OMG, I actually kept my promise, I'm so proud! Woo! Anyway, it's Christmas eve and I have no time for a sarcastic remark or ranting or bad jokes (okay, just one: What goes 'OOOOOUUUUU'? A cow with no lips! Too funny!) Anyway, have a good Christmas everyone, I'll hopefully post again before the new year.

Chapter Eighteen: Painful Admissions    

It had been a long night.

The early minutes of dawn crept over the land silently, the welcoming golden glow driving away the lonely shadows of the night. The camp was quiet, many of the elves that had arrived with Elrond had already left to take Raenir back to Rivendell, and only half a dozen remained with the family. Gandalf had strayed a little way from the camp, watching the sunrise over the hills as smoke drifted lazily from his pipe. Occasionally he would glance down at the dozing elves, or spot movements in the tent, but he remained where he was. Little else stirred, bar the lone blonde elf who had propped himself against the tree, wrapped in Elrohir's cloak, eyes slowly taking in the new day. The twins lay beside him, Elladan's head resting against his brother's shoulder as they rested peacefully. They looked absolutely exhausted, Legolas noted, as if they had not slept since that fateful afternoon in August. He cringed at the crude spattering of Estel's blood on their clothes and his gaze shifted anxiously toward the nearby tent that accommodated the young human and Lord Elrond. 

The low fire crackled hazily, the soothing heat wafting into the makeshift tent. Elrond stared at him quietly, watching his chest rise and fall gently in his slumber. He had forgotten how tall Estel was becoming, how quickly he was growing up. Everything happened too swiftly with humans. But no matter how much he had grown, or how strong he had become, he was still a child. He was still his son. The elf sighed. He had come too close to losing him again. He was afraid he'd lost Estel in many aspects already. Elrond had barely recognised his son last night, after a fortnight of telling his other children and himself that they would find Estel alive, they had. But there was something wrong, he was not the same boy who had been taken from them.

Those big grey eyes were empty. Estel couldn't bear to be touched. It had scared the elf. He'd run from his own family. It had hurt; he couldn't deny that. Finding him in that field, clutching his arm as it bled mercilessly… The elf felt his eyes well up once more. He had told everyone it was an accident. It might have been, but the look on Legolas' face had spoken volumes. It wasn't. His child, his eleven year-old child had tried to kill himself. Rubbing his temple uncomfortably, Elrond grimaced. He didn't understand. The elf trailed his fingers lightly over the heavily bandaged wrist and his gaze fell upon the bloodstained garments Estel wore; they reeked of death and pain and clung to his body like a dark shadow.

He pulled a spare tunic from his pack and leant over him, pulling away the blanket and delicately unbuttoned Estel's trousers, sliding them down gently.

Elrond froze.

His eyes locked on the savage bruising high on the human's thighs, nasty fingernail scratches that made his heart thud in his chest so hard it shook his body. Recoiling his hands nervously, he edged away slightly, unable to take his eyes off the vicious wounds. Dread hung heavily in him and a heartbreaking realisation sunk in. Anger boiled in his veins and he was grateful Raenir was gone, unsure that he could restrain himself if the prisoner had remained. A tear trickled down his cheek; tears of sadness, fury and pity, his heart broke for his youngest son. He could only guess how afraid he was. He didn't need to guess. Last night had shown his state of mind. Delicately removing Estel's stained shirt, he grimaced at the lashes Legolas had informed him of already. Why didn't Legolas tell him? Did he even know? The elf's head span has he replaced his dirty clothes with a soft elven tunic and pulled the blanket over him again softly, placing a tender kiss on the boy's clammy forehead.

A shadow lingered over him, and he turned to see Legolas standing in the entrance, one hand holding onto his broken ribs tenderly. His face was grim, laced with an unnerving sadness, his eyes dark and apologetic. They remained silent for a few moments, it was an uncomfortable hush but a necessary one and eventually the younger elf took a few tentative steps inside.

"I never wanted to love him," Elrond began quietly, not taking his eyes off the sleeping human. "I still don't want to. But through my reluctance, his spirit wore me down. He is my son whether he is my own blood or not."

He fell silent once more as if trying to find the right words to continue. The blonde being watched him, unsure if he'd seen such anguish in Lord Elrond's eyes since the years following Celebrian's attack and subsequent passing over the sea.

"He has so much ahead of him; dark toils and immense tests that he may overcome or fail, but at this moment I have little care for his heritage, I just want him to be safe and happy. Yet here I am, looking over this helpless little creature, terrified that he has been harmed in such away." He murmured. "Tell me all that transpired in the fateful past weeks."

Legolas' gaze fell upon his sleeping friend for a minute or so before finally meeting Elrond's inquiring stare. He didn't know where to start or how to say what he needed to. Taking a deep breath and with a faint nod, he began.

"There were four. Raenir, you have met and whom I initially thought to be the leader, but later I found that assumption to be wrong when I discovered the identity of the quietest of the company." He paused uncomfortably; it was a tale he did not want to relive, but he knew Elrond had to know. "An assassin whose legend precedes him; Donvan. This was planned; a man of his reputation is not hired on a whim. The third, Grudoc, was the brawn of the group, but I think he was just a common thug out of his depth, and the last was Carinyc, friendliest with Raenir, possessing the same vicious streak. I was unconscious for the first three days, and their wrath was concentrated on me but on the fifth day, they turned on Estel. I watched helplessly as they tortured him for two nights in a row, Carinyc's knife inflicting grievous wounds that almost cost him his life."

He looked down at the still form of Estel, his face was a mess; the cut on his face had barely healed and was teamed with a countless number of small but painful looking scratches that were in turn, framed with slowly fading bruises. His jaw was still a little swollen from yesterday and a sickly sweat had formed on his brow. It was the first time he'd really looked at the young human since they'd been taken; whether the wounds that scarred his features clouded his view, Estel seemed older than his eleven years. He continued the tale, and described their escape, separation and reunion, and of Roiderick and Shana's aid.

"We were betrayed by their son, a stupid, insolent thing he was. Again we were split, Estel was pierced by Donvan's arrow and took cover. I left him in an attempt to lure them away but only two followed. For what reason he left his hiding place, he did not say, but he did and Carinyc pursued him… I heard his screams." He murmured, closing his eyes and rubbing them bleakly. "I raced through the forest, trying to find him, the odd cry finally leading me into his path. And there he was, standing in front of me, his shirt lying at the bottom of a ditch and his trousers unbuttoned. He was shaking like a leaf, unable to look at me. Estel wouldn't speak of it but I knew that filth had attacked him; it was plain to see. He killed Carinyc out of self-defence. If he hadn't, then I would have cut his throat without hesitation."

His account became somewhat patchy after that and could only go on Estel's word that Donvan had fallen, and Raenir's poisonous threats. Legolas finished and the uneasy mute fell between them once more, the raven-haired elf remained still, staring vacantly at his hands that were now clenched into tight fists, leaving his knuckles white. He closed his eyes in a slow disbelieving blink, trying to take it all in. The fair figure knelt beside him awkwardly, not knowing what else he could say, nor could he find any words of comfort and instead found himself folding up Estel's bloody clothes. A crumpled piece of paper, stained in one corner with blood, fluttered to the ground and on it was simply scrawled: 'Ada' They both stared at it, unmoving, their hearts skipping a beat nervously.

"Read it." Elrond said softly.

"It is not addressed to me."

Elrond looked up at him. "I know, but I dare not."

Legolas held his gaze and reluctantly nodded. It rustled a little in his grip and he unfolded it apprehensively. His eyes trailed anxiously down the page, it was shakily scribbled in Elvish and spattered with tears that smudged the words.

"I cannot bear to look at myself." He began quietly, feeling the knot in his stomach tightening. "My skin crawls with every touch, he haunts my steps and reels through my memory." Legolas stopped, his lip trembling. "I cannot bear being this person anymore, the humiliation is eating at me and I cannot breathe. I am so ashamed. This is the only way. Forgive me." He wiped away a tear that streamed down his skin, and continued, his voice shaky. "Maybe now I will not be afraid to close my eyes… Ada, Elrohir, Elladan, I love you all. I am at peace."

Taking a deep, ragged breath, Legolas folded the paper back up and clasped it tightly in his palm. Silence fell upon the two elves again, both staring at the ground, shocked. A couple of minutes passed and Lord Elrond suddenly cleared his throat, making the fair elf jump.

"I think, perhaps…" He trailed off. "I think, perhaps, that we should keep this between ourselves." He continued quietly.

"No, Estel needs to know that what happened is nothing to be ashamed off. Keeping secrets and covering it up will not help him get over this." The younger being frowned.

"That is not the reason I wish to hold it back from his brothers." He replied calmly, pushing his locks over his shoulders. "When I discovered his wounds, I could barely restrain myself, if that man had not been taken away already, then I don't know what I'd have done. My sons are still young, and have tempers that rival your father's, if they knew Estel had been harmed like this, then they would kill him."

"And would that be such a bad thing?"

"The guilt would consume them." He said simply, his stern brow furrowing. "I do not think Estel could handle everyone knowing all at once, we will tell the twins together when he is ready. I do not want to force anything upon him." 

Elrond looked at him, their gazes meeting, and in the older elf's blue eyes, Legolas could see the wisdom that told him the raven-haired elf knew best. Reluctantly, Legolas agreed and handed him the note. Through the corner of his eye, he spotted a slight stirring, and they both turned to see Estel blinking tentatively. He looked at them, his eyes like two slits as he tried to adjust to the light, and let out a soft moan. Smiling warmly, the older elf leant in closer, stroking a limp curl from his eyes tenderly.

"It is well, my son." He murmured soothingly. "You are safe, I am with you."

The young boy squinted uncomfortably, his eyes narrowing further. "Ada?" He groaned. "Where am I?"

"Where we found you last night, we will depart for home soon." Elrond explained calmly. "How do you feel?"

"Cold, but my head burns." The grey-eyed child mumbled, slumping his bed back into the pillow.

"Rest, little one. You are overrun with fever, try and get some more sleep."

The journey to Rivendell was an uneasy affair, frustrating but necessarily unhurried. The elves' horses were tired and now carried a heavier load, so speed beyond their energy was not urged. Legolas' ribs also prevented him moving with much pace and walked a goodly way for it was less painful. It was a wearisome injury for the normally agile elf, and he spent most of the nine-day passage deep in his own thoughts, silent and distant. Fever from Estel's refuge in the icy river rampaged in the young man's body, assaulting his already weakened senses. He slept for most of the way, and when conscious, he rarely made much sense, gibbering or shaking, never answering Elrond's cautious questions. Elladan had departed south against his father's will, to return Roiderick's horse and to thank the family for their help, but also, or what Elrond suspected, to find the bodies of Grudoc, Carinyc and Donvan.

It was at dusk on the ninth day when they finally reached home, a grey evening surrounding them and a seasonal chill travelled in the light breeze. The fair elf walked beside Lord Elrond, who rode slowly on his horse, holding the dozing human tightly against him. A mass of dark curls poked out of the soft grey cloak that shielded him from the cooling autumn conditions and Legolas could see a glimpse of his bruised face, his eyes were tightly closed and a sickly sheen coated his sallow skin. They spoke no words; instead letting the sweet intoxicating chorus of the elves soothe their worries as they strayed further into the valley. The songs were celebratory and welcomed their welcome, but there was no banquet or party for everyone was drained, harbouring illness or injury, and most retired to bed with a comforting relief to help sleep peaceful.

Lord Elrond sat on the edge of his son's bed and pulled the soft quilt over his slim frame. He watched Estel ruefully for a moment, and placed a kiss on his bandaged shoulder.

"Most of those wounds will scar, but I have a feeling he will not mind them too much; I get the impression he thinks they are quite the thing to be cooed over for. His warg scars were a hit with some passing maids in the summer…" He remarked quietly, his dark hair falling over his shoulders.

"There are scars that run deeper than his skin." Legolas replied, standing in the doorway.

"And they will heal, in time. His family and friends will be there for him."

"Except that they know nothing of his horror."

"They will, when Estel is ready to tell them." Elrond answered firmly as he rose to his feet, moving silently past the frowning elf. "It is best to let him choose his own path."

"And if it is the wrong one?"

"Then we will give him some gentle guidance. I will force nothing upon him, his spirit is too fragile right now."

They closed the door, leaving Estel alone in the darkness. Two eyes blinked open wide, and he sighed shakily. A tear rolled down his cheek, falling to the pillow silently.

TBC…

Just another fairly obsessed Aragorn fan girl – I agree, the elf gets too much publicity, we need more good Aragorn fics and I'm flattered you think mine is well-written! Don't apologise for the long review, I prefer them, mine are always long!

Arayelle Lynn – You read my mind, more torture to come, then a niceish fic and then a darker one… stay tuned. Legless will be there btw, I can guarantee it.

Voyuerer – There are still a few more twists to go, in the final three chapters.

TigerLily713 – Great poem, it sums up a lot of what Estel is feeling, thanks!

Spades – Cliffhangers are addictive, I don't smoke or really drink so I need a vice! Damn, that makes me sound sad… oh well, you're right though, they are too fun to write, even funnier when people scream at you for doing them.

M J Rosemary – Well, I'm not a very nice person ;-) It was more of a dig at Rumsfeld and all his unknown unknowns and whatnot.

HobbitsRFun – I left it there because I'm evil and bereft of Christmas cheer and need to get my kicks somehow!

Tithen Min – I understand, I've been suffocating under the load of college work, but I'm happily neglecting them for the next week. I'll have to be patient, what other choice do I have other to ask someone to point me in the direction of Tahoe and send my legion of savage penguins to speed you up!

Alex mistress squirrel – Well, there's a rogue squirrel on the loose then and he's mocking my cat/llama, can't someone like arrest it and send it to rodent prison or something along those lines?

Silvertoekee – Wow, I never expected to have to explain the term 'wanker' to anyone! To wank is to masturbate, and so 'wanker' is the equivalent of being a bastard I suppose. It's not a term of endearment… you must have a different word for it in your neck of the woods. Hee, that was fun, international swearing relationships paving the road to world peace!

Dragonfly – Hee, I do love a good cliffie. You all whine like bitches and it makes me cackle. ;-)

Lita of Jupiter – Do you really need Paris and Will? Okay, lend me a couple of elves and Will, and you can keep Jack and Paris, consider it a Christmas present to your favourite author. I'll pop round on Boxing Day for a good old fashioned poke as well and we can discuss conditions, and also return the fangirl (she bit my dad's finger off this morning) RotK was wicked, I cried too many times! I loved all Merry and Pippin's bits, Pippin's song gave me goosebumps, and the A/A bits were so sweet, esp when Aragorn had tears in his eyes and the cuddly child! Legless' bit was great, but everyone was too busy cheering to hear Gimli's line which was a pity. Roll on EE! Oh and no, I like your mammoth reviews, they're great fun to read!