King Thranduil threw open the door to his study, not even noticing as it crashed against the wall and rebounded, nearly slamming against Legolas as he entered the room. "Mithrandir!"
"Ah, you have returned," Gandalf said softly. "I am afraid that whatever you have to say must wait, however important it is. Elrond and I wish to ask your son a few questions.
"Very well," Thranduil sighed. If it was anyone else, he would have made a stand, but there really was no point with the Wizard.
"You are quite welcome to stay if you wish," Gandalf continued.
The Elven-king made a noise of slight derision as he threw himself into a chair at the side of the room. "Well, I should think so. After all, this is my study, and he is my son."
"If you are going to be so childish, then I can send you elsewhere," Gandalf said sternly.
Legolas and Lord Elrond watched in mild amusement as Thranduil stared at the Istar in absolute disbelief, clearly stunned that he had just been spoken to as if he was a mere Elfling. Eventually, when he had gotten over the shock, he lowered his eyes to the floor and muttered a barely audible apology.
"Thank you," Gandalf said curtly. He looked over at Legolas, and his expression softened. "I can only imagine how hard this is going to be for you, but I must ask if you can tell us what took place in the forest."
"What is it that you wish to know?" the Prince asked in a low voice.
"I believe I am right in saying that upon arriving in the clearing, you found Airëlus, wounded," Gandalf said. "Could you tell me what happened after that?"
Legolas bit down on his lip and looked across at his father, who nodded reassuringly. He took a deep breath, and began speaking slowly. "I heard a voice behind me, so I turned around. It was Calaen. I took out my knife and challenged him to a fight. Looking back, I suppose it was foolish. He is…was stronger, and more experienced than I. But I was so angry."
Gandalf clicked his tongue sympathetically, and leaned forwards in his chair. "What happened then?"
"I was too weak to fight him. I know that now and knew it then, but I threw myself at him, despite that. I managed to get him on the floor. I do not know why I did not kill him then, while I had the chance. All I did was slash his arm with my knife." Legolas paused, and sighed deeply. "He threw me off, and….and he pulled my shirt off, and ripped away the bandage that I wore. In his hand was a phial, and Airëlus kept shouting at him. Calaen paid no attention."
"Do you know what was in the phial?" Gandalf asked softly.
Legolas shook his head. "No. But Airëlus did. He was even weaker than I, but he crawled forwards and tried to help me. Calaen just….just threw him across the clearing."
"You are doing well, pen-neth," Elrond said, watching sadly as the Prince swiped at glistening eyes.
Legolas exhaled deeply in an attempt to steady his voice. "I raised my hand to hit Calaen, but he grabbed my arm and threw it back. That is how I dislocated my shoulder." Unconsciously, he lifted a hand to said shoulder, a distant look in his eyes.
Thranduil leaned forwards and rested his head in his hands, tangling them in his hair. He had to fight hard not to explode as he heard of the abuse of his children. Gandalf looked up at the tense movement, and his eyes flickered with sympathy. Sighing, he motioned for Legolas to continue.
"Calaen felt remorse for what he had done, though," the Prince said. "He agreed to let us go, but said that there was something that he had to do. This is where the phial comes in."
"What did he do?" Gandalf asked quickly.
"He…" Legolas trailed off, and looked from the Wizard to Elrond. "What do you know of this?"
"When your father was in the clearing, he put his hand down on a shard of glass," the Noldor Elf explained. "I have been examining it this past half hour, and have come to the conclusion that it was once part of a phial. That phial held Dolruín."
Legolas did a double take, and stared at Elrond in disbelief. "Dol…Dolruín? Please, tell me that is not true. There could not have been Dolruín in the phial. There could not have!"
"I am sorry," Elrond said. "I have come across it many times before, and would recognize it anywhere. I am certain, as is Gandalf, that the phial held Dolruín."
Legolas lowered his eyes to the floor and stared in absolute horror for a moment, before jumping up from his seat and going over to the door. Thranduil was in front of him in an instant, concern written all over his face. He put a hand on his son's shoulder, and searched the silver eyes for answers.
"Why does that distress you so?" he asked softly.
"It…the phial…Calaen…" Legolas broke off and threw his father's hand away, only to push past him and run from the room.
Realisation suddenly hit, and when it did, it was painful. Thranduil drew in a sharp breath and made to go after his child, but Elrond came and put a hand on his shoulder, holding him still. He looked up into the Noldor Elf's eyes, and shook his head slowly, praying desperately that it was not true.
"He would not do something like that," he said in a low voice. "Calaen would not do something like that to Legolas."
"Do not rule it out," Elrond said. "He did everything else imaginable."
Gandalf cleared his throat. "I know full well what Dolruín is used for, but remain in the dark as to why Legolas is so distressed. Would one of you care to explain?"
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Legolas ran as fast as he could through the corridors of the palace, not even sure of where he was going. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, and his breath came in short gasps as the full impact of what he had just learnt hit him over and over again. He should have known what was in the phial, he should have realised, and tried to fight.
"Am I so blind that I cannot see what is in front of me?" he muttered, swiping at his eyes.
"Clearly you are," Estel said, as he came around the corner only to be nearly run down by the Prince. One look at the tear stained face though, washed all humour away, and without asking any questions, he drew his friend to him.
The Elf closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, wishing that all of his troubles were as easy to let as a breath. "I cannot believe that I did not know. I have seen it before, and yet I did not know what he was going to use."
"What are you talking about?" Estel asked gently, taking a step back.
"Have you heard of Dolruín?" When the human shook his head slowly, Legolas sighed. "It is something that Men of the South use as a torture method. They will badly beat their prisoners, and pour Dolruín into the wounds. Whether they are healed or not, the injuries will burn as though on fire. It is one of the worst things to happen to someone."
"But what does it do?" Estel asked. "What is the point of it?"
"What point?" Legolas shook his head and laughed bitterly. "There is something in it. Do not ask me what, for I cannot answer you. But when that herb gets inside open wounds, it stays in there. No matter how much you wash it, it will not and cannot be removed."
"So, what then?" Estel shook his head slightly. "Does it cause everlasting pain to the wound?"
Without saying a word, Legolas lifted his shirt, and he could see that it took everything in the human's power not to jump back in shock. But he had good reason to be shocked. The word that had been so cruelly engraved into the Prince's abdomen burned with a fire that could never be quenched. As each individual letter leapt out at him, Estel shook his head in disbelief at the abuse of his friend.
"It will stay this way for as long as I live," Legolas whispered, pulling his shirt back down so that word would be hidden. Tears of pain and anguish fell from under his lashes as he was pulled back into an embrace. But he immediately jerked away.
"Do not shut me out," Estel said softly. "I will help you through this time."
"I do not want help from anyone," the Prince muttered. "Not now. Not now that my true identity can be revealed to those around me. Do you not understand? This is….this is something that I must live with forever. Calaen did this to leave an everlasting mark on me, a mark which will serve as a constant reminder of what I have done."
"You have done nothing, mellon-nin," Estel said, shaking his head sadly.
"Do not call me that," Legolas replied, his voice choking with emotion. "I cannot see why you would want to be friends with a murderer."
He held the mortal's gaze for only a moment, before pushing past him and walking away. Estel stared straight ahead, unable to stop tears from gathering in his own eyes. A door slammed from somewhere down the corridor, and as the sound echoed around him, he was powerless to stop them from falling.
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