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: None.
Chapter 8: EVERYTHING YOU DO, YOU DO FOR THE FIRST TIME
/*/
As Legolas' state was gradually improving, Elrond decided it was wise to show him some normalcy and he started to drag him into the daily routine, keeping an eye on him during his work. He used to carry Legolas out to the balcony and let him breathe fresh air, while he was sitting in his room near the opened doors and writing, doing needed paperwork or his medical researches. He studied books with maps in the full sun, sitting with Legolas and sipping lazily at his tea. At first Legolas had difficulties with his Lord's silent presence. He couldn't think, couldn't relax, couldn't do anything beside sitting stiffly and playing nervously with a hem of his shirt or an edge of the blanket, never looking at Elrond. But with time he got used to it. Elrond studied books, made small notes, murmured to himself sometimes. When Legolas started to behave more normally, Elrond used to ask about something from time to time or lead a mild, casual talk, searching for an optimal ground he could move on when interacting with the Elf. Laboriously, really painstakingly a connection between the two was being built.
Glorfindel was a happy, enlighting, joyous creature filling the chambers with words and laughter every time he came by. And as he was always where his friend and Lord was, Legolas saw him very often. When the weather was rainy or too hot, the elfling stayed indoors at Elrond's instruction, curled in the red armchair and covered by a fluffy blanket, doing his best to melt into the back rest. He listened, wanted it or not, to the long debates between the Lords about various political issues, followed by every sort of supplies, harvests, crops, citizens, money politics, councils, letters, arrangements, architecture plans, horses or cattle, everything. Elrond knew all about his land. He learned every inch of it by heart. Observing him and listening to him speaking to his equals about matters of importance, Legolas was struck in awe. He stopped thinking about Elrond as of a good healer-Lord. He was suddenly placed much higher. He was a ruler from a fairytale. Some kind of a merciful deity, giving from his generous hand, creating by a mere word. A king Lord. A Master, always a Master. It gave a potent mix, placing unaware Elrond in a place of almost a god.
When the savior Master was downstairs on councils or meetings, Legolas was being left with someone, mostly Neremiel. They talked and shared experiences. The maiden was kind, open hearted and very gentle. Soon Legolas found himself speaking more than he intended at first, talking about all this wonders around, about his disbeliefs and hopes. Neremiel was a loyal listener.
Nutritious meals helped to regain both some fat and muscling, but all damage couldn't be helped at once, not in one, not in four or more weeks. Legolas has been kept in outrageous conditions for years.
Then the time came when he was strong enough to stand on his own. Exercises begun, painful at first as all his limbs were weakened and stiffened, his very bones sore, his muscles trembling from disuse. It was difficult to catch a breath after the first day, all his body hurt, his ribs were like on fire. Elrond wanted to wait few more days seeing this. But Legolas was persistent. As soon as he regained his senses and dried from the sweat, he was trying anew. And again. Again. Once more.
So Elrond began to instruct and soon it showed he was a demanding teacher. When he said twenty repeatings of one exercise, it had to be twenty, not even one less. Seeing disapproval in his eyes and his lips going into a thin, angry line - only once - Legolas swore to himself he would work and try, even if he had absolutely no strength left. Even if he was lying on the floor unable to get up. He had to. Elrond wanted that of him. Master said it should be done.
Maybe it was not the kind of discipline Elrond wanted to enforce, but it worked. Soon Legolas was able to walk out of his room alone, only with the help of walking canes. And in few days he put them down as well. Yet he was still weak and slept much. Soon they developed a schedule allowing Legolas to exercise and rest in sufficient amount; workout in the morning, sleep after dinner, less demanding exercises in the evening, bath, sleep.
Legolas wanted to be able to walk again on his own, even if it was an awkward stumble, so they were walking a lot. Elrond used to stand and hold Legolas' forearms, as the elfling stood facing him; the Lord was moving backwards, minding Legolas' steps. If the Elf felt lightheaded, he was always there, able to catch him without problem. Legolas was doing his best, but had huge difficulties. His legs just refused to carry him. His muscles were sore, stiffen and weak from disuse, his ribs made breathing difficult, the ankle was slow to heal and the overall dehydration and blood loss made him pass out few times. One evening during their everyday walking training he just couldn't take a step further, knowing that it is just pointless to try. He went down on his knees ungracefully and still holding Elrond's robe by both desperate hands, supported his head on the iron frame of the bed nearby. He was so exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Both.
"I cannot," he whispered.
"You can." Elrond's voice was quiet, yet determined. "I will help you. But you must stand up on your own."
Legolas glanced up. His breath was ragged and tired, like a breath of an old man. What a disproportion, he thought. This is where I am supposed to be, on my knees before you. Why even try to get up? What's the point?... Something choked him in his throat. Valar, he was so tired. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't find the strength. He just couldn't order his limbs to move. He would gladly slip down to lie on this inviting, warm carpet.
"Legolas."
His Master was calling him. Stand up and walk, his eyes were saying. Sighing with frustration, Legolas straightened; the movement made his head spin and forced desperate tears from the corners of his eyes. Elrond's hands were on his shoulders. We'll help, the hands offered. Legolas caught the fabric under his palm tighter and with a mewl rose from the floor, all shaky and almost blind from the dizziness. The hands pulled him up. Not seeing or knowing, Legolas fell forward, straight into awaiting arms, which cradled him and held upright.
"Good. Good elfling, That's right… Now, back into the bed… that would be enough for today."
Such were the hours spent with the mighty Lord of Imladris.
The fragile trust hardened. The small light of hope still burned. The shock turned into an overawed astonishment. The disbelief was slowly replaced by a hesitant certainty.
And there he stood now, recovered Elf. Healthy and whole again, with no bandages and no broken bones.
/*/
"I am ready to work now, Sir," Erestor heard and turned around surprised at the quiet voice he didn't expect to hear downstairs so soon.
"You are up?" he asked as he saw the submissively lowered face of Legolas. "Does Elrond know?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Did he see you this morning?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And does he approve?"
Legolas bit his lip. "Yes, Sir," he said hesitantly, "Only Master forbid me to… to work."
Erestor arched an eyebrow skywards. "So you have the day all to yourself. I think you should catch some sleep after dinner, and in no case overexert yourself. Means: no helping in the stables, no carrying water, nothing tiring at all, are we clear? Take a walk somewhere. Visit the gardens. Talk with someone. Go enjoy yourself."
Legolas nodded miserably.
"Listen, I saw you delirious. I saw you at the very edge and believe me, I shall remember it to the end of my life. I don't want to see you ill ever again. That last time was enough." Erestor smiled friendly and laid a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "That's why please, do me a favor and take care of yourself. Alright?"
"Yes, Sir," the fair Elf whispered and hesitantly glanced up. Recently he learned he will not be punished when asking something, so he dared to test his luck again. "So… what can I do? I don't want to be useless" he said.
"You will carry a message for me, all right? Glorfindel should be near the paddocks. But I'm serious, no work there!"
Soon after Legolas ran into a sunny courtyard, closing his fingers over the neatly folded paper.
Oh, how long it was since he could walk freely outside the buildings! He enjoyed the fresh air and birdsong as if for the first time, when walking down the path in the direction of the stables. All was alluring, more beautiful, more living, for he was finally on his own two legs again. He breathed in deeply and with a smile chose his way.
The patio and walkways were done in a nicely carved stone, light gray in color. In full sunlight it looked inviting, sparkling with tiny grains of white sand embedded in the stone. The path behind the house on his right led to the gardens full of various herbs for the kitchens and healing halls. His way however led to the wide alley secluded by high trees on both sides of it, creating a shadowy corridor with a natural roof of mingled branches. That was the way leading from the main gates of Imladris to the front door of the palace. He followed it for some time, looking at the people passing him and riders in Imladris' colors leaving the palace for many destinations. One turn left later Legolas saw the stables.
They had made a huge impression on him earlier. They were much larger than those in Mirkwood. He had already noticed that there were more doors and windows making the building lighter and airier; many roomy stalls lined each side with beams criss-crossing in the rafters, where birds made their nests, especially swallows. There were also stairs to the loft, where the oats and hay was kept. It was peaceful in here and Legolas knew he would always enjoy working in here.
The horses lodged in the stable abandoned their meal as he entered and turned his attention on the Elf. He wasn't scared of them anymore, he learned long ago that animals are better than humans or Elves. The initiate fear of the horses' strength and size disappeared as he saw that they won't bite or kick him if he did nothing to scare them. Slowly, but not hesitantly he reached for the first one on his left and petted the dark, soft, velvety nose. In the first stall a little golden foal stood up and came closer, trying to gain his attention. It was a little mare, looking at him with her big dark eyes. He caressed her ears and spoke soothingly; a tiny moment of indulge would not displease anyone, right…? Especially when there was no one in the stables. He glanced around, looking for Lord Glorfindel, but he was nowhere to be seen. He kissed the young mare's forehead as she neighed friendly at him, but he had no time for further play. He patted her neck one last time and walked away to follow the sounds of shouts from the far stable yard.
Legolas emerged from the stables beside a large paddock where the Elves were shouting and running around trying to force a wild horse to obey. The stallion was obviously not cooperating: he had a great fun chasing the terrified stable boys from one corner of the yard to another. He was frisking wildly and trying to bite everyone in range, but without a malicious nature. It was almost as if the horse was playing with them, taking a perverted satisfaction from each of their falls face down to the mud. A muddied Lord Glorfindel stood near the railing, watching as the horse ran the Elves around in circles. Seeing Legolas, he called him over to his side.
"Wild and stubborn rascal, isn't he?" Glorfindel snorted. "He was this way when we received him. Magnificent one, but a bit playful at the moment." One of the grooms cursed in an especially nasty manner and crawled away from the field, retreating through the mud. The horse neighed demonically, pretending he's chasing him. The Elf rose, jumped over the fence and stumbled over a nearby bucket, landing on the ground again.
"As I said. He decided to play with the boys a little. Perfect timing really." The Balrog Slayer shook his head with a smile. The ground was wet, as it was raining heavily that night. Now all the Elves including Glorfindel were smeared with mud.
"Have you tried to ride him, my Lord?" Legolas asked, watching as Glorfindel was trying to get rid of the mud which poured at his face from his hair.
"Yes, I have. But he is uncontrollable at yet," came the reply.
"Uncontrollable," Legolas whispered, relishing the word on his tongue. Glorfindel shot him a look and smiled. The boy was looking at the proud stallion with glowing eyes. Indeed, the horse was beautiful; black as the deepest night, the swashbuckling gleam on his fur. The wide chest was made for wearing a metal breast-plate of a battle horse, like those on the paintings Legolas saw in the hallways, portraying battle scenes or other legendary moments. The strong, perfectly muscled legs were ending in an elegant shape of hooves, still free from any horseshoes. The shapely head turned to Legolas, giving him a shot of the black eyes: courageous, proud and a bit malicious at the moment. With one move of his thick and long tail the horse galloped away, demonstrating to the elfling his endless disdain.
Legolas was thoroughly enchanted. Glorfindel couldn't help but chuckle at his stunned expression; he met a bit hurt, short look. Legolas bent his head again. Glorfindel sighed and encircled him by one arm.
"I'm not laughing at you. It's just pleasant to see your fascination with the horses." Glorfindel patted the elfling's arm. "I bet you would want to ride on him one day."
Legolas' eyes widened at that and his mouth fell agape. He couldn't mean…
"Of course not today, because you are still weak, your ribs are sore and this beast is all but tamed," Glorfindel smiled, "but be patient and your wish may come true one day." Legolas' eyes looked down again, but the happy spark was still present.
"So I see you're up and about. That is well. I only hope you are not here to work, little one."
"Sir Erestor ordered me to give you this," Legolas answered. Glorfindel thanked, enfolded the paper and read the directions and details of another council meeting with a very displeased expression. He put the paper to his pocket and sighed.
"How I hate this. Alright, given I still have some time… what are you going to do now, Legolas?"
The Elf hesitated. "I thought I will be helpful here, my Lord."
"No such luck."
Legolas fell silent. This was starting to be uncomfortable, what was he supposed to do, walk through the gardens whole day and do nothing? Why? He was well now, and even if he wasn't, what difference would it make? He had already wasted plenty of time staying in bed, how will he ever work this off, if he won't start now?
"Assuming from your look, you are quite miserable with this." Glorfindel cocked his head.
"Maybe I could… I don't know… sweep the floors…? Do something," he whispered.
"Legolas, if you are a singer, you have a strong voice. Use it," Glorfindel commanded.
Legolas took a deep breath and repeated the sentence louder. The Elf Lord laughed, patted his arm again and ordered to follow.
Legolas did. Glorfindel ushered him into the stable and slowly began working; Legolas quickly understood he can only help, but do nothing on his own. He sighed and slowly, so as not to be noticed, silently he began helping Glorfindel. The Lord kept a strict eye on him and was halting him from the most strenuous chores, but accepted his help as he had noticed the elfling's rapport with the horses. Well, not quite what Legolas wanted, but that would have to do.
They helped the terrified Elves to bring the magnificent stallion back to his box. They checked on the foals, swept the floor, supplied the horses with hay and food, brought water and repaired two stall doors. They brushed a few horses also. All the time Legolas was being watched; he was managing, but fatigue made its presence felt quite quickly and even if Legolas didn't do anything constructive in his opinion, with time he began to feel lightheaded and grabbed the stall door with both hands for support. Glorfindel was near him in an instant, helping to sit on the floor.
"Shit, Elrond is going to kill me," Glorfindel cursed, brushing Legolas' hair out of the way and meeting a sweated nape. "Come on, breathe steadily, all is well…"
"Yes, all is well," Legolas said a bit surprised. "I'm just fine…"
"I have heard that already," Glorfindel muttered, checking Legolas' brow, making him stare in small shock at his superior.
The clear vision returned. His head calmed down, as well as his heart. The two Elves were just looking at each other in worry, a few grooms watching the scene from afar. Legolas was confused.
"Why… everybody are so worried… about me?" he asked hesitantly.
Glorfindel sighed and sat near him, supporting his back on the stall door and stretching his long legs.
"Because we have seen how ill you were," he said slowly. "How you were mistreated and abused. Now you need care and worry, especially since you are still exhausted and have not fully healed."
And besides you may be fading, Glorfindel thought, but never said this aloud.
"But I am used to hard work," Legolas responded quietly.
"But that doesn't mean you will work comparably hard here. That wasn't hard work, that in Mirkwood. That was exploitation and torture."
Legolas didn't say a word. One, he did not know what to say; for him it was only normal that his betters order him to work, refuse rest, beat and shove around. It was how he has been treated from childhood, with a saint belief that he deserves that, for he is of the worse kind. Second, if he agreed with Glorfindel, where could that conversation lead? Only to a severe punishment. Glorfindel, after all, was his superior, and this all could be just a provocation. And even if it wasn't, like his Master Elrond told him… He wasn't ready for any kind of conversation about his past.
"You don't want to talk about it, don't you?"
Legolas glanced up at the mighty Lord. This wasn't a question he expected. Slowly he shook his head no.
"It's alright, you don't have to. But if you ever want to, you can… come to me." It was Glorfindel now who was looking down.
Legolas almost flinched in shock. No, this had to be a play, a wicked game only to show him his place. Legolas couldn't allow himself to be caught in this.
"My Lord, you can order me to talk," he said. "And I will obey."
Glorfindel supported his chin on his fist and glanced at Legolas tolerantly.
"You are not a slave anymore." He said in a tone of a lecturer. "You should have this sentence written on your hand, so that you could look at it anytime and memorize it." His look turned into strict now. "It was a suggestion made by a friend, not a Master, Legolas," he said.
"A friend?" Legolas repeated in daze, feeling his mask slip and his composure dissolving. "You, my Lord?"
Glorfindel fell silent for a good minute.
"Am I that bad…?" he teased finally.
"N-no! This is… just… not like this, this… you're the Lord!"
"I'm the same as everybody else. I only have more responsibilities."
"Privileges!"
"No, responsibilities."
Legolas couldn't stand the tension anymore and hid his face in hands, shaking slightly. He has just got into an disagreement with one of his betters. This was unthinkable.
"I didn't believe Elrond when he said you are brainwashed. Now… I do." Glorfindel whispered and encircled the thin boy with both his arms, pressing him to his chest. Legolas stiffened in horror, dug his fists into Glorfindel's chest and tried to wriggle free, but as he was held fiercely. He froze. Slowly the hold lessened, the reassuring strokes came and Glorfindel's own cheek was pressed to the top of Legolas's head.
"This is not like you think. Listen, you have come here from a different world. World of pain, injustice, terror and enforced obedience. You must learn to live in the normal world again. For this is the normal world. This right here."
"I disrespected you, my Lord. I am sorry…"
"There is no need to say sorry, you did nothing wrong. You don't understand. You must learn. "
Legolas didn't relax, but hopefully he didn't tense up any further. He didn't like the contact at all, but had no other option than to surrender and stay close. Sighing, he closed his eyes. Did Glorfindel mean what he said?
"Different world?" Legolas asked and met a nod. "I must learn everything from the beginning?"
"Like a child would." Glorfindel said, brushing a strand of hair out of Legolas's eyes. "Now everything you do, you do for the first time. Like you were born again."
An aching loneliness flooded the elfling. He couldn't understand, his mind rebelled at the vision Glorfindel was creating, but he felt sadness and pain nevertheless. He didn't want the tears to come, for it was humiliating to cry in front of others, but he knew this will inevitably come if he stays in this embrace any longer. He was still afraid of Glorfindel. He yearned for a different touch, one he would not fear. He wanted his friend, he wanted Moreth. Or Mearwen, the old woman in the Mirkwood kitchens. Or even Titinne, with her mass of orange locks and lips covered in dark red colour. He wanted them, he couldn't stay any longer in this arms, for this just wasn't safe, this was a trap, this had to be, he had to move away…
"Legolas, think about what I said. And my offer still stands. But you don't have to use it. You can, but don't have to." Glorfindel sounded after longer while. "Now, I want to take you back to the palace. You must rest and eat something. Alright?"
Legolas nodded, happy to be free. Slowly and meekly he was walking behind Glorfindel all the way to the palace, not speaking a word. Glorfindel was silent too. He was afraid he did more damage than right today.
/*/
He was left in the kitchens under Belithravien's eye. Decidingthat he had better find Erestor, Legolas sneaked out and searched until he found him in the gardens.
"Ah, Legolas! I trust you found Lord Glorfindel?" the head of the household asked as he examined a large tomato plant.
"Yes, I did," he said with his head bowed.
"Must you always bow your head? Wake up, there is no necessary." Erestor asked in exasperation.
"Do you have anything else for me to do today, Sir?" Legolas asked as he ignored the comment about his head. He would not rise it after the talk in the stables.
"You have done more than enough I suspect," Erestor said as he saw the dirt on Legolas's clothing. "Lord Elrond will not like it at all. How are you feeling, little one?"
"I'm fine" was all Legolas would say. Erestor gave him a look that said he knew he was lying and told him to spend the rest of the day resting, dismissing him with a shooing gesture.
So the day has ended. All was done. Legolas decided to find Neremiel; maybe she would find him a quiet place to sleep? He felt somehow tired, truth be told, his body was oddly sore. Not to mention he didn't want to talk with anyone right now. He just wanted to sleep it off.
"Neremiel, is there some place I could lay for an hour of sleep?" he asked the maiden, when he found her on the back-up of the kitchens, where she was hanging out the washing.
"Oh my, I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you, I have already prepared your chamber and it only awaits your presence."
"My what?" Legolas asked.
"Your chamber silly," she told him. "Where did you think you would stay?"
"I… did not know. Surely not here in the palace," he replied. Neremiel smiled sadly.
"There are still many things you must learn. One of those is, we have no slave quarters here." Legolas couldn't help a sad glance. Again this learning thing.
She took him gently under his elbow and started to tow him up the stairs, explaining.
"You must remember," she began. "There are no slaves here, we are all paid for our work. We all live where we want. I live in a cottage in the southern part of Imladris with my parents and my little brother. Most live in their own cottages, a few in talans in the woods. Lord Elrond and his family live here in the palace of course, as do Lords Erestor and Glorfindel. Most of the unattached live either in the warrior's barracks or here in the palace. You have been assigned a room here as such."
"I have never had a room of my own before," he said.
"Me neither," she looked at him, understanding. "I share a room with my brother. But I suppose… you were in a much worse situation." He smiled sadly and nodded, not angry at this comment, but suddenly very sad.
"Things are so different here," Legolas said quietly. He could speak to her, she was his fellow servant, after all. "I am experiencing so many new things. I fear when it will end."
"The worst is over," she said gently. "Now you're a free Elf. You are just a little... lost. Give yourself time. No one is going to hurt you, we'll be pleased to help you accommodate."
"But how can I be a free Elf?" he muttered quietly enough for her not to hear him.
She took him by the hand and led to a room close to Lord Elrond's private chambers. That was not a surprise to Legolas; he welcomed it with a gloomy satisfaction. Sure he would be kept close. If Master Elrond wanted to have a nightly use of him, surely he would not run somewhere downstairs.
Opening the door, Neremiel pushed him into a big chamber. Beauty of the room made Legolas gasp in wonder; he never expected something like this. There was a huge four poster bed made of dark wood, covered in heavy red velvet and a huge number of embroidered pillows. In one corner sat a small dressing table and a similar wardrobe. There was a table and chairs beside the window and a large armchair near the balcony entrance, very similar to Lord Elrond's red one. The balcony was large, with a view of most of Imladris, including the waterfalls.
Legolas was spellbound.
"Do you like it?" asked Neremiel with a happy note in her voice. Legolas didn't know what to say; he was stunned.
"It is… so beautiful," he stammered finally. He couldn't stop staring.
"I will leave you now; you wanted to sleep," the girl said, soothingly rubbing his arm. "And you must know that this is the best bed in whole Imladris, so go to sleep and rest well," she told him. "I will check on you later in case you need anything."
"Neremiel," he began. "Thank you…"
"Do not thank me, thank Lord Elrond. Sleep well" she said, giggled and closed the door behind her.
Legolas was left alone in the large chamber.
He was so overtaken by all that had happened that he sat down on the edge of the bed and sudden tears came to his eyes. He had to occupy himself with something not to start to cry; after all, he had no reason and it was only his aching heart. Legolas shook his head. Too much of it, too much. Just calm down. It will all be well, he repeated to himself.
Finally regaining control, he hoisted himself up from the bed and approached the wide opened window. It was warm; the sounds of birds chirping and people working downstairs filled Legolas' ears. At least it wasn't too quiet for him. He came back and tentatively pressed the bed's mattress by his hand, uncertainly, shyly. He was afraid he wouldn't manage to sleep in a bed so soft. Too soft for a slave.
The room looked as if it was somebody's own chamber previously. If he had to guess, he would say the previous occupant had been a female. There were little marks of it, even if the room was perfectly tidied and prepared; many pillows, four-poster bed, huge balcony, beautiful curtains, dressing table and delicate wooden carvings.
On the wall above the table he spied a black curtain that looked strangely out of place. Moving the curtain aside, he discovered that it was hiding a painting of a beautiful woman with a small child. The little dark-haired girl was sitting on her lap, completely unlike her mother. They were looking at each other and seemed rather happy.
The painting was very good, obviously done with professionalism, and Legolas wondered why anyone would hide it. Confused and tired he let the curtain fall back. As much as he would like to know the mystery, he was too tired to worry about it. He returned to the bed and took off his shoes, making a mental note not to be surprised about anything from now on.
He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillows.
/*/
It seemed only a moment later when Legolas heard someone knocking at the door. At first he could not recall where he was and the view of the unknown place made his heart go faster, but his memory kicked in and he sighed in relief, displeased with his own skittishness.
"Come in please," he called faintly when the person knocked again. The door opened and Neremiel showed in the gap.
"May I?" she asked, and when he nodded, clumsily crawling upright on the bed, she entered and closed the door behind her.
"You have slept long," she said. "It's evening already. You must have really needed the nap."
"Erm… yes," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. A sudden wakeup left him a bit stunned.
"You know," she started conversationally, "you have received an invitation to dine with Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel this evening. And Erestor told me to repeat that you are not there to serve them, only to eat with them. That's wonderful! Such an honor… I am here to help you prepare."
"But… I can't," he said in surprise. "I'm just… I can't!"
"Shush," she said to stave off his denial. Chatting on she continued. "You can and you will. You are lucky, can't you see? It is not everyone who is invited to a private dinner with them. I certainly never have been and probably never will. Here, let me fix your hair for you," Neremiel said as she sat him down and gently unbraided the golden strands. "I wish I had hair like yours" she confessed. "It is silk to the touch." She sighed and grabbed the hairbrush. "I have also brought you more appropriate clothing. After all you cannot have dinner with the Lords in your household robes, can you?"
"Why not?" Legolas asked in confusion.
"Legolas, your house robes are casual wear for everyday," she shook her beautiful head. "Dinner with the Lords is a formal occasion, so you will need something better."
"Neremiel, you are going into too much trouble on my account," he said fervently. "I don't need another set of clothes."
"Legolas," she began to explain gently. "I know you may not be used to it, but we use to have more than one set of clothes. It is normal for an Elf to have many sets."
"Why all of you care so much?" he asked very quietly, repeating the question from the stalls. It was more than he could comprehend.
"Legolas, you have met only a few of us and yes, we care. We all care about each other here," she said calmly. "It is normal for people to help each other. You need care, while we can provide it. Why wouldn't we help you?"
"There is nothing for free," he whispered.
"No, you're wrong. Kindness doesn't cost anything. So does comfort. And help you are receiving now, the possibility of a new, better life, is not given because we want something as a repayment."
"Then why?"
"Because it should be done," she said with fierce certainty. "Don't be offended, Legolas, but in our eyes you are a poor, mistreated being which wouldn't survive on its own. Being the stronger ones, we feel bound to help. It is our duty to do so. It's what a good man would do. Have you ever heard of solidarity?"
Legolas' breath halted for a moment. What this had to do with it? This was beyond any possible comparison. Neremiel did not know what she was speaking about. She had never been kept in Mirkwood's conditions. She couldn't even understand the enormity of the situation they all were in. Without solidarity and help they would all die, it was normal a slave would give his own bread to another slave, or help him dress his wounds, or help with the work the other one was too weak to do. But it was between slaves. And no Lord or a Master having respect to himself wouldn't help a slave.
Legolas was certain that things presented themselves no differently here. He knew his place. He couldn't allow himself to be caught in this smart trap. The Lords would not help him, no one helped him for free.
Legolas didn't answer. He kept these thoughts to himself. Maybe he shouldn't trust even Neremiel.
"I know you are confused and everything is happening too fast," the girl said hesitantly. "But give us a chance and everything will be fine."
Legolas sighed. How should he react…? He just nodded in resignation.
She handed him his new clothes and helped him finish preparing. Legolas was truly amazed at the transformation when he looked in the mirror; he almost looked like a High Elf. His leggings were grey and he had on leather boots that came to his knees. His tunic was made of some soft and fleshy fabric in a warm green color with embroidery around the sleeves, neck and hem. The clothes were made of a good quality material, even he could easily say so. Neremiel looked at him with criticism, brushed long strands to fall on his shoulders and fastened a fair sash around his waist. She moved back and admired the result for a moment.
"I do not deserve such a gift," Legolas said, his happiness almost shuttered by this thought.
Neremiel shook her head again. "If it worries you, talk to Lord Elrond about it," she told him, "but I am sure you don't have to be concerned with it."
"What I am supposed to do there?" he asked suddenly. "What can I talk to an Elf Lord about?"
"You can talk about anything you want," she answered. "Lord Elrond is like a father to us all. He will talk about almost anything with you. Be at ease, there are many possible subjects you can raise up," Neremiel smiled. "For example the stables. You were working there all day, share your thoughts with them. I also bet that they will want you to sing. You are a singer, after all, if Erestor wasn't lying! Now, run along. You are probably hungry and they will be waiting."
He thanked her squeezing gently her tiny hand and walked to the door, but then hesitated.
"Off you go," she said not giving him a chance to hesitate further.
Legolas smiled back hesitantly and made his way to Lord Elrond's private chambers at the end of the corridor. The silent knocking sounded and he was let in.
Glorfindel and Elrond were pleasantly surprised by the change. Legolas looked stunning. He was not as unhealthy white as he was upon arrival and even though he was still too thin, he did not look starved anymore. Elrond's heart was warmed by the changes he saw in the young Elf. He no longer looked like a slave from Mirkwood, but like a free son of his people.
"My Lords..." Legolas begun as he bowed low.
"You do not have to kneel or do anything of the sort, just come sit with us," Elrond said as he pulled out a chair. Legolas sat, but was on tenterhooks. Elrond proceeded to light the candles as Glorfindel poured them all wine.
"Relax, Legolas," the blond Elf Lord said when he saw how stiff he was holding himself.
Dinner was brought by the two Elves, who were silent and quick like shadows. In a minute they disappeared and Legolas was uncertain if they were even there. He and the two Lords were left alone, with no one standing behind near the wall, ready to serve them; Lord Elrond rolled his sleeves up and cut the duck on a plate with a small, silvery knife, just as if he was doing this all his life. He put a portion on Glorfindel's plate, then on Legolas', then on his own. Legolas' face reddened.
The elfling didn't know how to act, so he decided to do the same as his Lords. He was used to wolfing his food down in Mirkwood because of his constant starvation, but now he imitated the Lords and tried to eat as slowly as he could. They were eating a dinner of a roasted duck served with a variety of fruits and berries. There was freshly baked bread with honey or jam and wine. Legolas was given a glass as well. Hesitantly he tried a sip. The sour taste of alcohol almost made his stomach revolt and he put the glass away as quick as he could not to touch it even once again.
Elrond and Glorfindel were talking in an absolutely normal, even familiar manner. They were slowly drawing Legolas into their conversation by asking him questions. There was often laughter and Legolas began to relax slowly; a hint of a smile appeared on his lips and stayed on through most of the time. He had heard the two talking about matters of importance and politics, this time it was about spending the evening pleasantly, so without any strain, without any heavy topics the time went flying during a casual talk.
"So, how do you like my stables?" Elrond asked with a smile, addressing Legolas. "I was told you have an affinity with horses."
"I like horses very much, and they seem to like me, Master" Legolas answered quietly with a warm smile upon his face. Elrond liked it a lot and wished to see more of it.
"I know because I had a talk with your friend," Elrond told him. "The one who defended you in the council hall when you first arrived a week ago. Moreth. And Glorfindel confirms that."
"I like your stables, Master. They are much bigger and brighter than the ones in Mirkwood. One can tell that your horses are in good condition. There is plenty of foals and yearlings, which says much about how well you care for your horses, Master," Legolas said and Elrond nodded with satisfaction, noting that it was the longest speech the Elf has made since coming to Imladris.
"Moreth… was speaking about me?" Legolas shyly asked, when he saw a small encourage on another question.
"Yes, we had a short talk before the delegation departing. But he was not very talkative," Elrond replied. "Pity; I wished to know more about you. What I am able to tell as far is that you have made a good healing progress, but you're still too thin; you slowly accommodate here, but I would still wish for you to be more relaxed, for you are scared most of the time, and terribly shy. Oh, and the clothes are perfect for you."
"About these clothes, Master," he began. "They are far too expensive a gift for me, 'tis just… I shouldn't, I can't…" he tried fervently.
"The clothes are for you," Elrond stated firmly. "Arwen would be disappointed if you didn't accept them."
"Who is Arwen?" Legolas asked confused.
"She is my daughter and the Evenstar of our people," came the answer. "You should let her see you in these clothes. I think she would like to know how well they look on you." Another smile, another nod as an encouragement.
"Is she the one in the covered picture in the chamber Neremiel led me to?" Legolas dared to ask. He met a second of stillness, his Master giving him a sharp glance before answering.
"No, the woman on the painting is my sister, Elevran. She sailed over the Sea."
Legolas really didn't know what to do with a strange silence which fell over the table.
"I am sorry," he said finally, hoping it will help somehow.
"Me too," Elrond said without looking at him. He sighed silently and recovered from the gloomy thoughts. "Glorfindel, would you go call Arwen please? She is late again, even if I asked her to be on time."
"Come on, you know that if a girl wants to make an impression she has to be a bit late," Glorfindel said with a smile as he rose. Elrond poured himself a little more wine and delicately clinked his glass with Legolas' full one.
"Isn't the wine to your liking?" he asked. Legolas stiffened.
"I… actually, I have never… it is good, of course it is," he said ungracefully, going red on his face. Elrond delicately covered his hand resting on the white tablecloth with his own.
"Legolas, lies hold no interest to me. And do not ever be afraid of telling the truth. I don't want you to say anything else but truth." The Lord said patiently. "Again. Isn't the wine to your liking?"
"It's not, Master." Legolas said truthfully. A gentle pressure on his knuckles made him broaden the answer. "I… I don't like alcohol. It makes one… defenseless."
"Have you ever drank alcohol before?" Elrond inquired.
"I don't know," Legolas said. Elrond gave him a strange look.
"How come?" he asked.
"It's the truth, I swear," Legolas said quickly, looking at his Master with fear.
"It's all right, all right, I believe," Elrond extended a hand and touched the rigid shoulder. "But why you don't remember?"
Legolas bit his lip. "I don't remember half of the things which happened in the dungeon," he said surprisingly calmly. "But I recall a scent similar to… to the wine. This is of course nicer and lighter, but similar," Legolas admitted, suddenly feeling so very stupid that he makes a scene just because he doesn't like the smell.
"I understand," Elrond said with compassion. He rose, gave a thin shoulder a comforting pat, took his wine away and fetched a cup of herbal tea from a smaller table standing near the opposite wall. "Here, maybe this will serve you better."
Legolas smiled with gratefulness and thanked sincerely. Elrond's hand moved higher, on his head, long fingers entwining with the blond tresses. It was so pleasant to look at Legolas today.
Glorfindel soon returned with Arwen, both of them laughing at pristine Elven maidens and their taste for tarting up. Voice of the Evenstar was bright and inviting like silver bells, when she laughed. When Legolas saw her, he could only stare.
"Arwen my dear, this is Legolas. Legolas, my daughter." Elrond introduced them and Arwen came closer to see the new, intriguing Elf better. Legolas looked at the most beautiful elleth he had ever seen. She was tall and thin, her raven black hair fell down her back in regular, delicate waves. Her face was pale and a little long, like Elrond's, but full, red lips she had to get from her mother. As she smiled, her eyes seemed to reflect the first stars of the evening. She was wearing a sky blue gown that fit well on her slim figure.
Legolas rose from his seat and knelt before her, kissing the edge of her dress. She gasped silently at such behavior, both enchanted and a little worried; she hesitated, but responded in a way that would not embarrass the Elf. She bent and helped him up.
"No one has ever greeted me that way before, it was very romantic," she began as she studied him. "But please, do not do it again. You need not to kneel ever again," she gently lifted his chin a little, giving him a bright smile. "This color is perfect on you! I told Ada that green would suit you."
Glorfindel snorted with laughter, causing Legolas and Elrond to smile also. Arwen stroked delicately the pale cheek and invitingly opened her arms. Hesitant and uncertain, Legolas looked her in the eye not knowing what she wanted of him; but as she shook her head at his hesitation and pulled him in a tight hug, he found out.
"Welcome in Imladris, Legolas. It's good to hear you are well again. I trust your new home has been only good for you, dear."
Legolas sighed quietly and returned the embrace, shyly resting his hands on the maiden's arms. "Yes, my Lady. I feel much better here."
Arwen pulled a little away to study his face. With a bitter smile she traced an edge of a fresh scar on Legolas' forehead. She hugged him close one more time and pressed her lips briefly to one of his temples.
"Come, let us sit." She said. "It is such a beautiful night; the singing will begin soon, so let's eat and enjoy the music."
They all sat around the table, preoccupied with their dinner and talking once again. The evening grew late, the tea calmed Legolas down and allowed him to feel comfortable again. He kept peeking glances at Arwen, captured by her beauty. The Lords settled for the tea as well, having emptied one bottle of wine. The meat was slowly disappearing from the plates throughout the whole evening, but later they settled for fruits and cakes. Legolas felt like in heaven, sitting at the rich table and being pampered with all this delicious things he had only seen on the King's table as far.
As Arwen predicted, the eerie sound of Elven music came from the open window some time later. It was a beautiful melody, with delicate choir of maiden voices, unreal and floating, surrounding them like a fog would surround each blade of grass in the morning. Legolas turned his head to the balcony, from where the sounds seeped. He must have looked touched, for Glorfindel spoke at his expression.
"You look as if you heard something like this for the first time." The Lord said kindly.
"Yes, my Lord," Legolas admitted. "We do not do this… I mean, we don't sing in Mirkwood… like this. In choirs."
"How do you sing, then?" Elrond inquired.
"Alone," Legolas said. "There is usually one person who starts, few verses. Then someone else sings after, then the next one. Sometimes we sing together the repeatable parts, and sometimes we all hum the melody, when it's cold and we sit in groups or…" instantly he knew he said too much, so he fell silent.
"Or?" Elrond asked quietly.
"Or when it's too difficult to sing alone anymore."
Glorfindel cleared his throat delicately and settled for changing the subject. He gave Legolas a kind glance and cut the apple in slices, putting a few of them on Legolas' plate.
"We had hoped you would sing for us, little one. What do you think?" he asked kindly.
"Yes, please sing for us," Arwen asked in a dreamy voice.
"What would you like me to sing?" Legolas smiled; he would not deny them.
"Something about love" said Arwen eagerly.
Glorfindel smiled at her gently and shook his head, amused at typically maiden taste he teased her about earlier. Legolas put down his tea and began to sing.
His voice started out shyly, but grew in intensity as he sang a love tune he had learned in childhood. He never knew its meaning then, when he used to sing it in a grey dawn among the high trees of Mirkwood. It told about a prince from a far away land who gave up everything after falling in love with a maiden, cursed by an evil witch into a swan. He painted the black lake with his words, the tune delicate, fragile and so easy to break; he described the faint gleam of a single swan feather dropped on the wet grass with his voice. He sang with only the breeze and grasshoppers for accompaniment. The wind was playing with lace curtains. The song outside died for a moment, as if waiting until Legolas ends his tale.
Elrond just stared at the wall deeply moved, while Arwen's eyes became teary. Glorfindel closed his eyes and bowed his head, surrendering to the overwhelming spell of Legolas' voice.
When the last note died into silence, Legolas bowed his head as he usually did. Arwen wiped her tears away with an embroidered handkerchief and Glorfindel sighed while taking Legolas' hand in his. From Elrond there was no response.
"That was the most beautiful song I have heard in a long while," Glorfindel said.
"Where have you learned that?" Elrond said when he finally stirred.
"In Mirkwood, as a child. Titinne sang to me." he replied hesitantly.
"You are young," Glorfindel said in amazement. "That tale is so old that I thought only someone much older would know of it. You are a very talented elfling."
"You sing with great sadness," Elrond said. Legolas understood that was the only verdict he will get from his Master right now.
Much, much later Legolas was tottering on the chair, very sleepy. He kept catching himself of thinking about his warm bed only. As he slept in it once, he was sure it was the best bed not only in Imladris, but in whole Middle Earth. He curled into the chair as he felt his eyes grow heavy. The alluring music was so peaceful and airy. The kisses of the night breeze were on his brow. And he knew that in the presence of Arwen he is safe. He dozed off, unable to stay awake any longer.
He awoke suddenly, feeling a warm touch on his cheek. It was Lord Elrond's hand, soft and inviting, his thumb gently stroking the pale skin. Elrond was leaning to him, seated in his armchair, as the others watched him with smiles on their faces.
"It is after midnight, you must be getting tired," Elrond said.
Legolas nodded and subconsciously leaned into his touch. All day was so stressing and even this evening, wonderful as it was, had kept him on the edge of his seat. He just wanted to sleep. Gentle touch slowly lulled him to sleep, as nimble fingers brushed his temple, combed through his hair and stroked an exposed neck. It felt really… good.
Suddenly an internal alarm jerked Legolas awake as he realized that it is his Master who is touching him in this alluring way. Legolas straightened on the chair, eyes wide as saucers, violently rubbing his neck in the place when Elrond's fingers petted him. The hand was removed immediately, and Legolas slowly bent his head in shame, realizing that he reacted quite inappropriate to the kindness he was shown.
"I'm so sorry, Master," he whispered afraid of the possible offend. All his sleepy state evaporated.
Lord Elrond seemed disappointed.
"And I thought you have finally trusted me."
"I do trust you, Master," Legolas automatically replied before he could stop himself.
"I told you that lies hold no interest to me," Elrond said, sighing. "I just wanted to wake you delicately, for sleeping in a chair is not the healthiest position."
Elrond's voice was only concerned. Legolas glanced up uncertainly and said his sorry again, this time with his blue eyes.
"Surely it is time to go to sleep. Ada, Lord Glorfindel, I think I should go now," Arwen said, standing up. She came to Legolas who was again bowing to her.
"Here, take this for entertaining us with such a beautiful song," she told him as she pressed her handkerchief into his hand. Before he realized what she was doing, she kissed him on each cheek, bid everyone goodnight and then left the room. Legolas' astonishment made him stare after her with eyes widened in shock; he even forgot to thank properly, which unusual for him behavior made Elrond and Glorfindel laugh quietly.
"You too need to lay down, little one," Elrond said gently so as not to break the spell. "You are tired and it is time to turn in."
/*/
As Legolas was lying under miraculously warm and soft eiderdown, he was staring at the handkerchief. It was still wet from the tears Lady Arwen cried because of his song. He made her cry, and she was so kind that she kissed a slave! It was far too much as for Legolas understanding.
He kicked the eiderdown in frustration, feeling the well known lump in his throat. He felt a desperate battle with himself coming. All in here seemed desperate to make him believe everyone like him and want to help, counting on nothing back. Gentle touch, a real, comforting hug, the dinner, delicate words. From the very beginning, from the moment his Master's hands took off the collar, he has never been hit once. He was never once humiliated or beaten. He wasn't ordered to do any hard work, in fact. Then, when his medicament ended, he wasn't killed, even if owning this was a crime, as Moreth told him. Instead, he was healed. Through four long weeks and few days he was being pampered: seated in his Master's own armchair, covered in luxurious fabric, fed like a King's infant. The very room he was in: he was just given it. Lord Glorfindel messed in his head with that strange talk; but his Master told him more or less the same thing when he was abed and crying at the news he is free. Neremiel seemed to be equally incoherent.
Wait. Free?... No, this cannot be. I am kept close to the Master's chamber, he will soon come and demand service, maybe in a week, but maybe tomorrow. I cannot be free. Why are they going into so much trouble on my account then, why would they spend so much goods and money just for a slave? Legolas turned over in frustration.
He would be alright in a thin shirt, somewhere in the cellars, sleeping on some hay, kept attached to the wall by a chain so that he doesn't try to escape. He wouldn't anyway. His Master healed him, he was good to him, he was the best he could dream of: calm and reasonable. He would never flee from this Master, for he wasn't afraid he would put him through the dungeon again. Only because of this he would do everything just to please him and make him keep his slave. No Mirkwood anymore.
What they were saying couldn't be true. I am not free, I am just a slave, a worse kind, a bastard beget in the bushes, Legolas kept thinking desperately. I was made to serve betters. I was given fair hair and slender body for others to use it, that's simple and plain. I know the truth, he mused.
If so, why they want me so desperately to believe in what they are saying…? Why? What will they do, if I believe it? How will they use it against me…?
He was so confused that it hurt physically. Loneliness was more than he could handle, blocking his breath with a passive force of grief. There was not even one person he could really trust and turn to. Feeling so completely alone, he bit into the pillow and broke down in tears.
Even if they turn on me later, Legolas thought under the assault of his own tortured mind, they had done so much for me. I am overstepping my place. I am too bold. It's not my place to judge, to find answers, to avoid being punished. My part is to listen and to get what they are giving, my part is to do what they are saying. Whatever they do with me… I am ready to take it. I am a slave.
Legolas shuddered fiercely, a sob breaking free, a bit too loud than it should be. Legolas hid his head under the quilt, pressed it to his mouth and shaken with wave after wave of pain, cried himself to exhausted sleep.