Home Sweet Home
Thank you Manwaithiel Melda for reviewing last chapter!
Part Seven
"Ada? Are you busy?" Legolas asked tentatively, as he pushed open the door to his father's study.
Thranduil immediately dropped the letter he was reading and looked up at his youngest son. "Of course I'm not busy, Legolas. When did you get back?" He discretely pushed the letter under a pile of unused parchment nearby, before motioning to Legolas to sit down.
"Not long ago, Ada." Legolas explained as he sat. "Less than an hour ago. But I went to speak with Maegóre first, then got caught up in the corridor by Kemen on my way here."
Thranduil nodded. "Are you alright?" He asked anxiously. "I presume you took so long coming home because you were looking for the Dwarf. Did you- is he-?"
"No, I didn't find him. I looked everywhere...but I couldn't find him." Legolas looked down quickly, to hide the tears that were forming in his eyes. After everything they had been through, for this to happen was just unthinkable. Gimli must be truly mad at him for Legolas had no idea what had happened. "I must go to Erebor." Legolas continued quietly. "I have to see if he is there or not-"
"Legolas." Thranduil said impatiently. "Your brother has already gone to Erebor. Master Gimli is not there."
"I know Maegóre said he went to the mountain, Ada." Legolas muttered as he looked up, confident that all traces of tears were gone.
His father's eyes narrowed. "Yes, he did. But I can see that you don't believe him. You clearly think he lied. Do you think I raise my children to lie, Legolas?" Thranduil was unable to keep the anger completely out of his voice.
Legolas sighed. "No, I don't, but sometimes I think you are blinded by trust for them." He regretted it the instant he had said it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, Ada."
"I see." Thranduil said tersely. "In that case, there are some old books and papers that need storing somewhere for the time being. Go and find somewhere to put them all - they are waiting for you in the library. When you have finished moving them, please come back here. I'm sure I can find something else for you to do."
Legolas's heart sank. He had not been punished for misbehaving since he was an Elfling. He felt very childish for saying what he had. Still, there was no going back now. "Alright, Adar." He said resignedly, preparing to do the errand.
Thranduil stopped him just before he opened the door. "Legolas, do you remember when Elladan and Elrohir were brought here for a visit when you were an Elfling? You had never met a foreigner before. Maegóre had already met them, and for a time they all went off together and he forgot about you. You were so upset that your brother had found some others to play with and talk to that you said some very unpleasant things which you regretted later, but came out before you could stop them. The things you said hurt both Maegóre and the twins, although you were young and inexperienced. You are now much closer to the twins than your brother is, but you were still hurt that you were being left out at the time." He looked very pointedly at Legolas, who nodded.
"I remember." Legolas said swiftly, before leaving the room. He understood what his father was saying, but he still felt that the circumstance were slightly different. This wasn't just some childish feud but a full-blown dispute.
He had no idea where to store the old books and papers (temporarily or not). To be honest, he didn't quite understand why they couldn't just stay in the library or be moved to the archives, but he supposed he had to be disciplined somehow. There were hardly any free rooms in the palace at all, apart from the guest bedrooms in his parent's quarters, which were pretty much never used.
Legolas shrugged. If that was where they could go, that was where they would go. Feeling slightly better, he made his way to the library. He almost felt like whistling. It had been too long since he had visited the library, which was strange. Legolas loved to read, when he had time. Although he had his own private library, he preferred the public one. It was much bigger, and also far more inviting than his own empty, spacious one.
As he pushed open the door to the library, Parmahir - the main librarian - looked up from the book he was leafing through in surprise.
"Legolas," He smiled. "It has been too long since you were last here."
"I know." Legolas agreed regretfully. "But I'm afraid I have not come her for my own pleasure, but to do something for my Adar."
"Ah, I believe I know what you speak of." Parmahir nodded in understanding. "You are here for the books and papers?" When Legolas confirmed that he was, Parmahir immediately led him around several shelves of books, many cabinets of particularly valuable papers and a few stacks of used parchment. They also went past past a handful of Elves enjoying their time reading, or writing, but they were quiet. Eventually, the pair arrived at an alcove. Parmahir pointed. "There are, maybe, seven stacks of papers that you father doesn't want in here any more, and the rest of it is the books."
Legolas tried to swallow his horror at this statement. He had not expected there to be this many to move. In fact it looked rather daunting.
"Of course. Thank-you." He said, and climbed the five or so steps to the alcove. Picking up a large stack of papers, he cursed the pact that his parent's rooms were two floors up and in the opposite end of the palace. It was going to take him all afternoon!
Gimli lay in the darkness, unmoving. This was not for lack of trying, of course. He had wriggled and wormed and tossed and turned so much he had blisters covering almost every inch of his poor, starved and dehydrated body. The rope that bound him was thick and rough. He could have handled this - he was a Dwarf, after all - but they were wound so tightly around his body that the skin had rubbed off under them and the ropes were now soaked through with blood.
He would have given his right, aching arm for even just a drop of water.
Gimli didn't allow himself to think about Legolas. Instead, he thought of what was enivitably going to happen to him that night. It could be nothing good, although the Dwarf had no idea what it could be. Some form of torture, perhaps. He doubted it. There was nothing that could be said to him that would hurt him any more than he had been in that respect, and he was so numb that it would take hours of any torture to make him feel the slightest thing.
There was a feeling gnawing away at his insides. Whenever he heard a sound - which was admittedly not often - he felt something rise rapidly inside him. It would eventually subdue, but it never went away - it was always there. It had taken him a while to realize what it was. He was scared. No, not scared. Terrified. And as much as it hurt him to admit it, he couldn't deny it. His captor was unpredictable. Anything could be around the corner. Gimli, helpless, exhausted, pathetic, could do naught but wait for it to come to him.
As Gimli lay on the hard, cold floor with his back aching and a pain in his neck. It was hard to imagine anyone, least of all the ever-cheerful Legolas, playing with toys in this room as a small child at all.
Legolas set down the last lot of books with a sigh of relief. If he didn't hurry, he would be late for dinner, which was about to be served. The Elf knew from past expirience that it was not a good idea to be late for a meal. Still, it didn't mean he didn't have time for one last gaze around the room.
He had chosen his own old bedroom, from when he was a young Elfling, to house the unwanted objects. It had been decades since he had last set foot in here, and he was surprised by how many happy memories came flooding into his mind now that he was back. He could remember his mother tucking him in at night, his father teaching him to write, his brother reading to him, playing with his friends and a whole heap of other things.
One thing the room didn't have was a balcony, something he'd always been upset about. Apparently, he hadn't been trusted enough not to fall off of the balcony until he came of age. It had always upset him. The bedroom was set deeper into the palace than many of the others, and it had only one window, in the main room. The washroom, closet and toyroom were all windowless, but it had been amended for by the sheer amount of lighting that had been used.
His old, childish furniture that had long since become too small for him was still in this room, unused and growing dusty. The bed, which had been so soft and comfy. The armchair, made to just the right size for him on his twentieth birthday*. He sighed, and deciding that he could afford to wait around just a little longer, decided to go have a look at his old closet.
The room was small. Bigger than the bathroom, but less than half as large as the toyroom, it had been just right for a child. However, Legolas was surprised to find bags and piles and stacks of his old toys and games in the room. He hadn't known they'd been moved, but then again, he hadn't been around much lately. Having them in the closet did make more sense than if they'd been in the toyroom. Many of his old games and such had been thrown away over the years because they'd become too old, or broken, to be kept. Some of them had survived the years, however, and they had stayed where they came from. Until they'd been relocated to the wardrobe, anyway.
Smiling - and knowing full well that he could maybe battle Orcs, but would never be able to battle his way through the playthings - he turned and walked over to the room that he had spent hours on end playing in. He grasped the door handle and turned it.
Gimli cringed as the familiar, telltale click sounded that told him the door was being opened. It was true that time was passing painfully slowly, but surely it was not evening time yet. Surely he had not arrived yet. He was surprised when a small amount of light flooded the otherwise dark room. The door had swung fully open for once. Now, a tall and lithe figure stood silhouetted against the darkness. Gimli could not see the Elf's features, but he was smart enough to know who it was. The captor.
He tried to swallow, but found his mouth was too dry. He only made and odd glugging noise, rather like the sound a frog deprived of its pond would make.
Whatever it was, it couldn't last forever; he used that information as his last, small bit of comfort.
As soon as he heard the noise, Legolas was on his guard. He had yet to light the wall mounted lanterns, and he couldn't see through the rather disconcerting gloom. He reflectively felt for his bow, and mentally hit himself when he realized all his weapons were still in his room. The noise - a strange, throaty, frog-like sound - was unlike anything he had ever heard before.
Carefully, he felt along the wall for the lantern, and when his finger met it, he lit it. Slowly, the flame flickered to life. Legolas turned to inspect the room, see what dastardly creature had dared inhabit his toyroom.
It took a few moment for his eyes to settle on the lump in the middle of the room. Suddenly, as he began believing what he was seeing, he felt his breathing intensify, his knees go a bit weaker and his heart pound against his rib cage. Before he knew it, he was falling into the center of the room, reaching out to the unresponsive lump, but it was as if he was watching out of someone else's eyes, not his own. He couldn't quite take in what had just happened.
Gimli's eyes snapped shut the moment the lantern flickered on. After days in darkness and silence he was almost blinded by just the gentle illumination of one large candle. He held in on himself, unable to rise enough energy in himself to curl into a ball, but enough to keep still and quiet. He felt rather than heard the soft thump of a body coming down on the floor next to him, the slight crack as bone hit stone.
He concentrated on closing in on himself so that the captor couldn't possibly get at him, refusing to think about anything, just concentrating on the images that swiled in front of his dizzy head. There was Aragorn...his father...Éowyn...Legolas...Legolas...Legolas...
The realization that his eyes were open and he was still seeing Legolas was slow coming. The voices that had otherwise been missing came back, quietly at first but become louder, almost deafening to someone who had heard nothing but the soft, taunting voice of his captor for the last few days. Legolas's mouth was moving in time to the voices, which he realized was not plural, there was just one voice: Legolas.
He blinked his eyes rapidly, willing the fog to clear faster as his friends face came into clear view. He could the the regret and guilt already etched into the Elf's face, and the distraught tone in his voice. The tears that formed in haunted, bright eyes was not imaginary either. He knew, then, that he should never have doubted Legolas, that they were still friends. Stronger now than before, even. Finally Legolas's voice broke, the tears fell free and the eyes ran themselves over the rest of the Dwarfs body.
Gimli relaxed from the tightness he had unknowingly drawn himself into and released himself. His body went limp, he was no longer taunt. Far from assuring Legolas that Gimli was there, it did the opposite.
As the Dwarf's body went limp and still under Legolas's hands, he cried out, unable to stop himself. Legolas could only think that he had come so close to saving the Dwarf, only to have him slip away at the last moment, how wrong it was, how unfair.
Gimli heard the anguished words that fell from Legolas's mouth, and suddenly understood what had happened. He would not allow Legolas to believe he was dead, because he wasn't. Far from it; he had rarely felt so alive. Gimli used all his strength and will to muster up enough effort to speak, loudly, and be heard. He finally got there.
"I...lad...s'alright, now, s'alright. I'm here. I'm alive."
The captor blinked. Frowned. Something was wrong. He could feel it, in his heart. And he knew, instantly, that it had something to do with the Dwarf. More specifically, the Dwarf and Legolas. Something tight was caught in his throat. He had to stop it - the Dwarf was his! That night, it would all be over and the Dwarf would be dead, of not physically then mentally at least. It had to be stopped.
He jumped up, ignoring all reason, running through out of the dining hall and through the palace, to the king's rooms. He ignored the calls of his name from the rest of the Elves in the dining hall. His entirety was focused solely on getting to the toyroom before it was too late. The whispers and talkings that followed him out of the hall, through the corridors. He took the stairs three at a time, so intent was he to reach his destination. Pushing past, pushing through groups of servants he continued on his way, not pausing to listen to the complaints thrown at him or even to say sorry. He cared about only one thing at that moment.
"Gimli, I...I don't know..." Legolas breathed. It was all he could thing of to do at that point. Legolas couldn't think straight. There was so much running through his head ---
Bang! Both Elf and Dwarf jumped at the slamming of the door - the one to Legolas's old room. In just a second, Legolas would meet the captor, the one who had done this to his friend. In a surge of anger he had the courage to stand up, to face this evil person. Who could do this, though? Who would? He could think of no-one, for no Elf was that cruel - before he could stop it, one name ran across his mind. Maegóre.
"No- no! I won't let it-" Legolas whispered fiercely to himself. But then the captor was there in the doorway, behind him - Legolas could feel it. He turned, fully prepared to meet the captor head on, enraged enough to fight til death if need be --- but then he saw the face on the one standing before him and was so shocked he felt his knees wobble slightly again.
Through his astonishment, he just managed to stutter out the name of the Elf before him.
"K-Kemen?"
* In human terms this would make him four or five :) (I read that Elves come of age at 50, but don't become a fully sized elf until they are 100, which I suppose would be their second coming of age, kinda like how we have 18 and 21 as our major birthdays.)
EEEEEEEEEEKKKKK!!!!!
Ahem. So glad I finally got to this part!!!!!!
OK, now, be honest - who actually saw that coming? I know everyone thought it was Maegóre, but I never actually said the captors name :D
Review! Please! Any feedback whatsoever would really make my day! (Except flames - but certainly ConCrit!)
But thanks for reading, everyone!