Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR.
Rating: PG – 13
Author's Note: Thank you to Elf771 for reviewing The Strength of One Green Leaf. And
to Templa Otmena for the numerous reviews, as well as congratulating me on the new nominations! Thank you!
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by Kasmi Kassim
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From Twilight to Dawn
Chapter 15: Weep, Little One, Weep
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Days passed since the young prince's lapse of sanity. The castle was hushed, tight with silence. The king was resting in a healing chamber, recuperating from an injury after a solitary battle against a band of orcs. He had ridden out alone in the dark of the night. And when he came back limping and cloaked in black blood the following dawn, no one had questioned him.
Elladan tiredly rubbed his eyes. Stretching his sore body, he rose from the floor and turned to gaze at the door that stood by him. The door which allowed no one to enter.
With a nod, he acknowledged the approach of his brother, who was wiping a blood-stained sword. Elrohir glanced at the door.
"I am beginning to think that we may have made a mistake," he said in a low voice. Elladan raised an eyebrow in askance.
Wearily, Elrohir sheathed his sword and plopped down onto the carpet. "The man that we freed at the entrance of the forest," he explained. "We should have brought him here. For questioning."
Elladan nodded. The very thing had been lurking uncertainly in the depths of his mind as well, though he was too weary, mood too dark to bring it forth to his lips.
"We should not have been so quick to believe him," continued Elrohir, running a weary hand across his face. "We were careless."
"We were worried about Legolas," replied Elladan, soothingly. He sat down beside his twin. "We were inclined to believe what a bound man abandoned by Mirkwood would claim about being an unfortunate witness to an incidental sighting of a struggle – especially with his descriptions of Legolas."
Elrohir leaned his head back against the wall. His eyes hauntingly stared up at the ceiling. "Even so," he breathed, "we were careless."
Elladan sighed. His hand comfortingly reached around his brother's shoulder, and silence settled into the air. Both brothers remained still, one staring at the ceiling, one looking down at the floor.
The silence was pushed aside when Elrohir opened his lips.
"Do you think..." eyes still staring at the ceiling, he breathed in deeply. "Do you think they did that to Nana too? What he is going through?"
The grip on his shoulder tightened. Elladan's eyes burned into the carpet. "Do not think about it, Elrohir."
Both fell into a silence again. Elrohir closed his eyes.
"How is he?"
Elladan raised his gaze, and drew out a long breath. The air seemed so gray today. Just as gray as the days after Nana had sailed. The days when he had held Elrohir as the younger twin wailed in his arms. The days when he had gone out into the rain to slaughter the orcs alone. When Elrohir had come to find him, had cried onto his chest as he continued to slaughter the motionless corpse of the enemy, dazed and blank. The rain had washed his tears away, the roar of thunder drowning out the screams.
The hallway was so quiet.
"We will have to be patient. He is not moving."
Elrohir bit his lip. Opening his eyes, he glanced at the dark door. "We have been patient long enough, brother."
Elladan shook his head. "He has been through a nightmare. Let him recover."
His brother gloomily stared down at the carpet, at his twin's pale fingers that rested against it. "He refuses to awaken, Elladan. He is still curled into himself, trembling in fear. Someone needs to break his nightmares, and drag him out into the light."
He was met with a long silence. Elladan let out a weary sigh. It sounded like a moan of the winds, the quiet breezes that swept through the gray clouds.
"I do not want to hear him scream anymore, Elrohir." Pleading eyes looked up into the eyes of his twin. Identical storms of troubled gray met. The voice was soft, so soft. "I do not want to hear anyone scream anymore."
Silence settled into the grayness. Elrohir gritted his teeth. His brother's eyes were haunted, empty.
He reached out and tightly clasped his fingers around the pale hand of his brother.
"You told me not to think about it," he hissed fiercely, shaking his brother's hand. "Stop it. Stop it!"
Elladan lowered his gaze.
Silence enveloped the gray halls.
Elrohir waited as his brother breathed deeply, closing his eyes. At last, Elladan's dark lashes lifted once again, revealing gray eyes sparkling with grim determination.
"Let us see him then," he said in a quiet, curt tone, and rose to his feet. Elrohir followed suit. Opening the doors, the twins entered the healing chamber.
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Legolas slowly awoke to the strange grayness of the room. Wearily, he rubbed his eyes.
How long had he slept? He was not certain. He wanted to fall back onto the cold floor, sleep, and never wake up again. He was so tired. So tired.
As he fingered the blankets covering his body, the images returned unbidden. The hands that slid up and down his body. The slithering touch brought back the tremors that had been silenced by slumber. Shivering, he wrapped his arms tightly about himself.
Was this what Nana had suffered at the hands of the orcs?
Pain was endurable. In his short life, Legolas had experienced more than a fair share of pain and agony. Injuries were rare, but still a familiar occurrence; emotional pain was an everyday occurrence that came with the task of being a healer. A grief of a human widow, the wails of an orphaned human child. Though he had yet to encounter death among his people despite the daily war, he had made enough trips to Imladris and Lothlorien to have seen and touched the pains of humans on t he way. And soothing their aching hearts, he always took the pain into his own, experiencing the grief that he had never known.
But this...this was more.
Much more.
He shuddered. Pain was endurable. But this was not. The foul stench of the breaths that warmed his neck, the calloused hands that slid up and down his body. The low laughter dripping with an emotion that he could not fathom. It was all so new, so strange. So frightening.
Nana, he whispered, unfocused eyes staring up at the ceiling, I am sorry.
He should have never touched the orc. He should have listened to his father. He should have...
You killed Nana.
Legolas plugged his ears.
Stop it.
The world was spinning. And the hands were back, sliding up and down his body, breathing foul odor onto his neck. Swallowing, he shivered violently.
Struggles, screams, wails of anguish and pain.
I am not the one who killed Nana.
Legolas shut his eyes. Buried himself deeper into his raised knees, curled into a ball.
You killed her. I am not the one. You are.
A claw dragging across his skin.
He opened his eyes.
You hurt her. You hurt her. You hurt her. I could do nothing. But you hurt her.
"Legolas?"
The door opened. Legolas closed his eyes.
Elrohir stepped in after his brother, and bit his lip when he saw the elf curled against the wall. His long hair was hanging over his knees, gently touching his bare feet. He did not respond to Elladan's gentle call.
Elrohir approached slowly, cautious as to not startle the younger elf. Legolas still did not respond, however. Elrohir slowly kneeled before the prince, looking into the buried face.
"Legolas," he called softly. "Legolas, you must eat."
Standing some steps behind his brother, Elladan turned his gaze to study the silver tray of food resting on the bedside table. The food was left untouched.
"Legolas," called Elrohir again. "You cannot continue this. You must eat, my friend."
Tentatively, Elrohir reached out and brushed back a strand of hair. There was no response.
"Legolas," he called again, softer, gentler. His fingers grew bolder and pushed back the drapes of golden hair, revealing a ghastly pallor and a tightly hidden face. "Please."
At the soft tone, the elf flinched; Elrohir gently stroked his hair, murmuring words of comfort, whispers of encouragement. The prince trembled, and curled into himself even tighter.
Elrohir gasped in surprise when his brother suddenly grabbed his arm from behind and pulled him back up to his feet. Pushing Elrohir aside, Elladan strode toward the younger elf, and stood before him, looking down. His eyes were burning with an unfathomable storm, a wild fury that mingled without and within.
"Get up, Prince," he said, voice low. Elrohir blinked, alarmed.
"Rise, Legolas of Mirkwood. You have licked your wounds long enough. You are not so weak!"
A hand grabbed the unwilling elf's arm, and hauled him upward. As if turned to stone, the lithe body resisted with surprising ferocity.
Elladan's voice trembled, laced with blazing anger. "Get up, Prince! This cold floor and that wretched corner is not your place! Come out into the center of the room like the prince that you are!"
The force of the tug was so powerful that it finally unveiled the youth's face. Blank blue eyes were blazing with instinct - hate and fear, vengeance and terror, gleaming in the unfocused orbs in a mad clash of insanity. His feet dragged on the floor as Elladan pulled him toward the center of the room. When he found himself unable to resist, the young elf threw his head back and screamed.
A keening wail, long and shrill, mournful and terrible across the sad gray sky.
Elrohir looked away.
Gritting his teeth, Elladan continued to pull, and the body suddenly zoomed in close. Startled, he evaded a swing reflexively.
Should have known. Legolas preferred knives in place of swords for a reason. He was dexterous and daring, never on the defensive. He did not wait for the enemy to come within battle range; he always zoomed into the range first.
And should you get hit first? Elladan had asked once.
Then I must be faster and make sure to hit them first, the prince had replied.
Elrohir had laughed and said that the elfling was being idealistic. But when they met years later, the two brothers could not hit the young prince first.
And now, the offensive battle instincts were taking over the trembling body.
As Legolas thrashed and attacked, Elladan quickly released his grip, barely evading a projectile that flew past his ear. A crash shattered against the door.
Elrohir glanced back to find a dented bronze heap of a water ewer by the door. At least the healers did not bring glass. They knew better than to leave anything fragile or extraneous around the prince by now.
Before Elladan could recover from the surprise, the slender form of the prince had already picked up the silver tray. Elladan ducked, hastily pushing down Elrohir's head as well, as the tray flew in the air and hit the door.
"Legolas!"
The prince was at last broken out of his shell. And he was uncontainable.
The brothers ducked and dodged as more projectiles flew in the air with deadly accuracy, crashing against the door, the walls, the shelves. Elrohir looked toward Elladan in panic. Elladan gestured toward the door, and the two began to elusively back away toward it. They could barely make out the feral form of the prince now, so wild and desperate was the howling whirlwind before them.
"Legolas!"
The twins both looked up in surprise. Before the door stood the king, pale in his majesty, his chest bare except for a half-opened green robe. A knife that hung around his waist was the only weapon he carried; his hair was wet and tangled, tumbling wildly down his back and chest. His eyes were riveted upon the madly raging form of his son, who proceeded to throw half of a table toward his head.
"My lord!" The brothers' eyes widened in horror.
The king's glittering eyes were set. With determination lining his jaw, he stepped forward, and briskly covered the distance between himself and his son. Panicked, Legolas stepped back, throwing the other half of the table at him.
Evading the projectile swiftly, Thranduil neared his son. Legolas' eyes trembled in terror. He grabbed a broken shelf, and threw a ewer, whatever came into his hands – and yet the king continued to resolutely cover the distance between them, determined to approach his son.
Legolas looked around wildly; and then, he looked at his father again, and in a blur, darted forward. King Thranduil's step faltered as his son zoomed in close, swiftly pulled out the knife from his loose waistband, and with a strangled cry, drove the blade deeply into his chest.
The twins cried out in terror.
Legolas's breathing was ragged as he remained motionless, blood pumping beneath the blade in his hand. His eyes trembled, fixed upon the pale chest of his father, as his breaths filled the silence of the room. He blinked dizzily. And then looked up, confused.
Sorrowful blue eyes looked down upon him. And slowly, Thranduil raised his arms, and wrapped them around his trembling son, gently pulling him close against his throbbing heart.
Pale fingers trembled against the hilt of the knife that remained embedded against the broad breast. And engulfed in his father's warm embrace, the child clutched the damp gold hair that touched his cheek, and a mournful wail slid between clenched teeth.
The twin brothers watched as father embraced son and son clung to father, the ragged wail rising shrill into the air. Watching the violent tears crash onto frozen silence, weeping with bitter grief for what was forever lost.
The sky remained impassively gray.
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To Be Continued
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Templa Otmena: You have no idea how glad I was to hear from you again! I am grateful that you understand that I hate labeling light as good and dark as evil…they are both parts of nature after all, and the light/dark thing has a strong Christian taste to it, and I wish to keep the present worldly religion out of my writing as much as possible…the world I am trying to portray is, after all, shades of gray. Which leads me to say I am immensely happy to hear that you liked that chapter about my musings about the war. The dwindling number of reviews had me fearing that I am losing my touch, but it is good to know that you are enjoying my tale still! ;) I am once again fired up again to continue onto sequels and prequels.. hehehe. I am now wondering, how are your plans going? I am to be leaving for Korea in the middle of August, scheduled to return at Christmas time. So if I don't finish writing all of the stories I have planned out by then, I am glad to say I will pick up where I left off a few months later on! I know I am torturing poor Legolas quite a bit here, but hey, an elf learns the sorrows of the world the hard way, huh? There will be light at the end of the tunnel somewhere…;) Thank you so much for your reviews!
Unsung Heroine: Whoa whoa, I am assuming now that you are quite partial to our dear twins? Heheheh. Anyway, thank you for your patience. It is wonderful to know that you are still waiting for me to write another chapter so that I can get my lazy self to actually post what I have finished writing…har har. And I totally understand you in that part about writing snippets of this and that. Argh…it's so great that your sister is writing a novel though! I need to get around to that one of these days, hopefully before I die…har har har. Let me know when you write a screenplay; I look forward to it! ;)
Brazgirl: Yes, isn't it terrible? Oh wait, I made it that way huh. Oops. Hohohoh. Something will get better. Kinda. Maybe. Um. Yeah. Thank you for the review. Don't kill me for being mean to Thranduil! (runs away)
Elvingirl3737: I'm glad to hear you like my portrayal of the twins! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Hehe.
Coolio02: Hohoho, I wonder too. Hmm. Well, we'll see. Thank you for the review!
Bulldogodiva: Um, sorry? Har har, things will get better…hopefully. Thank you for the review!
Elf771: Wow, I'm surprised! Thank you; it's an honor to hear that you liked my other work too!
Kateydidnt: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
