A storm was coming. Wind howled like a hundred wolves outside the cottage, and rain beat unrelenting on the roof, the walls, the windows. Despite the warm fire blazing in front of him, Legolas shivered. He hated storms. He had never been alone in one before, for Thranduil and Laerwen had always been there to comfort him, to give him the protection and security that no-one else could.
To focus his attention on something other than memories, the Elfling looked towards his captor. Seregeth had not spoken for a while; and although that was nothing to worry over, the fact that he had been relatively pleasant all day – especially since returning from the town – was. Legolas did not want to admit it even silently, but he was nervous. Something was going to happen, he could feel it. And he was not wrong.
After another few minutes spent in silence, the man looked up with a strange smile. "May I have your dog?" he asked softly.
"I…Why?" Legolas glanced over at Mellon, who was chasing his tail, and bit on his lower lip. "He is playing."
"That I can see. All the same, I would like you to bring him to me," Seregeth pressed. There was a hint of warning in his voice.
The Elfling was still for a moment, but then he moved to obey the instruction. As he lifted Mellon from the floor and passed him to the mortal, he noticed that his hands were trembling. Fighting to control them, he sent a quick and silent prayer to the Valar, asking them to protect his small dog. He had known all along that Seregeth's niceness had been too strange to be real. He was going to be punished for something. But what, he did not know. Surely the man did not know about-
"Do you think that I am blind?" Seregeth said softly. "Or perhaps stupid? Let me tell you that I am neither. I know how the minds of children work. So, when I left you alone this morning in the town, I did not stop watching you. I had an idea of what you might do. And I was not wrong. Was I?"
"I don't know what you speak of," Legolas said quietly.
"But of course you do. Do not lie to me, boy. I despise being lied to, as you well know. You also know that lies have severe consequences," Seregeth replied. "You gave those dogs away for nothing. Your tears did not fool me. Did you honestly think they would?"
"I thought that I was doing the right thing," Legolas murmured. "I was saving them from being drowned, I…"
"No. You did the wrong thing," Seregeth answered in a low voice.
The Elfling watched through fearful eyes as his captor placed Mellon back onto the floor. His heart sped, pounding painfully against his chest. "What are you going to do?" he whispered. "Please, don't hurt him. Don't..."
Seregeth looked down, and held Legolas' eyes with his own. Without breaking the contact, he raised a booted foot. His intentions were clear, but so anxious was the Elf not to lose the battle in which they were currently engaged, he did not see anything until it was too late. There was silence, but then the mortal let his foot fall, and he sent it crashing down onto one of Mellon's paws.
"No!" Legolas screamed, as the sound of breaking bones reached his ears. His own cries were mingled with the terrible howls of the dog, who was quivering in shock on the floor. "Seregeth, no!"
"This is your fault," the man snarled. "You deserve to be punished."
For the first time in weeks, Legolas started to cry before his captor. "I know I do. Punish me in whichever way you want to, but not like this. Please don't hurt him any more," he sobbed. "Hurt me instead."
"How touching," Seregeth sneered. "But since you lost me two animals at the market, I think it only fair that I mete out the same punishment again to your little dog, so that we are even."
As the man raised his foot once more to carry out the final bit of cruelty, Legolas threw himself forwards. He grabbed his captor's heel with both hands, and pushed as hard as his small body was able to. Caught off balance, Seregeth went crashing to the floor, but he did not go alone. As he fell, he tangled his hand in his prisoner's hair, and pulled the child down with him. During this chaos, Criltha had crept out and lifted the whimpering puppy into her arms. She cast Seregeth a look of disgust, before taking Mellon back into her room.
Fighting for breath, Legolas tried to hit the mortal's hands away. "Let go of me!" he choked.
"I am going to make you regret that," Seregeth spat. He raised himself so that he was on his knees, and slammed the Elfling down onto the ground. Flashing silver eyes locked onto his own as he shouted: "In fact, I will do more than that. I will make you regret the day that you were ever born!"
"And if I already regret that?" Legolas hissed. "What then will you do?"
"I can do worse things than you imagine," Seregeth snarled. "I can make your life hell; I can make you wish for death; I can snap your strong spirit into two. Do not underestimate me, boy. Do not make that mistake. You think you have seen it all? You should be so lucky."
Legolas glared at the man through eyes bright with fury, and his chest heaved as the breath that had been knocked from him upon falling started to return. But then, without pausing to think about what he was doing, or what the consequences for his actions would be, he snapped his head up and slammed it into his captor's face. It hurt him, but that did not matter. Seregeth reeled back in shock and anger, leaving him free to scramble to his feet and run.
Though, he did not get far. He had taken only a few steps when a hand wrapped around his ankle, and brought him to the ground again. He was close to the fire, very close. He tried to crawl away, but Seregeth grabbed him and pulled him even closer to it. The roaring flames so near to his ears drowned out the storm, and he could feel the heat against his skin. He started to panic.
"No, don't do this!" he gasped. "Don't…"
"What does it take to cure you of your temper, and your insolence?" Seregeth hissed. "I have tried everything, yet you remain a stubborn and spoilt brat. But not any more. This will stop you, I swear."
A strong hand caught Legolas' hair, and he felt his face being pushed towards the fire. He could not let this happen. For a third time, he had to try and thwart Seregeth. But how? As he struggled against the grip he was held in, his flailing hands hit at a long, thin something sticking out from the coals. A poker. A red hot one. He curled his fingers around it, trying to ignore the heat on his skin; and with a cry of anger and pain, he swung it over his head.
When the orange stick struck against his shoulder, Seregeth was too stunned to either move away or express his pain. The second assault was more agonising though, for it hit the side of his face. This time he did shout out, and he fell back against the table, breathing heavily as he pressed a shaking hand to the red welt on his cheek. He looked up at Legolas and shook his head slowly, struggling to keep disbelief from overwhelming him.
"I told you not to," the Elfling whispered. "I told you not to do it, but you tried to… I stopped you, though."
"Put the poker down," Seregeth said quietly.
Legolas looked down, and blinked as thought surprised to see he still held it. "No. What if you come after me again? This will protect me."
"If you think that I am going to come after you at this moment in time, you are a very foolish little boy. Believe me when I say that all I want to do now is treat my wounds," Seregeth replied.
"You never treat my wounds after you have finished hurting me," Legolas whispered. "Why should I let you treat your own?"
"Just put the poker down…"
The Elfling did not move for a moment, but then he shrugged and uncurled his fingers. The weapon rolled out of them; and as it hit the floor with a dull thud, he smiled humourlessly. "There, I have put it down," he murmured. "I am going to my room now, and you can treat your wounds. But maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you should just leave them alone. Then you might know what it is to be a prisoner."
………………………………………………………………………………………………
As the door to his office opened, Thranduil did not look up for a few seconds. He thought it might be Laerwen, but the footsteps that were heavy to Elven ears soon told him otherwise. Raising his eyes, he smiled briefly and inclined his head to acknowledge Thalion's presence. The man gestured towards a chair in front of the desk, and the Elf nodded his assent.
"Forgive me for barging in on you in such a manner, although I did knock three times," Thalion said, as he sat down.
"Did you? I did not hear," Thranduil answered. He shrugged, and looked back at his work. Had he really been so caught up in thoughts?
"You look busy, am I keeping you from anything? I know it cannot be easy – ruling Mirkwood whilst coping with such a devastating loss," Thalion said slowly. "Although, the latter was really what I came to speak of."
The Elf looked up, and nodded. "Go on."
"I hope you do not think this presumptuous, but I am curious as to whether you have stopped searching for your son. I ask only because you have not been to look for him in many days. That aside, you only have one patrol out in the forest," Thalion replied. "I think one patrol-
"Is all that can be spared," Thranduil cut in sharply. "Do not think that I like saying it. It is the truth."
The man let out a deep breath, and nodded. "Of course. I know that there are a number of other patrols busy with the Orcs and spiders; and I am not disputing the decision to assign no more soldiers to the search for Legolas. But if I may suggest something else…"
Thranduil was silent for a moment, wondering if he really wanted to be bothered with this. Then he made a gesture with his hands, and shrugged again. "What idea do you have? After all these weeks it will prove to be fruitless, I am sure. But I will hear it all the same."
"Stop looking for your son in Mirkwood, stop covering ground that has already been covered," Thalion replied fervently. "Do you remember what you said to me on the day that I arrived here? About the link between a parent and child?"
"That I remember."
"You told me that you could feel Legolas," the man continued. "Do you still feel him now?"
"I… Yes. Faintly."
Thalion nodded as though in satisfaction. "That means he still lives - but not in Mirkwood. Five weeks have passed. Five weeks. Surely he cannot still be here if he has not been found in all that time. So, he has to be outside of the forest."
"I have not the power to search all of Arda."
"You do not have to. But if you send one patrol out of Mirkwood, they can…" Thalion fell silent, and exhaled deeply. "I do not know. They can go to the town where Amarth lives, and-
"No. You told your men to send word back here if they came across Amarth or any sign of my son; and no word has yet reached us," the Elf cut in. "He cannot have got there. If he had, surely we would have heard something."
"Maybe. But what if he has taken Legolas elsewhere?" Thalion pressed.
"Elsewhere? Did you not hear what I said about not having the power to search all of Arda? It is no small place," Thranduil answered. He started to shake his head dismissively, but as the man looked away he paused, and gazed at him. "Unless…do you know something?"
Thalion did not reply. His eyes were fixed on the opposite wall, although they were staring unseeingly. He was dimly aware of the Elf speaking, but the words were not making sense to him. Voices were flooding into his mind, voices from the past. And as he listened to them, he realised that his instincts had been right – they had been searching for Legolas in the wrong place.
Begin Flashback
"You are useless, girl!"
Thalion turned away and closed his eyes at the abuse of his sister. Although he listened to it, he did not really hear it. His mind was on other things, primarily the long handled knife that was concealed in the sleeve of his shirt. He had woken early that morning, and had crept out to steal it. So far, he had been lucky. His father had not noticed that it was missing. If he did, there would be hell to pay.
'Or you could just use the knife on him,' an unknown voice whispered in Thalion's head. 'That would save you from his punishments.'
'But I do not want to kill him,' the boy thought.
'You do not have to.'
'But I-
'Just hurt him enough so that you can escape with Surwen. Go to the town. It is only ten minutes from here. Or to be safe, go the next town – thirty minutes hence.'
'I have never killed before. I do not want to be guilty of it.'
'Then you will have to remain guilty of being a prisoner.'
Thalion snapped his head up as the sharp sound of a hand striking bare flesh reached his ears. His father's blow had sent Surwen to the floor; and as he gazed upon the stream of blood coming from his sister's nose, a red mist of anger floated before his eyes, his heart ached with the temptation to scream his rage and destroy anything he could. His hand snaked up the sleeve of his shirt, and he curled his fingers around the knife's handle.
"Stay on the floor," the man was growling, as he pushed his daughter back down. 'It is where you belong.'
"Don't touch her!"
Thalion leapt forwards so that he was standing between his father and sister. The knife was drawn, and it did not shake in his outstretched hand. He was not afraid, as he had thought he would be. Before him, the older human had fallen silent and taken a few steps back. But now he was shaking his head, laughing derisively. At that, the younger felt the angry feeling inside of him double in intensity.
"I will do it," he said in a low voice.
"Put the knife down, and stop making a fool of yourself," the man sneered.
"No."
"Do it. Put the knife down, or I will force it from you."
"No."
"Damn you, boy!"
The man suddenly lunged forwards to wrench the weapon away, but he staggered back only a second later. He looked down at himself, at the knife handle protruding from his chest, and shook his head slowly, disbelievingly. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words fell dead on his lips. A strange filmy mist appeared before his eyes; and as darkness took him, he sank limply to the floor.
"Is he…" Surwen swallowed nervously as she looked upon her still father. "Is he dead?"
"I am not a murderer," Thalion replied shortly. "Wait outside for me."
"Why?"
"Because if I leave him in this state he will die," the boy said. "I will remove the knife and bandage his wound. And then we will leave. We will escape."
"You will save him? If he lives, he will come after us-
Thalion shook his head immediately. "No. He knows now what we can do, and he will not want to risk anything like this happening again. He has his pride."
"Do not think this will stop him!" Surwen cried angrily. "If he does not succeed in finding us that will be defeat, and he cannot accept that. There will be other children, younger children who cannot fight him. They may not be his own, but he will do to them what he has to you and I. Thal, do not give him that chance. You have saved yourself, you have saved me. Why will you not save his future victims?"
"Wait outside," Thalion said quietly.
Surwen turned away, and shook her head sadly. "Very well. But think about the children whose fate you are sealing by saving his life. You are condemning them to lives that we have lived, because Seregeth will never stop."
End Flashback
Thalion looked up at the Elven-king through glistening eyes. His voice shook as he said: "I know where Legolas has been taken."
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Queen Laerwen was alone, but that was how she preferred to be. The solitude meant that she could think and hope and dream without interruption; it meant that she could cry without abandon for the loss of her only child. Her husband she still loved, despite the hardships they were struggling through, despite the ever present tension and anger between them. But facing him was hard. It made her heart ache with guilt, because she knew that in a week's time, she would no longer be on these shores. She knew that Thranduil would be entirely alone, with no family left to him.
Her head jerked up sharply, as though in surprise. The truth – she was surprised. Ever since Líndariel had revealed that a ship would be waiting at the Grey Havens, Laerwen had thought about it unwaveringly, had envisioned herself upon the ship which would bear her away from the pain that staying in Middle-Earth brought about. But not once had she said or thought that, yes, she would leave.
"This makes it final," she murmured. "I really am going to take the ship into-
She fell silent as the door opened. It was Thranduil. Her heart sank as waves of guilt swept over her, but the expression of joy on her husband's face made her stop and look at him carefully. She did not even consider the fact that maybe, just maybe, there had been a breakthrough in the search for her child. That was a testament to just how little hope she had.
"I have some news," Thranduil said, clearly struggling to keep his voice calm. "It is Legolas."
Laerwen looked up, and delicately arched an eyebrow. "Legolas?" she repeated quietly.
"Yes, I…" The Elven-king looked slightly disappointed at the lack of reaction, but as he sat on the bed next to his wife, he smiled again. "Meleth-nin, Thalion thinks that he knows where Legolas has been taken. He is almost certain that a man he knows of has our son captive. Of course that is not good, but at least it is a lead. It means that we can… Laerwen?"
The Queen laughed softly, sadly, and shook her head. "Thalion thinks that he knows? Speculation is nothing. It will get you nowhere."
"But he is almost certain that-
"Almost? Thranduil, don't do this to yourself. Do not build up fresh hope for yourself, because it will soon come crashing down around you," Laerwen said quietly. "Why can you not accept, as I have, that we have lost Legolas?"
"Because I am stronger than that," Thranduil replied coldly. "Until Legolas' body lies before my eyes, never to awake again, will I believe that he is truly gone. For me, he still lives, even if he is dead for you."
As though she had not heard any of this, Laerwen stood, and started to pace slowly up and down the large room. "And I suppose this means that you are leaving soon, to go and find a child who is not there?"
"I have never before heard anything quite so hypocritical," Thranduil said, incredulity creeping into his voice. "Only a few days back, you were tidying Legolas' room because you were sure that he was coming home. You refused to accept anything other than that."
"Things change," Laerwen said shortly. She paused in her pacing to glance down at her husband, but she was quick to start up once more. "Have you come to say goodbye?"
"Not yet. We are leaving in the morning at first light. It should take us a few days to reach this man's home," Thranduil replied. "We could be gone for up to a week. Maybe even longer."
The Queen looked up sharply, and her heart sped against her breast. The ship was leaving in the same amount of time. But she said nothing of her fears. Instead, the only words to leave her lips were: "I see."
"Laerwen, I… I know that life has not been easy for either of us since Legolas went missing," Thranduil said softly. "And I do not think that we have been helping each other at all, especially recently. But if you want to talk – about anything – then please, do not hold your silence. I want to try and help you, I really do."
"What has brought this on?" Laerwen asked in a low voice.
"Something is playing on your mind, I can sense it," Thranduil answered. "It troubles you."
"You do not want to know."
"I do."
"Moreover, I do not want you to know."
Thranduil rose from his place on the bed, and went to his wife. He shook his head slightly, and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Laer, if you cannot tell me, who else can you? I want to know. I want to help."
"Many thoughts have been on my mind of late. One especially… Vehiron," Laerwen said slowly, almost dreamily. "Do you remember him?"
The Elven-king stiffened, and his face paled as he replied in a low voice: "Of course I remember him. He was my brother."
"Yes. And I have been wondering…maybe he had the right idea. Sailing to Valinor, I mean. At the time, I disagreed with what he did, but now that I am faced with the same grief…" Laerwen fell silent, and shook her head slowly. "Now, I can empathise with him."
"Don't…" Thranduil turned away sharply and swept a hand through his hair, pulling hard at the golden strands, and feeling a savage satisfaction at the pain. "Do not say that, do not think it. I will not lose another whom I love. I cannot. Coping with Legolas' disappearance is harder than anything I have ever before lived through – even losing my brother. If you sailed, I... Valar, I do not know what would happen."
"You are strong," Laerwen said quietly.
Thranduil turned to face his wife; and although his eyes flashed angrily, there were other emotions that the Queen had not seen for many years in them – pain, confusion, grief, despair. It hurt her heart to see them, but she could find no words of comfort. She remained silent. So did the King for a time, but then he shook his head and went to the door. He did not look at Laerwen, but his final words were heard clearly.
"I am not strong enough for this."
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Legolas lay facedown on his mattress, crying silently into his pillow. The outward strength that he had shown before Seregeth had vanished the moment he was in his own room; and although he was not alone, he did not care that Criltha was there to witness his display of weakness and emotion. But she did not even appear to notice him. She was sat on her own mattress, gently bandaging Mellon's injured paw with a strip of cloth from her tunic. No sarcastic comments came from her, no laughter. If anything, her reign of silence was one of pity.
As she tied off the make-shift bandage, she looked up at the little boy's shaking form, and murmured: "I have finished tending to your dog. You can have him back now."
"Keep him," Legolas whispered. "He will only get hurt if he stays with me."
"That is not true," Criltha replied. "And besides, he needs you. Seregeth will not want him. I would not know what to do with him. You at least can care for him."
The Elfling turned his face to look across at the other mattress, but he did not sit up, nor did the tears stop falling. "I can only care for him with love, and that isn't enough to stop his paws from being broken," he said bitterly. "So, I don't want him. I don't want to be guilty of causing pain."
"He is your friend," Criltha said. "He-
Thunder crashed overhead, cutting her off. With a noise of fear, Legolas closed his eyes tightly, and buried his face once more in the pillow. He expected a peal of laughter to ring out from Criltha's direction, but all he could hear was the screaming wind and pelting rain. As the roll of thunder died out, he sat up. The girl was watching him with a sombre expression, and he glared at her.
"Go on, laugh at me," he spat. "I know that you want to."
With a smile, Criltha shook her head. "That is not what I want to do. You think that I am cruel and heartless, and I understand why. I have not been pleasant since my arrival here. But believe me, I am not cruel."
"No, you are not. But you are not a nice person," Legolas replied.
"I…I was the only woman in my family. Mother died giving birth to my younger brother, and without her there to protect me, I was abused in every way possible by my father, my uncle and my two elder brothers," Criltha said quietly. "Can you imagine that? Can you imagine being abused by the ones who are supposed to love and protect you?"
The Elfling was silent as he thought of his own family, but then he shook his head once, and said: "No. I can't."
"Pain was all I knew. It was all my life was, apart from where my younger brother was concerned," Criltha continued. "You remind me of him, both in appearance and personality - although, it has to be said that you are fairer to look on than he. But of course, you are an Elf."
"How old is your brother?" Legolas murmured.
"Nine. The same age as you, I think." Criltha paused, and shook her head. "No. You are younger than that to the eyes. You are seven years old. Or eight."
"I would be seven if I was a human."
"Aside from Mother, my younger brother was the only one I ever loved. Until Thuris came along. He was a few years older than I, and we… well, we fell in love." Despite the nature of the words, there was an angry edge to Criltha's voice. "But it was not real. He rescued me from the abuse of my family, only to sell me to Seregeth. He only wanted me for money."
"I'm sorry," Legolas said quietly. Thunder rolled overhead and he closed his eyes again, trying to shut it out. He did not want to cover his ears – that would be childish. When the noise had faded, he looked back at Criltha and repeated: "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"Of course not. So you see, I thought that I would be starting a new life with a man I loved. But I was very wrong," the girl said bitterly. "When I realised that my life was not going to change, I was so… I was more than furious, and your innocence did not matter to me. All that mattered where you were concerned was that I could be angry, I could vent my rage – and you would not stop me."
"Why are you not angry any more?" Legolas asked.
"I am still very angry. But not at you." Criltha nodded towards the child's bruised arms and shoulders, and smiled sadly. "You are a victim. An innocent. I should have realised that before now, and I should have tried to befriend you."
The Elfling looked up, and chewed on his lower lip. A pink flush had crept over his cheeks, and it deepened as he said: "Will you be my friend? I know that I am only young, but-
The door to their room was suddenly kicked open with such force that it slammed against the wall, and bounced off it again. Seregeth strode in, his face a fearful picture of fury; his blue eyes blazing like a wizard's fire. The wound on his cheek was covered by a strange green paste; and Legolas could smell the horrible acrid smell of it as the man stalked towards him. He jumped to his feet and started to back away, but his wrist was immediately caught in a vice-like grip.
"You are coming with me," Seregeth growled, dragging the boy through the cottage. "Did you think that I would let you escape after your little stunt with the poker? Of course not."
"Let go," Legolas whispered. "You're hurting me."
The mortal laughed manically as he yanked open the front door of the house, and pulled his captive through it and into the rain. "I am hurting you? Good, it is what you deserve. Ah, are those tears that I see in your eyes?"
"No…"
"You are not so brave any more, are you?" Seregeth spat. "Well, let us see what you make of this."
Without releasing his grip on the boy's wrist, the human reached down behind the tree stump just before the cottage, and drew out a long chain. One end was driven firmly into the ground, and on the other end was the iron collar of a dog. Thunder sounded like the beating of a drum. Lighting struck a second later. Legolas cried out and tried desperately to escape so that he could run somewhere – anywhere – but Seregeth was quick to snap the collar around his neck. With a noise of distress, he fell back against the wet ground.
"Take it off me!" he cried, clawing at the despicable restraint. "Take it off!"
"No. This is your punishment, and you will see it through," Seregeth answered quietly. "Scream as much as you want. Shed as many tears as you can. It will not make daylight come any quicker."
Legolas stopped scrabbling at the collar to look up at his captor in horror. "Daylight?" he breathed. "You are going to make me stay out here all night? But I…the storm…"
"You do not like storms," Seregeth sneered. "They frighten you. They make you cry. They remind you of the comfort that you sought in the arms of your parents when you were too terrified to be alone. I speak the truth. Do I not?"
"Do not make me stay out here," Legolas whispered. "Please don't-
"Do I speak the truth?" Seregeth roared. "Answer me, boy, or so help me I will-
"Yes," the Elfling sobbed, as thunder boomed overhead. "Yes, it is true. I cannot stay out here in the storm, please don't make me."
"Sorry, but you should have thought about the consequences before doing what you did," the man replied in a low voice. The heavy rain had washed away the paste on his cheek, and the red welt stood out vividly. It did look painful.
"I was frightened," Legolas breathed. "It was instinct to try and protect myself. I…was so scared, I…"
Lightning streaked down from the sky and struck some way outside of the copse, but despite the distance, the Elfling still moaned in fear and backed away as far as the chain would allow him to. At any other time, the collar around his neck would have humiliated him. But he was only a child, a child who was afraid. And his fear of the man towering above him, of the storm, overwhelmed any other feelings that he might have.
"Sweet dreams," Seregeth sneered.
"No!"
The mortal turned and walked through the rain back to his cottage, laughing as the sounds of the Elfling's cries reached his ears. Anyone else would have been hurt by the tragic noises, yet he only revelled in them. Still smiling, he shut the door behind him. Criltha was standing at the far end of the room, her face pale and angry as she stared at him. Her green eyes were flashing as much as his own blue ones.
"How could you?" she whispered. "How could you do that?"
"Tell me what is wrong with punishing a badly behaved child," Seregeth replied. "The boy will not be controlled. It takes a lot to get through to him. When you get to know him a little better, you will understand that."
"Maybe he is wilful and headstrong, but that does not excuse you. He is afraid of storms," Criltha said shakily. "Fear is a powerful weapon. And you used his fear against him! You-
"Silence!" Seregeth snapped. "Sit down, and hold your tongue. I do not want to hear any more of this."
The girl was still for a moment, but then she dropped her gaze to the floor in acquiescence. She pulled a chair out from underneath the table; and as she sat, a long sigh escaped from her lips. One hand came up to rest against her forehead, and she was only dimly aware of Seregeth moving to stand behind her. All the same, she knew what was going to happen. She knew only too well.
"Do not look on this as a bad thing," the man was saying. He leaned down close, and murmured against her ear: "After all, you and I have spent little time together since your arrival here. With the boy out of the way, maybe we can enjoy more of each other than we otherwise would."
"Whatever we may do, rest assured that I will not enjoy it," Criltha whispered.
Seregeth trailed one hand lazily down the girl's throat, and inhaled the scent of her hair. He smiled hungrily. "But I will," he breathed. "I did not buy you just so that I might look at you."
Thunder crashed outside. Lightning followed soon after. As uncaring and rough hands started to ravage her body, Criltha closed her eyes tightly, silently telling herself to be strong, that the abuse surely could not be any worse than that which she had suffered for so many years. Another clap of thunder rang out. The skies were momentarily illuminated. And underneath the screaming wind and hammering rain, she was sure she could hear the cries of a single child.
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Thranduil stood alone, shooting arrow after arrow into a heavily abused target that stood some forty feet away. It was late – gone midnight, in fact – and even though he knew that in a few hours he would be starting out on a long journey, he felt no need to sleep, or even just rest. How could he, when his wife had all but admitted that she wanted to sail? Maybe he should be with her to offer comfort, but he could not find it within himself to do so.
He had tired of being strong before others, he no longer wanted to be the one who had to wipe away tears and give reassurances. He was suffering more than he outwardly displayed; and because of that, because he kept it all inside, no-one thought he needed help. But he did. What if he wanted to pour out his fears? What if he wanted someone – just one person – to listen? What if he wanted to drop all pretences of strength and stoicism, and cry for the son that he had lost?
"I am no different," Thranduil hissed, releasing an arrow which sped like lightning, "to anyone else," – as it hit the target, he notched another – "in the whole," – it was loosed – "damn" – it whistled through the air – "realm." The arrow struck.
"But you are the King."
Thranduil hesitated, but then he reached into his quiver and pulled out another arrow. "Alondir. I did not hear you."
"No, that does not surprise me," the veteran warrior replied. "You seem very caught up in what you are doing. Incidentally, what are you doing out here in the pouring rain?"
"Archery."
"Of course."
Thranduil pulled back his arm and gazed down at the arrow for a few seconds, before letting it fly. He did not look to see where on the target it embedded itself. "What do you mean by that?" he asked softly. "You said: 'but you are the King'. So I am, but it should not make a difference to the way I cope with feelings and emotions."
"Maybe not, but you were brought up to follow protocol," Alondir replied. "You were taught to be strong from the moment that…" He closed his eyes as he realised that there was no disguising what he had prevented himself from saying.
"After Vehiron left," Thranduil said in a low voice. He strung his last arrow, and continued: "And if I want to take off my emotional armour? If I want to drop all pretence, am I able to? Can I allow myself to be weak just for a few seconds?"
Alondir did not reply. The blonde Elf let his arrow fly; and this one, unlike all of the others, went straight past the target. The wind had caught it in mid-flight, and tossed it far away from its intended place. Thranduil was still for a moment, but then he dropped his bow to the floor, and snapped open the leather straps around his shoulders. The empty quiver also fell, and he walked away from them in silence. He did not care.
"You should let your emotions free," Alondir sighed, as he followed his friend towards a beech tree. "You are the only Elf in the whole realm who has not shed tears since Legolas' disappearance; and although your strength is admirable, I fear that it may be doing you more damage than good. Tears are not evil. Do not be afraid to let them fall."
"As a child, I lost my mother and brother. A few years on, I lost my father," Thranduil said quietly. As he sat at the foot of the tree, his vision started to blur. He wondered vaguely if it was from rain water. "I never imagined that I would lose my child or wife. But it may well have come to that already."
"No-one expects anything such as this to happen," Alondir murmured.
"So, why does it?"
The veteran warrior sighed, and leaned against the trunk of the tree as though for support. "You ask a question that cannot be answered."
"There are many more," Thranduil whispered. He rested his head in his hands, and exhaled shakily as he said: "There are so many more questions that I have been asking myself, but none of them can I answer. The waiting is the worst part. And the not knowing."
"Of course. But maybe we will know more when we arrive at this man's home," Alondir replied. "Maybe then some of our fears can be alleviated, our questions answered."
Thranduil did not reply. He looked up at the sky, narrowing his eyes slightly against the heavy rain. "There is a storm coming," he said quietly. "I can feel it in the air."
"Yes. I heard some thunder a while back. It is quite a way from here, but I think that it is great in size," Alondir replied. He glanced down at the younger Elf, and smiled slightly. "Let us hope that it does not strike here. This rain is quite enough to be going on with."
"I wonder if Legolas is close to the storm," Thranduil murmured. "If he is, I know that he will be feeling afraid and unsafe. I cannot bear to think of him so. Before he disappeared, he always had a fear of thunder and lightning that is natural to any child. But he was never alone. I was there to hold and comfort him, but now… Alondir, if my son is alone…"
"Try not to think of it," the commander advised softly.
"How can I not?" Thranduil snapped, looking up angrily. But then he shook his head, and flicked his gaze away. "Forgive me. I did not mean to… I just… Alondir, I want my child back. I want him to be here with me now, and I want my wife to be happy once more. I want everything to go back to the way it was, and…"
Alondir smiled sadly. He knew why Thranduil had fallen silent, and he was glad that the proud Elf was allowing tears to fall. Tears are not evil, they are not enemies that have to be fought away. Instead, they are elixirs of healing, for they help to cleanse the heart and soul of grief, of pain. They are proof that the one who sheds them is no different to anyone else, they are proof that emotions exist in everyone.
"I know what you want," Alondir replied after a while. "And one day, you may well receive it. I cannot say when, or even if indeed you will. But you may."
Thranduil pulled the back of his hand over his eyes, and let out a deep breath as he got to his feet. He turned to face the elder Elf, and nodded determinedly. "Yes, I may. The hope I had for finding Legolas was fading swiftly, but Thalion's revelation this evening has restored it. I think that he will be there. The Valar have been playing games with us for too long. They are not cruel enough to continue."
Alondir made a brief incline of his head; but he remained silent, not trusting himself to give an answer to that. The Valar should not carry on hurting Mirkwood, they should take pity on Thranduil and his family. But the commanding officer had a strange feeling, one which he could not place – nor did he really want to – that not all was yet over. Somehow, he knew that there was more to come.
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Well, this was a fairly long chapter. I was going to wait until tomorrow evening to finish typing it up, but I thought I'd do it all now, because I know how frustrating it is having to wait to read something when you have already been given a time for when it'll be up.
That's all I'm going to say now, because its past midnight and I have to get up for college in the morning, and I don't feel too great right now – I think I'm getting a cold!
Thanks for all your lovely reviews, they mean a lot to me,
Misto
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