A/N: Sorry for getting this to you late! But don't worry, it's a long one. I wanted to make sure I got this right.
On the last chapter some of you were confused as to what was going on towards the end. Well, let's just say this: the elf that was in the room was Elrohir. The elf that was in the hallway was Elladan. Haldir kept confusing their names… because … well, you will find out soon. And Elrohir is the one that comes to Legolas' door at the end of the chapter.
Enjoy!
"Who is it?" A question he didn't need to ask, he began to open the door and just as the door was opened only a few inches, the reply came:
"Elrohir." Legolas fought back his instincts to slam the door shut, but thought it would be decent of him not to.
It was indeed Elrohir, but he looked different, he seemed – dare he say – gentle. Surely, Legolas had recognized the knock and had no doubt thought it to be that of his brother's. Legolas kept his feet still; he made no indication to the dark elf that it was permissible to come in.
Elrohir did not move further, "Are you going to invite me in, Prince Legolas?"
Legolas looked the elf over again. He was wearing some of the most magnificent robes he had ever seen. The material was dark blue velvet trimmed with gold ribbing. The fabric was draped numerous times over his shoulders which showed it was to represent a great honor: it was truly an exquisite piece of Elven handiwork.
"Why should I let you in?" Legolas asked wearily.
"Because I asked you politely to do so," Elrohir said musically but not mockingly. He still hadn't made any attempts or showed any indications of breaking into the room.
Remembering that he had his weapons at hand, the blond fully opened the door and stepped to the side, "Please, come in." With proper permission, the dark elf sauntered into the room. Legolas watched his every move as he closed the door behind the mysterious elf. "Why did you come here?"
"You have taken, let us say, special notice of my brother. You must know that I care very much about him. It is quite the understatement to even claim that he is my other half," Elrohir started to fiddle with some ornaments on the mantel of the fireplace, not facing his audience at all. "Legolas, please, sit down. I can practically feel the floor shake from your nervous nature at this moment."
Legolas took the seat that was both farthest away from Elrohir and closest to his fighting knives, "I have noticed the dedication you two share. Clearly, a beautiful relationship: I admire that."
Elrohir turned at that, a horribly familiar glint in his eye, "Thank you, prince."
Even though it was obvious that Elrohir was Elladan's twin, they didn't always look alike to a great extent. But at that moment, Legolas could see startling similarities for some reason. Elrohir's expression was lighter but still serious just like his brother's but not exactly.
"Why did you come here?" Legolas repeated with more authority, but he could not help feeling remorseful for a moment because Elrohir's reaction was of an offended Elladan. A wave of guilt for his harsh actions threatened to overtake him.
"Legolas," his eyes were wide with hurt and he slowly walked to his chair in such a haunting way. The movement of his robes as they dragged smoothly on the floor was even like the movements of Elladan. "Please, Legolas. Do not be hostile towards me anymore." The dark elf came to stand in front of the blonde prince who was just itching to grab his blades from the pillows they hid under. "I know that I have not been fair to you. But after much contemplation, I have found it in my heart to apologize to you." Before the prince could utter another world, Elrohir kneeled and continued to gaze into the prince's eyes with the greatest sincerity.
"Alright," was all the prince could muster into words; he was horribly baffled by the similarities.
"I have decided that I can't let my hate for you tear apart my relationship with Elladan. No doubt, he means much more to me than you or anyone else ever will. So you can see why I can't let a lesser emotion threaten to destroy a much greater one."
"Yes, I see," Legolas' voice was almost monotone, mesmerized.
Elrohir proceeded to lay his head on Legolas' lap, the prince was too confused to even react to it, "When I hate you I hurt Elladan and I can't have that burden riding on my shoulders. Therefore, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my foolishness." Elrohir softly wrapped one of Legolas' hands into his own, "Besides, we share something spectacular in common, we both love Elladan. I can certainly appreciate of a quality like that in an elf."
"Your musings hold much truth," Legolas affirmed to himself.
"I knew you would understand. Certainly, it would be horribly foolish of us to surround his happiness with such a hateful atmosphere," Elrohir lifted his head from the prince's lap and smiled at him with much respect. Legolas smiled back, he believed the dark elf, trusting him. He had to trust him: he was perfectly groomed, hair absolutely as straight as tall blades of grass, skin unmarred, physique of a celebrated athlete, the face of honesty, and the deep sea blue robes of an honored ruler. Legolas found himself feeling inadequate in his presence, even though he himself was a prince.
Elrohir laid an assuring hand on the prince's shoulder, "Come, brother, share a glass of wine with me in celebration of our reconciliation!"
Legolas felt eager at the thought, "Yes, of course… brother." He added the last word with hesitance which Elrohir undoubtedly noticed. But the dark elf's expression was one of a proud father watching his son dare to take on a new challenge for the first time: a harmless expression.
The blonde followed Elrohir to his quarters, forgetting all the malice between them before. He marveled at the extreme beauty of the room. The carpet was an intricate, almost ancient Elven design; no furnishings were on it and Legolas did not dare to even step on it in fear that he may tear apart the delicate fibers. The walls were made with faultless clay created by the dwarfs and traded to them long ago, before hostilities were forged between them. Along the wall stood one tall bookcase which showcased various Elven ornaments, but surprisingly only a few fairly old volumes. Legolas furrowed his brow in confusion and walked towards the bookcase.
Elrohir popped open a bottle of wine, "This is the finest Elven wine in all of Imaldris. Can you believe it, Legolas?"
"Surely, you will not waste it on a humble elf like me," he murmured as he read the spines. They were at least a thousand years old by the looks of them. Not to mention, they were merely school books reserved for elflings on the verge of coming of age. Of course, every elf would come across such books in one's life, but something was not right. Based on what he knew of Elrohir…
Elrohir watched him carefully and after pouring two glasses of the fine wine, he walked up behind Legolas, following his gaze, "Please, Legolas, refrain from such trivial interests and celebrate with me." A nervous giggle followed the plea. But it wasn't Legolas' giggle: instead of reaching for the glass of wine, he reached for one of the books.
Upon opening it he learned it was about archery, a quizzical reaction played on his face, "This book must be from your childhood, you must have studied it quite well."
"Nonsense, I loathed archery as an elfling," the words escaped.
"Now it is my turn to claim 'nonsense,' for surely you must have read this one over and over, the pages are brown with fingerprints, the spine almost cracked in three, and the overall wear and tear show much dedication," Legolas smirked in disbelief at the book. "It's hard to believe you were able to study something so well along with all those other endeavors you must've been presented with."
Elrohir tried to smile to mask his nerves which were beginning to make themselves known, "Yes, it was very difficult." He set the glasses on a small table and watched Legolas flip through the book.
"For a scholar, I must say, you have a very meager book collection. Where are the various annals of history, the books of politics, and the holy books of religions?" Legolas laughed lightly at his own musings and turned to Elrohir for his answer.
The dark elf suddenly turned much darker, "Who told you I was a scholar?" His question was asked fiercely and urgently.
Legolas hardly noticed the turn of emotions, "Elladan. He says you rival some of the greatest minds in Middle Earth. You are also a diplomat? A prodigy, perhaps even a genius…"
A coughing fit quickly came over the young twin, a trace of pain on his face, "What else have you heard?"
"Elrohir, are you alright?"
"Yes! What else?" he urged the prince to continue.
"Your connections to the Valar are almost incomparable. I have heard many things of the like, but something bothers me about it all, Elrohir."
"Dear prince, whatever could that be?"
"I have stayed here in Imaldris for quite some time and not once have I seen you converse with any leaders, like most diplomats. In fact, I rarely see you speaking to another. When was the last time you even left these grounds?" Legolas' logic began to connect the imperative information from his random questions. He returned his glances towards the stark contents of the bookcase, "A celebrated scholar does not have such books."
"Books… for such an attractive elf, you ask too many interesting questions," Elrohir picked up his glass and sipped the dark liquid from it, his hands were shaking.
Legolas traced a finger over the old and completely irrelevant books, "For a ruler of Imaldris, dressed in the finest blue robes, you are full of interesting information - which you refuse to divulge." Elrohir smoothed down the breast of his robes, letting his fingers drag languidly over the numerous folds of velvet. His hands shortly rested on his hips before he took a seat on the bed. He covered his face with his hands and let a short whimper escape his finely parted lips.
"Please," Elrohir indicated the spot next to him on the bed. Legolas sat next to him; the small fire that was sparked by his previous inquisitions began to inspire suspicion into his mind. "It's funny that you say I am full of interesting information, prince."
"I am only speaking the truth. I only say this to you because I care for you, as I must for Elladan's sake."
"You do speak the truth, I am full of interesting information now that I have read all of the annals of Mirkwood from the first volume to the latest," Elrohir turned his head slowly to face the prince's shocked expression.
"Why?"
Elrohir grasped the elf's hands with a calm fervor, they were quickly bound in a strong Elven string, "Legolas, you are a filthy liar and I find you most contemptible."
"What are you going to do to me? Why have you tied me?" Legolas questions were merely raspy whispers weakened by the knives of betrayal.
Elrohir ignored his queries: "Did you wonder where I was the past day or so? I was reading all about your realm. In fact, I just finished an hour or so ago, and I read the most interesting things."
"Please, Elrohir, let me go," the prince pleaded, all his senses trying their hardest to comprehend what was happening.
"I read in the guard's statistics, that your numbers are horribly dwindling. As of late, there is no way whatsoever that Mirkwood would ever be able to fight the dark forces threatening to claim it. Not to mention, the elves on your guard are merely children who have barely, if at all, come of age. How strange…"
"Stop," his command fell upon ears deaf to such manners of mercy.
"Why would you come here to Imaldris to ask Haldir to train you? Haldir's manners of instruction are developed over much time and are difficult to master even after 15 years. This time is not at Mirkwood's disposal. According to the calculations I made based on the histories of all comparable nations, in 15 years Mirkwood will merely be an afterthought," Elrohir tugged on the cord rather roughly, causing the rope to burn their captive's wrists.
"Enough, enough…"
"I read about your mother: tragic, truly tragic. You were merely an elfing at the time, only a toddler, but I'm sure you remember the first time you realized you would not see her for quite some time," Elrohir clenched his fists. "That is a moment which no son forgets."
"Why must you speak of such things?"
"I read about your father as well. It seems to me and the authors of those volumes that he has lost all passion in life. Surely, he is a ruler with many faults and few triumphs who has had two great failures. First being the evitable downfall of his realm, second being the downfall and disgrace of his only son," Elrohir pulled the rope closer, forcing the prince on his lap. He looked down upon his scared face and felt no pity.
"Please, stop now," Legolas squeezed his eyes shut, ashamed of himself. He had almost given up the option of fighting back.
"According to your grades and evaluations from your education in the best military academy of Mirkwood, you were at the top of your class. I applaud you. Upon coming of age, you began the most effective guard Mirkwood has ever seen. I saw the records of the elves on your guard as well, they were the best, the absolute best," Elrohir stroked his blond hair, ignoring his cries.
"Elrohir, please, stop talking…"
"They all died," he stated rather plainly. "Except you, you lived – correction, you were alive. The news report even mentioned how you were locked in your father's room for days. Then what? What happened next, Legolas? Please, tell me."
Legolas became very still, "I don't have to tell you. You already know."
"So why are you really here, prince? Why are you sleeping with Haldir and about to sleep with my brother? The two people that are everything to me," Elrohir softly laid Legolas across the bed. The prince's face remained expressionless, his eyes watching the dark twin's movements with consistency. Elrohir straddled him and began to take off the light tunic of the blond elf. Elrohir wore an innocent face yet slightly marred by fear. "I know why you are here. You're here to absolutely destroy me. You came to erase the little bit of life that I could not destroy myself."
"No, you're wrong!"
His mouth was instantly cupped by a strong hand, "Stop lying! I can't deal with your lies anymore!" Flames were almost reaching in his eyes and he became rough. He ripped the final bit of the light clothing off. "If you scream or say another word, I will make sure you can never utter another." He suddenly grasped a knife and held it threateningly at his neck. "Now, we're going to do what you know best."
Legolas obeyed his every command only because he feared death. But even so, it was not so much that he feared death as he feared never being able to be near Elladan again. Fear wracked his mind… there were too many words and thoughts. Thoughts and memories of the times he had been abused like this in the past by others. However, all of those times were not as nearly as hurtful as this one. At every thrust, he felt weaker and more worthless.
The dreadful thought crossed his mind that he was not good enough for Elladan. Elrohir would always be there to remind him that he was a whore. Unwillingly, he felt he would always be a whore who could never love and especially never be loved.
The door opened without a knock and a loud and pained gasp was heard, "Legolas? In my own room?"
Uh, o! I know, I am horrible, another cliffhanger. Hmmm, kind of have an idea for what should happen next but I want to hear your opinions on this matter…
Please, review? Please?