Title: Buried II: Revelation

/thoughts/

Chap. 2 - Blood Brother

Legolas walked to the place where Estel stared up at the sky. The deep black backdrop was blazing with diamonds. On the way to Mirkwood the two had sat together in perfect amity as he told Estel the old tales of the stars or Estel told him creative new ones. Now a gulf lay between them. There had been no argument, no acts of thoughtlessness. Only delusions that cleared away like morning mist when looked at directly, but snuck back to torment the fringes of waking and sleeping thought.

Legolas sat down on the ground close to the boy. He said nothing, waiting for Estel to find the right time and way to begin. He waited a long time with the patience of the Quendi. Finally, the boy spoke.

"I am sorry I am troubling you. I cannot seem to help it."

"You are no trouble to me. I will listen to whatever you wish to say. Speak your heart and ease it."

After an even longer time, a whisper sounded in the night. "Do you love me?"

"You know that I do."

A sigh, soft and desolate: "Not as I once did."

"Say what I must do to convince you and it is done."

Estel did not answer the elf but began instead to speak of the fears that had hampered his full recovery. Legolas held his breath. He begged his heart not to beat and asked the stars to stop wheeling in their courses; for this was what he, Elrond, and Glorfindel had prayed for ever since the boy had survived the crisis of his illness. Although it had been obvious he had had hallucinations concerning his family and friends, until now he had refused to tell anyone exactly what the 'others' had said to him.

"It is hard to remember clearly. I have only pieces, here and there…but suddenly, when I am not thinking of it at all, I will hear one of the voices. There were two of you, did you know that? One was kind; the Legolas I have always known…the other… the other…he was…" He stopped, his voice tight; it was so hard to speak of it. For what if, in spite of all their assurances, the hurtful things said to him were true? But at some point he must put these fears to the test or he would never know peace again.

Legolas waited, his entire being silently urging his friend to continue. After another long while the boy went on, his voice shaking and barely audible, even to the elf.

"The other one, the other Legolas, he said….he said that when I was younger it was necessary that I believe I was loved, or I would not have survived. Then he said those days were over and he need not pretend any longer and that I was too old for fairy stories…He said you all pretended."

Legolas no longer held his breath. It had been stolen away by the devastating revelation. It took him some moments to still his disturbed thoughts and to be able to speak quietly and evenly. "Your brothers, you called out to them when you roved in your nightmares. Did they say the same? And Elrond?"

"No. My brothers said that they would scrub my stench from Imladris when I died and that they would have forgotten me before my grave was green. I cannot…I still cannot say what Ada told me."

/My poor Estel! We knew you were wounded by your wanderings in delirium but we never imagined anything like this/ With great effort the elf kept his emotions from his voice, "Do you believe what they told you? What it seemed we told you?"

"Not when I look at things squarely. But it seems as though these thoughts nibble away at my heart. Because you are all so very kind. You help anyone who needs it. I have seen it a thousand times. If you were forced to care for an orphan you could not love, you would pretend, in order to make his life as happy as may be. As you have made mine…" His voice trailed away.

Legolas marshaled his thoughts, trying to think of the best way to convince the boy. "It is true none in need are turned away from your home. Your family's kindness is well-known by all who have ever called upon them. But listen to me: I have known many fosterlings in Imladris. Most have been fostered according to the old ways, for training and the advantages in state-craft and learning only Imladris can provide. For protection of your line, as well, when the times began to be evil again. And some purely for charity's sake. I have seen them in your halls and their well-being has been of prime importance to the household. But never have I seen Elrond take them into his heart as he has you. He has been a friend, a good one, to all your line, but to none but you has he said, 'ion-nin'"

Legolas stopped speaking to let Estel think a little on his words. He raised his face and let the light of the stars wash over him. After a time it seemed they told him what he might do to help Estel banish the voices that continued to torment him.

Legolas gracefully moved so that he was still sitting but now faced Estel. He took one of the boy's wrists, turned it facing upward, and with his other hand drew a delicate touch across the palm. The fingers involuntarily curved into a shallow cup.

"Hold your hand like so. Now observe carefully: you must try to understand." Legolas released the wrist. He then deftly removed the vambrace from his left arm and pulled the sleeve of his tunic up to the elbow. He next drew his belt knife. The beautiful engraved blade seemed to draw a spark from the star-light. He held the bared forearm up and with his other hand, slowly drew the point of the knife downward in a vertical cut parallel with his arm, below his wrist. Blood welled up behind the blade. His eyes narrowed and his breath quickened, but he otherwise gave no outward sign of pain. Estel gasped and quickly moved to stop the mutilation. Legolas raised arm and blade out of his reach.

"Stop! Hold your hand as I showed you. All is well, Estel."

Estel held his shaking hand out as Legolas had placed it. The knife bit deeper and Estel whispered, "What are you doing? Please, Legolas, your pain will not heal mine!"

The moonless night was so dark that even in the elven glow the blood which flowed was nearly black. Legolas pressed the blade yet again to ensure the flow was fast enough and then held his forearm above Estel's cupped hand. The boy flinched as the first warm drops hit it. The cupped palm slowly filled and then began to overflow. Estel's wide and frightened eyes sought those of his friend pleadingly.

"I do not understand. Why are you doing this? Legolas, this is madness!"

"You must try to understand. Then, healer, you may staunch the wound. What is in your hand?"

"Your blood! Legolas, please! Stop this!"

"What do you know, Estel?"

Estel looked at his friend's implacable face and then at the dark liquid that overflowed his hand. Legolas was not one for dramatics; he usually maintained the serenity of the elves, even under the stress of living in Mirkwood. Legolas was not doing this to shock him or frighten him. He had a purpose. Estel had to discover it, and quickly. While the elf could lose a lot of blood before he was in any danger, there was a limit. Estel wanted to call for help, yet he knew this was between the two of them alone. The boy tried desperately to think.

What was blood? It kept the body alive. It was the seat of life. It was life. He stared at the blood as it flowed from his friend to his hand. His friend's life; in his hand! He looked into the eyes that bid him to find the answer that would drive the doubts and fears that tormented him away. He looked again at the flowing life for long minutes and then slowly smiled. He knew. The persistent voice of the 'other' Legolas finally faded and vanished. The persistent voice of this Legolas prompted him again.

"What do you know?"

Estel held his cupped hand a little higher. "This is mine. Your life is mine, if I should have need of it. You give it freely. It is of more worth than the gold of the Tree but you waste it upon the ground for my sake. You do not offer it to a future king but to a boy named Estel."

Legolas nodded. "What else do you know?"

"That you love me. That you are in truth gwador-nin. I beg your forgiveness that I ever doubted."

"There is naught to forgive. You went through a trial that would have taken the sanity of many that are older and more experienced than you. That you came away from it with only fears and uncertainties is a sign of your strength, Estel. I have one thing yet to say to you. Will you listen with your heart as well as your ears?"

"I will listen with my heart."

"Have I ever lied to you?" The dark head shook the negative. "Then I tell you that your father and brothers love you even more than I. And they too, love Estel, not the king they have promised to protect. Do you believe me?"

"Yes, I do believe you." He drew a deep, deep breath and slowly let it out again. The weight that had borne him down began to lift from his shoulders.

"Is it well with you now?"

"I think it will be…I know it will be. If not today, then soon." The shadow had lightened in the grey eyes. "And now I will take care of you, my brother." Estel calmly turned his hand over and then wiped the blood upon the grass. He firmly grasped the elf's forearm and squeezed tightly. He shouted as loudly as he could for his father.

"Ada! I need a bandage, quickly!"

Elrond ran toward the two and when he came up to them he saw with relief the satisfied nod Legolas gave him. He spoke to his son with his typical calm.

"Of course you do, ion-nin. I have never ceased to carry one, even to bed, since you entered my House." He handed a bandage to Estel and with super-elven control managed to keep from asking why there was a gallon of elf-blood upon the grass. Legolas smiled and jerked his head in the direction of the camp. Elrond returned the smile and turned back the way he had come. His questions required answers, but Legolas had signified that he could afford to wait for them.

Estel quickly made a pad which he pressed tightly to the wound. When the bleeding slowed he looked again at the elf's face. "You will need some stitches. I will do it." He grinned the first mischievous grin that Legolas had seen in over two months. "I am not yet very good at it."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later, by the campfire, Estel frowned in concentration while his father held a torch next to Legolas' arm and instructed him. Legolas stared off at the stars. Only an occasional hissed breath or wince showed that he was aware of the project father and son were engaged upon.

"Like this?"

"Yes, but a little tighter. There! Now go under and – no, that is too deep, try again."

"If he would hold still! Ah! Now I have it – they are very slippery, Ada."

"That is because he keeps bleeding on the thread; most thoughtless of him."

"I am trying to get it done quickly, Legolas," the boy assured his friend.

His father corrected him. "No, you must take your time and do it properly. There are still a few hours before the dawn. Do not hurry. Did you say something, Legolas?"

"That one looks well, Ada, does it not?"

"Excellent! I could not have done better myself! Now remove the first few and try them again. You should aim for a neat, identical row. Legolas will not mind. Good! Very good! You are already much improved." Estel flashed a smile at his father and then bent again to his task.

Legolas propped his chin in his other hand and sighed. Being a friend to a man is a perilous thing for an elf.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

End Chapter 2