LadyJadePerendhil: I can understand your impatience… and I don't blame you… but… No, he isn't lying. He may be in denial, but he's done a good enough job of it he thinks of her as nothing but a friend. Mostly. Probably. At the time. Likely not from then on, as she has asserted herself as an adult who can give as good as she gets in verbal spars. With her memories of weapons being used, I don't think she will ever be able to pick one up herself. She would likely be shaking too hard to hold onto it, even with Legolas there to help her. My brand? What, slow and grammatically correct?
Lady Deidra: Thank you! Hope you continue to enjoy!
Farflung: I think you've overestimated her. I think she would do something like that, if she thought for a moment she could get away with it. Of course, I'm not so sure she has the guts to carry something like that out herself. Well, Leherim and Legolas certainly never used it for that… hmm… Hey, thank you. I look forward to your reviews every time I post.
Animir: It was sort of planned, and sort of not. I find it's an author thing—I know exactly what I mean, and only on rereading it to I find I made it slightly unclear, or left you with a cliffhanger, or something like that. In the last chapter, I didn't want to just come right out with it, but sorry I confused you.
Iluvien: I think it's my favorite, too, but my muse likes to bug me with new ideas for this one, too. Not that I mind. Yes, the memories are of her father. Thranduil isn't as confused as he could be. He at least sees a potential match where they don't.
Princess Myra: I think I know what you mean—Thanks!
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Mirimir took a shaky breath, tightening her hands around the balcony's railing. The abrasive stone helped ground her in the present, the cool night air soothing on her overheated skin. She shook her head. "This is unbelievable," she croaked, before taking another breath, trying to keep the tears burning her eyes and constricting her throat from overflowing.
"But you know it is the truth." Though he said it as a statement, she knew there was a question behind the weary voice.
"Yes," she agreed softly with a sigh. She didn't turn as he came closer, didn't move as his arms slid around her waist. "How could any elf be so awful? So cruel and…" Words failed her. She couldn't begin to find words adequate to describe the things she remembered. At the time, they had been common place, everyday occurrences which hadn't stunned her, though she had been mindlessly terrified most of her life. But now, looking back, things seemed even worse to her now than they had at the time, since now she knew how things were supposed to have been, could tell how wrong His treatment of her had been.
Legolas sighed softly, kissed her hair and drew her back so she was resting against him. Only once she had moved her hands from the railing to rest on the arms he had put around her did he move, leading her back to her room. "You should try to—"
She shook her head rapidly, her short hair flailing about her as she pulled to an abrupt halt, tearing from his grasp. "No! Every time I try to rest I see something else, something so…"
He pulled her into his arms again, coaxing her to remain with him as he eased back onto the bed. "You will wake quickly, and I will be here when you do."
"I don't think I could stand another one tonight."
He closed his eyes, something sharp twisting in his gut as he heard the quiver in her voice. He pulled her even closer as he rolled to his side, pressing her face against his throat. "Then think of good memories, and cling to them."
Easy for him to say. Still, she closed her eyes with a resigned sigh, reopening them to find his watchful gaze upon her. Knowing he would remain there until she agreed, would lay there just watching her, his hand running lightly over her back, or her arm, or in this case through her hair, she rolled her eyes and did her best to relax, loosening the tight grip she had on the material at his waist.
At first everything was good and fine. She was recalling a time with Leherim in the small garden for their late lunch. Elrohir and Legolas had joined them before long, and the meal had been decidedly pleasant, though Elrohir was a bit dull when he wasn't playing harmless tricks on her. But once the meal was finished, things began changing. Legolas and Leherim left, Elrohir following his wife quickly.
The flowers in the garden withered and died, the small waterfall carved into the stone turned rusty before stopping altogether, the stone walls darkening with the ruin of water and time as the light created by the magic of the elves—and some dwarf craftsmen—faded away into nothingness. The walls began glowing faintly, glowing with the absent flicker of flame as the warm day faded into a chilled night.
She turned until she found the source of the light, shuddering as she saw the red iron lying in the coals. She knew that iron better than any smith would, had felt it pressing into her in so many places she couldn't begin to tell if she had any untouched place upon her. Her breath came a bit harder, and she made her way to the wall, sliding down until she was on the floor, cowering away as that brand was lifted, the light of the fire glowing in cruel, dark eyes. He held it above the flames, studied the red-orange glow, before a faint smile touched His lips, twisting them.
She calmed her breathing and cowered into a smaller ball, trying to blend in with the wall if she could.
But no, He was turning away from her, ignoring her huddled existence.
A soft whimper hit the air.
It took her a moment to realize it hadn't been in her head—it had really touched the air.
Rendered mute, as she always was, she looked up, and saw the brand move down to char the skin of a young elf. His face twisted as he held in the scream of pain she saw in his blue eyes. When the iron was lifted, his head fell, a soft sob escaping him as his skin finished smoking, blisters already formed within the puckered flesh. His faded blue eyes lifted after the heartbeats needed to temper the worst of the pain, his eyes seeking her. He looked away only when the cooling brand lowered again to his back, burning his shirt onto and into his flesh.
Her hands curled into fists, and she held back a sob as the one who wielded the iron lifted it, the scent of burnt flesh too familiar to her, her own marks burning with the memory as the iron was struck with his sword, the sparks flying down, smoldering in the young elf's clothing, lighting briefly in his black hair before the sparks died.
The blue eyes lifted again, seeking her out. 'Get away,' he mouthed, his ratted hair blocking the movement from the elf standing over him, the elf who brought the sword which was lit by the red of the fire down onto the lad's burnt back, stained red as it came up only to fall once more.
A sudden shake brought her to a warm room, unlit by flame that danced beyond its accepted bounds. She shuddered, recalling for the first time the last time those faded blue eyes had landed upon her. "Kalick," she breathed, before she began shaking in earnest. "Legolas," she sobbed softly, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to bury her face in his chest, causing the arms already holding her tightly to tighten a bit more. "I… I had a brother."
He stiffened against her, a harsh breath released into her hair. "What happened?"
"He… he gave up." She shuddered and reached up, wrapping a hand around his neck to help her settle herself so she could hear his heart. Her words' effect on him was clear, his heart racing beneath her ear as she burrowed against him, the hand not clenching the material at his nape searching out a patch of warmth for her fingers at his waist. "He endured it as long as he could, but with no end in sight… he gave up. Although He didn't actually kill him, he may as well have."
"His name was Kalick?" Legolas asked softly, his head tilted so the faint whisper caressed the tip of her ear. When she nodded, he hugged her lightly, rubbing small circles with his thumb at the small of her back. "His name shall be added to the list of the lost," he promised her.
She nodded again, and burrowed closer, feeling so cold, even as he wrapped her in a blanket and allowed her to slide her fingers under his shirt to help absorb his warmth. She spent the remaining time with her eyes closed, so she couldn't drift off into dreams again.