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: Another cliffhanger.
Please review. I ask very nicely.^^
Chapter 6: DARKNESS. DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE
/*/
The following day was a bit better. Legolas woke up in the early morning, unsure of how long he had been asleep. As Elrond was busy with Glorfindel, the person who was sitting near his bed was little Neremiel. Legolas woke up to find her dozing off in a chair.
"N-Neremiel?" he whispered hoarsely, uncertain if she was awake or not. She jumped instantly at the sound of his voice.
"Legolas, you woke up! That is very good. How are you feeling?" she exclaimed, leaned in above him and straightened his hair.
"Better, thank you," he smiled weakly. Trying to move he found that he was still tied up.
"I will call Lord Elrond, I will be right back," she said quickly and almost ran out off the room. When she returned, the kind Elf Lord and the golden haired one from the council hall were with her. The one Legolas knew as his Master sat on the edge of the bed and examined him gently, murmuring a kind greeting.
"Welcome back to the conscious world, Legolas," he said taking his temperature and then the pulse. "You have slept long. I was beginning to worry, but as I see that was unnecessarily," chuckled the Elf Lord. Legolas lowered his eyes, not knowing what else to do.
"Well, how are you feeling?" the golden one asked, sitting on the other side of the bed. Legolas turned to him.
"I feel quite well… my Lord, thank you," he said politely as he had been taught.
"Glorfindel meant how are you truly feeling, Legolas," Elrond said lifting the covers and checking on the bandages. Some of them were bloodstained still, but the wounds had ceased to bleed seriously and only produced small, red spots on a white bandage surface.
"I feel… like passing out… and there is a strange feeling in my stomach," Legolas said quietly, suddenly ashamed.
"I suppose it's hunger," Elrond said quietly, "for the nausea should have disappeared by now. The drug has left your system permanently and you're clear." The Lord smiled briefly. "Neremiel, could you please bring a tray of breakfast?"
"Certainly, my Lord," she bowed and disappeared. Elrond took a well-known spoon and gave Legolas little water, which he accepted thankfully.
"You are at the edge of dehydration. You have to drink much, Legolas." His Master said with a following caress of his head. "And you are in a desperate need of nourishment."
He signaled Glorfindel to help him and reached for scissors to cut the bonds on Legolas' wrists.
"I need to change your bandages now," he said. "Let's see how is it healing."
Glorfindel reached out with his arms and without any effort lifted Legolas up into a sitting position. The Elf felt nothing at first, but then dizziness settled in and he kept thinking only about lying back again. He didn't dare to complain, however. The thought of eating something was a frightening idea too. His appetite was gone long before coming to Imladris, and he was afraid he would not be able to keep anything down.
"You are so thin, Legolas," Elrond muttered cleansing the wounds on his back. "I can count all of your bones, every single one. With so little fat you will quickly get bedsores… But we will remedy that," Elrond said calmly, content with the state of Legolas' wounds. "I know you are dizzy, just bear with me a while longer. I'm almost finished. Lean on Glorfindel until then, you can do this, really."
His hands worked quickly and with skill, rewrapping the chest from shoulders to waist tightly. Soon the blond Elf Lord lowered Legolas down again and he was granted a moment of relief when his head hit the pillows. He took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes.
"Thank you so much, Master, my Lord," he said quietly eyeing each one of them in turn. Elrond hushed him gently.
"You will thank me after I have healed you." he smiled. Legolas wanted to argue, but he had no strength. He just nodded and closed his eyes tiredly again.
"Try not to sleep yet," Glorfindel advised him. "You need to eat something first."
That alerted Legolas. He didn't feel like eating anything.
"Master…" the word slipped from his mouth before he thought better to shut it. Elrond gave him a questioning look. Knowing how much he could dare, Legolas spoke. "I don't think I can…" he stammered awkwardly, prepared for an angry reaction, but Elrond surprised him again.
"You have to eat to live and to get better. You just have to. You will not make it without nourishment, you haven't eaten for over two days." Elrond said patiently, lifting the covers and settling on changing the bandages on his lower body and legs.
"Two… days?" Legolas stammered. He counted in his head desperately and could not find memories of those days. "How…?" he asked quietly, more himself than the Lords. The golden one answered him nevertheless.
"That's right. It was before noon in last Oranor (1), you walked to the stables and fainted. I carried you here, to Elrond. He discovered your injuries and understood you were taking a drug. Your reserve has ended, didn't it?" he asked gently. Legolas blushed crimson and nodded, suspecting the worst at that confession.
"You see, this drug has saved your life. Moreth saved your life in Mirkwood, giving it to you." Elrond joined into the explanation. "You were in too much pain to endure, and the infection would kill you in days if not for those leaves. But it's a potent, dangerous drug, Legolas. You ran out of it and not only the pain returned. You went through the withdrawal."
Legolas glanced at one Elf Lord, then at the other. He did not know how to react. He remembered nothing of what they were saying. It sounded unbelievable.
"That's why you lost consciousness, and why you felt so bad when you woke for the first time. You were abed for almost three days, it's Orgaladhad (2). As I told you, you were still in shock and did not understand you are safe… so we tied you to the bed. So that you couldn't hurt yourself any more." Elrond ended.
He uncovered the rest of his body and laid a white towel on the level of Legolas' hips to cover his nakedness from view. From the involuntary sigh of relief he knew that made Legolas feel a bit more comfortable. He lifted his right leg and told Glorfindel to hold it for a while.
"Help me please, I will have a better access," Elrond asked. Legolas complied and let the healer cut the bandage on his thigh. This wound was still big and was healing slowly. It hurt, but not as much as it did before. Elrond delicately cleansed it and put more of the antiseptic salve on its surface.
"Don't be afraid." That golden one spoke again. His hands were warm, large and were holding his leg raised with perfect stillness. What was his name, Legolas had forgotten. "It's going to be all right. Elrond is the best of healers. And you are strong indeed. Now it will only get better."
Legolas nodded miserably. His eyes were teary and itched, so he clumsily tried to wipe the tears away. Elrond did it for him, using the edge of his soft sleeve. Legolas couldn't help staring at his Master at such behaviour; this wasn't normal, this wasn't normal at all. And yet, he was so past tired to care. The two didn't want to beat him. They were gentle enough, considerate. Legolas had no strength to spare, so he didn't let himself succumb to fear, which would drain him again.
Having changed all the bandages, Elrond brought a thin, white robe, delicate as mist, and put it over Legolas' head. The Elf was lifted and helped to dress, then soothed anew. Touching the silk with slightly shaking fingers, Legolas thanked sincerely; he had never been clad in something so luxurious. That was almost… improper.
The door creaked open and Neremiel came in with a tray of breakfast. There was a generous amount of porridge, herbal tea, some white, freshly baked rolls and two apples: it was the biggest breakfast Legolas had ever seen in his life. It all smelled wonderfully, but his stomach clenched painfully at the thought of eating.
Neremiel smiled at Legolas one last time before she was dismissed, closing the door behind her. That golden haired one, Glorfindel, if Legolas recalled correctly, helped him sit again and climbed on the bed, sitting behind him. That way Legolas had something to lean on. Although he was afraid, he did so, because all the strength he had left was quickly evaporating and a serious dizziness would not allow him to sit on his own. He could feel cold sweat pearling on his forehead already. Glorfindel wiped it away, using a moistened cloth, and repeated the action from time to time.
"Now," Elrond said taking the porridge and a spoon on his lap. "It's high time for your breakfast, I think."
Legolas squirmed in Glorfindel's hold and bit his lower lip as if he tried to seal his lips. He didn't dare to object again, but his fear - in best case reluctance - was clearly seen. Elrond just patiently waited for explanations.
"I just… I can't, I… I'm afraid I cannot keep it down," Legolas said, closing his eyes in shame.
"It's just porridge. There is nothing easier on the stomach. And I shall feed you slowly, in small portions. That way you should be able to keep it down, don't worry. Why are you so afraid?" The Lord asked, spreading a towel on Legolas' knees on top of the covers.
"I will never manage to eat it all, Master," Legolas said, fighting a wave of utter panic at the thought of the eminent punishment.
"You don't have to eat it all!" Elrond exclaimed. "It is much for a healthy Elf, and you are ill. Besides, I suppose that your stomach is much smaller than any stomach in Imladris. I can see that you are not used to eating much."
"I don't… have to eat everything?" Legolas asked hesitantly.
"Of course not. But eat as much as you can. We need you to get stronger." Elrond lifted the small spoon with porridge to Legolas's mouth. He opened up obediently, but took the food with reluctance.
The porridge wasn't a very tasty dish, but for Legolas it was delicious. He hadn't had a morsel in his mouth and only now he understood how direly he needed food. Elrond was patient and gentle as he fed him slowly. He didn't appear to be angry even when Legolas spilled some onto the towel, much to the elfling's relief. Glorfindel was silent, but held Legolas securely and cooled his brow now and then, which was bringing great relief. Truth be told, it was distracting to have the two Lords watching him so close. But still, spoon after spoon Legolas ate almost half of the small bowl and the tray was taken away.
After cleaning his face, Elrond repeated the procedure with coaxing Legolas to drink something. Elrond reached for a mug of tea and moved it near the Elf's dry lips. The young one was very thirsty and accepted the liquid thankfully.
"Better now?" the Elf Lord asked as he returned the mug to the table and refilled it. Legolas had been so thirsty that he drank it all. Seeing him still eyeing the mug, Elrond gave him more. Legolas drank in a hurry as if afraid the mug would be taken away from him. He began to choke as tea went down the wrong way.
"Not so fast, not so fast..." Elrond began. "I know you are thirsty but your lungs do not need the additional damage and you will make yourself sick. We need you to keep that food down, and there is always more tea."
The fair Elf nodded and licked his lips greedily to feel the taste and wetness again. He felt constantly thirsty. He glanced at the mug again, but without much hope he would be given more. His suspicions were confirmed when Elrond noiselessly whispered 'later', shaking his head.
"Now lie back and try to get some rest." Elrond said, reclining the figure on the bed with the help of his blond seneschal. Legolas sighed tiredly and closed his eyes briefly, but shot them open as he realized he was not given leave to sleep again; murmuring soothing endearments, Elrond gradually calmed the youngster down.
He raked a hand through the golden mane in a consulate gesture. "I will wait until you are asleep." He said. "It will get better now. I promise."
"Thank you… Master," Legolas stammered. Suddenly from the hand emanated the well-known coolness and Legolas almost willingly succumbed to the coming darkness. He embraced his oblivion with relief.
Only then Glorfindel tied him up again; Elrond was not entirely sure about this, as he wanted to gain Legolas' trust, but decided that the blond Lord was right. Leaving the stricken Elf alone, Elrond cast a glance on him. How deadly he looked.
/*/
Elrond came in the evening to inspect and examine Legolas again. The Elf lay in an uneasy sleep, tossing a bit. Elrond woke him, unwilling to let him live through another nightmare.
"Legolas, wake up," Elrond coaxed. "Wake up for me. Wake up," he soothed, stroking the blond head. Legolas' eyes snapped open; he blinked rapidly, jerked to escape the caressing hand, tugging on the bonds. He was clearly very agitated.
"It's only me, calm down," Elrond said, withdrawing his hand.
"M-master…?" Legolas asked, his voice breaking; he was still blinking and shaking his head like mad.
"Yes, it's me. What's wrong?" Elrond asked quickly, alarmed by his strange behavior. Legolas's eyes were darting around in panic, and although he had them open, he seemingly didn't know where Elrond was sitting. "I'm here," the Lord prompted, turning Legolas' face to himself. "What is it? Tell me."
"I don't see well," he stammered. "Only stains and shadows. I- I can't… I can't see," he mewled, trying to sit down. The bonds were holding him, however. Elrond burst into action, seeing the fit of panic coming.
"Legolas, stop moving," he said fiercely, pressing his hands to his chest to force him down. "Lie still or I will not be able to help you."
Legolas froze. He only shivered in barely restrained fear, when Elrond leaned and inspected his eyes. Just as Elrond predicted, only cleansing them did not help much; they were fiery red and full of thick, brownish puss. At the time Elrond saw it first he did not want to apply another antiseptic as it would collide with the other medicaments given to the Elf. He also hoped that the inflamed eyes would heal by themselves due to unusual Elven healing abilities aided by the other antiseptics, which affected the eyes as well. Unfortunately, this was not enough. Elrond sighed as he ended the examination. Holding the thin hand tightly he leaned to him and began to instruct.
"Your eyes are not damaged, it's only the inflammation and swelling. It will recede after but little of my help. I understand that you're scared because you cannot see. But you are safe, and no harm will come to you. You are safe and cared about," he said steadily. "I have to fetch some supplies to be able to help you. If I leave you and go to the other room for a moment, will you start to panic?"
Legolas trembled hard, but bravely shook his head no. Elrond knew he was lying, but now he had no other choice than to leave the Elf. He rose and assured him that it would take only a minute. He talked the whole time he was in the other room so that Legolas could hear his voice and know he was not far away, so that he had something to hold on to.
Elrond was back with a cup of herbal tea, a small flask with a blue liquid and a clean cloth immersed in a bowl of water.
"I'm back," he informed. Legolas sighed with obvious relief. Elrond took the cloth and first cleaned the inflamed corners. If was bringing great relief, as Legolas leaned into his touch and didn't even complain at the cold water. He was still trembling however, and his hands were clenched tightly on the bonds restricting their movements. His mouth was pursed tight, yet it only showed better the quivering and tiny grimace. It was not a grimace of pain. It had to be fright.
"I am here, little one, all is well… let me," Elrond said turning his face so that he had a better access to the other eye.
A desperate mewl, quiet, but in the same time more terrifying, slipped from Legolas, obviously against his will, for he bit down on his lips hard enough to draw blood. Before Elrond could attempt to soothe him, a strong shudder went through the Elf and he whimpered anew.
"I can't… I can't take it any more," Elrond heard the terrified whisper followed by a sob. He realized that this time he would witness the breakdown, for it was just too much. Legolas' face shrank visibly, the grimace deepened and he could not fight back the tears any more.
"Shush Legolas, don't cry, it's important," Elrond in hurry tried to think out something, anything to distract him enough to calm him down, but to no avail. "Legolas, don't cry, you're undoing my work. And remember, it can only get better now…"
"It won't! No, no, please… Master, I don't…"
"Shush now. Open your eyes, I have to apply a medicament. Open your eyes," Elrond ordered a bit harsher, hoping that this would bring the Elf under control. He dried his eyes. Legolas complied, forcing himself to be still, if anything only more terrified at his Master's risen tone. Using the tiny wooden stick, Elrond applied the drops to the first eye with the fluid he had prepared. Legolas tossed and jerked violently, giving out the startled sound; the feeling was unpleasant enough to make him lose his composure. He closed his eyes shut, cringing as much as he could in his present position, totally confused and scared to the core. Nothing that Elrond said or did calmed him down.
"Legolas, it's alright, it's alright now… lie still. Come now, control yourself," Elrond hoped to do the other eye, but Legolas struggled further. That he couldn't move was only adding to his distress.
"It's for your own good, and you know it," Elrond said, trying to sound reasonable. "Legolas, little one, calm down…" he muttered without much hope, yet seeing this was not going to work, he laid the utensils back on the table. Well, it was inevitable.
"I can't! I can't…" the Elf sobbed, thrashing no less than before. "Please, don't do it… don't, just leave me alone… What, what do you want from me? Why are you keeping me alive…? The useless slave is killed, that's the first rule! Please, please… I want to die, please… make it stop, make it stop…! Why do you torture me by keeping me alive?" Legolas actually screamed, choking on the words.
Elrond let the Elf go. For a moment he did not know what to do with his hands, so he just settled for massaging his brow, as he always did when nervous. Glorfindel and Erestor rushed through the door at the screams, but did not intervene as Elrond gestured them to keep silent; they just watched as Legolas tried fruitlessly to free himself, sobbing and writhing restlessly on the bed. No one spoke a word; the two at the doors only glanced at each other with horror. For a moment, just a brief, tiny second, they had a withering impression that Elrond looked defeated.
Legolas stopped moving gradually. His strength was leaving him bit by bit, making him lie limply. Although he could not see, red dots found their way under his eyelids. Finally, resigned, he gave out the last broken sigh and sniffed loudly. All he was able to do was panting. Heavily.
"I am useless to you. That is the first rule, a useless slave is killed, why don't you do it?" he repeated faintly. "Please… just… end this pain…"
Elrond and his advisors went mute. They knew that sooner or later such an outburst would appear; it was so frightening and frustrating to be at someone's mercy. Any Elf, blessed with immortality and flawless health, should ever be brought to such a state of mind and such degradation. It was unimaginable to be unable to move and too weak to even eat by himself, as a result of abuse from the hands of his own people.
Lord Elrond was speechless. It wasn't much to say, after all. He suspected that a warm touch would calm Legolas somehow, but he was afraid that it would cause another fit of panic. He didn't want to speak first, for he would have to react at this heartbreaking plea, and that was beyond any possibilities.
A long time Legolas just lay, strong shivers wreaking his body and his heart beating frantically, struggling like a bird would in a cage much too tight for it. The three was observing him soundlessly. Something huge has just happened. Something has broken in this fair creature, something disappeared into nothingness, leaving an empty place. How desperate must he have been if he yelled at his own Master? He didn't expect anything else but the immediate execution, or maybe a punishment hard enough to kill him, only slower. This is a brink, Glorfindel thought. He has nothing left. No strength, no thought, no memory, no will. If something does not happen now, he will just…
"What have I done," Legolas sobbed suddenly, fear creeping into his voice. "What have I done… Master… are you here…? Please don't go…"
"I am here." Elrond whispered, taking his hand in his. "I am here, little leaf."
A sound escaped Legolas's mouth; a choked sigh, resembling a mewl. Relief washing over him was so great that he felt lightheaded. Feeling that Elrond leaned to him and embraced him carefully, Legolas didn't flinch; he subconsciously accepted, trying to get closer to that embrace, to draw comfort from it. He found no strength in himself even to pray in thanks. How could it be, he couldn't understand, but this Master, kind and merciful Master was holding him, stroking his head in a steady pattern, accepting him, understanding.
No rejection.
"Calm now?" his Master whispered. Legolas nodded.
Elrond knew that the sooner he tended to the inflammation, the better, but he couldn't just proceed when all this happened. Holding the terrified, haunted creature close, he was whispering straight to his ear a soothing stream of comforting words. They were meant only for him to hear. Legolas was still shivering, but was too tired to panic again. Resigned and stunned with relief like after a hit in the head, he surrendered to the attention Elrond was giving him freely and sighed deeply. In the air he smelled the scent Elrond's hair had and felt the warmth emanating from his Master hovering above him. His knowing hands cradled him securely. Suddenly he felt he had to apologize for all he screamed.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to Elrond. The Lord shook his head.
"Do not be. There is nothing to forgive."
"I am sorry."
Elrond caressed the youngling's furrowed brow. He only sighed, as there was nothing wise he could tell him now.
"Can I tend to your eyes now?" he asked after a moment of silence. Legolas nodded, too resigned to fight. Elrond wiped the eyes and cleansed them once again, then took the blue vial and the stick for the second time.
"I have to apply the drops to your eyes once more. You cried all the drug out. I know it is unpleasant, but please, force yourself under control." A grimace appeared again, but Legolas bravely opened his eyes and let Elrond do what he needed to. He hated the feeling of a drop of oily liquid falling into his eye and blinked madly after each apply; Elrond let him do this, as this was even better. The blinking spread the medicament all over the eye's surface.
"The worst is over," the Lord said soothingly. "Now, I made a special tea for you. You won't drink it, calm down. It's the leaves which are important. I will wrap them in small pieces of gauze and lay upon your eyelids, then I will have to bandage your head, unfortunately. That way they will be in place so the herbs can do their work. In the morning we will see how it is healing, alright?"
This short plan sounded reasonable. Legolas did not know how he would ever cope with the inability to see for those long night hours, but he was ready to endure it. Elrond was gentle when he laid the small bundles on his eyelids and then bandaged his eyes, creating a headband.
Now the most difficult part was coming. He was to be left alone. Almost subconsciously, working on its own, his hand reached for Elrond's sleeve when he was taking his hand out of his hair, but met only air. Terrified with his own boldness, Legolas froze; his movement didn't remain unnoticed.
Yet Elrond surprised him once again beyond possibility to understand. He cut his bonds, pulled Legolas up and let him cling to his robes, to hide the bandaged head in the broad chest. Embracing Legolas tightly he whispered soothing words about all possible things the fair Elf could do when he was well again. He whispered about trees, waterfalls, mountains with hidden caves, lakes full of fish and the crowded market down in the city. He spoke about birdsong, about the taste of the summer's first wild strawberries and of billion of flowers blossoming only in the evening.
Legolas clung to his Master for dear life. He was his only anchor. As was showed, Legolas was frightened right out of his mind at being blind. Elrond petted the tearstreaked face, wondering what had traumatized him so much. What had Mirkwood done to him that he hated the darkness so much and was petrified at the mere thought about it.
Elrond delicately stroked the hands clenched on the front of his rich robes. Legolas' grip was so tight that his knuckles whitened. Elrond shook his head.
"The darkness cannot have you, my little leaf. I am here and I am not going anywhere. Your eyes are healing. Let your mind rest now, just listen to what I say." Elrond coaxed. "Personally I think you should go to find an old oak in the western part of Imladris, behind the gardens. It is unbelievably big. I wonder if it is older than Imladris itself? It could have been a high tree already, when we were erecting the first buildings…"
/*/
The night outside the window was steamy. The very air seemed to hang unmoving in the space, embracing each thing, every blade of grass, every tiny branch, every delicate carving of the wooden balustrade of Glorfindel's balcony. The atmosphere was heavy. In all possible means, for the two sitting near the wall on the floor was mournfully passing the bottle of wine from one to the other and saying nothing, their mood as dampened as their skin.
"I don't know how he is doing this," Erestor spoke first. "I wouldn't handle him. This was terrifying."
"You know, he will behave in this way for the moment," Glorfindel said after a while. "He is… to say it delicately…"
"Knocked out."
"Yeah. That's the word."
They sat in silence, taking comfort in the presence of another and the bottle, being emptied systematically. Glorfindel was faintly beginning to worry what would be when the wine runs out, but he counted that he had something left yet in his clever hiding place behind a bookshelf.
"He won't probably sleep tonight." Erestor mused.
Glorfindel raised an eyebrow, not quite knowing which one it was referred to.
"Elrond. He won't sleep tonight. He will look after him."
"Sure."
Erestor sighed impatiently.
"I'm trying as I might to provoke the conversation. Do I have to be brutal?" Glorfindel glanced at his companion. "What if the boy dies?"
The blond Lord shook his beautiful head. "No, the threat is gone now. He will…"
"It is not gone and you know what I'm speaking about."
"If he fades like Celebrian, Elrond will… bugger. The history likes to repeat herself." Glorfindel rubbed his brow at the mere thought at the pain it would cause. He could almost feel the load of grief and baseless self accusations coming closer and closer to his best friend. He couldn't save her, he couldn't save him. A bad healer. A bad husband. Selfish in his wishes. Devoid of love and deservedly so…
"Bugger, bugger. What do we do?"
"And what can we do? We can only care for the Elf and help Elrond. Take over much of his duties, so that he can take the time. And do not break down. So that he can break down when the time comes and collect himself later using our support."
Erestor nodded and gulped down the rest of the wine.
"I don't know how is he doing this. Legolas is… after such a scene I am exhausted, mentally. And as you said, there will be more of that."
"Elrond is a healer."
That sentence included all Glorfindel needed to say.
"You haven't been yourself lately, you know?"
That question froze the blood in the famous veins for a second. Just a second. Then it started to circle again, quite normally, and Glorfindel wondered how on Arda his voice could sound so steady.
"I'm just tired, Erestor. And I am mentally exhausted, too."
"You going to be alright?"
No, I'm not.
"Sure."
/*/
It wasn't possible for things to go that swiftly and easy as they went from that point, but, surprisingly, they did.
Legolas woke the next day showing obvious signs of fatigue, weariness, blood loss, dehydration and the last remnants of infection, but with no fever. He was calm and coherent. He asked for water, much water, ate what was brought for him, bravely endured changing the bandages. He was so exhausted that he fell asleep after that immediately. But he woke after two hours, asked for water again and then stayed awake another hour. His wounds were healing slower than they would on any other Elf, but they were healing properly.
All night he slept quietly and without waking once.
The next day looked similar. Waking up, water, change of bandages, a light meal, sleep. And again, again and again until that recovery circle stopped and Legolas for the first time sat by himself on the bed. Elrond found him like that, leaning on the bedpost, sitting as comfortably as the bandages and bindings would allow, looking in the window direction. It seemed like he had awoken some time ago and was waiting patiently for his Master to come.
The bandage which tied his wrists and ankles to the bed seemingly wasn't needed any more. After the last fit of panic Legolas went strangely still and calm, agreeing on his fate and everything Glorfindel or Elrond wanted to do to him. This indifference worried Elrond somehow, but he saw no symptoms of depression or fading. Finally the Lord relaxed; he understood that his patient was too fatigued to stay awake through most of last week, and so slept off the worst physical and mental pain that withdrawal would cause. For this one blessing he was immensely grateful. The fits of panic ceased and Legolas became more stabilized as he understood and accepted that Moreth's drug will never again be used on him. Elrond explained why he must never again allow the drug to enter his system and the Elf seemed to understand; if he wanted to plead for the magical medicine before, he abandoned the idea due to this knowledge and out of genuine fear of his Master.
But generally Legolas appeared a lot calmer, at ease with all circumstances, accepting his Master's touch and obeying his will in everything. If he was scared of something, he only trembled, lying with wide eyes and following every move of the healer's hands; but never once he dared to object.
He also never allowed himself to call someone, even if he was badly thirsty or very uncomfortable, he waited with singular patience until someone found it fit to check on him. Asked why he never called anyone when he needed to, he answered that he wouldn't dare to disturb. This wasn't convenient at all, for Elrond must had been guessing all probable needs of his patient and checked on him twice as often as he should. If he was constantly glancing in the water direction, that meant he was thirsty. If he avoided his Master's eyes and tensed on the bed, keeping his knees together, he probably had to be carried to the bathroom.
Elrond suspected that this passive resistance came both from fear and trust. Fear – for he was uncertain still if he won't get punished or yelled at if he demands someone come and help him drink. Trust – for he suspected that if he waited long enough, he would get what he wanted, assuming from the kindness surrounding him as far. He tested his new superiors to check how much they will allow him. And Elrond let him do it. It was understandable that this creature wanted interest and care without asking for it. And it was more than understandable that he was afraid. Elrond felt it only proper to be the one who cares for this creature now, after a long life of abuse and hurt, since the fate brought Legolas to Imladris in all too obvious fashion. It was like screaming to Elrond's ear: 'he is given to you, you take care of him'.
Legolas also wanted to be at least tiny bit more self-dependant. He waited until Elrond or Glorfindel went out of the room to cover himself more or change his position into a comfortable one. The healer was glad, these attempts to crawl back into life were precious. He decided to take the risk and take the bonds off. That gave Legolas more freedom.
And he used it immediately, for as the visible, obvious obstacle disappeared, he found it proper or even among the line of an unspoken order to try to get up. At first he had no strength and all he could do was to sit down or lay back again. But he could drink and eat by himself and lie on his side, which was a more natural position of his sleep.
What he wanted the most, however, was to be able to visit the bathroom by himself, with no one looking at him or holding him. He simply couldn't cope with this: even the most shameful of actions weren't spared from audience. Elrond explained and reassured, but for naught; being an Elf, clean and covert by his nature, and being a slave, embarrassed and afraid, he prayed for his strength to return even if only for these short times when Elrond was carrying him, wrapped in a bed sheet, to the clean, white room.
That was precisely why the next breakdown had to appear. This time it was Glorfindel's due to watch over Legolas and Erestor came down to call him. The Lord was just heading upstairs, when Legolas decided to try and get to the bathroom.
He wasn't able to stand up at first, but the determination was still big enough to carry him. The disaster came a bit later, for before he even managed to walk out of the room he lost all his strength and fell on the floor with a dull thud, having no support or something to hold on to. The pain blinded him for a moment, throbbing in his ribs, head, thigh and the ankle, blocked breathing and deafened.
After it passed, Legolas began to crawl. Few more meters and the dizziness became constant, too strong to handle, the pressure seemed to cleave his skull in two and blood flew out of his nose, staining the floor and his white sleeping gown. There was no way to cover this deed. Shaken by sudden panic, he just fainted.
Legolas woke in the bathroom at the water which splashed on his face and neck. Opening his eyes he saw Lord Glorfindel hovering above him and shaking his head worriedly, but with a smile.
"How come," he said, "you always faint on my shift."
Legolas froze. He didn't know what to do.
"Don't worry, nothing happened. I have cleaned both you and the floor. It's alright."
The Elf struggled to sit up on the cold floor and found he was naked, so he curled as best as he could to cover himself. The movement drained him. He realized that he didn't want to pee any more. Great, he thought, simply wonderful, just… just great! The first tears appeared unwelcome, and he wiped them away roughly, with anger. Now how could I?
"If you feel better, I suggest to return to bed," Glorfindel said quietly, wrapping him loosely in a big towel. "Don't cry. Nothing happened, really. I should have been there earlier. My fault."
Legolas turned his watery eyes to the mighty hero who has just said it was his fault. Seeing the look Glorfindel laughed sadly. "Yes, that happens sometimes, when apart of my brilliance I fail at something." He met the typical stare of an abused horse, resigned and full of grief. No point in trying to light up the mood, then.
"I know how difficult it is for you, little one." He said with empathy. "But you must listen to Elrond when he says 'no getting up'. You are simply still too weak. Promise me that you won't try to get up without someone watching over you. You have earned a few more bruises, nose bleeding, faint and aggravated ribcage by this escapade. Your word, Legolas."
"I swear. I am sorry, so sorry, I really…"
"Shush now. I hold you to your promise, it's all right now. There," Glorfindel delicately stored him on the bed and helped to dress in a new gown. "Here you go. Now, I won't tell Elrond, so please, stop crying."
Legolas indeed stopped from the shock.
"He wouldn't be angry anyway, but to make you feel better I will keep my mouth shut. Sounds better?"
Legolas laughed nervously and nodded through the tears, wiping them away with the top of his hand. He apologized and thanked in turn, not knowing what to say, both relieved and ashamed. Glorfindel dismissed his embarrassment with the explanation and assurance that there was nothing shameful or disgusting in him, for he was just a very ill Elf, who as for his state was really doing well. Soon he dragged him into a light conversation, as Legolas wasn't sleepy. That dissolved the tension, for Glorfindel managed to make the Elf smile shyly once or twice.
Elrond saw the two in the middle of that conversation and just stared at them for a moment, pleasantly surprised. Legolas was responding quite normally, having his head down, true, but he was smiling. Smiling, Valar! And he was asking something from time to time. A wonderful sight to behold, indeed.
"What had happened to my floor?" Elrond asked some time later.
"Nothing serious." Glorfindel smiled knowingly. "Only, Elrond…"
"Yes?"
"Let him stand on his own and tend to himself in a bathroom. He will manage that minute alone. This is really too hard on him."
Elrond nodded slowly. "My mistake," he said quietly.
"No, our mistake. I should have been here earlier, but I got indulged in a talk." He smiled bitterly. "But you know, he will be better soon. He's quite an interesting Elf, as I assume from that short talk. He's by no means stupid or unintelligent."
"Yes, you're right. Only he's too scared to speak."
"Maybe I will bring him a light, humorous book to read, how do you think? To kill the time. Don't give him anything of yours, for it will antagonize books to him," he laughed.
Yet the book, when it appeared on Legolas' nightstand, was left untouched. Only sometimes the boy took it in his hand and admired the picture on the cover, staring at it with sad eyes full of longing.
/*/
Legolas quickly got bedsores after being confined to bed for longer than he supposed he would ever be. Sleeping became a problem and so did lying still. Even if he tried to hide it, Elrond found out easily and had to apply special balms and ointments to his patient's upper back, thighs and buttocks. This wasn't pleasant for the little Elf. He lay quietly, his whole body rigid, forcing himself to endure the slow, circle movements of Elrond's hands. He was trying as he might to avoid laying on his stomach and fought to move the pillow away from his face as far as he could. This arouse questions. Questions which demanded an answer, yet were impossible to sound out.
Elrond couldn't force himself to ask if Legolas had been raped. He thought he knew the answer. He only counted that it had not happened repeatedly, he hoped that this child wasn't turned out into a toy for betters to use. He suspected that Lathronios supposed him to carry on with this abuse, but Elrond couldn't force himself to ask what role he was intended to play in Legolas' life. He could imagine the reaction.
However, Legolas started the conversation himself; maybe not directly, but one evening he asked about his uncertain future, trying not to tremble too much from dread at the answer.
"What will happen with me now, Master?" he said wearily. Elrond stopped arranging his utensils in the medical pack and looked at his patient vigilantly.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked.
"I mean… what have you decided to do with me now, Master?"
Elrond frowned. So the time came to start this conversation. Maybe it was a good thing, too.
"Actually, I wanted to speak with you about it, only you were much too fragile. I wanted you to get better first." Legolas nodded, feeling a sting of unease. Now he would find out his fate. He trusted this strange Lord, his new, weird Master, who wasn't like any he knew. Still, he feared him, for the mere authority was enough for Legolas to cringe under his look. Maybe this will not be as bad, he tried to tell himself, maybe I will only stay with him. Being so considerate a healer he would not make one a whore of Imladris, wouldn't he…?
Elrond could sense the inner turmoil in his patient and wondered at its source, for he had done everything possible to show the Elf only gentleness and care. He decided to start cautiously and appear as calm as possible.
"Could you answer me a few questions first?" he asked and the Elf nodded twice. "Alright. Your answers may give me the knowledge I need, for I'm not entirely sure I understand everything what happened in so short a time. For you see, I was given an unusual gift." Elrond smiled, observing Legolas' eyes. They held only well taught obedience.
"First. You were a slave in Mirkwood, that is obvious."
"Yes, Master."
"For how long?"
Silence. Legolas glued his eyes to the wall before him and obviously counted something.
"I… don't know." He said finally, very quietly. "My whole life. I don't remember time without slavery. But I don't exactly know how old I am."
Elrond stared.
"You don't know?" he asked. Legolas confirmed. "Wait, wait… you were kidnapped and enslaved, am I right?"
"No, Master. I was born in Mirkwood."
Elrond processed that thought in his head. Countless obstacles arose in his mind, but he dismissed them one by one. Without proper information he could solve no problems.
"Tell me about your parents." He demanded.
Legolas squirmed. His eyes rested briefly on his patient Master, but then bore into the covers as he started to nervously fold the fabric on his lap in tiny ruffles.
"My mum… died giving birth to me. I don't know much. About my father… for he left her… with me… he was exiled from Mirkwood. He…" Legolas swallowed thickly, then glanced at Elrond again. He was aware in what light this story was presenting him. "…he was a criminal, Master. I don't know anything else, no one wanted to tell me."
"So who took care of you?" Elrond asked gently.
"I remember many women. From the kitchens, mostly. I spent much time in the kitchens. They fed me, they dressed me. Especially two… Red Titinne and the cook, Maerwen. I had many mothers."
"Red Titinne?" Elrond asked, surprised. Legolas nodded.
"Everyone called her thus."
Elrond sighed. "So you have never known normal life." He said quietly. "Small wonder you react this way. It all must seem unbelievable for you, isn't it? This bright land, no slaves around, me acting like a merciful druid, right…?" He smiled bitterly. Legolas' confusion reached its peak now.
"Yes, Master. I don't understand it at all." After a while of hesitation he dared to add: "It's not normal, Master."
"Oh, but you are wrong. This is perfectly how the other great Elven realms are functioning. We do not adhere to slavery, not in Imladris, nor in Lothorien, nor anywhere else. There are no slaves in Imladris, Legolas. This rule includes you." Elrond said.
Legolas' face remained blank for a while, but it was quickly replaced by a look of horror. His face shrank and his eyes widened to their limits.
"You are… you are sending me back, Master," he whispered. "You won't keep me. You don't want me. You will send me back, right?"
Elrond was close to panicking himself, for another hysteria would surely end in a disaster for this little creature. He wanted to reach for the thin shoulders and pull him close, but stopped in time, for Legolas wouldn't take it smoothly.
"No, no, no, I would never send you back," he said quickly. "Not to Mirkwood! Not after what they had done to you. Calm down, Legolas." The Elf sighed and nodded, rubbing his flushed face with the back of his hand.
"So… then…" he started, without looking at his Master.
"…then we have to discuss what to do now. The first and the most important thing is, as there is no slavery here, you are not a slave anymore." Elrond met a dumbfounded look. "Let me explain. You are free. No one can decide about you, save yourself. You can go and do as you wish. No one can threaten you, or order you to do anything anymore. You have no Master. You are your own Master now."
Legolas bent his head and glanced at Elrond tolerantly.
"But… what will you have me do now, Master? How do you want me to serve you?" he said.
"Have you heard nothing of what I said before? Lathronios gave you to me, but my wish is to free you. Legolas, I signed the document ensuring your freedom, you are legally free, you are not a slave anymore!" Elrond exclaimed. Legolas gave him a blunt, unyielding look.
"I… am not…?" he stammered eventually.
"Yes." Elrond smiled. "First you have to get well and gain some strength, but then you can go where you want to." he said, reaching to stroke the blond mane, quite pleased; delivering these news was not so hard, he concluded. He couldn't be more wrong.
"Free?..." Legolas stammered with effort, as if in deep shock. The news should have made him happy, Elrond thought. So he was in unbelievable surprise when tears appeared in the blue orbs along with a deeply frightened expression on the pale face.
"Legolas…?"
"What will happen with me now?..." he said, his lips quivering. "Where should I go? What should I do? I don't… don't know…"
Utterly dazed, Elrond found the quivering shoulders and gave them a consulate squeeze.
"All is well… You can stay here if you want, you don't have to go anywhere, I am not throwing you out!" Elrond said and Legolas immediately raised his eyes.
"Here?" he repeated, dazed. "May I?"
"Of course you may. You will get better, I promise. Then we will find you a room to live in and a work to do. Maybe in the stables, I heard you like the horses. There is nothing to fear, I will take care of you, elfling."
"As… my Master?" Legolas asked, with a hopeful note in his voice.
Elrond froze. He couldn't believe how much this Elf was beaten down into submission and now he did not know what to tell him.
"Not as your Master, as your protector." He said eventually. "I will see to it that you're well and taken care of. No more beatings, no more threats, no more famine, no more…" he hesitated. "You will be safe under my protection."
"That means… you will be my Master." Legolas nodded. He seemingly caught this one last thought he knew and understood, interpreting the reality to the purposes of his slave-trained mind, unable to gather and understand everything at once. He tried to hold onto the secure truth of being someone else's property, for he had no idea what to do on his own, being left in the huge world. It was all too much and too quick.
"That only means I will take care over you." Elrond whispered tiredly. "But I cannot give you orders, I cannot punish you, I cannot treat you like those in Mirkwood did. Do you understand?"
Legolas gave him another blunt look and shook his head.
"No, Master, I don't understand it at all," he said truthfully. "I don't know why you would care about me, Master. But… thank you for the permission… to stay here. Thank you, Master, thank you…" he grabbed Elrond's hand and kissed it before breaking into tears again.
"Shush, don't cry," Elrond renewed the rocking. "Ssshhhh. It will be all well, little one. What do you not understand? It is all clear now and nothing more to fear."
"I cannot understand why someone would treat me differently than before," Legolas sobbed. "I'm not worth it. I'm just a slave. Besides, there is nothing for free. What will I have to do to repay your kindness, Master?"
Elrond's heart sank. He desperately wanted the Elf to understand, but at the same time he knew he could not explain it, he had to show it. And it required time.
"I am not like Lathronios," Elrond said, settling for stroking the blond head. "I am not mean. I do not enjoy inflicting pain and suffering."
Legolas whimpered instead of an answer. The Lord cuddled him closer, stroking and petting him until the sobs subsided and the tears dried. He repeated all over again and again that everything would be alright.
Elrond meant it; he could see that this cry was just a display of confusion and being lost, then of relief at being held in the arms of a protector. It was a simple, sweet act of releasing his emotions. There was no hysterical note in this cry, no spasmodic struggling, only searching for comfort.
Soon he will be better, Elrond thought. This is just a matter of time.
(1) (2) I couldn't just say Tuesday and Friday, could I?^^ I stick to Sindarin. An Elvish week has six days, each dedicated to another deity. Other names of days in sindarin: Orgilion, Oranor, Orithil, Orgaladhad, Ormenel and Orbelain (Rodyl). Quenya: Elenya, Anarya, Isilya, Aldúya, Menelya and Valanya (Tárion). Appendix D in RoTK.