AN: Must...update...chapter...neither cough, nor congestion, nor fever, nor dizziness...ACK! Okay, I'm really just playing it up. I just have a basic cold, completely controllable with over-the-counter medication. I do sound like a cross between a frog and a duck, though.
Review Responses are up on my homepage (link on my profile). And starting now I'm changing the way I'm going to do them. I'll still archive them every week, but I'm going to start using the reply feature for everyone logged in. If you're not logged in, I think I'll just put them up on my profile until I post the next chapter.
Chapter Twenty: The Truth
Legolas studied the pattern of the blanket on the bed for a moment, considering where to start. He knew he owed the twins a full explanation—the whole story—but it had been a secret for so long.
But now was the time. He was so tired of feeling afraid, it was finally time to tell someone.
"I don't know why she hated me," he said quietly. "I didn't really even realize she did until years later...I just thought I really was a bad elfling. I didn't understand...I didn't think I was that bad, but I tried to be good. I was never good enough for her."
He sighed. "I don't know when it started, but in the months before...before I came to Rivendell she started acting differently, harsher. If my hands were dirty she told me I was turning into a—a dirty l-little orc," he shivered. He'd had nightmares for years about that—where he'd either turn into an orc or his father would just think he was one and throw him out of the palace. "She only hit me once, but she used to dig her fingers in when she put her hand on my shoulder." Unconsciously, one of his hands strayed up to massage the spot in question. "She'd yell at me for things like speaking too quickly, and it seemed like she always drew my bath too hot or too cold."
Legolas shook his head. "I know that last part sounds silly, but it made me afraid to be dirty, and not just because she'd tell me...call me that name."
He glanced up, and could see that Elladan was already fuming. "You promised," he reminded the twins quietly. "Please...I don't want her to hurt you, too."
"She won't," Elrohir said quietly. "Tell us about the dungeons.
The young prince shivered again, leaning back against the wall behind the bed. "I had been out playing with Relfían and Ceretín, they were teaching me to climb a tree. Beledgur startled me, and I fell. He was carrying me inside when Amarthwen stopped him." He paused, rubbing one hand over his eyes. "She said she'd take care of me, and I wanted to beg Belegdur to stay with me but I thought his duty must be more important. So I let her take me. As soon as my brother was out of sight she pulled me into a side room and demanded to know what I was thinking. Sh-she slapped me...it left a bruise...and started dragging me through the halls. I tried to stop her, tried to pull back but she was so strong."
He sighed, resting his head back to stare up at the ceiling. The next part was the hardest. "She took me down into the dungeons, down deeper than I'd ever been before. She found an open cell—there was a spider in it—and pushed me in. Then...then she told me," he swallowed. Amarthwen had called him a dirty little orc so many times that every memory hurt. "She told me that she'd kill me if I told anyone what happened. Then she left me there, and took the torch. I think you know what happened next?"
The twins nodded. Legolas knew it was common knowledge that he'd come out of the dungeons with a broken arm and a rat bite, and he didn't think it necessary to share the somewhat scattered memories he had of the hours in the dungeon.
"Do you feel any better now?" Elrohir asked, sitting up on the edge of the bed next to Legolas and turning his face to study the pair of cuts Amarthwen had left.
To Legolas' surprise, he did. It was as if finally telling the truth released some of the eighty-six years he'd spent afraid of Amarthwen...though even if she decided to go through with her threat he felt death had to be better than living all eternity in fear.
"We should tell your father," Elladan commented, standing up.
"No!" Legolas sat forward, wide-eyed. "Don't tell him...please."
Elladan turned back, puzzled. "Why not?"
"I," Legolas sighed. "I've kept it a secret for so long...I'll tell him, later."
The older twin didn't look convinced, but relented. "We should at least tell him that she was behind last night's attack," he said, his tone allowing no argument.
Legolas finally nodded. "I'll tell him at the banquet tonight," he said slowly.
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Belegdur stood in the hall with his arms crossed, watching the maids go in and out of his younger brother's room, all carrying clothes and bedding and even the curtains.
Shaking his head and muttering to himself, Belegdur stalked over to the room to look inside. The maids were cleaning the smoke damage as best as they could, though a strange smell still lingered. "Does anyone know what happened yet?" he asked, trying to hide the concern in his voice.
"It seems the fire just went out of control, Lord Belegdur," one of the maids called.
Belegdur frowned. "Then explain why Elladan was calling for the palace guard last night," he grumbled. He crossed his arms again, then decisively spun on his heel and strode back to his room. Flinging his wardrobe open, he pulled out a couple of formal robes and a regular tunic and leggings. He considered the clothes—he was only a hair taller than Legolas and certainly not much broader, so anything he had should fit. After a moment he cast them aside, turning instead to the ones the seamstresses had delivered only the day before. He might as well give his brother the clothes rather than just lending them, Belegdur thought. It wasn't as if he was lacking in something to wear, and Legolas would need new clothes anyway. He couldn't expect to go around dressing like one of those twins, could he?
He easily found his way down the hall to the guestroom his father had assigned Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond. Much as he disliked them, he knew Legolas would have gone to them after whatever incident in his room last night.
Belegdur knocked forcefully on the door, impatiently tapping one foot as he heard whispering and muttering inside. The door opened a crack, and one blue-gray eye peeked out.
"What do you want?" the elf asked in surprise. Belegdur didn't know if it was Elladan or Elrohir, and honestly he didn't care.
"Is my brother in here?" he demanded, then paused as he realized the tone he was using. Forcing himself to sound more civil, he repeated his question more quietly. "Is Legolas with you?"
The dark-haired elf regarded the prince with suspicion. "Maybe."
Belegdur sighed. "I don't have time for this, is he all right?"
"Why do you want to know?"
It had to be Elladan, Belegdur surmised. He'd always clashed with Elladan—somehow he could almost get along with Elrohir. Almost. "If you must know," he gritted out through clenched teeth, "I was worried about him. I came out of my room last night to find the hall filling with smoke from his room and he was nowhere to be seen, and no one seemed to know where he had gone. Is Legolas with you?"
The door closed abruptly. Belegdur reflected that had the situation been less severe someone would have found this quite humorous. Of course, he thought angrily, Elladan probably did think it was very funny.
The door opened again, but this time Belegdur faced his brother. "Belegdur?"
"Are you all right, Legolas?" Belegdur asked, his voice softening a hair when he saw the wounds on his brother's face.
"I'm fine," the younger prince nodded. "What are you doing here?" he asked in surprise, glancing at what Belegdur carried.
"Everything in your room was damaged," Belegdur explained. "I brought you some things to wear."
"Oh...thank you, but I can borrow something from the twins," Legolas said. "It shouldn't take too long to have my things cleaned."
Belegdur huffed, and dumped the clothes into his brother's arms. "These are not a loan, Legolas. These are for you. The seamstress finished them yesterday, but I already have enough clothes. I thought you might be more comfortable..." he shrugged. He wasn't used to this...Legolas was giving him a strange look.
The younger prince glanced down at the clothes in his arms, and Belegdur could see him looking over them. "I thought we were close to the same size," he said. "You'll want to have the robes taken up, though. They'll drag on the floor otherwise, and you don't want them to get tattered. Now, do you have any proper shoes to wear to the banquet tonight?"
To Belegdur's surprise, Legolas threw his arms around him in a surprising show of affection. The older prince hesitated...gently patting the younger's back.
"Thank you," Legolas said with a smile, backing up and gathering the clothes that had fallen on the floor.
Belegdur snorted. "You might need to have them ironed now," he said, sharply, but the slight smile on his face belied his tone. "I am glad you're back...and..." he swallowed. This was something he wasn't used to doing. "I should have been kinder to you yesterday."
"Are you apologizing?"
The older prince nearly groaned at the twin's almost incredulous tone. Leave it to Elladan to ruin something. "Yes, Elrondion, I am," he said sharply. "Perhaps if your tutors taught you something about basic propriety you would understand that."
"What are you saying?" Elladan pushed in front of Legolas, a dark look in his eye.
"Simply that your ways are so barbaric it would be a miracle if my brother had an ounce of civility left. It will truly be due to his blood if he's able to recover some sense of dignity here."
Legolas shoved in between the two, shaking his head. "Now is not the time for this," he said, looking from Elladan to Belegdur. The older prince could see the determination in his brother's eyes, and decided to stop. He could always continue this argument with Elladan another time.
"I will see you later, Legolas," Belegdur said with a regal nod, and turned on his heel and left. He bit his tongue as he walked away, refusing to add a scathing insult. He really did want to be more civil to his brother...but not to Elladan.
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"Stop fidgeting, you look fine," Elrohir said lightly, nudging Legolas with his shoulder.
The prince grimaced. The robes Belegdur had given him fit well, but he wasn't quite used to clothing like this. They were silver and green, whereas almost everything he'd had when he lived in Rivendell had been of a darker hue. On top of that, his father had produced a crown for him, beaming as though it was some great gift.
The thought of Belegdur made him grin. He couldn't forget the look on his brother's face when he had hugged him...it had been a bit impulsive, but seeing Belegdur had brought to mind the rumors he'd heard, and a part of him had wanted to prove he loved his brother and knew he would never be responsible for something like that. If only he could find some way to explain that to Ceretín and the others...
"Well, Princeliness, should we enter?" Elladan asked, breaking Legolas out of his thoughts.
"Elladan!" Elrohir scolded his twin sharply. "Do be serious. This is an important banquet."
"More than the one last night?"
Elrohir shook his head. "Don't listen to him," he said to Legolas.
The younger elf nodded distractedly. His hand started to steal up to the still-healing wounds on his face, but he stopped. The twins had assured him the knife cuts were healed enough that they could pass for scratches, as though he had caught a limb on a tree.
"You don't have anything to be nervous about," Elladan said seriously as they entered the banquet hall. It was mostly empty—the twins and Legolas had come early.
Legolas shook his head. For all he knew Amarthwen's accomplice would be in the room tonight, and he had no way of knowing who it was. He knew Amarthwen wouldn't be here—she wasn't quite audacious enough to do something like that.
He spotted his father across the room, and excused himself from the twins. "Ada?"
The king glanced up from his conversation with one of the nobles present. "Legolas! Good evening."
"Good evening, Ada. Can I speak with you?"
"Of course," Thranduil nodded to the noble, and followed Legolas off to the side of the room. "Is something wrong?"
"I have to tell you," Legolas started, stopping as he tried to remember what he'd planned to say. "Ada, you heard about what happened in my room last night?"
"I heard the fire was out of control," the king replied. "But when I saw you earlier, you said you were all right."
"I am...it wasn't a fire."
Thranduil's brow furrowed in concern. "What do you mean?"
"Someone attacked me, last night."
"What?" the king grabbed for the back of a nearby chair to steady himself. "Are you all right? Did they do this to you?" Thranduil turned Legolas' face to the side to study the cuts in his cheek.
"I'm fine. It was...Ada...do you remember when I...when you had to send me away?"
Thranduil closed his eyes. "I do," he said sadly. "It was one of the hardest things I had to do."
"I need to talk to you about it," Legolas explained. He glanced around. The hall was filling up. "Could I come see you tomorrow?" he asked. "In your study, and we could talk then?"
The king looked up. "Very well," he said slowly. "Would you rather talk now? We could leave?"
"No, that isn't necessary," Legolas quickly replied. If he waited he'd have more time to figure out how to explain this to his father. "Tomorrow will be fine."
"Tomorrow, then," Thranduil nodded. He wrapped one arm around Legolas in a half hug, leading him back to the gathering elves.
Legolas politely listened as another noble expressed his concern at the "accident" in Legolas' quarters, and his gratitude that the prince was all right. Then he spotted a familiar face in the crowd, and quickly excused himself before the elf he'd seen could disappear again.
"Thilator?" he called, looking around in surprise. The older elf had disappeared by the time Legolas broke away from his conversation with the nobles.
"Is that little Legolas?"
The prince turned around with a grin to greet his old tutor. "Thilator...I meant to speak with you last night, but I couldn't find you."
"I had business elsewhere," the dark-haired elf explained with a quiet smile. "My, how you've grown...you look just like your father."
Legolas grinned, glancing over at Thranduil. "I suppose I do. How have you been, Thilator?"
The former tutor tilted his head to one side. "I have been well. I daresay you have. My, but we have a lot of things to catch up on."
The prince nodded. "Could we speak after dinner?"
"I'm afraid I have business tonight as well," Thilator replied. "But I could meet you in the gardens tomorrow morning, if you have the time."
Legolas smiled. "I'll meet you then. I look forward to our conversation."
The icy-eyed elf smiled in return. "I do as well."
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AN: I don't know when the next chapter will be up. I mean, it's half-written already, so it might be up Tuesday or Wednesday instead of Thursday.