"Is it done?" Legolas asked the returning elves, having met them outside the entrance to the great hall. His bright eyes scanned them quickly, checking to be sure they had none of the house goods upon them. To bring such to the palace would be a very good way to make people say Thranduil was envious of the other elf's possessions, and that was the true reason he had been exiled. Only wood-elves or dwarves would think such a thing about the king… but in a realm of wood-elves, Legolas was taking no chances about idle rumors. He was a Prince, after all.
"In a manner of speaking, your highness," the one most forward into the hall answered. He was one of the guard, and so had a bit more power in the halls, gained by some familiarity with the prince during times of shared duty on patrols. "We have one matter we were uncertain about dealing with."
"What matter?" Legolas demanded with a frown.
The elf tugged on a chain he had wrapped about his palm, pulling a pathetically huddled being into Legolas's watchful gaze. "What are we to do with this?"
Legolas looked down at the dirty mess. He could see matted, muddy and bloody hair of uncertain color, skin of layered mud and ash, and tattered cloth that appeared to have been made from ripped and worn trade bags which wrapped the majority of the crouched figure in a haphazard manner that spoke ill of someone's skill with needle and thread. "What is…" he hesitated an instant, "it?"
The guard sighed and shook his head with a slight shrug that rattled the chain. The figure hunched a bit farther into itself, cowering away from the elf until the chain was almost straight. "Can't rightly say, your highness. Won't let us get close enough to do so. The chain and shackles were already upon the poor thing when we found it. It was locked in a small cell of sorts, solid stone, beneath the other rooms of the house. A sort of cellar, I suppose." He shook his head again. "It made the dungeons look like royal quarters, my lord."
Legolas frowned and looked at the chain in question, his already volatile anger rising farther in him as he saw it had been crafted by the elves, making his eyes darken as the dark rims grew in together, fine spokes of stormy color slashing through the bright blue. "A fine chain," he murmured, his eyes narrowing.
"I may know the smith," the guard agreed, his tone making clear what he would like to do to the creature's owner, if only given a few minutes and leave to do so.
Shaking his head at the crazy world where elves hurt other creatures, Legolas crouched down to the cowering being. "Hello. What's your name?" he tried, keeping his voice as gentle as soft as possible.
Wide, light-colored eyes peered at him for a moment before hiding behind the hair, much like a small child who believes anything he couldn't see, couldn't see him.
Legolas frowned and reached out, intending to move the hair out of the way so he would know if it was a human or an elf, or one of the wild men, full grown or a child… or maybe even just some odd creature—perhaps a mistake by the dark powers when they tried to create orcs. He never got the chance to know what it was, for as soon as he reached out the being recoiled, flinching away from his attempted touch, pulling the chain taunt, but not straining against it, as if certain the guard would not give in so much as an inch, and a painful reprisal would come for testing the chain's length. "I won't hurt you," Legolas promised softly, and tried once more after ducking down a bit lower in an attempt to appear non-threatening.
The being shuddered and crouched lower, guarding its head with arms that had blackish streaks of mud and blood, the finger nails black, cracked and raggedly ripped where not dusted pale grey by ash.
At the obvious fear reaction Legolas sucked in a pained breath and stood so quickly he was dizzy. His stomach clenched as the creature at his feet quickly rolled away from him, as if believing Legolas was about to dole out a harsh kick. "What has he done?" he asked softly. "Madan," he growled, noticing the shudder that racked the creature every time he spoke.
"What's going on, Legolas?" a female voice asked from just within the great hall.
"Don't—"
It was too late. Leherim saw the being and gasped, falling to her knees before the creature. "What happened to her?" she asked, staring at the being in distress he could almost touch. He certainly felt it, bringing warmth to the back of his eyes.
"Her?" Legolas and half the group echoed. He looked critically at the being, tilting his head slightly to the side. "How can you tell?"
"I'm a she-elf," Leherim snapped, not taking her eyes of the creature. "Take the chain off!"
"Beg pardon, my lady, but I don't know that that's a good idea. We considered that at first, but she, if she it be, is in a dreadful state, and would probably run if given the chance."
Leherim frowned at the guard's words, and then crawled closer to the possibly female creature. "Then at least have her taken to a room where she can clean up."
"Maybe then we could know her race," Legolas sighed in agreement, not bothering to add about the sex. He knew it was useless arguing with Leherim when she was like this, and there was really nothing else they could do. Nothing else that would be within the bounds for any decent beings—be they elves or not—at any rate.
"Yes," Leherim agreed, looking into the hair. "My name is Leherim," she murmured softly, in her best kind elf to injured animal voice.
Legolas smiled slightly to hear it, but sent his sister a quick warning in their minds of the frightened and defensive behavior the female had shown so far. To his surprise, as soon as his sister spoke, even before he could finish explaining, the creature stopped shaking. The head tilted slightly and the frightened grey eyes peered out again.
"Come with me, please. I'll clean you up, and no one will hurt you." Leherim slowly stood, shaking her head at the chain. "Horrid chain," she hissed at it, taking it from the reluctant guard as if it were a poisonous snake, a look of repulsion on her face, curling her lip. She walked slowly, the being moving cautiously along in small, partial steps, using the roughened hands as a beast would to follow his sister, never letting the chain tighten though she stayed as far as allowed from everyone.
"Perhaps I should—" He got no farther than that, for the instant he began moving the being flinched and pressed closer to Leherim, brushing into the full skirt, though not touching her. Legolas frowned in distress, and backed away, feeling the being watching him carefully though he couldn't see her eyes. She watched everyone carefully. "I shall inform Father of our guest," he said, changing his mind. Silently he lifted his gaze to his sister's.
Do not take it to heart, Legolas.
How can I not? He replied to her words bitterly in his mind. Shall I send Hallanya up?
Leherim nodded with a faint sigh. That would be a fine idea. Warn her in advance of the poor creature's wretched state, lest she behave inappropriately and frighten the poor girl farther.
Legolas nodded. As you wish, it shall be done. He started to leave the hall, but paused for a moment, looking back at what of the creature he could see. Painfully thin, with skin stretched over bones and hair wrapped around and with the sackcloth in such a way he found it hard to imagine bathing had been a regular occurrence for several weeks, or even months. Be careful, dear one.
I shall, but I do not believe she intends—or would ever cause—anyone any harm.
Still studying the creature, Legolas recalled seeing a doe cornered by some wolves when he was younger. She had been breathing quickly, her fine velvet nostrils flaring to catch any hopeful scent on the wind, her eyes wide as she found only pain, and ultimately death. He had seen the light—the fire of life and freedom—in the doe's eyes go out. He had also seen the limp body of the wolf she had managed to kill before giving in to the inevitable. He had wished for months he had carried his bow at the time, though in truth he would have probably done nothing. Wolves had to eat, just as did any other creature.
Leherim, still connected to his mind, had seen the same memory, felt the same regrets. A new situation may bring hope.
Or despair. Keep your wits about you.
Leherim nodded and began walking once more, never needing to tug on the chained creature. She followed behind like a tame puppy. One who had been hit too many times.
Legolas bowed his head, not understanding how any elf could do that to any creature that wasn't an orc. He quickly left the room, seeking out his father as he had told Leherim he would. Thranduil would not be happy about this, about this wretched being's pitiful state, though he would gladly give her a place as long as she was alive and the royal family remained in Mirkwood.
Leherim sighed softly and entered the guest room that she had chosen for its lack of finery. Less to be cleaned once she and Hallanya had finished with their guest for the evening.
Closing her eyes, Leherim sought out Legolas, asking him to send a few things with Hallanya that they would need to get the poor thing cleaned. Then she moved over to the bath, the female following her though she had set the chain down once closing the door to the room. She shifted the metal bar which kept the water from flowing into the bath on one of the highest platforms, letting it race down the small, elf-crafted waterfall until it filled the basin. A hole at the far end would let the water trickle out, keeping the hot water flowing continuously.
The being below her stared in fascination at the water as it cascaded down to fill the basin, which could be drained through another release mechanism, which would snap back into place to block the water when in use.
Leherim smiled. "It's from a hot spring, in the mountain."
The being stared at her.
Knowing she could well be imagining the quizzical look she thought she was getting, Leherim continued speaking, encouraged by the lack of a terrified response Legolas had mentioned observing every time when he had spoken. "The pipes bring the water to the rooms, and then we can choose where to turn it on. The closer to the bath we start the flow, the hotter the water. It shouldn't be too hot now, since I started it so high, but it will still be pleasantly warm for you."
The being reached up and touched some of the water, putting her hand under one of the small drops where the water changed levels on its way to the bath. Then she tested another level higher up, and another, until she jerked her hand away from a higher one.
"You can get in the bath anytime," Leherim murmured, but the being seemed to be ignoring her. The washed-out grey eyes flashed over everything, and then the hands, one nearly black and the other streaked with rivulets of dirt and deathly pale skin from her exploration of the water, began probing the walls. She stood up, partially crouched still, and put one foot on the edge of the basin.
The door swung open and Hallanya bustled in, startling both of the bathroom's occupants. Leherim jumped against the wall, flattening her back to it, and the creature leapt away from the noise while turning to see what was coming, which resulted in a very large splash, two sopping wet she-elves standing frozen in shock, and one unconscious creature sliding into the basin of water which was already running nearly black for the filth she was covered with as matted hair half-floated and half-sank.
Leherim caught her up as she began sinking into the water, and quickly checked the head injury with fingers used to such because of a hard-headed brother who insisted on being a guard, a messenger, and a tree-climbing elf who forgot he was only half wood-elf most of the time. The check was made difficult by the metal mass locked over the female's ears and the top of her head, before joining the metal collar which was linked to her shackled wrist by another length of chain. "She'll be fine soon," she murmured after a moment, relief flooding her and filling her voice. "So let us hurry with those shears," she instructed Hallanya, somewhat glad her new charge had lost consciousness. It would certainly make things easier.