~ To start anew ~
by Ola
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A/N~ As promised, a longer chapter. I hope you like it (I'm taking a self imposed break form studying to post it. Hey, I don't like studying when it rains, so I'm giving myself an excuse not to! =)
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Part 6~ Visitors and….visitors
Despite the King's assurance that no visitors would be allowed into the young elf's room without his consent during his infirmity, quite a few managed to worm their way through the orders and avoid Healer Vanyar, Lord Elrond, and King Thranduil himself. They meant to do well, wishing to raise the prince's spirits, and see for themselves what was happening, for few words leaked outside of Legolas's room as to the state of his health. Rumors circulated around, all of them wide off the mark, but all of them taken into account by the young elf's close friends.
Silviana and Talenor were the first two to try their luck at evading the palace guards, servants and occasional elf lord or lady residing in the palace. Waiting in a contiguous corridor for the occupants of their friend's room to vacate the premises, their minds were filled with gossips and amusing tales with which to greet Legolas. They were not ready for what they saw as they finally sneaked into the bedroom. They stood still for a moment, their eyes rooted on the pale face lying on the bed and peaking from under a light green blanket. Pale was not exactly the word. Washed out or palid would have been much more appropriate, for Legolas look…sick. Very sick. And that was not a normal state for an elf to be in two weeks after his injury. The two elves glanced at each other, clearly reading the worry and shock in each other's eyes.
"Legolas?" Silviana called gently. When no answer was forthcoming, she sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake her friend, while Talenor took a nearby chair. They waited patiently for any sign of change. Anything would have been better than this silence. And they could not simply go ask Lord Elrond what the matter was, for they were not supposed to be here, let alone know that Legolas was gravely ill. For they suspected that that was the reason they had been denied this visit. At whose discretion? Legolas's or his father's? Perhaps both? But Legolas would have had to be awake and aware to give any kind of order, thus the situation may not be as dire as we think… but another long look at the pain creased brow of her friend told Silviana that she was groping for a vain hope.
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As the door finally closed on his friends, Legolas clenched his jaw and tightly closed his eyes against the incoming tears. Do they not understand?! Do they not understand I wish to be left alone? Must they keep coming and distressing me so! He would have liked to do much more than cry. Ram my head against a wall, punch the door, fire a volley of arrows into the sky …or just scream… His whole body trembled with the tension of keeping the tears in, but the reign he had on his emotions was as weak as every other part of his body, and a sob escaped him. It quickly turned into a soft cry, muffled by the pillow as he turned his head away from the door. There was no point in bringing the healers swarming on him simply because he was crying, while they wondered what was hurting him. Because everything is, and nothing is. Everything will, and nothing ever will again.
Do they expect me to lie in my bed and dream of butterflies? I will never walk again. I will never punch the door. And I will never fire an arrow! I can scream all I want, and it will never bring any of that back!!
A louder moan escaped him, but he stopped caring whether he was heard. It's not as if I have any dignity left! I have to be washed! I have to be fed! I have to be taken to the privy! I do not wish anyone to ever tell me to be happy!! The thoughts became angry screams that filled his mind, driving everything else out until –much too shortly- he ran out of strength and lay still, panting for breath. And what else can I do but lay still? He asked himself in a whisper. No one bothered to answer, and Legolas was left feeling utterly lost.
I will never be part of this world again. I wish to forget about everything…and friends who stage impromptu visits do not help, although they think they do.
Earlier that day, Legolas had barely had time to turn his head slightly away from the door and unfocuse his eyes to fain sleep as he realized that the visitors were neither Vanyar, Lord Elrond, or his father. He also almost gave himself away when he realized who was standing by his bedside. Memories of Lenatril's and Berlinor's death flashed through his mind, and all he could do was cringe away while they ran on and on, like mice trapped in a barrel. The sound of someone speaking his name brought him out of that raw horror, although it did not erase the pain. It was all he could do to keep an appearance of outward calm while his insides roiled in turmoil and despair. Perhaps his hurt managed to slip by the careful mask on his face, for the friends did not stay long before they left him to his "healing rest."
Unfortunately, Silviana and Talenor were not the only two who wished to bid Legolas swift healing. In the course of the next few days, three more of his fellow messengers came in, alone, navigating between Healer Vanyar's sessions of massage therapy, and King Thranduil's talks. They were never enjoyed, although a small part of Legolas cringed at the thought of misleading his friends so. After all, they dared Vanyar's wrath –neither small nor short by any means- to see him, and all he did in return was evade them.
He had even taken to unfocusing his eyes and faining sleep at the least noise outside his door. Vanyar wondered at this increased sleepiness, but did not comment on it except that it would build his strength quicker if he rested. But how he was wrong! For instead of providing a quiet solace, those "sleeping bouts" took more out of the young prince than he cared to admit. He was always left strained, and at the end of his resources after each one, and yet, he never told Vanyar about them. How could he, when he hated himself so for lying to his friends? And yet, he could do nothing else, and still cling to the fraying end of the rope that was his sanity and life.
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A little head full of black locks peaked out from behind the corner of a hallway. It stood but a little over three feet from the floor, and swiveled left and right, and left again. The rest of the body then padded into the empty hallway, revealing narrow shoulders covered by a dark green jacket, and two short legs which ended with soft-soled booted feet. Hugging the wall, the child hurried with surprising silence to a door at the other end of the corridor. There he stopped, and glanced again to each side to assure himself he was still alone, before he rested his ear against a wooden door. What he heard on the other side must have given him courage, for with one backward glance, he rose on his toes, and turned the handle, barely reaching high enough to grasp it with his short fingers. He slipped inside, closed the heavy door with a soft click, and only then turned to face the room he had entered.
It was a room like any other. A large door opened onto a balcony, letting in a slight breeze that ruffled the gauzy material of the curtains. A bed stood with its headboard against the wall, a desk was pushed against the opposite wall. A chair of a similar design stood next to the bed, obviously used quite often by visitors. A little bed table was exactly were it should be: at the reach of a hand, right next to the bed. Three more large door-windows in the third wall let in quite an amount of light and air. Yes, this was quite a normal room…except for the elf lying on the bed…or rather in it, for the bed seemed to have swallowed him.
The child took all of this in at a glance, his eyes finding the sleeping elf and staying there for quite a while. The light blanket covering the elf rose slowly up and down with each breath, and the child unconsciously synchronized his own breathing to the same rhythm. An inner thought seemed to push him forward. He came right up to the bed and put his little hands on the edge of the soft mattress; a small frown creased his brow, as much because he could not see much from this position as because what he did see from up close was a little unsettling. Spying the chair, he trotted to it on the other side of the bed, climbed on it somewhat clumsily, making relatively little sound, then again peered at the young elf on the bed, his head slightly bending to a side. Obviously, this was not a satisfactory vantage point either, for the child scrambled off to the floor, pushed the chair right up to the edge of the bed –wincing and shrinking back on himself as it rapped rather loudly on the wooden floor- before once again taking a sit.
"Le-go-las?" his little hand extended toward the young elf and gently tapped his shoulder while he whispered the name with great care. The lack of answer was not a deterrent.
"I brought you a cookie…it's honey and nuts." The child spoke with a slight lisp, the origin of which became quite clear as soon as he opened his mouth, for he lacked his two front teeth. "When I'm sad, my ada brings me cookies. I like cookies, they make me happy…my ada said you were sad so I thought you would like one too. … …I couldn't bring you milk because ada made me drink all of mine and …and I don't know where the kitchen is."
There was the sound of a paper napkin creasing as the child produced a little package from somewhere behind him, and held it to the elf. His face fell a little when his gift was not accepted. He bravely got down to the floor, padded to the other side of the bed, and placed the cookie on the bedside table, patting it fondly and pushing away a few bottles to make place for the offering, then made his way back to his seat.
A door opened and closed somewhere nearby, making the child jump in fright. He held tightly to the edges of the chair as he listened to the muffled voices receding into the distance. An audible sigh accompanied the silence. And then a badly suppressed squeal of surprise as he found himself the object of attention of two large blue eyes.
"H…hello" a tremulous smile appeared on his childishly round face. Those blue eyes kept looking at him for what seemed like an awfully long time to the young child, before the elf replied "hello." Well, that is what the child thought the elf said, for it was spoken so softly he barely heard it.
"I brought you a cookie." The child repeated himself, and went on to once again explain why. A little smile appeared on the elf's pale face, and the child beamed with unconcealed joy.
Like all little children, he spoke without restraint; everything on his mind was worth saying or asking. "Why are you sad?" Legolas kept his silence for such a long moment that the child thought about repeating his question. But what to answer to the youngling? He would not understand. And even if he would, Legolas did not wish to talk to him about such unhappy events. Yes, he would learn about them in the future, but this was not the time.
"I am ill, little one, and sad to be unable to walk under the trees." There, that was vague enough without being a lie.
"Oh…" the child swung his short legs above the floor. "Why are you sick?"
A strange expression crossed the elf's face, and a very soft something resembling a tear chocked chuckle escaped him. "I do not know."
"Oh." Another moment of silence descended on the room, punctuated by the chirrup of a bird. Legolas stared at the ceiling and the child looked at the floor. His shoulder length hair swang into his eyes, and he swept them away with an annoyed look that spoke volumes about his thoughts on long hair. He again found himself under the scrutiny of those lambent blue eyes, and wondered, as only a mischievous four year old used to being reprimanded for his "tricks" could, what he had done wrong this time. For what the elf had perceived under that mass of dark hair was the tip of an ear… as round as an egg.
"What is your name youngling? Or would you like me to call you 'little one'?" as he had surmised, the boy sat straight up in his chair, full of as much pride as his little body could hold.
"Ada calls me Estel." Well, that was not much information. Legolas did not know anyone who had a child by that name. But what would a human child be doing in the palace? Of course, men from Elsgaroth often came to talk to his father in matter of trade, and some brought their children with them, both to accustom the younglings to their allies, and to teach them the craft of their fathers. But none were now in Mirkwood that he knew of, and none lived in the woods permanently. An elf's visitor then?
"But my brothers call me tithenpen*" he wrinkled his nose, clearly showing what he thought about that type of affection. An elven name and an elven nickname bestowed upon him by his brothers! This little boy is quite a mystery, and only one simple manner exists to unravel this ball of yarn.
"Who is your ada Estel?"
The child looked at him quizzically. "Ada is ada… but people call him El-rond." Again that careful pronunciation, but this time unnoticed by the elven prince, whose whole attention was riveted on that last name.
Well, that explains it…somewhat… but not really… no, no at all…
That was a large mouthful to swallow. A little too large, and thus Legolas laid it aside for the moment, deciding to ruminate on it at his leisure at a later occasion. Time was one thing he had in abundance now. In the meantime, a sparkle lit his eyes as a shrewd idea formed in his mind.
"Your ada is not aware of your presence here." The words were not expressly spoken as a question, and the boy remained silent, but his face once again gave his feelings away. His eyes grew round and darted fearfully to the door, while his little mouth tightened in stubbornness. Legolas could not stop himself from laughing, imagining quite well what kind of spirited child young Estel was. The holly terror of the servants. The bane of the dignified lords and ladies. All in all quite similar to a certain elven prince. His smile became a little strained before it slipped away entirely. It is the past. No good will come of living entrapped in the times of yore. As wise as those thoughts were, they brought renewed pain, a pain that was difficult to hide, even to a young human child.
"Am I dis-trubing…dis-tubring…you? Ada said not to." Estel looked at the elf, his gray eyes holding concern, waiting for the answer as if it was of utmost importance, and it most probably was for him.
"No Estel, you are not disturbing me," Legolas said, another smile playing on his lips, realizing that it was quite true. The little boy had won his heart. I have not smiled so and felt so…alive…since…since that day. He sighed softly, beginning to feel to weight of the hours upon his weary body. Perhaps the emotional pain added to that smothering weight as well. Whatever the cause, Legolas felt the world slipping away from his feeble grasp. One last thought squeezed itself into his mind before he fell into a deep sleep once again, a sleep from which even Estel's insistent prodding and soft callings could not draw him out into the light: Oh Eru, why is it so hard to bear? Why?
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* tithenpen= tithen (little) pen (one) from Sindairn dictionary (or perhaps it should be pentithen? =) mmm, I am definitely not an authority on this subject. If you think it's wrong, please tell me!! =)
A/N~ hee hee, so? How do you like Estel? =)
-cheysuli- !!!!! ahhh!!!! Can I borrow that idea? Please please, say yes!? And I'll ask Legolas to give you a hug! Eh? =)
-crazygirly- thanks so much! =) so, how did you like Aragorn? *grins* maybe not quite what you were expecting… *grins even more*…and no thranduil this time, but he's hanging around…will probably be back next chapter =)
-ophelia- well, you got more elves, but no real interaction though…=) mmmm, you got me thinking….make Legolas better, or leave him like that?...i had an idea, but now I'm not so sure anymore….will have to write lots of angst in the meantime before I find an ending then! =)
-vuaryn- welcome! Hope you're still hanging on =)
-lady of dreams- lol. *looks at the rivendell twins and can't stop from giggling*
