Thranduil, Rival, and Healer Helix stood over Web's bedside. The son of Eigil lay asleep, curled beneath the blankets. His face was hidden against the soft pillow and the quilted blanket hid his cheeks.
"Indeed, I felt sick," Rival said, touches of faintness showing in his voice and his eyes pools of pure disgust mixed with worry as he gazed upon the lump on the bed. "I arrived at the cellars and found a locked door of cold iron. I found the key and opened the door and thought I had stepped into the land of death! I found this poor elfling lost and buried amidst the stench of rot and decay, more dead then alive, starving. Chains held him to the wall and weakness held him captive. But what further horrified me was not the fact he has lived in terror all his life but the fact he has never in his few years seen the son or left the cell I found him in. the sunlight hurt his eyes."
Thranduil swallowed, Rival's words awakening the fires within him, causing them to burn with rage. He thought of Eigil and his lips pinched together to hold back his fury. With an effort so great, he clenched his hands together unconsciously, he stilled his thoughts, and allowed some calm to enter his heart, blanketing the rage for he knew this was not the time to explode.
"Life's horrors never fail to surprise me," Helix said, with a sad shake of his head. "I have treated elves, their bodies torn and sliced open in battle, and I have sewn them back together while they screamed and groaned. I have bathed my hands in blood, reached inside bodies to restore balance and felt only sympathy. But for all my experience, when I saw the condition of Web, in all my years, never have I felt such a turmoil of anger and sympathy and sickness in my stomach; pure grief anyone would do such things to an elfling."
"How old is he?" Thranduil asked.
Helix shook his head. "It is impossible to tell. His body looks to be about nine human years but starvation and maltreatment could have halted growth. He could be as old as twenty human years."
"Will he—will he live?"
"Web will live," Helix said. "But I am worried. When Web recovers, he will need love and care in great quantities but I do not know where he will find such love or even if we can give him the support he will need emotionally."
"We will do all we can," Thranduil said. "Do what you can to heal his body, Helix."
"I would think of doing nothing otherwise," Helix said. He reached down and folded the blanket off Web's face. The elfling stirred and mumbled. And Thranduil hissed. Ugly purple bruises and welts covered the face of the delicate child. His veins bulged out of his paper-thin skin. Dried tears were visible on his swollen cheeks. Blood seeped from the split skin.
"The rest of his body fared worst," Helix said. He reached for the cloth soaking in the bowl of cold water on the table to his left and squeezed the water out of it. He ran the cloth over Web's face, gently wiping away the blood and oozing wounds.
Thranduil grimaced, his lips twisting with sorrow and anger. "I expected worst but I should have known it would be worst then I could imagine. It seems Eigil used his son as a punching bag. Oh, I have no pity for him; not after seeing this."
Helix nodded. "I too can find only anger in my heart when I think of Eigil and the cruelty with which he has treated his own son." He picked up a glass jar of white ointment, unscrewed the top, dipped his fingers into the jar, and smoothened it over Web's cuts. The elfling jerked and moaned.
"Hannon le, Rival, for bringing the elfling to a happier place," Thranduil said, inclining his head toward the Captain of the Guard.
Rival nodded, his eyes on Web. "To bring him to a better place brought a sad joy to my heart. I now understand how you felt when your son confessed his wounds to you."
"Legolas's injuries came no where near to this level of abuse," Thranduil said. A twinkle came into his eyes. "Speaking of Legolas, I excuse myself. I must check on his progress and take him some lunch. He is so eager to learn the art of fire-bending, he forgets to eat!"
His heart dwelling on happy things, Thranduil departed on his errand. He arrived at the practice courtyard with a tray of cold food from the kitchens and found his sons practicing fire-punches in a state of great frustration.
"I cannot make it look right!" Legolas yelled. He punched out a fist and a cone of fire exploded out from his knuckles. Brenen, standing nearby, looked at his father with relief.
"Ada!" Brenen cried. "Oh, thank the valar! He has been trying to imitate me and I cannot keep showing him!"
Seeing Brenen's patience was at an end, Thranduil deposited the tray of food on the metal table against the wall by the gate. "Tithen las, your results look good to me. Come, it is time to try something new."
Legolas dropped his hands with a sigh. His eyes brightened as he ran toward his father. Brenen, Realn, and Mykar followed after him.
"Did you bring us lunch to, ada?" Mykar asked.
"No," said Thranduil. "Cinwe is waiting for you three in the dining room. Now, shoe!"
Grumbling, Brenen, Realn, and Mykar dragged themselves out of the courtyard. Legolas looked at Thranduil hopefully.
"You can create fire with little trouble," Thranduil said. "Now I want you to concentrate on creating the heat without the flame. I want you to warm up your lunch. Begin with this cold tea."
Legolas took the mug into his hands and closed his eyes to concentrate on warming the cold liquid. Steam rose from the mug. Legolas looked at his father anxiously, his heart begging to hear his father's praise.
Thranduil gestured to the steak.
Disappointed his father remained silent, Legolas held his hands over the steak, over anxious to do an excellent job of heating the meat. He pushed too hard and a jet of fire torched the meat. The smell of burning made father and son cough. Eyes watering, both stepped away from the smoking plate.
"Gentle, Legolas, be gentle," Thranduil coughed. "Minimal force. Let the heat leave your body slowly. Relax and release it."
Legolas hung his head. "Goheno nin. I-I will not do it again."
Thranduil wiped his eyes. "Legolas, you are not expected to succeed at the first try. Do you want to try again?"
"I would like to eat now," Legolas said meekly. "Could you—will you please heat the rest of the food for me, ada?"
"Of course." Thranduil created a hot bubble of air around the tray. Legolas watched with jealously in his eyes. When the food steamed, Thranduil waved the heat away and sat down across from Legolas at the bench.
"Have you already eaten?" Legolas asked.
Thranduil nodded. "Yes." He clasped his hands before him on the table. "You have progressed well, little leaf."
Legolas ducked his head as a flush spread across his cheeks. "Hannon le, ada."