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: Mature audience please. This chapter contains a mean slash scene and a mean Elrond. Such a gratis.
Please review!
Chapter 7: OF RUMORS AND CONSEQUENCES
/*/
Time really did its work and after a miracle of saving Legolas' life it improved both his physical well-being and his state of mind.
The Elf was able to stay awake almost whole day, dozing off only for short naps and eating more and more. Elrond was glad. Soon the bandages could be taken off permanently, except those securing his ribs, and bedsores weren't troubling Legolas anymore. The fever broke long ago and only a dark memory was left after the infection. His eyes recovered their clear blue depth, his skin was milk white again, not transparent in sickness. Legolas was well on his way to a full recovery. He even requested a second helping of a dinner one evening.
Imladris' bright, hot summer was in its peak. The trees were livid green, whispering to one another with their hundreds of leaves. Flowers burst into bloom to decorate the valley. The soft song of waterfalls was heard in the evenings. With such beautiful weather, staying in a small room was tiring and Elrond knew well that his charge was staring longingly through the window for hours at that time. When he had been too weak to stand he had to please himself with an opened window only, but as his state was improving considerably, the Lord promised his patient he would be able to go outside very soon. These news were truly wonderful for the poor woodelf. He longed for a contact with nature since he has been locked beneath the cold stones of his homeland fortress and finally his wish would come true.
Elrond decided Legolas was strong enough to be given a proper, long bath, so one day in the evening he carried him into his own baths, much more private and comfortable than the ones downstairs. Legolas was skittish, but he allowed to be tended to, especially when there was no Lord Glorfindel around. The blond Seneschal didn't emanate so much with authority like Elrond did, and he seemed not as powerful as his liege, but Legolas still feared him more than he feared Elrond. The physical strength Glorfindel possessed and showed might have been the case; it was not so clearly seen in his Master's frame. Legolas knew very well that it was there, but it was hidden under the long robes, a delicate smile and gentleness of his wide healer's hands, which touched only to change the compress or to stroke, nothing else. Legolas have learnt to trust these hands.
"Come, I prepared everything," Elrond said happily and scooped Legolas in his arms. The Elf weighed far too little still, but he at least started eating something more than a porridge or a thin broth.
"Master, I think I can walk, don't trouble yourself over me," Legolas tried. Elrond just shook his head and sighed at the Elf's impatience.
"You have been hospitalized for only three weeks," he said gently. "It is still too long a way to the bathroom to consider letting you walk there on your own. Not after all the effort I put into dragging you back to life again. You could fall and hit your head, causing a concussion or worse."
Legolas worried his lower lip, as always when he wanted to know something. Elrond urged him to speak.
"When will I be allowed to walk alone, Master?" he asked quietly.
"When I see you are strong enough to stand up without dizziness and make it to the door." Elrond shot the youngling a glance. The will to fight and to survive gladdened him.
They entered the bathing chamber and Elrond seated Legolas on a carved wooden bench. The tube was already filled with warm water; small clouds of steam were lingering in the air and the pleasant scent of soap entered their nostrils. Elrond put a few towels within the easy reach, along with a white, soft bathrobe, a tray of soap and some bottles with strange liquids. Legolas observed him as the Lord shrugged the outer robe off and rolled up his sleeves.
"Come on. We will get you thoroughly cleansed," Elrond smiled and at Legolas' hesitant nod he unwrapped the sheet he was tucked in delicately, but without fearsome hesitation. He had to act as normally and impersonally as he could not to scare Legolas away. The Elf tensed anyway already and his breath became more frequent as his poor, startled heart started to beat faster.
The pale form was shown, with jutting ribs and fading, yellow bruises over skinny limbs. On Legolas' back and chest the wounds transformed into scars, clearly evident as they were even more pale than the skin. It was still difficult to look at Legolas without pity.
The Elf tried to stand on his own. Elrond let him, but remained near nonetheless, holding him protectively under his armpits to prevent the possible fall. His change of place made the huge mirror on the opposite wall reflect the pitiful creature Legolas currently was. One look in the glass made him stop and stare at his reflection, the expression of mild surprise on his face. He said nothing for a long time, scanning every inch of flesh.
Brainwashed he could be, but he could still tell the difference between beauty and ugliness. His appearance was far from nice. Modest and beauty-loving as every Elf, Legolas felt a burning taunt of shame. He wouldn't look like this if he behaved better. He wouldn't be so ugly if he had not been a slave. And yet he was – and standing near the stunning Elf Lord he felt a painful disproportion, placing himself so much lower in the hierarchy. It was not proper at all that such a beautiful, ethereal being as Elrond would look and tend to such an abomination.
Legolas' eyes dropped to the floor direction. No wonder he does not hurry with demanding pleasure service, Legolas thought half-bitterly. With someone like me…?
Legolas sighed, pretending he examined his injuries. "It's not so bad, Master, I really can start walking alone," he muttered at Elrond's questioning gaze. The Elf Lord shook his head thoughtfully.
"Come, standing is tiring you and we have work to do yet." With that he led the youth into the water, paying attention that he didn't slip on the floor.
Legolas was afraid that the water will be cold, but he was surprised again when he found breast deep water hot and relaxing. Elrond's hands disappeared tactfully, which gladdened Legolas much. He was handed a white sponge and a bar of soap. Elrond turned to take the other one from a cupboard, leaving his charge alone for a minute. Legolas lathered the sponge and lifted it to his arm, then started rubbing.
More from a habit than from the actual need, he rubbed so hard that the skin reddened under the harsh treatment. He didn't stop, only increased the pressure and opened the abrasion further, using his nails as the sponge was rather soft. He didn't really pay attention to what he was doing, fascinated with the white marble stone from which the pool was made; the way the droplets fell from his wet fingers and left a glistening trail before they met the water surface. The observations didn't hamper him from tearing his skin further until a strong hand caught his wrist.
"What are you doing? You are hurting yourself! Legolas, stop at once!" Elrond exclaimed, seeing the fiery red skin. Legolas glanced upwards in surprise, then looked at his arm and realization dawned on him.
"Give me the sponge, Legolas." Elrond demanded. The Elf obeyed immediately, feeling his cheeks going red; he didn't know what he was doing, this was just a habit… but even if he tried to explain, Elrond wouldn't understand. He doesn't have to understand, he doesn't have to cope with… being tainted, Legolas mused. He cannot know that harsh cleansing brings relief in pain, be it a handful of pebbled sand or a few young sticks. It mattered if it scrubbed well.
Elrond sighed heavily above Legolas and started to coat his shoulders and back with the soft foam after brushing his hair out of the way. The Elf trembled under his touch. Elrond noticed that; he understood that he was afraid both of his wrath and his touch, not exactly knowing which one was worse. Elrond gritted his teeth. This couldn't transform into a traumatic experience.
"Legolas. Look at me," he requested and saw a pair of frightened blue eyes rise. "I am not angry." He said simply. "But don't do that again. Hurting yourself further won't help you recover, neither physically nor mentally."
For a moment Legolas wondered how on Arda did he know. But then, he surely knew. He was a powerful Elf Lord. What was poor Legolas thinking? He lowered his eyes sadly and braced himself for the attack. Praying for his voice not to fail him, he started speaking.
"I am sorry for my actions, I will never do that again. I request punishment, if it is your will, Master," Legolas whispered the well taught phrase but was silenced quickly.
"You are not a slave anymore. I am not your Master." Elrond repeated maybe for a hundredth time.
Legolas raised his eyes shyly.
"No punishment?..." he asked surprised.
"No punishment," Elrond repeated, shaking his head. At times like this he could hardly believe in the Elf's sanity.
Elrond reached for the first bowl he placed on the edge of the pool. It contained strange mixture of herbs, leaves and flower petals. He took a generous amount of them and threw into the water. A pleasant scent filled the room immediately, as the herbs became soaked with the warm water. Legolas inhaled deeply; he felt his head clear and his breathing ease.
"Athelas," Elrond smiled. "With a hint of lemon. My favorite. Do you like it?"
Legolas nodded. He did not know if the scent was the cause, but he felt himself relaxing bit by bit as Elrond's hands worked to make him clean again. Next he was lifted and seated at the edge of the pool, so that Elrond had a better access to his body; under the watchful gaze of his protector Legolas cleaned himself alone, daring not to put any more pressure than absolutely needed. Praising him and soothing quietly, the Elf Lord lowered his charge again into the welcoming warmth. Then the blond hair was wetted and washed carefully.
"Wipe the water out of your eyes," Elrond advised giving the younger Elf a small towel. Legolas complied immediately, while the Lord reached for the other flask standing on the edge. He uncorked the bottle and poured its contents on Legolas's head, then massaged it into his scalp.
"It's a conditioner. Your hair is in a bad state; it needs some help to recover properly," Elrond murmured. "We shall take care of it later as well, once it is dry."
Legolas would have liked to stay in the welcoming water a bit longer. The hotness and the scent were making his muscles relax and the tension built in them was dissolving. The hot steam engulfed him in a warm cocoon; his tired and stiffen limbs finally felt warm, his skin felt softer to the touch, his eyes automatically closed in pleasant surrender as his body went limp, surrounded by a healing warmth. And it was really great to be so thoroughly clean once again, after being only washed in bed. It wasn't even close to as bad as Legolas feared, his Master being careful and considerate enough. Strange as it was, it wasn't scary to be naked and washed by him.
Elrond smirked knowingly, as he saw Legolas recline in the pool a little. He told him to lean forward and attempted to knead the tense shoulders and back; the slow massage elicited a low, content sigh from the Elf, who was simply unable to stop it. It felt so good.
"Better now?" the Lord asked, still smirking. Legolas whispered his thanks in response. Elrond took his time; he supposed that Legolas would be afraid of the bath, but as it worked so miraculously and made him loosen his rigid composure, he wanted to prolong the moment of relax. The skillful massage worked well on the poor body. Mindful not to make it too strong, Elrond tended to the tense muscles, knowing well that Legolas must have been suffering from the pain in his back and nape after lying so long in bed. Unfortunately this couldn't have been helped.
After a longer while Elrond embraced his charge from behind and immersed a hand in the pool.
"The water is going cold," he said. "Come now. Time to go out."
Legolas complied reluctantly. When he attempted to stand up, sudden dizziness came in a way so overwhelming he had to lean on Elrond not to fall over. Familiar red dots returned to his vision and he felt very, very weak.
"M-master… I am dizzy…" he managed to whisper before slipping on the wet stones and hanging limply in the strong hold of the other Elf's arms. Elrond lifted him up and laid on a bench.
"Hold on, it's alright now," the Lord repeated holding the fragile hand tightly. As the blood came back to Legolas' head he felt a bit better, but was unable to stand up again. Elrond dried him quickly, clad in a white, soft dressing gown he had prepared before and quickly carried Legolas out to lay him on the bed. Once this completed, he opened both windows in the room and returned to his charge's side.
Legolas smiled weakly. He was deathly pale.
"How are you feeling?" Elrond raked a hand through the wet hair.
"I'm fine, Master," he assured. His vision once again focused.
"It was hot in the bath, the air was steamy, and I lifted you up too quickly," Elrond said. "And the scent added to your dizziness. You are simply still weak," he explained. Legolas nodded, albeit reluctantly.
One of the weirdest things about Legolas' new Master was that he allowed, or even expected him to talk. Now Legolas could feel the vigilant eyes on him again, waiting for some sort of response.
"When will I get stronger, Master?" he dared to ask hesitantly. "I… want to finally be able to tend to myself, to stop being troublesome." He muttered.
"Patience, little one. Soon. And you're not troublesome, never think that; there is no shame in needing help once in a while."
The cool air flowed through the windows, carrying the sounds of night filled with chirping of grasshoppers. Elrond closed one of the windows, and left the other slightly open.
"You must be sleepy," he grinned when Legolas yawned.
"No… don't want to sleep… not yet," the fair creature mumbled shyly with a face buried in a pillow.
"I noticed you are constantly weary lately. On which hour did you fall asleep yesterday?" Elrond asked, removing the somewhat damp bathrobe gently. Legolas stiffened, so he stopped his administrations, awaiting the answer.
"About two in the morning, Master… I think," Legolas admitted, lowering his lashes. Elrond snorted.
"How are you planning to recover and get stronger while you deny your body the much needed rest?" he scolded mildly. "Why have you stayed so long?"
Legolas bit his lip, reluctantly settling for the truth. He didn't want to share this with anyone, but he really didn't want to displease Elrond.
"The nightmares are haunting me, Master. I… don't want them to come. And they are not present only when I'm not asleep," the blond explained, closing his eyes in shame. Elrond spared him a long, saddened glare.
"I heard you screaming two days ago," he said quietly.
Legolas didn't know where he was to look. His eyes just betrayed him, sadness and guilt evident in them. His hands clenched on the edge of his blanket, and cheeks went slightly red.
"I'm sorry, Master. I didn't want to wake you."
Elrond smiled sadly. "I am watching over you. No nightmare shall come while you are in my company" he offered, stroking the fair head. Legolas yawned again, much against his will, and smiled thankfully.
"Thank you, Master," he said and allowed to be stripped off the bathrobe and covered by the blankets. "But they usually come late in the night, when… you are long gone." He whispered.
Elrond shook his head with an unreadable expression.
"This night you will have your sleep assured."
When about midnight Elrond was waken again by the sounds of crying, repeatable mutterings and pleas to stop, he got up with a fierce certainty, went straight into Legolas' room, tucked the blankets around him tightly and carried him out to store on a soft couch in his own bedroom. Legolas didn't say a word, didn't make a sound swallowing the salty tears noiselessly. Elrond lay in his bed casually and covered himself with a light, silvery blanket, then closed his eyes and sighed, a most normal of content sighs before falling asleep.
Legolas sniffed quietly and buried himself deeper in the warm nest of blankets. He just let his tears dry. Sleep was creeping up to him, misty and impalpable like fog; he let it overwhelm him, glad of his Master's protection, uncaring whether he wakes tomorrow to realize he had been taken or just wakes up in peace.
/*/
Legolas awoke to the soft caresses on his head. He recognized the wide hand at once as one belonging to his new Master. He opened his eyes lazily; he had a dreamless night of blessed peace.
"Good morning, Legolas" Elrond said. "How was your sleep this night?"
"I had no dreams," the Elf mumbled with his mouth still in a pillow. "No dreams at all." He grinned delicately, then tentatively moved his shoulders and shook his head to wake up.
"I have a surprise for you today," Elrond said. Legolas's grin disappeared immediately and the thin body stiffened.
"What surprise, Master?" he asked, obviously dreading the answer. Elrond sighed.
"A pleasant one," he said. "There is nothing you should fear. But first the breakfast," Elrond moved back so that Legolas could sit up and handed him a plate with sandwiches. Warm milk was served this day instead of tea. Legolas dared to smile again as he saw the full glass. He liked milk.
"As I thought, your hair recovered a bit of its shine," Elrond noticed, observing the Elf. Legolas stopped eating and reached for a lock of his hair; for him it looked the same as always, but he could feel it was much softer to the touch. "And there is one more thing which should please you," his Master continued, "The bruise on your face is gone."
"It faded?" Legolas asked, touching his cheek.
"It disappeared," Elrond corrected. He took the small mirror from his pocket, brought especially for Legolas to see the difference, and held it so that he could see his reflection.
"Gone," Legolas repeated, a smile forming on his lips. "Finally gone. I thought it would never disappear."
"You're so impatient, little one. I told you it would be so." Elrond smiled at the sight of the empty plate. "You are healing remarkably well as for…" he hesitated, and Legolas looked at him curious. "I mean, you are healing more like a human would. You need more time and stronger medicines. Besides, you can feel the cold, and you are not glowing almost at all. This is typically human feature, even if you are unmistakably Elven. That are the last things left to worry me, but I suppose you simply need time and care. So don't worry." Elrond smiled, hoping the youngling will believe this half-truth. He did, for he nodded and attempted to get up.
"I want to take care of your appearance this morning. Did you get enough to eat?" Elrond asked, helping him.
"Yes, Master." Legolas nodded and disentangled himself from a heap of soft blankets. Elrond smiled and helped him out of the gown he wore to sleep, then showed him a thin, white robe with delicate embroidery near the hem. Legolas shyly touched the fabric, amazed at the softness of it.
"Do you like it?" Elrond asked. Legolas was too moved to make a sound, so he just nodded.
The robe fitted Legolas well; it was loose, but not overly. The long sleeves covered the remaining yellowish bruises. Legolas looked definitely better.
He was picked up and carried out of the chamber. Legolas recalled he was brought here yesterday night after having an especially nasty nightmare; he didn't resist when Elrond came in the middle of the night and moved him to his own bedroom. Now he felt no need either.
After the morning washing he was seated comfortably on a chair in front of Elrond's desk. Before him stood a mirror in a carved wooden frame, which had not been here before. Elrond stroked Legolas' head delicately, then put some items on the table before him; a brush, a comb, and a pair of scissors.
Legolas glanced up uncertainly. Elrond was smiling kindly, seemingly having no ill intentions. He took the scissors and ran a hand through the knotted, braided anyhow hair.
"I think we need to cut your hair, Legolas." Elrond said. The blond Elf turned to him with utter panic in his eyes.
"Cut it… all?" he asked, terrified, lifting his hands to his head and grabbing a fistful of fine locks on each side, as if trying to protect it. He eyed the scissors with fright. "But… I have no lice…" he mewled.
Elrond stared for a while in disbelief.
"Of course you don't," he said slowly, reaching to uncurl the fists from Legolas' hair. "I don't want to shave you. You look lovely with long hair. I only intend to make you look better." Legolas glanced up hesitantly. Elrond was expecting an explanation.
"I thought… because… in Mirkwood slaves are shaved to… avoid dirt and…" he said quietly.
"I cannot imagine situation in Rivendell which would require shaving Elves in order to avoid lice." Elrond said calmly, but coldly. "This is no Mirkwood. You weren't, aren't and won't be treated the same way. No one will." Elrond waited with proceeding until Legolas nodded in understanding. "Have you been shaved before?" he asked, undoing the rough braid Legolas's hair was made in until now.
"Twice, Master."
Elrond sighed and squeezed the tense shoulders in a consulate gesture. "But in your last days of stay there, I mean in the dungeon… you weren't shaved. Why? "
"I… don't know, Master," Legolas said truthfully. "Even if I knew, I can't… can't remember why."
Elrond sighed sadly. Probably because they didn't want to give me a full picture of the cruelty they are capable of, Elrond thought. Or maybe they wanted to save his good looks, as he was intended to be my…
Elrond cleared his throat and dismissed that thought. Instead he settled for gentle rubbing of the arms he held to soothe the Elf before him. Finally he returned to his hair.
"Alright now. Listen, it is badly damaged and matted. Look at the ends, just like a worn out broom. I have to cut the knots out, otherwise I will never straighten it. And if we cut it a little, it'll have more strength to grow back and rebuild," he explained. "Maybe… here, I shall cut it at the level of your shoulder blades. Alright?"
Legolas nodded and looked down. The gesture didn't go unnoticed, because Elrond saw it in the mirror.
"What is it, little one?" he asked.
"A bit… short," he confessed. Elrond sighed.
"I know, Legolas. I know. But it will grow back to as long as you want."
The knots came out first, cut away and thrown on the stone floor. Then a comb straightened the pale strands and finally Elrond cut them bit by bit to a proper length. Legolas glanced at his hair falling on the floor to form a small heap. Not exactly knowing why, he felt a will to weep.
"Relax," the Lord muttered. "I shan't hurt you. Tell me if I pull," he offered.
Legolas nodded as much as he could under the brush, which replaced the scissors. The feeling in itself was surprisingly pleasant; Elrond's hands were gentle and he paid attention not to hurt him when undoing the rest of the smaller knots.
"Here you go. It won't be long now, Legolas, I will braid it for you and then it will be over." Long fingers entangled in the blond mane and nimbly made two small braids on both sides of his head, to prevent them from falling into the eyes, and one solid braid at the base of his neck.
Despite the cutting part, Legolas decided he liked the feeling of Elrond's hands in his hair. It was simply pleasant. He almost regretted it when the hands were moved away after one last stroke on the perfectly braided hair.
"Now look. How do you like it?" Elrond asked, encouraging the young Elf to look in the mirror.
Legolas glanced up. The Elf who was staring at him from the mirror was strangely more beautiful than the old Legolas; he had milk white skin without any bruises, his eyes seemed bigger and more blue in the full sunlight and his golden hair, trimmed and braided, nicely framed his face, which was no longer a grimaced mask of pain and suffering. In addition, he was dressed in white. He looked…
"So pure," Elrond said suddenly. "A picture of innocence you are." And he chuckled kindly. "Legolas, smile. Don't you like what you see?"
Legolas sighed and dared a tiny, almost imperceptible smile. "I do like what I see, Master. Thank you very much," he whispered.
"You are a very nice sight to behold. Just wait, you will be more beautiful than any Elf in Imladris," Elrond said merrily as he cleaned the table and then the floor. Legolas shook his head; it was highly impossible for him to ever be as beautiful as the Elves he met here.
A sudden, quiet knock sounded at the door and Elrond called to enter. Lord Glorfindel appeared in the room; Legolas jumped on his seat when the famous hero came straight to the spot where he was sitting and assessed him.
"Oh, look at you," he said in awe. "Is it really the same Legolas who came here three weeks ago? You look stunning!" He said, crouching near the Elf on the floor and looking at him as if seeing him for the first time in his life.
"Thank you, my Lord," Legolas said lowering his eyes modestly.
"Do not be so shy," Glorfindel smiled. "Raise your eyes. Yes, like that," he patted his arm and stood up. Elrond approached and they both smiled at him, admiring the sight before them. Legolas really had no idea how beautiful he looked and felt only unease instead of contentment; he was almost writhing beneath the two gazes. Elrond noticed that immediately and cleared his throat to make Glorfindel look at something else besides Legolas.
"Alright, little one. I promised you a surprise this morning, remember?"
Legolas nodded without looking up; he only tensed further. Elrond leaned to scoop him in his arms and met a feeble attempt to protest.
"Maybe I could… stand on my own…?" he asked barely above a whisper. Elrond hesitated; he put Legolas down and allowed him to stand, but after a few steps the feeble legs refused to carry him and he swayed dangerously. His Master stopped him and lifted into his arms.
"See? Not yet. But don't worry, we will begin exercises shortly. You are getting stronger," he said. Legolas obediently encircled Elrond's neck with his arms at the Elf Lord's silent sign. He panted slightly and his head was spinning a bit. But still, few days ago he could not really sit down on his own.
Legolas was torn out of these thoughts when he saw Lord Glorfindel opening the balcony door and realized he is being carried towards it.
"Would you like to go outside, Legolas?" Elrond asked, unable to hide a wide grin at the lights of hope that lit in the blue eyes. The Elf nodded frantically, searching for a permission in his Master's eyes, and when he saw it, he actually smiled. He smiled with gratitude and emotion, so that a cute dimple showed in his cheek, what made something stir deep inside Elrond. Glorfindel smirked at the sight.
When they entered the round balcony, the sun almost blinded Legolas and he hid his face in Elrond's robe. When his eyes adjusted and he glanced up, he saw Imladris in all its glory: the whole hidden valley, surrounded and secured by rocky mountains. From Elrond's balcony one could see much more than from the ground. The view seemed unreal, like a very beautiful, detailed painting; the only difference was that this was real.
Near the railing a daybed was placed, now covered with pillows and sheets, specially prepared for the young visitor. Elrond gently lowered Legolas down on the bed and let him sit and stare at the sights before him.
His eyes were wide open, as if he tried to see as much as he could and register everything at once. His mouth were pursed tightly now, while a minute before they were slightly agape. Legolas' head slowly turned to the side, his eyes devouring the sight presented to him. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself and regain his normally submissive, well-trained composure, but to no avail. Soon he was blinking rapidly to fight the tears threatening to spill both from emotions and because he was keeping his eyes open so widely.
"The trees…" he uttered quietly. He was looking at the rich, thick forests covering the mountain slopes. Then his eyes darted to the left and he sighed. "And a waterfall," he said with unhidden amazement.
"And there's another one," Elrond prompted, pointing it with a finger. "And another. And one more," he smiled at the expression on the Elf's face.
Suddenly Legolas spotted something and leaned to the balustrade. On the other side of it the huge convolvulus was climbing up the wall, using the wall's recedes to support its stems, heavy from the huge amount of leaves and flowers. Legolas spotted one of these flowers: a large, star-shaped, white flower with dark pink stripes coming from the centre to the edges of the fleshy petals. He lifted his hand to touch it, but then hesitated; finally, very slowly he bent the stem to be able to smell the scent.
Elrond sat on the bed with his charge. He was so proud of his land now, the magical sights resembling those from fairytales.
"This is beautiful," Legolas whispered and returned to staring at the high mountain tops surrounding the valley. Elrond eased him to lie down, covered the Elf with a blanket and smoothed the pillows beneath his head. Legolas smiled gratefully, looking at his Lord.
"You must call me if it gets too hot for you. The sun can be vicious in midday, especially for you" Elrond said.
"You are most gracious, Master," Legolas whispered, reaching for the wide hand resting on top of the covers and bringing it to his lips. He kissed the palm thankfully and took a deep breath of clear air, smelling of forests and unbelievable freshness, the mix of pine and ozone. It was so good to be there, to be able to see all this wonderful things, to come into contact with nature for the first time since what seemed like eternity.
"Remember to call me," Elrond said and left Legolas alone on the balcony. The Elf was too mesmerized to notice that his Master was gone. He listened to the voices, the noises coming from the courtyard and the stables. He could see a few Elves standing there, when he leaned over the balustrade.
"…ordered me to carry it to the armory, I can't talk now, mates!"
"But you will come with us for some fishing this afternoon, right?"
"I will. Why won't you drop by to my place on the way? Mum made a cake."
"Definitely! Give her our love. We'll come at… five in the afternoon, alright?"
"Alright! I'm waiting!"
"Hey! Will your sister be at home?"
"You stay far away from my sister!"
There was laughter during that talk. Legolas couldn't remember any of the Mirkwood slaves talking in such a merry manner. All the time he had an impression that they shouldn't speak so loud, or even hide to talk; a guard could always approach and punish them for such openly cheerful behavior. When he saw Lord Glorfindel walking briskly towards them, heading to the stables, he almost called a warning. But Glorfindel only smiled at them; they bowed and exchanged a few words with the mighty Balrog Slayer, totally at ease. Legolas could not suppress a gasp in wonder.
Glorfindel looked in a direction of the pale, blond figure leaned over the balustrade of Elrond's balcony. He smiled and waved a hand to Legolas, who almost hid behind the railing at the gesture. Glorfindel only laughed at him and patiently waited until the youngling shyly returned the gesture.
It all was too beautiful to be true. But in this moment Legolas could not force himself to be suspicious any longer. He could not help relaxing and smiling to the world surrounding him. He could not make his body tense any further in the anticipation of an attack. He surrendered. He surrendered to the pleasant feeling of being warmed by Imladris sun.
/*/
Some time later Glorfindel returned to Elrond's study to find his friend drowned in a lecture of some kind of a medical book. Various jars with dry herbs were left open on the table before him, and he was muttering to himself while reading.
"Elrond." Glorfindel smiled. "You are talking to yourself again."
"Oh?" the Lord lifted his eyes from the text and raised his fine eyebrows. "I didn't realize. You were in the stables, I deem?"
"Yeah."
"You spend a lot of time there recently."
Glorfindel shot his friend a look. Elrond wasn't looking at him, leading a finger through a white page covered in tiny lettering.
"What is so fascinating about this reading that you can't pull away?" he asked finally.
Elrond straightened and eyed the herbs before him.
"I am combining a new medicine." He said. "Something which would help for Legolas' nerves. He is not sleeping well, nightmares are haunting him and I wish he had more nightly rest, which is sufficient for his mental well-being. He does not feel safe enough, his submissive behavior is just a well taught mask. Under it he is unprotected and vulnerable, terrified even more than we suspect. Can you imagine how it is like to live in a state of a permanent alert? Being cautious not to earn a blow, not to disrespect, not to forget saying 'Master' at the end of each sentence? No wonder he cannot sleep. His mind produces terrifying visions as a result of this stress."
"So you want to drug him?" Glorfindel asked. Elrond spared him a cold glare.
"Basil is hardly a drug. Underestimated, but works. I want to ease his sleeping, that's all. The rest will soon come by itself. He… began to trust me, I think." Elrond sighed.
"Indeed," Glorfindel smiled. "He does trust you. More than anyone, I would say. The way he shies away from my touch, even from mere looking at him is disturbing. While in the same time he allows you to tend to him in every way you wish."
Elrond didn't say a thing. He walked over to the balcony door and leaned on a wooden frame. Legolas was probably asleep, as the light of day chased away any nightmares or bad thoughts and allowed him some undisturbed rest. He wasn't left alone in the darkness and relaxed enough to let himself be unguarded.
"I'm worried about him, Glorfindel."
The blond Seneschal pretended not to know what is Elrond speaking about.
"He is healing, the threat is gone. You don't have to worry, my friend," he said in feigned merry tone. He exaggerated. Elrond snorted at this comment and sent him an icy look, easily detecting the façade.
"He is healing, true. But not like an Elf. A normal Elf would be running swiftly after three weeks, without any painful side effects. Legolas is still too weak to stand. He needs medicines I usually give to Men. At the beginning it took me some time to deduct that light antiseptics suitable for Elves are not enough for Legolas. He would die if not the drugs I have from the human healers. He still feels the cold. It is not just an accompanying inconvenience, he can feel the cold, it's constant and as natural for him as not feeling it for you and me. Does that mean he can fall ill like a human would? Suddenly run a high fever and cough, if he gets a chill..? More, he isn't glowing, Glorfindel! His light is inexistent, I cannot see it. I cannot feel it. How long will he endure? You know very well that he is fading. And by that I mean that this child which sleeps peacefully over there is slowly, steadily dying."
Glorfindel pursed his lips tight. "It is not said. He may still fight it. He may succeed. His will to survive has proven itself before, did it not? If he does not succumb to grief, then…"
"There is no cure to stop fading and you know it."
"This is fatalism."
"This is mere truth. He is fading. We will lose him soon. I will lose him…"
Glorfindel sighed impatiently. He just couldn't stay silent and considerate any longer. "Elrond, you speak so, because you lost Celebrian. That's the only reason. It is you who is grieving."
Elrond froze. His eyes slowly rested on his friend, and were ice cold.
"What do you suggest…?" he asked in a dangerously calm tone. Glorfindel knew he has overstepped the unspoken border. Now there was no way but to go forward.
"I say that your medical judgment is influenced by mourning and a bad experience after the previous such case. You have almost said out lout: 'I will lose him just like her.' Celebrian decided to sail over the Sea, caused by fading, but it was her decision. Legolas is not the same, he is not her. He doesn't have to die. It just doesn't have to be the same! He doesn't have to fade just because you couldn't save your wife. And besides, this was not your fault! It was her choice, not your…"
"As much as I respect you and treasure your friendship. Don't you say a word."
Elrond was pale. He didn't look at Glorfindel, staring straight ahead. His jaws were clenched tight and it was clearly seen how angry and touched he is. This was still too fresh a wound, festering inside him, poisoning him and his thoughts. Glorfindel shut his mouth, but had no intention to say sorry. Someone had to finally voice it.
"I loved my wife. I don't love Legolas. He is my patient. She was my beloved. Don't you dare to show me similarity, for these two cases are totally different." Elrond said slowly. Glorfindel sighed.
"And yet your experience influences your sight. And you immediately grew so fond of him, so caring. I saw you that worried last when Elrohir fell from the horse as a child and went unconscious. You do care for Legolas as of your own son and don't say it's not so, for you see it yourself." The Lord said in much softer, delicate tone. Elrond's face relaxed a bit.
"Yes, I am fond of him. I cannot understand the evil done to him. I would do anything to make him forget and live normally again, to… repay, to make up for all he had been wronged. But he is dying on my hands." Elrond closed his eyes and shifted his body weight from one leg to another, agitated and dispirited.
"He may not die. It is not said. Can't you see that his state is still improving? Were he really fading, he wouldn't get better at all!" Glorfindel said, yet the reason wasn't reaching Elrond now. "Elrond, if you give up hope on him, he will die more surely. He needs help of strong people around him, he needs support and friendship, tender care! If we surrender now, he won't stand a chance. He has not given up. He fights. You must help him in this. You are his anchor, for Elbereth's sake!"
This seemingly stirred the Elven Lord, for he rested his eyes on his friend. Glorfindel was unpleasantly surprised to find much more grief and still fresh anger in them than he had imagined he would. Slowly they both walked back into the room.
"And I think you should say something to the royals." Glorfindel said, desperate to drag Elrond away from the dark ponderings and lead his energy into something more palpable. "I hear unpleasant rumours. They wonder where this… as they said… woodelf plaything resides right now, as they are curious at the reason of his disappearing."
Elrond's eyes flashed in fury. "They think I keep Legolas in my room for that purpose?" he exclaimed. "I haven't heard anything comparably mean in a long time!"
"I know your temper, Peredhel," Glorfindel smiled, laying a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Easy, my friend. Easy."
"You know," he started hesitantly, wishing to pursue the topic a little more. "The royals are whispering, because the whole situation was highly equivocal. And they are aware that you haven't taken a lover for years by now. Imladris' Lord is lonely… and they had a folly thought that you could use an easy escape which a pleasure slave provides. Don't get mad. Lathronios surely intended to plant a seed of distrust and discord between us." Glorfindel said. "And I am worried about you too."
Elrond rolled his eyes. His hands moved automatically to clean the mess on his desk, but from the involuntary glance towards the balcony the Seneschal understood that he is considering what to say.
"Glorfindel, just look at him." He snarled finally. "Beautiful and hopeless, and so submissive. They broke him well and undoubtedly taught how to serve. He is a walking temptation to any man in sight who prefers males. But I wouldn't! It's just… no… Glorfindel, no, this is awful to even think about!" Elrond raised his tone suddenly, causing his friend to move back a little.
"Not 'walking' maybe… but as you said." The golden haired Noldo smiled, then sobered anew. "Don't care about the rumors. They are tempted themselves." He smirked.
"I know, mellon nin. Thank you."
/*/
Elrond gently scooped Legolas in his arms. The Elf woke up and struggled wearily, but as he recognized his Lord he surrendered and let his head support itself on Elrond's arm.
"You were supposed to call me when you're weary or it gets too hot," Elrond scolded.
"It was not too hot." Legolas muttered.
"I have objections. And you are too weak. It's high time to go inside and sleep."
"P-please… a while longer…" Legolas asked, shifting in Elrond's arms to see the outside world again.
"Legolas, not today. You're exhausted. There will be more days. I can take you out any day if you'd like. How about tomorrow? You don't have to hurry," Elrond said as they entered the room. Legolas' eyes gone wide.
"I… I can go out tomorrow?..." he asked.
"Of course, little one." Elrond sighed. "Tomorrow and every other day. We will start regular exercises very soon and you will be able to go downstairs, to run freely on the fields, you will go to the forest and see the lake. There are many streams as well. You will go wherever you like."
Legolas said nothing for a long time. Elrond carried him securely to the bed, tucked him in and stroked the fair head in a well-known gesture.
"It can't be happening," the Elf Lord heard suddenly. He stopped his hand and glanced at Legolas questioningly. "It simply can't be true. But everything seems so real… So very, very real…" the Elf muttered sleepily.
"Legolas, you are cared for and on your way to get well again. There is nothing unbelievable in this." Elrond whispered. "Sleep, little leaf. You are weary."
"Yes, Master," the Elf muttered, burying his face submissively in the pillow. "Thank you, Master. My Master…" he whispered affectionately. Elrond wanted to protest, but somehow he couldn't. Legolas grabbed his sleeve when Elrond was reclining him, and now refused to let go. Already asleep, he clutched to the hand of his savior, as if afraid that he would disappear and leave him to his nightmares. Elrond watched the fatigued figure on the bed, immediately asleep, limp as a rag doll when he delicately pulled his hand away. Thoughts swarmed into his mind.
/*/
Elrond's chamber lay in darkness.
It was silent and still in there; the dark, late evening has already sealed everyone's eyes with sleep or closed them to privacy of their own rooms. Here, in Elrond's study, it was no different. Elrond was seated in his own, safe nest.
The big, round chamber, used as a living room, was perfectly tidied and welcoming. Windows were covered with deep burgundy curtains, embroidered richly in the corners. Balcony door on the left were open, so that the air and chirping was let in, yet no lace curtain moved, as if there was no wind. The two corridors on the right were closed and no light came there, so that the library and the bathroom were both forgotten and wrapped in dark. The healing room lay hidden behind the small door, now empty and sterile. Candles were burning steadily only in the main room, where Elrond was sitting in his armchair, sipping lazily the best wine of his vineyard. The Lord was reading a book, absent-mindedly turning the pages.
He was waiting for someone.
The awaited person knocked to the door soon, hesitantly, quietly.
"Enter," the Lord called, putting the book aside. The door opened and a slim figure of a blond Elf slipped into the chamber, carefully closing the door behind him on a metal bolt and a key; the Elf trotted to the place Elrond was sitting, knelt before his armchair and offered him the key. Elrond took it and hid in the drawer of his desk.
"Legolas," Elrond murmured contentedly. "My beautiful. I see you bathed."
"Yes, Master," the Elf whispered. His hair were a little damp and intensively smelled of soap. His flawless, milk white skin under Elrond's hand was unbelievably smooth, pale as moonlight over the delicate cheekbones and the elegant pillar of his neck.
Neck which was locked in a leather collar.
"I grew impatient waiting for you." Elrond said. "Go to my bedroom and light the candles. Prepare the bed and come back here. Be quick," came the order and Legolas obediently rose from the floor to complete the task. Elrond's bedroom was situated at the very end of the chamber. A few marble stairs covered in a rich carpet led to another room behind an elegant arch in the stone wall. Huge bed was placed in the centre, guarded by the two high candelabras, each having at least twenty arms, ended with a wide, white wax candle. Legolas dutifully lit every one, then closed the window and the drapes, uncovered the bed from the heavily embroidered cover and returned to his spot at Elrond's feet. All the time Elrond was watching, already undressing him with his eyes.
"Good boy," the Lord smiled, when Legolas knelt in front of him again. "Good, obedient elfling. Come here." He pulled his slave forward by his shoulders, reaching for a hungry, demanding kiss, too forceful to be considered pleasant to the young captive, and yet too possessive to object. Elrond heard Legolas whimper, for he had no support, but wasn't allowed to hold to his Master to remain upright.
Elrond's hands started gently, by trailing lazy patterns on Legolas's shoulders and back. His mouth abandoned the kiss and travelled through the cheek down the neck. The royal nose nuzzled the cruel device and breathed in the scent of his prey mingled with floral soap and leather.
"Hold still," Elrond growled, when Legolas tried to find a bit more comfortable position. His hand returned to the blond head, grabbed a fistful of blond locks and pulled Legolas' head back, so that the pale throat was easily accessible. Elrond rubbed his face to the soft skin of the neck just above the collar and under the jaw, lips searching for close contact, only to bite down and suckle forcefully with an exaggerated, obscene sound, long and hard enough to leave a purple mark. No collar and no shirt will be able to hide the bite later. This was a branding mark, for everyone to see.
The tunic Legolas wore was easy to unbutton. Elrond tugged at it non too gently, uncaring if the seams and threads endure it or not, until it hung open. The pale, skinny chest was next to receive a feverish treatment; the Lord's mouth and teeth slid down the tempting flesh, hands kneading the slim back with fervor. Another rough kiss was bestowed upon the swollen lips, reddened like raspberries, soft like flower petals. The twin nubs of Legolas's nipples hardened, for the air coming from the window was cold. The slave started shivering.
"Stand up," Elrond said huskily, tearing his lips away from the yielding mouth under him. "And undress."
Elrond reached for his abandoned wine and sipped at it, watching as Legolas hesitantly complied, fighting with a sob which threatened to break free. Closing his eyes, he slowly peeled off his clothing; first the slim belt he wore around his hips. Then the opened tunic. Soft, knee high boots. Silvery leggings.
"Everything." The Lord snapped. Legolas's fingers trembled as he pulled at his loincloth and bared himself to the eyes of his Master.
Elrond just sat for a moment, admiring the soft, voluptuous body. Legolas was slender like a young tree sapling, white as marble and wonderful to the touch, with silken, unmarred skin. He was perfect. Elrond felt himself harden and his mouth go dry. Watching this pretty elfling was a pleasure in itself; besides, the longer he waited, the more agitated and uncomfortable his slave felt. Having nothing except his collar on, wearing a clear evidence of being possessed, Legolas writhed under the dark gaze and could not help but anticipate what was going to happen to him – and fear the possible pain. Elrond knew that well and marveled at that thought. But he let himself indulge only a little while; he just couldn't wait to have this creature screaming under him.
"To the bedroom with you," Elrond said dangerously, standing up and reaching for the elfling's forearm. "Oh yes, I will so enjoy it! My beautiful little Legolas," he breathed, gathering the Elf close in a mockery of an affectionate embrace. "You are truly, truly… perfect for this. Give me those lips," he ordered and took Legolas' mouth again, plundering the soft cavern without remorse, pushing his tongue deep inside. He led the stumbling child to his bedroom, tightly holding his wrists. He brushed the curtain of the canopy aside and pushed Legolas down, using the fact that his legs were pressed to the side of the bed and he had nowhere to go. Having no support, the elfling fell on the mattress, whimpering silently. He curled there hopelessly, watching as Elrond shrugged his outer robe off and unlaced his leggings.
"Get up," Elrond ordered, sitting on the bed with his knees spread wide. "You will serve me with your mouth today. Kneel before me."
With a muffled sob Legolas slid from the mattress and positioned himself between his Master's legs. His lips were quivering and eyes were filled with tears as he started hesitant licking, tentatively, unskillfully. Elrond quickly grew impatient and led his head down, forcing him to swallow him whole, making the Elf gag.
Pleasure flooded Elrond in an overwhelming way. His slave was inexperienced and young, true, but the very hopelessness of his victim aroused Elrond. Tentative licks mingled with salty droplets falling from the blue eyes; Elrond had the Elf suck the tears away from his flesh, and that alone drove him crazy. Long fingers entwined into the blond mane and a hand instructed what to do, pushing Legolas' head down or staying him where he was. Elrond cast his head back, breathing deeply, a smile forming on his lips, deep and throaty moans escaping him from time to time.
Finally Elrond let Legolas withdrew; the Lord was flushed with arousal, blood pumping in his veins rhythmically, his pupils dilated, eyes fogged. He studied the tearstained, red face of his slave with a mocking grin. He murmured a praise, stroking the blond head like he would stroke his favorite pet.
"I couldn't possibly tire of you, little slave," he breathed, pulling Legolas back onto the bed and flopping him on his stomach. "But I have been neglecting you… we will remedy that. It's about your feelings as well."
Elrond fumbled with some oil and breached the pink, small entrance with his finger. The Elf mewled loudly, trying to get away, but a strong hand caught his nape and steadied him; the intruder began to move inside him.
"Please, no, please, I'll do anything…" Legolas spoke for the first time he entered the room. He didn't even try to hide his tears anymore.
"Of course you will." Elrond smiled and added a second finger into the tight, resisting passage to scissor them and spread his slave more. Legolas yelped into the pillow, louder and louder sobs breaking free. All his body was trembling, a hand laying on the sheet was closing in a fist and relaxing, cleaving the fabric desperately. Elrond shushed him mockingly. "Easy, little one, easy… now, it's not so bad, you can take it… there…"
Elrond heard Legolas scream silently as he removed his fingers and pulled him up on all fours. Elrond leaned over him, thigh to thigh, grabbing the slim hips and pressing them to his own, letting his slave feel his hard erection.
"Now, brace yourself. I promise you will enjoy it," he whispered to the elfling's ear and started to push himself into impossibly hot, tight entrance. Legolas wailed and thrashed, trying to brake the contact, yet Elrond held him strongly, preventing any possibility of escape.
It was pure bliss. Legolas was so hot and wonderfully tight that Elrond thought he will lose it in seconds. Yet he controlled himself, gathered his scattered senses and readied to the next move. Giving his partner no time to adjust, he started pushing in and out; at first he was careful to angle himself properly, so that his slave felt pleasure too, but quickly forgot that, taking as much as he could from the delicious body he had all to himself. He heard only his own moans of pleasure. And, oh Valar, this was just wonderful... how much he missed that! How much he needed that! Yes, more, Elrond thought. More of this miraculous heat. More of this helpless struggling. More of the breathtaking pleasure this act brought. More, straight to completion.
Frenziedly thrusting once, twice more he came hard, spilling a great load of his semen inside the hot channel. He collapsed on top of Legolas, sweated, limp, sated. Satisfied. This was what he needed. How good… this sweet, sweet body…
Slowly coming back to himself, he stroked the white back and playfully bit down the shoulder he had trapped under himself. Breathing hard as after a long run, Elrond pulled out of his slave and fell on the bed with a thud, sighing contently.
Minutes were passing quietly, and darkness around only thickened.
Legolas moaned and slid down from the bed. Elrond glanced at him, irritated that he dares to move from his spot without permission. He was just about pulling him back up on the mattress, when he noticed that the Elf was not rising from the floor.
Elrond stood up and came closer, his eyes widening at what he saw. Legolas was shaking, curled on the floor in a foetal position. He was covered in bruises and bleeding lacerations, his back and bottom were seeping with the fresh crimson blood. He couldn't take a breath in, catching the air like a fish pulled out from the water; his eyes begged, his mouth moved, yet he could not say a word. Elrond could clearly see the broken bones under the transparent, unhealthy skin, his ribcage fractured like after being smashed under a falling tree. Legolas screamed with the last ounce of his strength, giving into this scream all pain and fright he had inside, the air coming out of his mouth with a bloody flow; this scream made Elrond's hair stand on his head, made him stumble back in panic and fell down on the floor as well, this horrid scream, scream, scream…
/*/
Elrond woke up violently, gasped for air, sat down on the bed and looked around with real fright. What happened? What's wrong…? What…?
Nothing. His room was dark and silent; nothing indicated something abnormal, it was the middle of the night. The opened window brought in sounds of heavy rain and a far away thunder. A storm was coming over Imladris.
Just a dream. Just a bad dream. Nothing happened, Elrond repeated to himself; he rubbed his brow coated in cold sweat and took several deep breaths to calm his shaking limbs and the frightened heartbeat. He felt strangely exhausted and spent, a promise of a terrible headache was sending dull needles of pain to the back of his skull and his stomach felt odd, as if it wanted to rebel in mere moments. He wanted to lay back again, but something stopped him. He felt wetness on his lap. And the sheet was damp.
Elrond couldn't believe this. He had come during his sleep like an immature elfling. He rose from the bed, lit a few candles on the nearest candelabra; he eyed the wet stain on the bed and on his nightgown with disgust, feeling awfully empty and shaken. He recalled clearly and vividly all the dream he has just had. The pictures were living under his eyelids, terrifying him and taunting, making his stomach nauseous. What was this dream about?... I wouldn't, I would never… why Legolas…?
Elrond took the sheet off his bed and carried it to the bathroom. He cleaned himself briefly, washed his face with cold water few times and pressed his wet palms to his flushed cheeks. Guilt and disgust gathering in the corners of his mind was overwhelming.
How was this possible? Why my imagination gave me such a vision? – he wondered. I would have never been this rough with any lover of mine, even were he healthy and mentally intact… it was awful… And why he, actually? How long it was since I laid with a man…?
"This wasn't me," Elrond whispered. "I am not… I'm not like this…"
Why would I dream of forcing… no, actually raping Legolas…? Why even a thought? No, I wouldn't! He is just a child, an abused, frightened child… Elrond combed a hand through his dark mane in frustration, feeling sick. Glorfindel told me about this rumors. That I kept the boy as my pleasure slave. This talk touched me, yes. I feel lonely, that's true. But I would never do something like this… This means nothing, this was just a dream… this wasn't me. Not even the very dark side of me. This just wasn't real. I must not even think about it.
Suddenly a vision of the bloodied figure curling on the floor returned and Elrond almost ran into his bedroom to check if there was really no dying Elf there. You royal idiot, he cursed himself, feeling very real fear clawing at his heart. It was just a nightmare. You are old enough to stop fearing sleeping alone.
Yet worry refused to leave Elrond and he headed to the healing chamber to check on his patient. He needed to see him, to know he is well. He took a candle from his nightstand and hurried out.
"Oh Valar, why this dream? Why do you torment me so by such visions…? I wouldn't do anything! He is just a child, I cannot possibly dream about him in that way! I wouldn't do a thing, why this dream…?" Elrond moaned desperately, reduced to a panicky wreck, feeling a bile rise in his throat. "If this is a punishment for a folly thought I might have had for a second, only to discard it with fright, then your judgment is harsh," Elrond whispered, his lips numb and eyes watery. He just needed to see Legolas. Now.
But all was well with the little patient.
Legolas slept soundly, unaware of his Lord's worry. He was lying on the blanket instead of under it as the evening had been really hot and steamy; now the opened window brought in a tiny shower of rain and upcoming winds, which would undoubtedly wake the sleeping one should the window stay opened. Elrond saw tiny goosebumps on a surface of Legolas' calf, seen from under the nightgown.
The Lord slowly closed the window, mindful not to make any sound. Legolas' face was so at peace. After the new draught Elrond gave him after supper he was having a good dream, or no dream at all, which let him rest and gather some strength to fight with exhaustion and help in convalescence. The blond head rested on a pillow, mouth were left slightly agape; both his palms were laying defenselessly near his cheek. He had brought his knees to his chest when falling asleep. He slept like a child, his breath steady and calm, no sound escaping him.
He will soon feel the cold, Elrond thought, looking at the uncovered leg. He couldn't take the blanket from under him without waking the elfling up. It would be bad to ruin the effects of the new medicine, Legolas has had too few restful nights at all as for Elrond's liking. The Lord shrugged off his rich bathrobe he had put on in the bathroom and covered the elfling delicately, tucking the fabric around the slender body.
Legolas murmured something unarticulated without waking and closed his hand over the hem of the robe, rubbing his face in the pillow. A soft sigh escaped him. He just kept sleeping, unaware and relaxed.
Sleep, poor elfling, Elrond thought swallowing with effort. His throat clenched painfully as he observed the innocent youth.
He found no more sleep that night.