Legolas
Only when he was in the highest, thinnest branches did Legolas realize that he had no weapons with him. The need to purify himself was almost as strong as the need to flee. He was hidden and safe in the tree, though, and now, purification came before anything else.
Legolas looked around, but a broken branch wouldn't be sharp enough for his purposes, and there were no thorns in this tree or any of the others nearby. Cursing himself for not thinking ahead, he darted to the ground and started searching. It didn't take him long to find a suitable rock, a nice long one. He broke off the end against another rock, creating a jagged cutting edge.
He hurried back to the high branches and rolled up his sleeves. The bite of the rock against his flesh as it parted was a sweet relief. Surely, if he bled enough, he could expel the foul presence of the men that seemed to lurk under his skin.
It helped, but not enough, so he kept going. Legolas knew he was cutting deeper than he should, that he had to slow down, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. If he just did enough, he could surely bring himself back to perfection. Only then could he face his father, Elrond and Estel.
He was starting to get dizzy, and he knew he had to stop soon. His hands were already slick with blood and his grip on the stone was slipping.
"Legolas! Mellon nin where are you? Please, speak to me."
Oh Valar, they'd found him already. Estel wasn't alone. He could hear at least a dozen horses. He was hidden among the leaves, though. Surely, they wouldn't find him.
He glanced down, intending to check that he was completely surrounded by leaves, when he truly saw himself. Not only was he covered in blood, but the tree branch he was on was too. It was dripping down the trunk and off the tips of leaves. Would there be enough leaves to catch all of the blood before it reached the ground? If not, he was done for. Estel would find him.
Please, he said quietly to the tree, pressing a hand to its trunk in silent communication. He couldn't let them find him, not yet.
With a crack, the branch next to him – only slightly less covered in blood than his current seat – detached from the tree and plummeted to the ground.
No, you traitor! What have you done?
He sensed the tree's confusion. It thought it was helping him. Legolas closed his eyes and prayed that Estel would have passed already.
Shouts below told him that the Valar had deserted him this day.
"Estel, let me –"
"No, Ada, I will go. Legolas? Stay where you are, I'm coming to you."
He had to move. No sooner had he tried when the world swayed alarmingly and Legolas had to clutch his branch tightly to avoid falling. He was losing too much blood; he needed to bandage his wounds, but he couldn't do that while holding on for dear life. He tried removing one hand from his death-grip around the branch, and the world tilted. Legolas snatched it again.
Maybe Estel wouldn't see him. Surely, the Valar weren't this cruel?
"Legolas! Oh no, mellon nin, what have you done?"
He could see Estel's horrified face peeking up from a few branches below.
"Leave me alone, Estel. I can't go back. Not yet."
"You're bleeding heavily, gwador. I have to bandage your wounds. Besides, it's not safe here. You're in spider territory. Please, come down."
Legolas shook his head, leaving out that he may soon come down whether he wanted to or not, because he suspected he would pass out.
"Mellon nin, please! Let me help you."
"I don't deserve your help," Legolas whispered. "Please, Estel, leave me be. I will return to the palace, I promise, when I am ready to face you. I will make myself worthy, I swear, or I will die trying."
"Right, that's it, I'm coming up there." The branches rustled as Estel continued his upward climb.
"Estel, you can't! The branches this high won't hold you."
"I'll risk it. I'm not letting you bleed to death up here."
Legolas violently cursed his friend. He couldn't let Estel die. "Stop, stop! I'll come down, ok? Just stay where you are."
To his great relief, Estel stopped. Now, Legolas was faced with a problem. He'd have to move if he wanted to climb down to Estel, but he was sure that if he let go of this branch, he'd go tumbling down to the ground. The fall would surely kill him.
The thought of death was not the terrifying thing it had once been. One part of him longed for it. Maybe it would be easier… but how could he do that to Estel? To his father, to Elrond and the twins? They'd all been trying so hard to help him. What kind of thanks would that be, easily allowing himself to fall to his death?
"Legolas, either you come down, or I'm coming up."
"I… I think I need help," he admitted. "I can't move."
"Why can't you move, gwador?"
"I'll fall if I let go. I'm dizzy. It's hard to hold on."
"That's the blood loss. Alright, stay there for a moment."
The branches rustled again, but Legolas didn't chance looking down. When Estel spoke again, his voice was coming from a slightly different direction.
"Ok, I'm directly below you. Let go, mellon nin, and I will catch you."
Legolas squeezed his eyes shut. No, he couldn't do this. He couldn't face the world. Couldn't face Estel. It would be better to fall below, to feel an instant of pain as his body broke and his spirit was freed. Estel wouldn't let him fall, though.
He opened his eyes. He had to move. Desperation powered his limbs as he half-leapt, half-fell sideways to a branch to his left, a little further down. Estel was shouting something, but Legolas couldn't make it out over the rushing in his ears.
Another branch. He had to get further away from Estel. Then, he could let go, and he would fall. It would all be over.
His body wasn't cooperating, though. Even as Legolas tried to move again, he felt his grip slacking without his consent. Legolas was only vaguely aware of sliding sideways off the branch as his consciousness fled.
Hands woke him. Hands were on him.
Legolas cried out in panic and tried to escape, but he was thwarted by the thick blanket wrapped around him.
"Legolas, it is Elrond. Do not fear, penneth."
He wanted to push himself as far away as possible, but Legolas was too weak even to lift his head. He was lying in his bed. Elrond seemed to have been in the process of bandaging his arms. He'd moved back when Legolas had flinched from him.
"May I continue?"
"No!" No, no, this was all wrong. He was supposed to be dead. Why wasn't he dead?
"I will not hurt you, penneth. I only mean to bandage your wounds."
Legolas shook his head, frantically clamping his lips shut. The mad desire to tell Elrond the truth – that he wanted to die – almost overwhelmed him. Despair and desperation raced through him. He needed… something. He didn't know what he needed, but he was falling apart.
"Legolas? What is it?"
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He'd never asked for help – never from anyone but Estel. It was such a simple word, but he suddenly found that it would not come. He tried again, panic spurring it almost to the tip of his tongue, but still, his stubborn body wouldn't do it.
Legolas did the only thing he could, hoping Elrond would understand. "Estel."
"Of course. I had to kick him out, he was… never mind. Estel! Come in here."
Estel must have been right outside the door, because he was there almost instantly. He had Legolas in his arms in moments. "Speak to me mellon nin."
"Help," Legolas whispered desperately in his ear. "Help, Estel."
At a word from Estel, Elrond was suddenly leaving, and Legolas found himself alone with his best friend. "Help," he repeated. He hoped that Estel didn't ask him what he needed, because he had no idea what he needed, only that he needed it desperately.
Perhaps it was the weeks spent caring for him, getting to know his needs, or perhaps the Valar whispered in his ear, but Estel seemed to know what to do. He held Legolas tenderly, pressing the prince's head to his chest.
"Speak to me, gwador. Tell me what happened."
The words came now, and Legolas didn't try to stop them. "Wanted to fall. Couldn't do it. Please, Estel. You should have let me fall. Why didn't you let me go?"
"Because I love you, gwador. I would never give up on you, even if you have given up on yourself."
Legolas sagged into his friend's hold. Yes, this was what he needed. To be held, and to be heard, by the one person he trusted to show his deepest weakness to. Estel never let go of him, not when Legolas's tears stopped, not when his breathing returned to normal. Not when he asked if he could call Elrond back, and not when the elf lord patiently bandaged his arms as though there had been no interruption.
As much as he knew it shouldn't, the feeling of hands on him, hands other than Estel's, made Legolas nervous. Had he had the blood to spare, Legolas was sure it would be in his cheeks causing him to flush red. This was Elrond, not one of the men who had attacked him! He had no call to fear the elf lord.
The thought of the men who attacked him hit Legolas like a cannon ball. He forced himself to stay still under Elrond's gentle touch, while all he wanted to do was take a thousand knives to his arms. A slight whimper escaped him. Instantly, Estel was alert, breathing a question into his ear. "Legolas? How are you feeling, mellon nin?"
Even though Estel still didn't let go of him, Legolas felt himself withdrawing mentally. For the first time, it wasn't an entirely welcome experience. He felt relief, yes, to be building up the walls of his perfection back up, but it wasn't as sweet as the relief of Estel holding him while he confessed his deepest fears.
Legolas shook his head slightly, trying to get a grip on himself. Estel had been there in his moment of weakness, but Legolas couldn't be weak anymore. The memory of the men burned in his mind. No, he would find a way to be perfect. If he couldn't die, then that was the only way he could live with himself.
Estel was still waiting for an answer.
"Fine."
"No, you promised, gwador. No hiding. Tell me."
Legolas couldn't tell him. How could he? "You're wasting your time," he mumbled to Elrond. Why spend so much effort and energy on a being as worthless as he? Surely, if they didn't see it now, they would soon.
"Your wounds need to be tended to. They are deep and many. You are lucky I am here; even your father's top healers would have had trouble reviving you after losing as much blood as you did."
He knew that his protests to leave him alone would do no good, so Legolas voiced his other wish, a wish almost as strong as the first. "I want to bathe."
"You are too weak to bathe," Estel said at once. "We cleaned up the blood, but a proper bath will have to wait until –"
"Let him bathe," Elrond interrupted. "You will have to help him, Estel, but if he agrees to this, he can bathe."
Legolas didn't want help, but considering that he couldn't even get up, he wouldn't be able to get to the bath tub without it.
"Fine. Please just make it hot."
It didn't take long for the servants to bring the water, but it wasn't hot enough for Legolas' liking. Estel lowered him into the steaming tub, but it still wasn't enough to scour the feeling of filth from him.
"Haril, more hot water, please. Hotter than this; much hotter." Haril didn't question, but hurried off.
Estel, however, frowned at him. "This isn't hot enough for you? Much hotter and it's going to burn you."
"I don't care."
"Well, I care."
"Please, Estel, I just want to feel clean."
Estel pursed his lips but didn't protest. Legolas knew that he had to summon the strength to wash himself. If he couldn't, Estel would happily do it for him, and he knew that Estel would never allow him to stay in the bath when he realized just how hot it was.
Haril kept bringing hot water until Legolas was happy. The heat seared painfully against his skin, burning away some of the shame.
He took the bar of soap and began rigorously scrubbing himself. Estel stayed in the chair next to the tub – Legolas had begged off Estel being in the bath with him – ready to catch him should he pass out. It was a valid worry; Legolas was rapidly exhausting himself with the scrubbing, but he wanted to get it done.
He could feel himself scraping off layers of skin, and hoped Estel didn't notice. When he got to his arms, which he'd left for last, he intensified the scrubbing, tearing at the newly sewn skin.
"Legolas, stop!" Estel reached into the water to snatch his hands, but yelped, pulling back. "What are you trying to do, cook yourself? Get out, get out!"
Legolas ignored him, but kept washing himself violently. The next thing he knew, he was being hauled out of the bath by a cursing Estel. His energy depleted, Legolas went limp and allowed himself to be carried to the bed.
Before he could be tucked under the covers, Thranduil came in. At the sight of Legolas, he exclaimed angrily. "Estel! Why does my son look like a freshly cooked lobster?"
"I'm sorry, hir nin, I swear, I didn't know the water was that hot!"
Thranduil quickly went to Legolas' other side and examined his arms. "You've torn open your stiches. I'll call for Elrond."
A few minutes later, Elrond was patiently re-stitching his arms and spreading a cooling balm over his burned skin.
"Thran, Estel, I'd like to speak to Legolas alone for a minute."
They must have agreed, because the sound of footsteps was followed by the click of the closing door.
"Legolas. Legolas, look at me."
Very reluctantly, Legolas met Elrond's eyes. "You are not broken," he said softly. "You are loved and worthy. You do not need to be perfect, nor would any of us want you to be."
"You're wrong." Legolas turned his gaze to the silken canopy above. Elrond kept talking, but he wasn't listening. They would get bored, eventually, of watching him. Surely, they would. They would realize he wasn't worth it. He had only to wait.
They would leave him, just as those men had, and then he would be free to do his best to fix himself, to make himself something truly worth loving, as Elrond had said.
Elrond must have left at some point, because the chair was suddenly empty, and Estel was climbing into bed with him.
"Legolas?" He tentatively put a hand on the prince's shoulder. Legolas didn't react, staring blankly at the canopy. "If you don't want me to touch you, I'll understand."
Still, he didn't respond. Estel would figure out the truth and leave quicker if he remained aloof. Legolas didn't bother to listen to the human's words, letting his mind go blissfully blank.