Wild Justice
Chapter 22: ReminiscingIt would soon be Yenearsira, the winter solstice, and as Legolas sat in the comfort of Lord Elrond's study before a roaring fire with the rain sporadically pelting down upon the windows, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of safety and sadness.
It had been little over two weeks since his stay in the Halls of Healing after his attempt to flee the realm of Imladris, following his release Legolas Greenleaf had been given his own set of private rooms as promised by Lord Elrond himself. It had been most upsetting and yet satisfying at the same time to find that the lord of another land seemed to care more about his will and well being than Legolas' own father had.
He sipped slowly at the hot, diluted wine, which Lord Elrond had given him upon arriving, thinking about both his father and his homeland. He wondered what the inhabitants of Mirkwood would be doing in preparation for the approaching winter festivals.
It was with a strange sense of longing that he wondered what his father, in particular, would be doing this year. Legolas and Thranduil had been as close as brothers at one point, but over the last two years they had drifted apart and become more like strangers than father and son. There had been a time when he would be sitting with his father as he was now with Elrond, simply sitting, sipping wine and mulling over one's thoughts, reflecting on the past year whilst looking forward to the approaching new.
Sometimes they would speak; sometimes they would sit for hours in peaceful and contemplative silence, but always with the comforting knowledge of having a loved one close by. Legolas' brow creased as he watched the fire crackling almost merrily in the hearth. He had thought about sending his father a letter or message, to tell him he was well, maybe explaining… explaining what? Why he left? His father already knew why he left, or should know at least. Why he couldn't come home, perhaps never return? Thranduil should have some insight to that one as well.
He wouldn't send anything, of course. Let his father feel worried over him, if indeed he was even worried at all. It was because of him and Ahearn both that Legolas had needed to leave his homeland. Let them both feel as unwanted and neglected as he had.
Bitterness rose within him. He had loved his father dearly, and still did- just with less passion than before. Thranduil's actions against his pregnancy and thus against Legolas himself, had cut him too deeply to forgive. Somewhere along the line, there had been a lack in communication between them, and Legolas no longer blinded enough not to see Ahearn whispering his poison words into his father's ear like had into Legolas' own.
Something that Ahearn had said to Thranduil had obviously been enough to sway his judgement without even attempting to listen to his own son. Ahearn had tried to whisper words into his own ears, but by then, Legolas could see the truth for himself. Ahearn was a manipulator with a silver tongue and a cold heart. He didn't love Legolas, though he cared, or seemed to, in his own way. To Ahearn however, Legolas was simply there as property, Ahearn's property, to use and abuse as he saw fit.
It was hard having to see Ahearn in this light. Legolas had once believed he was in love with the half-elf. He knewhe was, still was, but he also knew that it wasn't true love and most certainly not a love that was returned with the same intensity. He had been blinded to the maltreatment he was suffering by his foolish infatuation with someone whom he thought had cared.
Oh, Ahearn had his moments, Legolas would give him that- it was one of those moments that had gotten him together with the half-elf in the first place, he thought darkly. But no, there was another side to Ahearn, a side that his human part could not completely control. It was this side that had first captivated Legolas. This side that he had first met when agreeing to allow Ahearn to court him. It had been all flowers and hearts then.
He wasn't sure when it had all begun to change. Begun to get so cold and so dark so fast. Perhaps it began once they had become a couple? Perhaps when Legolas had first agreed to sleep with him? No, it had been before then, definitely before then. Giving himself completely to Ahearn had come when he thought that it would bring back the one he had first fallen in love with. He had given his body in the hopes of salvaging what they had once had together. Alas that the resulting consequences had been the final eye opener.
Alas, indeed. But somewhere along their two-year relationship (a short amount of time to an elf by any standards) things had begun to sour and he had been too blind to see it. The fights, the physical abuse, the fear- how could he have been so sightless? But he had. It was during this relationship with Ahearn that the one with his father began to suffer and Legolas really didn't know how that had happened either.
The blond Elf pushed his thoughts from his mind with a quiet sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in order to prevent the oncoming headache he felt brewing. He vaguely turned his mind back to the approach of Yenearsira. He wondered what the festivals in Imladris would be like? He didn't think he would be allowed to attend, not unless he wanted everyone to know that the Prince of Mirkwood was indeed in Imladris, but it would be nice to see how the elves of Imladris celebrated the winter solstice.
"Legolas?" A deep, soft voice interrupted his musings and he opened his eyes to meet the concerned ones of Lord Elrond Peredhel. He offered a half-smile in response, noting the Elven Lord's slight frown.
Lord Elrond had been exceptionally busy these last few weeks in preparation for the coming festivities: planning for the actual celebrations as well as the arrival of expected and unexpected guests alike, all of whom were hoping to enjoy Imladris' hospitality to the fullest. He knew that the Elven Lord had been spending many hours locked away in this very study with his two advisors, Glorfindel and Erestor. Messengers running to and from the room carrying missives and requests all over his lands as well as to Lothlórien and who knew where else.
Yet, for all his workload, he had made an effort to at least speak to Legolas at some point during the day. The young prince appreciated it greatly, for truly he had no one else to converse with save from Abie, but as a maid in the Last Homely House she had other wards and duties beside him, and so could only ever stay and speak with him during the meal times and not a moment longer.
Not even the twins were available for company, not that he would have sought them out for any. He had not yet seen them since their dual assault on him and as such had still not received their apologies. He was not worried though. He knew that they were kept just as busy as their father and likely could not find the opportunity to do so.
He smiled slightly. Lord Elrond had informed him during one of their exchanges that due to the twins' actions against him, he had assigned Elrohir to copying out the invitations and dictations needed for the festivals, and that Elladan had been set to cleaning and looking after the stables (the other stable hands were eternally grateful for the extra hands, as unwilling as they were.)
Elrohir, though he may enjoy the art of literature and learning, did not in fact enjoy the art of calligraphy, and copying some of the older texts in the library called for this particular skill to be put into practice. Elladan on the other hand, though he may enjoy the pleasures of riding and caring for his own horse- and when the occasion called for it his brother and his father's steeds also- did not enjoy having to clean up after them. It was alright when he and Elrohir were away hunting orc, one did not have to clean up the mess left by their horses (unless they were attempting to cover their tracks), but spending his days in the stables cleaning up after many, many horses? Well, he was sure to enjoy the experience immensely.
As suddenly as his smile appeared it disappeared, to be replaced by a frown as he recalled what they had done to merit their punishments, of his resulting attempt to flee the land. He had been foolish to do so, just as he had been foolish to believe in Ahearn and his love for the half-elf. It seemed nothing he did would ever be right.
A hand touched his knee gently, rousing him from his darkening thoughts.
"My Lord?"
Elrond sighed a little. "I wish that you would call me by my name."
Legolas shifted but made no move to speak. Elrond watched him carefully before he broke the silence once more: "What troubles you, my prince?"
"Troubles me?"
"Your thoughts? You did not look at ease with your ponderings."
"I was just thinking about all that has happened to me thus far, and of my father," he hesitated, "and Ahearn."
Lord Elrond knew all about Ahearn, of course, or as much as Legolas had seen fit to tell him, and that basically had narrowed it down to the bare minimum: Ahearn was a half-elf brought up amongst men, slightly tyrannical in their relationship with each other, the father of Legolas' child, and a mistake he hated to love, but wanted to hate. Though the love still lingered there, it was steadily waning with time and the healing, albeit depressing, reflections on their time together.
Legolas believed, however, that Elrond had been able to read between the lines of everything he had said and deduced from that which had not been said, for every now and then the Elven Lord's words hinted that he knew and wanted nothing more than to make it all better for him. His actions, too, showed that he knew Ahearn hadn't been the gentlest of creatures towards him, and as such, Elrond seemed to make a point of insinuating contact between the prince and himself in order to comfort Legolas.
The blond-haired elf found he thrived under the affection and sought after the elder elf's attentions- the subtle touches to his arms and face, hands through his hair, even the occasional kiss to the brow. These were things Legolas had been deprived of since he was but a mere child still in the care of his father. It made him feel safe and wanted; it was one of the key factors that played a part in developing his feelings for Elrond.
Though not entirely sure what those feelings were, he was enjoying them and even found himself at times wanting more of them. He desired for the lingering touches to linger a little longer; for Elrond's strong hands to stroke his bare skin, not just his hair; and for the kisses to migrate to his lips as well as the flesh of his body.
He flushed a little as he felt his stomach give a little ache at his thoughts; it had nothing to do with the babe growing within it. He broke from his musings again as he heard Elrond speaking.
"Your thoughts are not agreeable ones then?"
Legolas squirmed slightly, "Nay, my lord."
"Do you want to talk about them, tithen pen?"
The blond-haired prince lifted his eyes to meet with Elrond's, "I would not trouble you with my ruminations, my lord."
"Hardly you would trouble me. I am here to listen to you, Legolas. Anything that you would say I would tune my ear to."
There was another long moment of silence, not quite so uncomfortable as it was expectant.
"I still love him." He blurted, not aware of the words until they had been spoken aloud. His hand flew to his mouth, covering it as if he had uttered something truly horrendous- and to himself he had, for such thoughts were meant only for himself to grieve upon in the darkest hours of the night.
He turned his face away, shamed, feeling tears prickle at his eyes. Oh of all the foolish things to say! He did not need the Elven Lord to wonder now at his sanity. He knew it was madness to still love one that had been so hurtful towards him, even if that love was fading, slowly.
A hand gently tugged his face around again and he was startled to find Elrond crouched before him, dark eyes shining with an emotion that Legolas could not identify.
"It is to be expected, Legolas, that after so long together the feelings you have for him would still linger. Love may blossom in a day, but rarely does it fade so. You have nothing to feel ashamed or guilty about."
"But after all that he has done, after all the harsh words he has spoken to me, how- after everything- can I still feel this love for him? Not as strong as it was, I do admit, but still it resides within me, burning like acid in my heart till I am bitter in both love and hate."
He stood suddenly, moving away from the dark-haired elf and pacing a little. "I begged him, you know." He spat in disgust, losing himself to memories of the recent past, of a time before he had had to flee for sanctuary, of a time when he had first discovered the life growing within him only to be told that he could not keep it, of a time when he had practically prostrated himself before his lover and begged for him not to kill their baby. His father had been of no help either.
"I begged him to keep the baby, to keep me." He gave a cynical chuckle. "He was- is- the lowest of all life forms; I should have seen him for what he was sooner."
Elrond's dark eyes followed the pacing elf, watching as he fell deeper and deeper into his memories, watched as he upset himself over the past. He watched but did nothing, knowing this was something the Prince of Mirkwood had to resolve for himself.
"But I was in love- I thought I was in love with him." Legolas turned shining eyes to look at Elrond as if expecting some reply.
"Love is blind," was all the ancient elf replied, never breaking their gaze.
"T'was me who was blind!" He snapped before seeming to deflate. His shoulders slumped as the sudden anger that possessed him left him, leaving behind one vulnerable and terribly confused young elf.
"I feel so weak." He whispered.
"You are not weak."
"He made me weak, his memory still makes me weak." He sighed. "I see now that it was not true love that bound me to him, rather it was fear. But inside of me, there is still a part that tells me I love him." He was silent a long moment as he contemplated his next words. "And now see where my love has landed me." He spoke softly, almost a whisper to be lost in the silence of the room had not someone been listening out for it.
"And where is that, Greenleaf? Where has it left you?"
Legolas looked up at the Elven Lord for a minute as if seeing him for the very first time. A small breeze filtered in through the partly open window, bringing with it the sounds and smells of Imladris' nightlife: the fresh air, cool as it first caressed the Elven Lord's mahogany-brown hair before gently touching at Legolas' own pale face. The rain had stopped, and the steady chirping of crickets and the occasional owl hoot seemed like a serenade to lovers. Legolas felt empty.
Elrond's stare was smouldering to him. Seeming to sear through his very core. He looked away; his eyes sparkling with unshed grief. He felt bitterness swell up inside him like a river about to burst its banks.
"Alone." He spoke suddenly, in answer to Elrond's question, his voice abruptly choked. He spun on his heel, making to leave before his tears could be shed.
However, Elrond was quicker: he had read the signs alerting him to Legolas' intended flight even before the young elf himself was aware of what he was about to do. With swift strides, Elrond reached the door at the same moment Legolas did, his hand falling atop the others atop the doorknob.
Legolas did not look up; he did not move save to place his head against the wood of the door, strands of hair falling forward to obscure his face. They stayed like that for a moment, neither moving, neither speaking. It was only when the Lord of Imladris felt a drop of moisture hit his hand that he moved to take action, realising that tears were finally being shed.
He wrapped his free arm about the young prince's shoulders, feeling their slight tremble. He pulled the unresisting elf back and into the warm embrace of his chest, hugging him tightly from behind. Taking slim white hands in his own and crossing them, hugging the young elf to him.
Elrond's eyes flickered with the light of the candles and fire, the only indication to his innermost feelings as they glimmered with sadness, love and deep understanding.
"You are not alone, lovely one." He whispered into a delicately pointed ear, feeling the elf shiver at the action. "There are those here that care for you. Those at Mirkwood who I am sure care for you, also. You will never be alone, Legolas." He pressed a gentle kiss to the elf's temple, closing his eyes in his own grief over the young elf. "You'll never be alone again."
"I care for you." The words were even softer than the ones spoken before. Legolas twisted in Elrond's arms, and looked at him with shining eyes, tear tracks already forming on his face.
"You do not have to," Legolas whispered, sadness etched into every feature.
"But how could I not?" He drew the unresisting elf towards him, enclosing him in his arms and holding him protectively within his embrace. Legolas sniffled into Elrond's neck; slowly his arms came about Elrond too.
They stood like that for a long moment.
To Be Continued…?
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Peace,
CS WhiteWolf
