Anyone would have thought him utterly relaxed, at peace as he gazed at the night stars from the small niche that had been carved into the wall of the hall, the vent going straight up through the mountain to the sky. Anyone except the one who found him, that is, and she was the one he was waiting for. He turned when he felt her watching him, his eyes asking a question he didn't have to form in words, mental or otherwise.

"She is clean, and sleeping." Leherim shook her head and motioned down the hall with a slight inclination of her head. Legolas fell into step beside her, knowing she had more to tell him but that motion helped her feel she was doing something. With something as horrible as she had just seen, she had to do something or feel she was being an utter waste of space. "We could do nothing with her hair but cut it. It is horribly short, and not a very fine cut." That was hard to do when your client was unconscious and covered with layers of grime. "But she is clean," she reiterated, holding it up as a single saving point in the entire affair.

Legolas smiled faintly, and ran his hand through her wet tresses in a silent tease.

"Yes, we looked like drowned rats when we were done." It had taken her an hour of bathing to feel clean once she had finished getting their guest cleaned up.

"How is she?"

Leherim looked up at him with a frown he pretended not to see. She faced forward with a tired sigh. "She has bruises nearly all over her back, her arms, her legs. Scratches and cuts, marks from a whip and maybe even a blade and a brand. We tended to her, and most shall heal well in time. Her hands will take a while to heal completely. The nails were nearly ripped off, or had cracked down so far there was an infection…" Leherim shook her head and sighed again. "It's a wonder she's alive."

"Is she as malnourished as I believed?"

Leherim closed her eyes. A picture of the emaciated female drifted to the front of her mind. With a shudder she opened her eyes again, resolutely looking ahead. "Worse. I doubt she has eaten in weeks."

"An amazing feat, then, that she lives." He frowned and looked down at her questioningly.

Leherim shook her head with a heavy sigh. "Not so, dear brother."

"What do you mean?" Thranduil asked, coming out of the library, which they had been walking towards, intending to include him in their discussion of their new guest.

Leherim looked at the ground, her eyes absently tracing a pattern in the stone. "She is an elf."

The two male elves at her side stiffened, Legolas's hands clenching in anger as their father's face blanched and his breath hissed out. "Have you a guess for how old?" he asked after a moment.

Leherim shook her head sadly at him. "She is younger than you, older than a child. I cannot rightly say."

Legolas shook his head, his eyes closed. "Our age, you guess?"

"I would guess, yes, but knowing such trials can age a person, I would not venture it as an informed guess."

Legolas and Thranduil both reached out to Leherim, each laying a hand on one of her shoulders. Legolas slid closer to her, lowering his head the difference in their height so his forehead rested against her temple. Leherim sighed softly and lifted her hand to his neck, rubbing her thumb along his jaw. After a moment she dropped her hand and Legolas kissed her cheek as he straightened.

Thank you, Leherim whispered in her mind.

Anytime you need me, little sister, he murmured back.

I know, she agreed. The caring touch of a loved one, no matter how small, was always so comforting to her.

What troubles you so?

She shook her head almost imperceptibly at his soft question. Wasn't there enough? Madan was banished after plotting against them, and a she-elf was found cowering somewhere in his home, beaten more than half to death. What more did she need to be troubled? Knowing he would ask or watch her silently until he got an answer, she sighed softly. I can't help but wonder if she has ever had anyone there for her as I have you two.

Legolas's eyes darkened as he looked over her shoulder at the hall they had walked through. If she didn't, she would not have made it to be sheltered beneath your wings, little one.

Leherim nodded as she accepted the truth of his statement. Yes, but it must have been a long time.

His eyes met hers again, and she saw the stark reality there which she had concluded while cleaning the she-elf's wounds. If she did not begin returning to life soon, the she-elf currently resting in their guest room would finish fading away. Neither one of the siblings had believed her an elf, because she no longer had the inner light, the strength and fire shining from her that was an inherent part of all elves. She was on the verge of death.