun shining in through the window, Elrohir wished that time and space could stand still, keeping his beloved with him in this perfect moment for eternity.