Legolas
The rising sun woke Legolas. He'd lost track of what day it was. He was so confused, and about more than the day. He'd been back and forth ever since his last session with Elrond. Did he want to hide in his perfection, or did he want to reveal everything to those trying to help him? Did he want to live, or did he want to die?
Was he tainted and damaged beyond repair by the men's violation, or was there hope for him? Did that memory change nothing, or did it change everything? Did he want to cut, to starve himself, to throw up? Did he want to do as Estel urged and fight his every instinct on these things?
Legolas had made, unmade and remade so many resolutions that he was dizzy just thinking about it. Unbidden, his mind started to answer the questions for him, urging him to return to as he was before Estel had come to know everything, to beat perfection into himself if he must.
For the second time, he experienced the strange aversion to thoughts he had held sacred since he was a child. He knew that Estel could help him. He was still securely in his friend's arms. Estel was asleep, but even in sleep, he didn't let go.
Legolas knew that he had only to say the word, and Estel would help him, but he resisted. He truly was a weak, pathetic child, clinging to Estel and begging for help with every foul thought that accosted him. For countless centuries, the word had not even crossed Legolas' lips. Now, he couldn't count the number of times he'd said it in recent weeks.
It was almost addictive, that simple word, the word that always brought him comfort and aid, but he still railed against it. Some perfect prince he was. Princes weren't supposed to ask for help. Legolas knew that if he didn't do it now, he would convince himself to bury the word again, and then who knew if it would ever make its way to the light of day again?
"Help, Estel," he whispered brokenly.
The whisper was so soft that Estel shouldn't even have heard it, even if he had been awake. Somehow, though, he did. His eyes opened at once.
"I am here, gwador. Tell me."
"I don't know what I want," Legolas said desperately. "What do I want, Estel?" He knew he wasn't expressing himself well, but it was the best he could do. He could only hope that Estel understood.
"I cannot speak for what you want, mellon nin, but I can tell you what I want for you."
Legolas nodded urgently, and Estel continued.
"I want you to be well," his friend said softly. "I want you to be able to eat without hating yourself for it, without wanting to purge yourself of food. I want your arms to heal, and never to be scarred with cuts again. I want you to realize that no one is perfect, mellon nin, no one, and that you don't have to be. You are more than enough. I want you to believe it. More than anything, I want you to want to live and be well."
Legolas listened with bated breath. Of course, Estel had told him all this before, but the words spoken when he needed them answered every ugly question his mind threw at him. Surely, what Estel wanted for him should be what he wanted, too? Estel loved him, of that Legolas was certain, when he was certain of nothing else.
"I don't know," he mumbled. "I still… it doesn't feel right. But it does. I don't know."
"I know you are confused, mellon nin, but you trust me, don't you?"
He didn't have to think about this for a moment. "I trust you, Estel."
"Then believe me when I tell you that this is right, even if it doesn't always feel it."
"I feel so dirty," Legolas whispered. "Why can't I can't scrub them off me?"
"Well, possibly because I'm not going to trust you to scrub yourself for some time yet, after last time. I'll be washing you from now on, at least until Ada says otherwise. Maybe I'll have better luck getting you clean, hmm?"
This made as much sense as anything else, and Legolas nodded happily. "Ok." Somehow, he was feeling better.
"Ok, then. Now, try not to panic, gwador, but I'm going to say something you won't like."
Legolas' good mood vanished instantly, to be replaced with an all too familiar gloom.
"You have to eat something."
Gloom was replaced with panic. "I can't. It's too soon. I still want…" He cut himself off. He couldn't say that to Estel.
Estel tilted his chin up, countering his thoughts. "You can tell me anything, Legolas. What is it?"
"I still want to die," he whispered. "It's not as strong as it was, but… please, Estel, eating will just make it worse."
"You don't have to worry. I'm not going to let you die, even if you try to. You'll be safe."
"No, I won't! You don't understand, that's not what I'm afraid of. Dying? People do it every day. Dying is easy. Being kept alive when you want to die? When I woke and realized I was alive… if it gets worse, and I still can't die, I can't stand it, Estel, I won't, I'll find a way."
"I'll talk to Ada," Estel cut him off before he could become more hysterical. "You're right, we can't have you feeling like that. I'll insist that he mixes you up something to help before you eat."
"Something to help with… death?"
"You're not the only one who's longed for death, mellon nin, and many people for reasons far less powerful than yours. I've seen Ada treat a couple of patients. There are potions that can help."
Legolas would never have guessed as much, but Estel wouldn't lie to him. "Ok."
"Let me call Ada."
"No!" Legolas clutched Estel in panic as he tried to get up. The room was suddenly spinning, and Estel's hand was on his belly.
"Breathe, Legolas, remember. Slow, now."
"Don't go, please!"
"Alright, I won't go if you don't want me to. I'm here. Talk to me."
"You're still holding me." Legolas felt his cheeks going red, but forced himself to explain his thought. "You have been, ever since… since you told me what I want. What you want, what I should want. If you let go, it'll go away again. The clarity. My brain will convince me of all the other stuff, and then I'll be all alone again. I don't want to be alone, Estel!"
He only realized that his hysteria was once more rising when Estel's hand returned to his stomach, rubbing soothing circles and urging him to breathe slowly. "I'm here. Don't worry, mellon nin, I won't let go, not until you're ready for me to. I would never leave you alone."
Legolas shook his head. That wasn't want he meant. "It's different. You're here, or you're not, but that's not it. It's inside. All alone."
"I don't understand," Estel said gently. "Can you try to explain more?"
Legolas struggled to gather his thoughts. "When I have to be perfect, it's like there's a wall around me. It doesn't matter how many people are around me. I'm still all alone, because they can't get in. Other times, when I'm weak, you can get in. You're there – not just with my body, but with me, inside. I can feel you. I'm not alone then."
"Oh Legolas, I understand. The walls your own mind puts up are more isolating than any prison cell. You must have been so lonely, mellon nin."
He nodded, ashamed of the tears that spilled from his eyes. As he so often did, Estel read him easily, perhaps his expression, though Legolas was beginning to suspect his friend could read his mind. "Do not be ashamed of your tears. Let them out."
"I don't want to be alone again," Legolas whispered.
"I know." Estel hugged him hard, and Legolas clung to his friend's broad shoulders, praying that this time, he would remain with Estel, not be lost in the depths of his own mind.
"Don't leave," he whispered, even though he knew that it was not Estel who left, but himself who did so. "Please, don't leave me, Estel."
"I cannot promise that the walls in your mind will not come back, but I can promise you this. If those walls ever come back, I will not stop battering on them until I am once again with you. I will not let you be alone for long. I can see when it happens, don't think I can't. No matter what, I see you, mellon nin. I will not leave you alone. I will not let you drown."
"Thank you, gwador." Those three words were all Legolas could choke out, but they were enough. More words came, though he wasn't sure if they were understandable through his constant, cursed crying. "I love you, Estel."
"I love you too, gwador. You are worthy of love. Never doubt that. When your mind tells you otherwise, trust me and what I tell you. You don't need to be perfect. Just the way you are is just as you should be."
Legolas wasn't sure he believed it, but he did as Estel said. He trusted his friend.
"Let it out," Estel soothed. "You have centuries of tears to cry. Let them out."
Even if he'd wanted to resist, Legolas couldn't have done so. He wondered why Estel wasn't sick of him by now. All he did was blubber and cry for help. Yet, somehow, Estel still thought he was still worth loving.
His mind started whispering poisonous things again, that Estel was wrong, that Legolas was a liar and a fraud.
Estel held him tighter in response to the increase of the intensity of his weeping, and Legolas shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts away. They didn't go, getting stronger with any moment. Legolas was helpless against them.
Estel was still holding him. He didn't know that Legolas was rapidly falling prey to the terrors of his own mind. He'd held the prince when he cried so many times, and wasn't bothered by the wildness of the sobs, by the desperation with which Legolas clung to him.
It came almost automatically, easily. "Help."
"I am here. Tell me."
"They won't leave me alone, Estel! They're going to take me back, and I'll be alone with them!" Legolas cried out and pressed his head into Estel's chest as a wave of shame went through him, his mind screaming that he was too tainted to touch Estel. "No, no, no… please… I don't want to be alone…"
"I don't understand, mellon nin. Who is taking you?"
"Them," he whispered in terror. "I can't fight them."
He screamed, screamed like he had when he was a tiny elfling, screamed with terror as his own mind betrayed him, snatching at him. He was going to be alone again, all alone with the need to be perfect. Legolas was going to be sick. He could never be perfect. He just wasn't good enough. He'd rather die than try.
"No, no, Legolas! Speak to me, tell me what's going on. Who can't you fight?"
"I'm going to be alone… they're taking me."
"Fight them," Estel insisted, clearly still not comprehending who 'them' was. "Stay with me."
"I can't… they're too strong, Estel… help, please, I don't want to be alone."
"Take my strength. You are not alone. I am right here, fighting with you. Take my strength, mellon nin."
Estel grabbed Legolas' limbs, which were flailing in his panic, and held him tightly. He pressed the elf's head firmly against his chest. "Feel me, gwador. Feel my heart. I will be strong enough for the both of us. Help me fight with you. Tell me."
Legolas listened to Estel's heart. Despite everything, it was steady. Beat, beat, beat. Estel's arms around him were firm and strong. Maybe Estel was right. Maybe he was strong enough for them both.
"The thoughts," Legolas gasped, trying to explain. "I have to go… to be perfect. I'm not worth anything otherwise. It's like a cold room, and it's trying to draw me in. I'm all alone in there."
"That's good, mellon nin, keep telling me. We will fight this together."
"Not worth it..."
"You are worth it, I promise."
"Won't work anyway. Too broken."
"I will fix you," Estel vowed. "Together, we will pick up the pieces."
Legolas kept going, voicing every foul thought that tried to pull him away from the warm safety of having Estel with him. Estel calmly countered each one of them. Sometimes, it was too much for Legolas to keep going, and he hung limply in Estel's arms, merely breathing seeming like too much effort.
When this happened, Estel would press Legolas' head against his chest once more, murmuring words of comfort, promising not to leave him. Legolas had not the strength, but Estel gave his strength freely, and it was enough.
At times, he clung desperately to Estel, while at others he lay in his friend's arms like a rag doll. Estel didn't let that happen for long, because when it did, Legolas was seized by the thoughts of perfection again. Estel held the prince close, wrapping the elf's arms around him so that they were embracing each other.
Legolas didn't know how long they continued for, but at some point, he opened his mouth, and only an exhausted sigh came out. There were no more thoughts to voice. His mind was blissfully blank.
"It's gone," he whispered. "We stopped it."
Ever since Estel had first drawn him out of his cold shell, Legolas had continually reverted to it, only to be drawn back out again. This was the first time he'd prevented himself from stepping back into that hellish isolation and need for punishing perfection. He hadn't thought it possible, but he was still here, in Estel's arms, and he was fully with his friend in thought and emotion, their minds nestling as closely as their bodies.
"We fought, and we won," Estel agreed.
"What if… what if we don't always win?" Legolas was too exhausted to work up much fear, but his fingers tightened on Estel's tunic nonetheless.
"Then I will bring you back. You aren't better yet, mellon nin. This is only a step. We won't always win, but today, we have, and that is enough. No matter what, no matter where you go, no matter where your mind takes you, I will always find a way to bring you back."
"Yes," Legolas breathed. He didn't want to think about the times he wouldn't win, the times when he would be drawn back into his detachment and vicious intentions toward his own body. Not now. For now, he was too worn and weary to do anything other than drift off in Estel's arms.