Chapter Nine: Victim of the Game
Night had well and truly fallen by the time they rode back into the palace. Both Haldir and Legolas hurried across the bridge as the doors of the stone gate clanged to behind them. The young prince stood in the Great Hall, his mind churning with what he had just witnessed. He looked up at the elf beside him and smiled slightly, suddenly shy and unsure of what to say. He swallowed and unstuck his shocked vocal chords.
"Thank you." The older elf bowed his head with a smile which quickly turned to an abashed one as his gaze caught the eye of Cálivien standing in the shadows with his arms crossed. The silver-haired elf walked with slow deliberateness towards them and the other two elves twitched uncomfortably at the expression on his face. Haldir would almost rather have faced the wolves again.
"Where have you been?" Cálivien asked, his eyes flashing. "You were sent here to-" He stopped mid-harangue as he caught sight of the red stain spreading across his friend's sleeve.
"What happened to you?" he demanded.
Haldir managed only a deep sigh and a wince as he glanced sheepishly down at Legolas. Feeling the ground jolt sickeningly underneath his feet, he swayed heavily, catching onto the first thing he could seize to keep his balance which happened to be Legolas' shoulder.
The young prince glanced up in sudden alarm as he noticed that the older elf's entire sleeve was soaked with blood now- he had not detected it in the darkness but could see it clearly now in the light of the torches. He thought it had been like Lóthmir's wound- superficial at most.
Cálivien immediately seized his friend's uninjured arm, concern breaking through the irritation on his handsome features.
"Come on," he said shortly. He shot a glance down at the young elf who stood undecided and anxious.
"Go on, ernil neth (young prince)," the silver-haired elf reassured him with a smile. "He'll be all right- we'll see you tomorrow."
Legolas could only nod as Cálivien led Haldir away. His brow furrowed in consternation as he walked slowly back across the Great Hall towards his chambers. He suddenly realized that he still held Haldir's bloody knife in his hand and hastily wiped it on his tunic and sheathed it in his belt. Not quite sure what he should do with it, he resolved to return it to the other elf tomorrow.
All of a moment, he remembered that he would most likely be in trouble with his father for skipping his lessons and not telling anyone where he was going the entire day. He had broken his father's rule too- he had been much further outside the palace than he had been allowed. But, he had also been with Haldir and, perhaps, Thranduil would not punish him for that- if he didn't tell him about the wolves they'd run into. Thinking of his father reminded Legolas that he ought to tell him about what he had heard and seen last night and he, forcing back his fear of punishment, hurried down the corridor.
The young prince walked determinedly along the hallway in search of his father and glanced into a small meeting chamber with high bay windows. He stopped abruptly as tense as a rabbit that had scented the hounds.
Ainan stood with his back to the prince, staring out the darkened windows with his hands clasped in a thoughtful posture behind his back.
The prince moved backwards slowly, praying to edge out without being noticed.
It was not to be.
"Legolas, a word," his uncle entreated without turning. Legolas kept his face carefully blank though disappointment and sudden fear spread slowly through him as well as puzzlement. His uncle confused him at the best of times and Legolas wondered what he had in store for him now.
"A dangerous company, the Lórien elves," Ainan remarked softly without preamble. Hesitatingly, Legolas shot a glance up at his uncle, staring out the window and wondered if he knew of the prince's afternoon with Haldir. But seeing that the older elf seemed rather pensive and more inclined towards talk than punishment tonight, Legolas answered.
"Dangerous, Vedhir?" Ainan sighed deeply as though he thought his nephew simple.
"Their Queen is wicked," he explained. "So very beautiful- but so very terrible. A Noldorin Lady of great power, a Kinslayer of long ago." Legolas sucked in a sharp breath of surprise; he had not known any yet still lived on these shores. "Those who travel to her sorcerous lands do not return unscathed, if they escape at all." Legolas frowned, wondering if such a thing were true.
"Father said they were on a diplomatic mission," Legolas declared faithfully.
"Don't be a fool!" Ainan scoffed scornfully. "They seek an audience with your father- not to treaty with him but to ascertain the best method to get him out of the way."
"Power is an intoxicating and glorious tool, Legolas," Ainan said quietly, his silver-blue eyes flickering red as he lit a torch standing in a bracket beside him to irradiate the dark emptiness around them. "And some will do anything to seize it." The young prince did not see the gleam in his uncle's eyes as he spoke.
"Why else would an elite guard of Lothórien spend his time walking in the gardens with a worthless whelp like you? Power." Legolas wondered what that meant but he was relieved that his uncle apparently had no reason to punish him today. He looked up as Ainan continued.
"Be careful of such ones, Legolas, for your deadliest enemies are most often those in the guise of a friend." Legolas remembered the steely look on Haldir's face and the deadly precision with which he had cut down the wolves. How much did he really know about his friend? Legolas bit his lip, trying not to let his uncle's honeyed words influence him. But then those silver-blue eyes locked onto his and Legolas hastily looked at the ground as Ainan spoke again.
"That elf- from Lothlórien. Stay far away from him, nephew mine." He gave Legolas' arm a painful tweak. "He will only get you into trouble." Legolas nodded weakly, his eyes watering from the pressure his uncle was placing on his arm.
"Why, Vedhir?" Ainan suddenly struck him across the face with supreme indifference. Legolas' head snapped to one side and he felt tears unwillingly fill his eyes from the pain.
"Do not question me, boy!" Ainan hissed, his hand still raised all pretenses of affability shredded. His eyes narrowed and he darted forward, seizing the young prince by the upper arms and jerking him up almost on his tiptoes.
"Look at me," he commanded. Legolas tried but was too afraid. His uncle shook him like a rag doll. "Look at me, Legolas!" The young prince looked straight up into the older elf's burning eyes, ashamed of the tears spilling down his cheeks.
"Tears, little prince?" Ainan laughed scornfully as he threw the young boy away from him. Legolas stumbled and collapsed against the armchair, wiping frantically at his eyes as he struggled to calm his breathing. His heaving breaths caught around a sob in his throat and he choked. Ainan watched calmly, his eyes slowly darkening with a vengeful flame the prince knew all too well.
Something had set his uncle off. And now his nephew would pay for it in his own blood and tears. In two strides, the older elf had crossed the room and seized the younger elf by the collar, wrenching him around to face him.
"I thought I told you tears were for weaklings, Legolas. I thought I taught you better than that. Perhaps not…"
"Vedhir," Legolas entreated. "I-" But, Ainan wasn't listening to him- he never listened to him. Not when Legolas pleaded or cried though he would strike the poor boy harder if he did. Ainan didn't care.
A sharp rap on the door startled both of them and Ainan looked up sharply.
The door creaked and Ainan released Legolas so quickly that the prince staggered backwards, striking the small of his back on a corner of the wooden table in the middle of the room. He rubbed the sore spot as Telas peered in. The advisor stopped short as he saw Ainan. The Regent raised an eyebrow bad-temperedly and slanted a quick look sideways at Legolas who hastily smoothed his hair back and wiped his face free of tears.
"Well, what is it, councilor?" Thranduil's advisor straightened and met the other elf's irritated gaze squarely.
"The King Thranduil wishes to speak to his son, hir-nin (my lord). I was sent to fetch him." Ainan's eyes narrowed slightly but he nodded down at the prince and gestured towards the door with a false smile on his narrow face.
"Very well. Legolas. We shall continue our lessons then later. We cannot keep the King waiting can we?" He smiled with deliberate contumely. "Do not forget you are due in the cellars tomorrow night." Telas frowned from the doorway as Legolas paused a moment then, at Telas' urging, allowed himself to be ushered out the door, puzzled but relieved.
"What does my father want to speak to me about, Telas?" Legolas asked, bemused by the older elf's nervousness.
"That was a mere ruse, Legolas," Telas said softly, glancing over his shoulder. But the halls around them were empty. The usually stuffy elf looked oddly grave as he turned to the young prince, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Is… is there anything… you want to tell me, Legolas?" Legolas felt his heart clench suddenly. Did Telas suspect…? He glanced up at his father's councilor.
Part of him longed to tell- to have this terrible burden lifted from his young shoulders. It was a weight he was loath to bear any longer. But, his fear returned with his anxiety of what might happen if he opened his mouth after his uncle had frightened and intimidated him into silence so many times before. He had been warned of the consequences of revealing his secret to anyone.
"No," he said at last. "There is nothing, Telas." The older elf seemed somewhat disappointed but he nodded slowly.
"All right," he said quietly. "Go on and play, Legolas. I-I shall see you later." The young prince nodded mutely, not seeing the concerned look the councilor gave him as he disappeared around the corner.
But Telas mentioning his father reminded Legolas that he did in fact need to speak with him so he hurried to the King's study. He peered in to see Thranduil perusing a thick tome. The young prince started to speak but closed it at the last moment as fear shut his mouth.
His father had company. Sitting in a high-backed chair across from the King's desk was a tall, stately elven woman of inexpressible beauty. Her long river of dark hair fell to her narrow waist and her blue velvet robes shone with mithril stars cleverly entwined with the fabric so that every time she moved, she sparkled like the firmament on a clear night. Her voice was low and rich, a smooth, velvety tone worthy of high elves. Legolas paused diffidently as the woman's eyes swung to pierce his as though she had known him to be there all along.
Thranduil noted his guest's preoccupation and turned to his son.
"What is it, ion-nin (my son)?" the King asked. Legolas remained in the doorway, his eyes flickering from his father to the stately woman in the winged chair. He recognized Nárvenien's mother though not by name for she had the same almond shaped bright green eyes of her daughter.
And the same malevolent stare.
Legolas swallowed, feeling suddenly awkward and uneasy under those eyes.
"I'm sorry, Ada. I thought you were alone, I-"
But Thranduil beckoned his son in.
"Just a moment, Eraeriel," he said to the woman as he turned to his son. He leaned in close.
"What is it, Legolas?" The prince spoke in a low voice as though he didn't want the woman to overhear.
"What is that room off the great hall for, Ada- the dark one with all the dust and spider webs?" he forced out at last from a suddenly parched throat. Thranduil frowned in puzzlement.
"What door is this, ion-nin?"
"The door off the eastern end of the Great Hall- it is very small and low-ceilinged. There are many portraits in it."
"Portraits?" Thranduil shook his head, a slight smile lifting his lips as though he thought his son was pulling his leg. "Really, Legolas I have not time for such games, now. I'm rather occupied at the moment. I shall speak to you at dinner."
"Ada- I just- it was there and I didn't remember ever seeing it before. There were all of these things in it," the young prince blurted out, wanting to make his father believe him.
"Surely the King has more pressing matters to deal with than mystical doors," Eraeriel interjected with a smile. Legolas glanced at her uneasily, swiftly hiding the rush of anger he felt for the woman though his ear tips burned red.
Thranduil was rapidly losing his patience.
"My son," he said sternly. "This is not a time for games. I am in the middle of-"
It was unwise to interrupt the King but Legolas did.
"I'm not lying, Ada!" he burst out angrily. "I know what I saw!"
"Enough!" The King snapped and Legolas fell silent. Eraerial smiled as though she knew something he did not.
"I shall speak to you of this later, Legolas. Go. Now." Thranduil commanded dismissively, waving towards the door. His voice brooked for no argument. Bowing stiffly with clenched teeth, Legolas spun on his heel and disappeared out the door. Thranduil realized, perhaps, that he might have been too brusque and his face softened in apology. He half-rose to call his son back and he glanced out into the corridor but Legolas had vanished as quickly as the light of a snuffed candle.
"Children," Legolas heard Eraeriel murmur laughingly as he slipped down the passageway, burning with humiliation and shame. He should never have said anything! Now his father thought him a fool!
But, Legolas paced quickly down the hall. He knew that door was there even if others would not believe him and he leapt nimbly down the long, marble stairs, determined to prove to his father that he was not lying. He trotted swiftly through the vast pillared columns of the Great Hall and out the eastern door he had left the night of the feast. He stopped before the place he had thought he had seen the door last and frowned deeply as he ran his hands over the smooth stone.
The door was gone as though it had never been.
He frowned in puzzlement and his ears pricked up as he heard a voice speaking softly, almost tearfully but Legolas was too far away to hear the words. He followed the sound of the voices and stopped before a great oaken door that led into the library not far from the hidden door. He tried the handle but, oddly enough, it was locked.
That was unusual.
The library was never locked.
Wondering if he was going against his better judgment, he pressed his ear to the door and listened. Legolas could hear his mother's voice inside and peered through the slit in the door. The prince recoiled as he recognized his uncle's slender frame within. I should not stay, he thought already walking away from the door but hearing his own name within made him stop and turn, pressing his eye to the small crack again. The voices were muffled through the thick wood but clear to the young elf's keen ears.
"Legolas has been missing his lessons. I worry for him," Anariel said softly as she cradled her elbows in her cupped hands. Ainan merely shook his head, his angular face half-shadowed in the dim light cast by the lantern on the table.
"He is young, Anariel. He does not understand the need for a strict schedule," he
said smoothly. The Queen nodded.
"I suppose you're right. I just wish Thranduil would-" Legolas saw his uncle's face tighten at the mention of his father's name.
"The punishment is fit for the little prince," Ainan interrupted. "He needs to know that the entire world does not revolve around him and he is expected to conduct himself as royalty should- not to go gallivanting in the forest and wrestling with females. You coddle him too much, sister. Legolas must grow up and learn that there are responsibilities to be being a prince." Anariel looked up at her brother, knowing he was right. Her suspicions had softened over the years that her brother had been here but her worry remained as she thought of her little son and how thin and quiet he had become.
Legolas hung his head, feeling guilty that he had made his mother worry about him. If only he had obeyed his uncle perhaps he would have made it to his lessons on time. But did his mother know how his uncle treated him?
'The punishment is fit…' Maybe his uncle had even been given permission to beat him! Perhaps, his parents were so disappointed- they wanted… Legolas mercifully ended that train of thought with a shake of his head. It couldn't be… The prince froze as the voices grew suddenly louder.
"Open your eyes, Anariel!"
Legolas shot a quick glance up and down the hall to make sure no one was within earshot. But the halls around him were empty and silent as he pressed his eye to the keyhole. He had missed the last comment from his mother but it seemed to have angered his uncle.
"Your dearly devoted husband is up to his neck in trouble- you know that," Ainan asserted softly.
"And you do not help matters!" his sister retorted sharply. Ainan continued as though he had not heard her.
"He does not care what happens to Legolas- so concerned is he with his beloved realm that is falling apart under his very nose. And yet, he is still too blind to see it." Legolas pressed his ear even closer to the door, struggling to hear every word.
"That is not true." His mother's voice grew quietly furious. "You know that is not true. Thranduil loves Legolas dearly and has ruled his kingdom for well over two and a half thousand years."
"His kingdom," Ainan echoed softly, dangerously.
"Yes, his-" Anariel paused suddenly and Legolas listened in breathless fear and anticipation. Ainan's voice slid through the cracks in the door like oil, slippery and foul, unmasked contempt dripping in his tone.
"But of course, Anariel. You were always blind to what happened behind closed doors." Their voices fell into hissing whispers that even Legolas' keen ears could not catch and he heard nothing more for several long moments.
"Why do you speak of this now?" He heard his mother gasp. Legolas could almost imagine his uncle waving his hand to dismiss the subject- as he had seen his mother do when she did not wish to discuss some hard truth further.
Another silence.
Legolas thought he heard a noise from within but missed the softly spoken words until his mother's voice rose again in an emotional lilt that did not sound like her at all.
"If you were half the king Father-"
The sharp slap of flesh striking flesh made Legolas jump and his face whitened as he slid down the door to sprawl at its foot, his knees tucked up to his chin as though he were the one who had been struck. His mother suffered under his uncle's hand too?
Anariel made no sound.
"I will not be spoken to like that," Ainan said, his voice deceptively calm. "You know better, little sister. The lessons I taught you when we were in youth should have sufficed to remind you of that." Legolas leaned against the door, straining to hear his mother's reply.
But none came.
"I will need the library to myself tonight- none others are to enter," Ainan's voice came again- closer now than before as though he were heading towards the door. "Even you, little sister." Legolas panicked as he heard a key insert itself into the lock and the door opened a crack to reveal his uncle's back as he stared back into the library.
"Royalty before family, muinthel (sister)?" He laughed when no reply came from within.
The prince scrambled up as quickly as he could and darted down the hall, scrunching himself into a small alcove a little ways down the corridor. He waited for a breathless moment until he ventured to peek out around the corner.
Ainan was gone.
Hesitantly, the prince peered into the library, his blue eyes shining with sorrow as he beheld his mother, a hand to her reddening cheek, seated on one of the plush red chairs adorning the vast library. A single tear slid down her face before she caught sight of him and hastily swiped it away, favoring him with a watery smile as she beckoned him to her side.
He came dutifully and hugged her, trying not to wince as she pressed on the still-unhealed welts on his back.
"Is Vedhir cruel to you, Naneth (Mother)?" he asked tentatively. She gazed down at the top of his golden head, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Were you listening, my little Greenleaf?" she asked in return, the note of a reprimand in her voice.
"A little," he answered truthfully. He could never lie to her. Not to her. He looked up into his mother's face, unwilling to believe that she would ever want his uncle to hurt him. And yet…
"Did he hurt you?" he asked with all the candidness of a child. She smiled- but it looked somewhat forced on her beautiful face as she absentmindedly stroked his hair.
"No, my little one. Do not trouble yourself with such things." She examined his flushed face a little more closely and her mother's intuition tingled.
"Is something wrong, my dear one?" she asked quietly as she embraced him again. He opened his mouth but a respectful tap on the library door interrupted him and both looked up. Serkë stood in the doorway, his youthful face hesitant.
"Excuse me, Your Majesty, I-" Anariel smiled at the awkward bow the younger elf gave and beckoned him in.
"Please, Serkë. I have known you and your father for years- there is no need for such formality. What is it you need?" Serkë lifted his eyes apologetically to the Queen.
"My pardons, my Lady, but have you seen my father?" Anariel frowned. That was odd. Rarely had the King's councilor ever left the King's side.
"I have not."
Legolas slid from his mother's embrace, his heart sinking in his chest. He had seen Telas that very afternoon- not more than an hour ago. What had happened to him? The young prince brushed it away with a more concerned thought. If his mother did not speak of his uncle's treatment of her, perhaps it was not uncommon- maybe even acceptable as his usual temperament.
Legolas sighed deeply, feeling weary and terribly drained. He bid goodnight to his mother and Serkë and walked slowly back to his chambers, relieved when the only occupant was the fire in the grate that a servant had been kind enough to light. He curled up in the armchair without a glance at the closed bedroom door at his back and drifted into an uneasy slumber.
