TRYING TO PUSH THE PAST AWAY
BOOK ONE
DISCLAIMER: I do not own „Lord Of The Rings". Whole recognizable belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. Written only for fun, no money made.
WARNINGS: Drug abuse. Healing themes.
Please, please review some of this. Pretty please?
Chapter 3: A HEALER
/*/
"Wake up" said Neremiel, shaking Legolas gently. "Wake up, sleepyhead!"
Legolas awoke with a jerk, opened his eyes wide and pulled back from the touch instinctively. He was staring at Neremiel with fear.
"Oh... sorry... I didn't mean to..." the girl hesitated, taking the hand away. She stared at the Elf curled on the bed, clearly worried. She wanted badly to kneel near him and caress his cheek to soothe all his stress away, yet from the look of his face she knew she shouldn't.
"It was only a bad dream. I am sorry, Neremiel" Legolas finally replied, as he calmed down a little and shook his head to wake up more. Neremiel only smiled pleasantly and settled for a friendly pat on his hand.
"Don't worry, I am not offended," she told him. "You need to get up now. I am sorry to wake you, as I see that you are still weary, but in half an hour you need to be before Erestor. I think that will be wise, since… well, that's your first day here… he has much to explain, for sure. And maybe he will assign you some tasks for the day." Neremiel said and smiled politely, yet no answer came.
"Are you sure you're fine?" the girl asked, when Legolas neither responded nor made further move to get up.
"Yes," he said only, nodding. He took few deeper breaths and slowly attempted to get up, praying that she left.
"Breakfast is being served already." She told him, walking away hesitantly, still observing him with some suspicion. "Come, there will be something waiting for you."
"Thank you, Neremiel," Legolas nodded and forced himself to smile. Finally she left and closed the door behind her.
Legolas fell back on the bed. The morning pain in his body was becoming worse with every passing day, the dizziness would not go away and the dull headache in the base of his skull was driving him mad. He could barely move under the force of that pain. Even breathing was difficult, as his ribs would not let him get enough air to calm his system.
With shaking hands he reached for the robe he was given yesterday and fumbled for a paper-wrapped sachet with dried leaves, which had been given to him by Moreth, along with strict terms of usage. Legolas knew better than resisting or forgetting these orders. After this mysterious medicine all the pain would fade away, leaving only unpleasant throbbing, breathing would become somewhat easier, headache would disappear and a fever, if he had it, would subside. Now he took one leaf and chewed it hungrily, closing his eyes, trying to calm down the heart hammering in his chest and riding the pain, forcing himself to endure, as he used to do every morning. Slowly, as the sour taste of the leaf filled his mouth, all the symptoms slowly started to evaporate. It became better with time, good enough for Legolas to open his eyes without frowning at the sunlight, then good enough to breathe, then to sit down. Finally Legolas got up and stretched lightly.
It surprised him that he had slept so long. Almost whole previous day, whole night and… which hour was it…? He glanced through the window at the bright sky, searching for the sun. It was almost eight a.m.
Eight? How was it possible that he was allowed to sleep that long? Wasn't he supposed to get up at dawn? Legolas in panic started to dress, grabbing the tunic shakily. Doing that, he quickly inspected his new clothes. Stained, as he supposed, with small crimson dots on his shoulders and back, but difficult to spot. Trying to think reasonably, he inspected the sheets as well, but calmed a little seeing no further blood stains. He folded the covers neatly, placing them on the edge of the bed. What surprised him was a light green woolen blanket that was not here when he went to bed. Or maybe he was too exhausted to notice? His memory played tricks on him in the past and was still doing it occasionally, so Legolas concluded it must have been one of such situations.
How could I have slept so long, he kept asking himself. And in the first day, when he wanted so badly to make a good impression. Cursing his own incompetence and laziness he tried to find the way to the kitchens, reminiscing about yesterday. He wanted to see Moreth, but had not had a chance so far. Last afternoon Legolas ate what he was given in a hurry, afraid that the food could be taken away from him, and almost immediately fell asleep not to wake up even once until now, so exhausted he was. In a real bed. He had never before slept in a bed – now, amazed at this gift and frozen with fear from guilt that he had overslept and disappointed his Master's inferiors, Legolas braced himself for whatever fate should become of this. He only wanted to see Moreth one last time.
/*/
In the kitchens Elven maidens were bustling around and carrying big trays of food into the main hall which was connected to the kitchens with a convenient corridor. Legolas quickly spotted Neremiel. She was slicing tomatoes and arranging them on small plates before her.
"I'm ready", he announced quietly, coming closer to her. She gave him a quick, yet thorough glance, and when she found nothing abnormal in his composure, she smiled and nodded.
"That's good. How was your sleep this night?" she asked, quickly finishing her task and drying her hands in her apron. She grabbed his elbow and led him to the nearest table, then seated on a stool and laid before him the biggest breakfast Legolas had ever seen. For a full minute he did not know what to say, only stared at the offered food.
"Legolas?" Neremiel urged him gently to answer. "Did you sleep well?"
He looked up at her and nodded, but returned to staring at the plate. That was beyond his understanding. The girl sat near him and placed an intrigued look straight in his eyes.
"Neremiel, why so much of it…?" he asked finally. "I ate yesterday, and that was much as well. You cannot give me so much, I know what problem it is, and…"
"Legolas, take a look around." Neremiel interrupted him. The Elf did as he was told, and to his amazement he saw that the Elves sitting along the wooden tables were eating breakfast among laughter and merry talks, their portions were even bigger than his, and they did not hesitate to take a second helping of whatever was presented on the huge plates. In his eyes it looked like a real feast, even if that was just an everyday meal.
"See?" Neremiel smiled. "There is nothing exceptional in your plate." She rose and seeing that he was still not eating, she patted his arm. "Eat, Legolas. It is really tasty."
"You all… eat like that?..." he whispered in awe. Neremiel sighed and squirmed uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. Really flummoxed, she just confirmed, smiled at him sadly and left him to eat in peace.
Legolas eyed his plate suspiciously. There was freshly baked bread, butter, jam, white cheese and fruits along with a glass of warm, sweetened tea with lemon. It was too much for him to eat it all, but he started to dig in without further hesitation. He was hungry and weak, still hurting a bit, and it was a very important day. He couldn't do anything stupid. He had to make a good impression. He had to prove his new Masters that he could be useful; in more ways than one.
/*/
Near the gates the Mirkwood party was preparing to leave. The guards were saddling their combed and fed horses. They had rested in a warm and comfortable stall the previous day and the whole night, so they were ready to undertake another journey.
Having checked for the last time all the packages, as was his duty to do, Moreth counted all the bags and decided it was all in order. He had been left alone near the horses, so he had a little time for himself. At least for now.
Sighing, he sat heavily on the short stone fence around one of the flowerbeds, waiting for the Mirkwood guards to return. It was the time to leave this bright valley for home. They came here in a number of eleven. They will be back in only ten.
Legolas was staying here. His one and only true friend through so many years was forced to stay away, and though his heart bled, Moreth was glad. He took a closer look at this place yesterday evening. After they had been lodged in their rooms, he sharing one with three of the guards, he had been forgotten and left alone to seek, wander and find information. He knew what he was risking, yet the fear of the punishment was smaller than the fear for his friend. He knew Legolas would be treated better here, among those civilized Elves who didn't accept slavery, as he had heard. He remembered from his short childhood that Lothorien also hadn't adhered to slavery. About this land he was uncertain, however. He had heard stories and wanted to know if the rumors were true, so he asked the Elves living here many questions and he finally made himself certain that it was a peaceful land which will offer his friend protection. Salvation even.
Events of the last two weeks were still alive in Moreth's memory. He didn't understand half of them, he couldn't accept even one, but all he knew now and all that counted was that he had safely brought Legolas to Imladris. Here they would help him. They would, sooner or later, discover his remaining injuries, if he had any to that time, which hadn't healed by themselves. That drug was really working. But the state of his mind was heartbreaking; and one day Legolas would not be able to hide the truth any longer. They would know his story, they would know about his imprisonment and solitude, and the greatest harm which could happen to an immortal being, for he would not be able to lie and don't slip on these lies eventually. Moreth sighed. Legolas was stubborn and full of distrust, he would not tell anyone or ask for help. But he would have to. Well, if it had to be done the hard way, then so be it. Here he had a chance to live happier, to start anew. Moreth told him to do that for him and to use that opportunity.
And I have helped his luck as much as I could, no matter how severe the consequences could have been, Moreth thought, getting up. Patting friendly the brown horse on his left, he muttered soft endearments and calming words to the animal.
From a corner of his eye he saw a figure in rich royal robes briskly crossing the sun-filled patio and through the gate, obviously heading in his direction. Startled, Moreth recognized the Elf as the Lord of Imladris himself. He left the horse and knelt on the ground, bowing his head in greeting. What was the noble doing at the courtyard at this hour, he would never know, but he was obliged to show his respect. To Moreth's amazement, Elrond didn't pass him without noticing; he came close and stood right in front of him.
"Good day to you," the High Elf greeted Moreth conversationally. "Please stand, do not kneel before me. What is your name? I remember you from the council hall," Elrond asked kindly.
"My name is Moreth, I am a friend of the slave that has been given to you, my Lord," Moreth answered, bowing his head. Fear mingled with thankfulness and anticipation of the fact the Lord spoke to him. That way he could maybe… ask for taking care of his friend…
"You do not have to bow before me all the time. Don't be scared." Elrond soothed and Moreth lifted his head immediately, wearing a determined expression.
"I am not scared of you, my Lord." He said, sounding almost brave. Elrond gave him a favorable smile.
"That is well, for I have a few questions I don't want you to repeat to anyone. We are alone here for a while, you are safe, no one will know. The guards are being kept preoccupied elsewhere. Will you tell me something?" Moreth nodded quickly. Elrond couldn't help a sad smile, knowing very well from the sudden paleness of the slave's face that this conversation certainly could bring him trouble, proven to him or not.
"You say you are his friend. Then you must know what is happening. Why was I given a slave?" came the slow, worried question. Moreth gave his answer quickly - words slipped from him unchecked, before he started to think - Lord Elrond was the only one he could trust, the one he had to trust, for he could help Legolas.
"As a gift, repayment for Mirkwood's debt, my Lord, the King wanted to show gratitude. The King handed Legolas over for your pleasure and amusement, my Lord, and I know you will keep him for that purpose; this is exactly what the King wanted. He suspected that would break my friend. He is deeply hurt. It won't take long before his mind shatters," Moreth whispered. "If he will be given to the soldiers again, he doesn't stand a chance… Please, my Lord, he will serve you well, only he needs some time to rest and heal…"
"For Valar's sake, what have they done to him? Tell me everything!" Elrond's blood froze at these news. Moreth sighed shakily, nervous.
"He stayed in the dungeons for some time. I don't know much, he never told me what exactly happened, but it was both a punishment and a preparation for his servitude in your realm, my Lord. The soldiers liked to grind him down during the road. I did what I could to help… physically he is mostly alright now, only he has closed his mind from me, from anybody. I couldn't do more than make sure he survived the road. I gave him a drug to dull the pain, he is almost healed. At least he looks so. But I am no healer… I heard that you are, my Lord…"
"I will see to your friend, don't worry. He is under my protection now and he will be taken care of," Elrond assured. "But why him? Who is he? Someone important? A leader of a rebellion? Who is he that King Lathronios wanted to destroy him so badly?"
Moreth held Elrond's eyes locked in a helpless stare.
"I have known him all my life, he's an orphan. Nothing special. The King always liked to have him close, to check on him and punish often for his amusement. And publicly. That's why Legolas had only me, others were afraid to be near him. We learned to live with it. We took it as the King's favorite entertainment, simply."
"Simply," Elrond mocked. Moreth shrugged and hung his head low.
"And I have greetings for you, my Lord." He said quietly. "From the Elf I met in Mirkwood. He said you had once saved his life, my Lord, him and his fellows after a fight with orcs. I don't know his name, but he was quite tall, had long brown hair and sparkling green eyes," Moreth decided to describe him to Elrond. The Elf Lord seemed to remember.
"Lanewel? Is he…" but Elrond stopped suddenly, seeing Moreth's face.
"He is dead, my Lord. I watched him die. He was wounded by the poisoned blade. He told me to do everything I could to bring Legolas here. He said you never refuse to help anyone, my Lord. And he gave me the medicine."
Elrond nodded sadly.
Soon they heard the steps of approaching guards. The Elves from the Mirkwood delegation came to say their farewell and take Moreth with them, so Elrond quickly changed the topic and the attitude, asking what would be the best occupation for his newly received slave. Moreth said something about the horses and stables, but the guards snickered evilly and snorted, giving out an unpleasant laugh and few obscene gestures. One ice cold look was enough to silence them.
Moreth gave Elrond one more desperate glance, begging for help, when they were about to leave.
"Go, one more question and I'll send him to you," Elrond said with authority and the guards left, approaching the horses and leaving Moreth with Elrond once more.
"I can make you stay here if you want," he said to Moreth hurriedly, but the Elf shook his head no.
"I have family in Mirkwood. I want to come back. But I beg you, my Lord. Save my friend," Moreth said, knelt and walked away.
Elrond stared at the leaving group for a while, terrified, puzzled and even more angry at Lathronios than yesterday. Watching from afar he silently prayed to the Valar to save the brave friend of Legolas from all harm and uttered an especially nasty curse on the guards, if they had laid a finger on the blond, frightened child he was given. Their remarks were all too equivocal. Moreth's revelations gave him a broad picture of the cruelty the Elf had to endure. So that was the truth; the rumours were not exaggerated. He had to confirm this. Hell with Glorfindel and his reasonable advices not to push the youngling too far and don't ask him anything. He had to talk with the blond slave as soon as the council session ended.
/*/
Erestor glanced in a direction of the new member of the household. Legolas was preoccupied with the work and stayed close to Neremiel, the only one he knew so far. He didn't seem like making new friends. On the contrary - he looked lost and tired, even if desperate to work and prove useful. When he came and stood before Erestor today morning, Erestor suggested him a walk to the gardens or stables. It was his first day here, he could use this time to know his surroundings better and get familiar with his new home. Legolas obediently disappeared from his line of sight, heading to the gardens. Erestor found him later kneeling near one of the patches. There was a bucket full of weeds on his right; behind him all the tomato bushes were weeded and neatly watered, while Legolas was preparing to move the bucket to the left, to do the cucumbers. When he spotted Erestor, he immediately stood up and bowed low. Only when Erestor disappeared, he dared to come back to work again. It was such a shock to the chief advisor that he didn't say a word.
The weeding was ordered to be done in the following afternoon, when the sun would not be so vicious. The Elves assigned to that task had a happy surprise, seeing that their work had already been half done. Legolas had cleaned two of the biggest patches from the weeds himself, he hadn't even asked for a hoe. Finally Neremiel found him and mercifully took back inside, to give him something to drink at least, mothering over him and asking all the time if he had not got the shock from the heat.
Now Legolas was sitting near the Elf maiden, drying with a dishcloth the freshly washed crockery she was handing him. The work was going rather quickly. Neremiel was trying to drag the new Elf into a conversation, but he had trouble with answering, appeared unwilling and tense.
Erestor could see that the elfling was unwell. He trembled slightly, swayed on his feet whenever he rose and his hands were shaking. Erestor shook his head; it would be wise to put a halt to this and finally take him to Elrond. The council had ended half an hour ago and Elrond had probably managed to eat and rest a little after that meeting. Erestor wanted to give him some more time, but his Lord must have been impatient for the talk with Legolas already anyway. Decision made, Erestor headed towards the two.
As Legolas saw Erestor approaching, he actually panicked, much to Erestor's surprise. A plate he was drying slipped from his hands and shattered into pieces on the stone floor. Legolas gasped in surprise and fell on his knees before Erestor, both to pick up the broken pieces and to apologize. He paled so much that he was white and shook like a leaf on the wind.
"I'm so sorry, so sorry, it won't happen again, I'm sorry…" Legolas exclaimed in fright, collecting the pieces and cutting the inside of his palm by the way. He was trembling all over, repeating his apologies, obviously frightened.
"Legolas, it was an accident, nothing serious," Erestor tried to soothe him and bent to pull the Elf up. Legolas cringed, covering his head with one hand, as if afraid of the blow to come; Erestor stopped suddenly, taken aback.
"I beg your forgiveness, Sir," Legolas whispered, slowly lowering his hand. "I am so really sorry… so sorry for my clumsiness," he sniffed. Erestor could not believe what he was seeing. Legolas started to cry.
"Calm down," Erestor said slowly, lifting both his hands for Legolas to see them. "And stop apologizing. Nothing happened. Stand up. I will help you, alright?" he bent once more and lifted the sobbing Elf up. Neremiel took the broken pieces from Legolas' hand and threw them away to the trash bin, whispering soothingly. She was no less terrified than Erestor was in this moment.
The Elf slowly placed Legolas's hand in his and assessed the state of the bleeding palm. Legolas still refused to stop crying.
"I am sorry, Sir," he was repeating, shaking his head in denial and looking only at the floor. "It won't happen again, I'm sorry… I really can do better, I am sorry…"
"Legolas, stop this. Nothing happened. And let me take care of this," Erestor muttered, brought Legolas' hand upon the washbasin and cleaned the small cuts with little water. He wrapped the hand in a clean cloth which Neremiel gave him and squeezed it tightly to stop the blood from flowing.
"Thank you, Sir… thank you so much… I… am r-really sorry, I apologize sincerely, I…"
"Legolas, I told you stop, it's alright!" Erestor frowned, looking at the elfling. His behavior was not only worrying, it was just unacceptable – the whole kitchens were now looking in their direction, staring at the crying elfling. Yet instead of coaxing Legolas to stop, with his harsh tone Erestor only scared the Elf further, and Legolas saw no other option than to apologize again. Erestor could feel the hand he was holding tremble and the form in front of him slowly cringing in itself, as far away from him as possible. Legolas sobbed anew, his eyes wide in fear.
"I really am sorry… I promise, that was the last time, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
"Oh, but stop immediately!" Erestor shouted, not knowing what else to do. In the second he raised his voice he knew it was a bad idea, for the reaction he elicited was horrible.
In the deadly silence which fell over the kitchens, Legolas covered his mouth by his hand. His eyes widened and glistened with a new wave of upcoming tears, which fell down his cheeks leaving wet trails on the small, thin face. He went down on his knees again and bowed his head low, crossing his wrists on his lap; Erestor wanted to grab him roughly and lift up immediately, but was stopped by silent words:
"I a-apologize once again, Sir, but I have n-no right… to beg for… your forgiveness. I am yours t-to punish as you wish, Sir."
Erestor was terrified and totally dumbfound. He did not know what to say. Neremiel silently put the plate she was holding on the table and only stared. The two had never, ever in their lives thought that somebody could behave like that and be absolutely frightened – of whom? Of good, old Erestor!
"I…" Erestor hesitated. "Legolas, I just… stand up, please" he sighed, and Legolas obeyed immediately, swallowing his tears. When Erestor reached to touch him, he flinched, afraid of the hit. Erestor understood he wouldn't handle the Elf alone. One look at the rest of the household was enough to prompt them that the show was over and they should come back to their obligations. Everyone complied without a moment of delay, settling for glancing over their shoulders.
"Neremiel," Erestor turned quietly to the nearby girl, "come with me. Lord Elrond wanted to see him, but… just… you better come with us," Erestor said, knowing that the girl would understand. If he just marched Legolas away, the poor creature would undoubtedly think he was being led to a punishment.
But even with that caution and gentle voice Legolas would faint if it wasn't for the lithe form of the Elven maiden who supported him at the news of his Master wishing to see him. Now, he would get what he aimed from the very beginning. The punishment for oversleeping, breaking the plate and angering Erestor was coming. Or maybe the Lord had found out his purpose here and wanted to play with him after the dinner…? Was his work unsatisfactory? Hadn't he proved himself good at working only? Of course he hadn't. He had broken the plate. Now he would be thrown out of here.
Neremiel dragged him with her through the corridors behind the quickly marching Erestor. Noiselessly whispering 'no' and shaking his head, in a state of utter shock, Legolas obediently moved his legs. He did not even know how and which way they walked to the Lord's chamber. Just walking behind Erestor in one moment he was in the kitchens, in the other he was standing before the solid, double doors made of dark, carved wood. Erestor ordered them to wait and disappeared behind them.
Neremiel was talking to him all the time in a soothing manner, yet her words did not reach him and sounded like coming from a deep, mossy well. He did not pay attention anyway. That was it. He was being thrown out of Imladris. And he had just believed that he would stay here! When he heard of the delegation leaving, he believed he wouldn't be returned. But no, that would be too much of luck, that simply couldn't be true… Now he would be simply dragged back to that dark forest. Or maybe he would have to catch up with the delegation alone? Or maybe they wouldn't bother at all and simply leave him somewhere in the woods for the wolves to finish?
Erestor reappeared and opened the door wider to let the two in. Neremiel said something to Legolas, but he never understood what was that. She pulled his hand, however, so he figured out that he was to follow her. She led him into the room and left him trembling in the middle, then both she and Erestor disappeared. The door closed with a quiet sound.
Silence.
Legolas could just stand, for he had no strength for anything else. His quiver only increased and cold sweat was pearling on his forehead; his heart raced.
"Legolas?"
That kind, calm voice again, the voice from the council hall. Lord Elrond was talking to him. Come on, idiot! Kneel, bow to him! Legolas scolded himself and immediately knelt, bowing so low then that he thought he would touch the floor with his forehead.
"Oh, Legolas." That voice again. "Stand up. There is no need…" yet the voice trailed off, hesitated, then fell silent. After a minute it repeated the call. Legolas did not react at the first one, nor at the one that followed, cleaving the carpet with his fingers.
Someone knelt near him. His whole system immediately braced itself for a hit and flinched away, but nothing happened; in his confuse and fear he couldn't understand what was going on or how he should react. Why was this powerful Lord kneeling?
He glanced up, but the figure made no further move. The Lord simply was near. He only changed his position to a sitting one, which prompted Legolas that he wanted to spend some more time here. But the Elf did not move or speak a thing still, just sitting nearby. Legolas could feel Elrond looking at him.
The tension was unbearable; he couldn't return the look, and he had no idea what was going on. He wasn't used to something like that. He expected yelling, or a beating, but not this silent presence. What was that?... Would the Lord sit near him like that, if he wanted to yell or beat him…?
Finally Elrond sighed quietly.
"Will you look at me?" the voice asked quietly. No order, no shout. A plea. Yet it took some time before Legolas raised his head a tiny bit and scowled at Elrond from the floor.
The Elf kneeling near him smiled. It was a sad smile, but not a wolfish grin either. Slowly, very slowly, so that Legolas could see it, a hand was extended and the kind, grey eyes asked for permission. The tremble increased, an inner alarm warned to flee, but Legolas was like petrified – he could not move a single limb. He even stopped breathing.
The hand slowly touched his head, long fingers entangled in a blond curtain of his knotted hair and caressed. The hand never delivered a blow. It only stroked steadily up and down his nape, and Legolas thought briefly that the Lord in front of him seemingly had no intention to beat him. If he had, he wouldn't waste precious time on sitting unmoving and stroking him. The touch was steady, very soft and almost comforting. Legolas allowed himself to glance up once again. Still the same calm, sad expression. After another while Legolas's shoulder muscles, tired of the strain, relaxed visibly and he hung his head low. He dared to sigh quietly, which sounded rather like a sob.
"Will you tell me what happened?" Elrond asked quietly. Legolas flinched from the hand on his head, recalling his earlier distress and fear. He raised his frightened eyes on Elrond, silently apologizing again; he knew that an answer was expected of him, but he discovered with shock that he couldn't say a thing. His eyes begged silently. Do not taunt me. Make it quick. If you want to punish me, do it now.
"Easy, elfling. Easy. You dropped a plate, is that correct?" Elrond asked. Legolas nodded, as he could not stammer a thing. Elrond nodded slowly in acknowledgment. "You were scared of Erestor's anger, weren't you?" another frantic nod and the youngling's head came down again.
Elrond sighed. The Elf was too scared to speak, but he wanted to communicate. Elrond decided to carry on with that gentle investigation, then soothe the creature in front of him to the level of ability to speak again. Instantly the Lord knew this could take him the whole evening, for it was like coming closer to a wild, haunted animal.
"And Erestor shouted at you, when you tried to apologize, then brought you here, to me. Right?" the Lord continued. Legolas nodded again, trembling hard as he suspected now the punishment would come.
Elrond fell silent for a while.
"I am not angry." Came the statement finally. "Neither is he."
It had a huge effect on the elfling before him. Legolas raised his eyes full of disbelief and placed his surprised look in Elrond's face. Elrond nodded.
"I'm not angry. You did not drop the plate on purpose, did you?" Legolas shook his head like mad, in a desperate attempt to make Elrond believe him. The Lord raised his hand to silence this mute protests. "So you see. That was an accident. How can I be angry, when that was just an accident? It was not your fault. It happened, but it's no big deal. We have many more plates here. One less will do no harm."
Legolas just stared. He couldn't understand. He has just damaged his Master's possessions. He expected a severe penalty for being so careless. And there this kindly smiling Elf was telling him that it was no big deal.
Elrond endured the glare, then laughed quietly. "Legolas. No punishment," he explained the shortest he could. Only then the elfling made a more oriented face, like he finally realized what he was being told. He thought about it for a while, and finally concluding that the Lord was not jesting, Legolas slowly bowed again, cringing in himself and frowning, trying to fight back the tears. He took his Lord's hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing it thankfully in a mute thank.
"Shush, elfling," Elrond whispered, reaching gently to touch the tense back and stroke delicately. "Shush. Do not be scared. No one is angry at you. No one is going to hurt you. We just don't know how to act," Elrond explained. Legolas glanced at him; Elrond realized that the Elf was listening more intently than he would assume, so he kept talking, doing his best to explain.
"Erestor behaved so strangely, because he did not know what else to do. He has no idea of slavery, he didn't even think that one can be punished for breaking a plate. That was not your fault, Erestor thought you knew that. Your panicked apology and cry made all the kitchens look at you, and Erestor may encounter some unpleasant comments about that he made you cry. He approached you to lead you to me, I wanted to see you. You was scared; but there is no need to be afraid. Shush now, don't cry. If there is something you don't know or understand, you need but to ask. I know it is difficult for you. I know," Elrond persuaded. The slave seemed to calm down systematically under these gentle ministrations; he quieted his sobbing and wiped the tears away with the backs of his hands. Only then Elrond noticed the strange angle of the middle finger in Legolas's left hand - it was probably broken - and the bloodied right palm.
"Calm now?" Elrond asked. Legolas nodded, smiling apologetically. The Lord returned the smile, resuming the stroking and taking Legolas's hand in his instead. Legolas sniffed one more definite time only to fell silent again.
"Will you speak to me now, Legolas?" Elrond asked quietly. The elfling dared a quick glance up and, after a longer while, spoke.
"I am sorry, Master." Legolas stammered. Elrond shook his head.
"I told you there is no need to be sorry. Not your fault. Maybe say something else," Elrond tried, praying for this to work.
"Thank you, Master," Legolas whispered, unable to think out a better answer for his Lord's demands.
"You are welcome, but I mean something else. That topic is ended, we won't return to it anymore," Elrond said and smiled at the elfling. "For example, tell me how are you feeling in your new home. I understand that this first day was difficult for you," he started conversationally. Legolas nodded.
"I feel fine, Master." He said with certainty. "It's good here."
Elrond waited for something more, but no more information came.
"Why?" he asked finally. Legolas thought for a while, uncertain what to say.
"No one beats me," he said finally. "I was given food, clothes, real bed. I could take a bath. E-everyone are kind."
"Do you like Imladris? It's quite different than deep forest of Mirkwood."
"I do," Legolas said. "I like the sun. The… the windows."
Elrond smiled sadly. Mirkwood was simply dark. Legolas must have missed sunlight very badly, for this was the very Elven spirit, to be close to nature and adore its miracles. Elrond wondered where Legolas had been kept in Mirkwood, but it must have been a grim place, when he was happy to be given a real bed.
"I talked with Gwaithtir, the Elf at the border of my land, whom you had met," Elrond said. "He told me you looked unwell. Your friend, Moreth, was also worried about you."
Legolas's eyes widened at the mentioning of his friend. He even dared to glance up for a moment.
"I am a healer, Legolas. I wanted to see you to check if you are alright. Now I can see you're not. What happened to your hand?" Elrond gestured at the broken finger.
Legolas bit his lips.
"I… tripped over… on the stairs." He said finally, not looking at his Master.
"And who pushed you down?" Elrond asked.
"Brellyr."
Elrond sighed sadly. "Did he also hit you in the face?"
Legolas shook his head. "This was Antelas."
Elrond couldn't withhold himself and once again laid a comforting hand on the elfling's back, rubbing in – what he hoped – was a soothing manner. Legolas tensed under his hand, so he abandoned the try.
"I think I can help these marks fade quicker," he said instead and stood up, gesturing at the elfling to do the same. He grasped his forearm, as both his hands were bearing injuries, and led him to the bigger room, the main one of his chambers, where he kept his medical store. He pointed the big, soft armchair. "You can sit here."
Cooperation ended as soon as he said that. Legolas stopped walking, placing his terrified stare at Elrond's face and resisting feebly. Elrond let go of his hand, unwilling to push the elfling too far too quickly. Legolas shook his head in denial.
"What's wrong?" Elrond asked. The elfling shook his head.
"Forbidden… I cannot sit… no…"
Elrond sighed. "I allow you. You can. Sit down."
Legolas sat, all fidgety, staring at Elrond disbelievingly. It was unheard of that a slave could sit down in his Master's presence.
Elrond smiled and walked to his medical desk, where he kept medicines, herbs, jars with ointments and liquids, and even dangerous poisons. That was a wonderful desk, made of dark wood, with carved legs and a similar chair attached to it. On the wall above there were many shelves, reaching almost to the ceiling, containing various ingredients of Elrond's potions.
Now Elrond picked up some bandage, one jar with a white ointment, two thin sticks to stiffen the broken finger, few small cloths made of gauze and a bottle with transparent liquid.
"Now, give me your right hand." Elrond told the Elf, reaching for the bottle and one cloth. He poured some of the smelly concoction on the white surface and gently assessed the cuts.
"Nothing serious, hopefully," he muttered and cleaned the wounds with the cloth. It smarted a little, but when Elrond wrapped the hand gently in bandage, it stopped. "Tomorrow morning you can take the bandage off, for the wounds will heal to that time. Not even a trace left," he smiled. The youngling shyly tested if he could clench his fist and whispered his thanks.
The other hand was a bigger problem. When Elrond touched the swollen finger, he already knew it was surely broken, for Legolas wrenched his hand out, yelping in surprise and cradling his left hand to his chest. Moving as far from Elrond as he possibly could, he did his best to melt into the armchair, pressing his knees to his chest. Elrond suspected a violent reaction and maintained calmness.
"Legolas, your finger is broken. I need to set it for you." he informed the creature. "Give me your hand. What I am planning to do will hurt, but it has to be done."
Legolas shook his head and closed his eyes; Elrond was sure if his hands were alright, he would cover his ears also. He was not in the best mental state. Afraid of any hurt from the hands of any other Elf, he would rather let his finger jut wrongly and damage his hand forever than let Elrond help him.
"Please, Legolas. You want to have a healthy hand like before, do you not?" A nod. "So let me help you. You will hurt yourself if you won't listen to me. I know better," Elrond said seriously. The elfling hesitated.
"Trust me, little one. Trust me."
Slowly the hand was extended. Elrond decided to act immediately, as he saw panic coming, and grabbed the hand delicately.
"I will do it quickly," he said and without any further warning set the finger in its place in one fluid movement. Legolas yelped, but the scream died in a weak sigh as he was shushed and reassured of Elrond's good intentions. The finger was stiffened and wrapped thickly in bandage.
"Now the bone will have a chance to grow properly and join together. It will take some time, but won't be hurting much. If you feel any discomfort about it, tell me and I'll try to remedy it. I will remove the bandages, when the time comes, alright? Don't do it yourself," Elrond advised and patted Legolas head. "You were very brave. Brave little elfling," he smiled, and Legolas relaxed a tiny bit, hearing the praise.
Elrond glanced at the hand once more and inspected it again, for he wanted to be sure he missed nothing. One thing interested him, however. Near the white bandage his own hand was glowing with a dim, delicate elvish glow. It was seen more easily on the white backcloth. But Legolas's aura was almost inexistent. Not even a hint of color.
That seriously worried Elrond, but he did not let himself show it. As for that moment he couldn't see any serious injuries and the Elf looked a bit better than a while ago, crying on the carpet. The awful comments that indicated sexual abuse kept ringing through Elrond's mind, however. He wondered how is he supposed to check he elfling over not to cause another fit of panic. How was he supposed to gently ask him to undress?
"I will take your pulse now, alright?" the Lord told Legolas and put two fingers on his neck to catch the heartbeat better. The poor heart raced still, unable to calm down the worried system. Legolas tried not to think about the Lord touching him and turned his face away in a reflex. Elrond frowned worriedly, his suspicion confirmed. He would have to try something else to check his injuries.
"Please, Legolas. I want to help you, I am a healer," Elrond coaxed. "I will not hurt you. Calm down, your heart is beating very fast. Take a few deep breaths," he said.
Legolas straightened in the armchair, closed his eyes and concentrated at breathing, for he took this advice as an order, simply. Gentle encouragements were much better than shouting, he concluded, trying to control his system as he had been told. This mighty Lord was seemingly very steady person, of small tendency to get angry. If he forgave him breaking the plate, he must really be a calm nature.
The hand holding his own was warm and soft, the touches – brief or very delicate. A healer, he said…? Moreth had mentioned something about a good Lord of this valley, but Legolas had never paid attention nor believed those stories. He hadn't even found enough strength to be thankful for the pitiful tries to lighten the horrible future and give him hope. These lies, even if beautiful, were only lies. They had hurt him more than any others.
But maybe, just maybe, Moreth had not been lying in everything he had told him? Maybe, only a little part of all he had been saying, was true? Legolas opened his eyes and saw that his Master was counting something steadily, looking at the carpet.
A healer. Maybe…? A Master healer would mean considerate punishments.
"I don't like your breathing," Elrond said finally. "It sounds strained. Do your ribs hurt?"
Legolas considered his options. If he said the truth, he would probably have to take his tunic off. He couldn't show all the markings.
"No, Master," he whispered.
Elrond frowned. "You were very exhausted yesterday. You didn't even stir in your sleep when I came to see you yesterday evening. You had a fever. Legolas, it sounds seriously, it means your system is not defending itself as good as it should. If you won't rest much now, you will fall ill."
Legolas swallowed the gasp that threatened to break free at the news of his Master 'coming to see him' 'yesterday evening'. Did he come to demand first service and found me asleep? And he's not furious today? Who is this Elf to react this calmly…?
"I must… rest?" Legolas asked finally, not believing his ears that a Master who should find him new occupations was ordering him to lay down.
"Yes. It would be best if you slept much. And you have to put on weight, that is no discussion. You are much too thin."
Legolas was dumbfound. And speechless.
"What else ails you? I'm sure you have more injuries like a broken finger or a painful, huge bruise. Show me, I want to help you."
The ankle. It was so painful to walk around on it, and surely he could show it; it was only a leg, after all. No other injuries there. And having it stop hurting would help a lot. He leaned to take his boot off and untie the rags keeping it on. Elrond grimaced at the state of his footwear.
"Tomorrow Erestor will lead you to a cobbler and you will get new shoes. These are unfit to walking at all." He said. "You will also need more clothes. And, of course, I would forget… and maybe that as well…to keep you warm…" Elrond started muttering to himself. Legolas glanced at him, uncertain what to do or think of it; his Master seemingly felt a troubled look upon himself, for he smiled and waved his hand dismissively.
"Don't mind that. Tell me instead, do you feel the cold? You was shivering yesterday." Elrond sobered again and rested his vigilant eyes in Legolas's. The elfling lowered his head immediately.
"I do, Master."
Having his worst assumptions confirmed, Elrond felt a shiver down his spine. Poor child, he thought, and watched troubled as Legolas undid the boot finally and rolled his trouser-leg higher, revealing a maltreated foot, with corns on the sole and abrasions creating wounds, abandoned to heal by themselves, but seemingly ineffectively. The ankle was dislocated and swollen to its limits.
"And you were walking like that?" Elrond asked some while of looking later.
"Yes, Master." Legolas said simply. The Lord sighed.
"Does the other foot look the same?" Legolas nodded slowly. "Then take the other boot off as well and show me. It cannot be left like that, this won't heal by itself, didn't you know?"
Legolas avoided his eyes. Elrond sighed; it was a small step forward, Legolas showed him something. "From where this comes from?" he asked.
"I was walking behind a horse, Master."
"Seems like running to me. And stumbling often. What if you could not get up? They dragged you further by the rope tied around your wrists?" Elrond's tone was ironic, disbelieving and outraged. Legolas felt the sting of unease. Elrond was getting angry, and that was not a good sign. What has tempted him to show the ankle? How stupid of him…!
Still, the answer was expected of him, so he said another truthful "yes, Master" and undid the second shoe. The Lord in front of him snorted.
"Bastards," he muttered to himself, rising and disappearing in the other chamber, leaving the totally confused Legolas alone for a while. He returned with a big bowl of water, which was placed on the floor near the armchair. "Put your feet into the water," he said.
A generous amount of tiny, richly scented leaves was added to the water and the smell, so refreshing and comforting, made Legolas's head spin. The water was hot and soothed the poor feet, giving a really pleasant feeling.
"Keep them in the bowl for some time. It will help, trust me. Now tell me truthfully, are you beaten anywhere else?"
Legolas swallowed. He couldn't tell.
"Don't you have more bruises, abrasions, wounds anywhere? Tell me, I can help you. Every injury needs tending." Legolas shut his eyes. Elrond grimly nodded to himself, knowing that the answer was 'yes', but the Elf would not show him anyway. He wondered what else was the reason except his trauma. "Listen, you were abused and it was wrong. Now the Mirkwood Elves are gone, you are safe. You can show me. I will help you."
"I'm fine, Master. There are no more wounds."
"Moreth helped you, right?" Legolas nodded. "Do you want me to give you something for the pain, at least? You must be hurting." Legolas shook his head frantically, afraid of the trap. The Lord could give him anything and say it was a painkiller.
Elrond sighed sadly. He shouldn't expect trust at all.
"Alright. Now answer me… Moreth said you spent some time in the dungeons. No, child, listen… calm down, I won't do anything, I won't touch you… alright?" Elrond moved both his hands away and silently observed the tears that formed again in the dull blue eyes. Finally Legolas nodded his acknowledgment, trying to calm down.
"Easy, easy now. It's all right. Calm down, nothing will happen." Elrond repeated, giving his patient some more time. "Tell me… I want to know if you have been… whipped."
Legolas only trembled. Elrond took it as a yes.
"I should see your back."
The look that Legolas gave him was a mixture of hurt, panic and total resignation. He shook his head in denial, desperately wishing he didn't say anything and didn't show his Master any injury. As he imagined the Lord seeing his inflamed, welted back, all hope left him at once and he felt lightheaded enough to fall from this armchair face down.
"You don't want me to touch you." Elrond said quietly, but continued with more urgency. "It's alright, you have the right to be scared. Now, if I give you a special salve, will you apply it to your back by yourself next time you're bathing? It's important. You have to do this tomorrow morning."
Legolas opened his eyes in shock. The Lord wasn't insisting? Was he interested only in the injury, anything else? He nodded hopefully, sniffing loudly and giving his new Master a wide-eyed stare.
"Good. I need to prepare something to set your ankle later, so please excuse me." Elrond smiled and went to his desk, leaving Legolas alone for a moment. The Elf watched his Master bustle near the desk.
Soft knocking sounded and the Lord called to enter. The blond, handsome Elf from the council hall appeared, smiling negligently; he walked closer to Legolas, who immediately tried to stand up, but was gently seated back in the armchair. The slave refused to look at him and bowed his head low.
"What do we have here?" Glorfindel chuckled kindly. "Our newest citizen. My name is Glorfindel, it is nice to meet you, little one. You look a bit better than yesterday; was your day well?"
Legolas nodded quickly, biting his lower lip. Glorfindel glanced at Elrond uncertainly, and the Lord came closer, bringing with him supplies he needed.
"Is it something serious?" the blond asked, pointing the bandages.
"No," Elrond answered in Legolas's stead, "The right hand will heal in no time, the broken finger will need a few weeks however. The ankle is dislocated and swollen, it needs setting. Legolas was walking on it all the time, so…"
"…it's bad?"
"…not the best." Elrond sighed. "Imagine this: Erestor ran into my chamber some time ago, totally frightened, saying that our friend here scared him to the core. He said that Legolas had dropped a plate accidentally. Poor creature thought Erestor was going to kill him for that," he said in a light tone, settling for lifting the atmosphere a little. Glorfindel smiled kindly.
"We do not kill Elves," he said, laughing quietly. "And for sure we do not kill anyone for breaking even hundreds of plates."
"Oh, but Legolas understands that. Does he?" Elrond asked, trying to catch an eye contact with the Elf. Legolas nodded. "And he understands that no one is angry at him?" Another nod. "And he understands that he doesn't have to be afraid any more?" A pause, then the briefest of nods came. Glorfindel scrubbed the back of his head.
"Does Legolas speak?" he muttered quietly.
Elrond spared him a long glance. He took the smelly liquid again, wetted a cloth and told Legolas to lean in. The gash on his forehead was given Elrond's full attention: it was cleaned properly and some greenish unguent was smeared over it with a tiny wooden paddle. Then the healer took the soft cloth he had prepared and gathering a generous amount of another ointment on the cloth's surface, he put it in the youngling's hand to lead it to his bruised cheek.
"There. The substance will let the bruise disappear," he told him and stroked the blond head gently. "Hold it like this for a while."
Legolas nodded, smiled sadly and curled in himself, pressing the cloth to his cheek. Elrond decided to leave him here for a moment and find out what Glorfindel wanted from him, to let the elfling sit in peace. The warm water with athelas needed to have some time to work on poor feet. He told Legolas to wait and walked away with Glorfindel. Legolas dared a sigh of relief when the two Lords left him; Elrond did not miss it. If anything, his worry only heightened.
"He doesn't look good," Glorfindel stated the obvious.
"Oh really? This child is intimidated past any of my expectations," Elrond whispered. "He went hysterical over an accident. Can you imagine what they did to him to break him into this level? What the possible punishment would be in Mirkwood?"
Glorfindel shrugged helplessly. He glanced at the elfling's direction. Legolas was nursing his cheek, checking the bandages on his left hand and the sticks holding the broken finger stiffened. Glorfindel thought that he may see something like this for the first time in his life. He was wrong; in Mirkwood a fight for survival was a daily basis. Many a time one needed to help his friend in case of an injury, and broken limbs were not rare either, so that they had to know how to tend to this kind of wound as well. But Legolas has never seen a gauze as thin as mist and as white as snow, he never knew the healing touch of Elrond's knowing hands and had never suspected that the ointment could actually help him. He tested everything cautiously, uncertain and full of distrust.
"Anyway, you wanted something from me, my friend," Elrond interrupted Glorfindel's musings. "What was that? I wanted to see to his ankle, and then lead him downstairs, but otherwise my time is your time."
"I just wanted to keep you company and talk with you a little. I can wait. Or maybe you want me to go? For I don't know if Legolas can handle an audience."
"The more normal we behave around him, the more normal he will get with time." Elrond said. He gave his friend a meaningful glance and took a white, thick towel from a cupboard.
In that towel both Legolas's feet were wrapped and dried delicately. The Elf wanted to do this himself, but as his hands were bandaged, Elrond didn't let him. Giving a soothing warning the Lord longed the ankle in place and made a proper, wide compress, pouring on its inner surface some smelly ointments and concoctions to recede the swelling. Wholly wrapped in bandage, finally stiffened and secure, the ankle had a chance to heal. The same went for the rest of the foot; it was wrapped in bandage, special oil applied and the wounds tended.
"Alright. Give me the cloth now," he instructed the youngling and Legolas gave him the cloth obediently. Elrond wiped the last remnants of the ointment from his cheek and throw the cloth away after the usage. "Come now. I will take you downstairs. Have you eaten supper already?"
Legolas shook his head no.
"Then we will go to the kitchens. You must have gone hungry by now." Elrond smiled, but Legolas shook his head again. "You're not? When have you eaten last time?" Elrond inquired.
"In the morning, Master," Legolas whispered.
"Haven't you eaten dinner?"
"No."
"Why?" Elrond asked, stopping.
"Because… I thought… I am allowed to eat only once a day, Master," Legolas explained quietly. Elrond sighed at that.
"No. You were allowed to eat once a day in Mirkwood. Here you will eat more," Elrond said determinedly, feeling growing anger at King Lathronios. "Here you will eat at least three times a day. You are to attend the meals that are held in the hall."
"Three…?" Legolas repeated, dazed.
"Yes. Three. Or more, if you wish. You will not be hungry in my house."
Legolas said nothing at that and let his new, strange Master to lead him. It was weird to walk with a stiffened leg like that, but soon he developed a rhythm and discovered that walking was less painful then. Glorfindel bid him good night and they walked out.
Elrond led Legolas to the kitchen; the supper had ended a long time before, and the rooms were mostly empty, but one plump Elven woman with a braid around her head was still bustling around, humming quietly. Elrond smiled, seeing her. He was glad. He had always liked to be in a presence of Belithravien, for she was not only kind and open-hearted, but also reasonable and practical like a good housewife.
"Belithravien," Elrond said. "Can we count on something to eat? I know the time is late, and you have already cleaned after supper, but I'm sure you can find something, right? Please," he asked politely. "I have someone hungry here." Legolas glanced at his Lord suspiciously, not quite believing his friendly tone and a smile, but said nothing.
"Oh, my Lord. What I am to do now? We had salmon for the supper. I thought it will be to your liking, and you didn't even appear." Belithravien said grumpily, brandishing with the dishcloth dangerously.
"Erestor brought me a meal upstairs. It was delicious, Belithravien, but I couldn't appear at the supper, the councilmen consumed all my time." Elrond said.
"I always repeat that, you don't have even time to go and eat with everyone, you will work yourself to death, my Lord! It is burning the candle on both ends." Belithravien fussed over Elrond and seated him at the table.
"Actually I might only want to take something with me, because Glorfindel is awaiting me in my chamber," Elrond smiled apologetically, seeing how she scowled. "But this little Elf would appreciate a supper. Here," and he showed her Legolas, who was all the time hiding behind the broad form of Elrond. As Belithravien saw the skinny Elf, she threw up her hands in despair.
"Skin and bones!" she exclaimed. "You are this new one, right?" she grabbed Legolas's arm and pulled him towards herself, assessing, shaking her head and making displeased sounds at his appearance. "Come here, son, I shall make you something tasty. Just wait a little, sweetheart," she told him and put in front of them trays with bread and butter, then two mugs with warm milk. Soon jam appeared, hard and white cheese, some ham and few sausages left after supper, vegetables and fruits. Belithravien was just about making scrambled eggs, when Elrond stopped her, seeing the stunned and disbelieving Legolas's expression.
"Thank you, Belithravien, thank you so much. That will be more than enough. Come, sit with us," he invited the woman and smiling kindly, moved the tray with bread closer to Legolas. The Elf took one slice shakily and put on his plate. Receiving Elrond's permission, he reached for the ham and put one slice on the top of his bread, then uncertainly lifted the sandwich to his mouth.
Belithravien observed the Elf all the time, but said nothing. She just glanced at Elrond, who nodded sadly. Not waiting for anything more, Belithravien took another slice of bread, this time the bigger one, and started to make a 'proper' sandwich herself, with many colorful ingredients chosen from the table. When done, she put it on the elfling's plate. Legolas thanked her silently, then asked for permission in his Master's eyes. Elrond slowly extended a hand and began stroking the fair head steadily.
"I have a request, Belithravien. Please, take care of this Elf, and make certain that he eats properly and attends all meals, will you do it for me?" Elrond asked, watching Legolas.
"Of course I will, my Lord." Belithravien said seriously. "I will take care of you, sweetheart. Don't worry," she turned to the Elf and Legolas smiled thankfully, but had not the courage to look into her eyes any longer and bent his head.
"He has eaten only once a day so far," Elrond informed the woman. "So don't force him to eat big meals, please. Bit after bit we will teach him to eat normally again. I'm afraid that's not the only sufficient change, but always it is a step forward."
Legolas gave him a frightened look. Elrond wasn't sure if he understood him the way he wanted.
After a supper Elrond walked with Legolas to the sleeping area, where he had slept the night before. The round room was dark and airy, as few windows were opened, so the Lord closed them and lit one candelabra of wax candles. They gave much of the warm, orange light and soon the atmosphere brightened a little. Yet Legolas was shivering.
"Are you cold?" Elrond asked and saw the Elf nod. "Elves do not feel cold. It worries me that you do. Has it always been like this?"
"Yes, Master," Legolas confirmed, rubbing his arms. Elrond checked the elfling's forehead, searching for fever, but this time he found none. The previous temperature must have been just exhaustion, then.
"Erestor said he would see to that someone changed your bedsheets. You need a thicker layer, so instead of a blanket you will have an eiderdown," Elrond said and prepared the little bed.
Legolas thanked his Master solemnly. He just prayed for him to leave, for undressing in front of him would be something terrible. Elrond knew he couldn't push the elfling too far, he already spent much time with him that day and the slave was undoubtedly scared of the powerful Master's presence. Seeing his distress, Elrond kept his distance.
"Neremiel left for home some time ago, but she will wake you tomorrow morning, like today. Belithravien will remind her. Now you're alone, but soon a few Elves will return from the patrol and sleep here. You won't be alone for long. Do you need anything?" he asked.
"No, Master, thank you," the Elf said, eyes still observing the floor. Elrond reached and lifted his chin delicately.
"Don't be scared. Today you are weary and still weak after the journey… and the treatment of Mirkwood's guards. That is why I would want you to sleep now, Legolas. You need much rest. Do not get up earlier than Neremiel tells you to do." The Lord said. Legolas gave him another incredulous look. "We will talk another time. I have some questions that you can answer. I would like to know your story. And we have to discuss the details of your stay." Elrond smiled encouragingly.
"Will I…" Legolas hesitated, for he was speaking out of turn, and asking questions was not something allowed and free to do. His domain was to listen. Yet Elrond urged him to ask.
"…will I stay here, Master?"
"Do you want to?"
Legolas saw concern in his Master's eyes. This had to be a trick of traitorous candlelight that he looked so worried about his answer, it had to.
"Yes."
"You will stay here, Legolas. Goodnight, child." Elrond stroked Legolas's head one last time, then he walked away quietly.
Legolas watched the empty doors and fought a battle with himself. He couldn't understand the behavior of his new Master, so warm-hearted, so kind, so merciful. No one was ever as good to him. He did not shout at him, he did not order him a beating. He didn't do any threatening move nor indicated that he is interested in using him sexually. He talked to him like he was not a dirty slave, only a normal Elf, like those surrounding him. He allowed him to sit in his presence, more – he sat near him on the floor. He gave him food. He never once hit him, never once…
This could mean many things. Some of them wasn't appealing to the frightened elfling. Most probably, Elrond wanted to make Legolas trust him, to stop fear him, so that he could talk with him more easily and touch him without worry that he would flee or fight. That way he would spare himself trouble with breaking him to his will the rough way; that always took some time, as for Legolas's experience. He had no idea what Elrond wanted of him, but he suspected he would not like it. The Lord needed his cooperation and wanted to buy it with kindness.
Well, Legolas was close to accepting the offer. No more beatings or shouts were worth every price. He was so tired, so exhausted with that day, fear and stress, and all of his injuries which were starting to remind him of his beaten body. I knew what I was coming here for, Legolas thought, touching the new eiderdown he was given. Still, Master Elrond with his gentle hands and calming voice was if not a beckoning image, then at least bearable. I am just a slave, and he will take me soon enough. So be it.
The soft, fluffy fabric under his fingers suddenly made him realize he was given so much in so short a time, even if he behaved unacceptably. Wasn't a price for all of it a minor one? First sob arouse in his chest and threatened to tear out of him, when he spread the blankets over himself and sunk in the pillows, which were also in a greater number than yesterday.
"You are good to me, Master," Legolas whispered, closing his eyes. Whatever that kindness meant, whatever… he stayed with me all evening, Legolas mused, feeling tears slipping away from under his eyelids. He helped. A healer. A Master. He fed me, he promised not to hit me, he said I would stay here. A good Master…
Muffling the sounds in the pillow, Legolas gave up any tries to collect himself.
Elrond walked away slowly, abandoning the doors and audible sounds of crying coming from the room. He realized the Elf did not believe him when he said it would be better from now on and he had nothing to fear. In the same time Elrond had a heavy feeling that he should not expect any trust just yet. He should be prepared for a long fight for Legolas' normality. It required time. Elrond sighed; this is going to be so difficult, good Valar… So difficult.