Insert standard 4 AM disclaimer, but subtract all the misspellings and hallucinations that comes from working 60 hours a week and then staying up till 4 AM to write fanfic. I don't own anyone except my original characters, who are hellacool. And someone needs to slap me for staying up this late….
I also want to acknowledge publicly that Jastaelf is my muse. Without this woman talking me through this story at what seems to be a constant basis, I would never have gotten this far. I keep wondering if it's worth continuing or even trying to be a writer and she keeps encouraging me and bringing out the sickness again. She also gave me the name for the baby. I love her work with a passion, but I adore her.
And thanks to AllIwantisanelfforxmas (I hope I spelled that right, al) for looking over my rough draft and explaining prone vs. supine. Among other things. Check out her unauthorized bio of Legolas. She also does wicked beta. (note, this is unbeta'd.. .don't blame al.)
And to Treehugger for crying. I can tell that I'm writing well when she cries. Read everything of hers. Laugh. And then cry when you realize what happens to Tangliana and Brethil.
Also… Run, don't walk, to Nebride's "The Fairy Goblet". I LOVE THIS STORY!!!! And… as a plus, she updates MUCH more often than I do. Which isn't really saying much, but she does every Friday updates.
Ithilien's "The Hunting Trip" is tres scary. I actually need to go review that and al's latest chapter. But not tonite. It's 4:37 and I have children sleeping over who will be up by 6:30. EEEK.
There are so many people and stories I could mention… "Stardust Book 2" by Riki Tiki Tavi is one… uhm… but I really can't think…
The king washed his hands again. They shook violently, making bubbles on the surface of the water. The water in the basin had turned red long before, but there was still blood on his hands. The chill of the water seemed to run up his arms and into his heart.
He grabbed the bar of brown soap again and lathered up to his elbows, trying to wash away so much more than the blood of a friend.
He sighed and swallowed as he scrubbed, his skin starting to sting from the repeated washings and harsh soap. Mouth filled with the taste of bitter iron, he wondered silently. ::Is this the taste of betrayal and guilt? What could I have done to prevent this?::
He finally lifted his hands from the basin and watched as the water dripped pink from his fingers. Each drop made a deceptively merry sound as it landed back in the water from which it came, causing ripples to dance across the surface.
He turned and took the offered towel from Arnlaug, not meeting the older man's eyes. "Thank you." He kept his eyes on the fine cloth between his fingers, crumpling it between his hands, staining it with the blood that he still saw on his hands. The towel turned pink with the color of treachery.
He flinched as he saw what he had done to the previously unmarred surface of the cloth and then ineffectually tried to smooth it back to what it had been. ::I destroy everything I touch, it seems. I can't fix this and I can't fix Legolas.::
He sighed and then turned back to Arnlaug. "Thank you", he repeated, thinking this time of the older man dragging him away from Legolas' limp body, physically hauling him away so that a healer could work on the Elf.
Arnlaug merely nodded and turned to face the door that led from the king's chambers to the queen's. The heavy oaken door muffled the urgent sounds coming from behind it. Aragorn knew without looking that the healer was still working to fix the damage that Legolas had caused to himself in a fit of what he could only think of as lucid madness.
The blue eyes had been almost transparent when they had turned up to him. Royal hands shook as he fumbled with the cloth pressed to the gaping wound in the pale throat, and he could feel a pulse against his hand like the flutter of a bird's wing.
"I am shattered."
He shuddered with the horror he still felt as the words echoed in his mind. It was not the words as much as the devastation and loss in the sweet voice. It had been the sound of someone losing all hope, all desire to live. And it was because of him.
He looked down at his tunic and realized that he was covered with blood. Legolas had beaten his arms and chest, the lacerated hands leaving bloody trails behind as they flailed in a futile attempt to be free of the one who had trapped him so well. Aragorn sighed again. ::Yes, to be free of me. That's all he wanted. And I couldn't even give him that.::
He turned his back to Arnlaug and peeled the offending garment from his body and threw it across the room in frustration. No amount of bathing would make him feel clean again.
The lithe body he had just been admiring earlier that day had writhed in his arms, and then gone limp. The blonde hair he had wanted to run his fingers through had been stained red with blood and stuck to his hands and arms, a silent accusation. The blue eyes that he had admired for years had fixed on his face with horror and fear, and the rosebud lips he had desired to taste again had trembled and then shaped a plea, a cry for help.
"Ada. Ada, help me. Where are you, Ada? Don't leave me here", the melodious voice had cried in vain. Ada was not there to help. Ada was not there to still the sudden violent shaking that had then taken the slender frame in his arms. And Ada was not there to shush the panicked cries that came from increasingly bloodless and pale lips. There was only Aragorn. And Aragorn was not wanted.
He turned back to Arnlaug and gestured towards the door with his chin. "I'm going back in. I won't get in the way, but I can't bear to not be there." He grabbed yesterday's tunic from the end of his bed, automatically sniffing it to see if it was still wearable. He wrinkled his nose, considered it for a moment, shrugged, and then pulled it on over his head. It wasn't in him to care what he looked or smelled like even after years of being forcibly corralled into hygiene.
Absently trying to brush the wrinkles from the thick cloth he turned to see the Chancellor sliding around the edge of the door back into the room. He followed silently, gliding in to stand near the wall and watch the tableau spread on the floor before him.
Disa knelt by Legolas' side, holding an oil lamp over where the healer was working with a fine pair of tweezers. A quiet clink echoed in the room when the white haired man freed a shard of glass from the delicate hand held in his own and dropped it into a small clay bowl. The healer glanced up at him for a moment, his face drawn with fatigue. "My Lord", he said softly and then turned back to his task.
Disa turned to look at him, still holding the oil lamp aloft. Her face bore the silvery tracks of silent tears, but her eyes were like ice when she looked upon him. The chill spread across her face as she looked at him, first making her face freeze and then harden into a unmoving mask. After a long moment, she turned back to her work, holding the lamp higher and moving her body almost infinitesimally to stand between her king and the Elf.
He shifted his glance to Lanelese. She cradled Legolas' head in her lap, stroking the bloodstained locks and humming quietly. With her free hand she held bandages at the ready for the healer. Almost as if she felt his gaze, she turned to look at him. Her normally sweet smile was nowhere to be found. Instead she wore a worried frown. She met his eyes briefly and then looked down, as if she could not bear the sight of him.
Clotild came up behind Lanelese, carrying a basin of water and some rags. She froze when she saw him and then slowly, deliberately turned her back to him as she sank to her knees and began to gently clean the blood from the reclining body before her.
With a hard swallow, Aragorn turned to look at Arnlaug. The chancellor merely shrugged and shook his head sadly. Then the old man cleared his throat and spoke to the healer. "What think you, Nevyn? Will she be alright?"
Nevyn looked up and drew a hand across his brow. His voice was quiet but assured. "The wound on her throat looked much worse than it was. I don't think she was trying to cut her throat as much as trying to remove the collar from around her neck. It bled heavily, but it was easy to staunch and bind." He then looked down with clinical interest at the hand he held. "I don't think she did any permanent damage to her hands either. I don't see anything that I can't stitch up easily. No tendons or ligaments appear to be cut." His brow furrowed as he moved to pick out another piece of glass. The bowl clinked again, the sound making Aragorn jump.
"No stitches." Aragorn met the four pairs of eyes that stared at him. "No stitches. She's Elven. Bind the wounds tight and well, and they'll heal quickly and hopefully without scars. Stitches would only slow the process down."
The healer nodded his obedience and bent his head to his task again.
Aragorn tried to disregard the distinct chill the room took when all three women turned their backs and pointedly ignored him. While such behavior was insulting to him as a king, he certainly couldn't say that he wouldn't have done the same in their place.
The small sounds of the glass shards dropping into the bowl combined with soft sounds of Lanelese's humming stretched his nerves until he could feel them fraying. The muscles in his shoulders began to ache and twitch from the silent tension that filled the room.
After what seemed an eternity, Nevyn wrapped the slender hands in clean bandages and then indicated that they should move the Elf to the bed. Fatigue oozed from his body like a dark cloud as he wearily nodded to the king and spoke softly. "I think she should be fine, physically at least. Now we wait."
Aragorn moved forward to pick up Legolas, but found that the three women had already arranged themselves between him and the limp Elf. As one, they lifted and carried the body to the bed and continued to clean the blood from the hair and skin, keeping their bodies between him and the one he would try and touch.
He realized how cold the room was at that moment. It took everything he had not to shiver as he swallowed the bitter taste that filled his mouth again.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Blue. The world was blue. Legolas opened his eyes to find he was in a verdant forest. Trees grew to dizzying heights above his head, tops too tall even for his eyes to see. Blue sunlight filtered down between the branches far overhead.
The light trickled down and gave the world a blue tint. The shadows beneath the trees shaded into mottled tints of indigo, some dark, some light, almost as if seen from beneath water. The forest rang with birdcalls that he had never heard before, and his heart was stirred by their beauty. He suppressed the urge to run forward and see what bird had made those sounds.
Legolas blinked in the strange light and then looked down at himself. Something tugged at his consciousness. There was something wrong here but he could not remember what it was. Something was different, something had changed about him.
After a long moment of thought, he knew that there was something that he did not want to remember. It would be better if he just lived in the now, and did not try to think of the past. There was something there that frightened him and he decided that he did not want to know what it was.
Lifting his hand to shade his eyes, he blinked and turned slowly to survey the forest around him. Nothing was familiar. He lowered his hand again and his attention was drawn to his bracer.
The great tree of Greenwood was picked out in a silver tracery that shone with blue fire against the darkness of the leather. He could feel his lips turn up into a small smile. He didn't know why the sight of something so mundane pleased him, but it did.
A quick inspection revealed that he carried his bow and quiver on his back, as well as his long knives. He allowed his smile to grow wider as he turned back to the forest around him.
The trees sang to him, their song strange but still a familiar welcome. He stepped lightly through the trees, not making a sound in piles of blue leaves that covered the forest floor. The trees smelled as they should, but were somehow magnified in their scent, as if their size increased the richness of their odor.
There was no hunger or thirst in this strange world, but there was the pressure of memory. He knew not how long he walked -- be it days or weeks or even years -- but with each step his heart seemed to grow heavier. There was something he had forgotten, something that he could not remember. And he did not want to remember what it was. That was the most painful part.
-0-0-0-0-0-00-0-0-0-0-0-0
Aragorn wanted to weep whenever he saw Legolas' eyes. They were still shockingly blue, especially now in the light of the new day, but vacant and empty -- devoid of all intelligence and life. The pale chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and the heart beat on bravely, but the will to live was gone.
The small body was propped up on cushions and Clotild sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing the long silken hair free of tangles.
He leaned forward in the chair and cradled his head between his hands, and sighed deeply into the stillness of the room.
Clotild paused in her brushing and looked over to the distraught king. He had not slept at all this past night and looked it. His eyes were heavily shadowed and his hair fell down around his face, hiding it from her view. She already knew that his eyes would look haunted, and a small part of her felt a justified satisfaction at his pain. The largest part of her felt for him, though. She could see his feelings of guilt and had seen him treat the Elf with tenderness and something approaching reverence in the past months.
A hand rested on Aragorn's shoulder and he looked up into Valda's tired eyes. "Any change yet?" She sounded as tired as he felt. In her arms rested Luthiél, blue eyes bright with hunger as she chewed on her small fists.
"No. Nothing." He spoke softly, not wanting to upset the baby and start her screaming. "Why is she here?"
"Her needs still must be taken care of, My Lord." Valda sighed. "She still needs to nurse and will nurse from no one else."
He drew up his mouth into a grimace and then exhaled sharply. "Can her needs still be met?" The very nature of this practicality turned his stomach.
Valda nodded to Clotild and then answered slowly. "Up to a point. We can force broth and water down Legolas' throat so that she remains fed and watered. We can keep Luthiél nursing for as long as we can. We can hope she wakes soon." She shrugged. "Past that, who knows? But if she dies, so does Luthiél. And we can't let that to happen."
"No." Aragorn shook his head. "He's trying to die, you realize."
"I know." She bounced the baby in her arms and nodded to Clotild.
The dark haired maid began to stack pillows under one of Legolas' arms, and then gently pulled down the neckline of the nightshift. The eyes remained open and unseeing, the jaw loose and slack.
Valda climbed onto the bed and gently held the wriggling child close to Legolas' face. "Come now, wake up. Your little one wants you. Don't you smell her sweet scent? Don't you want to see her smile?"
There was no reaction as she gently wrapped her arms around the slender waist to hold the child against a full breast. There was no reaction as Luthiél latched on and began to nurse.
Valda watched as Luthiél waved her hand spasmodically, as if searching for something. She began to whimper as she ate. With a quiet sound, Clotild leaned forward and pulled a lock of blonde hair forward and into the child's hand.
The baby quieted as she stroked the hair against her face, but she was still not fully calmed. Clotild spoke quietly. "She misses her mother's voice."
Valda could only nod as she awkwardly supported the child against the motionless body.
The baby nursed on, brushing the golden hair against her face, while Legolas stared into oblivion, not hearing the whimpers of his daughter as she cried for her mother's touch.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Legolas wandered for ages it seemed, seeing no other being, hearing no other sound but the song of the trees and the birds. He saw nothing but the trees, their branches limned in varying shades of blue. ::Are there no other Elves or creatures here? I wonder where I am.::
His thoughts were broken by the sound of cold metal sliding across stone in a rhythmic pattern. The noise went sharp then dull, sharp then dull, over and over. He knew the sound by heart, having made it himself times beyond counting. ::Someone sharpens a blade. Who?:
His steps made no sound on the undergrowth as the followed the sound to a small clearing.
There sat Strider, carefully sharpening his sword, one stroke up, one stroke down. His hair fell long across his shoulders, and seemed to have a blue fire while his dark skin and stubble seemed even darker in this strange light. His clothing was worn and threadbare, patched and stitched until it seemed they were one tugged thread from falling apart. Everything about him was comforting and familiar… yet disturbing.
Legolas watched him work for a long moment and some memory tugged at his mind. ::There is something wrong here. This is an old friend. Why do I not trust him?::
He made to move silently back from the clearing and leave the Ranger when the sound of sharpening suddenly stopped. Legolas looked up to find himself pinned by the intent grey-blue stare.
"Hello, Legolas." Strider sheathed his blade and stood smoothly to walk across the clearing. His paces were as fluid as those of a mountain cat and Legolas restrained the overwhelming urge to run as far as his feet could take him from this man. The Elf could feel his brow furrow in confusion as he tried to remember what caused him such fear. ::This is my friend. He is an honorable man, a king. Why should I fear him? What has happened?::
The man stopped an arms length away from him, crossed his arms over his chest and spoke quietly. "You are lost." It was a statement of fact, not a question.
"No." Legolas found the answer leaving his lips before he could think.
Strider smiled grimly. "Yes. You have forgotten where you belong. You forget who you belong to."
Legolas swallowed hard and then frowned. "I belong to no one by myself, Strider. I belong where I choose to be." The words came out with less conviction than he intended. Something stirred in the back of his mind, some memory that made his heart leap into his throat and urged him to run. He stepped backwards, his feet overruling his mind, and his mind not objecting for once.
Swift as a striking snake, the man grabbed Legolas' wrist and hauled him forward to stand close to his strong chest. "How quickly you forget, pretty Greenleaf. You belong to me."
"What madness is this, Aragorn? How dare you touch me this way?" Anger flared in Legolas' eyes, but quickly bled away to be replaced with cold fear. His free hand reached behind to grab one of his knives, to be free of this creature, but encountered only air. He could feel his eyes grow wide as he realized he was completely unarmed. Overwhelming terror made his muscles go limp. ::How? Where are my things? Why can I not fight him?::
"I touch you any way that I wish, pretty one." The man held the wrist in an iron grip with one hand and ran his fingers down a soft cheek with the other. "You may see yourself one way, but I see you differently. Very differently. I always have."
Something stirred in the back of Legolas' mind, a memory. He ruthlessly pushed it back, not wanting to remember what Strider was speaking of. His eyes closed against the rush of memory and a shudder wracked his body as the hand touched him in a strangely familiar way. "Who are you? You not Strider." His voice sounded weak to his own ears.
"Why don't you open your eyes and see for yourself?" The voice had changed its tone, becoming musical and sweet instead dark and gruff.
"What will I see?" His voice shook with some emotion beyond fear, beyond terror. Something unnamable that made his heart thud in his ears.
"You will see the truth. Isn't that what you want?" Now the voice was gently mocking.
His breath hitched as he pressed his eyelids together so tightly he saw red. "No."
"The truth remains even when you do not wish to admit it, my friend", the voice admonished. "Open your eyes and let us finish this."
"No", he sobbed. But his eyes slowly opened and he looked upon the one who held his arm in a viselike grip.
He could feel tears burn his eyes as he looked upon himself.
The woman before him was everything he was, but not. Her hair glowed in the strange blue light, but he knew it would be the color of ripe wheat set to dry in the sun. Her eyes were as piercing as his own, because they were his own. And her smile was mocking and sad at the same time, a smile he had seen on his own face in the mirror countless times.
A gasp escaped his lips as he shook his head. "No. You were trapped in the glass."
"Yes." She smiled even more sweetly. "You freed me from the mirror with your own hands."
"No" he repeated. "This is not real. You are not real. None of this is real."
The hand around his wrist tightened slightly and then loosened. "I am you, you realize. I may even be more real than you are at this point." She paused and then tossed her hair. "Look at us. Are we not beautiful?"
He looked at her again, his eyes seeing her as he had for the past year, not as himself but as a separate entity. His voice was quiet when he finally answered. "You are very beautiful."
An even sweeter smile met his words. "Yes, WE are beautiful, aren't WE? How can you blame him for wanting to possess such beauty? To possess US? How could any man not want this?" She drew a hand languidly down her torso and then brushed up his chest with her fingertips. "You cannot spend forever hating him. It will consume our soul and make us fade. I will not let you do that."
Legolas twisted his arm and tried to break her grip on his wrist. She merely smiled and held tight to him. "You are cruel." He knew he sounded petulant, but didn't care.
She laughed, but there was no mirth in it. "I'm cruel? I am not the one that refuses to feel for a child of my own body and considered letting it starve for my own selfishness. I am not the one that would leave that same child to the mercy of the less than honorable humans in that court while I left for Valinor. I am not the one that rejects half of what I am out of hand." She leaned closer to him and whispered, "We are the same. Accept this. Accept that I am the one who is real, and you are the one in the looking glass."
"NO!" His denial echoed and shocked the trees from their song.
Silence surrounded them as the woman frowned and then released his arm. "I will not give up. As long as I am free, I will not give up. I am as strong and stubborn as you because I am you."
Her laughter followed him from the clearing as he ran, feet again making no sound.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-00--
It had been two days since Aragorn had slept. He had tried to sleep the first night but found his mind whirling with guilt and questions. He found little solace in sitting up and keeping watch over Legolas. The Elf looked so small in the bed, so helpless and pale, that the king was overwhelmed with the need to do something, do anything.
He helped Lanelese wash the blood from the fine golden hair, even when the maid insisted that she needed no assistance. She was unable to order him not to help, after all. Then he sat and watched as Clotild combed the long hair out to dry, and built up the fire so that the room was not as cold. He moved a brazier closer to the bed, but not too close. He supervised the menservants when they removed the broken mirror and frame from the room, making sure that not even the slightest shard of glass was left to cause any more injury. He kept busy as only a man of action could. He drove everyone else insane in the process.
The sun came up and he held Luthiél, rocking her gently while she fretted. He could only shake his head as he watched Valda feed the body that once held his friend. Even his daughter's smile could not piece the gloom in his heart.
The next night he spent sitting on the bed, singing softly. He sang every song he knew, holding a bandaged hand and looking into the blue eyes for a reaction, recognition, anything. There was nothing.
Disa glared at him from across the room, the frost of her gaze making the room even colder, but he still sang until his throat went dry.
The sun rose again and found the world strange in its normalcy. The floor had been sanded and scrubbed until there was no trace of blood to be seen. The broken mirror had been taken away and the broken furniture replaced. Legolas had been cleaned and bandaged and was healing before his eyes.
Lanelese had put the Elf's long hair into several plaits and arranged them with a pair of copper clasps. Synan had gifted Legolas many things after Luthiél's birth, including bolts of rich fabric and a case of honeyed dates. The hair clasps had been the things that Legolas had liked the most, strangely enough. They had been intricately worked into the shape of butterflies with inset designs in different enamels. The colors were rich and vibrant, like nothing he had ever seen before.
Perhaps Lanelese thought that their brightness might attract the Elf's gaze while she fiddled with his hair. Perhaps Clotild thought that dressing Legolas in a dress of royal blue and white would make him rebel against the indignity and demand leggings and a tunic. Perhaps Valda thought that putting cold jewelry on the still body would shock the Elf into consciousness with their bitter touch against his warm skin.
However, to Aragorn, it looked as if they were dressing a doll. A broken doll with empty blue eyes that saw nothing.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0—0-
Legolas ran. He already knew that it would be futile to look back and see if she followed, so he did not. He simply ran.
The trees had been silent for a long time, but then tentatively took up their song again, slowly becoming louder and stronger. He didn't notice the new melody until it began to overpower the first song.
Almost on instinct he slowed to a walk, and then followed the new song.
Finally, he emerged into a clearing. The trees were immeasurably tall all around, their leaves breaking the blue sunlight into shade and shadow that danced across the grass that shone with sapphire dewdrops. The meadow had been tramped down into a circle, and there sat a group of elves in the sunlight that lit their faces and hair with an ethereal blue glow.
He recognized some of the faces as friends and acquaintances from his own home of Greenwood, but he only had eyes for a figure that sat on a carved throne at the side of the circle. "Ada." The word fell from his lips, a sob of joy.
Thranduil turned towards his son. The blue light had changed his golden hair to an almost green color, and the garland of spring flowers in his hair shone, the white blooms gleaming with a blue white intensity and the leaves almost cobalt in their darkness.
Feet barely touching the ground, Legolas ran across the clearing to fall to his knees before his father. "Ada", he gasped, "I can barely breathe, I'm so happy to see you." He bent forward and rested his head on his father's lap, and allowed the tears that he had been holding for so long to fall. He wept as his father's strong hand stroked his hair and the Elves around them sang on, never missing a note.
After what seemed to be an eternity but what may have been merely seconds, he raised his head and looked at his father. "Ada," he tried to speak around the lump in his throat, "I thought I would never see you again."
Thranduil's eyes flashed, their blue even more haunting in the strange light from above. "Come now, little Greenleaf, did you think that I would abandon you?"
Legolas shook his head. "No, but I thought that I was beyond your reach."
The Elf king shook his head and then stood, bringing his son to stand with him. "I will never desert you, little Greenleaf. Even if you think that all is lost, I will be there with you."
The king gently embraced his son and then held him back at arms length to look deeply into the blue eyes that were so much like his own. "You have forgotten something, my son. Something very important."
Legolas closed his eyes, unable to meet the gaze. "I've forgotten nothing, Ada." He knew his voice shook as he spoke.
A child's wail lifted on the wind, and for the first time the singers faltered in their song.
Legolas opened his eyes and looked at his father. "I have forgotten nothing."
His father raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. The wailing grew louder, more desperate. Legolas looked over his shoulder to see if he could tell where the noise was coming from, but it came from all directions.
The prince turned back to his father. "I am home. I am with you. I don't want to go back there." Desperation filled his voice. "I don't want to remember. Please don't make me remember."
Thranduil grasped one of his son's wrists in a firm grip and then turned it so Legolas could see. The great Tree of Greenwood was gone from his bracer and in its place shone the white tree of Gondor. The intensity of whiteness was so bright that it branded itself on the back of Legolas' eyelids when the closed his eyes and wrenched his head away. "You are still bound, my son." There was a heavy sadness in Thranduil's voice.
"NO!" Legolas tried to rip his arm away from the steel grip that held it in front of his eyes for the truth to be seen.
The king opened his hand slowly and allowed his son to withdraw his hand and then spoke again, his words weighed with the sorrow of ages. "I told you not to trust the mortals. They lust for that which they cannot have, be it riches, wisdom, or beauty. And sometimes they will succeed in getting what they want, even if for a short time." The King leaned forward and touched his son's cheek. "But I cannot blame you for wanting to be close to them and feel the heat of their fire. It burns so hot, even if only for a short while. It is seductive in its own way."
The young, yet ancient face seemed to fold in upon itself in sadness for a moment and Legolas realized for the first time how very old his father was. The wailing grew louder. "Have you truly forgotten nothing, my son, or is it simply that you don't want to remember?"
A low moan escaped Legolas' lips as he shook his head.
The Elf king put his hands in a firm grip on his son's shoulders. "Remember this. My love for you is as eternal as we are. No matter what is done to you, I remain as constant as the stars above. That is the love I have for all my children, as any parent should." He then pulled his son into another embrace.
Legolas finally spoke, his voice small against his father's chest. "I have forgotten something of great importance, Ada. I must go back." The voice was empty. "I don't want to, but I must."
Thranduil nodded in approval and touched his son's cheek. "Yes. I did not teach my son to leave behind the helpless or abandon his kin." The strong hand then patted Legolas' shoulder and the king spoke again. "You will be back with us soon enough, son. We are eternal, after all. The one who holds you is not."
Legolas nodded and listened to the singers again, their song swelling around them. And through their song the wailing of a small child wove in and out, her cries now part of what they made in the blue world that they inhabited.
The light began to change and strange voices began to wind themselves into the song, and then overpower it. They at first came from far away and were gibberish, but then began to coalesce into words he knew. And above them all was the howl of a child.
Aragorn's voice shocked him when it came from next to his ear. "And what would you have me do, Disa? Pretend that this didn't happen? I can't do that. I have to do something."
"Haven't you done enough already?" Disa's hiss came from his other side. "None of this would have happened if it weren't for you, my lord." Legolas felt his lip twitch. Disa always remembered exactly what a person's station was and always used the proper modicum of address as required by precedence. She was using the bare minimum right now. That, for her, was a deadly insult.
There was a sigh from Aragorn, and then the feeling of a hand gently brushing his shoulder and touching his neck.
Disa continued, venom in her voice. Legolas was glad it wasn't aimed at him this time. "Are you already thinking how easy it would be to get her with child while she's like this? She can't argue with you. No tears, no fighting. Just what you need, a witless woman to bear your children."
Legolas could feel Aragorn tense up at the insult. "If that were what I wanted, I would have already been married to you, Disa." The voice carried frost.
There was a gasp of anger from the girl and then a gurgle from that which she carried. :: Luthiel. She has Luthiél. That is what I had forgotten :: He could hear the girl huff and then walk from the room.
The light grew brighter and he blinked against it. And then he blinked again.
There was silence in the room as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the brightness he found there. Another blink cleared his vision and he realized that what he normally would think was pallid sunlight almost made his eyes water with its brilliance.
He turned his head to the left and found a pair of grey eyes boring into his own.
"You came back." Aragorn's spoke in barely a whisper. "You were fading, but you came back."
Nodding, Legolas spoke, his voice rough. "I forgot something important."
The man's eyes lit up with joy, and then a pair of arms wrapped him into an unwanted embrace. Lips found their way to his forehead and pressed a firm kiss there. Stubble scratched at the sensitive skin.
The Elf yelped and then shoved against the man as hard as he could. A sharp punch to the stomach followed, and then another shove sent the king sliding off the bed to land on the cold, hard floor with a grunt of pain.
Legolas crawled to the other side of the bed and looked out into the room. The chair he had destroyed had been replaced; the table, replaced. Where the mirror had stood there was nothing. An empty wall taunted him.
He raised his hands to his face, and then to touch his forehead where he still tingled from Aragorn's lips. The sensation was odd but not unpleasant. ::She is free, and she wants to be real. I can already feel her in my skin. I will not let her win this game..::
He turned back to where Aragorn was struggling to his feet. "I need the mirror back. Please. I need it back."
The king straightened, and then shook his head. "No." There was a note of finality in his voice. "I can't trust you."
Legolas turned back to where the mirror had been and wrapped his arms around his chest against the cold. ::She is free and she will not give up. How long can I fight her?::